#girl dad feyd

[ohbeyewise]

Two Sociopaths of High Intelligence

People- when I heard Feyd-Rautha described as a sociopath of high intelligence, I was reminded of my favorite high functioning sociopath and a version of reality when these two cold-eyed men met came into being.

Don't ask me how- it's not important. Probably the Doctor since Sherlock is taking me back to 2014.

I thought it would be really interesting to explore a little bit of a world where Sherlock spent a few of his formative years on Ghedi Prime as a companion/servant of the young Na-Baron. In such a dynamic Sherlock would be a very intelligent but sensitive soul compared to his peers and that would explain his impatience and threshold for violence back in London.

Sherlock exposed to the spice or with Mentat training? Too powerful a combination! It puts his drug addiction in a whole new light.

Though familiar with both the Dune and Sherlock Fandoms, this is making no effort to follow cannon. (clearly) and is entirely unbeta'd.

Also, because it's so popular I have included the assumption that this Feyd has married an Atraides wife and is wildly devoted to her and his children. Please enjoy!

“Sherlock! We need you at the yard!”

Sherlock had no patience for Sally Donovan on any given day, but this time there was a catch in her voice that stood out to him. She was unnerved. She had practically flew up the stairs to the flat in her effort to get to him quickly. This was the first time she hadn’t hesitated at his doorstep. There were only a few things that could unnerve Sally, as irritating as she was, and of those things there were even fewer that would result in him being asked to come to the police station. 

“Is it interesting?” He asked languidly, waiting for her fear to confirm his suspicions. She huffed. As always, irritated by Sherlock's blaise attitude. He was always feeling the exact wrong thing. 

“Someone’s asking for you, a bald freak. He says you know him.” 

Sherlock hummed. Feigning disinterest even as he glanced around to determine where John was. At work judging by the coat rack. 

“Well who is he?” He demanded impatiently after waiting for a moment for Sergeant Donovan to elaborate. Bald would always put him in mind of Ghedi Prime, where he had spent a few years working for the Baron’s family but that was hardly a help to him here in London. How many times did he have to say he was a detective and not a mind reader?

“We don’t know!” She barked back, her unease coming through once more as she shifted in place. “Now are you coming or not?” 

“I’ll follow in a cab.” Sherlock eventually agreed with another roll of his eyes. Her fear wouldn’t be out of place if there was a Harkonnen ambassador waiting for him at the police station. Idly, Sherlock wondered what he would do if there was such a person. In some ways it would be a relief to return to the life he’d once had. The intrigue, the whispers, the plans within plans and plots within plots… he'd never been bored. Only Moriarty had ever been able to scratch the itch that his former life had left in him. 

The yard was unusually silent while they all waited anxiously for Sherlock to arrive. Sergeant Donovan had texted Inspector Lestrade that she had collected him and was on her way back only a few minutes ago, but each moment dragged dangerously on. 

The. . . guests, Lestrade supposed he could call them waited patiently, completely still. Apparently unbothered by the surrounding police officers. 

If their stillness wasn’t strange enough Lestrade was put off by the way they looked. Rarely had he been faced with such a …. monochromatic group of people. 

They all looked alarmingly similar; pale, hairless, and dressed in layers of black. 

Lestrade would have pegged them for some kind of new age high fashion group of some kind, the sort of people who had come into the world with money and had run out of ideas about how to use it but that didn’t quite suit them. They were too, well… militaristic for lack of a better word. 

The whole group of them, five altogether had filed into the station, nearly an hour ago. 

They walked with a sharpness and regularity that took years of practice and had filed off the street and up the stairs and the the doors with a smooth, almost water-like steps. There had been no hesitation. No pausing to read the signs about where to que, they marched right to the front desk, and asked for Sherlock Holmes. 

Lestrade had been called down from his office by the very flustered secretary because a group of scary men looking for Sherlock was unfortunately his division. He had guided the group into an empty conference room, deciding against putting them under arrest and in an interrogation room until he actually learned something. 

However, despite his best efforts, Sherlock’s name was the only thing he was able to get out of them. He wasn’t convinced, after fifteen minutes of fruitless questions that they even spoke English. The one who spoke, one of the shorter men stood out from the others because of a strange rectangular black tattoo over his lip bottom lip and down his chin.

“Come off it, why do you want to see Sherlock?” He asked again, exasperated by the silence he was being met with. 

“Sherlock Holmes.” The man said again, his pronunciation careful and deliberate, like he was reading a cue card. 

His voice had a smooth, silibus quality that stretched the S in Sherlock’s name just a touch farther then they should have been, and snapped down on the K with unusual force. It made Lestrade wonder if their native language, as he was getting to be more and more convinced that they had, was mostly made of harsh sounds, deep in the throat. 

Lestrade had asked, begged and demand they give him some more information, to no avail. He hadn’t convinced any of the others to speak. Most didn’t even look him in the eye, instead fixating their gazes just past him. 

He had forensics looking through surveillance footage, to see if they could get anything they could use to identify them, but so far nothing. 

It was ridiculous, big conspicuous group like this? They should have left a trial a mile wide behind them. 

“It’s got to be some kind of elaborate prank. It’s the only explanation.” Anderson said, glaring out at the group from behind the glass door. Lestrade had taken a break, he was sick of meeting their cold staring eyes and knew he needed to take a step back. 

“Well if it is, I don’t get the punchline.” Lestrade said watching them through the conference room window from his place beside Anderson, holding his mug of long cold coffee tightly. 

“It’s got to be something the freak’s set up. Bunch of freaks come in here looking for another freak? They know each other somehow. He’s pulling one over on us.” Anderson scoffed as he spoke, if he was a less nosey man he might even have left it alone and walked away. 

“Well I hope he does. Maybe then he can explain what they want and why they felt like they had to come to the police station to get it.” 

The longer Lestrade watched them the more he thought he had pegged the leader. It wasn’t the spokesman. He was sure. 

Instead, he thought it was a man in the middle, flanked on all sides with his back to the wall. There was something about the way that the others surrounded him, each with their backs to him, creating nearly a kind of staggered circle around him. 

He was slightly taller than average, and slighter of figure than the bulkier men who stood around him, but there was something about the way he watched the room. Almost… predatory. Lestrade felt silly even thinking it but the longer he stood in the man's presence, the truer it seemed to be. 

Unlike the others, he made no effort to avoid eye contact, instead almost forcing it, looking intently at Lestrade when he spoke.

There was a hint of a smile on his face, but it was far from a friendly expression, instead dangerous and – Lestrade was uncomfortable just drawing the comparison- just like Sherlock’s most cheshire grins. There was something about the cold expression in the eyes that kept Lestrade from looking at them too long. They were almost. . . snake like. 

Even holding still with his hands clasped in front of him the man radiated an animal intensity that Lestrade could feel from across the room. 

Finally giving in to the silence, Lestrade poked his head back inside, making eye contact with the yet unnamed man. “He’s on his way.”

There was a flicker of something, too fast for Lestrade to catch it across the man’s face but the hair on the back of Lestrade’s neck stood up and started trying to pull him away. Not for the first time, Lestrade hoped he wasn’t putting Sherlock in danger by having him come over here. 

Donavan must have had her lights on because she slammed the door open in record time. The banging of the door against the wall was loud against the stillness that the strange man’s cold eyes had brought and made Lestrade jump his heart pounding after such a long tense silence. 

Sherlock swished in after Donavan, his coat flowing behind him and his usual sneer of indifference on his face. It shuddered away as soon as he caught sight of who was waiting for him in the conference room. 

Sherlock came to an abrupt halt, almost rearing backwards in surprise. 

Lestrade strained forward to try and make out Sherlocks expression, his hand on his gun just in case but to his surprise there was an almost… warmth to his expression. 

A… fondness that Lestrade had only ever seen directed at John or, on occasion, Mrs. Hudson. It was gone as soon as Lestrade registered it, hidden behind a careful professionalism as Sherlock stepped to the side away from Donovan into the room and to Lestrade’s everlasting shock - dipped into a deep sincere bow, nothing like the mocking ones Lestrade had seen from the man on occasion. 

Lestrade struggled to follow Sherlock, the room was getting tight with all seven of them, and despite his slight stature Sherlock couldn’t help but take up the space of two men. 

“Na-Baron.” Sherlock’s voice held a careful reverence and respect that Lestrade had never heard from him before. He couldn’t help himself from taking another look to make sure it was Sherlock who was speaking. 

The man that Lestrade had picked out, the one with the snake eyes and dangerous, sharp expression stepped forward away from his compatriots. The way he moved was just as smooth as his stare. He held himself with the ease of a man who was used to being obeyed. There was no hesitation, impatience or uncertainty in his movements, or expression. Lestrade knew instinctively that the man, the “Na-Barron” As Sherlock had identified him was a trained fighter, as capable of a burst of deadly speed as the snake he so resembled. 

Even his few steps forward were economical, there was no movement wasted, no glance without a purpose. Lestrade didn’t know if he had ever seen a man with a more sure hold on the ground beneath his feet. 

“William.” Lestrade would have been caught off guard by the address, but he was too busy being surprised at the sound of the Na-Barons voice. 

It wasn’t what Lestrade was expecting. It was a dark, raspy sound, almost sensual in how it slipped out of his mouth. The strange accent that his companion had spoken with was almost entirely absent, but there was a harshness to his voice that Lestrade normally associated with smokers.

“It’s Baron, now.” It was said softly, Lestrade would have called if casually except for the danger that was so clearly present. 

Sherlock stood back up, his motion smooth and practiced. As if he’d made that bow a hundred times. 

“My apologies my lord, and my condolences.” 

The Baron’s chilling smirk, widened to something more like a grin and Lestrade was appalled to see that the man’s teeth were black. Not the black of decay but a glossy, prepared black. One that contracted with his almost colorless skin and added a terrible otherworldliness to his expression. 

“Yes. My Uncle's death was unexpected.” 

There was nothing close to remorse in the words. The moment he said them Lestrade felt sure that this man had killed his uncle. There was something so insidious, so deliberately casual in their delivery, it put all of his teeth on edge. 

Lestrade watched Sherlock closely, waiting for a clue of some kind as to what kind of man this so-called Baron was. 

Sherlocks expression was unreadable, he was looking over the Baron carefully, using his skills to draw conclusions from the Baron’s appearance that was beyond Lestrade’s ability. 

“You’ve come a long way from Ghedi Prime my Lord. Is it to do with your Uncles unfortunate passing?” 

The dreadful dark grin on the Baron’s face continued as he chastised. 

“It was unexpected. Not a mystery.” 

Sherlock hesitated, even as he bowed his head in acceptance of the clarification, watching the man closely, from beneath his curls and Lestrade wondered if he dared to interrupt. There was clearly more they were saying to each other then he was able to discern. 

The Baron stepped forward again, coming closer to Sherlock with a clean, hunters gait, his arms loose at his sides, ready to strike.

He stood right in front of Sherlock, in his personal space, meeting his eyes directly. 

“No. There is something else I need you for. Something… more important.” His voice was quiet. Deliberate. If there had been any other noise in the station Lestrade wouldn’t have been able to pick out the low, intimate rasp. 

Lestrade took a step forward, hands on his hips, ready to interpret but stopped at Sherlocks extending hand holding him back. 

He frowned but waited, trusting Sherlock for now. 

“And what service can I offer the great Barron Feyd-Rautha?” Sherlock’s voice was low, subservient and flattering, without a hint of mockery. 

Lestrade cringed to hear it, and he knew without looking that his crew was doing the same from where they were pressed against the doors and walls to listen. It was unnatural to see Sherlock of all people trying to be ingratiating. Worse to see it be successful. 

“You,” the man, Feyd-Rautha Lestrade supposed was his name, took a step around Sherlock, starting to circle him. Sherlock turned his head to keep an eye on him but didn’t spin around, allowing the man at his back. 

Lestrade was forced to step away to stay clear of the Barrons stride, nearly out of the room entirely.

“Are going to help me find something. Or rather someone.” As he spoke the room seemed to get colder. Chilled by the ice in his raspy voice. Lestrade could feel the cold rage leaking off him. 

“Someone that belongs to me.” There was a darkness in that. Lestrade, trapped, watched as Sherlock carefully worked to learn his new task without waking the waiting bloodlust coursing through the Barons body, building a tension that would only break with blood. 

“One of of your’s my lord?” There was a deceptive casualness to his tone. 

How Sherlock remained calm when the Baron turned and hissed at him, black teeth flashing against pale skin Lestrade didn’t know.

“Things have changed since I last procured your services.” 

“Your ascendancy my lord.” 

“My progenitorship.” He rolled the word over his tongue, passing it gently, lovingly to Sherlock from where he stood, nearly pressed to the shorter mans back.

“You will help recover what has been taken from me.” Feyd-Rautha didn’t need to say or else, or promise suffering or even death to the perpetrators. The guarantee was in the air. 

Lestrade didn’t know if he was more afraid for whoever had dared to steal from this man or the person they had taken. 

Sherlock’s head tilted, and Lestrade didn’t have to see him to know what expression was on his face, like a hunting dog picking up an scent. The thick tense atmosphere did nothing to stop Sherlock coming alight at what was clearly an exciting challenge. The hunt, as he was apt to say, was on. 

Sherlock could feel the stakes mount over him. He turned to face his old companion, eyes bright with affront. 

“Someone has taken your heir?” The careful handling that had been in his every motion, every word was abruptly gone, instead replaced with something almost like awe, or that’s what Lestrade would have thought if he’d ever considered Sherlock capable of something as human as awe. 

His dropping of whatever strange role he had been taking before was met by Feyd-Rautha who once more snarled in a rage that was only just reigned in. Lestrade noticed that his men flinched at the sound. Each one watching Feyd with a care that spoke of long practice avoiding his wrath. 

“My youngest. I will have her back.” 

“Alright- that’s enough of that.” 

Sherlock, who had been tilted to face the “Baron” (which wasn’t making any sense to Lestrade, last he checked none of the lords of the land looked like Voldemort with a nose) Snapped his head up and faced him, his eyes alight with an expression that made Lestrade doubly uneasy. 

“Listen Sherlock- come here.” He would have reached out and tried to pull Sherlock back towards him, but the Baron's expression- he seemed entirely too pleased at the idea of Lestrade putting himself within his grasp- stopped him from finishing the action. 

“Come here.” Lestrade repeated with more force when it didn’t look like Sherlock was going to obey him. He wondered what he would do if Sherlock didn’t come. Did he dare to let them leave? Would he risk trying to make them stay? 

The Baron, seemed almost surprised when Sherlock decided to follow Lestrade command, but he did not stop him. 

Sherlock made an aborted kind of bow to the man and stepped past Lestrade, swiftly moving past him and leaving the conference room. 

Lestrade followed him out and shut the door. 

Sherlock spun and faced him, tension clear on his face. “Listen to me detective. It is vitally important that you and the yard stay away from this. Far away. Do you understand?”

Lestrade swore. “The hell I do. What’s going on? Who are these people?” 

Sherlock stepped froward till he was nose to nose with Lestrade, breath mixing between them. Lestrade leaned back in surprise. 

“I will explain as much as I can as soon as I can but right now you need to let me take Feyd-Rautha and-” 

“Feyd- what?” Lestrade interrupted only to be steamrolled by Sherlock.

“And leave right now.” There was a tension, a tightly controlled fear in Sherlock’s voice that Lestrade very uneasy.

“I-” Lestrade opened his mouth to protest but Sherlock, after glancing right over his shoulder continued 

“Greg. Please.” 

Lestrade almost fell over. Never before had Sherlock said his name correctly. 

“This is the only way.”

Lestrade hesitated, Sherlock’s carefully controlled fear working over him. 

“Okay. Alright.”

As soon as his consent was out of his mouth Sherlock opened the door swung out, his steps long and easily measured. Careful. The fear he had pleaded with was completely absent now, Lestrade wondered which Sherlock was a mask, the one who spoke to him, or the one who spoke to the Baron. 

“I am at your service Baron.” 

Lestrade watched, filled with trepidation as the Baron gestured for Sherlock to lead the way out of the station. 

“I knew you would be.” Lestrade resisted the duel urge to run after Sherlock, and to run away when the Baron looked over and grinned triumphantly with devil black teeth and a steady vipers eye. Instead he stood rooted to the spot as the consulting detective he had started to consider a friend guided who he felt was a trained killer out of the police station. When had it come to this? When had he started to trust Sherlock over his own instincts?

[thatoneweirdgirl17]

Okay I came up with this at work because I was left alone with my thoughts for 10 hrs.

Imagine a feyd x single mom reader except the baby is Paul’s. Reader used to be a servant in caladan and eventually her and Paul messed around, she approached lady Jessica in confidence for help but instead got sold off because Paul getting a servant girl pregnant was not part of her plan. Later feyd kinda saves reader from the a-hole who bought her but in reality he was there to kill the guy for betraying the baron and saw reader and decided he wanted her. He finds out she’s already pregnant but instead of killing her of getting rid of her he kinda hides her away so he can have his own secret lil family (maybe as a way to cope with the childhood that was stolen from him). Feyd has his harpies protect and hide her and the baby and over time the girls bond (baby is having the worlds most protective and feral aunties). Eventually reader tell feyd who the baby’s dad is and explains how she ended up at the a-holes house. Feyd finds the situation hilarious but still decides to protect reader and raise the baby as his own (not really out of love but more as a jab at Paul like haha I have your toys but they do eventually grow to care about each other, maybe not love but definitely a codependency). When the baby is born he immediately becomes attached to her (I must protect this tiny creature) which is a new emotion to him.For a couple of years baby girl grows up seeing feyd as her dad. Eventually the events of dune happen and right before Paul is about to stab him, feyd says something along the lines “ go ahead and kill me in front of your daughter”. Paul is understandingly confused until a lil 4-5 year old comes running out to feyd screaming daddy and using the voice to make Paul back off. Everyone can instantly see who her biological father is since she has his hair, eyes and is able to use the voice. Feyd would definitely have a shit eating grin when Paul learns that his mother is the reason his daughter grew up without him. Paul tries to approach her but she turns her head and says to feyd “daddy I wanna go home” and Paul’s heart just breaks at the realization that he lost his daughter before he even knew about her. Paul can’t kill Feyd since he would loose his daughter even more and they basically create a custody agreement where Paul can come and visit her every month.

Please if someone turns this into a fic tag me so I can read🙏

Edit: I am planning on writing this out but give me some time since it will be my first fanfic since high school

@dreamlandcreations @triluvial @austinbutlerslovers @sansaorgana @purejasmine @sebastianswallows

[dreamlandcreations]

ooooooh that's such a good discussion material 👀

it really depends on how you want to look at his personality and what canon you want to involve...

I'm not even sure he could handle the situation at all on a personal level. I mean, yes that's his heir and he has to have one but that's not the same as viewing the child as a person rather than a necessary piece of the game for power. The best case might be that he looks at him/her like an extension of himself

Actually, I don't think he would even think about the possibility of having a daughter during the pregnancy bc everyone would talk about having a male heir. And when the girl is born I still don't see him making a big fuss about it. It would take him as a surprise but wouldn't really be a concern bc a) "she is mine therefore she is above others" b) *shurgs* she is healthy, the next one can be a boy

I also have a feeling he would be threatened by a male heir, especially if the kid turns out to be like him. So a girl might be a better option.

There might be an issue with the tradition but I doubt Feyd would take any bullshit from anyone if he decides that it will be his girl that inherits his title

The gender of the heir is not even the main issue here tbh. It would all depend on Feyd's partner. He is too young and too self-centered to be put into the position of being responsible for a tiny human. He would need a wife/concubine who is more level headed and he would respect enough to listen to.

Male or female Heir?

I really don't know if I'm going to do it (it also depends on the votes from the previous post), but do you think Feyd could be happy with a female heir?

I'm thinking about 50/50 right now...

On the one hand, he might not care as long as he really knows the child is his. And that his girl can also become a proud warrior / knight. Especially when you think, she's a Harkonnen.

On the other hand, as you can see in many movies and series, boys are usually preferred. Because many think they would be stronger. (100% Vladimir, haha. Especially when you think, he's a Harkonnen.)

Hmm…

[abundance-of-fic-reblogs]

I'm imagining girl dad!Feyd-Rautha who will make anyone who disrespects his daughter bow at her feet and beg for forgiveness. He'll even give her the honor of choosing whether they live or die. But that part is just all for show to make his daughter giggle because he will still definitely kill them later even if she lets them live lol.

Meanwhile, boy dad!Feyd-Rautha will probably give his 5 year old son a knife and will say something like "you have to show them they can't disrespect you" 😬

[austinbutlerslovers]

Maybe i am delulu but i feel that Feyd would be such a girldad. Like ,, He did what." ,, Don't worry little beastie daddy will fix it."

He is so girl dad ☺️ in the film & novel he has a daughter after unknowingly impregnating Lady Fenring who was sent to secure his bloodline for the Bene Gessirit breeding program via impregnation.

He is also boy dad because if Lady Jessica followed her orders, they wouldn’t have had to send Lady Fenring. Paul would’ve been ‘Paulette’! ☺️ Feyd Harkonnen wouldve married ‘Paulette’ Atriedes and fathered the Kswis Haderach (super human)

[sebastianswallows]

That last headcannon about Feyd's sadness, was that about him dreaming about seeing his daughter, Marie , from his one night with Lady Margot? Cause if it is, it got me gooood!!

It is! Nothing is made of Marie Fenring in the books, and it upsets me so much.

I love thinking of Feyd as a father. He'd be perhaps the most unusual and unlikely girl dad ever 😂

[vulpine-spectacle]

Vulpine found myself thinking about how much I think Feyd has the greatest daddy-of-twins vibe. Just imagining him doing all their whims while Eurydice is like "feyd you can't kill the cook because the girls didn't like the food🙄"

FEYD AS A TWIN DAD IS MY EVERYTHING!!!

Not me trying to think up a way for Eurydice and Feyd to have twin daughters within the narrative because, by GOD!! THAT WOULD BE!! SO!! CUTE!! @^@

[sansaorgana]

You have no idea the excitement I’m feeling to see Reader come face to face with Paul again!!!! Just thinking about I’m jumping out of my seat!!! And the scene of her smelling her father’s robe. Just wanting him near her again !!!! Aaahhhhhh I love Feyd but I miss girly having her family. Personally I’m such a Daddy’s Girl. Idk how reader is getting though it. 🫶🏾 I love seeing her forced to face the ghost of her family. She’s been so dissociated from the death of her Father and Paul bc she’s been planets away. I wonder how she’ll handle it when it’s right in front of her. What’s going through her head you know?

Hi, babe 😍 I am excited about them meeting again, too! I missed writing tttw so badly over Easter. I hope to start writing again soon and post the final chapter at the end of the week 🥰 Because after 4 days of working on my thesis I don't want to look at it for at least two weeks.

Tbh I feel more weird with her being an orphan. It suits my story better but I'm a huge mummy's girlie and I can't imagine not having a mum (even if we're toxic af with each other lmao). My dad's an asshole so it's easier for me to write this way about Duke Leto but what makes it more difficult is that DUKE LETO COULD LIKE GET IT and I've even been writing for him in the past so... Yeah 🙈 Now when I refer to him as a father in this fic... Feels weird xd

I'm glad you're excited and I hope I will not disappoint. That is also why I want to take more time with writing the last chapter. To make sure I don't regret anything later. I'm sure lots of people will be angry anyway because everyone has their own vision of how they want it to end but I can't please everybody...😪

[seresinhangmanjake]

seresinhangmanjake moodboards

Top Gun:

Top Gun: Maverick Crossovers

Jake Seresin x Goth Girl / Bradley Bradshaw x Goth Girl

Pirate!Jake Seresin x Siren!lover

Bestfriend!Jake Seresin

Twisters:

Video Game Characters

Tyler Owens Wedding

Girl Dad!Tyler

Family Halloween

Gold Rush Newlywed!Tyler

The Bikeriders:

Benny State Fair Date

Benny Birthday Date

Dune 2:

Feyd Rautha Wedding

Feyd Rautha x Atreides

Dad!Feyd

Demon!Feyd x Fallen Angel

Feyd Rautha Arranged Marriage

MW2:

Simon Riley x Soap's Sister

[destinyc1020]

Well, Austin copied Bill Skarsgard dad's voice to play Feyd Rautha so he can easily play Bill's brother. Even Stellan was surprised when he first heard Austin doing the Feyd's voice. Austin has a good knack for doing different voices because his Christopher Walken is also amazing. That's why it's so annoying when haters say that he is stuck with the Elvis voice when he has not been doing the Elvis voice for years, he just has a lower voice than when he was a teen. Colman Domingo mentioned recently how his amazing lower register did not fully develop until he was in his 40s

Haha yea, Austin has a great knack for doing voice impersonations lol. 😅

He mentioned on his SNL opening monologue that growing up, he used to do voice impersonations to try to get his mom to laugh or put a smile on her face. He even did a quick Gallum impression on the show that was pretty spot on! 😂

The Christopher Walken voice impersonation is great too lol.

And yea girl, Idk why ppl think he's somehow deliberately putting on a fake voice. 🙄 It's obvious he's not. Do you know how hard it would be to FAKE a voice for years day in and day out? 🥴

And yea, I thought it was already common knowledge that all of our voices naturally deepen with age? 🥴 Otherwise, we'd all sound like a bunch of 15 year olds for the rest of our lives rofl 🤣 😂

If you listen to Austin in The Shannara Chronicles (long before Elvis), you'll see that his voice was already getting deeper by then.

And wow! I didn't know that little tidbit about Colman!😳 It can definitely happen though! My step-dad said that his voice didn't get as deep as it is now until he was much older.... like, way past puberty. Some men's voices just continue to change over the years. 🤷🏾‍♀️

And also, Austin used to smoke in the past. I know he's said he's "quit", but who knows for sure? (Smoking is highly addictive 🥴) It's a well-known fact that smoking will change your voice if you do it long enough or often enough.

The only real difference that I see in Austin's voice is that it's raspier, he sounds less "Californian" now, and he might pronounce certain words here and there a little differently. And also, Austin used to speak kinda fast lol. 😅 I'm sure with Elvis vocal training, they more than likely told him to slow DOWN in his speech, and I think it just stuck? 🤷🏾‍♀️

Elvis was from Tupelo, Mississippi. The DEEP south. 😅 People from the south are more laid back, and they don't talk all fast and high-strung like people from the big cities or up north do. 😂

But other than those MINOR things, his adult voice really hasn't changed that much y'all lol. 😅

[thegreatbuttoneer]

MEET THE ARTIST:

Name?

Audrey! Or Max, depending who you ask.

Age?

I’m currently 15, but I’ve been mistaken for an adult more times than I can count.

Hobbies?

Art, evidently, writing poems or small blurbs, and I enjoy reading and baking as well.

Family?

Aside from my mom, dad, and stepdad, I’m the oldest of four kids.

Current shows/Fandoms?

Smiling Friends

Cookie Run Kingdom

Derry Girls

RANDOM INFO:

My best and favourite subjects are Art, English, Social Studies, Biology, and Ancient History.

I’ll listen to basically anything, but my favourite songs right now are

Glitterati (Kid Kapichi)

Wrote Down (Feyde)

Dog Nightmare (Jack Stauber)

Milk and Honey (Rare Americans)

and,

Are ‘Friends’ Electric? (Gary Numan, Tubeway Army)

I’m a chaotic mix of grunge and weirdcore. Evidently

My favourite symbols are skeletons, owls, and jesters

Specifically blue and black jesters (explained in different post)

I’m a 5 foot 8’ realist (not optimistic nor pessimistic, thank you)

My favourite short story is “Diary of a Madman” by Nikolai Gogol

My favourite novel is literally anything by Neil Gaiman (though I have a specific soft spot for The Graveyard Book)

I’m a creepy ass motherfucker and have been referred to as “Teen Wolf if it was one person”

My friends think I’m clinically insane

They might be correct.

My favourite art exhibit is “Strange Birds” by Graeme Patterson, currently located in the Beaverbrook Museum of Art

My favourite colour is green!

[supernaturally-yours]

I Guess That Love Wasn't Enough

Rated: Fiction K - English - Romance/Fantasy - Zuko, Katara - Words: 1,080

Summary: For Zutara Week 2012 Day Six Faded. Zuko has the life he's always wanted. Zuko/Katara youtube.com/watch?va2RA0vsZXf8 "Hey, she was so easy to love. But wait, I guess that love wasn't enough"

A/N Note: This story is for Zutara Week 2012 Day 6 Fade. I got this idea from this song... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a2RA0vsZXf8 Originally posted on fanfiction.net here. 

Fade—[feyd] verb, fad·ed, fad·ing, noun verb (used without object) to disappear or die gradually

"Zuko!" Katara screamed, running towards him. She flipped him onto his back and immediately began to heal him. The blue glow faded away as Zuko opened his eyes. "Thank you Katara," he whispered in slight pain. Katara, with tears streaming down her face, smiled at him and threw herself at him arms wrapping around his neck in a tight embrace. After a while, she reluctantly pulled away from him.

Amber met blue as she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. Zuko's eyes widened in shock and he tensed, but Katara's lips against his felt right and he soon relaxed, kissing her passionately.

{2 Weeks Later}

"Keep your eyes closed Katara," Zuko whispered in her ear. "Zuko, I came with you to the Earth Kingdom to visit your uncle and see his tea shop. Not to be kidnapped," Katara sighed exasperatedly.

She felt him move away from her and her hand fell from his to her side. "Don't open your eyes yet." She heard the hiss of flames as they left his hands and curiosity struck her, making her want to open her eyes. She shut them tighter, her nose crinkling.

Zuko walked back towards her his palms sweating. This was it. The moment. Wiping his hands on his clothes Zuko then pulled the small box from his pocket and preceded to go down on one knee. Opening the box he said, "Open your eyes, Katara."

Opening her eyes Katara gasped in surprise. The first thing she saw was Zuko on one knee. Then the box, and the betrothal necklace nestled among the blue satin. Blue met amber and placed her hand upon his scar. "Yes."

{2 Months Later}

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride." Amber met blue as the veil was lifted. Zuko bent down and kissed her as guests cheered. "May I present Fire Lord Zuko and his new wife Fire Lady Katara!"

The crowd applauded and cheered as their newly wedded rulers stepped onto the dais. Katara grabbed Zuko's hand and he smiled down lovingly at her. He yanked on their joined hands making Katara spin into his arms. He titled her back and planted a passionate kiss upon his lips.

{2 Years Later}

"Zuko!" Katara shouted. He ran into their bedroom, "What Katara? What's happened?" She grimaced in pain, "My water broke." He stood there in shock and she could see he was struggling to comprehend what was happening. "I'm going to be a dad. It's time." He rushed to her side and grabbed onto her arm. "Let's get you back into bed and I'll call the midwife," he stated calmly while escorting her back to her side of the bed. "Thank you, Zuko." He propped the pillows up around her and she leaned back. He kissed her forehead, "I'll be right back," he whispered.

{2 Hours Later}

"Okay, My Lady it's time to start pushing. Fire Lord Zuko you'll have to wait outside." Zuko nodded and went to Katara's side. He kissed her forehead and she squeezed his hand. Momentarily distracted, she smiled at him. He gave her hand one last squeeze and left the room.

Outside the room, all Zuko could hear were Katara's screams. Each time she screamed he would flinch. He could hardly believe that they used to be enemies. The girl he once called "water peasant," was now a beautiful woman he called his wife. Many things changed once he realized his destiny was to help the Avatar and not capture him. He remembered the struggle he had trying to get Katara to trust him and when confronting her about it the words she had thrown back at him had cut him like a knife. "I was the first one to trust you. Remember? Back in Ba­Sing­Se!" How far they had come since then. He couldn't imagine life without her by his side. He'd do anything for her. He loved her deeply and he knew she felt the same way about him.

Finally after 20 minutes, of pacing back and forth down the palace hallway, he no longer heard her screams. He waited with bated breath for the door to open so he could see her and their child. Hearing the door open he turned and came face to face with the midwife, who reminded him of Katara's grandmother, "You may come in now Fire Lord." He smiled back at the midwife and entered the room cautiously. He went to the foot of the bed and stared at Katara.

He felt arms wrap themselves around his waist and lips pressed to his temple. Katara glanced up and smiled at him from her place at the head of the bed. She held the baby out in her arms, "Do you want to meet your—"

"Zuko, wake up!" He groggily opened his eyes. Turning over, Mai smiled at him and placed her hand over his scar. "Are you okay? You were crying in your sleep. Was it a nightmare about your mother?" she whispered. Zuko pulled Mai into his arms tighter, "No. It was only just a dream." Her hand still on his scar, she asked him timidly, "Do you want to talk about it?" Amber met amber. "I don't remember what it was about." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Mai's. His stomach clenched and something felt wrong, but he shook off the feeling.

"I love you Zuko," Mai stroked his scar and then dropped her hand to the bed. "Me too," he whispered back as she closed her eyes. 

[Air Temple Island]

Katara sat up and gasped for air. "Katara, what's wrong?" Aang asked worriedly. Blue met gray. "Nothing Aang. It was only just a dream." Aang looked at her suspiciously before laying back down and turning over.

Katara got up and walked to the window. "It was a boy Zuko," she whispered as tears streamed down her face. She walked back to bed and climbed in and once more let sleep consume her.

The next morning the dreams had faded into nothing more but a memory long forgotten.

[andvalsung]

13-20

“13. Siblings”

Three. They’re cool, I guess

“14. First car”

I don’t have a car yet, but I remember the first family car when we came to America. My dad bought it bc our family friend couldn’t drive us everywhere all the time and my mom was heavily pregnant. Anyway, father bought the car, and we took our in laws for a drive and my aunt in law didn’t wear a seatbelt and it made me nervous the whole time but everyone’s okay. We still have the car and it’s breaks squeal every time you hit it.

“15. On a day like today, you would…”

Go for a walk. I miss walking outside. But I didn’t bc I still have a crutch.

“16. The last book you read”

Dune by Frank Herbert. Still reading it. I want Feyd-Rautha to be a girl.

“17. The last message you sent/received”

‘Didcha go through Chegg?’

“18. Are you usually hot or cold?”

Cold. I complain more about the heat, but it’s more obvious when I’m cold.

Can I skip 19. Thanks.

“20. Day or Night and why”

Day. I feel guilty being more active in the night because everyone’s not doing anything.

[sebastianswallows]

I adored the hell out of your Feyd/girl!dad headcannons because it wasn't only well written, but yoy actually used little Marie as the inspiation and main character to Feyd. But I have one question, wgen you wrote that Margot was to go to Ksitain to answer for her crimes, do you propose that she SA' ed Feyd as you may have interpreted it from the movie, because I felt that Feyd was very willing even with being under her BG influence. As one commenter wrote, "Margot may had led Feyd to water, but he was alredy thirsty and was willing to drink,". I love hearing different opions on their interaction, so it helps me understand more fully. But I reakky do enjoy Feyd and Margot together cayse they had a lot of chemistry.

Hello! Thank you for your kind words, I'm glad you liked it! 🖤

When I was coming up with a "plot" for the headcanons (because I can never seem to just write ideas, I always have to have some longwinded narrative to it), I initially thought that Feyd would just kill Margot. And then I decided that he would very deliberately not do it in front of Marie, as it would traumatise her and it would be too much of a dick move, even for him. But then as I was writing the idea came that they'd just be upfront about what Margot did and have her tried and sentenced. That was the gentler option. Because leaving Margot alive and free would just be a danger to him at this point. He wouldn't risk her trying to get Marie back.

Now, as to whether it really was sexual assault, yeah. Rape, even.

I don't really go by the movie version when I write, mind you, I go by the books. And in the book, Feyd is indeed attracted to Margot, he even offers to dedicate his kill in the arena to her (which she rejects), although he's also slightly intimidated by her. He's just turning 17, by the way (a fact which might get lost since he always seems to be played by 32 year old actors lol). But even if he's attracted, the fact that Margot uses Bene Gesserit mind tricks on him makes it non-consensual. This aspect is more clear in the movie, because there's no scene in the book of them being alone together.

What's not in the movie, however, is that while they're having sex Margot imprints Feyd with a phrase (a meaningless prana-bindu word, specifically "uroshnor") which is meant to paralyse him temporarily if he should hear it again. It becomes relevant before Feyd's duel with Paul because Jessica, being able to tell from how Feyd walks that he's been imprinted, advises Paul to use this word if he begins to lose the fight. Paul outright refuses because he wants an "honourable" win, and it's in fact his visible, dramatic struggle over not speaking this word that confuses Feyd and gives Paul the chance to stab and kill him.

So clearly there were a lot of mind tricks involved between Margot and Feyd, and even though he would have slept with her consensually, this hypothetical scenario could not be proven in court. The only thing that can be proven is that she manipulated Feyd, and imprinted him with a word that could paralyse which, obviously, can be fatal in certain situations.

So I guess this was my version of mercy for Margot, because yeah, originally I thought Feyd would just kill her 😂 But I figured he'd be a bit more forgiving for Marie's sake.

[kasagia]

Well, I scream when I see a comment/reblog from you, so you could say we're even 🤣🤣🩵🖤🖤🖤🖤🩵

Yeah, I remember you yelling at me for what I did to him when I posted the sneak peek xDD But as you can see, it was all for a reason!! (Shame on you for daring to doubt me xD *joking*)

I also wanted to have someone who would love me with a love as crazy as Feyd. *unite in pain* xDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Of course Feyd is proud, after all, who showed her all these Harkonnen ways? There is no better teacher than him.

After Dune 2, I can't look at Paul. Just not. That's why I was so happy writing this whole piece where he dies… which should probably be a bad sign for my mental health, but whatever xD

FEYD’s DREAM IS MY NEW ROMAN EMPIRE 💗

I laughed so much here 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 Love you!! 🖤🖤🖤🖤 But I must admit that this is probably my favorite scene that I wrote for Right Hand. (Well, maybe the reader's declaration of love is competing for that 1st spot with that 😅🙈)

Yeeeah! Feyd deserves as much softness as possible. The epilogue will be filled with this, so you can mentally prepare for it. xD

I have already said more than once that I was afraid that I was making Feyd a little too soft for the reader and I was afraid that I would overdo it with this character development, but I think that in the end we have a perfectly balanced version of the soft and psychopathic Feyd 😁😁

Him acting all hurt and angry but STILL HE CATCHED HER 😭😭😭😭 and was so gentle with her.

Oh yes! This is also one of my favorites I've written! That despite what she had done, he would still always be there for her and she for him. Till the end of times or something like that 😅🙈

I loved how the roles reversed in that part this was all feyd being feral for her before and him acting like her trying to be serious, I am ABSOLUTELY IN LOVE 💗

Specially intended. The girl had to show him exactly how important he was to her. After all, the boy lived a month in uncertainty, taking care of her.

Omg it was so hot, soooo very them but tender at the same time, it was just perfection, such a beautiful scene and I’m so happy we got interrupted the previous times bc I’m sure it wouldn’t have been like it was here, soooo thank you for giving us this scene now when the time was right for them 💗💗💗💗💗

YEAH! Thank you! That's exactly what I was thinking! If they had done it earlier, it would have been more focused on passion and desire, but here it was more about feelings, longing for the other, closeness and so on.

Now this I WAS NOT EXPECTING, omfg, KATERINA IS COMING PEOPLE, he is going to be such a good dad, I loveeeee the fact he dreamt of her and Feydor already, I love that he already loves his family so much, HES TOTALLY A girls DADDY, can you imagine him being so precious and playing with Katerina, like playing with dolls, having tea parties, dressing up, she being his little princess, HIS LITTLE WARRIOR GIRL, oh he’s gonna be soooooo 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗 and then when his baby boy gets home doing everything again for him 😍💗💗💗💗💗

I can only comment on it with one word: YES.

’m sooooo soooooooo in love, this story was FUCKING PERFECTION DARLING, I’m amazed of the world you built, the characters, the relationships, ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING, this is going to be one of my favorite FEYD stories EVEEEEEER. This takes all stars all the awards, everything absolutely amazing and stunning, loved the drama, the betrayal, the sexiness, the feelings, the plot, the LOVE 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗 Thank you thank you thank you THANK YOU for writing this and sharing it with us mere mortals 😭💗 it was such a fun and lovely adventure, IT WAS ALL WORTH IT, I did doubt you for a little bit when the betrayal took place but I had faith it was going to be ok at the end and it was SPECTACULAR.

Ahem… I'm crying here!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! THANK YOU! 🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵

I just hope you find the epilogue as wonderful and that you will enjoy my new project for Feyd at least half as much as Right Hand (if you decide to stick around for a while longer 😅🙈).

By the way, I can't believe that this is (close to) the end. 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 I remember like yesterday, when I came back from Dune 2 and I was wondering if I could start writing for this handsome, cunning, bald, hot psychopath, or if I was going too much into a fangirling xDDDDDD

Literally me every time I see your long comment about a chapter:

Again (hopefully not for the last time) thank you so much, sweetheart!! 🩵🖤🩵🩵🖤🩵🩵🖤🩵🩵🖤🩵🩵🖤🩵🩵🖤🩵🩵🖤🩵🩵🖤🩵🩵🖤🩵🩵🖤🖤🩵🖤🖤🩵🖤🖤🩵🖤🖤🩵🖤🖤🩵🖤🖤🩵🖤🖤🩵🖤🖤🩵🖤🖤🩵🖤

Right Hand VI

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: You're tired of listening to others and of being afraid of prophecies that don't make sense and that were made up by someone else. Your present belonged only to you. And hell knows, you're going to take your future too. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; I was listening to 'Down Bad' by Taylor and I used quotes from a few of them; TEXT NOT CHECKED - I' barely managed to write it on time' I've just ended it and wanted to post it for you, since you are waiting for it so long; it took me ages but I hope you will like it; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART V ~•♤♤♤•~ Epilogue ~•♤♤♤•~

Feyd rarely felt pain he didn't like. The years spent on Giedi Prime—or rather, years of enduring his uncle's methods of making him a true Harkonnen, his worthy successor—made Feyd love pain. He found pleasure in it—something he had to learn if he wanted to survive.

But it didn't bring him any satisfaction or pleasure when you pierced his chest with one of his swords. He feels pure pain. Anger, betrayal, and hurt.

He hates the way he falls limply to his knees in front of you. He hates that he still looks at you like you're a saint. He hates that he hopes you'll at least look him in the eyes, as if that would bring him some kind of salvation. He hates how lost he feels now and how he's slowly losing awareness of his surroundings. He hates that even though you stabbed him, all he can do is stare at you, clinging to the sight of you more than to his life.

"This will be the beginning of a wonderful alliance, Lady Y/N."

He feels you unhook your poisoned dagger from his arm. Feyd thinks you're doing it to finish him off. Poetically kill him with the weapon he gave you. He closes his eyes and waits for the final stab or throat slit. But nothing like that happens. He doesn't have the strength to turn around and see exactly what you're doing, but your words alone are enough for him to imagine the scene that is happening behind him.

"I may not be a Harkonnen, but I've picked up a few of their habits. If you want an agreement between us, show me your hand." After your words, he can hear a hiss from Atreides when you plunge the dagger into your joined hands, piercing them both through.

Feyd would have laughed mockingly if he hadn't spent all his energy on breathing slowly. He remembered explaining to you how contracts, such as arranged marriages, were sealed on Giedi Prime. The Harkonnens shook hands and pierced them with swords, thus signing a blood pact. This also applied to marriages and other such things. Blood bound them stronger than any words or signatures on paper. He cursed himself for the fact that, seeing your scared face at his words, he withdrew from this idea and decided to make a verbal agreement between you. He should be the one to bind you with his blood, not Atreides.

The steel in his body rubs against his lower ribs, but it does not damage any major organs. He tries to keep the sword in the exact same position you stuck it in, but he feels like he's going to faint from all the pain, the blood, and the fear for you that he feels now.

You made him so weak that even after you stabbed him, all he could think about was your safety and your well-being. Every shaky breath he took, every slow beat of his heart as he fought to stay conscious—it was all for you.

He just hoped like hell that you weren't lying a few moments ago, that this would all turn out to be just one of your games, and that you would soon end Atreides' life. But it's not like that.

"Let this blood be a symbol of our union." Your sweet, dangerous whisper reaches Feyd's ears.

He's raging with powerlessness and anger. That Atreides dog didn't deserve to mix his blood with yours. Only Feyd should be able to do this. Only his black blood should merge with your crimson, staining your joined hands as you swore allegiance to each other. His heart hurts more than the wound you gave him as he imagine how you and this desert rat are now echanging each other's blood.

If he hadn't been placed in such a vulnerable state by you, he would have ripped Atreides' heart out with his bare hands for daring to mix his blood with yours. A cold shiver runs down his spine at the thought of Atreides connecting with you in yet another way. A way Feyd was robbed too many times.

He tries to get up, but he doesn't have enough strength. All he can do is place his hands on the floor, trying to take the weight off his torso. The blade scratching his flesh bothers him much less than the fact that Atreides has the nerve to touch you or that you're blatantly ignoring him while playing whatever game you're playing right now.

"Leave him to me. I want… to repay him for all these years of fulfilling his wishes." The cool, composed tone of your voice that you used many times when the two of you dealt with inconvenient prisoners did nothing to inspire his hope or quench his rage.

You really betrayed him. You, of all people. How stupid and naive he was to believe you. He should have killed you the moment his eyes met yours. You were an intruder. A spy in disguise. His bittersweet end.

The door slams shut behind Atreides. Feyd hears your footsteps, the sand from your soles falling back onto the ground—the same ground where his black, thick blood is now flowing. You walk over to him; if he could focus enough, he would see the toes of your shoes.

You kneel in front of him, gently tugging on his head, causing him to rest on your shoulder. He can smell your blood dripping from your hand. You stain his head with it. Under any other circumstances, he would have appreciated how close you were to him, but now, with the sword rubbing uncomfortably against his insides, your touch doesn't bring any comfort at all. Even your lips pressed against his forehead cannot calm the volcano of emotions boiling inside him. But he is helpless. He is unable to do anything; he is completely surrendered to your grace. It wouldn't bother him a few hours ago. Now he hated it.

"I'm sorry." You whisper, then use the voice on him to tell him to fall asleep. When he drifts off to sleep at your command, he is already planning how he will take revenge on you. And hell knows you're going to pay him for it.

"He'll be furious." One of your spies comments as she helps you carry Feyd's body out of the sietch.

Inessa was the only Harkonnen woman you could reasonably trust. She's done your dirty work many times, but... never THIS. You somewhat understood her concerns, but currently, when you both had to carry Feyd through the Fremen corridors and go unnoticed, you didn't necessarily approve of it.

"I am aware." You reply, looking around. Inessa and you somehow patched up Feyd's wound. Now you had to either drag him to the surface yourself and hope that someone would find him in the chaos of the fight or leave him with some of his soldiers.

You didn't like any of these ideas. But you had to do what you planned if you wanted to regain your freedom, even if it meant that Feyd would hate you for it for infinity.

"Fucking angry. I'm serious, Y/N." Inessa warns you again. You roll your eyes at her, for a Harkonnen she was very fearful.

You remember how her hands were shaking a few minutes ago as you both stitched up your new Baron. It was a makeshift dressing and still required treatment by a doctor, but it was enough to get Feyd to the ship and back to base. During this time, you will take care of everything here. You hope that by the time he wakes up, you will have finished what you set out to do. Otherwise, you don't see your future well.

"Just get him out of here." You grumble, turning into a side corridor, and encounter Harkonnen soldiers fighting the Fremen as they kill the last of them, their eyes shifting to the two of you. You nod at them. Without a word, they approach you and take Feyd from you. Inessa looks at you, worried.

"What if he wakes up?"

"You stuffed him with painkillers, and I ordered him to sleep. He won't get up until you're back on the ship." The woman sighs and shakes her head, looking at you intently as you speak.

"Y/N. You've had some… creatively stupid ideas, but this one is the worst of them all. He won't give up. You know it. So why are you doing this?" She asks, taking you off guard for a moment.

She was right. You could have returned to the ship with them, gone back to the safety of Giedi Prime, and let Feyd fight Paul alone. You could have let go and stopped participating in a war that wasn't yours. But at what cost? You've been obeying someone all your life. Bene Gesserit. Prophecies. Feyd. It's finally time for you to deal the cards. And you will do it. In your and Feyd's best interests. You just hoped that he could… forgive you, or see the reasoning behind your actions.

"For myself. For my freedom. For us. This is the only way to end the matter of Atreides, Fremen, and Arrakis. The only effective way."

"Don't you know it yet? You will never be free. We women will never enjoy men's freedom. There will always be someone to whom you must submit. You can't change your fate."

"Then I'd rather die trying." You say, turning on your heel. You don't look back to see her reaction to your words. You had too little time.

The burning sensation on your hand only reminded you of running out of it. The dagger that Feyd gave you must have also had an effect on Atreides. You don't know how advanced he is in Bene Gesserit teachings, so you had to hurry before he detected the poison in his body. Or, God forbid, neutralise it.

You wipe your sweating forehead with the sleeve of your hand as your body begins to fight the poison slowly accumulating in your body. The antidote rested safely in a small syringe hidden in the handle of the dagger you kept strapped to your thigh. You just had to use it when the time was right.

You hope you will get everything done before you die.

You wander through the corridors without knowing where you are. You just have a feeling in the back of your head about where you should go. Besides, the escaping Harkonnens kind of showed you the way into the sietch.

Your hands are shaking as you slowly approach the main room—the one where the Fremen usually gather for large meetings and in case of an attack. Still, you thank Feyd for forcing you to attend the Harkonenn war meetings. At least now you are more familiar with the location of the Fremen's rooms and methods.

The closer you get to the main hall, the more Fremen women push past you, and you feel a little more confident walking through the crowd with them, confident that they are leading you to your place of harm in case of an attack. Even though the Harkonnen were already retreating from the area, some of them were still fighting the Fremen, who craved the blood on their swords and didn't let them just leave. You can only imagine the Feyd's wrath that they will have to face. His men didn't come... fully armed. Apparently it was supposed to be a quick action—get in and out with you, then launch a full attack and invasion.

You know that once he wakes up and heals up a bit, he's going to paint these halls with blood before he burns them to the ground.

Entering the main room, you immediately take a seat by the wall, watching all the Fremen gathering, carefully looking for Atreides among them. He probably had to make sure they "cleared" the halls from the Harkonnens. It makes you sick to think of them bragging about this as a victory over the Harkonnens. It makes you wish you had a little bomb with you...

"Are you already hiding in the shadows?" You shiver when you hear him whisper in your ear. You haven't learned to recognise his steps yet. They were irregular, different, and hard to detect and remember—as if he were constantly moving through the sand like a feather.

"The quicker I adapt, the better, right?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him in challenge. He shakes his head in amusement and watches the Fremen gather with you. It's strange that somehow no one has noticed him yet.

"I'm starting to understand why my cousin kept you so close to him."

"Cousin?" You ask in shock, turning your head towards him so you can look at him. This time he ignores you, not shifting his gaze from the Fremen.

"A little surprise. Maybe we all have a bit of Harkonnen in us after all?" He banters without giving you any of his attention. You snort indignantly, looking at the gathering people again.

"You look tired." You comment, wanting to tease him. You can barely keep yourself from stabbing him with your poisoned dagger a few times. But since he was talking to you so... carelessly, it meant he couldn't detect the poison. Good for you.

"I always am. I will rest when I sit peacefully on the imperial throne."

You would laugh at him if you could. He might easily sit on the emperor's throne, but he wouldn't be able to hold power over all the families for long. Certainly not if you and Feyd had anything to say about it.

Your heart clenches as you remember the moment you stabbed him. You had to. There was no other way to get rid of him long enough for you to take care of everything here. Also, he wouldn't allow you to do that if he knew what you were up to. Besides, if you didn't stab him, Atreides and he would get into a fight. Unfortunately, you weren't that confident in Feyd's abilities. He would be in a state of distraction if your well-being was at stake.

Besides, Atreides' words convinced you of this decision more than anything else.

More than one great king fell under the intrigue of a lesser man.

If there was anything you could praise about Paul Atreides, it was his cunning. And you were sure that if Atreides was somehow going to defeat Feyd, it would be through intrigue and trickery. And then you weren't ready to save your baron. So you had to use drastic measures to get him out and allow yourself to function fully. You couldn't give Atreides any leverage or advantage over you. You certainly couldn't reveal what a weakness Feyd was to you.

"Hmm… you have to survive first." You answered thoughtfully. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him turn his head to look at you. His intense, analysing gaze makes you burn as you have to endure his unwanted attention.

"With such a talented Bene Gesserit as MY right hand? I have not the slightest doubt. You proved your loyalty by killing my cousin. I have no doubt that you are capable of great things. However... this sudden change of sides is shocking, I must admit."

"Why? Because I chose something better for myself? It was the same with Feyd. I could either stay among the Bene Gesserit and hope they wouldn't send me to breed with anyone, or I could take matters into my own hands. And I don't like blindly entrusting my fate to someone else, Atreides."

"I see... you look good with independence, Harkonnen witch, but don't forget who you answer to."

"Of course, Fremen messiah." The nickname you give him makes me chuckle. He reaches up and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You look carefully at his bandaged hand, which you pierced with a dagger.

You find yourself comparing his hands to Feyd's. Harkonnen's hands were hard, rough, trained from years of using all kinds of weapons. Atrdida's hands were smoother, less stained by effort. Another difference between them was that Feyd would never let anyone bandage the wound you gave him. He would rather wear them proudly until the wound heals itself. You should think it's sick, but years spent by his side have taught you… to appreciate such gestures. Maybe you really had a completely different perception of normality?

Atreides' fingers trace your jaw, caressing it gently. You look into his eyes and immediately see the familiar gleam of audacity in them. He looked at you like you were a prize—a nice thing that he managed to take from his enemy, which he can now put on his bedside table and look at to remember his victory. Under any other circumstances, you would have bitten his fingers off, but unfortunately, you had to behave. But only for a moment longer.

"What do you think you're doing?" An angry, cold female voice echoes behind you. Before you know it, you're being pushed sideways against the wall. A dagger at your throat. You act automatically. You attack a woman, disarm her, and push her against a wall. But before you can put a dagger at her throat yourself, Atreides steps between you.

"What's necessary, Chani. I would suggest you not attack my guest." The woman glares at him, and for a moment, you think she's going to attack him or spit on him. Then her anger shifts to you.

"This Harkonnen witch has killed more of our people than any of them. She should be dead, not taken in as a guest." She growls furiously, giving you a distrustful, mad look. You understand her perfectly. If you were in her place, you would do the same. Only Feyd, unlike Atreides, couldn't stop you from hurting your rival.

"It's not up to you to decide her fate."

Chani gives the two of you one last hateful glare and pushes past Atreides, moving into the crowd, away from the two of you. You look at the woman carefully, analysing her gait and posture. Similar to Atreides. So you found his teacher.

"Your…"

"Concubine." He finishes, thus answering your question. You raise an eyebrow at him in surprise.

"I see."

"Jealous?" This time, you can't help but snort in amusement, giggling at his absurd question.

"I would sonner be jealous of a sandworm than of you. What is bewteen us is just an agreement. Don't forget that, Atreides."

"That's why I like you. Give me a moment. We'll talk later. Don't go anywhere. I will find you."

He puts his hand on your shoulder. You assume he thinks it's a gesture of reassurance, but it's not for you. You anxiously wait for him to move away from you so he can speak to the crowd of Fremen.

You shiver as you briefly make eye contact with Chani, who is standing at the other end of the room. She's still seething with rage. You're not entirely sure why she's so devoted to Atreides, but after thinking about it longer, you realise what her reason is for being so protective over him. You would probably do the same things for Feyd as she did for Paul. However, you would be... more ruthless towards your rival. You wave to the woman, smirking. She looks away from you, focusing her gaze on Atreides.

You study him as well, carefully observing him as he speaks to the Fremen. He is imperious and powerful, but also arrogant and conceited. His overconfidence that he acquired among the Fremen—the belief that he was the chosen one—will lead to his death. You will lead him to death. Otherwise, no one will stand a chance against him. He had one significant thing that could ensure his victory: a huge crowd of people who blindly believed that he would bring them salvation if they obediently followed his every request.

And maybe you would feel sorry for these people and try to help them if your own freedom and future weren't on the line.

You play with the handle of your dagger. You press a small button. A small ampoule with a needle falls into your hand. You hiss, injecting the contents of the ampoule into your arm.

Atreides was right. - You think, listening carefully to the man's speech to the crowd. - More than one great king fell under the intrigue of a lesser man.

The faint hum of the ship's engine gives Feyd a clear indication of where he is. He opens his eyes and looks around the room. He's in the bedroom of one of Harkonnen's ships. He sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, and looks at his bare chest. He furrows his hairless eyebrows in surprise when he sees no wound or bandage—just a tiny, sealed scar in the area where you pierced him with the sword.

"Where are you going?" Your quiet, protesting whisper makes him freeze. After a while, he feels your warm hands on his shoulders as you pull him back into the soft sheets and into your arms. You cuddle up to him, wrapping your arms around him and burying your head in the crook of his neck. "Stay. We still have a lot of time before we land on Lankiveil, so you can spend it in bed with your wife. I doubt we'll find a moment of peace for ourselves when our little Na-Baron demands swimming lessons from you and a tour around the new planet, so use this little moment of peace."

Feyd's heart skips a beat when he feels your lips brushing on the skin of his neck and hears you calling yourself his wife. He allows himself to drown in the warmth of your body and the feeling of your gentle touch on his skin. He buries his nose in your hair, shuddering slightly as you place small kisses on his neck and lick his skin, teasing him. However, one thing was still bothering him…

"Little Na-Baron?" He asks, confused, when you lazily stroke his head with your fingers, drawing patterns on its pale skin.

"Our son. I pleased you so well last night that you forgot about our son, or are you just not awake yet, darling?" You ask him teasingly, opening your eyes to look at him for the first time.

Feyd is speechless when he sees the spark of malice in your eyes and the beautiful smile you give him. Your beauty, the calmness with which you lie curled on his chest—as if it were the most normal thing you do every day—and the strange warmth that spreads across his chest because of it make him lose his ability to speak.

You giggle, pulling him closer to you and placing a tender, gentle kiss on his lips. You moan, enjoying the feeling of his plush lips, sucking on his bottom lip as you claim him as yours. Feyd feels himself starting to harden just from the feeling of your lips on his and the teasing movements of your fingers around his nipples.

"I…" He tries to speak, but then he hears the baby's soft whimpering. He tenses up, unaccustomed to any interaction with children.

His gaze goes from the cradle placed in the corner of the room to you in pure panic, as he has no idea what to do with the crying baby. But you don't seem to care about the baby crying as much as he does. You groan in protest and pull away from him, burying your face in the pillow.

"Mhm... go to her, it's your turn." You mumble, not giving him a glance, as you hug the pillow instead of him. He starts to be a little jealous, but that feeling fades away, replaced by panic as the baby's cries intensify.

"Now you're letting me go?" He asks, hoping you'll change your mind and take care of the crying demon in the cradle yourself.

"I simply found a better use for you elsewhere." He huffs, leaning towards you and ruffling your hair. You punch him in the chest and force him out of bed. He rolls his eyes at you and turns hesitantly towards the crib.

He feels his legs shaking and his heart beating with nervousness. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is stressed and nervous by a crying baby in a cradle. He breathes deeply as he stands over the cradle.

His world stops when his eyes meet small irises that are a similar shade of blue to his. And his heart stops when he sees a little copy of you. Your child is undoubtedly a reflection of you. She only has his eyes, but the colour of her skin and hair, the shape of her nose, mouth, and eyes are all you. Feyd's heart pounds as he stares at the small miracle before him. Suddenly, the sounds reach him again. Panicked, he takes the baby gently, making sure not to accidentally hurt her, and in a few quick steps, he is by your side again.

"I… I think it is hungry." He says, reaching out towards you to hand the baby to you as quickly as possible.

"Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, did you just call our daughter it?" You ask angrily, sitting on the bed and looking at him furious. You sigh at his helpless expression and take your daughter from him. "Forgive daddy, Katerina. He doesn't usually behave like this." You mumble sweetly to the baby, trying to calm her down.

Miraculously, because Feyd can't call it anything else, you manage to calm down the baby in your embrace, her little lips pursing in dissatisfaction as she waits for you to feed her. Feyd swears she makes the exact same face you do when you're impatient or angry. His heart melts even more at the image in front of him.

Feyd sits on the edge of the bed, watching in fascination as you feed your baby. This scene seems... unreal to him. He had never experienced anything like this before—the feelings of warmth, safety, and boundless love and devotion that appear in him when he looks at the two of you.

He may have had vague memories of his mother singing bedtime lullabies to him and Rabban, but... he had never felt the way he did with you and your daughter. He had never felt that disarming feeling of home that made him allow himself to become vulnerable for the first time in many years.

He uncertainly reaches towards the child and gently strokes his daughter's head. The colour of her hair is identical to yours. Feyd's lips form involuntarily in a smile when the child reaches her little hand to his fingers, tightening his fist firmly. As she gently moves his hand away from her head, she does not let her grip on his fingers loosen. She was strong for a baby. She certainly had a warrior nature inherited from both of you. Feyd couldn't wait to train her...

He found himself thinking that all he wanted was to curl up in this bed with you and hold you safely in his arms before he would be brutally torn from this beautiful dream or vision.

He sits on the bed, looking at the two of you, when suddenly the bedroom door opens. The thud of small feet on the metal floor echoes around the room, and that's all the warning Feyd gets before the little white-haired boy lunges at him.

"Dad! Dad! We'll be there soon! I can't wait. Uncle Rabban told me that there are huge oceans that can swallow our ships if we land wrong! Is it true?" Asks the child, sitting on his lap and holding him tightly.

Feyd hesitantly wraps his arms around the boy, making sure he doesn't accidentally fall from his lap to the floor. His gaze quickly shifts to you in utter confusion. Rabban as a caring, mischievous uncle? What the hell was that supposed to be?

"Your uncle has a habit of distorting some facts, Feydor. I assure you we'll be fine. And Lankiveil is wonderful, isn't it, honey?" You ask Feyd, resting Katerina on your shoulder and making sure she burps.

"Yes. It is beautiful." He says, unconsciously running a hand through his son's hair as he looks at the three of you, unable to get over the shock and awe.

"I want a hug." Your son demands. You laugh as you pull him closer to you. When you see that Feyd isn't moving to join you all, you grab his hand and gently guide him back to the soft pillows. You lie there curled up, you with Katerina on your chest, Feydor between you and him as you wrap your arms around each other.

His son mutters something to his sister, but Feyd doesn't hear him. All he can do is stare at the three of you in amazement.

"Now sleep. Both of you. I don't want to hear any grumpy complaints about not getting enough sleep, okay, my boys?"

'It only happened once." Feydor mumbles, manoeuvring your and Feyd's hands to hug him tightly. "Besides, Dad was whining worse than me."

"I have no doubt that was the case. Your dad is a terribly fussy and grumpy man." You laugh and lean in to place a quick kiss on Feyd's lips. He strokes your waist, moving closer to you and your son as baby Katerina mumbles something in a language only she knows.

Feyd can only watch tenderly as his little family falls asleep, curled up in each other's arms. And he believes that this is the best possible future that can await him. He doesn't want the throne. He doesn't want to become emperor. He just wants to be able to fall asleep and wake up with you in his arms and your children running around. It's all he dreams about.

The younger Feyd would certainly laugh at him and mock him for such a trivial goal he had set for himself, but what more could he want with the title of baron and you by his side?

He saw perfectly well how the lives of his uncle and emperor turned out and knew the tragic fate of great people in power who decided to devote their entire lives to achieving the greatest possible influence. Feyd didn't want to follow in their footsteps. He wanted you. He realised, with horror, that this was enough for him—the vision or dream he had now was his ideal future.

"I love you." He whispers to your sleeping form before the darkness overwhelms him again.

He wakes up again on the ship, in the same room, and on the same bed. The difference is that your warm body is not pressed against his, and the throbbing pain from his stomach spreads uncomfortably throughout his body.

He groans, sitting on the bed and looking around. His hairless eyebrows wrinkle when he sees one of your spies with him. He automatically grabs the hidden knife and attacks your spy before she notices that he woke up.

"My Lord Baron, I can explain…" The woman says this as he presses the blade against her chest. She stops talking when he cuts off her access to the air by tightening his grip on her neck.

"Where is my right hand?" He growls, sticking to the remains of his control when he refrains from killing her. However, he does not stop himself from making a light cut on your spy's neck. Years of experience have proved that people were more willing to talk after he took some blood from them.

"It really wasn't my idea. She decided so. She knew that you would not let her do what she was planning, so she had to somehow... get rid of you from there, my lord Baron."

"Hm... that sounds like her, but... I would like to hear more about that plan of her. Say something useful and I might even spare your life." Feyd purrs, lazily dragging the blade down her neck to her collarbone, making a small cut.

He preferred not to hurt your toy too much. He didn't know how you would react to the loss of this particular spy. She must have been someone you trusted to entrust him to her.

But that didn't mean that Feyd couldn't land his anger at you on her for leaving him behind and completely unaware of your actions.

"Long ago, the Bene Gesserit had only one reverend mother. Their order was small then, but it was developing well. A certain ritual was invented to ensure that the most powerful of them was in power. It… is about the struggle of life forces. I don't know exactly how it's done, but… lady Y/N said that they both have to die for one of them to survive. She… she knew you wouldn't let her, so she had to make you leave that rat's nest so she could get the job done." A cold shiver runs down Feyd's spine. He needs a moment to compose himself and process your spy's words before he speaks again.

"They both have to die? What do you mean?" He asks, unconsciously tightening his already painful grip on the woman. His hand, the one holding the dagger, trembles slightly as he impatiently stares at her, waiting for an answer.

"I... they have to... they... their hearts stop beating and... the one who is stronger and has more life energy takes over the other's powers and survives."

"So... she may lose and die?" Fed sees your spy swallowing heavily after hearing his question. Thanks to this, he already knows the answer to it.

Strangely, instead of the huge, red fury and bloodlust, everything he feels is fear. Since he arrived at Giedi Prime, he has never felt fear. His uncle made sure that this emotion did not prevent him from reaching the ideal that his uncle demanded from Feyd. But at this point, when the vision of your dead body appears before his eyes, Feyd feels almost paralysed by fear of your life.

"There is... a little possibilty, my lord Baron."

This information is enough for him to make a decision. He stabs your spy in the stomach and allows her to sit on a bed. He reaches the exit in a few steps and opens the door with a bang. A doctor and two soldiers are waiting in the corridor. They look at him with fear in their eyes when he comes out, covered in blood. Before they can speak and probably inform him about his state of health, Fed is already growling at them and giving orders.

"Heal her and bandage her. She was only fulfilling my fiancee's orders." Fed tells the doctor. He is pleased with the surprise he sees on your spy's face. He intends to enjoy informing everyone about his 'engagement' with you. If you could have your plans, he could have some of his too. "Tell the pilot to turn back. And call more ours. We will burn these rats' nests to the ground."

With this promise, he leaves the room, ignoring the pain in his trunk. He must have found you before Fremen left with you for another hideout. He had to be fast and precise if he wanted to have you safe by his side. Maybe he should also ask the doctor for a sedative. Just in case you were stubborn enough to fight him instead of cooperating with him.

"What do you think?" Atreides' question catches you off guard for a moment. You stop watching the Fremen as they prepare to leave the sietch and shift your gaze to Atreides, raising an eyebrow in question. "About them. About my speech there."

"Are you looking for praise?" You mock, taking a closer look at what exactly he's putting into his bundle.

"I'm looking for a second opinion. Objective. Analytical and thorough." He replies, tying the fabric as he waits for your response.

"They will do whatever you want. Isn't that enough for you?" You ask, licking your lips as you choose your words carefully. You can see beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Paul wipes them away with his hand, not yet aware of the poison that courses through his veins.

You wanted to make sure as much as you could that when the moment came to defeat him and take his life force, there would be no shadow of a doubt that you would emerge victorious from the duel between you. After he went through the Reverend Mothers ceremony, you could try to perform the old ritual of reclaiming power between you two. This hasn't been done for centuries. So you hoped that everything you remembered from the old scrolls was true and that Atreides wouldn't surprise you with anything.

Even if he was a Kwisatz Haderach, you're still going to defeat him. No one and nothing will decide your fate.

"For now, yes. But in the future, I will need their full devotion. After all, I won't be the one to rule them on Arrakis." You raise your eyebrows questioningly, curious as to what his big plan for the future might be.

"Who do you want to entrust them to?"

Silence falls between you as you both look at each other intently. You know he's judging you, wondering how much he can tell you and how much he can hide from you. And you have to be convincing enough to gain even a little bit of trust from him. You know that stabbing Feyd helped you a lot with that. No matter how much it hurt you to do it.

"To be honest, you have the best skills to serve as Governor of Arrakis. The only question is, will you be equally faithful to me?"

"Me? Why?"

"They're already afraid of you. Besides, I saw your power—you're quite a powerful Bene Gesserit. Even if you don't like being called that, you can't cheat or change your destiny, no matter what."

"But... it is not all about power and fate, though is it?" You ask, slowly approaching him. "It is... something more there. Much more than we know." You whisper, looking at him with your most captivating gaze. Feyd would have killed him and tortured you if he saw you flirting with someone else... but luckily he wasn't here. And you had to somehow lower Atreides' guard.

"Indeed." He mumbles back and takes a step towards you. His fingers gently caress your jaw, tracing it until his fingertips brush against your lips. "My mother told me legends about the birth of the most powerful of the Bene Gesserit. A woman who could bring thousands to their knees with a wave of her finger, tamed the most bloodthirsty of all beasts. Stilgar... has suspicions that you may be the mother of the one, the one to come. Of course, this conflicts with his perception of me as the chosen one."

He spoke the truth. You were the most powerful of the Bene Gesserit. But not because you were born according to their program. You simply had potential, and they had way too much time and no obstacles to train you differently. You were supposed to be their perfect pawn in their game, to provide them with the Kwisatz Haderach. And now… you will kill the one who was supposed to be him.

"Even so, you don't lose power. They still listen to you. More than anyone else." You say, shifting your gaze from his eyes to his lips. He licks them, holding your jaw tightly as he leans slightly towards you.

"I may be my father's son, but I'm not going to make the same mistakes. You know, it is much safer to be feared than loved because... love is preserved by the link of obligation which, owing to the baseness of men, is broken at every opportunity for their advantage; but fear preserves you by a dread of punishment which never fails."

"The prince Machiavelli." You say, knowing a quote from the book. You're a little surprised that he would read something like that. He also seems amazed that you know what book he took these words from.

"Indeed. Hmm... Maybe you're not that cruel and bloodthirsty Harkonnen witch people think you are. After all, you're a bit educated." Under any other circumstances, you would have kicked him in... his tender place for this. But now you have to smile sweetly, comforting yourself only with the thought that he will soon die at your hands.

"Believe me, Atreides. I am everything they talk about and more." You mumble before leaning in to connect your lips in a kiss.

Kissing him is… different from kissing Feyd. Less intense, less hot, and less passionate. With him, you don't feel that familiar thrill of excitement you feel every time Feyd literally devours you. This kiss is... too polite. There's not an ounce of desire in him, at least not on your part. You try to be persuasive, though, caressing his lips, but it's not the same plush softness of Feyd's lips. Your mind refuses to be fooled, and you realise with horror how deeply your new Baron has managed to get under your skin when you haven't been able to enjoy the kiss of any other man.

Atreides reaches for your hips, pulling you closer to him as he deepens the kiss, moaning into your mouth. At least he was the only one having fun out of the two of you. You place your hands on his shoulders, slowly pulling your hidden dagger from your sleeve as you let the man kiss you and explore your body with his hands.

You almost sigh with relief when his lips finally leave yours. He moves to kiss your neck, and you decide that this is the moment to start the ritual.

"Stay still. Don't move or speak." You use the voice on him. He stiffens in an instant, his eyes widening slightly as the steel of your poisoned blade presses against his neck. "You were right. It's better to make them afraid of you than to love you."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him grab his hidden knife. But before he can stab you, you place your hands on his temples and recite the old formula, beginning the ritual. You feel yourself slowly starting to lose strength. You both kneel to the floor, life draining from the two of you.

It has begun. - you think as darkness takes over you.

This... is different from what you expected. Nowhere is it written what happens after the connection between the brains of the Bene Gesserit combatants is made. Or what kind of test are the two of you being put through to find out which one of you is stronger. You thought you and Atreides would stand in some imaginary arena and fight until one of you killed the other.

At least you would prefer this to the burning pain that overwhelmed you. You feel like you're immersed in pure, wild fire. All your nerves were burning. You felt your body, but at the same time, you were far from it. And all you could see and hear was blackness, screams, whispers, and songs in a language foreign to you. You feel like you've gone mad. Any pain you've felt doesn't compare to what you're going through right now.

You feel every cell in your body tear apart, and at the same time you remain in a void, unaware of anything except the feeling of pain.

But you endure it.

And suddenly, everything disappears. For a moment, you feel or hear nothing. It's just you and your consciousness as you anxiously await the turn of events.

Then various images begin to appear before your eyes—visions of the future and the past. You see every possible course of events that could occur and every single scenario that may happen. In some visions, both you and Feyd die; in others, it's just him or you; and in others, you both live to old age together. One element is constant. Only one. And you shudder every time you see the familiar figure of your future son ascending the throne as the Emperor and taking care of the entire world, restoring balance and peace.

All of Atreides' power has passed onto you. You knew everything. All possible futures. And they scared you more than you thought they would. And you feel completely different than you thought you would...

After some time and tens of thousands of visions, you return to your body. You begin to feel everything around you—the soft sheets beneath you, the softness of the pillow beneath your head, and the quiet beeping of the machines keeping you alive.

You struggle to open your eyes, hissing as the light hits your eyes. You look around, expecting to find a familiar hospital room, but instead you find yourself in Feyd's chambers. On fucking Giedi Prime.

"Welcome among the living." Feyd's hoarse voice reaches your ears. You turn your head towards him—too quickly, making you feel a little dizzy—but you open your mouth to speak anyway.

You have a terrible coughing fit, and your throat is drier than it has ever been on Arrakis. As you curl up on Feyd's bed, coughing up your lungs, you see him quickly fill a glass of water from the corner of your eye. He sits next to you, pulling you against his chest. You lean your back against him and drink the water greedily.

Feyd gently strokes your back, watching carefully as you drink the water. His gaze is watchful and attentive as he makes sure you drink the last drop from your glass.

When you finish, he takes your glass and walks over to the table to set it down. A cold shiver runs through you as you feel the absence of his presence. You remember how the last time you saw him, he was unconscious and injured. Because of you.

"I was more expecting to be chained to a wall in a prison cell. Or to have your harpies hovering over me and waiting for you to cut me up for them." You say jokingly, teasing him. But he doesn't laugh. You see him tense at your words before he slowly turns to face you.

"I had such an idea in my mind a month ago, when I found you pale as death in the arms of the equally dead Atreides. But I guess enough time has passed for me to get over it… or I just killed enough Fremen and doctors and Bene Gesserit women who couldn't bring you back to calm myself down."

"Month?" You ask, swallowing thickly as you bravely endure his stern glare.

"Mhmm… a month, two weeks and five days to be precise. This whole time, you were either losing your pulse or screaming until your throat was torn. Also, you had a fever that we barely managed to break down, and you were pronounced dead a few times, but who cares, right?" He asks casually, but you can clearly see the rage bubbling inside him despite his obvious concern for you.

"Oh… that's… a while."

"A little bit more than a while." He growls at you, playing with his dagger—the exact same one he gave you. You shudder as you see how much the blade has bent from the blood of the people you used it on.

"What about Atreides?" You ask, confused, wondering if it was really a good idea to bring this up now. Especially since he is playing with a poisoned dagger in his hands. And you used up the antidote to it (apparently) a month ago.

"I have his head. Do you want it on a silver platter, or should I just frame his tongue and hang it on the wall? Maybe right next to yours for being a liar and a traitor?" He asks furiously. But that's not what scares you the most. He's calm. Too calm and composed. And this was often how his anger manifested itself before he killed his victims.

"I... you know perfectly well that I had to do it. If I had done it differently, his... skills would have been lost. And I... now I see everything. I can prevent everything, I can make everything fine. Isn't that a big advantage for you? Have an oracle next to you?" You ask, slightly nervous about what he's going to do next.

"Depends on what this oracle wants to show me and what it doesn't want to show me. But since you know everything and the entire future, you probably know what I will do now." He says and heads towards the exit.

Your heart clenches, and you feel an inexplicable panic as you see him walk away from you. You can't stand how cold he was towards you. You have to do something. You can't just let him go.

"Feyd." You call after him and get out of bed to follow him. When you're on your legs, you lose your balance, and you would have fallen to the floor if Feyd hadn't caught you in his arms.

You dig your fingers into his shoulders, holding onto him as you breathe quickly. You look at each other for a moment, allowing yourself to immerse yourself in the closeness of the other one.

Feyd places his hand under your knees and picks you up in bridal style. He puts you on his bed again and pulls away to leave. You grab his elbow tightly and hold on, forcing him to stay by your side as you give him a desperate, pleading look for him not to leave you.

Feyd sighs, sitting next to you on the bed. He leans towards you and rests his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes, brushing his nose against yours. And you feel really calm for the first time in years.

"You have no idea... I have killed men for smaller things than that. The only reason you're still alive... is because I prefer to destroy you myself. Without the help of any sick rituals or poison. You'll be begging me to kill you, little witch. I'll make you go through the same damn pain you put me through. You'll be begging me to stop making you scream. Oh, and I'll make you scream much louder than becasue of this stupid ancient ritual."

You know he's mad at you. And he has every right to do so. But you can't take his words seriously. Not when you have irrefutable proof of the depth of his feelings for you. As he said, he killed for less. If he wanted to, he would have gotten rid of you or hurt you by now. But he didn't.

"I'll happily scream because of you, my Baron." You reply, placing your hands on his cheeks. You stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs, trying to memorise every little bit of his skin.

"I… I'm serious." He growls at you. He places his hand on your neck and squeezes it gently. You smile and press a kiss just near the corner of his mouth.

"Me too. Do it. Show me how loud you want me to scream for you." You challenge him, placing small kisses on his face.

"Y/N... I should have killed you ages ago, woman. You poisoned my mind, you stabbed me with a sword, you left me alone to deal with the mess you made, you forced me to worry about you while you slowly died in front of me day by day, and I couldn't do any-fucking-thing. So tell me, how can I get past this? Why is it that all I want to do is fuck you until I feel like you're really alive and around me?"

You bite your lip, trying not to moan at his words. You lick your lips and lean towards him, kissing him. He moans into your mouth and tries to pull away from you, but you grab his neck and pull him towards you. Your heart speeds up as your lips caress his as you give all of yourself to him in that kiss.

You gently massage his scalp and lie down on the pillows. You pull him with you as he starts to kiss you back. You moan into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his hips. He pulls away from you with a growl and presses his forehead against yours, trying to calm down for your sake. After all, you had just woken up... too bad his cock wasn't as sympathetic to you as you rubbed against him.

"I… my mother was a Harkonnen, you know? Maybe that's why I was so drawn to you. Like calls to like or something like that." You gasp, remembering the memory you saw. Feyd furrows his hairless eyebrows in surprise. A shiver runs across his skin, realising the power you've taken from Atreides.

"What else do you know?" He asks, caressing your cheek. You turn your head and press a kiss on the palm of his hand. You surprise him even more, but he's not going to protest when you show him affection. This was very rare in his life, and the fact that this small, voluntary gesture of adoration was coming from you made him even harder.

"That I don't want to lose you for some visions that may or may not happen. That you love me and that these months have been torture for you. That you hated me as much as you needed me to come back to you. That I… only want to think about us. I only care about our future, and I'm willing to watch this world burn if it means I can hold your hand until the end. with no fear that fate will make us hate each other. That I want you to be the only prophecy I care about."

"What about your escape from fate? You never wanted… to be part of this Kwisatz Haderach thing. Will you run away from me when you see that the path we are following leads inevitably to what you were so afraid of?"

His doubts are absolutely right. But that doesn't change the fact that you need him close to you right now. That you need his reassurance that everything will be fine, not his resentment. And you know it was wrong of you to demand from him things like that, but... nothing about your relationship was healthy anyway.

"Fuck it if I can't have us. Fuck it if I can't have you." You say and pull him in for another kiss. He moans in shock into your mouth but quickly responds to you with equal passion. You gasp as he grabs your waist tightly and lifts you up, making you sit on his lap.

"You said you love me." He gasps as he slowly removes your nightgown that he dressed you in himself.

"I did... I also stab you." You say as your hands reach up to start undressing him as well.

"You did. And you killed Atreides." He purrs against your jaw, placing kisses and hickeys there.

"I did." You groan, your hands shaking as you try to get rid of his clothes as quickly as possible.

"You handed me over to our people."

"I did. You are quite heavy." You giggle as he blows on your neck, tickling you, before sinking his teeth into it. You dig your fingers into his back, pulling him close to you.

"Why did you do this?" He asks, pulling away from you to look at you carefully, gauging your reaction, making sure you were always on his side, and doing everything for your mutual good. For his good.

"Because I decide about my fate. Not Bene Gesserit, not any Atreides, not you or anyone. Only me. And I want you. And love you. And need you. But only as my equal... and if you will have me."

"I won't let you go anymore." He warns, laying you down on the bed and towering over you.

"I will never want to leave." You promise, looking into his icy blue eyes and stroking the scar on his lower stomach—from the wound you gave him.

"Good."

"Good."

"Say it again."

"Good?" You ask teasingly, pressing kisses to his neck and giving him a few hickeys, marking him as yours with more than just his scars.

"No. You know what."

"I love you."

"About damn time." He growls, devouring your mouth. You moan as he bites into your lower lip. You both don't hold back anymore. Feyd marks you like a map, as if he wanted to memorise all the sensitive places that made you moan and writhe in pleasure, pressing into his muscled body.

You forget for a moment the whole world, everything you've done for him, everything you both should have discussed—all you can think about is Feyd. About wanting to be closer to him, about needing him as desperately as he needs you. So how can Feyd resist you when you're so willing to take him in? When he had dreamed of this moment for years? When can he finally satisfy his desire for your body?

He trails his kisses lower, gently taking your nipple into his mouth and cupping your other breast, massaging it. You moan, scratching his scalp, throwing your head back against the pillows, and grinding your hips against his.

You're both starting to get annoyed by the underwear that's preventing you from clinging to each other the way you want. Feyd rips your panties off of you, wasting no time in pushing his fingers into you. You whine, thrashing around on the bed, wanting more and yet too sensitive for anything else. You open your eyes and gasp at the sight of his full, erect length rubbing against your thigh. Feyd pinches your nipple, making you moan and shifting your gaze to him.

"Eyes on me, little witch."

"But... ach!" You moan as his fingers speed up inside you, tears forming in your eyes as your hips move in time with the rhythm of his fingers as you chase your orgasm.

"Listen to your Baron. Eyes on me." He pauses to slap your pussy. You moan, biting your lower lip. "And don't hold back any sounds. Or I'll punish you like I should have since you woke up."

It's very hard to keep your eyes open for him. Especially when his fingers massage your clit so perfectly and fill you up. You reach your hand to his hard cock on your thigh and rub it gently.

He growls, kissing you hard and punishingly, as you try to speed things up and make him lunge at you in a frenzy of lust, when he wants to tease your pussy and punish you accordingly first.

For a month he waited by your bedside, bravely holding you through the stages of your screams and high fevers, making sure you were alive, breathing, and your heart was beating in a rhythm he had memorized. He deserves to have some fun with you...

"Feyd... please..." Your moans, the kisses you place on his jaw, and the way your fingers caress the scar on his muscled stomach—the one you gave him yourself—make him lose his restraint, which was already frail and weak. At least that's how he explains his desire to immediately fulfill your wish.

His arms wrap around you tightly as he gently pushes into you, making sure his entire alabaster length will fit inside you. He stops, cursing in his tongue and resting his forehead against yours as he gives you a moment to adjust to his length. Finally. He finally feels you all around him. And you're tighter than he dreamed.

"Damn… you little witch…"

"I know..." You gasp, wrapping your arms around him, and kiss him hungrily, basking in the feeling of fullness as his length perfectly fills the void inside you. It's warm. It's nice to feel him so close to you. It's nice to be with him. You moan as he starts to move slowly, testing how far he can go.

Feyd growls, picking up his pace when you don't protest, his hips bucking wildly against yours, and you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer.

He grips one of your hips and cups your cheek with the other, making sure your eyes are focused on him. He kisses away the tears streaming down your cheek, licking them off your face. He kisses you fervently and hungrily, catching every moan and grunt you make as his hips grind against yours. A wet sound echoes through the room, occasionally interrupted by a moan from either of you as you finally come together in the most primal, animalistic way, demanding each other.

"Mine. Only mine." Feyd growls into your neck; his thrusts are faster and more precise, making you bite your lip to hold back your moans, but he doesn't let you do it for long. He wants to feel and hear all of you. He wants to revel in his victory. That's why he kisses you, biting your buttom lip to the blood. He pulls away and leans his forehead on yours as he listens to the little sounds you make as he fucks the brain out of you. "Can you feel how deep I am? How well am I filling you? You will be a beautiful Baroness. Fuck. My future wife. The mother of my children." He moans in your ear. You don't answer; you take ragged breaths, listening to the squelch of your joined bodies echoing around his chambers.

"You were meant for me. Just like I was for you. I will never let you escape again, I will never again let you out of my sight for more than a second, I will never again let you fight against the world and fate alone. We are the two sides of the same coin... WE. ARE. UNITY." He growls, making one last few hard pushes into you, making you both cum. He captures your lips in a kiss, muffling both of your screams as you fall apart around him, feeling his warm seed flood your womb.

You shake, wrapping your arms around him tightly, trusting him to hold the weight of both of you as you see nothing but white light in your orgasmic haze. You can't feel your legs, but you know you're still clenching them tightly around him. Your mind is empty; you feel amazing, electric bliss.

And for that moment you knew what cosmic love really meant. And you would fight with anyone to be able to experience it whenever you wanted.

"I love you." Feyd whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple and tightening his grip around you.

He slowly pulls out of you and collapses next to you, still holding you in the iron grip of his arms. You lazily snuggle into him and trace the scar you gave him with the fingertip of your finger. Guilt grows within you, and for a moment, you think that he purposely allowed this scar to remind you of what you did.

You decide to talk to him about everything tomorrow. It was just the two of you for now, and you were going to enjoy this as long as you could. You place your head into the crook of his neck and take his hand in yours. You tangle his other hand in your hair and snuggle into him, sighing as you feel his touch, warmth, and scent around you.

You both fall asleep cuddled together. And for a moment, you allow yourself to be in bliss of his touch and closeness, not worrying about any politics or issues that you should discuss instead of... giving in to something you have wanted for a long time.

From now on, you decide your fate.

Only you and Feyd.

That's why you make sure that your first child will be a daughter.

Taglist: (I REALLLLY hope that everyone who wanted to be here is here...😅 I;m sorry if I missed someone <3) @skymoonandstardust @prettybubblesintheair @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13 @vaf24 @dacreshoney @emrennoll-blog @tian-monique @slightlypossessed @celestialadrift @lauramooij05 @flaps200 @chixnugg22 @aaaaaamond @marvelfangirl04 @sw33tsnow @emeraldsgirl @imyourbubblegumpop @tempt-ress @harkonnin @k1swass @alana4610 @cloudroomblog @lotus-888 @lowlyloved @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @w3ird11 @kythefangirl25 @hobobobo-fett56 @nj452896 @oneandonlybbygrl @noirecatt @iloved1lfs0 @mamawiggers1980 @lololfixu @barnes70stark @obsessedvibee @aaaaaamond @workof-a-rr-t  @oneandonlybbygrl @alexa4040 @lowlyloved @toertchen @em-100 @caintheking @justarandomflowerchildofthenight @hrtifyeren

[midnight-serendipity]

Only you can make me so into such dysfunction. Lol!

Feyd had cracked open the prisoner's chest, taken his son by the hand, and guided his fingers into the open wound with the instruction to keep them wrapped around the organ until it no longer moved. You remember his eyes that day—round as saucers and sprinkled with excitement as he looked up at his father who ruffled his hair with a grin on his face. 

Of course, how could I assume a different bonding activity for Feyd and his child? 🤣

“Will I be strong enough to kill Uncle Paul for stealing me and Mommy from you?” You almost snort as you roll your eyes. Of course, Feyd told him the story. It was only a matter of time before he sat him down and explained the tale of your half-brother killing—or almost killing—Feyd in front of you, then holding you hostage upon finding out Feyd was still alive and demanding you be returned to him. In exchange for you and the baby he discovered you were pregnant with, Feyd swore loyalty to your brother. But your husband will not allow his bloodline to continue for generations under the thumb of Paul Atreides. And that starts with your son.  Feyd chuckles. “You will be strong enough to destroy your uncle and everything he loves.” Finally making your presence known, you edge around the corner and lean against the wall. When Feyd sees you, so too does your son, and knowing the boy’s next move, Feyd takes the small blade from the even smaller hand. “Mommy, I'm going to kill Uncle Paul!” he says joyfully as he rushes over and slams into your legs. “And everything he loves!”

And of course, only you can find that delicate balance between psychopath and adorable. Lol.

But Oh My God, imagine Feyd as a girl-dad. 🥹 Cue the threats to the would-be suitors. 🤣

As always, I love this little AU you created for Feyd.

Thank you!

The Harkonnen's Loves

Dad!Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Mom!Atreides!reader

Summary in bullet points:

Your and Feyd’s four-year-old son is sweet like you but has a little love for violence like his father

Feyd gives your son his first blade

Feyd is soft for his family (I just think being in love and having a family would alter this psycho man’s brain chemistry a bit)

Notes: same Feyd x reader from The Harkonnen’s Sweet Thing and The Harkonnen’s Claim. 

Warnings: a half-psycho half-sweet little boy, mention of blood and injury, mention of pregnancy.

Words: 1500

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

Your son contains a sweetness. ‘Caladan Sweetness’ you call it, because your home planet was where your sweetness was born into you. Your father, the beauty of your home, the oceans and the fields bloomed you into the soft, sweet thing that your husband loves. And though your son has never seen the world you come from, that sweetness runs through his veins. His smile, his laugh, his power to draw those around him out of their Harkonnen-built shells—that all comes from you. 

But at the same time, he is no less like his father. He adapts rather quickly to his surroundings. He has a natural curiosity for weaponry and blood and how one brings about the other. He does not hate the feel of a heart beating its final beat in his little hand—a feeling his father expressed would be better experienced young, and was done so after the slaughtering of a prisoner in front of the boy's eyes. Feyd had cracked open the prisoner's chest, taken his son by the hand, and guided his fingers into the open wound with the instruction to keep them wrapped around the organ until it no longer moved. You remember his eyes that day—round as saucers and sprinkled with excitement as he looked up at his father who ruffled his hair with a grin on his face. 

He truly is a combination of you both; such beautiful balance has already taken shape in a tiny body. He will be a warrior built and molded by his desire to understand everything his father has to teach him. And yet, he will be gentle where necessary; you hope, one day, with a wife and children of his own. But it’ll be long before that day comes. 

Then again, in some ways, he is growing so fast. For you, it could have been yesterday that you were pushing him out of your womb as your husband held your hand and kissed your forehead. At four years old, you still see him as your baby, but you acknowledge that Harkonnen blood ripens faster than the average child, and he has already begun to show signs of the man your brother prophesized him to be: one of the strongest alive; stronger even than his father. 

That is why you’ve allowed Feyd to pace your son’s training—it’s his area of expertise. It is their bond, and you don’t interfere in those moments, opting to stay just out of sight. 

“You're old enough now to have your own blade,” you hear your husband tell your son from your hidden spot around the corner. 

You can’t hold back your smile at your son's uncontained curiosity as Feyd pulls the knife out from behind his back and presents it to the boy. It balances perfectly on Feyd’s palm as tiny hands reach up. Your son pauses, but when Feyd gives an encouraging nod, he plucks it from his father’s hand. 

It couldn’t be a better fit. Not too long or heavy for his hand, but not too short or light. It’s a good starting blade to prepare him for the weapons that will grow in size as he does. 

“You will be training with me every day from now on,” Feyd tells him.

The boy looks up from the knife to meet his father’s eyes. “So I can get strong like you, Daddy?”

“Stronger than me.”

Your son giggles, a wide grin breaking open his face. “No one's stronger than you!”

Feyd's features soften as he pats his boy's cheek. “You will be.”

“Will I be strong enough to kill Uncle Paul for stealing me and Mommy from you?”

You almost snort as you roll your eyes. Of course, Feyd told him the story. It was only a matter of time before he sat him down and explained the tale of your half-brother killing—or almost killing—Feyd in front of you, then holding you hostage upon finding out Feyd was still alive and demanding you be returned to him. In exchange for you and the baby he discovered you were pregnant with, Feyd swore loyalty to your brother. But your husband will not allow his bloodline to continue for generations under the thumb of Paul Atreides. And that starts with your son. 

Feyd chuckles. “You will be strong enough to destroy your uncle and everything he loves.”

Finally making your presence known, you edge around the corner and lean against the wall. When Feyd sees you, so too does your son, and knowing the boy’s next move, Feyd takes the small blade from the even smaller hand.

“Mommy, I'm going to kill Uncle Paul!” he says joyfully as he rushes over and slams into your legs. “And everything he loves!”

“I heard!” you reply, grinning as you crouch down to his level and take hold of his hands. “But you know what? Little na-Barons who wish to take revenge on their uncles must first get a good night's sleep.”  

“Ok!”

“I'll come check on you in a minute,” you promise him before kissing his cheek and sending him on his way. Your eyes follow him running down the hall until he’s safely behind the door of his bedroom. 

Turning back to your husband and walking to his side, you say, “You told him.”

The tip of the blade pushes into his pointer finger as he lazily twirls the small weapon. “At his age, he should know who his enemies are.”

You slip between his muscled body and the table in the center of the common room where he sets down your son’s knife. With a closed-mouth smile, you hum. “And how did you start that conversation? ‘Uncle Paul made Mommy sad and Daddy mad’?”

“Something like that,” he confirms, leaning into you. His hands brace on the table, one arm at either side of your hips as he seals his lips to yours. 

Feyd’s mouth moves at a slow, hypnotic rhythm but with an intense pressure that’s glazed in possessiveness. You can taste it. That ownership. That authority. He may not always fuck you like you belong to him—sometimes it’s your turn to remind him that he’s yours—but his kisses have never been anything short of claiming. Gentle or rough, slow or frenzied, short or long enough to make you forget what world you’re in, a kiss from your husband ends with the reassurance that he wants you, he loves you, and he won’t ever let you go. 

His hands move to your neck, thumbs pressing into the curve of your jaw to hold your head still and you moan from his cool fingers soothing flushed skin. Your lips part and his tongue licks into your mouth. It plays with yours and then retreats. Teeth sink into your bottom lip, lightly tugging before he pulls back to rest his forehead against yours. 

“How's our other one?” he asks as a knuckle draws a line from your jaw to your neck to your cleavage. His eyes follow as it continues past the neckline of your dress and down your sternum, stopping at your stomach where his fingers splay wide. His eyes flick up to yours.

“Strong…like you,” you say, placing your hand over his. “...and like him.”

Your husband nods, exhaling a light sigh of relief. “Did they tell you?”

You smile. “They think it's a girl,” you answer. 

A few thumps of your heart pass as you await his reaction, but then Feyd smiles with you.

---

@avidreader73 @alwaysadreamingoptimist @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @workof-a-rr-t @midnight-serendipity @minedofmoria @aoi-targaryen