#but seriously that man can't be nobody's dad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

m1ssunderstanding · 2 months

Text

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 2.1

Cynthia and John are worse and crazier for admitting what they admitted in the bio. But Jane and Paul are not exempt.

Will forever love this pic of Paul and Julian. He does not look like the fun uncle. He looks tired and dependable. Just stepped out of the womb as a father, didn't he? The sperm that fertilized his egg probably passed some fatherly advice and hair tussles to the other sperm as it passed them.

They should've bought the fucking island.

They never look more like a couple than when the women they're actually dating are right next to them.

The India footage actually looks so beautiful. Obviously it's a beautiful place, but they all genuinely look so free and at peace there. It really could've been so good for them. Getting enlightened, getting soberish, growing closer as a band, taking a much-needed rest. It should've been good.

The music choices in this documentary! The drastic shift from, “all you need is love” and “the dream I had was true” and “I don't need much to set me free.” to Paul leaving to “yes I'm lonely. Wanna die.” “I'm going insane.” “Look at me. Who am I supposed to be?” 8d8 psychic damage. And the thing is it's real. John really did flip a switch, just like that.

Smashing my head into a wall. It's the same as Yoko's quote about how ‘nobody hurt John more than Paul.’ Really Pete? Worse than after his mum died? Really Yoko? More than that drunk cop? Paul, what the fuck did you do to him in India, seriously, because at this point in the doc I can't accept the theory that it was just some lack of communication, I just can't.

It's also telling to me that when John's losing it, everyone's solution is some time alone with Paul. Nobody panic. Paul can fix him. Little do they know Paul's the one that broke him. Or maybe they do know and that's only another reason they know Paul's the only man for the job?

Old-fashioned ad voice: You liked Protective Jesus Scandal Paul? You'll love Protective LSD Scandal John! Really. Before the question is even out, he's making fun of it. I think he cuts off the interviewer at least three times with jokes before he can get the sentence out, and by the time he is, Paul's giggling too hard to feel bad about his little PR fuck-up.

Then he lets Paul talk a bit before jumping back in, this time with his Hard Man suit on. It's just so good. A testament to their unconditional love, really. Because, clearly, Paul's just hurt John pretty bad. And yet, here John is. Using every trick he's got to defend his friend.

But actually, though John is supposedly the one everyone's worried about, Paul's doing a pretty shit job of being the “stable” one. This entire press tour he's either fucking blazed and laughing at everything or disassociated and not contributing.

(((except during that political discussion – again! Paul secretly has actual thoughts on actual things?!)))

But for the most part, John's absolutely holding down the fort. I wonder if this is another case of everyone – all their friends and business associates, just like we as a fandom still do now – assuming John is the problem child, and Paul's the strong one, but actually they're both both.

Back to the political interview. They're just so in sync. Finishing each other's sentences when you're talking about the weather or your shared work is one thing. Finishing each other's sentences on complex topics like why poor whites often vote bigots in or the cause of rampant misinformation is quite another.

“Letting his dad cut his hair at sixteen, seventeen.” You all know that John hates Jim quote.

John: so there's war, and vegetables. There's relativity and absolute. Paul (absolutely smitten): that's great Johnny. Int: that's rather hard for people to interpret. John: well if they can't interpret it now, maybe they will later..... 1. John really was extremely intelligent. 2. That last statement sums up Beatles historiography.

Paul really just Won't be alone with John, will he? Well, two can play at that game, Paul, and John's going to win, let me tell you.

But he's going to do one last panic grab for attention first.

I really do think if John had done something like that *before* Paul would've given him that attention. Told him he's being insane and taken him home to splash some cold water on him or something and then given him whatever softness Paul was capable of. But not anymore.

I wonder if Paul could go back to 1966 if he just wouldn't have taken John to that Indica show where he met Yoko. If he would've just said “okay John, sure, let's just stay home and trip on the couch tonight.” I don't know.

Anyway, Yoko gets an A+ for persistence. Imagine being Paul, George, or Ringo, though, and John is suddenly madly in love with this woman whose been begging you all (and then him specifically) for a platform for over a year? It would be weird to say the least.

John: don't you hate me? I'm crazy, you know. Paul: no I don't hate you. John: aren't you pissed at me now, Paul? Even a little bit? Paul: I'm very proud of you. It's the unstoppable force (“Don't ‘nore me, Mimi!”) vs the immovable object (“I learned to put a shell around me”.) Someone get them some professional help before they nuke the whole world.

“There is, however, a desire to get power in order to use it for good.” One of those quotes that just really lets you see a person, you know? Benevolent dictator Paul.

Yoko, why are you talking about how bad your boy doesn't want to fuck you right in front of all his closest friends and on record for posterity? If you have to be talking about your sex life, shouldn't you be lying about how insanely horny he is for you? Oh, right, she will think of that, just not yet.

And then she waxes poetic about how turned on John is when he's working on music with Paul. Cool. Smart. Thanks for that, though, genuinely.

And Then (gosh, Yoko is such an asset to Beatles history when she's not actively spreading misinformation. Everyone give her a hand) she goes on about how Paul goes out of his way to make her feel respected and even valued. Compare that to John and Linda, anyone? And I want to be clear, I'm not saying this means John cares too much and Paul doesn't care at all, which might be the surface read. I just think John's reaction was to scream in everyone's face that he was in pain and Paul's was to insist ad nauseam that he was fine. You know?

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #yoko ono #linda eastman #ulm #understanding lennon mccartney

219 notes · View notes

s0urw00lf · 5 months

Text

Two peas in a pack : Magic bullet

Stiles stilinski x reader

An: I knowwww it’s been a while… do what to say and this wasn’t even hard to write… no excuse. Anyway enjoy!

Scott Stiles and y/n were all sat in class as their teacher handed out test results. Stiles, who was sitting to y/ns right and behind Scott, tapped Scott on the shoulder getting his attention. "If Derek isn't the alpha, if he's not the one who bit you, then who is?" He asked, y/n nodded "Great question". Scott pondered for a second before answering "I don't know". Stiles sat back but quickly leaned forward again. "Did the alpha kill the bus driver?" He asked, and again Scott answered "I don't know" Stiles sat back again exhaling dramatically loudly, before leaning up again "Does Allison's dad know-" he said but was cut off by Scott "i dont know!" He said way louder, attracting the attention of the whole class momentarily. The teacher had finally reached the trio, y/n looked down at her paper and smiled at the circled A+ at the corner of her paper, she looked over to Stiles and he showed his that just read A. Y/n smirked when she showed hers, laughing at the way stiles face dropped. Y/n took a quick glimpse at Scott while smiling and her smile immediately dropped, making Stiles turn to look. His face mirrored y/ns shock. "Dude you need to study more" Stiles said jokingly "Yeah Scott I knew you were failing, but I didn't think it was this bad" y/n said going along with Stiles's teasing "Okay we’re joking. Scott, it's one test. You're gonna make it up," stiles said trying to lift Scott's spirits, "He's right. Hey, I'll even help you study," Y/n said. Scott sighed "No it's okay, I'm studying with Allison today," Scott said nonchalantly. Stiles plastered a surprised expression on his face "That's my boy" he said making y/n groan. "We're just studying," Scott said shutting down what everyone knew Stiles was referring to. "Uh uh. No, you're not," he said pushing his case.

"No, I'm not?" Scot said questioningly. "Not if I'm forced to live vicariously through you. If you go to her house today and squander that colossal opportunity, I swear to go I will have you de-balled" Stiles ranted. "Don't feel pressured Scott, it's nobody's fault Stiles can't get laid" y/n said, smirking when Stiles looked at her with one eye squinted. "Not like you can either y/n," he said arguing back. "Oh no I can, I just choose not to." She said widening her smirk. "Okay! Just stop with the questions man" Scott said interrupting the banter. "Done. No more questions... no more talk about the alpha or Derek. Especially Derek who still scares me." He said. As soon as y/n heard Stiles mention Derek y/n began to get an overwhelming sense that Derek was nearby. She immediately brushed it off not seeing how he'd be able to get in the school during school hours.

the school had just let out and y/n followed Stiles to his jeep and laughed as he happily jumped in. He pulled out and began to drive out of the parking lot but was abruptly stopped by a very sickly-looking Derek Hale standing in the middle of the road holding his hand up as if to say "Stop". " you gotta be kidding me this guy everywhere" "Ok seriously this guy’s everywhere" y/n said at the same time as stiles, as they looked around for Scott hearing honking from behind them. Scott ran up to the driver's side, then to Derek making both y/n and Stiles get out and do the same. "What are you doing here," Scott asked kneeling beside Derek. "I was shot" Derek replied with labored breaths. "He's not looking so good dude," Stiles said. "Why aren't you healing?" Y/n whispered yelled as she knelt as well. "I can't. It was a different kind of bullet." He answered. "A silver bullet?" Stiles asked. "No you idiot," Derek said glaring up at Stiles. Scott's eyes widened "Wait. That's what she meant when she said you had 48 hours," Scott said. "What? Who said 48 hours?" Derek asked. "the one who shot you" Scott answered. Just then Derek groaned and his eyes shifted to the glowing blue. Y/n looked around panicking making sure nobody was close enough to have seen it. "What are you doing? Stop that" she hissed. Derek shook his head "That's what I'm trying to tell you. I can't." He growled breathlessly. "Derek. Get up!" Scott demanded.

The honking began to get more consistent. Scott lifted Derek as y/n opened the door before climbing into the back seat. "I need you to find the kind of bullet they used," Derek said as Scott closed the door to the jeep. "How the hell am I supposed to do that?" He asked. "Because she's an argent, she's with them," he said. "Why should I help you?” Scott asked "Because you need me," Derek said, making y/n sigh. He was right and Scott knew it "Fine, I'll try. Hey get him out of here" Scott said to Stiles who had just gotten in the driver's seat. "I hate you so much for this," Stiles said through gritted teeth, before pulling off.

They'd been driving for about 30 minutes in silence and Stiles sighed picking up his phone to call Scott, he sighed even louder when he didn't answer, so he decided to text. 'Did you find it?' To which Scott replied 'need more time' making stile slam his phone on the seat, he looked over to Derek who had come out of his jacket "Hey try not to bleed out on my seats, okay?" He said. "Hey stiles ease up, he's shot," Y/n said, stiles again sighed "Fine. We're almost there anyway" he stated. "Almost where?" Derek asked. "Your house," Stiles said. "What? No, you can't take me there" Y/n sighed putting in her earbuds to not hear the two bicker, even when Stiles abruptly stopped the jeep. She thought it was best for them to sort out their differences.

Hours had passed and y/n groaned, they were parked on the side of the road and she was at the point now where she was aggravated. She got out of the car and dialed Scott's number. Surprised when he picked up

Y/n- Hello Scott it's me one of the two friends you so graciously forgot about that is sitting with the dying wolf... where the hell are you!?

Scott- I'm sorry they made me stay for dinner, where are you?

Y/n - parked on the side of the road. Where we have been for going on 2 hours!

She said getting back in the car, holding her phone out for Stiles to take

Stiles - what are we supposed to do with him?!

Scott- take him somewhere. Anywhere!

Stiles- and by the way he's starting to smell

Scott- Like what

Stiles- Like death

Scott- ok, take him to the animal clinic

Stiles- What about your boss

Scott- He's gone by now. There's a spare key in the box behind the dumpster

Stiles sighed "You’re not gonna believe where he's telling me to take you,” he said handing Derek the phone

Derek- Did you find it?

Scott- How am I supposed to find one bullet? They have a million. This house is like the freaking Walmart of guns

Derek- If you don't find it, then I'm dead, alright?

Scott- I'm starting to think that wouldn't be such a bad thing

Derek- Then think about this the alpha called you out against your will. He's gonna do it again. Next time you either kill with him or you get killed. So if you wanna stay alive, then you need me. Find the bullet.

Derek hung up the phone and handed it back to y/n. Stiles started the jeep and they began on their merry way to the animal clinic. "Isn't it ironic we're taking an injured werewolf to an animal clinic?" y/n said with a laugh. "Don't forget you were bitten too" Derek huffed. Y/n made eye contact with Stiles through the mirror and smiled

They arrived at the clinic and Stiles unlocked the door, Derek plopped down on the animal food, y/n got a message from Scott "Does Nordic blue monkshood mean anything to you?" Y/n asked Derek. "It's a rare form of wolfsbane. He has to bring it to me" he said. "Why?" Stiles asked. Derek looked Stiles dead in the face "Because I'm gonna die without it". Y/n sighed a little more panicked she texted Scott with urgency 'You need to get here NOW'

Y/n followed Derek and Stiles through to the operation room. Derek discarded his shirt to which y/n's eyes widened and quickly looked away, and Stiles was quick to look over to see y/n's reaction.

The wound looked horrible if y/n was being honest, "You know that doesn't look like anything some echinacea and a good night's sleep couldn't take care of." Stiles said making y/n shake her head. "When the infection reaches my heart it'll kill me." Derek panted. "You know you really know how to be optimistic," y/n said sarcastically. Both y/n and Stiles watched as Derek rummaged through the drawers and cabinets obviously in search of something. “If he doesn’t get here with the bullet in time, I have a last resort,” he said. “Which is?” Stiles asked. The pair stared at Derek as he pulled out some sort of electric saw “You’re gonna cut off my arm.” Derek answered. This shocked the room into silence as y/n and Stiles racked their brains for something to say. “Oh my god! What if you bleed to death?” Stiles exclaimed. “It’ll heal if it works,” Derek said through clenched teeth as he tied a band around the bicep of his wounded arm. “I can't do this” y/n muttered as she turned away from Derek gagging. stiles nodded his head “Look, I don’t know if I can do this” Stiles explained, sounding like he was trying his best to hold back a gag.

“Why not?” Derek asked, still tying the band. “Well because of the cutting through the flesh-“ “the sawing of the bone!” “And the blood!” “Especially the blood.” Y/n and Stiles said bouncing off each other’s sentences. “Derek sighed dropping his arm onto the table “You faint at the sight of blood?” Derek asked grunting. “No, but we might at the sight of a chopped-off arm!” Stiles said, making y/n nod along. “Yeah no I can't I’m sorry Derek,” Y/n said. “Alright fine. Either you cut off my arm or I'm gonna cut off your head.” Derek said to Stiles. “Okay, you know what? I'm so not buying your threats-“Stiles was cut off by Derek grabbing his shirt and slamming him to the table “All right, bought, sold, totally, I’ll do it” Stiles rambled.

Y/n groaned “You’re an ass sometimes you know that?” She said to Derek “But I'll pass you this time because you’re dying” Y/n said before Derek leaned over and puked some sort of black substance right at his feet “Holy god, what the hell is that!?” “Jesus, I just might projectile vomit,” y/n said gagging while turning away from Derek for the second time tonight. “It’s my body trying to heal itself,” Derek said “Well it isn’t doing a good job,” Y/n said moving towards Stiles. “Now. You gotta do it now.” Derek said to Stiles. But y/n's ears picked up something unusual. The fast breathing of someone coming closer to the clinic, but how could she hear that? How all of a sudden. She heard something drop and hurried footsteps “Guys I think Scott’s here. Y/n muttered “Stiles? Y/n?”. Y/n's head shot up towards the door, she was right. Scott popped through the doorway seeing Stiles holding the saw to Derek’s arm “What the hell are you doing?” Scott almost yelled. Stiles let out a relieved chuckle “Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares.” Stiles said. “Did you get it?” Derek asked. Scott hurriedly dug the bullet out of his pocket and gave it to Derek. “What are you gonna do with it?” Y/n asked “I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” Derek panted before he fell to the ground passed out and dropped the bullet. Scott hurriedly chased after it while Stiles and y/n worked on waking him up.

Y/n tuned out the yelling as she thought, but only one option came to mind. “We have to hit him. Hard” Stiles looked at her as if she was crazy “It's the only way, we don’t have that salt here, we don’t know what to do with the bullet so we can't do it ourselves.” Y/n rushed “We have to hit him”. Stiles looked down at Derek “Please don't kill me for this” he said before he punched Derek square in the face. “Ow, god” Stiles hissed as he shook his hand in pain, Derek had woken up. “Give me,” he said softly as Scott handed them the bullet, and y/n and Stiles helped him up. Derek quickly got to work biting the tip off the bullet and emptying the powder before lighting it on fire, a blue smoke emitted from the substance. He wiped the powder from the table into his hand as he took a breather before pouring it into the bullet wound making him yell out in agony, as he fell to the ground still yelling the trio watched grimacing at his yells of pain, but their wasn’t much they could do. They watched as the wound quickly healed, “that was AWESOME!” Stiles cheered pumping his fist in the air “Are you okay?” Y/n asked. “Aside from the agonizing pain,” Derek remarked. Making y/n roll her eyes “I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health” Stiles said making Derek glare at him. “Okay, we saved your life, which means you’re gonna leave us alone,” Scott said, y/n groaned and walked away muttering “I’ve had enough testosterone for one day”.

She situated herself in the waiting room of the clinic, now able to fully focus on how her body was changing. Her muscles are more defined, she’s hearing better, and if she were to guess she's stronger too, which means the bite did take effect and she’s turned. But into what? She asked herself before Derek walked passed her and out of the clinic with Scott following. She watched them leave wondering where they were going. Stiles soon walked into the waiting room, joining y/n. “where are they going?” Y/n asked softly. Stiles shrugged “Something about the argents, I don’t know,” he said. Y/n smiled “he really is whipped,” Y/n said looking at Stiles, almost lovingly. Stiles chuckled returning her stare “Yeah, he is” he said, not breaking the stare. The atmosphere began to get tense, both wondering if the other felt the same. Y/n was the first to break the eye contact, chuckling “We should lock up” she said looking anywhere but at Stiles. “Yeah,” he agreed. So they got to work cleaning Derek’s puke first then locking up around the clinic, making sure to leave it as they found it. The pair got in Stiles's jeep and drove home, the atmosphere wasn’t exactly tense but it was too much for y/ns liking. It didn’t take long for her to build up the courage to grab Stiles's hand. Stiles whipped his head towards y/n and stared in shock. Y/n laughed “Eyes on the road you big goof, and close your mouth, you're gonna catch flies,” she said, and Stiles nodded turning back towards the road but squeezing her hand just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming when he felt her squeeze back his heart soared over the moon.

#teen wolf #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf x reader #scott mccall #derek hale x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #s0urw00lf #scott mccall x reader #x reader #mieczyslaw stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #teen wolf stiles #stiles stillinski x fem!reader #stiles x y/n

290 notes · View notes

strangemaleswaps · 5 months

Text

Strange Cop Dad Swap

I made my way to the kitchen, expecting some good alcohol since Brittney was rich. Holy shit! There was a huge variety of everything! Now THIS is what I expected at a college party! Who fucking cared if I wasn't even in college yet, or old enough to drink? This shit is crazy!

"What would you like my good sir?" asked some random guy at the table. I didn't think he was an actual bartender, since he was wearing normal clothes. Probably just some weirdo.

"Oh I dunn-" I didn't even finish my sentence when he put something into a shaker and poured it into a red plastic cup. He then handed it to me. Well, I guess if I'm at a college party, I gotta act like a college party guy. I chugged it all down in a second. Suddenly my throat burned like hell.

"Fuck man, one step at a time! Save the chugging for cheap beer. These drinks are classier." He poured me another. "This time baby steps my man."

I was kinda mad, but accepted the drink anyway. I walked back into the living room where people were on the dance floor. I saw my buddy Trent dancing with yet another random girl he just met. I swear that dude solely exists to break hearts.

"Hey! Garrett! Did you get the drinks?

"I got one. If you want one, go get it yourself."

"Ah fuck you! But seriously though aren't you scared your dad's gonna show up? I mean he IS a cop around here."

"Probably not. I'm sure there's lots of parties going on right now. What are the chances that he'd come to this one?” I noticed someone started talking to Brittney. It must've been bad because she widened her eyes and turned the music off. With the new silence in the room, we could hear the blaring police sirens outside.

"Shit who called the cops?" Someone said. The door opened and none other than my stupid dad appeared. His ugly bald head reflected the multicolored lights and he looked around at everyone, while I tried to hide myself behind the crowd. Beside him was the sheriff, Marty. My dad may have been good friends with Marty but he didn’t have to bring the fucking sheriff for something as simple as this.

"Allright allright, party's over. Nobody's getting arrested as long as you cooperate." Everyone started walking out the door and I was exposed. My dad widened his eyes when he noticed me.

"Garrett?! What the fuck are you doing? You know better than that!" He just HAD to start the lecture NOW out of all times, embarrassing me in front of everyone.

"What? I can't come to a party now?"

"Don't try excuses on me! I saw that cup in your hand. What? You expect me to believe that's water? Get in the car. Everybody else move it!” We both started walking outside while Marty stayed to lead the others.

Inside the police car, we were silent for a while until he blew up on me once again.

"I can't believe you were fucking underage drinking! Do you have any idea how irresponsible you are?! You're in your senior year of high school. Do you really think that’s going to be a good habit when you go to college?! You're grounded until graduation. I don't care how harsh that sounds. Graduation you hear?” I knew that nothing I said would change anything so I kept my mouth shut the rest of the car ride.

Back at home, we said nothing to each other as I walked up to my room and slammed the door. About an hour went by and I heard a knock, followed by my dad coming in.

"Hey."

"Go away."

"I just wanted to say that I overreacted a bit back there. It made me so angry seeing the type of person you might’ve ended up as." He was fumbling with his wedding ring. I don't know why he keeps it on anyway. I never knew my mom, and it's clear my dad is divorced so why does he wear a damn wedding ring? He needs to find a girlfriend or something!

“You have no idea how stressful it is! Why can’t I go to some little party just to unwind?”

“I was young once too! I just don’t want you to go down a bad path. You have so much more to learn. This isn’t a good habit to form when you go to college.” It was then that I blew up on him.

“Hey at least I am going to college! Unlike a certain dumbass cop…” His eyes widened and I saw nothing but pure anger on his face,

"I was going to shorten your grounding sentence, but after that attitude not anymore!" He then slammed the door once again.

Trent texted me a bit later, asking if I was going to be able to go to Brittney’s homecoming party. Shit! I forgot about that! There was no way I was going to miss it so we devised a plan for me to sneak out.

The night arrived and I had my plan all set. Trent was going to call the cops on some other party to lure my dad away. When he leaves, Trent will come and pick me up and it's party time! I was in my room pretending to be bored, when right on schedule, my dad came in.

"I got another dumbass party to shut down so stay here, and don't even think about leaving this room. You're still grounded." He had a serious look in his eye.

"Sure sure. I'll be good," I said sarcastically. I looked out the window and as soon as his car was out of sight, I texted Trent. Within minutes he arrived. I quickly got dressed and he picked me up.

"Dude, you're either the bravest guy ever, or the stupidest."

"Hey, I won't stay too long. Just enough to see what it's like really. And then I'll be back in my room before he comes home."

The house was easily twice as packed as the last party, it was incredible. Brittney came down the stairs and approached me with a confused look on her face.

"Hey, wait I thought you were grounded or something. Aren't you afraid your dad is gonna come back? He better not."

"Nah, relax. He's doing some other stupid police work. I won't stay too long anyway."

"Allright, if you say so."

I went to the kitchen, like last time, to find an even bigger variety of drinks! Nobody else was in there so I thought I'd experiment myself this time. I picked up the shaker and started pouring drinks, even though I didn't know what the hell they were. But I didn't care! I'm just glad I was able to sneak away from my dad. I tried the drink and…well it was actually awful. Oh well. I headed to the dance floor and started showing off my moves. I could hear everyone cheering me on until I felt a bit faint. The last thing I remembered was falling over and a couple people looking at me concerned.

When I opened my eyes, I was outside in the dark. What happened? Was I that drunk and they kicked me out? I felt pretty normal though. I walked back up to the door. When I closed it, a draft flew in, which was especially cold on my head for some reason. I let out a deep breath and when I turned around, everyone was staring at me. But it wasn't the type of confused stare I expected; it was a terrified stare. The music stopped and it felt like they were staring into my soul.

"Uh, I'm ok now.” My voice sounded really weird. There was an awkward silence until someone shouted in the back.

"Well party's over…AGAIN!" As everyone started walking out, I noticed Brittney was yelling at someone on the floor.

"Nah, fuck you Garrett. You're not allowed here again. Get up!" Weird coincidence that there was a guy with the same name as me on the dance floor too. As the crowd cleared, I felt a chill down my back as I found “Garrett” looked exactly like me! He seemed to be unconscious. When I approached him and Brittney, she looked up at me…which was weird because we were the same height. Did she get shorter or something?

"Oh uh, he didn't get beat up or anything bad. Just had a few drinks I guess." She spoke so compliantly, unlike the normal way she gives me attitude with every sentence. I noticed the guy on the floor was wearing my clothes too. He didn't just look like me, he WAS me! Was he a clone or something? What's going on? A breeze came through the still-opened door and hit my head again. Why is it so cold up there? I touched the back of my head, and felt a smooth spot. What the fuck? I searched around for my hair…for ANY hair! But all I could find was a smooth bald head. It couldn't be…I looked down at myself and found I was wearing a police officer's uniform, complete with the badge and full utility belt. Brittney stared at me, concerned.

"Is uh everything all right, officer?" No no! Don't call me that!

"I uh, can I use your bathroom?"

"Uh yeah, it's up the stairs and to the left."

As I made my way up and through the hallway, I stared down at my hands, noticing eerily similar things - a wedding ring and a watch that looked exactly like the one my dad wore. I opened the bathroom door and quickly locked it. I gazed into the mirror to find my fears had come true. I turned into my dad!

I grabbed my cheeks and tried pinching them, to make sure it wasn't all a prank and I was just wearing a mask, but nope. I could feel it all. It was real. Fuck! I saw how smooth and shiny my head was; I knew he shaved his head every morning, but I didn't realize how smooth doing that actually made it. It's like a fuckin bowling ball. I hate this! I had long hair before and now it's just all gone! It was freezing up there! I hated cops, so it was really uncomfortable wearing an officer's uniform too.

"Hey are you ok in there?" It was Brittney. I faked a flush and washed my hands.

"Is Garrett still asleep?" It felt weird referring to myself in the 3rd person.

"Yeah he won't wake up."

"I'll just carry him to the car."

Brittany walked to the kitchen, probably to clean up the alcohol before I saw the amount of it. When I got to the living room, I found Marty standing there. He looked up when he approached me and pointed at me.

“Hey you! What do you think you’re doing?” Shit. Does he know?!

“I’m sorry I-” He turned his fake frown into a smile.

“Don’t be. Sometimes we just can’t let anything else come before our duty. Even me.” He leaned over to kiss me. What?! What’s going on? “I guess we’ll have to reschedule that date to some other time.”

A date? Does this mean the whole time, my dad was gay? And for Marty? Was the whole wedding ring thing a facade? Marty actually had one too so maybe they both did it to prevent a scandal within the police department or something? I snapped back to reality when I noticed Marty was still waiting for an answer.

“Uh yeah, sure. Of course!”

“Good! Let me know!” He rubbed my bald head. It was then that I started getting hard …my dad's cock was getting hard. Marty wasn’t my type though! But suddenly the thought of him was making me feel good. Is this because I'm in my dad's body or because he's flirting with me?

I picked up..myself..off the dance floor and put him over my shoulder. I walked over to my dad's police car, and reached into my pocket for the keys to open it. I placed…myself inside, buckled him in, took my phone out of his pocket, and sat down in the driver's seat. I always hated my dad and hated cops in general but it felt pretty awesome actually sitting in the driver's seat of a police car. Like one of those movies where they have to steal one to save the world or something. The flashing lights were still on, but luckily I knew how to turn them off. I pressed the button and began driving home.

When I got home, I picked up my body once again, and carried him. It didn't really occur to me earlier, but if I'm in my dad's body, does this mean he's in my body? Fuck, I can't stand the thought of my dad going around embarrassing me in front of everyone! But he still hadn't woken up yet. What if whatever magical spell made us swap was keeping him asleep? But if he does wake up I need somewhere to put him at least. I walked upstairs and towards his room, and placed him on his own bed. I guess that'll do. I went over to my own room and plopped onto my bed, the pillow feeling extra comfy touching my bare head. I rubbed it again, actually kinda enjoying how it felt. Even though the body belongs to my dad, I'm still borrowing it right now. So I guess I have the freedom to touch myself anywhere. Not that I would want to go…down there. That's my dad's cock, gross! But I'm gonna need to jerk off eventually; I'm already feeling kinda horny now…but why? The thought of Marty crossed my mind and I suddenly was imagining him naked. Shit, not this again. He kinda was cute though, in like a lame cop kinda way. Man, I honestly wanna fuck him now.

At this point my cock was getting so stiff that I could barely take it. I started stripping, taking the heavy utility belt off first. Each garment came off until I was just in my dad's boxers.

I can't believe I was about to do this. I felt around my new dad bod, then peeled the underwear down to see my dad's cock. It was actually pretty big, maybe like 10 inches or so! So nasty…but I had to focus on the thought of Marty to stay hard. I took the underwear off so I was fully nude, laid down on my bed and started jerking it. I imagined Marty cornering me against the wall, kissing me until he grabbed my cock. He then got down on his knees and started sucking it until…I was pulled out of my fantasy and came. The white load shot all over my bed, much further than I could ever do in my body! After the climax wore off, I realized how gross it was that my dad's cum was all over my bed. But it felt so good! Actually, I have no clue how long I'm gonna be like this, or how long my dad is going to stay asleep so I could definitely take over his life for a bit. I'm not grounded anymore! Even better, I guess I'm a cop now so I have power and authority! I took my dad's phone - I mean MY phone - and called up Marty.

"Hey Marty, I have an idea…”

#strangemaleswaps #male body swap #body swap #dad body swap

219 notes · View notes

wheres-mylove · 8 months

Text

as if!

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Tyrell!Reader

previous part ✩ next part ✩ series masterlist

Part 2: Just a Girl

Summary: Our chief matchmaker not only accomplishes her secret mission, but also gains an upper hand over Aemond – special thanks to the ancestral Targaryen overconfidence. Oh, and to Aegon, the supporter.

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 4.4k

The infamous jeep stopped by the curb, tires screeching. To be honest, its arrival had been announced way earlier by Lady Gaga’s song booming from the speakers. And a cursing cyclist whom (Y/N) Tyrell had nearly killed on the street.

Aegon was leaning against the wall of the nearest building, eyebrows raised, observing the girl's maneuvers. One would sooner suspect Miss Tyrell of being under the influence of alcohol right now.

“It's Britney, bitch?” he asked with a mocking smile. His gaze then fixed with considerable concern on the shattered side mirror.

(Y/N) leaned back in her seat, lowered the music to a minimum, and adjusted heart-shaped pink sunglasses on her nose.

“You're so funny it hurts. Get in. Quick, before someone sees you with me!” she ordered at once, not bothered to greet the guy, waving at him impatiently.

Aegon Targaryen bore a strong resemblance to his beloved brother, as he was behaving in an annoying manner as well. Slowly, he circled the car and opened the passenger door at a leisurely pace.

She honked, smashing the horn with an open hand, and sending him an angry look. The boy flinched and finally got his ass in the passenger seat. He didn't even get a word out before she had peeled out.

“Is this your first time?” he asked, nervously laughing and gripping the headrest with both hands.

“I have a permit. And I'll have my driver's license soon,” she replied with an innocent smile.

“But that mirror seems to have met Aemond’s face,” Aegon muttered under his breath. Then he swiftly stole her glasses. (Y/N) looked at Targaryen with disapproval.

“You couldn’t see a thing in those,” the blonde justified, relieved that she had slowed down a bit. “And trust me, it would be wonderful if you could see the road.”

“Not my fault that trees and hydrants appear so suddenly. Man, out of nowhere...”

“Alright, alright, could you kindly explain why I had to walk two blocks to catch this ride?”

“I can't risk one of your buddies or anyone else recognizing me and starting some disgusting rumors that we're seeing each other,” the girl retorted. Aegon dramatically clutched his chest. “Are you sure that no one was following you?”

“It wouldn't damage your reputation as much as you think. I'm quite popular as well. Some parts of me are.”

She pretended to feel nauseous.

“Ugh, as if.”

The jeep hit the speed bump. Aegon could swear he saw the light. They turned into a side alley. He lowered the heart-shaped glasses down his nose, looked around, and realized they had parked in front of some random grocery store forgotten by the gods.

(Y/N) laughed at the sight of his confusion.

“Well, nobody will notice us. Only some wrinkly old people shop here. It’s my to-go place when I want a moment of anonymity.”

“Okay, superstar. Didn’t really ask.” He spread his legs on the dashboard, causing the girl's eyes to widen.

“Stop being a fucking savage! It's a gift from my dad, don't put your dirty-ass feet here.”

Aegon pushed the glasses up to his forehead and gave a meaningful glance at the damaged mirror.

“If you value it so much, maybe don't smash it before your driving test,” he said in a sing-song voice, not moving a bit. “I feel like I'm meeting a dealer. That's how it usually goes. You ordered discretion, took me to a secluded place, and…”

“Paper bag on the back seat. Be careful,” she advised, fixing her hair in the meantime. After a moment of consideration, she reached into the passenger-side compartment, retrieved a bottle of expensive perfume, and sprayed it on Aegon’s seat. Now he was busy collecting the bag with childlike excitement. Ended up seriously disappointed.

“Boring,” he muttered, handing her one of the two takeaway coffee cups.

“I didn't know what you usually drink apart from beer and piss, so I went with a basic cappuccino,” she explained, taking the cup and smiling at Targaryen's offended expression. “Don't tell me you were expecting something extravagant. This is a business meeting. Let's not prolong it.”

“So, how is it?”

“Please, take him. He's your brother, your concern. We'll make arrangements. We'll find a place for him. You can do whatever you want with him, but get him out of my house. I don't want him.”

Aegon stared at her in silence for a moment, then burst into laughter.

“This really isn't a reason to laugh, Aegon!” (Y/N) snapped at him, resting her forehead on the edge of the steering wheel with a heavy sigh.

“I warned you. I told you it would be like this,” the boy replied, shrugging. “Has he already called you a brainless idiot?”

“Not yet.”

“See, that means he really likes you! And he doesn’t even bite!”

“Yet.”

Targaryen tapped her on the shoulder, and she raised her head. He nodded encouragingly.

“Go on.” Aegon began to slurp his coffee and leaned forward.

“I tried my best. I'm really polite to him. I greet him, ask how his day was. But I don't know what else to talk to him about. He barely speaks, while we’re at it. Maybe he just has communication issues. He doesn't talk to me, but that doesn't mean he's avoiding me, oh no. He's everywhere. I can't go peacefully to the living room or the kitchen because he's always there. So much hovering for someone who's supposed to be busy. He sits with his thick philosophical books, to show off how smart he is. The name Nietzsche is probably going to trigger some conditional anger in me now. And when he does speak, it's malicious. Not directly, but—Shit, damn it! My dad adores him. He's quiet around him too, but he makes the effort, you know? Dad thinks he has the perfect temperament, that he's rational and composed. Can you even imagine how frustrating that is?”

“Girl, I lived under the same roof with him for a while, I've already served my sentence,” Aegon tapped his fingers on the cup. “Want advice from an experienced guy?”

“Usually, I'm the one giving advice," (Y/N) muttered, staring blankly ahead. An elderly couple with bags full of groceries passed in front of the jeep. The woman waved with her free hand, and (Y/N) waved back. “Ah, I advised her to strike up a conversation with the widower from the senior club. You see, they're together now.”

“Be a bitch,” Aegon chimed in, to which the girl opened her mouth in outrage.

“Betty is eighty years old, I'm kind to elderly people—”

“To Aemond, honey. Give him a taste of his own medicine. There's no other way. Assert the dominance.”

“I can't. Dad will get super angry.”

“You said yourself that my brother is discreet in being an asshole. Fight back.”

“Maybe you're right. He's in my house, he's my guest, I should set the rules,” she said firmly, clinking her cup with Aegon's.

“Cheers,” he said with a laugh. “Jason Lannister asked about you today.”

(Y/N) took a deep breath through her nose and shook her head.

“Another one? I don't have time for nonsense. Nobody respects that.”

“I think Aemond will. You're not his type. He prefers the smart ones,” the boy assured, probably not thinking too long about his statement.

“What, excuse me?” (Y/N) bristled, looking at him from the corner of her eye.

“Hey, I'm not saying you're stupid,” a now-panicked Aegon corrected himself. “You're just... a pink princess with a passion for fashion? Oh gods, I think I said something wrong. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!”

“You'll get out of my car, but I'll speed up first.”

They could just as well place a warning sign on the door. (Y/N) realized she hadn't been in there since Aemond appeared in their house. She unconsciously started avoiding that part of the first floor. The same couldn't be said for her housemate, whom she nearly collided with yesterday when she was leaving to meet Aegon. She had no idea what he was doing near her room. Of course, she couldn't ask him because he strategically retreated upon seeing her.

A social butterfly.

She knocked loudly three times, grimacing at the sound. Mr. Tyrell had told her to go find him. They usually had dinner at six, but today they had to move it up an hour. He was heading to one of those business banquets where people drank too much whiskey and talked too much about business.

No response. Silence. But he was inside for sure. She would have seen him leave from her strategic spot on the couch. Targaryen roamed everywhere, but strangely left that corner alone. Maybe she had marked it too much with her presence.

(Y/N) didn't know what’s gotten into her, but she pushed the door wide open without an invitation. It only occurred to her after a moment that she might see something she would later regret.

She didn't know if it was luck or misfortune, but Aemond, decent or not, was nowhere to be seen. A faint splashing of water could be heard from behind the closed bathroom door.

(Y/N) Tyrell smiled cunningly, registering Lana Del Rey’s song playing in the background. Finally, something she could use to bully him. She cleared her throat.

“Aemond?” she called out, taking a step back and putting her hand on the doorknob to give the impression that she hadn't barged into his solitary kingdom. She quickly scanned the room. It was clean. Almost sterile. The stack of books on the nightstand? You could practically fit a ruler to it.

“It's kind that you respect my privacy,” a quiet voice interrupted her thoughts, making her jump. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, and she could only see his bowed head, a cascade of wet hair, bare arm was also on display... Don't stare. “I could…”

“Be naked, masturbating or reading one of Colleen Hoover's books,” she offered nonchalantly, remembering his brother's advice and suppressing her father's request. “Which one would make this experience the most humbling for you?”

Aemond squinted, giving her a look she couldn't quite decipher. He made a sound that could be classified as something between a grunt and a laugh. Man seemed to have the right one for every occasion.

“Get dressed and come downstairs; we're eating early,” she informed him before making a dramatic pause, letting Lana sing. “Once you're back from the west coast.”

Targaryen pressed his lips into a thin line. She smiled in a condescending manner.

“You'd prefer La Traviata, I presume,” he said and then shut the door. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at the reference to their first meeting.

“We'll wait, sweetheart. Take your time.”

As she was walking down the stairs, she concluded that Aemond Targaryen was not an opponent she couldn't handle. She could complain or show him who was in charge.

She was a badass. A force to be reckoned with.

When she entered the dining room with a newly found surge of confidence, Mr. Tyrell shot her an indignant look and tossed an envelope onto the table. It was a miracle it didn’t land in the soup vase.

“I’ve just received this. Explain yourself.”

The girl cursed under her breath at the sight of this so unexpected mail and clasped her hands in an awkward gesture.

“Dad, you can't get angry outside of work hours,” she gently reminded him, to which her father snorted impatiently and rubbed his forehead.

Aemond Targaryen, with his perfect timing, walked into the room at that exact moment. He looked at her first, then at Mr. Tyrell attentively and stopped in the doorway.

“Another ticket?” her father continued, paying no attention to the fact that they now had a witness to this delightful conversation.

“Unjustified! I didn't exceed the speed limit that much. Maybe a little. A tad. Barely. They must have made a mistake,” (Y/N) explained, approaching her father and seating him at the head of the table. “Besides, don't be so upset; it's not the first…”

“(Y/N)!” Mr. Tyrell scolded her. “That is very thoughtless of you.”

“Not during dinner,” she requested, nodding in Aemond’s direction. “We have a guest, dad. Maybe later.”

Aemond was delighted. Just looking at his pleased expression made her want to smack him. She sat down on her father's right side , and Targaryen joined them a moment later. Mr. Tyrell reached for the envelope he had thrown earlier and started examining its contents again.

“You lead such a fast-paced life that you can't slow down?” Aemond asked, leaning in as if to hand her the vase. “Or maybe you can’t see the difference between the gas and the brake?”

“I'm considering not letting you drive anymore,” Mr. Tyrell said, interrupting their lovey-dovey conversation. “No more driving until you pass your exam.”

“That's unfair! This was the third and final ticket, I promise.”

“Quiet, child, before you give me a heart attack,” her father begged, then looked at Aemond. “You'll support me in this, young man, won't you? Tell her it can't continue like this.”

“Absolutely, sir,” Targaryen replied, placing his hand on the back of her chair. He acted like it was the best day of his life. “It's exceptionally reckless, (Y/N). You pose a threat not only to other road users but also to yourself. You're not ready to sit behind the wheel. Maybe it's worth admitting to the mistake before someone gets hurt.”

“Ass-licker,” she muttered under her breath so her father wouldn't hear.

“Aemond is right,” Mr. Tyrell sighed, handing him the ticket for inspection.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she exclaimed, snatching the paper from her father. “Embrace him and call him son. Aemond Targaryen is always right.”

“All these negative emotions, where are they coming from?” The boy smiled maliciously, and (Y/N) had to gather all her self-control not to strangle him right there.

“We need to find the right solution, be responsible,” Mr. Tyrell decided, evoking authority.

“We need to take the bus,” Aemond suggested in her ear. She'd strangle him, that was decided.

“You'll help her, won't you, young man? Aemond, you have a driver's license. You're exceptionally sensible, and I trust you completely in this matter. From now on, she'll only get in that jeep with you. You'll watch over her, make sure her driving isn’t a threat to anyone.”

“What?” he asked weakly, suddenly turning pale. He looked at Mr. Tyrell, who was not joking. “I mean, yes, sir.”

(Y/N) laughed, flattening the ticket against his chest.

“See how it turned out for you, sir.”

They stood in silence right in front of the professors' mailboxes. (Y/N) gazed ahead with determination in her eyes, while Baela looked at her friend as if questioning her mental state.

“You're joking, right?” she asked with uncertainty, holding the stack of papers tied with a red ribbon up to her nose. “Scented? You crazy bitch.”

(Y/N) held out her hand.

“Stand guard,” she ordered in a serious tone, but Baela still didn't give up the treasure that Miss Tyrell had been working on for half the afternoon. “What now?”

“She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies?” Her friend read aloud, furrowing her brows. “That’s way too much.”

“And all that's best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes,” (Y/N) finished up, winking at her. “That's very sexy of Lord Byron.”

Bae finally gave in and handed her the letter.

“I'm out there on the watch. If our grades don't improve after all this shit, I'll have Arryk write you a letter,” she threatened, walking down the hallway with her hands placed confidently on her hips. A professional bodyguard.

(Y/N) began her search among the dozen of plates, surnames starting with the letter T on them.

Miss Tully. Miss Tully, where are you?

“She’s on her way, hurry! Will be there in a minute,” Baela said, turning towards her friend and waving her hand.

“That's the point; she has a break now between classes,” (Y/N) replied, dropping the surprise through the mailbox slot. “She'll find something to brighten her day. Come on!”

The girl headed towards the student lounge, slumping onto one of the couches and picking up some tedious magazine from the table. Baela joined her a moment later, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Where were you trained?”

“At the Matchmaker Academy. Elite unit,” (Y/N) said with a laugh. Less than a minute later, they heard the clicking sound of high heels. “Play indifferent.”

Miss Tully was walking briskly towards her mailbox, probably expecting to find official mail or a few late assignments from her students. She was a middle-aged professor with chestnut hair neatly pulled into a tight bun, glasses perched on her nose, and an unhealthy love for tweed.

She was unmarried and specialized in poetry of the Romantic era. She truly was an untapped potential.

“I don't see it,” Baela muttered, watching Professor Tully open her mailbox.

“Even if I'm wrong, which happens once in a thousand years,” (Y/N) replied, flipping through the magazine. “Look at her reaction.”

The woman with furrowed brows examined the letter from all angles. Then she looked around, so Bae pretended to be deeply interested in the view outside the window. She untied the ribbon and scanned the words.

Miss Tully blushed.

“She's smiling now?” (Y/N) asked, turning another page.

“She's giggling.”

“Giggling?”

“I told you.”

“Gods, I'm a genius.”

“Now she's smelling the pages.”

“Wonderful.”

The sound of high heels echoed again, this time intensifying with each step, as Miss Tully was approaching them.

“Excuse me, girls?” she began with a slightly trembling voice, hiding the letter under a brown document folder. She glanced a moment longer at (Y/N). “Miss Tyrell?”

“Oh, good morning, Professor,” the girl greeted her, putting the magazine aside and smiling politely at the older woman. “Is there a problem with my essay?”

“Oh, not at all, my dear, it was a joy to read,” she assured quickly, adjusting her glasses with a seemingly careless movement. “Have you been sitting here for long? You’d happen to notice, well… Has anyone recently put something in my mailbox?”

“Hm, Professor Baratheon was here about half an hour ago,” (Y/N) replied, resting her chin on her hand. “But I think he was just checking his mail. I'm not sure if he dropped anything. Besides that, no one.”

“Oh, I see…” Miss Tully replied with a slight hint of disappointment. Then she blushed even more. “Professor Baratheon, you say? We haven't talked in a while.”

“You didn’t hear it from me, but…” (Y/N) started, and Professor Tully leaned in conspiratorially towards her. “I think it would be good for him to have someone to talk to. Lately, he seems a bit down.”

“You didn’t hear it from me also, dear, but…” Miss Tully was now sitting on the edge of the couch. “I've heard about the recent troubles with his ex-wife. He must be lonely…”

Baela watched in wide-eyed amazement as this exchange unfolded. It turned out that (Y/N) Tyrell was able to charm anyone, especially a spinster.

“Besides, if I may make such a personal observation, of course,"” (Y/N) interjected when Miss Tully was already thanking her and getting ready to leave. “You have beautiful hair. You should wear it down more often to show it off.”

The woman smiled shyly and touched her head.

“Do you really think so? Won't it be too... frivolous?”

“Oh, not at all! I think a bit of freedom would add to your charm.”

Miss Tully had never looked as beautiful as she did now, after receiving a letter from a mysterious admirer and a compliment from a pretty girl.

“Teach me, oh wise one. You've got that lady wrapped around your finger,” Baela commented in admiration.

(Y/N) stood up with a jump and smiled broadly.

“Now, let's go to Borris.”

“Do you have a scented letter for him too?”

“I told you about my theory that he can't read. I'll just tell him that Miss Tully thinks he's intelligent. That should be enough for a man like Baratheon.”

(Y/N) Tyrell was on the verge of stomping her foot in frustration.

“I was only gone for ten minutes!” she exclaimed, to which Aemond tore his gaze away from the TV screen and looked at her with something that resembled pity.

“You were taking that bath for precisely…” he began, putting his arm on the couch's backrest and checking his watch. “One hour and six minutes, counting from the moment you vacated the spot.”

She huffed in annoyance. Targaryen only now gave (Y/N) a closer look. She returned from her room in a pink satin robe. He raised an eyebrow, then she was left to argue with the back of his platinum blond, stupid head.

“We obviously have a misunderstanding here. Today is Friday evening. On Friday evenings, the TV is mine. Because I have a movie night,” she explained, striving for a calm tone and pinching the bridge of her nose. Inhale and exhale.

“I don't see any note with that information. Unspoken agreements don't hold much weight, do they? You didn't discuss this with me.”

(Y/N) lost her patience, so she marched in front of the TV, blocking Aemond's view of whatever dull news program he was watching now, and folded her arms across her chest.

“This is childish,” he remarked without moving an inch, wearing a smug smile.

“I'll stand here until you give up watching these two bald debaters for today. Who cares anyway?”

“I like to stay updated with the news. You're acting childish,” he repeated. (Y/N) wasn't fazed in the slightest.

“If you were a nice boy, I'd offer a compromise.”

“Am I not a nice boy?” he asked with feigned offense, basically lounging on the couch at this point.

“You could watch a movie with me. I'd choose, and you'd keep me company, and we'd all be happy-”

“(Y/N)!” Mr. Tyrell suddenly appeared in the living room, holding his cell phone as far away from his ear as possible. “Why is Baela Targaryen bothering me and asking if you're alive? She mentioned something about an emergency.”

“Oh, damn, I left mine upstairs,” (Y/N) replied, taking her father's phone. “I'll return it to you later!”

Mr. Tyrell waved her off and returned to his duties, probably reorganizing the documents. He was unable to rest. The girl brought the phone to her ear.

“Hey, Bae. What's so important that you're calling my old man?” she asked while pushing the footstool across the floor and setting it right in front of the TV. She sat down on it and crossed her legs.

“Childish,” Aemond mouthed. She stuck her tongue out at him in return.

“You won't believe it; I didn't expect such swift results,” Baela exclaimed from the other end of the line. “I was just leaving volleyball practice. Guess who I saw!”

“Professor Baratheon and Professor Tully?” (Y/N) asked a somewhat rhetorical question, smiling with satisfaction.

“Sitting on a blanket under a tree. They seem to have organized some kind of picnic. You'd have to see them, with their puppy-dog eyes and smiles full of love. They seemed to be on cloud nine.”

“I told you it would work. Another success in my career.”

“I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it will remove the stick from Baratheon’s ass.”

“When he's no longer sexually frustrated, he'll loosen up,” (Y/N) assured. She noticed Targaryen's questioning look at that remark. “I'm not talking about you.”

“Aemond's with you?”

“Unfortunately.”

"Give him my regards.”

“I won't.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow, right?”

(Y/N) grimaced, remembering that she would have to ask Targaryen for a favor.

“Sure. Bye.”

Aemond tapped his knee and looked at her with a smirk.

“So, who's frustrated?” he asked, sending her a mean smile. “Your boyfriend?”

“You're such a dick. I don't have a boyfriend. I was talking about my professor.”

“That doesn't sound good,” Targaryen remarked. (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“Gods, I'm not going to explain the whole story to you. I just set up my professor with another professor.”

“You set them up?” he repeated.

“Yeah, and what's it to you? Need some help in the relationship department? I wouldn't be surprised, considering how charming you are.” She pointed a finger at him. “Let's make a deal. You can watch your news, but you'll go to the shopping mall with me tomorrow.”

“Are you asking me out?” He was trying her patience, and he knew it well.

“Behave. Just as my father said, I can't drive the jeep unsupervised-”

“No way.”

“Please. Please. Please. Please-”

“What are the chances of you shutting up until you get your way?”

“Slim to none,” she replied, knowing she had him cornered. He was to blame for this one. Consequences of being cocky.

“Alright,” he grumbled, well aware that he had no other choice. She could complain to her father at any moment.

“Enjoy your evening,” she chirped, finally moving out of his line of sight.

“Wait,” he stopped her before she could leave and handed her the remote control. “Out of pure curiosity.”

(Y/N) gave him a sweet smile and almost snatched the remote from his hand before flopping onto the couch, keeping a reasonable distance from him.

Aemond Targaryen watched in horror as she selected Barbie as The Princess and the Pauper.

“Movie night or a cartoon night?”

“Listen, as a literature enthusiast, you should know that it was inspired-”

“Absolutely not," he stated, getting up from the couch and marching to the kitchen.

(Y/N) shrugged. Pussy. Goal achieved anyway. Movie night with Barbie, as her tradition dictated.

“Can you bring me a snack while you're there? M&Ms will do!”

She expected him to ignore her, as she had already abused his good humor quite a bit, but he appeared a moment later, holding an apple in one hand and tossing a bag of candy onto the pillow next to her with the other.

“Thanks! Would watching Barbie tarnish your manly honor?”

“My sister watched that when she was seven. Look at what that says about your level.”

“Alright, Mr. Partypooper. Goodnight.”

Aemond didn't leave. He lingered in the doorway for almost an hour, busy pretending that he’s not watching the movie at all. Someone give him an Oscar for that performance.

(Y/N) decided to let it slide. This time. Just as he had let her singing I am a Girl Like You slide without any snide comments.

Taglist: @wintrr13 @melsunshine @tempo-rary-fix @mooncalvin @carriellie @jusmiw82j2j @sirenangelroyal @marvelescvpe @ohmydemimonde @watercolorskyy @tsujifreya

💛 - tumblr won't let me tag

Please let me know if you wish to be added or removed!

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #modern!aemond #modern!aemond x reader

133 notes · View notes

thottybrucewayne · 4 months

Text

A LIST OF PEOPLE WHO ARE GOING TO HELL: 2024 EDITION

Every zionist, duh, but esp yall who screenshot perfectly reasonable posts and go "Um, the look at this idiot who thinks genocide is wrong" yall make my ass itch and nobody takes you seriously, MOVE. 2. The entire U.S. government but esp Joe Biden that old ass man gettin spit roasted in hell (AND NOT THE FUN KIND!) 3. DIDDY AND EVERY SINGLE PERSON THAT PROTECTED AND DEFENDED HIM. 4. Tory Lanez whole family, his mama, his daddy, his dog? All them. 5. The nonblack people who run those Rap House Tv type blogs that are clearly trying to be shade room clones. 6. People who get all their news from the Shade Room and Whatsapp, sorry auntie, I'm sick of you tellin' me COVID can be cured by sticking cloves of garlic up my nose :/ 7. Every single one of you dirtbag leftist ass people, yall do nothing for nobody except you thousands of adoring "former nazi" fans that need to be told it's okay that they still say the n word in private. 8. N.O.R.E and every single hiphop "journalist" 9. Charlemagne Tha God and Dj Envy, they know why. 10. Everyone who made Ike and Tina jokes after Tina past away. Grow up. 11. You fanfic girlies. So many of y'all are seeing the lake of fire, But esp if you donate to ao3 or own ao3 merch. Like, that is just embarrassing. 12. It's 2024, If I see you coming up here saying shit like "Miku wroke harry potter!" or " Hello Kitty wrote Ofmed, actually" I'm sending you to hell myself. 13. Booktokers? This is yall the second year on this list, tighten the fuck up and stop being weird about strange men on the internet, now. 14. People who do LITERALLY NOTHING yet try to tell other people how to be activists. You contribute nothing to any conversation you're a part of, suck my dick from the back. 15. People who stopped masking because other people were making them feel bad. Fuck your mama not being able to see your smile, PEOPLE ARE DYING???? 16. Lana Del Ray and Taylor Swift. They know exactly what they did. 17. Every white girl on twt who tried to jump me cause I said the Barbie movie is white feminism at its finest. 18. Elon, you raggedy bitch. 19. Every single man who hit on me this year who isn't one of my friends. 20. People who don't know what transmisogyny means and make that everyone else's problem. I need yall to start reading so bad it's not even funny. 21. You "goth is a feeling" people. You gonna be "feeling" that hell fire nippin' at your ass, NEXT 22. You 35 defending fanservice of high schoolers in anime/manga all day every day...yeah, just get on down there, big fella. They waiting on you. 23. Cishet Black men on tiktok and twt who make it their life's mission to make an ass of themselves for minor ducats. You are a one-man modern-day minstrel show and you will be dealt with. 24. White Tyler The Creator fans. Y'all know what you do.

Dishonorable mentions: Shojo fans who never talk about the fucked up shit in the manga they recc you because "At least its not as misogynistic as shounen!" (yes, yes it is) Fashion tiktokkers I hate so many of you its not even funny Every person who put the image of T.D. Jakes getting his doonies beat down at a Diddy party in my mind. Like I literally never needed to think about that. My dad <3 and all my friends' dads. Patricide NOW!!!!! People who are still whining about having to boycott shut upppppp god damn. People who stare at me in public. You got a fuckin problem?????

That's a wrap! Here are the lists from last year and the year before feel free to add more in the tags <3

#thotty speaks #thotty's going to hell list 2024 #thotty rants #tw abuse mention #ask to tag

68 notes · View notes

kingslimeball · 3 months

Text

Living in a Bush

Kurt Kunkle x male!reader

Requested by; @batzfailz

Contents; Fluff

Summary; M/n gets in Kurt's spree before recognising his childhood bestfriend.

Kurt bobs his head along to the music in his car while he sits on his phone. He's been driving people around on spree all day, but just now he's started to get tired. One more. He keeps on telling himself. Just one more, then I'll go home. There's been seven one mores.

The wait for one more passenger seems to be forever. There's no shock to it, though. It's the middle of winter and it's almost 1am. Kurt puts his car into drive, about to give up and drive home, but he gets a notification from his phone. One more.

He instantly clicks on accepting the passenger and puts his phone down. He doesn't really care who he picks up. He's just excited to talk to one last person. He follows the directions, and pulls up to where he hopes the person he's getting is.

Kurt lowers the window and sticks his head out to look for who he's getting. Nobody around. Strange. Kurt jumps and almost yells when he hears the door open and close behind him. He twists around with a smile to see what kind of person he's picked up this time.

"Hey, my name's Kurt!" He introduces like usual. But something seems different. He feels like he knows the boy sitting in his backseat and he can't quite place it. He opens his mouth to ask if he knows him, but the boy has already started talking.

"Nice to meet you, man. I'm so glad you could pick me up, like– you would not believe the day I've had." The boy starts. Kurt turns around and looks at his phone. He starts to drive with the directions from the app.

"I went over to my friend's for a chat, right? And she ended up inviting every damn person she knew, so it ended up a fuckin' party when I was not after that. But then her dog ran out because someone left the door open and everyone went out to find it and..."

Kurt's mind channels out the boy's non-stop talking as he stares at the name on his phone. M/n. He knows this guy from somewhere. But he just can't figure out where. He dives real deep into his memory, but can't find anything.

He looks into the rear view mirror and stares at M/n for a moment. Not to be creepy, but as if trying to solve the puzzle. Solve the puzzle.

While their parent's chat away, incoherent to their little ears, the two boys sit on the floor, rummaging through a pile of puzzle pieces to try and complete it. There are only few pieces layed out already. Neither of them can seem to figure out what next.

"Kurt, seriously, kid? You got the right piece in your hand." His dad says, pointing at where it should go. All the parents look his way. A small Kurt looks at the piece in his hand and looks at the floor. He fits it in place, looking rather proud of himself after. The small M/n looks just as proud of him, like he's just changed the world.

M/n! Kurt smiles to himself as he remembers his childhood friend. He looks in the rear view mirror again. He wants to tell him about it, but M/n just keeps on going on. It's like he doesn't stop. Kurt hears a slight pause and quickly jumps in.

"Hey, uh! I think I know you." Kurt says quickly, not wanting to let M/n start rambling again. He glances over his shoulder at him with a smile, hoping he remembers.

"...I don't think so, man." M/n replies, looking directly at Kurt, as if to try and remember his face.

"I think so." Kurt replies. "When we were kids... we went to school together... our parents were friends.. but I moved away. Kurt!"

M/n's face changes very quickly. "Woah! Oh my god, Kurt? Like, Kunkle? No way!"

"See, I told you!"

"Wow, I couldn't even recognise you. Sorry about that, man." M/n laughs, more out of embarrassment. Kurt shrugs, not taking any offence to it. "I guess it's the hair..?"

"It's all good. I wouldn't recognise me either, so it's okay."

Kurt runs around the garden, searching every perimeter. He spots a bush rustle, and he narrows his eyes. He slowly approaches, grabbing a toy sword on the way to prod at the bush. It rustles again, and Kurt giggles.

"Are you in there?" Kurt asks, sticking the sword further in. The "ow!" That comes from the bush proves him right. Kurt lowers down and crawls into the bush. He finds M/n curled up inside. He playfully gives him a push.

"Found ya!" Kurt exclaims, curling up with M/n in the bush. "It's nice in here, isn't it?"

"I don't really wanna leave." M/n nods in agreement.

"We could stay here forever." Kurt suggests, confidence in his gentle voice. "My parents can have the house, it's fine."

"Really? That sounds so fun!" M/n replies excitedly. They both giggle, Kurt's dirty blond hair becoming ruffled by the lose twigs. "Boys! Dinner is ready!" It's Kurt's mother.

"Shh! shh! shh!" "Quiet!"

Kurt had pulled over somewhere, anywhere, it doesn't matter. He's climbed into the back so he can catch up with M/n after so long.

"So what brings you to Azusa?" Kurt asks.

"I moved out, but it's more affordable here, so..." M/n shrugs.

"You have your own place!? That's crazy, man. I'm still at my parents'." Kurt replies, scratching the back of his neck.

"It's crazy we're not living in a Bush together, right?" M/n jokes.

"Oh my god! You remember that?" Kurt laughs. "We were so sure we'd stay out there forever."

"The rain kinda put me off, to be honest." M/n chuckles.

The laughter dies down, and they're left with a silence. Not exactly awkward, but unreadable. Neither can quite tell what's going on as they stare into each other's eyes.

"I missed you." Kurt admits, breaking the silence. What he intended to say was "How's life treating you?" . But, his mouth has betrayed him.

M/n is flattered. He doesn't know how to react at first, just making sounds between a laugh and a heavy exhale. "I missed you, too."

Kurt stands by his family car as he stares into M/n's eyes. Tears have already escaped down his face. His parents are moving back and forth from the house to the trunk with bags.

"You're leaving?" M/n is crying now, too.

"I didn't know." Kurt admits, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

"You can't leave.."

"I'm sorry!" Kurt cries out as they both dash into each other's arms, sobs escaping from both of them. Kurt's parents awkwardly try to step around them as they hug and cry for what seems to be a little too long.

"C'mon, kid. We're going." Kurt's dad says, opening the door and nodding towards it to try and get Kurt to hurry up.

Kurt looks back to M/n. It's the hardest decision of his life so far, even when it's not a decision that he can even make. He can't choose to stay, as much as he wants to. He slowly steps back from M/n, their arms falling limp from each other.

"I'll never forget you." Kurt promises.

"I won't forget you either."

"I'll find you. I know I will." He says, looking over his shoulder as he gets in the car. Kurt's dad slams the door shut, and gets in the car, too. The car gradually starts to drive into the distance, but M/n chases after as fast as his little legs can carry him. Which, ultimately, is not very fast. He trips over a pothole and hits the asphalt on his forearms and chest. He lifts his head in a whip, not caring about the physical pain, but the emotional.

He makes eye contact with Kurt through the back window as the car disappears from sight.

"I, uh– Really don't wanna say goodbye again, y'know. So I was wondering.." Kurt murmurs quietly, feeling too awkward to spit the words out he needs.

"Are you gonna ask for my number?" M/n said it for him, which is a huge relief. Kurt points and nods.

"Yeah, that!"

"I'd love for you go have it." M/n assures, making sure Kurt doesn't feel nervous about this. They exchange numbers and save their contacts, making sure they've got it right before anything else.

"Haha... uh... maybe we could go out sometime?" Kurt questions.

"Like a date?"

"Like a date, yeah!"

The boys had snuck into M/n's sister's room. It's much different to their usual hangout spots, but they're too young to care.

Kurt sits at the small, child's table, pushing a teddy bear out the way, and M/n sits opposite. They pretend to sip tea from the empty teacups, discussing all sorts of things that go on in their underdeveloped minds.

"I brought you to this restaurant to ask you something." M/n says, getting off the chair and standing by the table. He slowly sinks onto one knee. "Kurt, will you marry me?" He asks with a haribo ring.

Kurt feigns an overdramatic gasp. He nods. "Yes, yes, yes!" He stands from the table and M/n puts the ring on the wrong finger, but neither notice. They jump about, holding onto each other.

"What are you boys so happy about?" M/n's mother asks as she enters to put some clothes away into the sister's wardrobe.

"I'm gonna marry Kurt!" "We're getting married!"

"That's nice, boys."

#kurt kunkle #kurt kunkle x reader #kurt kunkle x male reader #joe keery #Spotify

49 notes · View notes

sadhours · 1 year

Note

This will probably be an odd ask/idea

But I've had a thought. Imagine billy x fem reader who has a seriously religious mother and billy accidentally gets reader pregnant. They aren't in a relationship or anything, just a one night stand.

So readers mom finds out and she drags reader all the way to Billy's house and demands to talk to Neil. At this point billy doesn't know, you just found out you were pregnant. And he's watching your mom scream and yell and demand billy marries you because she doesn't want her daughter to be a wh*re.

Anyways imagine if billy didn't care, not one bit. He thinks you're really pretty anyways and figures he would've likely never settled down (he probably has serious anxiety that nobody will like who he truly is, feels like they would've abandoned him like his mom)

And he's forced to get an apartment with you, so now you're both married with a baby on the way and your own apartment (thankfully your family has money to spare and your dad isn't as serious as your mom is, he's probably sending you a little extra each month) Billy's sleeping on the couch every night, you two haven't taken your so called marriage seriously.

And its still like that when the baby is born (its a girl!) And you've decided to name her Jude because reader had the Beatles song stuck in her head her entire pregnancy.

And you're laying there in the hospital bed alone, your baby is in the nursery with all the other newborns, and you feel billy slide in behind you. He's cuddling you from behind (imagine the ending scene of Juno when she had her baby) and you both fall asleep feeling perfectly content with your life. Even though you never intended to get pregnant or marry billy, you can't help but feel complete

(Sorry this is long)

So angsty but sweet! I hope this tickles your fancy!!

The collage of crosses on the wall remind you of what a charlatan you are. Your vision blurs the longer you look at them, listening to your mother screaming about how you’re going to hell for having premarital sex and with the Hargrove boy no less.

It was a simple checkup, you hadn’t been feeling well and it was supposed to be an easy checkup but your mom insists they test you every time you go to the doctor. She’s been doing it since you got your period. You didn’t expect it to come back positive but then again, when you’d hooked up with Billy, he was so pretty and charming you couldn’t bring yourself to insist he use protection.

He never called and you stopped showing up at the pool. A night to be forgotten about. Unfortunately, God apparently decided to punish you. Your mother tells you as much on the drive over to Billy’s house. When she bangs on the door, you’re standing meekly behind her, unable to meet the blonde’s eyes as he opens up.

“You,” your mother seethes when she sees him. “I need to talk to your father. Now.”

He obeys and your mother drags you inside without an invite, already screaming. Billy stands with his arms crossed with his dad, the both of them equally looking confused as your mom babbles on about angry she is. Then she motions to Billy, “He’s knocked up my daughter! He’s ruined her for any good man.”

Billy’s face drops, finding out the news like this probably not the best way. You tear your eyes away from his, staring down at a stain in the carpet, wondering what caused it.

Neil’s now screaming at Billy and two domineering voices echoing throughout the house is unfortunately a sound you’re used to. And it seems as if Billy is too, but when he’s forced to apologize to your mother you find it odd, eyes darting back up to him.

“They have to get married. She’s not going to be an unwed mother. She’s not going to be a whore,” your mom insists and you’re genuinely shocked when Billy doesn’t protest.

Sharing an apartment with your “husband” is awkward at best. He doesn’t sleep in the bed. You wonder if maybe this was just an easy escape from his apparent shitty home life. It was for you. There’s no yelling anymore. It just feels empty. The bed is empty. Just you, and you know your husband should be in here with you. It hurts that he’s not. You don’t know Billy but you do like him. You like looking at him, you like the polite conversations you have when you have dinner or watch TV together, and you want so desperately for him to come crawl into bed with you and suddenly confess he’s madly in love with you and he’s so happy to be the father of your baby and your husband. But he won’t and he doesn’t.

The ring on your finger doesn’t make you feel married but you are. You have been for almost nine months now. You’re so pregnant you look like you might pop.

As you attempt to sleep, like clockwork, Hey Jude gets stuck in your head. It does almost every night. It is a song that brings you joy so perhaps that’s why. A little lullaby to lull you to sleep. You sing it out to yourself, quietly. Over and over until sleep comes.

Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better

Labor is a long twelve hours and Billy isn’t in the room. Your mother complains profusely about it but you’re not surprised. You didn’t even call him at work when your water broke, but when your mother found out he didn’t know, she called him.

Still, he doesn’t come.

The nurse hands a clean newborn girl to you and your heart melts at the sight of her. Curly blonde hair, blue eyes and a button nose like daddy. Some of you is in there too, not as clearly but it’s there. She looks up at you with big eyes and a wrinkly face and you kiss her forehead.

“Hey, Jude,” you sing to her, naming her after the song that cradled you to sleep every night.

She’s so beautiful and pure.

It’s not until everyone’s left and they’ve tucked Jude away in the newborns room that Billy opens the door. You sigh, turning over and closing your eyes.

Then warmth. He’s getting in the hospital bed with you, chest pressed tightly against your back and an arm wrapping around your waist. It’s the closest you two have been in these long nine months and you don’t realize just how deeply you wanted it.

When he presses a kiss to the back of your neck, you feel hot tears staining your cheeks and everything feels wonderful all of sudden. It feels whole. Complete.

You fall asleep cuddled up like that. Billy clinging onto you and you know he’ll feel the same way when he sees Jude.

#billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove imagine

382 notes · View notes

ilylovelyz · 2 years

Text

family oriented.

c/maknae line.

❥main character(s): bangchan lee know changbin hyunjin x afab!reader

❥genre: smut

❥(major) warning(s): incest, step sibling incest, step parent incest, cousin incest, age gap, stalking, yandere themes, mentions of threats and violence, reader is a bimbo in chans, sexism, emotional manipulation, hate sex, rough/violent sex, p in v, breeding, impregnation, dubcon, noncon

❥wordcount: not that long, ig.

bangchan. the best step dad.

how could bangchan best describe his relationship with you to his colleagues?

he loves you very much. obviously.

perhaps.. maybe a little too much?

his colleagues laughed amongst themselves, praising bangchan for his parenting skills as he, in their own words, "has a daughter with a pure heart."

and he can't do anything except agree!

you really are the purest (and naive) person in the whole world!

and it really shows in the way you, clearly without a care (or rather thought) in the world, bend over in that damn skirt of yours, revealing to any leering eyes your pink lace panties.

it infuriates chan.

not because you're an idiot.

but rather because everyone is staring at you with such a look in their eye

don't they understand that you are already taken?

by him, obviously.

he doesn't show it though.

to everyone else, he is just doing his job as a father and protecting his little girl.

so thats what he does.

he tracks and bugs your phone just to check in every now and then (not very frequently in his words as every 2 days is nothing!) to see if any pesky boys are bothering you.

don't you know boys these days are all about sex and getting high?

you don't deserve anything like that.

you need a real man who will take care of you, fulfill your needs.

and who is a better choice than him?

so nobody is really surprised when he glares daggers at anyone who dares to look in your direction, hand on your waist.

he'll be sure to lecture you at home for your improper and risky actions for sure.

"ah-ah! daddy p-please slow down!" you cry out, your body jolting with every sharp thrust.

ass up, the poor pillow under you soaking up your tears and droll and your daddy keeps a steady hand on the back of your head, occasionally tugging on a strand here and there.

thank god that your mother is on a work trip, otherwise she would hear the unmistakable echos of the headboad banging against the wall, the skin on skin contact, and of course your high pitched cries and screams.

you cry out again as he brings his large work-calloused palms down onto your asscheek, which was already red and imprinted with the same palm. that was the what? 27th slap tonight? originally 20 after he bent you over his slap for being so dumb and flashing your panties. your tongue darted out and your eyes widened at the pain because god does it fucking burn, but god does it burn so good.

"now fuck- as i was saying.. you better not b-be fuckin' around with any of those ah- boys again." he rasps, occasionally pausing with every clench of your cunny.

"'m seriously daddy! it was nothin' i swear-" you cry out before he flips you around, the new angle allowing his monster cock's tip to kiss your fertile and aching womb. "you may think that it was nothing, because let's be honest here, you're naive. too dumb 'n pure to be walking around like that y'know? those-those boys only talk to 'ya 'cuz you're cute." he says, and now that you are face-to-face with him, you take in the sight before you.

before you is your step-dad. prefers to be called daddy when it's just the two of you. this man who is nearing his late 40's, is currently ramming his cock into you. his face flushed with some strands framing his mature features. he has the same dark look in his eyes, the same one he tells you to be wary about, his lips curved upwards into a sick grin.

to be honest, it scares you, just a little bit. but at the same time, you can't help but swoon at his compliments and the attention he gives you. like he tells you, nobody will ever treat you the way he will. don't you love your daddy? if you did, then why are you trying to go to places where other boys will be? what are you trying to do? aren't you a whore, aren't cha? he tells you, watching you begin to cry and deny the assumptions, his lips curving downwards into a feigned disappointed scowl.

"you.. really think so, daddy?" you whimper, his eyes darting up to yours, watching your soft features droop with hurt. it hurts him, too. his daughter was too pure for this world. "yes, babygirl. it's the unfortunate truth. b-but don't worry, your d-daddy will treat you the best he fuck- can." he chokes out, his thumb finding your clit.

"no! n-no wait daddy! i c-can't anymore. 'ts too much!" you cry, more tears slipping down your flushed cheeks. you are rudely interrupted by his hand (the same hand that fingered you open in the backseat of his car earlier) gripping your both sides of your face, squishing your cheeks together.

he chuckles at the sight, "you will cum again you fuckin' dummy. i know what's best for you, don't you ever forget that. nobody will make you cum better than your daddy you ungrateful bitch." he grits out, slapping your face a few times before he resumes his assault on your pussy.

yeah, he's the best step-dad. <3

lee know. your rival cousin.

lee know, your cousin.

or rather, your enemy.

for some reason, it was always a competition between the two of you.

he wasn't much older, only being nearly 3 years older than you.

as result, the family members would always compare the two of you.

everything would suddenly turn into a fierce game until either 1. someone got hurt (usually you.) or 2. someone cried (again, usually you.) and 3. someone got too angry and rage-quit (lee know.)

and unfortunately, majority of the time, luck was either not on your side, or lee know cheated (as always) because you always ended up loosing.

you remember countless times when you two would wrestle, he would slap the inside of your thigh, close to your most intimate and sensitive place, or pinch your chest just close enough for it to knock you off balance.

you also remember one time when he wrestled you to the ground, and put you under him. your thighs on the side of his hips as he (according to his testament when questioned by your parent after you cried to them about it) "jokingly" choked you out, watching the way you cried and your face turn red.

it was afterwards did he finally release his hold on you, standing before you as you coughed and wheezed with that stupid grin and a dark glint in his eyes, calling you a "weak" and a "loser" and that you'll always be beneath him.

maybe if you weren't too focused on trying to regain your breath would you see the wet spot on the crotch of his sweatpants.

aside from that, he would never actually call you by your actual name around his friends.

when asked, he would just tell whoever asked that you were a "related whore" or his personal favorite "just a desperate little girl looking for some dick wherever she goes".

eventually you got sick of his antics after on your 18th birthday, he brought over his uninvited annoying friends and girlfriend and purposely talked shit about you in front of them.

it was there did you call him out on his bullshit, and you also made sure to point the embarrassing kinks you discovered after opening his laptop that he would never have told anyone, not even his girlfriend.

thank god that you were too blind and dumb to find his incest folder, though.

shortly after they left and everyone was situated around the annual bonfire did the asshole make it clear that he absolutely hated you.

"you fucking bitch! how dare you embarrass me like that in front of my girlfriend." he spat, reveling in the way tears spilled out of your doe eyes as he yanked your head by your hair up and down his cock.

"tch, got nothin' to say? can't say anything 'cuz you're too busy choking on your cousin's cock, huh? you fucking whore." he laughs, intertwining his fingers with your hair strands, he abruptly pulled you off his cock, not giving you a second to catch your breath before he brought his hand down onto your cheeks before prying your mouth open with his tongue and spitting on it.

"'m gunna tell your dad-" you tried to say before he gripped onto your forearm and slammed you chest first against the cold bathroom wall. "you aren't gonna say anything, you idiot. you're enjoying this, it's obvious." he replied, rolling his eyes out of annoyance when he yanked your lace panties down and saw the dark wet stain covering nearly the entire thing.

he stretched you out for a minute before he decided that was enough, as in his mind, you definitely have at least slept with several men so the stretch shouldn't be too much. you're a cocksucker at heart in his mind.

ignoring your whines and pleas that you apparently didn't want this, he slammed his thick cock into you until he bottomed out before setting a brutal pace.

pulling your head back, he gripped onto your jaw, forcing you to look at him at an awkward angle. "say you-ha- love this, bitch. you know you do," he rasps, roughly pinching your nipple through your dress. "say it!" he yells, shaking your head when he realizes that yes, you are indeed still a little girl who is desperate for any cock when he sees your eyes roll to the back of your head after his tip became best friends with your cervix.

"ngh- no! i don't! 'm not a whore!" you cry out.

god do you hate lee know. he was always so handsome yet always so fucking agitating. he was your cousin. your enemy. and yet, here he is. raping you against the cold bathroom wall on your 18th birthday, about to possibly give you the best orgasm of your life yet.

he abruptly comes to a halt when he cums, filling you the brim with his seed. he then pulled out, ignoring the flutters and whines of your denied orgasm. he leaves you there, trembling with mascara running down your flushed cheeks. at least now you'll be put to real use; being his incubator.

changbin. your doting little step-brother.

you remember the first time you met changbin.

it was after your parents announced their marriage engagement.

you two were much younger then.

he was 16 and you were 17.

there wasn't much of an age gap between the two of you, but there was a maturity and physical gap.

he was much more.. scrawny then, and was much much more shy.

it took awhile for you two to bond.

everytime you tried talking to him, he seemed to become flustered and antsy, almost like he was ashamed or embarrassed of something.

you were never able to put your finger on it.

you just brushed it off as him being antisocial and probably not having a not of female influence in his life.

totally not because you chose to wear the most revealing tops and the shortest pair of shorts anyone could ever imagine.

eventually, he got comfortable with you and the two of you became inseparable!

he would always cling to your arm, cuddle with you, take you everywhere, lend you his clothes, etc.

he never wasted a moment to brag about all of your achievements to his friends and anyone within earshot, about how he has such an amazing and beautiful older sister.

he would even get all protective over you when any boys would come around.

he was such a cute little brother.

your favorite moments between the two of you was when you two would spoon after such a scary movie.

he was so scared he begged to hold you (as it was very relaxing according to him).

how could you reject a cute little brother like him?

he was glad that you were a deep sleeper, otherwise you would've felt the obvious bulge of his cock and the way he would hump your ass like a bitch in heat.

you remember how sad he was when he saw you off to college.

he was on the verge of tears, practically begging you not to leave.

but obviously, you had to.

so he sent you off with a very platonic kiss on the lips. "i, as your little brother, will miss you very much."

fast forward a couple of years, it was your graduation party and you actually hadn't seen him in awhile.

you've seen pictures of him and facetimed him occasionally but nothing would've prepared you for the change that the dude went through.

your baby brother, is now a man.

while he didn't grow much in height, the way his muscles bulged when he crossed his arms made up for it, the tattoos on him making him look like a piece of art.

you guess you looked different too, because the way he looked at you when he made eye contact was surely different as well.

the sound of rushed kissing and lips smacking together echoed off the familiar bedroom walls. it was your bedroom. the same one you and changbin cuddled in those many years ago. only, you two weren't young teens anymore. but rather, adults. two, very, horny adults.

"w-wait-mhf- changbin," you huffed as changbin groped and caressed every single inch of your body. "ch-changbin, this is wrong.." you whined into his mouth as he squeezed your ass with his calloused hands. he swallowed those whines, choosing to simply silence you by shoving his tongue down your throat.

"i've.. wanted this for so-so long." he admits, opening his eyes which was clouded with pure lust and longing, almost as if he was going to break any minute. "god, this is all your fault. it's not my fault my step-sister decided to prance around in such clothing." he continues, trying to justify the current taboo act you both are committing as he grips underneath your thighs and hoists you up with pure strength, roughly slamming you into the wall before turning around and placing you onto your back onto the bed.

"ah! changbin..! i'm your sister-" you cry out when he moved your panties to the side and wasted no time in sliding two of his thick fingers into your cunt.

"i don't care." he replies, enjoying the feeling of his sister's tight cunny clenching around his fingers. he continues fingering you for a while before he seems to have had enough and rushes to undo his belt and shoves his pants and boxers down, releasing his cock. it looked so painful, standing upright with an angry red tip.

"changbin.." you whimpered. he pressed his tip against your soaked hole before pushing in slowly. his cock wasn't that long, but god was it thick. so thick that just the tip alone knocked the breath out of your lungs. "cha-changbin..!" you squealed out. that was all you could say as he hoisted your legs onto his shoulders and began jackhammering into your pussy, jolting your frame under him.

"i want my.. fuckin' older sister to cum. she deserves a reward for workin' so hard." he grunts, his fingers pressing tight circles onto your clit, resulting in you arching your back and your eyes rolling back. "fuck- my sister is so hot-" he grits, picking up more and more speed before the two of you crash into your orgasms like a freight train.

he stills in you, his chest rising and lowering quickly, a bead of sweat rolling down his jaw. your baby brother was a man now. you couldn't believe it. from such a shy and sweet boy to a menace to society, one that everyone wanted to fuck.

"you don't have any plans to do tomorrow right? because your baby brother isn't done spoiling his pretty older sister."

hyunjin. your perfect step-son.

nobody could put into words how perfect your step-son was.

he was the total package for when it comes to children goals you could say.

he was obedient, intelligent, charismatic and most notably handsome.

you remember the first time you met him.

he was 17? maybe?

despite being nearly an adult, you saw the way his doe eyes lit up and excitedly began to follow you around, asking questions about yourself and praising you like some golden retriever.

what else could he say? he adored you! you were the mother he never had.

in his eyes, you were the mother everyone wanted.

smart, caring and beautiful in his eyes.

he always wanted to be around you, often helping you with chores or his favorite activity, giving you a massage because you're such a hard worker!

however, if there is one thing hyunjin hates about you, it's your ability to easily forgive and forget.

you always crawled back to his asshole of a dad, no matter if he called you the worst names anyone could think of or even physically hurt you.

he will never forget the look in your eyes when you saw his father with another woman.

his father doesn't deserve you.

his father doesn't deserve a woman who moved away from her family to join another, a woman who practically worships the ground her husband walks on, sacrificing her privacy for an annoying child as well, only to reserve jackshit in the end.

no, you deserve a man.

a man like hyunjin.

so, when he comes across you crying over his father again, he chooses to show you what you actually deserve.

"there you go mommy.. big stretch.." he whispers, his hands gripping the back of your knees as he puts you into a tight mating press, slowly pressing his thick tip against the opening of the most sacred part of you (aside from your heart, of course.)

"hyunjin.. stop, i'm your mom-ha," you cry, the veins of his cock rubbing against your gummy walls in the most delicious way. just a second ago was he comforting you after your husband cheated on you for the nth time, and now your step-son, your baby boy, has you basically bent in half at his will, kissing the side of your neck as he works his cock slowly into you.

"don't worry about it, mommy. your son will take care of you the way h-he is supposed to." and at that, you jolt as his cock becomes flush with your cervix, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his thumb finds your clit.

"such a pretty mommy.." he coos, his mouth hungrily lapping and sucking at your nipple like a baby. your face blushes impossibly harder when he moans after a few drops of milk leak out of your buds. "are you pregnant, mommy? did dad actually do his part of being a man and knock you up real good?" he casually says, looking up at you with jealous eyes, pinching your other nipple harshly.

"n-no-fuck, 'm not pregnant!" you cry when he delivers a particularly angled thrust, his cock brushing against that spot (that your husband can never seem to find). "w-we've talked about it before and tried b-but," "he can't because he's not a real man." he interrupts.

"don't worry though, mommy. you have a real man in front of you right now. i-i'll make s-sure to knock you up r-real good-fuck mommy." he chokes out, his thrusts loosing rhythm as he hysterically moves in and out of your soaking pussy.

he pinches your clit, causing a mind breaking orgasm to wash over you, your vision turning white as you clench painfully around his cock to the point he struggles to continue moving inside of you before he curses and cusses and finally empties his fertile seed in you.

"your son will make you an actual mommy, mommy."

#stray kids #stray kids smut #skz smut

590 notes · View notes

a-pastel-edgelord · 3 months

Text

Yanki!Sukuna thoughts...

Sukuna, who hated going home and fell into the "wrong" crowd in middle school. He hated his Mom, who looked right through him. He hated his Dad, who only cares about making his wife happy and was willing to overlook just about anything to make their marriage work.

Yanki!Sukuna... who's mean—he doesn't discriminate in his targets and it gets his ass beat.

Yanki!Sukuna... loves street racing motorcycles outside the suburbs. He lives for the wind whipping around his face and tearing at his clothes.

Yanki!Sukuna... 15 years old, skinny as a whip with bleached hair and is already rocking tattoos up his torso.

Yanki!Sukuna... is cocky and already has a small band of his own followers and tries to break away from the larger group he runs with.

It gets ugly. Like people in the hospital ugly. Like passing out from blood loss in his parent's living room ugly because he has nowhere else to go.

Yanki!Sukuna... who got in a vicious inter-gang fight a few weeks before high school started so his parents shipped him off to Sendai to live with his grandfather.

Yanki!Sukuna... who gets in screaming matches with that old bastard. But is always home for dinner.

Yanki!Sukuna... only goes to school so the old bastard will get off his back.

Yanki!Sukuna... distances himself from his classmates, they're annoying, judgmental, weak and no better than sheep. He snaps at anyone who approaches.

Yanki!Sukuna... who likes to pick fights with everyone until an upperclassman cold clocks him for going after a middle schooler.

"Gonna chill out now, new guy? Or do I need try again?" You crouch over him, ankle length skirt pooling next to his head.

"Eat shit!" He spits.

You grind the heel of your shoe into his hand with an apathetic snarl. "Wrong answer."

Yanki!Sukuna... can't fucking believe he got knocked out by a sukeban nobody like you.

Yanki!Sukuna... calls you out nearly everyday, and like clock work you put him on his ass.

You shake out your hand after a particularly hard hit. "Seriously, don't you have anything better to do?"

"Shut up and fight me, you bitch!"

He wakes up in his bed, head and cheek throbbing.

Yanki!Sukuna... stumbles into the kitchen for an ice pack and his grandfather is at the table sipping on tea.

"You never told me you had a girlfriend!" The old man gives him the side eye.

"HUH?! What the fuck are you talking about? You goin' senile old man?!"

"DON'T YELL AT ME, YOU BRAT! That girl who brought you home, if she's not your girlfriend then who the hell is she?!"

Yanki!Sukuna... never really thought about who you were but a night of contemplation later bring him to a conclusion.

The next morning at school, he waits for you by the gates as usual. But he doesn't pick a fight. Instead, he nods silently at you and goes to his classroom, hands stuffed into his pockets to try to hide the way his palms started sweating at the sight of you... His ears burn white hot whenever you focus your flat appraising gaze on him.

You shrug it off, sometimes it takes one hundred beatings to get the point across—now he'll stop picking fights every five minutes.

Unfortunately, it only took one hundred beatings for Sukuna to fall in love with a nobody sukeban from Sendai.

#jjk fanfic #jjk fic #jjk x reader #jjk sukuna #jjk au #ryomen sukuna x reader #yanki!sukuna #sukeban!reader #jjk crack #its consuming my brain #im obsessed #human sukuna #human sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jujutsu sukuna

36 notes · View notes

seriouslysam8 · 3 months

Note

It's kinda Sad that some Snape haters doesn't see all the facts and accuse him of things that he didn't do or know.

I mean it"s clear, in book 3, that Snape fully believed that Sirius WAS the secret keeper and that he betrayed James and Lily. He thinks that Sirius is partly resposible of Lily's death. He didn't KNOW that it was Peter. Or he would have told Dumbledore, even after the events.

He hates Sirius, right but he would prioritize finding the real culprit. For his pov, at this moment Sirius and Lupin WERE suspicious and Lupin didn't have took his potion (and it could put Harry and the two others in danger).

The same persons find 100 excuses to Lupin for NOT have told Dumbledore that Sirius was a animagus even when he thought he was the culprit, and if Sirius HAD been the culprit, Harry could have been in danger. \_(:/)_/ Good thing that Sirius WAS innocent.

I love Sirius and Lupin, but seriously Remus has made so many mistakes this night.

Both Snape and Remus were wrong. One didn't have all the infos + had something "suspicious" under his yes + was angry and the other didn't take his potion and was bad to explain things. "look at the rat" hello Remus? Snape doesn"t KNOW that Peter is a animagus.

But yeah Snape is worse when he's angry. Sirius push all his boutton everything they see each other. We can't leave them in the same location or blood will be everywhere XD (but maybe they would finally speak as adults and put all the venom out?)

I can’t tell if you’re criticizing my views on Snape or not. I mean, I do hate Snape with a passion. I do not hide that at all.

But you know what? Part of the fun of fandom is that you can have your own opinions and nobody should hate on you having an opinion. I’ve received hate for having an opinion on a character or a ship. It’s rather silly in my mind. If you don’t like my views, block me and don’t read me. I promise I will never seek out people whose opinions I don’t agree with and trash them. I have better things to do with my time. You do you and I do me.

But I do think Snape is a shitty ass human being. He bullies kids he has authority over. He is an absolute jerk to Harry because he dares look like his dead dad he can’t remember. He cannot get over childhood judges. While I agree with you on some points, I disagree with you on others. Even if Snape knew Peter was the real culprit, I don’t think he would have told anyone. He would have been happy to let Sirius rot in Azkaban. Being innocent would probably just tickle his fancy. This is the man who had no problem if an innocent child died as long as his ex-best friend who he has a very creepy obsession over lives. His morals are very questionable.

By contrast, I think there’s plenty of people who are willing to criticize Remus for a lot of things too. I’ve seen people downright hate Remus. I don’t hate Remus. I just want him to be better. But Remus can be a shitty ass human being too at times.

As for Sirius, well, okay, I have an unreasonable soft spot for him and that man can do no wrong in my eyes. I just adore him. And I sympathize with him on a personal level. So, yeah, even the shitty stuff Sirius does I can’t help but love. 😂😂😂 I have a problem, don’t I? There has to be some twisted psychology behind that.

But my point is, not everyone has to agree. I don’t think we should judge people based on their views or their how much they like or dislike a fictional character. I relate to Sirius in a lot of ways because of my own shitty childhood so I hold him on this pedestal. The same with Harry. I relate to him on a personal level so he’s just my cute little cabbage. Meanwhile, characters like Snape make my skin crawl because I can’t understand any adult bullying a child. And I say that as someone who was a child and bullied by my own mother. So that alone turns me off immediately to his character and negates anything good he does. Because I can’t help but see him as a shitty ass person who never grew up.

So instead of thinking people are “sad” or “toxic” or “stupid,” (I’m being general here because I’ve been called these things for having a fucking opinion that someone else doesn’t agree with) it’s best not to judge anyone. You have no idea why they relate to certain characters or why certain characters turn them off. You have no idea what characters are their comfort characters or what characters trigger them. While I make my opinions known on my own page about how I feel, I don’t expect everyone to agree with me. I don’t go to other people’s pages or stories and leave them hate.

21 notes · View notes

keikoyume · 10 months

Note

How would every boss in the disaster family au react to being called something like “dad” or “mom”

🤔🤔🤔🤔

Thin Man: He'd look away, a bit embarrassed but happy (also hiding tears appearing in the corner of his eyes). It'd genuinely be a compliment which warms his heart.

The Doctor: He would be ugly crying, restraining as much tears as he can (he can't.). He wasn't expecting to be called like that and feeling so good about it. The kids would probably be scared of his facial expressions.

The Hunter: He would pretend he didn't hear anything or acts annoyed by the nickname. Fortunately for him, his bag is hidding a restrained smile :)

Roger: BIG SMILE and happy cranky chuckles. He would hug the kid/s.

The Butler: He would laugh softly, finding it cute.

The Craftsman: He would laugh loudly, finding it sad or naive. Craftsman is pretty cynical and grumpy.

The Teacher: Big eyes staring at you, as if she were waiting for an apology. Nobody would call her 'mom'. She doesn't try or want to act like a mother.

Ferryman: He would laugh very loudly to the point of having difficulties to breathe. He can't take it seriously at all.

None of the rest of the Maw is aware of the kids being cared by Roger.

#little nightmares #little nightmares 2 #disaster family au #ask #masterisabelle

69 notes · View notes

shuttershocky · 4 months

Note

What's the Philippine anime lore? What were popular in south east asia but not in the west?

The number 1 answer is Voltes V.

Virtually unheard of in the West, Voltes V was the biggest among the three super robot shows that reigned as king in the Philippines during the martial law era: Voltes V, Deimos, and Mazinger Z. Virtually everybody in my parents' generation watched one of the three even if they weren't anime fans (Deimos was particularly popular among girls because of its love story), and because local channels distributed and dubbed the show themselves, they were immensely popular among the very poor youth who would otherwise be passed up on as a demographic (since they can't buy any merchandise)

My dad was one of those poor kids. He couldn't afford even a cheap, bootlegged Voltes V since he was sending all my titos and titas to school by working, but whenever Voltes V had a promo with merchandise (like when a hotdog brand sold Voltes V stickers), he would wait outside the grocery and beg the people coming out to get him just one sticker.

Since no one would give him any, he taught himself to draw, and got good enough that he could start drawing his own Voltes V sketches until sketching became his future career. To this day, he credits Voltes V with lifting my family out of poverty, and that I wouldn't be here without that robot.

That's why for one of my dad's birthdays, I had a friend comb through an antique store and found a print of the exact same sticker sheet no one would give my dad as a kid. The shop had no idea what it was worth and gave it away for basically free lmao.

Oh and also Voltes V's cancellation by the Marcos regime (they claimed the anime contained too many subversive elements) was so deeply unpopular that it's commonly joked that it's what led to the revolt that ended up kicking Ferdinand Marcos out of power. That's just a joke of course, but whenever it gets brought up at least one old man says "Cancelling Voltes V was the last straw" with deadly seriousness.

Anyway, it turned out Voltes V was so popular in the Philippines and literally nowhere else (including Japan) that when Super Robot Wars featured him, his base city got moved to Manila instead. Its English dub was also done by the Filipinos themselves, as no Western distributor picked the show up, so if you ever find a copy of the show in English you may notice no one sounds remotely american.

_____

Another fun bit of trivia when it comes to anime in the Philippines is that Yu Yu Hakusho got released here with its name (and the names of its entire cast) changed. It was called Ghost Fighter (it's STILL known as Ghost Fighter), and Yusuke was called Eugene. I legitimately did not know for years that this was only in the Philippines, and for the longest time wondered why nobody else ever called the show Ghost Fighter even in English-speaking territories.

To this day my friends and I quote parts of the dub, as translating Yu Yu Hakusho's script into Tagalog made it sound both really funny and yet extremely quotable.

42 notes · View notes

takiniteasynightcoreremix · 4 months

Text

edit: on AO3

tw: canon-typical homophobia, medical gore (near the end). pre-dethklok magnus and murderface, just dudes bein roommates

They pay the security deposit with the last of Magnus' college fund and put Murderface's grandfather's name on the lease instead of their own. It's garbage day, so they spend their morning cruising around a neighborhood on the nice end of town, occasionally stopping to throw furniture into the back of Magnus' truck. They bribe Nathan with a case of beer to help them 'move in', and by the afternoon, it almost looks like a real home: tatty sofa, cracked TV screen, stack of amps along the wall, their own mattresses on the floors of their rooms. It's a two-bedroom, but they deserve a two-bedroom, because they're going to make it big, after all. Nathan almost has a drummer lined up, a big name supposedly, and the gigs are already being penciled in, and they know by instinct that Dethklok is going to be big. Really big. They should be living like kings.

So, on their first day in their new apartment, Murderface and Magnus sit on opposite sides of their freshly-scavenged couch and watch their cracked TV. Magnus has done some 'creative' wiring so that they can 'borrow' cable from the neighbouring apartment, but right now they're only getting one channel and it's the one where people try to sell you things. Deluxe vacuums, currently. Nathan's gone off to have some meeting with their potential new drummer, so it's just the two of them, in their new apartment, that they're now renting together, on their own personal couch. Just the two of them. Roommates. Sitting on a couch…

"Is thisch gay?" Murderface asks aloud.

Magnus glances over a him. "Excuse me?"

"Thisch is kinda gay, right? Two guys living together?"

Magnus blinks at him. "Oh, yeah, totally, man," he replies apathetically, directing his attention back to the television.

"Wait, fuck, scheriously?"

"Seriously. Says on the lease we have to suck each other off every night."

"Fuck. Thatsch not good."

"Trust me, you get used to it."

"Aw, man, this schucks! I don't wanna suck a dude off! Can't I jusch jerk you off or somethin'?"

"If you jerk me off, we don't get the security deposit back."

"Fuck the shecurity deposit. That's your money anyway."

Magnus gives Murderface one of his famous cutting glances from the corner of his eyes. Then he settles back into the couch, propping an ankle over his knee, jiggling his foot a little.

Murderface tries to mimic him, likewise sinking into the sofa, likewise crossing his legs. Super relaxed, super cool.

"I'm not suckin' nobody's pee-pee," Murderface grumbles. "My name's not even on the schtupid lease."

Magnus has already lost interest in the joke. "Oh. Sure. I guess legally, your grand-dad has to suck it."

"Dude, grossch--"

"Shut up," Magnus sits up, gestures to the TV. "Look at that."

The vacuum infomercial has ended. A man dressed as a cowboy now stands before a fake desert backdrop, delivering an inaudible monologue (the speakers on their TV are broken).

"Aw schit," says Murderface, "Now that jusch makes me homeschick."

"Keep watching, idiot," says Magnus.

Murderface keeps watching. He watches as the cowboy reaches into his hip-holster and draws a long, shiny samurai sword.

"Schit!" Murderface sits up. "That's fuckin' aweschome!"

"Right?"

"I want a fuckin' sword-holster! You know what? I'll suck you off if it means we get your money back and use it to buy a fuckin' cowboy ninja sword!"

Magnus looks thoughtful. "You know," he begins slowly, "I have some money left in my college fund."

They lock eyes. No further words need pass between them. They stand and go for the door.

Magnus and Murderface are standing before a kiosk in a shopping mall, admiring a dazzling array of knives.

They have big knives; knives with bad-ass triangular holes in them (aerodynamic!); knives with iridescent blades; knives with that fancy stripy folded-steel blades; They have hunting knives with camo-print handles, little pocket knives, Swiss army knives, pocket knives with bullets for handles, pocket knives with lighters for handles, pocket knives hidden in lipstick (for the ladies). They have knives with spikes on them and knives shaped like axes and knives with jagged serrated edges that look like shark's teeth. And, of course, they have swords.

"Schit," Murderface says, pointing, "I want that one."

"Bad quality steel," Magnus says, without looking.

"Fuck that schit, the blade is black. That means high carbon. Extra scharp."

"This is what you want," says Magnus, pointing to a plain steel hunting knife. "Utilitarian. Functional."

"Boooo-ring."

"Classy. That's a knife you can bring to a fancy dinner."

"Check out that knife," Murderface interrupts him. The knife he points to has a blade the length of his forearm, with spikes all around the base near where it connects to the handle, and several triangular holes in the centre.

"Shit," Magnus breathes. "That's a cool knife."

"So fucking cool."

"You want that one?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

"But?"

"I've been thinking, we schould get a lot of knives. An aschortment of knives."

"Oh, yeah, absolutely."

"We need the right knives for the right occasions. Every knife scherves its own purposch."

"And a sword, of course."

"Two schwords! One for you, one for me."

"Three swords. We'll have to keep one by the door, in case of intruders."

"Yeah! It's a bad neighborhood, who knows what could happen."

They lock eyes. They nod. Magnus signals for the clerk.

They've just pulled onto the highway and an awful staticky death metal band is blasting over the radio when Magnus turns the volume down and says, "We should have a special dinner. To celebrate the move."

"Dude, grosch," Murderface, whose lap is currently full of knives, replies. "That's gay."

"I'm gay? You're holding a rainbow knife."

"Uh, it'sch called an oil-spill butterfly knife? It'sch limited edition?"

"Whatever, man. It doesn't have to be anything fancy. We can get steak or something. Champagne."

"Gaaaay."

"The champagne makes the lease-required dick-sucking easier, William. You'll thank me later."

Viscerally disgusted, Murderface stabs Magnus' dashboard with his newly-acquired limited-edition oil-spill butterfly knife. "Eugh, just don't call me that while you're talking about dick-sucking! You're really grosching me out."

"Whatever you say, honey."

"Hammersmith--"

Magnus turns up the radio, rolls down the window to let the wind blow in. Murderface watches him tuck his long hair behind his ear, then stabs his dashboard once more, for good measure.

They are standing in a grocery store looking at the meat cabinet. It's all very red, and fleshy, and if you think about it, it should be brutal-- a cabinet of dismembered body parts, ruthlessly torn apart, laid out like inanimate objects to be purchased for money and consumed by strangers. Brutal. And yet…

"I don't like it," Murderface declares.

Magnus is frowning at an array of whole fish. "Hm."

"It's jusch lame or something." Murderface rams his fist against the glass. "Whatsch the point of eating meat if you don't even get to kill the animal first? It's fucking bullschit!"

"Hm," Magnus repeats himself. "What about that?"

He points towards a door leading to the back room. Through it they can see a large, steel table, and on top of it is a full half of a pig, skinned and ready for butchering.

"Yeah…" Murderface says slowly, "That's pretty schick."

"You," Magnus snaps at the clerk behind the counter, "We'll take that one. Yes, that one, in the room back there…"

… Ten minutes and a great deal of haggling later, they're pushing half a pig in a cart down the cheese aisle.

"My roommate in college was a law guy," Magnus is explaining. "He went to a lot of fancy events. Showed me the ropes."

"Did you suck his hog?"

"The secret is in the cheese. You have to get the right cheese, and… olives."

Murderface leers at the cheeses before them. "This one looksch fancy," he says, grabbing a package at random.

"Good, get a hard one as well."

"We're in a groschery store, Hammerschmith, that's not appropriate."

"You know," Magnus says quite calmly, "One of these days, I am going to stab you."

Murderface grabs another package at random and throws it on top of the pig carcass. "Oh I bet you'd like that. Schtickin' things in guys."

"William," Magnus lays a hand on Murderface's shoulder. "You're fixated on my sexuality because you're insecure about yours. I get that, and I just want you to know, as a friend, that I don't mind if you're gay."

Murderface smacks his hand away. "Ughh! Don't try your shrink-school bullschit on me!"

"I fully support you and your rainbow knives."

"Shut up! What elsch do we need, olives?"

They're stopped at a gas station while Magnus fills up his truck. Murderface is standing in the wine section selecting only the finest gas station champagnes for their housewarming dinner. Which is some bullshit, now that he thinks about it. What the fuck even is champagne? Bubbly wine, right? Maybe they can just drop an alka-seltzer into a carton of Franzia. That's probably easier than trying to read the French gibberish on the labels of all these bottles.

Murderface has a carton of Franzia on his shoulder and is heading for the medicinals section when he catches sight of something truly marvelous.

There, by the door, stands a glass display cabinet. And contained within that cabinet…

"What is that?" Magnus asks, when Murderface returns to the truck.

"Behold," says Murderface, with eminent pride, "A gnife!"

Like a modern bayonet, the 'knife' is, in fact, a very small pistol, with a knife's blade inexpertly welded to the barrel. He waves it in the air so that Magnus can get a proper look.

"Damn," Magnus breathes. "That's pretty cool."

"Right?"

"I don't care for guns myself, but even I can admit-- cool."

"It's scho fucking cool."

"Where's the champagne?"

"I figured we'll just throw a little alka-seltzer in thisch boxed wine. Trailer park champagne."

"Fine, fine. Get in, let's go."

"Hold on. I didn't pay for your gasch--"

"Get in the fucking truck, William!" Magnus yells.

William hurls himself into the passenger seat, landing uncomfortably atop their pile of newly-acquired knives, and Magnus peels out of the parking lot before the cops can show.

They're back in their apartment. They've laid the pig carcass out on the card table Nathan's parents have loaned them, and Magnus is holding a samurai sword.

"Come on!" Murderface urges, hitting his fists on the edge of the table. "Cut it already!"

"Give me time," Magnus growls. He's fixated on the carcass, his eyes are wide, pupils blown with excitement. "An artist's cuts must be… precise."

"Well, be preciser faster!" Murderface complains. "I wanna see a pig get fucked up!"

"Silence, grasshopper. Watch and learn… the way of the warrior!"

With one rapid stroke, Magnus brings the sword down, fast and hard, across the pig's torso. There's a loud meaty thwack. The sword is embedded a couple of inches into jiggly pig flesh.

"Shit!" Magnus yells. "The fucking sword isn't sharp!"

"Magnus, Magnus," Murderface says soothingly, sidling over to Magnus, gently nudging him aside. "Go get yourself some wine, let the blade-maschter handle this one." He eases Magnus' hands off of the sword's handle, takes it in his own firm grasp.

Grumbling, Magnus lets himself be pushed aside. "It's a problem with the blade," he complains. "My technique was perfect. Perfect!"

"It's not a problem with your technique, it's brute schtrength that matters the most." Murderface wrenches the sword out of the pig and raises it high above his head. "Watch and learn, Hammersmith!"

He rams the sword as hard as he possibly can into the pig carcass' neck.

The entire card table buckles and collapses.

"Brute strength," Magnus echoes, observing the pile of plastic and pig meat before them. He's already poured himself another solo-cup of shitty white wine.

Murderface stares at the wreckage for a few seconds. "Schwords not sharp!" he yells. "The fucking schword's not sharp!"

"Want some cheese?"

"Fuck yes, fuck this schtupid pig! Where's my butterfly knife? I'm cuttin' some bacon…"

Magnus and Murderface sit on opposite sides of their freshly-scavenged sofa in their brand new apartment and watch infomercials on their cracked TV. There is a pile of knives and swords in-between them.

"Pasch me some cheese," Murderface says.

Magnus drives the point of the knife in his hand through a block of cheese and holds it out to Murderface. Murderface skewers it on his own knife.

A man on the TV is talking about the virtues of humidifiers. Magnus has used his technical wizardry to plug one of their amps into the TV, so they have sound now.

"This guysch a fuckin' idiot," Murderface announces through a mouthful of cheese. "Who needs a humidifier in fuckin' Florida?"

"As if my hair isn't ruined enough," Magnus agrees, idly stabbing the arm of the sofa.

"I thought gay guys liked big hair."

"You're thinking of glam rockers. Also, William, I'm getting pretty tired of the gay jokes."

"Hittin' a nerve, am I?"

"If you have feelings for me, sort that shit out yourself. Or at least get a new joke. You're boring the hell out of me."

Murderface bites the tip of his cheese-knife and watches Magnus through narrowed eyes.

Magnus is staring boredly at the infomercial, ramming his knife into the sofa's arm with precise rhythm. When he's not having his notorious violent outbursts, he's actually quite cool and aloof, taking every affront with casual nonchalance. It's only those who have known him for a long time, such as Murderface, who know that below the artificial calmness lies a simmering rage liable to explode at any moment. Murderface has depended on Magnus since he left his grandparents' home; Murderface has seen Magnus flip out at waitresses without warning and throw chairs through diner windows. He is Murderface's idol. He's a ticking time-bomb.

And now they've moved to Florida together, and they're renting an apartment together, and no matter what Magnus says, it really does feel kind of gay.

Murderface picks up a random knife from their pile and starts ramming it into the sofa's arm, matching the timing of it with Magnus' stabbing.

They sit there for a while, each stabbing their respective sofa arms in peaceful synchronicity.

Murderface feels Magnus glance over at him. He stabs the sofa with a little more force.

"Hey," Magnus says in a low voice. Suddenly a piece of paper lands on his lap, with 'LEASE' written at the top. No instruction needed, Murderface stabs it.

A few minutes later, Murderface pulls off his vest and throws it to Magnus' side of the couch. Magnus balls it up and stabs it.

On Magnus' turn, he throws a whole block of cheese onto Murderface's lap. Murderface puts it on the sofa's arm and proceeds to stab the absolute shit out of it. By the time he's done he's practically reduced it to paste.

Magnus has been watching him all the while, ramming his hunting knife idly again and again into the sofa cushion beside his leg. Murderface can't think of anything else to throw at him, so--

"Schtab me," Murderface says.

Magnus looks mildly surprised. And he waits only a moment before leaning over and stabbing Murderface firmly in the top of the thigh.

"Holy schit!" Murderface shouts. "Fuck! Shit! Goddammit!" He clamps his hands over the wound-- blood wells out from them immediately-- he presses down hard, hissing with pain. "Fuckin' schit, Magnus!"

"Oh, grow up," says Magnus dismissively.

"You fuckin' schtabbed me!"

"There's a first aid kit in the truck. Here are my keys."

"Fuck. You aschole."

The sofa is covered in knives and blood. Murderface is drunk off of his ass on cheap wine and alka-seltzer, pantsless, sitting on a camp chair in the kitchen of his brand new apartment. Magnus is on the ground between Murderface's knees, holding a lighter in one hand and a sewing needle in the other.

"You schure you know how to do this?" Murderface slurs.

"Of course I do," Magnus says. His elbow is resting on Murderface's un-stabbed thigh, his gaze is focused on the needle he's currently heating with the lighter.

"Yeah? Schince when?"

"I dated an EMT for three months."

"What was his name?"

Magnus puts down the lighter and picks up a packet of dental floss from the floor. Brow wrinkled with concentration, he bites off a long length of it, then threads it through the eye of the needle. Then he drops the dental floss and picks up a handle of vodka. "William?"

"What."

"Don't be a little bitch."

The pain is excruciating. It's like his entire thigh has been set on fire and is being ripped apart from the inside by a thousand hell rats from hell (fuck, good song idea.) Murderface bites down on one of his own wrists, and then buries his other hand in Magnus' hair, clutching a handful of thick curly locks. His eyes water and the tears shatter the world into kaleidoscope-colours until he squeezes them shut; when he opens them again he sees the top of Magnus' head between his own bare and bloody thighs and he's wracked with pain and the sight is delusionally sublime.

Fuck.

Maybe there is something to that shrink-school bullcrap. Murderface just let a man stab him. Is that gay? Is he gay for letting his roommate stab him and then stitch him back up? When this is done he's going to have to do some real self-inspection, or whatever it's called.

Whatever, he's getting stitched back together in his own brand new apartment. Way more metal than having some doctor do it, and Murderface is no stranger to stabbings or their aftermath. He lets himself moan in pain, leaning back in the chair. He tilts his head back, whimpers, readjusts his grip on Magnus' hair. Fucking brutal. It's like a war movie. Like one of those civil war soldiers before they invented medicine. Every stroke of the needle vibrates through his core like heavy bass.

And suddenly-- it's over, too soon it's over. Did he black out? Magnus is standing in front of him, his bare chest covered in blood, wiping his hands on his trousers. Murderface glances down and sees his bare, pudgy thigh, likewise blood-stained, with a small stab-wound in one criss-crossed by uneven stitches.

"You're alright," Magnus says reassuringly.

Murderface struggles to sit upright. "Yeah…" he chokes out. "… Schit, that's a good knife. That's fucking scharp."

"I told you. Classic hunting knife. Can't go wrong." Magnus takes a swig of the vodka, then thoughtlessly wipes his mouth. A diluted streak of pinkish blood is left across his cheek. "Can you stand?"

"Uh, give me a schecond." Murderface feels woozy. He feels very warm. He wants Magnus to stab him again. He needs another cup of wine.

"Just hurry up," says Magnus, turning away. "That samurai cowboy guy is on and I need to write down the number."

"Yeah…" Murderface sighs, slumping back in his chair. "Yeah, sure, write it down for me, too…"

It is their first night in their new apartment. Everything is covered and blood, there is a pig carcass in the centre of their kitchen, and they just know they're going to make it big.

#my fic #william murderface #magnus hammersmith #metalocalypse #don't even ask tbh

22 notes · View notes