#this is the only man named paul that i trust | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kiss-me-muchoo · 2 months ago

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𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 || 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ Hanno, the man you loved, was getting married, you left Numidia and when he found you again, you were married to one of the emperors of Rome.

warnings_ historical inaccuracy, vague semi public sex, angst, sexism and misogyny, fluff but angst, a lot of canon divergence bc I said so, FLUFF, no proofread.

notes_ pls listen to mermaids and queen of peace from Florence + The Machine, there’s so many Paul Mescal type of vibe songs

♫ ♪ Paul playlist

✰ Index (+ fics here)

𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸

The sun burned your skin, often leaving carmine splotches across your shoulders, arms, and neck. But you loved collecting shells and finding pearls to sell. The water was warm as well but soothed the heat of the sun.

Loneliness wasn’t a stranger. Being a kid in the sandy streets all alone, with no family made you judgmental.

It was a fluke that you knew how to speak in Masri, Etruscan, and Latin. With an uncertain origin, you could only guess that you might have come from Egypt or Etruria Padana.

As a teenager, you arrived in Numidia, where you found a job that made you a pioneer in the waters.

Everyone let their hands get wet to fish. But barely, they took the time to dig deeper and for a longer period to collect shells, oysters, and fascinating underwater treasures.

Over the years, you earned the names of “siren” or “sea foam woman”. The children enjoyed your stories of mermaids and sailors in mysterious waters, making you a trustworthy friend to almost everyone in Numidia.

“Imagine the sunset as if someone had splotched pink, orange, and purple over the aquamarine sea,” you say pointing at the shore. “That’s when all of the mermaids swam to the surface and played”

The children giggle and you chuckle, feeling that you shake as doing so, you quickly look down at the sleeping baby in your arms, wondering if you have woken him up. False alarm. Her mother, Nessarea, was a good friend of yours and she trusted you enough to leave her kid as she worked trimming satin in the market.

“But when they looked around, they found a big ship full of sailors. The mermaids got scared and hid…”

“Did the sailors hurt them?” A little girl with braids asked.

“No, dear. The sailors proposed a deal. They would visit the mermaids once a year and take one of them. In exchange, treasures would be given”

“And that’s why you’re here, y/n! You’re a mermaid and the sailors took you!” Soon an adult masculine laugh was mixed with yours, making you frown and look around. Only to find an unmistakable pair of blue eyes looking at you. That makes your smile grow and your heart to warmth.

“I’m not certain about that, little one” The boy makes a pout and at a certain distance you hear a bamboo flute. The sign of mothers calling their children to go home.

“No, y/n. You have to tell us who was the first mermaid to go with the sailors. Or else we’ll assume it was you “

“I’ll keep it a secret for tonight” you finalize, standing up and saying goodbye to each child. You watch them run away, to the village. And it’s only you and the baby in your arms, who started squirming and stretching.

And your dear Hanno.

“Parents will come and complain to you…” he says, remaining seated on a big rock and looking in awe at you.

“Let the children believe in fantasy while they can” you answer, tending the baby and smiling at his tiny hands forming fists. “Soon they’ll understand I am no mermaid”

“Hardly. Every day there’s a sea foam woman on the shore…” you glare at him with disdain, only to laugh again. He made space for you to sit beside him. And for some minutes he would only look at you taking care of the baby.

“How did you know I was here?” You ask eyeing him. Subtly he blushes.

“It isn’t a secret you gather all the children to tell them tells” you chuckle.

“Like a star chases the sun…” you say resting your head on his shoulder. Which he finds lovely. “You always find me, Hanno”

“And I will always will…”

Hanno was a reserved man. You met him years ago when he also arrived in Numidia. He was lonely like you, rarely spoke about his past, and claimed to be centered in the present.

“Here… I brought you something” he said, digging his hand under the pocket of his tunic. He took out a necklace. Made with shells you had collected.

“Hanno… this is beautiful. It must have costed a lot. You shouldn’t…” you almost whisper, holding the piece of art with one hand and looking at it in love.

Just like you were with him.

“It’s a present, y/n. No inquires in the cost”

“Thanks. I truly love it…” he nods, urging you to lift your hair so he can place the necklace around your neck.

You look at the shore again, now almost in complete darkness. But soon you get lost as you feel his calloused fingers in your exposed skin. He was a farmer, with tanned skin, burnt blonde hair, and a beard that made him look like a Roman prince.

It was a mystery the day you fell in love with him. As well as when you would confess it.

“What is he doing?” Hanno asks after putting the necklace around you. You frown confused but soon you understand. The baby in your arms wanted to grab his beard. “Ajay likes you, Hanno”

The man looks carefully at the baby. He wasn’t around children very often. But he enjoyed how well you handled them. It made him want a family. And he often wondered if you wanted the same. With him…

Little Ajay wrapped his tiny hand around Hanno’s finger and it made your heart swell.

“I’m getting a piece of the land where we have the green sprouts” he announces and it makes you squeal in happiness. “Hanno, that’s the most exciting news!”

“I’m having a home” he realized as you were ushering to hug him, slightly sandwiching Ajay.

Hanno bit his tongue, almost saying what he dreamed. Asking if you wanted to be part of his home.

…

When rain fell upon the dry and arid land of Numidia, you felt superstitious, feeling it was a bad omen.

You hadn’t seen Hanno in a couple of days. The last time you saw him he said he would come and visit you. The spring nights you spent together made you realize how in love you were. It was uncertain if Hanno loved you back but you thought it might have been mutual. Because of the way his eyes locked on yours, the way his hands carefully traced some spots on your body, the smiles that felt very personal to you.

Hanno made you feel special. He was your best friend. The person you would sacrifice for and the one who could take out your heart as dramatic as it sounded.

“You’ve waited for him for days, y/n,” Nessarea said, rocking Ajay in her arms as she patted your shoulder. “Are you gonna tell him about the matron?”

“It depends…” you answer, sighing, looking at the valley in front of you. The clothes hanging, waiting to get dry swayed with the warm air.

“On what?”

“I’m telling him I love him. If Hanno loves me back, I will forget about the matron” The old woman from the elite saw you dancing and asked if you knew how to write and read. You knew the minimum because Hanno taught you, but you needed more. She claimed she could educate you, but not in Numidia. She didn’t tell you where.

“You really love him that much?” Nessarea asked.

“So much that I would remain in ignorance just to be with him”

“I would’ve done the same for Calisto” Your friend had lost his husband before Ajay was born. You felt terrible for her, as she had also been in love.

“You can love again, Nessarea. Calisto will always be yours. But you can be happy again, Ajay too…” you say kissing the baby’s head.

When you turn around, you see Hanno walking through the hanging clothes and a smile appears.

“He’s here!” You announce, literally running outside the little hut, straight to his arms.

He accepts your embrace and you hear him chuckling.

“You worried me, Hanno!” you say after breaking the hug, giving him a little punch on his strong chest. “You took so long to come over”

“I’m sorry” he didn’t look as happy as he was when he first saw you. You sensed he even looked nervous. “I’ve been busy”

“Let’s go inside, it’s raining” You take his hand but he doesn’t follow you. Which makes you turn around and look again at him, expectantly.

“I’m getting married to Arishat” the oxygen drained from your lungs. Your smile disappeared and Hanno noticed it. “Her father made the offer last night and I couldn’t say no”

Arishat was a couple of years older than you, the same age as Hanno. Her father was a warrior and they were native from Numidia but they were away for some time. They arrived back a couple of months ago and Hanno started working with his father, where he met the woman.

“You couldn’t say no? Hanno, you can’t marry someone you don’t love”

“I guess I’ll learn to love her. Because it is-….” he was so close to saying that the one he loved was you.

“A matron saw me dancing a couple of days ago. We met and she wants to educate me” The decision was taken, Hanno had decided. Rage filled you, taking a step back, marking the distance between you and the man.

“A matron? Likely a filthy Roman scum” you frown at his words, crossing your arms.

“You’re not happy that I’m getting educated? That I’ll stop being just a woman that gets wet to put a damn piece of bread on that creaky table?” You spat out, pointing at the table that could be seen inside the hut.

“You know it’s not like that, y/n…” Hanno sighed, brushing his hair in exasperation. “You’re perfect just like you are, with the things you do…”

“Well, I want more” Hanno could feel the venom in your voice, he could see the coldness growing in your eyes and the distance you had placed.

You sigh, knowing it’s over. He’s getting married to a strong woman, one that everyone loved and praised along her family, and he would be happy as time passed. If he agreed to marry someone he barely knew was because he didn’t love you as you thought. Just as a friend…

“Congratulations on the engagement,” you say leaning to grab your empty basket, ready to go and collect shells, even in the pouring rain. “I truly hope you’re very happy with her”

“Come back, y/n…” you hear him calling you as your steps grow further. Tears swell in your eyes and you grab the basket even harder, hoping it would dissipate your need to scream in agony. “Please, y/n…”

Your figure slowly disappeared through the meadows, no longer a picture in the valley.

He screamed that he loved you. Hoping you would come back.

But you didn’t.

And hopefully this time he wouldn’t find you.

That night Hanno came back, willing to break the proposal and stay with you, but Nessarea opened the door with teary eyes, revealing you were gone. You promised to keep her and Ajay safe. Hanno found your basket of shells, all of them cracked, and only one of them remained untouched.

He wanted to cry out in desperation. If he would’ve said it when he had you in front of him, if he had chosen better words, if he had run faster, but he kept that cream iridescent shell under his tunic. Promising to hold on to your memory.

…

Promicia was the name of the matron that took you under her wing. After a month by her side, your hair was trimmed, and your skin felt like silk, unburnt. Your body was covered in fine fabrics, and she even arranged to get you a pair of earrings made of gold.

Promicia was cold, even heartless. But she was willing to make you shine just to make her name go even up higher leagues.

And she did it.

She made you forget everything you knew about Numidia. The siren everyone claimed to know actually turned into sea foam, to never be seen again. She washed away, melting away, to overseas.

“Keep your chin up and shoulders straight, girl,” Promicia said coldly. “I want you to look perfect when we arrive at the palace”

“Yes, dominus”

Even when you forgot who you were before arriving in Rome, you constantly remembered Nessarea as well as Ajay.

And Hanno. But as soon as you were reminded that he married, that he already had a home. Your blood boiled, to then succumb into sadness. Hence why you preferred to avoid his memory. Only resulting in pain.

And when Promicia announced that one of the emperors of Rome was interested in you, you had no time to go back to the past.

Your steps were confident as you ascended through the stairs of the most exotic and ostentatious place you’ve ever been to. The guards had luxurious uniforms, the carpets were perfectly handmade and when you reached the top, two red-haired men were standing there.

One was taller, with fine makeup around his eyes and cheekbones. The other had messy hair, a crown with leaves, and a little monkey resting on his shoulder. Their names are Geta and Caracalla.

You wondered which of the two twins was the one that wanted you.

Promicia ushered you to wait behind. She walked towards the twins and knelt, talking in Latin with them. You understood she was saying you came from Egypt, that you could read, write, sing, play the lyre, and dance as well as speak three languages.

You had no desire to fall in love again but if Promicia could secure you would have a shiny future, with power and security, you would give in.

“Come closer, girl…” the old woman called you and you obeyed. “Kneel down in respect of our emperors…”

You do as she says, your cream dress pooling on the floor. You look down, completely nervous but eager to know what will happen.

The fabric with dark blue and embroidered golden details appear in your view. You understand it’s Geta the one that is interested in you.

“Look at me, says” You raise your head slowly, matching his brown eyes. “What do you want?” Emperor Geta asked, his fingers resting on your chin, with his cold rings sending shivers down your spine.

“Mercy I implore…” he smiles at you and it’s evil, but loving at the same time. Like he has found something he could win over his twin brother.

And to you, it meant leaving the sea foam woman behind. A mermaid was taken away from the island, her teeth sharpening, ready to sink in whoever’s men tried to defy her. Even when it was the Roman Empire.

…

The count was lost after the third fig you ate. It was hot and dry and it made you feel irritated.

One day ago Acacius returned to Rome after conquering Numidia. Which led to having a doting husband that was beyond happy.

“Today we’ll see the new gladiators in the celebration and tomorrow the games will begin” Geta announced stepping behind the chair you were sitting at. Your eyes wandered into the mausoleum that was visible from the terrace of the palace, but soon you were distracted by the lips of your husband, leaving a trail of kisses. From your cheek to your neck.

“You’re excited, vita mea,” you say, tilting your head, giving him more space to wander. He pretends to innocently stop his kisses near your cleavage. Making you huff.

“You seem excited too…” he said chuckling, oblivious that you cared for him, but what you enjoyed with him was far from being devoted. “We’re leaving early today, y/n. Just after the entertainment…”

You hated Roman entertainment. You couldn’t feel nor see the thrill of witnessing death, violence, and chaos. But your husband loved it.

It wasn’t perfect, both of you often argued. But you always find a way to make up: with sex.

“Sure, my dear,” you say, turning around to kiss him on the lips. He soon leaves with a giant smile on his face.

Geta was head over heels for you. Sometimes he would use you to show off, especially to his brother.

But he stopped getting involved in orgies or requesting whores just because of you. He was extremely possessive but tender. Always make time for yourself and value your opinion. Which you took advantage of.

Weeks ago, when you learned Geta and Caracalla would send their army to Numidia. You had to beg General Acacius to take a longer route. Only that way your message to Nessarea would arrive in time for her to escape. The General was hesitant but as soon you got naked he changed his mind.

Upon his return, you cherished him with a hot and steamy welcome, sneaking out of the strong grip of your husband.

You wondered if Hanno made it alive. He was always good at self-defense, but if he tried to go against the Roman Empire, he would lose. You even prayed for General Acacius to survive the attack, above your once dear Hanno.

And you had grown fond of Geta. A weak emperor like his brother. Often clueless about what to do with the power they had. Making them a naïve pair. But he was nice to you, treating you like an empress.

You barely looked at the gladiators fighting and tearing the fancy tables filled with food. You hated looking at violence with no point, no reason to be. So you moved away, sneaking through the people to get the side of your husband.

Geta praised the anger of the gladiators. And he was very interested in one brought from Numidia. You heard he was insatiable, biting animals and killing without mercy.

So hearing Geta applauding to the spectacle said man had done, made you roll your eyes as you passed through people that mostly made reverences to you.

You had no desire to look up and see who was the man that had half of Rome intrigued.

Until he started reciting poetry. It made your steps slower, it made you feel cautious and spied on.

“Smooth is the descent, and easy is the way…”

“Psyche followed a path to prove her love to Eros. Like a star chases the sun…” you suddenly gasp. Turning to where the voice came from. You look terrified when you meet the eyes of the gladiator speaking. Saying the story you always loved.

Hanno is there, breathing for air, sweating, with blood dripping. He looks hurt, tired, enraged. But he had eyed you before you did, transmitting some hope and shock to you.

And it didn’t go unnoticed by your husband.

“What nonsense is this poet saying?” Geta asks with anger well hidden, possessively hurrying to grab you by the waist.

“He bit a monkey, he might have caught a disease, Amica mea” you whisper, acting stupid, pretending to be careless and clueless, like you don’t know the bloody man steps away from you was never important to you.

Hanno looks disappointed by your reaction. He stepped back, looking lost.

“Hmm…” Geta is not convinced, but you calm him well enough to let the matter die.

But you are in shambles. As soon as the celebration is over, you send Geta to wait for you in the palace. But you go straight to Macrinus, who was almost gone.

“I would like to talk to your gladiator” he turns around and smiles proudly.

“He put on a show today. How did you like it?” you have to force a smile and pretend to be excited.

“Oh, it was marvelous. I can’t wait to see what he’s doing tomorrow on the first day of the games. Because you’re bringing him, right?” Macrinus nods. “Of course, your highness”

“Good. I wish to see him. The poetry he recited was very touching. I must know where it comes to that charm” Macrinus believes your lie and nods again.

“Of course, follow me…”

…

You ended up in a bathhouse. Macrinus said Hanno was given a private room since he won the fight. Also said he was having a meeting and then would come back for his gladiators. So you didn’t have enough time.

And with four guards that had the order of not letting anyone inside until you came out, you reunited every strength you had to step inside.

A door creaked and soon you heard the sound of water splashing. When you looked up, you pulled your cloak down and finally met the man who had you in crisis.

“Y/n…” his voice echoed, sounding deeper and hypnotizing.

“Why are you here?” Your clumsy steps made you look nervous, which Hanno quickly noticed. “Who sent you to Macrinus?”

“Numidia was conquered” he simply replied, eyeing at you. Realizing how much you had changed. Your once-free hair was trapped in a weird hairstyle and a crown of leaves and flowers. Your dress looked expensive and your skin was in perfect condition. Certainly looks like royalty.

“I know that”

“Perhaps because you formed part of the decision” that makes you frown.

“I’m not involved in the military issues of Rome” you coldly answer.

“You married the emperor?” He asks, mocking you. But you could also play the same game. Even if it didn’t have an effect on him. Or so you thought.

“Where’s your lady?” He looks down, visibly pissed off.

“She didn’t make it...” you cannot feel anything. “Your beloved General commanded her death under the call of your husband and his brother”

“I’m sorry” you lie.

“No, you don’t. You’ve joined their cause. You became empress of an empire that is ruled by violence and blood” You roll your eyes.

“You know who was in my head when the opportunity presented?” You ask sharply, causing Hanno to remain quiet. “Nessarea and Ajay”

Your statement makes the place turn into eternal silence. He is thinking and it makes you anxious.

“I would do anything to go back to that day and say what I actually wanted…” he doesn’t add more details because is not necessary. “And stop you from leaving”

“I wouldn’t be alive” you answer quickly, opting to not pry about what he wanted to say the day you left. You were unable to fight, and if Rome had attacked with you there, you would’ve died or ended up as a whore, servant or slave. “And my friend with her baby neither”

“Where is she?” Hanno asks with curiosity.

“She settled to the north. Where snow falls in the winter and foreign widows are welcome” With honesty, Hanno felt happiness for the woman and his kid. And that made him feel guilty. Because maybe, deep down, under the ostentatious look you carried, there was the sea foam woman he met. Forced to forget who she was.

“I never asked why you knew all that poetry…” Hanno smirks, ending with a sad smile. “You just know half the truth, y/n”

“That’s why you wanted my attention back at the celebration?” Your voice holds a lot of resentment towards him. Hanno can’t say he doesn’t understand why. But he was also mad at you for becoming a full Roman woman.

“I made you a promise. To always find you no matter what” You walk closer, but as soon as you realize he’s naked underwater, you stop and look away, to the stone wall.

“What’s the point? You’re basically a slave and even if you buy your freedom, I married an emperor” his blood boils. His visible hand forms a fist and it makes you question if he was jealous.

“He doesn’t love you” you chuckle, ignoring your previous shame and taking a seat on the edge of the pool. You would see if you could push some of his buttons.

“Oh, he does love me. He treats me like a queen and always asks for my opinion. He kisses me with adoration and fucks me with devotion…” his jaw tenses at your words and you have to hide your grin.

Both of you are killing each other with your looks. He taps his index finger against the warm edge of the pool, angered. And when you least expect it, his arms come out and drag you down into the water, making you gasp in shock.

“You foolish idiot!” He possessively grabs you by the waist and makes you straddle him, colliding with his chest.

Your dress and hair are drenched, you feel heavy but you don’t miss the way he was holding you. And you know it’s sudden but you have to know something.

“Tell me the truth. You’re the missing prince? The son of Lucilla?” you whisper in his lips, he nods, holding your hips in place. “Hanno is not your real name”

“No. My name is Lucius Verus Aurelius” The shock is great, taking you in the curve. “You have to be very careful”

“I don’t care. But I can’t stand looking at you by the arm of that witless man. I don’t want the General touching you, I don’t want that emperor claiming you his” you smirk.

“But I’m not yours…” he leans forward, eyeing you with a deep gaze that makes you shiver.

“You were mine since the day we met” and he kissed you. “I was a fool for not saying how much I loved you”

“What?” You ask, freezing. “What are you saying?”

“That I love you. I always did” he admits proudly, but also slightly shy. “I wanted to make you part of the home I built. Every time I saw you with Ajay and the other kids, I thought of a family with you. I came back after we argued, willing to break my engagement because I wanted to be with you. But you were gone”

It’s too much. You feel the tears rolling down and before you can clean them, Lucius does it.

“Don’t cry, satis. Now I realize it’s all my fault” his broken smile tears your heart, suddenly making you feel disgusted with what you have become. “But is the truth, my dear y/n”

“Damn you, Lucius Verus Aurelius” you curse between sobs, leaning to kiss him again. His hand softly traced your cheek and the other caressed the skin of your hips.

You let him throw the dress to the floor, the heavy wet sound drenching the carpet.

And as Lucius makes love to you, you realize you’ll never let him go. And you’ll hardly see him dying in the arena.

“I’ll come up with something. But we won’t die separated, love” you say before moaning, midway through his deep thrusts.

You realize no one felt the same way he did. No one filled you well enough, no one worshiped you like him.

He rests his forehead against yours, loving the way you looked on top of him, like an actual siren that gave him the luck of a passionate encounter.

Lucius is sure he will win his freedom. He will kill whoever he needs to make you free as well. He has no hopes of seeing you again but he realizes he had you saying his real name like a mantra. And he kisses you, swallowing your loud moan as you came on his cock.

“Gods, I love you, Lucius” you admit sighing, catching your breath and feeling how he spilled his seed deep within your walls.

“I love you too” he admits, kissing your lips with passion, and love and making a mess of saliva. He would’ve wanted to take you under different circumstances. In a bed, in peace, being free…

Soon a guard pokes his head and looks at the floor, keeping his loyal and respectful status clean.

“Your majesty, we must leave now before Emperor Geta suspects…” you sigh, looking back at Lucius.

“Hold on, Bellator meus” Grabbing his chin, trembling at the itchy feeling of his beard, he nods “Promise me to survive”

“Like a star chases the sun. I will always find my way to you, dear y/n” Giving him a quick peck, you get out of the pool. You put on the dress that was almost completely dry again.

“We’ll be together, Lucius” he nods leaning into the edge of the pool. “I know…”

“I’ll come back to see you tomorrow after the games” and with a last look, you reciprocate the smile he gave you and quickly leave the bathhouse.

That night, in his filthy cell, Lucius pleasantly sleeps, with his hand clutching the shell he kept from you. Knowing all of those nights thinking of you and praying to see you again without hope, were worth it.

_________________________________________________________

I need friends who love Paul and Pedro and Gladiator II in general. Specifically on twitter because no one appreciates the shitpost I post there

#lucius verus x reader #paul mescal #paul mescal x reader #gladiator x reader #marcus acacius x reader x lucius verus #marcus acacius x lucius verus x reader #lucius verus x reader x marcus acacius

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perlelune · 10 months ago

Text

Oblivion | Paul Atreides

There used to be beginnings and ends, nights and days, dream and reality, before the haze took over, swallowing every thought, every memory, every whisper of free will.

Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen Reader, Kynes!Reader, Mind Control, Memory Manipulation, Padishah Emperor Paul, Loss of Identity, Brainwashing, Mentions of war and religious fanaticism

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Muad’Dib leads the way.

It is what the prophecy dictates. That he is the voice from the Outer World. The one who will lead your people to paradise. The one who will turn Dune’s arid desert lands into bountiful, endless green fields.

But as your eyes rest on him, you do not see the chosen one. You do not see the Lisan Al-Ghaib. You see your friend Paul, broken, lost, his heart shattered into a million pieces due to your cousin’s absence.

He sits at the head of his bed, shadows fluttering across his delicate features from the glowglobes’ dull orange light. Wide black rings surround his sunken blue eyes, the result of his daily consumption of spice melange. Lank, greasy brown curls hang around his handsome face. A pang twists your chest. He hasn’t slept in days, has barely gotten a full night of replenishing sleep since she left on a maker’s back.

You cannot blame your cousin. Paul’s ascendency to the Golden Lion throne came at a cost. A hefty one. Promises were broken. Trust was destroyed. Only time will repair the damage that was done. Though you carry faith the two of them will find their way back to each other.

You stir the spice-coffee in the pot, straining the shimmering dark powder before pouring some in a cup. A spicy cinnamon smell coats the cool night air.

You rise and bring the cup to him.

“For you, Usul.”

A soft smile blooms on his lips as he takes a slow, weary sip.

“You make it so well,” he praises.

You glow at the compliment, returning his smile. Your grandmother used to show you and Chani how to blend coffee beans with spice and herbs. The knowledge never left you. Now, every time you feel troubled or upset, you make a fresh kettleful. A single sip of the familiar brew is enough to alleviate your frazzled nerves. Especially here, so far away from Sietch Tabr, between the strange stone walls of the Arrakeen Keep, you have craved little reminders of home more than ever before.

Fremen belong in the desert, not in peculiar tents made of marble and stone.

Paul’s brows crumple as he studies you.

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he says.

“I can get another Fremen-”

His fingers latch around your wrist, desperation sizzling under his touch.

“I prefer it to be you.” He sighs. A bone deep fatigue radiates from the sound. You halt in your tracks. You suppose you could stay a while longer. “Please, stay, your presence soothes me.”

You nod. “I’ll stay, Muad’Dib.”

Relief falls over his features.

The doors suddenly open, the guards stepping aside to let Stilgar in. He bows to Paul.

“Lisan Al-Ghaib…”

Your friend’s mouth flattens into a thin line.

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Stilgar acquiesces. He will never stop addressing Paul with reverence and admiration. None of his followers believes in him more. At times, it scares you a little. While you share the same faith, the fervor with which every Fedaykin is willing to lay their swords in his name can be frightening. Sometimes you wonder if Chani was right. How much will it take to liberate your world? How much blood will require spilling? You’re not completely naive. No war was ever won without a few casualties. Still, part of you hopes the war will end soon and peaceful times will come.

“No sign of her?” Paul asks.

A contrite expression tugs the older man’s face.

“Apologies, my liege. We scouted the Southern regions this time. We couldn’t find her. She knows the desert well. It is home to us Fremen. She will not be found…”

“...Unless she wants to be found,” you finish, grabbing the empty cup from Paul’s hands and placing it back on the table.

The faint embers of hope in Paul’s cobalt gaze flicker out. Your heart sinks, for both you and him. Though you do not wish to burden him, you miss your cousin too. Her practicality and common sense. Her strength. Without her, a piece of you is missing. A crucial one. Your mother died in childbirth and your father in battle, so both of you grew up together, close enough in age to share secrets and play together for most of your childhood.

It was Chani who taught you how to summon a worm and ride upon its back for the first time. She is the sister tragic circumstances blessed you with.

Stilgar apologizes profusely once more before taking his leave.

As soon as he’s gone, Paul’s shoulders slump.

“She hates me.”

You crouch beside him.

“She doesn’t hate you. She never could. She is your quiet in the storm, and you are hers. She will return when she is ready.”

A wry laugh escapes his lips.

“I have Irulan, my beloved wife, who is likely plotting my demise as we speak. Qizarate missionaries pressing me to take action and purge the non-believers on Aldinor. I am surrounded by foes, everywhere I look.” That distant expression he gets whenever his visions haunt him touches his face. “Blades pointed at my neck at all times, waiting for a sign of weakness to strike.”

You grab his hand, reassuring him, “You also have friends, Usul, who believe in your cause.”

“Fanatics,” he corrects bitterly.

Your chest swells with worry. You don’t like it when he questions himself as such. His cause is right. He freed Arrakis from the Harkonnen’s iron-fisted rule. He will bring peace to every world in the universe. It is written. It’s the only path forward.

“You are not alone.” His fingers squeeze around yours. Warmth rushes to your face, the realization that you’re awfully close to the Emperor striking you. You adjust the nezhoni scarf covering your hair and rise. “I shall let you rest, my Lord.”

“Stay, please.”

His tone is beseeching. Your gaze swings to the window. There, moon beams pierce through the colorful glass, scattering rainbow splashes of light across the floor. Vibrant stars pepper the dark sky, pearls lost in a sea of ink. It’s pitch black outside. You should be in your own room. Not his.

“Muad’Dib, it’s late…”

His grip on your hand tightens. When he speaks again, his tone is different. Disembodied. Powerful. Its tantalizing echo drips inside your head like honey.

“Stay,” he mumbles. You plop down on the bed, your body moving on its own, driven by the strange, irresistible thrall of Paul’s voice.

“Usul…”

He cups your cheeks.

“Sleep beside me tonight.”

“I’m not her.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“She should be with me and she isn’t. But you are.” His inflection becomes soft and inviting as he drinks you in. As if he were lumbering through the desert, parched and desperate, and you were a well overflowing with fresh water. “You are beautiful. I never noticed before.” He pauses, tracing your bottom lip. “Perhaps I should have.”

You blink, dazed. When did Paul’s face get so close to yours? You can outline each of his long lashes, the speckles of green lingering in his blue eyes.

“Paul-”

His mouth grazes yours, his thumb stroking your cheeks. It only lasts a few seconds. The warm plushness of his lips on yours yanks you back to reality. You gasp and flinch back. When you recoil, his silky tone fills your ears once more.

“Don’t fight it. You love me, remember?”

A confused whisper slips through your lips. Two parts of your mind wrestle with Paul’s words.

“I do?”

His eyes dive into yours.

“Of course, you do.”

“Of course I do,” you repeat, his tone nudging aside the doubts lurking inside your mind.

A bright smile unfurls on his lips, his lids sagging to half-mast.

“It’s like you said before. You are my quiet in the storm and I am yours.”

Right. You uttered those very same words. How could you forget?

You are Paul’s quiet in the storm. He is yours.

His mouth covers yours. It moves slowly against your own. He explores your mouth as he cradles your face. His long lashes fall over his cheekbones as he loses himself in your taste. He hums against your lips, gentle fingers touching your face. You don’t move, eyes half-open as you let it happen. It’s foreign, the sensation of Paul’s lips on yours. Foreign and strange yet you can’t help but numbly accept it.

Once he frees your lips, he rests his forehead against yours.

“Come into my arms, my love,” he says.

You don’t resist as he pulls you into his embrace, nudging you onto the bed. Soft strands of Paul’s brown mane brush against your cheek as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your spice-coated scent.

His arms circle your waist. Your back melds against his chest, the warmth of your bodies mingling through the thin layers of your clothes.

“You smell so good,” he mutters. Your scarf shifts when he rubs his face against it. “Don’t ever leave me.”

When you don’t reply, his tone gets firmer. “Promise it.”

The words roll off your tongue easily.

“I won’t ever leave you, Paul.”

Tension leaks out of his tightly coiled muscles.

“Good,” he says, drifting off to sleep quickly with you nestled in his snug embrace.

You fall asleep too, no thoughts in your head, Paul’s soft snores lulling you into peaceful slumber.

You awake with a start, the stark unfamiliarity of the palatial chambers you find yourself in causing your pulse to soar. Your eyes dart about the room. Recognition hits you. These are the Emperor’s apartments.

Your eyes grow wide. You’re not supposed to be here. Panic sets in.

“W-What am I doing here?”

Paul’s quiet voice flows across your back.

“Calm down.”

“No. I shouldn’t be here…”

You start crawling off the bed but Paul’s fingers around your wrist impede your departure.

He holds your face, vibrant blue eyes locking with yours. You find yourself incapable of looking away, ensnared by his unflinching focus.

“I said, Calm down.”

The alarms ringing inside your head fall quiet. You lean into Paul’s touch. What were you doing? What were you thinking? Every thought you attempt to grasp at evaporates in the heat of Muad’Dib’s stare.

“There. Much better,” he coos, satisfaction hovering on his handsome face. His voice sinks into a sensual whisper. “Why don’t you kneel for me?”

You do as he instructs. Then all fades to black as quicksands of confusion engulf your thoughts.

When you return to yourself, you aren’t on the bed anymore, but on your knees on the carpeted floor.

Paul is looming over you, grunting, his throat bobbing. One of his hands is curled around your nape while the other is under your jaw.

You note the saltiness coating your tongue, the drool on your chin, the soreness in the back of your throat.

You choke on his length, air wavering inside your lungs.

Paul’s cock is in your mouth.

The sick, awful realization tumbles over you like a bag of stones.

Muffled moans leave you as you lift pleading eyes towards him.

You place your hands on his thighs, shoving with all your strength.

Paul doesn’t let you move. He cradles your face and thrusts inside your mouth until his balls are pressed into your chin.

Clouds of lust obscure his gaze as it falls upon you.

He caresses your face, dragging his cock out before pushing it inside your mouth again. Gurgled sounds leave your throat. Tears skip down your cheeks and you wonder when you’ve started crying.

Fremen do not cry. Ever. Even for the dead. It is a rare, sacred act.

Paul wipes them off your face with his thumbs.

“You love me. It is what lovers do,” he says matter-of-factly.

Your body relaxes.

Right. Of course. You love him. It is what lovers do.

You hollow your cheeks and suck him off. He unleashes a throaty sigh of delight as you pleasure him with your mouth.

When his seed drips down your tongue, he coaxes you not to waste a single drop. You swallow all of it, showing no resistance when he nudges a stray drop between your wet lips.

Several days in a row, you awake in the emperor’s chambers. At first, you experience great confusion. However, Paul’s soothing words always quell your rising panic. It becomes all you know. The Emperor’s mesmerizing voice. His large, soft bed. His ceaseless, ravenous touch.

Sweaty, tangled limbs melting in lewd harmony.

You stop questioning it. Even the strange lapses of time when you are in one room and mysteriously wind up in another. It isn’t rare for you to wake up with the Emperor’s head bobbing between your thighs, greedily lapping at your folds, or with your hips grinding into his as he impales you on his cock.

It is where you belong. And you believe him when he says that, mumbling loving promises into your ear in the dead of night.

“If we do not strike fast and hard, they will not accept your rule,” Stilgar says.

“They worship a false god. We are doing them a favor,” another man sitting at the table interjects.

A shaky exhale flows from your tongue. You look around, dismay filling you when you realize you’re in Paul’s war room amidst a council meeting. Your head throbs. How did you get here?

You rise from your chair. Bemused gazes land on you.

Princess Irulan snickers from her seat.

“Husband, your concubine is acting strange,” she sneers.

Concubine? You step away from the table.

You blink several times as you stumble outside. You grip your temples, your forehead scrunching. That cannot be right. Is it?

You are no one’s concubine.

You are…

Adrenaline pumps through your blood as your head buzzes.

The answer will not come, your mind keeping it under firm lock and key.

Frustration mounts within you. You blindly waddle around.

You end up in a room that bears vague familiarity. You lean against a basin full of water. Water…just lying around. That seems strange.

Your eyes land on a mirror on the opposite wall. The reflection in the glass has your heart rate spiking. Who is this?

You bolt to your feet, the water in the basin splashing around your feet.

Your tremulous fingers rise to your face, horror filling you when the woman in the mirror mimicks your exact motions.

Your gaze travels across the wide, open space. Quick breaths rush from your throat. The Emperor’s room. Why did you think it was your room?

You stagger backwards. You gasp as you bump into a solid form.

You whirl, eyes widening.

“Paul.”

He gauges you, slight concern etched in his blue eyes. Relief fills you as you soak in his boyish, slender features, much more familiar than those of the stranger in the mirror.

You know Paul. Muad’Dib. Paul is familiar, safe. You trust him. He will tell you who you are.

“Yes, my love?”

“Paul, who am I?”

A displeased frown settles on his brow. He approaches you and grabs your face. His expression hardens.

“You are mine. Nothing else matters.”

“But Paul-”

Your protests are stifled by the feverish press of his lips on yours. A fog surrounds your thoughts as his kiss grows more passionate, his hands sweeping over your curves. You place your hand on his chest, pushing feebly.

“Forget it. Forget it all, beloved,” he mumbles against your lips. You sag against him. You drown in Paul’s blue eyes, time stretching beyond eternity.

When you gain a semblance of awareness, your naked form is writhing above Paul’s. Your palms are spread over his lithe muscles, your hips moving as he slams his cock into your cunt repetitively. Paul bites his lip, his gaze glued to the sight of his length disappearing between your wet folds.

When did you get on the bed? When did you shed your clothes?

Every inquiry melts in the heat swirling across your damp flesh.

Your lashes flutter as you unleash a broken whimper, Paul’s hard length touching you in places that send electricity rippling through your spine.

You tighten around him and he purrs.

“Remember nothing but my name,” he rasps, clutching your hips possessively. He impales you on his length, thrusting faster. You choke on your breath, his quickening pace driving you wild.

You brace yourself on his chest and lose yourself in the pleasure, your breath hitching each time he pounds into you.

The filthy sounds of your coupling fill the room, bouncing off the stone walls. Paul’s deep, animalistic moans. Your soft, desperate whimpers. The blunt, wet sounds your cunt makes as he buries himself inside you. The bed rattling and squeaking under your writhing forms.

“Paul, Paul…” you pant as you bounce on his cock. An intensity ignites his eyes as his name falls from your tongue like a prayer. You toss your head back, voice dying in your throat as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your toes flex. You tremble, your body jolting as your slick walls flutter around his length. A husky moan leaves him. He twitches inside you. His back lifts from the sheets, his body tensing as he hits his peak too. Slick warmth spills from his tip, glazing your walls.

An errant sliver of panic lurks inside your brain. Your eyes bulge as you glance down at where your body and Paul’s are conjoined. Rapid breaths burst from your chest.

Seeming to sense your distress, he shoves your hips back down when you try to squirm away.

His authoritative voice booms across the room, unnatural, multiplied. Everywhere at once.

“Do not move, beloved. Let me fill you up. Make you mine in every way.”

Your breaths settle down. Your worries disappear. You look into Paul’s loving gaze. A smile unfans on his lips as you ride him with abandon again.

“What are you doing?”

You pivot at the abrupt sound of Paul’s voice. You pause above the bag you’re packing. You peer at him, mulling over an appropriate answer to his question. You do not find one. You only know that you stirred awake that morning, feeling strange, sore…Lost. The urge to collect your meager belongings and leave the Arrakeen Keep seared inside you since then. A hollow, distant voice rings inside your head.

Return to Sietch Tabr.

“I have to go. Something…Something isn’t feeling right.”

The muscles of Paul’s jaw flare, his tone as ice as he states, “You want to leave me.”

Discarding your bag, you rush to him. You take his hands in yours.

“No. I made you a promise. I just need time to think…I can’t think anymore, Paul.”

It’s true. Every day feels like trudging through a Coriolis storm, your thoughts scattering as dust in the wind the minute they form.

Everything that was solid before is now sand slipping through your fingers.

Paul’s gaze corrals yours.

“You don’t need to,” he says, gripping your face. His tone dips to a soft lilt that penetrates your senses. “Who are you?”

You search his eyes. A breeze blows away every single doubt you had.

The answer to every inquiry you had is right there. In Paul’s fond stare.

The persistent little voice in your head, that pesky plea begging to be heard suddenly falls quiet. The truth echoes in your head, Paul’s powerful voice filling your mind.

You are right where you belong.

“I’m yours,” you utter with certainty.

His face softens. “That is correct, my love,” he says, stroking your cheek.

“Now, why don’t you settle down, beloved?” You let him escort you to the bed, coaxing you to take a seat on the sheets. “Agitating yourself as such isn’t good for you.”

He sinks to the floor and drops a gentle kiss over your round belly.

“And it’s not good for the baby either.”

#paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #dune fanfiction #dune #dark!paul atreides #dark!paul atreides x reader #dune part two #paul atreides x you #paul atreides imagine #dune part 2

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redskull199987 · 11 months ago

Text

Concubine

Paul Atreides x fem!reader Part II

Word Count:1.6k

Warnings:!SPOILERS! for Dune II, canon typical violence

Summary:"This princess will carry his name and yet, she will be less than a Concubine. She will never spend a moment of tenderness with the man she is tied to. But we who are called concubines - in the eyes of history we will be wives…"

Part I / Masterlist

She was pretty. You had to give her that. Your gaze closely followed each and every move that the Princess made. You knew that her head must have been chaotic at the moment, going through every possible scenario, how this situation could end. And you also knew that her first and last goal of this day would be to save her father’s life and secure the continuous reign of her bloodline.

But from the way she looked at you, you knew that Princess Irulan was aware of the fact that if she did marry Paul, she’d never get to share a bed with him. Would never bear his heirs or even receive an ounce of warmth from him.

She knew that even though you'd officially be Paul’s concubine, his loyalty would lie with you. And only you.

Chani’s hand on your shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts. It reminded you that before it ever came to that, Paul would have to beat the Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha.

You took a deep breath in, as you glanced over to the Harkonnen. You had heard stories of him back on Caladan. Stories of his thirst for blood and his enjoyment of Pain. His reputation preceded him, but his appearance clearly matched it. He looked almost eerily as he stepped forward, proposing to fight for the Emperor and defined his honor.

A small frown appeared on your face, when Paul accepted the proposal. Too fast for your liking. You heard Chani sigh next to you. You looked over to the Fremen. The Woman who had become like a sister to you, who had taught you the ways of her people. You remembered it as clear as day, when she had first told you, that you’d earned her trust.

It was the day you had joined the Fedaykin among their ranks, The day you became one of them.

You were high on adrenaline. You didn’t know how else you could’ve explained it. You didn’t know how else you would’ve pulled it off. Your eyes wandered over the many Corpses of the Harkonnen Warriors, that were supposed to protect their Harvester. Almost like in slow motion, you raised your hand, your fingertips wandering over the specks of blood that littered your face. You knew it wasn’t your own blood, but the thrill that the situation itself brought you, was indescribable.

You needed a few moments to fully return to the present. The Spice in the Air was clouding your senses, making it feel like you witnessed everything merely from the eyes of a spectator and not as one of the Fremen who ever so fiercely attacked a Spice Harvester of the Harkonnen.

The Explosion pulled you out of your Trance.

You spun around, spotting Chani and Paul. They were fighting off a few Harkonnen warriors. But you quickly realized that Paul wouldn’t be able to defeat them all alone. You’ve never felt slower than in this moment, when you started running towards him. It felt like the Sand was pulling you down, seeking to swallow you whole.

But you didn’t let it. A scream left your lips, as you dashed forward, deeply burying your Crysknife in the back of a Harkonnen Warrior that was about to attack Chani from behind. You sank to the ground together with his Corpse, as Chani spun around, her eyes widening as she realized what had happened.

Only seconds passed, as you looked up to her, Anger and Determination all, that was on your mind. Chani gave you a small nod before Paul finally reached the two of you again.

“Re-load!”, Chani yelled at him and he quickly did as told, pulling out another round of Ammo, reloading Chanis Missile Launcher.

You glanced past the Mainstay that the three of you were hiding behind. When you spotted the Ornithopter in the air, you gulped harshly.

“The shields only lower when he’s shooting!”, You shouted towards your companions. When you locked eyes with Paul, you immediately realized that the two of you had the same Plan.“We’ll distract him!”, Paul explained to Chani who gave him a court nod as she understood.

“Wait for our sign!”, You yelled, as you got ready to sprint over to the next Mainstay to distract the Sniper.

“Ready?”, Paul asked as he got into position next to you.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”, You grinned, despite the Seriousness of the Situation.

You took in one last deep breath, knowing very well that it could be your last one, before you felt Paul tap your shoulder, signaling you to start running.

Almost immediately, your instincts kicked in and it felt like you were a spectator again, watching how your feet carried you through the hot sand. You saw and heard the shots that rang in the Air as you sprinted through the Desert.

“Shit!”, You heard Paul yell next to you and you quickly realized what he meant, when you saw the Mainstay in front of you start to move further away from you.

“Run!!”, You shouted, as if it wasn’t obvious.

You knew that from that moment and the point where you reached your destination, only seconds passed but it felt like hours as you ran through the sand. Mere moments before you reached the safety of the Mainstay, you heard Paul yell at Chani to launch the Missile.

You were knocked over by the Force of the Explosion as the Ornithopter burst apart into the air, signaling to the Fremen that were hidden on the cliffs nearby that they could launch their attack on the Harvester, destroying it entirely.

“Hurry!”, Paul yelled, as he pulled you to your feet and back over to Chani who was already making her way towards the nearby Dune. You had to disappear in the Desert again, before more Harkonnen would come and attack you.

That night you sat with the other Fedaykin, drank and laughed with them as Paul and you joined their ranks as respectable Warriors of the Desert. You received your Fremen name and you realized that your Heart, your soul and your entire being was with them now. You would fight for them as long as you breathed, would even go to death for them.

And Chani seemed to realize it too.

The young woman had always acted cold towards you, but when you saved her life on that day, risking your own for hers, she realized just how much of a loyal friend and fighter lay in you. From that day on, You knew that you could always count on each other.

“He will survive…He will win.”, Chani whispered into your ear and squeezed your shoulder as you watched how Paul and Feyd-Rautha got ready for their Fight. As the Gaze of the Na-Baron crossed yours, you sucked in a deep breath. What you saw in those eyes scared you.

It was a thirst for Blood and Power that you had only seen in Paul as he drank the Water of life.

You quickly looked over to Paul, giving him a firm nod, signaling him that you were on his side. His eyes told you more than words ever could. It was a silent promise. A promise to come back to you, to survive this battle and to put his plan into action.

It was a Promise that he would become the Emperor.

“I must not fear”, You mumbled to yourself, as the fight began,”Fear is the Mindkiller.”

Your eyes followed every little move of Paul as well as Feyd-Rautha. The two men were equal fighters, both born to be the One. But only one of them would win, only one of them would come out alive.

“Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.”, You whispered, as you watched Paul get knocked over the head, Blood trickling down his temple,”I will face my fear.”

“Is she your pet?”, Feyd-Rautha mocked as he gave Paul a moment to collect himself. The Na-Baron grinned wickedly and pointed his knife at you. You paid him no mind, as your eyes only rested on Paul, silently telling him not to let himself be provoked.

“I will permit it to pass over me and through me”, you mouthed as Paul got up and the Fight commenced anew.

Your breath hitched as Feyd-Rautha swiftly disarmed Paul, ramming the Crsyknife into his ribs. A guttural groan left Paul's lips as the two fighters stood close to each other. Wheezing breaths were the only noise to be heard in the room.

“And when it has gone past I will turn to the inner eye and see it’s Path”, You whispered desperately, the Mantra being the only thing that kept you from panicking.

All your senses were focused on the two men in front of you as you witnessed how Paul silently pulled the Crysknife out of his Body, getting ready to attack. Feyd-Rautha barely had time to react as the holy knife of Shai-Hulud pierced his armor and therefore ended his life by the hand of the new Emperor.

“Where the Fear has gone there will be nothing”, You mouthed as Paul got to his feet again. His steps seemed to carry the weight of the Universe as he walked over to the old Emperor, demanding him to kneel in front of his new Master.

Reluctantly the old man did as told, as he accepted his defeat. Princess Irulans gaze slowly wandered to you, as her father fell to his knees.

“Only I will remain.”

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 4 months ago

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I don't know anything about Batman comics but I am very curious, who is this Jean Paul Valley fellow?

(I could google it but I feel like your answer is going to be a lot more enlightening)

okay so imagine you're a grad student just trying to get your degree in computer science. your mom is dead, you've never been close to your dad. you've made the best of it. one night your dad shows up on your doorstep in weird armor, terribly injured, and he dies in your arms telling you that you have to take up his mantle now. what the fuck does that mean? what mantle? oh, okay, turns out he was a warrior for a secret religious order. okay, it turns out all the men in your family have been for generations. alrighty, this is accomplished via childhood programming that creates a secondary warrior personality that lives in your head and comes out when you need to hurt people. maybe even kill them. you don't really want to do that but it also seems like you don't have a choice. sometimes you just kill people with a sword now, I guess. but Batman's here, Batman is going to help. he promised. he takes you under his wing, says he'll teach you how to manage this. you can't stop fighting but you can fight for good, maybe. Batman will show you how. except things are going wrong in the city, and Batman is running himself ragged trying to fix it. he's busy, too busy for you. Robin is trying to help you as best he can, but Robin's just a boy. and things are getting worse, Batman is fading. but you're also getting worse, there are voices in your head. and then Batman nearly dies. he certainly won't be able to walk again, not any time soon. so you're Batman now, I guess. you have barely even know how to be yourself anymore and now you also have to be Batman, and the man who was Batman has disappeared. out of the country to solve another mystery, left the city to you. you don't know what to do. you don't know what to do and people are dying and this city is hell on earth and why? why did he let it get this bad? what the fuck was the old Batman doing? you have to be a better Batman. you have to do whatever it takes to fix this place. maybe the old Batman wasn't hitting hard enough. maybe his enemies should have been more scared of him. maybe he shouldn't have let them get away in the first place. you're so alone. Robin is gone. Batman is gone. the only advice is coming from the voices in your head. you help people, sometimes, but you also feel increasingly disconnected from them. you're not really yourself anymore, are you? you're the voices in your head, your programming. you're Batman. you barely sleep and when you do it's on the floor of a cave, in your armor. and you keep this up until the old Batman comes back. he's walking again; it's a long story. and he wants his name back. he brought the other sidekicks and all three of them hate you, and when they come for you they don't stop until you're stripped of the armor, the mantle, and the name. they kick you out of the cave. you spend months living on the streets of this awful city you couldn't fix, hallucinating and trying to figure out who you are. they leave you like this until Batman comes to find you. you still work for him. he has a job for you. he doesn't like you, isn't even sure he trusts you, but he has a job that needs doing and you're a warm body. you're grateful. what else do you have?

that's Jean Paul Valley.

#jean paul valley

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slowlyoats · 4 months ago

Text

The Lost Boys: What they like in other people

Marko

- creativity

- Absolutely HATES the idea of blending in

- Hence why his jacket is so different from his brother’s jackets

- He’s drawn to creative people who outwardly express their creativity with their appearance

- This is why he loves the board walk!! There are TONS of people who dress originally and In an unapologetic way

- I think one of his biggest struggles with being a vampire is that he can’t be outside during the day, and it’s not because he misses the sun or the warmth, it’s because thats the time of day people are usually outside creating wall murals, doing chalk art, painting landscapes.

- He misses interacting with those artists

- So, if he is at the board walk and just so happens to see someone set up with an easel, painting the lights of carnival rides, you BET that boy is going to introduce himself

- And find out everything there is to know about you

- And try to convince you to stay in Santa Carla forever with him

Paul

- Music taste

- Paul is a music snob

- He will totally judge a person based off the music they listen to, and will, on many occasions, choose his victims based off their poor music taste

- His favorite place on the Boardwalk is the record store

- It’s run by this older lady who shares Paul’s love for music

- He goes in at least once a week to say hi, and discuss music with her

- I feel like her name is Gretchen, but Paul insists on calling her Gretch

- He usually sits behind the cash register and talks to her in between customers

- And if it’s one of those nights where Paul can’t sit still, Gretchen makes him unload boxes in the back room and set up any new displays

- She LOVES to play matchmaker with Paul

- Because she is the only record store around, she knows the music taste of most people who live in Santa Carla

- So she try’s to find Paul a date, by matching up his music taste with a regular’s

- This usually doesn’t work out, but she LOVES to try

- *whispers* “look at her Paul! Isn’t she lovely?? And she listens to Motley Crüe!”

- He went on one date that Gretchen set him up on, and it didn’t end too well….so he swore he would never do it again.

- Let’s just say that the girl smelled a little TOO good and he couldn’t stop himself from having a taste

- He cares too much about Gretchen’s companionship to ruin it with him loosing control and eating all her customers

Dwayne

- kindness

- The boys don’t get shown a lot of kindness because…you know…they kill people and stuff

- But that doesn’t mean they don’t have feelings!!

- Dwayne might be the silent, stern type, BUT if anyone shows him the tiniest bit of kindness this man will become your devoted follower

- He may be a vampire, but he remembers what it was like to be human, and how easy it is to be selfish and just plain mean

- He also remembers that kindness is a choice

- And the kindest people tend to be the strongest

- Being kind to him is one thing, he might keep an eye out for you on the boardwalk in case you find yourself in trouble, or change your tire if you get a flat.

- But

- If your kind to Laddie?

- Maybe he got lost and you helped him find his way back to the boys? Or bought him a ice cream? Or maybe even helped him reach an arcade game he so desperately wanted to play?

- Oh boy.

- You just found your self a guardian watch dog angel. Trust me when I saw NO ONE will lay a hand on you or look at you the wrong way EVER and live to tell the tale

- And if you just so happen to be his type?

- Well, I hope you like Santa Carla because you won’t be leaving

David

- courage

- He admires someone who can stand there ground

- Who can get in the face of a surfer nazi and tell them where they can stick it

- Who won’t put up with Paul and Marko teasing them, and will dish it right back to them!

- Who won’t be intimidated and has no problem telling him and the boys “no” with a smile on their face

- Someone who doesn’t give a flying you-know-what about what anyone has to say to them about hanging around him and his boys

- Their confident in their decisions, even the bad ones

- When offered a drink from that sparkly bottle they give him a wink, and take a huge swig!

- And PROMPTLY spit it out all over their prized poster, because like HELL will you be tricked into doing anything you don’t want to do

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ghostgirl101 · 4 months ago

Text

Being Loved By Paul Atreides

A/N: Quick lil blurb headcanon thingy while I work on my next set of hcs between a Feyd and Paul love triangle 🙃

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that you're never alone, not inside your mind or out of it. The Water of Life gave him the pooling knowledge to break into others' and he almost always knows how you're feeling, without even having to say a word. Even if you're quiet about how you feel and are usually good at pushing things down and hiding them away, Paul always manages to bring the to light, and you'll know you're caught out when you look up from where you are to immediately catch his blue-in-blue gaze locked onto yours with a knowing look. Sometimes the knowing look turns a bit cocky when what you're thinking about happens to be him.

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that you're an anchor to his humanity and burden as the Messiah, having a profound and unbreakable bond tied with you that transcends any ordinary relationship. The love he feels for you is a force in itself, scarily powerful and true and darkly pure, that no other force in the Known Universe could sever it.

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that you're the only one to see him at his smallest and most vulnerable, in between council meetings and fights in his name during the Holy War breaking out over the worlds, the guilt that racks him to his core and makes him want to hide away from it all. The nights that are spent clinging to you so tightly that your skin goes pale by his hard grip, and there's nothing more to feel but the overwhelming heat of his body pressed up as close as it can against your own, his dark hair tickling your neck and face while he burrows into your neck to smell nothing but the soft signature scent of you, and of home.

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that every touch, gesture, and moment of closeness feels like something more, like every action to pull you in closer isn't just physical, but a mental strain too, to merge your thoughts and sense of self with his own, so much so that it's almost suffocating.

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that you're never protected more than you are when you're under his fierce, observant watch and devotion. He insists that he doesn't need his guards or watchmen as he can look after himself, with heightened senses and strength enough to know what's coming his way in the present moments and the hidden intentions of those around him, and so they're sent to watch over you instead with keen eyes and strict instruction. If Paul himself is not standing watch over you by your side, you can feel his eyes on you, as if it's omnipresent, and god forbid anyone to let their gaze linger on you with a look he doesn't like, because that's a sure way to be sent down as a sacrifice to the sandworms.

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that the only advice or insight he's given that he would truly and wholly think over and consider would have to come from you and be believed by you without the influence of others, because his trust lies in you, and its enough to make him pause for a moment in thought as he pulls apart your words and all their meaning to see if they can fit in and around his plans.

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that he would never give a moment of a second's thought to any other man or woman but you, because he holds strong to the conviction that you're his soulmate and the leading light of his destiny. If you die, he dies inside with the last of his strength, and he'll embrace the desert with open arms to offer him up to the great Shai Hulud Himself.

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Next Week's Fanfic: Headcanons for a love triangle between you, Feyd-Rautha and Paul Atreides 😎😎 ⊹˚₊‧───────────────────────────────────────────‧₊˚⊹

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added to this for my future Dune fanfics): @milaeth @ennycutie @nckcn @void21 @leighta @williamtt33 @deathsimp @tatumrileyslover @beebumbo @the-dark-dreamer25 @lilepad @skboo @keicdcat @1950schick @reggiesmoon @velosrantipole @yoonessa @anonymjuni @saturnhas82moons @xlxnq @frickyea-guacamole19 @meowmeeps @chalklate

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DUNE MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆ MAIN MASTERLIST

#paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x you #paul atreides imagine #paul atreides oneshot #paul atreides fanfic #dune x reader #dune x you #dune x y/n #dune 2 x reader #dune fanfiction #dune fic #dune imagine #dune headcanons

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madamevirgo · 11 months ago

Note

okay so i have an idea for a lady jessica x reader fic, where the reader is one of the fremen and supports and protects jessica, around the time when paul and jessica join the fremen. She is still pretty vulnerable and even a bit scared but only shows that side of herself with the reader.

obviously you dont have to write that :)

Mine to Give

Pairing: Lady Jessica x (f!)reader

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: none? Terrible writing, softness.

A/N: I took this and ran with it ijbol. I’m a little rusty, so I apologize, but I hope you’re happy with this. Thank you for the request!!

You looked up from the stillsuit that you’d been working on repairing for the last hour at the sound of rushed footsteps moving about.

Although it was not uncommon to hear commotion about the Sietch, these sounds were different. The footsteps were rushed and had a certain urgency to them that compelled you to follow them. As you got closer to the communal space, you heard voices laced with equal parts anger and anguish.

“What’s going on?” You asked a little boy who almost crashed into you as he was pushed back by the large crowd that had been formed.

“Stilgar is back with the others, and they’ve brought two outsiders. One of them killed Jamis” he replied hastily, before worming his way into the crowd once more - like a little desert mouse.

You frowned as you watched him go, trying to make sense of what he’d just said. Jamis was dead, killed by the strangers. Why would Stilgar - a man you knew to be wise and calculating - risk endangering the community by bringing the foreigners here? He wouldn’t. He had a motive and a reason, you would find out.

—————

“I’ve been gone for weeks, and you don’t even make an effort to greet me upon our arrival.” You turned around to see Chani leaning against the entrance to your room.

“I didn’t hear you enter the yali.” You said as you approached her with a smile and claimed her in a hug.

“What had distracted you enough for your acute senses to have been so diminished.” She asks, and you follow her as she sits at the edge of your bed.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts. “These outsiders that you and Stilgar have brought, what do you make of them?”

She looks ahead, her eyes seeming to lose focus as she thinks of an answer. “They’re the last remaining survivors of the Atreides family, our latest oppressors - slaughtered in the night by the Harkonnens. The woman is a Bene Gesserit and Stilgar believes the boy to be the Mahdi, the Lisan al Gaib. You know how I feel about these prophecies that have been written to control us.” You put a hand on her clenched fist to placate her.

“Calm yourself, my sister.” You start quietly. “I know you are suspicious by nature, but you must not let your anger cloud your vision. Trust that Stilgar knows what he is doing. Give them a chance.”

“If I am too cynical, then you are too trusting. I fear that your heart will get you in trouble.” She says with a slight smile, making you bump her shoulder with yours. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust strangers. And this prophecy - the Lisan al Gaib is supposed to be Fremen.” She said as her eyes once again regained their previous harshness.

“I’m an outsider,” You replied pensively. “Yet, Stilgar saved me from the desert and raised me like his daughter. Feeding, clothing and cuddling me. You have done much the same, claiming me as your sister and teaching me to fight like a Fedaykin amongst other things. So tell me Chani, by your logic - am I Fremen or an outsider.” You held her gaze awaiting her answer. She looked down with a frown, before answering.

“You are Fremen. You learned the way of our people.” she says with certitude.

You put a hand on her cheek “I am both. He too shall learn, much like I did. I know you and Stilgar will advise him - just like you did me.” You finished gently.

“You truly live up to your name.” She said with a smile, before getting up and extending a hand to you. “Now come, the others are waiting for us and I haven’t had a proper meal in three weeks.

———

Dinner had been a very interesting affair. You got the chance to get a better look at the duo, more the boy than his mother - as her back had been turned to you. That only served to increase your curiosity and you found yourself oddly disappointed when Stilgar came to collect her.

If you thought Chani was against them, this was nothing compared to the way Shishakli felt. The badmouthing, paired with the sight of the boy who was desperately trying to ignore the stares and the taunting comments had effectively cut your appetite and forced you to excuse yourself to go on a walk.

You’d been wandering for a while, not paying attention to where you had ventured when you bumped into someone coming from the hallway to your left. It was only your quick Fedaykin reflexes that allowed you to grab her before she could fall.

“I’m so sorry.” You said and as you settled on the face of the woman standing in front of you, you recognized her to be the woman outsider. A slight movement of her hand caused your attention to deflect to her growing belly. “Shai-Hulud strike me! Are you okay? I should have been more mindful of where I was going. Please sit for a moment.” You gently guided her to a resting corner that was often used for prayer.

“It’s okay, no harm no foul.” Replied the woman as you both sat down. “I am afraid I got lost. I tried to find my way after meeting with Stilgar, but these hallways all look similar to me.” She said quietly.

You were finally able to get a good look at her and two things stood out to you. She was insanely beautiful and the sadness that covered her features looked like it was swallowing her whole.

“I’d be more than happy to help you find your way back to your son.” You said as you stood up and she followed suit gratefully.

“Thank you, Stilgar left pretty quickly and I didn’t get the chance to ask for directions.” She explained as you began to guide her towards her intended destination.

“He means well, but he is a bit scatterbrained at times.” You responded with a smile.

“I’m beginning to see that. I would’ve asked someone, but most people here look at me a certain way.” You looked at her from the corner of your eyes and saw a glimpse of sadness in her eyes.

“You have to understand, that they’ve never met anyone like you and are weary of outsiders.” You explained as neutral as possible, not letting your need to protect your people get in the way.

“I do understand,” she responded, probably sensing that she had hit a nerve. She was a Bene Gesserit after all. “It’s only normal under the circumstances, but still, it stings a bit.” She finished quietly. “You are different.” You inclined your head, signalling you were listening, but keeping your eyes forward. “I sense no distrust in you. You have only treated me with kindness so far. The only other person who has done that has been Stilgar.” She finished

“That’s one of the qualities that makes my father such a great leader. As for me, I believe that everyone should be given trust and respect until proven otherwise,” you said proudly.

“You’re Stilgar’s daughter?” She asked with veiled surprise.

“Adoptive, yes. My name is Y/n, but my people call me Amela,” you explain.

“Y/n.” She whispers as if testing the way your name rolled off her tongue (rather well). “I’m Jessica. Amela means ‘One who hopes’, does it not? That’s a beautiful name.” You got a weird feeling in your stomach at her compliment.

The rest of the way was completed in silence as you both were lost in your thoughts. Her more than you, as you couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering to her. After a few turns, you arrived at the communal area where you had been eating.

“Mother!” You looked to see the other outsider approaching you at a hurried pace. “Where have you been? I was worried sick.” He said as he finally reached the both of you.

“I got lost after meeting Stilgar. Y/n here was kind enough to guide me back.” She said gesturing to you, and the suspicious look he had been giving you wavered.

“Thank you for that. I’m Paul.” He said, extending his hand. You accepted the foreign greeting before letting go.

As you stepped away, you noticed your father in the distance and it suddenly occurred to you that you had missed him.

“I should go greet Stilgar.” You say as you step away. Before you could leave completely you spared Jessica one last glance. “Welcome to the Sietch”.

————

The next time you saw her, she was the Reverend Mother. You hadn’t been one of those who’d waited outside the cave where she met with the previous Reverend Mother, the thought of her potentially not surviving the ordeal made a cold sweat travel down your back.

You were sitting in a corner in the communal area, quietly working on a defective fremkit, when you felt a figure looming over you.

“Glad to see you survived drinking worm piss.” You said in a teasing tone.

“Barely.” She said as she took the greeting as an invitation to claim the seat next to you. “Are you some kind of engineer?” She asked as she watched you work on fixing the fremkit.

“I’m a Fedaykin by trade. Fixing things is just a pastime.” You explained.

“How come you’re not outside with the others?”

“They’re more than capable of dealing with the spice harvesters. Besides, from what I hear, your son seems to be more than enough extra help.” You closed the fremkit and handed it to her. “A gift” You explained.

“I doubt I’ll need it, but thank you,” she says thankfully.

Her response reminded you of a conversation that you had with your father. “I intended to go find you after I finished here actually. You said as you fully focused your attention on her. “I’ve been assigned as your personal guard, by Stilgar.” you watched her for any discomfort as you uttered the words.

“That is a bit useless. I’m sure you’ve heard of the weirding way. Much more effective than any fighting taught across the universe.” she said with disdain.

“I’ll try not to take offence to that. Fedaykin’s fighting skills should not be discarded,” you said slightly colder than you intended. “I don’t see how me protecting you is any different from the treatment you had as a Duke’s bound concubine. But if it’s my presence that makes you feel unsettled, I can promise to not let myself be seen.” she went to argue, but the look on your face must have dissuaded her.

“Fine, but I still think this is a waste of your time.” she relented and you let a satisfied smile appear on your face.

—-------------

For weeks, you followed the Reverend Mother around. Watching as she continued her Bene Gesserit propaganda amongst your people. You should have been angry at her brainwashing your loved ones, but you couldn’t help but focus on her more appealing qualities.

Her beauty for one. The way she walked, sometimes seductively, sometimes like a fearless woman. You also grew protective of her, admonishing anyone who dared to utter negative words about her. And when the day had been long and the weight of her responsibilities and precognition seemed to crush her, you felt the urge to take her in your arms and tell her that you would take care of it all. But you couldn’t; you could only watch and make sure she was safe physically.

You didn’t talk much, just like you had promised; and she did a good job at acting like you didn’t exist unless necessary. A hard task since you had been given a room in her yali. It had been a month since you’d been appointed as her guard when your relationship took a more personal turn.

It had been a particularly long day. News from the Fedaykins had come of another successful mission, but many had been lost. Too many. Every time we received news that Paul was still alive, she cradled her belly and let out a breath. She had spent most of the day mumbling to herself, or rather her daughter. Something she seemed to do more when she was anxious. You wish she’d talk to you instead.

You were in deep sleep when a scream had you immediately jumping to your feet and running to her room, your Crysknife drawn, ready to defend your lady. You arrived and quickly surveyed the room for any imminent danger, when you saw none - you approached the bed where the Reverend Mother was trashing about.

“Reverend Mother!” still she didn’t wake up as you avoided getting hit in the face by her wild arms. “My lady! Jessica!” finally, her eyes snapped open and she looked around in panic, before meeting your worried eyes.

Once she did, she burst into tears. “It’s too much.” you didn’t think twice before gathering her in your arms. You understood what she meant by that. You’ve seen the toll her new position had taken on her in the past month.

Your heart broke for her and you felt more useless than ever. You cursed the Bene Gesserit for making her this way, you cursed the Harkonnens for having disrupted her life, you cursed Paul - for whom she was doing all this, you cursed Stilgar for having entrusted her into this position, but above all - you cursed yourself for not being able to do something about it. As she cried, so did you. You who had been taught not to give your water away - you let your tears fall freely for Jessica, as you let yourself echo her pain and sorrow.

“I’m sorry. Shh, I’m so sorry. I’m here.” you repeated these words like a litany as you held her.

Eventually, her sobs turned to sniffles, and to hiccups before she fell asleep. You don’t know how long you stayed watching over her like a vigil. Sometimes she would whimper in her sleep and you’d pat her back softly until she was calm again. Soon, sleep also claimed you, and you fell asleep where you sat on the floor with your hand in hers, and your back against the nightstand.

When you woke in the morning, it was in a very soft bed. The pillows smelled of something fresh. You’d heard about a place in the universe that was full of greenery and water. They called it a forest. You think this is what that must have smelled like. This is the type of comfort that it must have brought. You didn’t want to move, but when you remembered the event of the night, you couldn’t get up fast enough as you ran around to find the older woman.

Your heart was beating in your chest, chastising yourself for having been sleeping so deeply.

“You’re awake,” you turned around to see her coming out of the bathroom and let out a sigh of relief.

“You weren’t there when I woke up, I thought-” You shook your head to get rid of the bad thoughts.

“I didn’t want to wake you up after last night. Besides, it wouldn’t do any good for my bodyguard to be falling asleep on her feet.” she teased slightly, you kept your face neutral, still trying to get your heart to calm down.

“I’m sorry”

“Thank you”

You both spoke at the same time and you looked at her in confusion.

“Thank you for what?”

“Why are you sorry?”

This time you allowed myself a smile to accompany hers.

“You first, my lady.” You said gracefully

“I am saying thank you for the comfort you provided last night,” she hesitated, before adding “For this past month, really.” she finished almost bashfully. A look you hadn’t seen on her face before.

“I haven’t done anything worth acknowledging. Not last night, and not these past weeks. All I’ve done is follow you around.” You shrug.

She crossed the room in three long strides before taking your hands in hers softly.

“I know it’s been hard at times to watch me work. You don’t agree with how I’ve been spreading my doctrines - but I’ve never caught any judgment, hatred or disgust from you. You’ve been more of a companion for me.” she looked to the side and frowned, before capturing your eyes once again. “The path I’m on can be lonely, I’ve been thrown into a new culture and position with no time to adapt, collect my bearings or mourn. I’m scared, terrified actually; but it’s been a little easier with you watching my back.” she finished.

“I’ll always have your back,” You mumbled earnestly

“I know.” she taps her head slightly with a finger, to show that she can see it, and you laugh. Of course, she can. “This is only the beginning of something beautiful for you and I.” the way she looks at you causes heat to rush to your cheeks and to look away from her mesmerizing eyes.

“What does that mean?” You ask with a nervous laugh.

“All in due time. But please, don’t give your water away for me again,” she says softly, her hand on your cheek as if catching the tears that had fallen last night.

A shiver runs down your back. “It’s mine to give.”

———

Part 2

A/N: Like, share and subscribe to my chanel teehee 🥰

#madamevirgowrites #dune part two #dune #lady jessica #lady jessica x reader #rebecca ferguson #rebecca ferguson x reader

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soelstress · 2 months ago

Text

Ambivalent Research

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x female!reader

Summary: Working with Ransom was never easy, so why did you think a joint research trip would be any different?

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI , nsfw , sex/smut, p in v sex , unprotected sex , oral sex (f receiving) , vaginal fingering , some language

A/N 1 - This is my first joint submission for @steviebbboi 200 Followers Celebration Writing Challenge and @yenzys-lucky-charm & @sweater-daddiesdumbdork Horny Hoes Hootenanny. Sorry it's last minute!

A/N 2 - Prompts - - Enemies to lovers - "Slower, baby, I'm not going anywhere" - "We're both adults, we can share a bed for one night" - "Are you fucking kidding me?" - Withholding - getting scared during a horror movie

As a bonus, I asked Yenzy for two spins on the trick-or-treat wheel of potential doom... and for this one I chose the pillow fight!

A/N 3 - Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work - GIF taken from google but page was listed for @writemarvelousthings

A/N 4 - Please let me know if I've missed a warning, knowing me it's more than likely. Hope you all enjoy ☺️

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The annoyed shout caused silence to fall as you stepped into the rustic lobby of the lodge. Optimistically, you had hoped that this trip would go smoothly… but of course nothing ever went to plan when he was involved, you thought with a disappointed sigh. “You’re fucking with me, right?” As you walked towards the check-in desk, you saw a staff member trying to apologize profusely to the person causing the ruckus. Any other person would probably see an exquisitely dressed, well groomed handsome man. All you saw was your boss Harlan Thrombey’s grandson, your fellow researcher and the biggest pain in your ass.

Don’t-call-me-Hugh ‘Ransom’ Drysdale. When Harlan had said that Ransom would be working with you to research for Harlan’s next few mystery novels, you were filled with dread. From information you’d gleaned, Ransom was considered to be the black sheep of the family, a trust fund prick as they so lovingly called him. When asked, Harlan admitted that Ransom never had a job, only having worked as his research assistant for a summer. It was agreed between you and Harlan that you would have seniority, something you were grateful for as Ransom had been a reluctant participant to start, doing minimal work except for when he took every opportunity to cause trouble for you. He was an arrogant, self important conceited jerk who you wanted to kill… until things reached a peak one day. When Ransom had complained once again about working, you had lost all patience and your filter. “Fine! If you’re happy to keep sponging off your grandfather’s legacy and just remain a Drysdale in the self imposed so-called shadow of your parents rather than make something of yourself by your own efforts, then stop wasting my time and go!” From that day, Ransom had committed to contributing as much as possible. His work ethic might have improved… but he still annoyed you whenever the chance arose.

You subtly jabbed his side upon reaching the desk which caused his glare to focus on you. “Oops! Excuse me, Mr Drysdale. What seems to be the problem?” You offered your name to the staff member, the name you saw from his tag was Paul, who quickly found yours and Ransom’s booking were for the same company.

Another member of staff appeared behind Paul, radiating authority and a zero tolerance for nonsense attitude. Now this was someone who commanded respect, unlike the entitled idiot next to you whose gaze would have you murdered a million times over if looks could kill. “As my colleague Paul already explained to Mr Drysdale, unfortunately the pipes in his suite have burst, rendering the room unusable. Due to other bookings and events being reserved prior to yours, there are no other rooms available for tonight. We have called other hotels in the area, and found another suite at - “

”At a hotel 45 minutes away” Ransom interrupted. “Look, I need to be here for work. I don’t think you realize how important this could be for you, so why don’t you - “

”Share my suite” Three gazes focused on you though your attention was on the one that could potentially - and almost certainly would - make things more difficult. “We can share a room for a night”. Part of your brain screamed in horror and rebellion at the thought of sharing a room with him, but the other part scrambled to minimize the damage the arrogant asshole could cause with his big mouth and even bigger ego. Ransom opened his mouth to argue but when you jabbed him again and raised a brow, he knew to shut up. Or rather his version of shutting up which was to grumble and whine as he stomped over to the elevators. Rolling your eyes, you offered a small smile to the two staff members. “I’m so sorry about him, he shouldn't have spoken to you that way”.

Paul smiled at you gratefully, the weight of the world seemed to have dropped from his shoulders. “We have been trained to deal with such situations ma’am”.

You shook your head. “Just because a customer is paying for a service doesn’t give them the right to speak to you like that. Again, I’m very sorry and will be mentioning how professionally you handled this to my boss”.

”Thank you ma’am. Of course the suite will be refunded and due to the inconvenience, dinner is complimentary”. You thanked them profusely and headed to the elevator where Ransom fidgeted impatiently.

“So when should I get that refund?” Ransom huffed, pushing the call button.

You eyed him incredulously, somehow still amazed by his ego. ”You realise that Harlan will receive the refund, seeing as he paid?” Before you both stepped into the elevator, you pulled out your phone to call your boss. Upon hearing his greeting, a smile graced your lips. “Hello Harlan”

”Ah good afternoon dear girl”. You could hear the formality being replaced with fondness, a rare occurrence from what you had observed of Harlan. “I trust you and my grandson arrived safely at the lodge?”

“Yes, though there is a slight change in plans”. Briefly, you informed him about the room being refunded and Ransom sharing a room with you instead of having to leave the area.

“Oh dear. I appreciate you being so accommodating, especially as I had wanted you both to specifically research the lodge and surrounding neighborhood for me. I must apologize in advance for my grandsons behaviour, as I know he seems to enjoy unnecessarily needling you”

”As long as I won’t be held accountable for any retaliation for the duration of this trip, short of bodily harm or murder”. You grinned as Harlan chuckled and Ransom gave you the side eye. You bid Harlan a good evening, ending the call.

”Retaliation huh? Now why would my dear Grandfather agree to that?” Ransom leaned back against the elevator wall. Your irritation flared at his casual arrogance.

“Because he knows you ‘enjoy unnecessarily needling’ me Drysdale, and yes those were his exact words”. Inhaling deeply, you stood straight and held your ground. “Being a researcher is challenging enough, but to work for one as renowned as Harlan Thrombey is the chance of a lifetime and I’d be a fool to let anything ruin the opportunity. Which is what I told him when I applied for the role. After my interview and a few months of working for him, he said that he appreciated my honesty and work ethic, but also recognised I have no patience for drama or bullshit - a good deal of which is found within his own family, much to his disappointment”. Every word you spoke was true, Harlan had said all of this to you. Though you had overheard the specifics about his family while he was speaking to his caregiver Marta but you had met all of them in the few years you worked for Harlan.

A dark brown arched. “Oh? And just what drama are you referring to?” With a ding, the elevator doors opened to your floor and Ransom hesitated before gesturing for you to move first. Finding your door a few strides down the corridor, you stopped and pulled the key card from your pocket. Opening the door, you waved for Ransom to precede you.

”Take your pick, from your parents to your Uncle Walt or Aunt Joni. They all have their own drama. Though I wonder about how Harlan would react to hearing how much damage his eldest grandson could have caused by opening his big mouth without thinking. Newsflash Drysdale - any dramas linked to Harlan Thrombey or Blood Like Wine would be damaging. Those are the two names paying your income… and the only names worth mentioning. I’ve been doing this job for some time, so I’ll make it easy for you - despite what you, your mother or father may say no one has ever heard the name Drysdale with recognition outside of your social circle”.

Ransom's face darkened at the mention of his immediate family. “Hey, don’t compare me to those two. I asked Grandfather to show me the ropes for this business, so I could decide if it was something I wanted to do myself. But if by some small chance Grandfather leaves the company to me and not that idiot Walt, I’ve no intention to say that I’ve done my own work from the ground up. I’d say it’s Grandfathers and I’m just continuing his legacy”. A chuckle from you had him frowning. “What?”

”I think hell just froze over because I agree with you”. And you did. It irritated you that Linda, Ransom’s mother and Harlan’s eldest child, claimed to have built her business from the ground up by herself when in actuality she had used Harlan's money. And her husband wasn’t much better, you saw Richard’s eyes wander when you visited Harlan at his estate. All of the family repulsed you, trying to constantly outdo one another whilst trying to impress Harlan. But hearing Ransom say that he would honour and continue Harlan’s legacy rather than try to claim it for his own softened you slightly.

Ransom had walked into the main area with a small seating area against the wall but a large king size bed dominated the space, facing beautiful views outside the windows. “You gotta be shitting me” he groaned, almost as if in pain.

When you saw the size of the couch, you knew that neither of you would be sleeping on it. It was soft and squashy looking, but more for sitting on than sleeping. Which really left you with one option. “For Gods’ sake. We’re both adults, we can share a bed for one night”. He glanced at you with an indecipherable look before sighing and stalking off to the bathroom and closing the door. Unsure whether to check on him after the look in his deep blue eyes, you hesitated. Oh yes, along with your annoyance of him came the reality that he really was a handsome bastard. Not that you’d ever tell him that. Dark hair swept off an angular face with soft pink lips and eyes to drown in, he really had won the genetic lottery. But his appearance aside, you had shared a few soft moments with him after the family gatherings he attended. Sometimes you would gently rub his back or pat his shoulder to ease the tension and resentment radiating off him. There were moments that you wanted to verbally comfort or reassure him, but after the brief physical contact he would pull away and annoy you before walking away. Part of you knew it was a defence mechanism, lashing out because it was all he knew. This time you decided to give him space.

After eating dinner and making a plan to explore the area the next day, you changed into your pajamas - a matching set of cotton shorts and tank top - and sat to watch a horror movie that you discovered had used the lodge you were currently staying at as a filming location. Harlan knew you were thorough in your research, so encouraged you to investigate any adaptations made to avoid plagiarism. You hated horror movies, much preferring a thriller or a mystery. But this was your job. As you sat watching, you hugged your pillow to your chest. Your heart began to pound watching the lead female edge into the dark room -

and jumped as something grabbed you. Reacting on instinct, you swung out with your pillow and walloped whatever it was that had grabbed you. Surprised and amused blue eyes met yours. “Seriously? You hit me… with a pillow?”

Embarrassment was chased away by irritation. “Seriously” you mimicked his voice with a scowl. “You decided to scare me while watching a horror movie? Real mature, Drysdale”.

“Pot, meet kettle” he huffed, grabbing his pillow and whacking you back.

It might have been immature, childish, just downright idiotic… but this man existed just to make your life a living hell. And you’d had reassurances from Harlan that any retribution this weekend would not be held accountable, So you decided the hell with it. And whacked him repeatedly with your pillow. Ransom was caught off guard for a moment before retaliating, making every effort to hit you with his pillow. At one point, you had stolen Ransom's pillow and struggled to keep hold of yours, Ransom in close proximity. Both your eyes locked as you panted, straining to win the pillow.

The next moment the pillow was thrown aside and you were under Ransom, grabbing desperately at his hair, his sweater - anything to bring him closer. Your mouths clashed in a heated battle for dominance, filled with teeth and tongue. One arm propped his torso up to keep his weight off you while the other slid around your waist and pulled you against him.

Once again your brain screamed at you - why the hell were you kissing Ransom Drysdale? More importantly, why the hell were you enjoying it so much? But your heart pounded loudly, drowning out your screaming thoughts and focusing on Ransom - how good his lips felt against yours, how smooth his hands felt gliding over your flesh, how he ground against you as desperately as you were to him. “Too many goddamn clothes” he hissed, yanking your top over your head and immediately latched his lips onto a nipple, fingers tweaking the other. Your back arched, pushing yourself closer to him. Desperate to feel his skin on yours you tugged at his sweater before he pulled back with a curse, almost ripping it off and tossing it aside before plunging his mouth to yours. His denim clad crotch ground against you, causing you to moan at the feel of his erection. Ransom pulled your shorts off, exposing you to him. His finger drifted up your thighs and across your folds before slowly sinking into your heat. He groaned against your lips, pushing in a few times before adding a second finger and curling them against your inner wall.

His fingers worked a steady rhythm inside you as his palm rubbed against your clit. You moaned when a wave of pressure began to slowly build, rising to crest through you… and you whimpered when his hand stopped moving altogether. Desperate for friction you tried to grind your hips against his hand but he pulled it away, raising his head to look at his wet fingers. “Hmm.. I think you could be a little wetter, dear girl” he crooned, lightly mocking Harlan's usual endearment. When a snarl started to leave your throat, his fingers returned to the previous rhythm and any fight left you. His lips glided from one breast to the other, his tongue teasing and tasting your skin in time with his digits. The wave of pleasure built again, threatening to consume you and just as you tasted the first hint of release Ransom stopped again. You heard a soft chuckle which only fueled your frustration at being denied.

”Drysdale. So help me, if you don’t make me cum right now-” a soft brush over your clit briefly interrupted your threat. “I know a half a dozen ways to end you without weapons or toxins” your growl turned into a breathless whimper when he blew softly onto your pulsing heat. Looking down, you could see him watching you inches from where you needed him.

”Is one of those ways smothering me with this wet cunt?” Those blue eyes sparkled with wicked sensuality. “Then end me right now, baby”. Suddenly he licked firmly into your dripping folds, groaning deeply as the first drop hit his tongue which had you squirming from the vibrations. “Goddamn… you taste so fine, kitten”. He lapped away, humming as you began to grind against his face. The tension from your two prior denials built with a vengeance and in your desire, you gripped his hair and pulled him closer. His nose brushed against your clit and you cried out which he answered with a pleased hum as he firmly suckled on your clit.

”Fuck!” Pleasure coursed from head to toe, your mind solely focused on prolonging the feeling as long as possible. Once the tremors had stopped, you laid for a moment to gather your thoughts. Glancing to the side you saw Ransom facing you, laying on his back with his hands behind his head and that goddamn smug-sonofabitch-smirk etched on his face, lips glistening from your juices.

Suddenly filled with an urge to wipe the smirk off his face you moved to pull his jeans and boxers down, watching as his cock was freed. God, no wonder he walked around with that attitude. He was big, and for a moment you wondered how the hell it was meant to fit in you but you didn’t want to say it aloud and give him yet another ego boost. Scrambling to straddle him, you squirmed as his flesh rubbed between your folds. “Woah… slower, baby, I’m not going anywhere” Ransom chuckled which turned into a gasp when you squeezed him with your hands. Guiding his tip, you both moaned when it rubbed over your clit. Biting your lip you began to sink onto him. “Shit” he hissed, hands moving to grip your hips and control your descent. Moaning from the stretch you wriggled on him, unable to sit comfortably on his thighs. Cursing, he gently pushed you to lean back and you slid flush against him, the movement causing his cock to rub deeply within you. At your whimper, his eyes flashed to you. “You ok?”

Grinding against him, a small keen echoed through the room. “Feels so good… fuck… you’re so big”.

Hearing your voice crack on the last word, Ransom began to roll his hips watching as you lost yourself to pleasure. Head tipped back, chest heaving and hands grasping for something. Ransom bucked up into you and then groaned when your hands dug into his flesh. ”Oh… my kitten has claws” he whispered, relishing the sight of the red marks. Feeling you clench around him Ransom continued to buck into you, his hands gripping your hips. ”Fuck yes… you want my cum kitten? Gonna cream this sweet little pussy”. You moaned loudly at his words, his hands guiding you through deep strokes as your walls sucked at his throbbing cock insistently. Your body began to tremble with that oh-so-familiar heat and you clenched tightly around Ransom, suddenly terrified he was going to edge you again. “Not gonna stop, baby” he murmured, gasping as your body shook with pleasure. “That’s it kitten, squeeze me. I’m gonna cum so hard for you”. Suddenly he tugged you down to him for a deep kiss, groaning against your lips as he came deep within you.

Panting, you rested against Ransom’s chest and heard the gentle lub-dub of his heart. His fingers brushed cautiously against your cheek, cupping your face when you pushed further into his touch. He tensed and you worried that he was going to revert to his pattern of lashing out. You couldn’t handle that, not after this. You cared about him, somehow falling for him along the way despite the antagonism between you. “Please”. He looked down at you, worry lining his face. “Please don’t pull away, Ransom”.

Shaking his head, Ransom held you close. “I’m sorry baby, for being an asshole and making things difficult for you. Honestly, I just wanted you to notice me. But I’ve wanted more since you basically told me to grow some balls and make something of myself. You’re the first person apart from Grandfather to see something in me”. Ransom sighed heavily. “I’m a mess, kitten. Fuck, you’re more than familiar with the shit show that is my so-called family”. Your heart ached at the bitterness lacing his voice and moved your hand to rest on his chest. “I don’t know how to do this” he gestured between you before capturing your hand with his and pressing his lips to your palm. “But I want to try. For you. With you. I’m probably going to upset you and definitely annoy you… but I want to try and make you happy”.

“Like our research”. He cocked his head at your answer. “Research means that you don’t know, but are willing to find out”. At your soft giggle, his blue eyes sparkled. “Together. We’ll do it together”.

#hornyhoeshootenanny #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x you #chris evans characters

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genderkoolaid · 2 years ago

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sorry im gonna aut out for a second going off these tags

this book is so fucking aggravating because the author's (cis man. ofc.) reasoning for why the P.U.F isn't trans is because they didn't seem to struggle with their gender before becoming the P.U.F (we have no way of knowing this btw. not only do we have limited information on their personal life before transitioning, but whose to say they ever showed signs of being trans openly? whose to say their near-death experience didn't awaken something inside them?) and since their rebirth was due to "spiritual factors" instead "some long-term struggle over [their] identity" (because it would have to be a struggle, right?), we should only view them in the context of women's history and not trans* history.

which makes me want to rend flesh with my teeth!!!! sir you CANNOT separate spirituality from identity like that. were the priestesses of inanna not trans* despite taking on women's clothing, names, language, because they viewed their gender as a spiritual event? its so ridiculous to take someone who literally changed their entire identity because of this spiritual rebirth, and then call them by their birth name and she/her pronouns and be like "well since SHE didn't struggle with HER gender before, then SHE isn't trans!"

and its not like this is some "ohh we don't know what they would have wanted," the P.U.F made it very clear they were not Jemima, they would not tolerate being seen as her, they dressed androgynously on purpose, their followers considered them a neutral spirit. They identified as the Public Universal Friend, it doesn't matter whether you think they really were a spirit from Heaven. They did everything possible to express "I am not who I used to be and my gender is not the same as it was," how is this not trans??????? Because they weren't the fucking textbook transsexual that is the only True Trans allowed to exist???????? god forbid a trans* person's gender be more than some hellish struggle. god forbid other parts of our identity affect our gender and be inseparable. and god forbid a trans* person assigned female do literally anything because if they aren't a cis woman somehow their defiance of the patriarchy is no longer radical. paul moyer meet me in the fucking parking lot i'm gonna break your nose what is this shit. can't trust a cis to do a trans' job.

#m.#''from a perspective that privileges biological sex over the more flexible construct of gender'' privilege my foot up your ass #he literally admits they would have disagreed with being labeled a woman pioneer but fuck them i guess!!!!!!

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thebiggerbear · 1 month ago

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FANFICTION FRIDAYS

This week I moved the # from 56 to 16.

Here are my picks for Jan 3rd 2025, please go give them a read:

Unspoken Words by @winchesterwild78 & @cheekygirl2309 (Jensen Ackles x Reader, RPF)

More Than You Could Ever Know by @godmadeaterribleerror - A No Love Lost Christmas Special! Takes place about five months after the end of No Love Lost, sort of an epilogue to the main story. (Soldier Boy x Supe Female!Reader, The Boys)

When What We Had Was Everything by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior - When Y/N really needs him, Jensen steps up, leaving all their past in the past. Can Y/N possibly do the same? (Jensen Ackles x Reader, RPF)

Come Find Me by @lightdancingwords - You are a new arrival to Big Sky, Montana, and found gainful employment with the local insurance department next door to the sheriff’s department. A whole new life with your past haunting you, while Beau is still dealing with the entanglements with his ex-wife. Can either of you succeed in overcoming your ghosts? (Beau Arlen x Female!Reader, Big Sky)

Forever After All by @jobean12-blog - You and Javi have been working together for a few months and you can't deny that you like him...everything about him. And you know you're not imagining the subtle flirting and lingering glances but when you have an assignment that puts you two closer than you 've ever been you find out what it all really means. (Javier Pena x Female!Reader, Narcos)

Family by @lila-lou - This Christmas is your first with Emily, Beau’s teenage daughter. Between her shy smiles and sharp wit, she’s learning to trust you, and you’re creating a home together. (Beau Arlen x Reader, Big Sky)

New Year’s Bingo Card 2024: Bang by @bullet-prooflove (Eddie Diaz x Reader, 911)

Desire, I'm Hungry by @yourfavoritewitchbitch - You and Steve happen upon a strange flower and suddenly find yourselves separated from your friends in the Upside Down. An unrelenting desire overtakes the both of you, taking your friendship past the point of no return. (Steve Harrington x Reader, Stranger Things)

Bruised Fruit by @lostloveletters - Gloria falls like overripe fruit from a wilting tree branch, and Michael Corleone intends to devour her amidst the rot and decay that's long since taken root in his family, intent on dooming her with him for a chance at another heir. (Michael Corleone x OFC, The Godfather Series)

Are You Humming Radio Company? by @justwhisperingfantasies (Jensen Ackles x Reader, RPF)

Your Fault by @lamentationsofalonelypotato - Reader is pregnant and suffering from morning sickness, only to be comforted by Daryl. (Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader, The Walking Dead)

All I Want by @katehuntington - Sam and Dean come across an object that could be the solution to Michael. The Pearl of Baozhu grants the beholder’s deepest desire. Once Dean focuses on his wish, the archangel remains caged in his mind however. Instead his former girlfriend Y/N shows up, who was killed in 2010 in Detroit, by no other than the Devil himself. (Dean Winchester x Reader, Supernatural)

Power In the Blood by @venus-haze - There’s power in the blood. Father Paul knows this. Soon, you will, too. (Father Paul Hill x Nun!Reader, Midnight Mass)

Change of Plans by @impala-dreamer - Sometimes, you gotta blow off your plans and blow your husband instead… (Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Reader, RPF)

The Broken Circle by @jollyhunter - “Winchester” - That’s the name you applied with at the police department, when you started a new life in Big Sky, Montana, 4 years ago. It’s your deceased husband’s name. Or rather, meant-to-be husband, since Dean died 2 weeks before he got to propose to you. Today you return from your one month time-out. But a lot has changed since you went to visit Sam; You’ve got a new sheriff. And he’s the same man you thought you’d never see again. (Beau!Dean x Hunter!Reader, Big Sky/Supernatural)

Good Girl by @storiesofsvu (Grace Muncy x Reader, Law & Order: SVU)

Looking for more? Please check out my fic rec lists and writers rec lists (1, 2, 3). I do have some things to update like the Beau stories list, Alec, Russell, Jensen, Soldier Boy, Dean, etc (and I promise I will when I hopefully get more time this month) and I do have some more coming out, like for Law & Order: SVU, LOTR, etc.

In the meantime, if you’d like to peruse even more stories that are on my reading lists, please check out @biggerbearsreads and @tbbrebloglibrary (which will eventually take place of the 1st - tbbrl will be more organized by tags, etc) or you can check out @biggerbearficrecs.

And please don’t forget when you come across any and all creative content on here to reblog:

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#fanfiction fridays #january 3rd 2025

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3thirtyonethirtyone1 · 1 month ago

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Writing Through Life

SMAU

Jonathan Bailey x writer!male reader

SUMMARY: In which, Jonathan fully commits to being in a relationship someone who makes stuff up for a living.

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‼️All the pics are not mine ( thank God for Pinterest).

❗ English is NOT my first language so be kind.

❗Every interaction is (sadly) purely fictional.

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iwriteonnapkinsat_restaurants ✓

♥ 1.005.437 🗨️104.513

👤: fred.hechinger, pedropascalispunk, josephquinn

iwriteonnapkinsat_restaurants A little throwback to my week spent on the set of 'Gladiator 2' . It was my first experience as a screenwriter on a project of such dimension and given the positive feedback I think I lived up to the expectations Ridley Scott set me when he proposed to me this idea.

The first two pictures are the reason why you shouldn't let your phone unsupervised at the same table with Pedro Pascal and Paul Mescal (Joseph and Fred are innocent in this instance), while the last picture represents Pedro's reaction when I told him he doesn't look "bonita" when he twirled in his gladiator costume.

comments

user1: we all say "thank you Y/N" in unison. the first picture does something to me ngl

user2: just saw the movie and my flabbers were gasted

josephquinn ✓: it's a shame you don't like such nice pictures...

→ iwriteonnapkinsat_restaurants ✓: it's a shame that I hadn't written a (more) brutal death for Geta

→ josephquinn ✓: for someone who's dating a british man, you seem quite hateful of the british people

→ iwriteonnapkinsat_restaurants ✓: The only brit piece I allow in my life is Jonathan

→ jbayleaf ✓: 🥰🥰🥰

luxpascal_ ✓: 💋

→ iwriteonnapkinsat_restaurants ✓: 💋💋

pascalispunk ✓: I don't need your confirmation to know I rocked my twirls

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iwriteonnapkinsat_restaurants ✓

♥ 139.790 🗨️15.687

iwriteonnapkinsat_restaurants Happy New Year, everyone!! In 2025 I'm planning to:

1. Finally put together the second book in the "Lawmakers" Trilogy whose name I'm going to keep to myself until further notice.

2. To finally finish my PhD thesis, even if its presentation is scheduled in 2026, on Jonny's birthday out of all days.

3. To make the last touches to my newest novel "You made me feel important when you bit me" , which will come out on the 22nd of August.

comments

user3: OMG!! we're in the same boat. i'm writing my thesis too

→ iwriteonnapkinsat_restaurants ✓: What's the topic??

→ user3: something about economic law

→ iwriteonnapkinsat_restaurants ✓: Good luck. I had my first masters in that. I hated every minute of it

→ user3: noooo 😭

user4: what's your topic?

→ iwriteonnapkinsat_restaurants ✓: The Evolution of Legal Thought in Ancient Rome: A Study of Law and Society Through Cicero’s Works

→ user5: sounds nice ☺️

→ iwriteonnapkinsat_restaurants ✓: Trust me, it doesn't.

kuangrf ✓: Have you read Katabasis yet?

→ iwriteonnapkinsat_restaurants ✓: I didn't, but Jonathan did.

→ jbayleaf ✓: It was amazing.

→ kuangrf ✓: Thank you, Jonathan. At least one of the Bailey-L/N men read it.

→ user4: Why are they arguing?

→ iwriteonnapkinsat_restaurants ✓: We're not. It's just the way our friendship works.

→ kuangrf : Are we friends? 😅

→ iwriteonnapkinsat_restaurants: Girl, I know where you live. (💚 you)

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iwriteonnapkinsat_restaurants ✓

♥ 154.321 🗨️5.686

👤: yourbff, misskathleenglasgow

iwriteonnapkinsat_restaurants I've been asked in my DMs (Yes, I read them) how I manage to jump from project to project without getting tired and/or burnt out. The truth is that I don't jump from project to project. I take a three month break after every demanding task I finish. In those three months I either read something lighter than what I usually read. I was recommended Girl in Pieces by Kathleen Glasgow by Y/BFF who told me I'd like it, but I was a little hesitant, especially because she reads romance and fantasy, which aren't my go-to genres.

If I get bored of reading books 16 year old Y/N would have read (non-derogatory) Y/BFF kindly and consensually drags me to her workshop and let's me watch her doing her magic, until I have to actually paint.

And if I don't feel like painting, I usually go on walks around London. No matter how strong my dislike of british culture is, I won't deny that London streets are very pretty.

I won't allow commenting on this post (besides Jonathan's) because I don't want to turn it into a warzone of (unrequested) opinions and recommendations.

comments

jbayleaf ✓: ❤️❤️❤️

liked by iwriteonnapkinsat_restaurants

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jbayleaf ✓ posted to stories

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The End

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#jonathan bailey #jonathan bailey fanfic #jonathan bailey x reader #jonathan bailey x male reader #new writers on tumblr #mlm #male reader #gay #x male reader #pedro pascal #paul mescal

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sillyteecup · 6 months ago

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The Wrong Way

Roman Reigns x black!o.c

Jey Uso x black!o.c

Chapter 4

Warnings:

18+

Strong language

Misogyny

Mention of sexual assault

Taglist: @wrestlingprincess80 @nbanenefrmdao @vebner37 @theninthwonder @tshepisho @lensilver2 @trentybenty @empressdede @queen-shadow22 @becauseimher @jstarr86 @jaded-human @c-sgolden

A.N: This took me too damn long😭😭in my defense though, school has been drowning me and I've barely had the time to get this done quick enough, but ke...what can be said? Anyway, here is chapter 4 of The Wrong Way. I hope you like it. Enjoy❤️

Lori did not believe in setting expectations for people. As it was, she tried to keep her social interactions with anyone she did not know or trust to a minimal. Being a certified introvert, she thought it to be unrealistic to hold people to any social standards before speaking to them. All expectations bred disappointments as life is fickle. Human beings weren't nearly as fickle as life, but they could never be the exception to the rule.

All of that to say, she didn't know what to expect from the Tribal Prince Jey, as the first they met he grinned at her as though she were a piece of meat, and then the second time he glared at her like a foe. Now they were seated opposite each other in the matte black suv that Paul assigned to them, and he still had a scowl on his face.

"Have we met perhaps?" Lori questioned, breaking the heavy silence.

Jey tilted his head, features dancing between confusion and wondering if she was just stupid. "What?" he asked.

"Well you've been glaring at me since I landed, so I couldn't help but wonder if we had crossed paths and I happened to have wronged you by chance," she said indignantly, her irritation at his current expression slowly boiling.

"You're one to talk, when you don't look like the happiest trooper yourself," Jey said evenly, trying to keep an iron grip on his temper.

"Well I'm sure you can agree that there is nothing to be happy about as it stands," Lori pointed out bitterly.

Jey's face scrunched up in mild annoyance. "Yet you asked to ride with me. And for what? So you can shit on me for not acting like everything is sunshine and rainbows?" Jey spat, getting angrier by the sexond.

"I asked for you to accompany me so that we could perhaps get to know each other and maybe figure out a way to make this work, not have you sit there pouting like some petulant child who was denied pudding after dinner!" Lori hissed, finally losing her temper.

She watched as Tribal Prince Jey sat in his seat, jaw clenching as he likely fought the urge to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze till she was dead. If only he knew that she had the same thoughts swimming around her mind.

"Says the immature little bitch that threw a tantrum in the middle of a meeting because things weren't going her way," Jey said venomously.

"Tribal Prince Jey I assure you that while I respect your royal standing, I cannot allow you to call me out of my name. I shall hold my tongue because I was raised to be a respectable young lady, but-" she had begun to rant before being cut off by a mirthles chuckle from Jey.

"Respectable? Girl you a whole ass ho that runs around serving up pussy to every man that smiles at you," he said maliciously.

At this, Lori's heart stopped. Her hands began to tremble as tears threatened to spill form her eyes. She mentally condemned her father to hell for the way he painted the loss of her virginity as her being promiscuous. She had always rued the day she trusted him to understand and empathize with her for what actually happened that night. But now, at this very moment, she hated him for this false portrait he had sold of her to this family. He threw her trauma like a piece of raw meat into a den of lions. One day, he would pay.

"You do not know anything about me," she said, tone lowering as she seethed in rage.

There was another one of those mirthles laughs. "I don't need to. And frankly, I don't want to. Just 'cause we engaged, don't mean I need to coddle your feelings or be your friend or whatever the fuck you were hoping to achieve here!"

Lori bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from speaking out of line. Just because he was an insulant fool, it did not mean she had to stoop this level down in hell to defend herself. She was a woman of honor and dignity; there was no place in her mind that was reserved for engaging in petty spats with an individual such as Tribal Prince Jey.

"If that is what you so wish, then very well," she said evenly, marking him as dead to her.

No one could say she did not try.

➽──────────────❥

Roman, Paul and Sami arrived at the family mansion, or "the palace" as they usually called it, to find Miss Loreal Moore with her maidens, and Jey waiting for them. While the maidens each took in the courtyard with awe, Jey and his fiancé seemed disgruntled.

"Damnit," Roman whispered to himself. Even after the clear warning he had given Jey, his cousin did not cooperate. Roman could not let his incompetence slide as it would set a bad example to his brothers and the rest of their cousins. But he would deal with that later.

"The lady looks unhappy, my Tribal Chief," Paul pointed out, only adding to the grating of Roman's nerves.

"Wiseman, please tell me something. Do I look blind maybe?" Roman questioned him sarcastically, to which he shook his head rapidly while stammering for an answer.

"N-no, never my-my Tribal Chief. Your eyesight is absolutely perfect. 20/20 vision I would say-" Paul rambled, attempting to calm Roman down before he angered him even further.

"Then what made you feel the need to point out something that I can so obviously fucking see?" Roman said through gritted teeth. Everybody just seemed keen on trying his patience today and he couldn't understand why.

"I apologize my tribal Chief. But, may I ask, are there any plans by chance that the Tribal Chief may have to sway the lady in our favor?" Paul genuinely asked. If there was one thing Roman appreciated about his Wiseman, it was his dedication to the family. However Roman couldn't let his real plans be known, as one of the pieces to his little chess game was in the front seat.

"The best we can do right now is be hospitable. Show her that she's in the right place," Roman said before flashing a smile at Sami through the rearview mirror. "Ain't that right Sami?" he asked Sami in what has half a joke and half a threat.

Sami caught onto this and his lips curled up nervously. "Yes my Tribal Chief, definitely," he laughed nervously, earning a pat on the shoulder from Roman.

"Wiseman, get my door," Roman commanded while keeping his eyes on Sami. The moment Paul left the car, Roman leaned in to whisper into Sami's ear. "You and Miss Loreal Moore friends, Sami?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"She's been very kind to me my Tribal Chief," was all Sami said.

"I hope you've been returning the energy. After all, she might need a new friend around here," Roman whispered, sounding genuinely concerned for the lady.

"Oh, yes definitely, my Tribal Chief. I have shown Miss Loreal Moore nothing but kindness and I would be happy to be her friend if she allowed it," Sami rambled nervously. Roman moved back and smiled.

"Good, good. You're a good man Sami," he said, ending the conversation right before Paul finished announcing his presence and opened his door.

Right as he stepped out, Ms Loreal Moore's sharp gaze shot into his direction. "Miss Loreal Moore, you seem displeased-" Roman began to say, being cut off by his cousin's fiancé.

"I wish to go home. Now," she stated, her voice trembling as she struggled to hold it together.

Roman was taken aback by her demand. Her tone sounded to him like she had likely been angered or triggered by something Jey said. His neutral gaze quickly shifted into questioning glare towards Jey, who only scowled and turned away.

"I'm sure that whatever that happened to to make you wanna do that can be fixed. I don't know you well but you seem like a smart, mature and level headed woman. So let's just-" Roman began to say to calm her down only it be interrupted again. Which was beginning to get on his nerves.

"That thing you just did; attempting to soothe my ego to gaslight me into agreeing with whatever" solution" you were going to come up with? I hate it. It is an insult to my intelligence. And from what I can see, this family seems to be built on the foundation of insulting those they feel are lesser beings to them! I am by no means a fool! I know why that-" she took a breath to control herself mid-rant before continuing.

"I know why my father sold me to you people. I did not expect to be treated kindly or for this to be a fairytale of sorts, hell I did not even expect to be treated with integrity. But what I cannot take is being refferred to by obscene words, and then having my intelligence insulted less than 4 minutes later. If this is how it is to carry on going forward, then I would rather you put me on the next flight back to my home, so that I may live out the rest of my days in unmarried bliss," she finally finished before letting out a heavy exhale.

Roman clenched his jaw and nodded. He began to rethink every time he said Naomi was too stubborn for her own good. Compared to Miss Loreal Moore, Naomi was child's play. Even though she always gently kept them grounded, she had never outright called them out on their bullshit. Let alone on her first day on the island. As much as Roman appreciated this woman's strength, he also understood that she was going to be a nasty piece of work to mould into their image. Yet he found himself enticed by the challenge. Clearly he would have to break her and rebuild her in an image he saw fit. And one thing about Roman? He enjoyed playing God. But he would have to be smart about this. She had already seen through his first trick, which to be fair he hadn't even thought was one to begin with. He was just used to solving problems like that. Nevertheless, he was going to have to get far smarter than he ever had.

"I see. Wiseman, show them to their rooms. They've all had a pretty long day and are in no state to travel right now," he commanded, noticing the storm grow in Miss Loreal's eyes.

"Miss Loreal Moore, I shall speak with you tomorrow morning at 07:00 once you've had enough sleep," he added, hoping to quell her still rising temper.

Her eyes narrowed as she bit the inside of her cheek. It was as if she had realized that now that Roman had made his choice, there was no arguing. At least she held authority to a high regard to some extent.

➽──────────────❥

Skin illuminated by the sun rising, Lori took in the appearance of her room. The walls were a dull dull beige that contrasted poorly with the dark oak doors and large, arched windows. The curtains were a glaringly bright red, an irritating sight that drove Lori to open the curtains at the crack of dawn. They with the bedding sets and the velvet couch on the other end of the room. It was big, more spacious than the one back home. She hadn't bothered to check the size of the closet as she had no intentions staying long. The carpet and sheets were black, along with the blackwood vanity set. The whole room was dreadful.

And so was this family. Lori's mind had been flooded with predictions of how the Tribal Chief would try to coax her into staying. Having caught on to his tactic yesterday and with the understanding of the weight this marriage holds, she figured that Tribal Chief Roman would likely attempt slither his way into her mind to convince her that all of this was worth it in the end.

And maybe it was, but a few words dipped in caramel would not suffice in proving that to Lori. She glanced at the huge round clock on the wall next to the bathroom door, 05:30. Her maidens had insisted on making sure that they were at her side by five o'clock sharp, however Lori resisted. Insisting that she would much prefer if for the first time in a very long time, they rested. They deserved it. And her parents were not there to tell them otherwise.

After bathing and moisturising in complete solitude for the first time since she was born, she took the long-sleeved cotton sundress that. Minerva had picked out and ironed for her, and put it on. Lori then moved to sit by her vanity and frowned. She had never done her own hair before, and now with the bonnet covering her braided hair, the lack of experience had come back to bite her in the ass. From what she had observed in Willow doing her hair, her long, voluminous afro was no easy feat when it came to styling.

What if I just woke Willow up to help with my hair, then immediately after, she goes back to sleep? That would not be cruel would it?

Her pondering of her dilemma was interrupted by a knock on the door. Confused, Lori checked the time again, 06:30. Could the girls already be awake? She stood up from the stool and cautiously made her way to the door. The knock sounded again, right as her hand had touched the handle. Finally she opened, and on the other side was the last person she had expected to see.

"Sami? What are you going here so early?" she asked him. As nice as he was, and as much as she planned to utilise him if things went south, Lori was still guarded when faced with all the members of the Bloodline. After all, who was to say it wasn't an act?

He stook tall in her doorway with a boyish grin. He sported a black Nike t-shirt and sweats with sneakers to complete the ensemble. "Good morning Lori! Tribal Chief said I should swing by and check if you're ready," he explained cheerfully. His grin however faltered when he took note of the bonnet.

"What?" Lori said, noticing the change in expression. Sami grimaced in response and gestured for her to let him in. Hesitantly, Lori stepped to the side only for Sami to usher her back to the vanity. "Sami what is the meaning of this?" she demanded only for Sami to gently push her into the chair and smile at her through the mirror.

"You don't know how to do your hair do you?" he asked slyly, causing her eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

"How did you know?" she questioned, wondering what had given her ineptitude away.

"Educated guess," Sami shrugged as his hand hovered over her bonnet. "May I?" he asked, earning a nod from Lori which prompted him to remove it, revealing her hair. "Wow," Sami gasped as he felt the soft texture of her hair.

"What's wrong?" Lori asked in concern, not sure how to take Sam's reaction to her hair.

"Nothing, it's just-I've seen healthy, beautiful long hair before but this? God, your mom must love you," Sami said, still in awe of the sight before him.

Lori just wore a wry smile at the last comment. While she was sure that Sami meant no harm as he was unaware of her relationship with her family, he still struck a nerve. When speaking of her connection with her mother, Sami wasn't asking, but Lori had been for the longest time. And by the looks of it, she would never get an answer.

"Actually, Willow is the mastermind. Before that it was her mother. The two of them have been so kind to my hair in the way they have taken care of it. In fact, I would probably have cut it all off had it not been for them," Lori explained, notes of gratitude in the way she spoke. Willow and Mrs Graham had been taking care of her hair and keeping it healthy since she was born. They were the real heroes.

"Either way, they are hair goddesses," Sami chuckled as he began to braid Lori's hair.

That's when it dawned on her. "You know how to do hair?" she questioned, eyeing Sami suspiciously as his red locks were out and untamed.

"Yup, an old friend taught me," he replied, not seeing the way she looked at him.

"And where is she now?" Lori asked curiously as Sami kept unbraiding and gently detangling.

Sami glanced at her through the mirror, eyes gleaming with a hint of sorrow. "She-uh, got married," he said before clearing his throat. He was then quick to change the subject to how he barely saw the point in styling his anymore since the island's climate was never kind to it. Lori zoned out as he rambled on and on, watching as he carefully brushed and styled her hair into a simple low ponytail with a puff at the bottom, completing the look with sleek baby hairs.

A white man can do my hair better than me? I need to up my game.

Despite the huge favour he had done for her, Lori still couldn't help but be unconvinced. Apart from him, she had met two direct members of the Bloodline, and both of them have proven to be...unappealing for lack of better words. Why would she trust that Sami hadn't had the same ideals indoctrinated in him. After all, as much as he was "an outsider", he had still been there longer than her. And since he did not offer the family prospects of wealth as far as she understood, there had to be another, more sinister reason to keep him around. If only she had thought of this on the plane yesterday.

"Sami, why are you helping me?" Lori asked, her trust issues suddenly flaring up.

"Because you're cool, duh," he replied as if it were obvious.

"Cool?" Lori questioned, unsure what he implied with the term. Her father had always considered that kind of language to be juvenile and forbid it around the house, however Lori had heard it time and again at her old University and during the two years when Lord Byron had allowed her to go to a private high school to graduate instead of finishing with a home school education. Still though, she was not very familiar with the context of the word.

"Y'know, good, nice. Cool," he simply said. Although he was not clear, Lori understood just fine.

"Oh okay. Lovely." If Sami was acting, he sure was doing an amazing job at it. Either way, her oncoming talk with the Tribal Chief would determine whether or not it mattered.

➽──────────────❥

"The Tribal Chief requested that I escort you to his office."

Tribal Chief Roman's office was cold...fitting the stories she had been told of the man who inhabited it. Perhaps it was the intense air conditioning, or maybe it was the lack of a personal touch to it's decor. Either way, apart from the spread out red and black furniture pieces, it was rather dull. Lori doubted he cared to much about the aesthetics anyway.

She had been seated on the black couch situated next to the door, about 5 feet away from his desk where he sat, nose buried in his work. Her eyes followed the clock's hands as time slowly ticked by, foreshadowing her slow and agonising ego death, should she choose to stay here. It had been 3p minutes and the man hadn't said a thing aside from "Have a seat." Part of her felt like there was an angle he was playing at here. A psychological one that she couldn't quite point out. Perhaps he was asserting dominance by making her wait on his time. If that was the case, then the one he had hoped to present would not hold up too well.

Her eyes scanned the bookshelf to her left. The names on the spines of each book caught her by surprise. While some of the books were typical of what was seemingly his nature, such as The Art of War, the others were unbecoming of what she had noted about him so far. Romance novels.

The rest of the titles were in Samoan and Italian, two languages Lori had not an inkling of an idea about. Still though, the very idea that Roman likely not only spoke these languages, but also read them was somewhat attractive. An observation she mentally chastised herself from. The very reason she had let her sights roam around the office was to avoid settling her gaze on him. Lord knows how he would react to his cousin's fiancé staring at him.

Speaking of his cousins, before she slept, Lori had done everything in her power to cleanse her memory of her interaction with Jey yesterday. Better to pretend it never happened than to let it hold power over her. Her logic was faulty, but it worked. But that did not by any means imply that she would be thrilled about being in the same room as him. The last thing Lori wanted was to be executed for murdering her fiancé. Regardless of how satisfying it would be.

"I take it you slept well?" she suddenly heard Tribal Chief Roman say.

Keeping her gaze on the window behind him, she nodded. The room was ugly but the bed was comfortable. "Yes, my Tribal Chief."

"Good. As a future member of this family it is only fitting that the best is what you are offered," he said, causing her to scoff. His gaze narrowed at the action. "Why do you want to leave?" he asked her, tone completely neutral.

"I was quite clear about my feelings yesterday, my Tribal Chief. I do not appreciate being treated like a street urchin by your family," Lori responded coldly.

Tribal Chief Roman placed his forearms on his desk to lean forward. "What did he say to you?" he asked. His voice had dropped to a dangerously low octave that struck a feeling that Lori was not familiar with in her chest. It was a mix of two feelings really; fear that was all but expected, but more surprisingly, yet minimal, lust.

"Things I would rather not repeat," she said.

"Because you're afraid?" he questioned with an arched eyebrow.

"Because I am a lady who refuses to compromise herself by spewing anything unbecoming of me," she retorted with a scoff. Yes, Tribal Chief Roman himself was terrifying, but that was not a sentiment she held towards Jey.

He leaned back into his chair, firm gaze remaining on her. "Whatever it is that he said, does not reflect our views of you. He will be corrected-"

"You mean punished," she commented, cutting into his sentence. She noticed his jaw clench at her interuption and swore she choked on her breath.

"And I will make sure, that nobody else treats you like that again," he finished, patience waning with each word.

"Why go out of your way instead of allowing me to go home?" she questioned, knowing the answer but still wanting him to completely clear up his intentions.

"You said it yourself yesterday. You know why this engagement was arranged; political gain for my family in return of financial gain for yours," he explained with a shrug.

Lori slowly nodded, the sound of the clock ticking re-invading her ears. "Where is he?" she asked. She wasn't sure why she was curious, but she was.

"His house not too far from here. Sami neglected to tell you that you two will not be living together until after your wedding," he explained, causing Lori's eyebrows to shoot to the edge of her hairline.

"How come?"

"Tradition," he stated vaguely. "Some things I have no control over, although something tells me you don't mind," he said, subtly pointing out her already existing grievance with his cousin.

"Do you have control over how often we are to interact?" she asked half-jokingly.

"Don't push it," he responded in a tone similar to hers. "I would advise you not to worry too much about the personal aspects of your engagement. The moment you two are married, you can get your own place nearby and only have to interact during public appearances," he said, tone reverting back to serious.

She fought the urge to ask if that was his arrangement with his wife a she had not seen her yet. Unless of course the divorce rumor was true.

"Until then, I am to stay here with you and Sami?" she inquired.

"Are you comfortable with Sami's presence?" he asked. His omission of her comfort with his own presence did not slide past her though. But she would let it seem as if it had.

"Yes. He is good company," she acknowledged.

"Then he will stay here as well. Anything else?" he asked. An answer immediately came into mind.

"Yes, actually. Could one of your staff perhaps get an interior decorator on the phone?" she requested, taking him aback.

"I do not like how my room looks," she specified, putting him at ease.

"I'll have it arranged as soon as possible. Is that all?"

She nodded wordlessly.

"Good. I'm assuming Sami informed you about today's agenda if you stayed?" Lori shook her head 'no' in response as her features festered into a look of curiosity. Sami must have thought that there was no way in all seven variations of hell she was staying there. Never say never, they say. Tribal Chief Roman ran his hand down his face and sighed, attempting to quell his frustration at Sami omitting this information.

"Today is your welcoming ceremony. The day when you're being introduced to the entire family and our ancestors as Jey's future bride and as a future princess to the people," Roman explained.

Lori's stomach twisted into knots. If there was anything she hated nearly as much as being blindsided to marriage, it was large gatherings and parties. All of those eyes on her, perceiving her always sent her into a spiral. If the very people that conceived her saw her as inadequate, who was to say that these people who did not know her from a table spoon harboured similar sentiments. Not to mention the whispers of gossip that she found mind numbing. A fact that would be hypocritical if Lori herself was a gossip.

She preferred self-preserving journalist anyway.

Nevertheless, she had chosen to stay and become a part of this bloodline that many considered to be of high esteem. Lori had chosen to become Tribal Princess Loreal. No longer Miss Loreal Moore. She would finally be rid of the last tie to her wretched father. If anything, that just sweetens the deal. This ceremony was just the starting point, one she would overcome with poise and grace.

"Is there a specific dress code, my Tribal Chief?"

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lowtaperfeyd · 7 months ago

Note

HEAR ME OUT angst lady jessica x reader w this prompt

"I don't want to love her. I don't like what that means for me."

"What do you think it means?"

"It means I have something to lose again."

Dimming Stars

Lady Jessica x Soldier!Reader

author's note: I HEAR YOU ANON, LOUD AND CLEAR, also "hey... how y'all doing?"

warnings: mentions of blood, death, dark dune stuff

wc: 1174

There was a difference between Geidi Prime and Caladan. The former was a place where the smartest survived, not the largest. You had to always be on your toes in the safest places, be wary of anyone who holds a weapon, because you'll never know whether or not they will turn on you. Never trust a man when he says he can help you, or do you a favor. Because all of those things will lead to you being caught. And by the end, your skin feels like it's been rubbed through with sand to toughen it and your mind is guarded by rows and rows of soldiers, to the point where you become one.

Tension was in the air ever since the herald of change was on Caladan to ‘give’ Arrakis to the Atreides. No one could pinpoint what was going on. But, the ticking in (Y/N)’s ears came back. A tick that said, “leave, it is not safe here.” The ticking was a remnant of years of loss and uncertainty, it never left and only sometimes flattered. And it only grew stronger on Arrakis.

(Y/N) sat facing Duncan Idaho as he was polishing a blade. The practice gym they were in was a beige color, that was only dulled by the lack of sunlight streaming through the nonexistent windows.

“Do you think I could take down a part of that wall?” (Y/N) asked, “Add a window perhaps?”

Duncan let out a noise that could be best described as a scoff,

“Why? So we can all boil alive?” He retorted.

“Just to add more light. It would make the place look better, feel safer.”

Duncan looked over to them,

“It reminds me of that too.” There was no reason to say the name of that dreadful place. Because they both knew what that meant.

“But I don't see why not,” He added, “We could approach the Duke or Lady Jessica about it.”

Her name, Jessica, made butterflies strikethrough (Y/N)’s stomach. She was a presence that lingered in their mind. Her auburn hair and green eyes penetrated deep into (Y/N)’s mind. She was the woman who brought life and future to their mind. She was the one thing on their mind during the day. And she rested in their dreams and arms at night. She was the only person that (Y/N) couldn't think about losing.

No, they thought, it would be too much to bare.

“That’s an idea.” (Y/N), with a twitch of their lip going up, replied to him. “I’ll ask Her Grace later.”

Duncan smirked at their words. It was a secret not kept well about Lady Jessica and (Y/N). Everyone knew that there was something, but no one knew the details.

“Do you think something is going to happen here on Arrakis?” (Y/N) questioned as their smile fell.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Certainly feels that way.”

“I’m worried what will happen to the Arrakeen, the Duke, Paul,” their lip quivered just a little bit, “her.”

“If you're worried you can’t protect that, then you should really reconsider that.” He said trying to comfort them, “and besides love can make you stronger than you already are.”

“I don’t want to love her.” (Y/N) responded firmly, “I don’t like what it means for me.”

“What do you think it means?” he asked

“It means I have something to lose again.”

There was a shared silence and understanding between the two of them. Their friendship based on mutual loss of friends and loved ones. It was an indescribable feeling that you could only learn by that loss.

“Well,” he cut the silence as he began to stand up, “I have to go and find Paul before anything happens.”

“Good luck with the window!” Duncan said as he left that room. Leaving (Y/N) to stew in the dull and dark room with Jessica on their mind.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later, in the evening, Lady Jessica and (Y/N) were laying in bed, under the warm light of the glow globe. Their arms were tangled like a pit of snakes with (Y/N)’s hand pinned between Jessica’s face and the soft pillow it was resting on.

The golden hues added shape and dimension to Lady Jessica’s face. It blessed it with shadows that contoured her nose and cheekbones and with radiance that highlighted her eyes. It was a sight that seemed like no one was worthy enough to see, not even a god.

“You’re wonderful,” (Y/N) started as their thumb stroked the soft skin beneath Jessica’s eye, “and as mysterious as a sky full of stars.”

“You’ve always had a way with words.” Jessica whispered to them.

“Because you give me the ability to find them freely. You are the catalyst of my poetry as well as the bane of my ability to focus.”

They were both shrouded in sleep that they didn’t notice the bloodshed that was set upon the city. The fire that rained from the heavens couldn’t make them move. It wasn’t until the soldiers were brought inside that (Y/N) took notice and the ticking was even faster.

They shot up from bed, chest heaving, heart pounding, and grabbed the knives that was concealed in one of the bedside drawers. They rushed to the otherside of the bed to wake Jessica up.

“Jessica,” they hissed, “Jessica, wake up!”

Jessica’s eyes opened hazily, “what's going on?”

“I don’t know how but the Arrakeen has been invaded. We have to leave.”

(Y/N) grabbed her hand and helped her up from bed. Both of them barefoot and dressed in improper clothes for a time like this. They left the bedroom and began to silently go down the hall with one blade in each of (Y/N)’s hands. They could both hear the sound of gunfire, slashing, and the sounds of final breaths that echoed through the halls. They reached a hall that diverged into two paths. (Y/N) knew that they needed to begin fighting, they knew what choice had to be made.

“My lady,” (Y/N) started.

“No, please…” Jessica whimpered as she grabbed their hand.

“It is here that we must part.” they said as tears began to well in their eyes.

“You can’t go out there!” Jessica wailed, “I can’t lose you…”

(Y/N) unlaced their hands and opened Jessica’s hand before placing a blad either and folding her fingers over it.

“If your safety is promised by my sacrifice, no matter how small, I will lay my knife down and take whatever comes over me.” They whispered before placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

“Go down that hall and find a way out, find Paul, find safety, don’t worry about me.” They said as they began to move down the hall to fight the enemy so that Jessica could have more time.

They parted ways not knowing whether or not they'd see each other again, under the burning palm trees and dimming stars.

#dune x reader #dune #dune 2021 #lady jessica x reader #lady jessica #house atreides

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