#i love her so much and i am so angry about her death
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Agatha Thought of the Day:
Thinking about the way the costume designers placed a piece of real black obsidian in Rioâs Lady Death costume to represent her black heart. And thinking about the way the obsidian is exposed and on display in the center of her chest.
There is something so beautiful about Death coming to cross you beyond, her heart on full display for you to see. There is something so delicate and human about the way itâs bound, vulnerable, in the center of this reaping god. And there is something so heartbreaking about the fact that every single time Rio is around Agatha, itâs covered. Layered under clothes and skin â shielded â until the last scene, where she finally presents herself as Death again. The fight with Agatha, the unresolved feelings finally exposedâ the pain of âexpel this evilâ, the desperation in âI am the natural order of all things, baby. And you love meâ, the angry shake of âwhy donât you want meâŠ?â. Agatha, finally kissing her again after so much time. Agatha, dying in her hands. And Rioâs heart laid bare and unprotected for all of it.
#the costume design of this show is absolutely insane and it needs the recognition it deserves#agatha thought of the day#agatha all along#agatha all along spoilers#agatha harkness#rio vidal#lady death#aubrey plaza
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Thinking about Valentina tonight. Thinking about how she was a poor sex worker just trying to make it in the world and got manipulated and conned into Ceciliaâs scam because, come on, itâs just pretending to be a nurse for a little while and sheâll definitely split the money with you and itâs easy, easy cash and she was probably desperate
And how she literally got sexually assaulted right fucking before being thrown into a torture trap - already seen as trash by the masses just because sheâs a sex worker. It probably wasnât the first time sheâd been attacked like that, either
About her waking up, tied to a pipe-cross, terrified, confused, sitting in a dirty room with people she hardly knew, especially the blonde âdoctorâ who had claimed her share of the easy cash would change her life, give her at least something. But instead of that, she gets tossed into a trap by a man who claims to have this insane moral code as if he were God, but is so easily transparent and is so obviously full of shit. You cannot judge a personâs entire morality on one mistake, one act of desperation. John would know best, even good people do gray things when backed into a corner
And then, sheâs up first - her trap was arguably the most brutal, the most painful, the most dangerous - she had hardly any time to think before the timer is clicking down, Cecilia is screaming at her to âjust do it! Just saw your leg off! Itâs fine youâll be fine! Save yourself save yourself save yourself!!!!â as if she were some goddamn cheerleader at a game, as if it were her hands that held a piece of metal that was about to cut through her own femur
Sheâs a crying mess, just a woman who wasnât all good but certainly not all bad, certainly undeserving of this fate, at least. She doesnât think she can muster the courage to do it, but the proximity of the saw to her exposed neck makes her understand - she doesnât want to fucking die.
Then she manages to do it, actually fucking do it - force a braid of wire right down the meat of her thigh, right through every artery and vein, every ligament and muscle, right through to the bone, and then some. Blood literally gushing like a hot spring, and sheâs screaming nonsensically, the pain incomprehensible, unlike anything she, or any normal person, had ever felt before. And Cecilia is still yelling at her to not think just do it, but her hands shake and tremble, her brain screaming at her to stop mutilating herself, and all the while the timer is continuing to tick down.
And she moves the saw back and forth and back and forth and back and forth until pop
Her leg slides clean off, right at the dotted line.
And still, through all of that trauma and excruciating pain, sheâs able to take her bloody, shaking hands and attach the suction to her exposed femur as steady as she could, like she was supposed to, crying and sniffling and probably so pumped full of adrenaline and terror and feelings no human should ever have to feel. And sheâs sit having to watch the timer tick down to zero, panicking, screaming for her life, but the goddamn tube was too long, took too long, didnât pump enough of the liquefied marrow into the strainerâ
And she gets a saw-wire through her neck at a painfully slow pace, and her head on the floor.
After all of that, she still fucking dies a horrific death. She saws her own goddamn leg off, and she still dies - and if she had literally a second more time, she would have survived - the trap at least. Who knows if she could have lived any sort of trip to a hospital, the amount of blood lost, shock coursing through her veins.
And then to have her deceased body disrespected and mutilated by the woman who had claimed to help her, provide for her, talked her into the scam in the first place, her stomach torn open haphazardly and her intestines pooled around the room like some dirty rope. Her decapitated head used as a prop piece.
Iâm just thinking about Valentina and her last moments so full of pain, how scared she was. How she didnât deserve that, at all, how the woman who was the mastermind behind it all got to walk with hardly a scratch. How Valentinaâs punishment did not fit her crime and how skewed Johnâs logic was.
And for Amanda to then rattle on about how Valentina didnât harbor the will to live - bitch please. Iâd like to see anyone else slice their leg off at the thigh in a matter of minutes after waking up confused, scared, unknowing of what was about to happen to them. And to be the first one up to bat? If anyone had the will to live that night, it was fucking Valentina. My girl went through the wringer and she got absolutely nothing in return.
She should have lived she should have lived she should have fucking lived
#i have so many feelings about her#i love her so much and i am so angry about her death#saw#saw x#number one valentina stan RIGHT HERE AND YALL DONT FORGET IT
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#im bout to say smth really fucked up about binnieâs passing#but i hope his death wasnt because of s*ic*de#ive seen and heard some awful things like how could he do that to sua? to his mother on her birthday? and that kind of stuff and its so#its so insane like do you think anyone wants to do that to thwir loved ones???#and im not one to explain for someone whos gone much less someone i never knew personally#but considering how much he loves the ppl around him uâd think that heâd leave a ******* note#does that make sense??#or am i being really fucking rude i hope someone sets me straight if i am pleade#please*#i just think it was so fucking crazy for someone to be like. how can he be INCONSIDERATE to do that to his mother#that made me so damn angry#i dont think this is making much sense sorry but i just. how the hell can you say that about someone whos passed
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I'm watching Taskmaster backwards (GF got me to watch S14 live and I just ended up watching it reverse chronologically) and this is my tier list so far
#taskmaster#i am in love with victoria im so sorry#she's a nerd with a customized inhaler who could orchestrate my death if she wanted to#i predict myself reading her poker memoir and the time she produced a porno with her friends in a few months#only 3 eps into series 11 so their tiers might change but this is how i feel about them so far#funny thing is sarah is who im rooting for & consider my 'fave' but i only generally like her cause she isn't really wildly funny as of now#she's just sorta like a happy crush lmao#meanwhile mike wozniak is an honorary madwoman--fucking love him in his little business outfit and his little mustache#looks all prim and proper but before you know it he's fucking climbing over the fence#and charlotte is so fucking pathetic meow meow i love her#just going on about her 18th century tankard...like she's not a comedian but she's so sincere and everyone bullies her HHAAHAHA#john from s14 makes me feel the same way...he's not sincere but greg bullies him so much and he always looks like he's on the verge of#tears even tho he isn't even sad he just looks like that AHHAHAHA#i feel bad for lee cause he looks like that type of white middle aged man who thinks too highly of himself (he doesn't act that way but#he looks like it) so i'm biased against him and he hasn't done anything to make me fall in love with him like dara or arnel or alan have#jamali scares me a bit cause there have been times where he stirs so much shit and im scared someone's gonna get genuinely angry or#offended...if he mellows down a bit tho it'd be great cause i do generally love his shit stirring#in general tho i have the same amount of love for the 4 tiers in the middle--'fave'; 'unhinged'; 'love'; 'pathetic meow meow'--some of#them just have specific feelings attached#i love the whole casts of s12 13 and 14 so so fucking much they're all amazing and hilarious
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why do I get so angry so easily
#one of our TNR people was complaining abt ppl being angry abt how much native wildlife feral cats kill#and said like 'well yeah but they also kill mice and things that dont need to be there' ??!?!????#there are NATIVE MICE you know?? holy fuck dude#i love her to death but jfc#girl...... feral cats have wiped species off the fuckin map#they are a bit of a damn fuckin problem#but i mean as long as she still does TNR i dont wanna argue it yknow#cause she is doing good and she is lowering population numbers#and shes dedicated as Fuck to all this#i just.. i JUST ......#oughdgdhhhh why am i so pissed off about tbis#somethinf something lack of education and passion for native species#for ALL native species
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So. What would jiang yanking do if she had to face some Jc-coded struggles in the narrative? Will she rage like her brother? Will she ignore the problem until it went away (it didnât) like her face? Will she use soup to "disolve" the problem into an after-lunch struggle? Will she eloquently call people out bc they are being mean to a baby? Who knows! Not us bc jyl, in true "I love everyone equally and I am not problematic about it" fashion, died almost inmediatly after having to face "so maybe my love canât be guilt-free and uncomplicated now" struggle! I mean, his brother just (accidentally? She hopes fervently it is accidentally but itâs not very clear) killed her beloved husband! In cold blood!! So now she is in the worst political position for any young woman ever (no protection against JGS and also his court I suppose) AND with a baby to raise! All alone! Also, is WWX dead? Is he really dead??? Bc they already thought that once and then he unhingedly appeared!also,,,, is jyl as a "good, harmless, warm and loving" woman allowed to rage? To grieve? To grow? Bc I think not.
'I think the most important person in Jiang Yanli's life in a Yanli Lives AU should be her son. It just might not make such an interesting narrative, especially when a person might actually be trying to write a story about Wei Wuxian.' This take makes me rage everytime.
First of all, why are you writing an au about jyl, if you want to write a story about wwx???????? If it's about her, HER feelings matter.
Second of all, in canon jl was bullied for being an orphan. And in the same place where jyl was mocked (because she was meek, not beautiful, etc), are you saying people are not going to bully jl for his useless mother and his lack of a father??? And jyl, after watching her son being bullied, doesn't have complicated feelings???? Her son doesn't have a father anymore, because her brother has killed him, and jyl is perfectly chill about it????
Are you kidding me????? I find very compelling a story about a mother who is trying to raise her son and confront her complicated feelings toward her dead brother, while navigating the political nightmare lanling is.
#I actually donât like her character very much#aside from the drama of her death her character could have had been idk Jc milk nanny from childhood#a warm refuge too powerless to do anything about anything but that was always welcoming to the boys#idk man maybe I am being mean#I just. hate this narrative bc jyl whole character isâŠ.so passive and next to Jc and WWX it feels so background-like?#but also can WWX be the good guy if the one he hurt is not his always hurt always angry not very charming shidi#but instead his warm and understanding and loving and welcoming shijie?#bc people act like Jc did not have reasons to be hurt or to be angry at WWX bc it was all a âmisunderstandingâ#idk I like yunmeng sibs but by god they is sth so toxic about them if you stop to think about their dynamics#like Jc being a second rate sibling and still the most important bc he is the heir#or Yanli being never allowed to play or collaborate in shenanigans just to care for them after#or WWX continuously proving he is better than them in all things he can prove he is better than them and then being guilty about it? idk
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âi am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.â
summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.
pairing/s: poly!marauders + lily x reader.
tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.
note: there is little plot, itâs just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.
âMY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, youâre my mum â one of my âem, actually. Itâs complicated. And youâre married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.âÂ
You blink.Â
âGet the fuck out of my room!âÂ
Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudleyâs sloppy punches, but heâs never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old motherâs fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesnât know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep â itâs not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermioneâs nagging and brilliant plan-making.Â
At present â or past, Harry guesses â he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that heâs encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isnât this the last thing heâs supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good â just this once, heâd like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls.Â
âIf youâd just let me explain, mumâ!â Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, youâre crazy. âPlease!âÂ
âStop calling me that!â You screech, eyes set ablaze. Harry finds that youâre quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook â which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesnât dare complain because youâre his mother, and heâs respectful like that â and after youâve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. âIf this is another one of the Prewettâs shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girlsâ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you arenât walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!âÂ
âYouâre a Death-Eater?â Harry asks dumbly.Â
You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. âI wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.âÂ
âProfessor,â Harry corrects with a toothy grin. âProfessor McGonagall.âÂ
You slam his head against the wall.
Definitely the wrong thing to say.Â
Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise heâd end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure youâd use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies.Â
âYou hate your father,â Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remusâs stories of how you were the gentlest magical being heâs ever had the privilege to love â now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. âHeâs forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. Itâs the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.â Â
Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. âThis isnât funny.âÂ
âItâs not meant to be funny, mum,â Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically â strange how this is the most heâs ever uttered the word, mum; itâs a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. âYou have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, andââÂ
âThatâs enough!â You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. âI donât know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.âÂ
Harry scoffs â you donât understand. Everything heâs learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them â but you were dead in Harryâs time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you.Â
(âSheâs a different kind of beautiful,â Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, âThe kind of beautiful you donât want to take your eyes off from because youâre afraid sheâll disappear from your eyes. But you wonât forget her, oh no, youâll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was â is glorious.â)Â
âI told you,â says Harry firmly â although he loves his mother very much, sheâs beginning to wear him out, âMy name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.â A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing heâs looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. âItâsââÂ
âA family heirloom,â You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. âWhere did you steal this from?âÂ
Harry rolls his eyes. âYou left it for me in my Gringotts vault. Itâs my heirloom now. You have to believe me, thereâs no way you can deny this.âÂ
You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed â Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. âMagic, amirite?âÂ
You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. âSleep. The other girls wonât be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. Itâs way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.âÂ
Harry smiles. âYes, mum.âÂ
ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didnât know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (âSuit yourself.â You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. âJust saying, those dark circles arenât doing you any favors.â)
âWhat am I like in the future?â You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home.Â
Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size â you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. Itâs come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green â because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (âNo sonââ You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still canât accept the fact. Harry doesnât blame you. ââno son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.â And Harry finds that he really doesnât care, so long as you call him your son.)Â Â
âLoved,â replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror â they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one heâs stared at so many times as a child. Itâs a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had â that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were â are â loved, and Harry thinks thereâs no better description than that.Â
(âI bloody hated her cat,â says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. âSirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.â)Â
You hum knowingly. âStupid question, I guess. Since you arenât allowed to reveal anything more about the future.â You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. âExcept, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become â no offense, I just donât see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.âÂ
Harry doesnât need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze.Â
Luckily, you donât notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, âBut you donât seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.âÂ
âThanks for the image,â says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where heâll be staying, thank you very much.Â
âAnytime,â You reply with an impish smile.Â
Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. âYou need a trim soon,â You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp â and Harry knows exactly whatâs coming next. âOh, youâve got Evansâs eyes. Thatâs freaky.âÂ
âI know.â Harry grins.Â
âHereâs the plan,â You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression â because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. âJust say youâre Potterâs distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and youâve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, theyâll believe it eventually.âÂ
âWill that work?â Harry doesnât really mind â he needs a connection to James, his father, if heâs going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesnât seem like youâre too fond of them. Thereâs a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides heâs going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them â on the list of most insane things heâs ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally.Â
You shrug. âTheyâve fallen for less.âÂ
(âSheâs got this adorable habit when she lies,â Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast â Remus browsing through the morning paper. Itâs the closest heâs ever been to a normal family. âItâs not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.â For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. âDâyou remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious â with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didnât matter. Iâd happily let her lead me to my ruin.â)Â Â
The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesnât have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you â and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow.Â
Youâre barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table â more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He canât even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers.Â
âMorning, dove.â James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though heâs ran his hand through it many times. âYou look ravishing today.âÂ
âAs always,â Sirius pipes in. âBut that eyeshadow really isnât complementing your skin tone, my darling.âÂ
You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. âPiss off, Black.â
James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you.Â
âWhat the hell are you doing, Potter?â You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast.Â
âWhat does it look like?â James smiles lopsidedly. âYou need to eat more, honey.â
(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, âIt started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves â but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You donât get it, Harry. Iâd give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.â Harry doesnât see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.)Â
Then, you tear your eyes away from James â he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that youâve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame â and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Siriusâs leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. âPotter, meet other Potter. Itâs the holidays, shouldnât it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?âÂ
James looks at Harry up and down. âYou must be from dadâs side of the family with all that hair.âÂ
Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy â way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you.Â
âEat,â You say with a tone of finality. âYou look like the wind could snap you in half.âÂ
âYes, mââ Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Siriusâs curious gaze.Â
âWow.â Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. âYou really look like a mini-James, youâve even got his terrible eyesight.âÂ
âOi!âÂ
Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. âNot that I do enjoy your company â because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight â but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.âÂ
James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. âItâs as you said, isnât it? Itâs the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think itâs a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.âÂ
âDrop dead,â You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary.Â
âOh, dove.â James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. âItâs cute that you think death will keep me from you.âÂ
(Harryâs been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. âA dramatic one, James was,â Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, âHe always said heâd rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight â it was ugly â and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remusâs arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didnât deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.â)Â
âThat is so creepy,â You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. âI still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.âÂ
âItâs all part of the charm, dove.â James winks. âItâs all part of the charm.âÂ
Harry wants to barf, actually.
After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (Heâs gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes â naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.
âWhere are you going?â James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.
âAway from you, Potter!âÂ
And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, âSheâs definitely charmed.â
Harry chortles.
âWell, come on then!â James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harryâs neck â this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. âI still canât believe weâve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?âÂ
Heâs supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. âFifth.â Technically.Â
âWe should ask Lily,â says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. âSheâs got the best memory out of all of us.â
Itâs odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person whoâs got his eyes â or the other way around, as people have told him. Itâs like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evansâs eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew â with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name.Â
âMarauders â and Lily-pad â meet ickle Potter.â James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, heâs sure thereâs an imprint of his fatherâs hand on his back now.Â
âThereâs two Potters in Hogwarts?â Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. âHow even is the castle still standing?âÂ
James cackles like itâs the best joke heâs ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least theyâre buying Harryâs half-baked lie. At this point, itâs not even baked, itâs just wet, soggy, and poorly done. âGood one, Lily-pad!â
Sirius ruffles Remusâs shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. âThis one hereâs Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.âÂ
Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right?Â
Remus doesnât even flinch, just peels off Siriusâs hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. âPlease do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I canât believe this is the first time weâve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.âÂ
âItâs true, we Potters are just hard to forget,â says James, smiling cheekily.Â
Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. âMum didnât take the Potter name. Iâm part Dursley. Muggle.âÂ
Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. âDursley, huh? What a familiar name.âÂ
âItâs a common one,â Harry assures her â not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable.Â
âI suppose youâre right,â says Lily, unconvinced.Â
âAnd this is Peter.â James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice â as though this isnât the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter wonât betray his friends all because of fear.Â
âNâNice to meet you,â Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, âAny family of James is a friend of ours.âÂ
Harryâs eye twitches.Â
IT IS ALMOST COMICAL â the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: âHello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.âÂ
Peterâs cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no â absolutely not â Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. âHi,â Peter replies shyly.Â
Lily quirks her lips. âHello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?â
You scowl. âZip it, Evans.âÂ
The sound of Lilyâs laughter fills the atmosphere â itâs the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. âHad a bit of difficulty with the star charts?âÂ
Sirius pinches your cheek â Harry thinks youâre going to murder him on the spot. âDifficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.âÂ
James snickers. âMust have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.âÂ
âI most certainly do not drool!â You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.
Sirius rolls his eyes. âWhat? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, youâre just as human as we are.âÂ
âOh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriatingââ You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp â itâs the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading.Â
âIrresistibly attractiveâ?â Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands.Â
âIn your dreams!â You shrill.Â
You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry â for a moment he fears that youâll bite his head off. âHarry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think Iâve found something important regarding your situation.âÂ
Harry nods. âIs it time already?âÂ
âYes,â You say firmly. âAnd time is of the essence. Come on.âÂ
âWait!â Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow â he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. âHogsmeade next week?âÂ
Your jaw falls to the ground â this must have been unrehearsed, if the othersâ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldnât decide between applauding Lilyâs bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. âExcuse me?âÂ
âYouâre excused, princess,â says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. âYou, me, Hogsmeade. A date. Iâm sure youâve gone on one of those before.âÂ
Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. âAâAnd what makes you think Iâll just go with you?âÂ
Lily shrugs. âIâm fit. Arenât I, Remus?âÂ
âThe fittest,â says Remus without missing a beat.Â
You laugh incredulously. âDo you just expect me to go along with this? Youâre mad, Evans.âÂ
Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this.Â
âAre you scared, princess?â Lilyâs face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching â Harry doesnât know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting â as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes.Â
To your credit, you donât back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lilyâs lips for a split second.) âStop calling me that, Evans.âÂ
âOne date, then.âÂ
You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back â pretending not to hear their conversation. âI suppose Iâll have to deal with them as well?âÂ
Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. âWeâre a package deal.âÂ
âUnfortunately,â You utter â but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, âI choose where weâre going.âÂ
âDone.â The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you.Â
âAnd I want toââÂ
âDone,â Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. âAnything you want, itâs yours.âÂ
You fight a growing smile, but continue, âIf weâre going out in public, youâre going to have to wearââÂ
âDone,â says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world. Â
âYou canât just agree to anything I say!â You flap your arms in frustration.Â
âYes, dear,â Sirius teases.Â
âDo you know how much you piss me off, Black?â You squawk. âBecause you are this close toââ
âYou are so fucking beautiful,â Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words.Â
âIââ You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. âYouâve gone mad.âÂ
âItâs your fault, dove,â says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. âYou best take accountability for this.âÂ
âYouâre incorrigible â all of you,â You say as you avoid their gazes.
(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own â it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.)Â
âCome on, Harry, letâs go.â You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance.Â
âWait up!â Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you â not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. âIâll walk you to the library.âÂ
âThereâs no need for that, Lupin, thank you.â You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harryâs arm.Â
âRemus,â He says with a twinkle. âCall me Remus.âÂ
âAlright.â You pause. âRemus.âÂ
(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didnât think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you â the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. âRed,â You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagallâs wrath growing louder and louder. âJust like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. Weâve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.âÂ
âIâll tell your father about this!â Rosier bellows through bloody teeth.Â
âTell him!â You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. âTell him that I decide my own future now!â
Remus doesnât even have to think about it.Â
He falls in love.)Â
FUNNILY ENOUGH, ITâS LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. Itâs the last month of her first year at Hogwarts â it still hasnât quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her â Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people canât believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, sheâs heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she canât help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didnât belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps sheâll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.
âOi.âÂ
The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. âWhat do you want?âÂ
âTheyâre wrong, you know,â You tell her, ignoring Lilyâs question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly â she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. âYouâve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. Theyâre scared.âÂ
Lily scoffs. âIâm just a Mudblood to them. Thereâs nothing to be intimidated by.âÂ
You sneer. âDonât say that word. Youâre more than that. More than them. Theyâve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you â youâve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You donât have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.âÂ
Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. âYouâre my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. Weâve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.âÂ
Lily just gapes. Sheâs certain thereâs butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. Thereâs a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach â like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.
She stiffens.
Oh.
part two
#hp angst#hp fluff#hp imagine#hp x reader#james potter x reader#lily evans x reader#marauders angst#marauders fluff#marauders imagine#marauders x reader#sirius black x reader#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders fluff#remus lupin x reader
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Analysis of each character's final words in the new Dark Urge evil ending
If you are romanced to a character, you have the option, when taking the new version of the Sins of the Father ending, to kill your partner in front of the others in your party, killing them with one last kiss. They then give their last words and pass away. I love each and every one and feel they are incredible characterization moments.
So let's break these down!
Lae'zel:
I... I am glad it was you. No other blade would have sufficed.
This is something that hammers home that, Vlaakith or no, Lae'zel deeply believes in all the ideals of a Githyanki. Life is a privilege for the strong, and death is the price of weakness. Further, if romanced, Lae'zel will affectionately call you "the source of my bruises" many times. If she has to die, if she has finally found the one person stronger than herself, then she is "satisfied" that it is you- who she both loved and admired. The only one she would ever consider worthy of besting her.
Karlach:
Fuck you.
Short, simple, and to the point, just the way Karlach does everything else. She's already gone through all her stages of grief with her engine- well, almost all of them. Anger still remains. She burns hot until the end.
Wyll:
I... I forgive you.
This isn't just Wyll being a good guy. This is heartbreak, and guilt. Guilt for not saving you from Bhaal's influence when he was so sure he had. Heartbreak that after he gave his literal soul to save as many people as he could, he couldn't save you- and couldn't save others from you, either. All he sacrificed, negated in an instant by the person he loved and trusted most. Of all the characters here, Wyll (tied with Halsin) sounds the most obviously broken, and it's easy to see why, given that he is self-sacrificing to a fault.
There was a set of scenes datamined from the game, where at the Morphic Pool, the Netherbrain would have taunted the players, causing them to hallucinate things related to their fears and insecurities. Wyll's would have been a vision of himself talking about how he was never a hero, how the Blade of Frontiers was a farce all along. One can't help but think about that scene here, wondering just how much blame, bordering on self-loathing, he might feel here.
Dark Justiciar Shadowheart:
I... I'm coming to you, Lady Shar.
Another short and simple one. By becoming a Dark Justiciar, Shadowheart has fully embraced the nihilism of Shar's teachings. Why be saddened or angry at her own death when this is just what she's embraced with all her sacrifices?
(Sidenote: this does also answer a question I had, namely, what was going to happen to everyone Durge kills. Thankfully it seems they aren't actually going to be sacrificed to him as such, and will indeed end up in the realm of their deities. This makes Bhaal's plan even DUMBER, because deities in DND lore need worshippers to have enough power to exist. Killing everyone at once just guarantees that soon after Durge dies as the last person alive, so too will Bhaal fade from existence.)
Selunite Shadowheart:
I... I thought we were going to save each other...
This Shadowheart rejected everything she knew. She was scared to defy her goddess, but worked up the courage- thanks to you. She thought you would have a new life together. She believed in you. She thought she would get to return the favor, and help you turn the page on Bhaal, too.
She's not just heartbroken for herself; she's heartbroken for you, too. Heartbroken at the life you denied both her and yourself.
Gale:
You made me want to live...
From the moment the orb entered Gale's chest, he knew he was at risk of dying. Then Mystra all but marked him as a dead man walking. But despite that, he finds love with you- and for the first time thinks maybe there is a purpose for him beyond Mystra. That he isn't more useful to the world dead. More than that, he wants to live to be with you, to enjoy your company and companionship. And then you kill him, and do the one thing WORSE than what would have happened if he'd never been pulled from that rock.
It almost would have been kinder to just hack his hand off the first time you met him, though Gale may or may not agree.
Spawn Astarion:
I should have killed you when I had the chance...
The angriest, most bitter response out of all the romanced companions, a step beyond Karlach's "fuck you." This is beyond "fuck you" and even beyond "I hate you." It's "I regret every moment I spent with you." You made him believe he could have better. That he could recover from what Cazador did. You even convinced him to spare the 7,000 spawn and that he could be something better than Cazador.
And now you reveal it was all a lie. Astarion is probably thinking that you talked him out of completing the ritual solely so he'd be easier to kill right here and now. How many regrets are flashing through his mind, how many moments where he wonders if things could have been different if only he'd done this or that, even aside from killing you?
All he wanted was to live as a free person. And then the first time he thinks he has that at last, he loses it as the world ends.
Ascended Astarion:
No... no, this can't be... I can't- you can't- no...
In contrast to spawn Astarion, ascended isn't angry, because he doesn't have the clarity, the ability to process what's happening. Spawn Astarion could tell he'd been betrayed.
But Ascended? Ascended, who went through so much to become one of the most powerful beings in the world, only to STILL lose without fanfare? And by you, his own spawn who he thought he had under his control? It isn't betrayal, because he is bluescreening; he can't comprehend what happened or how or why. How could he have been killed, and by you of all people? Was all he went through killing Cazador really for nothing? How could it be when he was supposed to be the most powerful? Was power actually meaningless all along?
He doesn't say anything of substance because he can't understand what's happening here.
Halsin:
Thaniel... goodbye...
Halsin is the oldest of all the companions. He's experienced the most loss of anyone; his birth family, his fellow Druids, and, for a time, Thaniel. He has had more than enough time to contemplate his own mortality, because he's already lived multiple lifetimes.
So here, two things are happening. One, he isn't expressing anger or betrayal at his murder- because he is more than wise enough, and humble enough, to understand that there are worse things than what has been done to himself. Instead of himself, he is thinking of the world he's leaving behind that is about to fall- and most of all, of his most important person, the one who gave him a purpose, who was there when no one else was, who he failed once and only just got back. The closest thing to a child he'll ever have. In his last moments, instead of himself, Halsin is thinking of those he loves.
And second, it's an almost deliberate snubbing of Durge. He willingly walked into that kiss, knowing full well it would be the last thing he ever did. He gave you his death, he pleaded with his own god to forgive you and him both. He gave you everything he felt he owed you, and no more- no begging or sobbing. Instead, he comes as close as he ever gets to selfishness, and spends his last moments thinking about the thing that makes him the happiest- which could have been you, in another life, if you hadn't done this.
Minthara:
No... we were meant to do this together...
Heartbreak, disbelief, and betrayal. You spent so many nights planning this out. She had been cast aside by her people, her goddess, and she was going to get the last laugh. She was going to crush them personally under her heel and prove she was the best (or second best, behind you) of all of them. She's devastated she won't get to help you torture all those souls and take what she feels was owed to her. But interestingly enough... no anger. Probably because it was overshadowed by the sheer heartbreak, but also a sign that even in those moments, she still admires you for your ruthlessness.
#halsin#shadowheart#astarion#gale dekarios#karlach#lae'zel#minthara#wyll#wyll ravengard#jenevelle hallowleaf#halsin silverbough#astarion ancunin#karlach cliffgate#minthara baenre#bg3#baldur's gate 3#dark urge#the dark urge#spoilers
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⧠YOU BELONG WITH ME ENHYPENâ
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LEE HEESEUNG tightens the grip around your waist and pulls you in until you bump by his side. you could easily figure out the fake smile plastered on his face, holding you tight by his side in front of his friends.Â
âso, is he more handsome than me?â, he whispers as soon as his friends are gone. it took you a couple of minutes to realise why he had a death grip on you, âyou seem to like him a lot.â a single conversation with him has heeseung going tomato red now.
âwhat do you think?â, you scoff, looking him dead in the eye.Â
âhe's got the old fashioned looks, a proper gentleman with a perfect sense of timing. your kinda guy,â his eyes twitched while defining the guy, oh how bad he wanted to punch him.
âyou know, you sound like one of my friends with terrible taste trying to set me up on a blind dateâ, you laugh, wrapping your hand around his suited biceps. âyep,â heeseung scoffs, âhe will go blind soon.âÂ
âwhat do you think of meâ?âÂ
âi love you a lotâ, you roll your eyes and chuckle, now walking side by side with heeseung, his grip still present on you, ânobody can replace my bambi boy.âÂ
âyour bambi boy huh?â, heeseung realises he can never be angry with his pretty girl when he melts the second he hears his nickname by you, pressing a small kiss on your cheeks and pulling you in.Â
âyou want it to be somebody else?â, you smirk.
âhey!âÂ
PARK JONGSEONG keeps a steady frown on his face, watching you finish up your pastry. he's not the type to sulk over things, if there's any problem the first thing he does is talk it out with you, and maybe have a small ice cream date later. but it's been 4 days now, that stupid frown won't leave his face, accompanied with his cold replies, even on this café date!
âis something bothering you these days?â, the fork softly clings against the plate, you try to hold in a giggle, âbabe you know can tell me anything,â his sulky face is kinda cute.
ânope, i'm all good,â jay forces a smile. red flag, he's not calling you âloveâ.
âjay, you haven't even touched your pudding,â you sigh.
jay puts on a good serious thinking face, slowly withdrawing his hands from the table and releasing a deep sigh. this thing looks really serious. oh poor jay, what's wrong?
âwellâ, jay clears his throat before he goes off, âi really didn't think you were like this y/n i didn't expect this from you, if i did something wrong you could've just said that you know how much i love you i would do everything!â
âjay, what are youââ
âand the fuck kinda name's benjamin anyways? like hell we're not in the 19th century, y/n you could do better.â
oh. so that's what it's about. he thinks you're cheating on him, because you left your shared apartment for some benjamin guy for 3 days straight. you don't blame him though, you owe him an explanation.
âbabe,â you sigh, âit's not what you think, remember benjamin? my cousin sister's child? i visit her to babysit him.â
â.....the one who called me uncle?â, jay's expression softens, instead he's shocked now.
âyeah!â, you giggle, putting your hand over his for comfort, shooting him a sorry look. âi hate that kidâ, jay scoffs, you sigh.
SIM JAEYUN lets out a groan while he stares at the anime plushie in your arms. you're basically burying your face in it snuggling it, and if that wasn't enough the plushie is a man!
no way jake has to compete with a fictional man now.
âwhy do you need that ugly plushie when im hereâŠâ, jake whines, plopping down right beside you and scooting even closer, âam i not good enough?â
âdid you just call toji fushiguro ugly?â, a frown casts upon your face as you whip your head around to shoot a glare at your boyfriend. poor him, he's too confused and jealous for this, he really wants to replace the plushie in your arms. âyou're out of your mind jake.â
âi am in fact very willing to be out of my mind and be crazy for you,â jake rolls his eyes, shifting closer to you until there's only a pillow between you and him, which he soon throws away. the fresh smell of laundry and cologne floats from his sweatshirt and hits your nose, it always puts you at ease, and you miss the warm afternoons with him, just snuggling and all over each other, giggling over random past memories. âbut i know for sure that plushie willâŠnot do that for you,â jake breaks you from your trance.
âhow about you show me that?â, you wink at him. heck, have you been staring at him too long?
ânow you're talkingâ, jake smirks, snatching away the plushie from you as he sets it aside, practically throwing himself on top of you, engulfing you within his strong arms to press a series of kisses on your face, âfuck that ugly plushie.â
PARK SUNGHOON sighs, entering your shared bedroom with a bored face and arms folded. some obvious yet subtle signs he's disappointed by you, but the last disappointing thing you remember you did was eat his tiramisu. what crime have you committed now?
the bored expression quickly turns into a playful one as he clears his throat, tilting his head to one side, âare you resisting the urge to kiss and make up with me right now?â
âno not reallyâ, you answer instantly, typing away on your laptop. but then you realised what he actually just said. with squinted eyes and a smile, you turn your head towards him, âkiss and make up? what exactly happened for us to do that?â
âi think it's about time you stop texting your best friendâ, sunghoon sits down beside you giving you the meanest eye roll ever. he scoffs, âi don't get why she hates me and you don't do anything about it. it's like you two backbitch about me.â
âyou won't believe it but i actually rant about you all the time to herâ, you giggle, sunghoon's cheeks blooms from underneath, âshe's sick of my extreme love for you.â
you let out a gasp as sunghoon pulls you in his lap, a coy smirk playing around his lips, âshe should be. everyone should know i'm the best boyfriend in the world.â
you hook your arms around his neck and pull him closer, âso was the kiss and make up part just an excuse to kiss me.â
âmaybeâ, sunghoon chuckles, pulling you in for a chaste kiss, âwho knows.â
KIM SUNOO stares straight into your phone screen, while listening to you ramble about your day and how it was. and when it glows to reveal the lock screen, sunoo feels infuriated.
âseriously now y/n, i can't believe this!â, sunoo's sudden shift in position causes your head, which was lying on his shoulders, to hit the bed frame, âlike this is too muchâ, he seethes.
you utter a small âouchâ and rub the hurt spot, a confused âwhat?â leaving your mouth, âwh-what do you mean?â
âyou know what i mean, loveâ, he rolls his eyes, taking your phone and holding up the lockscreen in front of your face. it's not him. it's a random tv show character that he doesn't even know about. it should be him, it must be him, not a guy he doesn't know. âam i really being robbed of my wallpaper privileges?â, he sighs.
you let out a heavier sigh, putting up one of those smiles sunoo can't help but blush to. âdon't you worry, love. maybe i don't want other girls to perceive my man. but if you're begging for it, i'll change itâ, you giggle.
sunoo let's a sigh of relief and scoffs, âi'm not beggingââ
âon one condition though, my head hurts!â
âaww come here, let me kiss it betterâ, he smiles, pulling you in again.
YANG JUNGWON literally just spawns right behind you as soon as the guy you're talking to at your friend's birthday party decides to make a move on you.
âgo find someone who's not taken dudeâ, jungwon's eyes are green as he spits his words out, your waist already accompanied by his hand. the poor guy leaves in a hurry, not wanting to mess with the intimidating yang jungwon.
jungwon then turns to you, a shadow over his face, he's obviously upset about this, jealous even. âif you were that bored you could've called meâ, jungwon mumbles.
âyou were in the restroom, âwonâ, you sigh, placing a hand on his broad chest you pout, âare youâŠjealousâ?â
âof course i'm jealous, i leave my pretty girl alone for one minute and some hipster comes and thinks he can have my girl?â, jungwon pauses for a moment to look into your cresent eyes looking up at him, you're smiling, âno. fucking. way.â
âwell, it's good for you that i'm yours and only yoursâ, you reassure him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek and you have his breathtaking smile back. he grins at you before kissing you back, ânow let's go home, i hate this party.â
NISHIMURA RIKI follows you around like a lost puppy after the dance class with his heart in shatters. just an hour ago, your dance teacher assigned partners for the upcoming festival. and it just looks like the universe is definitely not on riki's side cause you two were not paired.
âlisten i'm gonna tell mrs. lee to make you my partner and i'm very sure she will listen, trust me! because you can't justââ
âriki, it's okay! it's just a project it'll be over till next week!â, you comfort your boyfriend âcause you know mrs. lee is a tough case, she won't crack at all. âbesides, we'll be practising in the same hall.â
âexactly! that way that asshole can tease me how he got youâ, riki sighs, plopping down on the benches, âi want to dance with you.â
âand i want to dance with youâ, you sigh, sitting down beside him, âbut you know mrs. lee would never rearrange.â
riki pulls you in a tight hug. he breathes in the vanilla scent of your hoodie before pulling back, gazing into your eyes, âif that dumbass holds you by your waist, i will go insane.â
âi won't let him do thatâ, you laugh, hitting his chest.
âcan't we just drop out of this already? we can be the audience insteadâ, riki whines.
âi agree, kissing in the audience and booing them would be way betterâ, you nod your head. niki laughs, âyou're the best girlfriend.â
© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.
đ:: TAGLIST IS OPEN ! nets. @/k-labels tags! @dollyos @leaderwon @dimplewonie @wonfilms @heartswonn @jwonistic @aaa-sia @ashtxrie @kgneptun @flwrstqr @haechansbbg @river-demon-slayer @in-somnias-world @teddywonss @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @mylstserenade @branchrkive @aishigrey @nctislifue @greyminyoon1 @ro-diaries @rikibun @sleepyxxhead @belowbun @belovedsthings @moond1or @oddracha
#â âââ ođ â eđoqueđce đ„â âââ#k-labels#enhypen x reader#enha fluff#enhypen imagines#enhypen soft hours#enhypen scenarios#div cr chilumitos#enhypen soft thoughts#enhypen headcannons#enha imagines#enha smau#enhypen smau#heeseung x reader#jay x reader#jake x reader#sunghoon x reader#sunoo x reader#jungwon x reader#niki x reader#heeseung smau#enhypen oneshot#enhypen fluff#enhypen moodboard#enha angst#enha x reader#enhypen x you#heeseung fluff#jungwon fluff#jungwon headcanons
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birkin mom ! | lando morris x fem! reader
summary: everyone wondered why y/n disappeared from the paddock and stopped posting until lando accidentally revealed something grand
fc; zara janice
warnings; none??
birkin mom pt 2
masterlist !
landonorris posted on their story!
liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 1,002,928 others!
yourusername: surprise ? ( p.s. i was serious when i said i wanted to be a birkin mom ) ( p.p.s. i did yell at lando )
landonorris: i said iâm sorry!
yourusername: baby said u gotta work for it & buy mama a bag
landonorris: she canât talk yet??
yourusername: ok.
landonorris: WAIT IâM SORRY!
username: y/n said really said âwalk him like a dogâ
liked by yourusername!
username: oomf was right omg
username: mother (actually)
username: bye not lando apologizing so fast after y/n said okđïżœïżœïżœ
oscarpiastri: congratulations! surprised lando didnât reveal it sooner he almost exploded!
yourusername: because i made him promise to wait but he broke that promise :)
landonorris: i said iâm sorryđ
username: conđgratđulađtionsđ
liked by yourusername, mclaren, and 1,403,937 others!
landonorris: the prettiest mom to be đ·
tagged; yourusername
yourusername: oh lando norris, you know how to make a woman cry đ„čđ„č
yourusername: curse you pregnancy hormones!!
yourusername: i forgive youđđ
yourusername: even if iâm still kind of angry w u
landonorris: i love you toođ
username: HER MATERNITY PICSđ
username: sheâs glowing, sheâs gonna be such a pretty momđ©
username: imagine the y/n l/n as ur mother omg
mclaren: đ§Ąđ§Ą
liked by landonorris !
carlossainz55: how is lando having a child when he is a child himself??
yourusername: iâm going to have 2 kids soon, can you believe that??
landonorris: i am a grown man? and responsible?? and a soon to be dad???
yourusername: babe, you wanted to name our baby papayaâŠ.
landonorris: itâs literally such a cute name idk what ur talking about
liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, and 1,730,028 others!
yourusername & landonorris: welcome to this world, baby norris, mama & dada love you very much đ
username: i am crying
username: y/nâs smile omg
username: theyâre gonna be fantastic parents, i can just tell
danielricciardo: so when can i meet my goddaughter ?
oscarpiastri: who said you were going to be the godfather??
carlossainz55: who said either of you were going to be the godfather?? itâs going to be me
oscarpiastri: ha funny joke !
landonorris: battle to the death!
yourusername: see what i mean when i said i was going to have 2 kidsâŠ
username: new grid baby unlocked â
mclaren: newest and cutest addition to the papaya army, welcome baby norris!! đ§Ąđ§Ą
liked by landonorris & yourusername !
username: y/n really manifested being a birkin mom đđđ
username: so excited for mom y/n vlog content!
yourusername posted to their story !
#f1 scenario#formula one imagines#formula one imagine#f1 imagine#formula one smau#formula one social media au#formula one x reader#formula one scenarios#formula 1 x reader#f1 smau#f1 scenarios#lando norris x reader
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home before dark (part three)
pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader
rating mature 18+
summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend wonât leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybodyâs afraid of him. except for you.
content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent
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· · ââ àŁȘ âč àŁȘ ââ · ·
Rafe is sitting in a chair in the front room of your home, his chin resting on his hand, hardly paying any attention to the sitcom playing on the tv screen.
Heâs pissed off. Why did it have to storm tonight of all nights, when he doesnât have anything to numb the pain, nothing to drown out the sound of the rain drumming on the windows?
In his haste, he didnât pack any coke before coming here. He didnât think heâd need it this bad.
And that photo he saw upstairs. Itâs making everything so much fucking worse.
This is how the world repays him for helping someone. Figures. Heâs used to having shit luck. Trying to make his own father love him has been a losing game, and heâs been at that for years, so why would anything else go his way?
âHey.â Rafe straightens when he hears you. You look into the room. âDid the thunder wake you up, too?â
He hasnât slept at all. But he nods.
Thereâs a blankness in his stare, the tv casting dull colors over his face. He didnât bother to turn the light on.
You cross the room, hazy from your interrupted sleep, and settle on the couch. Youâre far away from him, acting like youâve never touched, even though you were just pressed against each other on his motorcycle.
You wonder if it felt nice to him, too. Or if you were just extra weight on his bike, an irritating responsibility he was cornered into taking on.
âDo you have any booze around here?â Rafe mutters. You catch the desolation in his tone.
âWhatâs wrong?â you ask.
You instantly feel ridiculous for expecting you wonât be met with the cold shoulder. You doubt heâll answer. But then, because the world must be off its axis, he does.
âFucking hate this weather,â he says.
His words make a chill sink into your bones. You remember your father telling you the news years ago after he got the phone call. A torrential downpour. The freeway. Zero visibility.
Anne lost control of her car.
By the look on your dadâs face, you knew what that meant. Rafeâs mother didnât survive the wreck.
He doesnât have to say it. You know thatâs why he hates storms.
âI can distract you,â you offer, âif you want?â
It was something you did as kids. Rafe would be angry or sad or hurt or anything and youâd talk his ear off about whatever you could think of until the dark cloud hanging over him drifted away.
His feelings always felt too big for him. You were the best at making them small enough to manage.
Rafe is used to wanting to be left alone. But not right now. Not if he can be with you. Admitting it feels impossible. The wall he spent years building around himself is solid from both sides.
âItâs your house,â he finally says. âDo what you want.â
You take it an invitation to stay. You turn your attention to the tv, as if holding eye contact with him will make him take it back.
It gives him a chance to look at you. How the fuck have you not lost patience with him yet? Why do you still care?
âI keep wanting to ask why youâre helping me,â you say, just loud enough to be heard over the tv.
Rafe exhales sharply, rubbing his forehead.
âThis is you distracting me,â he scoffs. âArenât you supposed to do the talking?â
The fact that heâs expecting you to replicate the days of your youth gives you a sliver of hope that maybe he misses them, too.
âThere has to be a reason youâre doing it,â you murmur.
âCanât you just be happy that I am?â he responds. A white flash of lighting pools into the room for a split second.
âNo,â you say. Finally, he gives in.
âBecause IâŠâ he begins.
The noise from the show is adding to the frustrating confusion engulfing him. He angrily picks up the remote and turns the tv off, plunging both of you in darkness.
You turn your head towards him again, only able to make out the hard outline of his jaw.
âI always had to look out for you,â he says. âI guess I still do.â
You look down at your lap, taken aback that Rafe holds any sense of loyalty for you.
You almost want to remind him of what he said earlier, that youâre not kids anymore, but you donât want to challenge him.
âAnd I donât know why,â he adds, voice thin, âbut youâre not a dick to me like everyone else is, so I kind of owe you.â
All you can hear is your own breathing and the ticking of the clock in the foyer and the tap of faltering raindrops. The storm is passing.
âItâs because you didnât do anything wrong,â you say into the silence. âItâs not like you did something to make me hate you. You shut me out, but I get why.â
Your words reverberate through him. He wonders if you think that he hates you.
Still, you could have gone to any other guy and asked him to pretend to be your boyfriend.
âWhyâd you come to me?â he asks.
âBecause heâs scared of you.â You donât have to nor do you want to say your exâs name.
âAnd youâre not?â
âNo.â You tilt your head. âWe used to be best friends.â
You say it like he wouldnât remember. He couldnât erase it from his brain if he tried. And he has.
The heaviness of all this is suffocating to him. The past is done. Thereâs no point in digging up things thatâll just hurt him all over again.
He stands up, chasing out the familiarity that was slowly growing between you. But before he leaves the room, he pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose with trembling fingers.
âYou didnât do anything wrong, either, alright?â Rafe says into the dark, irritated, answering the question you asked him on the shoreline hours ago. âNot on purpose.â
As his shadow retreats, the words he left you with ring in your head. He doesnât blame you. But you did do something wrong.
Rafe had his head buried into his pillow, throat burning from crying through his grief, every night for months.
As he lies in an unfamiliar bed all for a girl whose very existence makes him feel a multitude of good and bad all at once, heâs thrown back into those days, as if heâs a boy again.
His mother used to tell him it was a strength to be so sensitive, but her voice faded and his fatherâs voice got so much louder. What he tells him every time Rafe canât swallow down the tears echoes in his mind. Toughen up. Youâre fine.
But heâs not fine. He canât stop crying and he knows he has to tell you he canât do this anymore. Being with you brings back too much.
But the next morning, when Rafe finds you sitting at the kitchen island, wearing your pajamas and a smile, the prospect of ending this is tossed away.
You have access to him that nobody else does. You and that damn smile are a weakness that he didnât know he had. And while he can act happy and careless around everyone else, he canât put on an act for you. Ever.
âHowâd you sleep?â you ask. Your hands are cupping a mug, your phone sitting beside it.
âLike shit,â Rafe replies, pacing to the fridge. âTook hours to fall asleep.â
You feel guilty that he didnât have a good rest, considering heâs only here because you were too frightened to be alone.
âYou?â he says after a beat. The ice must be melting if heâs actually asking about you for once.
âMy sleep was good,â you reply. âIt helped having you here.â
Rafeâs cheeks get warm. Someone actually wanting him around is a foreign feeling.
By the time your conversation was over last night, the rain and thunder had dwindled. It couldnât have been the storm keeping him awake. Curiosity pushes you to figure it out.
âWas the bed uncomfortable?â you ask.
âNo,â he answers. He finds a glass and fills it with water. His throat still hurts from crying last night.
You watch him, his presence commanding as he leans back against the counter opposite you. The dark, shallow bags beneath his eyes are illuminated in the bright lights above you. He looks exhausted.
âWas the room too warm? Or too cold?â you say.
âCan you relax?â Rafe huffs, his tone almost playful.
He isnât about to admit that he canât remember the last time he fell asleep sober. And heâs definitely not going to tell you that the last thing he thought about before finally passing out was that his cheeks burned from how hard he was wiping his tears away.
âThe least I can do is make sure youâre comfortable since I made you stay the night,â you say.
His brows furrow as he takes a long gulp, tipping his head back.
âNobody can make me do anything,â he replies once he downs the water. You know itâs the truth. It makes the fact that heâs doing this for you all the more meaningful.
Before you can respond, your phone buzzes loudly on the countertop. Rafe sees your face fall when your eyes drop to the screen. You read the notification for a moment, then sigh and shake your head.
âHe emailed me,â you say incredulously. âI blocked him on everything and he emailed me.â
Rafe leans over to see if youâll let him look for himself. You slide your phone towards him and he picks it up to read Tyâs message.
What you have with him isnât real. We both know it. Let me prove that I can treat you how you deserve. Please. Iâm sorry for everything. I love you.
A part of Rafe is concerned youâll fall for it.
âWhatâre you gonna do?â he asks.
âBlock him there, too,â you mutter. âHe does this. Heâs mean, then he pretends like he changed, then heâs mean again⊠Itâs the same bullshit over and over.â
Rafe blocks him for you and places your phone on the counter. You bite the inside of your cheek as the dread you always feel when Ty contacts you floods your every sense.
The despair on your face makes Rafeâs stomach sink. The next time he sees Ty, heâs beating the shit out of him.
âHeâll stop, okay? Iâll make him,â he says.
Youâre still skeptical. Rafe definitely scares him, but Ty called him a bullshit rebound last night. He wrote that what you have with Rafe isnât real. Youâre not fooling him. And youâre afraid he wonât leave you alone until he believes youâre actually in a new relationship now.
âYeah.â You exhale slowly. âDoesnât sound like heâs falling for this, though.â You motion between you and him.
Rafe has to take a moment to catch your meaning. Falling for this. Your pretend relationship. Right.
âI didnât tell anyone itâs fake,â you say, afraid it somehow got out. âDid you?â
Rafe shakes his head no and puts his empty glass in the sink. He scratches the back of his neck and looks at you again.
âDo you want me to keep crashing here until your mom and dad get back?â he asks.
You hate that your mind goes there, but you wonder when the last time he said mom out loud was. You shake away the thought.
âNot if you canât get any actual sleep,â you respond.
Rafe typically gets irritated when someone canât make up their mind. He wants everything done quickly, so he doesnât have to stop and think.
But this is you and even though youâre scared of sleeping on your own, youâre considering how staying here affects Rafe and it gives him a heavy feeling of shame. He spent years avoiding the only person who never abandoned him. The only person who still gives a shit.
âIâll just leave my stuff here,â he says, making the decision for you.
âThank you.â You mean it. The thought of someone being here with you is comforting.
As usual, Rafe ends the conversation quickly and abruptly, leaving the room. You soon hear the engine of his motorcycle rattling loudly from outside, the roar fading as he drives away.
You hoped that heâd at least want to hang out with you now. You donât understand why you keep expecting more from him. It just hurts you every time.
You donât hear from Ty for the rest of the day. You manage to run some errands without worrying youâll see him because even when Rafe isnât with you, you donât feel as scared knowing heâs in your corner.
The days of the week mean practically nothing on the north side of the island over the summer. Thereâs a party almost every night, this time at a house just down the street from you.
You invite your friends to your place, drinking as you get ready, deciding to walk over to the party. You turn up already tipsy, finding yourself looking for Rafe even though you know you should only really be doing that if Ty is bothering you.
When you walk into the loud, crowded house, seeing you reminds Rafe of why he isnât smoking or drinking or snorting anything tonight.
Heâs had countless fights while wasted, but he wants to have a clear mind when he sees Ty. He needs to make the fucker pay and not give him a chance to get even one punch in.
You meet Rafeâs blue eyes every so often throughout the night, glad youâre finally able to have fun again because you know heâs keeping you safe.
The second Ty walks in, even though he hasnât come close to approaching you, you make your way to Rafe.
You stand close to him, placing your hand in his, acting like a girlfriend to someone who is only doing this because he feels an overdue sense of loyalty to you.
Rafe stills for a moment before he laces his fingers with yours. His skin is hot, making your heart flutter in a way you know it shouldnât.
âHey,â you say over the music. His ring presses against your thumb.
âHey,â he says tensely. Heâs not used to affection, especially in front of people.
But this is what he signed up for. He needs to act like a boyfriend and heâs not going to fuck this up. Itâs the first real responsibility heâs had that he actually gives a shit about.
His eyes land on Ty and his plan to confront him takes a backseat when he realizes he doesnât want to let go of you. Right now, heâd rather have his hand in yours instead of using it to throw a punch. Itâs like every touch you give him leaves a heavier impact than the last.
You immediately notice how tense Rafe is.
âCan you relax?â you joke, imitating the way he said it this morning. Your heart warms when his dimples appear, framing a smile he canât stifle.
âI donât sound like that,â he says.
âYou sound exactly like that,â you reply with a laugh, picturing how tired he looked in your kitchen. âPlease tell me you got some sleep today.â
Again, the concern you seem to have never lost for him appears.
âI did,â he says. He crashed in his bed the second he got home.
âHow come it took you so long to fall asleep last night?â
Rafeâs knee-jerk reaction is to avoid the question. Especially if itâs you asking. But he canât forget how shitty it felt when you brushed him off last night at the beach, so he pushes himself to answer.
âJust, uhâŠâ He looks away. âCouldnât turn off my brain.â
You gaze up at him. It almost aches, how badly youâd love to know what goes through his mind.
âWhen did this start?â one of his friends amusedly asks, pointing between you two. You notice Ty close by, his gaze sharp as he eavesdrops. Rafe notices him, too.
You squeeze Rafeâs hand tighter, clinging to him. He notices that his entire body buzzes when you do that.
âWhat, was I supposed to call you?â Rafe responds.
âIâm just saying,â his friend replies with a laugh, âitâs like all of a sudden, you got a girl out of nowhere.â
Alarm stings every inch of your skin when you notice Tyâs posture straighten in your peripheral.
âDonât sound so surprised, asshole,â Rafe replies lightheartedly, gently pulling his hand out of your grasp to drape his heavy arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against him.
You follow his lead, wrapping your arms around his torso. The relief from how well he played it off and the comfort you get from how heâs holding you is overwhelming.
Rafe dips his head to speak into your ear, his cheek brushing against yours, his cologne fresh.
âThink heâs falling for it now?â he mumbles, voice lowering an octave. With the way heâs holding you, you might fall for it yourself.
âYeah,â you breathe. You squeeze him tighter, not for show, but because you want to. Youâve wanted to hug him since the funeral, when he was a boy with bloodshot eyes in a crumpled black suit, but he never let you get this close.
He brings his other hand up to your face, cradling your jaw, his thumb rubbing over your cheek. His touch is so tender that you have to remind yourself itâs Rafe doing this.
Youâre suspended, bodies curved together, cheeks brushing, like youâre playing a game to see whoâll let go first.
âAnd heâs staying away from you, right?â His breath is warm against the shell of your ear.
You nod, at a loss for words.
âIs he watching?â he asks. You can see from the corner of your eye that your ex is staring right at you.
âMhm,â you hum with a nod.
At this point, Rafe is being selfish. This is close enough. You wanted him to act like youâre a couple and heâs done it. He can pull away now. Maybe he should keep his arm around you for a little longer, but he doesnât need to be this close.
Instead, he lowers to press his lips against your cheek and you hug him tighter, and fuck, it feels so good that he misses it before itâs even over.
He canât believe that his body yearns to be this close to you. You opened up the floodgates the second you put your hand on him the first time a couple of nights ago. How good would it feel if you were doing it for real?
You lean into his kiss. His lips are so soft. You wish you could feel them against yours. Itâs all to make everyone think youâre actually together. You keep telling yourself that.
When your arms around him weaken just a little, you feel something at his back, protruding against your forearm.
Your eyebrows draw together as you pull back only a few inches to meet Rafeâs eyes, your mind going to the worst possible scenario. Your breath catches. Itâs a weapon.
âWhat is that?â you ask quietly, nudging against the hard item tucked into the band of his jeans.
âWhat do you think?â
âRafe,â you say. His jaw tightens. The moment is gone. The wall is back up. Your tone teeters on a thin edge, like youâre judging him.
âYouâre surprised the psycho owns a gun?â he scoffs.
He didnât brush off what Ty said like you thought he did. It makes your stomach turn that your exâs lie actually stuck with Rafe.
You glance over to see Tyâs back as he storms out of the room. Part of you is relieved, but right now, you mostly feel anxious that Rafe believes a lie.
âI never called you that,â you reiterate to him quietly. âIâve never said anything bad about you. You think you can trust what he says?â
âIâm not planning on using it on him, okay?â Rafe snaps. âUnless he asks for it.â
He wishes you didnât notice it. If you didnât think he was fucked up before, you do now. Heâs pissed off and embarrassed and disappointed all at once.
Youâve been trying to reconnect with him for so long. If he gives in, youâll see that heâs not even close to who he was when you knew him. Heâll just let you down.
He realizes he hasnât kept his distance only because youâre a painful reminder of a time he wants to forget. Itâs also because heâs sure you wouldnât like who heâs become. And he canât take the rejection.
Youâre still, unable to believe that he actually has a gun. That he would use it. That these are the lengths heâs going to to keep you safe.
You havenât lost contact with him, but Rafe checks out of the moment and pulls his arm away.
âHeâs gone now,â he mutters. You get the message. Heâs done pretending. You drop your arms and find your friends again.
Hours later, the party is dwindling, but far from over. Rafe has been sober the entire time, making him all the more antsy and irritable.
He thought heâd beat the shit out of Ty tonight, but heâs exhausted and he canât stop shaking. Why the hell is he shaking?
Rafe loses his patience and approaches you while youâre dancing with your friends.
âLetâs go,â he says, holding your hand. The contact makes your head spin all over again. Even though youâd like to stay, you comply.
You notice Tyâs eyes on you when you leave. Heâs pretending to be a good guy again, keeping his distance, but you know itâs only a matter of time before he cracks.
Once you reach Rafeâs motorcycle in the cool night air, he hands you his helmet and you take it without hesitation.
After the short drive, you walk up the steps to your front door together. But you soon stop in your tracks, eyes wide as you stare at the ground.
Rafe follows your eye line. Mudâs been tracked onto the porch in fragmented footprints.
âI canât⊠I canât remember if that was there before,â you stammer. âDid you see it this morning?â
âI donât know,â he responds. He rushed out of here too quickly to have noticed something like that.
You look around, as if you can find an answer in the darkness surrounding your home. You would have noticed it after you ran your errands earlier today. Probably. Maybe.
It could have been you. Or Rafe. Or one of your friends.
Or Ty. He didnât arrive at the party until late into the night. Could he have been creeping around your house? Why would he?
Rafe glances up to confirm that there arenât any cameras aiming at the door. It pisses him off when he notices there arenât any cameras at all. He quickly catches on that your breathing has grown faster.
âCome on,â he says, gently pulling you by the crook of your elbow. âLetâs go inside. Itâs nothing.â
He doesnât believe his own words, but thereâs no reason to scare you any further.
âWhat if he was here?â you say, letting Rafe pull you to the door. He takes the key out of your hand and pushes it into the lock.
âThen Iâll shoot him,â he mutters.
âThatâs not funny.â
âI wasnât joking.â
The door swings open, prompting the security system to start beeping.
You flip on the light and enter the code as he shuts the door behind you. Youâre so frightened and unnerved that you jam one of the buttons with the wrong finger, prompting a harsh error noise from the system.
âCan you do this?â you huff. You tell Rafe the five-digit code and he quickly enters it, arming the system again. You notice his hand is trembling.
âAre you okay?â you ask. You know itâs not from fear. Rafe isnât afraid of anything. He must be high on something. âWhatâd you take?â
âNothing,â he says with a humorless laugh. It dawns on him that his body is reacting to the lack of coke in his system. âThatâs the problem.â
âWhat?â you ask.
Rafe sighs, double-checking that the front door is locked for your peace of mind.
âI canât be wasted if that asshole tries me. I havenât taken anything since last night,â he says. âBut it just made shit worse.â
He realizes how messed up it sounds. How messed up it is that being sober for one night makes him shake like this. He has a problem. But he never really had a reason to get clean before now.
You watch Rafe checking the lock and like a riptide, everything crashes down on you at once.
The torment from Ty harassing you. The guilt from asking Rafe to take on this responsibility. The sadness from knowing that heâs only doing it because he feels a sense of obligation for you and wants nothing more.
âBet youâre glad I have a gun now,â Rafe mutters. He turns to look at you, your expression grim. âWhat?â
âI donât want to keep bothering you with this,â you admit, your heart racing with panic. âI donât want you to have to sleep here and I donât want you to have to drive me home all the time and⊠I hate that this is happening and that I had to drag you into it.â
His eyes travel over the anguish etched on your face.
âWhat, like itâs your fault heâs a piece of shit?â he says.
You chew on the inside of your cheek and look up to the ceiling, trying to keep your tears at bay. Itâs still odd being alone with him, having him in your home.
Rafe hasnât tried to make someone feel better in a long time. He hasnât cared enough to. He takes a deep breath.
âI donât mind doing this, alright?â he says.
âYou donât?â You take in the softness in his eyes that you donât often see.
âThink Iâd be here if I did?â
âI donât know,â you say. âYou used to do things you didnât want to all the time for me.â
The Rafe that was your best friend always went along with whatever you wanted to play, wherever you wanted to go.
He grits his teeth, tearing his eyes off of you, trying not to think about how when he was a kid, if someone asked him who his favorite person was, heâd tell them that it was a tie between you and his mom.
âDonât talk about how shit used to be,â he says quietly. And because he doesnât want to see that hurt look on your face again, he adds, âPlease.â
The mere prospect of talking about the past seems to actually give him pain. It dawns on you that youâre looking at a man who may have never processed what happened to him.
âDo you want something to eat?â you offer, changing the subject swiftly.
Rafe realizes heâs starving.
âYeah,â he says.
A memory washes over you as Rafe sits at your kitchen counter, eating leftovers you heated up for him.
It was a humid summer day and you two were scarfing down the lunch his mother made for you after a morning of swimming behind his house.
Rafe always liked picking the wildflowers that grew in the grass that lined the beach for his mom. The ones he found that day were purple, sitting in a small vase she put in the center of the dining room table.
Every time he gave her a small bundle of uneven flowers, she had the same joyful reaction. Rafe always looked so proud of himself when she enthusiastically thanked her son.
It was just another happy day.
Until Ward came into the kitchen and like always, Rafeâs smile disappeared. Your best friend tended to shrink when his dad was around. Ward almost always found something to chide his son about. He never spoke like that to his daughters.
âCould you eat any faster?â Ward muttered. âWhere are your manners?â
âLeave him alone, Ward,â Anne said with a sigh. His motherâs tone was only ever sharp when she was defending her little boy.
You remember watching her lean to kiss Rafeâs head, earning a small smile from him. Then she winked at you, trying to dismiss the tension from the room.
You wonder what Ward has said to Rafe ever since he lost the only person who stuck up for him.
You face the sink as you wash your hands, your back to Rafe, trying to stifle the tears that build as you imagine what the world would be like if the wreck never happened. Who would Rafe be if he never lost her? If a part of him didnât die with her?
Is it crazy to think that youâd still be best friends, instead of two strangers pushed together in such an arduous situation? You miss her so much that it hurts and all this is yet another thing adding to the weight sitting on your shoulders.
Rafe hears you sniffle and when you finally turn around, you stare at the floor as you try to rush away.
âWhat is it?â he asks. Is he already failing at making you feel safe?
You freeze. You canât tell him whatâs really bothering you. Especially since he asked you not to talk about your memories.
âIâm just freaked out.â Itâs not exactly what youâre thinking of now, but itâs true. This mess with Ty is a nightmare. âIf he was really creeping around here⊠Ugh, I donât know what heâs going to do next.â
Rafe chews slower as he observes you through narrow eyes. Heâs no stranger to the pain of crying to sleep. He doesnât want that for you.
You notice his hands are still trembling. You have no idea how often he does coke, but it must be an addiction if one night without it makes his body react like this.
âWhat else do you need?â he asks. It comes out sharper than he intended, like heâs asking what else you could possibly want from him after heâs given you so much.
Your lips thin as you stare at him from across the counter. He doesnât think heâs ever seen someone look so miserable.
âNothing,â you mutter. âGood night.â
You start to walk away but Rafe says your name to stop you and it sounds so good coming out of his mouth that your stomach numbs. When was the last time he said it?
You turn to look at him. His eyes dart down to his food.
âWhat ifâŠâ he begins, his fork loudly clattering against the dish. âWould it help if I slept in your room?â
Youâre surprised. And soothed by the thought of him sleeping close by in case your ex does something as unhinged as break in.
Everyone else paints Rafe as rude and aggressive, but you knew it. You knew he still had some kindness in him.
âYeah,â you say. âIt would help.â
(part four)
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#this part got soooo long because i just couldnt find a place to pause lols#its not a fic by me if rafe doesnt cry <3#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron and you#rafe cameron and reader#rafe cameron and y/n#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fanfic
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Hello! I'm not sure if i'm the one but can we get some more Mavuika x Creator! Reader (gender neutral) in which the creator is falling deeply in love with Mavuika and the creator is slowly getting his/hers/their memories back and awakening a little bit of power (like maybe aweking some unique element or getting better healing abilities) ?
I'm pretty sure you were the one yea. Sorry for not answering sooner I just had no motivation to write đ
Synopsis: your time with Mavuika! (And "your" past) part 1 part 2 part 4
TW: slight angst, fluff, OOC, arguements, reader is referred to as they/them for easier use but gender is up to what you interpret as, bad writing, bad grammar, english is not my first language, slightly rushed at the end, not proofread
Characters: Mavuika x gn!creator!reader
"Please don't walk through the halls, our Archon is busy-"
"I just have a word with her, that's all."
The receptionist sighed as you glared at her and walked off. You've had a bad week, constantly getting excruciatingly painful headaches and nightmares which make you wake up in a cold sweat. What made it worse that you couldn't really remember them when you woke up, which made it all the more frustrating. That, along with the fact that your boss was giving you more work than usual was making you snappy and irritated all the time. The even more strange thing was the fact that you were seeking out Mavuika, almost as if she was a pinicle of warmth in a snowy wasteland, so you did eventually visit her.
As you reached her office door, gloved hands gently pushed it open to see her inside. Your eyes softened, and you could feel your stress slipping away. She was sleeping though, her head on a pile of documents.
"That's.. Strange. Normally she would spend a lot of time with me, did she ignore all this work just for me?" You thought to yourself. However, instead of peaking over, you decided to sit in a sofa next to her table.
Curiosity did get the better of you though.
You skipped over to her desk and found loads of papers from different nations, which was really strange considering Mavuika was more busy dealing with Natlan's problems. You picked up a few documents and read them, cringing at the insignia of the other nations.
As you kept reading, you got more confused, and certainly more angry.
"Death threats, intimidation and war threats to Natlan, and Sumeru is asking for an alliance? What the hell is going on?!" You exclaimed, not noticing how Mavuika woke up. As you were about to read more, she snatched the papers from you, and looked at you with an expression you couldn't read.
"You weren't supposed to see that."
"Well I did, too bad. Now mind explaining what the hell is this?"
She didn't answer, and you felt your patience running thin. You didn't want to raise your voice at her, but the frustration of her not telling you was too much to handle. Still, you managed to control yourself, taking deep breaths.
"I'm not going to repeat myself, what is this?"
She paused, and for a moment, she contemplated whether she would tell you or not. Guilt was on her face, yet she finally told you.
"The other nations want you back for whatever reason, and they are threatening to add more to Natlan's plate by instituting a war. Sumeru is offering to help, but that's the only consolation I have," she breathed out. Your eyes softened, and your lips trembled. Seeing Mavuika like this was making you feel negative, especially since it was about you.
You picked up her hand and held it gently, but it was also firm. You didn't know what you could really do to help, considering that you were the one that they were after.
"Listen Mavuika, I am your creator, so I should have the right to know about all this, no? I may not be strong, but it's not like I'm completely useless," you held her hand against your forehead, both of you looking away from each other.
Feeling the need to lighten her pile of work, you let her go for a moment, going up to her desk and setting up the documents. You didn't look at her, nor did she look at you.
"I'll help," you spoke up.
"You don't need to."
"I insist."
She sighed, yet reluctantly went up to you to do the same. She knew that you wouldn't really change your mind, so there was really no point in arguing any further.
For the past couple of weeks, you were there to help Mavuika. You were always at her beck and call, skipping your work to help with hers. The only thing you did however was confiscate useless documents, sign the ones that she couldn't, and carry piles of work to warehouses.
As you were walking through the place, whistling to yourself, you realized that you had just passed the place that you were supposed to be in. Noticing your mistake, you ran to that place in exasperation, not noticing how a gust of wind helped you to run faster..
"Why do I keep forgetting this shit?.." You rubbed your temples, setting the box down. Looking at all the shelves, you deadpanned at the realization that the shelves were much higher than you anticipated.
"I should've brought a ladder.." You mumbled.
Then suddenly, without any explanation, a pillar of Geo helped you up, slowly rising to the shelves. The revelation almost made you scream, but you kept it in. You were really high up, and the fact that you didn't know what was happening made it even more terrifying. Was this Zhongli's doing? To taunt you before he came to hunt you again? You couldn't really tell, the only thought running in your head was how the hell would you get down.
The even stranger thing that happened was that a gust of wind separated the boxes and placed the one that you brought without you needing to use your hands. It might've been the Anemo Archon, but the fact that if it was, he would probably not help you with anything. He would most likely make you fall instead, taunting you like Zhongli. But it didn't really make any sense. How the hell would they even reach you all the way from Natlan?
As the pillar mounted you down, you were about to run to reach Mavuika, but your temperature rose uncomfortably high, which was very unusual. The sudden change made you collapse onto the ground, golden blood seeping out of your nose. You felt yourself getting light headed as you struggled to keep yourself awake.
"Not now god dammit!" You exclaimed in your head as your vision turned blank, losing your consciousness.
....
Where were you?
You held your head, groaning at the painful sensation. You got a clearer look at your surroundings, notifying you that you weren't in Natlan. No, this place was nothing like Natlan. It was more regal, the entire place being covered by intricate gold designs. You explored the place for a bit, still trying to figure out what happened.
You walked around, then suddenly, you saw a projection in front of you. Okay, it at least confirmed that you were in a dream. But when the projection finished appearing, you saw someone whom you didn't expect to see.
It was... Nahida?
"Greetings your grace," she bowed, and you just told her to stand back up.
"Kusanali? What are you doing here?" You raised an eyebrow. Seriously today was one of the most craziest days of your life, more than when you realized that you were in the Genshin world.
"I have been trying to speak with you, your grace. It was very hard, I admit, and I may or may not have caused those nightmares, I am really sorry about that." Oh, so that's why these horrible dreams happened, and why you couldn't remember them. You smiled awkwardly, knowing that you would forgive her anyway. After all, she was the first to actually help you in this world.
"What did you need to speak with me for?" You asked.
"It's about the other nations, I want to inform you that they are currently on the hunt for you, and want you back into the position of creator," she answered, and now there were even more questions in your head. What was the strange switch up for?
"But I must ask your grace, is this what you really dream of, your throne room?" She pointed at the giant throne at the back, and you quickly went to answer.
"No, I don't dream about anything like this," you replied back in confusion. Right, was this supposed to be normal?
When you turned around to ask Nahida a question again, she was gone. Was she hiding? No, she was completely gone, you couldn't feel her presence any where, almost as if she was forced out of your dream.
You looked around more and more, only to realize that there was a carbon copy of you on the throne.
They looked exactly like you, except more regal, and more intimidating than what you could ever be. However, you did notice that they were... Crying? Tears were definitely spilling out of her eyes, yet their expression stayed the same.
Yea this was weird.
You looked around again to see the Archons behind you. You flinched at the sight, however, they weren't looking at you, rather they were looking at what you could assume to be the previous creator. Their expression was one of pity, and in almost half a second, they attacked the creator. Yet that "you" didn't move a muscle, allowing them to get a hit. As you stared at the throne, there was golden blood seeping out, yet the creator was as hard as stone.
They had sealed the creator.
....
You woke up with a gasp, feeling sweaty and uncomfortable. Looking at your hands, you saw they were trembling. Your throat felt dry, way too dry for your liking. As you reached out for the nearest liquid next to you, your hands landed on a cup of tea, which you picked up and drank immediately. You calmed down a bit, reminiscing on what you just experienced.
"So that's what happened, I wonder why.." You mumbled. You finally payed attention to where you were, and saw that you were back in Mavuika's office. Huh, you didn't remember being here last.
Finally paying attention to what was next to you, you saw a tray on a stool, and some food on it. The tea you drank just now was probably from that tray.
Your eyes wandered, and it stumbled upon Mavuika. She was on a chair too, yet she was sleeping, her arms crossed. As multiple ideas went through your head, it finally clicked.
"Was she taking care of me?" You thought, yet you were too much in a trance to wake her up and ask her. Your cheeks were flushed, and you felt them getting warmer.
You wondered what this feeling was, the way your heart started beating faster and how you felt all giddy inside.
"Ah whatever, I'll figure it out soon," you muttered, oblivious to your own feelings.
Sorry I didn't include the abilities part too much, I was more focused on the creator and Mavuika's relationship đ
#reader insert#genshin impact#genshin x reader#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin x reader#yandere sagau#sagau x reader#genshin impact sagau#genshin sagau#sagau cult au#imposter sagau#sagau impostor au#sagau#mavuika x reader
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stuck between a rock and a hard place | S.R.
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You, an undercover agent, uncover a hidden secret of the country's largest operation, putting your life in danger and under the protection of the BAU.
who? spencer reid x fem!FBI!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, hospitals, medical inaccuracy, drugs, sex crimes/trafficking, attempted sa, reader works in sex crimes. mentions foyet and also 6x24 (supply and demand). established relationship. word count: 7.7k a/n: this has been sitting in my wip folder for far too long. i am now emotionally attached to these two. i will write more of this specific pairing because now all i want is for them to be happy.
Spencer
It wasnât every day that men and women in suits piled into the BAU carrying evidence boxes, everyone stood up at their desks. Spencer watched as Andi Swann followed in behind the other agents, not even bothering to greet the team as she went straight to Emilyâs office.
Prentiss opened the door, letting Andi in before beckoning for Reid to join them. This had to be about you.
Ignoring the way his heart rate spiked, Spencer stood up from his desk and went up to Emilyâs office. On the other side of the bullpen, the rest of the team filed into the roundtable room.
âSpencer, have a seat,â Emily offered, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of her desk.
Glancing at Agent Swann, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, âNo, Iâll stand.â
Andi cleared her throat, looking at Spencer, she spoke, âY/N missed her last two check-ins. As her next of kin, I need to notify you to let you know that as of now, the FBI is considering her missing.â
He wanted to be angry. He wanted so badly to be mad, but heâd seen this before. Years ago, an agent in Andiâs unit missed her check-ins and the BAU helped find her. More than that, he knew how much Andi cared about her agents, so he couldnât find it in himself to be mad.
âSection Chief Cruz has asked that the BAU help to recover Y/N,â Emily said, looking at Spencer. âYou know I have to tell you that you canât be on this case,â she explained, leaning against her desk, eyes flickering as she tried to read Spencerâs expression.
Taking a deep breath, Spencer looked at Emily, âY/Nâs gone missing, and Iâm not allowed to help look for her?â
Sympathetically, Prentiss shook her head, dark hair swaying with the movement. âYou know itâs a conflict of interest to be involved with a loved oneâs case.â
âIsnât that kind of what the BAU does?â He couldâve rambled off a list of BAU agents who worked on cases involving their loved ones â including himself and Emily.
Turning to face Agent Swann, Emily suggested she join the rest of the team in the roundtable room. She waited until the door was closed before speaking again, âWhenâs the last time you saw Y/N?â
Closing his eyes, he remembered the morning of the day you left, the both of you had stayed up late as if you could delay your departure, but the last time he saw you was when he dropped you off at the Sex Crimes Unit before making his way up to the Behavioral Analysis Unit. âWe havenât even spoken since she left,â he answered, almost a month ago now.
âIs there a chance she tried to reach you or her family?â Emily asked. She had to ask, he knew that, but it didnât make the questions any less ridiculous to him.
Shaking his head, he began to pace around the office, âNo, she wouldnât have done that. She follows the undercover playbook obsessively. She always said freestyling was like signing your death certificate.â He tried. He tried to get you to leave him breadcrumbs, but you never did.
Nodding, Emily watched as he paced back and forth âWhen did you get married?â
Pressing his lips into a thin white line, he stopped in his tracks, âWhen I came back after The Believers. It was the next day.â You had offered to sleep on the couch in an attempt to give him space when he asked you to go to the courthouse with him. That was two months ago now.
He didnât want space. Not from you. Never from you.
Finally, he sat down.
âDid you tell anyone?â Emily asked, sitting down in the chair next to him. âDid you have a witness to sign your marriage certificate?â
Nodding, Spencer reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and produced three rings, his wedding ring, your engagement ring, and your wedding band. You didnât have the time to get them soldered together yet. âRossi was our witness,â he responded, âHe was the only one who answered his phone.â He slipped his ring on and closed his fist around your two rings.
After a moment, Emily stood, âIâm going to speak with the rest of the team, but I wonât tell them anything I donât think is pertinent to the case.â Which was her way of saying âYour secret is safe with me.â âStay in here as long as you need, Spence,â she offered before walking out, shutting the door tightly behind her.
He thought of the last night you were together. Spencer tried to check in with you, he told you that if your job ever became too much, you just had to tell him, and heâd be there. What he neglected to tell you was that he was beginning to feel like your job was too much for him.
You had given him the opportunity to hold you close, and instead, he let you slip through his fingers.
Opening his fist, he looked down at your rings and the indent they had left on his palm, slipping them back into his pocket before he walked over to the roundtable room. Everyone paused what they were doing to look up at him.
Spencer just shrugged and looked at Emily, âI canât just do nothing.â
In response, Emily nodded solemnly and suggested he go through the case files with Matt.
It had been hours. The sun had set, jackets had been shed, and takeout had been ordered. The clock behind him showed it was nearly midnight, meaning it had been almost two days since anyone had last heard from you.
âOh god,â Penelope said, her voice cutting into the thick silence of the roundtable room. Her fingers began frantically typing on her laptop.
Spinning in the office chair, Spencer wheeled over so he could look at the screen, vaguely aware of Emily hovering above him, âWhat is it? What did you find?â
She hit the keyboard so hard he thought they might break, but she answered, âThe trauma center at Johns Hopkins reported a Jane Doe brought in a few hours ago. She matches Y/Nâs description.â
âDid they run prints?â Andi asked, of course, there would be red tape if the hospital tried to run your prints, seeing as you were undercover.
Another tap and dozens of files opened, âIt looks like she went right into surgery. Uh, the EMTs reported she was listing off a string of numbers when they brought her in⊠265D019Z?â
Spencer swallowed thickly, âThatâs Y/Nâs badge number.â
Shaking her head, JJ looked over at the map of DC on the wall, âItâs a two-hour drive to Baltimore from here.â
âBut itâs a thirty-minute flight, Reid, Tara, Swann, and Alvez go. The rest of us will look into what happened from here,â Emily doled out responsibilities, nodding at everyone as the team broke.
Spencer stayed still, still looking at Penelopeâs screen, his eyes flickering over the documents. Words jumped out at him, drugged, punctured, and knife. It made his stomach churn. How had you gotten to Baltimore? Your unit had you set up in an apartment near the Hill. When did you travel from the district to Baltimore?
The thirty-minute flight felt like it was hours long, the drive from the airstrip to the hospital dragged on, but thankfully Emily had called the hospital ahead of time to let them know who you were and who was coming for you.
A doctor stopped the four of you from going into the room, a police officer was already stationed outside of the room, and the blinds were closed. Please, Spencer wanted to plead, please just let me see her.
âSheâs weak, she just came down from recovery and she hasnât fully woken up yet,â the doctor said, placing her hands on her hips. âI canât in good faith let you go in there and badger her with questions. Not with no one in there to focus on her well-being,â she ordered. The doctor stared the four of them down with piercing gray eyes.
Taking a deep breath, Spencer peeked through the doorway when a nurse exited your room. âSheâs my wife, Iâll advocate for her,â he responded, hoping the doctor would let him through. He could feel Tara and Luke staring, but he didnât care.
Nodding, the doctor continued sizing Reid up, âAlright, but just you, for now. Sheâs not awake enough to be questioned anyway.â Stepping to the side, the doctor let Spencer through before blocking the doorway to everyone else.
In the worst way possible, you took his breath away. Your skin was sallow, you had an IV, nasal cannula, and a chest tube out the left side. Walking to your right, he took a seat next to you, taking your hand in his and pressing a gentle kiss to your bloodied knuckles â evidence that you had put up one hell of a fight. âOh sweetheart, what did they do to you?â He whispered even though he knew you wouldnât answer.
Reaching over you, he smoothed your hair from your face, your skin was clammy, probably as a result of blood loss. It looked like they were still transfusing, so you had probably lost a considerable amount of blood.
Shuffling the seat closer to you, Spencer took your hand in his. The doctor came back in holding a tablet, âDr. Reid?â
He hummed in response, not daring to take his eyes off of you. âWhat happened to her? Why did she need surgery?â
âShe had been bleeding out in an alley, according to the police officers who reported to the scene. The other agents are talking to them now,â the doctor said, tapping a few buttons on the tablet. âShe had been stabbed several times in the upper left side, we went in to repair damage to her spleen, liver, and lung. There was some strain to her heart, it appears she was drugged before she was stabbed.â
He intently watched the steady rise and fall of your chest before he spoke up again, âIs she going to be okay?â
Setting the tablet down, the doctor paused before answering, âWeâll know more when she wakes up.â
Spencer leaned back in the chair, finally taking his eyes off of you and looking at the doctor, âWas there anything⊠did theyâŠâ He felt ridiculous, having spent the better part of his adult life in the BAU, and he couldnât even put the words together.
To his relief, the doctor shook her head, âThere were no injuries that suggested she was sexually assaulted.â
Reading the doctorâs badge, Spencer nodded. âThank you, Dr. Herman.â
âHit the call button when she wakes up, weâll need to evaluate her pain and other treatment,â the doctor said, gathering her things before walking out of the room, and shutting the door behind her.
Spencer kept his eyes on you, tapping his foot on the ground impatiently, every once in a while, his phone rang, but he didnât have the energy to talk on the phone. When his phone buzzed, he pulled it out of his pocket and checked the messages.
Penelope Garcia: How is she? Spencer Reid: Still sleeping. Penelope Garcia: How are you? Spencer Reid: Not sure.
Setting his phone on the table, screen down, he watched you again, every once in a while, your nose would twitch, or your eyes would flutter. Every time he would hold his breath, hoping youâd open your eyes.
He waited, and about an hour after he had arrived, a small, keening noise came from you. His head snapped up at the sound, your eyes were still closed, but you were moving. âY/N?â He whispered hesitantly, not wanting to wake you up if you werenât ready. Slowly, he stood up from the chair, not sure if he should keep waiting or if he should hit the call button.
You were muttering something, talking to someone in your sleep, when suddenly you jerked away. Instinctively, Spencer put his hands on your shoulders to stop you from tearing your stitches, and it was that touch that caused your eyes to snap open. âNo, no, no, no,â you babbled, frantically looking around the hospital room.
âY/N,â Spencer said, keeping his hands on your shoulders, âYouâre safe, Iâm here. Youâre at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore.â
With wide eyes, you looked up at him and mouthed the word âBaltimore.â As if you were trying to figure out how you had ended up in Baltimore, something the BAU still hadnât figured out. âI thought IâŠâ Your voice was nothing more than a rasp, but with the bruises he could now see littering your neck, that didnât surprise him much. âDid you see it?â
Spencer pushed the call button without you noticing, âDid I see what, love?â He asked, keeping his voice low as he gently sat down on the edge of your hospital bed.
You furrowed your eyebrows and looked around the room, âIs Andi here?" Your voice was tight, like you were struggling to breathe. "I need to talk to Andi.â
Helplessly, Spencer watched as the number signifying your heart rate jumped, âNot just yet, alright?â He said, looking up when the doctor and a nurse came through the door.
The doctor introduced herself and started trying to get you to even out your breathing, one of the monitors was beeping like crazy until the nurse hit a button on it.
All he could do was watch, making sure he didnât get in the way. Listening in to words about medications and making a mental note to research everything. âHowâs your pain, Y/N? On a scale from one through ten.â The doctor asked, standing at the foot of the bed.
âLike a seven? When I breathe itâs more like a nine,â you answered, every word was strained. The doctor flashed a light in your eyes, âThat isnât helping,â you said through gritted teeth.
The doctor said something to the nurse, prompting her to nod before pushing something through your IV. After a few moments, Spencer watched as your heart rate lowered and your body visibly relaxed into the mattress. You nodded softly when the nurse asked if that was better.
Dr. Herman left and the nurse scrawled some notes down on your chart, introducing herself as Amelia before she left as well.
âOh no,â you whispered, looking in the direction of the door. âIs the whole BAU here? How badly did I fuck up?â
Quickly, Spencer shook his head, âYou didnât, at all. Itâs just me, Tara, and Luke,â he tried to reassure you as best he could without knowing the full story. âDo you feel up to talking?â He asked, smoothing your hair away from your face.
You nodded gently, âI need to talk to Andi. Alone, if itâs okay with you.â
âI can wait right outside in the hallway,â he offered, holding your hand in his and skimming the pad of his thumb over top of your knuckles.
You hummed contentedly, âCould you see if I can have water?â
Grateful to have something to do, Spencer stood up, leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to your forehead, âIâll be right back.â He stepped out of the room, garnering the attention of the agents who were waiting in the hallway, all of them staring at Spencer expectantly, âAndi, she wants to talk to you.â
The Unit Chief nodded and disappeared into the room, leaving the door open just a crack.
He was gone for three minutes, that was the time it took him to walk to the nursesâ station and ask if you were allowed liquids and back, but when he returned the door to your room was wide open. âWhere did they go?â He asked, looking over at Tara.
She was still leaning against the taupe hospital walls before nodding in the direction of the red exit sign, âSwann was in there for maybe two minutes before she came out in a huff, she took Alvez with her.â Lewis spoke calmly like it didnât necessarily mean anything to her.
But it did to him. Walking back into your room, he stood at the side of your bed, âWhat did you tell Andi that you didnât want me hearing?â
âHuh?â You sounded tired â rightfully so. Your pupils were dilated, which told Spencer that the drugs that the doctors had given you were working.
It comforted him that you werenât in as much pain, but you were still hiding something from him. âYou asked me to leave while you talked to Andi because you didnât want me to hear what you were telling her. What did you tell her?â
Your face softened as your eyes filled with a different kind of hurt, âDonât profile me.â You were too tired to hide the pain in your voice.
He raised his eyebrows and shrugged, âDonât lie to me,â He countered. You were lying by omission, but what was worse was that you mightâve been putting yourself in danger.
âPlease donât leave me,â you whimpered.
Spencerâs chest tightened as he watched your eyes fill with tears, he sat down on the edge of your bed and took your hand in his. âIâm not going anywhere. Why would you think Iâd leave you, darling?â
Your eyes were half-closed, âbecause youâŠâ your voice trailed off and he squeezed your hand to get your attention. âWhen Scratch had Emily, you wanted to kill him,â you murmured.
The air had been knocked out of his lungs. You hadnât been talking about a divorce. You were saying that you could identify your assailant, and you didnât want Spencer to know. âI wonât go,â he whispered, âIâll be right here.â
âIt was Jake,â you mumbled, barely able to open your mouth as you fought your exhaustion.
That hadnât been the answer he was expecting. He swallowed thickly, âJake did this to you?â He asked slowly, looking at your hand, your fingers intertwined.
Minutely, you shook your head, âJake blew my cover, Spence.â Yawning, you proceeded to mumble about him doing it on purpose.
Untangling your fingers, Spencer reached out and smoothed your hair away from your forehead, âGet some sleep, angel. I love you.â
You hummed an âI love youâ back, and the next moment your eyes were shut.
A nurse came in and asked for a moment while she checked the output of your chest tube, ushering Spencer and Tara out. âOkay, Iâll bite, whoâs Jake?â Tara asked, putting a hand on her hip as she looked expectantly at Reid.
âJake is her partner. When sheâs not undercover and just out in the field, theyâre partners,â Spencer explained.
Tara pursed her lips thoughtfully, âSo, he wouldâve known that she was undercover.â
Nodding as the newly added weight of the situation threatened to pull him down, Spencer turned and faced you, watching as the nurse examined you as you slept. âHe blew her cover on purpose,â he reached up and rubbed his eye. Jake knew exactly what he was doing when he blew your cover, and you knew exactly what you were doing when you begged Spencer not to leave you.
âWe have to go back in and ask her more questions,â Tara said.
Usually, Spencer agreed with Tara, but not this time. He saw the monitors you were hooked up to, he read your chart, and he watched the concerned looks on the nursesâ faces. They all told him that you werenât stable enough to be speaking, let alone a cognitive interview. âNo,â Spencer said finally.
Clearing her throat lightly, Tara stood next to him in the doorway, âWe canât let them get away, Reid.â
âAnd I canât lose her,â he rebutted, ignoring the way his voice broke in his desperation.Â
Stepping back slightly, the other agent nodded in understanding. âOkay, Iâll call Emily. You go sit with her.â
She didnât have to tell him twice; he pulled a chair up impossibly close to your bedside and draped his jacket over the back of it before loosening his tie and sitting down.
You
When you woke up, it was still dark outside, but the bright lights of the hospital room made it hard for you to get any real rest. You were pleased to find that, true to his word, Spencer was right next to you when he woke up.
He was sleeping, resting his head on his hand with his wrist bent awkwardly. âSpence,â You whispered, clearing your throat, âSpencer.â You couldnât reach out to touch him, but you wanted to wake him up, so his wrist wasnât sore.
Jolting awake, he looked at you, âHey, did you just wake up? How do you feel?â
It was a weird question, you felt like an absolute dumpster fire. âBetter,â you whispered, âless hurt, achier. Sore. I donât know, my head feels fuzzy,â you rambled, trying to move higher up on the hospital bed, but being limited by the chest tube. âHow long do I have to have it?â You asked, staring at the plastic tubing as if you could make it go away via the power of suggestion.
âAt least through the night, but it could be longer,â he said, reaching over and smoothing over the edges of your blanket. âDo you know what they gave you?â Spencer asked, shaking out his wrist.
You hummed in response, âNo, it was intravenous though. They were big on amphetamines, but it didnât feel like a stimulant. Benzos maybe,â you told him, your voice was soft. The pain in your throat had subsided after being intubated during surgery, but you were still swollen from when Cal grabbed you.
None of this made sense to you. The one thing that bothered you more than anything else was why Cal stopped when Jake said to. It couldnât have been as simple as the money.
Spencer mustâve noticed you burrowing into your memories, âYou remember everything?â He asked gently.
He knew what he was implying, in more cases involving severe trauma, victims generally remember everything or remember nothing. It was lucky for law enforcement when they remembered, but bad for the victims. Bad for you. âMostly,â you breathed, avoiding his eyes. âIâm so sorry,â you said softly.
âWhy? You donât have anything to be sorry about,â he tried to reassure you, reaching out and taking your hand in his.
You hummed, âI donât remember anything after they drugged me, just the stuff before. Just theâŠâ Your voice trailed off as you returned to your confusion. âWhoâs still here that I can talk to?â
He squeezed your hand comfortingly, âDo you feel up to it?â
âIâm afraid I donât have much of a choice,â you answered him despondently.
Spencer nodded before he got up from his chair, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before he stepped out into the hallway and let Tara in.
The agent smiled at you gently, âHey, Y/N, how are you feeling?â She asked, sitting down at a free chair at the end of your hospital bed, leaving the chair at your side available for Spencer to return to.
You gave your best attempt at returning the smile before you answered, âI think Iâm going to make it.â
As Spencer sat back down next to you, placing a water cup on your bedside table, Tara opened a file and looked through it, âCan you start by telling me a little bit about your assignment? You were undercover as⊠Barbara?â She read from the file.
Nodding slowly, you held out your hand for Spencer to hold, âYeah, but they called me Babs.â
Three days ago...
You shifted self-consciously in the gold dress. It was a silky, slippery number that displayed more than you particularly liked. Spencer would probably like it, but heâd hate how uncomfortable you were in it.
Inadvertently, you smiled at just the thought of your husband. It was late, so he was probably at home, reading next to the fireplace. Maybe he was on a case, off somewhere in the United States and saving lives.
It had been twenty-nine days since you had last seen him.
âYou look gorgeous tonight, Babs,â Johnathan McCallister, better known as Cal, told you, reaching out and placing a hand on either one of your shoulders before placing a kiss on both cheeks.
Bashfully, you smiled at him, âYouâre too good to me, Cal. I canât believe you got me in!â Deep down, you knew tonight could be the night, you would be able to take down The Program. At least the D.C. chapter of it.
When it was over, you could be Y/N Reid again, instead of Barbara McFarston.
The Program took women around your age and sold them into sex slavery. The chapter in Washington D.C. was one of the most active, which made sense when you looked around the room and saw a majority of the people were elected officials â men and women alike.
Andi Swann had assured you that taking down this chapter would create a domino effect, causing the other chapters to topple. According to her, if you could take down D.C., Miami, and Los Angeles, The Program would most likely cease to exist.
Turning to ask Cal about the selection tonight, you were startled to see familiar gray eyes on your companionâs other side. You felt your façade slip, but only for a second before you pasted a brilliant smile back on your face.
You tilted your head to the side, âAnd who might you be?â You asked Jake, wondering if Andi had sent him in to get a status report on you.
âJake Cohn,â he answered, and goosebumps spread over your exposed skin at his answer. He shouldâve said William Jacoby, that was his identity for this case.
In horror, you watched as Jake leaned in to whisper something in Calâs ear, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. You bit your tongue as Cal wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in tightly, âLetâs talk.â
You stumbled a little over your own feet and looked at Jake with wide eyes, the leader forcefully shoved you into a private room, one that would probably light up like a Christmas tree under a blacklight. âWhatâs wrong, Cal?â You asked, standing up straight.
He reached over and grabbed the back of your neck, gathering the hair at the nape of your neck in his fist. The force of it made you scrunch your shoulders up, âYouâre a fucking fed?â He seethed, tossing you to the ground in one swift movement.
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â you tried to convince him. Tried to flip the script so that Jake was the liar instead of you.
Cal grabbed your throat next, holding you down on a booth seat. âOh, Y/N⊠Jakeâs been one of my best employees for years.â He said, chuckling at the betrayal in your eyes, he only laughed more when you kneed him in the gut. âOh, I like it when they fight back.â
You shut your eyes tightly as you heard the clinking of his belt buckle, but they snapped back open when you heard the word, âStop.â
âWhat? Did you want first go on her?â Cal asked, wiping his cheek â you mustâve scratched him in your struggle.
Jake cleared his throat and met your eyes, âWe should keep her clean, you know?â He said, and for a moment you thought he was actually trying to help you, âThink about how much a clean fed would go for here. Especially in D.C.â
And just like that, your hopes were dashed, âheâs right,â you told Cal, trying to formulate a plan.
âShut up, whore,â Cal spat, causing you to involuntarily flinch.
At least thereâs nothing he could call you that you hadnât heard before, in your line of work, people got very creative.
Cal looked at you, inspecting your neck where he had grabbed you before, âYouâll make me a lot of money, wonât you?â He said, rubbing a hand up and down your arm soothingly before poking you with a needle.
Your legs gave out beneath you, but Jake caught you before you hit the ground. âIâm sorry, Y/N. I didnât think heâd do this. I thought heâd kick you out, but I didnât thinkâŠâ
Looking up at him, your throat burned, and you werenât sure if you were going to cry or throw up, but you shut your eyes. âNo, you didnât.â You donât just casually tell the leader of a sex trafficking ring that the person with them is an FBI agent.
Present
âAnd thatâs the last thing you remember?â Tara asked, scribbling something down in your file.
You nodded absentmindedly, âI thinkâŠâ Your voice trailed off as you looked at Spencer, âI think Jake mightâve been in charge the whole time. Pulling the strings from behind the curtain while he waited for the perfect time to catch me off guard. Thatâs the only reason Cal wouldâve backed off when Jake told him to,â You proposed your theory, not missing the way Spencer was holding your hand a little tighter than before.
Taraâs brows were raised, âJake Cohn has worked in the bureau for almost a decade, it would be hard for him to evade detection for that long.â
âBut he knows exactly how to evade it,â you rebutted. âHeâd know all of the tricks from Sex Crimes and all of my tricks. He- He set me up,â you realized.
Spencer turned around and looked at your monitor, âOkay, letâs take a break. We can talk more later.â
Getting up, Tara let Spencer know she was going to call the rest of the team before she stepped back into the hallway.
âMy chest hurts,â you said, hating how your voice sounded like a whine.
In response, Spencer smoothed your hair back in an attempt to comfort you. âYour heart is racing,â he whispered, âTake a deep breath, okay?â
You nodded slowly, breathing in deeply through your nostrils and letting the air collect in your lungs before blowing it out your mouth. Looking up at Spencer, worry plain in his eyes no matter how hard he tried to hide it, you came to a decision, âSpence?â
He bowed slightly closer to you so he could hear you better, âWhat is it, love?â He moved his hand, so it was gently cupping your cheek.
Leaning into his touch, you whispered, âItâs too much.â The only thing you had left was to hope he knew what you were talking about, the words were too hard right now, but you felt them contributing to the burning in your chest.
âOkay,â he answered. âItâs okay. You donât have to worry about disappointing anyone.â
You practically melted back into the hospital bed; the weight of your job eased off of you. Nodding, you closed your eyes, âItâs good, this is good. I just feel crazy, but a good crazy.â
Spencer smiled at you, âOkay crazy,â he whispered, âIâm going to-â He was abruptly cut off by his phone ringing, furrowing his brows, he swiped the screen and held the phone up to his ear, âHey, JJ.â
Cocking your head to the side, you tried to listen to JJâs side of the conversation, but either she was speaking quietly, or Spencer had his phone volume really low. From the way Spencerâs jaw tightened, you knew that this couldnât be anything good.
He looked at you before looking at the door, âDo you know where?â He said in a tone entirely unfamiliar to you, it was low and steely. Reaching over you, he nimbly pressed the call button on your bed, âOkay, keep me updated.â
âSpencer, what is going on?â You asked as the nurse came into your room, faltering for a moment as she looked at the two of you.
Placing a hand on the bar of your hospital bed, Spencer looked at the nurse, âDo you have somewhere secure she can be moved to?â
The nurse looked shellshocked, surely the FBI occupying the hospital wasnât an everyday occurrence, âI donât⊠I donât think so?â She seemed unsure of herself.
âSpencer,â you repeated his name.
He turned to look at you, âJakeâs here and heâs looking for you.â Turning back to the nurse, he pointed at you, âShe has to be moved.â
âI donât⊠Iâm just a student, my preceptor is taking a break. I could try to find-â The nurse stammered nervously. âWe donât usually just move people.â
Nothing about this situation was usual, but one look at Spencer told you this was life or death. Your life or your death. You sighed in defeat, âThis is really going to suck.â Reaching over to your side, you gripped the tube that had been draining blood from outside your lung and pulled it out. Like ripping off a band-aid.
In the process, you tore the stitches holding it in place and set off all kinds of alarms, leading to a crowd of nurses and doctors charging into the room.
As someone held pressure down on where you were bleeding, someone said something about moving you to a sterile procedure room, and the nursing student trailed along, whispering âThat was the stupidest smart thing Iâve ever seen anyone do.â
Everything was blurry when you woke up next and, through the blinds, you could see that the sun was finally rising. The warm, orange light peeking through like lines on a piece of paper.
âHey,â Spencer said from right next to you, placing a gentle hand on your arm. âItâs okay, youâre okay,â he whispered.
You looked away from him, back towards the blinds, âWill you open them?â You rasped, your throat felt raw, and your body felt heavy.
He got up and ambled over to the window, twisting the mechanism until the sun poured into your room. âHow are you feeling?â
âHeavy,â you whispered, the mental weight of the past several days was threatening to take you down, but physically you felt like Atlas himself, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.
Spencer hummed in response, âThey sedated you, standard procedure for people who rip their own chest tubes out.â He adjusted the way your gown rested on your shoulders, âLuckily you didnât do too much damage.â
You took a deep breath and leaned your head so you could look out the window. The outside felt so foreign to you now, you couldnât remember the last time you had breathed real, fresh air. âSo, what is the damage?â Your voice was little more than a murmur but with just the two of you in your room, it wasnât hard to hear.
âYouâre going to be fine; they think the tube can go later today. Then theyâll evaluate whether enough youâre strong enough to go home, itâll probably be another couple of days,â He explained to you, matching your gentle tone. âJohnathan McCallister is in custody, and Jake Cohn is dead,â he told you, studying your face for any kind of reaction.
Closing your eyes, you felt white hot tears stream down your cheeks. âIâm sorry,â you whispered, laughing a little despite yourself. He probably thought you were losing it, crying over the death of someone who had nearly had you murdered.
The edge of your mattress dipped down slightly, and you opened your eyes to see Spencer sitting next to you, âYou donât need to be sorry, my love.â Gently, he rested a hand on your hip, skimming his thumb over the rough fabric of your hospital gown, âHe was like family to you. Iâm not sorry heâs dead â Iâm not. I am sorry for that loss, though.â
Nodding, you felt it as your face crumpled, leading Spencer to lean down and hug you as best he could. âIâm sorry I scared you,â you said as he pulled away.
Your furrowed your brows in confusion as he reached into his pocket and produced your wedding ring, taking your left hand, he slid the rings on, âFor better or for worse, right?â
A small smile grew on your face as the gem on your finger shimmered in the morning light, âfor richer or for poorer,â you continued.
âIn sickness and in health,â Spencer whispered, eyes flickering around the hospital room.
You reached up a shaky hand and cupped his cheek with your palm, âto love and to cherish.â You said, feeling a dopey, lovesick grin blooming on your face.
He turned his head and kissed the center of your palm, âuntil parted by death,â he finished, taking your hand in his.
âNo dying,â you insisted, feeling your energy begin to drain, you started to understand why the doctors didnât want you going home for a few days.
Spencer hummed in response, âYou almost did. If you hadnât been found when you were-â his voice broke off and you had to tear your eyes away from his for a moment. âI still canât believe you chose that,â he whispered, looking at you like you hung the moon.
Shrugging as if it was nothing, you melted back into the pillows, âI had a split second to weigh my options â get sold into sex slavery or get stabbed in the chest.â
âA catch-22,â he nodded, wrapping his head around your impossible decision. You couldnât help but wonder how long it would take until the fear in his eyes left.
You shifted a little in the hospital bed, the sheets rustling as you did, âWe get it, youâve read Joseph Heller.â
He smiled at that, the light teasing seemed to bring brightness to his face, âWhat is it about blood loss that makes you think youâre funny?â
Laughing lightly, you squeezed his hand as tightly as you could manage, âI am funny. And Iâm tired.â
âGo back to sleep then, baby,â he said softly, âitâll all be here when you wake up.â
There was a party in your hospital room. It started with just Emily, coming in because you were finally up to seeing anyone other than Spencer, and it ended up being the entire BAU.
Someone had gone to the apartment and gathered clothes for you so that, once your chest tube was removed, you could put on real clothes. So now you were sitting up, wearing sweatpants and a ratty old college sweatshirt, and laughing with the BAU. You were leaning heavily on Spencer, who was also sitting on your hospital bed, but he didnât seem to have a problem with keeping you steady.
Luckily for you, no one in the BAU wanted to ask about what had happened on your assignment, they were more interested in the rings that adorned your and Spencerâs fingers.
âI still canât believe you two secretly got married,â Penelope said. âOf all of the times for me to not answer my phone.â
Next to her, Luke shrugged, âHonestly, I can believe it. It feels like a very Y/N and Reid thing to do.â
Gently, Spencer rubbed your back. His hovering was quickly going to become insufferable, but right now you were welcoming every touch with open arms.
âWell, weâll have a party for the two of you. When youâre up for it, of course,â JJ said, smiling from where she was standing next to Emily.
You wanted to shake your head and tell them that it really wasnât necessary, but asking the BAU to refrain from throwing a party was like asking a shark to stop swimming. Instead of debating, you just smiled and bobbed your head.
Eventually, Andi showed up, just as you knew she would. âHey, guys,â Emily nodded in the direction of the doorway, âWhy donât we go raid the hospital cafeteria?â
After a few more hugs, including a lingering one from Garcia, the BAU, save for your husband, filtered out, and Andi made her way to the foot of your bed. âHey,â you said, your voice was soft.
Nine years. You had spent nine years in the sex crimes unit. Spencer had done the math, youâd spent approximately seventy-six percent of that time undercover, missing birthdays, holidays, not ever really looking forward to the future. Until now.
You, the most decorated member of the sex crimes unit, were leaving.
Suspiciously, you eyed the files in Andiâs arms, one was a case file, the other a plain manila folder. She silently handed you the case file, and you shared a look with Spencer before flipping it open. âThe Program is gone?â You asked, your eyes skimming the folder.
Swann nodded, her brown hair swaying with the movement, âThe arrest of the leader of the D.C. chapter greatly contributed to that, but it was the death of the ringleader that took the remainder of The Program down.â
Closing your eyes, you nodded as you tried to process what she was telling you. Jake had been in charge all along. âAndi, I-â
âIt was your intel that did it,â she cut you off. âFrom your last several assignments, everything you collected directly contributed to the downfall of this trafficking network. One of the largest networks the FBI has ever seen.â
She handed you the next file, labeled with only your name. You flipped it open, well aware that Spencer was reading from over your shoulder. âI donât qualify for retirement,â you told her, furrowing your eyebrows, and looking at the papers in front of you. You didnât qualify for retirement, and yet, you were looking at a retirement offer.
Your unit chief nodded understandingly, âI pulled some strings, with some help. Collectively, Prentiss and I know a lot of people.â
Spencer placed a supportive hand on your back, and you looked up at Andi. âIâm only thirty-two?â You asked, it wasnât a clarification, it was a question.
âAnd yet,â she answered, âyouâve done more for the Bureau than most agents could hope to do in their whole career. This plan came from the director, Y/N. He wanted you to have it.â
Shaking your head, you handed the folder over to your husband so he could look through it. âI donât⊠can I think about it?â
âHeâll want an answer soon but talk it over and give me a call when youâve come to a decision,â she said, grabbing her things and making her way to the door. âAnd Y/N?â
You lifted your head up to meet her eyes, âYeah, Andi?â
She smiled at you, a rare, real smile from her, âMake the right decision for you. You have a small army ready to support you through everything.â
Slowly, your gaze followed her out the door, waiting until you heard the latch of the door secure. Spencer handed the folder back to you, âWhat do you want to do?â
You flipped through the folder again, it was a lot of money, and there were a few different distribution options, but it was more than you felt youâd ever need. âI donât really feel like I deserve this,â you whispered, reaching your hand up and rubbing the back of your neck. âThe Bureau doesnât offer early retirement like this, not without extenuating circumstances,â you continued.
âThey did it with Hotch,â Spencer said, reading the file over your shoulder.
Shaking your head, you leaned over to look at him, âThat was way different, Haley was murdered by a serial killer.â
Spencer sighed, âI think youâre selling yourself short, darling. The Program was trafficking almost 12,000 people across the country. Thatâs almost 70 percent of the yearly total trafficking victims. You took them down,â he told you earnestly.
Your shoulders slouched forward, âI didnât do it alone, though.â
âDidnât you, though? They sent you in with no communication device, no emergency signal, and information that wasnât even true. Your unit told you Johnathan McCallister was the leader of the ring, but it ended up being a decorated agent and youâre the one who figured that out,â Spencer spoke emphatically. âYou almost died in the process, and now there are thousands of victims who are going to go home â all thanks to you.â
Wiping at your eyes, you looked at your husband, âYouâre biased.â That felt true, but Spencer was the person who knew you best in the world.
âWhatâs holding you back?â He murmured gently, sweeping strands of your hair behind your ears.
Smiling unsurely, you closed your eyes, âFear of the future. In the past nine years, the longest Iâve ever been home was four weeks. I donât⊠What do you want me to do?â
He shook his head slowly, âitâs not my decision.â A diplomatic answer, you shouldâve guessed.
âBut what do you want me to do?â You pressed.
Sighing, you watched him weigh his options, âIf my choices are you going back out into the field and getting hurt again, where maybe it doesnât have this good of an outcome, or you, safe at home, where I get to see you more than approximately three months a year, then the choice is clear.â
When he laid it out for you like that, it was pretty clear. âMaybe I could finally see what all the BAU spouses are talking about. You know, how youâre never home,â you said. Some part of you always felt disconnected from the other BAU family members, Spencer wasnât the one who was never home, you were.
Spencer laughed lightly, âWe could celebrate your birthday together.â That was the one day you always missed. Almost six years together, and something always came up on your birthday.
âIâve never had this before,â you whispered, there was still something about it that felt tentative, almost frail.
Smilingly softly, Spencer reached out and took your hand in his, âHad what before?â
You beamed, âA future to plan.â Everything was always laid out for you, every day was spent waiting for the next directive, a new assignment. âI mean, not in nine years.â
There were always dreams, late-night murmurs with Spencer about a house with a yard and kids running around, but they were just dreams. The nights when you were able to sleep next to each other. âDo you have plans for us?â
Nodding rapidly, you answered, âOh yeah, you and me, Iâve got big plans for us.â
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The Calm Before the Storm
With the family coming from Dragonstone to visit after the birth of Y/Nâs first child, Aemond must control his impulses and be civil with the Velaryon boys for the sake of his wife. (or judas part five).
9k (18+)
Warnings: smut, lactation kink, oral sex (male receiving), facefucking, switch aemond, strong language, hints of yandere (so basically canon) aemond, death, and referenced violence.
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Their footsteps echo in the hallway as they make their way to the private rooms her mother and father are staying in for the next few days. Her husband's shoulders are squared, his posture straight, the entire way there. Ever since he woke up this morning with the knowledge that Daemon, Rhaenyra, Jace, and Lucerys are here, he hasn't allowed himself a moment to relax. If it weren't for the three-week-old babe clutched against her chest, she'd reach out to take his hand or rub up and down his back.
Without turning her head to look at him, she says, "You need not worry. My brothers simply wish to meet their niece."
The doors to their chambers come closer and closerâ
"I am not worried," he says. "Your half-brothers pose no threat to me."
The long conversation they shared last night as the babe suckled at her mother's breast proved otherwise. It was late enough that their servants had gone to sleep, so neither of them felt the need to speak in the language of their ancestors to keep anyone from overhearing. They spoke quietly in the common tongue to not wake their daughter from her milk-drunk trance.
He confided in her that he didn't feel comfortable having his daughter around her half-brothers without him present in the room. At first, she had been offended. She looked at him like he had struck her and bit her tongue as she fought the urge to say the first nasty thing that came to mind. It had to do with his brother. It was a snarky comment regarding her reluctance to allow their daughter to be alone in his presence, but she stopped herself before she could say it. No matter how much she loved them, he had reason to be wary of them after what they did.
The guards hold the doors open for them and announce their presence as the couple enters the room. The first thing Y/N sees is her mother and father standing together, the former with a hand cradled on the underside of her heavily pregnant belly. Then, it's her half-brothers sitting on the couch behind them. And, finally, her youngest brothers, Viserys and Aegon, play together on the carpet-covered floor.
"My sweet girl," Rhaenyra says in greeting with a bright smile and holds out her arms.
Aemond, ever the attentive husband contrary to the assumptions from her side of the family, is already reaching to take the babe from her arms to allow her the chance to embrace her mother. A quiet, "Thank you, my love," is muttered under her breath as she passes their daughter off to him, trying not to ogle him in the presence of her family. Seeing him with Daenaera, cradling their small child against the body she knows so intimately, never fails to make her stomach flutter.
What she doesn't notice due to her preoccupation with her mother is that her brothers are staring daggers at Aemond from where they lounge on the couch. As always, he doesn't miss a thing.
Jacaerys in particular has the more sour expression between the two of them, seeing that he is older and more knowledgeable about the ins and outs of marriage, but it does little to intimidate her husband. Aemond simply stares back with a blank face, daring him to say or do anything to provoke him in the presence of his wife and child.
Next, he turns his attention to Lucerys while Y/N is greeting her parents. The younger of the two is less angry and more frightened. Ever since what happened between them at Driftmark, they've never been able to let their guards down around one another. And now that the young boy he maimed has grown into a man, one who rides the largest dragon alive and has bested Criston Cole with a sword, Lucerys has often anticipated retaliation of some sort whenever they meet again.
But he made a vow to his wife. He swore that he would not harm either of her brothers, and it was not something he took lightly. It wasn't a means to end their argument, it was real. For her, he would leave them be...unless they swung first. In that circumstance, he cannot deny that he would revel in the opportunity to get revenge. His vow to her did not mean that he would befriend her brothers, or that he cared about them. It only means that he cares more for her and their daughter.
Aemond never breaks his eye contact with Lucerys as he stands by in silence. The mischievous glint in his remaining eye seems to say, "I won." The tiny, shifting weight of the newborn cooing in his arms is proof of that.
Before anything can be said between the two of them, Y/N pulls away from the embrace shared with her parents and turns to him to say sweetly, "MÄzigon, valzÈłrys. IvestragÄ« zirÈł rhaenagon zirÈłla." Come, husband. Let them meet her.
The little girl fusses in his grasp when he walks over to the three of them without speaking a word, and this causes Y/N's brows to pinch together in concern. Her hand comes up to stroke the top of her head, fuzzy with wisps of silver hair, to soothe her as Aemond hands the babe off to her grandsire. Although he does not cry, his eyes become glassy at the sight of his daughter's child.
Daemon says, allowing her little fingers to curl around his pinky, "Gevie." Beautiful. His eyes shift to look back and forth between Y/N and Aemond before finally settling on the former. "She has your lips and nose." A pause, and then he looks at Aemond. His tender expression hardens a little, but he keeps it contained. "I see you in her as well."
He hums in appreciation of the commentâa rare compliment, perhapsâbut is quick to correct him.
"She is the image of her mother," he says softly and valiantly fights a smile when his eye abandons his uncle to look upon her little face.
The harshness that is always present in Daemon's gaze when Aemond is near softens at this as though he has been presented with a new side of him. Throughout their marriage, Daemon has made no secret of his distaste for her husband. Not only because of his scheming grandsire but because of his history with her half-brothers. With every raven sent to King's Landing from Dragonstone, he made a point to ask her how he had been treating her, promising that he would be there on Caraxes with haste should he mistreat her. But this...Even though she has told him countless times that she is happy with her marriage, this is the first time he has truly seen it.
Next, Rhaenyra holds her. It's almost effortless how she falls back into the motherly role once a babe is placed in her arms. Having birthed five children that survived beyond the womb, it is second nature to her, and it won't be long before the sixth comes along.
"What is her name?" her mother asks.
This brings a smile to Y/N's face.
"Daenaera."
-
Dinner with the entire family, both the Green and Black sides, is never a dull event.
She sits with Aemond to her right and Daemon to her left, little Daenaera sleeping with her head on her shoulder. Both Alicent and Rhaenyra advised her to give the babe to a servant to allow herself to enjoy the night, but she politely refused. Her little girl often had trouble if neither she nor Aemond was near, so she is held to her chest with one arm while the other reaches for the fork beside her plate.
The last time they had a dinner all together was before she married him. It's a little different tonight seeing that Viserys is not well enough to attend, but there's a new member of the family to bind both sides together this time, so the night has progressed without issue thus far. How could anyone be compelled to argue or incite violence with an infant present at the dinner table.
It was a calculated decision on her part, which Aemond clocked instantly. His lips fought the urge to turn up at the ends in a slight smirk when she insisted upon keeping the babe with her. She knew that he would refrain from any impulsive behavior regarding her brothers with her at the table. His cunning, devoted lady.
Aemond watches her as she struggles to hold their daughter up with one arm while she reaches for her cup of wine. He's readying to scoot back from the table and take Daenaera from her arms, but he's halted by the sound of her brother's voice.
"Sister, if you won't let the servants help, please allow me to hold her while you eat."
His one eye shifts its focus away from her to find the source of the offer.
Rhaenyra says, "How kind of you, Jacaerys." She then turns to look at her daughter past Daemon, leaning forward into the table. "You should take him up on the offer, my love, you must be tired."
The younger princess hesitates for a second and glances at her husband as though to tell him to keep his composure, then nods.
"Here, let me bring her to you," she says to her brother who was already prepared to walk around the table to their side. "If she wakes, she will not be easily soothed by anyone but her father."
It is true. For some reason, only the Gods may know, she is most comfortable being held and talked to by him when she's crying in the dead of night. Y/N is a close second, but no one makes her feel quite as safe as her kepa does. Even now, when she's too little to speak or walk or show a hint of personality, she knows that he will cross any line imaginable to safeguard her and her mother's lives.
The comment brings him pride, and it's difficult to refrain from smiling to himself when he hears it. Despite all their attempts to frame him in their minds as an uncaring husbandâhe didn't pretend not to see the comments Daemon made in letters she left out in the open for him to findâhe has proven otherwise. He knows it must pain them, especially her father, that there are no excuses for them to look down upon him.
"You must support the back of her head with your hand or your arm," she says softly to her younger brother as she transfers the babe into his possession. "Thereâlike that."
It takes little time for her to circle back around to their side of the table and take her seat beside her husband. From a glance, she can tell that his body has tenses from the sight of Jacaerys holding Daenaera. It isn't as though he's deluded enough to think her brother would wish to harm their child or act in an unbecoming way in her presence, despite his grudge he knows his nephew well enough to know that. Yet, it makes him squirm in discomfort all the same.
What if he accidentally hurts her? What if she wakes from her nap to see a new, strange man holding her and is frightened? Would anything be able to stop him from taking his child from his arms and glaring at him for inadvertently upsetting her?
It isn't until Aemond feels his wife's right hand settle atop his clothed thigh under the table that he is snapped out of his thoughts. Gods, he feels so unlike himself when he takes a step back and analyzes his thoughts at the present moment.
He always swore to himself that he would not care this deeply when the time came for him to take a wife and sow his seed, but, as he has been forced to realize again and again, he does care. In fact, he cares so deeply that he doesn't know what to do with himself when anyone is close to either one of them. It's possible that his vow to remain detached from his feelings, to focus solely on his duty as a husband and father without complicating things, was another defense mechanism unknowingly put in place to protect the part of him that always cared too much.
As the others talk amongst themselves and pick at their food, she leans in to say softly, opting for the native language of their family over the common tongue to keep it as private as can be, "Nyke gÄ«migon bisa iksis qopsa syt ao." I know this is hard for you. Her eyes soften, and she can feel the hard muscle of his thigh relax a little when she strokes it gently with her thumb. "Yn emÄ gaomagon sÈłz." But you have done well. There's a pause, and then she mutters quietly enough that no one else can hear, "Perhaps I may express my gratitude after dinner."
This makes his body go still.
Since it is his blind eye that is closest to her, he cranes his neck a little to allow him to see her face. The expression he wears is virtually unreadable to everyone else in the room, but she can see the fire she lit within his body from gazing at him alone. Seeing that their lives have been consumed with doting on Daenaera in the time since she gave birth, only opting to hand her off to servants for the night to allow them time to rest, they haven't had the energy or urge to engage in any sexual activities. Not that she can be on the receiving end of anything for two moons, but that doesn't mean she cannot satisfy him.
Aemond's brows furrow a little, then he mutters, chancing a glance around the table to ensure nobody is listening, "We cannot."
Her lips twitch up on both ends into a slight smile.
"There are other ways," she says softly, careful to keep her tone hushed and words ambiguous in meaning.
From the outside looking in, they appear to be a happy couple, so taken with one another that they are lost in a conversation that causes them to ignore their surroundings. In a way, that perception is true, but the topic being discussed isn't what anyone would guess.
He doesn't respond to this verbally.
Instead, he hums to himself and turns his focus back across the table to where her brother is cradling their daughter in his arms, but she knows she got under his skin. A second after he looks away, his hand finds the one she is resting on his thigh, and he weaves their fingers together. The sole reason he didn't say anything back to her was because he knew he wouldn't be able to control what would come out of his mouth if he let himself speak. As peacefully he and Daemon have managed to co-exist today, Aemond does not think he could say any of the things he says in the privacy of their bedchamber in his presence without causing a brawl.
Jace smiles down at the babe and says, not to anyone in particular, "She'll make a fine queen, will she not?"
Rhaenyra's head turns to look upon the two of them, and it's clear to see the warmth this brings to their mother's heart.
It's Alicent, however, who responds.
"Yes." She looks at Rhaenyra, saying, "We have had our share of difficulties, as all families do, but Daenaera is a blessing."
The effect it has on her mother is clear in her. Y/N's eyes linger on her for the better part of a moment before they find Otto sitting next to her, doing his best to mask the displeasure evident in his expression at the notion of Rhaenyra or her children ascending the throne. Aegon, on the other hand, seems as though he couldn't care less. Although they rarely dwell on the matter of succession to avoid fighting, she and Aemond have both agreed that he does not want the position or the duty it entails. He would be content to live the rest of his days as he does now, drinking himself into oblivion and fondling any servant girl left alone with him for too long.
The hand resting on Aemond's thigh squeezes at the rare sight of their mothers getting along.
Rhaenyra says earnestly, fighting off a smile, "It gladdens my heart to know that we are both grandmothers to this beautiful babe."
There's a distant flash of longing in her eyes in the second she takes to pause, then rise from her seat with her cup raised. The last time she toasted someone at dinner, it was to Alicent, but, this time, she turns toward where her daughter is sitting beside her husband.
"I raise my cup to you, brother," she begins. "For your devotion to my sweet girl. As the Queen said, we have had our difficulties as a family in years past. Yet, I find I can sleep soundly at Dragonstone knowing my only daughter and grandchild are undoubtedly safe and contented at your side." Her cup is raised higher. "To Prince Aemond. You have my gratitude."
At first, he is frozen in his seat and unsure of what he hears. How could this be the same woman who demanded he be "sharply questioned" after one of her bastard sons maimed him for life? Then, as he takes in what she says, he has to fight the urge to doubt them. His immediate assumption is that this is a facade being put on for the sake of bettering her appearance, but when has his half-sister ever cared for appearances? One glance across the table at Jace's dark brown hair answers the question for him. So, he thinks, if it isn't to make herself appear gracious, seeing that she is too confident in her position as heir to deem it threatened by anything she does, it must be genuine in some way.
It goes against everything he knows to admit to himself that Rhaenyra is being anything but ambivalent toward him or Aegon, and yet...He inclines his head to her in a gesture of acknowledgment and gratitude. It's all he can think to do until words find him, and they eventually do. A lengthy moment passes thenâ
"You have my gratitude as well, sister," he says, although strained, to Rhaenyra. It comes as a surprise to everyone watching after all that has transpired in the past. He then looks upon his wife with a tenderness few ever receive from him. "For having her."
-
As soon as the door shuts behind the servant who gently took Daenaera from her arms, Y/N has Aemond pushed up against it with her arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, and their lips connected in a kiss.
After they dined, Rhaenyra felt a sensation in her body that she knew all too well and apologized to her daughter for having to hurry back to Dragonstone on such short notice. She made certain to apologize to the Queen, asking her to pass along the message to the ailing, bedridden King Viserys if possible. This saddened Y/N, of course, but she cares for the comfort and health of her mother. She agreed it was better that they return to their ancestral home at the first sign of her impending labors. Seeing that this was a possibility, they brought her midwife along for the trip, so the Princess is soothed by the knowledge that her mother is to be well taken care of on the journey home.
Her mother is the last thing on her mind now, though. All she can seem to think about is the man she has trapped between her body and the door to their chambers.
Aemond kisses her hungrily, his hand cupping the back of her neck and head to keep her from pulling away as he delves his tongue into her mouth. He is careful when touching her, however. His hands slide down the sides of her hips to gently squeeze her bottom, but not too forcefully. She gave birth three and a half weeks ago, and the maesters were strict in their instructions to wait five at the very least to encourage healing.
Knowing this, he feels compelled to stop her despite the ache of his erection pushing at the fabric of his breeches.
He parts from her for a second to murmur, "I will not bed you in this condition," before lurching back in to kiss her again.
It almost makes her chuckle into his mouth, and she flattens her palm against his chest. It descends against the taut, muscled abdomen hidden beneath his clothes and continues until it reaches what she seeks. Beneath her palm, he pulses with need after three weeks of nothing but the comfort of his own hand.
"Mmm," she hums against his lips as her own tilt up at the ends in a grin, "I'm afraid your body does not know that, my love"âThe tips of her fingers reach for his belt with a confidence she does not have to questionâ"and, as I said, there are other ways."
As if to punctuate her statement, she unclasps his belt in a matter of seconds and pulls from the buckle until the leather band comes free from the loops of his pants. The very same belt that he instructed her to bite down on the last time he fucked her. The sound of the buckle clattering on the floor echoes through the spacious room as she moves to sink to her knees, but he stops her.
Her brows raise in a silent question directed toward him. His answer is equally as silent.
Aemond begins to undress her, starting with the top layer of her dress and patiently working his way down to her underclothes until she is standing nude before him. She knows without having to ask that he does not intend to push the boundaries of their agreement with the maesters by taking her too soon after giving birth. He simply wishes to see her in her entirety. If he will be laid bare, so will she.
Once her clothes all lie in a pile on the floor, she returns the favor. Her gentle touch lights a fire in the pit of his abdomen, but he holds still and watches her undo the buttons of his doublet until the garment comes loose around his torso. It takes little time for the pile of clothes on the floor to grow, and she cannot help but stare at his nakedness with flushed cheeks as though she hasn't seen him like this countless times. Now that there are no more layers left to separate their bodies, he leans in to kiss her again. Slowly, drawing it out for the sake of savoring the moment.
To her surprise, he lays a sweet peck on her lips, then dips his face into the crook of her neck.
"Aemondâ" she warns, not wanting to become too aroused without a way to satisfy herself, but he is too starved from not touching her for the past three weeks to care.
His teeth nip at the delicate skin of her neck, leaving a mark visible for everyone to see as he sucks at the sweet spot that never fails to draw a breathy moan from her. She can feel his mouth curling up into a smirk when she, as though on cue, lets a stifled sound of pleasure escape. It isn't the first time he's left a love bite somewhere that couldn't be hidden beneath her clothes. Every other time, she was quick to scold him once the blissful haze of post-orgasmic bliss receded, but she doesn't feel so angry this time.
It's been far too long since she's had the opportunity to get upset over something like this.
Those desperate kisses descend the length of her fragile neck and go down, down, down until he's crouching to take one of her nipples into his mouth.
"Wait," she says, whining in sensitivity, and braces a hand against his chest. "It's going toâ"
His arms pull tightly around her waist to keep her from moving away before the first drops of it touch his lips. The relief of the milk letting down causes her to let out a sigh, but paired with the inherent eroticism of him doing this, she has to press her thighs together to quell the dull ache felt between them for the first time in weeks. Her hand had fallen to his chest with the intention of pushing him away out of embarrassment, but the sound of him groaning in approval gives her a reason to pause.
Does this...arouse him? He has always had a fixation with her breasts since before she was pregnant, but perhaps it's shifted into something stronger with the changes in her body after birthing a child. She cannot deny that it feels goodânot only due to the relief it provides after going all day without feeding the babe but because of how perverse it feels.
The hand on his chest moves to slip her fingers beneath the leather strap of his eyepatch and toss it to the side. Then, she cradles the back of his head with it, playing with the soft strands of silver hair as he continues to suckle at her breast. It's a strangely thrilling sensation. Her lips part to allow her a shaky inhale, and she feels the hands gripping her waist squeeze hard enough to leave a bruise behind.
Ignited with a new sense of confidence from having a typically strong, dominant man in a position of vulnerability, she asks, "This is what the rider of the largest dragon in the world enjoys behind the comfort of closed doors? Feeding from his wife's teat like a helpless babe?" There's a second of pause, thenâ"Hmm."
He can hear a smugness in the tone of her soft "Hmm" he would often fuck out of her or swat his hand against her ass as punishment for, but he cannot bring himself to do anything about it at the present moment. No, he just lets her nipple slip from his mouth and moves on to the other. The sweet taste of her breastmilk on his tongue makes his cock twitch where it sits, heavy and hard, against her belly. While he is distracted, she reaches down to grasp it.
The sudden stimulation makes him suck harder at her breast in response, and she chuckles under her breath. Her thumb brushes over the tip of him a few times, just for the sake of teasing him, before she begins to pump him at a pace that never fails to send all of his blood rushing down. The hand cupping the back of his head pushes his face harshly into her chest in a desperate bid to bring them as close as possible without having him inside of her.
Another moment passes, yet the lust surging through her has yet to be sated by what they're doing. It matters little to her that she won't be getting anything in return. With how rare physical intimacy is for them as of late, she is eager to indulge in everything they've been kept away from.
"This isn't enough," she says through a sigh.
Her fingers slip into his hair to get a good grip, then tug to pull it taut from his scalp in a way he's done to her many times. This brings him far enough from her breast for their gazes to meet across the limited space between them, and his eye widens a little at her impertinence. As quickly as it widened, it narrows at her. Now that he isn't preoccupied with her breasts, which are no longer as heavy and full with milk as they had been before he worshipped them, he can think clearly enough to decide that she needs to be put in her rightful place.
All it takes is a pointed glare from him for her grip on his hair to release. With how quickly she retracts her hand, one would think he burned her, yet he just looked at her. He remains silent and straightens his spine to bring him back to his full height. This only intimidates her more. With him looming over her, his eye not blinking as he stares, she cannot resist the urge to look away from him.
To this, he makes a quiet "Tsk," sound at her.
Her chin is quickly snatched up by his callused hand, forcing her to meet his gaze and hear what he has to say next. Their faces inch closer untilâ
"Kneel."
Her knees are kissing the cold floor in a matter of seconds. His hand never leaves her chin, keeping it tilted up to prevent her from breaking eye contact.
He nods at her in encouragement, then drops the hand holding her chin back to his side.
"Go on," Aemond commands.
Not wanting to provoke him any more than she already has, Y/N wraps her fingers around his thick cock to help guide it past her lips. But, first, she takes a moment to stroke him, keeping the fire blazing within him burning in the time it takes her to let a string of spit drip from her mouth onto his tip. It makes the movement of her hand pumping up and down the length of him much smoother. The hand that fell back to his side reaches for the back of her head, though, so she keeps her hand firm around the base of his length and dips her head down to put her mouth on him before he grows impatient.
A muscle in his jaw clenches as he watches those pretty lips wrap around the tip, smeared with a mixture of his precome and her spit, and sucks just hard enough to elicit a quiet moan. Then, slowly, never looking away from him, she takes as much of him as she can fit into her mouth until she feels him in her throat.
When she first did this, she thought it quite awkward. Although he assured her he had enjoyed himself, she knew she wasn't keeping the correct rhythm the whole time, and she had to take a few breaks to breathe. After the first time, she decided to make it her mission to perfect the vulgar act. It only felt fair considering how skilled he was with his face between her thighs. So, she did it all of the timeâwaking him from sleep with her throat clenched around him, dropping to her knees in a secluded corner of the library, and, most often, when she dragged him back to their chambers after watching him train with Ser Criston.
Somehow, he had been foolish enough to admit to his older brother how frequently his insatiable wife does this. Aegon had goaded him into it, imploring him to accompany him to the Street of Silk night after night. He droned on about the things these low-born whores would do for the right sum of coin. At last, after hearing him comment on how they are more willing than their wives to partake in such "undignified" behavior, Aemond said under his breath, "Speak for yourself." Although he was pestered for more details, he refused to provide them. Naturally, Aegon made all sorts of teasing remarks for the next couple of days and hasn't been able to look at Y/N the same since.
The hand wrapped around him pumps what remains of him that she cannot fit in her mouth, her other hand gently cupping his stones and stroking them the way he likes. With ample experience under her belt since they were wed, she breathes calmly through her nostrils without having to pull away to allow herself to rest. This allows her to fully devote herself to his pleasure.
And while she is singlemindedly focused on what she is doing, Aemond is losing himself in the haze of warm, wet pleasure.
Targaryens have always been likened to Gods walking amongst men, and how could he deny such a claim with how he feels at this moment? Not only did Vhagar choose to bind herself to him but so did this beautiful creature kneeling before him. Most of the people inhabiting this keep pray on their knees to the Seven, but she prays to him, and with every caress of her mouth, he is pushed a touch closer to the heavens.
Her head bobs in a practiced rhythm, and when she pulls away, leaving just the tip between her lips, she hollows her cheeks to suck harder. If she could, she would smile in satisfaction at how his head tips back in a groan.
"AĆha relgos iksis bÄ hae sÈłz hae aĆha orvorta," he says. Your mouth is almost as good as your cunt. High praise as far as she's concerned. He has made it clear to her on many occasions that his favorite place to be at any given moment is inside of her. "Fuck..."
The last bit was muttered under his breath as he pushed her head further down his length until the tip of her nose grazed his stomach. He can feel her gagging, throat clenching and unclenching around his cock, and forces her to remain this way for another second before releasing her. Yet, even after this, she doesn't retreat to take a breath. She simply opens her eyes to look back up at him and relaxes her jaw to open her mouth to him as much as she can.
He knows without having to communicate verbally what she's urging him to do, and it's a wonder he doesn't spill into her mouth in a matter of seconds at the mere thought of it. There's a glint of mischief in her eyesâwhich he responds to with enthusiasm, taking hold of both sides of her head and guiding every fluid movement. It's more gentle at first. Rather than roughly fucking her mouth the second she gives him the go-ahead, he takes the time to enjoy it and commit every sensation to memory. There's something intoxicating about the power she allows him to hold over her.
Both of her hands slide up his thighs to seek stability, her fingertips digging into the muscular flesh hard enough for her nails to leave crescent-shaped indents in his pale skin. With each thrust, his pace picks up, and soon her spit is drooling out of her mouth onto his sack. Those once gentle thrusts turn rough and unforgiving the longer he spends trapped within the warm, wet channel of her throat. And though he is the one leading, she looks just as hungry for it as she had when she set the pace. If anything, having him hold her head in place to rut into her mouth like a wild beast makes the lust wreaking havoc on her healing body worse. What truly makes it insufferable, however, is knowing that she cannot have him after this. Not to the extent that she craves so badly.
Her lashes flutter with the effort it takes to keep looking up at him like he's a God while she gags on him and takes deep breaths in through her nostrils. Her spit is dripping from the corners of her mouth and onto the floor, his manhood entirely soaked in it too. All the while, Aemond is making noises unlike anything she has heard before. Due to his naturally reserved disposition, he often stifles the moans and grunts that try to leave his lips. But, sometimes, when he's too overwhelmed with pleasure to recall the world that exists beyond it, all of those lovely noises flow freely.
Right now, as she reaches up to give his stones a squeeze with her free hand, he's whimpering, gasping, and grunting all at once. Not only is he a feast for her eyes, he's a feast for her ears as well. Gods, she has never wanted anything as badly as she wants him right now, and the frustration of knowing she cannot do more than this drives her to work even harder. To perform for him as though she's getting paid.
The vibration of her soft moaning around his cock pushes him closer, dangerously closer, to the climax threatening to barrel into him at a moment's notice. Somehow, he hangs on. Not for anyone's sake but his. It has been too long since he has been allowed the privilege of being intimate with his wife, so he tries to stave it off for as long as possible. But, fuck, she's making it difficultâwith those sultry eyes looking up at him through her lashes, cheeks hot to the touch under his palms, and mouth swallowing around him on the upstroke of every thrust. He cannot bring himself to look away from her, and that is what brings him to the edge.
"I'mâ" he tries to give her a warning, but she doesn't need nor want it.
She continues at this pace for another ten or so seconds, intent on milking him dry, until his cock begins to twitch in her mouth with the onset of his climax.
Her lips remain closed around him, determined to catch every drop as his seed spurts into her mouth in pulses of warmth that trickle down her throat. As it always is, the taste is slightly salty, though not unpleasant enough that she can't swallow it all. It isn't until he is grabbing her by the shoulders and guiding her away that she removes herself from him, letting it slip out of her mouth as it softens, still shining in the dim light with her saliva.
When she looks up at him, it is clear to see that he is utterly spent. A job well done as far as she is concerned. Aemond tends to have an impressive amount of stamina when he fucks her, and sometimes they can continue round after round without him having to stop, but she managed to subdue him with her mouth alone tonight.
His chest rises and falls with the rapid pace of his breathing, and she can see by looking into his eyes that it'll take a moment for him to come back down from such a high. It's as though he's in a trance of some sort, staring down at her and panting for air. It only takes a second or so for the trance to break at the sound of her voice.
Her delicate hand slides up the length of his thigh and over his abdomen as she asks in a doting voice, "Do you feel better, my love?"
Without answering, he dips down to heft her into his arms, lifting her and holding her against his body with one hand on the small of her back and the other beneath her right thigh.
As he walks in the direction of their bed, she is giggling and asking him what he is doing, yet he offers no reply. Not until he has her laid down on the mattress. A second later, she feels the bed shift with his weight when he crawls in beside her and pulls the sheet up to their waists. The warmth of his body, solid with lean muscle against her soft, womanly figure, instantly keeps the breeze blowing in from the open windows at bay.
"Hold me," he says, already moving to lay his head atop her breast. "Kostilus." Please.
A second later, one of her arms is wrapping around him, keeping him cradled as close to her as physically possible, and she can feel him loose a heavy sigh of relief he's been holding onto all day. His head fits perfectly into the crook of her neck. Every few seconds, she lifts her hand to rake her fingers through his hair. The silver strands are silken beneath her touch, scented with a hint of lavender from the bath they shared before falling asleep last night. Noticing that it is still tied back in his typical, half-up fashion, on her next pass through, she pulls it free and combs gently until there are no tangled pieces left.
For a while, they lay together with nothing to fill the silence but the sound of their quiet breathing. His head rises with every inhale, her breast a soft cushion for his cheek to nuzzle up against. Neither of them wants to be the one to speak first for fear of ruining the peaceful moment, but, inevitably, she gives in.
His neck cranes to allow him a glimpse of her face before she starts speaking as though they share one mind, as though he knows what she'll say or do before she does it. When she thinks about it, they've always been that way.
"I'm proud of you...You have every right to feel slighted by them all for what happened at Driftmark, I will not deny that," she says, pausing for a beat afterward. The tip of her thumb brushes across his lower lip as she looks down at him with nothing but love in her eyes. "And you still didn't let it stop you from enjoying our time together as a family."
Hearing her lavish him with such praise brings a flush to his pale face, and he must resist the urge to avert his gaze sheepishly. He manages, though. After all, he's faced much more daunting challenges than looking at his wife as she tells him how proud she is of him. If these are the only challenges he has to endure in this new chapter of his life, he'll be eternally grateful. He has spent his whole life yearning to prove himselfâas a son, a dragon rider, a prince, a swordsman, and now a father. Because of this, her approval and praise mean more to him than she'll ever know.
The thumb pressed to his lips is given a tender kiss before he moves on to her index finger, then the next, the next, and the next. His larger hand is clasped around her wrist with his thumb pressing into the center of her palm to allow him to maneuver her hand however he sees fit. Once the last kiss is placed against the small pad of her pinky finger, he releases her wrist from his grasp to lace their fingers together. Aemond holds on as though she is the anchor keeping him grounded to their world, always there to draw him back before he disappears too far into the darkness that has dwelled within him since the day he claimed Vhagar.
Unable to accept it without diverting some of the attention away from himself, he takes it as his turn to praise her.
"You were clever in keeping Daenaera at the table for dinner," he says. A half second later, he utters the next words into the soft skin of her breast. "You see right through me."
Although he can barely see it from the corner of his eye, her lips curve up at the ends in a soft smile.
"I always have, haven't I?"
To this, he responds with his usual hum of acknowledgment and brushes his nose against her peaked nipple. His lips press against the skin just beneath it in another kiss, but he's careful not to stimulate her. It would be cruel to arouse her even further with no way of sating her desires. The next two weeks will pass, albeit slowly, and then he can properly bed her the way he wishes to tonight.
His arms pull tightly around her waist. If she had any hopes of escaping his embrace tonight, it's now clear he has no intentions of entertaining them. No, he will hold her prisoner if he has to. He will do whatever he must do so long as it means he gets to keep her, and the thought of this brings a barely-there smile of relief to his face.
"Sleep," he murmurs, pulling the sheet further up to keep their bare, entangled bodies warm. "Tomorrow, when the babe is taken for her nap, I will take you to visit Vermithor. You cannot ride him yet, but he will be glad to see you. It's been too long. The dragonkeepers have told me he has grown restless."
This makes her smile too.
"I would quite enjoy that."
With that, she relaxes beneath the weight of her husband's body lying atop her and nuzzles her face into the pillow the way he had her breast a moment ago.
It takes little time for the pair to be pulled beneath the veil of consciousness, their breathing evening out into slow inhales and exhales that are hardly audible over the fire crackling in their hearth. For once, all is peaceful in the Keep. Their families dined together as one, the children have been put to sleep by their nursemaids, and the night has descended into a type of quiet so rarely found in a place like King's Landing.
As night descends upon them, the only people still awake within the walls of the Keep are the servants readying themselves for bed after a day of tireless work. While the royal family had been served platters of freshly cooked meats and goblets of the most expensive wine, the smallfolk working beneath them quiet the rumbling in their stomachs with whatever scraps remain if they are so lucky. If not, they eat a plain stew of some sort, accompanied by slightly stale bread and a cup of ale to wash it down. But even that is considered generous as far as lowborn citizens of King's Landing are concerned. Servants within the keep live comfortably compared to peasants living in the city beyond the walls.
Far from where the servants reside, in the stillness and silence of the night, King Viserys slips further into a state of delirium where he lays alone in his room in Maegor's Holdfast. Since his lady wife, Queen Alicent, left to retire to her chambers for the night, he has been muttering into the empty room and talking to ghosts. At last his frail, trembling hand lifts from his chest and toward the sky, reaching for what he could not have as long as he remained alive. With his last breath, he calls out for his love, Aemma, and his suffering is ended at long last as the Stranger comes to take him.
Despite this, the night remains quiet and peaceful. For no one can know that Viserys has passed in his sleep until the servants come to wake him in the early hours of the morning, but, once news breaks among the staff and Queen Alicent is informed of her husband's death, the calm before the storm comes to an end. Soon, dragons will dance, and she will not waste any time in securing her eldest son's birthright. Not after her husband spoke his name in his final hours.
It isn't until an hour after sunrise that Y/N is roused from a deep sleep by the light shining in through the windows that remained open all night.
She sighs and presses her cheek into the pillow in defiance of her current state of consciousness, wanting to steal another couple of moments of rest before she's ushered into the bath by her bright-eyed young handmaidens. But, after lying there for a second or so, her eyes flutter open. The sun has fully risen, she realizes with a sense of urgency. Her feet quickly kick the sheet from her body. Her hand reaches behind her to feel where her husband should be resting beside her only to find the mattress cold and empty.
How had she not felt or heard him leave?
"Aemond?" she calls out drowsily and pushes herself up into a sitting position, looking around the room in confusion.
No answer.
"Nyla?"
No answer.
Nyla is always the first to arrive and aid her in getting dressed for the day, intricately braiding her hair to her head in the fashion her mother wears, not that which Queen Alicent and Princess Helaena prefer. But the sun has already risen, she should have come in to wake her and Aemond already if they had not risen on their own accord...
Y/N abandons the bed and makes for the chair her robe, a rich shade of red embroidered with accents of gold and black, is draped over. Seeing that she is nude, it's the quickest way for her to cover herself and protect her modesty before leaving the room to inquire about why no one thought to wake her as they have every morning since her wedding. Something is wrong, that much she knows. She feels it in her gut and the very air surrounding her.
Rather than find Aemond, she'll first head to the nursery where Daenaera has been sleeping all night. Her husband is capable of taking care of himself, their daughter not so much. If something truly is amiss as her intuition is telling her, the babe comes before her husbandâhe made her come to that agreement the day she was born.
But when she tries to pull the doors to their chambers open, they do not budge. Thinking it a mistake of some kind, she tries again, and they refuse to open no matter how hard she pulls at them.
Her closed fist begins to knock at the door, soft at first, then harder and harder until she is forced to bang on it in hopes that someone will come.
"Hello?" she yells, pounding on the door with both fists. The thought that she is trapped, forced to stay away from her weeks-old child...It makes her efforts double in intensity. "Why have I been trapped in my room?"
No answer.
"I need to see my daughter! Let me outâ"
The sound of Ser Erryk's voice interrupting her plea for freedom pulls a deep sigh of relief from her chest. Of all the men sworn to protect their family, he and his brother have proven the most loyal and kind. Surely Erryk will help her.
"My sincere apologies, Princess," he says, "We have been instructed to keep everyone confined to their rooms until further notice. One of your ladies will be up to bring you breakfast and dress you soon."
Her brows furrow at this.
"And under whose authority am I to be held prisoner in my own home?"
There's a long, drawn-out stretch of silence that follows, and it makes her stomach churn with dread. Something is wrong. This is not normal.
When he does not respond after a moment, she calls, "Ser Erryk?"
He clears his throat.
"Our lord hand is the one responsible, my lady. I am only doing as I've been told."
It takes her the better half of a moment to conjure a response. She is too shocked to put anything into words at first, but, then, her mind runs wild.
"What has happened? What could possibly warrant this?" she asks. After another dreadful stretch of silence, she resorts to shouting. "Tell me! That is an order from your Princess, an heir to the throne no less!"
Despite being strictly ordered not to divulge any critical information to anyone aside from the Hand, Queen Alicent, and her children, he cannot allow her to sit here and suffer in a prison of her making. He has watched her grow up and served her since he was first sworn into the kingsguard. She deserves the truth even if she cannot be freed from her room to do anything about it.
"The king has died. Princess Rhaenys is confined to her room as well by the orders of the Hand. I cannot say more. Forgive me, my lady."
Before she can even process what he has said, Erryk turns and walks away from her door, leaving her frozen in her place with her closed fists hanging at her sides. They have been anticipating this for the past five years, yet hearing it still shocks her.
The king has died, which warrants every lord and lady in his court to be kept out of the way as they make the necessary preparations before it is announced to the city...but it does not warrant the imprisonment of any members of the royal family. Surely, this is a mistake. Surely, there has been a miscommunication regarding who is to be kept from roaming the keep. If Aemond is not here, he must be permitted to go where he pleases, so why cannot she? Why cannot Rhaenys?
A cold chill runs down her spine when the realization of what's happening hits her.
Her feet are carrying her across the room before she can blink, bringing her to the opened windows that overlook the courtyard where people come in and out of the gates to the Keep. What she finds, she does not want to believe, but she's witnessing it with her own two eyes. Lord Caswell is being ripped from his horse by members of the Kingsguard and dragged like a dog through the dirt in the direction of the castle doors.
There is no other explanation for why Aemond is allowed to roam free while she and Rhaenys are held prisoner. There is no other explanation for Lord Caswell to be violently assaulted by the kingsguard for trying to leave the Keep on horseback. There is no other explanation for Ser Erryk apologizing to her. He wasn't just apologizing for locking her in her rooms...
They are usurping the throne.
-
Oh itâs about to get goooood. Let me know if you liked this chapter. Iâve had it in the works since before season two aired but I wanted to wait to finish/post it.
Tag List: @m-indkiller, @tinykryptonitewerewolf, @hopebaker, @bcon24, @eleganttravelercloud, @aemond-targaryenx, @the-blue-banshee, @saramayu, @merakiaes, @its-sam-allgood, @grungegrrrl, @singitoutgirl26, @scarlettmoon98, @cicaspair418, @itisjustwhatitis, @cl-0-vr, @d34d-4c1d, @hargrovehoe, @vainillasmil157, @leahjean, @captainweirdo42, @magnificantmermaid, @dark-night-sky-99, @kaicyl, @ladybug0095, @bellaisasleep, @blackravenart, @isaxbella749, @reneki, @heylosers06, @izzicle, @bucky-thorin-winchester, @hangmanscoming, @harrypotteranna23-blog, @fan-goddess, @glame, @muthafuckingstargirl, @barnes70stark, and @shintax-error.
#fanfiction#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen#house of the dragon#aemond x reader#barely edited we die like men
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SIT DOWN
This is inspired by a TikTok I seen by @blaackaesthetics
Description: Mattheo Riddle is your boyfriend and Theodore Nott his best friend. As much as you love him he doesnât half get on your nerves with the pair of you always fighting like a cat and dog. In a heavily heated argument Theo tells your boyfriend to get you under control which makes you see red.
18+, Smut
⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . âŠ
You, Mattheo and Theo (your boyfriendâs best friend) are currently sitting in the common room. What started as you complaining about his fuckboy ways has turned into a screaming match between you and Theo. Mattheo as usual is caught in between, watching the pair of you with amusement.
The audacity this boy has. You always knew that he was a player and despite your many conversations trying to talk sense into him for the most part you left him to it. That is until he hurt one of your best friends. You warned him, you also warned her but she has always been far too naive. He asked for you to set the pair up, him claiming he wonât do anything to hurt her. For so long you refused until she was practically begging you to. So you have in hoping he doesnât fuck with her head too much but of course she had to fall for him.
âTheo I just donât get how you think you can treat people like that do you not have an ounce of fucking remorse in your body?â
He shrugs his nonchalant attitude grating on you even more âshe knew what she was getting herself in for.â
âYou never once said it was a one night stand you made out like you liked her back.â
âWell she read into things I didnât say any of what she is implying.â
âYou know what girls are like and you still chose to lead her on knowing what would happen.â
He doesnât even look at you still smoking in his own world unfazed by your complaining. Rage fills you even more how he can act so heartless when you had to sit with your friend whilst she cried for two days straight. You have always been protective when it comes to those you love and he has took it too far. You storm over to were he is sat grab the cigarette out of his hand and put it out on the ash tray âfucking listen to me you dick!â
âWhat the fuck!â he shouts standing up and getting in your face âdonât ignore me when I am talking to you I told you to not hurt her, are you really that desperate to get your dick wet you had to sleep with the one person I said not to!â You look him up and down with disgust.
He clenches his jaw rage filling his veins at the way you are speaking to him. No one else dares to and you best believe you are putting him in his place. He gives you a little shove âdo not talk to me like that, I will do what I want she was the one fucking begging for it.â
You shake your head glaring at him âyouâre disgusting.â
âYeah and little Molly fucking lovedâŠâ
âArgghhhâ you want to punch the smug prick but you opt for your wand instead. You have always been to impulsive and prone to anger so you donât even have time to think before you are trying to fire a hex his way. Before the words can leave your mouth your wand goes flying out your hand. Mattheo as always keeping a close eye on the situation had said âexpelliarmusâ without you hearing, damn him and his quidditch reflexes.
âFucking control your girl.â He adds in snidely only making you more angry. âExcuse me I donât fucking need controlling maybe you need to stop being such a filthy manwhoreâŠâ you push him back.
âAll right love thatâs enoughïżœïżœïżœ you feel his arms around your waist pulling you back even though you fight him. He pulls you to face him âsit downâ he nods head to the couch but you just glare at him. âFine Iâll sit you downâ he plops down onto the couch pulling you onto his lap, his arms around your waist in a death grip.
âAre you not going to tell him Iâm not doing anything wrong.â
Theo looks at you smirking at the fact Mattheo tried to put you in your place âMattheo Iâm going to kill him let me go.â
âLove calm down and you stop antagonising her you prick.â Theo just gives an innocent smile âhey Iâm not doing anything was just trying to smoke in peace before I got attacked.â
âCan you blame me you know itâs the one thing I asked him not to do sheâs been heartbroken all week.â
Mattheo nods at you stroking your cheek âI know itâs not worth getting angry over you two need to stop arguing.â He stares deep into your eyes holding you there for a second until you feel yourself relaxing. Your anger dissipates more at his touch and you breathe in getting more comfy on his lap. âGood girlâ he says tucking your hair behind your ear.
âListen mate did you really have to fuck her out of everyone she did beg youâŠâ
âI didnât know she would get so attached you warned her yourself not my fault she is stupid and didnât listen.â
You try to stand up and charge over to him but you canât move with your boyfriendâs strength holding you to his chest. Theo just chuckles at this again. He has always known how quick to anger you are and he just loves winding you up. âMatt donât you dare fucking defend him heâs horrible!â
âTheoâ Mattheo says sternly. He just looks over sighing holding his hands up in defeat not wanting to upset his best friend. âAll right all right Iâm sorry I fucked her can you blame me though I did try and stay away she was practically begging me!â
âYou can apologise to her as well.â
âNo fucking way.â
You look at your boyfriend crossing your arms knowing he will find a way to force Theo to. He just raises his brows at him and Theo huffs âFor fucks sake, what am I meant to say Iâm sorry you like me?â
âNo you say Iâm sorry I donât feel the same way I shouldnât have led you on and you deserve better anyway because she fucking does I could kill you for making her feel like shit when she deserves the world.â
He sighs âlisten I could have never gave her what she wanted anyway it was for the best.â
âJust tell her that then you donât have to be such a dick about everything and do me a favour and stop going after girls you know will only end up obsessed with you do you need an ego boost that bad?â
He rolls his tongue on the inside of his cheek trying to hold back another snarky comment. âFine where is she.â
âIn her common room the last time I seen her.â
âYou want me to go all the way to the Hufflepuff rooms?â
âYes I do I donât want her upset any longer.â
He bounces his leg up and down for a moment âUgh fineâ he storms off out of your common room to find her and you breathe out a breathe of relief.
Your boyfriend slowly lets go of you âyour not a safety hazard are you anymore loveâ he chuckles and you send a sharp glare his way. âWhy do you always defend him Iâm not the one that needs controlling itâs his mouth!â
âI know but you are both in the wrong Iâve told you that you need to control your temper and listen to me.â
âWell he deserved what I was about to do to him.â
âYeah and what was that?â
âIwasgoingtogivehimpigears.â
âWhat was that?â
You sigh âI was going to give him pig earsâ you mutter.
His jaw drops but a laugh escapes his lips despite himself âyouâre fucking crazy.â
âWell he shouldnât piss me off.â
âYou canât just go round hexing people love do you want to get expelled?â
âStop trying to tell me what to do Iâm sick of him telling you to control me what am I a dog?â
âY/Nâ he warns you but you stand up storming to your room. You know itâs unfair to direct your anger at him but thereâs nothing you hate more than being told what to do. You just need some space to breathe and try to calm down. He gives you a few minutes and you sit biting your nails the worst habit you could have.
He eventually makes his way to your room slowly shutting the door and walking over to where you are sat. He tilts your chin up to him. âYou done yet?â
Despite you and Mattheo both being the most impulsive, anger prone people you both know exactly how to calm the other down. No matter how much you try to push him away he can always put you in your place, bringing you back down from the choking feeling of rage.
You clench your jaw looking away still being too stubborn. âStop acting like you are on his side.â
âyour my girl and heâs my best friend Iâm not siding with either of you I told him he was being a dick but you canât act like thatâ
You look back at him and he crouches down between your legs hands running up and down your thighs. âAm I the one that done it? No so you can drop your attitude right now and stop taking it out on me.â
You breathe in knowing he is right but you canât admit defeat just yet. You just cross your arms and he rolls his tongue on the inside of his cheek. âYou going to make me get rid of that attitude then?â
âFucking bratâ he says as you donât answer pushing you roughly down on the bed âwhen I tell you to sit down and shut up you fucking listen to me.â
You go to give him a snarky retort but he leans over squeezing your neck âyou think thatâs wise?â Your mouth snaps shut seeing the look in his eyes. âNow are you going to be a good girl and stop being a bitch to me.â
âYes.â You grit out. âWhat was that love?â
âI said yes.â You say your tone still being bitchy âmhmm not good enough youâre still speaking to me like shit apologise.â
Your jaw drops in disbelief âme apologise what the fuck Mattheo it was himâŠ!â
âYou are acting like a fucking toddler apologise for not controlling yourself and clearly not doing what I say.â
You cross your arms ignoring him, your stubbornness always being your worst trait. He looks at you darkly âsuit yourself.â
He rags of your nickers and skirt âact tough all you want we both know Iâm in control here itâs about time you acted like it.â
Anticipation runs through your body and a dark part of you just loves seeing him like this, you love being put in your place despite all your protests that you hate being told what to do. âYouâre going to do exactly what I say understand?â
âYesâ you breathe out nearly moaning just off his words. âIâm going to do exactly what I fucking please with you and youâre going to take it yeah?â You nod your head at him. âThis will teach you right for being such a brat.â
He usually teases you, starting off slow taking his sweet time eating you out. However you can tell this isnât about his own pleasure or yours itâs a punishment. He dives onto your clit straight away biting and sucking harshly. The pressure is too much and you gasp your back arching âMatt!â You try to pull away or pull his head back but he wraps his arms around your thighs holding them in place âShut the fuck up I donât want to hear another word.â He mutters still continuing his attack.
Despite how overstimulating it is after a while of pressure building you feel yourself coming close to an orgasm you tangle your hands in his hair riding his tongue as he continues to eat you out. He must sense it as well because just it was about to wash over you he pulls away wiping his mouth. You gasp âMatt what the fuckâŠâ
He climbs over grabbing your throat again âI thought I said not another word?â
You let out a half whimper half moan and nod your head. âSorry baby I was so close.â He chuckles darkly âI know and itâs your own fault for disobeying me youâre not finishing until I say so.â
You want to cry, you want to go back ten minutes and change your actions just so he can let you finish. âComplain one more time and Iâll stop all together.â He remains hovering over you eyes locked on yours as he slowly pumps one finger in and out of you. Itâs torture and you buck your hips needing more. You want to cry and beg him but you know it will only make it worse if you speak so you take his teasing and bite your lip as hard as you can.
He eventually pulls out all together stripping his clothes off until his dick springs out. He spreads your legs wide teasing your entrance. âLook how wet you are I bet you love this donât you being put in your place.â
âDonât worry darling thereâs going to be no attitude left in you once Iâm done.â He finally puts himself inside you but he has no mercy. Instantly his pounding in and out your cunt. The pain and pleasure is disorienting and your legs instantly try to close. He growls and pulls them open again âopen your fucking legsâ you do as he says sobbing as he continues slamming his hips into yours âthatâs a good girl spread them nice and wide for me.â
He was right he is going to do exactly what he wants to you and all you can do is take it. Your body goes limp, you stop fighting and let the intensity of the feeling take over you. This gives him more room to get even closer to you driving deeper then you thought possible. âThatâs it take my dick.â You donât even try to hold back your moans as the pain starts morphing into pleasure.
âApologise now.â
You barely hear him lost in a world of your own until he stops causing you to whimper again grabbing him but he just pins your hands above your head. âYou want to cum?â You nod your head frantically âApologise.â
âIâm sorry Matt.â
âMhmâ he says starting to drive back into you âwhat for?â
âFor-forâ you moan as he keeps hitting the spot âMatt!â You scream out trying to convey that you arenât in the position to be listing our apologies.
âCome on love spit outâ he just chuckles taunting you. âIâm sorry for being a brat and not listening!â
âWho do you belong to?â
âYouâ
âSo you are going to listen to me from now on or the punishment will be a lot worse then this Iâve let you off easy.â
You nod your head just wanting to cum. âIâll be good now Matt⊠Iâm getting close.â
âGo on them baby cum.â wraps his arms around your waist pulling you closer and slams his hips in and out with a pace you didnât even think was possible. You are a blabbering mess as you finally finish and tears fill your eyes at you finally being able to release. Matt finishes a couple of minutes later pulling out and you donât even give him a second before clinging onto him.
âThereâs my girlâ he presses a kiss to your forehead seeing you back relaxed in your usual soft state with him. Who knew it just took him pounding into you to release all that anger.
âIâm sorry Mattâ you feel tears running down your face being overwhelmed with the emotions running through you. âI just get so angry and take it out on you but I love you.â
âI know baby you took me so well though you were so good.â He wipes away a few of your tears smiling at you. âYou have to ignore him though okay and listen to me when I tell you to calm down.â You nod your head knowing if there is anyone in this earth that has the potential to tame your rage itâs only going to be him.
#harry potter fanfiction#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin#slytherin boys#fanfic#slytherin boys smut#theo nott#mattheo x you#mattheo x y/n#mattheoxreader#mattheo x reader#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo smut#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle smut#smut#theodore nott
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fic idea from 2020 that the paris special unearthed from the archives of my brain:
So far, there wasnât a single thing about this new reality that wasnât terrible. She was grounded, for some reason, which she didnât know about, and was therefore double grounded for breaking the rules of the grounding. Which she hadnât known about!
To make matters worse, when sheâd gone to text Alya to complain about the unfairness of it all, she realized she didnât have Alyaâs number. In fact, she didnât have anyoneâs number except her parents, Nadja Chamack, her grandmother, and someone called The Supreme.
She next turned to Tikki to vent, but when she checked her (admittedly cool) purse, she found her kwami wide-eyed, terrified, and most horrifiyingly, muzzledâwhich Marinette couldnât figure out a way to undo.Â
So she was stuck in the bakery on a Saturday morning with angry parents and no one to talk to and no ideas on how to get out of the worst version of Paris possible.
Which is when Adrien Agresteâs bodyguard walked in. Brief hope flared in her heart before extinguishing just as quickly when she saw he was alone.
Which she shouldâve expected. With how awful this world was, she wouldnât be surprised if Adrien didnât even exist here. She couldnât imagine a world this awful with him in it.
She bagged up the Gorillaâs order with a heavy heart and sent him on his way before looking out the bakery display window with a sigh.
Only to spot Adrien Agreste himself, with an asymmetrical haircut and thick kohl around his eyes, staring back at her. He was different than her Adrienâand she couldnât say she was a fan of the hairâbut he was just as handsome, and his eyes even more striking with the eyeliner.
When he noticed her looking, his eyes widened and his cheeks started to turn pink.
Was he blushing?
Marinette could feel her own cheeks heating up as he stared. She ventured a small, embarrassed wave, and heâhe!â
He lifted his own hand, brought it to his lips, and blew her a kiss.
Crash!
Marinette, along with about 300 macarons, toppled to the floor.
âGood morning, Marinette!â said Adrien Agreste, during a time that was decidedly morning but far too early to be described as âgood.âÂ
She scowled at him.
âGirl, you okay?â said Alya CĂ©saire, who wasâwho was speaking to her.
Right.
Alya CĂ©saire was speaking to her. Because Alya CĂ©saire, Hesperiaâs favorite lackey, was apparently Marinetteâs best friend.
And Adrien Agreste was the boy Marinette was in love with.
She plastered a smile on her face. âIâm great, Alya! Super dee duper. Absolutely swell. What a beautiful morning with all the sunshine and theâŠ. morning.â
Alya looked unconvinced.
âAnd the Adriens!â Marinette added hastily. âI mean, the Adrien. Because thereâs only one Adrien and he sure is⊠here. Hello Adrien! Your face is looking very attractive this morning, because you are an attractive person. And thatâs⊠something positive I can say about you.â
âThanks, Marinette!â said Adrien with a dopey little smile. She wasnât sure if he was mocking her or just deeply stupid. If her diary entries were to be believed, it was probably the latter. âYour face is looking attractive this morning as well. Did you do something new with your makeup?â
Marinette had done her makeup the same way she did every day, but she supposed his Marinette opted for a boring girl next door âno makeup makeupâ look.
Alya squealed next to her before giving her shoulder an excited squeeze.
Marinette took several deep breaths.
âYes, I thought Iâd try something new.â
Adrien smiled and nodded.
Alya shoved her forward.
Marinette barely managed to restrain herself from sending Alya a patented Toxinelle Death Glare. Instead, she smiled wider at Adrien.
Her cheeks hurt.
âThank you soooooo much for noticing my makeup. That is a thing I am excited about. I love putting on makeup to impress cute boys, tee hee!â
Adrienâs face fell. âIâm sorry, I didnât mean to implyâI know you always dress for you, Marinette! Thatâs something I really admire about you.â
His eyes were so earnest, so sincere, and for a second, she almostâ
Marinette cleared her throat. âThatâs so nice! You can leave now.â
Adrien blinked.Â
âBye!â She shooed him.
âOh, um, bye Marinette,â he said with a sheepish wave, and then he left.
Nailed it.
âGirl, what the actual fuck?â
#miraculous ladybug#ml paris special#miraculous fanfic#marinette dupain-cheng#toxinelle#shadybug#noodles writes
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