#joe goldberg fanfic

[fictitiousmagines]

You've Already Got Me Wrapped Around Your Finger Part 4

You couldn't imagine my delight, when you invited me to a mid-day picnic after you poured your heart out to me in the stacks at Mooney's. I'd wanted to kiss you, so desperately, but heroes wait for their moment.

And you are a vision here in this bustling park, the pale blue sun dress and the same ole tote that you sling over your shoulder. You are a vision. You're effortless, in a way that people try to emulate but never quite measure up to.

You blush and babble as you unpack a spread of cheese, crackers and fruit. As you unpack, your most prized possession tumbles from the depths of your tote: your journal. You've mentioned in passing, that you draw and write in there and its the only time you feel like you can be yourself. I am Captain Ahab and your journal is my white whale.

"Oops," Y/N says while quickly stuffing it back in. Its a deep green with tattered corners but she touches it with such tenderness.

I hope you can be yourself with me, Y/N. I hope you can tell that I'm here to save you. I'm here to take care of you.

It was an absolutely perfect day: the picnic, the train back to our little part of New York City, the leisurely ride home, kissing you on your porch.

Your lips were so soft, Y/N. They're almost a drug. The way I got lost in the moment and buried my hands into your soft hair. Pulling away, you looked up at me with a look that only can be described as vulnerable. Beautiful. I wanted to take you right there. But instead I stroked your cheek with my thumb and reassured you that I had a wonderful time. That I couldn't wait to see you again.

When you texted me later that night, you pulled me out of my reading. But you are always a welcome distraction.

"Thanks again for the beautiful day together. Wanna grab a drink later this week? PS. I lost my journal, maybe on the train? I'm bummed! Does Mooney's sell blank journals?"

I don't answer because I immediately plan on buying you one and bringing it to you in the morning. A nice one. And each time you pour your soul into its pages, you'll think of me.

It was irresistible grabbing it out of your bag on the train. Your attention was on the loud commotion to your right. In an instant, it went from your bag, to my backpack. Hidden under the picnic blanket.

Maybe I'll buy you a new bag, one with a zipper. I don't want anyone pickpocketing you. Anyone could grab your wallet and get your personal information. I just wanna keep you safe. Not everyone is going to have your best intentions at heart. But I do.

I've been worried about you, Y/N. This is just my way of checking on you. I'm sure you're worried about overloading me. About having too much baggage, but you could never be too much for me. The more I read, the more fascinated I became.

I learned from your journal, new things but also things I only suspected. Like, that your dads care overwhelms you sometimes. Even though you love your dad dearly. That you worry that it might be time to put him in a home, even though your heart couldn't bear it. That your brother resists helping you, even though you work round the clock. That you miss your mother. And rereading The Outsiders makes you feel more connected to her.

Your art is always so gestural. So much feeling.

My heart stopped when I saw that you even wrote about me.

You wrote about meeting me at the shop. Our coffee together. And even about eating bodega sandwiches in the stacks of Mooney's. How I made you feel safe at that moment.

"I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I think I like this guy Joe."

[smokietaylor]

New Fanfic Alert!!! In The Box (Joe Goldberg x Reader)

Description: You are rushing about your morning, and things just seem to not be going your way. Things get worse when you run into a man at the coffee shop, spilling your freshly brewed coffee all over him. He tells you not to worry about it when you offer to pay for his dry cleaning. It isn't until later that you realise you will be paying for that spill in more ways than one.

NSFW Content 18+ only Minors DNI

READ MORE HERE!!!

[stillinracooncity]

that feminine urge to read something that makes you cry, get angry, scream, laugh like a hormonal teenager, turn up the heat, feel like the most unique and beautiful human being on earth. *sighs*

[happy74827]

Can you make more Joe Goldberg? You did such aan amazing job on the first one that I NEED a second one. Just please consider. Thank. Love your fics btw 💖💖💖

Lily of the Valley

[Joe Goldberg x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Coffee might not be his favorite, but things can change when it involves a person like you.

WC: 659

Category: Fluff

Fortunately, I already had this small idea in mind for our lovely stalker man and this request really just put the icing on top of the cake. Hopefully it fulfills your needs 🙌 (also you’re too sweet… thank you so much for the kind words 💞)

『••✎••』

Coffee. The hard, hot, and bitter drink that is the reason many people get out of bed each day and the reason why some people stay up until the early hours of the morning. He never understood the appeal.

But that didn't mean he didn't enjoy the smell of coffee beans roasting, the smell of fresh ground beans being poured into a filter, and the smell of the finished product. He didn't understand how something so bitter and disgusting could have such a calming and comforting smell.

Joe had been sitting in a booth in a coffee shop for the past few hours, watching the world outside go by, sipping a small mug of tea, and his current read, "The Woman In The Window" by A.J Finn, in front of him. His eyes were trained on the people going by, not really taking much of anything in. He was on autopilot, a default setting he slipped into whenever his mind was full of something else.

It was only when a waitress with a short, black pixie cut walked over to his table that his eyes come back into focus, and his thoughts began to slow down. She didn't look like she belonged in a coffee shop. With a long, floral dress, combat boots, and a cardigan, she was far too pretty and too interesting to be serving lattes. She was a rose in a garden full of daisies, a peacock among chickens.

Then, like a snap to reality, the sound of his name pulled him away from her and onto… you. The whole reason he was here in the first place.

If he thought the waitress was a rose, you were a whole bouquet.

"Jonathan! Are you going to order anything, or are you just going to keep sitting there, scaring all our other employees?" You said a laugh in your voice.

He hadn't even noticed the waitress had already left, and now, you were standing by the table, holding a coffee pot.

Yeah, he needs to stop letting his thoughts take over.

"No, no, I was just, uh, reading."

"Reading a book, or reading her?" You said, cocking your head to the side, indicating the waitress who had moved on to another table.

"Reading the book."

"Mhm, sure." You said, not at all convinced. God, he just wanted to kiss the smirk off your face. Those pretty lipstick-covered lips moving against his.

You shook your head, smiling.

"You want a muffin… or something? On the house, since you're a regular and all."

He looked down at the book again, then back up at you. Unlike the waitress, you were dressed for work in a black, collared shirt tucked into black pants and a black apron tied around your waist.

It told him a lot about you, like the fact that you were a rule follower organized. The other waitress played confidence to stand out. You wanted to blend in, but still, he noticed.

How could he not notice you?

"Sure."

"Blueberry, right? Your usual."

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll be back in a second."

You had just turned to leave before you spun on your heel and stopped.

"And, Jonathan,” you paused. "That book in your hands? Wonderful read."

As you walked away, he realized how his heart had started to beat faster, and he couldn't stop the grin on his face.

A bouquet? No, you were something far more rare and far more beautiful than that.

You were an orchid.

And when you returned with that perfectly shaped muffin and that award-winning smile, Joe decided this would be the last time he ever chased a woman. Because this one?

You?

It was as though you were a mix between all his past loves and yet someone entirely new.

You were that new orchid in the greenhouse, the lily of the valley, and he wanted to nurture you and make you grow.

It's time to stop blending in; he would bring you out to bloom.

[cosmicblogs]

Guys please give me request on oneshots

Masterlist ig

Steven Grant / all the moon boys

Aaron hotchner

Spencer reid

Miguel o’hara

Peter Parker (Andrew)

Hobie brown

Joe Goldberg

Ghost/ König

Frank castle

Please send me request for them.

[mokkkki]

remus john lupin in swte

[marluvvs]

can you pls do a fic of joe goldberg? maybe joe stalking f! reader

New Obsession.

a/n: First “YOU” fic, this was interesting to write.. 😘

You had just moved to the city, excited to start your new job as a journalist. You had heard great things about the city and couldn't wait to explore everything it had to offer. Little did you know that your life was about to take a dangerous turn.

As you were walking home from work one evening, you noticed a man following you. You tried to ignore him and pick up your pace, but he kept getting closer. Finally, you turned around and confronted him.

"Can I help you?" you asked, trying to sound confident.

The man, who introduced himself as Joe, seemed harmless enough at first. He even apologized for following you and explained that he was new to the city too and just wanted to make friends. You felt a little uneasy, but you didn't want to be rude, so you exchanged numbers and went on your way.

Over the next few weeks, Joe started showing up everywhere you went. He would randomly show up at your favorite coffee shop or the park where you liked to read. You tried to ignore him, but he was persistent. He even started calling and texting you constantly, wanting to know what you were doing every minute of the day.

One night, you were working late at the office when you heard a knock on the door. It was Joe, and he had brought you dinner. You tried to politely decline, but he insisted, saying that he wanted to make up for being so creepy.

As you ate dinner with Joe, you started to realize that there was something off about him. He seemed too perfect, too interested in you. And then he said something that made your blood run cold.

"I've been watching you, y/n," he said. "I know everything about you."

You tried to get up and leave, but Joe blocked your way. He had a crazed look in his eyes, and you knew that you were in danger.

"You can't leave me," he said. "I love you, y/n. I'll do anything to be with you."

You managed to push past Joe and run out of the building. You didn't stop until you were safely back in your apartment, with the door locked and the curtains drawn.

But Joe wasn't done with you yet. He continued to follow you, sending you gifts and letters professing his love. You were terrified, but you didn't know what to do. You couldn't go to the police, because you didn't have any proof that Joe was dangerous. And you couldn't confront him, because you were afraid of what he might do.

Finally, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You did some digging and found out about Joe's dark past, his history of stalking and violence. You knew that you had to get away from him before it was too late.

You packed your bags and left the city, hoping that Joe wouldn't be able to find you. But as you drove away, you couldn't shake the feeling that he was still watching you, still following you. You knew that you would never be able to truly escape the danger that Joe posed.

[sarahskywalker-amidala]

Hey gossip girl community, sorry I’m late I just got into it but WHERE ARE THE DAN HUMPHREY FICS HELLO???

[nesshartwipe]

Tranquility - Rhys Montrose

Summary: Rhys is a one clingy lovestruck motherfucker <fluff> Submissive and breedable

Warnings: Slight Sexual themes + Spoiler free

This will be a short, sorry but I need to feed y’all something!!

I love this gif he looks so bby girl and funny 😭 <3

“I’m home,” I yell out as I take off my shoes. “Oh, there you are” Rhys appears out of the hallway wearing a white button-down. Rhys pulls me in a tight hug which I accept with open arms. “Hello darling,” He mumbles into my neck. We stay like that for a few long seconds. I close my eyes, burning this moment into my brain. I can feel Rhys inhale my scent hugging me tighter. I let go and earned a groan from Rhys.

“Are you alright? My love” I caress his face searching his blue eyes. He leans into my hand not answering me for a few seconds. “I feel better when you’re here” Rhys kisses my hand and embraces me again. I decided not to push since I assume he had a bad day at work. I’ll let go when he lets go.

After a minute, he leads me to the kitchen, holding my waist. “I brought your favorite” Rhys opens the fridge containing a half-eaten cheesecake. Still holding on to me, he sets it down on the table. “I have been craving this for some time, thank you,” I say excitedly, giving a peck on his cheek. I eagerly sit down, grabbing the cold fork already placed by the desert. Rhys scoots our chairs closer, now rubbing my thigh as he watches me eat the delicious cake. Rhys stays quiet, admiring my features, softly smiling.

He was completely immersed in thought while looking at her. How utterly beautiful she seemed to him, like the rays of the sun lighting up a cold, quiet room.

Rhys gently traces my face. “I’m so lucky to have you.” I can feel myself blush. Rhys always compliments me at the most random times, still sweeping me off my feet. I take one more bite before turning my full attention to Rhys. Intertwining our hands. “I love you, Rhys” I whisper. “I love you too.”

Now it’s my turn to make him blush. I give him a gentle kiss and quickly get up. “Come back here,” Rhys groans, reaching for my wrist, but I swiftly get out of his grasp. I lean against the counter folding my arms, grinning. Rhys rolls his eyes. “What are you doing?” He mumbled, indicating he was getting annoyed. “Nothing, just waiting how long you can go without touching me” I bit my lip, trying to hide my smile. “I fucking hate you…fine, we’ll see,” Rhys murmured, already getting impatient. “How long can you go without touching me” Rhys mocks me. I chuckle, enjoying his reactions. He scoffs, turning away from me. Rhys hates losing, and he knows I know how much he hates losing. Although this is entertaining I can’t help but feel a little guilty.

I slowly walk up behind him, putting my hands on his shoulders. “What’s wrong?” I mumbled into his ear. Rhys lets out a sigh leaning into my touch. I gently kiss his neck, earning a quiet moan. Rhys starts getting up, but I quickly push him back onto the chair. He looks surprised but is turned on at the same time. “Never took you as a top,” Rhys says lowly. “Shut up” I cradle his lap and place my hands on his chest as he hugs my waist with one hand while the other squeezes my thigh. I lean closer studying his face, filled with desire and slightly flushed from my bold actions.

“Please…” Rhys began. His eyes admired my lips. My lips hovered over his. “Please, what?” I faintly say. “Please kiss me,” Rhys whispered, flickering his eyes back to my eyes. “Good boy.” I lean closer, kissing him slowly. Rhys kissed me back harder, the sound of our faint breaths filling the quiet kitchen. I thrust my tongue into his mouth, and Rhys whined in surprise. He pulled me closer, and I grabbed his face for support. The kiss soon becomes sloppy. Rhys cold hand rubs circles on my lower back. I moan, causing him to grin. “Now, who's the one making moves” He whispers. “Shut up, or I’ll get off,” I warn, glaring at him. “Yes, mam” Rhys goes back to kissing me.

Notes:

Was definitely listening to my dilf playlist while writing this lmao

Also posting on A03 with same title

name: nessashartwipe

Already wrote chapter one for my enemies to lovers with Rhys (will be released next week!!)

[rhaenella]

You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Part 22

Part 21 | Masterlist

Summary: What happens when reader assassin is tasked with killing the possible future mayor of London; Rhys Montrose. Politician by day, Eat the Rich Killer by night. But he isn’t the only person wearing different masks. 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence, murder, immoral sociopathic behaviour, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse and neglect, smut

Word count: 4.7k

A/N: another Rhys pov! (to make up for the long hiatus lolol) Enjoy <3

Song: And so It Begins – Klergy 

“The disappearance of Tom Lockwood, sir.”

Bloody hell.

Even in death, the bastard managed to find a way to disrupt Rhys’ life and well-crafted plans one way or another. 

He felt a surge of adrenaline, but whereas most other people would succumb to the nerves, start sweating and rambling, make mistakes. Rhys didn’t. Instead, it only sharpened his focus, making him that much more dangerous. 

The reporter had used the word disappearance, meaning Lockwood’s body hadn’t been found, meaning there was no physical evidence that could potentially link him to the crime, which ultimately meant that he was in the clear. At least for now. If he played it right, perhaps Rhys could even turn this little hiccup into a story that would reflect him positively in the press.

The mob of journalists and cameramen were waiting with baited breath for him to comment, silence befalling the crowd once more. The only sounds that could be heard were that of the bustling city around them—the honking of a double-decker bus, London’s never-ending construction noises, and the screeching of a police siren a mere two blocks away. 

Rhys allowed a mixture of emotions to pass over his features. Initial shock—which hadn’t involved much acting—followed by a hint of grieving sadness, before he settled on a more calm, compassionate look. Because, like any good psychopath who studied the intricacies of human emotion, Rhys knew that that’s what the public needed to see in a leading figure. Someone who showed the appropriate level of feelings and compassion, but ultimately was able to offer reassurance and take action if need be. 

“Mr. Lockwood…” Rhys shook his head, unfolding his clasped hands to convey a subliminal message of openness and sympathy. “I must say that I am deeply shocked by this news. Is there any more information regarding his disappearance?”

“News surfaced after an anonymous tip was made to The London Dispatch, a spokesperson for the T.R. Lockwood Corporation has just released a statement that they are and have been aware of the circumstances and are working on an internal investigation, the Met Police have also just reported they are launching their own investigation,” the same reporter summarised, reading off of his phone. “Any thoughts on what could have happened, Mr. Montrose?”

Any thoughts… Oh, he had plenty, alright. 

An anonymous tip. To The London Dispatch. That could only be from one man: Jonathan. 

Did he seriously have the balls to go to the press, knowing full well that Lockwood’s disappearance could be traced back to him? Rhys hadn’t thought he would raise the alarm after revealing that detail to him, but it seemed Jonathan was keen to call his bluff.

On the upside, Lockwood’s employees had tried to keep the whole thing under wraps, just like you and Rhys had predicted. But now that it had come out, the peace and quiet would come to an end, especially with the police’s involvement as well.

“I could not say at this time, I’m afraid,” Rhys stated, schooling his actual thoughts. “I think, as of now, the best course of action is to allow all parties involved to conduct their investigations without adding unnecessary speculation that could potentially hinder their job.”

That prompted an immediate response from the crowd.

“You don’t think Lockwood’s partners should’ve been upfront about their CEO going missing?”

“Lockwood was last spotted in Prague–”

“Hasn't his staff already been hindering the police?”

“–over two weeks ago, what are the chances that–”

“Considering these suspicious circumstances–”

“–could this be another murder?”

“I understand,” Rhys interrupted, raising his hands in an attempt to quiet the masses. “I understand the demand for answers. I do. But we have to let them do their jobs. The Met Police will get to the bottom of this and find Mr. Lockwood, I have every faith.”

Lukas stepped up to the press then, drawing their attention with a wave of his hand. “That will be all for today, everyone. Please, step aside to let Mr. Montrose pass.”

They did so begrudgingly, some ignoring his campaign manager as they kept shouting questions left and right. Rhys walked past them, thanking them for their time. His head of security met him halfway, guiding him the last couple of metres to the car.

“Where’s Y/N?” Rhys asked.

“She’s waiting in the car, sir,” Reggie answered.

“Mr. Montrose!”

“One final question, please!”

Rhys easily picked up on the thinly veiled exasperation in Lukas’ voice as he tried to reason with The Telegraph. “No can do, sir. Mr. Montrose is already late for his next commitment. If you have any follow-up questions, please feel free to send them to our office.”

But the seasoned reporter wouldn’t just let it go, following Rhys all the way to the kerb.

“Mr. Montrose! What about his family?”

Reggie had already opened the passenger door, but Rhys paused, turning back around. He had to give it to the guy, no politician in their right mind could ignore that type of question.

He wetted his lips, a mournful smile flickering across his face. “Ofcourse, I give my deepest sympathies to Mr. Lockwood’s family during these uncertain times. I hope he will soon return in good health, and be reunited with his loved ones.”

Rhys dipped his head, pouring all the sympathy he did not actually feel into a final smile before he slid into the back of the car, where he was greeted by you, sending him an amused but troubled look. 

Reggie shut the door as Rhys leaned forward to speak to the driver. “Take us back to Primrose.”

“Yes, sir,” the driver nodded. “We might hit some traffic, though. There’s been an accident on Holborn and City Road.”

“That’s alright. Nothing we can do about it. Get us there as quickly as you’re able.”

“Straight away, sir.”

Rhys raised the soundproof, glass divider between the front and back of the car, giving you the privacy to talk about all that had just transpired without the driver being able to eavesdrop. 

You turned to face each other as the car pulled into the stream of ongoing traffic.

“So. Deepest sympathies, huh?”

“Why yes, ofcourse, darling,” he grinned.

You snorted. “Liar.”

He was about to retort when his phone started ringing. Rhys checked the caller ID, and sighed. “Excuse me, this won’t take long,” he said, accepting the call. 

“I don’t want to hear a word about Cynthia, Luke,” Rhys announced, wanting to move past his indisputable error in judgement quickly. “Go back to the office, coordinate from there. We need to get an official written statement out ASAP, one that is based on all the facts known at present.”

“Agreed, sir. I’ll fetch Brian to–”

“No. No, have Sam write it, she’ll need the experience. Just make sure to double check it before you post it online.”

“You don’t want to read it yourself? Are you not coming to the office?”

“No, I’ll meet you there later. There’s another pressing matter that requires my attention first. I trust you to handle the situation while I’m out.”

“Yes, Mr. Montrose.”

Rhys ended the call and pocketed his phone before resting his head against the headrest. What a day this was turning out to be. And it wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot. 

He must have involuntarily let out another sigh, for he felt the softness of your touch, your slender fingers wrapping around his hand. 

“How is that patience of yours doing?”

“I won’t lie, it’s hanging by a thread.”

“Figures,” you smiled, squeezing his hand.

Your smile was quickly overshadowed by that same troubling look from before, one which you didn’t have to hide anymore.

“That anonymous tip… it must be–”

“Jonathan? Yes, I think so, too,” Rhys finished. “Unless you called The London Dispatch and failed to inform me of a new tactical move.”

You shook your head no as the car slowed to a stop, now officially stuck in the busy rerouted traffic. “Nope, it definitely wasn’t me,” you said, looking out the window to catch a glimpse of St. Paul’s looming presence.

It was a cloudy day, ten a penny for London, even during the summer time. The storm front may have passed, but the uncertainty of what was coming still lingered in the air.

“Whilst you were giving your statement to the press, I kept thinking, why?” You looked back to Rhys. “Why would Jonathan do this now? He knows that we put the account that was used to bribe the pilots in his name. That was supposed to keep him quiet, at least for a little while longer. So, what’s his angle?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, the same question dominating his thoughts. “Jonathan’s calculated. But also rash, and unpredictable, as today has clearly demonstrated… We need to act quickly before he goes from being a liability to a full-blown threat.”

You chewed your lip. “You know who else can become a threat?”

His eyes flickered between yours, trying to find an answer there as he mentally went down the long list of possible enemies he made along the way. The ones that were still able to draw breath, that is. 

Only one name came to mind.

“Marcus Atkinson.”

The man who conspired with Lockwood to have Rhys removed from the upcoming elections, by categorically trying to erase him from the face of the earth. 

“Atkinson,” you agreed. “So far, he’s been quiet, but there’s no telling what he’ll do now that the news of Lockwood’s disappearance has been made public.”

Rhys hummed, affirmative. “You’re right. We need to prepare for every possibility.”

“Is that why we’re going home?”

“No,” he said, a little reluctant. 

You frowned, not following. “Then why did you tell the driver to take us back to Primrose Hill?”

He sighed. “Because you’re going home, whilst I go and pay dear old Jonathan a visit.”

You paused, slowly letting go of his hand as the meaning of his words landed.

“You’re what?”

“You heard me.”

Rhys set his jaw, his decision already made and final, but that didn’t stop you from glaring at him.

“And you’re sidelining me because…?”

He looked away, something flicking over his expression. “It’s the only way I know how to keep you safe.”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed. “What about me and what I do for a living gives you the impression that you need to keep me safe?”

Rhys winced. He’d anticipated this reaction from you. But there was no way in hell he would allow you and Jonathan in the same room ever again. It wasn’t that he didn’t think you could fend for yourself, because, as more than one occasion had attested, you certainly knew how to throw a punch or two. And make it hurt. He himself was privy to the knowledge. 

However, he didn’t trust Jonathan and what he would do… Especially now. Besides, as far as Rhys could tell, Jonathan still didn’t know anything about your true identity. And he’d very much liked to keep it that way. 

“He’s a psychopath, Y/N,” Rhys stressed. 

“Right,” you drawled. “Do you want me to look up the exact definition? Because I’m pretty sure it would also include present company.”

He smiled, bitter. “I’m not planning on hurting you. Jonathan might. You know the things he was mixed up in across the pond. If he figures out how important you are to me…”

His forehead creased with genuine concern, and even in your anger, your eyes softened a little at the admission.

“I know you can take care of yourself,” he amended. “But that doesn’t take away from the fact that I want to keep you as far away from him as I possibly can.”

You nodded thoughtfully, still far from happy with his decision. But Rhys wasn’t going to change his mind, and you knew it as well.

Once again, the sound of a phone pinging interrupted your conversation. Privately, Rhys hoped it would put an end to it as well, although you quickly relieved him of that illusion. “We’re not done talking about this.”

“A man can hope,” he muttered.

You shot him a warning look as you retrieved your phone, effectively making him shut up.

He looked around, noticing they were still motionless. No. That wasn’t right. They had moved about three car lengths in the last five minutes. Progress, he thought, clocking his inner voice’s sarcasm with a wry smile. At least the extended travel time would give him a little more time to prepare for his surprise attack on Jonathan. Although, that twat was likely already waiting for Rhys to show up after the shit he pulled earlier today… 

Rhys gritted his teeth as he thought of Jonathan. How he must have watched the press interview live on tele, probably thinking he’d won this game… Well, Rhys would make damn sure that his victory would be short lived. 

A startled noise came from your side of the car, and his eyes shot back to you, jerking him from those thoughts. 

Your wide eyes were scanning whatever message had appeared on your phone’s screen, four times over, as if making sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you. A wave of worry careened through him as he watched the colour drain from your face.

“Y/N?” he said, alarmed.

“Oh my god…”

Frantically tapping the screen, you brought the phone closer to your face. “Oh my god.”

Before Rhys even got a chance to ask what the hell was going on, you’d already pressed the device to your ear, fingers now tapping restlessly against the car’s interior door.

“Y/N,” he said, firmer this time, clasping your hand in his. You looked at him, panicked, uncertain… terrified. Rhys felt his own stomach drop. “What happened?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out.

The call went straight to voicemail, and you groaned in frustration. “Damnit, she’s not answering her phone.”

“Is it Zoe? Sadie?” Rhys tried, concern slipping into his voice. 

He softly squeezed your hand to garner your attention. It worked. You refocused on him, visibly swallowing a tang of adrenaline before shoving your phone into his hands. Rhys read the ID: Zoe. He was right—there were only so many people that could pull this type of reaction from you. He could probably count them on one hand.

His eyes slid down to read the most recent incoming texts, and he sucked in a breath, immediately understanding your nervousness.

>>> mum’s back

>>> please come

Your mother… 

Alarm bells went off inside of him, his concern slowly getting replaced by something sharper, harder. 

You’d both known the day would come, yet the words on the screen still shocked him to silence, the only thing he could muster a feeble, “Fuck…”

“Yeah…”

Rhys closed his eyes. Another person who had completely disappeared—albeit not by your doing—resurfacing. It had been quite the mystery as to what had happened to her, and you had spent many a night trying to figure out where she could have possibly gone. Without much success. But now she had seemingly returned.

The timing could also not have been better. Apparently Murphy’s Law always lurked around the corner somewhere.

“Where did she come from all of a sudden?”

“From hell, likely.”

He huffed a strained laugh. That was certainly one possibility. Rhys met your gaze, then. The initial shock had lifted, and now the fire he’d grown to love glowed bright in your eyes.

“I’ll kill her,” you whispered, unyielding. “I swear to god, if she’s hurt them… I will kill her.”

You snatched your phone from his hands, your thumbs flying over the keyboard as you typed out a series of messages in quick succession.

“Hey,” Rhys said, pitching his voice into a soothing range. “They’re gonna be okay. Just like their big sister, they can fend for themselves.”

“I know they can,” you said, still holding your phone in an iron grip. “But after what happened last time, I can’t help but worry.”

He couldn’t stop himself. “I know the feeling...”

You dropped your phone, turning to him with a look that made it abundantly clear that now was not the time to test you. 

“Rhys,” you warned.

“Sorry…” he muttered, squeezing your hand again. “How do you wanna tackle this?”

“I’m going over there.”

“Right now?”

“Yes. Right now. I have to make sure they’re okay. Besides, it’s not like I have anything better to do,” you shot back, eyes narrowing.

Rhys pursed his lips. Yep. He deserved that.

You looked outside to find that you were, still, stuck near St. Paul’s. And it didn’t look like that was going to change anytime soon. Sighing, you clasped the door handle, but before you could sprint out, Rhys tugged you back to him.

“Whoa, wait a second,” he said, worry seeping back into his voice. He didn’t want to part like this. “Are you sure you want to do this by yourself? I can help.”

You looked at him evenly. “This can’t wait. And neither can the Jonathan situation.” 

Damnit. 

No, it couldn’t.

“I’ll take care of my mother while you take care of our professor,” you offered, running your thumb over his hand in an attempt to persuade him. However the grim look on your face wasn’t helping.

He held your gaze for a long moment, equally grim, before nodding once. There was no other way. 

“Be careful, and call me when you need me,” Rhys implored, already cursing himself for agreeing to this plan. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” you said, purposeful, determined.

And with that, you were off, shutting the car door with force. 

Rhys watched you go, worry now mixing with guilt. By trying to protect you from one situation, he was now the sole reason you were diving head-first into unknown danger all by yourself.

Although, you would have gone either way. No matter the circumstances. You were just like him in that respect. Once you’d made up your mind, there was nothing anyone could do to dissuade you. Rhys had to let you go. Leaving you the space to deal with problems the way you saw fit. He didn’t like it, but if he wanted to keep you by his side, there was no other choice. 

As far as he was aware, your mother wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. But even so, she’d come pretty close to manslaughter with the Hackney house fire. Rhys also knew for a fact that you hadn’t yet told him about all of the harrowing things you’d endured during your childhood. Some details, yes. But definitely not all. He hadn’t wanted to push you too hard, you would tell him when you were ready. Just like with everything else. 

Rhys shook himself. Dwelling on this wasn’t going to do him much good either. He had his own headache to deal with. After that, he would work to make things right with you.

He pressed a button, lowering the glass divider. “Change of plans. I need you to take me to South Kensington.”

—

An hour later, after trudging through London’s busy traffic, the car parked in front of Kynance Mews. The driver hastened to open his door, and Rhys slid out, glancing left and right. 

“Give me twenty minutes,” he said, adjusting his suit.

“Yes, sir.”

The ride over had given him plenty of time to consider his options, which in the end boiled down to two simple objectives: kill Jonathan, or not. 

As tempting as the first option was, Rhys had to accept that it wasn’t the most prudent one. Now that Lockwood’s disappearance had become a public affair, and the police were conducting their own investigation, there would be a lot of heat bearing down on the case. Sooner or later, the police would find out about the bribe money, and once they’d successfully trace the money and start making connections, ‘Professor Jonathan Moore’ would be the subject of a lot of scrutiny. 

Like with Atkinson, the risk would be too great. If either of those two were killed right now, people would surely start asking questions. Questions Rhys didn’t want to be asked. 

Therefore, with a tinge of annoyance, he opted that the best course of action was to keep the professor alive a little longer. 

However, Jonathan couldn’t continue on like this. He had to be reined in—reminded of who was in control here. Good thing Rhys had one more trick up his sleeve, and now was the time to use it.

He made his way inside the building, taking the stairs two at a time, determination edged in his pace. Once he made it to number ten, he lifted his fist, landing a series of powerful knocks on Jonathan’s front door. He didn’t have to wait long before it swung open. 

Rhys bursted into the flat, the door nearly hitting Jonathan in the face. 

“You’ve been busy, mate.”

Jonathan recovered quickly. “So have you.”

His dark eyes tracked Rhys as he strode around the flat, making sure there were no unwanted third parties present. Once he made sure there wasn’t, he stopped in front of Jonathan, meeting his gaze.

Rhys took a breath and nodded. “Tell me about it. It’s hard work, winning these elections—making sure all possible threats are dealt with accordingly.”

Jonathan looked him up and down, measured. “Is that why you’re here?”

“Among other things... I was starting to miss our fun little chats.”

“I wasn’t,” the professor sneered.

“Oh, pray tell,” Rhys said, light.

Jonathan appeared calm, but the tightness around his eyes told Rhys all he needed to know. A single, disdainful head-tilt cinched it.

So, this would be fun.

“You’re a cold-blooded psycho.” 

His mouth twitched. “Ah, one that needs to be taken down? Is that why you tipped the press?” 

“I’m done with your bullshit and your fucking mindgames,” he hissed. “And I’m not going down for your sins whilst you become mayor of this godforsaken town.”

“And yet here you are,” Rhys snickered, waving a hand at him. “Digging your own grave. Or did you forget that Joe Goldberg helped cover-up Lockwood’s murder?”

“I’ll tell them the truth about you,” Jonathan promised. “You’re not getting away with this.”

“And who do you think they’ll believe?” Rhys returned, tilting his head, a challenge. “A suspected murderer who faked his own death, or the man that’s working tirelessly to strengthen their police force—making sure their kids will have access to a higher education, someone who’s battling corruption and fighting for what’s right. You tell me.”

Jonathan shook his head. “No… No, you will go down for your crimes.”

Rhys couldn’t help but laugh. “And what crimes are those? Do you have any proof? Or will this be another case of your word against mine?” he taunted, stepping up to the fuming American.

Jonathan stood rigid, frowning in contemplation. He took a moment to mull over whatever thoughts held him before he looked at Rhys askance. 

“There has to be proof. People always seem to mysteriously disappear or die around you. Like last night.”

Rhys remained entirely unfazed. “That Fernsby bloke, you mean? Well, if you’d listened to the news, you would know he died of natural causes. Very unfortunate but it happens,” he said, inscrutable, picking a piece of lint off of his suit. “Besides, I have an alibi.”

“Of course you do,” Jonathan mumbled, more to himself. “Your girlfriend?”

Anger simmered under Rhys’ cool facade at the mention. But he couldn’t let Jonathan see it. 

“She serves many purposes,” he smirked, lewd.

Jonathan’s face twisted in disgust. “You’re using her.”

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It’s all she’s good for anyway. A pretty face for the cameras, and an excellent shag at night.”

Jonathan looked away, uncomfortable despite his own nature. He took a beat, his eyes locked in an endless stare, seeing seemingly nothing. Then he blinked, once, and looked up to Rhys again. 

Something in his eyes had changed. Like he’d made up his mind about something. Rhys couldn’t tell what it was, but it didn’t sit well with him, at all. That much was clear.

His smile faded, it was time to get down to business.

“Alright,” he exclaimed, delightfully startling Jonathan in the process. “Enough chit-chat. I think it’s about time I remind you of a few things…”

Jonathan stiffened, but didn’t respond. Rhys sauntered over to the window, the one providing a perfect view into the flat of one Miss Kate Galvin. The flat was dark, and it didn’t look like anyone was home.

“Do you know where she is?” Rhys asked, peering through the window.

He didn’t need to specify who he was referring to. Not to a seasoned stalker like him.

“At work,” Jonathan said, clipped. 

Rhys glanced back over his shoulder, clocking Jonathan still standing in the exact same spot, shooting daggers at his back. Rhys’ lips curled. 

“Remember this feeling, Jonathan,” he said as he zeroed in on the fireplace, bending to pick up the fire iron. “Remember how it feels to know where she is. To know she’s safe…”

He twisted the metal object leisurely, feeling the weight of it in his palms. “But above all, remember how I can take all of that away, in the blink of an eye.”

If possible, Jonathan stiffened even more, nails digging into his palms as he clenched his fists. 

Rhys’ eyes sparked with amusement. Jonathan hadn’t wanted to play any more of his ‘mindgames’, but unfortunately for the professor, he was only just getting started.

“Now, we wouldn’t want her to meet the same fate as her father, would we?” Rhys mused, using the metal tool to prod at some charcoal remains. “Because speaking of unfortunate things, I’d say that would definitely qualify as such.”

Jonathan glared at him, not even attempting to cover the hatred he felt for the man daring to enter his home like he owned the place—and threaten him, his girlfriend, and everything he had tried to rebuild for himself. 

“Stay away from her,” he said, voice as cold as ice.

“Come now, Jonathan. There’s no need to get snippy,” Rhys tutted, eyes flicking to him. “You and I both know that whatever happens to her, it’s entirely up to you.”

The sound of metal scraping against the fireplace's stone surface caught Jonathan’s attention, his eyes flying to where Rhys was still playing around with the rod. He relished the look on Jonathan’s face, a sweet mixture of trepidation and rage. It meant he was listening carefully. 

“Fun fact about fire,” Rhys went on, off-kilter. “Which, correct me if I’m wrong, I believe you may be familiar with,” he added jokingly, stabbing at a larger fragment of unburned wood. 

“Nothing ever truly vanishes. There’s always something that remains. And what’s so amusing about this fact is that you never know which pieces are left behind… or when they might resurface.”

This was it. The last card Rhys could play to keep Jonathan silent—short from killing him, ofcourse. 

To threaten him to complete the framejob by planting Lockwood’s other hand that you and Rhys had kept as a backup, and call in the cavalry. Physical evidence tying Jonathan to the crime, in combination with the paper trail already set up in his name, would ensure Jonathan’s arrest and indictment. And he knew it.

Jonathan swallowed. “Lockwood?”

Rhys walked up to him, eyeing him steadily. “You better stick to our first agreement, and keep quiet,” he warned, tapping the fire iron against Jonathan’s chest. “Otherwise, I’ll make sure you’re going down for all of it.”

Defeat flashed over Jonathan’s face. He was still angry, no, livid would be the better term… But the growing apprehension and doubt was unmistakable.

Satisfied that his message was received loud and clear, Rhys dropped the metal rod to the floor. The loud clang of the object hitting the wooden floor caused Jonathan to flinch back, much to Rhys’ pleasure.

He turned his back on the American, gleefully making his way towards the front door where he paused, resting one hand on the handle, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“It’s all about who holds the power, mate,” Rhys smirked, looking back to Jonathan, whose jaw was clenched tight. “And at present, that isn’t you.”

–––– 

A/N: FINALLY a Joe and Rhys meet… I know it’s been a long time coming 🙈 I had a lot of fun writing this particular scene, I hope you enjoyed it as well. Now let’s see if Jonathan will heed Rhys’ warning or… not. hehe

––

Tags: @artaxerxesthegreat

[fictitiousmagines]

You've already got me wrapped around your finger pt 5

The only way to deliver the journal, was in person. Bright and early, with a coffee in tow. Her favorite, black with milk and cinnamon. The journal was carefully wrapped in a maroon and gold, with a nice pen tucked into the boy. The journal itself was a nice one. Far better than any Mooney's has to offer. Sturdy green cover and nice thick pages, read for her beautiful thoughts.

In particular, id hope you'd fill it up with thought's of me, Y/N.

His knock was a confident one, as he stood up straighter on the porch.

The door opened a crack and her warm face was partially revealed.

"Joe," she breathed.

He leaned into the door frame a bit and lifted up his arms. "Came bearing gifts," he smiled.

Something's off. Something's not right. Her tireless warth has been replaced by hesitance. What're you hiding, my love?

"Joe, thank you," she breathed shakily before gently opening the door wider and slipping out. The door softly clicked behind her.

She hung her head in shame momentarily before looking up. Her hair fell away from her face to reveal more bruising. Deeper bruising.

Joe immediately lead her to the wicker chair on the porch before kneeling down and grabbing her hands.

"what happened?" He said as he placed the coffee in her hands.

"I think it's time to put Dad in a home. I can't handle all on my own," she sniffled. "He kept asking for my mom. And he got confused and angry and he shoved me and I-i fell. But he-he doesn't mean it when he lashes out."

Her lip quivered before she hastily took a sip of coffee. Joe hasn't taken his eyes off her. Behind his calm demeanor, rage and concern were under the surface.

She placed the coffee on the arm of the wicker chair and sighed deeply.

"Hey," he said as he gently took her face into his hands. "I think you're doing the right thing. If he's more than you can handle, it's probably best to put him in a place where there is staff that is equipt. You are one person, Y/N."

"You don't think I'm selfish?"

You are living proof that good people exist. I love that you are so kind and genuine. But I want to protect you from anyone that's a threat to your beautiful heart. I would protect you from anyone. Anyone. Even from your dad. Even from yourself.

Joe just shook his head.

"Thanks for the coffee by the way," she smiled.

"There's one more though," he beamed before setting the wrapped gift on her lap.

Her eyes widened and she gingerly plucked the pen up before unwrapping the journal. She breathed in sharply, in surprise. Her eyes softened.

"Joe, thank you."

She suddenly leaned forward and met Joe with a kiss. Soft at first, but she was soon running her fingers through his curls. Her tongue ran across his bottom lip in slow agony before being met with his. His hand found the side of her face and ran his. thumb gently across her jaw. He broke away before placing another soft kiss on her wanting lips.,

"You're always coming to the rescue," she said breathlessly.

Because I wanna rescue you, Y/N. That's what I'm gonna do, I'm gonna save you.

[thekimspoblog]

Don't let the veneer of an LA hippy chick fool you. At her core Love Quinn was a misogynistic, victim-blaming pos who made her own bed when she decided to marry Joe.

She was tragic, but she was sick. Relatable, but a villain in her own story. She was perfect.

[imaslutforwritingshit]

Okay the smut stories I want to make soon!

Movie/Show Category:

•Avatar- Neteyam and Jake Sully

•Gilmore Girls- JESS CAN EAT ME UP 😫

• Twilight- Edward, Maybe Jacob. Maybe both 😏

• Stranger things- Billy, Vecna (Human form duh)

• Buffalo 66’- Might do Billy Brown tbh

Book Series Category:

• Shatter Me- Aaron Warner and Kenji

• Heroes of Olympus- Percy, Leo, Maybe BL story w Nico

• Hunger Games- FINNICKKK AND MAYBE PEETA

•ACOTAR- Rhysand

Murders/Serial Killer Category…I don’t support murder, to be clear.

•Heathers- JASON DEAN 1988 version can destruct me with his teeth

• Scream- Stu, Billy, and especially Ethan, and maybe Amber she was hot

•You- Joe Goldberg

• AHS- Tate Langdon❤️

Crazy People Category:

• American Psycho- Patrick Bateman

• The Dark Knight- Joker

• Birds of Prey- Harley Quinn

•Girl Interrupted- Lisa

Give me recommendations everyone please and thank you🙏🙏🙏

[10-epic-loser-01]

I decided to take matters into my own hands and write a Joe Goldberg x reader story that takes place during season 4. 

Here is the description and I hope you all think it is okay (and that this is not weird. I apologize if so)

Description -

(Professor! Joe Goldberg x Student! reader)

When you moved to London, to attend Darcy college, to help pursue your dream of becoming an author, you had your own beliefs on how it would go. You believed it would be an incredible experience, being away from home, and dreamt of how it would help be that push in life that you needed.

Suffice it to say you believed it would be life-changing, something you would look back on fondly.

However, that all changed eventually.

When you get roped into the death of one of your fellow peers your life becomes anything but normal. As you begin to face rumors, the trauma of discovering a dead body, your academics, AND begin to receive strange cryptic messages from an unknown number, you feel like you are left on your own.

Little did you know, you weren't, and you would receive help from the most unlikely place...

That being, the help of your literature professor, Johnathan Moore.

(Takes place in season 4 of the Netflix show You, does deviate from the canon plot, however.)

Here is a cover I also drew myself. Let me know your guys’ thoughts on it. any feedback always helps! 

[sorryfucker]

it's comments like these that keep aroace fanfic writers going lmao

[ventafaxine]

ps: Them Changes chapter 7 is out...

Joe could have been obsessed with Guinevere Beck. Instead, the universe introduced him to Rhys Montrose...

Chapter 1

When Guinevere Beck entered his bookstore, Joe Goldberg felt his heart fill with a terrifying sense of nostalgia. The young woman did not only push the door of his store but also triggered the alarm in the backdoor of his subconscious. A fragile part of his mind where memories of an unstable mother, threatening father figures, and unfaithful lovers had never been processed. The first encounter of what could have been a passionate love story in another universe came at the wrong time in theirs. And before he knew it, Joe was going back to his bad behaviors. [Well, hello there. Who are you? Based on your vibe, a…]

“Sorry to disturb you but do you, by any chance, have a section dedicated to memoirs?”

Brought back to reality, Joe blinked several times. [Was I really…stalking that woman?] Disturbed by his wrongdoing, the bookseller pulled himself together to focus on his interrupting client, a cheerful blond man with piercing blue eyes. Wearing a fake smile, Joe broke him down. [According to his accent and high spirits, I owe my non-descent into hell to a British man. And not any kind: a wealthy British man, judging by his taste for books. I mean, who reads biographies?]

“Of course. Follow me.”

Unsurprisingly, the section in question was unoccupied. [I have my answer: nobody reads biographies.] In ten years, Joe had only put a foot in this area twice. The year Becoming had been released, Ethan had dedicated a table to Michelle Obama at the store entrance. The remaining copies had been placed on the infamous “celebrity authors” bookshelf.

“There it is.”

Presenting the small collection of books, Joe took the opportunity to check between the shelves, unconsciously searching for any sign of the mysterious woman. [She’s probably a student. Which author could she be reading? Faulkner? Stephen King? Paula F…]

“Thank you very much.”

The accent of his interlocutor tickled his curiosity, distracting Joe from his growing obsession.

“British?”

“What’s that?”

“Your…accent.”

The man laughed a little. [Definitely too joyous to be American.]

“Yes. I come from London. I’m here with a few friends for the holidays.”

London. As a man of letters, Joe had always wanted to take a trip in the Big Smoke. Explore the archive room of the British Library, visit the Charles Dickens Museum, watch The Winter’s Tale at the Shakespeare’s Globe. If he was complexly honest with himself — which he was not, most of the time — the bookworm would have acknowledged that his interest in the capital went back to his childhood, fueled by his mother’s broken promises when hope was all they had left. “One day, I’ll take you to the London Eye, Joseph. We’ll eat fish and chips near the Thames!”. His inner child wanted to know more about the British client while the persistent feeling of nostalgia wondered where the previous woman had gone, urging him to end this conversation to find out.

“I hope you’ll have a nice stay then.”

“Thanks, that’s very kind of you. Say, do you have any book recommendations?”

[Not a biography.] His senses still focused on searching for the girl whom he lost track, Joe — who was at least trying to be a bookstore manager attentive to the needs of his customers — asked absently:

“What are you interested in?”

“Among other things, absent-minded bookseller.”

Continue reading