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fandomxpreferences · 11 months

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Two Lines, Two Idiots Chapter Nine: I'm Uncomfy When People Do Nice Things

Series Masterlist

Pairing:Rafe Cameron x Maybank!reader, Twin!JJ Maybank x reader

TW:pregnancy, mild trauma (?), I think thats it

Summary: Rafe proves just how far he's willing to go to take care of you.

Word Count:2k

A/N: Listen, I did minimal editing on this so just ignore any typos okay

To say you've been stressed is an understatement. At nearly twenty-eight weeks pregnant, the clock is ticking and each second that you don't have a plan worked out feels a little more like you're suffocating.

Rafe has just gotten you back to a relatively normal state; making sure you get enough sleep and eat to your heart's content. However, despite your flare-up settling down, you haven't been able to take a full breath since the conversation about your living situation a few weeks ago.

With the babies much more active and your back constantly aching, everything feels too real and it's finally sunk in that this is really happening.

"What's on your mind?"

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sudden sound of Rafe's voice and your hand comes to rest over your heart.

"What's not on my mind is the real question. We're only two months out from the babies being born and we don't have anything figured out. We don't have cribs or any necessities; which I mean, why would we? It's not like we have anywhere to set them up."

Rafe can see your anxiety rising as your breathing picks up and releases a deep sigh. You watch as he sticks his hand out, eyeing him skeptically before taking it.

"Come on."

He pulls you up with ease, both of his hands settling on your waist to keep you steady. Your clumsiness has reached new heights as your center of gravity continues to shift and pregnancy brain wreaks havoc.

"Where are we going?" You whine, and Rafe just shoots you a look. He stops for a second to allow you to slip on sandals before dragging you out to the Rover.

He buckles you in like usual before rounding the front and climbing into the driver's side and you watch the scenery blur as he heads away from the cut. The drive is silent, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your thigh.

You frown when he turns down an unfamiliar road, somewhere between the cut and figure eight. Your eyes widen as you take in all the large homes, awestruck at the beauty of the quaint neighborhood.

He pulls into a driveway and parks, taking a deep breath before looking over at you. The confusion is evident on your feature; your brows scrunched, and a quizzical look in your eyes.

"Where are we?"

Again, Rafe doesn't answer. Instead, he gets out and opens your door to help you down.

"Rafe, this is someone's house. We can't just trespass." You urge, and he remains stoic.

You drag your feet as he leads you up the steps to the door, completely at a loss. It's a beautiful beachfront house with a screened-in sun room and at least two stories. It's the type of house you grew up dreaming about.

The type of house that would be perfect for raising a family, large but cozy with big windows for sticky little hands to smudge up.

Your stomach does a flip when he pulls out a set of keys and turns to face you.

"You know that I'll always take care of you, right?" He asks, and you nod slowly.

"And you trust me when I say that I'll always find a way to provide and you'll never have to worry again?"

You nod once more, blinking quickly as tears sting your waterline. He places the key in the knob and opens the door, using the hand placed on your lower back to nudge you inside.

Your feet move on their own accord, and you step past the threshold.

"Welcome home, baby."

You whip around to face him, shocked despite your suspicions.

"What do you mean? Did you rent this place?" You breathe, and he chuckles.

"Nope. It's all ours. Closed escrow last week. I've just been trying to work out some last-second details."

Your mouth hangs open as you stare up at him.

"No you fucking didn't. Rafe Cameron, you did not buy a house. Certainly not this house. It's huge!"

He laughs at your genuine bafflement and nods his head toward the open space.

"Go take a look around. There are five bedrooms and four baths."

You stay cemented in place, trying to process the new information. He takes it upon himself to lead you around as you follow behind him like a lost puppy. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head when you see the kitchen that's half the size of the house you grew up in, and he laughs.

"If you think this is nice, wait till you see the pool and private beach access. It's our own little slice of heaven."

His heart sinks when he sees a tear fall, and he's eye level in an instant.

"What's wrong? Do you not like it?" He asks in a panic as his thumbs try to wipe away the rapidly falling tears.

"It's beautiful Rafe. It's just… I can't leave JJ. I can't sleep knowing I'm here while he's still slumming it." You cry, and Rafe breathes a sigh of relief.

"Come on."

He takes you outside, surpassing the aforementioned pool to stop in front of a second building.

"It's a guest house. I figured you'd have an issue with leaving JJ, so I thought maybe he could live here. Might help to have an extra set of hands." He shrugs, and you freeze.

An uneasy feeling washes over you, and your first instinct is to run for the hills. By all means, what Rafe has done is thoughtful and mind-blowing. However, you struggle with him buying you little things, and he's handing you the keys to a house? Not just you, but your brother as well?

Your mind can't quite process and Rafe notices immediately when your hands start ringing together and your pupils dilate.

"Hey, stay with me. I know it's a lot, but I couldn't stand to see you so stressed out. I thought it could be a fun little project with Sarah. You know, decorating and picking out furniture." He scrambles, and you finally look up at him.

"Why?" You whisper, and Rafe truly doesn't understand how you could think he wouldn't pluck the sun out of the sky and hand it to you if he was able.

"Because I love you, and you deserve nice things. I plan on giving you those nice things, whether you like it or not."

Your lip quivers as you look around at the vast property and you shake your head.

"But a house?"

Rafe's large hands envelop yours and lay them against his chest; a grounding tactic he's learned over the past few months to help with your anxiety.

"Baby, I would buy the whole town if it would make you smile. So yes, I'm giving you a house so we can turn it into a home."

You pull him down by his neck, pressing a salty kiss to his lips before pressing your forehead to his.

"Thank you."

Rafe kisses the tip of your nose and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as he can with your large belly.

"Anything for you."

The two of you stay like that for a second before you take a deep breath and rub your stomach. Your eyes light up suddenly and Rafe smiles at the way you're practically buzzing.

"Can we show JJ?"

He nods with a chuckle and leads you back to the truck.

"Of course."

The whole drive back you're shifting in your seat, nerves and eagerness oozing out of your pores. You practically leap from the seat despite Rafe's protest as soon as he parks, and race inside to the best of your ability.

"JJ, come with me." You sing, and your brother looks at you like you've lost your mind before glancing at Rafe.

"Everyone can come if they want." Rafe offers, and the rest of the group shares a look before nodding.

You take JJ in the truck with you while the rest follow in the Twinkie, ignoring his line of interrogation the same way Rafe had with you.

"Where the fuck are we?" JJ questions the second you pull into the driveway, and everyone spills out of the Twinkie.

"What is this?" Sarah asks, and you just give Rafe a knowing smile.

They frown as the two of you walk to the door, hanging back in case someone comes out with a shotgun. Their frowns turn to shock when Rafe unlocks the deadbolt and nods his head to signal everyone to enter.

They do so slowly, arms crossed as they look around the same way you did.

"Welcome to our not-so-humble abode!"

As soon as the words leave your mouth, everyone gasps and turns to face you.

"What?!" JB shouts, and you nod while laughing.

"Rafe bought the most expensive surprise ever." You say, and Sarah's most drops open.

"You didn't let me help?" She scolds with a slap to Rafe's arm and he back away with a mock scowl.

"Relax, I already told Y/N that the two of you have free reign to decorate however you want."

This seems to improve her mood as she squeals and claps happily.

You turn to face JJ, and he gives you a half grin. It doesn't meet his eyes, and you can tell that he's trying to be happy for you despite his qualms.

"You wanna see outside?" You murmur, and he tries to appear excited. Rafe motions for the rest to hang back, aware that you need a moment alone.

JJ lets out a low whistle when he sees the pool and the beach just a few yards away.

"This is insane. I'm happy for you."

He pulls you into a hug and you squeeze him a little tighter.

"Do you like it?" You press, and he cocks his head to the side.

"Shit, what's not to like? You got the happy ending you deserve."

You hum in agreement before motioning toward the guest house.

"Well, it's a good thing since you'll be living here too. If you want to, that is."

The speed at which JJ's head whips to look at you is almost concerning and he studies your face for any signs of humor.

"Are you crazy? I can't impose like that!" He exclaims, his arms moving wildly as he gesticulates to emphasize his point.

"How do you even know the word impose? Anyway, you wouldn't be. You'd be living in the guest house. It's all yours." You explain, and for the first time in your life, JJ is at a loss for words.

"Is Rafe okay with that?" He finally asks and you nod.

"It was his idea. The babies are going to want Uncle JJ around, and I guess I wouldn't hate having you here either." You tease, bumping his shoulder with your own.

You're interrupted by loud chatter as the rest of the pogues walk out, John B already talking about the surf break and house parties.

"What's going on over here?" Kie smiles, and you shrug casually.

"Just talking about how nice it's gonna be to have JJ living in the guest house."

Rafe pulls your back into his chest, his hands sneaking around your front to rest on your belly. Everyone looks around, completely baffled at the new information. JJ is still staring at the guest house, unsure how to react.

It's nice; bigger than the shit hole the two of you grew up in. He's barely ever had a room to himself, let alone an entire place. Living in his sister and Rafe Cameron's fancy guest house isn't exactly how he saw his life unfolding, but he isn't mad at it.

His thoughts are interrupted by John B and Pope slapping him on the back.

"You good?" Pope frowns, and JJ blows out a long breath.

"Yeah, man. Just surprised."

John B nods in understanding before he breaks out into a smile.

"You know this means we're crashing here all the time right? Why hang out at the chateau when we can chill at a five-star resort?" He jokes, and JJ smiles brightly.

"Shit yeah, man. We're practically kooks now."

Rafe interrupts with a loud scoff and shakes his head.

"I wouldn't go that far, Maybank. Besides, being a kook isn't all it's cracked up to be."

JJ slips off his boots and jumps in the pool before surfacing to stare down your boyfriend.

"I don't know, bro. This seems pretty fucking awesome."

There's a moment of silence before Rafe laughs loudly.

"Yeah, it's not too shabby."

You just stand and watch all the people you love most in your backyard, trying to commit the image to memory.

"We need to start shopping, like, yesterday." Sarah suddenly says, and you wrap an arm around her shoulder.

"We can look online tonight." You assure her, and she kisses your cheek before Rafe playfully pushes her away. Her lips are replaced with his and he nuzzles into your neck.

"Are you happy, baby?"

You shift to look at him, and his heart melts at the way you're glowing.

"The happiest." You sigh, and Rafe kisses your throat softly.

"Then so am I."

@i-love-rafe @itsmytimetoodream @brynley-a-xoxo @whore4drew @houseofperfecttaste @everythingmarveltopgun @f4ll-for-you @athenabarnes @antagonize-me-motherfucker @writtenwordslover @madsnxo @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @starrystarkey93 @keylin1730 @fulla02 @loving-and-dreaming @evening-starlight @ibleedcalories @badasspizzalover @veescorneroftheworld @pinkpantheris @brooklynscherry-z @starkeylover @sebastiansstanswhore @lothiriel9 @katzarantos @gillybear17 @genius2050

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron series #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks #outer banks series

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jomiddlemarch · 2 years

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If you are out of trouble, watch for danger

I. Jessica survived the assassination attempt. Barely.

The baby she carried did not.

It had been a girl, just past quickening, almost certain to be named after Leto’s dead mother Thalia, which Jessica had hadn’t minded terribly as she had no one of her own to honor and it was a name easily pronounced in all of the five tongues of the Imperium, unlike her own.

She had been conceived in accordance with Jessica’s orders to bear the Duke of Atreides daughters only but not to begin upon consummation of the binding, which might render the pregnancy less valuable in the eyes of the Duke as well as allowing Jessica insufficient time to assess her status in the House. She had waited for three months, not so much because she worried about Leto as the reaction of his inner circle; his ambivalence about taking her a concubine had left him almost diffident when he came to her in her private chambers and she wondered who had orchestrated their binding and how long it would take her to discover. He was a man used to command, that was clear, but it was also apparent he was deeply uncomfortable making any demands or any requests he felt might be so construed. He offered her the compliments due to her as his pledged Lady but he was not easy in her presence, determined to perform his duty and equally determined to allow her as much liberty as he could.

She had thought she might need to come to him on her knees as a handmaiden in the Koranjiyana when he had told her she must decide how it went between them, but that he could not use her; he would not touch her unless he gave her satisfaction first. She had almost despaired as she agreed, sure she would need to pretend to be transported by his mouth, his hands, his beard rough against her throat and belly and thighs, but his principled morality was no indicator of his skill as a lover and he had waited patiently for her to catch her breath to tell him he might proceed. She suspected no one had ever been so deftly rid of their virginity and she had tasted herself on his lips as he kissed her mouth and then her cheek before he left her to return to his own quarters. She did not love him for what had passed between them, but she could not help a certain fond appreciation for his gentleness and his acuity, the roughness of his baritone as he bid her a safe journey through the vale of sleep, a custom particular to his House and his people.

This was how it went between them over the next weeks, Leto coming to her when she gave him leave, his manner to her respectful if not trusting, protective, though he guarded himself from her. She grew accustomed to his touch and he to her voice, her enjoinders to leave off from his work to join her for a glass of mulled wine, her inquiries into the reports from his vassals. There was nothing extraordinary about the night she conceived, nor the week she waited to make sure her initial assessment had been accurate and the pregnancy was a healthy one, but the smile he gave her when she told him was as well as his request to share her bed only to sleep, hand laid against her flat belly. Once assured of both her interest and comfort, he came to her for the pure pleasure of their congress, his own found as much in her eager response to him as in his achieved climax; as the child grew, so did a true and reliable friendship between them, though neither would have considered it love.

As the child grew, so did Jessica’s sense of peace, of acceptance to be found on Caladan along with the performance of her duty to the Sisterhood. Perhaps this was the right and expected progression the Bene Gesserit had orchestrated, perhaps Leto’s desire for a healthy heir would be satisfied by the girl-child she carried. Perhaps all was as it should be, though Jessica was still troubled by the calling of the wind, the darkness of early morning before dawn broke over the sea.

Perhaps, she thought, until the knife was thrust into her back and the poison began to consume her.

#dune #dune 2021 #lady jessica #angst #canon au #romance #duke leto #house of atreides #prequel #jessica/leto #tw:pregnancy #tw:pregnancy loss #making dune make sense to me

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thecampbellfam · 4 years

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TW: Loss

I started lightly bleeding this evening. It made the loss suddenly feel very real. I still can’t believe this is happening again.

I have an appointment at an early pregnancy loss clinic tomorrow. My last experience at a loss clinic was terrible so I’m praying tomorrow redeems that.

#tw: loss #tw:pregnancy loss

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devaigh · 5 years

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When the Bough Breaks

AN: I have had a few people inbox me with questions about some of the choices I have made in regards to this story. So I thought I would answer here. I mentioned before that this story was written in honor of a good friend. This is HER journey, as much as it is Claire & Jamie's. I have changed a few places, and some minor details, but overall, this is a real story.

Previously || 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Chapter 7: Revelations.

Would ye like to share with us what brings ye both here?”

Why they were here? It seemed such a simple question should have a simple answer. Yet the words jumbled together between her lips, twisting her back into silence.

She could feel her heartbeat.

A deep breath, then another.

Claire bit her bottom lip, guided by the firm pressure of her husband's fingers wrapped around her own. “Jamie and I.. have been trying to start a family.”

She looked up and caught Jamie's eye anchoring herself to his strength. “For the longest time, I never believed I was capable of having children. Then, I got pregnant.”

The older woman nodded. “I see. Yer no alone in that. I myself was never able to have bairns.”

“Everything was fine.. until.. it wasn't.”

“Ye puir dear. I'm sae sorry.”

“Thank ye,” Jamie said, as he wrapped an arm around Claire's shoulders. Claire could only nod, her lips drawn in a tight smile, hands, twisting the soft edges of her sweater.

It felt so different being on the other side. As a surgeon, Claire had gotten quite used to delivering bad news, trying to comfort those in pain. She herself had seen countless faces mourn when bad news was given and relief when things went well. Still, it was an odd feeling being the one comforted.

An old wrinkled hand reached out, stilling Claire's hand. “It's okay dearie, ye dinna have to share anything ye dinna wish to. We all ken the reason yer heart mourns.

She looked up as a ripple of quiet agreement moved around the group. Kind eyes watched with her encouraging smiles. One young woman pressed her hand again her heart, as their eyes met. “I'll keep ye both in my prayers, as we all do.”

“Thank you.” the words came easier as she looked around, still supported by the strength of Jamie's arm.

“I.. that is, Jamie and I appreciate that.”

********

6 weeks later...

The sound of retching woke him up.

Without opening his eyes, Jamie knew Claire was no longer in bed. Sitting up, he could see the thin sliver of light underneath the bathroom door.

Then that noise again.

“Sassenach?”

A low, miserable sounding groan answered him.

“Are ye alright?” he slid out from between the sheets, moving almost silently across to the door. “Claire? Can I come in?”

A few seconds of silence followed by a whimper was the response.

The door clicked open and Jamie blinked, trying to adjust to the light that flooded the doorway. Shaking his head he rubbed at his eyes, before he saw her, sitting on the floor opposite the toilet.

Her face was hidden from him, as her head rested on her knees, which were pulled almost to her chest. Her mask of curls hung almost limp around her, hiding her from view.

“Sassenach..”

Jamie slid down the wall beside her reaching to pull her into his side. Claire shook her head, as she attempted to pull away.

“I'm not feeling well Jamie.”

“Aye. I can see that. But do ye ken why?

Her curls bounced as she nodded. Her voice slightly muffled.

“Just side effects. It happens.”

“Ah. I didn't realize they would start so soon.”

Claire looked at him out of the corner of her eye, a wry smile on her lips.”

After nearly two months of going to their support group, Jamie and Claire had sat down and started to work out a plan. The decision to begin fertility treatments was something they both worried over. Despite their longing to start a family, there were many other concerns to think about. The cost alone was steep regardless of which option they chose, yet after weeks of talking and planning, the decision was made to try.

Dr. Leslie had gone over the different methods with them, suggesting the best options would be to look at oral medications to start. As Claire had been able to conceive naturally, Dr. Leslie felt that surgery was too extreme a path right away, while IVF wasn't really necessary...yet.

Claire had gone for her first solo appointment with Andrea the day before. She had gone through another series of tests and they had decided on the next steps. Jamie had wanted to be there but had an important meeting. Claire had insisted she would be fine on her own and kissed his cheek, sending him out the door. The pills she had brought home had come with had come with a rather peculiar set of instructions.

“We have to have sex.”

Jamie started, looking up from where he sat at the kitchen table, papers in hand.

“Right now?” He glanced around the kitchen, he eyes settling for a moment on the bar separating the kitchen from the living room. “Not that I'd say no to ye..”

“No, not right this second,” Claire said with a laugh. “Unless you want to take me to bed?”

“Sassenach, ye ken well I always want to take ye to bed.” He reached out a hand to take hers, pulling her into his lap. “I could spend forever in bed with ye and never tire of it.” He kissed her shoulder, drawing his stubble across the exposed skin of her collarbone. “Surely ye ken that I always want ye. There is never a moment when I shall refuse ye, as long as ye welcome me into yer bed.”

He looked up at her, his eyes dark. One hand took hers, bringing her fingers to meet his lips.

She shivered, her lip catching between her teeth. She could feel the flush rising up her neck as he spoke, her eyes locked with his.

“Take me to bed Jamie.”

He grinned. “It will be my pleasure, Sassenach.”

He had gotten to his feet, with her in his arms, and taken her to the bedroom. He had given himself to her, over and over, until they both had cried out, clutching hard to each other to anchor themselves to something solid.

Hours had passed with them wrapped around each other, each afraid to shatter the peaceful spell that settled around them, the sound of their hearts beating in unison.

She had explained then, in the dark the details of her appointment. Andrea had given her a prescription for a fertility drug called clomifene something that was supposed to help with her low ovulation.

“Our goal is to get pregnant.” Claire had whispered. “If that happens. Then we will go from there. Andrea suggested that I take a few weeks off from work, to allow time for me to get used to the medications.

He had looked up at her, seeing the dim light catch her eyes. “When would ye need to do that?”

She shrugged. I have already. I have enough time saved to take off for at least a month. I thought it might be best to start right away.”

He had muttered in agreement. “What else did she say?”

“She said that my ovulation was lower than she expected. That's why it took nearly three years for us to conceive the first time. That's why she had recommended we try the pills first.”

***

“I'm sorry I woke you up.”

He smiled. “Dinna fash Sassenach. Is there anything ye need?”

Claire groaned. “I need sleep. But I can't get comfortable. I'm either too hot or freezing. I have absolutely no energy.” She turned towards her husband, nuzzling into his chest.

“Well, let's get ye up off the floor.” He stood, pulling her gently to her feet. “Get back into bed, Sassenach, and I'll bring ye some tea.

Claire groaned. “I love you.”

“Aye. I ken.”

#wtbb #jamie and claire #jamie x claire #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #outlander au #Jamie Fraser #claire beauchamp #tw: depression #Tw: miscarriage #tw:pregnancy loss

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drdevoraak · 5 years

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Okay so this is me projecting from my own recent experiences, but could you do hcs or scenario/fic for Julian helping mc through a really difficult and complicated first 5 months of pregnancy, only to have a miscarriage? I understand if that's too much, the whole prompt or the miscarriage part, so if it is I apologise and maybe just difficult pregnancy hcs/scenario. I just felt very alone through the process and wondered how different it would be in a loving relationship.

Hi love! I really wish I could help you with this ❤

However, miscarriages are an extremely personal and painful subject for me. My mom lost 6 babies, and I have already lost one when I was 22.

I really hope that you never have to go through this pain again, because I understand how heartbreaking it is.

I just don’t think I’d be able to write something that would help you heal ❤ if you do want to talk about your experience, however, I’m always here ❤

Sending you so much love and healing.

#tw: miscarriage #tw:miscarriage #tw: pregnancy #tw:pregnancy #tw: loss of pregnancy #tw:loss of pregnancy #tw: loss of child #tw:loss of child #anon #asks

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ofviolentdeath · 5 years

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So this is going under a readmore because it’s...sensitive? So uh...yeah.

tw:murder tw:child murder tw:torture tw:pregnancy loss tw:chance basically

Chance has, on more than one occasion, tortured and killed pregnant women. In some instances, the women didn’t know they were pregnant but, being so tethered to death, Chance can feel that little pulse of life. In other occurrences, the women were very obviously pregnant.

There was also a few times where Chance killed actual children. Those were not tortured, their deaths relatively quick, but he still killed them with absolutely no remorse. This is a nasty habit of his when there are young children around him for extended periods of time as he cannot harm those kids without breaking his blood oaths.

#chancecanon #tw:murder #tw:torture #tw:pregnancy loss #tw:child murder #tw:chance

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fashionbooksboozefeminism · 8 years

Link

Please sign if you can.

#amnesty international #tw:pregnancy loss

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jomiddlemarch · 2 years

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slowly loosen knot by knot the strings

Like several other members of House Atreides, Jessica’s life was saved by a rainstorm.

That morning, day broke to darkness, the sky filled with heavy grey stormcloud from the cliffs to the distant line of the sea and Jessica had resigned herself to staying indoors, the forenoon spent in the still-room and the rest of the hours until she made an early supper with Leto occupied by a review of the various familial translations of the Oresteia, her feet on a cassock and a pillow tucked at the small of her back, instead of hours tending her kitchen-garden interrupted only by Paul’s nursemaid bringing him to her to suckle in the sunshine. He was fourteen months old now and beginning to take the traditional dulce gruel every child of Caladan ate first after mother’s milk, though he’d made his distaste for it clear, but was still baby enough to need to nurse throughout the day, even if he slept through the nights. He was old enough to be weaned when his second sister Imogen was born to fulfil Jessica’s duty to the Bene Gesserit. The first pregnancy of a girlchild she’d lost just after she’d been able to confirm it but she had no reason to expect anything untoward this time, past quickening and with no troublesome symptoms other than a desire for a spiced melon conserve restricted to the Imperial Court menu.

If it had been sunny, she would have died, hemorrhaging to death among the herbs, the rich earth of Caladan eagerly soaking up her lifesblood, the robust rosemary and lavender and hyssop concealing her collapse. If it had been sunny, it would have been too late when the maid found her and shrieked in alarm, too late for young Dr. Yueh or stout midwife Bia to save her, to do anything other than bathe her and lay her out for Leto to bless, something fundamental broken in him, before she was placed in her own small cairn. It rained, a hard, heavy lashing the castle had been built to withstand, and the scrubbed stone floors of the library showed the first vivid stain of the bleeding that soaked her hem. When she was found, it was old Marsail who called her name and stanched the blood with her long linen apron long enough for Jessica to be brought to her bed and the doctor and midwife rushed from their other business to the critical matter of keeping the Duke’s Lady alive.

They roused her from her faint with the burning salts, though she was still dazed, only dimly aware of what they did while she felt the tempting pull to darkness and the occasional murderous strike of pain in her belly. Leto came in at some point, because she heard his voice murmuring encouragement and exhortation in the quiet, urgent manner he used when he was unwilling to lose, and she felt his hand on her shoulder and then her cheek, but she couldn’t make out the expression on his face for the shadows in her own vision. It seemed an endless time and only seconds since she’d fallen in the library; she was unable to mark the length between her moans and the doctor saying the baby I cannot, Leto cursing roughly Acheron á Acheron, and then calling out Bring him! as Jessica felt herself drifting, drowning.

It was Paul’s cry that stopped her. Leto held him, too tightly, close to her face so she would hear, but Paul was loud, hungry and frightened, shrieking and then insistent, desolate, calling mam mama’ which he learned first despite what she’d told Leto the day Paul said Papou. She struggled to open her eyes and heard Bia saying it’s too much blood too much and then Leto thrust Paul at her chest, yanking down the neck of her chemise so their son could nurse, a last, desperate attempt to force her back to life. Bia’s hands were on her belly as Paul sucked, a terrible spasm gripping Jessica’s womb and then Dr. Yueh’s voice muttering it’s slowing, milord. She felt Paul’s small hand laid against her breast, warm where she was cold, his breath evening out as he swallowed; she felt how Imogen was gone, a candle blown, and she could not yet allow any grief for their daughter.

Her recovery was slow, in inverse proportion to the rapidity of her near-death. The kitchens were tasked with creating all manner of possets and puddings to help her regain her strength and the Duke’s spiritual adviser, whom Leto generally left to his own devices, led the household in a prayer of restoration, burning a nosegay of the hyssop and rosemary she had thought to prune back that lethal afternoon. Paul learned a dozen new words a week and she began to teach him to sign when he became restive on her lap, jostling the bed and rumpling the bedlinens. An emissary of the Bene Gesserit sent a recording of the Sisters in meditation and reminded Jessica that her duty awaited her with her eventual return to health. Leto came and sat with her for an hour before their evening meal and held her in his arms every night, his hand over her heart and would not sleep otherwise.

“Dr. Yueh and Bia agree after my next cycle, we may be together again,” Jessica said on a winter afternoon when night had begun its early encroachment and the rain pelting the windows was more ice than water. Leto took another sip from his glass of clove rakomelo before he spoke.

“To what end? Your pleasure or a child?”

“Both, I hope,” she said.

“No,” he said. He set down the glass on the table beside him and let his hands rest in the vee of his thighs, where he was wont to ask her to sit, her back against his bare chest, those same hands with their square palms and the great seal of the House stroking her hips, the soft swell of her belly.

It occurred to her that it was the first time he had chosen to deny her since they had been bound.

“No? I don’t understand,” she said.

“I will do whatever you ask of me for your satisfaction, Jessica, but I will not get you with child again,” he said. He spoke with the earnestness of a young man. She could almost forget he was twenty years her senior, as far from naiveté as Caladan from Arrakis.

“But I am your concubine, that is my duty, to you and to the House of Atreides,” she replied. “To give you healthy heirs, to strengthen the House. Surely—”

“I don’t care about your duty, I care about your life,” he snapped, angry as he’d never been with her. “I care that my son has a mother—”

“So it is for Paul you would do this,” she said, shrugging a little. He reached over and took her hand in his grasp, held her tightly. If she wore his ring, it would be cutting into her skin, the great cabochon emerald smooth against his palm.

“Not for Paul alone, though I would not be a good father to him, nor a good Duke, if I did not consider him,” Leto said. “I could not bear it, to risk your life, to lose you—”

“There’s no reason to worry it would happen again,” she said, but she heard how uncertain she sounded, how much like the novice she had once been, her black coif a weight across her shoulders. She thought how easily she had lost the first girl and how hard it had been to lose Imogen, who Marsail had told her later had never drawn breath, nor opened her eyes; she thought how surprised she had been both times and how many little stones there were among the Atreides cairns, how many lost children.

“There’s no reason to think it wouldn’t,” Leto said. “Jessica, I have been in battle, I have led my men into combat and not counted our odds much, even with Halleck at my right hand to wield as an axe, and it was less brutal than watching you suffer—there was so much blood, Jessica, you were so close to dying, I wasn’t even sure you’d come back when you heard Paul. When I put him to your breast, I thought even that might not be enough, that it was too late—”

“I’m sorry,” she said. The words felt very small in her mouth as she spoke and then when she looked into his beautiful dark eyes, saw the working of his mouth, imagined his kiss only ever in the service of their shared pleasure. It was something she could envision for herself, except for the Sisterhood and her oath; she had told herself it was all right to bear a son for Leto first, a son who might be all that was necessary for the House and the Bene Gesserit, if she fulfilled her vow and gave her Duke a daughter, the bargaining chip he’d never asked for, the penultimate ancestor for the Sisterhood to accomplish their centuries-long quest. If there was only ever to be Paul, how would she answer when the Reverend Mother inquired why? Would the House of Atreides be enough to keep her son safe if the Bene Gesserit felt he stood in their way? Her own life was a coin to be spent by the Bene Gesserit and they would not look kindly on her for withholding it.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Leo said. “But I will not travel that road again, not if I can prevent it.”

“And if I want another child?” she asked, unable to keep herself from pressing, even though she knew what it meant to him, what he’d said, what he’d done. The nights she woke to feel him clutching her, his tears on her shoulder, soaking through her nightrail.

“Then you must leave Caladan or I must die,” he said. “For no man who answers to the Duke of Atreides would bed you, even if the binding allowed you to conceive with anyone other than you bondmate. We have had honesty between us from the first, when there was nothing else. If you would seek to deceive me through your Bene Gesserit ways, I must cast you out and you will never see Paul again—”

“No,” she said quickly. “I would not. I won’t. But I can’t help wondering, if what I have given you is enough—you may re-evaluate, decide you need another child, daughters to marry into the other Houses, brothers to stand beside Paul—”

“Paul is enough for me,” Leto said.

“For you, perhaps. But the House of Atreides—”

“I am the House of Atreides, neshama,” he said, the flat finality of his tone softened at the end with that ancient endearment, that he’d whispered to her the first night he’d brought her to breathless joy in his embrace, weeks after she had lain in his arms as his concubine, the first night she had ever been Jessica with him.

“And if it should still happen, after we lie together? That I conceive again?” she asked. She needed him to accept what he required of her, what his demand meant.

“Then you will see that you are made safe,” he said. “The day that you are aware you are two, that you must become one. That is what I am asking you, telling you. If all precautions fail, you must see to it. Paul will be the only child of our union, the twenty-first Duke of Atreides. There will not be another, no second son and no daughter of the House of Atreides on Caladan.”

Fourteen years later, after Leto told her about the Emperor’s order, the inescapable assignment, exile, on Arrakis, Jessica remembered his words. She considered what he had said and how he had looked when he said Dune, too astute to see the transfer intended as anything other than a death sentence. And she thought of how young Paul still was, untested, how great his potential and how little weight the Sisterhood would give to it. She thought of her son without his father, without his House, and she knew what she could do, what she might offer up for a chance to save him. She knew Leto, walking through Castle Caladan with his own death at his back, would not be angry, not now, and she drew him down to her while the tide came in and it rained through the night, she drew him close to her and urged him on, his beard rough against her throat, and conceived their third daughter. She would wait until Arrakis to decide on a name and whether she would need to tell Leto, whose arm wrapped around her in their desert retreat, his hand resting on her belly, as near as he could be to his last child.

#dune #dune 2021 #jessica/leto #romance #angst #tw:pregnancy loss #tw:miscarriage #paul atreides #bene gesserit #lady jessica #making jessica's choices make sense #a fanfic at a time #family #house of atreides #invented my own curse words #my House of Atreides is part Greek and part Scottish #paul's sisters #neshama means 'my soul'#breastfeeding

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