#for the love of leila do it for him

[starlitcrows]

idc about cyl anymore since Ive long stopped playing feh but i logged in just to vote for matthew for u :)

tfw your fiance, who was released three years after the launch date, gets an alt before you do... (not that you mind, but seriously what the-)

please vote matthew this CYL7 (THANK YOU ANON ;;)

#matthew #fire emblem heroes #feh #fe7 #fire emblem the blazing blade #fire emblem #neosketches #ask #anon #i love matthew sosososo much #i dont draw him nearly as often as (ahem) other people bc hes not exactly a popular unit #but i love him SO SO MUCH #pls get this mans some votes. anything #for the love of leila do it for him #cyl7

[nyukyusnz]

GIMME UR BF RN 😡😡😡🤚🏻🤚🏻 he seems like such a sweetie omfg help no because there’s this girl in my lunch period and she’s so so pretty but idk how to talk to her hOW DO U RIZZ

anyways

it’s the bi weekly leila steals kya’s bf time 👊🏻👊🏻👊🏻

NOT MY BF HES JUST TINY :SOBB: ASHSDDHSD I LOVE HIM SM

ALSO OMG IDK I DONT RIZZ ??????? PEOPLE JUST .... LIKE ME . PEOPLE COME UP TO ME . TRY JUST GOING UP TO HER AND COMPLIMENTING SOMETHING NOT BASIC [ex. dont compliment her hairstyle or clothes- you can ,, i just believe youd be better if you find something a lot more specific and comment on it but dont watch her ,, find something noticeable and get a conversation going from there [ex. in an ex. if theres someone with a sticker of a cartoon character or band-related you like ,, you can start talking about that or maybe a keychain, or backpack, or phone case etc .]

AHHAHAHA YALL DONT COME AFTER MY BF

#~! leila @leiksx -+* #i forgot my tags :Sob: #UGH i love my bf #dvjhfhvhvhdvgfhj #i could go ON baout him yall do NOT wanna know #my bsf has to deal with it take it from her you do NOT . she is on the verge of TEARS when i start :sobbbb:

[victorluvsalice]

And even better, when I looked on the porch, there was Smiler's missing drone! Reloading the lot had also reloaded it! I had Smiler go activate it while Victor and Alice got up and swam back to shore to retrieve their dinners (I also tried to have Victor set the outside table, only for him to protest he couldn't reach every seat after the first two -- I guess the little cabana-thing I put it under is actually too small! Whoops, my bad) and attempted to have them do their sand sculpture video --

Only for the actual building of the sand sculpture to never complete. Smiler just -- stood there while the drone filmed. I could not get them to actually complete the action. I finally got annoyed and canceled out the video -- which the game informed me was a "Charisma Video" when it prompted me to name it. I was like "...I know Smiler is everyone's best friend, but -- seriously? Charisma for just STANDING there, not even facing the camera half the time??" Sims 4 be weird and glitchy, yo.

Oh, and speaking of both that and best friendship, who should come running up around this time but Leila, with that "I wanna be best friends" pop up that annoys me so much! Smiler wasn't interested, as they'd just met a few hours earlier, but let her down easy with a quick brightening of her day before sending her on her way. Might as well not make a big thing of it -- she's not the first to do that (by a long shot -- again, need a mod to stop that if possible), and it already triggers a bad sentiment, so...we can be nice. This time.

With Leila on her way back home, the trio had a nice little family dinner together, Victor and Alice enjoying the fish (yeah, I know fish isn't usually Victor's thing, but I suspect he can make an exception for a) a special island vacation meal and b) a fish he caught himself) while Smiler had a plasma fruit. Victor and Alice then went to bed properly, in an attempt to sleep through the night, and Smiler went to jam on the back porch for a bit before trying again to make their sand sculpture video. And THIS time, thankfully, it worked, with Smiler making another cowplant-head sculpture for the camera. So that's nice! :) And once that video was in the can, I had them work on upgrading said camera, so future videos would be even better quality. :) Gotta think of the SimsTube channel, after all!

And so the day ended with Smiler back on their laptop, creating a proper social media profile online and making a few posts on a forum. What a lovely day for a honeymoon. :) Next time, though, the rain returns, prompting an early trip home to celebrate a certain fall holiday I added to the calendar...see you then!

#sims 4 #the lazy save #victor van dort #alice liddell #smiler always #I swear that drone was made to give me grief #I dunno why it is so hard to actually film yourself doing something with it #that's the whole point of having a drone is it not? #meeeeh #also there is a reason I put 'this time' after the paragraph on Smiler letting Leila down gently #you'll see the reason why next update #but this time I didn't want a lot of bad blood between them so yeah a Brighten Day after the 'no way' #and yeah fine maybe I should have made another island feast #but I thought it would be nice to use the tuna for the meal #and it's not like my Sims Victor can actually dislike eating fish #...well he could if I gave him the Child of the Ocean trait but that's not the same #seriously we should have food preferences in this game already #ah well at least they had a lovely start to fall in Sulani #glad the entire vacation wasn't a rainy mess that would have been genuinely very sad #queued

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

I have something fluffy to give you🥰🩷

Bucky sees Single Mom!Reader at the local grocery store and Bucky being the gentleman he is offers to help her with her crying baby🥺

"Guess I'm Just Good With Them"

PAIRINGS: James "Bucky" Barnes x SingleMom!Reader

WARNINGS: Bucky being good with babies.

WORD COUNT: 867

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

"Leila, honey. I know, but- Shh, shh," you pull your cart over to sit next to the toy aisle as you bounce your, now wailing, one-year-old girl on your arm.

"My love, I know, I know. But we gotta keep quiet," you wince as you feel the glares of the other ongoing shoppers on you and your child.

Being a single mom has its ups and downs, the ups are the highlights of your life. Witnessing the mini-you walk for the first time, saying "mama" for the first time, seeing her give you that gummy smile you love so much.

The others aren't your defining lows, but they hover in that range. The late nights, the screams, the tantrums, the picky eating. You had to do it yourself because your ass of an ex left you immediately when you said that you were pregnant.

"Leila, baby. Mama doesn't know what you want, honey," you have tried everything, but your girl wouldn't calm down to anything and nothing works. Your anxiety just increases as the number of glares doesn't stop rising.

You're on the verge of tears when suddenly you feel a tap on your shoulder.

"Ma'am, do you need some help?" a rough voice says behind you.

You turn and see this big, broad man with this sheepish look on his face, and the bluest eyes.

"I- uh," you stutter unsure what to do, you can't randomly dump your baby on some random stranger.

He shifts his weight from side to side, looking at your baby with a small smile. Leila whines harder and it slightly pierces your ears, you cringe and bounce her quicker than before.

The man picks out a Piglet stuffed animal from the toy aisle and shakes it in front of Leila. Her wail quiets down, and she reaches for the stuffed cartoon character.

Soon, it's just her flushed puffy face and dried tears on her cheeks as she holds the toy close.

"I-oh my god, thank you," you tell the stranger, he gives a tight-lipped smile and nods at your words.

"I can hold on to her and follow you around, while you do your shopping," he suggests, and you hesitate slightly but give in eventually knowing that this won't go anywhere if you don't take action now.

You hand Leila to the man, and he softly coos at the little girl. Leila seems fascinated by his gold and dark green metal arm.

"What's her name?" he asks, looking at you. "Oh uh, Leila," you say, pulling your cart closer to you. "And your's?" You blink at his question, before offering your with a timid voice.

"I'm James," he smiles softly.

-----

You finally paid for everything in your cart, and the tension in your shoulders seems to ease at the idea of you finally being able to get home.

Putting everything in the trunk of your car was easily done, with the weight of your child in James' arms.

Turning back to James, you see Leila still holding the stuffed Piglet.

"Leila, no, we didn't pay for that," you try to reach for the toy, but your stubborn little girl refuses to budge.

James chuckles, and he shakes his head, "it's alright, I paid for it. She can have it."

You're silent.

You're gobsmacked.

Did this man, this random stranger buy your child a toy?

That's more than your ex ever did.

"I-huh?-wha- James, you didn't have to do that," you quickly reach for your wallet, adamant about paying him back.

He grabs your wrist with one hand, his metal one carrying a tired Leila, "really, you don't have to."

You sigh and smile tiredly at him.

Sometimes, you underestimate the kindness of strangers. And as a single mom, you really are grateful for anything that comes your way.

You take Leila back into your arms and she's whipped. She immediately finds comfort in your arms and closes her eyes.

"Well, I guess we should get going."

Why did you say it like that?

Why did you say it like you didn't want to leave yet?

Like you didn't want to leave him yet.

You can see a sadness flash through James's face as he nods slowly, "yes, guess I should go too."

You both nod but remain standing at the Walmart parking lot.

"I should really go," you nod your head over your shoulder.

He nods as well.

As you turn to leave, he calls out your name.

"Is there a chance that I could grab your number?" He scratches the back of his neck. "I would like to see you and Leila again."

You blush at his words.

He wants to see you again?

You nod slightly and type your number into his flip-phone, you laughed when he first pulled it out.

You chuckle unable to wrap your mind around the idea of this gorgeous man wanting to ask for your number, "I still don't have a clue on how you managed to get her to quiet down back in there."

He laughs lightly and saves your name with a small heart next to it, you don't have to know that he did that. "Guess I'm just good with them."

💌💌💌

ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS PROMPT, BABES!!!

Bucky + children = me being super horny

I just wanna have a life, where this man is really 😩😩

Till' then

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes headcanon

[strawberrysainz]

pretty visitors. charles leclerc

“ at carlos and isa’s wedding, a certain someone can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. you can’t either. ”

charles leclerc x reader

a warning — crude language and alcohol consumption.

from leila; “a short little something for ya. xx”

The wedding photographer was calling Isa’s friends to come take a picture, and you downed the champagne you were holding, dropping your belongings on the table chaotically before rushing outside the tent to the beautiful lawn in the forefront of the vineyard.

It was a gorgeous Spanish summer evening, absolutely perfect conditions to hold a wedding, and you couldn’t help but get a little emotional with nostalgia when you see Isa laughing in the glow of the early evening, remembering the chaos of your early twenties trying to learn Spanish from her, then going to work in motorsport- where your personal and work lives crossed when you accidentally introduced Carlos to Isa.

You hugged her again, surrounded by all of these lovely women from all over, and she kissed your cheek.

“Tu es si belle [you are so beautiful],” you say in French, pursing your lips trying not to cry again, and everyone agrees loudly, emotional on the champagne.

“Shut up,” Isa says. “I’ve tried not to cry the whole day and now you might make me.” You laugh, and everyone follows.

Many pictures are taken, and more champagne is poured while the newlyweds walk around, grasping hands.

You head back to the table to get your phone quickly, wanting to take pictures of the gradual setting sun, when you see Charles putting his things down next to your seat. “Ah, you are my seat buddy?” You say, smiling, and he brings you in for a hug. “Ravi de vous voir [nice to see you]” he answers with a peck to your cheeks, and you pick up your phone. “Please can I take a picture of you and Carlos!” You shout, slightly tipsy, yielding it, and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t you dare send it to the social media team.”

You wink.

Eventually you manage to get Carlos with him to take a picture while the sun sets, and someone’s aunt comes to snatch your phone. “Ve a estar con ellos [go be with them],” your rusty Spanish helps you, and you go to stand in the middle; Charles taps Carlos. “Kiss her cheek!”

You laugh when they both smush their lips on your cheeks, giggling uncontrollably as the auntie grins from behind your phone.

Someone gets Isa to join in, running in between them to kiss you on the lips, and Carlos gasps dramatically. “Ay! Ay why do you steal my bride?”

You nearly can’t breathe when you get your phone back, cooing at the photos you got.

💌💋💐💿🍓

Dinner flies by; you’re seated with Charles, Lando, Daniel and Heidi, a few of your friends from the paddock, and from home, and their partners. You laugh and get progressively more drunk as the night continues.

You find yourself resting your cheek against Charles’ for Lando’s camera, and your smile is wide and real.

Eventually the first dance happens, and suddenly you’re all dancing, and then the stronger drinks are distributed, and the night gets more fun.

You find yourself dancing with Charles, spinning and jumping, and your silky dress is a blur, his grinning face imprinted in your mind.

Eventually you stop, going outside for a breather, and he follows you.

The alcohol has finally hit you like a train, and your smile is bright and boozy as you sit on the grass in the fresh night air.

He sits down next to you, eyes droopy, and you rest your head on his shoulder with a drunken huff.

A slow song is playing from inside, and he stands up unsteadily, pulling you up, and he dances with you, swaying slowly.

You gaze into his eyes, heart beating wildly in that way only this night could describe.

“Tu es incroyablement belle [you are incredibly beautiful],” he whispers, and your eyes soften.

Daniel calls for the two of you loudly, and you reply, breaking away with a reluctance you didn’t realise you had.

The party carries on, Lando stealing the DJ’s job, and you find yourself stealing glances at Charles every moment you can get, looking away hurriedly when he does the same.

“There’s something about a wedding, no?” A friend shouts in your ear, and you giggle, nodding.

Charles brushes your arm about an hour later at the bar, ordering something strong, and he murmurs something too soft in your ear for you to hear. His lips on your ear make you shiver though, so when his fingers grasp your arm you nearly lose yourself in him.

“Charles,” you slur. “I’m too drunk to kiss you right now.”

He cackles then, and loses his balance; you grab him with an equally loud laugh.

“I know, me too. Tomorrow. I promise.” He says, and kisses your cheek. You hug him tight then, whispering promises of forever.

💌💋💐💿🍓

A pounding headache wakes you up the next morning, two of your friends next to you in the king sized bed. You yawn, getting up to make coffee and get something to help with the hangover.

After you resemble a functional being, you try to look through the mess of the villa to find your nearly-dead phone, where texts from Charles from last night await you.

4:23

Noo why did you go to b Ed

Lando and i are still shooting Jägers

4:56

i think I wil L go to bed later now maybe

Borin G without you

5:20

Fuck I got ya be awake soon

Nibht night

9:50

Please don’t read any of that please

Gonna go get some croissants and orange juice please find a 🍾 so we can make some mimosas i want to drink still lol

We can have a nice brunch thing by the patio

Save me a kiss

The last text leaves you somewhat bashful, and you try to rake a hand through your knotted hair, yawning, opening the fridge to get a bottle of champagne and two glasses to set on the counter.

A knock on the door some minutes later makes you grab the things and take them to greet him. He sets down a blanket on the grass; you put down the bottle and glasses next to his bag of fresh croissants.

“I’m sorry I’m still in my pyjamas,” you laugh, and the smirk on his face makes you blush. “I think you look cute.”

“Cute enough for a kiss?” You say, scrunching your nose, and he hands you the mimosa.

“The cutest.”

His kiss brought the sun, and you could bask in it forever.

💌💋💐💿🍓

yourinstagram

holy shit my besties got married, isa & carlos may your love last forever. proudest to know you. also you know im serious when there’s an outfit change 🖤

tagged: isahernaez, carlossainz55

landonorris you were the worst bridesmaid

username y/n living my life rn

danielricciardo enchanté

username AWWWW … but who that 🥸

username i may be delulu but that could be mr charles himself…..

isahernaez ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

charlesleclerc

you guys finally got married. beautiful beautiful couple ❤️‍🔥

username HOL UP THATS yourinstagram BLACK DRESS ???????

carlossainz55 can’t drink jägerbombs again after you mate

username 😳😳😳😳 Y/N??????

username charles you are NOT subtle

heidiberger_ thanks for being the photographer! lando was awful

landonorris girl????

lando.jpg

going to the chapel and we’re….

username THAT IS Y/N’S BLACK DRESS AND CHARLES HAIR. OMFG

author’s note — if you have requests, feel free to send in! 💌

masterlist

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 x you #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc drabble #f1 one shot #f1 fic #f1

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [8] - Bells

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Some decisions require late night visits.

Word Count: 2600

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

You didn’t think the rest of the week would be peaceful in any way but even you couldn’t guess just how tense it would be.

“This is insane,” Becca pointed out, crossing her arms and leaning back on her seat. You had decided to meet up for brunch but this time, two other tables in the café were also reserved for your and Becca’s multiple bodyguards who were enjoying their coffees. You stole a look at them, then turned to Becca.

“You’re telling me,” you said. “Four bodyguards everywhere I go. It sounds absurd.”

“And this is Barnes territory!” Becca hissed. “I’ve never ever needed bodyguards in our territory, and all of a sudden...”

“How stressed out is everyone?” you asked and she shook her head with a sigh.

“I could barely see Bucky in these last couple of days,” she said. “My dad said I have nothing to worry about, but you know how he is. It’s kind of condescending, honestly.”

“And your mom?”

“She has this bright idea to send me off to vacation to Zürich until the dust settles here.”

You pulled your brows together. “Will you?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “I’m not leaving any of you here.”

You reached out to squeeze at her hand before grabbing your coffee to take a sip.

“How about you?”

“I think I will get the same speech tonight,” you said. “My dad wants to talk to me.”

“And?”

“I’ll make a counter offer.”

“To?”

“To help out,” you said. “With this situation. Besides, me leaving in a time like this would be basically handing Ian the heir position, and I’m not doing that.”

“Do you think your father will accept that offer though?”

“We’ll see,” you said, trying to ignore the way your stomach did a flip. “I’d be better than Ian than handling this, he has to see that.”

“Bucky says Ian isn’t even carrying a gun anymore,” Becca said with a small laugh and you tilted your head.

“What?”

“Yeah. Apparently he says no one can get to him with his men around him. I guess it’s his way of making them think he trusts them with his life.”

You rolled your eyes. “Right.”

“As much as I hate to admit, it looks like it’s working,” Becca admitted. “He looks pretty confident.”

“Confidence can lead to very huge mistakes,” you said and cleared your throat. “Ugh, let’s talk about something else. How’s everything with Leila?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you!” Becca said, snapping her fingers. “Do you think it’s still too early to ask her to marry me?”

You blinked a couple of times. “Becca, you two started dating less than a week ago.”

“Yeah but I could still ask her!”

“That’s the hopeless romantic in you speaking.”

“That’s the orgasms speaking actually,” she corrected you, making you grin.

“Either way, neither of those make you think logical.”

“Logical is overrated,” she pointed out. “How about you?”

“Me?”

“You and Ethan?”

“We’re not doing anything,” you said slowly. “I did hire some bodyguards for him though, just in case.”

“Maybe you should take the first step.”

“I’m not going to do that,” you said, shaking your head fervently and she hummed.

“Don’t tell me Bucky’s proposal affected you like that.”

“What? No!” you exclaimed, scrunching up your face. “Why would you say that?”

Becca rolled her eyes.

“Maybe because I’ve known you two my whole life?”

Your frown deepened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Please,” she said, shooting you a look. “All those glances and so much bickering, it’s obvious something is there—”

“Hate,” you cut her off. “Hate is what’s there.”

Becca gave you a mischievous smile, then sipped her coffee.

“Whatever you say.”

“Bucky and I could never work,” you insisted and Becca hummed.

“What about you and Ethan?”

“Ethan is—” you paused for a moment. “Dating him would be incredibly simple. You know, no ulterior motives, no strategies, nothing complex.”

“That would be so convincing if you could deal with simple more than just a couple of months.”

“You can,” you said and Becca waved a hand in the air.

“I was never promised the heir position,” she said. “It was always Bucky. That’s why I’ve never had that…that burning ambition both of you have. At the end of the day, I do want a simple life Y/N but you’ve never been that type. I don’t think you could actually be happy in a simple relationship.”

You clicked your tongue and leaned back in your chair.

“Well then that complicates things,” you said. “I don’t think I would be happy with someone in the business either.”

“Why not?”

“Are you kidding?” you said with a laugh. “Come on, you know how spouses are treated in the business. You’re just—you’re there as the arm candy, they never let you get involved—”

“That’s the generation before us.”

“Did Bucky put you up to this?” you asked and she huffed out a laugh.

“I didn’t say you should marry my brother,” she pointed out. “I’m just saying maybe you shouldn’t force yourself to like a simple life if you want more than that. Especially if you’re basing your decision on some ancient bullshit rule our families decided to follow.”

You heaved a sigh and took a sip of your coffee.

“Didn’t you just say logical is overrated?” you asked. “Since when are you so logical?”

“I have my moments,” Becca grinned at you. “So. Can we talk about my love life now?”

“Yes but you can’t ask her to marry you.”

“I can ask her to be my fiancée,” Becca stated and you tilted your head.

“That’s…that’s basically the same, Becca.”

Becca rolled her eyes and groaned.

“Fine!” she said. “Can I at least ask her if we should move in together?”

You bit back a smile.

“I’ll give you my permission for that once you two reach the third month.”

“Oh we will,” Becca said with a bright smile. “Great. I’ll send you the house warming party gift list when I get home then.”

                                               *

 You had assumed your father would see you and gave you the same speech Becca got from her parents at home, but apparently he was swamped with work so he had asked you to come to the company. When you got there, your father’s assistant told you he was in the middle of a meeting with Ian and Stark, so you took a seat in the waiting area and stole a look at Ryan who was no doubt waiting for Ian.

“Hi Ryan.”

“Ma’am,” he greeted you, his tone rough but respectful. You smiled at him, crossing your arms.

“Waiting for my cousin?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” you asked and he paused for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders.

“Why are you working for him?” you asked. “He’s an asshole.”

Ryan didn’t even dignify that with an answer as he looked at you, his expression completely calm like he was very used to not giving answers.

 “Riveting conversation as always,” you teased him and he bit back a small smile.

“I respect your family, ma’am.”

“I mean you don’t really have to respect Ian though, God knows he does nothing to earn that,” you pointed out. “You know he’s looking forward to starting a war, right?”

“He’s ready to see you,” the assistant said before Ryan could answer you, and you nodded your head, then stood up from the couch.

“Have a nice evening Ryan.”

“You too ma’am,” he said and you followed the assistant to your father’s office.

“Y/N sweetheart, hello,” he said as he walked to you to press a kiss on your cheek. “Sit down, sit down!”

“How was your meeting?” you asked and he waved a hand in the air.

“The usual,” he said. “I have four other meetings after this.”

“Daddy—”

“I will rest when I get home, I promise,” he said and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Right. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“It’s just that I don’t know when they will be finished, and I figured you’d be asleep by the time I got home,” he said. “Y/N listen—”

“Don’t bother giving me that speech, I’m not going anywhere,” you cut him off and he frowned.

“How did you…?”

“Winnifred gave the same speech to Becca. She tried to send her to Zürich, where are you trying to send me?”

“Wherever you want,” your father said. “I was thinking Florence but…”

“Florence is a gorgeous city,” you said. “I’d love to see it sometime, maybe next Christmas.”

“Y/N.”

You gave him a small grin. “Hm?”

“It’s going to be safer for you if you just go away from the city for a while.”

“While you and Ian handle things?”

“While I handle things.”

“But Ian stays?” you insisted and he ran a hand over his face.

“Yes, but—”

“I’m not going,” you said, your voice firm. “Send him away if you want, but I’m not leaving the city when there’s a war coming.”

“I feel like you need to think about this,” your father said and you shook your head.

“I did think about it.”

“Y/N, I will feel much better if I know you’re away from danger, at least until the dust settles here.”

You sat up straighter, your heart pacing in your chest.

“Dad I can help,” you said. “With all this. You know I can.”

A look of realization dawned on his face.

“We’ve talked about this.”

“No we haven’t,” you insisted. “Not really. We keep ignoring it, ignoring the fact that you haven’t named a successor—”

“That’s because I’m not planning on retiring soon.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Others might believe that lie, but I do not.”

Your father heaved a sigh, then pushed himself off of his seat to come closer to you, then leaned back to his desk, crossing his arms.

“And please tell me, what is it that you want to hear from me right now?” he asked you and you shook your head.

“Don’t patronize me,” you said through your teeth. “You know what I’m capable of, you trained me for times like these. You know I’d make a much better heir than Ian—”

“Y/N, enough.”

“Just give me a chance to prove myself,” you insisted. “That’s all I’m asking. You don’t have to make me the head of all operations, but give me a chance to show you I can do this. I’ve already prepared a plan—”

“Let me stop you right there,” he said. “What you’re suggesting is absolutely out of question.”

Your jaw clenched. “Why?”

“We already have a plan.”

“Okay,” you let out an impatient breath. “Then you can tell me the plan and I’ll help.”

“No need, we have everything covered.”

You could feel the anger bubbling in your stomach but you dug your fingernails into your palm, reminding yourself to stay calm.

“Dad,” you said slowly. “You promised me.”

“And I promised your mother!” he snapped, making you stop talking. “I promised your mother that I would keep you safe, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

The bridge of your nose along with the back of your eyes started burning, a sure sign that the tears were on their way but you blinked fast a couple of times, biting at your tongue.

“That was your mother’s dying wish,” he said, looking you in the eye. “I’m not going to break my promise to her.”

You swallowed thickly. “Mom would want me to be happy.”

 “And you think this life would make you happy?” he asked you. “All this bloodshed, this violence?”

“I was born into bloodshed and violence,” you reminded him. “I’ve spent all my life in it. What, you think you can keep me safe by pushing me out of the picture?”

“It’s much safer than being in the middle of it.”

“For now,” you pointed out. “What about the future? I already know three families that will refuse to do business with Ian.”

Your father shrugged his shoulders. “It’s too early to worry about that. I’m not retiring anytime soon.”

“Dad, he wants to start a war.”

“He will see that war isn’t good for business,” he brushed you off. “He’s just very eager to prove himself right now, that’s all. He’s not going to start a war, don’t worry.”

You gritted your teeth and pursed your lips, glaring at him.

“You got your fire from me, your mother was much calmer,” he said with a small smile. “So I swear to you, I understand your frustration and anger very well. The crown you think you want right now? It’s way too dangerous sweetheart. You’ll see it in time that I’m making the right choice.”

The tears blurred your sight for a moment before you blinked them away and wetted your lips, trying to ignore the lump in your throat.

“You’re not going to name me as your successor, are you?” you rasped out. “Nor will you let me prove myself.”

Your father held your gaze in his for a second, then shook his head.

“No.”

The disappointment hit you so hard that it made your head spin. This wasn’t news to you in any way, you had spent years watching your father treat Ian like his successor but actually hearing it from him was enough to make you want to scream. Anger rushed through you, boiling your blood and you bit your tongue hard enough to hurt, and nodded slowly.

“Okay,” you heard yourself say as you stood up, not even looking him in the eye and he took a deep breath.

“Honey…” he started but you walked out of his office without sparing him a glance, your whole body moving as if it was on autopilot. You got to the elevator and pressed the button, then stepped inside and watched the doors close, sniffling as you wiped at your eyes.

Very well then.

If your father didn’t want to give you power, you were going to take it for yourself.

                                               *

The address wasn’t exactly familiar to you seeing that you hadn’t been there before, but your driver knew the way. When you walked into the building and gave the reception your name, it took them less than a minute to guide you to the elevator, everyone around you rushing like they were instructed not to make you wait even for a second. When the elevator stopped at the top floor, a bodyguard led you to the door of the penthouse to knock on the door and you heard the footsteps coming closer before the door opened.

It looked like Bucky had dashed through the apartment to put his jeans on when they told him you were there, seeing that he was breathing quite fast. You let yourself run your gaze over his bare muscular torso, the tattoos over his chest catching your attention before your eyes snapped up to his, your heart skipping a beat.

God damn it, you almost forgot just how handsome he was.

“Charm,” he said, offering you a small smile. “Hi.”

“Hey there,” you said as you walked past him into the penthouse before he could invite you inside and he closed the door behind you.

“This is a nice surprise,” he said while you glanced around. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You took a deep breath and turned around to look at him better, your heart beating in your ears.

“Get rid of whoever is in your bedroom,” you said and shot him a sarcastic smile as you crossed your arms. “We need to talk about the wedding.”

Chapter 9

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky x reader #mob boss bucky barnes #mob boss!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mob!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mob au

[alotofpockets]

From the sidelines | Leila Ouahabi x Reader & Jill Roord x Platonic!Reader

Where Leila gets injured, and you have to watch from the sidelines.

This one is for you @sleekswosobession happy birthday!

Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

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You found your seat amongst the crowd at Etihad Stadium, it wasn’t long after you sat down that you saw Jill Roord heading your way. “Hey Jill, how are you doing?” Since she had done her ACL she watched her team play from the stands, you hated that she was injured, but you loved the company. “I’m hanging in there, wish I could be on the field, you know?” You nod, though you had no personal experience, you could imagine how hard it was for her to not be able to play. “Anyways, how are you? Still enjoying WAG life?” The term made you laugh, “I’m doing well, and WAG life is great as always.” 

The two of you talked until warm-ups started. Leila looked into the crowd, always eager to find you as soon as she could. Once she did she waved at you with the biggest smile on her face, you waved back and didn't let your eyes leave your girlfriend as the team started their warming up. “The only good thing about missing out on playing is watching how disgustingly in love the two of you are.” Jill jokes, earning herself a friendly shove. “Missing Jana I see.” You throw back at her, making the girl sigh, “Yeah I do.”

Forty minutes into the game, and it was dead equal. Possession, shots on goal, and shots on target, both teams were performing at a high level on all parts of the field. You watched as Leila intercepted the ball between two of the opposing players, and started running up the field with it. She passed a few players already, and was looking to give the assist to Jess or Chloe. Before she could even decide to which one of the forwards she was going to pass the ball, she plummeted to ground reaching for her ankle instantly.

You watched in fear as you saw the hard tackle that was made on your girlfriend. Standing with your hand over your mouth as she reached for her ankle, and wasn’t getting up. Jess was signaling for the medics before the referee even made it to Leila. “Please tell me my mind is tricking, and it’s not as bad as it looks.” Jill puts her hand on your shoulder, “I wish I could.” The way Leila’s face contorted each time the medics touched her ankle said enough for the level of pain she was in.

The crowd went silent as a stretcher was brought onto the field, and Leila was given a green whistle to ease the pain. “Come on, follow me.” You followed Jill down the stands, where she managed to get the both of you on the sidelines of the pitch. Jill knew from her injury that she wanted nothing more than for Jana to be by her side, so she wanted Leila to have that opportunity. You watched from the sidelines as your girlfriend was helped onto the stretcher and carried in your direction. “Go, she’ll need you in there.” Jill urged you to follow the stretcher. You stepped in line with them and reached for your girlfriend’s hand, “I’m here baby.”

You sat with Leila as the medical team checked out her ankle. “I think you have broken something in your ankle, but you’re going to need to go to the hospital to get an x-ray to make sure. Go as soon as you can, so we can treat it best.” He was talking to Leila, but she was a bit out of it from the green whistle, so you take in the information and answer him. “I can take her right now.”

Since Leila was a bit loopy from the green whistle, you accepted Jill's offer to go to the hospital with you. The two of them sat in the back, as you drove. “Jill,” Your girlfriend started, “did you know that I have the most beautiful girlfriend?” You blush at the comment. Jill smirks, and pulls out her phone. “What did you say?” She films your girlfriend's loopy confessions. “My girlfriend is the most beautiful girl in the whole world. She's so pretty, and so smart. Jill, she is really amazing. I love her so much.” Jill pans the camera to your blushing state in the mirror, before pocketing her phone again.

At the hospital you're helped quickly because the medical team called ahead. They took Leila to get some x-rays, while you nervously waited in the room for the results. They brought your girlfriend back before they had the results ready, saying that the doctor would be with you shortly. The effects of the green whistle were starting to wear off, and Leila was seemingly in more pain. You reach for her hand, “It's okay, the doctor will prescribe something in a bit.” 

The doctor came back with the results of the x-rays. The bad news was that her ankle was definitely broken. The good news, she wasn't going to need surgery. With a boot and a pair of crutches she was sent on her way. The doctor would contact the medical team with a course of treatment. After picking up the prescribed medication, you headed back to the car.

You dropped Jill off at her place and thanked her for all her help, before you made your way to your place. Leila quickly got the hang of the crutches, as you walked her to the front door. Once she was settled on the couch, you made a trip back to the car to grab your bags. “Are you hungry, love?” She might not have played the full match, but she still used up a lot of her energy. “Yeah, but can we order in? I really want some cuddles right now.” You smile at her grabby hands and make your way over to the couch. “That sounds like a great plan.”

With the delivery order placed, Leila cuddles into your side. “Did they win?” Her passion for the team was always present. “Yes, they did. 2-0.” You always had match notifications on for her team, so when you were in the hospital, you had seen the final score. 

“Oh, also Jill sent something to the group chat that you might want to check out.” She watched herself simp over you with a smile on her face. “Even drugged up me knows what's important.” She pecks your lips. “I love you baby, thank you for being here for me.” 

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💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

#leila ouahabi #leila ouahabi x reader #leila ouahabi imagine #manchester city women #man city women #man city wfc #manchester city wfc x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #espwnt imagine #jill roord #jill roord x reader #jill roord imagine

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — TEEN DAD! GOJO x FEM READER

wc — 500

tags — reminding you once again as I always do that teen dad Gojo and reader are child soldiers who should be experiencing some kind of trauma from their experiences, title inspired by Leila Chatti’s poem I Went Out To Hear, an extra scene in teen dad gojoverse, in which you and Gojo raise Megumi together  

It’s impossible to call life with Gojo boring, but it’s what you want for him, for both of your boys. They’ve had enough hardship in their life. Heroes make for interesting stories but miserable lives. If you could spare them all that, you would. 

Sometimes, in the dead of night, you can’t sleep. You have to get up to creep into Megumi’s room, stroke his hair and remind yourself that he’s okay. Then you can’t rest without checking on Gojo, though you know he’s fine in the shared bedroom you just came from. 

He comes and finds you five minutes or less after you’ve gotten up, he always does. If you’re gone, he wakes up almost instantly. 

He always looks for you. If he finds you by the counter, nursing a glass of cold water like you always do, he’ll slot himself between you and the hard marble, caging you in with his body. You say cage because there’s no other way to describe it, but that’s not what it feels like. The pressure calms you down, reminds you that this home you’ve made for yourself is safe. Megumi is safe here. Gojo is invincible. 

He’ll run his knuckles down your face and drape his arms around you. Sleepily, he presses his face into your neck, alternating between soft kisses and sweet words. His breath ghosts along your skin, a pleasant warmth. He always smells faintly of mint and citrus, a hint of jasmine, because you mentioned you liked it once and he never forgot. 

“Don’t worry, my love,” he says, and it’s always my love when you wake him up in the dead of the night. “I’m here.” 

He’ll hold you until you stop shaking, soothed by his presence and the familiarity of the kitchen you designed together. It’s a reminder that this life is one the two of you share, that he’s yours. You picked the marble for the countertop together. Shoko gave you the glasses from your wedding registry. The white cabinets with their blue accents are your decision, because blue is your favorite color. 

The lights overhead have a brightness setting that you can dim to be more comfortable, and in his embrace, you relax. When you’re ready, he’ll guide you back to bed, still refusing to let go. It’s with his steady weight behind you, a promise, that you can finally drift off. 

#sera writes #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojou x reader #gojo x reader #gojou x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

[electronickingdomfox]

"The New Voyages" review

This one is actually a collection of short stories by fan authors, which makes the stories seem more like episodes of the series. It has also the distinct honor of being introduced by Roddenberry and most members of the cast. The stories are generally well-written and in character.

Some spoilers ahead:

Ni Var (by Claire Gabriel; intro by Nimoy) takes the plot of "The Enemy Within", but applied to Spock and the division between his Vulcan rational part, and his human emotional part. Besides the fact that I'm not sure such division works at that biological level, the two Spocks aren't all that different really. And it's not a very novel concept, specially right after a similar plot in previous book "Spock must die". But bonus points for Kirk giving the middle finger to his own reflection.

Intersection Point (by Juanita Coulson; intro by Doohan) is one of the best stories. The Enterprise is seriously crippled while navigating through an anomaly cloud, which is quickly contracting and threatens to crush the entire ship. Anyone who enters the cloud to retrieve a crucial component of the ship, is mentally destroyed by its eldritch qualities. Great tension and difficult choices.

The Enchanted Pool (by Marcia Ericson; intro by Nichols) is an attempt to write a fairy tale with Spock thrown in the middle for good measure. A bit of purple prose, and doesn't quite work. The resolution of the mistery is ingenous, even when convoluted.

Visit to a Weird Planet Revisited (by Ruth Berman; intro by Barrett) is actually the other half of a fanfic (Visit to a Weird Planet, not published here) where Kirk, Spock and Bones end up in the real world, right in the studio where they're filming Star Trek. Here instead, we follow the actors, who appear in the Enterprise and have to improvise to avert a danger. The other story was more fun, since Kirk and co. are more clumsy and hilarious in our world (being even "attacked" by fans), while the actors are just slightly less competent than their counterparts.

The Face on the Barroom Floor (by Eleanor Arnason and Ruth Berman; intro by Takei) is a really fun story. Kirk gets into a fight in a bar while in shore leave, is detained, teams up with a ratty thief, and crashes a party, while his crew search for him frantically. In the line of TOS best comedy-adventure episodes.

The Hunting (by Doris Beetem; intro by the editors) is a bit "meh". Spock goes into a Vulcan ritual which requires to mind-meld with a wild beast, and McCoy accompanies him. When Spock goes wild in the process, the good doctor has to hunt him and give him back his sanity. There could have been a more homoerotic fight between them, as in "Amok Time".

The Winged Dreamers (by Jennifer Guttridge; intro by Kelley) is another high point. The Enterprise crew falls under the influence of some creatures that make their fantasies seem real. So real that people can actually die if imagining the wrong thing. Spock is less affected, but slowly begins to hallucinate too, and the triumvirate fall into paranoia as neither they (nor the reader) can tell what's real and what's not anymore.

Mind-Sifter (by Shirley Maiewski; intro by Shatner) drags a bit at the beginning, when Kirk wakes up in a sanatory, his mind almost destroyed. It gets more interesting once Spock and McCoy start a quest to search for him. Great interactions between these two, reminiscent of "The Tholian Web".

After the eight stories there's still a little poem about Spock and Leila.

Spirk Meter: 10/10*. Not all stories are equally slashy, but the parts which do, are slashy in spades.

Ni Var has Kirk worrying about Spock all the time, and "human Spock" wondering if what he feels for the Captain is friendship... or love (something which happens too in one of Roddenberry's story concepts for a movie, around this time).

Intersection Point has a clear parallel between the anguish of a female crewmember, after a man (obviously her boyfriend) loses his mind in the anomaly, and Kirk agonizing once Spock has to enter the same anomaly.

The Enchanted Pool, where Spock refuses to kiss a beautiful female time and time again. Even when the woman assures him it's the only way to break a spell and escape. Even when Spock is doing far more dangerous things ALL THE TIME to solve problems. Of course, he considers the kiss a total waste of time once it doesn't work.

The Face on the Barroom Floor: Kirk is invited to a bar by McCoy and Sulu, who have found three women to pass the time, one for each. What does Kirk do? He gets out the bar two seconds later, puts on a samurai costume, and goes instead to a bar full of muscular, rowdy men, to get thrashed by them. Of course.

The Winged Dreamers has Spock wishing to stay on a planet with Kirk, just the two of them, for ever and ever. McCoy totally gets what's going on.

And I thought that Mind-Sifter would be about the love between a (quite unproffesional) nurse, and her mentally unstable patient, Kirk. But oh man, where do I even begin!? For starters, we have Kirk using his mind link with Spock to cry for help, across the galaxy and several centuries. And later he's concerned about how much can Spock read into his mind. Then we have McCoy informing the nurse that no, Kirk can't stay with her, because his love is his career and his... (trails off, having said too much). Gallant Spock carries an unconscious Kirk in his arms, and tells the nurse that, no matter how much she loves him, Kirk DOES NOT love her back (bitch!). If that wasn't enough, there's a lenghty conversation at the end, where Kirk almost melts in love and appreciation for Spock, and the Vulcan blushes at his own emotional display.

*A 10 in this scale is the most obvious spirk moments in TOS. Think of the back massage, "You make me believe in miracles", or "Amok Time" for example.

#star trek tos #star trek #k/s #spirk #star trek novels #novel review

[nyukyusnz]

my inbox is so dry .

#[ this is a sign to talk to me ] #im hashtag lonely and my inbox is currenly dehydrated . #.!! open thoughts ~. #ANYWAYS . i miss moon . #like . #texting isnt enough yk ? A TEXT DOES NOT INTERTWINE OUR FINGERS AND SHOW THE SMILES ON OUR FACES . #[ i swear i wont spam anyones inbox about him !!!!!!!!! ] #or will i #ANYWAYS #heyyyyyyyyyy how yall doing . #sorry to all you singlians out there that are jealous . #cough cough raven cough cough eli cough deni cough cough leila cough anyone else that is a singlian #HAN . AND KIERA . AND MEG etc #SORRY GUYSSSSSSSSSSSSS #LMAOOAOAAOOA #.!! the love of my life <3 ~.

[xalicitie]

Take Care of Me — Paul Maud’dib Atreides (smut)

Leila is Chani’s trusted crony. While Chani and Paul share a passionate and intimate love for one another, as Paul embraces his role as Lisan Al-Gaib, Chani encounters detrimental trouble in dealing with his new persona and thus turns to Leila as a channel for her frustration. Leila has been Paul’s own medic for a day, and returning to his chambers to treat an opened wound, she takes her frustration out on him. And yet, she finds out he’s frustrated, too.

The full story will be posted on AO3–HAHA. Just kidding. I have no fucking motivation anymore and it’s killing me. If I manage to fill in a few scenes on this story, then it will make it onto AO3. The full story starts a few scenes ahead of this.

Also, this is based on the movies. I’m reading book 1 now, but I wrote this pretty early on. A lot of the stuff probably won’t make sense in the Dune world. If u have a problem suck my cokkk

Isn’t it obvious I like medic smut scenarios

Also if u want the ending of this tell me! idk if the Dune fandom will welcome me here🙏

I enter Paul Maud’Dib Atreides’ chambers for my second round—and yet within my circumstance, and the unfortunate display of events that have fallen into place, instead of knocking, I barge through.

I find Usul confined to his bed, blood gushing through his white garment.

“Leave.” I pronounce with an impatient tongue. The nurses at Usul’s side take a look at me, and with silent agreement, rush off and through his grand doors.

Usul dons a blank countenance, slightly embellished with the graze of concern. More prominently, however, I can see physical pain in his eyes. I try not to let him uncover that this deeply perturbs me.

“Now why in the fucking world would you do this to yourself?” I demand. My footsteps boom through the lifeless room, my lips stiff with inhibition.

He sits there for a second, gaping up at me slightly, plainly confused.

“Excuse me?”

I know this is the Messiah. And I understand that he could have me thrown off the planet for speaking to him in such a wretched way. But with this, I uncover in myself boiling rebellion.

“Damnit, don’t gape at me.” I snarl a bit. I can feel my indignation running wild, through a pounding chest and through my mindless mouth.

“Sit up.”

He does, silently. I’m grateful.

“Take this off.”

I gesture to his shirt. He does this, too.

I come around with a cloth. Staring down at him, I survey the image—he’s bleeding out. Quickly, at that. He messed up his stomach wound considerably. His toned stomach is scaled with blood, a red, filthy gash on his left side. My heartbeat chases a pounding rhythm. Holy shit: he might fucking die.

My inhibition snaps.

“Nevermind. Screw it. Lay against the headrest. Be careful, you damned fool.”

Usul groans as he backs into his bed. “I was told I was getting nursed, not chastised.” He seethes through a set of clamped teeth.

“Yes, well, you managed to ruin your binding. I can see it took an incredible amount of effort, too.” I climb into the bed. Barring off any uncomfortable undertones, I crawl towards him.

“Yet I also don’t need a fucking coach right now, Leila. I need a medic.” I feel his hot breath lingering in the air near; I snap my face towards his. His gaze is unwavering, and I can see his studying gaze, his brow twitching calculatingly.

I’m a frazzled mess—I can tell as my eyes twitch that’s it’s painfully obvious.

I flinch suddenly. My gaze wanders, and I find warm, masculine digits consuming mine.

“You need to stop shaking, damnit.”

His quiet yet pregnant words resonate with me and into my weak, distressed body. I fall still. With his palm against my aching fingers, I find the quickest respite.

“Focus. I will not die.”

“Did you prophesize that, hm?”

“No. I trust you.”

My eyes flutter shut. I inhale a tremulous breath. He’s right—I can’t work in my state right now. But if I want to do as much as merely stopping the bleeding, I’ll have to shift my attitude. Swiftly.

My mind doesn’t dare wander towards Chani. It would be custom for me to turn to her for strength, but the mental image of her mainly brings about animosity. Instead, I focus here, now—on Usul’s palpable heat, in his hands and in the heavy scent of his presence.

I take a moment. A moment, quietly finding my peace and my lost, inner instinct.

After many prolonged breaths, I sit up.

And I get to work.

“This is going to hurt. You might want to lay down.”

Silently, he obeys me.

My skills succumb to my mind. I work intensely—I dab the cloth into his thick blood, which stains his alabaster skin. As I work, a few meager thoughts roam my mind: I doubt no Fremen wouldn’t pay their wage for a touch of his blood, I ponder. Being so intimate with his mortality brings everything into scope; Usul has a power only rivaled by Emperors, Kings, and Queens, however any hit can be fatal. Without Paul, the Fremen lose their symbol and their incentive. But, well, no pressure.

On the other hand, I’m notably grateful for his compliance. And I’m even further impressed with his determination too, in refusing to speak a single word nor a mere sound. As I uncover my own tenets, and I come out of Chani’s shadow, I’m starting to realize.. my favor isn’t entirely for Chani.

A bowl of water arrives with a nurse. Thanking her and sending her off, I near Usul again.

“Does this have to do with Chani?”

As I begin to clean his wound, I talk pointedly, inquiry woven into my tone.

His voice comes eventually, but he groans when I pour the sacred water directly onto his gash. His bony fingers twitch and attach onto the mattress, grasping lightly.

“-Did she tell you anything?” He utters begrudgingly.

“Mhm.” I answer.

“Is that why you’re in a mood?”

Water pools onto his stomach, which is hard with muscles, rising and falling with his trained breaths. It slips onto the bed, wetting it gradually by the second.

“I questioned you first.” I demand.

I can smell his eyes rolling a mile away.

“Yes. I attempted .. reaching her. She’s more stubborn now than I recall.”

I nod involuntarily. Stubborn was a nice word.

“So, you’re not her minion anymore?”

My focused brows shoot up. I drive my mien into his.

“Do you want me to screw up your wound?”

“Leila.”

Trickles and little indications of nerves meander through my body. I realize I’ve paused my work, and with a surge of purpose, I return.

“I don’t dislike the change. You’re finding yourself.”

I bite my gum. “So I have been a nobody until now?”

“No.”

I draw a cloth, lathered with soap around the borders of his wound. He mumbles something, maybe a curse, before speaking again.

“It’s gratifying to see you.. not so impressionable.”

I really do hate being timid and gullible sometimes. Thus, the reason Chani’s been such a magnetic force of my life. She has stiff, ardent opinions, and a defensive stance. Her caution keeps her ready to strike.

But I know this persona is who I am. Even now, with a callous expression discoloring my soft features, I understand—this isn’t me.

“Well, I can’t take care of you forever.” I speak with disdain, brushing away my probing thoughts. “Whatever you do in your pastime isn’t my business, but if you manage to break through this dressing a second time, for whatever reason, I’m getting another nurse to manage your carelessness.”

I hear a smile. “Yes ma’am.”

“Do you know what it is to be a nurse?” I begin. “No. You fight, and you thrust your blade at any living thing. We clean up. We witness the rubble of war, and we tend to the malignant products of violence.” I set the now empty bowl aside, my eyes cast far into the monochrome walls.

“You can’t afford to be careless. You’re the Messiah, Usul. And I surely cannot, either. I mess up, and you’re blood’s on my hands.” I pause. “In this very moment, we’re linked—so I just want you to do your part, as I do mine.”

“So I’m the source of your ire.”

My face scrunches into a frazzled frustration. “Did you hear anything I just said?

“I won’t mess up again. You can trust me.” I rest there, sitting above his body as my fingers dress his wound with ointment, a stone-cold countenance on my face. “What bothers you?”

I bite my gum grimly. “Don’t provoke me.”

“But if you keep your anger confined, what else might invoke it?”

“This isn’t the time for this, Usul.”

“-Paul.”

My fingers halt, propped against his warm skin as I meet eyes with Usul.

“What?”

“I would rather you call me Paul.”

I search my mind. Does anyone other than Chani call him Paul? His mother, of course. And Gurney, obviously. But the list drags to a stop there.

Is he marking the enhancement of our friendship? Maybe he’s egging me into transferring information. Altogether, it puzzles me.

Alas, I disregard my selfish thoughts. It’s foolish of me to pleasure myself with the thought that I might mean something special to the Lisan Al-Gaib. Sighing, I rise from my position.

“Okay, Paul.”

I turn to the table at my flank, taking up a pristine, fresh sheet of dressing into my hands. “Sit up against the headrest. ..Please.”

He does so without complaint once again. I approach him apprehensively. The silence is disarming. I can feel his gaze on me like a cool, unshakeable breeze.

As I begin my work, I succumb to his request.

“Counsel-Member Sarat has been my patient for the past week.” I swallow my shame while my fingers press into Paul’s stomach, attaching the covering gingerly. “He died today. Of infection. And .. and the counsel thought it fit for me to be demoted from my position as head nurse since, inherently, the war has ‘dulled my senses and muted my skills’. They’re rather unyielding in their blame, which they’ve..” I laugh dully. “..brutally pinned on me.”

“They’ve stripped you of your title as head nurse?”

“Mhm.” I confirm gently. It feels that, if I speak a decibel louder, I might crackle and fall apart.

“Give me an hour; I’ll give you your title back.”

“..Paul, it is not your place.” I tell him with warning eyes.

“What do you mean? Why not?”

“I-“ I grunt out an intermittent groan. “Do you really care if I’m head nurse or not?”

“You’re the best in your field. I’ve seen it, I witness it this very moment. Ignorance runs through the council, it’s rather obvious.”

If my complexion warrants it, I blush. I haven’t heard kudos of such high acclaim of late, or.. ever, perhaps. Hardness and disdain may have encrusted my heart, but his words seem to chip at the layers with ease.

“Just, don’t act yet.” I say carefully. “Today has been enough for me. A prolonged night of sleep might just be enough to relieve me of this stress.”

I apply one last morsel of pressure into his side with my palm, scrutinizing the dressing. Immediately, the strings of responsibility lay off of my shoulders. He’s alive, breathing, and his stomach is marked by white linen rather than the thick, maroon tints of his precious blood.

“And you. Our deal?”

I look for understanding in his face, yet I’m met with gentle confusion. I roll my eyes.

“Take care of yourself. Don’t fuck your wounds up, and I don’t have to stress about you.”

“Mmm, because you care so much about me?”

He says this blandly and with a husky tone. I chuckle, falling cocky. “You know what I mean-“

Something warming creeps up my waist. My eyes drawn to the sensation, I look down to see Paul’s hand at my side.

I lift my head. I’m met with his eyes—blue and slitted, brushed by the shadow of the dim light at the end of the spacious room. The cold throb of the air suddenly becomes terribly tangible.

Suddenly, I know. As he holds my gaze, as he holds me, I know. Every stalking thought of my intuition was valid—the prickles of tension were never figments of my wild imagination. That look, that look of his is polluted with infatuation.

I press myself away from him. “What is—what are you-”

“Just stop, Leila.”

His fingers dig a little into my skin. Suddenly, my walls are up. My shoulders surrender to stiffness; my breath refuses to release.

He leans in closer, stealing meager inches of the mattress.

“Isn’t it easier this way? We’re both stressed out of our minds, it hurts, I know. I can relieve you of your pressure, Leila-“

“You jest!”

I push him away with incredulous palms. This shocks me just as much as it does him.

“Chani. We both care for her—is this what you imply?! For two of her loved ones to betray her in one night?-”

“What is there to betray?!”

With a quickness I’m unable to fathom, we are then a mess of limbs; his legs have crawled forth and are propped onto mine, his arm bridging the distance, deft fingers bordering the brink of my neck and shoulder.

Not a wisp of breath sprouts from inside of me.

“She is frustrating. I know you’re angry with her, with how you so unabashedly project. You’re awfully transparent.”

“You are a cocky bastard.”

“Mm.”

Paul tilts his head, as if saying ‘see?’. I stifle a curse from spilling out, off my flaring tongue.

Warmth spreads like wildfire at my hip, as his left hand claims its spot. The thumb of his right ventures over my jaw and to my cheek, while his remaining digits curl around my neck. I repress a shudder, as well as a susurration at my mouth—one that would surely betray me.

“Don’t you see?” He says it so low, his voice crackles in its sudden baritone as he speaks. “Let me take care of you.”

My eyes flutter shut. My mouth gapes slightly; he leans closer and closer.

“You are Chani’s. Chani is yours.”

“You know that's not true.”

My breath trembles audibly. I can hear it in the thick air.

“Why don’t you act on your own desires?”

“How arrogant do you have to be? I do not desire one morsel of you-“

“Ah, I’ve yet to see you pull back.”

My lashes flutter, opening my eyes so that I can witness a peek of the image in front of me: he breathes me in like oxygen, as if he might suffocate any moment. I can see two slits of blue, their light dawning on me and onto the amalgamation of our intimate shadows.

“I'm afraid I know you better than you know yourself, Leila..”

I breathe in, desperately attempting to sort out my visceral thoughts. Maybe a mere moment of preparation, maybe just a little time ..

Yet he denies it. I breathe in, and Paul Atreides has ensnared me with his lips.

The power he has over me is, in itself, terrifying. I mold underneath his touch, every contiguity setting my skin aflame. Paul kisses like a savage—as we sway, his tongue slithering hungrily between my lips, our mouths a battle of uncertainty and voracity, I see him in a different light. The stiff, self-controlled, solemn boy stripped of his armor is revealed to be an animal, just like any other man.

He must be stressed out of his mind. His movement is desperate, his lips feral. His body snakes over me as my hands brush against his skin—each finger passing a rib one by one, drinking in his warmth. Skin of the Messiah.

Even if I refuse to merge with the Fremens’ united belief, I understand well, with awe and terror, Paul’s title and his power. It chills me, through flesh and into the cavern of my soul: I contact the armor of a royally begotten warrior, and I am all the same groped by the hands of a mighty killer.

Chani. Chani. Chani.

I miserably try to redirect my focus. It shocks me how insanely hungry I am for him—it never occurred to me that I had affection for Paul, but my desire flows copiously. I think back on Chani. I attempt to meditate and recall their love and what strife I’m paving.

And yet my body betrays me, These thoughts, even further, backfire.

I am angry. I am tired, and worn from Chani’s groping. The circumstance is rousing something in me—a beast of a feeling, a pit of animosity. Without caution, I shove Paul into the headrest.

“Stay still.”

I climb onto him. I look down, and find his glimmering blue eyes consumed with startled shock.

“Don’t you care about your wounds at all?”

I kiss him. I trap him against the head of the mattress, letting my hands run wild. With his waist bearing my weight, I begin to steadily ride his crotch.

Paul isn’t mine. In a perverse way, this motivates me further—he could be using me as a channel of relief or as a source for his irate, and he might even be infatuated with me. Yet once I’m immersed in my drive, and I’ve established a tantalizing pace to bounce over and over on his hard-on, I realize: I don’t really care. I want this, and I’ll take my goddamn share.

#paul atreides #paul atreides smut #dune part two #dune #timothée chalamet #Paul Atreides fanfic #Paul Atreides fanfiction #dune fanfiction #Paul Atreides x oc #fanfiction #oneshot

[sebstan2020]

Repaying The Debt

Chapter 3

Violet Williams, a typical rich daddy's girl who did nothing but spend his money and hang our with her girlfriends. Her life couldn't be better. But that all changes when her father gets in trouble with New Yorks biggest and most ruthless mob boss, James Barnes and she finds herself repaying the debt of her father.

James paced around in his office, his phone glued to his ear and his other hand buried deep in his pocket. His crisp, black, polished shoes scuffed the carpet slightly as he paced, listening to the never-ending ring on the other end. His patient's skin was slowly getting thinner the longer it went on. Finally, a voice replied to him, shaky and nervous, and he instantly smirked.

John Williams had a right to be nervous. His daughter has just been kidnapped, and he is in a whole lot of trouble. It didn't take much for James to put fear in someone, and John certainly was fearing for not only his life but also Violet's. He knew this would happen sooner or later; James had warned him so many times, and yet he carried on thinking he was the big dog; he was going to come out on top because he works for the government and he can get whatever he wants. He clearly didn't know the full extent of James Barnes's power.

"John, finally decided to pick up," James slightly grumbled as he took a seat on the plush sofa to the side of the office. His office was huge, with dim lighting creating a dark atmosphere and tension in the air. His rich colony flooded the room, giving off power and seduction. The fine pieces of furniture blended in with the colours of dark magohany and burgandy, with the gold accents adding a touch of class. James folded his long leg over the other, his hand resting on his knee, the glint of his ring from the sutble lights.

He was a man of money, power, and dominance. a man who could get anything he wanted with but a look of his eyes. Growing up in the family business, he always knew he wanted to be on top, in control, and have power over something as big as a city. Now he had it. passed down from his father, he earned the right to call himself the most dangerous man in New York. No one dared to cross him, not even the police. Like he said, they work for him. All they care about is a couple of extra bucks here and there, and he'd happily throw them a wad of cash to cover up their illegal doings. His power in this city was no match for anything else.

people feared by just by name. You wouldn't want to get into business with a man like James unless you knew what you were doing, and most people didn't. He had to set an example for himself. If people didn't take him seriously, they would walk all over him like a piece of gum stuck to the floor, constantly being trudded on without a care. No, he wasn't going to let that happen, not on his watch. He could pretty much get away with anything—murder, assault, smuggling, you name it. There was nothing James Barnes couldn't do.

Kidnapping daughters from fathers who don't pay him back on time was another one. It was a fair deal. Until he was paid back in full, he needed some leverage and something to give some motivation to this waste of space people call a congressman, and what better than for it to be his daughter? Something he would take seriously. It wasn't the first time he had done it.

Leila was her name. She was a sweet old thing, young, beautiful, shy, and a Christian by heart. She never did a bad thing in her entire life. She was unfortunate to have a drunk father with an addiction to pills. With only a small-paying job at a gas station, he barely earned enough for them to stay afloat, so he turned his troubles to James, hoping for a small loan to get them by. Of course, he wasted the entire amount on booze and drugs, and yet his sweet, loving daughter would go home every night and tuck him into bed while he was passed out, normally in a pile of his own vomit, and would say a little prayer for Daddy. In James's eyes, he was doing her a favour.

Nonetheless, a deal had been made and was broken, and James wasn't going to let him get away with it. If he truly cared about his daughter, he'd shape himself up and stop wasting his life on feeling high every night. It took nine months for the guy to pay him back in full, and he released her back into society, though, in his opinion, she would have been better off staying with him than going back to that drunk. But he kept his promise.

He could hear the husky breath of John on the other end, pacing back and forth and running a shaky hand through his greasy hair as big bags were looming under his eyes. It didn't take long for word to travel to him that his daughter had been kidnapped, and he wasn't a complete idiot; he knew it was from the hands of James Barnes; who else would it be?

"Is she okay?" he asked, and James chuckled. Of course, they always make demands.

"She's fine, and she will continue to be fine as long as you get me my money," James said simply. It couldn't be more simple than that. Get him the money, and his daughter will be free to go.

"Look, I don't have it all right now," John said in a fluster, and James rolled his eyes. Of course he didn't; this man was useless. How he ever got into government james would never be known.

"I'm happy to take monthly payments... but you know, the longer it takes to pay me back, the more I'll keep adding on," he threatened, and John sighed.

"Please, just give me so much time and i-ll-.".

"I've already given you plenty of time, John. What do you think I am? I told you from the start that you had six months to pay me back; otherwise, I'll be taking something as collateral," James argued, his frustration growing with every second of having to talk to this stupid fucker.

"Yes, I know, but I haven't been able to get it; money is tight at the moment with the government.".

"I really don't give a fuck about you, the government, or how tight your money is, John. You entered into an agreement with me, signed it, and now you're going to pay the consequences.".

John went silent, and James was pleased. It sounded like he was actually starting to listen to James now and take this seriously.

"You know who I am, right? I could have the FBI on you in minutes if I wanted to," Kohn tried to threaten, and James replied with a laugh, throwing his head back and shaking his head.

"You think the FBI is going to stop me? I'm sure you wouldn't want the rest of your team to know what a sleeze you are. I'm sure they wouldn't want to know that their fellow congressman was blowing their money away on strippers and losing at poker. Let's not play this game, John; don't be a fucking moron. and I'm sure you wouldn't want your daughter to know what kind of person you are.".

John went silent, and he took a shaky breath. james smirked. James had him wrapped around his finger, and he was enjoying it.

"Just please don't hurt her," she whimpered.

"As long as she behaves herself, I have to say you have a very fiesty daughter, not what I was expecting, and she's very beautiful." John groaned on the other end, wanting to come up there and punch him square in the face. James could tell he was getting riled up, and he chuckled evilly.

"I want the first payment at the end of this month. I'll send my guys round if you want to do cash; otherwise, you know what to do," and with that, he hung up the phone, dropping it on his leg.

This was going to be interesting. He imagined his daughter to be very shy, sweet, and kind, and from the small amount of time he had spent with her, he had come to learn she really was just a spoiled brat. Looking through her bag, purse, and phone, she led nothing but a life of shopping, spending money, and doing nothing. She certainly had an attitude about her, which he slightly enjoyed playing with. In fact, he imagined he could have a lot of fun with her.

Growing up the way he did, his parents taught him that things were to be earned. money was to be earned. Granted, his money came from smuggling drugs and weapons and lending out loans, but he still earned that money through work. Violet earned her money by asking her dad for it and spending it in seconds. She certainly could teach her a thing about earning.

James was a man who liked to be in control—in control of women, to be exact. He got off on the thought of taking charge and control, ordering them what to do, and having them serve him from their knees as if he were their master. If they misbehaved, then they would be punished. If they behaved, then they would be rewarded. He'd never let a woman take control of him; there's no way in hell.

And yet something inside him was trying to teach that little brat a few manners, a few pleases, and thank you, sir, to respect those around her. Yes, he could tell this was going to be an interesting one. It won’t be long until she kicks up a fuss down there in her little room, kicking and screaming to be released.

If there was one thing about James, it was that he would never give in. She could kick and scream and beg and plead for all she wanted, and he still turned around and said no. If she thought she was going to have any control in this situation, then she was dead wrong. He was in full control, and she was going to have to learn that.

Chapter 4

Hey I hope you like this chapter, let me know what you think in the comments

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[two-white-butterflies]

coaxed you into paradise - c. 6

Description: The life of Saera Targaryen told in four acts. She was her father's forgotten daughter, cast aside as she looked nothing like her mother. Her younger days were spent beside her uncle. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her older sister. She returns to seek solace in the arms of her uncle, that she's loved all her life.

(Coaxed You Into Paradise and High Infidelity Rewrite.)

masterlist for this series

Chapter Six: Morning Glory

Leila Lannister cursed silently while wrapping a bandage around her husband’s forearm. He found it wise to go hunting, not taking into consideration - his lack of expertise. “The next time you go hunting, bring someone that knows what they’re doing.” she scolded, finishing her job. 

“Otto knows what he was doing, I was a little clumsy - that’s all.” he defended, attempting to move his arm but Leila held it in place. “He’s the clever one of us both, anyways.” Lancel finished, rising to his feet. Leila’s eyes darkened. 

“He’s not clever, Lancel - you’re just dumb.” she insulted. A knock prevents their fight from escalating further. A handmaiden enters the room - bearing the Hand’s sigil. The woman bows and stares at the man. 

“The Hand calls for you, my lord.” the woman informs. 

— 

The man takes a deep breath, reaching the top of the tower. Otto opens the door, making haste with his revelation. “There’s something you need to know. Something that might elevate our power in court.” the younger brother informs and Lancel’s eyes brighten at the thought of being powerful. 

“If it is about your plan in making your daughter Queen -  I couldn’t care less.” Lancel rolls his eyes, quick to reach for the goblet of wine on top of the table. 

“It is about your mortal enemy - Prince Daemon.” Otto reveals, and his brother turns around in intrigue. He’s been working for decades to get rid of Daemon - and now the lock to his vengeance, finally has a key. “What is it?” he was quick to ask, but Otto had a conspiracy of his own. 

Otto takes a step forward, easily manipulating his older brother. “I will tell you under two conditions.” he levied, filling his goblet with red wine. “Anything, if it means getting rid of him.” Lancel rasped, clenching his cup tightly. 

“You will help me in my efforts in making Alicent, Queen - and you will be the one to tell the King about his brother’s misdemeanor.” Otto dealt and his brother nodded his head. Lancel lifted his hand, “Go ahead.” 

“A few nights ago, my informants told me that Prince Daemon was in Flea-Bottom - attempting to bed his niece, Saera. When he failed to do so, he returned the Princess and went back to that rat-hole - where he made an ill-jest about Aemma and Prince Daegon.” Otto informed, his lips were pressed into a thin line. It was a white lie. It was half-true and half-false. 

Prince Daemon did attempt to bed his niece, but he didn’t make that jest about his nephew. Viserys might not send Daemon away after his attempt with Saera, but the King will definitely exile him after the alleged joke. 

Lancel bit back a smile. “What jest?” he questioned, planning to tell the King right away - the staircase be damned. “Heir for a day. He called Prince Daegon an heir for a day.” Otto answered in a rehearsed tone. “But you didn’t hear it from me.” he lowered his head. 

“Of course not, thank you brother.” Lancel smirked, quickly fleeing. 

—

She was staring at her reflection. Trying to ease her mind off the words of the other ladies at court. They were mostly old and about to die - yet they found it in themselves to talk about her beauty. They say that she was beautiful - but her sister was more beautiful - that her personality was dull and unlikable. 

Her hair was a darker shade than Rhaenyra. Her lips were pale and pink. Her cheeks needed a little rouge to stand out. Was she as special as her uncle believed? Or was it an illusion because he loved her? 

Daemon entered her chambers, but she didn’t notice him - not until his arms were wrapped around her shoulders, his lips were pressing kisses on her neck. “Daemon.” her voice came out like a prayer. “Saera,” he replied with the same dedication as the first time he said her name. 

“You left - the ladies were wondering where you fled off to.” he mumbled, pressing more kisses on her neck - down to her collarbone. Her hair was dripping wet - her skin was still cold from the bath. “Shouldn’t they be looking for Rhaenyra? They love her more anyways,” she huffed while placing the Valyrian necklace on her neck. 

“Hey,” he began, squeezing his body - so that they were both sitting on the vanity chair. “I was able to hear what they were talking about - they’re all fucking cunts, my love. They don’t know anything about real beauty,” he comforted, reaching for the hairbrush on the desk. 

He played with her silver tresses, carefully untangling her hair. “Don’t say that - there is no need to compare,” she said to herself, eyes meeting his. His lips turned upwards - finding joy in her kindness. “Of course.” he cooed, hands trailing down to her face - wetting her cheeks with the water from her hair. 

“You are the comeliest maiden in all the seven-kingdoms. The ladies can say what they want - it does not matter. Dragons do not listen to sheep.” he whispered, wrapping his hands around her jaw - pulling her face closer until they were about to kiss. 

Someone clears their throat from behind Saera. 

“Father,” she stood up - staring at him with wide eyes. “Brother,” Daemon acknowledged, finding his place beside his lover. “The accusations are true then?” Viserys inquired, and the air suddenly turned crisp and thick. 

Daemon places a hand in-front of Saera, protecting her from what he perceived as harm. “We love each other, brother.” he defended, tugging her to be placed behind him. “Your grace - that is how you will address me.” Viserys demanded, feeling blood surge through his veins. 

The dragon was awake, protecting his own. 

“We were about to tell you, your grace.” Daemon repeats, not taking his eyes off his brother - nor his hand on his niece’s arm. “Is your need for the throne that wanton? You seduced my daughter and mocked my wife.” Viserys accused, eyes darkening with every second. 

“Mocked? Kepus has done nothing but support us, father. He would never do that to my mother - who he has treated like a sister.” Saera replied, offended by her father’s notions. “Heir for a day, isn’t it? He must’ve found it hilarious - and so did his whores.” Viserys shunned, and a kingsguard entered the chamber. 

Viserys’ eyes darkened at the same time Saera’s faltered. “Whores?” she asked, exchanging a glance with Daemon. Her uncle shook his head - denying his brother’s claims. 

“You do not know Daemon as much as I do. I know that he has promised to wed you - but there are things greater than him.” he explained as one of the guards attempted to walk towards Daemon. 

“Father, what is the meaning of this?” she grimaced, feeling her uncle reach for the Dark Sister.

“Do not give everything to him. He will only discard you, as he’s done to his wife.” Viserys gritted his teeth as more guards entered the room. He walked towards his daughter, pulling him away from Daemon - prompting more guards to overwhelm the Rogue Prince. 

Daemon couldn’t swing his sword - as these were his men. The new recruits of the gold-cloaks. His eyes darkened, seeing a new sigil on their chest. House Strong’s sigil - no more of his gold and white dragon. 

“Saera!” he yelled amidst the chaos, seeing only a wisp of her wet-silver hair.

“I will return.” he promised, as she was hauled out of the room. 

—

In his decades of living, Daemon has never stepped foot inside of the dungeons. They were dirty and nasty, there was a strange foul smell coming from the sewers - and he wasn’t the one to complain about the scent. It was foul, the smell of rotting flesh. 

He’s been kept here for three-days. His clothes were tattered, bruised and wet. He hadn't taken a bath - and he was aware that he smelled like shit. A soldier of the gold-cloaks stumbled upon his cell. “My lord,” the man whispered, trying to avoid the guards that were stationed around the dungeon. 

Daemon turned his head to the source of the noise - but he couldn’t see anything due to the blindfold blocking his eyesight. “Rusca? Is that you?” He did his best to decipher the voice. “Lower your voice, my lord, I’m not supposed to be here.” the man leaned closer, hands gripping the grease-stained bars. 

“I-I heard them talking about a compromise for you. I mean - the king doesn’t plan on making you stay here for long.” the man stuttered, keeping an eye out for roaming guards. “Fuck compromise.” he cursed while turning his body away. Compromise was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t have to answer to a crime that he didn’t commit. 

“There’s another way, but - none of the gold cloaks want you to pursue that.” he mumbled, his grip tightened around the bars - grease coating his hands black and brown. It was a choice that he knew his lord would agree to. It wasn’t a compromise, or a condition - it was a way to get out of King's Landing with his honor and reputation intact. 

“What is it?” Daemon asked, his mind drifting off to Saera. 

Did she believe their lies? Or was she waiting for him? 

“You will fight the war in the Stepstones –” 

“I will do it.” 

“My lord, you will waste your life there. The crabfeeder has taken hold of the island, the King does not plan to send more men. If you fight that war, the chances of your return are slim.” Rusca whispered, not wanting such fate for his liege. The gold cloaks were his creation. All that they did - depended upon him. 

Daemon’s absence would weaken them - and in turn, weaken the kingdom. 

“How is Princess Saera?” he asked, ignoring the man’s question. The answers would come in due time - but not right now. Not when he couldn’t see anything from that fucking blindfold. “She is kept in her chambers. According to Ser Criston, she doesn’t believe the accusations. She is still in mourning, my lord. She is weakened and in need of you. Please, settle on a compromise.” Rusca begged but there was no changing Daemon’s mind. 

“You and Mysaria will protect her while I go to war - tell her that I will return. I will honor my promises. But I cannot do that with the stains of lechery on my hands. Tell her that the accusations are mere accusations. I would never do that to Aemma or Daegon.” he taught, hearing footsteps above him. 

“Leave now. They are coming.” he added, and the man swiftly ran away. 

next chapter>>

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[becauseicantdecide]

The Harder They Fall

Aemond Targaryen x Reader x Aegon II Targaryen

Warnings: Non-Con/Dub-Con, Smut, Oral (F receiving), Knife Kink, Spitting Kink, Biting Kink, Enemies to Lovers.

Summary: Aemond and Aegon both yearn for their mother's approval. It angers them when she immediately meets and favours the Princess of Dorne. They come up with a plan that ensures their mother never says your name out loud again.

Dedicated to @pluvialpoet, @bitch-biblioklept

Merry Christmas 😘😘

"I wish she'd choke on that olive and die." Aegon utters viscously.

From his spot beside his brother, Aemond almost spits his mead. If he was a man with any less self control, he might have laughed.

Instead, he turns to where his brother is watching sourly, to his mother, talking animatedly with the Princess of Dorne.

He can't deny your beauty, though he may hate you with every fiber of his being, he cannot deny that dornish dress was made for you, that your expanse of exposed skin and well done hair is anything other than breathtaking.

It's a shame that he indeed, also wanted to squeeze the breath out of you.

"Mother lets her get away with too much," Aegon continues, breaking into his brother's thoughts, "She tried to suggest to me how I should ride my own dragon."

Aemond raises a precarious eyebrow in shock and amusement.

"The worst part is the fucking bitch was right."

You were truly, proof that the gods had a sense of humour. Why else would they send someone so blood- boiling and so beautiful?

Though Aemond doesn't supply any verbal agreement of his dislike for you, he acknowledges it silently. He ached to wipe that smug smile from your face.

~~~

You liked to torment, and the Princes of the seven kingdoms had made themselves easy targets.

Like now, Alicent had promised you her younger son would accompany you through the shopping districts of King's Landing, and you were having a fun time reminding him at every moment that he'd been lent out like a hired sword.

You stayed beside him, looking up with triumphant smiles as he looked needlessly bored.

"What do you think of this colour?" You say, raising a light blue fabric to your face so that Aemond could compare them.

The Targaryen simply sighs, doesn't glance at you and turns away.

You pout.

"You're not being a very good help, Prince Aemond." You say, walking around to stand in front of him. Under his eye twitches once in annoyance.

"Ah, perhaps the import of wine and rare fruits are not as important to the Royal Family as I thought." You say in sorrow, turning away, only to grin when you feel Prince Aemond grip your upper arm to pull you back.

"Is that a threat, Princess Martell?"

"Gracious no!" You exaggerate with a smile, "I'm simply pointing out that Dorne's supplies can't be that important with the way you treat me."

You think you could hear his teeth crack with the frustration.

A shiver of pleasure floats down your spine.

Finally, he looks at the fabric in your hand.

"I hate it." He says finally, releasing your arm.

You hum in appreciation, putting it back.

"What is your favourite colour?" You ask, moving to keep up with his lengthy strides, shaking your head politely when someone tries to beckon you into their shop.

Again, he doesn't respond.

"Prince Aemond-"

"-Princess Martell." He says in a clipped tone, stopping to turn to you, "I am just a protective hand. If you require an opinion, I suggest you ask your ladies in waiting. It is their purpose."

Oh, you loved playing games.

You keep your eyes on his, wondering what's under his eyepatch.

"Leila," you call to one of your ladies' maids, you hear her step forward expectantly, ready to assist.

You don't stop looking at Aemond.

"Can you inquire as to the Prince's favourite colour?"

If only looks could kill.

There's a moment before Leila decides to open her mouth to speak on your behalf.

"Pardon me, my Prince-"

Aemond cuts her off with a look.

Pushed too far, he turns, and leaves you in the streets, disappearing into the crowds before you can say another word. You admire the sway of his hair as he walks away.

~

Aemond wasn't surprised that you'd told his mother. Sitting in his room, staring out at King's Landing, he's not fazed by his mother's sudden intrusion.

"I can't believe you," she starts, "the Martell house is a well respected and important family, the least you could do is treat her accordingly."

"You're lucky I didn't kill her." He says easily, studying the people below. Her silence speaks volumes.

"I had sought to make a match of you two, but maybe I should spare her the trouble." Alicent informs.

Aemond swivels on his mother.

"You would wed me to that spoiled brat?" He asks in disbelief.

"She is nothing of the sort!" Alicent's voice heightens as she approaches, "She is kind, and well learned and incredibly creative and if you could see that you would-"

"-Never. I would never." He spends a moment deep in thought before quietly asking, "Why do you like her so much?"

Alicent moves to his side, tucking her hand under his chin to tilt his head up from where he's sitting. He allows it to happen, because this is his mother, his blood.

She looks at him, Aemond watches some type of sorrow move over the planes of her face.

"I think she could love you. Aegon- has been forced to marry for duty, and you get the chance to marry for something else."

Aemond rolls his eye.

"I would have been happier marrying for duty." He responds.

Her grip on his jaw tightens.

"Consider it your duty to me then."

"I'll think about it." He appeases. He'd already thought about it. He would marry you when hell freezes.

~~~~

Aegon was not faring any better with you.

He'd been having his merry time with a serving maid when you'd walked into the small nook they'd been hidden in.

You'd cleared your throat, and the maid- whose name he couldn't care to remember- had slipped away and ran past you with a rushed excuse.

An annoyed sigh slips past his mouth, looking at you with droll irritation.

You didn't even flinch, smiling at him when he approached you to walk past.

"Can I ask, Prince Aegon," you blurt, humour deepening when he pauses to give you an annoyed glance, "Have you ever been with a willing woman?"

The silence is both amusing and poisonous.

You don't expect it, but it doesn't surprise you when he grips your shoulder tightly, slamming you into the same wall he'd had the other maiden pressed against.

"Do you have any idea who I am?" He growl, leaning into your space, till your breaths intermingle, "I am a Prince of the seven kingdoms and you will not speak to me as if I am your equal." He hisses, and not for the first time, the anger in his violet eyes stirs something delightful within you.

You soften your voice, tilting your head up and continuing to meet his eyes in an attempt to look more alluring.

"I meant no disrespect, Your Highness, but there's only so many times you can have your cock sucked by an inexperienced, unwilling woman before it gets boring."

He moves a hand from pinning your shoulder to the wall to wrap his fingers around your throat. Your eyes flutter with the pleasure it brings.

"Perhaps I like my women unwilling and inexperienced."

"A shame," you hit back, "When the opposite could incite pleasure you've only ever dreamed of."

His fingers tighten around your neck.

"Are you offering?" He asks, reducing his grip to allow you to speak.

"You wish." You respond, and before another word can be said, you're raising your hands to knock his away from your body, pushing him back to a respectable distance.

He hits the opposite wall with a muffled thud.

"I'll remind you, Prince Aegon, that I am a lady, and I am capable of removing your hands from your wrists should you touch me again without permission." You move to walk away, pausing in afterthought to turn back to him.

"So, have a nice day, Your Highness." You say, bowing your head respectfully, giving him a small smile, before backing away.

Aegon doesn't understand how he feels for hours after. On one hand, how dare you threaten him? On the other hand, why did it make him feel giddy on the inside?

He blames it on his mother.

~~~~~

He knows what's coming when Alicent storms into his room while he's taking a bath.

"You will not touch Princess Martell again, do you understand?"

Aegon huffs, wiggling his fingers in the warm water.

"It was harmless really, I can't believe she told you that."

"Except that she didn't tell me, the maid you'd been forcing yourself onto did."

Aegon can't help the smile that grows on his face.

Alicent leans forward angrily to dash water into the prince's eyes. He grunts in displeasure, wiping at his stinging eyes.

"I am trying to create a union between her and Aemond, I would appreciate if you would keep your filthy hands to yourself." Alicent hisses.

Aegon laughs long and hard.

"Aemond will kill her the second they are wed, mother, she is a nuisance- so- well- wait- I don't know what I'm saying, go right ahead and wed them." He smiles deviously.

She frowns, sighing, she leans against the bathtub, deep in thought.

Awkwardly, Aegon looks down at his cock, thinking that having his mother here did not inspire the debauched activities he was hoping to get along with.

"Why do you both dislike her? She is exactly the type of person I'd hoped for."

Which was the entire premise of the problem. That you had walked into the castle and earned the favour of the Queen, affection her sons could never hope to attain.

What could Aegon say? That he despised you because she loved you? The words would only get him slapped harder.

Instead, a dangerous idea rears its head. One so dark and twisted that the very thought of it had probably damned his soul.

He waits until dinner, to speak it aloud to the only other Targaryen who understands.

~

You sit at the opposite end of the table, clothed in emerald green. A colour that emphasised the way Aegon and Aemond felt about you.

Aemond hated the way the jewels sat on your skin, he wanted to cover them in your blood, slit your throat open and watch in satisfaction as you struggled to speak another word.

You laugh at something King Viserys says, and Aegon yearns to watch you cry.

Finally, he turns to his brother.

"Killing her is not enough. I want her very name tainted." Aegon whispers.

Aemond smiles at the thought.

"What do you have in mind?" He asks.

Aegon thinks for a minute.

"What's worse that getting her pregnant out of wedlock?" Aegon asks.

Aemond already has the answer prepared.

"Making her want it." Aemond supplies easily.

Aegon looks over at his brother in surprise.

"I don't know why I get called mother's worst child when you're more devious than me."

Aemond sips his mead, deep in thought.

"That's because you always get caught."

Aegon laughs.

~

You'd managed to ignore the princes tonight, having tormented them enough for the day, you only sit back and enjoy dinner peacefully.

You listen to the stories Alicent's father, Otto, weaves, and you smile along or laugh politely where necessary. You explain the landscape of Dorne when asked, and you tell them about some of the customs.

You leave out the customs you know they'd find appalling, they could never hope to understand the way Dorne holds the pleasures of the body as an important aspect of life. That you'd read books on pleasure enhancement alongside your history books when you were ready for it. Your virginity had only remained intact because of your status, as a formality to your future husband, should he be someone outside of Dorne. You knew that these people would never understand that. There was too much currency placed on a young woman's maidenhead for your liking.

You blink, refocusing, realising that your eyes have been locked onto Aegon's face the entire time. He smiles, leaning in to say something to his brother while still looking at you.

It makes you a little nervous. What could they possibly be talking about? No doubt some plot to get back at you.

You liked the idea more than you cared to admit. Aemond was gorgeous and calculating, Aegon made you burn with your desire for him. You shouldn't be thinking this way of either man.

When dinner is finished, you find your way to the library with a cup of ale. The place is almost empty at this time of night, and you enjoy the feeling of being alone and reading books by candlelight.

The words are funnier when you're inebriated, and you enjoy reading the thoughts of maesters who have clearly missed the points of the subjects they're speaking about.

When you hear the door to the library close and locks, you look up in surprise.

"Prince Aemond." You greet, standing, bowing your head in acknowledgement. When you notice his older brother behind him, you nod your head again, "Prince Aegon."

Both men look like they're up to no good.

"Princess Martell," Aegon says happily, "reading so late at night?"

"Uh, yes, I'm- actually I was just finishing up." You say, looking back at the books sitting on the table.

"Oh, there's no need, sit with us, we'd like to see what you're reading."

You don't get a chance to protest, finding yourself sitting on the wooden bench with Aemond on your left and Aegon on your right, both men closing you in.

"Is this yours?" Aegon asks, gripping the half filled cup of ale, taking a sip before you can open your mouth to affirm. He puts it down beside you, and you swallow when he leans closer.

You try to lean away but Aemond is a solid wall behind you, and you find that you can't move too far away from Aegon.

"Don't you hate when people don't know their place, Princess?" Aegon asks, and you swallow when he rests his warm hands on your knees. You don't push them off, not wanting to be disrespectful too soon.

"I'm not sure what you mean." You say softly.

"No? I can give an example." He sighs, smiling still, when you try to turn away from him, his fingers hold onto your knees harder to keep your attention.

"Aemond here is a Prince of the seven kingdoms. Third in line to the throne, rides the largest dragon in the world." Aegon's eyes illuminate with amusement, "Do you think he should act as a sellsword because the Princess of little shithole wills it so?"

You swallow, the level of trouble you're in finally sinks into your head.

"I only asked-"

"-You only asked," Aegon hisses, "and my mother agreed." He reaches up to grip your jaw, "What sway you must have on her, what influence."

You raise your hands to push him away, but before you can, Aemond has grabbed your wrists and pinned them behind you. You make a little sound of surprise, wiggling in an attempt to get out of his iron grip to no avail.

You turn your head to the side, taking your jaw out of Aegon's grip angrily.

"How dare you put your hands on me." You say lowly, struggling still in Aemond's grip, his breath in your ear, "Let me go."

Aegon laughs.

"It's time you learned, Princess, that you cannot have everything you want."

When Aegon kisses your collarbone, you gasp in surprise. He tugs your night dress a little lower so that he can trail his mouth from one clavicle to the other.

"Stop this, Aegon." You plead, trying to pull away from him.

"What's the matter, Princess?" Aemond whispers in your ear, your heart picking up its pace at the sound of his voice, "Don't like being taken advantage of?"

You whine.

"A little help, brother?" Aegon asks, and you feel Aemond's hand grip your jaw, turning your head.

You make a quiet sound of displeasure when Aegon presses his lips to yours. You try to shake both men off but it doesn't work.

Aegon laughs into your mouth, clearly enjoying your discomfort. Automatically, you begin to kiss back, trying to grab any semblance of control you have.

Aegon's lips are soft and plush, he's gentle and commanding with his mouth all at once. It's easy to get lost in it, to forget where you are when you have his tongue pressing into your mouth to trace over yours.

You hum in bliss, getting lost and enjoying it,  only being brought back into your body when Aemond laughs in your ear.

"She likes it." He says when Aegon breaks the kiss, "What a whore." Aemond teases.

Your mouth drops open, you begin to struggle in his grip once again.

"Let me go." You grunt, and you try to pretend that hearing both brothers laugh lowly at you doesn't bring on a spike of arousal.

Aegon's eyes devour you, roaming over your body. His tongue traces over his bottom lip, and you feel like nothing more that a feast for the prince.

"Aemond," he says, eyes still caught on your chest, "Your knife."

Fear squeezes your throat.

"No way," you breathe, beginning to struggle when Aemond pulls a knife from his belt and gives it, hilt forward to Aegon.

You're panting, swearing, wriggling, but Aemond's grip is too tight, and you can't seem to get away.

It doesn't take much for Aegon to rip the front of your dress open. You suck in a deep breath to scream and Aemond quickly claps a hand over your mouth. You grunt behind it as you feel your nipples pepple in response to the open air.

"Fuck." Aegon breathes, and you close your eyes shut to avoid the way he admires you.

The knife drops on the table, you whimper behind Aemond's hand when you feel his brother cup your breasts.

"She is... as magnificent as I thought she'd be." He whispers in reverence.

You jerk when he pinches one of your nipples gently.

You don't see his head dip, but the next thing you know, his tongue laves lazily over your breast.

You can't resist a muffled moan.

You give another shake of your shoulders, not trying as hard to escape Aemond's grip.

You can feel your toes curl in your shoes, Aegon is gentle and precise and you shiver at the feel of his hands and his tongue on your body.

When you can do nothing more than relax, Aemond takes the opportunity to tilt your head to the side so that he can meld his lips to yours too.

It's almost too much, one Prince licking over your breasts, swirling his tongue over your skin, the other, delving his tongue deep into the hollows of your mouth, redefining every thought in your head. Your eyes closed shut, trying not to enjoy the rapt attention you're being given.

Aegon pinches your nipples firmly and you gasp in pain, swiveling your head to meet his eyes in betrayal, but all he does is lean forward and capture your lips.

"You don't have to do this." You whisper, as Aemond kisses your throat and Aegon kisses your lips.

"I do, Princess. You give me no choice." Aegon answers and you don't get a chance to respond as you feel Aemond's teeth sink into the skin of your neck.

Your entire body shudders, with bliss you can't process, you shake violently, pressed between both men.

"I think the whore likes being marked." Aemond observes. You whimper in disagreement.

Aegon cups your cheek, leaning in so that he's almost hovering above you. You look up at him with pleading eyes, he tilts your head so that he can see the mark Aemond has placed on you.

"What will they think, Princess," Aegon tuts, "When they see you all marked up tomorrow? How quickly my mother will cast you out."

"N-no. Please-"

"If only you'd been nicer, less of a brat. Maybe we could have gotten along."

He turns your head back to face him.

"Open your mouth."

You frown, shaking your head.

"Aemond." He says, and you feel a hand on your jaw, squeezing tightly and you can't help the little sob that leaves your throat.

Aegon reaches for the cup of mead. He takes a long sip just as Aemond works your jaw open.

Aegon leans in, and you squeeze your eyes shut as he lets the mead from his mouth slip past his lips and into yours.

Aemond chuckles behind you, clamping your mouth shut, and covering your mouth and nose with his large hand in an attempt to force you to swallow.

You do, gasping for air when he takes his hand away, not liking the sound of their devilish laughter at all.

"I'm going to kill you both." You hiss.

It only makes them laugh more.

"Hear that, brother?" Aegon says, reaching to cup your breasts in both hands and press them together, "She just threatened us."

"I do believe that counts as treason." Aemond murmurs.

"To which the punishment is death, but I'm sure we can come to some arrangement, can't we, Princess?" Aegon follows, his fingertips tracing down your ribs.

He grips the material of your skirt in his hands, bunching it up until it sits on your waist. Though you wriggle, he puts his weight on your legs, stopping you from kicking him away.

He pulls at your undergarments, reaching for the knife to cut them away, you whine, trying to garner some pity.

Next, he's pulling at your legs, until you're lying on the bench, Aemond holds your hands above your head, your body situated between his spread thighs.

You try to kick at Aegon, worried that he's about to take your virginity, but all he does when he spreads your legs is look.

After a moment, he laughs.

"How wet you are, Princess." He praises, you gasp when his thumb swipes over your little bud.

He takes his time, which is way worse that him being rough, his thumb rubbing at your center, pleasure swimming through your senses, until your thoughts are muddled. You sigh, mewling when he leans down, kissing the tops of your thighs.

This wasn't something you were aware men outside of Dorne could do.

Aegon is soft, doesn't rush his kisses on your skin and you wished you could pull your skirts out of the way to get a proper look at him between your thighs.

You definitely stop struggling when he presses his tongue to your center. Your mouth parts in surprise. Was this supposed to be a punishment?

You look up at Aemond, who hovers above, looking down at you with something akin to amusement. You close your mouth, trying to mask the way you feel from him.

As if that was ever possible.

"How does she taste?" Aemond asks, and you burn with the way he talks about you like you're not in the room.

It takes Aegon a moment to raise his head from between your legs.

"Like nectar." Is all he says, burying his face in your cunt once more.

He licks you till you're trembling, his tongue dancing on your heated centre, your thighs wrapped around his head. The candles that you'd brought in with you have been significantly burned down, and you can only speculate that it's somewhere near midnight, and yet, Aegon keeps tasting you, drinking from your centre in an almost desperate manner that makes you want to moan.  You bite your lip so hard to stop from making any sound that you can almost taste the iron of your blood.

All the while, Aemond looks at you, his eyes devour every expanse of your skin and you think that his eyes alone is stimulating enough, but then he's reaching out, fingertips tentatively grazing your soft breast.

His touches grow more firm, and he's rolling one stiff nipple between his fingers before moving over to the next.

You whimper, kicking your legs in useless frustration. Aegon's tongue begins moving faster and you can't fight either brother and at this point you don't want to.

Your orgasm knocks the breath from your lungs, you feel your womb clench deliciously as pleasure swims through your system. You make pitiful noises of pleasure, hands in tight fists, trembling as both boys pause their torment.

After a moment, you feel your senses slowly begin to come back to you.

"The way you gush Princess," Aegon murmurs, eyes still locked on your center, "puts whores to shame."

A sad, needy sound leaves your lips. You can feel an indent on the inside of your lip where you'd been biting a little too forcefully.

"What do you think, Aemond?" The prince asks, "Has she been used well enough today?"

The man in question looks down at you, finally releasing his grip on your arms.

You don't move, confused at what they planned to do now. Would they take turns fucking you?

"I think she has." Aemond says, breaking you out of your desperate thoughts.

Before you can register anything, both Princes have stood, leaving the room with soft steps, closing the door behind them.

You sit up, confused and disgruntled and wondering what happened to make them stop. It takes you a moment before the horror of realisation overtakes you.

What had just happened?

.

.

#aegon ii targaryen x reader #aemond x reader x aegon #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #house of the dragon #aegon ii x reader #aegon targaryen #aemond targaryen #hotd #aegon ii targaryen smut #aemond targaryen smut

[artyandink]

Hello, could I request an Anthony Lockwood x reader where they both act like they are dating (pet names, sleeping in the same bed after Bad missions, just doing small affectionate things) but nothing is confirmed and then kipps asks reader out and lockwood steps in. At home they had a heated argument & confession and maybe make out?

LABELS AREN'T MEANT FOR US (YET)

Lockwood and I never like to put labels. They make everything definitive and unopen for interpretation. Amirite or amirite?

"Leila, love, it's 9 am." Lockwood himself reached out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear, making me giggle and slap his hand away. "So I take it you had a good sleep, then?"

"Just peachy, darling. You make me feel better after those bad missions." I grinned, and got a kiss on the forehead in return.

"Well, George may be making breakfast round about now, and you know how he is about timings."

"Oh, yes, the timings." I got out of bed, quickly combing my hair while he threw on the business clothes he wore that showed off his toned physique. The shirt did, and the jacket polished off the look.

"I swear, you two should be dating already." Lucy tutted. "Listen to fate, please."

"We don't put such labels on our relationship, Lucy, they're too definitive. Besides, Lockwood and I are friends." But I truly did want to be something more, yet I'd contradict my own words if I did. Oh, this world is too confusing.

"Exactly what Leilani said. Now, hop off to breakfast, we'll be down there in a minute." Lockwood cut in, saving me. I smiled at him, tucking the other strand of hair behind my ear and then twisted a strand of my raven-coloured hair around my finger and let it drop. "Absurd, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

George and Lucy kept pointing out things that set me and Lockwood apart from being normal couples. The way we look at each other, how we always work together, we light up in each others presence, the usual rom com malarkey. But we'd gotten into the habit of keeping our hands near each other, pinky fingers intertwined as if we'd float away if we'd let go. Nobody really knows why Lockwood and I are so close.

That is with the exception of the two concerned.

Long story long, Lockwood and I first made eye contact shortly after his parents died because he was put in the house next door. We'd go on playdates all the time, we trained together and even though he was a better fencing prodigy than I was, I supported him all the way. He was brilliant. Clever with his words as much as his brain, athletic yet packed with technique, the whole package. Then one fateful day he pitched the idea of an agency to me, and me being the reckless soul I was, I agreed, henceforth starting Lockwood and Co because it sounded better and cooler than Yaris and Co. I was there for him during the struggle of being orphaned at a young age and he was there for me when I lost mine to a car crash. We were as thick as thieves...

Even though every day I wanted to be more than that.

THAT VERY EVENING:

"Evening, Laila." Lockwood greeted, starting to write on the tablecloth.

"Hey, Lockwood. Figuring out the case of the Lipton Street wraith?"

"Yeah. I got a lot closer thanks to your clue."

“Yeah, what can I say, darling? I’m good at this stuff.” 

“I know, love, that’s why I ask you.” Our fingers intertwined, looking at each other for a second. I felt truly safe with Lockwood. I couldn’t explain it, really. All I could say about it was that he was like my only vice when things went wrong, the one to hold me after a bad case or the person who’d just protect me anyway, acting as a shield between me and the dangers out to get me. 

I remember the countless times he’d put himself in critical danger for me, jumping in front of an advancing ghost or distracting it when he had nowhere else to go. In that moment I felt it was the other way around, and I couldn’t help but rise to the occasion.  

“I’m going out to meet Flo later, at around 6. We’re going over the details of me acting as her intermediary.” He told me, and I nodded in response. Flo was our good friend. She was an amazing person as well, so no wonder she became the only relic girl in the world. 

“I’m going out with George at the same time. We’re grabbing pizza.” I informed, absentmindedly writing something down until I realised what it was. 

I love you, Anthony Lockwood.

I covered it up urgently, awaiting his reply. 

“Which pizza place are you going to?” 

“Pizza Hut.” 

“Enjoy your pizza.” 

“Enjoy your time being an intermediary.” 

“Why does that feel like you’re throwing intense shade on me?” 

“No!” 

“Come here, you little monkey!” I tried to run, but he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into his chest, starting to tickle my sides. 

“Please- no - Anthony - stop- please!” I giggled, breaking down into hysterical laughter in between words. 

“Never!” 

“I swear, if you two aren’t dating already, I am opening a court case.” George interrupted, holding a mop. 

“Labels are definitive. Aka it’s not for us. Which means that we’re not dating.” We chorused in unison. It became habit for us, really. Barnes said it, Lucy said it, and now George did. 

“But you obviously like each other.” He folded his arms, blinking. “Leila, your talent is touch, just touch one of his belongings, see his memories.” My sense was touch, and it’s the most dangerous talent, and for some reason mine extends beyond normal capabilities. If I want to, I can see someone’s memories, even if they’re living, by touching one of their belongings. But no. I respect boundaries. 

“No. I wouldn’t do that to anyone, I’m not intrusive.” 

“George, we don’t like each other. I love her like she’s my best friend, almost a sister, but nothing more.” We both went our separate ways, but what Lockwood said kind of hurt me.

His best friend. Almost a sister.

I guess that’s what I was to him. 

“Anyway, I’m gonna have to cancel on the pizza. There’s some research I need to do. Is that ok, Leila?” 

I nodded, fighting back the visible despair. “Yeah, sure. I’ll go on a walk myself.” I pulled on my jacket, clipping my rapier to my belt and leaving the house to go on a quick walk. 

“Hey, Leilani Carson, isn’t it?” I turned to see Quill Kipps, standing there nervously. 

“Yeah. What d’you want, Kipps?” I asked more with more hostility than I’d usually use to ask someone a question. 

“I was in the area, and I saw you were lonely and could use some company. You know, just as someone to talk to.” I’d known Quill Kipps since a young age. And I knew as much as he could be rude and stuck up, he could be genuine. Perhaps he was just being genuine. 

“Sure, I’d like that.” We started walking side by side together, and the first thing I heard nearly made me have a heart attack. 

“I’m sorry for any anger I may have caused you ever since we met. It isn’t justified, especially if it’s how Tony and I had disagreements.” He looked solemn, and I knew that this was genuine, because it was clear. If Kipps could be anything, it’s a window. You can see through him clearly. 

“I mean, you’re not the first person to dislike Lockwood. You just prove it every time you see him.” I shrugged. “He’s temperamental, so I don’t blame you. One second he thinks the world of you and the next you’re just a sister to him or he hates you with a burning passion.” 

“Did he do that to you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh… I’m really sorry. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.” 

“Do I not?” 

“No. You’re a good person-”

“There are lurkers on either side of us.” I warned, taking out my rapier and spare flares. Kipps did the same, both of us going back to back. 

“Lucky we both came out here together, eh?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We’d finished off the lurkers, plus a couple of shadow phantoms, and Kipps offered to drop me home. I reached the door after a lengthy conversation about what we liked and our hobbies, how we ended up where we are, so I realised that he really wasn’t that bad. Kipps wasn’t as bad a person as Lockwood painted him to be. 

“Thank you, Kipps, I really had a lot of fun today.” I smiled, standing on my tiptoes and pecking him on the cheek. Ascending up the steps, my hand was on the doorknob when Kipps called out again. 

“Leila!” I turned around, bemused, “Would you fancy going out for a coffee tomorrow morning?” 

I grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Kipps, I-“ 

“Am not interested.” Lockwood had opened the door, standing there with his jaw ticked and physicality set in an intimidating way. “I’m dreadfully sorry, Kipps, but you’re not bagging my colleague for your private collection of gems. Terrible day to you.” He pulled me inside and shut the door, turning to me, livid. “What were you doing with Quill bloody Kipps?” 

“Oh, I dunno, having fun? I was alone, he was alone, we were walking and talking together! We also had to fight off lurkers and shadow phantoms, so I’m glad he was with me!” I retorted, hanging up my jacket and putting my rapier back. “And what the hell was that for?! ‘Bagging my colleague’?! ‘Private collection of gems’?!” 

“Kipps isn’t someone you should trust. He could be using you.” 

“If Kipps is one thing you aren’t, Anthony bloody Lockwood, then it’s easy to read!” I yelled, storming into the living room with him after me. “He was genuinely interested in me, and I wanted to go out to have coffee with him!” 

“You don’t know him like I know him!” 

“I know him better than you know him!” I yelled, our voices rising. “Not everyone is who you think they are! Sometimes you don’t know them well enough to judge! You think Kipps is some stuck up idiot but he’s not, he’s just a person who you both severely dislike! You think I’m a sweet girl who’s your best friend, who will forever remain your colleague, but guess what?! I’m not sweet! I can be really salty if I want to and you do NOT want to see that side of me! And you, Anthony Lockwood, I don’t even know where to start! You think yourself a glorified hero but you’re just-“ I was cut off by Lockwood’s lips on mine, my breath cut off until he detached from me, tongue darting out to lick his lips quickly. 

“Hopelessly in love with you. That’s what I am. And I know that you may think of me as so many things, but-“ I grabbed his tie, pulling him in again, his hands reacting in less than a second and resting on my waist. My arms wrapped against his neck, both of our lips moving fast in response to our adrenaline. I felt my back collide with the wall, my hand reaching down to undo his tie and chuck it aside while he quickly undid his shirt buttons, taking it off and laying me on the sofa, starting to press light kisses to my neck. 

“Do you want to still go for coffee with Kipps?” He asked, grinning. 

“Hell no. This is much better.”

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #lockwood and co #george karim #lucy carlyle #quill kipps

[eddieschains]

Maximum Security Vol. 2

credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple for the eddie edit 🫶🏽

Vol. 1

Word Count: 1.5k

TW// mentions of murder, brief use of y/n

The morning after is mostly a blur. You were still wrapping your head around everything that had happened just hours before. Getting out of bed was one of the hardest things you’d had to do in months. Harder than giving birth, you’d say. But you had a child to take care of, and now a husband to bail out of jail.

You got Leila changed and dressed for the day, sitting her in her highchair for breakfast while you made a quick phone call to Joyce. You asked her when Hopper’s shift started so that you could be there as soon as he came in.

Hopper had known both you and Eddie nearly your entire lives. For both good reasons, and some bad ones. But he always treated you both like his own children. Maybe it was because Wayne was one of his best friends in high school, or maybe it was because he just wanted you both to feel like you had someplace or someone to call home, since neither of you had that growing up. But, no matter what the circumstance was, he was always there to help and protect both of you.

Joyce told you he should be at the station in about 30 minutes and that he would be expecting you. She gave you her sympathy and told you if you needed anything you and Leila were always welcome at their home.

You hung up the phone, quickly getting dressed and looking somewhat presentable before loading Leila in the car and practically racing to the police station.

You see Hopper pull into the lot just seconds before you do. He clocks you as soon as he gets out of the van, standing and waiting for you as he lights a cigarette.

Putting the car in park, you load Leila into her stroller before walking to meet with Hopper.

“Hey kid.” He pulls you in for a hug, a little longer than his usual. “How you holding up?” He asks, blowing the smoke from his cigarette to the side.

You shake your head, trying not to let the tears that have been brewing all morning fall. “Been better.”

Hop just nods, stomping the cigarette out and leading you into the building. He greets everyone at the door and tells you to wait in his office as he makes you a cup of coffee. You’re sure he can tell you need it by the dark rings around your puffy eyes.

Sitting in his office for what feels like an eternity, all you can do is stare at your sleeping baby. Thinking about how the love of your life could do this to you, to your daughter, even to himself. He was supposed to be bettering himself. Walking down the right path, the path of a wholesome family man. Not the path of attempted murder.

You’re pulled away from your thoughts as you hear the door open, Hopper walking in with two coffee cups, setting one on the table in front of you before plopping down into his chair.

You both sit in silence for a moment, enjoying your fresh cups of coffee and the morning breeze. The slightest moment of peace you’ve been able to get in the last 12 hours.

“How old is she now?” Hopper asks, smiling at Leila.

“6 months.” You smile, combing her hair with your fingers. “It’s been hard… but I know it’ll be worth it one day.”

“It’s worth it now. You’ve got a beautiful baby.”

“And a husband in jail.” You respond, looking back to him. He sighs, a sympathetic look washing over his face.

“So how much is the bail?” You reach down for your purse, rummaging through your wallet. “I brought my checkbook and I know I don’t have much, but I could at least put somewhat of a down payment down if that would work.”

“Oh, sweetheart…” He breathes.

“Or if it’s too much I could look into a bondsman I guess.”

“Uh…”

“I could call my dad. He doesn’t like Eddie but I know he’d rather not have me raise a baby alone.” You continue to ramble, keeping your eyes on your purse as you finally pull out your wallet.

“No, that…” His volume gets a little louder, but you choose to ignore it.

“Or- or Steve! I feel bad asking him for so much but I know he’d help at the drop of a hat and-“

“Y/N!” Hopper shouts, stopping you dead in your tracks. “Eddie’s not getting bailed out.” He softens his voice again.

“Of course he is, that’s why i’m here Hopper.” You scoff.

“He is the prime suspect in a murder, kid.” He softly placed his hand on yours as you shake it away.

“No- no they said- they said he was okay. He got hurt but he was at the hospital and he was going to be okay.” Your chest starts to tighten, as your breathing become shallow.

Hopper takes your hand in his. “Jason died this morning. They tried their best but… he didn’t make it.”

Wait, What? Jason? As in Jason Carver?

“Jason… Jason who?” You ask Hopper, your breathing becoming shallow once again.

“You know which one. Carver.” You scoff, looking away. Sure, they never liked each other but for Eddie to kill him? You would’ve thought it would be the other way around. “What was their… relationship like?” He carefully asks.

You chuckle. Out of all people, Hopper should know the answer to that question. “They hated each other, Hop. You know that. But, I thought we all grew up and moved on…”

“So there wasn’t anything after school? No fights or anything like that?” He questions you further.

“No, no. Nothing like that. Trust me, if Ed would’ve run into him I would’ve been the first person to know.” You respond. “If either of them would’ve gotten hurt, I always thought it would be Eddie. He wouldn’t hurt a fly…”

The only reaction you can let out are a few tears. The information of your husband, the father of your child, being a murderer, becoming all too real at this moment.

“You know… when I first moved into the trailer with him and Wayne, there- there was this stray cat that would roam the park. She didn’t look like she was taken care of very well. But Eddie… Eddie always left food and water out for her. He took her inside when it would rain. He named her Star, cause she would only come out at night. He made her our unofficial child.” You laugh, remembering the way he treated that little kitten, Hopper's eyes soften as he listens to your story. But, you were soon brought back to reality. The tears formed once again as you remembered where Eddie was now. “Where is he? Can I see him?” You ask, wiping the stray tear off of your cheek.

Hopper nods, opening the door and leading you to the few holding cells in the back of the building. He looks at you, silently asking if you’re sure you want to do this, before you send a nod his way. Before he’s able to turn the door handle, you interrupt him.

“Wait.” Hopper stops, looking back at you. “Can I leave Leila with someone out here? I don’t want her to… see him… like that.” He looks back at one of the officers behind you, nodding for him to come over.

“Can you watch the little girl while we go talk to Eddie?” The officer agrees, grabbing hold of the stroller before Hopper ushers you into the holding room.

Walking in, your eyes go straight to Eddie. He’s sitting on the cold metal bench behind the metal bars, his eyes dark and heavy, he’s probably spent most of his time in there crying.

“Baby…” He lifts his head as he hears you walk in. His eyes light up slightly, taking in your presence. “Thank god you’re here baby, i’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for putting you and Leila through this, I- I just wanna go home. Can we go home now?” His voice comes out as a whine, his vocal chords probably tired from all the sobbing he did the previous night.

You fight the tears beginning to form before walking closer to the cell. “What… the fuck. Wha- what the actual fuck is wrong with you, Munson?” Eddie flinches slightly, knowing you only call him by his name when you’re angry. “We were in a good place. Everything was great and then- then you went and- and you… you killed someone, Eddie! And Jason of all people? What were you thinking?” He furrows his brows, and you realize that Hopper hadn’t told him the news yet. “You’re not getting out. Not any time soon. I don't know what the fuck was going through your head but… we can’t help you this time.”

You walk away, heading for the door as you hear Eddie mumble jesus christ, followed by a loud bang from his slapping the metal bars. You turn to look at him. He’s taken a seat on the cold bench, head in his hands as you hear soft cries leave his mouth.

“I love you, Eddie Munson. But you really did it this time.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #prison!eddie #inmate!eddie