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fioiswriting · 7 months ago

Text

Muña | one shot

Summary : Marrying your bastard nephew to mend fences between your families wasn't exactly what you had planned. But when you realise that Jace has grown into a strong and handsome man, you might be ready to rethink your plans.

Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x Aunt!Reader (Reader is Alicent and Visery’s daughter. She’s one year younger than Aegon)

TW : p in v sex, mommy kink, sub!Jace (kinda), Dom!Reader (but they both switch tbh), inappropriate use of the word muña, oral (f receiving), afab reader, incest, unprotected sex, not proofread

Words count : 8064

AN : hi everyone!! I’ve been very busy lately so I haven't had time to update BUT I’ve been working a bit on various fics. Sorry to all my Aemond girlies but today it’s time for some Jace x reader. It’s a fic I’ve written for my gf who’s turning into a Jace girlie 🤭 It's full of indecency and inappropriate things.

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

The gardens had become your refuge over the past few days. Under the shade of the trees, on the soft grass, you had found a peaceful haven away from the excitement caused by the arrival of your half-sister and her herd of bastards. The Red Keep made you feel suffocated. And seeing your mother pacing back and forth, running left and right, didn't help. You had to calm her down. You had to keep an eye on your older brother, making sure he didn't slip away into the maze of Flea Bottom for the umpteenth time. You had to hold your family together, and you were tired.

You almost envied Daeron, in Old Town, away from the hustle and bustle of the court.

At least no one would think of looking for you where you were now. And you could enjoy a moment's respite, poring over the thick book you had borrowed from Aemond's library. Had he known that you had entered his room without warning, had he known that you had dared to disturb the perfect tidiness of his precious bookshelves, he would probably have threatened to feed you to Vhagar. But what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Besides, you could perhaps find a way to pay him back later.

For now, you just needed to be left alone.

You stretched out, arms reaching for the sky. The sun's rays crept through the leaves, their warmth leaving a pleasant sensation on your face. Summer was back and you were delighted. The gentle breeze that ruffled the corners of your book and occasionally lifted the silver curls around your face gave you a sense of freedom. You deftly kicked off your shoes and lay back for a moment, your eyes closed.

Footsteps echoed on the cobbled floor, and you sighed in annoyance. You didn't have to open your eyes to see who it was. You recognised his footsteps. So, you kept your eyes closed. With any luck, he would continue his way and leave you alone to find someone else to annoy.

"Hey, my favourite little sister," Aegon exclaimed as he landed heavily beside you, his body brushing against yours. You opened one eye to acknowledge him, then closed it again, your arms crossed behind your head. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?" he insisted when he saw you weren't answering him. "You know, make sure I don't run off or end up drunk somewhere…Stuff like that. Which our mother probably asked you to do."

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. It was true that Aegon was terribly annoying. But of all your siblings, Aegon was still your favourite.

You resigned yourself to rolling onto your stomach, your chin resting on your hands and your head tilted sideways to face him. "My dear brother," you replied sarcastically. "Unable to occupy yourself, as usual." He rolled his eyes before reaching out to remove a leaf that had gotten caught in your hair. He subtly ran his fingers through one of your curls, his touch as light as a feather. "And why have you decided to come and disturb my moment of peace, tell me?"

He blew the leaf away and you watched as it flew away on the breeze. Your big brother's eyes shone with mischief. "Why would I need a specific reason to spend time with my favourite sister?" he added, and it was your turn to roll your eyes. He moved to lie next to you, his body practically pressed against yours.

If you moved a few centimetres, your elbows would touch his.

You'd always been inseparable, and the habit had stuck over time, even when the teenage years had driven you apart. But in those moments, you were like two children again, ready to run away from Septa lessons to get into mischief in the castle.

“Because you always have a reason for everything,” you replied, and he looked at you with a fake hurt look that was greatly exaggerated. With Aegon it was easy. It had always been easy. He wasn't as serious as Aemond, he wasn't as strange as Helena, and he wasn't as far away as Daeron.

"I just wanted to make sure my little sister was all ready to meet her betrothed tonight." He paused. "And also, that she hadn't suddenly decided to become a pious woman and follow the path of the Seven." His voice lowered. You poked him in the ribs. "See? I'm a caring big brother. I care about you."

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied. He laughed. Then he rolled onto his back, arms crossed behind his head, one leg bent, and he closed his eyes. The golden rays caught in his long lashes made him look like an angel.

Everything he wasn't.

'Well?' He added. “Excited to see Jacaerys Strong?”

You sat cross-legged. The bracelets on your wrists clinkled. Aegon knew how much the idea horrified you. You had no desire to marry Jace, to sacrifice your freedom for your half-sister's bastard eldest son. You had no desire to leave the Red Keep, to follow him to Dragonstone and spend your life bearing him children. It was your mother and Rhaenyra's idea, of course.

The union of the eldest daughter of one and the eldest son of the other, as a way of repairing the rift that has grown between your families over time.

As if you were destined to mend fences, to undo the mistakes of your own parents.

It wasn't that you hated Jace. But he was your older sister's son, a bastard who had pretensions he shouldn't have precisely because he was a bastard. He was the model son, the perfect son, the prodigy son, the one who always did everything right. It irritated you. He irritated you with his brown curls and his awkward posture.

It wasn't fair that your father showered him with praise when he could barely remember your own name.

You stood up, smoothing the folds of your red dress to make yourself more presentable, and you caught your brother's eyes on your body, his eyes riveted on the thin fabric that revealed your delicate shapes. God, you loved to play with that. You knew how to get men wrapped around your finger with your sweet, innocent air, and Aegon was the first victim. You approached him and held out your arm to help him up, which he accepted by pulling himself to his feet heavily. After putting your shoes back on, you bent down to pick up the thick book in your arms. If you lost it, you could be sure that Aemond would be angry with you. And that was a risk you didn't want to take.

"Perhaps you're right, lēkia. I'd better go and make myself more presentable for my betrothed. I wouldn't wish to disgrace our family." And with that you turned back, your hair swirling in the air behind you as Aegon watched you go with a small smile on his face.

You knew how much Aegon hated being ignored, and even more so when it came from his little sister. You knew that he would return with his tail between his legs and a pleading look on his face. Between his constant whining and his dirty jokes, he gave you little respite, but it was a game that had developed between you; a game that, deep down, you enjoyed.

He was so predictable.

“If I had known you liked strong men, I would have dyed my hair,” you heard him shout from behind you. Aegon wasn't the least bit shy. You shook your head, your silver locks bouncing.

"Get lost, you moron," you replied without even turning around.

The meal in honour of your betrothal promised to be exciting.

***

As soon as he saw you, your nephew rose to pull the chair beside him in a gallant gesture, and you found yourself watching him. Really watching him. His long, broad fingers on the back of the chair. His dark locks falling around his face. His precise features; his straight nose and deep eyes and square jaw. You hadn't realised how much your nephew had changed. He'd grown up too, and he was now a good head taller than you.

He had become a strong man, indeed.

But you refused to admit that Jacaerys Strong had become quite pleasant to look at.

"Princess," he said, pushing the chair back for you to sit down. Fingers brushed the skin of your partly bare shoulders. The touch had lasted a fraction of a second, enough to make you wonder if it had been a figment of your imagination.

"Lord Strong," you replied in greeting. If the words hurt him, Jace didn't show it. Always the perfect son. What would it take to push him over the edge? To crack the shell he'd built around himself? To shatter the image of the gentleman?

To your right, Aegon was already seated. He was holding a glass of wine between his fingers while Aemond seemed to be lecturing him about something you couldn't understand. The exchange between you and Jace had obviously not escaped his notice, and the corner of his mouth had already curled into a smirk. You knew what it meant.

His silence was full of implications, louder than any words.

Your mother had lectured him before dinner, warned him to behave because that was what was expected of him, and she was counting on you to make him obey.

But your older brother didn't say anything. He simply raised his glass in your direction, his lips forming a word that you couldn't read. You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed.

You looked at your nephew. He had donned a gambison in the colours of the Velaryons, and you couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation.

After all, a bastard in blue was still a bastard.

"Enjoying King's Landing?" you asked your betrothed, in an attempt to start a conversation. His attention turned to you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“It's quite different from what I remember,” he replied, his voice a little lower than usual, his warm eyes meeting yours. “But of course it all depends on the company you are with."

You hesitated, suddenly unsure.

You hated what the sound of his voice did to you. You hated the way his eyes suddenly made you feel vulnerable.

Fuck.

“It all depends on the company, indeed. And do you find yourself in good company tonight, nephew?" You gave him a defiant look, as if to judge his reaction.

As if to unveil what he held within himself.

“I'm not quite sure. Should I?” He paused, one eyebrow raised. He had taken the bait. “What would yousay?”

His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't the malice you usually found in Aegon's eyes when he wanted to tease you. It wasn't the gleam that animated his mind when he came up with a new plan for you to cover.

"I would say I'm in pretty strong company," you replied as you took your cup, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of your lips that you hid behind the glass.

You were cruel, giving him no respite, you knew. But you admired his composure. He hadn't cracked yet.

You knew men who were less patient.

Jace leaned towards you. A slight tilt of the head, just to make sure you were the only one to hear him. As if he wanted to share a secret with you. “Careful, Aunt,” he began, his voice suddenly quieter than before. It was almost a whisper. “I might begin to think you enjoy my company.”

You know I don't, you wanted to reply, but Jace had already straightened up as if nothing had happened, his head turned away from you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Baela give him a questioning look, and an unfamiliar sensation stirred in the pit of your stomach.

An unpleasant heat.

A hint of irritation.

You were annoyed, and you didn't know why.

“Look how handsome your betrothed has made himself for you,” Aegon sneered as he reached for the decanter and leaned in close to your ear. “A true Velaryon, isn't he?” He huffed.

You wanted to slap him on the thigh, make him swallow his mockery.

“If you think he's so handsome, I can happily leave him to you,” you replied, and Aegon's eyes widened. You saw him take a sip of wine, and something deep inside you told you he probably wasn't opposed to the idea. His usual mischievous smile was hidden behind the wine glass, but there was no mistaking his eyes.

Aegon had that tendency to give himself away, and you could read him like an open book.

The meal proved to be as boring as you had imagined. Small talk exchanged over fake smiles. An illusory moment in which everything seemed to be going well for one evening.

You weren't fooled, and you knew it was all a facade. You knew your family well enough to understand that the slightest spark could set things alight. You knew your brothers well enough to realise that all it would take was a simple glance between them to liven up an evening they found dull.

You just hoped they wouldn't cause too much trouble tonight.

To your left, Jace was still deep in conversation with Baela. They had that kind of complicity that made your blood boil inside; a shared laugh that sounded in your ear like the squeaky music you hated. You frowned. It was you, his betrothed. It was you, not Baela, and you didn't understand why that statement was suddenly so important.

After all, you despised this union. You hated Jace. You had no desire to promise him the rest of your life.

Jace was a bastard, and you deserved better.

So why did the sight of him touching Baela's hand cause a twinge of jealousy in your body?

His fingers brushed over hers absently. A light touch on her knuckles.

And all you felt was fire.

And then. Then, your fingers slipped under the wooden table.

You knew you were playing with fire. And you knew that if anyone paid too much attention to what you were doing, they would see that you weren't exactly behaving like the perfect Princess Targaryen you were supposed to be.

But you didn't care.

You let your fingers wander, running along the outside of Jace's thigh before moving up to settle in the hollow that connected his thigh to his hip. With a faint touch, your fingertips brushed the inside of his thigh, and then lower, tracing small circles through the fabric that was already beginning to tighten.

Jace almost choked.

He spat out the contents of his glass, his dark gaze fixed on you. Everyone had fallen silent, their heads turned towards him. Rhaenyra's eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

And you hadn't removed your hand.

An innocent smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You wondered if Aegon could read you. If he could see that look on your face, so similar to his own. That distinctive feature you shared.

Deciding to play with your prey a little longer, you put on your best fake concerned face, pretending to be worried about his health.

"Are you all right, Jacaerys?" you asked, your voice a little higher than usual as your nails dug into the fabric of his breeches. Not to hurt him, of course. Just enough to wake a certain part of him, just enough to remind him that you were his betrothed.

He cleared his throat and coughed again.

“I swallowed wrong,” he replied.

Your fingers crept a little higher, trying to explore his upper thigh, where you knew your nephew would be sensitive. You didn't want to be rational tonight, you wanted to let the fire take over and consume you.

You wanted to let the sleeping dragon within you awaken.

The taste of the forbidden was divine, and the heat spreading through your lower belly was too delicious to stop now.

"Be careful, mandianna. We're not married yet." you said. We're not married yet and look where I've got my fingers. You kept your thoughts to yourself. "I wouldn't want to find myself a widow already," you replied in High Valyrian, amused, and Jace looked at you with his big brown eyes, somewhere between anger and excitement, embarrassment and curiosity.

Under the table, out of sight, your hand brushed the stretched fabric where you could read the confirmation of what he was feeling, the manifestation of his desire.

He was hard.

Perfect.

It was you who provoked this.

He responded to your touch.

You felt a familiar breath on the back of your neck and realised Aegon was leaning against you again. He was pretending to serve you some of the vegetables that had just been brought in for the starter, taking the opportunity to whisper in your ear as he did so well. "Try to be more discreet, little sister," he chuckled softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper to make sure no one heard you. Discreetly, he nodded to where your hand still rested on your nephew's thigh. He tilted his head. "Rhaenyra is right in front of us. Do you think she can see what you're doing to her son under the table?"

He put on his best disinterested face. As if the words exchanged between you were nothing more than banalities.

As if he weren't commenting on the indecent deeds you were doing under the table, unworthy of a girl of your rank.

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. You didn't want him drawing any more of your family's attention to you, especially when you hadn't finished playing.

Your big brother gave you a knowing wink, as if to promise you that your secret was safe with him.

And you decided to continue entertaining yourself with the new game you'd invented.

You were bold, and you decided that if Jace didn't already know it, he would find out soon enough.

***

It wasn't that Jace was disappointed with his betrothal. You were divine, and the dress you wore made you so regal that he couldn't keep his attention anywhere but on your body, on your cleavage so gracefully offered to his gaze.

It was precisely why he had turned to Baela, why he had tried to distract himself with their conversation, why he had desperately tried to find something else to hold on to.

Because you were making him lose his footing. And that was a feeling he hated.

No, Jace did not regret his betrothal. You were everything a man could want; you were beautiful, you were regal, you were clever, and above all, you were a Targaryen. A princess. The king's daughter.

The only problem was you were distant and elusive.

Jace remembered your pretensions and mockeries from his childhood. He remembered the little brat you were, following in your older brother's footsteps. He remembered a little girl with a strong temper, who knew what she wanted. He remembered the pranks, not just the ones he'd taken part in, like the Pink Dread, but the ones that had turned against him because of you and Aegon, too.

It was clear that the little girl you had once been, taller than him, with long silver curls and an air of self-assurance far too confident for her young age, had grown into a beautiful young woman.

And that was something Jace hadn't considered.

He couldn't concentrate on his conversation with Baela, not when your fingers were digging through the linen of his breeches into the flesh of his thigh, as if to remind him to whom he had been promised.

Your fingers, slender, light, burning against his inner thigh.

He clenched his jaw.

All around him, the words and faces of the guests mingled in a swirl of sound and colour. Fuck.

Fuck.

His breeches were really becoming too tight.

You'd dared to do that. You'd dared to slip your fingers under the table, in front of everyone, and Jace didn't know whether to admire your audacity or wrap his fingers around your wrist and force you to take them off.

Suddenly he felt hot, a familiar warmth spreading between his loins.

He wasn't sure he could get up, not with his member pulsing between his thighs.

Fuck. You weren't supposed to make him feel like this. He wasn't supposed to feel such a desire for you when you weren't officially married.

This dinner was about officially declaring your betrothal, not consummating a union not yet pronounced.

He was trying to calm down. He tried to ground himself back into reality. Perhaps by staring intently at the contents of his plate he could ignore the sensation of your fingers rising dangerously high; the desperate need to finally have your fingers wrapped around his manhood.

His knees slammed into the table in a sudden movement.

Your fingers had just brushed the bulge that had formed between his thighs.

And he needed more, infinitely more.

You couldn't have the cruelty to arouse such lust in him and then leave him like that. He would never forgive you.

"Stop that," he growled in your direction, low enough for no one else to hear.

But you still had that damn innocent smile, that damn audacity to act as if nothing had happened.

"I don't know what you're talking about, mandianna." Nephew. The sound of the High Valyrian rolling off your tongue sent a wave of heat between his legs. Seven hells, you were going to be the death of him.

He wanted more.

He needed more.

More of your fingers around him, more of your tongue against his length, more of that innocent look on your face as you knelt before him, more of your tight cunt.

Jace was on the verge of losing it. You'd made him a slave to his own desire. You had closed your claws around him and he knew there was no turning back now.

“If you play with fire too much, you might get burned, muña," Jace retorted, leaning towards you, and he felt the imperceptible movement of your hand twitching at the threat. Aunt.

Despite his dwindling strength, King Viserys tried to make a speech about family, betrothal, and a whole host of other undoubtedly honourable values, but neither you nor Jace paid any attention. You were caught up in your own game.

Then Jace stood up, forcing you to remove your hand.

You could see he was uncomfortable, for you knew where to look, for you knew what you had done.

You knew he had a painful erection between his thighs, and it was all because of you.

But you could only admire your nephew's composure.

“To my uncles, Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. I have fond memories of our shared childhood.” His glass between his fingers, he raised it in the direction of his uncles, then turned to you. "And to my sweet and beautiful bride-to-be, who I'm sure will never cease to surprise me with her daring and surprising side. May our marriage be filled with joy and satisfaction".

The toasts continued, as did the meal. The servants had brought the rest of the dishes consisting of steaming meat and tasty garnishes. It was almost too joyous, almost too happy to be real. As if there was a threat lurking somewhere in the corner.

But Jace still had to teach you a lesson.

The music started, the sound of instruments filling the room. Jace apologised to Baela and walked over to his aunt. His other aunt. Your sister.

And you felt the anger return; the same inner turmoil as before.

Jace had held out his hand to Helaena and led her to dance a little further away. You immediately exchanged a questioning look with your brother, who had also stared at Jace in disbelief as he had walked away on your little sister's arm.

"So?" Aegon began. "It seems your betrothed didn't appreciate your little game?" You glared at him, but he just scoffed. "If he changes his mind... You know I like it."

You wondered if you could do the same. You wondered if you could ask Aegon to dance and if Jace would feel the same bubbling inside him, the same jealousy coursing through his veins.

You hated that feeling.

You shouldn't feel that kind of emotion, especially not for him.

You obviously didn't see it, too focused on your own annoyance, but Jace kept glancing in your direction, as if to make sure you saw him.

He wanted to make you jealous. He wanted to fuel the feeling he'd identified in you. He wanted to catch you at your own game. And one thing was certain, Jace hadn't played all his cards yet.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

After a moment that seemed an eternity, your betrothed returned to sit beside you, Helena going back to her own seat. You were less and less able to hide your annoyance, and no doubt Jace noticed, for he leaned towards you, a satisfied look on his face. "Your sister is very sweet," he murmured. He knew very well that this simple phrase would be enough to send you over the edge.

You liked attention. You liked compliments. You liked to be praised.

You said nothing back. But Aegon had his trademark grin, the one that stretched his lips when he had a devious plan, and he was already getting up on the pretext of serving Baela some wine so he could whisper in his nephew's ear. "I know my little sister can be particularly demanding.” He paused. “And difficult to tame. So if you ever need any advice... Or demonstrations…"

Jace was fuming, but he knew he had to keep his cool. It was Aegon, typical Aegon, to push his buttons, to succeed in making him suddenly unsure of himself, to make his mind confused. His fingers closed around his cup, his jaw clenched, and it took all his self-control not to throw the contents in his uncle's face.

He didn't even look at Aegon, who had returned to his seat with a triumphant smile.

But you felt something under the table. Something slipped between the folds of your dress, along your skin, discreetly, lightly, a delicious touch against your skin that made you want more.

Your eyes widened.

Jace.

Jace the perfect son. Jace the model son.

Jace slipping his fingers under your dress, touching the skin of your thigh, rising dangerously high where you could already feel the wetness forming in the crease between your thighs.

This was the moment he snapped, you knew it. You hadn't heard your brother's words, you had only seen him lean towards your betrothed, but you knew he must have struck a chord with Jacaerys Velaryon. That he had probably touched his weak spot.

Or perhaps you were just getting your comeuppance. After teasing him, after making him hard and desperate.

Jace moved his hand, tracing the space where your skin was soft and tender, all the way up your thigh, with a slow, gentle touch. His hand moved further towards the centre of you, where you were sensitive, and he brushed against your crotch. He didn't even need to apply any pressure with his fingertips to tell that you were wet.

Your hips automatically moved towards his hand in search of more contact, causing you to wiggle in your chair. All you wanted to do was grab his wrist, force him to slide his fingers under the fabric separating you, force him to touch you right here. But you were still at dinner and the game was becoming far too dangerous.

"I told you to be careful," Jace whispered as he withdrew his fingers and resumed his serious gaze, his fingers fidgeting on the wood of the table. “Two can play at this game.”

And then perhaps the Seven heard you. Perhaps they were offering you a way out. To be honest, you weren't sure if it was a miracle or a curse. For Aemond had risen, and he had done what he did best; he had made a mocking and provocative speech to his nephews.

Everything happened quickly. Jace and Luke leapt to their feet to answer the provocation, Aemond and Aegon were ready to fight back, and even Baela and Rhaena were prepared to defend their family. You had no time to move, no time to react, for dinner was already over, and so was your little game of cat and mouse with Jace.

This was your way out, you knew it. You were tired of sitting around a table listening to boring speeches. And the entertainment that had consisted of sliding your fingers under the table to push Jacaerys Strong over the edge had now turned against you.

"I shall rest," you warned your mother, who was deep in conversation with Rhaenyra, her features wrinkled with worry. "Tonight's events have left me somewhat tired. And I think a night's rest would do me a world of good." She nodded, stroking your hair, and you knew instinctively what she was thinking. Always the perfect daughter.

And as you passed through the heavy door of the dining room, you hurried off in a direction that was not that of your room.

Oh, but if she knew.

***

Thankfully, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the slightest desire to run into a guard who would ask you where you were going or escort you to your room for security reasons.

Your steps were as discreet as possible on the stone floor, like those of a small mouse. You moved quickly, stealthily, almost on tiptoe.

Only the crackle of the fire broke the heavy silence between the cold walls, where the dancing shadows of the flames distorted.

You slowed your pace. You had a doubt. You weren't sure which door was the one you were looking for.

And then suddenly, as you reached the end of the corridor, you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you against the wall, away from prying eyes. A strong grip, as if it didn't want to let you vanish again.

Jace was holding you between the wall and his own body. Despite the darkness, you could see his eyes shining in the candlelight, fueled by a devouring hunger you didn't know he possessed. He stared at you for a moment. His eyes in yours. A tension hung between you, burning, ready to consume you both, and you were completely willing.

Gently yet firmly he turned your body. Your chest against the cold wall, your back against his warm chest, and you pulled your hips back to provoke him. You wouldn't succumb so easily, not to Jacaerys.

He pressed himself against you, moving his pelvis forward so you could feel his hard member against the top of your buttocks.

"Do you feel what you're doing to me?" Another thrust of his hips. "Can you feel the effect you're having on me?" He pressed harder against you. Through the layers of fabric between you, you could almost feel him throb. Gods, he seemed big. "Teasing me all evening... Such a tease, aren't you?"

If it wasn't the consequence of your own actions.

You stifled a moan with your arm so as not to attract any patrolling guards. What you were doing was dangerous. At any moment you could be caught. At any moment you could be in big trouble.

But you couldn't stop now. Not when the best was yet to come.

You moved again, seeking more contact, seeking to make Jace harder and more painful than he already was, and you turned your head to challenge him. "What if it's you who's just too weak?"

You felt his hoarse breath against the back of your neck, at the base of your hair. He seemed to be hesitating, thinking. About what he was going to do to you, about what he was going to do to make sure you were responsible for your actions. Again he turned you so that you had your back to the wall, facing him, and you recognised the gleam of desire in his eyes.

Towering over you, he lowered his gaze to you, your faces inches apart. For a moment he let his eyes devour you, wandering from your eyes to your lips, from your lips to your breasts, visible through the fabric of your dress. He wanted to keep this image printed behind his eyelids; your half-open lips, your pleading gaze, like that of a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

You looked ravishing.

"Tell me to stop," Jace murmured. And you knew it was the sensible thing to do, you knew it was better to stop everything now, while it was still possible to turn back. For you weren't married yet.

But you had no desire to be responsible.

His fingers curled around a lock of your hair and tucked it behind your ear, waiting for your answer before continuing.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" you replied, your eyes locked with his. He felt your hand against his cheek as you detailed his face, tracing his well-sculpted cheeks, and he longed for more contact, his face seeking the warmth of your palm.

You put your arms around his neck to draw him closer, to close the distance between your lips, to feel his warmth against your body.

To quench this desire, this need that was becoming uncontrollable.

And your lips met in a feverish, urgent kiss. He pressed you further against the wall, his fingers running down your sides, brushing against the breasts he so craved.

He found your hips and his fingers worked frantically up the bottom of your dress in a crumpled ball of fabric to reach your core. "Look at how wet you are." His fingers brushed your folds through your undergarments. "All of this just for teasing me." He pressed one hand against the wall, still leaning against you, but not giving you what you wanted: his hand had stopped, and you tried to wiggle your hips to force him to continue, to force him to give you what you wanted.

Deep down, you loved the way he was losing control.

You loved that side of Jace you didn't know.

So you grabbed his wrist, guiding his fingers under the last barrier that separated his skin from yours.

The sensation was delicious.

The touch of his warm fingers against your folds sent a wave of heat from your lower belly through your entire body. You didn't want him to stop. "Here." You breathed against his lips. "This is where muña needs you." Aunt. He tensed beneath you, and you wondered if it was the ambiguity of the family tie, uttered in High Valyrian, that had such an effect on him.

You let your lips brush against his.

He collected your wetness on his fingers, exploring the slit between your folds up to your little pearl. You were soaking wet. And you desperately needed him inside you.

His fingers slid down to your opening where he applied a little pressure with the tip of his index finger without ever penetrating you.

"I know," he murmured, drawing small circles before abandoning your opening to return to your bud. "But I can't give you what you want now."

You whimpered under his cruelty, against his lips.

You could see through his game.

He wanted to make you beg, but you weren't the kind to beg. You were the one with the power and you were going to show him.

"We shouldn't stay here," you muttered, rubbing yourself against your nephew's hand. "If someone catches us..."

Jace nodded his head in agreement, withdrawing his fingers glistening with your juice, which you guided to his own lips, spreading the stickiness against his lips.

"If you're a good boy, I'll let you taste me."

And with that, he pulled you into his room.

***

Lying on the bed where you'd pushed him, Jace watched as you removed your dress, his prominent erection stretching the fabric of his breeches. The dress fell to the floor, forming a red puddle that you stepped over, one foot after the other.

Your nephew couldn't look away from your hypnotic figure, but his eyes inevitably wandered back to your breasts. You'd seen him glancing at your cleavage all evening, you could tell he wanted to run his fingers over your soft flesh, his lips over your nipples, and now that you were completely naked in front of him, you could see the unmistakable desire in his eyes.

You walked up to him. He clenched his jaw when he saw you. You, and the perfection of your shape, your little pointed nipples, the tantalising path that led from your chest to the space between your thighs where he knew you were soaked for him.

The flat of your hand pressed against his chest, forcing him to lie down between the pillows. He complied, never breaking the eye contact between the two of you, and you took your place on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. His husky breath escaped through his parted lips, lightly caressing your face.

You were naked, he was still dressed, and you had infinite power over him.

You lowered your hips against his covered crotch, the essence of your desire staining the linen of his breeches as your hips began to move slowly.

You leaned down and traced his jaw with the tip of your lips, planting kisses along his throat. Underneath you, his member twitched. Mimicking what he'd done earlier, you let your fingers rest on the painful bulge between his legs and whispered, "I know." You applied a little more pressure, drawing a moan from between his lips. "I know it's painful. But I can't give you what you want right now."

Jace growled. He wanted to turn you over, slam you against the mattress, pound into you and make you swallow your insolence. But he wanted to see how far you were willing to go. He wanted to see you keep control for a while longer.

You deftly undid his breeches to make it easier for your hand to slip through. You found his hard member, warm and heavy between your fingers.

It was a new sensation. As a model princess, you'd never ventured into this territory, saving your maidenhood for your future husband.

But Jace was your future husband.

You closed your fingers around him, your thumb collecting the sticky beads that had already formed at the tip of his cock and spreading it along his length.

"First I want to come on your tongue," your lips articulated against the skin of his throat as the hand that was in his breeches moved up his torso to close around his jaw, your thumb caressing his lower lip to emphasise your words. "Will you let me?" you added. In response, he let the tip of his tongue slip between his lips, touching the pad of your finger. "Let me show you," he whispered.

And indeed, Jace worked devotedly between your thighs, his tongue tracing the length of your slit, drinking in your essence as it flowed from your entrance like a delicious nectar. His tongue tickled your little knob, his thumbs spreading your folds to gain access to the treasure he coveted.

One of his fingers found your hole clenching around nothing, tracing small circles against it to force you to voice what you wanted. "Do you need me here?" he whispered against your flesh, the vibration of his deep voice sending shivers through your core. Your hands buried themselves in the dark mass of his hair and you moved your hips against his face, urging him to maintain the contact of his mouth against you. "Use your words, muña," he added, despite his nose being buried between your folds.

When you gave him the answer he was waiting for, he let a finger enter you in a delicious stretch. You held back a moan, your fingers digging deeper into his hair, not caring if you were hurting him or not. He continued to explore your cunt with his tongue, like a thirsty man, like a devoted man.

You wouldn't last long, your release close.

Jace then added a second finger. The sensation of his fingers inside you, against that rough spot, combined with that of his tongue between your folds, against your pearl, was simply divine.

"Go on," Jace started, but you immediately cut him off. "Shut up." You didn't want him to speak. You wanted him to continue with his damn tongue, with his broad fingers inside you. You didn't want him to stop. "I am... I am close."

And your climax washed over your entire body like a wave of warmth. Your legs closed around your nephew's face.

It was probably one of the best sensations you'd ever experienced.

Still between your legs, his fingers gripping your thighs, Jace collected your arousal on his tongue, sending shivers of overstimulation down your spine, and your whole body shuddering in a brutal spasm. You straightened up, knees still bent, your hand returning to your nephew's hair to guide him over you, his face close to yours. You stroked his cheek gently, as if to let him know he was a good boy, and your thumb picked up the sticky fluid that was smeared all over the bottom of his face.

You were both out of breath. You from the intense release you'd felt, he from the dedication he'd shown.

A smirk formed at the corner of your lips, and you pressed your thumb between his lips to ensure he didn't waste anything. Jace tilted his face close to yours. "You taste divine," he breathed, turning your cheeks red. "But now I need to be inside you."

His fingers slipped between your thighs, where your centre was pulsing, still far too sensitive from the ministrations he had given you.

"You can give me another, can't you?" He asked, and you nodded, so sore.

After he undressed, Jace pushed on your shoulders to make you lie down, but you skilfully changed positions, taking him by surprise.

You were unwilling to give him the power he wanted, not yet.

Straddling him, you moved your hips to rub your crotch against his erect manhood, spreading your wetness along his length. Beneath you, his torso rose and fell rapidly, and the grunts he let out conveyed his need for more. So your hand sought his hard member, guiding it to your entrance without letting it penetrate you. "So?" you asked playfully. "Do you think you've been a good boy ? Do you think you deserve to be inside me?" You wanted to make him beg, and Jace could see right through you. "To be the first?" you added, lowering your voice slightly, as if you were telling him a secret.

But he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer.

So he capitulated, giving you the defeat you'd been waiting for.

"Yes." he breathed. "Please." Your victorious smile stretched your lips and you guided him further against you, pressing his erection against your opening. Fuck. He was massive.

He was about to breathe a sigh of relief, ready to feel your velvet walls tighten around him, but you blocked his hip movement.

It wasn't enough.

"Please who?" you asked, your fingers moving back and forth around his manhood. He glared at you. You were gloating. "Please, muña," he finally begged, and you gave him what he wanted.

You lowered your hips to let him slide into you in a long thrust that stretched you around him. He was indeedmassive, and the new sensation of having him inside you was a delicious mix of dull pain and burning pleasure. You stood still for a moment to adjust to his presence inside you, your core throbbing around him. The initial pinch gradually dissipated, replaced by a pleasant sensation that sent a wave of warmth through your body.

And then he began to thrust in and out, pushing up to sink into you. "Fuck...fuck, you're tight," Jace growled. Your loose hair cascaded down either side of your face, tickling his cheeks, and he caught it in a messy bun to hold it behind your head.

You could feel the same pleasure as before building up in your lower abdomen.

Gods, you could feel him so intensely. So deeply too. Bouncing rhythmically against that particular part of you.

You buried your head in his neck, his woody scent filling your nostrils.

It was primal. Animal, between the two of you. All that mattered was the here and now. Your body against his, the sweat beading between you, the moans filling the room.

Jace tugged at your hair, causing you to throw your head back, freeing access to your chest, and he straightened up into a sitting position, his member still deep inside you, to find your breast. He buried his face in it and your hand instinctively found the back of his head to stroke his hair. Jace's lips traced a trail of kisses down the valley between your breasts, following the curve of your flesh before closing around your nipple, which he sucked gently. One of his arms wrapped around you to hold you tight against him, his other hand resting on the breast he wasn't devouring.

You stayed like that for a while, your legs on either side of him, his mouth seeking solace in your breasts, the divine sensation of being full, with him inside you, in the softness of the night, the flames rocking your lovemaking.

One of Jace's arms finally found your back and in one swift movement he reversed position. He desperately needed more, sensing that he wouldn't last long.

He pinned you beneath him, against the mattress, your legs immediately closing around him and the pace quickened. His thrusts became more messy, more sloppy because of your two combined essences. "You're mine, now" he grunted, and you shivered. His index and middle fingers wandered between your folds, caressing the spot where you were joined before moving to the pearl hidden at the top of your slit. "Am I?" you replied teasingly. You could feel him throbbing inside you. "Then be a good boy now and give muña your seed."

That was the spark that ignited the fire. Jace quickened the rhythm of his hips, his fingers still buried between your folds, his movements erratic. With each of his thrusts, you felt his member hitting that sensitive spot against your spongy inner walls. You tensed and for the second time that evening, your release flooded your entire body. You were followed by your nephew as Jace spilled into you, his seed painting white ropes against your womb.

He lay still inside you for a moment, his cock softening as you both caught your breath, your hands in his dark curls, his head at the nape of your neck.

You winced as he withdrew from your still sensitive core, his now cold seed flowing between your thighs. Jace dropped down beside you, satisfied. Then you turned to him. You grabbed his wrist one last time and guided his fingers to your centre, where your folds were smeared with the remnants of your lovemaking.

"Look how much you've left inside me," you whispered into his ear, making Jace collect his own seed on his fingertips and push it back into you. "I'm going to keep it all inside me, would you like that, sweet boy?" you whispered again.

And Jace pulled you against him to kiss you, his member stirring between his thighs, against you. It was true that he'd given you the upper hand this time. But he was ready to show you what he could do. You snuggled up against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

"Perhaps…We should bring the wedding date forward."

And he smiled.

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace x reader #jace velaryon #hotd x reader #jacaerys smut #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys x fem!reader #jacaerys velaryon fanfic

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knightjpg · 5 months ago

Text

Brick by Brick

And like a dog who's learned a new trick Simon rings your bell the next day. Wasn't happy with how he left it, and wasn't that faucet leaking? He's got plenty of spare wood in his shed, don't you worry. What's that about the boiler making a weird noise? He'll take a look at it, might have something for the draft in the hallway too. Pay him? What are you talking about, he does stuff like this for fun. Don't sweat it, love. Just hand him that wrench.

tags: construction worker simon/neighbour reader

part 1 | part 2

Summer is the worst time of year for construction work outside. Up early before the birds are awake to try and beat the heat, arriving on site at six or earlier with bleary eyes and creaky joints from the day before. It means coming home at four or five with lots of day left to get through yet without the will or energy to do anything beside shower, eat, watch some telly, and sleep.

The pay is good and it beats sitting in a cramped office all day, but when Simon gets home with aching knees and the thrum of a headache at the back of his skull it's hard to remember why on Earth he chose the career he's in. He's drenched in sweat, large dark patches adorning his pits and back.

It's one of those days where very little can make him stray from his commute straight to home to collapse into his big falling-apart chair, but today it's not really up to him. A large moving truck blocks his driveway. The faded company logo against dirty white overtakes the entire view of his windshield, though Simon can see the back doors are still swung open. No one to attend to it, though.

Simon noticed the FOR SALE! sign had gone, of course. Remembers feeling vaguely pleased, even, that the home next to his wouldn't be empty anymore, because he of all people knows exactly how quickly places can fall apart without anyone tending to it. But right now all he feels is tired, and hot, and really fucking annoyed. Just when he's clicked his belt loose to get out of the car and see if the dolt belonging to the truck is anywhere to be found, voices carry from the open front door.

“...last. I'm afraid it's a little heavy, though, so maybe we should get the boxes out first?”

And out steps the sweetest little thing he's ever seen. Hair tied up, tight little top, and shorts that give him ample view of your legs.

Maybe summer's not so bad after all.

You're talking to a bloke wearing a uniform that matches the moving truck and who looks flushed in the face from exertion. As soon as you clock Simon's car, though, you stop mid-sentence in surprise, and then quickly walk to him, brows furrowed apologetically.

“Oh, I'm so sorry—you're trying to get past us, aren't you?” Simon gives you a nod, and you turn back to the mover. “Would you mind moving the truck up a little? I don't want it to be in the way.”

There's precious little parking space ahead, so Simon rolls down his window and calls out to you, “Jus’ backing up a few yards s’fine.” He gestures to his driveway so you know that's where he's headed, and you flash him a smile and a thumbs-up in understanding.

The truck is moved, Simon parks his car, and you pull another heavy-looking box from the cube. You never reach your new doorstep with it; Simon steps in and lifts it from your hands. You blink up at him, lashes fluttering sweetly with surprise. “Oh—are you sure? It's heavy...!”

One corner of Simon's mouth tugs up. Tired as he is it weighs next to nothing, and he can't resist holding it with one arm, holding out the other.

“Can take ‘nother if you need.”

You laugh and assure him this is quite enough, then jog back to the truck while Simon pushes past the half-open door to his new neighbour's home.

It's a mess, of course. Piles of boxes, scattered furniture, rolled-up carpets. Simon puts the box down in the living room, then saunters back outside to lift another from your hands. He does the same with the couch; the mover is struggling and Simon doesn't trust him not to let it fall and crash. And you're such a little thing. Just doesn't feel right, watching you rush around and struggle without stepping in.

With Simon's help it's quick work. The mover thanks Simon before driving off, but he's not really listening. There's much more important things to pay attention to.

You're pretty. Cheeks flushed from exertion, breathing hard, flyaway hairs from your ponytail sticking up in odd directions. Simon has to suppress the urge to smooth them away.

"Thanks so much for the help,” you tell him earnestly. “I'm sorry we were in the way—we thought we'd have a little more time before people started coming home from work.”

“S’alright,” Simon says. It's nearing evening, now, the sky above you glowing in pale pink and oranges hues. The little smatter of trees across from you rustles with a gust of summer wind.

You introduce yourself and insist on giving Simon your number “in case there's ever anything you need.” Simon's more concerned about a young woman living all on her own but takes your number all the same, watching your pretty little fingers tap it in on his phone.

“I mostly work from home, but I'm very quiet and boring,” you tell him with a smile. “You don't have to worry about noise.”

For some reason that isn't the selling point it should be. When Simon stands inside his hallway, house empty and dark and quiet, he wishes he still lived in a shitty apartment with thin walls on the bad side of Manchester. Maybe then he'd hear your footsteps, or better yet, your voice. Instead the only thing waiting for him at home is silence. Heavy and thick, where he's ripped away from sweet sunshine and plunged underwater.

Simon is halfway to falling asleep on the couch when the bell rings. He groans, drags a hand over his face, and glances up at the TV. The football match is still going. The camera pans over a cheering crowd, their cries distant and quiet.

He mutes the thing entirely and heaves himself up to open the door. Swear to God, if this is the fucking salesman again...

“Hi there.”

You give Simon a little finger wave, your other hand cradling a round oven dish. When you shift on your feet the protective foil on top rustles noisily.

You look a little more put together than you did yesterday—rested, showered, fed. Just as pretty.

Although, speaking of fed...

“Alright?” Simon asks, eyes on the oven pan. He's only catching a faint whiff of something, but whatever it is smells really fucking good. His stomach reminds him that the only thing in his fridge are a couple cans of beer.

You nod and lift the dish with a shy little grin. “Yeah. Um. I wanted to say thanks again, for yesterday. And I wanted to test out my oven, so...”

You hold the dish out for him to take. Simon's fingers brush yours, large meaty paws easily twice the size of your own. When he peels back the foil you add, “Shepherd's pie. I thought about cookies, but I wasn't sure if you'd like those.”

The scent hits him, then, rich and hearty and buttery smooth. The dish is still a little warm.

Fuck. When was the last time he ate something homemade?

“No, I'll eat anything,” he says, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. He hasn't showered yet. Must look a nightmare. Does he stink? “Thanks.”

Your whole face lights up, and Simon's neck feels hot. He averts his eyes to avoid your gaze and pretends to inspect the pie instead. Jesus, what is he, twelve? “I'm glad. I'll leave you to it, then.”

D’you want to come in for a drink?

It's on the tip of his tongue, but he can't get the words out quite right and gives you a brusque nod, watching you walk back to your own home before closing his door all the way.

He eats at his kitchen table and finishes the whole thing in one go. Chases bits of flakey crust with his finger, licks up every leftover crumb. The meat is tender and juicy and for a while after the only things he smells is golden-brown potatoes seasoned with rosemary.

He mourns it when it's gone, of course. Has half a mind to go over right now and ask if your cooking is for hire—Simon can't remember the last time he felt satisfied. When he ate not just for the sake of fuel or convenience but because someone wanted him to have something nice, something special. Is it special? Is he special? Are you going around the neighbourhood handing out cookies and pies to just anyone?

Simon's sigh is loud in the silence and sticks to the kitchen walls.

The pre-made frozen meals are fine, of course. Empty plastic containers fill up the rubbish bin. They're easy and cheap and most days Simon's glad just to have something warm in his stomach.

And yet.

The next day Simon stands at your door at six in the evening sharp, holding the clean dish in his hands. You invite him in for a cup of tea, because unlike him you have good manners, and you sheepishly apologise for the stacks of boxes everywhere.

“S’alright,” Simon says, carefully manoeuvring around a large pile of books. “I don't mind.”

And he doesn't, though he does feel like a bull in a china shop. Large and much too coarse for the little tea cup you hand him while the kettle whistles on the stove.

“I'm afraid I don't have much to go with it,” you say with a flutter of your hands. “Do you like ginger snaps? I think I've got a pack somewhere.”

You don't wait for his answer and pry open one of the cupboards. First come the ginger snaps, then the box of Earl Grey, which you hold up to him with a triumphant smile. “Unpacked the important stuff first.”

Simon frowns and jerks his chin to the cupboard. “S’it stuck?”

“Oh—yeah. They all are.” You give the wood a little knock. “It'll take me some time to get to fixing everything. The house went for a good price, but only ‘cause it needs some love.” You give him a rueful smile and get up, wiping your hands on your thighs. “I'm not all that handy, so I'll have to take it bit by bit.”

Simon rises before you finish your sentence. "Let me see.”

“Oh, no, it's okay. It's not a big deal, really—”

Simon crouches down, slowly, to spare his knees, and tests the hinges. The wood is rotten in certain places, the hinges old and rusted. Rather than fixing it up it should be replaced entirely. You really better had gotten this place for good money, because this will take more than a bit of elbow grease to repair. He prods at the hinges, tuts, and looks up at you.

“Ready to fall apart, this one. You said they're all like this?”

You nod, worry creasing your brow. “I—yes. Well, the kitchen is. The bathroom seems alright. Is it worse than I thought?”

“Might be. You have anyone look at this?”

You shake your head. “I'm starting to feel silly about it now, but I was going to look up how to do it myself.”

Simon straightens. “I'll go get my kit.”

It's not as bad as he feared. Two cabinets need tearing down completely, but the others are worth saving. Simon warns you the repair job will fuck the wood, but you tell him it's no problem; you'll paint over it anyway.

You feed him tea and ginger snaps while he works, asking him several times if he wouldn't like a break, hasn't he done a lot already? You feel terrible about having him work on his day off. Didn't he say he worked construction? He must be so tired, poor man. You insist he stay for dinner. “You've been so helpful—it's the least I could do.”

Simon takes a breather to watch you cook. Chicken, pasta, summer salad. The sun sinks lower and hits you straight on from the kitchen window, painting the edges of you a dazed red-gold. An angel's halo.

“You big on reading, then?”

You turn down the heat and put a lid over the pan to join him at the table. Simon's eyeing the many books strewn about on top of boxes that say “pans” and “kitchen supplies”. Le Morte D’Arthur. Histories of the Kings of Britain. Beowulf. There's even one that prompts a vague, long-forgotten memory from his school days— The Canterbury Tales.

“I am. Always have been.” You nod to the books. “I teach at university—medieval literature. But I'm working on my own research on the side.”

Simon lets out a low whistle. His pretty bird is a clever one. Smarter than him, that's for sure. He might be big and strong but he's got bricks for brains.

That's what his dad always used to say, anyway—that he's stupid. Those always were his kinder moments.

“That explains all the books y’got.”

“There sure are a lot of them, aren't there? I swear moving really makes you realise just how much stuff you own...” You shake your head. “I'll have to get a bigger bookcase.”

“Think it's impressive.”

Your eyes crinkle with a smile. “Not as impressive as knowing how to fix my cabinets! I don't know how I would've managed by myself.” You hop up from your seat to check the food, then ask over your shoulder, “Is that something you do a lot for work, too? Carpentry and the like?”

Simon shakes his head. “We do the heavy lifting. Clearing a place out, laying the foundation. Johnny—my coworker, he's mostly on machinery. Kyle does transport and plumbing. I do the heavier handiwork.”

You hum and start plating the food while asking him more questions. Is the pay good? Is his boss fair? Are his coworkers nice?

Price's fairly strict is what he is, Simon answers, and you laugh again. He likes that. Likes that he gets you to do that.

He wolfs down a plate of his pasta and devours the chicken. It's fragrant, roasted with lemon and thyme, bursts between his teeth. He tells you more about Johnny, that he's a cocky bastard who likes playing with electricity way too much, but that he's also a loyal friend. That he's a hard worker—that all of them are.

When his plate is empty and he's eyeing what's left in the pans you push them closer without saying anything, and prompt him to tell you about that time a plumbing line exploded and Kyle got soaked from tip to toe in disgusting gunk. He smelt like sewage water for weeks.

Simon doesn't even realise how much he's talked until his throat starts feeling rougher than usual. You make it easy somehow. If he'd thought you would look down on him because of your own job he needn't have worried. You're not at all like what he imagines when he thinks of professors, none of the stuffy superiority complex he's used to weathering when people find out all he does all day is chafe his fingers on hard cement.

Maybe you're just good at faking it, but he doubts it. The sparkle in your eyes when you listen to him so intently has to be real.

You send him home with a warm thanks and dessert, and Simon feels something in his chest lurch when you peer up at him through your lashes in the doorway, smiling and sweet. Can't remember the last time he went out for dates. Can't remember having the time or energy for it.

Pay him? What are you talking about, he does stuff like this for fun. Don't sweat it, love. Just hand him that wrench.

There are days when it's hard, of course. Simon is only human, and spending days and days on sizzling hard concrete would wring anyone dry. The project is coming along nicely, but at the height of summer there's plenty of times when even the promise of your smile isn't enough to keep him from falling asleep on his couch—often on an empty stomach.

But during the weekends he rings your bell dutifully. Six o’clock becomes something sacred in his mind, sweet relief after praying on his knees for hours smoothing out cement. It gets to the point where he turns down Friday drinks with the guys more than once because he's got something to go home for now, his pretty little bird that's never once mentioned a boyfriend of any kind.

“You really should let me pay you.”

Simon gives you a look before pushing his large shoulders further into the cabinet under the bathroom sink. “Should be the one payin’ you. I know I'm doubling your grocery bill.”

He eats more at your place than his own these days. It gives him incentive to rush through a shower, dress like something resembling a human, then wait at your doorstep to be let in. Wagging tail and everything.

Your cheeks darken and you duck your head. “No, um... It makes me happy. To see you eat my cooking, I mean,” you confess a little shyly. “I feel like I'm the one getting everything out of this. I hope I'm not keeping you from—from spending time at home, or with your family.”

“S’just me, love.” Simon pauses, pretends to inspect the pipes. “Less you don't want me coming ‘round anymore.”

“No, no,” you say hastily. “No, I like—I like the company. Really.” Your voice softens. “And I'm not just saying that because I appreciate the help.”

Simon exhales, shifts a little to accommodate the strain in his boxers, and holds his hand out for the screwdriver.

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #simon ghost riley x reader #x reader #if you saw me post this to the wrong blog. no you didnt.

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navybrat817 · 1 year ago

Note

I wish I had a smitten Bucky. Just sees me and wants me. 🥺

I know the feeling, nonnie.

Check Yes or No

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky instantly falls for you, but waits to ask you out.

Word Count: Over 2.1k

Warnings: Fluff, could be seen as instalove on Bucky's side, attraction, slight insecurities, minor time jump, Alpine being the best, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I can't send Bucky your way, lovelies, so I hope you enjoy this short, surprise fic! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wasn't looking for love the day he met you, but it found him anyway.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted from his seat when he walked into the conference rooms and nodded to the spot beside him that you occupied. “I’d like you to meet our newest transfer. She’s also moving into the Tower.”

He was a changed man the moment your eyes met. Breathtaking was a word to describe you given how he had forgotten to breathe. He had witnessed many sunrises and sunsets in his life, a kaleidoscope of colors painted in the sky to both soothe and awaken the soul. They paled in comparison to the beauty before him.

One glance and he belonged to you completely.

“Hi, Bucky. It’s nice to meet you.”

While he wasn't sure if Heaven existed, you speaking his name was like hearing the voice of an angel.

“I’m Bucky.”

Of all the things he could've said, reiterating his name was what his mouth went with.

Instead of giving him a weird look or brushing him off when he scowled at himself, you smiled. “I look forward to us working together.”

Bucky couldn't tell you what the meeting was about that day, but he remembered the details about you. The way you leaned forward in your seat to pay extra attention when someone else spoke, also giving him an ample view of your chest before he reminded himself not to stare. The slight crease in your forehead when you jotted down an important note. And the soft giggle you let out when Steve cracked a joke.

He suddenly wished he was funnier.

“Have a good rest of the day, Bucky,” you said when the meeting ended.

Bucky didn't have to try to smile with you. It just came naturally. When you smiled back, it was easy to imagine what it would be like if you were his girl.

“You, too,” he replied, giving himself a mental victory for not screwing up his words this time. “Wait!”

You paused and looked at him expectantly. “Yeah?”

Bucky realized he had no reason to keep you from leaving. He just didn't want you to go. “Do you need help moving your stuff in?”

“I actually got my things moved in late last night, but thanks for the offer,” you replied, checking the time with wide eyes. “I'm so sorry. I have to go. I’m in 2L if you need anything!”

“Bye,” he called after you, turning in his chair to watch you go.

How did he miss you already?

Though Steve had a knowing look in his eyes, he graciously kept his mouth shut as he left the room. He reminded him an hour later that he wouldn't break any bylaws by asking you out. The punk somehow knew that you weren't seeing anyone.

Which made him happy.

While he appreciated Steve looking out for happiness, he still had to get his head on straight.

“Once I completely trust my own mind, maybe I will,” Bucky said, even though the stuff was already out of his head. He owed it to himself to take his time. And you.

Imagine his surprise when he found a note from you on his door the next day.

Hey, Bucky! Lunch on me today? Check YES or NO.

The lopsided grin on his face wouldn't go away when he read it again. You must've been interested in him enough to ask about him. How else did you know his apartment number? Why else would you ask him to lunch?

He nearly shouted “YES” in the hall before he came to his senses and simply checked the option before he returned the note to your apartment door.

When he met up with you later, he told himself it wasn't a date. It couldn't be, right? It didn't keep his heart from stopping when you answered your door. Dressed down and casual, you looked like an angel went to Earth just for him.

“Hey, Bucky,” you smiled. “Ready to go?”

He hadn't said much on the way to the cafe since he was too busy hanging on to your every word, but it was like he had known you for ages as you carried on the conversation. Your questions weren't invasive and you didn't seem to mind the occasional short answers. It was also the shortest meal of his life, over too soon for his liking, and he also refused to let you pay for his meal.

He wanted to show you that gentlemen still existed.

“Lunch again next week?” You offered.

“Sure,” he answered, his head spinning from giddiness.

But it wasn't a date.

It was time to change that.

Today was the day. Six months from the day he met you. Six months of chatting with you between missions and slowly getting to know you over weekly lunches. Six months of falling for you more and more each day and he finally worked up the courage to ask you out.

But falling was the easy part. Confessing was an entirely different story. He would either crash to the ground and hope his wounds would later heal or you’d catch him as he fell. No matter what, he wouldn't let his nerves get the better of him.

“Just like we practiced, okay?” Bucky asked.

“Meow.”

Alpine nuzzled her head against Bucky’s with a gentle purr when he huffed. She was his little partner-in-crime through and through. Like you, even though you didn't realize it, the little white ball of fur helped save him. He was fairly certain he wasn't supposed to bring her to this floor, but any reprimand would be worth it.

Besides, the Tower, office, anywhere they operated should allow them to have their pets with them, especially for emotional support.

“I'm counting on you,” he teased, placing the folded up piece of paper in her mouth. “Go.”

He peeked around the corner when he set Alpine down. The sun illuminated you from where you sat in the lounge, curled up in your normal spot on the sofa. You liked to relax there occasionally to read. He wondered what book you had with you today.

Thankfully, no one was around to disturb you.

Except for him.

“Alpine, is that you?” You asked when you looked up, closing the book as the cat approached you. While the feline was cautious of some, she warmed up to you immediately when you met and solidified that you were the one for him. “Whatcha got there? Where’s Bucky?”

His name spilling from your lips was still one of his favorite sounds.

He held his breath when Alpine jumped up beside you, opened her mouth, and dropped the paper in your lap. He immediately began to second guess himself when you unfolded it with a furrowed brow. Why did he think this was a good idea? Why didn't he just ask you like a normal guy?

To be fair, he hadn't been normal for some time.

“Will you go out with me? Check YES or NO. Love, Bucky,” you read out loud with a huge smile, which was enough to make his heart race. You giggled a moment later when Alpine bumped your hand, the soft noise making his stomach do a funny sort of flip. “Okay, okay. Let me get my pen out of my bag.”

Bucky exhaled a little as he moved to stand in the doorway. You didn't toss the paper away, so that had to be a good sign. He carefully kept himself from showing any outward emotion when you met his gaze, but his knees nearly gave out. His palms also began to sweat when you gave him a half smile.

Just when he thought you couldn't look more beautiful than you had the day before, you proved him wrong.

He ran a hand through his hair and hoped he looked halfway decent since he hadn't brushed it. But you commented a few weeks back that you liked it long when you saw an old photo, so he wanted to grow it out. He lost count of how many times he imagined your fingers in his hair

Maybe one day.

Watching you grab your pen, it was like he was drowning. The tide pulled him under as you made a mark on the sheet. His lungs burned when you handed it back to Alpine. He couldn't come up for air. He couldn't breathe.

Until you smiled again.

“Thanks, Alpine,” you said.

His cat gracefully walked back to Bucky and he swore he caught you trying not to giggle as she climbed up his leg. His heart hammered in his chest when he took the slip of paper from her mouth. Meeting your tender gaze, he couldn't bring himself to open it though.

After he told himself he wouldn't let his nerves get the better of him.

“Not going to see what my answer is?” You asked as he carried Alpine into the lounge.

“I want to,” he replied, sighing as he took a seat beside you. His cat was perfectly content to lay in his lap. “But I’m questioning if I did this the right way.”

The note you gave him for a simple lunch request may have been a small gesture in your eyes, but it meant the world to him. He thought by asking you out this way that he could give you something meaningful in return. Something that only the two of you shared.

That was all he wanted.

You turned toward him, your knee touching his. The small touch sent heat down his spine. “Open it and you’ll find out.”

He nodded, thankful that his vibranium hand didn't shake as he lifted the sheet. “Wait, let me say something before I do.”

The corner of your lip tugged as you tried not to smile. “Bucky-”

“I like you. I really like you. I have since the day we met. And I'm going to like you tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that,” he admitted in a rush, catching your sharp inhale as he looked into your eyes. “But I know my past isn't easy to deal with. If you just want to be a teammate or colleague, that’s okay. Just. Being a part of your life in some way is more than enough.”

Alpine lifted her head and looked between the two of you, as if she was waiting with baited breath to see what would happen next.

Bucky felt a crack in his heart when you didn't speak or react, his body slumping slightly into the couch. It was okay. He took a chance and told you how he felt. He wouldn't force you to reciprocate.

“Bucky?” You asked above a whisper, reaching over to help him unfold the paper. He gasped when he saw the checkmark beside “YES”, blinking rapidly to make sure you picked that box. “I really like you, too.”

“You do?” He exhaled, grasping your hand with renewed joy. He was careful not to squeeze too hard. Hurting you was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

“Yeah. Pretty much since the day I met you,” you admitted, glancing in your lap before you met his gaze again. He saw stars in your eyes. “And your past isn't your fault, Bucky. You aren't something to ‘deal with’, okay? You’re a good man. I can give you a whole list of reasons if you need it.”

Physically, Bucky’s body was in peak condition. Your confession, however, caused all of the air to leave his lungs and made him weak in the best possible way. A familiar warmth moved through Bucky’s veins as he breathed again and it dawned on him at that moment that he hadn't felt cold since you walked into his life.

Not once.

Your faith in him gave him strength. Your mere existence gave him the courage to try. And he didn't have to go it alone.

“Wow,” he breathed, relieved and elated as he gave you a small smile. “How about tomorrow night?”

“It’s a date,” you smiled.

“Great,” he smiled back. A date. He couldn't wait to see the look on Steve's face when he told him that he finally asked you out.

“And I think the note was purrfect,” you teased at Alpine before you scrunched up your face. “I ruined the moment, didn't I?”

Bucky brought your hand to his mouth, kissing it as gently as he possibly could. He could hear your heart race. So was his. “Not at all.”

He knew it was too soon to say he loved you and it was likely too soon for you to feel that way about him, but he felt hope in your smile that you would one day.

For now, he had a date to plan all because you checked “yes”.

We know it'll be the best date ever, right? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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peachesofteal · 6 months ago

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Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader

Simon's short term rental is almost claustrophobic.

He tries to stay out of it, tries to keep himself busy. Active. After a week since you asked him to go home, to give you some space, he noticed he's lost weight. The thick of his ribs, his stomach, his thighs, has thinned out, cutting his bulk, exposing more muscle.

The grief feels more fresh than it has in years. Talking to you, telling you, has dredged up long buried things, agony and regret, pain that steals his breath and leaves him paralyzed. He forces himself not to think of it, but it still finds a way to creep in. To make him feel torn apart, turns him into a ghost.

He walks a lot. Walks to the store. Walks to the pub. Walks to the park. Sometimes he sits on the bench and watches mums push their buggies, wondering if it's something you might enjoy, if you were feeling better. Wishing he had made more of an effort to get you out of the flat, into the sunshine.

He's still walking to your building at night, standing under the tree, watching the lights flicker on and off. Your windows stay lit longer now, periods of sleep more infrequent, leaving him to worry that you're not getting enough rest, not taking care of yourself.

He walked all morning into early afternoon today. Tried to quell the nausea swirling in his stomach, tried not to watch the clock, or count the seconds. Tried to brace himself for the bittersweet he knew was coming.

>Hey, I'm going to be leaving pretty soon for work, and could be gone for a while. Could I see Orion before I go? Spend some time with him?

>Sure.

Your reply still rings in his ears. Short. Torturous.

But he doesn't blame you. He did it the wrong way. You have a child, his child, to protect, to take care of. Of course, you should be concerned. Maybe he should have found a better way to tell you. Maybe he shouldn't have told you at all.

A large part of him, the instinctual part, considered refusing you, when you asked him to give you some time, and he still hasn't made a decision about what he will do in the long run.

It would be so easy, to hide you away. To take you in the middle of the night, wake you up in a brand new home, high in hill, in a whole new country across a border.

When the knock on his door finally comes, he crams the overflow of emotion coursing through his heart into a teeny tiny box, and prays he'll be able to keep a lid on it.

"Hey." Orion turns in your grip, looking for Simon's voice, and you smother a wince at the shift in his weight.

"Hi." You look through him. Past him. To the left of his elbow, at his shoulder, the floor. Anywhere but his eyes.

"Thanks for letting me spend some time with him." Your lips go flat, but you shuffle the baby into his arms, managing to avoid skin to skin contact. It makes his stomach hurt worse than it already did.

"Of course, you're... you're his dad." You peek around him, trying to get a better look of the flat. "Do you uh, have stuff for him?"

"I went to the store."

"Okay. Well, good." You hand him the bag next. "I wasn't sure what you had so there are a few changes of clothes in there, just in case, and some bottles. They should probably go in the fridge. Diapers, some toys. Just in case... I didn't want.... I wanted you to have everything you might need." It's thoughtful of you, and he wants to smile, but you won't look at him.

"Thank you." You nod.

"Alright well, I'll come pick him up later? Just text me I guess, when you're ready. Hopefully he'll take a bottle."

"I can bring him-"

"No, that's okay." you cut him off sharply, shaking your head. He frowns.

"Why not?"

"I- I don't mind, coming by to get him."

"But if it's dark..."

"I can manage." You snap, and he purses his lips, but says nothing.

"Alright well, see you later then." You make some noncommittal noise, and then step closer, mouth pressing to Orion's cheek.

"Bye baby, love you." You finally look up at him, really look, and he holds his breath when he sees it all in your eyes. Pain. Confusion. Worry.

He did that.

The evening goes too fast. He manages to get Ry to nap, and drink over half a bottle, a huge win, but spends most of the time just holding him, walking him in circles in his flat, trying to memorize the feeling of his baby in his arms. He's fussier than usual, crying anytime Simon tries to put him down, which he doesn't mind, but concerns him. Is he like this at home, with you? Is this why you've been up more at night?

Still, it's over too soon, and when you're knocking on the door again, he stands on the other side a few seconds too long, wishing he had more time.

He's always wishing he had more time.

"How was he?"

"Good. More fussy than usual, but I got him to take most of a bottle. Is he doing alright?"

"He's been like this, the past few days. He's either going through a growth spurt, or developing some late colic. I hope it's the growth spurt." Oh no.

"Well, I'm here if you need anything. If you want me to take him at all." You nod.

"When uh... when are you leaving?"

"Two weeks or so. Once the guys get back, they'll have a few days debrief and then... we'll be off."

"Okay, well. Just let me know, when you want him again?"

"I will." He kisses Orion's cheek, whispering in his ear how much he loves him, before passing him to you. You have to reposition your posture to support his weight, and he winces. "Are you okay?" You blink at him, skeptical and surprised.

"I'm great Simon. Really peachy."

"Look, I know I really sprung-"

"Sprung? Is that what you're calling that? Simon... you blindsided me. You... you-" He holds up his hands.

"I'm much more careful now. I've learned a lot of hard lessons, and I would never, ever allow anything to happen to you or Orion." His shoulders slump, and he drops his eyes to the floor. Ashamed. Grief trying to work its way, trying to break him down just as it has all these years before. "I've learned from my mistakes." There's a long, uncomfortable since between the two of you, one that Orion fills with fussing, and then your voice cracks.

"Simon, that wasn't your fault.... I'm not... I'm not upset about... that. Or anything, that happened to you. I mean, I'm upset but not at you for that..." You take a deep breath. "I am upset for you, that those things happened to you, that you've been through such trauma, such horrible things." Tears wet your cheeks, but he doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. "I would never hold that against you. I'm upset about your job. And the danger it puts us in. I'm upset that I didn't know that you'd been gone for weeks, possibly months at a time. I'm upset that you promised me you'd be here, and then never mentioned the super secret task force that will... take you away from us." Orion cries, and you bounce him back and forth, finally looking Simon dead in the eye, facing him head on. "It feels like you've been lying to me, for weeks now. I thought we were in this, together, that we were- we were building something, together. Now it just feels like... I could lose you at any second instead. That Orion could lose his father, grow up without you." The last word rips from your lips in a sob, and you shake your head as he steps close.

"You will never lose me. Do you understand? That will never happen." He vows it, swears it, forces it out into the universe as a covenant, but you only shake your head again, sadly.

"You can't promise that."

#peaches writes #through me (the flood)#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader

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mariasont · 7 months ago

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Lip Gloss - S.R

a/n: wow this is really short and i feel like i overuse the lip gloss shtick but

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

summary: in which spencer really likes your sparkly lip gloss

warnings: none? fluff

wc: 0.5k

Pink. Sparkles. Lip gloss. Those were the only thoughts running through Spencer's mind as he walked into the break room. Which this was a surprise to him because usually his mind was running a mile a minute--mathematical equations, book references, and case theories. But when you were near that was all reduced to a heaping pile of nothing. Especially now, as you leaned casually against the counter, in pink pumps and matching skirt that definitely wasn't up to the dress code, but he wasn't sure if you cared.

Cradled between your hands was a white mug, its side inscribed with the words 'Britney survived 2007. You can handle today' in stark black letters. He had no idea what it meant, but he noticed it was your favorite, a staple in your daily routine, unless it found its way to the top self, an inconvenience Spencer would subtly always rectify when he went to pour his own cup.

The focal point of his attention, however, was your lips, more precisely, the sheer layer of shimmering gloss that clung to them. Words were forming on those same lips, presumably directed at him, but they seemed to dissolve before reaching his ears, his gaze transfixed by the glistening movement of your mouth.

"Huh?"

With a smile, you pressed your glittering lips together and took a step in his direction. He managed to clear his throat, trying to redirect his attention to your eyes, but his gaze remained helplessly planted.

"I swear, half my routine is just reapplying this stuff after every sip," you said while your thumb worked diligently to wipe away the sparkling smudge from the mug.

"Considering the non-Newtonian fluid dynamics of the lip gloss's polymeric substances, which exhibit both viscous and elastic properties, it leads to a higher propensity for adhesion and cohesion on substrates with varying thermal coefficients."

Your fingers absentmindedly toyed with your earlobe as you cocked your head, a bemused furrow forming above your eyes, but your smile remained undiminished.

"Sorry, that went right over my head," you laughed, nose scrunching in the process. "But it's sweet of you to assume I caught all that."

"Oh, sorry, well, lip gloss is made of oils and waxes that give it that shiny appearance. However, these ingredients don't fully absorb to your skin, so when you press your lips against something, like a hot coffee cup, the excess transfers over."

Heat suffused his face as he registered the unwavering attention you afforded him, as if you were hanging on his every syllable. He sensed your struggle to comprehend, but your effort was evident. He really liked having your attention.

"So, with all that brainpower, do you have any tips for keeping my gloss on my lips instead of my mug?"

"Maybe a straw?"

Your laughter was like music to his ears, filling his senses as your hand, perfectly manicured, lightly touched his arm. A rush of warmth flooded his neck, and he looked at you, momentarily lost for words, as you murmured, "I'll try that out, thanks, Dr. Reid."

"Spencer," he corrects.

"Right, well, thank you, Spencer," you said, standing on tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek, before twirling on your heels, your smile lingering in the air.

Spencer could feel the stickiness on his skin, his fingers pressing against the spot you had left, feet glued to the ground. He starting to think he really likes lip gloss.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x bimbo!reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #Spotify

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sturn-saturn · 3 months ago

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hey baby girl

pairing: fem!pregnant!reader x husband!chris

warnings: just cutesy stuff <3

a/n: i thought of doing this while watching shameless 😁

week 20: "hey, baby girl!" chris says as he holds up a camcorder. "so today, mama and i went to the baby doctor and we found out you're a girl!" your husband turns the camera to you and your hand is placed on your baby bump rubbing it up and down while the other is holding up your ultrasound pictures.

"we're so excited to meet you baby girl!" you smile kissing the camera goodbye.

week 21: "hey, baby girl!" you say holding the camera. chris is upstairs in your shared bedroom still sleeping. "as you can see, mama just woke up, i'm very tired but dad i have some errands to run so we can prepare for you to join us in 19 weeks. so the plan for today is to visit your grandparents, dads parents, then we're going out to target to look at some onesies for you and little socks to keep your tiny toes warm, after is the grocery store. i'll be sure to get some yummy stuff so i can keep you and i fed! alright baby girl, catch you later!" you say kissing the camera once again.

week 22: you and chris were on the couch watching coraline since it was your favorite comfort movie.

"hey baby girl!" chris says holding the camera up to face you both has his other hand is rubbing your belly gently.

"so right now dad and i are watching my favorite comfort movie because i wasn't feeling well today."

"her tummy was cramping but don't worry, it wasn't your fault. you're our baby girl, you could do no wrong." your husband says with a big grin.

"i'm hoping when you're older you enjoy this movie as much as i do. your dad and i actually watched this on our 5th date i believe." you smile.

"alright sweetheart, mamas gotta get her rest, see you tomorrow!" your husband says kissing the camera.

week 23: "hey baby girl! alright so we are in the car right now and todays plan is going to the doctor to make sure you're healthy and see how much you've grown. after that we need to find a bassinet for you to get a good nights sleep!" chris smiles at how cute he finds you.

"there are so any people who can't wait to meet you sweetheart. 4 grandparents, a bunch of aunts and uncles, our friends too!" he adds.

"you're so loved already, honey. okay we're here! time to go!" you kiss the camera.

week 24: "hey baby girl so today, uncle nick and uncle matt dropped by and got you some presents. they got you the cutest onesies, some baby bottles, and toys! we know you wont be able to play with toys until you grow a bit and get used to the new world but you are going to love them! also dad has something to say." you hand the camera to chris and get up to get a snack.

you over hear your husband talking to the camera and your eyes soften looking over at him.

"mama and i are gonna do everything we can to protect you. we will support you in anything you want to do. the only things we want from you is to be a good person and spread love. also you have to play lacrosse or hockey like me and your uncles did!" he laughs.

"chris what if she doesn't wanna play either of those?" you ask.

"well what every she decides to play she's gonna be amazing. she's half of you anyway. bye darling!" he yells kissing the camera.

week 25: "hey baby girl! we're currently at grandma and grandpas house for a little cook out with the family." you say showing everyone around.

"are you guys making a little vlog for the baby?" jimmy asks.

"we are!"

"mind if i say a few words?"

"not at all!" you hand the camera to jimmy and you use this time to rest your arms a bit.

"alright sweetheart. as you know, i'm your grandfather, your dads dad. i just wanted to let you know that i can't wait to meet you. you're my first grandkid! as much as i love my boys, i've always wanted a girl in the family and you're finally making that dream happen. i will definitely be taking you on fishing trips so get ready!"

jimmy hands you the camera with a big smile on his face. "you're gonna be a great mother, honey."

tears start to well in your eyes from the love you've received from your husbands family throughout the years. you thank jimmy and you kiss the camera goodbye.

week 40: "hey baby girl!" chris whispers. "today is a big day. mama felt some extra kicks last night and it turns out you're coming today! she's currently resting right now so she can use all her energy and strength to bring you here. keep this between us, but your moms a superhero." he smiles.

"chris?" you mumble. "come here."

chris comes over with the camcorder in his hand with a look of concern on his face. "what's up mama?"

you reach your hand for the camera and he hands it to you.

"hey sweet girl. i'm sure dads told you we're at the hospital right now waiting for you to come. it's currently 10pm and we're all super tired but this is all worth it if it means we get to finally meet you." you smile lazily.

4 hours later...

the doctors all finally left the room. they said that was the easiest delivery they've had to work through. chris is currently standing with your baby girl in his arms facing the window to see the city lights.

"hey clara." chris whispers rocking his daughter back and forth gently. "mamas resting again. the doctors told her she did a great job! i told you your mom was a superhero. in just 3 days you'll get to come home with us. how exciting is that!? grandma and grandpa are coming tomorrow to see you as well as your uncles. i love you baby girl. goodnight." chris kisses his daughters head before setting her back in her bassinet.

he relishes in the feeling of being a new dad before he drifts off into a good nights sleep.

taglist:

@sturniolos4life16 @hoeforchrizz @luckyscharms @emely9274 @chrispotatos @weirdratperson @simpson12 @ilovemenwithlonghairr @angeldvstee @pussypie456 @valentinasturniolo @chrissturnioloenthusiastforlife @cravingchrissturniolo @wonnieeluvvr @flouvela

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myth1cs · 1 month ago

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Getting Revenge (Hirai Momo x M!Reader)

Don't ask (I'm sorry) Word Count: 2166

I was walking through the hallways before I suddenly got shoved into a wall.

"Hey Y/N so any updates on the group assignment?"

I groaned when I realized that it was Momo.

Momo was very popular. When I got assigned to be with her for the group project I was a little excited until I found out Momo didn't have any intention of actually doing any work.

Now I'm pulling her dead weight which isn't easy since I still have major projects from my other classes that I have to do.

"Yeah I'm almost done with it."

"Good anyways see you later Y/N." Momo said as she continued walking down the hallway.

Momo is every teachers favorite student. No one would believe me if I told them she wasn't pulling her weight and since I don't want to fail this assignment then I have no choice but to do it all on my own.

I swear if I ever get a chance to screw her over I will.

I went back to my dorm and saw that my roommate Kim Chaewon was already there.

Chaewon looked up from her laptop and looked at me "Hey Y/N how were classes today."

"You know the same." I said as I sat down next to her on the couch.

"Is that Momo girl still not doing her part of the assignment?"

"Yeah and I'm gonna have to stay up all night doing her part."

"That sucks Y/N. I would help if I could but I have my own class work to do."

I pulled out my laptop and started working on the assignment. Me and Chaewon worked next to each other in silence until she spoke up.

"Before I forget Y/N I invited my friend Yeji over so we can do some karaoke. Is that gonna be a problem?"

Yeji and Chaewon can get pretty loud when they do karaoke. And Chaewon knows that I am going to stay up all night doing work so she's probably asking cause she doesn't want to disturb me. But I didn't want to ruin Chaewons day as she doesn't have much free time and this was likely the only time she could hangout with one of her friends at least until exams ended.

I guess I can suck it up for one night.

"No problem Chaewon but can you try to keep it down this time."

"No promises." Chaewon said before she went back to doing her work.

"I shouldn't be up at this hour." I said as I looked at the clock and saw it was 1:30am.

I tried focusing on my work but I couldn't due to how loud Chaewon and Yeji were.

I texted my friend Haewon if I could stay in her dorm for the night and she quickly replied that I could.

I grabbed my stuff and made my way to her dorm but on my way I heard something coming from the floor below.

"Fuck I'm stuck."

The voice sounded familiar but I couldn't tell who it was because it was so quiet. I'm not sure why someone would be downstairs because the college is doing renovations down there so students shouldn't be their to begin with.

Just in case someone actually needs help I made my way downstairs and saw a bunch of incomplete walls and it looked like someone was stuck.

It was dark so I walked closer to see who it was.

"Wait is there someone there? ... YES I'm stuck can you pull me out!"

I paused as I realized I recognized that voice.

"Momo?"

"Oh great the last person I wanted to see, honestly I'd rather be stuck here until someone else arrives than be helped by you."

"Momo what are you doing here? Students aren't supposed to be down here."

"Well I got curious about what was down here and I tripped. Now I'm stuck in this wall. Happy now Y/N? Now if you can just pull me out we can both act like nothing happened."

I walked in front of Momo and we could barely see each other's faces because of how dark it was.

"I thought you said you'd rather be stuck than have me help you."

"Look Y/N I'm known as a popular student. If a teacher finds me it'll be embarrassing and if another student finds me they'll definitely take pictures and ruin my reputation. So how about you help me out here."

"Help you? Why would I do that if you have never made an effort to help me?"

"Ugh you're so needy. Fine I'll do anything you want if you help me get out of this wall except school work."

I pondered for a moment if I should help out Momo. I mean taking a picture of her stuck in a wall and spreading it to others would ruin her reputation. But on the other hand...

"I'll take that deal."

"Thanks Y/N now just get me out of here and I'll hold up my end of the deal." Momo said desperate to get out of the wall.

"I think you can hold your end of the deal just fine in the wall." I said as I started to pull my pants down.

"Wh-what are you doing." Momo said sounding both shocked and nervous.

"Momo as much as I hate you I can't lie. I find you extremely attractive. So I think I'll pleasure myself with you."

Even though I could barely see Momos face I could tell she was slightly blushing.

"Well ... Fine just know I'm only agreeing because I want to get out of here not because I have any feelings for you."

I pulled my pants all the way down and my cock sprung out. I started smacking it on Momos face which eventually made her groan.

"Y/N stop teasing me."

I decided to listen to her and shoved my cock deep inside her mouth.

Momo was trying to say something but it was muffled. I started to quickly thrust in and out of Momos mouth. I felt extreme pleasure from Momo. I shoved my cock as deep as I could inside Momos mouth and she started gagging. Her throat felt insanely good I didn't want to pull out.

Tears fell down Momos cheek and she tried to push me away but I kept my cock in her mouth.

Eventually I did pull out and Momo started gasping for air. I was more focused on how drenched my cock was. It was completely covered in her spit. I couldn't believe I got the most popular girl in school to choke on my cock.

I got on my knees so I could have my face on the same level as Momos and I started to kiss her.

Momo kissed me back and we started to make out. I slid my tongue into her mouth and our tongues started to fight. I won and the tongue war and started to kiss Momo more roughly.

Momo reached down and started to pump my cock and I moaned into Momos mouth.

My cock started twitching and I knew I was about to cum. I stopped kissing Momo and she looked at me confused.

"Y/N why did you stop? Was I not a good enough kisser?"

"Momo are you on birth control?"

"Yeah wh-" Momo cut herself off as she quickly realized what I wanted to do.

I went to the other side of the wall and pulled her jeans down. When I saw her big ass and her pink panties my cock got hard instantly, and I put my hands on Momos ass and started touching every inch of it.

"Fuck Y/N just do it."

"Well that isn't as fun Momo."

I started to lick Momos ass while rubbing her covered pussy.

"Y/N I fucking swear-"

"Fine since you're so impatient I guess I'll get on with it then Momo."

I decided to get on with it and took her panties off and aligned my cock with her pussy.

"Y/N this is my first time being penetrated by a cock." Momo said in an uneasy tone.

"First time by a cock? Has someone shoved something else in you?"

"Well ... My roommate Sana and I have had lesbian sex every now and then and she has shoved her fingers deep in me before."

I was a little surprised to hear Momo has had lesbian sex before. I thought if someone would be the one to have sex with her first it would be one of the popular boys in college like Lee Felix or Jeon Jungkook.

"So I'm your first guy?" I said as I started to slide my cock into Momos warm pussy.

"Ah ~ yes Y/N your cock is the first cock to enter my pussy."

Hearing Momo moans made me go crazy and it made me want to go rough on her. I started I increase my speed and the sounds of me slamming into Momo could probably be heard from the floor above us.

Momos pussy hugged my cock so tightly it felt like it cut off the blood flow to it. I struggled to even move my cock in her. I smacked Momos ass and left my hand print on it.

"How about you shake that ass for me Momo?"

Momo started to shake her ass and I couldn't help but to continue smacking her ass. Seeing her ass jiggle and get redder every time I smacked it was something I couldn't get enough of and I kept going until Momos ass went fully red.

I ended up cumming into Momo. I filled Momo with a big thick load of cum it almost leaked out of her pussy. I grabbed my cum and put it back into her pussy so it didn't go to waste.

I went back to the side Momos head was and saw that she was covering her mouth.

"Why are you covering your mouth?"

"I didn't want people to hear me."

"Why not I think everyone should hear your pretty moans."

"Don't say that Y/N." Momo looked away from me as she said that.

"So are you gonna get me out now?"

"How about you give me a boob job first."

"Make it quick."

I swiftly took Momos shirt off and saw how tightly her bra was squeezing her tits.

"How about we set these free Momo?" I said as I started playing with her tits with my hands.

"Mhm yes Y/N please take my bra off for me."

I unhooked Momos bra and shoved my face between her breasts. They felt extremely soft and I started to lick them. They tasted like heaven I couldn't get enough of them.

Momo tried to cover her mouth again but I grabbed her wrists to stop her.

"Let me hear your pretty voice Momo. Most people are sleeping at this hour so don't bother covering your moans."

"Agh ~ Y/N keep licking them."

I went back to licking Momos boobs and squeezed them. I pinched Momos nipples and she yelped.

"Y/N that hurts!"

I eventually pulled my face away and started to put my cock in between her soft boobs.

I grabbed both of her tits and squeezed them on my cock. I moaned from the pleasure I felt and started moving her tits up and down on my cock.

I kept going but I felt like I was about to cum. I didn't want to cum on her boobs as it would definitely spill onto the floor.

Momo how about we get you out of here and into my room?

"That'd be great Y/N let's go."

I dressed Momo back up and then helped push Momo free. Afterwards I led her to my dorm room where I was still able to hear Yeji and Chaewon going hard with their karaoke.

I led Momo to my room and we went back to kissing each other. We helped each other take our clothes off and went back to fucking each other.

We did a few more rounds with each other making each other cum.

Out of nowhere Chaewon barged through the door

"Hey Y/N wanna join- WHAT THE FUCK?"

Me and Momo looked at Chaewon and we felt embarrassed. I guess we were so focused on each other that we didn't notice they stopped singing there karaoke.

"I can explain-" but before I could mutter another word Yeji suddenly came into the room also.

"Chaewon what's wrong ... WAIT WHY IS MOMO BEING FUCKED BY YOUR ROOMMATE?!"

Both Yeji and Chaewon started screaming at me. I wasn't able to make out what they were saying but suddenly Haewon entered the room.

"Y/N you never came to my dorm are you-"

Haewon looked at me and Momo on the bed naked, then looked at Yeji and Chaewon before speaking.

"Am I interrupting something important?"

--------------------------------------------------------

Stay tuned for part 2 where they all fuck each other (I won't post a part 2)

I was gonna originally name it "Getting revenge on my bully stuck in a wall" But that's just way too long and I didn't end up leaning into the whole "Momo being a bully" thing as much.

#twice smut #momo smut #kpop smut #fanfic #girl group smut #twice ff #twice imagines #twice #twice x reader #yeji #haewon #smut #chaewon

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parfaitblogs · 5 months ago

Text

peace ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you self isolate, and spencer knows better than to let it get too bad.

pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: hurt/comfort tags: established relationship. suicide ideation? ("i want it to end"). depression. lots of stuff that coincides with that. brief mention of reader not eating/having no food. please be aware of your triggers. i think i mention reader as a girl somewhere? word count: 1.9k a/n: i finished this then relistened to peace (taylor swift) which was the og inspo for this, and added a section in the middle so if it feels weird its because i failed at integrating it! this was supposed to be out two days ago. all my relationship insecurities in a fic. lol how embarrassing here's my heart tumblr dot com!! anyways enjoy ily all

also posted here on my ao3 !

Three consistent raps against your front door was the only sound that got you up that day, pyjamas that you had not shed from your body in a week hanging off a frame that could probably be described as lifeless — with the nearly dead-looking face to match.

In fact, the only thing to prove you were still a living human being aside from your movement, was the pink hue around your eyes, on your nose, and above your lips, indicating how much you had cried recently.

Usually, it isn't this bad. You just need a day or two of rotting in your apartment and doing nothing but scrolling on your phone until it died, staring at the wall, or — on the better days — watching reruns of a 90s sitcom that you don't really watch.

But it was exceptionally bad this time around, for some odd reason, and not one part of you actually wanted to get up and out of bed for long enough to be productive about your day. Your phone had died again, after charging it two days ago, which meant you were on day six of no communication with anybody. Which might partly be why it was so bad now.

You had a blanket wrapped around your body, dragging against the floor as you wiped your eyes and let out a small sigh, unlocking your front door and opening it, completely unsurprised by the person standing on the other side.

He was the only one who ever paid enough attention to your disappearing act when you were like this.

His eyes softened at the sight of you — which is kind of amusing, considering you thought you looked like death reincarnate currently.

Neither of you said anything as you stepped aside to allow him in, the door clicking shut behind him as he placed down the leather bag he had slung over his body, turning back to you as he finally allowed the frown to appear — one you knew he would've had the entire way here.

"Have you eaten today?" was the first thing to break the silence — the question coming out so gentle you were sure you'd break down again at some point in the next few seconds.

You wordlessly shook your head, and he nodded his own, saying nothing else as he walked into your kitchen, knowing you'd trail behind him no matter what.

He opened your fridge first, before closing it when he was greeted with the alarming sight of nothing. Doing the same with your pantry, at which he turned around to look at you.

"Angel, you have no food," he said. And while it held no malice in the tone of his voice, you could tell he was slightly annoyed at the fact. Your heart ached.

"I know. I'm sorry," you mumbled, and his eyebrows creased inwards.

He didn't mention your apology — arguing with you about your vast use of 'sorry's' is futile. "Do you want a pizza?" he asked instead, and even though you, mentally, did not, you knew he wasn't actually asking. So you only nodded your head, and found a place at your countertop, the blanket falling from your body and pooling to the ground in a heap.

He ordered a pizza, and then he was nudging your knees apart, standing between them while you stayed sat on a stool, his chin atop your head, that was buried into his chest.

And he said nothing, as he held you like that until the pizza arrived. And then he ensured you had at least eaten two slices, the remainders going in your fridge for the next meal you needed to eat.

He was so kind to you, with his every movement, as he dragged you into the bathroom to help you shower.

It was heartbreaking, the love you could see in his eyes. The tenderness in every stroke of his fingers against your scalp as he washed your hair, the softness in his touch as he did the same to your body. He gently dried you, told you to stay there, disappeared, and returned with one of his many t-shirts left in your apartment drawers.

That was when you cracked. When he pulled the shirt over your head, that smelled so painfully Spencer and you. The mix of his clean scent and your own laundry detergent that you were so accustomed to, triggering something in you.

So, you crumpled to the floor of your bathroom, and he followed soon after, his arms wrapped around your body once more, firm enough to keep you still as you sobbed into his chest.

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that for. Long enough for your head to hurt, and your eyes to sting, and hideous snot bubbles to stain his cardigan.

When your sobs subsided, he spoke.

"You wanna talk about it?" he said, quietly, and you shook your head.

"Don't know what to talk about," you mumbled, and he knew that all too well.

He nodded his own head. "Did something happen?"

"Lots of little things."

"Yeah? You wanna tell me about them?"

You hesitated, because you didn't know where to begin. But then you nodded your head wordlessly, swallowing the lump — and, by extension, the sob — in your throat. "I fell down on the stairs at the train station in front of everybody. And then I missed my stop, and I was late to work. And I had a huge project due, but I didn't finish it, and I forgot I hadn't finished it, and I was anxious about it all day. And I think my friends are just pretending to be my friends, because I keep trying to make plans with one of them, and she keeps blowing me off for her boyfriend. And I'm just really sick of being sad all the time, Spencer. I want it to end."

With the onslaught of your bad vignettes throughout the past month coming back up, you broke down, again. Another sob escaping your lips as you pushed your fists down into the tops of his thighs.

If it hurt, he didn't say anything; simply continued to hold you against his chest, on the floor of your bathroom, that, if it were any other time, he would be having a field day rambling about the germs you both were currently sitting on.

He also didn't say anything for a while as you sobbed, instead his fingers entangled gently in your hair, and he peppered kisses along the top of your head.

"I don't want it to end for you," he finally said. His hands slid down from your scalp to your face, holding your cheeks with such tender, pulling you back so he could look at you.

You sniffled. "I'm so exhausted."

"I know, my love. I know," he sighed, thumbs caressing over your cheekbones. "Ending it won't fix that. You know, logically, however you die is the state you'll be in, in the afterlife. So if you die while you're exhausted..."

"You don't believe in the afterlife," you answer, but his words still cracked through your tearful expression, and your lips twitched with a small smile.

He returned the small smile, nodding his head. "That's true. But I also don't know anything about post-death. I could be wrong."

"How terrible," you mutter, and he laughed, quietly.

"I know," he mused, falling silent for a few moments longer, with only both of your quiet breathing to break the silence.

His fingers ran through your hair once more, and you sniffled audibly, your brain wandering away from the small content you had felt in that exchange, and back to one of the many reasons why you had isolated in the first place.

"Why are you still with me?" you said, slicing through the silence all at once.

You watched the smile fall, and his eyebrows furrowed, and his lips part as he went — and hesitated — to say something. "What do you mean?"

"I'm difficult." Your voice is impossibly small, and it breaks a crack in his heart as his eyes soften.

"No. You're not," he reassured.

"Yes I am," you breathed out — and then the tears came back. "I get sad and then I stop responding and stop seeing you, and you don't get any warning even though I know you should, and I feel so awful every time but then that makes me feel worse. And I'm sad all the fucking time, Spencer. I mean, I get upset when you aren't at home and you have to deal with all those messages and calls even though you hate texting, but then you get home and I'm isolating myself because I'm sad, on top of all the other things that make me sad, and you deserve better. You deserve someone who can give you their all and—and—"

"Hey," he cut you off, as did the sob that was ripped from your throat. "No. That's not what we're going to do. Do not sit there and tell me what I do and don't deserve."

"But you do deserve better."

"No," he sighed, resting his forehead on your own, warm breath fanning across your face that usually made you scrunch your face up and pull away, now comforting you. "Do you love me?"

"What? Yes, of course I do. Why would you even—"

"—That is the only requirement I have for you," he said, oh so simply. When you didn't reply, he pressed, "Okay?"

"Okay," you murmured, and he relaxes a little.

More silence fell between you, your tears subsiding and your shaking body relaxing a little more.

Then, "Did you hurt yourself when you fell down?"

You nodded your head, reluctantly pulling back from him so you could show him. You pointed to a yellowing bruise just below your knee, and the grazes on the bottom halves of your palms.

"Oh, wow. Look at these," Spencer said, running a thumb gently over the grazes on your hands. "You're braver than me. These would've taken me out."

You laughed, and you saw his face light up at the progress he was making with you, and your mood.

He then pulled you back into his chest. More silence, but less anxiety, and you sat comfortably in his arms for a few moments longer.

"Did I worry you?" you say. "Not responding?"

You were so close to him you could hear his breath hitch, and you prepared yourself for a lie about how he wasn't worried at all. Except; "Honestly? Yes."

"Oh."

He exhaled, shakily, and you were kind of glad he couldn't see your sadder expression, half-buried into his chest.

"You've never gone that long without checking in," he then explained. "The first two days I got what was going on. By the fourth I figured you still needed space. Today I just had a gut feeling."

"Just a gut feeling?" you echoed, and you felt his head nod against your own.

"Thought you might need someone."

You sighed. "I hate that you're a genius."

"No you don't."

"No, I don't."

His fingers entangled in your hair again. "I also didn't figure you needed me here because I'm a genius."

"No? Then how?" you asked.

"It's simple," he murmured, tugging your head back oh so gently so he could look at you again — puffy eyed, and tear-stained cheeks and all. "I just know."

"That's the most illogical sentence I've ever heard leave your mouth."

He laughed, and you smiled again.

"Come on," he then said, untangling your limbs and pulling the both of you up to your feet, hands ghosting your waist to hold you steady. "I am willing to sit through whatever awful movie you want me to watch."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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slayfics · 10 months ago

Text

Katsuki joins you in the bath.

Warnings: Katsuki aged up | NSFW themes

800 words~

The warmth of the bath surrounded you as you took another sip of your wine. It was nice to finally be at home and done with the day.

You jumped slightly hearing your front door open and close. You hadn't been expecting anyone over, which caused you to panic until the loud stomps immediately became recognizable.

Katsuki.

He walked into the bathroom, a smirk spreading on his lips at seeing you laid out in the bath with a glass of wine.

"I wasn't expecting you to stop by today," you said, taking a sip of wine.

"Got off early- thought I'd come to say hi," He explained.

"You know that key I gave you to my place was supposed to be for emergencies... not that I'm complaining though," You winked.

Katsuki stood for a few moments taking in the sight of your exposed skin. Silently he cursed the bubbles in the bath that hid the rest of you.

"You look comfortable," he said.

"I am, you should join me," you said, waving the glass of wine that was dangling between your fingers.

"If I join you that water is going everywhere," He laughed.

"I got a mop," you said, taking another sip while your eyes met his, daring him to follow through.

Katsuki chuckled, ripped off his shirt and threw it aside, then worked at his buckle to undress the rest of himself. You watched him taking slow sips enjoying as he peeled all the layers of his clothing off and dropped them to the floor.

"Careful what you wish for," he said before stepping in behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist bringing you up against his chest as he laid behind you in the bath. Water and bubbles spilled out of the tub splashing out onto the bathroom floor.

You laughed at his playfulness and rested your head back against his chest. Katsuki lowered his head to rest on top of yours, nuzzling his cheek slighting into your damp hair. You moved your hand from under the water to run through his hair.

The room was silent except for the sound of settling bubbles and dripping water until Katsuki said in a voice barely above a whisper, "This is nice."

You nodded slightly agreeing.

Katsuki found himself getting lost in the warmth of the bath and the soft feel of your skin beneath his hands. Everything was rough outside of here, but at this moment he felt calm. The stress and loud thoughts that always plagued him were silenced for a moment. Being around you reminded him of the same feeling he gets from hiking. Tranquil, he thought.

"How was work?" You asked bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Shitty," he responded shortly. "You?"

"Shitty," you responded with a giggle escaping your lips. "It's good to see you though," You said. Katsuki didn't respond but tightened his grip around your waist ever so slightly indicating to you he felt the same.

"How long do you get to stay?" You asked.

"I have another patrol at 6 am so... not long," he said solemnly.

"Hm- did you eat?" You asked.

"No... You got stuff in the fridge, right? I'll make something." He spoke.

"Nu-uh," You said and reached out of the tub to grab our phone on the counter. "I'll order something, that way we can spend some time together while we wait for the food," you winked.

Katsuki let out a low chuckle," Not gonna argue with that, but-" Katsuki grabbed your phone out of your hand. "I'm picking what we eat, none of that unhealthy crap you like to order," he said, scrolling through your ordering app with one hand while the other was still squeezed tightly around your waist.

"You're staying the night?" You asked while holding your breath, hoping he wouldn't try to rush out too soon.

Katsuki didn't answer at first. He finished up the order and set your phone at the edge of the tub. Placing his head back on top of your head, he wrapped his other arm around you again, squeezing you tightly into his chest again.

"Yeah," He finally spoke, and you felt yourself relax against him.

"You need clothes? I still have some extras you left. I made sure to wash them for you," You offered.

"Thanks," he said. "I'll clean up this water for you- mops in the hall closet, right?" He asked.

"Yup- and when you're done moping... you can come try to get your clean clothes from me," you said playfully.

"HA? You're gonna make me mop with my dick out?!" He exclaimed.

"Well... I do like a show," You laughed.

"Tch- get ready then. It's show time," he said, and then grabbed you, lifting you out of the water in his arms. Your laughter filled the room.

Tags: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango

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razzle-n-dazzle · 10 months ago

Note

saw u wanted more Adam fics

Adam x f!reader

reader is trying to sleep but Adam keeps trying to show her and tell her stuff. “Like babe hey babe look at this!”

“Babe babe wait did I tell you?”

“Babe holy shit wait guess what!!”

*meanwhile she screams into her pillow*

ᯓ★ "Adam, Love, SHUT THE F-" Adam / Reader | Drabble-ish

ᯓ Do you know those days where you just need a little piece and quiet? Like after a long day of work, where your boss was being unreasonable and your coworkers were being even more unbearable than usual. A long day when you go out to eat for lunch and yet the place you decide to go is busy more than usual, and of course it's on the one day you just wanted an easy meal, so you decide to sit and wait. What is the harm of that? Apparently, a lot. Especially when everyone has a stick shoved up their ass today, and when running over your lunch would have been understood and excused any day sparked a fire from Hell in Heaven. And it was only my five minutes! You were late to the office by five minutes despite having been sitting, waiting for lunch for twenty out of your thirty allotted minutes, and doing work to be ahead of schedule for your boss! You were late by five minutes because the sidewalks had been unreasonably crowded for that time of day and you had sprained your wing rushing not to be late earlier that morning because your boyfriend wanted to be up your ass for an extra five minutes this morning!

ᯓ Safe to say you just proved that there could be bad days in Heaven, no matter what anyone else said and you desperately needed a nap. Or maybe you just needed to knock out for the rest of the day, you weren't sure, all you knew was that your bed was calling your name and that was the only thing on your mind right now. Well, it had been the only thing on your mind until you stepped foot into your shared apartment. "Oh perfect fucking timing, Sugartits, come here!" Adam, with an obnoxious amount of energy today, waved you down to the couch. "Hurry up! You know I love to see that ass move when it walks, but this is super fucking important." And what could entertaining your boyfriend before you went and knockout for the rest of the night do? You mean, it was only thing he wanted to show you.

ᯓ "Fucking, look. Look!" Adam exclaimed as you heavily sat down next to him, allowing for him to cheekily swing an arm around your shoulder. This promptly led him to lean against you as he stuck his phone out, a video pulled up. You watched it to entertain him and his little fancy for whatever he had found; Being able to snuggle into his side in the process and listen to his hysterical laughter during the whole venture. It wasn't nothing too exciting, some sort of slapstick humor video and you understood why Adam found it hilarious, but you just didn't have the energy to laugh at it today. So you gave him a small chuckle as his arm found itself crossing down your back and wrapping around your hip, his hand resting on your thigh. "Oh fucking shit! You see, now that shit if fucking humor, comedy gold!" You needed whatever acid trip Adam was on and desperately.

ᯓ You would hum briefly in agreement towards his statement, feeling as his chest quickly rose and fall as he choked out laughter. Even with such motions you couldn't help but be drawn in by his warmth, snuggling closer to him. And you're sure he noticed, as he was sneakily trying to coax you more and more, using the hand that now was daringly close to your ass, to sit on his lap. Against his harsher, more lively breath, yours was slower and shallow, and as Adam managed to get you to snuggle up to his chest while on his lap, he took notice. It was hard to not to, especially when the sound of you not laughing with him just hit his ears. So confused, Adam would pear down at you. A few nervous bits of laughter left him, a silent signal for you to take notice of how he noticed your odd behavior, yet he died down as you didn't seem to notice (or care) much. Which caused his eyes to narrow and his eyebrows to frown up, a worried frown tugging onto the side of his lips. "Uh, Babe, you good?" His question was accompted by his gravely voice, which was now lower in volume and a lot less sure of himself. "You didn't fucking laugh at the video."

ᯓ "You do know this is comedy gold right? Gold! Not laughing at it would be a fucking crime." Adam would wave his cellphone near your face, flashing you with the bright light which caused you to promptly turn your head away from him. He noticed as your face scrunched, yet you didn't use your wings or hands to knock the phone out of his hand like usual. And that's when he really started to become concern. You weren't acting as you normally would with him, you weren't laughing at the videos he founded or retorting to his antics with your own. You were just laying there, curled up onto his lap with droopy wings and a weak hold around his chest. "Holy shit, Babe, you're not dying are you?" Was the first thing that blurted out of Adam's mouth, being the first thing thought that crossed his head as finally took a real notice of how bad of a state you're in. How the feathers on your wings seemed all out of sorts, how one wing was a little more puffed than the other, how eyebags had began to form under your eyes, and just how tired and weak you looked.

ᯓ "...and you're not getting fucking ugly either are you? It's not contagious is it? Because I can't be fucking ug-" You were swift to cut Adam off, pressing one of your hands against his mouth to muffle any more stupid shit he had to say in this moment. To which Adam drew back a little and started down at you, a moment of shock before unamusement crossed his face. He was gentle, more so than usual, as he picked up your hand by the wrist and drug it away from his mouth. Though he didn't say anything for a good moment, silently (and a little anxiously) waiting to see if you would say anything to him. And maybe it was the nerves on being the on the battle field too many times, or the anxiety of losing another lover, but Adam grew more and more disturbed at your lack of communication or movement the longer the silence wore on. "Babe," He gently nudged you, watching as you just let yourself roll back into place. You didn't even give a hum that time. Now Adam could feel his stomach doing little backflips. "Babe." This one came out a bit more stern as he nudged you a little harder. Yet, you only rolled back into place, not acknowledging his efforts on trying to make sure you weren't dying. Were you fucking dying? Holy shit, that would not be something Adam would want to go through today. "Babe! Sugartits!" Adam shouted, forcefully shoving you away from his warmth by the shoulders, "Please fucking tell me you're not about to die on me because that would be really fucking traumatic!.. If you're going to die at least do it in like, the bedroom or something!"

ᯓ You knew Adam didn't mean it, that he was just trying to stir a reaction out of you to make sure you were alright, yet his comment kind of pissed you off. Less so than when he forcefully drew you away from your only source of heat and comfort from the cruel reality you had to live today. So, reluctantly, you gave our a murmur, "...tired... shut up.." and forcefully tried to lay against Adam again; Trying to just take a small nap, or simply hide from the day you had today in your boyfriend's arms and warmth. Even if one of his hands had been resting on your ass. "Babe, you can't be fucking tired, it's not even dinner. Who the fuck is going to cook because last time I fucking remember you telling me I couldn't." Adam asked in a huff, though was silently relieved that you weren't just about to die in his arms like some dramatic soap opera. So, he let you lay back against his chest. It felt nice to have your weight there anyways. "Adam... shush.." Again, you tried to hush your rather obnoxious boyfriend, even for a little. And you knew he knew that you were tired, on the verge of passing out; It was a dead give away when he fluffed out his wings and wrapped them around you, noticing had dead you felt against him.

ᯓ "But you're still fucking making dinner though, right?" He would quip, a snicker growing on his dumb face as he leaned down to the side, promptly laying you both down. Now you knew he was just being a dick about it, that or he was just glad that you weren't silently suffering and dying against his chest. But either way, you were going to leave his question unanswered as you buried his head against his chest. No matter how much shit Adam might give you, you always found comfort in his warmth and with him being near. It was kind of like having an annoying dog that looked and sounded all tough and scary and was sometimes a big dick, but secretly cared about you under all the gunk. "Fuck it, I'll just order in." Adam muttered, placing his chin on the top of your head (having to curl around you a little to do so) as you were sure he began to pull up menus of restaurants nearby that delivered. And as you drifted off to sleep, you liked to believe he did so, so you didn't have to worry about cooking when you woke up. But you knew that was only half the truth, the other half was that he was probably craving those lamb chops he absolutely adores. And you were fine with that.

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lulujeno · 3 months ago

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them as your older brother, finding out you have a crush on one of their members

— nct dream ᡣ𐭩

cw : some of them question ur taste in men but thats overall it, just some playful banter :D

a/n : really nervous for my exam tmr so i wrote this to calm me down ^^ gender neutral as always but it's a little shorter than my other one, hope you guys enjoyyyt <3

mark:

your crush on renjun wasn't that obvious at first

well that was until your youtube search history betrayed you

mark was borrowing your laptop one day and was so confused when the most recent searches was just renjun

"renjun fancam" "renjun cute moments" "renjun being mad at dreamies"

didn't put two and two together just yet but it was at the back of his mind for sure

would call you to visit the dreamies more often to see if his assumption was right okay scooby doo

you'd bring snacks and drinks most of the time, somehow always getting renjun's favourite stuff

texted you the moment he was sure that you do have a crush on his bandmate

you admitted it and since then he's been the #1 y/njun shipper

gives you updates about renjun

if it isn't obvious enough, he does approve of junnie (maybe a little too much)

renjun:

came to him one day for help since you were thinking of confessing to haechan

looked directly into your eyes and tells you you can do better than haechan

"haechan? of all people??"

proceeded to tell you that he already knows about your little crush

would tell you things that haechan likes or dislikes, even though he looks like he disapproves

secretly happy that its someone he knows really well and not some random douche

you'd notice jun's little ways of helping you get with your crush

you give him a small smile and he'd mouth to thank him later

would still nag to you because he really can't see what you see in his bandmate

"whatever makes you happy"

don't worry, he approved of haechan after seeing the way he treats you

jeno:

tried to act surprise when you said you found mark interesting

you hit him jokingly because of how bad his acting was

teases you about your crush

when you visit the dreamies he does that thing with his eyebrows and makes it really obvious that you like his bandmate

but for real though, he'd be really supportive and actually try to help you out

would still give you the 'don't get your hopes up' talk since he doesn't want you to be heartbroken

happy that you came to him for help with your little crush (you? not so happy because he's so obvious)

"mark did you see y/n's new hair?" "mark doesn't y/n smell good today?" "mark you're not gonna give y/n a hug too?"

you want to smack jeno every time he does it thank god mark lee is oblivious as hell

haechan:

thought that you were joking when you said like jaemin

realised that you were serious and suddenly theres plan a all the way till z to get you and jaemin together

one of then was to lock you both in a closet (in hopes that it ends with you guys kissing ONLY)

like jeno, tells you to not get your hopes up too high since the last thing he wants is to see his sibling cry over a MAN.

still questions why you like jaemin though, he thinks that that guy is weird

tried to tell you things to give you the ick about jaemin but it doesn't work

at one point he got too tired waiting for you to confess so he told jaemin himself

don't worry, he told you when he was going to spill the beans (yeah like 5 seconds before he said it)

jaemin:

jisung?? of all people??? that boy can't even take care of himself, how would he take care of you?

gives you a whole ted talk on why you should go for a real man like mark or jeno instead

ends up seeing what you see in jisung though

tall? deep voice? big hands? can dance? that ticks off everything in your list!

the talk ends with him being supportive and brainstorming ideas on how to make you guys a real couple

would straight up tell jisung that you like him

probably gave jisung a whole protective brother talk that scared the poor guy

tells you that it's the only way because things need to be clearly said to jisung or else he'd be too shy to initiate anything

asks for cat food in return if everything works out because he has children to feed!

chenle:

be fr, zhong chenle knows everything

so when you told him that you like jeno he did not bat an eye

tbh he was just waiting for you to admit it before going through with his plan

the plan? you accidentally tripping in front of jeno, landing on top of him, and kissing him

you just stand there thinking if your brother was actually stupid enough to think that it'll work

doesn't play when it comes to y/nno

but if jeno does end up liking you back suddenly chenle's favourite place is the gym

also doesn't play when it comes to protecting his sibling

warns jeno that if he breaks your heart then he will break other things!

jisung:

was appalled when he found out that you like chenle

chenle? zhong chenle?? his best friend of 8 years zhong chenle ???

give him a second to take it all in

finally connected the dots on why you keep asking for updates about chenle

would help you out in a subtle way

ways like making chenle sit beside you or asking chenle to call you instead of doing it himself

backfires soon after since he told chenle that you watch basketball

forgot to add in wives, you watch basketball wives not basketball itself

can't keep a secret for too long, especially one about chenle so give it 2 weeks tops before your crush finds out

fair to say it ended with both of them spamming you (one to apologise and the other? other reasons)

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ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral · 4 months ago

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Hello again everyone! Since the "Merlin accidentally conquers Camelot" au won the continuation poll, here's part 2!

NOTE: Part 1 can be found here!

EDIT: Part 3 can be found here!

As a quick recap of this au, during the season 4 finale Merlin was caught by Morgana while trying to plant the burning doll curse that would temporarily lock away her powers, and they have a magic battle that ends with both Morgana and her army slain. Merlin thought that no one saw what happened, but Camelot's lords who serve on the council secretly saw everything. So, when Arthur storms Camelot, ready to take back his throne, he's met with the news that Morgana's already dead and a new sorcerer has claimed the throne of Camelot through the right of conquest, and the lords have unanimously agreed to make this powerful sorcerer king in order to appease him. To everyone's shock, Geoffrey then puts the crown of Camelot on Merlin's head, and Merlin promptly passes out.

And now, onto the new stuff!

When Merlin finally woke up, he jolted awake with a start, frightened by what must have been a terrible nightmare! And truly, it was one of the most horrifying scenarios Merlin's sleeping mind had ever conjured to torture himself with: everyone finding out about his magic, Arthur thinking that Merlin betrayed him, and unintentionally stealing Arthur's kingship!

If the idea wasn't so frightening, Merlin would almost laugh at the absurdity of it: Merlin, king of Camelot! What nonsense! Merlin was Emrys, the other side of the coin to the king; he was certainly never meant to be king himself.

Still, the idea gave Merlin a slight chuckle as he climbed out of his bed and changed into his usual clothes, the soft light of the dawn flittering in through his window. Thank every god out there that his outfit didn't involve a crown!

After he finished tying his neckerchief and pulling on his boots, Merlin opened the door into the main area of Gaius's chambers, ready to eat a quick breakfast with Gaius before collecting Arthur's breakfast and starting his work for the day.

Stepping out into the main chamber, he couldn't find Gaius anywhere, but that wasn't too unusual, given how busy Gaius could be with sudden injuries or illnesses popping up in the lower town at all hours of the night. Humming a bit to himself, Merlin began fixing himself a small bowl of porridge in the chamber's cooking pot, making sure to leave an extra portion for Gaius whenever he returned from his duties.

Merlin ate his breakfast quickly, enjoying the birdsong outside and the beautiful sunrise. Yes, this was exactly what he needed to wash away the awful ideas that his nightmare had conjured up.

After cleaning up their dining table, Merlin made his way towards the door, ready go about his day and do his job as a manservant to moderately acceptable standards! Besides, on the heels of Morgana's invasion, Arthur would need a supportive friend far more than a manservant today.

As Merlin opened the door from Gaius's chambers, however, something was conspicuously different. Namely, the fact that there were two armed guards standing on either side of the door, standing with their backs to the door.

The two guards stiffened and stood at attention as soon as he opened the door, uncrossing their polearms so that they would not be blocking his path as he left Gaius's chambers. Merlin froze at the sight of the guards, staring at their backs. What... what was going on?

"Is... is everything alright? What's this about?"

Was it just him, or did the two guards somehow stiffen up even more at Merlin's words?

After a tense beat of silence, one of the guards cleared his throat and replied, "We were assigned to stand guard over these chambers."

Merlin's brows furrowed with confusion for a moment before he figured out what must have happened, realization dawning on his face.

"Oh, I see! Arthur must have increased security around the castle since Morgana's latest attack. I'm not sure why he considers the physician's quarters to be a potential target, but I'll ask him about it later. Well, I'd better get going or else I'll be late to wake the prat up. Say hello to Gaius for me when he gets back!"

The guards looks confused at his words and opened their mouths to call something out to Merlin, but Merlin was already down the stairs and halfway down the hall before either of them could blink.

Merlin got a lot more strange stares than usual today as he made his way towards the kitchens, with many people outright stopping to gawk at him as he passed. Did he have something odd stuck to his hair or something?

Merlin shrugged off the strange stares for now. He'd have time to look in a mirror and figure out what was so odd about how he looked later, after Arthur had eaten and gotten dressed.

Merlin was still a few minutes away from the kitchens when a caped figure emerged from a servant's passageway and barreled into him, drawing him into a sudden hug. Instinctively, Merlin tensed up at the perceived attack, but he quickly relaxed at the familiar smell of ale and apples that surrounded his laughing "attacker".

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you, Merls!"

Merlin sighed with both relief at seeing his friend in one piece and in high spirits, but also is exasperation.

"Gwaine, I'm very glad to see you again, but what are you doing here? You just spent a week in captivity under Morgana, you're supposed to be resting and recovering, not ambushing unsuspecting servants!"

Gwaine pulled back at Merlin's words, wearing a look of confusion as he studied Merlin's face.

"Ah, but I'm not ambushing a servant, am I?"

"Yes, yes, you're ambushing your friend, since friendship gives you more rights to pull stunts like this and give me more reason to worry over your health."

At that, Gwaine's face pulled into an outright frown, a rare sight to see on the perpetually-grinning knight. Merlin shifted around a bit nervously, unsure of what exactly was happening. Finally, Gwaine spoke again, this time very slowly and gently, as if he was trying to calm down a spooked horse.

"Merlin, what do you remember from yesterday? What was the last thing you remember before falling asleep?"

This time, it was Merlin's turn to frown in confusion at Gwaine's odd questions. What did any of that matter?

"Well, I suppose the last thing I remember was... was storming into the throne room with Arthur and Gwen and being informed of Morgana's death anything after that... I don't quite recall."

He must have hit his head or something after that point, because everything after that was what happened in his nightmare, and there was no way any of that was real. Right?

Merlin watched as Gwaine's frown pulled into a strained smile, his confusion only growing. What was Gwaine so nervous about?

"Well, Merls," Gwaine began, slinging an arm around Merlin's shoulders as he started to lead Merlin away from the kitchens, "a lot happened in between then and now, including some great news!"

Gwaine turned to face Merlin, his smile genuine and mischievous this time, and Merlin knew that grin. That was the grin Gwaine wore right before he was about to get himself into some trouble for a noble cause but would hide it under the guise of "fun".

Merlin sighed deeply, not awake enough to deal Gwaine's antics, even if they was coming from a good place.

"Alright, what's this news of yours?"

If it was possible, Gwaine's mischievous grin grew wider.

"For starters, I got a promotion!"

Merlin stopped in his tracks with shock, halting their walk to... wherever Gwaine was leading him.

"A promotion?! How? Why? What's your new title? Will you be leading other knights?"

Gwaine just shook his head, his hair whipping around and smile still present on his face. He started leading Merlin again as he answered Merlin's questions.

"I know, I had hardly believe it myself! But I took some initiative when it really mattered, and I landed myself this new job! It's not really a leadership role, but I might be leading some knights, and probably some guards too!"

Gwaine finally started to slow their march down as they reached what Merlin assumed was their destination: the doors to the main throne room, where Arthur took his audiences.

As Gwaine stopped before the doors, he turned to look at Merlin again, his smile still bright, but his eyes, Merlin noticed, growing strained again, like there was something greatly troubling him.

"You still haven't told me what this new job actually is though."

This time, Gwaine's smile faltered a bit, and Merlin knew at once that this new job was what was causing Gwaine so much inner turmoil. What job could possibly give Gwaine of all people so much stress?

"Ah, silly me, how could I forget! You'll want to hold onto something before I tell you this, because this will blow you away my friend! I got promoted..."

Gwaine leaned in close, almost like he was about to share a secret with Merlin. Merlin leaned in as well, curious about what position Gwaine's surprising promotion had been to.

"to the king's official bodyguard!" Gwaine revealed in a stage whisper, playing the moment up for dramatic effect in a very Gwaine-like manner.

Merlin jerked backwards in surprise, startled by such unexpected news, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

Arthur did seem to be stepping up security in the aftermath of Morgana's latest invasion, so it made sense for him to appoint a loyal and trusted knight to look after Arthur's own safety.

Merlin was strangely pleased with Arthur's decision on this. Arthur was finally prioritizing his own safety, and he had picked a great knight for the job! This might make Merlin's own secret job of protecting Arthur much easier! Gwaine would certainly take any of Merlin's warnings of danger to Arthur seriously, and he trusted Merlin enough that he wouldn't question where Merlin got any of his information.

Merlin smiled back at his friend, happy about both this new opportunity for his friend and about the changes it would bring. Yes, this was great!

"That's amazing Gwaine! Do you want to stop by the tavern tonight to celebrate?"

Gwaine laughed a bit at that, still looking oddly tense. For some unknown reason, apprehension started pooling in Merlin's stomach, telling him that something wasn't right here. No, there was something else going on.

"Thanks for the offer mate, but I'm afraid that it wouldn't be a good look for me to be seen drinking on my first night on the job. Besides, I have a feeling that you'll be a little busy this evening too."

Merlin's confusion only grew with each passing second.

"What do you mean by that?"

Gwaine didn't answer him, only giving Merlin a small, almost sad smile. It looked disturbingly out of place on the boisterous Gwaine, ratchetting Merlin's confusion and dread up even further.

Without another word, Gwaine turned and opened the doors to the throne room, revealing the entire council of lords congregated within, giving Merlin rather violent flashbacks to his nightmare.

No, no, nothing as disastrous as Merlin being publicly announced as a sorcerer and then getting crowned king in front of Arthur and Gwen could ever happen in real life. It was simply too absurd.

Merlin watched, frozen at the threshold of the room, as the lords' heads all turned towards the door at the sound of it swinging open. To Merlin's rising dread, they all rose from their seats at the sight of him.

No no no no....

Merlin frantically looked around, hoping to all of the gods of the Old Religion that Arthur was somewhere nearby, because the council only rose for the entrance of the king...

Merlin turned around, hoping to find Arthur standing around somewhere, anywhere, as dread began closing its claws around his heart, which was beating at the rating that Merlin would be concerned about if he could process anything other than his own all-consuming terror at that moment.

Because it wasn't a nightmare, was it? No, that was real. His worst fears had come to life in the most horrifying way possible, and he was powerless to stop it now.

If the lords of the council noticed Merlin's frantic terror, they didn't acknowledge it. Instead, apparently, they decided to only confirm Merlin's deepest fears. After a tense moment of utter silence in the room, broken only by Merlin's jagged breathing, Geoffrey finally stepped forward.

"Ah, welcome Your Majesty! I hope you're feeling better now after you've rested and recovered from your battle against Morgana. There is much to discuss concerning these first crucial days of your reign, including your public coronation, having all knights who are willing to renounce the Pendragon line swear their fealty to you, and determining the fates of those who already refuse to accept your rule."

For what felt like an eternity, Merlin simply stood there, his mind refusing to cooperate or even process what he was being told. He couldn't move a single muscle in his body, paralyzed by horror. He was only snapped out of his fugue state by Gwaine taking ahold of his arm and guiding him towards the table.

Inhaling sharply as he was pushed by Gwaine closer to the lords, he finally processed what Geoffrey had told him. Oh gods, a coronation?! So all of Arthur's kingdom could see how he had stolen Arthur's throne?! Forcing knights to turn their backs on Arthur and renounce their loyalty to him?! This was madness and, not to mention, the exact opposite of what Merlin wanted!

And what was that about punishing people for refusing to accept him as king? Hell, Merlin should reward the dissenters if anything, since they were apparently the only ones who still had any good sense left in this kingdom! Who in their right mind would immediately accept Merlin as their king anyway?!

Right, Merlin thought as his eyes wandered over the faces of the lords, spineless cowards with no loyalty who would turn their backs on their true king to save their own hides, that's who.

Well, the applied to the lords at least, but that still didn't explain what Gwaine was doing here, by Merlin's side, when he should be with Arthur and the other knights!

... Where were Arthur and the other knights?

A jolt of fear once again shot through Merlin, this time alongside guilt. Where was Arthur? What had happened to him? The council had foolishly stripped him of his title, and then what?

Clearing his dry throat, Merlin finally responded, "Geoffrey, what happened after I lost consciousness yesterday? Where is Arthur?"

After Merlin was finished speaking, the lords started shifting around nervously, which began to set of warning bells in Merlin's mind.

Something had happened after he fainted yesterday. Something that involved Arthur.

"Well, Your Majesty, following your loss of consciousness yesterday, the former King Arthur lost his temper and began yelling, shouting everything from accusing us of lies and treason to cursing out the sacred laws of the land. He then ran throughout the castle and began calling upon his knights for aid, explaining the situation to them in crude terms and demanding that they take back the crown from you by force."

Merlin grimaced at Geoffrey's monotone explanation, horrific visions of Arthur calling for his execution as a sorcerer and traitor running through his mind.

"Many of Arthur's knights rallied to his cause, but there were some who were hesitant to turn their blades against you, no doubt recognizing your power and your true claim to the throne. It was from that group that your loyal Sir Gwaine arose, leading a small group of knights and guards in a surprise attack that concluded with the former king and his knights locked in the dungeon cells, awaiting your judgement."

Merlin eyes flew wide at Geoffrey's words, his heading whipping around to meet Gwaine's gaze. Gwaine had betrayed Arthur in such a terrible way? For him?

In response to Merlin's horrified stare, Gwaine simply gave him his most innocent smile, as if nothing was wrong at all and Merlin's world wasn't crumbling around him.

No, this wasn't happening. Merlin had to fix this, and he had to fix it now.

"Look, Geoffrey, I am honored that you and the other lords feel so strongly that I am supposed to be Camelot's king, but that is not meant to be. I was never meant to rule over anything. This is Arthur's kingdom, and I will not be the one to take it from him."

All of the lords around the table look utterly confused, as if Merlin was speaking a completely different language. That was expected, Merlin supposed, if they had never seen anyone willingly give up power. Gwaine, however, just looked amused, like he knew that this was exactly what would happen.

"While that is a most gracious sentiment Your Majesty, I'm afraid that it isn't that simple."

Merlin groaned at Geoffrey's words, bemoaning the fact that the world could never let anything in his life be simple.

"Shouldn't it be?! I'm apparently the king now, so I order you to release Arthur and the knights from the dungeons and to give Arthur his kingship back!"

This time, it was Geoffrey's turn to sigh deeply, as the old man pulled a rather hefty- and dusty- scroll from his bag.

"This," Geoffrey began as he unrolled the yellowed parchment, "is Bruta's code, written by the Great King himself. This set of laws are the foundation on which all of the five kingdoms are governed, and Camelot is no exception. All kings of this Isle, no matter how powerful, are subject to these laws, lest the entire realm fall into anarchy."

Merlin was valiantly holding back the urge to bash his head into the council table. Why couldn't he clear this situation up as painlessly as possible?!

"The code addresses many subjects, and both the right of conquest and the rules of succession are outlined within. I'm terribly sorry Your Majesty, but the code clearly states that when a king who is not of royal blood ascends to the throne through the right of conquest, the previous royal family loses any and all claim to the throne, alongside their lands and wealth, essentially leaving them with no titles or claim to nobility at all. This measure was originally put in place to ban the defeated family from endlessly challenging the victor of the conquest in a bid to regain their former throne and wasting the new ruler's precious time."

Merlin's heart dropped even more at Geoffrey's words. Great, he had not only stolen Arthur's kingdom, but he had also stolen everything Arthur owned! Gods, what did Arthur hate Merlin more for at the moment, being a secret powerful sorcerer ever since they met or inadvertently stripping him of his title, lands, and all his possessions?

"I still don't see why this would forbid me from freely giving Arthur the throne back."

"Your Majesty, the former king is no longer a noble, as the Pendragon line is no longer recognized as a noble house. As such, Arthur is now, by law, a peasant, and it is against Bruta's code for a ruler to cede their throne to anyone but a noble for any period of time."

Merlin bit back a frustrated scream. Why, why?! Why couldn't he just make Arthur a noble again and be done with this farce and-

Wait a minute.

There was a way to make Arthur a noble.

Oh no, Arthur was going to hate this. But, Merlin steeled himself, this was the only way to make things right.

And that's all for now! I had a lot of fun making Gwaine the ultimate "ride or die" bestie for Merlin in this situation lol! I'll definitely be doing a part three of this au soon to resolve this cliffhanger!

Please let me know what you all thought of this continuation!

A huge thank you to everyone who supported my last au post and asked for this continuation! I'll try to tag you all here, my apologies if I missed anyone!

@cookie-player , @miyriu , @nebulousconstellationwriter , @insane-multifandom-brainrot , @elementalpirate4 ,

@tidalwavesandthunderstorms , @gaiussleechtank , @arrowlovesdragons , @lordmushroomkat , @bucketheadpunk14 ,

@retro-wallflower , @ryeallytired , @verxen , @mind-of-a-crow , @aostrek-236 ,

@thedragonkinproject , @orliththedragon , @theroundbartable , @my-own-quiet-corner , @tireddruid ,

@coffee-shop-gay , @sable-nakahara , @deadhotpocket , @bennedict , @samwinjester ,

@linotheghost , @aerismoon , @merthurogies , @ahumoki0 , @chairwiththreelegs ,

@achillesuwu , @pancakesandpigs , @the-king-and-the-druidess , @sugar-coated-prat-dragon , @isaidno ,

@justaz , @auldsusie

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

EDIT: A question for those of you I'm tagging, I'm not sure if this is a tumblr issue or if I'm screwing something up on my end, but after the first few tagged blogs, it shows up on my screen like the tags are just plain text and not linked to anything. So, for those of you that are tagged, can you confirm that you're getting a notification when I tag you? I want to make sure everyone who requested a continuation knows when it's posted!

2nd EDIT: I've tried to fix the tag problem, I'm very sorry if you already saw this post and then got a notification!

#merlin #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #arthur pendragon #merlin au #merthur #merlin prompts #king merlin #gwaine

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queers-gambit · 1 year ago

Text

Neon Sticky Notes

prompt: ( requested ) reminding your boyfriend you love him one sticky note at a time.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 2.4k+

note: baby gets what baby wants! God, do i hope this is what you want, my baby...

warnings: probably cursing, Carmy needs a nap, men being simps, this is short and sweet! it's FINALLY edited!!!

You knew he was struggling. Worn-out, beaten down, exhausted, run ragged, amuck, and into the ground.

It was evident in the way he carried himself; the prominent bags under his eyes, the way he tossed and turned in bed before being found on the living room couch in the morning. His hair seemed greasier then usual, his skin turning gaunt and grey, and you knew he wasn't making time to eat.

By comparison, you had a simple job, something corporate and in an office. Something that made decent money; something you were good at, something you could find pride in doing.

However, Carmy's job as a chef was different; being more than stressful, and while coupled together for years now, it was still a work-in-progress each time Carmen started on a new venture. Owning, running, and converting The Beef into something "better" should've been no different, only it was - it was totally different. Carmy was frazzled, looking deranged some evenings, as if operating on adrenaline, and you were at a loss on how to help.

So, you resorted to a natural instinct - communicating.

Carmy needed reassurance, he needed support, he needed to be loved for who he is, exactly how he was, in order to keep his head on straight. You never did mind the challenge that was Carmen Berzatto, finding him akin to a puzzle. So, on your way home from work one evening, you stopped at a CVS to grab a pack of neon, multi-colored sticky notes and a brand new Sharpie marker.

You had an idea.

When you got back to your shared apartment, you unloaded the groceries you needed onto the counters before calling Carmy. "Hey, Peaches," he answered on the third ring, usual kitchen clatter in the background, "everything okay?"

"Yeah, all good."

"Sure? Sound outta breath."

"The elevator's broken, I got groceries," you groaned, "and have been skipping the gym for a couple weeks."

He chuckled, "Never skip leg day, baby, you know it's our house motto."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever - hush. I'm just wondering if you had an ETA for tonight? I have an early morning meeting, so I want to go to sleep early."

"Uh," he trailed, a muffled ruffling sounding over the line before a small clatter that made him sigh, "yeah, um, you know what? I really don't know, baby, I'm sorry. You do your thing and I'll be quiet when I get in, just leave my stuff on the couch."

"No, come to bed," you whined slightly, "I miss you."

"Awh, yeah, miss you, too, Peach. I'll be there," he promised.

You finished putting all groceries away; the dishes following, then you got started on prepping dinner. Look, you were no cook - that was all Carmy. But you weren't totally useless in a kitchen, so, you didn't mind taking over most meals now that Carmy was waist-deep in The Beef's bullshit. You played music as you cooked, poured a glass of wine, danced around, and tried to think of a list of encouraging things to remind Carmy. You ate dinner alone, and when done with clean-up, faced off with your sticky notes and Sharpie.

The first note was scribbled and stuck on the covered plate in the fridge: Bone Apple Teeth, Chef!

Then you wrote a note to leave at the door where Carm was sure to drop his keys: make sure you eat the plate I left you!

Humming, you pondered a moment before smirking and writing a third note to be left on the TV remote: I know you too well. come to bed.

Lastly, you wrote a fourth and final note to be left in the bathroom: great job today, Chef! you're killing it!

You were fast asleep when he got home. He found the note in the key bowl, smirking at your kindness and thoughtfulness. Carmy saw the messily-drawn heart and pocketed the note, toeing off his shoes and entering the kitchen. He reheated the plate you left, pocketed the second note after a silent grin of amusement, and when ready, took his hot food to the couch.

Carmy laughed when he found your third note. He left it on the table as he ate, half-watching the news segment he flipped on. When he was full and his plate clear, Carmy turned the TB off, pocketed your note, set everything in the dishwasher, started it, and then went into the bathroom. Another soft chuckle emitted as he pulled the final note in his hand - and you already know he saved it.

When he got in your shared room, he made sure to leave the notes in a random shoe box, stashing it in his closet, changed for the night, and crawled into bed with you.

This was a regular occurrence now: Carmy came home late to a barrage of sticky notes, saved them all, then crashed in bed with you. You missed each other, but understood scheduling just didn't line up right now. It wasn't like you two never saw one another, you still did - but it wasn't like it was. Time together now felt fleeting, as if you had to savor everything, so you made the most of your situation.

Was it overcompensation? Possibly. But Carmy adored your notes.

Sometimes, you'll be sat in the living room, reading a book, working on your laptop, or scrolling Instagram on your phone, while he cooks and he finds a note left on the milk carton that reads: I am UDDERLY in love with you!

Get it? 'Cause cows have udders? You were pretty proud of that pun.

Other times, he'll be up at an unGodly hour, getting a steamy hot shower, and you'll come in to pee. He doesn't think anything of anything until he gets out of the stall only to see a neon orange sticky note on the counter, saying: i love your butt! lemme pinch it!

Carmy feels himself looking forward to your little surprises. Some were funny and a little vulgar, like the note found on the eggs: fertilize MY eggs!

Some notes were more innocent, like the one he found in his shoe one morning, reading: I'm so proud of you. have a great day today!

Some just said: be home for dinner @ 8! making your fav!

Others were found, saying: you're so fucking handsome. I'm one lucky ducky! You even tried to draw a little duck.

Some notes were motivational: you're doing a GREAT job, baby!

Some notes reminded: you have a dentist appt @ 10!

Some notes were sweet: call me during your break, cutie, i miss your voice!

And others found on the bathroom mirror were playful: you look too good today, go change! A second note added: don't need anyone looking at your fine ass! A third: i'm the only one allowed to look #respectfully

Each and every note had a drawn heart, being saved to a hidden shoebox. He found notes in his usual coffee mug, reminding him you loved him. He found notes on his toothpaste tube, telling him he was doing a great job. Cereal boxes now promised Carmy they were proud of him, pastas told him to have a great day, and the light switches assured reminded him how special he was.

The microwave told him you felt blessed to be his and in his jacket pocket, he was told how lucky you are to love him. Some notes swore to him he was one of a kind, others explicitly detailed what parts of him you wanted in parts of you, and a few reminded him of important dates, appointments, deadlines, anniversaries, birthdays, etc..

Sometimes, he found little treats with these sticky notes. Like when you had to make brownies for your little sister's bake sale, you left him a Tupperware full with a hot pink note, labeled: for the love of my life!

And then... One morning, when you got up for work, Carmy was already gone for his day. You went through your normal routine, entering the kitchen with the intention of making a to-go cup of coffee, only to pause and grin when a neon green sticky note greeted you from the stovetop. Written in messy, fresh, black Sharpie was: got you on my mind. love you, be home @ 6 tonight!

Carmy drew own heart and you beamed at the reciprocation. You didn't mind the distance for now, knowing he was busy and it wouldn't last forever; but the fact that he could reassure you as much as you could him warmed your heart. You felt like the Grinch when his heart grew in size, just without the painful grunting. If anything, you felt euphoric from his little note - thinking it was reassuring to still communicate even when your schedules differed.

The day passed sluggishly - only because you were actually excited to go home. Ironically, your last client of the day didn't leave until a little later than scheduled, so, when you FINALLY got off work and made it home, Carmy had beaten you. When you got through the door, you were met with a heavenly aroma; using Gandalf's advice and following your nose to enter the kitchen.

You sighed dreamily when you came to a halt in the doorway, bottom lip trapped between your teeth to attempt and restrain your ecstatic grin. Carmy was shirtless at the stove, stirring a pasta dish to coat it in the sauce of his choice. "Hi, pretty peach," he beamed at you.

"Oh, I've missed this sight," you squealed, rushing to his side to throw your arms around his neck. "Hi, baby, hi, baby, hi, baby," you chanted between chaste kisses to his cheek.

"Someone missed me," he laughed, cheeks blooming a bright red - but not from the kitchen heat.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in forever, and you know I don't do well alone, I need attention," you teased with a pout, his arm slithering around your waist - but a crinkle noise caught your attention. "Woah, hey. Did you get a new tattoo?" You pondered, looking down at his arm that was protectively bandaged.

He smirked and held his arm out, "Wanna take the plastic off for me?"

"What'd you get?"

"Find out," he whispered, staring at you with his intense baby blue eyes; waiting as you calculated your next move. Slowly, you reached out and unwrapped the protective cling wrap, getting to the gauze, then slowly peeling that from his skin.

"Ohhh, my fucking God," you whispered.

"Like it?"

"Are these... My hearts?"

He nodded, "I got 6 of them from your notes tattooed. 'Cause we've been together six years. Figured, each year, I could add one - but you gotta draw it."

"You're ridiculous," you laughed, in minor disbelief. "What made you do this?"

He eased, "You. I've never felt so confident in my life before, and I know you're a huge part of that. It feels right, being with you feels right and I wanted to show you that I see and appreciate all you do." His tone softened, "I wouldn't be me without you, Peach."

"You'd still be Carmy."

"A totally different Carmy, though," he chuckled. "I actually like who I am with you, baby. But look here, I know it's been real hectic lately, sweet girl, with the restaurant, but it's not gonna be like this forever. We're makin' progress, we're gonna get this settled."

"I know," you assured, "'cause if anyone's gonna get this done, it's you. Just don't forget to breathe every now and then - you're drowning in this stress and I need you to stay afloat, Carm."

"I'm good, Peaches, got you on my team so I can't lose," he eased, tucking you into his chest for an embrace. After a minute and a tight squeeze, he sighed, pecked the crown of your head, then mumbled, "Why don't you go wash up? Dinner's almost ready."

You agreed, stealing one last (prolonged) kiss before scampering off to the bedroom. When you got there, you almost tripped when you came to a halt; laughing loudly as the entire bed was covered in an array of neon colored sticky notes. Until you got closer and realized each note detailed a different reason Carmy loved you; from the way you search for him in your sleep to how you resembled a Gremlin if not fed within certain hours. From how you weren't afraid to dress up for the Renaissance Festival to how you throw blankets in the dryer for 15 minutes before movie nights. In fact, "movie night" was on a single note, being a fond yet routine date. You read each note carefully, tears wanting to build but you refused to let them, yet it was difficult when this was the sweetest gesture you've ever known.

Even things you were insecure about, like dimples or weight or hair color, was highlighted as a reason Carmy loved you. He listed your authenticity, generosity, thoughtfulness, charisma, incredible brain but even bigger heart. He praised your wit, your humor; adored your sneezes, and looked forward to coming home every night because he knew he was coming home to you.

You've never felt so loved before, wondering if this was what Carmy felt each time he found one of your notes.

Movement caught your peripheral, and when you looked up, Carmy was leaning in the doorway of the bedroom; arms crossed and lips pulled in a small smirk. He didn't speak, he just stared at you. You were at a loss for words, opening and closing your mouth twice; holding most of the sticky notes in your hands, but then, you settled on telling him simply, "I love you so fucking much, Carmy."

Dinner might've allegedly burned that night, but so did your love and passion for one another. Even the smallest of gestures can go farther than we anticipate, and showing someone you care could be as simple as leaving them notes around the apartment you cohabitate in, on neon colored Post It's.

Wanna know the cool thing about adult relationships? You get to love your partner out loud; being unapologetic in how you emote, and in return, you're loved by them. Each person deserves to be loved in the way they want to be loved - but you know how fucking great it is when two lovers respond to the same language? What I mean is, it could be considered rare that you, who liked to leave notes, would meet and fall in love with someone who liked to collect and read those notes. Your love language was the same as Carmy's, part of the reason you both worked so well together - but also why one day, he'd add plenty more hand drawn hearts to the collection on his forearm.

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The Bear masterlist

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