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kasagia · 18 days

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Right hand II

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: After you miraculously escaped from his arms the other night, you tried to stay away from him as best as you could. You have to put a lot of effort into escaping from the na-baron, who is tirelessly and constantly chasing you, or into avoiding another invitation to his chambers late at night. However, on Arrakis, the situation between you changes drastically... And you're losing control over your life, and it's not because of Feyd. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

You are standing in front of the window of the ship that is taking you to Arrakis. You nervously play with the edge of the shawl that covers your head. You don't have good memories of that planet. Before you escaped with Feyd, the Bene Gesserit sent several of their young apprentices to… train in the sands of Dune. Including you.

You still remember the screams of some of your companions who went crazy from a lack of water and decided to end their lives. And sometimes at night you dream that the sandworm swallows half of your group, leaving you practically on your own.

Arrakis didn't just kill your friends. It killed any belief in the Bene Gesserit in you, only confirming that you would rather die than be completely subject to them.

And now you're going back there with someone who had full control over your life again. It's funny how history likes to come full circle. And how, despite their repetition, people still fall for tricks and fall into fate's traps, acting in exactly the same way.

A cold hand on your bare shoulder snaps you out of your stupor. You act fully automatically,drawing the dagger attached to your belt and twisting the attacker's arm. You pin him to the wall, placing the blade against his pale neck. You freeze as your eyes meet Feyd's icy blue gaze.

"Good reflex. If you were anyone else, I'd kill you for this, but I'm in a particularly good mood today, so I won't punish you as I would like. What were you thinking about, my little witch, that you didn't hear me sneaking up on you? Or maybe I have finally surpassed the master?" He asks with a mocking smirk, showing off his black teeth. You snort, shaking your head at him.

"Keep dreaming." You say, taking advantage of his amusement. This time, you are not keeping your mouth shut for fear that he will deprive you of your tongue for your boldness towards him. You move away from him, which he takes with clear displeasure, and return to your place by the window.

"If I dream about you, I prefer to dream about something much more pleasant." He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. He slides your shawl off your head with his teeth and nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent.

You feel him sigh deeply, leaning against you a little as he relaxes into your scent and closeness. You frown, but let him hold you because you feel calmer having him close to you. Despite everything that had happened in the past two weeks, you still found his presence reassuring. It didn't make any sense to you, but apparently, over the years, you had begun to involuntarily associate him with something akin to a safe shelter. Herkonnen. A psychopathic, bloodthirsty future baron. How ironic…

However, being in his arms helped you come to the conclusion that the demons of the past should remain in the past. And you should focus on the newest one that is now wrapped around you.

You stare at your reflection in the glass, shuddering as his scent surrounds you, mixed with the blood that stains his uniform. You wonder which soldier you will have to find a replacement for this time.

"What were you thinking about?" He whispers that he doesn't loosen his grip on you even for a moment, knowing full well that the moment he does, you'll wriggle out of his arms and find another excuse to leave him.

You checked the condition of engines and fuel 8 times. He started counting after the ship's captain complained to him about your constant presence. He beheaded him without giving him the opportunity to complete his complaint against you. Feyd smiles, remembering the irritated frown on your forehead when you had to clean up his mess. Of course he followed you then. Of course, 'just to make sure that the next captain you appoint will be more competent'.

"It doesn't matter." You sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. He would enjoy your submission and willing closeness if he didn't see that, by doing so, you only wanted to distract him from the main topic. Clever little witch you were…

"It must be important if you stopped paying attention to your surroundings. You are always alert and aware of the things that happen around you. No matter what. I remember how, during one of our escapades, you were the only one who didn't fall into the trap."

"Well, that one was actually obvious." You say it with a mocking smile, remembering how you had to save him and his soldiers.

For the rest of your life, you will never forget how you had to dig Baron Feyd-Rauth Harkonnen out of the mud and save his ass from the Assassins who planned his execution. Of course, he killed any witnesses, leaving only you and him alive. After all, his uncle and brother couldn't find out about it.

He growls in your ear, tightening his grip on you as a warning, when you make him replay that day in his head.

"Don't brag now. I was… busy observing something much more interesting than muddy swamps." He grumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck. The warm air he exhales makes you shiver.

"Which was?" You ask shakily, placing your hands over his to stop him from roaming them over your body.

"You." His answer is short and simple, as if it were the most obvious thing you should know. He doesn't hide it anymore; he doesn't keep his desire to himself. He wants you. He craves you. He shows it to you so clearly and thoroughly that you laugh at how naive you were to believe that you had only a friendly, platonic relationship. But how could you not believe that he only saw you as a means to an end when he treated everyone else around him like that? Since he treats people like things to play with and break whenever he wants? How could you have predicted that you would become his obsession, a precious jewel in his collection that he would want to protect and have just for himself? "I'm asking for the last time. What were you thinking about, little witch?" He asks, wrapping his hand around your neck and forcing you to look into his eyes.

You have no escape from him now. And you certainly won't tell him that lately you've been thinking more and more often about how to run away from him, or what would happen if you stayed with the Bene Gesserit, or how your life would have looked if you escaped from them on your own. You wonder if it wouldn't have been better to bury yourself in the sands of Arrakis all those years ago with your friends and die there. You are sure that it would be a much more dignified death.

"I... I thought about Arrakis." You decide to respond safely and carefully, so as not to reveal too much to him. You didn't want him to become suspicious of you. Not when you had to handle him carefully, lest you fulfil any of the Bene Gesserit's sick plans and visions.

"So what about this? Are you scared?"

"No. I am not. I'm never afraid. Fear is the mindkiller. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration." You repeat the mantra automatically without thinking much about it.

You flinch as you realise that you are answering quickly with the Bene Gesserit litany of fear, which they've made you learn by heart. A great deal of anger grows within you as you realise how much they have influenced your life, even so many years after you ran away from them.

"You're quite tense. More than when I usually hold you." He points this out, starting to gently stroke your back in an attempt to relax you. You give him an angry look instead, suddenly understanding why he was irritated with you for reading him and his emotions perfectly when he was the one who was flustered and furious.

It was always easier for you than for him to hit sensitive places or to read the other one like an open book. Apparently, you're not the only one who's learned this over the years. He knew you as well as the back of his hand. He just never showed any trace of concern for your well-being.

You had your… tender moments when you allowed yourselves to be vulnerable with each other once or twice, but you both treated them more as minor lapses in maintaining your impenetrable façade of indifference and neutrality. In the end, everyone is on their own. And looking for a friend in him was a completely stupid thing—an act of true naivety and a sign of self-destruction, maybe even masochism.

"Maybe you shouldn't hold me at all, then?" You growl at him furiously, unable to control yourself. He just frowns, more surprised by your behaviour than offended by this blatant act of disrespect. He had rarely seen you so nervous or furious.

Of the two of you, you were the one who was the most calm and composed. You were always able to hide all your emotions behind a mask of indifference. He's fascinated by how you really behave when you don't have a filter on. He often throws you off your balance only to see your cheeks flush with anger; you take out your anger in a fight (just like him); or you bite your lip to avoid saying something back to his taunts.

"Or maybe you should drop your attitude and just let me do it?" He asks, his lips brushing against your earlobe. He doesn't wait for your response; he simply catches the tip of your ear between his teeth. He bites in gently, sucking and caressing your skin with his lips, as if your ear's superior helix were the sweetest delicacy he could enjoy.

"I'm not fighting or trying to escape, am I?" You respond, enduring his treatment with dignity. At the ship's window, you can see a small smile appear on his lips at your words.

He decides to pull away from you, but he is not giving you even the smallest chance to run away from him. He presses you against the cold glass, entering your personal space even more than when he had you close against his chest. You lift your chin, looking at him defiantly as he puts his hands on your hips.

"You are not. But you also don't want to be here in my arms." He replies, cupping your chin with two fingers. He leans closer, making you feel the metallic scent of blood that still lingers on him, probably from his fight with some prisoners on the ship. "And I don't like it at all." He whispers hoarsely into your ear.

"Since when do you care what others want? I don't remember you spoiling your concubines like that." You snap, causing him to laugh mockingly and shaking his head in amusement.

He leans in, making you tense up slightly. You think he's doing it to kiss you, but instead of feeling his lips on yours, you feel his cheek brush against yours, and his lips blow hot air into your ear again as he whispers softly:

"Because they weren't you, Y/N." You shiver at the sound of his dark, hoarse whisper in your ear. You can't say you don't feel the effects of his... seduction. But you promised yourself long ago that you wouldn't be any man's whore, concubine, plaything, or broodmare. And certainly not HIS. No matter how... tempting he could be.

"And what is so special about me? Hm? My body? My appearance? That I can fight well? You would get bored of me. Like you did with all your concubines."

"Did they understand me like you do? Have you ever seen them look at me as anything other than a wild, bloodless beast in the heat?" He answers your angry questions with his, dismissing your attempt to start a verbal fight with him.

His thumb traces the line of your jaw, examining you closely. Looking into his light blue eyes makes you feel uncomfortable. He shouldn't have reacted to you like that. You weren't used to anything he had been doing these past few weeks. You preferred to fight him than... when he showed you so much tenderness, appreciation, and affection.

"Have I ever looked at you differently?" You ask defiantly. He smiles, licking his plump lips. You give in to this provocation, and, without controlling it at all, you move your gaze to his lips. His dark chuckle makes you look back into his eyes.

"Yes. Yes, you did that... you don't even know how often." He hums, his fingertips moving towards your mouth. He caresses your lips with incredible tenderness and delicacy. He presses on them gently, but you squeeze them as tight as you can, preventing him from doing anything he planned.

You react faster than him. You bite his wandering fingers, take advantage of the fact that he is still trying to process what has just happened, and quickly pull away from him. He laughs, shaking his head, looking at you intently as he deliberately crosses the distance between you two. He doesn't have to say anything for you to see how clearly he's mocking you and daring you to continue to defy him.

"We're not even on Arrakis yet, and you're already delusional, my na-Baron? Or maybe the black sun of Giedi Prime made you start seeing a mirage?"

"If you are a mirage or an illusion, then I never want to be sane again, my little witch." You gasp, as he wraps his arms around you tightly, clinging to you completely. He leans in, his nose tracing a line along your temple, inhaling your scent before burying his face in your hair.

He keeps a firm grip on your shoulders. You place your hands on his, trying to loosen his tight grasp somehow, but it only makes him hold you tighter. He tilts his head slightly and brushes his nose against yours.

You shiver, feeling how close he is and how his musky smell, mixed with a hint of metallic blood, surrounds you. He presses himself against you so tightly that there's practically no space left between your bodies. You close your eyes, letting out a small, shaky breath. And just as he's about to press his lips against yours, the metal door to the room slides open with a loud bang.

You jump away from him, grunting as a young recruit enters your field of vision.

“My lord na-Baron. Lady Y/N. We will land in fifteen minutes."

"We would rather notice it ourselves." Feyd growls at him. You see him reach for the hidden dagger. You walk over to him, resting your chest against his back, and grab his hand before he places it on his dagger and throws it at the poor man.

"Thank you, Oliver." You say with a smile. The man swallows in fear at Feyd's furious glare. He bows and leaves the two of you alone.

You step away from Feyd, letting go of his hand. You frown, seeing that he's even more furious than when one of the soldiers entered. You raise your eyebrow questioningly, not understanding why he's practically huffing in anger now.

"What?" You finally ask him, not understanding the reason behind his behaviour.

"Oliver... do you call all of them by their names?" He asks, spitting out the soldier's name in disgust. You sigh, rolling your eyes as you reach for the shawl he had thrown off you and put it back on your head.

"If I know them, then yes, why?"

"You've never called me anything other than my lord and na-baron." He speaks in an almost accusatory tone. It takes a lot of strength in you not to burst out laughing when you realize he's completely serious and not joking right now. You try to come up with some excuse, wondering how to safely answer his question.

"And you always call me your little witch." You answer. Using his name somehow never felt right to you. At first, out of respect for him, maybe even fear. After all, he saved you from the clutches of the Bene Gesserit. Calling him by his name was out of the question. With time, you did it out of habit. And now… now you didn't want to call him by anything else because you knew that it would be a small step on his way to make you his.

"So this is supposed to be our thing?" He asks with a challenging, teasing smile.

"We don't have a thing." You huff, walking towards the exit. He, of course, follows you faithfully. You can feel the excitement radiating from him. He was definitely planning something big to do on Arrakis. Something he didn't tell you. You just hoped that he would be too busy with his brother and securing the spice mine to take care of you at the same time.

"Don't we?"

"You should focus on what you tell your brother. You're finally taking the reins. Rabban won't give them to you that easily. And we need to establish a final plan of action on Arrakis." You say, returning to your matter-of-fact, cool tone. He smiles, nodding.

"Don't worry about that… I'll make him kiss our shoes." You snort, shaking your head in amusement at his words. It might be true, but it's still hard for you to imagine him actually putting this plan into action. As you'll see in a few minutes, he actually intended to do that. "And the plan was decided a long time ago. I told you I wouldn't let us split up. And not because I question your leadership skills or loyalty. You are the only competent and worthy person to lead half of my army. But we, little witch, work together. Always. You don't change something that works perfectly. Get ready. We're landing soon." He leaves you with a quick kiss on your temple.

He walks away from you with a sly smirk, as if he's managed to trick you. You sigh as you watch him walk out of sight, walking with a spring in his step towards his room, probably to grab his things and get his harpies ready to leave.

You look out the ship's window at Arrakis for the last time. You close your eyes, promising yourself that since the Bene Gesserit, Feyd Rautha, Giedi Prime, or the Harkonens hadn't killed you, this damn planet wouldn't do this either. You weren't the same Y/N from 10 years ago. You were more powerful. Your bones won't sink into the sands of this damn dune... you'd even rather become the mother of that Kwisatz Haderach.

You practically jump out of bed with your heart beating fast as you wake up from another nightmare. You sigh shakily, pressing your hand to your mouth, trying to calm your breathing as best as you can as your heart pounds frantically against your chest.

The screams of your companions echo in your ears, and the images of the Fremen pumping the water out of them replay in your head. And that damned sandworm...

“Y/N, look at me.” His cool hands on your bare shoulders and his raspy, commanding tone bring you back to reality.

As soon as you look into Feyd Rautha's blue irises, you stop trembling. You snap out of this strange trance, trying your best to forget about the returning memories that haunted you more often during this week of your stay on Caladan. You suspect that this may have resulted in a rather close relationship with Lady Jessica. You breathe slowly, focusing on his pale skin that looks like snow, illuminated by the moonlight that streams through the window of one of the Caladan's inns.

“Breathe in and out.” He gives you another order. You nod, imitating the pace of his slow breathing as you slowly begin to calm down. "I will kill that witch as soon as I get my hands on her." He growls, brushing your sweaty hair away from your forehead with his hand. You see immense anger in his eyes and the seeds of a plan forming in his head as he thinks of many ways to make that Bene Gesserit pay for your nightmares.

"You can't. She's the prince's mother. Besides, it's not her fault that she recognised me from somewhere. I could have been more careful."

"You covered your face with a mask for an entire week, all the time, even to sleep. What can you call that other than being careful? Besides, the baron knew that these negotiations were doomed to failure anyway. It's not like her suspicions ruined them. I would have decided to leave this damned palace even without it." He assures you, slowly lowering the two of you back onto the mattress. He wraps one arm around you, his tight embrace grounding you in the moment and helping your mind focus entirely on the present rather than the dark memories from your past.

"The Baron will be furious with you. It's all my fault. You should have killed me." You say, focusing your gaze on his daggers, which are strapped to his hip. Feyd follows your gaze and snorts. He grabs your neck, forcing you to lift your head and look into his eyes again.

"And get rid of the only competent right hand I've had in years? I'd rather suffer his punishment for this... small act of disrespect towards the Atreides. And who knows? Maybe he'll even like it? Harkonnen chooses inns over Atreides' palaces. I can always say that I saw rats running freely around my chamber and decided that such conditions are not worthy of a na-Baron and they are an insult to my person that I could not allow them to do." You roll your eyes at him, but you can't help but smirk at him.

Feyd finds himself smiling slightly at the sparkle of amusement in your eyes. He decided he preferred seeing them in your eyes rather than the emptiness and terror that didn't even let you breathe normally. He reveled in the fear of others. But yours brought him more pain than joy. Unpleasant pain.

It was starting to worry him. And maybe he would think about it more if you weren't lying so close to him now, practically in his arms. At his fingertips if he wanted to play with you. But, surprisingly, he didn't. And even if so, he wanted it only if you were as desperate for his touch as he was for yours.

"There are also rats on Giedi Prime. And you have to share a room with me because there's not enough space here for all of us. I'm sure your harpies are furious. You'd probably rather do something else with them, too, than hold me through my nightmares like some scared little child." You tease him, snapping him from his thoughts. He looks at you carefully, admiring the way the beads of sweat on your forehead glisten in the moonlight.

He feels a strange, new desire to make them be caused by him... or rather, by the activity he would subject you to. His gaze returns to your eyes and your lips, and he feels himself harden slightly as his thoughts turn to fantasies about you—something he's been doing a lot more of lately. One of his harpies mentioned something about him moaning your name...

"Maybe you actually deserve this punishment? Such sharp language…" He whispers huskily, tracing the line of your jaw with the pad of his thumb. He watches you carefully, and, as usual, he sees no fear in your eyes. Even when his fingers travel to your neck and then to the fabric of your nightgown, imagine how close he is to touching what you hide from him and everyone else behind your outfits designed to fit you into staying in the shadows and fighting. If he could, he would dress you in the most beautiful silks and jewellery so that he could feast his eyes on the only beautiful view of Giedi Prime. You see a crease form on his forehead as he becomes aware of this strange desire. He removes his hand before he goes too far to come back, and he clears his throat as he focuses his gaze on your eyes again. "What was that? That dream?"

"I... I don't want to talk about it." Feyd feels how you tense up just thinking about your nightmare. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't care. He wouldn't spare a thought or, if he was curious enough, force them to talk. But with you... he just nods and gives you space, turning to lay on his side of the bed.

"Feyd..." His heart beats faster after you use his name for the first time. He turns to your side of the bed so he can fully look at you. He hums, pretending that you're not giving him a heart attack and that he's not replaying the soft, gentle tone with which you said his name in his head. And he wants to hear it again. In many ways. A quiet whisper, a cry, a scream of pleasure as he makes you come... "I... can you..."'

He doesn't wait for you to ask him. And he could. He could make you beg for him to bring you the comfort you need or mock you for being so defenceless and scared, but how can he make you do that when you look at him with those doe eyes? How can he do anything other than pull you into his chest, place his hand on your head, and play with your hair, guiding your face into the crook of his neck as you look at him like no one has ever done before?

He wasn't the type of man you turned to for comfort or solace, and yet here you were, lying next to him, just wanting to feel his safe embrace around you again. He smiles when he feels your breathing and pulse slow as you fall asleep against him, allowing him to be with you in your unconscious state. He could do many things to you. He could slit your throat, stab you in the heart, scalp you of all your beautiful hair, and touch and taste any part of you he wanted. Satisfy himself with you and give yourself to his concubines when he ends using you.

But all he can do, as you sleep so peacefully on his chest, is pull the covers tighter around you and place a gentle kiss on your head. He doesn't remember the last time he felt such peace or the last time he felt wanted—not because of his status or the benefits he could bring to someone, but simply because someone wanted to be close to HIM.

"After all… I guess Caladan isn't that bad, my little witch." He whispers, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

Feyd liked to think that the moment you first said his name and clung to him after the nightmare for comfort and security (IN HIM) was the moment he fell for you. But the truth was that it was a day later, after his uncle had punished him, inflicting various wounds with a blade on him, that you returned to the Giedi Prime without the expected agreement with Atreides. And, of course, he didn't rat you out. He took the blame. After all, it was his fault. He put your well-being above anything else and ordered to leave Caladan when Lady Jessica became too attentive to you. And he would do it again. He couldn't lose his right hand.

You felt guilty and took care of him. And those few days when you played the role of his nurse were the best ones in his life.

Feyd learned to love pain. Numerous punishments made it impossible for him not to do that. But he loved your gentle touch even more, esepcially when you tried your best to heal him. And he could get a thousand cuts or even more if it was the price of feeling your tender, caring touch on his skin once again.

And lying there with a torn back, looking at your sleeping form next to his bed, ready to meet his every little wish; he promised himself that he would do it. He will feel your hands on his body again. In better, less bloody circumstances. And definitely not with worry staining your beautiful eyes. But desire. Passion. Affection. Maybe even love.

"Uncomfortable, my lord?" You mock him with a little smirk as you both lie on the sand, observing the surroundings.

"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You huff, shaking your head at his words. You know it's the last thing he'll actually do at this point. You use your binoculars to zoom in on a specific sand dune, in the middle of which there should be a Fremen base.

"Someone woke up with his left foot. I thought you'd be more enthusiastic about the upcoming fight." You say, trying to spot any movement, silhouette, or anything that indicates that your informant was right, and this is the place where one of the more important sietches are.

"I am. But it's damn hot here. Besides, sand gets in where it shouldn't." You smile, barely holding back your laughter, as Feyd allows himself to grumble next to you. You squeal in shock as he spanks you. You look away from the dune and give him an offended, shocked look when he chuckles hoarsely at your reaction.

"You're lucky that it's just a desert and that you're not dressed all in black like our soldiers. If this shipment of new equipment, weapons, and uniforms does not arrive this week, I will return to Giedi Prime and slaughter these useless scientists and engineers. Besides, your harpies will probably be more than happy to help you get rid of every little grain of sand from your body."

"Jealous?" He asks as you go back to watching the dunes.

"I wouldn't willingly be around these cannibals even if you paid me." You say, ignoring the fact that he was clearly asking if you were jealous of HIM, not the fact that he has his concubines and you don't. You shiver, feeling his piercing, burning gaze on you.

You're a little annoyed that he's doing practically nothing. Apparently, he too must have felt the effects of spending many weeks in that damn desert, and he had enough. Just like all of you.

"Arrakis brings out your more feisty side… I like it." He takes the binoculars from you and looks in a completely different direction. You snort, trying to see what caught his eye. You frown as you see a sandworm scurrying in the distance. But it wasn't under the sand... "Tell squad six to kill it. Those rats must be moving around again."

"Will you waste the bomb on a sandworm?"

"Only the most important Fremen travel like this. Whoever's on the back of this is not just anyone." You nod. You turn on the communicator and share information with the group, giving them the orders. You feel Feyd's eyes focused on you all the time. You roll your eyes and shift your gaze to his as he continues to stare at you curiously.

"What?"

"You've been here before, right? You may not know the ways of the Fremen, but I can see in your eyes that this planet is no stranger to you."

"The Bene Gesserit prepared us for every circumstance." You answered him deceptively. However, this does not quench his curiosity. And you know that since you're doomed to wait here for a good hour before anything happens, you're doomed to keep him entertained.

"Did they send you to Giedi Prime too?"

"No. But I was often send to Caladan." You say, not realizing how bad a move it was. The wrinkle on his forehead and the gentle tightening of his hand on his blades prove to you what an idiot you are. But you can't keep an eye on the dunes and anticipate his mood swings at the same time. Which he's had quite a lot of since you came to Arrakis. He didn't show it to anyone else, but you could see that the heat was bothering him just as much as it was for all of you.

"Why? Breeding program? Don't tell me you were supposed to be Atreides' pet." He spit out from his mouth the names of the people who were his family's greatest nemeses, as if it were some kind of dead poison. Even though the Atreides were long dead, buried in the sands of Arrakis, he still talked about them with huge hostility.

No. I was supposed to be your pet.

"I don't know." You slide off the sand to get out of sight of your possible opponents. There's no point in observing the area now. You know that your best men and their troops are positioned around you, so you could have left them to make the first attack. For now, you had to defuse a bomb that was about to explode next to you.

"You don't talk about it often. About the Bene Gesserit." He pursues the topic further, following in your footsteps. You both are standing on a small ledge, with your backs pressed against a sandstone. You don't have much space, so you have to rest your arm on his so as not to fall down and crash into the rocks below you.

"I don't want to remember it. I have another life now. Better one." You say, fiddling with your communicator. You issue a surveillance order to the rest of your units and turn it off, waiting for them to notice something. You take the shawl off your head and wipe your sweaty forehead with it.

"I won't let them hurt you again. Or anyone else." You freeze for a moment at his words. All you can do is stare at him in shock as he reaches for your face and grabs your hair. He ties them awkwardly, making sure they don't get in your face. It's a sweet gesture... even too sweet for him. And you wonder how the hell he knows how to tie someone's hair back.

You are about to tie your shawl around your forehead again when Feyd suddenly takes it from you. He wipes the back of your neck and makes sure there isn't a single bead of sweat on your face before he ties your shawl around his wrist.

"Who said they hurt me?" You ask, swallowing. You try to hide the tremble in your voice, but you suddenly become very aware of how close you are to each other. And that you two are completely alone...

"Your eyes and actions tell me more than you can let through your mouth, little witch."

"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You respond with what he told you earlier without thinking much about it.

You gasp in shock as he presses you against the sandstone behind you, guiding the two of you deeper. His dilated pupils, slightly clenched jaw, and rapid breathing confirm how fucked up you are. You've lost your damn guard. Again. And now he will use it to his advantage.

"Oh, my darling little witch… you don't know how much I want you to do this…" He growls in your ear. His nose traces a path from your hair to your neck, inhaling your scent. You shiver as his lips brush against your neck.

"What are you doing?" You moan as he sucks your neck and bites it lightly, leaving a hickey there. He moves his head away from you and looks at the trail he created. He hums lightly, planning where to leave the next one. And another one. And another. And another...

"Shhh... We have a few minutes before they stop bombarding them. Another few before the dust settles and before we enter those rats' canals... let me make sure that my right hand is properly relaxed in the meantime."

As usual, he doesn't give you time to respond. He leans down and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. His chapped lips brush against yours, gently urging you to open your mouth for him. You try to tighten them as best you can, but he somehow manages to bite your lip, which makes him immediately clear the way for his tongue.

You gasp as his hands cup your ass. His fingers dig into your flesh, and you know that if it weren't for the thick tactical suit, it would have left bruises in the shape of his fingers. He picks you up without breaking the kiss and presses you against the stone-sand wall of the small cave.

You moan as his bulge rubs against your clothed core. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, holding yourself up as he peppers your neck with hickeys, grinding against you.

On Giedi Prime, you would struggle with him, trying to break free from his grip. But here, while you've been busy planning, tracking, fighting, and increasing your spice production for the last few weeks, you haven't had any opportunity... to take care of yourself. He wasn't helping either, following you around and acting like a fucking guard dog. And from what you heard from your room next to his in the night, he wasn't denying himself anything. Damn bastard.

What you didn't know was that he was fucking his fist thinking about you all this time because, since the two of you shared a bath, none of his concubines have been able to please him. So he's just as desperate as you are.

You moan as he thrusts into you, especially hard. He also purrs against your neck at the sounds you make. You're well aware that if it didn't take you forever to put your clothes back on, he'd already have you naked beneath him, fucking you wildly and giving you orgasm after orgasm... and you almost want to let him. If only those fucking witches weren't planning on breeding you with him, you would have been riding him wild a long time ago.

At one point, he bites into your neck, making you scream uncontrollably. You blush furiously when he pulls away from your neck with your blood on his full lips and gives you a hungry, lustful look.

"Take off your pants." He orders you. He licks the blood from his lips and leans down to lick the rest from your neck, leaving a few more hickeys on it.

"We… can't… we... battle..." He suddenly stops making any movements, but instead of moving away from you, as you think he will, he grabs you tightly by the throat. He squeezes lightly and leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He breathes deeply and heavily, nuzzling his nose against yours before opening his eyes to fix his wide pupils on yours.

"Are you defying me?" You shake your head, always being a good soldier. "Good girl. Pants down, or I'll rip them off, and you'll have to walk back to the base without them."

This is a very real threat. And even though you know he would rather kill any man who dares to look at you in this state than expose you to the… lust of the hundreds of men who were on the base, you have no desire to parade around Arrakis with your bare ass. You start to take off your pants, slowly unbuttoning them. He won't even let you take them off of you all the way. As soon as he sees your exposed pussy, he drops to his knees in front of you, holding your hips in a tight grip.

"She blocks me so much when she has a damn spring between her legs… a real desert oasis…" He mumbles, his fingers collecting your wetness. You gasp as he looks you straight in the eye, sucking your juices from his finger. You lick your lips unconsciously, your brain completely stunned by the suddenness of the situation, the lust overwhelming you, the sight of him on his knees for you, as well as the spice in the air.

You don't even protest when he licks the stripe of your pussy and tightens his grip on your hips, pressing his face against your crotch. As he begins to lick and suck on your more sensitive parts, you scratch his scalp with your nails in a vain attempt to grab something. His dark, raspy chuckle against your clit makes you even wetter, as the vibrations and fingers teasing your entrance only fuel your desire.

He eats you like he's really dying of thirst. He brings out in you sounds that you would be ashamed of if you were in a better, saner, more aware state. And you try to maintain the last of your dignity and stifle your moans by placing a hand over your mouth, but he growls in protest and removes your hands so quickly that you have no idea when it happened. He places it on his shoulder, encouraging you to dig your nails into him as he devours you like his life depends on it. Like he would die if he didn't make you cum, lick up every last bit of wetness from between your legs.

At one point, he puts your leg over his shoulder. He's even closer to you (if possible), but you're not really paying attention to what he's doing as long as his mouth and fingers are still working their magic on you. You pull him closer, chasing your sweet release, when suddenly, he pulls away.

You growl in anger, opening your eyes. He's still on his knees in front of you, his face covered in your juices, and he's staring at you hungrily as if his face wasn't buried in your pussy moments ago.

"Say my name." His demand throws you off balance for a moment. You open your mouth to argue with him, to taunt him, but instead you close it quickly, biting your lip as his finger lazily moves in and out of your needy pussy. "Scream my name and I'll let you cum."

You don't want to give in to him like that. You don't want to show any weakness. But his fingers stretch you so wonderfully, hitting your most sensitive spot. You tremble around his fingers, biting your lip until it draws blood, too proud to admit to yourself how weak you were.

You escaped from the Bene Gesserit and from your fate to the only safe place; it's darkest under the lamp. No one in their right mind would willingly hide in the house of the man to whom you were supposed to submit. But it turned out that you were following the path these witches laid out for you anyway. But damn, he made you feel like you'd never felt with any man or woman...

You growl furiously as he removes his fingers again—right when you're finally about to come. He laughs hoarsely, sucking his fingers clean of your wetness.

"You're extending my fun, little witch. You must like it as much as I do." You protest as he dips his fingers inside you again, taking you close the edge again. You grab his neck, trying to pull him towards you, but he just laughs, intensifying the work of his fingers and fending off your feeble attempts to pull his face back to your needy cunt. "You know what you have to do to cum." He reminds you with a cocky smirk, watching your trembling, panting form.

Feyd drinks in the sight of you, so needy and desperate to orgasm. And it's all because of him. Every little moan, the closing of your eyes and the tilt of your head in pleasure, the ragged breathing, the quickening of your heartbeat, the wetness between your legs, the sweet nectar of the gods dripping down your thighs—it was all because of him. His cock hardens as he imagines how you'll react as he pounds into you like an animal in heat, stretching your tight walls for him. How you'll clench around his length and dig your nails into his back to feel him as close to you as possible. Or when you swell beautifully with his heir...

He will have you there. Willingly. He will prepare you as he is now; he will fuck out of you any thought until nothing except the desire for him remains.

"Feyd..." You moan as he unconsciously speeds up the movements of his fingers, thrusting them into you at breakneck speed. He smiles, blowing air at your pussy, making you moan even louder.

"Again." He demands, licking the small trail of your juices that has formed on your thighs. He welcomes the way you wet his hand and your shawl that was wrapped around his wrist. He'll save it for later this night.

"Feyd!" You pull on his head and he obliges. He couldn't be cruel to you in this state.

You come suddenly, quickly, and intensely. Your vision is blurry and unclear, and your blood is rushing through you as you moan loudly, holding on to him with all your might.

The next thing you know, he's holding you tightly by your trembling legs as he lowers you to his lap. You straddle him, hugging him tightly as you breathe slowly, trying to get back to a state of relative using after he fucked the orgasm of your life out of you. You hide your face in his neck, too disappointed in yourself to see the proud smirk on his face. He lazily rubs your back, holding you as you regain your strenght.

"You owe me, little witch. And you know, I always collect my debt." He growls hoarsely in your ear and presses a kiss on your temple. You can smell your scent on him. You blush, embarrassed, as you can feel desire rising in you again. "No response? Not a single malicious comment? Did I make you come so hard that now you are speechless? Are you really just a little mouse in need of my attention under that strong witch façade?"

"I'm not a fucking mouse." You snap at him in anger, finally coming to your senses.

"So that's the first one. Even better for me." He stands up, slowly carrying you from his lap to the ground. He reaches for your pants and helps you put them on. He grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him. You can't stand alone. You can't fucking stand alone. He laughs as he realises it, which irritates you to the point where you can't control yourself anymore.

"Shut up." You use your voice on him before you bite your tongue to stop yourself. Silence falls between you for a moment. You swallow, realising what you've done. You open your mouth to explain yourself, but, as usual, he beats you to it.

"Hmm… interesting. So you have that fire in you…" He tangles his hand in your hair and watches you closely, fascinated by the way you used your voice on him for the first time. "As sweet as I thought. Better than any water… Use that voice on me in a way I don't like, and I will really punish you, little witch. And this time, it will only be pleasant for me. Understood?" You nod your head with clenched teeth. "Good girl. Let's go. I believe they stopped dropping bombs right when you came on my face and fingers." He brags, letting you go when he sees you can stand on your own. You roll your eyes, realising how often he'll brag about it. You draw your blade and follow him, looking forward to hunting for Fremen.

You try to ignore the sand that… got where he was a few seconds ago and where he had it himself too. Damn bastard.

You walk through the corridors of your base. You're covered in blood, but it doesn't bother you much. Maybe a little when you remember that you will have to remove clotted blood from your hair. You sigh, adjusting the scarf around your neck that you took from some fremen to hide the hickeys as you walk to the war room to give new orders to the soldiers.

The Sietch has been completely destroyed by you. You murdered most of the fremen, and those left alive were taken prisoner... or to the camp brothel. You preferred not to go into details.

As you walk through the halls, you hear rustling behind you. You take a few slow steps and turn around, with your hand on your dagger, only to see na-Baron's harpies. You tense up as you watch the three women carefully and distrustfully.

"How can I help you?" You ask them, trying to avoid showing them genuine disgust and hostility. After all, they had somehow kept Feyd away from you… for now.

"The little witch is in trouble…"

"Our master will be very angry with her…"

"Maybe he'll even let us suck her bones when he's done with her…"

They say one by one, tilting their heads as they observe you. You shiver slightly, but you quickly adopt a hostile, intimidating stance, not caring much about what they say. They may have been cannibals, but you were a trained soldier and killer. You would kill them in a heartbeat if they weren't useful to you in some way.

"What do you want, vultures?" You growl at them, expecting them to get scared and return to their master's chamber, waiting for him like faithful dogs.

"The little witch's friend is here…"

"Our master is interrogating her…"

"And he learns very interesting things about the witch."

"When he's done with her, he'll be ours again."

"We will eat her meat and feast, celebrating our victory."

And what really should scare you more is the part about them saying they're going to eat you, but all you can think about is that friend he's interrogating. Another Bene Gesserit? Impossible. You made sure that everyone who came into contact with you either believed you were dead or forgot that you existed. Except for one… No. No, that wasn't possible.

"I have the blood of hundreds of rats on me. Get out of my sight unless you want yours to adorn my armor. And believe me… I will do it with great pleasure. I bet your master would fuck me on your corpse as a reward." You snap at them, still processing what may have been happening in the interrogation room. If your suspicions were true... you didn't even want to think about it. This couldn't be happening. You're paranoid. After so many years of keeping everything a secret... you couldn't lose control that easily.

You pay them no further attention and continue walking, ignoring their hisses and mocking laughter as you change your plans and head to the interrogation room.

You had to run away. As far away from here as possible. But if you do, he will chase after you. And when he finds you, and there is no doubt that he will, he will gut you and throw your remains to his harpies.

So you couldn't escape. You had to face him and try to tame him somehow. But how the hell are you going to explain to him that you ran away from the Bene Gesserit with him because you didn't want to be his concubine? Maybe a few years ago he would have understood it, but now that he has found this strange obsession with you, how could you get out of this situation? He'll cut you up before you even try to say anything.

You pass soldiers standing at the door of the interrogation room. They nod at you, letting you in as you hesitantly walk over to see for yourself if the situation is actually as dire as you think.

You feel the cold metal door on your back as it closes behind you with a bang. You freeze in place, swallowing nervously, as you see the Fremen Reverend Mother handcuffed to a chair. What scares you much more than the fact that it is really a Bene Gesserit is that it's Lady Jessica. Your former trainer in that sick sisterhood.

Feyd is standing right in front of her. His hands are gripped tightly around his daggers, and his gaze is focused on the woman in front of him. He strokes the blade of his dagger with his thumb as he is lost in his thoughts. He behaved as if he were completely oblivious to you, but you know him better than to even think for a while that he didn't notice your entrance. But he doesn't say anything as he continues to stare at her intently.

"She can tell you that herself. Right, Y/N?" Lady Jessica looks at you, raising an eyebrow defiantly. Even captured, she looks proud, as if she were the one who had power over what was happening in the room. "I should thank you. If it weren't for you, Paul would never have taken over the Kwisatz Haderach's way. No matter how hard I tried..."

"Feyd…" You ignore her and walk over to Harkonnen. You place a hand on his shoulder, but he just flinches at your touch, moving away from you. His eyes were fixed on the floor; he wasn't giving you even a single glance.

"I'm not surprised. If they sent me to breed with such a monster, I would also run away... not necessarily into his arms, but I really admire your skillful mind. To come up with such intrigue. No one would ever imagine that a little scared girl would run straight into the lion's mouth to take shelter there. I remember how you cried down my skirt when you found out what your mission was. I never would have imagined that my apprentice would go so far."

"Silence!" You shout at her, using the voice, and surprisingly, you succeed. You don't have time to try to understand what just happened—that you used your voice against a much stronger woman than you, the Reverend Mother. You walk up to Feyd and cup his cheek with your hand, forcing him to look at you.

His gaze is blank. He's wearing his mask, blocking out any emotions that might get through and reveal what he's thinking. He takes your hand and moves it away from his face, pushing you away from him like a bug.

"Would you like to see a monster, concubine of the Atreides? I'll be more than happy to show you one…" Before either of you can react, Feyd swings, creating a long gash across her chest. The woman gasps in shock, placing her hand on her wound, from which blood is now flowing down on the floor.

Before you can take a breath to talk some sense into him, he plunges the blade into her chest. You tremble as you hear the sound of cracked bones under the movement of his dagger and the witch's screams.

You don't do anything. You just stand there, watching as Feyd takes out his anger on her, disembowelling her. The metallic smell of blood hits your nostrils, but even that doesn't cause you to react. All you can do is stand and watch. And wait for your turn.

You feel sick as Lady Jassica's screams remind you of your friends who died on Arrakis. You deny what's happening in front of you as your thoughts return to that fateful day.

You weren't sent to Arrakis to try to survive. No, the plan created by Bene Gesserit was much worse. You were sent there to kill each other. This sick test was intended to eliminate weak individuals, leaving only one Bene Gesserit alive, the one who was the strongest among the young generation of women trained by these mad witches.

You were sent on one ship, thrown into the desert with weapons and one bottle of water, as an act of mercy. There were fifty of you. You killed half of them. Or at least that's what the Reverend Mothers told you after the Sisterhood took you back from there..

You were the only one left alive.

From that day on, you promised yourself that you would never let them control your life or make you go through these tests again. You didn't want to take part in their sick games ever again. You preferred to die rather than become their tool again, a monster that blindly follows their orders.

You never wanted to feel powerless or furiously frustrated again.

And now, standing there and staring blankly as Feyd killed the woman who was your mentor in front of you, you felt as if you were once again that helpless girl who is forced to do as she is told and who has no power over anything that is happening around her.

You flinch as blood reaches your shoes. You look up to see Na-Baron turning towards you. Blood was dripping down his armour as he cleaned his blades on her clothes, which were already soaked in blood.

For a moment, you delude yourself, thinking that it's not what you think. That he didn't actually discover the truth about your past in the Bene Gesserit by accident. That everything will be all right, just how it used to.

But by the look in his icy-blue eyes, you know he knows. He gives you the same angry, bloodthirsty glare that he gives his victims moments before they die. But there's something else there. Pain. Betrayal. Without knowing why, you feel a flood of guilt wash over you, outweighing your fear. But you didn't owe him anything. No loyalty or sincere devotion.

You gasp as he pushes you against the wall and presses the knife to your neck, breathing heavily. You feel it gently pierce your skin, causing blood to leak from the wound and run down your neck. He doesn't move away. He doesn't bend down to lick it off your skin. He presses further and harder, looking straight into your eyes. And you don't know if he's just testing you or if he really wants to kill you.

Suddenly, fucking him wasn't the worst solution to the situation you found yourself in...

Part III Taglist: (I hope that everyone is here...) @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13

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lollytea · 2 years

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Yes it might have taken me an embarrassingly long time to really pay attention to it but in ASIAS, along with the 'half a witch' parallel, both Hunter and Willow are motivated by upholding the legacy of those who came before them. That picture of Gilbert and Harvey being flyer derby champions is just as significant to her as the Golden Guard sigil is to him.

#other miscellaneous ASIAS thoughts that are not worth their own post but i think about them often:#its an episode that asks ''but who are you outside of the roles this story uses to define you?''#this is the only episode of the Hunter Makes Friends series where his actions are not motivated by Belos #and Willow is neither one of Luz's two best friends nor the estrangled acquaintance to Amity #both characters are unnattached to those influences here. And without those roles slotting them into predictable places #we're able to explore new nooks and crannies of their personalities #stuff that really hasnt been revealed before #the two of them are trying out something new and a little out of their comfort zone and it pulls new traits out of them #Hunter’s hexside infiltration reveals him to be WAY more socially awkward than previous eps have shown #and then after his flyer derby match it really brings out his excitement over having friends and the genuine affection he has for them #Meanwhile this is the ep that really establishes what an ambitous go getter Willow can be #Shes never been a leader before. Shes never been this direct or ruthless. But her dedication to this team really pulls it out of her #and these lesser known sides of themselves are the version the other meets #lastly it is a very good take on a Person Vs Society story #again Hunter's internal conflict in this episode has nothing to do with Belos. He literally never gave a fuck if Hunter had magic #But Hunter was still born and raised on the boiling isles and no matter how sheltered he is #the inherent prejudices of the place is gonna gnaw at his self confidence. hes gonna internalize this shit #so while every Hunter ep before this was about how Belos has manipulated his self of worth as a person #this time we are dealing with how hunter views himself as a WITCH #MEANWHILE Willow's struggles with have always been entirely focused on her insecurity as a witch #her terrible grades and her severed friendship has always been about her insufficient abilities with magic #but in this ep you learn that it goes deeper than that #she berates herself not because of her magical ability but because she believes that shes stupid #the half a witch thing has severely deteriorated her worth as a PERSON #their respective struggles go in different directions in this ep and their emotions are complicated #but they still overlap enough that they can understand what the other is feeling #OKAY AND LASTLY AGAIN. Forreal this time #that scene when Darius is about to attack the entrails and Willow throws her arms out to shield all three of them #and then Hunter proceeds to run in and shield HER #because SOMEONE had to shield her. they are instinctive protectors. they are the same

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rafeandonlyrafe · 6 months

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my angel

part 2 to angel

words: 3.6k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, protected sex, p in v sex, reader is a stripper, reader also gets called a bitch and assaulted but its not very graphic or "bad", f receiving oral

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @spear-bearing-bi-witch @ghostlycrystobalove

“there’s my favorite regular.” you smile, plopping down on rafes lap before he even pays. you know that he’s good for it.

“angel.” rafes hands land on your hips, rubbing his thumbs over the bare skin there. security already knows that you consent to his touches.

as promised, rafe has become a regular at your strip club. some days he comes with his friends, who you have learned are named topper and kelce, but it’s usually just him, alone in his regular seat, eyes not drifting from you, ignoring all the other strippers who try to get his attention, especially after seeing how much he tips.

you sometimes take him in back, depending on the day and how long it’s been since he’s last been in. he’s always more needy, willing to pay for more when he’s away for a couple nights, but you stick to your original rule of mouth only.

“lap dance?” you ask, watching rafe pull a bill out of his shirt pocket.

“how about i pay you for a lap dance and you sit here and talk to me instead? just for five minutes, i want to get to know you better.” rafe has been trying to get closer to you every week, and as he spends more time there, you start to let him, but still say no politely every time he asks you out.

“mmm, fine.” you hum, letting yourself relax on his lap, feeling your core press against his thigh. “stick it here.” you pull on the cup of your bra, allowing rafe to slot the folded up bill against your breast. he lets his fingers skim down the soft white fabric, teasing over your nipple briefly before dropping back down to hold onto your hips.

“where are you from?” rafe asks, and you respond with your hometown, about an hour further inland.

he continues to ask you basic questions, like your favorite color, food, and so on. you feel so natural talking back and forth that you forget that you’re even at work, until the stripper right before your set comes on stage, and you know you have to go in back to get ready.

“well, thanks for that chat, rafe.” you stand up, his hands hesitating to leave your body. “i’ll be watching you while i’m on stage.” you give him a wink and walk away, making sure to sway your ass, knowing he’s watching.

you don’t perform solo every night, so it’s a real treat for rafe when you do. you prepare backstage, putting on a few more layers and your favorite accessory, a small white befeathered pair of angel wings, to go along with your stripper name.

when your music starts, you head out onto the stage, dancing slowly to the music, keeping the act up by pretending to be shy and demure as you slowly strip off the layers of clothing that you just put on until you’re in a simple pair of white lingerie.

you twirl around the pole, every time turning to keep your eyes on rafe in the crowd, although you do try to glance at the other men, you just can’t help but be drawn to your most loyal regular.

the song changes to the last one of your set, the one where you will strip off that final layer of clothes. you’ve danced topless, but tonight is your first night going fully nude, and you feel some excitement rise over the nerves at getting to do this for rafe specifically.

you shed your top, covering your nipples with your fingertips while the crowd cheers. you finally raise your hands up, hips still moving to the beat of the song, dollars being thrown onto the stage.

you turn your back to the audience, finally ready to reveal the final part of yourself. you pull your underwear down your legs, keeping your movements as innocent as you can while dancing fully naked.

you meet rafes eyes, a look of lust in them that you hadn’t seen before. you smile, just for him, as you finish your dance before moving off the stage.

you take a deep breath, pulling on your second look of the night, only having to perform one more time in a group later on, but you were just in the back for that. you take a minute to eat some food before heading out onto the floor for lap dances.

you head straight towards rafe, wanting to get his reaction to your final dance, when your wrist is suddenly grabbed by an older man.

“hey!” you shout, tugging your arm away. “no touching.”

you know he knows the rule. everyone gets told it a thousand times before they’re allowed to enter. no touching the dancers without express permission, anywhere on their body.

“sorry, sweets, you just keep going to pretty boy over there.” the man says, and you glance up to see rafe watching the interaction with his jaw locked.

“would you like a dance?” you ask, flicking your eyes back to the man, his entire body reeking of alcohol. it’s one thing you like about rafe, he always orders a glass of whiskey, but he’s never drunk when you dance for him.

the man pulls out a $20 bill, and you snatch it out of his hand more rude than you should for a paying customer, but he put you off by grabbing your wrist, and the $20 gives you a good reason to keep it short, it doesn’t pay for a lot.

you turn around, keeping yourself hovering over the mans lap as you dance half-heartedly, letting your mind drift elsewhere than what you’re currently doing. you eventually lower down so you’re just barely touching him, but when the song ends you pull away.

“you’re not done yet, bitch.” he grabs your hips, pulling you back down as you let out a squeal, losing your footing and falling against him.

rafe is over to you quicker than security is, pulling you off of his lap and into his arms. you turn in his hold as security grabs the man, leading him towards the door as he screams about how much of a bitch you are.

“are you okay?” rafe asks, rubbing your arms, walking you to the outskirts of the room as the final number hits the stage, something you’re supposed to join in the next couple minutes, but you know security already relayed it to your boss what happened.

“yeah, i’m fine.” you shiver, glancing at the door to double check that he is actually gone. “thanks for rescuing me.”

“no problem, angel.” rafe says softly, pulling you into a hug, that you graciously accept, surprised how natural the intimate touch feels, especially considering all of your previous interactions have been sexual.

“i need to get backstage.” you sigh, forcing yourself to step away.

“of course.” rafe squeezes your hand before letting you go.

you complete the final dance of the night, body working on autopilot as you try to forget the sound of the mans voice calling you a bitch. you finish the dance and head backstage, only glancing briefly at rafe as you leave the stage.

you chat idly with the other dancers, but you mostly keep to yourself tonight as you wash your face free of makeup, change out of your lingerie for a comfy sweat set, and to your biggest relief, take off your heels for a pair of crocs.

“bye, girls!” you call, making sure to have counted your money and cleaned up your locker before leaving.

you head out the back door, swinging your car keys in your hand as you head towards your vehicle. you get the feeling of being watched, your step quickening when you hear the one voice you don’t want to.

“hey, bitch!” you don’t turn to look, breaking into a run, but the man, even in his inebriated state is faster than your tired legs, grabbing you and shoving you against your car. you hope security is watching the footage of the parking lot as you leave like they’re supposed to, but even then it will take them a full minute.

“please, let me go!” you shout, trying to force the mans hands off of you.

“hey!” you turn your head to the side, coming face to face with your savior once again as rafe shoves the guy off of you and onto the ground, his head smacking against the pavement, but he stays conscious as rafe shouts at him to never touch you or come back here again.

security runs out as you sink to the ground, dropping your head to your knees as you cry. you can tell just from the scent and feel that it’s rafe who wraps his arms around you.

“shh, you’re okay. i got you.” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

you wipe away your tears as security escorts him away, bringing him back inside to do who knows what. you’ll let your boss handle that.

“i’m okay.” you whisper, not sure how much you actually mean it as rafe helps you up off the ground.

you stand in silence for a minute, just holding his hand as you calm down.

“thank you for rescuing me. i guess you’re my angel.” you giggle, making rafe smile. “what were you still doing here anyways?” “well…” rafe trails off, looking guilty. “i always stay until i see you get into your car. just to make sure that you’re safe. you really shouldn’t be walking out alone.”

“rafe, oh my god.” you pitch yourself forward, wrapping your arms around his torso. “you really don’t have to do that, that’s so sweet.” “i wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, angel.” he squeezes you against him.

“y/n.” you pull away to look rafe in the eye as you tell him. “my name is y/n.”

rafes mouth breaks into a wide grin. “nice to finally meet you, y/n.”

you turn to look at your car before turning back to rafe. “i really don’t want to be alone tonight.” you tell him, hoping he gets the hint, and you can tell from the look in his eye that he understands exactly what you want, lacing your hands together and leading you towards his car.

you keep quiet on the drive, not even sure how long it is, focusing on the music and rafes hand on your thigh to quell the negative thoughts of if it’s a bad idea to go back with someone who you’ve never seen outside of the strip club.

rafe pulls up to a huge house, and you gape for a moment, but you knew he had money, so it’s not too much of a surprise as he heads around the car to open the door for you.

“thanks for letting me stay over.” you say, admiring how beautiful rafe looks in the moonlight.

“of course, y/n.” rafe smiles, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek and pulling you into a kiss. you kiss back instantly, keeping it sweet but still passionate as you enjoy the moment before rafe pulls away to lead you inside, and up into his bedroom, not wanting to waste any time.

“did you like my dance today?” you ask as rafe sits on the bed. you stand in between his legs, letting his hands run over your hips and thighs.

“i loved it.” he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your stomach over your hoodie. “such a pretty pussy.”

he tugs at the zipper, pulling it down and letting it fall from your shoulders, leaving you in a thin tanktop, clearly not wearing any bra. rafe smiles, cupping your breasts. “i may see these every week, but i still am breathless every time i see your body.”

you pull your top off, rafes hands quickly taking the same place without the layer of fabric in between. you moan as his thumbs rub over your nipples.

“fuck, it feels so good.” you moan as rafe leans forward, his lips wrapping around your nipple and giving it a suck. you press your chest into his mouth as his fingers toy with the other nipple, giving you equal stimulation before switching to taste the other one.

rafe pulls away to take his shirt off, and your eyes widen at the muscles revealed. you could tell he was fit, but seeing him shirtless has you in awe.

“take your pants off and get on the bed.” rafe stands when you take a step back to pull your sweatpants and underwear off all at once, no point in hiding it when rafes seen it all before. you lay down on the bed, not sure what position rafe is going to want to fuck you in, all you know is that you want him.

rafe pulls his pants off but leaves his underwear on as he climbs onto the bed. you expect him to continue up and kiss you, but he drops to his stomach in between your legs.

“rafe-” you gasp when he presses kisses to your thighs, trying to get him to stop by closing your legs.

“shh, no.” rafe says gently, pushing your legs back open. “you’ve given me blowjobs with nothing in return, let me eat you out.”

“you paid me in return!” you argue back, feeling your wetness grow at the thought of rafes mouth against your cunt. you’ve never had such an intimate moment with a man before, all of the ones you’ve been with in the past just wanting to use your pussy for their pleasure then leave.

“those were pennies compared to what you deserve. come on baby, let me taste this pretty pussy.” “i’ve never…” you sigh, ashamed to admit this, “i’ve never had someone eat me out before.”

rafe is silent for a moment, and you worry what he’s thinking. “i know i’m a stripper and everything but i’m not super experienced and i’ve just never-” “baby.” rafe says softly, getting you to shut your mouth. “i am only mad that no man has ever done this to you before. you absolutely deserve the pleasure i am about to give you.”

and with that, rafe leans forward, going straight for your clit as he licks broad strokes over the most sensitive part of you, making you see stars from the sudden pleasure he brings you.

“oh my god, yes!” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure overwhelms you. rafe drops his mouth lower, tongue lapping against your entrance and greedily tasting your wetness, gathering it all into his mouth.

he swirls his tongue along your folds, touching new parts of you with every movement, keeping his focus on your pleasure as he darts back to your clit to press kisses to it, your back arching off the bed as you cry out.

“you’ve had a hard day, y/n.” rafe says, barely pulling his mouth away from your pussy, letting his words vibrate. “just relax and let me make you feel good.”

you take a deep breath and settle into the bed, bringing your hands to his hair as you push his head back between your spread thighs. rafe juts his tongue out, letting you move him as he licks obsessively over your pussy.

he brings his mouth back to your clit, kissing and licking gently as one of his fingers prods at your entrance, easily being able to slip in due to how wet you are.

rafe moans against your clit as he pumps his finger in and out of you. you want to squeal at the movement, but you manage to control yourself to just moans as you feel your high getting closer, never having it come so quickly with a partner before.

“fuck, rafe, i’m close!” you warn, but he doesn’t pull away, doubling down on his efforts until you burst, flooding his mouth as you squirt onto the bed sheets, but it doesn’t phase him as he continues to eat you out as you ride out your orgasm.

he finally pulls his face away from your soaked cunt, wiping his mouth against a dry part of the bed sheets.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry, i didn’t think i was gonna squirt.” you cover your face with your hands.

“y/n.” rafe says gently, draping his body over yours and pulling your hands away from your face. “you have nothing to be embarrassed about. that was the hottest thing ever. look how hard you made me.”

rafe presses against your core, and you moan out from your oversensitive clit being stimulated so soon after an orgasm, wishing the fabric of his underwear wasn’t in the way so rafe could plunge inside of you.

“can i fuck you now or do you need a break?” rafe smirks when you scoff, you need him immediately and you think your body might just explode if he isn’t inside of you soon.

rafe tugs his underwear off, revealing his cock that you’ve had in your mouth so many times, now about to cross the final boundary. rafe grabs a condom he must have tossed onto the bed at some point, rolling it over his cock before getting back into position, hovering over you.

you don’t bother to argue about letting you ride him after he ate you out, knowing rafe is focused on your pleasure right now, not like guys you’ve been with in the past wanting you to ride them and then bust within minutes.

“god, i’ve wanted this so bad since i first laid eyes on you.” rafe mumbles, mostly speaking to himself as his cock presses against your entrance.

you connect your lips in a kiss as he pushes inside, both simultaneously moaning as he sinks deeper into your cunt until he’s completely nestled in your heat.

“you can move.” you whisper after a moment, not needing anymore time to adjust, craving his quick thrusts into you, but while rafe starts to move, he keeps it slow and passionate, rolling his hips against yours in a steady motion.

“heaven.” rafe kisses your forehead, then both your cheeks, before connecting your mouth in a kiss. “your pussy is heaven.”

you blush under the praise, not used to something so intimate, used to sex being impersonal, being seen just as an object.

“god, you have to keep letting me fuck you after this, angel, i’m never gonna get enough.” rafe moans, grinding against you to give your clit some stimulation.

“you can fuck me whenever you want if you-” you gasp at a particularly deep thrust from rafe “move faster.” rafe smiles, hips starting to buck into you with earnest now, his cock pressing so deep that it has you seeing stars.

“fuck, that’s good.” you whine, squirming underneath rafe as he ignores your movements underneath him, focusing on thrusting into you.

rafe grunts as you feel his cock move against your walls, his face twisting in pleasure. you grab his shoulders, needing to feel connected to him.

“this…” you pant, moving your body on the bed to match rafes thrusts, bringing your hips up despite the burn in your stretched thighs. “is the best sex i’ve ever had.” you tell him honestly.

the side of rafes lip quirks up in a cocky smile, bending to press your lips together as he keeps his rhythm. you regret not agreeing to this earlier. you would have fucked rafe the first night he came to the club if you knew he was this good in bed.

“sounds like you should be the one paying me.” rafe jokes, making you slap his shoulder gently, unable to really laugh as he keeps you moaning with his cock touching every part of you, his pelvic hitting your clit with every thrust.

“close.” you tell rafe, feeling your orgasm building up again, hoping rafe is also close because you’re not sure how much longer you can hold back.

“me too, baby.” rafe groans, his cock swelling inside of you. you’re unable to hold back the rush any longer, entire body shaking as rafes cock forces your orgasm from you, again a rush of liquid being expelled as your arms tighten around rafes shoulders, pulling his body flush against yours, wanting to feel as much of him as possible.

you barely even notice rafe pulling out and tugging the condom off, rutting against your stomach until he cums, covering your torso.

you breathe deeply as you let go, letting rafe flop to the side to lay on the bed next to you, both recovering from the activity, heartbeat slowly coming back to normal. when you’re able to move your body again, you turn on your side to come face to face with rafe.

“hey.” he smiles gently, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“hey.” you giggle.

“i knew you wouldn’t regret coming home to me.” rafe says, rubbing his hand over your back.

“i made a mess of your bed though.” you feel a flush of embarrassment, looking down at the wetness that has soaked into the sheets.

“we will just shower than sleep in one of the guest beds. you can make a mess of all of them for all i care, anything to have you again…” rafe pauses for a moment, letting you enjoy his rough hand smoothing over your skin. “you will let me have you again, right?” “yeah.” you nod, there’s no way you can give up rafe now that you’ve gotten a taste. “you can even take me on that date if you still want to.”

rafe smiles, positioning himself on top of your body, pressing kisses all over your face, hands tickling at your sides as you squirm with laughter underneath him. “my angel.” rafe sighs happily, pressing a kiss to your lips.

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rosepascal · 6 months

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reunion || wed!Joel Miller x reader smut

summary: Going to your 10 year high school reunion was a mistake when you're forced to see your worst enemy after all these years. After a shitty reunion you decide to ease your tension at the bar where you meet a very handsome stranger. What's wrong with indulging in a little fun? (worst enemies dad!Joel)

warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+ ONLY, rough sex, Joel is in his 50's and the reader is almost 30, pussy eating, blow job, big dick joel miller, drinking, swearing, doggy style, joel pushes your face into the pillow, cowgirl, he fucks up into you. This is pure fucking filth lmao.

part 2

a/n: sooooo uh i this happened. I hope you enjoy this fic and it lives up to all ur smutty expectations <3 Also i couldnt come up with a good acronym for this so ur getting a shitty one.

You really thought that all the high school bullshit was over. I mean you graduated 10 years ago, you’re almost 30 for fucks sake. Yet when you walked into the old school gym for your high school reunion it felt like you were transported back to some of the worst years of your life.

You should never have agreed to go.

You don’t care about what everyone is up to, you see that on instagram already. Though despite their “perfect” lives on social media, you doubt that any of it is entirely true.

“Hi! Welcome!” You’re taken back by the incredibly cheery voice greeting you as you walk in the door.

After slapping on a name tag sticker you take in the gym. You spot a few people you remember and a few people who you used to talk to. After high school you lost touch with most of the people there sadly but they wave you over and you join them to save yourself from standing alone. Catching up is nice as you sip your punch that you wish had been spiked because the night was about to become incredibly unbearable.

“Welcome class of 2013!” A shrill voice nearly peaks the mic and it makes your blood run cold.

Of course class President Courtney Miller would be here.

Ever since you were kids Courtney Miller hated your guts. She tripped you on the playground, lied to the teacher, and told you that you couldn’t play on the playground at the same time as her and her friends. As you got older it only became worse. She’d spread lies about you and make nasty comments in the hallway.

Anything you found happiness in she tried to destroy. You thought once you left school you’d never have to deal with her again. Yet she managed to appear on your social media with her perfect husband and perfect life. Seeing her again made you want to turn and run but you stand your ground.

Her fake over the top smile makes you want to gag as she goes on her speech about how happy she is to see everyone again to relive the glory days of high school. When her speech is over she gets off stage to greet her old popular friends who never grew out of high school.

In fact someone tried to fit into their old letterman jacket. Her eyes meet yours and she smirks. She saunters her way over to you and you flash her the fakest smile you can manage.

“It’s so good to see you again!” Her voice is dripping with sarcasm as the people around you turn their heads.

“The last time I remember seeing you is prom, remember? Your date stood you up and went with me instead.” She cackles like a witch as you feel anger begin to boil.

“Really? I thought the last time we saw each other was graduation, when you stuttered through your whole speech in front of everyone.” You shoot back with a smile. Her smile never falters but her eyes shoot daggers at you.

“Great catching up.” She sneers at you, walking away and bumping you in the shoulder as she does.

The reunion is uneventful for most of the night. A few whispers here and there about you and Courtney but you couldn’t care less. It was getting boring truthfully. As you walk to the snack table you feel someone bump into you, followed by the feeling of punch being thrown on your back.

“Oh sorry, didn’t see you there.” You hear laughter as you tense up from the cold drink.

Everyone is laughing and you see Courtney standing by a guy with an empty punch cup. Her eyes light up with a smug look. Of course this was her doing. Anger and embarrassment swirls in your head as you throw your cup down and storm out of the room. Cursing yourself for even going to this stupid thing. Getting in your car you throw on the jacket you brought and drive straight to the bar.

You need a drink or two and you need it now. The bar is mildly busy but not busy enough for it to be obnoxious. After taking a shot of vodka, you sip on a drink and sulk in at the bar. You never should have gone to that reunion. There was nothing for you there, just memories of 4 years of bullshit.

“Pardon me but is this seat taken?” You look up to see a man standing by you.

He’s hot. Really hot. Definitely older than you based on the salt and pepper hair. Not to mention the tight gray shirt and jeans that really make his ass look great.

“Go for it.” He sits down and orders a beer. You can feel him staring at you, not in a creepy way but more of a concerned way.

“Are you alright?” He asks as the bartender passes him his beer.

“Fine, just a shit night.”

“Tell me about it.” He raises his beer to you and you clink your glass.

What’s the harm in talking flirting with an attractive man who’s taking an interest in you. Absolutely nothing you think as you scoot your stool closer to him.

As the night goes on you get closer and closer to the man who you learned was named Joel. Joel was somehow single and had lived here since he was a kid. He owns a contracting business with his brother and he’s got a daughter but no wife. He’s touchy too. With your permission of course.

Asking you in that sweet and sexy voice if he can pull you closer. Soon the stools were ditched for a booth in the corner of the room. His hands that were once kept at his side were resting on your thigh.

You aren’t drunk, despite feeling woozy every time Joel looked you in the eyes. His beer is long gone and its clear both of you are interested in moving the night along.

“Did you drive here?” He asks as he hands the bartender his card to pay for your drinks.

“Yeah, but I’ve sobered up.” He frowns and shakes his head.

“I don’t feel right letting you drive after drinking. Tell you what,” He leans in close to your ear, his hands coming to rest on your waist.

“How about I take you back to my house, can’t let a pretty thing like you take an uber home now can I?” You bite your lip as his hands travel lower down your back.

“Sounds like a plan.” You push lightly on his chest to guide him to the door.

The drive is a blur as you sit in the passenger seat of his car. You’re both antsy as you shift in the seat. His hands clench the steering wheel making his veins pop.

All you can think about is what those hands will do to you in about 5 minutes. He pulls into his driveway and he doesn’t even turn off the car before you’re out and at his door.

“So eager.” Joel smirks as he opens his door.

The door shuts and Joel has you pressed against the floor. His lips are on yours as he roughly moves his hands to touch everywhere he can. You let out a small moan as he squeezes your ass. He takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Reveling in how fast he’s able to reduce you into a mess. Clothes are thrown on the floor without a care in the world as Joel leads you to his bedroom.

“On the bed baby, all fours.” He slaps your ass as you turn around making you jump.

As if he couldn’t get more sexy. You prop yourself on his bed, shaking your ass as you look behind you. Joel stares hungrily at your ass as he strokes his cock. Getting down on his knees he wraps his hands around your thighs and pulls you back. Teasing your pussy with his tongue.

“Fuck!” You gasp at the unexpected feeling. He locks you in place as his teasing turns into full on carnage. He’s not letting you breathe as he devours your cunt like a meal. His hands running up and down your ass, kneading it and slapping it as he pleases.

“Oh Joel!” Your head falls as pleasure courses through your body.

“Quit moving.” He scolds as he pulls you against his face. You’re practically grinding on it as he eats you out with utter precision. How this man is still single you’ll never know.

“Please please, wanna make you feel good Joel.” You whine as he pulls away from you. He wipes his face with two fingers and sticks them in his mouth as he stands.

“Fuckin’ delicous.” You nearly fold at the sight of it. Turning around you crawl towards him. His dick is big, bigger than you’ve ever had before but fuck you want it in every hole of your body. He tilts your chin up to look him in the eyes as he guides one of your hands to it.

“Don’t be nervous baby, you can take it.” Fuck yeah you can take it. His eyes close as you lick from the base to the tip. Pumping it with hard and firm strokes. Flashing him an innocent look you take as much of him as you can in your mouth.

“Fuckin’ warn a guy next time.” He groans as his hand comes to rest on the back of your head.

Pushing you as far as you can go on his cock. Strings of mumbled praises fall from his lips as you suck him off. Drool drips down your chin as you choke on his dick.

“Feels so good, so warm. Doin’ such a good job.” He pushes on your head and you make a noise as you gag slightly.

He looks down, worried he’s gone too far but there’s nothing but lust in your eyes. It takes all his willpower to pull out of your perfect mouth.

“Don’t wanna finish just yet.” He says, noticing the disappointed look on your face.

He manhandles your body back to all fours. He rips a condom from his wallet and puts it on with ease. Lot’s of practice you guess. He gets on the bed, admiring the view as he spits on his hand.

He strokes his cock for a few moments before sliding it in. He goes torturously slow but you’re thankful as it feels overwhelming. He’s so big and feels so fucking amazing.

“Oh god Joel,” You claw at the sheets as your lower half sinks down. Leaving you in a perfect arch. He grabs your hips and slides out, groaning at the sight of your cunt gripping him. Begging him not to leave.

“Fuck!” You cry as he slams his hips back in. His pace getting quicker the more noises you make. It’s egging him on, encouraging him to fuck you till you cry.

“So pretty.” Joel says smugly as he pounds into you.

He’s punching the breath out of you, filling you up with his cock. He grunts as he leans over you, one hand pushing your head into the pillows as he gets into a new position, one that makes his cock sink even deeper into you.

Your cries and moans are muffled by the pillow but it doesn’t matter. The feeling of being pinned down makes you want more. Not to mention the sinful sounds coming from Joel. He lets go of your head and you prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Need-fuck.” You reach back to grab his hand. He grunts in response as he refuses to let up his pace.

“Wanna ride you. J-Joel please!” you moan desperately.

While Joel is enjoying reducing you to a puddle, he can’t say no to that. You whine as he pulls out, already missing the feeling of his cock. He gently moves you to the side so he can lay down and helps you straddle him. Your legs feel shaky as you rest your hands on his chest.

“This view is even better than before.” He grins as he reaches up to squeeze your boobs.

“Can’t wait to watch these bounce.” He mumbles to himself. You slowly slide down on him.

His breath catches in his throat as you squeeze his cock. Using his chest as leverage you start to move up and down until you’ve found a good pace. Joel is mesmerized by everything.

The way his cock disappears as you slide down, the way your lips part with every gasp, the way your tits bounce. He wants this moment tattooed in his brain forever. He reaches up to play with your nipples as you continue to bounce on him. He notices a slight falter in your hips.

“Gettin’ tired?” He asks as he grabs your hips to stop you.

“Little bit,” You admit. Joel smirks as a wicked idea pops into his head.

“Let me take care of you alright?” You nod happily and Joel plants his feet on the bed. You thought he’d flip the two of you but he doesn’t. With all his force he thrusts up into you. Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull as he hits the perfect fucking spot.

“Joel!” You wail as he forces your hips to stay still. He fucks up into you relentlessly. Hitting a spot that makes your legs shake. Loud cries and moans are pulled from your lips as he thrusts up without a break. He want’s you to fucking break apparently.

“Gonna come?” Joel taunts. His fingers are digging into your hips as he nears his end.

“It’s okay baby, go ahead. I got you.” You can’t take it anymore as you fall into his chest. Wailing from pleasure as you come hard around him. Your cunt squeezes him tight.

Not letting him move as he comes from the sensation. For a moment the two of you lay there in silence. Out of breath and completely spent. With all the energy you can muster you prop yourself back up. You smile as you feel his cock pulsing inside of you.

“Need you to get off baby,” Joel mutters.

“Don’t wanna.” He huffs and groans as you sit back on him.

“Too sensitive.” With reluctance you climb off him and collapse on the bed. He rolls over and gently kisses the side of your head.

“Need anything?” He asks as he rubs your back.

You reply in gibberish and Joel laughs. It’s been a while since he’s fucked someone silly. You barely notice he’s left until he comes back with a towel and water. Gently cleaning you up and putting you under the covers. Helping you sip on the water until he’s satisfied.

“Good night baby.” He wraps his arm around your waist as you both drift off to sleep.

If you hadn’t woken up with a dull ache between your legs you would’ve sworn last night was a dream. But it’s all real when you wake up next to Joel. He’s so handsome when he sleeps. You could watch him for hours.

“Mornin’” He opens his eyes and smiles sleepily. His morning voice is to fucking die for.

“Hi,” You stretch your arms and climb out of bed. You stumble for a second and Joel chuckles.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Think that's my fault.” You roll your eyes head out of the room in search of your clothes. Joel watches you walk away with a smirk. As you pick up your clothes you frown at the punch stain.

“What happened?” You turn around to see Joel walk out in sweatpants, putting on a shirt as he walks over to you.

“It’s stupid, I had my 10 year reunion and some asshole threw punch on me.” Joel shakes his head as he grabs his keys.

“Funny, my daughter had her reunion yesterday too. Maybe y’all knew each other.” He says nonchalantly. You laugh

“Maybe.” “Hold on, let me get a jacket before we leave.” Joel disappears back into his bedroom.

You look around his house, at the pictures on the walls and the decorations. You see a photo of a young girl with a graduation gown on and a diploma above the picture. Must be his daughter.

As you get closer you start to recognize the girl. The cap and gown was the same color as yours was when you graduated. Same school. Same year too. Your heart drops as the realization sets in. You know that girl because it’s fucking Courtney. There’s no mistaking that.

You glance up at the diploma and her name is printed in big letters. Fuck fuck fuck.

There’s no way the guy you go home with ends up being her dad. You’d never seen her parents before so it’s not like you would have known. Joel didn’t tell you his last name either but even if he did Miller is an incredibly common name.

“Sorry for takin’ so long, ready?” Joel asks. You turn around and try to shake the shock from your face.

“Yeah,” Your brain runs a mile a minute as Joel helps you into his car.

It’s not like you’ve really done anything wrong. He’s an adult, you’re an adult. Everything was fully consensual and as much as you hate to admit it Joel was the best guy you’ve been with in a while.

And as sick as it sounds, you can’t help but feel a little smug. Even if Courtney never found out, you knew that you fucked her dad. Joel pulls up next to your car and you thank him for the night.

“I know this ain’t exactly typical, but I was wonderin’ if you wanted to go to dinner sometime. I had a real nice time with you.”

You think for a moment. Would it be right to go out with Joel knowing who he is? Would he get mad if he found out you did know his daughter? He makes you happy. He’s hot and a gentleman. Could you deny yourself the chance over a girl who hated your guts?

“You know Joel, I’d love to go to dinner.” He smiles as he hands you his phone to put in your number.

He bids you goodbye and waits for you to get in your car before driving off. Not even a few moments later you get a text from him.

Friday at 7? I know this great Italian place.

Sounds perfect. See you then :)

;)

This might become the messiest thing in your life, but for Joel you know it’s going to be worth it.

—-

part 2

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #wed!joel

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levshany · 6 months

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Tandem, this is an AU in which the Collector possesses Philip, and there are a lot of things happening afterwards. but now we’ll just retell how it basically started

@angstyhikka drew a couple of arts and helped me with coloring

This is an alternative development of events after the ending of the fanfic “At The Dawn of The Light” (it's not finished yet, but there is already an AU from the ending, yes). The idea belongs to @lasymit, and I (Lev) picked it up :3

Before King's Tide, all events take place according to canon. And then the following changes occur: the witches capture Philip and lock him in a cave in the Titan's skull. The draining spell is stopped without the help of the Collector, but he himself is not found. His mirror remains lying at the bottom of the pit.

For 10 years, Philip was under a sleeping spell. Everything would be fine, but when the Hexside squad wakes up Philip to make him help them with one super important problem, not only does he become mischievous but he also has problems in his head now. Luz and the team think that Philip is manipulating them (you can't blame them for this, Philip is Philip, even with a leaky memory and a leaking roof, he manages to be such an asshole), and therefore they torture him to force him to cooperate with them.

While Philip was sleeping, a cozy corner appeared in his head, in which there was nothing but a green hill, a small house and an apple tree. There, Philip, in his child form, lives with Caleb, who is a figment of his sick mind. During his 10 years in this mindscape, Philip convinced himself that this was reality. And the Boiling Isles, the cave and the witches who torture him are an endless nightmare. Because, on the Boiling Isles, he sometimes remembers that he killed his brother. But this simply cannot be reality.

At some point, Luz and Hunter realize that Philip is not pretending that he is seriously ill and no matter how much he denies it, he needs help, and they soften towards him somewhat. Although both have rather mixed feelings towards their dementia grandpa.

Even in the moments when Philip remembers himself fully enough, his attitude towards the Boiling Isles, Luz, Hunter and even his own mission has changed greatly in any case. He no longer cares about the destruction of witches and revenge for his brother. Philip is tired. Deadly tired. All he wants to do is sleep. He slept for ten years, and this was perhaps the first time in decades of his life that he felt peace and happiness.

While he is in this state, it happens that he encounter the Collector. This is a difficult meeting for both of them, but it all ends with the forgiveness of all grievances. They both don't want to lose each other now. The collector is still locked in the disk, but Philip has the opportunity to let his friend into his subconscious. Seeing the deplorable state of Philip's mind, he decides that he must help - after all, Philip is still his only friend. Collie asks Philip not to go to "sleep" forever, but Philip replies that he has no joy in waking up here. All he dreams of is never returning to the world of the Boiling Islands. The collector, frightened that his only friend is about to leave him, possesses Philip and promises him that he will get them both out of this nightmare.

This is how Tandem's story begins

a huge amount of detail has been omitted to avoid spoilers for "The Dawn". if you wanna learn more go check the fanfic *wink wink*

#by the way their name is Colibri #toh #the owl house #toh tandem au #phillip wittebane #toh phillip #toh collector #collector possess #toh colibri #toh tandem #my comic #my art

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loving-family-poll · 3 months

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Ultimate Incest Tournament - Semifinals

Propaganda under the cut:

Sam/Dean:

I'm sorry but they have it all. children of metaphorical incest just continuing the cycle in any way they can. they are brothers and mother + son and wives and each other's scorned lovers and life partners they've had multiple infidelity arcs they are sexually psychopathic together they have forsook life and morality and the earth itself for each other and just love each other so much . They are literally in a heaven of their own making together for eternity, incestuously. Come on!!! Blueprint!!!!! It's not gay if he's your brother!!!!!

dean did stuff to sam's dead body in ahbl. i just know it

Messed-up, isolated sibs with all the daddy and abandonment issues. Their lives are so claustrophobic with the brothers no more than five feet apart in the car, a motel room, or standing next to civilians (face it, they are frigging magnets). Can't leave out that they are always touching each other to check for wounds which is a huge PLUS for any shipper.

Sam and Dean ARE literally the blowjob brothers. They walk into a situation and everyone goes well well well if it isn't the blowjob brothers....... And they say. Yep. That's us. And then they fix the situation with their epic love story

THE classic, iconic, show shopping, never done before etc. etc. incest ship. It changed fandom and it changed the world

Dave/Rose:

Daverose blondetwin sweep because they were codependent without ever meeting from growing up seeing each other in their dreams

What does it mean to be an abused teenage boy growing up alone and seeing a girl in your dreams every night who is also your best friend. and when you finally meet her you go on a suicide mission together even though nobody was asking you to die with her. and then you are the only two human beings left in the recognizable universe on a cold meteor surrounded by aliens but you’re glad it’s with her. and when you finally touch the girl from your childhood dreams she looks exactly like you. because she’s your sister

I don't have words for how good these snarky assholes are together. DaveRose is brain chemistry changing. They both put up so many fronts, and engage in so much snarky wordplay, and are constantly trying to get under each other's facade. They play off each other so well, witty and sharp, I need them to be together always

We all die & we all die alone are the two cold truths of the universe but dave and rose broke both simultaneously by ascending to godhood together

Their twincest wins because it is just so confusingly tragic? profound? dave leaving rose behind in a doomed world, dave following her to the bomb. they are both so closed & cut off & curt its hard to imagine the depth of these things. but that is their love language: giving up their lives for each other over and over, in a confusing and fumbling and heartfelt love song. i can’t say i love you but i know we’ll die together anyway. because we’re made of the exact same stuff. i’ll find you again at the last moment. that’s love.

THEY DIED TOGETHER, YOUR HONOR

Confirmed canon by the author, (something happened) between them. Parallels of dying by each other's sides in EVERY timeline. They are THE womb-to-tomb. There is nothing platonic about winking at your brother while talking about crushes, that shit is incestuous. Seer/Knight archetype. They will die protecting each other.

do you realize love someone if you don’t follow them on a suicide mission into the gaping maw of a literal fucking sun after they knock you out and psychoanalyze you in your dreams? the blueprint of the “ethereal androgynous blonde boygirl twins” trope. witch/knight dynamics. they find each other to die together in every timeline no matter what (but they’re still emotionally constipated teenagers who bicker and make fun of each other in pesterchum). kids with grown-up powers. perfect little freaks of nature. what if we looked exactly like each other’s eyes

#tournament polls #tumblr polls #incest poll #wincest #samdean #spn #daverose #dersecest #homestuck #semifinals #tw incest

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calisources · 6 months

Text

ROYAL, FANTASY ROMANCE AND SPICE. all these quotes and sentences are taken from different sources as well some made by myself. change pronouns and places and names as you see fit. some of these are heavy with tension or sexual intention, though nothing too graphic, but you are warned some of these are full of spice and forbidden romance. if you have more suggestions, send them to me and i will add them to this post.

ACTIONS AND SCENARIOS. add +reverse to change the roles.

(royal ball): our muses dance at a royal ball.

(captive in the tower): sender is held captive and receiver helps save them.

(arranged marriage): our muses are thrown together into an arranged marriage.

(childhood betrothal): arranged to wed since being children, our muses finally meet days before the wedding.

(ward): send is a ward at the receiver's house/home.

(stolen kiss): sender kisses receiver before a battle, away from prying eyes.

(mystery knight): sender is unknown at court and receiver wants to know them further.

(secrets): our muses are together in a secret relationship as their families wouldn’t approve.

(brother’s keeper): sender is receiver’s brother's best friend. Sender has been harboring a crush since they met.

(taken): sender is taken prisoner by receiver on their ship at sea after a shipwreck.

(horse ride): there is only one horse trope, our muses have to ride together.

(guard): sender is made receiver’s guard and they have to travel/spend time together.

(no one is here to help): receiver is taken to sender as their captive.

(aftermath): after a battle/war, sender and receiver reunite thinking the other was dead.

(my prince): sender falls for receiver, who is the realm’s prince/princess.

(tourney): sender gives the receiver their favor during a tournament.

(piece of me): sender ties a piece of cloth on receiver’s hand to wrap around a wound.

(you left): sender left receiver years ago, now reunited, receiver is upset.

(last kiss): unsure if they will see each other again, sender kisses the receiver before distracting enemies so receiver can escape.

(under my protection): sender proclaims himself receiver’s protector while receiver is traveling/captive.

(starcrossed): our muses find out they have to marry other people and they reunite at night.

(we were in love once): our muses were together in a relationship in their youth and now see each other after years.

(my castle is yours): sender pledges their castle as a fortress to keep the receiver safe.

(gentle touch): sender heals the receiver of their wounds and inevitably grows close.

(magic): receiver is a being of magical properties and sender finds themselves enthralled by them.

(my paramour): receiver becomes sender’s mistress.

(the bane of my existence): our muses never got along and yet, they harbor feelings for one another after a heated argument.

(maze): our muses lose their guards in a maze and they find each other alone.

(it was always you): our muses are childhood friends about to get married.

(to make peace): from opposite houses, our muses are now married to bring peace.

(corner): behind a corner of the great hall, sender corners receiver after seeing them dance with someone else.

(advisor): receiver works as an advisor for sender, despite objection around court.

(rags to riches): receiver is a bastard now made legitimate and people around the realm came to meet them. Sender is one of them.

(at your service): receiver is a lady in waiting/personal guard to sender’s sibling and a romance develops.

(saved): sender is saved by receiver, who is a healer/witch.

SENTENCES AND QUOTES:

“You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.”

“He didn't marry you to become king. He became king because he wanted to marry you.”

“Little by little, the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him.”

“I want you—but I don’t want this."

“Rule with the heart of a servant. Serve with the heart of a king.”

“There’s a fine line between gossip and history, when one is talking about kings.”

“I will not share you."

“Well, princess, let’s see what you’re made of.”

“She added the flowers and incense to help mask your own scent.”

“Your eyes betray you. Your body even responds to mine no matter that you’re angry. You want me.”

“He is my ruin. My complete and utter devastation.”

“Just how long have you been sticking it to the girl who’s like a little sister to us?”

“There’s a certain sort of beauty in submission.”

“My story hasn’t been written yet, but I know it begins with you.”

“You will love this man. Do you understand? You will love him, serve him, and obey him in all things. This is your duty to me and to France. Am I clear?’

“She didn’t need a man. She wanted one.”

“Your wish is my command, my queen.”

“It is legal because I wish it.”

“Rejection is an opportunity for your selection.”

“She's magic, Cassandra. A single flower blooming in an endless desert.”

“Do you really want to put yourself through this? Is loving me really enough to endure everything you have to just to be with me?"

“Make no mistake.You are under my protection now, and I protect what is mine.”

“But perhaps, when you sleep, you will dream of me."

“I cannot come with you, my prince.”

“This woman was consuming him, bit by bit.”

“Call him. Claim him. Speak his Name. Make him thine before all others.”

“You are the harbor of my soul’s journeying.”

“We love what we love. We don’t need to justify it to anyone… not even to ourselves.”

“To love something despite. To know the flaws and love them too. That is rare and pure and perfect.”

“The heart is neither given nor stolen. The heart surrenders.”

“Give yourself to me.”

“I ask for so little. Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your man to serve.”

“I married you to stop the bloodshed, and you keep killing. When will it be enough- when?”

“Marriage is a marriage- love or arranged. Both require the same level of commitment.”

“We are trapped by convention and must marry another.”

“We had both accepted the unwritten rule of arranged marriage: love, if it arrived at all, would bloom with time.”

“Be with me. Want me. Stay with me.I don’t know how to be without you.”

“We were doomed from the start. A lost cause. A losing battle.”

“Mr. Larsen, if you make me cry at my own coronation ball, I’ll never forgive you.”

“You are my very own forbidden fruit.”

“I’m scared, but I’d rather have one real day with you than a lifetime of misguided security.”

“And you, are mine.”

“You think a courtship and a hunt are two separate things. They are not.”

“I will share him with you, I cannot lose him.”

“Why must you resist me so dearly? When you tremble under my touch?”

“You must be made of magic itself. Your touch is warm.”

“One day, I will be able to leave you.”

“Did he touch you? Did you enjoy the way he held you across the room?”

"I will be your husband. I will take a solemn vow to protect you until death do us part. Do you understand what that means?"

“And why, pray tell, should I make it easy?'

"You are the bane of my existence--and the object of all of my desires. Night and day I dream of you."

"I did not ask for this--to be plagued by these feelings."

“I have loved you at every dance, on every walk, and every time we've been together. You must feel it in your heart, because I do."

“Because,by the time I’m done, prayer is the only thing that is going to save you.”

“Suppose I told everyone that I had seduced you.”

“You’re not planning to refuse me, are you?”

'Tell me if I do anything you don't like.”

“Say you do not care for me. Tell me you feel nothing and I will walk away.”

“I am a gentleman. My father raised me to act with honor, but that honor is hanging by a thread that grows more precarious with every moment I spend in your presence.”

“If I wed your sister, it will bind me and you together for eternity, and I will spend every day of my marriage wanting you, dreaming of you, dreading the day when my last thread of honor finally snaps.”

“I have never met anyone like you. It is maddening, how much you consume my very being.”

“That scent. It has remained imprinted on my mind ever since that night of the conservatory ball on that terrace. Lilies.”

“I desire you. I burn for you. I can't sleep at night because I want you."

“You’re the center of a star, and the force of gravity keeps pulling me closer, and I don’t give a damn that I’m about to be incinerated.“

“Whatever bad thing happened to you, it hasn’t made you less beautiful. There’s beauty in darkness, too.”

“I belong to you. Only you…I’ll always be yours. No matter what.”

#rp meme #sentences memes #meme call #roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #roleplay meme

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sundrop-writes · 30 days

Text

Careful - Chapter Four

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter Four: Last Hope

It’s just a spark but it’s enough to keep me going.

Summary:

The entire axis of your world is shifting.

Spencer is not the man you left alone all those years ago, and you don't know how to react to him being such a perfect, caring father. You also don't know how to react to the potential that you could be killed by someone who has already gutted five other women.

Luckily, Spencer is there to protect you. Another thing you don't fully know how to react to - but somehow, you just go with it.

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. (Slight) Fluff and Angst.

Word Count: 8,800

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Detailed warnings and author's notes below.

Warnings: Again, basic warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder/killing, the reader character is the next target of a serial killer; mentions of the reader wearing a sexy Halloween costume (during a flashback); mentions of gender roles - the reader doesn’t raise Sebastian with strict gender roles (and Spencer appreciates this); mentions of the reader giving birth (not graphic descriptions); some emotional tension between Spencer and the reader; angst because Spencer is upset about missing out on so much of Sebastian’s life; passing mention of abortion; the reader is threatened (in a graphic way) and called whore in a derogatory manner by the UnSub; Spencer is also threatened in a very graphic way by the UnSub; specific threats of stabbing and rape (toward the reader); passing mention of poop (because come on, this is a little kid, and kids talk about their poop a lot); I believe that’s it for this chapter.

A/N: So, this chapter starts off with a flashback rather than ending with one, because flashbacks are important to how information is revealed to the audience, and I think it works here. Idk what else to say about this chapter - I think it's a nice transition into the climax. I hope you guys enjoy it!!

...

Halloween. It was always a time when Spencer thrived the most - and he thrived even more when spending it with you.

It was your second Halloween together as a couple, and Spencer loved that you enjoyed celebrating the holiday just as much as he did. You loved dressing up, you loved all of the spooky lore behind Halloween. And of course, you loved listening to all of the real life facts he had to tell you about Halloween’s history, and things like vampires, werewolves, zombies, and all of the Halloween traditions and how they evolved over time.

You didn’t think before that learning about the origins of Halloween could make it even more fun, but Spencer somehow made it into the most exciting educational documentary of your life.

This year, you had invited him to a house party that one of your work friends was hosting. It would be some light drinking, finger food, dancing to cheesy Halloween songs, and most likely sitting around and talking while roasting marshmallows around your friend’s backyard fire pit. It wouldn’t be anything big, but you expected it to be a really fun night.

You showed up to Spencer’s place wearing a straight off the rack, generic ‘sexy witch’ costume. It consisted of a very wide brimmed pointy hat, dark make-up, and a tight corset drawing attention to your curves, as well as a short tulle skirt, flared sleeves, and black fishnets and black boots to top off the look. He found you irresistible and almost wanted to stay at home. But he was looking forward to the party; he was excited to meet your friends and he knew that the occasion meant a lot to you.

He told you that he was planning on going as a young Ernest Hemmingway, and as much as you adored it, because it was a very Spencer thing to do - you knew that it was very unlikely that anybody else at the party would be able to identify his costume on sight, and that would probably disappoint him. He would be standing proudly, asking people to guess who he was, and they would come up blank because they weren’t in the same mindset as him.

So you advised him of this, and encouraged him to steer his costume in a different direction. (And Spencer - trusting any advice you gave, simply let you lead him.)

You took the late 1800s style clothing he had picked out for the occasion, and some of the makeup you had brought in your bag for potential touch-ups - and you convinced him to let you dress him up as a sexy vampire who had been turned in the late 1800s.

You did his makeup - with some dark eyeliner, that he winced at the entire time, some dark eyeshadow, and some red lipstick smudged around his mouth to appear as though it were blood he had just siphoned from his latest victim. And the entire time you worked, he came up with an elaborate name and backstory for his vampire character. You delighted in listening to him tell you all about Frederic Henry - named after a Hemmingway character. A man who was shot in the military and assumed dead, but who was saved in the trenches of World War I by a vampire’s bite, and then lived on.

You encouraged him to wear his shirt unbuttoned quite a bit, creating a deep V down to his chest that he wouldn’t have worn any other time. Thinking about his story, you even used the eyeliner to create the scar of a bullet wound on his chest, slightly hidden by his shirt - something to hint at Frederic’s tragic past.

(Both you and Spencer got way too into it, but you were having fun.)

You were running a bit late by the time you left Spencer’s apartment, but it was a casual house party, and you knew that nobody was going to call you out for being ‘late’.

You parked a few blocks away, not wanting to drive through the neighborhood with so many kids out and about on foot. It was still early in the evening, and many kids were still out, knocking on doors, getting their candy.

“They’re so cute, aren’t they?” You remarked as the two of you walked down the sidewalk, hand in hand with Spencer as you made your way toward the party among a sea of Trick or Treaters.

“Kids in costumes? Or just kids in general?” Spencer replied with a chuckle, trying to clarify what you had said.

(There was a hopeful edge in his voice, a daring longing in his eyes as he looked at the parents helping their children from house to house. Something deep inside of him that hoped the two of you could have your place here a few years from now.)

“Kids in general are cute.” You shrugged. “But kids in their little costumes are so much cuter.”

Spencer’s insides fluttered - seeing you light up with joy just talking about children, knowing that it might be in your future. Knowing that it might be a part of his future with you.

“If we had a baby, would you wanna dress him up for Halloween?” Spencer asked.

You wanted to fixate on the ‘if’ - to tell him that you thought it was something more certain in your future, with the way things were going. That you thought he would make an amazing father. That you wanted it to be a ‘when’.

Instead, you chose a different part of his statement to pick at.

“You sound awfully certain that our kid would be a boy.” You chuckled. “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who would be disappointed by having a girl.”

That would be a dealbreaker for you. As amazing as Spencer was - he had to be just as good of a father to a daughter as he would be to a son in order to stay in the picture.

“Goodness, no.” Spencer replied, shaking his head.

He held back. He didn’t tell you that he had spent far too much time - hours on the plane rides back home, nights when he couldn’t sleep - thinking about his future with you. He imagined three kids. An oldest boy, and two girls, about a year or two apart each. A golden retriever, a house - he had even picked out which district he wanted to live in based on schools in the area and lowest crime rates.

He knew it was stupid, but he had already been squirreling away money for a downpayment on that house. When you were ready, he wanted to be able to give you everything you could ever ask for. He had way too much time to fantasize, and he didn’t want to admit that to you now.

“Just - it slipped out.” He chuckled. “I would be thrilled if we had a little girl. But - I pictured us having a boy.”

In his mind’s eye, his daughter was so much like you. And if that came to pass, then he would be the luckiest man on earth.

“You did?” You grinned at him, a distinct light in your eye.

Spencer found his chest untightening as he breathed in relief.

“Well, if he’s half as cute as you,” You said, moving a hand over to pinch one of his cheeks, which made him smile and let out a huff, half forming into a laugh. “Then I definitely wanna dress him up in a Halloween costume. Especially while he’s still little and cute and can’t argue about what I wanna dress him up as. Before he starts talking and wants to be that fuzzy guy from Star Wars.”

“You mean Chewbacca?” Spencer asked, wondering which one you were talking about.

“Yeah!” You said. “The big ugly one. The little teddy bear guys are cute, but the big one is kind of creepy.”

“We had an all-day Star Wars marathon, and you didn’t tell me that you thought Chewbacca was creepy?” Spencer chuckled, his mind now distancing from the subject of the two of you having kids.

“Yeah, because you were there to protect me!” You replied, your voice still filled with lightness and laughter. “And I didn’t even really realize it until after. I had this weird nightmare-”

“You had nightmares about Chewbacca?”

“One nightmare! It was only one!”

The subject of children was forgotten, then.

Your laughter echoed off into the night, and you didn’t think much of the conversation.

Spencer remarked on it as a precious memory - as a sign that his savings account was an insurance policy for his future, not a fool’s errand. After the break-up, he thought about it over and over - he wondered where he had gone so wrong, how he had lost you. If you had felt so secure in your future together - how had he lost you?

…

Spencer wasn’t sure how it was possible, but he was growing more and more love for Sebastian with each passing moment.

After he got off the phone with Derek, he went back into the house to be mobbed by Sebastian. Having the boy run into his arms with so much excitement - it made him feel more heroic than anything he had done with the BAU for the past years of his life. So often, when he carted off a killer to jail or when he saw a victim returned to the arms of their family, he couldn’t feel the relief or the calm that JJ or Gideon spoke of. He just felt so empty.

But having Sebastian hug him tight and ramble in his ear with excitement about all his plans for their afternoon - it made his chest swell with a grand importance that he had only gotten a taste of when he was with you. When he was making you happy. It felt like a moment that his whole life was leading up to.

You asked Spencer if it was okay for you to go back to your office and get some work done while he occupied Sebastian, and he could think of nothing he wanted more - except maybe for you to join him, and to spend some true quality time with him and his son. But he hoped that would come later. And this in itself was progress - you trusting him to play with Sebastian, to spend time alone with him while you got your work done.

Sebastian showed Spencer every single one of his toy dinosaurs, and they played with those for quite a while. They also had a tea party with some large bears and dolls present - and Spencer was delighted by the fact that you didn’t buy him gender specific toys. Knowing that this opened up different areas of play and imagination, and allowed for his development to be nurtured by gentleness and caring that young boys didn’t often get in a society so rigid about gender roles.

Spencer really couldn’t imagine a better boy. You had raised such a beautiful, smart son. Someone who was polite, so caring, and gentle.

Spencer was practically swollen with love, overwhelmed at getting to spend time with his son.

His heart felt as though it might burst out of his chest and he knew that he looked fitful, actively holding back overwhelmed tears while Sebastian poured the imaginary tea for each member sitting around the small plastic table and they clinked their tiny plastic cups together in a toast.

Then, Sebastian wanted to show Spencer a favorite movie of his. He rushed downstairs to put it on the TV, and as he was picking it out among the DVDs, he became distracted by something at the top of the shelf beside the TV.

“My Halloween basket!” Sebastian said, pointing to an orange basket at the top of the shelf - one that did appear as though it was for Halloween, with a jack-o-lantern’s face painted on the front of it.

“Mommy says treats are for after dinner. But… can we have one now?” The boy looked hopefully toward Spencer, knowing that he would be able to reach the basket and bring it down toward him.

Spencer didn’t want to undermine your rules. You had done so well raising Sebastian this far, so you were clearly doing everything right.

He crouched down to the boy’s level.

“We should go ask your Mommy if it’s okay to have one.” He told Sebastian, who nodded, and then ran off toward your office with that thunderous urgency in his steps.

He heard a distant ‘Mommy!’ - and a bang that could have been Sebastian’s version of a knock or him downright smacking the office door until it opened. But then he heard your voice murmuring and what must have been a frustrated sigh.

Spencer felt slightly bad that he had sent Sebastian to interrupt your work, especially over something so small. But he didn’t want to lose progress with you and have you reaming him out for giving your son sugar without your permission.

You soon came into the room and went straight for the candy bucket, lifting it off the shelf and bringing it down to Sebastian’s level so that he could choose one.

“I know it seems cruel. But I didn’t want him eating it all on Halloween and puking, so he’s allowed to have one a day, usually as a treat after dinner.” You explained, clearly wanted to lay out your reasoning for Spencer.

“No, no, it’s not cruel.” Spencer replied quickly. “It’s a good idea. Regulating his intake of sugar while not completely restricting it as something sacred or off-limits. It’s a good call.”

Sebastian picked out a small packet of M&Ms, and then you went to lift the bucket away, and he spoke up.

“Can I pick one for my friend Spencer, too?” He asked.

“Yeah, go ahead.” You nodded, and then you added on: “Spencer’s favorite is Snickers.”

Of course, Spencer was floored that you remembered this.

Sebastian picked out a mini Snickers and then excitedly thrust it in Spencer’s direction.

“Aw, thanks buddy!” Spencer said, eagerly taking it with a grin, even reaching out to give him a high five while he smiled up at Spencer in return.

(He was too busy looking at Sebastian with those stars in his eyes to notice the way you were watching the pair - watching all of your dreams unfold before you with an odd mixture of bitterness and affection swelling up inside of you.)

Sebastian moved on to picking out the movie and you went to walk out of the room again, seemingly to get back to work, but Spencer stopped you. Something else was on his mind.

“Y/N.” He called your name gently, and you turned back to him, your arms crossed stiffly.

He was just glad that you didn’t seem so angry at him using your name this time.

“Do - do you have any pictures of Sebastian in his Halloween costume?” He asked meekly, afraid that you would stamp out this request with more anger and defensiveness.

“Why?” You gaped, seeming very confused that he would even ask this.

“I - I just wanted to see.” Spencer replied.

‘Because I missed out on so much of him.’ He hesitated to say. ‘I know it’s impossible, but I want those years back.’

The deep sadness lingering in Spencer’s eyes caused your stomach to clench.

He had really changed. This wasn’t the same man who had been standing in the apartment that night. This wasn’t the same person who had been so callous and stubborn - the same person that you felt you needed to protect your unborn child from.

Maybe this was the man you had fallen in love with, somehow rescued from the clutches of that person you didn’t know who had mocked you while wearing Spencer’s face.

“Gimme a minute.” You told him. And then you leaned in close before you whispered something else. “And you should let him see you eat the Snickers, otherwise he’s gonna be insulted.”

Spencer smiled at this.

Sebastian waved him over then, and he asked which DVD Spencer would rather watch. Spencer ate the Snickers and thanked Sebastian for sharing his treats once again while the boy went through a very detailed explanation of the plot of the films so Spencer would have an informed choice. And then Spencer picked, and Sebastian moved to put the movie into the DVD player.

This was when you came back with a thick envelope filled with pictures and handed them over to Spencer.

“I had these printed a while ago.” You explained. “I was planning on making a scrapbook for my mom, for mother’s day. It’s… basically every important moment in Sebastian’s life.”

“That’s my baby picture!” Sebastian said excitedly, looking over at the pictures in Spencer’s lap. “That’s when I was a baby, after I was born. I was one day old. Mommy said that everyone used to be one day old at some point, but that just sounds weird!”

Spencer’s throat clenched up with tears, and this clashed with the laughter he experienced from Sebastian’s comments.

But as he looked through the pictures, he had a much harder time holding back his tears.

Seeing all of the pictures, all of those moments - it slowly broke him.

The first picture was one of Sebastian wrapped in a very clinical swaddling blanket when he was still so new and wrinkly, only hours after his birth. Spencer could imagine how small Sebastian would have been in his arms. The tiny little newborn sounds he would have made. Spencer wished that he could have held your hand through the birth, that he could have been there with both of you in the hospital during those first few days of his life.

Then, a picture of you holding Sebastian in his nursery when you had brought him home from the hospital - a photo that was most likely taken by your mom. You had such a big, bright smile on your face. You looked so perfect with him in your arms. You were such a good mother.

There were pictures of him when he was more alert - his big, curious eyes looking at the world for the first time; what appeared to be his first picnic out at the park when he was laying on his back on a soft blanket, taking in the world for the first time. Spencer could imagine how sweet his baby laughter would be - what it would have been like blowing raspberries on his soft belly and kissing you under the warm sun.

He continued flipping through the photos - another one of what must have been his first Halloween. He was dressed up as a chubby round Jack-o-Lantern with his little fist in his mouth, drooling around it while your mother held him for the picture.

And then - pictures of him walking experimentally while you held him by both of his hands; him sitting in front of a Christmas tree, opening an exciting Christmas toy that made him beam with a big smile.

Pictures of important memories all throughout his life, all the way up until recently. This past Halloween, he had dressed up as Luke Skywalker.

He liked Star Wars.

“Um, can I use your bathroom?” Spencer choked out.

He knew that he was crying very blatantly now.

His chest was caving in as all of it truly hit him - how much of his son’s life he had missed. He didn’t wait for you to direct him because he knew that he had passed the bathroom coming down the hall. He abandoned the photos in the middle of the coffee table, haste to escape.

Sebastian looked at him with sad eyes as he stormed out of the room.

“Why is my friend Spencer sad?” He asked in a small voice, looking up at you. “He doesn’t like my pictures?”

“No, honey, your pictures are beautiful.” You assured him, kneeling down by the table and gathering up the pictures. “It’s complicated…” You let out a huff, not knowing how to explain it to him. Not even knowing where to start. “It’s grown-up stuff, okay? Just - just watch your movie.”

You stacked the photos back into the envelope, and you hoped that Sebastian wouldn’t follow you as you raced down the hall toward Spencer. You weren’t surprised to find the bathroom door closed.

“Spence,” You called out his name as you knocked gently on the bathroom door.

That gutted him even more. Spence.

Another harsh reminder of the life he had lost.

“I’m sorry.” He called back, his voice audibly drenched in tears.

Your throat tightened up.

This began to shift your entire axis. The man you had left standing alone that night - you thought he was a man who would have never cared about your son. Someone who would have asked you to get an abortion or distanced himself from the pregnancy as much as possible.

But this man - this felt like the Spencer you knew, the one you fell in love with.

He cared so much.

This was someone who could fit into your life, someone who could help raise your son.

And tugging right at your heart, something you wanted to deny - this was a man you wanted to be your husband, as well as the father of your child.

“Spencer, please-”

Spencer opened the door then, and upon instinct, you drew back, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. Unconsciously, you were protecting yourself.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized again. “Did I scare him? I didn’t mean to.” He asked, looking behind your shoulder as if waiting for Sebastian to appear.

There it was again - prioritizing your son above all else. Worry for him.

Something you wouldn’t have expected. Something that forced you to shift your whole perspective.

“He’s fine.” You told him. “He - he probably just wants you to watch the movie with him.” You said, entirely honest, motioning toward the living room - where the sound of Sebastian’s cartoon movie could be heard playing from the television.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” Spencer noted, reaching for some toilet paper to wipe his eyes with.

You squeezed your hands tighter around your arms, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. You wanted to wipe those tears away yourself. Spencer’s keen eye went right to this movement, and you felt so caught.

“I should go start dinner.” You said, eager for an excuse to escape the situation.

You whisked down the hall before Spencer could say anything else, and before his mind could linger too much on it - on you - his phone rang again.

It was a number he didn’t recognize, but he had to guess that it was one of the phones from the local police station - someone from the team calling with an update about the case.

“Reid here.” He answered, deeply hoping that he didn’t sound too tearful over the phone.

“Do you like pretending, Doctor Reid?”

That certainly wasn’t a voice he recognized.

“Excuse me?” Spencer squeaked back, having no clue what this meant.

“Do you like playing house, Doctor Reid?”

The person on the other end posed a slightly different question. The voice was sharp and certain, completely devoid of genuine emotion. It caused a chill down Spencer’s spine, and he knew, somehow-

The UnSub had gotten a hold of his phone number, and felt the need to taunt him by getting in contact with him.

“Unlike you, I’m not playing.” Spencer growled in return, already having the profile in his pocket. “I don’t need to play house to fulfill some God complex. I fully intend to spend the rest of my life being there for my son, raising him. And as long as I am here, in this house, no harm will come to my son or the woman who raised him.”

“Hmm…” The man seemed entirely bored with Spencer’s words. “The woman who raised him. Such a funny way to talk about that whore you supposedly once loved. But she did such a good job raising the boy, didn’t she? Seems like she didn’t even need you in the picture, did she? Such a sweet little thing… anybody could just waltz right into that house, slit her throat and take him. He’s smart enough to do well on his own now.”

Spencer knew that it was a tactic intended to get to him, and he shouldn’t have let it emotionally affect him as much as it did - but fuck, it got to him.

“Don’t talk about her that way.” He growled into the phone. “Don’t talk about them, that way, I swear to god, I’ll-”

“You’ll do what, Doctor Reid?” The man cut him off, clearly mocking him. Clearly in disbelief that Spencer could ever truly be violent in response to his family being threatened.

Spencer choked on a breath, trying to compose himself.

“Now, now. Simmer now.” The man cooed, still mocking, entirely condescending. “And don’t you worry, Doctor. Every whore gets her time to be an angel. I’m sure that she’s going to look so beautiful when she’s moaning and writhing in pain while my knife plunges into her guts. Don’t worry, Daddy - I’ll treat her as gently as I can.”

Spencer sucked in a breath, preparing to yell at the man, but then - the line went dead with a sharp ‘click’. Spencer pulled back his phone and looked at the display - he memorized the number so that he could give it to Garcia later, and then, he called JJ.

“Reid, hey.”

She sounded worried.

Any rage pumping through him that the unknown man had triggered in him melted away, and he immediately wondered why JJ had taken on that sad, sullen tone.

Before he could ask, she spoke up again.

“We… were just wondering if we should call you.”

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“The UnSub knows you’re in the house.” She announced, ripping the band-aid off all at once.

Spencer wondered again how this was possible. But he figured that it was better to exchange information and let the questions naturally arise than to ask the questions himself.

“Yeah, he just called me.” He told JJ. “Clearly with the intention to antagonize me.”

“Wait, hold on.” JJ sighed. In the police station, she walked into the conference room where the team was working and put her phone on speaker for the room before she spoke to Spencer again. “Tell them what you just told me.”

“Someone who I can only assume was the UnSub just called me.” Spencer explained. “It was very clear that he was trying to antagonize me. He - he seemed jealous that I’m here - that I’m trying to take his place as father in the household before he could get here.”

“What makes you say that?” Hotch asked.

“He claimed that I was ‘playing pretend’. He called me Daddy. He mocked my love for Y/N, and taunted me with the idea of him… potentially killing her.” Spencer found those last words particularly difficult to speak, but he knew that the team needed all the information at hand.

“Let me guess, he called you from a blocked number?” Prentiss wondered aloud.

“No, actually.” Spencer replied. “Do you have a pen? I can give you the number and you can have Garcia run it.”

“Fire away.” Prentiss replied.

“503-202-1052.” Spencer told her.

“I’ll call Garcia now.” She said - on the other end, getting up from the table to call Garcia on her cell.

“JJ said you guys have something too?” Spencer asked, still wondering what JJ had meant.

“The scumbag sent us a letter.” Morgan answered. “The envelope was full of pictures. A bunch of pictures of your girl and the kid from weeks back - them at the park, at restaurants, at the grocery store. He’s way farther ahead in his timeline than we thought he was.”

“Yeah, and there’s… something else.” Rossi sighed. “He also included pictures of you and JJ standing on the porch when you arrived at the house. And one of you coming back to the house later, by yourself. In one of them… he crossed your eyes out with a red marker. It’s clear that he sees you as competition. A clear threat to his fantasy.”

“But - how does he know that I’m Sebastian’s real father?” Spencer wondered aloud.

“Perhaps he only sees you as competition because you’re another male encroaching on his territory. Because you’ve spent prolonged time at the house, seemingly to protect her and the child.” Hotch theorized.

“No…” Spencer said, putting the pieces together in his. “On the call, he said: ‘Such a funny way to talk about that whore you supposedly once loved.’” Spencer repeated it perfectly from memory, feeling a pang in his chest at calling you a ‘whore’, even if it wasn’t his own wording. “It was like he knew that me and Y/N dated before and broke up. Like he knows that Sebastian is a result of our previous relationship.”

“That is… strange.” Rossi remarked. “Do you think that Y/N might have mentioned your relationship to a friend, or a neighbor? Maybe… she might have confided in somebody?”

“It’s possible.” Spencer sighed. “But since she’s moved here, she’s surrounded herself with women. A female babysitter, fellow moms as her friend group.” It was something he had noticed in the more recent photos of Sebastian. “Our UnSub is a man - I don’t see her divulging those types of things to him, even if she didn’t know he was a potential threat.”

“Well either way, he knows. And he’s pissed off.” Morgan sighed. “I mean, the wording of this letter… it makes sense why he seems so hostile toward Reid. It’s not just anger toward a random man who’s encroaching on his territory - it’s a personal rage towards someone he feels could actually ruin his chances with Y/N if he’s built up this fantasy of having her in his mind over these weeks.”

Morgan picked up the letter and read some lines from it. “‘I will stab him in the spine, paralyzing him and forcing him to watch as I rape that whore - I will take her as my own while he pleads for mercy. I will show him what happens when weak men abandon their obligations. If Daddy wants to play, I’ll play too.’”

“Is that really what he thinks?” Spencer huffed, unable to hold back his emotions. “That I abandoned my obligations? Does he really think that-?”

“Reid.” Hotch said firmly, cutting off Spencer’s ranting. “Stay calm. What we really need to ask ourselves now is: how does he know so much about you? How does he know so much about your past that even we didn’t know?”

He added this on - seemingly taking offense to the fact that most of the team didn’t know that Spencer had a serious girlfriend in the past. A relationship that had resulted in a child.

Just then, Emily came back into the room.

“Garcia said the phone number goes to a public library on the other side of town.” She announced.

“Morgan, you and Prentiss go to the library - see if anyone there saw the UnSub or if they have any potential security footage of him.” Hotch ordered.

“Reid, see if you can convince Y/N to come into protective custody.” Hotch added on, turning his attention to the man on the phone. “With the UnSub being further along in his timeline than we thought, and seemingly being provoked by your presence, we really need to protect her and her child. Stress that fact to her. We need to keep a close eye on her until we can find a viable suspect.”

“Yes, of course.” Spencer replied, before ending the call.

Spencer splashed some cold water on his face, truly trying to pull himself together before he exited the bathroom.

It truly hit him, then.

This day wasn’t about some soft, sappy reunion with you and his son. This day was about the fact that you had been targeted by a dangerous, deranged killer. And he needed to do everything in his power to protect you from that horrible man.

A fresh, vicious wave of determination went through him - if he had to tear out the man’s throat with his teeth, then he would. He wasn’t going to let even the tiniest amount of harm come to you or his boy. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

He put on a smile, not wanting to potentially scare Sebastian with a frown or his trembling fear over what might happen. He tried his hardest to push all of it out of his mind for now as he walked down the hallway and back into the living room - where a musical cartoonish number was in full swing on the TV.

“You were in the bathroom for a long time!” Sebastian commented brightly. “Did you have to go poop?”

Spencer let out a laugh at this. This almost instantly lifted his mood - the fact that such a young kid didn’t have the sense of embarrassment or social constructs in order to know that it wasn’t really routine to ask someone what they had been doing in the bathroom. He easily found humor in Sebastian’s bluntness.

“Seb, what did we say about asking people about their poop?” You called out from the kitchen, clearly having heard the conversation.

(So this was a habit of his?)

“Sorry!” Sebastian called back. Sebastian then turned back to Spencer. “Your poop is only your business. Unless you have to tell the doctor about your poops.” He assured Spencer, clearly repeating something that his mother had told him.

Spencer nodded. “It’s all good, bud.” He said, smiling at Sebastian. “I’m gonna go talk to your mom, okay?”

“Are you gonna watch the movie with me?” Sebastian asked.

“I promise, I’ll watch whatever you want to later.” Spencer replied.

He made it a promise because he wanted to hold himself to it - he wanted to spend lots of days watching films with his son. And playing games, and teaching him things. He promised himself that there would be lots of time to do these things with Sebastian in the future because nobody would interrupt that for him.

But for now, he had to convince you to agree to protective custody so that the three of you could have the safety and security of a future together.

Sebastian seemed content with this answer and turned back to the TV, and Spencer ventured into the kitchen, where you were preparing dinner.

“Hey, Spence.” You greeted him gently. “I’m assuming that you’re staying for dinner? It��s nothing fancy, just some pasta with cream sauce, and chicken and broccoli.” You explained, gesturing around to the many items you had surrounding you - a pot of boiling water, and cutting boards with different vegetables, and one sequestered off in the corner with cut-up chicken pieces waiting to be put in a frying pan that was still heating up.

“Sounds good.” He easily agreed. “After dinner, we need to pack a bag for Sebastian, and you need to get some stuff together so that we can get you guys into protective custody.” He said, posing it more like a gentle suggestion than a question that you could say no to.

He truly hoped that he wouldn’t have to go into the graphic details as to why you needed the protection - why it was more urgent now. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to resort to telling you about the man who had threatened to go poking around in your insides with a knife while making him watch.

Not surprisingly, you completely ignored what Spencer said.

“Unless you prefer Turtle Mac n Cheese?” You said, instantly deflecting away from the topic, holding up a box of mac n cheese that had some cartoonish characters on it. They were green and looked vaguely like anthropomorphic turtles. Spencer guessed that this was what you were making for Sebastian’s dinner - most likely along with having him eat some broccoli, because you seemed determined for him to at least somewhat eat healthy. “I think that cartoon shapes really give it that extra gourmet flare.”

“Stop that.” Spencer demanded gently, taking the box out of your hands and placing it somewhere else on the counter. You frowned at him. “Stop acting like what’s happening isn’t a big deal. If you’re doing this because you’re frightened-”

“I’m not frightened.” You said, cutting him off. “I just don’t think that the FBI needs to be wasting resources on me when there’s people out there who are actually in danger. Or people who have dead loved ones who need answers.”

“Exactly.” Spencer pressed. He lowered his voice before he spoke his next words, though he knew it was unlikely that Sebastian would hear him over the movie playing on the TV.

“The man who sent you those flowers has already killed five other women.” He stressed, pointing behind you, toward the vase with the white carnations in it. He was surprised that you hadn’t thrown the flowers away after what he and JJ had told you. “Five women’s families are waiting for answers about who killed them. And you could be helping us-”

“I can’t help you, though.” You shrugged. “There are no men in my life. There’s nobody Spencer. There hasn’t been since I broke up with you.” You snapped, giving him a harsh glare - as though you resented him for ruining you, tainting your heart and leaving you broken.

The realization shattered him a bit more. All this time, he had been worried that you had moved on, that you were living a better life without him. But you had been just as lonely as he was - aside from the company of a small child that reminded you more and more of Spencer every single day.

Spencer took a breath, trying to focus.

“Just come into protection.” He pressed. “The FBI will take you to a safehouse, and-”

“A safehouse?” You scoffed. “How is that any safer than the house we’re currently standing in? Does it have bulletproof windows and a steel reinforced door? Or - or is it just a regular house with regular windows, and regular walls, and a regular door? Just like my house?” You chuckled sarcastically, moving to grab the cutting board with the chicken, shoving it into the now heated pan with the back of your knife.

Spencer’s nerves were grated on by your sarcasm.

“Dammit, Y/N!” He shouted, much louder than he intended to. “Can’t you see that I’m just trying to protect you?”

“Yeah, and where the hell was that attitude four years ago when I begged you to-” You swiftly cut yourself off, the words dying off in your throat, not wanting to rip open old wounds.

You tossed the items back onto the counter with a crash, only causing more tension in the air. You took in a sharp breath - suddenly, standing in front of the stove, you felt too hot.

You reached for the edge of your hoodie without thinking, and peeled it up over your head. You were wearing a thin camisole underneath, but surprisingly, your black bra being so visible through the thin white fabric wasn’t the thing that caught Spencer’s eyes as more and more of you was revealed.

There it was.

The four-pointed star necklace that he had given to you on your birthday was sitting in the middle of your chest, right where it belonged, glaring at Spencer, taunting him.

It became apparent to him in seconds that you had been wearing it all day. You had answered the door earlier that day wearing that pale blue hoodie, having no clue that Spencer would be on the other side. You had no reason to impress him, quite angered that he was even there in the first place, actually. So you had been wearing it under your hoodie since before then - since the beginning of the day, likely.

You had been holding it close to your chest as something precious - hiding it under your clothes as a secret, just for yourself.

If there was a single shred of doubt in Spencer’s mind that he had loved you more, that he had missed you more since the break-up, it was gone now. You hadn’t dated other men, and you had silently carried that symbol of him, as if unconsciously beaconing him back to you.

When you finally got the fabric off your head, you instantly noticed him gaped-jawed and staring at your chest. You wouldn’t have called him a pervert, because before you even glanced down to confirm that you had the necklace on - you knew. A terrible guilt struck through your gut, like you had been caught stealing something, and you froze up on the spot.

You and Spencer locked eyes for a moment, and his hands quivered with the terrible need to reach out and touch you - though in that moment, standing just across the kitchen from you, he felt a thousand miles away. He had a terrible need to hold you, yet he had never felt more distant from you. He had never felt more prohibited from touching you since the moment you had first grabbed his hand on that very first date.

How long had you wanted him back and said nothing? How many days had you woken up thinking about him, knowingly raised his son alone, and made no effort to contact him?

“I - I have to go change my clothes.” You said, your voice so utterly small. “Can you watch the stove?”

You didn’t wait for a reply before you turned and whisked off again, clearly too eager to escape the tension.

Spencer busied himself with watching over the food - stirring here and there, and starting the cartoon turtle mac and cheese based on its boxed instructions - trying desperately not to think about what all this meant.

When you came back, you were wearing a simple, light tee shirt. And it was easy to see that you had taken off the necklace and put it away somewhere.

…

Having Spencer there for dinner felt like role-playing as a family.

With Sebastian in his usual seat behind the dinosaur placemat, sitting between the two of you - it felt like something out of a strange, distant dream. He kept looking to Spencer for encouragement when he ate his broccoli and didn’t spill his juice, and Spencer stared at you across the table, having that constant fond look in his eye whenever he turned back to Sebastian or talked to him in that sweet, soothing voice.

Spencer also watched you, and tried to make it seem subtle. You noticed his eyes drifting over to your plate, ensuring that you were eating, as he had done many times before. You wanted to make another snarky comment about him pretending to care, but you kept your mouth shut.

It felt so shallow, and plastic, with the supposed threat hanging over your head; knowing that the only reason Spencer was there in the first place was because he believed that you were in danger.

Yet, it felt like something you had been doing all your life. It felt like just another night. Like Spencer had come home from work to this a thousand times; like you would get up and do the dishes and kiss him and then bring him to your bed for the night. It felt like that’s how things should be.

You really weren’t sure if you loved it or hated it.

You were nearly finished with your food and Spencer’s dinner was half-done, food getting cold on his plate while he encouraged Sebastian to finish up - when there was a knock on the door.

You expected it to be JJ again, pressing you about the protective custody thing. You let out a harsh sigh when Sebastian quickly wormed out of his chair and raced toward the door - eager to answer it himself.

“Seb!” You called after him. “What have I told you about answering the door when Mommy isn’t there?”

You raced after him and uncomfortably grabbed him up with a gut full of food, Spencer trailing behind you awkwardly.

“You’re here now!” Sebastian argued, laughter in his voice.

“Here, go with your-”

You abruptly cut yourself off, stopping yourself from saying ‘go with your dad’.

“Go back to the table with Spencer.” You told him, turning him around and directing him toward the man. You couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes, knowing that he could predict exactly what that verbal near-slip was. “I will answer the door.”

“Come on, bud.” Spencer encouraged him. “If you finish up all your dinner, we can have a treat later,”

He hated to promise something you hadn’t permissed, but he knew that you needed the distraction right now.

You unlocked the door and opened it, fully expecting JJ to be standing there patiently (likely having heard that entire exchange from behind the door). You were surprised when nobody was there, and instead, your eyes drifted downwards to a large brown envelope sitting on the step.

It didn’t seem to have any kind of shipping label on it - just your first name written on the front in bright red ink. It made you startlingly curious, at the same time, caused a tight knot to form in your gut. You picked it up, bringing it inside before you closed the door and locked it again.

You brought it back to the kitchen and placed it on the kitchen island, and of course, this caught Spencer’s attention where he could see you from his place at the table.

“Y/N, what is that?” He asked, unable to mask the frantic worry popping up in his voice.

“I don’t know.” You said, feeling slightly haunted by it yourself.

You moved to open the envelope, and before Spencer could stop you, something echoing in the back of his mind - chirps about potential poison or even a bomb - you had ripped it open and spilled the contents onto the counter.

Your insides quaked when you saw what it was.

Spencer rushed over to look at the items with you, and naturally, this drew Sebastian’s attention as well.

“What is it, Mommy?” He asked, marching over and trying to get a peek over the edge of the counter, but not yet tall enough to see - which you were thankful for.

“Did you finish all your dinner?” You asked, leaning over to look at him.

“I did!” He said proudly, nodding.

“Okay, then, why don’t you go into the pantry and pick a cookie?” You said, hoping that your sudden flood of worry and fear didn’t quake through your voice as you forced a smile for him.

“Okay!” He cheered brightly.

He ran off to the large cupboard beside the kitchen table, eager to pick between the varieties of cookies that you had there.

(Again, he was smart - but easily distracted. That you were thankful for.)

“Y/N-” Spencer gasped when he saw the items that had come out of the envelope.

“I don’t wanna hear it.” You said, your voice now quivering with tears you found yourself unable to hold back. “I don’t wanna hear about how you were right.”

You stared down at the items in horror.

It was several photos of you; very voyeuristic shots of you going about your daily life. Several of them including Sebastian when you had been doing perfectly innocent things - going shopping, playing at the park. Even pictures of the two of you playing in your own backyard. A view of you getting dressed through your bedroom window.

One of the photos - a photo of nothing more than the front door to your home - had a message scribbled across it in bright red marker.

‘Daddy misses you. Be home soon. xoxo’

“That’s not what I was going to say.” Spencer sighed.

He saw how horribly you were shaking - he saw the tears brimming your eyes. This time, he truly couldn’t help himself. He stepped around the counter, and upon instinct, he swept you into a tight hug.

Unconsciously, he caged you away from any potential danger with his arms around your shoulders - holding you like he would have when you had a nightmare or when you shied away from men you considered ‘creepy’ on the subway. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your fingers digging into his back for comfort, clinging to him like you would have clung to a life raft at sea.

You broke into sobs, the sound muffled by his chest, and Spencer’s own heart stung - knowing that the true depth of the danger had finally hit you.

“It’s okay.” He told you. “It’s gonna be okay.”

He rubbed a flat palm across your back, hoping to comfort you in some way, even though he knew that the terror of the whole situation was mounting - and it was a horrible thing to face.

“Spencer-” You sobbed out, unsure what you even wanted to say.

“I’m going to make sure it’s okay.” He said firmly. “You know I won’t let anyone hurt you, right?”

It wasn’t even a question in your mind. The two of you had your problems back in the day, but you knew that Spencer would never let any harm come to you.

You clung tighter to him, savoring the moments while Sebastian was still distracted - likely sneaking more than the singular cookie you had allotted him to have, not that you cared in the slightest right now.

If there was anything else on your mind aside from the potentially crippling fear as the realization truly hit you, any room past the fact that you had been stalked and secretly surveilled by a murderer for weeks now; then you might have considered the fact that when you had woken up this morning, you never would have never thought that Spencer Reid, of all people, would be such a comforting touch to you.

Oh, how things change.

…

Spencer was hesitant to let you go from the hug.

But he had to call the team, because this was an important break in the case. And he had to see what kinds of arrangements they could make for you - if they could find a safehouse for you on such short notice, or if he would be taking you to the field office or the police station.

You cleaned the cookie crumbs off Sebastian and took him to the living room, trying to maintain some sense of calm while you turned on a random cartoon show on cable. He got out a puzzle and you helped him with it while Spencer stepped into the other room and dialed Morgan’s number.

“Hey, Reid.” Morgan greeted him. “How’s married life treating you?”

“Not funny.” Spencer replied, his voice short and frustrated. “The UnSub just delivered another package here. More photos. And a message. ‘Be home soon’. It’s pretty clear that he’s planning on making his move soon.”

“Woah.” Morgan replied. “Well, if Y/N didn’t want protective custody before, then I’m assuming that scared her into complying.”

“Yeah.” Reid agreed. “Where should I bring her?”

“Hold on.”

There were some voices clustered on the other end, and then, the next person to speak on the phone was Hotch.

“Reid… you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

“What is it?” Spencer prodded.

“Morgan and Prentiss got nothing at the library. So far, the only thing we’ve got on this UnSub is the fact that Y/N is likely his next victim, and he doesn’t seem eager to break pattern just because you’re in the house.”

Spencer didn’t like where this was going.

“You’re not insisting-?” He asked, and Hotch filled in the blank for him.

“Our only chance to catch him could be… catching him in the act. We could tie him to the other crimes if we catch him breaking into the house-”

“The house that my son is currently in.” Spencer huffed.

“We could bring the boy into protective custody. And leave Y/N there. We know that he never hurts the children, that’s not part of his MO.” Hotch offered meekly.

“But he gets some kind of catharsis from playing house.” Spencer replied. “If we move Sebastian, that might cause him to break pattern, and he could just move onto another victim.”

Then, something else occurred to Spencer.

“Also, we don’t know how he’s surveilling us.” He added on. “If he sees where we’re moving Sebastian, he might go after him.”

He considered that another woman - someone completely unsuspecting, someone unprepared, someone innocent with no way to defend herself - would be killed if Spencer made the wrong choice. It could be more than one woman if the UnSub got away and simply continued his patterns uninterrupted.

This was more controlled. The UnSub seemed determined to confront Spencer.

Spencer felt that was a confrontation he could win.

“We can have unmarked cars posted on every block. And the minute he breaches the house, you call it in. He won’t get anywhere near them.”

Spencer hated that it was their only choice.

“Okay.”

...

Keep reading here: Chapter Five - Brick By Boring Brick

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