#father Paul is not forgotten

[roguelov]

do you have any more plans for father paul fics? i am dying over here and need some desperate, yet dominant father paul smut

At the moment no my sweet anon but I haven’t forgotten about our father so maybe later on I might have more ideas for him 🥰

[nullen-void]

For a long time I wondered if the final TF2 comic would ever come out. For a longer time I wondered if I wanted it to. They built it up so much, hyped the Administrator's big plan so high, and then waited so long, could they possibly ever meet expectations?

I don't know if what they did was what they originally planned, or if there even was a plan, but I think they knocked it out of the park. It feels... right.

And it cemented the Administrator as one of the most terrifying villains in history. But before I discuss that, SPOILERS:

It was all pointless. None of it ever mattered.

The Gravel Wars, the fighting, the Australium, the deaths, the Classic Mercs, none of it mattered at all. Because Helen or whatever her name is just an addict getting her fix.

She kept a man alive for near enough two hundred years, trapped in the moment just before death by a thousand diseases, because she dedicated her life so thoroughly to ending him that when he finally croaked, she had nothing left. So she brought him back to suffer more. And then extended her OWN life so she could keep making him suffer.

And she doesn't even remember why. She was a child when Zepheniah Mann killed her parents, and she's something like a hundred and seventy years old now. It's been three normal lifetimes since then, and she's forgotten. But she never forgot the hate.

She sabotaged two infant's futures by raising them to be bafoons just to hurt their father. She orchestrated a forever war to spite a single man. She was prepared to keep this going until the heat death of the universe.

Do you know what would have happened if Pauling had lost her nerve and admitted they found a new stash of magic metal? With all three Mann brothers dead, she probably would have gone after Olivia. The last Mann standing, and a girl who at the time was only seven and had barely any connection to the Mann legacy at all, and probably didn't know her grandfather's name! And Helen would have gone after her and ruined her life just to make Zepheniah watch as yet another generation of Mann was ruined.

What a pointless, misspent life. What a waste of time. What an ending.

It makes what comes next all the greater. Scout and Soldier are dads with happy children, Spy still can't admit their relation but gets to be part of his grandkids' lives and he and Jeremy trust each other enough that Scout doesn't blink when he takes his mask off. Team Fortress is happy. They moved on. Found new lives.

Helen couldn't. She had all the time in the world and then some, and she just couldn't move on.

What a waste.

[plutoswritingplanet]

It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt. 2

a/n: re-uploaded cause tumblr wouldn't show it in the tags for some reason Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con, Arranged Marriage, Reader is an Atriedes, Horny Violence, and some angsty family relations (lmao)

Summary: The courting becomes more and more complicated, as both you and the Na-Baron discover something about each other.

Part.1, Part 3. Part 4.(finale)

- He's a beast.

Lady Jessica stops in her tracks, her hands sliding gently across the fabric of your nightgown. It's your Mother, that puts it out on the table next to your bed. But the person, who turns back towards you with an unreadable expression, is most definitely not her. You're talking to a Bene Gesserit sister now. A freezing chill runs up your spine, and you start picking at the skin around your fingernails, a nervous habit you've picked up a long time ago.

- Have you forgotten all that I have taught you? - she asks, turning to face you fully, in the dimly lit space of your bedroom

Subconsciously you retreat into yourself, body leaning further away from her, as if that distance might save you from whatever unpleasant revelation will most likely fall upon you. Lady Jessica takes a deep breath, her lips pulling back into an easy, soothing smile. In the past, you would look for expressions such as this, fish them out for comfort. Now, as you look upon your Mother's face, it all seems to be a trap made specifically for you.

- Men like him, beastly men, are the weakest ones - she explains, taking slow steps towards your hunched form - They need the power and the blood to feel worthy of existing, which makes them easy to manipulate. Keep them pliant under your hands like fresh dough. 

She sits beside you, your mattress dipping under her weight, and your eyes are immediately drawn to your Mother's elegant hands, folded neatly in her lap. You wish you could put your head there. Have her pull your running thoughts out with gentle caresses. A hairbrush lays abandoned on the vanity in front of you, and silently you contemplate, whether you'll ever have the opportunity to have your hair brushed by her. 

- You must find his weakness, what drives him to do what he does. And then control it.

- I don't want to control my husband - the words spill out of your lips, before you have the chance to stop them - I want to love him, to support him. To give him children he'll love, children I'll love. 

Tears fall in heavy waterfalls down your cheeks. You haven't had the luxury of a good cry since your betrothed had arrived, and it feels divine. Letting your body shake and shiver, wrecked by uninhibited sobs, as your Mother looks down upon you, torn between the two roles she must fulfill. 

The more you've thought about your situation, the more hopeless you felt. The Harkonnens will never let you see your family again, you're sure of it. You'll have to deal with all the horrors of Giedi Prime entirely on your own, with no support from your husband, no friends, no family. And your children, as they are sure to come, will be taken away from you. Thrown into the black and white, until there's no love left in them. 

The Emperror is a cruel man, you think. An execution would've been a kinder end. 

- Why did you have to make me a Daughter? - the way your voice breaks in desperation fills you with shame - Why couldn't you give Father another Son?

You know you've overstepped, as soon as the accusatory tone registers in your brain. It is far too late by then, and the hands, which just moments before you've fantasized about running through your hair, grip you tightly. Your Mother's face, a constant image of beauty, twists into something darker, something you don't recognize, and you gasp, as her dull fingernails dig into the skin of your wrist.

- Your Father has Paul - her voice is barely above a whisper, blue eyes stabbing you with the intensity of her gaze - I gave him a son, because he asked for a son. Because I loved him enough to give him one. And he can have him. He can fill him with lessons of male leadership, of short-sighted plans. You. You are my Daughter. You are mine, and I've trained you well enough to conquer this task.

A hopeless pit settles itself in the void of your stomach.

You've always known your destiny would be to marry well, to further House Atreides' legacy. And yet, somehow, there was a sliver of hope, treacherously worming itself into your brain. Your Father had Paul, the perfect heir. Surely, he could send him off for the greater good and leave you to your own devices. Let you find someone to care for you, someone you'd do anything for. The thought sits in the pit of your stomach, turning your insides in shame. Still, you can't shake the sinking feeling, that if the universe was kind, you would've been born a Son. 

Your Mother, or more likely, the Bene Gesserit, stands up, a cold chill filling the space where her body used to sit. She regards you once, a stern, unwavering gaze.

- Wear black tomorrow.

Perhaps, you'll die in your sleep tonight. Perhaps the universe will bring you this small mercy.

*** Perhaps you did die. 

Through the haze of dreams, you can see him. Bare, as the day he was born, body gleaming white in the darkness of your room.

You can't move, can't see his face, and when he approaches, every single one of your muscles tense. You shift under the covers, cold tendrills of fear engulfing you entirely. He comes closer, moves like a wild cat, stands at the foot of your bed. 

The need to run is overwhelming, but your body refuses to listen, as slowly, torturously slowly, he climbs on top of you, defined muscles moving under his skin in a way that reminds you of some cursed demon, rather than a man. His scent fills your nostrils, a mixture of something heady and metalic, and, like a little child scared of the dark, you try to hide your face under the covers. 

This demon version of your betrothed sits down, sculpted thighs squeezing around your sides, and with rising panic you realize, he's slowly choking the life out of you. A fitting end, a welcomed one. Perhaps it would be better to die right now, before you discover what atrocities he plans to commit on your body and mind, after you're wedded. 

Then, his hand reaches behind his back, full lips pull upwards, exposing blackened out teeth. You barely register the glint of his sword, not until he holds it high up, above his hand. You're not allowed a moment to wallow in your confusion, as your future husband brings the weapon down, sinking it with brutal force into your beating heart.

You awake screaming.

***

In the morning, you pull a black tunic over your head, remnants of your dream clinging to you like an unwanted shadow. 

Every move of the silky fabric against your skin feels like a small defeat, and with your head hung low, you make your way towards the dining hall. Truly, you're not hungry, stomach turning and twisting, a steady presence of nerves keeping your body on edge. Your attendance is required however, such are customs, and it is entirely too eaarly for another lecture about your behaviour. 

As you enter the room, your mask of tired indifference slips just for a second, a mixture of fear and anger flickering in, and out of existence.

 There, opposite of your Father you can see him. Your future husband, the love of your miserable, ending life. Slow horror washes over you, as you suddenly realize that this demonic, otherwordly version of him, which visited you in your nightmares is just how he looks. He greets you with a polite inclination of his smooth head, and you consider not showing any outward sign of repulsion, a small victory on your part. Your Mother doesn't think so, but you dodge her sharp eyes in favor of greeting your brother.

It doesn't go unnoticed, the way Feyd Rautha's eyes drink in greedily the sight of you embracing Paul. His gaze lingers on your smile, and he raises his cup to his lips, scrunching his nose ever so slightly at the unfamiliar drink he's been offered. You want to ask, if they have coffee on Giedi Prime, but the question is forcefully swallowed down. You will not talk to this man. He will never know anything more than contempt from you. Curse your Mother's words, you'll fight this battle every day, on your own, if you have to. 

- My Daughter will show you around the training barracks after breakfast - Duke Leto announces, and you freeze with a cup of coffee half-way to your lips.

- Will I? - you ask, trying to control the edge in your voice. 

- Na-Baron has made inquires about a place to train - your Father explains, giving you a meaningful side eye - You'll accompany him. 

The coffee tastes like rot in your mouth, and you place your cup down with a note of finality. You won't look at him, you don't have to. That knowing smirk could be felt through the very particles flowing in the air, every single one laughing at your predicament. 

Despite your best efforts, the breakfast comes to an end, your family slowly rising to attend to their duties. Your Father, ever the cordial man, bids his farewells to the unwelcomed guest. Your Mother does the same, albeit sounding more honest. Paul lingers as long as Lady Jessica allows him, until he is forced to retreat by a slender hand tugging mercilessly on his elbow. A gesture both of you know intimately from your childhoods. 

Before you know it, you're left alone with the pale imitation of a man. He arises slowly from his seat, smoothly making his way towards you, each of his footsteps echoing in the dining room. 

- Shall we, my Lady? 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his offered hand, like a white spider living just outside of your vision. With a shudder, you slip out of your chair, trying very hard not to touch him, and failing immediately, when his broad chest nearly pushes you back into your seat. 

He smells nice, your brain betrays you, the scent bringing back images from your night terror, causing an involuntary shiver to run up your spine. With averted gaze, you turn to leave, ignoring his still extended hand. He follows you like a shadow, catching up to you in no time, as you slide through the corridors of the Palace. It's uncomfortable, to say the least, walking with him behind your back. His eyes bear into you, a prickly feeling at the base of your neck making you roll your shoulders.

It follows you, as he follows, right to the very destination. All in blessed silence, a small miracle to save this already dreadful morning.

The men, launging about at the training barracks freeze in their spots, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest, when Duncan Idaho catches your eyes. His skin has a beautiful, warm tone, highlighted by the morning sun flowing into the room through the windows. You nod, he nods back, an unspoken understanding blooming between the two of you. There could be no suspicion of any closer bond, lest this engagement would be called off. A result, perhaps favorable to you personally, but your family would never live down the shame. And you would never jeopardize Paul's future, no matter how hollow yours looked.

- You have a warrior's body - your betrothed comments, as he inspects the blades laid out on a small table - Do you train here as well?

Small talk, you could do small talk. With a sigh, you tear your gaze away from Duncan, and turn to the Harkonnen, forcing something resembling a polite smile to bloom onto your features. 

- Yes, I do - you answer curtly, eyes falling onto elegant, white fingers, sliding over a shiny metal blade. 

- It is not a common practice here, is it? - he looks at you, eyes gliding over your stature - Women being trained to fight?

Suddenly very much aware of your body, you cross your arms on your chest, hugging yourself tightly. You don't miss the way his gaze seems to linger on the low neckline of your tunic, and with bitterness on your tongue you wonder, has this man ever felt ashamed. 

- Not common, but it does happen - your voice betrays your emotions, a sharp edge settling over your tone, causing the man to arch an eyebrow.

Finally, he settles onto a chosen blade, bringing it up to the light and with laser focus observing the way particles dance on the steel surface. Then, he looks back at you, catching you in the act of observing the prominent, lean muscles on his neck. You ignore the knowing smirk and will your blushing cheeks to suddenly become devoid of color.

They don't, of course, and you scurry to the side of the table, to fiddle with the rest of the weaponry. Your favorite training blade is there, and instinctually, your hand reaches for it. 

- Train with me.

The request catches you off guard, and you shoot him a questioning look, one he deflects with a nonchalant shrug. 

Your muscles flinch, as you drag your hand back from the blade. 

- It would hardly be appropriate - you counter, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your tunic.

To that, he tilts his head, light eyes studying you for a longer moment, until you truly feel uncomfortable under such scrutiny. 

- And suddenly you're worried about what the court says? - he cuts you off, before you have the chance to ask, just what exactly does he mean by that - Perhaps you're too soft to fight me.

- I know what you're doing - you point an accusatory finger at his chest, and the man smiles, blackened teeth peaking between his full lips.

- And what am I doing? - it's hard to ignore the teasing timbre in his voice, and you swallow thickly.

- You're trying to get under my skin.

Shivering under the expected cruel glint in his eye, as another, most likely filthy innuendo purses his lips, you turn to him fully, a serious expression on your features.

- I've seen you fight, Na-Baron - his jaw tightens at the sound of your voice curling around his title - I know you're a force to be reckoned with, I'm not scared to admit that.

He straightens, regards you with furrowed brows for a longer second, until, yet again you start to fidget under his gaze.

- Perhaps then, you're scared you'll hurt me - the mere idea is so preposterous, your head snaps in his direction - If I had known, you liked me that much...

- That is entirely not true, and you know it - you deflect again, although annoyance begins to paint your voice.

Then, his hand shoots out, gripping your arm and pulling you closer. Air seems to thicken around you, as you look up at him, with surprise quickly morphing into outrage. His breath mingles with yours, and you can't seem to look away from his eyes, pupils nearly drowned in the overwhelming blue of his irises.

- Stop hiding, my viper. Fight me.

The command, spoken in a harsh whisper just shy of your lips, turns your insides into molasses. 

His taller form leans down to tower over yours, an intense expression settling over his sharp features. Close to excitement, much too close to desire, even closer to a murderous curiosity. Your throat feels entirely too dry, and before you can stop yourself, you swallow thickly, tongue darting out to lick your lips. His eyes snap almost immediately downwards, and your heart stops beating. You can't see anymore blue in his irises, only black. Darkness covers his eyes reflecting his thoughts, and you feel like you have to flee right now, before something terrible happens to you. 

So you do just that. Ripping yourself away from his closeness, you return to the table, hand finding your chosen blade without really looking. 

Another flash of black teeth, as the Na-Baron realizes what you're doing, and the both of you enable the shields surrounding your bodies. 

The gathered soldiers watch on, as you march towards the center of the room, determination filling every step to the brim. Duncan gives you a look, which you choose to ignore. You can't think about him now, not when you have your honor to defend against this Harkonnen monster of a man. 

Feyd Rautha rolls his shoulders, discards the thin fabric of his dress shirt, and once again you are stricken with his almost god-like physique. The blade looks like an extension of his hand, as he weighs it and slashes the air in front of him. Then, he fixes you with a challenging expression, as if he expects you to do the same, to try and best him at some shameless display.

You decide to keep your clothes on, blade held high, ready to strike. 

He jumps from one leg to another, and immediately an orchestra of alarm bells rings out in your brain. Should a man really be this excited at the prospect of fighting his future wife? Should you be this excited? Questions without answers, and before any of you make a move, another one absent-midedly floats to the surface. Just how much can you hurt each other, before the wedding is concluded? How much you'll inevitably hurt each other after?

The darkness he has brought on the ship with him must be contagious, because despite your better judgement, you smile. A sharp smirk, that makes your eyes look less like a human and more like a wild animal. And he drinks it all in, as he begins to circle you.

You'd never show him your back, never again. He's a tried and true predator, the only instinct he has, is a killer one. A fact you quickly get aquatinted with, as he unleashes a series of lightning fast strikes your way. 

Immediately you realize, that small show of cruelty he organized at your grandfather's theatre was nothing, compared to what he could truly do. And still, you suspect he's holding back, as you barely dodge a nasty stab, right under your ribs. Another one is blocked against your sheild, and before you have a chance to collect yourself, third one sends you back a couple of steps. 

He doesn't let you get away, with confident steps pushing you further and further out of the center of the training floor.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Duncan Idaho stand up from his place. Thinking back to your last training session, you shudder bitterly. "Never fight in anger" is easy to say, when you're not forced to marry, bed and sunsequently give children to the man you're fighting. 

Panting and sweating, you give Feyd Rautha your all, twirling in place, sliding on your feet. A different kind of choreography, which seems to work surprisingly well, with his almost animalistic force. Gurney taught you how to be powerful, how to land strikes which were as effective, as they were cunning. Duncan, on the other hand, taught you how to dance. So that's what you do.

Finally, you manage to grab at his free hand, locking your feet between his and bringing him closer to your blade. It stops just short of his artery, blocked by his dagger, the clash of metal reverberating through the halls. 

The smirk he gives you is beyond nasty, and forcefully, you push away from him, as if the very idea of skin to skin contact repulsed you. And it does, it truly does, especially now that adrenaline mixed with frustration boils in your head. 

- Again - you snarl his way, assuming your fighting stance.

- As my Lady commands - his voice has a natural growl to it, made even more prominent by the exertion of the fight, and he twists his body into a perversion of a curtsy.

This time you're the one to attack first, ignoring your menthor's words and relying on pure rage to guide your steps. A stab to his thigh, which he deflects with seemingly childish ease. Your tunic slips through his fingers, as you slide under his arm. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his blade, when he hides it into his belt. Confusion hits you suddenly. Was he giving up, why was he hiding his weapon? None of the questions get answered, as a foot curls itself around your ankle.

Your balance leaves you with a gasp of surprise, and soon, your back is on the floor, Feyd Rautha following closely behind. Your heated gaze meets his, as one hand wrenches the blade from your grasp and pins both your arms above your head. The other one supports his weight, as he hovers above you, light bleeding behind him in an unfitting image of a halo. 

Your chest heaves, sweat rolling down your collarbones, and the Harkonnen doesn't even try to hide the way his gaze follows a stray drop of salt, as it disappears between your breasts. 

- You fought well - he complements in a hushed tone, and you writhe desperately under his body.

The night terror rears its ugly head again, as you feel his tighs press onto your sides, almost as if he wants to shape your flesh into the imprint of his body.

- I think I prefer you like this - he whispers, face coming closer to the exposed column of your neck - You belong under me. 

That's what does it. Your face twists into an expression of equal parts disgust, and fury. You won't give him this victory, you'd rather die. Legs tangle themselves around his calves, and you use all your strength fueled by the burning need to fucking hurt him. 

The world spins, two bodies rolling on the floor, and suddenly you're on top of him, legs biting into his hip bones. While one hand supports your weight on his naked shoulder, the other finds the dagger hidden in his belt. The surprised gasp, which leaves his lips feels like music to your ears, and you don't even try to fight the awful smirk splitting your mouth.

The shield on his neck glows an angry red, as you press the tip of the blade down, right under his bobbing Adam's apple. He swallows, for just a second letting you see the mask of self confidence slip. He has quite long eyelashes, you notice, as his eyelids flutter, a low hum reverbating through his chest. Eyes that are neither blue nor completely black drink in the sight of you. The halo of your hair, the snarl on your lips, the curve of your waist, where one of his hands settle. 

Missing all of this, too enraptured by your own fury, you push the blade further down until it pricks his alabaster skin. He hisses through his blackened teeth and you want more, you want him to scream. A thin streak of red begins to flow down his neck, and God help you, it looks like art. 

His grip on your waist tightens, all five fingers digging into your flesh through the thin tunic. Feyd Rautha bares his teeth at you in a cruel smile, one that makes you question whether you're the one in control.

And then his hips roll upwards. 

A barely noticable movement, easily mistaken for a spasm of the muscles, but you know better. You can read it all from his expression, his pupils blown wide, the quickened breaths of air slipping past his lips. From the quickly hardening length pressing against your inner thigh. 

Your stomach flutters with a well known feeling, and that terrifies you more than any pain-motivated erection ever could. Because he sees it, he sees the beginning flames of desire taking root in your center, and the realization looks like ecstasy on his face. Humiliation washes through you, fills you completely. There is no awkward blush on your face, no. All you feel is white, freezing terror, as all your defences seem to crumble all at once.

Like a scared animal, you're off of him in a split-second, and he doesn't chase you, as you all but run from the training barracks. Doesn't have to, he already has everything he needs. 

[msfantasy-magic]

Return Home Visit

Paul Lahote x Cullen!Reader

Summary: Rosalie and Emmets daughter visits during college break.

“I said get out of my house dog!” Rosalie spits venomously to Paul who stands awkwardly in the door way. “I don’t care if she’s your imprint, she’s not going to be with you! Over my dead body!”

“You can’t keep her from me forever.” Paul retorts edging in closer. “She deserve to know she’s my imprint, we’ll be together eventually whether you like it or not.” Rosalie pulls her fist back which Emmet lunges and grabs her arm before any damage is inflicted.

“Don’t, she’s almost here.” Emmet whispers. Everyone in the Cullen household listens to the echoing foot steps walking up the drive way.

“Leave before-“ Your voice cuts off Rosalie’s threat.

“Oh my god Paul?! Is that you? What are you doing here?” You squeaked excitedly, placing your bags down only to swing your arms around Paul’s neck pulling him into a tight hug. Leaning away, Paul looks down to your face, looking into your beaming eyes. God his heart yearns for your affection. He just wanted to look into your eyes forever, and hold you just like you are forever. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.” But before Paul could utter another word, Rosalie interrupts.

“Uh - hello? Aren’t you going to greet your own mother first?” Rosalie snaps making you quickly withdrawal from Paul’s embrace, the warmth of embarrassment creeps along your cheeks.

You quickly pull your mother into a tight hug. “I missed you Ma.” Your sweet words of proclamation melt Rosalie’s soul into a puddle. Your presence always managed to soothe her nerves.

“My turn babygirl, come give your old man a hug.” Your hulking father doesn’t give you a chance to pull away. He just wraps his large arms around you and Rosalie. “Both my girls are here with me. The world feels right again.” His corny words only make you giggle.

“Come now, we have your favourite take away ready on speed dial.” Rosalie hoaxes making you giddy with excitement.

“Thank ma, I’m starving! What do you feel like Paul? They have an awesome burger that has your name all over it.” Paul sheepishly enters the house hesitant under Rosalie’s murderous gaze.

“Sweetness… I thought it would just be a family evening…” You look to your dad to sooth the vein popping out of your mothers forehead, but your father only folds to your mother. Typical.

“She’s right sweetheart, we just want to spend the night with our daughter, we haven’t seen you in so long. I’m sure you understand Paul.” He says amicably, but the strong push of Emmets hands are anything but as Paul goes tumbling out the door and thudding shut on your long time crush which only serves to anger you further with the rush of humiliation.

“What is up with you guys?! What’s your problem with Paul anyway?” Your cheeks begin flaring in humiliation at your parents not so subtle dislike. “Ever since I met Paul you’ve acted so hostile and unwelcoming towards him. He’s never even done anything to deserve your wrath.”

“He’s a turns into a dog! They’re slave to their emotions, what happens if he gets upset with you one day and you come out more disfigured than Emily?” The horror of your parents words and actions light your head on fire.

“Uncle Jasper almost wrote the end date on my gravestone once, or have you forgotten?” You spit angerily, Rosalie doesn’t flinch.

“I have never forgotten, it’s why we are so cautious.”

“Your caution is suffocating me! I cannot live a long a fulfilling life if you guys are protecting me at every moment. Besides it’s not life Paul and I are serious or anything.” Now Emmet twitches at your statement.

“What does that mean?” Your Pa’s jaw clenches at your insinuation.

“It doesn’t mean anything Pops, it just means you and Ma are so over protective that we haven’t gotten more serious.” Your voice waivers.

Too late the words have settled outside of your mouth and Emmet looks ready to commit murder.

“That filthy beast! I’ll kill him!” Emmet announces, trudging to the door with great anger and throwing open the glass door.

It took all members of the Cullen family to hold Emmet back from a rampage. The boys had no choice but to call in Bella for her new born strength to hold back the over protective papa bear.

But Rosalie stared at her daughter, ignoring her husband and his antics whilst Y/n yelled to calm down . It only felt like yesterday when Emmet and her picked up their new born adoptive daughter, enamoured with her tiny hands and squishy rounded cheeks. Now a grown woman yelling at her dad to back off her unlabelled lover.

Rosalie yearned to turn back time to relive the glory days of having a baby, but just like human life, time is flashy by too quickly and she just wasn’t ready to let her baby go.

But she had to, this was her baby’s rite of passage.

Y/n, is Rosalie’s and Emmets grown-up daughter, and it’s time Rosalie finally accepts it.

[l0stglitch]

Platonic yandere lost boys

Notes- I’ve had this idea for an au in my head for a while now after reading the lost boys daughter au by @bella-goths-wife. I don’t usually post so sorry if the quality isn’t the best (I’m also from the UK so I might get some slang mixed up 😭).

Warnings- Light yandere behaviour (Reader is unaware) | Non violent kidnapping

• You moved to Santa Carla when you were young- around 6 or 7.

• After a fatal illness stole your father’s life- you, your mum and your two half siblings packed your bags and left for the coastal town.

• Unlike your siblings, you seemed to instantly fall in love with Santa Carla. Your little eyes wide as you took in the beauty of the vast beaches with their towering palm trees.

• To say you settled in quick would be an understatement.

• It was only a month or two after moving that you first met them.

• Your siblings, much to their dismay, had been tasked with watching over you for the night.

• The moment your mother had left you to do her ‘adult chores’ (no one had bothered to tell you what she was actually doing) the two of them were quick to do their own thing.

• Kelly, being 16, left to go and chat up a couple of guys with her friends.

• Sean stuck with you a little longer than his sister had, however upon seeing a group of kids from school, the 14 year old mumbled some half-hearted excuse and told you to stay by the carousel before promptly ditching you.

• So that left you, a defenceless child, all alone.

• You weren’t particularly bothered, after all, this wasn’t the first time they had left you by yourself.

• You found it interesting to watch all the different people go by.

• Santa Carla was a lot more diverse in terms of population compared to your previous home.

• There, you had lived a pretty sheltered life. Only exposed to a small slice of the world. Everyone there was like you. Or at least, like your family.

• Here though, everyone was different.

• You thought it was amazing.

• Dwayne noticed you first. An alarmingly young child sat by the carousel all by yourself. He didn’t usually take much notice of the people around him, but seeing you alone had awakened some long forgotten feeling from within.

• He wasn’t sure if that uncomfortable squirming in his stomach was some strange vampiric instinct Max had failed to tell them about, or if there was still some humanity left in his unbeating heart.

• Either way, it put him on edge.

• The others were quick to notice Dwayne’s change in demeanour. Particularly David- the self appointed leader of the pack.

• Every now and again the brunette’s gaze would drift over to the carousel, land on you, and then flitter around in search for someone who may be looking after you.

• Needless to say, he couldn’t find anyone.

• After around an hour David grew tired of his partner’s divided attention, and suggested they just ask you where your parents were.

• You’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little intimidated by the four men who for some reason had decided to surround you.

• Dwayne crouched down, so that he was at your level, and regarded you thoughtfully. He didn’t smile, but his expression wasn’t exactly threatening either.

• He asked where your parents were, and upon finding out you had no idea, offered to stay with you until someone came looking for you.

• David left, refusing to be seen with a child, and dragged a conflicted Marco with him.

• Much to Dwayne’s surprise, Paul stayed, although it was obvious he was too high to understand what was actually going on.

• For the rest of the night, you stuck by Dwayne’s side as he guided you through the busy crowds of the boardwalk.

• Eventually the three of you stopped at a stall selling handmade jewellery.

• You couldn’t help but stare at one of the necklaces laid out on display.

• To your young brain, it was beautiful.

• The necklace was made of leather, with beads and feathers hanging from a knot at the end.

• Dwayne noticed the way you fixated on the jewellery.

• “Do you like the necklace?”

• You nodded, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy. You knew your mama hated jewellery like that. If she were here, she’d scoff and call it ‘tacky’.

• Dwayne didn’t reply. Instead, he turned his attention to the woman running the stall.

• He waited until she had turned away, before snatching the necklace and grabbing your hand.

• You had to jog to keep up with his giant steps.

• Once you were a fair distance from the woman, Dwayne bent to your level and carefully fixed the necklace round your neck.

• It was ridiculously long for you, but you didn’t care.

• “You shouldn’t steal.” You said, looking up at him with an innocent frown.

• Behind you, Paul cracked up laughing, making you flinch at the sudden loud noise. A large hand came down to rest on your little shoulder as Paul crouched next to you.

• He looked between you and Dwayne with a grin, “Hear that Dwayne? Little missy here’s telling you off.”

• Dwayne chuckled slightly at Paul’s comment, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground, as if trying to compose himself.

• When he finally met your eyes, he sent you a gentle smile.

• “Stealing’s only bad if you get caught. If nobody knows you did it then it doesn’t count.” You blinked, not entirely understanding his logic but trusting him nonetheless.

• “Yeah- no point in paying for shit when you can just steal it,” Paul chimed in, patting your head as he stood up.

• Dwayne sent his lover a stern look at his vulgar language but didn’t say anything.

• The three of you continued wandering around for some time after that. You weren’t sure how long it had been since your siblings had abandoned you, but it felt like hours. Your feet had become sore from walking so much, and you were struggling to keep up with Paul and Dwayne’s pace.

• Thankfully, you eventually ran into Sean, who seemed slightly disturbed by the two men you were accompanied by.

• You were surprised by his mistrust towards them: after-all, they had been very kind to you. A small smile graced your face as you remembered the necklace that hung limply from your neck.

• Well, you didn’t care what Sean thought of them. They were nice to you. Nicer than your real family.

• After that incident, you began noticing Dwayne and his other friends more whenever you visited the boardwalk at night.

• Sometimes you’d run away from Sean and Kelly, preferring the attention you got from Dwayne and Marko.

• You were introduced to Marko not long after meeting Dwayne and Paul.

• He had greeted you with a lot more energy than the other two, surprisingly happy to meet you.

• You liked Marko a lot. He always seemed excited to see you, and never grew tired of playing games like hide and seek.

• David, on the other hand, you weren’t so sure on.

• He never spoke directly to you, in fact, you weren’t sure he ever looked directly at you either.

• One night you had asked Dwayne why David didn’t like you. He simply gave you a sad smile and said, “He will one day, Y/n, just give him time.”

• Unbeknownst to you, David did like you.

• He liked the way you giggled at Paul’s jokes. The way you squealed with joy when you caught up to Marko in a game of tag. The way you stared up at Dwayne with absolute adoration every time he spoke.

• It pissed him off how much he liked having you around.

• After all, you weren’t their kid. You already had a family. A neglectful one at that- but a family all the same.

• You weren’t theirs.

• You should be, David thought, watching your face light up as Paul somehow managed to win you a giant bear at a carnival game. You fit in with the pack perfectly. He had never understood Max’s desire to start a family until you had shown up. Whilst at first David couldn’t stand the thought of being seen with such a young child, he now felt a strange, sick sort pride when people saw you with them.

• Unfortunately, he wasn’t the best at showing it.

• But for now, that didn’t matter. You had been living in Santa Carla for around 6 months, and most nights were spent with at least one of the boys.

• You never questioned why they were so eager to see you all the time, or why you only ever saw them when the sun was down and the moon was out.

• To your naive, 6 year old brain, those details were irrelevant.

• Your big sister Kelly, however, thought otherwise.

• She had brought up your strange company over dinner one evening. As per usual, your mother was out, so she had left her eldest daughter in charge food, which unsurprisingly meant that the three of you had ended up eating greasy pizza from a takeaway.

• “You need to stop running off with those creeps, Y/n,” she had told you sternly, taking a small bite out of the slice of pizza in her hand.

• Your gaze dropped down to your lap, and you anxiously began fiddling with your fingers. You hated being told off.

• “But they’re nice to me,” you looked back up and met her eyes timidly, “And they spend more time with me then you two,” you added, looking over at Sean, who kept his eyes firmly fixed on the food in front of him.

• Kelly scoffed at that. “I don’t care how much you like them. You’re 6! Mum’s gonna kill us if she finds out me and Sean left you by yourself!”

• You flinched at her harsh tone, tears beginning to gather in your eyes.

• Sean finally looked up from his food, immediately noticing your distress.

• Your head was bowed, so he couldn’t properly see your face, but a fat droplet falling onto your plate told him all he needed to know.

• “We just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said gently, leaning in slightly.

• Unfortunately, his words seemed to provide no comfort whatsoever, as you jumped down from you chair and ran out of the room.

• Sean scowled at Kelly.

• “That went well.” He snapped, shoving another slice of pizza into his mouth.

• She glared back at him, “I’m trying to make sure our sister doesn’t get kidnapped.”

• “…Half-sister.” Sean mumbled through the food in his mouth.

• “Yeah.. well she’s still our responsibility- mum’s too busy to help.” Kelly replied, unaware that you were hidden behind the door, listening in.

• You had no idea what a ‘half sister’ was, so hearing Sean’s comment made your throat tighten uncomfortably as you fought another fresh wave of tears. You didn’t understand why you were only ‘half’ a sister. Were you not good enough for him?

• Sean had always been nicer to you than Kelly, but suddenly you weren’t so sure either of them liked you that much.

• Not wanting to hear any more of their conversation, you ran upstairs to your room and buried yourself under the covers.

• You fell asleep quickly. Crying always seemed to make you tired.

• It wasn’t until at least a week later that you were able to see the boys again.

• Your siblings had made sure to keep you in sight every time you went to the boardwalk.

• Fortunately for you, there was a concert one night.

• The crowds made it easy for you to slip out of Sean’s hand and run away as far as possible.

• You weren’t even looking for Dwayne and his friends, really. You just wanted to get away from Sean and Kelly- their conversation about you still fresh in your mind.

• Despite this, you ended up running into David.

• He was leant up against some metal railing, a lit cigarette hanging leisurely from between his lips as he listened to whatever the woman beside him was talking about.

• You weren’t sure what to do. None of the others were around, and you didn’t want to be walking around the boardwalk alone, but you still weren’t entirely sure David actually liked you. Sure- he had never been outright rude to you, but there was something about the way you’d catch him staring at you that creeped you out.

• After significant hesitation, you walked over, your stomach twisting into knots as you caught his eye.

• He seemed slightly surprised to see you, but not necessarily unwelcoming.

• The blonde woman beside him took a step closer to you before squatting down and holding your hands in hers.

• “Are you lost sweetie?” She questioned, her head tilted slightly and her lips curving up into a gentle smile.

• Your eyes jumped from hers to David’s, unsure of what to say.

• He came closer and rested a hand on your small shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze. You blinked. This was new.

• “Alyssa, this is my daughter- Y/n.”

• You kept your expression neutral, but internally you were just as shocked as this ‘Alyssa’ woman was.

• “Oh! I didnt realise you..” She started, before trailing off, processing the new information.

• “Well, it’s not something I usually tell people right off the bat,” David replied, completely unfazed by the whole interaction.

• He glanced down at you, almost theatrically, before looking back up and meeting the blonde girl’s eye. “Her mum’s a total druggie, so it’s just us two now,” he continued, lowering his voice slightly with a crestfallen expression.

• Alyssa rubbed your knuckles pityingly before standing back up to her full height and looking at David. “I’m sorry- that’s terrible. Y/n is lucky to have you as a father.”

• David just smiled at that, before glancing down at you, “Y/n, Marko and Paul are hanging around the video store- why don’t you go and say hi. They’ve missed you.”

• You nodded eagerly, offering up a quick goodbye to the pair before running over to the video store, almost tripping over your own feet in your haste.

• You weren’t sure why David had introduced you as his daughter to that nice lady, but you weren’t completely opposed to the idea. David might be scary, you thought, but he would certainly make a pretty cool dad, with his spiky blonde hair and long black trench-coat.

• By the time you had reached the entrance to the store, you were completely out of breath, breathing in short, excited gasps as you walked in.

• For a moment, you were distracted by all the screens. You had never seen so many TV’s in one place, it was hard to know which one to look at.

• Suddenly, a hand came down to rest on your back, jolting you out of your thoughts.

• Turning around, you were surprised to find a man who seemed to be in his 40s or 50s (you weren’t particularly good with ages) smiling down at you.

• He wore a pair of pale rimmed glasses and his brown hair was nearly combed into a side part. The complete opposite of who you were looking for.

• Max knew exactly who you were. He had overheard the boys talking about you numerous times when they thought he was out of earshot, and additionally, he could feel it through their shared vampiric bond.

• He could feel their possessiveness every time you were with your biological family. That burning desire to protect.

• Max wasn’t at all surprised. Despite his boys’ apparent ignorance to the reason behind their strange situation, he knew exactly what was going on.

• You had unknowingly wormed your way into their pack, and they had become obsessed. Unintentionally of course, Max mused. David in particular wasn’t exactly the nurturing type. Despite that, there was little anyone could do to combat their instincts to protect the youngest member of the pack, especially with how vulnerable you were.

• “Hey kiddo, you in need of any help?”

• You blinked up at him, momentarily forgetting why you had ran into his store in the first place.

• “I um- I’m looking for my…” You trailed off, unsure of how to describe your relationship with Marko and Paul to the man.

• “Your parents?” He offered up gently, his eyebrows quirking a little.

• You shrugged timidly. Were they your parents? You weren’t sure at this point. You already had a mum, but she wasn’t around much anymore. What about your dad? You realised you couldn’t remember a whole lot about him.

• Dwayne and his friends seemed to have taken his place. Although you were starting to wonder whether they actually were his friends, or perhaps something else.

• They held hands a lot- particularly Marko and Paul. And when no one was around, sometimes you’d catch them exchanging tender kisses. It reminded you of how your mama and dad used to kiss. She’d often tell you how in love she was with your father. Maybe Dwayne was in love with David, Marko and Paul?

• The two latter individuals strode into view, as if summoned by Max’s question.

• Marko greeted you with an excited grin, “Hi pumpkin! Where’ve you been hiding all this time?” He questioned playfully, picking you up and spinning you around.

• You laughed, happy to see them. “I wasn’t hiding silly!”

• Paul gently hit Marko’s arm, “Stop hogging her man!” He huffed, prying you from his lover’s grasp.

• You wrapped your arms around Paul’s neck, causing him to chuckle slightly.

• “I’ve missed you baby. Where’ve you been?”

• Max, who was stood slightly off to the side now, didn’t fail to notice how keenly they wanted to know your whereabouts.

• For the past week or so, all he had felt through the pack bond was a painful longing for you. It was very sweet, but unfortunately quite distracting for a man who was trying to run a store.

• You smiled sadly at Paul, “Sean and Kelly didn’t want me seeing you guys anymore- they said you were creepy…” You trailed off, noticing how Paul’s expression had grown considerably darker.

• “Did they now?” You looked over at Marko, who had just spoken. He was staring at you intently, almost as if you were the one who had said those things.

• You looked down at the floor and nodded, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

• “You don’t agree with them do you?” Paul asked softly. You weren’t sure you had ever heard him sound so… dejected?

• You quickly shook your head in response, desperate to try and cheer them both up. It made you uneasy seeing Paul sad and Marko angry- they were both usually so cheerful around you.

• “Well, as long as you know that they’re wrong about us,” Marko said with a shrug, his lips forming a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Not that you noticed, only being a young child.

• “I know!” You assured him, smiling back.

• Paul and Marko shared a look, both of them feeling slightly threatened by the apparent worry of your siblings.

• Max cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him. “Perhaps it’s time you took her back with you.” It came out as more of an order rather than a request, but that wasn’t what bothered Paul and Marko.

• They were more confused about how their head vampire somehow knew exactly what was going on with you and what their plans were.

• “You uh- you know about..?” Paul gestured down to you, frowning at Max, who merely chuckled at the younger vampire’s confusion.

• “Trust me. I know what it’s like to crave a family, that’s only natural for… people like us,” he explained, amused by the bewildered looks that adorned both their faces.

• Max looked down at you briefly, making sure you weren’t paying attention to their conversation before adding, “Might I suggest you get her-” he paused, searching for the right phrase, “-settled in as quickly as possible. The sooner you remove her from that neglectful mother and her spawn, the sooner she’ll forget about them.”

• The harsh choice of words caught them off guard, but neither said anything.

• Marko couldn’t stop the grin from forming on his face, “That shouldn’t be a problem Max,” he replied, resting his hands on your shoulders and crouching slightly so he was eye to eye with you.

• You weren’t sure what had caused his mood to change so erratically, but you weren’t in a hurry to complain.

• “Me and Pauly wanna show you a very special place, but you have to be a good girl for us.”

• Behind him, Paul scoffed quietly at the nickname.

• “I’ll be good!”

• “You promise?” He asked seriously, holding out a pinky finger.

• “I promise.” You answered solemnly, linking your finger with his.

• He nodded, satisfied with your answer before standing to his full height and glancing back at Max, “We’ll see you around then I guess.”

• Max hummed in reply, and watched as the two of them led you out, Paul holding your small hand in his.

• You excitedly squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. “We gotta go find Dwayne and David now, Y/n,” he told you, carefully scanning the surrounding area.

• “I already saw David earlier!” You replied gleefully, trying to tug Paul over to where you had seen him before.

• Marko stopped you before you could lead them over. “David told us to meet back at the bikes,” he countered, mainly speaking to Paul rather than you.

• Paul nodded in agreement, “Yeah I remember now. We should probably head over there then.”

• You felt slightly dejected by the way they had both completely ignored your help, but that feeling melted away as the bikes came into view and you saw David and Dwayne hovering nearby, clearly deep in conversation.

• “Hey! David! Dwayne! Look who we just ran into!” Paul called over, grabbing both men’s attention.

• Dwayne snapped around the moment he heard his lover’s voice, his eyes immediately landing on you.

• “Dwayne!” You cried gleefully, slipping out of Paul’s grip and running over to hug the long haired brunette.

• He embraced you tightly, as if worried you were going to disappear at any moment.

• You were surprised by how firm the hug was, but thought little of it. You were back with your favourite person, and that was all that mattered.

• “I’ve missed you princess.” You smiled, happy to hear his deep voice again after a week of being stuck with your siblings.

• “Me too!” You replied, pulling back so you could look Dwayne in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to hug you more, but refrained from doing so- not wanting you to feel smothered.

• “Marko says that you’re all going to show me somewhere special!” You informed him matter of factly, unable to contain the excitement that was leaking into your words.

• Dwayne’s brows shot up in surprise. He knew exactly where this “somewhere special” was, but he was caught off guard by the suddenness of it all, and the fact that Marko of all people was the one to call the shots.

• His gaze flickered over to said person, shooting him a questioning look.

• David seemed equally confused, almost choking on his cigarette smoke. “Tonight? You knew we were going to wait longer.” His tone sounded slightly more threatening than intended, but he didn’t care. David hated feeling undermined- even if it was from one of the men he loved.

• Marko’s head cocked to the side as he casually met David’s irritated gaze, completely unfazed. “Change of plan I guess. It was Max’s idea, not mine.” He paused momentarily, his brows furrowing slightly, “And those other two kids are starting to become a problem.”

• Had you been a little older, you might’ve realised that the ‘other two kids’ they spoke about were your half siblings, but instead you remained completely oblivious. Unaware of the tension hanging in the air.

• “You told Max?”

• “He already knew,” Paul answered with an unbothered shrug, failing to understand Dwayne and David’s concerns.

• David nodded slowly, not entirely surprised that Max had caught on. “So… we’ll take the kid back to the cave and then sort out our little problem.”

• “The kid? She has a name David,” Dwayne muttered, shooting him a pointed look.

• “Fine. We’ll take Y/n back to the cave.” He hesitated before continuing, “I’m assuming you’ll want her to ride with you?”

• “Well, I was the one who found her first. And Paul and Marko aren’t exactly the safest drivers.” Dwayne shot back defensively.

• “What the fuck man? We’re great drivers!” Paul retorted, nudging Marko, who stumbled slightly at the action.

• The shorter man steadied himself on Paul’s shoulder before nodding passionately in agreement. “Yeah- some might say we’re the best in Santa Carla!”

• David scoffed, “That’s debatable.”

• You were still stood at Dwayne’s side, waiting patiently for the four of them to finish their grown-up conversation.

• You hadn’t been listening very closely, but it seemed like they had finally come to an agreement on something.

• Dwayne squeezed your shoulder, grabbing your attention. “You’re gonna ride with me now Y/n, so you gotta hold on real tight.”

• You felt an uncomfortable twisting sensation in your stomach at his warning. It was probably just the nervousness that came with riding a motorcycle for the first time, but something about the situation felt off.

• “I can’t. Mama doesn’t like motorcycles- she says they’re dangerous.”

• He sighed, “Look sweetheart, I know you think your mum knows best, and that she’s some amazing parent who would do anything for you, but the reality is she’s not.”

• You frowned. Dwayne’s words hurt a lot more than he had intended them too.

• “But she loves me..” You protested timidly, confused by the pitying look he was giving you.

• “Then why isn’t she here looking after you?”

• The question caught you off guard. He had a point. Where was your mum? You hadn’t seen her since yesterday, and even then she hadn’t even spoken directly to you.

• Dwayne took your silence as an answer, cupping your cheeks in his hands and making sure your full attention was on him.

• “She doesn’t matter anymore Y/n. We’re your family now, and we won’t let anything happen to you.”

• “You promise?”

• “I swear Y/n, I won’t ever let anyone or anything hurt you. You’re safe with us- ok?”

• You nodded silently, finding comfort in his words.

• Dwayne smiled reassuringly before picking you up by the waist and placing you onto the back of his motorcycle.

• You watched as the four of them all mounted their rides, before revving their engines and racing down the path.

• It wasn’t a particularly long trip- especially with how fast the boys rode. The whole journey you clung to Dwayne’s waist like your life depended on it, eyes tightly shut and head curled into his back.

• Eventually the five of you stopped near the edge of a cliff. Dwayne twisted round and set you on the ground before dismounting and checking to see if you were ok.

• You nodded wearily, unable to fight the way your eyelids kept fluttering shut.

• “She won’t be able to make it down those steps if she’s practically falling asleep,” David said taking a step closer, “I’ll have to carry her.”

• Dwayne’s head shot up. “I can take her.”

• “You’ve had Y/n for the whole ride- I’m sure you’ll survive the short walk to the cave without her,” David remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

• Dwayne glared at the blonde but stepped back to allow him to pick you up.

• You didn’t resist when David lifted you up, it was a relief to not have to worry about standing up, or keeping your eyes open. Your small arms wrapped around his neck and your head came down to rest on his shoulder.

• You were asleep before he even started walking.

• The walk down to the cave entrance was spent in complete silence. They spoke to each other telepathically through the pack bond, discussing what they were going to do about your previous family and how they were going to get you settled into the pack.

• It wasn’t until they reached the cave entrance that anyone spoke.

• “So she’s sleeping in the room we prepared?” Paul asked from behind David.

• “Yeah that’s right.”

• You stirred at the sound of a voice, lazily lifting your head slightly to look at Paul and Marko behind you.

• They were oblivious to your sleepy gaze watching them from David’s shoulder as he carried you through the dimly lit cave.

• Not before long they eventually reached the ‘room’ that had been prepared for you.

• Being in a collapsed hotel, it was an unusual shape, with a ceiling that slanted down towards the far end before abruptly being cut off by the jagged roof of the cave. It wasn’t completely ready yet, so the only furniture was a queen sized bed and an unusually large bean bag in the corner.

• David carefully settled you down onto the bed, and you blinked up at him.

• “This is your room now baby. We’ll decorate it how you like later on, but right now you’ve got everything you need.” Dwayne said softly, crouching down to the side of the bed.

• “Where’s your bed?” You asked through a yawn.

• He smiled, “Not too far.”

• Paul took a step closer. “We’ll be down the hallway, Y/n.”

• Your eyes flickered back over to Dwayne, “Why can’t you just stay here? I don’t like the dark.”

• He gently brushed some of your hair out of your face, “We can stay if you want.”

• You nodded with a smile, and shuffled further into the middle to let him climb in next to you. Dwayne wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer protectively.

• The bed dipped to your left, and you turned over to see who it was.

• You were surprised to see that it was David rather than Marko or Paul, but you didn’t say anything. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep your eyes open, especially with the inviting darkness of your new room. As you were drifting off to sleep, you felt a hand gently rubbing your arm, and the soft murmur of David’s voice.

• “She’s finally ours now.”

Final notes- I do plan on writing more for this au. This was more of an introduction/explanation of how reader ended up being a part of the pack, and it wasn’t originally supposed to be written as an actual fic but I kind of got carried away.

I have some vague ideas for where I wanna take this but nothing is really set in stone at the moment. One thing I do know however is that it will definitely get darker as the reader gets older (sorry if you were hoping for smth fluffy). Updates might be slow so I apologise in advance 🙏

[ivystoryweaver]

Your Father's Rival!Leto Atreides x F!virgin!reader

NSFW MDNI. Reader is of age, obviously! AU in the sense that there is no mention of Lady Jessica or Paul Atreides. Not beta'd.

content: seduction, nipple play, allusions to oral - f. rec., allusions to fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, duplicitous behavior, but everything is consensual

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Your father's rival!Leto Atreides

...who invites your family to Caladan for "peace talks", but secretly hatches his plan

Rival!Leto, who welcomes your begrudging father, throwing a magnificent ball in your family's honor

whose gaze lingers on you - your father's only heir, nearly twenty years younger than Leto himself...

and conveniently unmarried.

Rival!Leto, who requests the honor of a first dance with you. His dark eyes devour yours as his gloved hands pull you a little closer than is formal.

whose stern countenance dissolves when eyes crinkle as he grants you a brilliant smile

whose smooth, tenor voice tickles your ear as he compliments your dancing, subtly hinting at how your body moves in perfect time with his

whose gaze lingers on your lips before dipping down to the low scooped neck of your gown

Rival!Leto, who lets everyone know to treat your family like royalty - to be sure you don't miss a single dance, so that you will eventually need to step outside for some air...

who conveniently stumbles upon you under the stars, in the lush gardens of Castle Caladan and manages to remark how you are more beautiful, if possible, bathed in moonglow

Rival!Leto, who notices your breath hitch when he nears, who asks permission to escort you on a tour of the garden, granting him the opportunity to take you by the arm.

who finds you delightful, really: intelligent - well-read and opinionated. Sparkling conversation distracts him, for a brief while, from his primary goal.

Rival!Leto, who plans to seduce you, and breed you.

You're young and beautiful, and a virgin - the cherished prize of his one and only rival.

Rival!Leto, who will snatch his enemy’s most precious possession from his grasp - to steal your youth, your body and above all, your love.

Not to harm you. In fact, he's already growing quite fond of you.

Rival!Leto, who bids you goodnight, as an upstanding Duke would do, who keeps your honor in tact, while his plan begins to unfold.

who notices you stealing glances across the breakfast table, smiling to himself at the impression he's clearly already made.

who finds you again in the gardens later that evening - who walks and talks with you, luring you into a comforting trust...but doesn't realize he is being lured as well.

Rival!Leto, who carries on for days, so innocently, that he's almost forgotten the duplicity of his original plan...

who finds himself meaning it when he folds you into his arms and kisses you breathless underneath the stars, his body responding with fervor as you wind your fingers through his thick curls and tug him closer to you.

who lures you the next night, and the next, until your walks in the garden turn into the collision of your mouths, the tangle of tongues, the sharing of breath, kissing and panting and touching, bolder each evening.

unlacing the front of your dress while kissing you deeply before trailing his lips down your throat, fingers brushing your collarbone.

stepping over the line of propriety, cupping your breast in his palm, stoking a fire of lust inside you. His lips caress the curve of your mound as hot breath fans across your stiff peaks.

Your father's rival, who takes your nipple into his mouth and gently sucks, pulling a breathy moan from your throat...

who greedily sucks and fondles away your innocence, his cock stirring and twitching at the sounds of your evident desire.

Rival!Leto, who has you half naked in the garden - a scandal just waiting to be uncovered - but the sound of his name on your lips won't allow him to slow, or stop.

who tells you that he's never seen anything more beautiful in all the known universe, and asks you to come to his bed tonight.

Your father's rival, who assures you his staff is discreet, and your secret is safe...

who thrills as you enter his bedchamber in the dark of night, very obviously bathed and perfumed to please him

who unleashes his fervent desire now that you are alone, unlacing your gown - his strong fingers laying claim to your soft flesh as his hungry mouth seeks out yours.

Your father's rival, who draws previously unknown desires from the core of you, making you bloom with raw want and drip with lust, soaking his beard

whose lips bring you to heaven itself as he sucks and fingers away your innocence, coaxing you into womanhood with delicious gasps and moans and sweet little begs that make him hard and ready to take your body completely

who slips inside the wet core of you, hissing as you snugly fit and grip his cock, whimpers and sighs of how full you feel tickling his ear.

His name on your lips as he starts to move - as the sting of intrusion eases into a fullness and completeness unlike anything you could have imagined.

Your father's treasure, naked and panting and scandalously writhing beneath his bitter rival, filled with his thick length, giving your maidenhood away to the enemy - to a man who has promised you nothing

Rival!Leto who presses his strong hand to your abdomen, murmuring your name. "Let me fill you up, dove. You can have a piece of me I've given no woman before this night."

"Yes, Leto," you repeat over and over. "Fill me...I'm yours."

Your father's rival, who intends to fill your belly with his heir, and now realizes, as your thighs fall apart - with each deep thrust - how quickly and how hard he comes inside you. How he fell apart so easily in the soft heat of your body. How he relishes this task he’s taken upon himself, almost feeling as if he is corrupting you.

who holds you close to his chest, like he owns you, your bodies still joined, kissing you possessively

Who can't seem to usher you back to your rooms, even to keep your scandalous secret. Who gently wipes you clean and folds you against his naked, sated body, assuring you to give into your exhaustion and rest - feeling a secret thrill that he’s winning your trust, as you sleep soundly

Who wakes to your beautiful face in dawn's light, stares into your eyes and kisses you deeply, certain you are falling in love with him

He swallows hard, realizing…something is happening to him.

Rival!Leto who finds his thoughts on you constantly throughout the day, who can't keep his eyes from devouring you when you enter a room.

Who desperately seeks a moment alone with you, to beckon you back to his bed. "I must have you again," he murmurs against your cheek in a darkened alcove.

He gathers you into his arms when you come to him that night and takes you to bed.

And the next night, and the next. Each night, telling you how he wants to fill you - his body climaxing at your eager acceptance

Who fucks you slow and deep one night, hand on your belly, hard and ready to burst as you beg him to fill you up - who finally utters his plan aloud. "I want you to carry my heir. I want my child to grow inside you."

You assume this is practically a marriage proposal. "Oh Leto..." you coo, coming apart in his arms. "I would love to be your wife."

He should tell you the truth. That he planned to breed you. To trap you on Caladan, to win your heart, and take your father's only treasure away from him.

But he sees an out - he can simply propose and all will be well

Rival!Leto, who didn't plan to actually fall in love with you

Who realizes, he's trapped himself. He loves you too much to lie anymore. So he confesses.

You don't seem upset with him, or even shocked. You simply kiss him deeply, coaxing him to hardness before joining your body with his once more.

Your father's rival, who has fallen in love with you, who wants to marry you, who will share children with you.

Your mission is accomplished. Your father will be proud.

And it cost you nothing. Because you accidentally fell in love with him too

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Read the sequel

Leto Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[yandere-wishes]

｡⸝❀Desert Rose ❀⸜｡

𐙚 Yandere! Paul Muad'Dib Atreides x Reader x Yandere! Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plot: You miss the desert. Miss the sun and the sand and the place where they buried your heart. So you run and pray that they won't catch you. 

⁀➷Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies blood and gore, bloodplay, knifeplay, injuries, Feyd being Feyd. Paul is high on spice for 60% of the story. Part two will be much more fluffy. 

The thing they don't tell you about the desert is that it's alive. A breathing creature with feelings and a beating heart.~💜

There's blood on the Sietch floor, red and thick and sacrilegious. 

You thought you had run far enough, fast enough. You thought you had escaped. 

How terrifying it is to be betrayed by that which you love most. How terrifying it is when you've forgotten how to harmonize with that which love most. 

That applies to the desert.

That applies to people too. 

There's something about the sun that's never been more poetic. It's harsh in its lashes, a cruel master, reminding you of what you'd been born into. It beats down something terrible and you can't help but suppress the frantic giggle that escapes your dry lips."You're so mean" you mumble, the glimmers muddle your focus. You see silhouettes of blue-eyed warlords and tar-painted gladiators. Feel phantom kisses rummage across the hollow of your bones. 

All of this is too familiar.

It makes you sick. 

Back then your father had reveled in Muad'Dib's coming. Proud to meet a warrior such as he. He'd spent hours refining his war plans, polishing his battle tactics. It's always such a strange site to see excitement in such a strict man. 

He introduced himself as destiny's child when he arrived. Dissolved and dehydrated with curls coated in sand. He was the desert's golden boy sent to fulfill every prophecy you'd ever been told. 

And yet, to you, he'd simply looked like just another heartthrob.

Just another boy's name to whisper to your friends during blasphemous games under the starry night sky. He had been no different than any tribal leader or warrior's son. That was truly such a miraculous time, back when such an atrocious thing had been merely a girlhood toy. 

Your father hadn't proposed marriage or alliances. That's not the Freman way, not during war. That doesn't stop the renegade gaze you've felt since he arrived. There's something stalking the desert, something too powerful to contain. You feel its chill, like the space between breaths before the breaching of the shai hulud. 

"You can call me Paul..." 

Lisan Al Gaib

The desert is a cacophony of dreams and nightmares. Deadly once the blood-deep navigation atrophies from constant complacency. You try to remember the prom of each foot. When to straighten, when to bend. Each step feels like treading through a mirage, murky and viscous. Too thick, too loose, you think you might sink. Fall through a false bottom into something great and endless. 

There is no bottom, no end. 

Only darkness, vast and perpetual. 

You wonder if that's what it feels like to be swallowed by a sandworm. If there is security in its infinite stomach. If it's better than the Arrakeen Palace. Daunting, soulless structure, home to monsters and killers. 

The sand grows thin. 

It's always the thinnest nearest a Sietch.

You made it...

You wonder why it had all felt so gruesome, so unholy. Paul's cacoon of naivety was breached, its remnants nesting underneath his feet, their spines snapping with each ground-quaking step he took. Arrakis had given birth to something monstrous, something ravenous. Yet all you had seen was a youthful face that tells not of horrors or suffering. It only promises freedom. 

Freedom was supposed to taste sweet, satisfying. The first sip from a childhood oasis. And you guess it had, for a little while. Before the realizations set in. Anyone who so openly grants freedom can take it away too. 

Paul inhales the reverence of the crowd. Savors the saccharine taste of victory on his tongue, before he spits out the essence of his hatred. Watching the blood scorch away under the desert sun. 

He swears he sees the sand dunes bow from the corner of his eye, they're towering magnificently bestowing something lethal onto him. Something they've yearned for, something fragile, something ancient. He deems it responsibility, duty, divinity and spins it into an enamelware crown.

Paul had become king. Not emperor, not sovereign, not overlord. Not yet at least. He's not the boy-prince from a distant planet anymore either. There no longer exists a boyhood carved of temperamental weathers and jagged salt-covered rocks. No more fairy tales of great dukes fighting bulls by the seaside and young princes running off on fighter jets to save mystical witches. There is only the sand and the giants underneath it, only a prophecy cracked whose ichor covers him in gold and stardust. 

He is Muad'Dib, savoir of Dune. 

Paul's eyes rummage through the crowd. Hungry, desperate

seeking out something, someone whose devotion does not show. 

He memorizes the scowl on your face, the dip of your lips. How he longs to feel them under his thumb. 

Duels concluded in death. When the ground has been fed its blood depts. When Jannah and Jahannam are granted another soul. That is when the victor arises. Duels end in death, in a chipped knife and a broken body on the floor. 

This one did not...

The memory still haunts you. 

Not in its breach of rite.

Nor its contradictions to morality.

But in what comes after.

The fear of the thing that was allowed to live...

Paul hadn't killed Feyd. Beaten, mauled, tamed. But not killed.

There is a rostrum made of sand and burnt bones. It was meant to serve as a victory throne, a symbol of a war and a revolt. You aren't so sure about that anymore. Not when it's being desecrated, by a survivor of the very thing it vowed to eradicate. Atop the dias, Paul stands, fingers swathed tightly around a pale, maimed wrist. The crowd stares, speechless as the prophetic son appoints a battered and bleeding Harkonnen Na-baron as his aid, his duke.  

Feyd-Rautha is all jet blacks and blood reds. His eyes hold daggers, impaling anyone who dares to look into them. You can not fathom why Paul, the one who promised a paradise and an end to the Harkonnen oppression would do such a thing. You never thought him holy, you didn't consider him cruel either. 

Paul hands over the spice trade to Feyd. He speaks of concentrated zones away from life. Somewhere deep and forgotten. He says "virtuous" as if it's a sermon only he can comprehend. "We need the funds, we need to rebuild, to fight. The spice is valuable and it will not hinder the awakening of Dune. My cousin will oversee its harvest and trade. The finances will be brought back to Arrakis, back to the Freman."

Maybe it's sorrow, a slithering nuance that won't leave. Maybe it's guilt twice folded and misplaced. Desperation for a kinsmanship

with a family, he had thought all lost. The way he looks at Feyd speaks of hope and trust and everything else a little boy feels when he's dragging his friend by the hand through a forest made of splendor and ideation. But Paul isn't a little boy anymore and Feyd has never been naught save a killer. And you, you can't help but notice how the Muad'dib begins to lose his golden hue. 

The Sietch is cavernous, domed ceiling that expands into the rocks and sandy tiles that stretch as far as the eye can see. Unaltered spice particles dance in the gentle filtered rays of the sun. It feels like home. Like freedom and paradise and everything else those two men had stripped you of. Your body slumps by one of the etched walls. Awaiting your fellow Freman to find you. 

There is a stiffness in the Freman, an elegance that must be mastered. You'd once thought it inherited, a mere bone structure passed on from mother to child. You're not so sure anymore. The stiffness reverberates off the Sietch walls, it's obvious now that it's never been about straight spines and high-held heads. It's the ideals, the loyalties that Fremen carve into their souls. Sooner or later someone will inform the king of where his darling hides. 

All of Arrakis knows who you belong to. 

One of the older women tunnels water down your throat, she cradles your head and shushes you when you try to speak. She spills advice, motherly advice, into your veins. Telling you of how blessed you are to be chosen by the Lisan Al Gaib and his blood. Her embrace is a vice, coddling suffocating and not at all unpleasant. There is a sleek comfort between the witherd silk of her chador. It heartens fatigue residing stubbornly between your bones. It causes your eyes to fade and your mind to race. You forgot the terrors that lay outside, the advancing menace carrying crystalknifes and a voice that shakes worlds. Darkness beckons, a welcomed change. For the first time in months, you feel safe...

You are still a Freman, born of sand and spice. There is a future somewhere with palm trees and rosa persica. You intend to find it, to hold it between your hands running tired fingers over soft cloud-light edges. Arrakis has stood for longer than most planets have existed. You refuse to abandon its fate to a spice addict and a manic.

It's obvious, isn't it?

Maybe it always was...

Arrakeen palace is shaped like a heart, something eternal ungraved. It was young when you first marched through its grand gates. It had felt no less threatening than the sandworms beneath your feet. The spice that flew through the halls was suffocating, a distant, permutated relative of the elixir that had raised you. 

Paul's chancery is something empty, a cut out of Kaahgel masquerading as a citadel of dominance and perspicuity. It, much like the rest of the palace is novice and new. Paul sits in an awkwardly placed plush parlor chair, one retrieved from Caladan no doubt. He squirms in his seat as if his body has too many angles to fit properly in the rounded chair. He's far too accustomed to soft sands and jagged boulders. To sitting cross-legged on something loose and malleable. This luxury is unwelcomed, uncomfortable. You only notice Feyd when his demonic eyes suddenly land on you. He's languidly draped on the carpeted floor. His back half propped up by a quarter-painted wall. He's feeding slices of fruit into his mouth, savering the nick of the knife along his tongue. 

They look so innocent. Sinless, carless little boys playing in a sanctuary fort. Hiding from life and its crushing expectations.

Paul follows his cousin's gaze, he's out of his seat and across the room before you have time to knock. You note the blackness under Paul's eyes, how the synthetic blue feels distant and sunken. Almost as if they're looking at you from meters inside a cave. He's wandering through the twilight of exhaustion. Paradying awakeness like a lost bat caught in the afternoon sun. He's only surviving on artificial energy from the spice he so readily consumes. 

There is an exhilarating lilt in the timber of his voice. A galvanization in the way your name spills from between his lips. "What brings you here?" Paul's fingers dance across your shoulders, gripping them as one does their favorite toy. His eyes hold a fragile reverence, something unstable, denating with the slightest breath. "Lord Usul..." you begin, eyes bouncing between the sandy beiges of the walls. "You don't need to be so formal. Just say my name, like the first time we met." His nails start to dig into your arms, a jovian strength only a divine may possess. You don't remember leaving a deep impression. 

"Paul, I-I need to talk to you about..." Your vision cuts to Feyd, a hidden flare penetrates his legs, you don't dare look the Harkonnen in the eyes. He's far too feral for such raw exhibitions of hate. Yet you want him to feel your abhorrence, your detest. Paul understands, he knows what you're going to say before you've even finished rehearsing in your head. "Feyd doesn't mind, you can talk freely in his presence, I promise you, he won't bite." You swallow the need to argue, to protest, he bites, he definitely bites, and lacerates and kills...

It's easy to fall between the crevices of his voice, to allow the gentle nudges to sway your decisions for you. You wonder if the words coming from your mouth are even truly your own. They had sounded so absolute in your head. So firm. Now they sound dented, feeble, like a child begging to remain awake. You tell the king of how you disapprove of the spice trade, that it should be ceased. Its termination can only benefit the war, hindering the galactical navigation of your enemies. Paul listens with a distracted sort of attendance. His eyes melt into you, tracing your features with a delicate precision. You feel like a map, laid bare, feeding him information. Information he ignores, opting to busy himself with tracing continents and oceans. "Paul please listen" you beg. "Please". You notice an ignited flicker in his eyes, snapping him out of his lucid trance. "You know, since you feel so strongly about...everything. Maybe, maybe you should stay here. With us. Be the queen or duchess or whatever. You can help us rebuild. You can-" 

"What?" Your body jerks back, his fingers don't leave your forearms, pulling you back, closer. "Lord Usual...Paul...what are-" Something slithers between your bones, your skin, your muscles. Pushing past the cracks and sliding inside you. His mind grasps yours, echoing his desire, mapping out its constellation between your crux. 

Paul feels in blues, blues that make up the nuance between worlds. 

The ocean behind the largest dune

The lake beneath the greatest mountain.

The lamination of spice over one's eyes. 

It somehow ends with you. Covered in a color that mimics ambitions and dreams and something practically attainable. 

You feel him reach out, pushing you back into the physical world. Away from the luminous tints and flickering landscapes. 

"I'm saying that everything I do reminds me of you. It's hard not to dedicate every single breath to your memory." Paul's eyes are blown wide, there's a lament carved into his voice. He's pleading, desperate, like trying to chisel rock with a pebble. You don't like where this is going, don't like the mania, the love that's painted so vividly on his face. Your stomach churns, false ecstasy pumping in agonizing doses. This is wrong, you shouldn't feel flattered, gleeful. This isn't a miracle or a blessing. It's a curse, you know this, you have to run to escape. But something in you freezes, a sickly silver of devotion, of habit, a tradition force-fed into your soul keeps your legs stiff and still. 

Devotion is such a slippery thing. Always so close to suffocating. Sometimes all it's good for is a knife that kills. Just a grain of salt in a pulsing wound. 

Your eyes flicker across the room, trying to look at something, anything but him, anything but the Muad'dib who could make you grovel at his feet like a doll without even opening his mouth. It's only in your frantic search for an affix point, that you notice the beast is missing. His dominion left empty. You feel a chill in the room. Something stalking closer, something lethal and rogue. You scream shriveling into Paul's arms as someone grips your waist from behind, encaging you. "You were right cousin, she's as beautiful as you described...and as brave." Your breath hitches, he's touching you. Your body twitches as a cold sweat breaks. "Paul" you plead looking up into his electric blue eyes. He only smiles, contorting his features into something they're not, something soft and arrogant. You see triumph shimmer through his mind. He's won a game you didn't know you were playing. Crowned victor by fate and circumstance and...

and prophecy.

Paul cradles your cheek in his hand, tilting your head up to look at you. 

 "The first time I set eyes upon you, I knew you were the girl in my dreams. The desert rose beckoning me to Arrakis, to Dune. Don't you see, we've been bound by fate?" 

No. 

Feyd slowly licks the shell of your ear, he hums in satisfaction, an action you didn't know could be laced with so much malice. He murmurs something into your jugular, something too violent to decode. 

No.

Please no. 

It's easier to love than to be loved. 

There's a jolt that rings you awake, something violent crawling under your skin. You feel it before you witness it, witness the cold and loneliness not viable in the desert temples. 

The halls scream in silence, 

Hollow, employed out. 

"Hello?" The eerie reverberation of your words leaves you shivering. Scraping along the walls, tumbling into doorless rooms trying to find someone, anyone. You can't remember the last time you'd been alone. 

Utterly alone.

You didn't notice it at first. Didn't notice the unnatural stillness and the deafening silence. there is no life here, but it takes a practically mangled corpse for you to look down at the floor. 

There's blood on the Sietch floor, red and thick and sacrilegious. 

You thought you had run far enough, fast enough. You thought you had escaped. You turn and you run, back from that which you came, feet thundering across the sand-dusted floor. You don't know where you're going, why even run? Helplessness swells inside you, coiling in intricate knots. Only to snap violently when you cross the third threshold. 

The corpses lie at his feet. your frenzied brain tries to count them, only going up to eight before it forgets what comes after. There is more, more bodies, more blood...more bones? But you can't focus on anything else except the glabrous man standing over them, knife pointed downwards, dripping into an endless sea of red. 

Your father used to tell you tales of rivers made of blood. Of mad men claiming divine crusades as they fed bodies into the endless stream. 

You never thought you'd witness it.

It shouldn't feel as conflicting as it does. 

"Darling..." Feyd's voice is gravel on gravel. Rough and coursed. It grinds against your skin reawakening every half-healed scar. 

"no, dear maker, please no" Feyd's gaze rakes over you, lingering on every detail. Toying and probing, much like a predator sizing up its frightened prey. "I missed you" his voice is purely threatening, mocking, he wants you back, needs you back. You can't be forgiven for this deliberate offense.

You try to bolt passed him, it's like a gallon of adrenaline has been shot straight into your chest. There's a scream in the air, you're not sure who it belongs to. you make it to the hallway leading to the contraction arena. Where the bearers of the water of life are nursed. You can see the stone-carved stairs and someone sitting there...

The ground slips beneath your feet, the red liquid having leaked under your soles. In the next breath, you're plunging into redness, shrouded and engulfed and bathed in the blood of your own kind. It feels warm and safe and disgusting. Like watching the stars of your favorite constellation collapse within themselves. It's a destructive kind of comfort, one that only ends in pain and bruises and fractured bones in places you can never wholly identify.

You're drowning, 

the more you thrash the harder it gets to stand. 

You feel the blood entangling you, weaving around your body like a net. 

and then like a shadow, he's over you. 

Looming with the promise of pain, of the misery of the savagery only he can offer.

"Feyd..." his name is razorblades upon your tongue. Your eyes catch his, distant voids colliding. Since when did you start looking into his eyes? When did the torture become worth it? His fingers ensnare your jaw, pushing cheeks and bones together. Feyd straddles your body, knees splashing into the blood. He tugs your head forward violently, before pounding it onto the floor. You moan out in pain a mangled, distorted noise. He only chuckles. Before repeating the motion. "You ran from us, you left us. I should kill you here and now. Bleed you out with the rest of these traitors!" it's hard not to notice the pain his voice harbors, odd how even a monster like Feyd can have his feelings hurt. He lifts his knife, wrapping both hands around the handle before plunging it into your abdomen. You choke, on a shriveled scream or a throat filled with blood you do not know. The colors are dulling and pulsating, somehow too dark and too bright at the same time. Everything feels like it's made of flowing water. Precious streaming water. You can feel the throbbing at the back of your skull, you feel the giddy patter of your heart, and the nervous ticks of your hips under Feyd. 

Feyd...

Has he always been so beautiful?

Your body feels so hot and your mind feels so distant. 

Everything feeds into his endless beauty. 

Why are your lips pulsing? 

your teeth sink in, trying to still the need to kiss. 

"What's wrong princess, trying to play innocent? I know your tricks."

Feyd traces your lips with his. Fingers snake into your hair, pulling at odd intervals. "my sweet stupid little girl" he whispers, a curse and a blessing. He sucks on your bottom lip biting it harshly. Slipping his tongue between your teeth. His kiss is possessive, and swallowing. You feel yourself sinking deeper, wanting him to consume you whole. When he pulls back you feel like you can't breathe, you only existed within his kiss. It's the last thing binding you to this world. 

But then his head dips down. Leaving open-mouthed kisses upon the gushing injury. Feyd drinks deeply from your open wound, ravaging the blood and pushing in silver of a forgotten moonlight. The way his tongue laps at the gaping hole and torn ligament sends a shutter up your spin. When he lifts his head again you watch mesmerized by the way your essence drips from his lips. He kisses you again ferocious and deep and all conusiming. 

You feel so lost and so found.

Grounded and afloat. 

It's only when a scream, a familiar one, in a distance distorted sort of way, rings across the hall that you start to pull away. You push yourself up, palms slipping on the liquid life. From behind Feyd, you notice a man and a women. Young, scared. There is revulse in their blue eyes, yet you can't navigate its direction. You're sure if you weren't bleeding out you could identify them, you're sure you knew them in this lifetime. You hear the blood gushing, hear the crisp whistle of the blade as it slices through flesh. 

Once

Twice. 

Only then does the alluring migraine sober. The metallic tang of blood wafting through the air makes you sick. It's odd how the repugnant scent had alluded you until now.  Even if you'd been lying right in it. You wonder if such a scent would bother them. You doubt it, they tend to revel in the red glory and its hypnotizing associations. 

"Took you long enough, cousin" Feyd's head is turned watching as Paul steps past the corpses. His eyes are vibrant, a sapphire blue that cuts through time and space. He kneels next to you, gaze devouring you in your pitiful state. "why did you run?" he is cold, hurt. His blue eyes betray a degree of relief hidden by a defrauding glower. "I-we love you, you mean everything to us." You look away too exhausted to put up an argument. "I missed being home." You mumble. You swore for a minute something akin to comprehension ripples through the air. You're too delusional to believe in anything solid anymore. But maybe Paul understands, maybe he yearns for the desert too. Maybe he'll go easy on you...

Paul's fingers glide across your stomach, scattering the dust particles that have landed on your still form. The light from the high windows glimmers off the three of you painting something holy, something right, in another world, in another lifetime. When he sees the wound Feyd created he chuckles. " Stars Feyd, at least try to keep her alive." Paul's nails gently rack across the torn ligament, idly playing with the loose skin. Feyd laughs deep and psychotic -is it wrong to say you missed it?- "I couldn't help myself, you should have seen her. Eyes blown wide covered in blood. Stars I just want-" you interrupt him with a low moan. Paul rubs his calloused thumb over your wound, soothing the cut before he presses down. Hard.  

 when he hears the moan he presses harder. Making you wither and hiss. "This is a punishment, (y/n), you're not supposed to be enjoying it." His fingers slither into the open wound, stretching out the ligament " You jolt and holler and cry, begging him to stop. "You're my oasis, the only thing I love in this world. But you ran. YOU LEFT US." His words glitch and crack, the voice shining through penetrating you with a knife seeped in guilt. "I'm sorry." you choke out, only to be rewarded by another harsh cut from Feyd's knife. "I'm the daughter of the desert..." you protest, tears slipping past your hooded eyes. "You're our lover" Feyd barks defensively, aggravated. When the tears begin to leak the pain stops. "Don't waste your water" Paul mutters, wiping away a tear and sucking it between his lips savoring your delicate taste. 

Paul cradles your bleeding head in his lap, lowering his to kiss your crimson-soaked lips, "I love you" he mumbles against you, trying to press the core of his words into you. Making you feel him, making you believe. Feyd tucks your hair out of your face. Slowly pulling you up by your shoulders. The thin smile he offers is such a rare sight it makes your heart explode.

Why did you run away?

Why did you leave the ones you love most?

Your heart is laying on a bed of nails.

Somehow that feels fitting. 

Feyd pulls off the top of his stillsuit, discarding the armor-like pieces. Slowly he lays in the gore, he pulls you over him. His motions slow, mesmeric. You follow just another wave trapped in the current. You're so torn and hurt, broken in ways that can never properly heal. You let it happen, it's easier this way. Slowly he licks his blade clean of your blood, he grabs your wrist places the hilt in your hands, and tucks your fingers over it. "Hold on tight," he advises as he draws your hand back and brings the knife down between his defined muscles. The moan he lets out is profane, it makes you feel euphoric, filled to the brim with the merriment of guilt. Feyd kisses you again, his tongue pushes past your teeth, his conquest of you feels Harkonnen in every way. His tongue down your throat feels like a heavenly bliss. From behind Paul breaks the back of your stillsuit, he licks a strip up and down your spine. You moan into the kiss with Feyd. Slowly Paul starts to whisper firefly kisses into each vertebrae. Sucking melodies into the frail bones. His teeth snick between the cartilage, all scorpion stings, and cobra bites. It feels so right.

Feyd is a cannibalistic star, relishing in the way your wounds bleed into his. He feeds off your pain, feeds off the pain you grant. He's delusional with a cosmic kind of lust. Pulling celestials from their homes to burn into his own body. He loves you, loves how you penetrate him with a knife clad in anathema and adherence too turbulent to understand. 

Paul is, in many ways Feyd's opposite and in many others his equal. The quintessence of the path to hell being paved with good intentions. His kisses are the desert's curse and it's love. He's an entire solar system revolving around the only two people he has left to love. 

Slowly the world grows dark. You feel it hard to remain awake. "Sweet dreams princess" you hear Paul whisper as Feyd shuffles under you. You fall into his expecting arms. Safe and strong. The day has been so long and bootless. so tiring. so vexing. 

Yet somehow, in the endlessness of the moment, it matters all so little. Paul is here and he can hang the stars upon the night sky. Feyd is here and he can slaughter the universe and call it entertainment. You are safe with them, safe and happy and satisfied. 

ngl this is the longest tag list I've ever gotten. THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!💜💜 Let me know if you want to be added to future taglists

@deertaur , @fragileheartbeats , @yandere-romanticaa , @galaxyquirks , @feedmestraycats , @peachysunrize , @slytherinholland , @missbeeentertainment , @moonchild-artemisdaughter , @shiranai-atsune , @therealoutereffect , @frenchgirlinlondon , @purplefrogella , @yzuposts , @whiteoakoak , @abundance-of-fic-reblogs , @pomtherine , @goldenatreides , @sorianis , @howibecameabadassbitch , @sansaorgana

[sansaorgana]

maybe i’ve been watching too much GOT/HOTD shit but…tttw au where reader decides to seduce paul into p much being her servant (kinda like what cersei did to jaime except she still does actually care for him a bit). and lady jessica pushes for the marriage between reader and feyd to get her away from paul. i just feel like that’d make the fight between feyd and paul just that much more personal 🫢

THROWN TO THE WOLVES MASTERLIST

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Hello! I hope you still remember my multichapter fic 🥴 It's been a long time but I needed a break from it to create other stories and finally it's time for me to write the requests that were about this universe. For the start I went with this twisted AU and be warned because I have abandoned all my moral compass while writing it lol 😳🙈 I mostly explored the dynamic between the characters here and I don't think you have to know "Thrown To The Wolves" to read this story but it surely will make more sense if you do! 😊 Also, since it's an AU – and a wicked one as well – I didn't tag anyone from this fic's taglist. I also didn't tag anyone from the Feyd-Rautha's taglist because it's an AU of already existing fic that not everyone has read, so... I didn't want to bother anyone 😅

WARNINGS — INCEST, mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut), Reader is NOT a good person (as we already know... but she's even worse here)

WORD COUNT — 5,380

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

Watching your half-brother train, you only pretended to read a book in front of you. You couldn’t focus on the words because you were still rethinking the argument you had with your father earlier. Now, when Paul was officially an adult, Duke Leto Atreides signed a document that only solidified your brother as the heir and the next Duke.

He might not have been from a legal union like you were, but he was a boy. However, you had a feeling it was about more than that. After all, if your father wanted to change the law and allow women to inherit, he would do that. No, it was about Paul being his favourite. It was about Paul being prepared for this role from the moment he was born. It was about Paul being born from a woman that your father truly loved. Unlike your mother whose cold grave you had visited earlier that day. You were the only one visiting her.

To think that you were supposed to be born a boy. Paul was supposed to be a girl. Yet, the cruel universe played a joke at your expense. And now you were a burden of the Atreides family instead of an heir. Unless…

The book you were reading was a history one, telling stories of ancient times and the ways of the noblemen in the past. It mentioned gross and yet fascinating acts of the forgotten practices to keep the royal bloodlines pure. Incestous relationships between cousins… and even siblings. At first, reading the book late at night in your room, you had felt disgust at the mention of a sister-wife. But now, watching Paul training and reliving an argument with your father, you began having second thoughts.

The only way of getting the title of The Atreides Duchess would be to marry Paul. And he was of gentle, soft nature. He was not only devoted to you in his brotherly, naive love but also innocently easy to manipulate. You had done that multiple times before already; making him take blame for something you did or do something for you that you didn’t feel like doing yourself.

Would he be easy to seduce, though? You wondered, trying to shake off a small wave of guilt and disgust at the thought. You had to be stronger than your moral compass to survive. You knew already that Lady Jessica was plotting behind your father’s back to send you away, to marry you off to some awful, insignificant lord and get rid of you. Seducing Paul was your only way of staying at home and of getting the power you wanted.

To have an apple and eat an apple, you thought, biting on your lower lip.

Paul was inexperienced with women. Not that you were very experienced with men yourself but you were observant and interested in the subject. You studied books, interactions, gossip. Paul was not interested in such affairs at all. His whole life was studying and training, being moody and sad about his future role of the Duke.

Oh, the irony. He didn’t even want to bear this title that you so badly craved.

You closed the book loudly, startling him a little and getting his attention. He raised an eyebrow at you but you only smirked and gathered your things to go back inside.

At the supper table, you were acting moody and annoyed. You watched from the corner of your eye how it was catching Paul’s interest. When you excused yourself in the middle of the meal and left, visibly pissed at something, it didn’t take him long to follow you.

“Sister, wait,” he called for you in the corridor when you were near the doors leading to your chambers. “What is it? Talk to me,” he pleaded and grabbed your arm from behind.

“Oh, sweet Paul,” you smiled and turned around to face his confused face. He was sweet indeed. And he was a pretty boy, which you hadn’t been thinking of before for obvious reasons. But it wouldn’t be that difficult to force yourself to kiss him and lay with him. “You’re so adorable for worrying about me,” you sighed. “You’re the only one here who cares for me.”

“That is not true, (Y/N), you know that,” Paul fixed a hair strand on your face to push it off of your cheek. “Our father loves you and my mother… She cares about you, too. In her own way. I know that.”

“Your mother?” You snorted, looking up to meet his worried gaze. “She’s plotting already, don’t you know? She wants to marry me off and… And you as well,” you lied, looking away and pretending to get all shy.

“What?” Paul furrowed his brows as he let go of your arm. He was shocked to hear your revelation. “Am I not too young to get married? I mean, I know I could but… Shouldn’t I get older and wiser and…”

“I know,” you interrupted him and looked back into his pretty hazel eyes. “But what can I say? They want you to have a future Duchess already, so she can come here and be trained how to be a great leader one day by your side… To replace me…” You faked a shiver of your voice. “That was the reason behind my argument with our father. What did he tell you?” You bit on your lower lip.

“That…” Paul swallowed thickly, not wanting to anger you or offend you, “That… That you are angry about me inheriting. I wanted us to talk about it, actually. I wanted to explain to you that it is not my wish. I would love to give the title to you. I do not wish to rule,” Paul assured you and took you by your hands.

All those sweet, gentle gestures that you had been giving no second thoughts until now since they were innocent. But now, you savoured each one of them, coming up with ideas how to use them against him.

“He lied,” you sighed and looked down, sadly. You felt a small sting in your heart but you had to ignore it. “The argument was about me not wanting to leave Caladan… Not wanting to leave my home and my family. I don’t want to be sent away… I will miss you, you’re all I have,” you faked a sob and hugged him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck so he couldn’t see how fake your crying was. You sniffed a few times to make it more authentic.

Paul was surprised and a little petrified. However, he put his arms around you to pull you closer and rub your back.

“Oh, sweet (Y/N), my dear sister… I won’t let them send you away if you don’t want to… And not to anyone you wouldn’t desire yourself,” he assured you.

“I don’t want you to get married yet either… I… I…” You were looking for the right words as you took a step back to look at him again, faking a shivering lip and glossy eyes by blinking a lot. “I wish we were children again. Just you and I, always together. I don’t want anyone to ever come between us.”

“No one will come between us, (Y/N),” Paul squeezed your fingers. “I promise you that. You’re my sister, you forever will be. I love you,” he nodded and gave you puppy eyes.

“You… You don’t understand,” you pulled away and opened the doors to your room. “Go away, I shouldn’t be near you,” you took a deep and dramatic breath in. “It’s bad for me, I… Oh, I shouldn’t tell,” you sighed and walked inside your room, hoping your weird reaction would intrigue him.

And indeed, Paul followed you inside. He caught you by your wrist and made you stop as the doors closed behind him. You had him trapped between the wall and your body even though he was the one holding your hand. But his grip was gentle as usual.

“I don’t understand, (Y/N). Please, what’s wrong? I hate to see you like this,” he was worried and desperate to help you. You bit on your lip and smirked, changing the atmosphere quickly as you took a step ahead and got free from the grip of his hand.

Taking a step ahead, you forced him to retreat and his back hit the wall. Your faces were inches away and you batted your eyelashes innocently as you stared at his lips hungrily.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Paul swallowed thickly.

“You wanted to know what’s wrong with me,” you whispered seductively. “It’s a sinful disease, Paul, and believe me, I’ve tried to get rid of it but I can’t. You’re all I can think about,” your words were so soft and quiet, almost inaudible, for his ears only.

“We…We shouldn’t… “Paul whimpered pathetically. However, he didn’t even try to push you away. You raised an eyebrow at him, genuinely surprised at the lack of more definitive reaction.

“So, you want me to stop? Tell me then, sweet brother. I don’t want to hurt you,” you assured him and caressed his cheek with the fingertips of your right hand. He closed his eyelids and breathed in your scent. “Want me to stop?” You repeated the question teasingly.

Paul didn’t dare to say it out loud. He only shook his head as a no.

You had expected this task to be easy but you didn’t suspect it to be that easy. When you pressed your body closer to his, you felt how hard he was between his legs. Poor sweet Paul, so desperate for any girl’s attention, so inexperienced. He would really let his own sister take care of him. You chuckled and finally joined your lips together in a gentle kiss, not wanting to scare him away.

It was your first kiss, too, after all. And, for some reason, you really liked it. You liked that your first kiss belonged to your own brother, to your own flesh and blood. Even if Lady Jessica sends you away one day to marry another man, he would never possess you with his first marriage kiss for your own brother had the honour.

“I know you love your mother,” you whispered after breaking the kiss. Paul’s cheeks were flushed, his lips parted. He opened his eyelids slowly, looking at you in awe. It was adorable. “But she hates me,” you reminded him. “You must change her attitude towards me, you know. You don’t want them to send me away, don’t you? Who else is gonna kiss you so sweetly when I’m away?”

“I… I must leave now,” Paul swallowed thickly and pushed you away before running out of the room.

It left you confused but you knew that your confusion was no match with his. He was turned on and scared, he needed alone time. So, you gave him that and went to sleep yourself, a little anxious but also excited since the plan seemed to be working better than you had been expecting.

At first, Paul was ignoring you. Shyly looking away, blushing like crazy, avoiding your gaze. But you were relentless, always around him, talking to him with other people around, forcing him to answer and look at you. Eating by the same table, you would find moments when no one paid attention so you could treat yourself with fruit and honey in the most seductive manner while looking into his eyes. And you made sure to touch him briefly every time you walked past him. The poor boy was in physical and mental torture, you could see that and you only waited for him to snap.

You began to wear more revealing dresses and show off your body. But everything changed on the day you walked inside his bathroom, pretending it was an accident. He was in the bathtub, you just wanted to borrow a towel – a stupid and unbelievable excuse.

However, you didn’t walk in on him relaxing or taking a nap in the embrace of  warm water, no. You walked in on him being busy with himself with his lips parted, head thrown back and eyes shut close. The name he was moaning out loud was yours.

Gently, not wanting to startle him, you helped him to finish. And even though at first he was terrified of you seeing him like that he quickly gave in, too desperate to have any shame left in his body.

That act sealed your sinful union. He finally gave in to the ill-natured attraction and began to follow you around like the most loyal servant. And whenever you were left alone, he was like an overexcited puppy, wanting to kiss and be kissed, wanting to touch and be touched. Just in case – aware of the norms noble women were supposed to live by – you didn’t allow him to actually spoil your innocence. But everything else was allowed.

You were not only pleased with your seductive skills and the fact you had the future Duke wrapped around your little finger. Some twisted, wicked part of you was also happy from the fact that you managed to spoil your father’s favourite child; his little precious toy was broken now. Paul Atreides was rotten forever now. There was no going back from such sin.

You were damned already anyway. But it felt nice to drag someone down with you just for the sake of annoying your father and Lady Jessica.

Your own pride made you less attentive and careful, meanwhile Paul’s mother was very observant when it came to her son. He was the apple of her eye. She knew that his relationship with you had always been close but she noticed the sudden odd mood swings of Paul. First, he avoided you nearly shyly, only to follow you around even more than ever before again? You two had always been hugging sometimes, sharing an innocent kiss here and there but now Lady Jessica felt like it was getting more and more often for you to share affections. And she felt bad for suspecting a weirdly sexual energy behind those acts but after some time she stopped feeling guilty as she realised something had been going on behind her back indeed.

One time she decided to follow her son who went straight to your chambers after the training. Her footsteps were light and quiet, she took her time and gave you an opportunity to develop the situation. She pressed her ear to the doors and heard soft moans, sweet praises. Even though she had been suspecting it, she still felt shocked and disgusted to find out the truth.

Your heart stopped in your chest as the doors were pushed open and you spotted Lady Jessica catching you kissing her son. His cheeks went crimson red in an instant.

“Mother…” He swallowed thickly, standing up and clasping his hands in front of himself, trying to hide his erection.

Lady Jessica was speechless. Her eyes widened at first and then they squinted as she laid them on you.

“You little witch,” she hissed at you. “You twisted, evil minx. What have you done?”

“Me?” You acted innocent but you couldn’t hide a smirk.

Yes, it was scary to be found out. But it gave you satisfaction that she now was aware of how you had spoiled her sweet, precious son.

“Mother, don’t blame her!” Paul sweetly defended you, he was truly adorable. But he was ignored by the both of you. It was between you and her. He was only a tool.

“Have you got any idea what you’ve done?” Lady Jessica asked you harshly.

“What about it?” You asked and clenched your jaw.

What was the worst punishment anyway? You realised suddenly that even being sent away wouldn’t be so bad… The victory of spoiling Paul was the most delicious part of this situation.

“I will not tell your father,” Lady Jessica approached you to put her hands on Paul’s arms to walk him away gently. “For his own sake. He would be devastated. But this will be over. You better start packing,” she gave you a contemptuous look.

“Mother, no!” Paul pleaded. “I love her, I do. Can’t I marry (Y/N)? That’s what our ancestors were doing, why can’t we?”

You chuckled at him. He was so sweetly naive. Lady Jessica slapped his face.

“Stop talking nonsense!” She pushed him out of the room and then gave you one last look. “You look proud of yourself for bewitching my son. I’ll make sure you’ll pay for that.”

“And you’re not proud of bewitching my father?” You asked.

“I will send you to the Harkonnens, you spoiled brat. Their rot matches yours. But good luck with bewitching any of them,” she threatened.

The mention of the Harkonnens made you scared indeed. But you didn’t want to show it. Not in front of her.

But she was right. Wrapping Paul around your finger had been easy. Too easy. Doing the same to a Harkonnen would not.

However, you decided to keep your head high. You would never show fear or defeat in front of Lady Jessica.

Because of Lady Jessica’s words, you treated the marriage with Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen like a challenge. With many attempts, you finally managed to tame him and it was your biggest pride.

Now you laughed at the memory of how proud you had been for spoiling Paul. It had been meaningless and too easy. Taming Feyd-Rautha to be your pet made you feel invincible.

Paul had been so naive and innocent that in the beginning of your marriage, he had still been sending you secret letters about his love and devotion. The news of his death had been nearly relieving – there would be no more pathetic, desperate letters, you had thought, while burning the last one.

Your husband knew about your past. Feyd-Rautha loved everything sick, twisted and rotten to the core. You had told him about Paul to impress him and it had worked. You had even allowed him to read some of the letters from Paul before burning them.

Finding out that Paul was alive after all, and he had gained power on Arrakis that you and your husband could only dream of, felt like a punch. You could see a switch in Feyd’s behaviour while you waited for the confrontation. He was observing you quietly and battling with his own thoughts. Feyd-Rautha had never been insecure before. But now he had a feeling you might still feel attraction to Paul Atreides. Especially now, when Paul was a powerful leader, too. After all, what spurred you on the most was power and influence.

What would Paul do seeing you again? You both wondered silently, without sharing your thoughts with each other. Would he want you back or would he toss you aside? Feyd feared that Paul still wanted you. You hoped he would. It would provide you safety no matter what outcome of that day would be.

Not that you didn’t love Feyd-Rautha. In the process of taming him, you had found yourself enamoured with him. You were two halves of the same rotten apple. But the most important thing for you was your own survival. Your own and the child’s under your heart.

The guards took you and other prisoners of the Arrakeen Palace to see the mysterious Muad’Dib but you all had already known who he truly was. The Reverend Mother, Princess Irulan and you – all the women amongst the prisoners – had known it for sure that the brave Fremen leader had to be an Atreides. You shared a connection with Paul, you were of the same father, the same surname, the same blood, the same flesh… Each other’s first lovers.

He looked different now; more mature. His hair was longer and curly instead of being neatly combed. His eyes were harsher and blue from the spice. You were nearly petrified at the sight of him because he… He looked handsome and attractive. You suddenly remembered all the shared kisses and affections and it made your cheeks burn.

“There you are, sweet sister,” Paul’s eyes sparkled at the sight of you. “I’ve been missing you,” he pointed out but you could spot harsh irony in his words.

From the corner of your eye you spotted Lady Jessica. Her power and influence had grown as well those past few months. She was a local Reverend Mother with her face covered under veils, chains and tattoos. She looked like the most intimidating and the most powerful person in the room. She probably was, even though you were standing next to The Emperor himself.

Lady Jessica had to already turn Paul against you. She had to tell him that you had been doing nothing but manipulating him for your own gain. You suddenly realised that you were in deep trouble and you instinctively searched for Feyd-Rautha’s hand to squeeze it. He was your husband, the father of your child, your perfect match made in hell. You had to keep him close, stay with him. Paul was never an option after all. He had been nothing but a game.

“Brother,” you greeted Paul with a nod of your head. “I thought you were dead.”

“You hoped,” Paul fixed you with a smirk.

“No,” you only answered.

“Come here,” he ordered. You felt the eyes of everyone watching intensely, wondering what was really going on. After all, the only people who knew about your unusual connection were Lady Jessica and Feyd-Rautha. Although you were suspecting that the Reverend Mother knew, too.

Feyd’s hand squeezed tighter around yours. He didn’t want you to leave his side. Walking up to Paul meant exposing yourself, you could be easily harmed. And it was not only about you at the moment. You were carrying the Harkonnen heir. The future Baron was growing under your heart.

“Come here,” Paul repeated the order, more harshly now. You let go of Feyd’s hand and walked away, feeling him move uncomfortably. However, he granted you personal freedom to make your own choices. He only watched carefully, like a guard dog that he was.

“I am here, brother,” you announced, standing right in front of Paul, facing him bravely. One of your hands rested on your abdomen.

“I am wiser now,” he told you. “I know that your intentions with me were never pure nor driven by your uncontrollable desires. You planned it all. Calculated.”

You remained silent, keeping your head high. You only heard the whispers of other people, wondering between each other what the conversation was about.

“And despite that knowledge, I must admit, I remain infatuated,” he confessed. “But you’re spoiled for me now. Your stench is one of the Harkonnens.”

“For I am a Harkonnen,” you nodded.

“Apparently, so am I,” he raised an eyebrow and you furrowed yours.

“How is that so?”

“The Baron… The late Baron,” Paul explained. “The one your husband slayed last night. He was my mother’s father.”

Everyone went silent. Those were two secrets that he had revealed – you didn’t want people to know that it was Feyd killing his uncle.

“You might have the Harkonnen blood flowing in your veins, dear brother, but you are no Harkonnen. You’re weak like an Atreides,” you spat out.

“Me? You, dear sister, you are weak. All your power, all your successes, they all only come from the men you have managed to wrap around your pretty little fingers. But you have achieved nothing yourself,” Paul’s jaw clenched as he reminded you with hatred burning through his eyes. “The only thing you actually did was to open your legs for the Harkonnen and carry his spawn,” Paul looked down at your womb with contempt.

There was so much jealousy in him, you spotted. He was not angry at you for manipulating him. He was angry at you for carrying another man’s child. And there was nothing more dangerous than a rejected lover.

Paul grabbed your wrist and pushed your hand away, exposing your swollen abdomen.

“You cannot touch her,” Feyd barked and Paul looked up behind your shoulder to meet your husband’s gaze.

“There he is, my sister’s new pet,” Paul’s words were braver than you expected. No one would dare to speak to Feyd-Rautha like that.

“It’s a nasty thing to be jealous,” your husband spoke. “You see, she is my wife, she lays with me every night. You are nothing but a tossed aside toy who has only been given a taste but never a full meal.”

Paul was right, you suddenly realised. That you held no real power, that it only came from the men you had associated yourself with. Because now they were talking about you as if you were an object.

“Are we here to witness some wicked family drama? Spare me that,” The Emperor’s voice made you all turn your heads to look at him. He was disgusted and annoyed.

“You are here to pay for what you’ve done to our father,” Paul left your side to approach The Emperor and you took the opportunity to hurry back to Feyd. You stood behind him, clinged to his muscular arm, feeling protected by his strong, armoured body.

“Stop your pathetic show, Atreides,” The Emperor smirked. “There is a massed armada in orbit. You’re facing a full invasion.”

“How can you be so sure the Great Houses are here for me? They may be curious to hear my side of the story, don’t you think?” Paul asked him. “I am Paul Atreides, son of Leto Atreides, Duke of Arrakis!”

“He’s a fraud,” Feyd chuckled ironically. “My wife is the Duchess Atreides, I am the Governor of this world.”

“And so it is,” The Emperor nodded. “You’re nothing but a Fremen terrorist.”

“Gurney,” Paul called out the name you recognised. But when you looked at the man, he had no love nor sympathy in his eyes for you. So, you showed none as well.

“My Lord,” Gurney nodded at your brother.

“Send a warning to all ships. If the Great Houses attack, our atomics will obliterate all the spice fields,” Paul threatened. 

He was a madman now, you thought as Gurney nodded.

“You’re out of your mind,” The Emperor pointed out what everyone was thinking,

“He’s bluffing,” your husband spoke up as you clinged to his arm even tighter. You had a feeling already how this confrontation would end up like. It was either you and Feyd or Paul. There was no other way. And Paul’s behaviour was worrying. You were starting to suspect he had higher chances of winning than you had been predicting.

He wouldn’t kill you. He still cared for you, perhaps he still craved you. He would never be nice to you, but he’d keep you close, of that you were sure. But he would never let your husband or your child live. And that was the moment when you realised that you didn’t only care about your own self.

You cared about Feyd and you cared about your son. Way more than about your life. You’d rather die alongside them than live a few more decades alongside your brother without them.

“Consider what you’re about to do, Paul Atreides,” The Reverend Mother warned him.

“Silence!” Paul screamed, using The Voice, startling everyone in the process.

It was no secret that this ability was reserved only for the Bene Gesserit. For the women of the order. A man possessing this knowledge was not only dangerous but also extremely powerful.

You were doomed, you thought, covering your abdomen with one of your hands again. Your unborn son was your only hope. The Reverend Mother had mentioned before that he was out of control. The Harkonnen medics had outdone themselves with their genetic manipulations while helping you to create life. His abilities could interfere with Paul’s.

But it was only an unborn baby with its brain not even yet fully developed. You couldn’t possibly count on him to save you. Right?

“Abomination,” The Reverend Mother muttered to herself.

“Message sent, my Lord,” Gurney announced.

“On what authority was this message sent?” You spoke up again, finally gaining the courage although it was easy to do so when you were still hiding behind Feyd. “I am the Duchess Atreides. The leaders of the Great Houses know that, too. They will not listen to the threats of terrorists!”

“As a servant of the Imperium, you will bow at my feet!” The Emperor snapped. Paul’s behaviour was getting out of control.

“Your feet?! You’ll be lucky to keep your head!” Paul yelled at him and walked up to all of you as he took a contemptuous look at Princess Irulan. “I’ll take the hand of your daughter,” he announced and you swallowed thickly at his plan.

So… He did not want to marry you anymore. Perhaps you wouldn’t be as safe as you had suspected before.

“She will remain safe,” Paul’s voice softened as he spoke. “And we will rule together over The Empire. But you…” he looked at The Emperor again. “You have to answer for my father.”

“Do you know why I killed him?” The Emperor squinted his eyes and despite feeling very detached from your family those past few months, you felt a little sting in your heart at the mention of your father.

You realised that now you were standing by the side of a man who was responsible for his death. What a twisted world you lived in. And what twisted things you had been forced to do to survive.

The Emperor approached Paul now as well, they were facing each other and you had to admit that despite his age, he was a brave man to do that. Everyone claimed he was not in his best shape anymore and that was true but the strength of his mind and spirit was still visible.

“Because he was a man who believed in the rules of the heart. But the heart is not meant to rule,” The Emperor explained. “In other words… your father was a weak man.”

You had this conversation before. With the Baron Harkonnen. Late Baron Harkonnen, you remembered. Now your husband was bearing the title. But yes, a few months earlier, in a dark room, you had this conversation with the Baron. You had agreed with him then. And despite the pain in Paul’s eyes, you had a feeling he was agreeing with this, too.

And Paul agreeing with such a statement could only mean that he no longer wanted to play nice. He had discarded your father’s ways and chose the path of violence.

“You will be defeated and your Empire will be mine,” Paul drawled out through gritted teeth before laying his eyes on you and Feyd. “And the cancer of this Empire that is The Harkonnen dynasty will be erased,” he added. “I will tear your spawn out of her body and take your wife as my concubine,” he told your husband. You felt his muscles tensing.

“The only thing you take, will be your death at the end of my blade,” Feyd warned him and took a step ahead, ignoring the way you were clutching onto his arm, trying to make him stay.

“You don’t even have one on you,” Paul pointed out.

“Then spare me a weapon and stand to fight me like a man,” Feyd dared him.

“Accept mine,” The Emperor offered and you stiffened at the realisation that it was not only the blade he was giving your husband but also the fate of the outcome of this day, the fate of the Empire, the fate of his and his daughter’s life. Feyd nodded and you approached him one last time before the duel.

“Do not fail me,” you pleaded harshly.

“You want these to be the last words you tell your husband before his death?” Feyd teased with a smirk. Fearless as usual; he never feared the end of his life. Not in combat at least. He had told you already that this sort of death was everything he had been wishing for. To die like a warrior.

“No,” you shook your head with a nervous smile. “So make sure they won’t be.”

MASTERLIST

[fishfooddude]

Last Updated: 02/17/2025

Teasing

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy is a tease, and you love it. MDNI 18+

Elementary School

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy comes to pick you up from work while Richie teases the two of you

What Happens In Vegas Doesn't Always Stay In Vegas

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x OC A four-part series about a past mistake both Carmy and Ellie had long forgotten about. Part 1: Those are Legal? Part 2: The Bear, Abuse of Power, and a Dick Measuring Contest Part 3: The Fight Part 4: DC in October

Family Ties

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy butts heads with his 17-year-old daughter

Father's Day

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Father's day cards covered in glitter and a surprise, what more could Carmy ask for?

High School

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy didn't like high school, but he did like you, so when you asked him to come speak to this year's graduating class, how could he say no?

Food is Love

~Requested~ (forgot to give it a title) Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader After the passing of your father, you have a hankering for "Daddy Soup." You can't figure out the recipe, so you enlist the help of your Michelin star boyfriend to figure it out

Slumber Party

~Requested~ Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader You didn't take Carmy as a 3-in-1 guy but I guess sleeping over at his place for the first time gives you a good amount of insight on your boyfriend.

Feral

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader After work fun ~ MDNI 18+

Our Future (2 Parts)

Richard "Richie" Jerimovich x Reader Age gaps can be difficult. Being at two different times in your life makes the idea of the future seem impossible. Part 1: Our Future Part 2: Our Present

Social Media Manager: The Series

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Marcus's friend Rusty is intriguing, and Carmy wants to get to know her better. Why not hire her to revamp The Bear's social media pages? Part 1: Introductions and Donuts Part 2: Meetings, Meetings, Meetings Part 3: Drinks? Part 4: Bars and Miscommunication

The Carmy Blurb Playlist

A collection of Carmy blurbs inspired by songs I dig that give me Carmy vibes

A Different Point of View

Natalie Berzatto's POV on the events of Season 1

Cigarettes Multiverse (3 Parts)

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader MDNI 18+ Friends with benefits worked for you and Carmy until it didn't. Part 1: Cigarettes - Rozei Part 2: Girlfriend Treatment Part 3: Boyfriend Treatment

Six Months (5 parts)

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Six months postpartum and six months of celibacy, is a sexually frustrated Carmy going to risk his marriage and future relationship with his daughter for a woman who smells like artificial vanilla? Part 1: Six Months Part 2: The Night It Went Wrong Part 3: The Aftermath Part 4: Two Months Part 5: Healing

Three-Three-Three

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Based on the fridge scene of the S2 finale; you help Carmy calm down when he's having a panic attack

You're un-beet-liveable

Sydney "Syd" Aduam x Male Reader (actually, it's Paul Mescal) A cute delivery guy makes Syd a little less annoyed that Carmy asked her to come in early.

Is this what you were looking for?

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy has a habit of misplacing his wedding ring, so he came up with a better alternative.

The Playdate

Richard "Richie" Jerimovich x Reader Tiffany asks if Richie can pick Eva up from a playdate.

Lockdowns & Ladyfingers

Chef Luca x Reader Luca is the hot neighbor, after getting the 411 from the grannies in the building; you make your move.

Our Life

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader You see Carmy's sketchbook and can't help but fall more in love with him.

Love Story

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Just a sweet lil narrative of Carmy fallin' for you

Sorry?

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader The story of the time you don't get off MDNI 18+

Cooking Class

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader "Six Months" universe spin-off sorta... Sugar actions off a cooking class hosted by our favorite little chef,. Carmy is a sexy man here's his response to some unwanted flirtation.

That Poster Trend

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader With Carmy's 30th birthday fast approaching, you were struggling to figure out the perfect gift for him—at least until you were reminded of that TikTok beer poster trend.

Fatherhood: Carmy Berzatto

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto's adventures in single fatherhood.

Proposal Gone Wrong

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy wants nothing more than to marry you; unfortunately, with his luck, Murphy's Law took over.

How do you do it?

Richard "Richie" Jerimovich x Reader Richie's at his wits end with Carmy. Some advice may make it a little better.

To Chicago and Beyond

Carmen "Carmy" Beratto x Reader Long distance becomes short distance- so short you're within arm's reach of each other.

The Joy Of Cooking

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader You and Carmy are moving in together; nothing bad could happen, right?

Gimme a Minute

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Just something I threw together while I was waiting for my individual supervision session to start.

Drunken Escapades

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader It turns out you met Mikey before he passed; you just didn't know it. Part 1: Drunken Escapades Part 2 : Drunken Escapades Brought Us Here(MDNI 18+)

No Phone Policy

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader I'm in an angsty mood; I'm sorry, everyone. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 The Prequel Part 5 Part 6

Allergic to Sunshine

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Request!

Double Trouble

Richard "Richie" Jerimovich x Reader MDNI 18+ Double the trouble but twice the joy. Thank you, God, for giving me a twin. Do you ever have one of those stupid ideas that sticks in your brain even though it feels kinda stupid? Yea... that's what this was. Part 1: Double Trouble Part 2: I'll Raise You One Better Part 3: Wedding of the Year

Coffee Run

Sydney "Syd" Adamu x Reader Someone requested a Syd x fem reader story a few months ago, and here it is!

Hot Stuff

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Request! Carmy with a plus size reader and him comforting her while she’s not feeling pretty.

Written Romance

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Request! Carmy finds love in an indie book shop.

Non-Casual Dominance

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader MDNI 18+ Carmy gets a little dominant on you.

Worm Universe

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader MDNI 18+ Carmy got you pregnant, and boy, oh boy, was it a wild ride. Part 1: Would you still love me if I was a worm? Part 2: Yes I Would Part 3: I Hate New York

Mr. Berzatto

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Carmy's Dad left the family when he was a kid. Everyone assumed he was dead or in jail or fled the country, who knows. Turns out he never left Chicago, when he turns up in your vintage shop, you're none the wiser.

Verified Lover

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x OC The chef and the popstar's iconic love story Track 1: Blue Check Heart

Second Chances

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader Request! Two years of no contact and a pregnancy later, you find yourself in Chicago. Will Carmy want a relationship with his daughter? Do you want to give him a second chance after he'd broken your heart over two years ago?

[firelilyfox]

Choose Your Next Words Carefully

Dune: Paul Atreides x female reader

Warnings: se&ual harassment (assault) / cursing / angst / blood

Words: 2k

Summary: Paul & you were childhood friends but suddenly he distanced from you. On a night full of celebration you get into trouble & Paul protects you … but what happened two years ago?

______________________

Caladan looked even more beautiful at night. 

You are watching the peaceful waves collapsing under the balcony you are standing on. Behind the whole castle is celebrating another victory against the Harkonnen. A soft breeze lets the fabric of your dress flow in the wind and you take a deep breath of the salty air. 

It wasn’t your wish to be here tonight, but your father insisted that you would watch him getting honored for his work for Duke Leto. And you did. But when the duke’s son joined the celebration, you had to get out of there as soon as possible. 

You and Paul Atreides had a very … complicated past. 

As long as you could remember you had a crush on him and he knew it all along. When the two of you were younger, you would play everyday and make mischief all around the castle. But suddenly you barley saw him once a week and Paul acted kinda cold around you. Once you wanted to talk to him about his weird behavior, he just laughed at you and made fun of you for having a crush on him. Everybody around could hear him laughing and began to pity you for being so naive. 

The daughter of a soldier would never be good enough for a future Duke. 

You never spoke to Paul again. This was two years ago, but every time you see him at big events, your heart tightens and you become overwhelmed with sadness and anger. How could he do something like that to you? Even if he never had felt the same for you as you did for him … friends don’t hurt each other like that. 

„What are you doing out here?“, a voice asked behind you. When you turned around you saw a man standing there, looking at you with a drunk smile. It was a friend of your father. A soldier, just like him. 

„Just catching some fresh air“, you said. 

The man comes closer to you, stumbling over his own feet. His wrinkly face showed many scars from battle in the past. „It is dangerous … for a young Lady … out here.“ 

He leans towards you, but you duck away from him. „Uh.. thanks for the heads up. I will go inside … where its safer.“ 

As you turn your back again, you can hear him mumbling something about find me later, but you don’t want to keep listening to this creepy guy.  

Quickly your feet carrying you inside the great hall, where most of the people are dancing and drinking. You couldn’t see your father anywhere because you are shorter than most of the men and women here. So you decide to get on one of the stone benches to get a better view from up there. 

„These things are meant to sit on, you know?“ 

Green eyes. A crooked grin. Freckles. 

„What do you know, Atreides? Shouldn’t your royal ass be sitting on a throne or something?“

Paul chuckles. „Sassy as always. Some things never change, hm?“ 

You rolled your eyes and went back to keep on looking for your father, so you could finally leave this goddamn party. That’s when Paul joined you on the bench. 

„What are we looking for?“, he asked amused. 

You’re frowning at him. „WE are not looking for anything. I am looking for my father. And YOU should leave me alone, Atreides.“ 

Paul looks confused. „Have you forgotten my first name? It’s Paul, you know?“ He smiled again and you catch yourself almost smiling at his dumb joke. But you manage to pull yourself together before that happens. It almost felt like when you were kids. 

„Fuck off, Paul.“ You jump from the bench and trying to make a way through the crowd of drunk, dancing people. Paul follows you. 

„You tell your future Duke to fuck off? Hah! You are as brave as I remember“, he says laughing. Before you could respond anything, Paul grabs your wrist and turns you around. His other hand holding your waist and you find yourself pressed against him. The high difference forces you to look up at him. 

„What are you doing?“, you stutter. 

A smirk appears on his face, as if he know how much impact his presence has on you. „I’m dancing with you. I mean we are on the dance floor.“ 

For a moment you let yourself enjoy the feeling of being so close to him. The pressure of his hand on your lower back, his chest moving against yours. Your fingers on his bicep. Hands holding each other. This was something you always dreamed about. Your heart begins to pound like crazy. His smile faded and his gaze softened. Now he looks at you like you are the only thing that is existent. Time moves slower. Noise faded. Only you and him. 

Paul leans his forehead against yours, closings his eyes and he takes a deep breath. The moment was intimate and all you wished for at some point … but it felt wrong. 

„What has gotten into you tonight?“ You pushed him away. A hurt expression crossed his face and you almost felt bad. „Two years, Paul. Two years and now this?“ 

Without waiting for a stupid response you took off and managed to find a way through the crowd out in the hallways. Tears filled your eyes, but you are to stubborn to let them run down your face, exposing your hurt feelings. 

Desperate for some privacy you opened a small door and find an empty room with sofas. The perfect hiding spot until you’ll be able to shove down your feelings again. 

„I see. The Lady found me.“ 

A high pinched scream escaped your throat as you were grabbed roughly by the shoulders and got pushed down on one of the sofas. Your head slammed against something hard and you feel warm blood running down your cheek. 

The man from the balcony holds you down with a big smile on his face. His gaze is hidden in shadows but you recognize him. 

„Let me go! My father will behead you with his own hands!“ You scream at him, trying to get away but against his heavy body you have no chance. 

He was not listening and even if he was, he seemed not to care. The man took one hand of your shoulder to grab you by the neck to choke you and the other hand loosened up his pants. 

„No. No please. No“, you beg for him to stop. 

„Not so bratty anymore, hm? I shall teach you a lesson you little slut! I will…“ 

But his words came to stop. Slowly you opened your eyes again, as his grip around your neck got loose again. You could see a knife at his throat, forcing him to stop and not move a muscle. The hand, that was holding the knife belonged to … Paul. 

He was standing behind the man. His eyes dark and full of rage. The knife scratching the skin and making the old man bleed a little bit. 

The old guy shouted in anger. „Whoever dares to interrupt me will be punished!“ 

Paul chuckled dangerously silent and forced the man to turn around to look at him. His eyes widened in shock. „My Lord“, he whispered. „I didn’t know that you own this whore … I mean I …“ 

„If I were you“, Paul interrupted him with a deadly glance. „I would choose my next words very carefully.“ 

Paul lays more pressure on the knife and it’s cutting deeper into his skin. The man began to whimper. Before the damage would be irreversible, Paul pushed him to the ground. 

„I won’t wash my hands in your blood.“ As if he had given a silent sign, two guards came in to drag the man outside. „These guys will handle that.“ 

You look at Pauls back. He was standing there like a true leader. Like the man he became. He was not a child anymore … and neither were you. 

As the door closes again he dropped the knife and turned around to you. Faster than lighting he got down on one knee to met your eyes at the same hight. His hands cupping your face and he wipes your tears away that mixed up with the blood. 

„Does it hurt badly?“, he asked with a soft voice. The contrast to his fearless and deadly side couldn’t be any bigger. 

You shake your head. „No it’s fine.“ 

„He will be beheaded in the morning. You don’t have to worry about seeing him ever again.“ Paul tries to calm you down. His eyes holding your own captured and you weren’t able to look away. 

„Thanks. I mean …“, you shake your head again getting rid of his hands. „I should go now.“ 

You stand up and opening the door. Paul is standing right behind you, pushing the door shut again. His hand were right next to your head but you refuse tu turn around right away. 

„Please let me explain“, he whispered. Paul was so close, that you could feel his breath on your skin. You sigh but still refuse to turn around to look at him. 

„There is nothing to explain. I know everything that I need to know.“ 

„You asked me what has gotten into me tonight.“ 

You stay silent. 

Paul sighted. „My father told me that I don’t have to be married to be the next Duke.“

Confusion brings you to look over your shoulder and met his sad green eyes. The honesty in them lets you turn around. „What does that have to do with me?“ 

He smiled but it looked so sad and broken. „Everything. I … i stayed away from you on purpose, y/n.“ 

„What do you mean?“ 

„The day you told me, that you … you had feelings for me, was the same day my father told me to that I have to marry Princess Irulan in the future. I was so mad at him because I already lost my heart to someone and I … but he said that it had to be this way.“ 

„So you let out your anger about your father out on me?“, you asked angrily. 

Paul shakes his head. „No. I just thought … if you would hate me … then it would be easier for me to stay away from you.“ 

Suddenly all fell right into place. His behavior on that day two years ago made much more sense … he was cold and distant but… 

You punched him on the arm. „That still don’t give you the permission to act like an asshole!“ 

Paul smiled and nodded apologetically. „You are right but I was young and not so smart like I thought I wished to be.“ 

A moment of silence fell over the two of you. Just the eyes spoke louder than a voice could ever manage to do. 

„So … you lost your heart to someone else than your reflection in the mirror?“, you joked. 

„God I missed your sassy mouth so much!“ Paul laughed and it was the first real laughter you heard from him for such a long time. „Yeah i did. Even if my reflection is pretty stunning … nothing compares to the girl that I lost my heart and soul to.“ 

Paul gently laid his hand on your cheek making sure you keep on looking into his eyes before  he kept on talking. „I always loved you, y/n. Of course I did! How could I not love you?“ 

Tears start to fill your eyes again … but this time for a good reason. 

„You are still an asshole for behaving like that, Atreides.“ 

His smile melted your heart away. „Will you forgive me?“ 

You nod. 

Paul slowly leans towards you and when his lips met yours, there where nothing else to say. 

[sscrslvr]

"precious. "

(paul atreides x female!reader)

Part 1: Destined to Be

Word count: 3.1k

Description: At a party in the Atreides' Caladan mansion, you, the lovely and honorable princess of House Corrino, are introduced to Paul Atreides. You two are attracted to one another right away. You and Paul have an unrivaled electric chemistry. You're wickedly smart, terribly funny, and perfectly flawless, and Paul is just the same. You and Paul become closer, both literally and figuratively, with every second that goes by. You both secretly concur that you would be more than happy to continue pursuing whatever odd thing was occurring between you two for longer than one night, no matter what it took.

Warnings: Fem!reader, princess!reader, Corrino!reader, mentions of sexual activites(no actual smut yet), brief mentions of alcohol and drugs/spice, (SPOILER: talk of political marriage)

Authors note: I worked hard to make sure this was mostly lore accurate with no spelling or grammatical errors. I PRAY that ya'll are okay with whatever format this is lol. This is my first fanfic EVER so I'm open to criticism!!! Let me know if you have any recommendations or anything, I'm planning to make this a pretty long series, but this part is sort of like a teaser to see if you even want any more parts. This DOES end quite abruptly. Anyways, enjoy!

______________________________________________________________

“--Duke Atreides, you have simply outdone yourself,” a peculiarly tipsy lady had said to Paul just a moment ago. Her drunkenness explained how she mistook the boy for Duke Leto, Paul’s father. Her jeweled fingers held a wine-filled crystal glass with a lipstick-covered rim above her head in celebration, her gaze drifting around the large dining hall, which was filled with people of all sorts. 

The people in the room were either high-class citizens of the Imperial House Corrino and House Atreides, nobles of the Landsraad Council, the wealthiest Ixian engineers, or the Imperium’s favorite spice smugglers—who were disguised as wealthy folk, of course. Everyone was dressed in their finest suits and gowns, drinking spice-melange-infused liquor and the famous Caladanian fine wine. At first glance, it was a party. A grand one at that. But in reality, it was just another boring political meeting disguised as an entertaining event—mainly so the elites’ children could grow more familiar with each other for when they will have to take on their parents’ roles. You and Paul fell under that category. 

“The compliments go to my mother; she did all the planning,” Paul replied plainly, eager to shake this strange woman off of him. You had seen many women come up to him, hoping to find some entertainment at this party. However, Paul remained firm and treated them all the same: dismissive but respectful. You notice his eyes dart around the room, searching for somebody else to converse with, before they land on Gurney Halleck, the Atreides’ weapons master, who was drunkenly singing and strumming the strings of his baliset. Paul bid the woman a hasty farewell, then paced off into the crowd of old nobles with leathery faces who reeked of spice melange until he was out of your view, so you decided to focus your mind on something else to pass time.

You were seated in a velvet-cushioned armchair at a small table in the corner of the dining hall, which you had found around 10 minutes ago to escape awkward, persisting conversation with some unknown young lord of some old forgotten land—whose breath smelled like manure and greed and some of the main course from tonight's meal. You presently sighed at the painfully recent memory, praying to some god that you would never again have to cross paths with whoever that was. To distract yourself, you studied the room. 

Glowglobes had been freshly lighted to appease light among the early dark, casting shades of orange upon the pristine marble floors that held swirling colors of the richest maroons and emerald greens and precious golds. Your eyes dragged across the floor to the other side of the room, which had an entryway cut out of the stone wall. Around a dozen foolish female guests were crowding the center of the Great Hall, grouped around the palace’s grand fireplace. An open blaze crackled there, emitting heat and small flickers of light onto jewels and beads and costly fabrics of the women’s dresses. They were all quietly cursing themselves for mistaking Caladan for a warm environment, wishing they’d brought their fine whale fur coverings—or at least had worn longer gowns. 

You stared at them, now realizing that half of them were the daughters of spice smugglers and the other half were most likely some descendants from the nobles of the Landsraad Council. One girl in an unsightly yellow-gold dress noticed your eyes upon the even more unsightly group, which evoked whispers to protrude from their thin lips and resulted in you turning your head in the opposite direction to avoid conflict—or worse, another unwanted conversation.

You sighed again, looking down at your bejeweled hands and fingers. You were observant. Too observant. You noticed every little detail, blaming the fact you were locked away in a palace for half of your life due to your father’s overprotective nature. Because of him, you normally succumbed to the library instead of pursuing a thrilling nightlife like other girls your age. But he had a good reason. He is none other than the Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV, an extremely noble man who rules the entirety of the known universe. With you being the most beautiful of his many daughters, he felt he needed to protect you from the horrors of the Imperium. And to make sure you never had to rely on a husband in the future, he made sure you were very well educated in geography, politics, history, economics, and so on. Because of this, you were wickedly intelligent, which ultimately heightened your observant nature.

Looking down at your glass of wine, noticing how the dim lighting reflected off of the deep red color, you entirely miss the fact that someone sat down at your table. Maybe you aren’t so observant after all.

“I beg that you don’t talk to me,” a male voice muttered in your direction. You quickly looked up, slightly offended by his words. You then saw it was Paul Atreides, and he had not even looked at you yet. You guessed he was avoiding all forms of contact, assuming you were just some stranger, which was self-explanatory because you were, in fact, sitting in a corner by yourself. “This party is giving me a migraine; I feel as if a sandworm is burying into my cranium,” he whispered under his breath to nobody in particular.

You started laughing at his analogy but desperately tried to choke back the sound. You averted your eyes back down to the table, shaking your head as your lips remained curved in a smile. You found it humorous, the sight of a young noble of the great House Atreides so bored and agitated at a very important event he’d even taken part in hosting. You thought it was amusing that he’d decide to start a conversation with you, if you could even call it that.

“...You were not supposed to hear that; I apologize,” he said genuinely after looking up and ogling at you for a few long seconds. Shocked was an understatement; he was bewildered. He had been eyeing you since you arrived, noticing that you had been looking at him as well. He knew who you were; everyone did, but he hadn't realized it was you he had spoken so rudely to. Paul Atreides had seen plenty of pretty women in his years of living; however, none of them seemed to stack up to you in terms of the effect you had. You certainly lived up to the rumors he’d heard about you—you were every bit the desirable daughter of the Emperor. While he typically remained aloof to women in general—as you had observed earlier—he found himself a bit more engaged in your proximity.

“Relax, Atreides. I won't call my Sardaukar troops on you… yet.” You tease, turning towards him and looking into his green eyes. He had a terrifyingly charming face; his hawk-like features and emerald irises made it nearly impossible to look away from him. And his hair… His hair was perfectly tousled, his dark brown curls twisted and twirled in every right direction. Your smile widens; you are fully amused now, thrilled to finally converse with someone of interest to you. 

“And when does your highness plan to call them?” Paul posed in a faux-serious manner; his eyes sparkled with tease. He found himself shocked by both the sincerity of your amusement and the boldness of your words, which instantly tells him that you are, in fact, the Imperial princess of House Corrino, and you damn well have authority over him. He leans forward, resting his chin against his hand as he presses an elbow onto the table, regarding you with more attention than he had given any of the other guests this evening. His head tilts to the side as he studies the ineffability of your beautiful face, a lock of his hair falling into his eyes in the process.

“I will call them the next time you refer to me as ‘your highness,’ and I’ll be sure that my troops slice you to bite-sized pieces with their lasguns.” You jest, dramatically clutching your chest, your lips subtly curled upwards in a snarling frown in an attempt at disgust. Your ‘seriousness’ only lasts a couple of seconds before a wide grin returns to your face. Unfortunately or fortunately, it was hard to decide; you were growing more interested in Paul by the second.

“And you seem the type to follow through with your threats… Independent and well-calculated, just like your father.” He mused; his compliment was subtle, but he knew you’d detect it. He smirked at your reaction, bewitched by how your soft lips twitched upwards as you smiled. Yes, he certainly found you intriguing, a bit more than he should have.

“Threats? No, no. Favors, Paul Atreides.” You note back with a sly smirk, directing your attention to four women who were whispering in a circle. You gesture for him to look as well before you lean in and whisper, “It seems that group has taken quite an interest in you, don’t you think? You see that girl in the disappointing yellow-gold dress? That’s a spice smuggler’s daughter, and when I was grabbing a glass of wine from the beverage table, I overheard her sharing all of the things she wanted to do with you tonight.” Your words were woefully true, but you were only speaking them to further tease poor Paul.

“How unfortunate for her, then. I’d rather not associate myself with women of that sort. I have more… discriminating tastes.” Paul replied after biting back a laugh when you mentioned the daughter of the spice smuggler, the last person he’d ever want as a potential betrothed. He turned his gaze back to you as he spoke, his eyes focusing oddly more on your eyes, as if he wanted to memorize the way the colors in your iris blended together and created a reflection of your mind and soul. His stare wandered to your body, noticing how well you’d adorned an elegant dress of the finest silk. The future Duke was so drawn to you he could almost swear that you were a Bene Gesserit witch playing tricks on his mind. You had him enamored. He never wanted this banter to end.

“Discriminating tastes? Oh Paul, do tell,” you replied, a smirk plastered upon your masterpiece of a face. You are definitely enjoying this encounter. Paul Atreides was the only man at this gathering you’d be willing to associate with. You can’t help but glance at his lips every now and then as he grins, the sight so precious you would’ve compensated a painter one million Solaris to replicate his smile. You were falling deeper into whatever this was with each passing moment, prideful to know that you were the only one who could match these discriminating tastes he spoke about. 

“My tastes would have me avoid the… gold,” he gestures in the direction of the young lady, “and look towards more… priceless treasures.” He leaned back in his chair, directing his attention back to you. Paul held your gaze, a soft, proud smirk apparent on his face. He knows the implication of his words will be obvious, especially to you. It only took him a few seconds earlier in the beginning of your conversation to pick up on your wit and intelligence.

“Well, it seems you've unfortunately eliminated a hefty majority of the women in this room from your taste profile,” you murmur, a teasing smile lifting the corners of your lips. However, as his words sink in, it grows into a more genuine grin; it seems stars have even started to twinkle in your eyes. You have this Atreides ducal heir wrapped around your finger, and you are quite ashamed to admit that he has the same effect on you as you do on him.

“That must mean fewer opportunities for my taste to be satisfied,” he muses, the playful tone in his voice betraying the sincerity in his eyes. “Perhaps the one I'm speaking to will suffice,” he adds, his lips twitching upwards in a smug grin. Paul now looks at you, the princess of the Great House Corrino, like you're the only woman in the world. His stare is so intense, so prying and intimate, that you feel like a soft blue egg lying in a nest of your mother's feathers high up in a swaying tree, vulnerable.

“Perhaps,” you echo as a means of replying. You lean forward, almost instinctively, and place your elbow on the table, resting your head in your hand. Looking up at the handsome Paul Atreides, you try to dissect his soul through his eyes. Your eyes hinted ‘yes,’ but your tone lied and whispered, ‘We’ll see.’. Is Paul bright enough to pick the correct answer between the two? Hm. Perhaps this party isn’t so boring.

Paul notices the agreement in your eyes and the playfulness in your tone. His gaze holds yours a bit longer before drifting to your perfect, sensuous lips. God, he’d be lying if he said he didn't want more of you. But the most dangerous thing was that you wanted more of him as well. You two look into each other's eyes again for one moment… Two moments—before Paul decides to speak for the both of you.

“I find myself wanting to satisfy my more… carnal tastes,” he admits with no hint of shame; his voice drops to a lower tone, laced with one too many touches of desire as he looks at your lips once more, “if we’re speaking in honesty.” He smirks, his eyes flick back up to yours as he waits for your response.

“Well, Paul Atreides, if we are speaking honestly, I must admit that I would be more than willing to engage in satisfying both our carnal desires. But I… like you.” You whisper, leaning closer as a soft smirk paints itself across your face. “If anything were to happen between us after this party concludes, I wouldn't wish for it to be a one-time thing. However, given our family backgrounds, we’d have to keep this a secret, at least temporarily.”

His eyes widen slightly at your unexpected honesty. He smiles at the thought of your desires, the idea of satisfying them. He is more than intrigued, though slightly wary of your like for him. He leans toward you again, the distance between you narrowing.

“The feeling is shared. I find myself wanting more than just a one-time encounter with you, princess. But I understand your concerns. If we were to partake in… this,” he gestures between the both of you, “it would have to be kept quiet and discreet.” Paul leaned back, contemplating the situation. While his interest in you is undeniably present, he knows the risks and consequences. 

“I must admit,” he continues, but his eyes linger on your perfectly sensuous lips, “your beauty is unparalleled. However,” he pauses, meeting his eyes with yours once again, “the implications for our respective houses are not to be ignored.” Paul raises his glass of wine to his nose, giving it a swirl as he observes your reaction. “I don’t want you to mistake my actions as mere carnal desire. I have a genuine interest in pursuing a future with you, he admits, awaiting your response.

You find it excruciatingly hard to hold back a smile as he speaks. Happy was an understatement; you were thrilled to know he really wanted more than just a night of pleasure. While listening to his words and weighing your options, you have settled upon a very unique and possibly crazy idea. After a few more moments of thinking and processing, you speak.

“Well, Paul, it enlightens me to know you'd also like this to go further. I want something meaningful with you. But, as you said yourself, there are some possible negative outcomes that could happen between our houses if anyone discovers… this,” you gesture between you and him. “However, I have a solution. An idea, a plan. With some moments of consideration, I have come upon the fact that the one and only way we can pursue a relationship is through political, strategic marriage between our allying houses,” you propose, still putting the pieces together in your head.

“Marriage,” he echoes; the thought has crossed his mind in his moments of talking to you, but he hadn’t expected you to bring it up so quickly, “that is the only way we could pursue something meaningful without causing scandal or upsetting our houses.” He pauses, his mind processing the consequences and possibilities. “Political and strategic marriages are common. However, there are still questions… What about our personal desires? The physical chemistry between us is undeniable,” he whispered, his voice growing more sensuous by the second.

“Our personal desires would most definitely be quenched if we go through with this. Tonight we shall decide if our desires are worthy of being upheld so we can further discover if we would like to keep this a one-time occurrence or a long-term commitment—if you so wish, of course,” you whisper, subconsciously leaning closer to him. With each and every word he had spoken, you found yourself more inclined to touch him. Paul wasn’t stupid like the other men your age at this party. He was well-calculated, incredibly intelligent, and thoughtful. Oh god. Paul Atreides is already making you fall apart without even touching you yet. You quickly decide, before he could respond, to take a mental step back.

“I pray you don’t believe I’m thinking too irrationally; too far ahead…” You add, “I just can’t help but stare into your green eyes and dream,” you admit, much more than you should’ve. You embarrassedly put a hand on your forehead right after the words roll off your tongue so naturally. You feel oddly vulnerable with him, even though you have just truly met him. 

“No, I don’t believe you’re thinking too far ahead,” he reassured you, placing his forearms on the table to lean closer. “Perhaps it’s the wine, or maybe it’s something else,” he admits, his voice softer than ever before. He raises a hand, gently caressing your soft, warm cheek with two long fingers. “I’m also unable to look away from you. There is something about you that I can't ignore, a pull that I can’t resist. I think you know that, princess,” he murmured, using your title in a strangely intimate manner. Your words had wrapped around him like a soft, seductive whisper. He could feel your physical proximity, and it was intoxicating; addictive, like spice. Paul couldn't ignore that; he couldn't shake the thought that he needed you in any way you were willing.

[malvoile]

Me and the Devil ; prelude

ᴀɴ ᴀɴᴄɪᴇɴᴛ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ꜰᴀʟʟꜱ. ᴘᴀᴜʟ ᴀᴛʀᴇɪᴅᴇꜱ ʟᴇᴀʀɴꜱ ʜᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴇᴛʀᴏᴛʜᴇᴅ.

word count: 1.2k warnings: arranged marriage, politics, familial assassination. notes: hii <3 ive decided to revamp and continue this fic from its original [posted on ao3 ]. this is a re-written version of the fic and will be posted regularly while i work on new chapter updates! feedback very much appreciated :) series masterlist

In a shocking show of mercy, the High Council of the Landsraad has decreed the pardon of the last Bourbon:

After a week-long raid on their home planet Sabberon, the House of Bourbon has been declared dissolved; following the Tsarist-Duchal ruling family's sentencing to death at the Harko Arena on Giedi Prime. 

The counter-insurgent attacks enacted by House Harkkonen have been ruled by the High Council as 'Penitent Crimes of Retaliation' following the damning allegations of espionage and theft of Harkonnen technology and intelligence. 

The House of Bourbon is succeeded only by the sole heiress and daughter of the Tsar, whose betrothal to the na-Baron of House Harkonnen has been abruptly terminated by the High Court of the Landsraad.

The daughter, who carries the bloodline of both House Bourbon and House Ginaz, has by decree of the High Council of the Landsraad been pardoned of the Harkkonen sentencing of political imprisonment, and subsequently has been determined not guilty of her accused crimes in association with the Bourbon plot. The case’s arraignment is set for a few months' time. 

As once-standing political allies to the House Atreides, the Lady Bourbon has been decreed to wed to the son of Duke Leto Atreides by the closing of the standard year.  

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

A muffled crash of falling plates rolls through the dampened halls of Castle Caladan; a faint gasp echoing in response, soft rumbling murmurs in their wake. 

Paul does not bat an eye. 

In the corridors behind him, servants pass — they carry with them dishes, plates, crates filled to the brim; Ladies walk by briskly with emerald velvet draped across their arms, returning from the washrooms with dutiful, quiet whispers. 

A celebration has been planned with the news of Duncan’s return. Ceremonial, Paul had been told earlier – an acceptance of the Tsarist-Duchal family in a time of exigency, a welcomed embrace from one Great House to another. But something has changed now — the Housestaff walk with wide eyes and whisper in quiet gulps; the guest wing has remained unprepared, the grounds have not been arranged for a large reception, the cooks have not wrought in more than the usual baskets of crabs and seacatch. Hearths die dim in the absence of tending. 

Something is not how it should be. 

It had just as clearly been written into the faces of those he passed on his way to his father’s study just now; worry, anticipation —  change.

Paul knew there was something wrong when he was woken from his sleep earlier than he usually rises for training — though what followed this dismal morning amidst the onslaught of rainfall was not breakfast, nor training, nor lessons; Merely a request to attend his father's study as soon as possible.

Should there have been any such doubt as to the shift in the air this morning, it would easily have been eliminated by the seal stamped upon the message his father has deposited on the desk in front of him to read: A gleaming, unmistakable seal. The High Council's signet. 

Teardrops pelt the study’s windows in a violent onslaught. Another crash, this time deeper in the bowels of the castle; The world breathes and stirs around him, though he cannot feel it. Instead, Paul Atreides stands, shellshocked in his ceremonial uniform.  

A breath falls almost forgotten from disbelieving lips.

“Married?”

Two solemn faces stare back at Paul. 

"Yes,” his Lady mother affirms, eyes cooled in the wet light of morning dim.  

The shock of his mother's bluntness has never been quite so abnormal before; though in the moment he takes to swallow down the information, his father clears his throat gently, his mother awaits with a steadied spine. The room shortens; a hazy thought lingers in Paul's mind, though he cannot yet taste it. Gurney Halleck, who sits in the corner, absently plucks the strings of the Baliset upon the wall — far too casual, it stirs the pit within Paul's stomach. 

Married.

A far effort to wade through the thickening marsh of his mind. Paul's lips part with a disbelieving huff before he murmurs, "I thought Duncan was returning with Duke Bourbon and his family." Dark brows furrow only the slightest - the fruitful reaping of a lifetime schooling emotions into placidity; a weakened throat constricting as he glances at the message unread before him. "Where is this coming from?" 

His words hang, suspended in a silence as tense as it is regretful; beyond the high-climbing cliffs, the sky cries slowly.

A shift of weight from his father, a sigh deep from his chest. "Their house has fallen. Duncan Idaho returns from Geidi Prime this evening." 

His words come with no such semblance of comfort — the blood drains from Paul's face, his heart thumping into his throat. Duncan returns from Geidi Prime — not the Bourbon's homeplanet, Sabberon.

It is a valiant fight to not sway upon his own feet, a rushing surrealism hitting his mind in a haze: When the Atreides Swordsman had been deployed, there was not even a whisper or a word of marriage — not a single consideration of betrothal, nor of Paul’s involvement whatsoever. 

It was an expedition — to aid an old ally, against the oldest foe that House Atreides has. Paul’s lips purse in the bitter defiance that courses through his veins. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. A foolish thing to think. 

It is slow, the realization that blossoms first as a seed of doubt and soon to a flower of disgust. "I am to be wed to..." His sentence is interrupted by a choking of his own saliva, a vicious turn of reality upon him.

Wed, to one of those monsters from Geidi Prime? The bile that rises in his throat is of disdain, of hatred — he is expected to marry a monster? 

It is not some act of childish dissent; to be a future Duke is to understand from a young age that marriage is not for love, but for the good of the House, of their people. 

Paul has long awaited a future marriage of convenience, of strategy; but to be wed to one of them is an entire new blade of danger. 

"A Harkkonen?" Paul snaps, bitter and sharp as the glare thrown towards his father’s windless visage. And as if only some slight error, some amusement sparks within his father’s gaze; with a slight tilt of the head, Leto Atreides declines the accusation of his son.

"No."

Lips part in a puffing sigh of relief, hidden only by the flaring confusion which wraps around his ribs and nestles itself into his beating heart.

Across the room, a Houseworker sets down a teapot and cups with flickering eyes before scurrying out of the room once more. His father, after a glance to his mother, resumes with a firm tone, soothing over the sheets of rain cascading outside.

"She is not a Harkkonen, Paul,” He insists, “Though she has resided on Giedi Prime for nearly four years. She was, up until yesterday, to be wed to the Baron's nephew." 

There's another silence, in which the rain slides down glass panes like tears.

"–She's one of Idaho's." Halleck delivers the information rather off-handedly, shifting weight in the corner; Paul, in turn, stares at the man previously occupied with tuning the baliset. A fuzzy sensation as he blinks — one of Duncan’s?

Paul's bewilderment must reflect poorly upon his countenance; his father sighs. "Her mother was the eldest child of the House Ginaz. Duncan Idaho trained with her mother and father at the Ginaz Swordmaster School. It's why he insisted on going to Geidi Prime after Sabberon fell — she is now the heiress; the last of the House Bourbon." 

The words soothe only the immediate hackles that a Harkonnen bride brought upon his mind; and although the distrust has begun to slither through his mind, simply Paul nods, clearing his throat. 

"–And as part of the High Council's rulings..." His hand gestures weakly towards the sigil atop the message, resigned to the fate which has been inscribed within its contents. "Now, we will marry." 

A curt nod affirms the dread coiling within his gut; and the string severs with the glance from Gurney. Paul’s cheeks heat, be it the attention or the frustration of such news. His father, knowing well the troubles of a brilliant young mind, has begun to lay out the battlemaps: "We believe it is for the best. She was nothing but a political prisoner." Duke Leto does not need to duck to catch his son's attention - though in a split moment, Paul meets his mother’s eye; within her gaze is that humming feeling, that flicker of knowledge which sets his teeth on edge.

His father continues. "She is still close with her aunt, the Lady Ginaz. If anything changes along our routes following the Referendum, we will need House Ginaz’s allyship."

It's not a horrible plan of action, Paul's mind reminds him. Gurney plucks a wiry string in the corner; the message sits unread before him, mocking his spiteful stare.

The council of Houses Major, choosing to whom he is to marry; what a twisted, thorny fate. Bitterness is a taste unpleasant as any; and it is made worse when his own Lady Mother speaks up. "Paul. The Reverend Mother found it pertinent-" 

But any words she might advise are drowned out by the ringing in his ears, by the words inscribed as he begins to read the message for himself. The ruling is firm — he is to marry you. 

Perhaps his mother speaks on, but all that echoes is your name; a bell, hollow and cracked, chiming into an empty hall. His mother’s reinforcement: You will be a smart pair. It is a good match. 

The string of fate is severed. A seed of suspicion planted through his mother's insistence: you, a girl from a House fallen from grace, protected by the Landsraad court — a good match. Doubt creeps down his spine — Whispers around his mind, a forgotten promise that lingers only when the shores of conscious pull at the fringes of dreams. Bene Gesserit. A spy for Harkonnen ears. All part of some mechanic political stratagem; and he, in the center of it. Paul, actionless, to be wed to a woman who was made for another. 

To be wed to one of the Harkonnen's beasts.

He meets his father's eyes, and they warn him.

 Don't push it. What's done is done.

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[thetriggeredhappy]

I know we’re on spoiler lock down and you can respond at your pace but OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD THIS IS HANDS DOWN THE BEST BIRTHDAY GIFT IVE EVER GOTTEN! HOW IS THIS GOING TO EFFECT YOUR TAKING SHOTS CANON? ARE YOU GOING TO BE WRITING OTHER FICS IN LINE WITH THE FINALE CANON NOW???? Oh my god HOW ARE YOU FEELING?????

yeah i know right! this does mean i’m going to need to go back and edit taking shots a bit to be more canon-compliant, here’s some of my initial notes on it:

fixing scout’s last name to reflect “willis”.

fixing spy’s first and last name to reflect “eugene hinkle”.

adjusting to make room in dialogue for scout being definitively a brunette, as we saw near the end.

a few tweaks to better fill in the implications the comics seem to have for how the respawn system works.

in the same shot we saw the photo of scout and his mom, opposite that we see a picture that i believe is of scout and a doggy—i’ll need to add that into the story somewhere, maybe from his brothers telling a story or something similar.

already word on the street is that some of his kids seem close enough in age to probably be twins, which actually does imply that it’s likely some of his brothers are twins! this is good, but i should really lean in more—maybe more of his nieces are twins?

”willis” is an english name, so i’ll need to slightly adjust some backstory to make them english-catholic or perhaps protestant, not irish-catholic.

obviously i’ll need to adjust to include the address of the house and a better approximate location, as well as adjust all timings mentioned to account for the correct distance and travel times.

scout seems to be big on rushing into marriages, so i’ll most likely need to rework the fic slightly to include a proposal within the first chapter or two.

since sniper knows how to fly a plane, it makes sense that they would probably just fly to boston rather than road-tripping, which means i’ll need to edit out most instances of driving that sniper does.

obviously, spy hadn’t come clean about being scout’s father, so i imagine that he probably never will, and instead that entire storyline will pivot, instead being about something else, perhaps that spy wants to romance and marry his ma, who he met some five or six years previously.

since there is apparently some kind of indoor public pool in the area they live in, all scenes outside of the home will be moved to take place in that pool.

it seems like sniper’s reaction to scout’s rambling to miss pauling about his courting would imply he is aware of scout’s crush, so the story and dialogue will be altered to instead have sniper suggest they be a throuple of some kind. this will lead to complications in which Benny and Terry are irritated that they’re being copied so blatantly.

speaking of which, scout gave two of his kids names that start with “t”, which to me implies they perhaps have some kind of naming convention in their family involving repeating first consonants. to reflect this, some of scout’s brothers will be renamed, meaning his brothers (oldest to youngest) will be named Jack, Jenry, Jarcher (Jarchie for short), Jolin, Jenjamin and Jerrence (Jenny and Jerry for short), and Jony.

while going over these changes, i realized that i’d completely forgotten to account for spy’s cyanide tooth, and written a moment where he’s gritting his teeth. unfortunately, that means that in my rewrite, spy will need to die during that scene when the cyanide tooth most certainly pops mistakenly. this will be inconvenient, but a gifted writer knows how to play with the cards dealt.

since unfortunately we now know that scout is terrible at marriage, i will most likely need to write a scene where scout finds out he is pregnant and sniper immediately leaves him. i find this difficult because i’m unsure how sniper will be able to get into a plane quickly enough to escape in the pre-established suburb, but i will make do.

i will have to kill scout’s mom.

oh and happy belated birthday!

[bambi-kinos]

Thank you so much for replying to my ask! Sorry for the long reply back but I just love discussing these two.

Yes the rock and roll lifestyle and Paul’s infamous cheating before Linda has me very sceptical about him being 100% faithful to Linda too. That Jane Asher story is insane! The idea of Wings being a way to keep an eye on it is very interesting and not implausible at all. However in my opinion, Linda gives me the impression of someone with a strong sense of self, who would decide to walk instead of being disrespected in that way.

I also find it strange that decades and decades on, no one has said anything other than Paul being absolutely devoted to Linda. Not even anonymously, someone who doesn’t like Paul could seriously hurt his reputation spilling that information, not to mention the potential money, fame from it ect. This goes hand in hand with having a sexual relationship with John. I mean, surely they couldn’t have hidden it from everyone. Some people must of known, and not just an inner circle of loyal friends. Take tour managers or hotel staff for example.

So why do you think nothing has come out all these years later?

What comes to mind is the phone call Paul had with a biographer very soon after John’s death (I’m sorry I’ve forgotten his exact name) where he secretly recorded all he said and later published it. (Ouch!) Paul’s completely baffled at Yoko’s statement that no one had hurt John more than Paul had. (Said by John himself)

If they had a sexual, emotionally intense relationship, wouldn’t Paul have known that it was this John was referring too? He comes across as very smart, surely he could have put the dots together? His bewilderment seems completely sincere, not a pr trick. What’s your opinion?

I honestly go back and forth on this because I can see a relationship between those two being way more than just platonic. On and off hook ups in the 70s amongst the angst could also explain John’s sporadic comments about Paul throughout this decade. One day praising him, the other cursing him. Both parties not being brave enough (and a whole host of other factors) to not commit or acknowledge what was going on fully would have been very confusing to say the least.

But I still can’t get my head around the points I made earlier that counter this argument. Would love to hear your take on things!

EXTREMELY based ask anon, your mind is very sharp and I love it!

okayyyy there's a lot here so let's take it bit by bit

However in my opinion, Linda gives me the impression of someone with a strong sense of self, who would decide to walk instead of being disrespected in that way.

If we're anywhere close to the ballpark then Linda nearly called off the wedding when Paul told her about him and John. But then after that, she would chaperone Paul when he went to see John and hang out with him like when they went to LA. It's hard to say what Linda would or wouldn't stand for IMO because she saw the real Paul, all of him, and stuck that out for over twenty years.

I don't think that Linda would be okay with Paul cheating on her necessarily but I wouldn't write off her pretending not to see when he was sneaking out under her nose. It's not the same thing as having an open relationship but she and Paul had agreed to try for Mary sometime in 1968 before she knew about him and John and witnessed the messy break up. She doesn't strike me as the vindictive type so I wonder if knowing she was pregnant and wanting her kid to know who her father was played any role in her decision. And Linda purportedly didn't like the idea of getting married again according to a quote floating around here -- Paul had to convince her it was a good idea, not the other way around. There's reason to believe that Linda may have been happy just being a common law couple or whatever the UK's equivalent is and that Paul insisted on getting married.

I'm not saying definitively one way or another, Linda is much more opaque than Paul. But I'm hesitant to say that she wouldn't tolerate cheating or she wouldn't look the other way on it, because why else did she let Paul visit John so much otherwise? She knew what was going on.

Just something to think about I guess.

I also find it strange that decades and decades on, no one has said anything other than Paul being absolutely devoted to Linda. Not even anonymously, someone who doesn’t like Paul could seriously hurt his reputation spilling that information, not to mention the potential money, fame from it ect. This goes hand in hand with having a sexual relationship with John. I mean, surely they couldn’t have hidden it from everyone. Some people must of known, and not just an inner circle of loyal friends. Take tour managers or hotel staff for example.

So why do you think nothing has come out all these years later?

The biggest reason is that The Beatles worked very hard as a unit to cover up their infidelities. Paul was two paternity accusations lodged against him, one was the German girl and the other was Liverpool girl. Blood tests proved that both of these paternity claims were false (and Anita later admitted that she had a second boyfriend concurrent to Paul at the time, she just didn't think he was actually the dad until her son spilled the beans that Paul's paternity test proved false.) Despite these two paternity suits being lodged against Paul, he still paid the girls hush money through Brian. There's another story of a paternity claim being lodged against John that Brian paid to go away. The hookers they engaged with in the hotels were also paid for their time and to not launch any paternity suits against The Beatles. And so on.

The most encompassing answer is simply that Paul and the other Beatles paid off their babymamas AND that they have lots of legal representation on their side to make offers that can't be refused. I have long thought that the sudden muzzling of Heather Mills was the result of a super injunction, a feature of British law where a person with enough money and influence can forcibly shut someone up. A super injunction is, to put it mildly, a massive pain in the ass to obtain yet Paul is well positioned to have used one to make her shut her mouth and stop libeling him in the press. If Paul is ruthless enough to use something like that against his ex wife and mother to his child then he is absolutely willing to turn it on lays from the 1960s and 1970s. Most of the time I would bet he does not have to; we all have a price and for a sufficient amount of money, I wouldn't bother Paul with a paternity suit either.

Then there's just love and personal loyalty. The Beatles inspire incredible loyalty in their fans and their hook ups. Peggy Lipton went completely insane for Paul after meeting him only a handful of times including showing up at his hotel in a swimsuit hoping to be taken on Paul's Dirty Weekend with Linda. Now imagine that loyalty in a 19 year old girl who hooked up with Paul during 1966. Why would she say shit to anyone about having sex with Paul or getting pregnant by him? She would absolutely feel inspired to protect him. I think this would be just as true in 1976, the loyalty that the boys inspired in their fans is remarkable.

And think about it: if you had slept with one of the Beatles, would you out him to anyone? Or would you keep it a secret? Think carefully about it. By outing him, you are also outing yourself. Especially if Paul was married at the time. Do you want to admit you're complicit in Paul McCartney's adultery? That sounds like a very unpleasant prospect to me and besides, you want to keep a little piece of him to yourself.

Tour managers and hotel staff likely suspected something but it was truly a whirlwind for them too and I think a lot of them just second guess what they know. Homosexual activity was completely unthinkable and virtually unknown in the 60s and 70s. The only people who would truly know is the housekeeping staff. They would see the telltale signs of who slept where and what they were doing; those room manifests don't tell us shit because we can be sure that the boys swapped beds and rooms all the time depending on what they wanted. For John and Paul especially, I imagine there was a lot of wandering in the night and seeking each other out.

Take that story of Ringo disappearing during the 1964 tour to go on a joyride with a police man with Paul waking up and alerting Mal and Neil that he was gone. Why was Paul awake in the night? Why didn't he just go ask John and George where Ringo was first thing? Surely if your third band member goes missing your first instinct would be to ask the other two if they've seen him but instead Paul, for some reason, seems to have known immediately that Ringo was not with John and George in their hotel room and promptly tattled to the roadies. This is despite the room set up which was supposed to be Paul/Ringo and George/John. Hm!

Only housekeeping would know the truth of the situation and those men and women are dead or lost in the crowd. However even then we don't have reason to think they had proof: John and Paul being intimate would only leave behind the remains of...sex. And the truth is that The Beatles liked having sex with girls while they were in the same room together, including switching. What reason was there to think that it was just two guys boning instead of two guys and two girls?

What I'm driving at is that tour managers and hotel staff and housekeeping servicewomen had a lot of circumstantial evidence but unless they caught John and Paul in the act, then they had no reason to understand what they were seeing. Anyone who did catch them would have been paid off with the brown paper bag money Brian picked up from the bootleg merch vendors that sold fanmerch outside their concerts. And if that failed then yes legal action would have been launched through Capitol's legal arm because Capitol had plenty of superstars before The Beatles that had to be managed. They knew the drill, they weren't angels. Managing sex addicts and homosexual activity was business as usual for a suit even in 1964. They wouldn't want to scuttle that secret either because if Paul throws a fit and buys out his song catalogue then it's good night Felicia.

So in between those three things -- personal loyalty, bribes, and the threat of legal action especially since Paul has rich boy privileges -- no one is saying shit. Not any of the groupies, none of the women Paul was probably hanging out with while married, no one who ever caught him with John. It's just not worth it.

What comes to mind is the phone call Paul had with a biographer very soon after John’s death (I’m sorry I’ve forgotten his exact name) where he secretly recorded all he said and later published it. (Ouch!) Paul’s completely baffled at Yoko’s statement that no one had hurt John more than Paul had. (Said by John himself)

If they had a sexual, emotionally intense relationship, wouldn’t Paul have known that it was this John was referring too? He comes across as very smart, surely he could have put the dots together? His bewilderment seems completely sincere, not a pr trick. What’s your opinion?

Hunter Davies. The phone call with Hunter Davies is very interesting because he was someone Paul knew...but otoh he's still a reporter. Paul knows that. Hearing more about the Lennon McCartney feud soon after John's death was a hot story so could Paul reasonably assume that Hunter would write up the story.

I posit that Paul, in an act of true cynicism and spite towards Yoko, deliberately leaked some of his issues with John in order to spit in Yoko's eye. Especially with that pointed line about how he knows things about John that Yoko never knew...and that he won't publish them until after she is dead. You want to talk about ouch?!

I think that Paul is being genuine when he's confused about how he could have hurt John which makes me think @menlove is right and that India may have been a nothingburger or didn't feature Paul getting cold feet about John.

There are a couple of candidates for "John said no one hurt him like Paul did." We'll probably never know what they are but these are my personal options:

John asked for a relationship with Paul in India; Paul did something John interpreted as a rejection especially in light of Paul self destructing and John going on a multi-day bender when he got home.

Paul suddenly bringing Linda into the limo during the New York City trip to promote Apple. John seems genuinely baffled and confused about this with the "and next thing I know she's married to him" line. It was completely out of left field and John was caught by surprise.

Paul getting the drop on John with regards to announcing the Beatles break up. John expressed bitterness about this (because it was a ploy to force Paul to stay with him, Paul wasn't actually supposed to follow through with it) because it humiliated him publicly.

John was still hung up on the Family Way score and was destroyed by that and by Paul going "fuck it we'll do it live" and recording so much stuff solo for the White Album.

You may have spotted a problem with this already: there are multiple instances where Paul could have profoundly hurt John that would linger in John's memory. How can you possibly choose just one?

What if it was all of these and that eventually the hurt and abandonment mounted and John couldn't take it anymore?

Ultimately though I think Paul is/was confused and angry because the narrative was all about how Paul hurt John, and nothing about how John hurt Paul, another thing Paul brought up with Hunter during the interview. If John was pissy about Paul announcing the break up first, then why was no attention paid to John announcing "I want a divorce"? Why is it so important to sweep John being a dickhead under the rug? I think that's what had Paul so confused and pissed off, to the point that he couldn't really pinpoint one single thing that could have hurt John. 'Are you serious, I hurt him when he's the one who abandoned me multiple times through out our relationship and never apologized for any of it?' That would piss me off monumentally if I were Paul, I'd deny all knowledge of hurting John too since he refused to own up to hurting Paul in the first place.

I honestly go back and forth on this because I can see a relationship between those two being way more than just platonic. On and off hook ups in the 70s amongst the angst could also explain John’s sporadic comments about Paul throughout this decade. One day praising him, the other cursing him. Both parties not being brave enough (and a whole host of other factors) to not commit or acknowledge what was going on fully would have been very confusing to say the least.

That's pretty much it. Keeping in mind that Yoko kept John hooked on drugs to keep him from making up with Paul as well.

I think the confusion and frustration Paul expressed/expresses is a byproduct of the fog of war. He's too close to the subject matter, he can't figure it out because he can't see the big picture.

[marvelmaniac715]

Okay, but let’s talk about Tim Houston:

This little boy lost his mother in a tragic accident a year before Black Friday takes place, presumably not long after Christmas. His father, unable to cope with his grief and blaming himself for his mother’s death, is now emotionally withdrawn and doesn’t listen to what Tim actually wants. When he thinks that his father is going out on Black Friday to get a new blade for his bandsaw, he is slightly frustrated, but not overly shocked. He is nine, and this disappointment is not new to him. Yet, when things kick off at the mall, he insists on Paul and Emma taking him to his dad so that the two of them can be reunited. That’s when Hatchetfield is nuked. Tim Houston dies alone, in his car (probably the same car his mother died in, or one bought soon after that happened) waiting for the arrival of a father who will never come to save him. That is the true tragedy of Black Friday, in my opinion. There is a whole song in Black Friday about Tom being willing to get whatever Tim wants, and another where he vows to make up for his failings towards him. But in ‘If I Fail You’, the entire basis of their dynamic is summed up in one line: “Where’s Tim?” Tim is forgotten, a mere afterthought once Wiggly threatens Hatchetfield… this poor, poor child…

[violettavonviolet]

Percy Jackson fic rec's

All fics are finished and amazing! The word count goes up as it goes, all fics are completed, I've added the ships and ratings but do make sure to read the tags!

Fic's marked with a star haven't left my brain since I read them

Deep Sea Fury

HumbleservantofHypnos

Summary:

Someone stabbed Tyson’s eye, and Percy is unable to stop himself from going unhinged.

Nemesis had talked to him, whispered in his ear that the rule should be the same for everyone. An eye for an eye.

1.8k gen

Percy's Questers' Quests

WardofWinters (QoLife)

Summary:

Hi! I’m Percy of Questers Quests, where all Quests are dedicated to Kronos the Titan of Time, what can I do for you today? Mhm, okay, I understand, yeah we can do that, do you have any questions? -oh why do we dedicate our Quests to Kronos? Well, that’s because I’m sick and tired of my relatives harassing me. Anyways! We’ll have that Quest done for you by the end of the week, thank you for your business!

3.5k Genfic

Blood in the Wine *

mrthology

Summary:

“It’s a good thing that father of yours is so protective of you,” Dionysus said, joining the demigod on the beach the next night, looking cautiously out to the lapping waves to gauge his uncle’s mood.

The demigod blinked, eyes bright despite the lack of light.

Dionysus ignored his surprise and studied the demigod carefully, noting the faint hint of gold exuding from his skin.

Ah. Well then.

He could remember noting the same sheen to his own skin millennia ago now. Jackson was on the precipice of something, and only time would tell if it were madness or greatness.

——

Percy’s on the edge of something. Dionysus notices, even if Percy doesn’t want him (or anyone) to.

4.5k Percy/Dionysus

A Godly Quest

CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Summary:

Paul is like… eighty percent sure that some of Percy’s so-called "quests" are all one big hoax. He isn’t able to prove it until he goes to Taco Bell at three in the morning.

5k gen

Sand Dollar Child

withay

Summary:

There's far too much divinity in Percy Jackson. It oozes from him, to the point where he's sometimes mistaken for Poseidon. Percy doesn't know this yet. All he knows is that this nereid is asking to borrow five drachmas.

6.4k percabeth gen

Of All That Breathe and Crawl Across the Earth

mrthology

Summary:

"All of you demigods are bred for war, for me," Ares said. "That's just a fact of life." He took another drag of his cigar, then snuffed it out on the bricks near Jackson's ear. "You're chess pieces to move as we want, and nothing more."

Jackson laughed, his voice echoing in the small alleyway in a way no mortals should. "I'm surprised you even know what chess is," he snapped. He grinned, all sharp teeth and eyes that saw far too much. "I thought that was more Athena's area. You're just carnage."

Ares tightened his grip, wanting to see the boy squirm. Jackson reminded him of someone from millennia past, a Hero still loved by the ages. Ares wished he could place who.

—

Ares takes notice of Percy Jackson. Even he isn't sure if it's a good thing, not when his very presence seems to bring back memories of things best left forgotten.

8k ares/percy mature

I know the end

Ghxst_Bird

Summary:

Ever since Tartarus there’s been something… strange about Percy. They all know it, they’ve all seen it. Obviously the gods know about it, too, but they’re about as helpful about it as Charybdis in a swimming pool.

Nico just hopes Percy will stop glaring at everyone who looks at Nico or Jason the wrong way… and preferably tell his godly relatives to not threaten doom on them all every time Percy so much as scrapes his knee.

8.3k genfic, percy&nico&jason

Get Under Your Skin Just Like A Bomb That's Ready To Blow

ashilrak

Summary:

“That was a mistake,” Ares says, walking beside him. “You’re not one to abandon your post. This is going to eat at you.”

Just like every other time he’s spoken with Ares, Percy is vibrating with anger. How dare Ares tell him what’s best for him. At his sides, he tightens his hands into fists tight enough he’s sure he’s drawn blood.

“What’s it to you?” he spits out.

“You’ve got war in your heart, boy,” Ares says. Percy can’t see his eyes because of his sunglasses, but he’s sure they’re glowing red like charcoal. “I can taste it.”

—

Or: Percy's struggling without a war looming over him, and who better to help him find his purpose than the God of War?

9k Ares/Percy explicit

What’s in a Name?

anxious_tofu

Summary:

Percy didn’t realize at the time that when his boyfriend came up to him one Friday afternoon with his coffee order in hand and a nervous grin on his face it was the beginning of the end. 

After six months of dating, Apollo brings Percy to meet his family. This proves to be a mistake.

-----

All human/meet the family AU. Crack taken too seriously/ attempt at humor.

10.2k perpollo teen

The Burden of Our Mortal Misery *

mrthology

Summary:

“Get up,” Dionysus ordered.

Percy ignored him. As they always did, memories of Tartarus crept back, a hold on him that never quite left. Falling, falling, falling. Always falling, never quite clawing his way back to the surface.

Dionysus hauled him to his feet, hands a burning brand.

Percy panted and met his eyes, barely able to stand under the force of the god's divinity. He wondered if this was what people meant when they talked about the myths, why people loved and worshipped the gods and feared them in turn. Percy had never seen them as people to revere and love. They were cruel; petty. They had done nothing but treat Percy like a pawn in their schemes, then thrown him to the proverbial wolves once they’d been done with him.

But he thought he was beginning to understand. He felt tiny before Dionysus, insignificant. It was more of a comfort than Percy wanted to admit.

“What’s happening to me?”

—

Percy had left something of himself down in Tartarus, and he didn’t think he’d ever get it back. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

12k Percy/Dionysus teen

The Drowned God

robindrake93

Summary:

It's Hermes job to summon all of the gods to the summer solstice meeting...and that includes the newest one: Percy Jackson. From that moment on, Percy's life changes forever. Again.

17k Percy/Hermes mature

Walking Backward Into My Own Myth

mrthology

Summary:

"You should have ascended years ago," Zeus said without preamble, looking down at Percy. The other Olympians, even his father, remained silent, watching the proceedings with uncharacteristic solemnity.

"I said no years ago," Percy snapped, rage making his voice tremble and hands shake. "I didn't want to be a God then, and I want to even less now. I've seen how horrible eternity is."

"You would defy the fates themselves?" Athena asked softly, leaning forwards with narrowed eyes. She looked more godly than Percy had ever seen her, to the point where it was nearly unbearable to look at her face. Percy did so nevertheless, glaring at the Goddess he'd lost almost all respect for.

"You had children die today," he snapped, desperate to return to Camp. "Annabeth could still die—hasn't she done enough?"

———

Or, Percy keeps living the same horrible day over and over and over again, regardless of what he does. Eventually, something will have to give. Percy just isn't sure what.

19k  gen

Until you break, until you yield

Sappho_of_Space

Summary:

Despite everything that Percy did for the gods, he was still being used as a pawn. When an opportunity arises that Zeus can't ignore, Apollo will stop at nothing for his lover to return to his arms.

If people die in the process, that's not his problem.

27.4k Perpollo

Set in Stone *

CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Summary:

“Find Medusa?” Percy spluttered, trying and failing not to sound indignant. “Nobody wants to find Medusa. You run into Medusa while trying to retrieve your uncle’s stolen lightning bolt and then mail her head to the gods after she keeps talking about how your eyes are like your father’s.”

From behind him, Piper raised a single finger. “When you mail what to whom?”

Percy glanced over his shoulder to give her a shrug. “Don’t worry about it. I was twelve,” he said before turning back to where Gabe was still fighting against the ropes binding his hands together. “Do you have any idea what to do with him?”

Nico leaned over, craning his neck to better peer at the hot sauce that still stained Gabe’s face despite the years of statue-ification. “Um, we could see if your dad wants to turn him into a fish or something?”

Percy grimaced. If Gabe Ugliano was a fish, then he’d be forced to hear the man’s voice in his head for years to come. But also, he could maybe mount him on a wall, so perhaps it wasn’t an entirely terrible idea.

Or

Medusa’s sculptures are mysteriously coming back to life. Percy doesn’t think murder is an unreasonable action given the circumstances.

38k gen abuse via Gabe

Fishing in Alaska *

CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Summary:

“This… this would qualify as a mental breakdown, right?” Triton asked, frowning over his shoulder to where Percy was still fuming in the corner. The lady at the counter curiously glanced over before lifting a questioning brow. “My brother – half-brother, technically, I have much better breeding – decided to run away from home to where our father can’t reach him and now he won’t leave. And now I can’t leave unless he leaves,” Triton continued. Percy opened his mouth to object that wasn’t what happened at all, but the tyrant only waved a hand to silence him. “He’s seen war or whatever, so if you could maybe just drug him then I’ll throw him into a suitcase and we can be out of here by the Summer Solstice!”

Silence. Finally, the woman cleared her throat and turned to Percy.

“I’m guessing he’s the one you want checked into the mental hospital?” She asked. Triton gasped as Percy punched the air in victory.

“Aha!”

Or

Getting in trouble works a little differently when your parent is an all-powerful god. Sometimes you have to escape to the land beyond gods and get your immortal brother turned human to drag you back so you can be exploded a million pieces. You know, normal teenage stuff.

112k gen Percy&Triton

The Hero Unsung

SomePsychopomp

Summary:

“Oh gods,” Percy thought, “I got fucking isekai’ed.”

---

Thrown back in time and tossed onto the scorching shores of ancient Greece, Percy becomes the unwilling center of attention for an entire army. One destined to sail for Troy and wage a ten year war. If only they could appease the gods keeping them far from their destination first…

Meanwhile, Percy will have to make allies fast while navigating a pantheon of deities who have not yet been tempered by time. Because here, it’s not just the kings who have taken a terrible interest in him; Percy will soon learn just how painful the attention of a god can really be.

135k percy/achilles/patroculus

HAUNT ME, THEN— *

ashilrak, mrthology

Summary:

Percy collapsed once he reached the porch and looked up to a rickety ceiling fan. A moth darted around the light, drawing his attention. It was easier to focus on it than on what had happened. His mom, the strange recollections that dogged the edges of his memory, Grover, everything.

A stern and familiar man looked down at him, concern and apprehension written across his face.

“Hello, Kassandra.”

———

Or, when Apollo cursed Kassandra before the Trojan War, it didn’t go as planned. Now, millennia later, Apollo and Kassandra are still stuck in an endless cycle of death and rebirth. Percy Jackson doesn’t know why people keep calling him Kassandra, or why he’s plagued by memories; all he knows is that he didn’t want to be a demigod.

270k perpollo & Percy& Will