* The Heart Is Not Meant To Rule *

Paul x wife!reader!!! Was so so good!! I am so happy to hear that you are going to write more for them.

If you are taking thoughts for them, I would love to see when they met? Or their wedding day? If that sounds interesting 🫶🏼

🍉 Blurb requests; a character + any prompt you want.

Author's Note: I'm so glad you're enjoying these! In this one I've sort of implied that Paul and reader met once before, a year before he proposes. He had dreams of her long before their meeting and despite knowing each other from a distance, that's all the confirmation he needs. Reader is well-versed in politics and warfare, much like Paul, and while he's taken with her from the start he also sees the benefits of marrying someone who seems his equal.

Warnings: no real warnings apply, just fluff. R and P get to know each other a little better. <3

"You need to reserve your hand for the most strategic alliance," His mother had said, exasperated in the spearing of her dinner with a fork. "You know that."

"He's already decided." Leto eats slowly, eyes downcast but amused when he briefly glances up at Paul.

"What?"

Paul sighs through his nose. "I've already proposed to her, it's done."

Jessica looks aghast as she sets down her cutlery. "Tell me you didn't."

"I did." He watches as his mother looks at his father and then back at him, slack-jawed as she tries to process the magnitude of what her only son has set in motion.

"Jessica," Leto reaches for her hand. "We should be supporting our son; he's getting married."

She clenches her jaw and slips his grip as she stands, shaking her head. "You knew?"

"No, actually," Leto glares half-heartedly, making Paul duck his head. "He left me in the dark as much as he did you."

"But you suspected?"

He sighs. "Jessica."

She huffs, having her answer as she turns to leave the dining hall. Leto raises his brows at his son apologetically, folding his dinner napkin to set on the table. He stands, planning to play the part of soothing husband he isn't by title.

"I don't want to regret it," Paul says quietly, making him pause. "Not marrying her. I've thought about it for a long time."

Leto nods, pride filling him that Paul is observant enough to see the burdens of his house and family name, and doesn't want to repeat his father's mistakes.

"Your mother will come around," He smooths his beard. "Just give her time."

His mother, thankfully, keeps her internal struggle to herself from then on, not seeing the point in arguing with him when he'd clearly made up his mind. It was one thing for Paul to have inherited his father's stubbornness, but to also have inherited Jessica's tenacity was nothing short of fate. She wasn't sure if it was some cruel joke or not—the boy she bore turning out exactly as she had imagined but continued to surprise her nonetheless.

"Remember," She says as she adjusts the placement of his aiguillette on his ceremonial uniform. "She'll be skittish, despite what she might tell you. You'll need to be calm."

"You talk like she's an animal being led to slaughter." Paul buttons his collar snug against his throat.

His mother purses her lips as she looks him over one last time. "Every woman entering a political marriage is an animal being led to slaughter. And despite her acceptance of your proposal, that is what she will feel like."

She sighs and cups his cheek, brushing her thumb over his skin. "I know you like her. So channel that when you're married, yes? Be careful with her."

He smiles ruefully against her hand. "I know what to do."

You're allowed a semi-private walk with Paul through the grounds as both sets of parents mingle, most likely discussing the wedding and possible dowry, though you had made it clear your parents were to decline should one be offered. The concept of accepting a bride price seemed woefully outdated, and if the rumors were true that the House Atreides would be assuming command of Arrakis and the subsequent spice trade soon, you would become one wealthy bride indeed.

"You think you know what to do. Those are two very different things." She adjusts the Atreides eagle pins on his collar, sharing in his amusement. "Come, let's greet your bride."

"How was the trip?"

Paul, having never been on a Heighliner, asks this with genuine interest.

"It was fine. Secretive." You confess, hand tucked in the crook of his elbow. "I really wanted to see a Guild member, but Mama kept me busy."

You blink, pursing your lips. "Sorry. Mother, I meant."

Paul smiles comfortingly. "You can say whatever you like; we're to be married, aren't we? Who can we trust if not each other?"

Your heart thuds—not uncomfortably—at his words. He seems more mature since you'd last seen him a half-year ago, but still soft-spoken and reserved. You take note the level of care and observation he treats you with as he leads you to the gardens, holding your hand at breast level when you pick your skirts up with your other, walking down stone steps flanked by vines and emerald leaves the size of your torso. His eyes watch your feet to ensure you don't trip, returning your hand to his elbow when your feet are back on the ground.

"Can I truly?" You murmur as he leads you to a padded bench. "Trust you, I mean?"

His expression is earnest. "Of course. Always."

You hum, a tight smile on your face. "I appreciate your proposal more than you know. But the fact remains—we barely know each other. So why did you pick me?"

His eyes duck away bashfully. "I don't suppose you'll believe me if I say it's because I thought you beautiful."

"Not when I've seen you value the intelligence of others." Your smile eases. "Though I'd be flattered if it were true."

"It is true," He looks back at you. "You are beautiful. But you're right. It isn't the only reason."

He sighs evenly as he looks around the gardens. His mother had advised him to tread carefully when it came to his dreams, even suggested he keep them a secret. But how could he keep them a secret from you, when you were often the subject of them?

No, he would trust his instincts when it came to this. There was no other option for him when his gut was tugging in only one direction and sealing his decision.

"For a long time," He says carefully. "I've had dreams—not the kind of dreams that you forget as soon as the day wears on, but the kind that feels real and leaves a-a feeling within me, long after I wake up."

You listen with interest, finding his occasional stammering and pauses endearing. This is clearly something he thinks about often, and why shouldn't he when the dreams happen presumably every night?

"You're there," He murmurs, meeting your steadily widening eyes. "Sometimes you're behind me, like I'm protecting you. Other times you're beside me. Still others, you're reaching your hand out and I'm leading you up a million and one steps."

"I don't fully understand what they mean yet." He continues. "But I know you're always there."

You swallow a lump in your throat. Dreams could be a window into the past, as well as the future.

"What if your dreams are just dreams?" You ask somewhat timidly, not wanting to offend him. "Could you live with that? Being wrong?"

He smiles, eyes soft as he senses your trepidation. It's a big decision, one he knows he can't rush you on.

"I don't think the dreams are inherently right or wrong, I think they just...are."

He lifts his knuckles to graze your cheek, gentle as he takes such a liberty. You seem not to mind, lashes dusting your cheeks in a shy display of modesty.

"Not only are you beautiful, you're kind and intelligent. I know about the Vector Accords."

Your lips part in shock. "How could you possibly...?"

He chuckles, hand dropping back into his own lap. "I see glimpses of other things. I saw you speaking in an enormous auditorium. After I woke, we received word that morning that someone—"

He raises his eyebrows in pointed amusement. "—had negotiated peace between two great peoples on one of the outer worlds. A peace the Emperor himself hadn't been concerned with."

"So yes," He says softly but firmly. "I'd say I could live with having a woman such as you as my duchess."

Your laugh is breathless as you shake your head, thoroughly marveled and more than a little prideful that he had recognized your qualities for the value they had.

Details of the truce were not yet known, even to Padishah Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV. Paul couldn't have possibly known such a thing unless he had been present himself, and it would have been impossible for him to travel there and back preceding your arrival to Caladan.

"Were you nervous?" He asks suddenly, the innocence of the question striking you.

"My palms were soaked." You snort. "Who'd have thought, hm? Me, a mediator."

"You shouldn't sell yourself short. You're so much more than that."

It's odd, hearing such a thing from another young person and not one of your parents or mentors. You'd experienced the courting phase of youth, but never had a young man encouraged in such a way as to make you feel like what you were striving for—peace—was worth it.

You didn't need or want the validation from anyone, but it felt nice to hear it all the same.

"I, um," You blink, looking down at your filigree wristwatch to see it was nearly time for dinner. "I need to think about what you've said, if that's alright?"

"Of course." He appreciates the fact that you're not rushing into his arms, despite your gracious acceptance of his proposal. "Allow me to walk you to your room?"

Your smile is genuine and wide; you expected nothing less.

"Please."

Your wedding is grand, if a bit quiet. Neither you nor Paul see fit to complain. The Emperor sends his regrets of not being able to attend in response to your invitation.

A snub, after a projection of your speech was mass publicized. People were whispering that a little girl was better suited to bringing peace to a war-ravaged planet than a man of seventy-two, and that, you surmised, must be quite embarrassing.

He's quite handsome on your wedding day, your husband. Sitting through the festivities seems a waste when all you really want is for him to hold you. You desire him, most definitely, but you desire his softer attentions more.

If the twinkle in his green eyes and the way he seems to be in no rush to bring you to the separate wing of the castle are anything to go by, then he feels the same.

It's tradition for the groom to carry his bride from the wedding table to the marriage bed, and so he does, but the crowd is respectful as Paul assured you, and they toast you both and cheer loudly as he lifts you in his arms, walking into the castle a married man. The Duke Leto and the Lady Jessica beam as they watch you wave and tuck your head on Paul's shoulder.

"You don't have to carry me the whole way," You giggle, arms wrapped safely around his neck. "It's a bit far."

"It's not that far." He parries with amusement.

But he's not Duncan Idaho—doesn't possess his hulking form—and maybe it is farther than he originally thought, but he refuses to put you down until you hurriedly push open the doors to your new quarters and he deposits you on the bed, rolling over beside you as he catches his breath and let's his shaky arms drop.

"I told you."

He adores the laugh you let out at being correct, and thinks it might be alright to let you have every silly argument or discussion if you'll only laugh like that again.

"It's bad luck if I let you down before," He explains, lips curling. "I want it to last."

You lean on an elbow, your dress a haze of chiffon that will undoubtedly be wrinkled tomorrow.

"Our marriage?"

He nods and you purse your lips, brushing a curl away from his forehead.

"It will last if we want it to." You say softly. "And even moreso now that you've carried your wife to bed."

You kiss him sweetly and he loves you for it, loves the way you acknowledge a Caladan tradition, even if you don't necessarily believe in the superstition of "let your wife down, let your marriage drown."

It's silly but it's woven into the tapestries of his ancestors lives—now his and yours—and he couldn't be happier.

Dune Taglist: @aoi-targaryen

Don't Touch What’s His

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: Feyd's harpies attack you while you're both asleep in his bed and he gets real mad.

Notes/Warnings: mention of blood and mutilation, inflicted wounds, and possessiveness. Related to the fic titled His, but this can be read alone. Typos (just being real)

Words: 1100

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

You’re screaming for him before you’re even fully awake, shrieking his name before you can begin to grasp what’s happening to you. All you know is that you’re no longer warm, no longer safe as you’re yanked from his arms and dragged to the bottom edge of the bed. Claws are digging into your calf as primal grumbles and growls and the distinct sound of lips smacking in anticipation reach your ears. Your body is being pulled further and further away, and no pawing at the sheets helps to keep you on the mattress.

Another plea for him is on the tip of your tongue, but then a hand wraps around your arm, engaging in a tug-of-war with whatever monster has a hold on you. Scrapes make lines down your leg as you dig your heels into the bed and back yourself away from the clawed being. You take a few deep breaths and blink, your eyes adjusting to the darkness.

“I told you she’s off limits!” Feyd shouts in a terrifying tone. A tone most commonly reserved for those who inconvenience him: servants and prisoners and his brother. It’s not his low timbre; it’s much more powerful. So powerful that you half-expect a crack to split open the floor.

You blink again and crane your neck to peer over the foot of the bed at who he scolds. Feyd’s harpies are on their hands and knees, staring a hole into your head. It’s a daring choice. When Feyd speaks, those around must be attentive with eyes and ears, but the harpies don’t so much as glance in his direction. They’re here for you, they want you, and clearly nothing else.

“But she looks so yummy,” one of them says, a pout forming on her lips.

“And she smells even better,” the second adds. Her tongue swipes over a sharpened fang.

All three of them begin to crawl across the floor until they’re at your side of the bed. Feyd’s fingers tighten around your arm, his eyes narrowing, and you lean back against his chest just in case they get the idea to lunge at you.

“We won’t eat very much of her,” the third purrs as her hand slithers over the silky sheets, inching toward your body. “Just a few little bites. Plenty left over for our lord na-baron to enjoy.”

When her pointed nails graze your ankle, Feyd leans around you, grabs her wrist, and sharply twists until there's a snap. She yelps. Your body jolts. Tears build in the corners of her eyes. Your jaw drops.

Immediately, they appear to sober up. Their hunger, if still there, doesn’t lust for you so intensely now that fear has taken over.

“You will not sink your filthy fangs into her,” Feyd spits, baring his teeth. “She’s mine. Her flesh, her blood, all of her—mine.” The other two harpies shrink and skitter away from their injured sister. “If I wanted to share, I would have.”

Feyd releases his harpy. She cradles her broken wrist, whimpers emitting from her throat as she scoots back to join the others. They feel safer in a pack. Though you don’t think that will aid them in this case.

“W-We just thought she wouldn’t matter to you,” one of them mutters, her chin tucked to her chest. “We thought you could find another plaything.”

Feyd’s face darkens. The icy blue of his glare wavers under the force of a burning red. As he moves to stand, he jerks you to his side of the bed, separating you from the beastly women by a few more feet.

“What did you just say to me?” he grits out, rounding the mattress and stopping in front of them.

The harpies glance at each other in panic before looking back at their master. “W-We didn't mean–”

“It appears I’ve treated you too well,” he says decisively. “If you’re bold enough to defy my orders, then perhaps you need to be reminded of your place.”

You gulp. You’ve heard that tone. You’ve heard those words. But you have a feeling Feyd’s threats toward his harpies are not as empty as the ones he throws at you, and it makes your stomach squeeze.

Your presence in Giedi Prime’s fortress being the indirect cause of their harm is nothing less than unjust. It’s not their fault their master brought fresh meat home. They cannot control what they are, and Feyd routinely encourages their behavior, excluding only you from the list of bodies they are allowed to feast upon. If anything, this is his fault.

“Get up!” he shouts, and they scramble to their feet.

You rise up on your knees as he turns and yanks open the bedroom door. “Feyd, wait, you don’t have to–”

“Stay!” he snaps, pointing a finger at you.

Your mouth snaps shut and you sit, watching as his harpies obediently follow him out the door. Within the minute, you hear the screams and squeals of pain, and you wince, pressing your hands over your ears.

You don’t know how long you stay in that position. It’s Feyd’s touch that jolts you back into the present.

You look up.

Red is speckled across his torso. You feel a slickness on your face from where he is cupping your cheek, and when he pulls his hand away, you notice the rivers of blood running through the spaces between his fingers.

Without a word, Feyd pushes you down onto the bed, rearranges the covers so they drape appropriately across your body, and crawls under the sheets to settle in beside you.

“What did you do to them?” you ask.

His eyes are already closed by the time the question fully leaves your lips. He blows out a heavy breath through his nose and turns on his side to wrap his arm around your waist. “Removed a few fingers,” he says. “Now go back to sleep.”

“But–”

“Go. To. Sleep,” he grumbles in demand. “Unless you’d rather I change my mind and toss you into their feeding pit…”

It's one of those empty threats, but you don’t press him further. Not for tonight. Tonight he is tired and grumpy and nothing about you pushing him will do you any good. So instead, you allow him to do as he wants. And what he wants is to tuck your head under his chin, eliminate all space between you, and hold you in a grip that is just short of suffocating.

Pipsqueak & Grumpy

Summary: Logan defends you.

Pairing: Wolverine (Logan Howlett) x Plussized (short) Reader

Warnings: grumpy Wolverine (you know him), sunshine reader, plus-sized reader, bullying/fat-shaming, protective Wolverine

A/N: Please consider that I write for the taller version of Wolverine from the movies, not the comics.

“Slow down, big grump,” you giggle because your boyfriend (or not boyfriend because Logan hates the word) is stomping toward the bookstore. If he hates anything, it’s shopping, but he makes an exception for you. His hold on your hand is light, but it makes your heart flutter. “Logan.”

“What is it, Pipsqueak?” He stops in his tracks, almost making you bump into his back. Logan cocks one brow while looking down at you. “I’m not smoking.”

“I asked you to slow down.” You pout. “My legs are shorter, and you’re so fast.”

“Aw, do you want me to carry you?” Logan grabs your waist, intending to lift you. “I could throw you over my shoulder and carry you around. No problem, sweet Pipsqueak.”

“No!” You playfully swat his chest. “That’s for the bedroom only.” Your eyes narrow as you watch three girls and their boyfriends walk toward you and Logan. They watch you interact and start laughing.

“Man, I wouldn’t try lifting that chubby bumblebee,” one of the boys laughs. “You’ll break your back, or worse.”

Logan dips his head as they step closer. He grits his teeth, already tensing. One more word from the idiots not knowing what they got themselves into, and there will be blood coloring the street. Not Logan’s, though.

“First and final warning,” your boyfriend growls in their direction. “Get the fuck away from me and my girlfriend.” Your heart flutters because Logan called you his girlfriend in front of others; you only wish it wasn’t at that moment.

“GIRLFRIEND?” One of the girls says, scoffing. “You could do so much better. You’re not that old.” The group starts laughing when the boy talking shit calls you a fat, short cow.

Logan growls like the animal he can turn into. He gently cups your face and pecks your temple before he turns on his heels. Logan looks the boys up and down, a dark smirk on his lips.

One of them already steps back, tugging at his girlfriend’s hand.

“So, you think you can come here and talk like that about my girlfriend?” Logan’s voice alone makes the girls whimper. They didn’t expect Logan to look like a feral wolf when he turned around. “I see you need me to tell you how to treat a woman, right.”

“Sir, they didn’t mean to-.” The last boy raises his hands in surrender and walks back. “Uh, I didn’t say a thing.”

“You didn’t say a thing; that’s right.” Wolverine steps even closer. “At least your friends were brave enough to believe they could make fun of my girl. You were just standing next to them, laughing like a hyena. A real man would never allow his friends to do such a shady thing.”

“Sir…” The girl laughing at you squeaks. “But she’s…” She screams in terror when Logan lifts his left arm and slowly slides his claws out. He chuckles darkly when the girl wets her pants. “Nooooo!”

“What will it be, boys?” Logan asks, sliding the claws on his right hand out. “A taste of my claws, or you on your knees begging my beautiful girl for forgiveness.”

He cocks his head, waiting for their answer. The girls run off, while the boys fall to their knees, murmuring apologies.

“I can’t hear you!” Wolverine yells. “Louder! I want everyone to know that you are little boys with small dicks and even smaller brains. You will tell them that you said all this shit because you are not man enough to satisfy a hot-blooded woman like my girlfriend.”

“We are little boys with small dicks and even smaller brains,” the boys say in unison. “We are not man enough to satisfy your hot-blooded woman.”

“Damn right,” Logan huffs. He slides his claws back in, but steps closer to the kneeling boys. “You’ll stay like that for ten more minutes and repeat the words. If,” he says while sliding his claws back out, "you ever say something like that to anyone ever again, I’ll find you and cut your tiny cocks off.”

As fast as he put the group into their place, Logan turned back around, his features softening.

“Now, Pipsqueak, we are going to get the books you wanted,” Logan smirks when you look up at him like he’s your hero (and he truly is in any way).

He grabs your waist, easily lifts you, and throws you over his shoulders, laughing loudly as people stop walking only to stare at the bizarre scene. The boys are still reciting the words, while Logan carries you toward the bookstore, whistling a tune.

“Logan,” you giggle and laugh. “Let me down!”

“Never, Pipsqueak,” he laughs and swats your ass with his hand. “I’d never let you down.”

Tags in reblog.

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.”

His Scarred Omega Part 4

Part 3 / Series Masterlist

Relationship: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Word Count: ~1900

Summary: Bucky celebrates his first Halloween with his daughter and Omega.

Warnings: insecure Omega, flirty Bucky, flirty Jake, sappy-happy Bucky

A/N: I wrote this story really fast as I mentioned above. It’s proofread but all mistakes are my own.

I also do not give permission for my work to be copied or posted on other sites or fed into an AI machine.

*****

With Halloween growing ever closer, Bucky invites Omega and Gracie to a friend’s place for a family-friendly party. Jake’s assured Bucky his niece would be there, someone Gracie’s own age as well as some others to keep them from being too bored. Steve also promises there will be plenty of homes they can trick-or-treat from, giving Gracie something else to look forward to.

Bucky can’t help taking several pictures of Gracie in her costume. (Omega managed to divert her away from the Harley Quinn costume and into something a bit more kid appropriate.)

He also snaps a couple of Omega when she isn’t looking to save on his phone.

Gracie’s now going as cute little witch. Her blue eyes are sparkling with a bit of help from her mischievous nature, so like his own, and some eyeshadow that Omega helps her put on. The costume’s light-up abilities really sold themselves when Omega presented it to Gracie as did Bucky’s endorsement of the costume.

“You look beautiful, sweet girl,” he assures her when she does a final spin for him.

“What about Auntie? She looks nice, too, doesn’t she?”

Bucky glances at Omega and nods. His lips quirk into a small grin as he takes in the Greek goddess dress she’s put on. She’s added a few golden adornments she’s made to complete her look along with some golden accent makeup that makes her face glow.

“No, I think nice isn’t the right word, sweet girl. I think the word we need for this moment is beautiful or maybe breathtaking. What do you think?”

Omega’s cheeks are heating at his praise though she’s shaking her head at him even as a smile makes her that much more stunning in his eyes.

Gracie eventually breaks through the spell casting around them as she agrees with Bucky.

Omega is doing her best not to let Bucky’s flirting get to her. There’s no way in the world he can ever be interested in her, not after everything with Dot. Besides, she knows he’s just being nice to keep himself in her good graces where Gracie is concerned.

She can tell he’s gearing up to ask for a weekend with Gracie that includes an overnight at his place. As much as Omega isn’t sure she’s ready for that, she also knows that Bucky and Gracie are growing closer to one another. It’s only natural he wants more time with his daughter, especially with so much time he’s already lost with her.

To get them back on safer ground, Omega steers the conversation back on track by saying, “I think Bucky looks quite the pirate, don’t you, Gracie? Looks like he could take over a ship in the harbor and sail away any moment.”

Bucky grins at that. “I’d never sail anywhere without my best girls at my side. Gonna need someone to make sure I don’t get seasick, you know.”

“Somehow, I doubt you get seasick. Those legs of yours look sturdy enough to handle even the roughest seas.”

It hits Omega a second later what she’s said, her cheeks heating further with the tips of her ears and neck joining in, too.

Bucky, thankfully, doesn’t comment further on her obvious embarrassment, but then, the weird connection they share between them tells her he’s quite flattered at her appreciation of his legs. Neither of them still have a clue why this connection exists between them, but they have slowly come to accept it over the last couple of weeks.

Soon enough, they’re heading towards Jake’s home with Steve and Angel.

Gracie doesn’t stop asking questions about his friends and Jake’s niece. Her hope of gaining a new friend is quite palpable as she’s been struggling in school to accomplish the same. Then again, it’s harder to make friends when you’re dumped in a new school after the start of the year.

Bucky’s certain she’ll find her footing soon enough as she’s only been in the school a couple of weeks.

He’s been checking in with her teacher about how she’s doing, something he’s been able to do since Omega added him to Gracie’s file. Sure, he’s only added as an emergency contact, but he’s hoping that will change to full guardianship soon enough alongside Omega’s name.

According to her teacher, she’s settling in well enough though she’s still a bit on the quieter side. She’s quite helpful though she does tend to stick to herself rather than branch out, but her teacher is seeing some signs that Gracie is adjusting and reaching out to her classmates, giving Bucky the assurance she’ll be fine.

When Jake’s home comes into view, Bucky can’t help the small smile curling the corners of his lips as he glances at both Gracie and Omega. He can’t wait to show off his daughter to his friends and her sweet Omega aunt.

Angel meets him at the door and immediately smiles at Omega and Gracie.

“Oh, there’s our guests of honor. It’s so nice to see you both again. Come in. Come in. Jake is so eager to meet you both. Plus, his niece just got here and is already bored with us grownups. Would you like to meet her, Gracie?”

Gracie grins at Angel and takes her hand without hesitation.

Bucky motions Omega in after him and manages to lean in to say softly, “You really are breathtaking, Precious.”

Omega doesn’t get the chance to say anything as Steve and Jake converge on them.

Jake earns a deep growl from Bucky when he dares to awkwardly flirt with Omega after their introductions. Rather than be scared though, Jake just shoots Bucky a cheeky grin while holding his hands up in a surrendering gesture.

“Only fair since you flirted with mine when you first met her.”

Omega arches a brow at Bucky then. “So, you have flirted with Angel then?”

“Only to mess with this dork. Angel will never have eyes for another alpha but him.”

Before Omega can get away, he wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her close enough so he can whisper, “Besides, there’s only one omega that has my undivided attention these days.”

“You don’t have to say things you don’t mean, Bucky. Gracie’s already half in love with you as her dad. You don’t have to keep flattering me to win her over.”

The guarded look in Omega’s eyes has Bucky pulling her closer. His free hand cups her cheek, his thumb running over her cheekbone.

“What if I’m trying to win you over, too? What do I need to say or do for you to realize I think you’re the most wonderful, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, Precious?”  

Omega doesn’t know what to say to that. As much as she wants to believe Bucky, she also can’t help wondering if he’s done this with Dot or any number of other omegas in the years they’ve lost touch.

Besides that, she knows she’s not like other omegas. She’s definitely no Dot. She’s never pretended to be. Maybe that’s why it’d been so easy for her future alpha to claim Dot while she’d been working hard for their future and Gracie’s. Doesn’t mean the betrayal doesn’t hurt any less though.

Can she trust another alpha to not hurt her again? Can she trust Bucky?

She’s still waiting for him to decide he’s done enough to claim Gracie through the courts and sever any connections she has with Gracie. It’s something she’s seen happen before, and she can’t handle the thought of losing the last member of her family.

It takes her a moment longer than it should’ve to feel and recognize the deep rumble pouring out of Bucky and into her. His hold on her tightens as he does his best to soothe the dark thoughts swirling within her.

This darn connection between them is proving quite maddening. It’s giving her hope where she shouldn’t have any. Bucky, for all intents and purposes, will forever belong to Dot because of Gracie. It’s a futile hope for Omega to think that she can ever compete with Dot’s memory or believe she can wriggle into his heart where she wouldn’t mind being.

It’s all his fault, too.

The constant flowers every weekend he spends with her and Gracie. Doing his best to spoil her as much as he does Gracie on their outings. He’s never failed to buy her something wherever they go, especially something she eyes while they’re there. He never fails to defer to her judgment where Gracie is concerned, too, wanting to make sure he never oversteps.

And hundreds of other tiny things he’s done for her and Gracie since they bumped into him that day.

In just these few short weeks, he’s managed to turn her crush into something so much deeper, and she’s not sure she can or wants to be mad about it.

“Will you and Gracie come back to my place tonight? I have something I want to show you.”

“All our stuff is back home,” she whispers, the only excuse she can latch onto to deny him.

He simply smiles against her skin. She can feel it as he presses the softest kiss to her hair that she’s ever experienced in her life. It’s enough to weaken her resolve and her knees.

“I’ve been preparing for this, Precious. You and Gracie will have everything you need for a single night away.”

“I’ll consider it,” she says before Steve comes to check on them at Angel’s behest.

The rest of the evening, Omega manages to keep Bucky at arm’s length for her sanity. She spends as much time as she can helping Angel out between serving up food and keeping the few kiddos out of trouble.

Gracie and Jake’s niece end up hitting it off so well that both are already begging for sleepovers and other playdates together.

True to Steve’s word, the neighborhood ends up being one of the best trick-or-treating locations with almost all the houses offering candy to the kids traveling between the houses. Some even go so far as to offer up some small but creative haunted houses for the kids to shriek and laugh their way through.

It’s in one of these that Bucky finally gets the chance to have Omega at his side once again. His hand remains firmly interlaced with hers as they see all the spooky sights, tightening in the few instances where a jump scare lands successfully. Hearing Omega’s small yelps and her other hand wrapping around his arm puffs him up in ways he never thought to feel again. It’s definitely intoxicating and something he wants to experience over and over again.

When they finally return to Jake’s home, Gracie can barely keep her eyes open.

Bucky’s carrying her while Omega has her sack of candy.

“You have fun, sweet girl?”

Gracie nods against his neck, a huge yawn escaping. “Do we have to go home?”

“Yeah, we do, but I promise you’ll see your new friend again soon. Auntie and I’ll make sure of it.”

“I love you, Daddy,” she says as sleep claims her.

Bucky’s knees nearly buckle as tears of pure joy blur his vision. He brings his hand up to rub at her back as he whispers back, “I love you, too, my sweet girl. Always and forever.”

*****

Main Masterlist

cannot stop thinking about being both paul and irulan's concubine. an imperial whore of all sorts 😫

honestly, they just KNEW what they were doing with that casting. UGGHH !!

scissoring, oral, r described as a girl & PRINCESS IRULAN + PAUL ATREIDES MDNI 18+

you represent different things for both of them.

for irulan, you're an outlet. you're not as much experimentation as you are familiar territory. her teenage years were spent with girls like you. girls who looked at her with stars in their eyes and kissed her entirely too gently. girls who fawned over her beauty yet appeared just as beautiful beneath her.

so when she's with you, when you start to behave like the girls she left behind to marry the emperor, irulan falls back into her old pattern. it's dizzying to finally be wanted again. it's addicting to feel a pretty girl shiver and shake beneath her fingers, with assurance that the courteous and honest act of admiration will be returned onto her soon thereafter.

for paul, you're a different form of familiarity. you're familiar in ways of a dream, deja vu, or perhaps a memory slipping through his fingers. you remind him of chani in small ways. the way your chin tilts up when he addresses you. the way you'll teach him something, but only if he asks you to. the way you can be headstrong, usually when you're in his quarters, stripped of your responsibilities and your clothes.

you're not supposed to deny the emperor anything, especially as his concubine, but disobedience comes naturally to you. like the time you'd visited him on arrakis, away from corrino and irulan for just a bit, and paul's overzealous attitude had you on the brink of releasing copious amounts of fluids along his lithe hips and short tuft of pubes.

you weren't a layman, you understood the necessity of fluids on arrakis. so you refused and refused, trying to push paul away as you neared the brink. but paul ordered you to release all over him. he assured you that you would be fine, and it wouldn't be a sign of disrespect to unnecessarily lose this much fluid in one go because you were doing it at the hands of their leader.

paul won't lay with irulan, but he'll lay with you after her. when your skin still smells faintly of flowers and greenery. when you still have her fluids combined with yours between your legs.

you see the way he revels in the evidence of irulan on your body. you notice the way he nuzzles his head between your thighs when irulan's arousal still coats your skin. his tongue, warm and flat, runs along your skin, cleaning you up. and he'll groan afterwards, allowing himself a moment to rest his forehead against your inner thigh, just taking it all in.

he'll seek you out when you're with her, uncaring of the way your naked bodies writhe against each other atop irulan's bed. and he can just come join you two. you always give him a few moments, stretching longer and longer each time he does it. you won't stop, your hips still gliding to and fro, dragging your cunt against irulan's all while you stare at the emperor.

but paul will stand still. his hands clasped behind his back, his curly hair hanging over his hardened face, his expression stoic even when you can see the way his throat bobs and his eyebrows twitch.

he'll often say the same thing. "must you finish here, first?" or something along the lines. and then he'll leave you be, waiting in his own quarters with a rock hard dick nestled beneath linen fabric.

but there's one time—just once where his cobalt eyes appeared weary before morphing into desire. he licked his lips, his fingers twitching against his sides as he hungrily took in the sight before him.

irulan noticed it as well as you did. she began to put on a show.

the empress has always had melodic moans, but she began to emphasize them. with your mouth latched onto her cunt, irulan made sure paul knew how good you were making her feel.

when you heard the sound of paul approaching you both, excitement flooded your body. finally paul would allow himself simple pleasures. and he did, starting with pulling your mouth off of irulan's cunt and tasting her off of your own tongue. when he seemed satisfied at a taste he knew as well as he knew yours, he gently urged you out of the way, and assumed the position of a dutiful husband.

I'm 100% following your paul x reader x feyd idea, I cannot even begin to explain how much I would gobble down that fic. The idea alone has me 👁️👁️

I'm normally a silent reader (working on bettering that habit), but I'm hoping people also support your idea loudly bc it sounds delicious and super fun to read!

Hoping you decide to write it!! Good luck 😊

Thank you so much!! I’m really having fun figuring out the plot and order of events and how certain parts of the books and film will come into play and what will change.

Thank you so much for the encouragement!

୧ ⊹₊ ⋆ between us 💭 feyd rautha

WARNINGS ⁞ smut, 18+, profanity, innuendo, afab reader, she/her pronouns

OPs NOTES ⁞ a/n: from an anon request. just a fun lil drabble // Summary: Feyd gives you a gift that you won't soon forget, proving nothing will come between the two of you.

MY NOTES ⁞ This is not my work. If you are the owner of this work and would like it taken down, please provide proof of ownership and I will take it down/redirect where necessary! Link to the fic reblogged on one of my other side blogs.

It’s late when Feyd finally comes to your shared bedchamber. His days have grown longer ever since taking up the title of Baron. He resents that it takes him away from you. You’re the only thing that’s ever made him truly happy. But this burden is his honor and his duty as his uncle’s chosen heir. Though he spends so many hours away from you, he always makes sure to return to your bed and only yours every night. He had his fun with his concubines, memories that he looks back on with fondness, but now? He can’t imagine being with anyone but you. His pets have fallen to the wayside ever since the first time he had you. 

Nothing and no one else could ever satisfy him the way you do.

Feyd expects you to come running into his arms, embracing him as you always do. He is a cold man, bloodthirsty and cruel, but your love and affection softens him. He frowns when he opens the door and sees you standing at the balcony, wearing your nightgown. The moon lights up your skin, making you look like some sort of ethereal goddess. He approaches you, moving your hair off your shoulder to press a kiss to the soft skin of your neck. You’re so lost in thought that you don’t even notice.

He turns you around to face him, hands cupping your face as he questions, “What troubles you?”

As if waking from a trance, you blink, meeting his gaze with a melancholy smile, “Nothing, my lord. Everything is fine.”

Your answer comes a moment too quickly and Feyd shakes his head, “I know you well enough to know when you’re lying to me.”

You pause before sighing, “Promise you won’t make fun of me?”

The way you ask is so endearing that he can’t help but nod, “I promise.”

“One of your… Concubines…” It’s as if you struggle to say the word, your innocence bringing a smile to his face as he forces himself to hold back a chuckle, “One of them approached me and…” You shake your head, cutting yourself off, “Never mind. You’ll think it’s stupid.”

Feyd narrows his eyes, gripping your chin in his hand, squeezing slightly, “Tell me.”

You gaze up at him through your lashes, the sight of which has never failed to make his heart, which he once thought to be nonexistent, melt, “She said a weak little thing like me could never satisfy you the way the three of them did. That you’ll grow bored of me and come back to them. That you don’t…”

The way your breath hitches, tears pooling in your eyes…

Rage fills your husband, fire in his veins, “That I don’t what, little one?”

“That you don’t love me. That you never will,” comes your anguished whisper. Feyd lets out an animalistic growl, baring his teeth in a snarl. “Feyd, please don’t be angry with me, I shouldn’t have said anything-”

He quickly realizes that you’ve mistaken his anger as being directed toward you and loosens his grip, shaking his head though his expression is still furious, “I’m not angry at you. I would never be angry at you. You are the only one who brings any sense of calm into my life, little one. You are my wife. I chose you.”

He releases you from his grip, stalking past you toward the door. 

Your lips part in surprise as you stare after him, confused, “My lord?”

Feyd pauses, turning to look at you, pulling his dagger from its sheath, gritting his teeth, “I have to take care of something, my love. I’ll return soon.”

“FEYD?!”

His grin is bloody at the sound of your shriek, the heads of his three concubines thrown at your feet. Feyd chuckles as you scramble backward on the bed, staring at the disembodied heads with shock. He crawls over your body, feeling pleased when you calm at his touch, your hands resting on his cheeks, still stained with blood. He traces your lips with his thumb, watching as your eyes flutter shut at his touch.

“I will never let anyone come between us, little one,” he rasps, pressing his lips to your jaws, the blood of his concubines staining your skin, “Never. You are the one I love, the one I chose. I never went to see them after I took you as my own because I know their touch could never satisfy my lust, my love the way yours can.”

You kiss him, your legs parting to accommodate his frame as his tongue moves against your own. He’s eager tonight, you muse, feeling the bulge in his pants pressing against you. He moves your underwear to the side, fingers stroking at your slit, a wicked smile on his face.

“Seeing your lord husband painted in blood made you so wet,” Feyd whispers, “It seems my little wife isn’t so innocent after all.”

You bite back a smile as he spreads your thighs, mouthing at your wet cunt. And when you close your eyes, your head falling back against your pillow, he lands a slap against your center. A reminder that if you don’t keep your eyes locked on him, what he’s doing to you, he won’t allow you to reach your peak. He moans, pulling you in close, burying his face between your legs, inhaling your scent as he continues lapping at your folds like a man starved. Your fingers twist in the silken bedsheets, losing yourself in the pleasure he gives you, reaching your peak against his tongue, pulling him into another kiss as he crawls over you.

“No woman could ever taste as sweet, mewl my name so perfectly,” he vows, slipping his pants down to reveal his pale cock, already achingly hard, leaking from the tip, “It’s only you, my love. No one will ever come between us. Not even death.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, feeling him rut against you, his cock brushing against your sweet spot every time he slams back into you, your nails raking down the pale skin of his back, leaving an angry red trail in their wake. Feyd bites down hard on your neck, hard enough to draw blood and leave a mark. You take his hand, bringing it to your throat, and Feyd immediately knows what you wish of him. He squeezes, restricting your airflow, smirking at the way it makes your body tense, your peak quickly approaching once again. Your eyes roll back as he spills himself inside you, his hot seed filling you.

Perhaps you seemed a sweet, unassuming little thing to your husband’s former lovers. But they didn’t realize that the longer you spent with him, the more your tastes began to mirror those of your husband.

He presses his lips to yours in a kiss, uncharacteristically gentle and yet still so very passionate as he vows to you once again, “I love you. Nothing will ever come between us.”

You grin, moving to lay on top of him, raking your nails down his chest as you whisper, feeling his cock already beginning to twitch against your thigh, “I believe you, my husband.”

Feyd chuckles, hands moving to palm at the flesh of your ass, groaning slightly as you continue your ministrations, clearly not wanting tonight’s fun to be through, “What a greedy little monster I’ve made of you, little one.”

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.”

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! Here with another chapter. I am having fun writing this! Thank you so much for supporting me and liking, leaving commnets. Means alot. Love u all.

Warnings: Slight mention of SA. Our babies yearning for each other especially Feyd!

Words: 2.081K

TAG LIST IS OPEN! (Let me know if i forgot to tag your or if you changed your username pls)

Chapter Twelve

Y/N woke up with a strange scent hitting her brain through her nostrils, the scent was strong, she opened her eyes but didn’t move because she didn’t know where she was and if they noticed that she was awake they might do something to her. She was on the ground, laid on a thin orange rug, it was made of spice fibers, that was the cause of the smell. She was in Arrakis and the entire planet filled with spice, and it had a strong scent. Someone must have changed her clothes because she was wearing a long dress, the color beige, it was baggy and comfortable. The inside was lit by the dim glowglobes, the color dark yellow, she noticed the coolness of the inside, she was in a Sietch.

‘’Morning Sayyadina.’’ A woman’s voice was heard, without looking Y/N already deduced that it was the same woman who captured her. Thanks to her Bene Gesserit tricks she might walk out alive because the sisterhood had spread their prophecies and religious believes throughout the entire planet.

Y/N slowly moved her body to sat, the ground under her was carved and rough, this Sietch must be thousands of years old and still changing its shape every year, maybe another thousand years it will disappear.

The woman was standing by the open space, the room didn’t have a door just a hole that was covered with a thin sheet of spice curtain, clearly handmade. She entered the room and sat opposite of Y/N.  ‘’If I had known you were with child I wouldn’t have hit you so hard.’’ She was sincere, looking at Y/N with dark blue eyes, due to spice consumption the Fremens’ eyes turn to blue. How did they know that she was pregnant? Maybe their Reverend Mother dressed her and found out. Her hand went to her head, a piece of dry blood rubbed itself on her fingers, it hurt but she didn’t make a sound, she couldn’t show any weaknesses.                                                                                                     ‘’Here.’’ The woman came with a tray of cold water and piece of bread, Y/N came up with a conclusion that if they wanted her dead she would be dead already so she took the tray and drank the water, it tasted strange but she knew it wasn’t poisoned. ‘’Thank you.’’ She said, keeping her voice calm and neutral. Y/N looked at the woman, she was one of the warriors and she had some designs on her suit that distinguished her from other warriors, her rank must be high.  ‘’Why do you call me Sayyadina?’’ she asked, curious. The woman stood up, ‘’Because you are a witch, but you haven’t completed your journey yet. Finish your bread and come with me.’’

It dawned on her, her mind immediately went to a book she had read before coming here, there was a section about Reverend Mothers of Arrakis that said; Sayyadina- Among the Fremen the Syyadina, (Friend of God in Chakobsa) is a priestess who has not yet passed within to become a Reverend Mother. When a Sayyadina undergoes the spice agony, another is then consecrated into the Sayyadina to continue the line of succession.

Did they want her to be the new Reverend Mother? For the Sisterhood, especially Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam it would be a great victory, having Y/N as Helen’s little spy and shaping the future in Arrakis. However, her main reason to be here was to be with her husband, Feyd-Rautha. She was aware of the obvious fact that Fremens hated Harkonnens and if they found out that Y/N was married to one and carrying his child… she didn’t want to think of that. She had to get out of here but she knew that alone in the desert, she didn’t stand a chance.

Y/N got up as she finished her bread and left the small room, she didn’t have any footwear but the coldness of the ground calmed her senses. Outside of the room she was kept, there was a larger space, there were holes on the walls for Fremens’ rooms to sleep, it must have been daylight because they were all inside and working. Some were training, some were sewing the warrior clothes that were damaged. They all looked at her up and down, their blue eyes screamed ‘’Stranger!’’

They were a society where their eyes talked more than their mouths. The entire Sietch was lit by glowglobs, there were few holes on the tops so sunlight coming through but thanks to the design the inside was perfectly colder than the hell outside. ‘’During the day we don’t go out, not just because of the heat, we don’t want to be seen by the enemy.’’ The woman was explaining as she walked and Y/N was following her like a toddler. She immediately knew who the enemy was, her husband and his family. ‘’At night we go out, we hunt, we attack.’’ She stopped and turned to her, ‘’I’ll teach you how to sandwalk.’’

Y/N watched some videos on it, in order to be safe and not being detected by the giant worms one must learn how to sandwalk, it was like a dance, a dance to Shai-Hulud one might argue. ‘’We learn when we’re only a child.’’ She continued explaining few stuff about her culture and the way of life here. ‘’I am taking you to our Naib. Stilgar.’’ Naib ment ‘’leader of sietch’’ she had to be cunning and manipulative as her sisters. Y/N’s hand went to her stomach and she started to pray silently; Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration…

Feyd-Rautha Harkonenn unlike his older brother Glossu ‘’Beast’’ Rabban he hadalready figured it out that the best time to explore and attack was at night. During the day the desert was a killing machine, because of Rabban they had lost so many useful men. During the day Feyd and his men had made plans on the map of the desert, his first plan was to go to the abandoned cargo ship and deduce himself, maybe he could see something that his men couldn’t and try to find the nearby Sietches, the problem was that these Sietches were hidden so carefully that one couldn’t see but had to know the secret ways to enter. The ones they had found were empty and the rumors had reached his ears, all of the Fremen tribes were getting together to attack him. He had to stop them before it happened and also he had to find his wife. His priorities were shifting and the hologram message he got from his uncle earlier today wasn’t to his liking. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen was furious, he was demanding Y/N’s head. Of course he didn’t say to Feyd that she was pregnant, if Feyd knew he wouldn’t touch her but Baron wanted her dead. He figured they could find another highborn wench for his dear nephew and they could have as many male offspring as they wished. His words ringing in Feyd’s ears; ‘’She put our family name in disgrace. If you don’t take care of her your brother will.’’

Feyd’s blood boiled as soon as he heard that sentence, his throat went dry. He remembered the night of Rabban’s disrespect towards her, Feyd knew what kind of a monster his brother was. Rabban was going to rape her first and then torture her and then kill her. Feyd punched the bathroom mirror, he would burn his entire household to the ground before he let that happen. He looked at his reflection through the broken glass, distorted just like him, she was the opposite of him. She was kind, gentle and he would kill every man on this galaxy to see her and hold her in his strong arms one last time.

As the night came with shiny starts with the moons visible on the night sky, Feyd and his soldiers mounted the ships and left the palace. Their first stop was the cargo ship which was raided by the Fremen and left to rot. ‘’Na- Baron, we have searched the entire ship and only found Lady Na-Baroness’ headscarf as you know. There is nothing here.’’ His old advisor said in a neutral tone, standing behind Feyd who had entered the ship through broken metal lids, as soon as he entered his strong animalistic senses could pick up her pheromones, just like he did with the headscarf his men brought to him but he noticed something strange. Her pheromones were more sweeter than usual, more lively..  He wondered why he was picking that scent but didn’t dwell on it. The ship was just an empty metal box, the Fremen had taken every cable every electrical device they could.

Their next stop nearby rocks and mountains, the search continued till the first light, Feyd was growing restless, he was determined to bring her back  but the first day of rescue failed miserably and his rage had met three of his servants, he put their heads on spikes for everyone to see, he announced before he entered the through the palace’s gigantic stone doors, ‘’The person who finds Lady Na-Baroness will earn enough spice to make him the emperor of this galaxy!’’ he yelled to his army who were standing immobile in the sand garden of the palace, there were only few palm trees and just orange sand. His arm saluted in the Harkonen way and screamed his name;

‘’Feyd-Rautha!’’

‘’Feyd-Rautha!’’

‘’Feyd-Rautha!’’

It had been few weeks since she arrived, the woman who captured her became her friend, Sama was a fierce warrior and also a caring person. She was giving Y/N extra food since she was pregnant. Sama had told her that the reason why she wasn’t was because that Stilgar knew she would be helpful and he was right, Y/N was healing the warriors, helping the old Reverend Mother, making healing potions and teaching it to the young Sayyadinas. She had quickly figured it out that there were no such thing as useless Fremen, the useless ones were killed, they grew up in this hard conditions and trained themselves to be selfless and be at service all the time. When she was free she was wandering in this enormous Sietch and try to eavesdrop. She was quick to learn a new language so she started to understand their daily conversations and yesterday her heart filled with hope because she heard Sama and Stilgar talking about the ‘’Harkonnens’’

Stilgar had said ‘’That boy is looking for someone, do you think it is a coincidence that we found her in the middle of the desert? Wake up Sama!’’ Stilgar had put the pieces together but apparently Sama was in denial, maybe she didn’t want to believe that her new friend was a Harkonnen’s wife…

Every night she was praying to meet him again, see him and melt into his arms. Y/N felt the ring on her finger, it was the wedding ring Feyd had given her, it belonged to her mother.. she had so many questions. Did he really killed his own mother? If he did then what was she suppose to do? She knew that nothing will be answered till she sees him in flesh and blood.

‘’Sayyadina?!’’ someone called her name, she turned to face the owner of the voice, ‘’Reverend Mother has asked your presence in her private chambers.’’ She bowed her head and followed the man, Fremen men were mostly dark skinned and dark haired, they were very muscular and always alert. The curtain was drawn, she cleared her throat and entered, the dim lights gave the room a mysterious look, there were books at every corner, potions and religious artifacts. ‘’Reverend Mother.’’ She bowed, the old woman was sitting on the ground, her entire body covered, only her face could be seen, she motioned with her hand for Y/N to come closer and she did, she sat in front of the old woman.

She was in spice trance, it was evident in her blown eyes and the smell of the spice, she held Y/N’s hand, the grip tenacious. ‘’I see you, all the time..’’ she began, her voice hoarse, ‘’he is looking for his wife… a treachery on his part.’’

Y/N was aware of the fact that too much spice consumption gave one prophecies, ‘’Soon, soon..’’ the old woman started to scream, ‘’Soon! Soon!’’ other Sayaddinas marched in and helped Y/N, the old woman’s grip left a red mark on her wrist.

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