#paul hurts

[bless-my-demons]

Scared Of Losing You

Paul Lahote x Reader

Summary: It was just an accident, what is the infamous big bad Paul Lahote afraid of?

Losing his imprint, that’s what.

Warnings: hurt/comfort followed by fluff of course and curse words - PG-13.

Notes: This is literally just a one-shot that would not leave me alone so I had to get it out! It’s all in reader’s pov with no physical description and gender neutral for the most part I think. I also listened to The Wire by the Vancouver Sleep Clinic while I was writing this, if you want the right vibes✨ enjoy my first Paul fic!

Word count: 1700

Masterlist

Beep… beep… beep…

The constant tone is almost soothing, almost, but not quite - there’s too much pain.

The hospital sheets crinkle as I try to shift to find a more comfortable position, but a soft inhale has my eyes snapping open against the bright light above my bed to search for the source of the sound.

“Sam?” I try to keep my voice low, but it comes out as more of a dry croak.

Sam leans forward in his chair to reach for the cup of ice on the tray near my bed, “Yeah, kid.” He keeps his own voice quiet, but I can hear the tiredness in the deep rumble.

It’s after my first sip of cold water that I take in everyone piled in my room. Embry, Quil, Jared, even Jacob - the boys are sprawled out on various chairs and couches, all completely knocked out and some of them even snoring lightly.

But there’s another, Paul. And my heart beats a little faster taking him in, the heart monitor giving me away.

“He’s been here the whole time, hasn’t even left to shower.” Sam shifts back into his chair positioned next to the foot of my bed, directly across from his best friend on the other side, his eyes worrying over said man. “To be fair, none of us have been able to leave.”

“Sam-” I’m speechless for a few seconds, “what happened?”

He loosens a sigh so deep, it pulls something in my chest. God, how long have I been here? Looking over Paul’s sleeping form, I try to put the pieces together - his head is buried face-down in his crossed arms, leaning on the end of my bed near my left leg, one of his warm hands wrapped around my ankle-my uninjured ankle. His shirt is rumbled, but I can see stubble on his cheek peeking out from where his face is hidden. If it weren’t for the pain, I’d be an absolute hot mess at the physical contact; the way his large hand easily wraps around my ankle, how warm my side is due to the heat emanating from this mountain of a man despite the cold of the hospital room.

“You were in a car accident leaving the reservation after your dinner with Emily. You didn’t text her when she expected you to be home, you didn’t answer your phone and it went straight to voicemail…” I can see the genuine concern on his face as he recalls it, “When we got there, Chief Swan was already on scene.”

“How bad? How long have I been here?” I can feel my throat starting to constrict, my heart rate starting to tick a little faster.

Sam’s eyes flick to the monitor, brotherly worry written all over the creases in between his eyebrows and the hard press of his lips.

“Three days.” This time it’s not Sam that answers, it’s the deep tenor that invades my dreams as well as damn near every waking thought of mine, Paul Lahote.

My head whips to meet his intense gaze so fast that it makes me slightly nauseous, his hand lightly squeezing my ankle in a way that tugs at another string in my chest.

“Going for coffee, I’ll bring you back one.” Sam rises from his seat and I panic slightly, he’s leaving me with Paul. Paul Lahote, the guy I have an insanely intense crush on, the guy that doesn’t do feelings. The panic subsides quickly though, I giggle slightly at Sam trying to wake up and usher the boys still half-asleep out of my room.

The door clicks behind them, silencing their grumbles and their absence echos in the room. Sucking all the air out with their departure, it’s damn near impossible to meet his eyes again.

“Sweetheart.” The tenderness and hush in his voice is unfair, coupled with the gentle swipe of his thumb over the skin of my ankle. Damn, he doesn’t fight fair.

It’s like a magnet, the way my eyes draw back to his. They look so fucking tired and it hurts.

“Three cracked ribs, a fractured orbital bone, a nicked lung, and a broken tibia. Not to mention all the cuts-” he cuts himself off, hands and gaze running over my uninjured leg like he’s trying to reinforce something inside himself.

“Paul-” He stills at his name, eyes closing, inhaling deep. “Paul.”

Finally he turns to me, eyes opening and showing the slightest bit of tears pooling at the edges and its another pang to the center of my chest.

“I’m still here, what are you so scared of?” My voice is small, not sure how to tread this tense situation.

A wet laugh tumbles out as his hands abandon my leg to rub at his temples. “You.” It’s quiet and I almost don’t catch it over the beeping of monitors.

“What?” I ask, my voice taking on an incredulous tone. Surely I didn’t hear him right, right?

“You.” His eyes lock onto mine with full force, face set. “You’ve… you’ve wormed your way in here-” he rubs at his chest like it hurts and my breath hitches, “and I was scared. Am scared.” The pause hitching his breath, the tension is thick, “your car, seeing it flipped… it’s like the world stopped and I couldn’t hear anything-couldn’t think straight, but watching you getting pulled out, I-” his groan of frustration slides over my skin and lodges in my throat with the rest of my guilt. “I-I-”

His stuttering renders me absolutely speechless, Paul Lahote showing feelings? Feelings for me? Is this real life?

“So I haven’t left. Can’t. I can’t even think of leaving this room let alone going home and just being useless-”

“Paul, I’m fine.” I try to reach for his hands, but a stabbing pain in my side stops me, right - the ribs.

“Please don’t do that, don’t say that, you weren’t awake then they brought you in with that fucking tube down your throat-” The tremble in his hands stop his rant, drawing his attention somewhere else. His next words are a whisper, “You weren’t fine and nothing-nothing else matters.”

The conviction in his statement makes my chin wobble.

“Sweetheart,” he rises from his chair and cups my cheeks, mindful of the scratches and bandages. “Sweetheart, please…” the strong thumb swiping over my cheekbone only weakens my thin resolve and a tear spills over.

“I’m so sorry.” My voice wobbles, damn me for not being stronger, but everything hurts and he’s being so vulnerable and-and-and it’s so scary.

He leans down further, forehead pressing to my own, his nose barely brushing mine. My heart rate monitor picks up its cadence once again and that smirk I’ve always loved crinkles the side of his stupid, perfect mouth.

“I’m the one that’s sorry.” His admission confuses me, he’s sorry? “I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner how I’ve felt.”

My heart fully stops functioning and my mouth drops open at this new bit of information.

His lips brush my cheek as they whisper into my ear, “breathe.” My entire body is a live wire as I gulp oxygen down.

“You don’t have to say anything-” his immediate insecurity about his confession is too much.

I cut him off before I lose my resolve, “kiss me?”

His eyes widen comically for a second, as if he didn’t picture the possibility I could return his affections. Silly man.

His fingers gently glide under my chin to tilt it upwards, his eyes searching every inch of my face, like he’s looking for something.

“If you-” his turn to cut me off, his warm lips seal over mine.

Surely I’m dead. I must be, it’s the only logical reason. Either that or this is a really, really nice dream. The immersive kind, where it’s too good to be true. It’s a crime really, for lips to be so full and soft and just right-

The barely audible whimper that leaves my mouth when he pulls away a fraction of an inch is embarrassing. What’s even more embarrassing is the way I reach to chase those lips, but once again my ribs decide to protest the action, goddamnit.

Paul takes pity on me with a chuckle, resealing his lips over mine, thank god. No one should have a mouth this delicious, lips this full and warm. I’m a goner - go ahead and wheel me to the morgue, I can die happy now that I’ve finally found out what it’s like to kiss Paul Lahote.

His hands gently slide into my hair, causing a gasp to punch through from the goosebumps the warm caress pours down my spine. His tongue seizes the opportunity to lick past my lips and I happily swallow the moan he elicits right before he peels himself away.

Backing up and taking a lap around the end of the bed, I catch the flush in his cheeks as he blows out a long breath and grin to myself self-satisfied. I made the Paul Lahote flustered.

“Too much?” I ask, unable to contain myself.

For once he looks like a fish out of water, but before she could scramble a response together, a gentle knock at the door draws both our attention as Emily peeks her head around the edge, “knock, knock.”

Relief at seeing my best friend soothes the burning heat in my cheeks almost immediately.

“Come in.” Paul pushes the chair closer so that he can take my much smaller hand in his, careful of the IV taped to the back of my hand. I can’t contain the butterflies that erupt at the satisfied grin his mouth is set in, eyes glued to our joined hands.

“I’m so glad you’re awake and alright!” Her concerned ramblings fading off as the boys file back in. Sam clapping a hand on Paul’s shoulder and suspiciously empty handed with no promised coffee in sight, but I can’t look away. Not from the man that just flipped my word upside down with a couple words and a kiss.

Part Two

[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!]

[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.

[tac-the-unseen]

Lost Boys x Injured Reader

CW: Gang violence, guns, blood, description of unlicensed surgery, minor gore

You and David were by a small brick wall with all of the boys parked bikes. While Marko, Paul, and Dwayne ran around and had fun with each other, you and David stayed behind. David stayed because he was scouting victims, and you stayed behind because you were incredibly tired. You had to work earlier than normal which threw off your whole sleep schedule, and the headache you were sporting wasn't helping either.

Dwayne had already told you how unnecessary it is for you to work. Not only do the guys have a huge amount of money and other values stashed away, you’ll only end up burning yourself out. You however were firm with working, it gave you something to do. While sitting back to never work again sounds like an absolute dream, the sinking pit in your stomach told you otherwise. You felt too lazy. Mix that with anxiety and you swiftly found yourself a job at the local mall.

You laid on top of Dwayne’s bike, the (arguably) most comfortable bike, while humming to keep your mind busy. You cross your arms over the handlebars and use it to cushion your head. Your legs are just short enough to miss the ground, so you swing them back and forth. Your eyes slowly start to close as your mind slips away into a light nap, but that's when your body jolts itself upright. Your body reacts before your brain fully understands what was happening.

Gunshots, several of them.

The fast pops whip through the air, then are quickly followed by more. It's not rare that Santa Carla has a few idiots with guns, but what is rare is a full on shoot out. You see several people running away from the middle of the boardwalk. You watch as they push past each other and you even catch sight of the poors souls that get knocked to the floor. You know those people will be trampled to death by the terrified crowd, but you can't help but briefly think about how horrible that cause of death is. Head trauma, crushed ribs, pierced lungs, snapped neck, all happening to you in a matter of seconds. It's truly a brutal way to go.

David grabs you by the arm and pulls you off Dwayne’s bike and into his chest. David turns himself around to cover you and put you onto his own bike. That's when a sharp, burning pain hits your shoulder. By the time you know what's wrong David has already started his motorcycle and is speeding off. You hissed in pain as the warm California air hits your red, hot, open wound. While David drives you slide off your jacket and press it into the hole in your shoulder. You lean into David's shoulder and bite down onto his leather coat. The stinging pain mixed with the bounce of the trail makes you nauseous, but before you know it, your home.

David wastes no time parking his bike and grabbing you, pulling you into the cave. He runs past the common room, kicking shit out of the way, and sets you into the nest. David is fast, his movements show panic, But oddly enough not his face. He's stone cold, you'd be almost offended if you didn't see the way his pupils are blown wide open. He is panicking, he's just not showing it.

In his haste he grabs some old clothes of his from what you can assume was the 1800’s. Lucky that old thing is clean, you know because you're the one that washed it. He presses the white cotton button up into your shoulders, your body reacts by trying to pull away, but David doesn't let you get far. “Hold still love.” He pleads gently.

You hiss at the touch, Your shoulder burns and stings with a dull throbbing pain. Your heartbeat throbs in your ears while David does his best to stop the bleeding. You're lurched back into reality as someone pulled you into their chest by the waist. You look back to find Paul pulling you in and hastily kissing the back of your head. You look around to see Marko and Dwayne finding more cloth to stuff the wound.

By the four shirt the bleeding slows and your vision is swirling. Dwayne holds your hand and presses kisses into your knuckles while Marko and David are setting up supplies to dig out the bullet and sew you shut. You see them using a lighter to disinfect a pair of tweezers and two needles. Your tears blur you vision so much there's no point in keeping them open.

“I know baby, I know.” Dwayne tries to reassure you, but they all know that's not going to work. You hear footsteps and open your eyes to look up. David is crouching down with the sterile tweezers and you catch the look in his eyes. He's clearly anticipating your reaction, they all know it's not going to be fun.

Paul grabs your other hand and interlaces his fingers with yours, Dwayne is quick to do the same. Another wave of panic shoots through you, while this is an act of love, they're also holding you down.

“Ready?” David says in the most delicate voice you've ever heard from him. You sob out and brace yourself, David knows you're never going to be ready, but has to do this either way.

When he begins digging you're met with what is now the worst pain you've ever been in. Being shit was one thing, this was 10 times more intense. You feel every jab and poke, the pain is nearly indescribable. You seriously would have rather been stabbed.

While you violently sob and scream, Paul and Dwayne hold you down tightly. You legs twist and almost kick David, but Marko was quick to swoop in and pin them down too. With all this chaos David is apologizing with every movement he makes. He shushes you while digging into your bleeding wound until he hits metal.

He slowly drags up the bullet. When the Damned thing is dislodged from your shoulder David quickly packs the wound again. “I'm sorry love, you did such a good job.” He praises while getting up.

They wait until your crying slows and you're no longer trying to kick the air...or Marko. Marko lets go of your legs slowly and stands you. He hurries over to the cabinet and grabs an already threaded needle. “It's not over yet, love.” Paul whispers in an apologetic way. Marko sprays the wound with a disinfectant before he begins his work. David is now the one hugging your legs as Marko gets in close to sew you together. “1…2…3!” Marko says before the needle pierces the lower part of the wound.

Your voice is hoarse from David's previous excursion, but you still manage to hiss and cry. Marko’s work is quick but not sloppy. He too is spewing apologies like a prayer. By the time he's done you've lost all your fight and lay limp and sobbing against Paul's chest.

Marko sprays some disinfectant on your wound and patches you up with cotton pads and a cloth wrapping. As soon as he's down you're pulled into a laying down position by Paul and all four boys start cooing at you.

You're surrounded by purrs and buzzing, praises and kisses, all around you. But that all combines into mindless ringing as you stare up at the ceiling. You still feel the stinging, pinching, and throbbing burn. The thumping of your heart hasn't stopped either, you're still in pain.

Finally your body gives in and your vision fades.

The first sight you're met with is the ceiling. As you blink away the sleep you catch a glimpse of fluffy blonde hair. You turn your head to see Marko asleep and more of Paul's hair. As you come too you realize you're still on Paul's chest. You look to your other side and see both Dwayne and David also asleep.

You gather that it's probably morning and that you probably missed your early work shift. While that thought flies through your head the second one to follow is ‘I’m fucking quitting.’

You slowly wiggle yourself out of your mates arms and the nest, and quietly leave the room. You're still in pain, and the wiggling around you just did wasn't helping, but it was manageable. What really bugs you right now is how thirsty you are. Your body is screaming for water like never before. You guess it made some sense, you did lose quite a lot of blood.

You shuffle over to the living area, in the corner are stacks of water bottles. You remember when you first began staying in the cave how you complained that the cave didn't have any running water. You half jokingly said you'd start bring jugs of water when you stayed over. The next day when you complained of thirst Marko busted open a large crate and pulled out a plastic water bottle with absolute glee. Bastards had waited for you to complain all day so they could show off the water they stole for you.

While making your way to the water supply you hear a similar shuffling behind you. “What are you doing up this early?” you hear Paul's groggy voice behind you. You lean over a grab a bottle, you don't even attempt to talk, you know your voice is gone by the way your throat is still raw. You just hum at him and chug your first bottle.

By the time you reach for your next his arms are around you and gently rocking side to side. You untwist the cap and chug your second bottle. “You're gonna need vitamins and shit.” he grumbles into your good shoulder.

“They’re gonna need more than that.” Another voice murmurs from the dark. You don't have to turn your head to identify David’s voice. “We'll get you plenty tonight, but for now we all need sleep.” He promises in a sleepy tone. You finish your second bottle but your thirst is still unmatched

With Paul holding onto your middle you make grabbie hands at the water stash. David grunts in response but get you your third water. “Finish that and we'll go to bed.” Paul says and kisses the side of your neck.

When you're done you're hauled off to the nest and tucked into place. Dwayne and Marko are just slightly awake and mumbles out incomprehensible words. You're put in-between them with Paul and David quickly to snuggle into your lower half.

Its uncharacteristically gentle of the, but you definitely don't hate it. Even more kisses are pressed into your hips and forehead, as they all settle back into sleep. You too fall under sleeps spell while you plan out what food you're gonna eat when night falls.

The last thing you hear are soft purrs.

Thanks for reading <3

I know it's not the greatest but I have like 5 finals to do. I'm in my last couple of days before I graduate.

[calmlb]

So… Stormbringer manga next?

please?

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Formula 1 & 2 Masterlist

This is just where you can find all of my Fics (will be updated as I post)

I give no one permission to use or rewrite my work (not that it’s any good)

Reblogs are welcomed and encouraged!

there’s gonna be much much much more, i promise. i’ll write one fic and then a different type of fic with a different person pops in my head and i have to start writing that one so i can have it in my drafts

thank you and enjoy (pls send requests too)

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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F1 & 2 MASTERLIST PT2

Logan Sargeant:

Therapy

Therapy pt2 (coming soon)

Too Good To Say Goodbye (SNEAK PEAK)

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt1

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt2

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt3

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt4

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt5

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt6

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt7

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt8

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt9

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt10

Earned It

Logan Sargeant SMAU

Anyone But Me

Texting The F1 Guys Song Lyrics

You Shouldn’t Have Done That

Why Are You Dating Me (SMAU)

I Don't Feel Good (SMAU)

Work Surprises with the F1 Boys

Texting F1 Drivers About Character Deaths

Love Doesn’t Have To Hurt

Broken Circuits (not posted yet)

Lando Norris:

Lonely Christmas

You're Dead To Me

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt2

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt3

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt4

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt5

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt6

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt7

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt8

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt9

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt10

Texting The F1 Guys Song Lyrics

You Shouldn’t Have Done That

Why Are You Dating Me (SMAU)

I Don't Feel Good (SMAU)

The Smallest Man Who Ever lived

Work Surprises with the F1 Boys

Take It Like A Good Girl

Texting F1 Drivers About Character Deaths

Love Doesn’t Have To Hurt

Yours For The Taking

Carlos Sainz:

imgonnagetyouback

Texting The F1 Guys Song Lyrics

Why Are You Dating Me (SMAU)

I Don't Feel Good (SMAU)

Work Surprises with the F1 Boys

Texting F1 Drivers About Character Deaths

Love Doesn’t Have To Hurt

Yours For The Taking

Charles Leclerc:

Texting The F1 Guys Song Lyrics

Why Are You Dating Me (SMAU)

I Don't Feel Good (SMAU)

Work Surprises with the F1 Boys

Texting F1 Drivers About Character Deaths

Daniel Ricciardo:

Texting The F1 Guys Song Lyrics

Why Are You Dating Me (SMAU)

I Don't Feel Good (SMAU)

Work Surprises with the F1 Boys

Texting F1 Drivers About Character Deaths

Lewis Hamilton:

Show Me

PillowTalk

Wide Awake

Texting The F1 Guys Song Lyrics

Why Are You Dating Me (SMAU)

I Don't Feel Good (SMAU)

Work Surprises with the F1 Boys

Texting F1 Drivers About Character Deaths

Oscar Piastri:

Texting The F1 Guys Song Lyrics

Give Into The Temptation

Why Are You Dating Me (SMAU)

I Don't Feel Good (SMAU)

The Smallest Man Who Ever lived

Work Surprises with the F1 Boys

Texting F1 Drivers About Character Deaths

Broken Circuit (not posted yet)

Practice

George Russell:

Texting The F1 Guys Song Lyrics

Why Are You Dating Me (SMAU)

I Don't Feel Good (SMAU)

Work Surprises with the F1 Boys

Texting F1 Drivers About Character Deaths

I Need You (not posted yet)

Max Verstappen:

Texting The F1 Guys Song Lyrics

Why Are You Dating Me (SMAU)

I Don't Feel Good (SMAU)

Work Surprises with the F1 Boys

Texting F1 Drivers About Character Deaths

Lance Stroll:

imgonnagetyouback

Texting The F1 Guys Song Lyrics

Why Are You Dating Me (SMAU)

I Don't Feel Good (SMAU)

Work Surprises with the F1 Boys

Texting F1 Drivers About Character Deaths

I'm Sorry (not posted yet)

Pierre Gasly:

Work Surprises with the F1 Boys

Texting F1 Drivers About Character Deaths

Arthur Leclerc:

Please Don't Leave Me Like That Again.

Texting F1 Drivers About Character Deaths

Paul Aron:

Practice

[bless-my-demons]

Scared of Losing You - Part 2

Paul Lahote x Reader

Summary: It was just an accident, what is the infamous big bad Paul Lahote afraid of?

Losing his imprint, that’s what.

Warnings: panic attack, curse words, buncha’ angst that ends with fluff

Notes: of course I had to write a Paul POV since you guys loved the first one! Oh I love a good bit of angst

Word count: 2300

Masterlist

Part One

Metal crunching, sirens wailing, frantic voices - they were all on a loop in my brain and I was helpless to stop it.

I could feel the eyes on me, the worried glances, but I didn’t give a shit.

“Sam, please don’t-”

“Paul, you’re wearing a hole in the floor, the doctors have it under control-” I know Sam is trying to reason with me, reason with my wolf, but I can’t take it.

“Don’t fucking tell me this shit is fine or it’s going to be fine, it’s not fucking fine!” I close my eyes and force out a breath, blowing up at my brother is not what I fucking need right now. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t, I know what you’re feeling. Imprints and rational thought don’t go together.” Sam gives me a sad, lopsided grin.

Just then, a nurse walks in the waiting room and the entire pack stands. It’s late in this po-dunk little town and we’re the only people here, she’s here about my girl.

“Are you the family of-” She starts but hesitates, eying everyone gathered.

“Yes, all of us.” Thank the ancestors for Sam taking charge, I don’t think I could force out a response past the tightness in my chest.

“She is stable,” relief floods my system, “but she remains in critical condition.” Panic, pure and thick forces its way down my throat and everything grinds to a fucking halt.

What does she mean ‘stable but critical’?

I can’t hear anything she continues to explain, the ringing in my ears too loud. Sam, I turn to my brother, watching as he focuses on the nurse and nods along. If she’s stable, why do I feel like I’m drowning?

A hand on my shoulder startles me, Jared.

The nurse must of finished her report, because Sam meets my gaze - his lips are moving, but I can’t fucking hear. He grips my shoulder and tugs me forward, into the hallway, but no one is following us.

“Breathe.” His voice is under water and distant, my vision is soda-strawed in on his mouth and I’m trying. I’m trying to understand, trying to suck in oxygen.

My lips are starting to tingle, just like my fingers.

She—I can’t—she can’t—

I can’t even string a thought together about what this means in a way that makes sense and the silence in this hallway is fucking roaring.

Sam cups the back of my neck and brings me forward so that we’re forehead to forehead, his other hand grabs my wrist to bring my hand to his chest, he exaggerates a deep breath and waits for me to follow suit.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I didn’t notice the tremor in my hands, in my arms, my body.

The ringing in my ears begins to fade.

Breathe in, breathe out.

The beeping of heart monitors and the low voices of our family begin to filter through the fog surrounding my brain.

I bring my other arm around Sam’s shoulder and pull him in for a hug, I’d be absolutely fucked without this man’s guidance.

“Thank you.” My voice is small and muffled by his thick jacket.

“Always here, brother.” He pats my back in a soothing manner and it shakes me out of the lingering stupor that had me paralyzed. “Let’s go see her.”

“See her?” I can’t contain the surprise and the hope in my voice, I get to see my girl?

“Nurse said she can have two visitors at a time, I’ll sneak the rest of the boys in later, but she needs you first.”

Following Sam down the hallway feels like a dream, a nightmare.

He stops at a door and glances over his shoulder, raises an eyebrow and pushes it open after I nod. I focus on his back as we enter the dimly lit room, but my eyes snap to the figure on the bed when I hear a small hitch in Sam’s breath.

My girl.

My imprint.

My reason for existing.

There’s so many wires. Wires running under the collar of her hospital gown, a heart rate monitor clipped to her delicate finger. Tubes, ancestors—the tubes. She has a breathing tube forced in her mouth, an IV line taped to her right forearm, but the worst yet if that’s even possible—my eyes burn at the sight of a larger gage tube peeking out from the left side of her gown currently draining into a clear container of blood at her bedside. There’s swelling and the beginning of bruising around her left eye that makes me shudder. And fuck, all the cuts, my eyes scan over every inch of exposed skin. The fucking cast on her right leg.

My sweet, sweet girl.

I take a shuddering breath as Sam scoots a chair within my reach, I tug it towards the end of her bed—afraid to touch her anywhere other than the uninjured real estate of her body, which leaves me with her left ankle. I wrap my hand around it and frown at how cold her skin is. I’m here, I’ll warm you up.

Sam pulls up on the other side of the bed facing her, “Three cracked ribs, a fractured orbital bone, a punctured lung, and a broken tibia. They’re worried about the lung, it’s been sutured, they’re monitoring the chest tube output.” He scrubs a hand down his face, “she’s sedated for her own comfort, which is why she’s intubated. To give her some rest.”

I squeeze my eyes closed as he lists everything, why my girl? My imprint? Before we’ve… even had a chance? A tear slides down my cheek and clings to my chin annoyingly.

“Paul, she’s going to make it,” my eyes snap open, ready to chew him out because fucking look at her, but he continues, “she’s banged up to hell and back, but the docs are confident she’ll recover. She just needs you and some rest.”

I glance at her and send a prayer up to the ancestors, please let them be right. I’ve never asked for anything, but I’m asking for her.

“She is strong, has to be if she’s yours.” He gives a half-assed chuckle that barely lifts the corner of my mouth.

“Ancestors know, she’s got a handful to deal with if she ever accepts the bond.” I can tell my tone is sad and I wince.

“You have to give her the chance, but I know she will.”

My eyes snap to his.

“Don’t give me that look, that girl is head over heels for you.” He dared to fucking smirk.

“H-how could you possibly know that-”

“She looks at you the same way Kim looks at Jared, same look I see in Em’s eyes every day, you’re just fucking blind.” Sam states it like it’s a matter-of-fact.

I huff, no fucking way.

“Huff all you want, but you brother, are lovable—contrary to your own hard-headed belief. And you already love her.”

“Of course I fucking do, she’s meant for me.”

“Meant for you, that’s what the imprinting tells us. But I’m talking about the love sick puppy eyes you follow her around with-”

“I don’t-” But he cuts me off.

“You do and you’re not as covert with it as you think you are.”

He’s right, I can’t fucking argue with that.

“How do you do it?” I ask him abruptly.

“Do what?” I can feel his eyes on me.

“Sit here, useless, like this. With her, like that.” My voice is quiet, afraid.

“It’s not easy,” he sighs and leans back in his plastic chair, “but you do it because she needs you, she’s the center of your gravity now, the reason behind everything we do. So we wait, together.”

I nod along, folding my arms and settling in to watch the steady rise and fall of her chest.

I’m here baby, I’m here.

Soft mummering slowly starts to peck at my awareness, the dull pain beginning to flare in my back from being hunched over the foot of this hospital bed.

“How long have I been here?” Her scratchy voice wraps around my heart and squeezes.

Her heart rate ticks up audibly on the monitor and I lift my head to answer her, “Three days.”

I squeeze her uninjured ankle gently, so fucking glad to finally see those eyes.

“Going for coffee, I’ll bring you back one.” Sam turns to kick the boys awake and it causes her to giggle, fuck I missed that sound.

As they leave and the door clicks shut, a heavy tension settles over the room causing my heart to leap into my throat.

“Sweetheart.” I opt for being gentle, she won’t meet my eyes so I swipe my thumb over the skin of her ankle.

Her eyes meet mine and I list off her injuries, needing to get the information out of the way before I fuck all of this up with my feelings, but I can’t finish the sentence—the feeling of helplessness crashes back into me.

“Paul,” I close my eyes and inhale at how gently she utters my name, “Paul.” She’s serious now, I turn to her with the beginnings of tears causing my vision to swim. Why can’t I fucking do this?

“I’m still here, what are you so scared of?” Her voice is so small, the insanity of her question pulls a laugh from my chest.

I rub at my temples and mumble a “You.” Hoping she wouldn’t catch it, terrified she would.

“What?” Surprise, she’s genuinely surprised.

“You.” My eyes lock onto hers with full force and my resolve steals a bit. “You’ve… you’ve wormed your way in here-” my chest is on fire and her breath hitches, “and I was scared. Am scared.” Pausing to gather my thoughts, the tension is thick, “your car, seeing it flipped… it’s like the world stopped and I couldn’t hear anything-couldn’t think straight, but watching you getting pulled out, I-” I groan out of frustration. “I-I-” I stutter like a fucking idiot, get a grip. “So I haven’t left. Can’t. I can’t even think of leaving this room let alone going home and just being useless-”

“Paul, I’m fine.” She tries to reach for my hands, but she stops mid-motion and lets out a small gasp, her ribs.

“Please don’t do that, don’t say that, you weren’t awake when they brought you in with that fucking tube down your throat-” my hands start trembling and I stop. “You weren’t fine and nothing-nothing else matters.” I finish with a whisper.

Her chin starts to wobble.

Fuck.

“Sweetheart,” I rise from my chair and cup her delicate cheeks, mindful of the scratches and bandages. “Sweetheart, please…” I swipe my thumb over her cheekbone to try and soothe her, but a tear spills over and threatens to stop my heart.

“I’m so sorry.” Her voice wobbles and it spears me right down to my soul.

I lean down further, pressing me forehead to her own, my nose barely brushing hers. The heart rate monitor picks up in speed and I grin, I affect her.

“I’m the one that’s sorry.” I admit quietly, before I lose my confidence. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner how I’ve felt.”

She stops breathing all together, my lips brush her cheek as I whisper into her ear, “breathe.” She immediately gulps oxygen down.

What a good girl.

After a few seconds, her unusual quietness and my anxiety gets the better of me, “You don’t have to say anything-”

“Kiss me?”

I’m done for.

Box me up and throw me in the ground.

Kiss me? Kiss her? Is this real?

She’s like gravity and I’m helpless to resist her pull, I tilt her chin upwards and I search her face—committing this moment to memory for all of eternity.

“If you-” I can’t even let her finish the thought.

Heaven, this is what heaven is like. Has to be.

My mouth seals over hers and immediately I know nothing could top this, top the feel of how goddamn perfect we fit together.

I pull back because I know she needs oxygen, her monitors are beeping erratically all over the place. But she whimpers, fucking whimpers and chases my mouth.

Ancestors—she’s got me hook, line, and sinker.

I take pity on her and lean in with a chuckle before taking her mouth again. Fuck, how on earth have I managed to wait this long for this? I fear I could kiss her all day long and then some, ravish her from sun up to sun down and still not find it in me to stop.

My hands gently slide into her hair, I can’t fucking help it. A gasp from her punches right through my sanity and I shiver. I’m on auto-pilot and I seize the opportunity to lick past her lips and I fucking moan at how goddamn perfect she is.

She’s in the hospital. For a lot of injuries. She’s in pain. A lot of pain and on a lot of medications.

I managed to rip myself away and force my feet to pace around the end of her bed, get a fucking grip Lahote.

“Too much?” Her beautiful lips tilt in a shit eating grin, she knows.

Too much? Not fucking enough.

Before I could think of how to respond, Emily pushed the door open with a soft rap of her fist against the wood “knock, knock.”

Emily is like a soothing balm over my frayed nerves, always has been.

“Come in.” I tell her as I push my chair closer so that I can take her much smaller hand in mine, careful of the IV taped to the back of her hand. I can feel a satisfied grin overtaking my mouth as my eyes glue to our joined hands.

Taglist:

@Locokoca @thestarcatcher7297 @idontliketoread2137

[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.

[hiraya-sa-dilim]

not moving on from how louis so far surpassed the bare minimum of saving daniel's life? how he could've just let daniel walk away and call it a day but he sat him down and armed him not only against the past few days but the rest of daniel's damn life?? how daniel's had it horrible since, but in spite all his losses, he had something??? how he had the hope of being someone and mattering and he held on to it for 50 long years?? and it worked??? it helped him survive over and over and over???? a shit life is better than no life at all and daniel lived because louis chose to help him??!???

[slowlyoats]

The Lost Boys: How They Comfort Their Significant Other 

Marko

I could see his S/O having some tough skin, so it’s on the rarer side that Marko would have to comfort them because they got their feelings hurt or someone made fun of them 

 They would need comforting for art critiques though 

Like I’ve mentioned in previous posts, Marko is drawn to creative energy, so it likely that his S/O would be an artist of some kind 

Anyways 

They don’t take criticism lightly, so when a local art critic calls their painting “a mess of lines and colors attempting to be art” they are CRUSHED

Like they refuse to leave the pigeon hole, and Marko has to bring all their meals to them for a week 

Lucky for this S/O though 

Marko is a supportive and a loyal KING 

That man brings you your meals, and lets you cry it out 

He lets you sleep all day and all night, and stays right by your side, giving plenty of little “it’s okay, I’m here” kisses 

Then, when you’ve gotten all that “sappy stuff” out of your system he wants you to get MAD

He wants you to get ANGRY 

He wants you to form a very detailed, long winded revenge plan, with some nice artistic touches! 

He loves bonding with you over art, so throw in a dash of revenge and it’s the perfect date night 

Paul 

 Paul tends to not take things seriously, and is the Prince of Teasing 

That being said he can take it too far 

He won’t notice that you are upset right away, because he probably got distracted by something shiny, or is currently trying to see how many little objects he can get in Marko’s hair without him noticing 

One of the boys would probably have to point out to him that you are upset 

If you're upset about something that he said, then he is quick to point out that he may be pretty but he’s also pretty stupid 

He will apologize right away 

Dwayne 

Dwayne’s S/O I could see being on the sensitive  side 

Comments people say about them bother them all the time, but they would never call the person out for it or tell Dwayne (though Dwayne can usually tell anyways) 

They care very deeply for their found family and don’t want to cause conflict, so they find it easier to keep moments of distress and sadness to themself 

But 

There is one topic they are particularly touchy about

Their body image 

Even the slightest comment about how they look or what they are eating can dig its claws into their subconscious 

Dwayne didn’t know this at first, and he shamefully admits it took him awhile to understand why these comments upset you so much 

But, in Dwayne fashion he educates himself on the topic so he can teach himself how to best support you 

He watches you like a hawk so that he can learn the facial expressions you make when someone makes a comment that makes you uncomfortable 

Or how you voice changes when your holding back tears 

The boys have no filter *cough cough Marko & Paul* so there have been a few comments made by them

Like one time you all were grabbing ice cream, and you got three scoops instead of your typically two  because you were FEELING ice cream that night and Paul made a comment 

“ Wooh, you better watch your figure! A moment on the lips, forever on the hips!” 

Now, Paul said it as a stupid joke and didn’t put much thought to it

You on the other hand couldn’t eat the ice cream after he said it

Dwayne PROMPTLY dragged Paul by the scruff of his collar out of ear shot, and ripped the poor man a new one

They didn’t realize how much it bothered you till that night, and none of the boys have ever made a comment like that again 

Dwayne would encourage you to eat the ice cream, but he wouldn’t pressure you. 

He would stay close throughout the night, and would only talk about it if you wanted to 

You would walk along the beach, side by side, and point out constellations together till you felt ready to talk 

He wants you to feel confident in your body, because this man thinks your the most ethereal woman he has ever laid eyes on, and he knows that confidence  lays right under your surface 

He is always whispering compliments in your ear from then on 

They always make you blush, but they do help you feel beautiful and remind you that you are loved and seen 

David 

Their significant other hates feeling dumb 

They are an intelligent, fierce being; who unfortunately really struggled with academics from elementary school to high school 

They worked hard through college though! stuff doesn’t come easy to them

They just try, try, and try till they get it right 

Their relentless 

That doesn’t mean their childhood trauma of feeling stupid had gone away though

David would never call his S/O stupid after learning this, unless, of course, he deems that they are indeed acting stupid. (Which in his eyes happens often) 

He can be an insensitive jerk so whenever you two get in a fight it’s the first blow he gives 

He knows it hurts you, that why he said it 

He always regrets it afterwards though 

He thinks giving you space afterward will comfort you, but that’s not what you want 

Comfort starts with an apology 

And he is the king of apologies 

He would find you laying on the couch with puffy, red eyes, staring at the ceiling 

He would lay down next to you, and proceed to give you the most well thought out and meaningful apology you have ever heard 

Only to you though 

No one else gets an apology from him 

His only regrets are the ones where you get hurt

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Practice

Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader x Paul Aron

A/N: I really wasn't going to post anything on Tumblr for a while and to just use the anger and betrayal I feel inside of me to write as a form of an outlet. I've had this request done for a while but with everything going on I didn't want to post it but I already feel bad to the person that requested it for keeping them waiting for so long and since Oscar won today, I feel like this is an appropriate time.

After posting this, I do not know how long until I post again but know whenever I do decide it is the right time for me (mentally) to come back, I will have lots of stories to post along with writing more.

Again, thank you to everyone who has reached out to me and wishing me well and reblogging that post along with sending requests to other writers asking them to spread the word and to block and report that person, I do see them and I do really appreciate all the support.

Farewell, for now. I will see you all again soon.

Requested (idk where the actual ask went but I did write it in my notes app where I do rough drafts): Please could you do a story Oscar piastri x y/n x paul aron smut I'm dying for the two of them 🔥 @deepestrunawaykitty

SMUT

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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F1 Masterlist

It was a hot July Saturday night, and I felt my heart race as I entered the club with my boyfriend, Oscar. The bass pumped through my body, setting the tone for a night of pure, unadulterated pleasure. I wore a tight, black dress that hugged my body in all the right places. my long hair fell loosely and my eyes sparkled with anticipation. Oscar looked dashing as always, his brown hair tussled, and that seductive smirk playing on his lips. He was a Formula 1 driver, and his bad-boy charm had me hooked from the start.

As we made our way through the crowd, hands brushing against each other, the familiar lyrics of Drake's "Practice" filled the room. This was our song, the one that played on repeat during our steamy make-out sessions. Oscar leaned in close, his hot breath tickling my ear as he whispered, "You know what this song does to me, babe. It makes me want to take you right here on the dance floor and show everyone what you're mine."

I felt my core clench at his words, my nipples hardening against the soft fabric of my dress. I loved it when Oscar talked dirty, and tonight, I wanted to give myself completely to him. "Then take me," I purred, pressing my body against his, feeling the hard length of his cock straining against his pants. "I'm yours to do with as you please."

Oscar's hand slid down my back, pulling my body tight against his. With his other hand, he reached under my dress, his fingers teasing the soaked fabric of my panties. "You're so wet already, baby. Who knows, maybe I'll let one of my friends have a taste of this tight pussy tonight." I moaned, my eyes fluttering closed as his fingers found my clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles. "Oh, yes, Oscar," I gasped. "I'm yours to share. Do whatever you want with me."

As if on cue, Oscar's friend, Formula 2 driver Paul Aron, joined us on the dance floor. He was tall and muscular, with a mischievous smile that sent shivers down my spine. "Well, well, well," he said, his eyes roaming over my body. "Looks like someone's ready to play."

"She certainly is," Oscar replied, his hand still working its magic between my thighs. "Why don't you say hello, Paul?"

Paul didn't need to be asked twice. He pulled me against him, his lips crashing down on mine in a passionate kiss. I melted into the kiss, my hands exploring Paul's body as his tongue dueled with mine. I could feel both of their erections pressing into me, and it drove me wild.

Breaking the kiss, Oscar guided me to turn around, pressing my body against the hard planes of Paul's chest. "Such a beautiful view," Oscar murmured, nuzzling my neck. "Seeing your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock while Paul fucks that tight pussy from behind." I moaned, my eyes rolling back as Paul's hands slid up my thighs, lifting my dress. "Mmm, yes, Oscar," I breathed. "I want you both. Please, fuck me. Make me yours."

Without warning, Oscar spun me around and pressed my against the nearby wall, his mouth claiming mine in a voracious kiss. my senses spun out of control as I felt Paul's hands on my waist, lifting me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pressed the length of his hard cock against my aching pussy. "You ready for me, baby?" he growled, grinding his hips against her.

"Please," I begged, my head falling back as Oscar kissed and nibbled on my neck. "Fuck me, Paul. Give it to me hard."

With one swift thrust, Paul impaled me on his thick shaft, burying himself balls-deep inside me. I cried out, my nails digging into Oscar's shoulders as I felt myself stretched around his cock. Paul began to move, his hips snapping as he pounded into me, each thrust hitting me deep and hard.

Oscar's hands roamed over my body, cupping my breasts and pinching my nipples. He kissed and sucked on my neck, marking me as his. "You like that, baby? You like being fucked by my friend while I watch?"

"Yes," I moaned, my head tossing back and forth as pleasure washed over me. "Oh, God, yes. It feels so good, Oscar. Don't stop."

Paul's hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as he thrust faster and harder, his grunts filling the air. I felt her orgasm building, a coil of pleasure tightening in my belly. "I'm gonna cum," I panted, my fingers tangling in Oscar's hair. "Don't stop, please, don't stop."

As if sensing my impending release, Oscar reached between our bodies, his fingers finding my swollen clit. He rubbed me in slow, firm circles, sending shocks of pleasure coursing through me. "That's it, baby, cum for us. Let me taste that sweet pussy."

And cum I did. With a strangled cry, my body shook as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. My juices flowed around Paul's cock, making his thrusts even more delicious. "That's it, take it," Paul grunted, his hips slapping against my ass. "Cum all over my cock, you dirty girl."

As my orgasm began to subside, Paul quickened his pace, chasing his own release. I felt his cock twitch inside her, and with a final, powerful thrust, he filled me with his hot cum. "Fuck, yes," he groaned, his body trembling as he emptied himself inside me.

But the night was far from over.

After a brief respite, Oscar led us to a more secluded area of the club. His eyes were dark with desire as he pushed me against a nearby couch, his lips capturing mine in a fierce kiss. Paul stood beside us, his eyes burning with lust as he watched his friend take what he wanted from my willing body.

Oscar broke the kiss, his breath hot on my face as he said, "Get on your knees, baby. I want your mouth."

I obeyed without hesitation, my heart pounding with anticipation. I knew Oscar loved deepthroating, and the thought of taking him all the way down my throat made my pussy drip. I looked up at him with hooded eyes, my lips parted, as I reached for the belt of his pants.

Oscar undid his belt, freeing his hard length. my eyes widened at the sight of his thick, veined cock, the head already glistening with pre-cum. I licked my lips, leaning forward to flick my tongue over the sensitive tip. "Mmm," I moaned, tasting the salty sweetness of him. "I've been waiting all night for this."

I took him into my mouth, sucking slowly, bobbing my head up and down as my hands stroked his length. Oscar's hands tangled in my hair, guiding my pace as he moaned above me. "That's it, baby, just like that. Take it all."

my lips slid down his shaft, my tongue swirling as I hollowed my cheeks, taking him deeper with each stroke. I could feel his cock hit the back of my throat, and I relaxed, allowing him to slide down my throat. Oscar groaned, his hips bucking as he held me still, his cock buried deep. "Fuck, yes, that's it, take it all," he panted.

Pulling back, I sucked hard, hollowing my cheeks as I swirled my tongue. Oscar's hands tightened in my hair, guiding me in a fast, hard rhythm as he used my mouth for his pleasure. "You love that cock, don't you, baby?" he growled. "You're such a dirty little cock slut."

"Mmm-hmm," I hummed around his shaft, my eyes flashing with desire. "I love it, Oscar. I love sucking your big cock."

Paul stood beside them, stroking his hardening cock as he watched the erotic display. "Damn, that's fucking hot," he muttered. "Seeing her mouth wrapped around your cock is making me hard again, Oscar."

A wicked smile curved Oscar's lips as he pulled me off his cock, a strand of saliva connecting our mouths. "I think it's time for that double penetration I've been craving, don't you?"

my pussy clenched at his words, the thought of being filled by both men at once sending a thrill through my body. I nodded eagerly, my eyes shining with anticipation. "Please, yes. Fuck me, both of you. I want it so bad."

Oscar positioned me on my hands and knees on the couch, my ass raised in the air, my pussy exposed and glistening with my juices. "Ride that cock, Paul," he instructed, his eyes sparkling with lust. "I'm gonna stretch her throat while you pound that tight pussy."

Paul lined himself up, sliding into my wet heat with ease. I moaned, my eyes fluttering closed as I felt myself stretched around his thickness once again. Oscar guided my head down onto his cock, holding me still as he thrust his hips, fucking my mouth hard and fast.

The sensation of being filled at both ends pushed me closer to the edge. I felt Paul's hands grip my hips, setting a brutal pace as he slammed into me. Oscar's cock pumped in and out of my mouth, his balls slapping against my chin. "That's it," Oscar grunted. "Take it, you dirty slut. Take both our cocks."

The sounds of their grunts and my muffled moans filled the room. “So dirty for us, such a slut” Oscar grunted. His words sent me over the edge. I cried out around Oscar's cock as my orgasm ripped through me, my body shaking with the force of it. Paul roared his release, his cum shooting deep inside me as he rode out his orgasm.

With a final, hard thrust, Oscar held my head down on his shaft, his hips bucking as he filled my mouth with his hot load. I swallowed, milking him with my mouth as he groaned my name.

Collapsing onto the couch, all three of us panted, a tangle of sweaty, satisfied bodies. I smiled, my body buzzing with satisfaction. This was definitely a night I would never forget.

—————

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[adriennefrombrooklyn]

And it came to pass, that on this day, all of us Paul sick Paul hurt Paul in pain Paul crying weirdos were deemed worthy of blessing

[crescenthistory]

c5 with paul atreides please 🫶🫶

ah, paul atreides, my favourite childhood best friends to lovers man. hope this is what you were imagining, love<3

Prompt: C.5 "There will not be a day where I am not there for you"

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: canon typical political unrest and tension, paul and reader have a lot on their shoulders, reader gets sick, implied chronic illness/flare-up/autoimmune reader but can be read as a normal fever (i'm indulging myself okay), hiding/avoidance, confrontation if you squint, hurt/comfort, they are in the unspoken stage between best friends and lovers, confessions of love, crying session, cuddles and kisses

The days on Caladan felt numbered.

Everywhere you looked, the subtle reminders of impending change crept in like shadows. The halls of Castle Caladan, once warm and full of life, felt quieter now, more solemn. The sea beyond the window still whispered its familiar lullaby, but even that seemed muted, like it was holding its breath, waiting.

Thus, you waited too, feeling the weight of the future settle over the estate like a shroud. Arrakis loomed on the horizon, distant but unavoidable. You could see it in every furrow of Duke Leto’s brow, in the way Lady Jessica moved with a deliberate grace that betrayed her own hidden tension.

Most of all, you saw it in Paul.

Your closest friend, your confidant since childhood. He carried the weight of all that was to come more heavily than anyone. It showed in the slight weariness under his eyes, the way his normally steady hands trembled when he thought no one was looking. He hadn’t spoken of it directly to you, not yet, but you knew him too well to be fooled.

The Paul of your memories – the boy who would laugh with you in secret corners of the castle, who would pull you into the sea on a whim, clothes and all – was slipping away, bit by bit. In his place stood a man, shoulders squared with responsibility, eyes far too wise for someone so young. It was a transformation that frightened you, not just because it meant losing the boy you once knew, but because you weren’t sure whether anyone could truly withstand all that waited him. Whether anyone would even notice how much it was wearing him down. Anyone but you.

It was why you were careful, watching him as you always did, trying to gauge when the weight would become too much. You had become a fixture in his life over the years, someone he could rely on when the pressures of being Duke Leto’s heir seemed too heavy to bear. A constant.

The days leading up to the move to Arrakis felt heavier, their passage marked by subtle shifts in the air. Paul was being pulled in so many directions – meetings, preparations, plans – and you saw him less and less. Worry grew in your stomach, but, as always, the two of you cut out time for each other, even if only a quiet hug for a few minutes in a corner somewhere.

Which is why, when you first felt the dizziness creeping in, the strange bouts of fatigue that left you breathless and weak, you kept it to yourself.

At first, it didn’t seem like much. Just a few moments of light-headedness, easily dismissed. You brushed off the way the room swayed, grounded yourself by gripping the edges of tables or leaning discreetly against the walls. When Paul looked at you, concern flickering in his eyes, you waved it away with a smile, pretending it was nothing. He had enough to worry about – you refused to add to it. Not when he was already carrying so much.

As the days passed, though, it became harder to hide. Your body betrayed you in small ways – your steps slower, your hands unsteady when you reached for things. The ever-present ache in your bones was becoming harder to ignore. You found yourself avoiding the castle’s common spaces, spending more time in your room, curled up in bed, trying to will away the growing sickness that had taken hold of you.

Even the servants noticed, their eyes lingering on you with concern as they brought trays of food you barely touched. It was not uncommon for you to grow sick occasionally, there was a running joke around the castle about your weak immune system, and usually the servants would let Paul know if you stayed in your room. This time, though, you gave them strict instructions not to speak of it to anyone, especially not Paul. He didn’t need to know. He didn’t need this on top of everything else.

You could handle it. You always handled it.

Yes, you kept it to yourself. Unfortunately, to achieve that, you also kept to yourself.

***

The evening sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the walls of your bedroom. You had not left the room in two days. The curtains were drawn tight, blocking out the golden light that you usually loved. Today, the brightness hurt your eyes, each beam of sunlight sharp as it hit your feverish skin.

You had barely eaten, your appetite vanishing as the sickness rooted itself deeper. It was more than just the fatigue now – your stomach churned, and your head pounded with every small movement. Beams of pain adorned your lower forehead, temples and eyesockets, and no amount of massaging seemed to help.

You told yourself the words Paul had always whispered to you on days like this; it will be fine, it is temporary, you are safe. You just need some rest.

It didn't have the same effect.

As you shifted under the blankets, trying to find a more comfortable position, you heard a quiet knock on the door. You froze. The knock was too familiar – soft, hesitant, but with a certainty that told you exactly who it was. Your tried to bite down a groan all the while your heart squeezed.

It was Paul.

This was the longest period of time you had gone without seeing each other in ages, and not from a lack of trying on his part. You knew his schedule by heart and had purposefully lived around it for the past week before you finally caved and retreated to your bed to get over this bout of sickness. Even there, you had the servants tell him you were elsewhere, should he ever ask them.

It was not that you did not miss him terribly nor a disdain for him seeing you sick – you had worked together to get over equating sickness with weakness in your head. However, a part of you clearly still saw it as a burden, because your heart ached at the thought of worrying him with this.

You could not hide forever, though, and now here he was. You felt oddly unprepared to face him as you scurried up, fixing your hair and trying to put on a more assured smile.

When you didn't respond to the knock, the door creaked open slightly, and Paul slipped inside. His eyes found you immediately, and you could see the worry in them as he took in your pale face and the heap of blankets surrounding you that seemed to scream I am hiding from the world.

"Hi, my love," he whispered, and you responded with a greeting yourself, sounding weaker than you had hoped.

He closed the door quietly behind him, his movements deliberate and calm, but you could sense the tension beneath his composed exterior.

“You’ve been avoiding me." His voice was low, soft but with a quiet accusation woven through it.

You swallowed, trying to summon the energy to continue to smile, to pretend like everything was fine. “No, no, I haven’t been avoiding you,” you lied. “I’ve just been… resting.”

Paul’s brow furrowed slightly, and he crossed the room with slow, careful steps until he stood at the edge of your bed. He looked down at you, his gaze searching, as if he could see through the weak façade you were putting up. He sat down beside you on the bed, body angled towards you, and reached for your hand.

His touch was gentle, cool against your feverish skin. “Resting...” he echoed, his thumb brushing across the back of your hand. “Because you're sick. Why didn’t you tell me?”

You flinched inwardly. Of course, he knew. He always knew. Paul was nothing if not observant, especially when it came to you. You had been foolish to think you could hide this from him for long.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you admitted, voice barely a whisper. “You have so much going on right now. With Arrakis, with your father… I just didn’t want to add to your burdens.”

Paul’s expression softened, though the worry in his eyes remained. He shook his head slightly, as if unable to comprehend what you were saying. “You think you can ever be a burden to me?”

You didn’t respond immediately, because a part of you did feel like a burden, no matter how irrational it may be. Paul had so much on his plate already – how could you possibly ask him to worry about you on top of everything else?

Paul’s hand tightened around yours at your prolonged silence, attempting to ground you, pull you out of your spiraling thoughts. He sighed, a soft, weary sound, and then he spoke, his voice tinged with a quiet desperation you hadn’t expected.

“You are not a burden, my love. There will not be a day where I am not there for you – you just have to let me.”

The words hit you like a wave, gentle but powerful, their weight sinking deep into your chest. Paul’s gaze never left you even when yours flickered from nerves. In that moment, you saw the truth in his eyes. He wasn’t just saying it to comfort you, he meant it with every part of him. There was a fierce honesty in his voice, a promise.

"I'm sorry, Paul," you began, unsure of how to phrase yourself. "I just really did not want to worry you more than you already are."

“I was more worried when I didn’t see you,” he continued softly. “When I didn’t know what was wrong. To not know how you are or what is going on hurts more than anything else.”

Your breath caught in your throat, guilt and relief swirling together in a confusing mixture. You hadn’t realized how much your absence could affect him. Paul always seemed so steady, so unshakable, but now, as he sat beside you, his hand still holding yours with that familiar tenderness, you could see the vulnerability in his eyes. There was a fear there that you wanted to smooth away, the fear of losing you, of not being able to help.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, dragging your intertwined hands closer to your body. "I didn’t mean to make things harder for you. Quite the opposite, actually.”

Paul sighed again, this time softer, and he shifted closer, so his side was flush against yours. You moved some of the blankets around so there would be no barricade for him, your breathing somehow already easier at his presence. His hand left yours only for a moment, but you immediately missed the warmth of his touch. He reached up to cup your cheek, tilting your face so you were forced to meet his gaze again.

“You could never make things harder for me. You are what make things easier” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “You are my anchor. Without you…”

He trailed off, but the weight of what he didn’t say hung in the air between you. Without you, he’d be lost. Without you, the pressures of his future, of the impending move to Arrakis, might consume him entirely.

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, and you blinked them away, not wanting to cry in front of him. Paul saw the flicker of emotion and leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. His breath was warm against your skin, his closeness comforting in a way that words could never be.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was a whisper, eyes searching yours. "Be honest."

You let out an almost teary-laugh, overwhelmed by emotion. "Terrible, quite frankly. My body is aching and I feel like I'm on a boat."

Paul hummed, thumb still brushing your cheek. "Would it help to lay further down?" He always knew.

You tried to nod, but frowned when the movement caused you more pain. Paul immediatley leaned forward to kiss away the furrow of your brows, knowing the tension usually worsens your headache, and then went to help you lay down in a better position. With your heads laid on the same pillow, Paul held your waist with one hand and your face with another, trying to massage out any tension.

“You don’t have to protect me,” he whispered, voice low and steady, wrapping around you as much as his comforting embrace. “Not from this. Not from you. Even now, with everything – especially now actually – you are the one thing I need.”

His words settled over you, soothing the ache in your chest, yet stirring something deeper, something raw that you had tried so hard to suppress. The weight of everything – the move, the sickness, your unwavering care for him – all of it was bearing down on you, but hearing Paul speak with such sincerity, seeing the tenderness in his eyes, it made something inside you break. The kind of break you could only do around him, because you knew in your heart you were safe to do so.

You exhaled shakily, feeling the tears that had been threatening to spill finally break free. A small sob escaped your throat before you could stop it, and suddenly, it was as if the floodgates had opened. The tears came in earnest now, unbidden and unstoppable, all the emotions you had kept hidden pouring out.

Paul didn’t flinch, he didn’t pull away. Instinctively he pulled you closer to him, gathering you gently into his chest, his movements slow and careful, so as to not hurt or startle you. He held you close, head against his chest, his warmth enveloping you, his heart beating steadily beneath your ear. He moved to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he whispered soft, soothing words you couldn’t quite make out over the sound of your own quiet sobs.

You had not realised just how much you had been holding in until this moment, how badly you had needed him. The world outside felt too heavy, too uncertain, but here, in his arms, you felt safe. The weight you had been carrying melted away, leaving only the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat and the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek.

“I’m here,” Paul murmured softly, his voice soothing, as if the words themselves could hold you together. “I’m right here. I'm not going anywhere, I'm with you.”

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, letting the sound of his voice calm the storm of emotions inside you. The soft, rhythmic strokes of his fingers in your hair, the way his hand pressed gently into the small of your back, holding you against him. Everything about his presence was grounding, reminding you that you are not alone. You never had been.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered after a long moment, your voice thick with emotion, though the tears had finally begun to slow. “I didn’t mean to–”

“Shh,” he interrupted gently, his lips brushing the top of your head in the softest of gestures. “You don’t need to apologise.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your eyes still glassy from the tears. His face was close, his expression softer than you had ever seen it. His usually composed features, now filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. His thumb brushed a stray tear from your cheek, and he offered you a small, reassuring smile.

“I was just trying to give you space,” you said quietly, your voice hoarse from crying. “You’ve been dealing with so much, and I didn’t want to add to it.”

Paul’s brow furrowed slightly, as though he fundamentally could not understand how you could view yourself or your relationship that way. His hand still rested on your cheek, his touch light but steady.

“I know what’s happening around us is overwhelming,” he admitted, careful, like he didn’t want the weight of the words to fall too heavily between you. “But I’m not leaving Caladan behind to face Arrakis alone. I need you with me. In spirit as much as in person.”

“Oh, Paul,” you breathed, his name slipping from your lips like a quiet confession. You searched his eyes, unsure of what to say, unsure if you could even find the words for everything you were feeling. You moved one of your hands that was clutching his shirt up to trace his face.

You could see in his eyes that he knew everything you wanted to say. He had always known.

“I’ve always needed you, my love,” he whispered, his gaze unwavering, the intensity of his words cutting through the quiet of the room. “Not just now. Not because of Arrakis. I’ve needed you for as long as I can remember. Please just let me.”

The tears that had begun to dry on your cheeks threatened to return, but this time, they weren’t tears of sorrow or guilt. They were tears of relief, of knowing you never had and never would be alone in your care for him. Paul is there for you, just as you are there for him. Paul will worry for you, just as you were there for him.

"I'll let you, if you let me." There was a slight teasing smile on your lips, though its effect was lessened my the glossiness that remained in your eyes.

"I swear to."

You hummed, ducking your head back down to hide in his neck, breathing both him and the moment in.

“I'm afraid of it,” you admitted softly, your voice trembling. “Afraid of just how much I need you, even if you need me too.”

Paul’s expression softened even more, if that was possible. He gently tugged your face back up to meet his, so he could rest his forehead against yours and cup your cheek. His closeness was dizzying – but you much preferred this form of dizziness. You felt tethered to him in a way you had never felt with anyone else, like the two of you were the only ones in this vast, overwhelming world who truly understood one another.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmured, lips almost brushing yours due to your proximity. “Not with me.”

Your breath hitched, your heart racing against his as you looked into his eyes. His thumb brushed across your cheek again, his touch as soft as ever, and before you could stop yourself, before you could dare to think twice, you closed the gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a tentative, gentle kiss.

Paul responded immediately, his hand moving to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a slow, deliberate tenderness. The kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t frantic – it was filled with years of unspoken longing, of quiet moments that had been leading up to this. It was a kiss that felt like home, like something you had been waiting for without even realising it.

When you pulled back, your foreheads still resting together, both of you breathing softly, you felt the weight of everything lift, if only for a moment. It all faded into the background, leaving only the two of you, together, in the quiet safety of this moment.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, echoing the unspoken promise between you. “Not without you.”

Paul’s lips quirked into a small, almost boyish smile, the kind you hadn’t seen from him in so long. He pulled you into his chest again, wrapping his arms around you in a tight, reassuring embrace. You could feel the tension leaving his body, as if holding you like this had given him the strength he had been searching for.

"Take care of me, Paul?" you whispered, knowing now that this is what he needed.

He sighed, relieved, whispering a yes, please into your hair before placing a series of kisses there, holding you unbelievably tighter. His hands went back to massaging your neck and temples, moving languidly as he did anything he could think of to make you more comfortable in the moment.

For a long while, neither of you said anything. You simply stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside your door quiet and distant. This was the kind of rest you had truly been needing.

“I will always be here for you,” Paul whispered against your hair again, as if he needed to reassure himself of it. “I swear it.”

"And I you, my love."

You held him closer, letting your eyes drift shut and your body aches ease. You let yourself believe him. Because you knew, deep down, that this wasn’t just another comforting assurance. It was a vow, one that would last long beyond the move to Arrakis. 

No matter what storms came, no matter what weight the future held, you and Paul would face them together.

[nipuni]

OH my god we just watched Dr.Who "Human Nature" and "Family of Blood"