ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part I 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』
summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.
warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. (needs to be edited, so please excuse any temporary errors!)
word count: 5.3k
The ancient walls of Castle Caladan were a fortress, the long winding halls a labyrinth to those unfamiliar with its layout. You had tried feigning sleep when you had been made aware of the surprise guest’s arrival, a one “reverend mother”- as your mother referred to her. The cool air from the hallway nipped at your exposed arm, which currently hung limply over the side of the bed.
“She’s even smaller than your son, Jessica.” The voice sounded more like a wheeze- and it certainly didn’t belong to anyone you had ever met before.
“As I’ve already said, the Atreides are slow to grow.” Your mother’s tone didn’t hold even a semblance of a bite to it, not like you expected. She was usually fiercely protective of you and your brother.
Your finger twitched, causing the woman to stifle whatever disapproving comment she was about to make. Being caught eavesdropping like this certainly wasn’t ideal, but you found it impossible not to be curious.
“She really is just like her brother,” More like he was more like you. You’d always been the rowdy one of the two. Paul must have been listening in as well, and you imagined that he was more insulted at the comments of his lack of height and muscle than you were. “The little rascals.”
There was a beat of silence before the woman began to crone again. This time you opened your eyes just a sliver, staring into the dark abyss of your room so that you could make out the shapes of your mother and the stranger.
“Rest now. Both you and your brother need to be prepared to meet my Gom Jabbar.” The reason couldn’t be pinpointed, but there was something about her tone that filled you with dread.
Your mother woke you up the next morning, bright and early.
Not even the breathing exercises that your mother had taught you had been able to calm you down last night. The darkness had swallowed you whole, which resulted in a dreamless sleep that left you feeling just as unrested as you had felt the night before. Your mother noticed your hesitations, the skirts of her dress dragging against the stone floor as she moved in the direction of your closet. The dress that she picked out for you was one of your more official garments, the red hawk of the Atreides crest proudly sewn onto the right breast.
“Did you sleep well?” She questioned as she laid the dress neatly onto the edge of the bed, urging you to stand once her hands were free.
You blinked at her, nervously brushing your hands along the soft cotton of your nightdress. Your voice felt stuck in your throat, but you still managed to lie.
“Yes, of course.” Your tone was flat, and for once she didn’t question you on the reasoning. She knew exactly what had you feeling so uncomfortable in your own home.
Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar.
What exactly did the old woman want from your family? Lady Jessica was a Bene Gesserit, which could only mean that this woman was a higher up, sent to pay you and your brother a visit. You knew nothing about any “coming of age” rituals.
Paul barged into the room, dressed in his finer clothes as well. He leaned against the wall of your room, lips pursed as if he was deep in thought. You tilted your head to the side, leveling him a worried glance. He simply shook his head, and you knew at once that he wasn’t trying to dismiss your worries.
‘Not here. Later.’ His expression told you, and for once you obeyed.
“The reverend mother is waiting on the both of you. Paul, get out of your sister’s room so she can get ready.” She commanded, her tone leaving no room for whining or disobedience.
He groaned, pushing himself off of the wall so that he could head back out and into the hall. You shrugged out of your dress quickly at the hurried insistence of your mother, allowing her to do up the clasps of the dress for you.
“Who is she?” You asked simply, brushing your hair to the side so that she could get a better grasp of the dress.
“She was my teacher at the Bene Gesserit school and now she is the Emperor’s Truthsayer.” Your mother sighed out your name, turning you quickly so that you were facing her. “You need to do exactly as she says. There is no room to be prideful today, do you understand?” Her eyes were pleading, and you knew that she had your best interests in mind.
You and your mother walked wordlessly out into the hall, catching up with your brother who was busy running his fingers along the uneven stone walls. You flashed a quick look at your mother before jogging to catch up with Paul, taking the hem of his sleeve into your hand.
“What do you know?” You whispered, turning your head so that you could look at your mother. Much to your surprise she seemed to be in no hurry to separate the two of you.
“I’ve had dreams about her before,” He whispered, and you had to pick up your pace to keep up with his strides. “And mother told me this morning that I have to tell her about my visions.”
Your mouth went a bit dry at the realization that this woman truly was here just for you and your brother. What is the Gom Jabbar and what did it entail? There was no telling.
“She’s in my morning room, you two.” She called out after you.
Jessica caught up, leveling the both of you a disapproving motherly look that had the two of you slowing your strides to match hers. She seemed a bit hesitant, eyes flickering between you and your brother and the closed door.
The “reverend mother” sat in one of the tapestried chairs, her arms perched on either side of the armrests as she watched the three of you come in. The view behind her was beautiful, the sprawling, green farmlands of the Atreides family holding on full display through the large windows behind her. You glanced at your brother, eyes widening when you realized that he was already looking at you. He bowed in her direction and you followed his lead.
“They are a cautious bundle, aren’t they?” The witch-like woman croaked, looking between the two of you.
“As they have been taught, your reverence.”
In this room, here in front of this woman, Jessica was no longer the Duke’s concubine nor your mother. She was reduced to that of a pupil in the face of her teacher. You kept yourself from fidgeting, clasping your hands in front of you. You fought the urge to reach out and grab your brother’s hand, as the two of you so often did when faced with anxiety as children. Fear hadn’t regressed you to that of a blubbering child in years.
Your mother also seemed to fear the woman before her. There was something in her tone that led you to believe that whatever she was here for, it surely wasn’t a pleasantry. Your brother was tense at your mother’s other side, jaw tense as he stared the reverend mother down.
“Teaching is one thing, but there are some things that cannot simply be taught,” Paul’s eyebrows furrowed as she spoke, and as if she was dismissing a servant of the castle, she waved your mother off with a flick of her wrist. “You and your daughter leave us. It will be her turn soon.”
For the first time that morning your mother hesitated, eyes softened as she looked upon her son.
“Your reverence, I-” She began, but was cut off before she could finish whatever it is she was going to say. Surely it was meant to be an objection.
“Jessica, you know that this must be done.” Her voice held a tone of finality. There was no room for your mother to try and wiggle the both of you two out of this trap.
“Yes. . . of course.” Your mother straightened, turning towards both of you.
“This test. . . It’s very important to me, you two.” She spoke in a hushed voice, eyes still fearful.
“Test?” The two of you questioned at the same time, looking at one another in concern. You were confused, even more so than you were before.
“Remember that you’re the duke’s son.” And with that your mother was grabbing your arm, pulling you in the direction of the door.
“I suppose that it is my turn?” Your voice shook with anger as you practically tore the door off of its hinges, anxious to take your brother’s place. His cries and whimpers did not go unheard, even with the thick wood separating the two of you.
Looking at him now, his right arm still shaking from the pain, was like being slapped across the face.
“Right you are, girl. Jessica, please escort your son out of the room.” There was a silvery glint in her bright eyes- a challenge. She could sense it in you.
Your mother didn’t interrupt this time, and without any words exchanged the door closed. Your brother was too shaken up by whatever had taken place in that room to fully comprehend that the same thing was going to happen to you. He tossed a terrified glance over his shoulder at you just before the heavy doors closed. The sound of it echoed around the room, pulsing in your chest as you tried to steady the adrenaline pumping through your veins.
“Your future. . . do you know what is expected of you?”
You eyed the black box that sat next to her as you began closing the distance between the two of you. The question she had asked. . . it was a touchy subject with you. Of course you knew. A day didn’t go by that you weren’t mortified by the prospect of your future. You only had three short years to live and enjoy before you would be forced to abandon your family to join hands with another one.
“Of course I do. It is my duty to marry.” Your voice had a bite to it, your eyes unwavering as you stared her veiled face down.
“It is your duty to marry a Harkonnen. It is an honor to be the only reason that these two great Houses are allies. Your heirs will be powerful beyond comprehension.” The way she spoke. . . she truly believed the shit she was spouting.
It was impossible to consider marrying Feyd an honor. It was an ever-present looming threat.
“Put your right hand in the box.” She commanded, nodding her head in it’s direction.
It seemed harmless enough, nothing more than a metal box. You bent your head ever-so-slightly, trying to have a look inside. It appeared to be a pitch black, endless void. No beginning or end in sight.
You did as you were told, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from muttering anything too disrespectful under your breath. If Paul’s screams were anything to go off of then this was going to be painful. Still, you were shocked by how cold the box was. You wiggled your fingers a few times, feeling the metal encasing them. Slowly a tingling sensation began, almost as if they were falling asleep.
“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.”
The tingling sensation somehow melded into. . . heat. No, not heat. Burning. It felt as though you had your hand held up to a bright flame. You flinched, but froze when you finally noticed that the reverend mother was holding something against your neck. Your eyes flickered the best that they could to her hand, not wanting to turn your head.
“What I hold at your neck is the Gom Jabbar. The tip of the needle is dipped in poison. Remove your hand from the box and I will plunge it into your neck.”
The palm of your free hand began to sweat, the gravity of the situation finally landing on your shoulders. You would be forced to endure the pain and there was nothing that anyone outside of the doors could do. No guards had come to protect your brother when it was his turn, and no matter how emotional your mother had gotten whilst hearing his screams she still hadn’t rushed in after him. You could truly die here in this room.
“Why are you doing this?” You urged, wincing again as the burning continued to worsen.
Now it felt as though you were almost touching a flame, fingers dancing dangerously close. It wasn’t just uncomfortable now but painful. “To determine if you’re human. Now be silent.”
Meant for greatness, yet stifled before her prime.
It was impossible for your clipped wings to take flight. The Bene Gesserit had instilled in you your purpose from a very young age, letting it be known that you were little more than cattle to be sold off to breed. The whole arrangement was dehumanizing, but this was the way of galactic high society. Every House had been developed by the close, watchful eye of the Bene Gesserit. Your mere existence was a result of a centuries long breeding program, so how could you ever expect for your own life to be any different?
Every child, especially in their naive youth, dreams of greatness. There was a point in time where you had hoped to mean something. There were differences to be made, rules to be broken, wars to be raged- but you would never be at the helm of any of it. But Paul. . . Paul was different.
“You know something that I don’t.” You weren’t asking Paul, rather telling him what you already knew.
Where you were used to your brother pulling no punches, he had been overly cautious with his treatment of you during training today. For a second he just stared ahead blankly at the wall, and you wondered whether he would try to lie. The older you’ve gotten, the stranger other people’s treatment of you has become. Women were little more than something to be owned. It was a hard lesson to learn and was one you were still grappling with.
Your femininity were the chains that bound you. And what of your ambition? It was currently acting as the flames licking at your boot heels. Soon you feared that it would fully engulf you; become your undoing.
“Tell me.” Your lovely features crumpled, and as childish as it was you found yourself giving his arm a slap.
He jumped at the sudden contact, eyes widening as he turned to face you after what felt like an eternity of prolonged silence between the two of you. The hard flooring felt cool beneath your legs as you stretched them out beneath you, and for a second you found it hard to keep yourself up in a sitting position. The world felt unsteady beneath you, both literally and figuratively.
Paul didn’t have to say anything at all. You looked, you saw, you felt, you understood. Your shared connection had nothing to do with your genes, rather it had to do with your likeness. Two bodies, two minds, but one soul. Your twin’s features crumpled, mirroring that of your own as he pushed a few strands of dark hair away from his face.
“So there is nothing I can do? My fate is sealed.” Your lips felt numb as you spoke.
Your brother’s visions were more frequent than they had ever been before. “Horrors”, he’d described them.
“If there was something I could do. . .” He started, turning quickly to face you, tucking one leg beneath himself. “My hands are tied. Mother and father’s hands are as well.”
Hiding you away or knowingly allowing you to escape your duties would be seen as an act of treason. You’d be putting your parents and their status in danger, and no matter how desperate you were to get out of any sort of marriage pact, it was far too late. Since the very moment you were conceived, this was what you were meant for.
“When will the orders come down, you think?” You pulled your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them tightly.
You wished that you could stay like this forever, protected from the rest of the world. If only you hadn’t been born as twins at all. You wanted so badly to be like Paul.
But the galaxy didn’t work like that. You were not fortunate enough to get what you wanted.
“Soon.”
You felt comforted by the hand that he placed on your shoulder, and even more so when he kept it there until you felt as though you were able to stand up.
You were to marry into House Harkonnen. That was your purpose; to unite the feuding houses and birth powerful offspring. You had met Feyd once before, but only for a fleeting moment. It hadn’t been awkward- no, back then the two of you hadn’t cared enough to pay any mind to the looming threat that was your betrothal. You’d been too young back then to fully grasp the severity of the situation.
You remembered being shocked by his size. He towered over Paul, appearing to be years older than he really was. His hair had been dark back then, thick and slightly curly.
He had only just been taken under his uncle’s wing at the time. The environment of Giedi Prime had yet to fully sink into the young boy. The Harkonnen’s looks had always been startling to you, no matter how many times you’d been exposed to it. They were dark creatures, brooding, hairless with skin as pale as milk- not to mention violent.
The desperate way that Paul had clung to you was not lost on you. You let him squeeze you as tightly as he needed, your arms locking around his back. This meeting would change everything. In a matter of moments your life as you knew it would be taking a drastic turn, and not for the better.
You’d made that very same trek to the parlor room a million times. This was your ancestral home- had been in your family longer than you thought was conceivable, and yet this felt new to you. Wrong. The shadows from the windows were casting strange lights on the wall beside you, and your footsteps sounded muffled in your ears as your pounding heart nearly deafened you. Your father’s hand brushed against your palm a few times, his attempt at showing you physical comfort without causing any sort of scene. You knew that this was Feyd-Rautha’s right.
You were Feyd-Rautha’s right. That simple fact alone was enough to send you reeling, that morning's breakfast churning in your stomach.
“It will be fine.” Your mother’s fingers shaped the words at her side, a comforting and silent presence.
Your parents had always protected you. They had taught you well in all aspects of life. She was right. You had to trust yourself just as much as you trusted them. This will be fine. You will survive.
But god, you wanted to live.
Your worst fear was being locked up like a caged animal, only taken out to be played with or paraded around. You didn’t want to be somebody's little wife; you were no homemaker or bed warmer.
‘I am better than this.’ You thought to yourself, your hands balling into fists at your sides.
As the double doors began creeping open, you felt the sudden urge to run the opposite direction, your parents be damned. The feud between House Atreides and House Harkonnen would surely become deadly if you were to turn your back on the promise now, and that was the only thing that steeled your feet. You stood, back straight and hands clasped tightly at your front.
You looked to be a pillar of strength, but oh- you were so close to crumbling. Your father took a step past the threshold, eyes hard as he bowed his head respectfully in the Baron’s direction. There was still time to turn around. The door was right there, and you were sure that you could commandeer a ship. You’d piloted a few times before in your life, and while you weren’t the best, you were certain you could get yourself the hell off of Caladan. You shuffled your feet, eyes wide as you looked up and caught your mother’s gaze. Her lips were parted, and you could tell that she was trying to decipher your expression.
“What are you doing?” Her hand moved quickly at her side, the flowy gauze-like material of her skirts hiding her frantic movements from the visitor’s view.
Nothing. You were doing nothing. There were no options yet. If you fled then the insubordination would fall back on your parents. If you downright refused then the outcome would be the same. There was nothing you could do but keep your mouth shut and try not to show the Harkonnen even a semblance of vulnerability.
Disdain rolled off of you in waves as you breezed into the parlor, eyes locked on the side of your father’s face as he conversed with the baron. Tensions were high, even now. No pleasantries were being exchanged, that you were sure of. The Harkonnen’s stark black attire was a startling contrast to their pale skin. There, in the middle of two other men, whom you were sure were present for reasons of protection, was Feyd.
He looked the same as the rest of them. Hairless, blue eyes dripping with something that could only be described as malice. Gone was the curly haired child that you remembered. In his place stood someone unrecognizable to you. You wanted to question what the Baron had done to Feyd, but you already knew. Perfection was expected on Geidi Prime.
He had shaped Feyd into the very likeness of perfection. The once dark haired boy was now a walking, talking machine; not even a dead leaf echo of the boy you met all those years ago.
You tried to map out every single one of his microexpressions, searching desperately for any sign that he might disapprove of the predicament the both of you had found yourselves in. He tilted his head to the side, observing you with a horrifying level of concentration. The Baron began to speak, saying something that you didn’t care enough to listen to. You were too distracted by the terrifying man before you.
“She will come back home to Geidi Prime with us. No objections, correct?”
You were marrying him out of an obligation, this he was already privy to. He had seen the reluctance written plain across your face as you’d entered the room. You’d wanted to run. Away from him, away from your responsibilities- and he could not blame you for it. His understanding stopped there though, simply because this proposal wasn’t going against his own wishes.
“The wedding isn’t taking place for another week.” The Duke didn’t seem to like the idea of his unwed daughter leaving his side.
Feyd fought back a smile, having known that the Baron’s sudden request would have this effect on the Atreides family. He watched you squirm like a bug under a magnifying glass, your hand moving at your hip. For a second he thought that you might be tugging at the seam of your dress, writing it off as nothing but a nervous tick- but then he saw the way your mother’s eyes followed those movements.
The two of you were communicating.
“That may be so, however I think that it is only right that your daughter,” Baron Vladimir motioned in your direction. “Becomes better acquainted with Feyd. You don’t agree?”
His uncle decided that it was best to test the boundaries of this alliance. He was pushing the Duke, seeing how far he could get. Leto’s lips twitched, his eyes flickering thoughtfully towards you. Feyd was finding it hard to pay attention to anyone else other than you in the room. He’d spent years imagining what you would look like as an adult- dreamt about it. He’d eagerly been awaiting this moment, counting the days that he could finally be reunited with you.
It wasn’t just because he had been promised powerful heirs. It was the thought that someone was fated to marry him. Since before he was even conceived, you had always been promised to him. That idea had been put into his head since childhood. You were the constant topic in his mind, a person that was unavoidably meant to be in his life for the rest of his days.
In a strange way he had loved you since he was but a child.
Seeing you for that first time had been better than he had anticipated. You were a beautiful little girl, but now? The child that he had met all those years ago did not hold a candle to the grace and brilliance of the woman that stood before him now. Nobody else could ever compare. You didn’t have to fall for him right now, he was content with that. Hell, you didn’t even have to tolerate him. He would find pleasure in wearing you down. He was going to make you love him.
I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
The adrenaline had run its way out of your system, leaving you cold and alone on a planet that was so incredibly alien to you, you weren’t sure how you’d ever be expected to adjust. Even the oxygen felt different in your lungs- the sweet, acrid smell of chemicals tinging the air around you. It was nothing like your home on Caladan. Your home was a stone castle, but this? This was a cold, black fortress.
You weren’t sure if it was meant to keep people out. . . or in.
You thought back to that fateful day with the reverend mother.
“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.”
You couldn’t chew your leg off to be free of this. No, you had to lay in wait. Only then could you strike if the situation called for it.
“Striking” could wait until tomorrow though. For now you wanted to rid yourself of the anxiety. Sleep was the only cure you could think of.
“Is the room to your liking?” That husky voice of his was already grating on your nerves.
Feyd had only attempted to speak to you a few times and already you were sick and tired of his presence. He was a constant reminder that you would never know what it was like to be free. Then again, was anybody in the galaxy truly free? Feyd sure seemed to be carefree in his current position.
His tone felt off, like he was toying with you.
“I would be far more pleased about my new living quarters if you were to leave.” You said simply, pulling the slate gray blanket up and over your chin.
You weren’t sure if it was due to his ill-breeding, but he didn’t seem to care that you were in nothing but your night dress. He walked into the room in long-legged strikes, letting the door shut behind him. Never before had the two of you been alone together, not since you were children at least. If you were back in your family home you would feel safer during a moment like this.
You were in his territory now, meaning he had full reign over everything. Your father and family name couldn’t protect you on Geidi Prime.
“You’re in quite the rush to be rid of me,” He didn’t falter for even a second as he moved to sit down on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the plush mattress with a small sigh. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you didn’t like me.” He didn’t seem upset at the notion of you disliking him. In fact, there was a glint in his eyes. That same sort of silvery glint you’d seen in the reverend mother’s eyes all those years ago: a challenge.
This was nothing but a challenge to him. You were a conquest, and you detested that. Your stomach soured, your face becoming pinched as you glared at him. This was all too much too fast. You were in the comfort of your own home not even four hours ago, and now you were expected to make small talk with the source of your life-long discontent.
“And what of your concubines? Could you not pester them tonight and give me a moment's peace?”
“I dismissed them from their duties, permanently, weeks ago.” He said simply, his fingers running along the cotton of the comforter.
“What?” You’d never heard of such a thing.
“Spending time with them would be a waste.” His blue eyes flickered up to meet your eyes. “Acquiring concubines had just been a show of status.”
It took you a few moments to process what he was saying, the burning hatred you had felt just moments ago flickering out into a dull flame.
“Why would spending time with them be a waste? Am I expected to spend that much time with you?” A horror, truly. You had hoped that you’d be able to get away with spending a night or two a week with him, if only to achieve the Bene Gesserit’s goal of siring an heir.
“A waste of time. A waste of seed,” He looked at you pointedly, his lip pulling up into a smile that revealed more of his black teeth. “And both of those things are important to me.”
Your stomach hollowed out as you were once again reminded of what was expected of you. You had a week to prepare mentally for your wedding night, which you weren’t sure was enough.
“And what happened to the concubines? Are they still being housed here?”
“Why? Are you jealous?” He was smiling even wider than he was before.
A shiver ran through you as you noticed how predatory his body language was- you felt like prey under his haughty gaze. It was hard to believe that Feyd had been administered the Gom Jabbar test and passed.
This man was no human. He was an animal, that you were certain.
“Wickedly.” Your tone was flat and noncommittal. Even now, you never saw Feyd as a potential lover.
The man that was your so-called “destiny” was also your jailer.
“Well then you’ll be happy to know that they no longer live here. . . or anywhere, for that matter.” He sat up, rolling his shoulders back to stretch his broad muscles.
The blood drained from your face as you stared up at him from your spot on the bed. He must have felt the weight of your gaze and turned his head, his eyes alight with. . . pleasure. Violence was as ingrained in him as breathing was. It was his life. Standing before you was the prince of death- pale, striking and terrifying.
Animal, indeed.
I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
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A/N: this chapter was plot heavy, I know, however it was crucial to give you guys some background information so that I can better build tension. the beautiful dividers were created by @ kitsunecafe!
Characters: Jake, Quaritch, Tonowari, Tsu’tey
Warnings: None
Jake Sully
Jealousy level; pretty low. He’s a fairly confident man who knows that you are his, but that doesn’t mean he’ll just let others flirt with you. He’ll put his arm over your shoulder, his back straight as he does his best to appear strong and steadfast. He won’t tell the person off. Jake will inject himself in the conversation, holding you close and putting in a “isn’t that right, sweetheart?” here and there.
He’ll tease you about the situation later, betraying that it does bother him a little bit. “Seems like you made a new friend today,” “You would think you have honey on your ass from the way he was following you,”. When you settle on his lap with a smile, it’s clear that you see through him. He’ll sigh in defeat before shrugging his shoulders and pulling you against him, his jealousy quickly forgotten as he is the one who holds you in his arms at the end of the day.
Miles Quaritch
Jealously level; high. Miles is a possessive man who doesn’t like people ogling what’s his. Fuck, he can’t blame them, you being the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, but that doesn’t matter. He’s not opposed to hitting someone square in the face if they stare at you too long, nor will he apologize for it. “What? That fool should mind where his eyes wander.”
Him constantly hovering around you to make sure you are safe also allows him to see every little thing, which is not good for his sanity. Some days it feels like he’s pulling you aside every few minutes, his ears pinned against the sides of his head as he kissed you angrily. He needs to feel you, needs to assure himself that you want him. Blowing off some steam that way allows him to calm down a bit, and saves others some nasty bruises.
Tonowari
Jealousy level; medium. Tonowari has that quiet but intense type of jealousy. He’ll watch something happen from a distance. A look that crosses your conversation partner’s face, or a touch to your arm or hand that’s just slightly too familiar. He won’t approach, won’t say a word. He’ll watch and wait for the person to come anywhere near him afterwards. When they do, he’ll grab onto their arm, and stare. The normally kind chief can give an angry stare that would shake even the toughest soldier. He doesn’t need to say a word, holding the other’s eyes for a minute before letting go of them with a slight push. The message is clear; don’t come close to my mate.
Tonowari won’t mention it to you, his jealousy only noticeable because of all the extra affection he shows you. He’ll give you a massage, kiss all over your body and give you one compliment after the other.
Tsu’tey
Jealousy level; high. After everything this man has lost he definitely has some abandonment issues. When someone else expresses interest you, Tsu’tey panics and lashes out. He’ll jump the other, pressing a knife to their throat as he makes it clear you are his mate, and the only way they’ll ever get to you is over his dead body. It takes him a long time of laying in your arms afterwards before he can calm down again, his breathing rapid and his muscles tense. His fear is clear to you, and if you do your best to comfort him and give him physical affection, he’ll stare up at you with such intense loving that it makes your heart hurt.
JUST GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK OKAY.
omg a few days ago I was googling if Vermithor and Silverwing were mates, and the answer that came up said something like, they are together just like their riders. And I was like wait. When do Ulf and Hugh get married??😭😭
MIND OVER MATTER.
+ . jacaerys velaryon x f!reader
part two to 'sacrifice'.
synopsis. you return to jacaerys. a gift from the gods.
3 + . contents. canon-divergent. no use of y/n or any variation. mentions of violence. heavy angst. no comfort. hurt. descriptions of torturous aftermaths. 3.2k words.
Warm firelight bathes the sharp and strong features of the prince, dark brows furrowed so tightly that the crease between them may become permanent. There’s a drowsiness in his eyelids and yet his mind is louder than the storm that rages outside of the stone walls. Shifting on his shoes, his strong hand fidgets and shifts along the smoothness of the hilt of his sword as he watches the flames burn at the wood and lick along the stone walls it’s confined to. Hand so tight along the smooth leather and grooves that he may just snap the hilt itself. In his other hand he gently smoothes his hand along a hairpin, pretty with a dangling flower off a chain of silver and made of glass. Jacaerys’s dark almond eyes slowly flutter shut and he inhales through his nose with a tight jaw, head throbbing and stomach feeling hollow.
It’s been two months.
Two months. Jacaerys hasn’t seen you in two months, he hasn’t heard a word in two months. Jacaerys swallows thickly as a stinging moves through his nose and his hand tightens around the hilt of his sword while the other eases around the glass hairpin. You should have returned to him already. You should have returned, come back to him so he might be stronger and less of a coward as he had so promised. So Jacaerys could do what he’d been too weak to do so many times before. Yet, it’s been two months. So much has happened and you’re still gone.
Heavy doors open and Jacaerys’s eyes open, broad shoulders stiffen and he blinks away the stinging in his eyes. Slowly, he straightens up and conceals the hairpin beneath his dark sleeve. Gentle footsteps and the soft brush of fabric against stone, Jacaerys listens to the footsteps of his mother and the sound of her setting down supper onto the table within his quarters. Jacaerys is wordless, he doesn’t look away from the flames. Silence is thick, heavy, he awaits her departure but he knows her, his mother. So, she never leaves.
Instead, she speaks.
“Please eat.”
And Jacaerys wishes she’d care less, then he’d feel less guilt over the ruin this is bringing him. The ruin of his affections and his…love may bring this war that he’s meant to be entirely focused on. Yet, all he can think about is you. You. You. Fucking you. In no response, Rhaenyra’s footsteps grow closer and Jacaerys looks away from the flames when his mother suddenly steps before him. Her hands reach out but his boots step back and his hilt is grasped even tighter.
“Mother.” Jacaerys says as a warning. He loves her. He doesn’t wish to snap at her or say things in harsh blindness as he’s been doing all too often during this war. Especially as of late. Jacaerys’s eyes screwed shut and he finally releases the hilt, his hand coming up when he makes the mistake of looking at her porcelain face of love and concern for her sweet boy. Grooves line the inside of his hand from the design of his hilt and his fingers shake, he’s so tense he’s trembling. “Please.” The word comes far less firm and stiff, it comes pathetic and desperate. Begging her to not break what he’s been so horribly holding together.
Rhaenyra’s brows sew up, her eyes flickering along the face of one stricken by grief before a death. The Queen exhales deeply as Jacaerys slowly lowers his hand and she presses her hands over her stomach. “My sweet boy…this–you cannot let what we do not know bring you to your knees.” Rhaenyra’s voice is soft, gentle and all the worse for Jacaerys. He tries to keep his burning gaze to the floor, but he weakens again in the atmosphere of his mother’s comfort and love. Dark eyes look at her beautiful light ones and his jaw tenses as she shakes her head. “We do not know of her fate, she would not wish to see you like this. I cannot bear to see you like this.”
“Like what?” Jacaerys asks as if he does not know.
“Like a shell of my boy.” Rhaenyra replies swiftly, her brows sewing up and eyes squinting in an almost pained way. Jacaerys swallows thickly, his hand running down his face as he turns away and slowly walks over to the supper. Thumbs smooth dark circles and sweep slightly sunken cheeks. Jacaerys’s eyes look at the food and his stomach curls in disgust, what if you’re starving somewhere? What if you’ve starved? “There are still loyalists seeking her, Jacaerys.” His mother tries with a soft tone, a gentle one as he picks up a piece of bread and holds it in the hand not occupied by the glass hair pin.
“Do you remember what I was like when we first met, mother?” Jacaerys speaks softly, quietly, his brows twitching as he holds the bread in his hand. Glancing at the Queen, Rhaenyra’s expression softens and the hint of a smile on her pink lips brings a hint to that of Jacaerys’s. But it makes his stomach all the more sick as he nods gently. “She has been my closest friend since I was a boy. She’s proved herself loyal to me, to you – to us since…since before there was a loyalty to be deserving of. I wish she weren’t such.” Jacaerys’s eyes screw shut and he swallows thickly. “I wish she would betray us, I wish she would stab me in the back, I hope and pray to the Gods that she were more selfish, more disloyal, dishonorable I–”
“Jacaerys.” Rhaenyra breathes out.
Jacaerys shakes his head and drops the bread crushed into crumbs along the plate. And he inhales shakily, he looks down and unsheathes the glass hair pin. That stinging in his eyes has grown worse, his vision blurring as the little glass flower gently sways off the chain. “L–Luce–” Jacaerys voice grows choked as he looks down and his vision blurs further. “H-He gave this to her. An expression of gratitude for all she did when we were still children. So many times I’ve tried to get her to wear it, Baela’s tried the same – after h–he…” Jacaerys trails off. “We stopped but…I still remember why she refused to wear it. She told me so confidently that she wanted to wear it for my coronation.” And Jacaerys inhales shakily, footsteps coming towards him.
The moment Rhaenyra’s hand touches his arm, Jacaerys sets the glass pin onto the table and embraces her with a choked sob. Rhaenyra holds him as she did not long ago in mourning her son and his brother. Jacaerys clings to her gown and shakes his head. “I could not stand it, m-mother – blood sheds in war but mine own and that of mine heart…two at once, for us…” Jacaerys sobs into her neck, his mother gently swaying him while holding him close as if he’s still just a little boy that needs his mother. Rhaenyra’s expression is one of pain as she holds him close.
For a while Jacaerys seeks comfort in his mother, then they talk about the recents events together – nothing too touchy, they are not privileged yet to truly and fully mourn – and Rhaenyra eats with Jacaerys.
It’s an hour and some later when the doors suddenly open, bursting practically. Jacaerys and Rhaenyra look at Baela, panting with wide eyes. “Baela, is all well?” Jacaerys asks with immediate worry.
Jacaerys nearly crumbles at the words to leave her lips.
“She has returned.”
It feels as if all the blood in his body is cold. It doesn’t feel as if Jacaerys is of his own mind or body – his soul and heart racing him down the corridors to follow Baela as Queen Rhaenyra leaves to notify Rhaena. Jacaerys is quick, dark curls bouncing and moving as he follows the sound of instructions tossed at sworn guards from the maester sworn to Rhaenyra. Cold winds from the open walls and windows bring an iciness to once warm skin, but Jacaerys can feel nothing. Nothing but an anticipation and overwhelming sense of fear of what he might face.
Quick hands catch Baela when the followerer to that of the maester extends his hand to stop Baela from grabbing the handle of the door. The guard shakes his head after a formal bow, his brow beaded in sweat and tan skin a bit red against the heavy armor he adorns. “Forgive me, your graces, but the maester has given strict instructions to not allow anyone within the chambers – her guard may be infected with a contagious fever.” Jacaerys’s eyes widen and he feels himself ease back into his body, he looks to Baela who silently urges him to cling onto some semblance of patience or hope.
But Jacaerys knows with fevers, death is always almost certain – and he must know of all that happened, he must see you one last time. He couldn’t say goodbye to Lucerys, he will not find his opportunity lost with you.
Jacaerys pulls back Baela with a gentle touch of her wrist and his dark eyes meet her rounded ones. “Oblige the instructions of the maester, no one shall enter.” Baela can see the resolve in his face and she inhales deeply, her brows sewing up as she nods and gently squeezes his hand holding her wrist before she steps away. Immediately, the prince turns to grab the door but the guard steps in front of it and Jacaerys looks at him with soft breaths and wide, incredulous eyes as the loud sound of servants in the chambers come through the heavy door.
“My prince, I cannot risk your–”
“I am the prince – you are sworn to my blood. Let. Me. Through.” Jacaerys’s voice is hard and thick as his eyes burn into the gaze of the guard. The guard, clearly taken aback, seems to hesitate. Jacaerys can feel him pondering whether he fears the heir or the Queen more, how would the Queen feel about her son possibly being exposed to a horrid fever? Jacaerys can’t seem to care. He doesn’t. And thankfully, he wins. The guard quickly steps aside. Jacaerys nods. “Thank you, Ser.” And Jacaerys enters the chambers untouched yet closest to the entrance of the castle.
The sound of the maester ordering the servants fills the air, the old man hunching over the bed and for the first time in two months, over eight weeks, over sixty days, one-thousand four-hundred and sixty hours, over five million seconds – Jacaerys’s eyes fall to you. His expression hard and his entire body going numb, a servant rushing to him to place a precautionary cloth around his face and Jacaerys merely allows it to happen as he watches you laid down and being tended to with a quickness.
Your face is filthy. Covered in smudge and dirt, hair the same and matted so severely that it’s being cut off. Beneath unconsciousness, being stripped of your dirtied clothes that were not the ones you left Dragonstone in, Jacaerys feels sick suddenly. Lashes cover your back, flesh risen and scabbing over with signs of infection in some green to match that of the bruises on your face and flesh. Jacaerys stumbles backwards, a hand going to his heart that feels it may just give out and he turns around.
Emptying the contents of his first true meal in two months into a glass vase, he screws his eyes shut as the scent of the dungeons burns into the room.
Soon, Jacaerys is given everything he must know while alongside his mother and cousins.
A guard of the Keep was assigned to watch you when you were discovered – you were stupid. You stupidly tried to help a woman being given a public lashing and what did you get? Recognized and imprisoned. It wasn’t enough to be imprisoned, plenty of the cunt usurper’s came to visit you but Jacaerys could hardly stomach the knowledge that Aegon saw to you the most. The guard to help you escape, unable to handle the cruelties of the usurper Aegon against a woman of honor and loyalty, recounted to Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Jacaerys all you had gone through in those two months.
Every horrid detail.
Jacaerys was nearly going to kill himself. To fly to King’s Landing and bring Aegon’s head to be the centerpiece of a grand feast. But it was during the loud chaos of attempting to keep the prince at bay that the guard offered something – something that was enough to make Jacaerys settle.
Your words. One of the long conversations you had with the guard, one conversation after a bad set of lashing that left you drooling and hunched over a bale of hay with your torn dress bloodied and dirty. The guard says he had asked you why you did not merely give Aegon what he wanted, why you did not tell them what the Queen was planning, why you did not kill yourself, why you did not agree to be the best sword beside that of the Kinslayer Aemond Targaryen. Jacaerys could hear your voice in his head rather than the guard’s when he offered your response.
“I know I will see him again…I could not look in his eye if I were to ever give these true bastards what they desire, so I will not. Because I know that someday…I will see my Jacaerys again.”
The maester had delivered the news of your condition. Needless to say it wasn’t well. Starved enough to keep you in agony yet fed enough to keep you alive, beaten more often than not, and used by more than just the usurper cunt and given moon tea so many times you are all but promised to never bare a child. But the maester said there was no fever, no flu – that the only thing anyone could do now is to wait. To wait and to not let the task be in vain, for a guard of the Keep that’d been close to the King was now in their palm.
But Jacaerys – try as he might – couldn’t care, not about being ordered to find rest and eat and every other thing he could not do and not about anything else. The next night, when all are silent and the guards are patrolling where they should, he went to your chambers. He had to see you.
Now here Jacaerys sits, at the edge of your bed and looking over you with tears falling down his cheeks and body stiff. You look ghostly. That warmth and brightness gone and replaced by a splash of hideous colors to be a reminder of what you faced. You’re more white bandages than skin. Jacaerys swallows thickly as he sniffles and shifts on the seat, shaking his head when a tear finally falls and he reaches out. Strong hands are gentle, treating your hand like the glass hair pin and cradling it between his hands. You’re cold yet sweaty.
Inhaling shakily, Jacaerys swallows thickly and he shakes his head. His eyes trace your features, your hair, and he forces a smile as hot tears roll down his cheeks. “You will go mad once you awake and see your hair.” Jacaerys whispers out softly. His thumb smoothes your knuckles and flesh of your hand. “Once, I hardly even cut an inch as a foolish little joke of a young boy trying to get the attention of a strong girl and you nearly made me bite my own heart with your punch.” He laughs softly, sniffling as he nods and looks down at your hand in his. “I must apologize as well for going through your things in your absence. I–wanted to find your hair pin, to keep it safe. It–is.” Jacaerys nods stiffly as his eyes trace hair choppy and cut, wet from the bed bath you’d been given.
“Oh and–I have already ordered a surplus of your fruit you so love.” Jacaerys nods, his eyes shooting back down to your hand. “I–whenever I fell ill you…you would bring me chocolates. You would not let me eat them though, no.” The prince swallows the lump in his throat that simply forms again as blurry vision trains on your hand. “No, you told me that the chocolates were to be my reason to get better sooner. You told me that if I could not get better, I would never taste chocolate again. Then you w-would jest and pretend to eat them when I–would refuse my medicine or the help of the maester. I think the chocolates were my remedy.” Jacaerys’s voice breaks off as his smile falters and shakes, his hands smoothing along your hand.
“Or perhaps you were my remedy.” He whispers quietly.
And Jacaerys looks at your face. The bruising along your face, the cuts, the bandaging and bandages – Jacaerys swallows thickly and he shakes his head with a hard and deep sniff.
“So, you m-must be quick. You must get better, lest the fruit rots. O-Or I will eat all of it. The crates of it. You m-must get better, you m–must awake please–please a-aw–” Jacaerys’s voice breaks off into chokes sobs, his head falling forward to press his forehead against your knuckles. The prince’s body shakes and jumps in pure agony and pain as he holds your hand. Kissing your knuckles and along the inners of your palms, up your fingertips, pleading and begging fills the air with his chokes sobs. “Wake up for me – do not leave me…d-do not–”
It’s sometime before Jacaerys finds slumber, head throbbing, eyes puffy, and throat aching as he slouches in slumber in the seat beside your bed. His hand holding yours, pinkies interlocked. Well, his with yours.
It’s his first full-night’s rest since your departure.
The prince slowly stirs sometime later, his brows twitching and his head foggy from the ache that comes with sobbing and crying for hours on end. In his head he can hear the soft sound of your voice calling him, the scent of medicinals and herbs staining his nose as he shifts his face on the surface of soft bedding. Hunched over now and asleep against the edge of his bed, his hand still feels your skin and Jacaerys fights consciousness. He fights consciousness to cling to his dreams of you being well and alive in his arms, not incapacitated and broken on a bed. Each mark is a remnant of what Jacaerys did to you, how he should have stopped you, done anything to prevent you leaving.
Waking up in his chambers, Jacaerys is slightly annoyed to have been moved from you but his neck and body is relieved. Sighing heavily and rubbing at his eyes, Jacaerys shifts to the edge of his bed and runs a hand over messy curls. Pondering over what he should bring you from your own quarters to make the unfamiliar room more comfortable for you, he stands and he makes his way over to his wardrobe for fresh clothes. Just in case you wake up. But the sound of his heavy doors opening stops him and he turns.
His eyes fall to Baela’s. His cousin holding bated breaths and in her hand a rolled letter, she swallows thickly and rapid blinks barely conceal the glassiness of her eyes. Jacaerys feels his heart sink to his shoes. "Cousin..." Baela breathes softly. "I--am so sorry."
Rest doesn’t come easy ever again for the young prince. And the fruit rots. Just as you did.
Whoever lied about HBO making a Tom Riddle series better sleep with one eye open...
Ulf, please... The second hand embarrassment is real
Them: ONly LAnniStERs haVE BeeF wiTh ChILDren.
Daemon with Oscar:
MANNY JACINTO + tumblr/reddit/twitter/tik tok text posts
Making out with them
Mattheo Riddle
His pupils are blown wide with lust, and the look that he's giving you is making you go crazy.
One of his hands are wrapped around your throat to keep you in place and the other digs into the flesh of your butt.
Between heavy kisses he whispers about how insane you make him, how he'd do anything for you.
Theodore Nott
You're pulled onto Theo's lap, his hands around your waist, and your fingers dug into his brown hair.
His mouth tastes of cigarettes and lime, and once he bites into your bottom lip, copper.
He gives you a small, cocky grin as you pull away with a pout on your lips.
Tom Riddle
You're sat sideways atop Tom's lap. You're both sitting on a couch, and a book lays besides you both that Tom was reading before you'd come in to keep him company.
One of Tom's arms are wrapped around your waist to keep you from falling and the other on the back of your neck.
His hand soon makes its way up your head and is enveloped in your hair as he forces you to tilt your head back for him so that he can press his lips against your throat.
hi nirvani!!
is it possible to have jareth dealing with a stressed out reader, and i mean like theyre sobbing into the bedsheets?
ive just had a really stressful week and id love some jareth comfort
thank you!!
big fan!!!
Jareth The Goblin King x Stressed!Reader
He rests your head on his lap, caressing your head, trying to get you to talk about what’s giving you so much stress.
“Darling, you can tell me what’s wrong.”
If you have a problem, he tries to help you fix it.
He does whatever you want to get you to relax/less stressed.
He’ll take you on a walk through the garden, his hand on your back.
Or if you just want to sit in bed, he’ll do just that with you.
He tries to make you laugh as well. Making fun of one of the goblins or even saying something silly about himself.
She/her. Requests are OPEN for Tom Riddle and Aemond Targaryen! Rude=Blocked.FREE PALESTINEReality shifter, writer, and reader.
241 posts