#imagine seeing your much younger sister an old woman

[saintslewis]

Pink + White



pairing: charles leclerc x black fem dj!reader

summary: in which your relationship with charles gets exposed so you decide to just hard launch

face claim: uncle waffles 😋

social media au. (with a bit of writing)

-

twitter

instagram

yourinstagram

liked by carlossainz55, arthurleclerc and 3,684,291 others

yourinstagram mon amour

view comments

user did we skip a few chapters??

user i don't remember seeing this in the prologue???

leclerk MARRIAGE?!

yourinstagram i'm just as surprised as you are tbh

carlossainz55 you have no idea how hard it was to keep this secret

charles_leclerc you are very much appreciated, mate

landonoriss i took the second pic btw 🤭

yourinstagram you want a cookie?

landonoriss yes pls

yourinstagram they're in the pantry, come over whenever

lewishamilton congrats you two! sending love and light 🤍

yourinstagram thank you Lewis 🥹 and thank you for making me work during our engagement party

lewishamilton i didn't know anyone better 😭

yourinstagram i'll take that hidden compliment, old man

user user look! she’s sooooo pretty! Charles is so lucky

user and they do look like the ending of pink + white

yourinstagram this is the sweetest thing ever omg??

fan my fav dj is engaged to my fav f1 driver?? what is life? tutorial?

yourinstagram we have a couples interview coming up soon so stay tuned for that 🩷

scuderiaferrari our favourite lady in red ❤️

yourinstagram didn't want to mess up this face beat but the tears are already flowing 🥹🫂

danielricciardo so i have a slight favour....

yourinstagram lemme hard launch in peace pls

lilymhe and how the FUCK have i never seen you at races?

yourinstagram what if i told you i'm an international super spy?

user SUPER SPYYY

ynstan we lost you to a YT MAN?!

yourinstagram listen, i love this yt man very much

arthurleclerc am i allowed to gloat that i was the first to know?

yourinstagram you can gloat but don't forget you literally barged in after the proposal

arthurleclerc why'd you call me out like this?

formula1 this was not on our 2023 bingo card but we love this very much

charles_leclerc my beautiful wife

yourinstagram my darling husband

f1wagupdates

liked by ynlover, mercedesgirly and 3,345 others

f1wagupdates looks like we have a new lady joining the paddock (she’s on the left!). Her name is Y/n Y/l/n (soon to be Leclerc) and she is an international dj by profession. She is reportedly two years younger than Charles and spends most of her off days in Monaco with him. The couple revealed their relationship by Y/n showing off a diamond ring on her latest post. We wish this beautiful couples nothing but happiness!

view comments

user are we just gonna ignore the elephant in the room?

user is the elephant in the room with us? and if you're gonna say it, just say it with your chest you loser

user an insider said that she already deals with direct insults from paddocks around the world. i can't imagine what she's about to go through

user if you scroll on her page, all you see is her wearing skimpy clothes for her job with everything showing. charles deserves better

user if anything, she serves cunt in every way possible and when you say he deserves better, you're talking about yourself? bc boy do I have news for YOU 🤣

user love a black woman from infinity to infinityyyyyy

user my god, she is gorgeous

user saw her in show once and she is TALENTEDT

user here comes his 'wives' in the comments being weird

user like he's my husband but i will GLADLY be sister wives with her

user not sure if i want her or him or both

user when i saw the rumours, i didn't know that she was THIS pretty like how did Charles pull her????

f1wagupdates that's what we're thinking

user the twitter girlies were right omg and the fact that she drives the pista had to mean they were married bc literally no one but him drives that car

user she seems so sweet, i hope nothing bad happens to her

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, sebastianvettel and 5,838,393 others

charles_leclerc mi belle

view limited comments

user how the hell did he pull her???

charles_leclerc her mom helped

sebastianvettel congratulations ❤️

charles_leclerc thank you, mate 🫂

carmenmmundt my girlfriend 😋

georgerussell63 hello??

charles_leclerc hello???

yourinstagram hey Carmen 🥰

user this hair colour on her is so pretty

maxverstappen1 the one lady that Yuki is taller than ❤️

yourinstagram i will literally burn all your rbr caps, don’t test me

maxverstappen1 what are you gonna do? hit my knees? 🤣

yourinstagram i’ll ban you from entering clubs :)

maxverstappen1 okay sorry y/n ���

interview

"Does this hair look fine?" You looked at Charles as you flipped your hair to the front to decide on how you want to look on camera. The Monegasque man stared with you with such admiration that he didn't even realise he wasn't blinking. You nudged him to break him out of his trance that you seemed to have on him and he shook his head a little, giving you a boyish smile when he saw your amused face.

“Everything looks good on you, baby.” Charles complimented you, something he can’t go a day without doing. Your smile had closed your eyes as you held each other’s hands. The camera crew in front of you were in awe at the two of you showing each other your love.

“Okay, are you guys ready to begin?” The interviewer asked as she sat across from you two. You both nodded and scooted closer together. She had introduced herself and the both of you as her guests before you introduced yourselves as each other’s fiancés before your careers which caused the studio to laugh.

“How did you two meet?”

“Mon amour, you can start. I’ll add on here and there.” Charles encouraged, playing with the jewellery on your hand and staring at your engagement ring, all the memories of the proposal coming back to him. It was summer break for f1 and you two were in the hotel room overlooking Lake Como, feeling like you were in a movie. You had planned to get lunch then take a boat ride to a famous landmark there. When you had gotten there, it was quiet and you barely saw the photographer that Charles had hired for that day. You both stood in the huge butterfly garden, with you distracted by the flowers, he knelt down on his knee and professed his love for you, ‘pink + white’ by frank ocean playing in the background per his request. It was private yet so beautiful, calling both your families who knew and Arthur surprising you after the proposal.

“It’s a cute story if I do say so myself. I had taken my mom to Monaco as it has always been our dream and I was finally able to provide that for her. We were sitting in this pretty cafe in Monte Carlo and to be fair, we were gossiping and laughing so of course people would hear us but we weren’t that loud.” You smiled at the memory, seeing everything as you spoke.

“All during our lunch, Charles and Arthur, my brother in law, were sitting next to us and they were in their own realm too.” You said, giving him a look so that he could say his version of the story.

“Well um like Y/n said, I’m with my brother and I kept trying to hear what accent she had because it was beautiful. So I turn to her and ask her where she was from and we just started talking as her mom and my brother are waiting for us to finish. Her mom even said that we were meant to be because when we met, the dress she was wearing was the same colour as my eyes.” Charles spoke, constantly looking between you and the camera.

“He then asked to take me on a date the very next day and he said that he wanted to give me the universe and would be happy if i spent time with him, even if it were a short while. Three years later, here we are.” You concluded, showing your ring to the camera as you couldn’t stop smiling.

Just the beginning for the Ferrari boy and his queen.

#formula one x black reader #x black fem reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x black reader #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #x black reader #Spotify

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Got Ink? 💉 | Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd Imagine

Takes place before, during, and after the events of TGM

TGM masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x tattooed model!reader (romantic), dagger squad (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, mentions of pain as a result of tattoos. Slight suggestive content if you blink | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: 6k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: Art comes in many different forms. And when you technically think about it, your body is a canvas that can be become a mural if you find yourself drawn to the beauty that tattoos bring. For WSO Bob Floyd, he appreciated art in every form and loved how patterns and colors could create something beautiful. When his sister invites him to a party for her job shortly after returning from a special mission with the Navy, Bob meets a woman who was the perfect canvas he’d ever seen.

Note: I cannot tell you how much I loved doing this request. As soon as I got it I was like, ‘I’m gonna love this,’ especially as someone who has tattoos and wants to have a lot (I have at least twenty planned) this was feeding my love for tattoos. To the anon who sent this request I hope you like it, I really enjoyed writing this for you and I hope you’re okay with me choosing Bob since you said you wouldn’t mind if it was him or Jake—since I just did a Jake imagine I wanted to give Bob some love 🥹 Also I made it where reader was born in 1989 so if we were to go by Bob being born in 1993 like Lewis then she’d be about four years older since the events of TGM take place in 2019.

——————————

They often say that when you get your first tattoo it will either be the one and only time you subject yourself to the temporary pain of permanent ink…or it becomes one of many.

“It’s an addiction”, people defend, though they should probably look up the term addiction before using it in such context.

For many it’s the appreciation of art. Whether expressing it by becoming a tattoo artist or wanting to capture the beauty by etching it onto their skin like they are its own personal canvas.

Tattoos come in many different forms. There’s the traditional/old school style that is very recognizable with its bold black lines outlining bright colors. People in their old age, having grown up in the 60s and 70s, are the ones usually seen with these types of tattoos. Neo-traditional is not that far off from traditional, just the lines are not as bold. Delicateness is seen with fine line tattoos. In recent years it’s become popular amongst the younger generation—not just because they are pretty to look at but if one has a job that’s strict on policy then they can hide them better.

The oldest style would be the tribal tattoos. Beautiful elaborate patterns in various sizes, they represent the culture one comes from. Like fine line, watercolor tattoos have become a popular style—taking away the traditional black ink used as an outline so the colors have the spotlight. No color in a piece is blackwork and then there’s realism where it’s pretty much a picture that was printed onto the skin. Go on Pinterest and you’ll find multiple images of patchwork style where a collection of pieces put together can be any style already mentioned.

Japanese style, patch, geometric, black & gray, anime, portrait, the list goes on and on. So many ways to put a design on one’s body where it will remain until they go to the next life. Some people stick to pieces that represent sentimental value, like family or childhood nostalgia, others will simply see something they like and go, “I think it looks cool.”

When looking at Y/n’s tattoos, both aspects were seen in the array of artwork coating her body. After getting all the pieces that represented a person, place, or thing that impacted her life, Y/n started to get whatever the hell she wanted—not having an explanation for anything other than, “it looked badass so I got it. No value behind it, I just wanted it.”

Like many newly turned teenagers itching to get their first tattoo, Y/n was bold and got an intricate design on one of the most painful spots. Her reasoning was if she did it, then any other place in the future wouldn’t be as bad. All through college whenever asked what she wanted for her birthday or holidays the answer was always money to get a tattoo. An artist herself, she majored in drawing while attending Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, New York, also taking on an apprenticeship for a local tattoo artist. There she would get to work on her skills and tattoo people, progressing to doing tattoos on her legs and non-dominant arm. Anytime she traveled to a different state or country during the semester she studied abroad, Y/n got a new tattoo, wanting to have an array of styles from different artists on her body.

By the time she was 26, she had accumulated over 50 tattoos and still had room for more. From her neck down, artwork ranging from fine line to bold and traditional decorated her skin. Both her arms were half sleeves, ending just above her elbows with patchwork along her forearms and hands. The only place free of ink on Y/n was her face, though she did have her inner lip tattooed. If you asked her, it’d be the only place she regretted getting ink because it faded so quickly. But then again, she could get it redone if she really wanted to.

There were looks from people anytime she went out. Y/n loved dressing up in little black dresses and two piece sets to unapologetically show off her tattoos. Older, conservative couples or people who thought tattoos looked trashy on women would look down upon her. Getting hit on was normal, though she never gave the time of day and sending one look that read, ‘get lost’ had men scurry. Sometimes she'd be approached by teenagers asking about certain pieces, saying they wanted to get tattoos once they were of age and were looking for advice. Biker bars were a place she felt comfortable in, Y/n even taking a part-time job as a bartender so make some extra cash. People from all ages—well at least 21–were covered in tattoos like her.

In 2014, shortly after her 25th birthday, Y/n noticed an inbox notification in her instagram. She was used to getting messages on occasion. Being featured on the bar’s and tattoo parlors business instagram pages and accumulating her own following of potential clients had Y/n reach up to 80 thousand followers. The tattoo artist she worked for was very popular, having done work for celebrities and being featured in Inked Magazine.

Speaking of Inked Magazine…..

When Y/n clicked on the icon to open the message, the first thing she spotted was the blue checkmark. Then beside it was in bold lettering inkedmag. Coffee nearly spilled onto the floor when her grip faltered, gasping lightly at the name. She didn’t even realize the page was following her, confirming this by searching herself under their following and found her username staring back at her.

Heart pumping, Y/n opened the message. “Hi, Y/n, my name is Manda Williams and I’m a representative at Inked Magazine. We’re a fan of your profile and would love to work with you on our upcoming campaign. Would you be interested? Please email me at [email protected], I look forward to talking with you soon.”

Never did she think she’d become a model, let alone a tattoo model. She was taller than the average woman, standing at about 5’10 and strikingly beautiful. On countless occasions family members would say, “if you didn't have all that on you maybe you’d been discovered. You’ve got the height, the style, and high fashion look. Plus you’ll never get a well paying job with all those tattoos.” All they were met with was a roll of the eyes from the woman, annoyed with the constant nagging.

“I’m an artist,” she would defend. “I got accepted into one of the most prestigious art schools in the country and I work for a very renowned tattoo artist who has had Snoop Dogg, Angelina Jolie, and Lady Gaga as clients. Not to mention I work at a biker bar where the people there love me. Want me to go further?” the look on their face would read they didn’t but Y/n would put the nail in the coffin with, “Let me point out the fact I get paid more with both those jobs combined than you working a nine to five in your little office job. Also you should educate yourself. Tattoo models do exist.”

If only those family members could see her now. Posing on a motorcycle in nothing but a bra and booty shorts as the camera flashed in front of her.

“You’re a natural, Y/n,” the photographer complimented, making her flustered.

She adjusted her position, running a hand through her hair, “If you think so I trust your judgment.” Being in a studio felt very different than when she would set up her phone on a tripod in her apartment. It took many tries for her to capture the perfect angle, often deleting fifteen out of sixteen photos. Here with this guy calling out movements, “a little to the left,” “bring your hand up—just under your chin, perfect,” “Now act like you’re suntanning on the beach—tilt your head back as though the sun is in your face,” Y/n felt what it was like to be a model.

Not many tattooed individuals got the chance to sign with top agencies like Ford and IMG. Very few were recruited so it came as a big surprise when an agent from IMG Models contacted her following the release of Inked Magazine’s issue. When she took the job she thought it would be a small section in the magazine itself. Instead, she was on the cover.

“You don’t have an agent?” Bonnie’s tone was confused, staring back at Y/n from behind her desk as they sat in her office at the IMG headquarters. Bonnie had seen her cover on Inked, immediately going to Y/n’s instagram where she contacted her though the email listed on the tattoo parlors page. From there she asked the artist to bring a portfolio, which she was shocked to find out wasn’t much. “That was your first model job?”

Y/n shrugged, making a face like it was obvious, “Unless you count the dozens of comments I get on instagram beggin for my next post, yeah it was. I’m a bartender and tattoo artist, modeling wasn’t something I thought was in the cards.” She refrained from adding, “also didn’t think IMG scouted people like me.”

It was safe to say Y/n was unlike the typical runway model. Every now and then a high fashion show would hire a man with tattoos to walk for them. Very rare would you see a woman on the runway. For Y/n, that seemed to be the case in the beginning of her career. She did walk in the Marco Marco show that year which was the highlight of her life. Inked Magazine got so much response on her first feature that they made her their staple girl. Y/n worked with them the most on campaigns and even got to do a cover shoot with celebrities like Travis Barker and Kehlani. Those features got her a lot of recognition to the point she hit one million followers on instagram.

It wasn’t until Y/n went viral on the internet for her Sports Illustrated cover and becoming the first inked model to be featured in a Victoria Secret campaign that the top designers were booking her. Before long she was auditioning for brands during fashion week, securing Tom Ford, Calvin Klein, and Oscar de la Renta. Due to her tattoos being the star of the show, there were hardly any clothes on her save for tiny tops and skirts or dresses with intricate cutouts. She didn’t mind of course. After all, her tattoos were a part of her and the reason she was getting the opportunities of a lifetime.

Milan, Paris, London, New York. Fashion week was gonna have to get used to a new face in town.

Vogue, GQ, Vanity Fair, Inked. Pick up an issue and you’d find Y/n on at least one page, if not the cover.

Every now and then she’d get asked to appear in music videos for bands. The Weekend once asked her to be the cover art for one of his singles, bringing her more attention as "The Inked Beauty from Blinding Lights cover art.”

She appeared on the Inked Magazine YouTube channel several times. The most popular video being when she did a Q&A released shortly after walking in the last ever Victoria Secret Fashion Show in 2018, becoming the first inked model to walk the VS runway. Though it had low ratings, Y/n’s bit was plastered on every social media site, many tweeting: “the best thing VS could’ve done for their final show was put Y/n L/n in it. She carried the damn thing.”

“Hello, I’m Y/n L/n,” she smiled shyly at the camera, her agent Bonnie and publicist giving a thumbs up. “I’m a tattoo and high fashion model from New York City. You may recognize me from the cover of Inked Magazine, or discovered me through some of my other projects over the last couple years—hell maybe I even tattooed you at one point,” chuckling as she feels her nerves slowly evaporate. “Today I’m here with Inked Magazine, the owners of my heart and career, and I'm gonna answer some questions sent in by you guys about my tattoos and career.”

The producer gives a nod, “Ready, Y/n.”

“Let me hear them, sonny boy.”

“What was your first tattoo and at what age did you get it?”

Thankfully she was wearing a tube top beneath her jacket, removing the clothing to reveal the many inked designs on her chest, and stomach. Pointing to the one just below her ribs, Y/n says, “So this was my first one—as you can tell by how faded it is compared to the others. I got it when I was eighteenth birthday, literally wasted no time and my family is actually who inspired it.”

“As of right now, how many tattoos do you have?” The question has Y/n think for a moment, tilting her head back slightly.

“I counted just the other week and I think it was close to…. seventy,” nodding she adds, “yeah I think that’s right. I know I had fifty when Inked contacted me four years ago for my first feature. So I’ve added twenty to the collection since.” She made a mental note to count again when she got home that night.

“Do you have any tattoo regrets?”

A nervous chuckle escaped, “Fuck, uh….yes,” she looks down shamefully, but gives a shrug like, ‘I can explain.’ Lifting her head back up, Y/n takes her two index fingers and gently pulls down her bottom lip to reveal the messy smudged ink that once read, ‘baby girl’. The camera zoomed in and once they got a good shot of it Y/n let her lip fall back into place, “I don’t know if you were able to read that but when it was freshly done eight years ago it said,” she pulled a face showing she was too embarrassed to say it. “It said ‘baby girl.’ I got it when I was twenty on a dare and frankly I thought it would be hot, but it faded so quick—which,” she raised a finger, “that’s the one place I would say don’t get a tattoo. Even though it’s technically temporary…you’ll end up with a blob of ink like mine and it’s not cute.”

“Where were the most painful spots you got tattooed?” Immediately she lifted her arms to show she had ink on her armpits.

“These basterds right here,” the producer and crew laughed, nodding along with her. “You feel me? Yeah, I thought the ones on my stomach and ribs were bad. Those were a tickle compared to my armpits—-oh and my elbows. I think I actually broke a sweat when I got those done. It’s why I have yet to conquer my knees,” patting the covered area, Y/n shakes her head, “I don’t know If i can do it. But funny enough, these tiny little hearts on my palms,” Y/n flashed her palms up, the camera focusing on the two red lined hearts in the middle of each hand. “These hurt so bad. Thankfully I’m not putting anything else here because I strictly wanted the hearts, so I’m sparing myself.”

“What do they mean?” The producer asked, taking a pause from reading out the next question. The little smile Y/n gave was shy.

“I was told a lot growing up that I keep my heart in the palm of my hand,” while she explained Y/n kept glancing at the hearts, “kinda like the saying, ‘wearing your heart on your sleeve,’ but with me it’s literally in the palm of my hand. So I got these little hearts on my palms—that way when I hold someone’s hand, they can feel the love and care I have for them,” sending a wink to the camera she finishes with, “because my heart is in my palm.”

“Have you ever dated anyone with more tattoos than you?”

“Noooo,” she snorts. “Not because I’m not open to it—I’m very attracted to people with tattoos. And I have dated people with a lot…it just seems that anytime I do get into a serious relationship, I’m the one who has more than the other. And if you’re thinking about who I think you are—,” Y/n points directly to the camera, like a mother scolding her child, “the answer is no, he did not have more than me. Louis has thirty-three, I believe, since the last time he and I talked—which was,” she pauses to think, “I think around New Year’s.”

“Do you find yourself enjoying campaign shoots or runway shows more?”

“That’s hard,” Y/n pouts, causing her agent to chuckle since she knew the answer first hand. “Both are fun in their own way. I love being able to come into a studio or go out on sight and do a photo shoot—except in the fucking winter because I’m usually half naked freezing my ass off.” She pauses to laugh with the crew before continuing. “And then there's this feeling of ‘wow, that just happened,’ when I step off the runway. Getting to work with designers I’ve idolized since childhood and being the face of Mugler is a dream come true. If I had to choose…..it would be campaigns and photo shoots. There I can express myself more freely.”

“Do you see yourself still modeling in ten to twenty years time?”

There was a question she had to think about, taking a moment before answering. “I sure hope so. I love my job and definitely see myself continuing in the future. As long as my agent Bonnie and Inked don't get tired of me,” she laughs, winking at the woman who blows her a kiss. “But honestly I have experience as a tattoo artist so I could see myself opening my own parlor. I’d love to start my own blog or get other tattoo models into the industry. There’s a lot to think about what the future holds, but for right now I’m gonna have fun in the present.”

While home in New York when not booked, Y/n continued to work part-time at the tattoo parlor. She left the bar shortly after signing with IMG, but still visited whenever she could. There was even a picture of one of her Inked shoots framed above the bar.

With her new found fame the parlor had little to no openings each month. Regulars and new clients had to call in to reserve an appointment the second the schedule was dropped, which was sometimes weeks in advance. Several of the friends Y/n made in the modeling industry would get tattoos from her, though they always tended to go for the fine line style. More celebrities booked with her boss, adding Cardi B, Rihanna, and Louis Tomlinson to the list. The latter whom, as mentioned, Y/n actually got romantically linked to in mid 2017. It only lasted a few months, but the photo of the two on the Inked instagram was the most liked on their page.

Louis wasn’t the only high profiled person Y/n was involved with. Unfortunately the downside to fame meant her personal life was to be blasted on every inch of the internet. From starting her modeling career in 2014 to spring of 2019, she’d been spotted with actors Michael B. Jordan, Tom Felton, and fellow model Vladimir Ivanov. Like Louis, they only lasted a couple weeks to months—save for Vladimir which lasted almost over a year—and ended on good terms where they remained friends.

Frankly when it came to settling down Y/n hoped to find someone who was sweet and down to earth. Who was a hard worker—passionate about what they did for a living and wanting to share that with her. Someone who could make her laugh and feel like she was the only girl in the world. It was hard finding someone like when the spotlight follows you around. Y/n had been in the public eye going on six years and due to her connections with big named people she never seemed to catch a break when it came to romance.

All those qualities she desired in a life partner came to her in the form of the adorable weapons system officer she met at a party in November of 2019. The poor guy felt so out of place. From behind the bar Y/n could see him at the corner glancing around like he was searching for someone. Only getting a glimpse at the side of his face, she didn’t recognize him. The party had many from the fashion industry to celebrate Anna Wintour’s 70th birthday. What was ironic was Y/n took up the task of working the bar, kicking into her skills from when she was a bartender at a popular biker club in Manhattan. With her view she was able to see the entire floor as people entered.

The man she’d been eyeing must’ve come in when she was busy making the Hadid sisters their drinks. He wore a white dress shirt with some slacks and a matching blazer. His glasses reminded her of the popular style from the 80s. Come to think of it, they were probably the aviator style. He was tall, roughly six foot so she’d be eye level with him considering she was wearing two inch kitten heels.

Seeing his flustered demeanor and the fact he looked like he didn’t know what the hell he was doing there—not to mention he was handsome from what she could see, Y/n waltzed over, “May I get you anything?”

When he spun around she was met with the most gorgeous pair of blue eyes staring back at her. They blinked rapidly, like they were trying to decipher if she was in fact real. Then they snapped straight to her neck, following the ink of the exposed skin on display from her red latex mini dress—which his face mirrored the color of since he was making it quite known he was checking her out. He had a baby face to him, which was kinda adorable, and Y/n assumed he was maybe a year or two younger than her.

Offering a smile Y/n said, “So what will it be?”

“Huh?” He said confused before remembering what she initially asked before he got distracted. “Oh uh, just water please.” Still smiling, Y/n took a clean empty glass and filled it with ice before adding the water. Finishing it with a straw she placed it on a napkin in front of him.

“Will that be all?”

“Yes. Thank you,” he took the glass, glancing around briefly before letting his shoulders drop.

“You seem a bit out of place,” Y/n wiped down the countertop, catching his attention again. The man nervously laughed, adjusting his glasses.

“Is it that obvious?”

“A bit,” she teased, nodding her head to the crowd in front of them. “All these people walk around like they own the place. You’re the first person I’ve seen tonight who doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing. Are you here with someone?” Part of her was hoping he’d say a friend invited him, feeling a sudden rush of butterflies at the way he looked at her—like he couldn’t believe she was real.

“My sister dragged me along,” he confirms, the model mentally sighing in relief. But she couldn’t get her hopes too high. For all she knew he may have a partner back home. “I was visiting her this past week and she begged me to come. I told her it was a bad idea since I’m not….part of this crowd.”

“Ah,” she hums, biting back a grin at the way he described the industry. “Not a model or influencer, I take it?”

“Nooooo,” his laugh filled her stomach with butterflies. “Not at all. I don’t know how to work social media. Are you?”

Y/n refilled a guest's drink and handed over a beer to another, “I dabble here and there,” it was refreshing to meet someone who wasn’t familiar with her work. Usually at events like the one they were at she had people coming up to her already knowing who she was. “You’re probably like, ‘thought she was just a bartender,’” she giggled at the flustered look taking over him. “I was one before being discovered. I’m doing this for fun honestly—-and because Anna likes what I make her.”

His eyes went to her neck and collarbones, lingering on the ink. She assumed he’d never seen a model with so many tattoos before. “You can look,” she smirked, when he glanced away from being caught staring. “You’re only seeing a small portion of the canvas,” his eyes went wide at her words, making her giggle, “these babies are the reason I’m in this business.”

“You're a tattoo model?”

Y/n raises a brow at the surprise in his tone, “Didn’t know they existed, handsome?”

“No-no,” he quickly apologizes, “sorry I meant no offense. I knew there were models with a lot of tattoos. My sister told me that the industry was starting to expand by signing more people with them.” His words have Y/n intrigued. Obviously his sister was someone in the business, she wondered if she knew her.

“Is your sister one?”

“No, she’s an agent,” Y/n stops what she’s doing, towel long forgotten.

“For a modeling agency?”

“Yeah.”

“Which one?” Just as the question left her lips, Bonnie’s voice interrupted the two, “Bob, there you are! Oh good—,” she grins wide when she sees who he’s talking to, “You guys met!”

Snapping their heads toward each other, the two have the same expressions of, “wait what?”

Bonnie claps her hands, coming beside Bob at the bar and motioning between the two, “Y/n, this is my brother, Robert—the one I was telling you about last week,” mouth slightly agape, remembering the conversations the two had about Bonnie’s brother—in which the agent suggested setting up a date between the two—Y/n watches Bob react the same when Bonnie then says, “Bob, this is Y/n L/n. One of my clients at IMG—I know I’ve mentioned her before to you.”

Not knowing what to do at first, Y/n extends her hand to formally introduce herself, “So you must be the famous, Bob,” butterflies swarm her stomach again by the warmth of Bob’s hand when he goes to shake it. “I’m Y/n. So nice to finally meet you—Bonnie’s told me a lot about you.”

“W-wow,” Bob stutters, mentally hating himself when he does. “It’s really nice to meet you too, ma’am. I wasn’t expecting to meet you tonight, but now I see why Bonnie was so adamant I come.” A pointed look is thrown at Bonnie, who shrugs with a smile like she did no wrong.

“Well seeing as you two found each other without me, I’ll leave you both to it. Bob, let me know if you plan on riding with me back to the house or if you catch a ride. And Y/n I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning.” Winking, Bonnie takes the Cosmopolitan Y/n made for her and scurries off, leaving the two alone.

“I should’ve known,” Y/n laughs lightly, topping off Bob’s water. “Your sister has brought you up the past couple times she and I have gotten together,” lips curl into a smirk, “she wasn’t lying when she said you were a cutie.”

Bob turns red, smiling shyly, “when she told me about the inked beauty she worked with, she left out the fact you’re a walking piece of art.” His boldness impressed her, Y/n leaning closer to him against the bar top, resting her elbow on to so she could lean her head on her hand.

“How long are you gonna be in New York?”

“Till Wednesday,” part of her was disappointed that it was only four days away considering it was currently Saturday. But it was enough time for something to blossom.

“Tell me about yourself, Bob. The night’s early and I could listen to you talk for hours. Let’s see if Bonnie was psychic when she said we’d be quite the puzzle when put together.”

Ever heard of the type of couples where the girl radiates black cat energy and the guy is a literal golden retriever?

That was Y/n and Bob to a tee.

Out in public they stood out—even in a city like New York. Then when Y/n went to San Diego to meet his friends for the first time after four months together—which also resulted in her being stuck in California due to lockdown from the covid pandemic—it was like everyone couldn’t believe someone like Bob was with someone like Y/n.

He was a quiet, reserved naval officer and she was a sharp-tongued, world renowned tattoo model. They were the definition of the couple in high school you’d never expect would hit it off.

When Bob introduced Y/n to the squad, they instantly knew who she was, but had different ways of discovering her. Nat saw her walk in the VS Fashion show, Mickey and Reuben recognized her from The Weekend’s cover art, Javy remembered her from an episode of Ink Master she appeared on, Jake saw her on the cover of Sports Illustrated, and Bradley actually got a tattoo from Y/n when he was in NYC.

The entire period Y/n was in San Diego she grew close to the squad, even Maverick who had a lot of questions about her work and tattoos. “You think I’d look good with them at my age?” Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at the question, ensuring the Captain with a pat on the back.

“Some of the sexiest men I’ve met have been your age with ink more in than me,” she giggles when he goes red. “I worked at a biker bar in New York City. Believe me, Pete. Anyone can look good with some ink.”

Needless to say when it came time for Mav to get a tattoo, Y/n was the one doing it.

A lot of the squad ended up getting work done by her. Jake, Mickey and Rooster had a few already so they were familiar with the process. Nat only had one from a drunk night in college, which Y/n redid on her behalf since it had faded. Payback was a man who liked bold, meaningful tattoos so sometimes Y/n had her work cut out for her but she always came through.

“Yo is this gonna hurt bad,” Javy was practically sweating as Y/n removed the stencil from his shoulder. The design was a geometric sun about the size of an airpod case.

“It’ll sting, but this area generally isn’t too painful. If this was your bicep then it’d be a different story.”

Javy didn’t look convinced, turning to look at the guys while the stencil dried, “How was it for you guys?”

“Didn’t hurt at all for me,” Rooster shrugged, “my bicep was worse—like she said.”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine,” Payback waved a hand. “You see how tiny it is? It’ll be over before you know it.”

Going over the details once more to confirm the colors and shading, Y/n moved her chair closer after turning on the tv to an episode of Chopped. “You ready, Jav?”

“Ready,” he didn’t really sound like it but it was too late to back out. The buzz of the needle filled his ears and soon the stinging sensation they all said had him clutching his first.

“Try to relax, man” Bob sat on the chair next to Y/n, “being tense won’t help.”

After over a year of dating Bob had his fair share of tattoos. His were mostly small and easily hidden by his uniform. When they first got together, Bob loved learning about her tattoos. When she got them, why she did. If there were any meaning behind certain ones and if she planned to get more.

She was like a walking art gallery. So many colors and styles. Large and small. Y/n told him stories about almost every one—even if they were embarrassing like the inner lip tattoo.

“Biggest mistake,” she wiped a tear after she was done, the two laughing so hard. “Not only did it hurt but it faded not even a year after I got it. Now it looks so bad—I should get it redone but what’s the point when it will just end up looking the same.”

Bob hated when people would give her looks of disproval when they’d go out, usually from those who were unfamiliar with Y/n’s work. One time he nearly got into a bar fight with a older gentleman who thought it was okay to call Y/n a Jezebel. Rooster and Mickey had to hold him back, but Y/n simply looked at the guy and said, “Baby, I’m a fucking millionaire because of these bad boys. While you’re about to kick it the dust I’m gonna be on the cover of Vogue magazine next month. So eat shit and die already.” The man was left speechless, making her and the squad smirk in victory. The equally tatted bartender who knew of Y/n whistling and even given her a free round.

“That was so fucking hot,” Bob pulled her into a searing kiss when they left the bar moments later, Y/n smirking against his lips, “You think that was hot? I’m a mess under these pants from seeing you so worked up, baby. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Whenever he and Y/n would cuddle she’d trace the raised ink with a finger, Bob doing the same to hers and committing them to memory. He loved to kiss the ones on her neck and collarbones, but his favorite were the tiny hearts on the palms of her hands.

“What do these mean,” he asked one day during the early days of their relationship. They were laying out on the hammock, taking her hands to admire the collection of small tattoos along her fingers and wrists. He hadn't even realized she had any on the palms until he flipped them over. There his thumbs traced over the red outline of each heart.

“If you ask any person I’ve ever loved or cared for they’d tell you I carry my heart in the palm of my hand,” she flips her hands so they are holding Bob’s, the tattoos against his skin. “So when I hold people’s hands, they know a piece of my heart lies with them.” Letting her head fall back against his shoulder, Y/n shifts so her lips are against his jaw. “And I’m kinda hoping you’re the only one who gets to hold them from here on out.”

Anytime after that Bob would press a kiss to the hearts whenever he held her hands. Then when asked about what tattoo of Y/n’s was his favorite his answer was always, “the hearts.”

His family adored her. At first they were put off by her striking image but learned quickly Y/n was perfect for Bob. The children of his siblings loved taking washable markers to color in the tattoos Y/n had that were black and white. “Can I draw you a tattoo someday?” Little Emma asked shortly after the couple celebrated one year. She was a little artist who loved asking questions about the pretty pictures on Y/n.

“Of course, my love,” she promised. “Draw me whatever you desire and I shall get it done.”

The first fashion show Y/n booked after the pandemic Bob had front row seats. With his phone out he was the ultimate cheerleader, though he refrained from whistling or making noise so as to not embarrass the model, but would be in absolute awe when she strutted past him. It was the Tom Ford show, Y/n had walked out in a long black trench coat, coming to the end of the runway first before removing the item to reveal a silk dress underneath. It was spaghetti strapped with an open back, thigh slit to compliment her legs and the cameras loved it. She walked a few steps back up and turned to strike one last pose before making her exit.

Bob was mesmerized. It was the first time he’d seen her walk the runway and my God if he wasn’t already a simp he sure was then. A photographer captured his reaction to her discarding the coat and it went viral on Twitter.

@ inmyreputationera: if my man doesn’t look at me like @inkedbyY/n bf at NYFW then I don’t want it.

@ Inked✔️: We’re all Bob Floyd when @inkedbyY/n steps onto the runway.

When it came time to pick out her wedding dress Y/n was unsure of the route to go. It’d been five years the two were coming up on, one year of being engaged with the wedding to take place in North Island. A beach wedding in the late fall, Y/n wanted to look elegant and classy.

“Whatever you choose you’ll gonna look amazing, darling,” Bob kissed her head after she sighed when shuffling through bridal magazine pictures of dresses she’d cut out. “You know I love your tattoos—they are a part of you and I don’t want you feeling like you have to cover up for the sake of pictures. Baby, you’re one of the top models in the world. Like you told me when we first met, those babies are what got you discovered. Show them off.” Rubbing her shoulder exposed from her tank top, his lips pressed to the ink covering the skin. “But if you like this,” he pointed to the dress she kept going back to in her pile, it was elegant and pretty with neckline that fell just below her collarbones. “Then you should get it because you love it.”

The ceremony dress ended up being the one with a high neckline. It had open back with Y/n deciding on a her veil cascading down to the floor to become a small train rather than having the dress itself have it. Lace covered her arms, the ink peeking out from beneath to make the material stand out more due to the contrast.

She was stunning. An actual goddess that had Bob’s jaw drop the second his eyes landed on her. For the reception Y/n changed into a white two piece set that showed off her legs.

And you best believe she hired local tattoo artists to do a ‘spur of the moment’ tattoo booth at the party.

It didn’t take long for Inked Magazine to want to do a bridal shoot with Y/n. And if you look at it one way, it was a full circle moment. The issue marked ten years since they discovered Y/n and blessed her with the career of a lifetime that led her to meeting the love of her life.

All because she had a knack for getting ink.

……………..

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa

#Spotify #bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x y/n #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd fluff #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick #lewis pullman imagine #lewis pullman #tattoo!reader #tgm fluff #tgm imagine

[ddollfface]

Hii~ it's me again.

You said The Athlete has siblings right? How is he with them? Or just generally with his family, as of current day?

Also, (with Childhood bestf Darling) what would he do if they had a crush? What if it was one of his other team members?

Nobody can convince me that the absolute black cat of a darling I have in mind would ever have a crush in a normal way.

At first, darling is crushing hard on someone, doesn't really realize it, but a certain other guy does. Then, when darling does realize, they do everything in their power to push that person away and I imagine he's right there, on calls with them late at night as they complain about their crush, because-

"he's horrible, right? And he doesn't even like me. Ugh. I hate him so much. He's cruel, and selfish, and arrogant, who'd like a guy like that?"

Insert our boy with the sweetest, "Of course, pumpkin. He's horrible, you know what he did last summer..." (Cue him telling darling about the most atrocious thing darling's crush ever did.)

- 💗 (Making an OC to ship with him is not a want, it is a need. Also, I absolutely love your writing style. The way you slip from third person writing to first person dialogue is really cool.)

𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗔𝘁𝗵𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗲 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

"When I looked into his eyes, I knew he was the one." Trigger Warnings; bad writing, spelling errors, vague baby trapping, reader can get pregnant, both yandere and reader have baby fever (self-insert lol), reader and yandere are 18+, descriptions of sex, sex is brought up, talking about yandere's bad childhood, yandere is a lovesick fool, 18+ If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ I'm splitting this ask into two different things 'cause it's easier on my tiny brain (I also think they're two completely different asks, so yeah). Also, my writing style (where I slip into thrid person) is inspired by @depravitycentral's writing, their literally so good, please go read it:)))

Okay, okay, so let me tell you about LoveSick!Athlete and his childhood, more so his siblings. LoveSick!Athlete is the oldest, though he does have an older half-brother. He's not too close to him, and he was never around. This means, that in the family dynamic, LoveSick!Athlete was the oldest.

Now, after him, he has a little sister, who he is very, very, very close to. Her name is Nayda and she's only a year or two younger than him, they have the same dad, who is a complete scumbag btw.

After Nayda and LoveSick!Athlete there's the twins, who are only two years old. They have a different dad from Nayda and LoveSick!Athlete. They're interracial babies (meaning they're a mix of black and white, in this situation), and this has caused a whole bunch of issues for LoveSick!Athlete and his mama. Especially since where he's from, people aren't the most accepting of interracial couples. There have been far too many times when these old ladies will make too many assumptions with their grabby-ass hands, leading to a whole assortment of problems.

LoveSick!Athlete is close with his family and he feels very protective over them, particularly toward his mama and sister. This is partially because they're women and he has a, slightly, closeminded view of women. He sees them as something he needs to protect. He was raised to never, ever hit a girl, ever. That was seen as unacceptable and it was something his mama would be pissed over.

However, this doesn't mean that he thinks women shouldn't work or anything, it's just that he feels an instinctual need to protect women, even if they can handle themselves. This stems from his unstable childhood; how he would see his mama struggle, both financially and romantically. Because she was the only woman he ever really interacted with, rather than his sister, he grew this instinctual, primal even, need to protect women based on his experiences of watching his mama.

Then there's the twins, Bijan and Abbas, who LoveSick!Athlete isn't too close with. Of course, when he's home for holidays, he always, always helps his mama and stepdad with taking care of the unruly toddlers. He enjoys taking care of them, but he doesn't really see them as his siblings, seeing as he was already out of the house by the time they were born.

Though, LoveSick!Athlete does have a good relationship with his stepdad, seeing as his stepdad is a far better man than his pa ever was. His stepdad was his mama's therapist (ooo interesting dynamic), and he really helped his mama through the filling of a restraining order process (it was against his pa). He even calls him dad, something he never did with his pa. LoveSick!Athlete's mama always makes them have "bro-time", as she calls it. She wants her two favorite boys to get along, and it warms her heart every time she sees them sharing a moment, usually, it's a conversation relating to her.

LoveSick!Athlete respects his stepdad as both a man and a person; he believes that he'll take good care of his mama when he isn't there, which is his top priority. He wants his mama to have a stable life, for her to get out of the projects, and have a nice home. LoveSick!Athlete, no doubt, is a mama's boy and always has been. He loves his mama to death and would love for you to meet her. He thinks she'd absolutely adore you, and she does (from what she's heard about you).

Due to how many siblings, and cousins, this man has, he's very, very, very good with children. Out of all of his cousins, he's the third oldest, meaning that he had to take care of all the younger kids. He was always left giving the baby the bottle or picking the twins up from school.

It wasn't his favorite thing in the world, being a babysitter, but it never bothered him too much as he's very good with kids. Babies seem to just relax around him, giving his mama much relief. He just has this atmosphere around him that kids just seem to love.

LoveSick!Athlete likes how energetic kids can be and how they seem to have a rose-colored view of the world. Their overall optimism really brightens his day and he can't help but let his mind wander, thinking of what your children would look like. Would they have your eyes? He hopes so; he really thinks your eyes are beautiful. The way your iris shimmers under light; how he can see his reflection in your eyes. It's like he can see right through you; your every emotion is reflected in your colorful eyes. Whatever you're hiding or refusing to tell him, he can see in them.

Sometimes, LoveSick!Athlete will just sit there and stare at you, without your knowledge, of course. While you two are on a date, he'll just watch you stuff your mouth, unaware of his peering gaze. He just can't rip his eyes away from yours; he sees his future in them, your future together. You'll catch him, eventually, staring at you like a lovesick idiot. And he'll just shrug, after all, he can't deny my feelings, sweetcheeks. You're far too easy on the eyes to not stare at! Don't derive a man from a good view, yeah?

He'll smirk, leaning his cheek against the palm of his hand, and smile slyly.

He's very subtle with his little baby fever spurts. He'll periodically have moments where he'll feel this overwhelming need to breed you, to make your tummy swell with his children. He wants to make you the mother of his kids, to make you a sweet, little mama. He knows you'd be great; you'd be such a good mother, he thinks.

When the two of you are cuddling, he'll absentmindedly rub his hand up and down your midriff, letting his calloused hand trail down to right above your center. LoveSick!Athlete would hold your waist a little tighter, the thought of you all stuff with him, him, him makes him go insane.

He'll hint it to you when the two of you are going at it; your legs hiked up on his shoulders; he's plowing through you. He's never quiet when making love, as he calls it, but when the baby fever is hitting hard, he's never closing his mouth. Little gasps and pants leave his mouth, going on and on about how you're the one for him, baby. God, you'd be such a pretty mommy. Mhm- let me make you a mama, c'mon, angel, I know we're young, b-but I'll make, make it happen. Umgh- for you.

And he'll pout and whine when you refuse to let him go raw, forcing him into a condom. He'll put every excuse in the book. It's too small, 'm too gifted for this tiny rubber, babes. Just lemme go in there, I swear I'll put out(((

He won't, that was a lie, but once you get to that point, where you're all sweaty, sex is heavy in the air, and your mind is all fuzzy, you won't care. You'll forget all about that stupid condom you were so adamant about a few minutes ago. And he's so, so, so glad you did, 'cause now he can let you have all of him, and I mean all of him. The thought of you all stuffed with his cum spurs him on, causing him to tighten his hold around your, already bruised thighs, and kiss up and down your belly, his muscular form hunched over your sweaty one.

LoveSick!Athlete just wants to be a daddy :( And you won't lie, the way he dots on his younger siblings causes your heart to clench; the idea of having a family, though you're both so young, becomes more and more appealing as the days pass by. You just know he would be a good father, you can tell by how his gaze softens with he sees a woman pushing a stroller or a toddler babbling on and on about some random bird they saw.

And he knows the same thoughts are flooding your mind, and he begs you to give in to them, but you always deny it, pushing his face away from yours. You are in college, trying to pursue a career, that you haven't even started, you don't have time for a family yet, you tell him, but all he hears is that you want to have a family with him, at some point. LoveSick!Athlete just has selective hearing, I suppose, as he just grabs your shoulders and gives you an excited smile. He leans close, whispering in your ear, so you do want to have kids? Yeah? I can make it happen; I can take care of you, just wait. I can wait, just for you. We'd be such good parents, babe.

Just wait, he'll convince you, eventually. He's very persuasive, me thinks ;)

#bad writing #lovesick #obsessive love #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere x you #x reader #yandere male #baby fever is hitting hard #💗!𝙉𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙮 #𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚 #𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡'𝙨 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚'𝙨 #anon <3 #anon request #requests are open #send requests #yandere headcanons #tw; toxic love

[usernameforaboredcat]

Head Over Heels (Law X TomBoyF!Reader)

(A little dabble I thought while taking a piss 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 like 3 minutes ago)

Warnings⚠: None

[Part 1/?]

Law meets Luffys older (by like a year) sister who honestly the type of girl he’d imagine being the big sister to the Straw Hat and BOY is she just fiiiiiiiine!

3 brothers!

Imagine growing up with 3 idiot brothers with only one of them being less stupid. Fist fights, rolling around in mud and dirt, covered in blood from hunting, needing a bath every night to not get sick. Haha God I love those idiots!

~

Law doesn’t know why he’s here, walking down a random street on a random island with the idiot Straw Hat Luffy. As the two walk, Luffy lets out a loud yell as he sees a familiar older girl walking down the street. “HEEEEEEY! (YYYYY/NNN)!”. He calls way too loudly, drawing the attention of everyone including the girl. She turns in confusion, the gasps as she looks over with wide eyes and a bright smile.

Luffy jolts off over to the girl, the Captain of the Heart Pirates groaning as he slowly walks to catch up. He sees her wearing baggy long pants and a bikini, saddles and a small pack bag through the belt parts of her pants. Luffy jumps and hugs her, who hugs him back. “No way! It’s so good to see you again little dude!”. She greets him. “I’ve missed you so much!”. Luffy cries. (Y/n) pulls off the younger kid, putting him in a headlock as she ruffles his hair with his knuckles.

“You little fuck! I thought your ass was dead you little shit! Scared me half to death! I swore I saw the light!”. She snaps at him angrily, tightening her hold as he starts to choke. “I-I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me!”. Luffy breathes out, spazzing in her hold.

The Heart Pirate Captain finally catches up, looking at the two with a raised eyebrow. “The hell are you?”. (Y/n) asks the taller man, looking up at him. A thump goes through his whole body, strange. “Th-this is my friend!”. Luffy chokes out, now trying to pull her arm away. “No shit! Can’t believing you made a friend that isn’t some 30 year old guy!”. She says happily.

Law looks at his now turning blue friend, his cheeks reddening at the sign of his face so squished against her boob. “Hope this little turd hasn’t been too much of a pain in the ass”. She tells him, finally letting go of Luffy to let him fall to the ground. ‘Yes, he has been a giant pain in my fucking ass’. “No, not at all”. He responds. ‘Damn it!’.

She then hums, getting on her tippy toes and leans right up into his face. “Holy crap! You’re that Law guy! I heard about you! Your bounty is like crazy high at like 3,000,000,000 berries!”. She points out in shock. “Yeah! Isn’t he awesome!”. Luffy cheers, now back on his feet. “It is quite impressive, I must say”. She hums, holding her chin with her hand as she nods.

“Uh…th-thanks”. He mutters, gripping the brim of his hat to lower it to hide his slowly growing blush. ‘What’s with this woman? Why am I like this? Damn it!’. “So, whatchu up to these days?”. Luffy asks his older sister, the two turning to each other. “Oh ya know, just traveling around looking for anything to do! Probably doing the least to piss off the old man out of us kids”. She answers, leaning with her hand on her hip.

“How bout you? I’ve seen that your bounty has only been goin up so ya still trying to be King of the Pirates?”. She asks. “Yep! And it’s only gonna go up and I’m gonna be king!”. He responds happily. She chuckles at her little brother. “I believe it! Remember I’ve been your number one supporter since day one”. She reminds him, nudging his arms with her elbow.

She then turns back to the other captain, feeling an arrow go through his heart when her eyes meet his. “Mind if I hang with you guys for a while? Just for a bit, I wanna catch up with my baby brother”. She asks him oh so kindly. Law felt as if his heart stopped, chocking and spitting out his own spit. Luffy laughs at his reaction while his sister just stares.

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a handkerchief, holding it out to him. “Do you…need this?”. She asks nervously, never really seeing a guy act like this before in her life. “Uh…”. He takes the handkerchief from her, feeling the soft fabric on his fingers. “Thanks”. He thanks, raising it to clean his face. “Oh man! You should have seen your face!”. Luffy laughs at his older friend.

He holds the handkerchief back to her, her hand grazing his as she takes it back. Her finger tips are as soft as silk, her fingers smoothly sliding off his. Laws nose suddenly bursts, blood gushing out his nose like a hose. “Holy crap!”. The girl yelps, jumping back while Luffy bursts out laughing again. “Hahaha! Now you’re like Sanji!”. He laughs, holding his stomach from all his laughing.

(Y/n) looks at her brother with a concerned expression. “Is he uh…usually like this?”. She asks him. “Hehehe, nope!”. He simply answers. All Law can do it turn away from the two, his face a dark beet red. Never in his life has he been this embarrassed just because of some girl. (Y/n) leans over so she can whisper in Luffys ear. “Should I leave and we catch up a different time?”. She whisper asks him, causing the younger boy to turn and look at her.

“No no it’s fiiiine! Just give him a minute”. He reassures her. She hums as she leans away from her baby brother, then just to lean back over. “He said he acts like a friend of yours, what’s he like?”. She asks him. “Oh you mean Sanji? He usually acts like that around girls, he really likes girls”. Luffy answer. Oh…OH!!! Oh~. “Oh I see~”. She coos, leaning away from her little brother again.

“Huh? Get what?”. Luffy questions. (Y/n) then grabs Laws hand, gaining his attention and causing him to freeze in place. “So Law, are you here for long? Perhaps we can meet up and you can tell me some stories of dumb shit my baby brother has done?”. She asks him, sending him a little wink. His nose starts to bleed again, but he’s able to muster out a nod. “Cool! Now why don’t we go somewhere nice and chat!?”. She says happily, linking arms with her brother and dragging the two down the street.

Trafalgar Law, Died Age 26

Death By Blood Loss & Heart Attack Caused By Luffys Hot Older Sister

#one piece law x you #one piece x reader #one piece law #one piece law x yn #one piece trafalgar law #one piece trafalgar law x reader #one piece trafalgar law x yn #one piece trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x yn #trafalgar law x you

[penwieldingdreamer]

A Shot in the Dark ~ Prologue

Well, welcome to my latest obsession - FBI and OA Zidan. This is a crossover between FBI, FBI: Most Wanted & Blue Bloods. Let me know what you think and if you'd like to be tagged in any future chapters.

I do not own any of the characters of the FBI Franchise and Blue Bloods, they belong to their respective owners

Summary It's said, you'll always meet twice in life. But you never thought it be in a hostage situation with a gun pressed against your head.

Warnings: hostage situation, canon typical violence, coarse language, smut in later chapters

The human mind is really the scariest thing of all.

Life in general is scary, and yet you step out of your home each day and face it. You imagine how a situation might turn out if you just changed one thing in your day to day life. Sometimes it’s the sandwich they didn’t have at the bakery and sometimes it’s the choice you make on the job.

“Andrew, drop the gun and let my sister go!” Detective Danny Reagan called, his own weapon trained on the former NYPD officer, voice shaking as he looked at you, seeing his own fear mirrored in your eyes. “She’s got nothing to do with this. You want me. Let the kids and her go.”

Shaking his head, former police officer Andrew O'Sullivan pushed the muzzle of his gun harder against your temple. "They are all the leverage I need to get you to do what I want."

"O'Sullivan! This is Agent Scott and Agent Bell with the FBI. Surrender your weapons and let the hostages go. We will make sure that your demands are met, but you need to let the kids and Miss Reagan go."

You could feel the tears running down your cheeks, but you knew you had to be strong for the children. Their parents put you in charge and you, as their teacher, needed to make sure they'd get out safe. “Please Mister O’Sullivan, you got me, let the children go home. They don’t have anything to do with this.”

Your heart was hammering in your throat watching your brother desperately trying to get Andrew to drop the weapon, the ground feeling like it was going to be pulled from underneath you. And here you thought it was going to be a good day today.

Five hours earlier, 9:15 Bluestone Lane Tribeca Café

"So, heard anything from tall, dark and handsome? You looked cute together."  

“Erin!”

“Mom! You’re embarrassing her.”

The lawyer grinned into her coffee mug as the three of you sat together for breakfast. "What!? I saw pictures from way back when. It's been more than four years now, just thought maybe you'd have a run in with him again."

"Nope, haven't seen him since before he started training at Quantico and you would know that. I'm practically living with dad and pop again after those idiots living above me wouldn't have smoked weed and forgot to shut off the water."

Nicky only rolled her eyes at her mother trying to play matchmaker – as always. “You should leave Y/N alone. Danny would have a field day if she came home with him.”

“Thank you, Nicky, I knew why you were my favorite niece.” You took a bite from your chocolate croissant. Usually you’d be getting the breakfast sandwich the café was famous for but today they were all out.

“I’m your only niece, so that’s not a hard feat to do.”

“Yet.” You pointed a finger at the younger woman. “And I don’t even know where he is. I’ll not be running after him and use dads resources to find him.”

“All I’m saying is that you should get laid, you can’t just stay a single workaholic forever." 

Sending your sister a disapproving look, you could see the disgust on your nieces face. She was old enough to be part of that conversation and already had one boyfriend, yet you knew she was absolutely embarrassed by her mother's choice of breakfast conversation.

"Mom! God! I'll be heading off to work or you'll start talking about dad and yourself." Nicky, so much like Erin grabbed her purse and to-go cup, leaned over to kiss her mother's cheek before she moved next to you. With her arm draped over your shoulder, she leaned in as if to whisper into your ear but still spoke at normal volume. "Don't let her bully you into looking him up. You do you, Auntie, but she's right, you need to get laid."

Slack jawed at her gall, you turned accusatory eyes on the lawyer. "That's definitely on you, Erin. You taught her to be like that."

"Well, she's definitely got that from me and she'd make a great lawyer like that."

Letting out a sigh, you leaned back in your chair.

Damn, they were right.

Quickly apologizing to God under your breath, you try to anchor yourself to your mug. It had been years since you had seen Omar. You had met him outside a bar in the Financial District, after a date had dumped her right before dessert, telling her she wasn’t worth his time.

“He’s a dick, he wasn’t going to know what to do with you anyway.”

You sat together at the bar and talked about random stuff – friends, hobbies, only things that wouldn’t compromise him as you later found out he was undercover for the DEA.

“You’re quiet, what are you thinking about?”

Blinking, you watched your sister with a small, wistful smile, something she had seen so often when you had gone out to have breakfast with Nicky and her every Saturday morning. “Nothing.” You shrugged your shoulders, but the secret smile that barely turned up the corners of your mouth was still there and the lawyer knew that one, she had seen it often enough.

Erin took a sip from her coffee, narrowing her eyes at you. “Don’t give me that shit, Y/N. It’s Tall, Dark and Handsome isn’t it?”

“Maybe.” You admitted quietly, looking down at your fingers, busy playing with the white napkin under your croissant.

“You should get Eddie to look for him, maybe he’s in town.”

Shaking your head vigorously. “No, I’ll not be looking for him. We would have seen each other, probably...maybe.”

“New York is huge, you think you’d just walk down Broadway and bam! There he is? Y/N, I can assure you, that’s not how it works.” She laughs, knowing all about it with her ex-husband Jack. “You want him, you need to look for him, he’s not just going to turn up if you snap your fingers.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to look for him, maybe it wasn’t meant to be if I haven’t run into him by now. Or maybe he’s somewhere in D.C., happily married with 1.93 kids, living in the suburbs and chasing the bad guys.”

Chuckling, the lawyer shook her head at you. “You got it all figured out now, huh? Maybe he’s still single, thinking about that maybe with you. He was really nice when he came around for lunch that day.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me, Eddie wouldn’t shut up about him for a week straight.” Just then your phone chimed, letting you know that you needed to get ready to get to your Junior High class for their field trip to the museum. You would meet them together with their parents right in front of the museum. “Shit, I’m late! Sorry Erin, I got to head off.”

“We’re not done talking about him!” She called after you as you raced out of the cafe to the next Metro station.

An hour and a half later you remind your seventh grade students to be nice and listen closely to the lady showing you around the National History Museum. “There’s going to be a test on Monday next week, so you guys should take notes on all of this.”

A groan ripped through the hall and I knew they hated me for this. “But Miss Reagan, you said we could have fun today.” Jimmy calls from the back, a frown on his cute face. 

Giggling, you shook your head. They were still thinking it was just going to stay easier from there on out. “I did, but it doesn’t mean you guys can slack off on your school work. This is going to help you with your Science project.”

Groans, followed by sighs from your students were the end of that conversation. You and the group of thirteen-year-olds followed Mrs. Langdon as she talked about the museum, which exhibitions had already been part of the building and what was waiting for the boys and girls of Lower Manhattan Middle School. They were in the Early Adolescence stage and it was absolutely normal for them to act like that. With Nicky, Jack and Sean you had been exposed to that stage early on and you loved them for it.

You entered the Saurichian Hall of the museum, awed by the skeletons, the hairs on your arms starting to raise from the goosebumps at the imagination of having lived back in time, 66 millennia’s ago. But somehow, it wasn’t the only thing that gave you the shivers. At the entrance of the museum you had seen a guy, dressed like everyone else. But you had been around police your whole life and listened to your bothers to know that something was definitely wrong with him. His head was down but you saw his eyes darting about like he was searching for something – or someone.

Getting to the next section, you slightly turned your head away from your students excitingly listening to the tales of each dinosaur exhibited at the museum.

There he was again, the backpack slung low on his shoulders and it looked like he was sweating. Was he sick and needed help? If so, wouldn’t he have asked the people at the front desk or even stayed at home.

Danny had always told you to be vigilant about suspicious people roaming about and this guy fit the description. Should you text Danny or Jamie? They were probably busy with their cases and if he was just a creep you’d make a fool out of yourself and maybe your dad in extension.

Police Commissioner’s daughter accuses visitor at the National History Museum to be a creep and makes a laughing stock out of the Reagan family.

Now that would be the headline of the week.

Turning back to listen to Mrs. Langdon and your students with a sigh you missed him pulling out a gun from under his jacket, pointing it at your back before slightly lifting it up and pulling the trigger.

11:40, Joint Operations Center

“Alright guys, we've got a hostage situation at the National History Museum. Twenty-two students from LoMa Middle School and their teacher. This is high profile. Detective Reagan with the NYPD called it in about fifteen minutes ago.” ASAC Jubal Valentine’s voice rang out through the JOC. He motioned to Elise, one of the Analysts to put every information on the screens. “This is Y/N Reagan, she’s a teacher at the school and also the daughter of New York City Police Commissioner Frank Reagan.”

Your picture popped up on the screens, a happy smile on your face as you sat together with your father and your brother Jamie at a city function.

“You know, now that I’m done with my trainee-ship as teacher, we could make it official. Dad wants me to tag along at this function or other and I’d like to take you as my plus one.” You smiled at him, your arms slung around his neck as you lounged together on his bed.

Omar ran his fingers from your shoulder to your elbow and up again. He loved the feeling of your soft skin under his hands, slightly roughed from the army. “It would be nice, I’d love to finally show you off to my family as well. Erin has been nagging me like a hen to know who the guy is making me smile all day.” He smiled, nuzzling her neck and listening to her giggles as his nose and beard rubbed up and down against that point where her neck met her shoulder.

"I'd like that. I bet your sister isn't the only one nagging." He chuckled, burrowing closer and pushing his lower half against yours earning a soft groan from you.

Your fingers raked over his head, feeling the short cropped hair tickle the palm of your hands. “Pop and dad are already giving me those penetrative looks, you know the ones where they are acting like cops and trying to read a suspects thoughts.”

Closing his eyes, the former army ranger breathed in your scent. It was the one thing that grounded him on days his mind sent him back to Iraq. “From what you told me I’m more afraid of your brother, not your father and grandpa.”

Omar moved next to Maggie, a soft Shit leaving his lips as his eyes swept over the screens. It had been a few years since he’d last seen you, only a few days short of leaving for his training at Quantico. Seeing your face, tear track staining your cheeks with the suspect pressing his gun to your head.

The brunette watched her partner, the fingers of his left hand anxiously playing with his ring. A sign that he was nervous. A sign Maggie had learned in the beginning when they first were partnered up.

“You know her?”

He sighed, “We, ugh, we dated for a while before, before I went into training. I...broke it off, because I thought she’d be better off without me.”

“Gosh, OA.” Maggie murmured, scratching a fingernail along her eyebrow thoughtfully. She knew her partner had been in relationships before – he was Muslim, not a virginal saint, but she had never seen him this distraught or anxious. 

It was clear as day that you were still important to him and it took everything in him to not run out the door and drive off toward the museum.

"What do we have on the suspect?" Isobel questioned, coming to stand next to her 2nd in charge. 

"Suspect is 40 year old Andrew O'Sullivan, former police officer with the NYPD, 54th Precinct and bomb specialist with the Marines. Detective Daniel Reagan, Y/N’s older brother was part of the investigation against him.” Kelly Moran, an analyst at the JOC spoke up, tapping hastily on his keyboard and sending the pictures of their suspect to the bigger screens. “He took drugs from evidence and tried to sell it on the street. O’Sullivan needed it for his daughter, she has leukemia and he was going to take the money to pay for her treatments.”

The analyst pressed a key to show the picture of a little girl, maybe ten years old, grinning at the camera. “Lena O’Sullivan, she”

“His daughter died two days ago, that’s why he’s doing it. He wanted to save her from it and we took the money that would pay for her treatment. Andrew has been angry with me for a while and called me after Lena died.” A new voice sounded from behind them, strong and authoritative, yet they could all hear the pain laced into his words. “He has my sister and if you guys don’t get a move on, Andrew is going to kill them all.” Detective Daniel Reagan had made his way to the JOC, knowing he couldn’t make a move against O’Sullivan without the people of the FBI. You were his little sister and he’d be damned just sitting around at the precinct when he needed to get you to safety. More so when Erin would have his head for being the reason the former officer had you and your kids as hostages.

#oa zidan x reader #oa zidan #reagan family #fbi #fbi most wanted #blue bloods #reagan sister!reader #danny reagan #fbi cbs imagine #blue bloods imagine #fbi x blue bloods #fanfic #fanfic writing

[callsign-rogueone]

wrong to love you

Garrick Tavis x Sloane Mairi 💌: Could I request a Garrick x Sloane angst where Garrick feels guilty/conflicted about having feelings for Liam's kid sister? words: 861 🏷: Iron Flame spoilers and mentions of sex / very mild objectification. written in third person, but Garrick's POV. I promise I love ***** as much as the next guy, but somebody has to be the antagonist here. I did not think my first character x character fic would be this, but here we are -- I read this ask and nearly fell down the stairs. literally. this pairing is something I had never considered until this very moment but I’m kinda obsessed with it — I had to put everything down and write this as a stream of consciousness (no editing, just brain worms.) let me know if you want me to make this a series, I guess?

Liam was an objectively pretty guy, but seeing his features on a woman is devastating. 

It feels wrong to call Sloane Mairi a woman, but it’s the truth; she’s grown in the six years since he’s seen her, from the tagalong younger sister into a goddess; gorgeous waves of golden hair, big ice-blue eyes and long eyelashes, soft pink lips and a little button nose, defined cheekbones…

and Gods, her body -- the muscle she’s put on in training for Basgiath, the way the flight leathers hug every curve of her waist and hips, squeeze every muscle of her thighs, all that dark black contrasting with the bits of pale skin peeking out from her collar and her sleeves… 

Garrick has always considered himself a gentleman, prided himself on being a man who thinks with his head instead of his dick, but Sloane Mairi has him re-evaluating those statements. 

Definitely wrong. Undoubtedly, incredibly wrong. Well… 

She’s an adult, he reasons. A dragon rider, even. She’s capable of making her own decisions, of defending herself with both body and mind -- she’d always been sharp-tongued, even before their lives went to shit; it’s one of the things he’d liked most about her. That and her laugh, that lovely sound that he thought he’d never hear again.

Nope. Still wrong.

It should feel wrong, he decides. It is wrong. It is so fucking wrong to sit here imagining her skin on his, how easy it would be to heft her over one shoulder and carry her up to his room, how soft and small she’d feel underneath him, those gorgeous blue eyes rolling back as he— 

Stop it, he hisses to himself, gritting his teeth. If he wasn’t in public right now, wasn’t sitting in the middle of the mess hall pretending to listen to Bodhi’s blathering about gods-know-what, he’d slap himself across the face.

Liam is totally going to haunt him for this. He’d deserve it -- the bro-code applies even in the afterlife; no perving on sisters allowed, older or younger, and Sloane is definitely younger. She’s hardly old enough to drink, for godssakes.

He could really use a drink himself right now, but that might make this even worse.

“Four years isn’t that much, even in the context of your little human lifespan,” Chradh reasons, sounding like he’s enjoying this — of fucking course he is. He’s always liked watching Garrick squirm.

“What about the fact that I’m her superior officer?”

“A small ethical complication, I agree. But if you don’t stake your claim, someone else will,” Chradh muses. “Someone might have already.”

Garrick’s about to snap back, to ask him what the fuck he’s talking about, when he finally notices who she’s sitting with, whose joke she’s laughing at, who’s shoulder she’s touching. 

He’s going to bend his fork in half from how hard he’s gripping it. 

Stupid, spoiled princes and their ceaseless fucking meddling in his life. First Alic and his outspoken hatred of Garrick and the other marked ones, going as far as making an attempt on his life during threshing. He would be dead, had Xaden not intervened; Alic had the conviction to go through with it, but he’d been a coward, jumping someone who had their back turned.

And now that prick’s little brother is flirting with his girl, not a care in the world, not a thought in that pretty little head. He hadn’t even known Liam, or their parents. He has no idea what she’s been through. What business does he have giving her a shoulder to cry on, when his dear old dad had been the one to decide to execute eighty-six mothers and fathers, to orphan a hundred and seven innocent children in one fell swoop and to sentence them all to life serving the crown -- if they made it out of that deathtrap school first?

And she has no idea who he is under that little working-class costume he’s been wearing for the last four months. Aaric Graycastle. Come on. Using the first name of the last king and putting castle in the surname? Not subtle at all. 

Neither of the apples fell far from the idiot tree, apparently. If Halden is as stupid as his brothers, then Navarre is doomed. As if it isn’t already. As if it hasn’t been cursed from the moment they tried to conquer Tyrrendor. Serves them fucking right.

At least the brat had jumped ship with them and came to Aretia to finally start living on the right side of history — though that was likely due to his disdain for his father. Does every son of the royal family have daddy issues? Is it a requirement? Something they teach you at those fancy boarding schools in Calldyr? 

Maybe Sloane had been the one to convince him to come along. Maybe Chradh is right — maybe they’re already together.

So help him gods, if that little prick prince lays another hand on his girl, if he tries anything, Garrick is going to beat him to a pulp.

“I guess you’ve made up your mind, then,” Chradh says, snapping Garrick out of his rage.

“What?”  “You called her yours. Twice.”

#idk how to tag this #fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #garrick tavis #sloane mairi #garrick tavis / sloane mairi #garrick / sloane #garrick tavis x sloane mairi #i don't know man #fuck it we ball #mine

[luciforbiddenlove]

My vision of a perfect world

I want to see a lot more younger women getting knocked up and impregnated by older men, seeing those women raising their kids together with their boyfriends while the older men continues planting their seed inside other young and fertile wombs. Ensuring that his bloodline will grow stronger as he's fucking his strong genes into her family tree for all eternity, even better if she's an only child or only have sisters who do the same, letting all and any random old stranger conquer their family tree and bloodline, those wonderful older men cementing their genes in as many family trees as possible. Older men are just so much better than the younger men today.. and i truly wish more if not all fertile young women would offer their wombs to older men only. Just imagine seeing some women walking down the street and recognising one or two of them, seeing their swelling bellies knowing you are responsible for putting those babies in them, though nobody else might know yet she will raise your son or daughter together with her boyfriend or husband, while you get to spend your time and energy pumping your seed into some other young woman, desperate to have your child. This is the world i want to live in and i'm doing my part to make it come true, i'm dedicating my body to only birthing older men's children, i will NEVER have a child with my boyfriend, i will ONLY let older men plant their seeds inside my fertile womb!!

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

I’m so glad you reblogged that post about asking about your fics because I have so many questions!

In the stepdaughter/daemon fics you write how do you imagine their lives would go once viserys dies?

Would the dance still happen the same way?

Would rhaenyra use her authority as queen to annul stepdaughters marriage? Would she take some sort of revenge on stepdaughter for ‘stealing’ her husband? If she does try to get back at stepdaughter would daemon kill her? If he does how would that affect the rest of their family? Whose side would stepdaughters brothers pick? The young ones are easily manipulated but luke and jace are old enough to have their own opinions. In a serious lethal conflict between rhaenyra and stepdaughter, would they pick their mother or their sister?

Since the relationship between stepdaughter and the greens seems more positive than the relationship between rhaenyra and the greens, would the greens agree to stepdaughter being queen? Would jace bend the knee to his younger sister?

This is getting long so I’ll save the rest of my questions for a different time

Now this would be interesting, if Viserys passed away and reader was Rhaenyra's eldest many would probably question if she would have her daughter as her heir considering she married her husband and they do not have a good relationship but also Rhaenyra would be considered a hypocrite if she were to pass the throne to Jacaerys after her. I believe the dance would still happen, the greens would still attempt to steal the throne and maybe this war could amend a little of the relationship between Rhaenyra and her daughter, they would bother mourn Lucaerys and reader would be very much down to help in the war either on dragonback or by giving strategies. The greens would ratehr die than see Rhaenyra or her offsprings on the throne, as long as Alicent and Otto are alive they would do their absolute best to not let that happen, Otto married Alicent to Viserys to get his own blood on the throne.

After Rhaenyra takes the throne, I doubt she would try to annul the marriage between Daemon (If he were to survive) and her daughter (Also if she were to survive). First of all she would fear Daemon's wrath, he is not called the rogue prince for nothing and he was unpredictable. Secondly since her relationship with her daughter improved they would build some kind of rhythm or harmony with each other and be more at peace with the idea of sharing a husband.

But if she were to actually annul the marriage between her daughter and Daemon (if they were not married in the ways of Old Valyria which can not be annulled) after the war then I see Daemon just taking his young wife and their children and just leaving. He would grow tired after the war and let's not forget his age as well by the time. Reader would defiantly agree with him and would leave with him and their children and he would a hundred percent marry the reader in the ways of Old Valyria so Rhaenyra then cannot push them apart and maybe then he would return to the Keep but after ensuring that he could keep reader by his side.

Jacaerys would be torn between the two, one is the woman who birthed him and raised him while the other was his sister that he grew alongside of and protected. He probably would try to be the voice of reason, the peace maker and probably the messenger between the two women. Rhaenyra was not heartless and she would use Jacaerys as way to get information on her daughter and her grandchildren like their wellbeing and she would probably grow worried if she were to hear one of them got sick but try to hide it but by then Jacaerys would see the weak spot and he defiantly would cease the opportunity and try to make amends between the two.

But if Daemon would go all rogue and instead kill Rhaenyra instead of taking the hard way out then the first thing he does after marrying the reader in the ways of Old Valyria would be crowning her queen after her mother. Even if that started a war with Jacaerys or Lucaerys (If he were to survive Aemond). He would fight his wife's war happily to protect her and their children. I think he would also keep Aegon and Viserys close, they were his sons after all, and would insist they were to be raised with reader's children and defiantly manipulate them to think Jacaerys or Lucaerys were evil and wanted to harm their family. Jace and Luce would think their sister was in danger and try to save her from Daemon but if she showed that she was on Daemon's side then they would not bend the knee for her to show mercy but if she did show that she was being forced into this by Daemon then they would do their best to save her and her children.

Your questions are very welcome and you can send as many as you wish. ❤️

#house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon aemond #hotd aegon #house targaryen #house of the dragon #aegon the second #daemon angst #aegon ii #daemon x oc #daemon targaryen #daemon imagine #daemon fanfic #daemon fic #daemon fluff #daemon smut #daemon targeryan #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon x y/n #daemon x you #rhaenyra x oc #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra imagine #rhaenyra fanfiction #rhaenyra fanfic #game of thrones fic #game of thrones #jaenera targaryen #jacaerys imagine #hotd jacaerys

[yandereend]

Hi!

I was wondering if you’d write a hazbin hotel imagine with a Yandere Lucifer x Reader x Platonic Yandere Ángel Dust?

Maybe Adam casted them out of heaven for rejecting him and they run into Angel Dust, who protects them and tries to keep their mind innocent like an older brother. (Either a actual sibling or just sibling figure is okay.)

They are very shy and when Lucifer comes to visit the hotel and sees them, he immediately falls in love much to Angels dismay who wants to keep them to himself.

If you don’t like the idea I totally get it and I hope you are having a wonderful day/night!

-W.P 💚

No I love the idea!!! It’s so great, I hope you like my take

🧡Yandere lucifer x reader x platonic Yandere Angeldust🩷

TW : hazbin hotel should be its own trigger, yandere stuff, kinda religious

Please keep in mind that English is not my first language

Your in hell and its not your fault. Nobody warned you that the first man would immediately set the record for the biggest asshole.

When you died at such a young age everything seemed good. Well considering the circumstances since your in heaven… yay. You loved your new look, the new wings and new boyfriend.

Adam was nothing like you expected. He seemed young, energetic and kinda hot ? So you two hit it off and he never lied about his nickname.

Dickmaster seemed like a nice guy and everything was going great.

And when he told you about Charlie Morningstar you where so excited. It was so cool and it was everything you thought heaven stood for. But … you were wrong, in Adams opinion you were and you learned quickly how fast he would throw someone away like a used toy.

So then you are sitting in the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel explaining your situation to the kindest woman you ever met, surrounded by sketchy figures you couldn’t judge immediately.

And here your now, standing behind your bestfriend Angeldust who shields you protectively from the supposed evil Lucifer Morningstar.

He was like a big brother to you, being your favorite person to laugh with and share your feelings about your ex-lover to.

Angeldust has so much sympathy for you, knowing how it feels to be betrayed by the one you love over and over again, but you will never feel like that again.

You both will be redeemed and go to heaven together and there he can take of you like you deserve. His little sister deserves nothing but the best, and he will be just that.

But Lucifer makes it so hard for him to achieve his goal. That bastard looks at you with those lustfull eyes hes seen so often and he hates it! He hates his dumb hat! His ugly grin! And why does he have that tail ?!

But its not just lust in lucifers eyes, its love. No maybe that’s not right. Obsession fits perfectly. Your just so sweet. Innocent like Eve was, but with the passion that Lilith had.

He sees his old life in you, back when he would spend his days with his brothers and the other angels, just like you. He wants you to himself, he deserves it after all his hardships!! He would treat you right! You can be Charlies stepparent! ..or maybe your younger than her … You two can have a new baby together!!

Yeah thats it, who gives a shit about Lilith?! Your the new Quenn of hell !

Or you would be, if he can convince Charlie to stop protecting you and that dumb spider bitch!

🩵I hope you liked it W.P🩵

I hope you all enjoyed, please tell me if you would like a second part. And feel free to leave feedback 🩵

#obsessive yandere #soft yandere #yandere community #yandere core #yandere fic #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere bf #yandere fiction #yandere stories #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere adam #yandere lucifer #yandere angel #Yandere Angeldust #yandere hazbin hotel x reader #anon ask #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin angel dust

[damewritesalot]

Being Dany’s younger half sister would include…

You’re Daenerys and Viserys’s younger sister, your mother fled Westeros and found refuge in a major lord’s estate. He descended from Valyrians who left Westeros during the Dance, and was very sympathetic to her. You were born to the Queen and her protector. Viserys hated it there, he hated his mother for sullying targaryen blood. But you were your mother’s favorite.

Your father was deeply disturbed by Viserys’ sexual advances on you and Dany, and decided he was old enough to be a trader’s apprentice. On the way, your brother came across a unique group of barbaric horse riders.

Unfortunately, your estate was attacked in the night by a Dothraki tribe and the Queen and your father were trampled and killed. What lands were yours by right were raided in this horrendous attack.

The rest of your childhood was harsh but Dany did her best to protect you from Viserys. His cruelty extended to trying to marry you off to a Dothraki Khal in exchange for an army, your emotional torment was the cherry on top. He wanted to keep Dany for himself as his wife. But she knew you were more hurt by them than her, and would suffer more.

Dany, who was being hidden by your brother, gets spotted by the Dothraki. She agrees to marry them to protect you, and the Khal didn’t want you anymore after seeing your much more beautiful older sister.

Viserys’ rage knows no limits. He’s stuck with you, the mongrel sister no one wanted. You’re under Dany’s protection in the Dothraki, silently resenting them but grateful for your sister’s sacrifice.

One day when they’re riding by what used to be your lands, you can’t take it anymore. Dany knows you’re growing older into a woman and she can’t protect you from being assaulted by her tribe. So she lets you go with a pouch of gold.

You promise to see her again. You’re relieved her life isn’t as terrible as she’d imagined, far better than with Viserys.

In the free cities you meet Septa, the faith of your parents. You do not wish to enter their ranks but they take you in all the same, looking after you. A couple months pass by quickly, you learn the art of healing during the day and you’re trading like your father in the night.

You hear of a war far away in Westeros, of the young wolf that fights the heirs of the Usurper. Some of the Septa you know will sail to heal the wounded. My fate lies there, you decide. You want to see the land which made you a princess.

#a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #asoiaf #robb stark x you #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #targaryen #house of the dragon #dothraki #game of thrones fanfiction #daenerys imagine #talisa stark #jeyne westerling

[loosingmoreletters]

Title: a decade more to breathe Summary: In which Wei Wuxian is ten years older.

Age 5

Jiang Fengmian looks at the weeping child in his bed and he has no idea how to console the boy. Wei Ying is old enough to understand his parents, Jiang Fengmian’s best friends, won’t return, and every attempt at leaving the boy has him breaking out in tears again.

He refuses to make him cry again when he’s all Jiang Fengmian has left.

Age 6

When Yu Ziyuan marries into Yunmeng Jiang, her husband already has a son and heir. Jiang Ying is nearly seven years old, and Yu Ziyuan cannot tell if she’d prefer the boy to be her husband’s bastard instead of this odd thing he loves.

The boy’s actual parents, her husband’s childhood servant and an immortal’s disciple, died on a nighthunt when the child was five. Outside of Yunmeng, there are plenty of rumors about why the Sect Leader was so quick to adopt the servant’s child, but at Lotus Pier, people are affronted at the suggestion he wouldn’t.

She loathes the boy as she does this marriage. Jiang Fengmian is not the spouse she would’ve picked for herself, even if the position of a great sect’s madam is. She sends the boy out when she can and finds that her husband goes with him, dotes on the adopted child as if it were his own.

He doesn’t know the difference yet, Yu Ziyuan thinks, between loving a stranger’s child and your own. Having their own children will teach him, she thinks.

Age 7

Jiang Ying loves his new baby sister. She’s cute and round and the best thing he’s ever seen in his entire life.

Not that Madam Yu allows him to hold her, but his father does. He makes Jiang Ying sit down in his lap first and Jiang Ying shuffles until he is comfortable before being given his new baby sister as a prize.

“You have to be very careful, a-Ying,” his father says. “She is very small and delicate.”

Jiang Ying pulls a face at that. He isn’t stupid, he can see that a-Li is very small and precious and he’ll protect her forever. She is his only baby sister, after all. Round and squishy like this, he almost imagines that she looks a little like him. She doesn’t because Jiang Fengmian is her father in a way he isn’t his, but he likes to dream for a moment.

He has a painting of his parents in his room, commissioned when he was even younger and wouldn’t stop crying when they went on a nighthunt. Maybe, if they hadn’t died, Jiang Ying would already have a baby sister.

Or maybe he’d only have Jiang Yanli and still love her most.

Age 10

For his tenth birthday, Jiang Ying gets a courtesy name and a baby brother.

Well, not exactly. He gets a courtesy name first and five days later he gets a baby brother, but he guesses it’s about the same thing.

Madam Yu doesn’t protest against him holding a-Cheng, but he supposes that is because his father has been giving him a-Li to hold for three years now. At seven, Jiang Wuxian hadn’t understood why Madam Yu, at best, settles on ignoring him. At ten, holding his brother, he does.

“Is a-Cheng going to be sect heir now?” Jiang Wuxian asks his father.

His siblings are with their nanny, a strict woman hired by Madam Yu, who sends Jiang Wuxian on many errands to keep him away from the two youngest. He wouldn’t mind so much if Madam Yu at least wouldn’t train him until he collapses every day and his time with his siblings is his only break.

Jiang Fengmian frowns. “You are my son, a-Ying.”

“But not by blood,” Jiang Wuxian replies.

He’s not mad about it. Jiang Fengmian could have let him remain an orphaned disciple or taken him in as a ward. There was no need to adopt him, but his father had done so regardless. And for those two years, their family had only been them and those odd dozen elder cousins doting on him. Life had been very kind.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Jiang Wuxian says. “A-Cheng will be a good sect leader.”

Right now, all a-Cheng is really good at is throwing up, but he never hits Jiang Wuxian’s clarity bell, so he’s already very filial.

“I have no doubt he would be,” Jiang Fengmian replies. It’s not a real answer, not that Jiang Wuxian knows that at the time. He sits down on his father’s desk instead and asks questions about nighthunts. He’s too young to go, but it won’t be for much longer.

Age 15

He’s the only boy of his standing at the Lan’s lectures and it shows by how utterly bored Jiang Wuxian is at the end of the first week. He’s not been announced sect heir, but the title also hasn’t been given to his brother, although both are getting the same education.

Well, a-Cheng is learning how to write and Jiang Wuxian is examining old treaties and driving his teachers insane, asking questions that have very little to do with the curriculum and are probably more specialized than they expected to deal with.

He’d hoped to talk to Lan Qiren. The man apparently knew his parents and is one of his generation’s best scholars. He’s also absent, caring for his nephews.

Jiang Wuxian doesn’t find him when he goes exploring the Cloud Recesses, but he does find a boy about a-Cheng’s age, looking like he might start crying any second.

It takes Jiang Wuxian approximately less than a second to kneel down in front of the kid and distract him with the glowing bunny talisman he makes for his siblings.

Lan Qiren will never quite forgive him for this.

Age 23

“Ying-ge, Ying-ge!”

Jiang Wuxian pauses halfway through the house as his little brother barrels into him. “Ying-ge, you’re back!”

“I am,” he replies and, as though his back isn’t killing him at the moment, he picks Jiang Cheng up. “How has my didi been?”

“Put me down!” Jiang Cheng shrieks. “You can’t pick me up. I went on my first nighthunt, I’m not a baby anymore!”

He’s all huffy, but Jiang Wuxian knows his brother’s hurt when he sees it. Ah, his first nighthunt already. He’d promised that he would be there and lead him on it. Jiang Cheng probably threw a tantrum about it, and knowing Madam Yu, she reacted just as harshly.

“You will have to tell me everything once I’m done talking with father,” Jiang Wuxian says and puts his brother down.

“But—”

“A-Cheng, please.”

“It’s Wanyin,” his brother insists, but still comes back for a hug before rushing off. For all that spots are turning Jiang Cheng into a teenage monster, he is still adorably clingy.

On his way to Jiang Fengmian’s office, he passes a few servants, greets them all by name, before facing his father.

“A-Ying,” Jiang Fengmian greets him all the same after all these years. “How have you been?”

“Well!” Jiang Wuxian replies and waits until his father dismisses the disciple in the office and activates a silencing talisman.

“So?” Jiang Fengmian prompts.

Jiang Wuxian instantly drops his cheerful demeanor. “Sect Leader Wen definitely killed Sect Leader Nie. Nie-xiong definitely knows as well. We talked for a bit, and while he’d definitely out for blood, I think he’s also right to believe Wen Ruohan won’t stop now that he’s gotten away with that.”

“What do you think we should do?”

Jiang Wuxian hesitates, then he slowly launches into his elaboration. He’s taken to wandering in the past years, not just to spread the reputation of his sect or take on dangerous nighthunts, but also because he likes discovering new places, sitting in a bar dressed like anything but a sect leader’s son and listening to foreign gossip.

Turns out he’s quite good at talking to people.

Age 26

Surrounded by disciples and heirs much younger than him, Jiang Wuxian feels truly old for the first time. He wonders if Nie-xiong feels the same, already serving as sect leader, or if the experience is unique to Jiang Wuxian alone.

He’s been seeing signs of war for years, but he hadn’t expected the Wen to be this daring.

“We’ll figure something out,” he tells his brother. “It’ll be alright.”

It tastes like a lie.

Age 27

Jiang Wanyin is all grown up and Jiang Wuxian wasn’t there to see it.

“What do you mean I will be sect leader?” Jiang Cheng hisses. “I can’t be sect leader!”

“Why not? You were trained to be, found all our disciples after the attack, and organized every move for the last three months.”

“Because you were gone!” Jiang Cheng shouts, his voice breaking at the last word. “You weren’t there. I thought—you were supposed to—”

Like a thousand times before, Jiang Wuxian opens his arms and lets his brother cry in them. The bride ghost lingering in the corner tells him not to scare as their sister enters the tent and starts crying the moment she sees them. They pull her close too and Jiang Wuxian apologizes until his throat is dry and whispers a hundred more reassurances.

“But why?” Jiang Cheng asks again once he no longer hiccups. “Is it what happened to you? Your golden core— You said you were rescued by a masked man.”

Jiang Wuxian’s smile falters. “Yes, about that…”

Age 29

Lan Wangji is the only person outside the clan who knows Jiang Wuxian is not the coreless administrator he’s pretending to be.

Well, it’s not so much pretending as that Jiang Wuxian is coreless and has been shuffled into a primarily administrative position, but he’s also trying very hard to get his new Burial Mounds granted fucked up cultivation under control. It’s enough to use as a weapon of war hiding beneath a mask, but it is not very lowkey.

Lan Wangji hadn’t even been supposed to find out, but after that one terrible week stuck in a cave together and witnessing Jiang Wuxian fucking around with a sword full of resentment, he’s a bit attuned to the sensation.

They have to make him marry in, somehow. Having Lan Wangji, a Lan who notoriously doesn’t lie, know about the Jiang’s little scheme is far from ideal.

But that is not Jiang Wuxian’s quest right now. “Lan Wangji,” he says instead. “Does your brother have any particular demands?”

Lan Wangji blinks at him.

“Spoils of war,” Jiang Wuxian elaborates. “Anything your clan wants? Land, people, money?”

“I believe anything of monetary value might be a priority,” Lan Wangji says slowly. “Cloud Recesses is still in need of rebuilding.”

“Great,” Jiang Wuxian says quickly before cringing at his wording. He is, perhaps, running on too little sleep. The job had seemed much easier when he’d been younger, with a core, not actually in charge of their spy network. “I mean, not great. Listen, do you think you can convince your brother to support the Jiang’s claim on the Dafan Wen? It’s for reparations. We’re lacking the manpower to actually rebuild Lotus Pier, not just the money.”

It isn’t a lie, but it’s also not the entire truth. The Dafan Wen weren’t truly participants in the war, and even if, Jiang Wuxian couldn’t care less now. Wen Ning returned his parents’ bodies to them and hid them when they were fugitives.

And Wen Qing is the best healer in the entire country and the only other person who, if she doesn’t know already, is capable of guessing who is hiding behind the Yiling Patriarch’s mask. She’s a dangerous loose end if that knowledge gets out and Jiang Wuxian has put too much effort into it to have it fall apart because she thinks the information might buy her safety the Jiang will offer anyway.

Maybe they could marry her in as well? A whole damn branch sect of healers. It would fill Yunmeng Jiang’s coffers so quickly and give them the boost they desperately need.

“I don’t think brother will argue against it,” Lan Wangji replies.

“That’s great, thank you. I’ll see you at the banquet!”

Age 30

Jiang Wuxian kneels in their shrine, little a-Yuan on his lap.

“Father, Madam Yu, I think we have done well. A-Li is negotiating her betrothal, and a-Cheng is leading the sect even better than I thought he would and you know I’ve always thought he’d make a great sect leader.”

“Xian-gege sad?”

Jiang Wuxian looks down and a-Yuan is quick to wipe his hands over his cheeks. “Ah, was I crying? I’m sorry, a-Yuan. I won’t cry again.”

#mdzs #the untamed #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #jiang fengmian #jiang yanli #fanfic #mdzs fanfic

[aebi12]

"Resentment" - Chapter 1

Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

***

The word gets caught in his throat.

For an instant, Aemond seems unable to make a sound, unable to give the command and carry out the punishment.

But only for an instant.

When his gaze refocuses on those haunting green eyes that once spelled his world, the weight of her crime echoes in his mind.

And then he finds his voice.

 “Dracarys”

Screams. Screams are soon heard as Vhagar opens her jaws and unleashes flames from it.

But there hadn't been any screaming that afternoon, had there?

No. She hadn't screamed…why then…?

"Wake up, prince Aemond."

Small hands tentatively touch his shoulder, moving him gently and waking him, allowing his recollections to return to that hidden part of his memory as consciousness once again bathes his mind.

His bedroom. He is in his bedroom, not in Harrenhal.

Aemond grunts and fixes his good eye on the maid who, candle in hand, has awakened him. The poor girl backs up a couple of steps, startled, noticing the disgust in the expression of her master.

"What is happening?" he asks when the voice of a woman crying in pain reaches his ears

“It's the queen, my prince. She has begun with her labors."

Already? It is what he wonders internally, although he does not verbalize his doubt.

"My family?"

"Gathered in your mother's chambers"

Aemond nods and pulls back the sheets that cover him, sitting up on the bed and reaching for the leather patch he keeps on the nightstand.

"Go away, I can manage myself"

The young woman makes a quick curtsy before leaving the room.

Aemond sighs and drains the glass of water that is always by his bedside before washing and dressing.

When he is ready he emerges from his rooms in the Tower of the Hand, and strides down the dimly torchlit corridors, his sister-in-law's screams growing louder and louder as he approaches the royal family quarters.

It's going to be a long night, he thinks as he nods to Ser Arryk and enters his mother's chambers.

"Mother?" calls softly

"She is with Ellyn"

Aemond finds his younger brother sitting by the fire.

"What are you doing here alone?"

“I was not alone until a while ago,” Daeron replies, “Mother and I were praying, but the maesters came looking for her.”

The prince restrains himself from rolling his eye and concentrates on the last part of the information that his brother has given him, "I imagine the prognosis is not good"

Daeron shakes his head and drinks from the wineglass he is holding, “There were almost three moons to go before the baby came. The maesters do not believe that the babe will survive”

Aemond nods, though he isn't sure if his brother sees him. He had already imagined something like this when the maid had informed him that the queen was in labor.

“I really thought this time would be different”

The young prince's voice sounds pained, his gaze meeting Aemond's, who can tell how affected he looks. Sometimes when he gazes into Daeron's youthful face, he can still see the five-year-old version of him clinging to his mother's skirts in an attempt to prevent him from being taken to Oldtown.

"Our sister-in-law is still very young, they can try again." Words are more of an empty courtesy, a vain attempt to cover up reality. This was the fourth time Ellyn had become pregnant, the only time she had managed to keep the baby inside her long enough for her swollen belly to be displayed at court. "Where is Aegon?"

"He drank milk of the poppy before going to bed," Daeron pours himself another glass of wine and hurries it, "They tried to wake him, but he's fast asleep."

"Maybe it's better that way"

"Maybe"

“Stop drinking so much or you'll end up like our brother,” Aemond says, exasperated, as his younger brother pours himself another glass of wine.

Daeron gives him an embarrassed smirk and sets his glass aside, sighing as he returns to his place by the fire. Aemond sits in the front chair and a comfortable silence settles between the two princes, which is broken more than an hour later, when their mother returns.

"Mother!" Daeron immediately stands up and goes to Alicent, "What happened?"

Aemond turns to face his mother, examining her somber expression, the dark circles under her eyes, and how pale she looks.

"It was a boy. He had hair as dark as the Baratheons” The woman hugs Daeron and lets her son, who is already quite a bit taller than her, comfort her by running his hand on her back.

"How is Ellyn?"

"She is going to be fine, but she needs to rest," Alicent pulls away from her son's chest and cradles his face in her hands, "You should rest too, darling, it's still a while until morning."

“I want to be here, with you both,” Daeron replies, and Alicent tilts her face to her eldest son, as if realizing for the first time that he is there, too, “Surely there will be a council meeting to…”

“Mother is right, you better go back to sleep,” Aemond cuts him off, getting to his feet, “There is nothing we can do for now. The arrangements for the funeral and everything else will have to wait until morning."

Alicent nods and kisses a defeated Daeron on the forehead, who leaves without protest.

"Do you want me to stay? We could…we could pray, perhaps,” Aemond proposes as the door closes behind his brother.

Alicent glances at him briefly before smirking and shaking her head, “Maybe in the morning, Aemond. I would like to rest, you should do the same”

Her voice is not without affection, but the prince can't help but get the impression that his mother already wants to send him out of her room. The thought fills him with an unpleasant feeling in his stomach. "Of course, I'll see you in the morning"

However, upon returning to his quarters, it becomes clear that he won't be able to sleep, so he begins reading the many scrolls that require his attention until the sun begins to make its way into the sky, which is when he heads towards the training yard.

“I thought I wouldn't see you today,” Ser Criston greets as he removes his white cloak and chooses his usual morning star.

“You know me, Ser Criston, I never skip training,” he replies, taking his sword and moving into attack position in front of the knight.

Cole smirks and the fight begins. Despite years of arduous preparation, it is not easy for him to defeat the Lord Commander, but when he succeeds, an arrogant smile spreads across his lips.

“Well done, my prince,” Ser Criston congratulates him, and he seems to hesitate before adding, “I heard about the queen and the baby.”

Aemond nods. It wouldn't be long before everyone in the palace and the kingdom found out about his family's new failure.

"It was the will of the gods, we can only accept it," continues the knight. Aemond looks down to avoid making a face that betrays what he thinks about the gods and their designs, aware of how religious his old weapons master is, and not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable, “Does the king know?”

"No, I don’t think so."

Ser Criston leaves his morning star on the table with the other weapons, "I'll go see him after I freshen up, do you want me to talk to him?"

Aemond understands what Cole is offering, to take away the burden of having to break the news to Aegon, and is internally grateful for his proposal, though his face remains impassive and he simply nods, "Surely my mother will be there too.”

"Try to get some rest before the council meeting," says the knight, patting him on the shoulder, "The kingdom and your family will need you now more than ever."

Ser Criston bows before leaving the courtyard, his words following Aemond as he gets ready to meet the members of the Small Council.

"The king?" he asks as a servant helps him with the chair

"He is in no condition to attend this meeting," Alicent replies, her hands clasped in her lap, her voice thick with sadness.

Aemond just nods. Aegon might have many faults, but it couldn't be said that he didn't feel the loss of his children. His brother had mourned, in his own way, the death of his heirs with Helaena and those that Ellyn had not been able to keep in her womb.

"What about the queen?" Daeron asks

“In bed, too weak to get up. She lost a great deal of blood, and she was very close to sharing the same fate as the little prince,” Grand Master Orwyle replies and seeks the dowager queen's gaze. Aemond notices that his mother nods to him and the old man continues speaking, "Her grace may not be able to conceive again."

There is a moment of awkward silence among the members of the council, although the prince notes from their expressions that no one is really taken by surprise by the maester's diagnosis.

"Surely you can't say that for sure," Daeron says, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, "Ellyn is very young, she is strong, she will heal."

Orwyle smiles condescendingly at him, “Another pregnancy would kill her, my prince. It would not be advisable for the queen to conceive again."

Aemond tilts his face and purses his lips, his fingers drumming the corner of the table.

“I dare say that I speak for all the members of the council,” says Tyland Lannister, “When I say that we need to find a solution to the problem of the heirs”

Or to the lack of them, Aemond thinks, “What do you have in mind, lord Lannister, considering that my sister-in-law will not be able to bear my brother a child?”

"We could, perhaps, ask the Faith for an annulment of the marriage," the man looks at Alicent, tentatively.

"On what basis? The marriage was consummated."

“Her inability to give heirs to the king”

Daeron snorts, and Aemond looks at him, half exasperated and half amused. What the hell is his little brother doing here? Alicent takes Daeron's hand and squeezes his fingers, tacitly asking him to control his reactions. Their closeness stirs something inside the prince, who looks away, annoyed.

"We can hardly blame the queen for that," Alicent replies, "The gods blessed their union, we cannot simply break it, it would be improper."

“Not to mention that Borros Baratheon would not take such an insult lightly,” adds Aemond.

His mother nods and sighs, turning to him, "We'll have to resort to other alternatives."

Their gazes meet for long seconds, and Aemond is perfectly capable of reading what's in them.

Duty and sacrifice.

His mother's favorite words and those that have dictated her actions throughout her life. The words Aemond had followed since he was a boy… until the start of the war.

Now, he realizes, his mother appeals to them once more as she watches him, nervously fidgeting with the rings on her fingers.

"Who?" ask finally

"Rhaena Targaryen"

“No,” he says flatly.

Not her, he thinks as he lowers his head and can swear a pang of pain runs down the scarred side of his face. Any other but her. Not the girl for whose stupid accusations he had been scarred for life and accused of stealing a dragon.

Alicent sighs, "Lady Rhaena is best suited to be the mother of the future heirs."

“An alliance with any other noble house in the realm would be wiser,” he retorts.

His mother seems to look to the council members for support. Aemond wonders if they had been secretly planning this for a while. Most likely it was.

“Your cousin Rhaena is the best choice, prince Aemond,” Lannister tries to reason, “Her friendship to lady Arryn is well known, which would ensure an alliance with the Vale. You are well aware that Lady Jeyne was in favor of princess Rhaenyra and that…”

“I know all that, lord Lannister,” Aemond cuts him off. He doesn't need the man to remind him who their allies were and who were not during the war, “Even so, I don't think we should assume the Vale will resume good relations with the crown just because I marry my cousin. Why would they? She is just a guest there, a noble lady with nothing really to offer, no titles, no land…”

“Her blood is important,” his mother cuts him off, “Her blood would give more legitimacy to your children”

"Legitimacy?" he asks incredulously, astounded by the dowager queen's choice of word.

"Yes, legitimacy," Alicent seems reluctant to speak, tilting her face, but finally faces him, "Half the kingdom still calls your brother usurper, if a new war hasn't started it's because they don't have a male heir to place on the throne," a look of sadness appears on her features, "Lady Rhaena is the daughter of Daemon Targaryen. Like it or not, the prince was respected by many noble houses. Having his blood on the throne would appease the lords who only bend the knee in fear of your dragons."

Aemond makes an annoyed noise. He can't argue with his mother's arguments, because he knows they are true. It was fear, not loyalty, that kept his brother on the throne.

“Your mother is right,” the maester chimed in, “It is better for lady Rhaena to marry you than another high lord. If she or her sister had a male heir, the conspiracies would start again and King Aegon's throne would be threatened."

“We should have chosen her as Aegon's wife from the start,” Alicent sighs, “We should have convinced the king that she was the best choice. Maybe I would have my grandson by now if so”

Ser Criston, who has remained silent up to this point, cautiously approaches the prince, "Your family needs you, my prince," he says, repeating his words from earlier, "You must secure the future of the dynasty."

Aemond grimaces, "Baela would be a better choice," he proposes. If he's going to marry one of her cousins, it had better not be her.

“No,” his mother replies, alarmed, “Lady Baela's behavior is questionable. Reports say that she lost her virtue long ago and that she misses no opportunity to give herself to stable boys and servants. I will not have the lords of the kingdom question the paternity of my future grandchildren."

No. That wasn't their style, Aemond thinks with a cynical smile.

“Not counting her unfortunate temperament, let's remember that she tried to kill the king. In addition, her wounds could play against her at the time of delivery," says the maester

Lannister nods, “Rhaena is a gentle lady, and her demeanor has been faultless. She will be a good wife."

Aemond balls his hands into fists, "Hardly, lord Lannister, considering that she will be marrying the man who murdered her father."

“And her betrothed,” Daeron comments, earning a reproachful look from his mother, to which he just shrugs, “I'm just saying that, like Aemond, I think there's a lot of history between the two of them. It probably won't be a happy union."

Aemond is tempted to make a sarcastic comment at his brother's naïveté, but his mother's words stop him.

“It doesn't need to be. They just have to fulfill their roles and produce a royal heir. They can keep their daily activities separate”

Her voice denotes a shadow of sadness and bitterness, her gaze distant before resting on his eldest son's.

And there it is again.

Reproach.

There is so much reproach in her gaze. There isn't a day that he hasn't noticed the reproach in her eyes since he returned from his somewhat failed mission in Storm's End. Since his actions in the war had created an abyss between them, since his slip in Harrenhal had finished burying the unconditional affection that his mother had once harbored for him.

Affection that seems to have been transferred to his younger brother, the war hero, the Daring, the courageous young prince. Affection that he tries to recover every day, without success.

"Is this what you want?" he asks quietly leaning towards his mother

“This is what we need,” Alicent nods, “And what your reputation needs, too.”

Alicent's hand covers his and, it's been so long since she's willingly sought his contact, that he lets go of the momentary pain and embarrassment he feels at his mother's words.

If marrying Rhaena Targaryen is what he needs to cleanse his wrongs in Alicent's eyes, then it is what he will do.

“Fine,” he replies, “Make the necessary arrangements. I will marry my cousin as soon as you see fit."

__________________________________________________________

Masterlist

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #prince aemond #ao3fic #aemond kinslayer #rhaena targaryen #rivals to lovers #forced marriage

[kallikrein]

IN GOOD GRACES

— in which bonten!takeomi has some frustrations to let out.

genre. smut, fluff towards the end. MDNI.

contains. fem!reader, portrayed as wakasa’s younger sister, timeskip characters, explicit content, profanities, probably ooc, and bad writing as per usual.

word count. 4.3k lmfao.

note. i kinda imagined reader would be similar with waka in terms of appearance, if anyone’s concerned about that hehe. i didn't know how to end this, so lmk your thoughts!

requested.

He was damned.

Takeomi knew he was ever since he got into this notorious lifestyle. It’s the kind of life where one wrong move could lead to his blood dripping to the floor, or maybe from going southwards to his very much eager… appendage.

His jaw clenched. Once he narrowed his eyes, he sent a handful of death daggers to the person standing in front of him he could only label as the fucking bane of his existence.

“Akashi-san, I’m not a child,” you hissed.

He scoffed. Was it Akashi-san now and not Take-nii?

Right. Now that he had a chance to look at you — really look at you, his eyes fell down to your white blouse that seemed delicate enough to appear professional, yet to him it’s flimsy enough he could see the dainty lace embroidering your bra. 

His gaze traveled lower to the black skirt that hugged your hips, and his mind immediately betrayed him. Those waist and thighs, hidden by a fabric he’s certain would feel immaculate underneath his palms, were a vise he would gladly have his neck choked with.

It reached just above your knees. Your calves that were sinfully exposed and weren’t hindered by some branded stockings had looked so smooth, and Takeomi wondered if you shaved them or if it was naturally that way. He silently cursed and averted his gaze, and they somehow settled on your high-end brand-covered feet.

You had worn black and pointy stilettos today. Deadly as those things were, and painfully sexy. They suited you and your annoying, looking-for-a-death-wish thing you’ve got going on at that moment.

“I didn’t say you are one,” he gruffed, voice strained. “I said you shouldn’t wander in these halls like you aren’t worried about these men looking at you like you’re a piece of meat.”

“And you aren’t looking at me like one right now?”

His glare shot up to your face, his jaw ticked from being caught ogling. You looked so much like your brother — lazy eyelids and thin lips, but at the same time, different. There was more emotion in your face than Wakasa’s usual laidback one: more fire, more grit, more taunting.

And Takeomi swore, if you open that mouth of yours again, those lips which were coated with a light sheen of gloss, he wouldn’t hesitate to lock you up in this room until it’s time for you to go home.

“I don’t look at you that way,” he argued. But who was he fooling? As he had pointed out, you were the fucking bane of his existence. The ghost of his wet dreams as though he was a premature teen who hasn't tasted a woman’s pleasure yet. 

He knew he wasn’t supposed to look nor think of you like he did, and yet, he fucking did. 

Goddamn.

“How long are you gonna treat me like this?” You almost hurled a stapler at him when he didn’t answer. Perhaps immerse yourself all the more with his you’re-still-a-kid-in-my-eyes perspective. “I’m a 30-year old woman, for fuck’s sake! I can do whatever I want!”

“Not when you’re wearing those clothes.”

The appalment on your face could have shook him off from his stance. To be fair, there was nothing wrong with your clothes. It seemed prim and proper and respectable enough. It’s just his brain was thinking of many dishonorable things with it.

He didn’t know you would come to the Bonten headquarters today. He had his schedule planned out, meeting after meeting — your usual routine for a crime syndicate advisor. He was walking to the elevator to his office peacefully as one could imagine in a hotel full of rageful bastards when he saw a bunch of men snickering nearby the metal doors and heard your name slip up from one of their disgusting lips.

“Would absolutely fuck her until she’s raw and begging for mercy,” they snickered. It didn’t sit well in his gut. It immediately fired up a possessiveness he didn’t know he had, but he blamed it for the reason that you’re his close friend’s younger sister which was why he felt the urge to protect you.

But now that you’re standing in front of him, looking like the wild and passionate sex yourself they made obscene statements with, maybe what you really needed was to be protected from him.

Hell, he had to get out of here. Away from you.

“I’m gonna take you home and you’re gonna change out of those clothes,” he demanded. He stepped towards the door, not waiting at all for your sure as hell snarky response, “And you’re gonna stay at home until I tell you to.”

You crossed your arms at him. “No.” 

“Yes.”

“No.”

“And you’re really telling me you’re not a kid?”

“I’m not,” you ground out, face twisting into irritation. 

Takeomi paused by the doorway, hand clasping the knob before giving your tense form a well-heated look. Your breath hitched. “Then be a good girl instead and follow my orders.”

You found out moments later, much to your disdain, that he drove his car like the perfect gentleman. One hand on the wheel and the other under his chin. The song in his speakers played a slow beat, the singer’s voice raspy and suggestive — it’s stimulating. 

Maybe it was because this was the first time he drove you to your house. Usually, it would be his driver or any one of his men taking you home. And even if you did sit in a single car, it wouldn’t be the two of you alone. There would always be someone accompanying you two.

God, you couldn’t think straight at all. The words ‘good girl’ and the way he had said it made you immediately compliant. And the scent — his scent — was everywhere. From the very lush, constricting space of his car to the man himself sitting beside you. It was deep. Manly. Musky. As if somebody had sex prior.

The abrupt thought grated your nerves.

Once you entered the garage of your luxurious apartment, you breathed a tired sigh that may as well be ten years worth of exhaustion. “You could’ve just dropped me upfront,” you grumbled.

“I could,” was all he replied. He parked on a VIP spot — a spot named after him making you wonder why he did such a thing, and turned off the car. He unlocked the doors and got up from his seat. 

You already knew what he’s going to do.

Cursing him underneath your breath, you opened your car door and followed him to the elevator. You put your floor number as he waited patiently behind you, and you could feel his stare burning holes at the back of your head. 

You fought the urge to shiver from its intensity.

Entering the empty cabin once it arrived, he stepped in, pressing the door button to close. Once more, you were crowded by his deliciously suffocating aura, and you nervously shifted your heels.

He tensed.

Your mouth parted.

You swallowed, as if the air was thick with unsaid tension. The simple knowledge he’s on edge around you sizzled under your skin, gripping your chest with force making you breathless.

The whole way up to your floor, he was silent. If it was all the more possible, he became more brooding, more ominous — which didn’t help the nerves you have to instinctively attune to him when he’s around.

You reached your apartment door, entered the passcode and wrenched it open. If you thought he would go away now to leave you alone like a kid being sent to a corner, you were wrong. He entered the room as if he owned it, and gracious heavens, he had fitted so perfectly at a standstill in your doorway. 

Like a husband arriving home to his sweet wife.

“What?” You managed to croak out.

“What the fuck is that?”

“What the fuck is what?”

He brisk-walked from your doorway to the adjacent living room, and lifted what appeared to be a men’s shirt from the armrest of the couch.

Uh-oh.

“Whose is this?”

You fixed him a look. “No one you should care about.”

Takeomi’s face hardened. He bit his lip from lashing out his anger, and your eyes followed the gesture. He sneered your name, irritation laced in its letters, “Whose the fuck is this?”

But you only raised your brow, crossed your arms, and leaned onto one sexy hip. I don’t need to tell you.

“You can leave now, Akashi-san,” you ordered instead.

Well, fuck. Aren’t you the most frustrating woman he had ever encountered?

He stormed across the room and stood in front of you, clutching the dirty rag that was the stranger’s shirt in his hand. “Does your brother know about this?” He fumed.

You held his angry eyes with your unbothered ones, “Onii-san knows.”

Fucking hell.

“Don’t invite him again,” he growled.

“Who? Wakasa-nii-san?” You asked. Takeomi’s short patience was wearing thin. Which was why he threw the filthy material to the floor and gripped your shoulders with his large hands before he could even stop himself. 

“This boy you’re fucking,” he spat out. Your slender shoulders felt so soft, he couldn’t willingly pull away. Like a magnet, he was drawn to you. So he moved closer. “You are done with him.”

You stood, proud; challenging him with a look that called out to his primal instincts. He could feel a stirring in his pants, that was very much instinctual. Oh, how he wanted to debauch those rousing glare.

His hold on you tightened.

“Or what?” You haughtily asked. “I need to be pleased like you men need to be pleased.”

You really were testing him.

Takeomi’s angry expression became a smolder, and he pushed you towards a wall, his chest laying flat on your torso. Its warmth and massiveness felt so delicious you couldn’t form a coherent thought.

“And did he please you?” He drawled. His face hovered over yours, breath fanning your rapidly warming cheeks. The rush of desire brought by his closeness was immediate. You shivered. “Answer me.”

You opened your mouth to say something when you felt his leg slowly pushing itself in between your thighs. It robbed you of your speech, the bitchy sentiment you ought to respond died on the tip of your tongue as the organ inside your ribcage skipped a beat.

His knowing eyes glimmered, and you helplessly fought for your snarkiness to come back. Your arms hung limply by your sides, and your neck somehow arched in order to reach his lips. 

Your breaths were mingled, becoming one. They tangled in the very air you take, and you swore, you could moan just by it alone.

His soft lips glided over yours when you squirmed from the thick anticipation, and you gasped. You couldn’t help it, not when his eyes had looked darker with more thirst than ever. He let out a shaky breath and pressed his body closer and harsher to you.

“You’re a fucking menace,” he ground out before his mouth took yours in a wet, sloppy kiss. Groaning from the back of his throat, he let go of your shoulders to trail them to your wrists to pull them up above your head, and you moaned in an instant — albeit helplessly. 

His thigh that was steadily fixated between your legs started to move, rubbing your core so delectably your back arched. Your breasts swelled and heaved, and you knew he could feel the tingling sensation flooding through them only he could satisfy.

One of his hands removed their grip on your wrists, holding them with one large palm as the other roughly felt your tit, focusing his fingers where your pert nipple should be.

“Akashi-san,” you cried out. He continued his torture with his lips on your ear, on your jaw down to your neck — all messy kisses, nips and bites, and you felt powerful from the laborous breathing he casually let out. You wiggled out of his hold which froze Takeomi in his place, although you were quick to say, “Clothes. Too expensive.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he rasped before he’s on you again. He undid the back zipper of your flimsy blouse with his free hand. The heat of his palm seared you as he spanned your back, making you tremble and you keened his name once more. 

He fisted the obstructive fabric, yanked it down and now you’re left with a piece of your lingerie as your blouse fell softly to the floor. “You wear this to work?” He observed the racy underwear you had worn that day to which you breathlessly nodded. “Every day?”

You whispered on his lips, “It makes me feel sexy.”

With renewed vigor, he invaded your mouth again you were absolutely sure they’d bruise. You couldn’t — wouldn’t complain, though. You’ve been waiting to be kissed by this man for years. From the time you’ve become a legal adult to the time you’ve worked under the same organization as him — it was everything you wanted, and all the more needed.

And now that you have, you wouldn’t waste a single moment not to.

You couldn’t exactly remember what happened. All you had noticed was the sudden softness on your back. His masculine weight pushed you down to the mattress. His coat and button shirt had come off, and now you’re skin to skin with your nipple getting sucked so rakishly into his mouth.

He rolled, tweaked and lavished one with his tongue as his long fingers did the same to the other. His heated gaze was on you, and you had the audacity to feel embarrassed. 

My god, he looked as if he was a man starved.

Takeomi’s mouth trailed across your feverish skin, uncouthly passing by your stomach and navel while he rolled your skirt downwards off your legs. He licked his lips once he saw the thin material hiding your womanhood, and before you could slip your heels off your feet, he abruptly grabbed your ankle. “Keep them on,” he demanded as he left an open kiss to your lower leg, tasting your skin with his tongue.

“I didn’t peg you for someone who fucks a woman still with their shoes on,” you breathed, teasing him. But that was only because he’s dragging you to the edge of the bed, the flat portion of your heels sat on his shoulders while he parted your legs and his handsome, scarred face awaiting in between.

What a sensual sight.

Your pussy tingled with excitement. It throbbed and pulsed as if your heartbeat was now between your legs and not in your chest. God, this man was about to bury his face in the place where you need him the most. “Please,” you found yourself begging.

He didn’t answer, however. Instead, he eagerly swooped in, mouth latching onto your engorged clit as his tongue flicked it every now and then. He moved his jaw as if you’re the one telling him to do it, but his eyes — those eyes that were now a molten pool of heavy desire — locked in on yours, and you knew he had his mind in ruining you for another man.

As if he didn’t already when you first saw him.

He ate you out, endlessly. Using his fingers when his tongue felt strained, but it wasn’t enough for him to stop giving you pleasure. Even when you begged him to do so because something felt like coming out, he didn’t. He kept going at it, on and on, and you came and came until you’re arching your back and crying afterwards, your own sweat sticking to your skin, you thought how he’s such an absolute meanie in bed.

“Oh my god,” you panted. “You’re a jackass.”

“I would rather accept thank you, but you’re welcome,” he devilishly grinned. 

His erection was still the same — hard and huge. You haven’t even touched him yet, and here you were, accusing him of being a jackass. Surely, you could return him the favor?

You grabbed him by his nape, pulling him up to your face to kiss him, tasting your own self on his mouth. The tanginess of your own essence in between your lips was something you knew you could get addicted to. It was that salaciously sweet and liberating.

You kissed him until you didn’t know how to breathe oxygen but him. Your fingers fumbled for his belt, and the sound of it unbuckling made you whimper a ‘Hurry’ as he struggled to get naked himself.

You pulled away out of a sudden which confused him, before inelegantly tugging his arm pushing him to his back to your pillows.

He flopped down, mouth parted and eyes hooded. 

“My turn,” you greedily said. You straddled him, using his wide shoulders as your leverage. One of your hands held his cock right by the opening of your pussy, slobbering his tip with your wetness as you teased him by moving your hips back and forth, not totally taking him all the way in.

He smacked your ass, “Don’t play with it.”

You chuckled, gaze leering. “Oh, I’m not gonna play with it.” You held his stare as you slowly sunk down on him, too hung up on the need to feel him to ask if he even wanted a condom. Your eyelids fluttered as the pain and pleasure shot right in your womb from feeling so full — full of him that you jerked on instinct, inciting a gasp and groan from your throats.

“Move,” he grunted. “Fucking move, or I swear I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk.”

The thought made your pussy clench.

And Takeomi felt it around his dick.

He breathed to pace himself, scared that he might hurt you from the intensity of his lechery. Although, the look in your eyes was clear as if you’re deeply asking for it. 

Try me.

His eyes narrowed, and you smiled. Throwing your hair to the side, you moved — slow and painstakingly agonizing, as your hips leisurely rolled on his pelvis. He threw his head back.

Your walls were snug, so warm and tight, and Takeomi thought he must have done something good in his previous life to have a splendid pussy riding him so ardently.

“Faster,” he grunted after letting you have your fun. He caressed your lower back, tenderly, before giving your body a forceful push that clearly said what and how he wanted it. “Go wild,” he moaned.

His moan was enough for you to lose your composure, but when he said those words exactly the way he did, your pussy yearned to obey him. You settled your palms on the milky skin of his shoulders as you rode him for all that you have, for all that you would be, throwing the smallest reservations you still had to the wind.

He wrapped his strong arms around you, and you fell forward with your tits bouncing heavily up and down his face. He kissed the valley between them as he met your lewd pace worthy of his own. “Fuck,” he cursed.

Your arms snaked around his head, nails scraping his scalp as a muffled groan could be heard from where he’s burying himself in your chest. You could care less if you were all sweaty from his earlier attacks, you would make sure he got imprinted under your skin no one else could really come close with.

“Akashi-san,” you cried out. “Akashi-san…”

You said his name over and over, similar to the way he panted your name, as if doing so would hold the two of you back from saying something that shouldn’t be spoken out loud. It brought the emotion you’ve been hiding away for years from him to slowly come to the surface.

It was apparent in your eyes, you knew. When he flipped you to your back and drove his cock so deep it earned him a grateful whimper, yet the tender way you had grasped his face with your hands and kissed him so softly, you knew that it was there in your eyes.

He stuttered your name. The jerky motion of his hips paused for a moment before getting rougher. He kissed you then, languidly on the lips then delicately with his tongue, reaching all the places that he could all the while branding you as his with his harsh hips.

The contrasting sensations he was unleashing over your body were consistently piling up to push you over that edge, you clawed at his chest, “Akashi-san…”

“Cum,” you heard him command, and just like a puppet being strung by her puppeteer, you obeyed. 

You came — hard and fast. Your legs quivered from the shock of having an intense orgasm, but he only kept pounding into you that you could feel again the build up of another one, “Ah, fuck…”

It was simultaneous. When you climaxed for the second time, his cock throbbed and swelled from how tighter you’ve gotten, and suddenly he’s pulling out his shaft to spurt thick white ropes of cum to your chest and stomach. 

He groaned.

The scene before him was enough to last him a lifetime of jack-off material.

Your skin was shining with sweat, chest heaving to catch your shaky breath. There were his strings of cum painted on your torso, and Takeomi swore, out of all the things he could list for this jack-off material of his, it was your face that got him suddenly aware of what he did.

He had fucked you.

“What?”

“I have somewhere else to be,” he coughed out. He stood up from his kneeling between your legs, and limply walked to his forgotten pieces of clothes.

“Oh, fuck you, Takeomi.”

The venom in your words was enough to halt him from his steps. You’ve never called him Takeomi before. It used to be Take-nii, and then Akashi-san. Never Takeomi.

Not even when he had his tongue wolfishly lapping up your juices.

Not even when he had his dick sheathed in by your heavenly pussy.

You sat completely naked in the center of your bed. Your bare, cum-covered tits were a free view for him to ogle and admire. But it was your lavender eyes that had him frozen in his place.

They looked so angry, so hurt. He could only swallow the large amount of guilt forming in his chest.

“You know, don’t you?” Your voice was cold, silent. Accusation seeping through. “You’ve always known.”

Takeomi turned his back around, but didn’t make a step forward to exit the room. He simply didn’t want to see you all vulnerable and exposed like you did with him with your body just then.

“I do.”

“Then why did you?” 

He knew you were pertaining to what had just happened. But, he was a coward. He never liked confrontations. So, he gruffed out instead, “Don’t go back to the office today.” 

Anger flared across your cheeks. “Why did you do it?”

“What do you want me to say?” He spun around. His expression darkened once more when he was gifted by your naked body, but was immediately shaken off by the blatant pain in your expression. “Your brother said you’re off-limits.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that.”

“What do you want from me?” He stood there in the middle of your room downright in his birthday suit. He never felt ashamed being naked in front of a beautiful woman before, but when it came to the matters of the heart — his heart, he couldn’t help but feel too exposed. “I can’t love you,” he added, hoping you would just push him away.

“You’re just telling yourself that,” you whispered. You turned away from him and eyed the drawn curtains of your window. Your meek actions rattled something inside his chest. “Well, aren’t you in a hurry?”

If he stepped even an inch outside your door, Takeomi felt he would really lose you then. He had always known how you feel about him all these years. They were usually followed by your brother’s listless stare on the side of his face whenever you would dare come close to him. So what if he moronically thought Wakasa didn’t approve? 

But now that he thought about it, how true was that, really? Did he ever hear Wakasa saying you couldn’t be taken by someone like him?

Was it all on his mind, then?

With a frustrated sigh, he sat back down on the bed near your bedside table to pull out some clean tissues. “Let me clean you up,” he grumbled.

“Don’t have to. Gonna take a shower after you leave,” you mumbled. Takeomi’s initial thought right then was how annoyingly confusing you and your brother were — how the two of you could drive him into madness with just your evasiveness. 

“Listen,” he started. “I don’t think Waka would approve of me touching you, uhh, inappropriately.”

“He already knows.”

“What do you mean he already knows?” Stupefied, he turned to you but you only shrugged.

“We made a bet.”

A bet? A fucking bet? “On what grounds?” He gritted out.

You rolled your eyes at him, amusement slowly lighting up your face. “On whether you would ask me out or fuck me first.”

What the actual hell. 

“He said you’re too much of a horndog to get into my pants first, so I think he won.”

He shook his head, not entirely surprised something like this would happen at all. The two of you have always been… remarkable. “You two are the craziest siblings,” he remarked.

You lifted one shoulder and beam at him. “We’re a tad bit shy if we’re compared to yours.”

“True,” he agreed, slowly crawling back to sit beside you, “but you love me for it.”

He was testing the waters, he knew.

And he wasn’t at all disappointed.

“I do,” you sighed, weary but honest. “Do you?”

Your brows were furrowed in concern, seeming so lost and hopeless, and he almost asked you to punch some long-awaited sense at him. 

“Unfortunately,” he murmured. With that, he kissed you on your lips before pulling away to ask, “How much did you bet Wakasa?”

“It’s a secret.”

taglist. @baji-san and @gwynsapphire.

#[ ⌨️ ] — writings #東京リベンジャーズ #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers imagine #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers akashi takeomi #akashi takeomi smut #akashi takeomi x reader

[evita-shelby]

National Anthem

Yes that Lana del Rey song lol.

Gif by @peakyblinded

Tagging: @thegreatdragonfruta @cljordan-imperium @zablife

Rated: M 🔞

Warnings: use of ethnic slur, slight racism, canon typical violence

It was Roosevelt’s idea and while Jack owed him a great deal for his success in business and now politics, he was not going to let Franklin choose him a wife.

He didn’t need some prissy princess with as much personality as a wet mop to take him the rest of the way up.

Barely worked with his brother, Laurence, who fucked off to France and left his bitch of a wife and his kid, Gina, in his care.

No, Jack will do this himself, chose a woman who doesn’t bore him and won’t nag him to death.

The Rileys of Mexico City were perfect.

Rich beyond imagination, had enough Irish and Spanish blood to make them more palatable to high society and had ties to the three worlds he lived in: business, crime and politics.

Better yet, they had an heiress ripe for the taking.

Eva Smith, daughter of Patricio’s dead youngest sister and worth almost a million dollars.

A total mystery, even her file had so little on her.

Christ, he isn’t even sure she speaks English.

But she is good to look at.

Her dark hair is pinned under the veil she wears to mass, her dark brown eyes made up like a vamp and red lips he’d love to see wrapped around his---

Jack Nelson cannot finish that thought when his future wife turns to look at him with a knowing look in her eyes.

“Forgive me Father for I am going to sin.” He mutters to himself as he follows her into the empty confessional booth.

The church was not empty, Jack had spent the past fifteen minutes watching the back of her head since he arrived here on a weekday on a place so holy he has never fucked a woman here.

He has thought of it, he is only human after all.

“I do speak English, if you had read the file you would have known my father was an Englishman.” She said through the lattice screen.

“He was an English gypsy. Got on a ship and arrived in Mexico as your mother’s husband.” He points out.

“Ah, so you did do your homework, good boy.” The woman points out with a teasing lilt.

“Your turn, sweetheart.” Jack says to keep it going and see what she knows about him.

“Your name is John Fitzgerald Nelson, you were the second son of four siblings, two of your younger siblings died of consumption, your elder brother died in France and your first kill was the priest who forced himself on your sisters.” She answers and he wished he could get a good view of the vixen who knows things that were definitely not on his files.

“Did I get that right, baby?”

No one knew why he killed the priest, save for him and God.

Even sweet twelve year old Gina hadn’t known he’d avenged her when she died in their mother’s arms.

He was expecting a fraud, or worse a madwoman.

He got something worse.

Jack leaves the booth only to tear open the door she hides behind.

She is standing, smiling like the cat that ate the cream and pulls him into the narrow space.

“I’m going to marry you.” Jack declares as he finds a better use for her wicked mouth.

#eva smith nelson #mrs nelson fic #national anthem fic #jack nelson x eva smith #jack nelson x oc

[callsign-rogueone]

Ok I'm sure I'm probably the only one to think this but I just got caught up on one of our favorite couples Brennan and duchess. And each time I read one of your fics about them and espically when xaden makes an appearance I can't help but wonder if xad and duchess are cousin or related somehow. And a they either now it or hide it and b they don't know at all. But I could also just be thinking completely of the rails here.

oh thats interesting. I hadn’t even considered them being biological family. they could be distantly related in the way that most royals are, but they’re pretty much brother and sister by now anyway:

he’s dating her husband’s sister

her parents fostered him and Liam after the war

and all the marked ones are like younger siblings to her, she cares for them deeply and helped prepare them for Basgiath before they left.

but before all that, they were not quite childhood friends (5-6 year age difference + they didn’t see each other much), but more like how you are with your parents friends kids: always dumped together at the kids table at gatherings, and probably not super close, but still friendly because you’re the only people here who aren’t old enough to drink and this is so boring, wanna go play uno or something?

I can imagine Bren freaking out after they surrender to the rebellion, like he still can’t believe she’s on a first-name basis with Fen Riorson’s kid, and she just laughs like; he doesn’t scare me. I used to babysit him and his cousin. they were cute kids :)

I like to think she had a large role in getting the other royals / surviving Tyrrish to foster the marked ones, and taking care of them in the meantime until they could get settled with a more permanent family.

Brennan was involved too, of course, because he stands by his woman, and he’s an older sibling / the caring type by nature, but also in Iron Flame he says he can’t mend magic or relics — meaning he tried to get rid of their marks but couldn’t 🥺

her love for them was another confirmation for Bren that this was the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with; despite her being an only child, she cares for the marked ones just as fiercely as he does for his own sisters.

that got out of hand lol sorry. I just love them sm 🥰

#liz.txt #answered #Brennan and Duchess

[hooked-on-elvis]

Elvis Presley in "Kid Galahad" (1962) 🥊💥

Directed by Phil Karlson and released by United Artists in August 1962. The movie opened at #9 at the American box office. Variety ranked it #37 on its list of the top-grossing films of 1962. "Kid Galahad" with Elvis Presley is a remake of the 1937 version starring Edward G. Robinson, Bette Davis and Humphrey Bogart and directed by Michael Curtiz, who also directed the 1958 Presley film "King Creole" released in 1958. Its actually said that Elvis prefered Mr. Curtiz had directed "Kid Galahad" instead of the actual director, just because he thought Michael was a perfect fit for this production.

#PLOT

Willy Grogan (Gig Young) is a small-time boxing promoter and innkeeper based in the Catskills resort region of Cream Valley, New York. He is a contemptible man who is in debt and pays little attention to the woman who loves him, Dolly (Lola Albright), a chain-smoking, love-starved woman residing at the camp. Walter Gulick (Elvis Presley) arrives, a young man recently discharged from the army (they based Elvis' character on his real life pretty frequently on the scripts. Elvis had been discharged from the army a year before, in March 1960. This wasn't the first of his characters to be a former soldier tho) who loves the peaceful setting almost as much as he loves working on old cars. Walter wishes to find work as a mechanic at a nearby garage.

[Sub-plot/romance] When Willy's younger sister Rose (Joan Blackman) shows up unexpectedly, she becomes interested in Walter. Willy objects because he doesn't want Rose to fall for a "grease monkey" mechanic and two-bit boxer. Dolly is envious of the young couple's romance and resents Willy's interference.

Walter, in need of work, accepts a job as a sparring partner and knocks out one of Willy's top fighters. Even tho Walter is not a professional boxer, Willy, afraid of his debts expiring, convinces Walter, dubbed as "Kid Galahad" for him, to try his hand in a real bout. Both men are reluctant but need money. Walter begins training under the watchful eye of Lew Nyack, Willy's top trainer (Charles Bronson).

Some fights here and there, and then there's the biggest fight, the ultimate challenge. Will Walter win the competition even being an amateur boxing fighter?

Place your bets🥊💥

PRODUCTION, ACTORS AND SOUNDTRACK

Professional boxing coach "Mushy" Callahan trained Elvis for the fight scenes. He is credited as "Technical Advisor" for this movie. Above we see Elvis Presley practicing with Mushy Callahan on the set of Kid Galahad, 1961.

Kid Galahad was shot on location in Idyllwild, California and onset in Hollywood, CA.

Shooting began in early November 1961 at Hidden Lodge, Idyllwild, California, before a storm forced a move to Hollywood.

Above, Elvis between takes on the "Kid Galahad", 1961.

Makeup shots for Kid Galahad at Culver Studios, Culver City, CA, 1962

Elvis shows what he looks like after he gets slammed. I believe they intentionally opted for "smoothing" the makeup bruises big time, since it's a pretty shocking image seeing Elvis like in the last two pictures, specially. Like, wtf?! It really shocked me seeing this picture. Now imagine this beaten up Elvis in motion on the big screen for thousands of teenagers to see. It looks straight out from a horror picture, doesn't it? Great talented makeup artist tho!

ELVIS' CO-STARS in 'Kid Galahad' (1962)

Presley's co-starts in "Kid Galahad" were Joan Blackman, Lola Albright, Charles Bronson and Gig Young.

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

And last but not least, the movie soundtrack

"Kid Galahad" (EP) released on August, 1962.

Six songs were recorded for the film and the soundtrack was issued as an extended play record in August 1962 to coincide with the film's premiere. Recorded on October, 1962, at Radio Recorders (Hollywood), the EP "Kid Galahad" was released in August 28, 1962.

The tracks featured on this EP were: "King of the Whole Wide World", "This Is Living", "Riding the Rainbow", "Home Is Where the Heart Is", "I Got Lucky" and "A Whistling Tune" — As the plots for Presley films became interchangeable, songs rejected for a certain storyline could later be used for an entirely different film, as with "A Whistling Tune" which had been omitted from Presley's previous film "Follow That Dream" (1962) but found a place here instead.

The featured song from the album, "King of the Whole Wide World", received Top 40 radio airplay and reached No. 30 on the Billboard Hot 100 singles chart.

"I Got Lucky" on scene from "Kid Galahad"

RECEPTION

"Kid Galahad" didn't have a warm reception among critics.

Variety's note was: "The story may be old, the direction not especially perceptive, the performances in several cases pretty poor, but United Artists' 'Kid Galahad' is apt to be a moneymaker in spite of all this." Another critics report, John L. Scott in the Los Angeles Times called the story "old hat" but thought that it "should more than satisfy the horde of Presley fans."

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

If you like this movie or not, it serves an undeniable purpose: Giving Elvis fans their well-deserved Elvis appreciation time. ❤️‍🔥

I don't know about you but I find Elvis incredibly, and specially, sexy in tank tops, cotton short-sleeves T-shirts and sweatshirts. In that movie EP delivers that all at once. The ultimate [hunk] boy next door.

... let's not forget the shirtless scenes. Yeah... the shirtless scenes. 🫠

Yeah, leaving aside the movie, Elvis Presley's our ultimate champion winning with a high score. He holds the champion's belt for the hottest/sexier man ever alive since the 50s. No one take over his title, no one can beat Elvis Presley. 🏆✨

Elvis Presley in "Kid Galahad" (1962).

#suddenly i feel like watching 'kid galahad' again #but whaaaaaat the fuck #not a single minute of peace #sweaty presley is something else #whew 🥵🥵🥵 #elvis #elvis presley #elvis history #elvis the king #elvis fans #elvis music #60s box office movies #elvis fandom #hollywood golden age #60s elvis #60s movies #1962 movies #1962 #Youtube