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luv-gukkie · 7 months ago

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★ little, naive thing ★

pairing: yandere! jeon jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || yandere

summary: a small cuddle takes jungkook back down memory lane; a time where he could only admire your pretty-self from afar with a burning need to make you his, an idea your little boyfriend wasn’t so fond of.

word count: +4.8k

tags/warnings: cockwarming, boobie kisses, dom! jungkook, sub!reader, jungkook worships reader, he switches up real fast, size difference, smooches here and there, jungkook manhandles reader, he's possessive, degrading comments, public sex? (don't worry? no one catches them), jungkook gets into a fight, he hurts himself, manipulation, jk lies, talk about marriage ;), degrading comments, jungkook gets a tattoo of..., unprotected sex (don't be silly), reader was his first (for EVERYTHING), he's in love LOVE

notes: hope you enjoy it! i’ll try to post the small writing about yoongi soon :)

༻❤︎︎ ★ ★ ❤︎︎༺

"no, no, no, no!" jungkook yells with a small smile as his hands covered his face, acting as if he was sad. you sing out a little chant, sticking your tongue out at him. he can't help but hide his laugh at your taunts and the small dance you do behind his hands. you're so cute, jungkook thinks as he stares at you through the gap between his fingers. the playback of your pink character, cat peach, flashes through the television screen as it shows her first through the finish line seconds before tanooki mario, jungkook's character, crosses through it as well. he groans in pain, "i was so close." he can't believe how good you've gotten at mario kart 8. it's unbelievable how fast you've learned. "wanna know my secret?" you whisper softly as if there were people around you; even though both of you are alone in your shared apartment, with the only witnesses being bam, the big and strong doberman, and cinnabon, your cute, tiny bunny. the pair lay together (similar to jungkook and you) on bam's huge bed, cuddled into each other, hiding behind their floppy ears. with the same mischievous tone, jungkook whispers back, "i have to know." you smile before leaning in closer to his ear and before he knows it, he's backing away, tricked and played. jungkook covers his ear, recovering from your surprise shriek. you giggle at his reaction before going in to leave kisses on his face all around. "sorry", you giggle as he "tries" to get away from you, but it's impossible because you two sit together squished on a bean bag.

as he sees you laugh, memories with you flash through his mind. it takes him back to the start of his love to you; all the way in high school.

jungkook has never been social to begin with. he's always been a little timid and shy compared to others, but it didn't meant he couldn't experience the same things others his age were experiencing. puberty had hit him hard. jungkook had grown too fast over the heat of summer. his voice was no longer of a teenage boy, but one of a grown man. the change into manhood had girls confessing their admiration to him left and right, but he's never been too interested in starting a relationship in the first place. it's not until he landed his eyes onto dainty, little you.

jungkook remembers it was the first day of sophomore year, the summer had tanned him a bit from being a life guard at the public pool and he had grown his muscles. jungkook's eyes wandered around the new classroom, recognizing everyone's faces, but stammering at an almost unrecognizable face. the reddish lipgloss you wear shines on your plump lips, a slight blush on your cheeks and your eyelashes have darkened with mascara. it's clear that he's not the only one who's changed over the summer. your hair is styled perfectly with a nice hairstyle that makes it even cuter. but it's the glimmer in your eyes that attract him the most especially with that faint, flirtatious smile you put on as you smile at the boy who holds your hand. the realization hits jungkook, why the fuck are you holding that boy's hands? that boy probably didn't even know you existed last year so why were you giving him such a lovely look? he thinks he's been staring too long when the guy turns around to glare at him and sticks his middle finger out when you turn around to talk to your friend.

shit.

it would've been a whatever to jungkook, but now, he keeps seeing you everywhere since he's noticed you. and it's not fair that your fucking boyfriend follows you everywhere you go, always in your shadow and never not. and it's like your boyfriend feels notices the glances he throws at you and sends him nasty glares whenever he gets the chance. jungkook fucking hates his ass. hates how he's gotten obsessive over you when he barely knows you; when you don't even know him. he doesn't like the feeling really, but he can't ignore it either so he does everything he can to get the little lovebirds to separate for his sake. eventually a small little rumor breaks things apart and he can't help the little smile that breaks free when the gossip he started reaches his ears. its times like this when jungkook is thankful to the loudmouths his classmates have. and it's like the heavens heard of his prayers when in no time, he had you in his grasp for life.

you don't even find out about jungkook being hurt until your lunch time. the whispers of jungkook's name are loud and seem true enough that you dash out when you hear a short version of the story. you're over the top worried for jungkook. your heart hurts, your eyes are blurring up and sweat is building up on your forehead as you get nearer to the nurse's office. when you find him sitting with a bandages across his arms and hand, fists bloodied and his nose still slightly dripping with blood. and even as the dark bruises are hurting him, red running down his nose and his arms onto the once white bandages, he runs to you with a call of your name and a helpless expression on his face. you let out a painful sob at his delicate form, "jungkookie, this is all my fault. i'm so sorry, you shouldn't be like this." jungkook doesn't deny your claims, tearing into your neck as his arms hug your waist in a tight embrace. you promise to take care of him and you do by spending every single second next to him, making sure he's not hurting. not noticing the sly smile he had on each time you turned around because of how his dumb little girlfriend didn't realize the blood on him wasn't his, but of your ex-boyfriend.

you ignore your ex. can't stand thinking about that stupid idiot, much less seeing him so you make a clear decision to avoid him or anything that has to do with him. sharing your decision with your friends so that they don't even speak of his existence. your blood boils at the fact that he dared to throw insults and then hurt jungkook, provoking you further. unbeknownst to you, your ex-boyfriend was stuck spending his time in the hospital. so it comes to your surprise when you do see him, his arm is in a cast along with his nose covered in white with bruises surrounding it. he's practically limping with each step he takes. when you two make eye contact, your eyes fidget to your phone to tried to avoid him. ignorance that's made harder when he decides to call after you. you're firm as you continue walking but turn around soon after, when you hear the crutches hitting the floor behind each step you take. he whispers about how you should leave jungkook; that there's something wrong with him. but the annoyed look you give him tells him you won't. "leave me alone," is the only thing you utter and before you know it, he's taking your hand as your about to leave and leaning in closer. "___, he's fucking crazy." the terrified look in his eyes is more than enough to scare you, but you're distracted when your eyes spot jungkook's pained ones.

you don’t hesitate to run after jungkook, leaving your ex behind in a hopeless state. you're not able to catch up, but following the sound of his footsteps is good enough to lead you to the back of the school. "jungkook?" you shout for him, wondering where he was. "why are you fucking talking to him?" his harsh tone has you in a ruined state in no time. jungkook has never talked to you in such a way, your mind tells you it's all your fault he's like this. you go to hug him, but all he does is move back and you notice that the tears in his eyes are gone.

jungkook doesn't like what he saw at all. all your words are nothing to him right now; all he feels is anger and jealousy in him. "talking to that piece of shit after he talked bad about you, after he fucking attacked me." he gulps before continuing with a lower tone, "baby, is there absolutely nothing in that pretty little head of yours? you let him hold your hand even after everything. you let him touch what doesn't belong to him." you're crying at this point, telling jungkook that it meant nothing and you only have eyes for him. it's in that moment a light bulb goes on in his head; he's got you right where he wants you. "prove it." his demand confuses you, a small "how?" leaves your lips. you follow his gaze before realizing what he wanted. "will you forgive me?" you question, the hope evident in your mellow tone. "of course, baby." you're about to get down on your knees before he stops you, "nuh uh, pretty," his fingers playing around with the necklace he gave you, "it's something else that i want. c'mon you got this, put two and two together." a mocking tone as he talks to you in a childlike manner. it's in that moment that you realize where both of you still are: school. you don't know how the information left your head, but you shake your head at jungkook. "we're still at school kook, anyone could see us and we could get in trouble." you speak softly, hoping he agrees with you. your palms feel sweaty at his request. it's like a switch-up when he stays quiet for a while, different to how he acted minutes ago but you don't notice. you watch as his bandaged hand tugs a couple of hairs behind your ear.

jungkook wipes his nose with the same bandaged fist that's covered in blood and his bangs slightly reveal the dark purple bruise on his forehead. "please." he begs with a soft voice and with his pretty eyes, you're convinced enough. you just can't deny him, especially after he fought for you; because of you. jungkook got hurt to protect you from that idiot you once called your boyfriend, and you can't help but blame yourself for it. jungkook ruined his reputation for a stupid fight. it's all your fault, so you let him get closer to you. you let him back you up into the hidden corner outside of the school. you wrap your small hands around his neck and let him kiss you. jungkook pushes you into him, his tongue is quick to explore your own. his saliva drips onto your lips and leaves it all messy. his fingers go to unbutton your white button shirt, undoing the blue collar. "you're so pretty, ___." he whines as he licks up your neck in a hurry and sucks it with need until pinkish skin is shown and teeth marks are left. it doesn't help him that the school uniform looks so good on you. the thigh high blue socks the schools requires only feeds on to his desires. and to top it off, you have to wear a blue (mini-looking) skirt with the basically transparent button shirt. and he can't forget the little decorations that you add on, which only fuels his fantasy to have you under him. a little red bow you add on to your hair and the jewelry you add on to your wrist and neck. especially the one that's wrapped around your neck, a sparkling j in the center.

a clear memory goes through jungkook when he raises the skirt he loves on you because it's not the first time he's gotten a peak at what you hide under that skirt; he's seen it multiple times, even before you two started going out but you don't have to know that. he knows he shouldn't have looked, but you wouldn't have minded. would you? either way, he couldn't help it. jungkook's eyes wandered when he was around you. he would ignore the arm that wrapped around your waist (the douche bag you called your boyfriend) and stare hard as fantasies played in his head. he loves the way your tits are so tight in that stupid shirt. he knows he's a pervert for gawking so hard at your ass when you walk pass him, or sometimes taking a peek at what hides underneath. but, he also wished that it was him that was hugging you and kissing you. it would be his dream come true. and maybe, it was just his luck when he saw your panties as you tripped on some rubbish on the ground. thinking that no one was around, you stayed on the ground for a while; whimpering in pain, knees scraped and legs apart, giving jungkook the perfect view of your covered pussy. you didn't wear shorts underneath your skirt, it's like you wanted him to see you in such an intimate way. he swore he felt drool falling out of the corners of his mouth at the sight. he couldn't stop staring (and definitely couldn't forget) at how your body was spread apart on the ground. jungkook doesn't remember how long he stood there before coming to help you, meanwhile trying to hide the hard-on that was growing in frustration. jungkook definitely had luck on his side that day, because soon after, both of you would start to hang out more. it was enough time to indulge your mind and heart.

when you both started dating, you both sat next to each other in almost all your classes. you let his hands play with the trim of your skirt and caress your upper thigh whenever he wanted. ignoring how each time his fingers inched closer to your panties. you were so nice to him. whenever you bent over the slightest, your skirt was basically hanging off your hips, revealing your cute little panties. and now he gets to see them all over again. "shit," he groans at the ache in his cock. you were so enticing with your white panties and the little bow right on the center that he'll never get tired of. but jungkook's too desperate, so he is quick to tug down the flimsy material. quickly choosing to hide it away in his pockets. breath stuttering at your bare, wet cunt. "___, you're so fucking pretty." his finger slides against your slit, immediately getting soaked. his thumb is quick to follow towards your clit, pinching and teasing it until he hears you start to whimper. he turns to you around to place a messy kiss on your lips, tongue dipping in to touch your own as he takes off his pants desperately. his cock is bulging and has left a mess in his boxers, but he pushes it down.

a sigh leaves his lips when his cock stands straight, hitting his abdomen. you don't even get a look before he turns you again and bends you against the brick wall. you feel your heart pound in your chest. "kookie, anyone could find us," you stutter out, a small glob escaping your gaping hole. 'cute', is all he thinks before pressing his hot cock head against your cunt. "shit baby, i have to bend my knees to reach you," he snickers out loud. he can't help the grin that escapes him out of the realization; you're so small compared to him. his shadow completely covers you under him, his hands are huge compared to yours and he can carry you like you're nothing. he's about to press in when you ask if he has a condom. it makes jungkook remember his trip to the pharmacy days before, staring at the pack of condoms he was going to take as he left the store. it brings back the sick pleasure he had then, the need to fuck you raw and full of him. he stands back to his full stature as he softly whispers an apology that he didn't have a single one. he feels slightly angered at the silence you give him, but you wouldn't know because you face the other way. "s' okay kookie i guess." he taunts you in his head, annoyed that you had him standing with a hard cock like an idiot just to ask him for stupid things.

it's already a painful feeling as he pumps his cock. the slit on his tip has precum dribble out. so in return he chooses not to bend down to your height. his hands grip harder onto your hips, the pressure causing you to fuss and arch your back in response. a shriek of his name and a desperate attempt to hold onto the wall distracts you as he lifts you up to the height of his hips by wrapping one arm around your stomach. his other hand directs his drooling cock head into your pussy. as he forces his dick in, your mouth widens as a silent moan escapes you. the tip of his cock is thick and hot. you can hear him pant heavily, calling you sweet names as he watches with heavy eyes as he keeps pushing in until his hips meet your own and the tip shoves right up against your womb.

you can feel tears in your eyes at the way his fat cock is nestled deep inside your cunt. the veins that run down him are perfect and his length excites you. jungkook curses silently as he sees his cock getting drenched off the globs of your slimy slick. he's speechless on how good your pussy feels, surprised he's not busting a nut so far. all he knows is that he'd get on his knees over and over to get just a look at your cunt. it doesn't help that you're practically hanging off his cock, back bending so beautifully to reach him, while your tits are begging to spill out your half-opened shirt. it makes him smug knowing that you could fall if he simply let go of your hips. your legs are dangling mid-air as he fucks you deep and slow for the couple first thrusts before completely switching into a different pace. he feels heavy inside your cunt. all you can think about is him, each time jungkook rams his cock head directly into your sweet spot.

your tiny mouth lets out the dirtiest sultry noises he's ever heard. you sob about how his cock is too big. "kookie," you wail as his cock easily pokes and pushes against your sweet spot and cervix at the same time. you feel the heat from his angry tip that oozes out more chunks of precum, reminding you that he isn't wearing a condom. but you're left dumb with your eyes rolled back when his fingers tease your bud in a hurried pace. jungkook feels your walls squeeze tight on him and it causes a throaty groan to leave his lips. "wet my cock, my pretty baby" he mutters. you shake as jungkook continues stretching your pussy hole out. and with an airless moan, you squirt your juices on his abdomen and the base of his cock. his eyes fill with curiosity at the wetness he feels leak all down his cock and thighs. "s-so perfect for me. little hole gonna be gaping when i leave it. gonna stuff you full of me, isn't that want you want? my little dumb girlfriend wants me to fill her with my cum." jungkook can't help but moan at how your pussy swallows him whole, accepting every inch of him in your hot walls even if he's bigger than you can handle. "gonna be my cock sleeve, perfect for it. wet, little cunt s' clenching around me like a bitch in heat."

he feels the heat crawl up to his face, and it doesn't help that the sweat on his forehead makes his hair stick to his face. he smells your perfume as it begins to stick on him and he fucking loves it. loves that he can grab a full fist of your hair and the only thing you'll do is cry out his name and wet his cock over and over as he goes faster. jungkook leans down to place sloppy kisses down your back, nearing your ear to whisper dirty words that have your cunt clenching tighter around him. the moans you let loose are loud and messy, forgetting your still in school. "people should see how good my baby takes cock, can't compare with no one else, right?" a question you don't answer, or can barely make out with how loud your ass smacks against him. "pussy so filthy and tight, ready to take my cock at anytime and anywhere." you're about to release all over again when jungkook stops to slowly pull back his hips. you whine in frustration, but soon forget when he drags his cock back into your cunt, making sure you feel each vein and curve.

the breathy whines you let out almost drown out the lewd squelches of the bottom of his shaft meeting your bare pussy. jungkook can't hold back the huff, "oh, fuck yes. cute cunt leaking just for me, sucking me right back in," his jaw clenches at how wet you are. each time he sank further, his pace began to pick up with an impatient desire to fuck you harder. "my good girlfriend, s' pretty when she's desperate for cock, my cock." he says mockingly.

"i'm gonna cum," you gasp out with each word. jungkook's fingers make their way to your lips, passing them to reach your tongue. "me too," is all he says before pulling out once more to turn you around and place you right back on his cock. "you look s' fucked out, baby," he whispers with a smug smile on his face, "pussy gonna be nice and stuffed with my cum, yeah?" he's quick to connect your lips together as you squirt from the overstimulation, hiding his desperate groans. you feel his cock spill warm loads of his cum inside you. small curses coming out of his mouth as he continues to runt against you, slobs of cum still leaking into you. you moan at the globs of cum slide down your inner thighs and onto the ground. his voice is soft when he talks to you and carefully holds you onto him. "you're so good to me; my good girlfriend, yeah?" he ignores the way you trace his dark bruises and brushes your hair out. he'll never let that stupid fuck get close to you again. it's not that he's scared of him, but rather of what nonsense he's gonna say. it's best if you don't know that jungkook started the fight, that he went home and hurt himself to make the bruises etched into his skin; smacking his head against the wall until he bled and couldn't think of anything but you and slammed one of his dad's metal tools against his hands to have you next to him, cause jungkook would really do anything for you.

"jungkook, what are you thinking about?" your voice breaks him out of train of thought, "about us." he responds without hesitation, because really, when is he not. his hands rub your waist, slowly taking you onto his lap. you smile at him and it's like he's in love all over again with you. and he hopes you feel the same as he takes his left hand into yours, "i want us to be together forever, ___." you watch the way his doe eyes show you all the love he has for you. you're lucky you've always had jungkook be this affectionate. he's always willing to take you out to a restaurant on late nights, picnics almost every week during the summer, and it's always refreshing to be with him. never once has he failed you, so you can't help the heart-warming feeling in you right now, watching a smile break through his face when you agree with him. "i've loved you from the very start, and i can't wait until we start a new chapter together," he pauses for a while, holding you tighter against his chest, "and you know that i've always wanted to put a ring on your finger, and if you're ready, i'll be more than happy to give you any ring you want." your lips find their way to his as you kiss him with everything you have, "i love you jungkook."

he doesn't even have a chance to respond before you're kissing him again, because you know that he does love you. it's in his eyes; his smile; in everything he does. you're shown love through every gesture he does, like the tattoo he surprised you with last week. big, pretty letters that are deeply inked into the skin of his chest for eternity. these pretty letters that make your name and are surrounded by the soft-feathered wings of beautiful angels. his tattooed hands dig into your hips, angling you on top of his hardened cock. his hand grabbing your jaw, squishing your cheeks and lips as you move your loose shorts to the side. with a harsh tug, jungkook's sweatpants end up at his knees. there's a big pearl of precum on his head, slightly leaking down his base. at the sight, you feel your cunt pulse. jungkook's hands massage your ass as he makes his way back up to unclip your bra. jungkook pumps his cock with your hands, cooing at how small they are. he pushes himself inside your swollen cunt, and it's hard to control himself when your tiny cunt violently clamps around his thick base, taking all of him in. you're moaning desperately into his ear distracting him from your painted nails leaving deep red marks on his abdomen. his lips wrap themselves around you tits, leaving trails of saliva behind before kissing the spots.

"faster, kookie," you cry out as you feel your orgasm at the pit of your stomach. your ass repeatedly meets his pelvis with a burning pain. you're begging for release when his thumb plays with your nub and his mouth is sucking your tits. "little hole dripping all around me, ain't that right baby," a shaky gasp he lets out while his cock makes you reach your high. tears roll down your cheeks at the overstimulation when he grinds himself into your sopping cunt. "gonna make a mess in this pussy," he groans before shoving his warm load deep inside your sore cunt. a little gasp escapes your mouth at how stuffed your tummy is.

just as your hands begin to slide off his shoulders, ready to fix yourself up, jungkook pulls you in close enough that your chest is touching his. you can't even speak when he begins to softly pound into your spent pussy which has you whimpering. there's a cocky grin on his face that you want to wipe off, but it's hard when your oversensitivity makes you weak. with a faint call of his name, jungkook finally halts his sensual motions with a replaced giddy smile, "i love having you in my arms."

as the minutes past, he takes note of your sleepy head dozing off into his neck. jungkook envelopes you into a cozy cuddle as he watches the blarring tv whilst his racing mind drags on with repeated memories of the past; haunting reminders that should never be brought up. he digs his head into your hair, fingers gently kneading into your scalp making his beating heart calm its pace. everything he's done was for you. the thing is jungkook can't limit himself when he's around you. it's a suffocating feeling that indulges every ounce of his body. it fills him with a need to protect you, and it makes him go mad in the head sometimes. it causes him to commit foolish acts of violence against those who he thinks have a role in your life. though, he's gotten better with the persistent idea of becoming a better man for you; a better future husband; a better future father. jungkook's lips turn up at the ends at the sleepy noises you make. "i love you."

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isalisewrites · 6 months ago

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A Deep Dive into JKR's Terrible, Amateur Writing - Part One

Welcome to my new series, where I will prove to you, dear reader, that J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series and resident Twitter TERF, is actually a very, very poor writer.

And when I say 'poor writer,' I'm talking about her prose, her sentence structure, and her scenes. I am not going to discuss anything about the HP world nor the plots of the books.

This is all about the nitty gritty in the craft of writing itself.

Disclaimer for all readers: I'm going to sound very confident in my posts. I'm going to be working under the assumption that I'm a better writer than JKR. Because I am. My apologies if this rubs you the wrong way. You're just witnessing two and half decades of experience with the intensity from a neurodivergent who is hyperfocused on her special interest. I didn't just learn how to create stories; I learned the craft of writing to a minutia of details.

After years of being beaten down by others, I will no longer tolerate that.

I will be using my writing to compare with hers to make some of my points. Some of what I say in these posts could be considered stylistic choices. However, in my humble opinion, most of this is a difference of skill, which can be learned. Yes, everything I'm going to teach and cover in this series can be learned. There's no 'talent' here. You can learn how to become a better writer right here and now. You only have to understand the craft of writing and sentence structure to better improve your prose and scenes.

I don't have fame and money.

I don't need them to teach you how to write better than JKR.

You're free to disagree with my stances about this and about everything I cover, of course. But if you're a writer, you might gain some insight from this post and I sincerely hope you are enriched by my efforts in this. I spent quite a few hours on this post. Helping others become a better writer than JKR is one of the greatest contributions I can give to society.

Thus, take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

I have stated before: JKR's writing is bloated in the wrong places, underwritten in others, and the prose is poor. These problems show up in all of her HP books.

Buckle up, my writing friends. Grab a snack. Hydrate. Let's begin.

Class is in session.

In this post, we're going to dissect a page from HP4.

There's so much wrong with this page and the three pages of this scene overall. So much to go over. Bullet points I'll cover from this page:

Disconnected Dialogue Lines

The Great Sin of Adverbs

Too much fucking dialogue!

Wrong focus altogether in this scene

Out of POV writing

First point. This is a huge ongoing issue I see in all of the HP books. There are a lot of disconnected dialogue lines, which become confusing over time. This could be an issue of the publisher, but it's still a problem. In the middle of this page, we have:

Sirius hesitated. "I've been hearing some very strange things," he said slowly.

Wait, wait, wait. Who said this? Listen, I know. I know it's Sirius. However, this is an improper placement on the page and can become confusing because Harry also goes by he/him pronouns and he's also in this scene. While the dialogue here suggests Sirius is talking, it could easily be misinterpreted if there were other characters or if he said something that Harry could've just as easily said.

To make this dialogue more clear for the reader, it should go as follows:

Sirius hesitated. "I've been hearing some very strange things," he said slowly.

Second point. JKR is an adverb sinner, a criminal. Jail. "Do not pass go; do not collect $200." Arrest her for these blatant crimes, please, for the love of god.

Look, I love adverbs. They're great. Don't fucking listen to anyone who outright demonizes them (including your huffy, uppity literature professors). Adverbs are the seasonings of writing. You season your food; you also need to season your writing when the case asks for it.

However...

Adverbs should always be used sparingly when connected to dialogue tags. The setting in this scene is: Harry is in the Gryffindor Common Room at night crouched in front of the fireplace where Sirius is in the fire in a floo call. I read through the whole scene, though I've only shown one page here.

Harry says a line of dialogue 'slowly' three times and Sirius says a line of dialogue 'slowly' two times.

The same adverb 'slowly' is used FIVE FUCKING TIMES IN THREE PAGES.

I want to scream, not gonna lie here. Set this adverb on fire!

What does this adverb do for us in this conversation? What is so important that we have to be told that five lines of dialogue were said slowly? What do they contribute? Spoiler alert: nothing. What are their facial expressions? Harry is 14. He's exhausted since it's well after 1am or so and he's burdened with the new knowledge of dragons for the first task. He's kneeling in front of a very hot fireplace. There's fire fumes and smoke, potentially. Is he fidgeting? Is he yawning? Rubbing his eyes? Bouncing a leg? Is he picking at the carpet or rug?

Harry is a tired, burdened child.

Show me this!

Now I'm not saying that you can't use adverbs in your dialogue tags. There's a huge difference between "he said softly" and "he whispered." It's about balancing the moment when an adverb says just enough versus an adverb replacing well needed scene enrichment. Let's compare this with a section from my HP time travel fanfiction, Terrible, But Great, Chapter Thirty.

Dumbledore nodded at Monty, pocketing his wand. “Mr. Potter.” “Lo, Professor,” said Monty, pout gone, but still a watchful light in his gaze. “Is there a problem?” asked Dumbledore in a mild tone. Ice slipped in between Tom’s ribs, piercing his flesh. Monty tilted his head. “No, sir.” Oh, but Tom knew better. He could see through that innocent facade. The man could’ve been a Slytherin for how much he was cataloguing every little detail, from Tom’s appearance, to the content of the selected books, and to the supplies of ink, quill, and parchment scattered on the surface of the table. Tom masked the raw, whirling feelings in his chest with a well practiced blank, emotionless expression. He willed himself to hide. “Nothing at all, sir,” said Tom lightly. “Young Mr. Potter was regaling me about his friendship with Miss Malfoy.” Monty glanced at Tom, brows furrowing. Those blue eyes were piercing, filled with suspicion. “Was he now?” Dumbledore said; though his tone was still without direct accusation, Tom could hear the hint of it. “Then, may I ask, why a silencing charm was necessary for such a benign conversation?” Tom wet his lips. His throat was dry. “I thought it wise to avoid disturbing others in the library.” “I am awfully loud,” said Monty with a sage nod. “Ah. A noble intent. However, it is not an appropriate use of magic in the library,” said Dumbledore, his gaze firm as it bore down on Tom. “Ten points from Slytherin. I think it’d be wise to take your studies to your common room, Mr. Riddle.” “Yes, sir,” whispered Tom.

I only used "said Tom lightly" once in this section to show Tom attempting to be unaffected by Dumbledore's interference. I did not dialogue dump information in giant chunks. I did utilized actions tags versus adverbs, like Monty tilting his head or Tom licking his lips. I suspect that if JKR had written this scene, she'd have used lines like:

"No, sir," said Monty curiously.

"I thought it wise to avoid disturbing others in the library," said Tom nervously.

The adverbs that JKR's uses add nothing to her scenes. They're just thrown into them without a thought. Did she even reread this scene after she wrote it? I cringe in agony if I use an uncommon word more than three or four times in an entire 4,000 to 7,000 word chapter, let alone the same adverb five times in three pages. Good grief.

There are two other adverbs used in this page, hastily and bitterly. Hastily does nothing for the scene and is connected to another issue, but I'll go over that in the end. However, bitterly is one of the adverbs I'd keep. It gives us a glimpse into Harry's feelings here. We need more of this, but we got nothing.

Thus, the overuse of adverbs in JKR's dialogue detracts and steals so much from the scene.

Third point: there's too much dialogue and no description whatsoever. Again, the adverbs are a pathetic attempt to give us something, but they're thrown in there without a damn forethought. We're missing the crackle of the fire and the smell of it. We're missing Sirius' facial expressions. We're missing Harry moving around on the floor, fidgeting, yawning, rubbing his eyes, feeling the heat of the fire, bouncing his legs, picking at the rug, something, anything, etc.

The dialogue is bloated with a terribly boring conversation. It's just endless dialogue with nothing else. No, it's awful. Welcome to the fourth bullet point. This scene focuses on the entirely wrong point. This scene is 100% a plot device and it's terribly done as well. It's three pages about Karkaroff being a Death Eater--oh no he might be trying to kill you, Harry, aaaaaa--and something about Bertha Jorkins being near Voldemort's last location. Meh. Who cares. Somebody has been trying to kill Harry in every book thus far. This isn't a new development, sweetie.

We been done know this, okay? Come on.

This is a stilted, unnatural conversation between Harry and Sirius. It's not realistic. It's not normal. Telling Harry about the Karkaroff's past is boring and does nothing for him. One line, maybe two, for Sirius to say, "Hey, keep an eye out for Karkaroff. He's an old Death Eater." Done. End of Karkaroff information. And cut Bertha Jorkins out altogether. I'm sorry, but why the hell are we talking about a dead woman to a 14 year old kid whose biggest problem at the moment is dealing with a jealous friend, school ostracization, and a giant fire breathing lizard???

These points are important to the plot, but they're not important to Harry.

The plot isn't important. No, it's not.

Harry is the POV character.

Harry is the single most important aspect in every scene and should be treated as such.

The plot should weave around Harry, slowly revealing itself to both Harry and the reader. Harry should not be the weaver of the plot. He should not be used in plot devices.

Do you know what part of the conversation was summarized in the prose between Harry and Sirius in a single paragraph versus the three pages about Karkaroff?

Harry talking about how no one believes him about not putting his name in the Goblet of Fire. About the school hating him. About Ron, about his betrayal and his jealousy. About Rita Skeeter. About seeing the dragons as the first task. These are all important to Harry. These all are causing pain to Harry's heart right now. Somebody give this child a hug, please.

We missed out on exploring Harry's feelings here. The author skips the MOST important part of the conversation, what could've been a deeply emotional, either positive or negative, conversation between Harry and Sirius.

Oh, this scene could've been so good. It could've been amazing. There are so many paths that could've been explored here, too.

We could've had a callous Sirius, who doesn't notice Harry's state of being, and just goes on and on about nothing of importance where Harry clams up. Or we've could've had a comforting Sirius, who attempts to give Harry some actual advice about his friendship with Ron. We could've seen Harry opening up in his body language, connecting with this parental figure in his life. We could've heard a story of Sirius' time as a kid at school with Harry's father and the marauders.

We were robbed of an important moment between Harry and Sirius.

Instead, the author puts the focus on the red herring 'foreshadowing' of Karkaroff. What a waste. She's trying to put suspicion on him, rather than Moody/Barty Crouch Jr., the real Death Eater in disguise. Again, who cares. It's not about them. It's about Harry and how his experiences are affecting him. It's about how he reacts to them.

This scene is a waste of time and paper. It's empty of emotion and movement/flow. It's just there for a set up and it's glaringly obvious during a second read of the book.

When I say, "The writing is bloated and underwritten at the same time." this is what I mean. We're focusing on the wrong things here.

Fifth point. JKR breaks the POV character with the following line:

"--and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm," Sirius said hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, "but...

Harry is the POV character. Sirius 'seeing Harry about to speak' should NOT be occurring in the prose whatsoever. To fix this with the bare minimum of effort for this poorly written dialogue line:

"--and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts--" Harry opened his mouth to interject, but Sirius said hastily, "Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm, but..."

I wouldn't write these lines like this, by the way. I just don't want to rewrite this. It's a poor paragraph overall, but this is an example of returning the POV back to Harry. Sirius isn't 'seeing' anything anymore. Harry is doing an action and Sirius reacts to his action.

Breaking POV is a rule that can be occasionally broken, but should be done so with intent and purpose. I'm pretty confident when I say that JKR probably had no idea that this was a mistake on her part in the prose.

All right then.

We have come to an end of Part One in this series. We have dissected a single page and a single scene in JKR's Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. The page in question is 333 should you wish to look it up and study the scene yourself.

More to follow because I have lots of pages to go over. This will definitely be series, ah dear.

And so, please do the world the greatest of favors and write better than J.K. Rowling. I promise, it's not that hard once you see the differences.

Until next time.

Isa

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marthawrites · 10 months ago

Note

could you write smut for Aemond like prompts 1, 15, 11, 52, 49, 25, 13, and 26? They are all so good 🥹 Reader could be his betrothed (Targaryen would be perfect but if you aren't comfortable then Stark is great) and Aemond didn't want to wait until the wedding

Hello dear nonnie! You requested this back in September - I apologize for making you wait so long for this story. If you're still around I hope it's what you want, and that you enjoy this rendition of Aemond and his (fanon) niece!

Shadows, Beastsong, and Dragonblood

Aemond Targaryen x niece reader

Word count: 7.6k+ (whoops)

About: Growing up you and your uncle Aemond always shared a special kinship. As you grew older, tension between your family and his rose. Moving to Dragonstone led to long years of not seeing each other. When you and your mother visited her father, King Viserys, yours and Aemond's relationship changed. It changed further, years later, upon your final visit to the capitol.

Includes: Fluff, angst, tension, and smut. Featuring incest (uncle x niece), mentions of Aemond's virginity loss at the brothel, mentions of minors sexually experimenting, male receiving oral sex, vaginal fingering, adult reader's virginity loss, and unprotected vaginal sex.

Note: Hello lovely reader! This story follows canon events. HERE is the prompt list used. Reader is technically a Velaryon!Strong bastard who personally identifies as a Targaryen because she looks just like her mother, Rhaenyra. Reader is implied to have pale skin, silver hair, and purple eyes - everything else is entirely up to you. Rhaenys has her canon black hair in this fic. I heavily debated about breaking this into three parts but decided to keep it as a single story. This fic has many firsts for me and it's different than those I've written in the past. It took a lot of effort and I hope you enjoy it!

The years following Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon’s marriage bared fruit after fruit. It wasn't long long after Jacaerys’ birth that Rhaenyra began to show signs of another pregnancy. A woman’s body goes through tremendous changes during, for, and after childbirth, and sometimes her moon cycle can take half a year to return to normal. The princess’ first moon’s blood after his birth hadn’t the chance to appear before the maester’s deemed her pregnant for a second time.

Another boy, Laenor hoped, to help strengthen the Velaryon line. A healthy babe, Rhaenyra hoped, to love and grow.

Their second child was pinker and paler than Jace upon entering the world. Unlike your brother who had a fine covering of dark hair over his head, yours was so pale it looked akin to winter’s first snow upon your head. A tiny, sweet, healthy baby girl who would grow into the very image of your mother.

And, again, after you came into the world, Rhaenyra showed signs of pregnancy soon after. Laenor got what he hoped for with their third child: another boy, Lucerys, with a splattering of dark hair over his head, too.

Another three years would pass before your little brother, Joffrey, was born. Dark of hair and dark of eyes just like his two older brothers.

As you all grew, none of your brothers showed any signs of Targaryen or Velaryon features. They all had rich brown eyes, dark curly hair, and were quicker to tan than you. Whereas you were a copy of your mother. A true Targaryen beauty: silver hair, pale skin, and eyes the color of amethyst. If Rhaenrya was the Realm’s Delight, then you were the Charm of the Realm. The only thing you lacked as a Targaryen was a dragon. Disappointingly, the egg that was placed in your crib never hatched. The older you grew, and the more you learned of the world, the more you hoped to have a dragon of your very own one day. Rides on Syrax with your mother–thrilling as they were–left you sad. You wanted to be in charge of the reins. You wanted to speak and command a dragon. You wanted the power of your Targaryen ancestors; a conqueror like Queen Visenya or Queen Rhaenys.

You and your brothers grew alongside your uncles, Aegon and Aemond, and your aunt, Helaena, in King’s Landing. As young children you all, for the most part, got along well. You and your uncle Aemond shared one profound thing together: neither of you had a dragon. It was a topic of extreme sensitivity for him. And because of this, sadness, anger, and even embarrassment hung around him from a young age. You wouldn’t lie and say you didn’t carry those emotions in your heart, too, because you did, but Aemond’s was heavier. Suffocating.

Shameful.

When everyone else trained in the dragonpit you and Aemond were known to stay in the library together. You bonded quickly through tales of your shared ancestry, love of philosophy, and the histories. Much to Aemond's annoyance, your penmanship surpassed his own. When you told your mother you wanted to be a scribe when you grew older she laughed. “Princesses aren't scribes. You will do much more wondrous things than live your life by the quill.”

You nodded, ever sweet to your mother, and still practiced your writing. Your septa and parents praised you–and Aemond scowled in your retellings. It made you giggle. It was harmless and the extra attention (however negative it seemed to be) from your uncle who was barely older than you made your heart soar; emotions you couldn’t quite name soared too.

He surpassed you in everything physical. If it happened in the training yard, he had you beat by a league.

You surpassed him in subtlety. At first, you were the one who snuck up on him. You were the one who showed him secret passageways in the Red Keep, as well as hidden nooks and crannies that had surely been forgotten.

It didn’t take Aemond long to exceed your skill, however.

Time went on and life continued. With each passing year the innocence of childhood melted like candlewax. You all stopped playing as often until play happened no longer. When once there were shared sweets, games of tag, and exaggerated stories of ‘grand adventures’ to the stables, now there was gossip. Whispered words, sniggers behind hands, and an air of aloofness that had never been there before took over.

“Why do you and your family treat me and my brothers like this now, uncle?” You asked Aemond with flushed cheeks and eyes filled with unshed tears. Whether it were anger or hurt he could not tell. Your heart couldn't, either.

“They look nothing of their father. Or my sister,” he answered plainly with an edge of something you couldn't quite decipher.

“And what of our cousin Rhaenys? Hm? The Baratheon blood runs strong in her for she is black of hair. No different than my brothers!”

“‘Tis different,” Aemond answered curtly, still refraining from speaking bluntly to you about what his mother gossiped about.

“It's not!” You proclaimed.

Not long after that confrontation did Laena Velaryon suffer an unfortunate death. Her funeral was memorialized in King's Landing with the closest of her kin. And, as the God's would have it, it was that fateful night Aemond gained a dragon–Vhagar, the largest and oldest in the world–in exchange for his eye.

A small price to pay for the way the young prince would bloom beneath her wings.

Rhaenyra’s family, as well as Alicent’s family, were all summoned by King Viserys to make sense of what happened to Aemond and why it happened. Tension swelled and crackled through the collected room like living storm clouds. You stood quietly behind your mother, purple eyes wide and scared as you surveyed the chaos. Even as all the kids yelled over one another trying to make their side of the story heard, you didn’t utter a peep. How desperately you wanted to ask Aemond himself what happened. How terribly you wanted to hold his hand through the pain of his slashed face being stitched up. How awfully you wanted to kiss him if only to let him know he could still feel something–to see if he could still feel something.

The King seemed to hold no love for his son as he asked him–ordered him–to tell the truth. You felt your heart breaking as you witnessed father and son hold a stare off that could alight the entire room aflame. Two dragons, one old and one young, challenging each other, daring each other, their teeth seconds away from rending into the other.

The following moments were a blur and you didn’t realize what was happening until Alicent ran to your mother with her husband’s dagger clenched in her hand. You screamed and were pulled away in time to not get pushed or stumbled over. Blood spilled and the tension broke in a devastating clash of emotions. Emotions you, as a child, couldn’t understand, not fully.

Kings Landing was no longer safe for your family.

During the following days, before departing for Dragonstone, you were able to sneak to Aemond a handful of times. He didn’t talk much. You never pressured him to. Often, it was only silence and your uncle’s soft sobs that filled the otherwise quietness of his bedchamber. It was at the peak of those times, those heart wrenchingly raw moments, that you would sing to him. Admittedly you were no singer–flat most of the time and awkwardly sharp at others–but neither of you cared. You weren’t even sure if the song you sang was proper in its pacing and pronunciations. It was a song you both deemed secret: learned from the pages of an Old Valyria history book, paced to your own tune, the ancient words were sung with all the wonder of adolescence.

Vhargar and Aemond’s bond had already been forged by grit, determination, and a kind of stupidity that only young boys held, and it grew by the day. You weren’t sure if Vhagar’s roars were louder while Aemond quietly sobbed into your comforting embrace, or while he was utterly silent. You wondered what brewed beneath the surface during those times. Part of you was afraid of what that silence might gestate. There were many tales of beasts being soothed by music, and so you sang and hoped your ancient song might keep his beast at bay.

“We’re leaving for Dragonstone at first light, uncle,” you said to him a little sadly. You hadn’t ever been away from Aemond. Would the libraries at Dragonstone offer the same respite as the ones here at King's Landing? Would you see hopeful glimpses of him from the corner of your eye only to realize it a play of your imagination?

While he acknowledged your words he didn’t say anything in reply.

“When do you think we’ll see each other again?” You asked softly, tentatively.

“Likely when we are grown and free to make our own decisions,” he answered, words flat.

It stung. It hurt. “Then I shall tame one of the wild dragons and fly to visit you.” Aemond’s single eye, that lovely hue so similar and so different to your own, glittered at you for the briefest second. So he can still feel things, you thought to yourself. The corner of his mouth twitched in tandem, and before you could stop yourself you learned forward and pressed the gentlest kiss to the outside of his mouth. You didn’t stay to catch his reaction for you turned on your heel and walked down the secret passage from whence you came; naught more than a whisper of silken skirts.

Such affection would be improper by Gods and men alike if you were born of a different bloodline. The Targaryens were closer to Gods than men, however, and so you did not have to play life by man’s traditions. The blood of the dragon runs thick, and your heart pulled to Aemond. A surge of energy rushed through you and you wanted nothing more than to kiss him properly. But when you turned to look over your shoulder, you only saw darkness. He was already gone.

II.

Dragonstone’s libraries were much different than the big library in the Red Keep. Over the following years, you finally, slowly, began to feel peace akin to what you and Aemond shared. Similar, but not quite.

Rhaenyra married her uncle Daemon and they had given you two more little brothers: Aegon and Viserys. Part of you missed life in King’s Landing with its bright sunshine, lavish gardens, and wide populace. Despite the grimness of Dragonstone, however, this place truly felt like home. An ancient seat of Targaryen glory, the the Targaryen's of old spared nothing while crafting this castle with arcane arts, dragonfire, and sorcery. The fabled magic of it sent your veins thrumming. If it weren’t for Aemond you might not ever want to go back to King’s Landing. Aegon’s garden was your favorite place in all of Dragonstone with its tall dark trees, wild roses, and thorny hedges. You wrote diary entries as well as letters there. You and Aemond wrote back and forth a few times over the years, but just like in childhood when games of chase were played no more, your letters, too, stopped. Still, the garden with its piney scent and tart cranberries remained your place of solace.

A letter from King Viserys arrived some time after you’d turned fifteen. Rhaenyra pulled you aside that same day, away from your brothers, and said, “father’s health is beginning to fail. I'm going to see him. Daemon said he will stay here while I visit on dragonback. Would you like to come with me? I’d love for you to. And I know Syrax would too,” she smiled hopefully, giving your forearm a gentle squeeze in annunciation.

You blinked, slightly taken back, before beaming a bright smile. “Of course, mother! I miss my grandfather and would love to see him.”

“I’ll send a raven. Perhaps he will have a belated nameday gift for you,” your mother answered with one of her playful expressions.

A return letter was indeed sent and over the next few days Rhaenyra and Daemon made plans for the upcoming week. It wouldn’t be a long stay but that didn’t stop excitement from crawling up your spine and settling in your belly. How would uncle Aemond be? It’d been so long since you two had seen each other! It'd even been a long time since you wrote to one another. Would he remember you as you remembered him? Would he even care to see you?

You donned your warmest wool and most comfortable leathers for the flight to King’s Landing. Gray clouds broke to open blue sky and the brisk salty air had you feeling like you were in charge of the flight. Syrax knew the way well and flew right where she knew to–the dragonpit.

There wasn’t a grand welcome for your arrival and yet somehow it felt more comfortable than being paraded around for hours on end and being forced to entertain a grandiose feast. Viserys–he did look ailing, much more than you last remembered–and Alicent welcomed Rhaenyra and yourself. Ser Criston Cole and Aemond stood with them.

He did want to see you!

“Father! I’m sorry we haven’t been back sooner. Daemon and I–”

Excited hugs were exchanged between the three of you, and the conversation droned out as pressure built behind your ears; dull ringing taking over as anxiety, excitement, and something else unnamed thrilled along your spine. Aemond, only a short time older than you, was no longer the boy you remembered. He’d grown tall and sharp. Any softness of childhood melted away during the last few years. Placed over his damaged left eye was a simple black leather eyepatch. It stood out starkly against his pale complexion–though, it matched the rest of his black leather attire. His slash healed well, you thought privately, but a gnarly scar remained. It looked painful.

Aemond peered at you looking at him; keen. Something simmered beneath his eye and you were reminded of singing to him all those years ago–how you’d hoped to soothe any beast that might be growing in the shadows. The corners of his bowed mouth quirked.

“Darling?” Your mother asked, her voice finally making sense in your head as she turned to regard you closer. “Are you feeling okay?”

With a quick flutter of blinks you looked up to her. “Sorry. Yes, I’m feeling alright. A bit tired from the flight is all. May I have a snack before supper?”

“Of course,” she replied with a reassuring squeeze of your hand.

Alicent smiled. You always thought her pretty. A part of you wondered how none of her children shared her brown eyes or auburn hair. “Check with the kitchen. I’m sure there’s breads and cheeses available at the very least. Wine, too, I imagine.” She looked between you and Aemond before adding, “let Aemond take you. He’s been quite excited to see you since Rhaenyra’s letter.”

“Uncle,” you breathed, surprised by your lack of breath upon saying his name. “I daresay I barely recognize you.”

“I could say the same, niece. It's been many years,” he said with an inclination of his head. “You are looking a little faint. Let’s find you some food, hm?” He asked.

At first, conversation proved to be sparse. Before, things had always been so easy with Aemond and silence had always been comfortable. Now, it didn’t feel easy nor did the silence feel comfortable. Anytime you looked up at him, or over to him, he was already looking at you. His attention barely seemed to wander elsewhere. You ate until you felt better while Aemond pretended to eat. Slowly, with effort on your part, conversation picked up. Before too long the air of awkwardness lifted and your shoulders relaxed.

Aemond seemed to notice, too.

Three days followed and each proved to be more eventful than the last. You’d met up with your aunt and uncle, Helaena and Aegon, and happily–even if Aegon's jests were more perverse than you ever remembered–caught up with them. They were married now. Though, you saw no sort of physical or emotional connection between them. You liked Helaena; you wondered, privately, if life was treating her well, and if she found any enjoyment within it. The faraway look in her eyes suggested not, but you remembered her always being a peculiar child. She didn’t always have both feet in this world, you realized, and you didn’t feel any sort of jealousy for her otherworldly gift. Did dreamers fall into a silent abyss while slumbering? Or did they even dream when they slept, resulting in a never ending barrage of sight and madness?

On the fourth day Aemond introduced you to Vhagar. Sympathy–or perhaps pity–shone in his eye when you told him you still hadn’t bonded with a dragon. “And here I remember you saying you would tame a wild dragon so you might fly across the sea to visit me?” He proclaimed with an arch of brow, snark and jest in equal measurements.

“It’s not quite so easy. I enjoy my skin and my hair. I have heard many tales of brave men trying to bond with those dragons only to end up as a pile of ash. Or forever scarred. Or–” you lowered your voice and tipped closer to him, adding with a whisper, “–lacking of limbs.” You tilted your chin, purple eyes glittering with playfulness; teasing, testing.

“Hm,” he stifled a laugh with a press of his lips. “Both of those are a marvel. It would very much be a shame to scathe the beauty of Old Valyria.”

Your heart jumped and you blushed. Surely he was only being kind, right?

He flew you on Vhargar until the spilled watercolors of sunset mottled into gray. Upon returning to the Red Keep, tucked away in one of your secret childhood places, Aemond dared to kiss your lips. Stunned and exhilarated alike, you returned the affection with fervor. He wasn’t your first kiss, but the things that sparked and webbed through your body were much more intense than any before. “Aemond…,” you whispered against his mouth. “We shouldn’t be doing this, uncle.”

“You can stop any time,” he rasped in reply, eye dark.

In a shuddered breath you admitted, “I don’t want to.”

“Me either.”

You kissed until voices and footsteps filled the nearby corridor. Hiding your giggles behind a hand, you slunk away in direction to your chamber leaving Aemond behind. You turned to see where he might be going. Already he’d turned on his heel and strode in the opposite way. He didn’t follow. That night–with a thundering pulse– you dreamt of wild roses, flying, and your hands on your uncle’s chest while he kissed your neck.

The following day was yours and your mother’s last day in the capitol. She intended to leave after lunch, and until then she let you do as you please. Requesting, of course, to be back in time to leave on time. With how much you missed the rest of your family you could only imagine how much she missed them!

“Come to Dragonstone with us. I don’t want to leave you so soon. I can show you all my favorite places at home. At the ancient seat of our family,” you added the last bit with bright eyes in hopes of seducing him away with you.

“My place is not there,” replied Aemond. “I am to stay here with my mother and siblings. ‘Tis my duty as second son.”

You knew, as second son, that Aemond would have to carve his own path with fire, blood, and teeth–heavy emphasis on the latter, most likely.

“Daemon can train you. Our castle yard has an impressive training pit. It’s different from the one here. Everything is different there. There’s some nights when the magic in the walls makes my blood sing. There is no magic like that left here,” you tried to coax him further, stepping close so you had to look up at him with soft eyes. Eager eyes.

Instead of accepting or denying your request he leaned down and kissed you like he did yesterday. And just like yesterday you warmly accepted the affection. The blood of the dragon runs thick, and dragonblood runs hot. Despite your relation, and despite yourself, you found yourself wanting. Needing. He was too. You could tell by the tightness of his pants. Two young dragons hidden away amongst sparse candlelight in a secret passage perhaps only Maegor the Cruel knew of. “I’ve always wanted to try something. Will… will you let me?”

He pulled back to peer at you curiously. “What is it?”

Slowly, running on an instinct that any wanton young woman harbored, you sank down onto your knees before him. “You can tell me to stop at any time. Okay?”

Aemond wasn’t an idiot. He nearly spent in his pants at the very sight of you lowering like that. Aegon had taken him to a brothel on the Street of Silk for his thirteenth nameday, and he lost the last innocence of boyhood within those perfumed walls; a secret not many knew. And, perhaps less knew how much he despised it–how it disgusted him. The thought still made his stomach turn.

But you? His beautiful, perfect niece, with your epitome of Targaryen beauty?

He never asked you to stop as you sated your curiosity. The rush of sensation that blazed through his body was more intense than anything he’d yet experienced. At the peak of his pleasure he swore he blacked out.

He returned the gift as best as he could with his fingers.

You barely made it back in time to your mother to fly back home. You sincerely hoped she didn’t ask any questions about where you were or why you were running late.

III.

As the Gods would have it, it would be another few years before Rhaenyra and her family were summoned to King’s Landing for, perhaps, an even more dire situation than the first: the legitimacy of Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark and its throne. It was a matter already settled many years ago by none other than King Viserys. Yet, still, conflict stirred with Vaemond Velaryon and his proclamation.

A never ending political headache for the King who’s health was in such despair it was a miracle he lived to see each new morning.

Similar to when you and your mother arrived three years prior, there wasn’t a grand welcome awaiting your family. In fact there was… nothing. Tension sparked to new heights and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into yourself and disappear. While not entirely disappearing, you and your brothers made way to the private guest bedchambers; Rhaenyra made sure to have rooms arranged for all of you prior to arriving. Before leaving, she told all of you that she would summon you later once things were settled. Or supper. Whichever came first.

Truthfully you had no plans to eat with everyone. Uncaring of any potential consequence it might bring you loosened your hair, stripped down to your shift, and plopped in bed so heavily that a plume of dust rose from the sheets. If you were less exhausted–mentally and physically–you’d be repulsed by the dust. Right now? You cared little.

Slumber washed over you like the waves you were so used to at home.

You didn’t wake until hours later when a servant rapped over and over upon your door. “My lady? Hello?”

Coughing and turning to face the doorway, you asked, “what is it?”

A young girl stepped inside and bowed. “Your mother has summoned you for dinner.”

“Bring me a plate, please. I have no wish to eat with a crowd tonight.”

She twisted her hands a few times as if in disapproval but said nothing. Instead, she simply nodded, bowed again, and left with a click of the door.

That night you ate alone and silently hoped Aemond would come find you. Surely he knew ways around the Keep that would lead him to you... But, he never did. After eating your fill you slept like the dead.

Sunrise gently woke you and gradually you began to prepare for the day. Once ready to get dressed, you were confused to see your dress on the floor instead of on the back of the chair you hung it over last night. Strange… you thought to yourself, scanning around the room for what might have caused it. A section of curtain fluttered with morning breeze and when you walked to inspect it you realized the window had been partially cracked. You laughed a short sound and rolled your eyes–how silly to be paranoid about the breeze. You couldn’t remember any strong gusts last night, but you did sleep very hard.

Fully around, now, you made your way to find breakfast. Eventually you did and broke fast with your brothers. For a few moments it felt like you were all children again. Talking, laughing, stealing bits of food off each other’s plates, it felt… good. Homey. Lighthearted in a way only they could make you feel. Once finished, they departed for the training yard and you went to explore the gardens. There might not be any wild roses here and the hedges might be considerably less thorny than those at Dragonstone, but that didn’t stop you from missing it.

Flowers, shrubs, and trees were in full beautiful display and their fragrances sent you right back to childhood. You lost track of how long you wandered. At least a full hour, surely. Likely more. It wasn’t until you heard your name spoken behind you that you snapped back to reality. Turning to look over your shoulder, you stuttered, excited and surprised, “Aemond!”

He stood taller and sharper than he did three years ago. He was a man grown, now, just like you were a woman grown. Gone were any traces of awkward lankiness. He was slim, yes, but judging by the width of his shoulders he had a strong back and arms. “Niece,” he replied. “Your brothers graced my training session earlier. As did Vaemond Velaryon and his entourage,” he paused to inspect a bit of dirt on his sleeve before folding his arms behind his back. “I thought perhaps your strong brothers might grow into their Velaryon features as they aged. But, alas, they haven’t.”

Prick.

Was he really going right for your throat? Immediately?

“Do you have so little faith in your sister’s lineage” You asked, hands folding behind your back, mirroring him, as you slowly closed the distance between yourselves with deliberate steps. “Myself and all my brothers were grown in the belly of a dragon. Birthed into this world by a dragon. Tell me, uncle, how is that any different than being seeded by a dragon?”

“It is not my sister’s lineage I lack faith in, dear niece, it’s the roots she climbs.”

Fury heated your face and for a moment you considered punching him in his stupid, sharp, beautiful nose. Or perhaps kneeing him in the root he no doubt made reference to. In the span of three heartbeats you settled for neither and instead gave him a disappointing quirk of mouth. “And here I was upset that you didn’t come to say hi to me last night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I saw you plenty last night.” he said, tone making it seem like everyone watched you sup together even though you ate alone.

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Did you come find me to be rude, or was there another reason you graced my company?”

“We recently received a collection of books from Myr. Would you like to look at them with me?” Hopefulness briefly lit his features. Idly, you wondered what his deal was. He was an outright asshole only a moment ago, and now he offered to read with you like you did so often as children? The library always had been a place of solace for both of you. Mayhaps he was simply nervous today, on edge, and let the ugliness of anxiety guide his tongue. It would be quiet in the library–the perfect place to, perhaps, connect once again as adults.

You continued to look up at him, attempting to read his features, before replying, “sure. Only if we can have tea and scones too.”

It was his turn to squint at you suspiciously.

That made you laugh; tension began to ease around both of you. “I won’t get crumbs on the pages. Promise!”

And so, walking shoulder to shoulder, you both made way to the library. Tea and scones arrived shortly afterward. As soon as you began reading from different tomes conversation began to flow more freely. Nerves might be flying wild everywhere else in the Red Keep, but here? Safely within these walls? You relaxed. Aemond relaxed. There were no more subtle jabs at bastardry, nor Driftmark, nor anything else. Every now and then you’d laugh and Aemond would smile. Other times it was perfectly silent. When you thought him engrossed by something he read, you eyed him carefully through your peripheral vision–and sometimes with your full vision–trying to keep rising sensations at bay. Despite his sharp tongue and rude quips, he was horribly handsome. You thought he was the last time you were here, too, and now those same feelings intensified to new heights. You caught him doing the same to you. Though, he didn’t coyly turn away when caught. Tension of a different sort heated the air around both of you.

Hot-blooded.

Dragonblood.

You ate supper with your mother that night. She and Daemon discussed things from earlier in the day but you paid it little mind–yours was still on Aemond.

After supper you had a quiet night in your bedchamber. You requested a bath, and it didn’t take the servants long to prepare it for you. Soaking in the hot water was exactly what you needed–complete with your favorite oils generously added to the water until sweet florals and subtly spicy scents lingered around you. By the time you were done your fingers and toes were wrinkly and the water was tepid at best. Sitting in front of the vanity, you dried and braided your silver hair for bed. The day’s events–Aemond–proved to be mentally exhausting. Conflicting emotions warred in your mind as you laid in bed and started up at the neat lace underlay of the four poster bed’s silken drapes.

A noise at your door startled you from whatever daydream danced in your head. How was it opening? You triple checked the lock! Who was coming inside? Frozen and wide eyed, you couldn’t move from your spot upon the bed as someone silently intruded. As the figure stepped out of the shadowy frame you took note of their height, body shape, and silver hair… “Aemond!?” You asked shrilly. “Seven Hells what on earth are you doing?”

“Coming to pay a proper visit to my little niece, of course,” he answered with quiet amusement. Standing at the side of your bed, now, he tilted his head and continued, “I requested a specific guard for this duty tonight so I could slip past him.”

You looked up at him as he looked down at you, regarding you closely. Something shone behind his eye and you couldn’t quite put a finger on it. A rush of emotion rose and settled in the pit of your belly as Aemond gently dragged his thumb across your lower lip. Down the curve of your chin. You swallowed thickly. “You could have just as easily knocked like any regular person would, uncle,” you said.

“What's the fun in that?”

Silence followed as you both took each other in, that unknown expression behind his eye becoming more clear. Lust.

Did your own gaze mirror it too? The sound of your blood filled your ears.

“Do you remember the last time you were here? When we were in that passageway all alone?” He asked, tracing the backs of his fingers along your pretty face.

Of course you did. You smiled–coy–and tipped your head into his touch. “Quite well.”

A soft satisfied hum accented the curve of his mouth. “Good.” His fingers pressed against the underside of your chin as he tilted your face up to him, embers sparking through the eye contact. “I've searched for that type of release again and again and have yet to find it,” he said; desperation and intensity so evident you knew he meant it.

Shivers took over your entire body and your spine arched forward, curving as if to seek the sensation of his body against yours. “You have?” You asked between parted lips.

“I have.”

A hot rush of excitement overcame you and before you knew it both of your hands pulled on the buckles of his tunic, pulling him down to you. You kissed him fiercely and he returned it with ferocity. There wasn't anything tentative about it; lips, tongue, teeth, all meshing until you whimpered into his mouth.

Aemond pushed you back on the bed and fell atop you, one arm holding him up for support, as his silken hair draped along his face. He was so warm, and felt so good over you, that you moaned into his kiss again; he swallowed it whole.

You whined, voice raspy and sweet alike, as you tugged on the front of his belt, “again. I want to do it again,”

“Look at you, so needy for my cock,” he rumbled against your neck, kissing and nipping along the sensitive flesh. He grinned warmly into the crook there and you giggled.

Pushing yourself up on your elbows you turned your body so you could push him onto his back. The startle of his angular lovely face was more than enough reward. With the new position you could feel how hard he was inside his pants, and you wondered if he could feel your heat through the thin material of your smallclothes. You slid down the front of his body until you knelt delicately on the floor. Looking up at him as innocently as you could, your hands ran up the lean length of his thighs while you nestled between them. “You left my window open last night,” you whispered at him as your fingers began to unlace the front of his bottoms.

A low, restrained sound came from Aemond at the combination of your touch and words. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he replied with cool indifference, supporting himself partially up with his elbows so he could watch you.

A knowing smile spread on your pretty lips as you answered, “you're a bad liar, uncle.” Kissing the flat plane of his abdomen, you tugged the front of his pants down until he was fully freed; hard, solid, and already blazing with heat. You moved those same kisses lower–placing them all around the base of his need until your nose tickled with his scent. His length twitched, the velvety smoothness of him bumping your face.

Above you, he hissed an inward breath, head tilting to the side. “Go on then, this cock isn't going to suck itself now is it?” He crooned, doing his best to appear in control even though his heart thumped wildly with anticipation and the clawing ache to be inside of you–any part of you–had him going mad.

If the slick between your thighs wasn't already unbearable you'd have retorted his taunt. But, you wanted this nearly as much as him. Lifting one of your hands you gripped around his length, pumping slowly, as you rolled your tongue beneath his tip; tasting him, teasing him, coating that part of him with saliva so you could more easily take him into your mouth.

Aemond could have lost it there–would have lost it if he hadn't already fucked his hand to release prior to visiting you. “Did I tell you you could use your hands?” His eye glittered like dragonglass.

Without having to be told again you released your grip and instead held onto the tops of his thighs with both hands, the wholeness of your expression feline. You licked up each side of his cock, circling your tongue around his head, again and again, coating him to your satisfaction. And then, just when you saw Aemond's hips twitch and flex beneath you, you took him into the fullness of your mouth and consumed him.

He groaned, head tipping back. Countless times had he tried to recreate the pleasure you gave him first; no woman ever made him feel the same way and he hated them for it.

You bobbed, and sucked, and savored the hot solid length of him in your mouth. You dragged and worked your tongue against him, too, lost in the heady sensations of him. The quiet sounds he made coaxed you further and soon you became uncaring of the slobbery mess you were leaving on him. Relaxing your throat, you swallowed as much of his cock as you could. When you gagged at the intrusion you pulled your head up, only to do it again. And again. You moaned around him; wanton.

It was too much for Aemond. Somehow he grew even hotter, even harder, and soon one of his hands pushed your head down while his hips bucked up into your mouth. He panted. Peak was so close. Looking down at you, then, he saw how dazed and desperate you were as he fucked your mouth. The knot of pleasure at the base of his spine exploded and he groaned, guttural, as his balls tightened and cock released down your throat.

You about peaked with him. Breathing through your nose you did your best to take all of him, the hot pulses of his length making you clench around nothing.

“Swallow. All of it,” Aemond said down at you, slowly easing the pressure of his hand on your head.

Panting, you did. You showed him your empty mouth with pride. “Dragonseed is never to be wasted, uncle.”

If Aemond had anything intelligible to say it didn’t leave his mouth properly. Both his hands gripped around your upper arms and he yanked you up, maneuvering you atop the bed once more. Reaching to the open belt around his waist he unsheathed his dagger with a whisper of leather and steel. It glinted orange in the chamber’s lowlight. “My sweet, lecherous niece…,” he said darkly, sweetly, pinning you down to the bed as he loomed above you. “I know how to make you a true Targaryen, bastard,” he hissed the last word into the shell of your ear and reveled in the way he saw your throat tighten in defiance.

You tensed beneath him and he laughed.

“My favorite bastard,” he crooned, trailing his dagger up the front of your body. “I will make you my wife.”

Goosebumps pebbled your skin as he teased you, taunted you, thrilled you with the edge of his blade. He never drew blood. It only grazed your shift. “I already am a Targaryen,” you proclaimed, voice strong despite its softness.

“I’m going to ruin you tonight and you will let me. Mother will have us wed by the turn of the new moon.” He tilted his dagger just slight, just enough, and the delicate material of your shift stood no chance against it. He sliced it open to reveal the fullness of your lovely body; your shape, your form, your clean floral scent… all of it made his mind feral. “Marry me, niece.”

A hundred–no, a thousand–things ran through your mind all at once. You saw and felt him already fully hard once again, and the hot press of his cock against your flushed skin had you losing sanity. “I will,” you breathed, nodding. “I will marry you.”

Aemond tossed his dagger away to instead pull your smallclothes down your legs. “My darling betrothed,” he growled, shouldering off his tunic and undershirt as you lay completely bare beneath him. He didn’t even bother kicking his pants off the rest of the way before he moved between your spread thighs. “Let us promise our union now before any Gods that are watching.”

It was wrong. You knew it. And yet… Your heartbeat pounded in your ears and between your thighs. Madness. Surely this was madness. “We can’t,” you protested weakly.

He laughed another dark sound. “Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. We don’t follow the same rules as everyone else.” One of his hands moved over your breasts, sliding and squeezing over them with reverent affection. His other lowered between your legs and the tips of his fingers brushed over your budded pearl. He nearly snarled at the wetness he met there. He circled that bud. Slid over it. He worked your bundle of nerves, watching you all the while.

“A-Aemond!” You gasped, stuttering. Your nipples pebbled firmer as tension built in your belly, tightening in a way that only you were able to make happen. You needn’t any more convincing to give him your maidenhead. So wrong. But, with Aemond? So, so right. Your thighs spilled open wider for him; inviting him.

The rasp of his thighs pressed against the smooth undersides of your own and slowly, carefully, he lined himself up with your dripping entrance and began to press forward.

Your body yielded and the fullness of him was a sensation unlike anything you’d experienced before. His heat seared into you as he sunk, cautiously, through your opening and past your body’s unmarred barrier. It pinched and you winced, blushed face staring up at him with doe eyes.

Full.

You were so full.

You whimpered a little sound as Aemond’s jaw clenched and a groan rumbled deep in his chest. “You’re doing so well,” he mumbled, the intensity of his eye making you dizzy.

Finally, he was seated all the way inside you. With a heaving chest he held the position for a long moment, knowing you needed the time to adjust just as much as he did. He pulled back and eased back in, testing you. Testing himself. Fuck. He wasn’t going to last long. You were absolutely fucking perfect around him. You breathed his name again, gripping onto any part of his body that you could.

Aemond’s movements became a little more sure with each moment. It didn’t take much longer until he was taking you fully. The softness of your breasts rocked with the motion of his thrusts, your face loosening as pleasure began to take over any pain there might have been. His greedy eye raked down the front of your body so he could watch where you were joined. Each time he pulled out his cock glistened with your slick, and each plunge sent you gasping at the pressure. Never had he seen anything that made his cock, and gut, and chest ache with such need. “You look so pretty with my cock inside you,” he said lowly, barely able to make words.

“Feels good, Aem,” you simpered in reply.

His mouth crashed to yours in a heavy kiss, licking into your mouth so your tongues slid against one another. The soft sound of skin slapping on skin began to grow louder as both of you worked into and against each other’s thrusts. “I’m going to mark that pretty little neck so that everyone knows your mine,” he rasped against your skin as he kissed over your chin, your jaw, until he reached your neck. He nipped there, biting harshly, kissing over each bite mark to soothe any lingering sting. He did it over and over, sucking the sensitive flesh into his mouth until he knew he’d leave a mark behind.

You trembled beneath him, squirming with pleasure, as he fucked into you at an angle and pace that had you soaring. The balance of pain and pleasure was more than anything you’d felt before and you were wholly at its mercy. You scratched his skin as you squeezed your fingers against his lean muscle, marking him as he marked you. “‘S too much,” you whined, breathless.

He only continued. Panting, he said, “I want to hear you scream my name when you come. Understood?”

You nodded, desperate. “Yes, yes yes yes..!”

His pace grew sloppy, frenzied, as his own high threatened to push him over the edge any second. “Give it to me,” he moaned, pleaded. “Come with me.” One of his hands squeezed over your breast again, pinching and tugging the nipple, while the fingers of the other worked your clit.

“Aemond!” You gasped thinly, covering your mouth just in time to muffle the scream that no doubt released with the intensity of your peak. Aemond’s mouth replaced your hand as climax took him, too, cock twitching as spurt after spurt of his seed filled the deepest parts of your body. You both rode it out together, senses buzzing and fuzzy, while the wonderful post-climax bliss sensations intoxicated you more than any wine.

He carefully slid out from your body and nearly grew fucking hard again as he saw the evidence of your maidenhood upon your clean bedsheets.

“You will be the loveliest bride,” he said, relishing the sight of you glowing from pleasure.

Pulling the top quilts back, you beckoned him in, asking, “stay awhile longer?”

He did.

You laid together, limp and blissful, and for the first time in over three years Aemond found himself fully sated.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond imagine #request

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unbearableblog · 11 months ago

Text

My Christmas gift for you.

Messages (Carmen Berzatto x reader)

Summary Carmy’s actions towards the reader might eventually lead to consequences.

Word count ~2,8k

Warnings 18+, No use of Y/N (there is rarely a name but it’s just for aesthetics, you are welcome to insert your own name), action set in S2 so possible spoilers, cursing, angst, relationship problems, possible mentions of smut

A/N God this took a lot from me! Legit flew to Copenhagen haha. I am very grateful to each and every one of you who read, liked, commented or reposted and supported this! I would never think that this would happen. I hope you’re not going to crucify me over the plot. Thank you so much for waiting!

Merry Christmas everyone!

Chapter 1 (the one with departure, Denmark, and desserts)

Things were a little different at the Beef lately.

“Richie, shut the fuck up!”

“You first, child!”

Well, maybe not so different. But they certainly were different with you. Amongst the neverending screaming, cursing, and fighting, you somehow survived getting shot at, losing the power, dealing with the IRS, and everything else that constantly went wrong with this cursed place. The amount of experience you had in this short amount of time has topped anything you've done before. You couldn't catch your breath. But that's what you do for the ones you love, right?

It's been some time since you started helping Carmen with the Beef - serving the customers on a particularly busy day, calming down Carmen, sometimes giving Richie a pep talk when he needed to keep his shit together. But mostly you just chatted with Sydney and sat in the kitchen, doing your college assignments while watching Carmen work. You could never get tired of it - he looked so professional and smart. It was his element. Well, when everything was going well.

The entire time, you were there, talking to Carmen as he prepped for the day, giving him a smile and getting one back, just watching him go on about his day and move so swiftly like a well-oiled machine. Seeing him in an apron drove you wild. You'd have to stop yourself from going up to him and touching his god-given curls or rubbing his back through his white T-shirt (but more often you failed to do so). Most of the days you patiently waited to go home and show him everything that was on your mind all day.

One time he caught you staring, mind far away from the Beef. His voice brought you back.

“Are you thinking about my fingers again?” He said while putting his arms at his hips, almost offended.

You bit your lip and looked at him with a guilty smile.

His hand went up to brush through his curls.

“You’re not gonna get any work done if you keep thinking about that. And with the way you look at me, can say the same thing about myself.”

You whine and playfully pout, not wanting to keep studying.

“Come on, princess,” he comes closer to you and whispers in your ear so that his whole voice goes through your body and his lips brush your ear “And when we get home you can tell me all about it while you sit on my ‘pretty’ cock”

Sometimes he would explain what he was doing or why things weren't going the way they were supposed to, sometimes you would share something you found fascinating in your assignment. He would always listen, even if he didn't fully understand, but you knew he was trying to. It made you feel so special - you got the whole attention of this hot 3 Michelin star chef, covered in tattoos and buff, but he looked at you with such care and softness. His muscular arms touched and wrapped around you with strong tenderness and appreciation. Sometimes you saw the same attention to the details in the food he was making - he really cared.

Everything changed after the Beef closed down.

Carmen was a little taken aback when you told him you were going to Copenhagen with Marcus. You were at the restaurant, like any other day, figuring out a thousand things that were wrong before the opening, when you heard Denmark being mentioned amongst the guys.

“Someone's going to Denmark?” you asked, turning around on your chair.

“Marcus is,” Carmen brushed off, and continued having his conversation with him.

“Wait, to Copenhagen? Why?” you felt ignored.

“Uhh, to learn everything about desserts,” Marcus answered. Carmen didn't even look in your direction.

“When? Why didn't you tell me?” you sounded excited because you were, but your heart felt like it was placed into an iron cage. Carmen knew how much that city meant to you, and to not even mention that your friend was going there felt neglectful. But maybe you were overreacting - he was probably busy, he doesn't have to tell you everything, and it surely wasn't for long anyway.

Berzatto shrugged his shoulders. “Why? It's just for some time.”

“I was actually thinking about going there too. I haven't seen my sister in a while. Maybe we could fly together? I know everything there,” you were ready to help Marcus as a bonus. You really appreciated him as a friend, and returning the favor for all those delicious pastries he made at your request would be terrific. You could also use a fucking break from Chiberia.

“For real? That would be awesome!” Marcus exclaimed with his arms, his smile releasing your heart from its prison.

“Uhh… yeah-yeah, sure, I guess,” Carmen squinted his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “I- uhhh, have to go out for a minute. Umm,” he swallowed “-meet that rep for me, yeah?”

An entire work shift of flying has gone by the time you started seeing the bronze-roofed houses sprinkled like decorations on a Red Velvet cake. You made Marcus promise you not to judge the country by its airport, as it usually was surprisingly dirty. Nevertheless, there were hints of what life there was like - a burst of energy, culture, and flavour. You walked what seemed like forever through the endless white halls with blue sections, wondering how many times Carmen had been here and whether you ever crossed paths. You kind of wished he was there. Your excitement rubbed off on your friend - Marcus was beaming with happiness, anticipating your time there. He knew it was going to be life-changing.

The moment you went outside felt like you could breathe again. The weight of The Beef, Carmen, stress, problems problems problems dropped off, was left behind, and never got on the plane. Your chest wasn't encircled by snakes that only pushed until you suffocated. Your mind was clear.

You helped Marcus settle in his awesome boat, and after reading the owner's note to "keep the water in Coco's bowl", searched for the cat for like 20 minutes. Unfortunately, your efforts were fruitless.

Marcus only let you go back alone because you assured him of your safety (you gave him a speech about how it wasn't like Chicago) and experience. Still, he made you text him when you got to your sister's. The two of you were always trying to make your relationship work, but the distance didn't make it easy. That did not mean that you were going to give up - you were used to making a lot of effort for the people you love. She was ecstatic and grateful to see her little sister. The rest of the evening was spent eating, sharing your lives, and talking about your mysterious boyfriend.

“I don’t know, he’s just so… distant. He always leaves somewhere, does god knows what when he knows we don’t have much time! Sometimes it feels like I care about the restaurant more than him. Which is so weird because he was so into it before! He planned the whole thing! And I am so fucking stressed from it all! I never even wanted to work in a restaurant but I was there for him!” you expressed your pain very loudly.

“Have you thought of… breaking up with him?”

You exhale and almost completely give up mentally.

“I don’t know… it feels like we don’t have much of a relationship at all anymore. We don’t go out, all the time is spent on the opening. I swear sometimes I’m there just for our friends and his sister, I can’t just leave them without help while he’s wandering somewhere”.

You couldn’t sleep because being in bed without Carmy by your side felt plain wrong. You were also jetlagged which meant that the peaceful world of Morpheus was avoiding you like a plague. The same thing happened to Marcus, so you both were just texting about what you were doing.

“idk, i gave up and went to get some tea” you typed, a warm mug in your hand as you cozied up on the couch with a blanket.

“yeah, same shit here. bout time to get ready anyway”

Your whole house was asleep, and probably would be so for a while. It was too dark to go out for your liking. Boredom kind of crept in.

“what is it exactly u're gonna do there?”

“uhhh i wish i knew. make some things from the pics i showed u i guess”

“can i watch?” Was it too much of a request? Who even knows if you'll be allowed there?

“yeah i think so. i'd love to not have to do this alone”

You smile, finish your tea, and get up to find some clothes.

You finally reached the place and were met by a tall man in an apron. He introduced himself as Luca, and you heard a very sultry voice softened by an accent. You wondered where he was from.

“I'm Chef Marcus. That's Liv. Is it cool if she just hangs around and watches me?”

“Hi,” you smile at him.

“Hello. You could also join in. What kind of a chef are you?”

“Oh I'm not, I'm -”

“Well, with the amount of time Liv spends in our kitchen listening to every word of the CDC, I'd say she might as well be a chef by now,” Marcus only half-jokes. You give him a look anyway.

Luca prepared everything and soon he and Marcus were working. You were sitting on the other side of the table, able to see everything. Only now you were starting to notice how strong he was, you have to be, you thought, if you stay on your feet all day. His arms were also covered in tattoos that didn't seem to make sense, like Carmy's.

“So who are you?” Luca's question doesn't sound rude, just curious.

“I'm his boss' girlfriend,” you nod as you speak.

“Wow,” he seems to be thinking something, but maybe it's just him being focused on putting the peanuts on dessert, “What are you doing here?”

“Uhh, visiting my sister? It was time and I thought Marcus here could use someone to show him around. As for here, I was really jetlagged and bored.”

Luca was amazing. The way he coached Marcus even when he made mistakes was consistently calm, stern, and leading. Not once did any of you feel berated or hear his voice go louder, all you knew was to just try again. His entire presence excreted stability and equilibrium.

After an extensive lesson, it was Marcus' turn to try. All of you leaned closer to the dessert in hopes of seeing more. You held your breath as you watched Marcus carefully place a tiny piece in the clockwise direction of the dessert when in the blurred background of your vision you felt something change. Instinctively, you looked up from the dish, and your eyes met the gaze of your friend's teacher. There he was, almost lying on the table, looking at you. As if he wasn't busy right now. As if the dessert didn't matter. Hypnotized. “Got it!” Marcus smiled and stood straight up. “Great job, chef,” Luca switched back to Marcus.

Suddenly a firework of spice embraced you in its scent, making your head go round from the all-encompassing desire to taste it.

“Oh my god, are those cinnamon buns?” you had to put your hands on the counter to keep yourself up. “Yeah,” Luca stood straight. “You like them?” “They smell amazing!” you could swear you saw a quick prideful smile brush Luca's lips.

“They are her favourite. And she's very specific about'em too,” Marcus threw you under the bus.

Luca seems interested. “In what way?”

“I'm not, okay? I just believe that cinnamon buns should have a lot of sugar and cinnamon, or else they're just buns. There was this place near the park, and the pastry they sold was like 90% dough. I didn't like that at all” you defend yourself, and Marcus scoffs, having heard you rant about it many times at The Beef.

“Abomination,” Luca shakes his head.

“Exactly! I love it when there is so much sugar that it's oozing out, that's how it'd supposed to be.”

Your lighthearted banter somehow led to Luca opening up and talking about his life and experience. He also shared a couple of stories about determination, his acceptance of not being the best, and some of his failures. Soon all of you were joking around and laughing at your pasts. You felt your heart warm up to him and thought that leaving the house was a good idea.

Marcus stepped outside to check on his mom. He called her sitter as often as he could, and every time you hoped that everything would be alright. Luca was silently doing his work, kneading some dough. It was a demanding process, but so meditative, and you couldn't help but float away watching his big hands grab and squeeze the smooth dough, throwing it back onto the table occasionally, his long fingers dug into it, leaving an impression. “So where is he now?” you ask. “Who?” “The chef who was better than you. Where is he now?” you wondered if Carmen knew him or told you about him. “Well, you tell me. Apparently, opening up a new restaurant,” the chef said, as he threw a careless nod in your direction. Huh? Your heart drops. What? You let out a nervous scoff. “You're saying it was… Carmen??” Your question was met with a simple nod as he kept working. “Carmen Berzatto, the chef that was better than you at everything?” you almost spell out. Luca just takes his eyes off the dough and watches your reaction. He is also confused. “God, he really is the best?” the question sounds more like an exhale. “People keep saying it, but I guess I didn't realize” you sit down, defeated, and stare off. Your mind keeps pacing - what happened to Carmen? How did he go from being the best to being a yelling mess of chaos? Why is someone who looked up to him so calm and collected but still successful? Why can't he be like that? “You sound surprised. What, he doesn't feel like it?” He asks while kneading the dough, this time slower and a little softer. You look at him, then shake your head away and look down. You want to tell him everything about the way Carmen treats you, and how different that is from what your beginning used to be, how he doesn't appreciate you even though you spent so much time in and on The Beef, and how unfair that is, and have his deep voice tell you the answer, but you can't. That would be weird. Luca notices your hesitation. “You know, when we worked together, he would often be… difficult,” there is a pause after he says it because he is reading your face, trying to understand if he's walking on thin ice. He isn't, so he continues. “Partly why I didn't become better than him was because he wouldn't let me.” “Yeah, he shared something like that.” His brows went a little higher, and his grip on the dough hardened and stayed there. “My point is, being with a person like that can't be easy. Man, we only worked together and I already wanted to smother him, can't imagine being in a bloody relationship,” his smile makes you laugh and for a second you forget every bad thing in the world.

Later that day you wanted to call Carmen. “Carm, you free?” You wished to tell him everything - how much you loved the city, how nice his friend was, the fun you were having, and how good this was for you. Kinda wanted to beat his ass for being so mean to Luca too. “not rn, Liv, busy”

Of course.

“Olivia! Come here!” your sister screamed to get your attention. You noticed she was standing at the door, talking to somebody, so you got up and approached her. “What's up?” you asked. She closed the door and turned to you, holding something in her hands. “It's a gift from your boyfriend,” she said in a teasing tone, and you could swear that the last time you saw her that giddy was in high school. “What? How do you know?” A drop of hope celebrated its birth in your chest. “The delivery guy said it's from a chef,” the last word she playfully stretched out, so it came out a little funny, like Tina says it. You couldn't believe it. There it was, a white box carefully tied with a red ribbon. Finally Carmen realised how distracted he was and decided to apologize. Obviously, you were gone, so he missed you. Your heart filled with warmth and you smiled to yourself - you knew things would get better. You take the hefty precious gift from your sister's hands, sit on the couch, and open it with anticipation. Inside, 9 breathtaking gourmet cinnamon rolls with caramelized sugar barely fitting, leaking out of the mouthwatering, well-kneaded dough. And a note.

"You deserve all the best in the world - Luca"

I hope you enjoyed it! Part 2 might come quicker if you comment how you liked it

Snippet from the next chapters

🏷️ Tagged everyone in the comments! If you want to be excluded, just let me know♥️ @carma-fanficaddict @eternallyvenus @sia2raw @helloheyhihowdyheya @soursopsista @m1dnightsnackz @custarrds

Dividers by @saradika

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benevolentbones · 4 months ago

Note

I have an idea for an angst/fluff. Bare with me because this is my first request. Spencer notices reader has small reactions to yelling, slamming doors, stomping, etc. Maybe it’s from arguing parents as a child or they got a bit of trauma on a case and had been hiding it from the team (maybe both. Like arguing parents and then a traumatic experience brought it all back up). She hid her anxieties from the team because she knows she’s safe with them and is slightly embarrassed by the reactions. Spencer only noticed because he pays such close attention to her (he’s got a crush!) and starts doing things to help reader. Like changing the subject when an argument is coming on, distracting them after someone slams a door, etc. I’m not a writer so i have no idea how to end this. Thx 💓

silent support | spencer reid x reader

warnings: brief mentions of bad childhood. spencer fluff! gender neutral reader

word count: 1.5k

a/n: thank you for the request! i hope you enjoy<3 reblogs n comments n requests always appreciated

spencer reid wasn't the kind of man to overlook details. his job demanded meticulous observation, and he'd long since developed a knack for noticing things others missed. this skill, however, extended beyond crime scenes and into his everyday interactions, particularly where you were concerned.

you had joined the bau team almost a year ago, and from the very beginning, spencer had found himself drawn to you. he admired your dedication, your intellect, and your ability to connect with victims and suspects alike— and of course he thought you were the most beautiful person he ever laid eyes on. but recently, he began noticing something else about you—small, subtle reactions to loud noises and arguments.

it started one evening in the bullpen. hotch and morgan were in a heated debate about a case direction, voices rising steadily. you sat at your desk, seemingly focused on your work, but spencer saw the way your shoulders tensed at each raised voice. when morgan slammed a file down in frustration, your hand jerked slightly, knocking over your coffee cup.

spencer's eyes narrowed as he took in your quick, shaky breath and the way you forced a smile when jj handed you a napkin. the pieces of a puzzle began to form in his mind. he had read your file—he probably shouldn’t have but—he knew about your difficult childhood, the endless nights spent listening to your parents argue, the fear that came with every slammed door. and he suspected there was more, something you hadn't shared with anyone on the team.

his suspicions were confirmed over the next few weeks. during a particularly rough case in phoenix, a suspect's sudden outburst caused you to flinch noticeably. you recovered quickly, laughing it off, an embarrassed blush covering your features, but spencer didn't miss the way your hands trembled slightly as you continued with your questioning.

he wanted to say something, to let you know he understood and was there for you, but he also knew how embarrassed that might make you feel. so instead, he began to find small ways to ease your anxieties.

when arguments started brewing in the office, he would subtly steer the conversation in a different direction, diffusing the tension before it could escalate. if someone slammed a door, he would immediately engage you in conversation, pulling your focus away from the noise. these actions were small, almost imperceptible to the rest of the team, but he hoped they made a difference to you.

one particularly tough case in chicago brought everything to a head. you had just finished interviewing a suspect who had a penchant for yelling, and spencer saw the strain in your eyes as you walked back to your desk. garcia was arguing with an it technician about a software glitch, her voice raised in frustration. when she slammed her laptop shut, you visibly jumped, the color draining from your face.

before you could retreat into yourself, spencer was there, standing beside you with a gentle smile. "hey," he said softly, "did you know that the world's largest snowflake on record was 15 inches wide?"

you blinked at him, momentarily distracted from the chaos around you. "really?" you asked, your voice slightly shaky.

he nodded, his smile widening. "yeah, it was found in fort keogh, montana, in 1887. pretty fascinating, right?"

you managed a small smile in return, the tension in your shoulders easing. "that is pretty interesting, spencer….thanks."

he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "just thought you might like to know."

over the next few days, spencer continued his quiet campaign to help you. he found ways to be near you whenever the atmosphere in the office grew tense, offering bits of trivia or starting conversations to distract you. you noticed his efforts, of course, and though you were slightly embarrassed by your reactions, you were also deeply grateful.

one evening, after the team had wrapped up a particularly grueling case, you found yourself alone with spencer in the conference room. the rest of the team had gone home, but you were both still reading over files, trying to wrap up loose ends.

"spencer?” you said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence, "can i ask you something?"

he looked up from his file, his expression attentive as he studied your form. "of course."

you hesitated, choosing your words carefully. "i've noticed... you've been going out of your way to help me lately. distracting me when things get tense. why?"

spencer's cheeks reddened slightly, and he pushed his hair back nervously. "i... i noticed that loud noises and arguments seem to bother you. i know you had a tough childhood, and i figured maybe it was bringing up some old anxieties. i just wanted to help..."

your heart swelled with gratitude, and you felt a lump form in your throat. "thank you, spencer. it means a lot to me. i... i haven't really talked about it, but you're right. —there was something that happened on a case a while back that... well, it just made everything worse." you chewed on your lip, meeting his gaze.

spencer reached out, his hand covering yours. "you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but just know that i'm here for you. i promise.”

you squeezed his hand, feeling a sense of comfort and safety wash over you. "thank you, spencer. it helps more than you know."

in that moment, surrounded by files and the remnants of a long day's work, you realized just how much spencer reid meant to you. he wasn't just a colleague or a friend—he was someone who truly cared, who saw your vulnerabilities and accepted them without judgment.

the days following that conversation were transformative for you. knowing that spencer understood your struggles and cared enough to help made a world of difference. you found yourself growing less anxious about your reactions. spencer's quiet support gave you the strength to face your fears head-on.

one evening, after a particularly stressful case, the team decided to unwind at a local bar. laughter and conversation filled the air, but you couldn't shake the lingering tension from the day. as you sat nursing your drink, you watched the interactions around you. hotch and rossi were deep in conversation, garcia and jj were dancing to the jukebox, and morgan was charming a group of women nearby.

spencer slid into the seat next to you, a gentle smile on his face. "you okay?" he asked softly.

you nodded, though you knew he could see the truth in your eyes. "just a lot on my mind."

he studied you for a moment before speaking. "want to take a walk?"

grateful for the escape, you agreed. the two of you slipped out of the bar and into the cool night air. the streets were quiet, the only sound the distant hum of traffic.

eventually, you found yourselves at a small park. you sat on a bench, the silence between you comfortable and reassuring. spencer looked at you, his expression earnest.

"you know," he began, "i've been doing a lot of thinking about what you told me. about your past and what you’ve experienced. and i just want you to know that it's okay to feel the way you do. there's no shame in it."

you looked down at your hands, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and relief. "it's just... i thought i had it all under control, you know? but then things happen, and it all comes flooding back. i feel weak."

spencer's hand found yours, his touch gentle and reassuring. "you're not weak. you're incredibly strong. you've been through so much, and you're still here.”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you blinked them away, not wanting to cry. "you always know the right thing to say."

he smiled, a soft, genuine expression that made your heart ache. "i'm just glad i can be here for you. you mean a lot to me, you know."

your breath hitched slightly at his words, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. "you mean a lot to me too. more than you know."

spencer's eyes softened, and he reached out to take your hand. "i'm here for you. always."

spencer’s eyes flickered over your features, the harsh street lights casting a soft glow over you, taking in how beautiful he found you.

you took a deep breath. "there's something else i need to tell you. something i've been feeling for a while now."

he looked at you, his features softened, the warm light catching pieces of his dark hair causing them to almost look golden. "what is it?"

"i... i think i'm falling for you.” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "you've been so caring and kind to me...more than anyone in my life."

a look of pure, unfiltered joy spread across spencer's face, and he squeezed your hand. "from the moment you joined the team, there's been something about you that drew me in. and the more i got to know you- the more i fell for you..”

relief and happiness flooded through you, and you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a soft, tender kiss. it was a moment of pure connection, a promise of support and love.

as you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, a smile playing on your lips. "thank you. for everything."

he cupped your face in his hands, his eyes shining with affection. "no, thank you. for trusting me, for letting me in. i wouldn't have it any other way."

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea @thedancingnerdmermaid @khxna @cynbx

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds requests #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid request

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justawritterwithideas · 2 years ago

Text

Who's your daddy? | s.r

summary: After a long day's work, the BAU returns to the head office where they find a stroller with a small baby sleeping and a child very determined to surprise his father… But who's his father?

warnings: too much fluff, spencer!dad, my best attempt at Spencer dad because it's 24/7 on my mind. I REALLY ENJOYED WRITING IT, AAAAAAAAAAA. This story is not spencer x reader, i wanted to try something different so i created a character. I hope you guys like it.

words: 4,241.

a/n: I decided to surprise myself and try the family/family found challenge from one of my favorite writers in the whole universe, @imagining-in-the-margins. I used, I think, one of my favorite concepts which is "secret family/spouse/child" for this little au.

i want to remind you that English is not my first language, so if there are mistakes I hope you will forgive me :( I hope you like it, plus I really enjoyed being able to try something new and outside of what I usually focus my writing on. THANK YOU, TQM.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

Catching criminals is a good way to kill time.

The BAU team knew this perfectly well, that's why they were dedicated to it. Every day was a new experience trying to find and capture the worst of the worst of humanity. Even though sometimes they just wished those freaks would take a day off.

The last case had sent them all the way to Silicon Valley, successfully catching the unsub and making it safely back to the FBI offices.

What they didn't expect was to find their technical analyst and friend, Penelope, gazing in amazement at the inside of a stroller.

"What is that, Penny?" asked Emily, walking up to the blonde figure who was totally engrossed by what she was seeing in that baby carriage. The group approached silently, after seeing the woman's signal for them to come as quietly as possible, and saw inside it.

A small baby was sleeping comfortably inside. They estimated that he was about eight months old; they could see a few strands of thin brown hair that were tousled falling down his forehead, his little nose was puckered and his little hand clenched the tail of a fluffy lion. His outfit was as cute as possible: his body was adorned by a white long-sleeved T-shirt with an iguana on it and a leaf-green overalls, but much of his body was covered by a gray blanket.

"Isn't that the cutest thing you've ever seen?" Penn looked up, feeling her heart stir. "I went out to greet you and found this beautiful creature. He was sleeping and alone, so I decided to keep him company until someone came to claim to be the father of this beautiful peach." J.J couldn't fall for the charms of that baby, after becoming a mother her Achilles heel was children.

"Was he alone, Penelope, are you sure there was no one with him?" Luke couldn't help but wonder how it was possible that they had left a baby, alone, in the middle of a hallway in a federal building. "Positive, I've been there for about ten minutes and I haven't seen anyone approach him."

The team brought their full attention to the mysterious stroller, looking for some sign of what would be the perpetrators. Hanging there was a gray-colored bag with a small giraffe keychain; inside it was the necessities for any kind of emergency that might happen. Diapers, change of clothes, some food, powdered milk, a bottle, everything necessary for a baby.

"We should check the cameras to see who brought him here" Matt suggested, feeling his nose being invaded by the smell of baby cologne, a very mild and almost hypnotic one.

"It's a blind spot, Matt." Tara replied, noticing how the little guy rolled over and let out an adorable yawn, falling back asleep. "He's too cute." Penelope's eyes seemed to shoot hearts.

"We should move him out of the hallway, it's drafty and he might catch a cold." J.J brought her hands up to the carriage and began to push it, being followed by the rest of the people back to their cubicles.

Despite the movement, the little boy, who was now nicknamed "peach" thanks to Garcia, remained in that deep sleep.

"I wish I had that deep sleep" Emily smiled, looking at peach's features.

He looked like someone.

Who was it?

"I want to go back to those times where my only problem was sleeping and eating" Rossi commented, causing his colleagues to laugh.

"I don't understand how a baby could have gotten up there without anyone seeing him. It's a building full of federal agents, there's no way no one saw anything." Matt nodded at Luke's words. "Let's jump to conclusions, how did a sleeping baby get here? There's no way he pushed his own car to get here." J.J peeled his gaze from the car, feeling a light bulb in his head turn on.

"In the bag there were juice boxes, it is unlikely that they are for him. It is recommended that at twelve months they can only have juice, so they may be from the parent or he has a brother or sister accompanying him" Rossi smiled, nodding at the words the young woman was saying. It was quite logical coming from the mother bear.

"If that were so, where is this responsabl-"

"Excuse me," A high pitched voice interrupted Luke's sentence "I believe you have my brother."

The group turned to see where the voice was coming from. A small figure was standing behind them, he looked quite calm and was running his hands down his brown pants.

The small glasses were drooping down the bridge of his nose, his hair was disheveled just like his little brother's and his hands were arranging the sleeves of his blue hoodie.

"I-is he your brother?" Emily stood at the height of the youngest, who was nodding before he approached the baby carriage and took to watching the little one, inwardly thankful that he remained in his deep sleep.

"I just went to the bathroom and when I came back he was gone." The little boy drew an elongated smile, taking in the faces of everyone around the stroller. " You're federal agents, so I didn't panic too much when I didn't see him."

The boy settled on the floor, taking off the backpack he was carrying and pulled out of it a book, which had in golden letters the title of "The Little Prince." Apparently, it was in French.

"How do you know we're federal agents?" Luke seemed just as surprised as the others, who didn't understand how the youngest could remain calm after taking his brother away, and besides, he knew they were federal agents.

"It says so on your badge, sir" The small hand pointed in the direction of the badge hanging from his pants, causing everyone to turn their gaze to it. "Besides, my mom told me."

"And where is your mom?" Rossi was the one who took the word, smiling at the confidence the young man possessed.

"That's a good question, sir. I'd like to know where she is, too." He shrugged, trying to remember what the woman had told him before leaving him in the hallway of the BAU office. "I know she told me, but at the moment I can't remember. It was too noisy when she said it."

The rest were silent. The little boy was handling a rather formal vocabulary, one that is very strange for his age, plus he looked quite interested in reading his book than paying attention to the rest of the stares.

"Excuse me, sweetheart… But how old are you?" Penelope smiled friendly towards the young man, who took his eyes off his interesting book.

"Five and a half, but many say from the way I talk I'm older."

Luke opened his mouth, surprised at the young age he possessed and that, moreover, he was in charge of his brother.

"What about your brother, how old is he?"

"He's eight months and two weeks old, he's still not close enough to say he's nine months old, so I'd rather be exact."

Emily was increasingly sure that he looked like an exact copy of someone she knows, but she couldn't associate it.

"Even so," Continued the young boy "there's something you guys haven't asked me" the book took a step back, closing it and setting it down on his lap.

"What's that, kiddo?" Tara asked.

"My name or my brother's" The group looked at each other. He was right, they had been so preoccupied with finding out about the person in charge of them or their age that they had overlooked asking his name.

"You're right, that was rude of us, what's your name?" Matt fixed his gaze on the young figure, who was giving them a smile where one of his front teeth was missing.

"I'm Alex, well… Actually my name is Alexander, but my mom and dad call me Alex, except when they're mad." A small giggle escaped Jennifer's mouth. "And my brother's name is Oliver, but we call him Oli."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Alex." Matt's hand extended in the direction of the little boy, who shook it with a smile. "What about you guys, what are your names?"

The group smiled, introducing themselves to each other so that the young boy could remember each name without a problem. After this, the little boy began to repeat the names, making sure he could remember each one well and be able to get each name right.

"Okay, Alex. Now that we know each other, I want to ask you a question" J.J addressed the little one, who gave him his full attention.

"Shoot, Miss J.J" His answer caused everyone to laugh, letting the little guy's charisma win them over.

"What are you doing here? I don't think you decided to come here at nine o'clock at night with your brother and mother just to see the place."

"Well, we actually came to see my dad." Admitted the little boy, adjusting his glasses.

"Your dad? And where is he?" Penelope searched with her gaze, as if she were on her computer looking up the information on her servers.

"It's a surprise! Dad doesn't know we're here, it's the first time we've come to see him at work. I wanted to surprise him so I asked Mom if she could bring me here, and since I've been good, she agreed." Proudly, Alex reached into his backpack for a neatly folded piece of paper. He opened it and held it out to J.J., who was surprised at the grades on that slip of paper.

"Wow, I see only A's here" The printout passed from hand to hand, noting that every course had been passed with the highest grade.

"Yep, even sports! Mr. Adams, my teacher, said I'd been the fastest in the class. Even though I prefer literature, I got along better with letters than balls."

Emily was sure she was a clear copy of the youngest on her team, Spencer Reid.

Wait, where was Spencer?

"Where is Spencer?" Emily turned her gaze to her buddies, who were handing the paper back to Alex so he could put it in his backpack.

"He said he was going to do some stuff on the fourth floor, then he'd be on his way here." Tara replied, turning her attention back to the little boy. "By the way, what's your dad's name? Maybe we can help you look for him, we're the best profiling group in the whole FBI, so we can find him fast."

"His name is Dad!"

"And what's your mom's name?"

"Mom?"

The group went blank. It was clear that a five-year-old wouldn't know what his father or mother's name was. Despite being quite intelligent, to him his parents were called "Mom and Dad."

But it seemed they had managed to summon something, for after mentioning the progenitor of both, little Oliver interrupted their conversation with a whimper announcing that his bedtime was over, plus his beloved mother figure was missing.

"Oh no…"

Alex moved in the direction of the backpack, opening it to look for his brother's pacifier.

The longer they lingered, the louder and louder the little boy's crying got. J.J tried to cuddle him, trying to soothe him while Emily rocked the stroller back and forth and Tara hummed a lullaby.

Luke and Matt were trying to distract him, waving their hands in front of him and making funny faces. Rossi was trying to help Penelope and little Alex with the search for the pacifier, who would occasionally bring his hands to his ears to stop the sound of his brother for a couple of seconds.

But silence came in surprise, causing everyone to stop their actions. Their gazes turned to the baby, who was giving a giggly laugh and wiggling his feet, babbling something. It looked like Oliver was feeling something.

"What's going on here?" a female voice interrupted them, again directing their gaze back.

A tall woman, who was wearing a simple beige sweater and black pants plus black converses, was approaching the stroller. The group of people moved away from her, who was leaving a plastic bag with a box in it on one of the desks and holding the baby in her hands.

She made sure to settle him on her shoulder, stroking his back slowly. Alex smiled, moving closer to the young woman and hugged her side, letting his glasses lift a little from being so tight against her.

"Mommy! Where were you, I thought you'd left me alone forever! Well… Not alone, I was with Oli but you know what I mean." The woman let out a giggle, bringing her free hand to the younger one's disheveled hair and stroked it, feeling the younger one squeeze tighter and tighter.

"Alex, love, I told you I was going to the store to buy Daddy's donuts, don't you remember?" She pushed little Oliver away so she could kiss his forehead and settle him back into the stroller. Her hands, now free, went to Oli's side and took a small pacifier, bringing it up to the baby's mouth, which he immediately accepted to begin sucking on.

"Oh… That's what you told me."

Thewhole group let out a laugh, noticing the little one's rosy cheeks. The woman, now recognized as "mommy", turned to look at the group who had taken it upon themselves to care for her two children.

"Gee, sorry for ignoring you guys." The girl giggled, giving them the same look Alex had given them a few minutes ago, fixing on each one. "Thanks for watching them, I know Alex is responsible, but I'm glad to know there were older ones around."

"You don't have to, Alex was a sweetheart. We were nosy and took his little brother, it was our mistake." Emily admitted.

"That's right, Mommy! I went to the bathroom and they had taken Oli" The young woman simply laughed, kissing the younger boy's forehead before speaking again.

"It's okay, kiddo. They did the right thing, they did the reasonable thing."

"We tried to find out who his parents were, but he told us their names were mom and dad" Alex nodded, looking at his progenitor who seemed quite amused by the whole situation.

Alex took her mother's hand, motioning her to come closer to tell her something. The female complied, listening intently to what her young son was saying before she let out a giggle and nodded, returning to her position.

"Well, actually called me mommy. But before I was called mommy I had another name, pumpkin. My name is Amanda, but at home they call me mommy or baba." Alex opened his eyes, surprised that his mother had another name besides "mommy."

"It's a pleasure, Amanda. I see all your names start with a vowel." Rossi was the first to speak, reaching out to shake Amanda's hand. "Your husband's too?"

"No, he's the exception." The femme admitted, beginning to wave to the round of people standing there.

For a couple of minutes, the group began a pleasant conversation where they talked about the time she was missing. They had jumped to the wildest conclusions, but they knew that at some point they would meet the mother of those two angels.

"Oh, I bought a lot of donuts now that I remember, do you like them? They're my husband's favorite." The woman walked over to the bag, from which she pulled out the box and smiled.

The group appreciated the gesture, beginning to receive and distribute the pastry among those present.

A chocolate-covered doughnut with sprinkles on top was received by each person.

Wait… Her husband's favorite?

Emily looked at the two little ones, then her gaze went to the young woman, then to the doughnut and her eyes went back to the little ones.

Emily could feel her head smoking from the way she worked.

No, it wasn't possible.

Spencer would have told her if it was.

"Excuse me, Amanda…" The mentioned one looked up, fixing her gaze on Emily as little Alex took small bites of his donut and shared it with his mother. "What-what did you say your husband's name was?"

"Oh! I didn't say it, actually." She admitted, taking a bite of the donut she was sharing with Alex. "His name is Spe-"

The answer interrupted by the shout Alex gave, turning away from his mother to run down the hallway for the new presence.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

Spencer peered down the elevator, noticing how the small little man ran into his arms and pounced on him.

"Alex! What are you doing here, little one?" He carried the little guy, leaving a resounding kiss on his cheek and looked him in the face. His cheeks were covered with chocolate and his glasses were drooping gracefully down his nose. "Are you alone, who brought you?"

"Mom did!" The youngest was smiling happily, playing with his progenitor's hair. "Dad, did you know Mom has another name besides Mom, her name is Amanda!"

"Yes, buddy. I knew mommy's name was Amanda, but I affectionately call her Mandi."

"I thought you called her Mommy, not Mandi."

Spencer carried his little boy over to the cubicles, finding his work group/friends staring at him with stupefaction on their faces. He was sure their faces were perfect for being part of a surreal painting.

"Spence, surprise." Amanda approached the man, leaving a kiss on his lips and received her husband's kiss back.

"What are you two doing here?" Spencer looked at his family with some surprise.

"Three, daddy. Oli's here too" The little hand pointed toward the stroller, where the movement of the youngest of the Reid family could be heard.

Spencer walked over to the baby carriage, leaving the eldest of the Reid brothers on the floor and peeked out so he could see his little boy, his newest devotion.

"Hi Oli, are you awake yet? Daddy's here." Oliver watched his father with his big hazel eyes, moving his hands so he could reach one of his father's curls. "Hey, buddy. How big are you." The man took the little guy in his hands, drawing him into his body so he could carry him, smiling at the feel of his son's movement stopping as he began to pet him.

The whole group was silent, unable to believe that the youngest of their team had such a well-kept secret.

A wife and two children! How was it possible that even Emily hadn't known about this?

"Spencer…w-what is this? When did you intend to tell us? About your wife, about your children, about-about this!" Emily waved her hands around trying to take in the situation, feeling the pieces of the puzzle coming together on their own.

"I thought Hotch was going to tell you before he left." Spencer looked at the group of people, stopping his gaze on his wife who lifts her shoulders, trying to tell him "don't even look at me, I didn't say anything."

"Clearly he didn't say it" Jennifer looked at her best friend, trying to look as relaxed as possible, but it was impossible, I guess no one was trying to "act cool" at that moment.

"Well, I guess it's time to introduce you to my family." Amanda smiled, leaning against one of the desks as she watched Alex approach her. "This is Amanda, Amanda Reid, my wife" The young woman waved her hand, crossing her arms again with a smile on her mouth. She loved that he said my wife. "This is Alexander Reid and Oliver Reid, Alex and Oli of affection." Little Alex smiled, again waving to everyone with his hand and took what was left of the donut his mother offered him.

"How long have you been married?" Next to speak was Rossi, who felt Hotch had betrayed him by keeping that secret so long.

"Well, married… we've been married for five years. Dating we've been dating for seven…" Amanda turned to look at her husband.

"Seven years, five months and thirteen days." Spencer nodded, looking down at the baby who had just fallen asleep in his arms.

"So…" Matt looked over at Alexander, who looked amused eating the sprinkles on top of the donut.

"Yeah, Alex was a surprise. We knew we wanted to be parents, but we wanted to live together first, and well… The first night of living together caused Alex's arrival." Amanda laughed with her cheeks flushed, noticing how Spencer's cheeks were also filled with that crimson red. "Oli arrived after a couple of tries. We didn't want Alex to be alone and have to read all the books to himself."

"Now he reads Oli to sleep, like the good big brother he is" Spencer smiled, placing little Oliver in the most comfortable place to sleep.

After that confession, the pair settled in at the desk where the woman was sitting.

"I have so many questions I can't process, I really don't understand. So…how come we didn't see this in your apartment when you went to jail? We'd be completely blind if we hadn't noticed." Penelope had gotten to a good point, causing the friends to nod and the pair looked at each other before they could respond.

"It's because you guys went to Spence's old apartment." Amanda replied. "When we had Alex, we outgrew the apartment. We tried to look at an apartment in the same building, but they were all the same, so we pooled our paychecks and managed to rent a slightly larger apartment down the street from there. After Oliver came along we had to move to a bigger place." Spencer nodded, wiping the corner of his son's lip, which was full of chocolate. "But when Spence needs to focus, he goes to his old apartment to work. Diana was living there for a season and then she came to our house." The young woman pushed her hair back, feeling her husband's warm hand wrap around her hip.

The group was attentive to what they were saying, nodding at every word and concentrating on the story they had for them. Like little children, they formed around the young couple to follow their narrative.

"When Mexico and jail happened, it was really an ordeal. Hotch called us to get into the program with him and Jack, we had to go into hiding because we were Spencer's immediate family. Before Diana could hide she was kidnapped and, well, you know the rest of the story." Amanda's hand went to her son's hair, playing with the unruly locks of the scalp. They were exactly the same as his father's.

"But we would have known, I would have figured it out! H-how did you…?" Penelope was utterly convinced she would have found that information.

"It wasn't in the system." Spencer admitted. "I begged Hotch not to release it, it's manually, on paper. But online it's not, it was more likely to endanger my family." The young couple looked at each other and gave each other a smile. Sighing, Spencer continued. "Something like Foyet and Hotch would have happened, it was too dangerous. I wasn't willing to lose them and place them in danger."

Finally, the group of people began to understand, nodding at what he was saying and relaxing after that news.

"Spence had intended to tell them, but after Cat Adams, Scratch, Mexico, jail, Diana… I don't know when the time was right, to be honest with you." A collective chuckle filled the room echoing at that moment.

"Wow Spencer, you sure had this secret well hidden." Luke smiled, patting the younger man on the back, who was grinning broadly after breaking free of that secret that had him gnawing inside.

"Well, it's never too late to throw a welcome home party for the new family." Rossi smiled, moving closer to Amanda so he could hug her.

Mandi smiled receiving greetings from everyone, feeling like she was home.

"Good, then I'll start buying presents from now on. For both Oliver and Alex." Penelope smiled, receiving a wide smile from Alexander, who was the most excited to receive gifts. "I've missed so many birthdays and Christmases already."

"So…" Alex stole glances at everyone, who looked quite intrigued by his words. "Can I tell you aunties and uncles?"

That was the straw that broke the excitement level in the entire group, causing everyone to nod and smile broadly, feeling their chest heaving with joy.

"Did you see, Alex? Now you have lots of aunts and uncles to share, plus cousins." Spencer fell into step with his son, who was hugging him by the neck with a smile.

"That's right daddy, lots and lots!" The little boy turned to look at them all before stretching his arms out to hang around Luke's neck, who was greeting him with a smile that went so far as to make his cheeks ache.

The entire group stayed talking for a couple more minutes before deciding to head home to relax after a full day full of excitement.

Before she could get on the elevator, Emily smiled in the direction of the group of people.

"I think we know who his daddy is." Tara's whisper caused Emily to laugh and step onto the elevator, letting the doors close and signal the end of the work day.

The day had closed on a high note, not only for the capture of a criminal, but also for the discovery of a new family.

And Spencer couldn't be happier to finally reunite their families.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

kissesssss, bai. 💕

#spencer reid #spencerreid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencerreid!dad #mentioningmargins #spencer reid fanfiction #fluff #criminal minds imagine #omg this is so cute spencer!dad is absoluty cute #spencer reid fanfic

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moronkombat · 1 year ago

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You were his little precious, the way he'd gift his little girl with beautiful treasures and spoil her rotten. Fortunately, she didn't turn out to be a spoiled little brat, she turned out to be a very fragile, humble, and innocent daughter of his.

But something bugged Shang Tsung. It distracted him the way your shirt would cling to your curves and how it would emphasize the size of your breasts. He found himself mindlessly daydreaming about pushing you face first into the matress and doing unexplainable things to you. Wait what? He couldn't, not when you were his daughter. His little precious he treasured the most. his bejeweled, kind, and sweetly innocent daughter whom he homeschooled since she was but a little child to protect her from the heartbreak she could experience from the other boys.

No, he was the only male in hee life. And only parent too.

But why? Why, at night, did he imagine himself fucking you so hard you'd forget your own name? Why, on his bed, he'd stroke himself to the sounds of your whimpers and soft moans of sexual frustration from the other room? And why were you here? Looking at him with pink cheeks and messy hair.

The way your pyjamas clung to your body, highlighting the beauty of your hips, your ass, your breasts, every part of your body. He stares at your hands for a moment too, wondering how the soft skin would feel around his cock, how slippery it would feel stained with his cum.

"Father, I- I ask for your assistance." You say, as you enter his room.

"Yes yes ah- what is it my sweet?" Shang Tsung says, getting up from his laying position, acting as if he hadn't been touching himself to the sounds that came from your little mouth.

"I.. I can't seem to let it out, father." You whisper, looking away from him in shame.

"Let what out, my darling?" But he very well knew what you were talking about.

You pulled your shorts down slowly, showing him the wetness that pooled between your thighs.

It was all blurry, next thing you knew the door to his room was locked tight and you were laying on your back, stripped of all your clothing. Pure, naked, wet and ready for your father, Shang Tsung.

This felt so wrong on so many different levels, he raised you, he was your father, both of you were blood related.

But those thoughts seemed to vanish from your and Shang Tsung's heads as you felt two fingers enter your throbbing pussy.

"Ah- father!" You moan as you covered your mouth with your hand.

"Don't worry my sweet. Father is simply... helping you out. That's what fathers and daughters do, right?" He said the final sentence at the same time he pushed another finger in, earning a sound of a whimper from you.

Everything seemed to happen so clearly, that the memory was burnt into your mind.

Shang Tsung curled his fingers up inside you, moving them at a pace, getting faster.

"Oh- father, yes! You're hitting just- shit kerp going- just the right spot!" You moaned, earning a smirk from the sorcerer.

"Are you about to come, my sweet?"

"Yes father! Please please make me cum!"

"I'm never one to deny a request." Shang Tsung said before he sped up his fingers, echoing sounds of wet squelching filling the room. "You're my good little girl, aren't you?" He whispers, his free hand moving a lock of hair from your face.

His words seemed to echo inside your head as you felt yourself tighten around him and finally let go of the frustration built up inside you. Shang Tsung still kept his speed up, making you a bit overstimulated.

All you can remember is that you could feel darkness envelop your eyes and drift you to dream world as you heard your father speak beside you.

"You're the peak of perfection, my sweet."

As you finally fall asleep you felt him kiss your forehead and cover you with a blanket.

-sincerely, 💬

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT I WROTE IT WHILE I WAS ON VACATION💀

oh my goobness....this was AMAZING TO READDDDD!!! Thank you so much for writing this for meeeeeee. i drank it alll up. daddy shang aint ever gonna leave his daughter too needy BARK BARK

#tw.incest #tw:incest

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nyctophiliq · 8 months ago

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✮ ┆ MERCY TEACHING YOU HOW TO HUMP A PILLOW. angela ‘mercy’ ziegler

CONTENT WARNING. 18+ only, minors dni. NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT; female-bodied reader, angela is a meanie, masturbation, dry humping, pillow humping, pillow grinding, | ~0.9k words

A/N. this was requested to be put back on tumblr by a few people, idk what happened to it and how it got lost but it’s back now so i hope you guys enjoy it just like the first time!

there was a longer mission in plan for a smaller group of heroes, one that you weren't included in, but your girlfriend was, angela wasn't pleased about being torn away from your side for such a time, but being the way she is, she couldn't leave without tying a couple of loose ends up. the most important is you, because who will take care of such a sweet girl if she is not here to help you?

she guides you onto the bed, helping you out of your sweatpants and pushing your shirt up, getting a pleasant view of your chest, she reaches out for it, caressing your nipples over the fabric of your bra, leaning in to press kisses under your collar bone, when you don't protest, rather shiver at her touches and twitch into her hand she knows- she's got you wrapped around her finger now.

"try, it's not so different from when you sit on my face or cock, liebling." her words are like honey, coating your brain with the thick syrup of lust as she helps you onto the pillow, positioning you in front of herself to get the full experience. she holds your hand for a while, telling you to start, imagine it's her face.

so you try, trusting against the white pillow clumsily, squeezing her hand when your panties slip between your pussy lips and rub up against your sensitive bundle of nerves, curling and tucking your thin sack-covered feet under the pillow to keep it in place but you couldn't get it right, it didn't seem right, you complained about it, stopping multiple times even with her tugging you by the hand to continue.

"can't you do it without help or whining?" she groans, jerking your body back and forth by your wrist before throwing them away, pushing and pulling you on the pillow before settling behind you, her hips knocking against yours, multiple times as you take a look over your shoulder, angela's eyebrows knotting as she pushes herself onto her knees, thighs parting when she drags the pillow between her legs. her glare is sending lightning bolts your way, muttering something under her nose which you interpreted as her demand for you to turn around and start fucking the pillow with her.

you rock your hips, testing out the motion with her, and letting out a long, slow breath when angela's hand sat on your hip while her other adjusts the pillow, the position of her hand seems second nature as she holds the crinkled, battered form of it along the length of your slit and her fingers tips pressing it down over the shaft of your clit.

her touch feels electrifying, the feeling sends waves of pleasure over your body, making it so much harder to focus on your trusts rather than hers, the ability to think leaves you entirely as your tense shoulder and thigh muscles loosen, letting you settle fully onto the pillow, it feels even better like this, and even though you are barely sensitive, the pressure of the pillow through the thin cotton panties is enough to have your breathing catching a little in your throat.

feeling the doctor behind you continuing to press and grind her hips against yours, you bury your face into the mattress and press the pillow further against yourself. your legs are tense and rigid, your hips are struggling, and your breath is muffled behind the blankets. tongue lolls out of your mouth as you lick the sheets and try to picture her mouth against yours, easily dominating it as you hardly put up a fight to allow her to do so.

“you get it now, huh? to fuck yourself like this when i'm away." suddenly everything feels magnified- you feel as though you're so wet you can feel it spreading against your thighs, slicking up the pillow beneath you, and you're starting to ache with that familiar sensation as it begins to crest.

you close your legs tighter around the pillow and bare your teeth. the shared bed's frame is squeaking with each thrust you make, you spare a moment to hope that it doesn't thump against the thin wall, cause someone to come and interrupt your little learning lesson because you can feel it in your stomach now, that uncomfortable tight knot forming with heat sticking to your underwear.

"’m gonna c-cum-" you gasp, nearly too out of breath to go an. you're so close, so close, and you try and mash the pillow up against yourself and grind in tine tight motions, scrabbling for an image to finish yourself. it's one that you get with your hand, gripping and clawing her scalp as you tremble and jerk against her mouth, her fingers piercing you as she groans insults again your cunt, repeating the words she says before your cum leaks out of your hole, all over her face and fingers.

you trash against the pillow, fingers clawing into it, and finally collapsing onto your stomach. you lie there, breathing hard, the thin layer of sweat coating your back, cooling.

"sweet little thing, now you can take care of yourself."

#📗 — written by moss !#overwatch x reader #overwatch x reader smut #overwatch smut #overwatch mercy x reader #overwatch mercy x reader smut #mercy x reader #mercy x reader smut #angela mercy ziegler x reader smut #mercy smut

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imagine-lcorp · 11 months ago

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Perfect Sense (Part I)

Request

Soulmate AU, please? (With A/B/O you're comfortable?) Fem!Reader (or Gender-Neutral) hasn't experienced much in her life, other than the experiments CADMUS had done to her shapeshifting powers. All she knew of the world outside the facility was what she'd learnt in the stories a sympathetic scientist would sometimes tell her when she was still a kid, to calm her down during testing. After 2 decades the scientist had enough and helped her escape, landing her in the arms of another Luthor.

A/N: Aaaand here another request you guys, writing a few fics in parts due to how long they get to be at the end. Thank you to the lovely person that sent this one, I'm sorry it's been ages, i still hope you can enjoy it. Love you guys

Lena Luthor x Fem!R/Shapeshifter//Word Count: 2,413

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

"Subject C-308, ready for testing." A voice sounded through the speakers of the room and immediately the lights went on, blinding your eyes.

You couldn't use your hands to cover your face. They were tied to your sides with restrains to the medical bed you were laying on. It was the same with your feet, where the restraints were even tighter. Silhouettes started to moved and hoover above you, all covered in masks, blue suits and white gloves, looking down at you.

"Phase one of Project Lykaon, subject C-308, ready for intervention." A deep voice, from one of the silhouettes said. "All things set. Ready to start protocol."

"Initiate procedure." The same voice of the speakers sounded and the figures above you started to move.

You would have wished to tell them about the lights, how bright they were and how they hurt your eyes. About the ties around your wrists and feet, how uncomfortable they were, but the gag in your mouth didn't allow it and before you could even think of making a sound, it all went dark.

That was one of the first memories you ever had in your life, and it looked almost the same for the rest of it. It was all uncomfortable restrains and chains, white walls and white lights, the constant smell of antiseptic and cleaning products, knives, syringes, and endless surgical procedures. With no contact outside four walls of that place that felt more like a cage.

A cage fit to held the animal you were sure you were becoming.

After each intervention, after each transformation, with this savage instinct inside of you always in the edge of taking control. You were more beast than human, they used to say and you almost believed them.

But Dr. Jeremiah wouldn't have any of it. He was a different memory, a kinder, softer reminder that you were indeed human. The only person to ever treat you with compassion.

Before your interventions, on those terrible moments when you felt the anger and fear building up inside of you, threatening to tear to shreds anyone that dared come near you, he would come to talk you down. Dr. Jeremiah seemed to understand, how you would have done anything to put a stop to it. The numbness, the tiredness, the overwhelming sensations and pain that came each time after you were taken out of your room. But he would talk to you, speaking softly, assuring you you were going to be just fine, because you were stronger than you thought.

He would come after the operations to check up on you, sitting beside your bed with a worried expression, telling you stories about what awaited for you in the outside world, a world that was bigger than an operations room and your own. A world full of wonders like grass, sunsets, the sunshine, flowers, snow, and love. Whatever those things were.

"What's love?" You have asked once. He had paused then and thought for a long moment.

"Love is when two souls find and want each other." He had explained.

"What's a soul?" You asked then.

"It's something inside of you. The strongest part of you, (Y/N)" He smiled, only he called you with a name. "Your soul is everything you feel, and when you feel something so strong for someone else that means you have found your soulmate."

"A soulmate." You have whispered and frowned, still unsure of that idea.

"You will know it when you see them. It will feel as if you have known them all your life and everything you have been through will make sense." At that moment you had been too young to understand what he meant, but you would do it in due time.

Years passed, you became older but he kept telling you those stories. The ones you liked more where about the people. People that didn't hurt others just because they had the power to do it. He would even speak highly of one scientist he knew, so different from the ones you had met so far. A woman he had met time ago, someone so kind and loving that you liked to imagine her sometimes too and dream about meeting her in the outside world, to finally know something else apart from the nightmare that was being trapped there.

The dream came true a decade later, when you had grown up so much that it took them more and more people to control you. Dr. Jeremiah had been right, you were stronger and even stronger than they thought you were. That was one of the few joys you had then, besides the stories Dr. Jeremiah retold for you. Your powers grew too, the size of your body as you transformed, the length of your claws and teeth, the range of your sense of smell, the vision of your eyes. More powerful than the child you had been once.

Still, it wasn't enough for them.

"I think you enjoy your time with her a little too much, doctor." The voice of a woman caught your attention as you tried to fight the numbness of the strong sedatives.

You had been injected after being taken to the testing room, after finding out you could take three men with a single swing of one of your clawed hands, to keep you under control.

"I'm just trying to be comforting. Seems to help with her neural responses." Dr. Jeremiah was as indifferent as he could be.

"Well, you won't have to worry about that for much longer." The satisfaction in that woman's voice was noticeable and also the way you seemed to respond to her, with a terrible feeling of submission that was difficult to shake compared to any other people. You never felt like that in the presence of Dr. Jeremiah. "Project Lykaon has been terminated. She will be taken to another facility, and you can perform her last surgical procedure if you are that attached to her."

"Are you sure you want to dispose the only test subject that has survived all the interventions, Lilian?" His word came with a hint of outrage and concern. "With her powers she could still-"

"I spent too many resources already on this project, doctor. Besides, she's still incapable of following directives from her superiors, even when she seems compliant at first. And we can't do much with only one successful specimen, can we?" The woman cut him off and there was a moment of silence before she spoke again. "There's no need for more interventions. She will be taken tomorrow. After her autopsy, we will see which parts of her can be salvaged."

After the conversation was over, you tried to open your eyes looking for Dr. Jeremiah but he wasn't there anymore. You felt a certain heaviness in your chest, but you couldn't dwell on it as the sedatives finally won over you.

You woke up after a deep slumber restrained to a metal bed, only wearing a simple set of pants and shirt. As your senses returned you noticed you were being transported through the dark narrow hallways of the facility you had known all your life, but there was something different this time. You still felt a fog clouding your mind and the heaviness in your chest came back. It lessened when you heard Dr. Jeremiah's voice, who was talking with the armed men that transported your bed, giving them instructions on where to take you.

You moved your head, trying to catch a glimpse of the place you were going and noticed those weren't the usual turns and hallways you had grown accustomed to. When Dr. Jeremiah noticed you were awake, he put a hand on your shoulder to calm you down.

After a moment the movement stopped, you were left looking at the ceiling while Dr. Jeremiah talked with the men. He convinced them of leaving you and him alone for a moment, before they had to put you in the van. The men left without much complain, and the doctor seized the moment to act.

"(Y/N), listen to me." He rushed to try to loosen up your restraints. "I'm not letting them take you. You understand?"

The only thing you could do was nod as he kept moving, loosing the restraints on your naked feet and hands.

"You must remain on the bed. Don't move until I tell you to." You nodded once again. You saw him then take a vial and a syringe from his pocket and prepare it. "This will counteract the sedative in your system, you will be more alert in a few minutes, but remember, don't move."

He had injected you just in time before the armed men came back. They pulled your bed around and finally pulled you into the back of an armored van. They sat around you, two men at each side, guns in hand, along with Dr. Jeremiah on your left, who kept an eye on you at all times. As the vehicle started to move you also started to feel less and less numb with each passing minute. You were aware of each bump of the road, hear the sounds of the city in the distance, and your sight adjusted to what was around you as you squinted your eyes to see, trying not to get noticed. Just when you felt like your body was completely awake, you started to wonder what Dr. Jeremiah would do. Not much time had passed but the minutes felt like hours as you tried to be still.

Then you saw movement. Dr. Jeremiah was pulling something out of his pocket, and you opened your eyes to see him better. He looked at you, nodding slowly and with a fierce expression. Almost like telepathy you understood, you had to get ready, and in a second everything turned into chaos.

Dr. Jeremiah, in a faster move than you thought him capable of, pulled a teaser and attacked the man next to him. Almost immediately the rest of the men responded raising their guns at him. However, they didn't expect you to act as quickly as them or even you breaking your restraints so easily.

You grabbed one of the men with your right hand by his bulletproof vest and tossed him against the other one. Your strength, without the need of transforming, was enough to leave them on the floor. You didn't get the change to feel pleased with your work as a deafening bang went off on the left side of your head. You screamed as you raised your left hand towards the last man remaining, ignoring the ache in your head you managed to slash his side and right arm with your nails, now turned into claws. He had tried to eliminate you, but Dr. Jeremiah had managed to push him before he could do it.

The van stopped abruptly and took a sharp turn that made you fall from the metal bed. With your restraints already loose, it was easy to free yourself from them but as you tried to recover from the fall you felt a dizziness making it hard for you to stand up. A hand on your arm pulled you up. Dr. Jeremiah was on your side hurrying you up before the back doors opened. You couldn't hear his exact words but it didn't matter, with the adrenaline running once the back doors opened and you looked at two other agents pointing at you with your guns, you went feral.

Bullets flew the moment the agents saw the enormous black figure lunching at them, but your white sharp teeth showing as you growled and your black nail claws heading straight for their heads were enough to put a final stop to it. You jumped out of the van, leaving two more bodies behind you. A couple of bullets managed to hit you in the chest and arms but you would be recovering quickly, interventions had been done to make sure it didn't take too long.

Dr. Jeremiah jumped out of the van a moment later, gripping his shoulder. You smelled his blood and approached him with a hint of worry in your transformed face.

"It's alright. I'm okay." He smiled softly at you and looked around the streets. They were empty and there seemed to be no people around. "You have to go now. More will be on their way."

You protested with a whimper.

"I'll be okay, don't worry about me." Dr. Jeremiah moved his hand to one of his pockets an pulled a small piece of black fabric. "Run and don't stop. Not until you find her."

You came close to it, sniffing the fabric he held for you. Many scents were mixed on it, from Dr. Jeremiah, from the woman he had talked before, and another you couldn't identify. It wasn't as different from the woman, but it was distinctive enough you believed you could find it without confusing the two. You guessed you had to search for another woman and, feeling like it was a sort of treasure hunt, you let yourself imagine you would find that scientist he had talked about to you years ago.

But doubt filled your head as you looked at him, wondering what would happen to him once you left. There was also that pressure in your chest once again, as you thought what awaited in the outside world now that you had the chance to leave all this behind. All, including him.

"I have to stay." Dr. Jeremiah said catching his breath. He raised his good arm at you, caressing the black fur of your head with his hand as a way of last goodbye. "You go now, (Y/N), go and don't look back."

You pressed your head against his chest, listening to the beating of his heart. The last comforting sound you heard before screeching tires approached in the distance. They were coming for you. You had to leave.

You ran, darting into the shadows of the city, focusing on the memory of the scent Dr. Jeremiah had given you. Moments later you heard shots behind you, but you had been too long gone for them to even catch the sigh of you. You hoped those hadn't been directed to the doctor instead.

You used all your strength and speed to wander between warehouses and factory buildings to reach the urban lights on the other side.

#lena luthor #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor x reader #lena x reader #lena luthor x you #lena luthor imagines #request #female reader #fem reader #perfect sense #part i #lena x you

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mechdyke-after-hours · 3 months ago

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MINIBOT MAID CAFE

This is... messy. and unorganised. and not to mention I've never written for Swerve before. I just randomly had this thought last night, and I already had a headcanon that Swerve has a thing for lingerie so...

take this garbage /lh

Word count: 1500

Swerve's bar made significantly less shanix during off hours. Not to mention, he was bored during the day. He spent a lot of his off time exploring various forms of human media, as well as infodimping about them to any mech who'd sit and listen for more than 5 minutes. Once he started, he could go on for hours if he didn't keep himself in check.

The idea struck him when he was watching some animated human show. They called it a "maid cafe". The humans would dress in frilly dresses and serve customers various snacks and drinks. He wasn't sure if it was some strange human fetish, or just a custom he didn't understand, but he sure was intrigued. Something about the way the fabric on their little organic bodies moved just captivated him. Not to mention, it was an opportunity to make some extra money AND potentially get other mechs to actually like him more? Seemed like a win win situation for him.

Swerve was lucky he knew how to cook. Decently, at least. He poured his spark into making a few trays of energon treats. Jellies, candies, even a full multi-layer cake topped with iron filings. The ingredients cost him a bit more than he hoped, but if his calculations were correct he'd be making back at least double what he spent. Not to mention, he got to snack on some of the offcuts. And snack on them he did, until his protoform felt like it was going to burst through his plating.

With the help of some of the craftier bots on board, and the promise of a couple of free drinks, he had everything set up. Decorations and signs showing prices of items written in neat cursive were placed neatly around the bar. It had a totally different vibe, everything feeling... almost cute. Fliers had been pasted around, and given out to curious looking mechs. The pièce de résistance, a human saying he'd learned recently, was the full recreation of the dress one of the girls had been wearing in the show. The only difference was that was red and white, to match his plating, and it was strapless to fit him better. Frills and lace decorated the delicate, yet sturdy, fabric. It was tailored surprisingly perfectly, and fit him well. There was even a zip up the side to make it easier for him to get on without risk of the seams tearing because of his large arms. He didn't even want to try to get the outfit over his wheels, it'd snap immediately. Wearing such a light material over his frame for the first time was an odd experience. It somehow made him feel more exposed, even though he was technically more covered than usual. It made him feel warm and giddy inside, and he wasn't entirely sure why. Swerve wasn't a confident bot. He would go as far as to say he was incredibly self conscious most of the time. But he looked good.

From the moment he officially opened the bar, he was swamped. He was absolutely not expecting so many mechs to be interested. He supposed the promise of homemade sweets was hard to resist, by even the more gruff and serious of mechs. He was overwhelmed at first, but quickly realised just how patient everyone was being. The atmosphere was totally different to that of a bar, and he found himself enjoying it for the most part. The fabric of the skirt brushing against the plating of his thighs was a bit of a distraction at first, and it took him a good while to get used to it. Bots were chatting, eating and having an all around good time. A lot of them even laughed at his jokes! He was stoked.

After a while Swerve needed to take a break. The fabric had been brushing against his inner thighs and gently tickling the front of his panel. He was getting embarrassingly charged up. His cooling fans had long since turned on, which he luckily could rather easily explain away as his frame heating up from the extra layers. He excused himself to the storage room, and let his valve panel open underneath the frilly dress. He felt his inner fans start to spin even faster as the cool breeze washed over the puffy protomesh of his exposed valve and a shiver ran down his backstrut. No one could tell he was exposed. He could play it off. Not to mention, this was more authentic anyway, right? Humans didn't have metal plating to cover themselves up like Cybertronians did. If he wanted to really pay homage to human culture he had to do everything properly... right?

He took a moment to calm himself, and before he could regret it he went back out to the bustling makeshift cafe. He was shocked at just how many mechs were interested in the non-alcoholic beverages and snacks. He'd have to start offering them full time. Every step he took made him aware of the breezy feeling of his valve being exposed. He had to keep reminding himself that no one could tell. He was quickly getting aroused, and he could feel lubricants starting to make his valve feel squishy beneath his skirt.

He was starting to get worried that he was dripping and making a mess on the floor without realising. He was soaked. Even the slightest brush of fabric against his node was making him grit his denta. His vents were running hot, and he was almost worried he'd set fire to his dress. Things were starting to slow down, much to his relief. He'd made more shanix than he thought, sold out all of the treats he had made, nearly completely run out of drinks and mechs were starting to leave. Only a few stragglers remained. He smiled as politely as he could, keeping up the act. He tried to act like his normal chatty self, but he was getting impatient. As soon as the last mech left, he jumped up and locked the door to the bar. He had to... clean up. Clean up so the bar would be tidy and ready for when he opened it in a few hours. That's all he had to do.

His legs were spread wide, his valve on display under the layers of frills of the dress. He couldn't help but look at himself in a makeshift mirror he had set up (nothing more than a rather shiny piece of sheet metal), admiring how... cute he looked. His valve was puffy and fat, the blue bio-light of his node blinking steadily. He bit the fist of his servo, his fans kicking into overdrive as he reached down, spreading protomesh folds. Pearlescent pink lubricants all but gushed out of him, staining the floor of the storage room beneath him. His spike panel slid open with a click. He whined, before slipping one digit into himself, and then another. His servos were big, he knew that much, and his own digits filled himself nicely. He kept admiring himself as he self serviced, two digits deep in his valve and his other servo wrapped around his chubby spike. Lace and frills framed his array, and he couldn't stop thinking about just how good he looked. He'd never admired himself this much before, and he'd certainly never felt this good about himself before.

Charge was crackling from his array, his engine revving and his fans stuttering. His optics flickered beneath his visor, his intake hanging open slightly. He bit his derma hard, before shoving his digits as far into himself as he could, his thumb rubbing circles against his node. He all but sobbed as he overloaded, ropes of transfluid shooting out of his spike and lubricants squirting out of his valve into a messy puddle on the floor beneath him. He took a moment to calm himself, venting heavily as he laid back. Usually after self servicing, he'd feel guilty and pathetic. Like he'd done something wrong. But this time, he just felt tired. It was a nice change of pace from the usual feeling of self loathing that came with his post-overload clarity. He offlined his optics to rest just for a moment. Just... a quick moment.

He awoke from recharge about an hour later. His frame ached, and he felt incredibly sticky all over. His servos, thighs and the floor beneath him were coated in transfluids. He grimaced, wiping it onto the apron of the dress. Looks like he had a load of laundry to do. Not to mention he still had to clean the entirety of the bar before he could open. He sighed, closing his interface panel and reaching into his subspace for a cloth. As he cleaned himself off, his processor swarmed with images of how cute he'd look in different human clothing items and immediately his cooling fans clicked back on. This was going to be a long night.

#my writing #valveplug #transformers #swerve #mtmte #nsft

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alexisomnias · 2 years ago

Text

— YOUR TEARS. . .

⤷ you cry to them, how do they comfort you?

comfort fic, platonic or romantic, [TW] described panic attacks, crying

featuring DIASOMNIA

MALLEUS DRACONIA

• When your crying, he tends to just sit and hold you. You don't have to speak or explain to him, he'll just hold you until your willing to talk or until you no longer want to be held.

• After you've calmed down, he'll invite you out on a walk! Fresh air always makes people more refreshed and he hopes it'll help you feel better.

• For the most part, I can see him wanting to distract you from your issues. Not in a way of invalidating them, but in more of a way distract you until your out of your depressive state. He would wait years, so don't worry darling. Your nothing close to a bother.

• He's not to educated on others feelings or emotions. But he knows he'll never be able to truly understand how your feeling. If you yourself are unsure of whatever is running through your mind, he knows there's no way he could either. Though, as long as he can be a pillar for you to lean on he's okay, and he'll be there with you until your smiling truthfully again.

Malleus could feel you shake against his much taller frame. His hands rubbed along your arm comfortingly like how he remembered Lilia doing to him. The sound of your sobs echoing around as he holds you close. Ensuring he's hiding you from the prying eyes of the world around you both. A wall to cover you and keep you safe and comforted. He doesn't say anything as you cry, he won't say anything unless you ask for it. His words hold less value then the ones of your own. He listens to you vent out your feelings when you wish to do so. And when you stop, he kisses your gentle, fragile skin.

"You don't have to be okay, you don't have to be okay for anyone. I'm not going to pretend I know what your going through, all I know is that everything feels like its falling apart." he whispers, voice gentle as he tried. "You don't have to explain what's going on in your head. I'm not above your thoughts like I know everything your feeling and I could explain it in a couple of words." he laughs, though the sound is doleful, his eyes gentle and soft. "I'll not leave, unless you want me to, and I'll not stop loving you."

LILIA VANROUGE

• His embrace is very parental. Its filled with love and care, patience and understanding. He holds you like a father holding his child. Not like your fragile and you'll break with a slip of a finger, but instead like a valuable item he never wants to lose.

• He'll listen to you scream, yell, cry, vent, whatever it is you do when your depressed. And he'll listen with patience and cognizance. He'll affirm you positives and he'll ensure you know how cared for you are by those around you. Theres people that care, he'll remind. And he hopes you know he's one of those people.

• He'll never shy away from the issue like it'll be resolved in a few hours, or he'll never run away from it because he see's it as a problem. He doesn't want you to feel like your trapped in a dead end all alone.

• He'll sway to whatever you find most comfortable in these cases. He'll guide you away from self-destruction and into his arms. Somewhere, where you can cry and scream at the world for whatever your going through.

The droplets of your tears stained his shirt, and the messy strands of your hair were held in his hands. He held you lightly, like you were enveloped by a cloud as you apologized. Lilia didn't know what for, or why in the world you'd apologize for emotions. Emotions everyone feels, emotions that differ from person to person. Feelings locked by a key, the key mold breaking the untold, unfamiliar breakdowns you experience. Through many years Lilia's seen grief, mourning, pain, fear, depression. So he had a grasp of the emotions you were feeling but not what was running through your head. Your mind being uncharted territory he'll never uncover.

"I'll leave when you wish to be alone. You are not a burden to me, or to anyone else. because your just as anyone else, someone whos struggling and in need of light. I'm in no position to tell you what your feeling, or how you should feel, or even how you should handle it. Your the only one who can give your feelings names." he whispers. Lilia's voice echoing through your ears as he eases you through your distress. "You deserve the best, and when the world gives you challenges. I'll never stop being there to help you overcome them."

SILVER

• Silver is not the best at comforting others, the best he can do is listen and learn. He'll sit back if you want him to, he'll make you something to eat if you want him to. He'll even leave if you are uncomfortable. Whatever you wish he'll try to sway.

• I can see Silver as the type to calm you to sleep. Hold you, maybe wrap you (and maybe him) in a pillow fortress and listen to calming music until you fall asleep. Then if you want to talk about it in the morning, he'd be willing to listen. He'll not force you into anything.

• He'll get you to try some healthy methods he does to help relieve stress! Like having certain scents around, eating, sleeping, writing down your issues, breathing exercises, etc). Or he'll try some of your methods alongside you. He doesn't want you to feel alone!

• He'll always be there to protect you from the outside. Like a wall to your heart, he stands around it ensuring nothing can break it!

He sits down next to you, not too close, not too far. He listens to you cry, whether you wish to vent or just cry he's open to either. He's not going to tell you how you should handle your issues. He remembers his father listening to his issues whenever he was sad. So he's going to do the same to you. Silver found it always helped having someone willing to go through a process with you. Not saying things like, "it'll get better soon", "You'll feel better", "This'll pass", because it won't. Sadness is an emotion that follows you throughout life, and while the thing that makes you sad may no longer be there, the feeling itself doesn't just "get better" like its some kind of problem.

"We can do whatever you want. I'll be here beside you the entire way until you want time for yourself. No distance or feeling will ever push me away from you." He affirms, his eyes pure like a jewel. Staring into yours as he helps you through your dark place. "So let yourself be, nobody can judge you based on feeling they don't even understand. I'll never judge you or stop loving you just because your being human."

SEBEK ZIGVOLT

• Sebek is a more talkative comforter. His voice is still stern (and unfortunately loud) but he never condemns you for how you feel. He talks you through it, not dictating how your breakdown should go, but by responding to the things you say and helping you through and let everything out healthily.

• He listens for once, he lets you let everything out. Then after he brings you or takes you somewhere. Anything you'd like to do and he'll try to uplift you while also keeping the fact that your sad visible. He won't push the issue away but he won't drag it out.

• Sebek acknowledges how you feel. He won't lie straight to you, or act like a therapist or that its a scheduled meeting for you to talk about your feelings. He'll treat it as it is. Your sad, and that's okay. And he'll be there to assure you that whatever your feeling is rational.

• And if someone else made you cry? Don't get him started, he'd strike them down like they were an ant he never even saw.

Sebek stands by you after your emotions settle and your breathing calms. The attack moving away as he takes its place. Standing there like a guard protecting their royalty. He was abnormally quiet, as if you were a kitten he was taking care of. He would never pity you, your a strong human. Strong emotionally for sure, he admires that about you. His honesty knows no bounds and he'd say nothing but honest views he has on you, good or bad. Either way, he's ready to be there for every step of your life. Through rough, shallow, or peaceful times, he's ready to be the boat that never sinks.

"Your not ungrateful for feeling like this. Everyone feels like this sometimes and its all completely normal." he says,. "I feel like it sometimes, er, too. Bad weeks, days, or months will come and I hope to be here by your side during those trying times!" His voice was assured, and convincing. Like he was 100 percent sure he'd be there for you whenever you call. Like lightning striking down from the sky when thunder calls.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twised wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #diasomnia #diasomnia x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #silver vanrouge #silver x reader #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #comfort fic #suns pencil.

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youre-a-total--poser · 1 month ago

Note

Can you please write one with mama nat and teen reader where Fury sends the reader on a mission with another one of the Avengers even when nat told him not to, and the reader got injured or something and nat helps nurse her back to health cuz she sees her like her own kid <3

Or you can write anything with mama nat, i just love your writing so much aaaaaaaaaaa 🧎🏻‍♀️

Accident Prone (Request)

Warnings: I don't know anymore Age: briefly 10 and 15 Word Count: 955 Requests: Open Summary: Read the request and it will explain everything Requested by: Anonymous Date: 28/09/2024 paring: N/A A/N: Thank you for your request I hope that you like it. Not sure if this is even good enough since it has been so long since I've written anything

Masterlist

---⧗---

You were taken by HYDRA when you were about 10 and let's say you were one of their failed experiments.

You had telekinesis powers well sort of. Honestly, you had no clue how to make it work and when it did happen it would happen at the most inconvenient moments.

Things would be moving about randomly people, mainly you, would be getting whacked by flying objects. It wasn't great definitely a 0/10 wouldn't recommend.

Then one day the Avengers came in and put a stop to everything that was happening and rescued everyone like they do but the only thing that was different about this whole operation is that they found something or someone sitting in a cage who would change their lives forever.

You were sitting there covered in cuts and bruises and they assumed the worst but that wasn't the case at all. You didn't tell them what happened and even to this day you never did cause it's pretty embarrassing not gonna lie but eventually they figured out why.

They ended up taking you back with them and letting you stay probably because they felt bad for this little thing that can't walk in a straight line, trips over nothing and chokes on air.

---⧗---

You were now 15 life is great everything is great.

You were getting help to figure out how to use your powers and after years of training, you could successfully move… a penny.

Sure it wasn't the biggest thing in the world but at least there was one less thing randomly flying at you so you called it a win.

Over the years you had developed a close bond with Natasha. What started with her tending to your every wound gradually turned into a mother/daughter-like relationship.

Every time the Avengers went on missions you were left home alone and you wanted nothing more than to go with them to see what it was like but every time Natasha would say 'No it's too dangerous.', 'You're too young.', 'Do you really think I'm going to let you go when you can't even make toast without nearly burning the place down?'

In your defence it wasn't even your fault that the toaster caught on fire someone turned the dial too high.

You knew that Fury was here assigning Steve on a mission and you just happened to overhear that it would be an easy one so it would be perfect for you.

Your plan was to be as annoying as possible so he would get frustrated and say yes so that's exactly what you did you followed him around repeating the word please and just as expected it didn't take long for him to give in.

Your excitement lasted all of 4 seconds as soon as Natasha heard what was going on.

"Absolutely not," she said crossing her arms.

"Please, Nat." you begged, "nothing is going to happen."

"I'm sorry but I said no Y/N."

"Not fair," you mumbled while crossing your arm in a huff.

Then the best idea, well the best idea at the time popped into your head however now you regret it.

"I'll never ask for anything ever again if you let me go."

While Natasha was thinking you were giving her your best please face it's never failed you before.

She let out a sigh "fine."

Your face lit up and a large smile appeared.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you said while hugging her.

"Don't make me regret it Y/N," she said sternly.

---⧗---

The mission was easy and boring it was just to collect paperwork or something you weren't really listening or paying attending.

It was all going well until it wasn't…

Natasha was anxiously waiting for the Quinjet's arrival once she heard you and Steve were on your way back.

She watched as Steve carried you out of the Quinjet. Natasha was already going out of her mind but when she saw Steve carrying it it sent her over the edge.

"What happened?" she asked hurrying over.

"She tripped over a stone and sprained her ankle." Steve briefly explained

"It was a very large stone actually." you chimed in.

"God sake Y/N, I thought something bad happened to you," Natasha said her voice still sounding quite panicky.

"Something bad did happen I sprained my ankle"

Steve let out a frustrated sigh and Natasha just shook her head.

"Can you put me down now?" you asked Steve who was still carrying you.

"I thought you said you couldn't walk," Steve said gently putting you down.

"I never said I couldn't walk I said I didn't want to walk."

"It doesn't matter let go and put some ice on it," Natasha said putting her arm around your waist and you slowly limped back inside.

---⧗---

"what am I going to do with you Y/N?" Natasha asked as she handed you some painkillers and a glass of water then placed a bag of frozen peas on your ankle.

"Lock me in a room and throw away the key?" You said quietly chuckling then you took the meds that you were given.

"Don't tempt me," She replied sitting down beside you.

"It hurts a lot," You said while wincing.

"The meds will kick in soon and it won't hurt as much."

Natasha picked up the TV remote and put on your favourite movie.

While it was playing you felt yourself getting tired.

"Thank you for taking care of me Nat," you said sleepily.

"You welcome, sweetheart," she said quietly.

A slight smile appeared on Natasha's face as she put her arm around you while you moved closer to her.

You ended up falling asleep in the safety and comfort of her arms.

---⧗---

Taglist

@saraaahsstuff // @marvelnatasha12346 // @amolapasta // @knox145 // @ducktamer415 // @romanoffliviv

Go HERE to be added to the taglist

#natasha romanoff #mama nat #natasha's kid #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #natasha romanoff daughter #natasha romanoff x teen #natasha romanoff x teen reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader

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overnowsfcb · 11 months ago

Text

valentine; pablo gavi

summary: experimenting love for the first time feels kind of weird, in the best way of the word.

warnings: none, just fluff.

word count: 1,8k

it was the first time you felt like you were inside a love story, the first time you empathized with the protagonists who felt butterflies in their stomachs every time they saw their beloved or smiled at the mere thought of them.

throughout your high school, you were that girl who had to witness your friends telling stories about holding hands, kissing and having sex with the right person, and helping them write and decorate letters for their partners on valentine’s day.

the only solution you found to dive into that world was in the books and movies. all you read was romance, hoping for one in real life. a kiss underneath the rain, a jacket around your shoulders when the air got cold, someone to accompany and hear you.

fortunately, your friends never made you feel left out. but you couldn't help but feel that way every time you saw them smile with their significant others. the epitome of that feeling was when you blew out the eighteen candles in your birthday cake, it felt like sealing your fate.

everyone applauding and cheering that you reached the majority of age. the only thing you did when everyone left wasn't opening the amount of presents they had given you.

you sat on the couch with the lights off and put your favorite rom-com on the tv, searching for ice cream on the fridge and a blanket. you knew every word of the movie, every scene, every detail.

you had the same reaction as the first time you saw it. in a slumber party, when you were twelve. and that contrast is what gave you distress and shame, it had been six years and you still haven't had a romance. tears began to fall from your eyes, thinking that that person who would make you feel unique would never come.

it was almost funny how you manifested it in your life after watching it over and over again. after holidays, you applied for the first job that had vacancies to help your mother with your two younger siblings; she was having trouble covering everything with a single income.

your job at a small bookstore hidden in a secluded corner of barcelona didn't pay much, but it was your favorite place. you enjoyed organizing books, recommending them, and having conversations about them with interested customers.

you never would have imagined seeing one of your brother's favorite football players enter that store. the little bell above the door chimed, and you quickly looked up from the book you were finishing, right at the best part.

"buenas," (hi.) he said, approaching the counter. you tucked the book beneath it and stood up from the stool.

"buenas tardes, ¿cómo puedo ayudarte?” (good afternoon, how can I help you?) you smiled formally, just as you did with all customers. you were amazed at how pretty he was; your brother always watched his interviews, and you knew quite a bit about his life. however, you couldn't understand why it felt like a breeze of air had reached your face when he stood up in front of you.

"i was looking for a book for my sister. a birthday gift." you nodded and asked him to specify a bit more about her interests, and what genre she liked.

"ah, she's into mystery novels," he replied, his eyes scanning the shelves as if trying to find the perfect gift.

you led him to the mystery section, explaining the different authors and their styles. as you chatted, you couldn't help but notice how down-to-earth and friendly he was. you were an expert talking to new people, but this felt different, it was the perfect cadence.

he eventually settled on a classic detective novel, expressing gratitude for your assistance. as he paid for the book, he asked, "would it be too much trouble to have it gift-wrapped? it's a surprise for her, you see."

you gladly agreed, and as you carefully wrapped the book, he continued the conversation. he shared anecdotes about his sister's love for mystery stories and how he hoped this gift would bring her joy.

little did you know that after that interaction that brightened the rest of your day, it would turn into something much more significant.

you pondered whether you would see him again. had he felt the same as you? or maybe it was just your desperation, and how notting hill was engraved in your subconscious.

but sometimes, movie scripts weren't entirely wrong, like when you heard the little bell of the store ringing again a week later, this time while you were arranging some new books that had arrived, perched on the ladder.

"hi," he greeted excitedly. you directed your gaze to where the sound came from, and a smile appeared on your face. you were almost overcome with excitement, but you held on tightly to the ladder to not fall.

"good morning," you said, finishing arranging a book and descending from the ladder.

"my sister loved the book! she said it was the best gift ever," he beamed, making you feel great. he extended an invitation for coffee as a token of appreciation.

you didn't even know if it was professional to accept it while you were working, but you weren't hurting anyone. and that was the best decision you could ever make in your life.

every hope that you had murdered with resentment now resurrected with a new shine. what you thought was your destiny was just a moment in time.

it had been a challenge for pablo to make you believe that he truly wanted to be with you. countless times, he felt the need to explain how wonderful and precious you were.

you didn't know how to react to his compliments or sudden kisses. he was so spontaneous and impulsive, and you were so calculated and cold because he was everything you had ever dreamed of. but what if it was just a dream that could crumble at any moment?

yet, he took it upon himself day and night to make you feel like the most cherished woman. and how could you not feel that way with those crystal-clear eyes looking at you as if you were a sunset over the ocean?

he loved your laughter so much that he couldn't help but make jokes or clown around at every opportunity that presented itself.

he showed you a new way to see life, to explore a new spectrum of colors that had been withheld from you for so long, and dispelled certain beliefs that were imposed on your mind.

even your mother and your own friends adored him; they couldn't ask for more than your first love to be with such a dedicated and understanding guy, dispelling any lingering doubts.

he was the person who listened to you talk about your favorite books but also, had no problem listening when you complained about something going wrong.

the smallest and most imperceptible details were what made you fall a little more in love with him every day, confirming that you wanted to be by his side for eternity.

his angelic voice was engraved in the back of your mind, the first “i love you”, the sweet nothings he whispered in your ears the first time you decided to make love, assuring you that he would take care of you at every moment. and, of course, he protected his word, a man who never failed you.

sometimes, just sometimes, when you understood the great person the universe put in your path and remembered that you haven’t lose your mind trying to find a man like him. when you remembered his touch was completely real —something that took quite a while to accept— you flaunted him in front of everyone.

his eskimo kisses every time you felt down had become so essential and pure that they automatically reset your mind.

and you couldn’t forget how he had the gift of turning the simplest things into memories that you would fantasize to tell your grandchildren, sitting side by side, full of gray hair and wrinkles. the beauty of simplicity.

it was truly a movie-like love. a movie that your 16-year-old self would love with all her heart, and now you were living it firsthand, and it was true. it existed, and no one could take it away from you.

“i don't ever wanna let go of you. i want us to stay like this, like sloths, for the rest of our lives.” you giggled, amused by his antics and nose nuzzling affectionately against your neck. he squeezed your waist with his hand and got you trapped with his leg over your body.

“i would love to do that too, baby. but unfortunately, we're only human, and i still can't be late for work.” you moved his leg and replacing the pout of his lips with a sweet kiss. you could spend hours listening to him talk.

he grabbed your cheeks and showered your face with kisses while you laughed. “seriously!”

“i hate that you have to work.”

“you should be grateful, because if i didn't have this job, you would've never meet me.” his eyes sparkled with affection as you headed off, leaving behind the warmth of his presence but carrying the glow of his love within you.

he often wondered if you knew you were his first true love. none of the women who came before you stood up to the way he couldn't help but think and speak of you, of your remarkable essence as a person.

it was as if meeting you had illuminated a part of his soul he didn't know existed—a feeling so profound, it reshaped his understanding of love. your presence felt like the missing piece he'd been searching for, and with every passing day, he found himself falling deeper.

once, he couldn't fathom the allure of romantic movies, convinced they portrayed an unrealistic, overly idealized version of love. how could it possibly measure up to reality? it felt like a sudden twist in the game when he discovered the depth of love in the embrace of a girl who adored those movies. it was through this realization that he understood—love was far more beautiful than any screenwriter could ever capture.

the movies could never capture the immensity of his emotions during those fleeting moments when he danced with you, be it in the disco or under the soft kitchen light because it held the same intimacy. it was in the way your voice still trembled ever so slightly when you praised him and the way your cheeks flushed with color when he returned the compliment.

for both of you, it was a fairytale woven into reality. you, always yearning for it, and him, a skeptic who never believed in such tales.

the enchantment and genuineness were evident in every shared glance and each entwined finger. it was etched in the lines of your palms, you were meant to be timeless.

#pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x reader #gavi x reader #gavi imagine #football imagine #football x reader #football fluff #gavi fluff #pablo gavi fluff

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