Feyd X Reader - Blog Posts

overview: a marriage with feyd rautha, a strangely peaceful one for being betrothed to such a seemingly monstrous man.

warnings: arranged marriage (happened prior to when the story is set), pregnancy

the story is entirely in the third person, the reader is referred to as various terms of endearment or 'mrs (missus) harkonnen'—not y/n.

His Missus

she sat awake in bed, clad in merely a silk robe. a book was opened before her, her hands and the book propped on her protruding stomach. the silk sheets and fur comforter covered her legs. the room was illuminated by the faint orange glow of flickering candles, filling the room with the scent of melting wax that mixed with the lingering scent of her betrothed.

she never slept until he too was in bed, as his hostility and impulsivity brought her great paranoia. not that he would harm her, but that he would harm others in a fit of rage that she wasn't there to calm. she was the sole being—at the moment—that could calm the na-baron.

as she flipped the page to her book, one of the large wooden doors opened and feyd stepped into the room. clad in just an article that hung from his hips, he approached the bed. setting his blade on the nightstand, he slid into bed, laying close beside his wife.

she closed her book, looking over and down at her husband.

"how is the child?" he inquired, his large hand coming to rest on her stomach.

"he has behaved better than an angel," she replied calmly, setting her book aside.

"he is not inheriting violent traits, then," feyd whispered.

his wife shifted, moving to lay beside him.

"i suppose not, darling," she replied, "we mustn't tell the baron such."

feyd's lips barely quirked in a smirk.

she smiled softly at her husband's small smirk. she had yet to make him let out a chuckle—a genuine one, not one of those sardonic ones he let out during altercations of any degree. but, she was determined to do so. maybe the birth of the heir—that was due to happen in mere weeks—would further soften his stone heart with the molten lava of paternal love.

"you mustn't lose your temper with the infant," missus harkonnen murmured, peering up at her husband through her thick eyelashes.

"do not doubt my control so severely," he breathed, a flicker of annoyance crossing his dull eyes.

she gave a slight nod, sliding across the silk just an inch. her head lay on his bicep, her nose just barely brushing against his shoulder. her protruding stomach pressed against his side, and her hand lay on his chest.

the first time she had done this—after their marriage consummation—she had expected him to shove her away, maybe even harm her for attempting to do such. but he had not. he simply laid there tensely, attempting to keep his breathing even to not disrupt her.

just by the way his behavior had changed, she could tell that she—and likely the child she was baring—had some effect on feyd. an effect that was molding the broken, monstrous man into a man—still violent and broken—who was only calmed by two creatures. his wife and his child.

his hand barely brushed against the back of her thigh, his fingers trailing up the side of her thigh and resting on her hip.

"i should blow out the candles," she whispered, the realization that leaving candles to burn all night was unwise. she slid out of bed, his hand falling from her body and onto the silk sheets.

going around the room, she blew out candles one by one.

feyd watched her closely. his chest rose and fell slightly, his abdomen and thighs lexing each time she bent over slightly, the flame of a candle nearing her delicate face too close for his comfort.

after blowing out the last candle, the room was dark. his eyes quickly adapted, still zeroed in on his missus.

she walked towards the bed, one hand out in front of her and the other at her side, feeling for the nightstand as she walked slowly. she had never been good in the dark. and, truthfully, being in absolute darkness scared her.

nobody knew what hid within the darkness. anything could be there, watching, waiting. waiting for—

she was ripped from her paranoid thoughts by soft rustling.

feyd had sat up, his hand gently taking hers. he led her closer, his other hand coming to rest on her hips to lead her the rest of the way.

"thank you, darling," she whispered softly, her hands resting on his shoulders.

"you behave like a frail fawn in the dark," he muttered roughly, assisting her into bed.

"if i am a frail fawn, what does that make you?" she inquired as she laid down.

he let out a heavy breath, his hand resting on her swollen stomach. most would have immediately shouted "the hunter," but she knew far better. he'd never harm her, or their own little fawn that would arrive in mere weeks—if not days.

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