Evermore: Part Two: Chapter. Five

The dishwasher

Summary: His fingers are dirty…

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x GF!Reader

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, teasing, we stan his lil belly

Square filled for @avengers-assemble-bingo “Bucky Barnes Birthday bingo event": Square 3: Staring contest

Card No: 4B009

Square filled for @buckyboybingo: Square 13: Free space

Square filled for @fandom-free-bingo: "Half-Baked Edition": Square 6: Licking lips

“Babe, I’m home. I got the plums you wanted,” you gasp, seeing your man standing in the kitchen. He’s looking a little broody today, and you wonder what’s running through his head.

Bucky holds a book in his metal hand while, to your horror, he eats the leftovers of the lasagna you made with his flesh hand. The sauce ends up on his shirt, the kitchen counter, and the floor you just mopped.

You huff. You love watching your man being comfortable enough to eat food with his hand, and even that he got a little belly now, that he has a real home—but you hate that he gets himself, his clothes, and your kitchen dirty. – Again.

He looks at the ruined shirt and the floor before taking another bite. Bucky goes back to eating while reading as you try not to be too turned on by his rugged, chiseled appearance. Damn, his perfect jawline and firm muscles.

Even with a little more belly, he looks perfect. Maybe even more handsome. The dress shirt is hugging his muscular frame in all the right places. The buttons are undone, teasing a glimpse of his chest and a dusting of dark hair.

Licking your lips, you watch him take another bite. His lips part, revealing his skilled tongue.

“Doll,” he finally says, eyes drifting toward you standing in the door frame. “I didn’t hear you coming.” It’s a lie, you know it. Bucky simply wanted you to watch him eat because he knows it turns you on.

He gives you a smoldering look, making you whine. “Buck, what the hell,” you huff, instead of giving in to the things swirling in your mind. “You are dirty!”

“I know,” he purrs and gives you an irresistible smirk. “How about you come over here, and I’ll get you dirty too?”

You glance at his hands, humming as you imagine letting him finger-fuck you again.

“No—” Your answer surprises Bucky. He furrows his brows because so far, you have never said no to him. “I know what you did with your metal hand, and your other hand is stained with lasagna.”

He chuckles at your comment. “I can wash my hands. No problem, doll.”

“Not the metal one,” you huff. “I don’t want to know if there is still some blood, dirt, or food stuck in your metal fingers. You won’t get anywhere near me with your dirty fingers, sir.”

“Sir, huh?” Bucky grins before shoving the rest of the lasagna into his mouth. “I will come back to you and her.” He dips his head to look at your crotch. “How about I carry the bags inside, and you can slip into something comfortable?”

“I won’t let you touch me with your dirty fingers,” you coo while walking past your boyfriend. You glance over your shoulder, admiring the way the dress shirt stretches across his broad shoulders. “Eat up, baby. I got dessert for you.”

“Dessert,” he hums, eyes following your every move. Bucky looks at his hands, frowning deeply. “Let’s get you clean then…”

After cleaning the floor and taking off his dirty clothes, Bucky removed his metal arm and put it into the dishwasher to get it clean, but the machine doesn’t want to work.

“Stop making a fuss,” Bucky grumbles under his breath. He glares at the dishwasher, having a little one-sided staring contest with the machine. “I want you to do your job.”

Slamming the door shut, he presses the button again, waiting for the dishwasher to do its job.

He smirks as the dishwasher finally starts to work. “I’ll be right back.”

“Buck? Baby?” You look around the kitchen. Bucky must’ve cleaned the floor and kitchen island, but the man himself is nowhere to be found. “I was joking, you know.”

Looking at the dishwasher, you sigh. Bucky must’ve forgotten to shut it off. “Alright, let’s see if he used it right this time.” You chuckle while opening the door. You slide the rack out, screaming in terror as Bucky’s metal arm lies in the rack.

“Doll? Y/N? What happened?” Bucky runs into the kitchen, looking for the source of your distress. “What’s wrong?” He searches for an intruder.

“Your arm…” You point at the dishwasher, still a little shaken. “Why is your arm in the dishwasher, Bucky? You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“You wanted me to clean my hands,” he shrugs and steps toward the dishwasher. Bucky pecks your cheek before getting the arm out of the dishwasher to put it back on.

“You’re crazy,” you giggle when he wraps his arms around your waistline to kiss your neck. It makes you happy that Bucky feels safe and comfortable enough in your shared home to take his metal arm off without thinking twice. “But I love you.”

“I love you too, baby doll.” He nuzzles your neck, sighing happily as you wrap your arms around him.

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/n; Hi my little doves, sorry i kept you waiting because i had my uncle and his family over from Germany and we spent quality time and also im working and my work is crazy lately but here i am. Love you all xx (sorry for any typos)

TAG LIST IS OPEN! (let me know if i forgot to tag you)

Warnings; Fighting! SMUT in next chapter!

Words; 3.529K

Chapter Eight ‘’Newly Weds''

She had to admit the food was delicious, she was aware that the meat dishes were exactly the way she prefered it, but she had no appetite, the grand hall was packed, houses all around the galaxy came to her wedding, including her sister-in-law and best friend Irulan, their tables were close so she saw Irulan smiled at her warmly, maybe she was encouraging her or feeling pity, Y/N couldn’t read her face from afar. Various guests brought presents such as; ancient scripts, carpets made of spice, valuable stones to make jewelry.. after a while she lost count.

When it was time to dance Feyd-Rautha bolted to his feet with a stoic expression and extended his hand to his new bride, ‘’May I have this dance?’’ it wasn’t a question he was basically demanding and it was custom for bride and groom to start the dance, the entire galaxy knew it. ‘’Yes, my Lord.’’ She replied and held his warm hand, his fingers grasped her delicate hand, he led her to the obsidian dance floor, when he held her waist she felt a sudden rush to her chest like her blood just gathered there.

‘’Try to smile, everyone is watching us.’’ He said quietly, obviously caring for his reputation and his wife’s. She looked into his eyes first, he was an excellent dancer and she was in awe every time, his blue orbits made her feel like they were the only two people in the grand hall, she felt at ease and automatically the corners of her lips lifted up into a gentle smile, a smile that pleased Feyd deeply but he kept his composure.

Soon other couples joined them, she followed Feyd’s eyes to a couple dancing close to them and she turned to see the couple, Pyramus and his fiancé were dancing…

Y/N’s eyes couldn’t believe what she was witnessing, ‘’Aww, are you hurt little dove?’’ she turned to Feyd, his tone was mocking but his eyes held something else, she could see a storm brewing in those ocean eyes, ‘’He doesn’t interest me anymore.’’ She was telling the truth but in Feyd’s dark mind she was a liar. Feyd didn’t respond and kept guiding the dance however he could feel raw rage building in him. His mind which was led by his uncle for so long was doubting his wife’s reply;

‘’She is lying, isn’t she?’’

‘’One cannot forget someone they once held dear..’’

‘’Were they ever intimate with each other?’’

His twisted mind kept twirling into those dark thoughts but his perfectly chiseled face showed no evidence of it.

Y/N’s eyes watched the guests retrieve to their guest chambers one by one, it was almost dawn and she was tired, her feet were killing her but Feyd stood still like a champion, she wondered if he was tired as well but his composure promised otherwise, Y/N found herself admiring her husband for being strong and when she caught herself doing it she shook her weary head in disbelief.

‘’Congratulations again dear nephew.’’ Baron Vladimir approached in his elevated carriage, towering above them, ‘’Thank you uncle.’’ Feyd’s response was short, Y/N bowed to show respect, Reverend Mother was next to Baron in her black clothing, covered head to toe, ‘’I shall pray for the old gods and the new for your marriage to succeed.’’ She said her eyes only focused on Y/N, she understood Reverend Mother’s true intentions, after all Y/N was one of them and she was trained to read between the lines, Reverend Mother was basically saying that ‘’I’ll pray for you to survive and keep Harkonnens connected to the Bene Gesserit by blood’’ one way or another she had to produce heirs but her plan was to avoid it as much as she could. ‘’Thank you Reverend Mother.’’ She bowed to her as well.

The way to Feyd’s chambers were covered with white roses, it was a custom of the Harkonnes, when the celebration of marriage ends the bride and groom walk back to the groom’s chambers hand in hand among white flowers to consummate the marriage.

Y/N’s heart was beating at full speed, his hand was like a cage to her hand, the hall was so silent that she could her heart beat in her ears, she knew the way to his chambers since she had been occupying it for days. She turned to get a glance of Feyd, her husband… his stoic face made her even more uneasy, she never liked not knowing or not predicting someone’s actions.

When they reached to the black door Feyd let go of her hand to open the door, he walked in and extended his hand, she took his hand again and walked in and her skin froze when she heard the door close.

‘’Do I have to kill him for you to stop loving him?’’ was Feyd’s first words to Y/N since the dance, she knew something was wrong with him.

‘’Pardon me?’’ she turned to face him, they were in the bedroom section, the entire chambers living room, bathroom and bedroom were spotless and decorated with white roses, it smelled nice.

Staring down at her, Feyd’s eyes were dark and intense as he asked the question that had been weighing on his twisted mind  since the celebrations, ‘’Do you still love him even after he sold you off for spice?’’ his voice laced with a hint of jealousy and possessiveness. His gaze remained on her, not entirely convinced by her words earlier when she said that Pyramus didn’t interest her anymore, ‘’Then why does he still have an effect on you?!’’ he asked, his tone tinged with skepticism.

She couldn’t believe that she was being accused of this, ‘’Why would a man who sold me for spice could have an effect on me?!’’

Feyd smirked as her anger flared, relishing the fact that he had gotten under her skin. ‘’it’s a simple question little dove,’’ he said coolly, his lips slightly curled in a smug smile. The mention of her ex’s betrayal ignited a fire within him, fueling his own possessive instinct. ‘’Then why was he eyeing you so intently during our wedding?’’

His questioning made her roll her eyes, was he out of his mind? Well, it was Feyd so anything could be possible. ‘’You should ask him that my Lord!’’

Feyd’s irritation grew at her eye roll and insolent response. He couldn’t help but tighten his jaw in annoyance. ‘’I am asking you little dove.’’ He said firmly, he took a step closer, towering over her in an attempt to assert his dominance. ‘’Explain why he was staring at you like that.’’

Y/N was puzzled, how could she know? She didn’t move away from him, Feyd’s patience was wearing thin. He grabbed her chin forcefully, his grip not quite painful, but firm enough to make his intentions clear. ‘’Why can’t you just give me a straightforward answer? Do you enjoy testing my limits?’’ he growled, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face, searching for any hint of deception.

Y/N didn’t back away from his grip even though it was a bit painful, ‘’As I have said, I do not know anything about him anymore, I left him in my past and I shall not bring him to my present and my future.’’ She replied calmly but she could feel the tears forming at the corner of her pretty eyes, Feyd’s grip on her chin remained firm as he leaned in closer, his gaze unwavering as he continued to question her, ‘’Why should I believe you?’’ he asked, his tone sharp, ‘’You say you’ve left him in the past, but your actions contradict your words. I don’t buy it.’’

He was being unbelievably stubborn, was he threatened by Pyramus?

‘’I was on your side the entire time.’’ She protested, his fingers were digging in her jaw, he noticed the tears forming but remained unyielding, he took a step closer again, his body now mere inches away from her, his breath warm against her lips as he continued to probe, ‘’That might be true,’’ he admitted begrudgingly, ‘’but that doesn’t change the fact that I can sense the lingering connection between you two. Don’t try to deny it. I’m no blind.’’

Maybe he still had feelings for her but she had none left, ‘’I do not know how I can convince you but I don’t love him.’’

Feyd’s hand dropped to his side, she was free from his grasp, he didn’t say anything, didn’t have to because she could see that he was still questioning her with his eyes. He pulled out a pocket knife and moved to the bed, Y/N was watching his every move. He cut his palm and smeared the blood on the side she usually slept, before she could ask he spoke with a cold tone; ‘’In few hours maids will come to take our sheets to my uncle to show him that we have consummated our marriage.’’ He took of his clothes and threw them around, he wasn’t even looking at her side of the room. He was only in his undergarments and he got under the covers, ‘’You should scatter your clothes around the room and get some sleep.’’ His back was turned to her, Y/N did what she was told and with her lacy white undergarments she got under the covers and turned her back to him. Sleep came quicker than usual.

Feyd-Rautha was a lot of things but not a liar, after getting some sleep maids have entered their bedchambers to wake them up for the new day ahead and also to ‘’change the bed sheets’’ when they saw the blood Y/N noticed the small smiles they shared among themselves, her Bene Gesserit training told her that the servants were happy to have her as their new lady. Na-Baroness Y/N Harkonnen.

Breakfast was ready for them but Feyd ignored her and left their quarters to his study room to get some work done, he was a busy man and the house Harkonnen’s future depended on him.

While she was having her breakfast she announced; ‘’I would like to visit Giedi Prime’s orphanage.’’ Her request was an odd one, maids around the room couldn’t comprehend her request, ‘’Now that I am the Na-Baroness I represent my husband. I do not wish to busy his already occupied mind about charity work and other social details. I want to see the conditions of the orphanage and offer my help. Don’t let the workers there know that I shall visit.’’ As an Atreides born and raised ladies of her house tended to more social problems and handled them with perfection. Even though she didn’t wish to marry into Harkonnens now she had duties to fulfill, Reverend Mother’s words hanged in her weary mind, the old lady was right in a sense. Y/N had to survive no matter what and her plan was to gain the public’s affection. Show them what kind of a woman she was and how useful and helpful she could be.

Little spies of Feyd-Rautha whispered into his ear that Na-Baroness wished to visit the orphanage today, she ordered her maids to prepare bags filled with clothes, medicine, toys. Feyd found himself smiling when his spies left. He changed his plans for today and decided to join his wife.

Y/N was waiting for the ship to arrive and take her and her servants to the orphanage when she noticed her servants bowing to someone, it was a hot day and the black sun of Giedi Prime made everything look too shiny white and dark black. Her dress was simple, she wanted to give a nice impression and as her first day being Na-Baroness she had to be careful. A soft wind made the silk grey dress clung to her thighs, it was a modest one, she turned on the open field to see who was coming and saw him in all black head to toe.

‘’You thought I would let you leave the fortress on your own Na-Baroness?’’ his raspy voice was sarcastic yet held a truth to it, it was too dangerous outside for the royals to roam. ‘’As I have proven before I can hold my own but-‘’ she watched him stand next to her, his hands clasped on his lower stomach, he leaned in to hear her clearly and it made her aware once again about the height difference.

‘’I do appreciate it.’’ She finished looking up at him, he did something which surprised Y/N, he kissed her temple with his soft lips, placed his hand on the small of her back, his gesture made the servants stand there in disbelief, they have never witnessed their Na-Baron being gentle with someone, especially a woman…. Y/N noticed the glances the servants shared among each other but paid no mind. She let them whisper, if it meant that she could win the public by simple and soft gestures shared between her and her husband then she was happy to oblige. When the ship arrived Feyd held her hand and guided her inside.

The trip to the orphanage was calm, Y/N and Feyd shared a small room together, she was sitting by the small window, ‘’So,’’ she began watching the scenery before her eyes, nothing but buildings, roads and factories, at a distance she could see a forest but it was far. ‘’There is nothing wrong when you don’t dine with me but if I refuse…’’ she mentioned earlier today when he left without a word. Feyd was getting a drink, he froze with her questioning, didn’t except her to say something about it.

‘’I thought you don’t like my company, matter of fact,’’ he turned to her with a glass of wine in his palm, ‘’you said it yourself before.’’ He was teasing.

Her hands resting on her lap, she started to play with her fingers with uneasiness, ‘’I may have said something like that before.’’ She tried to hide her smirk but he saw.

‘’My Na-Baron, we have arrived.’’ A guard announced and Y/N took deep breaths before they left the ship together.

The sun again blocked her vision for few seconds when the doors of the ship opened, she forced her  eyes to stay open and get used to it. She felt his hand wrapping around her hand and together they got off the ship.

The orphanage was gigantic and white, pure white, the floors were marble with grey veins. When she looked around and found not a single tree or a bush, she thought that had to be changed.

‘’Na-Baron,’’ a man approached them like his life was at stake, he was a tall old man with a long beard and bald head, ‘’And Na-Baroness, congratulations. We pray for this union to bring prosperity and power to us.’’ He bowed, ‘’Thank you Ser.’’ Feyd-Rautha spoke with his formal manner, it was amazing to see him shift that quickly. ‘’If we had known that you were visiting we would have been ready for you.’’ He seemed embarrassed, ‘’Please,’’ she spoke with a soft tone, ‘’Do not fret. I am here to see the conditions of the children who live here and we have brought clothes, medicine and toys for them. May we see inside?’’

The old man was startled by her soft spoken nature, ‘’Of course my Na-Baroness.’’ He bowed again and led them inside.

The walls were grey marble, there was no vibrant colors for children to see and it broke her heart. In a way Y/N was an orphan, being apart from her actual parents and staying somewhere that wasn’t home… Feyd noticed the sudden shift in his wife, her hand went to her chest in a troubled manner, ‘’Are you feeling unwell.. wife?’’ just like her Feyd was also getting used to being married and having a wife. Y/N turned to smile kindly, ‘’I am fine Na-Baron, thank you.’’ She replied shortly, Feyd didn’t pressured her to explain but he made a mental note to observe her closely. Y/N noticed the looks she got from children around her, they watched her walk gracefully in awe, everyone knew the yesterday’s grand wedding and ever citizen wanted to see the Na-Baroness up close. She smiled and bowed her head slightly to the children and watched them blush and avert their afraid gaze to somewhere and look back at her again. As a Bene Gesserit her mission was to make the citizens of Giedi Prime follow the Sisterhood’s prophecies and laws but as Y/N her mission was to win their favor and show them kindness.

Together they looked at the children’s bedrooms, toilet chambers and common rooms for hang out and eating. The building was old thus the furniture and plumbing system as well. Y/N, clearly was aware that everyone was watching her, held her husband’s arm in a loving manner and spoke ‘’My dear, we should renovate this institute in our name so that children here can have the newest technology and luxuries to succeed.’’ Her plan was to move the Baron and Rabban aside and make her name and Feyd’s name more popular among the people. ‘’Such an excellent idea dear.’’ He agreed, it made her eyes shine in hope which he noticed and felt a strange sensation at his chest, the symptom was heart attack but it was impossible. Then what was it? He didn’t linger on it.

Y/N personally gave the children boxes of toys, she talked to them, listened to their dreams and Feyd found himself watching her while he was talking to the workers. His eyes were on her, she was such a natural at being kind and nurturing that he was in awe of it, all his life he was shown nothing but brutality, fight, and blood. Women in his life before were trained to be an accessory in his life style, however Y/N was the opposite and she never tried to fit in, it seemed like she had a mission and she was following it like the paper ship on a lake, flowing in the water’s direction swiftly.

It was getting dark when their work was done, they said their goodbyes and got on the ship to return to the fortress. Not knowing what was waiting for them.

The ride to the fortress was calm one, they sat in comfortable silence, she could feel his eyes every once in a while, thanks to her trainings she could sense if someone was watching her. The question she was pondering on since last night came to her again ‘’Why didn’t he sleep with me last night?’’ It was their wedding night and ever since she was brought here he seemed eager to have her and when it came to it he stayed distant, his action last night left her in disbelief. He literally cut his palm and rubbed the blood on their sheets to trick the Baron and the rest of Giedi Prime but why?

‘’Last night,’’ she found herself speak, Feyd was sitting next to her and she caught his attention, ‘’Yes?’’ his raspy voice brought her to reality, she changed her mind. ‘’Never mind.’’

As soon as they landed a servant came to collect them, said it was urgent and the Baron requested their presence. She followed Feyd, he was holding her hand, guiding her.

Baron was waiting for them at the strategy room, every house had a room like this one to have meetings for war, spice etc. Baron, as always was in his floating device, ‘’Greetings young couple.’’ His voice didn’t match his words, ‘’Hello uncle.’’ He let go of her hand, didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N. She watched Baron witnessed it and smile with victory, she was good at reading expressions.

‘’There is trouble in Arrakis, Rabban is messing up the whole spice production,’’ Baron began, ‘’you have to take his place and deal with Fremen rebels.’’ He was newlywed and Baron didn’t even hesitate to give him an onerous  mission ‘’Me and my wife shall get ready in an hour and-‘’ his speech was cut off, ‘’This matter only concerns you Feyd. Na-Baroness shall stay here and wait for your return. You have consummated the marriage, I’m sure when you come back you will hold your first born.’’

Y/N froze in her state. She was going to be here all alone, Feyd was refusing to look at her because if he did he would slice his uncle’s throat.

The walk back to their chambers was slow and quiet, their fingers brushed and left stingy sensation, when Feyd closed the door behind him the realization hit Y/N. According to Baron, Feyd was suppose to be gone for 9 months maybe more.. she turned to him and his expression broke her heart. He looked like that little boy she met years ago, alone and afraid. ‘’I don’t want to leave you.’’ He confessed which made her throat clench itself in agony, he looked away for a moment, contemplating something in his mind and he cursed under his breath and closed the distance between them, their lips met in passion.

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Defending His Lady

Feyd-Rautha x wife!reader

Summary: Both Feyd and your son take issue with the people of Giedi Prime not accepting you as their Lady. Part of the His series

Notes/Warnings: Based on a request. It's a little bit different. Typos, probably.

Words: 1250

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Years ago, when you imagined your future, it wasn’t this. It wasn’t on this planet. It wasn’t with the husband and child you have. It wasn’t with the title you obtained from your marriage. You imagined light glowing through an open home, frilly gowns, a stuffy Lord, and a daughter who would be treated like a princess. It wasn’t necessarily what you wanted for your future, but it was what was likeliest to be. You’d be a foreign Lady on a new planet, yet respected just as much as their home-grown Lord.

You learned rather quickly that that’s not always how it works. And while you wouldn’t trade the life you have—not your husband, not your son—for anything the universe could offer, you can’t deny the difficulties that come with being the wife and mother of the Harkonnen line of Giedi Prime. 

The people wanted Feyd to marry one of their own, certainly not the concubine their na-Baron once took. They wanted purity. To them, you are tainted blood, and despite your status on this planet, many cannot resist treating you like a parasite. In the five years that have passed, you’ve taken the poor treatment and whispered words with as much grace as you can, knowing Feyd is always there to end the lives of those who step out of bounds, but it’s harder to ignore now that Fionn is no longer a baby.

Your son is growing. His ears catch more than you’d like. He notices how his father reacts to the harsh words directed at you and how he never sees the people who speak them ever again. He’s gathering the pieces that his mother is often disrespected, and that is the last thing you want.

—

“He sees it,” you tell your husband as you slip into your nightgown.

“He doesn’t see it,” Feyd says, pulling back the top layer of covers on the bed and settling under the sheets. When he reaches out his hand, you snuggle into his embrace. His arms are snug around you. His lips press a kiss to your hairline. “You worry too much.”

You hold in your huff of frustration. “I do not. He asked me as I put him to bed if bad people are hurting me and if that’s why Daddy keeps making them disappear.” Feyd pulls back to look down at you, his brow furrowed. You nod. “He sees it.”

Feyd exhales heavily through his nose. As a father, he’s been diligent, so very careful with how he leads his son; a surprisingly delicate guidance—something he didn’t have growing up. What started from Feyd’s fear of your son being too much like him died as the boy showed only love, but Feyd has continued his intricate training. He has trained so that even at the age of four, Fionn is vigilant, particular with his words, and practical in his choices. He trains so that outside factors are not as influential. He trains so the boy can think for himself. And it shouldn’t be a shock that he notices what happens in his own home. 

“It’s time he understands then,” Feyd says.

Your eyes go wide and you let out a light gasp. “Feyd, he’s four.”

“There’s no point in hiding what happens to them if he’s already curious. He’s as stubborn as you are,” he tells you. “And he’s old enough.”

—

“Mommy, where are we going?” Fionn asks, his little hand tugging on yours to get your attention. 

You take a deep breath, sucking in the dank air that leads to prisoner cells. You’re not sure how this is going to go, but you agreed and you need to let it play out. “Daddy wants to show you something.”

Fionn’s head turns to Feyd. “Is it a bad man, Daddy?”

Feyd pauses halfway down the hall and crouches in front of his son. You release Fionn’s hand so he can fully face his father. 

“Yes,” he says. “It’s a bad man.”

“He hurt Mommy?”

“Some of our guards heard him talking about your mother. He said rude things, called her names. He wished for harm to come to her.”

Fionn makes a soft noise of surprise. Name-calling—he considers that one of the worst of crimes, knowing what it got him when he insulted the little Lady of House Kenric. 

“But why?” he asks. 

“It doesn’t matter why,” Feyd says. “What matters is that we protect the ones we love, yes?”

“Yes,” Fionn agrees with a sharp nod.

Feyd looks up at you, silently commanding that you stay here. The last time you entered a cell to face the one who insulted you, more abuse was hurled at you until it tapped into a well of internal shame. It took you three days to shake that off, all the while your husband begging for you to return to your natural state of uncaring. 

You’ve always cared though, to some degree. It doesn’t matter that they like you so much as it matters that you’re not a stain on Feyd’s reputation. After all, he’s the Baron now, and one day, his son will be. If the people of Giedi Prime cannot forget where you come from, you worry they will never forgive Feyd, and worse, that they will never accept Fionn as their ruler. 

Feyd takes your boy’s hand once again and leads him the rest of the way. They stop at the correct cell and when a guard turns a key, they head inside. 

Inching your way down the hall, you halt just outside of it. Your finger goes to your lips to ensure the guard does not give you away, and with your back to the stone wall, you hear Fionn.

“He did it?”

The man is silent, likely knocked unconscious from Feyd’s earlier visit. You suppose he’ll be awake soon enough. 

“Yes,” Feyd tells him, his voice dropping an octave, “He did.”

“Did he apologize? He should apologize to Mommy.”

Feyd releases a sigh. His son is much more diplomatic than himself. But your husband can’t fairly be bothered. That’s the point of his parenting: to raise a better Baron than both he and his uncle have ever been. 

“Son, we do not let men like this apologize. We do not let them near your mother.”

“Oh.”

“So what do you think we do with them?”

Fionn hums, and it’s so much like his father that it’s as if he has stood on the sidelines of every death your husband has executed. The way Feyd hums as he plays with his victims. A fake hum of consideration, of contemplation. What should I do with them? How should they leave this world? Questions he pretends to ask as if he hasn’t planned their deaths out from the moment he was informed of the crime. And that’s the hum your son gives. He hums like a natural monster in the making. You wouldn’t be surprised if the boy is tapping his finger against his chin as he thinks. 

You feel an ounce of pride. There’s more to him than a kind heart, lovely as that heart is. He will be a fearsome Baron, but one that will show mercy when mercy is fit. However, here, now, mercy is not fit, and his father has made that clear.

“Would you like the first stab?” Feyd asks. “Top of thigh.”

The shing of metal scraping against Feyd’s sheath fills the space. A small blade. Good for Fionn’s hand.

“Which thigh, Daddy?”

Feyd chuckles. “You choose.”

anyone interested in a part 4 for my stucky omegaverse (milk and honey) au??👀👀

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 6 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: serious blood play ( it only gets worse from here, folks. welcome to hell), the realization that feyd has been scenting her, the harkonnen's have a supernatural sense of smell, minor talk of feelings, lots of talk and show of devotion, the baron, the mention of breeding, dubious consent.

word count: 7.6k

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ೃ࿔ savage bonds masterlist

Something dark was building up- roiling inside of him. 

It had a mind of its own. 

It didn’t belong to him. . . not really. It was its own entity entirely. 

It called to him in the middle of the night, waking him up from a dead, dreamless sleep. For a moment he stared at the slate grey wall, searching for any imperfections. When he found none he rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He wasn’t quite sure what he was searching for. Maybe a black hole to swallow him up. . . or an answer to his many questions. 

It wasn’t in his nature to be good. If anything, it felt off to display any kind of affection. Niceties were always just a means to get something that he wanted. Goodness was something he had to practice. A skill he honed over the years so that he could carry a conversation with those that weren’t raised by the same closed, hard knuckled fists that he was.  

It oozed off of you so naturally. Dripped from your mouth and your gentle hands. It was something that you freely created, and with zero effort at that. The thought of it used to infuriate him. He had heard about you, his promised one in passing. He’d always wanted you, from the first moment he’d met you back when you were children. 

And while he was. . .  infatuated with you? Yearned for you? Loved you? He wasn’t sure himself what it was that he felt, just that it had seeped itself into his very marrow- regardless of his feelings, he resented the fact that you weren’t cut from the same cloth. Feyd never minded the idea of putting you on a pedestal and protecting you. He’d play the part of your knight well, just as long as you’d let him relish in his misdeeds. No, he resented your kindness because he knew that eventually someone like him would use that against you. He had always wondered when it would happen. Had it happened on your planet when he hadn’t been there by your side? Or perhaps that moment had finally come whilst you were out on an excursion with your parent’s, making nice with other nobility.

You see, he hated the idea of anyone inflicting pain on you or inspiring fear in you. He wanted to be the soul owner of those sensations. Feyd could smell your fear in the air, the naturally floral scent of your skin turning slightly powdery the second that your pupils dilated and your heartbeat sped up. When he was in an enclosed space with you, like that damned closet, he could even taste it on his tongue. He often wondered if you were the same as he was in some aspects. If he choked you to the point of total oxygen deprivation would you cum harder? What if he ran his nails along your back and chest until you bled? Would you beg for him then? 

No. . . probably not.

 You were just as alien to him as he was to you. He didn’t see the world through your eyes, but as of late he wished that he could. Feyd wanted to know you so that he might be able to handle you better. 

No. . . that wasn’t it. 

Feyd wanted to know your favorite food and to be able to taste it for himself. Did you have animals back on Caladan and did you care enough about them to name them? Did you love anyone other than your family? He wanted you to tell him, in detail, what that was like. How did it feel to care for someone in that way, and how did you always make it look so easy to do so? What did you dream of when you closed your eyes to sleep at night? Did you prefer the night to the day and if you could ever get used to the thick smog that blocked your view from the sky, did you ever think at any point that you might stay with him here once everything was said and done?

He found no answers etched into the ceiling, and if they were really there, well then it was far too dark to tell. Instead he turned on his other side, his eyes instantly falling onto your resting form. He noted the way your lashes fluttered, eyes moving beneath your lids as you dreamed. 

Did he haunt you the same way you haunted him? 

His hand moved beneath his thin bed sheets, ghosting over your cheek. Instead he moved his finger just below your nose, feeling the warmth of your breaths. Someone had been so close to stopping those sleepy sighs completely, and while he had killed the perpetrators, the culprit was still in his own bedchambers, fat and bloated with greed. 

He knew what the Baron dreamt of: death and power. 

Feyd doubted that his uncle was finding any sort of trouble sleeping after what he had done. He’d gorge himself on food come the morning, another plan soon solidifying in his twisted mind. 

The dark thing moved inside of his chest again, jerking awake so severely that Feyd could only sit up in bed, his hands flying to his sides so that he could grip at the mattress and not your delicate face on accident. The feathers didn’t feel as satisfying as a throat would, but he squeezed down regardless, imagining his uncle’s fat neck breaking beneath his unyielding strength. Would he try to say something to his nephew in his last moments? Would his eyes flash at his own blood’s betrayal. . . or would he stare at him in silent hatred? 

No matter. Feyd reckoned that he would soon find out. 

People die everyday. The weak had to be culled, that was what he had been taught afterall. Powerful men were able to move the weak like pawns, but Feyd preferred to do everything by himself. That was the difference between him and his uncle. 

Feyd liked dirtying his hands. Vladimir had the numbers to command, but those men were all just as intimidated of his nephew as they were of him. The Na-Baron had two things that the “all powerful” Siridar-Baron did not: fangs and the ability to wield them. There was no weapon, unfamiliar or not, that Feyd couldn’t pick up and wield as though he had trained with them his whole life. There was no form of combat that he hadn’t honed his body with. Even worse, the Baron had raised Feyd with particular interest. He’d taught him since boyhood how to intimidate, barter, and kill legions of enemies with as little as a few words and harshly bit out threats. Above all else, Vladimir Harkonnen had taught Feyd-Rautha how to think and move across the game board just as he himself did. 

While Vladimir had faceless, nameless pawns to command at will, his nephew had only one other playable piece on his side. If it had just been Feyd against his uncle then he would have already razed the entirety of the empire that he’d been raised in to the ground. He’d deliver the embers up to the black sun as a final offering before leaving. Heading for you. 

Feyd wasn’t sure how something so weak could find its way to him. Better yet, that small, weak thing now lived inside of him, just as that nasty, violent entity did. There was once a time where he believed that they would always be separate. One could not live if the other was already inhabiting its host. . . but that was before. 

Before that first kiss. Before the first softening of your gaze. Before you. 

Slowly he laid back down, his head turning on instinct so that he could continue to watch you. So long as you were breathing then so shall he. He’d never had something that he needed to protect before. It felt heavy, but it wasn’t a bad thing- just a reminder that you were there. Still dreaming. Still loving. Death had always meant that there was something or someone better than him out there. If he had died then that just meant that he didn’t deserve to live. He had always been the type of warrior that craved to die in battle. How invigorating would it be to die by someone’s better trained hands? He’d watch with grave interest and jealousy as they carved him up. Feyd would want to feel everything. Experience it all with wide eyes so that he might learn and better himself even in his final moments. 

Feyd laid there in his bed though, the idea of being a coward playing over and over again in his mind. Could he run if it meant that you’d live? Yes. That fact was startling. So much in fact that it threatened to undo absolutely everything that he’d ever been taught. Every unspoken code that he lived by was being erased, replaced by an intrinsic need to be by your side. 

‘Could you accept her hatred?’ Yes, if need be. 

‘Would you let her paint you as a monster if her conscience called for it?’ Whatever it took. He couldn’t look back. 

‘What if it meant that she could never love you?’ Hate mirrored love in the grand scheme of things. He’d take whatever you’d give him willingly and without complaint, so long as you would let him pour his own affections into you. 

Feyd would continue to take. . . and take. . . and take. 

His next steps would all have to be carefully calculated. If he were in his uncle’s shoes then he would want to wait until after his enemy’s wedding, especially if it were obvious that suspicions were high. The pale man laid in bed for the rest of that night, his mind swimming with every possible step his uncle would take and might have already taken. If this were all going to work out then he would have to make sure that you were able to fight at his side when the time came. Despite his skill, it would be impossible to take an entire army on by himself, even if he timed things correctly. Feyd would have to start sowing seeds of doubt amongst his Uncle’s followers. He’d start with the men that had been assigned to his dimwit brother, Glossu. He’d no doubt side with their uncle when this all came to an end, though he’d be easy enough to dispose of. He was large, yes, but he was slow. He functioned off of anger and anger alone, which made him sloppy. Feyd could slit his throat whilst he slept and watch him gurgle on his own blood and dying breaths with not even a semblance of compassion. 

This evening he needed to start small though: the guards that you’d tried to distract at the door and those that saw the two of you fleeing down the hall. Whether or not he wanted to blame the two of you being alone in the Baron’s wing together on a moment of passion, he knew that his uncle would be all too suspicious. He’d have to do away with all of them before they could say anything. Feyd could blame the killings on his recent boredom and the rising tensions before the marriage. Either way, he knew the Siridar-Baron was less likely to become suspicious of his actions if he was to blame it on his own blood lust. 

He resented the fact that he’d still have to play the part of the Baron’s “beloved” nephew. Feyd wondered until the black sun rose high in the sky, the moonlight seeping from the room and plunging them in darkness yet again, whether or not he could even play nice with the man for a few more days. Everything inside of him, even now, screamed out at him: kill him. Kill him. 

He’d take out your adversaries one by one as the days passed. Whether you knew it or not, Feyd was completely at your disposal.

The memory of home had collected to a single point, dripping from your mind like liquid to pool at your feet. 

Your horse’s breath coming from his wide, kind mouth in thick plumes of aqueous smoke. Paul’s careful but unyielding fists flying past your cheeks in the training room. Your mother’s gentle hands cupping your face, the skin of her palms so soft and thin that you were scared that one day they might just tear against your lashes. Your father’s indulgent smile, always curious. 

In the moments that you spent by yourself in your now shared living quarters you found yourself clinging to their voices as well as the exact color of their eyes. You wondered if there would be a day that you would forget all of it. You had to stand in front of the mirror just the other day, hands palming your face, trying to remember every point of resemblance between you and your twin that your parents had always so lovingly pointed out. 

How long have you been on Giedi Prime? You tried to count on your fingers as you waited for Feyd to come back from wherever he’d stormed off to. How many nights have you slept in Feyd’s bed as opposed to the one that you’d been originally assigned? The wedding had been pushed back a few days due to the attempt on your life, but had your parents been made aware of the act? How many times have you eaten in the large dining room, miles of space between seats, feeling no more than a spectator of the life around you? You tried to imagine each breakfast, lunch and dinner that had been placed before you over the days, but the tan, black, and brown meats and side dishes all looked the same. They broke apart in your mouth and settled on your tongue like sand. 

You remembered staring up at that black sun for the very first time with wide, horrified eyes. When did it swallow you up? What day? Hour? Minute? Mentally you turned back the clock, wondering when it was that you lost the will to count down the days, the only thought on your mind being your own survival. You’d been lost to a planet that wanted you dead. 

Driven into a corner, you’d given in to your flight or fight instincts. The only thing on your mind at all hours of the day was the “when” and the “how”. When would the Baron strike next? How did he plan on taking you out? There wasn’t much of a reason to wonder why. You supposed he hadn’t taken a liking to you or had grown bored somehow. Vladimir never struck you as a man that followed the rules if he felt as though they didn’t give him a personal advantage, even the ones that the Bene Gesserit set in place. 

Shaky fingers reached up to brush against your lips, as though you could still feel Feyd’s brushing against them. That man. . . that infuriating man had done something to you. His constant mind tricks were beginning to wear you down and it seemed as though you were finally buckling under the intense pressure of it all. You nearly fell forward, catching yourself against the side of one of the black settees in the sitting area, eyes closing against your will as the memory of his dominance washed over you, nearly pulling you out into a sea of want and need with the high tides of your own desire. You had been drowning for days, no buoy in sight. Eventually you’d tire yourself, fighting against the power of those waves. Even now your limbs shook with the overexertion of it all. 

Your lips still tasted of sea water. 

Has this been their plan all along? Were you losing your mind? The non stop seduction had somehow made such a horrific place more bearable. Bearable enough that, even in your own overwhelming paranoia, you’d lost track of how many days, hours, minutes, seconds you’d been away from everything you’d ever known and loved. 

When the Na-Baron returned to the room you didn’t ask about the blood that clung to his pale skin, nor the crazed look in his eyes. By the time he was done showering, no doubt scrubbing off more carnage that your eyes hadn’t been able to see in the brief seconds that the two of you had stared at one another, the light had returned to his eyes. He was Feyd again. Just Feyd. 

Perhaps even your Feyd. 

He stood before you, wearing nothing but a pair of skin tight trousers that reminded you of what he so often trained in. He hadn’t dried off well enough, and you wondered if he’d been in a hurry to be in your presence. ‘Nonsense.’ You thought ruefully to yourself. The skewed view that your mind had created of Feyd Rautha-Harkonnen was nothing but a lie. A farce. 

Living so closely with someone that wasn’t completely evil was more bearable than being held in a room with just another Harkonnen that wanted you dead. He was one of them, no matter how many times he tried to tell you differently. 

Droplets of water ran down his pale chest. For a single, selfish moment you allowed yourself the time it took to follow one of the ephemeral bead’s trail. Down the line of his neck, pooling ever so slightly at his defined collarbone, before sliding down the harsh lines and planes of his chest and abs. It soaked into the waistband of his pants, dying there without even a whisper. 

Would you die there too eventually? Would he split you into two and forget about you? Would he leave you bleeding and broken on your shared marital bed? You had to bite off a sob before it ripped from your chest, especially when he finally opened his mouth to speak after what felt like hours of prolonged, painful silence. 

“Everything I do, from this point on, is for you. Even if I have to tell lies, know that my body and my mind would never betray you.” His eyes were searing, burning holes into your own. 

He was constantly flickering between personalities. One second he treated you as though you were as fragile as gossamer stretched thin over your mother’s bone china, and then the next it was as though he was staring at his own reflection; like you were a mirror image of every dark desire he’d ever had. 

Like called to like. 

“How will I know that you’re not betraying me? Feyd, my life is at stake here. I can’t spend what might be my final hours-” He closed the distance between you in a single long legged stride, reaching out to grip your wrist in his large hand. The size difference between the two of you had once made you shake at the knees. At one point he had seemed like an unclimbable obstacle that stood between you and your freedom. What was he to you now? 

“Stop talking like that,” He bit out, the muscles in his shoulders visibly tense at the mention of such finality. “I will cross one finger against the other when I’m telling a lie. Something only for you to see and to know.” He held up his free hand, demonstrating for you as he wrapped his middle finger over his pointer. 

A signal. 

“And how do I know that even that is the truth?” You whispered, the words painful to utter. 

Lost. You were so lost here. Somewhere along the way you had forgotten which way was up and which way was down. Would anyone blame you for asking him to prove his loyalty? Was it really so selfish to need such assurance? 

The pressure of his hold on your wrist loosened as he looked down at you, his jawline clicking. You could practically see the thoughts flashing behind his blue-grey eyes. Finally he settled on something, letting you go completely so that he could walk over towards the bed you had shared. Slowly he bent his large, broad body down, his pale hand running along the bottom of the frame. He retrieved a long, thinly crafted blade and showed it to you. 

‘Every night that you’ve slept here could have been your last.’ It was a confession, you supposed. Was he trying to show you how weak and naive you were? You’d checked the cushions in the seating area, beneath his pillows and mattress- but you hadn’t thought to check the bedframe for any sort of weapon that could be used against you. Shame slapped you across the face, and yet again you were reminded of how weak you were. 

Weak and stupid, the worst kind of combination. 

He moved back over towards you, the blade still clutched in one of his hands while his other reached back out for you. He took hold of your wrist again, even as you began shaking your head. “No, please. . .” You whined out, your pupils blowing out wide as your heart began to race. 

His nostrils flared and for a second he just stood there, the blade in one hand and your wrist in the other. “There’s no need to be afraid.” When he spoke in hushed tones like this it almost sounded like a hiss. You thought back to your first meeting with the Reverend Mother, your stomach clenching as a new kind of fear settled over you. 

Feyd had never been a man. He had always been an animal. The person before you wasn’t. . . wasn’t like you. He could treat you softly, but things like that didn’t come naturally to him. Reassuring you at all went against the basis of who he was, and still he tried. 

“My flesh is yours,” He told you, holding your gaze as he pressed the blade against his forearm. “As is my blood.” You flinched and tried to wrench your hand away from his as you watched him press against the leather handle. Onyx blossomed from the cut and fell onto your hand. It pooled in your palm as you fought to slide your wrist from his hold. It was so warm. . . and you wanted it to stop. 

“Enough.” You barked out, trying your hardest to take a step back from him. He kept you in place, his face displaying no sense of pain or even discomfort. 

“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap?” 

He pressed the blade down harder, the small streams of blood turning into a river. It dripped from between your fingers and began to seep down the front of your linen day-dress. “Everything I am in exchange for all that you have to offer.” 

“There’s an animal kind of trick.”

“Feyd, enough.” Your voice shook as you stared in horror at the blood. All of that blood. . . for you. 

All that he was. All that he would ever be. 

In exchange. 

He dropped the blade beside him, the loud clanging sound causing your shoulders to quiver. The pale man stared at your hand for a few seconds and all you could do was watch him, your whines and prayers for him to stop whatever this was dying out on your tongue. His eyes. . . oh, heavens. You felt as though you’d disintegrate into nothing but ashes where you stood. The light in those blue eyes had been completely snuffed out and all that remained was darkness. It was almost as though the shadows that seemed to constantly wrap themselves around him had seeped beneath his skin. There were no pupils. No irises. Just. . . black. As black as his blood that now coated your hands. 

He was everywhere. Feyd was everywhere you looked, every scent you breathed in, every touch and sensation- and your chest heaved with some sort of emotion that you couldn’t decipher. It felt as though your heart was ripping at your lungs, at your throat, begging to be let out. You needed to be freed of these horrible, sinful thoughts. 

The pale Harkonnen warrior stared at you as though you were the beginning and end of everything. Nothing else existed outside of this room. The sight of his own life essence spilling down your skin, staining you. . . was the epitome of perversion. 

This animal- this paragon looked at you with phantom eyes and wished that he could possess you. 

He pulled your wrist higher up, his attention dropping down to your dripping palm. Slowly, too slowly, he dipped the tip of his pointer finger into the pool that he had created. He lifted his hand up between the both of you before pressing his thumb against your chin, prying your lips open. 

You were too confused to understand what it was that he wanted from you. It wasn’t until the metallic taste of his blood spread over your tongue did you truly understand what he was doing. Your eyes, now the size of saucers, locked on his. For a brief second you thought about biting his finger. Whatever was happening between the two of you was too intense for you to handle, especially with your mental wellbeing hanging in limbo. 

But you let his finger caress your tongue. You even opened your mouth wider for him, moaning when his lips curled up at your sudden obedience. His eyes flickered up to your eyes from your mouth when he heard the sound, a responding groan meeting your ears. Deep and guttural, as though he wanted you to know that he felt it too. He felt all of it. He hooked his finger on your bottom teeth, sliding them against your gums and then. . . 

Then he released your mouth. “Swallow me.” 

And so you did. The thickness of it coated your mouth and tongue, marking you from the inside out. You weren’t sure why you were so willing to do as he told, but there wasn’t a single part of you that didn’t want to please him at that moment. 

It was almost as though he had watched the fight and the fear drain from your body. You stood there, languid and malleable before him. 

It was odd. . . but it was like you could finally breathe for the first time in days. 

“You never ask for permission.” You couldn’t project your voice the way that you wanted to. You had spoken in a barely audible whisper. 

“No,” His voice was low enough to be considered a hum in response. “Never.” 

And as if to prove that as fact, Feyd lowered his lips down onto yours. His grip was still on your stained wrist and you were positive that if he hadn’t been holding you in some way then you might have just floated away. The floor would have swallowed you up whole. . . or that black, black sun. The strength of his bruising hold acted as a tether, tying you to the floor and to him. Your lips tightened, compressing for a split second against the softness of his kiss. It wasn’t as searing as the other ones had been. A part of you reviled this small shred of humanity that he was showing you, the paranoia still biting at the back of your mind. Was he doing this to disarm you? 

But you remembered his blood and his promise. You could feel it beginning to dry on your skin, growing cold and tacky: a reminder. His flesh was yours. 

In that instant you yielded- submitted fully to all of it. You assaulted his mouth with your own, lips melting against his as your free hand moved up to cup the side of his neck, pressing him harder against you. The suddenness of your surrender had him staggering, his hold on your wrist loosening in his shock before he finally let you go, his strong arms wrapping around you so tightly that you feared that you might be crushed into his chest. 

Would you really mind that though? 

You allowed his lips to birth you anew and gave into the deranged desires. If this was what it meant to be mentally insane then. . . you weren’t sure if you wanted to be put back together again. His lips moved against yours, tongue curling into your mouth in such a way that you couldn’t help but wonder what other parts of you he could set ablaze. He owned your mouth, just as he had before when his finger had slipped past your teeth. 

No doubt he could taste the metallic film that still clung to your tongue, and you let him. Your newly freed hand slid along the expanse of his chest, and without needing to see it you knew that you were leaving your own marks. Hands, fingers, blood- it was everywhere. 

No matter how close he pressed himself against you it still didn’t feel enough. 

Feyd was kissing you with a fervent need- not to own you, but as if he truly couldn’t get enough. He pressed his lips against yours as though he could absorb you into his body. It would be safer there, you thought. If he wanted to breathe you in then you would damn well let him. 

He broke the kiss so that he could look at you, and after he had gotten his fill he pressed his lips against yours in small pecks. Once, twice, and then his eyes opened once again. The hunger in his eyes was still there, of course, but there was a strange sense of longing there too. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but before he could open his mouth you were stepping up on your toes, pressing your lips against his neck. 

You thought of every demented thing you’d wanted to do to him since you’d been stuck on this forsaken planet. At one point you’d wanted to gut him, then silence him and now. . . now you wanted him so badly that your hands shook as they began to pull at the waistband of his pants. The sound he let out was so loud that you were positive that someone had to have heard it. The moan was all beast, no hint of man to be found. 

“You’re covered in it,” He panted out, tilting his head to the side so that you could continue biting and licking at his pale neck. His skin tasted of the spicy, herbal soap he had used in the shower. You wanted more of him. All of him, in fact. “On our wedding night I’ll give you even more of it.” He promised, his hands moving to braid themselves into your hair. The tips of his fingers massage your scalp roughly, and when you bite down a little too hard on his soft skin you can hear a few strands of your hair popping as they are ripped from the roots. 

“I’ll mark every inch of your body,” He removed your hand from the waistband of his pants, and right when you were about to cry out a complaint he pressed your palm against his straining front. He allowed you to run your fingers along every inch of him, shuddering at the feel of your fingers- so tiny- brushing against him. “Make you drink it even.”

Those words tumbling from his lips sounded, in a fucked up way, as though he was worshipping you. The dam had burst wide open and the two of you could do nothing to keep Feyd from uttering every cursed, demented thought he’d ever had about you. 

“I’ll coat myself in it. My blood and cum belong in and on every inch of you.” 

You were finally touching him. Not because he was forcing it out of you but because you chose to. Again and again, as your fingers continued their exploration, you reminded yourself that this was what you wanted. 

More, more, more. 

“Na-Baron?” No one, not once over the days that you’d spent in Feyd’s quarters, had ever dared to knock on the door. Usually they’d place your meals just outside of it around the same time each day, not wanting to be sliced to ribbons after everything that had happened. The sound of the foreign voice cooled your hot blood so quickly that you swore that you could hear it fizzing in your ears, the heat being replaced by white, cold terror. 

For a few elongated moments Feyd stared at you, his breathing labored. You watched as he sucked in a singular breath, caging it in his lungs for a beat before blowing it out slowly. One step at a time he detached himself from you, looking pained all the while. You silently cursed whoever it was that had interrupted the both of you. 

This had been the first thing that you had, quite possibly, ever done for yourself. Every day, even back on Caladan, had been spent training with Paul. Since the day of your birth you had known that you would be shipped off, married to someone that you knew very little about. Every day had become a waiting game, filled with meaningless marriage training. 

This moment had been just for you. You had wanted him more than anything, and if not for the interruption then you would have more than willingly given yourself to him completely. It was all so complex, and you weren’t sure of the meaning behind it all. Had you come to care for Feyd or was it just the release that you were searching for? Either way, you had wanted it. Whatever it meant. 

“What is it?” 

You tried to drown out the voices as you slowly moved away from the sitting area and further into the room, realizing now that the two of you probably looked deranged. As you stared down at your clothes you finally noticed that this was all. . . so gruesome. With a small gasp you began pawing at your dress, noticing the sheer amount of blood that had been spilled. How deeply had he cut himself? Was he still bleeding, even now? 

You hurried to the bathroom, turning the sink on so that you could wash your hands. 

This place felt as though it had already stolen years of your life from you, when in actuality it couldn’t be more than two weeks. Still, you’d lived every hour on edge and in constant earth shattering terror. For the first time in those three hundred and thirty-six hours you didn’t feel alone. In fact. . . you felt good, if anything. A ten ton weight had been lifted from your chest. 

You didn’t just have a protector. An Atreides had somehow managed to find themselves a damned champion. 

“Our presence is needed at the arena,” Feyd started, crowding the door frame as you continued to scrub at your fingers. One of his hands reached out, as if to stop you, but he let it fall back at his side before his fingers could grip yours. “We need to make an appearance.” 

Yes, you should have expected that. Everyone must want to see the sacrificial lamb that had been led to the slaughter.

The black sun had set a few hours ago, and the light of the moon was blinding as you were led down a long black corridor and up a steep, obsidian staircase. The new color palette of your life: black, grey and white- it blinded you now as you gripped Feyd’s steady hand. The balcony had a clear view of the entire arena, the white sand below catching the rays of the full moon that hung high, suspended in the air above you. 

A few cloaked figures were seated, their backs towards you as they stared out at the scene unfolding before them. A loud voice that you didn’t recognize was narrating the carnage, the loud screams and voices of the crowd assaulting your ears. The arena itself reminded you of the training grounds that you and Feyd had spent much of your time over the last two weeks. It was so strange to think that it had been two full weeks since the day that you had threatened the Harkonnen man out on that sandy terrain, poised and ready to kill him. Back then you had wanted to spill his blood, especially if it had meant that you could find your way back to your family. 

It had been a fool's errand: husband or not, you were never meant to return to the life that you had lived before. 

The black gown that had been prepared for you was uncomfortable and so long that you had to kick your feet out just so that you wouldn’t trip on the train. You felt ridiculous and missed the breathable fabrics and gossamer of your home planet. As you looked out at the sea of spectators you realized that you blended right in. If you had been wearing a veil to disguise your facial features then you would have been just another Harkonnen, jowls wide and drooling as you stared out at the bloody terrain. Thirsty for carnage and wrath. 

The sun had begun to change you. You were no longer favored by the light. 

The hand clutching yours was a stark reminder of that, as was the way that you clung to him right back. “An hour. Tolerate this for an hour.” He whispered in your ear. 

His lips were still swollen from your kisses. The moment that had been shared between you had been far from gentle, but it had been the closest thing to loving that you’d ever experienced. You didn’t startle as he reassuringly squeezed your hand. 

The Bene Gesserit’s eventual arrival had been expected. You knew, eventually, someone from the Order would come and check on how the marriage ceremony was proceeding. You doubted that they’d been made aware of the recent threats. 

It was doubtful that they’d even care.

You’d recognized the old, hateful hag even with her veil on, the downward tilt of her lips visible even from a hazy distance. You squint your eyes against the light, bowing your head ever so slightly as you began to take the empty seat beside her. Imperceptibly Feyd reached out, moving around you so that he could take the seat next to the familiar woman and his uncle. It was a kindness that you happily accepted. 

“Mother.” It was a practiced greeting, but she nodded her head in your direction, her eyes still cast towards the arena. 

It took a few seconds for your eyes to adjust fully to the light, the white bodies in the sand finally actualizing themselves as your pupils dilated. A man was on his knees, crawling towards a discarded dagger. The white landscape beneath him had been dyed with his blood. 

It was nothing you hadn’t seen before. You tried to rationalize that fact with yourself once you discerned that one of his legs had been completely severed at the knee. Still, as he inched forward, digging himself even further into the sand beneath him, you couldn’t help the bile that began crawling its way up your throat. 

“The gladiators know how special tonight is for the two of you,” Vladimir said with a sneer, his eyes catching on your face. “They were instructed to make it as flashy as possible.” 

You had to turn your head, the disgust darkening your eyes as you cast down your gaze. 

“You indulge me too much, uncle.” Feyd’s lips tilted up with a sick grin, one that you recognized from days past. 

The warrior- if you could even call him that- gave a final cry as he finally reached his blade. The poor bastard wasn’t even given enough time to grip the hilt in his bloody palm before the gladiator struck down with his own kindjal. 

It sliced through the air in a wide ark, cutting through shadows, cloth and bone as it hit its mark. The sound drained from the surrounding stands as the Harkonnens stood up on their feet. Their pale, terrifying faces gaping as they took in the carnage. 

Your chest heaved before you could stop yourself as you watched the warrior’s decapitated head roll across the ground, his eyes wide and lifeless. You were too caught up in the moment to even realize that Feyd had gripped the bell-sleeve of your dress, yanking you back down as you began to stand up. 

Escape. You needed to escape. 

“Your promised one seems eager to get up close.” The baron chuckled in his seat, having seen your reaction. 

“Our customs are unfamiliar to her. She will learn in time.” Feyd’s excuses for your strange behavior were becoming second nature to him now. 

“Perhaps you are eager to show her how skilled you are,” The Baron leaned forward ever so slightly so that he could meet your gaze, his chair creaking beneath his weight. “Your future husband is the most skilled gladiator that Giedi Prime has ever bore witness to. No one in this entire arena could ever match his might.” 

“I feel incredibly lucky.” And you did. Knowing that he was planning to help you fight your battles settled your stomach, but you couldn’t help but imagine yourself in that poor warrior’s place. The Harkonnens were no doubt wishing that you would get pushed onto that cold sand so that your colored blood could paint their arena walls. 

As if on cue the animals began to scream, raising their palms up to the sky as the gladiator gripped the severed head by its hair. Slowly he turned, letting every woman, man and child get a good view of the brutality of it. Finally he turned to you, his black eyes seemingly glaring straight through you. 

“An offering, lady Atreides.” He called out over the screams. 

Beside you Feyd tensed, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he bared his teeth at the other male. The Baron laughed loudly, clapping his hands together in gleeful approval. “It seems Feyd is eager to give you an offering of his own. Why don’t you volunteer yourself to fight?” 

The man beside you seemed tempted to take his uncle up on that offer. Whatever the other male had just done must have been a sign of disrespect. 

“He’s goading me,” Feyd seemed to read your mind, his blue eyes narrowed on the other pale creature below. “He’s presenting himself to you.” 

The warrior continued to grin up at the balcony, his eyes promising bloodshed. 

You blinked, stomach churning as you slowly turned to look at the reverend mother. She kept her eyes on the warrior, feigning interest. She must have seen much destruction in her long life because the old crow didn’t even bat an eye at the scene before her. She looked just as disinterested as she had that very first night you had made her acquaintance. Being stranded here with the Baron and reverend mother was a terrifying thought, but you didn’t dare beg Feyd to stay with you. The last thing you needed to do was show weakness to either one of them. 

So you sucked in a small breath and straightened your shoulders, looking expectantly at the both of them. You waited for the Baron to stand up and declare that his nephew would be dueling the unruly gladiator. No doubt you’d be cornered the second that he stepped away from the balcony. Not once had you been left alone with the Baron, and you silently wondered if his hatred would slip into his speech the second his “adoring” family member was out of earshot. 

“I wish to be married before I present her with an offering of flesh.” Feyd said through clenched teeth, his eyes still on the gladiator. The two of them seemed to be having a standoff with their eyes, communicating something that you couldn’t see nor understand. 

“The both of you already smell heavily of bloodletting. It seems to me that the two of you are already bound.” The Baron seemed smug in his observation, especially when you quickly whirled to face him with wide eyes. 

Smell? He could. . . smell Feyd’s blood on you? 

Feyd’s lips tilted up into a small, cocky smile as he turned to face his uncle. “You wanted us to try for offspring as soon as possible. We have been quite busy these last few days.” He placed his hand in yours as he spoke. 

One finger curled over the other inside of your palm. A lie. 

“I am pleased to hear so.” And the Baron, despite his apparent hatred of you, did seem pleased. He didn’t actually want Atreides-Harkonnen children running around. 

No, he was pleased that his nephew had deflowered and sullied you. 

“There will be another time for me to properly show my wife what I am capable of. I will offer her that man’s head as a wedding gift.” Feyd promised, and with the look on his face you were sure that he would deliver it to you on a silver platter. 

Your grip on sanity must have slipped. The black sun must have finally tainted your heart because heavens, with the new knowledge that the Harkonnens possessed an unnatural sense of smell, you had to press your thighs together in the hopes that no one around you could smell your arousal. 

“Yes,” The Baron hummed pridefully, his lips turning up into a secretive smile. “I have a feeling that our lady Atreides will become well acquainted with the arena in due time.”

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An Heir: Part 2

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: You and Feyd intend to be together forever--marry, have children, lead Giedi Prime side by side--but your plans are disrupted when the Reverend Mother of the Bene Gesserit reveals Lady Fenring is pregnant and, to Feyd's utter shock, the baby is his.

Notes/Warnings: pregnancy

Words: 2100

Part 1

Reader POV

Composed as you can, you rush out of the room, your footsteps melding with the scraping of chair legs against the floor as Lords and Ladies rise from their seats. Through the cacophony, you can almost make out his steps—his distinct stride—but you keep going, keep pushing to reach a haven. Where you will find one, however, you have no idea. Your frantic thoughts are interfering with your once-memorized layout of the fortress.

The door thuds as it closes behind you, forcing the voices of great leaders to blend into one thick mass; gurgly and distorted as if your head has been dunked underwater. You can feel the air being sucked out of you, lungs straining for breath after breath as you hurry down a hallway.

Another thud bounces off the walls, followed by footsteps that quicken in pace. You gasp, pushing yourself to run faster, but your skirts work against you, the fabric catching under your shoes. If only you could kick the heels off, rip through the stitched seams of your dress so it may fall to the floor. But what would that do other than leave crumbs for him to find?

You meet a corner and are faced with three options: two halls with no nooks to tuck yourself into, or a door, which you hope can be locked tight from the other side. You go for the door.

Thankfully, the knob twists without resistance, but as you push open the metal slab, an arm wraps around your waist, a body presses against your back, and you’re shoved inside.

Once in the room, he releases you from his grasp and you spin around to find him locking the door; a click that seals you within your cage. Slowly, he turns to face you.

His breathing is heavy. His chest and shoulders rise and fall with each intake and release of oxygen. Blue eyes are wide, trained on the floor at your feet for what feels like an eternity before they start on a path up to your face.

The stare is agonizing, and within it a mixture of conflicting emotions that shakes you to your core. Then his gaze slides down to your abdomen. He swallows and begins to take cautious steps forward.

You’re frozen solid, a statue vulnerable to whatever he intends to do or say, and your mind runs wild with possibilities. But when all that separates your bodies is a few remaining inches of stifled air, he drops to his knees. His hands rise to rest on your stomach, and as his eyes close, he presses his forehead against the slight bump.

“How could you not tell me this?” he says.

Your throat constricts, trapping your words. You try to ignore the heat of his touch seeping through the layer of your clothes; a burn that works to melt away all barriers and leave you raw and real in front of him.

“Answer me.”

“It–” Your tongue darts out to moisten your dry lips before you attempt to choke down the grit that lines your throat. You shouldn’t say it, but it’s right there, trying to pry out of your closed mouth. “It wasn’t your business.”

Feyd’s head snaps up and he shoots you a look that you've seen many times. One that imbues his opponents with utter fear; a shock of chilled skin and chattering knees. And despite how unenjoyable it is to have that look directed at you, you stand strong against it.

“I’ll allow that to slide just this once,” he says, his voice low in warning. His eyes return to your stomach, hand grazing over the bump. “How far?”

The pause lingering in the air you struggle to admit to yourself is not because you do not wish to tell him. Not that it would matter.

Now that he's aware, concealing the truth would be wasted energy. Not to mention, the likelihood of him ceasing his interrogation is practically zero. But the truth is a hard and unrelenting devastation, and to speak it aloud only ripens the pain.

“How. Far?” he repeats.

You take a breath. “Four months,” you tell him, and Feyd’s brow pinches. His lips part. You think his eyes go glassy, as yours had when you’d learned of your condition, but he blinks before you can confirm it. “I didn’t know it,” you continue. “When I left, I didn’t know.”

You watch as each stage from denial to acceptance passes over his face. “Your parents?”

“They haven't noticed.”

“It's obvious.”

“Not to everyone else,” you say. “I hide it well; you just–”

He looks up. “I what?”

Lost nights pop into your mind, the hours spent in bed under low light where his eyes and fingers would map out your body, attending to neglected skin, loving on the marrings scattered about your flesh. If anyone were to see it—you—it’s him.

You sigh. “You know my body.”

In the beat that passes, Feyd’s adam’s apple bobs, then he stands. His thumb rubs back and forth along the curve of your stomach, and as he stares at his hand, you can see wheels spinning, the thoughts tumbling around in his head.

“I’ll kill them,” he says, and your gut instantly somersaults in rejection. “I’ll kill them both. I don’t care. She is not yet my wife, and that thing inside her is not my heir.”

“Feyd…”

“We’ll inform my uncle that you're pregnant. He will accept it, you and I will marry, and he will acknowledge our child as an heir,” he continues. “All he wants is a guaranteed continuation of our line. He'll be satisfied.” Feyd’s palms cup your cheeks and he plants a soft kiss on your forehead. “I’ll take care of it.” Then he starts toward the door.

It takes a moment for the rapid expelling of his words to process fully in your brain, but once you catch up, a swell of panic fills you. There is a baby in that woman. A child—his child—innocent of it’s mother’s actions.

You rush after him and grab onto his arm. “Feyd, stop.” You pull harder as he reaches for the knob. “Just think about what you’re–”

“No!” He shouts, spinning around so harshly that you flinch back. His eyes are pointed daggers, and your hands fall to your sides. “You left! Those witches plotted and schemed and you left!

“I—I had to leave.”

“Why!”

Feyd groans. His hand runs down his face. “I thought I’d been with you that night,” comes out gritty and harsh as his index finger and thumb press against his closed eyelids. “Until she shoved the memories into my mind, I didn’t remember so much as interacting with her, let alone being in a bed with her,” he says. His hand falls away from his face. “And you didn’t give me a chance to explain that.”

“Why?” you huff, your eyes narrowing. “Why?” He can not possibly be this daft. “Because my heart broke! Did you expect me to watch you marry another woman and father another child? I was not going to be your concubine!”

“Why would I?” you spit. “I followed you. I saw you with her. It didn’t require an explanation.”

“And knowing what she is capable of, you thought I was there by my own choice?” he snaps back.

You open your mouth for a retort, but you quickly close it as the remnants of his voice echo around the room. Your eyes are glued to his, but once his voice fades, you’re the one to break the stare-off. Your head dips, gaze dropping to your feet.

Time passes in silence. Then, in the edges of your vision, you see his tense shoulders relax and his clenched fists slowly release.

“You really thought I wanted it,” he says, and it’s a little blade piercing your heart.

Despite how poorly you’ve hid your emotions, you hate that he has so easily cracked you. That your mind is exposed for his exploration. That he can now probably see every painful image that has entered your mind from the moment you saw him follow Lady Fenring into that room.

You sigh and your head raises. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. What matters is what is,” you tell him. “And what she is, is pregnant. The Harkonnen line is secured by another.”

“I don’t want her child. I want ours.”

“Feyd, we are too late.”

“No,” he counters, shaking his head. “I am not losing you twice. I refuse to. You became pregnant before her. You will give birth before her. Our child will be my rightful heir.”

“A Bene Gesserit child will be seen as more valuable than–”

Feyd reaches for you. His hands cup your face again, and his lips meet yours, and as much as you know you shouldn’t allow this, you can’t push him away. It feels too good. Too right. You missed him too much.

Your protective walls crumble so you can take it all in. His taste, which has always been like a drug, pours into your mouth. A warm sensation passes through your veins. Addictive. Pleasing to your brain and nerves. And who cuts themselves off in the middle of a high?

His hands slide into your hair and he holds your head steady as his mouth ravages yours, as his tongue licks yours, as his nose brushes against yours. But then he pulls away.

“Stop this,” he whispers in the hairs-width of space between your lips and his. “You’re staying with me, where you and our baby will be safe. You will marry me. We will have our child,” he says. “I will set this right.”

Your bottom lip quivers, sudden tears surfacing but unshed. “How?

“However I have to.”

—

The Reverend Mother has always been a force—a stony figure; a formidable structure in bodily form—but as she sits across from where Margot stands, her presence has never been more overwhelming, and Margot, who is not one to shrink in front of power, has never felt more squeamish.

“It has been months.” The Reverend Mother’s voice fills the space, her gaze as unbendable as tungsten. “You should be with child by now.”

Lady Fenring bows her head. “Forgive me, Reverend Mother.”

“We can only disguise your lack of progression for so long.”

They’re words Margot has heard many times over the months. However, as the days have tallied, the urgency and threat behind those words has increased. With each visit from the Reverend Mother, her frustration has become more palpable.

“I am aware,” Margot says, “But he grows stronger.”

“Stronger!” the older woman’s voice booms within the cone of silence. “Stronger how?

While not unheard of throughout the millennia, stronger is not a common concern for a Bene Gesserit. Rare can a man’s—or anyone’s—conscious curb the Voice, and Lady Fenring had assured the Reverend Mother of the task's simplicity. After coaxing Feyd-Rautha into her bed on the night of his birthday, she was certain of her success, only to be met with the troubling discovery of her failure. His seed had not implanted within her womb.

At the time, she could not make sense of it. But as she continued to observe him, clarity struck her.

Some part of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen fought back that night. His body had rejected her, and it continues to do so, her capabilities becoming less and less influential with each wasted attempt to seduce him.

“His anger—it aids him in resisting my Voice,” Margot reveals. “And if he cannot hear me, he refuses to touch me.”

The Reverend Mother’s brows dip. Her lips purse in consideration. “He has always been an angry boy. What anger could be potent enough to resist the Voice?”

"He..." Margot swallows hard, “He yearns for her,” she says. “She occupies his mind. There is no room for me.”

The Reverend Mother releases a scoff. “Impossible.”

“We’ve heard of such instances before.”

“And yet, they always break in the end.”

Lady Fenring lightly shakes her head as she recalls her many failed attempts. “I fear he will not,” she counters. “She is here. She arrived with her House this morning. He won’t let her go now.”

The Reverend Mother’s spine straightens in her chair. Her hands clasp the ends of the armrests—a sign of displeasure, not often displayed by a woman of such practiced composure. Margot all but shrinks under her glare.

“Then remove her.”

Alone again - Naturally

Summary: Even around your so-called friend you are alone.

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, loner reader, introvert reader, flirty Clark, low self-esteem, almost accident, fluff, Lois bashing

Alone again. Naturally.

You should’ve known better than to go out with your so-called friend.

A few years back Lois Lane was your best friend. Now you are only an excuse for her to go to a bar or attend a party without one of her flings.

She always was the one drawing all the attention toward her person. In high school, during your freshman year and after you landed your first job at a cat magazine.

Lois Lane. The rising star.

You have always been in her shadow, and this will never change. If you are shy, meek, and introverted, people easily overlook you.

Just like tonight. Lois is once again the center of the party. She chuckles loudly and bathes in the attention she gets from the men in the room.

You sigh deeply, wishing you didn’t follow her invitation to the party her employer throws only for her.

Her latest article got all the attention, while your job led to nothing but articles about birthdays, other people’s weddings, and missing cats.

Your career is just like your love life – non-existent.

Her laughter fills the room, and when she looks your way you hope Lois will save you from drowning in self-pity. Sadly, she turns her back on you to talk to someone else than you.

She always does this. Sometimes you believe she’s the cruelest person on the planet. Maybe she only keeps you around to show you how much better her life is.

“I’ve never seen you around here,” crap, someone found you standing in the corner. Now you have to engage in small talk. You wring your hands and force a smile on your face. “Hi, I’m Clark Kent.”

“Hi,” you glance at his offered hand and murmur your name. “I’m not working here.”

“I got that,” he flashes you a stunning smile. “I assume one of the gentlemen brought his charming girlfriend with him. A shame he left you here.”

“Oh, no,” you shake your head. “Lois invited me and she’s…” You bite your tongue. This man is a stranger, and you don’t want him to believe you are the kind of person talking behind your friend’s back. “She’s busy and I’m not much of a partygoer.”

“Honestly, I came here to hide in the shadows. I’m not much of a partygoer myself,” he grins and finally drops his hand. “So, what do you do for a living.”

“I’m a…” You are embarrassed to admit that you are working for an unimportant online magazine that barely anyone reads. “I write articles.”

“Oh, I’d like to read some. Where can I read them?” He gives you a soft smile. “Anything I should read first?”

“I write about missing cats and such,” you drop your eyes to avert his gaze. “Nothing important like you and Lois. I guess no one even reads the things I write.”

“I’d still like to read your articles.”

“It’s fine, really,” you sniff, and wring your hands again. “I know that the things I write about are boring. No one wants to know about Miss Fluffy ending up stuck in the neighbor’s car. You don’t want to read the things I wrote about.”

“Never underestimate your talent,” Clark tries to cheer you up, but you don’t believe a single word leaving his lips. “I’m sure you are a very good author.”

“No. I’m not.” Your fake smile drops. “I know my place, Mr. Kent.” You get defensive and step back. “You should go back to the party and talk to more interesting people.”

“What about?” He asks as you try to find a way to sneak out of the room without drawing any attention toward you. “Why don’t you come with me and talk to some of the people in the room?”

“I told you, I’m not much of a partygoer, or good at making small talk,” you wince at your words. You sound like the pathetic loser you are in your opinion. “Uh-I should go now.”

“What about Lois?” Clark takes a step toward you. “Don’t you want to say goodbye to her at least?”

You glance at Lois and quickly avert her gaze. She’s not in the mood to hold your hand or talk to you. “I think she’s good without me.” Your voice cracks. “I don’t even know why she invited me.”

“Wait—” Clark tries to stop you, but you hurriedly make your way toward the exit. “Y/N, don’t just go.”

You are out of breath when you finally leave the building. Feeling like a fool for coming here to watch Lois celebrate another milestone in her career.

Before you can go back and apologize to her for leaving without saying goodbye, you hurriedly cross the street.

One moment you want to reach the other side, and the next a car speeds toward you. You gasp, and close your eyes, waiting for the impact.

You don’t feel the car hit you, and you don’t end up dead on the street. You’re suddenly high up in the air, clutching Superman’s suit.

“You should be more careful.”

“I-“ you look up at the superhero you heard so much about. Rumors said that he was dating Lois Lane not so long ago too. At least you read an article telling you so. “Clark?” You furrow your brows as the same soft eyes you saw not moments ago look back at you. “How…?”

“What? I—” He seems to be confused. You’re the first person to uncover his secret. “Y/N, you can’t just run over the street. That’s dangerous.”

“Okay,” you hastily say. I mean, you are floating above a building, your life in a stranger’s hands, and you won't argue with him. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“You can worry me any time,” he wraps one arm around you to bring you closer to his chest. “How about I bring you home?”

“Does…uh…Lois know about your secret identity?” You can’t stop yourself from babbling.

“No,” he whispers lowly. “I guess she wouldn’t have left Clark Kent if she knew I got a secret,” Clark smirks when you look at him with wide, fearful eyes.

“You won’t drop me, right? I swear I won’t tell anyone about your secret.” You claw at him. “No one would listen to me anyway.”

“Do you honestly believe I’d drop you?” He quirks a brow.

“No…I mean…you’re a hero…right?” You pout. “I didn’t want to find out. It’s just…your eyes give you away.”

“I should wear sunglasses from now on,” he laughs while floating toward the next building to land on the rooftop. “If you promise to not tell anyone about my secret, I believe you. And I won’t drop you, sweetness.”

“Hmm…” You nod thoughtfully. “Did you date Lois as Superman too?”

He laughs now. “No. She didn’t know we were the same person. Lois broke up with me for Superman and the stories she wanted to write about him.”

“Oh, that’s awful,” you pat his chest, admiring its firmness. “I’m sorry this happened to you. Sometimes she’s just…” You trail off while patting his chest. “You know…”

“Let me bring you home,” Clark stops you from defending your friend. “Please.”

“Can we…uh…walk?”

“I’m already in my suit and got no clothes to change back into Clark,” he lies. Clark could easily change back into his alter ego, but he’d love to fly you home.

“Does this mean you want to fly?” You suck in a breath. “Do you have a seat belt or something?”

“I’ll bring you home safely, Y/N.” You end up back in his arms. This time you sling your arms around him and hold tight onto Clark for dear life. You close your eyes and hide your face in his chest.

You squeak when he pushes off the building. “Now that you know about my secret, do you want to fly with me again someday?”

“Uh-“ you blink your eyes open but still claw at him. “If you bring me home safely, we can do this again.”

“It’s a date then,” he smiles and flies into the night, making a detour to hold you a little longer…

Part 2: Not alone any longer

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Hiya :) thank you for taking the time to read anything I write. If you like something (and are comfortable with sharing) let me know. It always makes my day! - ❤️ Lauren

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The Harkonnen's Sweet Thing: Part 1, Part 2 - (Atreides!Reader) You watched your brother kill the man you love--a man you were once gifted to by the Baron--and now that he is gone, you think Paul will use you as a political pawn in his war. And you're right. But you're shocked to discover who is demanding to have you.

What Comes at Night: You have nightmares of Feyd's death and he's there to comfort you. *can be read alone* Mark of Luck: You give Feyd your mark of luck before he enters the arena. *can be read alone* Overprotective: Your son is due to be born any day now and Feyd is very protective. He kills anyone who so much as lays a finger on you, but it’s gotten out of control. *can be read alone* The Harkonnen's Loves: Feyd gives his four-year old son his first blade. (Mostly sweet family stuff)

Respect: Your betrothed is a son from one of the Great Houses, an awful man who has enjoyed threatening and scaring you since you were children. Feyd makes it known he doesn't appreciate such disrespectful treatment of the woman he loves.

Do You Love?: Feyd is soft for his wife and only wants to know if she loves him. His wife just wants him to come home.

He Will Hope: Feyd is obsessed with his bride from the moment he sees her, but on their wedding night he finds out she might not feel the same. (Angst, but hopeful ending) *also serves as a very early prequel to Do You Love?*

His: You used to be a Lady, a daughter of a Great House until Feyd took you. Since then, your sole purpose has been to warm his bed, but when Rabban asks about having you for himself, Feyd makes a choice that changes your future.

What He Likes

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: When five daughters of Great Houses arrive on Giedi Prime, Feyd is meant to select one as a wife. But out of all of the foreigners on his territory, it is the Princess of Kaitain’s handmaid that catches his eye.

Notes/Warnings: Feyd is possessive as usual.

Words: 3100

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen likes what he likes. There’s no complexity to it. No hidden criteria. What he likes is decided in a straightforward manner based solely on gut instinct, and questions of whether or not it is wise to like what he likes do not follow. He simply sees a thing, enjoys how it looks, and therefore, likes it.  

When the eligible women of five Great Houses stand before him in a neat little row, he likes none of them. Four Ladies and a Princess, all of whom do not hit him in the gut with that feeling, and all of whom have flaws fatal to the name of House Harkonnen. 

Atreides—a lame attempt at a peace offering. Fenring—a Bene Gesserit witch. Corrino—a spoiled, royal brat existing under the shadow of her eldest sister. And the other two, Kenric and Wallach, have faces he cannot be expected to look upon for the rest of his life. 

Not one brushes the cusp of satisfactory. Not one is good enough to take for a bride. But then, as he dismisses them so they may return to their quarters before the evening meal, Feyd spots a thing he likes. 

The Princess’s handmaid. A woman who pays him not a lick of attention as she trails the royal out the door. A woman who forces the pace of his heartbeats to thump twice as fast.

Perfect, he thinks. Stunning.

And without hesitation, Feyd selects his wife. 

—

Reader POV

“The na-Baron has sent a guard to collect you,” Fenring’s handmaid informs you as she comes back into the room, tying a robe around her waist and plopping down on her assigned bed beside Wallach. 

A lump settles in your stomach. The na-Baron—the man who has encouraged your future demise at the hands of the Great Ladies due to the attention he has neglected to provide them in favor of keeping his eyes on you. 

Over seven days, they’ve been ignored entirely, as has his sense of propriety. He has invited you to dine beside him, filling your plate before bothering to notice if the women of high status have had their plates filled. He has asked you questions and listened attentively to the answers you’ve felt obligated to provide. He has ensured you’ve had a seat of phenomenal vantage to witness his arena duels, seeking you out and smirking at you as lifeless bodies slide off of his blade. 

For every new morning there comes a new method of making fools out of the women who could have your neck sliced open should they so choose. And now, so it seems, he intends to bring that trouble into your nights.

“Why?” you ask, trying to cast aside the painfully obvious. You would be thrilled if one of the other handmaids could chime in with something unexpected, something not nearly as vulgar as what you’re imagining he wants from you. 

Wallach and Fenring shoot you a look that suggests you can’t possibly be so ignorant. 

“Why do you think?” Atredies says. “I’m surprised it took him this long.” She swipes a comb through her long locks before pointing the end of the tool at you. “You need to find a way to end whatever this is before it gets you executed. Our Ladies are just as irate over the situation as the Princess.”

Irate—a gentle word. Requests from the Princess have been trivial to a degree you’ve never before dealt with in her servitude. She has snatched any opportunity to humiliate you, degrade you. It is a burden you have shouldered with grace, but so long as the na-Baron refuses to find enjoyment in your torture, your unprotested compliance will continue to mean nothing to the Princess. 

You wish he would laugh with her, just once. It would do you a world of good. But he’s not required to amuse the Princess. He does not have to bow to anyone since the Harkonnen’s growth in power shifted the hierarchy of the Houses. 

“What do you propose I do?” you ask. 

“Let him have you,” Kenric says. “Let him get you out of his system. If he’s no longer infatuated with you, he will finally choose a bride.”

You blanche but you do not immediately dismiss her suggestion. Kenric’s handmaid is older than you by at least a decade, and when she speaks, the rest of you listen. She has watched handmaids come and go from the mistakes they have made. She has seen how replaceable a young woman of humble birth with a limited skill set is. She knows the fights worth fighting and the fights worth surrendering, and there is much to be learned from her experience. 

“That simple?” you say. 

“If you make it that simple,” she replies with a nod. Then she grabs you by your shoulders and spins you around, lightly shoving you toward the door. “It’s for your own good. So go.”

Your heart batters your ribcage as you recover from a stumble. Your first steps are hesitant, unsure if you’re doing the right thing. But you collect yourself, and without looking back, you continue onward, coming face-to-face with a towering figure; pale, a ghost stark against the shadowed hallway. 

“Do not lag behind,” is all he says before he turns on his heel.

You follow him through darkness, past door after door, rounding corner after corner until he finally halts and gestures for you to enter a room. Knowing it isn’t a choice, you step inside. 

You’re relieved to find the space decently lit from the glowing orb of white light hovering near a desk. You scan the area. His bedroom, each inch of it covered top to bottom in black. Painted walls, marble floors, drawn curtains, furniture—all a shade so deep that if you peer too long at any given section, your mind will begin to play tricks on your vision. 

“What’s your name?” suddenly greets your ear in a gravelly voice. Your body flinches and your head whips in the direction of the sound. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed him leaning on the wall with his arms crossed, his brow low, his chin tilted toward his chest. 

He stares at you. Intensely. Unceasingly. A gaze that reaches past what you’ve witnessed in your lifetime. You’ve seen a lover’s stare between couples, but this is different, and it’s clear you’ve lived naive to how deeply a man can look at a woman. 

Heat blooms on your face. “My name?” You hadn’t noticed that he’d yet to ask. To be fair, though, no one ever asks for your name. Perhaps he understands the danger of doing so in front of others. 

“You have one, I assume,” he says. “Or do I need to give you one?”

You frown. “I’m not a slave.”

The na-Baron’s lips twitch in a smirk. His chin lifts and you get a full view of his face. The angles of his cheekbones. The straight line of his nose. The edge of his jaw, sharp from the shadows butting up against his illuminated alabaster skin.

He’s beautiful—you can’t pretend otherwise. A rare kind of beautiful. The kind of beautiful that makes no sense. Strange, alien beauty that wreaks havoc on your heart rate. 

You haven’t let yourself appreciate just how beautiful he is prior to now, always making an effort to look downward in his presence. And thank goodness you had enough sense. Had you taken a moment to truly observe him, you might not have been able to resist admiring. 

“Then tell me your name,” he says, and gulping down the knot in your throat, you do as he asks. He tests the word on his tongue. He nods. “Good.”

“Good?”

“I like it,” he tells you. “Which means I don’t have to change it.”

You tamp down your offense, steeling your face as you remind yourself of how little control you have. A handmaid versus the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. Your odds are poor. 

“With all due respect, my Lord, what is it I can do for you?”

His eyes continue to be invasive, hungry, like the lions you used to read about in your spare time. Practically uncanny. The na-Baron captures the predatory glare of the beast so well that they could stand side-by-side and you would not be able to decide which of the two is more menacing.

Pushing off the wall, he slowly closes in on you until he’s a single pace away from colliding with your body. His smirk drops, then he says, “How would you like to be my wife?”

Your lungs seize. Death flashes before your eyes, a scene more horrific than what you’ve been conjuring over the last handful of days. Instead of the Princess’s hand around your neck, all of Kaitain will be chanting for your head on a spike. If they hear of the handmaid who went to Giedi Prime as a servant only to attempt stealing from the Princess, they’ll drag you to public slaughter. The handmaid who overstepped her bounds—let us make an example of her betrayal. 

“I asked you a question,” he continues, yanking you from your thoughts. 

You take a breath. “My Lord, I am not the offering from Kaitain. I am the Princess’s handmaid.”

Blue orbs lazily rake up and down your figure. You contain a shiver. “Yes, I have eyes.”

“Then you know she is the one for you to choose.”

“The Princess does not suit my taste,” he admits shamelessly, unbothered. His gaze falls to your lips, neediness passing between you as if he’s desperate to claim them with his own. It quickly fades, and he meets your eyes again. His voice is soft when he says, “The Emperor should not have sent you with his daughter. He knows what you look like. It is not my problem if he is foolish enough to tempt me with something better than what he views as his best.”

The dangerous flattery makes your stomach flutter, but then it flips unpleasantly. “There is no better choice than the Prin–”

“That was not a statement up for debate.”

Your teeth pierce the delicate flesh of your inner cheek. “You have many other options,” you say.

“And I have decided you are one of them.”

At your lack of retort, the corner of his lips quirk. He’s dead set, and you’re not sure you have the manipulative abilities to change his mind. Still, you try.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the blood for it, as you know,” you say in a final attempt. “Noble blood mixes with that of its status.”

“Noble blood does what it wants. That’s why we have all that we have, wouldn’t you agree?” he says, and you do agree. You have to. Noble blood knows only how to take. “There is no logic to me selecting the Princess. Should I marry her, you will be brought along as her handmaid, and she will find herself alone in a cold bed while I will be keeping you warm in mine. Is that the kind of marriage you think she envisions?”

He allows the question to hang in the air, and in that time, you imagine what he’s suggesting. You imagine the Princess shunned to another room. You imagine his body on top of yours in the bed that stands behind him, his mouth attached to your neck, sucking in time with the thrusts of his cock. Against your will, you imagine how he would feel, the pleasure he would grant you over and over, and you shake your head to banish the thoughts. 

It can never happen. You know what the Princess wants. Should she become the na-Baronness, she will want him as her husband in more than name alone, alliances solidified through multiple heirs, the power dynamic rebalanced. For that to occur, his affection and a willingness to sacrifice his dominance is required. And you cannot be the thing to throw that plan into a state of turmoil. 

“If I give myself to you now, will you be satisfied?” you ask. 

His brow pinches, the expression on his face nestling somewhere between irritation and confusion. “For tonight,” he says. “But what of tomorrow night, and the night after? Am I expected to have you once and never again?”

“Anything more will put my life at risk upon my return to Kaitain. If the Emperor learns of it, it will be an embarrassment, and regardless of whether or not you choose the Princess as your wife, he will have me killed for daring to be a threat to your union,” you tell him. “And if you do choose her and I return here as her handmaid—though I suspect she will be selecting a replacement soon enough—she will kill me the second she sees anything other than disgust on your face when you look at me.”

A beat passes. The na-Baron hums. He reaches up and takes a lock of your hair, rubbing the strands together and curling them around his finger. A wave of goosebumps makes its way up your arms. 

“Then I suppose you should not return to Kaitain,” he says. 

Your head jerks back. The hair falls from his grasp. “What?”

“If your life is at risk, then you will not leave Giedi Prime. The Princess can go, but not you. The Ladies, the other handmaids, I will send them back tomorrow,” he says. He leans down, his nose mere inches from yours. His breath blankets your skin. “But not you.”

“You can’t just do that,” you whisper, but you know they’re wasted words. There’s already an overarching sense of loss on your side of the room. 

His hand returns to your face and a gasp catches in your throat as his knuckle grazes down your cheek. 

“Of course, I can,” he says. “The Houses bend to Harkonnen will. I can do whatever I want; have whatever I like.” He cups your chin and runs his thumb over your mouth, pulling down on your bottom lip before releasing it. “And what I want is you. So I will have you.”

Your pulse thrums, ears ringing. “Solely for the sake of sating carnal desire. Being your wife is not nec–”

“Carnal desire is a present concern,” he says. “But I will not have another claiming you after I have done so. What’s mine is mine. You will be my wife, and in time, we will know one another in all ways.”

The uproar. News will spread like wildfire, and you are unlikely to survive its rage. The other Great Houses will do nothing, you know, as they do not have the means or might to push against the Harkonnens, but Corrino? The Emperor? 

Surely the na-Baron is aware of the intellect of Kaitain’s leaders. He must understand that the snubbing of the Princess will undoubtedly incite retaliation from the Emperor. And you’re fairly certain in which form that retaliation will come. Where the Sardaukar's strength would fail against Harkonnen forces, their assassins’ infiltration would not.

“I’ll protect you,” he says. “If they dare, I’ll protect you.” 

You could scoff. 

Protect you. Why bother?

Surely, he doesn't want you enough to go to those lengths. You aren’t import–

Suddenly, his hand is sliding around to the back of your neck, and your face is involuntarily heating, and he's muttering a faint “come here” as he quickly draws you into a kiss.

There’s a softness to it that offsets his hardness. A gentleness in the caress. But he has caught you unprepared, cut you off at your thoughts, and the shock has you planting your palms on his chest and shoving.

His lips are parted, his chest expanding and deflating with heavy inhales and exhales. He says nothing as unexpected regret sinks into you—regret that isn’t there simply because he is the na-Baron and you are a servant who shouldn’t be bold enough to interrupt him as he’s doing as he pleases, but regret rather because for that brief moment he felt…good, and you’re overwhelmed by the sense that you’ve cheated yourself. 

You want to try it again, just to see, just to test the feeling, just to understand why you crave more. So you let the tenseness in your shoulder muscles relax. Your heavy lungs release a long-held huff of air. He watches your guard collapse at your feet. 

Slowly, he reaches for you again, but he pauses just as you are ready to feel his touch as if expecting you to flinch, to run, to hide. You do none of those things, so his fingers knit into your hair and he guides your lips back to his. 

Soft still—gentle—but then it changes to passion and greediness, and like the strike of a match, every inch of you is consumed by a flushing fire. Your heart races. Your brain fuzzes. Appendages tremble until the pleasant pressure of his lips on yours settles into your bones. 

His tongue seeks entrance and you willingly open for him. When your tastes blend, his arm sneaks past yours to lock around your waist and he jerks you forward, welding your chest to his. 

The Princess slices through the haziness in your head and you feel the intrusive instinct to end what is happening, but you can’t quite bring yourself to do it. The capability is just out of reach, and it floats further and further away with each second of him kissing you; kissing you as if trying to prove to you how right this is. And you suppose he is succeeding because the thought of stopping makes your gut twist in protest. 

Then he groans—a sound that reverberates throughout your entire body, that makes your veins pulsate and your nerves tingle—and any lingering fear of the repercussions of betrayal dissipates to a barely detectable twinge; enough to permit the removal of your restraints. 

With newfound freedom, you grip his shoulders and attempt to bring him closer than physical bounds will allow. You let your tongue play with his. You nip at his lips. You think you’ve lost your mind, maybe slipped to an alternate universe where this makes sense, but his arm clutches you tighter, anchoring you to reality. 

Well before you’re ready, he breaks apart from you, and with great difficulty, you keep yourself from chasing after his lips like a magnet drawn to its other half. 

He grins at your obvious struggle. 

“You’ll do just fine as my wife,” he says, his hand coming around to cup your cheek. His thumb strokes back and forth along your cheekbone. Another peck lands on your lips. “You might even find yourself enjoying the position…and everything I intend to offer you.”

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N: Hello little doves! We're coming closer to the finish line with this fic. Maybe 2 chapters left, so enjoy! Don't worry I have other ideas about our Na-Baron ;) (Tag List is open! Let me know if i forgot to tag you or if you changed your handle, cus i can’t find some of ya’ll sometimes 🥲)

Warnings: Smut continous!

Words: 2.308K

Chapter Fourteen

 He knew his size so he tried his best but the animal inside of him was clawing to take over, to give in to his instincts. He tried to focus on her, on her face, on her body, on the way she felt around him, he tried to keep his movements measured, even as the need for more grew stronger with each moment. It was a battle of wills, a struggle against himself and he tried to stay the course. As she had gotten used to the rhythm she knew the look on his face, he was controlling himself, she knew that he wanted to be rough, ‘’Feyd,’’ she moaned, ‘’Faster..’’ his eyes darkened with the last sentence, his body responding instantly. Hearing her say ‘’Faster.’’ Sent a spark through him, and the wild animal inside of him started to break free. She was challenging him, making him lose control,  and the animal inside him wanted to rise to the challenge. Feyd felt her trust in him, and that only made him want her more and he started to pick up the pace, his body moving with a new intensity. She moaned in pleasure and shock, she was once again reminded of how strong he was, her hands went to his muscular chest, her tits bouncing with the fast rhythm, Feyd grabbed her wrists tightly with one hand and pinned them above her head, he wanted to take her, dominate her, ‘’I trust you..’’ she managed to say, she wanted to see him lose control. Something in him snapped, his control slipped, broken by the trust Y/N put in him. The animal within him took over completely, no longer held back by anything. He pulled out for a moment, flipping her around her stomach, and pushed her into the bed, he pinned her arms behind her back with one hand. She obliged, had no other choice. Feyd leaned down and growled into her ear, ‘’I’m going to show you what it means to belong to me.’’ And then he pushed in her, filling her with one harsh push. Feyd’s need for her consuming him, he was slamming into her relentlessly, ‘’My little dove..’’  only thing he cared about was getting as deep as he could. The animal side of him was in total control, and he was driven by nothing but the primal need to possess his wife, to make her his own. His words are harsh, breathless, and desperate. ‘’You’re mine, all mine. Don’t fight back, just take it like a good little wife you are.’’

He spanked her ass with his free hand, his hand coming down with a  loud slap. He was in complete control, fueled solely by the primal need to dominate her. ‘’You’re going to take what I give you my little wife.’’  Their skin slapped with each movement, their moans and whimpers filling the air, he could feel she was close again, he kept spanking her, he was adoring the way she let him do this.

Feyd was close, watching her ass jiggle, the sound of their skin collapsing was too much and, his free hand stopped slapping her ass cheek and found its way on her clit, he wanted her to come with him, ‘’Give me another one sweet wife.’’ He was towering her, his lips on her ear and he bit her earlobe,

‘’How did it feel to watch me fight today?’’ he asked with his raspy voice and she was whimpering under him, her body started to shake like it did before, ‘’That’s it!’’ he encouraged his wife, ‘’Come for me little dove.’’ His hand rubbing her clit and his monster cock in her drove her mad and she felt her release like the waves crushing to the shore, she was gushing and also felt Feyd release himself in her core. They were a hot mess, sheets were soaked underneath them.

Even though it was their second time having sex in this 2 month old marriage it was as if their bodies and souls had met years ago. For once Feyd-Rautha appreciated the Bene Gesserit for matchmaking, although he had his eyes on her since their childhood the witches of Bene Gesserit were onto something. He needed no one but her.. and their child.

Feyd got up and carefully lifted her numb body, carried his wife to the bathroom, there was a grey marble tub, big enough for both of them and he filled it with warm water and then placed her inside. He poured the oils he liked on her skin and hair, rose and lavender. Those had never grown in Giedi Prime but whenever Y/N visited the planet she smelled like those scents so as a child and in his teenage years he looked forward to her visits, just to be in her presence… she had no idea how he had waited and yearned for her.

Later he got into the tub, her back was on his chest so he started to brush her wonderful hair, he always wanted to do that, ‘’I have always admired your hair.’’ He found himself admitting, the almighty Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was nothing but a soft man with her, ‘’Really?’’ she asked curious, she figured it out before when he kept looking at her hair or smelling her head. ‘’I like the way it bounces and captures the perfumes and oils you wear.’’ His large hands were so soothing, massaging her scalp, ‘’Hmm..’’ she hummed in pure bliss, Feyd’s hand went to her stomach, he still couldn’t believe she was carrying their first child. He was going to be a father. He remembered his own father, Abulurd Rabban, Baron’s step-brother. He didn’t realize he huffed in discomfort, ‘’What’s wrong?’’ she asked turning her head, she saw him on her peripheral vision, he seemed… sad.

‘’I just remembered my father.’’

She felt a stone drop in her stomach, she remembered the book she had found back in Giedi Prime’s dark fortress,

Emmie Rabban’s cause of death: Matricide

Abulurd Rabban’s cause of death: Patricide

‘’What do you remember about him?’’ she asked carefully, Feyd’s hand still on her stomach, rubbing gently, ‘’I was taken to my uncle when I was an infant so I only know the stories of him.’’ He began and Y/N let him speak, ‘’He became the Count of Lankiveil, there he fell in love with my mother…’’ he paused which caught her attention, her heart started to beat faster, was her fate going to be the same as his mother?‘’Emmi Rabban, was her name. She was from House Rabban, a minor House. After the marriage my father renounced the Harkonnen name and took up my mother’s family name.’’ To her core she felt the love they had for each other, no man in their right mind would take his wife’s House name. He must have been madly in love to lose his powerful and prestigious name. ‘’Maybe I can make you an Atreides.’’ She joked to lighten the mood and Feyd chuckled deeply, ‘’What happened to your father?’’ she asked as if she didn’t know that he was patricide. ‘’Baron ordered Glossu to kill him.’’ He said, his voice flat, ‘’I am so sorry Feyd.’’ She whispered and fully turned to him, splashing water to the ground but she didn’t care, she sat on his lap, it made sense because Glossu Rabban was much older than him but Emmi Rabban had died years later. Could it be him? Y/N also realized that Feyd started to address his uncle and brother as Baron and Glossu Rabban, her Bene Gesserit instincts were telling her that he was starting to drop the blood bind that he shared with them. Y/N’s hand went to his pale face, the back of her fingers brushed his cheek, he seemed a man tortured, she didn’t want to imagine what kind of manipulative lessons he got from Baron, what kind of sick and twisted teachings he had to go under, ‘’Feyd?’’ she whispered softly, ‘’Hmm?’’ he was leaning to her touch, ‘’What happened to your mother?’’ she asked directly, Feyd froze for a second, in his deep ocean eyes she could see the hesitation. She was about to find out. ‘’I used to see her, as much as Baron let me see her.’’ He began, Y/N held her breath. ‘’As I reached my teenage years I started to sneak into her planet, more often than the Baron wished. He was afraid that I might run away and live with her. Gods knew I did,’’ he exhaled, ‘’I wanted to live with her so bad and he knew.’’ She could hear the agony in his raspy voice, his child like image came to her mind, wanting to be with his only living parent. It broke her heart. Y/N kept her silence so that he would explain further, the scent of lavender and rose made them more relaxed and loose, it was a rare moment to see him like this.

‘’One day, I was visiting her again, apparently Baron’s spies were everywhere, that they I learned it in a harsh way.’’ Y/N held her breath, ‘’I was getting ready to leave, she kissed my cheek and held my face in her warm palms until her nose started to bleed, her palms got colder quickly, and she fell to the floor,’’ Feyd’s eyes were looking away from her, focused on a spot in the grand bathchamber, ‘’Baron had made my personal chef put a certain substance in my food that anyone touched me in 12 hours they would get poisoned, it was a type where it didn’t have any effect on the consumer. I could do nothing to stop it.’’

Y/N’s Bene Gesserit senses were telling her that he was off the hook, he was the one who caused it but he was unaware of it. Her human side was aching in agony, this poor boy must have felt that he was the reason and blamed himself for years and years. She held his face in her palms, like his mother did. ‘’It wasn’t your fault.’’ She said softly, ‘’I am aware of that-‘’

‘’It wasn’t your fault Feyd.’’ She meant it, every word and with that Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the fearsome Na-Baron of Giedi Prime, the Whip of Arrakis (that’s what the Fremen addressed him as) started to shake violently, as if the years of pain and self blame surfaced and his buried his face in his wife’s neck, pulling her harshly and tears left his ocean blue eyes.

All she could do was to be there and hug him, their naked bodies clung to each other, they became one, their souls pouring to each other’s hearts. In that moment she swore to herself that it was just her and him, and their little baby.. in her mind’s eye she saw a vision, Feyd was holding a baby in his arms and Y/N was holding the other… in that moment her Bene Gesserit trainings told her that she was carrying twins and she decided on the babies gender, a boy and a girl and she was going to suggest to name them as Emmi and Abulurd to honor her husband’s parents and pay a homage to them. They died but their names shall live in their grandchildren.

The very next morning Feyd woke up early, in fact he didn’t get much sleep, his dark and twisted mind was alert, making plans to save his wife and child, little did he know that there was an extra one. He remembered the conversation he had with his wife’s father, Duke Leto Atreides on the wedding day,

‘’Duke Leto,’’ he called for him, ‘’May we speak in private?’’ it was before the arena.

‘’Yes, we may.’’ And Feyd took him to his study. ‘’Do not have any fear for your daughter’s future for I am her provider and protector starting today. She will be taken care of the way she wishes. Not a strand of her hair will be harmed. You have my word.’’ And he bowed respectfully.

Leto looked at him different than the day his daughter was taken. Today he was going to be his son-in-law, the father of his future grandchildren, ‘’If you need anything,’’ Leto began, ‘’I will be there for you, son.’’ And he hugged Feyd. Feyd wasn’t used to getting hugs or sentimental things from his family members so he was startled at first but he hugged Leto back.

He slowly left the bed, got dressed in black, as usual and he marched to his study room, there he sat and got his personal device to send a voice memo, he hesitated before he pressed the button to record his voice but then he exhaled and pressed the button, the device turned green it was recording.

‘’Greetings Duke Leto Atreides, This is an urgent message, my wife has fled Giedi Prime and came to Arrakis. Due to this action my uncle demands her head,’’ he paused, the gravity of the situation hitting him all at once, ‘’I have promised you that I will keep her safe, and you said if I needed anything you would be there..’’ he had a warm feeling in his chest when he remembered how serious and willing Duke Leto was in that moment and he continued recording his voice, ‘’ I am going to take over Giedi Prime and become it’s rightful Baron. I need your, House Atreides’ support and I need it very soon. Your daughter needs your support… I need your support. Please help us.’’

Asking for help wasn’t something he used to, all his life he never asked for something because his slaves where there for his every need and desires, it wasn’t an easy message to record.

Feyd stopped the record and immediately sent it to Caladan.

Thank you for reading. :)

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