#paul atreides fluff

[firelilyfox]

Crush

Dune : Paul Atreides x female reader

Warnings: None / just fluff

You have a crush on Paul & he might have the same feeling about you

This is my first fanfic on this platform & my first about Dune. Please forgive me for mistakes (English is not my first language)

comments/reblogs are appreciated :]

If you have any ideas what scenarios I could do next then let me know because this is fun!

——————————————————-

The sun was setting as you finally arrived. It was a long and hard day and you are longing for some comfort, but everyone of your friends was busy with drinking and making fun of the believers like Stilgar. Even your best friend Chani was nowhere to be found.

Only he was there. Paul Arteides.

The One. The Voice… or some bullshit like that. You weren’t one of the believers. In your eyes Paul is just a normal human being with a talent for big speeches.

You never really talked to him more than three words because the thought alone made you nervous. Since he joined the Fremen two months ago you had a little … crush on him. And obviously you weren’t really good at smalltalk. Especially when all of your people have eagle eyes on the boy you wanted to talk to.

But tonight he was alone. Nobody paid any attention to him as Paul was sitting in a shadowy corner by a small fireplace, sipping a drink. For a second you wanted to turn away and just going to bed like every other night, but something tells you to do the opposite.

„Can I join you?“ You asked bravely.

Paul looked up with a little smile on his face. „Please do. I’ve been waiting.“

You hesitate for a moment, frowning but you sit down right next to him. „What where you waiting for?“

He chuckled softly. „For someone like you to talk to me.“

„Someone like me?“ You asked confused and watching his smile getting even brighter. Paul has that kind of smile, that makes you want to smile too instantly. All you can hope for is that the flickering light of the fire conceal you’re blushing.

„Yeah. Someone who truly dislikes me.“

You smirked. „What makes you think that I dislike you? Oh, mighty Duke of Arrakis?“

A warm laughter escaped his lips and for the first time ever you really saw his face light up in enjoyment. „Oh please don’t say that. It sounds awful! I only said it because I was in the heat of the moment.“

„I liked it.“

His laughing froze for a moment and he looked surprised. „You liked it? Are you having a stroke or something?“

„No!“ You laughed. „I really liked it. Sure it was a litte … dramatic but in the end you have a talent to bring people together and give them hope. That’s pretty impressing.“

He shrugged his shoulders. „Nah, I’m just good at telling people what they want to hear I guess.“ He hesitated. „Chani told me that you weren’t one of the believers and that you think this whole Lisan al Gaib thing is just bullshit.“ Paul is offering you his cup and you accept to take a sip. Immediately the taste of wine fills your senses. While you process his words you lick some of the wine from your lips and catching him starring at them.

Did you just imagine how his gaze darkened for a second or did that really had an impact on him?

You clear your throat because all of the sudden your mouth got dry again. „You talked to Chani about me?“

A crooked smile shows on his lips. „Yeah I did. I was … I wanted to…“

„I thought you were good with words?“ You say to mock him with success.

„I am good with words! But you have the talent to make me forget what I wanted to say and how.“ His eyes are locked with yours and you are able to feel how your heart skips a beat.

You wanted to say something but your mind were blank. Paul moves closer to you, slowly to make sure that you were able to stop him at any time.

„I like how you unsettle me“, he whispered. You could feel his breath against your lips. „Every time I see you I find new strength. But I never found the courage to talk to you.“

„But you … you always seemed so … full of courage“, your voice was not more than a scratching.

„I’m good at pretending“, Paul swallows hard and his eyes darted to your lips again. „Sometimes.“

„Sometimes?“ You asked.

„I can’t pretend that I don’t want to kiss you right now.“

You wanted to say something, but before you were able to even catch a breath his lips laid on yours. Soft like the morning wind in the desert. His hand holding your cheek and pulling you closer as you gave in to the kiss. Your fingers find their way up his chest and into his curled hair.

A little moan escaped your throat as he intensifies the kiss and as an answer to your reaction, you could feel him smiling against your lips.

„I think Muad’Dib is enjoying his time with the Fremen!“ You two were interrupted by some drunk Fremen men cheering and applauding from afar.

Paul and you are giggling like kids. Both with red cheeks and swollen lips. „Your people like a good show, mh?“

„Only if the mighty Duke of Arrakis is involved.“

[bunnybunbun0]

Paul Atreides x fem reader where she suffers from chronic pain flare-ups and he takes care of her? I've been suffering from chronic pain for about a year now, and I'd love nothing more than a fluffy fic of getting taken care of by one of my favorite Timothée characters (if this request makes you uncomfortable, I understand, just an idea! ♡)

anon,i am so sorry about your condition,hope you feel better soon,rooting for you and know im here for everything you may need! hope this piece of fiction help ease you a litle bit!

warnings: Paul Atreides X fem!reader,fluff,mentions of pain,chronic illnes,husband Paul,pain being referred to as a curse (its up to you if it means metaphorically or literally),

A deep sigh escapes your lips when the unforgiven sun of Arrakis goes down,bringing in the serenity of the cold dark now adorning the sky. Nighsts were the worse for you,when your joints and limbs feel heavier than ever,the sorenes creeps up onto your figure like a vengeful ghost,yet what pains you the most is the concerned look on your husbands face.

His slim hands ease their way gently onto your waist,as if youre made of thin crystal,before easing you onto your shared bed,you shut your eyes tight,holding back the tears prickling the corners of your eyes.

Paul raises his hands to yor face,gently wiping the tears on yor face.

"shall i run a warm bath for you my lady? i can call upon a servant to brew you some tea,the spices mighthelp rid your disconfort"

His worry was as clear and palpable as his love for you,worth fighting the pain for. Amongsts the the aches of yor curse,you raise your pain ridded arms to cup his cheeck in a much welcome touch,unconciously the raven haired boy leans in to our warm touch.

"All i need is you my lord...your tenderness shall ease the weight of my curse" the twinkle of his eye mades your shuddering breaths a bit more tolerable,and less shalloow "lay with me my lord,let our love show the shining stars we re not so easily defeated"

The love filled atmosphere envelops you in a haze,the screaming of your loins,the fire of your bones,none of it would be enough to get you to give up on your husband,you would rule alongside with him and nothing could stop you.

Coldness fill the once warm spot where you stroked pauls cheeck as he slipped from your touch gently.

" i shall retrieve you a warm tea,and a special root to chew on,youll recover my love,ill care for you to my dying breath"

His soft lips meet yours in such a gentle manner that for a moment nothing else sways yor memory,not the aches of yor cursed body,not the worry of a kingdom with an illed grace,all that matters is paul,and by his touch,by his care,you shall be healed.

soprry its short,i hurried it out during a family function lol

[avatar-of-procrastination]

Hey there 🙋🏻‍♀️. Just saw your post asking for requests and, well, here I am! So, I'm thinking of a "How would Marc react to a partner with ADHD", or a "How would Paul Atreides care for his partner on her period". Not sure if you prefer headcanons or pure prose, but anything works for me. Have a lovely day 💐

Hey! So I myself do not have adhd so I thinking I might get some aspects about it wrong, i decided to write the paul request. Hope you don't mind!

Also this is very short, I'm so sorry >_<

(English is not my first language. Please pardon any grammatical errors. Gifs used, not mine)

A DAY WELL SPENT

You woke up, feeling extremely uncomfortable and tired. Groaning, you turned to get off the bed but found yourself in a really good position. Paul barged into your room, and saw you curled on the bed with your arms dangling out of the bed.

"Not enough space?" He joked. You flipped him off and curled into yourself even more, the action relieving you of some pain. Paul laughed at your antics and pulled a chair towards you.

"Here. I sneaked out some chocolates from the kitchen. I think Duncan saw me come into your room with tbis bag but I dont think he'll tell anyone."

You smiled up at him and took the bags gratefully.

"Thank you so much Paul."

"Anything for my girl." He replied and leaned down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

"Come on. Get up and freshen up a bit. I managed to convince Gurney to give us a day off from training and Father said he has some important meeting so we're pretty much exempted from our other duties too." The news was like music to your ears.

"Wanna watch a movie and stay in bed all day?"

You couldnt help but let the tears slip from your eyes as you hugged Paul tightly. He ran his hand through your hair and let you cry it out.

"I'd love that."

You spent the rest of the day cuddling and eating with Paul, a hot pack on your abdomen. The two of you watched movies, read books and snacked on junk food, before eventually falling asleep on each other. All in all, it was a day well spent.

[gamorxa]

RESTLESS NIGHTS •°. *࿐

PAIRINGS— paul atreides x valkyrie!reader

SUMMARY—from a young age you’ve been paul atreides’ personal apprentice, your duty being to remain professional in protecting the life of the heir to the house of atreides. however, things change after a rainy night of comforting paul after he awakens from one of his terrible visions.

NOTE—this is my first time writing and publishing anything like this for a character, but after seeing dune two i just had to. expect more creations from me in the future. Constructive criticism is welcome, just keep it nice and kind. let me know how i did!

word count: 1.2k

Valkyries are very protective beings. In battle, their ultimate purpose is to carry the fallen warriors that perished in combat, and were worthy of eternal paradise, to Valhalla where their souls would reside in blissful harmony. However, there wasn’t just one type of valkyrie. A heroine valkyrie is what you were — the kind that only guarded the lives of those dearest to them. Your dearest was no one, but the son of the duke of atreides.

When you were first assigned to the house of atreides you just barely reached the ripe age of seven years old. In those times, your duty merely consisted of being the only company around his age the young boy had in his life. Innocent soft exchanges of giggles escaped from dimpled cheeks that ached from continuous smiles. Small pieces of grass littered the wild heads of curly hair the two of you possessed from previously rolling in the freshly cut grass the maintenance keepers recently trimmed. Within years, the grass turned to responsibilities, and the dimples into abstract bruises from the numerous sparing lessons shared between the two of you. Thus, your years of childish assignments were gone.

Now, you reside in the chambers next door to the young heir in case of any and all emergencies. You lie awake in your pristine silk sheets staring at the ceiling. The thunderous Caladan rain pelted down onto glass windows surrounding you, keeping you awake. This was your first night back from your annual trip to the emperor's headquarters where your sisters remain. No other planets you’ve ever visited didn’t have rain as loud as Caladan’s.

A loud groan breaks the song of raindrops singing along the windows.

You bolt out of bed and grab a dagger with the valkyries signature emblem on the hilt. Your hands turn white in contrast to your usual brown skin from how tight you hold it. Raising to the balls of your feet to remain as silent as possible, you trudge over to the door, leaving the comfort of your room. The marble flooring in the hallway tickles the bottom of your feet, but you barely notice due to your desperation to find the source the sound came from.

More thunder cracks. Another groan.

Your head sharply turns to the left toward Paul's room. Your body turns rigid.

Oh no.

Sprinting, you throw open his mahogany dark wood door making it slam into the back wall. There in rumpled sheets lies the source. His limbs are tangled in his blanket as he thrashes around in his bed, his face scrunched up in an expression of pure anguish. Wild brown curls surround him like a halo while the moonlight shines on his pale skin. He looks like an angel. A fallen angel.

“Paul,” you mumbled, letting your dagger slip from your hands.

He stirs in his sheets, letting out another low groan.

Rushing to the side of his bed, you dropped to your knees and cradle his face scanning the rest of body. Just in case.

“Paul!” you repeated.

He bolts up abruptly making your hands fall onto the bed. He’s panting as he looks around frantically before resting his eyes on you. His expression softens.

“Y/n?” His voice is raspier than normal due to the hours of restless sleep.

“It's okay, it’s okay,” you cooed. Your face filled with concern as you brush some of his wild hair out of his face. “I’m here.”

He sighs out the majority of the tension built up, rubbing his face from sleep with his trembling hands.

“More visions?” Your voice is so soft it tickles his ears creating a blanket of comfort. He doesn’t understand how a strong warrior could possess such a comforting voice, but that's one of the reasons he liked you so much. You never failed to make his worries disappear — not with a voice like that.

He only nods.

“Want to talk about it?” You rise from your spot on the floor to sit on the side of his bed making you at eye level and in closer proximity to the stressed boy. His eyes are slightly glossed over, and he’s avoiding eye contact as if he’s embarrassed.

“No,” he looks down in his lap before locking eyes with you, “I thought you were on your trip?”

You shake your head, “I came home early.”

Home. You saying it so casually almost makes Paul visibly melt.

“I missed you,” he whispers. His words hang in the air like a forbidden secret. Well, it was forbidden seeing as the relationship between the two of you was meant to be strictly professional. However, you two managed to lay on the thin layer of gray area in the matter.

You could only bashfully turn your head away towards the window. You hated how he’d say things like that in random moments. More so, you hated how much your cheeks would turn warm and your lips would scrunch to the corner of your face showcasing a deep dimple in the apple of your cheeks. The rain was still coming down harder without any plans to stop for the night.

The boy grabs your chin with his pointer finger and thumb and redirects your attention to his face. You could only look down at your lap before eventually looking into his eyes.

Desire. Burning desire is what his eyes scream as he looks at you.

You escape his hands and rise to leave a painfully lingering kiss on his forehead.

“Get some rest, Mr. Atreides.” You say, slightly teasing as you move to get off the bed. However, he reaches for your hand stopping your movements.

“Stay,” he pleads with desperation laced in his tone.

You hesitate.

“Please, Y/n, I need you.” His eyes are low and bright from the moonlight still coating the inside of his room. His blanket lies low on his waist hiding his boxers, and showcasing his chest of lean and faint abs from his weeks of training. He looked so…

“Fine,” the words slip from your mouth before you realize. Before you know it, he’s scooting over and raising the covers to allow you to easily slip into his sheets. They’re warm from his body heat making you release a sigh of breath you didn’t know you were holding.

He looks at your chest before shyly looking you in the eyes, “Can I-”

You tiredly nod your head and open your arms out welcomingly. The boy immediately goes to rest his head on your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist and tangling his legs with yours. This position feels completely natural and comforting from numerous other nights just like this one in the past. Your hands go to his curls and start massaging his head.

“Thank you,” he rasps out, barely staying awake, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Always,” you started, “I’ll always be here.”

You look down to find that the tired boy has already fallen asleep. With a small smile on your face you look up at the ceiling as more lighting cracks outside. You close your eyes assuming he missed your words.

He heard them. He always does.

[dropitpunk]

when paul has a bad vision

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

paul was deep in thought, but you were patient.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[fragileheartbeats]

⌗ 𝘛𝘊 𝘏𝘊 ⁝ 𝘊𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 ( ♡ )

Timothée always remembers the little things - like how you take your coffee or your favorite flower, surprising you with them just to brighten your day.

He's an expert at giving warm, comforting hugs that seem to melt all your worries away.

Whenever he sees something that reminds him of you, he can't help but buy it, accumulating little tokens of love.

He writes small, heartfelt notes and hides them in places for you to find, each one making your heart flutter.

Timothée loves planning surprise dates, tailored perfectly to things that you enjoy, showing how much he pays attention to your likes and dislikes.

He's always the first one to apologize after an argument, not because he thinks you're right, but because your happiness means more to him than his pride.

Timothée listens intently whenever you speak, making you feel heard and understood, his green eyes reflecting genuine interest.

When you're feeling down, he's there with your favorite movie and snacks, ready for a cozy night in.

Timothée has a playlist for every mood of yours, and knows exactly when to play which song to lift your spirits.

He loves holding hands, interlocking fingers with yours, making you feel safe and connected.

Timothée creates a photo album of your moments together, captioning each picture with a sweet or funny memory.

He supports your dreams unconditionally, encouraging you to pursue what makes you happiest.

Timothée makes you feel safe and loved with his constant, unwavering loyalty and kindness.

He values deep, meaningful conversations under the stars, sharing dreams, fears, and everything in between.

He always knows how to make you laugh, even on your gloomiest days, with his quirky humor and lighthearted antics.

Whenever he talks about the future, it's always "we" and "us," making you feel included and loved.

He always makes sure to kiss you goodnight and good morning, starting and ending each day with a gesture of love.

Timothée sends you good morning and goodnight texts without fail, ensuring he's the first and last thing on your mind each day.

He loves cuddling, especially on lazy mornings, making it hard for you to get out of bed.

Timothée warms up the bed for you on cold nights, making sure you're comfortable and cozy.

He leaves voicemails saying he misses you or just to say "I love you," giving you something to treasure when you're apart.

Timothée learns and cooks your favorite dishes, striving to make them just right, filling the house with delicious smells.

He's always gently pushing you out of your comfort zone, helping you grow and experience new things.

You catch him staring at you with such adoration when he thinks you're not looking, his green eyes shining.

Timothée has a special nickname for you, one that he uses with such tenderness it always brings a smile to your face.

He's always interested in your day, listening intently and engaging in every detail you share.

Timothée holds you close during thunderstorms, making you feel protected and cherished.

On your anniversary, he makes a point to recreate your first date, adding a twist that makes it even more special.

He surprises you with a small, thoughtful gift on random days, just because he loves seeing your reaction.

Timothée supports your dreams unconditionally, even if it means making sacrifices on his part.

He takes time to learn about and engage in your hobbies, even if they're not his usual interests.

Timothée looks into your eyes with such adoration, making you feel like the only person in the world.

Your comfort is his priority; he'll lend you his jacket without a second thought if you're cold.

Timothée creates a playlist of songs that are significant to your relationship, each track telling a part of your story.

He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making your heart flutter.

Timothée always makes sure you get home safely, showing his care and concern for your wellbeing.

He plans trips to places he knows you've always wanted to visit, making dreams come true.

Timothée has this habit of whispering "I love you" in your ear at the most unexpected moments.

He's not afraid to show his vulnerability with you, sharing his fears and dreams openly.

Whenever you achieve something, no matter how small, he celebrates it as if it were his own achievement.

Timothée creates a cozy space at his place for you, making sure you always feel welcome and at home.

He is patient with you, understanding that everyone has their flaws and loving you all the more for yours.

Timothée makes a habit of saying "I love you" in different languages, making each declaration of love unique and romantic.

He teaches you new things, whether it's a skill he has or interesting facts he knows, enriching your life.

Timothée keeps a journal of your relationship, documenting thoughts, feelings, and memorable moments.

He insists on taking selfies together, wanting to capture every moment with you.

Timothée makes you feel loved and cherished every single day, in countless little ways.

He's your biggest advocate, always encouraging you to believe in yourself as much as he believes in you.

And finally, no matter how busy he is, Timothée always makes time for you, showing that you are his priority.

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

[periprose]

Priestess | Sayyadina

Faith is falling in Sietch Tabr. Reverend Mother Ramallo has a solution– marrying Naib Stilgar to one of the Sayyadina, in order to greater connect the people and the spiritual way, and enable Lisan Al Gaib’s journey to freedom, when he appears. This is your story as the chosen priestess.

Genre: arranged marriage to lovers, fluff, smut, (oral, piv, 18+) angst, lots of sci-fi Dune book references

Word count: 9.8k

Fremen Dictionary:

Sayyadina: Lower ranking priestess(es) who have not yet drank the Water of Life

Naib: Leader of a Sietch

Sietch: Cave/place of assembly by the Fremen

Sahar: Reader’s Sietch Name

Biet: Reader’s Fremen Name

Stilgar climbs up the rocky terrain, his fingers adeptly finding well-known grooves in the stone as he lifts himself to the absolute top of the cliff.

He needs some time to think over his conversation with Ramallo, Sietch Tabr’s Reverend Mother, before he heads back to the Sietch. Stilgar is not one to stay away from his people, his community— but for once in his life, it’s too close for comfort.

As Naib, there will be too many people coming to him at once, asking for his advice and input on things he is normally capable of answering. Friends and family will approach him closely, knowing too much about him to tell there’s something on his mind, and expecting him to be transparent as he typically is.

For this moment, though, he needs his head to be clear. He cannot be as jovial as he might’ve been in the past.

What Ramallo offered him is a subject matter he does not take lightly. 

The sun is setting as Stilgar remembers their conversation from the previous hour.

/

“As Sayyadina, as Reverend Mother, my honest recommendation is that the Northern Fremen need to replenish their numbers.” Ramallo speaks in hushed tones of Chakobsa, the native Fremen language.

Stilgar is slightly confused. The concept of child bearing is not one that he has to be concerned with, as he, despite his older age, has not been married yet.

Something he admonishes himself for.

“There are many of us, but we could always expand. I have already suggested to the South that they could send some of their people here, if they would like to be.” Stilgar frowns. “So many Fremen in the south, densely packed, is an easy way to be attacked. We could spread out more.”

“Save your war-speak for later, Stilgar.” Ramallo tuts, and then sighs a long, languid sigh that has Stilgar feeling much younger than he really is. “I don’t mean simply bringing people here.”

He’s never sure what the Reverend Mother wants, but he always gives her his full attention. Something about staying in his faith for so long has kept him here, grounded, seated in front of Ramallo, ready to do what needs to be done. Not just for the Mahdi, as he is often teased about, but so he doesn’t lose himself.   

“Please. Tell me.” He asks, kneeling his head down in a solemn movement, and Ramallo knows he’s ready for this.

“The youth of Sietch Tabr don’t believe in our faith anymore, do they?” Ramallo wraps a gnarled finger around her wrist, feeling a minor form of trepidation she is sure real Bene Gesserit have never felt. “They laugh when we speak of Lisan al Gaib.” 

“They have not read the prophecy.” Stilgar swallows, unsure if he can really speak on this, when he regards himself as a humble follower. “They laugh because they do not believe in the Mahdi to free us.”

Stilgar thinks of his niece, Chani, who suggests that a Fremen could be the Mahdi. He knows this can’t be true, because he believes his people are fed-up— it should have happened by now if one of them was truly possessed with that capability.

“Sietch Tabr is too worldly now. I worry that if we lose our faith, we cannot usher in Lisan al Gaib as he should be, and our promise to freedom.” Ramallo fixes her cold, foggy pupils on Stilgar, the cloudy whites making the typical Fremen-blue appear more teal. He shivers at the idea. 

“I want you, as Naib, our political leader, to take one of the Sayyadina as your wife. One of the lower priestesses.” 

Stilgar nearly protests instantly, feeling embarrassed to even think of desecrating a Sayyadina like this, but the old Reverend Mother knows what he thinks of this. 

“It would be a marriage between our religion and our people, a symbolic union. I believe our spirituality will be renewed.” Ramallo taps his hand. “I’m an old woman now. I cannot make as much as a difference as my younger sisters— and you and I both know it is written that we must keep bearing children.” 

Stilgar swallows. He only vaguely knows of the Bene Gesserit, but he can guess Ramallo was deeply inspired by their way, marrying into families, keeping a physical bloodline going. The only thing that troubles him, is that he’s unsure of what this has to do with having children with a Sayyadina in particular. 

“If you have children, especially with a Sayyadina, they are more likely to be faithful. Perhaps we cannot convert the others,” Ramallo grits her teeth. “But I believe we can start anew.”

/

Stilgar knows he cannot force himself on any of the Sayyadina. It’s bad enough that they cannot say no to the Reverend Mother’s command, especially with that shocking, unnerving Voice she uses, so he would much rather let one of them pick him. Yes, that’s what he’ll do— walk into the temple, and let them approach him.

He just hopes he’s not too old, too ugly, too entwined with his role as Naib. He wonders if that’s why women haven’t necessarily been interested in him— what with his constant vigilance to keep Sietch Tabr safe and with a good allocation of resources, which makes him rather unapproachable, not as dashing as a typical Feydakin.

He knows how Lady Jessica looked at him with reproach when he offered himself to her, to protect her and her son, Paul. Yes, even the name Paul suggests something more to him— he still thinks he could be Lisan al Gaib. But either way, Lady Jessica did not want to be connected to him like that— so Stilgar feels that he must admire how marriage exists in that intrinsic bond between two people, from afar.

On the other hand, he feels the slightest tinge of hope when he remembers that a Sayyadina would surely be impressed with his devotion. In fact, Stilgar feels a slight grin on his face, as he climbs down from his cliff, thinking of a veiled Fremen priestess, eyes of Ibad even bluer than his own, marking her commitment to the faith. Holy, but his, to see like no one else would, and to be devoutly loyal to.

Almost like a personal representation, an extension of their faith together. And suddenly Stilgar feels understanding to what the Reverend Mother said, as he walks through the night, back to his quarters, that there would be power in this.

/

You’re chewing on your bottom lip, knowing that it’s a needless thing to do— a waste of water, now, that a drop of blood has been drawn from where you have accidentally split your lip— and you can’t help yourself.

Reverend Mother Ramallo grasped you and your sisters’ hands during prayer this morning, and told you that Stilgar would choose one of you as his wife.

It’s a bit surprising. As a Sayyadina directly under a Reverend Mother, you simply expected to be on your own, until she died and one of you would have to take her place. Other Sayyadina marry, yes— but you’ve always studied under Ramallo and assumed that you would not have to.

You know the Bene Gesserit— as far away as they are to you— form alliances like this with men, and it’s an honourable thing, typically, to produce a child from a union and continue on a legacy of people. It’s with that line of thinking that you asked Ramallo if this is what you were meant to follow.

“Sahar.” Ramallo used your Sietch name, the one that is only known among your sisters for the most part, as most Sayyadina consider their Sietch name to be their sacred name. “Smarter than I sometimes give you credit for. Yes, like our fellow priestesses, we too can create children for the sacred purpose of replacement.”

You smiled, but Ramallo had a slightly weary look in her eyes.

“I don’t want you girls to forget the sacred duty. Continue the faith. Do not let others forget our long wait for the Lisan al Gaib. Pass this onto your children, if you have them.”

You nodded, and whispered a silent prayer that hopefully soon he would be found, and that in itself would be enough to push people.

/   

So now you wait. You know Stilgar— you’ve conversed with him before, in lunch circles, at the deathstill. He was kind enough— he always bowed when he greeted you, and you liked that, liked that he acknowledged your importance in your role here, however small it may be to you. And he always had a careful, leaning inwards glance, where he would be intently listening to whatever you had to say, even if you simply wished him well and hoped that the Maker would bless him and his passage.

It also significantly helped that he was so handsome to look at, too. You’ve heard women murmur about their surprise on his lack of a wife, and how they’d be grateful to take him, if they got the chance. You don’t disagree– you know you’ve spent many a moment glancing too much at him.

But Stilgar seems intensely busy, and you do not be the one to pull him away from his duties. You have had the privilege of being unaware of fighting, of battles and duels, and now to be potentially married to him, it feels like you’ll simply not fit into his life.

And, on the other hand, as you glumly sit on your bedding, rolling a pebble on the stone floor, you think about how you’ve had little-to-no experience with men.

It’s not that it wasn’t allowed, you’ve always been preoccupied with your faith. With the Reverend Mother.

You know how Fremen men, especially warrior men like Stilgar would be. They have appetites— your fellow Sayyadina sister Nezua tells you about all her crazy endeavours, while you listen somewhat enviously. There’s a reason why Fremen men take so many wives.

Your stomach lurches a little at that. Although multiple wives are common, to continue to reproduce as efficiently as possible, you dislike the notion for some reason— but you feel selfish and wonder if it is because, as a priestess, you’ve had special treatment until now.

Nezua walks into your quarters, and taps your shoulder. 

“Yes?”

“He’s outside.” She takes your hand. “Don’t worry, Sahar. I am sure he will not pick one of us— he will probably pick Ranira. She barely wants to be Sayyadina.”

“But isn’t that against the point?” You squeeze your hands together. “For a union between faith and people—” 

“C’mon, Sahar. Don’t tell me you really believe that.” She rolls her eyes. “Whoever ends up being Stilgar’s wife will probably be in his house most of the time, ‘praying’, but really just dutifully waiting for him.” 

“I suppose…” You don’t want to tell Nezua that she’s wrong. That Stilgar is more devout than she thinks, that he’s not a cheat looking for a free wife to use while pretending to care about the faith. 

Stilgar has always come to the temple to pray, even when it is not necessary for a man of his standing to do so— as he often speaks of needing to continue his worship towards the Maker, the One God, and Ramallo is always pleased to let him in. She wouldn’t do that if he had some sort of ulterior motive, as other less honourable men have in the past.

It’s with a jolt that you realize you already care for him on some level. At the very least, you think highly of him.

Nezua pulls you up off your bedding, and you adjust your veil before going off into the main prayer hall with her.

Upon seeing the arrival of all six Sayyadina sisters— the current number of high priestesses directly under Ramallo— Stilgar pushes himself into a deep, reverent bow, and as he arises again, his gaze seems to linger on you before coming across your sisters.

You feel both excited to potentially be picked, and terrified to leave the temple where you have lived your whole life.

/

Stilgar can’t help but have his eyes drawn towards to you. Not just because you’re beautiful— you are, though, with the eyes of Ibad, deep blue pupils, a wise, judicial expression upon your face— and he wonders why.

Not out of disrespect, but Stilgar often sees the Sayyadina as being sort of withdrawn, within themselves, perhaps solemn in the religious vows they have taken. Even now, your sisters don’t meet his glance as often as you do.

Stilgar thinks you may be defiant. Maybe a troublemaker of sorts. His heart has a sudden thrill at the idea, but his mind knows this isn’t what’s necessary for this arrangement.

“Hello, sisters.” He smiles in a firm, thin line, meant to be placating to those around him. “I believe you know why I’m here. I hope this will not be an uncomfortable process for us all.”

He takes another look at you. No, you’re simply… you’re taking him in. And Stilgar decides that’s overall better than being defiant. Closer to the values of a leader, not even in just a spiritual way as the Reverend Mother had suggested to him. 

You’re gauging his reactions, trying to read if he’s more of a rascal than he lets on— but he meets your previous idea of him, a reverent, kind man trying not to do harm, and your mouth settles into a assured, small smile.

Stilgar feels comforted, pleased even by your expression, and he knows he’s going to pick you.

”Sayyadina—” He points to you so there’s no confusion, and your sisters appear as neutral as they can, while you read micro-expressions of either relief or disappointment. “I would like to speak to you on this matter.”

You shuffle in silence as you leave with him to a different, quieter corridor, and as you turn and fix your veil, Nezua flashes a grin at you.

So your feelings were that obvious, you think.

/

Stilgar is a great deal taller than you. You have to peer upwards to really look at him, and you think he likes that— there’s a slight twinge in his eyes that makes you feel easily drawn to him.

“Why me, Naib?” You ask, and Stilgar stares at you for a moment longer, before tearing his eyes away to stare at the architecture of the temple. 

“You have a knowing look in your eyes, Sayyadina.” He responds in turn to your use of Naib— a term denoting him as Leader of the Sietch. You use it so not to be overly familiar with him, but you understand you both respect each other.

“So you picked the most shrewd of us, is that it?” You wrinkle your nose in a slight laugh, but then actually grin as Stilgar laughs.

“One could call it shrewdness. I simply see that you are not afraid, you look for what you know you must find. Only great leaders make the approach.” He explains this so clearly, you were not even entirely aware that you were doing such a thing. 

“It only makes sense to do so, Naib. I could not just stand there and allow you to do all the decision making.” You admit with tact, so not to drive him away.

He nods. “That is why you will be a great one.”

Stilgar seems comfortable with you already, and yet his expression takes a pained look for a moment. 

“It's for that reason I do not want to force you into this… uh, arrangement.” He admits, and you are taken aback for just a moment, just a slight gasp.

“What makes you think I don’t want to be your wife?” You speak too soon, maybe too boldly but Stilgar likes that. Despite not even being betrothed yet, you are so forward with him, so ready to be claimed by him.

And he's just as willing a participant to be claimed by you, so he smiles, watching you turn a little flustered, but you let your feelings for him stay apparent for a moment.

It's not like there's room for privacy in a marriage, you think.

An arranged marriage, you admonish yourself. He’s here only in the most professional of terms. Don’t complicate this with your idiotic feelings, you still have a job to do.

“I just meant that– it would be an honour to be associated with you, Naib.” You keep your head tilted downwards, trying your best to be the reverent Sayyadina you’re known as.

“Of course.” He swallows, unsure if you’ve suddenly become shy, or that you’ve decided to be more cunning– something he admires anyways. He thinks not many women would actually be attracted to him, what of the mug he calls a face, and so he decides to just be glad that you’re willing to be with him.

“Okay, Sayyadina. If you’ll have me as your husband, then,” He grasps your hands in both of his, and he has the kindest look in his eyes, and you look back up at him, feelings simmering on the inside as you maintain a peaceful facade. “We will have our engagement arranged soon.”

Then, ever so gently, he pushes back a part of your veil, wanting to see your face better.

/

You visit him more often after that. Usually in the hall, where there are other people, and you do this so people don’t think you’re too in love with him already– visiting him secretly would only prove that, suggest some sort of affair of a human connotation.

By being around the others, people feel that things are coming into place– religion and leaders are creating a strong, united front that will lead the Fremen to peace. More believers for the Lisan Al Gaib. And you are glad to already be pushing people along the path that Ramallo set out for you.

Stilgar has a stronger look at you, now. Not just the polite glances of before. With every conversation, he takes you in, drawing more and more conclusions. And with every moment, he learns more about you, and he likes what he learns, too.

He sees that you like your food spicy, as does he. And you especially enjoy tabara– the soft sweet cake made of tabaroot, honey, and spice, rich and sweet in flavour, adorned with fruit. It’s a rarity in Arrakis, since a few of the fruit come from offworld traders– so he gives you his portion and you two argue over this, before Stilgar eventually puts his foot down as Naib.

“You should accept. Extra portions go towards those who need it, not me.” Stilgar says, ever the humble one as you’ve come to know him.

“Except this isn’t an extra portion, is it? Sayyadina aren’t supposed to indulge so much, leaders like you may deserve it as you do such hard work.” You taunt him, knowing that you’re both so similar– you could argue forever with Stilgar because you’re equally as willing to sacrifice things for each other.

Great leaders, indeed.

“Sayyadina, don’t make me remind you how important your creed is.” He tuts, and you find yourself simmering with attraction to him– you are beginning to look forward to these conversations more and more everyday. “Your work is just as important– don’t do a disservice to your life just for me, okay?”

The people around you shift in their spots on the floor, to listen more closely, and you recognize that although you and Stilgar grow closer– the intended effect is taking place. People are supportive either way.

Maybe you don’t have to be distant, overly religious, to win support. Maybe, like what Ramallo said, they need to see how spirituality can touch people, and how you’re just a person as well.

He places the piece of cake in your bowl again. “Accept it as a gift, Sayyadina.”

You smile up at him, squeeze his hand without thinking. “Okay, Naib. Thank you.”

/

Stilgar cannot stop thinking of you, even when he is training Usul to fight in the Fremen way.

He remembers your last meeting, a few weeks after your initial one– and then how you said in two days time, after your faithful prayer that the Shai-Hulud would allow your union to be peaceful, you could begin the engagement ceremony. And Stilgar focused on how serious you were– how holy this approach was, how you seemed to glow from within, with some otherworldly energy, and even now he could tell he was enamoured with you. With that strong gaze, eyebrows tensed and purposeful in their thought.

Usul– Paul, at this moment, with his lack of focus– cannot stop staring at Chani while she practices sparring with her friend.

“Usul. Usul.” Stilgar shakes his shoulder, and Paul finally tears his gaze away. “You’re too distracted, my friend.”

“I’m sorry, Stilgar.” Ever the charming, young lad, Paul smiles placatingly towards Stilgar, and even he is too struck by his charisma to avoid it. “I’m here. I’m ready.”

“Please, tell me what bothers you.” Stilgar knows, already, as Paul stares down at his hands, that the boy has eyes for his overly tenacious niece. “Is it a matter of the heart?”

“Yes.” Paul exhales. “It’s not important right now. How did you know?”

Stilgar smiles reproachfully. “I… I suppose I should tell you honestly, before the others get to know.”

It strikes Paul that the Fremen trust him so readily– even Chani, with her misgivings about the prophecy, seems to be swayed towards him, and he does not know if he enjoys the attention, the privilege this grants him. Again, he is struck with that terrible purpose– that he will use these people for his own benefit.

Stilgar interrupts his line of thought. “Soon, I am to be married to one of the priestesses.”

Paul grins. “Ah, Stilgar, you rogue. You’re distracted, too.”

“Yes.” Stilgar admits, and he thinks of you with your deep blue eyes, your careful-yet-understanding glance, and he longs to see you again. To get to know you better. Yes, Stilgar may not truly know you, but he feels he has been on your side this whole time. Every glance at the temple, every cursory conversation at the deathstill, it has all been building up to something– perhaps not what he had imagined it to be, but he would never consider himself unlucky for this, or that Ramallo could ever be wrong about her plans.

As Naib, though, he still has his duties, and he tuts and tells Paul to get back on it. And Paul, strong young man wanting to prove himself, uses his Bene Gesserit training to imbue a level of focus that no woman could possibly break.

/

The engagement ceremony day is finally here.

You're excited, yet nervous to be known as Stilgar's wife. It feels more real with every approaching moment– it’s not just a silly, girlish fantasy, it’s something that everyone will see and know as a tangible union.

You haven't got any time to see him– Stilgar has been away with other Feydakin, no doubt unleashing hell on Harkonnen troops– and so you wait for his return.

The first of many waiting periods, you know that. You always knew this was going to be more of a political marriage– more in meaning for Sietch Tabr than really having to be around each other.

But you miss him, anyways. You like him, and despite your attempts to focus on praying to the Maker that he will be okay, you search for him on the sandy horizon every minute of this auspicious morning, the sun blearing into your eyes.

“You know he hasn’t come this far without his own talent.” Nezua reminds you, as she watches you peer up, blinking in the sunlight. “He’s not Naib for no reason, Sahar.”

All priestesses– both low and high– and other religious Fremen crowd around the outskirts of Sietch Tabr, hidden under cliffs in order to stay in the shade. Yet you reach outwards to look at the sun, risking your sweat even as you know you’re supposed to reserve it.

Lady Jessica, part of the sacred mother-and-son duo from the outer world, watches you with a gaze you cannot place. You know it is not simple curiosity– there is something new and malicious in her stare that has only heightened after Stilgar had asked to be betrothed to you.

A sudden gust of wind blows sand around you two, and Nezua tightens her veil, firmly jutting her jaw in a way that tells you she must be right, that you worry about nothing. 

Ten minutes later, after praying and hoping, Stilgar returns over the sunrise, victorious in battle, and you feel he looks exhausted– yet his face breaks into a smile when he sees you.

He is greeted by many Fremen, fellow family members, but Stilgar pushes them aside, making his way directly towards you.

And you let yourself be pulled upwards by him, as he grasps your hands.

There’s something sweet and endearing here– almost innocent in how he looks at you, as if he’s been waiting to see you again just as long as you have. But you quickly remind yourself that this moment is not just yours– it would be considered somewhat heartless by other Fremen if Stilgar did not appear to like you, and by extension, the whole marriage’s point would fail.

“Sayyadina–” He holds up the Water Rings, the metallic counters representing the volume of water a Fremen could release into the deathstill. Here, they mean that you will be tied to Stilgar, as you are now betrothed to him. “I ask you to be married to me, by nightfall.”

“So soon?” You ask, wondering why he would want to do it so early.

“It cannot wait much longer. Reverend Mother Ramallo is not well.” He tells you, and your heart sinks, wondering why your dear reverend mother has not told you about this.

You’ve seen the signs– she struggles with fine motor skills and often her cataracts make it difficult to see anything– but you are still surprised.

“Okay.” You swallow, and then smile up at him, and he squeezes your cheek in a fond gesture that makes you feel heat rise there.   

“We will be wed tonight.” He calls out in Chakobsa, and the Fremen around you rally with glee, and you feel that whatever this is, even if Ramallo does not live to watch it play out– it’s working.

/

The unmarried women of the tribe fix your hair with the rings Stilgar presented to you, and you feel ever the part of the blushing bride. You know it’s not wrong to genuinely have feelings in this arrangement– you just hope Stilgar feels the same way.

Chani grins at you. You know her well– you’re around the same age, you’ve grown up somewhat together– and you wonder if she feels odd about her uncle marrying you.

“No, if it means I can call you Auntie, I’m happy.” She jokes, and you shove her as she laughs.

Chani rarely laughs like this as of late. She’s always so hard on herself– she thinks she has to be because of how indoctrinated so many Fremen are to the faith. And despite your life as a Sayyadina, Chani has never let your conflicting beliefs stop her love for you.

You only wish she’d be more careful as a warrior. As a freedom fighter, Chani sometimes lacks restraint– so you’re grateful to see her happy.

“Well, maybe some day you’ll be married, too.” You squeeze her hand. “To a great warrior.”

“I don’t know, Biet.” Chani calls you your Fremen name, not your Sietch one, which will be used tonight at the wedding. “Let us focus on you for now.”

“I just… I don’t know if he feels the way I do.” You suddenly admit, and the fear that you’re still going to be lonely crops up. 

Chani shakes her head, that hard, tough scowl on her face back again. “If there’s one thing I know about my uncle, it’s that he’s not an idiot.” 

She presses her cheek to yours. “Don’t you understand how important you are, Biet? How special you are, not just to me and everyone here, but to him especially. Stilgar has not stopped speaking of you for the last couple of weeks.”

You smile softly at that, thinking of how ardently Stilgar looks at you now, how you’ve gotten to know each other over the last few weeks of basic conversation. More close than ever, and yet just far enough that you keep wondering. Is it admiration, gratitude that you’re willing to serve a greater purpose, or something more? You know it’s selfish, but you want him to like you. To love you. 

“Everybody knows, even Muad’Dib.”

At the mention of Muad’Dib, you can’t ignore the slight tension in your spine. Both you and Stilgar have discussed your belief in his abilities, his potential to be the one– but you know that Chani does not share that.

Still, you hear a slight shift in Chani’s tone as she says his name, and you give her a glance.

“You like him, I think.” You tease, and she tells you to shut up in Chakobsa.

You wonder if Muad’Dib was the one who shared this information to his mother, which would make her dislike of you understandable. You get the sense she’s power-hungry, terrifying– she would’ve been a greater candidate for this marriage, an otherworldly mother that fits the prophecy, representing not just the union of politics and religion, but with the power of the Bene Gesserit– and you find that you resist her, anyways. Resist the idea that everything must be for this one purpose.

You want to keep Stilgar to yourself, and it almost frightens you that you might be going against something that you’ve been taught to believe from a young age.

You’re no Chani.

/

The dark of the night spreads across Arrakis.

Stilgar begins the trek up the dune, where you wait, bathed in the moonlight– you’re wearing a different outfit, a dress with intricate beading marking your place as a bride, and instead of a veil, you are wearing a much thinner, transparent shawl that allows Stilgar to make out your silhouette. Your hair is interwoven with his Water Rings.

Stilgar has always known you are beautiful, but especially now of all times, with your blue eyes reflecting him in the silver moonlight as he meets you at the top of the hill– and it’s not a distraction, because he’s meant to be here with you.

He likes you a lot– there’s a taut feeling in his throat, as he realizes he’s watched countless friends and family members get married, but never thought of himself as one of them– and in the past, Stilgar had always felt there was something wrong with him for not marrying sooner. But now, he’s so thankful he waited, because it’s you. His holy, veiled priestess.

You share his faith, after all– but over the last few weeks he’s seen that you share his judgement, too. He only hopes that his feelings will be returned some day and that he won’t scare you off– Stilgar knows he can sometimes be too much.

Reverend Mother Ramallo approaches you two from the other side of the dune. She speaks in Ancient Chakobsa– old marriage passages from the faith, hymns that are sacred in their meaning– and the unmarried women below, begin their chanting and agreement with the hymns. They dance.

Then, Ramallo asks Stilgar in Chakobsa, if he is willing to take care of you, to entirely claim you in every way as the Fremen faith dictates– to not leave you behind. You know she cares for you so deeply, as she’s watched you grow up from a young girl, and you hear a slight twitch in her voice, giving her away as someone who will miss you.

Stilgar responds without hesitation that yes, he will always be there for you. And you believe him. You don’t hear a hint of irony or lying in his tone.

Maybe this isn’t just a marriage of political nature.

Ramallo yells in Chakobsa, using the Voice: “It is finished!”

/

Celebrations are loud, jovial, necessary after the Fremen endured hardship from the Harkonnen. People are dancing, eating, congratulating you.

You’re happy to receive their blessings, and give them back if they wish to hear it from you. You’re still a Sayyadina, and today of all days, you bring especially good luck to them.

Paul Atreides walks forward after Nezua dips– she’s kissed you on your cheek and solemnly stated she’ll miss you at the temple bedrooms– and you’re intrigued, as you’ve never spoken to him before.

“Muad’dib!” Stilgar is next to you, and he shakes his hands, clapping his shoulder, and Paul hugs him.

“Stilgar, Biet–” Paul’s eyes cross towards you, and you don’t sense the same plotting look his mother has. “Congratulations. It’s so interesting to witness a Fremen marriage. I feel like I’ve learned so much just watching. I did not know Sayyadina could use the Voice, as well. Impressive.”

You think he’s rather compassionate, but there’s no telling if it’s an act. You ignore that– you’re meant to be happy now.

“Thank you.” You gently squeeze his hand. “I don’t use it often– I believe it should necessitate a purpose.”

“As do I.” Paul agrees, and you are blown away by how casually he reveals that he can use it. Another sign, perhaps, that he is who you and Stilgar think he is.

“In coming times, maybe you too will marry in our way.” You make as an offhand comment, so not to overtly reveal your surprise.

Paul is mildly surprised by this, but he doesn’t look displeased with that. “Maybe. I think many women here are quite beautiful, they could probably pick a noble Feydakin than someone like me.”

“In time, Muad’dib, you may be a Feydakin too. You have the strength to be one.” Stilgar corrects him, and you like that your husband is so forthcoming, a true mentor that supports everyone.

“Besides, you’ll need to be one if you want to impress Chani.” You input, and Stilgar looks a little taken aback by this development, while Paul looks more interested.

“Really? You think Chani and I…” Paul swallows down whatever he’s going to say, looking suddenly a bit darker and worried. “I would be lucky if she considered me.”

Paul bids you two goodbye, while Stilgar laughs. “A humble one, isn’t he?”

“Better that than overly boastful.” You hum. “Either way, I hope he is not perpetuating a false image.”

Stilgar agrees. 

As the party dies down, he takes your hand, and together, you walk back to Stilgar’s quarters.

/

He’s rather quiet as he sits on his bedding, cracking his knuckles.

Stilgar is not afraid of you, exactly– he’s afraid of what your relationship should or should not be. He does not know the boundaries in which you two operate, and he’s afraid once he opens that conversation up, of your potential rejection. 

Other men would tell him that as your wife, there should be no confusion– that he should be able to bridge the gap, and you would accept it, no questions asked.

But Stilgar had not come this far by simply guessing at things. He knows as Naib, the general context you two have– and he needs to know if you feel the same way, if you don’t just want this marriage to be symbolic in nature.

“Sayyadina,” He calls you, and you sit next to him on his bedding, staying a short distance away, just for respect.

You laugh at that internally. You’re his wife, and you still call on some level of respect. Maybe because you’re afraid of acting on these feelings you have– a hunger for closeness– and you would rather use the excuse of respect instead of pushing him towards you.

Stilgar says Sayyadina with fondness in his tone, though. A formal, spiritual term has never sounded more husky, more inappropriately close than ever– you let yourself hope.

“I’ll ask you this once, and make your answer clear, so I do not bother you otherwise.” Stilgar pauses, wanting to be sensitive about this subject. He doesn’t know exactly what you’re comfortable with. “I want to know if you want to be more than wife in name, or if your heart is drawn to being within your faith.”

“Who says I can’t be both, Stilgar?” You bite your lip, and Stilgar’s face stiffens. “There’s nothing in our faith that says a priestess can’t have both.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He pauses, grappling with what to say.

“I don’t want to be a burden to you.” He says, and you laugh, for real this time, a louder laugh than he’s heard before, and he grins, liking the twinkling sound of it, but then frowns. “I’m being serious. You should not have to lie with me just for everyone else’s benefit. The marriage has brought people to greater spirits, already.”

“What if it’s for my benefit?” You speak in a hushed tone, but Stilgar listens to every word, inching closer to you. “What if I feel more spiritual when I’m next to you? I feel the Maker’s way flow through me whenever we speak, I feel like I can understand and interpret so much more because I know we are supposed to be with each other, not just metaphorically, but in all ways.”

Stilgar is taken aback by your boldness, and so are you to some degree, but you continue. “I’ve been ignoring this the last few weeks, but I think that’s what love is. What is faith without love? I think I love you, because you make me understand what I’ve been missing…” You smile up at him. “You’re my greater context, Stilgar.”

Ah, He thinks. This woman is too sweet to me. She understands.

“Sayyadina…” He sighs, a deep shuddering sigh revealing so much emotion; relief, really. You’ve never seen Stilgar like this, but it gives you a sense of how much he represses. “You feel like the missing piece I’ve been waiting for. You… you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for a woman that understands me.”

“I never thought I could have the chance to love anyone,” He admits with some reservation. “My appearance tends to ward women away.”

“But you’re beautiful.” You whisper, smiling up at him, and Stilgar feels your hands trace around his face, and he closes his eyes, listening to the sweetness of your voice. “You’re only intimidating because of who you are, Stilgar, but I promise, you’re beautiful. I’m not the only woman who thinks that.”

Before he can respond in turn, that you’re more beautiful than him, the stubbornness that you two share– you let that unspoken urge inside you, the one you’ve never acted on before, overtake you. And you pull his face downwards in a searing kiss, one where he can still taste the spice on your lips after what you ingested at your wedding dinner.

He honestly has not touched a woman in years– not out of some purposeful celibacy, but more because he has been so focused on maintaining Sietch Tabr. And whatever memories he has of that time, right now is easily trumping them.

You part your lips as Stilgar does, kissing him with abandon, again and again as your lips move with his, and he squeezes your waist before pulling you onto his lap.

He groans. There’s a hard bulge in his pants that you’re sitting squarely upon, you know what that is– you’re not entirely uncultured about this.

You experimentally roll your hips over his crotch, finding a sudden pleasure in your lower half as you do so, and he stutters, suddenly, pulling your face away from his, breaking the kiss.

“Sayyadina– wait, slow down.” He holds your wrists in his hands firmly, the heat of the moment causing both of you to sweat. The night air seeps through Stilgar’s window– hot and humid.

You’ve never wanted to be closer to him.

“I’m a little inexperienced. I don’t want to hurt you.” He explains, and you scoff.

“So am I.” You tell him. “Actually, I’ve never…”

“Oh.” Stilgar takes on a very judicial look, one that you’re determined to stop before he rejects you for the “greater good” or something like that. “I would’ve never guessed that. You gave me the impression of expertise.”

“Then let me gain it.” You proclaim, and you cut him off before he says what you know he will. “You’re not forcing me into anything. I want to do this, just like I wanted to marry you.”

He scoffs, now, but Stilgar likes the sound of that and he kisses you again, pulling your shawl off, feeling you wrap around his torso with your legs– he feels you moan and shudder when he squeezes your thighs. He loves this, and when he starts removing your dress– you don’t stop him.

He pulls it down and under you, and you’re bare underneath. Stilgar examines your breasts with admiration– they’re the perfect size, they fit you well– and he immediately takes to one of your nipples with his teeth, causing you to cry out.

As he continues these bites over your chest, squeezing your breasts and your behind, suckling on your neck, feeding off of your sweat, you feel yourself slicken, wetness catching on Stilgar’s pants– so much quicker than you’re used to, when you used to touch yourself in your room at the temple. A waste of water, maybe, but it was worth the relief occasionally.

Stilgar notices, and he wordlessly lays you across his bed, spreading your legs open, looking down at your pussy.

You’re not completely sure what he’s doing, and you feel slightly vulnerable like this– entirely on display for him.

“Let me drink from you, Sayyadina. I would be honoured by this blessing– I thirst, and it would not be a waste.” He says in hushed tones, as he kneels in front of you, and you feel yourself slicken more if that’s possible. The sacred overtones of worship are not lost on you, practically becoming a kink for you as he speaks.

You nod, and he grasps your thighs tightly, practically pushing down on them so you’ll stay with open legs for him– he strokes them a few times, and then dives in with his tongue, lapping and licking slowly upwards to your clitoris, then quickly a few times to taste you faster, which causes you to seize as feelings of warmth and white-hot sensitivity overtake you, and with your fluids, and his saliva, you’re quickly reaching the point of finishing. His beard tickles, and you squirm a little, and start writhing and sweating, moans ebbing out of your throat, but that only makes Stilgar pull you in closer, tighter, pushing his tongue closer, almost inside, refusing your escape.

You don’t want that, anyways. And you finish in his mouth with a flourish as Stilgar laps up what you’ve given him– a drink from a Sayyadina.

You think he’s done, but you lean back with another sigh– a near scream, really– as Stilgar begins to lick at your clitoris, suckling on it, until you’re wet and aching again– and then he uses his fingers to spread your pussy open, and begins to fuck you with his tongue. It’s amazing, wet and writhing and and filthy– it feels nothing like your own fingers and entirely more adept at getting you to another orgasm. The speed at which his tongue languishes inside you should be considered unholy, all things considered– but you feel high, you feel like you’re closer to the Maker than ever– and he suckles at you, his lips closing around your entrance as you moan again and orgasm directly into his mouth.

Stilgar groans. He’s in love with your taste– he thinks he might wake you up every morning like this, if you’ll let him. He’s also painfully hard now– his cock strains against his pants, and he quickly starts undressing.  

“Sorry. I needed a second taste.” Stilgar apologizes, standing up, but he’s not sheepish about anything as he continues to rub you, to stroke your pussy to keep you wet. Up, down, up, down, Stilgar could get addicted to this sensation around his fingers– you’re so warm, soft, wet– he needs to be in you.

You’re beginning to feel overstimulated– you’re covered in sweat, and in between your thighs you’re soaked, practically dripping all over Stilgar’s hand as he continues to work you– and you twitch as you sit up, Stilgar’s fingers prodding inside you.

His cock bobs upwards, shiny with pre-cum, and the tip, hard and redder, while the rest is a flattering tan brown. Although this is your first time viewing the male genitalia, you’re drawn to it. You like how he looks partially naked– vulnerable like you, but warmer, soft and hard in different places– and you reach to take his shirt off, letting his full self be unsheathed.

And you like this– you feel an animalistic draw to his body, his chest hair, the broad muscles under them, and he moans loudly when your finger prods at the tip of his cock. Stilgar lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and spreads your ass, his cock nudging inside your pussy slowly, groaning as it does, gritting his teeth as every centimetre feels like another added pleasure of wetness, the bounds of which he does not know, but he is excited to be familiar with and do this again and again. 

You sink around him easily– you moan against his neck as you do– and Stilgar bottoms out, feeling you grip and tighten around him.  

After what feels like an eternity– both of you drunk on just being intertwined in such a way– he lifts you up again, thrusting outwards, and then back in, pushing you down on his cock, slamming into you. Stilgar’s warrior strength comes into play here– he fucks you relentlessly, and grips you so tightly you think you might be melting onto him. He begins to pound into you, your ass and thighs jiggling with the force of it all, and a severely perverted squelching and slapping sound builds up over time, over and over, his thighs and balls slapping against your thighs and ass, the sound of which you are sure is extremely loud.

You don’t care. You moan loudly, almost yelling as Stilgar’s cock twitches and catches inside you in a place so deep, you’ve never touched it yourself. 

You shake and twitch, barely holding onto him as you do, feeling an immense pressure build inside you, almost painfully, but with pleasure. Stilgar claims your mouth as he thrusts, kissing you, slipping his tongue inside as he drinks from you there– and he loves feeling you moan against his mouth as he does so.

He presses you against him tightly, rutting upwards, and then together he tips the both of you onto his bed again, him on top of you, this time using his fingers to play with your clitoris as you clench around his thrusting. You cum again, this time your fluids adding to Stilgar’s pleasure, and you moan as Stilgar’s hands tighten around your waist. The slap of his skin against yours is laden with sweat and your cum, but Stilgar is insatiable, and he thrusts harder.

You feel him inhale, moan, bite at your neck, and you feel his cock twitch again as he cums inside you, pulling out in a hazy stream, and you writhe against him, feeling the heat of the moment conjoining with the cooler air of the night.

He sighs, satisfied with what has happened, lying down next to you. “May Shai-Hulud allow us to do this again.”

/

Stilgar has to leave again, the next morning, as more Fremen are involved in fighting Harkonnen harvesters, and he wants to oversee this.

“I’m sorry, Sayyadina…” He swallows. He doesn’t want to leave you behind– if he could take you along on his back, he would. 

“Sahar.” You tell him.

“What was that?” He asks, and you wrap your arms around him and his stillsuit, dressed in your traditional Sayyadina dressings again.

“Sahar is my Sietch name. My sacred name, only for my sisters to know.” You explain, although you’re sure Stilgar knows this. He only knows your Fremen name, after all. “Since we’re married– I thought you should know my true name.”

“Sahar is a wonderful name… meaning morning.” Stilgar looks out the window with a slight smile. “But you outdo any of Arrakis’ sunrises, my dear.”

You laugh at that, as Stilgar knew you would. 

“You will still be Sayyadina to me, no matter what name you have.” He says, and there’s a warm feeling in your heart when you hear this, that he has a special name for you. You take his hands, and press your palm to his forehead.

“Oh Shai-Hulud… keep Stilgar safe from unwarranted danger today.” You whisper in Chakobsa, closing your eyes, and Stilgar closes his eyes too. “Do not risk his life.”

Your harsh, suddenly grating tone from using the Voice has Stilgar opening his eyes again. He has never heard you use it before.

“Thank you.” He pulls you up for a soft, parting kiss– and then after memories of last night echo inside his mind– he gives you a firmer, lingering kiss, laden with love for you.

/

Stilgar finds that despite his obvious devotion in his commitment to you– the women are more interested in him than ever.

And if he was a lesser man, perhaps he would act on this. But Stilgar has not forgotten the plan, and he certainly hasn’t forgotten you, not so soon. He knows you two are two sides of the same coin– meant to be.

This was not meant to be an outcome. He sees Feydakin women smiling at him, maybe a little too much– or maybe he has not noticed until now.

You said he was beautiful, and he had thought maybe that was just according to you. But seeing how Lady Jessica greets him, not impolitely but just with more… vulnerability, especially after her duke was killed, he thinks maybe you’re right. Maybe he has something.

Jessica stares at the deathstill, trembling over what Stilgar has told her. She must drink the Water of Life, she must take the place of a Reverend Mother– and she does not want this. She wants nothing more than to be comforted at this moment, because of what a tribulation this new order shall be on her.

Or at least, that’s the image she’s conveying, she hopes, and she believes she has Stilgar wrapped around her finger, her coying, Bene Gesserit way meant to coax people closer to her, and by extension, her wishes.

And Jessica can tell she’s done it right when Stilgar leans over, wipes away her tear, and licks it. Perhaps she can secure more support through playing the part of a sad widow.

/

It’s Nezua who saw what happened.

She interrupts your prayer, your first prayer after returning to the temple, sanctimonious as it is.

“Sahar, please don’t be upset. Just hear me out.” She pulls you into the main hall, where your sisters and Ramallo are reading ancient texts.

“What is it? What’s happened?” You look around wildly. 

Nezua’s deep blue eyes blink, as she wonders what to tell you, how to say it gracefully.

“I saw him. Naib. Standing close to that woman, to Lady Jessica– she cried about becoming a Reverend Mother– he stroked her face, licking a tear away.” Nezua admits, and you instantly blink back sudden tears.

“But he–”

“Men can be rascals, Sahar.” Nezua reprimands you, and you swallow, knowing you don’t know as much as her.

You do know about Jessica, though.

“She has been eyeing him for a while… I’ve watched it happen. She’s got her Bene Gesserit tactics, we know that. She wants to be a Mother, no matter what farce she applies in this moment to gain approval.” You shake your head. “He wouldn’t do that for no reason– she’s very convincing. And Stilgar supports everyone, why would he doubt her?”

Nezua calms down a bit.

“But if he wanted to marry her?” Ramallo suddenly chimes in, and you and your sisters watch as she speaks, suddenly convinced of something. “Would it not be the ultimate culmination of what we seek? The mother of the Lisan Al Gaib, integrated into our society… nothing could compare to how many Fremen this would convert. How many people would choose our way.”

“Great Mother, you picked me for that purpose.” You speak up, almost immediately, without fear. You don’t care if you’re speaking out of turn– you do not want to share Stilgar, lose him to some other woman– and here it seems everyone else is okay with it.

“Yes, and you’ve done well, but you of all people should want us to do better.” She remarks, not without a bit of bite in her tone. You hate that it has to be this way, that you stand in the way of something you used to wholeheartedly believe.

Just this once, you want to be selfish. You have faith that Paul will be Lisan Al Gaib, anyways, so why can’t it just be you and Stilgar?

“Once Jessica drinks the Water of Life, she will be a powerful Reverend Mother– all of Arrakis may be swayed by her.” Ramallo peers at your expression. “Don’t tell me you feel something as foolish as love, Sahar.”

“And if I do?” You state, blatantly.

“Then you must be loving enough to see that this would improve Stilgar’s life by far. Men may take multiple wives, you know that.” Ramallo tuts. “Perhaps you’re not as clever as I once thought.”

“He won’t do it. He knows that his love helps me, and as long as that’s in his priorities…” Your voice dies down, feeling like everything is falling apart as you speak.

“Yes, and how long will he care for a lower priestess when he can have a Reverend Mother? Especially one as faithful as him.” Ramallo shakes her head at your ignorance.

“Shut up! You’ve never felt love, you unspeakable witch–” You scream in Chakobsa, using the Voice, the full power of which seems to shake the temple.

Ramallo slaps you, hard enough that you fall back against the floor. Your skin hums with the stinging feel of a new bruise, sure to make it’s mark on your cheek– and she hisses at you.

“Insolent child. It was I that brought you here. It was I that even gave you the chance to be with Naib Stilgar. He would have never looked at you otherwise.” She mutters, and you feel your eyes glisten with tears.

She and your sisters leave, and you hold your breath, trying not to cry. Nezua strokes your arm.

“Perhaps, if he marries Jessica, it will only be a marriage in name.” She tries, but you shake your head. “You would be the one he really loves, Sahar.”

“Or I would be like a concubine– there to produce children, nothing more.” You think of how quickly you leapt into Stilgar’s waiting arms yesterday, and wonder if you were wrong. If his only intent was to have someone he could fuck on a ready basis.

You shake your head. “I need to speak to him.”

/

You sit on the ground of his quarters, stating a small prayer to stay calm, and when Stilgar walks in, he sounds pleased to see you.

“Sayyadina, I did not expect you back so soon.” He touches your hand, but based on how you draw yourself back, he knows something is wrong. “What is it?”

“You want Jessica. Right? To be your wife?” You say, and he shakes his head.

“We discussed it once–” and your stomach drops at that. “But it would have only been a marriage of convenience to protect her, long ago. Nothing more.”

“Then what happened today, in the deathstill?” You ask, and Stilgar furrows his brows.

“I only relayed Ramallo’s message to her. And she was a bit sad, so I comforted her, that’s all. She almost wasted some water by crying, so I drank it.” Stilgar sits down on the ground next to you. “I promise you, I do not want her.”

“Even if she’s a reverend mother? Closer to your faith? Easier to perpetuate our–” Here you stutter. “The mission?”

“Whoa, whoa.” He softens visibly. “Sayyadina, if you cannot see now that I love you, tell me how to right that wrong.”

“Tell me why you believe you’ll stick with me–” You tear up again and wipe it away. “Tell me you won’t leave me.” 

“I have no interest in Jessica– she is a conniving one, but whatever she thinks may happen, it will not.” He shrugs. “I don’t believe she loves me or wants me in that way, either– she still mourns her duke.”

Of course, you think. She might have only been staring at me that one time because she remembered when she used to be in love. Maybe she was even jealous… Jessica was a concubine.

You suddenly feel much more at peace. You don’t think you would’ve ever left Stilgar even if he had married Jessica– but you’re suddenly more understanding of her pain, to be the one not known in any collected record despite being loved.

“I only did anything I could to make her feel more comfortable with her new role.” Stilgar grins. “And if she succeeds– the faith will have more people interested in it, and there will be less pressure on us.”

“That’s true.” You finally tear your gaze from the floor to look at him, and he smiles at you before frowning at the bruise on your cheek.

“What’s this?” Stilgar gently touches you, and he gets angry hearing you hiss.

“Nothing, just a silly altercation.” You explain, but he’s not satisfied with that.

“With who?”

“Ah… Ramallo slapped me after I said she would never understand love.” Suddenly you’re ashamed, and you feel as if Stilgar would be disappointed in you. “She said the best thing would be if you married Jessica– and I guess I… I didn’t want to lose you, so I used the Voice on her.” “You did?” Stilgar raises his eyebrows, in surprise that you’d do such a thing, make a rash judgement like that against your elder. “I’m sorry you’re hurt.”

You lean into his touch, feeling better that he’s not angry at you.

“But I am sorry I wasn’t there to see you take ownership of me.” He laughs quietly. “You really love me that much? Then I’m only yours.”

You smile so hard at that– massive relief flowing through your nerves– and Stilgar kisses your bruise, before kissing your lips and making you feel whole again.

[missjadesfics]

Paul Atreides

We Can Share - Feyd-Rautha x Reader x Paul Atreides Y/n is Feyd and Paul's childhood friend; rather than choose one, why not have both?

We Made an Agreement - Paul Atreides x Reader x Duncan Idaho Y/n and Paul are married, both agreeing they can sleep with whomever they like. The reader finds comfort with Duncan. But Paul questions if the agreement works for him anymore.

My Gem - Paul Atreides x Reader Paul asks for the Emperor's eldest daughter, Y/n, for her hand in marriage.

Don't play the Fool - Paul Atreides x Reader Paul and Y/n are in an arranged marriage, and Paul notices his bride is unbothered by it. Maybe he can change her thoughts; after all, marriage can't be all that bad.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen

His Little Wife - Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader Y/n is Paul's twin sister and is sent to marry Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen

We Can Share - Feyd-Rautha x Reader x Paul Atreides Y/n is Feyd and Paul's childhood friend; rather than choose one, why not have both?

Delicate Feelings - Feyd-Rautha x Reader Y/n is to wed Feyd-Rautha; intentionally, she is frightened, but Feyd begins to fall in love with her. When a man makes a move on the reader, Feyd reminds him; that he doesn't share.

Our Na-Baroness - Feyd-Rautha x Reader x Duncan Idaho Y/n is arranged to marry Feyd, and her lover Duncan goes as her personal guard to keep her safe. When Feyd learns of the lover's relationship, he ensures everyone understands where they belong.

Yours Truly, Feyd - Feyd-Rautha x Reader (Bridgerton-inspired AU) Feyd-Rautha, who hasn't felt the need for marriage, attends a courting ball to keep in his uncle's good graces. Y/n, on the other hand, has dreamed of her first courting ball, her debut to all the eligible lords. But falling in love with someone without intentions of marriage while thinking they don't reciprocate your feelings is silly, right?

His Sweet Kiss - Feyd-Rautha x Reader Y/n witnesses the attack on Arrakis, hoping to escape and find Paul. She is captured by the Harkonnen soldiers. And the future Na-Baron takes an interest in her.

Sandstorms aren't all that bad - Feyd-Rautha x Reader When Feyd-Rautha and Y/n are stuck in a cave during a sandstorm on Arrakis, they both confess their feelings for one another and find a way to pass the time.

Duncan Idaho

The Sword Master and the Ward - Duncan x Atreides!Ward Reader Duncan Idaho, the Atreides sword master, begins an illicit affair with Duke Leto's ward Y/n

We Made an Agreement - Paul Atreides x Reader x Duncan Idaho Y/n and Paul are married, both agreeing they can sleep with whomever they like. The reader finds comfort with Duncan. But Paul questions if the agreement works for him anymore.

Our Baroness - Feyd-Rautha x Reader x Duncan Idaho Y/n is arranged to marry Feyd, and her lover Duncan goes as her personal guard to keep her safe. When Feyd learns of the lover's relationship, he ensures everyone understands where they belong.

You will never lose me - Duncan Idaho x Reader Escaping from the attack on Arrakis, Y/n Atreides is reunited with Duncan Idaho and living amongst the Fremen in Sietch Tabr. While Paul and Jessica work with the Fremen about the Lisan-Al Giab prophecy, Y/n and Duncan grow closer, revealing hidden feelings for one another.

Leto Atreides

Feyd-Rautha looking after sick reader headcanons | coming soon

Dune men reacting to their so saying " i love you" | coming soon

Dune men looking after reader on their period | coming soon

Duncan Idaho x Reader - You will never lose me | coming soon

[slaybestieslay946]

Stay

pairing: paul atreides x reader

word count: 2000

warnings: light angst with a happy ending

summary: you are the empress of the known universe alongside paul atreides, however, you dont agree with what hes doing, so you give him an ultimatum.

You had always loved the rain. Especially on Caladan. Yes, on your home planet it had rained fairly frequently, but it wasn’t the same. The rain on Caladan came down by the bucket full, not measly little drops. Each minute sheets of water fell from the sky like rolls of silver fabric. 

The only thing that lulled you to sleep more effectively than rain on a window, was the slow, contented breathing of your husband beside you, and the slow movement of his fingers brushing against your waist. Every now and again he’d re-adjust his position to get even closer to you. 

Usually he fell asleep before he was practically clinging to you, but tonight was not one of those occasions. 

“Paul,” You laughed breathily, pushing away from him a bit in order to spin in his arms and face him. 

He groaned in complaint as you moved away from him and opened his eyes blearily. 

“Why’re you moving away…” He complained, trying to pull you back to him. 

“Because you’re practically on top of me, I’m not a hot water bottle.” You chided, although the teasing smile on your face gave away your true feelings. 

“No, you’re better.” He said, a sly smile on his face, “Now c’mere, I’m cold.” 

You sighed, but did as he said, tugging his arm around you and lacing your fingers together. 

You could feel Paul’s smile on the back of your neck as he found a way to hold you even closer. 

“I love you.” He whispered, and you replied in kind, the smile that formed on your face certain to match the one he was currently wearing. 

“Promise you’ll stay with me?” 

“Mhm. I promise.” 

Now, as you paced nervously around the hangar, you couldn’t help but think back to that promise you had made. At the time, you thought that nothing could tear you away from Paul Atreides, not the sun nor the stars. 

Of course, you could never have planned for him becoming Emperor of the known universe. And you could have never known that it would be him tearing the both of you apart. 

At first, when you had been planning your escape, you had hoped that the aircraft would arrive before your husband. That was before you remembered who your husband was now. He would notice you were gone almost immediately, so you had to plan for confrontation, not avoid it. 

“What is this?” A voice came from the entrance to the hangar, echoing through the cavernous room and into your ears. He didn’t sound angry, merely confused.

You turned to face him and his expression was just what you thought it would be, torn between angry and distressed. In his hand, he held the note which you had written, telling him to meet you down here.

“I am leaving, Paul. For Caladan.” You said firmly, turning to face him. 

He smiled weakly, shaking his head, “Why all the smoke and mirrors? If you wanted to return home you should have said so. I would have prepared a ship for us both-”

“Because I am not going with you.” You interrupted, your voice harsh.

“What do you mean? It is not exactly typical for the Empress to leave her husband days after the coronation.” He laughed, but it was not the melodic sound you had once loved, instead it was forced, choked even. 

“Well, you are not the typical Emperor. I am leaving, and you will not follow me.” You stated, remaining firm, even as your heart threatened to betray your mind and run back to him. 

Paul just stared at you, his face painted white in shock. 

“Why?” He asked, his voice cracking.

“Because I can no longer stay by your side and watch you become this. You are becoming someone I do not recognise.” 

“My love, what are you talking about-?”

“I'm talking about this, Paul! Your holy war! You do remember that, don’t you? The war you swore to me you’d do anything to stop? And now, here you are, at its forefront.”

“I had no choice.” He said, his eyes hardening slightly.

“You always have a choice. You are their so-called ‘messiah’. Their emperor. They would fly into the sun if you asked them to. So ask them, stop this war before it consumes everything.”

“You know it is not that simple!” He shouted, and you couldn’t help but flinch slightly before rallying yourself.

“The man I married on Caladan would not have cared about simplicity. He would have cared about what was right, what was moral! He would never have entered this conflict, he would have laid down his life to prevent it! And I would have been right beside him.” 

“This conflict was inevitable! I am doing my very best to minimise the damage, can’t you understand that?”

“I understand that you are still not doing enough.”

Paul looked at you, incredulously, anger filling his gaze, “Really? How can I do more when my own wife does not believe in me! You claim to support me, and yet now you are leaving me. My position is still weak, and you leave the only man you have ever claimed to love.”

“Your position! You are faced with the massacre of your people and all you can speak of is your position!?. Have you no soul left Paul? Did it melt away on Arrakis, scorched by the sun?” 

Suddenly all the anger and venom drained from Paul’s face, and he found himself dropping to his knees, and begging you to stay. 

“You are my soul. You have been all these years. You keep me balanced, you are my morality, my goodness. Everything I do is for you, my love, for your safety. I only care about my position for it is your position also, all the power I have acquired is only in the name of keeping you from harm.”

You looked at him, staring deeply into his eyes, that piercing blue that you had thought so beautiful when they finally changed. Now they were just a reminder of how much he had changed since coming to this awful place. 

“I want to believe you. But you have always had such a way with words. I watched the way you deceived those people into following you, is that what you’re doing now?” 

He rose to his feet again, taking your hands in his. His face was frantic with fear. 

“I would never deceive you. I mean every word, I’ve felt this way my whole life. You are the most important thing to me. You know I would never lie to you.”

For the first time since the conversation began, you hesitated slightly. Could you believe him? Eventually, you landed on an answer. 

“...I do. You would never lie to me on purpose. You are lying to yourself too Paul. You know that I have never wanted position, nor power, heavens, I have never even wanted safety! All I have ever wanted is you, wholly, truly, with no barriers-”

“And you have me!” 

You reached up to splay your hand across his cheek, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill from his blue-blue eyes. 

“No, I don’t have you. I have splinters of you, and I fear the rest is lost. You may bear the resemblance of the man I love, but you are not him.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but no sound came out. 

Suddenly there was the immense whirring of gears, and you knew your ship was here to take you to Caladan.

“I’m afraid we do not have much time, so listen to what I say,” He didn’t react, his face remaining desperate and heartbroken, but you continued anyway.

“If you finally realise what you have done, and you fix it, come to me on Caladan. But I don’t want to see the Muad’dib, or the ‘Messiah’, or the Kwisatz Haderach. The only man I wish to see is my husband, Paul Atreides. Remember that Paul.” 

You gave him one last longing look before turning away from him, and making towards the ship that was emerging from the floor of the hangar.

“I’ll see you again?” He called, his voice cracking slightly as he stared after your retreating form in defeat. 

“Hopefully so, my love, hopefully so.” 

And with that, you stepped onto the outstretched platform of the ship, and shut the door behind you. Paul stayed in the hangar until the craft was gone, biting his tongue so as not to call out to you again and beg you to stay.  

*

The message that the Emperor would be coming to visit you had come far sooner than you expected.  

And you were disappointed in him. He was breaking your agreement, and so soon. It had only been a year, and to your knowledge there had been no change in the situation.

 Perhaps he was coming to ask for a divorce, maybe he’d found someone else since you left. That would certainly be ironic, considering the way he had begged for you to stay on Arrakis. 

However, you were incorrect, because only a few days later a messenger came to tell you that the jihad had ended.         

Immediately you leapt out of your seat, clasping your hand over your mouth in shock. He had done it. 

For the next few days, Castle Caladan was abuzz with preparations for the Emperor returning home. You oversaw said preparations with a watchful eye, and though you wouldn’t admit it, you were happier than you had been in years. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you had missed Paul terribly. 

Yet, when his ship landed, you were nowhere to be found. 

“Where is my wife?” Paul asked one of your ladies in waiting as he strode through the halls of his childhood home. 

“My lord, she left on a walk to the cliffs this morning, and has not returned since. Would you like me to send someone to fetch her?”

The Emperor’s harsh expression softened slightly. “No, I’ll go.” 

It didn’t take Paul long to work out where you had gone, and as he climbed one of the paths up to the cliffs, he was glad to see you sitting on one of the benches, clad in the green silks of house Atreides. 

He called your name, and his voice cut through the gusting winds into your ear, and you turned to face him with a searching look on your face. 

You stood, and couldn’t help but jog towards your husband, gathering your skirts so you didn’t trip and make a fool of yourself. However, you stopped short of running into his arms, opting to stand just in front of him so you could inspect his face properly. 

“Is it you, Paul? Have you finally come back to me?” You asked, your voice cracking slightly. 

“It’s me,” He whispered, reaching a hand out to touch you, “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, what I was doing was wrong, and I know that now, and-!”

You cut off his rambling apology by surging forwards into his arms and kissing him fiercely. He immediately responded in kind, wrapping an arm around your waist and cradling your head in his hand, whilst you held onto the lapels of his coat as tightly as you could. 

Despite the fact you wanted to stay like that forever, eventually the need for oxygen prevailed, and you broke away to take a deep breath in, laughing lightly at the sight of his flushed face. 

He grinned at you, moving the hand that was on the back of our head back to your cheek, brushing his thumb along your face. 

“You missed me?” He asked, teasing, but his voice had a slight edge of concern to it. 

“Yes. I missed you so much.” You said immediately, emphatically. Because you had missed Paul, it felt as if you hadn’t seen the real him for years, and the feeling of being reunited was almost too much for you to contain. 

He let out a short sigh of relief, “I missed you too. But it’s ok, because I’ve fixed it all. They still think I’m their messiah, but I’m going to stop acting like it. And you were right, I was power hungry, and selfish, and I exploited so many people, and I betrayed you, and-”

“Enough, Paul.” You said, looking at him with so much care that he couldn’t help but smile softly, “Yes, you have made mistakes, but it wasn’t all your fault. And you’ve made a change now, you’re doing the right thing. And I’ll always be there for you. I had to leave to help you, but I knew we’d see each other again. And here we are, back home, just like old times.” 

“You’re right.” 

“I often am, my love.” 

He wrapped his arms around you once again, “Will you stay with me, here?” 

You nodded, “Mhm. I’ll stay for good this time.”

[canibeyoungforever]

Masterlist

Imagines:

Neymar Jr

worrying

hurt

take care

here

not at all

your idiot

series:

fight for us: 1 2 3

cora (daughter reader )

Jude Bellingham

so what are we doing now?

princess

our future

Timothée Chalamet

baby bump

us against the world

Kylian Mbappé

your biggest fan

love you just how you are

support

living the dream

pregnant

proposal

sad

released

the drunk girl

all alone or maybe not

the lawyer

you and me forever and ever 2

late at night with you

boss 2

crazy in love with you

pretty woman

Richarlison

never hurt her

my savior

Cristiano Ronaldo

sick

headcanon:

kylian mbappé dating a female rapper

kylian mbappé becoming a father

a/n//you can send requests

english is not my first language

[yourlastbraincell-kiwi]

Veiled Promises

A/N: Part three of the little story I’ve created. I tried to make it longer than the last couple and I think I got it down.

Enjoy!

—————

After Lady Jessica had left, I had a lot more to process than anything ever before.

I went straight to the library and looked for anything, anything that could tell me more about the Bene Gesserit.

Papers, books, journals, whatever.

I was desperate to find any bit of knowledge from these books.

After skimming and reading the books and journal entries, I hadn’t realized I was incredibly tired until it was too late. I had fallen asleep on the books, not long after.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)? Oh, good havens.” I slowly lifted my head as Abigail helped me sit up straight. “What were you doing in here? Late night studying, I presume?” She smiled and was about to let out a hearty laugh, before noticing the books and papers, I had left scattered on the table.

“The Bene Gesserit…” She whispered.

“Do you know about them?”

“Me? Oh no dear, no more than what we already know.” She said scooping up the books and papers off the table, and pushed me towards the exit.

“Wait! What do you know about them, Abi?”

“Know about what?” My father asked as he stood in front of the both of us.

“Nothing, sir. Nothing at all, just taking (Y/N) back to her room is all.” He nods ands lets us go through.

“Make sure you’re dressed for breakfast, there’s something I wish to discuss with you.” I nod and hurried off to my room with Abi.

When we made it to my room Abi closed the door and set the stuff on my bedside table. “What on earth are doing reading up on this?”

“I wanted to learn more about them so I am. What’s so bad about them? Are they bad people? I asked and Abigail falls silent.

“Abigail please. Tell me something. anything.”

“I forbade you from researching on and about them. That’s all I will say to you about this matter.” Abigail makes sure to take the books with her on her way out, and I huff and sighed. I changed into some clothes and met my father for breakfast.

I nodded in the direction of my father as I sat across from him and slowly ate today’s breakfast.

“(Y/N) ? Is there something you wish to tell me?” I shake my head ‘no,’ “No, father.”

“Funny you say that, because Abigail told me somethings.” I sigh and look down at my plate.

“Do you wish to tell me before, I have to repeat what I was told?”

“I was up last night reading up on something.”

“What was it that you were reading about, (Y/N)?” He said, getting visibly angry with me.

“I was reading about the Bene Gesserit!”

“What on earth made you want to read about that?”

“What’s so bad about it? I don’t understand!”

“That’s just it! You’re not supposed to understand it!” He yelled standing up straight, pushing his chair back so hard it squeaked and probably left a scrape on the floor. “Go to your room.”

I furrow my brows, and stand up, “No.”

“(Y/N), go. I’m done with this conversation.” My father looked down at the table, his hands that lay on the table ready to claw their way through with the writhing anger, he had buried deep within.

“I’m not leaving!” I yelled.

“Go!” My father said but the voice much darker, and it felt like that voice. I felt my body being controlled yet again wanting to obey my father’s word, and it did.

I started to move away from the dining table and took a few steps, before realizing I wasn’t doing this on my own free will. I stopped moving my body then and there.

How..?

My dad wordlessly motioned for the guards to grab me by my arms and forcefully removed me from the room.

“Let me go!” I exclaimed, but no matter how hard I thrashed and kicked, they continued to listen to my father’s ridiculous command.

They set me in my room before closing the door and held it shut, seeing as it could only lock from the inside. I banged on the door with my balled up fists, and kicked it, hoping something would happen, but it never did.

I was trapped. And the person that trapped me, in my own room, happened to be my father.

It hurt.

—————

Over in Caladan, the Homeworld of House Atreides, they were getting ready for the Arrival of the Emperor’s Herald.

Paul had been having dreams the previous night, resulting in him being up and at the table earlier than he normally would.

And lucky for him his mother was especially observant that morning.

“You look tired? More dreams?” She asked, Paul had stayed quiet before deciding on not worrying her with any more dreams he’d been having.

He replied with a ‘no,’ and nothing more, continuing to eat his breakfast in silence.

Before Paul was to be in the front of the house to meet the Emperor he was studying more on the Fremen and the sand creatures that lived amongst them.

——

“Smile, Gurney.”

“I am smiling.” He replied, his face not at all contouring, only remaining stone faced as the Emperor arrived.

“How much will it cost them, traveling all this way for this formality?”

“Three Guild Navigators. A total of 1.46 million, 62 Solaris, round trip.”

“By the grace of Shaddam IV of House Corrino, ascendant to the Golden Lion Throne of Padishah Emperor of the Known Universe, I stand before you as Herald of the Change. We are witnessed by members of the Imperial Court, representatives of the Spacing Guild, and a sister of the Bene Gesserit.” The Herald announced and Jessica looked to have taken in a deep breath upon looking at the sister from the Bene Gesserit, practically going stone solid with how tense she had gotten.

“The Emperor has spoken.”

“House Atreides shall immediately take control of Arrakis and serve as its steward.”

���Do you accept?” The Herald asked waiting for confirmation, and Leto walked forward setting his ring in the melted wax to form a seal on the paper after giving a speech.

“So, it’s done?” He asked the Herald.

“It’s done.” And with that everyone left after the Herald and everyone on the spacecraft had left for home.

But one person had instead left had came and welcomed themself inside the House and stumbled upon, Lady Jessica.

———

“What are you doing here?”

“I had to come here, I needed to talk to you, to learn more.” Jessica shushed me and watched as one of the servant rounded the corner.

“No, you shouldn’t have come here. It was a mistake telling you anything about-”

“Who? My mother. Let’s be honest, I was going to learn about her sooner or later.” Jessica put a finger over her mouth silently telling me to be quiet.

“Lady Jessica? Lady Jessica?” A female servant called out to her, probably been informed of her presence by the other servant that Jessica saw.

“Stay right here.” She demanded of me, and I rolled my eyes as she walked away, to talk to the servant.

I turned around finding one of the doors open slightly ajar, I checked to see if Jessica was still talking and decided to step inside, it was their own training room.

“Seems liked déjà vu doesn’t it?”

I walked over to the tables in the room, and gently ran my fingers along the wooden tables. “(Y/N)?” I tensed up and turned around to meet Paul’s eye.

‘Déjà vu, is it. Isn’t it?’ I thought to myself.

“What are you doing here?”

“I had a question.” I stated bluntly, not wanting to get into the details.

“You came all the way down here, because of a question?” Paul asked, or snapped at me more so.

“You don’t get it, Paul. Okay?” I said, balling my fists up.

“What am I not get-?” I watched as someone walked into the room.

“Who is that?”

“No one. It’s okay, Gurney.” Paul said, trying to get Gurney to calm down, and diffuse the situation. “You let someone in without letting your father know?”

“Gurney, listen.” Paul pleaded, as he played his assortment of weapons on the table, taking one out, and stepped closer to me.

“I just need to talk to Lady Jessica.” I blurted out.

“You show up here unannounced, and demand to speak to her? That’s not going to happen.” He stepped closer till my back was flush up against the wall behind me, and his sword lay on my throat.

“Gurney!” Paul called as he stood right next to us, watching Gurney’s every move. “Don’t.” He listened and removed his sword from my throat, and I made a beeline for the exit.

A part of me longed for Paul to chase after me.. he didn’t.

Perhaps it was for the best.

————

I walked back to where I stood with Jessica and watched as she stalked over to me looking both furious and annoyed. “Where did you go? I told you to remain here!”

“Well, I’m here now, can we please go somewhere else?” Jessica would normally be a bit snappy, but she sensed something was wrong, so she softened up and took me to the libraries entrance.

“You know why you’re here, and you know what you want from me.” She stated looking me in the eyes. “If you truly want to uncover such things, then I will not stop you from walking into the library.”

I nod, and open the door and walk inside. “So, be it. You have made your choice.” She said, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Let this not be a waste of time.” She walked past me, and I felt a sense of uncertainty swell up in my chest.

Nevertheless, I have made my choice. And I will have to face it.

No matter the consequences.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @aoi-targaryen

[firelilyfox]

Taking Advantage

Dune: Paul Atreides x female reader

Warnings: fluff / angst / hurt reader / teasing

Words: 1.3k

you came home from battle injured & Paul wants to make sure you are alright

_____________________________

„That was awesome!“ 

The Fremen men and women were cheering in agreement as your group coming back to Sietch Tabr with the sunrise early in the morning. Every step you take, sends little painful impulses through your muscles. The whole night you were fighting against a Spice harvesting ship that belonged to the Harkonnen and although you made a bunch of them pay for their brutal regiment, you came back badly bruised. But you are doing your best to hide the pain your in in front of your friends. It would be even more embarrassing to see their faces covered in pity over you, when the mood is as good as it is right now. The Fremen had another win and kicked some Harkonnen asses. That’s all that counts right now. 

„I’m a little drained. Go on and have a drink for me, while I’ll be having a good rest“, you said to your best friend Chani, who is giving you a suspicious look but then nodded. 

„You did good today, y/n. And I know for a fact, that Muad’Dib is thinking the same“, she wiggled with her eyebrows, mocking you again. Your eyes darted to the back of the tent, where Paul was sitting with Stilgar. He was already looking at you, not breaking the eye contact once yours met his. Paul was frowning a little, wich made his worried expression even more noticeable. Maybe Stilgar was telling him some bad news or something. You didn’t really care, because all you could think about was the pain that was feeling like needles beneath your skin. 

„I don’t care what he thinks. He fought well. And everything else is not important“, you murmured shrugging your hurting shoulders. Big mistake. Your almost flinched because of the pain that was send trough your body again. 

You quickly waved Chani goodbye and make your way outside the big community room, back to your private stone cabin, that was placed further away. When you finally reached it, a sigh of relief escaped your throat. Carefully you sit down on the bed out of soft fabric and you close your eyes for a second to calm your thoughts. Today was hard and nothing sounds more tempting than getting this suit off and washing the dirt off of your irritated skin. But the thought that you have to move yourself to make that happen, was like your personal nightmare. 

The sound of someone clearing his throat hollowed back from the stonewalls of your room. You quickly turn your head around to catch Paul standing in the doorframe, holding the curtain open. He looks even more worried now than back downstairs. 

„Can I come in?“, he asked. 

You let out a annoyed sigh. „Sure. What is it, Paul?“ 

He makes his way up to you, stopping not even two feet away from the bed you were still sitting on. „Are you alright?“ 

„Obviously. Today was a big win.“ 

He frowned again. „That’s not what I meant.“ 

„Then what are you talking about? Speak up.“ Your tone was annoyed, because the last thing you wanted right now was him seeing you in this pathetic state. 

„You fought like a demon out there. I have never seen someone so … so passionately killing the bad guys. But … I saw you falling down that cliff. For a second I thought you were dead“, he swallowed hard. „I saw you getting hurt. You must be in enormous pain right now.“ 

The fact that he had an eye on you while being on the battlefield, surrounded by enemies, made your chest tightened up. He was really looking out for me? 

You tried to sound unimpressed. „Well, thank you for your concern but I’m perfectly fine as you can see.“ You stood up and wanted to make him leave your room, but the sharp pain came back like a lighting bolt and you tripped over your own feet. Paul had quick reflexes and catching you before you could hit the ground. „I’m fine“, your voice cracks and burning shame blushed your cheeks. 

„No you are not fine, y/n. You need help“, Paul whispered. His arms still wrapped around your waist to hold you up. His eyes right in front of you. So blue you could probably drown in them … although there were little brown spots you never noticed before. 

You swallowed. „I don’t need …“ 

„Oh for fucks sake! Shut up and let me help you“, he demanded. You were so surprised about his little outburst, that you could only nod to give him the permission. 

Paul smiled slightly. „Good. You are so stubborn.“ 

You rolled your eyes on him, not saying anything. He was right, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of you agreeing with him. 

With his help, you turned your back to him. He begins to get rid of the many closures of the suit and with every unbuttoning your face feels even warmer. His direct presence was making you nervous and you were not sure how you feel about that effect he has on you. 

„You need to relax. Otherwise I could hurt you even more“, his voice was low and for a second you thought you heard a light crack in it. Is it possible that you have the same effect on him? 

„It is kinda hard to relax in this … situation“, the words slipped out before you could think about the meaning of them. You bite your tongue as he chuckled softly. 

„And why is that?“, you could feel his warm breath on your neck. It sends goosebumps over your drained body. Before you could give him a sassy answer, his fingertips touched the bare skin on your shoulders, gently pulling down the suit. You could feel his hands on your back while Paul was making sure that you didn’t need to move a muscle to get rid of the Fremen desert suit. Underneath you are wearing an thin layer of fabric, cut in the form of a dress that barely covers your butt. 

„Are you taking advantage of an helpless and wounded woman, Paul Atreides?“, you say with a strangled voice. Still facing the wall. But Paul was so close, that you could feel his chest touching your back. 

Paul gently strokes your hair over one shoulder. His lips almost touching your ear, while he speaks with a breathy voice. „I would never take advantage of you. I know for a fact, that you could kick my ass and slit my throat in no time, even wounded and blinded. But you haven’t done such thing.“ 

He places a soft kiss on the sensitive skin right beneath your ear and your breathing stops. Your whole body reacting to him like a firework. Just because of a litte stupid kiss. What is happening? 

„Did I hurt you?“, he asked as he noticed your reaction. „If you want me to stop, you just have to say one word and I’m …“ 

„You didn’t hurt me“, you interrupted. 

Paul chuckles softly. And you almost hoped, that he would keep on doing where he stopped, but instead you feel how his warm body disappeared from your back. As you peak over your shoulder, he looks at you with deep satisfaction. 

„I’ll see if I can get you something to eat and drink. And then I will send you a healer to make sure you’ll get better in no time.“ 

Your mouth snapped open in disbelief. This jerk just teased you like a champion and now he was looking at you like a little boy, who is more than proud to make fun of you. 

„You’re an asshole, Paul Atreides“, you said smiling. 

He raises his hands defensively. „I’m just making sure not to take advantage of you.“ 

[apinchofm]

🌊okay but i wrote a little thingy where nothing is wrong and paul teaches chani how to swim

[slayingqueenchal]

Interview(ed) | timothee chalamet x y/n

A remake of my first ever fanfic Interview. | Timothee chalamet x Reader (y/n) I'm a bit better at writing, comparing to my past self, this is full of fluff fluff fluffy, and I'm using second person perspective instead of first person perspective,and timmy describes you in french and it's like confessing! But I'll stfu rn, enjoy! (There's an ending to this not like the first one)

"Yes, how are you, y/n, Timothee! I am john" The interviewer said to you and timothee.

"Good good! " Said timothee, and you nodded with him. "Amazing, now, I'm going to ask you questions for both dune part 1&2, is that alright?" John ask and both of you nodded.

"So, timothee, how did you get the role of Paul atreides? " John asks while flipping his card.

"It was like every other auditions, it's a tough one, I was really lucky that I got the role" He explained, his hands were moving as he was speaking.

"Great, what about you, y/n" John asks. "It was my cousin, who made me audition for the role of alia atreides, she was nine, she's a, a really smart person, to the degree that she understood dune" You told John.

"Why haven't you told me this?! This is literally the cutest thing ever, Y/n" Timothee groaned.

John flipped another card. "You can choose to not answer this one, just tell me, but the fans are curious about you twos dating rumours, is that true? " He asks.

"That's fine" Said timothee, you told John "we're very platonic.. Too, platonic, sometimes" With a fake chuckle.

You always had feelings since you first met timothee. It's like, love at first sight.

"Oo, that's cool! Up to the next question! " He flips his card, "Can each of you tell me, who was the most funniest, adorable, relatable, nicest co-star in the whole film, say it at the same time! ".

"Okay.. Timmy, one" You said.

"Two" Timothee said.

"Three! " You said. You pointed at him, saying "you!". But, he had done the same thing to, he said you were the most fun from the whole dune film.

"Aww" John said. You realized that, you were blushing hard.

"Up to the final, special question, many fans have asked this, timothee, can you describe y/n kn french? " John asks.

"elle est belle, ma personne préférée dans le film, peut-être ma personne préférée dans le monde entier" Timothee says with a lot of emotions.

(she's beautiful, my favorite person in the film, maybe my favorite person in the whole world)

"elle est vraiment attentionnée, avec beaucoup de monde et je ne pouvais pas m'empêcher d'être jalouse" Timothee says.

(she's really caring, with a lot of people and I couldn't help but to be jealous)

"Je pense que j'ai des sentiments pour elle, mon amour"

(I think I have feeling for her, love)

"et je sais qu'il y aura un gars ou une fille française qui traduira ça, mais priez Dieu qu'elle ne le sache pas. c'est une belle, géniale, gentille personne et honnêtement je ne la mérite pas du tout mais c'est trop tard maintenant, je suis déjà tombé amoureux d'elle" He says

(and I know there's going to be a French guy or girl who is going to translate this, but, pray to God that she wouldn't know. she's a beautiful, great, nice person and I honestly don't deserve her, at all but it's too late now, I've already fallen for her)

"And I believe that's it, I guess" He says.

"That was great! I personally don't understand but, maybe there will be someone who will explain, well I'm ending soon so, thankyou so much for answering all of the questions! Goodnight and bye! " John says enthusiastically. Not you though, you and timothee looks like a dead zombie answering questions since seven in the morning to ten pm.

"Well, that's all guys, pack your stuff and you can go, goodnight! " Says the producer.

"Alright" You both said.

"Timmy! Goodnight" You said, waving at him. "Night, y/n" Timothee responses.

You walked down to your car in silence with your body guards, and got home safely.

You went upstairs, get cleaned up, and went for a good night sleep.

Everything was alright until a thousand notifications blew up on your phone.

"What the hell" You groaned, taking your phone. Though your eyes were blurry, you can still see.

Everyone one was tagging you all across the media.

"Oh my gosh, I'm French, and if you haven't watched the dune interview with buzzfeed, you're missing out! " The girl says and plays the audio.

'elle est belle, ma personne préférée dans le film, peut-être ma personne préférée dans le monde entier' the blurry audio says

"Timothee is saying how y/n is the best person in the world and later he says that he couldn't help but be jealous of people around her who she's nice with,OH MY GOSH, he says he thinks he has feelings for her, and that he doesn't deserve her but he has already fallen in love. Oh my gosh y'all" Says the girl.

You sat there for a second, trying to process what's going on.

Timothee, liking you back? Sounds like a daydream.

You opened your messages app to found timothee's was filled by apologizes, confession, and him saying sorry for a hundred times.

You wrote 'timmy, you don't need to say sorry, in fact, I love you too'. No, that's corny you changed it up a bit "timmy, you don't need to say sorry, in fact, I have feelings for you too".

You sent it with your eyes closed. Turning off the phone.

"Y/n, I have.. It's like love at first sight and since you've told me this, would you like, go out with me, I know I'm a sucker for asking this in chat but pleasee" The notification rings.

Well, you replied and, guess someone's going on a date.

This was really rushed I'm sorry

[timothee-mybeloved]

Meet me in the afterglow

In which an argument with Timothée makes you realize that you can’t live without each other

Warnings: angst, fighting, reader being hated by fans, hurt/comfort, totally inspired by Afterglow by miss Taylor Swift, happy ending, I’m in love with timothee chalamet. There is a fic i read once that was the primary inspiration for this but i have no idea what it was called or who it was by… (bold italics are flashbacks)

Paring: Timothée Chalamet x reader

You had blown things out of proportion and now you had no idea where your relationship laid. Were you broken up? Did you lose the man you loved with your entire being?

Your heart couldn’t accept it. He wasn’t around for you to have a conversation with him about it.

You were a mess.

Truth be told…so was he.

He couldn’t stay but it wasn’t because he didn’t want you anymore, quite the opposite actually. He left because he loved you. It scared him too much to think about.

He couldn’t handle seeing how much it all consumed you. The paparazzi, the fans, the hate.

All of it had gotten in your head, millions of thoughts rushing around

“Am I not good enough?” “What if he leaves me for someone better?” “How do I keep going?”

He sympathized with you, felt pity for you and a little bit of him felt what you were going through but he knew he could never fully comprehend how you felt everyday simply for loving him.

“You know I wouldn’t mind it if you came with me.” He said “I love coming back from work to find you waiting for me.”

“They’ll probably think I’m too clingy.” God knows what happened the last time you had gone with him while shooting a movie. You had dealt with an excessive amount of hate.

People calling you names, saying that you couldn’t leave him alone for one second. It all hurt but you couldn’t talk about it so you wouldn’t burden him. He’s already had to deal with so much.

“Who cares what they think?” He raised his voice “Are you seriously going to let some stupid comments get in the way of our relationship?” He asked rhetorically.

He was right but you couldn’t help feeling this way and you had bottled up so much, you were starting to feel angry.

“Why can’t you just fucking look at it the same way I do?! I have had to go through so much shit so i can be with you, the least you could fucking do is actually be there for me when I need you!” You finally snapped.

“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing all this time? I’ve done everything I can to make you happy and it still doesn’t work.”

“Maybe you’re not trying hard enough.” You say it under your breath but the sigh he lets out lets you know that he heard you.

“For fuck’s sake…” it’s his turn to be angry. “What do you want me to do then? You want me to go on every form of media and tell them to stop saying shit on the internet because my girlfriend can’t stop letting stuff get into her head?”

“I never said that.”

“Well what the hell do you want me to do?!” You had never seen him this angry before and if you didn’t know him, you would think this anger was directed towards you.

“Just go, Tim. I really can’t talk about this right now.” You sigh.

“No, I’m not gonna leave without you, I’m not letting a bunch of mindless idiots on the internet ruin what we have!”

“Tim-“

“You don’t have a say in this so get up and come with me.”

“Timmy-“

“Just stop! you already have your bags packed so let’s go.”

Silence.

“Please…” He begged you.

“I’m sorry…” He was starting to get impatient.

“Fine. Have it your way.” Was the last thing he said before picking up his bag and slamming your shared apartment’s door.

And that’s when you truly lost it, finally bursting into tears after feeling all these emotions bubbling up throughout the past week.

You didn’t mean to make him sad but he also had to look at things from your perspective.

Now here you were, a few days after the argument, picking up the bags that you hadn’t unpacked ever since.

You grabbed your passport and headed out the door, making sure to lock it before making your way to the elevator.

It was going to be a long flight and you knew it but you would do anything to be with him again.

Finally arriving to your destination, a driver had been waiting for you to take you to the hotel he was staying at.

Your heart was racing and your palms were starting to sweat. You knew he wouldn’t be back until a few hours but you still couldn’t calm your nerves.

What if he didn’t want to see you? That’s ridiculous, he would be happy to fix things and start over…right? The only thing you could do was hold onto what little hope you had left and pray for the best.

—

You sat on the bed and awaited his arrival, having slightly calmed down after walking into the room and catching his scent in the air.

Minutes felt like centuries passing by and you almost got up and tried to leave like you had never been here until you heard shuffling from behind the door.

It was dark and he wouldn’t be able to notice you were there at first glance and so you waited patiently until he had turned on the lights.

He was shocked, dropping the coffee cup he was holding.

“Shit!” He flinched as the liquid spilled on the carpet and his shoes.

“Oh fuck! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you I-“ You got up quickly, making your way over to him and he just stared at you as if trying to figure out if he was too tired and imagining all of this or if you were actually in front of him right now.

He probably sensed your confusion because he cupped your cheeks, a part of him expecting you to fade away in the process.

But you didn’t, he was holding you.

You were real.

“Fuck it feels like forever ago when i last saw you.” He lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding in.

He pulls you in for a kiss and it’s the first time in what felt like an excruciatingly long week that you genuinely feel true relief.

You feel complete.

“God I missed you so much.” He sighs into your lips “I missed you too.” Your hands moved to wrap around the back of his neck.

“I’m so sorry, Tim.”

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize.” He says while caressing your cheek.

“No no i have to, I was so in my head that I didn’t even think about what this was doing to you.”

“I should’ve been there for you, I should’ve talked to you more, it’s my fault.” Timothée tells you.

“None of this is your fault, okay? Just please don’t ever leave me again. Those past few days have been hell without you.”

“I’m never going to leave you, wherever you go, I go.” He whispers, pulling you close so that your foreheads touch.

“I’ll follow you wherever you go, sweet girl.”

[renova-writes]

the way you look tonight

a rainy day in new york inspired work

gatsby wells x reader

word count: 649 (short and sweet)

warnings: no warnings needed

a/n: I was watching a rainy day in new york for the first time tonight after rehearsal and I think this film changed my outlook on many things

masterlist

“Tabbie? Is that you? What’s wrong?” He entered the kitchen where you were cutting vegetables. He didn’t go over to give you a kiss like you were accustomed to, instead he kicked the trash can.

“I don’t know.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s possible I guess.”

“What’s possible? Use your words.”

“That, that I left my wallet on the subway!”

“How- Why would you leave your wallet on the subway?”

“I don’t know! That’s not like me. I don’t forget things!”

“Well you did today Gatsby.”

“Gatsby. God woman, why do you insist on calling me Gatsby?”

“God, why do you call me ‘woman’! For christ's sake Gatsby you left your wallet on the subway. No big deal. Just call, cancel your cards, and get a new one. People lose wallets all the time.”

“Yes but not Gatsby Welles! I don't forget things.”

“For heaven's sake Tabbie, relax! Sit down, have a glass of wine. Let’s go out to Le Corbeau tonight, like we used to. We can sit in one of those leather couches in the back with the cigarette ashes and listen to the piano while we gaze into each other’s eyes. Doesn’t that sound nice.”

His eyebrows lowered down from his face and his cheeks began to glow. Here came the Gatsby humor you were well acquainted with. “But you're forgetting something darling: I don’t have my wallet.”

“You might be a successful businessman, but don’t you forget: I was successful too.”

“Oh, how could I forget? With a voice like that? Darling you were an angel. Listening to you sing was like seeing light for the first time. I fell in love before I even spoke a word to you.” He moved in to engulf you in his arms, pulling you in from behind.

“You tell me this every day.”

“And good for you to remember it. I don’t deserve you my love. I could live a thousand lives and never come close to your purity.”

“My love you need look only in the mirror.”

“You flatter me.”

“You flatter yourself.”

“I know you didn’t mean that my bird.”

“If I am a bird then your arms are my cage and yet I sit content within.”

“I have a better idea. Why don’t we take a walk in the park? The city is so beautiful in the rain.”

“So long as we can stop underneath the clock tower and dance to its song.” You pressed your lips gently onto his.

“Will you sing for me?”

You sat down at the piano in the great room. You stretched your fingers before letting them dance over the keys.

Someday, when I'm awfully low, When the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you, And the way you look tonight

Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm, And your cheeks so soft, There is nothing for me but to love you, And the way you look tonight

With each word your tenderness grows, Tearin' my fear apart, And that laugh wrinkles your nose, Touches my foolish heart

Lovely, never, never change, Keep that breathless charm, Won't you please arrange it?, 'Cause I love you, A-just the way you look tonight

And that laugh that wrinkles your nose, It touches my foolish heart

Lovely, don't you ever change, Keep that breathless charm, Won't you please arrange it?, 'Cause I love you, A-just the way you look tonight

Mm-mm, mm-mm, Just the way you look tonight

Gatsby had joined you at the piano bench while you played. He said nothing during the course of your performance but at its close, he lifted your hand from its ending note and brought it to his lips. “Darling, oh my darling, it’s you who looks beautiful.”