#Leto Atreides x oc

[catlordewrites]

Galatea - Chapter One

Masterlist - Ao3

Summary: A cheap Arrakeen prostitute, chained to the city brothel by an unfair contract and desperate for freedom, is offered the chance of a lifetime.

A/N: Basically unedited. Not my best work. Tryna get out of a writing slump so you get what you get

Chapter Warnings: smut, a smidge of knife play, prostitution, mentions of rape, depression, anxiety

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ ONLY

This part, Galatea was all too familiar with.

The groundcar waiting for her outside the brothel was nondescript. Grey metal and dark windows. The man that opened the door for her wore a black work uniform stripped of insignia. She knew the type. Spine rimrod straight. Eyes front. Trying just a little too hard not to seem like he was ogling the beautiful woman scantily dressed in fine silk.

Galatea shot him a wink. He blushed.

From there, though, things got a bit more complicated.

She slid gracefully onto the fine leather seats, trying not to think about how desperately she wanted tonight to succeed.

Chances of everything happening the way they needed to were exceedingly slim. She knew better than to get her hopes up. She wasn’t a dreamer, but she had been, once. Despite all she’d been through, it was a habit that just wouldn’t die.

Arrakeen was a city of many pains. And many pleasures. The House of Priapos was the largest purveyor of both. Women—and men—for all social classes. The brothel itself took up a city block, with the Trulls crammed into tiny stalls at the bottom, separated from the street by only threadbare curtains; while the wealthy enjoyed High Courtesans tucked away in luxurious penthouses that made up the highest floors.

Galatea operated somewhere in the middle.

Trapped by an unfair contract that she had signed years ago when she had been young and desperate, she could be dressed up as a courtesan, or down as a street whore, and had no room to argue either way.

Tonight, though, was unprecedented.

Galatea was to entertain the Duke of Caladan and Arrakis.

Although her hourly rate was much higher than the average Arrakeen man could afford, compared to the usual girls enjoyed by Imperium Nobility, she was trashy, at best.

It was a fluke, really.

Zoie, a High Courtesan who happened to be Galatea’s close friend, had recently taken the Atreides Warmaster as a client. He had been pleased with her, and after a few sessions, mentioned that the Duke was in need of a new lover, and asked if she had any recommendations.

Zoie owed Galatea quite a lot, and a recommendation whispered in the right ear went a long way.

The Arrakeen Palace was massive. For all the years she’d lived in Arrakis, it had been a looming mountain above the city, little more than an extension of the Shield Wall’s craggy peaks.

Galatea had certainly never been inside, but she knew a few women that had. She shifted nervously in her seat as the groundcar passed though the first security checkpoint at the outer gate, wondering at how they’d never thought to mention that the outer walls were at least fifteen feet thick. Or that armed guards bristled at every corner.

The groundcar skirted the main entrance and rolled to a stop at a smaller door just off of the courtyard, where a female guard waited. After scanning her for concealed weapons, the guard led the way inside.

She was guided on a long, winding route. Down cavernous corridors and up quite a few stairs. They encountered no one. It was planned, certainly. They were hardly going to advertise when a whore was being brought in for the Duke to fuck.

The guard’s footsteps echoed smartly through the silence, while Galatea’s delicate sandals whispered in afterthought. For a few long moments, Galatea could almost believe that they were the only souls in the entire palace. The utilitarian minimalism of the place did nothing to lessen the effect—the sandstone walls were smooth and bare. Like some suspiciously clean tomb lost deep in the desert.

The illusion was shattered when they rounded a final corner and were faced by two more guards. After being checked for weapons a second time. Her escort led her past them and down a hall that looked a bit more lived in. Still spotless, but a few paintings adorned the walls and a long crimson rug ran the length of the floor.

The guard stopped at a fairly nondescript door and turned to face her.

“The groundcar will be waiting for you at dawn,” she explained, her voice as clipped and measured as her gait. “You will be escorted out of the building. Do not wander. If you need to leave early, tell the guards. They will call for the groundcar. Do you understand?”

Galatea saw it now—the disgust hidden behind the guard’s professional mask. It wasn’t the sort of thing that she usually let faze her. People were disgusted by whores until they wanted to use one. But she was already feeling a bit out of her depth, and the blatant distaste turned the whispers in the back of Galatea’s mind into wailing sirens.

There’s a reason they use highborn ladies for this, she thought bitterly as the guard left her alone in the hall. Cheap is cheap and trash is trash.

But then the logic of Zoie—who was decidedly not cheap—rose out of the mix, accompanied by the trademark shrug of her lovely shoulders.

Who the fuck cares? A cock is a cock. Milk him and move on.

Galatea couldn’t argue with that. She lifted her hand and knocked.

The answering voice was low and soft. “Come in.”

The door opened smoothly on well oiled hinges, and Galatea was treated to the view of the room beyond.

The Duke’s suite was large and spacious, framed on one side by shelves laden with books and strange trinkets from his homeworld, and by the thin slip of a very wide but short window that was a standard Arrakis style on the other. The bed was tucked away at the far side of the room—large and neatly made underneath a beautiful bronze mural of a curling sandworm. A few steps from the bed was a doorway—presumably a bathroom—and a short distance from that, the closet. The room also sported a small breakfast table, a chaise lounge with matching chairs, and a writing desk.

The Duke himself sat at the desk, hunched over a stack of papers with a pen in hand. Galatea’s breath hitched in her throat—half from admiration, half from nerves.

Duke Leto Atreides was an extremely handsome man. Olive skin turned golden by the Arrakis sun and heightened under the warm glow of the glowglobes. He had a sharp, angular face softened by curly black hair and a beard to match, both shot through with elegant streaks of silver. Thick, heavy eyebrows sat above the eyes of a poet, pulling his expression into one of constant brooding.

There was no point in trying to pretend that she didn’t find him attractive. Doing nothing to hide the way her eyes flitted appreciatively around his body, Galatea dipped into a polite curtsy and flashed him her most winning smile.

“My Lord.”

He gave her the barest glance, then went back to writing.

“I’ll be with you in a minute. Make yourself comfortable.”

The disinterest gave her pause.

Galatea was not the first woman that had been hired for this job. Although the Courtesans that had come before her had been sworn into silence, Zoie was persistent. Through her usual persuasion tactics and ability to root out gossip from the most stubborn sources, the beautiful Courtesan was able to garner that, out of six High Courtesans, the Duke had sent them all away.

And if they hadn’t been able to please the Duke, what hope did Galatea have?

Well, he hasn’t dismissed me yet.

She turned to one of the bookshelves. Galatea ran her fingers down a few of the leather bound spines and read the titles. Paper books were incredibly rare on Arrakis. There were no trees; wood and paper had to be imported. She had a digital tablet, though. Reading was one of the few hobbies she could afford. There wasn’t much else to do to fill the time between clients, anyhow.

The Duke heaved a sigh. Out of the corner of her eye, Galatea watched him set aside his papers and stare off into space. He drummed his fingers on the desk. Lost in thought.

The decision was made. He stood. Strode purposefully around the desk.

“Alright. Come here.”

The command in his tone made Galatea shiver with anticipation. As much as she hated the brothel, the contract, the lack of choice, her masters—this part, especially when she liked the look of the client, could be a lot of fun.

She met him in the middle. The Duke’s arms wrapped around her, dragged her body against his, left no room for argument. Then his mouth was on hers. Hard. Demanding. Tongues and teeth. No preamble. Absolutely filthy.

Fuck, he was a good kisser. Of course he was. A man as beautiful as he was didn’t skate through life without getting a lot of practice.

Galatea’s knees went weak, and she grabbed onto his shoulders to keep upright. The Duke didn’t seem to notice, and instead used her loss of balance to steer her towards the chaise lounge.

Once he had her underneath him, he wasted no time in pulling the straps of her dress down her shoulders, loosening the silk enough to free her breasts. Then that wonderful mouth was on her neck. She gasped as his beard scraped along her collarbone. Eager to match his intensity, Galatea slipped a hand between their bodies to rub his cock through his trousers. She could feel the outline of him through the thick fabric—still soft, but of pleasing size.

Galatea hummed appreciatively. The Duke paused, his breath ghosting past her ear. She threaded her free hand through his hair and pulled him back in for another kiss.

He reciprocated, but something had shifted.

The Duke tolerated a few more moments of her touch, then he heaved a sigh and pulled away. Galatea was left draped on the lounge, tits out and baffled as he returned to his desk.

“Thank you for coming here tonight,” he said, settling back down in his chair and shuffling papers as he returned to his work. “You may go.”

Shocked, Galatea sat up and fixed her clothes. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Cheap whore or not, she knew she was attractive. It was usually the lead up when a client lost interest—when the knowledge of her unfashionable price and breeding was at the forefront. But once a man got his hands on her, he always followed through.

“My Lord… forgive me, but … have I done something wrong?”

He didn’t look at her. “No. You will be paid in full.”

Galatea could have cried. It wasn’t about the money. She saw so little of the money she made for the brothel that it didn’t have much meaning for her anymore, beyond the fact that she was cheap—which her handlers reminded her of at every opportunity. But the Duke was in need of a lover. Leto the Just, they called him. A good and fair man, one that had the authority and money to pay off her contract with the brothel and set her free, if he liked her enough. If he liked her more than enough, he might even bring her into his House. He could make her a concubine. And finally, after so many years, she could have the quiet, stable life that she’d always wanted.

No more beatings. No more scrounging. No more pleasuring the questionable men that the courtesans above her didn’t want. No more falling asleep to moans and screams. No more knowing that there were women several floors below her getting raped and being able to do nothing about it.

She could be free.

It was a pipe dream. She knew that. But having the hope crushed before it could even fully take root was devastating.

From the despair came indignation, and from that came anger. Anger always made her reckless.

She returned to the bookshelf. Figuring that the Duke wouldn’t leave sensitive information just out on a shelf, Galatea decided it was safe to help herself to one that sounded interesting.

This was an opportunity. Good things never happened to Galatea. She had hours left until the brothel expected her back, so she might as well make the most of the Duke’s luxuries.

And if he really wanted her to leave, he could make her.

Galatea settled down on the chaise lounge with her book and began to read.

It was the Duke’s turn to be shocked. He stared at her, heavy eyebrows low with a frown. “What are you doing?”

Galatea shrugged. “You’ve paid for my time already. How we spend it is entirely up to you. And if what you want is something pretty to brighten the room while you work, then that’s fine by me.”

The Duke blinked at that for a few moments. Utterly perplexed. Galatea wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

“… As you please.”

They stayed like that for a while. The silence was soothing, full of nothing more than the occasional shuffle of papers and soft breaths. The world within the Arrakeen Palace was so far from the one she knew in the city—too far above for the bustle and chatter of people, groundcars, and animals to reach. Isolated. Alone in a bubble. Close enough to see the lights but too far away to touch.

Galatea wondered if the Duke was lonely.

She wasn’t really sure of the details. Zoie tended to not make a ton of sense when she was excited. Galatea mulled over what had gathered from the younger woman’s babbling.

The Duke’s concubine—his partner of fifteen years and the mother of his only son—had left him. She, along with their son, had gone into the desert to join the Fremen. The rest was speculation, but there seemed to be a consensus that the son, at least, had gone with the Duke’s blessing. The Fremen had been the reason that House Atreides managed to survive those harrowing first few months of their hold on Arrakis.

Galatea shivered at the memory. She remembered the night well. The sounds of roaring engines and lasguns had made the city tremble. Fire had lit the sky as ships rained down over the Shield Wall. The attack had been massive. The kind that no one was meant to survive.

But the Fremen had come out of the desert—Galatea wouldn’t pretend to understand why—and when dawn came, House Atreides still stood.

Loaning his heir out to learn the ways of the Fremen seemed a small price to pay for an alliance.

But it didn’t explain why Lady Jessica had gone as well.

Eventually, Galatea felt the Duke’s eyes on her again. She thought that he was searching for something to say, so she read aloud:

“Discovery is dangerous…but so is life. A man unwilling to take risks is doomed never to learn, never to grow, never to live.”

The Duke nodded. “That’s Pardot Kynes, the former planetologist. Dr. Liet Kynes gifted me a copy of some of her father’s writings.”

“I’ve heard of him, I think. He was supposed to be a very brilliant man.”

“It seems that way, yes.” The Duke leaned back in his chair, a bitter smile twisting at his lips. “Though sometimes I wonder if his experience was incomplete.”

“How do you mean, my Lord?”

“Perhaps one type of danger helps a man to grow. The experience makes him more of a leader. While others do the opposite. Less of a leader… less of a man.”

She tilted her head. Considered him. The faraway look. The grim smile. Tension pulled at his shoulders and exhaustion at his spine. The way he’d clutched at her reminded her of a man taking medicine—the action of doing something despite not really wanting to because it would make him feel better.

Less of a leader… less of a man.

Ah.

That was something she could work with.

The realization gave her direction, and direction gave her confidence. Galatea stood and crossed over to the desk. The Duke tilted his chin to look up at her, holding her gaze as her knees brushed his when she hopped up to sit on the desk.

Galatea cocked her head to the side as she considered him. She’d had this conversation before. Great care was needed. Proud men had the tendency to lash out, and the Duke of Caladan and Arrakis was certainly a proud man.

But at the same time, this was a man that had committed to one woman for over fifteen years. That, especially among Landsraad nobility, was extremely rare. He hadn’t been able to marry his concubine, but had also refused to marry anyone else. Unheard of.

What sort of a man was Leto Atreides?

Galatea was good at reading people. Getting a snap impression of someone, and then being able to act on it, was one of the most important skills a whore could have. Besides sucking cocks, of course, but that was a given.

Fifteen years. A son. Now he was alone. Responsible for far too many things, all of which seemed to be within a hair's breadth of falling apart. Under a great deal of stress.

This was the sort of man that wanted someone else to take control. Be taken care of. Just for a while. Being bossed around for a bit would definitely do him good.

“Leto,” Galatea began, making careful use of his first name, “when’s the last time you slept?”

Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it. Leto huffed a laugh. “My duties don’t exactly lend to a regular sleep schedule.”

“So in other words, you’ve been living on anti-fatigue pills?”

He shrugged.

“Leto.” He hadn’t corrected her for using his name, and she took it as a signal that she was allowed to keep doing so. She rolled her eyes and gave a disappointed shake of her head.

The Duke watched her, somehow much more interested than he had been when he’d had his mouth on her tits. She couldn’t be offended, though. The intensity of his undivided attention was far too distracting.

Galatea slipped off her sandals and rested her bare feet on his thighs. Rested her elbows on her knees and her hand on one hand. The action forced him to lean back in his seat, his legs nudged apart by the weight of her.

Leto arched an eyebrow. The look on his face was one Galatea had seen many times—the one that said, I’m in complete control of this situation, and I’m letting you do this because I think it’s amusing.

Galatea tipped her head to indicate his crotch. “And you don’t suspect a connection between the two?”

To his credit, he handled the entirely unsubtle reference to his manhood with more dignity than most refined men Galatea knew. A slight widening of the eyes. The subtle reddening of the ears.

She suppressed a smile.

“I… uh…” He cleared his throat. “I was assured that anti-fatigue pills have no…er… side effects…”

“Oh, Leto honey.” Galatea pressed her hand to his cheek. “Beautiful boy. I’m a whore. You can speak plainly about your cock with me. God knows I handle enough of them.”

Turns out, the direct approach yielded delightful results. Leto sputtered and tried to cover it with a cough. He didn’t really want to look her in the eye, so he lowered his gaze. After a moment, it occurred to him that he was looking at her breasts. His eyes shot back up to her face, then drifted off to the side. His blush deepened, creeping down his neck.

Fuck, he was pretty.

“I…uh… wouldn’t want to burden you.” He gave a nervous chuckle. “That’s not exactly something you talk about with a potential lover.”

“On the contrary, who better to ask? These things happen—it’s normal—and most everyone tries to solve it the same way you did.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” He still wouldn’t look her in the eye, but the blush was fading. Galatea vowed to bring it back as soon as possible. “So it’s the pills?”

“Not exactly, but they certainly don’t help. How much sleep have you gotten in, say…the last two weeks?”

“I don’t know. Twelve? Maybe less.”

Galatea felt a wave of pity. No wonder the poor thing was having problems.

“Consider the mind and the body.” She held out both hands symbolically. “They work together, but they’re separate entities. The mind tells the body what to do, and the body does it. The heart needs to beat. Walk from your desk to the bookshelf. Move your hands to write a letter. But the body has opinions too. It tells the mind what it needs. I’m hungry. This hurts. I’m tired. I need to rest.”

She looked at him pointedly.

“I’m with you so far.”

“Good. So your body is telling the mind that it’s tired. You start yawning. Your brain gets fuzzy. You can’t keep your eyes open. But you’re a busy man. You have Duke things to do. So you take one of those helpful little pills, and you can keep going. But the pill isn’t making your body less tired, it’s just shutting up all the usual ways it lets you know that it needs a break. And that’s fine… for a while. But the longer you go without doing the things your body needs, the more desperate it gets. You aren’t listening to the usual signals, so it starts finding other ways to get your attention.”

Galatea gestured to his crotch again. “This is a very common one for men. Auditory hallucinations usually come next.”

Leto let out a breath. He wasn’t as shy now, which was a shame, but Galatea appreciated the glint of relief in his eyes. A small smile quirked at his lips.

“So what would you recommend, nurse?”

“It’s doctor, actually. Dr Whore. And for the long term, I prescribe sleep. No anti-fatigue pills for at least two weeks, unless absolutely necessary.”

He huffed, but was actually smiling now. “That’s a big ask, you know.”

“Make that three weeks, then. Also,” she took his chin between her index finger and thumb, “stop worrying about it. Your cock is fine. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. These things happen a lot more often than you think. And worrying makes it worse.”

“Alright, I get it.” He turned his face into her hand. His lips brushed her thumb. “And what about the short term, Dr Whore?”

“A massage, definitely,” was her immediate response. “While you were having a grope earlier, I felt your back. It’s all tied up in knots. A massage, and then a good night's sleep.” She paused, picked at a lock of his curly hair. It was still a little mussed from when she’d run her fingers through it, and now it was obvious how oily it was. “Scratch that. A bath. A nice warm bath. Massage. Then sleep. Lucky you, I’m good at all of those things. Bathroom’s through there, yeah?”

“A bath? On Arrakis? Isn’t that wasteful?” Leto protested as she slid off the desk and made her way towards the bathroom without waiting for an answer.

The bathroom, as the rest of Leto’s residence, was both spartan and beautiful. Decent sized, with a large tub taking up the center, a separate shower, toilet, and sink with a vanity all rounding the walls with accompanying shelves.

“How can it be wasteful?” Galatea countered, turning on the water. “You have a water reclamation system, right?”

Leto trailed into the room after her, looking a little lost. “Of course.”

“And filters in the cooling systems to collect the steam in the air?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But nothing. You’re the Duke. You deserve a nice bath from time to time. Call it a prerogative.” Satisfied with the water temperature, she straightened up and faced him, hands on her hips. “Now strip. I’m going to see if you have anything here we can actually use.”

With that, she started rummaging through his cabinets. Leto was a practical man, not prone to collecting frivolous things. But at his station, being well groomed was a necessity. Shampoo. Conditioner. Soap. Body wash. Beard oil. Lotion. All decent smelling. But next time… if there was a next time… she would bring some nicer things for him to use.

Galatea gathered up her finds and turned to see that Leto had done as she asked. He leaned over the edge of the tub, deliciously bare as he swished his hand through the water, brow furrowed in thought.

Heat pooled in her stomach. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for her to find clients attractive. But fuck, this just wasn’t fair.

Smooth golden skin stretched over an athletic build. Leto was sculpted as a statue—a beautiful amalgamation of well-toned muscles and soft flesh. A handful of scars smattered his upper body, and Galatea longed to trace them. Those, and the lovely curve of his arse.

Leto glanced up and saw her looking. His pensive expression turned smug.

Galatea laughed quietly and gave his face a light shove, telling him to hurry up and get in the bath. Leto did as he was told, a sigh of relief escaping him as he sank into the water.

“A Duke’s prerogative, you said?”

Galatea set down her things and stripped to the waist. “Prerogative. Absolutely.” She turned off the water and settled on her knees behind his head. “You work too hard. You deserve some things that make you feel good.”

Leto didn’t respond, just hummed absently as she added soap to the water and wet a fluffy washcloth. With it, she began to clean his chest and neck. His skin was hot under her hand, and she thought about what it would feel like to explore the same area with her mouth.

He sighed blissfully at her touch. Galatea imagined that it wouldn’t take much to make him moan.

Perhaps it was these thoughts that set the stage for her next one, or maybe she was riding the high of having made it farther than the other women that the brothel had sent before her. Either way, when she spotted the knife laying carelessly among Leto’s discarded clothing, Galatea got a very, very bad idea.

And GOD, it was such a bad idea. The kind where she wasn’t sure if it was so bad that it was good, or so good it was bad. The kind that, if it didn’t work, could absolutely get her killed. Hell, it might get her killed even if it did work. Fuck. No. It wasn’t worth the risk.

But as she continued to wash the Duke, her hands slowly dipping lower and lower down his abdomen, the idea niggled in the back of her mind.

Galatea knew that she had already set herself apart from the other whores the Duke had hired. No one else had made it past his dismissal. She should be satisfied with that. She should be thrilled by that.

But what about when the Duke’s problem passed? He wouldn’t need Galatea’s brusque attitude and world wisdom anymore. There were far more beautiful women for him to choose from that would be able to more than keep him satisfied.

The terrible idea took root.

Risk had gotten her this far. It seemed only fitting to let it take her all the way.

“Wet your hair for me, beautiful boy,” Galatea murmured in his ear.

Leto hummed acknowledgement and, while his head slipped down beneath the water, Galatea picked up the knife and tucked it safely in the waistband of her skirt.

Outwardly, Galatea calmly squirted shampoo into her hands. Inwardly, her heart hammered so wildly that she thought it might be trying to escape the rest of her body before it was too late.

Her fingers threaded through Leto’s hair. She worked the shampoo into a fine froth and used her nails to trace circles into his scalp. A head massage was one of the things that almost every man adored but never knew to ask for. She took her time with it. Although she was getting impatient, there was no need to rush.

Leto went boneless. His head lolled obediently with her touch. When she tilted his head back against her bare chest, he went willingly. One of her hands ghosted up his throat and scratched along his jaw, adding a little shampoo to his beard.

Galatea took her time rinsing him, too. She had him lean forward while she poured water from a pitcher over his head, careful not to get any into his eyes.

“Conditioner now,” Galatea told him. “Same idea.”

Leto leaned back against her and closed his eyes, so trusting and content.

Galatea reached down and, instead of the conditioner, picked up the knife. Before she could see reason and talk herself out of it, she had it against Leto’s throat.

The Duke inhaled sharply. His eyes snapped open, wide with shock. All of the relaxation she’d coaxed into him dissipated.

“What is this?” He demanded, his voice tight with anger. She thought of him as a coiled spring, ready to launch into motion. Ready to fight. But Galatea was in control. He was at her mercy. So he stayed perfectly still. Waiting for her to make a move.

Somehow, Galatea was able to hide how affected she was—practically trembling with arousal, fear, and adrenaline. Her free hand drifted down his body and wrapped around his pretty cock.

Leto gasped. This time, his body responded to her beautifully.

“Your body is trying to tell you something, Leto,” she whispered against his ear. “What’s it saying?”

She pumped him slowly. A low groan rumbled in his chest. His head pressed back against her sternum as he started to pant.

Galatea watched his face carefully. Checking for any sign of genuine distress. He was smart. By now, he understood what she was doing. The alarm was gone, but he remained guarded. His lovely poet eyes flickered from her face to where her hand worked between his legs.

He had to know by now that he wasn’t in any danger. What kind of assassin jerked off her victim first?

Leto shuddered against her as she increased her pace. With the blade still pressed tightly against his throat, he fought to keep still. The wariness gave way to pleasure. His eyes fluttered closed, and the quiet of the bathroom was filled with his quiet moans.

Desperate to hold something, but knowing better than to grab at her arms—as both hands were very busy—Leto clutched the edges of the tub so hard that his fingers turned white.

“My beautiful boy,” Galatea murmured, her lips touching his ear. “You needed this, didn’t you? You’re doing so well. Let go. I’ve got you.”

He didn’t last very long, but then, she hadn’t wanted him to. Leto’s body arched in the water. He gasped and cursed and shuddered. Galatea held him through it, whispering soft encouragement and praises until he slumped back against her, utterly spent.

Galatea lay the knife to the side, dizzy with relief and her own daring. She took Leto’s head in her hands, brushing his wet curls from his face and checking his neck.

To her horror, a single pearl of blood welled from a small cut across his throat. It was hardly more than a shaving cut, but it filled her with terror.

She had held a Duke at knifepoint. She’d made him bleed.

Galatea pressed her thumb against it, willing it to disappear. Leto winced slightly and opened one eye.

“I didn’t actually mean to cut you,” Galatea said weakly. “I’m sorry.”

Leto closed his eyes again and nuzzled against her arm.

“S’fine,” he mumbled. Adrenaline had given his system the kickstart that it needed, but it was fading fast. “Worth it.”

Relieved, Galatea kissed the top of his head. Then she went to work finishing his bath—applying and rinsing conditioner, washing his face, applying beard oil. She did it fairly quickly, knowing that the endorphins, combined with his exhaustion, were calling him to sleep. Galatea was stronger than she looked, but she couldn’t carry him to bed. Leaving him to sleep in the tub wasn’t exactly an option either.

When she guided him up to his feet, he went willingly. Leto stood while she dried him with a towel, meek and obedient as a child. By the time she grabbed the lotion she’d found and steered him out of the bathroom, Galatea thought he seemed half asleep already.

She pulled back the sheets of his bed. “Lay down on your stomach, beautiful boy. There you go.”

Leto all but sagged into bed. He buried his face into his pillow with a relieved sigh. Galatea joined him, kneeling by his hips and lathering her hands with lotion.

Within minutes, he was asleep. Galatea spent a good hour working out the knots in his back. She kneaded and pressed the tension in his tired muscles until they were jelly. Then she did the same to his legs, his feet, his buttocks.

He looked so good like this. If Galatea knew how to paint, she would have gladly spent the rest of the night capturing this image. Truely, it belonged with the ancient Renaissance artworks she’d seen in her holobooks. Exposed, vulnerable, beautiful.

When she was done, Galatea pulled the blankets over him. There was some time left before dawn, but she didn’t dare sleep. Instead, she fetched another book from the shelf and settled down on top of the covers beside the sleeping Duke.

She wiled away the hours, soothed by Leto’s soft snores and the silence of the Palace. She could get used to this. She begged every god in existence to let her get used to this.

Dawn came too soon. Galatea returned her books to their respective spots on the shelves. She had a few of the brothel’s business cards in her small clutch, one of which she retrieved along with her lipstick.

Galatea applied a fresh coat to her lips, then pressed them to the card. The shape of her kiss transferred perfectly just below the House of Priapos inscription. Below that, Galatea wrote her name in an elegant, looping hand.

She left the card on his desk and left, hoping that she would be seeing this place again very soon.

#duke leto atreides x reader #duke leto x reader #duke leto fanfiction #duke leto atreides #duke leto atreides x oc #dune fanfiction #oc #fanfiction #my art #fanfic #duke leto x oc #leto atreides x oc #leto atreides x reader

[so-far-frogs-and-oscar]

I'm on my period and have a lot of work for my master's thesis. Where are Leto Atreides x reader fanfics when I need them

#fanfics #people of tumblr #leto atreides #Oscar isaac #leto atreides x reader #leto atreides x oc #fluff #smut #we don't do angst here #maybe with happy ending #dune

[skulkflower]

Rating: Explicit Ships: Feyd-Rautha x Eurydice Atreides (Original), Jessica x Leto Atreides, Paul Atreides x Chani Keynes Summary:

Eurydice Atreides’ first act of defiance took form as a direct challenge to her own mother. In defying her mother, Eurydice has secured the wills and desires of the Bene Gesserit; to be a key component in the rise of the Kwisatz Haderach. Not everything is as it seems. Eurydice stands at the center of a catastrophe that threatens to bring ruin to the delicate nature of the Imperium. There is her duty to her blood, to her twin brother Paul, and then there is her duty to the Bene Gesserit, and the nephew of a Baron she is sworn to. And all that resides in between, there are plans within plans.

AO3 LINK. updated weekly.

#dune fic #dune fanfic #feyd-rautha x original female character #feyd-rautha x oc #feyd rautha #my fics #feyd rautha fanfic #paul atreides #leto atreides #lady jessica

[jaskieriswitchersexual]

Dune fanfic prompt

Idea: That scene where Leto and Stilgar meet for the first time, when Leto acknowledges the Fremen's suffering under the Harkonnen and asks what Stilgar wants as recompense, but in addition to "don't seek out our sietches, don't hunt our people, leave the sandworms alone" he also demands Paul's hand in marriage. Alliance by marriage is something these noble outsider families do, so he figures this is something that will mean more to the Duke than a verbal promise. The betrothal can be to the Fremen of your choosing, Chani, Stilgar, an OC.

#dune movie #dune part 1 #dune part one #duke leto atreides #paul atreides #stilgar #Fremen #dune fanfiction #dune fic #arranged marriage #Betrothal #dune #fic prompt #fic idea #chani kynes #paul x chani #Paul x Stilgar #Paul atreides x OC

[lixzey]

choices

in which servant serena idaho gets roped into being a possible bride for the duke paul atreides to even out the number of candidates.

paul atreides x oc!idaho

@helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @tchalamss @ashlynnmalfoy @crazycat-ladys-blog @michakune @mxltifxnd0m @spencerr3idd @dangelnleif @sthkate @ferrjulie @imnotoverlyobsessive @mel-vaz @elsagreeer @lovely-maryj @meowmeowmau @bobthe-turmpetman29 @saintcosette @ashisabitgay @ladyladybuggg @nyrasunderwrld @lizzxoxoxo @remussbitch @jadahxx @starrystormwritings @ell0ra-br3kk3r @dreary-salem @drewsandsebastianswife @greenapplegrass @lilianelena39 @danni-phant0m @haybellewrites @cloudlst @si4a @ev3ningrain @ttulipwritezz @lilmaymayy @bullets-from-another-dimension @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @reg-arcturus-black @abruuinlove @marina468 @3stelar @timhalamet @st4rf00k3r @idli-dosa @jimins15thhair @blacksgarden

#paul atreides #paul atreides x oc #paul atreides x original character #paul x oc #duke paul atreides #dune movie #oc #house atreides #lady jessica #leto atreides #duncan idaho #dune #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothée chalamet x oc #timothee chalamet x oc #timothée x oc #timothee x oc #timothée chalamet fanfiction #timothée fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #my work #my ocs <3 #dune 2021 #paul atreides x female original character #timothee fanfic #timmy tim

[of-house-atreides]

Under the Veil | Epilogue

Series Summary: Duke Leto Atreides had a woman he loved and an heir he was proud of. The reason why he never married the mother of his son was a political one, the very same reason why he was marrying a girl half his age he had never met.

A/N: sorry this took so long, I hope you'll like it! Please do leave feedback, and reblog!

Words: 1634

Masterlist | series masterlist

The light breeze carried the briny smell of the sea as the sun shied away behind the heavy grey clouds. Sierra was lying on the soft blanket they had stretched on the grass, her head resting in Jessica’s lap as she gently caressed her hair. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the weak rays of sunshine filtering through the thick clouds and Leto moved up slightly from where he was sitting, protecting his wife from the sun, taking her hand and bringing it to his mouth to place a kiss on her fingertips. She smiled at him, the joy on her face and the love in her eyes warmed his heart like a gentle flame burning brighter than the sun behind his back. A sudden grimace appeared on her face and came to ruin the peaceful mood and bring worry to Leto’s mind. But she quickly gave him a reassuring smile as she took his hand and brought it to her round belly. The corner of his lips twitched as he felt his child kick against his palm. It never ceased to amaze him.

“She’s grown and healthy,” Jessica said as her fingers brushed either side of Sierra’s jaw as she leaned over.

“I know,” Sierra smiled, sliding a hand in Jessica’s hair and pulling her for a kiss.

Jessica’s lips always tasted sweet, which was always odd. Sierra thought she looked salty. A strong powerful taste that made you thirsty for more. But Jessica tasted like berries, and smelled of flowers. But not the candy like. She was bitter. In a good way. In the best way.

“She won’t be long now,” Jessica added as she brushed her nose against Sierra’s.

“You keep saying that,” Sierra complained. “And she’s still not here.”

“Patience, my love,” Leto said as he moved his hand on his wife’s belly, caressing the soft fabric of her dress. “She’ll be here soon enough.”

***

Sierra had taken the habits of wandering around the castle as much as she could. It was the first thing she did after breakfast and the last thing she did before bed. The windy hills offered her a breath of fresh air she longed for and made her feel like home. She had gotten used to the cold beach and the humid sand, learning to appreciate the salty smell of the sea and the cries of the seagulls.

It had been a hard conversation for Leto to start when they came near her due date and he had wanted her to stop leaving the comfort of the castle so much. He worried she’d start her labor in the middle of the deserted hills, with only Edward there to help her. So they had to compromise, and now Nesta and Caro followed her wherever she went. She hated to be such a hindrance to her housekeeper and healer, but she would have hated being confined to her quarters even more. What she didn’t hate, however, was the constant presence of either Jessica, or Leto, or both.

On that night, after having had a pleasant dinner with them, with Paul and Sisi, she had gone to bed with a relieved sigh of exhaustion. Everything hurt. From head to toe. And yes, perhaps the usual baths she shared with her husband and concubine helped, but it never chased the pain away entirely. And although she fell asleep relaxed on most nights, on that night, her headache and sore feet felt a bit more painful, and she knew she would wake up before daybreak.

A couple of hours past midnight, Sierra was awakened to a wet bed. Leto was fast asleep to her right, Jessica to her left, and an uncontrollable whine of pain came out of her mouth to break the silence of the night and wake the two people she loved most in her life.

Leto blinked as she did her best to sit up, propping herself up with her elbows, biting her lower lip, trying to conceal another cry of pain.

“Sierra?” his tired puzzled voice only a whisper from his lips.

“Leto,” she called, the tone of her voice leaving no place for doubt. He had to wake up. He had to wake up now.

Sierra felt movement from the left side of the bed and light came to chase the night away and reveal the wet sheets under her.

“It’s time,” Jessica said as she nodded to Leto, reminding him of what he had to do.

He jumped off the bed and hurried to the door where he found Edward and his colleagues to whom he gave the orders to start the protocol they had agreed upon months before.

“It hurts,” Sierra sobbed as she tried to take deep breaths.

“I know love, but you’ll be alright, I promise.”

Jessica moved to leave the bed but Sierra seized her wrists and begged with her eyes.

“Please don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetling,” Jessica said as she leaned to press a kiss on Sierra’s temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She pulled the sheets away from Sierra as Leto rejoined them and went straight to his wife and helped her sit upright. She clung to him as she knew he would let her go to allow Caro and the midwives to do their job. She looked up at her husband, with fear in her eyes. He gave her a reassuring smile as he leaned towards her and pressed his forehead against hers.

“I will be with you, always,” he whispered.

They remained in each other’s arms for as long as they could, until Caro entered the room and loudly ordered the Duke of Caladan to move away from the princess. He did so with an amused smile that his wife returned. It was all in Caro’s hands now. They were going to be fine.

***

Sierra stared at herself in the mirror, running her hands over her dress, trying to chase away the wrinkles staining her beautiful gown. Jessica appeared behind her, wrapped her arms around her waist and brought her to her chest before she left a kiss on her neck.

“You look beautiful.”

Sierra smiled back at her lover’s reflection in the mirror before she turned around and took a look at Jessica’s own dress.

“So do you,” she said before she leaned to kiss her lips. “Big day, today.”

“Indeed,” Jessica sighed.

“Will you be okay?”

“I’m sure I will be.”

“What a sight.”

The two mothers turned to see Leto, in his uniform, walk towards them, his two year old daughter in his arms.

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” he smirked.

“A bit late for that,” Jessica said as he leaned to kiss her, while Sierra took her daughter from him.

“You look gorgeous,” he whispered to his concubine.

“Well, don’t you look pretty,” Sierra cooed at her child. “Did daddy dress you?”

“Daddy tried,” Leto admitted, “but Nesta did.”

The two women chuckled as the toddler repeated Nesta’s name.

“Look at you,” he told his wife, “as beautiful as you were on our own wedding day.”

“Minus the tears,” she added. “Doesn’t daddy look handsome,” she whispered in her child’s ear.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, making them laugh.

Sierra tiptoed as she cupped her husband’s cheek and pressed a kiss on his lips. “We’re going to be late.”

“I’ll go check on Paul,” Jessica said, waving at the little girl before she exited the room.

“Bye, Jessica,” Sierra took her daughter’s arm and waved her goodbye. “You look so pretty,” she repeated before placing a kiss on her head.

“Just like her mother.”

“And what are you trying to get with this flattery, husband?” she said playfully.

“Nothing we can do in the presence of our little one,” he replied with a knowing smile.

“Not that we have time for it, anyway.”

“Indeed,” he hummed as he leaned in to kiss his wife. “We should go. The wedding won’t start until we’re there.”

“And wouldn’t the Prime Minister be heartbroken,” Sierra joked, and Leto’s laugh echoed in the room as they stepped out.

***

It was weird for Sierra to step foot in that chapel once more, two years after her wedding. She remembered everything from that day, everything she had felt, every ache in her heart. But now, all she could think about was Leto’s kind words and his caring gestures. Everything bad had been forgotten, cast aside to leave place for his smile, and the sincerity in his eyes. The memories from that day she had feared were now the ones she most cherished.

She watched Sisi walk towards the altar in her beautiful wedding gown towards Paul, and smiled as she knew both of them wanted this. Yes, it was a marriage for political reasons, but at least they wanted it.

And when they exchanged their vows, Leto took her hand in his, and when they shared they wedding rings, Sierra intertwined her fingers with his, and when they kissed, she tightened her hold on her daughter, with tears of happiness in her eyes.

She had made Leto promise he would never do to their daughter what her father had done to her. He wouldn’t send her away to marry an old man she had never met. She was not the heir, and she would not be a political tool. She wouldn’t need to be, she wasn’t going to be. She would marry for love should she choose to marry at all. But she would be free to do whatever she liked. To study, to work, to love.

And she watched the couple with grateful eyes as she knew the chance they had to have been able to marry for both love and duty, as she knew her daughter wouldn’t need to do either.

*********

Tags: @karolajnx0yep @partypoison00 @beepboopyoda @cute-baby-ducks @theliterarybeldam @slytherisstuff @rayisthehoe

#dune #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #oc #reader #duke leto atreides #leto atreides #leto x oc #leto x reader #paul x oc #jessica x oc #leto x oc x jessica #lady jessica #jesicca

[sansaorgana]

— THROWN TO THE WOLVES (I)

PART TWO || PART THREE || PART FOUR PART FIVE || PART SIX || PART SEVEN PART EIGHT || PART NINE || PART TEN

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader // Atreides!OC

SUMMARY — After receiving the news from the Emperor about moving to Arrakis, Duke Leto suspects the upcoming war with the Harkonnens. His daughter's marriage with the Baron's heir is supposed to create an alliance and ensure his family's safety. Previously sheltered and protected Princess Atreides must now face the harsh reality on her own.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is Paul Atreides' half-sister. I had this idea even before watching the movie... 😂 but I patiently waited to go to the cinema before starting to write. The fic starts around the events of the first movie but I imagine all characters to be a bit older than in canon – I hope it's okay since all the actors are adults. I can't believe I used to write fanfics where the Reader was Duke Leto's wife and now I'm switching sides like that! 🤣 I don’t know much about Dune’s Universe because I’ve only seen the new movies but I tried to do a bit of research. 🙏🏻

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, blood, mentions of death & actual death, violent behaviour, syringes & blood drawing, mentions of planned and scientifical breeding, Reader's behaviour might be interpreted as spoiled / ungrateful / rude (she's not supposed to be a good person)

WORD COUNT — 6,340

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THROWN TO THE WOLVES (I)

Duke Leto was standing by the window with his hands clasped behind his back as he watched his son training in the courtyard and his daughter reading a book on one of the stone steps. Last week he had received the news about the Emperor’s decision to move his family to an unfriendly world of Arrakis. He was aware of the consequences of such a decision. He knew that the Emperor always had his bigger purpose.

“What is troubling you?” Lady Jessica stood behind him and put her hand on his shoulder.

“The war with the Harkonnens is coming,” Duke Leto sighed. “And I don’t know what to do to protect my family from it.”

Lady Jessica furrowed her brows. She had been waiting for this moment for a long time now but the moment never seemed to be right.

“What if you make an alliance?” She proposed with her lips inches away from his ear as her hands hugged his chest from behind.

“An alliance? With the Harkonnens?” The Duke couldn’t grasp the concept. “How?”

“You have something very precious here that for some reason you are hiding from the world. But we all have to serve our families. Women serve their families in their own ways, Leto,” Lady Jessica smiled softly and pointed her finger at Princess (Y/N).

Innocent and unaware Princess (Y/N), reading a book and watching her half-brother train. She was wearing a pretty dark green dress with long sleeves that were supposed to protect her from the harsh winds of Caladan. Her hair was done up in a beautiful way by one of her maids and her eyes were as sad as usual.

“She will be sent to her mother’s family soon,” Duke Leto reminded Lady Jessica. “That was my agreement with them.”

“Yes, and what will she do there? She can’t hide away from the big world. She is her mother’s daughter but she’s also an Atreides. You raised her. She owes you loyalty,” Lady Jessica explained. “If you ask her to keep your family safe, she shall do it.”

“I would never send my daughter to those monsters,” The Duke shook his head and turned around to face Lady Jessica. “I am her father. I might have not loved her mother like I love you. But I love her as much as I love our son.”

“If our son was a girl, he’d be the one sent to the Harkonnens,” Lady Jessica reminded him. “Of course her bloodline is not as perfect as Paul’s but she will do. I’ve spoken to the sisters about it and…”

“You’ve spoken to the sisters about it?!” The Duke’s eyes widened at that revelation. “You have already discussed my daughter with the Bene Gesserit?”

“I raised her, too!” Lady Jessica raised her voice. “She is not mine and I would never call her my daughter but I care about her, too. I watched her grow, I teached her, I soothed her after her nightmares. I was there for her. But she can’t hide from her destiny on her grandparent’s planet. She is Princess Atreides.”

The Duke remained silent. He took a deep breath in and looked out of the window once more. His son was already hiding the blades after the training and approaching his sister.

You closed the book and squinted your eyes at the sight of Paul approaching you with a smile. He was a little younger than you but he was the future Duke. In a fair world, you would be the Duchess of Caladan. You were older and you were a daughter of your father and his wife. Paul was basically a bastard.

And he was weak. You didn’t want to say it out loud but you had been watching him train for quite a long time now and you didn’t see a future Duke in him. You kept thinking that you’d make a better one. After all, you were supposed to be born a boy and a future Duke. But your mother was no Bene Gesserit witch and she could not manipulate her child’s gender. She died giving birth to you and she didn’t secure your father with an heir. Lady Jessica did. 

So you had to watch Paul struggling with his trainings as you pretended to read books. You had asked your father to let you train as well but he didn’t agree. You were a Princess. If you were to gain an ugly scar on your face, your value would decrease.

“How was it?” Paul pinched you teasingly as you closed the book loudly to show him your annoyance at that gesture.

“The book?” You asked.

“No, my training.”

“I haven’t been paying attention to it,” you lied and shrugged your arms. “It’s starting to rain, let’s go back inside,” you stood up and he followed you to the gates. “I was thinking of giving away most of my dresses to the poor. I won’t need them on Arrakis, the ones with long sleeves and fur,” you told him.

“But you won’t be on Arrakis with us for long,” Paul reminded you.

“My mother’s planet is warm, too. It’s sunny and it almost never rains,” you explained. “I will not need these dresses there either.”

“It is sad that you will have to leave us,” Paul looked down.

You tried to hate him but sometimes you couldn’t. And as much as you hated everything about this family and how you were treated in it… He still remained your younger brother. And it wasn’t his fault that his mother was a witch and that your father loved him more than you.

“I will visit you and you will visit me,” you told him with a shy smile. “I am looking forward to moving to my grandparents and to choose any noble man on their planet I want to marry,” you chuckled.

Of course you’d rather stay and become a Duchess of Caladan. But that was out of option.

“I’ll see you later, I have to look through my dresses. I don’t trust my maid’s choices with them,” you told your brother and you went to your chambers.

You placed the book down on the desk and you caressed your mother’s picture. You had never known her since she died giving birth to you. But you always craved to meet her and you always daydreamed about her still being alive. Lady Jessica was no substitute to you. And she had never tried to be.

There were political marriage unions that were supposed to make alliances but there was also a different type of an union, a more mysterious and weird kind of it – the one that was calculated and planned by the Bene Gesserit. Your mother was supposed to give Duke Leto his heir and Lady Jessica was supposed to give him a daughter that would later be sent away to another great house and continue that malicious and intentional bloodline. To you, it was all witchcraft. You didn’t trust any of that because you didn’t trust Lady Jessica.

You knew that when your mother had been dying and you were being born, your father was not there. He was with her as she was already pregnant with Paul.

You knew about a lot of things from the maids that had come to Caladan with your mother. You knew your father had not been a bad man to her but he couldn’t force himself to love her. And you knew how much she had wanted to go back home. She had missed the sun and the warmth. And now she would remain forever on this grey and rainy planet. As a former Duchess of it, she had to be buried on Caladan.

You were occupied with the dresses in your closet when you felt someone’s presence in the chamber with you. You turned around and sighed at the sight of Lady Jessica.

“I’m thinking about giving away some of them to the poor,” you pointed at one of the dresses laying on your bed. “They will be no use on Arrakis,” you explained.

Lady Jessica remained silent as she leaned on the wall and kept watching you. You didn’t like that.

“What is it?” You asked.

“There’s a change of plans,” she finally cleared her throat as she straightened herself. You furrowed your brows.

“We are not moving?” You asked with hope. You were not a fan of Caladan but Arrakis sounded a hundred times worse.

“No. We are but you will not come with us,” Lady Jessica informed you.

At this point, you were confused.

“Am I moving to my grandparents earlier? Or… Or will I stay here to represent House Atreides?” Your eyes sparkled at the idea.

You already imagined yourself ruling the planet in your father’s name. Wearing regal dresses and being important. Perhaps proving to him that you’d be good at this job and he would let you do it for the rest of your life.

“You will help us to prevent the upcoming war with the Harkonnens,” Lady Jessica smiled softly. “You will be sent to Giedi Prime to marry the Baron’s heir.”

The sparkles in your eyes disappeared in an instant as your hands dropped down the gown you had been holding.

“No…” you whispered. “This cannot be true… My father would never agree to that.”

“He just did.”

“It’s… It’s your mending, you witch,” your fists clenched. “I must speak to my father myself,” you walked past her furiously.

You didn’t know what to think. But as long as you didn’t hear that from your father, it felt like it was a cruel joke on Lady Jessica’s side.

“Father,” you pushed the door leading to his office without knocking. He was sitting behind his desk as if he had already been expecting you. There was a deep wrinkle on his forehead and his eyes looked sad and worried when he laid them on you. “Tell me it is not true,” you demanded.

“You will be sent to the Harkonnens,” the Duke nodded his head.

“You can’t do this to me!” You yelled and banged your fists on his desk. The loud sound echoed through the chamber. “I had my whole life already planned… You cannot just…”

“I can,” he interrupted you and stood up, “and I will. We were not supposed to move to Arrakis. We were not supposed to be involved in this spice conflict. Things changed for all of us. You will go to Giedi Prime and secure the alliance.”

“How can you even speak to me about the alliance with them?” You asked. “How? Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been taught about the Harkonnens. I’ve been taught everything about them for the simple fact that they are our enemies. How can you send your daughter to them just like that?”

“You’ve said it yourself. You’ve been studying them since you were a little girl. You know their culture and their customs. It will be easy for you,” he tried to convince you.

Convince you to… what exactly? Convince you to agree to this without being forced to? Convince you that it would be indeed easy? Like it had been easy for your mother…? And all the women of all history forced to get married before her?

It was never easy. It was only easy for men to say it.

“I wish it was women ruling over the world,” you gritted through your teeth. “And I wish it was men being sent away from their homes and families to unknown worlds to start their life over, to become someone else’s property, to obey. I really do wish that, father.”

“That remains nothing but a wish,” he commented on that with a sad smile. “It brings me no pleasure to send you there. But you have your duties, too.”

“I have studied their customs and their culture. They are monsters. You are throwing me to the wolves. I will not survive this,” your voice finally broke as the realisation hit you that it was indeed happening.

You would be sent to Giedi Prime.

“Father!” Paul’s voice interrupted you both as he ran inside the chamber. His cheeks were flushed as he was taking deep breaths in after running. “You can’t do that! You can’t send her there!”

Oh, how cute your little brother was sometimes.

“The decision has been made, my son,” the Duke told him.

“Don’t be angry at him,” you turned around to face Paul. “You can thank your mother for that,” you added viciously before leaving the chamber angrily and going back to your own.

Everything was packed and the castle seemed to be as empty as never before. The ships were ready to take off and the Caladan weather was saying goodbye in its own manner – with a never ending rain.

The thing was, your family was going to Arrakis. You were going to Giedi Prime. Alone. 

Well, you had two of your maids with you like your mother had been gifted two from her homeplanet on her way to Caladan. And you had your mother’s wedding dress, too. Beautiful, handmade snow-white lace, layered and folded in all the right places. It was elegant and innocent looking. Your mother’s maids had been telling you stories that for a moment they thought your father would love her. Because he had been so mesmerised by her in that dress.

It hadn’t happened, though.

“I thought you’d go with me. You or Paul at least. Some man from the family to give me away to them. To stay for the ceremony and make sure I am safe,” you told your father as you were walking beside him. It was your last walk together on Caladan.

“I can’t go now, I am needed on Arrakis. Your safety is ensured. They would not dare to hurt you. You’re Princess Atreides, don’t let them make you forget about that,” your father put his hands on your shoulders.

“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t,” you admitted and looked down, defeated. Your father’s hands dropped down to hold yours. He furrowed his brows at how cold and shaky they were.

“Have some courage, my child.”

“Why does it feel like you’re getting rid of the burden?” You asked while biting on your lower lip.

“You have never been a burden to me,” he pulled you closer for a hug. You felt warm tears rolling down your cheeks.

You really wanted to believe his words but you couldn’t. You still felt like an unwanted daughter and a painful reminder of a woman he had been forced to marry once.

“You are my daughter, remember that,” Duke Leto took a step back to wipe the tears off of your cheeks. “You will forever be.”

You didn’t say anything to that. How would you even tell him that you wished you weren’t?

You went back to the hangar silently. Everyone was waiting for you so the ships would take off. Paul ran up to you and gave you a hug.

“I wish you could go with us on Arrakis,” he said with tears in his eyes.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but I’d also rather go to Arrakis than Giedi Prime,” you confessed. “That planet sounds dreadful.”

“They’re lucky to have you. You’ll make it bloom,” Paul tried to cheer you up.

“Or they will poison me and I will wither,” you smiled sadly and kissed his forehead goodbye.

You only nodded your head at Lady Jessica and she nodded her head back with a smile. 

You had been trying to overthink her plans. She either wanted you on Giedi Prime badly or she didn’t want you on Arrakis for some reason. But there was no point of losing sleep over that. You had other things to worry about now. Because finding out her motives wouldn’t change your situation anyway.

You had been informed in a message from the Harkonnens to your father that your husband would be Baron’s nephew named Feyd-Rautha who was your brother’s age and a future baron. His current title was na-baron and he was known for winning many fights as a gladiator. Really, the whole message from the Harkonnens sounded more like an eulogy praising him and his achievements. But it didn’t include his portrait or anything said about his character.

Your achievements were nonexistent but you were a Princess and no one expected any from you. Still, it felt humiliating when your father had been writing in his message that his daughter was innocent, pure, well-behaved, educated on the matter of the customs of her new house. Tidy, pretty, ready to give heirs. It made you feel nauseous.

You knew that the atmosphere on Giedi Prime was unusual after centuries of pollution. You knew everything about this planet and people. Still, looking outside the ship’s window, at first you thought something was wrong with your eyesight.

“Everything is black and white… I don’t see colour,” you rubbed your eyelids.

“It is normal, Princess. The colours cannot be seen outside,” one of the maids reminded you in a calm tone of voice.

You wondered how they could be so calm, your maids. After all, they were moving away from homes, too. And they would never leave to Arrakis with the ship like its captain and the crew. No, they’d stay on this planet with you forever.

“Time to get dressed, Princess,” the second maid entered your cabin. “The captain says we are landing soon.”

“We will be greeted by the servants. They will lead us inside where you will be officially introduced to the Baron and his family,” your first maid reminded you of the schedule. “What dress would you like to wear now, Princess?”

The wedding would take place tomorrow. Now you had to choose a dress to make your first impression.

“I’ll go with something bright,” you decided. “Modest, humble. I want to present myself to them exactly as they imagine me.”

“How would that be then, Princess?” The maid asked, slightly confused.

“Like a prey,” you explained.

They looked at each other but they said nothing. You stood up and opened your arms to let them undress you from your nightgown and then dress you. They put a creamy white silk dress on your body. It could have been your wedding dress if you hadn't already chosen your mother’s.

The jewellery was modest, too. The biggest and the most outstanding piece was a necklace with your house’s emblem. You asked for delicate makeup, too but your maids still made sure the blush on your cheeks would stand out.

When the ship landed, you left it with your maids and a few crew members. The Harkonnen servants looked both scary and scared – and that was an odd mix, especially in that black-and-white light. Their eyes were huge and dark, their skin pale and their heads bald. Both, men and women. They were also dressed in long white robes and they seemed to be terrified of doing something wrong. The men showed your crew members where to take all of your bags and chests. The women bowed down to you and led you inside the huge black fortress.

You swallowed thickly at the size and architectural style of it. It was black and industrial; reminded you of a jail for very dangerous criminals. You couldn’t imagine spending the rest of your life in a fortress like that. Certainly not after growing up on Caladan, in a castle on a cliff. You’d spend your whole days walking around and admiring nature. But on Giedi Prime there was no nature.

The air made you cough and you were exposed to it for five minutes maximum. Still, your lungs felt as if they were filled with a black, slimy liquid. You tried to cough it out before entering the Baron’s huge throne room.

One of the maids tapped your back lightly and you thanked her with a nod of your head. There were tears in the corners of your eyes now from that air and from trying to stop yourself from coughing when the heavy black doors opened in front of you.

“Princess (Y/N) Atreides,” you were announced.

You tried not to show any emotion on your face as you walked towards the throne. Your maids stayed behind and you had to face Baron Vladimir Harkonnen on your own.

As scary as he looked – especially with all the machinery around him – you tried to remember what your father had once told you. He was just a pathetic man who would be easily killed if someone had enough courage to stand very close to him and cut all these bubbles and tubes off. It was his morbid obesity – not his cruelty or special abilities – that made him look even less human than other people on this planet. He was a cruel man, of course he was. But he was also sick and that was the reason for his unusual looks that were so scary to most. You tried to remember about that but it was difficult because he was clearly the most powerful person in this room as he watched you with a smirk.

The power of that gaze was so strong that you stumbled a little on your way. And then someone else’s chuckle made you finally remember that Baron Vladimir Harkonnen wasn’t there alone.

You laid your embarrassed eyes on the young man standing next to the baron. His eyes were watching you closely and they were squinted as if he was a snake. The other man, standing on the other side of the Baron, was much older. So you assumed that the laughing one was your husband-to-be.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. He looked better than the other men you had seen so far on Giedi Prime. But it didn’t mean he was handsome or that he looked kind. On the contrary, he looked terrifying. And the way he laughed at your clumsiness was nothing but cruel. You felt blood in your veins turn cold.

You would die on this planet. Sooner than later. You would die, you thought. You wouldn’t survive it. You weren’t able to. At this very moment you felt like laying down on the floor and crying already. How were you supposed to keep being brave? It was impossible.

You were not raised for this. You were not prepared.

You suddenly felt angry at your father. At Lady Jessica. At Paul, even, for not stopping them. It no longer felt like you had been sent here to be ridden of. It felt like you had been sent here to die.

“Princess Atreides,” Baron’s voice caught you by surprise. You didn’t expect it to be so rough. But on the other hand, what else would you expect from a man like him?

He was visibly mocking you as you stood in front of him and bowed down a little. None of the men bowed down to you, though. You were a Princess, they were supposed to do that. But they did not care and you had no courage to remind them of the courtesy.

“Baron Harkonnen,” you greeted him.

“Welcome to my world,” he opened his arms. “I do hope you find it pleasant.”

You swallowed thickly. Another mockery.

“I do find it interesting,” you answered diplomatically.

“Let me introduce my nephews to you,” he pointed at the older man. “Count Glossu Rabban.”

“My Lord,” you bowed down a little again but he did not move. In fact, he looked quite bored to be there.

“Princess,” he only said and nodded his head very slightly. He was not a pleasant man and he was big and intimidating.

“And my favourite,” Baron pointed at the younger one, the one you had been trying to avoid looking at for a while now. You feared to lay your eyes on him because seeing him would make him real. As long as you weren’t looking, you thought, he wasn't existing. But the world didn’t work this way.

You were also surprised that the Baron didn’t hesitate to so openly admit which one was his favourite. As Paul’s sister, for a short while, you almost felt sorry for Count Rabban. You had this one thing in common with him – being second favourite.

It was weird to realise how similar some things might be between people so different.

“Na-baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” Baron introduced the younger man. “Your husband-to-be.”

“My Lord,” you bowed down at him.

“Princess,” he greeted you with a hiss. Tone of his voice was identical to his uncle’s and it made shivers run down your spine.

This was the voice of the man you’d spend the rest of your life with…? You found it difficult to imagine how you’d ever get used to it.

He didn’t bow down nor nod his head even a little. He had a menacing smirk on his lips as he watched you so intensely that you had to look away for a while. From the corner of your eye, you noticed him licking his lips in a vulgar manner.

“You will be taken to your chambers now to rest after your journey. The wedding will take place tomorrow,” was all the Baron announced and both of his nephews left the room just like that.

Not that you actually wanted to spend time with Feyd-Rautha but you were surprised that they didn’t care at all for you to get to know him a bit better before the wedding.

“One more thing,” Baron said when you were about to leave the room as well. You turned around to look at him. “A medic will visit you. You will obey his orders. Don’t get shy when he tells you to take your clothes off. He will not hurt you.”

“Y-yes, my Lord,” you nodded your head. You were in no position to tell him you disagreed. You might have been a Princess but you quickly realised it meant nothing to them and your father wasn't here to remind them.

You were surprised to see the room you had been taken to. It was not princess-worthy. In fact, it was not even guest-worthy. It looked more like a prison cell. You had the privacy of your own bathroom but there was nothing more except for the bed and your bags and chests scattered all over the floor. The room had no balcony and no windows either.

“Is it my room?” You asked the servant girl. She looked terrified when you spoke to her.

“Yes, Princess.”

“Is this a joke?” You asked her and she took a step back, probably used to the Harkonnens being violent towards her.

“It’s temporary… For now…” She stuttered out.

“Alright,” you nodded, feeling sorry for her. “I do not blame you. What is your name?” You tried to ask but her eyes widened even further and she ran away out of your room.

When she left it, the doors closed heavily and you could hear that the guards locked them.

“Marvellous,” you whispered to yourself with a sigh.

You took a shower and went to bed. You were exhausted after the journey but you were also too anxious to actually fall asleep. Under your pillow, though, you found a small black box. You opened it and it contained two white pills and a note.

It will help you sleep – Baron H.

You didn’t trust any pill given to you by the Baron Harkonnen but you were desperate to fall asleep and forget about your troubles for a while. And if it had killed you, well… You would be grateful, to be honest.

You put one of the pills on your tongue and it dissolved quickly, leaving a bittersweet taste. Two minutes later you were already asleep.

In the morning you were awakened by your maids and the Harkonnen medic. He ordered them to undress you and he inspected your body all over. It felt humiliating but you were aware that some families had this custom of checking the brides thoroughly before the wedding.

What surprised you more, though, was the fact he was drawing your blood, too. And he tried to make an injection of a weird substance, but you stopped him.

“What is this?” You asked, terrified.

Sleeping pills was one thing but getting injected with an odd liquid to your veins was another.

“It’s for health, Princess,” he tried to explain but it was obvious that you didn’t believe him. You moved away from the syringe as far as you could.

“What is this?” You asked once again.

“It will help to control your cycle,” he admitted.

“My cycle?” You furrowed your brow.

“What do you think is your purpose here?” He asked, without even addressing you properly. That was no way for a medic to speak to a Princess. But you assumed that if you told Baron Harkonnen about it, he’d only laugh. No one was taking you seriously here.

Your father’s voice echoed through your mind… That no one would harm you because you were Princess Atreides… Oh, how surprised he would be now. If he had been here. But he was not. You kept thinking about his absence all the time. How could he leave you like that…?

“My purpose here is to ensure an alliance between my house and The Harkonnen Dynasty,” you straightened yourself.

“No, your purpose is to give na-baron an heir and secure the Harkonnen bloodline. You will be given many injections like this and many tests will be run on your body. None of this will harm you but it will ensure that you will give na-baron a healthy son who would inherit only the best genetic material from both sides,” the medic told you.

“This is insane,” you shook your head. It reminded you of the Bene Gesserit ways… only it was even worse.

“Insane or not, Princess, you will obey,” the medic approached you with the syringe and injected the liquid into your thigh. You hissed at that and he chuckled. “Why would we hurt you before you give our na-baron an heir? Until that moment you are the most precious and protected cargo in this fortress.”

Until that time. You didn’t want to think what would happen after.

“Your bloodline is not as perfect as your brother’s but it will do. Especially with my help,” he patted your thigh and walked away to hide your blood samples into his bag. “Your son might rule the whole Empire one day.”

You pursed your lips, trying not to say anything because you were sure that the medic was also Baron's spy. You wanted to tell him, though, that they were all insane.

“Oh, also,” he said before leaving your room, “na-baron wants to see you before the wedding. Tell the guards when you’re ready and they will take you to his chamber,” he bowed down to you and left.

“Is it customary here to consummate the marriage before the ceremony?” One of your maids asked you.

“No,” you shook your head. “But this man doesn’t look like he cares about any customs. None of them do,” you shook your head, trying not to burst into tears.

Shakingly, you allowed your maids to put your mother’s wedding dress on you. It had been adjusted to fit you perfectly but now you almost regretted choosing it for the wedding. The Harkonnens didn’t deserve to see it nor to see you wearing it. It was sacred and this planet was the opposite of that.

Your bridal make up was a bit bolder than the day before. Still humble but more visible. Your hair was done really pretty and there were small white pearls here and there that complimented your beautiful dress and the pearl earrings.

You smiled sadly at your maids and knocked upon the door of your room for the guards to open it. You heard them unlock it and you walked out carefully, holding your dress up to make sure it wouldn’t get dirty on the floor.

“I am ready to see na-baron,” you told them and they nodded.

You followed them through the fortress, thinking of how much in fact you were not ready to see him. A few times you gained the courage to face him but it would quickly disappear. And you still were walking through the never ending mazes of corridors and halls.

The part of the fortress where they took you was much prettier than the one you had spent your night in. You could see that it was a palace where the nobility lived. And you became quite sure that your last night’s room had indeed been a cell.

The guards finally stopped in front of one of the heavy, black doors and knocked upon them. You swallowed thickly, realising that you still had no strategy on how to deal with Feyd-Rautha.

You hoped that you’d get an idea once you’d get to know him more.

“Come in,” his deep voice ordered and the guards opened the door. They showed you with their hands to walk inside, so you did, and they closed the door loudly behind you.

Feyd-Rautha was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by two servant girls and three women that looked nothing like the servants but they also did not look like any ladies. They were dressed in black leather and eyeing you up and down as if you were a dessert. They were clearly making fun of you and your wedding outfit. They were making you feel uncomfortable and you’d rather be alone with him than have their company.

Feyd himself did not mind their rude behaviour. He was shirtless and wearing nothing but black pants.

“Come, come,” he encouraged you to walk closer, “I am getting ready for our ceremony,” he informed you and nodded at one of the servant girls. She was working on putting the clothes on his pale and incredibly muscular body.

You realised that he’d be able to break you in half if he wanted to. And you did not like that idea.

You walked up to him, slowly and nervously. You were scared to disobey his order.

“Well, well, well,” he teased and three women giggled viciously.

“Who are they?” You asked, having a feeling that they were his lovers. 

Your pride and honour won with your fear. After all, you were a Princess. They were no equal to you.

“Oh, they’re my pets,” he explained to you with a smirk. “Don’t worry, you’ll be my pet, too. Just of a different kind.”

The women hissed at you jealously and you straightened yourself to present yourself more dignified.

“Why did you want to see me?” You asked.

He froze for a second as his eyes scanned you.

“You have a big mouth, Princess,” he noticed.

“Do I? What makes you think so? Because I speak to you like you are my equal? We are equal,” you reminded him.

Yes, he was scary. But he was pissing you off. Everything was pissing you off about this whole situation. And your fear would often turn into anger. You had problems with that ever since you were a little girl. Spoiled little Princess, your father would call you. And when you were getting angry, you weren’t thinking of the consequences.

“That is where you are mistaken,” Feyd moved swiftly and before you noticed, you had him standing right in front of you with a sharp blade pointed at your face. “We are not equal, woman.”

That was when you realised your mistake. The medic had told you that you were the most protected cargo. But not for Feyd. For his uncle.

“My Lord, the Baron said to treat Princess gently,” one of the servant girls gasped and you laid your eyes on her. It was the same girl who had shown you to your room the previous night. She had to like you if she risked so much.

She quickly regretted that outburst of courage. Feyd moved his arm without even looking at her and slit her throat.

Your eyes widened as you had never seen death like this. And the blood from her neck splashed all over your face and your beautiful wedding gown.

You burst into tears, not being able to control it anymore.

“Aw,” Feyd raised your chin up with his blooded blade as his three pets laughed at you, “my delicate Princess is crying over dead slaves?”

You did cry about her. And about yourself. But that was not the answer he wanted.

“You’ve ruined my dress,” you sobbed and he smirked.

“Don’t cry, my pet, my servants will wash it,” he took the blade away.

“I don’t have any other for the wedding,” you sniffed and tried to dry your cheeks with the palms of your hands. They soon became bloody since your face had not been wet only with the tears.

“I think you look good for the wedding,” Feyd walked away from you to let the remaining servant girl continue dressing him up. “In fact, I think you look better now,” he added and you looked at him like he was crazy.

Well, he was crazy.

“You might leave now. We’ll see each other at the ceremony,” he told you and you nodded your head before turning around to leave his chamber as soon as possible. You wanted to be out of this room.

“You may feast on your breakfast, my pets,” was the last thing you heard before walking out and from the corner of your eye you saw the three women jumping on the dead servant girl’s body.

You felt sick and dizzy. You wanted to scream and run away but the guards took you by your arms to guide you to the throne room that had been decorated for the ceremony of your wedding to na-baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

MASTERLIST

#dune imagine #dune x reader #dune fanfic #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen imagine #feyd rautha harkonnen fanfic #lilysfiction #austin butler x reader #tttw

[faetreides]

summary: the discovery of a long hidden planet operating outside of the emperor’s rule threatens to upend the balance between the great houses and shift the tides of war. (ongoing series)

pairings: paul atreides x reader , chani x reader, leto atreides x reader, lady jessica x reader, irulan x reader, feyd rautha x reader (AFAB crown heir!reader)

cw: reverse harem type crack treated seriously, cosmic horror elements, undecided/possibly ambiguous endgame, dark/yandere behavior & themes, comedic undertones, dark & nsfw content, canon compliant as much as possible but there will be gaps in my memory, past leto & jessica (they split after she became a reverend mother)/past paul & chani, each character pursues reader separately, oc planet & oc house for reader, pretend like it still makes sense for leto to be there, don’t think too hard about the logistics of this in general, vintage sci fi inspired, i just wanted to have a silly unrealistic series where it’s all about the reader lmao

series masterlist:

coming soon !

1. stardust fallout

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

tag list (ask to be added or removed, NO MINORS):

youngestxhearts, tian-monique, angel-gabriella, isnt-itstrange, flower-frog, aerangi, saturnhas82moons, ch0co1atech1p, mcmisbehaving, zoeaxrodriguez22, hellomadamebutterfly, sh4d0w69he4rt, moonsoulk, skythighs, laennetargaryenskywalker, nexilismirus, howibecameabadassbitch, hoely-maria, aubs444, timhalamet, allison-119, your-favorite-god, homopheli, droopycoquette

- faetreides 2024

#so um yeah #dune #dune x you #dune x reader #dune fanfiction #dune fic #paul atreides x you #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides #chani x reader #irulan x reader #princess irulan #leto atreides x you #leto atreides x reader #leto atreides #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #lady jessica #lady jessica x reader #dark fic #yandere themes #⚰️.deaddove #dune smut #paul atreides smut #feyd rautha smut #paul x you #paul x reader #feyd x you #feyd x reader

[slaybestieslay946]

Dream Girl

Summary: Paul has dreamt of a girl all his life, and when he reaches Arrakis, he finally discovers her to be the assistant to Dr Liet Kynes.

Pairing: Paul Atreides x Fremen!OC

Word count: 2500

Warnings: Slight mentions of violence, pretentious writing style.

A/N: just need to get this out because im so obsessed with him its becoming unhealthy. hope anyone reading enjoys and has a nice day! You never know i might add chapters if i feel like it lmao.

Paul had seen her in his dreams many times over the years. She had been with him throughout it all, from the cradle until now, as he began to bloom into adulthood. 

He’d never thought he’d really see her in front of his eyes. Over the years he’d dismissed her as a mere fantasy; the leftovers of a child’s overactive imagination. Blue eyes that couldn’t quite be real, and a beauty that only existed in daydreams. 

Yet, here she was, standing stoic beside the ‘judge of the change’, surveying the approaching group with those piercing blue eyes. Paul had to remind himself to breathe before he collapsed from lack of oxygen. 

“My Lord Duke.” The older woman greeted his father, bowing her head, and so did the dream-girl, except the fire in her eyes never faded. 

“Dr Kynes. Thank you for agreeing to take us out.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, sire. This is my apprentice and pilot, Nami.” 

Duke Leto acknowledged the dream-girl, no, Nami, with a quick nod. She responded in kind.

“Now,” Kynes began, “We must check your stillsuits-” The two women stepped forward in sync to aid the group, but were stopped by Gurney’s blades at their necks. 

Paul couldn’t help but admire the way she didn’t flinch as a blade was held to her throat, merely raising her chin in defiance. Few would have the gall to glare at the soldier in such a way. 

“Gurney, no need. Let them work.” The Duke asserted, and Gurney lowered his sword, albeit rather begrudgingly. 

They then approached the group of outworlders to adjust their suits. Paul had to force himself to breathe normally as Nami approached him and the two locked eyes. He quickly tore his gaze away from hers, as she began to check his suit was on correctly. 

All the while, Kynes was going on a long and probably very interesting spiel about stillsuits and their benefits, but he found it very hard to concentrate when he was face to face with the girl he had been dreaming about all his life. 

“You’ve worn a stillsuit before?” Nami suddenly asked, inspecting some of the straps on the front. 

“No, this is my first time.” 

“Hm,” She cocked her head in confusion, “Your boots are fashioned slip-fast at the ankles. Who taught you to do that?” 

“Just seemed like the right way.” He said, trying to work out what was going on inside her head. 

Their exchange had now caught the attention of the rest of the group, and Nami turned to Kynes, muttering a few words in a different language, shaking her head slightly. 

It took Paul a few moments to realise that they were speaking in the language of the fremen. 

“You’re fremen.” He said plainly, like it had been obvious the whole time. 

“We are accepted in both sietch and village, yes.” Nami said, nodding. 

Before he could ask anymore questions, Kynes began to lead them to the aircraft, explaining that they would be travelling to the nearest harvesting field north of Arrakeen. 

The group all entered one of the small aircraft, and Paul watched as Nami began to sit in the pilot's chair, but was stopped by his father. 

“If you don’t mind, Nami, I’d like to pilot.” He said, with an almost childlike smile upon his face. Paul remembered his fathers admission that he had once wished to be a pilot himself. 

“Of course, my lord.” She bowed her head, and shuffled over to the co-pilot’s seat. 

The group all strapped themselves into their seats, grabbing a headset and preparing for take off. 

Duke Leto soon began to press several buttons, and Paul’s dream-girl followed suit, adjusting switches here and there. The Duke soon pulled up off the ground and turned in a near-perfect manoeuvre that left his co-pilot impressed. 

“You’re a pilot?” She asked. 

“Yes I was, in my youth. It has been many years though.” He smiled, regarding the desert beneath him in what looked like wonder. 

“You are very talented.” Nami complimented simply, and Paul watched as a newfound respect bled into her eyes, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of yearning for her to look at him in the same way. With respect earned by his own deeds, rather than the kind that stemmed from a generations old name. 

Kynes then began her narration as they moved over dunes, towards the spice fields. Paul chipped in here and there with a question or two for her. 

“Why don’t they just shield the crawlers?” He asked, looking down at the desert below, where one of the crawlers was moving. Was this the desert power his father had been talking about?

“Shields are a death sentence in the desert.” Nami chipped in, turning her head momentarily to look at Paul, who tore his face away in embarrassment when he felt a slight heat rise to his cheeks. 

“Yes,” Kynes continued for her apprentice, “It attracts the worms and drives them into a killing frenzy.” 

“Is that one of the worms?” His father asked, pointing at a vague cloud of dust on the horizon. 

Kynes picked up a pair of binoculars from her lap and peered into them for a moment, before answering, “That’s a worm alright. And a big one. Nami, call it in for me?” 

“On it.” She replied, and began speaking into the headset in various codes, asking for any carriers in the area. 

It didn’t take long for one to appear, and it began making its way to the crawler below. Paul watched in awe as it made its descent. He knew spice harvesting was dangerous, and of course accommodations had to be made, but the technology used was truly fascinating. How was that tiny carrier going to lift that enormous crawler?

He would, unfortunately, never find out. Because as the carrier attempted to attach itself, one of the arms snapped. Suddenly an influx of frenzied shouts came over the radio in confusion, as Kynes chipped in to explain the situation. 

The Duke then snapped into action. 

“How many men on that crawler?” 

“A crew of 21.” Kynes replied. 

“Our ships can only take 6 each. That leaves 3 men.” Paul added. 

“We’ll find a way.” His father responded, flicking a switch before dropping into a nosedive, the other two ships following suit behind him. 

Soon, they were landing just beside the crawlers, and unbuckling themselves from their seats inside the aircraft. Paul was the first up and moving. 

“The shield generators should weigh about the same as a few men.” Paul said, waiting for Gurney to finish undoing his seatbelt. 

“Good idea,” Gurney said, “I’ll toss them out, go instruct the men.” He said, patting the younger boy on the shoulder as he moved to get rid of the shields, Paul slipping past him and onto the sand below. 

As he dropped onto the sand of the desert for the first time, he couldn’t help but pause. Something about his boots on the ground felt natural, and as he looked down at the swathe of gold, he had never felt more at home. 

What snapped him into action again was the thud of a shield generator falling from the aircraft, and then Paul was moving, running towards the groups of men coming out of the crawler. 

“7 over there, 7 over there, move!!” He shouted, pointing to the various aircraft waiting for them and waving them over.

And then a cloud of sand engulfed him. 

Paul quickly brought his mask to his face and shut his eyes, trying to ignore the stinging pain of millions of grains of sand hitting him. And then suddenly everything around him seemed to still, and he brought his mask down away from his face, opening his eyes. 

He was surrounded by a cloud of dust, and he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. 

Paul took a deep breath in, feeling the way his nostrils tingled as he inhaled, and noticing the sparkle of the dust around him. 

He wasn’t standing in dust, but spice. 

 Before his eyes the real world melted away, and he was overtaken by visions. Visions of violence, death, the dunes of Arrakis, a blade, and finally Nami’s face, blue-blue eyes staring into his own. 

Then she began to cry, tears streaming down her face. The face that had seemed so stoic in the real world was not so in his vision. 

Then his vision began to return, and through the haze of spice he heard something familiar, before realising what it was. 

“I recognise your footsteps old man…” Paul whispered, jolting awake as Gurney clapped him on the shoulder, hauling him to his feet. 

“C’mon!” He shouted, glancing to the side. Paul followed his gaze, and was immediately spurred into action as he saw the fast approaching sandworm. 

Immediately he was sprinting towards the aircraft, locking eyes with his father through the windshield as he began to take off, spinning so the open door was facing them. 

And there she was. 

Gurney was the first to reach her, and she quickly hauled him up into the aircraft, pushing him in while not taking her eyes off Paul. 

“Atreides!” She shouted, holding out her hand for him to take, evident concern in her eyes. 

He pumped his legs faster than he thought possible, catching up with the aircraft and grabbing her hand, watching as the sandworm emerged from the very place he had been kneeling, overtaken by visions. 

Eventually he pulled himself away from the sight of the desert, clambering up the ramp towards Nami, who quickly shut the door behind him. 

“Thank you.” Paul said to her, still slightly breathless. 

“No problem.” She replied, dusting a few grains off his shoulder before returning to her seat beside the Duke, slipping on her headset and reporting their re-entry into general airspace. 

Paul moved back to his seat just behind her, trying to ignore his fathers angry gaze, as well as quell the aggressive beating of his heart. Their trip had been more eventful than he thought. 

Soon the aircraft was landing, and Paul stood to get up, wanting to get away from one of his fathers lectures, but not before saying goodbye to Nami. 

“Thank you, again.” He said, quickly.

She smiled this time, her face softening ever so slightly, “Take care, Paul Atreides. I pray we meet again.” 

He nodded, unable to form words in response as his tongue had grown heavy in his mouth. And then he ran away, jumping out of the aircraft as quickly as he could before he blurted out anything stupid.  

*

Paul whipped around taking in the sudden appearance of so many Fremen around him and his mother. They must have seen them running from the sandworm. 

“Do not run. You will only waste precious water.” A man said from above him. He seemed to be a leader. Upon closer inspection, Paul realised it was Stilgar, the man who his father had received. 

“Stilgar? Do you remember me? You came before my fathers council.”

“Ah, yes. The Atreides boy.” 

“Stop wasting time, we need their water!” A cry came from above, and as Paul looked up, he saw a man, and beside him, his dream-girl. 

“Quiet Jamis. You know we cannot harm him. He is Atreides. Besides,” Nami jumped down from one of the ledges to stand beside Stilgar, “I will vouch for him.”

Objections erupted from the rest of the Fremen, but her eyes remained locked with Paul’s. Stilgar quickly jumped in to quiet them. 

“That is fine. The boy is young, he can still learn our ways. However, the woman cannot.” He declared, and Paul looked to Stilgar in horror, moving backwards to stand in front of his mother protectively. Although, it was mostly meaningless, as he knew his mother could protect herself perfectly well. 

“She’s too old to learn?” He asked, his voice harsh. 

“Atreides…” Nami said softly, almost like a warning not to push further. 

But he didn’t have to, as the Fremen were already drawing their knives, and Stilgar was removing the outer layer of cloth he was wearing. And then, his mother was leaping out from behind him, and she and Stilgar became locked in battle. 

Paul took the opportunity to gain the upperhand, climbing up to a higher ledge and stealing a maula pistol from one of the Fremen warriors, but not before shooting Nami an apologetic glance. 

As he looked back down, he saw that his mother had made quick work of the Fremen leader, holding his own blade to his throat. Nevertheless, he activated the pistol and kept it pointed at one of the nearby Fremen.

“Peace, woman. You did not tell me you were a weirding woman and a fighter.” He sighed. 

“Our conversation ran short.” She snapped, not letting go of him. 

“Peace. I judged you too hastily.” 

Jessica then released Stilgar, handing him back his blade, meanwhile Paul lowered his pistol.

“The woman is under my charge until we reach sietch Tabr. Nami, are you still willing to vouch for the boy?”

“Yes.” She said firmly, and the rest of the Fremen sighed, making a cutting notion on the top of their wrists with their blades, before sheathing them. 

Once that was done, Stilgar began climbing up the ledge to approach Paul, holding out a hand for the maula pistol. 

“Come now. You will get your own when you have earned it.” He said, and the younger man sighed, returning the weapon to him, albeit begrudgingly. 

That was when ‘Jamis’ decided to chip into the proceedings once more. 

“I will not have them.”

“Jamis, I have spoken,” Stilgar said, “Be still.”

“You talk like a leader, but the strongest leads. She bested you. I invoke the Amtal.” 

Paul’s mother stiffened beside him, and although he did not yet know what that meant, he knew it did not bode well. 

“Jamis, you may not challenge her-”

“Then who will fight in her place?”

“Jamis,” Nami piped up, “Do not do this, the night is fading.”

“Then the sun will witness this death, Nami. Where is her champion?” 

Paul now understood what was going on, and if anyone was going to fight for his mother it would be him. 

He stepped out from behind Stilgar, and walked towards Jamis in the way he had been taught to as a Duke’s son, back straight, head held high.

“I accept her champion.”

Stilgar sighed as Jamis brushed past them, but soon followed suit. As did the rest of the Fremen, his mother included, until it was only him and Nami left. 

“So, we meet again, Atreides.” She smiled, her voice slightly teasing. 

“Mhm. I see you’ve been praying.” Paul smirked, hoping to get the upper hand over her.

“Have you not?” She asked in faux shock, and it sent Paul spinning, because although he had not been praying, he had dreamt of her every night since he last saw her. 

“Besides,” Nami continued, not noticing his sudden flush, “I am beginning to regret my prayers. You are causing trouble already.” 

“It’s in my nature.”

“Evidently. Now, come along, you have a duel to prepare for. Jamis is a good fighter, if you try hard you may just die with honour.” She declared, a wry smile on her face as she turned on her heel and led him further into the rocks of the desert. 

#x reader #paul atredies x reader #paul atreides x you #dune part two #paul atreides #dune movie #dune #dune part 2 #fanfic #writing

[dunefandomhub]

Fic Rec Friday!

Each week I rec 3-4 fics from across the Duneverse featuring a different ship or theme each time!

I am open to taking suggestions/reccomendations at any time! Feel free to send an ask!

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen X Reader Fics

Turn the Inner Eye by @barbiedragon

Feyd-Rautha x Concubine!Reader

The Bene Gesserit trust in you to fulfill the prophecy

one-shot 1.8k words

Rated E

Thrown to the Wolves Series by @sansaorgana

Feyd-Rautha x fem!reader/Atreides!OC

After receiving the news from the Emperor about moving to Arrakis, Duke Leto suspects the upcoming war with the Harkonnens. His daughter's marriage with the Baron's heir is supposed to create an alliance and ensure his family's safety. Previously sheltered and protected Princess Atreides must now face the harsh reality on her own.

9 Parts

Diplomatic Relations by @lady-phasma

Feyd-Rautha x GN!Reader

No physical description of reader. Feyd is on a diplomatic tour of an unnamed planet (not Caladan) under Harkonnen rule. You catch his eye, smuttiness ensues. Plot if you squint.

one-shot 4k words

Princess by @valeskafics

Feyd x Corrino!Reader

Feyd Rautha makes it his mission to seduce you, the innocent younger sister of Princess Irulan.

one-shot 3.5k

DUBCON Dark Fic

#fic rec friday #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #x reader #fic rec #dune #dune fanfiction

[catlordewrites]

Black Herons - Ch. 8

Masterlist - Ao3 - First Chapter - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Taglist: @sanfransolomitatm @karolajnx0yep @joossieisdabomb @slyterinstuff

A/N: Six months is a ridiculously long time to write 20 pages. But here we are.

Pairing: Duke Leto Atreides I x Fem!OC (slow burn)

Rating: M

Word Count: 5k

Chapter Eight: Lovers’ Paradigm

Part Two

House Nastaran had fallen.

The dawn sky charred. The endless prairie burned.

Trine Nastaran tucked herself deeper into the wardrobe. The comforting scent of her father’s clothes almost smothered that of smoke.

Almost.

She was eight years old. Just old enough to remember when the She-Wolf of the Badb had been a bedtime story. A joke, really. No more than a curiosity wreaking havoc on the other side of the planet. Before long, it was something the grownups whispered about when they thought she couldn’t hear. Now, it was Trine’s reality.

She-Wolf of the Badb. Dowager Countess. Rhiannon the Conqueror.

Many names for a hero. Many names for a nightmare.

The door of the wardrobe clattered open, and Trine found herself looking up into the panicked face of her governess. Sweat darkened the loose hairs that had flown wild and plastered them to her cheeks. Usually, the sight of the woman who had all but raised her was a comfort to Trine, but now the feral look in the old woman’s eyes frightened her more than ever.

“We have to go.” The governess hissed, snagging a coat off the rack above Trine’s head and tugging it on the young girl’s thin arms. “Quickly now. No time for tears.”

She hadn’t realized that she had been crying. Trine scrubbed the sleeve of the coat across her face and smeared it with snot. It was her father’s coat. It hung comically off her tiny frame.

No matter. The governess grabbed her upper arm in a death grip and dragged her into the next room—her father’s bedchambers.

Once inside, the governess spun her around so they were face to face.

“Where is it?” She demanded. “Show me!”

When Trine couldn’t find her voice, the governess gave her a sharp shake. Fresh tears rolled down her face, but she pointed to the wall behind her parent’s bed.

The governess hurried forward and fumbled around until she found the switch disguised as an imperfection in the paint. The wall swung in, and the governess wasted no time in dragging Trine through it.

The secret passages hidden within the Nastaran ancestral home were dark, but they didn’t dare try to find a light. Trine hurried blindly—guided only by her governess, who was in turn guided only by her hand pressed against the curve of the wall—as the carefully crafted stone of the house shifted to smooth bedrock.

The deeper they went, the colder it became. Trine drew her father’s coat tighter around her. She knew better than to complain.

Ironians didn’t fear the cold.

The thought of her father caused tears to spring back into her eyes. She hallucinated wildly in the inky darkness, assaulted by images of her family and the echoes of their laughter.

Her father’s hands, worn and rough. Her oldest brother teaching her to ride. The younger, stuffing his face with pudding, bulging his cheeks like a bark weasel just to make her laugh.

They were all she had ever known.

By now, they were all certainly dead.

Trine was young, but she knew the way these things worked. And the She-Wolf of the Badb was not known for mercy. The Nastaran bloodline was to be sponged from existence and its assets absorbed into the Dering war machine.

Heirs to the Nastaran title—sons with vengeance in their hearts and a legitimate claim to conquered lands—would not be tolerated.

Trine’s brothers—aged only sixteen and twelve—would not be allowed to survive. Even if they did somehow escape as Trine had, they would be hunted down. The Countess was very thorough.

A daughter, though, might be overlooked.

Trine knew that this was why her governess had come for her only, even though she loved Trine’s brothers as her own sons. Had raised and taught them for most of their lives.

That was the harsh reality of it. The price of saving her brothers would mean being hunted, and one child was better than none.

Freezing water splashed on their shoes as Trine and her governess plunged deeper into the darkness, driven by fear and the promise of light.

Trine stayed silent. Her tears cooled on her cheeks.

Ironians weren’t afraid of the cold.

Paul was quick and light on his feet, but Duncan was easily three times his size, and the sword was heavy.

Duncan’s shield shimmered as Paul’s sword skimmed harmlessly across it. After months of training with knives, the Atreides Weapons Master had decided it was time for the young Lord to start learning how to handle larger—and decidedly heavier—weapons.

“Keep your guard up, boy,” Duncan encouraged, holding his own sword easily in one hand. He demonstrated the correct height to hold the blade, keeping it level across his chest.

With shaking hands, Paul did his best to copy the stance. He knew that building strength was one of the points of this exercise—that he would struggle with it until he didn’t—but they’d been working for only ten minutes, and he was already exhausted.

He did his best to apply some of his mother’s training—steady his breathing, slow his heartbeat—with only moderate success. Bene Gesserit techniques were hard enough to master during quiet meditation; during combat training, it was near impossible.

Then again, he was only eight years old.

Duncan kept his moves slow and predictable, giving Paul time to get accustomed to the unfamiliar weight of a longer blade. They ran through a few basic forms, and Paul practiced a little with swinging and blocking.

By the time Duncan called an end to the session, Paul’s arms were made of jelly. He felt good, though. Accomplished.

Duncan was pleased as well.

“You’re off to a good start, lad. You’ll be the finest fighter in the Imperium before you know it.” His gaze shifted to something behind Paul. “Wouldn’t you agree, M’Lady?”

Paul turned to see Lady Rhiannon standing by the door, leaning back against the wall with her arms crossed nonchalantly against her chest.

He hadn’t noticed her come in, which was surprising in itself. Even more so since Paul hadn’t seen her much of late. Like his father, Rhiannon had been consumed by the preparations for the upcoming trip to Ahmes.

Lady Rhiannon tilted her head in consideration.

“You’ve got impressive reflexes, Paul. That’s very good. You’re over-committing to the swings a bit, but that’s an easy fix.” The smile she gave him was full of warmth. “Yes, you’ll make a fine warrior some day.”

Touched by the sincerity behind her words, Paul ducked his head shyly and thanked her.

Duncan twirled his sword experimentally, not at all tired from the same exercise that had exhausted Paul so thoroughly. He pointed at Lady Rhiannon with the blade.

“And that’s from one of the finest fighters to ever be produced by one of the Houses of Iro. Trained by a Ginaz Swordmaster, too. It’s a high compliment, lad.”

Paul perked up. He hadn’t known that. “You were trained by a Swordmaster?”

The Duchess smiled wistfully.

“Alecto Ivaylo. I miss him, the ornery old fart.”

“I didn’t know Swordmasters were hired to train Highborn Ladies.”

“It’s not common,” Duncan explained, “but on Iro, assassins are. When your children are always at risk, it’s better to prepare them early.”

Lady Rhiannon sniffed.

“A daughter dies just as easily as a son. All children should know how to wield a blade.”

“I’m starting to find that I agree.” Duncan leveled his sword at the Duchess of Caladan challengingly. “Care to demonstrate?”

Paul would have thought that any Lady with a title would look strange with a sword, but there was a gleam in Lady Rhiannon’s eyes that told him he was very wrong. Restlessness. Bloodlust.

He looked to his stepmother hopefully.

Rhiannon smiled.

She looked so graceful and formal in her daywear, but as she strode across to the weapon rack, Paul could imagine the intentionality that was hidden behind the thing she wore; the chiffon and silk jumpsuit was loose enough for free movement, form fitting enough to not get in the way. She kicked off her expensive shoes, and beneath them were slippers with gripped soles.

The sword she chose was of medium size. She tested the balance. Nodded her satisfaction.

Duncan bounced on his toes, impatient. “Shields or not, M’Lady?”

“Not. I don’t believe in shields.”

“As you wi—”

Rhiannon attacked. Hard.

Duncan barely fended off her first volley, immediately on the defensive. Rhiannon was fast. Vicious. Her last few months had been filled with bureaucracy, and she had a lot of energy to burn.

Duncan recovered quickly from his initial surprise, and was equally quick to match her ferocity.

The room was filled with the ringing of steel on steel. He pushed forward, striking high and forcing her back a few steps.

Rhiannon twisted to the side. Danced under his arm to get under his guard. Duncan adjusted to the tactic, stepping back again to leave some room between them.

Paul, who had retreated to watch from a safe distance, could almost believe that this was a real fight. To him, at least, it looked as if each swing of Rhiannon’s sword was intended as a killing blow. But Lady Rhiannon was a skilled swordsman, and could be trusted not to cause harm unless she wanted to do so.

Although Duncan was similarly skilled, he seemed to be erring on the side of caution. Training scars were not uncommon, even at the most advanced levels.

It would take a braver man than him to accidentally mark a Duchess.

Rhiannon, though, wasn’t having it.

When Duncan hesitated, missing out on a swing that chanced coming too close to her face, she rewarded him by ramming the hilt of her sword into his stomach.

Duncan doubled over, winded. Between one blink and the next, Rhiannon had disarmed him. She stood over him, the tip of her blade hovering in front of his nose, eyes sparking with annoyance.

“I’m not here to be trained by you, Swordmaster. Treat me as an equal, or you are useless to me.”

The Swordmaster stared along the keen edge of the blade. His face cracked with a sheepish grin.

“Yes, M’Lady.”

Rhiannon held there for a second longer to get her point across, then stepped away to give him space to rise.

“Again.”

With the late afternoon light streaming in through the window, and Leto’s hand trailing lazily across her bare ribs, Jessica could almost pretend that nothing had changed.

She had slept in this room, in this bed, for the better part of ten years. The sound of Leto breathing beside her was more familiar to her than that of her own. But their current physical closeness wasn’t enough to cross the emotional gulf that yawned between them.

“Move back in with me.”

The request was so quiet, so hopeful, that she almost said yes out of instinct. Jessica’s heart twisted, and she sat up.

“You know I can’t.”

Leto sat up on his elbows, looked as if he wanted to reach out to draw her back against him.

Jessica almost wished that he would.

“I don’t see why you need your own room.”

“You know why.”

Jessica slipped out from underneath the sheets and bent to collect her discarded clothes from the floor. Distantly, she realized that they were doing the same thing; they both hid their pain—him with his frustration, her with her cold distance—while pretending that they didn’t miss each other desperately.

“I’ve told you why,” she went on. “You don’t listen.”

“And I’ve told you. The Duchess doesn’t care.” In this room, she was always the Duchess—never Rhia. “She has her lovers to keep her company. What we keep between us is of no concern to her.”

She wanted to shout at him, You still aren’t listening!

She busied herself with dressing, instead.

“I know you don’t like her,” Leto tried to reason. He sat up and swung his legs off the bed. “Has she done anything to upset you? If she has, please tell me.”

“This isn’t about like,” Jessica responded coldly.

“What, then?”

Things were changing around Castle Caladan; Jessica’s Bene Gesserit trained senses were picking up on patterns—new people in the castle, coming and going, fulfilling roles that couldn’t entirely be explained. She didn’t have access to enough of the documentation to prove it, but she was sure that it went farther than Castle Caladan—off world exports, transportation, immigration, and trade—threads woven through every aspect of House Atreides and it’s holdings, forming an elaborate spider web with the Duchess Atreides at the center.

Leto strongly distrusted the Sisterhood. Disliked them for their manipulative ways. If Jessica told him everything she knew, he would demand to know her source. After that, he wouldn’t believe her anyway.

“Do you not find it odd,” Jessica started slowly, choosing her words with great care, “that the Duchess was not presented to you until after the engagement was final?”

“I… didn’t ask to meet her sooner.”

Leto was frowning, but Jessica heard the uncertainty in his voice and knew that she had touched a nerve.

“But it was strange, yes?” Jessica pressed. “Almost as if they were making the arrangements in secret.”

There was a moment where Leto’s brow furrowed. Jessica watched as he turned it over in his mind, hoping against hope that he would connect the dots and draw his own conclusions.

“We… considered the possibility that they may have had reasons to keep her hidden. Insanity or eccentricity, maybe.” Then the moment passed. Leto’s face hardened. “But we were wrong. Lady Rhiannon has proven herself to be a fine, capable woman. I haven’t had doubts about that for a long time.”

Jessica thought of a snake on the first day of spring. Slowly uncoiling after months of frozen sleep. Stretching out, reviving itself on rocks warmed by the sun.

The Duchess had been sleeping, but there were signs that she was waking up.

“Were they hiding her from you?” Jessica’s voice was low with urgency. “Or was it you they were hiding from her?”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“How much do you know about her, truly? She walks in blood and shadows, and it is a mistake to assume that she has our best interests at heart.”

The shutters slammed shut on Leto’s expression, and Jessica knew in that moment that she had lost him.

“Jealousy is unbecoming of you Jessica,” he said coolly. “And I have to say, trying to sew dissent between the Duke and Duchess of Caladan is beneath you.”

“I only mean to say,” Jessica managed to keep her voice calm and even, “that perhaps you allowed yourself to trust her too quickly.”

“Is that it?” Leto demanded. “You don’t trust her? Why?”

“Why do you?” She shot back.

Leto blinked, dumbfounded. As if not-trusting her had never occurred to him. “She’s my wife.”

It would always come back to that, wouldn’t it? She turned her back on him. “And I am not.”

Hurt flickered across his handsome features. “You have my love, Jessica. And you always will. Is that not enough?”

She glanced back at him and thought, I have your love, but I have never had your trust.

Jessica left the room.

A box was waiting for Jessica when she returned to her chambers. It was very large—about two feet wide and three feet tall—and made of highly polished wood. Intricate patterns ran along the framework, the swirling shapes of great predators and human figures wielding blades. Distinctly Ironian.

Jessica circled the box warily. There was a folded piece of stationery attached to the top. A note. Handwritten.

It read:

Sorry for being an ass.

~Rhia

Alarmed, Jessica stepped back from the box on instinct. The note implied a gift, but what reasons did the Duchess have for giving her anything? She was suddenly hyper aware of how easily this could be some kind of trick. Would the Duchess dare give her something that could cause her harm? Not this directly, surely. Not with her name on a note and Ironian designs on the wood. Lady Atreides was too smart for that.

Jessica wasn’t completely convinced, but knew that she didn’t have much choice. The box was held closed by a gold latch on the lid—wlysteel, she noted—which triggered the sound of mechanisms tumbling from within. Jessica was almost surprised when the top of the box slid open, instead of exploding or emitting some kind of poison. She was glad that she was alone, because she wouldn’t have wanted anyone to hear her quiet gasp when she saw what was inside.

There were many valuable natural resources found in the mines on Iro. Some were sought after for their usefulness—the steel, coal, salt, and such—others, for their rarity. Diamonds, sapphires, and rubies, to name a few. But there were others considered far more precious, so rare that they could only be found on Iro, and nowhere else in the universe.

Viimatar was a very rare, very beautiful crystal that formed within iridescent geodes—usually near veins of quartz or coal. They were so rare, in fact, that the only specimen owned by a Landsraad family, outside those who had spent generations on the planet, was that of the Emperor. Jessica had never seen viimatar before, but knew from readings about Iro that a single geode was generally about the size of an apple. The viimatar before her was roughly the size of a human head.

And oh, was it beautiful. The watery sunlight that came through her chamber windows passed through the translucent crystal, setting its jagged interior ablaze and casting the room in a myriad of colors. Every hue imaginable, glowing and shimmering and melting together in pools of light dancing across the walls.

It took Jessica a few moments to collect herself enough to tear her eyes away from the priceless gift. Tucked into the box beside the geode was a small parcel made of black velvet. Beside that, another letter.

She opened the parcel first. Gold coins fell shimmering into her palm, and she recognized the sharp glint of more wlysteel. They were smooth and thin, each embellished with a delicate carving of a heron on one side. More Ironian craftsmanship.

Putting the coins aside, she unfolded the letter and began to read:

In the religious teachings of the Old Ironian Gods, each person has not one face, but many—one face to wear for every person we meet throughout our lifetimes. The face we wear for our children is not the same one we wear for our parents, nor are either of those the same as the face we show to our lovers, our friends, our teachers, or our servants. Every face is different, but all are true, and it is the combination of these truths that make us who we are.

When I was choosing a face for you, Jessica, I chose incorrectly. For that, I sincerely apologize.

Over breakfast, I told you that I thought complete honesty between us was the best way to confront our situation. I still believe that. But it wasn’t fair of me to demand vulnerability and offer none in return. Unfortunately, my most successful relationships tend to be political. For those of a more personal nature, I tend to come up short.

Another point of interest: My maternal grandmother was the daughter of a Vidar Chieftain. My Dweller heritage is very important to me, and I observe as many of their ways as I can.

In the bag, you’ll find twelve gold coins. They are called forseti—wlysteel tokens from the forge of Clan Vidar. Coins of Truth, in the Dwellers’ tongue. They are often used when an outsider joins a Clan, or sometimes to resolve quarrels. The outsider brings forseti from their home forge and gives them to members of the Clan they wish to join. The Clan members will then give the forseti back to the new member, and ask a question. The new member is then honorbound to answer the question with absolute truth.

A coin for a truth. I have given you twelve.

Twelve forseti. Twelve questions. Twelve truths.

Of course, you have no reason to trust that I will abide by the Dweller code of honor. Although I have Dweller blood, I am not one. I don’t believe in gods, so I am not compelled by the Old Ironian Gods to answer truthfully. But I have no control of that. As a Bene Gesserit, I trust you will rely on your instincts and observation. All I ask for is your consideration.

~Rhia

Puzzled, Jessica sank down into a nearby chair to read the letter again. She stayed there for a long time, watching the patterns of light and color play lazily along the walls, thinking.

The relationship between wolves and ravens was a strange one. The ravens acted as the wolf's eyes, and the wolf provided meat. Ancient, divine mutualism in action.

At the old fortress of Valley Keep, the ravens were circling. Viggo knew that the wolf couldn't be far behind.

Usually, Viggo didn't mind the ravens. When the soldiers of the Badb were this comfortable occupying his home, it meant that Rhiannon was either also there, or would be soon.

There had been a time where he had looked forward to his lover's visits. At the beginning of the war, when the fighting had been in neighboring lands, he had seen her often. As the fifth son of House Taryn, which had submitted rather than fight, becoming the lover of the fearsome general was an acceptable way to broker influence where he otherwise would have had none.

And in all honesty, he had enjoyed the attention; had sorely been missing it - and her - since the war had drawn her away to the far reaches of the planet.

But then an old friend had arrived at his doorstep, ragged and begging to be taken in, and Viggo hadn't been able to refuse.

Eldon Vish was a good natured man ambling his way through his seventies. Good natured. Funny. Worthy of sympathy.

Many years ago, when Viggo was young, House Taryn had been an ally of House Nastaran. Eldon, a Nastaran advisor, had been the kind old man to take pity on the bored, lonely Viggo who had been dragged halfway across the planet just to be ignored while his father and older brothers played politics.

Viggo had never met his grandfather, but he liked to think that he would’ve been something like Eldon. Someone that would’ve taught him to play chess and told exciting stories while pretending not to notice the boy sneaking sips from his mug of ale.

Years had passed since those days, but Viggo still held them close to his chest.

Had it been an ordinary refugee, or even just an average enemy soldier, Viggo knew that Rhiannon wouldn't care. But it wasn't either, and therefore suicide.

Viggo hadn't seen Rhiannon in months. She had other lovers — enough of them for it to not be entirely unreasonable to think she had forgotten about him entirely. And it was that distance, and perhaps just a touch of jealousy, that had made him feel secure enough to take such a foolish risk.

But what was done was done. Now, the only thing that mattered was keeping both himself and Eldon alive.

Viggo strode purposefully through the halls of Valley Keep, trying very hard to not look panicked — maybe just as if he had important, normal business to attend to. Fifth son or not, he was still responsible for a great deal of his family's finances, and was typically very busy.

Viggo let himself into the room he had loaned to Eldon without knocking and was quick to lock it behind him.

"We don't have much time," Viggo said briskly, seeing that Eldon was still sitting at the small table with his half-eaten lunch. "There's a ground car waiting for you by the servant's entrance. If you leave now -- "

Blood.

So much blood.

Viggo dropped to his knees, his throat full of bile. Far too late, he realized that Eldon's corpse had not been the room's only occupant.

"You didn't have to kill him," Viggo protested weakly. "He was old. He wasn't a threat to you."

Rhiannon idly flicked through another page of Eldon's journals, hardly deigning to glance at him from where she sat at the room's tiny desk.

"The elderly have as much, if not more, influence than their successors," she said coolly. "You know that as well as anyone."

Viggo slumped forward as he felt all the fight drain out of him. "I'm sorry."

Rhiannon shot him a look. Viggo wished that there was anger in it. Betrayal. But it was worse than that. There was only annoyance. Boredom.

His heart broke. Viggo had shown that he was willing to get in her way, and he couldn't even do it in a way that mattered.

He was the fifth son. Nothing he had ever done in his life had mattered.

Despite the lingering bitterness, the thought of his family sent a spike of panic down his spine.

"It was just me," he said hurriedly. "No one helped me.”

"I know."

Of course she did.

"How did you find out?"

Rhiannon shot him another unimpressed look.

Viggo eased himself slowly to his feet. He tried not to look at Eldon's body. Failed. Viggo looked back to Rhiannon. "I loved you, you know."

She turned another page. "That isn't my fault."

Something cold pressed against Viggo's back. Pressed into his back between his shoulder blades. Not the direction he had expected his death to come from.

Viggo reached around behind him. His fingers bumped against something hard, but it was the wrong angle for him to grab it. He knew the wetness he felt was his own blood. There was no pain, which he supposed was a small mercy.

He glared at Rhiannon reproachfully as his vision swam. Not important enough for her to do it herself, then.

As his legs finally gave out and he slumped to the floor, he got a look at his murderer. The face was achingly familiar, and his heart broke all over again.

Chantria.

He tried to gasp his sister's name, but no sound came out. The raven tattoo on her forearm, dark with new ink, answered all his questions anyway.

Chantria knelt beside him. She fixed him with a look of sympathy, but there was no regret.

"I'm sorry," she said, lightly touching her fingers to his forehead. "But someone has to look out for our family's interests."

I'm family too, was the last thought Viggo had before he succumbed to swirling darkness.

I'm family too.

In theory, the Duke and Duchess’s departure from Caladan was a quiet affair, especially when compared to the pomp and grandeur that went into similar occasions hosted by other houses. In reality, it was as politically charged as any event of state.

Even if it was only by pilots, guards, and workmen, the senior members of House Atreides were being watched—and as loved as they were by the people they ruled, by nature, those people loved gossip more. 

So when they said their farewells, Jessica dressed nice and smiled warmly at Leto, regardless of the tension still lingering between them. Leto kissed the back of her hand, his eyes lined with sadness and regret, even though he wore a smile of his own. 

If Jessica wanted to keep her family safe from the She-wolf of the Badb, she would have to take matters into her own hands.

Lady Rhiannon was as lovely as ever, dressed in a delicate silver outfit that she had changed into only a few minutes before, having only just returned from paying her lover in the village one last visit.  She would likely change out of again once they were safely on board. 

Onlookers were eager for signs of drama between the Duchess and the Duke’s lover, but Jessica knew that, despite their differences, she and Rhiannon would not give them any. 

Rhiannon touched Jessica’s elbow lightly. Their eyes met, and Rhiannon’s gaze was unflinchingly open. Jessica was confused by the calm patience held in her expression. The gift, as well as the proposal, had gone unmentioned.

Jessica’s mind was still spinning. There was an opportunity here, if she had the courage to seize it.

The Bene Gesserit had infiltrated almost every house in the Imperium. They warmed the beds of noblemen; they mothered their children; they nudged history in the ways the Sisterhood wanted.

In this way, lonely men were easy to manipulate. They needed lovers. Confidants. The Sisters of the Bene Gesserit were trained to excel at both.

Rhiannon was dangerous, but so were many of the noblemen of the Imperium. Who was to say that Jessica couldn’t get close to Rhiannon in the same way? 

She thought it might be possible, now that she knew that the Duchess had a taste for women as well as men. Risky, yes. But possible.

Very risky.

Dare she even try?

She needed time to think.

Thankfully, she had just that. The Duke and Duchess’ absence would allow her both the time to think and space to start formulating a plan.

Leto held Paul close to his chest. He whispered something into his son’s ear that made the boy smile. Rhiannon rested a hand lightly on Paul’s shoulder, quirking an eyebrow at Khrysos, who peeked out at her from Paul’s collar. 

Rhiannon’s proposition had given her a good starting point. She would have to use her questions wisely.

Jessica wrapped her arm around her son’s shoulders, hugging him protectively to her side while they watched the Ducal yacht ease off the tarmac and away from Caladan. 

She thought that Paul noticed her unease. He looked up at her questioningly, but her only response was to hold him tighter.

It was worth the risk.

#duke leto atreides x reader #duke leto x reader #duke leto x oc #leto atreides i x reader #leto atreides x reader #duke leto atreides x oc #fanfiction #dune fanfiction #Duke leto Atreides i x reader

[wixxid]

IVORY  · PART I

Fandom: Dune

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Female OC

Words: 2,176

Warnings: dark themes and arranged marriage

Summary: An arrangement is forged between two apposing houses to save your world the cost of war.

Fear is the mind killer.

It snakes inside of you, twisting and strangling until bitter death. It’s an escapable pit of darkness. A place where light fears to tread and all life suffers. You feel it now, the deep ripple of dread as it slows your precious breath.

The laces of your corset are drawn tight, narrowing your passages even further. Your humble servants dress you in silence; their faces veiled in sheer fabric. They don’t dare speak on this occasion. It's ritualistic. The way they prepare you in lavish fabric and accessories the color of gold and deep crimson.

It marks your arrival.

A fiery sun, rising upon a dark and desolate planet; far from the one to which you were born. There is no green on Giedi Prime. There are no vast oceans or scraping mountains. Their world is shrouded in black and white, a monochromatic wasteland.

Metallic toxins ruin this world, while great machines plow the surface; devouring its resources like a hungry beast. You’ve not stepped foot on this sphere, and already you can feel the shift. It's quick to form a haze over your mind.

This is no place for you.

This isn’t the future you envisioned, but rather the one to which has been so cruelly dictated. It’s a strategic alignment that only the Bene Gesserit would dare to conjure. The task has been assigned, and now you must survive. Failure is unthinkable - unacceptable.

There is only the union.

A pact to save your world the cost of war.

Walking the grand gangway of the starship, your father lead at the head of the envoy; a steady hand rested on his sword. Gurney stood guard on your fathers’ side, whilst your servants trailed at yours. The rest of your family – your lady mother and older brother – had remained on Caladan.

It isn’t custom to have them in your company. It’s the father’s duty to relinquish the daughter, as an act of traditional and good faith; but this is merely a transaction. This is a trade of life for peace, and as much as you despise the fact, your opinion has no meaning in the era of entitled men.

Maintaining your line of vision, you try not to allow your gaze to wander too far from the site of your own kin. This place is foreign and cold, and it wreaks of violence. The instant you detected the small huddled committee of Harkonnen officials, all waiting for your arrival, you shivered in realization of your pitiful reality.

“We welcome you to Geidi Prime, Duke Leto.”

A particularly lanky man stood eerily emotionless as he received your house; dressed head to toe in black layers. It’s a stark contrast to his otherwise hairless and pale skin. It didn’t take long at all for you ascertain the being’s true nature. You could sense it. A twisted mentat who serves logic to his master.

“Where is he?” questioned your father, voice absent all formality and kindness. “Why is the Barron not here to greet us?”

“He awaits your arrival in the hall,” gestured the mentat. The way ahead is lined with armored Harkonnen soldiers; far from a warming embrace. “This way, if you will.”

The skeptical glance Gurney gave your father only serves to unease you more than you’d prefer. You know that look. You know the two men hold little to no trust for these people. They’re all savages. A race of violent individuals who’ve somehow thrived in their own wickedness.  

Several lifetimes ago, the two of your bloodlines crossed, but it’s hard to image their sinister race could ever be related to the likes of your own. In truth, the Harkonnen’s are the most alien of all the great houses; with their balding heads and pale flesh.

The archives can only tell you their past, but what you see all around is the present. It’s terrifying and with each step you take, you wonder how someone like you could possibly exist in their world. The back of your throat tightens, yet you shift to stand taller as you proceed to walk the grand hallway.

Pride keeps your strong, for now.

Despite the palace’s mega structure, you feel imprisoned within its steel walls; soon to be shackled by a vow. The mentat before you signaled two of the soldiers, bidding them to open the large doors of the hall. The smell of iron and soot wafted into your lungs; tainting them with every breath.

The room itself is expansive and minimalistic; eerily empty despite those occupying its space. The thick stream of light illuminated the foreboding figure which sat on the heightened, cushioned throne. You can hardly believe the sheer mass of the Barron, and yet it’s no kept secret.

“Duke,” spoke the deep voice of the Barron. The hulking man gestured outwardly with his hand, in what one could only presume to be a greeting of sorts. “Here you are – at last."

“We expected to be greeted on arrival,” replied father; clearly unimpressed with our reception to the planet. “We’ve travelled light years – and yet here you sit.”

“And there you stand, Cousin. Do we not greet each other now?”

The tension is palpable, and the seconds of silence feel more so like eternity. The duke’s bitterness hardly went unnoticed, and whilst others would try to correct themselves in fear of their lives, your father remains headstrong. The man's a pure representative of your family’s values, but he forgets.

This is their planet.

These are their rules.

It’s best you learn fast now, lest you shatter. If your family could offer no comfort here within your new life, then that leaves only yourself left to care. As the daughter of a duke and offspring to the sisterhood, your mind and body is its own protection.

The Bene Gesserit have governed you since you were a babe. They’ve showed you things few ever witness. They’ve taught you their ways, and now they’re to be the pillars of both the survival and success of this alliance. You are your only strength and weakness.

Observing the room, there’s only those of your own envoy and the close confidants of the Barron. Particularly, it’s hard to mistake the broad and brooding man standing to the left of his glutenous uncle. Rabban appears stiff, if not livid as he glares distantly at your father.  

Wide fists clench noticeably at his sides, displaying his obvious displeasure of the situation. Rabban can be described as simple minded, but a brute. He uses sheer force to conquer, and for that reason, he’ll gain nothing of any real value. Power is more than strength.

“Come,” spoke the Barron. “I want to see her.”

“Where is he?”

It drew you to realize your father’s pointed absence of the man in question. You’ve only ever known your suiter by name and reputation. Feyd-Rautha. Ambitious and psychotic. You wouldn’t know his face to pick it from the rest.

“Is it your nephew’s intention to insult my daughter, or was he simply not made aware of our arrival?”

The Barron gave a low groan, his tongue tisking against his grey teeth whilst he leant into his throne. A clear sign of impatience. This is the Barron's most inner dominion and so far, your father has only defied his every will and word without hesitation.

Stepping forward, you moved with steady purpose upon your intention to diffuse the rising hostility. Gurney is the first to stop you with an outstretched hand, only for your father to intervene. Despite his reluctance, the duke knows this is an alliance even he can’t afford to break.

Amusement shone in the Barron's eyes upon your willing approach. Ascending the slabbed staircase, you watch as the silk donned man rose eerily from his seat. The mechanical and unnatural elevation of his large body caused you to stop.

“There you are,” he grinned as he hovered closer. “Bold, just like your father.”

The Barron's thick limbs reached out, slowly lifting the veil that sheltered your face. In all these years of residing within each other’s existence, the two of you had never met until now. Gazing up at him, you saw his pale and wrinkled face morph from intrigue to impassive.

He gave a low hum, “And so we meet.”

The way his eyes roam over your face and body feels more analytical, rather than that of a perverse nature. You aren’t entirely sure if he’s disappointed or curious. The room turns silent, and everyone waits with bated breath for what the Barron will do next.

“You’re prettier than I imagined,” he announced. Hovering away from you, he slowly sat himself back onto the cushioned seat of his throne. “No matter the sort, beauty is a rare site to be had on Geidi Prime. It certainly doesn’t last for long.”

“She's to be unharmed,” interjected your father. The protectiveness in his voice is further stated with the underlying hiss of a threat. “As soon as she’s with child, she’s to be escorted back to Caladan.”

“Nonsense!” boomed the Barron. “If your daughter is to marry my nephew, then she’s to remain on Geidi Prime.”

“If?”

Turning, you faced your father to see his angered expression. Despite the intimidating and strange aura of this planet, the site of your father is still apposing. Standing in full uniform, you know with time and familiarity that the duke won’t accept or backdown.

“My nephew can be stubborn. Youth is so often irrational.” Shifting in his seat, the Barron sighed whilst narrowing his gaze. “As suited as she may be, your daughter isn’t the only hand of worth within House Major.”

“I see,” scoffed your father. “Then you’d willingly allow yourself to break law and dishonor the name Harkonnen? The Benne Gess –.”

“Witches and spies!” cursed the Barron. “I’ll not have them dictate the future of my house!”

“And I’ll not have you shame mine! Feyd-Rautha will take my daughters hand in marriage, as agreed. House Atreides holds not only political power, but the largest arsenal in the whole of the empire,” he boasted with intent. “There is no other of worth.”

Immediately, your gaze lowered with his proclamation. It's difficult to hear your father defend your house, whilst also acting to secure a marriage neither of you desire; but he does it for the people. It's his responsibility and your duty, but even still, you can't help but feel betrayed.

“Then you have my word. Let our houses be united once more," smirked the Barron. The mentat was summoned forward, “Piter will escort your daughter to her chambers. I won’t bore her with the concerns of politics."

As quickly as you arrived within the Barron's presence, you were now dismissed from the huge hall. Daughters aren’t privy to such discussions, but you know to what it will most likely pertain. You know there’s terms and conditions to matches as important as this one.

Lowering your veil once again, you headed down the steps to the awaiting mentat; who’s now no longer nameless. Piter walked steadily in lead, and whilst you couldn’t interact with your father in this moment, the two of you locked eyes in passing.

Despite the tragedy of your new circumstance, he'll always have your best interest at heart. At the very least, he’ll fight for your comfort and safety within the confines of your new home. He’d never travel the galaxy, let alone leave you behind if he didn’t think you would be safe.

“This way.”

Piter turned the corner, and soon you felt as if you were being burrowing into the bowls of the abyss. There's no windows this far into the heart of the palace. You’re cut off from all aspects of nature, and all that’s left is a labyrinth of metal and synthetic light; producing a warm yet sterile glow.

“This one’s for you,” he spoke monotonously as we stopped outside of a doorway. “You’ll be called upon later in the evening.”

Piter went to leave before you decided to speak, “Where is he?”

The man showed reluctance before turning to face you. Clasping his hands, those dull eyes stared into you as he asked, “Whom do you refer?”

“What are you, if not calculative?”

The mentat's face shifted at your taunt. Stepping forward, he appeared serious. “The two of you have yet to meet, but certainly enough you will.” Piter waved a hand over the doorway consol. “Embrace what peaceful moments remain.”

A quick turn, and you stood watching as the mentat traversed back down the lengthy corridor. Piter’s words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. It's a warning. Perhaps even a threat. You've heard too much to think it's not.

Despite the sheer vastness of space, it’s whispers which travel the fastest. Feyd-Rautha is a name that’s passed by your ears on more than one occasion. Stories or truth. You’ve heard the court recount his cunningness and brutality.

You've heard him in your dreams.

It bleeds you with fear, and fear is the mind killer.

#fanfic #female oc #dune #dune part two #dune 2024 #story #feyd #feyd rautha #feyd x female oc #house harkonnen #feyd-rautha x female oc #feyd x you #Atreides!Female OC

[ofsappho]

THE KNIFE OF MUAD'DIB (Paul x OC!Reader x Chani) Part III: Duncan

Wherein na-Duke Paul Atreides is not the Bene Gesserit's only prospect for the Kwisatz Haderach. Raised by Paul's side as his playmate and servant, Chryse, the Bene Gesserit's cuckoo child, will forge a new future for her master.

(previously posted on AO3 as Themis)

(Note: I invented some stuff/added some new terminology to make up for worldbuilding that didn't happen in canon. If you have questions just send me an ask!)

PART III: DUNCAN

Duncan did not consider himself an unnecessarily stubborn man. Though he was initially wary of including Lady Jessica’s young Bene Gesserit handmaiden in Paul’s combat training, a year had proven that Paul flourished with the addition of a sparring opponent who matched him in strength and size.

One, two, three. His pupils’ current sparring bout played out in front of him in the training room. The sound of each blow and each block echoed off the walls like a heartbeat. “Arms up, Paul.” Duncan cautioned.

At the reminder, the youth straightened up and his gangly arms, now starting to finally bulk out to Paul’s poorly-hidden satisfaction, came up to properly defend his head and torso. His black curls stuck to his forehead with sweat while a fierce expression furrowed his young brow.

That expression brought a fond smile to Duncan’s face. Paul’s father looked like that when he fought.

Since he had added full contact sparring to Paul’s training, Duncan was pleased to note that the boy continued to earn that privilege with his devotion to every lesson. His scrawny charge appeared early in the training room with eagerness written across his open face every day.

Of course, he still got into mischief and roped his companion into it frequently - that was just Paul’s way. His attitude had greatly improved since that final, fateful temper tantrum and since his lady mother enlisted that girl into her household.

At twelve, Paul had begun to settle into the features that Duncan imagined he would retain into adulthood. Though he could hardly match his tutor in stature or build now, he was growing like a weed. The boy would easily be as tall as him one day, if not taller.

He could still remember the squirming little bundle Leto had pressed into his arms mere hours after Paul’s birth. When the infant’s eyes had met his, he saw the same emerald green eyes of the Duke and his father before him. Duncan felt privileged to have been able to watch that baby grow into a capable, earnest boy.

Paul was, in a way, the son of his heart.

Even though he seemed to be growing into the very image of his father, Duncan could see himself in Paul too. When he was only a toddler, Paul did his very best to imitate the swordmaster’s mannerisms. That child had been so sincere that all who saw him couldn’t help but chuckle.

Now, Paul had grown to unconsciously mimic the way Duncan carried himself, the length of his stride, the way he gestured with his hands. There was no better legacy the warrior wished to leave behind than this youth, a true child of the three of them - Leto, Jessica, and Duncan.

He had taken to combat with the same ease his father had, at nearly the same age, the swordmaster thought as he watched with fondness and pride. Paul darted, quick as a hunter-seeker, past Chryse’s strikes only to counter with his own.

That his liege had entrusted Paul’s training to him was a great honor. The boy in front of him, fighting with a keenness much older than his age, could yet match his noble father in excellence. Whether or not Paul would exceed him remained to be seen.

One did not so easily clear the bar set by Leto Atreides. The Ginaz swordmaster remembered how at newly fifteen, coral disk in hand, he had been sent to join Duke Mintor Atreides’ household and accompany his son and heir, na-Duke Leto Atreides. 

His lord had always been different. Leto had been a mere teenager when they first met, itching to prove his might against the Harkonnens in battle, yet he was wise and principled in a way that Duncan had never known.

Ginaz built master swordsmen and tacticians, not people. Not lords.

After their first spar, after the way Leto clasped his hand and pulled him up from the ground after the na-Duke had sent him sprawling, Duncan knew he would follow that man to the edge of the Imperium and beyond.

There might have been shame and failure in defeat at the hands of a different man. There was no shame in his heart when Leto raised him up, as there was no shame in bowing to the might of the wind.

Later that night, Leto had clasped their calloused hands together, and Duncan remembered thinking, he is half of my soul.

Even the Emperor knew of the then na-Duke Leto’s integrity and the effortless way he commanded respect and loyalty. Thufir Hawat, the most fearsome Mentat in the Imperium, had sworn his fealty to Leto as he had to Mintor and Paulos. The legendary bard-warrior, Gurney Halleck, was plucked out of the Harkonnen slave-pits by Leto and pledged his life to him in return.

The Duke earned every ounce of allegiance given to him.

From that first day on, the Ginaz swordmaster knew he would follow House Atreides until the end of his life. For what was glory, if not serving Leto and his family with all Duncan had? To give his life over to the keeper of his soul?

He would die for his lord without question. The Duke knew this and pressed a more difficult task upon the swordmaster - to live for him, should Leto die first, so that Duncan could protect Paul.

One, two, three. The two children danced around each other on the floor mats before Paul pushed Chryse back far enough that she could not reach him without an answering attack that would do real damage. She stopped for a moment, her gaze darting around the room to catalog everything like a Mentat, and waited for Paul to catch his breath.

“Again,” Duncan commanded, his voice harsher than it should be.

A sigh escaped him at the sight of her barely concealed flinch. He really shouldn’t have barked at her like that. Chryse had never done anything to Paul or Duke Leto. Her presence had lifted Paul’s spirits and challenged him to strive further by all accounts, including his own. The retainer watched the children fight a while longer before halting practice for the day. The two of them gathered cups of water and returned to the mat to stretch, Paul’s carefree chatter filling the room.

Duncan had only lived this long through trusting in his instincts. Around Bene Gesserit, his instincts told him that there was something terribly wrong with these women.

All that said, he and Jessica had come to a consensus many years ago over their shared lord and lover. She made Leto happy. When the woman presented his soulmate with a son and heir, the Duke had never been more pleased. Duncan would die to protect that happiness. He would never go so far as to call her a friend, but they were cordial with one another, and he served and protected her as was his duty.

Though it didn’t matter how cordial and respectful she was to the swordmaster or how many smiles she brought to Leto’s face, Duncan trusted any member of her order about as far as he could throw one.

Her little handmaiden unnerved him in the same way they did.

The day Chryse joined her household, Jessica had pulled him aside. He remembered being taken aback by the wild, desperate fear in her eyes. That smooth voice of hers had only the barest quiver when she informed him of the girl that the Imperial truthsayer delivered in-person to Caladan.

At her words, the swordmaster straightened up while one of his hands strayed to the long sword, sheathed at his belt. “Is she going to pose a threat?” He growled out. That truthsayer be damned. The whole Bene Gesserit be damned. He would protect Leto and Paul at any cost.

He counted the time she took to respond in heartbeats. With each beat that passed, ire set deeper into his bones, and he stepped closer to the lady to press for her answer.

Jessica looked away from Duncan to her pale hands as if examining the tendons that lay beneath the skin. In the moment before she answered, her imperious expression twisted into what looked like shame. Duncan blinked, and the guilt was gone so fast, he wondered if he’d imagined it. 

“...No.”

Their gazes met. He trusted her to protect their family. Jessica knew that. While her trepidation alone was enough to mark this unknown girl as a threat in Duncan’s mind, he had faith that Jessica would never let anyone bring harm to House Atreides. To Leto.

Duncan perused her face, looking for any hint of a lie. She seemed truthful enough. “Alright.” He stepped back. That was hardly a satisfactory answer, but Duncan would let it lie as Jessica was indiscernible once more.

She neatly tucked her hands behind her back, out of his sight. “Her name is Chryse. She is to be my handmaiden when she grows older, but for now, I’d like her to accompany Paul to his sparring lessons with you.” Duncan knew Jessica well enough to know when she was giving a command, one framed diplomatically as a request.

The urge to refuse that command was strong, but he instantly understood what she meant under her poised words. Jessica would never jeopardize Paul and Leto by allowing a known threat into their house. This girl was an unknown. Should anything happen under his supervision, Jessica knew he would protect Paul. Duncan did not doubt that she’d arranged other minders for the little handmaiden when he wouldn’t be there.

He would obey his lady’s command, and the two of them would guard Paul against this unknown.

Chryse was quiet, quieter than any child of her age he’d ever known. They had met for the first time when a giddy Paul had dragged her behind him, both to show off his new companion and to seek Duncan’s approval.

She and Jessica shared the same placid countenance that all Bene Gesserit had, a countenance that unnerved him every time he experienced it. The ice in her face only melted when Paul looked to her to ensure her attention during one of his rambles about the latest filmbook he’d seen or when Paul asked her some sort of open-ended question with the bright curiosity of a young child.

When anyone set choices in front of her, the girl seemed overwhelmed and lost. Chryse shied away from decisions, and Paul seemed to enjoy earnestly guiding her through them, even if he hadn’t entirely realized he was doing so. Duncan was grateful Paul didn’t have an ounce of selfishness or ill-intent towards her, for her sake.

There was something wrong with her. The swordmaster was sure of it, and that surety set him on edge. Duncan had observed her during their first lesson - when Chryse fought, Duncan felt that combat was intrinsic to her and required no conscious effort on her part. As if she was constructed instead of raised.

Halleck’s beloved Orange Catholic Bible came to mind. Thou shalt not make a machine in the likeness of a human mind.

Hunter-seekers were constructed for combat, too, though those machines had to be operated by someone else, somewhere else. He feared that someone, somewhere, was operating this girl.

Duncan Idaho knew that time was not an enemy, unlike what many other men thought. It was an ally. So he waited, and he watched.

Of course, Duncan had sparred with her himself before so much as letting her near Paul with a bokken. The girl-child didn’t only land one hit - she landed many. She left bruises. For a few moments during the fight, he almost stopped seeing her as a child in his care, not more than ten standard years old. Chryse was another enemy, another Harkonnen or Sardaukar, and Duncan Idaho couldn’t see past that until she was sprawled on the training mat beneath him, the tip of his bokken under her small jaw. One particularly forceful blow and he’d have broken her neck. The child hadn’t responded or whispered a word in protest. She merely continued to look up at Duncan with her large, guileless eyes, like a calf going to slaughter.

In the year since their first meeting, Chryse had managed to put his initial fears to rest. She had a very marked reluctance to physically injure Paul when the two of them sparred and would go out of her way to avoid doing so, even if that action put her at a disadvantage. It frustrated the boy to no end, but Duncan preferred it to the alternative. There were no threats or thwarted assassination attempts from her or anyone else. It seemed like the only people who held Chryse’s reins were them.

But Duncan was not completely heartless. The more time she spent with Paul, the less overwhelmed she seemed. Chryse’s movements were still uncanny, but he watched her slowly become more like a child and less like a weapon, like a winter melted into spring. The girl tended towards a rather endearing wide-eyed naïveté and innocent wonder.

The two of them had grown since their first meeting in directions that complimented the other. Paul wasn’t nearly as restless and dissatisfied as he had been. She grounded him and made him happy in a way the adults in his life simply couldn’t. The boy had continued to guide and nurture her, and Chryse had continued to trust in him enthusiastically. They reminded Duncan of the young vines Jessica tended to in the gardens, intrinsically and unconsciously intertwined as they reached for the sun.

Time was an ally. Duncan had time to continue watching her and ensure she wouldn’t grow into her potential as a threat. Paul had time to grow into his potential as a soldier, a warrior who could defend himself.

A servant appeared in the doorway. “Pardon me, Sir. Lady Jessica requests her handmaiden’s assistance in her presence-chamber.” He nodded his assent quickly and gestured for Chryse to follow after the attendant. The girl hesitated for a moment, seemingly ill at ease. Duncan didn’t miss her unease or the way she tamped down on it with force.

Paul had rounded on Duncan as soon as she’d left without a backward glance, endearingly chattering on about their lesson. “I think I did better today with the grappling? I’m trying-” For the moment, the swordmaster would put away his concerns, and he turned his attention to the boy in front of him.

Paul attempted to duck away from Duncan’s hand but failed to avoid a fond ruffle of his dark hair. “You did well, Paul.” The retainer didn’t give out empty praise - Duncan knew his honesty would benefit Paul the most. Chryse was unnervingly quick at picking up the forms and throws she learned, but Paul even now had a bright mind that could anticipate her moves in advance and adjust instantly to compensate. He had an innate control of every spar; there again, Duncan could see Leto in him. 

“I’m proud of you.”

Paul stopped short at his words. He looked then like the small child Paul had been, a child who clung to Duncan’s every word and often looked for his approval and attention. Before he could respond, the tutor continued. “Listen to me. I know you know that one day, you must be Duke Atreides. To you, that seems far away and impossible right now.” Duncan could see Paul’s uncertainty whenever his future as the Duke was brought up as clear as day, for all of the boy’s feigned confidence and maturity.

The Dukedom was his by right of birth. But the potential and capability to be a great man, a great leader, a great Duke; that was all Paul. No great ancestor or accomplished relative could have given Paul that. While the boy didn’t have an inherently boastful or vain temperament, Paul lacked true confidence in spades. Without it, he would fail.  “I have never lied to you, and I do not intend to start now. When that time comes, you will be deserving of it. I promise you.”

The boy grew somber at the weight behind Duncan’s words, and his green eyes stayed fixed on the man’s face.

The Harkonnens circled ever closer, their military might backed by the obscene riches they drained from Arrakis. 

At the emperor’s command, Leto had been called before the Landsraad that week to negotiate a dispute between their quadrant and an adjacent quadrant.

The Great Houses under Leto’s jurisdiction as Warden of Centaurus Quadrant had risen against the Great Houses of Bode Quadrant. The skirmishes grew bloodier by the day. If House Atreides could not keep the peace, the emperor wouldn’t hesitate to strip them of the wardenship. Padishah Shaddam IV looked for every chance to undermine Leto.

The moment they finished in the training room, Duncan planned to head straight to the war chamber to coordinate the deployment of Atreides troops to the many planets under their dominion, under Leto’s orders. Ideally, they would halt the bloodshed entirely, but judging from the most recent intelligence from Hawat, protracted disputes were the more realistic outcome.

As sheltered as his childhood was, Paul had only known peace. Duncan did not doubt that peace would be in shorter supply when the boy reached the age of majority. Dukehood was his right, and Paul needed to know it. Belief in that right was all that stood between him and his possible destruction.

Paul straightened up under Duncan’s gaze. “Leading our House is your right, Paul. It is what you are owed. You need to own it.” Steel settled in the boy’s gaze, and Duncan grew pleased at the sight of it. Paul would take his words to heart.

When Paul responded, his voice seemed to echo off the walls with a gravity that far outstripped his age. “I understand.” There were still a million and one different ways the boy could falter, and hundreds of thousands of other factors that might end their House. 

But the youth standing before him wore an expression of ancient understanding, some otherworldly wellspring of memory and experience. There was no reasonable explanation for how Paul had come to that understanding right here, right now, but it was so intrinsic that Duncan didn’t question it at the moment.

The moment between them passed, and the peculiar awareness that had taken over this twelve-year-old boy went with it. What in the Imperium had just happened?

As if nothing odd had occurred, Paul bowed as he always did at the end of sparring lessons. “May I be excused?” Duncan silently nodded and watched as Paul dashed from the room, no doubt in search of his mother or Gurney Halleck, or off to his room to put on another one of those filmbooks he liked so much.

The swordmaster had felt the same distinctive unease around Paul that he felt around Bene Gesserit. Duncan knew how to pick his battles, though, and the boy seemed fine and, most importantly, safe enough. Under Jessica’s careful eye, Paul was not likely to harm himself somehow with… whatever that was. It would suffice for now, and later Duncan would press Jessica into a conversation about what sort of alien mess her religious cult had undoubtedly dragged Paul into. While he didn’t have any proof those witches were involved, it seemed highly unlikely that they didn’t have anything to do with it.

If he needed to guard Paul against himself, he would do it. Right now, though, Duncan had a more pressing priority of holding the quadrant together so Leto could return from the Landsraad safely and in victory.

He could feel a headache building behind his eyes. With a resigned sigh, Duncan left the training room.

Ah yes the iconic queer dynamic of "lord and the knight who would die for him and the lord's lady)

Tagging: @redskull199987@itsemy01@blahzaiblahsheep@herebereblogs @spacenotwar @assorted-fandom-things @hogwartshouse @mylenne-16

#dune #the dune books #dune books #dune movie #dune 1 #dune part 1 #dune part 2 #paul atreides #chani #paul atreides x you #paul atreides x reader #timothee chalamet #lady jessica #paul x chani #paul atreides x chani #paul atreides x you x chani #dune fanfiction #the knife of muad'dib #duncan idaho #leto atreides x duncan idaho #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you

[cletimz]

|Glimpses of Reality |

Stilgar Ben Fifrawi x OC Fem

WC: 1153

The sound of children’s laughter filled the Atreides Castle, the future heir and the young apprentice of his mother were playing together as the elders discussed the next and most favorable moves for House Atreides.

“Did you find it?” Paul asked as she was looking around for the butterfly they had been chasing. Mileena shook her head “I believe it left to the gardens. We can try to search in there” Paul nodded and the two of them got back to their initial task of catching the butterfly.

Jessica Atreides was looking at them playing from the balcony of the Duke’s office. She was doubting between ending their game as the girl needed to keep her Bene Gesserit training or let them play as her son looked happy at the moment. She chose the second one, she would always choose Paul’s happiness.

“Is it not time for Paul to train his sword skills and Mileena to continue training with you?” The Duke asked as he joined his partner outside of his office. Jessica stumbled a little bit “I thought you were still inside discussing whatever matters those old men bring to you” Leto laughed at her response. “We finished early as expected. I was hoping to attend Paul’s training but I think he’s quite busy right now” The Duke nodded his head to point at the two kids that were jumping in order to catch the butterfly that was flying above their heads.

Jessica laughed and continued observing the two children. When she accepted to train Mileena Almad, she merely did it as the Reverend Mother asked her to do it, and a Bene Gesserit would never deny any petition from her. However, it seems that this was the right choice as the girl immediately connected with her son. She was his first friend from his age; she would not remind him of the duties he has as the Duke’s son like most people do, she was a breath of fresh air to the pressure her son felt.

“Are you still against the arrangement between Mileena and Paul?” He asked as he could not find a reason to explain the negativity from Jessica to this arrangement. “They get along together. When they are older, they will make a happy marriage” Jessica denied with her head “That’s where you are wrong. They will fall in love but not with each other. They will never see each other as their lover” The Duke frowned when he heard that “How would you know that? They live together and will continue this way for more years. It is highly possible that they eventually will look at each other with more than friendship intentions”

She sighed and moved inside to the door of the office to get Mileena to continue her training “I can not speak about Paul as he does not talk to me about certain matters. However, Mileena is always talking to me about the dreams she has. There is a man in her future and it is not Paul” She answered as she closed the door of the office and headed to the garden to get Mileena and Paul to do their duties.

Even if she would show support for this arrangement, she knew the Reverent Mother would not approve it. They held another plan for Mileena and Paul. Jessica Atreides can only rescue one of them from the hands of the Bene Gesserit, and once again, she would choose her son’s happiness above anything.

————————————————————

Time skip (Time period of Dune 1)

————————————————————

There she was, back to this place which has become familiar as she always found herself at it in her dreams.

The hot temperatures and the infinity sand could make any foreigner get on their knees and cry for help to get back home. However, this was not her case. This place was her home, she could feel how her body got along with the sand and became one rhythm. Mileena could not be happier. She finally found peace.

Someone approached her from behind. She already knew who it was by feeling his hands over hers and hugging her body. “You need to get back to sleep, we will leave in a few hours” She rolled her eyes slightly and let out a small laugh at the typical protective behavior from him. “I know and I also know that I can not miss this magnificent view of the sunrise” He kissed her cheek and caressed her growing belly “He might not think the same. I am pretty sure he would prefer his mother to be sleeping right now” Mileena laughed at his response “He likes the sunrises just like his mother” He smiled as he imagined the three of them together. They stayed in that posture for a few minutes until he talked again “Let’s get back inside to rest until everyone wakes up” She nodded supporting his suggestion and when she was about to turn around and look at the man who would always caress her in every dream, she woke up.

She let out a whine of frustration as once again, she could not see the face of the man who was always with her. Mileena tried to get back to rest but it was impossible. She needs an answer to who this man is, the man whom she has always been dreaming about. She decided to get out of her bed as her thoughts filled her mind and she needed a glass of water.

The last person Mileena would like to face on her way to the kitchens in the middle of the night was Jessica Atreides “You are not supposed to be wandering the hallways at this hour. It is dangerous” Mileena stopped in her tracks and turned around to look at her “Castle Atreides has great security. Besides, any fool would dare to attack me taking into account who was my master” The older Bene Gesserit let out a small laugh and nodded at her response “That is correct, it stills intrigued what are you doing awake at this hour? Another dream perhaps?” Mileena denied it with her head “I was reading some books Paul got me yesterday about Arrakis and the Fremen. I lost track of time and I decided to get a glass of water before going to bed”

Jessica knew she was lying. She knew the girl did not want to talk about her dreams anymore, this started when Mileena got older and realized the context in which she is. She needed answers to her questions and nobody would give them to her. She wished to know who her mother was, and why she is always dreaming about that place and that man. The Bene Gesserit preferred to keep these answers away from her as they could be a trouble to the plans they have for her. “I supposed I would not interfere in your way. It is good you are learning about the Fremen and Arrakis. We will be there in a few days and we need to be prepared. You know you can tell me anything, Mileena. I am here for you” The girl thanked her and continued on her way.

She hoped she could believe her as she did when she was younger, things would be easier for her.

Omg this is the first fic I’ever written and it's not even on my first language😭I hope you like it and if you don’t bye bye 🤫🧏🏽‍♀️

#stilgar x reader #dune #stilgar

[eve18ahs]

The Baroness

Feyd Rautha Harkonnon x OC( Cassandra Atreides)

Chapter 1:The girl in green

Most people who were wise, feared any Harkonnon person. Anyone but Cassandra Atreides, Daughter of Leto and Jessica Atreides and older sister to Paul Atreides.

She was quiet but there was a war in her mind. So when Leto planed to marry Cassandra off to the Harkonnon Baron's nephew Feyd Rautha Harkonnon, she delt with her inner chaos.

She hid the truth of having constant nightmares from her family but something told her that her baby brother already knew and she trusted him enough not to let the cat out of the bag.

What Cassandra didn't know was that the Harkonnons would be guests in her family home. She was very worried, the Harkonnon people were not to be trifled with, they are monsters,as her father and friends say.

One morning, Leto came into her room and told her the Harkonnons were coming that very day, and with their fast resources, they could be there within an hour at most.

She rushed to put up her hair and put on a beautiful green dress. She looked in the mirror " God,I hope I survive this shit." She whispered to herself.

She went down stairs to see her mother, father, and brother standing there, anxiety written on their faces. She went over to Paul,"Hey, we are gonna be ok. I'm doing this for the better like Mom said." Her brother nodded" I'm just worried for you, the Harkonnon people aren't very kind, and I couldn't live with myself if I lost you, to an asshole like Feyd Rautha."

His words sank in. She knew her brother just wanted the best for her and for that she was eternally grateful to him." I love you, baby brother, always. If I get killed I'll come back in spirit and haunt you." She joked. Her brother gave a weak smile." I love you too, sis."

"Boom boom boom" it was the door. They were here. Leto got the door and allowed the Baron, the future Baron and his brother in. Cassandra turned around to see the three bald men.

Only one seemed remotely attractive. He was tall, not overly muscular but certainly not skinny like a pencil. He had blue eyes and a smirk painting on his annoyingly gorgeous face. The smirk said something to her.

"Oh fuck! He's Feyd Rautha." Cassandra thought to herself. It seemed that keeping herself away from him would become nearly impossible to do.

Feyd Rautha wore black, as most Harkonnon people do. His uncle was absolutely ugly and disgusting, she wouldn't mind ripping his head off. The third man, Feyd's brother, Rabban was muscular but he wasn't mysteriously gorgeous but he wasn't ugly.

Feyd met his eyes to Cassandra's eyes before his gaze slid down her body. He was intimidating but she wouldn't give in like any girl would. She had morals...or at least she hoped she did.

" Welcome to house of Atreides." Her father said. This was going to be a long day for everyone. She hoped that this was going to be a decent day but Feyd Rautha seemed to want to make her day tough by the look on his face.

#dune 2 #Feyd Rautha #fanfic #feyd rautha x oc #austin butler

[ladyxskywalker]

July 2022 (part two)

fandoms featured on this list; moon knight, pedro pascal characters, the batman, the amazing spider man, bridgerton, oscar isaac, charlie hunnam, the originals / tvd, & misc./multi fandom 💫

thank you to the amazing fic writers for sharing some wonderful stories with all of us ! & to the kind readers for their support. 💙

please assume that all works & the blogs they belong to are 18+ only

mature adult content will be marked with a double asterisk **

be sure to check all warnings & tags before reading, feel free to skip if something isn't for you

& of course, enjoy responsibly

all the love xo A ☕

✨️ apologies for this month’s list being a little shorter than usual ! I had some things going on, so some of these are comfort reads, & repeats that I’ve read again, new things I’ve read, or various series that I’ve started. hope you enjoy ! & happy reading ! 🤗

please send me things to read ! favorite fics or something you've written that you're proud of ! 💌

find more monthly fic recs over on my masterlist, Aug 2022 coming soon ! ✨

please let me know if you would like to be removed

✨ new authors & characters added for the first time !

✨ some authors are mentioned more than once throughout the list, check to see if your works are there !

MOON KNIGHT

✨ Jake Lockley

Six Stops by @lcvenderblues (gn!reader)

Love in Bloom, & Sunday Kind of Love by @egcdeath

✨ Marc Spector

Happy Birthday by @writingforcurrentobsessions

✨ Steven Grant

Spirals And Skin by @clints-lucky-arrow (artist!steven) (tattooed!f!reader) **

Tilt, Shift, & Balance by @the-little-ewok (steven x f!reader, marc x f!reader) **

Who Wouldn’t Want That? & Darling, I Fancy You by @yespolkadotkitty (f!reader)

PEDRO PASCAL

✨ Ezra (Prospect)

Clarity by @ezrasbirdie (dentist!ezra universe) (f!reader) **

Daze by @iamskyereads (slice of life) (domestic ezra universe) (prof!f!reader) (cw: children) **

In the Dark (series) by @frannyzooey (cw: age gap) (f!reader) **

Where the Foxglove Grows by @mandoblowmybackout (plus size, neurodivergent, f!reader)

✨ Jack (Agent Whiskey) Daniels

Tangled Up (series) by @writeforfandoms (dragon rancher au) (f!reader)

✨ Marcus Pike

Desperado by @writeforfandoms (f!reader)

Starting Over (series) by @wardenparker , & @absurdthirst (f!reader) (cw: pregnancy, divorce)

✨ Oberyn Martell

Yes, I do? by @toomanystoriessolittletime (modern au) (escort!oberyn) (f!reader)

✨ Pero Tovar

Full Moon Confessions by @artemiseamoon (f!reader)

Risk by @forever-rogue (f!reader) (cw: pregnancy mention) **

✨ The Thief (Casillero del Diablo)

The Painting by @forever-rogue (f!reader)

✨ Misc. Pedro Pascal Characters

Euclidean Geometry by @leslie-lyman (modern au) (poly!relationship) (f!reader) **

How Did You Love (series) by @writeforfandoms (f!reader)

MISC./MULTI FANDOM

✨ Alfred Pennyworth (The Batman)

Penny For Your Thoughts (series) by @eupheme (cw: age gap, daddy kink) (f!reader) **

✨ The Amazing Spider Man (Andrew Garfield)

Approach Shift (series) by @psithurista (f!reader) **

Beautiful Distraction by @flightlessangelwings (gn!reader) **

✨ Bridgerton (Benedict Bridgerton)

Truth Unseen by @make-me-imagine (gn!reader)

✨ Bud Cooper (Oscar Isaac, Suburbicon 2017)

A Softer Side by @leiakenobi (f!reader) **

✨ Clash of the Titans (Draco, Mads Mikkelsen)

Of Gods and Men (series) by @KrystalFlare on fanfiction.net (draco x goddess oc) **

✨ Cobra Kai (Johnny Lawrence)

Challenger by @SecretSecret on ao3 (f!reader) **

✨ Duke Leto Atreides (Oscar Isaac, Dune)

The Sun on Your Skin by @writefightandflightclub (gn!reader) (touch starved reader)

✨ Joel Miller (The Last of Us)

Safe With You by @flightlessangelwings (f!reader)

Under the Cherry Blossom Trees by @flightlessangelwings (fluff, angst) (gn!reader)

✨ John Watson (Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows)

The Doctor Is In by @cinewhore (black!f!reader) **

✨ The Originals / The Vampire Diaries

An Act That Brought You Joy (series) by @Merontheshore on ao3 (elena gilbert x klaus mikaelson, elena x elijah mikaelson, elena x kol mikaelson) **

The Artist (series) (a choose your own outcome story) by @brittishmenorbust on ao3 (f!reader)

Bienvenue (series) by @Merontheshore on ao3 (klaus mikaelson x ofc) (kol mikaelson x ofc) (elijah mikaelson & ofc) **

Endlessly Enough (series) by @brittishmenorbust on ao3 (damon salvatore x f!reader)

Labyrinth: A Bonnie Bennett x Klaus centric universe (series) by @artemiseamoon (bonnie bennett x klaus mikaleson) **

✨ Raymond Smith (Charlie Hunnam, The Gentlemen)

Right Hand Woman by @autumnleaves1991-blog (f!reader) **

✨ Rick Flag (DC, Joel Kinnaman)

Motivation by @loverhymeswith (f!reader)

✨ Roswell New Mexico (2019) (Alex Manes x Micheal Guerin)

here everyone knows (you’re the way to my heart) by @catchingpapermoons on ao3 (malex) **

** be sure to check out part one for star wars, the mandalorian, kenobi, rogue one, & triple frontier fic recs 📖

#moon knight fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #tasm fanfiction #dune fanfiction #the originals fanfiction #oscar isaac character fanfiction #charlie hunnam character fanfiction #misc. multi fandom #pxk monthly fic recs 💫 #pxk monthly reading list 💌