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httpsserene · 4 months ago

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Hello hello! How are you?

I wanted to request a Yuki Tsunoda one-shot before you close your inbox.

I was thinking of a GN!Driver!Reader (if possible) and Yuki going out for a stroll after the Japanese GP in which the reader got P1. Yuki is showing them around, local places to dine and such... Seeing them be so interested in his ramblings he starts to realize some stuff and decides to act on it!

Please and thank you! Have a nice day! ☀️

𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 - 𝐲𝐭. 𝟐𝟐

summary: yuki's private tours include exclusive features, just for you. pairing: yuki tsunoda x gn!driver!reader (reader's race/ethnicity/appearance is not described but, they're bi-poc < 3)

2.7k words. oneshot & smau. yuki pov. fluff. feelings realization. pre-relationship. explicit language. alcohol consumption. flirtation. horny thoughts. author's never been to suzuka (or anywhere in japan) but did a little research for this. i apologize for anything that's incorrect or inaccurate :) requested by @anicega < 3

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. serene returns with a yuki fic/smau she was hoping to post in celebration of him being promoted to RB...have this as consolation instead. belated happy holidays and happy new year, 2025 will be all you wish it to be x

title inspo from one direction's why don't we go there (miss u liam🕊️) they were my #3 artist of 2024 and i'm not ashamed to admit that. when i read this request for the first time i instantly thought of this song and it just had the vibe of realizing you're crushing on somebody.

in other news, my 3k followers celly will serve as my v-day special this year and will last the entire month of february (this is how u properly celebrate black history month) !!! so, trying to finish writing the last of my requests so i can focus on doing the 3k celly requests :) more fics and info coming soon but in the meantime, enjoy reading xxx

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twitter • april 7th, 2024

Yuki watches your expression bloom with awe as you take in the endless sprawl of Sakura trees within Suzuka Flower Garden. Your hand grasps his forearm gently, tugging happily and exclaiming in delight as pink and white petals float through the sky. The flowers (while not as novel to him as they are to you; he’s seen many Sakura seasons growing up in Japan) make him feel nostalgic, memories of his youth—before F1, before karting—tingling somewhere at the back of his head. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Your mouth remains open in amazement until you end up sputtering around a mouthful of blossoms, and Yuki laughs.

“Take a picture of me, please?” Yuki accepts your phone, not complaining as you make him take hundreds of photos before you find two or three that you deem acceptable.

Yuki remains silent during your stroll underneath the trees. He allows you space to inhale the vanilla-like scent, to marvel at the image of graceful, falling petals. Every so often, the comfortable silence is interrupted by a passing fan sharing congratulations. They smile kindly while praising your first-place finish, but grin wildly while cheering for Yuki’s first home-race point.

“She sounded happier about your point than she did about my win,” you remarked, not offended or annoyed, but charmed.

Yuki denied the idea, but his pink cheeks undermined his credibility. The earlier silence is absent, but not missed as Yuki begins to explain the significance and traditions of cherry blossom season in Japan.

“The sakura is our national flower. It symbolizes Spring—the time of renewal, life and death, beauty and violence, the fleeting nature of life. The blossoms only last for two weeks, which tells us to appreciate what we have,” Yuki relays, recalling what he was taught in elementary school verbatim.

“We have cherry blossom parties,” he grins at your envious gasp, “—called hanami. The translation is ‘watching blossoms.’ It can be just a walk like we’re doing now, but we also have picnics under the trees with family, friends, and even colleagues. There is also something called yozakura, which is doing the same thing but at night. My middle school held a hanami every year.”

You come to an abrupt start, turning to look at him with pleading eyes, “Let’s do a yozakura! Can’t we have dinner here? I want to see the trees at night—it must be beautiful! ”

Sympathetically, Yuki frowns, “We don’t have enough time to have dinner here if you still want to make it to the shrine before it closes.” His resolve weakens at the growing pouty downturn of your lips, “…I guess, we can have a snack here before leaving.”

He lets you drag him to the closest takoyaki cart, pleased to see the vendor’s patience as you order in choppy Japanese. While the food is being prepared, Yuki tasks you with finding the perfect tree to sit underneath while he stays near the cart.

“The two of you make a cute couple,” the vendor comments, smiling adoringly.

Yuki chokes on his exhale.

The two of you are far from resembling anything near a couple. Or, at least, Yuki thinks so. He thinks of you as a close friend but, do you see him as a friend? What if you view him as a colleague, or worse: just another annoying, backfield, competitor? Banishing his spiraling thoughts, Yuki considers there is no need to correct the kind lady. She doesn’t seem to recognize him. And, if she did follow Formula One, she would know you two aren’t a couple.

“Arigato gozaimasu,” he utters after a beat, reaching for his wallet as she begins plating the snacks.

She refuses to accept payment, ushering him to grab the small plates, “You’ve earned this meal; for your point and their race win—it is free.”

Yuki nearly exhausts himself expressing his gratitude to the vendor as he thanks her and deeply bows. When he finds you sitting underneath the chosen tree, he realizes he forgot to correct her assumption about his relationship status. Instantly, he forgets again, as you reach toward him to tuck a blossom behind his ear with a smile.

“Kawaii, Yuki-chan~,” you tease, grabbing your takoyaki dish off his stunned-still hands.

“Shut the fuck up,” he flusters eventually, cheeks burning at the sounds of the word cute and his name leaving your mouth in quick succession. Even if the grammar is incorrect and it’s nothing more than a joke.

Yuki practically swallows his snack in one bite. He didn’t know he was terribly longing for authentic street food until his first bite. Not wanting to rush you to finish, he busies himself by searching for the most unblemished flower he can find on the ground.

Yuki waits for the perfect moment when you're distracted by brushing away the petals clinging to your clothing and tucks the near-perfect blossom he picked behind your ear.

“Now we match; kawaii desu~,” he chirps, his grin deceptively innocent. “Close your mouth, it would be a shame if you swallowed more petals.”

Yuki snorts at your offended gasp and dodges the soft punch you throw out as you both dispose of your trash and head back to the car.

The drive to Tsubaki Grand Shrine is filled with anecdotes about his childhood mischief on these very streets you're passing by and questions about shrine etiquette. He didn’t realize you were so concerned about acting respectfully in the temple until you forced him to quiz you on appropriate manners and the important steps. Your dedication to having the perfect etiquette makes him think you’re one of the kindest people he’s ever known. It’s characteristic of you to be mindful of different cultures and kind overall; the fact that you willingly chose to celebrate a win by letting Yuki show you around Suzuka is telling.

Yuki parks smoothly, and soothes your worries calmly, “You have no reason to panic. It sounds like you have it memorized—and if you forget anything, that’s what I’m here for. I would be a terrible tour guide if I let you fuck around and get cursed.”

With a healthy amount of side-eye, you quip, “I will write an extremely negative review and give you one star on Yelp. If you decide to fuck around, be ready to find out! Is this your intricate plan to get me cursed with bad luck so I don’t win another race this year?”

With an appalled expression, he earnestly denies, “If I had to pick any driver to win besides myself, I would pick you,” Yuki sees your eyes soften sweetly and he swallows nervously, needing to deflect the attention, “And, maybe Pierre. Only because he would be mad if he found out I chose you over him.”

The soft tinge of your stare remains even as you roll your eyes at him and giggle, “Of course! I could never compare to your lil’ boyfriend Pierre.”

He shrugs, the two of you exiting the car and making your way to the entrance. Feeling devious, he speaks loftily, “Hey. we both know there’s nothing little about Pierre.”

Yuki can admit he deserved to be deafened by your shriek of disgust. His ears continue to ring as you adamantly state that you don’t need any image of the Frenchman in your brain besides the view of his car shrinking away in your mirrors.

The distraction was effective, your earlier panic about proper manners is nowhere to be found as you confidently navigate purifying yourself at the chozuya, only looking toward Yuki once for reassurance. While you’re busy being awestruck by the architecture and natural beauty, Yuki carefully makes sure you don’t stray into the middle of the pathway and finds himself taking candid photos of you. He knows you’ll be disappointed that you forgot to take any, but he doesn’t want to interrupt your reverence. Hopefully, his idea of what makes a beautiful picture satisfies you. He pauses at the thought, wondering if it’s odd that you’re in the forefront of all the images.

You’ve always been attractive—photogenic, to him.

The two of you reach the shrine and Yuki lets you pay your respects first. He offers you a handful of coins to choose from, reminding you that the amount doesn’t matter, any coin will do. You decided on a 5-yen coin; Yuki’s certain you’re unaware of the belief about that coin increasing your chances of finding a significant other. Although, he is aware that it’s an urban legend. It doesn’t stop his chest from tightening when he thinks about you in a relationship, with somebody who isn’t him. He tosses a 5-yen coin in the offering box to match.

He doesn’t believe in the myth, but if there’s any chance it helps him get together with you he’ll take it.

Burning incense at the temple comes without any more romantic realizations. Buying omamori, on the other hand, has Yuki thinking that what he feels for you is more than a simple crush. He forces himself to not stare at your selections and focuses on his purchases. An en-musubi (for finding love) for himself, and he’s chosen two for you: kotsu-anzen (for safe driving—he thinks it’s a little ironic) and katsumori (for success and victory—he knows you don’t need it).

On the way to dinner, Yuki notices your shuin and asks needlessly, “Is that to remind you of visiting?”

He can feel your gaze as he watches the road in front of him, hearing you ponder over your response, “Of visiting the shrine with you? Yes. Um, I don’t know if this is weird but, I bought you a couple of omamori, if that’s okay?”

Your tone is bashful and when he spares a glance, you avoid eye contact, fiddling with the shuin anxiously.

Yuki sighs giddily, relieved, “It’s not weird because I bought you a couple too. We can exchange at the restaurant?”

He sees the shock on your face from the corner of his eye, as if you weren’t expecting him to do the same. It angers him slightly, his previous obliviousness. If you didn’t ask him to show you around tonight, he never would have been aware of his budding feelings for you, nor the feelings he thinks you already reciprocate.

You’re overwhelmed with the number of choices at the hole-in-the-wall sushi establishment Yuki chose for the night, eventually slamming the menu shut and asking him to order for you. He sits up straighter at the responsibility, rattling off the plates he’d like to the server, mindful of any preferences and dietary restrictions you have.

A flight of sake samples is brought to your table, and Yuki finds it fitting that you enjoy the sweetest flavor because it compliments you. The alcohol loosens the tension gathered in him, helping him maintain a semblance of a regular conversation while he refrains from thinking about the shape of your lips, your attentive shining eyes, the length of your neck, your inquisitive questions as he recalls his childhood, the dip of your waist—Yuki doesn’t take another sip after he feels his eyes straying. He’s enamored with your undivided attention and it makes him feel hotter than he was in Qatar last year.

He asks to see the omamori you’re gifting him before you can comment on the flush spanning from his cheeks down to his collar. Receiving kotsu-anzen (for road safety) and katsumori (for success and victory) from you only serves to make him redder. He thinks about asking for your hand in marriage when he reveals he’s bought you the same and your flush blooms to match his.

With impeccable timing, the server begins to deliver the endless amount of plates Yuki ordered and the moment passes without being addressed. He almost whimpered aloud when your eyes fluttered shut at your first bite of food, moaning appreciatively at the taste.

Desperate to distract his hindbrain, he stutters, “W-What was I talking about before?”

Yuki feels like you know what he’s trying to hide, your eyes omniscient. He spots the corner of your lips tilting upward into a smirk, but it vanishes before he can be sure and you remind him, “You were talking about beating Natori in Motegi to win the F4 title in 2018.”

The rest of the meal remains lighthearted, intrigued chatter flowing around bites of food as you compare and contrast your junior careers and hometowns. It carries to the final stop Yuki brings you tonight, Isozu Beach. The vast, dark ocean is bathed in moonlight, the salty breeze cooling the air, and the coastline is lit up with buildings. The sound of waves crashing against the shore melts away as the heart-to-heart you’re sharing becomes his sole importance. He’s holding both pairs of your shoes in one hand, listening to your occasional giggles as the tide slips high enough to wet your feet and tickle your ankles. Your lilted and somewhat slurred speech tells Yuki you’re tipsy, but you’re insistent on simply linking your arm with his to prevent yourself from stumbling as you continue to walk the length of the shoreline. The stroll resumes and you slowly lean more of your weight into him; your head nestled on his arm, hand wrapped around his bicep, and Yuki feels you shiver at the next wind gust.

Like a gentleman, Yuki pulls off his sweater and helps you into it when your arms prove to be too clumsy to manage on their own without ending up stuck. Briefly, he squeezes his eyes shut to regain his composure after you bury your nose into the collar of his sweater with a pleased hum.

“Okay,” he says, sounding strangled, “Let’s get you back to the hotel—you’re more drunk than I thought.”

He suffers quietly during the short trip to the hotel you're staying in. The way you’re humming quietly as you play with the hem of his sweater has his grip tightening around the steering wheel, stopping him from reaching for the handbrake to halt the car and leaning over the console to kiss the tiny grin on your lips. Yuki escorts you to your room door, making sure you arrive safely.

He takes the keycard from you and unlocks the door after you fail at your first few attempts.

The door clicks open and Yuki speaks, “This was…nice. It’s the best celebration I have had in a while. We should do it again, sometime.”

You smile shyly, agreeing quietly, “I think so too. Thank you for showing me around.”

Nervously, Yuki’s voice wavers, “But, next time, I want it to be a date.”

“I think…I think I would like that,” your small smile grows into an unrestrained grin, pupils wide with infatuation.

He exhales roughly, the tight pressure in his chest lightening as it sounds like you like him, want him, too, “W-wait—really?”

Yuki looks on as you hold onto the door for stability as relieved-sounding laughter overwhelms you. Your amusement quiets when you straighten up to meet his eyes once more, probably seeing how he’s honestly shocked at your returned feelings.

“Yuki, babe—” Oh. He’s going to sing in the shower when he gets back to his hotel room. “—I tucked a cherry blossom behind your ear and called you kawaii. I know the 5-yen coin has that myth about relationships, and I bought an en-musubi omamori for myself because it’s for finding love. Obviously, Yuki—I would like to fall in love with you.”

Lost for words, and with his mouth gaping, stunned, he says, “...You do?”

You’re kind enough to spare him with a roll of your eyes, “I do.”

“I bought the en-musubi, too,” he reveals for no other reason than not knowing what to say.

“I know, babe,” Yuki’s heartbeat skips, “I saw it in the bag during the drive back here.”

“When is your flight scheduled?” He asks suddenly, a plan beginning to form in his mind.

“Tomorrow morning?” Your brows are furrowed in confusion at the change in topic, glancing down at your phone screen to confirm, “—Or this morning, I suppose, since it’s the next day already.”

He swallows, eager again all of a sudden, “Is it too soon if I ask you to cancel your flight and spend the rest of the week here with me?”

instagram • yourinstagram

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yourinstagram missed my flight because i got lost in suzuka. not because i got hammered 👍🏽

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user1 when i put "two f1 drivers start dating e/o" on my 2024 bingo card, i meant for it to be lestappen… happy for you though haha...

user2 WHERE HAVE YOU BEEEEN ???!!!

user3 BEDS EMPTY 😡 user4 NO NOTE 😵‍💫 user5 CAR GONE 😫 user2 i was going quoting rihanna but this works too LMAO

danielricciardo well well well

yourinstagram are YOU doing well 🤨 danielricciardo i’m not the one who told their team that they needed to reschedule their flight bc of food poisoning yukitsunoda0511 it’s me! i’m food poisoning 😁🙋🏻‍♂️ user6 YUKIII PLS ��😭😭

user7 no shot u missed your flight when u told your team to be ready for it on the radio 🤡

yourinstagram do as i say, not as i do—is the phrase, i believe :) user7 okayyy mother gothel since u know what's best 😝

oscarpiastri hey you never gave yuki his sweater back, in case you forgot 😀

yourinstagram oscar please stfu i’m never telling u anything again landonorris hey don’t speak to osc like that…he’s just a boy :( yourinstagram lando u can stfu too? tf ??? these hands are rated e for everyone 🤺 user8 the threat of violence almost distracted me from the sweater exchange…keyword being almost

user9 no post about the race win and no tag for yuki on the last photo…

-yourinstagram hey i won the suzuka gp in case anybody forgot :p -yukitsunoda0511 hey i’m in the last photo in case anybody didn’t know :3

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yukitsunoda0511 i do private tours 🇯🇵🍣⛩️🌸🌊🌖😚🥇

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pierregasly no point in asking who took that last photo 😏

yukitsunoda0511 your mom did pierregasly yuki please yukitsunoda0511 is what your mom said last night user10 your honor, my client pleads: boy best friends

user11 that’s a lotttt of emojis yuki-san

user12 he graduated from the charles leclerc school of emoji usage with honors 🧑🏻‍🎓 charles_leclerc i am a very good teacher 😊 user12 chuck legleg responded i can die happily now

yourinstagram do you have any tours available in shanghai next week?

yukitsunoda0511 there’s a spot open at a discounted price! yourinstagram how much will it cost me 🥴🤧 yukitsunoda0511 five or six kisses should cover it :) yourinstagram payment is on its way rn 🏎️💨💨💨 user13 this could have been a private whatsapp message… user14 going to say taylor swift sucks on twitter so death comes faster

visacashapprb when you tell your driver to have some decorum and he decorates his caption instead 🫠🫠🫠

user15 WAITTT WHY WAS THIS ACTUALLY A FUNNY JOKE💀💀😭 user16 when you tell your driver to score a point and he decides to score a date as well 🫠🫠🫠 pierregasly when you tell your driver to stop harassing pierre and he cyber bullies him instead 🫠🫠🫠

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branwinged · 1 month ago

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Will you accept a mad dany arc if grrm does it in a different, more sensical way or would that always narratively suck for you?

it has nothing do with my personal feelings regarding the character. i dislike speculation of dany having a downfall arc because it reveals a misreading of the text and the narrative role she plays within it. i don't believe it can be done in a satisfying way because she was always intended to be a heroic character. the 'mad dany' reading relies on certain initial assumptions about her character that are being problematised within the story—which is difficult to discuss because grrm's intent regarding dany is at odds with the orientalist framework he employs in the construction of essos, but i'll try to be comprehensive about it. so dany is an exile, homeless and perpetually seeking a home. she was told by viserys that westeros is "our land" but she's not culturally westerosi the same way the rest of our cast is because she's also never known westeros. all she has are second hand, romanticised accounts from viserys (These places he talked of [...] they were just words to her). dany has lived her entire life in essos and absorbed their cultural norms and slavery is normalised in most of essos (There was no slavery in the free city of Pentos. Nonetheless, they were slaves), it's especially apparent in her first chapter which pointedly draws attention to the various slaves serving at illyrio's manse, something dany doesn't express any moral objection to, because nobody has taught her this is wrong. and that understanding only comes after viserys sells her to drogo and she personally experiences a similar loss of autonomy.

Do you know what it is like to be sold, squire? I do. My brother sold me to Khal Drogo for the promise of a golden crown. Well, Drogo crowned him in gold, though not as he had wished, and I . . . my sun-and-stars made a queen of me, but if he had been a different man, it might have been much otherwise. Do you think I have forgotten how it felt to be afraid? DAENERYS II, A Storm of Swords

and when mirri reveals to dany that her act of 'saving' her was no saving at all. rescuing her through the offer of a place in drogo's khalasar is a meaningless gesture since it does nothing to address the systems that have enabled mirri's enslavement in the first place. yeah, she's fourteen and possesses no power in her own right and is not complicit in drogo's crimes but mirri's presence in the story is meant to teach her that lesson. dany does not arrive already possessed with a political consciousness that opposes slavery, she learns and reorients her worldview just as jon did once he became familiar with the free folk. this is an important detail because without it her crusade in slaver's bay is no longer a story about a former enslaved and sexually abused girl being provided the means to begin a revolutionary counter-struggle against a culture of dehumanisation, but about a civilising mission where a culturally westerosi (westeros, where slavery is outlawed. westeros which is clearly imagined as the occident to essos's orient) character with superior ideals travels to foreign lands to educate the barbarians—which would've made her a straightforward white saviour figure. this IS undermined by the way her storyline is rife with orientalist tropes and i'm getting to that, but my main point is that dany's character is very deliberately written to be someone who is stateless and doesn't belong anywhere. she is an other. which is compounded by her targaryen heritage—the targaryens are narratively imagined as white enough to co-exist with the rest of westeros but they're also being othered because they're a family originating from the east with 'depraved' inbreeding and blood magic practices (practices that are reviled throughout the whole continent), which simultaneously makes them too other to ever fully assimilate despite the family being culturally westerosi in all the ways that matter. this especially comes through in the coin quote, every house has had occasional despots for rulers but people only bother to pathologise the targaryens and that's because they're foreigners. "the gods flip a coin" is presenting this dichotomy of targaryens as either mad - violent barbarians from the east, or great, in which case they're exoticised as otherworldly, above the laws of gods and men. and the final thing that serves to other her is her association with the dothraki. the dothraki are initially introduced as violent savages, but that view has been challenged since then as dany adopts dothraki customs and comes to love their people as her own and even sees herself as more of a khaleesi than a queen. and i must emphasise that this is no way done well because a) the dothraki are constructed out of offensive stereotypes about steppe cultures b) five books later grrm hasn't bothered to give any of them interiority because he clearly doesn't care about the dothraki, they're an afterthought in his narrative about dany and c) i think the subversion of their introduction as the inferior racial other basically amounts to "they're noble savages".

so you see all this at work when in-universe those who revile her speak of alleged violent tendencies, that she's coming to burn the continent down, that she hatched her dragons through foul blood magic and that she tricked her khal husband into murdering her brother and has acquired an army of savages, that her court is made up of foreigners and 'honourless' westerosi men (jorah, barristan, and soon tyrion), while others talk of her supposed otherworldly beauty ("The last of her line. They say she is the fairest woman in the world.")—the mad dany reading of her is taking all this at face value, it's falling for that in-universe narrative her enemies have come up with, which associates her and her allies' foreignness with moral depravity. (this is also what the show did, which i said "achieved her s8 ending by fully leaning into the horror of the savage oriental horde come to oppress the civilised westerosi landowning class" and that hysterical randyll tarly speech "at least cersei wasn't a FOREIGNER"). a very early example of this is in the first book. robert wanted a teenager dead because she was a targaryen: aerys's daughter, rhaegar's sister, because she married a khal and adopted dothraki customs as her own. and it was ned who put up a fight against this. ned is flawed in my ways but do you suppose the narrative will diminish ned's legacy in this, in his stance against dehumanisation. and asoiaf is primarily about that, every major character has had experience with being othered (cripples, bastards, and broken things is about this) and within this narrative dany is meant to be The Other who is working to end institutions of otherisation. her upcoming invasion of westeros is not playing into the the threat of the foreign invader but raising questions of whether westeros is also in need of some reform (at one point tyrion directly compares a serf to a slave, something that might be narratively painting westeros as not culturally superior at all for having outlawed slavery). the problem, of course, being that the way grrm subverts the image of essos as the inferior racial other is by first populating it with orientalist stereotypes. he parallels some of the violence found in ghiscari culture and the dothraki raid of the lhazareen village with ramsay and amory lorch and gregor clegane et al operating in the riverlands in acok but the ghiscari are also portrayed almost as a monolith, as uniformly morally suspect individuals because our only introduction to them is through the slavers. it's the way dany is the only active abolitionist with a narrative voice in essos (there's the shavepate. but he's also a scheming violent extremist so), i said her story is not a civilising mission but when you fail to give any of the ghiscari oppressed a voice it doesn't result in great optics. and it is undeniable that the story is About Westeros, dany's great narrative destiny lies over there, when the long night arrives—an apocalyptic threat meant to affect the entire world—the battle for the dawn will also take place over there, i doubt the essosi will play a role in that.

#re the dothraki i'll be honest if he couldn't manage to give them interiority in the 15 years between agot and adwd #why would he start now. like. i don't think we're getting anything in twow sorry #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #dany #asks #*[🫀]

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ellestra · 1 year ago

Text

The Voice from the Outer World

Dune is a story of failure. SPOILERS for Dune Part 2 below

Power corrupts and all of that. We all know this. So we would be able to avoid it, right? If you know what happens you can chose another option. You would be different.

And here's a story that shows that even when you know all of this and more and can literally see the future it's still not enough.

I get why people often think that to avoid this the person in power shouldn't want that power. That this would make them somehow immune. And this logic has multiple faults (like - how can you be good at doing something you hate?) and one of them is that just not wanting to abuse power doesn't mean you would do right things with it.

We are reminded multiple times in the film (and the books also aren't shy about it) that Fremen religious belief in a saviour is not something that arose naturally. It's a belief seeded by Bene Gesserit's Missionaria Protectiva. They seeded superstitions and myths in different cultures so they could use them in a future emergency. Everything Fremen believe about their Mahdi was created so their faith could be used by a Bene Gesserit in need. And both Jessica and Paul are aware of this even before they even set a foot on Arrakis.

It's specifically made for the saviour to be a foreign one (Lisan al-Gaib is The Voice from the Outer World) because the people who made and planned to use this prophecy were ones from an outsider culture. Paul doesn't hijack Fremen beliefs to insert himself as their white saviour. These beliefs was specifically created for someone like him to use.

It was made with purpose of hijacking Fremen religion into protecting the foreigners who know how this prophecy was constructed. This is a parasitic belief (cuckoo-like faith) and the truth doesn't set anyone free. We see why with Stilgar as he wants to believe so much that everything becomes a sign. Even when he's told this has been fabricated and he was manipulated he warps it into something that supports his beliefs not undermines them. I'm sure you've seen this in real life, in real politics if not religion.

Jessica and Chani got changed the most from their book versions. They've become opposite sides of the ideological divide. Not between religion and lack of it - Jessica obviously not a believer - but between using people and letting them decide their own future.

Book Jessica is more apprehensive of Paul's choices. She's often more worried he may not survive the trials than pushing for them for power. In here she becomes the driving force for using the messianic belief Bene Gesserit implanted for Paul's benefit. She makes sure Fremen believe he fits the story. She doesn't care about Paul's wishes to avoid this burden. She knows it doesn't matter when he tells the people the truth about Bene Gesserit, their abilities and their manipulation techniques. Belief is impervious to proof and confirmation bias makes you reject all evidence to the contrary.

But then, in the film, Jessica is kind of possessed. Stilgar warns Paul not to listen to the djinn but neither he nor his mother can stop listening to the voices. The film removes Alia's book doings but replaces them with foreshadowing of what she becomes. She whispers the truths about the future to her mother even before she is born. Funny, how this change makes her, not Paul, the first fully prescient Atreides. She is manipulating the events when Paul refuses to and that's a foreshadowing too. When Jessica took the Water of Life while pregnant she did it for the power this new position among the Fremen would give her. Alia never stood a chance. She was pre-born into this.

The only one trying to stand in the way of succumbing to the power corruption is movie version of Chani. She was never believer in a saviour. She wants her people to save themselves. They already have a plan for a better future that doesn't involve killing worlds for the Empire they never wanted anything to do with. They were not supposed to be warriors of the prophet. She sees this for what it is - a way to control her people. She understands this is just another form of enslavement. The only difference is that this one is embraced. No one listens to her when she tells them the truth. They only see what they want to see.

The power that comes from being close to the rule is just as blinding when you stand close to the throne as it is when you sit on it.

And the sad part is she knows she played a part in this happening to as she convinced Paul to give this a try. She didn't see the visions he saw so she hoped he can remain the person she fell in love with. When he submits to the way prescience shows him and takes over the faith we feel her heartbreak. She watches him becoming what he feared and everyone around him stops her from trying to save him because they get something out of it (not just the other Fremen or Jessica - Gurney puts atomic arsenal in Paul's hands).

Paul doesn't bring freedom. He just changes who holds the power but in the end the structures of power remain (the similarities between Saudarkar and Fremen are not accidental). And billions die so it can happen. But billions is a an abstract number. It's much easier to feel the consequences when they hit close and personal.

Everyone around Paul gets to gain something - Gurney gets revenge on Rabban, Jessica and Stilgar get to destroy the Harkonnens and the Emperor. They are on top now. The power corrupts before you even hold it. Just the promise of power is enough.

This film version of Chani doesn't let us forget that this is what we watch. That what is happening is not a good thing. We as humans have tendency to gloss over big numbers of deaths when it's some unseen people with whom we have no emotional connections. Through her eyes the loss is so much more personal. She loses her Usul to Paul Muad'Dib. And he takes her people and her planet too.

As Paul says - they are Harkonnens too. And they do what Harkonnens do too. The difference was always cosmetic.

And one more thing. A lot is said about Arabic and Muslim influences in Fremen culture and religion but they aren't the only ones. One other is the word used for the places where Fremen live - Sietch. It comes from Zaporozhian Cossack name for their fortified encampments - sich.

In the West the name Cossacks invokes the cruel Russian Imperial forces that tsars used to pacify conquered territories. But this is not what comes to my mind first. In the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth they were free people living in the borderlands of the Commonwealth on the territories often attacked by the Ottomans. The constant raids from the Turks meant they were warriors and constantly moving. But this also allowed for a lot of freedom as there wasn't a lot of direct control over these territories for the same reason. This meant that they were often joined by anyone wishing to have that freedom - from peasants escaping indenture to nobles escaping the law.

The dissatisfaction with the Polish rule eventually lead to an uprising and this part of Ukraine joined Russian Empire. That Empire destroyed all the freedoms Cossacks had and those independent warriors became just another enforcers of conformity for the Empire. They've become exactly what they fought against. I often wondered if Herbert chose the name Sietch intentionally to invoke this turn of events.

#dune #paul atreides #jessica atreides #lady jessica #alia atreides #chani kynes #stilgar #fremen #bene gesserit #harkonnens #lisan al-gaib #muad'dib #usul #dune part 2 #dune part two #dune 2024 #dune part two spoilers #dune part 2 spoilers #arrakis

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horsegirlhob · 2 months ago

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The thing is I really do understand the raised hackles reaction to Mark leaving Gemma at the door but like. Do you really think innie Mark leaving and killing himself for his outie's emotional convenience, and Mark Scout getting to be with Gemma, and everything goes back to life as normal and Mark Scout never has to confront the choices he made or grow as a person or undergo any character development he gets to win grief no consequences he gets to take everything do everything on his terms and be an asshole all he wants and he's rewarded. You think that's better writing? Mark at the cabin constantly saying "I need her back I need to get her back" he's still acting like his grief is what matters, his wife, his Gemma, her in relation to him. The only way for Gemma to get out (which I'm glad she did) and for it to not undermine like, 80% of the rest of the show was for Mark S to make this choice. And if you're so concerned with Gemma as an independent character why is the only win condition for her that Mark goes with her? Doesn't it matter that she got out? Yes it's tragic and heartbreaking but tragedy and heartbreak are essential parts of the story. It's not like Mark and Helly are going to have a happily ever after here they're just trying to get ten more minutes.

#dylan says things #severance #severance season 2 #this may be barely coherent but i just have a lot of thoughts about this reaction #and like I see what they're saying! I get it!#but Mark S choosing to stay isn't bad writing. Mark S choosing to leave would have been.#and like. i see the racial aspect of it too I think there's a lot of conversations to be had about race in severance #but saying 'they sidelined gemma for their pet white ship' feels like it's sort of missing the point of like. the story.

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 13 hours ago

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What are your thoughts on Alyno's relationship, and do you think the good aspects about them outweight the toxic ones? I mean they're definitely at least less toxic than current canon Lovesquare, but that bar is pretty much subterranean. 😬

(Also sorry if you've already been asked this, I found your blog relatively recently and I love reading through your thoughts and critiques! It's always interesting reading through your takes <3)

I'm so glad that you like the blog and, no, I don't think I've been asked this so let's talk about it!

DJWifi or Alyno is a fine couple most of the time. There are really only two major flaws in how they're written and one minor flaw that gets elevated to a major flaw because of the other flaws. I think it's pretty easy to take them and make them into a great couple, but canon has squandered that potential making them into a couple that is just kind of there because everyone needs to be paired off to earn a happy ending, I guess. (This show is incredibly amatonormative.)

Let's go through all of those items one by one.

Flaw One: How They Got Together

Alya and Nino get together in Animan, the episode that starts with Nino having a crush on Marinette. Of course, when Nino is prompted to tell Marinette about this crush, he chokes and says it's on Alya instead:

Marinette: Uhh... Can't wait to hear... about this lucky girl! Nino: Oh, yeah... Adrien:(from the earpiece) Tell her it's you! Nino: It's youuu...uur best friend Alya! Adrien, Alya and Marinette: What?! Marinette: Alya? Awesome! Alya: No! No! It's not awesome! Marinette: I can fix up a date for you guys! Alya: Say what?! Seriously?! (calls Nino from the earpiece) You didn't even ask me first! (calls Marinette back from the earpiece) Uh-uh! Nino's like... a brother to me! Bleugh! No! End of discussion!

This leads Marinette to lock Alya in a cage with Nino in spite of the fact that Alya is clearly not interested in Nino:

Ladybug:(takes Nino and Alya to the empty gorilla habitat and locks the cage) Stay put and you'll be safe. (then leaves) Nino:(he looks at Alya) Uhh... Hey, what's up? (Alya lets out a disgusted groan.)

This questionable series of events somehow leads Alya and Nino to get together off screen:

Alya: Ladybug locked us up together in the same cage all afternoon. Nino: It turns out we have tons in common. You know, Marinette, the girl I've got a crush on? Marinette: Oh, yeah! Nino: Actually, it was you. Marinette: Huh? Nino: Or that's what I thought. But after chilling with Alya that whole time... Alya:(interrupts) Yeah, well...we don't have to give her all the deets, do we? Nino: Oh, yeah, my bad.

What an incredibly lackluster romance! Alya and Nino deserve better than this! I actually don't mind Nino having a crush on Marinette, but if you want to go that route, then there needs to be a bigger gap between him crushing on Marinette and Alya. As is, it makes Alya feel like a consolation prize which is not cool.

I'm also not wild about Alya's change of heart. How the heck did she go from "he's like a brother" to "I want to date him" in the course of an hour? If you're going to give us such a dramatic change of heart, then you need to actually show the change happening. At the very least, explain why! They might not need to give Marinette the details, but they do need to give them to the audience!

Alya and Nino generally feel like a fine couple after this episode, so if you missed Animan then you'd have no reason to question their love, but this being the start of their relationship really undermines the romance for me. It's way too lackluster for one of the show's main couples!

Flaw Two: Nino's Blabbermouth

Season five was the season of character assassination and the episode Illusion was dedicated to ruining Nino, giving us many questionable moments including this scene where Nino outs his and Alya's secret identities in a crowded cafeteria:

Nino: What's up is Ladybug and Cat Noir don't have us to help them anymore. Alya: (nervously) Um, um— uh— what do you mean, "us"? Nino: Well, us, you Rena Rouge, me Carapace! (Alya kicks his leg underneath the table) Ouch! What's the big deal? We can tell Marinette and Adrien we used to be superheroes. (The camera pans to a shocked Marinette.) Nino: It's not like we have any Miraculous that Monarch could steal from us. The only ones who need to protect their secret identities are Ladybug and Cat Noir, not us. And anyway, I already told Adrien about Carapace. (Adrien laughs red-handed.) Marinette: Adrien knew? (furiously) Alya, did you know that he knew? Alya: What, no, I swear I didn't know at all! (kicks Nino's leg for the second time) Nino: Ow! Come on! He's my best bud, I can tell him stuff! You and Marinette tell each other stuff, don't you?

Yes, this reveal was only to Marinette and Adrien, but holy shit a crowded cafeteria is not the place to be talking about this kind of thing! Nino, what are you doing? We even see Lila overhear a later part of the conversation, making it clear that wasn't one of those confusing moments where the show used a seemingly public place for a confrontation or reveal, but later context makes it clear that it should be read as a private moment.*

Because the show let there be consequences for Nino using this location AND let the group use the extremely private boiler room later on, Nino comes across terribly! He is so gods damn lucky that Lila only overheard the part about Gabriel (as far as we know.) This scene is a pretty massive betrayal of Alya's trust and Nino never even apologizes for it. It makes him come across as a bad friend, a bad hero, and a bad boyfriend.

I would never include a moment like this unless it was part of a character arc where Nino learned the error of his way or part of a plotline where Alyno breaks up. Because the show never gave this moment proper consequences or payoff, it just makes Nino look like a terrible hero for no good reason and it makes Alya's choice to stay with him pretty questionable. Can she really trust him when he's been shown to treat her most precious secrets with such casual disregard?

*Note: this really only happened in the early seasons when the show didn't have more private locations animated, Volpina and Miracle Queen being prime examples. Both episodes contain a scene that seems extremely public, but later episodes make it clear that the events were only known to the characters who were present in the scene.

Flaw Three: Why Do They Even Like Each Other?

This is the minor issue I mentioned at the start. I don't think side couples need to be deeply developed and sometimes crushes just happen, but when you introduce issues like how the couple got together and Nino being a questionable partner for a superhero, then you do start to wonder why Alya is sticking with this guy? What does she see in him? Why should we want them to stay together outside of amatonormativity?

I don't have a good answer for those questions and it really undermines them as couple. If you're going to do things like mutual identity reveals and episodes centered on their relationship, then you do need to give their relationship some substance because you're giving it too much narrative weight for something so underdeveloped. That's extra true when you're denying the lead couple their own identity reveal! Alyno being fully revealed while also full time heroes is a massive insult to the love square from a narrative perspective and just further cheapens the square's eventual identity reveal.

Fixing Alyno

In spite of all these issues, I do actually like Alyno and tend to put them together in my own stuff. They have the potential to be a fantastic couple. I even use their relationship to help guide how I write Nino because he has so little substance in canon!

For those who don't want to read the massive post I just linked, my main inspiration for Alyno is the fact that canon made Nino a film buff. That's a fantastic match for a nascent vlogger! I love to include scenes of him teaching her how to frame certain types of shots or him helping her learn how to edit footage into an engaging story. It's such an obvious way to let them bond and I'm so disappointed that canon never went there. I actually make the Ladyblog the reason they got together by having Nino help with the filming and by having him run along after Alya in the early story because he's trying to keep her safe. Dude needs to earn his miraculous somehow!

Final Thoughts

I'm pretty neutral on canon Alyno because canon has given them so little substance while also introducing some pretty major flaws, but I like their potential and happily ship them in the realms of fanon. One of the many cases where it's less a love of canon and more a love of the potential I see in canon. Much like the love square, I'd be totally fine with canon Alyno breaking up forever, but I like to give them a happily ever after together in my own stuff.

#ro994art #alya deserves better #nino deserves better #ml writing critical #ml writing salt #identity reveal salt

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lost-romantique · 4 months ago

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Blitzø's Maturity in Sinsmas

One of my favorite parts about Sinsmas, aside from everything, has to be the amount of maturity Blitzø displays in Sinsmas, or specifically in his conversation with Stolas.

This conversation really goes to show how one of Blitzø's best features is his ability to always say the right thing, when he knows the people in his life truly need it.

He did it with Moxxie and Millie:

"Look, I'm hard on you, because I know what you're capable of, Mox. You care too much about what everyone thinks except for... me, because, y'know, my opinion is correct, but just... keep doing a good job. 'Kay? You shoot 'n kill good, you escape things easy... you can be strategic and cold-blooded when you need to, aaaand don't expect any more compliments; I'm maxed out."

"Millie, I have spent too much of my time, energy, and holes into setting this up for us to entertain your bullshit. I brought you into this company for a reason, okay? You're tougher, smarter, and frankly more capable than anyone I've ever met in any ring..."

"Mind if I steal?" "Today was a lot wasn't it?"

Blitzø starts the conversation with an ice-breaker to lighten the mood because he can tell Stolas is on edge right now.

"I-I- I know you can't see your kid. And I know you did so fucking much just to save my life-"

There are three things I want to point out:

Blitzø makes it very clear that he knows what Stolas just lost, he knows he can't see his daughter.

Blitzø also states that he understands the huge sacrifice Stolas had to make in order to save his life.

Blitzø knows that what happened is a serious situation, he knows how much Stolas loves his daughter, and he doesn't downplay that loss.

"It's okay. Saving you was the right thing to do. And you have risked your life for mine in return. You don't need to feel any guilt for my situation, it was my choice. It was all my choice. I caused all of this."

"She'll understand eventually. You just gotta give her time."

Stolas is mourning the loss of his daughter, and is reflecting on the times he's failed her as her father. And I love how Blitzø states that the simple fact that what Octavia needs right now is time to process things, the same way Stolas needs time to process things as well. And I love how Blitzø says that, "...she'll understand eventually," because it's true. Octavia will understand, eventually.

I think one important thing to note is the fact that Blitzø also doesn't undermine Stolas' statement: "It was my choice. It was all my choice."

Because it's true, Stolas did make a choice...

Stolas chose to give Blitzø the book, thus starting their transactional arrangement.

Stolas chose to give up his own life to save Blitzø from execution.

Stolas chose love, and that is not a bad thing.

"Blitzø, she's gone. For one hundred years, she's gone. And after all that time, she'll never forgive me. I'll be a stranger to her."

"Y'know, my twin sister... She hates me too. For something that I did. And I miss her, every day. We were so fucking close, y'know, we- It's a shitty feeling. But, you just gotta keep trying."

Blitzø, right now, is willingly being vulnerable with Stolas and I think that's beautiful. He encourages Stolas to keep trying to reach out to Octavia, to not give up all hope just yet.

And I love how Blitzø decided to talk about Barbie, and not Fizz, and the reason is simple...

Blitzø can't guarantee a happy ending between Stolas and his daughter, he can't promise any of that. Blitzø states that Octavia will understand him, but he can't promise that Octavia will forgive him.

If Blitzø were to share the fact that he recently rekindled his friendship with Fizz, than that might be giving Stolas a false sense of hope.

And Stolas, right now, doesn't need a success story, he doesn't need, "Hey, I was able to fix my relationship, so you can too". What Stolas needs right now is reassurance that he's not alone, that there is someone out there that understands his pain.

"Sounds likes, uh... they want me back in there..."

"Go enjoy your Sinsmas, Blitzø. I'm fine, you don't have to stay here with me... What are you doing?"

"Well, I can't fucking dance with you without- come here, getting inventive."

I love the Full Moon parallel of Blitzø choosing to stay with Stolas instead of going back to the party. Blitzø knows Stolas is not fine at all.

And while Blitzø can't magically make all things better, Blitzø can at least give Stolas a moment of happiness, a chance to momentarily forget all the pain he just went through, a chance to be with him and him alone.

#helluva boss #blitzo #blitzø #helluva boss blitz #ro rambles #stolitz #helluva blitz #stolas #blitzo x stolas #stolas goetia #sinsmas #moxxie #millie

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ginnsbaker · 4 months ago

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All Of Your Pieces (12 - Red)

Chapter Summary: Unable to accept that she is now part of the team, you try to avoid Wanda Maximoff at all cost.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 4k+ | Chapter Tags: Age of Ultron!Wanda, Enemies to Lovers (sort of)

A/N: I got some interesting asks about Y/N's background. There are backstories about Y/N that will come up since Part 2 is purely a flashback. However, things such as how she became an Avenger is not covered, but you're welcome to ask me for headcanons (or give your own!). P.S. Someone asked how old Y/N is in the flashbacks, and she's actually younger than Wanda P.P.S get ready for some action too! it's my first time writing such a scene *_*// More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pretending Wanda Maximoff didn’t exist was easier than you initially thought.

You got good at avoiding her. It became part of your routine—timing your movements through the compound to miss her by minutes, memorizing her schedule so you could always be somewhere else. Sometimes you’d see a hint of her around a corner, a flash of the crimson jacket she usually wore or the dark fall of her hair, but you'd steer in the opposite direction without a second thought.

She seemed to reciprocate—or maybe she simply picked up on the hint. Either way, you both managed to coexist without the need to acknowledge the other. You, a lifelong night owl, suddenly found yourself becoming a morning person the moment you realized Wanda preferred the training room in the evenings. Working out before dawn felt like the safest plan. You told yourself it was working.

Meals, however, were trickier. The kitchen and dining area were unavoidable shared spaces, and schedules didn’t always align as neatly as you’d hoped. Some mornings, you’d find her already there, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, or she’d walk in just as you were finishing up.

The team had a tradition—dinners together, a semblance of family in a life that lacked roots. You started to skip these, opting for protein bars or quick microwaves alone. It was easier than facing her across the table, being reminded of what she forced you to see back in Johannesburg.

But then you noticed Wanda stopped showing up, too. On the nights you did show up, her seat was empty. The others didn’t seem bothered, but you couldn’t shake the feeling it was your fault.

Despite having won the territory, you couldn’t shake the guilt that came with it.

—

Steve and Tony were at each other’s throats again.

Their arguments had become more frequent in recent weeks, and although you usually stayed out of it, they were beginning to take its toll on the team. You could tell lines were being drawn; team members quietly taking sides, aligning themselves according to whoever had a mission lined up.

You walked into the meeting room, late as usual, pretending you hadn't heard them from halfway across the building. Steve stood rigid, arms crossed over his chest, jaw set like granite. Tony reclined with that maddeningly casual air that mostly irked Steve, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other animatedly waved as he spoke.

Wanda was tucked away in the corner farthest from the door, partially shielded by Vision. Trying to avoid Wanda only made you seek her out involuntarily, as much as you wished not to.

“I'm telling you, Tony, allowing the government to dictate our actions undermines everything we stand for,” Steve said.

Oh. This again? The politics of it all was your least favorite thing about being an Avenger.

“Accountability,” Tony replied. “We can't keep making unilateral decisions without considering the global implications.”

Steve shook his head. “We've operated just fine without bureaucratic red tape slowing us down. Every second counts when lives are at stake.”

Tony snorted in a way that’s supposed to rile up Steve even more. “Operating 'just fine'? You call the messes we've left behind 'just fine'?”

You cleared your throat. “Sounds like a party in here.”

Neither of them acknowledged you. Your gaze unintentionally drifted toward Wanda, and you caught her eyes just as she quickly looked away.

“Since when did you become a fan of bureaucracy?” Steve asked.

“Since the paperwork started piling up from our little international incidents,” Tony said, pouring himself another shot of whiskey.

You grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, leaning against the counter as their words volleyed back and forth.

“Paperwork? Is that what this is about? You’re tired of paperwork?”

“I’m tired of taking the blame for all of us,” Tony said.

“Well, you did create Ultron, didn’t you?”

Tony's eyes narrowed. If he weren't clad in his robe, he'd be suiting up right now. “Low blow, Rogers.”

“Truth hurts,” Steve replied.

You took a bite of your apple. “You two need a time-out or something?”

Tony turned to you, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “Ah, look who finally joined us. Got anything to say?”

“Nope,” you replied, chewing deliberately. “But could you tone it down? Your arguing is scaring the children.”

“You are the ‘children’,” Clint said with a smirk and you gave him a dirty look.

Natasha hid a smile behind her glass.

“I meant Vision,” you said, pointedly not looking at the synthezoid lest your gaze accidentally land on Wanda again.

Steve exhaled sharply. “This isn't a joke.”

Natasha set her glass down carefully. “Does this really need to be settled now?” she asked, her tone of voice indicating she’s taking charge now. “We gathered the team for a briefing, remember?”

“You're right,” Steve conceded. “We can discuss this later.”

Tony shrugged. “Fine by me.”

Clint leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “So, what's on the agenda?”

Vision, to your surprise, got up from his seat. You recalled that before becoming whatever he was now, he had been Stark's AI, which gave him direct access to global networks. He would be among the first to hear any distress calls.

“We've received intelligence about a potential threat escalating in Southeastern Europe,” Vision said.

You took another bite of your apple, listening but keeping your expression neutral.

Steve picked up a remote and clicked it, causing a holographic map to appear in the center of the room. Red markers dotted a specific region. “A rogue faction has been intercepting shipments of advanced weaponry.”

Tony arched an eyebrow. “Let me guess—Stark tech?”

“Sort of,” Steve allowed. “But they're not just shopping for tech. They're also headhunting for the enhanced.”

At that, Wanda shifted slightly in her seat at the back, her attention fixed intently on the map. You noticed but quickly averted your eyes, focusing instead on the holographic display.

“Any idea who’s leading this faction?” Natasha asked.

“Not yet,” Steve said. “But Intel suggests they're planning something big, and soon.”

“So what’s the plan?” you tossed out.

Steve's eyes swept the room. “We intercept them before they can mobilize. It’s in the rural mountains of Cilo,” he pointed to a spot on the map of Turkey. “Barely any civilians, but we still play it clean—minimal casualties.”

“I'll prep the suits and run some satellite sweeps. Maybe we can get a clearer picture of their operations,” Tony declared, and without waiting for a dismissal, he headed for the door. Steve watched him leave, shaking his head with a mix of irritation and resignation.

“Roles, then,” Steve started, raising his voice just enough to reach the corners of the room—a small gathering today; Rhodes was with the U.S. president on a diplomatic trip in Asia, and Sam was aiding Sokovian refugees settling into their new homes.

“Natasha and Clint, you'll handle reconnaissance. Vision, you will join Tony for air support. I'll lead the ground team.”

“Who’s on the ground team?” you asked.

Steve held your look. “You, me, and Wanda.”

The pit of your stomach clenched. “Fantastic,” you muttered.

“Problem?” Steve challenged.

You quickly schooled your expression. “Nope.”

“Good,” he said firmly. “We roll out at dawn. Meeting’s over.”

As you headed toward the door, Natasha fell into step beside you. “You okay with this?” she asked quietly.

“Why wouldn't I be?” you replied, not meeting her eyes.

She gave you a knowing look. “I know what you’ve been doing. Pretending Wanda doesn't exist isn't going to work on a mission.”

You sighed. “I'll be professional.”

“See that you are,” she said. “For everyone's sake.”

—

The mission was set for the next day, and you were mentally running through strategies, trying to anticipate every possible outcome. What you hadn't expected was a knock on your door late in the evening, well after Steve's usual bedtime of 9 PM.

Normally, you'd peer through the peephole to check who it was, but your mind was elsewhere—fixated on a particular restaurant in Istanbul you hoped to visit if there was any downtime after the raid. You'd never confess this to anyone, but you were a bit of a foodie. Sampling the best cuisine in each country your Avenger duties took you to had become a personal quest.

Without thinking, you stood and walked over, opening the door to find Wanda standing there, her hands nervously clasped in front of her. You looked down at your feet, waiting.

“I need your help,” she said. These were the first words she had ever spoken to you, and you didn’t know why you'd taken note of it.

You didn't glance up. “Don't recall offering it.”

She slipped inside without asking, the soft soles of her boots silent on the floor—a detail that annoyed you. “Steve said he wants minimal casualties, and my powers aren't exactly…gentle. I need to learn how to fight without relying on it too much.”

“So go ask someone else.”

“There's no one else available right now,” she murmured. “Natasha is out, and Steve thought it would be good if we—”

You cut her off, finally raising your head to look at her. “I'm not interested.”

Wanda scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wouldn’t be coming to you if there’s—”

“Then maybe Vision can help you,” you suggested coldly. “He seems to have taken a liking to you. I'm sure he can dig up some martial arts videos for you.”

She bristled. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like being civil is something that could actually make you sick.”

You met her gaze, unflinching. “I don't have time for this.”

Wanda inhaled sharply, and a strange energy coursed through your veins, the furniture in your bedroom shuddering as though caught in a miniature earthquake. But you held your position, unafraid.

“If you refuse to cooperate, I'll have to report back to Steve,” she warned.

The threat was so feeble it almost made you laugh. But you aimed to be more cruel than that.

“Go ahead,” you replied coolly. “Tell him I won't hold your hand.”

Wanda looked on the verge of an outburst. Good.

“Why are you being so difficult?”

You crossed your arms. “Why are you still standing at my door?”

Without another word, she closed her eyes briefly. Suddenly, you felt a subtle push against your thoughts—a whisper not your own. “Why do you hate me so much? We have to work together—”

You recoiled, anger flaring. “Get out of my head.”

“I was just trying to—”

“I don't care what you were trying to do,” you spat, getting in her face. “Don't ever do that again.”

She reeled back slightly. If it weren’t for the fact that she was a hundred times more powerful than you, you might have thought she was intimidated. But as you drew near, you saw it wasn't anger in her eyes, but hurt—a wounded response to your harsh dismissal.

After a few seconds, Wanda nodded. “I’m sorry. I won’t bother you again,” she said softly.

Just then, Clint appeared around the corner. You gave him a questioning look. He might have seemed like he was just passing by, but you weren’t deceived. Clint had no reason to be in this hallway at this hour. It seemed more likely he had been eavesdropping on the last part of your conversation and chose this moment to step in.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked lightly.

“I was just looking for someone to help me with hand-to-hand training,” Wanda explained, already backing away from your doorway.

“I’m the guy for that,” he replied. “Head to the training room, I'll join you shortly.”

“Thanks,” she said, casting a final glance your way before turning on her heel and striding away.

Clint turned to you the moment you two were alone. “Got a minute?”

“Not really,” you replied, though you stayed rooted in your spot.

He leaned against the wall beside your door. “What's going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Doesn't look like nothing,” he countered. “You're being pretty rude.”

You folded your arms. “She never apologized to the team.”

“And you think giving her the cold shoulder is going to fix that?” he asked. “Grow the fuck up, kid. Bullying the new recruit isn't doing any of us any favors.”

“She did some really awful things, Clint,” you reasoned. “She hasn't taken responsibility for that.”

He sighed. “And you've never screwed up? Never done something you regretted?”

“That's different.”

“Is it?” he challenged. “Because from where I'm standing, we all have our demons. You don't see the rest of us acting like we're better than anyone.”

You looked away. “You wouldn't understand.”

“Try me.”

“Wanda showed me more than just a bad dream,” you whispered. “I—” You started to spill the details of your nightmare but stopped, the fear of appearing vulnerable, of seeming weak and worthless like your mother always made you feel, silencing you. When it became apparent you wouldn't continue, Clint added, “Ever thought that maybe she's dealing with her own nightmares too?”

You glanced back at him. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because we're a team,” he said simply. “And teams look out for each other. Even when it's hard.”

“I don’t know if I can—”

“No one's asking you to be her best friend,” he said. “But at least be civil. Professional. The mission depends on it.”

You nodded, standing straighter. “I'll do my job.”

“Good,” he said, pushing off the wall. “That's all I'm asking.”

“Good night, Clint,” you muttered, heading back to your room.

“One more thing,” Clint called out just before you could close the door completely. “You’re right—she never apologized to the team. But she sure as hell apologized to you earlier.”

—

The Quinjet touched down just beyond the rocky outskirts of the small Turkish village, three miles from the fortified base the team was about to infiltrate. The rogue faction had been using it as a stronghold to store advanced weaponry and conduct illicit operations. You unbuckled your harness and stood, adjusting your gear as the rear hatch lowered to reveal the arid landscape bathed in the golden hues of early morning.

Natasha caught your eye as she secured her gear. “Play nice,” she said, her voice low enough that only you could hear.

You gave a noncommittal shrug in response.

She arched an eyebrow but didn't press the point. Instead, she adjusted the strap of her Widow's Bite and headed down the ramp.

Clint was perched near a cluster of boulders, bow ready. He didn't speak; he just shot you a pointed look and nodded slightly. You'd never felt more babysat than you did at that moment. Trying to make an effort to improve your working relationship with Wanda (at their behest), you headed toward her without a clear plan for the conversation. A pep talk maybe? You weren’t great at those, but you had absorbed enough from Steve to last several lifetimes.

But just as you were mere steps away from her, she breezed past without a glance in your direction, heading straight toward where Steve was waiting for Tony and Vision's signal to advance. It was as if you didn't exist.

Fair enough, you thought. Two could play at that game.

You tapped the side of your headgear, bringing up the HUD that F.R.I.D.A.Y had uploaded with the mission parameters. A translucent map overlaid your vision, highlighting your designated route through the village's eastern perimeter. Your task was to secure the potential exit points and ensure no targets slipped through once the operation commenced.

“All right, everyone, we’ve got clearance from the air team,” Steve's voice trembled over the comms. There was an unusual distortion in the signal, and you silently hoped it wouldn’t cause problems later. “Check in.”

“In position,” came the succinct reply from Natasha

“Ready on the western ridge,” Clint reported.

“Copy that,” Steve said. “Wanda and I will approach the main entrance from the south. Y/N, you take the north side. Secure any escape routes and watch for patrols.”

You pressed a finger to your earpiece. “Understood.”

“Keep comms open and stay sharp,” Steve added, and with that, everyone moved into position.

You moved into position, the rugged terrain providing ample cover. The north exit was a chokepoint—a narrow path bordered by steep cliffs. Perfect for an ambush, but also a potential death trap.

“All clear on my end,” you whispered into the comm.

“Strange,” Clint remarked.

“Same here,” Natasha agreed. “It's too quiet. I don’t like it.”

Your instincts prickled.

Then, a faint vibration underfoot. You frowned, kneeling to touch the ground. The tremor grew stronger, rhythmic.

“Do you feel that?” you asked softly.

“Feel what?” Steve's voice came through.

Before you could respond, the ground shook violently. From hidden crevices and camouflaged tunnels, a swarm of hostiles erupted, pouring into the pass like a flood. Dozens—no, hundreds—armed to the teeth and moving with eerie coordination.

“Ambush!” you yelled, scrambling for cover.

“Hold your position—we're coming for you!” Steve roared.

It should have assured you, but for the next few minutes, you were on your own. You took stock of your surroundings. The pass was narrow—a choke point. It was clear now that it’s a trap, and the enemy got lucky that a superpowered didn’t end up scouting this area.

You opened fire with your dual silencers, taking down several men with precise shots. But for every one you dropped, two more seemed to appear in his place. They weren’t just attacking—they were herding you, forcing you deeper into the pass where the escape routes grew fewer and fewer.

Sweat trickled down your temple as you struggled to hold them off. Your muscles ached, and your breaths came in ragged gasps. An unexpected blow struck your side, slamming you against the rocky wall.

Gritting your teeth, you pressed against the cliffside, muscles taut. Outnumbered and isolated, and not to mention trapped on a dangerous corner, survival seemed impossible.

“Come on,” you muttered to yourself. “Think.”

Just as the closest attacker lunged, a surge of energy hurled him backwards. Wind seemed to come in every direction as Wanda landed on her feet beside you, her eyes glowing red.

Relief washed over you. “Your timing is impeccable.” You hadn't expected that seeing Wanda would make you feel so incredibly safe, but it did. It really did.

She gave a faint smile, eyes scanning the swarm of hostiles regrouping ahead. “We need to find a way out of this trap,” she urged.

“Agreed,” you replied, reloading your weapon.

The narrow pass had become a funnel, channeling them straight toward you. Rocks jutted out from the cliffside, creating pockets of shadow.

“We're pinned down,” you noted, pressing your back against the cold stone beside hers. The space was tight, forcing you closer together. You could feel the warmth radiating from her despite the cool mountain air.

Wanda glanced upward. “We might be able to climb to that ledge,” she suggested, her breath brushing against your ear.

“Worth a shot. I'll boost you up.”

Wanda gave a small, amused smile. “You don't have to do that. I can get up there myself.”

It took a moment for the realization to hit you. Of course—her psionic abilities allowed her to levitate. That's how she'd reached you so quickly earlier; she'd flown. Heat rushed to your face as embarrassment set in. “Right,” you mumbled, feeling a bit foolish. “I forgot you could... you know...”

If Wanda picked up on your discomfort, she kept it to herself. “I can give you a lift if you want,” she offered.

You looked up at the ledge, then back at her. Swallowing your pride, you gave a curt nod. “Sure.”

“Okay,” she said softly. “Just relax.”

That was easier said than done, considering the enemies that surrounded you both. But even harder than that was the idea of letting Wanda use her powers on you, even if it was just to help you reach that damned ledge.

“Ready?” Her eyes combed yours, fishing for consent.

“Ready.”

Her hands came up, almost invisible in their movement. A warm fuzzy feeling wrapped around you, and the ground fell away as she floated you up, effortless as breathing.

“Almost there,” she murmured.

She steered you onto the ledge, and when your feet hit solid ground, you exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding. “Thanks,” you tossed over your shoulder.

She smiled up at you. “Don’t mention it.”

She joined you shortly afterwards, landing gracefully beside you. The proximity was unavoidable on the narrow ledge, and you were acutely aware of how close you stood.

“Now what?”

Wanda leaned against the wall beside you, her shoulder brushing yours. “We need to find a way to contact the team.”

You checked your equipment. “Comms are jammed.”

She frowned. “They must have a dampening field.”

An explosion rocked the ground nearby, showering you with debris. “We can't stay like this here forever,” you muttered.

Wanda took a deep breath. “There is... something I can try.”

You glanced at her. “What is it?”

She swallowed hard. “I can get inside their heads—like I did before—to make them stand down.”

Like she did before in Johannesburg—to you, to the entire team in this mission sans Vision. You saw the fear in her eyes—the fear of your judgment, of repeating past mistakes. It struck you then how much she regretted what had happened between you.

Another burst of gunfire erupted, making you both flinch. There was no time.

You looked her in the eye and nodded. “Do it.”

Wanda wasted no time further. She got to work, her hands moving like a spider’s legs weaving its web. Looking down, you saw the men freeze mid-step. One by one, they dropped their weapons, eyes wide with unseen terror.

Unable to help yourself, you asked, “What are they seeing?”

Wanda kept her eyes on her work, pointedly avoiding your gaze. “Their worst fears and deepest guilts. They’re confronting the nightmares that haunt them most.”

For a split-second, you felt sorry for these people.

“Let's move,” you said, placing a reassuring hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

—

Reaching higher ground, you and Wanda were finally able to reestablish communication with the rest of the team. From his position, Steve was quick to inform the local authorities about the perpetrators that Wanda had incapacitated with her powers, ensuring they remained trapped within their own mental constructs until help arrived. Meanwhile, Natasha and Clint were busy collecting crucial evidence from the scene, items they believed would be vital in piecing together a solid case against the previously concealed masterminds of the operation. As for Vision and Tony, they razed the base to the ground.

Back at the Quinjet, you and Wanda took up positions to oversee and secure the extraction route.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

She looked up, slightly surprised. “Y-You’re welcome.”

You shifted your weight, grimacing slightly at a bruise forming on your side. “Thought being a veteran would make this mission easier,” you mused, going over the jet’s controls to give yourself something to do while you both waited for the others. “Overestimated myself this time.”

Wanda nodded thoughtfully.

Another period of silence stretched out, taut but not entirely uncomfortable. She seemed to wrestle with something before speaking again. “May I ask you a question?”

You hesitated, wary of where this might lead. “Sure.”

She took a slow breath. “Do you think... you might ever forgive me for what happened in Johannesburg?”

You exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the distant peaks. “Deep down, I know it wasn't entirely your fault,” you began, “but sometimes it's easier to face your fears when you have someone else to blame for them.”

She absorbed your words quietly. “I understand,” she said softly. She thought about Tony. For the longest time, she blamed him for everything.

“Wanda, I—”

Before the conversation could continue, footsteps crunched on gravel behind you. The rest of the team was coming down the trail, and Natasha was the first to pick up on the fact that you and Wanda had been left alone together without any fireworks.

She walked up to you with a sly grin barely lifting the corners of her mouth. “Good work out there,” she said.

You rolled your eyes and drifted to a quieter corner, away from the team.

Wanda had saved you. That much was clear, and it meant you owed her your life—a debt that sat uneasily with you. You were grateful, of course, but the last thing you wanted was to owe anything to anyone.

Especially not to someone who terrified you to your core.

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yourmomxx · 2 years ago

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Emily Prentiss(chief or not cheif) X Fem!Reader have been secretly married for several years, (if emily is cheif they’ve been dating since she was an agent and then married when she was a cheif and if not obviously the opposite). No ike knows or expects emily to be in a relationship because she doesn’t say anything until one day she forgets her badge and lunch at home so her wife brings her stuff and the whole place is shocked ? bonus if tara or someone flirts with her

a/n: ooh, I love me some secret relationship trope! Unfortunately, I'm still only on season 5/6 of Criminal Minds, so I just kept Emily as an Agent and not as Chief, if that's alright (Tara is in it, though ;)). I hope you like this, anon!

— ❝ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴛᴇᴀᴍ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡs ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ’s ɴᴏ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴄʏ. Mʏ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟ ʟɪfᴇ ɪs ᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴇss ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀɴ ᴘʀᴏfɪʟᴇ.❞ —

-Jennifer Jareau

Emily Prentiss was a private person. She prided herself in it.

I mean try it, hiding something from an entire office of educated professionals in degrees on how to read the most subtle shifts in a persons behavior and building a view based on that information.

Of course, let’s not forget, there’s the general rule, or rather, interdict, of profiling the other members of your team. But sometimes, you can’t help yourself.

Emily had noticed it in herself more times than she would like to admit.

Sometimes, it happened as easy as breathing, a natural trail of thought that let loose when she caught on about something or the people around her. She tried to undermine it as quickly as possible whenever she realized she was doing it, though.

It’s not the fact that she didn’t trust them.

No, that was never the thing, those people were like her second family. Or her first even, maybe.

But after spending almost every waking hour of the past years of her life around them, there were some things that she would rather keep for herself.

Leave them be in their own bubble that was just ‘Emily Prentiss’.

And when she talked about ‘things’, then she was actually talking about you.

The team could find out about her pregnancy, about her resentment towards the church. They could know that she had a phase at fourteen where she liked licorice and hasn’t been able to eat it since those dreadful seven months, or that she still hated her father for being emotionally unavailable and leaving her to deal with her mother on her own; they could know that.

But they couldn’t know about you. Never you.

This is wasn’t an issue of trust, again.

Trust was never in the mix when she made the decision, every morning before work, to lay off her wedding ring and keep it safe on a small chain in her back pocket.

But you were her safe place. A rock, a tow, something for her to hold on to, the only thing that was in no way connected to her work place.

Emily loved you, she did so much, and she’d known it after the first time she saw you smile, and accepted it during the first time she kissed you.

And hiding you, keeping you safe from all of this, was her way of shedding off the horrors and traumas of her job when she came home at night, completely tune out whatever she had experienced mere hours before, and dive back into you.

Your shared house, shared bed, shared sheets, shared kitchen, shared table.

Not talking about you, or even admitting you existed, while she worked and saw the worst sides of what humanity had to offer, drew a distinct line between her life with you and the life she led at work.

Call it a personal protective shield.

So, no, she would never, ever tell them.

“No. For God’s - No.”

Which is why, when Emily Prentiss walked into the bureau that morning, and realized her credentials weren’t in their designated pocket, and also her bag was empty of her lunch box, she knew that she was doomed.

Emily knew about your caring side. The loving, mothering, always everyone's shoulder to cry on-side.

Hell, if she was being honest, it was one of the reasons she started falling so hard for you so easily.

In that moment, though? God, how she wished she would have chosen a narcissist.

(Not literally, though. She'd profiled guys like that before. They really weren't wife- or husband material.)

You had just been on your way out of the house when you had seen your wife's dark lunch box still residing on the counter top where you had prepared it for her an hour ago.

After a quick look at the time on your phone screen, you had short-handedly decided to slightly delay your trip to the pharmacy for some mundane refills, and drop by Emily's office to bring her her lunch.

After all, you knew how busy she could get, and how her focused state had the power to drown out every other basic need her body had.

If you wouldn't make lunch for her, she wouldn't have the time, or the head, to think of buying something for herself, you knew that.

One would think that was clear after almost an entire year of marriage.

The thought alone brought a smile to your face.

You grabbed your car key off the counter and hurried your way out the door, closed it behind you, halted for a moment - and slowly backed up inside again.

You eyed the black case next to the key bowl suspiciously.

"That wasn't there yesterday," You muttered to yourself.

Cautiously, because when your wife worked in the FBI, anything was possible, you reached for the leather-bound case and drew it closer to you.

When you opened it, the tension immediately left your shoulders. You shook your head sighing at the sight of your wife's passport picture and the huge, dark blue letters FBI showing themselves to you.

"Oh, Emily, what am I gonna do with you?"

When you left the house then, it was final.

Hopefully.

"What's up with you, you seem stressed out?"

Emily did her best not to flinch in her already tense state when JJ came up next to her.

She managed her best, reassuring smile and pressed her sweating palms into the side of her jeans.

"Oh, it's nothing," She lied. "Just thought I lost something."

JJ raised an eyebrow. "Alright," She muttered. "If you say so."

Then, she crashed a light brown paper file into Emily's chest.

"This just came in from El Paso, three homicides so far. I'll inform the rest of the team and we'll meet in the briefing room in ten."

Emily couldn't do more than nod, and just managed to grab the file before it slipped to the floor when JJ left.

She wasn't usually like this. She was good at keeping her head in the game.

But right now, the fact that her credentials were missing wasn't exactly stressing her out, because she knew that you would bring them to her as soon as you realized that she had forgotten them at home.

Emily was stressed out because she knew you would bring them to her.

What she didn't know, was, however she should act and how the team would possibly take it.

The elevator you entered took a tremendous amount of time to realize which floor you wanted to go to, and even longer to slide the doors closed and jerking to a start.

You would think that in an official federal office building, the mechanics could be more advanced.

Then again, counting the many times Emily complained about the budget allocation of the bureau when she tought you weren't listening, maybe you shouldn't be all that surprised.

The doors slid closed when the thought suddenly hit you.

You were about to enter your wife's office. Which you had never been to, not once in your life and only knew the address of because goddamn, was it hard to miss.

The building that was probably the only thing that Emily had wanted to keep you out of for as long as she could.

And you came here for a lunch box.

Emily knew you knew. You had talked to her about it, she had answered your questions on why she always got fussy when you asked her how you could finally meet her team, and you had understood, every time, but this?

She couldn't just ask you to actively lie about your relationship in front of most of - all of - her friends, could she?

The last time she had checked your location, it had already shown you in close vacinity to the BAU building. She could figure what was ahead.

Was she about to deny a relationship?

“Can I help you?”

This office had way too many doors, in your opinion, and way too few signs telling you where to find what.

The greeting voice made you look up, and you automatically shifted into your politeness to strangers-mode, upon seeing a woman come up to you, wearing a two-piece and her hair in loose curls.

A very pretty woman, you had to admit.

"My name's Tara Lewis," She introduced herself, "Who are you looking for, sweetheart?"

You quickly waved her off. “Oh, I don’t work here.”

Tara tipped her head, eyes not so subtly shifting up and down your appearance.

“I figured as much, I would have remembered a face like yours.”

You managed an awkward laugh.

Emily had once, in good fun, told you you were easily caught off guard by people showing genuine interest in you all of a sudden.

You hated when she was right.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Just over Tara Lewis' shoulder, you were suddenly able to spot the dark hair that indicated Emily Prentiss approaching from behind her.

You nodded in her direction in recognition, as she came to a halt next to Tara Lewis.

"I'm a friend of Emily's," You lied, and by God, you did it so neatly, Emily was questioning if she had maybe already dragged you down without realizing.

"She texted me that she forgot her lunch and her badge, and since we're close to each other, she asked me to get it for her."

That polite smile was still present on your face, and your voice pitched slightly higher than usual.

You threw Emily small looks in-between, unspotted by the usual eye, but she noticed them.

You were telling her to go along, to play the game, string it all a bit further until it turned into a web that could either wrap around and suffocate her, or catch her when she stumbled.

And she probably should.

Because you made it easy. You had made it so easy for her, laid it out like a red carpet for her to walk on, the lie, that could keep her sanctuary safe-

"I'm married."

In the midst of talking to Tara, your words died in your throat and your mouth stopped, hanging open.

Tara herself whipped her head around so fast, it was a question if she was breaking her neck, eyes ripped wide open in complete and utter schock.

It was quiet. In-between the three of you, a needle dropping would have echoed like the loudest drum.

"Say what now?" Tara didn’t take her eyes off Emily for a moment.

Slowly, movement seemed to re-enter your muscles and your eyes widened at the absolute extent of what had just happened.

"What are you doing?" You hushed at Emily.

Your wife's gaze - who you loved dearly, but in situations like these, could just hold by the shoulders and shake, shake, shake - tumbled between you and her co-worker, and you could almost decipher the exact moment she graciously invited the 'fuck it'-attitude.

Emily's shoulders dropped.

"I'm married," She repeated. Calm, collected, and slow.

All of the things you were totally not feeling right now.

"This is Y/N." Emily stepped next to you and held you gently by your wrist. "My wife."

And if the English Dictionary had demonstrating pictures next to each word, Tara Lewis' face right now would be pinned under 'bafflement'.

It took a moment, actually it took a few, for the Doctor to collect herself again.

She straightened her shoulders, cleared her throat, and shook herself out, as if to remove any unnecessary consideration that kept her from thinking clearly.

"Who knows about this?" It was her first question.

Where your shoulders were ever so slightly touching, you could feel Emily's body stay tense.

"Not really anyone," She admitted.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Emily shook her head. "Y/N is my personal life," She cleared. "I spend almost every awake minute with you people. I wanted something to myself."

As subtly as you could, you leaned your body the slightest bit closer to her. It wasn't visible to the lazy eye, but Emily could feel it.

She squeezed your wrist.

You were comfort to her.

Tara's eyes flew between the two of you, contemplating, observing.

Then, from one moment to another, her lips broke into a blinding grin.

"A wife," She repeated. Emily ripped her eyes open to interpret her friend that she should keep her voice down.

"Good for you," Tara smiled.

Emily visibly relaxed. A breath she had been holding escaped her lungs soundly.

"Let's just be clear," She told Tara, "This is still my thing." She gestured to you. "My marriage is still my thing. I don't need the entire team on me like vultures, profiling my love life like they do everything else."

Tara nodded earnestly. Her small curls were bumping up and down. She pulled her fingers across her lips and pretented to turn a key in the corner of her mouth.

"My lips are sealed." She threw the imaginary key far, far behind the office desks. "Lovergirl."

Emily ignored her and turned to you.

Your fingers lingered around hers in the movement.

"Thank you," She breathed out quietly. A soft smile played around your lips as you looked into her eyes, recognizing that specific gentleness that you knew she only gifted you with.

"Anytime."

You placed her lunch box in her hands. "It's rice with some peas and corn." Emily smiled. "You're the best."

"And, before I forget-" You pulled out the badge from your bag, but instead of giving it to Emily directly, you opened her suit jacket and found the inner pocket, safely storing the credentials where you knew she kept them every day.

You smoothed out the jacket when you were done.

"There you go."

Emily didn't even know what to say. That warm feeling, that she felt in her entire body every time she looked at you, realized who you were and who you were to her, it made itself known in this moment right now.

Right here, in the middle of her workspace.

And with all the horrors she'd see, it was probably the most content she had felt in this place in a while.

"You are so amazing." The words didn't come close to what she was feeling.

But the way your eyebrows loosened, and your lips slightly parted, she knew you understood.

"This is so sweet, and I hate to be that person, but Prentiss, we have a case to get to."

Emily cleared her throat, being ripped from whatever that moment had been, and reminded on what ground she was standing right now.

"Right," She said. She opened her arms and leaned in to pull you into a hug.

A hug, not a kiss on the cheek.

She wasn't that far yet.

"It's okay." The feeling of your breathed words tickled near her ear. "I understand."

Emily squeezed you a bit tighter.

"Get home safe."

You slowly broke away from the embrace.

"I will," You promised.

Tara mouthed a quick 'I'm so sorry' in your direction. You laughed and waved her a goodbye, before you headed for the elavator again, and she got on her way to follow after Emily, who had already made her way to where JJ had ordered them a few minutes ago.

Tara endured until the top step.

"Oh.my.God. I can't believe it!" She almost squealed as they made their way next to each other to the briefing room.

"Look at us, sharing secrets now. Ah." She shook out her shoulders. "I feel like this is a pyjama party in junior year all over again. Amazing."

Emily couldn't do anything else than grin at Tara's antics.

Suddenly, her pocket vibrated with a short tune, and Emily pulled out her phone to check her display.

It was a message from you. Emily smiled softly as she read it.

Have a good day, my sun. Will hopefully see you tonight<3

"A message from boo?" Tara mocked, and tried to peak over Emily's shoulder.

Emily quickly shut off the display, stuffed her phone back into her backpocket and continued walking.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

But the lovesick smile didn't leave Emily's face for the rest of the way to the briefing room, partly because she was so caught up in her thoughts about the specific feeling of your skin, that she didn't even notice she was wearing it.

#emily prentiss #requested #answered #yourmomxx #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #female reader #emily prentiss fluff

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ot3 · 3 months ago

Note

have u read the homestuck epilogues? what do u think of them if u have? and do u have thoughts on june egbert

when the epilogues originally dropped, i read candy but i did not go on to read meat because the experience of being a homestuck fan at the release of the epilogues was a pretty miserable and i saw no reason to prolong it.

i did not categorically hate everything the epilogues were attempting to do but i think they are fundamentally and irredeemably flawed for one extremely big reason: you can not release something as the official continuation of a work while also insisting it is not a piece of the canon. it felt like they wanted to have their cake and eat it too in a way that completely undermined the entire work. they released it with faux-ao3 tagging/styling, but weren't brave enough to actually release is on ao3. it had to be elevated Above fanwork, but if you got too upset about it they could always just point out 'well we said it wasn't canon' to deflect legitimate criticism. plain and simple, it all felt like cowardice. release something intentionally designed to provoke and antagonize a dedicated fanbase and then retreat to twitter to complain about how nobody can understand and appreciate REAL, SERIOUS, QUEER ADULT CHARACTER WRITING. but like. real, serious queer adult character writing still needs to be good and I'm not sure the homestuck epilogues Were that. having characters you know to be 100% fictional and are now being written by a brand new set of people pretty much look at the camera and say "if you think my character writing is OOC it's only because you don't respect my interiority as a human being" rang extremely fucking hollow to me.

i think it should be obvious to anyone who has been following me for any amount of time that i don't want or need sanitized and saccharine character writing to be pleased and my issue was not that the epilogues were dark, it was that they felt confused and contrived.

being a homestuck fan took up all of the formative years of my life, without exaggeration. it was the main thing i was into from ages 14-21 and has been incomparably important to me. so it's next to impossible for me to separate my feelings about my epilogues from what it felt like to be a homestuck fan during the absolute clusterfuck of these things dropping, especially since i haven't revisited them since. one event in particular that really soured me was an official homestuck team member who i was decently good friends with asking me to delete tweets i made criticizing some aspects of the epilogues. i found to be an extremely unprofessional to do as someone who is on the payroll of an IP speaking to a fan of that work, regardless of whatever terms we may have been on. additionally, i found the way she + the epilogues writers responded to criticism of the epilogues from the pretty significant demographic of teen fans on twitter to be at best condescending and at worst actively cruel.

it felt like a bunch of people who wrote shock fiction about a beloved cast of characters - something they were fully within their right to do, to be clear - but then could not handle the extremely predictable reception to it. my eventual homestuck reread is penciled in for 2029 and if i can bring myself to [re]read the epilogues at that time, im going to. we will see how my feelings change then

as for june egbert: love her, but this is once again soured by the way post-mspa era homestuck treats the concept of canonicity. john egbert is my number one favorite fictional character of all time. if you tell me "great news, she's a girl now" i am in fact overjoyed by that. i think its something that adds a lot of texture to the character. but i don't like people treating it like it's canon when it just simply isn't. i don't think you get points for portraying a transfem character until you have actually... portrayed a transfem character. i do not keep up with hs2 for reasons that are probably pretty obvious so i'm not sure if anything has changed, but to the best of my knowledge june egbert is not yet canonical there either. it's very frustrating.

but you see what i mean about canonicity: ignore the fact that we haven't discussed june egbert's gender in a single actual piece of fiction. the toblerone says she's real so she is! ignore the fact that the homestuck epilogues are official works that were on the shelves at barnes and fucking noble, they're "beyond canon" because weve put AO3 headers on. it feels like lategame homestuck treats canonicity like a switch it can flip completely independent of the works they are making, in whatever way is convenient for them. if the HS2 team (shoutout to floral, one of the best to ever do it and nobody deserves to be writing homestuck more than them) ever does get around to making june egbert canon, i will be standing by to pop bottles.

#long post #sorry you said a sleeper agent codephrase and now you get several paragraphs #ask

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watcherintheweyr · 11 months ago

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I saw a post earlier talking about how Alicent is not being rewarded by the patriarchy she has served so faithfully, and how the son she and Otto raised to the throne 'to protect his life in the way they knew they must' and I just... I have Thoughts so I'm gonna say em.

Alicent thought that by weaponizing the patriarchy against Rhaenyra and by serving it and it's goals, she'd be the exception to their sexism and disdain of women. She thought she'd be rewarded by signing with the oppressors and the oppressive system and it's values, and she's now facing the reality and the consequences of what's happened. And she's also getting a taste of the undermining and humiliation that she turned against Rhaenyra for years.

Honestly the fact that she even has a seat in the Small Council makes no sense at this point - it barely made sense with Viserys, given Alicent's views on women having power. That they should not have the power but should 'gently guide' those that do. In truth it's tragic irony and yet somehow comedic, seeing her realize that she will not be rewarded or exalted in Any way for all she's sacrificed and betrayed.

But also: Otto knew that Rhaenyra wouldn't turn on her siblings. He never really believed she would kill them. Those were lies he fed to Alicent that she in turn poisoned her children with in order to serve his ambition: which was originally to have his blood ruling on the throne but has become to have his blood on the throne as a puppet-king that he can control.

The MOMENT they moved forward with the usurpation, Otto attempted to have Rhaenyra and her entire family- including two toddlers- assassinated- the very thing he claimed Rhaebyra would do. Because he was never horrified by such a concept, and he never genuinely thought Rhaenyra was the sort to do such a thing. But he absolutely is- and entirely unprovoked. And yet somehow Alicent is shocked by this- somehow she never realized that to 'secure his succession, Aegon and his faction would have to do to the true heir and her family what she thought the true heir would do- which is either incredibly poor writing, or just blind, willful ignorance of what a usurper would have to do to stay secure from rival claimants.

Otto suggested Rhaenyra as heir to further distance Daemon from the throne (which was due to his hatred of Daemon, his knowledge that Daemon saw hom as he was, and his.. greed and possessiveness of Viserys, which was referenced now on s2e2 in how Otto spoke of Viserys, the man he puppeted, controlled, and manipulated for decades with total reverence.)- and because he thought she would be immediately displaced once his daughter gave Viserys the son that Aemma was killed for.

He never thought that Viserys would seriously hold her as his heir- and never thought she would be so difficult to manage or control, either. We see the horrified realization in his eyes in episode 2 when she shows him up at Dragonstone- that she is actually something formidable, that she just succeeded at something he did not- and saved his life from Caraxes in the same breath. That she, a girl, was taking this role as heir seriously, and that she might actually be able to play the part, and do it well.

So he made a new plan- to fill Alicent's mind with poison and lies about her once best friend, to ensure she would turn her children against Viserys' heir, and thus help him to further his goals.

But he miscalculated. Deeply. Because now Aegon's jealousy, insecurity, and hatred are running unchecked as he sits as the most powerful man in the realm. Now his grandson's depravity guides his choices, and Aegon's hatred and jealousy of Rhaenyra, his desperation for love and attention, and the power cirrently goong to his head... All are far stronger than any respect he may have once held for his grandsire- and his mother.

She betrayed and destroyed herself and Rhaenyra for nothing. She will never be rewarded for what Otto made her suffer or for what she did to disparage and demean Rhaenyra in the eyes of the men of the realm. She has served her use, as far as the men she thought to guide are concerned.

#rhaenyra targaryen #pro rhaenyra targaryen #anti team green #anti team green stans #anti alicent hightower #team black #pro team black #anti otto hightower #anti aegon ii #anti aegon ii targaryen

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hotchsprncess · 8 days ago

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Hi! Can I please request a Hotch fic with a chubby BAU!reader? Where they’re on a case and the lead detective isn’t really taking reader seriously and says/mentions something backhanded about reader’s appearance and Aaron just happens to overhear it and defends her 🤭

Then she acts like it didn’t really bother her but Aaron can just tell something’s up, could end in smut (either hotel room or when they’re back home) or just good old fluff! you can throw in some daddy kink in there if you want 🙂‍↕️

Also sorry if this is too long of a request, please don’t feel obligated to respond to this!!

.ᐟ MDNI .ᐟ

OMG thank you so much for this amazing idea 🤭 the way i'm beyond excited to write this is unreal!!!! hope you enjoy °⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ p.s: there is a lot of plot/build up in this fic, so it may take a while to get to the smut but i promise it's there :p

i like you, have a cupcake ⊹ aaron hotchner

ᝰ summary : after being disrespected by the lead detective in new york, hotch can tell that it's hit close to home. once he decides to check on you back at the hotel, there's no telling what he'll do to make you feel better.

ᝰ warnings : fem chubby/plus size bau!reader, discussion of case/unsub, reader being undermined/body shamed, discussion of insecurity/body image, use of y/l/n (twice), co-workers to lovers (ish, asked on a date), sub!reader, softdom!aaron, some nipple play, clit smacks (literally 2), oral f receiving (he's a munch idc), daddy kink, praise (maybe a tad of degradation), dirty talk, p in v, multiple orgasms, creampie, fluffy ending

you loved new york city, but not when you were here on a case. 3 days in felt like 5 already, and everyone was getting impatient. you all sat around the table, with the exception of hotch standing at the evidence board, trying to build a stronger profile.

"it's just so elusive, i don't get why the mo is going back and forth between strangulation, stabbing, and shooting" jj wonders out loud, the shuffling sound of flipping through photos filling the room.

"are we looking at a team here? i mean, there's 3 distinct mos. maybe they're taking turns" rossi chimes in, everyone nodding along to what he says.

"the victimology is all over the map though" reid gestures to the evidence board, "the 2 stabbings were young white females, the 1 shooting was a middle-aged asian male, and the 3 strangulations were all single women of varying races, aged 50-55 who lived alone. it doesn't correlate with a team who would likely be going after the same demographic"

"and we're still sure this is the same guy?" lead detective thomas calls out from the corner of the room, sipping coffee out of his nypd mug.

"a penny was left at each scene in the victim's hand. it might seem coincidental, but the chances of all of these individuals holding a single penny while they were attacked is under 0.1%. so yes, it's the same unsub" reid provides a statistic as he usually does, causing the gears to turn in your head.

"what if it's one person with dissociative identity disorder? like you said, the victimology doesn't make sense for a team, but for someone with did an alter is a completely different person with different experiences, motives, preferences, etcetera. the signature of the penny remains the same, so maybe that's motivated by the host personality. they all share a reason to kill, but that's the extent of the similarities" you figure that even though someone may see it as far fetched, it's worth proposing.

"seriously? first of all, i doubt that even exists, let alone that this guy has it. like agent rossi said, a team seems more accurate" detective thomas counters your theory, making you curl in on yourself a bit.

"actually, what agent y/l/n said is very applicable to this case and might just help us solve it. let's deliver the updated profile" hotch responds, shutting up detective thomas as the team starts to head out of the conference room.

"great work" he whispers to you as you pass by him, a gentle blush filling your cheeks. praise from your boss was always welcomed, not only because he defended your theory but also because you maybe had a little crush on him.

later that day around 7pm, one of the nypd officers brought in treats that his wife had made. there were cookies, cupcakes, brownies, and even a few muffins. everyone dug in as you waited until the crowd dissipated to go have your pick. your stomach rumbled as you approached the counter, filling your cup with coffee as you scanned the beautiful desserts. you felt the presence of someone beside you, looking to see that it was detective thomas. you felt a little anxious around him, but nonetheless hoped to keep the peace with some small talk.

"these all look great, huh?" you propose, stirring some sugar into your coffee.

"very..." you notice his eyes scan you from your peripheral, "not sure you need any of them though"

you'd had your fair share of body shaming throughout the years, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. it was one thing that detective thomas already undermined you and your profiling skills, but he also blatantly body shamed you to your face as if he had no cares in the world. it made you sink further into yourself, unsure of what to say and also not wanting to cause a scene. you were in the fbi and you had the reputation of the bau to uphold, you couldn't afford to let him have it despite desperately wanting to put him in his place. though, you didn't have the chance to react anyways because hotch was one step ahead of you.

"that was extremely unprofessional and rude of you, detective. my team and i, including agent y/l/n, are here out of our own free will. if you can't show her respect i will not hesitate to walk out of here with my team and leave you to your own devices. am i clear?" his tone is authoritative and his threat very serious. hotch didn't mess around.

"uh... yeah. crystal" detective thomas is visibly awkward after hotch's scolding. good.

"are you going to apologize to her or do i need to teach you how to do that too?" you wanted to chuckle at hotch's response but decided to hold it in for everyone's sake.

"i'm sorry, agent. won't happen again"

all you do is nod in response, walking away from the coffee counter and retreating back into the conference room. another rumble of your stomach reminded you just how hungry you were, but the thought of stuffing your face with a cupcake after that made your appetite dissolve. you felt out of place, like everyone heard what he said and was analyzing your appearance. you knew that wasn't the case, but that's exactly how it felt. the feeling was ultimately unwelcomed.

after 5 more hours of work and another victim, the team decided to call it a night. with your input of did the profile of the unsub was getting stronger and connecting the victims became easier, lifting everyone's spirits a bit.

you bid your goodnights to the rest of the team as you exited the hotel elevator and made your way down the hall to your room. you decided a shower was necessary after the long day, humming as the warm water encapsulated you.

you avoided looking in the mirror for too long as you stepped out of the shower, still feeling a little uncomfortable from earlier. you slipped into your pyjamas, consisting of a baggy crewneck sweater and sleep shorts, before settling against the headboard and grabbing your book from the bedside table. before you could even finish the first sentence, a knock at your door grabbed your attention. you shuffled your way to the door, looking through the peephole to spot hotch on the other side. your heart skipped a beat before unlocking the door, a small smile on his face when you opened it.

"sorry to bother, but i just wanted to check on you and make sure you were okay" hotch can appear standoffish in the field, but his care for others was very strong and genuine.

"oh, thank you, i'm okay... i don't want to make earlier a big deal or anything, i've heard it before"

a slight frown forms on hotch's face at your words, "i'm sorry to hear that, you don't deserve to be spoken to that way"

you nod shyly at his response, spotting the container in his hands.

"oh! here" hotch holds the container out towards you, "i noticed you didn't end up eating anything at the station, so i grabbed you a cupcake"

your heart swells at the thoughtfulness of your boss, grabbing the container from his hands, fingers brushing against his. "that's sweet of you, thank you" you continue without thinking, "did you want to come in? i have a couple beers in the fridge"

"i don't want to impose-"

"you aren't at all, please..." you open the door wider, allowing him to pass by you. you're overwhelmed with the scent of his cologne, not too strong but still potent and manly. hopefully it sticks in the room after he leaves.

you set down the container and grab two beers from the mini fridge, passing one to hotch as he sits across from you at the little dining table in your room.

"do you party by yourself often when we're away on cases?" he teases, gesturing to the beer in his hand.

"oh no, jj and i party together" you giggle softly, a chuckle slipping from his mouth. "i'll invite you next time"

"that would be great" he shoots you a smile before taking a sip, you doing the same.

"i-" you take a breath, "like i said, i don't want to make earlier a big deal, but i do want to thank you for defending me. being a female in this area of work can already be hard enough, but being..." you sigh, "not fitting into the beauty standard just adds another layer, i guess, so thank you"

"you don't have to thank me, you never should've been disrespected like that. and for what it's worth, i think you're beautiful" his hand reaches for yours which is resting on the table, squeezing it softly.

your cheeks fill with heat, the feeling of his large hand around yours bringing solace.

"i know it may be inappropriate, but i don't care. you're so beautiful, i can't help but want to make sure that you know it" his tone is as serious as can be, yet beyond genuine.

"aaron" you breathe, locking eyes with him. you get lost in the deep brown hue of his eyes as they fill with something you can't quite pinpoint.

"come here" he speaks barely above a whisper, coaxing you over to his side of the table as he rises from his chair. your hand remains in his as you walk over, stopping in front of him before his hands trail to your hips. he hoists you onto the table, a small gasp escaping you. a subtle smirk grazes his lips as he situates himself between your legs, leaning in closer.

"if this isn't okay, tell me" the urge to squeeze the plush of your hips was overwhelming aaron, but he harnessed some self-control in order to make sure you were comfortable.

"it's more than okay" you reply, hands reaching up to loosen the tie he was still wearing.

aaron doesn't miss a beat, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. you hum at the feeling, tugging off his tie and letting your hands roam his shoulders. he squeezes your hips, his hands trailing up your body underneath your sweater. his hands are rough but his touch is intoxicating, indulging in every inch of you. he takes ahold of your breasts, groping the mounds and flicking your nipples with his thumbs. he pulls away from the kiss, a whine escaping your lips.

"i know, baby. just wanna take this off, is that okay?" the pet name goes straight to your core as you nod in response to his question.

"words. tell me it's okay" the dominance in his voice has wetness pooling in your panties.

"it's okay, please" you practically beg, eager to feel him all over you.

"good girl, lift your arms up" he strips you of your sweater, tossing it onto the chair he was previously seated in.

his eyes rake over your body, close to drooling at the sight of your bare breasts and the plush of your tummy; he was in awe.

"fucking beautiful" he groans, kissing you again but with a little more fervor this time. he lets his lips trail down your jaw and neck, making their way between your breasts and over your tummy. he reaches the waistband of your shorts, looking up at you for confirmation.

"please, yes" you whine impatiently, remembering his need to hear you verbally respond.

he smirks proudly before pulling off your shorts and panties in one shot, kneeling on the rough carpet of the hotel room as he spreads you open.

"my god" he murmurs, pressing kisses along the insides of your thighs. "i always loved your thighs, the way those skirts you wear hug them so perfectly..." he muses as you squirm under his touch and gaze, his mouth so close yet so far.

"i'm getting there, sweetheart, be patient" this only makes you whimper more, aaron landing a gentle smack to your clit. "did you hear me?"

"mhmmm" you whine, another smack landing on your needy clit.

"you'll get what you want faster if you answer properly, you know that by now, don't you?" he uses his thumbs to spread your pussy open, your slick staring back at him.

"yes, yes daddy!" the name slips before you can stop it, your mouth moving faster than your brain due to the pure desperation you felt. having your boss (and the man you secretly have feelings for) between your legs was a sight you thought you'd only see in your dreams, so your current position was dizzying to say the least.

the sound that left aaron was reminiscent of a growl, immediately diving in to collect your juices on his tongue. you couldn't hold back your moans if you tried, nails clawing at the wooden table underneath you.

"you taste so good... so good for daddy" he murmurs, sucking your clit into his mouth. each time he suckles on your bud he sends you further into ecstasy, your back arching and pushing your pussy further into his face.

"oh my god, fuck oh my god" you babble breathlessly, aaron's ministrations not faltering even as you grind your pussy against his mouth. he lets go of your clit just to start flicking it with his tongue, hands gripping your thighs and holding them back so he had room to devour you.

"i'm- i'm close"

"yeah? you're gonna cum on my tongue?" aaron's tongue dives into your hole before suckling on your clit again, pushing you over the edge.

"daddy" you squeal as you cum for aaron, a hum rumbling in his throat as he tastes your sweetness. your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to regulate your breath, the task proving difficult as he sexily unbuttons his shirt and unbuckles his belt.

"you did so good, baby. can you get on the bed for me?" he asks gently as he unzips his pants, observing every movement of yours.

"of course" you make your way to the bed, sitting in the middle and waiting (im)patiently for aaron to make his way over and touch you again. he removes his boxers before he saunters over, your eyes almost bulging out of your head at the sight of his cock. he was around 7 inches in length yet still a perfect thickness, the head leaking precum and looking unbelievably enticing.

"lie back and hold those legs for me" he hums in satisfaction as you obey his orders, tapping his tip on your clit. the wet smacking sound has you whimpering, your eyes practically begging him to push inside.

"is there something you want?" you learned quickly that aaron loved to taunt and tease, but also hear you ask for him; express your desire.

"give me your cock, daddy, i need you inside me"

"need me, huh?" he smirks as he slowly pushes just his tip inside, remaining stagnant for a moment though it felt like hours. "who am i to deny a girl her needs?" he pushes all the way in, the sudden fill making you gasp.

he starts to thrust, finding a pace that still allows him to fuck deeply into you. his hands are pressing your legs back now, your own yanking at the duvet below you. the sound of his hips slamming into yours echoes off the hotel walls, your pussy sucking in his cock each time he pulls out.

"so perfect, you feel so good around daddy" he moans, pounding into you like it's the last thing he'd ever do. "thought about this pussy so many times, pressing you like this and making you mine"

you whine at his words, the prospect of forming a coherent sentence seeming far fetched by how much his cock was jumbling your brain.

"you cock drunk? hm? you're so cute" he breathes out, his hips picking up their pace as he plunges deep into you again and again. you clench around him, indicating that your orgasm was on it's descent again.

"are you gonna cum again? answer me"

"yes daddy! i- oh i'm gonna cum, gonna cum" you moan loudly, speaking nonsense as you begin to cum around his cock.

aaron lets out a low growl, continuing to pound relentlessly. "that's it, that's a good fucking girl, let it all out"

your legs quiver in his grasp as you come down from your second orgasm, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease.

"please cum inside me, daddy. fill me with your cum, please please please" you plead as you stare up at aaron, the pleasure plastered on his face now ingrained in your mind.

"fuck... anything for you, sweetheart, i'm gonna fill this pussy" he groans, his hips stuttering as he starts to cum. you feel the twitch of his cock as he pumps you full, his hands gingerly releasing your legs and lying them flat on the bed.

"holy shit" you giggle, rubbing your hands up and down his biceps.

"you could say that again" aaron chuckles, pulling out slowly and lying beside you on the bed. his hand finds it's home on your waist as you snuggle close to him, your head resting on his chest.

"i definitely couldn't have guessed that this is how my evening would go" you mumble, tracing shapes on his chest with your finger.

"me neither, but i'm happy it did... i've been wanting that to happen for a long time" aaron hugs you close as your bodies exchange heat.

"oh yeah?"

"mhm, and i want you to know that i have more than sexual attraction to you... i'd love to take you on a date once we get home, if you'd want that"

a smile takes over your face at his question, "i'd love that"

aaron presses a kiss to your head,

"sounds like a plan, sweetheart"

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fic

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councilofcastamere · 1 year ago

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SAINTLIKE | AEMOND TARGARYEN X READER

a b r i d g e m e n t : when you, now a Lannister, return to King’s Landing, Aemond ensures you won’t leave.

TW: smut, groping, mentions of anal, penetration, oral (fem receiving), degradation mixed with praise???, creampie, breeding, slight cum eating

CREDITS FOR THE AEMOND PICTURE TO ultravi0l3t on Pinterest!

TAGLIST: @toodlesxcuddles , @imsoshygirl

“Gods, Helaena,” you sigh softly, spraying your perfume on your dress. your slender fingers continue to spray it on your neck, behind your ears and the inside of your wrists. “It feels strangely comforting to get away from all that gold up in Casterly Rock.”

“I’ve missed you, sister.” she said in response, sitting on your bed with her eyes focused on her sewing. "But Aemond missed you more.”

“I'm sure he did,” you say softly, biting your cheek to prevent a smile from spreading. your eyes flickered to the bed Helaena was sitting on. the chambers Aemond had snuck a thousand times in to get some comfort to sleep. “Do you have any-"

“The dragon eats the lion,” your little sister suddenly interrupted you, looking up from her sewings. “The lion is blinded by pride, but the dragon is blinded by rage.”

you dropped the perfume on the floor, dumbfounded by Helaena's interruption.

“Come again?” you asked softly, careful as to not undermine her. you knew better than to undermine her sayings after the time she proclaimed Aemond had to close an eye. “What are you talking about, sweet sister?”

she only hummed, and sprayed some perfume to the back of your knees as you lifted up your dress.

"I will see you at supper, sister." she dismissed your question with a gentle tone, standing up.

you bid her goodbye, your confusion present to what it meant. However, you shook it off. Your boys were with the Septa, Aemond was practicing his swordsmanship, Aegon was doing god knows what...

you readied your hair again, making certain the curls at the bottom were luscious enough. you then headed out to the halls, your flat flootwear tapping against the ground with each step you take.

“Aunt y/n!” you heard a masculine voice call out, causing you to turn your head at the voice. you recognised the two brown-haired princes instantly.

“Nephews,” you smile warmly, embracing Lucerys first. you rubbed his back and asked him how he was doing, to which he delightfully replied that he’s officially betrothed to Rhaena.

you rise up again and turn to the eldest, Jacaerys. you could have sworn you saw him blush, but you knew better than to act as if you know the truth. you engulfed him into a hug, your scent rubbing off on him. “How have you been?”

he blinked twice, his mouth slightly parted at seeing you again. “Good, auntie.” he said softly, attempting to stand tall and noble.

“Good.” you nodded respectfully, trying to brush them off politely. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some urgent business with your mother.”

they both nodded, and scurried off to the courtyard, you knew that if you mentioned you’d be visiting your dear brother’s chamber, all you’d hear are subtle sighs of annoyance and whines disguised as uncertainty.

you treated down the grand halls again, finally reaching his chambers. there were no guards, strangely enough, and you took the liberty of opening the door, entering, and shutting it behind you.

“Sister.” his voice startles you, causing you to turn around. “What brings you here?”

“Aemond,” you smiled, trying not to let your eyes flicker to his tunic less form, stepping a few steps closer to look him up in the eyes. “You are attending supper, are you not?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked gravelly, his hands sliding down to the small of your back. you tried to avoid it, but you felt a small sense of arousal affecting your thoughts. “After all, nothing more than a supper with… family.”

“Aemond,” you whisper, as if he had just said a sentence condemning the gods. “No matter how you think about it they are still Rhaenyra’s. Half Targaryen.”

“Is that what she told you after you confronted her?” he asked huskily, his hands sliding down to your hips. “That her fucking a strong was just, and that they’re still half-fucking-Valyrian?”

“Aemond, stop,” you say in a hushed tone, feeling his other hand run across your stomach area, covered by the dress, unable to feel your full breasts due to the material of your dress. “We shouldn’t. My lord husband-”

he broke off your sentence by pressing his lips upon yours, his tall figure looking over you as if it was a shadow, your face in his hands as if it were a precious gem needing to be cradled.

“Your craven of a husband is out fucking whores, not seeing the absolute fucking beauty he has in front of him,” he murmured between kisses, his slender hands working to unbutton your dress. “But it’s fine, I suppose. You were meant to be mine anyways. Meant to be carrying my children.”

you tried not to kiss back, you really did, but his hand crept up the second your dress was dropped, and kneaded your breasts. then he took advantage of your little gasp as to slip his tongue inside. you let out soft moans, your hand flying to his hair.

“Perfect, rōva mandia,” he coos, his hand once again switching positions to rub at your asscheeks and hips. “After 4 sons, you've remained sensitive. That cunt of a Lannister must have not pleased you enough, has he?”

the only thing you could do was shake your head, placing little kisses on his neck and face which in all honesty, were adorable to him. your eyes looked at him so purely, yet he couldn’t see you as anything other than a vixen born to seduce him.

“Be a dear and show your little brother what he has missed,” he whispered in your ear, and you obliged rather quickly, crawling onto the bed, your tight little back-hole showing for him.

“Hm,” was all he said as he took his time stepping, coming to rub one of your ass cheeks as he took a look at your tight asshole. “We'll have countless nights to do that.”

you were about to open your mouth, before he tenderly turned your body over, leaning in to lick the corners of your lips, purposely drooling some of his saliva into your mouth.

“The gods have made us be together, for they know how we belong.” he murmured in between planting kisses on your jaw and throat. “You belong in black and red. I’ll give you the gold anytime you desire it.”

you grow even wetter at his words, pushing your hips up to rub yourself against his already rock-hard cock prominent through his breeches. the feeling did not last long, as one of his hands moved from gripping the sheet next to your head, to pinning your hips down.

“Oh, do you desire me now, rōva mandia?” he whispered, brushing your nose against his. “I’ve grown, sister. I am a man now. A man worthy of you.”

his lips kissed the top of your breasts, before latching onto your nipple, swirling his tongue around it while he kneaded and pinched the other with his hand.

“Ae-aemond,” you whine, your eyes trained on his bulge. you looked up at him and you couldn’t look more possibly beautiful than now. “Fuck me, please.”

“Patience, sister,” he rubbed your stomach, his other kneading your tits. you whined but quickly stopped once he brushed some hair out of your face. “You’ll be given my cock, but beforehand I'll have to taste your sweet essence I’ve been thinking about for years.”

“Aemond, I need it,” you begged him, rubbing your foot all over his crotch to rile him up. “I need you.”

he only let out a satisfied hum, kissing each toe and trailing up to your calves, knees, thighs up until his big hands spread them apart.

you remained too aroused to properly function, letting out a deep breath when his tongue only took one lick of your folds. what followed after was his thumb rubbing your sensitive pussy, having you let out fast breaths.

“Are you not used to having anything other than your husband’s cock touching your cunny?” he asked mockingly, placing a kiss on your wet folds. “Of course not, my sweet sister deserves to get fucked like a whore, and treated like a princess.”

you let out a whine at his words, practically thrusting your hips into his face. he licked at your folds and used the muscles of his tongue to fuck into you pleasurably. he let out a few grunts himself as if he was tasting the sweetest essence ever known. his hand rubbed up and down your thigh as you wrapped them around his head.

he continued tongue-fucking you, occasionally stopping to suck on your sensitive bud, his big hand continued to caress and massage your thighs, slurping up your sweet taste. you let out the most melodious moans he has ever known.

“Valonqar,” you moaned out, thrusting your hips against his face. he sucked and swirled his tongue against your clit. your muscles clench around him tighter and tighter, feeling something build up in your stomach. your body tensed up as his tongue gave his final thrusts.

“Come for me, rōva mandia, come hard for your brother,” he murmured, his tongue making his final trust on your stimulated clit. “Scream my name.”

you finally bursted, your orgasm washing over your. half of the juice shot down Aemond's throat and the other half drooled down his chin. he eagerly slurped up your juices, before rubbing his cum-covered chin against your breasts, rubbing the cum off on your breasts.

“My sister, my love,” he coos, kissing the shell of your ear. “The best woman to give my cock to.”

he got rid of his breeches and pulled out his hardened member, throbbing with pre-cum. he let out a soft hiss as it rubbed against your entrance, teasing you endlessly.

“We should stop,” you say softly. “Anyone could come i- ah!”

you let out a gasp as he began to began to circle your sensitive button with the tip of his erection. his hands were placed on your waist, pinning you down.

“Let them,” he murmured close to your lips, his unoccupied hand coming up to trace his thumb over your bottom lip. “Let them see how a dragon has claimed another dragon. As it should be.”

you moan loudly, feeling him push his fat head into your throbbing pussy. his cock was much better than your lord husband’s, thrusting slowly into your tight heat. his face cane close again to plant suck and kiss on your jawline, holding your face to the side.

“My sister is too beautiful,” he murmured in between occasional quiet grunts, feeling you deeper with each trust. “The only cunt that’s perfect for me.”

he could feel you tightening around him, your sweet eyes looking up at him. his one eye met yours, locking eyes intensely. your gasps and moans, accompanied by clapping sounds lingered around the room. his hand creeped down to knead your breasts, brushing a thumb over your hard nipple. his hips went upwards to thrust deeper. he could hear those telltale cries of ecstasy, and basked in it.

“You wish for me to put a babe inside of you?” he asks mockingly, rubbing your cheek against his hand. “Of course you do. You’re mine, and once that husband of yours knows his place, we will be wed.”

you clenched around him, juices already wetting his cock inside of you. your eyes roll to the back of your head as his hand rubbed your clit. you looked up at him once again, and he looked majestic and vulgarly gorgeous. his hair sticking to his forehead, not as straight anymore now that it’s wet. you were a sight for sore eyes to him as well, your dark hair messy and disheveled, your cheeks red and your neck scattered in hickeys.

after a few moments, you came undone, spilling against his cock. not soon after, he slowed his thrust and shot his load inside of you, a part of him forever embedded within your womb.

“Too beautiful,” he murmured, planting kisses all over your breasts and collarbone. “You have been mine since we were children. You were meant to be my betrothed. Tis I who has always loved you.”

you only smiled, but even that made his heart flutter and his cock twitch. he slowly engulfed you into a kiss, slipping his cock outside of you.

“My children have taken a liking to you,” you smile, rubbing your nose against his. “I’d love for you to stay by our side.”

“Which I will do,” he replied, his big hand rubbing your stomach. “After all, they ought to meet one of their own.”

you were about to attempt to stand up on shaky legs, but his veined hands cupped your face and slowly pinned you back down.

“Do not clean yourself up, rōva mandia,” his melodic voice ringed. “Let us depart to supper with my seed, deep inside of you. The bastard might realise how little chance he makes with you.”

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