#but they see that happening to THEIR child????
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How to Support People with Facial Differences - the Face Equality Week 2024 Special
[large text: How to Support People with Facial Differences - the Face Equality Week 2024 Special]
Today is the 13th of May, which means that the Face Equality Week has just started. This year's theme is “My Face is a Masterpiece” which is probably my favorite sentence ever said about having a facial difference. Huge fan, should be used way more often in my opinion.
Because of this occasion, I would like to share some thoughts about Face Equality that I think are rather entry-level, i.e. you don't need to know much to execute these, but you can still support us.
Stop the stare.
I know it's fun to stare - or so I guess, at least - but maybe you shouldn't. Next time you see someone who has a scar or who's face does not move the same way as yours, just mind your business. We can tell when you're “discreetly” looking.
Don't call us deformed.
Knowing how the people you're trying to support actually call themselves should be an absolute first step, but most people still fail here. Most of us don't appreciate being called “deformed”. I certainly don't. Say “facial difference”, or “disfigurement” if you must. It's 2024. Leave “deformed” to medical reports from the 70s.
No more “What happened?!”s.
If you aren't a doctor, there's a high-to-100% chance that it's none of your business. It's cool that you're curious - keep it to yourself.
Stop insinuating that we are ugly.
“Support people who are ugly!” isn't very supportive. I would say, not in the slightest. Say “people who don't fit the current beauty standards” if that's what you mean.
Or, to go with this year's theme, “people whose faces are masterpieces” : )
Use critical thinking online.
Is the reaction photo actually funny, or is it just a person with a craniofacial condition? Is the meme actually a meme, or is it just making fun of a person with a facial disfigurement? Is body-shaming suddenly hilarious to you when the person shamed has strabismus?
If the entire punchline is “lol they have a disability xd”, it's ableism. Plain and simple.
To go with the point above - your joke is probably not funny.
We get it! You can't help telling us how "you're going to hell for laughing" (which yeah, probably) and how we remind you of the ugliest character you have ever seen. I guarantee you that we heard it, and that you are behaving like an edgy middle schooler who hasn't "found out" yet. It's boring and annoying. Also ableist, but you're aware of that already if you're saying that you're going to hell.
Stop with the goddamn trigger warnings.
We aren't “body horror”, we aren't “gore”, we aren't something that you need to advise your viewers to use their discretion over. Every “graphic footage: child with neurofibromatosis” and “#tw burn scar” is a sign of ableism and disfiguremisia. People with facial differences deserve to be seen. Ableds can survive seeing a person without a nose.
Do a basic reading on what disfiguremisia is.
New word! And a pretty damn important one. It's a brand of ableism that intersects with more or less everything, and it means discrimination and hatred of people with facial differences/disfigurements. The bullying, harassment, endless name-calling, and microaggressions are all results of disfiguremisia. The ways in which everything is harder for us isn't some unchangeable rule of how the world works, it's just an extremely prevalent type of discrimination.
Understand that we are people.
I know, revolutionary - and yet impossible for so many people to get. We can be a visual representation of evil when it's necessary, we can be a feel-good inspirational story on a morning talk-show, but not much else, it seems. In reality, we are complex, we have our own lives, we can be happy and sad and have the same exact joys and worries that you have.
Hey, artists - facial differences don't make you evil.
Title stolen from a great essay by Lise Deguire (link). When's the last time you saw a positive character with a facial difference that wasn't inspiration porn? I mean a character that's not edgy, full of angst, a murderer, or a villain. Based on what you see in the media, you'd think that having a scar renders you evil on the spot, but in reality it just makes you loathe how artists apparently think you are like. It's boring, it's overdone, it's ableism. Stop doing this, and start noticing when it's being done. Point it out if your friend is writing their new villain to be an evil burn survivor. This kind of portrayal needed to stop ages ago, but tomorrow will be a great time as well.
Before you reply with “I've never seen this” - Darth Vader, Lion King’s Scar (subtle name, great thing to teach kids!), Freddy Krueger, Voldemort, we could be here forever. You're just not paying attention.
Pay attention to where we are not included.
As discussed, there are some places where you see us all the time. But where do you not see us?
Advertisements (unless it's for a scar-removal cream, of course). Fashion shows. Magazine covers. Romance movies where we are the main character.
We deserve to see ourselves in what's around us in the same way able-bodied people do. Trying to make it seem like we don't exist - that's deliberate.
Interact with our art.
We draw, write, sing, act in movies, we do everything! Support us in the most tangible way - leave us a nice comment, read our books, listen to our songs. Watch movies where actual people with facial differences star, not pseudoinspirational stories about how “being disfigured is ok” where they shove an able-bodied actor into a full face prosthetic just to not have an actor with a disfigurement on set.
Include us.
As this year's Face Equality Week calls for, include us. In art, in movies, in books, in your life. Show us as positive people who are valuable, who are a part of your community - I guarantee that we are in every one that's out there. The world is hostile and unwelcoming to people with facial differences - be the change, wherever you are!
I know that it is different from the usual posts I make, but I hope it was somewhat educational. I just like to use every occasion that I can to force Face Equality into people's heads. To make this at least a bit about writing to keep the blog's theme, I will say that if you want to write about us, you need to care about us in real life as well. Otherwise, it's shallow and pointless.
Below the readmore are some links/resources that you can click to educate yourself further. A lot of them lead to Face Equality International because they have just about everything you should know. If you want to be a better ally to people with facial differences, I heavily recommend them!
#MyFaceIsAMasterpiece
mod Sasza
https://faceequalityinternational.org/2023/04/why-i-will-not-hide/
https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/blog/disability-is-diversity/202111/hidden-community-the-movement-face-equality
https://faceequalityinternational.org/2022/05/facial-differences-in-the-media/
https://faceequalityinternational.org/2023/04/advertising-excludes-women-with-faces-like-mine/
https://www.phoenix-society.org/resources/burn-community-bookshelf
https://faceequalityinternational.org/about-fei/international-face-equality-week/
https://faceequalityinternational.org/2023/04/hidden-from-view-women-with-facial-differences-in-the-media/
https://www.phoenix-society.org/resources/i-dont-see-your-scars
whoa thanks for actually clicking the readmore!!
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STAY
Max Verstappen x Horner!Reader
Warnings : Angst, walking out on pregnant girlfriend? idk, dick Max? (honestly idk why i thought of this the thing just came into my head) Girlies i’m so sorry if this is shit this is my first time writing for someone if F1, this is just fiction idk all the facts.
Summary : As Christian Horners daughter, you were bound to meet Max Verstappen. What happens when you get pregnant when he is on the verge of becoming world champion and he doesn’t want to become a father? What happens when 3 years later after leaving each other’s lives, you get invited to the Grand Prix and he sees you again, this time with a little boy who looks just like him?
This is my first ever imagine on here so it’s probably really bad but i’m trying yall, we’re gonna work on it.
When you first met Max, you were both 18, he had started driving for red bull and you had started going to your dad’s, Christian Horner’s, work for some experience.
Racing wasn’t something you were exactly into, but it was practically your families life, so you grew up on it. At 18, you had decided to have a go at working in PR & media, and the RedBull F1 company was the perfect place to do that. Then you met Max, and your whole experience there changed.
Up until that point, you had never met a boy like him, he was so different, so passionate about the sport and you had to admit to yourself that you liked being around him, and he liked being around you.
And a relationship started around a year after you first met, a whole year of shy smiles to each other, hugs in excitement when he won, ones that lasted slightly longer than they should have. A year after you met was when Max finally had the guts to ask you out, and you, privately, got giddy with excitement.
He was your first everything. Your first date, your first kiss, your first boyfriend, and the first one you had sex with.
You couldn’t get enough of each other, you were utterly in love with him and everyone could see it. Max was never very good at showing his emotions, until it came to you, that’s when he completely changed.
Then one day, 3 years into your relationship, two pink lines turned up on a stick. You and Max had always been careful, a baby wasn’t what was wanted or needed at the time, you both knew that, Max was focusing on his racing career, he was determined to be the very best he could without letting anything getting in his way, and becoming at father at 21 would do just that.
But he deserved to know, and in your heart you hoped that the love the two of you shared would make everything okay, that it would all work out. But it didn’t.
Max freaked out, saying he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t be a father, he wouldn’t be a father. He struggled with his relationship with his father growing up, he had barely gotten over that, and now his own child? No, he refused. And so you left, saying goodbye to him, you left.
And so you went back home to England, leaving Max behind, starting a new life with your baby. It wasn’t until 3 years later that Max would finally see your baby.
Otto had just turned 3, and he was the light of your world, his baby blue eyes and light blonde hair in slight curls was the thing that got you through each day.
Dropping Otto off at nursery, you got a phone-call from your dad.
“Hey sweetheart,”
“Hey dad, everything okay?”
“Listen, i know you’re probably going to say no, and that’s fine, but how about you and Otto coming to the Grand Prix this year? I know how much he likes cars, maybe he’d like to come and see them. He always go on about it, I thought it might be a nice idea to bring him out.”
You sighed, you knew how much your dad wanted to involve his grandson in the sport. Christian would always sit and watch the races reruns with him on tv when he got home, and played Disney’s cars with him when they saw each other. You knew your dad just wanted to do something special for Otto, but was it really worth the risk of seeing Max again, going through all the heartache again.
“I don’t know dad-“
“Max won’t be anywhere near you guys Y/N, I promise, you won’t have to see him, he won’t even know you guys are there.” You sighed again, know your dad was really wanting you to do this.
“You promise?” you asked, almost like a child.
“I promise.”
“I’ll think about it.”
And so you thought about it, and thought about it, and thought about it until it kept you up at night.
It was only 48 before the Grand Prix that you had decided to go, and it was a tough decision, but for the sake of your son’s happiness, you gave in.
Getting there, you were greeted by your dad and his wife, Geri, who both immediately pulled you and your son into a hug. Geri looked at your son, “he’s gotten so big! I remember the day he was born, it seems like just yesterday.”
You smiled at her, it was true, the first 3 years of his life flew by in the blink of an eye, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness in your chest, not only for yourself, but for Max who never got to witness it. He would never get to see his first steps, his first smile, all because he didn’t want to. Everything in you said to be angry at Max, and while you were, you felt sad for him, because how sad that he would never get to see how amazing your son was.
Your dad took Otto out of your arms, cuddling his grandson who had a lightening mcqueen backpack on and a redbull baseball cap on. “Ready Ottie? We’re gonna go and see some cars, you excited?”
Otto squealed in delight, he fist pumped the air. “Yeah! Cars that go zoom?” He asked, in his sweet little voice.
“Cars that go very zoom,” Christian replied to him.
Running into Max almost seemed inevitable, even when your dad had promised you that he would be no where near you or Otto, but you hadn’t expected it to be because of your son running up to him.
Before the race began, before Max got into his car, before he would even be able to realise you were there, your dad had taken you and Otto to see the car, knowing your little boy would love it. Christian had promised you Max wouldn’t be there, he would be off getting ready for the race and doing some media responsibilities.
And he was, you and your little boy were enjoying yourselves, Otto go the chance to sit in the car, you and your dad got photos with him, he was giggling none stop, and you couldn’t help but feel this is how it could’ve been, just with Max being the one to show his little boy around.
Taking Otto out the car, your dad put him on the ground, holding his hand to keep him there. You and your dad talked more about the car, admiring it. You both hadn’t notice that the door had opened, and Otto had run straight towards the person that had opened it.
“Y/N?” the voice said, causing you to turn around, going pale.
Max was stood there, your little boy at his feet, his little baseball cap falling slightly over his eyes from the impact of running into Max’s legs.
You stood there speechless, not sure what to say after all these years. Your dad ran to get Otto, who giggled as his grandad picked him up, while Max just stared at him.
“He-Is that?” Max said, breathless pointing to your child, but you just stood there, heart beating out of your chest.
Otto made grabbing hands towards you, trying to get out of his grandad’s arms, “mummy!” He screeched, and you took his out of your dad’s hands, gathering his things in your hands, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible.
“I’m sorry, coming here was a mistake.” You said quietly, trying to walk out the door where Max was stood.
“No wait!” Max said, not wanting you to leave, but you were now angry. He didn’t want you to leave now, but it was okay three years ago? Your heart had shattered when he wanted nothing to do with your baby, and it seemed to have shattered all over seeing him once again. “What’s his name?” He asked, staring at your little boy, who had the same eyes as him.
“Otto Max Horner.”
You could see Max trying to calm his breathing, his hands slightly shaking. Otto looked at Max, giving him a goofy smile, not understanding what was happening.
“Stay,” Max said to the both of you. “Just stay under after the race. Please just let me talk to you, let me talk to him, just stay for the race.”
You just smiled at him, sadly.
“You should have asked me to stay three years ago Max, it’s too late for that now.”
#max verstappen#max verstappen imagine#f1 x reader#f1#formula one imagine#f1 imagine#red bull racing#max verstappen x reader#x reader#imagine#red bull f1
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i hope this is how to send a request cuz this is my first time requesting anything. but i wanted to ask if you could do a story of spencer x reader of when he comes back home from prison in season 12? i don't know if i want it to be girlfriend and boyfriend or if they're married i don't really know, sorry. but i don't really mind either way. hope you can write something like this, thank you :))) <333
tysm for trusting me with your first request and sorry this took so long, it's also kind of rushed and I'm not too confident with it but I hope you like it <3
Home is whenever I’m with you
Category: angst, hurt, comfort, gn reader ~1.7k words
He’s back. Your boyfriend is back. There's a tangle of nerves in the pit of your stomach at the mere thought of seeing him again, especially after all that’s happened. You get to hug him, to kiss him, to feel the softness of his thick, beautiful hair under your fingers again.
But not now. His mother is missing. Those are the words Emily spoke to you over the phone after she called to let you know he’s released. It’s ironic, to hear such wonderful news just to be followed by something so disheartening. And the guilt creeps in, that nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, if you had gone to visit his mom as planned, this nightmare could've been avoided.
“Do not blame yourself,” Emily adds, her voice is a lifeline in the chaos of emotions. It's as if she can read your thoughts, know exactly what you're feeling without you saying a word. “Just stay where you are, okay? I've got agents keeping an eye on your building. I'll keep you updated."
You're left with no choice but to accept. Your boyfriend may be back, but you still can’t see him.
And you get it. His mom comes first, always has, and always will. A child's love for their parents is unbreakable, and if you were in his shoes, you'd move heaven and earth to keep your parents safe. So, naturally, you do what any loving and supportive girlfriend would do—you wait.
And wait. And wait. And wait. Each passing second stretches into agonizing minutes, and those minutes drag on into long, uncertain hours. One skipped meal turns into two, and suddenly, you're lying in bed in the dead of night with an empty stomach. You know you should take care of yourself, but your mind is fixated on him.
What is he doing? Has he eaten anything? Is he taking breaks at all? Has he managed to get any sleep? And most importantly, has there been any news about his mom?
Your mind is racing, flooded with countless unanswered questions. You try to find comfort in sleep, but every ring of your phone feels like a cruel interruption, each time hoping it's him—or at least a word from his friends. But it's always a disappointment, just meaningless notifications and distant messages from your friends about mundane plans.
Eventually, exhaustion overtakes you, but your sleep is restless, it's as if your mind refuses to grant you a moment of respite. Then, in the quiet hours of the night, at two in the morning, you're jolted awake by the familiar sound of a new message on your phone.
His mom is safe.
A sigh of relief escapes you, almost audible in the silence. You type out a response to Emily with trembling hands.
That’s good to hear. Is he fine?
Not great, but he's managing.
That's all you need to hear. His mom is safe, and though he's not doing great, he's managing well enough. With a weight lifted off your shoulders, you finally allow yourself to relax. At least now you can drift back into sleep knowing that he's partially okay.
You wake up again later that night by a rapid knocking. At first, you try to brush it off as just noise from the neighbors, but as you slowly come to your senses, you realize it's coming from your apartment.
Half-worried and half-curious, you reluctantly peel yourself from the comfort of your bed, your mind racing with possibilities as you approach the door. When you glance through the peephole, you're met with a sight that instantly jolts you awake. Without a second thought, you fumble with the lock and swing the door open.
And there your boyfriend stands, but he's a far cry from the man you remember. His hair is wild and unkempt, and his eyes, usually bright and lively, are now dull and tired, shadowed by exhaustion. He's dressed in his usual suit and tie, a combination you've always admired for its professional and polished look. But today, his shirt is half-tucked, half-untucked, and his tie hangs loosely around his neck
“Spence, what are you—”
Before you can finish, he bursts through the door, wrapping his arms tightly around you.
"I'm sorry," he breaks, his voice strained with emotion. "I—I wanted to come here as fast as I can—"
“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” You wrap your arms around his waist and take in a deep breath. Despite his disheveled appearance, he smells exactly as you remember—warm, familiar, like home. “It’s all good, honey, I don’t mind.”
“It’s not alright. I should’ve answered your calls—”
“Spencer, it’s okay,” you interrupt gently, running your fingers soothingly down his back. “After all the time you’ve been away, a few more hours hardly matter.”
“Well, it should matter,” he mumbles against your skin, his voice muffled as he buries himself in the crook of your neck. “I shouldn’t have left you like this.”
You hold him tighter, feeling his weight against you, his breath warm against your skin. “Shh,” you murmur, rubbing his back in comforting circles. “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”
He nods against your neck, his grip on you tightening as if he's afraid to let go.
“How’s your mom?”
He lifts his head slightly, meeting your gaze with tired eyes. “She’s... she’s okay,” he replies. “We found her. She’s safe now.”
You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, relief flooding through you. “I’m glad to hear that,” you say, cupping his cheek gently. “Are you okay?”
He hesitates for a moment as if considering the question carefully. “I’m fine, just… tired.”
Your fingers traced the lines of exhaustion etched on his face. “Let’s get you inside and comfortable, okay?”
He nods, and you usher him inside, relief flooding through you as you close the door behind you. Your fingers naturally intertwine with his as you guide him towards your bedroom.
“Do you want anything? Water, food?”
He shakes his head, falling into step with you. “Maybe later,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand. “How have you been?”
"Well," you begin, your voice filled with warmth. "'I've been keeping busy while you're gone.”
You lead him to the edge of the bed, sitting him down while you stand between his legs, your eyes meeting his tired gaze. "Work has been... work," you say with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “And I managed to put up the shelf I bought online. Look.”
You gesture towards the bookshelf nestled in the corner of the room and he follows your gaze. “You did that all by yourself?”
"Yeah, I did," you reply, your smile widening. "It wasn't easy without having you constantly nagging me how to do it, but I figured it out."
He nods, a hint of regret shadowing his features. “I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you.”
You shake your head, moving closer to him and placing a comforting hand on his cheek. "Don’t apologize.”
He leans into your touch, his gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability that tugs at your heartstrings. His eyes, wide and brown, look up at you, and you can’t help but compare him to a puppy—sad, yet undeniably endearing, with an innocence that melts your heart. You brush a thumb gently across his cheek, noting the subtle change in his appearance.
“You grew out your facial hair.”
A faint blush colors his cheeks as he shifts under your gaze. "Yeah, I guess I did," he replies, his voice tinged with self-consciousness.
You can't help but smile at his bashfulness. "I like it," you assure him. "It suits you."
“Really?”
“It’s growing on me.”
His expression softens at your words, a warmth spreading through his tired features. "Maybe I'll keep it.”
You nod in agreement, a smile playing on your lips as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. He sighs contentedly as he leans into your chest, and you gently stroke his hair, soothing him with your touch.
"It's good to be back," he murmurs, his voice muffled against your shirt.
"It's good having you back," you reply softly, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face.
“I thought I was never going to see you again.”
"Why would you think that?”
He hesitates for a moment. "After everything that happened... I wasn't sure if I'd make it back to you.”
You gently tilt his chin up, meeting his gaze. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that.”
His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods, his vulnerability laid bare. "I was also afraid that I might lose you,” he adds. “I was afraid you’d get tired of waiting for me.”
“Oh, honey…”
“Everyone I care for always leaves, sooner or later. And I can’t bear the thought… the thought of not coming home without you in my life,” he admits, his voice trembling with emotion and you feel a lump form in your throat as you listen. "I feel… so different right now. I don’t feel like my usual self, and I-I was afraid you wouldn’t like this version of me.”
You pull back slightly, cupping his face in your hands, your gaze locked with his. "I would never think any less of you.”
He sniffs, and that's when you notice a tear escaping down his cheek. Your heart aches even more. “I might not be the same person you last saw me.”
You shake your head, brushing away his tears with your thumb. "It doesn't matter," you reply earnestly. “You're still the person I fell in love with, and nothing will ever change that.”
He looks at you in disbelief, as if he can't quite comprehend how you could love him so unconditionally. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because I see you," you reply. "Beyond the surface, beyond the changes, I see who you are—the kindness, the strength, the love that has always been a part of you. And that's something that remains unchanged, no matter what."
He exhales softly, his features softening as he absorbs your words. But you aren’t finished, not until he realizes how worthy of love he is.
“You’re still the man who loves silly magic tricks, you’re still the man who asks for jello every time we have dessert,” you tease, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He cracks a small smile at your playful words. “You’re still the man who loves books, who loves learning. You're still the man who loves helping other people.”
You lean closer, your breath mingling with his as your lips almost touch.
“And I’ll be the one to love every version of you,” you whisper. “The person you were, the person you are, and the person you're becoming.”
He grips your hips and pulls you closer. Without a word, you understand what he needs, what he's asking for, and you close the distance between you, your lips brushing against his.
You never truly understand the meaning of bittersweet until this very moment. His tears carry the saltiness of sorrow, but his lips offer a sweetness that lingers on your tongue. You feel the weight of his pain, the heaviness of his grief, yet you also sense a comforting warmth in the way his lips move gently against yours.
You can feel his uncertainty, and it’s clear that getting back into his old routine won't be easy after everything he's been through. But you’re here for him and you're willing to support him in any way you can.
Because he’s back. Your boyfriend is back. You can hardly believe you get to hug him, kiss him, and run your fingers through his thick, beautiful hair once more. You can’t believe you get to hold him again in your arms, and you hope to do so for a very long time.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid angst#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds fanfic#spencer x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#criminal minds
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(inspired by the discord meltdown 2k24 pt1) would you please be so kind to share with us devious reader baby trapping Mafia!Carlos but only for it to backfire because Carlos is like a man possessed once he sees that tiny bump grow
A/N: I'm backkkkkk with Dark!Reader and Dark/Mafia!Carlos
Warning: Baby trapping
Carlos groans as he slides out of you, your legs shake, as Carlos leans over you, smirking at you. "Look how pretty you are," Carlos groans.
You whine, feeling his cum leak out of you, his fingers shoving it back in, licking his lips. "Carlos,' You whine, unable to take anymore. Your body covered with his marks and proof that you belong to him. "Shhh, you're okay baby girl." Carlos chuckles placing soft kisses on your hips as he pulls his fingers out.
"Do you want a shower?" He asks, and you know what's going to happen next. He's going to dot on you, fill you with food, and then kick you to the curb, but not this time, you refuse to let him walk away from you. He might belong to Carlos, be he never saw himself as yours, will that was going to change.
"Bath?" You make your eyes big and pout, which has him roll his eyes but he agrees. His head pops out and you see the way his eyes narrow, "You took your birth control, right?" You blink and nod your head looking the perfect picture of innocence. "Show me," You roll your eyes, of course in your head.
If you did it outwardly, he'd throw you over his lap and your ass would be bleeding from the spankings. Pulling out your packet, you show him the correct missing pills, but unknown to him, it hasn't been you swallowing the pills, but the toilet. Your little secret. "Good girl," Kissing the top of your head, in all his naked glory heads back into the bathroom. Yeah, he was going to be yours.
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"Two glasses of red wine, the best," Carlos waves his hand but you stop the waiter. "Actually, glass of lemon water please, and please make sure none of my dishes have alcohol in them." You smile sweetly, the young waiter blushing and rushes off, as Carlos looks you over.
"Why the no wine?" To anyone, it'd be an innocent question, but with the way Carlos was holding the menu you knew he was furious at you taking charge, normally you let him order for you. "It's bad for the baby, or so the doctor said," You drop the news casually, raking your eyes over the menu. Glass shattering, as you tense, slowly looking up Carlos holds a murderous fire in his eyes that has you shrinking in size.
"Baby? Who else have you been fucking," He spits, and suddenly feeling dirty you place the menu down and stand up. "It's yours, I've only been sleeping with you, since the beginning," Carlos's eyes are wide as he stands on shaking legs, "What," You sniffle and wipe your eyes. "Find me when you grow up," Turning you smile a little to yourself feeling proud. Yes, Carlos was going to yours.
-------------------
It was driving you insane.
It was finally warm enough to be at his pool, and Carlos was in his office but you knew he wasn't doing the work that he needed to be doing. Wearing a bikini you were enjoying the sun, your bump finally showing and ever since he noticed it, he hasn't stopped staring.
Looking up you see Carlos, who quickly turns around and you smirk. Standing you make your way to the kitchen, as a craving for some fresh fruit was your current fixation. Carlos picked that up and the staff made sure the best of the best was there for you.
Moaning as you bite into a peach you turn almost screaming as Carlos leans against the door frame smirking. "God, you look amazing," Blushing under the complement you look away, biting into the peach. "You're lucky I enjoy seeing you pregnant with my child, if it was anyone else, I would've tossed them to the side. You look so gorgeous in fact, I'll forgive you for doing this on purpose.
Eyes growing wide you open your mouth, but close it as he was standing in front of your face now. "Look at you, so gorgeous and filled with my child, I'll have to keep you like this forever," Freezing, Carlos leans down and takes a bite out of your peach and smirk. "Sweet," He whispers before kissing you gently and placing a soft hand on your bump. "Hmm, always so sweet," Carlos pulls away and dissapears into the shadows of the house.
"Oh, I'm fucked."
#f1#formula 1#f1 fandom#formula one#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 x y/n#f1 scenario#f1 smut#f1 fics#dark!carlos sainz#mafia!f1#f1!mafia#mafia!carlos sainz#warning:dark content#carlos sainz junior#carlos sainz jr#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz 55#carlos sainz x you#cs55#cs55 x reader#cs55 imagine#cs55 fluff#carlos sainz blurb#carlos sainz oneshot#carlos sainz one shot#cs55 x you#cs55 fic
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Ummm, how about price sabotaging the dates that the reader goes to
he would never do such a thing…
PT 5 😋
ExHusband!Price x f!reader
*im so shy at writing smut plz b patient ._.
“John, I really can't talk right now.”
“Who is he?”
You close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. You knew better than to talk about your plans around the children.
“He's just...” You sigh, unable to lie to him even though you wanted to. “His daughter is on Gabriel's soccer team.”
The line is silent.
“…John?
“Have you been seeing each other for a while, then?”
“This is none of your-”
“How long have you been seeing him?” John reworded his question, sounding more stern than casual.
You don’t need to tell him anything. It’s been a month since the two of you kissed outside of your oldest child’s school, and that was an accident.
“It’s our first date.” You mumble your admission.
John grunts, as if he’s finding the news amusing.
You look over yourself in the mirror, suddenly feeling anxious. Shaking hands smooth over your little black dress, you run your fingers through your hair.
God, why does he still have this effect on you?
“Where’s he takin’ you?” John asks casually. “That little Italian place you like?”
You roll your eyes at this, picking your phone back up from where it was laying atop your vanity.
“I’m hanging up now.” You huff. “Tell the kids I love them.”
You didn’t give John a chance to say anything else before ending the call.
•••
The ambiance of the Italian restaurant is warm and inviting, with soft lighting and a gentle murmur of conversation. You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort from your phone call with John.
Tonight is about moving forward. For leaving your past in the past.
Your date, Matt, smiles at you across the table, his dark eyes twinkling in the low light.
"I'm really glad you agreed to go out with me," he says, his voice warm and genuine.
You return his smile, feeling grateful for his patience and understanding even after the several times you’d turned him down.
You were too busy, Linnie was sick, you had to go in to work…
You were hung up on John.
"Me too," you say softly.
As you delve into conversation, the outside world fades away. The past is in the past.
For the first time in a long while, you weren’t thinking about John.
Just as you start to lose yourself in the moment, a familiar voice interrupts from behind you.
“Mummy!”
Your heart sinks as you see John, that smug grin playing on his lips. On either side of him were your children, wide-eyed and excited, each clutching one of his hands.
"Daddy said we're having a fancy dinner!" your youngest exclaims, bouncing with enthusiasm as they approach your table.
Your stomach churns with disbelief as you try to comprehend what's happening. "John, what are you doing?" you demand, your voice tight with frustration.
He shrugs, his expression unapologetic. "The kids wanted to go out for dinner," he says casually, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
You glance at Matt, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. "I'm so sorry," you murmur, mortified by the scene unfolding before you. “This is my-”
“John Price,” John reaches out to shake hands with your date, “Ex husband. SAS.”
“Uh… Matt.” Your date introduces himself, looking to you in confusion.
“I’m so sorry…” You squeeze your eyes closed, trying not to cry out of pure frustration. “I didn’t know he was going to do this.”
“Where’s our chairs?” Your oldest looks at you, noticing your table only had a seat for you and your date.
“We’ll be right over here, buddy.” John smiles, guiding the kids to the table next to your own.
It had a folded card on top that read “Reserved”.
This wasn’t a spur of the moment stunt.
John knew about your date and planned on crashing it all along.
You glance helplessly at Matt, feeling a pang of guilt for dragging him into this mess.
To your surprise, he reaches out to squeeze your hand, a small smile on his lips.
“Maybe we should go,” he says gently.
You nod, grateful that he’s so… understanding.
The two of you stand, and before you leave you stop by John’s table to give each of the kids a kiss on the cheek and let them know that you’ll see them tomorrow. You don’t even glance at John.
•••
“I had a really good time tonight,” Matt smiles as the two of you stand on your doorstep.
You hardly believe him; after John pulled that stunt at the restaurant, you were sure Matt would completely lose interest in pursuing this any further…
But to your surprise, he tried to make sure you enjoyed the rest of the night. The two of you had an impromptu picnic at the park, got ice cream and he even bought you flowers.
Matt is so… Nice.
“I did, too.” You smile, looking at your date with a small blush on your cheeks.
The two of you stare at each other for a beat before Matt speaks again, shyly this time.
“I’d really like to kiss you, if that’s okay.”
“That won’t be happening, mate.” John announces in the now open doorway, a bowl of cereal in his hand.
“John-!”
“Oh…” Matt blushes, taking a step back. “You two are still living together..?”
“No, we’re not,” You explain desperately. “John, what the fuck are you doing here?!”
John shrugs, taking another bite of his late-night snack. “Kids missed their real beds. I have the emergency key.”
You glare at him. He smiles.
“I’ll, uh… I’ll call you, yeah?” Matt offers as he starts towards his car. “It was nice seeing you.”
“Have a good night, Mike.” John waves with a grin, knowing damn well his name is Matt, not Mike.
“You’re such a fucking asshole.” You grumble, pushing past him into the house.
“What? I was bein’ nice to him.” John plays innocent, pushing the door closed with his foot. “Wasn’t really your type, though.”
“What’re you talking about?” You frown, removing your earrings.
John smirks. “He has brown eyes.”
You look at him like he’s insane… because you fully believe that is.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You like blue eyes, lovey.” John says softly, setting the bowl on the coffee table in the living room. “Mad for ‘em. You’d chase a man out to the parking lot over a pair of blue eyes.”
You don’t say a word.
John takes the bouquet of tulips from Matt from your hands, looking them over. You just watch.
“Doesn’t he know you hate tulips?” He looks back up to you, an eyebrow raised.
“Don’t be an ass.” You mumble, taking them back. “How would he know that? This was our first date.”
“I knew by our first date.” John counters, his arms crossing over his chest. “Knew you wanted a white house with a garden in the back, a big bathroom with a claw tub, an engagement ring with a garnet or a pearl instead of an ‘ugly silver and diamond ring’… and a hundred blue-eyed babies.”
You look down at your tulips, then back up at John.
You hate that he’s right. That he knows you too well. That he always has.
“You still didn’t have to crash my date.” You mumble, sitting down on the sofa, laying the flowers down next to you.
“Couldn’t help it, love. I go after what I want.”
John’s familiar words made you feel something in the pit of your stomach… Something you couldn’t quite name.
You lean back on the sofa, lifting your foot to him.
John crouches down to help you remove your heels, gently setting them aside.
“So, how was he?” John murmurs, his hands creeping up under your dress and starting to slowly pull your panties down your thighs.
You lift your hips, making it easier for him. “He was nice…”
“Hm.” John shakes his head with a tut. “You’ve never liked the nice ones.”
You watch as your panties are now being pulled down around your ankles, John’s head near your knees. He looks up for a moment, waiting for your signal.
You run your fingers through his hair gently before pushing his head towards your sex.
John wasted no time pushing your dress up your thighs and pulling you closer to devour you like he was starving.
Something about John on his knees in front of you, your legs over his shoulders...
“You’re such an asshole,” You groan.
John pulls back, lifting his head from your wet, needy pussy. He’s teasing you out of revenge, you’re sure of it.
Your back arches, trying to get his mouth back where you want it, but John leans back a bit more.
“John,” You whine, desperately trying to push his head back down.
“What is it, lovey? Hm?” John asks softly, pushing his fingers into your entrance, slowly dragging them in and out as he looks up at you. “Tell me wha’ you want.”
“I want-” You bite back a moan. “I want you.”
“You have me, sweetheart. Always have.” John’s husky words sounded like poetry.
You nod, because he’s right.
It doesn’t take long for John to make you come; he still knows your body better than anyone ever will.
He presses a few gently kisses to the inside of your thigh before pulling back. He rubs your legs as you come down from your climax.
“Forgive me, lovey?” He asks smugly.
You nod, a small smile on your lips to go with your flushed cheeks and heavy eyelids.
“Good. Now c’mere, you never got that goodnight kiss.”
<< prev next >>
#call of duty#captain john price#captain john price x reader#captain price#john price#cod smut#captain price smut#cod headcanons#cod mwii#cod x reader#bravo six#cod mw2#cod mw3#price headcannon#captain price fluff#price headcanons#price x reader#cod x fem!reader#141 x reader#cod x you#x reader#exhusband!price#dad!price#141 headcanons#task force 141#18+ only
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“ accidents happen ” || tokyo rev.
synopsis: in which they discover you had their child and kept it from them all these years later.
pairing: bonten x fem!reader [ mikey, ran, sanzu ]
warnings: mature content ahead. MDI. mature language, crude humor, angst (if you squint really hard), deadbeat!bonten (unintentionally), not proof-read so there may be errors lol and i think that’s it :))
notes: i just want the drama >:) may make more parts, and even extend said headcannons into longer fics in the future, but wanted to post something quick for mother’s day. hope you enjoy!
When you disappeared off the face of the earth, MIKEY had never been the same. One fight. One argument that spiraled out of control, and you were just gone...
He had people looking for you for about a couple years, the trail ran cold after a while and he had half a mind to think you were dead. Up until he got intel of your whereabouts one morning during a meeting.
That man got up and left immediately.
He wasn’t accompanied with any of his men, only because he didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention in the broad daylight. Sure, him wearing a black hood, ball cap, and mask in a park didn’t really help him look inconspicuous but it at least concealed his identity enough for him to blend in. Mikey sat on a bench for a good forty minutes, anxious, making anyone who passed him shiver from his intense aura alone; even birds walked around him. After almost an hour of waiting, he began to feel frustrated. Perhaps, the intel was false. Just as he went to stand, already conjuring up ways to have Sanzu execute the idiot who wasted his time, he heard it.
Your voice. Seizing him, like a siren’s call.
His eyes were alert, darting around until they landed on your figure, spotlighted by the sun, like an angel descending from the heavens. You looked good, healthy. That was good. An array of emotions fought for their turn in Mikey’s heart—Relief, distress, anger, nostalgia. He couldn’t just pick one, especially when it came to you. As he watched from his spot, doing his best to not seem suspicious, he clocked the people you were approaching with excitement, your peppy stride as you waved at, what he presumed, to be mother and daughter.
However, his entire world turned upside down when the little girl extended out her arms towards you, and said “Mama!”
“Hello, my darling.~” You cooed, taking her into your awaiting arms from the woman, embracing the toddler tightly. “Mama missed you so much.”
“Missed you, mama!” was the child’s reply, followed by her giggles.
A bucket of cold water would’ve been better than this. Watching you converse with who he now assumes to be the babysitter, Mikey felt faint. Vision blurring, head pounding, heart clenching. You…you…no. There’s no way. You wouldn’t have moved on…you couldn’t have, not like this, not from him. You loved him, didn’t you? You still love him, didn’t you?
How could you…how could you?
Before he knew it, he started to follow you around. From the park, to the store, all the way back to your apartment. He already phoned some of the executives to start working in on the babysitter, and anyone else in your new found circle for information. He wanted answers. He needed them.
By the time you began fixing dinner, with your daughter laid down for a nap, you receive a knock at your door. Who could that be at this hour?
RAN was chilling outside the rendezvous spot for something the boss and a few other execs were participating in, having a smoke, minding his business, up until he sees a little girl with pigtails wearing a school uniform approaching, standing before him and just…staring. She barely came up to his thighs, could've been no older than seven. She was practically staring into his soul with bright lavender eyes that scarily reminded him of Rin’s when he was that age.
He stared back, head tilted as he blew out the smoke from the corner of his mouth. The hell was a kid doing on this side of town?
Then, after an uncomfortable staring contest, the little girl points at his cigarette. “My ma says those things are bad for you.”
Ran raised a brow, “Does she now?”
“Mmhm! She says it makes people unhappy.”
He offered a thoughtful nod, an amused grin spreading across his face. “Mm. Do I look unhappy?”
The girl looked at Ran for a minute, eyes squinted. Eventually, she shook her head. “No. But, ma also says people who are always unhappy get better at hiding it.”
Ran’s grin faltered. Her unwavering stare started to unnerve him, especially after hearing such a heavy statement come from such a small package.
After a brief moment of silence, he chuckled softly, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it away. He exhaled. “Smart woman.”
The little girl beamed, “Mmhm! My ma knows a lot of stuff.”
“Tsk. But not ‘Stranger Danger’, apparently.”
She tilted her head, curious. “Huh?”
“You shouldn’t be wandering around by yourself, let alone approaching someone you don’t know. ‘s not safe. Especially for nosy little girls who stick their noses in other people’s business. Your ma never taught you that?”
The little girl rolled her eyes, hands on her hips. “Duh. Of course she did. Everyone knows that rule,” she exasperated. Ran snorted, but yielded when she squinted at him, pointing as she sassed. “And I do so know you, so you’re not a stranger.”
This time, Ran couldn’t help the incredulous laugh. “Oh, you know me, huh? That’s not good. ‘m supposed to keep a low profile. Say, you ain’t a cop are you?” He teased, earning another eye roll.
“No. Too small to be a cop, dummy.”
“Oh, pardon me, I didn’t notice. Where do you know me from, then?”
The little girl pointed over to the building..where the executives were having their meeting. She beamed, “Ma’s works in there. On important people days she can’t get me from school, so she tells me to come straight here, and to not talk to the purple man that stands near the building. She says you’re mean.”
Ran smirked, then gave a half-hearted shrug.
“She also says you’re my pa. But, I never believed her. You’re too old.”
Ran’s smirk dropped.
Whether more from the first comment or the last, you decide. But, one thing was for certain: he needed another cigarette.
SANZU cackled watching some guy struggle to round up a couple of rowdy twins at the convenience store. One was knocking shit off the shelves while the other ran circles around the guy. It was what he needed for his bitch of a hangover, a good laugh to distract from the ache in his skull.
However, he wasn’t laughing for long when you came around the corner of the isle, holding a few items with a smile on your face that soon faded once you saw the scene unfolding before you; the pinkette thought he was still tripping balls. Blinking a few times to allow any after effects of the drugs to clear up, when you didn’t disappear he used his long legs to swiftly yeet behind one of the shelves, peering around it like some paranoid stalker. The last time you had spoken, you had threatened to castrate him with your teeth if you ever saw him again.
And he’d be damned if he tried your bluff.
He watched in awe as you straightened those twins up quick. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought they were trained to obey you, and only you. Any other authority be damned. While the guy was putting all the stuff back on the shelves, sweaty and out of breath, you gently reprimanded them for causing trouble. You still made that cute pouty face you always did whenever you were mad at him…
“What did we talk about earlier? Hm? Mr. Satoru was very kind to help mama today, you know. You two promised me you’d be on your best behavior for him.”
Sanzu gagged. This was the rebound you let nut in you? This huffy moron who can’t handle a couple of ankle biters, this was your king? He had half a mind to just gut the guy to put him out of his misery from that pathetic display from earlier, alone. He couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be back home. He remembers when he was that age—Rowdy, reckless, the Antichrist. Adorable, but deadly. God bless that poor bastard’s soul.
Wait…Mister? Not…dad?
The first twin whined, stomping their feet. “He’s too boringggg!”
Come to think of it…if Sanzu squinted…the longer he looked at the little family…he swore the more he saw the resemblance of himself in the tiny gremlins. From the hair, to the eyes, all the way down to the mannerisms…Hang on. When had been the last time you two fucked? Three…no, was it four years ago?
The second twin huffed, pointing at the man. “Yeah! And he’s jus’ being nice so that he can sleep in your bed, mama!”
You flushed, nervously chuckling as you looked around to make sure no one heard. Sanzu ducked behind a bag of chips, now nothing but eyes peeking through the gaps of food on the shelf.
So…that loser’s not the father? Then…could that mean..?
“He’s mama’s boyfriend, remember? He’s allowed to do that. And he’ll be around for a while, so I want you two to be nice, okay?”
“…okay, mama.” They grumbled.
Sanzu almost popped a blood vessel, fist clenched around a bag of Lays and nearly busting it. He chuckled darkly, “Oh. We’ll see about that.”
© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved.
likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!
#🍁wasabi#happy mom day :] !!#tokyorev#tokyo revengers#tokyorev x reader#tokyo rev angst#tokyo rev fluff#tokyorev fluff#tokyo rev headcanons#tokyorev headcanons#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo rev#tokyo rev imagine#tokyo rev x reader#bonten x reader#bonten#mikey x reader#ran x reader#sanzu x reader
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Sweet, Wonderful You
summary | Aemond finds himself pleased with his new wife.
pairing | newlywed aemond targaryen x wife!reader
tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, oral (f), semi-public, spanking, hot hot sex, arranged marriage, fingering, Aemond Has Feelings, lots of fluff and marital bliss <3
wordcount | 5.6k
note | if i had a penny for every time Aemond was up to no good in a tent, i'd only have two pennies, but it's weird that it’s happened twice!
likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!
(divider by @zaldritzosrose)
There was a slight rattle upon the earth when the hunting party returned with a thunderous arrival. Cheers and applause greeted the group of a hundred or so men, composed of noble lords, young squires, and knights to keep them all guarded in the woods. The hounds raced with the horses, barking at their feet. They had returned successfully after a full day and a half of hunting the prized stag, having departed a night before the rest of the royal party.
Among the cluster, three heads of silver hair held a stark contrast from the rest. They rode straight to the center of the camp, stopping just before the royal tents. You stood with the Queen and your good sister, Helaena, who held a green little creature in her palm. Your fingers were wrung together anxiously as the princes dismounted their horses. One by one, Prince Aegon and Prince Daeron handed off their horses to the keepers, before coming over to greet their family, followed by your new husband, the one-eyed Prince Aemond.
The King’s second son spotted you almost immediately upon returning to camp, keeping his good eye on you until he beckoned his horse to a halt. As he walked over, you felt a warm tinge in your cheeks when his good eye raked over your form. Your husband extended a hand to you when he was close enough, to which you hastily removed your glove to place your smaller palm in his. He dipped his head to press a kiss to your knuckles, greeting you, “Dear wife.”
“Well done, my prince. I was told of your great skills in hunting the stag,” you praised him. Behind his tall figure, you can see the beast being dragged away, blood staining the better half of its neck. You can feel the stares of onlookers around you, no doubt wanting to catch a glimpse of the newlyweds together. Your husband merely hummed, offering you a quip of a smile.
"I was lucky, nothing more," Aemond said with a little bit of humility. The queen urged everyone to head inside the warm tent as the breeze began to lap at your faces with a sharp chill, the day slowly starting to dim. The prince took your hand and placed it on his elbow, turning his head to examine the dress you wore. It was a dark red, embellished with dragons of black thread, completed with a black underskirt and a dark fur trim along its neckline. A true Targaryen garment, paired with black fur-lined gloves your husband had given you before he left for the hunt.
"Thank you for coming to greet me, my lady. You look lovely," he complimented, making you blush. It wasn’t often the prince would unleash compliments so openly, and in the short period you have been together, you had been bestowed mostly with formal and terse praises, this was a first. You ran a hand down your skirts shyly, happy to find your husband pleased with your attire.
“Do you like it? It was a gift from Dragonstone. Your sister had written of her regret of not being able to come to the celebrations. Her being with child had prevented her from traveling, it seems,” you informed him. From your touch on his elbow, you feel your husband tense up. This immediately wiped the smile off your face, glancing up at him in slight worry of what you had said something to gain this reaction. His good eye blinked before his lips pursed, letting out another low hum.
“Half-sister.”
“W-what?”
“Rhaenyra, she is my half-sister,” Aemond corrected. You all but blanched at the return of his cold and distant tone, mentally kicking yourself for having forgotten the strife between King Viserys’ children. You didn’t miss the way when he mentioned her name, almost jeering.
“Right, of course,” you chuckled awkwardly, before caressing his bicep with your other hand. Your husband led you into the tent, greeted by lords and ladies alike, who uttered praises of the pair of you making such a handsome couple. ‘Good fortune shall come to this union!’ and ‘Your marriage shall ever be fruitful!’ they praised, and you thanked them graciously with a smile. Aemond let you entertain your guests, who had traveled from all over the Seven Kingdoms to witness the marriage of the royal prince and his lady.
Somehow, you managed to make your way to where the Queen sat with her father, the Lord Hand. They bore satisfied smiles on their faces, and you approached them with your husband, an equally bright smile on your features.
“This has been the most splendid affair! The gods have been kind,” Alicent said, visibly pleased. Aemond expressed his word of thanks to his mother, before exchanging a courteous nod with his grandfather.
“Yes, they have,” you spoke softly, turning your head to look at your dragon prince. “They’ve kept my husband out of harm’s way, for that I am glad.”
Otto held a satisfied smile on his face at your words, pleased with having orchestrated this union. It was by his doing that your father had been called to court to sit on the King’s council, and with the highly revered lord’s arrival to the Red Keep, he brought with him his only daughter, seven and ten years of age. You had been given the role of a lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena, joining the handful of other royal ladies that accompanied the princess.
Aemond always knew he would marry for duty. To whom, he knew naught, up until he heard of you. It was determined that you shall be wed to the prince upon the endorsement from Otto Hightower to the King, though your father had asked for the marriage to happen after you turned eight and ten. Aemond had caught glimpses of you with Helaena and her ladies, but had never sought you out himself. He wasn’t one to meddle with his sister’s activities with her group, with their singing, sewing, and all of their giggling, but the few times he had seen you he thought you the most handsome out of all of them. A shy little thing you were, never boisterous or commanding. The princess often asked you to be her sole companion most days, when she had grown tired of being surrounded by different voices and faces. Helaena had expressed her delight after learning of your and Aemond’s nuptials, happy to see her favorite lady and her favorite brother together.
He was pleased with this union, to say the least. You were quite the beauty, graceful, and well-equipped with the knowledge of history and philosophy, as well as the talent for playing the harp. He considered himself lucky not to be stuck with a woman he would not agree with in ego, like a Lannister. As meek as you were, you still possessed wit, but of an unassuming kind. The prince courted you for 4 moons, gracing your days with his presence as he accompanied you on walks through the royal gardens, sat with you in the library while you both read, and visited you in Helaena’s chambers when the rest of her ladies were dismissed. On your nameday, he had gifted you with an exquisite set of jewelry, a pair of earrings and a necklace of sapphire. He took quite an interest in you, despite his usual stoic expressions. Aemond was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve, and as much as he tried to ignore it, to be graced by the sight of you became a part of his days, and dreams of you filled his nights. However, despite all the time you had spent together, it was difficult to move past the formalities, especially with your interactions being heavily chaperoned and coupled with your timidness around the prince and Aemond's stiff demeanor. It turned out that Aemond's mastery of history and philosophy failed to equip him with the expertise of courting a woman.
Much to his dismay, the prince felt he had barely scratched the surface of you after four moons, but he considered it no matter, for he had a lifetime to explore your every facet.
One thing he did learn, however, was how you turned flustered so easily at his words, and how he reveled in making a beautiful woman blush.
On the night of your nuptials, Aemond had seen a shift in your usual doe-like eyes to something lush. The prince was grateful for having been granted his request to forego the bedding ceremony. You had made such pretty sounds for him, from the moment he sucked his first mark on your neck, to when your plush bosom was exposed to the dark room, up to when he stretched you out on his fingers, and ultimately, his cock. To have shared this moment with the debauched eyes of the others would be a great disgrace, and Aemond felt prideful of having witnessed such a reaction in his new wife. He saw a heady tinge glaze over your eyes when you had first spilled on his fingers, your confidence growing as you dug your nails into his shoulders while he thrust his hips into your weeping cunny.
The morning after, his lady wife greeted him with a bashful smile, sweet as always. The evidence of your consummation merely existed in the marks on your neck and the blood-stained sheet discarded on the floor. On your second night, you had offered yourself to your husband, despite the terrible ache in between your thighs, but Aemond graciously declined, not wanting to have his wife too sore on the royal hunt that was to follow.
As the night went on and the nobility began to disperse from the royal tent to retire to their accommodation, Aemond found himself in his own pavilion, thinking about you. For the sake of propriety, you had been placed in a separate tent from your husband. He had bathed himself clean from the muck that clung to his pale skin, and changed into his night clothes to retire after almost two days of rigorous hunting. However, in the warmth from the small fire in his tent, Aemond felt a strange twinge in his chest. He felt the need to see you, perhaps even share the bed for the night. Aemond thought himself ridiculous, especially with the slight air of formality that still lingered between the two of you, but was a pull he felt, an odd need to be around you. And in the dead of night, the one-eyed prince, in all his formality and adherence to standards, let his feet guide him out of his tent to make the small walk towards yours.
Your handmaiden was brushing your hair after helping you change into your nightgown when you heard a low voice through the tarp of your accommodation. You recognize it as your husband’s, and you had bid him to enter without hesitation. The maidservant made quick work to finish brushing your hair, before leaving with a bow when Aemond had entered. You turned to your prince, rising from your seat to greet him with a soft smile. The surprise on your face was evident, not expecting him to seek you out so late in a somewhat public environment. Perhaps he had a matter to discuss, one that could not wait until the morn.
Gods, was it about the dress?
“Is something the matter, lord husband?” you asked him. In the dim flicker of light from the small fire you had requested in your tent, Aemond’s good eye ran over the swell of your breasts, accentuated by the shadows. The prince cleared his throat, crossing his hands on his lower back.
“Should there be a matter at hand for me to see my wife?” he asked rhetorically. You blushed, flustered for having asked such a question.
“Of course not,” you chuckled sheepishly, before approaching to hold him by the elbows, beckoning him to the fire. “Come.”
Your husband walked around the tent, studying the arrangements made for your accommodation. You walked over to the makeshift vanity they had provided, rubbing some oil into the ends of your hair to finish your nightly routine.
“You were treated well in my absence, I hope?” Aemond spoke up. You turned to find him settled on the edge of your cot, leaning his weight on his palm.
“Oh, yes. Everyone has been kind... though quite curious I must say,” you answered, wiping away the residue on your fingers. Aemond raised an eyebrow at your words.
“About?”
You bit the inside of your cheek at his question, recalling the incessant prodding of the ladies of the court to learn more of how your husband has been thus far. You tried to answer the queries to the best of your abilities, though avoiding indulging too much in your husband’s private matters. That proved to be quite difficult, because the questions they asked the most were about his abilities in the marriage bed.
“About us. H-how our first night was and the like,” you stammered. You had no intent to lie to your husband, especially not so early in your marriage, but it still flustered you to discuss such matters. The corner of your husband’s lips quirked up in a smirk, and his eyebrow stayed raised as he continued to question you about the court’s inquisitiveness.
“And? What did you tell them?” He urged. Your fingers fiddled with the fringes of your robe, an anxious habit. You bit your lip while your cheeks turned pink, your mind struggling to find the words.
“I told them it was quite… satisfactory,” you admitted, to which your husband responded with a hum.
“Satisfactory?”
“Well, I couldn’t really say much with your mother listening close by!” You all but squeaked, earning a low chuckle from the prince. He nodded his head slightly, satisfied with your answer. He rose from the cot, walking over to where you stood. Your head tilted up slightly as Aemond loomed over you, his good eye darkened to a dark amethyst from the lack of illumination in the tent. His smirk never fell, amused with how quickly you had grown flustered.
“And what did you really think about our first night, princess? Was it indeed satisfactory?” He asked. Your eyes tore away from him, unable to bear the weight of his gaze. They shifted around the room warily, focusing on anything but his piercing gaze, before giving him a meek nod. Two of his fingers lifted your chin back up to look at him, and he tilted his head slightly, raising his eyebrow to silently urge you to use your words. By your sides, your hands curled the fabric into your tight fists.
“Y-yes… more than that,” you admitted, warmth spreading all over your face up to the tip of your ears. Aemond merely hummed, his good eye raking over your features in thought.
To say your wedding night was satisfactory was a great understatement. As a girl, you had been taught whatever happened in the marriage bed was to be done under the grace of the Seven and with the utmost delicacy, it was your duty after all. To indulge in anything else would be a sin, and my, what a sweet sin it was. Your lord husband had managed to spurn sounds from you that you had never heard from your own lips. You had never been so overcome with such fire, such pulsing desire. He had touched you in ways that would have your Septa gasp in horror.
You had expected pain and a husband who would only do so much to get himself to spill his seed in your womb, yet there was little of that. Prince Aemond may not be the image of a romantic prince from the fairytales of your girlhood, but he had shown you a fire only a dragon can possess. He was as prolific of a lover as he was a scholar, and for a moment you had wondered how many women he had touched, licked, and sucked the way he did with you in order to become such a master in this art, though it mattered little. You were his woman now, and he was welcome to devour you however he liked.
Your husband prepared you for what felt like hours, scissoring his deft fingers in your sweet cunt, his lips sucked on the stiff buds of your breast relentlessly, up until you were covered with a sheen of sweat before he finally took hold of your thighs and split you open with his cock.
He made you a quivering mess that night, spilling on his fingers and his cock beautifully. You were in awe at your own body’s response to his touch, your mind grew hazy the further you lost yourself in the throes of pleasure. When you had returned to your senses, he had wiped you clean and threw the furs over your naked body.
After having been exposed to him in the intimate enclosure of your marital chambers, you had wished to be kept in your new husband's embrace when you slept, but cordiality soon returned between the two of you. It was almost as if the events that had just passed were merely a dream, a fleeting expulsion of desire, and the night ended with you and Aemond lying on separate sides of the mattress.
The morning after, the quivering ache of your thighs served as a keepsake of your wedding night, and as much as you struggled to walk through the halls of the Keep, you found yourself craving more. On your second night, you had offered yourself to your prince, in hopes of being consumed by such fire again. To your dismay, your husband had refused, mostly because he watched you walk around with a slight limp all day and didn’t wish to put you in a further state of discomfort. On the third night, with Aemond having already departed for the hunt, you laid alone in your marital chambers, left to thoughts of your dragon prince.
Now, on your fourth night, your husband stood before you, his thumb caressing the plump flesh of your bottom lip. From his proximity, you could see how his pupil began to dilate, black threatening to overtake purple.
“Are you still sore?” He asked in a low whisper. You shook your head lightly, careful not to shake off his grip, before whispering a soft ‘no’. With your words, his good eye flickered to meet your gaze for a second, before returning to your mouth. His head dipped down, capturing your lips in a kiss. You sighed, secretly in relief, at the feeling of his mouth upon yours once again. You let him guide you, following his pace as his tongue dipped into your cavern. The kiss was gentle, but getting your fill after going without his caress for two days made you breathless almost instantly.
The both of you pulled away, and Aemond was tantalized at the sight of you. There it was, the change in your gaze. A look akin to hunger glazed over your orbs, and a flush ran across your cheek to the tip of your nose, your pink lips glistened with spit. He descended his lips onto your neck, replacing the fading marks on your neck with new ones. A soft whimper left you when your prince sucked on a spot that almost had your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. You softly caressed the back of his head, feeling the silky strands of silver under your fingertips.
Decency nagged in the back of your head, reminding you that despite the privacy provided by the pavilion, the thin tarp would do little to conceal any sound that would indicate to the guests your activities.
“Aemond…” you breathed out. Your husband hummed against your skin, the vibrations of his voice shooting down straight to your core. “S-should we be doing this here?”
Aemond lifted his head, pressing his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes as the warmth he exuded engulfed your entire being. “I do not see why not. We are alone, dear wife.”
“People will hear,” you reasoned. Your eyes opened to find him looking at you with an impish smirk, a sight so roguish in contrast to the formal prince you once knew.
“Let them hear. Why don’t we let them all know how diligent we are in doing our duty, hm?” He said, pulling away from you. You let him walk you backward, sitting on the edge of the cot when the back of your knees hit the wooden frame. Aemond bent to recapture your lips, his hand wandering down to cup your clothed breast. With frantic hands, you untied the robe covering your nightgown, shrugging it off to discard it off to the side. You had donned more modest apparel compared to the one you wore on your wedding night, sleeves much longer than the frail straps of the nightgown he had first seen you in. Still, the cotton was almost sheer, and the dark rings of your nipples were visible even in the dim light.
Next, you pulled Aemond’s tunic from his breeches, helping him pull off the garment. When he bent down to kiss you once more, your hands slithered to the back of his head. Your fingertips toyed with the clasp holding his eyepatch in place with the intention of taking the leather off, but his hand quickly covered yours, halting its ministrations.
“No,” was all he said. Aemond straightened back to his full height, looking down at you from the tip of his aquiline nose. You visibly gulped at the commanding aura that seemed to surround him, making you feel submissive, completely pliant to his will. Your thighs squeezed together to soothe the ache in your throbbing core, watching his long fingers untie the laces of his breeches. Before you were granted the sight of his long, beautiful cock, he grabbed either side of your waist to urge you to lie on your stomach. Your dragon grabbed a pillow, placing it underneath your abdomen to prop your hips up. Your heart thumped in anticipation, and your breath hitched in your throat when you felt the cool air kiss your rear when he lifted the hem of your nightgown. His large, calloused hands took hold of either cheek, spreading and squeezing the supple flesh of your rear. In between, your cunny started to glisten, tears of arousal dripping from your slit.
A gasp left your lips when you feel his tongue swipe a hot strip down your opening, hearing him groan as he tasted your essence. He bestowed more licks to your cunt soon after, dipping into your slit to test. You pressed your face into the sheets in an attempt to muffle your whines, but in suppressing your responses, your hips started to squirm restlessly the more his tongue prodded at you. A squeal, one a little too loud to your liking, escaped you when your husband’s hand smacked your rear.
“Stay still,” he ordered, before diving back into your sweet cunt. You fisted the sheets in your hands, biting your lips hard when Aemond began fucking you with his tongue. The hot, wet muscle breached your walls deep in this position, much deeper than the first time. Breathless moans fell from your lips at the sensation of his mouth on your cunt, the act so utterly sinful and debauched. To your knowledge, you had never heard of any husband doing such a thing to his wife, more often than not hearing of the wife doing it to her husband instead. You silently thanked the gods for having bestowed you a husband unlike the others, a prince who took pleasure in giving you yours.
A particularly loud moan filled the space when two of your husband’s fingers replaced his tongue, preparing you for his cock. Aemond stood back tall, his purple eye trained on the way your cunny swallowed his fingers, and the imprint of his hand that started to redden on your arse. You subtly moved your hips back to meet his hand, desperate for more.
“My, look at you, dear wife. I always thought you were a prim little thing, but here you are, fucking yourself on my fingers, moaning like some common whore,” he remarked. You whined at his words, embarrassment creeping up your spine, though you cared little, not when your lustful cravings for your husband clouded your mind. You craned your head to meet Aemond’s gaze from your position, catching the way he smirked out of the corner of your eye.
“Do you like it that much?” He asked, to which you nodded eagerly. You softly pleaded, ‘Please, husband’, and Aemond grunted in response.
“What is it you want, princess?”
You propped yourself on an elbow, turning to face him, still on your stomach. Your eyes slightly widened to find his cock already exposed. He had been softly stroking it while fucking you with his fingers, evidently overcome with as much desire as you were. Now, his length sat heavy in his hand while he awaited your answer, tip flushed a deep red while it weeped a clear liquid.
“I want you, Aemond, all of you,” you made known. The prince let out another hum, before pulling his fingers out. You felt the mattress dip as he kneeled on the bed, caging you in between his legs. He propped himself on a hand by your side, the other holding his cock to line himself with your slit. Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt the blunt end of his cockhead press against your slit, letting out a whine when he breached your opening. His chest pressed against your back, the weight of his body on yours a welcome comfort. The prince’s breath was hot against the side of your face, and his deep groan echoed directly into your ear. He slid into your cunt inch by inch, tight walls hugging his length perfectly. He cursed under his breath when he finally bottomed out, lips pressing a kiss to your cheek as his nose nuzzled to inhale the scent of your sweet flesh.
“Gods above,” he groaned. His hips started to move with small, slow thrusts, still letting you adjust to the size of his impressive length. You whimpered, pressing your forehead against the bed while Aemond panted in your ear. “Such a tight fucking cunny. Perfectly made to take my cock, hm?”
“Yes, husband, it is all yours,” you moaned. As your walls started to relax, Aemond gained more space to thrust his length in and out of you. His pace began to pick up, the fabric of his breeches rubbing against your rear as his hips drove forward to meet yours. His cockhead kissed the tip of your cervix, causing a wave of pleasure to spread in your lower belly.
Hearing Aemond’s grunts in your ear only spurned your arousal further. With his body covering yours, you felt him everywhere, from his breath that hit the side of your face, the fine hairs of his chest tickling the skin of your back, and the slapping of his hips against your plump flesh as he drove his cock into you relentlessly. His large hand crept up to intertwine with yours, holding your smaller hand tightly. The cot’s wooden frame began to creak at the sheer force of his thrusts, your body jerking as he fucked you mercilessly. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip to bite back the sobs that threatened to escape you, but your head was turned to the side to meet Aemond’s eager lips. He swallowed down the desperate moans that reverberated from you, before pulling away to press his damp forehead against the side of your burning cheek.
His name fell from your lips like a prayer, reverent and faithful, as your husband hurled you closer to your release. Aemond felt your walls start to tighten back up, pulsing, indicating the beginning of your release. His free hand sneaked in between your front, finding your pearl to stimulate. The circles rubbed on your nub only served to tighten the coil in your belly that threatened to snap, and your eyes clenched shut as your husband rendered you witless.
“Are you going to come for me, sweet wife?” He rasped in your ear. A chorus of whiny yesses fell from your lips, followed by more sobs.
Aemond felt a hot lick of pleasure deep within his belly, indicating his own climax was fast approaching. He drove his cock even harder into you, the pads of his fingers rubbing your clit at a lightning speed that began to cramp his forearm. He paid it no mind, determined to have you fall apart first. Your walls pulsed uncontrollably, squeezing and massaging his cock. Your nipples rubbed against the pillow underneath you, and with a particularly harsh thrust, you fell apart on Aemond’s cock.
Your release washed over you like the tide, rendering you lightheaded as you spilled around your husband’s length. He continued to fuck you through your orgasm, chasing his own end. Your legs bent to kick upwards as you began to squirm in overstimulation, though Aemond’s weight on your body prevented you from moving away. With one more thrust, then two, Aemond’s cock twitched in your cunt, before painting your walls with hot, white dragonseed.
After he emptied his fill into your womb, your husband slumped in exhaustion, lying on top of you with his sweaty forehead pressed against your shoulder. Both of you took a moment to catch your breath, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking. You remained lying prone, eyes closed, as Aemond pulled out of you. You felt the mixture of your juices spill from your slit, whining when he pushed it back into your sensitive core with his finger.
You opened your eyes to watch him walk off to grab a clean cloth to clean you with, pouring some water from a jug to soak the fabric. The damp material felt cool against your hot skin, still sheened with sweat. You shifted to lie on your back, turning to look at Aemond as he cleaned himself off. Your eyes ran down the ripple of fine muscle down his back, tracing the way his form tapered at the waist with your gaze.
“Will you stay?” You whispered, making him look at you. His good eye studied you, with your flush face and glistening skin. You looked at him with a gaze that made him feel warm inside, a feeling so strange and new.
“Do you want me to?” He responded, to which you nodded yes. Throwing the rag on a basket, Aemond walked back to the cot, settling under the furs that you pushed back for him. Hesitantly, he lifted his arm to wrap around you, and you snuggled into his embrace without him having to ask.
It was quite pleasant, he realized, to have a wife to hold in his arms. And as you drifted off, he caressed your back soothingly, planting soft kisses on your forehead that you didn’t feel in your slumber.
It was past the hour of the wolf when a sudden strong breeze in the night air drifted through the tent, causing you to stir awake to snuggle further into your husband’s warmth. A comforting warmth sparked in your heart to be in such a position, never having expected the prince to be one to cuddle at night. A satisfied sigh left your lips, before they pressed a soft kiss to the base of his neck.
You tilted your head up to cast a glance at him, letting out a small gasp when you caught the twinkle of a gemstone lodged into your husband’s left socket. The sapphire glinted like a star, reflecting the dying embers of the fire. Slowly lifting your hand to his face, your thumb softly caressed the indent of his scar, in awe of such beauty. You thought back to when he refused to remove his eyepatch earlier in the night, and you wondered why he chose not to flaunt such a mesmerizing sight. He must have slipped off the leather patch when you had descended into slumber.
In the short period you had come to know your husband, you had learned the loss of his eye was a pain he held in his heart. The small details Helaena had divulged caused an ache in your heart for the young boy that he was, and you understood why he harbored such grievance. To catch a small glimpse of the sapphire, albeit unintentionally, felt like an intrusion on the deepest part of Aemond's core, a peek of the well-hidden display of all his true glory.
Aemond slightly stirred from your touch in his face, causing you to pull away lest you disturb his sleep. You leaned to press a light kiss to his jaw, before going back to sleep with an affection in your chest that would only grow as the days went by.
In the morn, Aemond returned to his tent just as the dawn broke through the horizon. Few began to litter around, mostly setting up for everyone to break their fast before they departed back to the Red Keep. He dressed for the day, donning a dark green doublet, embroidered with dragons of gold thread. Afterwards, he walked over and peeked into your tent, finding you having your hair fixed by your handmaiden, still clad in your shift. Aemond left to let you finish getting ready, walking over to where his family began to gather around. Daeron and Aegon were already in playful banter despite the early hour, while Helaena sat with their mother, playing with a beetle she had found in the grass.
“Brother!” Daeron greeted, slapping Aemond on the back. The second son let out a warning grunt, to which the youngest only responded with a grin. “Where were you last night? We tried to find you, but you weren’t in your tent. We wanted to celebrate your nuptials, brother, Aegon had even snuck some jugs of Dornish wine into his tent!”
“Ah, let him be, Daeron. He must have been taking a shit in the woods,” Aegon quipped, earning a hearty laugh from Daeron and a glare from Aemond. Alicent sighed, massaging her temples at hearing her son’s words.
“I was with my wife, Aegon. Perhaps you should check on yours,” Aemond retorted, eye glancing over to where their sister had wandered off to the trees to find more critters to add to her collection. The smile on Aegon’s face dropped, following his brother’s gaze.
“Boys, please, it is too early. Daeron, why don’t you come sit with me while Aemond fetches his wife? Aegon, don't let Helaena wander too far.” Upon their mother’s words, all three sons split up to walk off in different directions. Aemond walked back to your tent, just in time to catch you step out. His good eye slightly widened at the sight of you, beautifully dressed in a light blue garment of your homeland’s style. It was vastly different to the dress Rhaenyra had gifted you, but it suited you better. What caught his eye, however, was the shimmering jewelry paired to your dress. The gems of sapphire sparkled under the morning sun, sitting prettily on your chest and dangling from your ears. You gave Aemond a small smile, approaching him and planting a kiss on his cheek.
“Good morrow, lord husband,” you greeted him, caressing his cheek. Aemond muttered a greeting in return, still tantalized at how well you wore the stone. Pride swelled in his chest to see the marks he had left peek underneath the necklace, his possessiveness growing with well you wore the stone, clearly now marked as his.
“How beautiful you are, dear wife,” he praised, causing you to blush as you expressed your thanks. His eye regarded you with fondness, a softness in his gaze that previously wasn’t there. Taking his hand in yours, Aemond let you intertwine your fingers as you walked hand in hand to greet everyone. Your heart hammered in your chest as you felt the promise of something good coming to your marriage. You had never expected such delight to come your way when you were promised to the King’s second son, but as the days passed, you found yourself blossoming under the warmth of his presence. Indeed, good fortune shall come to your union.
#bella writes ✍️#this is queued#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen imagines#aemond targaryen smut#aemond fanfiction#aemond one eye#aemond smut#aemond targaryen#ewan mitchell#hotd x reader
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I come with wolfstar comfort thoughts <3
When you're sick remus is wonderful, he hates seeing you ill so he does everything he can to help: makes you tea, maybe some soup, gets you some meds and puts you on the sofa with a blanket and a pillow (sirius's chest)
Sirius on the other hand is less sure of what to do but he still wants to help so he let's remus tell him what to do, he's in charge of physical stuff like carrying you to the sofa (even if you're perfectly capable of walking) and being your human pillow while remus is busy in the kitchen, he's also tasked with moral support which mainly consists of stupid jokes and funny stories (he has many of james being a total drama queen when he got ill in the dorms)
I hope you feel better soon <3
-💫anon
poor Siri - I had a vision for this and now that it's written, I'm not sure I quite hit the mark, but let me know what you think! and thanks for your request <3
poly!wolfstar x sick!reader who they plan to nurse back to health
CW: fem!reader, cold/flu symptoms, brief passing mention of Sirius' childhood (no details), fluff
Sirius closed the door behind him and tossed his keys haphazardly into the dish that Remus insisted they go in, causing a loud clanging which echoed through the hallway.
He realised only then how quiet the flat was in comparison which was rather unusual for this time of day as you and Remus always managed to beat Sirius home.
Sirius felt some tension ease from his face (and body and soul) when he saw a familiar head of tawny curls over the back of the couch.
His plans for a surprise upside-down Spiderman style kiss - to what he had assumed was a sleeping Moony having fallen asleep reading a book - was foiled when Sirius came around the top of the couch to see you - looking particularly pathetic - curled up and resting your head in Remus’ lap fast asleep.
“Wha-?” Sirius asked dumbly, looking between Remus’ sad smile and your sleeping form - you seemed flushed and were breathing with your mouth open, likely because you couldn’t breathe from your nose.
“Hey Pads.” Remus offered quietly.
“What happened?”
Remus grimaced as he looked down at you and brushed some of your hair away from your face; you didn’t even stir. “I don’t think she ever made it to work today; I got home and found her on the couch.”
And Sirius could see that this was likely true, based on the vast amount of evidence that you’d been living on the sofa.
You’d tried to contain your used tissues to a paper bag but there were a few stragglers from where you no doubt lacked the strength to put much effort into aiming anymore. A half empty waterbottle and a bowl of soup with a layer of film on the top sat dejectedly on the coffee table along with a packet of Benilyn with a few missing tablets.
“Poor babydoll.” Sirius cooed as he rubbed Remus’ shoulder.
Remus turned to press a kiss to Sirius’ hand before gently lifting your head in order to stand.
“We’ll nurse her back to health in no time.”
Sirius felt his eyebrows furrowed as he watched Remus gently lower your head onto a throw pillow; still never managing to rouse you from your sleep.
“How do we do that?” Sirius asked.
Remus hummed as he made for the kitchen and Sirius followed him much like a lost puppy. “Well she needs lots of rest, and we should try to get her to eat before we give her anything to bring down her fever; she hardly ate any of the soup she made earlier. Maybe some Chamomile too. But I want to start by bringing her fever down.” He said with finality as he started puttering in the kitchen.
“What should I do?” Sirius asked like a child helping their parents in the kitchen; he felt worse than useless, he felt like he was in the way.
This is what happens when you don’t have a loving family; you don’t always know how to love - the verb to love, the action of loving someone.
Sirius feels love, he knows that much. He just doesn’t always know what to do with all of that love.
Luckily for him, he had two of the loveliest partners in the world to help him on that end.
Remus turned to smile softly at Sirius before leaning down to peck a kiss to his head. “Go change into some comfies and I’ll put you to work.”
And well, Sirius didn’t need to be told twice.
Officially donned in his favourite pair of sweats and a long sleeve band tee, Sirius returned to find Remus knelt in front of you on the couch as he whispered.
“I know, Dovey.” Sirius could hear Remus coo quietly as he approached. “Think you can try for me, though?”
You made a sound halfway between a groan and a sob as you pulled yourself into a seated position and accepted a cup of tea from Remus.
“Too much honey.” You protested meekly without even taking a sip; Sirius was sure he could smell the honey from where he was standing.
“It’ll help your throat, love.”
You groaned again but took a dutiful sip which earned you a beaming smile from Remus.
“I feel horrid.” You croaked, and Remus - god love him - managed to not grimace at the sound; Sirius was thankful he was stationed behind the sofa where you couldn’t see him, because he was not as gracious as your other boyfriend.
“I bet. When did you last take these?” Remus asked as he motioned towards the medication.
“It was early, I think around eleven.”
Remus hummed in acknowledgement as he stood from his crouched position. “You should be okay to have more once you’ve got something in your stomach, then. I’ll make soup, okay? Here Pads.” He pointed towards Remus’ now vacated spot on the couch.
Sirius offered you a sad smile as you turned to look at him. “When did you get home?” You queried.
Remus scoffed in response. “I’m surprised he didn’t wake you, sweet girl, the way he comes in and throws his shit everywhere.”
Sirius scoffed in faux offence. “I am very graceful, thank you very much.”
Whoever said laughter was the best medicine was a sodding liar, because though Sirius got what he had sort of wanted (which was to see you smile), your chuckle quickly turned into a coughing fit.
“Alright, that’s it.” Remus chided jokingly. “Sirius, lay here please.”
Sirius dutifully followed Remus’ direction and laid back on the sofa with his head resting on the arm and his legs spread, welcoming you into his arms as Remus encouraged you to lay back down with your head resting on Sirius’ stomach.
“Neither of you are to move until Y/N is better.” Remus ordered with severity no one truly believed.
“I hope she never gets better then.” Sirius harrumphed as he burrowed further into the sofa beneath him and rubbed loving strokes up and down your back as you wormed your hands around Sirius’ middle.
“That’s mean.” You pouted.
“I was just saying that to our tyrant, dolly; you get better but pretend you’re not so we can trick him into letting us stay like this forever, deal?”
“Deal.” You agreed with a sniffling sigh, causing Sirius to tsk in sympathy.
“My poor sweet girl, so poorly. S’breaking my heart.”
Sirius could feel the heat radiating from your forehead as you hid your face in his stomach.
“I feel a bit better now.” You barely got out without coughing.
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you, babygirl.” Sirius said with a sad chuckle.
“It’s true.” You insisted sleepily, turning your head again so that your cheek was pressed against Sirius as you looked up somewhat dopily at him. “It’s always better when you guys are here.”
And you were likely a little loopy from your fever, feeling more than vulnerable in your current state, and sufficiently doted upon by both Remus and Sirius; but Sirius couldn’t help but admit you were certainly onto something.
Sirius always felt better when the two of you were around too.
#marauders era#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#self insert#sirius black#remus lupin#sick fic#wolfstar#wolfstar x reader#wolfstar x you#poly!wolfstar#poly!wolfstar x reader#poly!wolfstar x you#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#sirius black x remus lupin#fem!reader#wolfstar hurt/comfort#poly!wolfstar fluff#poly!wolfstar imagine#poly!wolfstar blurb#ellecdc fics
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SV AU where transmigrator Shen Yuan and reincarnated PIDW Shen Jiu are the twin sons of one of Luo Binghe's prominent vassals. Specifically, a demon king of near-equivalence to Mobei Jun in terms of personal power, who has suffered the past couple of centuries due to a lack of influence on Luo Binghe's political decisions (no daughters to marry off to him, no personal relationship or ability to form one, so no clout at court).
But after PIDW Luo Binghe returns following the Bingge vs Bingmei extra, rumors begin to spread that his lordship might like to add a man or two to his harem. SJ & SY's dad smells an opportunity, and brings his sons to court. Demon Dad is sure to emphasize his sons' great scholarly pursuits, ethereal beauty, and impressive qi reserves.
Now of course, both Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan have different ideas of what is going on. Both of them think they're the only one with memories of a past life, and that their brother's oddities are a result of being an actual demon child (whereas they are, of course, weird for completely different reasons). Shen Yuan completely misses the subtext of what their father is trying to do (of course Luo Binghe wouldn't be interested in men, he's the stallion protagonist!), and is just excited for the chance to catch a glimpse of the legendary xin mo sword or see the hero in action, while also hoping to stay out of range of the death curse that befalls any guy who gets too close to the protagonist's aura. He also needs to keep his brother safe from that same effect, and ensure neither of them are accused of snooping around Luo Binghe's wives!
Shen Jiu, on the other hand, knows exactly what their father is trying to do and smells an opportunity to take revenge on the beast who killed Yue Qingyuan. He's spent years figuring out the demon emperor's weaknesses, both the physical kind and the kind uncovered via things like discontent wives and conquered enemies. Now he just needs to get close enough to his target actually use that information. Preferably before anything happens to his witless brother, who clearly has no idea that their father has just offered them both up to a terrifying monster like prime cuts of beef!
End result: Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu keep unintentionally getting in one another's way, while Luo Binghe himself has an existential crisis about these two guys who seem to embody both what he would expect from the reborn Shen Qingqiu he's been searching for, and that strange Nice Shizun that he actually experienced in the other world he stumbled across. But why are there two of him???
#svsss#scum villain's self saving system#scum villain#bingqiu#bingyuan#? possibly also:#bingjiu#shen jiu: deliberately trying to seduce & murder luo binghe#shen yuan: just being nice but it's super effective anyway#luo bingge: experiencing shrimp emotions
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Sorry one more thing I wasn't going to talk about but if you had asked me about the binational state/land thing maybe... in 2016, I might have given a somewhat positive answer but I think that since then, Israeli society has become exponentially more racist and anti-Palestinian. Since then we had the Abraham Accords, Sheikh Jarrah, Massafir Yatta, the highest child martyr count in years, and now finally a full blown genocide. Many Palestinians who previously advocated for equality in a single state look at all this, especially in recent months and think "how can I live side by side with these people?"
The vast majority of Israeli society is not against war for the sake of the Palestinians, they're against war for their own safety. They say as much. Hell, look at standing together. The founder guy says "our security is tied in with the Palestinians'". So if it wasn't tied with the Palestinians', you wouldn't care? And I get sometimes you need to introduce people to ideas gently, but their entire organization language emphasizes "shared pain" when there is an oppressor/oppressed dynamic they aren't even hinting at. How can anyone achieve safety if you won't even admit you have power over your Palestinian org members?
Even Brothers in Arms claims to want to "strengthen democracy" but they completely ignore Palestinians have never experienced democracy in "Israel". So what's the point strengthening your own standing when the most disadvantaged still are at rock bottom?? Plus your whole group represents the IOF reservists/members, you have no intention of helping Palestinians when you are the primary oppressors. And this is not an insignificant group in israel!
Not many Israelis are willing to put themselves on the line to protect or even advocate for Palestinians. I mean 7+ months into a genocide and what did israeli society do other than protest *netanyahu*? Hold up flour bags during the flour massacre??? The people serving in the idf are your friends and family and community. Tel Aviv is an hour away from Gaza. Surely you can do *something* physical!! They had people at their Gaza borders starving Palestinians on purpose and people just... watched it happen. Not to mention the IOF, which many Israelis are a part of, participates in the genocide and has been lauded for their "heroism". I look at that and I think "how can I expect you to seriously consider my rights as a person? How do I know you won't miss your old status and reclaim it?"
We've seen Israelis *celebrate* and *ridicule* our martyrs and people. So like where us the good faith in all this? Where can we work with some of these people and think "Yeah I believe they'll respect my inherent dignity as a person"?
Which binationalism relies on this. You need to have good faith between communities for this to actually happen. But when one community won't even acknowledge it's status as an oppressor at the height of oppression? Then what?
Israel as a country has never faced any retribution for its actions for 75 years. No one is holding them accountable. The country teaches propaganda in its schools about the Nakba. There is not serious consideration for Palestinian rights in Israeli society. Why would they suddenly decide to participate in a project that puts Palestinians as equal to Israelis when they learned all their lives that Palestinians are ruthless, unreasonable people who can't be reasoned with, and Israelis are logical, poor victims who are actually the ones who need protection from the Palestinians!
It just is mind boggling because I see people constantly complain about the way they hear things from Palestinians these days like "all Israelis need to leave". And they go on to say "why would you be so hateful/why would you say that" and don't think for a minute they're experiencing a televised genocide of their people (which they could have ended up in their shoes! People forget that Gaza has multiple refugee camps! Any one of us could have lived there!) And conversely are looking to Israeli society for them to do anything and they see nothing. At least think for a moment why they would say these things given the context of the situation. There's a genocide going on! And you're worried about what the people who are experiencing their people's genocide are saying because you're worried for the society conducting said genocide?? Let's deal with the matter at hand first!!!!!!
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A while ago I got under someone's skin for referencing Joker's surprising delayed reaction to killing Jason Todd, and since then I've been thinking it's worth digging into as an interesting element of Joker's characterization.
Of course, first thing's first: Jason's murder in Batman (1940) #427, as originally presented in 1988.
Jason has just reconnected with his biological mother, Sheila Haywood, at a famine relief camp in Ethiopia— and he's discovered that Joker is blackmailing her with information about her criminal past. She gets him truckloads of medical supplies to sell on the black market, and Joker restocks the trucks with toxin. While Bruce races to stop a tampered truck, Jason decides to help his mother on his own. When he discloses he's Robin, however, Sheila betrays him to Joker, not only to stay on Joker's good side but because she's actually been embezzling money from the organization she works for this whole time. She's afraid an investigation prompted by Batman and Robin's appearance would expose this fact.
So Sheila stands by as Jason is felled by Joker and his goons, and then the crowbarring starts.
It's bad! When we return later, Jason is presumably dead.
While Joker isn't shocked that he's murdered a child, he does have an unexpected reaction to Sheila's point. He hadn't really been thinking about what he was doing, implying that he hadn't intended to kill Jason. He just got carried away, whoopsie! He didn't do this to get at Batman; he wasn't thinking about Batman at all. Now, however, he's concerned about how Batman will react.
Joker thinks Jason is already dead. The purpose of the bomb is to get rid of the evidence of his involvement, including Sheila. Joker is not broken up about what he did, but he does have a sense that he's gone a step too far and he doesn't want Batman to know about it. At least for now!
In the end, while Jason wakes and he and his mother try to save each other, they're trapped in the warehouse when the bomb goes off. Bruce makes it back only in time to find a dying Sheila, who tells him it was Joker. When Bruce finds Jason, Jason gets no last words. He's already dead, and Bruce is devastated.
A clue from Joker leads Bruce to the United Nations in New York, and there, infamously, Bruce learns that Joker has been made the ambassador from Iran. Joker is now protected from prosecution, and Batman going after him risks an international incident. Bruce still very much wants to, but Superman stops him.
Well, mostly Superman. I recommend reading Batman #429 to see Bruce's full thought process on this. He is furious and constantly thinking about finally ending Joker— but he also questions his mental state. He still wonders if he can hold Joker responsible if he believes Joker is insane. He uses phrases like "what happened to Jason" like it was a natural disaster, not murder. He even confronts Joker to give him one last chance to turn himself in to Arkham Asylum. Bruce is in a kind of denial, still grabbing at how things usually go.
But back to Joker. Evidently, he's no longer worried that Batman will find out he killed Robin. Joker admits to it immediately.
I assume Joker realized there was no point in denying it. Is Batman going to think it's a coincidence that Robin got blown up when Joker was around? Though Bruce does say it's Joker's taunts that 100% confirm for him that the clown was responsible, pointing again to Bruce still grasping for reasons to not break his rule in his grief.
By the end of the issue, Joker has naturally tried to kill the entire United Nations assembly, which instantly made him free game. So Bruce pursues him to a helicopter, and an in-air scuffle ensues in which Bruce explicitly prevents Joker from being killed by friendly fire, evidently so he can decide how Joker will die. Bruce jumps out of the helicopter, abandoning Joker to a fiery crash. However, despite Bruce's (supposed) intentions, Joker's body is nowhere to be found. The clown lives!
So that's it, right? Joker felt some unease about killing Jason initially, but in a short time, he was happy to gloat about it to Batman's face.
But when Joker reappears in Batman #450, in 1990, he is not triumphant. He's holed up in a dilapidated building, where he learns someone is impersonating him.
How often do we see Joker upset by murders? When the story returns to him, we learn more about his mental state.
With all of Joker's cackling glee at the things he's done, coming close to actual death in the helicopter crash has jarred him— and not just the crash, but the murder that led to it. He recoils from the memory of what he did to Jason. It's why he can't see the joke anymore. It's set apart from his previous crimes. It's too far.
Which is not at all to say that Joker is completely broken up about Jason. By the end of #450, he rallies and sets out to go after his copycat and restore his reputation to his liking.
In Batman #451, though, Joker is still plagued by doubts along the way.
Even when he overcomes those doubts, claiming the mantle as the one and only Joker when his copycat dies by falling into acid, Joker challenges Gordon to finally kill him. It's reminiscent of The Killing Joke, the first time Joker went too far. But like TKJ, Gordon and Batman decide to get Joker back to Arkham against their more vengeful instincts.
Joker's also decided Arkham is just what he needs. Outside, he's plagued by the reality of what he's done; in Arkham, he can settle back into his insanity and stop caring about it again.
So after that, Joker has no second thoughts about killing Jason, right? After all, he largely references the murder in callous terms. In-universe this makes sense as Joker revising history in his own head, particularly as more stories portray his effort to be more monster than man. Monsters don't have qualms about murder! But this is comics, so we can also presume that not all Joker writers know or remember #450/451, which I think is a shame. I find stories in which Joker expresses even just a degree of vulnerability to be more interesting than those where he's just mwahaha evil.
I have seen a few other bat stories bring some nuance into Joker's perception of Jason's death, though.
First up is the particularly nuanced "Fool's Errand" in Detective Comics (1937) #726, published in 1998. Bruce visits Joker in Arkham to get information on how to find a kidnapped girl who's running out of time. It just so happens Joker arranged this kidnapping for a particular day.
I strongly recommend this issue for batjokes fans, as it revolves around Joker talking the case through with Batman in his cell to help him figure out more clues to a crime Joker himself planned. Even with Bruce beating Joker up, the conversational tone feels almost friendly. They're just doing their usual thing.
Well, sort of. Bruce has already said he's not in the mood, and he interrupts their conversation to say so again.
Joker could insist that Batman stay and keep playing the game, and needle him for being unwilling to merely talk to Joker to rescue this child. Instead, Joker gives up her location.
And Bruce does come back as predicted.
So that was Joker's nefarious plan. He wanted to restore some hope to Bruce's cynical soul to be sure that his future failures would hurt even more. But it sure seems the middle didn't go the way Joker expected, when he recognized Batman just wasn't going to play the game as usual.
Joker doesn't jump into taunting. He doesn't answer Bruce at first. He's withdrawn and reflective. He's got something else on his mind on this anniversary of the second Robin's death, and he knows that Bruce does, too. Perhaps not forcing Batman to play was a small gesture, acknowledging the difficulty of the day, remembering how things changed. And what does that gesture cost Joker when he still gets the outcome he wants?
Second example is actually also called "Fool's Errand," this one from Robin (1993) #85, published in 2001. This is a fun one in which Joker discusses his interactions and frustrations with the Robins.
But while Joker indicates more than once that he wants to fight Batsy alone, after he talks about killing Jason, this is the next page:
Joker does not then say he was relieved when another Robin showed up, but still. He's acknowledged again that when he murdered Jason, things were not right. As angry as the birdies make him, they're a key component in the game.
Then we come back to "Once More, With Feeling!" in Harley Quinn (2000) #25, from 2002. Harley's been playing double-agent against Batman with Joker, and she and Joker have this exchange.
Joker typically makes light of murdering Robin, but it seems that when he's with just about his only confidante, he lets other feelings about it burst out.
There's also a flashback to DitF in Batman: Gotham Knights #44 in 2003. We get an exchange between Bruce and Joker before Bruce jumps out of the helicopter.
Joker laughs as the helicopter dives, ready to die, but before that, he seems resigned. He doesn't throw in a real dig about murdering Jason, and he doesn't gloat that he's finally gotten Batman to kill him. He acknowledges he crossed a line.
Lastly, there's a 2006 exchange between, well, Joker and Jason himself in "All They Do is Watch Us Kill, Part 2" as part of Under the Red Hood in Batman (1940) #649. Jason has kidnapped Joker as batbait, and when Joker needles him, Jason needles him back.
Joker regularly extolls his own crimes, but suddenly one of his victims mockingly accuses him of putting up a front, of not being as coldhearted and untouchable as he wants to seem. Maybe Joker does doubt what he's doing and retreats under the cover of madness so he doesn't have to think about it— just as he did in Batman #451.
I'm not sure if there are other examples of Joker expressing anything but mocking glee about Jason's death. I do know of times he's shown a sort of fondness for Jason (such as in The Man Who Stopped Laughing #4, Gotham War: Red Hood #2, Suicide Squad: Get Joker #3), but that's not really the same thing. Joker could've seen Red Hood as his and Batman's Frankenstein child without feeling any squeamishness about killing him in the first place.
But if anyone knows of any other moments where Joker does not act like killing Jason is absolutely his most favorite thing he ever did, do share!
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illicit affairs
Summary: What happens if you fall in love with a married woman? Nothing good, of course.
"If you ever dare tell him or anyone about us, I swear to God I will tell everyone how good of a liar you are."
YOU DIDN'T intend to fall in love with a married person.
It was the last thing on your mind. You'd never put yourself in such a dangerous position — destroying what happy couples had. If only the old you could see you right now, she would have thrown you off a cliff in an instant.
She was the wife of your Classic Literature professor — Wanda.
She had the most mesmerizing greenest eyes you had ever seen, the kind you want to just spend hours or even days just staring into. Long brown hair that would cascade down to her shoulders and back, the kind that falls into place like dominoes as she'd run her fingers through her hair, as if she never needed a comb in her life.
You and Wanda first met when Vision, your professor and her loving husband, asked you to drop the book reviews he instructed the class to do for the day.
It was just a simple meeting. No out of the ordinary. There were few exchanges of smiles between you and Wanda as you handed the papers to Vision. Then you left.
The second meeting was somewhat rather different. You knew you should focus at what Vision was saying at that moment but your eyes could only betray you as they darted towards the revealing creamy legs of the woman sitting in front of Vision's desk.
You didn't mean to ogle. But you swore Wanda raise her skirt rather intentionally to reveal more when she noticed you looking.
The third meeting was the awaited moment, the actual beginning of the book where the protagonist meets the love of her life.
Vision was nowhere to be found. And in his desk, sitting on his chair was his wife.
"Vision left for a meeting," Wanda said as she stood, making her way towards you.
"Good afternoon, Miss Stark."
"Oh, please, call me Wanda."
Wanda approached you, her perfume lingering in your nose as she took the papers from your hands.
"Y/n, right?"
You nodded back.
There was an awkward silence as you both just stood there silently, a weird tension you couldn't comprehend. Or maybe you were only imagining things.
Like a curious child, you didn't know what to do. Wanda seemed like she was having fun on the other hand as she watched you struggle. Her eyes finally took mercy as she began peering through the papers.
"Mmmm, Anna Karenina. What do you think of it?"
Your brows furrowed deeper. "About the book?"
Wanda only nodded as she stepped closer, making you swallow a nervous gulp.
"Well, I think it's one of the greatest works of literature ever written."
She stopped. "And do you think it's appropriate? What she did with Vronsky appropriate?"
"No . . . She's married and—"
"Even when it was an arranged marriage to a man beyond her years whom she didn't love?" Wanda interrupted.
"Even so, I don't think it's still right. Although I couldn't blame Anna if I were in her shoes and I lived in the 1800s, the heart doesn't follow the laws in marriage. And the law doesn't apply to love."
There was a small pause. Wanda's eyes met yours and you had never seen it in the deepest and darkest shades of green before.
"You're an interesting student, Y/n, you know that right?"
"Interesting how, ma'am?"
A smirk only grew on her face. But before she could reply, Vision suddenly entered the room.
"Oh, Y/n, I'm sorry, I got caught up in an unexpected meeting." He took the papers from his wife as he left a kiss on her cheek. You said it was okay as you bid goodbye to both, to Wanda rather hesitantly.
"VISION'S looking for a nanny," Kate suddenly announced when she arrived at the table. You and your friends were in the cafeteria for lunch. "He's basically convincing his students to apply, handing out flyers. Don't you think it's a bit unprofessional?"
You didn't think it was unprofessional. You thought it was an opportunity, a blessing in disguise. But of course, you didn't tell your friends that.
SO, THERE you were sitting in Stark's two-storey house playing video games with their twins on the living room carpet. You couldn't complain choosing this work over some part time job you had at a local comic book store, considering Vision was paying you more.
You thought it was a consensus agreement between the two of them though but when you met Wanda's widened eyes later that night upon seeing you with her kids, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing, you had thought wrong.
Wanda and Vision had a fight that night too, about why Vision hired one of his students for the job. It wasn't your business, but you'd probably be fired from the job after that night.
When you had already tucked the boys in their bed, the house had now gone completely silent. You quietly prepared yourself to get home. Hurriedly leaving the house you shouldn't have come in the first place, you accidentally bumped into Wanda in the hallway.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't looking—"
"No, I should be the one who's sorry. Forgive me, Y/n. You shouldn't have heard all the things you probably heard earlier. I was just not expecting him to actually do it."
"It's okay, ma'am. I don't really mind. And I needed the money anyway." Technically, it wasn't a lie.
There was a short moment of silence before you smiled and bid goodbye. Wanda stopped you the very second you stepped out the door.
"What time will you be here tomorrow?" she asked.
You swallowed as she walked closer. "I. . . I don't remember Professor mention to babysit tomorrow."
"Well, I will be out for business the whole day tomorrow and the twins need picking up from the school. But if you're busy, I can just ask—"
"—No, it's completely fine, I can do it—"
"Are you sure? I don't want to impose," she said as she suddenly arranged the collar of your shirt. The feather like touch of her fingertips against your skin made you almost internally combust. "I don't want you missing out on your studies."
Your cheeks must have gone red the entire time as you eagerly shook your head.
"It's surely not a problem, Miss Stark."
"If you say so. I'll see you tomorrow then. And please . . . call me Wanda."
Little did you know you'd start calling her other endearing names two weeks later.
YOU STARTED becoming close to Wanda the following days when you're babysitting their twins. With interesting conversations at night whenever she and her husband got home, it was a miracle how you'd never seem to run out of topics. And in the University as well, what with her regular presence in Vision's office, it would appear as though you and Wanda couldn't handle to spend some time apart from each other.
Your friends had teased you about taking the babysitter job, of course. But they were more concerned about Vision, truly unaware that your intentions were elsewhere, that a certain brunette has plagued your mind for days, that you were so head over heels over your professor's wife.
No, they had no idea about the nights you two had spent together talking, or the prolonged touches that ignited the wick of most carnal desires in your head, or the way she slurred your name behind you as she taught you how to bake the cookies the twins liked. Of how you could almost taste her. No, they certainly had no idea.
But of course, falling in love with a married woman wasn't an easy task.
You weren't supposed to be entering Vision's office without knocking. But being used to be always welcomed in there, you didn't expect Vision to be preoccupied with his wife.
There they were kissing passionately, Wanda on top of his desk while Vision in front of her. Your sight immediately darkened. You hurriedly apologized and left the room.
Vision talked to you the next day about what happened, and how sorry he was for not being professional. He was talking about trying to resolve the cruel woes of a married life but you had already stopped listening when she mentioned Wanda started what happened yesterday.
You asked to take absence from the babysitting job for a while, saying that you needed to focus on the upcoming midterms. Vision said he understood, never questioning how it was more important than the exams.
Fortunately, you didn't have to go to Vision's office anymore. Ever since the incident, Vision never instructed you to.
That was why you had more free time on a Saturday night, making you agree to your friend's invite to another college party. Plus, you needed to move on from something that wasn't even there in the first place.
You met some girl that night too. But you were too drunk to remember the name. She was kissing you against the wall in the dark alley, or even more as you heard your belt being unbuckled.
"Stop," you muttered with a weak voice.
But the girl didn't seem to hear you. She might have taken it as a moan as she hastily fastened the way she was devouring you that moment.
You pulled away from her face as you tried to say it louder. "I can't do this here—"
And then there was a blur before you as the girl was suddenly shoved away. You didn't get to see what happened next because darkness had already enveloped your surroundings.
YOU WOKE up in a nearby motel wearing clothes you knew weren't yours. You were starting to hyperventilate, millions of thoughts running through your head, scolding your past self that this was what's going to happen when you get drunk.
It only stopped when Wanda entered the room.
"Miss Stark?"
"What the hell do you think you're doing making out with strangers in dark alleyways?"
You hadn't seen her mad before. Of course, you had heard her yelling during her arguments with Vision, but never towards you.
"You could have been—... you could have been—"
Suddenly, memories from last night quickly swarmed back into your head. How someone was about to take you out in public.
"I'm so sorry," you said back so softly, holding back tears. "I . . . I didn't mean to get too much drunk."
Wanda let out a sigh, calming herself down, as she carefully approached you then sat on the corner of the bed.
When you started crying, you felt her hand slithered around yours, squeezing you with assurance and safety you didn't know you needed.
"Hey, it's okay now," she said. "You're alright now. And that's what matters."
Then Wanda leaned forward, engulfing you into a hug as you cried into her chest. She rubbed circles soothingly on your back, murmuring sweet nothings as if she was more than just your professor's wife.
"You're safe now. I'm here. I'll always be here."
You didn't know what she meant by that, but through the days that followed, you finally understood.
You started to return as the twins' babysitter a week after the incident. Wanda insisted she'd been having a hard time finding someone to replace you. So you finally relented and caved in.
And one night, one lonely sensual night, it all made sense.
Wanda just got home from work. Vision was away for a professors retreat and wouldn't be back until the following day.
"In a hurry to get rid of me?" Wanda chuckled as she poured herself a glass of white wine. You had just tucked the kids in their bed.
You apologized. "Sorry, my friends are just having this party and I . . . Well, they set me up to meet with someone there—"
You jumped when you heard glass breaking. Upon seeing the source, how red looked so much darker unto the white kitchen counter, your feet instinctively darted towards the bathroom to get the first aid kit.
When you got back into the kitchen carrying the bag, Wanda finally spoke. "It's fine, Y/n. It's just a scratch—"
"No way that's just a scratch." You pulled her hand regardless and started to tend to it like a professional. You had been trained to do this back in highschool as a volunteer. Good thing it wasn't an open wound. You gently rolled the gauze around her hand after you had finished dabbing some alcohol on the wound, unaware that Wanda has never let her eyes leave you.
"There. All done." You smiled then looked at Wanda, finally noticing the distance between the two of you was too inexistent. You swallowed a nervous lump, not realizing you were still holding her injured hand. You let go rather reluctantly and you swore you could see the disappointment on her face.
"Y/n," Wanda called softly.
"Yes?" Avoiding her gaze, you busied yourself cleaning the mess.
"I don't think I can do this anymore."
"What do you mean?"
And as you lifted your head to look at her, Wanda was already starting to lean forward. Suddenly, you couldn't breathe, rendering you immobile as the gap between the two of you was reduced to an inch.
"I'm about to do something stupid," Wanda said. "But please, don't push me away or tell me you don't want the same thing."
Then she kissed you. And of course, you didn't push her away. The kiss was just a soft one, so feather like that you thought maybe you were only dreaming it. And you didn't want it to end. But before you could respond to the kiss, Wanda had abruptly pulled away.
"I'm sorry," Wanda said as she turned her back at you to leave.
Suddenly you forgot why you were there, that Wanda was a married woman and that you shouldn't even be doing what you were going to do. You followed Wanda to tell her you felt the same, that you had wanted her all this time but she had already gone upstairs and locked herself in the bedroom.
YOU HADN'T heard from Wanda since. Vision said they had found another babysitter so you could just relax for the meantime before the upcoming exams. But relaxing was the last thing on your mind at the moment.
Determined to get another taste, you knocked into Wanda's door one night. And fortunately, she was the one who opened it.
"Why would you do that when you're gonna avoid me afterwards?" you asked. Demanded, to be exact.
Wanda was surprised at your behavior but she maintained her stance.
"Who's at the door, dear?" Vision's voice came through the hallway.
"No one, Vis. Just a prank," Wanda answered as she kept her eyes on you.
You couldn't believe what you just heard, but maybe it was all a prank, just some stupid thing that should have never happened. You opened your mouth to speak, to tell her that it didn't mean anything to you so it would hurt her too. But you hesitated. It was rather easy to pretend nothing happened that night rather than convince someone that you would reciprocate the advances presented to you.
When you heard nearing footsteps coming from the house, probably from Vision, you hurriedly left.
Little did you know what awaited you later that night when you come back into your dorm room. Putting on your pajamas as you get yourself ready for bed, you didn't expect someone to knock at a very late hour. You were determined to fight with whoever it was outside the door because you were still filled with rage caused by a certain brunette.
It was Wanda, looking worried and anxious.
"Forgive me" was all she said as she quickly barged through the door and pushed herself against you. The frustration you could have fired back immediately dissipated, as if the touch of her skin against yours was a drug that could cure any negative feelings, any hatred you had for the woman.
You did more than just kiss that night. You performed a sacred dance against your sheets, worshipping her, drinking her as if you had been suffering from drought for ages. It surprised you how eager and deprived Wanda was as she pushed your head between her exposed thighs, begging you to touch her. And you were very compliant.
It didn't stop from there.
The blazed nights continued through the days that followed, each day met with unsatiated hunger. It was either in your dorm room or in the guest bedroom of her house, the house she shared with Vision, the guy she's married to.
You weren't an idiot. You knew what you were. You were that exact person you had despised your entire life as you watched news and heard gossips about married life, never expecting how hard it really was now that you're wearing the shoes of the mistress.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Wanda asked one night as she noticed you stop responding back to her desperate kisses, her straddling on top of your hips as she craved for another round.
"What are we, Wanda?"
Wanda didn't answer for a moment. She took ahold of her ragged breathing, calmed herself down as she cupped your face to look up at her.
Pressing your foreheads together, she whispered as if she was scared anyone could hear her confession. "I don't know. I just know that I want to be here with you."
And that was good enough for you. For a while, anyway.
YOU AND Wanda spent more time than the usual nights of fulfilled desires. You had conversations about what your future would look like after murmuring tiny i love yous post bliss from your love making. Whenever you finished your classes, you'd immediately go to the Stark's house and spend time with Wanda in the kitchen as she prepared for dinner. If you two weren't that careful enough, either Tom or Billy would caught you stealing kisses in the kitchen counter. You became a regular to their household, unbeknownst to Vision, who thought you only needed the babysitting job more now that you're graduating.
Your friends started to worry about you when they finally found out about the affair. They thought it was overrated and wrong, falling in love with a married person. You were a believer of that too. And it made you hate yourself as you looked at yourself in the mirror, as you listened to Vision's classes and saw how enthusiastic he still was, not knowing you were worshipping her wife on your knees.
You weren't stupid. You had attempted to discuss it with Wanda, even one time you thought you had begged.
"End it with him please," you asked, as she rode the silicone toy between your legs. "Be with me. Be mine, Wanda, and only mine."
Wanda gasped as she eagerly nodded, looking at your eyes with hooded ones as her fingers dug through the back of your scalp and shoulder.
"Yes?"
"Yes, Y/n, I'm yours and only yours."
And you thought she really was and that she would finally end it. But maybe it was just the wonderful effects of orgasmic pleasure that made her think you two would be more than just an illicit affair.
THEN IT happened. The one thing that finally extinguished the guilt you had been carrying for months. The one thing you thought would finally save you and Wanda.
Vision had been kissing another professor from the university rather passionately when you entered his office one unexpected afternoon. He begged and begged for you not to tell her wife about it, pleading you he'd tell her eventually and that he just needed some time.
But that was not what you did.
The first thing you did when you saw Wanda was told her about what Vision did. Desperation and selfishness could do such a thing.
You thought she'd finally wake up and get some sense that staying in that marriage would only worsen the consequences. But you had thought wrong when you woke up in your bedroom and Wanda wasn't there beside you.
Through the days that followed, Wanda had never replied to any of your messages or calls. When you went to knock on their door, nobody would answer.
Is that it?
Is that how she ends things?
When you saw Vision in class the next day, it appeared as if nothing happened, as if he didn't just commit a sinful act like his wife did. Vision was still wearing his wedding ring as if nothing happened.
So it killed you to ask about Wanda.
"She's okay, Y/n," Vision said hurriedly, as if he wanted to get rid of you and the conversation. "What happened shouldn't have happened. And we've agreed to save our marriage for the sake of our kids. And sorry, but we no longer need a babysitter. I hope you understand we need privacy at the moment."
You thought whether Vision finally found out about you and Wanda's affair or maybe he was just angry at you for telling her about his own affair.
BUT YOU were too adamant to find out. So when it was their twins' birthday, where you remembered how Wanda wanted just a house celebration for their day, you bought a nice gift for the twins and went to their house without an invitation.
Luckily, the house was open to guests that you found yourself invisible as you went inside the house.
You could see Wanda from a distance, chatting with some guests as she drank a glass of white wine in her hand, the hand that still wore her wedding ring. You knew you should be mad but you missed the woman so much that you only wished to touch her and kiss her, to feel her against you.
When yours and Wanda's eyes met, time slowed down. As if this moment was it — the start of another chapter or the ending of the book that was your love affair.
"What are you doing here?" was what greeted you in the kitchen as you busied yourself getting some refreshments. You knew she'd excuse herself and follow you. You could feel her breath at the back of your neck, wondering if she was eye fucking you in the revealing dress you decided to wear for her that day.
"That's something I didn't expect coming out of your mouth after weeks of not seeing and talking to each other."
You faced her this time and drank a gulp from your cup, suddenly feeling emboldened.
Wanda could only sneer as if in disgust but you mistook it as challenged.
"You're not invited. I think you should just leave."
You frowned. "Why? After all that I've done for you and your twins. I'm sure they'd be happy I'm here on their special day—"
"I need you to leave, Y/n."
"Why so hostile? I haven't done anything wrong."
Wanda paused for a moment as she let some guests pass their way.
Then you got serious. "I thought you'd end it with him."
This time she glared at you, her nostrils flaring. "Do you think I'm that stupid, Y/n?"
"I never thought of it—"
"Do you think I'd believe some kid over my good of a husband that he could do such a thing towards me?"
And your whole world just crumbled. "What?"
"Vision told me everything. You're so good, so desperate to have me that you would concoct such a creative story."
"I didn't make it up. It was true. He was cheating—"
"Shut your mouth," she hissed, turning her head to see if you two were still alone.
"I can't believe you won't believe me," you said aloud, more to yourself than directed at her.
Wanda exhaled as she took a step back from you. "Besides the point, I'm trying to save our marriage by putting a stop into this nonsense—"
"Nonsense?" you asked incredulously. "You literally had your tongue and fingers inside me not two weeks ago."
Wanda flared again and cornered you, her fingers wrapping the front of your dress. "You better shut your mouth or else—"
"Or else what?"
You thought you'd broken her resolve as she stared at you. You thought the look on her eyes was hunger and longing. You thought she'd kiss you like she always did. But you had thought wrong. You'd thought wrong all this time.
"You might not believe me," you spat on her face. "But does Vision believe how innocent and faithful you were of a wife?"
"You wouldn't dare." Her grip tightened around you and you wished you hadn't worn that dress.
You were almost crying, but you stopped yourself as you fought back. You didn't want her to see how weak you were.
"What if I might?"
"If you ever dare tell him or anyone about us," Wanda went on, her face only an inch or less from your face, lips barely touching, "I swear to God I will tell everyone how good of a liar you are."
You searched her eyes if she meant it. If she was only bluffing. And you wished she were.
But the hatred and distaste in her tongue proved otherwise.
"You would be expelled," she whispered. "Legal actions would be taken against you, for creating such false gossip between married couple. No one would hire you with your records. And no one," she paused, her thumb tracing your lower lip, "no one would trust you. I'm sure you don't want that, right?"
You hadn't seen this side of Wanda. And maybe this was what your friends were warning you all along, that married couples weren't meant to be dealt with.
The woman you loved so much turned into someone you wouldn't thought would ever do something cruel to you.
"You wouldn't," you said but you didn't sound sure anymore.
Wanda finally let go and stepped back from you. "I'd do anything for my family."
And you wished the ground would just swallow you whole. Fortunately, that ground was in some sort of a guest interrupting Wanda as she asked for some paprika spice.
Before Wanda left to tend to the guest, she whispered so low that only you could hear, "Don't do anything stupid I wouldn't do."
But you weren't listening anymore. All became white noise as you looked at your surroundings. You were frozen on the spot, suddenly realizing you didn't belong there at all.
And what little of dignity left inside you fuelled your legs and feet to move on their own accord. You left their house silently, promising yourself you'd never ever dare set foot unto that house again as long as you lived.
YOU DELETED her number, your photos together, any memories that the two of you ever shared. You requested to transfer to another dorm just to eradicate the nights you spent with Wanda in your old room. Your friends were helpful. If it weren't for them, you wouldn't have lasted another two months until you left that shithole of a place.
You never dared to be alone with Vision, nor cared when you still saw him and that professor locking tongues together. You just needed to leave. To forget that you just got your heart broken by someone you shouldn't have been having affairs in the first place.
And that day finally came. It was graduation day and you never thought Wanda would come but she was there, in all her glory.
"Don't worry, Y/n, we won't let her come near you," Kate promised. But the fear inside you only worsened. What if she'd tell everyone in the university how much of a slut you were?
You couldn't believe you could ever love someone so empty as your eyes finally met. Time didn't slow down this time.
You were the first to look away as it already pained you how stupid you were.
When the ceremony was over, you immediately left the venue as if scared Wanda could still make a scene if she wanted to.
Something inside you urged to go to the comfort room to get changed first before heading back to your dorm. So you did just that.
And when you were already leaving through the front doors after changing, there Wanda was with her back at you already waiting outside, her neck craned around her searching for something. As if she was looking for you.
You could have just done it. You could have just walked outside and talked to her.
But you couldn't, not after what she did.
You stepped back from the door and went to another exit instead, vowing to yourself never to come back.
Author's Note: Not sure I'd be writing a part two for this because I just want to read angsty stuff nowadays 😂😂😂😭😭😭
#wanda maximoff x reader#elizabeth olsen x reader#wanda maximoff#wanda x reader#wanda#elizabeth olsen#wanda angst#cheating
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Shazam identity reveal AU where the league knew Captain Marvel was a child named Billy since day one but he stubbornly refuses to transform or tell his full name for the whole 4 years he’s been on the team and everyone’s so confused because they know like. 95% of his identity already why is he hiding this specific part?
They start thinking he’s some kind of criminal or had a dark past he’s hiding from them. They know so much about him, though. They know he’s homeless, they know he’s had bad foster homes, they know his parents died tragically and his uncle stole his inheritance. he shares everything. Everything except the one thing that would show he truly trusts them. Why? What have they done to convince him they weren’t trustworthy?
Then. He accidentally transforms back during a battle. Batman instantly scans his face with the facial scanner that’s built into his mask because he’s paranoid as hell of course he has one of those. And he sees exactly why he hid it for so long.
The tension in the air is so palpable that the entire league feels it and they look back and forth between them waiting for the bomb to drop.
Cyborg is the one who blurts it out (he IS a facial scanner)
“Your last name is BAT SON??”
Billy groans into his hands in defeat and Batman sighs, finally understanding why the secret was kept so desperately.
From then on the league refuses to call Billy anything other than Big Red Robin or just Big Robin. Robin but big. they call Batman Captain Dad at every possible opportunity. Whenever Billy does something wrong someone threatens to tell his dad on him then call Batman. The robins last names may as well not exist because from then on they are only ever called Damian Bat-son or Red Hood Bat-son or Stephanie Bat-daughter, except for Red Robin who’s called Little Red Robin or, if they’re feeling brave, the Little Red Cheese. The bat children and Billy’s nicknames become so confusing and meshed together that conversations get very confusing and the names just become interchangeable. The press is convinced that Captain Marvel is Batman’s secret love child within a week.
It gets so chaotic so fast, no one knows how this happened but names mean nothing anymore and Batman is getting a DNA test. So much opportunity for chaos!
#billy batson#shazam#dc captain marvel#dc#justice league#batman#batfam#red robin#batman and robin#Robin#Billy was right to not trust them#Billy’s last name is never used to it’s full potential#the comedy of your last name implying your the son of your terrifying boss who can’t stop adopting children who look exactly like you#or perhaps the horror#it’s all super dramatic and suspenseful#leading up to the big reveal#and then it all descends into pure chaos#love it
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Honigbiene's Bee Machine | Laura Freigang x Child!Reader
warnings: asthma attack
word count: 1143
summary: you are diagnosed with asthma
a/n: part of Laura's Honigbiene
Laura thinks it’s funny how much you love flowers.
Exactly like your namesake, honeybee.
You love touching them and feeling the petals between your fingers. You love plucking them and bringing them home, where your Mama lets you keep them in mason jars of water.
Every time your Mama takes you on walks to the park or anywhere else really, you come home with flowers.
From bushes, the football field and even cracks in the sidewalk, you pick them up.
After you learn colours at school, you like naming the colours of your flowers to Mama. Just in case she didn’t have a teacher to teach her.
White are the ones that grow where Mama and Tantes kick a ball around and yellow are the ones that grow right outside your home.
Sometimes your Mama asks if you have a favourite but you don’t. You love them all equally and you tell her as such. Mama always laughs and kisses your forehead, saying that you’re adorable.
You don’t really understand what she means by it but you love her anyway. You love her more than you love your flowers because she is the best.
Mama cuddles you a lot and lets you sleep in her big bed all the time even though you are not a baby and have your own big girl bed.
She’s also patient, giving you all the time you want when you stop to look at each and every flower you see, on the way to the playground.
You think Mama is your best friend.
She’s got her watchful eyes on you now as you head off towards the first patch of flowers you see.
They are a bright pink and so pretty that you run to get there faster.
Mama is always reminding you to be careful and use your walking feet but you’re just so excited that you can’t help it.
It has happened before, with your Mama often chiding you gently and warning that you could fall.
That has never happened before but it seems like today is the day your luck runs out.
Laura knows it's going to happen before you do but there is nothing she can do as you somehow trip and fall face first into the flowers you had been so looking forward to seeing.
She’s at your side, lifting you out of them before you have a chance to cry.
‘Oh Honigbiene.’ She murmurs soothingly.
‘Mama.’ You whimper and she hugs you close.
‘Mama.’ You whine again because something doesn’t feel good.
There is an odd feeling in your chest, like the one you sometimes get after running a lot but so much worse.
‘It’s okay.’ Your Mama coos, rubbing your back soothingly.
You cough loudly, startling Mama enough that she draws back to look you over.
You cough again. Then again and again and again.
‘Hurts Mama.’ You cry, beginning to get scared.
You’re breathing faster and faster, trembling slightly in front of your Mama who is quickly realising that something is very wrong.
She forces calm into her voice, in an attempt to keep you calm, ‘Honigbiene take a deep breath. Nice and slow.’
With tears streaming down your face, you shake your head, trying to tell her that you can’t.
‘Yes you can. Try baby try.’ Mama pleads.
You attempt to suck in a breath but you’re only able to manage a shaky wheeze.
If your Mama wasn’t panicked before, she sure is now.
‘Keep trying Honigbiene.’ She urges as she dials for an ambulance.
She’s talking very fast but the ick in your chest gets bigger.
‘Mama.’ You choke out, whimpering when she drops her phone to hold you.
‘The ambulance is coming. You’ve just got to hang on a little bit longer, okay Honigbiene?’
Mama gets you to sit down as she rubs your back in hopes that it will help.
Still, the ambulance can’t come soon enough.
By the time it arrives, you are pale and breathless, your heart beating fast as a result of the lack of oxygen and how terrified you are.
The people that come out of it slip a mask onto your face and then one of them, a nice woman explains to you that it will help you breathe.
Like your Mama, she tells you to take deep breaths.
Then Mama carries you into the ambulance where you lay down on a small bed inside. She softly tells you that you’re going to the hospital where lots of nice people will look after you.
Your Mama promises that you’ll be okay and you believe her because she had never lied to you before.
The funny mask helps you feel better but your chest still hurts and you’re coughing a lot.
If you weren’t so distracted by how sick you feel, the sound of the ambulance sirens would have made you excited.
As it is, you whimper to Mama until you get to the hospital.
Then a doctor checks you over and gives you another funny mask.
This one has white smoke and when you take deep breaths in, helps you to breathe properly again.
The ick that hurts your chest goes away and you happily sit in your Mama’s lap to finish taking the big slow breaths that the doctor asks you take.
Your new mask is connected to a machine that hums.
‘Just like a bee!’ You tell Mama.
‘Yes. Just like a bee.’ She murmurs, hugging you tightly.
Mama does not let you go even when the doctor comes back in to talk to her, using big words you don’t understand.
He gets you to blow into a big tube a lot and stares at a screen with lots of squiggly lines and numbers on it.
You don’t understand what he’s doing but when he’s done, you get to go home with the humming machine.
‘I like my Bee Machine.’ You say to your Mama as she sets it by the big bed at bedtime.
Mama laughs, ‘Is that what we’re calling it?’
She tucks you under the covers with one of the honeybees Tante Klara crocheted for you.
‘I like your Bee Machine too. It’s going to help you and that is very important. You are very important to me and I love you so much, Honigbiene.’
‘Love you too Mama.’ You whisper and she gives you a goodnight kiss on your forehead before tucking herself under the covers.
You might be getting bigger but Laura thinks that you’ll never be too big to stop fitting in her arms.
As long as you want her to, she’ll let you sleep in her bed and hold you till you fall asleep.
With how much your newly diagnosed asthma scared her today, she holds you long after you’ve fallen asleep.
Even when she falls asleep, she’s holding you close.
German Translation:
Honigbiene - Honeybee
#laura freigang#woso#woso x reader#woso imagine#laura freigang x reader#laura freigang imagine#woso fanfics#woso community#eintracht frankfurt frauen#dfb frauen#gerwnt#katelynnwrites
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Torture and Trust // S. Riley x f!reader
warnings: waterboarding, reader is physically hit and tortured, reader is threatened with sexual assault in one (1) line, canon-typical violence, swearing
A part two to this but also doesn't need to be read before this. I'm kind of making a little universe in my head but idk. We vibin'.
It was the shock of cold water smashing against your face that woke you up. To be honest, you weren’t really asleep. You had been drifting between the space between consciousness and sleep, lured there from a few nasty hits to the head and exhaustion.
It was supposed to be a simple recon mission before the rest of the team came in to aid the retrieval of an asset. It was a warehouse tucked away in the streets of Tokyo that was apparently the hub of a human trafficking ring. MI5 had tasked the military to dispatch a SpecOps team since British citizens were targeted, something that had you grumbling under your breath because it shouldn’t take someone’s fucking citizenship to determine if they needed help. Explosives would be a bad idea considering how metropolitan the area was, even if it wasn’t very busy in this area. So you and Lieutenant Riley were tasked with figuring out a solid entry point and a tally of guards.
Simon had agreed to split up so he could canvass the west side of the building and see how many guards were stationed while you took the east side. It just so happened that the second-in-command to shithead in charge himself spotted the flash of your rifle scope and the next thing you know, you were strapped to a chair in the middle of the warehouse.
Your chest heaved as you caught your breath and you let out a small laugh as you regarded the two men in front of you. Being in the SAS, you were no secret to torture. Everyone knew that one step of the training was to go through seventy-two hours of pure hell and sleep deprivation to see who broke and who didn’t. This was child’s play compared to that.
“Your swing is getting better,” you said through bloodied teeth. “But that follow through is what we need to work on.”
A hand fisted in the back of your head and shoved your forward, directly into the trough of water they had placed in front of you. Waterboarding was always an interesting exercise. You knew it was coming and had inhaled sharply, focusing your attention on anything but the air slowly leaking from your lungs as he held you in there for maybe a minute. Your thoughts drifted to other things, like the ramen you and Simon split in the safehouse the night before. It had been a few months since he grew comfortable enough with taking the mask off in front of you so now you savored the few moments you saw of his face. He seemed almost tentative without his mask, as though he was aware of how beastly his scars made him look.
You pondered over if he knew just how beautiful he was.
They yanked you back out of the water and you didn’t know what time it was. It was certainly darker than it had been when you were first nabbed from your lookout point. Certainly long enough that Simon was aware of your predicament. So that meant you were running out of time. Two in front of you, three guards behind. Your hands strained against the rope and duct tape mixture that bound your wrists and ankles to the sides of the chairs.
“Who do you work for?” the boss hissed. You blinked up at him innocently through the water that clung to your lashes and shrugged.
“Can’t a girl just chill around here? God forbid women do anything.” You braced yourself for a hit that never came. Instead, he grabbed your jaw and squeezed, forcing your teeth to clack together with a sharp jolt and a bite to your tongue, adding more blood to mix with the cuts already present from the lackluster punches delivered earlier.
“Not with that level of weaponry. Try again.”
“You got me. I’m one of Santa’s elves and he wanted to make sure you were being a good boy this year. I’d hate to let him know that-” Your words were cut off as you were shoved back into the water. Ramen. How many meals had you two shared at this point? He had even started bringing you dinner to your office since he could take his mask off there rather than in the chow hall. You wouldn’t lie, you were starting to get tired. Your lungs burned from the fight to breathe and inhale the water, but you tried to shut off the small part of your brain that sent up signals of panic.
You didn’t need to worry, you reminded yourself. Just hold on a little longer.
“If you don’t start giving me real answers, maybe I’ll let some of our clients get it out of you. They’d love that,” the boss snarled when you were let up for air. Your gut tugged uncomfortably at the implication. It was always something that you had to keep in the back of your mind. Being a woman, military or not, always meant that it was a threat held over your head, simply for existing. It was why you were so eager to destroy their whole operation.
“How about you go fuck yourself?” Gathering up the blood and spit in your mouth, you forced your tongue back and then spat the putrid mix all over his face and the pristine white collar of his shirt. Rage flickered across his face and he stood up straight.
“Get me the pliers. If she won’t talk, we’ll make sure she screams.”
Well, you mused, what was a few less nails and teeth except less maintenance?
As his little goon walked off to whatever evil lair table of doom they had set up, your ears tuned into the silence around you. The typical sounds of the city met your ears, along with…there.
“I’m afraid, boys, that you’re out of time,” you said softly. A smile tugged painfully at your swollen and cut lips but you pushed past the pain. “This has been fun, truly, but I can’t lie and say I’ll miss you.”
The boss’ hand was heavy on the back of your neck as he held you down into the water. Even through the distorted splashes and fuzziness in your mind, you could hear five audible pops. You knew what they saw in their last moments. You knew that the Ghost emerged from the shadows, steps silent despite the fact that he was more muscle than man, and you knew that these men felt fear seconds before a bullet silenced their cruel minds.
He tugged you up out of the water and you inhaled deeply, the sound harsh and grating on your sensitive ears. Blinking the water out of your eyes, you came face to face with a mask that most said elicited a bone deep terror in them.
But not you.
“Right on time,” you panted. He said nothing as he cut the bindings holding you down and inspected the way that they had rubbed some of your skin away, leaving it tender and bleeding. Simon turned to look at the leader of all of this and you realized that he didn’t kill him. The man was dragging himself towards his discarded gun on the ground, blood oozing from his ruined kneecap. Ghost stalked towards him and lifted him up and away from his weapon. He regarded the little weasel coolly and then glanced back at you. You tried to push yourself up and out of the chair but your legs shook under you and instead, you collapsed back against the metal.
“Warehouse is clear,” Soap announced as he, Gaz, and Price entered. “Christ, bonnie, you look like shite.”
“You charmer,” you muttered. Gaz rushed to your side to help you up and you were grateful for your team. Your friends.
“This him?” Price asked as he joined Simon.
“Yeah.” It was the first time he’d spoken since he entered the building. “Keep him alive. I want to be the one to interrogate him.”
If it were anyone else, Price would agree. But seeing the slight tremor in Simon’s hands where he gripped the man’s suit jacket and then looking over to where Gaz was supporting your half-conscious form, he knew that putting Simon alone in a room with the man would result in a very messy clean up.
“We’ll worry about that when we get them back to base,” Price said. “We need to get her to medical.”
Four days into your medical leave and you were growing antsy. Soap and Gaz tried to keep you entertained and Price offered you an opportunity to yell at some cadets, but you were bored. You missed moving your body more than just the walk from your room to your office to the chow hall and back. But the doctor had threatened to strap you to a bed for a week while you let your body get back to normal after, and her words were, “you got your shit rocked. I know you SpecOps bastards think you’re invincible but anyone would need to take a fucking break after being tortured.” So, here you were, sitting in your office and writing up a mission plan for another team because Price knew you were getting twitchy without anything to do.
Two knocks, sharp and perfunctory, caught your attention. You called for whoever it was to enter, but you already knew who it would be. How many times had he laid that same knock upon your door? You once said that he might as well move into your office and he had regarded it for a moment thoughtfully, as if he was genuinely considering it.
“Four days of silence from you. Thought I did something wrong,” you commented lightly as Ghost entered and shut the door behind him. He didn’t take his usual seat, the plush wheelie chair you invested in when you joined the team and realized that he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Simon dropped a tray onto your desk and then stalked away, his shoulders tense and bristling like a scared cat.
A quick glance at the time confirmed that your trap had worked. He always noticed if you missed a meal, usually because you were invested in something you were working on. Everyone had their own quirk or vice and that was yours.
He brought you beef stew over rice, a quintessential British meal that was surprisingly appetizing despite the cook’s minimal care. A shiny red apple sat beside it and, as if he read your thoughts, Simon whirled around and yanked it off of the tray. He extracted a knife from his pocket and started to carve the apple into slices that he dropped onto the tray and then turned around and began to stare at the wall once more. You simply grabbed one of the slices and chewed on it while waiting for him to speak.
“That was stupid,” his rough voice broke the silence. You scoffed and stopped chewing.
“What, getting captured? I didn’t fucking plan on it.”
“No. For not trying to escape.”
A dry, startled laugh escaped you and you scrubbed the heel of your hand over your forehead. “Five men with guns and me with nothing, tied to a chair. Yeah, fair chance of running without a bullet in the back.”
“You didn’t even try.”
“I didn’t have to. I knew you were coming.”
He turned to glare at you from behind that infamous mask and you cocked your head to the side. “That doesn’t scare me, Simon, and you know it. Take the mask off.”
He hesitated and then reached up and yanked it off, revealing the sharp line of his jaw, the scars around his mouth, and those freckles that speckled across his nose and cheeks. You could see him better and, therefore, read him better. His eyes told you he was angry. His tight jaw told you he was scared.
“You can’t just sit there and fucking die because you’re waiting for me, you can’t do that.”
“Why? You’re my teammate. I trust that you would come for me.”
“What if I hadn’t?” You shook your head at his question, at the absurdity of it. Was he hearing himself? Was he that consumed by whatever foolish notion that had somehow worked its way into his head? You pushed away from your desk and stood up so you could cross the floor to stand toe to toe with him.
“What if what if what if, fuck the what ifs, Simon. You. Wouldn’t. Leave. Me. Behind.” Each word was punctuated with a jab to his chest.
“And what if I had been injured, yeah? What then?” God, he was insufferable.
“You really mean to tell me that you wouldn’t crawl through broken glass to get to one of us.”
“That’s not the point!”
“Would you have this conversation with Soap or Gaz or Price? Then why are you so insistent about it with me? I was doing my job. Are you saying I can’t trust you? Trust my team? Because I can. I do. Don’t start telling me I shouldn’t.”
“You can. For fuck’s sake, you can.”
“You said it yourself, Simon, this job is dangerous and I knew the risks going in so I don’t know why you’re so insistent on thi-“
He tasted like nicotine and mint gum with maybe a hint of gunpowder, something so uniquely him. His lips pressed against yours with surprising gentleness and he cradled your face between his hands like you were the most precious glass figure he’d ever held. You fisted your hands in the lapels of his uniform jacket and sank into his touch. His fingers traced the skin of your cheeks, careful to not irritate the cuts you sustained days prior, and down to cup the back of your neck to draw you closer. A soft whimper escaped you at the sensation of his strong body pressing against yours.
You could easily hold your own in a fight, but the knowledge that this Adonis of a man was by your side through the hell of war was a comfort.
You needed to breathe but it wasn’t the painful reminder like it was when being tortured. His hands slid from your neck to cradling your jaw as you pulled away, settling back down on your heels.
“Don’t make me bury you,” he whispered, his forehead still pressed against yours.
You nodded, too dazed to say anything noteworthy. His thumbs stroked over your jaw and you blinked up at him.
“Was that a one time thing to shut me up or…”
“Fuckin’ insufferable, you are,” he grunted but leaned down to kiss you sweetly. There wasn’t much you could associate with Simon Riley and being sweet, but the tenderness in his touch made you want to hold him and keep him away from the world that had hurt him.
You felt his fingers brush against a nasty bruise on your jaw from a well aimed hit and saw his eyes darken.
“Did you question him already?”
“We’ve got a list of buyers that MI6 and Laswell are confirming right now,” he affirmed. Good. The mission was a success then.
“And how did you get this information?” you asked.
You met the gaze of the Ghost and didn’t flinch. He chuckled low and deep in his chest and tilted your chin up so he could see one of the cuts better.
“I did everything he did to you,” he said fiercely. "But I made sure it was permanent."
You moved your hand up to tangle with the short hair at the base of his neck and pressed your lips against his. Pulling back so just a small gap separated you, you murmured out a single sentence.
"I trusted you would."
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husband!leon kennedy
—re!4 husband leon x pregnant!wife!reader, a headcanon list
based on this one-shot request
masterlist taglist
an: decided to give you guys this hc list since you guys liked the oneshot so much, giving you guys a little peek of what happens after the oneshot. i’m finally moved and currently unpacking at my new place, i’ll be working on requests and opening them back up soon. hope you guys enjoy, pls reblog and like if you do <3
husband!leon who buys you all the food your body deserves. anything for his wife and his growing baby inside of you.
husband!leon who helps you plan and decorate the nursery for your child. he’s just happy he gets to be a dad, especially with you involved.
husband!leon who drives you to all of your doctors appointments, always having tears pool in his eyes whenever he sees your guys growing child on the ultrasound.
husband!leon who always lets you pick whatever you want for dinner, even if it’s not something he wants. as long as your happy and you get what you want.
husband!leon who massages your swollen feet after you complain how much they hurt. rubbing your calves and legs just to make sure your comfy. he wants what’s best for you.
husband!leon who rubs your belly when you both are laying in bed together, pressing kisses to it and talking to the unborn baby. he knows the baby can’t fully hear him yet but he’s too excited.
husband!leon who helps you pick out stuff for the baby to wear after you find out the gender. cute little onesies and footies, stuffed animals and whatever else your heart desires. only the best for his wife and his baby.
husband!leon who hangs up all the ultrasounds up on the fridge like a kid displaying artwork, he likes watching his baby grow. he’s still having a hard time believing he’s a father even if the evidence is right in front of him.
husband!leon who will go down on you because you can’t even touch yourself, making you moan and whimper. he knows the hormones make you more susceptible and more horny, he doesn’t mind one bit. knowing he’s the one that gets to ravish you when you’ve been pent up.
husband!leon who loves the fact that he can still fuck you like your not carrying his kid, practically crying on his cock as he pounds into you, rubbing your swollen tits and pressing kisses all over your body, caressing your belly. he knows you love it, giving each other what you want.
husband!leon who is the king of aftercare, especially when your pregnant. he helps you take a bath afterwards. giving you bubbles and even going so far as to getting in with you and massaging your back.
husband!leon who watches you struggle with the simple tasks you used to do before you were pregnant. if you need something from a shelf because it hurts for you to reach, he grabs it for you. if you can’t stop crying over the most simplest things, he hands you some tissues and holds your hand. he’s supporting you the whole way through this because you need it.
husband!leon who lets you lay on the couch on days your not feeling the best, letting you watch whatever your heart desires. even if it’s something he can’t even stand like the bachelorette or some bad reality tv show.
husband!leon who watches you open presents for the baby shower. your happy, opening little onesies and gifts from your guys friends and family. watching your mom cry happy tears when you open her gift; your stuffed bear from when you were a baby.
husband!leon who watches you hug your mom, stuffed bear still in your hand and tears pouring out of your eyes. he knows that you have been dealing with a lot going through this pregnancy and he’s just happy that your getting some joy out of it.
husband!leon who lets you have whatever weird craving your wanting. even if it’s pickles and frosting or peanut butter and graham crackers. he lets you have whatever you want, within reason, letting you have the cravings that make you and the baby happy.
husband!leon who when your doing the dishes, your water breaks. he doesn’t think first, he acts. he gets the bag that he’d packed and grabs you. he’s nervous but he’s doing his best to push his own nerves aside and get you and the baby to the hospital.
husband!leon who practically speeds down the interstate to get you to the hospital on time. weaving through a couple cars and speeding, all the while your hand is squeezing his in death grip as he just tells you to breathe through the contractions.
husband!leon who gets you to the hospital in one piece, your hand almost breaking his where he holds it. letting the nurse guide you into the delivery room to get you prepped for labor. your eyes are wide with pain and nerves, leon just keeps standing next to you, holding onto your hand and pressing kisses to your head the entire time.
husband!leon who watches as you push, push, and push over and over again. your doing so great and he’s so proud of you, being able to bring a life into this world, he’s never seen anything like it. he just rubs your back, the doctor kneeling in between your legs and helping the baby come out.
husband!leon who watches as the doctor tells you the babies almost here, your exhausted frame trying to push the baby out the rest of the way. he mumbles praises into your hair and ear, telling you that you can do it. you can push the baby out, you can get through this.
husband!leon who watches you do the final two pushes, the doctor helping the baby come out. leon hears the small cries before seeing the small baby being cradled in the doctors hands, his eyes watering at the sight. he looks over at you and sees how exhausted but happy you are, your eyes watering just like his.
husband!leon who watches as the nurse cleans and swaddles your guys baby, bringing it over to you. your eyes crying big tears. the baby looks just like the both of you combined, having your eyes and his cheeks. he sits gently next to you on the bed, rubbing your head. he admires you and your guys baby, how beautiful it is. how you did it, despite you thinking you couldn’t, he knew you could.
husband!leon who gets to hold the baby for the first time while you rest, talking to the baby in soft whispers, the babies only soft coos in response. “i’m your daddy, yeah…yeah, i’m your daddy…” he murmurs and watches as the baby wraps the tiny hand around his finger. “so cute…so cute…” he smiles as tears leak down his face.
husband!leon who days after you’ve healed from having the baby, you all three get to go home. leon goes from room to room with the baby, showing it its nursery and giving it a tour, even if his child isn’t going to remember this. he does it all the same.
husband!leon who changes his first diaper in the days following, who does it with pride. knowing that all his practice of learning the past nine months are going to use. he lets you rest and sleep whenever you have time in between feeding and bonding with the baby.
husband!leon who loves that he’s a husband and a father, he gets to watch his child grow. he gets to have that luxury and it wasn’t something he always thought was possible. and with you, it’s more achievable and he loves you even more for that if it’s even possible.
#leon kennedy#leon x reader#leon kennedy smut#re2 leon#re4 remake#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy au#leon kennedy x reader#re2 remake#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy headcanons#leon kennedy hc#pregnancy#pregnancy au#leon kennedy re2#leon kennedy re4#leon kennedy re6#leon resident evil#resident evil smut#re4 leon x reader#leon s kennedy x you#leon s kennedy x reader#re4 leon#di leon x reader#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy x fem reader
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