#i cried out in pain and joy yes

[we-may-still-have-time]

#i haven't listened to laura veirs in years #because i found her music at a very hard time in my life and it's hard to be reminded of that time #but sitting here tonight this song came back to me complete #and somehow it felt different #''and at night a fractured star fell #and it pierced right through the thick of me #i cried out in pain and joy yes #i'm not dead not numb not withering'' #laura veirs #cast a hook in me

[cyxnidx]

LITTLE ONES !

character: dad!simon 'ghost' riley

genre: fluff + headcanons

a/n: the idea of simon being a father raids my mind

dad!simon, who'd kiss his little ones on the foreheads every night, watching them closely before leaving to sleep with you.

"simon," you call your husbands name. "they're sleep, i promise." simons been sitting at the side of your childs cot for the past 35 minutes, watching as they sleep peacefully. "yeah, but they could-" you stopped him. "oh, shut up and come on."

dad!simon, who hugs his little girl tight when she cries from a fall.

"it hurts!" she'd whine, tears pouring from her eyes as simon lifts her from the rough concrete. a sharp pain hit his heart hearing her cry from what seemed such a little scar, that was so big for her. "i know, darling. it's okay."

dad!simon, who'd recklessly throw his little boy in the air, heart skipping a beat when he hears his squeals of joy and excitement.

dad!simon, who takes his kids with him to the base one day and introduces everyone to them.

"everyone.." he states reluctantly, noticing the amount of attention he gained simply by saying a word. he felt his little ones hands grip onto his pant legs, shaking. "..meet my little one."

dad!simon, who laughs at the idea of his little girl turning into a sassy-rebellious teenager one day.

dad!simon, who smiles proudly at his teenage girls bossiness.

you sigh, sitting on the couch as you and simon hear your little girl in the kitchen, speaking with her boyfriend. it started with a small disagreement, but then he says something she doesn't enjoy. when he hears his little girl correct him in a bossy tone, voice getting slightly louder and British accent getting even more threatening, he grins when all he hears on the other end is a "yes ma'am." and silence.

dad!simon, who'd answer his girls every beck and call.

"dad!" she'd call from her room, rough British accent booming through the house. just like her fathers. her eyes resemble a puppy's when she sees his face poke around the corner. "can you get me a drink? please."

dad!simon, who has to restrain himself from taking his child from school.

dad!simon, who almost sheds a tear when he hears his little girl talk to him with a British accent similar to his.

"daddy! why would you do that." she whines, eyeing her father. simon looks down in surprise - not because of the fact that he knocked her blocks down, nor the fact that she'd curse him out had she known any curse words, but the fact that she's eyeing him with his eyes, with his harsh, British accent, she learned from him.

dad!simon, who almost looses it hearing his little boy call for him after school.

"daddy!" the boy called, running off the bus in the rain and into his fathers arms, under the umbrella. "i missed you!" simon never felt such a fuzzy feeling in his life.

dad!simon, who gets his kids name followed by whatever they want tatted on his neck.

dad!simon, who's always anxiously looking behind him in public while shopping in fear of someone taking his kid.

"you still there?" he asks gruffly, looking back anxiously when he doesn't get a response, only to see the small child too focused on his phone to respond. chuckling, simon continues walking.

dad!simon, who constantly reminds his child he loves them dearly.

"i love you." simon mumbles quickly, reminding his little boy for the hundredth time, holding his small body close as he watches his dads phone. "i love you too, daddy." the small boy responds, clearly fed up with his fathers admiration.

dad!simon, who doesn't mind threatening his little girls first boyfriend.

dad!simon, who got his babies hands tatted on his chest.

dad!simon, who still cries at the mere thought of his kid even existing.

you roll your eyes gently as your husband hides his face in your chest, tears staining your shirt. "simon.." "they're so sweet.." he'd mumble, voice slightly hoarse. you sigh, patting his back. "and i thought i was the one in post-partum depression."

simon looked down, viewing his little girl playing with toy soldiers she saw in the store earlier that day. she begged him to buy them for her, and here she was, making small explosion and shooting sounds with her mouth, throwing them around. and before he knew it - tears were flowing down his face.

simon sat quietly, watching his son fiddle with a puzzle toy he'd proclaimed to be his favorite earlier that week. concentration painted the small boys face. and yet, here simon was. crying.

dad!simon, who reminds his boy/girl that not everyone is the same after their first breakup.

dad!simon, who often reflects on his past and what he missed out of his family, wanting to give his kids so much more.

"m' gonna give you everything i've ever wanted.." simon says under his breath, holding his newborn son.

dad!simon, who adorns every one of his kids features and ensures he shows them every day.

#cyxnidx #call of duty simon riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley ghost #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfic #call of duty fandom #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty headcanons #call of duty smut #simon riley smut #cod smut #cod mw ghost #cod imagine #cod x reader #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #cod fluff #call of duty fluff #fluffy #simon ghost riley fluff #simon fluff #ghost fluff #fluff headcanons

[the-californicationist]

Hiii

First of all I wanted to thank you for your amazing fics 🤩. They have become a part of my life and I can’t live without them anymore 🥹💖

Secondly, I wanted to ask about a fic if you would consider. 🫶

Price is injured in his thigh and we are a medic. When attending to the wound the tension rises and a little bit of teasing from our part? 😌

Also, Price can’t take us like he wants because of the wound but we can do 69?

Or maybe something more thrilling! I know you are the greatest in ideas and writing! ❤️‍🔥

Thank you a loooot. (*＾3＾）/～♡

Do No Harm

After being shot in the leg, Captain Price is put on strict bed rest by his medic: you. When he threatens to break your orders, you decide to use your rank against him.

AO3 Link

TW: female reader, face fucking, hurt/comfort, come play

When the captain got shot, all hell broke loose. Ghost and Gaz retaliated swiftly, and the bomb that Soap rigged to blow the enemy encampment was more than a little overkill. The four of them had shown up back at your makeshift base, sweaty, bloody, and exhausted. 

“What happened?” You asked the tall lieutenant, searching his face as he removed the skull mask, looking for signs as to how serious it was. 

“He took a hit to the thigh. Dead bloody center,” the tall Brit rolled his captain over, the latter of whom let out a torrid string of curses and shouts, nasty enough to make you blush. 

You inspected the wound, but his clothing was in your way. Ripping your scissors out of your chest armor, you set to cutting him out of his trousers, and you tried not to let the panic get the best of you. 

The truth was that you were keeping a secret. You were sleeping with their captain. You and John had broken a series of rules (and furniture) over the past four months, enjoying each other in the most primal, carnal way. Every night that he was on base, he sneaked into your medbay, aching with something other than pain and searching for his cure. 

You knew it was wrong. It was so far beyond protocol that you wouldn’t be surprised if they court martialed you when they found out, but you didn’t care. You were addicted to him. When he was away for too long, you crawled through the hallways and out into the common rooms with a slick problem between your legs. Something only his fat cock and filthy mouth could solve. 

He was terrible with you. Nothing was off-limits. He used you like a toy, and his fervid want was enough to burn you alive. In the darkness, his grasping hands and hot breath scorched your skin, searing across your belly, pinching your nipples, playing in your lips, all for the express purpose of making you come. It was his favorite thing. By the sixth, the seventh, when you were begging him to squeeze his pulsing rod inside of you, pleading in whispered cries for him to fuck you, he would chuckle with a dark joy. Teasing you, calling you his pretty little plaything, reminding you that you were fully at his mercy. 

It was hard to see him like this, but you were good at your job, and luckily, the bullet had gone right into the muscle. No broken femur, no arterial damage. Your predator would live to hunt you another day. 

“I need everybody out. Come back in an hour,” you commanded. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Gaz replied, leading the others out of the clinic to debrief and regroup after a hard night. 

You sliced through his canvas pants, slipping the shears through the fabric to reveal his bare skin. He never wore any underwear, which you were always quick to rib him for. Then, you inspected the wound. They had packed it in the field, and as you removed the dressings, more and more blood pooled out of the hole, obscuring your view. You worked as fast as you could, administering as much anesthetic as you had on hand, knowing that it wasn’t enough. He was doing everything he could not to writhe in pain as you threw stitch after stitch. 

“Jus’ wanted to get me alone, didn’t ya?” He teased you through gritted teeth. His voice was weak, but he was feisty, which was a good sign. 

You smiled down at him, joking around,

“You know it. But, you’re lookin’ a little worse for wear today, Captain. Might have to get my fix somewhere else.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, grabbing the side of the table hard enough to make the metal frame whine when you hit a nerve with your needle, “Another man lays a fuckin’ hand on you, and he’ll wish he hadn’t.” 

“Can’t have you reopening this wound, John. I worked hard on these stitches.”

“How’m I gonna sneak in to see you tonight?” He looked up at you with softer eyes, a youthful gaze on his face. 

You pitied him, winking cheekily, 

“Might just have to keep you here for observation.”

His whole body relaxed then, relieved in a way you hadn’t expected. You had just been kidding around, but his reaction made you change your mind. If he felt better with you in your clinic, you’d add it to the orders. The last thing you needed was your headstrong man limping through the base just for a chance at some action. 

You finished up, cleaning the wound and surrounding skin, wiping down the rest of him as best you could. He was filthy, and the water in your bucket was full of sand by the time you were done. But, he still smelled like the sun and his sweat, and it was enough to make the animal part of your mind practically salver at the idea of how his skin must taste. The saltiness, full of his pheromones… you chastised yourself for even thinking about it. 

He was finally asleep, full of morphine and exhausted from his ordeal. Gaz popped back in, and you told him you’d be keeping their commander overnight. You thought you’d gotten away with your little game, but there was a knowing glint in the sergeant’s eye that told you he knew more than you thought. 

You tried not to stress about it. His men were loyal to him, and you knew they wouldn’t rat you out. But, still. You made a mental note to be more careful in the future. 

Your bedtime routine was short and easy. You slipped into some shorts and one of John’s abandoned tee shirts. Luckily, it looked like everyone else’s tee shirt, so no one was the wiser. You could always say you stole a larger one from the supply room. But, it smelled like him, and you slept like a rock when you wore it. 

You climbed into bed, and before you could even think about going to sleep, the ache between your legs reared its horny head, coaxing you to touch yourself, disguising itself as a tingle, an itch that needed to be scratched. As soon as your fingers pried apart your soft petals, you discovered the truth. You were soaking wet, and your core was hot like molten lead, giving your digits no resistance as you played with yourself, slipping them in and out of your slick folds. 

You heard a noise escape from your throat against your will, and you tried to hold it back, rolling your eyes from the slam of pleasure that rushed to your head. You were dizzy with want, and even though you tried to quiet the sound, you could hear your own wet flesh popping and sluicing with more and more of your precome, preparing you for an encounter you knew you couldn’t have. 

You came quickly, and without much warning, clenching down on nothing, biting your hand to keep from screaming for him. You peeked over your shoulder, and luckily, he hadn’t woken up. You thought about how nice it would feel to have his big body curled against you as you crashed into a deep slumber, the scent of your wet hand and his old shirt mixing together and lulling you to sleep. 

There was no way to tell how much time had passed, but when you woke, it was still dark. Your eyes darted over to the clinic table, and John was… missing?

You sat up with a start only to find him fully naked at the end of your bed, getting ready to crawl in beside you. 

“John!” You hissed, “What are you doing? You can’t be walking around.”

“Gotta have you, love. I’m so hard, it hurts.”

“You were shot in your fucking leg, Jonathan Price. Let me see the dressing.”

“Quit fussin’ over me, girl. C’mere,” he covered you with his body and grabbed your wrists, forcing you to lay beneath him, flat and vulnerable. He set to pulling away your clothes, making quick work of it, sighing raggedly when he felt your naked body beneath his own. 

But, he was in pain. You could see him adjusting and readjusting, trying to figure out how he could fuck you like he wanted to, unable to find a solution. 

“John,” you whispered, feeling his mouth on your neck, “We can’t. You’re going to hurt yourself. Don’t make me order you to stop.”

“I’m your commander,” he breathed, threatening you with his teeth, leaving a bruise on your sensitive skin. 

“Don’t…” you gasped as his fingers found your gooey center, “Don’t confuse your rank for my authority, Captain Price. You’re under my care.”

He glared at you, coming to a pause, leaving his fingers in you to play in your hole, gently pulsing in and out, teasing you just enough to keep you on the edge, 

“You want me to stop? Hm?”

The more he teased you, the more hot slick collected on his hands, sticky and clear, covering his fingers and making him harden with every moment. 

Then, he took a sharp breath in through his nose, and paused, hiding his grimace in the crook of his arm. You canted your hips, removing his hand from you, fed up with his defiance, 

“John, that’s enough. If you make me restitch that wound, I will have to do it without drugs. We’re out of anesthetic.”

“Please, love,” he held you close to him, letting you feel his hard length as it rolled against your tummy, making a trail of precome across your skin, “I need you. I’ve missed you so bad. Lemme fuck you. Put my cock in you.”

“Hold on,” you shifted your body so that he would turn on his side. Then, you lay opposite him, your head laying at the foot of the bed, bringing you face to face with his swollen, hungry cock. 

In this position, you could suck him off, and he wouldn’t need to use his thigh. 

You licked your lips, trailing them across his cockhead, collecting his salty pearls of pleasure and wearing them like gloss, suckling from his tip as softly as you could just to taunt him further. 

“Ahhh, fuck…” His sigh was delicious. All of that pain and all of the stress that had made him so tense rushed out of him, making his skin pebble with bliss. 

Without hesitation, John bent his head, pulling your hips to his open mouth, and wrapping your leg under his arm, eating your pussy and groaning with a lurid, feral pleasure. 

The feeling of his soft lips and scruffy beard against your sensitive skin flung you into a spiral of pleasure. You could feel his warm tongue prodding and exploring through you, greedily splitting you to get to your hot, honeyed center. 

You wanted more of his taste, so you went to work, stretching your jaw to accommodate his girth, taking him deeper into your throat, using your tongue to trace a wet circle around his head when you needed to catch your breath, teasing him just beneath his foreskin. When you did, his cock throbbed for you, egging you on, eager to drip its load into your mouth. 

“Fuckin’ hell, love. Gonna make me come,” he threatened. 

Suddenly, you felt his fingers dip back inside of you. He was aggressive with his fondling, shoving two of his thick digits deep inside of you, curling them cruelly to press upon your most pliant, responsive spot. 

As he fucked you with his hand, he let his tongue lap against your clit, making you whine around his dick, muffled by his shaft. You felt his hips begin to thrust forward and back, desperately fucking your throat, getting closer and closer to releasing his orgasm inside of you. 

You couldn’t wait to taste him. You wanted him to use you. You didn’t want to hurt him, but the truth was — as hungry as he was for your body — you needed him just as badly. 

You felt your body begin to tense, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he would have you coming on his hands. He kept his pace, knowing your favorite rhythm, humming to himself as he devoured you, sucking up every drop of your wetness as if he’d never drink from your tight font again. 

Your toes curled, your legs tried to close in on themselves, stopped by his body trapped between them, and something snapped inside of your core, letting loose spiraling sparks of pleasure, breaking you apart over and over, only for each gentle lick from his tongue to put you back together. 

“Mmhm,” he praised you, “Good girl. Just like that. Rub your come on my mouth.”

You did as you were told, no longer in the driver’s seat when it came to your body, fully trained to submit to his will. You shamelessly smeared your pussy across his bearded jaw, humping lewdly against him, all for him to whisper gratefully between licks, 

“Yes, more. More. Give it to me. Fuck my mouth, love. Fuck, I love it. Fuck…”

All the while, he was thrusting into your mouth, deeper and deeper, choking you on his hardness. But, you let him. You allowed him to use you, holding onto his hips for dear life, breathing in every gap that he left, gasping for air, feeling yourself getting dizzy. 

“Are you ready for me?” He groaned, peering down at you between your bodies.

You moaned something you hoped sounded like a yes, and he turned his full attention towards you. You felt his fingers leave your pussy, only to wrap themselves through your hair, sticky and messy, making a strong, merciless grip at the base of your skull. 

He fucked you in earnest, then. It was gratifying to hear his satisfied grunts, and as you felt his cock swell even more, you knew he was about to come. Your mind wanted air, but your body wanted his load. You wanted to feel it slip into your  throat, hot and milky, pouring down your neck like a salacious prize. 

Finally, he went stock-still, and the only thing that moved was his cock. It throbbed inside of you, shooting rope after rope of heavy come down your tongue, painting your mouth white. 

He removed himself from you as quick as he could, pulling your head back up to your pillow, bringing you face to face with him, whispering in an animalistic tone, 

“Lemme see it, pretty girl. Open up. Let me… ahh, yes. That’s it.”

He dipped his finger into your mouth, gathering up his own orgasm onto the tip, smearing it around your lips like he was putting on your makeup. 

You were panting, gasping in the air you so desperately needed, and you tried not to swallow, gathering up as much of his foaming fluid on your tongue as you could, sticking it out for him, showing him what a good girl you could be. 

He took more of it onto his hand and dipped down between your legs, painting your swollen folds with his spend, mixing your come together like some ritual. 

You couldn’t help but whimper. You were overstimulated and raw, and he shushed you, bringing his hand back up to play with your soft nipples, 

“Shh, it’s okay, love. It’s okay. Kiss me.”

You felt his mouth crash into yours, and your own heady taste invaded your senses, folding in with his, making your body roll itself against him, begging him for more. 

“Leg already feels better. C’mon, love. Give us the go ahead, hm?”

“I will tie you to this bed, John Price. Don’t test me,” you looked up at him before laying your head on his furry chest, breathing when he breathed, watching his hairy belly rise and fall. 

“Promise?” He chuckled, pulling you closer and holding you there all night, unwilling to compromise, claiming you in every way he knew how. You dozed against him, sated and happy, wondering how long you could keep a secret this good. 

Sorry for the wait! Work is hellish right now, but as soon as this semester is over with, I'll be posting more. Thanks for letting me know your thoughts.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #john price #cod #captain price #captain price x you #call of duty #captain price x reader #captain price x female reader #captain john price x female reader #john price x female reader #john price smut #captain price mw2 #oh captain my captain

[toji-girl]

can you please do soft sex with pregnant! reader x toji, thank you 🙏🏼

yes, ofc! 🤭🥰 pregnant! readers are my soft spot!!!

tags: pregnant! fem reader + sleepy sex + cowgirl + no prep because we're needy and want him

One a.m. you were miserable.

Tossing side to side while Toji slept peacefully next to you, his arm seeking you out to wrap it around your waist over your small belly bump keeping you next to him.

He pulled you into his chest, your back pressing against him as he nuzzled his face into your neck as his hand slipped under your shirt to cup your breast.

Two a.m. you were ready to start dry humping air. Everything felt stiff as you tried to get comfortable and ignore the deep burning between your legs and while he was asleep your husband didn't help either.

"Toji." You whined softly, nudging against him, your ass flush with his cock that grew.

You felt it throb between the thin layer of his boxers, hot and heavy. "What is it?" He asked gruffly, keeping his eyes closed while you ground back against him giving him his answer in silence.

He rolled to his back letting you follow suit as you straddled his thighs to jerk the band of his boxers down hearing the soft slap of his fat cock slapping against his stomach. "Always so needy 'f some cock."

Toji cracked one open to watch you take what you wanted, his dick throbbed in your fist as you lined him up to the soft opening of your pussy that drooled slick. "You made me this way." You told him.

He chuckled and rested his hands on your hips helping you sink down on him. Your face contorted into a mixture of pain and pleasure, the sting from him splitting you open had you gasping..

"Look so pretty." He praised you gruffly, his voice clogged with sleep as you rode him nice and slow sitting down fully and feeling the flushed tip kiss your cervix, his praise made your face flush with heat.

You bent down at the waist to kiss him deeply as you ground your hips down, your tongue stroking along his as he helped you move back and forth grunting against your lips feeling your pussy hug him.

Ever since you both found out about the bundle of joy your sex drive seemed to only go up a few notches leaving Toji struggling to keep up, you were truly insatiable, always rubbing up against him with those fuck me eyes, his ultimate weakness.

Your soft moans filled the room as his fingers dug into your hips, the cool metal of his ring felt nice against your scorching skin. "You feel so good inside me baby, I love you so much Toji." Tears priced at your eyes as you slowed the pace making love to him.

With his feet pressed flat against the mattress he thrust up into you taking over when he noticed how tired you got. Carefully Toji pushed you off him to take the spot next to him so he could slide back into you while kneeling between your legs that wrapped around him.

He was gentle about each movement and thrust that made your toes curl each time he bottomed out, his hips flexing with each roll. "I love you too doll, now be a good girl for me and cum on my cock." He demanded softly in your ear nipping the lobe gently.

All you needed was his voice and the command to do so, your cunt squeezed around him as your orgasm washed over you. "Yes! Yes!" You cried out softly wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him down to press your mouth to his in a needy and hot kiss.

Toji grunted as he felt you so warm and wet pulsing around his cock that twitched inside as he filled you to the brim while petting your hair helping you come down from your high. "My good girl." He praised kissing your forehead chuckling when you giggled softly.

"That's all I ever want to be." You murmured softly looking at him thankful for the streetlamps that provided enough light to see his handsome face that you peppered in kisses, a silent thank you.

#💌incoming #tw: pregnancy #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #toji x reader smut #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x you #toji x reader #jjk x reader #toji smut #toji x you smut #jjk toji #toji x pregnant reader

[ponderingmoonlight]

hi, <3

I've been working for a week now, so I don't have time to send you ideas, but there are SO MANY in my head.😭😭😭 I do not know what to do!!!I think you've already guessed that I'm in love with Nanami's dad!! He's so cute as the father figure.Imagine that Kento and his wife had their first child (a girl) and when Kento comes home to his daughter and wife, he sees that his daughter is wearing a small bodysuit with the text “I love daddy” and Nanami just looks and is touched. DADNANAMIDADNANAMIDADNANAMI🤤🫦

Okay I cried my eyes out while writing this and the cover sent me over the edge 😭 But THANK YOU SO MUCH for that precious request my love, let me know what you think <3

Nanami's reaction to his daughter wearing a jumper saying "I love daddy"

Pairing: Nanami x wife!reader; Nanami x fem!daughter

Word Count: 1,3k

Synopsis: After the incidents of Shibuya and his wife getting severely injured, Nanami is relieved to know his new family safe and sound. A little suprise from his precious wife seems to be enough to make a grown man cry in joy though...

Warnings: cuteness overload, this had me balling in the best way, might be the comfort you need this is canon

This is like a spin-off to the "Haruta seeking revenge on Nanami's heavy pregnant wife" fic - just click on it to read it first!

To say the last few months were a trip to heaven and hell at the same time would be an understatement. Despite the horror the Shibuya incident caused, even though the attack of Haruta left both you and your precious baby to risk, you somehow made it all out alive. Kento, you and the little angel of daughter you gave birth to exactly one month after Shibuya.

“I’ll leave in five minutes, regardless of what you have to tell me afterwards”, he sends towards the man in front of him who is asking him for the hundredth time about the Shibuya incident.

Finally, this way too long day is over. A day without seeing you the whole time, a day without his little one by his side. Due to the fact that delivering your baby girl was rather difficult after the severe wound wasn’t healed yet, Shoko prescribed strict bed rest for you within the next few months. You are barely able to stand up on your own, let alone go to the toilet. Most of the time you lay on the couch with your daughter by your side, watching your favourite show on TV until you greet him with the brightest of smiles.

But even though every minor step causes you visible pain and it’s hard for you to be on your own, you insisted on him continuing doing his job. After all, somebody has to take care of poor Yuji when you’re not around. And since Gojo is gone, whole Jujutsu High seems to be an endless mess. Yes, somehow you did eventually convince him of leaving you every single morning. Even though he hates letting go of you after what happened not long ago.

“I will leave now”, he announces before grabbing his suitcase and walking away without waiting for an answer.

In the meantime, it’s hard for you to sit still.

“Come on angel, please hold still for a second. We just need leg number one, leg number two, and…There you go!”

Your eyes almost overflow with joy, just staring at the tiny jumper your daughter wears makes you feel emotional all over again. Kento worked so much these last weeks, making sure that especially Yuji feels better after all those things that happened to him during Shibuya. And the fact that you’ve got severely injured…You’ll never forget the look of horror on his face when you collapsed into his arms, Shoko making it just in time before everything went black. For the split of a second you thought everything is over, that this will be the last time you’ve seen your husband. Oh, how you begged Shoko to save the life of your unborn child instead of yours, how you held onto Kento’s hand for dear life.

But seeing that bundle of joy laying in front of you, giggling happily while kicking her tiny feet in her brand-new jumper…You have to read the words all over again, the simple writing that says “I love daddy”. You were mindlessly scrolling through baby stuff when it caught your attention, thinking about how your beloved husband would react to it. There was absolutely no way out of ordering it.

“Daddy will love to see you in this.”

Just the thought of how Kento will react makes you kick your feet too, smiling down at your giggling daughter. Even though every little movement sends a wave of pain through your entire body, you try to stay as positive as possible. The discomfort will go away eventually, but the joy Kento has gifted you with will stay forever.

You can sense him before he put the key into the lock right away, heart pounding so hard that it feels like jumping out of your body.

“This is out time angel”, you whisper into your daughter’s tiny ear before sitting up and staring at the door in sheer excitement.

Nanami’s heart skips a beat when seeing you, looking so adorable dressed in his way too big t-shirt and sweatpants.

“What are you smiling about, sweetheart?”

The second he lays his eyes on your flawless face decorated with that breath-taking smile, he is lost all over again. But by now it’s not only you who awaits him. No, next to you curled up on the couch lays the little bundle of joy that makes his happiness complete.

“I’m just so glad your back! How-ah…”

A minor groan escapes your lips as you try to sit up straight, Kento instantly rushing to your side.

“Hey, think about what Shoko said. No need to rush, we have the whole evening for ourselves, darling”, he gently speaks out, his hands caressing your back moderately.

He hasn’t seen it yet, the blanket on top of your daughter hiding the jumper very well from him. But you can’t contain your excitement any longer. For a moment, you’ll have to put your aching aside.

“Actually, there’s something I wanted to show you…”

Your husband tilts his head to the side, a tender smile creeping up his face before he can stop it. You look so utterly excited that he can’t help but wonder what you mean.

“I wonder what leaves you this excited.”

“Well, there aren’t many things apart from you that get me excited”, you reply with a sly grin.

“But maybe you should take a closer look at your daughter.”

Your heartbeat picks up even more as soon as he looks at your precious little angel, hand gently brushing over her tiny cheek. Slowly, he lifts her off the couch, blanket falling down and revealing her new jumper. You hold your breath, your husband’s eyes locked onto her body.

“I love daddy”, he reads out loud.

His smile widens, eyes turning glossy in pure admiration. Oh, how much he adores you, how much he loves you in every single way. Why does he suddenly turn this emotional? Why does the sheer sight of his daughter with a jumper saying “I love daddy” make him tear up? The last months were so rough on him, it was never granted that he’ll be able to hold his daughter like this while you sit next to him. For a few horrible seconds, he thought he lost you both.

But now you’re here. And you really think that he’s a good dad.

“Words can’t express how much that means to me…”, he mumbles, pressing his daughter against his chest and closing his eyes.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to make you cry love”, you instantly reply while getting up from the couch way too quickly.

Your husband catches you just in time before you fall back onto the couch, his free hand wrapped tightly around your waist while his daughter rests against his shoulder.

“You are the best thing that ever happened to me, (y/n). And to top it all off, you gifted me this beautiful daughter. You are so strong, I am so proud of everything you have done these last few months.”

His words his you in your feelings with full force. Despite the fact that you are a strong and composed woman, tears start to stream down your face like a waterfall while your gaze never leaves his. God, how much you love that man, how thankful you are for the fact that he survived. And for the bundle of joy that rests against his shoulder. You never thought your life would turn out like this, eventually. A snack of a husband holding you tightly in one hand while carrying your daughter with the other.

“I love you, Kento Nanami. That jumper says nothing but the truth”, you hush lightly.

Oh, Kento will definitely make sure of that.

“I love you too, sweetheart. And you, my little angel.”

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[fallenneziah]

Warm welcome.

Summary: Simon comes home to discover you're a bit riled up and too desperate to wait for him properly.

Cw: NSFW, p in v, afab! The reader uses she/her, oral (f! receiving), still self-conscious of my smut 🫣 prone to editing mistakes.

Simon had spent a long deployment away from home. After countless nights awake on the phone listening to you in all different ways while you talked about how you were so excited for him to come home. And now he was. Standing just outside the house, he opened the door and dropped his duffle bag on the floor.

He was silent for a moment, letting the sound of the door attract attention but it was... quiet.

He looked around, taking off his boots and entering the home further. He didn't see you, but he did hear you.

The sound of desperate moans through the walls very clearly coming from your shared bedroom. Cries of pleasure make his blood spike and boil as he immediately jumps to every other conclusion.

He runs up the stairs, determined to catch you in the act, his heart pounded. He reaches the bedroom and prepares himself before opening the door. When he did he was a little shocked.

You weren't with another man. He felt... a little foolish. Seeing you bent over the bed, moaning desperately as your vibrator moves against your soaked clit. Desperately moaning his name, chasing your orgasm.

You were nearly fully unaware Simon was home, and seeing you like this. He couldn't leave his poor dear to suffer.

He pulled off his gloves and approached, climbing onto the bed and moving behind you. You gasped, feeling the dip of the mattress, and looked back, eyes widening and then filling with joy when you saw him.

"Simon-!"

"Shh, you look like you could use some help there, sweetheart." He said deeply, seeing your eyes fill with lust.

"Yes-! Oh god yes, I'm so close!" You whimpered, feeling his hands move down to grab your ass.

"How about we go a little slower?"

"Simon please!"

He chuckles, grabbing your wrist and forcing your vibrator from your clit. It makes you whine, his fingers dragging through your labia, from your tortured clit to your sloppy hole, feeling how tight You've gotten.

"Look at you sweetheart..." he rubbed your juices on his fingers, pulling off his mask and leaning down, pushing your legs further apart to lap at the juices flowing from your cunt.

"Oh, Simon-" you gasp, feeling his tongue press against your clit and suck.

He hums, pressing himself deep into your cunt, sucking on your labia and pulling away with a pop.

He rubbed your abused cunt, patting it and pressing his fingers to your tight slit.

"Couldn't wait a couple hours for me hey love??" He chuckles softly, pressing his fingers into your slit, his cock hardening in his pants feeling how tight you'd gotten, and yet how well you take his fingers after the months.

"N-no-"

"So desperate... it's been months love, how often have you been playing with your toy, hm? How many times have you fucked yourself and wished I was there, filling you with my seed and not this plastic thing."

You moaned, his fingers pressing into you, despite the tightness he was determined to work his fingers knuckle deep in like he always did.

"Fuck I missed this cunt sweetheart..."

You whimper, looking back at him and seeing his eyes filled with lust. His free hand undid his uniform, exposing his scarred chest and pulling his cock out, stroking it a few times. He continued to press his fingers deep into your cunt, curling and pushing his knuckles deep, making you cry out and desperately sputter his name.

"Oh fuck, my good girl." Simon pulled his fingers out of your cunt, rubbing the juices all over his cock, and lined himself up.

Pressing his cock against your sloppy slit, hand on the base of your spine, keeping you still as he pressed his thick cock into you.

You gasped, moaning and arching, pain colliding with pleasure as Simon moulded you to his cock again, making sure your insides remembered his violent poundings.

He groaned, bottoming out in you and taking a moment to relish in the tightness and wet heat.

"Fuck, baby-" he groaned, grabbing your hips and pressing his hands flat against your ass, pulling back and slamming back into you.

You moaned, crying out his name as his hips got to work, dragging in and out of your cunt, driving into you.

"Fuck- bloody hell I needed this. Always need you baby."

Your arms shook, laying down on the sheets, arms shaking. The bed creaks desperately as Simon's hips speed up, so deprived of you.

The adrenaline rushed through his veins and the throbbing tight heat clamped around his cock making him feel stir-crazy.

"Always fucking need you, god dammit!" He growls, pulling you up by your hair and making you scream.

His free hand grabs the flesh of your stomach, keeping you close as he rams his hips into you.

Your mouth falls open, his cock buried inside you, his skin slapping against yours. The feeling of his hand in your hair and clasping to your stomach makes your cunt clench needily. You needed Simon, you needed every part of him.

"You gonna cum for me baby?" Simon whispers, biting your ear.

You nodded, panting heavily and trying to focus.

"Cum for me- fucking cum on my cock." He snarls, pulling you even closer and pressing his face against yours.

You choke, hands gripping the sheets tight, knuckles going white. Your legs shake, knees planted on the mattress.

"S-Simon!"

Your cunt tightened, spasming. Your hips jerked as you came on his cock. The orgasm nearly reworks your brain. And his cock continues to drive through your cunt, balls deep inside you. Your cum dripping on his cock.

His short, deep breaths against your ear all you could focus on over the deep pleasure forcing it's way through the sensitivity of your cunt.

"Goddamnit-" he growled, holding you still, one arm wrapped around your stomach, his hips moving, desperately chasing his release.

He moves his other hand from your hair and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him, making sure you're paying attention.

He could see the tears in your eyes, unable to say anything, only powerless moans flooding out of your mouth.

"You have no idea how I missed you... wanting you every damn day. Got me wrapped around your little finger."

You nodded with a little motion into his tight grip.

"You know that?"

"Y-yes-! Oh god, Simon!" You moaned, eyes rolling back.

"Say it."

"You- oh fuck- y-you're wrapped around my finger."

"Yeah... and I ain't fucking afraid to admit anymore. Little minx, probably knew I was gonna find you like this. Your needy little cunt begging for a taste of my cock at the right time."

You couldn't reply, only feel his cockhead rapidly pounding deep against your g-spot, spot on every time. Simon grunted, the hand on your jaw moving, cupping your breast, and playing with the nipple.

"Fuck... fuck..." he groans, his hips becoming erratic in pace.

"Fuck- Fuck- fuck that's it." He practically whines. "Oh fuck yes-" His cock jumps inside you, your gummy warm walls clamping around him. He moans, fucking you as fast as he possibly could, and then came to a halt.

His seed spilling into your womb. You slumped, face down ass up once again...

You felt his lips against your shoulder, soft and tender kisses and gentle words.

"My love, I missed you.." he mumbled, pulling out and falling beside you.

"I missed you too..."

You shivered, feeling his cum deep inside you. You move onto your side, catching your breath as he wraps an arm around you. Now that he's gotten that out of your systems for the next three hours.

He leans in, caressing your cheek and giving you tender, soft kisses.

"Fuck love..." He whispers.

You lean against him, arms wrapping around him and indulging in the sweet kisses. Inhaling through your nose, knowing his warm smell. The hint of cigarettes and whiskey on his lips.

He closed his eyes, indulging in your kisses, and slipped his hand back down between your legs.

"Simon..." You whispered, kissing him again, feeling his tongue press into your mouth. He hums, gliding his fingers through your labia and pressing against your slit.

You moan softly, kissing him and relaxing as the intensity comes down. He pulls away and lowers himself down on the bed, pressing your knees apart and settling himself there.

"Simon." Your voice hitched, watching his tongue slowly lap at your juices and your swollen clit. Your sloppy, pulsing pussy.

You tasted so good to him, and he continued, two fingers rubbing along your slit and pressing inside, tongue lapping over your clit as well. It made you moan, gasping softly, hand moving down to run through his short hair.

He pulled back, looking up at you with lust-filled eyes and smiled softly.

"My good girl... my beautiful, gorgeous girl." He whispered, pressing soft kisses on your cunt.

"Fuck- Simon- I'm so sensitive- please-"

"I know baby... I know." He whispered, continuing to rub your clit and suck on your labia, pressing his fingers deeper into you.

"You taste so good darling, can't get enough."

You shivered, panting and looking down at him.

"My Simon." You whispered a small smile on your face.

He chuckled, continuing to rub and suck. The gentle movements, make you gasp, your head tilting back and your chest heaving.

He laid flat on his stomach, knees relaxing and hands holding your hips. Tongue lapping through your labia and flicking his tongue on your clit.

He sucked gently, making you gasp and arch your back.

"Oh god, Simon..." You whine, your hands gripping his hair and tugging.

He smirked, continuing to lap and suck at your cunt. His eyes closed and relished in the taste of you, and your reaction.

You were desperate to cum again, your legs shaking, and your stomach tightening. "Just like that Simon..." You gasp softly, pushing his head down. Simon's fingers sank into your cunt faster, feeling your body tensing up, chasing after your orgasm with you. Lapping at your clit and he felt your hips jump, breath catching and your orgasm hit.

He lapped at your spend as your cunt spasms, slowly pulling away to look up at you.

You pant softly as he crawls back up beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"I missed you, Simon." You whispered.

"I missed you too." He kisses your temple, snuggling up against you. Closing his eyes and relaxing against your warm skin.

"Welcome home." You whisper, relaxing as well.

#cod smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon riley x reader smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader smut #simon ghost riley x reader

[eroselless]

PATO - THREE

series masterlist | part 2 | part 4

[charles leclerc x reader, carlos sainz x reader]

warnings: angst, fighting, tiny bit of violence (a slap makes an appearance but that’s it, not directed at the reader), pregnancy, description of birth/labour (might be a little inaccurate), breastfeeding, assholey Charles, Spanish

note: Part 3! Baby is here! We’ll be doing some time jumps from time to time, each chapter marked with a date and relative time in the reader's pregnancy. The name I chose for the baby comes from my personal list of baby names, I couldn’t resist. Lucero is pronounced loo-seh-row :) I hope you guys enjoy it!

SPAIN, OCTOBER 2023

3rd trimester/month 9/week 37

“¡Puja, mi amor! ¡Sé que puedes!” The voice cuts through the air as you push with all your might Push, my love! I know you can do it! The contraction finally lets up, and you gasp, collapsing back against the hospital bed. You’re exhausted, every muscle straining from the effort. Your body is drenched in sweat, and your hair is matted to your forehead. It's been four gruelling hours.

You squeeze the hand that’s trapped between your fingers, seeking reassurance. The next contraction starts deep in your hips. “Ya casi estás, casi está aquí la bebé,” You're almost there, the baby is almost here. Lips press gently to your forehead, a touch of comfort that should somehow make the pain bearable. But you flinch away, any touch sending pain signals through your body. 

“I can’t… I can’t do it,” you croak, your breath coming out in ragged bursts. Tears mix with the sweat on your face, and the feeling of defeat threatens to overwhelm you.

“Sí puedes,” the voice says firmly. Yes, you can. A cool cloth wipes over your forehead, the cold fabric bringing a brief moment of relief. “Just one more push, you’ve got this,” one of the nurses says.

You shake your head again, tears pricking your eyes. The wave of pain returns, and you cry out. “I can’t,” you repeat, voice breaking. “I can’t do it.”

“Yes, you can,” the voice insists. Their fingers are still trapped in your grip. “Respira, inhala, exhala. You’re so strong, you’re almost there.” breathe, inhale, exhale. 

The nurse starts counting down, guiding you through the next push. You see another nurse enter the room, holding towels. You take a deep breath, and with a final surge of energy, you push with all you have left.

The room falls silent as if everyone is holding their breath, the tension palpable. Just when you think you might faint from the effort, a sharp, piercing cry fills the air.

A baby’s cries echo around the room, a beautiful, life-affirming sound. You collapse back against the pillows, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. Tears of relief and joy mingle with the sweat on your face.

“Lo hiciste, mi vida. Lo hiciste,” the voice says, filled with awe and pride. You did it, my life. You did it. Their fingers wipe away the tears on your face, and they press their lips to your hairline.

You open your eyes, blinking away the blur of exhaustion, and see the nurse approaching you with a tiny swaddle. The baby is placed on your chest, and her cries cease as she makes contact with your skin. Your eyes tear up again, but this time with tears of pure joy as you hold your baby close.

“Mirala, que bella,” the voice says, fingers trailing gently over the baby’s cheek. Look at her, how beautiful. The baby’s skin is still grimy, but you don’t care as you trail your fingers over her little body. She’s finally here.

You look up at the person whose hand you held as you pushed her out, your eyes full of love and gratitude. You lean into them as they coo at the baby. “Thank you,” you say, your voice trembling with emotion.

“Siempre, mi amor. Always,” they reply, their own eyes glistening with happy tears. The room is filled with a peaceful silence, broken only by the soft murmurs of the nurses and the gentle coos from the baby. You cradle your daughter close, feeling a sense of completeness you’ve never known before. At that moment, all the pain and fear melt away, replaced by an all-encompassing love for the tiny life you now hold in your arms.

MEXICO, OCTOBER 2024

The paddock buzzes with energy as you arrive, a storm of activity everywhere you look. The atmosphere is both intimidating and exhilarating, a stark contrast to the races you had attended before. But this time, you weren't covering your face or walking alone.

You shift Lucero in your arms as she snuggles closer to your chest, sucking her thumb and occasionally dribbling spit onto your shirt. Navigating through the busy entrance, you scan both of your passes. Carlos’s hand rests protectively on your back, guiding you through the throng of journalists and fans. He makes eye contact with them, smiling and stopping briefly to sign autographs for young fans holding out their cars and caps. Some journalists wave at Lucero, captivated by her big blue eyes and tousled chestnut hair. A few of them seem to recognize you, but most don’t.

Despite the nerves, you maintain a calm demeanour as you make your way further into the paddock. Carlos’s hand is a steady presence on your back, gently urging you forward. You hear Charles’s voice in your mind, from almost two years ago, expressing concern about how you'd handle the cameras. But you don’t feel as nervous as you thought you would. You’re okay.

Approaching the Ferrari garage, the familiar colours fill you with nostalgia. It's been so long since you’ve seen the inside of the garage. The image of Charles on the wall seems to follow you as you walk in with Lucero and Carlos. From afar, you spot Fred Vasseur waving you down, a surprised look on his face.

“It’s so good to see you!” he greets warmly, hugging you and then Carlos. His eyes twinkle as they land on Lucero. He pokes teasingly at her tummy, eliciting a two-toothed smile from her as she hides her face in your chest, peeking out at him shyly with one eye. "And who is this?"

“This is Lucero Ines,” you introduce, your voice steady. “My daughter.”

Fred smiles, rubbing a finger over her chubby shoulder. He leans in closer to get a better look at the 1-year-old. “She’s beautiful, has your eyes.” 

You smile at the comment, glancing into her sapphire eyes as they seem to gleam under the light of the sun. They were just like her father’s, wide and full of wonder. Though she did share many features with her father, every time she smiled, Carlos would only see your face reflected in hers. 

Only he and Aunt Ines knew the truth. Keeping the baby from Charles proved to be hard but you could only think about the nights you stayed up wrestling with doubt and fear, mind full of memories of the past. 

Fred’s eyes twinkle with affection as he babbles at Lucero, her little fingers wrapped around his.

He lets out a final chuckle and bids you adieu, letting you know that he’ll see you inside and Carlos leads you into the garage. Some of the engineers wave at you, welcoming you back. They exchange glances, their expressions puzzled as if trying to place a familiar face.

Carlos settles you down at the front of the garage where guests are congregating. Celebrities and journalists chatting amongst themselves, cameras scanning over the small crowd.

“Ya vengo, mi amor,” Carlos says, bending down to press a kiss to your lips. I’ll be right back, my love. “I’m gonna go change.” He lovingly pinches Lucero’s cheek and makes his way to his driver room.

You stand alone with your daughter in your arms, eyes tracing over the track as you do. It isn’t quiet by any means but you feel an ease creep settle in as your mind wanders away from you. You suddenly feel Lucero start to squirm in your arms. She wriggles out, a sign that she wants to be put down. She gurgles happily as she pads around, pulling you forward. She holds tight to your fingers, still unable to hold herself up on her own. Fred gives you a smile as he returns, holding a small snack in his hands. “For our little Princess of Ferrari,” he dubs her, wagging it within her reach before handing it to her. She takes it in one hand biting at the wrapping before shaking it in your direction as if to mamá, open. He lets out a smile, telling you about the race and how much of a pleasure it is to have you back in the Ferrari garage. He takes a turn holding on to Lucero as she waddles around, shoes squeaking with every footfall. 

There’s a light breeze that ruffles your hair as Carlos approaches, scooping up Lucero from Fred’s grasp. She lets out a squeal as he tickles her, laughter echoing throughout the garage. The bright red of his racing suit contrasts with the white of your dress and the yellow of Lucero’s little outfit. He lovingly presses a kiss to her cheek and leans into you, breathing in your comforting scent as he nuzzles his nose into your hair. If that didn't tell the people around you that you were together you weren't sure what would. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Charles weaves through the paddock, deftly avoiding cameras and microphones. He checks his phone, mind still on the message he received from you that morning.

UNKNOWN: Hi Charles, it's Y/N. I’m going to be at the race today, we need to talk.

He had stared at it for a while, eyebrows knitted together with concern and curiosity. But he tucks his phone away from Alexandra’s eyes before she can spot it. It's the first he’s heard from you in nearly a year and a half and he can’t help but feel guilty as he walks into the paddock with Alexandra in hand. 

As he nears the Ferrari garage, he spots the crowd and pushes through, his fingers intertwined with Alexandra's. He kisses her swiftly before heading off to change into his race suit, returning shortly after. He tugs Alexandra further into the garage, catching sight of Carlos from a distance, his arm draped over a woman's shoulders.

He can't see the woman's face but he notices the baby in her arms, flailing and grasping at Carlos. Carlos takes the baby, blowing raspberries into her thick neck, eliciting a shrill laugh. The woman looks up at Carlos, smiling as he continues to play with the baby, who pulls off his hat, revealing messy hair underneath. Charles approaches his teammate, his attention drawn to the little one in Carlos's arms, now wearing their signature red cap. 

"Hey, mate," Charles says, his voice light and friendly. He places a hand on Carlos's bicep, pulling his attention away from the energetic baby. Charles doesn't recognize you right away, your head bent down, suddenly nervous. "I don't think we've met," Charles continues, stretching out a hand. Before he can say anything else, you turn your eyes up to face him, both of you wide-eyed. You don't know why his presence catches you off guard—you’d told him you’d be here and the reason why. It feels like you’re meeting him for the first time, like a girl awe-struck by her idol. The air feels thick with tension as he takes in the sight of you. He says your name, and it automatically takes you back to the night you last saw him.

You don't look much different than you did that night. Your hair is longer and shinier, your cheeks full and rosy. You look… happy. You suck in a breath as he introduces Alexandra, whom you recognize immediately. It feels like it was just yesterday when you were sobbing in your aunt's front yard. His eyes seem bluer than you remembered, the ring of green around his irises brighter than before.

You're pulled out of your daze by the sound of Carlos's hat hitting the pavement. Both of you reach down to grab it, your fingers brushing briefly, sending a wave of butterflies into your stomach. You don’t miss the feeling of guilt that also comes along with it. He hands it to you, standing back to his full height. As you mirror him, he finally notices Lucero kicking excitedly in Carlos's embrace.

His breath stills in his chest as he identifies your features in her face. She looks just like you, save for her thick brown hair and big blue eyes. Freckles are sprinkled across her nose, and there's a little mole on her cheek, identical to his. Whatever words he was going to say get lost in his throat, captivated by her gaze as her little hands reach out towards him as if she instinctively knows who he is. You quietly introduce her, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Carlos, holding Lucero securely, meets Charles’s eyes and glances at you. You give Carlos a subtle nod, a muted yes. Charles carefully takes Lucero from Carlos’s outstretched arms, his movements gentle and deliberate. “Hi, little Lu,” he says gently. You hold your breath as he cradles her, bouncing her slightly. She giggles, her small hands grabbing at his cheeks and hair, making him laugh. 

Charles tickles her underarms, eliciting more laughter from Lucero. You watch with a tight smile as Alexandra leans in, brushing a finger over the baby’s knuckles. Lucero shies away, suddenly interested in the zipper of Charles’s race suit and pressing her forehead to the red fabric. Charles’s emotions swirl in his chest, an inkling beginning to prod at his mind. He meets your eyes and crinkles his eyebrows at you. He sees something reflected in them that confirms the feeling in his gut. He carefully hands her back to you, his smile a mix of joy and sorrow. 

As he stands next to you, conversation flows between Alexandra and Carlos. She laughs, suddenly turning to Charles, “You’re so good with her,” she says, hand on his arm. “Maybe we should try for one.” She lets out a laugh, locking eyes with you as she does so. There is only awkward laughter that follows. 

“Anyways, I think we should be getting set up for the race,” Charles says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “It was nice seeing you, Y/N, Carlos.” He wags a finger at Lucero, walking away with Alexandra in tow.

You let out a sigh, squeezing Lucero lightly in your arms and leaning into Carlos, who now has an arm wrapped around your waist. You let out a breath, glancing between him and your daughter. “I know it's not her fault what happened with Charles but I can’t help but feel a little angry,” you admit with a dry chuckle.

He nods understandingly. “It’s okay to feel that way. She doesn’t know but you do. It's natural to have those feelings.” 

You take a deep breath, looking at Lucero who is now content in your arms. “I just want to protect her, to keep her safe from all of this,” you say referring to all the emotions that start to pool in your belly. 

Carlos wraps an arm around you, pulling you and Lucero closer. “We’ll protect her together. No matter what.”

You lean into him, pressing a fleeting kiss to the underside of his jaw. Your phone buzzes in your bag, a single notification lighting up the screen. 

cl: we’ll talk after the race. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The sun begins to hang low in the sky by the time the race nears its end. You sit in the back of the garage, Lucero tucked close to your chest as you breastfeed her under a blanket. You wince as she grinds her gums against you, her two little bottom teeth pinching into your skin. The race is coming to a close, both Charles and Carlos’s frustrations coming in through the headset you’re wearing. 

As they drive into parc fermé, Charles's frustration is obvious on his face, a look you recognized from the many occasions you witnessed it in the confines of your home. Ferrari cheers Charles on as he takes his spot on the third step of the podium. He’s showered in champagne along with Max and Lewis, respectively taking first and second places. Carlos smiles as he takes fourth, happy to join you back in the garage. 

“Hiciste muy bien, mi cielo,” you say, pressing a well-deserved kiss to his lips You did so well, my sky. He thanks you, a little frustrated with his miss of the podium. He kisses your hairline, fingers going to caress the puffy cheek of your drowsy babe. 

She’s still cradled in your arms, eyes now droopy, corners of her mouth white with milk. She the image of a little drunk baby, happy and full. “Me gusta que esten aquí, acompañandome,” he says I like having you guys here, accompanying me. You smile up at him, lovingly snuggling into his side. You let him go, gathering your things as he goes to his interviews and debriefs. You tell him you’ll wait for him at your hotel, nervous about seeing Charles.

It’s not until a few hours later that you find yourself sitting on the couch of your illustrious hotel room, across from the man you worked so hard to let go of. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Charles demands voice tinged with hurt and anger. Carlos sits next to you, eyes flickering between you both, ready to jump in when needed. Your chest feels heavy as you respond. “Believe me Charles, I wanted to. I was scared and I didn’t know how you’d react. I didn’t want to burden you or take you away from what you were working so hard for.”

“Burden me?” Charles echoes, incredulously. “She’s my daughter, Y/N. I had a right to know.” His eyes flash with brighter anger as he turns suddenly to Carlos. 

“And you? You knew this whole time and didn’t think to tell me?” His voice cracks slightly. “You took over my role in my family without even considering how I might feel.”

Carlos huffs, nostrils flaring slightly as he meets his gaze. “She was all alone and I did what I could do to help, it was about being there for a friend.” Charles doesn’t miss the gentle squeeze Carlos gives to your thigh as you hold your fingers up to your eyes, as if trying to hold tears back with the heels of your hands. He knows it's not his place but that doesn’t stop him from blurting out his next words.

“Oh sure, friends that kiss each other shamelessly in front of the whole paddock.” He’s caught by surprise as he feels a sharp sting across his cheek, face swinging to one side. Your hand now floats in the air in front of him. 

“You have no right to say that to us, Charles.” You say bitterly as you shove a finger in his face, now standing above him. His words reminded you of the shock you went through when his initial pictures with Alexandra came out. After they did, they didn’t seem to stop. They were everywhere, caught by paparazzi at any and every hour of the day. Lips pressed together in every. single. photo. Carlos pulls you back down to the couch, hands rubbing gentle circles on your arms. There’s a silence that echoes through the room as you slowly take your next breath. 

“I didn’t think you���d change,” you say, eyes blank and now dripping with tears.

“And I didn't want you to change solely for the sake of me staying. I wanted you to change because you wanted to. I needed stability and I was scared that you were getting too caught up with following your dreams and were going leave us behind.” You allow yourself to meet the cerulean orbs you couldn’t stop crying for as you confess. 

“I already felt so lonely long before even knowing about the baby, I didn't want to risk her having to go through the same thing.” 

His anger melts away at your words, giving way to sorrow and guilt. “I’m so sorry.” 

He leans forward, contemplating reaching out to touch even just your hand but he stops. "I just want to be a part of her life, Y/N. I’ve missed so much already." 

You nod at his words, fingers swiping at your cheeks. “And you will be but you need to prove that you can be there for her. Consistently.” 

Charles nods slowly, the weight of his past mistakes heavy on his shoulders. "I will. I promise I will." 

You shift your gaze between the two men, the importance of this moment pulsating. You could see the sincerity in Charles’s eyes, a little glimmer of hope for the two of you appearing for the first time in years. "We can make this work," You say quietly. "For Lucero. We need to put her first."

Charles takes a deep breath, nodding in agreement. "I know I have a lot to make up for. I’ve made mistakes, but I want to be there for her. I want to be the father she deserves." 

His words hang in the air for a moment before they seem to fully register in Carlos’s mind. He feels Charles begin to push him out of the role he took in your and Lucero’s lives. It suddenly feels for naught. A fear blooms in the back of his mind. Was he at risk of losing Lucero? And more importantly, of losing you?

Charles rises from his spot on the couch, wanting to see his baby one last time before heading out for the night. You guide him to the room you share with Carlos, showing him to her crib as she breathes deeply in her sleep. He reaches out, caressing her sleep-tossed hair. She flinches initially before relaxing into his touch. 

You watch the interaction, heart filling with yearning and uncertainty. “I promise I won’t let you down,” he whispers to her before turning to you. “The both of you.”

"I believe you, Charles. Just don't make promises you can't keep."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Charles bids you goodbye, collecting himself as he wanders over to the door of your hotel room. 

“Charles,” Carlos calls out as his teammate reaches for the doorknob. He stands a few feet away, lingering close to the couch where your animated conversation began. “I could never replace you in Lucero’s life.” His voice is soft, almost sad. “I saw it with my own eyes today at the paddock, how she reached for you as if she knew you already.”

Charles’s shoulders slumped, pride sparking in his chest. The thought of connecting and repairing the relationship with his daughter fills him with hope. 

“You’ll always be her father, no matter where you are. You’ll always be hers.” 

a/n: If you’ve gotten this far, thank you so much for reading! Any feedback, reblogs and likes are appreciated, they seriously keep me so motivated <3  on another note, do we have guesses for who might've been with the reader during labour? 

tags: @kravitzwhore @janeh22 @apollosfavkiddo @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @tremendousstarlighttragedy @sltwins @bwormie @marshmummy @honethatty12 @staplerrrr @smithieandy @loloekie @musicheaux

*strikethrough => tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you :(

#carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine

[lilislegacy]

It kind feels this fandom babys Percy and forget everyones been through things even Annabeth. She gets treated like shes the cause of some of his pain and therefore they shouldnt be together? When the guy would be depressed without her.

warning: i’m about to thought vomit. a lot.

RIGHT?? i try not to talk about it, but sometimes the way the fandom mischaracterizes and misunderstands percy really bothers me. the fact of the matter is: a lot of people want percy to be someone he’s not. and don’t get me wrong, i love that people have their own headcanons, but percy would hate the way people portray him in the fandom. and yes, it annoys me how people villainize annabeth in the meantime. they make him out to be this sensitive little guy and her this super mean toxic girl. when in reality they are complete equals. which is… the whole point.

percy has his insecurities, and he is super sarcastic and silly (largely in his head), but he’s a super strong and badass guy. he’s canonically very tough and intimidating. he has real human feelings, has big mood swings, and even gets emotional at some times (usually with his dad), but he’s not a sensitive guy, by any means. this is the same dude who’s been kicked out of every school, including military schools. he’s dealt with bullies and monsters and villains his whole life. he doesn’t get hurt or offended easily. and annabeth has been through just as much shit. it’s different, but it not “more” or “less” than he’s been through. and for some reason people don’t like this, but annabeth is the sensitive one in the relationship. she cries easily, she gets offended more easily, she feels and shows her emotions a lot more than percy. and that does not make her weak. and it’s the truth. so when people make her out to be this cold toxic person, who hurts little poor sensitive percy, it’s frustrating. it’s so wrong. they are both extremely strong. annabeth is percy’s biggest source of joy and comfort. she does not abuse him or degrade him.

no, their relationship is not perfect. neither of them are perfect. annabeth can be too prideful, and can tend to feel superior to others, but it’s just because she’s so intelligent. she’s aware of it and she actively works on it. in COTG, percy said whenever she gets excited about her day at school or proud of her accomplishments, she stops herself and asks about him instead. she knows she can be prideful, and wants to make sure percy knows she values and respects him. and percy, along with being impulsive, can be very insensitive. yes, it’s true. he is very loyal, but that doesn’t mean he’s always sensitive and considerate of people’s feelings. we see it so much, especially in battle of the labyrinth when he was an asshole to annabeth. some of it is because he can be very oblivious (no, not dumb), but some is just because of who he is. but he’s aware of it and actively works on it. like when he gave nico that big apology in heroes of olympus, and apologized to leo about calypso.

they are not perfect, because they are real. but they build each other up and love each other unconditionally. percy does not need people to protect him from annabeth. annabeth protects him more than anyone else. she takes care of him - physically and emotionally. and he does the same for her. they’ve been through a lot of crap, and they both help each other through it. they are partners. they are equals. neither are weak, and neither are toxic.

#pjo #answered

[manincaffeine]

We all are told that people change, friendships change, and that's life. But nothing prepares your tender soul for that shock. When a really close friend changes, it changes your world, ever so bitterly and ever so silently. You can't even mourn it properly because "Who cries over broken friendships? Lol, it's not like you were lovers." But you know in your heart how much it means to you. You know how helpless you feel, how cheated, and how absolutely broken. So you cry in dry tears, all alone, burning in that anger of "How can you ever change who we were? Who gave you that right? Don't you feel ashamed?" Yes, you feel that angry. But you don't fight. Why? Because it was SO naked. Even a blind person could see that you were being ignored, that you were being replaced, and that no one gave a damn about how it affected you. You felt insulted. We knew it. We talked about it how important we were to each other. We promised each other that we are family. And family stays family, remember? Family stays family. But was I your family? No. You just walked out on me as if it was a normal hi-hello. You broke my heart. And it's not that I did not try to keep it as normal as I could. I tried talking to you with the same laughter and smile. But I just could not. I could not just fake that emotion with you. It was like my soul was crying inside while I was trying to laugh with you. So I failed. And I started walking away from you. I wanted to share all those things with you as soon as they happened, like always. I almost picked the phone. But I did not tell you.

I knew we were not the same anymore. And you did not deserve to know my daily smile and tears. And hey, I did not find someone else to tell those things. I did not replace you. I just buried that friend, just dead. So in all those moments of utter joy and sheer pain, I was all alone. And my soul is so angry at you for leaving me alone like this. I will never forgive you. But I will still pray for you. You know why? Because I can still die for you. And you, you did not even care when we were going dead. How can you? How??

#desiblr #desi tumblr #txt post #txt #dark academia #intrusive thoughts #spiled ink #spilled thoughts #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writer #artists on tumblr

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Into My Arms

Pairing: Osferth x f!reader Warnings: Canon typical violence, smut, fluff. Word count: ~1.4k

Summary: Osferth is tired of her underestimating him, of being seen as nothing more than "Baby Monk", so goes out of his way to prove to her that he is so much more than that. A little birthday treat for @doomwhathouwilt - based on this request.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She points the tip of her sword to her opponent’s chest, dragging him closer by the shoulder as it plunges forward to the hilt, before sliding it back and watching him crumple in a heap before her, his lifeless eyes staring up towards a gray sky. She cannot hear the screams of pain, the cries of triumph around her over the roar of the blood in her ears.

Her body aches with exertion, the arrows in her quiver are long spent, meaning she has to use her blade to defend herself. As the fighting dies down she is left only with the hammering of her heart, panting for breath as the world swims back into focus, and she is greeted by the coppery smell of viscera and the rancid stench of shit. She feels like crying, the adrenaline that courses through her is beginning to subside as she watches what little remains of their opponents flee, the majority of their forces having been cut down.

There is rarely a dull moment on the road with Uhtred and his men; she's been with him since he parted ways with Brida, accompanying him and Leofric on their travels. She enjoys never settling anywhere for long, drinking ale and sharing stories beneath the stars. It keeps her skills as an archer sharp, their battles are frequent, though lately she finds herself tiring of them, there is little joy to be found in taking the life of another.

She longs to give up, to declare she can take no more, but as her weary eyes look up, taking in the aftermath of the battle, she is met with the very reason why she continues on. Osferth’s eyes, vividly blue and wide with fright remain fixed ahead, his grip on his weapon so tight his knuckles are blanched with the force of it. Though he fights courageously, there is fear in his heart and she worries about what will happen to him if she simply walks away from all of this. They all give him a hard time; he is a Christian, always seems to say the wrong thing and has no qualms with passing judgment on their behaviours that he deems inappropriate. Despite all of this, he is steadfast in his loyalty to the group, and so she along with the rest of them would gladly lay down her life for him.

They sit around the campfire, tending to the minor injuries they’ve sustained, cuts and scrapes alike. She bats away Sihtric’s attempts to dab at her temple with a moistened rag.

“It’s a scratch, leave it be,” She says with resignation. Her eyelids feel heavy as she stares ahead into the flames, she longs for sleep.

“I think this calls for ale and women!” Finan declares, slapping his thighs and standing up.

“And prayer,” Osferth adds, with a hopeful smile.

“Yes, but in that order,” Finan counters with a grin.

She remains seated as the four of them head towards the village, she has no desire to join in with their festivities.

Osferth glances over his shoulder, pausing and allowing the group to move ahead when he notices she remains where she is.

“Are you not joining us, my lady?” He asks, brows pinched together with concern.

“Not tonight, no,” She says quietly. “I’m not in the mood.”

He nods, returning to the fire and seating himself next to her. “Then I shall stay with you and keep you company.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I don’t. But I want to.”

She looks at him, a warm smile spreading across her face as she sees the sincerity in his eyes.

“There’ll be women waiting for you in the village,” She teases.

The tips of his ears turn pink. “I’m not interested,” He tells her with a shy grin.

“I doubt you’d know what to do with them anyway, Baby Monk,” She chuckles lightly.

“I do, actually,” His voice is stern, his expression hardened and she worries she’s offended him.

“I was only jo–”

Her words are cut off as Osferth leans in, pressing his mouth to hers. His lips are soft yet firm against her own and the kiss steals her breath away. He keeps their foreheads pressed close, his thumb tracing lightly over her cheek as he pulls back.

Her heart flutters wildly as her breaths come shakily. “Y-your blood still runs hot from battle, Baby Monk, we should not do this.”

“I am tired of waiting for you to see me as I see you,” He whispers. “Let me show you how much I desire you.”

This time when his lips capture hers, she returns the gesture with equal enthusiasm, allowing herself to get lost in the basic primal urge of feeling wanted.

Deft hands exchange caresses across each other’s bodies, each pass of their fingers serving to remove an item of clothing until the two of them lay bare beneath the night sky. Her flesh prickles against the chill of the air, but she barely notices as her eyes drink in the sight of the man before her.

She looks appreciatively, silently cursing the robes that have been swamping the hard planes of muscle of Osferth’s torso. Her breath hitches at the sight of his hardened length, it’s thick and long, flushed pink at the tip, it appears that he is full of surprises.

“You are beautiful,” He declares softly, taking his time to gaze upon her own form, and she feels her skin grow heated at his compliment.

As he moves his body to cover hers, his mouth travels a path from her neck to her chest, leaving a trail of wet, opened mouthed caresses. He suckles on the hardened peaks of her breasts and she arches against him, a soft moan escaping her at the jolt of arousal that rushes through her.

She halts Osferth’s movements when he attempts to move lower, the ache between her thighs is unbearable and she is certain she needs no further preparation. “Please,” She whispers. “I want you.”

He inhales sharply at this, pupils blown wide with lust and hovers over her as she spreads her legs further to accommodate him. The gentle stretch as he pushes slowly inside is exquisite torture and causes her to gasp.

He pauses for a moment, softly stroking her hair. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, it feels good,” She reassures him. “Please don’t stop.”

He kisses her deeply as he bottoms out, allowing her a moment to adjust before he begins to rock his hips. His strokes are sure and even, and she finds herself wondering if this is practiced or purely instinctual. She had expected Osferth to be clumsy and inexperienced, yet every thrust of his hips finds a spot inside her that leaves her crying out as her toes curl involuntarily.

“I have wanted you for so long,” He whispers into her ear, as his hips snap against hers with more urgency. “You feel better than I have ever dreamed.”

She feels her eyes grow misty with emotion at this, the combination of his soft confessions and the pleasure she is experiencing becoming too much, until the tightly wound coil within her lower belly finally snaps, and she falls apart, clenching ceaselessly around him, as her cries of ecstasy are offered up to the stars above them.

Osferth shudders, pulling out of her with a strangled groan, stroking frantically at himself as he paints her upper thighs with his spend before collapsing beside her.

As the euphoria begins to wear off, she becomes aware of the tickle of the damp grass against her back, the coolness that licks against her sweaty skin.

He gently tugs her to his chest and she goes willingly, draping herself across him, listening to the rapid thud of his heartbeat.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

“Just fine, Baby Monk.”

“Could you…could you just call me Osferth? Simply Osferth.” He asks gently.

She lifts her head from his chest, raising a questioning eyebrow at him and he smiles fondly down at her.

“It seems more fitting for you to call me by name if you’re to be my woman.”

“Your woman?” She feels her stomach flutter.

“Yes, my woman,” He gives her a squeeze. “If that’s agreeable to you.”

She squeezes him back. Nothing has ever sounded better.

#osferth #osferth x reader #osferth smut #the last kingdom #TLK #osferth fan fiction #osferth fanfiction #osferth fan fic #osferth fanfic #the last kingdom fan fiction #the last kingdom fanfiction #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fan fic #ewan mitchell

[jokeringcutio]

Art the Clown x Reader Drabble "Giving Birth to Art's Baby" [ EXPLICIT, Gore]

AN: Nobody asked for this. Summary: If Reader had Art’s baby. (or: You realize you're fucked, birthing a demon's child, but get a bright idea while doing so)

Warnings: Explicit content (Blood/Murder/Birth), Demon!Art, Demon!kid, Cannibalism/Placenta eating. Mentioned Forced Impregnation. Reader gives birth. Reader tries to survive. Reader lives by the end of this chapter. You have Art’s look-a-like baby (not just his head. An actual kid).

The sterile whiteness of the hospital room blurred into a canvas of dread as they told you to push. "You can do this," the nurse said, her voice a harsh command against the silence of your unborn child's heart—a silence that had been haunting you since labor began. The monitors sang no lullaby of life; instead, they hummed a dirge for the creature stirring inside, the one you knew bore no resemblance to a human babe.

"Push!" she insisted, but something primal within you recoiled. Your mind reeled, images of the ultrasounds flickering like a horror show behind your eyes—those glimpses of something otherworldly, something that twisted the midwives' faces into masks of confusion and fear. You felt it squirming, an alien presence in the sanctuary of your womb. Its head, too large, its limbs, too sharp—you remembered the cold gel on your belly and the screen showing a chest empty of a beating heart and a skull with teeth that no other baby ever had.

The images had filled you with nightmares.

"Push, damn it!"

With each word from her lips, you were torn further between the instinct to expel the abomination and the unnatural maternal pull towards the thing you carried. It looked slightly human, yes, but there was no pulse, no thrumming of life—just the void where a heartbeat should echo.

"Push, or we'll lose you both!"

Your muscles clenched, a symphony of pain rippling through you as you fought to obey, to be rid of the living death inside. You tried to calm the tempest in your chest, telling yourself over and over, "I can do this."

Then he invaded your thoughts—Art, the demon, the clown in black and white, a mockery of joy and laughter. His teeth, those sharp instruments of terror, flashed in your memory, evoking the night of unspeakable horror when he had claimed you. Should you have fought him harder? Should you have shouted or cried? His touch was a brand, his seed the poison that grew into the monstrosity within.

You had recognized the shape of the baby’s skull the instant the ultrasound had shown it. His teeth. His head. His heartless frame.

Mass murderer and psycho on the run. A clown who never spoke and was never caught. A criminal the police claimed to have killed time after time again, yet he kept returning. You weren’t stupid. You knew he was no ordinary man, had seen and felt him up close, had lived through carrying his offspring and felt its tiny hands like claws inside your womb.

"Push! I see the head!"

Your scream tore through the air, a battle cry against the violation that had led to this moment. With a guttural cry, you bore down, every fiber of your being straining to bring forth the offspring of darkness. The nurses leaned in, their faces etched with morbid curiosity and professional detachment.

"More! Now!"

And you did. You pushed past the fear, the revulsion, and the anguish. You pushed because surrender was not an option. The child of Art, the silent clown with the soulless bright eyes surrounded by circles of dark, was coming, and you would face it, even as it threatened to tear you apart.

"Head's out!"

The words cut through the fog of your agony, and for a brief, impossible moment, hope flickered. But it was a fool's hope, born of pain and desperation. For what lay between your thighs was neither dead nor alive, neither human nor wholly other. It was the unholy union of your flesh and Art's demonic whimsy, born into a world that would never understand its existence.

"Keep going, you're almost there!"

That nurse's voice, so insistent, so devoid of the horrors that awaited, spurred you on. And you pushed again, into the unknown, into the nightmare made flesh.

The sterile chill of the delivery room clawed at your senses, but nothing could compare to the icy grip of fear that seized your heart. The nurse's declaration was a death knell, ringing hollow in your ears.

"Oh no, look at that color,” she breathed out, her words a ghost lingering in the air. The child’s head was as white as the sheets you were birthing on.

Your gaze fixed on the writhing mass that now slipped free from your body, its skin as white as untouched snow, not a shade of life to be found. Terror danced in the nurse's eyes as she caught the creature you had birthed, fully convinced to hold a stillborn child.

But then it turned its head towards her, lips pulled back in a macabre grin, black and white painted across its face like a twisted replica of Art's mime visage.

It was as you had feared it would be. Any hope you had held that your baby might come out all rosy and normal faded like ice under the sun.

"God!" The nurse recoiled, hurling your offspring onto the bed as if it were a viper.

"Easy! Easy!" You cried out. This was your child, your blood. And there was the little voice inside your head that whispered that Art wouldn’t die. No matter how many shots had been fired at him. No matter how many limbs had been cut off. The man still walked the earth, spreading death in silent joy wherever he went.

What if your child was the same? Already its heart wasn’t beating yet it seemed very much alive. Would throwing it away like its life meant nothing be the solution?

Adrenaline fueled your limbs, and with a grunt, you crawled toward the tiny form cast aside on the cold hospital linen. No. This was your baby too. No matter how evil, you would nurse it.

"Shh, shh," you soothed, half-mad with pain and wonder as your arms closed around the little body. Your hands trembled, cradling him close, the resemblance uncanny—Art's spawn, his legacy. Something soft dangled between the baby’s legs.

"Boy..." you whispered, the realization dawning upon you as you held him against your breast. The baby’s head instinctively sought for your nipple, his already long-grown teeth snapping as he sought.

The sight of his head filled you with terror, and you felt slightly sick to see the baby’s lack of lips and already blackened teeth. Bright eyes stared up at you, black circles around him. The first touch of his mouth to your skin was tentative, searching, before a sharp pain made you hiss. "No biting!"

He seemed to understand or perhaps heeded the command instilled in his dark lineage. You were grateful he started to suck next and didn’t bite your entire nipple off. You wouldn’t put it past him – not with what you had seen his father do and what you had read and heard in the news articles about him.

There amidst the blood and the shadows, you were bound to this child, this extension of a demon's desire, by cords thicker than fear, stronger than revulsion. In the silence that hung heavy, only your harsh breaths and the soft, wet suckling sounds filled the void.

Your arms ached, but you clung to him—the fruit of your womb and a monster's seed. The room spun slightly, the stark white tiles of the hospital room blurring as you focused on the tiny creature at your breast. His lips, so unlike a human’s and too far pulled back, painted in an unseen artist's black and white, suckled with an instinctual hunger.

"Sweetheart,” you tested the word, reassuring yourself that you could do this. That you had to use affectionate terms around him especially because he was the way he was.

A new plan formed in your mind.

If you could bring such true evil to the world, could you perhaps dampen it? You were pretty certain you could not undo it. You could not change a devil into an angel. But if you could not turn evil into good, could you perhaps guide it? Guide it away from harming innocents?

"You're mine," you murmured, studying the little baby in your arms. If not for the head, the child would have looked rather normal.

“My son,” you proudly said, testing the words whilst the nurses and doctors around you stood and watched. You heard their muttering and were vaguely aware of how one of the nurses had pushed an emergency button and alerted someone else in the building about what was going on.

Would they come and take your baby away from you? Would they want to try and murder him?

A fierce protectiveness was swelling within you. “I’ll protect you, sweetheart,” you reaffirmed, determination lacing the single word. “You are my son.”

Some of the nurses took a step back from the bloodied bed, their eyes still wide with disbelief. Behind them, the door burst open with a violence that made every eye swing toward it.

Art stood there, his silhouette like a twisted shadow from a child's nightmare. The nurse at the entrance reached for him. “Sir,” she said, eyes upon the garbage gab he carried over his shoulder. “These are sterile surroundings.” Her concern was cut short by the gleam of steel—a deft flick of Art's wrist—and she crumpled, a scream caught in her throat, blood blossoming on her uniform like a grotesque flower.

The doctor next to her cried out when a blade hit his legs, slashing through the clean white fabric until his shins bled. Another nurse to his side crumpled when Art passed her by, pushed over with blood on her pristine white clothes.

"Stop!" Your voice was a command, even as you recoiled. "Don't."

Art’s head cocked, you could tell he had heard your voice, but he didn’t listen. Whatever knife he had brought with him was launched to land in the middle of a nurse’s forehead, pinching her to the wall. He smiled broadly while he stepped up to the doctor’s tools to get a scalpel from them, obviously pleased with all the sharp things that were within his reach. He threatened to step forth to the Doctor who had already wounded legs and who had fallen to the floor. The man looked up at the demonic clown fearfully, tears in his eyes as Art raised the scalpel.

“Art, please,” you begged, “Don’t hurt them.”

It wasn’t your pleading that stopped him. But something else entirely. A low groan as finally, the afterbirth followed - a final, visceral release that marked the end of your gruesome trial.

His head cocked, the mime's unnerving silence punctuating the chaos he had wrought. He approached, eyes fixed on the bundle in your arms. Between your legs, the heap of blood and tissue drained the sheets. The baby’s umbilical cord was still attached to the placenta that had finally come out.

Art studied it. First, the writhing baby in your arms. He looked at it like he had never seen a newborn child before. He probably hadn’t, you thought. At least, not one of his own. The wonder was visible in those bright light eyes of his. The demonic toothy smile had turned into a black hole of wonder.

Then, the brightly shining eyes traced the umbilical cord and came to rest on the placenta. Something in his eyes changed, and he looked up at you, almost hungrily. His gaze softened then at the sight of his son again, and dirt-covered fingers reached out a few times, indicating he wanted to hold him but was too shy to grab the babe.

Your son’s eyes opened, recognizing his father. But he wouldn’t leave his meal. The teeth nibbled on your nipple while milk kept flowing richly, then bit down a little harder when you moved your arm – an indication that he did not want to be moved.

With a spidery grace, Art extended a hand, his fingers stretching toward his progeny. You tightened your grasp, feeling the peculiar warmth of your son against your flesh.

"Art," you began, voice quivering with a cocktail of fear and resolve. "He's feeding." You met those abyssal eyes, searching for understanding. "We need them alive—the nurses, the doctors. We might need their help..." Whatever could you say to keep him from killing these people? You raked your mind, thought desperately. And then it came out. Unbidden. "For next time."

A pause, and then a different kind of hunger flashed across his face. Another offspring? The idea hadn't crossed his twisted mind until you seeded it there. The possibility of creating more beings like this one, beings that belonged to both of you—it ignited something within him.

"Next time," you whispered, coaxing.

Art's attention shifted, drawn away by the glistening afterbirth on the bed. A grotesque curiosity morphed into action as he reached down, snatching it up with an eager hand. He snapped the umbilical cord with his teeth, igniting gasps throughout the room of the nurses and the doctor – all either petrified or too wounded to leave. You gave them all an empathic stare, a silent ‘I’m sorry’ while you watched as Art descended on his own meal.

The room filled with the sound of his silent feasting, a tableau of horror that paralyzed the surviving staff. They could only watch, too terrified to move, too horrified to look away.

"Good," you breathed, holding your son closer. "Focus on that. Let us be."

Surrounded by trembling bodies and the scent of iron and fear, you rocked gently, whispering promises into the velvet softness atop your son's head, promises of a world where he would never be alone—where he'd have a sibling to share the darkness with. And more importantly, a mother who would guide evil in ways that would save those she cared about. Herself included. ~ AN: This could be a full story, but I was lazy and only wrote the birthing scene. Might upload other parts that can go along with this as I have an outline. If you like my (gross) writing (style), consider following me or browse my masterlists (psst, there's more).

~~ Support me on Ko-Fi - Masterlist - Request Box ~~ The Full Tale: Art saw the pale girl, another of his kind, and realized that he wanted to be less lonely. Someone of his own kind, now that sounded nice. A kid of his own to play patty cake with? So he started looking for a potential carrier for his kid. You were cute, didn't run as hard, didn't make a sound when he tried to harm you. A quiet little human, about the size of the clown kid he had seen. You were perfect. Instead of killing you, he made sure you got pregnant. During the pregnancy, you kept seeing traces of him, found little gifts from the stranger who featured in your nightmares ever since.

You weren't stupid. You found out quite quickly that your clown is in fact the much sought-after murderer who comits the most horrible crimes under the name of Art. You have seen what he is capable of and dive into the archives researching him and his crimes. He seems to survive everything.

When the ultrasounds show you a distorted baby with no heartbeat, you know that you carry true evil inside of you. But getting rid of it is no option, as you can't kill what already seems to be dead. With no other fate, you have no option but to birth the monster's child. How you will handle things after, however, that is something you can influence. You will do anything in your power to survive. ~~

#art the clown x reader #art x reader #terrifier baby #terrifier fanfic #birthing horror fanfic

[imagines-all-day-everyday]

second heir

pairing: harwin strong x targaryen!oc

synposis: tensions in the targaryen family rise when viserra targaryen, the youngest child of queen aemma and king viserys, gives birth to her second son with ser harwin strong. ser criston cole learns that picking on harwin strong's son is not the smartest decision.

warnings: graphic depiction of childbirth, swearing, violence, slight angst, fluff, ser cri*t*n c*le

notes: I usually do a reader insert but thought it would make more sense to use a targaryen-esque name - enjoy!

"Push Princess. Just one more."

A whimper escaped her lips. Her body felt like it was on fire. Or dipped in acid. Or both. In that moment, Viserra Targaryen was convinced there was no greater suffering on earth than that of childbirth.

"Push!"

"I'm fucking trying." Viserra seethed through clenched teeth as she pushed with all her might.

"Come on my love." The deep voice of her husband murmured in her ear as he knelt beside her. "Take my hand."

Viserra let out a groan of pain as she pushed once more, her hand clasping around her husband's as she squeezed with all her might.

"Why did you have to get me pregnant you fucking cunt, I swear I'm going to-" Her rant was cut off as she let out another scream of pain as the midwife behind her held open her legs.

"I think one more push will do it princess, I see the head!" The midwife announced from below her.

"Yes darling, tell me how much of a cunt I am come on." A gloved hand caressed her face, drawing her attention away from the midwife between her thighs. Her eyes locked with the deep brown ones of her husband.

"I love you, you stupid cunt- ah!" If he was not so strong she most likely would have pulverised the bones in his hand.

A breathy chuckle escaped Harwin Strong's lips as he squeezed her hand back.

"I am a cunt, a cunt that loves you very much." With that she clenched her eyes shut as she gave one last push.

She let out a moan of relief as the pain subsided, air filling up her lungs once more as the midwives gushed in praise.

"It's ok my love, it is over." Harwin murmured, kissing her damp hair as he held her closely.

"You are so strong, a brave mother." Viserra let out a silent sob as she clung to her husband, letting him pepper her face with kisses and praises as she fell limp in his arms.

"It is a boy, princess."

Viserra finally opened her eyes as crying filled the cavernous room. She was both crying and laughing with joy as she watched the midwife carefully bundle up her son.

Overwhelming love and warmth filled her as her son was placed into her outstretched arms. Almost as if those last few hours of pain had been erased, like she would do it all again now just to hold him like this.

"Healthy?"

"As healthy as one can be, princess." The midwife confirmed.

Viserra let out another sob as she cradled her son to her chest and placed a kiss to his forehead.

"Hi baby." She whispered to him, watching as he squirmed and flailed in her arms.

"Look how beautiful he is." She murmured, finally passing him to Harwin to hold.

"Well no wonder, look at his mother." Harwin smiled softly as he gently took his son in his arms. "I told you I knew it would be another boy."

Viserra felt her heart warm when she saw the tears rolling down her husband's cheeks as he spoke.

"He is perfect." She remarked, her eyes never leaving her son, completely entranced in the new life she and Harwin had just created.

"That he is." Harwin murmured as he carefully handed him back to Viserra.

"Princess." The sound of an unfamiliar voice made Viserra finally tear away her eyes from her son.

She felt a sense of dread course through her at the sight of the nervous handmaiden. She knew that could mean only one thing.

"The Queen has requested the child be brought to her. Immediately."

"Now? For what purpose?" Harwin's voice was demanding as he rose to his feet, a complete shift in his demeanour from only moments ago.

"I-I-" The handmaiden began to flounder, her eyes wide and fearful as she glanced between the commander and the princess.

"-it is fine." Viserra saved the handmaiden from her unpredictable fate.

"I will take him myself."

"You will do no such thing." Harwin snapped as Viserra began to push herself off the mattress. "You must rest."

"Your husband is right princess, you must stay in bed." One of the midwives agreed.

They were right, of course. Viserra wanted nothing more than to lay in bed with her husband and new son. But Queen Alicent Hightower had already ruined that perfect moment by sending her handmaiden in here. Just the mention of her name was poisonous enough to sour everything it touched.

The least Viserra could do now was ensure that she drip fed the Queen her own sweetly crafted poison while she met her grandson.

"Remove the cord and make sure the afterbirth has arrived. Then help me dress. Husband, you hold him."

Harwin eyed his wife for a few moments before nodding as he took his son once more. He knew his wife well enough to know that once she made her mind up, there was no changing it. Best to stand aside and let her run her course.

"It is done princess." One of the midwives announced after a few minutes.

Viserra gritted her teeth and wrapped a hand around one of the bedposts. She ground her teeth in an attempt to extinguish the grunt of pain she let out as she pulled herself off the bed and onto her feet.

"This is ridiculous." Harwin spat, his heart aching as he watched helplessly as his wife winced as the handmaidens cinched her dress around her waist.

"What could possibly be so urgent that she needs to see our son right away."

"I am sure the Queen has her very rationale reasons." Viserra drawled as the handmaidens stepped away from her.

"Let us just get this over with." She huffed as they opened the doors from their chambers.

"Run a bath for the princess for when she returns." Harwin murmured to one of the servants quietly so Viserra did not hear.

"Sister!" The sound of Rhaenyra's voice filled her ears the second they stepped into their main living quarters.

"A healthy boy, I heard." Viserra felt a smile form on her lips at the sight of her sister bounding towards her.

"Oh he is beautiful sister, congratulations." A rare true smile appeared on Rhaenyra's face as she stared down at her nephew.

"Thank you sister."

The smile was quick to fall from Rhaenyra's features when she noticed Harwin's grim features and the way her sister's smile did not meet her eyes.

Her brow narrowed when she watched her brother in law and sister begin to make their way towards the threshold of their quarters.

"What is wrong? Where are you going?"

"The Queen has requested to see him. Immediately." Harwin answered as they stepped into the hallway.

"She what?" Rhaenyra could hardly believe her ears as she walked alongside them.

"I know she did it with Joffrey but I never thought- she has gone too far. I cannot sit by and-"

"- you can and you will sister." Viserra cut her off, breathing deeply as pain rumbled through her.

"We will go and show her the child, let her feel powerful for a few moments. It might do her some good." Their voices were low as they made their way through the hallway. At a very slow pace at that given Viserra's state.

"I am coming with you."

"No." Viserra's voice was firm as she came to a stop to grab her sister's arm. "She will just find some way to villainize you or to get you to say something she can twist."

Rhaenyra's face morphed into one of sadness as she studied her sister.

"Let her torture us for a while." Viserra insisted.

"We can handle it." Harwin spoke, sending his sister in law a nod.

Rhaneyra glanced between them as she tried to reach a decision. She knew what the rationale one was. That her sister was right. As heir it was more strategic to leave it. But as Viserra's older sister, every part of her was screaming at her to march up those stairs and tear Allicent's hair from her scalp.

The look on Harwin's face was what made her decision for her. The look that said if anything happened to his wife, he would literally murder everything in sight. She knew her sister was safe with him.

"Fine." She relented. "But please try not to strain yourself too much sister." A hand reached up to gently brush Viserra's cheek.

"I will do my best." Viserra forced a small on her lips as she leant into her sister's touch.

With that Harwin and Viserra were on their way once more. Viserra let out a whimper as she clung to his arm. They had only made it a few metres when Harwin came to a stop.

"Alright that is it."

"Harwin what-"

"Hold him." Viserra opened her mouth in surprise as he passed their son into her arms.

"Harwin-" She let out a small yelp of surprise as he bent down and wrapped his hands under her back and legs and lifted her off the ground with ease.

She clung to their son as Harwin cradled her in his arms and began to march with a determined pace towards the Queen's chambers.

"Harwin-" She began for the third time.

"I will put you down before we go inside do not fret. We can let her think you scaled those steps on your own. But I am not letting my wife who just gave birth take another step if it can be avoided." He answered her as he passed by gaping onlookers without so much as a glance in their direction.

Her heart warmed at his words. She felt her anger subdue for a few moments as she studied her husband, with that look of loyal determination on his features. The face that she had fallen in love with as a teenager.

She remembered the day that he had taken up a position as a sworn protector of her family. The first time the pair locked eyes across the hall. The first time they spoke when he caught her trying to sneak out of the castle. The first time they unfurled their secrets to one another. The first time she took his hand and led him into her chambers.

While Rhaenyra was having her tryst with Criston Cole, Viserra was having hers with Harwin Strong.

But unlike her sister, Viserra did not have the weight of being their father's heir on her shoulders. Nor was her father as focused on marrying her off to the most politically strategic husband possible.

So when Viserra walked in one afternoon and informed her father that she was in love with Harwin Strong and was to wed him, what else was he to do but agree? He could never say no to his baby daughter, nor did he want to. He could see how in love she was and all he wished was for her to be happy. Besides, the rumours of their tryst and the ruining of her maidenhood had began to spread through the castle. This would quell those rumours.

It made sense politically too, given Harwin Strong was the son of the hand of the king and the heir to Harrenhal. It was the perfect strategic match for a second born daughter. That was how he had explained it to Alicent when she had questioned it anyway. Of course, that only deepened the queen's jealousy and resentment towards the Targaryen sisters.

Harwin came to a stop in front of the Queen's chambers. Viserra brought a hand up to caress his cheek.

"I love you husband."

"As I love you, wife." He answered, pressing a kiss to her palm as he gently placed her down on the ground. He captured her lips in a kiss. The usually frowned upon public display of affection caused the guards stationed at the door to divert their eyes.

"Give her hell." He whispered into her ear as the doors opened.

That she would.

Their son squirmed in her arms as they made their way inside. Neither spared Ser Criston Cole a glance as they passed him. Alicent was standing at the window, her back to them, her gaze fixed over the sea.

Viserra fought the urge to double over in pain as her insides burned. Her body was slick with sweat. Practically dripping from head to toe. Her blonde hair plastered to her face and back.

It was a comfort to her to know that even when she looked like this, Alicent's beauty would still never compare. A small comfort, perhaps a petulant one. But a comfort nonetheless.

"Viserra." Alicent's sickly sweet voice rung out through the cavernous room.

"What are you doing here? You should be resting after your labours." Her concern almost sounded sincere.

"I did not wish to disappoint you, your grace." Viserra answered as Harwin ushered her over to the couch.

"Oh yes, please sit." Alicent nodded, her dress swishing at her ankles as she made her way over to them.

She watched with intense eyes as Harwin guided his wife down to sit on the sofa. His gaze was so full of love and concern it almost made Alicent feel ill. Anger rippled through her as he placed a tender kiss to Viserra's forehead.

Such love, such intimacy. It was something that Alicent would never experience. At least Rhaenyra had to make some small sacrifices in the name of duty as heir. Viserra on the other hand did not even know the meaning.

Being the second born daughter meant the focus had always been off her. That she could run around and do as she pleased with no consequences. Alicent had known of her treacherous affair with the Strong boy, she had even gone to Viserys with the information. Yet nothing was done, she was brushed off once more. And after all that Viserra still got to wed the man that she loved.

"I cannot believe how long it has been since your last son was born. How old is Aemar now?"

"He will be six next month, your grace." Harwin answered her.

"Six." Alicent remarked. "Such a long space in between children."

"It was not for a lack of trying your grace." Viserra answered her as she raised a brow. "Believe me."

Harwin glanced down at his feet to hide his smirk as Alicent's mouth drew into a sharp line.

"Yes well, better late than never I suppose." She cleared her throat as she approached them.

"Let me meet him properly." It was a demand, not a question. Her arms extended expectantly. Viserra bit her tongue as she reluctantly handed the queen the small bundle in her arms.

"He was two weeks early I understand? Like his brother?"

"Ten days early, your grace."

Alicent let out a hum as she examined the child in her arms intently. "Do the maesters think it will impact him the way it has Aemar?"

Viserra could feel the fire beginning to build up inside her.

"I am not sure I understand, your grace." Harwin spoke for her, noting the way his wife's fists had curled up the material of the sofa.

"Well the boy is quite small for his age."

Criston Cole smirked in the corner.

"The maesters have assured us they are both strong and healthy. They do have Targaryen blood after all." Viserra answered, using every ounce of her strength to keep her voice calm.

"Unless you are questioning the quality of Targaryen blood, your grace. Which I am sure was not your intention."

Alicent looked up from the child, her eyes locking with Viserra's.

"Of course not. I suppose it would have to be the integrity of your husband's blood that caused such defects."

Silence fell over the room. It had been such an off handed remark. Said so casually and plainly for how great of an insult the words wielded.

Harwin and Viserra were no fools. They were aware of the Queen's suspicions around the lineage of Rhaenyra's three children. The rumours that they had been fathered by one of the knights in the city watch. They were true, of course. It was plain as day. The three boys had dark brown hair and pale skin. But nothing would extract that confession from Viserra.

It was only logical for Alicent to start questioning the lineage of Viserra's children too. If one sister was capable of adultry, why not the other? It did not help that Aemar had been born small and lean, particular in comparison to his father. But the maesters had assured Harwin and Viserra that he was merely a late bloomer, that he would grow into his build.

As Viserra stared at Alicent, she wondered how she had ever felt sympathy for her. Much less been her friend. She used to follow Rhaenyra and Alicent around wherever they went when she was a child. Hanging onto their every word like it was gospel.

Even after her father had announced his intention to wed Alicent, Viserra had still tried to be friends. She had seen how Otto Hightower had manoeuvred his daughter like a chess piece for his own gain. And she had felt sorry for her as she watched her churn out child after child, trapped in a loveless marriage.

But the moment she had started going after Rhaenyra, all hope was lost. And as the three women grew, Alicent's bitterness towards Rhaenyra spread to Viserra, entangling her up in her web of venom and lies and hatred.

There was no repairing the bond that had been broken.

"What did you say?" Harwin's voice was low, his eyes bright with rage.

He took a step towards her. The sound of Criston Cole's blade being unsheathed rang out behind them.

"Husband, relax." Viserra brought a hand up to grip his forearm.

She turned around in her seat and glared at Criston. "And sheath your blade Ser Criston, there is no need for such theatrics." She resisted the urge to smile at the sight of his glowering stare.

"The Queen did not mean any harm by her words." Her voice was scarily light and calm. She forced a chuckle up her throat and past her lips. Her face was the perfect portrait of calm.

She thought she might tear the Queen's head clean off her shoulders when she noticed Alicent's grip on her son tighten.

"You know that she is often left alone by father, sometimes he forgets to pass on things. Like what the maester's have told him about the health of his grandchildren."

Viserra could feel Harwin relax under her touch as she shot Alicent a smile.

"Right, your grace?"

If looks could kill, Viserra would be shredded into ribbons right now.

"Of course. I meant no offence." Alicent managed to force out, causing Viserra's grin to widen.

Viserra knew she should leave it at that. To not poke the beast. But Alicent's insult had ignited the flame within her. And once that flame was alight, it could not easily be extinguished.

"You know, you must get your boys to come meet their new nephew, your grace. Especially Aegon." Viserra spoke casually as Alicent handed her son back to her.

"Must I?"

"Oh yes. I mean with me as second heir and the birth of our son that would put Aegon now at... seventh in line?" Viserra feigned confusion as she glanced up at Harwin.

Harwin knew the nature of the game instantly.

"Eighth, my love. Counting our little nephew." Harwin responded, a smirk on his lips as he glared at the queen.

"Oh yes eighth of course, I almost forgot to count little Prince Joffrey. My mistake." Viserra chuckled.

"I know Aegon is not so... passionate about ruling as you or your father are, so I am sure that the knowledge he is now eighth in line would be most relieving for him to hear."

Viserra was not sure if she had ever seen Alicent so unhinged. Her bottom lip trembled and her face twitched as she stared at her step-daughter. Usually the perfect face of righteousness and dignity. The ever composed queen. She looked as if she might just step forward and scratch Viserra's eyes out.

"You dare-"

"What happy news this morning!"

Viserra felt her heart warm at the sight of her father making his way through the double doors. Viserys' eyes lit up at the sight of his daughter and his newest grandson.

"It appears your hunch was right Harwin, a healthy boy I have heard."

"Indeed your grace." Harwin smiled as Viserra extended out the bundle of cloth for him to take.

"Let me see my handsome grandson."

Alicent glared as she watched her husband take the child in his arms. He had never even looked that happy when holding their own children.

"Oh he is beautiful. He will make a strong knight I am sure." Viserys beamed as he rocked the babe gently.

"Has my grandson got a name yet?"

"We were thinking Edmyn." Viserra answered when Harwin glanced down at her questioningly.

A grin spread across his lips at the name. It was a traditional House Strong name. One that Viserra knew Harwin had been secretly dying for.

"Edmyn? That is an unusual Valyrian name." Alicent chimed in. Viserra had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

"Because it is not one. Aemar has a Valyrian name, I think it only fitting we also pay homage to the Strongs."

"I could not agree more daughter. Edmyn suits him. I am sure your father will be proud of it Harwin."

"Indeed he will your grace."

This time it was Alicent's turn to not roll her eyes.

"You know, I think I can see a bit of his grandmother in him." Viserys remarked, his voice cracking ever so slightly. Viserra could feel tears threatening to pool in her own eyes at the mention of her mother.

Harwin cleared his throat when he noticed his wife's state.

"If it is ok with you, your grace, your daughter has been more braver than I could ever be, I think she deserves to rest."

"Oh of course." Viserys smiled as he glanced down at his daughter. "I know how draining your labours can be."

"Thank you father." Viserra grimaced as Harwin helped her back up onto her feet.

"We are hoping to bare you a granddaughter next." She continued as she studied Alicent. "And we have already picked out the name."

She was more than happy to twist the knife in further.

"Aemma."

This time Alicent could not fight the eye roll at Viserra's words, turning her back as she did so.

A tear rolled down Viserys' cheek as he brought his hand up to caress his daughter's cheek.

"We can only hope the gods may be so kind." Viserys smiled as he embraced her in a tight hug.

"Now go rest with your husband and new child."

Viserra winced as she slipped into the hot tub. She withheld a moan as the warm water surrounded her, melting into her skin and bones.

"I am sorry if I bled on you."

Harwin let out a small chuckle and shook his head as he knelt down beside the tub.

"I have seen the worst that mankind has to offer, the type of violence that no one should see. You really think a little bit of blood is going to offend me?" He mused as he brought a damp cloth up to her forehead.

His gaze softened when she did not reply, watching as her eyes fluttered closed.

"You should not have had to go through that today." He murmured as he tenderly cleaned her.

"No." She conceded. "I should not have."

"You would not have to if we left King's Landing. If we travelled to Harrenhal and lived with my family."

"You know I cannot leave Rhaenyra. Not with these spiders circling her ever tighter. She is surrounded. I am all she has." Harwin withheld a sigh at her words.

They were expected, but disappointing none the less.

"I know."

No more was said as Harwin bathed her and helped her dress. He picked her up and carried her to their bed, placing her gently on the satin sheets.

She was asleep before her head hit the pillow. Harwin smiled softly as he watched her sleep, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Viserra stirred but did not wake at the sound of a soft knock on the door. Harwin spared her one last glance before he crept to the door. He was greeted by Rhaenyra Targaryen on the other side.

"Is Viserra asleep?"

"She has had a long day." He answered quietly.

Rhaenyra merely nodded in understanding, her face tight with worry as she glanced over Harwin's shoulder.

"She will tell you all tomorrow, I am sure." He assured the princess.

"Was it bad?"

"Quite. Alicent grows more venomous each day." Harwin answered.

"I thought Viserra would be spared given she is not first heir."

"It appears that her resentment has spread to encompass your sister too, princess." Harwin could not hide the anger in his voice as he spoke. He hated feeling so helpless, like there was nothing he could do to protect his wife.

"You should leave, you do not have to stay here. Both of you and the boys should go to Harrenhal. Be spared from this torture." Rhaenyra whispered, desperation evident in her voice.

"You and I both know that Viserra will never leave you alone here."

Rhaenyra sighed and nodded in agreement. "I wish I had not taught her to be so stubborn."

A sad smile spread across Harwin's lips.

"As do I."

Harwin squinted as the sunlight hit his eyes. He stepped out into the training courtyard. The sound of wooden swords hitting sacks filled with barley filled his ears. The grunts of young boys exerting themselves as they practiced.

He glanced up to see Viserys watching from above. He gave him a nod and a smile in greeting. His eyes scanned the yard, counting four of his nephews. He was quick to spot his son. The smallest of the five children. And the only one skulking about in the corner.

A smile spread across his lips as he watched the way Aemar's eyes brightened at the sight of him. Aemar dropped his sword without a second thought and raced towards him, weaving between the other boys to reach him.

Harwin let out a small chuckle as Aemar smashed into his leg, wrapping his thin limbs around his thigh to cling to him.

"Is it supper time father? Is training over?" His son asked as he peered up at him through his thick head of dark hair.

"Not quite yet. I just came to see how you were getting along."

"Oh." Aemar's smile was quick to fall. He watched as his father crouched down to meet his eyes.

"Maybe I can finish training early today? Could you ask mother?"

"Your mother is sleeping with your brother. She is quite tired."

"Oh no do not disturb her then, mother deserves as much rest as she can have." Aemar's brow knitted together as concern flashed across his features.

Harwin smiled softly as he ran a hand through his son's hair. He had always been so considerate and kind of others. Something that worried Harwin slightly. That kind of compassion was a weakness here.

"How has your training been going?" Harwin's eyes drifted over to Criston to see Criston's gaze already locked onto his.

Aemar glanced down at his feet. "Fine."

A lie.

Harwin could see Criston speaking to Alicent's boys, Rhaenyra's children left to practice on their own. He had a feeling his son was being given the same treatment.

"Go on then, I will watch you train and then we can go get something to eat." Harwin shot his son a warm smile and patted him on the shoulder.

Aemar, never one to disappoint his parents, dutifully nodded before scurrying back to the centre of the yard.

Harwin rose to his full height and paced around the edge of the square. He could feel Criston's eyes on him as he walked but chose to ignore it as he watched the boys begin to spar.

Criston and Harwin were similar, some would say. Both knights, protectors of the royal family. Both had fallen in love with a Targaryen princess. Both had disgraced their sacred vows to bed them.

The difference between Criston and Harwin was that Harwin's infatuation was not one sided. A difference that both were acutely aware of.

Harwin had always found Criston's jealousy quite pathetic. And initially quite humorous. That was until Ser Criston had started taking out his anger on Viserra and Rhaenyra's children.

"Come on Aemar, weapons up." He encouraged when he saw his son hesitantly go to pick up his sword.

His small fingers had nearly reached the hilt when Criston's boot stepped on it, crushing it as he brushed past Aemar to speak to Aegon.

"It seems some of your younger pupils could do with a bit more attention, Ser Criston." Harwin could not control his tongue any longer. If he did not say something, it would be his fists that would talk instead.

"You question my method of instruction?" Criston answered him.

"No, I merely suggest that method be applied to all your pupils."

"With all due respect Ser, I doubt you can have an impartial stance on the matter."

Harwin barked out a humourless laugh as he locked eyes with him. "Humour me."

Criston eyed him for a few moments before an unreadable expression crossed his features.

"Very well. Aemar, you spar with Aegon."

Harwin gritted his teeth as he watched Criston grip his son's armour and yank him into the centre of the field.

"That is hardly a fair match."

Indeed, Aegon was at least twice his son's size and weight and even in age. Aegon, being the spoilt cunt that he was, seemed delighted at the opportunity to crush a weaker opponent.

"When steal is drawn a fair match isn't something anyone should expect."

Harwin glanced up at the viewing balcony at the king and his father. Neither seemed willing to say a word.

"Blades up." Criston continued.

Harwin could see Aemar was shaking, even from where he was standing. His son was not a fighter, at least not yet. He was small and skinny and his temperament was the most gentle he had seen. He may grow into one yet, but Harwin was certain that this type of combat would not help him get there.

Aemar glanced at his father, his eyes pleading as he shakily rose his sword up in front of his chest.

"Engage."

Aegon let out an unhinged scream as he hurtled himself at Aemar. Harwin was too far away to stop him from hitting Aemar across the face and pushing him down. Harwin reached him as Aegon raised his sword to bring it down onto Aemar's chest.

Harwin lunged forward and grabbed the older prince by the scruff of the neck. Aegon let out a scream of frustration, thrashing around against Harwin as he tried to attack his younger nephew.

"Aegon!" The King finally let out a weak reprimand from above.

Harwin simply shoved him away, sending him stumbling into Ser Criston.

Rhaenyra's children ran to crowd around Aemar who was still on his back. They were murmuring comforting and encouraging things to him as Harwin reached them.

"Son, are you all right?" Harwin crouched down, his heart hammering in his chest as he brought his son up to sit.

The wood had drawn blood, a small slice across Aemar's smooth cheek. It was still enough to make Harwin see red.

"I am ok father." Aemar's small voice wavered, his chin wobbling as he tried to keep a brave face.

"I am confused Ser Harwin. You wish for me to treat your son equally and yet intervene within mere seconds."

Harwin's jaw clenched at the sound of Criston's mocking voice behind him. Harwin rose to his full height, his fists bunched at his sides as he turned to glare at Cole.

"The prince could have been seriously hurt. That match up was not safe."

Criston let out a small chuckle as Harwin turned around once more to pay attention to his son. He needed to quell his anger before he could no longer contain it and did something regrettable.

"I am sorry you feel that match was not fair, Strong." Cole spoke as he eyed Harwin.

"But I am afraid due to your son's.... stature... none of his nephew's would be a fair match." Harwin glanced down at his son who's head hung in shame at Ser Criston's words.

He could hear Aegon and Aemond sniggering behind him.

"Perhaps I could ask one of the handmaiden's to volunteer. Or your new son. They are probably equal in strength."

The snap of broken bone hung in the air.

Criston stumbled back as blood began to leak from his nose. Harwin let out an animalistic growl as he knocked him to his feet and launched himself on top of him. He landed punch after punch, screaming as he let out his rage.

"Say it again! Speak that way about my son again!" He shouted as arms wrapped around him and forced him off the knight.

Criston's body was limp, his head lolling back as blood poured from his nose.

"You talk about him like that again and I will fucking kill you, do you hear me!" He bellowed as other knights dragged him away.

Viserys and Lionel watched from above, their faces grim as they watched the scene unfold.

"So much for that pleasant afternoon." Viserys sighed.

"I heard it took four knights to pull you off him."

Harwin winced as Viserra pressed an ointment into his blistering knuckles.

"I was a bit too preoccupied to count."

Amusement flashed across her features as she rubbed the ointment in gently.

"I wish I was there to witness it, would have got me all hot and bothered."

Harwin shook his head, trying to fight the smile on his face as he glanced up at his wife.

"What? It taking four knights pulling me off him, or watching Ser Criston being beat into a pulp."

"Can a woman not find both equally arousing?" She teased him as she placed the ointment on the table beside the bed.

She withheld a sigh when she watched the smile seep from his face. His eyes glazing over as he thought about today's events. She leant forward and captured his lips in a gentle kiss.

"You did nothing wrong, my love." She mumbled against his lips as she pressed their foreheads together. "

Cole should not have dared insult a prince like that. All the boys heard him say it, he has no way to talk himself out of it. He will be punished. I will see to it that you are not. You were just protecting your son." Viserra's voice was thick with emotion as she spoke, anger furling up inside her at the memory of her husband relaying the words that Cole had said to their son.

She could not think about it for to long. Or think about the small cut on Aemar's cheek that she touched when she kissed him goodnight. It made her sick with rage. Angry enough to burn the entire castle to the ground.

"I still should not have lost my temper. Not in front of Aemar. It sets a bad example." He mumbled as he glanced down at his bruised knuckles.

"It might have frightened him."

Viserra's gaze softened at her husband's words. She ran a hand through his thick hair before using her index finger to tilt his chin up and force him to meet her eyes.

"Aemar adores you. He could never be frightened of you. He knows that you would only act like that if our family was in danger."

Harwin smiled as Viserra leant forward to kiss her husband's forehead.

"I do not know what I would do without you." He mumbled against her skin as he embraced her in a tight hug and buried his head into her chest.

"Nor I you." She whispered to him as she let him cling to her, engulfing her frame as she wrapped her arms around him.

It was in that moment that Viserra's mind wandered back to the conversation they had yesterday when she was taking her bath. About leaving King's Landing. And for the first time, she felt herself seriously considering it.

A knock at the door made both of them pull apart. They exchanged glances before turning their attention to the entrance.

"Enter." Viserra called.

"Rhaenyra." Her sister's name slipped through her lips at the sight of her.

"Sister, Ser Harwin." Rhaenyra inclined her head as they both rose to their feet to greet her.

"What brings you here at such a late hour?" Viserra's brow knitted together as she studied her sister.

"I came to tell you." Rhaenyra swallowed as her eyes darted between them.

"My family and I are leaving. Tomorrow."

Viserra's lips parted in surprise, her eyes darting to Harwin before turning back to her sister.

"To Dragonstone?"

"I should have left years ago." Rhaenyra nodded.

"But what of your position. If that bloodsucking queen has father all to herself-"

"-I have been made a spectacle of sister." Rhaenyra snapped, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "They whisper about me in the corridors. I wish to leave them to it."

Rhaenyra sniffled as she held back her tears, her eyes moving from her sister to Harwin who was studying her warily.

"After the events of yesterday and today, I cannot stay here any longer. You and your family have been tarred with the same brush. I cannot let you be tried and punished for the crimes Alicent believes me to have committed."

"Sister." Viserra breathed out as she stepped forward to take her sister's hands in her own.

"I beg of you, do not do this for my benefit. We are on your side, in your corner. We can batter this storm."

Rhaenyra shook her head and squeezed her sister's hands tightly. "I know sister, I know. But this is a storm that we should flee from." She locked eyes with Harwin's once more.

"And I am not doing this for my benefit, I am doing it for both of our families."

Harwin came to stand beside Viserra as she released her sister's hands, confusion contorting on her features.

"Come with us." Rhaenyra continued as she glanced between the couple.

"We can be a family. Our boys can do as they like, play and train without us having to fear what Criston Cole might do to them."

Viserra dragged her eyes from Rhaenyra up to Harwin's. He was already staring down at her, his face muscles taught. In that moment, it was just the two of them together as they studied eachother.

"Your father-"

"My father does not matter." Harwin cut her off. "Our family is what matters. You know I have always championed us to leave this place."

"I cannot ask you to do this." She whispered, her voice wavering as she spoke.

"I go wherever you go. I would follow you to the end of the earth my love." He murmured back, squeezing her hand tightly.

"It would be nice to give birth and stay in bed for longer than thirty seconds." She murmured after a few moments. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he nodded in agreement.

"Indeed."

For once Rhaenyra was unable to hold back her tears as she watched her baby sister and her husband.

"To Dragonstone then?"

The couple turned to her at her words. "To Dragonstone." Harwin agreed, squeezing his wife's hand once more.

"Maybe you can beat up Cole once more before we go. Just so Viserra and I can have a fond memory of this place to look back on."

A grin spread across Harwin's lips as Viserra chuckled beside him.

"That can be arranged."

I adore this fic and the little family I have created hehehe <3 p.s totally canon that Viserra and Harwin have a girl called Aemma. As always, feedback would be super super appreciated and you can give it back HERE!

#house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon oneshot #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #hotd oneshot #harwin strong imagine #harwin strong #harwin strong x oc #ser harwin strong #harwin strong x reader #harwin x reader #harwin x oc #harwin strong imagines #harwin strong fanfiction #harwin strong oneshot #hotd spoilers #got #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones oneshot #game of thrones fanfiction

[imtryingbuck]

Is Being In Love Always Painful?

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, Bucky x Natasha

Summary: Your in love with Bucky but he marries Nat

Word count: 636 shes a shorty

Warnings: Angst, swearing, Nat being a bad friend? Terrible writing as always

A/N: there will be another two parts

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Loving him was easy. But he wasn’t yours to love, no that was for your best friend. You still loved him with every inch of you. 

Why? Because loving James ‘Bucky’ Barnes was easy.

You met him at school, he was your first friend actually. Starting a new school was terrifying especially when you don’t know anyone there. Ms Donovan paired you up with him so he could show you around, he made sure you ate with him and his friends, made sure no one picked on you. He was easy to be friends with.

He took you to prom when Jimmy Holland bailed on you, and that’s when you knew you was in love with him. His smile made your heart skip way too many beats to be normal, he danced and laughed the whole night with you. Prom was amazing just because of him.

You went to different colleges and even with the distance you still kept in touch, seeing each other twice a month, three times if you were really lucky.

Natasha became your best friend straight away since you both shared a dorm and you were into the same things. Nat knew of your feelings for Bucky so one day she told you to go and tell him, she even paid for the bus tickets. You stood there outside Bucky’s dorm going over your words that you selected carefully for the umpteenth time. You were both surprised, him being that you were there and you being that he had a pretty brunette standing behind him and him introducing her to you as his girlfriend. You left shortly after with some lame excuse that he either believed or simply didn’t care.

You went back to Nat and cried.

With graduation four months away, you finally introduced Nat and Bucky to each other and honestly didn’t think anything of it since Nat knew of your feelings.

A few weeks later Nat walked in to the kitchen as you was making dinner, shuffling back and forth. “Y/N umm I need to ask you something” Her voice was small which was something it never was. Giving her a nod she continued “so um Bucky asked me out on a date and I said yes, I just really like him and since he’s your best friend I wanted to know if that’s oka- shit are you okay?” You sliced your finger with the knife which hurt but not compared to the pain in your heart. But you couldn’t say anything, so you nodded. The night of their date, you cried and after their date you slept with headphones on just so you didn’t have to listen to them having sex.

It’s been three years since graduation and you were in the jewellers with Bucky. To get an engagement ring. He’s going to propose to Nat.

You were there when she squealed with joy, nodding so fast you thought her head was going to come off.

You said yes to being her maid of honour, you did everything for her. Helped plan the perfect wedding for your best friend and the man you were madly in love with.

You stood there watching Bucky cry as he watched Nat walk down the aisle towards him.

You watched as they exchanged vows.

You stood in the corner of the hall and watched them have their first dance as husband and wife.

You did it all with a smile on your face even with your heart breaking. 

Long after the newlyweds and guests left you was still in the hall cleaning up. Steve was supposed to help but you waved him off telling him to enjoy his night with Peggy. All alone in the room you let the tears fall.

Loving Bucky was so easy but also extremely painful.

Next>

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

#bucky barns x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #marvel fanfiction #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #Steve rogers #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #bucky x natasha #bucky yn angst

[foxglovebells]

Lost Star

Azriel x Rhysand!Sister Reader

Summary: Rhys’s mother and sister, Y/n, were kidnapped and murdered by Tamlin’s family centuries ago. Everyone mourned their deaths but especially Azriel. His mate’s death had changed him and he was never truly the same, he still held onto the hope that you were still alive. Turns out he was right.

Warnings: Slight mentions of torture/blood/violence

Notes: This doesn’t follow the plot of Acotar exactly, many small details are also changed. This will be the part 1 of I don’t know how long of a series yet. Ignore any typos 😬 Enjoy:)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

****************************************************

Azriel had seen and experienced a lot of violence in his life. He had felt so much pain and suffering. His wings had been shredded on multiple occasions. He had been held in a dungeon and tortured for days. He had come to deaths door step more times than he can count.

But nothing, nothing, compared to the pain of feeling his mating bond with you break. The pain of his heart collapsing as yours stopped beating. The feeling of his soul shredding and his humanity being ripped away from him. You were his everything, and you been taken from him.

Your death was the first time he had cried in centuries. Azriel and Rhys cried together, for the loss of the person they both loved the most in this world. Your beautiful soul too pure for this corrupt world.

Since that day Azriel has been in denial. He felt the bond break, he felt you die. But somehow he still felt a whisper, a small shadow of the bond still remained. The beautiful golden string gone, but as if it still lingered. Perhaps it was his minds way of coping, of giving him hope that you were still out there.

When he has told Rhys of this, he had shut him down. “You’re in denial, brother, I know it’s difficult to process, but we both felt her die, we both felt her heart stop. She’s gone.” Rhys wrapped Azriel in his arms as he cried again, and again, and one day he just stopped. Stopped feeling.

Over the decade he’s started to heal, he’s started to let himself live again, rather than burying himself in him work. But even as he did begin to heal, the whisper of your bond still never went away. His shadows were always restless when he thought of you. It was as if they were telling him that something wasn’t as it seemed. Azriel ignored them though, they mourned the loss of the bond just as much as he did.

****

The first time Azriel met Feyre and had heard that she was Tamlin’s bride he wanted to throw up. How could someone love the monster that took away his soul.

But Rhys had told him of their mating bond, and Azriel was happy for him, he was happy that Rhys would finally get to experience the greatest joy in the world. If he couldn’t be happy, he was glad that at least his brother could be.

****

“Rhys?” Feyre asked one day while they were in bed.

“Yes, darling.” He unconsciously stroked her hair.

“Who is the girl in the picture?” She asked gently while staring at the painting he had of his family hanging above the mantle. It was a painting from before he had started his high lord duties. He was still young in that picture, maybe around 16. Your mother stood behind him from where he sat on a stool, one hand was on one shoulder and the other was placed atop his father’s hand on the other. His father was standing as well, he had you propped up on one of his hips as you laid your head on his shoulder with an innocent smile. Your hair was long and black and your eyes were the same violet as Rhys’s.

He froze, his hand stilled over Feyre hair as he decided how to approach the topic. His hesitance caused Feyre to quickly tell him, “You don’t have to talk about it, I’m sorry for asking.”

“No, darling, that’s all right.” He took a deep breath. “That’s my younger sister, Y/n, Tamlin’s father murdered her and my mother a long time ago.”

“You said your father was a cruel man, he looks so happy in that.”

“He had a soft spot for Y/n, she was a daddy’s girl and could do no wrong.” He smiled fondly at the memory. “Whenever my dad was in one of his nasty moods or would push me too hard, all Y/n has to do was flash her innocent little smile at him and he would drop everything for her. I was envious of her at times, but also thankful.”

“I wish I could’ve met her.” Feyre says and looks into his eyes. She sends love and adoration down the bond and he kisses her gently in response.

“Her death hit Azriel harder than anyone.” Rhys continued.

“Harder than even you?”

Rhys nodded his head solemnly, “They were mated.”

Feyre pulls away and gasps. “They were.” Her eyes full with empathetic tears for Azriel. She knew first hand exactly what it felt like to feel the break of a mating bond. Luckily, she didn’t have to deal with it for a centuries. She couldn’t even imagine how Azriel felt, how he still feels.

“Is that why he’s so closed off.” Feyre asks as she settles back into Rhys.

“Partially, a little bit it just because that’s how he is, but it’s mostly because of her death.” He tries not to think to much about her death because it still brings him so much pain. “Feyre, Darling.”

“Yes?”

“Why did you ask now? You’ve seen that painting so many times.” Rhys asks curiously while looking at her.

“If I had known I would tell you sooner.” Feyre starts.

“Tell me what?”

“She used to appear in my dreams every night when I was in spring. I didn’t even realize it was the same girl until a couple days ago.” Feyre tells him.

“Your dreams? Will you let me see.” Rhys asks, a little bit unsure. Feyre nods and closes her eyes, trying to conjure a memory of one of the dreams.

Feyre was walking through the halls, the image hazy because it was a dream. Everything was silent except for the a banging coming from the floor.

“Help me” it was quiet the first time.

“Help me” it was louder now.

“Help me” louder, urgent.

“Help, help, help.” Pleading, begging, crying.

And then you appeared like a ghost. Your dress was bloody and ripped, the same one you’d been wearing the day you were killed. Your hair was in a matted braid and your eyes were dull and bloodshot. You were bony and deathly looking, your cheek bones were too sharp and you’re eyes too sunken.

“Help me, I’m in the—“

And then it was over, Feyre had woken up.

When Feyre opened her eyes she hadn’t expected to see tears cascading down Rhys’s face. “Oh baby, I’m sorry.”

“Feyre, this is going to sound crazy, but I think that she’s alive.” Rhys looks into her eyes and she wipes away her tears.

“I believe you.”

“I need to talk to Azriel.” He sits up and looks at her apologetically.

“Of course you do. I wouldn’t expect anything else.” He graciously pressed a kiss to her mouth before pulling on pants and rushing out of the room.

Cass, Az, Mor, Amren, office now. It’s urgent.

Rhys waits restlessly in his office leaning over a floorpan map of the spring court manor. Azriel and Cassian walk in together, both sweaty and dirty from training. Mor and Amren follow second later.

“What so urgent?” Amren breaks the silence as everyone waits for Rhys to start talking.

He doesn’t respond just yet. He just raised his head and looks directly at Azriel. Everyone can see his red rimmed eyes, proof that he had been crying.

“Rhys what’s going on.” Cassian tries to push again.

“Az,” Rhys starts lowly. Azriel look confused but there’s something it the back of his head telling him that he’s about it say something about you. “I think,” a deep breath, “I think that Y/n is alive.”

Sharp intakes of breaths are heard from each one of them. “That’s as awfully big assumption Rhys.” Cassian is the first to speak.

Rhys’s eyes are still locked on Azriel who is frozen in place, he might not be breathing. “Let me show you guys.” And so he does, Rhysand replays Feyre’s dream for all of them, holding back tears as he rewatches your face contorted with pain.

When it’s over Azriel stumbles as he falls into the nearest chair, his fingers press against his eyes as to stop to flow of tears. “I knew it,” Azriel breathes out, “I knew it and you told me I was in denial!” Azriel points an accusatory finger towards Rhys.

“Calm down, Azriel, this is just as hard for me as it is for you.” Azriel knows this, but after all the pain he’s suffered thinking you were dead has caused him to act irrationally.

“We’re going to get her, right?” Mor asks, stepping forwards to look at the map that Rhys was leaned over. “Would she be in the dungeons?”

“No.” Azriel said simply. “I’ve scoured every inch of those dungeons repeatedly with my shadows, she’s not in there.”

“Wha about if we went even lower.” Amren suggests, “Some High lords had magic shelters built even further beneath the dungeons. During the first war when none of you were alive yet, there were metals that stopped the frequency of magic. If you combine that metal with a low altitude, magic may be almost, if not completely blocked off.”

“Holy shit, Amren, I think you’re right.” Mor adds, “Gwyn was telling me of this old text in the library about ancient materials. There was a metal that blocked all physical magic and the only loophole is spiritual magic at short distances; which was probably how Y/n was able to appear in Feyre’s Dreams.”

Amren looked to Azriel, “It blocks bonds to, makes it appear as if it’s broken. That’s why you and Rhys thought you felt her die.”

“Oh, cauldron.” Cassian mutters in astonishment.

“How do we find out where it is? Everytime my shadows were down there they didn’t sense any other door.” Azriel a tried to think of any possibility that he missed something, but he couldn’t come up with any.

“Maybe the magic blocked your shadows too.” Cassian added, “if it blocks everything else there’s no reason it wouldn’t block magic shadow.”

“We have to get down there and look with our eyes, no magic will find it, that was the original purpose of why this metal was used to build rooms, it’s magically untraceable.” Amren informs.

“So we have to get Azriel in there.” Rhys says, “the next high lord conference is at the end of the week. Tamlin will be away long enough for Az to sneak in a look for any door in the dungeon.”

“What of his borders though? He’ll know when someone enters them.” Azriel tells Rhys.

“I’ll get into his head and block his conscience.”

“I don’t know if I can wait 4 days until then, Rhys.” Azriel looks at him with so much sadness in his eyes.

“I know, Az, but it’s our best shot at getting her home to us.” Rhys walks over and places a reassuring hand his shoulder.

He could do this, he waited 2 centuries already, what’s 4 more days?

#azriel #azriel x reader #acotar #cassian #rhysand #Feyre #Mor #amren #azriel x female!reader #azriel x oc #azriel x you #rhysand sister #night court #foxglovebells

[adventuringblind]

Drive with you forever

Chapter 1.1: coming home

Max Verstappen x reader x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Oscar Piastri

Summary: Seb brings reader home for the first time

Warnings: mentions of abuse and neglect

Notes: cute moments with Seb. This is what I live for.

Masterlist

Seb looks beside him to the passenger seat of his car. The small girl he'd met just a couple weeks ago is finally coming home with him.

Hanna had gone back sooner to get a few things ready for her. They are basically starting from scratch. She needs new clothes, her hair is matted, she's smaller than she should be. It didn't dawn on him when he said yes that she was coming to them like this.

But he wouldn't have it any other way. In their small cross-country trip, he'd already grown fond of her. Christian is going to kill him later for needing a week off, but again, he couldn't care less.

He would've been home sooner if it wasn't for all the legal things they needed to tie up. Now she's officially his, last name and everything.

It's definitely going to be interesting having a newborn and a teenager around.

Her head is leaned up against the window. Soft music is playing in the background. She looks at peace.

There is something about this girl he can't figure out. From what he's been told, living situation was nothing short of inhumane.

One of the first things they did when she was allowed to stay with him and Hanna, was getting her hair taken care of. It looked absolutely painful. Hanna called a friend of hers to come help.

The girl had flinched at every motion, but the woman was patient and gentle with her. The was the first time she asked Seb not to leave her alone.

It was then they were told that the amount of neglect it takes for that to happen is ridiculous. The odd fatherly instinct that Seb has always had was kicked into gear. Maybe that's the reason he feels so connected to her.

Now her hair is a way that she wants it. The tears of joy she cried made him and Hanna shed a few as well.

Seb pulls into the driveway of his home. The girl perks up at the sight, frantically looking at him and then the house. It's not small by any means, but its peaceful and relatively secluded. A piece of land he intends to make into something great.

He parks and exits the car. Then he moves around the outside to open her door. "Welcome home."

Cautious. Every move she makes is cautious.

Even as they enter the house it's like she moves as if someone is going to jump out at her around every corner. He takes special notice of the way she touches nothing aside from the ground, and her steps are silent. She walks in a way that assures she won't make a sound.

Sebastian shows her around the house, making note of the most important places for her to remember. When he opens the door to what is her room now, his smiles at her. "This is yours."

She peaks her head inside with caution. Then she mumbles a 'thank you'. Seb can see the outline of tears in her cheeks. It shatters him.

"It's completely yours. You can decorate it however you want."

"Decorate?"

"Like fill it with things, move the furniture around, anything you like." He explains. Her confusion only makes him wonder if she even had a room at her previous place.

He's not sure that she really understands yet, but she nods at him anyway.

"Why don't you get settled in, feel free to explore the house and I'll come find you when it's time to eat?" He suggested. Sebastian had learned that even if she agrees with them, maybe she'll start to see that she can say no.

~

Seb joined his wife in the kitchen. Determined to give the teen some space to adjust to her surroundings and help Hanna with dinner.

"I've never wanted to commit a murder more than I do in this moment." He groans, throwing his arms around the waist of his wife.

"And why is that?"

"Because she looks petrified to step a toe in the wrong place."

Hanna turns to face him. Her head now resting on his chest. "Good thing she's here now. I know you'll protect her."

It's definitely going to be a challenge. They are already new parents and now they are in charge of a teenager. But they are a team, and they'll figure it out together.

~

Seb once again watches the girl at the table. He feels clueless. She has done nothing but stare at her food with her head down and hands neatly folded behind her.

He's noticed that she usually hides if she is in desperate need of food. He caught her once looking for food and she quickly fell to her knees begging for his forgiveness.

They'd yet to have a dinner all together at a table. Now he has no idea how to help her and that tiny voice in the back of his mind is trying to tell him he's not cut out for this. An annoyance he shakes away.

Hanna whispers to him that she's going to feed the baby and asks if he'll be okay. If he's honest, he doesn't know. But he shakes his head yes anyway.

Something of an idea hits him. He's not sure if it's a good one and will have to find out the hard way.

He switches his spot which was originally across from her to next to her. She still doesn't look at him. "Can I ask you a question?"

This seems to get her attention. Her eyes barely move to look at him at she slowly nods her head yes.

"Were you not allowed to eat? With your dad?" He says it as gently and carefully as possible.

He can see the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. She barely is able to shake her head yes.

"Well here you're allowed to eat whenever you want."

It's a barely even a whisper. "Really?"

"I wouldn't lie about something like that."

The smile despite the tears almost makes him cry too. He wants to, but they still have dinner to get through.

~

The first time Seb sees her Scars, he also feels the rage he feels every time something about her past home life shows itself.

Hanna had given her a pair of shorts and a tank top to wear to bed. The girl's night terrors caused her to wake up sweating and Hanna had suggested something more breathable to help the issue.

The teen came down to say goodnight before she turned in and Seb had the urge to call anyone who could tell him where her father is.

The lines litter a majority of her now visible skin. Some even look recent, the botched stitching still holding them together.

He doesn't care whether they are bleeding or not; he wraps all of them. It's not much, but it's Sébastien's way of helping.

It's interesting to him how she smiles at the gesture. She actually finds his franticness amusing.

So he does it for every cut after.

~

The first time Seb had come home from a race after she came to live with them, he brought her back a blanket.

He wasn't thinking too much about it. Just saw it on his way out and thought of her.

She, however, thought it to be the best thing she'd ever seen. Hanna said she never goes anywhere without it. Even has to pry it away from her to wash it.

It hadn't dawned on him that she's probably never had a comfort item before. That blanket is probably the most comforting thing she's ever received.

So, when he asked her one day if she'd had anything to eat all day (Hanna said she was struggling), she immediately dropped to her knees.

He felt strange. She'd done this a few times and often as a result of her feeling she did something wrong.

Seb grabbed the blanket off her bed and wrapped it around her, then got on his knees in front of her to make them level.

It's never sat well with him, the idea of having someone beneath him. It feels dehumanizing.

She buries herself it the blanket. Seb can see her body relax at the feeling.

She may not be his biological daughter. But he loves her as his own.

~

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[thebadgerclan]

Heir

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Summary: The heir to the throne...

A/N: I got a bit carried away with this 😂 (and I might do a part 2 tomorrow)

It was impossible not to get your hopes up, but you tried to do so desperately as you waited for the Healer.  Your period was late–a week and a half late, to be exact, and you knew what that meant.  Or, what it could mean.  You and Nikolai had been married for three years, and for the better part of one of them, you’d been trying for a baby.  Your husband needed an heir, yes, but you were ready for children, you wanted to have a baby with Nikolai.

But it hadn’t been as easy as some women made it look.  After the two of you had decided it was time for a child, Nikolai had taken you to be nearly every night.  Even so, your periods arrived like clockwork every month, and every time you woke to find the sheets stained crimson, you found yourself sobbing in your husband’s arms:

It shattered his heart to see you so distraught.  Nikolai held you tightly against his chest, pressing kisses to the crown of your head.  “I’m here, my love,” he said, not bothering to tell you it would be alright.  “Right here.”  He was heartbroken too, he was every month, both for your pain, but also that he was not yet a father.  It would happen, Nikolai had hope, but until it did, he would stay strong and comfort you, however he could.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the Healer knocking on the door, curtseying as she entered.  “Moya tsaritsa,” she greeted.  “You sent for me?”  “Yes,” you replied, smoothing your hands over your skirts, trying to calm your nerves.  “My period is more than a week late.”  The Healer nodded, gesturing for you to lie down.  Neither of you were new to this song and dance, but you prayed to every Saint that today would be different.

You watched as the Healer folded her hands, moving them over your belly.  For several moments, she was silent before smiling softly.  “Congratulations, Your Majesty.”  You sat up, a bewildered look on your face.  “Are you serious?”  “I am, Queen Y/N.  You are pregnant.”  Tears sprang to your eyes, and you felt joy bubbling in your chest.  “Oh Saints!  Thank you!”  The Healer was taken aback when you hugged her, but accepted your embrace.

“You are most welcome, moya tsaritsa,” she said, gracefully exiting the room.  Your mind was spinning, overwhelmed, but one through prevailed.  “I need to tell Nikolai,” you said aloud, and an instant later, you were hurrying through the halls towards the Fabrikator workshops.

***

A knock at the door tore Nikolai’s focus from the report he was pouring over, and he rolled his eyes.  “All Saints, I swear, if this is about the–Y/N!”  You had entered the King’s study, your hands clasped behind your back.  “You have no idea how happy I am to see you, my beauty.”  Nikolai stretched before he stood, coming to stand before you.  “I’m afraid to know what might have happened if it wasn’t me coming in.”

Nikolai laughed.  “Soklov has been pestering me about the budget report.  But that’s not important.”  He looked at you, seeing your hands held behind your back, your nervous posture, and your hesitant-yet-excited smile.  “What I would like to know, however, is what my precious girl has behind her back…”

You smiled and held your hands out before you.  In them was a miniature version of Sturmhond’s teal frock coat, and your husband cocked his head.  “This, my darling, is far too small for me,” Nikolai teased, and you shook your head.  “No, but I thought our little one might want to match their Daddy.”  At once, his face went slack.

“Our….?”  You nodded.  “Our little one?”  Another nod.  “Y/N, please tell me this isn’t a joke.”  “It isn’t.”  “You’re pregnant?”  Tears pricked at your eyes.  “I am.”  “I’m going to be a father?”  “You are.”  “I….You’re pregnant?!”  “Yes, Nikolai, I’m pregnant, you’re going to be a father!”  Your husband’s face lit up, and he cried out with elation, lifting you into his arms.  “Oh, my love!  I’m going to be a father!”

“Yes!” you said, tears streaming down your face.  Nikolai set you down and kissed you, his tears mixing with yours.  “You have made me the happiest man alive!  My sweetest love, you are a goddess.”  Then he dropped to his knees and pressed his lips to your belly, his hands on your hips.  “Little one, can you hear me?  I’m your Daddy, and I love you so much.”  It was far too soon for the baby to be able to hear him, but you didn’t correct him.  The two of you were drowning in happiness and bliss, and you were content to sink in it forever

***

Your pregnancy passed without any complications, Nikolai made sure  of it.  You had the best Healers waiting on you hand and foot, ensuring both you and your baby were perfectly healthy.  Nikolai was already taking to fatherhood well; decorating the nursery, amassing a collection of children’s books and toys, pouring over books on newborns and childhood development.  And while you didn’t know whether the child was boy or a girl, you had enough clothes for either gender to keep an entire generation of Ravkan babies dressed.

The people were overjoyed at the coming of the heir to the throne, sending well wishes and gifts to the palace every single day.  Most of it was deemed not fit for the Queen, but you ensured that any food that arrived at the palace was sent to the poor, that any baby clothes were distributed to mothers who needed them.  You hadn’t seen the country so jubilant since your wedding, and you knew that the birth of your child would send the nation into a frenzy.

Of course, you went into labor when Nikolai was away from the Palace.  He had been called to Balakirev for a summit, one that he’d been extremely hesitant to attend.  With the birth of your child so close, Nikolai was hesitant to leave you in a different room than him.  But you’d convinced him, and he went.  Of course, a messenger had been sent when your water broke, but that didn’t lessen the fear you felt when the contractions started and the midwives and Healers flooded the room.

When Nikolai received the message, he mounted his horse and rode hard for Os Alta.  He didn’t say goodbye to his hosts, didn’t gather his things, his only focus was on getting to you.  It only took three hours to return to the Palace, but it felt like an eternity.  The King dismounted and was immediately running, ignoring the servants and nobles he passed along the way.

The corridor that led to your bedroom was packed: the entirety of the Ravkan court, your ladies in waiting, the Apparat, and all of them bowed or curtsied as Nikolai approached.  “Am I too late?” he asked, completely breathless.  “No, moi tsar,” the Apparat responded.  “Her Majesty has not delivered yet.”  You moaned in pain, and Nikolai’s blood ran cold.  “Saints, Y/N,” he whispered as he made to enter the room, but the Apparat stepped between him and the door.

“You cannot go in there, Your Majesty,” he said, and Nikolai frowned.  “Excuse me?”  “There is womanly work occurring, Majesty.  We remain out here.”  Other men would nod, agree, step back.  Nikolai would not.  “Do you enjoy being head of the Church?”  “Pardon?”  “Would you like to remain head of the Church?”  “I–Your Majesty, surely th–”  “Do you think you can remain in your position as head of the Church by defying the King of Ravka?”

The Apparat remained silent, and Nikolai stepped closer.  “Get out of my way, or I will see that you never set foot in a church again.”  He remained still, but when you moaned in pain once more, Nikolai shoved the priest aside and entered the room.  You were propped up in bed, nurses, midwives, and Healers fluttering around you, a sheen of sweat covering your face.  

Nikolai was at your side in an instant, taking your hand and kissing it.  “Y/N,” he breathed.  “Saints, I–”  “You’re here,” you said, a soft smile appearing on your face.  “Stay, please.”  “I’m not going anywhere, my love,” he replied, settling himself at your side on the bed.  “I’m right by your side.  Always, Y/N.”  Another contraction hit, and you gripped Nikolai’s hand hard, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Nikolai,” you moaned.  “I don’t think I can do this.”  “Nonsense, my love,” he replied, desperately trying to remain calm for you.  “You are strong, you can do this.  You’ve carried our little angel for nine months, and you’ve done so well.  You’re almost done, Y/N, now let’s meet our little one.”  You nodded, and when the Healer told you it was time, you started pushing.  Nikolai’s heart cracked when you cried out from the pain, but he remained at your side, holding your hand and kissing your forehead.

After nearly an hour of pushing, you and Nikolai were greeted with the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard.  A sharp, shrill cry; your child was here.  “A girl, Your Majesties!” the Healer announced, cutting the cord and assessing the newborn.  A sob tore from your mouth, and Nikolai kissed your forehead, wrapping his arms around you.  “We have a daughter!” he cried, tears streaking down his cheeks.  “A little girl!”

“Is she alright?” you asked, craning your neck.  The midwives were between your legs, ensuring the placenta was delivered and that you were alright, but your focus was on your newborn daughter.  “Perfectly healthy, moya tsaritsa,” the Healer said.  “Just cleaning her up a bit.  Here we are!”  The Healer came to your side and laid a pink, squirming, screaming bundle on your chest.  And it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.  

“Oh Saints,” Nikolai said, covering his mouth.  “She’s perfect, she’s beautiful!”  “She is,” you agreed, tracing a finger over your daughter’s cheek.  A nurse helped you shift your nightdress to the side and showed you how to help your baby latch so she could nurse, and everyone filtered out of the room, leaving you and your little family in peace.

“I didn’t think I could love someone this much,” you said, watching your child in absolute awe.  “Neither did I,” Nikolai said.  “Then I met you.  And then you gave birth to this little miracle. Oh Y/N, You are absolutely everything to me.  You and this little angel.”  “We need a name,” you said sleepily, and your husband nodded.  “Any ideas, beautiful?”  “Hmm.  It has to be something regal.  She’ll be Queen someday.”

Nikolai nodded, having completely forgotten that his daughter was more than his daughter: she was the heir to the throne, a Princess, the future Queen.  For several minutes, you and your husband went back and forth on names, but you finally settled on one.  “Rosala,” you said.  “Princess Rosala Tatiana Lantsov.”  Nikolai nodded.  “It’s perfect.  Just like her.  And like her mother.”  Rosala had finished nursing, and you’d shifted her into her father’s arms, who looked at her like she was the sun and the moon.

“I suppose I should present her, shouldn’t I?”  It was Ravkan law that the heir must be presented to the court after birth.  It used to be done immediately after the birth, before the Healers could clean the baby up, but Nikolai refused to allow his court to be part of such an intimate moment.  “You should.  And the sooner you do that, the sooner we get her back.”  The presentation could take time: every member was required to kneel and swear fealty to their future monarch.

Nikolai pressed a kiss to your forehead, adjusting Rosala in his arms.  “Get some rest, my love,” he said.  “You have certainly earned it.”  You were already snuggling into the covers as he said it.  “I love you,” you said.  “And I love you, Rosala”  Nikolai beamed, and he knew his face would be sore tomorrow from how much he’d been smiling, and he nodded to the guard at the door, who opened it.

The court was still gathered in the corridor, and they fell silent when the King stepped out.  “Princess Rosala Tatiana Lantsov,” he announced.  “Heir to the Double Eagle throne, future Queen of Ravka”  At once, the court bowed and curtsied, some whispering prayers for the Princess.  Nikolai carried his daughter up and down the corridor, allowing his court to kneel and pledge their loyalty.  When that was done, he re-entered the bedroom, finding you sound asleep.

He sat in the rocker beside the bassinet, Rosala cradled in his arms.  “My little love,” he whispered.  “I’m your Daddy, and I love you so much.  I’m going to tell you your first bedtime story now, little one, and I hope that someday, you’ll have a story just like it.”  Your daughter yawned, her little eyes closed, and Nikolai continued.  “Once upon a time, there was a Prince who loved the sea.  He thought he would never love anything more, but then, he met the most beautiful woman…”

#nikolai lantsov x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone reader insert