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reiderwriter · 7 months ago

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Puppet On A String

Chapter One of I Can't Help Myself

Synopsis: Expecting your big promotion any day, you're none too happy to hear about the departments miraculous new hire. You're even less happy when he moves into your office and starts touching things.

Warnings: Shitty office politics, brief allusions to Spencer's time in prison, swearing, reader is understandably bitter.

Masterlist || 5k Celebration Challenge

The day your professional aspirations came to a crashing halt was also the day that you met Doctor Spencer Reid. To say that your view of him was somewhat soured by the unpleasant circumstances of your morning meeting was an understatement and a half.

Sitting in your bosses stuffy work office, you felt your heart stop as the situation was explained.

“You understand, right, Y/N? We really value your work here, so we're really relying on you to help him settle in.” He grinned at you from behind his desk, but all friendliness in the gesture was dampened by the fact that he hadn't even bothered to look up from the papers he was looking through, glasses hanging low on his nose.

“I'm trying to understand, I am. But last week, we discussed me moving onto the tenure track. Are you saying that's out of the picture for me now?”

The smile turned into a grimace as he looked up at you, finally. He removed his glasses and folded them in front of him as you squirmed in your seat. You needed to advocate for yourself, but it wasn't easy when it felt like you were in the principals office being reprimanded.

“Doctor Spencer Reid will be joining us on loan from the FBI. Someone at the Bureau called in a favour with one of the college executives. The decision is above my pay grade - thus it is above yours.”

Your cheeks felt hot as he reprimanded you, and you bit your tongue as best you could.

“He will be with us for the semester, and then we can discuss your promotion again next semester. I will ask again, you understand the situation?”

You nodded, understanding the unspoken - the department wide email introducing your new member of staff and the generous donation from the FBI that came with him. You brought nothing to the department other than a stellar academic record and hard work.

“I'm glad we could both come to an understanding,” he said, aptly dismissing you as you stood to take your leave.

“Ah, one last thing, Y/N,” he said, stopping you in your tracks as you readied yourself to run to the nearest bathroom stall and cry until your first class - roughly 7 and a half minutes.

“Doctor Reid will be sharing your temporary office space. We're strapped for space, and there weren't any other facilities available at the last minute. Since your students always remark on how approachable and welcoming you are, you're the best person to show him around, too.”

The gloom in your heart hardened to anger as the man dismissed you, returning his glasses to his head and not bothering to make eye contact as he added more work to your already heavy load.

“Of course. Thank you.”

You closed the door behind you, willing yourself to not slam it, and stalked down the corridor to your own - now communal - office.

Half of your brain was screaming at you to quit, but with rent in a college town to pay, and the academic year already in session, there was no way you were finding something this lucrative again.

You'd worked your ass off for the last five months. You just had to survive three more with Doctor Spencer Reid.

You had to keep your emotions in control until at least your office, you thought, even as the inescapable tears threatened to fall down your face. You hate that you cried when you were angry, that your emotions couldn't even sort themselves out enough to give appropriate physical responses, but at least you could angry-cry in peace before your new coworker showed up.

You ripped open the door and stomped to your desk, slamming the door shut behind you as you fell down with your head in your hands and let out a frustrated groan.

“Um… hello, can I help you?”

The voice caught you so off guard, you almost jumped from your seat in shock, backing up to the single window in the office.

“Fuck, you scared the hell out of me. What- who are you?” You asked the man you now saw sitting at the sofa opposite your desk, next the door. So close in fact, that you didn't see him walking in.

He was sat down, but you could tell he was tall, slightly older than you, but with big brown eyes that betrayed some experience. He sat comfortably at first, legs crossed, book in hand, but as you spoke, he sat straighter, stiffer, his relaxed expression becoming somewhat colder.

“I'm Doctor Spencer Reid. I was told this is my office from today onwards? If I'm incorrect, I can leave you to your…”

Of course, the very attractive, soft-spoken man in front of you just happened to be the derailment of your career. Temporary, you reminded yourself. Temporary derailment.

“No. Doctor Reid, of course. Hello. I'm Y/N. We'll be sharing the office for the semester, I just didn't know you'd be here today.”

He frowned slightly, like sharing the space was as uncomfortable with him as it was with you.

“If you can excuse me, I have a class to teach in…” You looked to the shelves where your small clock had fallen over once again - the office was cramped and the shelves unstable enough that closing the door meant knocking at least three things over.

“Three minutes, shit. I have to leave, please keep to yourself, I have a lot of important documents in here.”

The words were colder than you would've liked, but you couldn't find the strength to care much about his opinion of you.

You grabbed your laptop and left the room swiftly, abandoning Spencer Reid to your shared office.

Your first meeting may have been sour due to circumstance, but your second was unpleasant on the strength of Spencer Reid's grating personality alone.

In your five months at the college, you'd worked up a system for classwork.

Gather books. Go to class. Pick up coffee. Teach. Leave class. Pick up a second coffee. Go to your office. Host office hours. Work on a research paper. Rinse and repeat for any other classes you had that day.

With such a busy and caffeine fuelled schedule, you kept your office as neat as you could with your rickety shelves.

So, returning to meet Spencer Reid a second time, you almost threw up at the sight that befell you in the office.

“Hey, welcome back.”

The man sat on the one inch of your floor that wasn't taken up by furniture with all of the books in the office stacked up around him, the shelves bare and tipping precariously to one side.

“What the hell did you do to my office?” You blanched, looking around, unable to see the set of books you had organized for your next class.

“The shelves are broken, I put in a request to have them replaced, and I've been organizing the books by topic so-”

“The books were already organized. By class, and week they're to be taught. Fuck, I have a seminar in 30 minutes, I need those books.”

To his credit, Spencer Reid looked panicked as he sat sifting through all the books, even as your anger rolled off of you in waves.

“I can fix this. What shelf was it on?”

“Don't bother, just ruin my day some more. Hey, how about next time, you just throw everything in the trash?”

“I was trying to help, we're going to be sharing the office, and there isn't exactly space for two desks with your current filing system.”

“So you decided to rearrange without telling me? Asking me? I've been here five months, but you strolled in five hours ago and decided to change everything to suit you.”

“That's not - look, I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, well, you can start your apology by footing the bill for whatever improvements you've made. We're not tenured professors. Anything we add to the room or request comes out of our paycheck, and I'm not starving myself for floor to ceiling bookshelves.”

Whatever retort he was about to make was lost as you grabbed your bag from the floor and stormed out, leaving him behind in your dilapidated office.

When you returned to your office later that day, he was nowhere to be found. His new furniture, however, was crowding the room. A clone of your own desk was pushed up against the side of it, the pair forming an L shape. Great. Couldn't have gotten any closer if you tried.

Your couch was still in place by the door, but the old bookshelves were gone. They were replaced by a sturdier looking wooden set that now shelved all the books you'd inherited in the office or were using for class. And some new titles.

He hadn't put them back in the order you needed them in, though you doubted he ever would, but instead had them grouped by topic and within groupings in alphabetical order.

“How very precise,” you said, running your fingers along the book spines as you made your way to your desk.

“Whoops,” you said, pulling out a book you knew wasn't yours and letting it fall to the floor.

Was it petty? Sure. Was it therapeutic?Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Nice. Mature,” a voice said behind you, and for the second time in 12 hours, you jumped at the sound of Spencer Reid's voice.

“Jesus Christ, you need to stop doing that.”

“Doing what, walking into my own office?” He said, leaning against the new bookshelves.

“Our office. Shared. For three months.”

“Oh so you do remember we have to coexist?” He asked, grinning down at you. When did he get so close that he had to look down at you?

“Trust me, your presence is…felt,” you said, gesturing around the cramped space.

“What classes are you teaching?” You sighed, pushing past him to the open door and sitting down at the sofa.

“Profiling and the Criminal Psyche and I'm guest lecturing in Criminology 101. I have a few special lectures on geographical profiles in the next month.”

“And office hours?”

“What?”

“Your office hours, you're going to need to post them soon. Mine are Mondays and Thursdays at 11am, you'll need to be out of the office then so I can consult with the students about any absences or grades. If you haven't decided on your hours yet, my schedule is taped in the first draw of my desk.”

You grabbed your jacket from the hook on the door and pulled it over you like a blanket, laying yourself down on the sofa.

“Why would I need your-”

“Do us both a favour and schedule your hours during my contracted teaching time. It'll be easier.”

“Then why don't you schedule yourself during mine?”

You scoffed as you pulled a couch cushion up to rest your head on, closing your eyes as you drowned him out.

“Gee, you're some kind of genius. Can't you figure that one out yourself?”

You heard his sight of frustration but plugged in your headphones anyway, enjoying your 20-minute power nap as you stubbornly refused to face the day's stress.

A week later, you were deep into a College Cold War.

Spencer had attempted what you'd thought was a truce on his second day, arranging the pile of books you needed for that week's seminars on his desk happily.

Until you went to grab the top of the stack, and his hand held yours down on top of it.

“Sorry, that's for my class,” he said, glancing up at you. He smiled as he noticed the irritation in your eyes as you ground your teeth together.

“I'm teaching a class today based on this text. It was an assigned reading-”

“What a coincidence. It's an assigned reading in my class as well. For all 46 students. You better run over to the library, Y/N.”

You dragged your hand out from under his, brushing off the heat that ran up your arm from his hand as disgust rather than attraction.

His existence was irritating, but his face and body were more distracting than anything.

Storming off, you knew you had to one up him somehow, but you wanted to put some thought into it before doing something impulsive. Your first thought had been slashing his tires, so some perspective was definitely needed.

A week passed, and you found yourself having to endure the man's company on a Friday night for a departmental welcome meal. You'd assumed a week ago when it was scheduled into your outlook calendar that it would be to celebrate your promotion, and now the egg was most definitely on your face.

You'd debated not even turning up, but a warning email had let you know that attendance was compulsory, and the dress code was semi-formal.

So, you begrudgingly forced yourself into the little black dress you'd purchased a lifetime ago for your first graduation and got yourself a taxi over to whatever ridiculously expensive restaurant you have to fast at this time.

“Y/N, you’re here. We weren't sure you'd show up, after… you know!” One of the older professors said as you walked in, pressing an air kiss to either cheek as she handed you a champagne flute.

“Well, attendance was compulsory, so here I am!” You wanted to wipe the pompous smile off the woman's face so badly, but unfortunately, she was a member of the hiring committee. Three more months of sucking up to her was in your future, courtesy of a shitty move by the FBI.

“You say that, but our guest of honor isn't even here yet. Typical, right?”

You downed the drink she gave you and excused yourself to take your seat at the dinner table, needing a place to rest your glass to save yourself from cracking it in your furious grip.

It took another hour for Spencer Reid to show his face, and to your glee, he looked genuinely uncomfortable at the prospect of the night ahead.

“Sorry, I was unpacking some stuff at my apartment.”

“Oh, did you move recently?” A curious voice trailed up the table to ask him as he awkwardly side stepped to his seat. Right beside you, obviously.

“No, just… I had some stuff packed up.”

He held his tongue, not revealing more as the table fell in an awkward silence.

You dragged another glass to your lips and sat back in your chair, doing your best to stay unaddressed as the appetizers finally came out.

“Does the department have dinners often?” Spencer whispered, his hot breath fanning against your neck as he leaned closer to you.

The hot feeling washed over you again as you turned towards him, immediately pulling back and putting some distance between the two of you.

“No. Usually, it is only when welcoming guest lecturers or when someone gains tenure.”

“So who got tenure?”

You scoffed. “Funny. Thanks, Spencer.”

“What?”

You looked back at him again, and his brow furrowed in confusion.

“This meal is to introduce you. Everyone else here has tenure.”

“You don't.”

“Yes, well, there wasn't exactly room in the budget for the hotshot FBI profiler and a steady income for another Professor.” You slammed your glass down again and picked up your bag and things, hoping the table hadn't heard your conversation.

“Please excuse me.” You said smiling at the rest of the table. Some of the women sent you sympathetic glances, but the department dinosaurs simply continued their conversations. You'd think a department of psychologists would be able to figure out they were all absolute narcissists.

You carefully exited the group and took yourself outside for some much needed air.

“Y/N.” He shouted from behind you again, and you had to be honest, you were sick of him following and sneaking up on you.

“God, what now, Spencer? Go back inside and get celebrated or whatever. They probably can't start the self-congratulatory circle jerk without you anyway.”

“I came to apologize. Again. But you don't seem to be able to handle the words ‘I'm sorry,’ at all, do you?”

He looked exasperated, but however he was feeling, you felt worse.

“Look, Spencer. I probably have nothing against you personally. But I've just been conned into another three months of probationary minimum wage because your boss at the Bureau decided he wanted rid of you for a month or two. Some of us didn't get child genius scholarships for multiple PhDs and aren't receiving two paychecks right now.”

“If money is an issue, Y/N, you know I could-”

“No. No, stop butting into my personal problems. We can be civil, but we're not… we're not friends, Spencer.”

You stepped back and let out another sigh as you forced the words to stand between you.

“Okay. I'll stay out of your way.”

“Great. Looking forward to it.”

“Sure. Me too.”

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humanpurposes · 4 months ago

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August

Part 1: Possibilities and Peace Offerings

Your family has been invited to spend August at Dragonstone, where things get a little tense after an unfortunate first encounter with Aemond Targaryen, one he's determined to put right.

Aemond Targaryen x Reader // Modern AU

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

Warnings: 18+, nothing too bad here, eventual smut, slight enemies to lovers, mutual pining

Words: 7k

A/n: Summer romance is here!! hope you likeeee. This is going to be three parts in total.

The impending summer exists beyond time, beyond the rest of the world. Exams are over and you’ve already received a mark for your dissertation. The dorm room you called home for three years is packed up and returned to its prison-like appearance, just as it was when you were an eager and excitable fresher. Suddenly the world is an endless sea of possibilities and you’re standing on the water’s edge with nothing to lose.

You spend a few weeks with your friends, drinking in pub gardens and driving down to the rammed beaches along the coast near King’s Landing, but this summer of possibility takes an unexpected turn when your father receives an invitation to spend the month of August at Dragonstone, as a guest of Viserys Targaryen. Viserys and your father have been business partners for just under a decade, but to be welcomed into his inner circle, to the ancestral home of the Targaryen family, is another honour altogether.

Your parents are beside themselves with excitement. You’re a little more sceptical but you won’t let them know it. So once your uni friends have gone back to their hometowns, you pack an array of swimsuits and summer dresses into a suitcase, and bundle into the backseat of your father’s car.

The aircon is on full blast. You sip on the last of your water as an 80s playlist blares through your headphones to block out the conversation of investments, clients, lawsuits and legal fees from the front seats.

Dragonstone is three things; an island, a town, and a castle. You drive out of the city, red and grey buildings blurring into greenery and vast spaces of blue, the sky and the sea. A ferry takes you from the mainland to the island’s port. The song you were listening to fades away as you slip your headphones off your ears. The town is utterly charming, from the rows of fishing boats in the harbour to the cobbled streets and obscure little buildings, bookshops, bakeries and butchers. The sun shines brightly, heat pulses through the window even with the blast of cool air.

A few more miles and you reach a gatehouse, ancient stone walls smothered with ivy, guarded by two stone creatures with their jaws wide open— dragons with spikes and sharp teeth. The driveway is lined with thick trees and foliage. Suddenly you turn a corner and there it is, towers and turrets reaching up into the summer sky, hundreds of windows, more carvings of dragons looming proudly over where Blackwater Bay becomes the Narrow Sea.

The man who greets you by the doors is not a Targaryen. He has dark hair, dark eyes, a crisp white shirt and a radio on his belt. Your father seems to know him already. He greets him as “Cole,” and introduces him to you and your mother.

Cole offers his hand to you. “Criston,” he insists, “I’m the head of Mr Targaryen’s security.”

Two identical butlers take your bags from the car while Criston shows you into the entrance hall. He comments on the antiques and the 14th century timbers, leading you through to the room he calls “the waiting chamber”. It has high ceilings, wood panelled walls, an enormous fireplace and aged but comfortable looking leather sofas at the edges of the room. You note the portraits on the walls, the more recent photographs on the mantle, but before you can get a proper look, someone announces their own arrival into the room.

Viserys Targaryen has his arms open, dressed far more casually than you’ve seen him at various galas and events, he even has a pair of aviators keeping his silver hair out of his face. He greets your father with a smile and a firm handshake, his eyes sharp but somewhat hollow.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” he says, moving onto your mother and then to you. “We’re having drinks on the patio, enjoying the sun. Why don’t you join us?” He chuckles and you don’t really understand why. You’re not sure how any of this works.

Viserys leads you through the house, stopping by the great hall and the library, pointing out details like Criston did. His home is devoted to family and every furnishing carries some sentimental value. The curtains and the sofas in the library are Arryn blue for his first wife, the shelves are laden with books that belonged to his grandfather. There are items here which have belonged to the Targaryens for generations and their house’s sigil is carved into the walls and wooden beams.

At last you come to a hall with tall windows, glass chandeliers and marble floors. Viserys calls this “the west gallery”, a more modern addition to the castle, built in the 17th century. He opens a double glass door and you can already see the sprawling green gardens, the unnatural blue of a swimming pool somewhere in the distance. Before all that is the raised patio, an array of chairs and the people sitting in them.

You step into the heat of the garden, into cigarette smoke and the sounds of laughter, loud and seemingly rehearsed. Your father knows most of these people, other associates of Targ Corp, Corlys Velaryon and his wife Rhaenys Tagraryen, Jason Lannister and his wife Joanna, Lyonel Strong and his son Larys. Even Otto Hightower is lounging back in his chair, sunglasses over his eyes, a pale pink cocktail in a crystal glass.

Your parents smile graciously, your mother clutching her handbag over her shoulder, your father wiping the sweat from his brow, trying to air out the damp patches in his shirt. They’ll want to make a good impression. Each person staying at Dragonstone this summer is another opportunity for your father.

You glance down at your denim shorts and your sandals— an outfit for comfort, not for networking.

Viserys directs the three of you to a cushioned wooden bench and you squeeze in beside your mother. Another butler appears and offers you all a drink. Your parents both ask for a gin and tonic. You’re thinking that you’d like to dunk yourself in the pool, so you ask for a large glass of water.

“With ice and lemon, miss?”

“Yeah, please, if you have it?”

Your mother nudges you with her elbow and whispers in your ear. “This is Dragonstone, if you want it they probably have it.”

“If I asked for the Prince of Pentos’ phone number, do you think they’d bring it out on a silver tray?” You return with a grin.

The minutes drag by. Lyonel Strong asks your father about his law practice. Corlys Velaryon and Jason Lannister enter a heated discussion about yachts. Otto Hightower mentions the name “Daemon” and the other voices go quiet. You take large gulps of your water, occasionally sharing silent looks with your mother.

The heat is sweltering. You feel your head pulsing, your skin becoming damp and you worry you may end up as a puddle on the patio if you don’t find a reason to escape soon.

The glass doors open and two women enter the garden, one with auburn hair, dressed in a floral dress and high heels. The other, younger, blonde hair cut into a fashionably short fringe, barefoot, dressed in denim shorts and baggy t-shirt, goes straight to Otto. She doesn’t look at anyone else. She stands behind Otto and leans down to wrap her arms around his neck. This must be Alicent Hightower and her daughter.

Alicent makes her rounds elegantly. She’s familiar with all the people present, except for the three of you, the outsiders, piled onto a single piece of garden furniture. Her eyes are wide and brown, her lips full and fallen slightly even when she smiles. She asks about the journey from King’s Landing, if you’ve had a chance to explore the town.

She asks you a lot of questions too, what you do, where you studied, what your plans are for the Autumn. And once she’s found out what she wants from you, she starts telling you everything about her children, unprompted.

“Helaena’s starting a PhD in a few weeks, staying in King’s Landing– King’s college, of course, not KLU, seven heavens. We didn’t want her to be too far away from home,” she says, looking back at her daughter and her father. “Etymology. Well, she’s always had a thing for insects, I could never understand it, but it’s easier to let her follow her interests, she’s that sort of girl.

“Now Aegon is like that too, he likes a lot of things, would be nice if he could be interested in something that makes him money. Oh well, he’s into the arts, fancies himself a photographer, directed a few plays at university– Oldtown. He wrote a screenplay, you must remind me to show you, it’s really quite clever. It’s about injustice or something like that.

“Daeron is at Oldtown too, at Citadel Boys. He’s the only child I sent to board, I just felt he might be happy with a bit of space from all of us. He wants to go to Oldtown like his brothers. His father wants him to do economics, but he’s very good at history.

“Aemond did history, but then he trained in accountancy. He’s worked all over, Oldtown, Storm’s End, Harrenhal, but he’s looking to stay in King’s Landing now–”

“Mum, you’ll bore her to tears,” Helaena says and it’s only now you notice that she’s moved to stand in front of you.

Alicent frowns.

You stifle a smile and raise your brows hopefully.

“Do you know where you’re sleeping yet?” Helaena asks, looking at her mother.

“I’ve put her in the moat room,” Alicent says. She turns back to you, “I’m sorry, darling, you’re probably tired, aren’t you? Helaena can show you your room.”

You kiss your mother's cheek and agree to reconvene for dinner in the evening.

“Sorry about mum, she just jumps at the chance to talk about her kids,” Helaena says as you walk back through the west gallery.

“It’s sort of cute,” you say, staring up at the gold detailing on the ceiling. “Very informative.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she says with a wicked smile.

When Helaena laughs she scrunches up her eyes and her nose. She sways her arms by her sides as she walks and trails her fingertips on the walls. Unlike Criston or Viserys, she doesn’t have little anecdotes about any of the vases or paintings on display. She’s a juxtaposition of her family’s ancestral home, airy and lighthearted, earthy and inexplicably real.

“Your parents are probably in the west wing,” she explains as you come to a winding stairwell. “That’s where everyone else will be too. The moat room is on the other side of the house.”

You nod along, stealing glances out the windows, at the gardens, and from higher up, you can see the sea.

“Don’t be too disheartened though,” Helaena says, “that means you’re with us.”

She shows you your room first. It sits at the very corner of the castle with windows to the north and the east. The moat in question isn’t a moat, it’s more of a well kept ditch. By the rest of the house you were half expecting the room to be medieval, but to your surprise it’s bright, carpeted, sans priceless antiques and heirlooms. A queen-sized bed waits for you piled with pillows.

“I’m down the hall, and the boys are in the next corridor,” Helaena explains. “If you smell something suspicious, it’s Aegon.”

She helps you unpack your suitcase, admiring your swimsuits and looking through the small collection of books you’ve brought to pass the time.

She shows you her room which is further down the corridor. It’s much larger than yours, far more personal. She has worn patterned rugs over the wooden floors, dark blue wallpaper and accents of gold everywhere, the mirror over her vanity, the handles on the drawers and the wardrobe. You’re most intrigued by the framed taxidermies on the walls, butterflies with the most beautiful wings you’ve ever seen, moths, beetles, even a scorpion.

You’re a little relieved when you see a cat curled up on her bed, with a thick white coat, brown ears.

“Dreamfyre,” Helaena says, scooping the cat up in her arms. “She’s named after the Valryian god of prophecy and wisdom.”

You hold your hand out for Dreamfyre to sniff. She considers you for a moment, and runs her head against your fingers. “So can she tell me my future?” you ask.

Helaena stares at you. “Don’t be ridiculous, she’s a cat. Why, hoping for something in particular?”

“I like to see where life takes me,” you say.

After exchanging phone numbers and scrolling through each other’s Spotify playlists, Helaena tells you that she thinks the two of you are going to be friends.

Dinner is surprisingly more pleasant, where you all eat around a table on the patio. Being outside is far more bearable once the sun starts to set and a breeze sweeps in from the sea. You’re served white fish, potato salad coated in herbs which Alicent says she grows herself, summer vegetables, grilled courgettes, red and yellow peppers, sweet and tangy tomatoes, washed down with white wine.

You sit beside Helaena, opposite two of her brothers, Aegon and Daeron. Daeron is far taller than his older brother but his face is clearly younger. His pale blond hair is slightly overgrown, his nose a little pink and his skin freckled from being in the sun. “Aemond managed to beat me at tennis today,” he says.

Aegon rolls his eyes, far more concerned with scratching the ears of a golden labrador perched on the floor beside him.

You look to Helaena for an explanation.

“Daeron’s looking to go pro. Aemond can’t stand that he’s not the best at something.”

There’s an empty space at the head of the table, between Aegon and Helaena. You’ve yet to see any other evidence that the elusive middle brother exists.

“There’s a tennis court here?” You ask.

“Towards the water garden, you should be able to see it from the moat room.” Helaena says. “You should have a look.”

Dessert is pistachio ice-cream, then everyone starts to disperse. Aegon grabs a bottle of wine and he and Daeron traipse over to a firepit at the edge of the patio, followed by the labrador. Your parents follow Viserys and the others into the house. Corlys and Rhaenys linger at the table, staring up at the sky and taking long drags from their cigarettes.

You trail Helaena to a neatly kept kitchen. Some of the staff pass through, into a far larger back room with metal surfaces, where the real cooking is done. Criston sits at the kitchen island on a stool, eating a pasta salad from a glass bowl. Helaena pats his head as she passes him. He doesn’t seem surprised by it, perhaps it’s a common occurrence.

“Feel free to grab anything you want, by the way. There’s all sorts of snacks and stuff, and if you want more of something give Criston a shout,” Helaena says, picking out bags of chocolate buttons and sour sweets from a cupboard.

“That’s kind,” you say, twisting your fingers over each other in front of you. “I’m quite tired, I think I might just have a shower and go to bed.”

“Darling, it’s summer, you can do whatever you want,” Helaena says. “See you at breakfast, yeah?” She pulls you into a quick hug and disappears out into the garden.

Not wanting to linger when Criston’s phone starts to ring, you decide to brave it and find your way back to your bedroom. Aegon and Daeron seem like fun, maybe too much fun for tonight, you just need to sleep off the fatigue from the sun.

This place is far too big for you to feel settled just yet. It amazes you how everyone can navigate the castle so easily, it’s like a maze. Eventually you find your way back to the entrance hall. You think you might know the way to the east wing from here, but when you see the sky beyond the windows, lilac and orange, dotted with grey clouds and the first few stars of the evening, you want to make the most of the dying light. Maybe you could head towards the water garden and find the tennis court.

Your sandals crunch against the gravel which stretches out into paths leading in three directions. The central one leads to the driveway and the gatehouse. To the left is the gardens past the edge of the moat, and to the right is an outlook and a downhill path which disappears from sight, which you assume leads down to the sea. You can hear the waves in the distance.

The sunlight is fading fast. You cross your arms over yourself, shivering and regretting the lack of a cardigan. You tell yourself you might warm up with a bit of a walk.

You take a few paces down the path towards the gardens– a dog’s bark has your heart leaping out of your chest. It’s deep and loud, coming from behind you. Your head darts around. An enormous dog has emerged from the downhill path and is bounding towards you, covering ground quickly.

You keep your feet planted on the ground, out of fear

The dog, a great dane, stops before you— it truly is huge, its head would come up to your torso if you were close enough, and you don’t really want to find out– barking viciously. Its teeth flash, flecks of saliva dripping from its mouth.

“Back off! Come, Vhagar!”

You look back along the path. A man in a black t-shirt and black shorts is walking quickly towards you and the dog. He grabs it by its collar and yanks it back, fastening it on a leash.

His eyes dart up— eye, you realise. The right side is a bright blue, the left is clouded, framed by a scar slicing down from his brow to his cheek.

“Who are you?” He asks like an accusation.

You hesitate, your heart still racing in panic.

You say your first name, then your family name, at that the man tuts and raises himself to full height, keeping the great dane on a short leash. “Right. What are you doing out here?”

“Just… looking around.”

“Just looking around someone else’s house?”

Gods now you’re really starting to panic. He’s glaring at you as if it’s your fault his dog just made a break for you.

He huffs irritably through his nose. “Look, Vhagar’s not always friendly and especially not around strangers. Be careful, yeah?”

Vhagar now seems content enough sitting by her owner’s side, wagging her tail and panting with her tongue out. Her grey coat is covered in sand, especially her paws and her nose.

“If your dog’s not always friendly why wasn’t she on a leash?”

His face hardens. Frowning suits his sharp features and the intensity of his eye. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is my fucking house.”

That explains the blond hair, and you suppose now he has the same lanky look as Daeron and the same gauntness in his face as Aegon.

“Right, your dog could have just mauled me but thanks for the friendly reminder.” You turn towards the house and mutter loud enough for him to overhear, “prick.”

You can’t shake the frustration. Nothing takes the edge off, not the hot stream of water from the shower, the routine of your skincare or the feeling of sinking into an impossibly soft mattress. Dragonstone is perfect… and all you want to do is scream, just a little.

Breakfast is served in the morning room, next to the kitchen, according to the text you got from Helaena. You put a swimsuit on, a patterned one piece and pull on some shorts. Before you head downstairs you grab a pair of sunglasses, a bottle of suncream and a book, determined that your morning will be peaceful and idyllic.

People flitter into the morning room as they please. Helaena is still in her pyjamas, tucking into a bowl of yoghurt and fruit. Daeron comes in and starts eating toast off Alicent’s plate, having already run a casual 5k about the grounds.

The man from last night is hovering by a side table, placing sausages and bacon onto a small plate. He glances sideways at you as you enter.

You keep your teeth pressed together as you reach for a plate and go for the platter of pastries, reaching for an almond croissant.

His elbow must be a few inches from yours. “Morning,” he mutters.

You were half expecting him to act like you don’t exist. “Morning,” you mumble back.

“Have you two already met?” Helaena asks loudly from the table.

“Briefly,” he says.

“And you didn’t actually tell me your name,” you say, adding some strawberries to your plate for good measure.

“The boy has no manners,” Daeron says in a mocking voice, earning him an exasperated chide from his mother. Helaena giggles to herself.

He faces you fully. “Aemond,” he says.

“Good for you,” you say, and go to take a seat beside Helaena.

“Tea or coffee?” she asks you, reaching towards the two silver pots in the middle of the table.

“Coffee, please.”

Helaena makes a shocked expression. “Blasphemy. I’m a tea girl.”

As Helaena pours some coffee into a china cup, Aemond takes the free seat opposite you. Your heart races a little, infuriated at the sight of him, somewhat guilty that your time at Dragonstone has already soured and his entire family is there to see it.

You add just a dash of milk to your coffee. In the corner of your eye you see him watching you, fork hovering in front of his face. You muster the confidence to look up and he averts his eye.

After you’ve finished your breakfast you head out to the patio, down the stone steps and to the pool, settling on one of the lounge chairs. Helaena has gone back up to her room to change and bring you both down a towel.

You lather suncream on your limbs, face and neck, and open your book. This is a nice kind of heat, one that you’re more prepared for. You can almost feel it permeating your skin, breathing new life into your blood.

You get a few moments of bliss until a silhouette appears beside you.

You raise your eyes from the page, over the edges of your sunglasses, staring ahead at the surface of the pool. You can smell a man’s aftershave, and you can tell he’s too tall to be Aegon.

Ice clinks against glass. He leans down to place something on the small table beside you. “Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

You don’t want to turn your head, that might be misinterpreted as you actually caring.

But then Aemond’s voice takes on a lighter tone and he says, “Are you reading Crime and Punishment?”

You scrunch your brows in bewilderment as you look up at him.

His eye moves between your face and the book in your lap

“Yeah,” you say, shifting your legs and drawing your knees closer to your torso, “I’m finding it a bit boring to be honest.”

His lips are parted ever so slightly and you can see the tips of his teeth. “It’s one of my favourite books.”

“I think that might explain a lot,” you say.

The corner of his mouth flickers like he might smile. He holds it back.

“What’s this?” You ask, looking down at the glass of iced coffee he’s placed on the table.

“A peace offering,” Aemond says. “I really am sorry about yesterday evening. I just… panicked. Vhagar isn’t always good around people she doesn’t trust. She bit my nephew once actually.”

“Oh, not good.”

“It was years ago, and to be fair to her—” he doesn’t finish that sentence. He presses his lips together. “I just thought I should apologise to you.”

Even when apologising he sounds smug.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” you say.

He hums, it’s cryptic and it throws you off a little. He looks at you like he has a secret, like he’s managed to spot something that you haven’t.

You feel aware of yourself and now you can’t breathe without doing it consciously. You feel beads of sweat forming at the back of your neck, the warmth of your own skin with your thighs pressed together, the pulse in your chest, the restless feeling in your stomach. You’re worried you might do something stupid, but how could you? You’re only sitting in a swimsuit and sunglasses, while Aemond is doing nothing to hide the fact that he’s looking at you– studying you with a hint of excitement in his eye.

And after about a minute of this he says, “enjoy your morning,” turning and strolling towards the patio.

You clench your jaw, determined that you won’t look back at him, but you listen to his footsteps as they move away.

With each line you read, you can only think of Aemond pouring over every word and making this book his bible. You imagine his hands holding the cover, his fingertip dragging over the page, his lips parted in concentration. It feels intrusive, it feels too involved. You couldn’t possibly put this book down now.

Aemond is an understated presence amongst his own family. He often lurks in the library or in a corner of the sitting room with a book. He wanders the gardens with his headphones on. He takes Vhagar down to the beach every evening and some nights you steal glances of them from a window at the front of the house. He gets these headaches, something to do with the scar over his eye, and when he does he likes to retreat to his room. When he is around for dinner he sits at the head of the table, opposite his father but miles away from him. He’s not a big talker but when he does have something to add to the conversation he commandeers it. Everyone stops to listen when he speaks.

You like watching him, the way he fiddles with anything within his reach, how he strokes his fingertips over his hands, the edge of his jaw. You look for his microexpressions, the twitches of his brow and the quirk of his lips when he finds something amusing, and how at the mentions of sensitive subjects or certain names, his eye widens.

He smirks when he sees you looking, you don’t mind that he knows that you are.

You don’t want to seek him out, but you don’t try to avoid him either. He’s always somewhere in your periphery, his hand brushing against yours at the dinner table, the smell of his Marlboros wafting from the patio when you’re sitting by the pool which makes you wonder if he’s watching you. In the evenings after dinner, you and the Targaryen siblings hang around the firepit late into the night. Helaena and Daeron talk about constellations and roast marshmallows, Aegon plucks on a guitar, and you and Aemond fall into a game of pretending like you’re not looking at each other.

Some nights you sit across from him, your view distorted by the heat and the flames. Other nights he dares to sit beside you, close enough that his leg will rest against yours. He keeps his voice soft until you’re leaning in closer to catch every word he says, this insufferable man who bings you a coffee every morning and asks you about the books you read.

One night Aemond is sat beside you. Helaena sings along to Aegon’s guitar, Daeron drums his fingers against his legs, gazing in wonder at his siblings because moments like this are a rarity for him.

“Do you forgive me yet?” Aemond asks, his arm draped along the back of the bench you sit on. Maybe he can read your mind because you’ve been silently begging for him to come closer… closer…

Your senses are hazy, the smoke of the fire, the scent of cigarettes and aftershave lingering on Aemond’s shirt, the glasses of wine you had with dinner, the clear, cold night air piercing the backs of your arms. He notices you shivering and slips his arm around your shoulders, slowly, so you have a chance to tell him to stop. His heat is white hot. Your chest feels hollow and weightless.

Everything about him is hypnotising, the curve of his mouth, his self-assuredness, the look in his eye that’s gentle and intense all at once.

Your body feels heavy; you should probably go to bed soon. “Do you care if I forgive you?”

He frowns, less disappointed, more intrigued and lifts his hand to brush your hair from your neck, fingertips grazing over your skin. Your body stiffens in his wake, like electricity coursing through your shoulders, down your spine.

“I’d hate to have it hanging over my head,” he mutters.

You turn your head and now your faces are inches apart. His nose twitches as he breathes, you notice.

His palm comes to rest on your bare thigh, below the hem of your shorts. In the corner of your eye you see heads of silver hair glancing across the firepit. Aegon chuckles. You’re content to let the distractions fade away. “Keep bringing me coffees and I’ll consider it.”

The next day you’re laying on your bed, enjoying the cool of the early evening against your damp skin and hair after a shower. How you can be so exhausted after a day of reading by the pool makes you despair a little. It’s the heat, it messes with your brain.

The music through your headphones is interrupted by a notification.

Helaena Targaryen: Aemond said he’s off to walk the dogs if you want to join him.

You frown at the screen. Did he want Helaena to ask you? You specifically?

Surprisingly, you were getting on rather well with Aemond today, not enough for him to text you himself, or ask for your number for that matter. At the very least, things have been less hostile since your first encounter. You saw him at breakfast and he asked you how you were getting on with Crime and Punishment, if you had finally realised that it’s the best piece of literature put to the world (his words). You said you were not convinced, only because it was fun to argue about it with him. While you were sitting by the pool he came down in a pair of black trunks and no shirt, swam twenty laps in twenty minutes, then dried off in the lounge chair next to yours. Later, while Helaena was sitting with you, he appeared from the kitchen with two bowls of strawberries with the stems cut off. And then at lunch he sat between Aegon and Daeron, and hardly looked at you.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, painfully conscious that Helaena will be able to see that you’re typing.

Helaena Targaryen: I think it’s part of him ‘making amends’ with you.

Helaena Targaryen: He probably still feels bad about it.

Helaena Targaryen: Loser.

You smile to yourself and type out your reply: Yeah, why not. Where does he want me?

While Helaena starts to type you quickly pull on some shorts and a clean t-shirt. Your phone dings while you’re in front of the mirror, dabbing concealer under your eyes.

Helaena Targaryen: Front door. Five mins. Have fun :)

It will probably take you five minutes to find your way down to the entrance hall anyway. You finish your face off with some blush on the apples of your cheeks and a thin amount of mascara on your lashes. There’s not much you can do about your wet hair, but other than that you’re mostly satisfied with yourself, so you pull on a pair of trainers, slip your phone into your back pocket and hurry through the corridors of Dragonstone.

He’s waiting for you in the entrance hall by the door, Vhagar, the great dane on one leash, Sunfyre, the golden labrador on another. He gives you a half smile as you approach them.

“Who am I walking?” you say.

“My girl stays with me,” he says, offering you Sunfyre’s leash, which you take, ruffling his ears.

“Vhagar is your girl then, is she?” you ask as Aemond leads you out the door and down the front steps, past the spot where she scared you half to death. The dogs are eager to storm ahead but Aemond keeps Vhagar on a tight lead, so you do the same.

“I suppose. We’ve had great danes forever, my father’s very fond of them. We got Vhagar when I was sixteen and well, we just like each other a lot I guess.”

“What about Sunfyre?”

“He’s Aegon’s really, but mostly he stays at the Keep with mum and dad. Aegon doesn’t really stay in the same place long enough.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Yeah well, he does what he wants. This way,” Aemond says, nodding towards the downhill path to the beach. You’ve been down here with Helaena already, a winding gravel path lined with bushes and brambles down the cliff face. Vhagar plods along leisurely, Sunfyre can’t get down fast enough. When you stumble, Aemond steadies you, a large hand wrapped around your forearm. “He can run off now anyway,” he mutters, undoing the leash, and Sunfyre darts along the path in a golden flash.

Low in the sky, you see the sun dancing along the surface of the sea, waves rolling orange and blue into white foam as they meet the shore.

“What about you?”

Aemond looks at you with a brief look of bewilderment.

“Are you not doing what you want?”

He tries to conceal a frown, pouting his lips slightly. “Maybe I did for a bit, wound up working for Targ Corp, so I don’t see what difference any of it made.”

Once you reach the sand and Sunfyre is sniffing at some rocks along the base of the cliff, Aemond looks at you. “Are you alright if I take her off the leash?”

Vhagar looks pleadingly up at her owner, her tail thrumming against the ground.

“Yeah, of course,” you say.

“I just didn't know if you’d be comfortable after…”

“Oh,” you say, “thanks for considering it, but yes, it’s more than fine.”

Aemond grins as he undoes the clasp connecting the lead to Vhagar’s collar.

“What?” you ask.

“Does that mean you forgive me now?”

You fold your arms, your cheeks straining as you try to withhold the extent of your smile. “You do make a good coffee, I’ll give you that.”

Sunfyre and Vhagar entertain themselves, chasing each other, running to the edge of the water where the waves rush over the sand and retreat again. You and Aemond walk along the shore where the sand is damp and stable. Aemond says the tide will be coming in within the hour.

“So why work for Targ Corp if you don’t want to?” you ask him.

Aemond contemplates this for a moment, making a low humming noise in his throat. “If I really didn’t want to, I wouldn't.”

“But if Aegon gets to do what he wants, why don’t you?”

He looks down at his shoes, white sneakers, and digs his hands into the pocket of his joggers. “I remember thinking when I finished my bachelor’s, there were lots of things I was good at.”

You make a teasing face.

“No, I just mean there’s lots of things I could have done. I thought about being a curator, or something, you know? I did my dissertation on that actually, how museums and exhibitions can distort the past as well as preserve it–” he interrupts himself with a short tut. “Sorry, I don’t need to bore you.”

Your eyes trail along the curve of his jaw and his chin in the fading light. The wind is gentle, whispering over the bare skin of your cheeks, your arms, your legs. The smell of sea salt lingers in your nose and on your tongue. “I’m not bored,” you say.

With a shy sort of smile he tells you more, how he used to spend hours in the museums in Oldtown, looking at exhibits on Dorne, Essos and Valyria, the papers he read, the cultural memory and the dissonance. “History and heritage, when you think about them, are inherently vague concepts,” he says, “because they’re all based on claims and narratives that are difficult to determine and if they are clear cut, they’re biased. So how do we find the truth? How do we know that what we’re claiming is the right story is actually accurate?” You find yourself watching the parts of him you usually do. He speaks with his hands, indicating and gesturing and moving them randomly when he’s trying to think of a word or explain himself. Occasionally he runs his fingers through his hair or rubs his chin. And his single eye is wide, looking up as he pieces together a thought, looking back to you so he knows you’re still listening.

“But after all that, you went and trained to be an accountant?” you ask.

“You should have seen the look on my father’s face when I told him I wanted to do a masters in museum studies. So yeah, accounting it was.”

It makes you sad, but you don’t want to tell him that. The entire time you’ve been here you’ve never seen Aemond so animated, talking about something he seems to love.

“What about you? What are your big life plans?” he says.

“Anything but accounting.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I bet.”

“I’ll do a masters eventually, but I want to work for a little bit. I’ll start applying for jobs when I’m home.”

“In King’s Landing?”

“Yeah.” You look back up at the dark stone of the cliff, the layers and straight lines, the tops of the castle’s turrets just visible from the shore. “Yeah, yeah I think there’s so much pressure to find something to do. I mean, I was trying to focus on my dissertation and my exams, and I kept having these weird moments where I’d think, what’s the point? I don’t have a job ready to go. I don’t have a place on a masters course. I don’t have any plans to travel or volunteer at an orphanage in Meereen. It was like there was a timer going off in my brain and if I didn’t make something of my life before my exams were over, well it was all going to be a waste.” Now you’re the one moving your hands mindlessly, and you don’t know why but saying it all out loud makes you nervous. “Sometimes I feel like I’m running out of time.”

You look back at Aemond and realise you’ve stopped walking. Somewhere along the beach the dogs bark and splash in the shallowest part of the water. Aemond is watching you. He still has his hands in his pockets, his lips curled into a vague smile. “You have plenty of time, don’t worry,” he says.

It suddenly strikes you what Alicent had mentioned, about him moving back to King’s Landing.

Without stepping away from him you take a mental note of him, your eyes glancing up and down. You want to remember his silhouette, his posture and how he stands, the way he angles his chin, the way he likes to hold his hands behind his back, the joggers and the shape of his torso though his t-shirt. You think you could recognise him at a brief glance, a single body in a crowded city. You think you’d find him.

Aemond meets your eye and raises his brow.

You smile slightly to fein innocent interest. “We’ll be neighbours, we might see each other wandering around the city.”

But you realise you’ve made a mistake. His amusement starts to fade from his face, his shoulders stiffening. He turns and puts his middle finger and thumb in his mouth to whistle the dogs. They both freeze and bound back towards you. “Tide will be coming in soon,” he says to you.

He has Vhagar and Sunfyre on their leads again. By the time you come back to the path on the cliff the sky is a dull shade of dark blue. The castle looms in darkness and the light comes from within, golden through all of its windows.

“I’m sorry if I was a bit of a downer,” you say.

“You’re fine,” Aemond says. Your steps sound in perfect time along the gravel, up to the front steps. Vhagar and Sunfyre huff and pant, pulling on their leads and eager for a rest.

You reach the door and Aemond opens it. Down the hall one of the butlers is waiting to take the dogs.

“It’s just, I thought we were getting on.”

“We are,” Aemond mutters. “Do you think we are?”

It’s hard to tell with Aemond. He’s polite when he needs to be, easily irritated around his siblings. He’s so calm and composed, but you can see it in his eye when he’s thinking– you just don’t know what. But then there are moments like this, when you think you’ve scratched the surface, when his gaze lingers on you and his eye is soft but intent. When he brings you a coffee in the morning, when he tells you about his favourite book and the things he wishes he’d done with his life.

You’re standing in the entrance hall. Dragonstone is alive, filled with people and distant sounds. Beyond the ancient walls the wind picks up and the tide is coming in. If you took one step closer to Aemond, your navel would be pressed against his.

“I want us to get on,” you say.

“Me too.”

“And I thought we were getting somewhere.”

“Maybe we are,” he says. “I liked this, you’re a good listener.”

“I don’t get that a lot.”

“Do you not?”

“Well I suppose it helps if the person speaking has something interesting to say.”

“Oh,” he says with a little nod, “I thought you were going to say you just liked me that much.”

“That helps too.”

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punkshort · 3 months ago

Text

Broken

Thank you anon for this request!

An I Know Who You Are one-shot

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel finds out you got hurt on patrol.

Warnings: Joel POV, language, allusions to smut, descriptions of injuries/blood, amnesia, angst

WC: 2.5K

When Joel had knocked on Maria's door that morning, he still wore a small smile on his face as images of your perfect morning flashed across his eyes. The way your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he flexed his hips, the breathy sounds you made in his ear, how tight you felt wrapped around his cock.

At that point in his life, he assumed he was not meant for happiness. He had been through too much. The world threw everything it had at him and he crumbled. He let it ruin him and forge him into a cold, distant shell of who he once was.

And then he met you.

You were like a beam of light in an otherwise dark world. A breath of fresh air in a prison cell. A beautiful, yellow flower that grew amongst the disastrous landscape surrounding him. He couldn't help but be drawn to you. To want to lose himself in you, if you'd let him. And against all odds, you wanted him too.

You wanted him, too.

What were the chances? Finding love in the world before was nearly impossible. Once he found you, he began to wonder for the first time if all his suffering had meaning. If everything terrible and rotten that happened to him was all pushing him along on a path to find you.

Maria swung the door open with Violet wrapped around her hip and she grinned.

"You look pretty chipper this morning."

Joel immediately wiped the smile off his face and replaced it with a frown. He preferred to reserve that side of himself just for you.

"Tommy said y'need the dresser looked at?"

She nodded and stepped to the side so he could enter. He toed off his boots and glanced around. Jackson didn't have much, but the community did well with what they had, including toys for kids. Last he heard, the town had a monthly rotation of toys for all the little ones so everyone got to have a turn with the best ones.

He made a mental note to look for some new ones when he was outside the walls next.

"It's Violet's dresser," Maria explained, shifting his niece on her hip and leading him towards the back of the house. "Caught her climbing it last week, nearly gave me a heart attack."

She flicked on the light to Violet's room and made a face when she looked at the broken drawers.

"Well, better the dresser broke than the kid," he said, crouching down to get a better look.

"Do you think you can fix it?"

He gave the other drawers a tug, testing them to make sure they weren't damaged as well before standing with a groan.

"I'll have to make new drawers, this wood's busted, but yeah. Anythin' that's broken, I can fix it."

Maria gasped excitedly and looked at Violet, eyes wide and mouth spread into a huge smile. "Did you hear that? Uncle Joel's gonna fix your dresser, baby!"

He couldn't help but smile when Violet said, "thank you," with some prompting from Maria, of course.

"You're welcome. Just don't go climbin' on it when I'm done."

Joel spent the rest of the morning at the woodshed collecting scraps of two by fours that he could use to create two dresser drawers from scratch. At first, he thought he was in over his head. In a different life with all the right tools, he could have done this task without breaking a sweat.

"'Anythin' that's broken, I can fix it'," he scoffed, repeating his earlier words under his breath with a shake of his head. "The hell was I thinkin'?"

But he used what he had at his disposal, even if it meant using an axe to cut the right pieces of wood for the job instead of an electric saw. With a little patience and some thinking outside the box, he finally collected all the supplies he needed in a wheelbarrow and began his trek back to Tommy's house.

"Hey, before you get started, come in and have something to eat," Maria called from the window. He nodded and shrugged off his flannel, leaving it draped over the wheelbarrow before heading inside.

When he walked into the kitchen, he was greeted with a sandwich and some lemonade on the kitchen table next to Violet, who was nibbling on some fruit and toast and singing along to some children's songs playing from a radio.

"It's all I can get her to eat lately," Maria explained when she said down across from him. "She's growing into a picky eater and it's freaking killing me."

"Mama, bad word," Violet warned with her little chubby finger pointed straight up in the air. Joel chuckled and took a bite of his sandwich.

"I didn't say a bad word, baby, it just sounded like a bad word," she said, then once Violet looked away, she rolled her eyes at Joel and mouthed she hears everything.

He ate mostly in silence, half listening to Violet's music, half thinking about how he was going to tackle the next phase of his project when Maria spoke again.

"So, you think you guys'll end up having one of these?" she asked, casually nodding towards Violet. He glanced up at her in surprise before shifting his eyes to his niece.

"Uh, well..." he nervously scratched the back of his neck as he considered her question. It wasn't something you hadn't talked about but he had been thinking a lot more about it since Violet was born. His mind was screaming absolutely not, it's not safe, it's careless and irresponsible. He couldn't protect Sarah, how could he protect a newborn or keep a toddler from having a tantrum and attracting raiders or clickers?

But then Violet squealed with delight when a berry squished between her fingers and he felt that pull in his chest that he'd been trying to ignore for the past year.

"Dunno. Maybe one day," he finally told her.

"Gonna make an honest woman of her first?" Maria asked as she cleaned up Violet's hands.

"Don't think that's really our thing," Joel replied. And it wasn't. Well, not really. He had a hell of a time trying to settle you down in the first place. He couldn't imagine what the idea of marriage would do to you. And that didn't bother him. At this point, it didn't really matter. You were his, and he was yours, and that's just how it would always be.

After he helped Maria clean up lunch, he headed back outside. The sun was shining but the temperature was comfortable while he worked. And once he had all his supplies and a plan, everything came together rather quickly. Which was good because you and Tommy would be due back from patrol any minute and he very much wanted to relax with you the rest of the day and maybe tend to the garden if either of you had any energy left.

He was just finishing up the drawers and about to take them inside when he heard Tommy shouting his name. Before he even turned around, Joel's blood ran cold. He knew that tone. Something was wrong.

He swiveled around, his face already ghostly pale, knowing and bracing for the inevitable yet he still held out hope and swept his gaze around, hoping and fucking praying he would spot you.

"Joel, c'mon," Tommy panted, swinging his arm as he began to jog back in the opposite direction. Joel grabbed his blue flannel and raced after him, his blood pressure skyrocketing.

"Is she bit?"

Tommy shook his head and Joel felt his heart slow, but it was short lived when he saw the look on his brother's face.

"Is she hurt?"

"She hit her head," Tommy said, pushing people out of the way as they made their way to the infirmary. "She's awake but somethin' ain't right."

"What'dya mean? If she's awake after a head injury, that's gotta be good, right?"

Tommy cast him a forlorn look as they reached the steps of the building. "She can't remember."

Joel frowned. "Can't remember what?"

Tommy's eyes shifted around as they paused for a moment on the stairs. "She can't remember... any of it. The outbreak. This town... nothin'."

Joel swallowed and dropped his chin to his chest. He was grateful you were alive, grateful you weren't seriously injured, but this? This was not something he expected.

"So you're sayin' she don't remember me?"

Tommy's silence was all he needed to know. Joel's chest tightened and he felt his legs begin to shake. This wasn't real. He just saw you a few hours ago. He just fucked you a few hours ago. He was just talking to Maria about your future together... how could this be happening?

"Maybe..." he began, then pinched his eyes shut when he felt the swell of anxiety rise and squeeze his throat. "Maybe she just needs to see me."

"Joel, we gotta be careful 'bout this," Tommy warned, "she's real spooked. I almost couldn't get her to come back with me. She was talkin' 'bout goin' home and findin' her family-"

Joel's face crumpled. "You're fuckin' with me, right?" he croaked, blinking back tears. Tommy averted his gaze and shook his head, giving Joel a moment. He collapsed on the bottom step and hung his head between his knees, trying to focus on taking deep breaths and clearing his vision, but he could feel it. He felt it all those years ago when Sarah died in his arms and he felt it again: the shock that melted into despair which inevitably morphed into white hot rage.

"Joel..." Tommy said lowly, picking up on the shift in his brother's eyes.

"I gotta see her."

He stood and spun around so fast, Tommy hardly had time to react. Joel was halfway down the hallway through the building, kicking in all the doors before Tommy caught up, shouting at him to stop, begging him to slow down.

Then Nick rounded the corner, spotting Joel and Tommy.

"Stop!" Nick said firmly, but Joel just shoved him out of the way and barreled forward. He spotted the exam room that had a sliver of light on underneath the door and he swung it open.

His eyes scanned you up and down, assessing you for obvious injury before looking you in the eye. You appeared fine. You looked just like yourself, like nothing had happened. He didn't even see a mark on your head from the fall.

Joel felt Nick and Tommy rush up behind him and pause, no doubt studying the two of you to see how you would react. Your eyes finally left him to look questioningly over his shoulder and Joel whispered your name.

You angrily brought your gaze back to him and furrowed your brow. "What?" you snapped.

Joel swallowed again but remained perfectly still, refusing to believe you couldn't remember him.

"You remember Joel. Right, sugar?" Tommy asked gently.

Joel knew the answer before you even shook your head. He could see it in your eyes now. They were cold and closed off and scared. You never, ever looked at him like that. Not even after he told you about the hospital.

"Is it permanent?" Joel asked Nick. When the doctor began to give what he considered a bullshit answer, the anger simmering in his veins was lit on fire. He hauled Nick off the ground and yelled something in his face but for the life of him he couldn't remember what. He was seeing red and nothing else was getting through.

That is, until Tommy shouted, let 'em go, you're scarin' her! Then he let Nick go and twisted around towards you. His brows pitched up with concern when he saw you curled up next to the bed, rocking back and forth. Without even thinking, he took a step forward to help you, but you quickly jutted a hand out.

"Don't come near me."

He froze on the spot, speechless. His heart shattered in his chest at the fear in your eye, fear he put there. He couldn't go back to a life without you, he needed you.

"I'm sorry, baby."

And you flinched. You flinched at the term of endearment and the crack in his chest grew so wide, he was afraid he would fall in.

Tommy's voice broke the tension in the room. "Maybe we should give you two a minute."

Instantly, you were panic stricken. Your eyes widened and you scrambled to pull yourself off the floor. Instead of looking to him for comfort, you were looking at Tommy. Begging his brother not to leave him alone with you.

Joel stepped back and sagged against the wall, his eyes fixed on the ground as he tried his best to come to terms with what was happening. All he wanted to do was pull you into his arms and take you home and it was fucking killing him.

To Tommy's credit, he tried to explain who Joel was, that he wouldn't ever harm you, not in a million years, but your chest heaved and your hands shook with fear anyway.

"Look what he just did! How can you say that?"

"Because he loves you!"

The room grew still while you panted for air and tried to process the information Tommy just gave you.

"Is that true?"

He assumed you must have been talking to him so he nodded, still unwilling to look up.

You began to apologize but the pieces of his heart were drifting further and further apart. He was losing you and he had no idea what to do.

When Nick encouraged Tommy's idea to take you home to your familiar surroundings, Joel finally looked up with a little bit of hope.

"What else can we do?" he asked Nick, knowing full well he sounded too eager and hopeful. Nick began to suggest finding objects or keepsakes with sentimental value that could trigger your memory to return, an idea that gave him a spark of optimism, but when he looked back at you, you immediately looked away.

"Can I talk to you?" you asked Tommy. The two brothers stared at one another, communicating silently. Joel knew what you were going to say, Tommy knew what you were going to say: you didn't want to go home with him. And to make matters somehow worse, you were looking to his own damn brother for comfort and safety.

Safety from him.

The thought had his blood boiling and his teeth grinding, but he knew he had to control his temper or else he would make things infinitely worse.

"I'll be outside," he said gruffly, then stormed down the hall towards the lobby.

He took advantage of the few precious minutes he had to collect his fucking thoughts and think. He couldn't let his anger get the best of him. He needed to get that under control if this was going to work. And he needed to be patient. You were meant to be and he would just have to make sure you realized that again.

He took a deep, steadying breath and closed his eyes.

He could do this. He would do whatever it took for however long it took.

Anythin' that's broken, I can fix it.

#ask #anon ask #ikwya fic #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel tlou #joel miller x you #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us game #fic request

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jmkjournalblog · 18 days ago

Text

"Soulmates" Part 1

Part 2

Pairing:Wednesday Addams x FemVampire! Reader

Summary: The Fem!reader, vampire with a penchant for dark humor and psychopathic tendencies, is sent to Nevermore Academy by her parents following an unpleasant incident involving the murder of a couple of triple students in her previous school. Despite their contrasting personalities, the reader and Wednesday form a complex bond, navigating their differences while facing challenges that threaten to keep them apart.

A/N: This text combines three chapters written at different times, so there might be slight differences in style. Also, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes))

Warnings: Shitty humor

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The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the picturesque town. It was a quaint, almost idyllic place, with its cobblestone streets and charming old buildings—a far cry from the darkness that lurked within the reader's soul. She stood at the edge of town, a lone figure amidst the bustle of the afternoon crowd. Tall and imposing, with an air of quiet confidence that set her apart from the ordinary townsfolk, she surveyed her surroundings with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

The Y/n was not here by choice. No, she had been sent—a pawn in a game she had no desire to play. Her parents, in their infinite wisdom—or perhaps, their utter lack thereof—had deemed it necessary to exile her to Nevermore Academy, a school for misfits and outcasts. It was a punishment disguised as a solution, a way to rid themselves of a daughter whose darkness they could no longer abide.

And so, here she was, alone in a town that reeked of desperation and decay, a stranger in a strange land. It was a bitter irony, she thought, that a creature such as herself—a creature of the night, born to roam the shadows—should find herself so utterly exposed in the harsh light of day. But she was not one to dwell on self-pity, nor was she inclined to mourn the loss of a home she had long outgrown. No, she would embrace this new chapter of her existence with the same ferocity that she embraced life itself.

With a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes, the Y/n turned her gaze towards the looming silhouette of Nevermore Academy, its spires reaching towards the heavens like the fingers of a long-forgotten deity. And as she took her first steps towards her new prison, she couldn't help but wonder what twisted fate awaited her within its hallowed halls.

*Y/n POV*

As I stepped into the imposing entrance hall of Nevermore Academy, I was greeted by the sight of a young girl. She was dressed in the school uniform, her blond hair falling in waves around her shoulders as she approached with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Welcome to Nevermore Academy," she said with a wry smile, extending her hand in greeting. "I'm Enid Sinclair. And you must be the new arrival."

I nodded, returning her handshake. Enid's warmth and charm were a welcome contrast to the oppressive atmosphere that hung me like a shroud.

"Nice to meet you," I replied with a forced smile. There's no point in being rude, this school is my last resort, and it's better to try to be nicer to people. "I must admit, I wasn't sure if anyone would meet me."

" I always give a tour of the school to new students, especially since you will be my roommate." A smile spread across her face. God, I wish I could be as carefree "It's going to be so much fun, you, me and Wednesday are three new best friends".

Three best friends? Well, that's one way to look at it—a trio of misfits ready to conquer the world, or at least survive sharing a room.

"Wow, lucky me," I muttered inwardly, plastering on a grin that probably looked more like a grimace. "I've always wanted to be part of a trio. How did you know?"

I forced another polite smile, masking my inner cynicism with practiced ease. "Okay, we can't stand here all day. Let's go. "

After walking around all the main areas of the school, Enid and I headed towards our room. The whole time we were walking, I couldn't shake the feeling that this place was definitely going to be interesting. Enid had her own issues, but I'd always been attracted to people who looked at the world with an unhealthy amount of optimism. Talking to her should dilute my morbid thoughts with a touch of sweet idiocy. For being alone with myself again does me no good, though it gives me a lot of pleasure.

“So, roomie, ready to see your new abode?” - Enid said with a smile, her hand resting on the doorknob. With a casual shrug, I followed her into the room.

A huge room greeted us, with beds on both sides. The left side was a riot of colors, what I would call “colorblind worst nightmare” It was a cacophony of hues that defied description. Plush toys adorned one wall. Well at least it is not dakimakura with half-naked characters from anime or furi costumes. On the other side of the room, the atmosphere was stark—black linens on the bed, a desk, and a typewriter. Its practically untouched. It felt more like a museum piece than a living space, devoid of any trace of personality. Enid had mentioned that the other girl had only recently moved in…

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY ROOM ROOM?” – Enid asked in irritation.

Her voice startling me out of my thoughts. Distractedly looking around the room, I completely missed the girl who was tearing off colored stickers from the right half of the huge window. It must be Wednesday.

“Dividing our room equally,” replied Wednesday, her voice dripping with disdain. She kicked the last of the colored paper to Enid's side for emphasis. "It looks like a rainbow vomited on your side." She finished in a calm tone, as she returned to the desk at her side of the room.

God, I love drama.

“I...” I could literally see Enid's ears steaming right now.

“Silence would be appreciated.” Wednesday spoke as she quickly cut her roommate off. "This is my writing time."

I like this school already.

“Your writing time ? ” Enid asked, raising an eyebrow.

Wednesday rolled up her sleeves as she situated herself in front of her typewriter. “I devote an hour a day to my novel. Perhaps if you did the same your vlog might be coherent.” she slides the carriage of the typewriter to the side as she continued, “I've read serial killer diaries with better punctuation.”

She read serial killer diaries? One point to the goth girl.

Enid clenched her fists “I write in my voice. It's my truth. It's what my followers love.”

“Your followers are clearly imbeciles.” Wednesday stood up from her desk as she moved infront of Enid. “They respond to your stories with insipid little pictures.”

“Uh, you mean emoji's?” a small smile appears on Enid face “It's how people express their feelings. I realize that's a foreign concept to you.”

“When I look at you, the following emojis come to mind. Rope, shovel, hole.” She continues “By the way, there are two D's in Addams." she moved back over to her desk. “If you're going to gossip about me, at least spell my name correctly.”

“Ahem”- as much as I'd love for this delightful show to continue, I can't just stand there like an idiot with things to do. I could certainly settle down nicely on my suitcase to brew some coffee and continue watching this wonderful drama, but I think sooner or later they'll notice me.

“Oh, sorry about that please, I'm just not used to this attitude. Wednesday, meet Y/n. She's going to live with us too.”

“That's okay, Enid, you can continue this lovely conversation, very intriguing actually. All I need to do is put my things somewhere and ideally lie down myself. The long drive and the splendid but somewhat drawn-out tour, has tired me out.”

Wednesday turned to me. “Nice to meet you, now if you'll excuse it’s my writing time,” she said, before turning back to her typewriter. She began methodically tapping the keys of her typewriter.

I smiled to myself, amused by the interaction. These two were definitely something else.

“Ms. Thornhill has decided that your bed will be on Wednesday's side, there's more room and the closet is close by. Bed should be arriving soon, but in the meantime, you can lay out your things, the outer two doors are yours.”

“Got it, okay then, that's what I'll do for now.”

Taking the suitcase in my hands I headed over to the closet, starting to put things away. I've always had a problem with this, not that I don't like it on the contrary, pedantically folding shirt to shirt, pants to pants, has always calmed me down. Things in the closet should look like they're on the counter of a boutique. If something doesn't look right, I can't sleep well.

Enid put on a song. I guess this is another one of God's tests for all the sins I've done. Don't get me wrong, I like music, but on rare occasions. People who play it on a regular basis to soundtrack their daily routine are the real psychopaths.

“Turn it off!” Wednesday gets up from her chair and heads over to Enid.

I couldn't help but stifle a laugh at the exchange. It was moments like this that made me grateful for immortality. Trying not to attract attention, I peeked out from behind the locker door, amused by the unfolding drama.

“This is your final warning!”

As she got too close Enid raised her hands and let out her rainbow painted nails out a claw. “Don't mess with me. This kitty’s got claws and I’m not afraid to use them.”

Suddenly the door swings open and a woman walks into the room.

“Good evening girls.” She looks around the room throwing a glance first at me and then at Wednesday. “I wanted to make sure that Wednesday and Y/n was settling in...”

She walks to the middle of the room, kicking up mud from her shoes on the wooden floor…. It drives me insane.

“I’m Ms. Thornhill, your dorm mom. Apologies, I wasn't here to greet you when you arrived. I trust Enid has given you the old Nevermore welcome.”

“She's been smothering us with hospitality, I hope to return the favor. In her sleep”.

Such unconcealed aggression, I like it.

“Enid did a great job of showing and telling me everything, thank her so much, and it's nice to meet you,” I interjected, wanting to move the conversation along.

Ms. Thornhill turned to me, offering a warm smile. “I'm very glad it went well.”

“The only thing I would like to ask about is the bed. I wouldn't really want to sleep on the floor on the first day in such a beautiful place. It would have dampened all the excitement I got out of today.”

“Oh right, the guys were supposed to bring it, but it looks like they're running late. I'll have to find them again and tell them.”

At this rate, I was going to sleep on the floor tonight.

“Ms. Thornhill, why do we need the guys? Why don't you just show me where to get it, and I'll take it from there? I think I'm strong enough to do that,” I replied with a sweet smile.

She looked at me in disbelief. I smiled a little, letting her catch a glimpse of my fangs.

“Ah, okay, I didn't realize right away. Not all vampires who are in this school have abilities such as strength or speed, so...Let's go,” she said, turning around and heading for the door. I followed her, casting a disdainful glance at the dirt left on the floor.

Who even does things like that?

Y/n POV

The walk with Ms. Thornhill was uneventful, except for her curious glances, which I pretended not to notice. She seemed… overly friendly, and her cheery disposition grated against every instinct I had. There was something unsettling in how her smile lingered just a bit too long. Still, I played the obedient new student—sweet smiles, polite nods, not even a hint of fangs. It wasn’t hard to find the storage area, cluttered with dusty furniture and half-forgotten relics from who knows how long ago. With little more than a gesture, I hefted the bedframe onto my shoulder, making it look far easier than it should have been.

As I walked back through the hallways of Nevermore, I couldn’t help but scan the dimly lit corridors and high arched ceilings. This place was dripping with history and secrets—I could practically taste it in the air. I wondered what kind of skeletons were hiding in these closets and whether any of them were literal. The thought amused me enough to crack a smile, which I quickly smothered when I caught sight of the door to our room.

Returning to find Enid attempting to cheerfully hang more decorations—and failing spectacularly in the face of Wednesday’s withering glares—was almost worth the trouble. Almost. I stepped into the room, set down the bedframe with a soft thud, and stretched slightly, letting out a satisfied sigh that earned me a sideways glance from both girls. I raised an eyebrow at Wednesday, who, naturally, looked unimpressed.

“You’re back,” she stated flatly, her attention already returning to the clack of typewriter keys. “I’d begun hoping you’d gotten lost and decided to stay that way.”

I grinned, leaning casually against the wall as I met her icy gaze. “Oh, did you miss me already, Wednesday? I’m touched.” I let my words drip with playful mockery, watching for her reaction.

She didn’t even pause her typing. “I don’t miss nuisances. They have a way of making themselves known whether one wishes it or not.”

“Well, it’s good to know I’ve made an impression,” I replied lightly, crossing my arms. “I do so hate being forgettable.”

There it was—a slight pause in her keystrokes. Barely perceptible, but I saw it. Victory. She resumed typing, but I could see the muscles in her jaw tense, and that alone was worth every ounce of effort. Behind me, Enid let out an exaggerated groan.

“Can you two not flirt for five minutes?” Enid asked, half-exasperated and half-amused as she tossed another garish pillow onto her bed.

“Flirting?” I said innocently, a hand coming to my chest. “Enid, I think you’ve misunderstood me. I was simply trying to have a civil conversation.”

“Your idea of civil conversation seems to involve needling people until they bleed,” Wednesday remarked coolly, finally glancing my way. “I’m sure you’re quite proud of yourself.”

“Oh, very,” I said, flashing a grin that showed just the hint of fang. “But I only needle people who are interesting. Take that as a compliment.”

Her expression didn’t change, but there was a spark in her dark eyes. A dangerous, calculating spark. “Compliments from you hold about as much value as a counterfeit coin. Useless and possibly diseased.”

I tilted my head, letting my smile widen. “And yet you’ve pocketed it anyway.”

“Enough!” Enid interjected, throwing her hands in the air. “I’m already regretting my decision to be roommates with either of you.”

“I thought we were best friends, Enid?” I teased, giving her a mock-wounded look. She rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself.

As the brief silence fell, Wednesday turned back to her typewriter, the clack of the keys resuming with renewed vigor. I moved to finish setting up my space, feeling her presence keenly even as she pretended, I didn’t exist. But I knew better. She’d noticed me, whether she liked it or not. And I intended to keep it that way.

I focused on arranging the few belongings I had, keeping one eye on my two roommates. Enid flitted around, determined to keep the atmosphere upbeat despite the thickening tension, while Wednesday remained stoic, her fingers tapping out words with relentless precision. The mechanical clatter of the typewriter filled the room, a fitting soundtrack to our peculiar dynamic.

As I stowed the last of my clothes, I moved to the shared windowsill. Half of it, Wednesday’s half, was bare and colorless, just like the rest of her side. I dragged a finger across the divider she’d drawn—black tape down the middle, stark and deliberate. When she’d divided the room, she hadn’t left any margin for negotiation. That was fine. I wasn’t one to negotiate either.

“Did you choose the décor yourself?” I asked, tone light but teasing. “It really says a lot about you.”

The typewriter stopped mid-sentence, and her head turned, her expression a mask of cold detachment. “If by ‘a lot’ you mean ‘nothing,’ then you are correct. My surroundings reflect my disregard for frivolity.”

I leaned back against the windowsill, arms crossed, giving her a slow once-over. “Yes, I see that. Stark, somber, a touch of morbidity… What’s next, Wednesday? Iron bars over your window? A ‘keep out’ sign? Or is this already your version of a welcome mat?”

“Those who need signs to warn them of danger are already too foolish to avoid it,” she retorted, her voice like ice. She didn’t look away, and I felt the weight of her attention settle on me like a dare.

“Danger? That sounds intriguing.” I stepped closer, deliberately closing the space between us. “But I’d rather find out for myself than take your word for it.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought she’d lash out. Instead, she simply pushed her chair back with a quiet scrape and stood. “Are you always this insufferable?” she asked, stepping closer herself. We were nearly face-to-face now, her glare as sharp as a blade.

“Only when I’m provoked,” I said, my voice softening, the challenge in it unmistakable. “Or intrigued.”

For a heartbeat, I thought she might reach for one of her knives. It wouldn’t have surprised me. But then she stepped back, and the flicker of emotion was gone, replaced by a cold, composed exterior. “Intrigue is a fleeting distraction. You’ll tire of it soon enough.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that,” I murmured, watching her turn her back to me and return to her typewriter. I had to give it to her; she was disciplined. She’d withdrawn from the confrontation as if it hadn’t fazed her, as if the moment hadn’t happened. But it had.

Enid broke the silence, plopping down onto her bed with a frustrated sigh. “Why can’t we all just get along? Isn’t this supposed to be like… the beginning of a beautiful friendship?”

“I don’t recall asking for friendship,” Wednesday replied without looking up.

“And I don’t recall rejecting it,” I added with a smirk, earning a scoff from Wednesday.

“See?” Enid grinned, ever the optimist. “Progress! I’m telling you, we’re going to be the best trio ever. Just give it time.”

“Optimism is a fool’s currency,” Wednesday stated, resuming her typing. “It’s usually spent too freely and leaves the owner penniless.”

“Good thing I have plenty to spare,” Enid shot back, unfazed. She turned to me. “Y/n, you’ll see. She’s all doom and gloom now, but she’ll warm up eventually.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” I said, letting the implication linger. “Though I have to admit, I like her just the way she is.”

Wednesday’s fingers paused for a fraction of a second, and my grin widened. There it was again—the tell that she was paying attention, even if she pretended otherwise.

Enid reached for her phone, likely ready to drown out the tension with music or social media, but she paused, her expression curious. “So, Y/n… what brought you to Nevermore?”

“Exile,” I said simply, my voice taking on a darker edge. “I’m here because my family thought it would be safer to have me… away.”

Enid blinked, unsure whether I was joking. “Safer for who?”

“Exactly.” I allowed a flicker of my fangs to show, then shrugged. “But this place isn’t so bad. It might even grow on me.”

“It’s full of disappointments,” Wednesday said coolly, not missing a beat. “Don’t let the shadows fool you.”

“Disappointments keep things interesting,” I replied, stepping back toward my side of the room. “And I’ve always been drawn to interesting things.”

I felt her eyes on me even after she turned back to her writing. This was going to be fun. Dangerous, maybe—but undeniably fun.

The next morning, the air was crisp, and a thin layer of fog crept around the gothic towers of Nevermore Academy. I found myself sitting on the edge of my freshly delivered bed, lacing up my boots. The rest of the room was quiet, but I could feel a watchful presence. Turning slightly, I caught Wednesday’s reflection in the mirror; she was silently observing me while pretending to prepare her things. Her eyes were intense as ever, like she was sizing me up, waiting for me to make the first move. It amused me, and I made no effort to hide my grin.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I teased, breaking the tension in the room.

She blinked, a slow, deliberate motion that barely disguised her disdain. “Please spare me your nauseating pleasantries.”

“Why, Wednesday, it almost sounds like you didn’t sleep well.” I stood, stretching. “I’d say I’m hurt by that, but I do recall you typing well into the night. Plotting murder, perhaps?”

“If I were plotting murder, you wouldn’t have woken up,” she replied with a deadpan expression.

I laughed softly, loving how quick she was. “Noted. I’ll try to be more deserving of your mercy.” I leaned closer as I passed her on the way to the door. “For now.”

“Don’t push your luck,” she muttered, though there was a glint in her eyes that suggested she was far from indifferent. Oh, this was definitely going to be an interesting place.

The hallway was bustling with other students, each an oddity in their own right—shapeshifters, psychics, sirens, and more. I navigated the throng with ease, catching glimpses of curious eyes that lingered just a moment too long. Whispers followed me. New arrivals always attracted attention, and I wasn’t exactly the type to blend in.

“Y/n!” Enid’s cheery voice pierced the noise, and she bounded over like a hyperactive puppy, practically glowing with excitement. “How did you sleep? Oh! You’re going to love breakfast here—it’s the best part of the day!”

“I’m surprised you managed to sleep at all with the ambiance,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “I half-expected bats to swoop down from the rafters.

“Oh, they’ve tried.” She shrugged with a wide smile. “But seriously, come on! The sausages are to die for.”

I followed her, letting Enid’s chatter wash over me. She was like a rainbow in this dreary place, and, strangely, I found her optimism a welcome contrast. Wednesday walked a few steps behind us, silent and brooding as ever. It was almost comforting.

The cafeteria was a storm of voices, laughter, and clinking trays. Enid led me through the throng of students, her energy a stark contrast to the brooding architecture of Nevermore. We found a spot at a small table near one of the tall, stained-glass windows. As I settled in, a presence made itself known—a girl with sleek black hair, crimson-tinted sunglasses, and a confident air that turned heads without effort. She walked up, holding her tray like she owned the place.

“Mind if I join?” she asked, but it was rhetorical. She was already sitting down, her eyes on me.

Enid perked up. “Oh! Y/n, this is Yoko Tanaka. Yoko, meet Y/n. She’s new.”

“Yoko,” I repeated, my gaze trailing over her with casual interest. I extended a hand, playing along. “Nice to meet you.”

Her grip was cool, steady. She didn’t let go right away, and her lips curled into a smile. “The pleasure’s all mine. So, Enid’s newest roommate, huh? Welcome to the madhouse.”

I returned her smile, undeterred by the playful challenge in her tone. “Thanks. From what I’ve seen, I’m going to fit right in.”

“Really?” Yoko’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the table. “It takes a lot to fit in here. But something tells me you’ll manage.” She tilted her head slightly. “You’re not... ordinary, are you?”

I leaned back, crossing my arms. “You have no idea.”

“Oh, I might,” she replied, the light catching the edge of her sunglasses. “Most newcomers are easy to read. But you? You’re a little... more.”

Wednesday, who had been quietly picking at her food, suddenly spoke up. “If you two are done exchanging veiled flirtations, there are more important matters at hand.”

I turned my gaze to her, a smirk playing on my lips. “You know, Wednesday, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

“Jealousy is a pointless emotion,” she said flatly, though her eyes seemed to darken. “I simply despise wasted time.”

“Oh, so you’d rather spend your time... constructively?” I asked, feigning deep interest. “Writing your next bestseller or analyzing the cafeteria’s murder statistics?”

She set her fork down with deliberate precision. “Both. I find productivity in all things. Unlike some people who waste their breath on hollow banter.”

“See?” I leaned forward conspiratorially, turning to Yoko. “This is what I get for trying to lighten the mood.”

Yoko laughed, a rich, throaty sound that drew a few glances. “You two are something. But don’t worry—I enjoy the kind of banter that makes the daylight hours less boring.”

“Is that why you’re here?” I asked, deciding to prod a little. “To liven things up for me?”

She pushed her sunglasses up, revealing striking eyes that glimmered with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just trying to figure you out. Vampires don’t often get surprises, you know.”

“Vampires?” I arched an eyebrow, pretending not to know. “Is that what we’re calling ourselves these days?”

Enid jumped in with a cheerful clap of her hands. “Y/n’s also a vampire, Yoko! You two should totally hang out. Maybe you can teach her the ropes!”

Yoko’s smile widened, showing a hint of fang. “Oh, I’d be delighted. As long as she doesn’t get scared too easily.”

I matched her smile, unflinching. “Scared? That’s not really my thing.”

“Good.” Yoko’s voice dropped, her gaze sharpening. “Because there are plenty of things in Nevermore that will test your limits. I’d hate for you to miss out.”

Before I could respond, Wednesday stood up abruptly, gathering her tray. “This conversation has officially crossed into drivel. Some of us have standards.”

“Leaving already?” I asked, enjoying the way her expression never wavered.

“Unlike you, I have productive tasks awaiting me.” She paused, her dark eyes meeting mine. “Try not to lower the collective intelligence of the room while I’m gone.”

I grinned. “I’ll do my best.”

She left without another word, and for a moment, I could have sworn there was a hint of amusement hidden beneath her icy exterior. Yoko watched her go, then turned back to me, a knowing look on her face. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Good,” I replied. “I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.”

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harknessxo · 1 month ago

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Paring: Serial-killer!Stalker!Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: You get to have your happy ending with Agatha in the end.

Warnings; smut, fingers, cunnilingus (A receiving), strap on use, mommy kink, praise/degradation kink.

Word Count: 5.3k

Part 1, Part 2

A/n: A lot of people wanted a part three and here it is. This is the final part!

Monica was outside like she said she would when they released you. The car ride was a bit awkward especially after your outburst. She would glance over at you every now and then, not sure what to say. She was worried about you and the fact that you seemed to have some sort of attachment to Agatha. She knew that you were a good person and that you wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose but she couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease.

“Y/n…can I ask you something?”

“Mhm.” She hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“Do you really love her?”

“I…” you paused and remembered what Agatha had told you, “No, no I don’t. I don’t know what was going through my head. I’m sorry for my outburst,” you lied, chuckling nervously. She let out a sigh of relief, her grip on the steering wheel loosening.

“Thank god. I was worried about you. You seemed so…possessed.”

“Hah…I guess I just needed some time to process everything….”

“I understand. It’s a lot to take in. But I need you to promise me something, okay?”

“What’s that?”

“Promise me that you will go see a therapist. I know a good one in town. She helped a friend of mine a while ago.” She could tell you were acting a bit. She just wanted what was best for you.

“I…I promise.”

“Good. I just want to make sure you’re okay. Here,” she took out a paper card from her purse, “This is her number.” You took the card from her and read out the name.

“Christina Raynor.” Monica nodded.

“Yeah, she’s a good therapist. I think you’ll like her. Just give her a call and set up an appointment, okay?”

“Will do.” Just as you finished your sentence, she pulled up in front of your house and put the car in park.

“Alright, we’re here. Do you need me to come inside with you?”

“No, it's fine. She’s in jail now.” You joked uncomfortably and she chuckled.

“You’re right. She’s locked up tight. I still can’t believe she got away with all those murders for so long…”

“Me neither,” you didn’t like the thought of talking bad about Agatha so you just hugged her to get it over with, “Thank you, Monica.” She hugged you back, squeezing you tightly.

“You’re welcome. Just take care of yourself, okay? And call me if you need anything.”

You bid her goodbye and went inside your house. It felt so empty, you wanted Agatha to be here with you. It was 6 pm by now and you were nowhere near tired. You decided to sit on your couch, exactly where Agatha had sat earlier that day, and watch some tv. It was hard to find anything to watch, almost every channel talking about the serial killer being put behind bars. It made your blood boil.

The news kept going on and on about Agatha and her crimes. Some of them were praising the police for finally catching her, others were speculating on how long she would get in prison. You tried to change the channel but it seemed like every channel was talking about her. It made you miss her even more. The way she touched you, the way she kissed you, the way she spoke to you. You missed everything about her.

Then you remembered the brooch. You took it out of your pocket and looked at it. Brushing your fingers over the symbol on it. You didn’t know what it meant but you knew it meant a lot to Agatha. You had no idea why it was so important to Agatha but just looking at it made you feel a strange connection to her. It almost felt like she was right next to you, watching over you with her cold, blue eyes.

The following days felt like torture. You had scheduled some appointments with the therapist Monica told you about like you promised. She seemed to see right through your act but you didn’t give in.

Every time you would go into her office, she could sense that you were lying to her. You would tell her how happy you were to be free from Agatha and how much you were enjoying your freedom but there was a part of you that missed her. Christina could see it in your eyes, even if you tried to hide it. It was like there was a void inside of you that only Agatha could fill.

“Alright, let’s try this once again, what happened the morning after Wanda’s murder?” Christian asked. She’s been asking the same questions every session trying to get something out of you.

“This again?” You sighed.

“Yes, again. You’ve been dodging the question every time I ask you about it.”

“I woke up, Monica called me to look at the news and I saw Agatha was the killer. I cried like everyone does then someone rang my doorbell. I went to look and simply found a flower on the floor and then Agatha kidnapped me. Happy?” She jotted something down on her notepad before looking up at you again.

“Who left the flower on your doorstep?”

“Agatha.” You answered flatly and she leaned back in her chair, eyeing you carefully.

“And why do you think she left a flower?”

“I don’t know…” you acted dumb. You knew why she left it. She left it as a way to apologize for killing Wanda. Christina sighed, clearly getting frustrated with you.

“Y/n, you can’t just act like you don’t know. I need you to be honest with me.”

“I am. I don’t know why she left it.” She closed her notepad, crossing her arms.

“You do realize that lying to your therapist isn’t going to get you anywhere, right?”

“Look, I’m only here because I made a promise to a friend. I am fine.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling deeply.

“Being ‘fine’ and needing therapy are two completely different things. Clearly, you have something that you’re not telling me and I think it has something to do with the fact that you have developed Stockholm syndrome and you choose to ignore it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I could never love someone who killed my best friend,” you lied. Saying that sentence almost physically hurt you. Christina chuckled, shaking her head.

“That’s exactly the problem, sweetheart. You do love her. Whether you admit it to yourself or not, you do.”

“Alright, are we done here?” You were starting to get agitated.

“Yes, we’re done for today. But I’m telling you, the sooner you accept your feelings for her, the easier it’ll be to deal with this whole situation.”

You simply gathered your things and left. The whole day your thoughts would go to Agatha. Was she actually coming for you? Did she actually love you? Was everyone else right? You shook your head, trying not to let those thoughts get to you. The drive home was miserable, you dreaded go back to an empty house. Everyday you hoped Agatha would be there when you got back but it’s been almost a week and no luck.

You arrived at your house and opened the door, being greeted by the same deafening silence that had plagued your home the past few days. It was late now, nearing 8pm, and you hadn’t eaten anything yet. You sighed as you closed the door behind you, dropping your bag and keys on the floor. You were hungry but you had no energy to cook.

“What’s got you so gloomy, sweet girl?” A voice suddenly said. Your head almost instantly turned towards the direction of the voice.

“Aggie?” She chuckled as she emerged from the shadows, stepping into the light. She was leaning against the wall with a smirk on her face, extending her arms outwards.

“Did you miss me?” You ran into her arms, clinging to her like she was your lifeline while tears spilled down your cheeks.

“I’ve missed you so much,” you sobbed. She was quick to wrap her arms around you, pulling you against her body as you clung to her. She gently stroked your hair, running her fingers through it as she shushed you.

“Shh… it’s okay, baby girl. I’m here now.”

“How did you get out?” You asked, curiously. She smirked again, tilting your chin up so that you were looking at her.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that but we must hurry. They will be looking for me soon and they will most likely come here first.”

“Okay…oh!” you stopped abruptly, searching for something in your pocket, “I kept it safe like you asked,” you smiled, handing her the brooch. She smiled when you handed her the brooch, taking it from your hand and inspecting it carefully. A look of relief washed over her face as she saw that it was undamaged.

“Good girl…” she put the brooch on your shirt, “I want you to keep it. Now, be a good girl and get your things. We need to leave before they come.”

“Okay!” You were about to run upstairs but she grabbed your arm before you could go any further.

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, mommy.” Agatha smiled, pulling you flush against her again. She put a finger under your chin, making you look up at her.

“You're so perfect for me, baby, I can’t wait to have you all to myself again.”

“Please kiss me!” You begged. She chuckled, amused by how needy you were already. She leaned down and captured your lips in a deep, hungry kiss, her hands grabbing your hips to pull you even closer to her. You pathetically melted into her. You would have fallen if it wasn’t for her hands on your hips holding you up. She felt you go weak in her arms and she broke the kiss for a moment, just to whisper against your lips.

“So sensitive, baby. You’re so desperate for me but let’s get your things,” she started leading you upstairs so you could pack essentials. After all your things were safely packed, she led you to a black SUV outside. You were confused on how she was able to get a hold of it but decided to not ask questions. She opened the passenger side door and gently pushed you into the seat before going around to the driver’s side. She started the car and pulled out of your street, starting the long drive to what was meant to be your new home.

“Where are we going, mommy?”

“A place I have set up just for us, sweetheart. Somewhere no one will find us.” She reached over and placed her hand on your thigh, gently squeezing it as she drove. She was clearly enjoying the fact that you were already calling her mommy again.

“You promise? I don’t want to have to go through that again. Everyone kept telling me that you were using me and that you didn’t actually love me-”

“Don’t listen to those fools, baby. I love you more than you could ever know. They’re just jealous of the fact that you belong to me and no one else.” She scoffed at your words, her grip on your thigh tightening.

“Really?”

“Of course, baby girl. I’ve loved you since the day I laid eyes on you and I’ll continue to love you for as long as I live. No one will ever take you away from me. You’re mine.”

“And you’re mine?” She chuckled at your question, a small smirk on her face.

“All yours, sweetheart. You own me just as much as I own you.” You smiled sweetly at her, intertwining your hand with hers.

“My best girl,” she said, kissing the back of your hand before continuing to drive in comfortable silence. The drive was quite long but you didn’t care as long as you had Agatha. By the time you arrived at your new home in the middle of nowhere, the sun had begun to rise. The house was in the middle of the woods, far away from any signs of civilization. There was a lake not too far away from it and it was beautiful. Agatha parked the car and got out, walking around to open your door for you and holding out her hand for you to take.

“Aggie, this is beautiful,” you gushed, looking at the house and its surroundings. She chuckled as she took your hand and pulled you out of the car, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you against her side. She looked at the house and then back at you, a satisfied smile on her face.

“I knew you’d like it, baby. I picked it just for you.”

“How were you even able to get it?” She smirked at your question, giving your hip a squeeze as she started walking towards the front door.

“You don’t want to know, sweetheart.” You just nodded in response and she handed you the keys so you would be the first to go in. She watched as you opened the door, her eyes glued to you the whole time. You were practically buzzing with excitement as she stepped inside after you, shutting the door behind her and pinning you against it.

“Mommy?” Your voice trembled with anticipation. Her eyes darkened as you called her that again. She pushed herself up against you, her body pressed against yours as she looked down at you.

“Do you want mommy's fingers?”

“Mhm!” You nodded your head desperately. She smirked again, loving how desperate you were already. She grabbed your chin and tilted your head up, forcing you to look at her.

“Tell me, did you touch yourself while I was away?”

“No. Only you can.”

“Fuck, angel. I couldn’t have asked for a better girl,” she claimed your lips, shoving her tongue in your mouth. You tried to keep up with her pace but it was difficult when she was so hungry for you. She was relentless, her tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as her hands roamed your body. She pushed her knee between your legs, applying pressure against your core.

“Hmph!” She grinned against your lips, pulling away to nip at your jawline as she continued to apply pressure to your core with her knee. Her hands slid down to your hips, gripping them tightly and holding you in place against the door.

“Mommy, please!” You needed her and fast.

“Please what, baby? Use your words,” She teased, nipping at your neck before sucking on it, determined to leave marks all over your skin.

“I need you,” you whined, your hands gripping onto her shirt. She groaned at your whine, her resolve breaking as she picked you up and carried you further into the house. She was still marking up your neck as she made her way towards the bedroom, leaving a trail of marks behind as she went.

Once you were in the bedroom, she placed you on the bed and the both of you scattered to take your clothes off. She wasted no time in removing her clothes, her eyes roaming over your body hungrily as you did the same. She quickly climbed onto the bed and pinned you down, straddling your waist as she leaned down and continued marking up your skin, making sure to cover every inch of your body with hickeys.

“S-stop teasing,” you whined pathetically, trying to push her down to where you need her most.

“Nuh uh,” she pinned your hands above your head, “Do I have to tie you up again, hm? I bet you would like that.”

“But mommy-” you sobbed.

“No buts, baby girl. I’m in control here, remember? I’ll do whatever I want with you,” she said in a dominant tone, her grip on your wrists tightening as she nipped at your earlobe.

Tears of agony rolled down your cheeks as you tried to grind your hips against her for any sort of relief. Not having her for a week was absolute torture. She smiled at your tears, seeing you so desperate was a sight she would never get tired of. She chuckled as you tried to grind against her, holding your hips down to stop you from moving.

“Aw, is someone being a needy little girl? You really can’t wait for me to touch you, can you?”

“I need you so bad,” you sobbed again.

“I know, sweetheart. But I want to hear you beg for it. I want to hear you beg for mommy’s fingers,” she cooed in your ear, her voice low and sultry as she continued to hold your wrists and hips down with ease.

“Pretty please? I’ll be good, mommy!”

“God, baby, you sound so pretty when you beg,” she let go of your wrist and instead gripped to the back of your neck, pulling at your hair, “Say it again,” she demanded.

“Pretty please?” you said again, this time with an innocent tone knowing it would make her spiral. Agatha let out a low groan at your tone. She could feel her resolve crumbling once again as she looked down at you. You were too cute and too desperate and it was driving her insane.

“You know I can’t say no to you,” she slipped her fingers inside you without warning. She cursed under her breath as she felt how wet you were, her fingers easily sliding in. She started to move them slowly, curling them against your walls as she watched your expression intently. She watched as your brows frowned in pleasure, her hand still pulling at your hair.

“Look at you, so desperate for my fingers. You’re already a moaning mess and I’ve barely even touched you,” she said in a mocking tone, her pace slowly picking up as she continued to thrust her fingers in and out of you. Your hands gripped onto her back, your nails digging into it, leaving moon crescent shapes behind.

She let out a moan of her own at the feeling of your nails digging into her back. It hurt a bit but she absolutely loved it. She continued to move her fingers faster, keeping her pace relentless as she started to suck on your neck again, leaving behind even more marks.

“Mommy! I want- I need m-more!”

“Aww, you need more? My baby’s greedy, isn’t she?” She teased as she added a third finger, curling them all and pushing them deep inside of you. You absolutely melted with the added pressure. It felt so fucking good. She could feel you getting tighter around her fingers and it was driving her crazy. She moved her lips up to your ear, nibbling on the lobe as she whispered to you.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Just take my fingers. They feel so good inside you, don’t they?”

“Yes! So good!”

“My little slut,” she kissed you as she picked up the pace even more, her fingers moving in and out of you at a brutal pace, hitting all the right spots inside you.

“C-cum?” You babbled out, your speech reduced to gibberish.

“You want to cum, baby?” She asked, a smirk on her face as she kept up her pace, her fingers moving in and out of you at a punishing pace, her thumb rubbing against your clit. You nodded your head, unable to make up words.

“Go on then, baby. Cum for me,” She cooed, her fingers curling inside of you once again as she continued to play with your clit, wanting to see you fall apart completely under her touch. Your nails only dig deeper into her back as you came, drawing blood.

Agatha let out a pornographic moan of her own as she felt you digging your nails further into her back. It was so deliciously painful she could feel her own arousal growing, feeling incredibly needy for you but wanting to focus on your pleasure first.

“That’s it, baby girl. Such a good girl,” She said as she slowly pulled her fingers out of you, looking down at your trembling form with a smirk. She was about to get up to get her strap but you took a hold of her wrist.

“Mommy? Can I taste you, please?” She froze for a moment, not expecting that at all. She wasn’t used to her partners wanting to taste her. Usually she would just focus on them, getting off by giving them pleasure but with you…well, she couldn’t deny that she was very intrigued by the thought.

“Is that what you want, sweetheart?”

“Mhm!” You eagerly responded. She looked down at you for a moment, her expression unreadable as she thought about it. She was tempted to say no just to tease you but in the end she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She wanted to see how good you were with your tongue.

“Go ahead then, angel.” To her surprise you pulled her up, making her sit in your face and you immediately got to work, lapping over her wet folds, moaning her sweet taste. She gasped as she felt the vibrations of your moans against her core. She braced herself against the headboard as you continued to lap at her folds, a shiver running down her spine as she felt your tongue on her.

“F-fuck…” she cursed as you worked h your tongue. You didn’t move your eyes from her face. She looked so beautiful when she was in pleasure. She tried her best to keep her composure but the way you worked your tongue was making it difficult. It felt so good, better than she could have imagined and the way you were staring up at her was driving her crazy. Her thighs clenched around your head as she bit down on her lip to try and stifle a moan.

You wanted to hear her moan so you gently bit down on her clit. A gasp turned into a loud moan when you did, her hips jerking forward involuntarily. She grabbed onto your hair tightly, holding you against her as she threw her head back in pleasure. You sneakily slid two fingers inside of her, knowing that would send her over the edge.

Agatha let out a string of curses as you slid your fingers inside her, her back arching and her grip on your hair tightening even more. Her hips began to move in rhythm with your fingers, desperately seeking more of you. With one final suck on her clit, she let herself come undone on your face, her hips halting. Her entire body trembled as she came, a loud moan escaping her lips as she let go of your hair and slumped back against the headboard. She was panting heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she came down from her high.

“Did I do good, mommy?” You asked ever so innocently. She let out a breathless laugh, looking down at you with a look of awe on her face. You were absolutely adorable, covered in her slick and looking up at her with those big eyes.

“You did more than good, baby. You did amazing,” she said before pulling you into a kiss, tasting herself on your tongue. She grabbed your chin, holding your face in place as she kissed you hungrily, claiming your mouth as hers.

You hadn’t realized how wet you had gotten from that until Agatha placed her knee in between your legs, putting little pressure on your pussy and you whimpered. She smirked as she heard the whimper escape your lips, pulling away from the kiss to look down at you with a smug expression. She could feel the wetness on her knee and it made her desire for you grow even more.

“Aww, is someone needy?”

“N-no,” you tried to deny it, thinking it was embarrassing to get so needy merely by getting her off. She chuckled, not believing your denial for a second. She could see how desperate you were just by looking at you. Your flushed face, your ragged breathing, the way your hips moved ever so slightly against her knee.

“You’re a terrible liar, hon. Do you want mommy’s cock, hm?” Your eyes immediately lit up at the mention of her strap. Her smirk only grew wider as she noticed your eyes light up. You wanted it so bad. She knew exactly what you were thinking and it made her want to tease you more.

“You want mommy’s strap that badly, huh?”

“Mhm!”

“Are you going to beg for it?” She asked in a low tone, her knee still between your legs and putting a little more pressure against your aching core.

“Please mommy? I want your cock so bad!” She let out a satisfied hum at your begging, her smirk never leaving her face. She loved the way you called her ‘mommy’ and the fact that you were so desperate for her was driving her crazy.

“That’s a good girl, asking so nicely,” she said, getting up and walking into the walk in close and came back with the strap around her hips. You looked at it and realized it was quite bigger than the one she used before, making you clench your thighs together. She could see the look of nervousness on your face but she could also see the hint of excitement in your eyes. She climbed back onto the bed, crawling over you and hovering above you with a predatory look in her eyes.

“Nervous, darling?”

“Isn’t it a little too big?” You asked, anxiously. She smiled and reached out to cup your cheek, gently caressing your face with her thumb.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. I’ll make it fit.” She got in between your legs, ready to be buried inside you until you abruptly stopped her. She looked at you, concerned for a second until you took her hand and wrapped it around your neck with an innocent look on your face. She didn’t expect you to do that but the way you were looking at her was making her brain short circuit. You were going to be the death of her.

She could feel her arousal growing even more as she tightened her grip on your neck, just enough to cut off some of your air supply. You gasped but didn’t make any move to stop her. Her smirk returned as she felt your pulse. She loved seeing you like this, so vulnerable and submissive beneath her. Her eyes were dark with lust as she leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Such a good girl, letting mommy take control,” then she thrusted the strap inside you.

You braced yourself as you tried to take every inch of the strap. She was slow at first, taking her time to push the strap into you. She could see the way your body tensed up as you tried to take all of it, but the way you squeezed around the toy only served to make her want to tease you even more. Once she was fully inside, she leaned down to suck and nibble at your nipples, leaving behind marks on your chest.

Your moans were strained because of the hand wrapped firmly around your neck but she still thought they were the prettiest sound. Her focus then turned to your pussy, watching as her strap went in and out, your walls clenching around it. She continued to move her hips, slowly pulling the strap out before thrusting it back in. The sight of you beneath her, completely at her mercy and taking her strap so well was something she’d never get tired of.

“You’re doing so well, darling. Taking mommy’s cock like a champ. Isn’t that right, superstar?” she praised, pressing her hand against the belly bulge that formed.

“M-mommy-” you babbled incoherently. She chuckled at your babbling, finding it adorable how your mind was already starting to go blank. She leaned down and kissed you, biting your bottom lip before speaking in a low, sultry tone.

“You can’t even speak, can you sweet girl? Too lost in the pleasure that mommy is giving you?”

“Hmmm…” She chuckled again, amused by your inability to form words. She could tell you were starting to get overwhelmed by everything, your body shaking slightly as she continued to move her hips at a steady pace. Her hand around your neck tightened just a bit more, restricting your air supply even more.

“Such a cute little mess you are right now. Just for me.”

“Fas- faster please!” You begged, suddenly finding your voice again. Her smirk grew wider as she heard your pleas for her to go faster. She was loving the way you were begging for her, it made her want to tease you even more.

“Oh? You want me to go faster, darling?” She asked in a teasing tone, her hips slowing down just to mess with you even more.

“No, don't slow down!” you quickly sobered up from being cockdrunk. She chuckled at your quick change of tone, her hips picking up speed once again. She was enjoying the way you were getting frustrated at her teasing, and the way your body jolted with each thrust was addicting to her.

“Don’t be so impatient, angel. Be a good girl and wait for mommy to give you what you want,” she said before letting go of your neck. She put your legs completely against your chest and started drilling into you. The new position allowed her to hit that spongy spot that made you completely spiral with pleasure.

She already knew your body like the back of her hand and knew exactly where to aim to make you fall apart even more. Her grip on your thighs tightened as she continued to thrust into you with vigor, moving her hand to rub your clit, not giving you a moment to catch your breath.

“Yes! Yes!” You sobbed, feeling yourself getting close to your climax. She loved the way you sobbed, the sound music to her ears. She could tell you were getting close and it only made her want to push you over the edge even faster.

“Are you gonna cum for me, honey? Are you gonna cum all over mommy’s cock?”

“Please?” She chuckled at your needy response, loving the way you begged her to let you cum.

“Such an obedient little girl asking for permission. Go ahead baby, make a mess for mommy.” You finally came undone, gripping onto the bed sheets, moaning Agatha’s name loudly. She continued to thrust into you through your orgasm, prolonging it as much as possible. She loved the way you gripped the sheets and the way your body shook with pleasure. She watched you intently, committing every single expression and sound to memory.

“That’s my good little cock slut,” she slowed her thrusts down, trying to pull out until you pulled her closer.

“Can you…can you keep it inside for a bit?” You asked timidly, your cheeks turning a rosy color. She smirked as she heard your request. You were always so shy about asking for things, even after she’d seen you in some of the most compromising positions.

“Of course, angel,” she said sweetly, leaning down to give you a soft kiss on the forehead before fully burying the strap inside you, letting out a low groan at the sight of your stomach bulging even more from the added pressure. You clung to her, loving the feeling of being full of her. She wrapped her arms around you, holding you close against her. She loved the way you clung to her like a lifeline, and the feeling of your body against hers was intoxicating. She ran her fingers through your hair, soothingly stroking your head as she peppered kisses all over your face.

“You’re so perfect, you know that? My perfect little toy, and I promise no one will take you away from me again.”

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#fanfic #smut #agatha harkness #x reader #fluff #agatha all along #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #serial killer #dark!agatha

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mynahx3 · 2 months ago

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Your Own Prison 7K

Hellooo lovelies!~~~ I bring a Yandere! Illumi x Reader. I hope you enjoy!!! Warning!!!! 18 and up!!!! This DARK story contains DARK subjects of kidnapping/ implied past noncon/ dubcon/ forced relationships/ forced pregnancy Please proceed with caution!! If you don't like, don't read. Not proofread yet.

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The day Illumi met you, he was out on a normal mission to gather information for his client.

The rain was merciless and came down hard on your town. It was something he would have to endure. Illumi would normally not care, being used to the harsh weather where he grew up, but today he had a job to do.

It was a simple one that paid surprisingly well.

The wife had discovered her husband having an affair with the secretary, so she launched a hit against the small-town banker. He followed the target until he went into a building, easily keeping track of him in the windows.

Normally, he would just slip in and finish the job with an easy in-and-out stab of the knife when the target was least expecting it, but the client requested to get the job done in a more discreet manner. One that resembled an accident or natural cause of death. He decided to wait for the perfect opportunity to make it look like the banker's death was simply a tragic accident.

With his years of experience, he was confident he could adapt and complete the job with precision.

For now, Illumi decided he would wait for an opening. He was content with the view he had while also remaining inconspicuous. He just looked like another passenger waiting for the bus in the busy streets.

A few more minutes passed, and a bus arrived at the stop. Illumi almost didn’t notice you standing next to him; the crowd of people walking off the bus didn’t help. It was only when you two were alone did he notice you, looking at you with a calculating gaze. He quickly assessed you, trying to determine if you were a potential threat or just another innocent bystander.

You appeared to be around his age, maybe a little older or younger; it was hard to tell. Dressed in mainly black attire with a worn gray coat. The rain boots you had on were a dark red. Your lips moved; you seemed to be trying to tell him something.

The stoic assassin's face became annoyed as he raised his eyebrow and lifted his hand to his ear, indicating that he couldn't hear you.

The busy city streets drowned out your voice, making conversation difficult. The rain didn't help either, hammering hard against the metal roof above you both. You approached him with a concerned expression on your face. Brows furrowed, and lips parted.

When he got a closer look at you, he realized you weren't horrible looking. It was a thought that vanished as swiftly as it appeared, still irritated by being interrupted.

"That was the last bus for awhile." You said, wincing a little as you pointed to the schedule next to him.

He glanced at the schedule to you, then back to his target, who appeared to be going down the elevator. The stoic expression back on his face.

"I am aware."

The tension between you both was awkward; you shuffled on your feet, looking around sheepishly. He didn't bother looking back at you, thinking the conversation was over.

"If you're cold, my store is over there. You're welcome to wait until the next bus arrives," you offered, trying to diffuse the tension.

Your finger pointed to a corner store not too far from here. The lights flashed in the rain, illuminating the wet pavement as you waited for his response. It looked a bit older than the other establishments in the area. Faded signs were taped on the windows, advertising discounts on various items.

Illumi simply remained silent, unwilling to speak with you any further. His gaze shifted ahead, resuming what he was doing before you interrupted. The rain continued to fall, making the situation more uncomfortable.

You would shortly leave, he assumed.

Proving him wrong, he heard you open one of your bags; the shuffling of wrappers and the sound of you pulling out a small package piqued his ears. Curious, Illumi finally glanced down at what you held; it was a small rectangle, no bigger than the palm of your hand. Looking at him with a tense smile, you held it out towards him, nudging it closer to him when he didn't take it.

"It's a hand warmer!" You informed him with a wider smile. "If you don't want to come in, take this."

Illumi's expression softened slightly as he reached out to accept the hand warmer, a rare gesture of gratitude for him. He titled his head as he picked it up with the tips of his fingers, examining the item with a hint of interest.

"Thank you," he murmured with a questioning tone, holding it in his hand. He wasn't expecting that.

You nod, looking happy that he took it from you, pulling out an umbrella from your bag now.

"I hope it helps keep you warm," you replied before turning to leave him. "If you need more, we sell a few items that could help in this weather, including hand warmers and umbrellas. On sale this week!" you added with a cheeky smile over your shoulder.

With that, you left, stepping into the rain with your umbrella up. Not thinking anything of the interaction with the stranger. His eyes followed you as you walked away; a small feeling stirred inside of him that he had never felt before. The small act of kindness left a lasting impact on him.

It was something you'd live to regret.

~~~~~~~~

Arguing was heard around you as you lay on the floor. You didn't recognize the voices; one was a woman and two other men. You didn't know why this was happening.

You just wanted to go home.

A blindfold was tied tightly over your eyes, now wet from your tears. Wrists tied together behind you as well as your ankles, leaving you no hope for escape. Mouth gagged with your own scarf, not helping the panic rising in your chest. You were roughly dropped onto the floor after being taken from a car, the tile pressing into your cheek as you tried to make sense of the situation. The cries you made were not bothering the people in the room who continued arguing.

"Why on Earth would you pick this girl?" The woman asked angrily; the shrillness of her voice made your ears hurt. "You have so many offers to pick from, why her?"

"It is none of your concern who I pick, Mother. Father said it was fine as long as I didn't forsake my responsibilities." The man's response was cold and dismissive, causing the woman to huff in frustration. Footsteps were heard coming closer to you, making you tense up in fear.

Gentle hands helped you to sit on your knees, making you jolt in surprise. You could feel the weight of their gaze on you, making your skin crawl with unease. You felt goosebumps grow along your arms, and your shaking intensified. It didn't help you had been taken in your sleep, so you only had on an old t shirt and shorts.

Suddenly, there was an overwhelming brightness as someone took off the blindfold. You squinted your eyes in response, adjusting to being able to see for the first time in a few hours.

In front of you was a man with pale skin, dark eyes, and short, black hair. You could only stare at him in shock and confusion. His piercing gaze seemed to burrow into your soul, sending shivers down your spine. The man's expression was inscrutable, heightening your sensation of dread.

"Welcome home, dear wife."

That would be the start of your new life.

~~~~~~~~

“This is something my little brother can withstand; no problem. We need to build your resilience, dear."

Illumi stood over you in the basement. His monotone voice grated your ears as he demeaned you. Empty eyes looking at your weak form crying on the stone floors. His pale hands soaked with your blood as he wiped them clean with a towel.

He acted so casual, as if it were just something as simple as dirt, not human blood.

Shaking in pain from what he did to you, you lay in a fetal position. For hours on end, he hurt you as you were chained to the ceiling by your wrists. Hard red welts on your wrists were proof of the cuffs digging into your flesh. Your body was covered in bruises and cuts, blood soaked into your clothes.

Another punishment for trying to escape but it was always futile.

Kukuroo Mountain was vast with unforgiving terrain. Littered with traps to keep anyone out, which also worked perfectly in keeping people in. To your credit, you did manage to evade the highly trained butlers and Illumi for two days. It was the farthest you had ever gotten in your attempts to escape. But now, as you lay broken and defeated, the reality of your situation set in: there was no way out.

These sessions with Illumi only brought you pain and suffering. He was determined to get you to give in. For you to become his sweet wife and meld into his family—like he didn’t kidnap you from your home months prior.

Forcing his way into your life despite only having just met him. Taking anything he wanted from you with no remorse.

With weak arms, you tried to pick yourself off the ground, vision filled with black dots. Stubbornly, you glared up at him. He loved the fire in your eyes; he simply didn't like it when it was aimed at the wrong things. He didn't understand why you were fighting so hard against him. Your determination could have been utilized for more important things, like helping the family, but you had to oppose him.

A blank expression was on his face as he looked at you sit up; a part of him was surprised by that. You had cuts along your arms and legs with a few broken ribs, yet you still had that look of defiance. Seeing you this way only affirmed his feelings.

He knew you were simply meant to be. Yes, your body was weak, but your mind was strong.

Crouching to your level, he looked at you; his cold hand caressed your tangled hair with a gentleness that always shocked you. Illumi was a surprisingly doting man. After your punishments, he made sure to coddle you as you healed.

Kissing your wounds, whispering into your ear, treating you softer than ever before. Over the last few months, you felt your resolve dwindling. You let yourself lean into his touch as it cupped your throbbing cheek, eyes closed as you tried to block out the pain. For just a moment, you felt his touch bring you comfort.

Snapping out of it, you turned away from him, wretching yourself from his hold. You spat in his face, with some of your blood mingled in. He wiped the wetness from his face calmly before saying in a low, frightening tone.

"You will regret that."

His eyes darkened with rage as he looked at the mess on his fingers, and his short, dark hair fell around his face, giving him a more terrifying appearance. Knowing your disobedience would only make matters worse, you prepared yourself for what was about to happen.

"Go to fucking hell."

~~~~~~~~

You awake with a start, jolting up from the plush, silken sheets. Illumi clung to your side like always, his eyes opening immediately at your movement. The nightmare, more like a memory, had made your skin clammy, and sweat dripped down your forehead. As you tried to calm your racing heart, you couldn't shake the feeling of fear that was felt in your bones. Illumi's head tilted at the sight of your distress, prompting him to sit up.

"You're shaking." His voice was soft, a stark contrast to the harshness of your nightmare. "Another dream?"

You nodded, looking at your lap, not replying much to him as he hummed. Moving your gaze to his with a firm grip on your chin, he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his gaze devoid of emotion. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment before looking away, a flicker of concern crossing his face before he masked it with his usual stoicism.

"The doctor said you needed to rest. You're not doing that, and it's starting to show." He sighed, reaching out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I know, I know." You dismissed him, leaning into his touch as he caressed your cheekbone.

His touch was both comforting and unsettling, a reminder of his dual nature. Despite the concern in his eyes, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his motives than he let on.

"I'm here for you." He leaned in, kissing you gently before it went further. You closed your eyes, trying to calm your heart, but his words only seemed to worsen your anxiety.

"Illumi." You tried to protest, hands going to his chest, but you put no strength in them. You stopped fighting him a long time ago, now trying to barter instead. "It's late."

"I know you're worried," he whispered, his voice soft and soothing. "But I only want to help you through this."

The kiss continued for a while longer; he didn't seem to mind your slow movements. He pushed you back onto the bed, squeezing your shoulders. His lips sealed with yours, hard and demanding. Pressing his body against yours and wrapping your legs around him, he caged you in with arms on both sides of your head. The intensity of his look conveyed that he was entirely focused on you at that moment.

"I'm here." He repeated. A hand moves to caress your face again. You felt a rush of emotions in your heart as he added, "I'll always be here for you."

It didn't seem to convey the message he wanted; he was never one to be good with words. His hand moved down to clasp around your throat, not putting any pressure on you. It was a hold that conveyed his possession and control over you.

Tears silently went down your face as you looked up at him, feeling overwhelmed. Your heart was conflicted by the mix of fear and comfort that his touch brought. You wanted to fight back, to run, but you were rooted in place. Knowing what would happen if you fought back.

You have been realizing, too, that there was a tiny, tiny part of you that craved his touch.

Regardless of how much you denied it, you could feel yourself starting to care for him. The defeat in your eyes seemed to make him happy, clear from the small smirk on his lips.

"You're never leaving me, and I know you're starting to accept that," he whispered, his grip tightening, making your breath halt.

Leaning down again, he captures your lips, furthering the passion he felt. He wanted to show the extent of his love for you in more than just words. His hands begin to trail along your body in possession. Feeling and gripping at your soft flesh. It was different from the hardened, trained muscles of his. A good difference to him.

The kisses became more frenzied and hungry, his teeth knashing against your bottom lip. You didn't know whose blood you tasted on your tongue. He always seemed to lose control in moments like this, leaving you breathless and spiraling. His touch was both gentle and possessive, sending shivers down your spine.

As he deepened the kiss, you couldn't help but reciprocate with equal fervor, completely surrendering to the moment. He seemed pleased as you wrapped your arms around his neck, and his movements slowed. His lips lingered on yours, savoring the sensation of heat between you and the feeling of your tongue move against his.

Everything happened so fast; he was always the eager man when it came to you.

Without further warning, you felt him hike your nightgown up, pulling his boxers down shortly after. His hand spread your thighs more apart with ease, the head of his cock rubbing up against your wet entrance a couple times before he pushed in. As he entered you, you had to arch your back against him. You were pressed chest to chest as he pushed deeper and deeper until he was fully inside you, filling you completely.

Even though it was only a sting, the pain that followed was nonetheless unpleasant.

A whimper escaped your lips as he peppered kisses down your neck in an attempt to distract you. Your nails dug into the skin on his back, legs locking around his slim waist, pulling him closer as you tried to focus on the pleasure mingling in.

The release between your legs from earlier did help, but it wasn't enough to completely mask the pain. No matter how many times he took you, it was always on the edge of discomfort, a fine line between pleasure and pain that you both danced along.

"Breathe." He reminded, his voice low and soothing. His touch was gentle, reassuring, and soon the pain was nothing more than a distant memory.

Opening your eyes, you saw him over you, his inky hair falling in disarray around him. If it wasn't for the slight flush on his cheeks and mused hair, you would never think he felt anything other than calm control. His eyes, however, betrayed a hint of desire that mirrored your own growing need for more of his touch.

He stayed in place as you adjusted to him. Passing the time by tracing circles on your hip, the other moving up and down your spine in a soothing motion. Short gasps emerged from your mouth as your face contorted in a mixture of pleasure and discomfort. Your breathing began to steady, the initial pain fading as you relaxed into the moment. Your body became more plaint under him, your insides clenched around him in a delicious ache of anticipation.

Illumi began to slowly rock into you, his hips meeting yours with a steady rhythm. His movements were deliberate and controlled, his touch both soothing and intense. As the initial sting began to fade, a wave of pleasure started to build within you, blending with the lingering pain in a bittersweet symphony.

Your body responded eagerly to his touch, surrendering to the conflicting sensations that he expertly knew how to bring. Seeing this, Illumi began to move faster. Eager to push you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond, his movements are becoming more urgent and intense.

Grunts escaped his lips so quietly that you would have missed them if he hadn't been so close. The room filled with the sound of your combined breaths, and the feeling of his body pressed against yours intensified. Each movement brought you closer to the edge, aching for release as you both lost yourselves in the moment.

"Illumi!" You cried into his ear, hand pulling at his soft hair. Hips moving against his in sync. "Illumi, please don't stop."

This only furthered his own desire, and he responded by increasing the pace and pressure of his movements, pushing you both towards the peak of ecstasy. The tension is building up within the both of you with each movement, the sensations overwhelming your senses as you reached the brink of pleasure.

Moaning loudly, you felt yourself close to unraveling but not quite there.

Continuing his thrusts, Illumi moved his hand between you, flicking at your clit roughly with his thumb. The added stimulation sent you over the edge, your body shuddering as you finally reached that peak of pleasure. Gasping for breath, you clung to him. He followed shortly after with a stuttering of his hips, his release painting your insides as he groaned in satisfaction. In the aftermath, the both of you panted for air. Sweat coated both of your bodies as you lay tangled together, basking in the afterglow.

Making sure to keep his seed plugged inside, he leaned back from you. His hand that gripped at your thigh traveled up to your stomach, where it rested. Dark eyes looked at you, filled with a mix of satisfaction and longing.

"You will never be without me," he whispered, his voice husky. "I will always be a part of you, in every way possible."

~~~~~~~~

"Caladen, Illyrio. Explain yourselves."

You sat in your usual chair at the table, with your daughter on your lap and your two boys in front of you. Each looking guilty, never being one to hide from the judgment of their mother. Your daughter, Sylvia, was unconcerned, knawing on the fabric of your dress despite your efforts to persuade her to stop.

At just five years old, the two boys bore a striking resemblance to their father, and as they grew older, they undoubtedly continued to do so. Dark eyes that stared into the soul and pale skin that seemed to glow in the moonlight. The only semblance of you in them was how they acted. One, stubborn as all hell that rebeled all chances he had, and the other, more obedient, an observer with a silver tongue.

Illyrio spoke first, his voice steady and confident, while Caladen remained silent, a slight frown on his face. The broken pot was behind them, proof of their misdeeds, and was being cleaned up by a butler. It was only on the ground for a couple seconds before it was swept away. Looking like nothing had happened at all.

"We were just practicing, mama."

Seeing the looks on their faces, you almost felt yourself give in to their innocent facade, but you knew better than to be fooled by their charm. It was only a matter of time before they were up to no good again. That mischievous streak was all their own.

"What it looks like you were doing," you start, staying stern with a frown. "Was messing around despite being told to stop playing so roughly in the house, especially our dining room. I expect you both to behave, you know better."

The children exchanged guilty glances, realizing they had been caught red-handed once again.

"Yes, mama."

Their heads hung low as they mumbled their response, knowing that their mischievous behavior had consequences. You couldn't help but feel a mix of frustration and affection for your children. They were only children, but being a child of the Zoldyck family was no easy feat.

In your thoughts, you don't notice the arrival of your husband until he lays a hand on your shoulder. The action made you look up at him, smiling softly at him.

"Go train with your grandmother today." He said, not bothering to look their way as he leaned over you, a blank expression on his face. Voice is still plain as always. "You will need to be punished, so do tell her what you did."

This made your frown deepen; you didn't want them to be punished so harshly. The boys left the dining room without another word. They had always respected and obeyed their father.

As you watched them go, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for what they were about to endure. Kikyo's training was notoriously brutal. They were unforgiving and left lasting scars, you knew from experience. For a moment, they looked like normal kids, laughing together as they ran down the hall. Their assigned butlers were following right behind them.

Your focus was drawn back to Illumi, who had taken your daughter from you. The baby giggled in his arms; chubby fingers immediately began pulling at his long hair. Her blue eyes looked at her father with interest, white hair framing her face in short curls.

She was an innocent, pure child, but you knew that Illumi would raise her to be just as ruthless as he was. The thought made your heart ache, but you had no choice but to watch from afar.

All of your children were Zoldycks; it was their birthright and destiny to be trained as assassins.

"How is little Sylvia this morning?" Illumi asked, sitting next to you at the dining table. She bore a striking resemblance to her grandfather, which her family valued. You knew that Sylvia's future was already set in stone from that alone, and there was nothing you could do to change it.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness as you replied, "She's doing well, as always."

He nodded, a glimmer of pride in his eyes, and returned his attention to his food. Sylvia proceeded to play with the pins on his vest as he fed her.

Illumi began to talk about the typical topics. How he had dealt with his most recent target, upcoming missions, the training regiment that the boys would follow, and the time you were permitted to spend with them.

Every week, you were given an entire day to spend with your children. It was a time you were thankful for. Considering the demands of their training and missions, every hour you could spend with them was valuable.

He had noticed you weren't exactly paying attention to him, only humming in response to his words with no real engagement. Saying your name fixed the problem; your shoulders straightened, and you made eye contact.

"Your mind seems to be elsewhere, dear."

"Just thinking about the boys. Their training is getting more intense." You answered honestly, your hand reaching out to wipe your daughter's mouth of drool with your napkin.

You were often concerned about your boys. They carried a lot of responsibility being the oldest of your children and the first grandchildren.

After you cleaned up your daughter, you gave him that same soft smile you have grown accustomed to giving him. Though it seemed forced at times, he thought he'd never see those loving eyes staring at him. Still, Illumi could tell that wasn't the only thing occupying your mind.

His frigid fingers reached out and moved some hair from your face, catching you by surprise. He wasn't one to be affectionate outside of the bedroom.

The fatigue on your face was more visible in the light.

He had kept you on a strict schedule and diet since your arrival years ago, but he couldn't ignore the signs of weariness sneaking in. You hadn't been sleeping well lately, your appetite had diminished, and you weren't as positive. With the recent birth of your daughter only a few months prior, he knew it was time for a change. Something to cheer you up from the mood you were in.

"I plan to take you and the children to the village soon." He said suddenly, not reacting to the shocked look on your face, busy getting his slobber covered pin from the strong hands of his daughter.

It had been years since you left the mountain; it had been your home—prison—for the last few years. As evidenced by how much his hair had grown, now reaching his lower back from the short style he had when you two first met. Illumi had been adamant to keep your contact to only himself, his family, and the help of the mansion.

"Is it for a mission?" You asked, trying to gauge his intentions, an eyebrow raised in suspicion, sipping on the teacup in hand.

"No, it's not for a mission," he replied smoothly, handing Sylvia over to you once your hands were free. "There is a festival happening that I think the twins will enjoy. I will inform the butlers to pack."

Without saying anything else, he leaned down to kiss your daughter's head and gave you a quick peck on the lips before heading towards the door, leaving you to wonder about his sudden change of heart.

Watching him go, you still had the frown on your face. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his decision than he let on. While you watched him disappear down the hallway, a sinking feeling formed in your gut. You couldn't help but wonder what prompted this surprising act.

It was a thought that left quickly as your lovely daughter spit up all over the front of your dress to your dismay.

~~~~~~~~

The festival was a celebration that was known for its lively atmosphere and colorful decorations.

Ahead of you, the boys looked at the passing floats with an awestruck expression. They had run off without a care in the world, eager to explore all the festivities the festival had to offer.

You were tempted to yell after them, your heart thrumming at the sight of them so far. At first, the crowd didn't help your anxiety. But as you saw the smiles on your children's faces, you began to relax and enjoy the festivities. The music, food, and laughter surrounding you made it easy to forget about your worries for a while.

Still, you were not completely at ease.

It was something you weren't hiding well, gripping the stroller so tightly, your knuckles turning white. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself to trust that your children were safe and having a great time. Their butlers were sure to stay by them, and they had their parents.

Illumi was walking next to you, idly looking at the different stalls with disinterest. It was admittedly weird to see him in public with civilians. As you continued to navigate through the bustling crowd, you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered in the back of your mind. Despite the festive atmosphere, a sense of apprehension still gnawed at you. It was a struggle to stay present and enjoy the moment after being kept in the mountain for so long. Seeing your thoughts racing, Illumi's hand reaches out for yours, his eyes communicating his thoughts well enough.

"Just a lot of people." You said, squeezing his hand back as you both walked.

"We can go somewhere for a moment." He suggested, waving a butler over to the both of you.

Without asking your opinion, he took you by the hand to a bench not too far but far enough to offer some privacy from the bustling crowd. The butler had taken Sylvia with no objections, leaving you and Illumi alone to finally have a moment of peace. Sitting down, you immediately felt relieved.

Awkwardly, he kept his eyes on you the entire time, unblinking.

He often likes to just watch, not saying anything. Countless times you woke up to the sight of him standing over you in your shared room. His gaze was intense, almost unsettling, but you found comfort in his presence nonetheless after the years. Illumi's silent companionship was something you had grown accustomed to, even if it still sent shivers down your spine at times.

"You know, it's nice to see them like this." You said, breaking the silence. "So… normal."

The boys were both leaning over the stroller, showing their softer sides as they cooed and made faces at the baby. They both turned to you, smiling, their eyes filled with genuine affection for the little one. Much like the rest of the family, that little girl had them wrapped around her finger. Illumi studied them alongside you, his hand now resting on your thigh as he scooted closer.

"Do not get attached to the sight. It will not last. We will only be in town for a couple nights."

His words served as a reminder of the impermanence of the moment, but you chose to savor it nonetheless. Illumi's gaze flickered to you briefly before returning to the children, his expression unreadable as always.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," he replied, standing up as he looked down at you, hand extended.

You simply took his hand, walking with him without another word.

~~~~~~~~

The night went by faster than you wanted. It was nice to see your family together.

A flicker of shock went through you at the thought, your hand faltered as you burped your daughter. The butler beside you wanted to, but you refused. You preferred to take care of them yourself.

You glanced over at Illumi across the park table, who was in conversation with the twins about types of assassinations. The night had been surprisingly pleasant, and you were grateful for the rare moment of peace. In your arms, Sylvia yawned, her tiny hands rubbing her eyes as a grumpy look was on her face. It was about time for bed.

"Lumi, I think we should head out. Sylvia is sleepy."

Instantly, the boys both looked disappointed, but Illumi nodded in agreement, standing up and motioning for the twins to follow.

"Can't we stay a little longer?" One boy asked, leaning forward to you.

"We haven't even ridden the carousel yet," the other twin chimed in, a hopeful look in his eyes. You smiled at their enthusiasm, thinking it over a bit as you gathered everything.

"Gotta see what your dad says."

With a sigh, you glanced at Illumi, who didn't seem too thrilled about the idea of staying longer. A moment of silence went by as he thought it over.

You stood next to him, tilting your head slightly in anticipation of his response. Finally, he nodded in agreement, surprising you and the twins.

"A hotel has been booked in preparation. You can head over with the butlers. I'll take them on a ride or two, but you both have to accompany me to the next mission."

Illumi looked at them as they cheered before at you. Leaning up, you kissed him on the cheek, a rare display of affection from you.

"Have fun!" You smiled at him with such glee, a look of pure happiness that made his heart swell with warmth.

Illumi looked surprised at that, his eyes slightly wider, and he held the cheek you had kissed.

~~~~~~~~

Checking into the hotel was an easy process. The butlers came with you, unpacking everything with ease and swiftness.

The suite was filled with everything you'd need for a weekend retreat. Two separate rooms, one for the kids and the other for you two, a living room connected to the kitchen, and a balcony with the view of the town.

Sylvia slept peacefully in her bassinet after being fed one more time and a bath.

Leaning over the railing, you watched the rise and fall of her chest.

Your children had become your whole world, their innocence and vulnerability a constant reminder of the love and responsibility you held in your heart. The first time you were pregnant, you hated the changes in your body and the loss of control. You had vowed to him you would hate them and that you didn't want them. They would be a daily reminder of what Illumi did to you, after all.

But the day you held them for the first time, all the resentment melted away, replaced with an overwhelming sense of protectiveness.

Feeling sleepy yourself, you rose from the uncomfortable position you were in. It had been time for you to get some much needed rest as well. Going into the master bedroom, you quickly stripped and showered. The butlers that guided you to the hotel had been in the living room, telling you to call for them if needed.

Oddly, they hadn't come to check on you like they usually did.

Sighing in relief, you stepped out of the bathroom. Now you were dressed in a simple nightgown that reached your midthigh. It was made of soft cotton with a delicate lace trim. You would prefer something more casual, but Illumi liked to see you in the finer things.

Idly, you had gone to the dresser, picking up the snack you had brought into the room with you. It was just a fresh abaripe, a blue fruit similar to an apple found in the area, with a small knife nearby for cutting it up. Humming in contentment at the taste of it, you continued to slice it up in your hand, deciding to watch a show before bed.

The sight you walked into made you freeze in shock, the fruit dropping from your hand. A man stood in the middle of the room, the light from the fireworks blazing behind him. You'd never seen him before, hence all the alarms set off in your head. You nearly screamed when you opened your mouth, hand gripping the knife harder, but the man instantly raised his hands, shushing you with urgency.

"I'm here to help." The man urged, taking a step forward as you took one back. "Your family hired me to find you."

You felt a mix of relief and confusion, unsure of whether to trust this stranger. Your eyes are keeping watch of him for any signs of deception or danger. After a few moments of tense silence, you finally lowered the knife and allowed him to speak more.

He explained the situation to you in a fast manner, clearly nervous at the same time. How your family had hired him to find you, how they had spent most of their money in this almost endless pursuit. He had even said he began to help out of the goodness of his heart after seeing them so desparate.

It had taken him years, but he finally found you.

Your heart only beat more, thoughts racing with the realization that your family had been searching for you for so long. You couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions—relief, guilt, and gratitude all at once.

Then, it was all overshadowed by one thing—fear.

Blood rushed into your ears, your chest moving to take panicked breaths. The very room seemed to shrink around you, walls closing in fast.

What would Illumi do to you if he found out?

No, no, no, no, no, you couldn't take more punishments. More bleeding. More torment. More pain.

It had taken years to get this point. The very thought of going back to their basement made you feel queasy, the food you had eaten earlier threatening to come back up. More anxiety filled you as you thought of the worst of things.

What about your children? You can't leave them.

His touch on your arm jolted you, bringing you back to reality. You could see he was sweating, scared in his own right. If he got caught, he was worse than dead.

You weren't much better, looking like a deer in headlights, as he began to pull you towards the balcony. Your feet only planted in place, trying to slow him down if not stop him completely. Your hand is trying to wretch his from around you. His grip is stronger than you would have expected, especially considering the amount of training the Zoldycks have made you endure to be one of them.

"N-no, what about my kids?" You pleaded; you felt your heart beat frantically in your chest. The urgency in his eyes was unmistakable, and you knew he was not going to wait for anyone. Your stomach turned with fear at the thought of leaving your children behind.

"We don't have time. The butlers are knocked out, but we have to move now."

"Let me at least get my girl!" You yelled, desparation in your voice as you panicked more and more. Your vision began to blur from the tears going down your eyes. Nails digging into his hand.

You can't leave them. You can't leave them. You can't leave them. You can't leave them. You can't leave them.

YOU CAN'T LEAVE THEM.

He didn't listen to you, pulling you harder across the room. It was only once his hand touched the doorknob to the balcony did you react.

You put the small but sharp knife into him faster than you could have imagined. You had done it mindlessly and, by chance, got him in the throat; you had almost forgotten it was in your hand.

He let go of you, looking at you in shock as you pulled the blade out. Blood spurted from the wound like a fountain.

It almost seemed as if time slowed down. His hand slowly went to hold his bleeding throat; his other hand weakly reached towards you. The shock and horror in his eyes were quickly replaced by a look of betrayal as he realized the extent of your actions. Without saying a word, you only reacted.

Again and again, and again and again.

You continued to stab him, even as he crumpled against the glass door. The knife may have been small, but it was sharp and deadly, each stab punctuating the air with a sickening sound. Adrenaline coursing through your veins dulled the screams that echoed in the room, leaving only the metallic scent of blood lingering in the air.

Blood coated everything by the time you were done. The moon shone a red glow into the room from the amount of blood on the window. It was now silent, other than blood dripping from the knife onto the floor, a haunting reminder of the gruesome act that had just taken place.

Soaked into the carpet below you, it began to pool around you both. The body of the man was long still, looking into nothing with dull eyes. His skin now has a gray hue to it, and his lips are a shade of blue.

Being this close, you could see how young he was. Babyfaced. Naive and inexperienced to this type of job.

The only movement in the room was the slow rise and fall of your chest as you sat there, staring at what you had done.

~~~~~~~~

Illumi should have noticed something was off sooner when he didn't see the butlers that were supposed to be with you.

He was a bit distracted as he walked into the suite, holding both of the sleeping boys with ease. The three of them had spent longer out, racking up stuffies they won at the scam games.

One in particular, Illumi had won for you. He had caught you staring at it for a bit earlier. It was an ugly, cheap thing with bug eyes, but something told him to get it for you.

The butler put the bag of goodies on the counter before taking the twins from Illumi to get them into bed.

Illumi silently began to walk towards the master bedroom, the stuffie in hand from the bag.

Normally, you would have greeted him by now. Even if you were tired, you always heard him come home. Sleepily getting out of bed to greet him once he entered was a routine you never broke. But tonight, you remained silent. He figured you must have been in a deep sleep; you have been tired as of late.

Once he was closer to the door, his nose picked up on the scent of rust. It was a thick scent that he knew all too well. For the very first time in his life, Illumi felt scared. The worst scenarios ran through his mind as he stepped faster, pins in hand, stuffie dropped to the floor.

Maybe you had hurt yourself? Had he really missed the signs?

Imagine his surprise and relief when he rushed to open the door to find his wife sitting in front of a body.

You didn't respond when he called out to you, still shaken and shocked by what you had done. The man's body had already become cold. He completely ignored it, cradling your face and looking at him. He was just concerned about you.

"What happened?" He demanded to know, looking over you for any injuries.

He was relieved to find you were unscathed, physically at least. You were still unresponsive and shaking, it was the first time you’ve ever killed someone. Your eyes didn't look at him until he repeated your name again. Finally, you met his gaze, tears streaming down your face, mixing with the blood dried on your face.

"He tried to take me from you." You whispered, almost falling into his arms. Your hands gripped his shirt as you looked at him, your voice barely above a whisper.

He cupped your face, admiring the work of art you were, thumb smearing the bloodstains on your cheeks.

"Oh, dear. I'm so proud of you."

A twisted smile appeared on Illumi's face as he kissed you gently. You had killed someone.

His sweet wife. HIS. To stay with HIM.

With your family.

It was where you belonged.

#yandere hxh #yandere illumi x reader #hxh x reader #yandere illumi #reader insert #cw yandere #cw noncon #cw dubcon #cw blood #cw kidnapping #cw: gore #cw smut #yandere x reader #yandere imagines

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la2yn0va · 4 months ago

Note

Hello! Can i request some self aware au Feixiao x male reader, who has already decided he is going to skip the other character for her? Like it has been predertemine. The reader said something like: "I like ya and i want ya". Just like that with no sense of shame.

…you watching me or something?

————

-Watching the 2.4 trailer while having honkai open-

M/n: So a prison break event? Sure I’ll take it. Even though I wanted stellaron hunter Sunday, I’ll take a Prision break—

Gets interrupted as feixiao appears on the screen “…WHO IS YOUUUU!!?” He rewinds to her the close up of her dull blue eyes. Leaning back on his chair and keeping his hand over his mouth whilst his chat instantly knows what’s wrong with him beginning to call him a simp.

Chatter 1: Aaaaaand she got another one.

Chatter 2: Welcome to the club.

Chatter 3: Ay this the same mfer that said he doesn’t simp for anyone. LMAO!!!

M/n has yet to speak a word, simply staring at the foxian woman. Meanwhile, the characters in the game are staring depressed. What does that foxian general have that they don’t!!!?

They can fight, they have pretty eyes, they have smooth skin!! WHATS SO SPECIAL ABOUT HER!!

M/n:…imma be honest… jing yuan, step down there’s a new general in town

An arrow pierced jing yuan

M/n: Better hair ‘another arrow’ better weapons—PLUAR ‘two arrows’ and SO much better eyes and hair!!

Jing yuan falls onto the ground cartoonishly unconscious as the luofu characters yell in panic. (I know Alejandro is SEETHING right now)

M/n:…nahhh, I’m not simping.. right? Me? Simping…?

Stares longer at feixiao “…Fuck it, I’ll wear it on my chest. I’m actually simping for someone right now. FUCK!” M/n throws a small unserious tantrum. Whilst the xianzhou characters (besides that now depressed jing yuan) are crying to themselves.

Chatter 4: You skipping yunli and jiaoqiu? Ya SIMP.

M/n: Okay— 1. Why you gotta type that with so much disrespect? 2… I wanna say yes, but my luck with pulls and light comes are CRAZY… like I haven’t lost a 50/50 since I picked up this game sooooooooo……….i mean.. I like her… and I want her.

Chatter 5: Nah pull for them, I bet you’d get them anyway.

Chatter 6: You self reported there, YOU DONT LOSE. SO PICK UP THE CHARACTERS.

(LEAKS!!!!) M/n began looking at imagines and leaks for feixiao, at one point staring at her back when her shirt was burnt off. “Hoooly shiiit….”

Chatter 7: AYYY!! LEAKS MOTHERFUCKER!!!

Chatter 8: I don’t think he’s even in the same universe as us right now mate.

Chatter 9: Welcome his first E6S5 character guys.

M/n:…..Yeah, I need you mother fuckers to donate RIGHT NOW! I NEED HER E6S5 YESTERDAY!

———

The end.

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oratokyosaigunda · 1 year ago

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Prison Town e Youkoso!, volume 1

#Prison Town e Youkoso!#Kangokugai e Youkoso #Welcome to Prison Town!#Neji (mangaka)#manga covers #YuriHime manga

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reiderwriter · 5 months ago

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The Thrill of the Chase

Chapter Seven of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: Waking up in Spencer's arms suddenly feels wrong, but you have to convince him everything is fine before your big secret is revealed.

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, morning sickness, and triggers for emetophobia.

A/N: Welcome to Chapter Seven!! It's been a bit of a hectic week for me, so this is a bit of a shorter chapter, but I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far! It's crazy to think there are only three chapters left now!

Masterlist || (tag list is currently being repaired, thanks tumblr)

When you woke up, you immediately wish you hadn't.

The comfortable position immediately became a crick in your neck. The warm fuzz of sleep became sharpened memories of the night before. Your bed became Spencer Reid, though of course it did.

If you were stiff, you were so sure he was.

While you'd been wedged between his head and his shoulders, fitting nearly perfectly into his shoulder, he'd been forced up against the sofa, head pushed down at an awkward angle as he tried, and failed, to get comfortable.

You blinked your eyes open and immediately closed them again as you cursed inwardly.

You wondered how you were going to extricate yourself from the solid grip he still had on your hips, but you weren't wondering for long.

Not when the second time opening your eyes had your stomach somersaulting in your belly, a pair of legs or a head or something pushed right up against everything you'd eaten in the last 24 hours.

You shot up, not caring if you woke him but absolutely caring that you didn't throw up all over him.

He joked awake and only really gained full consciousness when you bolted the bathroom door shut behind you.

He tried his best to shake off that sleepy feeling, the fatigue of sleeping somewhere unfamiliar. For a second, he felt a pang of sympathy for you, having spent a full week sleeping in unfamiliar territory.

Truthfully, he'd been able to sleep just fine on the couch. His back was stiff, but it was nothing like the ache of the solid prison beds. He wasn't alone at least. 15 years with the FBI, and Spencer had seen enough to never want to sleep soundly again, but you had put your head on his chest and he'd gone from horny to humming contented as he slipped into sleep.

It was his own relaxed state that had his senses sharpening as he heard the tell-tale signs of your morning sickness. You wretched and heaved over the toilet, mostly expelling nothing except all your comfort and joy.

Whoever said the female body was purpose built for baby making obviously had never been through it themselves, as it seemed your body was more than likely trying to destroy itself to create life. You weren't even sure what was even left in your stomach at this point.

Spencer knocked quietly at the door.

“Y/N? Do you need something?” He called, resting his still weary head on the door.

“No.” You called back, tone a lot sharper than you intended.

“Come on, what's going on in there?” He asked, still calm and content. Your only reply was another dry heave and a shaky sob of pain.

You heard his footsteps retreat from the door as your head collapsed against the porcelain, and you rode out your pain once again.

When he returned, his voice was firmer.

“Y/N, we have a doctors appointment in 45 minutes at a clinic across town. If you can, open the door.”

“No!” You cried, throat closing up in panic as you heard his words. You weren't sure whether to be pissed at his presumption, steam-rolling you into a doctor's visit even though you knew exactly what it was that was wrong with you, or happy that he even cared enough to ask.

Either way, you hadn't the energy to lift yourself up and open the door for him.

You laid back on his bathroom floor and closed your eyes, the cool floor wholly more comfortable than the toilet had been.

You didn't get to relish it for long, though, before he had beaten the door down. You barely registered the first shoulder push before the second one carefully carried Spencer into the room.

He took one look at you and lifted you into a sitting position, even as you groaned, your head now pounding.

“Spencer, leave me alone,” you moaned, even as you hugged closer to him. He pulled you up to a standing position but kept his hands locked around yours carefully and walked you out to the front door, effectively marching you to the door before you could even tell him there had been a misunderstanding.

You came up with every excuse in the book to get out of the car, bit you didn't have the time to utter a single one before he was strapping you in gently, closing the door behind you, climbing in himself and starting the engine.

“This is a misunderstanding,” you said, as your morning sickness began to fade rapidly. Finally.

“Oh, so you weren't throwing up?”

“No, I was but-”

“But what?”

“I do it every day,” you said quietly, knowing it was only going to confuse him more.

“Then we're absolutely going to see a doctor.”

You said nothing for the rest of the ride there, staring instead out the window as you felt your world implode beside you.

In the doctors waiting room, Spencer sorted your insurance and medical details, checking boxes and dealing with the desk staff as you sat silently in the corner.

You knew you couldn't hold off telling him much longer. Your body had already begun changing, stomach expanding just enough to be noticeable now you were approaching five months. It's why you hadn't changed clothes around him, hoping that he'd just assumed the change of scenery and stress had led you to gain some weight.

Still, you didn't want your hand forced like this.

“Miss Y/N,” a nurse asked from the desk, and you instinctively replied “Doctor,” though that really wasn't relevant here of all places.

You stood, and Spencer stood with you.

“No,” you said immediately, as he began to march to the doctors office.

“What?” He asked.

“Spencer, you…you can't come in with me.”

“Why not? You're sick, you're suffering, you probably aren't even aware of your symptoms, Y/N. I have to make sure the doctor knows everything so he can accurately diagnose you.”

“Spencer,” you said, closing your eyes as your tone grew angry, attempting to calm yourself down.

“You are not my father, legal guardian, and you're certainly not my husband. You are a colleague I have been forced to share an apartment with because there is some maniac possibly stalking me, though I haven't heard anything about that in a full week. So,” you said, dropping your voice to a whisper and stepping closer. “Back the fuck off and stop acting like I'm some pet project you have to take care of. I'm not a victim, I can talk to a doctor alone.”

You turned and left him in the waiting room, and went to apologise to the doctor for wasting his time.

Luckily, the doctor was more than understanding of the situation. Even after you subtly undermined her professionalism by asking she really stick to her HIPAA oaths or whatever and not let on any information to Spencer at all.

You knew you had to tell him. You were beginning to sound like a broken record in your own head, and you knew it. But you were sure as hell telling him on your own terms.

“Could I possibly make a quick phone call while we're here?” You asked as the doctor performed a quick check up on your baby. You got the go-ahead and dialled Emily's number immediately.

“Y/N, hello. What is it, is something wrong?” she asked as she picked up.

“No, I'm… Emily. I'm going to be honest with you now, and I need your full cooperation. You can't speak a word of this to anyone, especially Spencer.”

A moment of hesitation on the other line, and then she agreed.

“I'm pregnant,” you said. “Spencer is the father.”

“I know,” Emily admitted, sighing slightly.

“Penelope?” You asked, hoping that you didn't have to make another call after this.

“Penelope knows? Irrelevant, sorry. No, there was an ultrasound picture on your desk last week. And I'm good at my job.”

“Is Spencer good at his?” You asked, not sure you wanted a truthful answer. The only thing worse than Spencer finding out you were pregnant by himself was him finding out by himself and not telling you this entire time, his resentment building.

“Yes. But he isn't good at anything when you're around.”

“He's good at pissing me off,” you scoffed, but it caught somewhere in your throat and turned into a sob.

“I'm sorry, I just-” you started crying and your doctor offered you a tissue.

“Y/N, what happened?”

You explained the morning to Emily. Except that you didn't explain your predicament fully, so you explained your week, and then your month, and then eventually your entire acquaintance with Spencer Reid.

“So, yeah,” you ended, chest still shaking with quiet sobs.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, and you replied as honestly as you could muster.

“I don't know.”

You wiped tears and continued before Emily could say anything else.

“But I need time to think about how to tell him again, and I need space. Can you call him into the office?”

“He's at the doctor's office with you?”

“He tried to come into the appointment with me. I yelled at him.”

“You do that often.”

“It's the only thing that works,” you sighed, and continued. “Please, Emily?”

“I'll call him with an excuse. JJ’s close by, I'll have her come and pick you up while the doctor fills your prescription.”

You smiled and felt the pressure wash off your shoulders as you hung up.

Then you stepped out of the doctors office and back into the waiting room and were almost knocked back on your ass when you spotted Spencer in the corner of the room.

He was exactly where you'd left him, bit at some point the waiting room had been populated by young mothers, and Spencer was now animatedly locked in a conversation with a toddling small boy, playing with the toys as he passed the time.

Your lip wobbled and you almost broke down before he looked up at you and you blinked back the tears.

He gave you a confused smile, checking that you were okay before you nodded.

You didn't move to join him, though, and like clockwork, his phone rang. He excused himself, pointing at his phone to let you know where he was going, and you finally breathed easily, knowing that Emily was sticking to her promise.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #reiderslibrary #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid series #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n

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fafnir19 · 6 months ago

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Genie's lamp

Lex strolled along the cobblestone streets of the small coastal town, soaking in the salty breeze that whispered tales of the sea. His summer holidays had brought him here, seeking respite from the bustling city life and his studies that had consumed him for so long. As he wandered, a glint of light caught his eye, drawing him to a narrow side street where an ancient-looking shop stood, its wooden sign creaking in the wind. Intrigued, Lex pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped inside, the musty smell of old books and incense enveloping him. Shelves lined with peculiar artifacts and trinkets stretched out before him, each item holding a hint of mystery within its aged confines. "Welcome, young traveler," a voice called out, drawing Lex's attention to a figure behind the counter. Declan, the shop owner, stood before him, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Feel free to browse my collection. I must make a quick errand to the post office, but I'll return shortly." As Declan made his exit, Lex's curious gaze wandered over the shelves filled with curiosities from distant lands. His eyes landed on a tarnished Arabic lamp, its intricate designs whispering of tales untold.

As he lifted the lamp, a playful grin tugged at his lips, recalling childhood tales of genies and their whimsical magic. He rubbed the lamp absentmindedly, half-expecting nothing but a puff of dust to emerge. Lex's eyes widened in awe as he watched the ancient lamp in his hands start to emit wisps of smoke. His heart raced with excitement, a smile spreading across his face. The air crackled with energy as the smoke coalesced into a muscular figure, clad in black leather harem pants, standing with their back to him.

"Cool, a real genie! I already know what I will wish for! Ahm… what’s actually your name, genie?" Lex exclaimed, overcome with excitement. Turning slowly to face Lex, the genie's eyes gleamed with a potent mix of mischief and malevolence. "I am Jafar," the genie rumbled, his voice laced with authority "You will refer to me as Master, mere mortal." Confusion clouded Lex's features at the genie's command. "Master? What do you mean?" he spluttered, uncertainty tainting his tone. The genie's next words sent a shiver down Lex's spine. "Kneel before me and submit," Jafar commanded, his voice steely with power. Fear gripped Lex's heart, his instincts urging him to flee as he took a step back. With a shaky voice, he stammered, "I...I have to go." His heart raced as he made a break for the door. But before he could make it, an unseen force lifted him off the ground, tendrils of smoke enveloping him. Panic seized him as he felt himself turning to smoke, his very essence slipping away.

The laughter of the genie echoed around him as Lex found himself being pulled into the ancient lamp. Inside, the world shifted around him, his clothes transforming into exotic harem pants and golden rings adorning his limbs.

Panic surged through Lex as he pounded against the walls of the lamp, trying to break free from this strange and terrifying prison. Jafar, the genie, held the lamp nonchalantly, observing Lex's futile attempts with amusement.

"You're quite the spirited one, aren't you?" Jafar's voice dripped with malicious charm. "But fear not, the lamp's magic will soon calm you and make you more... impressionable." A strange calmness settled over Lex, his mind clouding with a soothing fog. "Relax, kneel," the genie's voice commanded, its tone both hypnotic and commanding. Filled with a strange sense of peace, Lex obeyed, his anxiety giving way to a bizarre sense of acceptance.

Lex's thoughts grew foggy, his will bending to the genie's influence. "It has always been your hidden desire to help others," Jafar purred. "What better way than to serve me?" Finding a strange sense of logic in the genie's words, Lex embraced the idea of serving.

Followed by the genie's revelations about Lex's yearning for confidence and independence hit uncomfortably close to home. "Your struggles stem from your desire to be strong, my dear Lex," Jafar continued, his voice a luring whisper. "You do not need to be strong yourself, but to walk in the shadow of greatness," Jafar's words resonated within Lex's soul. The genie continued, his voice like a hypnotic melody. "Simply follow a strong master, and you shall find your purpose." A revelation dawned upon Lex, a realization that perhaps he had been searching for guidance all along. Lex felt a strange sense of clarity wash over him and gratitude swelled in his chest as Jafar offered his help and guidance. So, Lex embraced the notion of relinquishing his independence and accepted willingly, to follow where the genie led with a newfound sense of purpose.

Jafar's words cut through the haze, revealing a truth about Lex that he had never acknowledged. "All your struggles stem from one simple truth you deny," Jafar's voice carried a weight of finality. "You are secretly gay, Lex." Lex's breath caught in his throat, his mind racing as he grappled with the unexpected revelation. Could it be true? Had he been blind to his own desires all along? “But... but I’ve never...” Lex's voice faltered, uncertainty clouding his mind. Jafar demanded, "Admit it. Say it aloud. Acknowledge who you truly are." Doubt flickered in Lex' eyes, but after a moment of hesitation, he said, "I...I'm..." his voice trembled before he took a deep breath and uttered the words, "I'm gay, Master." Jafar's laughter rang out, a mix of triumph and satisfaction.

"Well done, my obedient pleasure boy. Embrace your new self." Lex felt a strange mix of liberation and vulnerability wash over him as he acknowledged his hidden truth, sending ripples of change through his being. As the words hung in the air, a wave of acceptance washed over him, mingling with the confusion and fear that clouded his thoughts. Before he could dwell on his newfound revelation, Jafar swiftly sprung into the lamp.

Jafar's eyes danced with triumph as he took a step closer to Lex, his movements predatory and sinuous. With a swift motion, he caressed Lex thighs and member through the delicate fabric of the harem pants. A moan escaped Lex's lips as he felt the undeniable response of his body to Jafar's touch. The genie's dark eyes held a predatory gleam as he watched Lex' cock respond eagerly to his dominance. "That's mine now, right?" he purred, his voice dripping with power and desire. Lex's response was a guttural moan, a simple "Yes, Master," escaping his lips as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. Jafar's grip on Lex's chin was firm yet gentle as he lifted his gaze, locking eyes with him in an unspoken command. "Show me your devotion," he demanded, his voice laced with undeniable authority. Feeling a mix of devotion and arousal, Lex knelt before Jafar, his hands trembling as he reached for the genie's leather-clad thighs.

As he sucked Jafar’s dick, his mind clouded with submission, a strange eagerness washing over him. The genie's deep chuckle filled the air as Lex' obedience pleased him.

As Jafar reached the heights of pleasure, Lex obediently swallowed every drop of his master's cum, savoring it with an appetite fueled by his submission. Jafar's dark laughter mixed with Lex's moans, creating a symphony of domination and pleasure within the confines of the magical lamp. Just when the intensity of the moment peaked, a sudden interruption shattered the moment. The shop owner's return brought a jolt of reality to the surreal scene unfolding before him. Declan's eyes widened in surprise as he took in the sight of the genie and the student, frozen in a moment of twisted bliss. "Ah, Declan, your timing is impeccable as always," Jafar's voice dripped with smooth amusement, his gaze lingering on Lex with a knowing look. Lex's cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal, unsure of what would come next in this unexpected encounter between master, servant, and unwitting spectator. The air crackled with tension, a sense of anticipation hanging heavy in the magical shop.

Declan's voice cut through the silence like a sharp blade, "Jafar, I wish that you let the boy free!" His words held a tone of authority that demanded obedience. Jafar's eyes narrowed, but he begrudgingly complied, knowing he had to obey Declan's wish. "Your wish is my command, master," he hissed through clenched teeth. In a swirl of magic and smoke, Lex was released from the confines of the lamp, standing once more in the shop, his eyes wide with a mix of relief and confusion.

Declan approached Lex, his gaze filled with sympathy as he explained the gravity of the situation. "I arrived just in time. A few minutes later, and Jafar would have transformed you into a genie for good," he revealed, his tone grave yet comforting. Gratitude swelled within Lex as he realized the extent of Declan's intervention. He had been spared a fate worse than he could imagine.

Lex mind was still reeling from the whirlwind of the events that had unfolded and he felt a sense of overwhelming fatigue wash over him. "I think that's enough excitement for one day. It's time for me to leave," he mumbled wearily, ready to escape the bewildering events of the day. Yet, Declan's words halted him in his tracks, his gaze locking onto Lex with a mix of intent and purpose. "As you have already swallowed Jafar’s seed, you have gained magical powers that need to be trained," Declan explained, his tone unwavering. "You must become my sorcerer apprentice now."

Lex's mind reeled at the sudden shift in his destiny. From a simple student on holiday to now a budding sorcerer under Declan's guidance, his life had taken a dramatic turn.

Though Declan reassured him that Jafar's revelation about his supposed hidden gay desires was part of the genie's corrupting influence, a lingering sense of longing remained within Lex. The memory of serving Jafar, albeit under false pretenses, had stirred something deep within him.

As Lex embarked on this new chapter of his life, delving into the world of magic and sorcery under Declan's tutelage, he couldn't shake off the echoes of his encounter with the genie. The allure of power, the pull of submission, and the whispers of forbidden desires tugged at the edges of his consciousness.

And so, Lex's journey into the realm of mysticism and enchantment began, marked by the lingering shadows of his past encounter and the uncertain promise of what lay ahead as he navigated the path to becoming a powerful sorcerer and, perhaps, mastering the depths of his own desires.

#male tf #male transformation #servant #mystery #genie #genie's lamp #gay tf #submision #straight to gay

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imagining-in-the-margins · 9 months ago

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CM New Beginnings Fics

Hey everyone! Thank you so much to everyone who participated. I am so happy to share everyone’s hard work. If you have a oneshot or masterlist you’d like me to add, please send me a message - new additions are always welcome.

First, check out @emberfrostlovesloki 's 🌈 Masterlist of Entries ☀️: This lovely prolific writer has entered several fics, which include Hotch, Emily, and Spencer fics! Check out their page for even more!

🌼 SFW S.R./Reader Entries 🌼

Play Dates by me: [GN] Reader finds out Spencer hasn’t had many dates and offers several Play Dates.

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder by @foxy-eva: [GN] Spencer was the right person at the wrong time, no doubt about it. When Reader is finally back in town, they're ready for a fresh start.

You're Gonna Go Far, Love by @writer-in-theory: [GN] After relapsing, Spencer takes the first flight with no plan other than to get a fresh start.

Love Like the Sea by @rynwritesreid: [GN] After Spencer lost Maeve, he swore of love, until Reader came around.

Cowboy Like Me by @foxy-eva: [Fem] Spencer decides to fulfill a childhood dream to become a cowboy.

In Sickness and In Health by @pathologicalreid: [Fem] Minutes before Reader's wedding is supposed to start, Spencer gets cold feet.

Maybe We Found Love Right Where We Are by @andiebeaword: [Fem] Spencer just got engaged to Maeve on Valentine’s Day. Finding out his best friend’s heart will be broken changes things.

More ratings and pairings below!

🌼 Other Pairings/Gen SFW Fics 🌼

Silent Demon by @angellsell: [Derek/Fem!Reader] Reader celebrates a month milestone of sobriety, but she isn't very proud of it.

Hearts on Our Sleeves by @angellsell: [Hotch/Fem!Reader] Aaron and Reader decide to give a try at a new relationship after a long dry spell.

Good Fortune by @reasonablerodents: [Hotchreid] Spencer and Aaron are the only ones without a partner for a New Year's Kiss.

And When Dawn Came by @snarkylinda: [Gen] Spencer calls Emily the night that Cat has the baby he decided to adopt.

The Date by @codename-mom: [Gen] Jessica didn't expect what her former brother-in-law was going to ask her.

Last Recruit by @/codename-mom: [Gen] There's a new agent at the BAU eager to start her new life. Her name is Penelope Garcia.

First Steps by @/codename-mom: [Gen] Rossi found a young agent named Aaron Hotchner who could be a good new recruit for the BAU.

First Day at School by @/codename-mom: [Gen] Jack is now old enough to go at school and his father has trouble to deal with this very special day.

🌼 NSFW Entries (S.R./Fem!R) 🌼

Second Time's a Charm by @foxy-eva: Back in college Spencer Reid and Fem!Reader left many things unsaid. Years later they give it another try.

It’s Too Cliché by me: Reader and Spencer are the worst at friends with benefits. After an exchange of gifts & nasty words, the two reunite on a very eventful NYE.

For the Love of Lace by @reidmotif: Reader decides she doesn't want to pine for her best friend anymore but needs his help deciding what lingerie to wear for her date.

Sweet Agony by @incognit0slut: After tragedy, Reader believed she was unworthy of love. Spencer proves her wrong.

Maybe Someday by @dudeitiskarev: (Mini-series) A case brought you back to Spencer, and this time, he won’t let you slip away.

Co-Creator Bonus List

🌼 SFW S.R./Fem!R Fics 🌼

The Only Hoax I Believe In by Foxy: Spencer struggles with his addiction after prison until Reader is determined to help him, no matter the cost.

The Perfect Plan by me: Reader has a question for Spencer, but things don’t go according to plan.

Impromptu by me: Reader learns some shocking news when a case lands her in the hospital.

Defining Family by me: Spencer finds out he’s a dad… to a twelve year old girl. Your twelve year old girl, who just broke into the FBI.

Clean Shaven by me: Reader helps Spencer shave after prison.

Drunk Dial by me: It’s been years since Reader talked to Spencer, but after a bunch of drinks it seems like a really good idea.

Repentance by me: Spencer is confronted with his second chance at life, finding it full of regrets. Reader tries to talk him through it.

Happy Hydrangea by me: TransMan!Reader. JJ is corrected in finding out Spencer has had a boyfriend for a while now.

🌼 NSFW S.R./Fem!R Fics 🌼

Lily of the Valley (Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3) by me: Unsub!Reid. Spencer was found guilty but mentally ill after the torture and murder of several men. He finds solace in his psychiatrist at the institution.

Duet by Foxy: Letting the love of his life get away was Spencer’s biggest regret, so he decides to go after her.

Honeymoon by Foxy: Spencer and his wife are excited about their future (and their honeymoon).

To Have and To Hold by me: Reader is trying to save her marriage, but Spencer seems resigned to its failure.

Stork Song by me: Spencer and Reader try to find intimacy again following a terrible loss.

Domesticity by me: Reader gets worked up watching Spencer with kids. He notices.

Different Kind of Daddy by me: After a rough day, Reader has good news for her husband.

🌼 Other SFW Pairings 🌼

Till Death Do Us Part by Foxy: [Emily/GN!Reader] Reader didn't expect grief to linger after Emily came back from the dead.

Motherhood by Foxy: [Tara/Emily] Emily and Tara finally become mothers.

Happy Reading!

P.S. If I missed your fic or you have a new one to add, feel free to send me a message. I would love to add it!

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds challenge #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchreid #criminal minds gen fic #cm gen fic

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ghostsandmermaids · 1 month ago

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Podcasts To Listen To If You Like OFMD

Today is the anniversary of the finale of Our Flag Means Death season 2. One whole year without our favorite pirates :( But if you miss OFMD as much as I do, I have some podcast recommendations I think you'd enjoy!

If you want more queer pirates:

Trice Forgotten

Trice Forgotten is a found-family, pirating adventure. Alestes puts her head down working as a merchant, couriering deliveries and carrying travelers to destinations across the seas. Only, her travelers gradually become permanent crewmates, until she realises her ship has become a floating museum, laboratory, vault of repatriated ‘treasures’ and chef’s kitchen. After spending most of her life with the understanding that nothing changes, no matter how hard you fight, Alestes is faced with a choice: Will she use her new network of allies to build safe harbour and potentially a future for her new community, or will she once again put her head down and drown in her sea of excuses…

Queer neurodivergent pirates of color! Found family! Homoerotic sword fights! What else do you want? (And they even talk about OFMD in one of the Below Decks episodes!)

The Ballad of Anne & Mary

It's 1721, and London is abuzz with news of notorious pirates Anne Bonny and Mary Read, currently languishing in Newgate Prison. It’s the perfect time for debt-ridden journalist Nathaniel Mist to exploit the public appetite and ghost-write a sensational (and hopefully best-selling) history of pirates. But as the balladeers and gossips on the streets of London build myths around the blood-thirsty, perverse lady pirates, Mist is forced to reckon with the real Bonny & Read… Featuring musical sensation Christina Bianco, actress and comedian Sooz Kempner, Hamilton star Karl Queensborough, drag legend Le Gateau Chocolat, and more.

If you can't get enough of Anne Bonny and Mary Read, listen to this podcast musical about them!

If you want more queer comedies:

Welcome To Night Vale

Welcome To Night Vale is a twice-monthly podcast in the style of community updates for the small desert town of Night Vale, featuring local weather, news, announcements from the Sheriff's Secret Police, mysterious lights in the night sky, dark hooded figures with unknowable powers, and cultural events. Turn on your radio and hide.

Okay, it's a horror comedy and can be creepy at times, but it's also one of the few shows that have made me laugh as much as OFMD.

Starship Q Star

When a space agency sends the “first all woman and non-binary crew” on a blatant PR mission to Mars, they inadvertently end up the last six humans in the universe. Lead by Co-Captains (and exes) Aurelia and Sim, Starship Q Star follows this madcap crew on their quest across the galaxy in search of a new home… which is basically one hilarious mishap after the other.

I suppose if you found the absolutely two perfect ex-girlfriends and sent them to Mars, then they could potentially… co-captain?

If you want more queer historical comedies:

Fawx & Stallion

London, 1889. When the residents of 221B Baker Street leave town for the weekend to solve one of their most famous cases, no one is left to clear a poor housekeeper’s name of a crime she didn’t commit. Well, no one except for their neighbors at 224B…

Tonally, this is probably the closest to OFMD. I started this podcast yesterday and fell in love with it immediately. If you like OFMD and Sherlock Holmes, please check out Fawx & Stallion!

The Kingmaker Histories

On the 19th of February, 1911, in the Valorian Socialist Republic, an assistant tailor named Colette Geise experienced a migraine that ruined her life. This is a historical account of what happened next. THE KINGMAKER HISTORIES is a steampunk weird fiction podcast about being gay and doing crime, brought to you by the freaks who brought you Less Is Morgue.

Alternate history + magic + comedy + queerness. Do I need to say more?

If you want more (queer) rom-coms:

Me and AU

When Kate “ACunningPlan” Cunningham sparks up an online friendship with a fellow fanfiction writer it seems like the perfect distraction from a summer stuck in her hometown of Kamloops, B.C., not to mention the coming terrors of her final year of university and the Real Adult Future beyond. (Seriously, please don’t mention them.) After all, Hella--Enchanted is funny, smart and writes canon-divergent werewolf fic like no one else. She’s everything a fandom could ask for. But… what if she’s everything Kate could ask for, too?

Me and AU is not only an adorable sapphic rom-com, but also a love letter to fandom! Go listen to this, it's so cute!

Life With LEO(h)

A sci-fi(ish) romantic comedy podcast starring a repressed lawyer, a criminal client, a pesky sister and her fiance, an infuriatingly sexy coworker, and an android in the mood for love. Jeanine Bell is a robotics intelligence lawyer whose laser focus on her career has come at the expense of her romantic and social lives. After successfully keeping AI genius Penelope Lane out of prison, Jeanine receives the gift of LEO(h), an android with Synthetic Sentience. LEO(h) is Loving, Empathetic, Optimistic, and (only sorta) helpful. He's programmed to love Jeanine. He’s also very, very illegal.

I'm only two episodes in and already so invested in this story! Jeanine and LEO(h) are absolutely adorable.

(Note: as far as I know, the main romance isn't queer, but there are other queer characters in the show.)

If you want more queer found families:

Hello From The Hallowoods

Darker than your dreams, and farther North than you remember, there is a forest where life and death meet… Come walk between the black pines! In this award-winning queer fiction podcast, a cosmic narrator follows the increasingly connected residents of the forest at the end of the world. It's a bittersweet story that explores queer identity, horror genre tropes, and finding hope in humanity's last moments.

Did I only add HFTH to the list because it's my all-time favorite podcast and I want more people to listen to it? Maybe. But I also genuinely think that if you like OFMD, you are going to love some of these characters. Check out my fandom manifesto if you want to learn more!

Starfall

Starfall is a fantasy audio drama about the adventures of the Carouvel Traveling Acting Troupe - a theatre troupe that uses magical items to create illusions for their shows as they move around the Falstenian Empire. The story begins as the troupe is joined by Leona, a young warrior with a mysterious past and even more mysterious powers. With their new guardian in tow, the troupe traverses the continent, encountering the dangers of humans, fae, and greater forces alike, all while still trying to put on a good show.

Remember Stede's fuckery play in S1E6? Now you can listen to a fantasy theatre troupe put on magical plays! How cool is that?

If you want more of the cast:

Kisses in the Dark

Against the bright lights of Blackpool, a supernatural killer is at work and a dark and dangerous love affair begins… A sinister, disturbingly romantic seven part podcast drama written by Marty Ross (BBC’s Catch My Breath & Ghost Zone and Audible’s The Darkwater Bride) and starring Con O’Neill (Chernobyl, The Batman) and Rhiannon Clements. A contemporary Gothic horror tale set against a background of life on the narrow edge between Pleasure Beach and wild cold sea, between secret desire and a deadly evil. Also starring, Kyle Rowe, Pamela Mayoss, Steven Gidwaney, Patrick Price & Ryan Clayton.

Con O'Neill plays one of the main characters!

What Will Be Here?

In What Will Be Here?, five friends send a rocket to space with a collection of recordings on it that document the world’s decline, the stories they want to tell, and their efforts in building this rocket to get their message to the stars. They wonder what their world will have become by the time their message is listened to. At its core, this show is about living and creating when things feel pointless. It's a story that came out of the pandemic, and the landscape in which this story was written and produced greatly influenced how it turned out. What Will Be Here? is set on earth 200 years in the future, where large-scale crises are fully normalized. But despite the bleak backdrop, this story is one of hope - of overcoming challenges, of making things that might be temporary, but also things that might be launched into space and continue on forever.

Vico Ortiz plays one of the main characters!

Dungeon Masters

Dungeon Masters takes a behind-the-curtain look into the world of Dungeons & Dragons, told through the lenses of the creator of the game, Gary Gygax, played by Wil Wheaton and of private investigator, William Dear, played by Jon Hamm, a swashbuckling tough guy in 1979. Gygax guides the audience through this incredible true story as our Dungeon Master, as we follow Dear on his quest to find Dallas Egbert, a Michigan State student, who supposedly disappeared in the steam tunnels under his university while enacting a real-life version of D&D. What Dear encounters on this journey and ultimately discovers, defies all expectations, and changes the culture as we know it.

Kristian Nairn plays one of the main characters!

The Diaries of Netovicius the Vampire

Neto is an artist first, an immortal vampire second, but for now he's being kicked out of his Beacon Hill apartment in Boston Mass. That's where we begin, but more than a year into this audio-series I can't believe the journey Neto, and me, the creator have been on. But that's a longer story than I can get into here. For now, I hope there is something in this audio-series for you. It's about vampires, but ultimately it's about recovery, from trauma, from alcoholism, even from cults. It asks: Does time really heal all wounds? Featuring VAs known for Valorant, Diablo IV & Overwatch

Written and performed by Hugo Pierre Martin!

The Cryptid Factor

Three best buddies - Rhys Darby, Dan Schreiber, and Leon 'Buttons' Kirkbeck bring you The Cryptid Factor - a podcast dedicated to all things weird that are yet to be defined by science. Since 2008 they have passionately (and often awkwardly) been discussing 'cryptids' and monsters like Yeti, Chupacabra, Bigfoot and Nessie - as well as weird news of the world, UFO's, Time travellers, robots and space stuff. Though they take these pseudosciences as seriously as they can, they struggle to take themselves seriously at all. Hosted by comedian and actor Rhys Darby, star of top rating podcast 'No Such Thing as a Fish' Dan Schreiber - and Pulling it all together is their best friend, 'Buttons'. If anything goes wrong, it is probably his fault.

Rhys Darby is one of the hosts!

Date My Abuelita, First!

From Executive Producer Wilmer Valderrama comes a dating show that proves abuelita knows best! Host Vico Ortiz alongside our resident abuelita, Liliana are ready to meet their match! Three single contestants will compete for a date with one lucky guest. Through speed-dating rounds, hilarious games, wildly silly and genuinely heartfelt introspections, and grandmotherly love, one contestant will either be a step closer to love or be sent back to the apps. Abuelita holds all the cupid power, so let the chispas fly!

Vico Ortiz is one of the hosts!

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