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sansaorgana · 25 days

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— THROWN TO THE WOLVES (X)

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX PART SEVEN || PART EIGHT || PART NINE

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader // Atreides!OC

SUMMARY — Muad'Dib's forces attack the palace during the imperial visit on Arrakis. The new Baroness Harkonnen must face her past and choose her future.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is Paul Atreides’ half-sister. A month ago (March 6th) I went to the cinema to watch Dune: Part Two and I stayed up until 3am to write the very first chapter of this fic despite having morning classes on the next day. 🙈 I couldn't have known back then what a journey this would be and how many lovely and amazing readers would be so engaged in this story! 💕 This is the final part – but I am willing to write additional one-shots with these characters in the future. Thank you everyone who suggested me the baby names. I went with the idea commented by @alexandrainlove since it made sense to me due to the fact I have already used the name before in this fic. I loved all your recommendations, though! 🥰 Also, I want to credit @houserautha for pointing out that the thick Harkonnen blood (as I have described it in this fic) would actually be an advantage in combat because it would make bleeding out to death more difficult. I know some of you might be disappointed or sad about some events in the last chapter – I decided to go with my original plan for it because, at the end of the day, I can't possibly please everyone anyway. I loved all your ideas and assumptions, though, they made me rethink my plans many times. Love you! 💗

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, blood, violent behaviour, death, murder, childbirth

WORD COUNT — 12,780 (😳)

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THROWN TO THE WOLVES (X)

You watched the imperial ships land through the window with anticipation and anxiety. They were huge and covered in imperial sigils, now covered with the sand and spice. The symbols of power and influence – a reminder of your whole existence being reduced to the subject and a servant.

Escorted by the guards, you walked down the corridors to greet the guests. Your husband stayed inside to call upon other leaders of the galaxy. Feyd feared that the Emperor had arrived on Arrakis to once again take it from the Harkonnens because of some whim. He wouldn’t let that happen, especially now when it was the first day of his rule as The Baron. Losing such an important planet on the beginning of his reign was a political suicide. But The Harkonnens were in possession of an imperial secret that the Emperor wouldn’t want anyone else to know – his troops had been used to kill the members of the House Atreides… your family. Having other galactic leaders knowing that would mean the end of the Emperor and Feyd-Rautha would not hesitate to threaten him if he was about to take Arrakis from you.

You had just found out that secret and pretended it had not bothered you at all when you walked down the corridor to go outside, accompanied by the guards, with your hand clasped on your abdomen and chin held up high. However, realising the Emperor’s true nature had given you some sort of fighting spirit.

You stood and awaited to face him – The Emperor. The man who was responsible for the death of your family. The next goal of your ambitious game…?

You watched the first men walk out of the imperial ship. The Sardaukar fanatic soldiers caused a shiver to go down your spine. Your few Harkonnen guards suddenly started to feel like little mice locked in a cage with a bunch of fat cats. You almost overlooked The Padishah Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV. He was older and weaker than you had expected and remembered from his visits on Caladan. At the sight of him, your mind filled with intrusive thoughts of how easy it would be to simply… get rid of him.

The Sardaukar soldier’s loud and powerful salute at their Emperor made you shake those thoughts off. Then you spotted two women leaving the ship as well and you started to feel sick when you noticed Bene Gesserit’s Reverend Mother dressed all in black with a veil covering her face.

But you’d recognise her everywhere. You remembered when Lady Jessica had walked you out of your birthday party after turning sixteen. She had taken you to a dark room where this very Reverend Mother had been waiting. Your humanity had been tested in the Gom Jabbar and never before nor after you had experienced such pain in your life. The Reverend Mother had looked at Lady Jessica and uttered out only three words to describe you.

Human… but weak.

You hadn’t gone back to the party. Instead, you had spent the rest of the night by your mother’s grave where your father had eventually found you.

You had been hoping to never see that woman ever again in your life. But here she was now, once again testing you on such a special day as the beginning of your reign.

The other woman was much younger. It was Princess Irulan, daughter of the Emperor. You looked deep into her eyes and she stared back, widening hers. Her dress looked like armour, too.

You had met her only once where you two were children. You had been playing together but she had been very upset at the fact that you had been holding the same title.

“I am not as important as you are, Irulan,” you had been trying to explain to her. “Duke’s daughter is called a Princess but our ranks are not equal. You are an Imperial Princess.”

“I should be the only Princess in the galaxy,” Irulan had pouted at you.

You approached the delegation and bowed down. Technically, you should be kneeling but the late Baron Harkonnen had taught you a few things before his pathetic end. One of them was to always remind the Emperor of the power the Harkonnens were holding. To treat him more as if he was an equal than a superior. You commanded an army bigger than him and your wealth was much more impressive.

“Your Imperial Highness,” you looked up at him and straightened your back. He was staring at you and furrowing his brows, most likely surprised that you were greeting him alone with only a few guards. “Your visit is an honour to us,” you added. “Sadly, we experienced a great loss last night as Muad’Dib’s forces assassinated our beloved late Baron Vladimir Harkonnen,” you faked a shiver of your voice. “Forgive the new Baron,my husband, for not coming out with me to greet you, Your Imperial Highness. He is very busy with his new duties and obligations,” you explained.

The Reverend Mother leaned into the Emperor's ear and whispered something to him. You didn’t like that at all. But he only nodded and raised a hand at his guards to keep following him as he approached you slowly.

“I am very sorry to hear about your loss, Baroness Harkonnen, Duchess Atreides,” he addressed you elegantly and you bowed down again. Once he joined you, you began to walk side by side. His daughter and the Bene Gesserit followed very closely.

“Thank you, Your Imperial Highness,” you faked the sadness of your smile.

“The reason for my visit is the man you have mentioned… Muad’Dib,” he added and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, I am aware that we have not caught him yet but now, after last night’s events… I am sure my husband will do everything in his power to avenge his uncle’s death. Muad’Dib’s days are numbered, Your Imperial Highness,” you tried to assure him. “He is nothing but a terrorist. Not only he slayed our late Baron but also some of the servants and most of the guards.”

“What a miracle that is that you and your husband were spared,” The Emperor pointed out and you could swear that there was a shadow of a smirk on his face.

“Prepare the throne room for The Emperor,” you looked at the servants approaching you and they nodded before running away as fast as possible with their heads held low. Then you turned around to look at The Emperor again. “Not lucky, no. We just weren’t the main target. But I am sure he will be back for us.”

“Forgive me, Baroness, I need to rest after the long journey,” The Emperor nodded at you and you bowed down.

“My servants will show you to your rooms as the throne room is being prepared for you to use it when you are rested, Your Imperial Highness,” you told him and nodded at another pair of servants who had just approached you. “Please, do forgive us for our lack of preparations and today’s chaos.”

“It is quite understandable after such a tragedy,” he assured you and walked away with his daughter and some of the soldiers. The rest of The Sardaukar stayed inside to monitor the corridors.

You turned around, ready to go back to your husband when you almost bumped into The Reverend Mother who had stayed behind you.

“Excuse me,” you faked a smile and tried to walk past her but she stood in your way once again. “What seems to be the problem?” You asked.

“The child inside you was not a part of our breeding program,” she stated casually. You felt your son moving as if he knew she was talking about him. You put your hand on your swollen womb protectively.

“I do not care about your breeding program, with all respect. I just want to give House Harkonnen a male heir,” you explained.

“The child is too powerful,” she told you but her words did not make you proud. They sounded too sinister to take it as a compliment.

“In what way?” You raised an eyebrow. “Am I not weak, Reverend Mother?”

“The Harkonnen medics have overdone themselves, Baroness. Your child does not only have all the best genetic material of your flesh and mind… but of all the Atreides and the Harkonnen families. He will be an unstoppable force if trained properly,” the woman whispered.

“I have already promised you a daughter… under certain conditions. I am not giving you a son,” you hissed.

“That is the point, Baroness. It is a shame your child is a son. But do keep going… If the Harkonnen medics are so advanced already, I cannot wait for the daughter you will give us,” you could spot a smile under the veil as your jaw clenched.

“If I were you, I would fear the day she is born,” you nodded at her and walked away. This time she allowed you to, but she kept staring at you until you disappeared behind the corner to go back to Feyd and tell him about the reason for The Emperor’s sudden visit.

“I have brought back the spice production to full efficiency, Your Imperial Highness,” Feyd explained himself as he was looking up at The Emperor sitting on the Arrakis’ throne with his daughter and The Reverend Mother standing beside him. He had been questioning your husband for the last fifteen minutes, as if it was really an interrogation which would decide whether he should keep governing Arrakis or not.

“Have you, Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen? Or has your late uncle done that?” The Emperor asked.

You were standing a step behind your husband, with your head kept low and your hands clasped on your abdomen, playing a dutiful wife. You knew that showing off your power and influence in front of The Emperor would only make Feyd look even weaker in his eyes.

“He was a great help but I was The Governor of Arrakis, with all respect,” Feyd answered, trying to hide his anger and frustration.

“And what about that idiot brother of yours?”

“Count Rabban has been dismissed. He’s on his way to Giedi Prime now, Your Imperial Highness,” Feyd nodded.

“His problems with the spice production were a result of the activity of the mysterious Muad’Dib… You still haven’t caught him either, have you, Baron Harkonnen?” The Emperor hummed to himself. “And last night he slaughtered your uncle, so I’ve been told… Tell me, what do you know about him?”

“He’s one of the Fremen, I assume. A leader of a terrorist group with great influence,” Feyd explained.

“And you, Baroness?” The Emperor addressed you and you looked up, too, surprised to be included. “I have been told of your influence in the House Harkonnen. Do not play a shy mouse with me.”

You smiled nervously at his words and bowed down slightly.

“I did not mean to play anything, Your Imperial Highness. Please, do forgive me for my sombre mood today after last night’s tragic events…” You batted your eyelashes at him and took a step forward. Now you were arm to arm with your husband. “I do not know more than The Baron about Muad’Dib,” you added as your heart pounded in your chest.

“Liar!” The Reverend Mother exclaimed suddenly and the whole room went silent. Feyd turned his head around to squint his eyes at you and with the corner of your own you spotted a hint of sense of betrayal upon his face.

“I am not a liar, Your Imperial Highness,” you shook your head. “I can not know for certain.”

“But you do have your assumptions,” The Reverend Mother pointed out and you swallowed thickly, feeling the weight of this secret on your shoulders.

“I am suspecting that Muad’Dib might be my brother… Prince Paul Atreides,” you whispered.

“The Atreides are all dead,” Feyd drawled through gritted teeth. “That is impossible.”

“So I thought,” you nodded. “But Paul has been haunting my dreams since the first night I came here. After some time I started to realise that they might not be dreams at all… More like visions. He has been communicating with me and it appears to me now that he might have survived in the desert after The Harkonnen invasion,” you avoided looking into anyone’s eyes.

“Why haven’t you told me about those visions?” Your husband’s voice was full of anger and betrayal and it surprised you how much you hated to make him feel this way. After all, you two were supposed to always play on the same team.

“Because I thought they hold no significance,” you finally dared to look into his eyes again. “What does it change who he truly is? And I could not be sure anyway.”

“Why would Paul Atreides communicate with Baroness Harkonnen?” Princess Irulan asked and you looked at her. “Do not misunderstand me, my Lady, but you are no Bene Gesserit. You hold no telepathic power like that.”

“He is not communicating with her,” The Reverend Mother pointed out. “He is communicating with her son. Because if Muad’Dib is as powerful as they say that he is now, then Baroness’ unborn child is the only person who can stop him.”

“Stop him how?” You asked with furrowed brows.

“Your child’s powers are not yet fully known but his presence might be interrupting Muad’Dib’s foreseeing abilities,” she explained.

“Foreseeing abilities?” The Emperor moved uncomfortably on the throne. “What exactly are we dealing with?!”

The timing of those words was not of the best kind as a loud booming sound from the outside reached your ears. Startled by it, you grabbed Feyd’s arm to squeeze it.

“My Lord! My Lady!” One of the engineers from the conference room ran inside, breathing heavily with his eyes widened, not even caring about The Emperor’s presence. “The Fremen… They are using The Atreides’ nuclear weapons to attack us and they are coming at us… Hundreds of them… Thousands… All united as they’re waving The Atreides flags.”

“Duchess Atreides, care to explain?” The Emperor asked you and you looked at him as if he was crazy.

“I’ve had nothing to do with that!” You denied. “I haven’t even been told where my father had hidden the Atreides nuclear weapons. If I had known, they’d be used against the Fremen long time ago, Your Imperial Highness,” you stated.

“It’s Muad’Dib,” The Reverend Mother said. “As he promised to come.”

“Wait, you had an agreement with him?” You asked her but she remained silent. “I thought you wanted him dead.”

“We were curious about him, Baroness,” The Emperor informed you. “We were supposed to have negotiations.”

Another booming sound made you shiver as the walls around you trembled.

“Negotiations, you say,” you drawled. “There you have them,” you pointed at the door. “We don’t have enough guards to protect us from this sort of attack, even with your Sardaukar soldiers, Your Imperial Highness! Most of them were slain last night.”

“And whose was the hand that slayed them?!” The Emperor yelled and you tried to keep your poker face on but you hated the feeling of fear creeping up on you. You thought you would never be afraid again in your life.

But now you were afraid. You were afraid of the Muad’Dib forces outside the palace and you were afraid of The Emperor sitting on a throne above you. He was an old and weak man but his power was still strong enough to cause you harm, especially with his fanatic soldiers surrounding you in the room.

“Fear not,” an odd, unfamiliar voice filled your brain. You furrowed your brow and looked around, trying to reach for the person trying to communicate with you. However, the voice was deep and raspy in a Harkonnen way. It reminded you of Feyd’s but his face looked pretty oblivious. “Fear not, mother,” the voice spoke again and you gasped.

The Emperor thought that you gasped because of his accusation, though.

“I do not care about The Harkonnen’s inside affairs,” he informed you angrily. “However, now we’re all paying the price of your last night’s selfish act!”

You didn’t know what to feel or do. You were overwhelmed with anxiety and the new discovery of your son’s voice being able to communicate with you. The booming sounds were becoming more and more frequent and the Harkonnen guards formed a circle around you and The Emperor alongside the Sardaukar soldiers.

You hid behind Feyd and dug your fingernails into his shoulder. Some part of you wished Muad’Dib was indeed Paul Atreides. Well, he had to be since they were using the Atreides nuclear weapons and flags. Your own brother would not kill you, would he?

He would understand that everything you had done, you had done to survive. If he had survived in that desert, he would understand everything.

The Emperor, Princess Irulan and The Reverend Mother walked down to stand beside you so the soldier’s circle around you could tighten.

“Can you hear me?” You thought.

“All the time,” your son answered and you smiled slightly to yourself.

It was a comforting thought to know that.

“Is that true that you’re able to stop Paul?” You asked inside your mind.

“I can try,” he answered.

“Your voice reminds me so much of your father’s,” you kept talking to him and distracting yourself from the sight of the doors being stormed as a horde of Fremen was trying to get inside the room with the sound of explosions in the distance.

“I am his son,” he answered very seriously and you almost chuckled at the fact he was clearly as rigid as Feyd – so logical and stiff even as an unborn baby.

“Yes, you are, my darling,” your hand, placed protectively on your swollen womb, squeezed the flesh through the dress’ fabric and that was when the doors opened with a loud bang sound and for a short while you thought you would die on Arrakis indeed, where your father’s bones already remained somewhere in the desert. Perhaps it was The Atreides’ fate to die on Arrakis.

But, after all, you were a Harkonnen.

You had not been attacked, though. Once your guards had been defeated, you were all taken to one of the rooms and locked there with the Fremen guards outside ensuring you would not escape. You were waiting for Muad’Dib’s forces to take over the whole palace as you were basically his captives.

Sitting on a chair with Feyd crouching down by your side, you were worried sick about Astra and Cara. You hoped that the Fremen wouldn’t hurt the servants but seeing their brutality and barbaric ways, you weren’t so sure about it. The Emperor was sitting, too, and staring at you with his eyes squinted.

“If that really is your brother, Duchess Atreides…” he started.

“Then what, Your Imperial Highness?” You snapped at him. When his dangerous guards were defeated, he was just an old, weak man and no threat to you. Feyd would slit his throat in half a second.

If he had a knife. But it had been taken away from him and surprisingly, he had been pretty obedient about it. You were grateful because you did not want to watch him getting slaughtered by a whole bunch of Fremen. He was a great warrior but every person had their limits of how many opponents they could take at the same time.

Your knife had not been taken, though. As a woman – especially pregnant – you hadn’t been searched properly and you hadn’t brought up the fact that you had a knife strapped to your hip under all the folds of your dress. Even Feyd didn’t know about it and you wanted it to remain this way. You hoped that you wouldn’t have to use it but you couldn’t be sure and it was better to keep it a secret.

“I can’t be responsible for his behaviour just because I am Duchess Atreides,” you reminded The Emperor.

“If Muad’Dib is really Paul Atreides then you are no Duchess Atreides, Baroness Harkonnen,” The Emperor reminded you. “His actions speak for your House then, not yours.”

“My House is Harkonnen,” you only barked at him and turned your face around to Feyd. You held his hand and he leaned in to place a kiss upon your forehead, sensing your nervousness.

“What kind of fighter is your brother?” He asked you in a whisper but everyone could hear him.

“He was bad last time I saw him. Weak and pathetic in combat,” you answered. “But now he is different. He’s been training a lot.”

“How can you know that?” Princess Irulan looked at you, intrigued.

“If we believe my visions, I know he’s been training. If he is Muad’Dib, we don’t even have to believe my visions. Muad’Dib is the only name my brother-in-law fears and he’s the one called Beast Rabban,” you told her.

“He is an abomination,” The Reverend Mother spoke up, “in a different, worse way than the spawn inside you, Baroness Harkonnen.”

“What did you call my son?” Feyd’s muscles tensed.

“Calm down, Baron, she knows what I’m talking about,” the old woman was not bothered by making him angry. “Your son might be the only hope for us. He is interfering Muad’Dib’s foreseeing abilities.”

“I do not like the way you speak of it as if it’s all certain,” The Emperor joined. “If that is true, then I wish I had known about it sooner.”

“Father, there are some secrets that shall be kept even from you,” his daughter tried to calm him down.

“I disagree.”

“We shouldn’t fight now,” you interrupted them. “If we want to survive, we have to work together.”

“And what do you propose, Baroness?” The Emperor asked you with a contemptuous smirk. “He’s a madman, your brother.”

“So is my husband,” you raised your chin proudly. “And do not underestimate me, Your Imperial Highness, as I am the madman’s sister.”

The doors opened loudly and the Fremen warriors looked at all of you with visible contempt that made a shiver go down your body.

“Muad’Dib wishes to see you,” one of them barked at you.

Feyd helped you to stand up and you were taken to one of the rooms upstairs with a balcony and a beautiful view. The sun was setting slowly and giving the whole chamber an orange hue.

Gurney Halleck was the first man you recognised. He was standing in the middle of the room and waiting for you. You honestly hadn’t expected him to survive The Harkonnen invasion.

Seeing your father’s Warmaster broke something in you. It was as if the young Princess Atreides bloomed once again inside your rotten heart. After all, he had known you ever since you were a little girl.

“Gurney!” You smiled and ran up to him, not caring much about Feyd’s hands trying to stop you. The Fremen soldiers reached for their knives but Halleck stopped them with a small gesture of his hand.

“Princess!” He smiled at the sight of you as well and opened his arms. You had never been close – not as close as he had been with your brother at least – but seeing him brought back all the memories and for a short while you thought that finally, after all those months surrounded by the Harkonnens… you were saved.

You hugged Gurney with a wide smile and he fixed a loose hair strand falling rebelliously on your forehead.

“Look at you, Princess… So mature now, aren’t you?” He asked in a whisper. There was pain in his eyes and it brought tears to your own.

He was sorry for you. But he was sorry in a different way than all those late Baron’s guests who had been looking at you as if you were a little, innocent, naive prey. He was Gurney, your Gurney and he had known you. You were his Princess. He was sorry for you because he knew who you had been and who you were supposed to be under different circumstances. He had known your heart. Your whims, your moods, your smiles, your laughter, your dreams, your kindness and your humour. He had known all of you.

And perhaps all this time you had been wanting for someone to be sorry for you. You didn’t want to be admired for your strength and ability to survive, for your cunning mind and your schemes. You just wanted someone to admit that a great pain had been inflicted upon you and it was unfair to happen to you and brought you nothing but suffering.

Before you could open your mouth and answer him, the doors opened and you gasped at the sight of Muad’Dib followed by the Bene Gesserit sisters.

You would recognise his silhouette and his walk everywhere. Your brother, Paul Atreides – it was really him.

Perhaps the shock was not as big as it would be because of the dreams you two had been sharing for the past few weeks.

But was it really your brother…? His hair was longer and curly now, no longer neatly combed, his eyes were blue from the spice and the way he wore his stillsuit felt nearly as if it was his second skin. You had never seen him so angry and confident, so ready to fight and so bloodthirsty.

The Bene Gesserit surrounded their most important one – sitting on a chair with her face covered in tattoos and sheer veils. She looked familiar to you, you thought, and then she laid her own eyes on you – blue from the spice – and you realised it was Lady Jessica.

Throughout the past few months, both of you seemed to significantly rise in power.

“Brother…!” You ran up to him, instinctively, despite everything that was telling you not to trust the man in front of you – he was not your brother, he was a shell of Paul Atreides; filled with hate and anger and a newly discovered hunger for power.

Perhaps you two had more in common now.

“Sister,” he greeted you with a nod of his head and you froze in your place as you were about to give him a hug but he visibly did not want it.

A long, awkward silence occurred between everyone gathered in the room. You tried to keep your chin held up but your head felt heavy at that moment as you realised that there was no home and no family to go back to.

You were not about to be saved by a long lost family. There was nothing to save you from. Giedi Prime was your home and Feyd-Rautha was your family.

Paul looked down with contempt as his eyes fixed on your abdomen. He was visibly uncomfortable with the presence of your son. He had to sense his abilities interfering with his own.

“I’ve been informed that apparently, last night, I have slain my grandfather,” he smirked.

“Your grandfather?” You asked, surprised, and then you laid your eyes on Lady Jessica.

Perhaps that was why you fitted so well with The Harkonnens. You had been apparently raised by one of them.

There were actually many things you wanted to ask her. Why had she taught you how to be able to fight The Voice? Why had she been preparing you for things you were clearly not destined to become? And – most importantly – had she ever had any love for you in her heart?

“I do not mind such accusations,” Paul told you and reached out his hand to caress your cheek. From the corner of your eye, you spotted Feyd’s muscles tensing. Your brother’s touch was surprisingly gentle but it did not feel like Paul at all. And your son was kicking your ribs in a painful way for as long as his uncle’s touch lingered upon your skin. “I have missed you, sister. You never replied to any of my letters.”

“I was not given any letters,” you told him.

“I see,” Paul looked down again, this time he focused on The Atreides signet ring on your pinky finger. “Kneel down,” he ordered and you furrowed your brows.

“Excuse me?”

“Kneel down, Baroness Harkonnen and I shall spare your life,” he expanded his thought. “I feel sentimental today,” he added. “You can live, however your husband and the spawn inside you cannot.”

You felt as if he had just spit in your face. That was more offensive than hurtful and more angering than saddening.

“You’re insane,” you took a step back. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner, Paul Atreides? You’re a Fremen savage terrorist now. I am The Duchess of The House Atreides, The Baroness of The House Harkonnen and I will not kneel down in front of you,” you stated proudly.

“I am The Duke Atreides!” He yelled as you took a few more steps back. “I am the son of Duke Leto Atreides and you are nothing but a spoiled Princess that was thrown out and disposed of to die amongst The Harkonnens!” He reminded you harshly.

“There are ships appearing above the planet,” one of the Fremen interrupted you as he informed your brother. He was staring at a tracking device in his hand. “They are leaders of the Great Houses. Someone had to call upon them earlier.”

“That person has done me a great favour,” Paul smirked mischievously. “I am going to inform them about what you have done to my father, Your Imperial Highness,” he addressed The Emperor with contempt. “And by defeating you, I will take your daughter as my wife and reign as The new Emperor of The House Atreides.”

“Please, don’t! My father is old and weak! You can’t fight him!” Princess Irulan stood in front of her father to cover him with her own body.

“Such a fight will take no place,” you clenched your jaw. “He has no right to speak in the name of The House Atreides. I am The Duchess of it and he’s just a Fremen terrorist!”

“Perhaps you haven’t heard me right, dear sister…” Paul started.

“I have heard you perfectly well, brother,” you turned around to face him with raised eyebrows.

“Then you know that I am The Duke,” he squinted his eyes at you.

“I will not give up such a title easily,” you raised your head even higher as you straightened yourself. “I shall challenge you to a duel, brother.”

“Challenge to a duel? Me?” Paul snorted at you. “You cannot wield a blade sister.”

“I am the blade of my Baroness,” Feyd’s raspy voice interrupted you as everyone looked at him.

He nodded at you and you nodded back, approaching him to put a hand on his chest.

“Do not disappoint me, Feyd,” you whispered. “Make me proud like you always do.”

You hoped he was aware of the weight of the responsibility placed upon his shoulders right now. It was not a simple duel with Paul Atreides caused by his wife’s whim to keep some title. It was a duel about the future of his House, a duel about his child’s life… Perhaps a duel about the future of the whole galaxy.

And you hated that on that day you’d either lose a husband or a brother. Losing your husband would be much worse – you couldn’t imagine your life without Feyd now and what you’d end up like without his protection. On the other hand, seeing Paul die – even changed like that – would bring you no pleasure.

“Give my husband his blade back,” you barked at the Fremen guards as you stood next to Princess Irulan and watched the guard hesitantly handing Feyd his knife.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Baroness,” Princess Irulan hissed at you.

“Would you rather get on your knees and beg him, Princess?” You asked her.

“For my father’s life, I would.”

“Well, that is not a tradition of The House Harkonnen to beg on our knees,” you explained.

No one had to know how pathetic the late Baron had been in his last moments. Or how easy it was to humiliate Count Glossu Rabban.

“Have faith, mother,” your son’s voice brought you great comfort as Feyd and Paul stood facing each other. Hot Arrakis' sun was setting slowly behind them; its light was making them both look more like nothing but dark silhouettes.

“It’s nice to meet you, cousin,” Paul greeted your husband.

“Cousin? Is that so?” Feyd looked amused.

“Please, save your father. Do not let your uncle have any advantage. Let your father have a fair fight,” you pleaded to the baby inside you.

You had to be very desperate to count on the unborn child to save you, you realised.

“May thy knife chip and shatter,” Paul raised his blade to perform the traditional Harkonnen gesture.

It annoyed you how he displayed his Harkonnen heritage as if he was more of it than you were. He might have had their blood but he was no Harkonnen. Perhaps that was what you had always felt towards your brother above anything else – annoyance.

He was simply annoying in a way he was nothing special and yet your father favoured him because he was a boy and a son of a woman your father loved. It was annoying that he had a mother and you did not. That he would inherit the title you could only dream of. That he was following you around like a lost puppy, pretending that you two were normal, loving siblings. You loved him but the annoyance was often stronger. And now the love was barely there.

Your brother had died in that desert. Muad’Dib was not your brother.

Just like Baroness Harkonnen was not his sister.

“May thy knife chip and shatter,” Feyd smirked at Paul as he repeated the Harkonnen gesture and the duel began.

The whole room went completely silent. The only sounds were the ones of the fight – the music of the crossing knives and occasional grunts. Amongst the Fremen women, two watched the most curiously. One of them was naturally Lady Jessica, meanwhile the other one was a young woman whose blue eyes were following Paul’s every move.

Feyd noticed her, too, as he pointed at her with a smirk.

“Your pet?” He asked Paul.

Your brother did not answer and attacked but you had your eyes glued on the Fremen woman. She would possibly cause trouble in case of Paul’s death, so you wanted to remember her face.

You did not like the way Paul seemed to fight as good as your husband. You were aware his skills had improved but nothing could prepare you for the sight of him blocking nearly every blow and successfully performing his own. The way these two skillful warriors fought reminded you more of some sort of sophisticated dance than a common fight. And if this duel was not about your future and your life, you’d love to watch it and admire it.

Princess Irulan was as scared as you were. She held your hand and you squeezed it to give her comfort.

As women you could only watch and hope for the men to spare you. In times like that, you hated to be a woman. No matter how much power and influence you were holding, in critical moments like this, you were only an observer of the grand spectacle of life.

A soft gasp left your mouth at the sight of your brother attacking Feyd with so much ferocity that your husband stumbled for a moment and when he raised his head again, you spotted fresh blood dripping from his nose all over his chin. He smirked, of course, since pain was bringing him pleasure. However, his pain was bringing no pleasure to you.

The duel progressed in a more aggressive manner. The foreplay was long gone now as two opponents were growing more and more frustrated with each other. It was getting less sophisticated and more messy. You tried to follow the movements closely but sometimes you missed half of them because of their speed.

Princess Irulan’s loud wheeze made you realise that Paul’s blade found a thin gap in Feyd’s stillsuit as his blade cut deep into your husband’s flesh right below his rib. Your eyes widened at the sight and your heart sank so deep in your chest that you forgot to breathe to the point of dizziness.

Paul had a smirk on his face when he turned around to face you as Feyd dropped his blade and stumbled behind him. You stood there, petrified as the reality around you seemed to slow down.

You felt more like an animal than a human being at that moment – your head was empty, you were driven by nothing but instincts.

Feyd fell down to his knees as Paul began walking towards you, limping slightly. Your free hand covered your womb as your other hand squeezed Irulan’s hand so tight you nearly crashed it. You tried to keep your eyes on Paul, you wanted to observe his moves to make sure you’d be able to somehow defend yourself. But you couldn’t. You kept staring at your husband and you noticed his struggle to get the blade out of his body. You couldn’t understand why he was trying to do that since a skilled and experienced fighter like him had known perfectly well it was never a good idea.

On shaky legs but with all the force, bleeding from his fresh wound, Feyd rose up and attacked Paul yet again, accompanied by Lady Jessica’s scream that made you shiver.

Your brother turned around, surprised to see Feyd back on his feet again – desperate act of a wounded, dying animal, ready to sacrifice everything to win the final battle. Feyd pushed the blade in between the gaps of Paul’s stillsuit and twisted the knife with a psychotic smile before they both fell to the ground.

After a short while of silence with the waves of shock going through your body, you screamed and ran up to Feyd. Lady Jessica stood up and ran up to her son. Everyone watched with widened eyes the two feral women kneeling down arm to arm, holding the wounded men in their arms.

Feyd chuckled at the sight of you and coughed up as you put your hands on his wound. The Harkonnen blood was thicker, which was making bleeding out to death a more difficult process but you could see his eyes getting hazy anyway.

You felt the tears streaming down your face as you caressed his cheek and he raised his hand weakly to put it on your womb.

“No!” Lady Jessica’s scream was animalistic. You turned your head around and saw her face winced in so much pain and anger that she no longer seemed human. You took a short glance down and noticed that life had completely left your brother’s body by now. It stinged your heart, too, but you knew that it meant only one thing – Feyd had won. You were The Duchess Atreides now. “He’s dead!” Lady Jessica yelled at you.

You were a mother now, too. You couldn’t imagine the depth of her pain and loss. Her only son – dead in her arms. Your brother.

Her hand reached out for the blade stuck in Paul’s guts. The same blade that had wounded your husband before. Now she wanted to slay Feyd with it to make sure he would die, too.

“Mother,” your son warned you and driven by a pure instinct you swiftly grabbed the short knife attached to the armour piece on your hip beneath all the folds of your dress. Without thinking you stabbed her before she was able to take the blade out of her son’s dead body.

Lady Jessica’s blue eyes widened as she looked deep into yours and you sobbed.

“Forgive me,” you whispered, your hand shaking as you had just committed your very first direct murder.

You would never find out all the things you wanted to ask her. Sometimes even the biggest questions remained unanswered. Perhaps it was for the best.

And Lady Jessica had to understand that what you had done was caused by your need to protect your family. She had been one of those people sending you to the Harkonnens. She couldn’t be surprised now to see you had become one of them. You had to protect them.

Her body fell down on top of Paul’s and all the Fremen started to look around uncomfortably. You did not care, you focused on your husband again. His eyelids were getting heavy but he was still smiling.

“Can somebody help?!” You asked, looking around. “Please,” you begged Gurney.

“Stilgar,” he looked at one of the Fremen who looked like he was important and most likely the new leader after Muad’Dib’s death. “Bring here those servants we are holding captive,” he told him.

The man called Stilgar nodded unsurely and two Fremen guards left the room in a hurry.

“Please, don’t die,” you whispered to Feyd, cradling his head and putting it on your lap delicately. “Please, don’t leave me now.”

“I’ve made you proud, my Lady?” He asked in a weak whisper.

“Oh, you’ve made me the proudest,” you smiled through the tears. “But you can’t leave us now… None of this matters without you, my darling,” you wiped the blood off of his chin with your sleeve but it only smeared some more. “I love you, please…”

You expected to give up completely one day and finally confess your feelings but you had never expected it would be on the day of his death.

Feyd chuckled as his hand weakly slid down your womb as he no longer had any strength to keep it there.

“I love you, too, pet,” his whisper was inaudible but you heard him right and sobbed some more, watching his eyes close.

“No! No, no, no…” You lowered yourself down and pressed your forehead to his, covering his face with your tears.

The doors opened and the Harkonnen medic entered the room in a hurry, accompanied by a few spared servants with Astra and Cara among them. Your poor girls were terrified and trembling. It was a great relief to see them but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care much about anything but your husband.

What was the point of defeating Paul? What was the point of anything without Feyd by your side?

The medic hurried to your side and knelt down next to Feyd’s body. He examined it quickly and furrowed his brows.

“My Lady, he’s still alive,” he informed you and you looked up at him.

“Wh-what?”

“The body functions are still there, Baroness. He lost consciousness due to the blood loss but maybe… Maybe I can still save The Baron’s life,” he swallowed thickly.

“What are you waiting for then?!” You yelled at him and he nodded, beckoning over a few male servants to help him carry Feyd’s body to the medical wing of the palace.

You stood up clumsily and watched them walk out. You wanted to follow them and forget about anything else but you were aware that at a moment like this you could not leave any case unfinished.

You faced The Emperor. He looked as if he was about to have a heart attack, his face paler than usual and his eyes widened. His shaking hand was holding Irulan’s one.

“I, Duchess (Y/N) of The House Atreides, Baroness of The House Harkonnen, pledge my allegiance to The Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV,” you kneeled down and bowed your head.

His time would come, too, of that you were sure. But not now. Not yet.

“May your service be accepted, Duchess Atreides, Baroness Harkonnen,” he nodded at you and stood up once again.

You turned around at the Fremen, looking at the man named Stilgar who had been watching you very closely ever since Paul’s death.

“You may attack us but all the ships above us with the galactic leaders will destroy your homeworld in revenge,” you informed him. “Or you might cooperate with me. I will give you what my father has never given you and what he would never give you,” you added. “I shall join my husband now but I want you to stay here and negotiate with you.”

Stilgar looked around to see the faces of his fellow Fremen brothers and sisters. You knew that the reason they had not yet attacked you despite all your guards being slain was respect. You were the one to win the duel and it was your husband who slain their Muad’Dib. You were the one to slay their Reverend Mother.

Some of the fellow Fremen were shaking their heads hesitantly, not trusting you. But some of them were nodding.

“We can divide the planet for spice production and for Fremen to live in. We do not harvest spice in the south of Arrakis because it is inhabitable to us,” you explained. “So if we give the south to you, we will not lose any production. And you will have your own territory to live in. I am going to help you to turn the south of Arrakis into a more friendly place as much as possible. The Harkonnen science is well developed, I am sure they will find a way to make trees grow again there. And I offer you to have a representative during the most important councils about Arrakis’ fate in the future. That would be you, I assume?” You tried to explain calmly. “I do not want you as enemies. Arrakis is big and spacious enough for all of us.”

The long silence occurred.

“What if I was wrong? What if she is Lisan Al Gaib?” Stilgar asked and some of the Fremen rolled their eyes angrily.

“I am no Lisan Al Gaib,” you told him, “I am Duchess Atreides, Baroness Harkonnen. That is how you shall address me.”

“The leaders of The Great Houses are getting impatient,” one of the Fremen said as he was monitoring the tracking device in his hand.

“Tell them to come down,” you looked at him. “They shall witness our new deal.”

Hesitantly, Stilgar nodded at the man.

“Now, do excuse me, I should go to my husband,” you nodded your head at him and then at The Emperor.

You were about to walk out, when Gurney spoke up.

“What about Paul’s body? Lady Jessica’s?”

“Do you know where my father’s remains are?” You asked him.

“I have my assumptions,” he answered. There was no kindness nor love in his eyes anymore when he was looking at you. There was hurt, betrayal and anger. None of it mattered to you anymore.

“Find it then and send all of them back to Caladan. Lay them down next to my mother,” you told him. “I do not want Arrakis to be known for being a place where the Atreides rot.”

“My Lady,” he nodded.

With your eyes you found the Fremen woman who most likely had been Paul’s lover. She was now kneeling to his body and stroking his cheeks.

“You,” you addressed her as she looked up angrily. She could kill you with her eyes only if she could. “What is your name?”

“Chani,” she answered proudly.

“Was Muad’Dib your lover?”

She hesitated before answering.

“Yes.”

“Change of plans, then,” you looked at Gurney. “Lady Jessica and my father shall go back to Caladan. Let this woman bury Muad’Dib as she wishes.”

“My Lady,” he bowed.

“Let it be known that Baroness Harkonnen can get a little sentimental,” you smirked at Chani before walking out of the room.

Your body was so full of adrenaline that you felt as if you were in a dream.

Feyd was unconscious for three days now and most of them you were spending in the medical wing, holding his hand. In the meantime you were working on a deal with Stilgar. The Emperor had left Arrakis as soon as possible but not without thanking you for your loyalty and support that he had promised not to forget.

With fake kindness you assured him of your sincerity as if you hadn’t been already planning how to get rid of him next. Seeing his weakness and how easily your brother would take his title, if not stopped by your husband, made your own hunger for power even greater.

The leaders of The Great Houses hadn’t stayed for long but they borrowed you servants and guards for until your own would come from Giedi Prime, sent by Count Glossu Rabban.

So much was happening and so many things there were to process but your mind was in a haze. All you could truly focus on was Feyd. At first you wanted to give up completely but it was your son who decided to motivate you.

“You have to be strong now, mother. Do it for me,” he had pleaded.

And he had been right. You had to make all the arrangements to ensure the position of the House Harkonnen for your heir.

Holding Feyd’s cold hand and caressing his fingers, you watched his body functions on the monitor. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep. Some part of you was glad he was getting all this rest. You just hoped he would eventually be alright.

Suddenly, you felt his cold slim fingers move slightly. You looked at his face and watched his eyelids flutter before opening slowly. He looked around, confused.

“Pet?” He only asked at the sight of you, confused, as you smiled widely and sobbed a few happy tears.

“Oh, Feyd!” You leaned in to place a soft kiss upon his lips. “Oh, my darling…”

“Shouldn’t I be dead now?”

“Not on my watch,” you caressed his cheeks. “You’ve been knocked out for three days, my Baron,” you told him. “Let me call a medic to examine you.”

You stood up and informed the guard behind the doors that Baron Harkonnen was awake and he nodded before walking away to call for the medic.

While you waited for him, you told Feyd about everything that had been happening for the past three days. He was only watching you closely and nodding his head.

“My uncle was right. You’re better suited to be The Baroness than I am to be The Baron,” he told you eventually.

“Don’t say that! You’d do the same,” you assured him, squeezing his hand.

“No, I would not. I would slay all the Fremen once I’d have an army here.”

“You would not because I would advise you otherwise,” you chuckled and then you took a deep breath in. “I can’t wait to go back home.”

“Home?” He furrowed his brows.

“Giedi Prime,” you answered like it was obvious. “I want our son to be born there.”

“We need to find someone worthy of being the Governor of Arrakis first. Someone loyal and not a complete idiot like my brother,” Feyd reminded you.

“I’ve already found one and sent him a letter,” you admitted, a little anxious about his reaction.

“Who?”

“Lord Kirill, the one who married one of my former maids. She bore him a son not so long ago. He will be loyal and I’ve read about his successful military campaigns in one of the books,” you answered.

“Lord Kirill is not a bad choice,” Feyd nodded. “We can allow him to try.”

“I’ve told that man, Stilgar, that he can write to me any time if anything happens. For some reason he seems to respect me greatly. Probably because I have slain their Reverend Mother,” you laughed nervously.

“And how do you feel about it?” Feyd asked, squinting his eyes at you as he slowly sat up on the bed.

You didn’t answer at first. Your smile dropped and you stared in the distance.

“I remember how your uncle told me that you had killed your mother. I could not understand it back then. It seemed to be the worst thing a person can do,” you admitted. “But I’ve realised that I have killed my mother twice. I killed my biological mother by being born and I killed Lady Jessica who has raised me. And guess what… The sun still rises in the morning. My blood still flows. As if nothing terrible happened at all. Strange,” you looked at him again.

“With time you just don’t feel anything anymore,” he assured you.

“She was with a child, the medic told me. Lady Jessica was as pregnant as I am. With a daughter. My sister,” you whispered.

“So, you slaughtered them both,” Feyd smirked. Of course it brought him some sadistic satisfaction.

“I have slaughtered the last member of The Atreides family except for me,” you told him. “This House dies with me so the House Harkonnen can thrive. This is the greatest sacrifice and I only hope it is going to pay off.”

“What do you mean?” He tilted his head.

“You shall give my son The Harkonnen Empire,” you stated but before he could answer, the medic entered the room with a smile.

“I’m so glad to see you awake, my Baron,” he approached your husband. “You must be starving, I’ve told the cooks to prepare your favourite steak.”

Feyd nodded at him.

“My Lady, your servant girls would like to see you,” the medic told you and you stood up.

“From now on, you shall address Astra and Cara as my maids,” you told him.

The title would not change much about their position but at least it was giving them some dignity. The medic’s eyes widened a little but he nodded.

“I will see you soon,” you leaned in to place a kiss upon Feyd’s forehead before walking out and going to your bedroom.

Astra and Cara were standing by the window, waiting for your arrival. When you entered the chamber, they both approached you excitedly.

“Is that true that the Baron is awake now, my Lady?” Astra asked.

“Yes, my darling, it is,” you nodded.

“Oh, what a relief!” Cara sighed.

They were terrified of Feyd but they knew that if he died, no one would allow you to be Baroness Harkonnen on your own. The Harkonnen lords would most likely start an uprising. No one would accept a woman in charge – especially an off-world woman. They would rather crown Count Glossu Rabban their next Baron and you’d be an outcast alongside your son. Without any family to go to. Meanwhile, your servants – now maids – would either be killed or enslaved again.

But that would not happen – not at all. And it was hard to believe that you really had survived and found a new home, new family, new purpose. Perhaps you fitted even better with them than you had ever had with The Atreides on Caladan. Perhaps it was making it easier to cope when you believed that.

Bittersweet was the taste of your victory. You still remembered your brother’s dead body laying on the floor. You remembered Lady Jessica’s widened eyes right after you stabbed her. They would haunt you forever but you knew they were inevitable to happen if you wanted your happy ending and your survival.

And you wanted them more than anything.

Coming back to Giedi Prime was making you a bit anxious. You weren’t sure what people’s reactions would be to Feyd and you being the new Baron and Baroness Harkonnen. Rabban was assuring you that the citizens were rather excited but you were mostly worried about the noble lords. Only the most stupid ones believed in the late Baron’s death being caused by Muad’Dib. But the stupid ones didn’t matter.

The official ceremony of you and your husband becoming the Baron and Baroness was planned for the day after your arrival. Surprisingly, Rabban who had been responsible for making arrangements, had done a splendid job. The whole Giedi Prime was decorated already when you looked at the city from the windows of your ship. He was doing his best to stay in Feyd’s favour.

“Do you wish to keep your old bedrooms, my Lord, my Lady?” One of the servants asked once you entered the Giedi Prime’s fortress. “We can prepare the late Baron’s chambers for you.”

“Is that the room with the bathtub?” You asked and Feyd nodded at you with a hint of disgust in his eyes. “We wish to keep our old ones, thank you,” you informed the servant. “But I do want to change some decor,” you added. “Some other time, though, now I’m exhausted,” you dismissed the bowing man.

“You still say thank you to the servants, even now when you’re The Baroness,” Feyd smirked at you as you two began walking down the corridor to reach the staircase.

It was a surprising feeling but you sighed out of relief as you passed all the huge black doors on your way. It truly felt like home.

“That is how I was raised. It’s not easy to change what we were taught as children,” you reminded him and he nodded.

Feyd walked you to your shared bedrooms since you could barely walk in your current state. You were about to give birth any day now and you noticed he didn’t like leaving you alone for long when you were in that state. He waited for Astra and Cara to join you before he eventually left to deal with some official duties as The Baron.

Your maids brought a celebration dress with them to show you and make the final fittings. It was so huge that it filled half of the bedroom space. Black and feathered with enough volume to hide your pregnancy.

“How do you feel, Baroness?” Astra asked as she fixed one of the feathers on the dress’ fabric and you were looking at yourself in the mirror.

“Like an Empress already,” you smirked to yourself.

Cara and Astra looked at each other significantly but they chose not to comment.

“Like an Empress of death,” you added. “I imagine The Harkonnen Empire to be a dark, cold and scary place. I can see snakes slithering down the black marble floors, following me wherever I go, willing to attack any enemy of mine,” you dreamt out loud.

In one of the Harkonnen books you had read about such creatures – genetically modified to be loyal pets to their owners and deadly attacking their enemies. You had been waiting to become The Baroness to ask the engineers for pets like these, too.

The celebration was supposed to start in the late afternoon but you were on your feet since early morning, dealing with official papers to sign and to get familiar with. There were off-world guests to greet – Princess Irulan amongst them, representing House Corrino and her father. He was still grateful for what you had done on Arrakis in a nearly exaggerated way. Perhaps he knew about your bloodthirsty ambitions blooming within you and he hoped to become your friend.

The Emperor himself being desperate for you to like him because of the power you were holding now. That was delicious in a way, you had to admit.

He was not the only one. The word had spread about what had happened on Arrakis. Feyd was known now as one of the greatest warriors in the galaxy who would sacrifice everything for The House Harkonnen. And you were known for being cunning, dignified and unhinged in a way you were able to murder a Bene Gesserit Reverend Mother who had been your family member. The new Baron and Baroness Harkonnen were quickly becoming characters of scary stories people would tell their misbehaving children. Cold and bloodthirsty; unstoppable and inseparable force.

You couldn’t tell what moment of the ceremony was your favourite – when everyone was looking at you walking slowly and gasping at your dress or when the Harkonnen army saluted you and swore to shed blood for you, making you realise what kind of massive army you were truly commanding now. Perhaps it was the moment of making vows or putting on the Harkonnen insignia. Or maybe an unscripted, passionate and hungry kiss that Feyd gave you in front of everybody once you were announced officially The Baron and Baroness of The House Harkonnen. That kiss was a promise of more. He would give you so much more than this. And you would be by his side every step of the way.

You were his anchor and he was your blade. The whole galaxy knew that now.

The Giedi Prime was celebrating but you chose to go back to your chambers quite early. You were not pleased with missing the party but you were exhausted after a whole day of walking and standing. Astra and Cara helped you to change into your nightgown and they were in the process of brushing your hair softly when you felt a sharp pain in your abdomen.

“My Lady?” Cara asked, worryingly.

“It’s fine, just a contraction,” you smiled at her. They had been occasionally happening for a few days now.

“Are you sure, Baroness?” Astra looked at your face in the reflection of the mirror.

“Are we sure?” You asked your son in your head.

“It’s time, mother,” the familiar voice answered.

Your eyes widened as another contraction came and you grabbed the edge of your vanity table. The girls looked at each other, scared.

“Call for the medic and inform The Baron,” you told them and they nodded their heads.

Astra stayed with you while Cara recruited one of the guards in front of your doors to go with her and find Feyd and the medic. With Astra’s help you sat on the edge of your bed and squeezed her hand.

“I might die, Astra,” you told her and she shook her head, terrified. “Listen to me, my mother died giving birth and I am aware this might happen to me as well.”

“My Lady, no… I refuse to…” She started with a trembling voice.

“Astra, listen to me, it’s important,” you drawled through your teeth gritted out of pain. She closed her lips and looked at you with her big Harkonnen eyes. “If I die tonight, I want you and Cara to take care of my son, do you hear me?”

She nodded as tears started to form in the corner of her eyes.

“The medic has been informed. He knows about my wish and he told me you and Cara have been studying infant care intensely. Feyd knows he cannot hurt you nor Cara. You will be safe, do not worry about that. I ensured that,” you assured her.

“Th-thank you, my Lady…” Astra stuttered out.

“In return, I ask you to take care of my son. And to keep him away from the Bene Gesserit scheming. Please,” you pleaded.

“I promise. In Cara’s name, too,” Astra put her free hand on her heart and you broke a smile at her.

She was barely sixteen and you were placing such great responsibility upon her shoulders. You couldn’t deal with it differently, though. It was a cruel world you lived in and much worse things were being forced upon sixteen years old girls anyway.

You feared death. Especially now when you were about to give birth to your son and begin your reign. You had things to look for and your child might had not been conceived out of love but it was still wanted by you. You did not feel trapped in a loveless marriage like your mother had been. You actually wanted to give Feyd-Rautha a son. Many sons and many daughters; you wanted to be known for giving House Harkonnen many successful heirs. You wanted to be an important figure in their history books one day.

But as much as you feared death, you also knew that it was also a place where your mother was waiting for you, your father, your brother, Lady Jessica and your unborn sister. You liked to think that even now they’d still greet you with open arms. And if not, you’d just wait for Feyd patiently.

Your depressing stream of thought was interrupted by the black doors opening rapidly without knocking. It was the medic accompanied by Cara and Feyd. You had never seen your husband stressed before. Usually so stoic, he was on the verge of a breakdown.

“Prepare the bed for The Baroness,” the medic ordered Astra and Cara helped her with the duvets and towels.

Feyd helped you to stand up and he cupped your face in his cold and shivering hands.

“How do you feel?” He asked.

“How do you think I feel?” You rolled your eyes and hissed out of pain as another contraction hit you. “Like shit.”

“You can do it, my pet. You’re the strongest woman I know,” he assured you and helped you to get in bed. The medic was preparing some injections already that were supposed to make the process go smoother and easier.

“Our technology allows the whole childbirth to be nearly painless,” he told you with a smile. “Of course only the richest can afford such shots.”

“Remember what I’ve told you before,” Feyd barked at him. He was standing beside your bed and squeezing your hand in his. Astra and Cara were standing on the other side with a bowl full of cold water and a towel to wipe your forehead when needed.

The medic nodded and you furrowed your brow. He injected the first shot and you winced, squeezing Feyd’s hand tighter.

“What is that arrangement between you two?” You asked but they did not answer. “I have a right to know if it is about me or my child!” You demanded.

The medic looked at your husband and after a short moment of hesitation, Feyd nodded at him.

“The Baron has made me promise to… To ensure you live, my Lady. Even if it means your son will not,” he explained.

“You’d sacrifice your heir?” Your eyes widened when you looked up at your husband. He crouched down and leaned in to kiss your temple and to whisper in your ear so the rest would not hear him properly.

“We can produce more heirs. And if we can’t, any whore can give me a son. But no one would ever replace you, my Baroness,” he told you.

“You can’t let our son die… No…” You nearly cried. “You don’t understand, Feyd. These past few weeks I have been talking to him every day. I already have a bond with him. And he saved your life on Arrakis… If someone has to die tonight, it’s going to be me,” you tried to convince him to change his mind but he only clenched his jaw and gave you an angry look before standing up again.

“So far, the baby is placed properly,” the medic assured you. “I do not think anyone is going to die tonight.”

The sunlight was already creeping in through the narrow windows of your bedroom. Exhausted, squeezing your husband’s hand, you finally made the final push. If the medic claimed that thanks to his injections the process had been nearly painless, you did not want to know what it would be like without the said injections.

But it was finally over and the loud cry of a newborn baby filled the whole room as you sighed with relief.

“Oh, he’s a big boy, my Lord, my Lady,” the medic smiled at you as he cradled the baby in his arms. “Strong and healthy,” he assured you and handed your son to Cara. Astra wiped your face with a towel and brushed the hair out of your face gently and you reached out weakly to hold your child. You were too exhausted to process the thought of having a son but when he was finally placed in your arms and stopped crying at the sight of you, you burst out in happy tears.

The boy had your eyes and soft, fluffy, thin baby hairs on his head. His skin colour was much paler than yours but not as white as his fathers.

“He looks more like me,” you thought out loud as Feyd chuckled, staring at the boy in your arms with his chin resting on your shoulder.

“His hair might start falling out once he’s getting older,” the medic informed you.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” you chuckled through your tears. “I’m still going to love him even when he’s bald.”

“My Lord, shall we inform the people of the birth of the na-baron?” The medic asked your husband.

“Immediately,” Feyd answered. You spotted pride and excitement in his voice even though he was trying to hide it.

“Do you have a name, my Lady?” The medic laid his eyes on you.

“I want to bring back the old Harkonnen tradition,” you stated. “The one about giving your first born son the name of the Wedding Games winner from his parents’ wedding,” you brought up the fun fact you had read in one of the books from the Harkonnen library. “But I would also like him to be named after his father just like my husband bears his grandfather’s name,” you added. “What about Maxim-Feyd Harkonnen?” You looked up at your husband, trying to read the reaction from his face.

“You can name him whatever you wish as long as it is not Vladimir,” he only said.

“Na-Baron Maxim-Feyd Harkonnen that is,” you nodded at the medic and he left your bedroom to announce the birth of the new heir.

“Girls, can you leave us alone for a moment?” You asked your maids and they bowed down before walking out quietly as well.

Once you were left alone in the room with your husband and your son, you moved slightly to the side, wincing out of pain.

“Come, join us?” You looked at Feyd and he nodded, hesitantly, before sitting up on the bed next to you. He put his arm around you and his eyes were not leaving your son even for a moment. “What do you think? Now, without anyone to witness?” You teased, knowing perfectly well there were things Feyd would never say or do with any kind of audience.

“I think he’s… beautiful,” he admitted and raised his finger to caress the boy’s cheek. “And I’m glad he was born in a world without my uncle in it.”

“And that’s because of you, my darling. You protected him,” you reminded. “Like you always will, yes?”

“He is my heir. Everything I do, I do for him. My legacy is for him to inherit,” Feyd answered and placed a kiss on your cheek.

You stayed like that for a while, in complete silence, looking at Maxim who was staring back at you with his wide eyes.

“Do you hear me?” You tried but there was no answer. However, the baby kicked his feet slightly when you spoke to him with your mind.

“You’re going to be a strong warrior, my darling. The most fearsome in the galaxy,” you promised him in a whisper. “The greatest pride of the House Harkonnen. Mummy will make sure of that.”

You heard the sound of fireworks going off in the distance, black splashes of ink-like gas scattered all over the morning sky. Giedi Prime had already found out about the birth of your son.

“They will want to see him,” you turned your head around to look at Feyd.

“They can wait,” he told you. “You rest.”

“No, I can do it. I want to show them,” you assured him and pecked his lips gently. “Tell Astra and Cara to come here and prepare me.”

He nodded and leaned in to place a kiss upon his son’s forehead before leaving the bedroom to find your maids. You thought you’d feed Maxim first but he was already falling asleep in your arms, so when your girls entered the chambers, you handed Astra your child delicately and she took him to the bathroom to bathe him. You needed a bath as well and Cara helped you with it, holding your hand as you were moving slowly on shaky legs.

Your dress was black and very simple – humble even. After all, you were not supposed to be the main attraction on that day. Your hair was done up and the only jewellery you were wearing was the rings of your houses. Maxim was put in traditional black clothes for the newborn Harkonnen babies and you waited for the noon, half asleep on your armchair, feeding your baby with the help of Astra and Cara. Your dress was pulled down but ready to zip back up any given moment.

Feyd entered the room but he unusually announced his arrival with a soft knock upon your doors. He was wearing his black leather uniform and froze at the sight of you feeding his son.

“Since when do you knock?” You looked up at him with a soft smile.

“I didn’t want to startle the baby,” he told you. “You’re feeding the child yourself?” He was visibly surprised.

“I will not let any Harkonnen woman feed my child. There is enough poison in him already,” you answered. “And it is good for creating a bond between the mother and her child anyway.”

“How long does he need? The people have already gathered and they want to see him,” Feyd approached you.

“It’s not noon yet.”

“They’re impatient, my Baroness,” he smirked and looked down at his child sucking on your breast. Maxim looked up at him and reached his tiny hand up.

You sighed at the sight of Feyd looking completely paralyzed. You moved one of your hands gently to grab your husband’s pointing finger and put it in your son’s hand. Maxim squeezed it tightly and you chuckled.

“He’s strong already,” Feyd noticed.

“Of course he is, he’s your son,” you nodded. “But it’s enough now, my boy, you’ll get more later, I promise,” you nodded at Cara. She took the child from you delicately as Astra wiped your breast and helped you to put the upper part of the dress back on. Maxim whined for a while but Cara successfully shushed him by carrying him in her arms.

Feyd helped you to stand up and he led you out of the bedroom with Astra and Cara following you closely. You approached the big glass doors leading to the balcony of the fortress. You could already hear the cheers of the gathered masses waiting to see the heir.

You took a deep breath in as Cara handed you Maxim and Feyd nodded at the guards to open the doors. Slowly and carefully you walked out into the black-and-white world. Thousands of nearly identical pale faces were waiting impatiently to see you and when you finally graced them with your smile and a wave of your hand, they cheered loudly, causing Maxim to startle and cry. The sound of his crying caused the crowd to go even wilder, though.

You handed your son to Feyd and he raised his arms to show off the crying boy to the cheering and saluting population of Giedi Prime. He held him up in the air for a while and then he carefully gave him back to you and joined your lips together in a hungry, passionate kiss. He cupped your face to hold it in place as he devoured you. All the cheers and your baby’s crying were suddenly nothing but a muffled sound. All that mattered was you and Feyd-Rautha, showing his loyalty and gratitude to his Baroness.

Scared and naive Princess Atreides who had come to Giedi Prime a year earlier, she hadn’t known how much she could endure and survive. How much she had been capable of. She couldn’t have known that this scary place was indeed her home and that terrifying man was the love of her life.

Perhaps for the first time in your life you felt sincerely and thoroughly respected and appreciated. You had a purpose and you had a hunger for more.

And although no one else could hear him in that noise, it still surprised you what your husband dared to say to you in public.

“I love you,” he breathed out after breaking the kiss, still holding your face steadily in his hands and staring deep into your eyes. “I will give you the world.”

You nodded at him with a soft smile.

“I love you, too, my Baron.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE 2.0 — Hi, it's me again! 👋🏻 I want to explain a few choices that I didn't want to mention about before the chapter because it would spoil the events. At first, Reader's baby was supposed to be just a regular baby – strong warrior of course etc., but nothing extremely special. Some of you were calling him jokingly an antichrist, though and it gave me an idea. I decided that giving him special abilities would actually make it possible for Feyd-Rautha to win the duel with Paul. Otherwise, Paul would be able to kill him because he'd be able to foresee Feyd's moves like it happened in the movie. So, the whole theory that the baby is an antichrist was actually very helpful and made the plot of Feyd killing Paul more possible. 😈 Also, I decided to rewrite the scenes from the movie because whenever I am writing fics that happen in the movie scenes, the worst part is to actually describe the events on the screen and writing down everything actors are saying etc. I've always hated doing that so I decided to just be inspired by the events of the movie but go with my own version, especially that the presence of Paul's sister would obviously change the dynamic anyway. I know that some of you hoped Paul would live and have some sort of a deal with Feyd and his wife. I also liked the idea of arranging the marriage between Alia and their son. But as I said before – I decided to go with my original plan for this story. I hope I am forgiven. 😅

MASTERLIST

#dune imagine #dune fanfic #dune x reader #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen imagine #feyd rautha harkonnen fanfic #austin butler x reader #tttw #lilysfiction

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rayghosts · 10 months

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tim drake is a rare case where every wild, out-of-context thing you hear about him gets even wilder with context

made up a fake uncle to avoid getting adopted? first he had to steal his dead dad's will and change it to include the name of his fake uncle, then he forged an entire legal paper trail to fool even batman, and finally hired an out-of-luck actor to play the uncle and had brainstorm sessions with him about his character backstory. judging from his surprised reaction when bruce offered to adopt him, he probably did this to avoid being put into foster care and didnt even consider that bruce might want to adopt him (even though he already adopted three orphans before him) (and then bruce learned about this and gave him more freedom and crimefighting gear so tim could like him)

snuck into gotham during no man's land? he did this twice, first by himself to meet his girlfriend in the hospital while she was giving birth (he snuck into the ER as a nurse), then with his young justice friends who thought he was having daddy issues with batman and wanted to help (this was before he was adopted by bruce) (they also picked up an atlantean tourist on the way who wanted to sightsee gotham)

blew up several of the league of assassins' secret bases? before that he spent days working with them as a member to gain their trust (this was when he robbed that art museum) and all the while they were holding his dad's coworker's daughter who came to search for tim and learned about his secret life as an assassin before she learned he was robin (and then somehow fell in love with him)

becomes evil batman who kills in the future? not only that, he also convinces his friends to be evil with him and then takes control of half the country right after he kills every rogue in gotham and also his aunt. tim fought this version of himself at least three times, and each time swore that he would never become gun batman (he still becomes gun batman)

used his own legal last name as a hero name? he didnt even come up with the idea for that, he met an alternate earth version of himself (also evil) who was using that name and thought "oh that's a good name" and stole it for himself. he didnt bother to check if other drake's identity was public before he started using it. then he got pulled aside and told off personally by batman for using such a dumb name and that's why he's not called drake anymore

insulted jason to his face while he was trying to kill him? did this multiple times and even kicked jason in the nuts once (not while they were fighting, just as payback) (he's jason's favorite brother now)

and then anything that happened with young justice doesnt need any context because it's exactly as weird as it sounds. yes, he did save the fate of a planet by playing baseball with his friends. yes, they did invade an entire sovereign nation to rescue their one friend's parents who had turned into babies. yes, they did see santa claus die in a fiery explosion

#dc #batfam #robin #red robin #tim drake #young justice #young just us #batman #dc comics #mine #1k

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kitkat-the-muffin · 7 months

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Some things I loved about Once Upon A Studio (in no particular order):

Tinkerbell and Mickey interacting as dual mascots

The long-shots following characters through the studio (most notably from Peter Pan to Moana)

TREASURE FREAKIN PLANET

Everyone in that elevator was a character with little patience

The robot from Meet the Robinsons! I forgot his name 🥲

MILO THATCH FROM ATLANTIS

Gaston singing to himself about himself

The Mad Hatter making puns

Tiana correcting Pinocchio that the photo was happening right now and not tonight

Prince Charming losing his shoe on the staircase

Prince Eric’s dog stealing Prince Charming’s shoe and Charming yelled “Eric! Get your dog!”

Cinderella shouting “go Max go!”

Jiminy Cricket being the last solo during the group cover of When You Wish Upon A Star

The first Disney Princess singing with the last Disney Princess (and also Mulan who represents the middle of the Disney Renaissance)

Feed The Birds from Mary Poppins playing in the background of Mickey looking at Walt’s photo 🥲

Mickey saying “After you” to Oswald the Lucky Rabbit (Oswald was Walt’s first character, so everyone in this lineup came “After Oswald,” including Mickey)

DID I MENTION TREASURE FREAKIN PLANET BTW

Belle and Beast singing together 💕

Winnie The Pooh!!!! And all his friends of course!

Don’t think I didn’t see those Black Cauldron characters lol

The 101 Dalmatians watching that one Chernabog animation and being warned that they’ll get nightmares XD

Kronk

Quasimodo’s beautiful singing voice

Minnie covering her eyes in the boy’s bathroom

The dog from Oliver & Company (I forgot his name 🥲) driving around with Vanellope

Tarzan and Jane!

KIDA FROM ATLANTIS

Timon calling Olaf “frosty”

Genie helping Olaf while making a joke (🙏 Robin Williams)

Lucille from Meet the Robinsons drinking coffee with the tea gang (that Cogsworth was berating)

BOLT! :D (you can also see Penny in the crowd at the end)

The brooms from Fantasia!

THE SKELETONS FROM SKELETON DANCE

Absolutely zero Pixar characters 😔 this is a Disney Only event

There’s a LOT to talk about in this short but this is just a simple list of things that I really liked :3

I hope someone on YouTube makes a list of every cameo cause I wanna see them all identified

Also I didn’t see any references to A Goofy Movie so if anyone happens to find Powerline in the crowd or something lemmie know

Edit: I’ve been informed that A Goofy Movie was straight-to-DVD and therefore doesn’t qualify as real Disney 😔

#disney #once upon a studio #disney100 #disney 100 #oswald the lucky rabbit #<- the only character I’m tagging

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slaviclore · 4 months

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Some context for ppl watching 1670 without much Polish history background:

I think anyone watching can sense that Jan Paweł's dream of becoming king of Poland is super far fetched and the only reason he thinks it's even remotely possible is because of his ridiculous pride, BUT there's a lot of irony that's easy to miss...

The thing is he technically can become king of Poland.

The monarchy in Poland in this era was elective, meaning a group of people (the nobles) had voting power to nominate and elect their king. The way you got to be king is you had the support of powerful families (often thru strategic marriages) and the support of the voting nobility (thru campaigning/bribery/shenanigans/etc), so Jan Paweł literally COULD someday be king if it weren't for the dooming ironies that apparently fly right over his head:

he has somehow managed to raise a daughter who is the last person on planet earth who would marry for power and who has a crush on a peasant, and

all his friends in the nobility think he's a pain in the ass

so just like we know that his dream of becoming the "most famous Jan Paweł in the history of Poland" is hilariously doomed because probably the single most famous person ever in the history of Poland is a different guy named Jan Paweł, it's not that his dream of being king is just far-fetched -- it's that it's specifically doomed by the over-arching ironies of his character.

#1670 #i'm almost done i swear

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reiderwriter · 8 months

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The Us That Could Have Been

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU Reader

Requested: yes - role reversal of the player!Spencer fic I posted here!

W/C: 5.7k

Summary: They say if you want to get over one man, you have to get under another. Spencer isn't so sure why he dislikes the idea of you doing that quite so much.

Warnings: Mentions of Maeve, spoilers for S8, mentions of minor character deaths, smut, unprotected sex, creampie, angst.

A/N: I'm not going to apologise for this one... Have fun.

Find the rest of my masterlist here.

If you were a genius, you’d know that it took you three hours, twenty-three minutes, and six seconds to fall in love with Spencer Reid. If you were a genius, you’d also know that it took him five years, seven months, twenty-seven days, and two hours to the second for him to break your heart. The thing you were learning about geniuses though, is that they were the most oblivious people on the planet.

Her name was Maeve, he had told all of you. And he needed your help to save her because he was in love with her. And of course, you went along with it, you tried your best even while your heart was cracked in two because at this point, you couldn’t stand the desperation on his face. The day he told you about her, only days before he died, you cried in the arms of Penelope Garcia for hours, letting her console you as you felt your world get flipped upside down.

“I don’t know why I’m feeling like this, god, Penelope. Five years, and I knew, I knew that if he liked me like that something would have happened already, but I just…” She rubbed your back as you laid your head on her shoulder, letting your tears fall freely as the sobs wracked through your body.

“I’ve been in love with him for five years and he never even noticed, and… Penelope he hasn’t seen this girl before and he’s desperate for her. What about me is so unlovable?” Your voice cracked as you broke down again, burying your head in your friend's arms as you let all the emotions hit you at once.

“Y/N you listen to me right now. You are not unlovable, you have never been unlovable. If Spencer cannot see what is right in front of him, then he is an idiot. You are the most amazing thing that has happened to him, you’re a great friend, you’re smart, you’re beautiful-”

“I’m not her. Penelope, I… I want to be her-” She held you as you emptied yourself for hours, crying until you were so physically exhausted that you just couldn’t anymore. You couldn’t say that you stopped crying per se, just that your body ran out of emotions to sustain you.

“Okay, Y/N, here’s what you’re going to do now,” Penelope said. She’d heard you out for long enough, but she wasn’t going to let you be miserable for long.

“You’re going to pick yourself up, take care of yourself. Get a haircut, dye your hair, whatever you need to do to get some change. And then you’re going to do your goddamn best to forget him, because if he’s too stupid to realize how special and amazing you are then he really doesn’t deserve you.” You sniffled a bit and nodded at her words.

“And then, you’re going to get back out there. Y/N, when was the last time you went on a date?”

“I don’t know it’s been… The last one I can remember was before I entered the BAU. I’ve just been so busy-”

“Bullshit. You’re going to put yourself back out there and find a man, or multiple men, who actually value you and want you. A wise scholar once said the best way to get over a man is to get under another.”

–X–

A year later and you’d probably taken Penelope’s words to heart a little bit too much. Maeve had died at the hands of her stalker not even a day later, and you felt terrible for Spencer, but he’d pushed you away, he’d pushed everyone away, so you’d decided she was right.

Your first date had been a few weeks later, and you’d have liked the fact that you’d taken him back to your place and then immediately kicked him out and never seen him again after that to stay a secret. But the BAU copycat didn’t let any of your business stay within the team for long. He had pictures of you with the first guy, the guy from a week later, and the guy after him as well. By the time you’d figured out who the copycat murderer who’d sent you all Zugzwang-themed threats was, he’d got pictures of you locking lips with five separate one-night stands.

The team had said nothing about it, of course, except Hotch’s private aside asking if any of the men in the pictures needed informing about the situation. You’d had to admit to them that you’d not seen any of them since, and, with no reaction from Spencer, you’d felt almost vindicated in taking this step.

If he didn’t care then, in those tense months where you were all leaning on each other for support, reeling from the death of Erin Strauss and the attacks on the team, closer than you’d really ever been before, then he wouldn’t ever care.

The thought was freeing. So you’d kept up with your constant stream of men, not letting them get close enough to hurt you in the way that Spencer had, using them and discarding them like broken toys, ignoring that maybe it was you that was the broken one.

It took a year for him to notice it. A year of you coming in with suspicious bruises on your neck that you laughed off, a year of your newfound confidence, a year of your conscious distance for him to notice that he missed you. It was slow at first. In those first few months, he just accepted that of course, you’d been seeing people. He’d assumed from the photographs everyone had seen that you’d been dating the entire time he’d known you, the feeling unsettling him a little, but he thought that was only because he’d never noticed.

Now it was all he could notice. The way you’d walk in sometimes smelling unfamiliar, having showered at a hookup's place before taking off, the way you were suddenly open to the flirting by the local PDs on your cases. The way a sadness seeped into his chest every time he saw you with someone else. Envy wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with, so it took him stupidly long to name the emotion.

You were back at O’Keefe’s after a local case successfully closed, and if you were drinking a lot, no one mentioned it. No one except Spencer, who’d made it his objective to keep you safe and by his side the entire night, for reasons he couldn’t even name. It was stifling, having him constantly hovering over you.

“Spencer, lighten up a bit, have a drink.” You smiled up at him, trying to get him to loosen up so you could escape the way his sudden care was making you feel. The bartender was eyeing you up from his place behind the bar, and while you were usually careful not to get involved with men whom you’d likely run across again, you were throwing caution to the wind that day.

“I’ll have a drink if you drink some water and slow down a bit, Y/N.” He handed you the glass he’d retrieved earlier and you sipped it slowly, squirming under the care in his gaze. He ordered a drink, and you eyed up the bartender as he did so, pushing Spencer’s hand off your hip as he approached, offering him a smile. He looked between you and the unfamiliar man, and felt a cold flash in his veins, waiting for his drink and then pulling you away back to the table with the rest of your friends, tangling your hand with his.

You pulled out of his grip but followed him dutifully. He guided you into your seat quickly, brushing your hair out of your eyes before falling back into conversation with the rest of the team. You hated the way he could still make your heart stutter, still have you feeling hot all over from a single touch, and you felt trapped in the booth, screaming for a way out.

Your chance came an hour later, when he excused himself to the bathroom, and you excused yourself as well, running back up to the bar. When he came back, you were gone.

“Where is Y/N?” He asked with a scowl, cursing himself for letting his eyes off you for even a second when you’d drank so much that night, having come back to suggest you turn in for the night, getting ready to offer you a ride home.

“Y/N? By now, she’s either in the back room with the bartender or she’s convinced him to get off early and head back to hers,” Morgan chuckled, taking a swig of his drink. “Took her only two minutes of conversation to have him inviting her out the back entrance, she’s been gone for like five minutes now.

The constricted feeling settled in his chest again, as his scowl deepened. Not knowing why he was feeling so goddamn destroyed by that statement, he let his head hang and left the bar himself, taking himself outside to get in his car and go home. Unbeknownst to him, you watched him leave from the alley behind the bar, the bartender placing open-mouthed kisses on your exposed neck as you buried your worryingly consistent feelings in the scent of bourbon and lust.

The next week is rough for both of you. You laugh and play along with Morgan’s jokes about your game, keeping an eye out for him the entire time and ending all the conversations as you feel him enter the room or step closer. It doesn’t stop him from hearing it all, though, all the details about your sex life tormenting him, as he boils with anger at how wreckless you’re being with your constant stream of guys.

“Mama, you were on fire last week. Took you only two minutes to disappear with that guy, you’re going to have to let me in on your secrets,” Morgan laughed from his perch on your desk.

“Sorry, a magician never reveals her secrets, and what I do is definitely magic.” Your tone was suggestive and set the man off in a booming laugh, but with your back to the door, you hadn’t heard Spencer’s entrance.

“The secret is that men are more accepting of casual hook-ups with strangers than women,” he snapped at you both, beginning to ramble as you both looked up at him in shock.

“Okay, kid, I was just joking-”

“When surveyed over 75% of men said they would be willing to have sex with a complete stranger, vs. 0% of women, and while that’s just one study, there are multiple others that I could quote that have similar results.”

“Spencer,” you chastised him, but he didn’t stop.

“What? Did you want to know when posing the question of an affair to people in a relationship that 18% of men reacted positively to having casual sex with a stranger, and surprisingly 4% of women also reacted in the affirmative? Did you ask that guy if he had a girlfriend before you fell into his bed, Y/N?”

“Okay, that’s enough, Spencer, take a walk. I don’t know what’s up with you today, but that was out of line. Hotch is looking for you in his office.” The words came from Morgan, but he kept his eyes locked with yours as he was scolded, memorizing the look of pain in your eyes as he finally backed away.

He didn’t know why he did it. He knew it would hurt you, and yet he continued anyway, even after you’d begged him to stop. He was hurt, and he didn’t know why, and he didn’t think he had any reason to be hurt, and somehow it was all because you’d been in the back of his mind constantly for as long as he could remember.

–X–

“Okay, girl’s night, my place, tomorrow night. There are no cases, and I managed to get Hotch to agree to let us put our phones on silent for the night, so it’s just me, you, JJ, and Blake, a bottle of wine and some good old-fashioned girl talk, what do you say?” Penelope asked you gleefully in the break room one day as you both prepared your drinks for a busy day of paperwork ahead.

“I’m sorry, Pen, I have plans already.” You grinned up at her as she pouted, promising to make it up to her another time. You didn’t offer an explanation though, just excusing yourself back to your desk and letting her know that you’d make it up to her another time.

Reid took your place as soon as you vacated it. Almost obsessively, he’d been following you around like a lost puppy since he’d exploded on you the other day.

“I know you said girls’ night but… Could... Could I come? I think I need some uh, girl talk?” He asked Penelope, an awkward, embarrassed look on his face as he smiled tensely. If anyone knew what was wrong with him, recently, it would be them.

Last year, he’d have said it was you, but the distance he’d felt recently, combined with the fact that he was almost 90% sure you were the root of his problems had him desperate for other opinions.

“Oh. Are you sure, Spencer, we’ll be talking about all kinds of gross women stuff?”

“I was raised by a single mother. I’m sure nothing you say could gross me out. Please?” She nodded her approval telling him what time to get there and to bring his beverage of choice, knowing he didn’t really drink wine all that much if he could help it.

He turned up twenty minutes late, after spending a great deal of time pacing outside of Penelope’s apartment building wondering if he had any right to unburden himself on them like this. Pacing he wondered whether you’d actually showed up despite your mysterious plans and whether this had been all for naught anyway.

When he eventually knocked on the door, Penelope opened it and greeted him with a warm hug. “We were wondering when you were going to knock on the door, one more minute and we were going to come out to get you.”

JJ stood up to hug him, wine glass in her hand, and Blake offered him a wave from her perch on the couch. He took off his scarf and coat and accepted the glass of water Penelope offered him, settling into a chair opposite the three women.

“Penelope said you wanted advice about something?” Blake was the first to enquire, the three of them getting straight into it, not letting him chicken out of it.

“Yeah, I think so. Lately, I’ve been having these, I don’t know, weird feelings…”

“Oh god, I thought I was a few years out from having the talk with someone,” JJ joked, but Penelope shushed her quickly after a quick snicker, letting him continue.

“I’ve been… I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been acting really weird around Y/N, and I can’t figure out why.” He finally pushed the words out, feeling a weight off his chest at the confession.

“You can’t?” The room was silent for a minute as they looked at each other, and he looked at them looking at each other, wondering what it was exactly that he’d missed.

“Yeah? I don’t know, every time I see her I just want to, I don’t know, have her attention on me, even if I have to say something a little mean to get it. And in the bar that time, I was so, I don’t know hurt, I guess, when she disappeared without saying goodbye.”

They just listened to him go on, not stopping to interrupt him, so he continued.

“And there’s been this weird distance between us lately, and I guess it’s been there for a while, but I miss her, but she’s still there. I can still talk to her, and I can still spend time with her but I miss her all the time.”

“Spencer,” Blake said with a soft voice. “Since when have you been feeling like this?”

“I don’t know, I guess it started after everything happened with Strauss and the copycat in New York. But she’s always been… I don’t know, closer than most people? But every time I think we’re getting back to normal recently, she pulls away again and there’s this… void where she should be.”

JJ put her drink down and leaned a little closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Spencer, I think you might be in love with her.” He considered the words for a moment, before getting ready to dismiss them.

“No, love is a good emotion, this doesn’t feel good, it feels… ugly.” Blake stared at him sympathetically, calmly talking him around.

“Spencer, think about it. You’re protective over her, you don’t like seeing her with other people, this all started right around the time the copycat sent those pictures of her with other people. It is love, and it’s jealousy, too.”

The words hit him like a tonne of bricks as he suddenly felt the full force of his words. He was in love with you.

“Oh god, what do I do?” He held his head in his hands, and Penelope scoffed a little from her seat, the rest of them turning to look at him.

“I’m sorry, you’re going to have to figure this one out on your own genius.” She said with a slightly sharp tone, and even the girls sent her questioning stares as she continued.

“You don’t just get to decide that you want her after all this time, not after how you’ve been treating her these last few months.” She turns her head away a little bit and sips her drink, her tough-love approach leaving him slightly defeated.

“Penelope, do you know something?” Blake asks firmly, trying to coax some answers out of her.

“If I did, I’d be under a strict oath not to tell anyone. And I wouldn’t want to considering how much pain she was in when she made me swear never to tell anyone.” It was clear from the tone of her voice that she really wanted to say something though, the words desperate to spill out.

“Penelope, your loyalty is commendable, but don’t you think what you have to say could help both of them?” JJ quietly coaxed out of her, and she finally gave in.

“Okay, but if you hurt her, Spencer Reid, I will never forgive you ever again.” He nodded quickly, hanging onto her every word.

“Think about what else happened a year ago.” She encouraged him, and for a moment, he was coming up blank.

“A year ago? We were in the middle of the copycat case. Strauss had just been killed. We were close to being pulled off the case-”

“You got a girlfriend, Spencer. You came in one day out of the blue and just announced that you were in love with someone you hadn’t met, and you didn’t realize that you were torturing her.” Penelope tried really hard not to snap at him, but his ignorance of your feelings was frustrating, to say the least.

“What Penelope is trying to say, Spencer, is that we think Y/N was in love with you, too,” JJ added, softening the blow. “And finding out you didn’t feel the same way so suddenly was, well it was a shock to all of us really.”

“What Penelope is trying to say is that she spent six hours with me crying into this couch, and then picked herself up and helped you try to save the woman you had chosen over her. So yeah, she’s been a bit distant, but can you really blame her?”

“She… She was in love with me?” His heart stopped for a second, dropping to the pit of his stomach as he thought back to those days, how you’d acted around him, the smiles that hadn’t reached your eyes, the reassurances that he’d brushed off, so desperate to help Maeve.

“Honestly, until you told us about Maeve, I thought you two had something going on,” Blake added.

“We used to have an office bet when Emily was around about which of the two of you would confess first,” JJ admitted shyly.

“Oh, god.” He let his head hang a little in shame. “Do you… do you think she still feels the same?”

They shared another glance at each other again, and he panicked trying desperately to decode whatever it was that had just passed between them.

“Look, we shouldn’t profile each other but… It’s not a coincidence that all of her hookups tend to happen after you pay her some attention.” Blake observed, letting Reid fill in the blanks of her statement.

“That might be my fault actually, I told her the best way to get over you is to get under someone else.”

“I don’t want her under someone else,” he stated then, cutting himself off before he could say anything else too damning.

“She’s not here tonight, why isn’t she here?” He panicked looking frantically around the room for answers, but none of them knew really.

“She said she had plans, but she didn’t tell me what they are.”

“Do you think she’s… do you think she’s with…” He couldn’t finish the thought, instead bolting upright and gathering his things.

“I need to go.” He let out, as the women cheered behind him, finally happy that he was taking action. Penelope shouted your address at him as he left as if he didn’t already have it memorized, running out in the rain, his feet carrying him to your apartment.

He saw the light on when he approached, thankful that you were still there, and bounded up the stairs to your floor, not giving himself time to second guess this before he pounded on your door.

You pulled the door open, a confused look on your face as you greeted him, his chest heaving, water dripping down his face. He looked like a mess.

“Are you alone?” He gasped out, having to pause between each word to catch his breath.

“Spencer, what are you doing-” The breath left your body as he leaned into you, catching you around the hips and walking you back into your apartment, your back hitting the wall behind you as he rested his forehead against your own, chest still desperately drawing in oxygen.

“Please, please tell me right now if there’s someone here with you. If there is, I’ll leave, if there isn’t…” His gaze fell to your lips and your entire body lit up, the haze of your confusion finally lifting as you took in each of his words. His lips moved forward, seconds from connecting with your own when his question was finally answered.

“Y/N? Who is it?” The voice was male, and it was coming from your living room, but it was all Spencer needed to know as he detangled himself from you, pushing his wet hair out of his face and putting some distance between you two, muttering apologies as he backed out of the door again.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… I’m sorry,” he said, quickly turning away from you and leaving your apartment quickly.

“Spencer, wait-” You tried to yell after him, but it was too late. He had disappeared into the night, as quickly as he came.

You returned to the living room, cursing yourself for not answering quickly enough as you crawled back into the seat you’d just left.

“What was all that?” Your brother asked from his perch, shoveling popcorn into his mouth in a way that had you somehow even more pissed at him for the simple fact of his existence.

“That was Spencer. He… God, I think he thinks I’m in here with a guy.”

–X–

The next few days at work were tense, as you desperately tried everything to catch his eye. But you weren’t sure why you were putting in so much effort. He was the one who had burst into your apartment and practically begged you for your attention, why were you now the one chasing him?

Needless to say, you took your frustrations straight to Penelope Monday morning.

“And then he left without letting me explain that it was my brother, and he hasn’t talked to me once this morning, he keeps running away from me and I don’t even know what the fuck it was he was trying to gain from all that and- ughh he is so dense.”

Penelope had sensed the oncoming disaster the moment she’d seen your social media post about your brother’s visit Saturday morning, and you only confirmed all her fears as you unloaded onto her. She silently cursed Spencer as well, and once she’d given you some reassurance and reminded you that you had some case files on your desk that were urgent and distracting enough to calm you down, she practically lept from her seat to hunt Reid down.

“Spencer Reid, you get your ass in my office right this second,” she whisper screamed at him in the breakroom, his sunken eyes showing that his jump to conclusions had left him in a poor emotional state. He jolted at her words, as she watched to see if you noticed the two of them before practically frog-marching him off down the hall.

“What the hell happened? We sent you off to confess your feelings, and you what? Pin her to the wall and breathe down her neck before running off with your tail between your legs?”

He looked down guiltily before replying. “She had a guy there, Penelope, I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to get rejected like that.”

“She did not have a guy there, Spencer, she had her brother there.” She pulled up your post on her phone and thrust it in his face as she watched his eyes go wide at his own stupidity, clutching the phone as he read your words.

“And if you weren’t a coward, you’d have stayed and told her even if she did actually have someone over.”

He’d since tuned out her words though, the crushing weight of his almost-confession that had been stuck to him since the weekend dissipating slowly.

“This is her brother?” He looked up at you again, desperate to confirm the words she’d already said.

“Yes. You’d know that if you weren’t such a technophobic freak. I love you but this is the 21st Century and you’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, I am.” He handed her the phone back and slunk out of the office, and back to his desk. He had a chance to try again, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up this time.

–X–

You didn’t know how you knew that night, but when you heard the knock at your door, you knew it was him.

You hesitated before reaching for the door handle, pulling it open, and confirming your suspicions.

“Hi.” You said, and he returned the greeting with a mumble of his own before the two of you fell into silence again. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but couldn’t, instead letting his gaze fall to your lips. You heard the hidden question in his look and opened the door a little wider.

It took only a moment for him to come crashing into you, hands holding your face as his lips met yours in a passionate embrace, drinking you in as again walked you back into your apartment, not even breaking away as he closed the door behind you.

You wrapped your arms up and around his neck, as you let his hands fall to your hips, your chest, your ass, exploring every part of your body he could reach as you stood caught up in each other. In your desperation for each other, you hit walls, and bumped into tables, finally stopping at your kitchen island as he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he started pressing kisses down the hollow of your neck.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered between kisses. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was your brother and I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, and I’m sorry I’ve been so weird recently.” You pulled his face back up to your own claiming his lips in yours once again, swallowing each of his other apologies.

He pulled away again, looking at you tenderly as he lifted you into his arms and gently carried you into your room, laying you down on your bed.

“I love you,” he whispered, and the words broke you. You’d spent five years practically begging him to say them, and another year since trying to bury even the very idea of him feeling the same way deep inside you. Tears fell from your eyes and he kissed each one of them away, muttering confessions into your skin.

“I love you, please don’t cry.”

“I love you, you’re so beautiful.”

“I love you and I’m so so sorry.” You pushed him away again slightly, regaining enough of your composure to finally talk again.

“I need to know that you’re serious, Spencer. I can’t… I can’t do this if you’re not totally sure, because it will destroy me.” Your voice broke as the words stumbled over the knot in your throat, your hands balled into his shirt, legs still wrapped around him.

“I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt you ever again.” He pressed his lips back into yours again, and you let the kiss deepen, lips slanting over each other in desperation as the need to be joined overtook your body.

He lifted your skirt, trailing a hand between the two of you as he checked your arousal. You could feel his cock pressing into your thigh, desperate to be freed from it’s restraints. He began kissing his way down your naval, but you pulled him back up.

“No, I need you now. There will be time for that later, but if you don’t do this now I think I’ll drive myself mad with wanting.” His lips reconnected with yours again as you began divesting yourselves of clothing, and within another two minutes, he was pressing into you, muttering more adoring serenades into your skin as he began catching the tears escaping your eyes again.

“Yes, Spencer, more please,” you moaned underneath him, legs tight around him as he began thrusting into you with a ferocity you hadn’t felt from him before. It was tender, but you were both desperate, after months of separation, to come back into one another.

Your lips and teeth clashed together as you let the room echo with your moans, his moans, and the sound of your skin slapping against each other. His forehead came to rest against your own as he grew closer to his release, lips disconnecting as you just stared into each other's eyes in that moment, seeing each other truly for the very first time.

“Y/N, I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum.” He pressed down into you harder, looking down to the place where you were joined and letting out a whispered curse as he watched you take every inch of him. His hips stuttered then, and you felt your own climax reach you as you felt him release into you, his lips softly tracing your own as you breathed each other in again.

He pulled out and immediately went to work making sure you were comfortable, propping you up on the bed, making sure the pillows behind you were plump and soft, and running off to find something to clean yourself up with. You watched him silently, again brushing some of the tears from your eyes.

“How do you feel?” He said shyly as he returned, having pulled his pants back on at least as he bought you a glass of water. You offered him a small smile and a thank you as you replied.

“I think… I think we need to talk, Spencer.” You said, not meeting his eyes as he looked down at you attentively.

“Why did you come tonight, Spencer?” You asked, voice so quiet you resisted the urge to repeat the question, knowing that he heard you perfectly clearly,

“I needed to tell you how I feel. It’s been staring me in the face for six years, and I somehow didn’t know, but once I did I just… I needed you to know.” You nodded at his words, standing still in front of you on the bed as you swung your legs off and asked him to pass you your nightdress back. You pulled it on over your head as you asked him your next question.

“Why did you run away the other day?”

“I didn’t know it was your brother, Y/N, I should’ve-”

“It shouldn’t have mattered who it was. If you love me, you should fight for me, right? The way you fought for Maeve.” Your tears start falling again as you open the wound that brought you this far.

“Y/N, that was… That was different-” You can hear the panic in his voice as he tries to come up with the words to explain himself.

“Spencer, if.. If it’s different then I think you should leave. If you don’t love me the same way you loved her, then there’s no point starting something.”

“Y/N, please.”

“No, Spencer. I have spent six years of my life filled with nothing but love for you. I wake up and think about you, I go to bed and you’re still there in the back of my mind. My every action is informed by your presence and I am so, so tired. So if you do not feel the same way, you need to turn around and leave this apartment.”

The silence between you is thick, as you stare up at him through your tears, face stern as you push him away.

He gathers his things. Moves towards the door and doesn’t say anything, and just as you’re about to break down, to let the sob burst from your chest in an agonized wail, you hear your front door close behind him, and you’re left alone in the empty apartment, stuck in the purgatory of your love for him, unable to move an inch.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #maeve donovan #maturereiding

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woodlandwrites · 2 months

Text

i. mind over matter

aphrodite!reader x luke castellan

pre-tlt, characters 18+, mdni, def going to be a pt.2

warnings: cursing, whole lotta impertinence!

2.7k read - unedited

You have been plagued by flocks of doves and Luke Castellan. So Aphrodite decides to meddle a little a lot in your love life. Who needs memories anyway? Unfortunately, the only person you find comfort in - is the very person you hate.

A/N: first fic in a loooong time - stick with me here. there will be more parts and maybeee some spice? anyways hope you enjoy!

You’d like to think that Aphrodite loved the game of making you miserable. In retrospect, you hated your mother. She was a hard act to follow.

Don’t jump to conclusions - you loved your cabin. Your brothers and sisters were wonderful - not vain like most campers would say. No, that was not an issue. The problem started with one slender, curly haired, crooked smile boy - Luke Castellan. He was the golden boy of Camp Half-Blood and the bane of your existence.

Luke was an astonishingly aggravating self-centered egotistical bigot.

“Why do you hate him so much,” Silena asked one day out of the blue. You both sat in the stands watching Luke teach his swordsmanship class. You pondered her question for a while.

“Because. He confuses me - and aggravates me constantly. I have never met anyone so full of themselves in my entire life. He is Narcissus reborn again. It also does not help that he is a complete jerk,” you nodded as you ate another fresh strawberry. Silena pondered on your words.

“Are you sure this has nothing to do with mom and the whole..argument,” she said in a cautionary tone.

Silena was the only one who knew about you and Aphrodite’s - complicated past. To be fair - she didn’t know the entire truth. The prophecy, the impertinence, all the bullshit. However, she did know that your shoulders seemed to tense every time Aphrodite’s name was mentioned.

“I mean every time I have talked to him at camp counselor meetings he seems like an alright guy.

Silena - forever the optimist. Sometimes when you looked at her through the corner of your eye she resembled your mother. She had this soft tone and locks of hair that seemed to always catch the wind just right. Yeah, no wonder Luke was nice to her. Selina was extremely beautiful - Beckendorf struck gold.

“Yeah, I can see right through the façade-” you were cut off by a dove landing next to you. He started pecking at your strawberries mindlessly. Silena stifled a small giggle.

“It is funny when it isn’t happening to you. The bastards have been following me around for days,” you said annoyed.

You tried scaring the bird away - only for more to return. After a couple minutes an estimated 20 doves flocked around you mimicking every move.

“Go away!” you screamed - only for the feathered friends to cock their heads in curiosity. By now, the entire arena seemed to convert their attention to you.

“Hey! I heard if they shit on your head it’ll bring good luck,” Luke echoed watching amused.

He leaned against his sword in a cocky manner. What an asshole - you hated when he did that. The other campers seemed to laugh along.

“Up yours, Castellan,” you yelled with a face the color of cherries.

The doves had now increased their army to a solid 50 - all looking to you for a further instruction. Doves had followed you around your entire life - a gift your mother had bestowed to you. The unfortunate part was that they were pretty much the most non obedient monsters on the entire planet. You never had truly understood why they would appear - most of the time it was a random occurrence. Of course - Luke was always there to revel in your misfortune. You still had not forgotten when the doves caused a complete riot last month at dinner - leaving quite a mess for you to clean up. The younger campers were still traumatized.

That was the thing about doves - they were just like your mother. At first they are nice to look at, almost sweet. That is until they turn into vicious assailants from Tartarus (Silena says you overreact). They also annoy you - another common attribute with your mother.

“For Gods sake just leave!,” you yelled again, stomping off, bidding Silena goodbye.

You did not want to continue being entertainment for the rest of the campers. The doves seemed to take the hint - maintaining their place in the stands. You were sure there were some week old snacks stuffed between the seats the rotted things could ravish on. Luke chuckled before turning his attention back to his students.

The sun was setting and soon it would be dinner - but you still sat in bed thinking about what Silena had mentioned early about your mom. Maybe it was your nerves - but you knew a visit soon would be unavoidable. The doves only confirmed your suspicion. It was rare for gods to visit Camp Half-Blood, at least publically. The closest thing the camp had to godliness was Mr. D - what a joke. However, you knew your mother and her constant desire to meddle with your life.

Dinner went without a hunch - except for the Stoll twins starting a food fight at the Hermes table. You loved quiet nights like these where the summer breeze feels like a warm hug. Silena nudged you - reading her expression you knew she was inquiring about the events from earlier. A shrug sufficed. You were so caught up in laughing with your siblings you failed to notice the yelling from the other side of the pavilion.

“One of the Ares girls was flirting with Luke after you left today - Charlie and I could not help but laugh. It was so awkward,” Silena mentioned.

There were a couple of murmured sounds and gawking from your siblings - which was the usual. If there was one thing they loved it was - well - love. However this subject rubbed you the wrong way - maybe it was just Luke’s name being mentioned.

It felt like a suffocating gut punch and it was most likely your mothers doing. If there was anything she loved more it was demigod love - the trials and tribulations - and of course the unfortunate ends. It quite literally made you sick. But why did Luke have to be roped in it and moreover - why did you care? You smiled and nodded - trying to pay attention and not let the thoughts take over.

“Get these goddamn things off of me!,” a familiar voice yelled in annoyance.

So wrapped up in thought - you failed to care - assuming it was a practical Hephaestus joke with an Ares kid. Selina quickly nudged you pointing towards the Hermes table - for quite an interesting scene. Luke being attacked by a merciless army of doves.

“Hey Castellan, let them shit on your head - heard it was good luck!,” the words reflected from just a few hours prior.

You couldn’t help but giggle - it was nice not being the receiver of dove aggravated assault (as Beckendorf had termed it). It was also nice not to be the joke for once - everyone laughing at someone else for a change was different.

“Call the damn things off,” he struggled - yelling your name in the process.

“Why do you automatically assume I am the one who set them off? They just do what they want!” you retorted.

Silena looked at you - questioning your motives. He struggled even more as the doves thrashed him around - seemling gaining confidence in their blows. They seemed - deadly - more than before. Silena muttered your name.

“You have to try,” Silena persuaded. Reluctantly you obeyed - knowing she was being more serious than she was putting on.

“Stop!” you yelled sternly to the winged creatures.

Like usual - they did not obey. Unfortunately, they keep going - tearing Luke’s shirt in the process. He held himself quite well against dove assassins - a fact you did not want to admit to yourself.

“παύω!” You spoke - pleading that it would end.

It was all your mothers fault. She wanted you to be miserable. She wanted to ruin your night, humiliate you - and to hurt Luke. You weren’t sure why that last part bothered you so much.

“Φεύγω!” you screamed once more in an earthshaking tone.

The doves dissipated automatically. Like literally - poof - into dust. Again - the entire camp had its eyes on you - what else was new?

“What is wrong with you,” Luke questioned - still astonished at the sheer power of your voice - that very voice that made doves disintegrate. You slowly looked up at his disheveled appearance - he looked worse.

Beautiful.

You wish that voice in your head would go suck a dick!

“Shows over, enjoy your dessert,” you said bitterly to the crowd taking a bow.

Silena yelled your name but you had already darted towards the woods. You could hear the muttering of the crowd questioning the evening entertainment. You could not seem to care.

You took a seat in the sand on the beach overlooking the shore. The moonlight seemed to make the water sparkle like diamonds. You felt almost calm here - no one to distract you from your thoughts. Why did his words strike you like a knife? He might as well plant backbiter into your back, it would hurt less. It all led to the proper question - why? Why would the doves attack him anyway? They had never done anything quite so ruthless before - nevertheless to another sole person.

Then again - it was always about Luke - ever since you got to the infernal camp. He was probably celebrated for his brave victory in the battle of the doves - hoisted up by other campers. You suppose a feast in his honor was in order.

“You think such unhappy thoughts,” an angelic voice sang from the sea.

Your attention turned towards a bundle of sea foam. The foam began to sparkle and mangle to take the shape of a woman the closer it got to shore. Soon after your mother - Aphrodite stood before you - in all her glory.

“I thought seafoam was just whale jizz,” you spoke casually. You chucked at yourself that was a good one!

Of - fucking - course. Your mother was behind the entire dove fiasco - you called it. You should start placing bets at this point.

“Most would be labeled impertinent with that attitude - especially with a God.”

“I am impertinent.” You shrugged, pulling your knees to your chest. Maybe if you really ignored her she would disappear.

“I will not disappear yet - we have much to discuss.”

“Get out of my head.”

“I heard what occurred tonight at dinner. Shame, doves are very gentle creatures.”

A dove magically appeared in her hands, letting out a soft coo. You cringed. If you saw another dove tonight - you might just roast it and eat it.

“So that was you?” You asked venomously.

“Well thanks mom! Now the entire camp thinks I tried to kill the golden boy with a league of killer doves. They all think I am absolutely crazy.”

“I did nothing, my child.” You gawked at her - she paused to collect her thoughts.

“However, you might want to look within yourself before you spit accusations that are not true. I merely gave you a gift - how you use it is at your own expense.” She finished.

“But I don’t control those horrid things - they just show up and do whatever. Why would I even attack Luke with a bunch of wimpy doves?”

That was your mother, having the audacity to say you caused the incident. That it was all your fault.

“Love, perhaps?” Her eyes seemed to glitter at the thought.

“No.” Ugh, not this again, you thought.

“Doves are a mere - personification of one’s inner love. That is why I gave you the gift - so your innermost feelings can never be bottled. That does horrid things to one’s complexion.”

“Well thanks for the shitty gift, mother. Next time maybe a pair of socks will do the trick.”

“Why do you insist on denying who you are? Denying what you are destined to become? Denying yourself the love of the century?”

“Why love someone if they eventually will die.” It was true. Your father had died when you were young - leaving you an orphan. Your demigod friends you made throughout the years died horrible unspeakable deaths.

“Isn’t that all the more fun?”

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you? You just love to see me suffer?”

“You’re being rash.” She fired back.

“Rash? Where have you been?” You scoffed at your godly mother.

“Child, I do not write destiny - I only enforce it. I know you more than you would like to admit, sweet dove. And you - are in love with the child of Hermes.”

Apollo could’ve shot you through the chest - it would have felt better.

“Mother, you have it mixed up - I do not have any feelings for Luke. You’re just making things up because you are bored and need some excitement. Please go back to Olympus and meddle with someone else’s life,” you stated. You staggered to your feet dusting the sand off.

Before you could walk away a bolt of pure energy hit you in your spine. You flew to your feet hitting the ground with a hard thud. In a blur your mother was standing proud above your feet - surrounded in a pink aura.

“Luke Castellan, he will keep you safe - and you will keep him steady.”

You might have thought to curse at her - but you couldn’t speak - let alone move. She had disappeared from vision leaving only a dove in her wake. The pain - was excruciating - like being electrocuted a million times. Your ears rang terrible tunes as you tried to level yourself - only to fall back down. The world was spinning at an unmeasurable pace. You could hear shrill screaming - or was it yours? You weren’t even sure who you were? Only images of dark curls, broad shoulders, and crooked smiles flashed through your vision.

A quake of footsteps running towards the shore were felt as you thrashed in the sand. Voices - yelling a name - whose name? You couldn’t recall. All you knew was darkness.

“Y/N?!” a feminine voice called. You could feel her hands shake your shoulder violently - it felt like knives.

You heard screams - this time knowing it was your shrill cry. You pushed her away with force. You backed away, crawling backwards in desperation.

Once your vision returned you focused to see a swarm of kids all in orange shirts - staring at you in shock. The girl who touched you - you could only assume was kneeling in the sand in front of you. She seemed to be pleading.

“Stay away, please,” you pleaded with tears streaming from your eyes. You weren’t sure what had happened but you knew you had never felt pain so deeply.

“Y/N, please you were screaming. We only want to make sure you are okay. We can go to the infirmary and figure it out,” the girl reached out only for you to retreat more. You hyperventilate on your own words.

“What’s going on?” another voice asked with urgency from beyond the crowd.

Every child seemed to turn their attention to focus on the male figure. Pushing his way through the crowd - he became shocked at the scene before him.

However, you felt as if all the oxygen had left your body - leaving you limp. You felt as if a hand had grabbed your heart and ripped it in two. He was the one - the one you had seen in your visions.

“Y/N?” he questioned - half concerned, half annoyed. His chocolate eyes seemed to lock ever so easily with yours. He was indeed the most beautiful man you had ever seen - like a carving of marble. Your soul ached. Without a thought - on instinct alone - you ran. He was engulfed in a desperate hug - his shoulder muffled your pitiful cries.

“Please, you’re the only one who can help.” You could feel the eyes on the two of you - the gasps were hard to ignore. He went stiff in his posture - not sure how to react. Silence fell over the entire shore, only the crashing of waves in the background.

“Y/N what is going on? Is this some sort of prank?” he asked in disbelief.

He had never seen you like this - so scared. Some small part of him wanted to scoop you up, hold you tight, and tell you everything would be okay. He wanted to tell you how he would fix all your problems - just so he would never see you cry again. Although these feelings were so suppressed he restrained.

Gods you were beautiful.

“I- I don’t know who Y/N is. I don’t know anyone. I don’t know me.”

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackson x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #luke castellan x aphrodite!reader #pjo fanfic #pjo #Spotify

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searchingforserendipity25 · 4 months

Text

There are some things Davenport knows.

He counts them sometimes, the things he knows.

His name; how to tie his shoes with twelve different knots; how the Madame Director likes her coffee.

The rules of playing Fantasy Chess, and how to cheat at Fantasy Chess too.

How to tell when someone is afraid

How to make his bed, so tight and neat he can drop a coin on it and it jumps, newly polished and gleaming, right back into his hand

How to bandage up to twenty different kinds of injuries

How to make the best sea chowder on the Moon Base, and also on the planet

How to press a uniform so it lasts a week and several explosions with no crinkled corners

How to organise reports with proper colour-coding techniques

Not a great many words, when it comes to that - slippery as fishtails, words, hard to grasp in the mind and impossible to put into his mouth

How to laugh, and how to cry

How to be helpful, if not always in the most efficient way

Some very complicated geometry and arithmetic, though not the word for geometry, nor how to write down an equation to explain how he got his results.His name, the names of his colleagues, where he is, what time of the day it is, what happened yesterday.

His name, his name, even when he doesn't know anything else, his name is Davenport -

Most days, anyway

He cries, sometimes, over bowls of spicy soup and at cute dogs, when someone leaves a book half-open on the table - when he sees groups of people laughing, and when he's alone for a long time. He is rarely alone. The Madame Director finds him, every time. Brings him biscuits and jam, shares puzzles, gives him folders to file.

She tries to teach him new words from brightly coloured books, sometimes. Not often; Davenport hates to make her unhappy, and she looks very sad, whenever he fails. He hates failing - this he knows for certain. But regardless of what he does, the Director is sad a lot of the time. Busy, busy; but she goes very still, late at night, and writes lists in strange languages with shifting characters, and then burns them, with a look on her face like stone, like a closed fist. He sweeps the ashes, afterwards; there's nothing in them he can understand.

No one sees her in those hours. Only Davenport is there, with no one else around. Davenport does not count as company, really. Or at least the Madame Director trusts him enough to let him see her when it's very late and she is very tired, and there is too much work for a night's rest.

It's nice, being trusted. Davenport likes it, likes his little tasks, his schedule and his friends. He knows every corner of the Moon Base, except the ones he is not supposed to enter; he has a little map sewn into his coat pocket, for when he forgets he knows every corner of the Moon Base.

He loves slow music, and sea chowder, and to drink his tea (the Director makes it, sometimes; she knows just how he likes it) while standing behind the transparent windows and watch the planet down below, all green and blue and changeful, like a face with many moods.

He knows he likes these things.

It is only that, sometimes, Davenport is very full of a painful feeling, a feeling like being full of smoldering fire, a feeling like --

Anger has no face, no colour. Davenport does not know a lot of things; sometimes he grasps at the softened edges of his mind, looking for something sharp enough to cut himself with. Davenport is angry, sometimes, though he has no words for it. Sometimes, anger is the only real thing in Davenport's world, the first thing he ever knew.

And then he forgets about it.

There are few things Davenport knows. He can feel the shape of something very important, prodding at him, filling him up with a warm, unpleasant energy. It is there when he wakes, for a handful of moments - every day, in the dreaming place between wakefulness and sleep. Like a dream, it fades before he is done dressing for the day. He has no words for it. The truth is, most days Davenport only knows his name is Davenport, and the worst of it is Davenport forgets there might be anything missing.

#davenport #lucretia #taz #taz balance #fic #my fics #taz fics #taz balance fic

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thedramaticwriter1 · 2 months

Text

Stitch 'em up

(Dean x Reader)

Summary: An injured Dean comes back from a hunt.

Character count: 2.7k+

Warnings: Blood, a snarky, injured dean

A/N: Didn’t mean to take so long in between posts, sorry not sorry lol

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You sit on the dinning room chair with a cold beer sat in front of you, bouncing your leg up and down. Dean had called about an hour ago to tell you that his hunt was finished and he would be on his way home. The tone in his voice was tight and it had caused your stomach to sour.

“How bad was it?” You had asked over the phone the second he was done talking.

“Piece of pie, sweetheart. As usual” He replied and you heard him grunt in pain as he attempted to lower himself into the front seat of the Impala.

“Piece of pie my ass, Dean. I can basically hear how hurt you are over the phone” you replied, your grip on your phone tightening as irritation and worry coursed through you. He had told you to take a break on this hunt and relax at home, he could handle it himself. As usual, he was wrong.

“Hmm a piece of pie and your ass? Count me in” his voice dropping an octave at the suggestion, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

“Not now Winchester. Just get home so I can deal with you” and with that you hung up the phone.

Another hour you had been waiting for him since that phone call, beer untouched in front of you, starring at the bunker door waiting for him to stride on in. It felt like every minute dragged into a small eternity, each one lasting longer than the one before it. Ages passed by before you heard the rumble of the Impala’s engine and the opening and shutting of its door.

If you hadn’t known he was hurt before, you knew it now. It took him a solid 10 minutes to walk from the impala to the bunkers’ entrance, normally a journey that lasted a couple of seconds.

You watched as he slowly opened the door, hope in his features that maybe you had gone to bed already and he could get his ass chewed out tomorrow morning. Unfortunately for him, he’d get it right now.

His gaze searched the room until he spotted you sitting on the dinning room chair, his whole body slumping in defeat. Like a thief caught in the middle of the night. He wouldn’t even look you in the eye, knowing exactly what he would see.

Worry. Frustration. Fear. Anger. All of which had an equal grip on your mind at the moment.

“What happened?” You asked, not moving from your spot on the chair and not sugar coating this conversation.

The instant he heard your tone he knew he was in big trouble, and what does someone in trouble do? They butter up.

“Sweetheart, have I told you lately how beautiful I think you are?” He responded sweetly, attempting to bat his eye lashes at you while simultaneously trying to hide that he was holding one hand to his obviously injured left side.

“Dean…” you responded while slowly rising up from your chair. Your voice was low and lethal, knowing exactly what he was trying to do.

“Seriously, baby. You're the most beautiful woman on the planet..” he says as he smiles at you while attempting to straighten his hunched form. Still he’s trying to cover up his injuries, even though they are plain as day to you.

“Winchester…” you fling the name at him, half way to him. Already you can see red seeping around where his hand is pressed to his side. Your eyes go wide as you realize he’s still bleeding from an injury he received over two hours ago.

“Honestly Y/N, I’m the luckiest man al-“ is all he gets out as he attempts to take a step in the direction of the the hallway that leads to your shared bedroom in an attempt to escape your anger and doubles over as his legs give out from under him.

“Dean!” You yell as you rush towards him, close enough that you're able to catch him under his arms right before he hits the ground fully.

“Alive” he squeaks out pathetically while still trying to smile up at you. Knees on the ground and still trying to flirt his way his out of this.

Ridiculous. You bend down so you're able to reposition his arm to hang around your shoulders.

“Do you think you can walk towards the bathroom?” You question as you try to gauge how injured he really is.

“Let’s try the kitchen instead” he grunts out. This close to him, you’re able to see that he has no visible wounds on his face, but you wince when you notice his lips are a shade lighter than they normally are.

“Alright then, on the count of three. Ready? One, two, three…” you haul up as much of his weight as you can onto your own body and you both stand up straight. You stand there for a few seconds hoping he can get his bearings and won’t pass out on you. After you're confident he can make the small journey to the kitchen, you start walking. Slowly, step by step, you two head for the kitchen, you leading the way incase you need to catch him if his legs give out again.

“I’m guessing you're not gonna let this one slide, huh baby?” He says as you cross the threshold of the kitchen, almost to the table sitting in the middle of the room.

“Pfft, you’ll be luckily if I ever let you hunt again” you respond. Only half joking, but you’ll deal with that later. “I’m gonna sit you down on that chair okay?” You tell him as you near it.

“Sitting sounds good right now” he responds, wincing with each step you guys take. You finally reach the chair and you gently help him lower himself onto the seat. You move around slowly so that you're standing in front of him, still holding onto his shoulders to steady him. After some time, once you know he’s stable enough on his own, you turn towards the hallway and make a beeline to the bathroom in search of the first aid kit. It became a habit of yours to always have it stocked with the essentials, even going as far as having Sam create a fake hospital personnel ID for you so you could make your way into the local hospital and steal some of the supplies, knowing you’d use them eventually.

Rummaging though the cabinets, you finally locate the kit and rush back to the kitchen. Turning the corner, you see Dean resting his head on the table, his hand still holding pressure on whatever wound he has on his left side.

You reach him and grab his shoulder. “Dean, wake up” you say as you shake him awake, your worry only growing as he takes awhile to wake up. His eyes open slowly at your voice: “I'm not sleeping sweetheart. Just resting my eyes for a little”. You know that's bullshit. Who knows how much blood he’s lost at this point.

“I need to see the wound, Dean” you say sternly, not trying to give way to your concern, knowing there is a job to be done here.

“It’s fine baby, I just need a bandaid that’s all” he says as his eyes close again, not even having the energy to look at you while he talks.

“De, I swear to God, if you don’t show me right now, I’ll let you bleed out on this table” you say, having enough of this shit. You’re tired of him downplaying how serious this was, especially because he needed help.

“No, you wouldn’t” he says, knowing that there was no way in hell that you would let that happen, but still. You needed to get your point across. He finally opens his eyes to look at you and must see how worried you are, cause his lips turn down into a small, sad smile before attempting to remove his hand from his side.

“Let me” you grab the scissors from the first aid kit and make quick work of his shirt, cutting down the side near his injury.

“Hey, that was my favorite…” he responds but all protests die when he sees the face you give him. The shirt is the least of your concern.

Slowly and carefully, trying not to aggravate the wound any further, you peel his shirt off of him and throw it to the ground. You’re finally able to get a full view of it and you're unable to silence the gasp that manages to escape your lips.

From the bottom of his waist stretching across his ribs and ending right under his arm pit are five deep gashes, each one worse than the last. Staring at his mangled skin, one monster comes to mind that could inflict this kind of damage.

“Damn it Dean, you didn’t tell me it was a werewolf case you were on” you scold him as you assess the wounds. You grab the gauze and hydrogen peroxide from the first aid and you get ready to begin to clean the gashes.

“Yeah, well I didn’t want you to wo— Son of a bitch!” He yells as you move the gauze you're holding to the first wound, attempting to scrub the dirty and dried blood off.

“Don’t move or it’s going to hurt even worse” you tell him and you try and hold him still enough with your other hand so you can keep working. Eventually you’ve managed to clean out the first gash and it’s already begun to leak out fresh blood from the irritation from the gauze. You know you need to work quickly, not knowing how much blood he’s already lost on the drive here.

One down. Four to go.

“You try not moving while someone burns your skin off” he retorts, complaining about the hydrogen peroxide your applying, trying your best to avoid infection. You don’t even want to begin to think of how dirty a werewolves claws are.

“It doesn’t even burn you big baby” you say as he flinches at you when you begin to clean the second cut.

“I’m not a big baby” he pouts, closing his eyes, trying to concentrate on anything but what your hands are doing.

“Just save your strength and hush up” you tell him, knowing he needs to save all the energy he has left and not waste it on bantering with you. You continue working, washing the dirt and debris out of the second gash.

Two down. Three to go.

That becomes your mantra as your mind thinks of nothing else but cleaning these wounds.

Three down. Two to go.

You work in silence and Dean doesn’t try to talk again, the pain being too much for him right now. You also don’t attempt a conversation with him right now, knowing that the only words that would come out right now would be filled with anger and fear, and you don’t think you have the stomach for that right now.

Four down. One to go.

After an eternity, you are finally able to clean the last gash, now taking a look at the true wounds in their bloody glory. “You’ll definitely need stitches for these, De. They're too deep” you surmise. All he does is nod his head and you know that the pain is getting to him. “You want something for the pain?” You question, and move to the first aid kit when he nods his head. You pull out the painkillers and grab the bottle of whiskey that was resting on the table. “Both will help, trust me” you say and you hand him the pills and open the whiskey bottle for him.

He’s slow to move, not wanting to injure himself further. He gradually brings the pills to his lips, then the bottle, taking a few good gulps before handing it back to you.

“Do you want to wait till they kick in before I start stitching you up?” You ask him. He shakes his head slowly.

“Just get it over with” he responds, carefully laying his head back on the table.

And that’s what you do for the next hour. Stitch by stitch, you close the wounds that are scattered across his skin. He’s definitely going to have a few scars, but there’s nothing you can do about that now, and it’s not like scars have ever bothered him before. He even revels in them a little, physical proof of what he’s overcome. Half way through you can tell he’s still in pain, but you notice his breathing has gotten more even, his shoulders more relaxed, and you know the pain killers have started to kick in. You breathe a sigh of relief and keep working. Your mind goes blank as you focus solely on what’s in front of you.

Stitch, blood, stitch, some more blood, stitch, blood.

104 stitches and an empty whiskey bottle later, you finally finish. When he feels your hands lift from him, he stirs a little.

“You done?” He questions you. He slightly slurs his words as his eyes look up at you with his head still resting on the table, waiting for your response.

“Yeah I’m done” you respond as you finish dressing the wound. You finally stand up and look down at him. You're still upset at him for downplaying how injured he was, but seeing him now, some what whole and alive, you can’t help the knee wobbling relief that washes over you.

You reach your hand out and rub it through his hair, savoring the way it feels in your fingers. “I am so incredibly pissed off at you right now” you say weakly, but even as the words leave your lips, your eyes begin to water.

“I know. I’m sorry sweetheart” he responds, dragging his hand up to rest on your hip. “You can yell at me tomorrow, I promise” he says, squeezing lightly.

Your heart clenches at the gesture, and you smile through your tears. “Alright”, you respond as you wipe at your eyes. “Let’s get you to bed” you say as you move closer to him to help him stand up. You’re careful not to rub against his dressed wounds and grunt a little as you stand up with his arm wrapped around your shoulders. With small, slow steps both of you make it to your shared bedroom. You swing the door open with your foot and he turns on the light with his free hand. You make your way to the bed and gently lower him down.

“I’m gonna get you out of these” you tell him, nudging at his jeans, eyeing the blood and grime scattered on them, knowing he’ll be more comfortable if he changes.

“If you wanted me naked sweetheart, you could have just asked” he responds, looking up at you while attempting to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ha-ha, very funny. I’d like to see you try any kind of move right now” you say, turning and walking towards his dresser, searching for a clean pair of shorts to change him in to. While digging through his drawers he responds: “Oh I have plenty of moves”. You look over and chuckle at him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to move off the bed, let alone do anything else. You walk back to him and begin taking his jeans off. Slowly dragging them down his legs, you search for any other wounds, glad to not find any. Once he’s changed, you help him lay under the covers and get comfortable. He’s already asleep by the time you move to the adjacent bathroom to change yourself. Once finished, you lay down with him.

You can’t stop yourself from staring at him, memorizing the already known freckles on his face. You reach to stroke the stubble he’s neglected to shave on the hunt, the movement causing him to stir.

“You know I love you, right?” He mumbles, not completely awake.

“I know. I love you too” you respond, moving to kiss his cheek. “You’re definitely gonna hear about this in the morning” you add, knowing that an argument tonight wouldn’t benefit anyone. You also were too grateful he was still in one piece to be fully upset with him right now.

“That’s alright baby. Yell at me all you want. The sex after our arguments is always the best” he says, grinning with his eyes still closed.

You scoff. “You’re horrible” you say, smiling back at him, knowing he’s exactly right.

#supernatural edit #supernatural x reader #supernatural prompts #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester #spn #dean x you #supernatural dean #angst #fluff #dean winchester x reader

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idesofrevolution · 4 months

Text

Father

Dad had been acting strange for quite some time. Honestly, it wasn't that noticeable in the beginning, which I suppose made it difficult to pinpoint when things started to change. I only started to notice maybe seven months or so ago after he turned down the daily Budweiser. Patrick O'Shaughnessy turning down his biggest vice? I knew something was off right then and there as he sat there, smiling at me from his armchair with the game on in the background: red flag number two, my stepfather had NEVER been a sports guy. Binging Fox News while fingering pudding cups, sure; but actually knowing what was happening in a football game?

I'd originally thought he'd perhaps found a side girl to cheat on my mom with. It was far from outside of his character to do something like that, if he'd ever be able to get his nasty ass out of the recliner for ten fucking minutes... He'd gotten too comfortable in his laziness. When my mom married him a year ago, he was already a piece of shit lardass who refused to do a single thing around the house, refused to work a normal job (he was waiting for a management position apparently), and above all refused to acknowledge me whatsoever. He was rude, crass, could never even so much as break a smile at me. And there, in that moment as his eyes made contact with mine and his lips curled into a smile, I knew something was wrong.

"What, no beer burps for me today?" I scowled at him, raising my eyebrow in a malicious curiosity.

"Nahh little man, I'm trying to cut down." Little man? He'd never gotten my name right let alone given me a nickname... We did not have that kind of relationship, at least one that would have an affectionate nickname for one another. "Say, I'm hittin' the gym in a couple minutes. Whaddya say you come along?"

"You're... you're going to the gym? Really?" I sat there slackjawed. Something was indeed off. What it was, I couldn't exactly tell. Nothing outside of his UberEats order would ever get Patrick out of the chair. He laughed at me, gripping his sizeable paunch beneath his stained tee shirt.

"You bet, bud. High time I set an example for my boy. How's he gonna respect a couch potato loser? You should come along. Nothin' like a father and son spending time together, especially in the gym. Get the boys lookin', right?" He stood up from his chair, grabbing his keys off the kitchen countertop as he headed toward his car. I, on the other hand, stood there with tunnel vision. Patrick was not the most supportive parent when it came to... well, anything. But the biggest bone of contention was me coming out to them last year. It was the biggest hullabaloo, Oscar worthy. Thrown glasses, flipped chairs, disownment, threats of eviction... the only thing that kept me in the house was my mother putting her foot down. It wasn't a big deal for her, but for him... I was the biggest embarrassment on the planet. What would Tucker Carlson think?

Yet as I stood there, staring at the cigarette-stained wall, my brain couldn't process what I'd just heard. 'Get the boys lookin' he said... As if he were trying to play wing man for me... What the fuck was happening? My heart fluttered the moment his words sank in, that was pride. It was something neither my father nor my stepdad ever had the courtesy of giving me. My walls were up, and I was beyond skeptical, so for my own peace of mind I had decided then and there to investigate.

From that day on, the moment I came home from school, I was spying. While most of my friends were trying to enjoy their senior year, going to parties or getting ready for college, I was at home peering behind corners at my stepfather. Over the first few months I watched with complete disbelief at the changes. Every single day, I'd come home, and he'd be on his way out to the gym. The normal scowl he'd gift me upon my entry was replaced with jovial smiles and hair ruffling as he schlepped his gym bag over his shoulder out the door. He'd be gone for two or three hours at least, and come home just before dinner dripping in buckets of sweat. I'd begun to avoid driving his car, as the stink of his sweat had completely inundated the fabric of the seats. He'd toss his bag on the floor by my book bag (gross), and plop down at the dinner table where he would ask genuinely about my day or sweetly flirt with my mom while winking at me. I still wasn't convinced. He kept asking me nearly every day if I'd come to the gym with him, if we could go shoot hoops at the park across the street, or if I'd play FIFA with him. Each time I'd shoot him down, he'd have a momentary break in that happy facade of his, as if it were hurting him I wasn't spending time with him.

Within five months or so, he was nearly unrecognizable. I guess protein shakes & a low carb diet really works on a guy: he'd lost nearly 70 pounds and gained about 20 in muscle alone. He'd struck up friendships with my school's wrestling coach and a couple of the neighbors, and we were finding ourselves invited to barbecues and block parties for the first time. I had to endure little hallway chats with Coach Weston about joining the wrestling team, as he was in talks with the school district about bringing my stepdad on as assistant coach. It was bizarre to me for many reasons, but one stood out above all: Patrick was never a wrestler. Not in college, not in high school, my mom even confirmed it one night at dinner. He'd brush it off as if it were something fun he were doing with 'Dane', which in and of itself was weird to hear the coach's first name used at all at home.

Sleep was getting difficult. My mind ran at a thousand miles an hour, but now he and mom had begun to fuck like rabbits. Loud, hard sex almost every other night with their bed slamming against my bedroom wall for hours. Mom of course was radiant at that point. The years of one piece of shit husband being a complete and total asshole, replaced by another piece of shit husband treating her like garbage melted away in the course of a couple of months of Patrick being a strangely brilliant partner. He'd started to cook us meals, he'd started to do the yardwork, he'd even fixed things around the house that had been broken for years. Sure, the sex seemed to help, but as she would say: "He's lessened my load so much, Jonas. I wish you'd give him a chance."

Sure, he was treating my mom well and that was a good enough reason for me to like him. Was it enough to trust him? No. I'd still turn down every single request to spend time alone with him. No gym. No basketball court. No gaming. Though, in one single concession for my mom's sake, I begrudgingly agreed to let him drive me to school in the morning. That one decision is what truly changed my life forever. I went to bed that night, putting on my earbuds to drown out their disgusting sex in the next room, less than eager for the fifteen minute drive the next day.

Thus, on that warm April day, my morning began as normal. Shower, dress, drink my morning smoothie, grab my bag, and walk out the door. It wasn't long before I was greeted by his chipper, dim witted voice shattering my peaceful morning.

"Ayy little man!" I sighed, turning toward the garage, where there he stood: shirtless and dripping sweat from his chiseled body. As a gay guy, I have to admit, it was hard not to stare. He had become quite a sight to behold. The other moms in the neighborhood certainly would sit and stare at him on his morning runs, even a couple of the dads as well, and now I sat there oogling the ripped, gleaming body he'd built.

"Hey, Patrick. Do you need to shower? I have to get going, but I can catch the bus if there's not enough time?" In my head, I was praying to God that he'd just hop in the shower he never seemed to take and I could go on my merry way. Though, no such luck.

"Nah, man! It's all good. I promised you I'd take you to school, so hop in the car!" I sighed, turning to his 1998 Mustang with a shiver cascading down my spine.

"Sure, Patrick." I dragged my feet headed toward his car. Opening the door, the humid, musky air within poured out of the car, punching me in the face with his scent. Imagine a noxious waft of butter, blue cheese, saltwater, and feet just drowning you. That was the stink that swamped his car, and him for that matter. I took one final breath of fresh air before I sat in the car and closed the door. He wasn't far behind, not even bothering to put a shirt on as he hopped in beside me.

"Alright! Let's get goin' bud!" He turned the key and the car roared to life. I sighed, thankful it was only fifteen minutes. As we pulled out of the driveway and onto the street, I turned on the radio, hoping to dissuade him from making some puerile small talk. We sat there in silence for a moment, before hitting the main road. "You know what, bud?" He turned to me, looking me up and down before rolling up the windows and turning off the radio. "Ahhh fuck it. We're playing hooky today."

"Wait, what?" I had no time to protest, before he turned onto the main road, but in the opposite direction from the school. "Patrick, I'm not playing hooky. I have to go to school." He laughed, ruffling my hair yet again.

"You gotta stop callin' me Patrick, Jonas. I don't have to be dad if you don't want, but Patrick is so... not me. Just call me Pat."

"Okay, PAT. I'm going to school." He turned to me, and his smile faded, letting out a solid sigh that would put mine to shame. He pulled over onto the shoulder, and put the car in park.

"Listen. I know you don't like me. I know you don't trust me, and I get it. I made a lot of changes to him very quickly, and it's hard to keep up." Him? Why did he say it like that? "I'd been watching you just suffer endlessly for years, man. All the time. I just wanted you to have a good role model for once. A man you could lean on, and not some shitty lard who talks bad to ya."

"What the fuck are you on about?" My patience had worn too thin for my calm veneer to bear. He turned the key, and the engine quickly died.

"C'mon bro. You know something's different about him, right? I know you've been watchin' me like a hawk. Think I haven't noticed you watchin' me from around the hall corner? You think I don't know you're creepin' while I beat one out huffin' my strap? I know, dude. I've always known. C'mon, man." Pat threw his hands in the air in frustration, the first time since his attitude adjustment that I'd seen anything like it. But, this was different. It wasn't rage, it was exasperation.

"Okay, Pat. So you saw me watching you. Can you please tell me what the fuck is going on now?" He slowly rested his sweaty head against the headrest, and sighed. Then, a chuckle. Then another, until he was full on laughing. "What!?"

"Ahhh, man. I never thought I'd see the day you'd man up and come to. Yeah, Jonas. I can tell you what the fuck is going on." I sat back, confounded- even more so than before. "My name was Matt Wilde. Way back in the day, I used to wrestle for Palm Heights High. Was pretty damn good at it too, but one day I got pinned just a little too hard and poof."

"Matt Laurent? What the fuck are you talking about, Pat? Are you high?" His dumb laugh threw him back in the seat.

"Nah, I finished that joint earlier, man. Stone sober now. But, safe to say for the past 50 years I've been just hoppin' body to body. Started with a couple of my teammates just so I could finish out the years, wrestle a bit more. Got bored, hung around the gym, in and out of some lug heads. Did a stint in some Libertines, that was fun as fuck. But man, I saw you sulkin' around the school for the past three years and thought, damn that kid looks sad. So, I may have eavesdropped a bit, maybe caught a bit about your dead beat, piece of shit dad; then right after he ditches, Mom lands this fuckin' winner." He slapped his chest, little droplets of his sweat landing on my bewildered face. "Oh shit, my bad." I sat there, slackjawed, completely disoriented as he dumbly wiped his sweat off my nose and cheek.

"You... you're dead?" He snapped his fingers, winking and smirking at me.

"Bingo, bud. Right on the money. I was like, I'm in a very unique situation here to fuckin' do something this. So, I slipped into this dumbass and just stuck around. Did the work. Tried, emphasis on TRIED, to be like the Dad I had and that you deserve, ya know? Haven't made it fuckin' easy, but... ahhh. That's parenthood, am I right?" I scoffed, he must have taken some damn good drugs. I was convinced. There was no way!

"Okay, then. MATT. So, if you're some dead jock bro possessing Pat, where the fuck is he?" He pondered for a moment in silence, shrugging his shoulders.

"I think he's gone, bro. I haven't stayed in a dude this long, I used to hear him bitchin' and moanin' all the time, but he went silent a couple of weeks ago." Fuck, I wish that were true. I had to admit, even if only in my mind, this Matt-Patrick was lightyears better than Patrick Patrick. Sure, he was dumb, he was every stereotype dudebro in the book, he smelled like he bathed in sweat baths... But, for the first time in my life, he wanted to be around me. He wanted to spend time with me. He made an effort. He... liked me. The mental gymnastics needed to make sense of the situation was growing too monumental to comprehend, but in that moment as he sat there with his dumb fucking grin on his face as if I was going to just completely buy it, I started to hope it was true.

"So, what now, Matt? Are you just gonna keep fucking my mom and prentending to be my Dad for the rest of your life? Or are you gonna hop out and ditch us?" He raised his eyebrow in genuine confusion.

"I mean, yeah that was the plan. One, your mom is fuckin' hot and she's better than any girl I've ever been with. Two, I kinda like our little family. Three, I ain't ditchin' ya, bro. You had enough of that shit for one lifetime. Besides, I gotta get you to chill the fuck out one way or another, so I was hoping we could give it a shot. Like I've been beggin' man." 'Matt' put his hands together as if praying, pleading to me. I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing. It's better than coming home every day to spy on him, and it's way better than being the sad wallflower all the fucking time. Besides, those dumb fucking puppy dog eyes...

"You know what? Sure, Matt. What did you have in mind?" I could barely finish my sentence before he'd twisted the key and slammed on the gas. The man drove like a bat out of hell through town, hooting and hollering in victory as if he'd won a match.

"Hell fuckin' yeah, man! Dude we're gonna be so tight, it's gonna be awesome. You're gonna be so fuckin' sexy, the dudes are gonna be on their knees by the time we're done! Slobberin' on that dick like SLURPEDY SLURP! WOO!" So fuckin' dumb. Dumb as a box of rocks. But I couldn't help but crack a smile as he swerved left and right, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Let's get you sweatin' man. We can get you pumpin' iron, playin' ball... I'm burning everything you got in your closet, bro. Nobody wants polos and button ups, man. Gettin' you some J's, some good jocks. Oh, how do you feel about chains?"

"Matt, dude. I'm not like you. That's all well and good for you, but I can't pull that shit off..." He slammed on the brakes and a cavalcade of horns from behind us rang out like a brass band. Matt whipped his gaze to me in shock.

"Don't say that, bro! You could be a bona fide stud! Look at you, man!" A couple of hard slaps against my bony chest and a harsh wheeze later, perhaps it sank in a bit. "Aight, well we have some work to do. I mean, if you're up for it." He smirked at me, lifting up those massive arms and flexing. His veins bulged from his massive bicep, the wet hairs in his ripe pits wafted that pungent scent I'd regrettably started to secretly love... Yeah, maybe I did want it.

"I don't know how, man. If I were like you, I bet I could." As if a cartoon lightbulb flickered to life above his head, I saw the spark of inspiration hit him like a sack of bricks. That stupid smirk grew into a wide, toothy grin.

"Aight, bro. Haven't tried this before, but I'll give it a go." He clapped his hands together, rubbing them gently. "I saw Jimmy Morales do this once when he needed a spotter. Gotta ask, though. You trust me, right?" I sat there and wondered if I did. I'd pretended up until this point that I believed every word that had come out of his mouth. This insane, psychotic story. It was nuts. It was crazy. But that little voice in the back of my head, deep down in the dark recesses of my brain decided to finally speak up.

"Yeah, Matt. I trust you."

"ALRIGHT! Fuck yeah, man. Oh shit, this is gonna be great! Okay, so don't freak out, just trust me and let it happen, okay? It doesn't hurt, the dudes usually bust a nut after it's all over." I heard a squelching rumble from in his stomach: wet, guttural, as if he were getting ready to vomit. Which became more and more likely as I saw a lump start to make it's way up his throat.

"Matt..." His body began to shudder and quake, his veins bulging and head thrashing from side to side. Then, from between his lips, a glowing blue vapor began to slip out. It was tiny at first, a little tail whipping about, before more and more of it started to bellow out of his mouth. Slick, bulbous, translucent. I had mere seconds of watching it slither out before it darted right into my own slack jaw. It squirmed as it wriggled from his body into mine, slurping deep into my bulging stomach. The feeling of fullness overtook me, watching more and more of the rubbery thing enter me, squeezing into every available inch within me, and he was right: it felt good. It felt like an eternity, but in reality it was just moments. The last of suctioned into me, and the world went black.

---

I woke the next morning in my bed. Shooting straight upright in a puddle of sweat. I rubbed my hands on my face, running my fingers through my drenched hair. What a fuckin' dream. I groaned as doubled over in pain. I felt like I was hit by a train. Everything hurt, a soreness unlike anything I'd ever experienced before radiated from every fiber of my being. Then, a soft caress of the nostril. Salty, buttery, funky... I raised my arm, finding the culprit immediately.

"Fuck!" I spat out, before taking a deep breath, another hit. "Fuuuuck..." Another inhale, a familiar stink, a comforting stink. What started as gentle whiffs quickly turned into full on huffing. I buried my nose in my pit, letting the wet jungle lather my face in my own sweat.

"Morning, bro. Good shit, ain't it?" The words echoed in my head, a soft, rippling little voice from within my brain. I should have been alarmed, terrified, even. But no, the words felt like gospel to me. "We really went to town yesterday, man. I had you liftin' like an Olympian. Take it easy. Here, I'll be right there, I got just the thing for it!" My hands started to drift southward, beneath the waistband of the teal sweats I didn't own... Were they... Pats? The door to my room burst open mid-huff, and in walked the hulking tower himself with a tray in hand.

"Goooood Morning, Kiddo! I made ya a protein shake, good recovery breakfast after a workout sesh like we had! Oh, your Mom made eggs!" He walked over to the side of my bed, kicking the Jordans I'd borrowed from him to the side. Wait, when did I do that? "Eat up, champ. Those 'ceps aren't gonna feed themselves!" Slamming the tray down onto my thighs, I let out a groan of pain.

"Pat? Dude, I had the weirdest dream." Dude? I never say dude. I cupped my hand, slick with sweat and pre over my mouth, aghast at the words coming out of my mouth. Pat smiled, grabbing the shake and handing it to me. "Drink up, my dude. For real, you're gonna be in a world of hurt otherwise." The voice boomed in my head, HIS voice. But his lips hadn't moved an inch. "Pat..." I ripped the sheets off of me, sure enough, I was sporting his nasty sweatpants & drenched socks. Cupping my manhood was most definitely his grimy jockstrap. "Hey, if we were gonna have the best workout, I had to be comfortable, bro! I knew you'd get it, though." I looked at him, a tight lipped smile, as if he were proving to me he weren't talking to me. "Feels good, right! I told ya! Just think, bro. With a half of me in there, you're gonna be unstoppable." I smiled. A genuine fuckin' smile, for the first time in as long as I could remember. I watched as my hand gripped the shake, bringing it to my lips of it's own accord. Downing the vanilla shake, our eyes met, and I understood completely. Matt winked at me, ruffling my hair, and sauntered back out of the door.

I leaned back in my bed, throwing my arm behind my head. The musk drifting from my pits and feet, identical to my dad's. Smirking, I let my fingers drift down to my growing meat in its slimy pouch, knowing fully well that I was in damn fine hands.

---

So that brings us to today, I guess! One year to the day. One full year since I finally let Dad in. 'Pat' sure did join the wrestling team as assistant coach, bringing his son in tow, eager to finish my senior year with at least a title. Thanks to him, I made varsity after the first fuckin' tryout. Can't say it was all me, all the time, but after a while it was. Honestly, it all started to blend together. Me at the wheel, him at the wheel, soon it sort of blurred and it was just me. That last semester was the best of my whole fucking life. Parties, bodybuilding, skating with the boys, fuckin' the boys... Shit, it was the time of my fuckin' life.

And after every day at school, or at least after every post-practice locker room blow job, I couldn't wait to get home and smash some Call of Duty with the old man. Mom would always come in, making comments on how we seemed as if I'd become a mini-Pat. Finishing eachother's sentences, drinking the same beer, wearing the same kind of clothes... she'd always put our sneaks outside the garage door, "they even stank the same." Little did she know just how much of the same person we really were.

I've decided to stick around the house for a year or so before maybe headed to college. I don't know, family is here, friends are here, Coach Weston should be retiring in a year or two... so there should be an opening for a new assistant coach on the wrestling team. Besides, I may have landed quite the catch in the boyfriend department, and I really want him to meet my dad, I have a feeling they'll get along just fine.

#male transformation #body transformation #male possession #original #transformation #jockification #musk #body possession #musky #gay transformation #wrestler #ghost possession #familial transformation #father to son #himboization #himbofication #partial possession

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