#paul atreides hurt/comfort

[crescenthistory]

in the silence, there is an us

Pairing: Paul Atreides x Reader

Summary: Throughout their lives, Paul and reader have often found themselves in each other's bed. Childish games after bedtime, late-night studying sessions, nightmares, and a burning need to not be apart.

Part of Paul's point of view can be read here: "you are my favourite silence"

Words: 7.2k

Warnings: not proofread, possibly some inaccuracies about plot details (have not watched dune in ages, i'm just obsessed with paul), best friends to lover, tension, light angst, jessica being a bit rude, reader being an orphan and of a lower social rank, duke leto's death (rip), lots of cuddles and lingering touches, fluff, the whole deal

***

The grand halls of Castle Caladan always had an eerie stillness after sunset. The select servants walked quietly, the sound of waves crashing below barely made its way through the stone walls, and the Duke and Lady Jessica kept to their quarters. For Paul and you, though, this was the perfect time to sneak past the sternness of bedtime. The day never seems long enough for young children whose eyes are still filled with stars.

“Come on!” Paul’s whisper was loud, almost too loud for sneaking around, but you didn’t think long enough to care. The thrill of the game was enough to make both of your hearts race. You were barefoot, your steps making soft thuds against the cool floor as you tiptoed through the hall toward his room.

“If we get caught—” you whispered, but Paul cut you off with a grin.

“We won’t. Besides, who can stop us?”

You rolled your eyes at his cocky confidence. He wasn’t wrong, though. You had never been good at staying still, at obeying the invisible rules set up by adults. With no living relatives to share your name, Paul was more than just a best friend – he was all you had. Him and Duke Leto, whose unwavering sense of duty made him take you in at the Castle when your parents died on a mission he orchestrated. Responsibility above all else, all the qualities he aimed at instilling in his young son. And it couldn’t hurt Paul to have a friend his own age, could it? 

You slipped into his room, both of you giggling like you’d just played the best prank on his sleeping parents. His bed was huge for a 7-year-old, more space than one boy could ever need regardless of his nobility. Tonight, it was your playground, stretching for miles.

Paul scrambled up first, then turned and offered you his hand. “Bet you I can jump higher than you,” he said, a challenge clear in his eyes.

You took his hand, pulling yourself up and laughing as the two of you bounced on the mattress, trying to outdo each other in height and bravery. You weren’t worried about waking anyone. Even if Duke Leto found you – and he often did – his stern reprimands were laced with amusement.

This was not the first time the two children had snuck into each other’s rooms after dark, the activity becoming more habit than occasion. Nights like this were your shared rebellion, a refusal to let the day end just because the sun had gone down, just because Jessica had tucked Paul into bed an hour earlier for bedtime.

Eventually, after you had worn yourselves out, you collapsed side by side on the bed, your breaths heavy from laughter. You stared up at the ceiling, still giggling as the adrenaline began to fade.

“I don’t want it to be bedtime ever again,” Paul said, his voice soft, almost wistful.

You turned your head to look at him, sprawled out on the massive mattress, dark hair in his eyes that reflected the dim moonlight streaming through the window. You understood exactly what he meant.

“Me neither,” you replied with a smile. Your hand found his under the covers.

Neither of you moved as your true bedtime took over, the quiet settling in around you, comfortable and warm. You fell asleep like that, fingers intertwined, with no concept of what it meant to have boundaries. There was just Paul, and you, and the night that was never long enough.

  ***

In the wake of your early teens at the castle, sneaking into each other’s rooms had become less about rebellion and more about comfort. The innocence of bouncing on beds and stifled laughter gave way to whispered conversations in the dark and the shared weight of fears neither of you quite understood yet.

The first time Paul came to your room because of a nightmare, it startled you. You were just about to drift off when you heard the soft creak of your door, followed by the quiet patter of feet. You jerked up from the mess of blankets, blinking into the darkness. Confusion and perhaps a bit of fear grasped you, until you saw his silhouette standing near the edge of your bed.

“Paul?” you whispered, straightening up. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer at first, he didn’t know how. With his tense expression and shadows playing across his face, he looked haunted despite his still small, boy-like frame. You knew him in and out by now, and could clearly read the signs of his nails digging into the skin of his fingers, breathing shallow and uneven. 

“Can I stay?” His voice was rougher than usual, like he was barely holding it together.

“Of course.”

You didn’t ask any questions, it was a silent understanding. Instead, you lifted the blanket, making room for him. He crawled in without hesitation, laying his head on the pillow on your left. His body rigid beside yours for a moment before he relaxed, the tension slowly draining away.

Lying there, you listened to the sound of his breathing steadying, feeling the warmth of his presence next to you, arm against arm. It was quiet, but not silent – the kind of quiet that only existed when you knew someone else was there with you. Someone who understood. Someone who would never judge you for being afraid.

In his newfound safety, Paul drifted off easier than he could in his own bed. Yours was significantly smaller, but somehow softer, and he could actually feel the weight of you beside him on the mattress. He could ground himself in your presence. When he fell asleep, his head fell slightly to the side, his hair brushing against your cheek. 

You, on the other hand, stayed awake a little longer, staring up at the ceiling, your thoughts racing. 

You’d always been each other’s rock, but now, something was different. The comfort you found in his presence was deeper, more profound. It wasn’t just about not wanting to be alone anymore, it was about needing him specifically. It brought a smile to your face to know that he found that same assurance in you.

***

The weights on your shoulders materialised and became clearer as you grew beside each other. At sixteen, the favours Duke Leto had bestowed upon you by allowing you residence and education at Caladan felt like a debt more than a blessing. One you had to repay through excellence, through true devotion to any and all training given to you. While Paul tried to seem more lighthearted about it all, it could be felt in the air all the same. You were no longer just two children sneaking around a castle that seemed to never end. You were a future duke and a noblewoman-in-training, navigating a world that seemed to have its eyes on you at every moment.

To earn your gifted title and position and prove yourself worthy of your place as Paul’s friend, you poured over every textbook your teachers assigned you. The study of Caladan, of politics, traditions and customs occupied your mind to the extent that you neglected the occupant of your heart. 

Yet, at late hours, it was always Paul’s bedroom floor the pair found themselves splayed across. 

Sheets of notes, pens and books layed on top of themselves in a system neither of you could have been able to explain to an outsider. Paul against the wall with his notebook, you stomach-down on the carpet, nose buried between the words in your textbook.

“You’re going to wear yourself out.” Paul’s words were muttered, watching you through tired eyes.

You shook your head. “I’m fine. Just one more chapter.”

“You said that an hour ago.”

“I mean it this time.”

Paul didn’t argue, but you could feel his eyes on you as you worked, his presence a quiet comfort beside you. It had become routine, the two of you studying together, you claimed you worked better that way. Paul occasionally asking questions while you tried to focus on your own work but more often than not, you ended up helping him instead of yourself.

Your one-more-chapter became two more as you tried to retain the information, but your eyelids grew heavier, your focus slipping. The same sentence became burned into your retinas without making much more sense.

Ever so slowly, your head was brought closer and closer to the ink. Eventually it was all you could see before your cheek hit the page – you were out as a light.

Paul watched you for a moment, a soft smile playing on his lips. This was not the first time. He closed his own book and moved quietly to your side. He brought a finger up to brush some of your hair out of your face before he rolled you over. Gently, he lifted you, careful not to wake you as he carried you to the bed. His bed.

It had almost become part of the routine, he watches you exhaust yourself and then ensures you get the rest you deserve. He had done this before, but each time, it made his chest tighten more in ways he didn’t fully understand.

As he laid you down delicately, he hesitated by your side for just a moment, watching the rise and fall of your chest, the peaceful expression on your face. He didn’t realise how often he found himself staring at you like this, wondering when the girl who used to be his playmate had become someone he couldn’t stop thinking about. Someone he wanted to protect, to keep close, even as you worked yourself to the bone. He wanted to tell you you didn’t have to, that he knew and that you were enough. Instead, he let his instinct win and lightly caressed the soft flesh of your arm.

After a brief pause, Paul pulled the covers over you and sat on your edge of the bed for a while longer. He was tired himself, but he didn’t want to move. Not just yet.

***

The past few months felt as if they stretched on for years with how much change and development you were faced with, almost forcefully. Despite your efforts, the older you got, the more you felt like a young girl attempting to parade as a grown woman ready for whatever duties Duke Leto sees fit of you, as a “noblewoman” without any true blood given nobility. 

Paul had been dancing around your worries for a while now, cutting off your worried rants with funny quips and dragging you from the library or training room to the beach when he believed you too worrisome. However, his duties were catching up to him as well, even when he tried to balance on the beam with you. He would be a duke one day, and though he had acted like a prince all his life, this was much more real.

His duties were specifically catching up to him in the form of one Lady Jessica. Reminders, comments, requests to his teachers and staff. She wanted him to start becoming the man he needs to be.

One of her lectures was playing out before your eyes in the library, though it escaped you how it even began. The soft, rhythmic drumming of the rain against the high windows felt like the one thing tethering you this world as she spoke, shadows cast across her face. 

Lady Jessica’s voice sliced through the rain, calm but pointed. Leaving the air around you feeling heavy. You sat at a table beside Paul, as she stood above you, a judge passing through your reading session. Her sharp eyes, blue within blue, never seemed to miss anything.

She had always watched you carefully, ever since you were children – though it wasn’t until recently that you noticed how her gaze lingered on you. Emotion indecipherable, yet somehow your stomach seared from it. She was assessing you on criteria it felt you had no control over. 

“You’re both approaching the age where things will change,” Jessica said, her gaze flicking between you and Paul. Her tone was deceptively gentle, like the calm before a storm. “You can no longer afford to be... careless.”

There was a long pause, a silence that felt charged with unspoken meaning. Paul shifted beside you, and though you didn’t look at him, you could feel the tension in the way he carried himself, alert, almost defensive.

“I’m not just speaking about duties to the House or the formalities expected of you as you come of age.” Lady Jessica’s eyes rested on you, sharp and assessing. “I’m also speaking about the way you conduct yourselves in your personal relationships.”

Your heart stuttered at the implication, warmth creeping up the back of your neck. You did not wish to dig into the meaning behind her words.

This was not the first time she’d given such a lecture, but it was the first time it felt so personal. So aimed. It was understood she must be referring to the hours upon hours you spent together, including in the moonlight. The quiet moments where you and Paul sought each other out, clinging to your comfort when the world felt too heavy to bear alone.

It was never intended to be anything inappropriate. You were each other’s safety nets, just like you had always been. But still, you felt a pang of shame coil in your chest at the thought of it being seen that way.

“You have been given responsibilities that go beyond your own desires,” Jessica continued, turning slightly toward Paul. “You are the heir to the House of Atreides, Paul. Every decision you make now, every relationship you allow to develop, can impact that legacy.”

Paul’s jaw clenched, and for the first time, you risked a glance at him. His face was unreadable, but the tension in his posture betrayed his discomfort. His eyes flicked to you, worry clouding them more than annoyance at his mother’s words. He searched your face for something, and did not seem happy with what he saw, but you ripped your gaze away a mere second after.

He was not thinking about his legacy. In that moment, all he thought about was you and how you were feeling.

Your stomach twisted, and the weight of it all – the difference in your status, the expectations that shadowed both your lives – seemed too much. Lady Jessica was not wrong, and Gods did you hate it. You glanced down, willing the words to settle somewhere far away, somewhere that wouldn’t hurt so much.

“You must understand,” Jessica said, her voice softer now, but no less firm, “the time for childish games is over. It’s time for both of you to take your roles more seriously. The future will not wait for you to be ready.”

The words hit you harder than they should have, like a reprimand for something you had not yet done but already felt guilty about. You wanted to say something, anything to show that you understood, that you weren’t some distraction pulling Paul away from his responsibilities, but the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you nodded stiffly, keeping your eyes trained on the floor.

Jessica gave a tight-lipped smile you did not see, before turning around to take her leave, pleased with the efficiency of your talk. She was gone, her robes whispering against the stone floor as she left you alone with the silence she had created between you two.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The weight of Jessica’s words still hung heavy in the room, thickening the air between you. You could feel Paul’s gaze on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, not yet.

“She didn’t mean it like that,” Paul finally said, his voice low and careful, like he was testing the waters.

When you did not respond, Paul let out a soft sigh, moving his body towards you. “She’s just worried. That’s all. My mother—”

“Your mother is always worried,” you cut in, more sharply than you intended. You could feel the weight of it all pressing down on you. The constant reminders of how you didn’t quite fit into this world of nobility and politics, how your presence was tolerated but not truly embraced by the one woman you wished to be on your side. “And maybe she has a point. I’ve been distracting you. I shouldn’t... I shouldn’t keep coming to you.”

You did not elaborate, you did not need to.

Paul’s expression tightened, and before you could move away, he reached out, gently gripping your hands between his. His touch was warm, grounding, but you tried not to let yourself sink into it.

“No,” he said, his voice firm now. “You haven’t been distracting me. You’ve... you’ve been keeping me sane. It’s not the same thing.”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head again. “But your mother thinks—”

“I don’t care what my mother thinks.”

The words were out of Paul’s mouth before he could stop them, and for a moment, he looked almost startled by his own admission. He blinked, as if trying to make sense of his own boldness, before his grip on your hands tightened just slightly, his eyes locking onto yours.

“I don’t care what she thinks about the time we spend together,” he said, quieter this time, but no less intense. “She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning, like the world’s pressing in from every side, and you’re just. Alone.”

You looked up at him then, your breath catching at the rawness in his voice. Paul never let anyone see him like this—not even you most of the time, not fully. But now, there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Desperation, maybe. Or something deeper, something unspoken.

“Whenever I’m with you, it’s the only time I don’t feel that way,” he continued, his voice low, like he was sharing a secret he’d been keeping for too long. “You’re not a distraction. You’re the only thing that keeps me steady.”

Your chest tightened, torn between the overwhelming urge to believe him and the guilt that had been festering inside you since Jessica’s words. You wanted to argue, but the look in his eyes made it impossible to say any words out loud.

So instead, you swallowed your thoughts, pressing them deep down where they couldn’t be reached.

“We just need to be more careful,” you said softly, pulling your hands away from his grasp. Your skin still tingled where his fingers had been. “Your mother’s right. We can’t keep hiding away in each other’s rooms. We can’t... we can’t keep acting like kids.”

Paul’s face fell, the tension in his shoulders sagging slightly. His now-free hands went up to rub at his face before he sighed. “But we’re not acting like kids.”

“Aren’t we?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “We’re literally sneaking into each other’s beds in the middle of the night, Paul. We’re still pretending like nothing’s changed.”

Paul was quiet for a long moment, his eyes flicking away from you, as if he couldn’t bring himself to argue. Maybe because deep down, he knew you were right.

But then, just as the silence between you started to feel unbearable, he spoke again, his voice quieter, but full of conviction.

“Nothing has changed though. Not between us.”

The words lingered in the air, and for the first time in a long while, you didn’t know how to respond. A part of you wanted to believe him, wanted to cling to the idea that no matter what the world threw at you, no matter what Lady Jessica said, you and Paul would always be the same. The same two people who had spent years leaning on each other, who had always been there to catch each other when the ground fell away.

Yet, you knew what Paul’s wishful thinking sounded like more than anyone else. You knew everything about him. And in this moment, you knew he was wrong. No matter how much you both tried to ignore it, the future was closing in around you.

“I should go,” you said quietly, getting up from your seat before he could say or do anything to stop you. “I need to think.”

Paul didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes was enough to keep you rooted in place for just a moment longer, looking down at him. He still looked so young, his eyes so wide. That familiar ache settled in your chest, the same ache that came whenever you thought about what you were trying so hard not to lose.

“I will see you tomorrow,” you said, and with that you left him to sit with the sound of rain drops against glass.

After Jessica’s most pointed lecture, your unease at night, the one you and Paul seemed cursed to be forever plagued by as children of the castle, had only increased. You woke in cold sweat or you did not wake at all – regardless, you stayed in your own bed, never venturing down that familiar path in the hallway. You hugged your knees for comfort. 

You were a proper young woman. As you ought to be.

Nothing could get you and Paul to stop spending time with each other entirely though, not his mother and certainly not complicated feelings. There was already a lot of that flowing around anyway.

Classes, meals, walks around the hallways, the occasional silent moment watching the waves side by side in a large window. Never late-night visits. Never lingering too much, especially not around Jessica. 

She seemed pleased with your development, so you bit your cheek and played the part.

It had been months since either of you crossed that invisible boundary, but the comfort of those nights lingered in your minds, a shared memory you couldn’t quite let go of. One that you held tight on rough nights.

Ironically enough, it was the nights without thunder or storms that you struggled the most. Gripped by fear and horror, you fought through the worst nightmare you had experienced in many years. Mangled bodies, fire and smoke, Paul’s face distorted by sandstorms that you swear you could feel cut into your fragile skin like class.

The scream was lodged in your throat as you shot up, finally able to pull yourself out of the depths of your consciousness of all that has happened and all you fear will. Drowning in sweat and tears, violently trembling all over, you suddenly found yourself on your feet in the cold hallway.

No coherent thoughts were running through your head, just instinct and an intense need to be saved from your own mind. Even in a waking state, you still felt half infused in the nightmare, seeing the scenes when you blink, as if tattooed on your eyelids.

Almost running down the known path, your hand grazing the wall as you went to stabilise yourself. The rational part of your brain told you it wasn’t appropriate, that you should listen to Jessica, you were both too old to be doing this – but you were not in a rational state of mind right now. Right now you were the same scared little girl you have always been, the one you fear you always will be, and you knew what you needed to do to quiet her screams. 

When you reached his door, you paused, your hand hovering over the handle. What if he didn’t want this anymore? What if he would turn you away?

Before you could second-guess yourself further, the door creaked open, and there he was. Paul stood in the doorway, lit up from behind by a single candle on his nightstand. His eyes were wide as he took the sight of you in, but there was no real surprise etched on his face. However, if you weren’t mistaken, you thought you saw relief in it. Like he had been waiting for you, hoping for you to come.

Paul breathed your name out like a ‘thank you’, stepping aside to let you in before you could even speak. His hair was dishevelled, his shirt wrinkled from where he must have been lying awake, staring at the tall ceiling.

You slipped in past him, already feeling some tension leave your body as soon as the door closed behind you. You weren’t sure what to say. Maybe you didn’t need to say anything at all. Letting your eyes meet his, the look on Paul’s face told you everything you needed to know.

Without a word, you moved toward the bed, and Paul followed, his presence a warm, steadying force behind you. He didn’t ask you any questions, he didn’t need to. You both knew that whatever it was, it was enough to bring you here, to him. 

You hesitated for just a moment, feeling the weight of the years between you. When you were children, there had been no second thoughts, no hesitation. But now, voices were creeping in – but you shoved them aside like his blankets, and climbed into his bed.

When Paul slid into bed beside you, everything felt right again.

The tension in your body melted away as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. You could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing, feel the warmth of his skin against yours, and suddenly, the fear that had gripped you moments ago faded into nothing.

You rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes as the last of your tremors subsided. He was your anchor, your constant in a world that was rapidly spinning out of control.

“Are you okay?” Paul finally asked, his voice soft, almost a whisper.

You nodded against him, but your throat felt tight, your words stuck behind the weight of everything unsaid. The nightmare had shaken you more than you wanted to admit, and it wasn’t just about the dark images in your head. It was the fear of losing Paul, of losing the one person who had been by your side for as long as you could remember.

“I’m glad you came,” Paul said quietly. “I wanted to come to you, but—” He trailed off, his hand tightening slightly on your shoulder as if to ground himself.

“I know,” you whispered, finally finding your voice. “I wanted to come sooner.”

There was a pause, and then, after a long moment, Paul’s thumb began tracing slow circles on your arm, his touch gentle but deliberate. It was a gesture of comfort, of familiarity. 

“I’ll always be here,” he murmured, so softly you almost didn’t hear him. “I swear it.”

You opened your eyes and tilted your head up, meeting his gaze in the dim light. His face was serious, his eyes reflecting the weight of the promise he’d just made. For a brief second, you thought he might say more, something you’d been waiting for but weren’t ready to confront. 

Instead, Paul’s expression softened, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, the gesture tender, reassuring. It was something he might have done when you were younger, but now it felt different. It wasn’t just comfort anymore—it was a part of the promise.

Neither of you said anything after that. You simply held each other, letting the quiet settle in. The world outside might have been shifting, changing in ways neither of you could control, but here, in the stillness of the night, there was nothing but you and Paul.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, only that, for the first time in a long while, you felt safe. And unfortunately, as the next few days would ensure, it was the last time for a long while as well.

***

When Arrakis claimed Duke Leto, it also claimed something inside Paul.

He wasn’t the same after that day. The boy who had been your partner in rebellion, the one who made you laugh even in the darkest of times, had hardened. His grief was silent, buried under layers of duty and survival, but you could see it. It was in the way his hands trembled ever so slightly when he thought no one was looking, the way his eyes had dulled since your arrival on this cursed planet.

In the middle of it all, you felt lost too. You had lost the closest you had to a father figure in Duke Leto, but worse, you were losing Paul—bit by bit, day by day, as he was forced to become someone you struggled to recognise. This was a different kind of nightmare, one you couldn’t wake from.

After growing used to the luxury of Caladan Castle’s beddings, you found yourself huddled with Paul in a small tent in the middle of the desert, the harsh winds of Arrakis howling outside. There was nothing but sand for miles, and for the first time since arriving on this planet, you felt truly untethered from the life you once knew.

Paul sat across from you, his back pressed against the rough fabric of the tent, his face half-shadowed by the faint light from a small glowglobe. His eyes were distant, fixed on something you couldn’t see, something only he could comprehend.

“Paul?” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

He didn’t answer at first, but then, slowly, his gaze shifted to you. There was a fragility there that caught you off guard—a vulnerability that reminded you of the boy you used to sneak around the castle with, the one who used to chase away your fears with a single glance.

Without thinking, you moved closer, kneeling in front of him. His breath hitched as you reached out, gently placing one hand on his arm and the other on his cheek. He looked down at your fingers, as if surprised by the touch, before his eyes met yours again.

You wanted to say something, anything at all, to ease his pain. To take some of the burden off his shoulders, even if that meant taking them upon your own. No words felt worthy enough and died in your throat, while the sentiment remained hot on your tongue.

With Arrakis raging around you, you wanted him to feel some sense of security.

“I’m still here,” you whispered, echoing the words he had said to you when you were the one needing the comfort.

For a moment, he just stared at you. Then, with a twitch of his lips, something cracked in his expression, something that had been carefully held in place to keep it all in. Paul’s shoulders sagged, the weight of loss and doom pressing down on him all at once.

He didn’t say anything, but when you shifted closer and pulled him into your arms, he didn’t resist. He simply let you hold him, his head resting against your shoulder, his breath shaky and uneven.

You sat like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s presence as the storm outside raged on. The world around you was crumbling, but here, in the faux quiet of the tent, there was nothing but the two of you. You didn’t have words for what you were feeling, but it didn’t matter. Paul understood. He always had.

As if the continued touch broke him, Paul made a sound like a tear-less sob, saving water while still drowning in emotion. His arms tightened around you, holding onto you for dear life.

He murmured something against your neck that you couldn’t hear. You made an inquisitive humming sound as you began to stroke his back, coaxing him through his pain.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered. His voice was raw, it sent ripples through your heart. “Please.”

“You won’t,” you promised, your fingers moving up to card through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere, Paul. I’ll be right here with you.”

If he wanted to answer, he couldn’t. Instead he let himself have this moment before facing a world that seemed increasingly too big.

***

Life among the Fremen was harsh, unforgiving, but the two of you had learned to survive. It had been weeks since you arrived in the sietch, and every day felt like a battle—against the elements, against the constant threat of danger, against the growing distance between you and the boy you grew up with.

The desert night was deceptively cool, the air carrying a sharpness that contrasted with the oppressive heat of the day. You stood just outside the sietch, gazing up at the unfamiliar stars that stretched endlessly above the dunes. The sky was clear—almost too clear—so different from the comforting overcast of Caladan, the gentle crash of waves a memory long lost to the wind. You inhaled deeply, trying to ground yourself, but the vastness of the desert made you feel small. Disconnected.

There were few quiet moments here, and you took a deep breath as you were surrounded by it.

“I thought I’d find you here.” 

There was a shuffle of footsteps behind you, soft but deliberate. Without turning, you of course knew it was Paul. He came up behind you, standing slightly to your left so you could see him in your sideview. You leaned back, resting your shoulder on his own.

You smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Paul laughed lowly – some things never change. “Neither could I.”

You shook your head, still staring at the stars. “I don’t know if I’ve had a proper night’s sleep since we left Caladan.”

“I miss the rain,” Paul said quietly. “I never thought I would. I used to complain about it when we were kids.”

You smiled faintly. “Don’t lie, you hated being inside when it rained. You’d drag me out into the mud even when it was pouring.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “Well, you never said no.”

“I never could.”

There was a pause, one that carried the weight of the past few months – Arrakis, the loss of Duke Leto, the constant struggle for survival. The two of you had grown so used to moving, fighting, planning for the next step, that there had been no time to sit with your grief. No time to just be, in the way you only can with each other.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Paul murmured, glancing at you sideways. “How quickly everything changes. A few months ago, we were on Caladan, complaining about studies, sneaking into each other’s rooms like we always used to... and now–”

“We’re here,” you finished for him, your voice quieter. “In the middle of the desert.”

Paul’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, and you felt the weight of his gaze. You’d been through so much together, seen so much of each other, in ways no one else had. Yet there was still a distance between you now, a hesitation that hadn’t been there when you were younger. 

It was as though you both knew you were standing on the edge of something, but neither of you dared to cross it.

“I was thinking...” Paul started, his voice trailing off. He looked away, frowning slightly as if choosing his words carefully. “Would it be... strange if you stayed with me tonight? Just for comfort, I mean.”

Your heart skipped, somehow caught off guard by the question. There had been so many nights, both as children and as teenagers, where you had found solace in each other’s company. Whether from nightmares, from stress, or simply because being apart felt wrong.

“Not strange, anyone would need a bit of comfort in our situation,” you tried at humour before looking back at him with soft eyes. 

He didn’t say anything, seemingly trapped between his thoughts. Usually when you spend the night together lately it was because of difficult emotions. You open the door for him to talk about his feelings.

“Are you– are you okay?” you asked, searching his face for the answer. 

Paul was always the one holding everything together, always taking on the weight of his responsibilities without complaint. But tonight, standing under the cold desert sky, he seemed tired. Tired in a way that went beyond just sleepless nights.

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked out over the dunes, his expression unreadable, though the subtle tightening of his jaw told you he was wrestling with something.

“I’ve been thinking about my father,” he finally said, his voice thick with the grief he rarely let slip. “About everything he wanted for me. For us. How he wanted me to be a ruler who led with compassion, but how can I...?” He trailed off, swallowing hard, and you could see the battle raging behind his eyes.“I don’t know if I can be what he wanted.”

Your heart ached at his words. You had always known Paul felt the weight of his future, but you hadn’t realised how deeply it cut. Stepping closer, you touched his arm lightly, drawing his attention back to you.

“You already are,” you said softly. “Even in the middle of all this, Paul, you haven’t lost that part of yourself. Your father would see that.”

He exhaled shakily, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, it felt like the world fell away. There was a vulnerability there, one he rarely let show. It made something inside you shift, as though the careful lines you had mentally drawn to protect yourself, to keep things unchanged between you, were suddenly blurring.

“I’m just afraid of losing more,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Of losing everyone I care about. Losing you.”

The words settled heavily in the space between you, a truth that had always lingered but was now undeniable. You were no longer just childhood friends. You were no longer just companions trying to survive. There was a throne in your heart, and on it, Paul was more than just a duke. 

“You won’t lose me,” you said firmly, turning towards him and stepping even closer. “You couldn’t. I’m here, Paul, I’ve always been here.”

Paul stared at you, his expression shifting into something you couldn’t quite place. His eyes softened, the hard edges that had been carved into him by grief and duty melting away, if only for a moment. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at you now, something that had been building for years but had never quite been said aloud.

“You don’t understand,” Paul whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t lose you. Not just because you’re the last piece of Caladan I have left... but because I—”

He stopped, his throat working as if the words were too hard to say. But you knew what he meant. You’d always known, hadn’t you? 

Paul took a step closer, the last step separating his body from yours. His hand lifted to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers lingered at the base of your neck, and you were sure he could feel the rapid beat of your heart in your pulsepoint. It echoed the weight of what he wasn’t saying. 

“You can say it,” you whispered, your voice trembling, though you weren’t sure if it was from fear or anticipation.

Paul’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he looked like he was on the verge of stepping back, of retreating into that familiar space where he could hide from the truth. But then his palm made contact with the side of your neck, and he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. Breathing in deeply, slowly.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words tumbling out like a secret he had been holding onto for too long. “I have loved you for so long, and I didn’t even realise it. But now, I can’t stop thinking about it. About you.”

Your heart stuttered at the confession, your breath catching in your throat. It wasn’t a declaration shouted from the rooftops, it wasn’t a grand, romantic gesture. It was quiet, real, the kind of love that had grown slowly over years, woven into every shared moment, every laugh, every late-night conversation.

“And I love you,” you whispered back, the words barely audible in the quiet of the desert night. “You’re my best friend, my person. You must know that.”

Paul let out a soft, almost relieved breath, his hand moving up to cup your cheek as he tilted your face up to meet his. There was a question in his eyes, one he didn’t need to ask. You answered it by leaning in, lips barely brushing against his, before he closed the final gap with the gentlest of kisses. He was tentative, as though testing the waters of something new, something fragile but real.

It was a kiss that felt like a promise.

It lingered, even when he pulled back ever so slowly, resting his forehead back against yours. 

You both stood there in the quiet, the weight of the desert and the night around you, but the tension between you finally dissipating through your touches.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Paul whispered again, his voice steady this time, though the vulnerability was still there, just beneath the surface.

“I will stay with you every night, if that would make you happy.” There was no hesitation in your voice or your heart. Just love.

A smile spread on his face before he pressed it against your lips in another kiss. Searing, caring, passionate. This was the closest you have seen him to his old boyish self, always happy to bask in your presence.

Letting his hand travel down to find yours, he interlaced your fingers and pulled you back into the sietch.

His room was small, barely big enough for the both of you, a stark contrast to your conditions at Caladan. But as you lay down beside each other, it didn’t matter, you were glad for the excuse to keep him even closer. Paul wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly, and for the first time since Arrakis had stolen everything from you, you felt safe. Safe in the knowledge that whatever came next, whatever trials the desert or the universe had in store, you wouldn’t face them alone.

As you lay in his arms, your head resting against his chest, you whispered, “We’ll get through this, Paul. Together.”

Paul’s grip tightened around you, and you could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

“We will,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Not ever.”

“And I you. No matter what, my love.”

Warmth spread across Paul’s face at the name. He thought, with sleep beginning to cloud his mind, that though there are many uncomfortable changes – that is one he will happily accept. 

For the first time in weeks, you both fell asleep easily, wrapped in the comfort of each other, and the quiet promise of the love that had finally, after all these years, been released into dry air.

[feirceangel]

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

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

Imagine | Beloved (Paul Atreides)

Word Count: 1,820

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

The halls of Castle Caladan are cold tonight.

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

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

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

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

You're not angry about it.

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

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

Being friends came easily.

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

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

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

And now you're both older.

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

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

And you believe him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you doing here at this hour?"

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

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

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

"I was not going to disturb him."

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fix him with an unimpressed stare.

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

He regains his composure, “I want you.”

You blink at him.

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

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

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

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

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

“Kindness gets you nowhere in this life.”

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

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

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

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

“I will not let you.”

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

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

Infuriated, you stand and glare at the smug bastard.

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

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

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

~~~

The next day commences as normal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine, just been tired lately.”

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

His eyes flicker up to yours.

“You’re lying.”

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

“I told you it’s nothing.”

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

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

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

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

“Please.”

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

He’d do the same for you.

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

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

“Aric asked you to wed him?”

You nod.

“Then he did this?”

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

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

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

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

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

“How-“

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

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

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

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

Stunned, Aric stumbles back with a curse.

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

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

Aric groans in response.

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

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

“No, no he hasn’t.”

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

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

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

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

“Get on your knees.”

You watch as Aric drops to the floor.

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

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

Aric grits his teeth, “I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

Aric nods and retreats with a burning face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

[demon-of-the-ancient-world]

I know this is a long shot, and I have no idea how Messiah is even going to be handled onscreen in regards to the time jump, but I'd love a scene of Paul wrapping up his own wounds from the end of Part 2. Because one, you can't just injure your main character That Much and then never follow up on it in any way.

But more importantly I want that emphasis on how alone he is. I need the narrative to keep acknowledging that. Despite being so important *in theory*, he isn't protected, he isn't cared about. He's a thing to be in awe of and be terrified of. So having him alone, injured, taking care of himself in private with nobody watching him or following him...and then having him drag himself back to his feet to go commit more war crimes immediately after showing him in a deeply vulnerable and lonesome position would be. hm. something.

[pmak2002]

The Jordan heat was almost unbearable and wearing a stilsuit didn't help at all. Between takes everyone was encouraged to drink plenty of water and sit in the shade. Denis made sure everyone was taaking breaks and staying in the shade.

Timothee spent the majority of his breaks sipping water and talking with Denis and his father who had flown out to Jordan to watch Timothee shoot his scenes for Dune 2. You had flown out with his dad and stayed at a apartment with Timothee while he filmed.

On this hot day. You had stayed back at the cool apartment after getting groceries from a local market. You decided to spend the rest of the day relaxing until Timothee and his dad returned.

Halfway through the filming day.

Timothee started feeling lightheaded and being in a heavy and uncomfortable still suit didn’t help.

He couldn’t really focus enough to say his lines. His entire body felt like it was on fire.

He stumbled through the sand back towards the resting area. Zendaya followed him worried.

Denis looked at the rest of the cast and crew and called them out to take a break. Seeing that Timothee really needed one. Everyone else probably did too.

“Papa I don’t feel good.” Timothee said as he went to sit by his dad.

“donne-lui de l'eau, donne-lui de l'eau!”

Denis called to the crew noticing how sweaty and pale Timothee seemed.

Timothee’s Dad placed his hat on his head as they sat together under the tent set up with a fan and coolers full of cold drinks. Tim’s Dad grabbed one water bottle opened it and handed it to Timothee.

“tu dois boire de l'eau.” His dad said.

Timothee took it and drank it eagerly as if he’d never get water again.

Zendaya grabbed her own bottle of water and sat next to Timothee. She reached up to touch his forehead.

“You’re burning bad Timmy. We need to cool you down.” Zendaya said worriedly.

Timothee’s Dad got up to get a rag and put it in the cooler of ice as well as towels.

Zendaya grabbed an already cold wash cloth from one of the other coolers to wipe Timothee’s face.

Timothee groaned and coughed harshly

“So hot.” He whined

“You’ll be ok Timmy.” Zendaya said.

Timothee: nodded and took a deep breath. Being in front of the fans was nice but to his body it wasn’t enough.

Timothee swallowed hard suddenly feeling nauseous.

“êtes-vous ok?” He heard Denis call in French.

Timothee’s head was swimming. He could barely focus on anything.

Denis sounded so far away. He got up and walked a few steps away to take a deep breath and try to calm down. His stomach started swirling around and his nausea increased tenfold.

He started to gag and the next thing he knew he was vomiting into the sand. He felt the hands of his father on his back.

He could feel everyone’s panic but couldn’t hear anything. He could barely make out his dad and Denis’s frantic french.

Then he was out.

The next thing you know you’re getting a call from Denis and he’s panicking as he explains that Timothee had vomited and collapsed during a film break.

“He’s at the hospital Y/N he’s not feeling well. He’s asleep now but he was asking for you as soon as he woke up when he got to the hospital. His dad is with him now.”

“I’ll be right there!” Don’t worry just make sure he’s comfortable ok?”

“Ok see you soon.” Denis said before you hung up and rushed to the hospital.

You found him curled up in a hospital bed covered in cooled blankets and ice packs.

You greet Timothee’s father and he reassures you he’ll be ok.

“The doctor said he’ll be ok. He’s getting fluids and rest now.”

You nod and look over to Timothee asleep yet shivering from the cold blankets and Ice packs.

You head over and sit next to him stroking his sweat soaked curls.

“Oh my darling boy.” You mutter softly as you stroke his curls.

When he wakes up and sees you he whimpers and begins to cry.

“Oh honey I’m here my dear.” You coo and kiss his nose.

“Don’t feel good. Cold.” He said weakly.

“You overheated and we need to cool down. You’ll be alright.”

His dad nods and moves closer to his beside.

“Je ne me sens pas bien papa.” Timothee whimpered.

“c'est bon Timothée, tout ira bien.” His father said trying to reassure his anxious son.

Timothee continued to cry feeling anxious and so sick. Soon he’s vomiting again and the doctors mention he could have sunstroke which is causing the vomiting spells.

You play with his curls with one hand and brush away his tears with the other. Despite the meds he’s being given intravenously. He’s still feeling really sick.

As the day progressed the med dosages are increased he finally starts to improve.

Soon the doctors give him the ok to be released and send you home with anti nausea medication and a few other medications to help him feel better.

Once back at the rented apartment you help Timothee with the bathroom. (He has the runs from the medicine.) then you help him get comfy in bed and give him water.

“We’ll be on a filming break until you feel 100% ok? Denis freaked and told me we’ll let you rest ok?” You tell him.

Timothee nods exhausted from the day. He headbutts you wanting cuddles.

Timothee’s dad ruffles his curls and scolds him for head butting you.

“mon cher garçon, ne fais pas ça.”

“It’s ok Marc he just wants cuddles is all.” You say.

Marc chuckles “he could have asked.”

“Leave the poor man be.” You say.

You crawl into bed next to Timothee and he moves closer to be held. His dad fetches him more water and hands you another blanket before heading to his room.

Timothee nuzzles you and headbutts you again.

“Hey! Your dad is right you know. Sometimes that head of yours hurts when you shove me.

He does it again and kisses you.

“Love you Mon cher,”

“Love you too. Please rest.”

“Only if you hold me?”

You kiss him.

“Of course lovey.”

[roxygen22]

Sorry I keep finding new prompts lol 😂

10 of this list with Paul Atredias plz and thank you take your time! It’s my fault for finding new ideas lol

#10: "I've gotta spit up..."

C/W: puke warning

Desert Power

In the days after Paul arrived at Sietch Tabr, he spent hours each day sparring with anyone who would practice with him. The boy/man/duke never stilled for fear of actually having to sit with the trauma wrought upon his family by the Harkonnens. He would rather stay on the move...

...until his body refused to go any further.

As per usual, Paul convinced someone to spar, though this time only Chani fulfilled his request. Still unaccustomed to the strange spices in the food, his mid-day meal did not sit well on his stomach as they practiced. He attempted to push through until Chani spoke up.

"I did not think it possible that you could get even more pale," she teased as Paul sat down on a nearby rock until she saw him swallowing repetitively. "Paul, don't let it out."

"I've gotta spit up, out, not swallow it down. I can't-"

As Paul mouth opened for the last syllable, he doubled over and puked up the contents of his stomach. Chani winced and looked away, unaccustomed to such a display from an adult. Fremen children are taught at a young age how to suppress their gag reflex to conserve their water.

Chani spun back around quickly when she heard a soft thud on the ground. Paul now laid face down in the sand next to his own vomit.

"Paul!"

Chani shook him roughly with no result and yelled for help. Two fellow Fedaykin quickly came to their aid and carried Paul's limp body to the healers inside.

When he woke, he was flanked by Jessica on one side and Chani and Stilgar on the other.

"Wha-?" he croaked, throat parched from stomach acid and the dry environment.

"Shhh," Jessica cooed, laying her hand on his shoulder to ground him.

"You pushed yourself too hard, too fast," Stilgar admonished. Chani mumbled something akin to 'idiot' in Chakobsa under her breath.

Jessica took a breath to speak next but hesitated from the catch in her own throat that had to be cleared first. "My dear one. You need to give yourself a chance to process all that has happened."

"I need revenge," Paul said flatly, slowly regaining his wits.

"Your father didn't believe in revenge," his mother rebutted.

"But, I do." Paul swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood wobbly. "For you. For her," he retorted, pointing at his unborn sister in Jessica's belly before broadly sweeping around him. "For them. For too long, they have had to endure the subjugation of their home by foreigners. No more!"

He skulked off without another word. Embarrassed. Mournful. A duke with no land and boy with no father. There was no time to lay idle and recover, earning a reputation of being sickly and feeble. He needed to cultivate desert power.

<><><><><>

Masterlist

@croatianprincess @bluizh @groovy-lady @pmak2002

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Oh I realized a thing about the Paul/Feyd-Rautha fight. So usually if you have a big fight scene, but especially if you do something like have a character get injured in a way that would definitely be fatal if they weren't cursed with inescapable Main Character Energy, you follow up the fight scene with some moment of comfort or relief or something, which serves to release the tension for the audience and let them know whew, that was scary, but it's okay now. Your character is hurt but they're gonna survive. (Or alternately, if they're dying heroically, it was worth it and what the narrative demanded.)

But here there's nothing. Paul is surrounded by devoted followers; his mother; his lover; one of his oldest teachers and a loyal servant of House Atreides. No one steps forward to offer a shoulder to lean on or help him to his feet. He's left them all behind. He's not a person who got hurt in a fight anymore; he's a myth that people shrink back from. So he pulls the knife out by himself. He stands up by himself. Other than the emperor very begrudgingly touching his hand to kiss the ring, I don't think anyone touches him at all for the rest of the movie. He's completely alone. They never release that tension, because Paul's alive but it is very much not going to be okay.

[firelilyfox]

Deadly Eyes

Dune: Paul Atreides x female reader

Warnings: se&ual harassment / angst / curses / hateful words / comfort

If someone means harm to the girl he loves, Paul won't hesitate

Words: 1k

_______________________________

You stare at the men and women right in front of you. All of them were looking at you with the same emotions pictured in their faces. Disgust. Outrage. 

Today was the first day after Paul announced your relationship to his people. The Fremen welcomed you with open arms… well some of them at least. Your roots lies with none of the big houses. All you know about your family is, that they were travelers who never lived at the same place for more than a couple of years. You are one of the Lost Ones. But when Paul rescued you from being tortured by the brutal Harkonen a couple months ago, you never thought about traveling somewhere else again. Your people always praised that the soul is a free from wich never settles and never find the one and only home. Paul changed your way of thinking. With him you felt at home for the first time ever. 

„The Mahdi can’t be with someone who is lost“, one of the believers growled as you were passing by. All you wanted to do was taking a walk and exploring the hallways of the Sietch, one of the rocky formations what the Fremen call their home. And now you are standing in front of a hand full of believers who are talking bad about you. 

A old, wrinkly woman hisses. „You don’t belong here, Lost One.“ 

You look at her fully blue eyes. The same color your eyes have turned as an outcome to the effects of spice everywhere. „Please let me through. I don’t wish for trouble.“ 

Now a young man steps right in front of you. Too close to be comfortable with. You try to move and bring some distance between the two of you, but your back almost immediately hits the wall. Your chest tightens up. This feels like a cage. A cage of people who hate you. 

„But you are trouble, whore.“ He couldn’t have been more than five years older than you, but he was so intimidating that you wanted to flee before he would hurt you. You still are one of the Lost Ones. Their are no fighters. Your people staying alive because they run for dear life when problems appear. That’s why the Fremen always looked down on your kind. 

„All your people do, is stealing and living in the shadows. You are not worthy to be here. Your are not worthy to be with Muad’Dib“, he grabbed your neck with a tight grib. „But I’ll find some use for u, don’t you worry.“ 

The others looked away while he is dragging you to a shallow corner at the end of the hallway. Your screams got muffled by his greasy hand and silent tears filled your eyes. The back of your head hit the wall hard and your vision flickers for a moment. Fear crawling all over your body, followed by the tip of his knife. You’re trying to beg for him to stop, but all he does is giggling at your helplessness. 

„I will show you your worth and after that I will give your body to the desert. I will…“ 

A voice is shouting at the near distance. „Where is she?!“ The man fearlessly let’s go of you and hiding his knife. You fall down on your knees as Paul rushes around the corner. Gentle hands pulling you up and you begin to sob, hiding your face at his chest. 

„How dare you to touch her!“ Paul growls at the man who is now lowering his head in respect for his Duke. 

„I did not want to bring any disrespect to you, Mahdi. But this woman damages you reputation. She is not worthy to be …“ but Paul cuts him off. 

„She is equal to me. I am who I am today, because of her. How dare you to speak about her like that?“ His voice became dangerously silent and you could feel under your palms how tense his muscles were. As you look around you discover that people have stopped and watching the scene with wide eyes. 

You reach up to gently touch his cheek, so Paul would look at you. „I’m okay, Paul. Nothing happened. I’m unharmed.“ 

For a moment the coldness in his eyes vanished, but as he looked down at your neck and saw the bruises … he was ready to kill someone. Paul kisses your forehead and it feels like that he needed to do it just to calm himself down, before he would actually cut a throat. His grip around your waist thightens but not in a hurtful way. You never felt more protected as right here in is arms. 

Paul turns his head slowly. A deadly look on his face. The man kneeled down in fear of his punishment. „I will only say this once and for all. Who ever touches this woman and mean harm to her, will be sentenced to death. Without exceptions.“ He looks around, making eye contact with everyone who is watching. „Spread the word. I will personally kill everyone no matter if man or woman.“ 

The Fremen quickly leaving the place murmuring and chattering. The message was clear. If you break this rule, death by Muad’Dip will find you. 

„And for you“, Paul looked down at the man who tried to do unspeakable things to you. His voice full of dark rage. „If you ever come near her again or look at her even from afar, I’ll break your neck.“ He gave two other men a sign to carry him away. 

„I should have known that something like that might would happen“, Paul curses. „I’m so sorry. I should have never left you go alone.“ His eyes meet yours and the deep sorrow in them breaks your heart a little. 

„You couldn’t ever have guessed that. This isn’t your fault and it’s not your job to see something like that before it happens.“ 

Paul pulls you closer now that the two of you are alone. „But is is my job to protect you.“ 

„And you did.“ 

He leans his forehead against yours, taking a deep breath. His body is still tense but his touch is so gently. „I don’t want to imagine what could’ve happened if I weren’t be here on time … I couldn’t…“ his voice breaks. This is the side of him no one ever sees. The softness and the vulnerability. To everyone he is the fearless Muad’Dib. But to you he is Paul Atreides. The man who owns your heart. 

„Then don’t. You saved me. I am right here.“ To prove your point you get on your tiptoes and kiss him softly. Paul cups your face with his hands, holding you so close to him that nothing would have room in between. 

_____________________________________________

Thank you for reading! Comments, ideas & reposts are very welcome <3

[cassie48]

∙ 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘺 ∙

(Eventual)Dark!Paul Atreides x fem pregnant reader

• Pt 1 •

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

You and Paul grew up together on Caladan. You were born on the same day, on the same hour. Paul’s mother lady Jessica had always seen you as a daughter and for some unknown reason, insisted that you and her son always stay together.

When you and Paul grew to become teenagers, feelings became involved, and a powerful love blossomed. When the two of you heard you had to leave for Arrakis, you were both petrified. But you knew everything would be ok, as long as you stayed together.

When the two of you arrived to the planet, the local fremen called Paul the “Lisan al-Gaib” and you the “malaka”. Neither of you knew what that meant. So, walking hand in hand, you glanced at each other, both your faces full of confusion and curiosity.

When you were told that the names meant 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 and 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯, both of you were confused.

The night before the imperial Sardaukar troops invaded Arrakis, you found out you were pregnant. It was a complete shock and you and Paul were barely 20. You told Paul as soon as you found out. He comforted you, saying the baby was a blessing, and you two would get through it together.

When the troops came in, all hell broke lose. Thankfully you made it out with Paul, and met lady Jessica before running for the hills. Your hand went to your belly, complete fear consuming you. You three managed to get a plane and fly out.

After surviving a storm, and a long, dangerous journey, the three of you ended up in Fremen territory. You met Chani, who was sceptical of your boyfriend, but seemed to like you.

One man was not happy with your arrival and even challenged Jessica. Paul fought for her, killing the man, after a long brutal fight.

As soon as he had done it, he walked straight up to you, he looked full of power and confidence.

“It’s ok my love” he had told you as he hugged you close to him, his hand eventually resting on you belly. Jessica had told you she was pregnant as well, which eased up your nerves, knowing you two would get through it together.

After a good few weeks with the Fremen, Paul learned the ways of the Fremen being taught by stilgar , you tried to do what you could , which was little as you were now coming up to almost 4 months pregnant.

It all changed when Paul rode his first sand worm, you stood with the Fremen watching along with them as you saw Paul do nearly the impossible, smiling at him

All the Fremen beside you stared yelling out 𝗟𝗶𝘀𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗹-𝗚𝗮𝗶𝗯, some walking up to you before kneeling, and taking your hand yelling out 𝗠𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗸𝗮, praising you

You were confused and scared, and just wanted your boyfriend to hold you. More and more people came up to you grabbing your hand, until suddenly you began to cry. You don’t really know why, but your emotions had been all over the place with your pregnancy.

As soon as Stilgar saw you crying he yelled out at the Fremen, asking them 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘩? 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘳𝘺!

Immediately they stopped, backing away with whispered apologies to you. When you told Paul later he was outraged.

“Do they think they can grab you like that? You are pregnant they could have hurt you or the baby!” He yelled out, pure rage in his voice.

“It’s ok Paul real-“ you started

“No. It’s not, you were crying, Chani told me. This has to stop” is all he said before pulling you into a hug, you resting your head on his shoulder, his head resting on your own.

Jessica had told you she thinks your baby’s is a boy, you believe her, as she is now the reverend mother. She had really changed, it scared you.

The Fremen and Paul continued fighting against the Sardauker troops, most were very successful. Sadly they blew up the temple, where many had been inside and where they prayed and laid their loved ones to rest.

Paul had been called down to speak with the leaders in the south of Arrakis, he took Stilgars place as he had been injured from the attack.

When you two arrived, Paul told you to go to sleep for a while, you were now seven months pregnant and your body was becoming tired more often.

After about two hours Jessica came up, yelling for you, saying Paul was in trouble. You jumped out of bed and waddled down to him as fast as you possibly could.

She told you he had drank worm blood, to gain an understanding of the prophecy and his future. She told you only your years would bring him back to life. Of course, you had already been crying, so it wasn’t so hard.

Paul gasped and sat up, coming back to reality, he glared seeing all the people surrounding them. He turned to look at you, smiling as he did, cupping your cheeks. You leant into his touch, throwing yourself into his embrace, letting many tear’s escape.

Stilgar yelled out “As it was written!” In pure shock.

“Paul why’d you do it!” You yelled, while crying into his shoulder.

“It’s ok. I understand now. This baby, it’s a miracle, 𝗛𝗲 shall rule after me” he said smiling while looking at you adoringly.

“What? I-I don’t understand! Rule?” You said still crying from the events.

“Trust me. You are the Malaka. You, are the most important woman on the planet right now. This pregnancy, it’s in the prophecy, 𝗬𝗼𝘂 were in the prophecy my love” he said properly sitting up.

“W-What?” You whispered still confused.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about any of this, you trust me don’t you” He said leaning in closer to you.

You nodded, leaning your body into his, your crying and worrying making you tired.

“Good.” Is all he said leaning into you and kissing you passionately, forgetting you two had a whole audience.

“Oh em well everybody give Lisan al-Gaib and the Malaka privacy” stilgar ordered as the Fremen left yelling out messiah words in their language.

You and Paul continued making out for around five minutes before he noticed how tired you were.

“Come my love” he said as he picked you up, holding you tightly in his arms. You leaned your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes, feeling completely safe in his embrace.

“No one will harm you, my love” he whispered as you drifted off to sleep.

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

There will be a pt2!!

[dropitpunk]

when paul has a bad vision

tags: paul atreides x gn!reader, hurt/comfort kinda, kissing, sweet and short.

distraught mumbling in your right ear woke you from your slumber. paul was shaking beside you again, whispering senseless words into the air.

"paul, wake up," you said and shook his shoulder gently, his body warm but unresponsive to your plead. "paul, it's me..."

his mouth stopped and his eyes opened so suddenly you had to contain a startled gasped, trying your best to remain a comforting presence for paul.

"you were having visions again." you observed, trying to meet paul's eyes. he was purposely avoiding you and that was always not a good sign.

paul's response came in the form of touch, light fingers travelling all over your face and neck. he squeezed your shoulder and caressed your head tenderly, almost desperate.

"what did you see, paul?" you pressed, giving in to the hand that was pressing your head to his chest, the thumping beat of his heart making you dizzy.

"it was hard to see clearly, but it was you and me." you waited for him to explain but he didn't make a move to continue, still looking at your face and body but not your eyes.

he gulped, kissing your head as he glanced at the ceiling. "i'm afraid i won't know the right path and you will leave me."

"i'm not leaving you. ever." you spoke seriously, catching paul's chin between your fingers so you could force his gaze into yours. "i trust you with all my being."

paul was deep in thought, but you were patient.

he kissed your lips softly, savouring the moment. you could feel his hand squeezing your arm, thumb making circles on your skin. his legs moved, tangling with your poorly covered ones.

his hair was messy, eyes tired, but his mouth was hot and passionate against yours. he needed you in the moment, he needed you beside him, against him.

"i want to be closer to you," he whispered and pressed a hand against your back under your thin shirt, holding you so hard his nails left marks.

his eyes didn't leave your form for a second.

"i think you the only way you can achieve that is if you crawl into my skin." you smiled softly against his chest, kissing the exposed skin. he sighed, pecking your lips again.

"so be it." he smiled back, weak but more certain than before.

[cannibalizedlove]

Dream boy.

Information and warnings — x male reader, comfort, sad boy Paul, baby Paul, Paul absolutely smitten, fluffy, obsessed Paul, overwhelming cuteness.

The young duke was always considerably restless, tossing and turning as visions of war, bloodshed and revenge clouded his mind. His eyes began to hang lower and lower, and the preorbital shadows under them grew darker and darker throughout the weeks.

Though tonight, it was quiet, he wasn’t uncomfortably hot like most nights when he would sweat uncontrollably due to his nightmares; yet he wasn’t able to sleep.

It was you. You were now plaguing his restless thoughts, and it was confusing him. It always started out the same; you’d hold out your hand, whisper his name and take him to a secluded area of the sandy planet.

You’d hold him, and tell him how he’s safe with you, how everything will be fine.

He’d snap out of the daydream with tears streaming down his face, he’d reach out, to no prevail. You were all he wanted, comfort, was all he wanted.

With the death of his father, and the constant push from his mother, who decided the prophecy he didn’t subscribe to was more important than his happiness; comfort was a lost art to him.

You were utterly handsome, and your voice rung through his ears like a lullaby a mother sings to her young to calm down.

Yet where were you? Where was his dream boy? The only one who wanted to hold him, to tell him he was okay, to kiss him through his sobs.

He’d do anything to find you.

Like clockwork, the burning sun would rise, and he would begin training like a mad man, anything to focus his mind off of you. Each hit would bring you back, your soft touch, your warm smile that made his heart race.

Today was important, Paul and his mother would have to venture out and find the Fremen, it wasn’t possible to do it on their own anymore. As he put his stillsuit, your voice called his name, and with each movement it only got louder; like you were becoming closer and closer.

The walk was painful, his feet were killing him as he sand walked for hours, and when his mother wasn’t looking; he would let subtle cries out.

The night had fallen and as spice entered his system more and more, the ideas of you became more like untouchable figures infront of him. Paul began to hallucinate you walking with him, holding your hand and feeling your soft skin against his. More tears fell, stupidly wasting his bodies water, but he couldn’t help it.

All he wanted was you.

The two Atreides arrived at a mountain-like formation, and dropped silent. A couple dozen Fremen came from the shadows, watching the two of them with their hands ready to grab for their weapons.

A man noticed the young boy, his familiarity keeping him alive for a few moments more. Stilgar, he was identified as, told the group about Paul; yet was still weary about him.

They explained that Paul was of use, yet his mother would be used for water. The Benefit Gesserit launched at the Fremen leader, proving herself. Paul had climbed up the mountain, pulling out a gun aimed at the leaders head.

When the group calmed down, and his mother was proven worthy enough for the time being; a boy emerged from the shadows.

“I wouldn’t have let you hurt them.” A voice called, that voice. Paul’s head swiveled to the boy, the boy.

His heart skipped a beat, and his jaw hung open. You were there. You, his dream boy. The most beautiful thing he had ever seen was more than just a dream.

Paul stayed silent, and watched as you swiftly moved around him. You were touchable. You were real.

The time came for Paul to prove himself. A fight with the strongest Fremen. He was terrified. You saw he was shaking, and you felt your heart breaking.

Paul was beautiful, quiet, and from Stilgars story, highly intelligent.

You wanted nothing more than to help him. You moved closer to him, and gently grabbed his arm. Paul instantly fell into your touch, pushing against you like an animal getting pets.

“Here, take this. It’s a crysknife. Jamis is a fair fighter, he won’t let you suffer. I would like you to die with an honorable weapon.” You sweetly smiled at him, you didn’t believe in his ability to fight such a talented Fremen, but you knew he’d die trying.

Paul was whipped. If he were to die, he would happily be laid to rest meeting you.

He took your crysknife, and nodded as he shuffled to begin the fight.

Each hit was intense, and you gritted your teeth at each blow to the outsider. When Paul brought your weapon to Jamis’ throat, begging him to yield, you were shocked. Was he toying with him, or was he too scared to take someone’s life?

The ladder was true, his mother confirmed it.

More blows would hit, and more groans would escape both the fighters mouths but ultimately, Paul had won.

You were in complete shock, saddened by the death of your fellow fighter, but more proud of Paul for his winnings.

The Fremen wrapped Jamis, and you walked to Paul, taking note of his broken nose. You stole him away, leading him down a path next to the mountain.

“You’re strong. No ones ever been able to make Jamis faultier, even in sparring.” You spoke softly, wanting nothing more than to wipe the blood off of his nose.

You’ve never felt this close to anyone, you knew not to get attached. The Arrakis sun doesn’t care who you are, if you’re caught in it for long enough, it’ll take you. Yet here comes this random boy and you’re doing anything to be close to him.

Paul didn’t speak, his eyes followed you and bored into you with a longing look. You wondered what had happened for him to end up here, for him to need the Fremen protection.

The two of you sat on a high pile of sand, feet apart and neither one of you daring to speak.

“I want to learn the Fremen way. I want to live amongst you and fight for you.” Paul finally spoke, his soft yet firm voice having a ring you can definitely get used to. He sounded exhausted, and he was utterly winded.

“I can teach you a few things, but I don’t think you’re in much of a condition to fight right now.” You half joked, closing a bit more space between the two of you and gesturing at his nose and torso.

Paul chuckled slightly, groaning from the pain afterwards.

Your eyebrows crinkled together in worry, and reached out for him. You wiped his nose, which earned a yelp from the boy and him trying to push away.

It pained you to see him hurt.

You shushed him, and held his face, whispering to him as you got the last bits of blood.

“You’re okay, it’s alright.” You told him, and Paul pushed you away quickly.

You fell on your back, and cursed at him.

Paul was only showing you his back, as tears began to fall down his face. The boy began to shake, wiping his face profusely and yelling at himself under his breath to stop it.

“Hey, I’ve got you. You’re okay.” You enveloped him in a hug. Paul resisted for a moment, clawing at you before fully accepting your touch. The cries became louder as you tried to calm him.

“You must stop crying, dehydration will kill you before any attack on the Fremen will. I have you, no need to cry.” You whispered in his ear, turning him around and holding him close to you.

Paul nodded, shaking like a leaf in your touch.

He had wondered if Jamis had killed him, and this is what heaven was. You were everything to him, so kind and gentle, something he wanted nothing more than. A part of him wondered if this was just another vision of his, and he would wake up and begin his daily routine of training, but as you brought a hand to his hair and quieted him once more he knew you were really his.

“You’re like a dream.” Paul whimpered out, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

[crescenthistory]

you are my favourite silence

Pairing: Paul Atreides x Reader

Summary: Jessica's lecture and the eventual nightmare-catalysed-reunion, from Paul's tortured, yearning perspective. Based on "in the silence, there is an us".

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: not proofread, angst, hurt/comfort, references to nightmares, intense yearning, descriptions of anxiety and panic, feeling like the world is demanding too much of you, being super in love but not able to say it out loud, cuddling, lady jessica being a c*ckblock/heartbreaker

***

In the face of change, of being pushed into the final phase of growing up, Paul wanted to cling to you like a lifeline. To the gentle rhythm that once existed between him and you, the one he felt becoming more and more unbalanced as the world around dumped expectations on you both. He almost had not noticed it happening at first. You had grown up beside him, a constant presence, and yet now, each time he glanced your way, he was increasingly aware of what could be taken from him. He was only just beginning to grasp how much he cared for you, and the idea that you might feel like you did not belong here, or worse, being shown you do not, made something twist deep inside him.

Sitting beside you in the library, Paul could hear his mother’s words – sharp and pointed, even as he believed they were meant to guide. His whole body felt tense, not because of Jessica’s talk of duty, or the future he would soon shoulder, but because of you. Because he knew what her gaze did to you, how it picked at the part of you that never felt enough. When Jessica moved on to discuss personal relationships, the weight of her underlying meaning came pressing down, and Paul could barely keep his attention on her. His eyes flicked toward you, searching for any sign that her words were cutting too deep. Even when scolded himself, all he could think about is how it would affect you.

He hated this. Hated the way his mother’s eyes would linger on you, as though you were being measured and found wanting. It wasn’t true, but he knew you felt it. He could see it in the way you lowered your head, trying to hide from the sharpness of her tone. His jaw clenched. You were not some distraction, you were his best friend, and that should count for something. You were the reason he could breathe when it all felt either too small or too big.

When the speech was finally over and Jessica left them alone, Paul let out a breath, half-realising he did not listen to a word she said towards the end. The silence between the two of you felt heavy, thicker than it should have been. You should have been able to laugh it off together, snicker at his mother’s dramatics, but he knew you would not do that anymore. He risked a glance at you. His heart sinking at the way you avoided looking back. 

“She didn’t mean it like that,” he said, voice low, unsure how else to cut through the tension. When you didn’t respond, he moved closer, needing to bridge the growing distance. “She’s just worried. That’s all. My mother –”

“Your mother is always worried,” you cut in sharply, and Paul flinched. The tone in your voice was one you rarely ever used on him, only in your worst moments. He knew what it meant. You were pulling away, not just from the conversation, but from him. He could feel it. He wanted to stop it, wanted to reach out and pull you back to where you belonged, beside him. “Maybe she has a point. I’ve been distracting you. I shouldn’t... I shouldn’t keep coming to you.”

No.

Paul’s chest tightened as you began to move, began to slip from his grasp. Before he could even think, his hands moved on their own, gently but firmly gripping yours, desperate to ground you. “No,” he said aloud, his voice more forceful than he intended. “You haven’t been distracting me. You’ve... you’ve been keeping me sane. It’s not the same thing.”

He didn’t have the words. Not really. Not for what he was trying to say. All he needed was for you to understand, to know how important you were to him, but no words were worthy in the moment. His mother could never see it the way he did, she was too caught up in her visions for his future to realise when the only future he cared about was right in front of his nose. She didn’t understand how all the qualities that could make him a good duke were the ones you brought out of him.

He could see your brows twitch in the way they do when you are holding back tears. “But your mother thinks –”

“I don’t care what my mother thinks.”

The words tumbled out before he could stop them, and for a brief moment, Paul felt a surge of panic. He blinked, startled by his own admission that he had not realised rang so true for him, but he didn’t let go of your hands. His grip tightened slightly, and he looked at you, willing you to understand all he could not say. “I don’t care what she thinks about the time we spend together,” he continued, trying to keep his voice level. “She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning, like the world’s pressing in from every side, and you’re just. Alone.”

She doesn’t know you’re the lifeboat. 

“Whenever I’m with you, it’s the only time I don’t feel that way,” he confessed, his voice raw. He was laying it all out, unsure if he was saying the right things or making things worse, but he couldn’t stop himself. It felt like he was pleading a case. “You’re not a distraction. You’re the only thing that keeps me steady.”

He saw the way your eyes briefly squeezed shut, the blush still remaining in your cheeks, the slightly quivering curve of your mouth, all that internal struggle on your beautiful face. It tore him apart. You wanted to argue, he could see that, but something held you back. Paul wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. He felt you giving up instead of giving in, as you softly said, “We just need to be more careful.”

Careful. That word grated against his every instinct. Paul didn’t want careful. He wanted you, the way you had always been – close, inseparable. 

But then you said, “We can’t keep hiding away in each other’s rooms. We can’t... we can’t keep acting like kids.”

Paul’s heart sank, his body sagging slightly as he was giving up, too. Not on you, on himself, on his situation. He rubbed at his face, trying to shake the helplessness threatening to take over. You were right, but it felt painfully wrong.

“But we’re not acting like kids,” he muttered, trying to keep you from slipping too far away. 

“Aren’t we?” you whispered, your voice filled with something that sounded like heartbreak. “We’re literally sneaking into each other’s beds in the middle of the night, Paul. We’re still pretending like nothing’s changed.”

Paul didn’t have a response. Not immediately, too caught up with the ache in his chest as his disturbance turned existential. Why must sharing a close connection with someone, being tethered by someone, be a thing of only childhood? He felt he needed it more and more the older he got. Yet, he knew better than anyone all he had to do and all he had to be, and that it was time to step up to the challenge. But that didn’t mean he wanted to lose this, lose you, at least this part of you it felt he had always possessed. The idea that things had to change, that you couldn’t be the way you had always been – it was unbearable.

“Nothing has changed though,” he finally said, aiming for conviction. “Not between us.”

Deep down, Paul knew you were right. Everything had changed, just not in the way you were currently discussing, and he didn’t know what to do with it. He was not ready to face it. 

When you stood up to leave, the panic flared again in his chest. He wanted to reach for you, to stop you, to pull you back down beside him. Show you why you had to stay. He did anything but, he could only watch as you walked away, leaving him behind with the oppressive atmosphere of the library. His finger tips lingered on your seat as he clung to your promise: I will see you tomorrow. Even that small promise felt like a lifeline made of plastic.

Paul stared at the spot where you left, the weight of the future settling heavily on his shoulders. 

The following weeks, Paul did everything in his power to bury the gnawing unease that twisted inside him. He cherry-picked from his continuing lectures from his mother, trying to keep only the positives and leave out all the doom everyone seemed to hand him these days. The tension that hung between you only worsened in the silence of the castle’s long nights. You had always shared a restlessness after dark, a sort of curse that made sleep seem impossible unless you were together. But after his mother’s warnings about appearances and responsibilities, Paul felt obligated to put distance between you, to keep his emotions in check. At least for as long as you claimed that was what you wanted, too.

God, he hated it.

At first, he tried to do everything right, tried to focus more on his studies, his duties, his pretenses. He could not afford to slip up, not when he was being watched so closely, not when he was meant to prove himself a future Duke. But the more he tried to be the person he was expected to be, the more he felt himself, Paul, not the future duke of House Atreides, unraveling. 

Every moment spent apart from you gnawed at him, like a thread slowly being pulled loose from the fabric of his mind. His concentration splintered; during meetings, his eyes trailed to the door, wondering if you would ever walk in, during training, his movements felt sluggish, his mind always wandering to whether you were okay, whether you missed him too.

The longer you kept your distance, the harder it became to focus on anything but you and the looming elephant that was your friendship.

He soaked up every interaction you had like a parched man trying to survive in the desert. Even something as simple as sitting beside you during meals or brushing past you in the hallways felt like a lifeline. He clung to those moments, storing them away like precious memories, replaying them in his mind when he found himself alone. He knew you still saw each other a relatively normal amount, the amount usual friends dedicate to each other – but it was far from enough.

During it all you kept up your facade too well for Paul’s state. It was like you practiced it all when you could not sleep at night, you were polite, composed, like nothing had changed between you. Paul knew you better, of course. He could see through it, see the cracks forming beneath the surface. The bags forming under your eyes, the strain on your smiles, the flickering of your gaze when met by any member of the Atreides family now. You were just as affected by this distance as he was, but you were better at hiding it from everyone but him. It only made him want to reach out more, to break through that wall, to remind you that you didn’t have to carry this alone.

Paul sat beside you at the long wooden table in the dining hall, trying to act as though nothing had changed. The usual hum of formalities and business between his tutors, his mother, and the few remaining nobles blurred into a background buzz. All of it felt irrelevant compared to the tension sitting between you and him. He tried to tell himself the change was not that large, out of all the seats in the room, you were still sat together. 

He sneaked a glance at you from the corner of his eye. You were sitting perfectly still, your posture as composed and graceful as you had been trained to be, eyes downcast as you picked at the meal in front of you. On the surface, you looked calm, indifferent even, but Paul could see it so easily. The way your fingers gripped your knife a little too tight, the way your shoulders tensed as if trying to make yourself smaller, invisible. It’s not the same.

Despite his appetite having long since vanished, Paul tried to take a bite of his food. Beside him, you sipped your water, eyes flicking up just once to meet his before darting away again. The briefest connection, but it hit him like a shockwave. He was desperate for more of you, the real you, not this version that was carefully packaged to meet the standards of the room.

A thought ran through his head and before he could compose himself, Paul’s foot nudged yours lightly under the table. A small, almost childlike gesture. His heart raced, wondering if you would acknowledge it, if you would look at him like you used to. When you glanced his way, a flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, a sign that you were still there, but it withered away fast.

You straightened in your seat, breaking eye contact, your attention turning back to your plate. A clear signal that you couldn’t do this, not here. Not now.

Paul’s stomach twisted, and he gripped his fork tighter, his knuckles white against the silver. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. There had been no distance between you before. You used to laugh together, share inside jokes over dinners like this. You used to sneak glances that said everything without needing words. Now, there was just this unbearable restraint. The longer it stretched on, the more suffocating it became.

He wanted so desperately to just be your best friend again, like when you were younger, when things were simple. When sharing a bed was not plagued by conventions or the expectations of his mother. Back then, it had been about adventure and laughter. Now it was about survival for poor Paul, it was all he needed to secure him. He wanted you to know how much he cared, how much he needed you. 

He remained silent.

When night fell, it became unbearable. Alone in his room, Paul felt the weight of everything pressing down on him—the responsibilities, the expectations, the growing distance between the two of you. Sleep evaded him. Each night felt longer than the last, and the silence of the castle, once comforting, now felt suffocating. 

He thought of you constantly. 

He wondered if you were having nightmares, the way you always did when there were no storms to distract you. You never reacted well to the stillness of nights like this, and Paul knew it. He knew you too well. 

Should I go to her? 

The thought flickered in his mind more than once, the worry gnawing at him more than usual, but something held him back. His mother’s words still lingered in the air between you, but more importantly your words. You asked for space, even if the reasons felt as tragic to him as they did. He could not risk making things worse, could not risk losing you completely by overstepping. Nevertheless, the longer he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the more unbearable the thought of doing nothing became.

The hours drifted on, whisking away into the night air streaming in through his cracked open window. He had zeroed in on the sound in hopes it could form a lullaby, but to no avail. In the silence of his room, he heard footsteps in the hallway.

Before he could finish thinking, he was up and out of bed, hand on the door. He was fully expecting to open the door and be met with a wall of nothingness, forced to face how truly delerious he was becoming, but the possibility of any other outcome made him throw the door open without hesitation. 

His pounding heart all but lit up as he saw you standing in the doorway, almost hidden in the darkness. Surprise was etched onto your features and your hand was half-raised, presumably to knock on the door. A relieved smile made it onto your lips, and Paul briefly wondered whether you were aware, or if it was instinct. He breathed your name as a silent thank you to whatever forces brought you back to his doorstep.

In the half-shadows, you looked haunted, and he immediately stepped to the side to make room for you to step back into his world. He had been waiting for you. Hoping, somehow, that you would come to him, that you still needed him the way he needed you. 

You slipped inside quietly, and Paul closed the door behind you, sealing the two of you away from everything – his mother, the expectations, the fear that had been building between you for weeks. His chest tightened as he watched you, taking in the way your shoulders tensed, the way your eyes flicked to his like you weren’t sure if you should be here.

Paul had never been more certain of anything. He needed you here. 

As if your muscle memory controlled your actions, you moved toward the bed, and Paul followed hot on your heels, not willing to let you get too far away from him. There were no words, but there didn’t need to be. You both knew what this was. 

As he watched you climb into his bed, Paul felt something settle in his chest, something that had been fraying ever since the distance had started growing between you. He slid in beside you, immediately wrapping his arm as tightly around your waist as viable and pulling you close.

The quiet of his room that had just felt so suffocating now felt like a refuge. You were his anchor, his constant. For the first time in what felt like forever, the world outside didn’t feel so heavy. 

He heard your breathing slow as you nestled against him, your head resting on his chest. Without any real thought behind the action, he buried his nose in your hair and breathed you in, feeling every part of his body that was touching yours. He could feel the tremors in your body start to fade, and with them, the knot of worry that had been coiling tighter and tighter inside him began to loosen.

“Are you okay?” Paul whispered, his voice soft, almost afraid of shattering the moment.

You nodded against him, but Paul could feel the weakness in the movement, could feel the words you did not say. In response he held you tighter, his thumb tracing slow, gentle circles on your arm, offering comfort in the only way he knew how.

“I’m glad you came,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it almost didn’t reach his own ears. He had not realized how much he needed to say it until the words were out. “I wanted to come to you, but—” He trailed off, guilt wracking his mind while trying to somehow silence yours. His hand began to trace up and down your bare arm, needing to feel the warmth of your skin to remind himself that you were real, that this moment was real.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice hoarse with emotion. “I wanted to come sooner.”

Paul didn’t say anything, but his heart ached at the truth in your words. You had wanted to come sooner, but something had kept you back. The same thing that had kept him pacing his room, wondering if he should break the unspoken rules and go to you. Although he had always known, being told that the distance was killing you too felt oddly good.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence between you now felt different, like the quiet after a storm, when the air is charged but peaceful. Paul’s hand drifted up to gently stroke your hair, the motion instinctual, as his other hand held your waist. It was one of the most intimate embraces you had had, and it felt so right, to the point where he did not even question it. He wanted to offer you more than comfort, more than just a place to escape your nightmares. He wanted to give you the world, guaranteed safety. Not just a reprieve or a shelter, but a true home, a good life. But the words weren’t there yet. He didn’t know how to say the way he cared for you, that it was more than just… caring. That you were the only person who had ever made him feel like everything might be okay.

Instead, he whispered, “I’ll always be here. I swear it.” It was close enough for now.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim candlelight, burning low. For a moment, Paul’s breath caught in his throat. He saw everything in that look – your fear, your doubt, your hope. Your care. He craved to kiss you, to close the distance that still felt like it hung between you. Instead, he pressed his lips to the top of your head, a tender, quiet gesture that said everything he couldn’t yet.

Neither of you spoke after that. You simply held each other, the world outside disappearing as you both drifted into a peaceful sleep. Paul finally felt safe.

[multific]

A Love Without Words

Paul Atreides x Mute!Reader

Summary: Destiny has its way to make us suffer. It gives us power but it can take it away just as easily. 

You and Paul grew up together.

It was decided at a young age that you were to become his wife when the time comes.

Lady Jessica remembered the day he took his young boy, barely two years old into the healers where you were just born. 

Lady Jessica remembered the day he told his son that the baby laying in the crib will be his wife. 

Paul didn't understand it back then. Of course, he didn't, he was too young.

You soon grew up to be a strong woman, strong with the Voice. Your power and ability to use the Voice became evident at a young age.

You loved to sing as well.

It is how Paul fell in love with you. One morning, he heard a voice, oh so sweet, singing. He knew he needed to find the person. He needed to know who it was. And he found you. Baking away as you sang. Paul was only sixteen, yet he found the love of his life.

---

But then, things turned for the worst. On your sixteenth birthday, you celebrated with your family.

Your family was attacked.

The Duke himself went to help but it was all in vain. Your parents were dead, and they found you in terrible conditions.

"My Lady, she is stable now, her vitals are good but... My Lady... she lost her voice." Paul and her mother looked at the nurse as she handed them a note.

'I tried to save them, I used the Voice but I failed. And now, I lost my parents and the Voice.'

Paul looked up at the nurse, demanding answers.

"She can't speak anymore, she had gone mute."

Mute.

Your beautiful voice.

Your songs.

Were all gone?

The voice that made him laugh and smile. The voice that talked so sweetly to him.

Was it truly gone?

Paul looked at his mother who had sadness in her eyes.

All she could say was "At least she is still alive."

But it was no comfort for Paul.

He headed into the room, finding you alone in bed, but you weren't sleeping.

He didn't say anything, he didn't know what to say.

So, he sat down beside your bed and held your hand as you silently cried.

Paul wanted nothing more than to burn the world. The world that took so much from you. 

You swore on that hospital bed that no matter what, you won't let this fully break you.

It is what your attackers would have wanted, and you weren't going to give them the satisfaction of winning.

They came into your home to kill you and your family due to your closeness to the Duke. Everyone knew about your engagement to Paul, and they wanted to attack where it would hurt.

And it hurt. 

It really did hurt Paul.

You were moved into his room, his mother decided to marry you to him earlier. Saying in order to keep your title and the power your House once had, you had to be married.

It was disgusting to hear that after the day of your attack, many nobles offered their daughters up for marriage to Paul.

But there you were, only a week after you buried your parents and your voice, you were standing in a white dress getting married. 

You tried to be happy, after all, you did love Paul with all of your heart. 

But you were still grieving.

Slowly, you started to heal, Paul and Lady Jessica did help you a lot. While the Lady tried to help you get your voice back, Paul wanted you to accept the fact that you lost it.

You felt like you were pulled in two directions.

Then the following week, during your daily training with Lady Jessica, you finally had enough.

'I don't wish to continue. I lost my voice and I'm coming to terms with it, Paul helps a lot. I understand that the Voice is a gift. Unfortunately, I have lost my gift, so I'm trying to find a new purpose.'

Read the note you handed to Lady Jessica before exiting the room.

She didn't argue. She knew she was holding onto something which she couldn't save. She knew, but at least you both tried.

Now, you needed a new purpose, and motivation to keep you going. And you found it in Paul. 

Paul was a kind soul. Attentive, affectionate and caring. He loved you like no other. 

And you loved him. You loved that even though you were only a shadow of the woman you once were, he loved you.

You often found yourself in the library, reading or by the window looking out.

Your daily routine was simple. And every day you had dinner with your now-family. The Duke, Lady Jessica and Paul. 

You never really paid attention to the conversations, it was mainly the Duke speaking with Paul 

Then, during one dinner, something caught your attention. Something the Duke said.

A child.

The Duke asked Paul when does he plan on having a child, an heir. 

It shocked you. It really did.

Considering that you and Paul only spent one night intimate. It was the best night of your life. Even if he said he didn't have any experience, you didn't mind. 

You were still rather nervous around him.

Thankfully you had your notepad with you. Everyone watched as you wrote something before a servant stepped up and you handed him the note. He read it out loud.

"It was rather difficult for my mother to conceive. It is why I am an only child. I'm afraid I might have the same difficulty, My Duke. I sincerely apologise." as he finished you bowed your head and everyone was so speechless it made you nervous. You did just admit to a flaw in your bloodline. But it would be better for them to know. You motioned for the servant who gave you back the notebook and you wrote. "I do wish to be a mother, however. But I do not want to rush my husband with such duty. My mother often said, 'It will happen when the time is right.'" 

"You are such a sweetheart, Y/N." said the Duke. "I remember your father often reminding me of your mother's... issues. I simply asked because the council was also curious. I do understand however, it is not their place to ask."

You knew that a baby could be a good purpose for you. But you also didn't want to have a baby and then have this feeling of only giving birth because you lost your purpose. You wished to have a child out of love, not duty.

While you did understand it was one of your duties. You also didn't wish the child to have this sense that you only gave birth because of that reason.

And somehow Paul understood that. But he also desperately wanted to give you more. Give you his voice in exchange for yours. He wanted to give you the entire Galaxy.

It is why he spoke up and told his father, when you two are ready for a child, you shall have one.

You appreciated Paul taking your side.

Later that evening, you were in the bath, enjoying the water before Paul would soon return.

You smiled to yourself, imagining a young boy, hair like Paul's running around, giggling and calling you Mommy.

It was beautiful.

But you knew you had a low chance. And babies are supposed to hear their mommies talk.

You will never be able to do that. And it hurt. 

You really needed something to take up your mind. You felt like you have read every book in there. You felt like you explored all rooms.

You sank deeper into the tub when your servants arrived and helped you clean and got you dressed. 

"How was your day?" asked Paul as he entered the room and sat down on your shared bed. You offered him a smile and a nod. "Great, I have a surprise for you." 

You grabbed your note, 'Now?'

"I was supposed to wait until tomorrow morning, but I can't."

He grabbed your hand and guided you down the halls and into the garden, there you noticed something in the back.

It looked like a...

Paul guided you closer. It was harder to see in the dark.

It was a green house, made out purely from glass. 

"I just thought... Mother said ladies usually enjoy gardens and flowers and I thought you might like it." you silently walked inside, looking at all the possibilities as all trays were still empty.

Paul stood in silence as he watched you looking around. You soon noticed a corner where there were sofas placed. You walked over and soon turned to paul.

'Is this for me?'

"Of course! You can decorate or plant however you like. Tomorrow a planner will come and you can tell her what you would like."

'This is wonderful, Paul.'

"I know you have been feeling lost since your voice and parents were taken from you. I hope this will give you a new goal to take your mind off of things."

You wanted to cry, you walked over to him and hugged him. Silently thanking him.

"I hope, every time I come in here I will see you smile." you pulled away and smiled at him. He smiled back. "I love you so much, Y/N."

You placed your palm on his heart.

It was your way of telling him that you felt the same, that you loved him just as much.

It might have been a love without words, but Paul understood it perfectly.

Your eyes shined every time you looked at him, your smile was always so kind and pure.

He slowly leaned down to kiss your perfect lips. 

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[demon-of-the-ancient-world]

Fine, whatever. Paul Atreides playlist.

Arsonist's Lullabye - Hozier Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd Some Nights - Fun Broken Crown - Mumford & Sons Sail - Awolnation Castles Crumbling - Taylor Swift Time to Pretend - MGMT Help I'm Alive - Metric Hurt - Johnny Cash The Pure and the Damned - Oneohtrix Point Never ft. Iggy Pop Eclipse - Pink Floyd

@fuckyeahisawthat can i tag you in this

[jolenes-doppelganger]

hi! so I have this idea that won't leave my mind about a fanfic/story between lady jessica x fem! reader. basically reader is part of one of the great houses and she married duke leto because of a political alliance. jessica was already leto’s concubine and paul had already been born too.

the relationship between reader and jessica was never the best one. jessica always had this pet peeve with reader, maybe jealousy because she was married with leto, but reader never wanted to be married with him and never had romantic feelings for him too.

they relationship began to change when they come to arrakis, specifically when they are left in the desert to die (is “saved” by the harkonnen also because he is a member of one of the great houses).

jessica sees the reader as the only thing left of what she called home, then she starts to develop feelings. reader already had some “strange” feelings for jessica, like a devotion/admiration to a goddess.

– s

ps: i’m the same person who requested the jessica x fem! corrino reader.

[Hi Anon! Keeping me busy, I see :)]

Riptides

Lady Jessica x Fem! Duchess Reader

Summary: The past haunts. It puts things both bad and good into perspective. Whether it is to mend or to separate, that is entirely up to the doer.

Warnings: None, just overall angsty. (Hurt + Comfort).

A/N: This work is contrived of ‘ficlets’. Plain text moves linearly, set in Dune II after Jamis has been killed. Italicized text does not move linearly, pertaining to snapshots of the past. R is the sister of Lord Fenring, not shown in the movie. (This is not a white or perceived to be white character, it is as self-insert as possible). I also did my best to lean into realism, (less R admiration of Jessica, more conflict), as it is more my style. !!! I really, really, really, really like exploring true characterization or playing around with characters, so this is a very angsty fic !!! (Alia steals the show, again).

Word Count: 4.2k

Paul was an uneasy sleeper. Looking at Jessica as she twitched in the Fremen tent, you realized just where he had gotten it from. Jessica was coated in sweat. Paul was the furthest away from you. It was a sad truth that neither of them ever really warmed up to you. And how could you blame them? The marriage to House Atreides was nothing you’d ever asked for. It just was. But Jessica couldn’t understand that. And you wouldn’t try to make her understand that. Perhaps if things had gone differently from the start, perhaps if you’d been given the opportunity to make her acquaintance before you were dragged to the marital bed… None of it mattered.

Jessica twitched again, an unpleasant dream. The duke was dead. Your protection was gone, and by some miracle you’d made it with the other two out of the desert and into the path of the Fremen. Paul had fought for his right to live, Jessica had bested Stilgar, then killed Jamis to protect him and his mother’s right in the Fremen, but you? The best you had was the Bene Gesserit training given to all noble women of high ranking houses. A Sayyadina, like Jessica. It put you in a poor place with the Fremen.

“Hnnmm-” Jessica jerked.

You looked at her, analyzing her facial expressions. Her eyes flew open, and she sat up, lunging.

“Jessi-”

Her hands gripped your shoulder as she pushed you down, prepared to strike. The dim light of the eclipse halted her motions.

“Oh.” she gasped.

Her blue eyes were wide, and afraid. It must have been a hell of a dream.

“All this time and I still forget there’s three of us.” 

Loud voices came from inside the Duke’s chambers. He’d called you here, supposedly to meet with Jessica. Your earlier interactions were never pleasant, she was clipped with you.

“Jessica, please. She is a political ally and another route of maintaining peace upon Arrakis.” Duke Leto reasoned with his concubine.

“And a force of contention in this house! She is slow to learn the Fremen ways, slow to develop relationships with the house staff, and worse, her closest friend is a teenage boy.”

“Paul is close to her age it is reasonable-”

“Yes. They are close in age. I wonder why that is.”

Duke Leto didn’t answer, rather he opened the door, gesturing you inside. You wore thin, flowy clothing, similar to the clothing worn in House Fenring. It was far less conservative than Jessica’s, and you supposed that was a mistake in and of itself. The Duke paid no attention to your clothes. One night to seal your marriage, as was custom. The Bene Gesserit had already decided you would not bear an Atreides child. You slept with him the night after your period had ended. No child would have been conceived, no heir above Paul.

“There are three of us in this marriage.” Leto spoke. “For better or worse, we need to remain as one unit,” he made a circular gesture with his hands, “And that cannot happen without work to build the cohesion between the two of you.”

Jessica’s eyes were bright, intense, her mouth drawn into a thinly concealed scowl.

“Lady Jessica,” you began. “If it is my friendship with Paul that worries you, I will end it.”

Jessica gave one last look at her Duke, leaving before she had spoken a word to you. 

Jessica crouched in the sand, taking refuge from the heat in a cluster of boulders. You couldn’t blame her, she was nauseous. The babe produced nausea as it was, but the sight of water collection from several still living Harkonnens couldn’t have made it any better. She looked green, practically, having thrown up in the sand. Stilgar had scooped it into a bag, attaching it to a pack. No waste. But the lack of water wasn’t going to help her.

“Jessica.” you murmured, crouching beside her on the ground. “Here.”

You exposed the straw from your suit, offering it to her.

“I can’t accept it.” Jessica shook her head.

“It’s a gift for my future step-daughter. You can and you will.”

Jessica didn’t really mean it when she refused the water. She knew you’d press the issue, and she’d accept. She needed the water, and you could do without a little water for a little while. The only issue was that it required bringing her face close to you, which she did. The water was warm. The same temperature as your body, but it did the trick. She drank a few mouthfuls of water, more than she needed, but you didn’t object. She’d take what she could get from you, although her mindset was starting to change.

“The young Lady Fenring, sister of Lord Fenring.” Reverend Gauis Helen Mohiam drawled. “The Bene Gesserit have secured you a marriage…”

So that was what she was here for? A marriage was reasonable, you were of the age to be used to further the Bene Gesserit breeding program. 

“There’s a catch.” the Reverend spoke, holding her hand up to prevent you from assenting. “The union is childless.”

Your mouth snapped shut. A childless marriage? What kind of a thing was that? The Bene Gesserit was better off training you to be a junior reverend than marrying you to a man without birthing a child. What of the breeding programme? What of the needed changes to be made to the bloodlines with the Atreides resistance?

“You will be our spy. There are many eyes upon House Atreides, but we need eyes from inside.”

“What of Lady Jessica, your reverence?”

Helen Mohiam chuffed at that.

“Lady Jessica has served her own purpose since she fell in love with her Duke. One of my best pupils, one of my worst failures. You are young, unswayed by the love of men, swayed by the approval and service to your sisters of the Bene Gesserit. You will serve us well there.”

Taking a breath in, you nodded once.

“I assume Lady Jessica is not to be made aware of this?”

“Lady Jessica should never know of the master you serve. Your duty is to play the role of a jealous wife. Distance between Jessica and you is the only way our intel can be confirmed. Do not get close. Never, ever, give her reason to suspect you are anything but madly in love with the Duke Atreides.”

“You never cried over my father.” Paul murmured to you, sitting on a dune during nightfall.

It was peaceful tonight. The dunes of Arrakis were calm, without wind whipping over the sand, without the whirr of Harkonnen machinery.

“The Fremen don’t waste water. We are Fremen.”

“No. Before. In the tent we slept in before Duncan found us, you did not cry. You were scared, and upset, but you…”

“I never loved your father. I was his wife in name and rank. But I never loved him.” you admitted, not looking at him.

Paul went quiet. He was a deep thinker, like his father. An inner monologue that only they were privy to playing in their head at all moments, a monologue that very rarely came to the surface.

“I knew your father for six months. We were married in a time of great uncertainty for your house, a time of great uncertainty for the Bene Gesserit and Landsraad. There was no time to love him. But I respected him.”

Paul gave a bob of his head. There was sand in his hair. You reached over, shaking it clean. His hair was getting long.

“You need a haircut.” 

“The Fremen don’t all have short hair.”

“Long hair on the warmest part of your head, the head that is most directly exposed to the sun, is a poor idea. Give me your crysknife.”

“It’s ceremonial.” Paul corrected, offended. “And Jessica has long hair, as does Chani.”

You sighed. That it was. They were only drawn when someone was to die, or when handed down from one individual to another. It would be borderline sacrilegious to use it for a haircut. Chani had thick hair, like the Fremen, and Paul had thick hair too, but he was complaining of headaches, from adjustment to the desert climate, you assumed.

“I’m cutting it off.” you decided.

One of the fremen had an iron knife, generally used for cooking. You cut Paul’s hair, leaving the top of his head longer and the sides short. You bagged the hair.

“Do you want to keep it?” you asked the boy.

“Hair doesn’t hold water.”

“It’s said to hold memory.” you murmured. “Do you want to keep it?”

Paul shook his head. He had enough memories in his head to remain unbothered with those from a scrap of hair.

“I’ll keep it.” Jessica murmured, reaching forward for the bag of hair.

She tucked it away in a pouch on her stillsuit. She seemed equally sentimental as she was a bit sad.

“I had a trimming of his baby hair.” Jessica murmured, brow furrowed. “It would have been burned with the rest of Arrakeen.”

You looked up at her, and then nodded once. A box of sentimental items was something you and Jessica seemed to share. Both went up in flames with the Arrakis city. The only thing left of your lives before being the both of you and Paul. Jessica settled beside you, sitting on the dune with you. She was deep in thought, and for good reason. The past was a territory she chartered regularly, for better or worse. 

“Were we ever competing for Leto?” Jessica asked, voice soft, and yet tinged with a scratchiness caused by water retention.

The thought itself was a sad one, and a bit difficult to answer. The Bene Gesserit order had dictated that you play the role of the devoted spouse. It was under their orders that you’d romance Leto, vying for his attention, for his trust, for his innermost thoughts; those that were not as secret as he may have believed. Perhaps you’d played a role in the downfall of House Atreides? No. Not perhaps. The information you’d provided the Reverend Mother had led to the Emperor’s decision to exterminate House Atreides. Of course you had never known it was the plan of the order, but… How much of the fall of House Atreides were you responsible for.

“I…”

Tears sprung in your eyes. Tears you couldn’t cry, a waste of a body’s water. And yet your chest ached. The muscles in your throat contracted painfully, and you blinked rapidly to dispel the tears. Tension grew in your lungs as your body fought against sobs.

“Oh.” Jessica said.

Oh.

Oh? That was all?

Leto rolled in his sleep, wet breath ghosting over your bare shoulder. You’d assumed he’d leave after the marital act, returning to his bed with Jessica, but he hadn’t. Rather, the man had slumped over into the bed, closing his eyes and letting out a weary sigh, as if to say ‘it’s done’. There was wetness between your thighs; wetness that you weren’t responsible for. Sure, you’d forced your body into being wet enough to take the Duke of House Atreides, but this particular remnant was not yours. It disturbed you.

The cool of the washroom felt heavenly, and you were grateful for the stone walls and the shades over the windows. Castle Atreides was wet, the rain of the ocean planet keeping a humidity in the air that would corrode traditional drywall. Not that the staff didn’t keep things spotless, but in most other circumstances, one could have fretted over black mold.

“What are you doing?” a deep baritone voice ghosted in the bathroom.

You were in the middle of scrubbing your skin clean, trying to rid yourself of the act.

“... Bathing.” you answered the Duke Leto.

He stared down at you for sometime.

“I shared the post-coital bath with Lady Jessica on our first night.” he mused.

“I am not her.” you replied, voice taut with a bit of discomfort.

Leto nodded, and without waiting for permission, he stepped inside the bath with you. It was a show of equality, giving you what he had given her. But it was wrong, in a lot of ways. You didn’t deserve his equality, even though the Bene Gesserit tasked you with taking more than equal share of his love.

“Does my age bother you?” Leto finally broke the silence.

“No.” you answered quickly. “It’s not about age, it’s about-”

“-Duty?” Leto cut you off.

You nodded once. The Duke of Caladan was attractive. No question about it. A chiseled jaw, a firm, strong build and commanding manner, he looked good for his age. Better than some men your age. There was appeal in his maturity, but appeal was besides the point.

“Should I expect this again?” he asked. “Should I expect to begin… Conception efforts?

The very words made you want to crawl out of your skin, and it was apparent on your face. So apparent was your discomfort that Leto let out a raspy laugh, shaking his head.

“So that’s a no.” Leto answered his own question.

“The Bene Gesserit wish that Paul remain the sole heir to your house.”

“They won’t have you bear even a daughter?” Leto asked in confusion.

You took a breath. Discussing the aims of your Sisterhood was not something you were allowed to do, but something Leto was confident enough in doing. It was because of Jessica. She had given him too much power, too much knowledge. Hence why he questioned you with such brazen authority.

“The aims of my Sisterhood are not to be discussed with my husband.”

“Well then I expect the same.” Leto darkly murmured.

The same? The concept baffled you. To speak about the Bene Gesserit to your husband was, by nature, against your orders. And to speak of your husband to the Bene Gesserit was your duty. 

“I… Cannot give you that.” you murmured.

“I will annul the marriage.”

The thought frightened you. For you to lose the marriage to House Atreides was of the highest failure. You would lose so much. Political rank, status in the Bene Gesserit… It could mean exile.

“Please, this is my duty we are discussing. I wouldn’t even be married to you without the Bene Gesserit.” you tried to explain.

“No, no you would not. And I wouldn’t even need the political stability from this marriage if it wasn’t for the Bene Gesserit. If you damn me with your meddling, I have no choice but to damn you.” Leto spoke, authoritarian commands reverberating off of the wall.

He was your husband, yes. But this was the Duke of Caladan and House Atreides you were talking to. He was a powerhouse, a force that could do just short of bending wind to his aims.

“I have a people to protect, a son.” Leto continued, eyes ablaze with ruthless determination. “You are new to this house. If it comes between choosing my son and my family’s protection over political stability, I will make that choice. Now promise me that you will not speak of me to the Bene Gesserit.”

“Duke Leto...”

“Promise me!”

His voice echoed off of the stone walls, crashing into you again and again. Your lower lip trembled. Duke Leto Atreides was not a bully, but he was a father. And sometimes those lines could blur.

“I promise.” you whispered, eyes wide and afraid.

Duke Leto visibly slackened in the tub, taking a deep breath in and releasing it. 

“I’ve scared you. I will take my leave of you, if that is what you wish.”

You gave one small nod, and Leto stood, leaving the tub and exiting the washroom. Perhaps if he’d maintained that iron grasp over you from the first night, perhaps if he’d inspired love, devotion, trust in him that Jessica had been privy too for over a decade… Perhaps if you had kept your promise, none of this would have happened.

The sietch was quiet. Unnaturally so. Jessica could feel the humidity with every breath she took. She hated it, for a myriad of reasons. Namely because it was like some perverted, hellish imitation of the humidity of her home Caladan. Not one breath she took had the cool taste of salt, all of it stank of bodies. Her stillsuit was a natural filter, and it sucked the moisture off of her skin, mostly. The residual moisture to cool the body made her feel itchy. All the time.

Paul was sleeping. He was an unusually light sleeper, always had been. But in the Fremen ranks, he slept deeply. It meant something, his relaxation, but Jessica was too bereaved to care on this particular night. Bereaved by the loss of Leto, the loss of her home world and safety, but also by the second body that lay beside her. Jessica was disturbed by the Duchess Atreides, former Lady Fenring, not to be confused with Margot Fenring. Paul had brought up a point, about her crying. The Duchess had never cried, not once. The despair of the burning city of Arakeen, the death of Duke Leto, the confusion and panic; none of it had brought a tear to her eye. But that simple question over competition had brought out an almost haunted reaction from her, and fostered a sadistic fascination inside Jessica. Jessica knew the language of the body. She knew the cues and the faces one might make in different emotions, she’d been taught this. The duchess had been ashamed. Guilty, crippled with some unseen burden. Perhaps it was time that Jessica dug into that.

“I can hear you’re awake.” Jessica murmured, reaching up to stroke a hand through her companion’s hair.

The gesture itself was false. Jessica wasn’t intending to be kind, or comforting at this moment. She wanted answers.

“I can’t sleep.” came the response.

Jessica hummed at this, turning her body to rest against [Reader]’s, spooning the young woman from behind.

“Why?”

You could feel Jessica’s breath on your neck. It was fainter than Leto’s had been. Everything she did, every movement or question the woman asked, it was dissected by you. A game of analysis, the both of you brushing hands in tender show of affection while each sheathed a knife under their sleeve. It was an exhausting and all too familiar game. And perhaps one worth burying, along with the dead.

“It’s my fault that Leto is dead.”

Jessica stiffened, and you could hear the audible slowing of her breath. 

“Explain.” 

There was no time to gather your thoughts. Not these thoughts, anyways.

“The Bene Gesserit tasked me with reporting information regarding House Atreides and their affairs. I told them everything about the Duke, about Paul and about you. For six months.” you admitted, voice growing progressively unsteady as you continued.

It was so difficult not to cry, and you were consumed by grief, guilt, shame. Too consumed to pay attention to the cues Jessica gave as she processed your statement.

“Do you think we didn’t know?”

The sentence was so soft spoken, you almost didn’t catch it.

“What?” you whimpered.

A hand cupped your face. Tenderly, without an ulterior motive.

“Did you think that Leto and I did not guess that you were reporting information back to the Bene Gesserit?” Jessica repeated, voice gentle.

“But I promised him I wouldn’t.” 

Jessica smiled, a soft, achingly sad smile.

“Yes. You promised him, a false promise given under coercion through fear and threat of political exile and potential deposition. I was a Bene Gesserit first, you must remember this. Your loyalty to the Sisterhood was something we factored in, everything we did under your eyes was, in essence, filtered.”

Filtered? They’d been showing you a reality that hadn’t been true? Your breath caught as you processed, hardly breathing as further thoughts raced through your head, memories crowding outward. Did this mean that you never knew them, for all this time? That you never knew your Duke? The man you were wedded to, the man you could’ve loved… You’d never even gotten a fair chance at love with him. Jessica had stacked the odds in her favor before you’d even begun playing the game. Not one moment of affection from him could be trusted, some of the memories you were just now learning to cherish, it had all been a lie.

“No, no, don’t waste your water!” Jessica whispered, desperately trying to prevent you from crying.

It was too late. Tears streamed down your cheeks, salty and concentrated with all kinds of neurotransmitters and other various compounds. Jessica, for her credit, thought fast. Her lips pressed over your cheeks, working quickly to collect the moisture.

“No…” you sobbed.

Jessica cradled your head with one hand, holding your body to her with the other. This was the grief she’d been searching for, the pain. And it wasn’t as satisfying as she wished it could have been. Sure, the games she’d played against you had been for the good of her family, for the good of Atreides, but it wasn’t easy hurting people. It wasn’t easy throwing them under, like a riptide ghosting over the shores of Caladan. But for better or worse, the outcome was the same. You’d both lost things in the feud, in the deceit. Jessica had lost her husband, a husband outside of traditional binds, a husband of the soul. You’d lost your livelihood, your innocence, your… 

As Jessica held you in her arms, she realized just how alike the two of you were. How different things could have been if you met under different circumstances. Jessica didn’t have many allies now. No political connections, no ties to the desert planet and peoples. She had a son, fifteen and burdened with a peculiar, tortured purpose. Jessica had a fetal daughter, stirring and swimming about as she developed, too young to know the danger that awaited. And finally, Jessica had this woman in her arms. A Bene Gesserit, a powerful young woman whom Jessica could work with. An ally, perhaps. A companion, most certainly. A reason to move forward with haste.

“Jessica.” she heard you whimper.

Leaning down, Jessica smiled softly, cupping your face. There was a tear on your upper lip. 

“Yes?”

Another tear fell, but Jessica would wait to collect it, wait for you to speak.

“I’m sorry. For everything.”

She leaned down, collecting the freshly fallen tear on your cheek, and then lower. A soft kiss, the brush of her tongue over the wet upper lip concealed with the plush of her mouth.

“I’m sorry too.”

Her head dipped to yours, and for the first time, Jessica could feel a twin heartbeat, low and rapid. Alia’s tiny, six week heart had begun to beat.

Epilogue

“Alia!” you shouted, chasing after the toddler.

Even with Alia’s higher consciousness, she was young, rambunctious, and as fond as her mother is of games.

“Can’t get me!” Alia squealed, darting through the sietch, moving so fast you could hardly keep up.

The little tot was small, blonde haired as Jessica would have been at her age, and fast. But the robes she wore, the robes of the Sayyadina, were a bit too long for her, meant to grow with the little warrior child. She tripped, and went sprawling over the stone floor of the sietch. Alia cried out, breath immediately speeding up in her body’s attempt to formulate a reactionary cry.

“Oh, honey.” you spoke, wrapping the toddler up in your arms.

Her brown eyes were wide and teary, and she did her best not to sniffle. Alia was, after all, an adult in the body of a child. But that child’s body was filled with child emotions and feelings. Falls hurt a lot, and this fall was probably the worst Alia had experienced so far.

“Hurts.” Alia whimpered. “Can’t… ‘M gonna cry.”

You chuckled, kissing her soft cheeks as the child tried not to cry. You found the scraped knee, gently kissing that too. Soft footsteps came behind you, and two hands encircled your shoulders as Jessica crouched down.

“Did someone fall?” Jessica asked, tone sincere and non-patronizing.

“Yes.” Alia stuck out her bottom lip.

Jessica chuckled, gently taking Alia from your arms. Both you and your companion gently worked to bring Alia down from the pinnacle of tears, soothing her sore knee with kisses. Alia was adorable like this. It was the only time she ever let the two of you baby her.

“Mommies?” Alia asked. “Love you.”

You both smiled, taking terms kissing over her face as she squealed in delight. It was a soft moment during tense times. 

“Alia, should we attack Momma with kisses?” Jessica fake-whispered to Alia.

“YES!” Alia screeched, little hands grabbing at your face as she kissed all over your face and hair. 

Jessica was right with her, holding you in place and kissing over the bridge of your nose, your cheeks, your chin, your neck. And as Alia pulled away to giggle, she snagged your jaw in her hands, pressing a firm kiss to your lips.

“Eww!!!” Alia whined.

Jessica chuckled, and you both doubled down, kissing each other more passionately to mollify the little toddler beneath you. But as you pulled away, you both felt Alia’s hands on your faces, and a wry grin on her tiny cheeks.

“Mommy’s turn!”

Both you and Alia pounced on Jessica, covering the usually stoic woman with kisses until she shrieked with laughter. Time healed a lot of wounds. And the past was something you cherished, almost as much as you cherished the present. Alia made sure of that.

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[starstruckunknown-princess]

Belladonna - Leto Atreides x F!Reader

Belladonna (Atropa belladonna) - Meaning: Silence, betrayal

Summary: Duke Leto's new wife has been neglected. When the Duke finds her under his Swordmaster, he summons her to his office for a talk but it ends up not being what she expected.

Pairing: Leto Atreides x F!Reader, (past fling) Duncan Idaho x F!Reader

Word Count: 918

Warnings: Slight Hurt/Comfort, fluff, Discussion of marital neglect/politically arranged marriage that leads to infidelity, reader has female genitalia but is otherwise not described, slight language, reader tries to appear aloof, Leto is probably OOC, feelings talk, a little husband/wife flirting at the end

Day 4 my loves! This is my first Dune fic and I have only seen the 2021/2024 films and read through some of the Wiki pages so forgive me if there are horrendous inaccuracies. This takes place pre-Dune by about 10 years, so Paul is a kid and Leto is a little younger but still foxy as hell.

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are SUPER appreciated! Thanks for reading <3

The thing about Caladan, you had come to learn, is that no matter where you were in the palace you could always hear the ocean. The crash of waves against the cliff below lulled you to sleep every night since your marriage to Duke Leto about two months ago. Sixty days, of which the Duke had only visited your bedchamber twice. The rest he spent, you assumed, in his chambers with Lady Jessica. 

In fact, you had barely seen him other than your weekly dinners since the wedding. The dinners were silent affairs, you on one end of the long formal dining table and the Duke on the other. Conversation extended no further than pleasantries. You didn’t mind too much — a political marriage like yours wasn’t meant to inspire affection and since the Duke had his concubine and his heir, you were only there to solidify the alliance between Caladan and your home planet, Calypso-9. 

Today, you’d been summoned to his office to discuss yesterday’s incident. 

The incident in which he’d found you underneath his Swordmaster Duncan Idaho in the training room. Half-naked. Writhing and crying in pleasure while Duncan pummeled your cervix with his impressive cock. It had been months since you’d been intimate with someone, and during your self-defense training Duncan’s touches while he corrected your form along with the smell of his sweat and endorphins from the exercise had proven to be too much. You’d given in to your baser instincts, and fuck, did it feel good.

Leto hadn’t said anything, only caught your attention with a loud clear of his throat. When he saw your and Duncan’s eyes on him, all he did was about-face and walk out of the room. 

He maintained the same stoic expression now. His dark eyes bore into yours as he stroked his beard. You had noticed how large his hands were during your wedding ceremony, and you remembered how they felt on you while he dispassionately consummated your union that night. All you could hear were the waves crashing. 

“I think we’re both aware of why I called you here,” he finally said, breaking the silence. 

“You found me fucking Duncan. I apologize if you were offended, my Lord, but I’m not sure why you called me here. Were you offended? Jealous?” You honestly didn’t know why he would want to hash this out between you unless he was going to scold you for being so indiscreet, which you supposed was deserved. 

“What if I was?” He asked, gaze softening before he continued without waiting for your answer, “Even though you and I both know I have no right to be. Our marriage is simply a political arrangement and I have Jessica and Paul while you left your homeworld to come here and be ignored by the husband you never wanted in the first place.” 

Gobsmacked. That was the only way you could describe yourself as you picked your jaw up off the floor. To say you hadn’t expected candor of this level was an understatement.

“I…Apologies, my Lord, but-” 

“Leto.”

“Pardon?”

“You are my wife, there’s no need for formalities. Call me Leto.”

You held back a scoff, turning it into a light sigh instead. “Since this is the second longest conversation we’ve ever had, you’ll forgive my hesitation with familiarities, but alright. Leto,” he nodded gratefully, so you continued, “I don’t fully understand your meaning.” 

“What I mean is I am angry about what I saw yesterday but not for the reasons you may think. I’m not upset with you because I understand that I am what drove you into the arms of my Swordmaster. I am angry with myself for neglecting you so cruelly since our wedding and I promise to do better by you. Perhaps not to Duncan’s extent, but-” 

You burst out laughing, which caused his brows to knit together in confusion. His large hands folded in front of him on his desk as you tried to get yourself under control. 

“I’m - I’m sorry,” you said, waving a hand in front of you, “I don’t mean to be laughing, I swear, but…is that all it would’ve taken to get your attention?” 

“Well, no, but-” 

“To think all I had to do was fuck someone else…I would’ve gotten your attention weeks ago.” 

“You’ve…been wanting my attention?”

This time you let your scoff out, “Of course! When my father told me he’d found me a husband I expected some old, ugly lord with at least two dead wives and no heirs. You cannot imagine the relief I felt when we met and you were none of those things.” 

“I’m not not old,” he chuckled, ducking his head.  

“Oh, pish, you’re barely forty, and don’t look it.” 

He looked up at you from under his regal brow and you felt butterflies stirring in your chest. “And you are one of the most beautiful women who has ever stepped foot on Caladan.” 

You couldn’t help the blush that rose in your cheeks, “Are you flirting with me, Leto?” 

“Perhaps. You are my wife after all,” he smirked, standing from behind his desk and coming around it, offering his arm to you. “Would you like to walk with me? A proper tour of the grounds?” 

You accepted, resting your hand in the crook of his arm and subtly stroking his inner forearm. “And maybe we can stop in the training room?” 

His smirk widened into a smile and you were enchanted at the sight. “Whatever my wife desires.” 

[starlightsuffered]

Separation Anxiety

Info - anxiety ridden fem, married couple, worried about death, pregnant reader, oral fixation, mentions of cocks/orgasms, sucking a man’s nipples, ass patting for comfort, fingering, possessiveness, separation anxiety

“Paullll,” I gasped. I was so happy he’d come back after his latest mission. I fell to my knees in relief.

I had always been a worrier, being pregnant had only increased this fear. Every time Paul left me I was a complete mess the week before. I needed him constantly with me. I hung off his arm, I pulled him into corners to kiss him tearfully. I always had to be on his dick. I wanted to cock warm him all the time.

I was so happy that he didn’t mind. He dealt well with my incessant coddling and obsession. I was utterly smitten with him. I was so glad our marriage had been arranged. We had a connection at first meeting.

“My love,” he swooned and gathered me into his arms. I finally could breathe comfortably because he was back and safe.

“Oh dear, surely you weren’t that worried,” he chuckled gently, holding my face and brushing his thumbs over my cheeks. Tears streamed down my face.

“Of course I was, Paul Atreides,” I said almost harshly. I felt hurt he could even assume I wasn’t.

“Baby doll, don’t I always come back safe?” He asked.

“That doesn’t mean something couldn’t go terrible wrong,” I sobbed. I pressed my forehead to his chest and I fisted his shirt and let my emotion out.

“I think about you constantly. I worry my child will grow up without a father. I worry I will lose the most precious thing in my life. I just, I just-“

“Come on baby, you need your special thing,” he soothed.

“I do,” I agreed. I fretted with my fingers, leftover anxiety making me tremble. He led me into our sleeping quarters. He shed his still suit.

He went and cleaned himself in the showers while I undressed myself. I rubbed my swollen belly. I was so happy I was the one to bear the Atreides heir. I would be invaluable to Paul. He often reassured me he would never ever leave, but now it would be even harder.

Paul came out clean and sparkling. My husband’s cock was already hard. I was happy for that. He sat on the bed. He beckoned to me. I snuggled up in his arms.

He propped me up on some pillows. He showed me his pink nipple. I placed my hand on his chest, fingers splayed. I began to suckle on his nipple. His pec flexed as I lapped and moaned. I loved being close to him like this.

He comforted me by patting my ass. He sang a Fremen song in a low voice. Then he played with my hair. I closed my eyes and just drank in the atmosphere.

I focused on his smell, his feel, his taste, and his low voice that calmed all my fears. I thumbed his other nipple, so euphoric to be in his arms again.

“You’re my girl, and I’m safe,” he promised me.

Finally, after the ass patting and playing with my hair, he sunk his fingers into my pussy. He curled and pumped slowly as I sucked on his chest. He’d be a mosaic of hickeys after this, and I would take much pride in the marks. He was mine, and I loved it that way.

“So nice and tight, so wet, getting ready for my return,” he crooned.

“Yes Paul,” I shuddered.

“It’s okay my beloved, I’ll get you there. You just relax and know I’m here,” he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “It’s all okay.”

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