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#not ready and might not ever be. this is war kid

notherpuppet · 3 months

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I wrote the full parody to Ready For This in the Role Reversal AU because I wanted to lol.

Transcription below.

Ready For This (Role Reversal AU parody)

Alastor: Have you ever wanted something That was so clear in your mind that you could taste it?  Susan: You mean like ice cream you get for a friend?  Alastor: Ha! No. It's a feeling like a rumbling in your gut That you could finally be faced with A million greedy faces, I guess what I mean to say is  For the first time in my life I might have to be ready for this Ready to be the one who's leading from the front  Couldn’t do it on my own And history has shown Legends cannot win wars alone  The burden is a bit too heavy So I need to be ready for this  Have you ever felt like you're willing to kill To save the people on your own team?  Susan: I don’t know, seems a bit extreme…  Alastor: Not to me! 'Cause right now, we need a leader And it seems to be that Charlie is forcing me to be that because she’s pissy  So who's with me?  Wouldn't it just be swell to see more of Hell? Join up now if you like travel Come on girls, prepare for battle! Lotta sights to see en route to the hotel Not to mention all of the glory!  Yes indeed, your enemies will cower

And heads will be severed!  Charlie: You’ll make a bunch of brand new friends!  Alastor: Whatever.  Exorcists: New friends!? I'm in Oh whoa I’m so lonely  It's time now to act They're on the attack When they move to strike Just know we’ve got your back!  We'll follow your lead We're eager to see everyone we meet On the hellish retreat!  From this moment on, you can count us in To be organized and disciplined  Our thirst for justice keeps us strong, fierce, and brave So I say, "Ho hey! Let’s join in his crusade!"  Alastor: Now thats the spirit! Can we amp it up? Vaggie: Oh, don’t mind their hesitation, that’s just their new inclination

 Alastor: But I can awaken their bloodlust! Vaggie: Careful, kid. Don’t push your luck!

Alastor: Fair enough…  Alastor and Vaggie: We're super duper grateful To have you gals aboard  Exorcists: We can’t wait to hug an overlord! (Alastor: Yeah, sure...)  Alastor: For the first time in my life Maybe I can be ready for this I can be the marshal leading the parade  I can come into my own And I think I've always known My destiny could never be postponed  When they come for the hotel

I’ll give em hell cuz I’m ready for this!  Vaggie: They're dancing along? They're singing his song!? Charlie: Surprised? Why, I knew he could do it all along!  Charlie and Vaggie: He’s bound to be redeemed, the dream has a chance! Though he seemed hopeless at first glance…  Charlie: He’s filled with potential that I could guide! Vaggie: Fine, I’m in.  Charlie and Vaggie: Stick with him, he will surely see the light!  All: For the first time in our lives We know that we are ready for this  Vaggie: We’ll show them we can forgive and forget!  All: It's time to lend a hand  Alastor: It is time to take a stand! (Exorcists: Woohoo!) Against overlords and their deadly threat!  All: We can provide your support The time has come to stop a war Defend your home, we're ready for... THIS!  Alastor: I really hope that they’re ready for this...

#hazbin hotel #shitpost #omg thank u for being nice to me in the replies n tags u guys r cute🥹#role reversal au

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wingedhallows · 3 months

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i was a kid ; harry potter

pairing: harry potter characters ( no particular pairing ) | 0.6k words plot: molly seems to forget that war happened before prompt: "i was a kid" authors note: i love molly, really, but i've alway wanted to yell at her in that one scene in order of the phoenix. so, here u go (also the dialogue isn't accurate to the movie)

navigation

Your hand clasped the cup of firewhiskey for dear life. It’s been fifteen years, yet it felt harder than before. You were ready to fight and give your life just like fifteen years ago you’re ready to do that again, of course, but your body reacted differently. Your mind was plagued, plagued with nightmares, with images of death and so much more.

You were on the edge when Lily and James died, when Sirius was locked up for something he didn’t do. All of that just swam around in your head once more, while you sat at this table.

“There’s something coming, something bigger.” Sirius spoke. Your hands began to become clammy, your eyes closed as you kept quiet. You knew that he was back, stronger than ever. You knew what that meant, of course.

“Then I want to be a part of it, I want to fight.” Harry spoke, chair squeaking as he leant over.

You were seated between Sirius and Harry. Your breath quickened. You were just like him in the past. Impulsive, you all were. You had sprung to your feet that night, a smile on your face as you almost begged Albus to make you a member.

You wished he had turned you away. Harry on the other side needed to be a member, he was the prime target, you’d protect him. Those kids were in danger and if you could protect them you would.

“There you have it.” Sirius spoke. Your breathing began to speed up, if more was possible right now, your hands held the cup so tightly you might dent it.

The anger cursed through you as Molly huffed and protested. Your head became light, as you pressed your eyes shut. They weren’t there when it all came together, when members died left and right. “Y/N.” You could hear Remus, his eyes on you.

“Enough, they’re just kids.” Molly interrupted and that was just too much. You scoffed, a chuckle leaving your mouth.

“Kids.” You said, face in a sour snarl.

You lifted yourself off the chair and looked at the people in the room. Your eyes focused on Molly.

“You think Voldemort cares if they’re kids?” You said, the room uncomfortably quiet.

He hadn’t cared then either.

“You think just because they’re kids, they won’t be murdered?”

Molly frowned at you and placed a hand on your arm, you shook her off.

“Y/N, please.” Your face held nothing but disgust.

“This is war, Molly. People die when they don’t know shit, they get murdered. No matter if they’re kids or not” Molly sighed and tried to get a hold of you.

“They’re just kids, they shouldn’t have-”We were kids too!”

You said, a bit louder. No one said anything, too stunned by your outburst.

“I was a kid.”

You whispered as a tear made its way down your face, features twitching in sorrow. “I was a kid when war struck.” You paused to bring a hand to your chest, eager to stop your heaving.

“I was a kid when I was tortured. When-When My friends were murdered, when Sirius was locked up for something one of us betrayed us for, when all hell broke loose.” Molly gasped, hand grabbing at a chairs rest.

Your eyes found hers as you gulped, pushing the emotions back. Sirius and Remus looked at you, tears in their eyes. It had struck all three of you, so hard, all those years ago.

“So don’t tell me they’re just kids.” You paused before grabbing your cup and chugging the rest of your firewhiskey down.

“It doesn’t matter what age you are when war strikes.”

#harrypotter #hp fanfic #marauders era #marauders imagine #the marauders #sirius black #sirius black x reader #harry potter fanfic #harry potter angst #harry potter x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #the order of the phoenix #order of the phoenix #post azkaban sirius #sirius black angst

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blue-sadie · 11 months

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Parents Love

Jake Sully x Daughter Reader x Neytiri

Summary: based off this post

Warning: reader held hostage, reader death

Yn pov

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart as I stared up at Quaritch. He had a knife to my throat that was slightly pressured almost slicing into my skin.

but all I could think about was how much trouble I was in and how worried my parents must be.

I had always known that my family was different from the rest of the Na'vi i mean my father in toruk makto he has many allies and enemies.

My parents, Jake Sully and Neytiri, were powerful warriors who had fought and won battles for the good of our people.

But I never imagined that I would find myself in the middle of a war too.

Quaritch was holding me hostage, and my parents were outside, trying to find a way to save me.

I could see the fury in dads's eyes as he stared back at Quaritch, ready to fight for me.

"You hurt a single hair on her body," he said, his voice low and menacing.

"I will personally take much pleasure in torturing you till your last breathe."

Quaritch laughed, pressing the knife closer to my throat, I could feel the sharp edge digging into my skin, and I knew that one wrong move could mean the end of me.

But my parents didn't back down. They stood their ground, ready to protect their family at all costs.

They were ready to face Quaritch head-on. The ground shook beneath us as my parents fought with all their might, determined to save me from Quaritch's grip.

In the end, it was my mother who managed to get the upper hand. She lunged towards Quaritch, her movements swift and powerful.

The knife flew out of his hand as he stumbled back but not without him slicing a bit deeper into my neck.

I fell into my parents' arms, tears streaming down my face as I clung onto them tightly.

It was over now but it was all starting come to an end "ma yn" mom screamed putting her hands on my neck to keep the wound pressured.

"M-mom" I whimpered trying to push her away "no no stay with me kid" dad murmured and heaved me onto his shoulder making me cry out in pain.

"You have to stay with me" he yelled running to his ikran to get home to mo'at "oh eywa please" mom screamed pleading and begging for eywa not to take me.

"D-dad" I whined as little black dotes started to fill my vision it was coming to an end "y-yes my b-baby" for the first time ever I saw a tear run down my father's cheek.

"d-dont cry" I whispered weakly dragging my hand to his face wiping it away "I-I'll be o-ok" and with that I glanced at my parents one last time before taking my final breath.

'I am with eywa'.

Tag.List

@mrs-sullys-blog

@dreamsholdpowers

#avatar #avatar pandora #avatar way of water #avatar x reader #avatar angst #avatar x reader angst #reader death #jake sully #jake sully angst #jake sully x daughter reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader angst #jake sully x daughter reader angst #neytiri #neytiri angst #neytiri x daughter reader #neytiri x reader #neytiri x reader angst #neytiri x daughter reader angst

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phoenixyfriend · 9 months

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Hey have a fun AU I came up with the other day after reading a bunch of fics with related tropes

It's a raised Sith AU. Anakin was found by Sidious well before he was found by Qui-Gon. He was raised by the Sith, is a classically horrible monster stalking about TCW to be Vader (mask and all, just as an intimidation factor instead of life support) while Ventress and Grievous and Dooku do their own things in a different section of the war. He's got a Really Fucking Weird dynamic with Obi-Wan, mostly attempting to kill him etc.

At some point, Palpatine allows Anakin and Padme to meet. The romance that blooms is one that Sheev decides is useful to him, so he lets it happen.*

Padme gets pregnant. Sidious arranges for her death. Anakin loses his entire shit and tries to kill Sidious. Obi-Wan is off trying to save Padme, unaware of Anakin getting his remaining limbs cut off by his this-universe Master. (This is important, because Anakin does remember Obi-Wan trying to save Padme.)

So we have Anakin, who was raised Sith, and just lost the only things that have mattered to him since his mom died when he was a kid, and Palpatine has pushed him further into the Dark than he ever has. Anakin… knows more about the Sith Secrets in this universe.

Anakin finds a Sithly Time Machine. Maybe on Malachor. There's an owl? Whatever.

Anakin, someone who's been Vader for the vast majority of his life, wakes up at age nine. Maybe even younger, like six. His mother is already dead at Sidious's hands. He's already roommates with Maul. He's already being trained as a baby Sith.

Anakin, being a 20 year old war veteran, is much better at escaping than Sidious has planned for. He reprograms a medical droid to take out his slave chip, steals a ship, etc. All the stuff that Maul wasn't very good at, and Anakin was too young for, so Sidious didn't have the preventative measures in place for yet.

Anakin heads for the one place and person he thinks he can trust: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(Obi-Wan is still a padawan. But this Baby Sith just declared him Adoptive Teen Dad, so.)

@lizasweetling (all indented bits from here will be hers):

Because Sith. Bad for mental health of the user and generally bad for their environs But also baby. And if hes dragging Maul around no doubt the dude is constantly himself confused why he is here Like yeah, Sidious sucked, and this 6-9yo is way powerful and knowledgeable on the dark side (?????) But why are we going to the Jedi? And not even trying to kill them apparently?????

Anakin is very much being affected by Baby Brain and Baby Endocrine System. He cries a lot more than he should.

I WASN'T THINKING OF HIM BRINGING MAUL BUT YEAH. THAT'S. THAT'S A POSSIBILITY.

Jedi Council trying to decide if this is more "Adult Sith got shrunk" or "child got evil man's memories." Vader wants to know why it even MATTERS. (He didn't actually plan on telling them, but he has very little self control right now.)

The first Good Act he does is tell them where to find Ventress and Ky. (In the original timeline, he viewed Ventress as like. Cool older cousin.)

Vader's right, that distinction does not matter Aaaw, she deserves that, that's nice Maybe she will be like 20% less homocidally traumatized

Anakin is furious when Maul and Obi-Wan pick him up under one arm like a package. He is a GROWN MAN he is an ADULT he was a SITH LORD and about to be a FATHER, he is TOO OLD FOR THIS.

They point out that he is Baby.

😂 sorry lord of evil, you're too baby, have a nap and maybe your feel better. Assuming the crisis on Naboo is still happening, and as such the vote of no confidence is right now, it might be a great time to report Sidious as a Sith lord. Post-escape from Sidious, both he and Maul definitely will need a nap. It's that kinda place.

Oh, it's probably at least a year before. Anakin keeps trying to sneak off to kill the man himself, but the Jedi are more ready for his Sneaking than Mustafar was, so he keeps getting caught before he can reach the Senate.

At one point he tries to just CHARGE the place and you get Mace and Obi-Wan sprinting after him. The News captures videos of this very small child getting chased by an older Padawan and a Master and they are mostly yelling for him to PUT DOWN THE SABER.

(Sidious might see him but what's he going to do? Might cause too many problems for Sidious to be aware of Anakin's presence with the Jedi, though. Best not.)

It's probably more expensive on average to hire an assassin on a child, just in general But on a jedi youngling??? If he can even find someone to do that, it will be so very, ridiculously expensive And likely 70%+ upfront payments

Ahsoka definitely seeks him out. Toddler baby child. She adores him for reasons unclear to anyone and everyone.

!!! Baby has baby!! Vader's probably a little thrown by this. Been a while subjectively since someone just loved him. And not even for like, a reason. Baby Vader coerced into sitting obediently for nap by tired kiddo: [The council liked that]

The number of times that vader could only be convinced to nap by Obi-Wan grabbing him, caging him in his own lap, and forced to Sit Quietly until he just fell asleep like that...

He has things to do, he's not tired 😡😡😡💢 (He's 9. Distances are between 150 and 195% longer when measured with steps, he's hungry (subjectively) all the time, and has only middling coordination He so is too tired)

Anakin doesn't know Qui-Gon at all but he keeps getting stuffed into the man's top because he's just. Small enough to fit.

Like the bomb boobs gif, but it's a small child.

the indignity

You just. You can't let him get too self-important.

Vader is Disgusted every time the pediatric healers try to talk down to him like they do to other 6yos.

The difference between this and other "Vader goes back in time to the Jedi" AUs (like Force of Many Sights) is that this Vader has never been a Jedi, and doesn't know anything about them except how they fight when he's trying to kill their friends.

Also Maul's there.

Because even he has a hard time taking himself seriously when hes so easy to manhandle Rest of the time; I am fear, I am death personified As luggage child: I am so small. The tiniest. I crave violence He's probably very annoyed they keep taking away his saber And hey! Obi gets practice not losing his! Woooo!

Something something Anakin clinging to Maul's back (piggy back ride) and chewing on his head or something stupid like that. Perfect height for head biting.

You know, the classic anime head bite

Maul probably has been nominally talked into this because this 9yo is a powerful darksider But he is also the world's most annoying tiny kid Maul would've thought his phenotype would make him immune to this ridiculousness He was wrong At least the teeth are a bit less pointy than his other little brothers'? Appreciating the little things

tfw your unwanted little brother drags you to what you think is a cult but actually they're way less culty than your last two places so you just stick around to keep an eye on the little shit

Anyway. ObiMaul for this one.

They're peers They're tired They just want to sit down and not have to chase this weird little murder child They have a lot in common 😊

They are all just a little bit stupid, I love them.

Qui-Gon is a Cool Mom (throws condoms at them and books it).

Yeah, that's about as much involvement as would be appreciated They probably did a lot of sparring before the tension broke Which did not relieve said tension, generally made it worse (Competence, athleticism, sweat-) Vader is confused, but probably doesn't mind He's probably glad they're distracting each other from stopping assassinating a certain someone (Which- that is 9yo hubris. He would need help to do that)

I still can't decide where on 6yo-9yo he falls but somewhere in there

Babies means easier hiding in shirt, teenie Ahsoka, and longer for him to convince the Jedi council to do a Sith hunt before the Naboo situation

Also longer for Maul and Obi-Wan to faff about being all Tension

* Vaguely inspired by the backstory of Rulebreaker/Wildheart, which is great but significantly more of a romance fic than this.

#anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #maul #darth maul #obimaul #obi wan and anakin #anakin and obi wan #ahsoka tano #time travel #de aging #star wars #phoenix posts

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rogueddie · 2 years

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Playing dumb has always made everything so much easier for Steve. He'd first noticed it as a kid, when he'd gotten bored with his math homework. He'd played dumb, even used a little waterworks, and his babysitter had cracked like an egg. She'd done almost half of his homework for him.

He'd always been a fast learner too. Whenever he felt like he was actually falling behind, he very easily and quickly caught up... well, outside of the months surrounding Upside Down 'events'. It's hard to concentrate with all of that rattling around his brain.

It's why he kind of hates Eddie.

It had taken a long time for the kids to finally bully him into playing D&D with them. And, as loathe as he is to admit it, he's enjoying himself. But the more he gets into the game, the more he forgets that he's not supposed to be this good.

Eddie noticed almost immediately. He'd quickly made it a rule that no one can help Steve. Insisted that Steve's perfectly capable of playing on his own, that he can keep up.

It makes him feel more seen than he ever has. It feels like Eddie can see straight through any act he tries to throw out, smirks like Steve is telling a funny joke whenever he takes his time to try and make it look like he's struggling. Like Eddie can see him.

And, of course, he brings it up one day. He waits until the kids have rushed up to the Wheelers kitchen for food, a gentle hand on Steves arm to stop him immediately following after the kids to play babysitter.

"Why do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know what." Eddie raises an eyebrow, challenging.

Steve hesitates for a moment. Eventually, just shrugs. "It's easier. Got me this far. Always been better than the alternative."

"You hang out with gays and nerds, Harrington. You're in the alternative. You can drop the act. No ones gonna judge you. Not with us."

"I don't know, Dustin might disown me."

Eddie laughs, tugging at his own hair almost playfully. "He'll just be mad he didn't guess sooner. Ignore him. You're allowed to enjoy things."

Steve shakes his head. Doesn't make any promises but... he does start spending more time with Eddie. Alone. And they talk about everything together. From Star Wars theories to D&D strategies.

He's not ready to drop the act, not by any means. It still works so perfectly for him and the idea of anyone really knowing him now makes him feel painfully uncomfortable. He likes being the idiot.

But, sitting with Eddie, just the two of them? It's easy. It feels right. He knows that Eddie isn't judging him. Knows that Eddie secretly loves knowing Steve better than everyone else. Although, Steve is pretty sure he'd tell Eddie anything if they could keep having more alone time together.

Maybe being smart can make this thing he has with Eddie easier. It makes a nice change.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #ficlet #stevecentric

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mcflymemes · 2 months

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PROMPTS FROM LIFE IS STRANGE, SEASON 1 * assorted dialogue, suggested by ismelodrama, adjust as necessary

everything is a picture waiting for be taken.

you're just jealous of me because i actually do the things you can't.

are you hiding something?

i'm sick of your disrespect. tell me the truth!

i don't want to fight with you anymore. i don't want to fight with anyone anymore.

i was eating those beans!

how the hell did you know about that photo?

always take the shot. my number one rule of photography.

you just don't listen, do you?

there's something weird going on with you.

you've only been here for three weeks and you're already causing conflict.

after this week, you are certainly not a little kid anymore.

not now. i'm contemplating shit.

are you fucking kidding me? this is major bullshit!

i didn't have all the evidence at the time.

we all make decisions we regret.

i'm not gonna make any excuses for my behavior.

i'd put stephen hawking against picasso any day.

it sucks to be dragged into the spotlight.

nobody believes me anyway.

you're exactly the kind of soldier i'd want by my side in a war.

why the hell not?

i almost asked you to hang out.

you should have asked me.

maybe we're too much alike.

i don't believe anything you say. you're full of shit.

eat a dick, [name].

i'll be in the tardis getting my delorean ready.

since you're the mysterious superhero... i'll be your faithful chauffeur and companion.

you don't know who the fuck i am or who you're messing around with.

where'd you get that? what are you doing? come on, put that thing down!

don't ever tell me what to do! i'm so sick of people trying to control me!

so you can't help me?

i told you before that i'll always believe you.

i may be a pest but... i'm a good listener.

you're the bravest person i've ever known.

for every action, there's a reaction.

i'm trying. but you have to understand my position.

i know i can be a pain in the ass... and you've always treated me like a person, not a beta nerd.

why do you want all your friends to die?

oh i see. i'm not important to you anymore.

nobody lectures me. everybody tries though.

do not analyze me! i pay people for that.

hey, that's total slander!

you don't know shit about my father, or me.

you're all fucked!

everybody hates me.

[name]... it's me. i just wanted to say i'm sorry.

i truly am sorry for being such a bastard.

you would have been cool to hang out with.

you might as well choose me.

i'm not perfect, okay?

you have talent, [name].

you don't have to push people out of your way.

thanks for admitting again that i have some talent.

do you think it's, like, fate we're not supposed to be friends?

nobody says we have to be friends.

everybody lies. no exceptions.

i came for all of you.

i'm in a nightmare and i can't wake up.

no wonder they call it a "web." nothing can ever get out.

i wish i could go back in time and erase everything.

just tell me you do have the photograph.

now shut up and listen.

i'm not a real scientist.

i was just happy just being your friend.

[name], i'm so sorry you had to go through all that.

i don't think i can concentrate on going out to the movies.

everybody pretends to care until they don't.

even angels need angels, [name].

i might be naive, but i feel their struggle.

why did you stop me from jumping?

this shit pit has taken everyone i've ever loved.

when a door closes, a window opens... or something like that.

i keep going back in time.

how could there be a more important moment in history?

thank you for trusting me.

hey... be careful out there.

what kind of friend are you?

you never understood me, or what happened to me.

i'll always be alone, thanks to you.

just in case we don't get out of this...

i'm going to make the right choices from now on.

i've been feeling like this might be actually the end of the world.

i hate to say that i'm glad to see you, but i'm glad to see you.

i wish i could stay in this moment forever... but then it wouldn't be a moment.

if that tornado came right now, i would just sit here and watch for a while.

i just feel like escaping.

i have total faith that you'll do the right thing when the time comes.

with great power comes great bullshit.

am i pushing myself too hard?

you like to hurt people, huh?

i'm glad you decided to escort me.

i know this is a bad time, but can i get one picture?

of course i believe you. you're the most amazing person i've ever met, and i'm glad you trust me.

i don't have a fucking clue what's going on.

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sukifoof · 5 months

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HI WATCH OUT FOR UNDERTALE YELLOW SPOILERS . ANYWAY

watched the ut yellow neutral end and ohhh i am losing my MIND... just. thinking about how flowey is only willing to move on in the true pacifist route. the route where he sees kindness and a genuine want to help others in a human child. asriel died to save humans because of the people he was surrounded with. toriel asgore and chara are people who feel very strongly for those around them and he couldn't take human lives when the only human he knew was chara. a kid who cares enough about the people around them to sacrifice themself, just like the way his parents are.

flowey comments on toriel letting herself go because she cares so much and how we wouldn't have to feel so bad if we simply didn't care. his whole coping mechanism is distancing himself from others and Not Caring because if he allows himself to feel it'll just completely destroy him. he felt for the humans on the surface even when they were attacking him and the way he treats clover in neutral vs pacifist says a lot about his want to see good in others.

hes constantly pushing frisk to go with options that benefit everyone and while he worries about clover caring about those around him he seems to really appreciate it. at any moment he could just do whatever he wants with clover's life. the only route in which flowey allows them to make their own choices with their life is when they're being a good person and he just can't help but call them a friend because that's the type of person he's always wanted to be around. that's the type of person that's home to him!!

and i keep thinking about how he just couldn't let clover live out their life with toriel in the ruins. something something toriel trying to make up for feeling like she failed asriel and chara and flowey feeling replaced and clover being stuck in a small place for the rest of their life. i have thoughts on this that i don't know how to put into words but i'm not at all surprised flowey wasn't okay with that. of Course he wasn't. hes flowey. he has every issue ever. i think that allowing clover to live with toriel would make flowey feel like he really has to accept that he can't just go back to the past and he's not ready to come to terms with anything that's happened yet

flowey always insists he doesn't care and he can't feel as a result of his trauma but it's so clear from his regret and fondness for people who are compassionate that compassion is something he always strives for. even though he doesn't understand and can't understand it's always something he wants to see in others. it hurts to be compassionate and to love others and it's why he blocks it out but at the end of the day he's the same person who sacrificed himself and his sibling to save who knows how many people both in the underground and surface, and the same person who let go of what he believed to be the only way he could stay "himself" for the sake of freeing monsters.

he's such a fascinating character... his mind and heart are at war with each other and i love how undertale yellow goes into this with the way they portray how he reacts to clover's death in the pacifist route. "maybe you've earned your rest" and calling them a friend after trying to act tough... he really respects when others are truly kind despite what some might consider common sense. i don't know where i'm going with this anymore but i hope u guys get it. just imagine i am gripping ur shoulders and pointing at flowey frantically

#flowey #flowey the flower #asriel #asriel dreemurr #undertale yellow spoilers #undertale yellow #undertale #utdr #utdr analysis

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writingseaslugs · 1 year

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Diasomnia: Injured Reader

Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please do a quick read of THIS post.

Injured Reader Headcanons

Malleus Draconia

Malleus isn’t used to being injured at all. He had a very good upbringing with guards making sure nothing could hurt him. Not to say it never happens, but it doesn't happen often. Still, he studied healing magic in-depth and is pretty good at it. Injuries are just something he knows how to treat, but personally it isn’t something he deals with often.

Malleus nearly had a heart attack when you got injured. The small yelp you made had him on high alert as he rushed over to you. Last he had seen you, you were picking a flower. Did it have thorns? When you opened the palm of your hand, he realized what the cause was. A bee stinger stuck out of your hand. He’s going to make sure you’re not allergic before taking your hand and asking you how bad it hurts. He’s concerned and is ready to find the beehive and destroy it himself.

Whenever you get injured, the first thing he’s doing is using his magic to fix the problem. The immediate relief is always a needed thing and makes you feel better. However, he’s not going to end it like that. He’s now in his overprotective mode and will be carrying you to his room for a while. He wants to keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t get yourself hurt again. If you get hurt in his presence, he finds it as a personal failure on his end.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia is a veteran, and therefore has both had to heal his own serious injuries, as well as other people. Not to mention raising kids made him pretty used to dealing with small injuries. He’s good at what he does and knows far too many healing spells. If he ever got bored, he could open his own clinic and be the best doctor in Briar Valley. Not like he’s going to, but that’s how skilled he is.

Lilia at first couldn’t believe it when he watched you get injured. Then he found it all too amusing and had to stop himself from laughing. He had taken you to the beach and everything was fine, until you saw a jellyfish. Or so you thought it was just a jelly. Your intrusive thoughts convinced you that you needed to step on it, and that was your first mistake. It was a Man-O-War and you were in pain. Of course Lilia was concerned…but honestly he couldn’t stop laughing as well.

He’s going to heal you right up after assessing the injury. He doesn’t use his healing magic on anyone, so you’re a special exception. He’s also going to be giving you a kiss to make it all better, and then put on a plaster that has some stupid design. He’s still a father at the end of the day and a pretty goofy guy. Not to mention he adores how flustered you get, as well as your confusion as to why he put a Band-Aid on your cheek when you injured your foot.

Silver

Silver was used to injuries due to training. When working with swords, it was inevitable that someone was going to get injured at some point. Lilia had him train to use some basic healing spells for these occasions, as well as made sure he could treat them without magic. He normally never has to treat anyone else, but he has the skills to do so.

Silver at first didn’t realize you were injured. You two had fallen asleep on his bed and at some point, you rolled off the edge and landed right on your collar bone. You groaned in pain for a while until Silver finally registered that you might have broken something. He’s going to wake up pretty fast and feel a short adrenaline rush as he thinks the injury is more serious than it is.

If you get injured at night and try to assure him you’re fine, he’s not going to believe you and insist on getting it checked. Doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night, Lilia was probably awake and playing video games anyway. He will carry you all the way over to his father’s room and ask him to check on you. If you’re fine, then good news, you can go back to sleep or whatever you were doing. If not, then Lilia might use you as a practice dummy to help Silver improve healing magic. He’s going to apologize if it’s the latter and then take you back to his room for some much needed cuddles.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek, like Silver, has sustained a lot of injuries over the years. He also knows how to treat them, but not to the same degree. He’s a bit more clumsy and uses too much pressure when bandaging things up. He also tends to overthink things when using healing magic and then ends up ruining the spell. He still will try his hardest, but he isn’t the go-to guy.

Sebek felt horrible when you got injured, since it was kind of caused by him. You were reaching for a book on a high shelf when he called out to you. He was going to offer to grab it for you, but by that time you had kinda gotten a hold of it. His loud voice made you flinch and the book, which happened to be a very thick hardback, fell right on your head. This caused Sebek to scream your name and cause the ringing in your ears to worsen, but he was just worried and startled that you had gotten injured in the first place.

As an apology, he’ll carry you straight to the nurse. He would also offer to take you to the young master since he’s adept in healing magic, but it’s up to you. If you go to the nurse, he’s going to be by your side and probably have to be scolded by the nurse for being too loud when you have a head injury. He’ll take good care of you and talk in a gentle voice after… at least until you’re all better.

Beta Fishies: @epiphyllous, @mint-moushi

Are you a fan of Diasomnia like me? I bet you are if you read my content (we love the boys in this household). Want to support a visual novel that will feature Diasomnia dorm, has multiple routes and endings, as well as some spicy visual scenes? Check out @twstfournights and if you want info, check out their announcement post!

#Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST #TWST x Reader #TWST Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland Disney #TWST Disney #Malleus Draconia #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus x Reader #Lilia Vanrouge #Lilia Vanrouge x Reader #Lilia x Reader #Silver x Reader #TWST Silver #Twisted Wonderland Silver #Sebek Zigvolt #Sebek Zigvolt x Reader #Sebek x Reader

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 months

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Napoleonville [Chapter 4: The House Of Glass]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, koi fish, smoking, drinking, drugs, kids, parenthood, Willis Warning, impractical architecture, angst, Adventures With Aegon, historical topics including war and discrimination, let's all give a nice warm welcome to Christabel! 🥳

Word Count: 7.4k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

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It’s dawn, but you’ve already been up for hours. The sky turns from indigo to embers to flames to a cool, cloudless blue; mourning doves coo, goldfinches chirp, swamp rabbits gnaw on blades of grass glittering with dewdrops like diamonds. As the vanilla bean cake bakes in the oven, you go to Cadi’s room, sit on the edge of her bed, lay a hand lightly on the indistinct knoll that is your daughter curled up beneath her Rambo-themed blanket.

You murmur as she stirs awake: “Bonjour, ma cherie.”

Cadi rolls over, blinking groggily. You don’t call her this often. It’s something you picked up from Willis when you were married. You have a vision—sudden, jarring, though not entirely unwelcome—of him pacing back and forth with Cadi in his arms, one month old, 1 a.m., Willis humming some Cajun folk song to lull her to sleep. “Mom? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I called Cascade Stables, there’s a spot reserved for you.”

“What? Really?!” Her face glows, Christmas lights, the Fourth of July. “But you said…how…?”

You can’t take the credit. You won’t give it to Willis if it’s unearned. “Actually, Aemond offered to pay. So you don’t need to worry about anything. The house is fine, the car is fine. No need to sacrifice your birthday presents.”

Cadi sits upright and ponders you, enigmatic childish confusion. “Mom…is Aemond your boyfriend?”

Well, honey, at first he was just some stranger from a kinky personal ad and then he was a delicious distraction and now I fear I might be starting to want more from him, something not so temporary, something forbidden. But I don’t know who he is. “I don’t think it’s quite that serious yet,” you say instead. “Would you like for him to be around more?”

She shrugs, and you recognize it not as true reluctance but rather as feigned, self-preserving indifference. “Yeah. I mean, I guess so. He’s okay.” Then she adds: “What happened to his face?”

“I honestly don’t know. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“Maybe he was in a war,” Cadi says, glancing down at her Rambo blanket, Sylvester Stallone armed and stern and shirtless.

“Um, yeah, maybe.”

“Can I have cake for breakfast?”

“No, you cannot,” you say, smiling. “But you can have some of Amir’s leftover jambalaya that’s still in the fridge.”

“Fine.”

“Get up. Get ready. Amir should be here soon, once he can watch the cakes I’ll drive you to school.”

“If you let me stay home, I could help you bake.”

“You definitely wouldn’t help. You’d just spend eight hours playing that Nintendo.”

Cadi grins. “Probably.” Then she rolls out of bed and shuffles towards the kitchen over the creaking, sinking floor.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, what the fuck,” you hiss to yourself as you park behind Willis’ sheriff’s vehicle—a Plymouth Gran Fury—which just so happens to be towing a 20-foot jon boat. You step outside into glaring 90-degree sunshine, slam the door of your Chevy Celebrity, and jog into the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office. You are carrying a white bakery box full of cherry cobbler muffins.

“Hey sugar,” Willis drawls when he sees you. The holding cells are empty; the electric fans are whirring. Heather Locklear is simpering from where her poster is taped to the wall.

You throw the bakery box down onto his paper-strewn desk. “What the hell is that outside?”

“My new boat,” Willis says proudly. “Picked it up first thing this morning.”

“So you can get a new boat, but Cadi can’t go to horse camp?”

He throws his arms wide, exasperated. Men love to make a habit out of being exasperated by things that should be obvious. “She’s gonna get way more outta that boat than from spendin’ a week brushin’ horses! We’ll be fishin’ in it together ‘til she starts poppin’ out her own babies. If Lake Verret ain’t a puddle of oil by then. You know I’ve had three deputies resign in the past ten days? Three! I’m bleeding manpower. I can’t compete. With overtime, they can make twice as much workin’ security on the rigs.”

“I thought you voted for Reagan and his energy independence.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want them drillin’ in my neighborhood.” He flips open the box, grabs a muffin, and takes a huge, messy bite. Crumbs go flying everywhere.

“Well, Cadi is going to get to brush those horses after all,” you tell Willis. “She’ll be gone from June 24th to July 1st. Just so you know.”

His forehead crinkles as he chews. “Where’d you dig up a spare $300?”

He gave me $400, actually. “A friend offered to pay. Kind of embarrassing that they stepped up instead of you.”

Willis ignores this jab. It is uncharacteristically combative of you; but you’re hot, you’re exhausted, you have a splitting headache, you still have four cakes to finish before noon tomorrow. Sweat rolls in beads down the slope of your neck, the curve of your back. It will evaporate once you’re back outside again, once the sun bakes it off you like nightmares fade in daylight. “A friend, huh?” Willis is more fascinated than annoyed. He gnaws on his muffin, contemplating you. “The only friend I know of is Amir the Queer, and he ain’t got nothin’.”

He does; he’s just squirreling it all away for San Franscisco. “Don’t call him that. Don’t be a neanderthal.”

Willis’ thoughts are elsewhere. If not Amir, then who? Who? He asks, smirking: “You got a petit ami, sugar?”

A boyfriend, he means, a beau, a lover, a partner, a suitor. Do I? “No,” you decide. “No, he’s just a regular friend. Really.”

Willis chomps on his cherry cobbler muffin. His smirk stretches into a grin. “Sure he is.”

“Okay. You called and asked for muffins, and the muffins have been delivered. Now I gotta go. I have a hell of an order to finish for tomorrow. Which reminds me…” You take the folded piece of yellow legal pad paper out of your shorts pocket and open it to read the address of the Targaryen residence. “Where is 1066 Loch Raven Terrace? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Oh, that’s in a brand new development, real highfalutin, mansions and all. That’s where the Jade Dragon folks are livin’. You gotta go way down 401 towards Lake Verret. Turn onto Owlet, then Egret, then Loch Raven.”

You snatch a blue pen out of the mug on his desk—World’s Best Cop, it says—to scribble the directions down on your paper. “Great. Thanks. Why’d they name it that? We don’t even have ravens in Louisiana.”

“Maybe they got ‘em back in England and the Rockefellers want to feel right at home.”

You nod. This makes sense; this is a sufficiently egotistical explanation. You check the clock on the wall; it’s almost time to get Cadi from school. “You’re picking up Cadi tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah. ‘Round 8:00, as usual.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

Willis asks longingly, looking nowhere in particular: “Remember when we were gonna go to Mexico for our anniversary?”

“Yeah. And I remember when we didn’t.”

He shrugs, perhaps regretful, mourning some hypothetical versions of yourselves. “I got busy. I got lazy.”

“We would have ended up in the same place, Willis. It just might have taken longer.”

“Sure,” he mutters, but he doesn’t sound like he believes it. He’s reaching for his second muffin as you push through the glass door and step out into the sweltering afternoon sunlight.

Twenty minutes later, you’re rolling into your driveway: windows down, cicadas screeching, a flock of pelicans flapping by overhead, Cadi singing along to Jump by Van Halen. But when you cut the engine, you catch a glimpse of something strange in your rearview mirror. You have a visitor. He’s coasting down the driveway in his red Audi Quattro, displacing a grey wave of gravel. You and Cadi climb out of your Celebrity to greet him.

“Aemond?” you say, hands on your hips, a growing involuntary smile. You weren’t supposed to see him until Saturday night, until your talk about the future, a future you both disavowed before starting to get a taste for it. “What are you doing here?!”

“I only have a minute.” When he emerges from the Quattro, he’s dragging his neon teal duffle bag.

Cadi gasps. “More Nintendo games?!”

Aemond chuckles and shakes his head. “Sorry, not quite.”

Cadi groans dramatically and sprints off into the house, probably to devour an ungodly amount of baked goods.

“Don’t eat the Cap’n Crunch Treats!” you shout after her. “They’re for a customer!”

Aemond strolls over to you, wearing jeans, a white tank top, and his Adidas sneakers. His ever-present Marlboro jacket has been forgotten. His hair is a mess, he’s touching his chin restlessly; he really does look like he’s in a rush. “Hey,” he says softly, returning your smile.

You point to his duffle bag. “So you’re not here to tie me up.”

“Regrettably, no.”

“Cadi was really, really happy this morning to learn that you paid for horse camp.”

“I’m glad. Please don’t mention it again.” Aemond glances to his right and spies the alligator sunbathing a few yards away, a deep swampy green and fast asleep. “Oh, fuck!” He grabs your arm, pulls you to him, walks with you briskly towards the house. “You need to get that thing turned into a purse or shoes or something.”

You laugh. “She won’t go after you. She knows you’re bigger than she is.”

“I’m not going to take your word for it.”

In the living room, Aemond tosses his duffle bag on the couch, unzips it, and lifts out a Nikon F3 digital camera. Amir peeks out of the kitchen, flour and powdered sugar dusting his palms, his forearms, his cheeks. “What the…?”

“I need a white wall,” Aemond says distractedly, peering around. The living room walls are pink, the kitchen is mint green, Cadi’s room is yellow, the bathroom is a pale blue. Cadi watches as he darts around the small house, sitting at the kitchen counter and chomping on a ginger molasses cookie. Then Aemond snaps his fingers, remembering. He turns to you. “Your bedroom has white walls.”

“And of course he knows all about your bedroom,” Amir says.

“Come with me,” Aemond orders you.

“Okay…?”

“Cadi too.”

You and Cadi follow Aemond into the bedroom, Amir trotting close behind to satisfy his curiosity. Aemond shows Cadi where to stand against the wall, in a spot where the lighting is good, no shadows, no cracks in the paint, no paintings or photographs. He raises the Nikon and gazes through the viewfinder with his right eye.

“Alright, here we go…just from the shoulders up…yeah, look at me straight-on, just like that…big smile, one two three!” He takes a picture; you can hear the click. “Beautiful! You’re Cindy Crawford! Naomi Campbell! Linda Evangelista! Let’s go again…”

Cadi giggles as she poses: a few respectable smiles, a few silly faces, a few where Aemond asks her to act serious. Cadi says, with an exaggerated grimace: “Look, I’m Mom when Daddy tries to talk to her.” Amir guffaws from the doorway.

“Your turn,” Aemond tells you, waving you over. Aemond directs you like he’s looking for excuses to touch your shoulders, your waist, your face, making minute adjustments that can’t really matter. You’re good at the serious faces, but he’s not satisfied with your smile. “No, a real one. A real smile!”

“I am really smiling!” you protest.

Aemond lowers the camera and raises an eyebrow at you. “You can do better. I’ve seen it.”

And suddenly, effortlessly, you’re beaming.

“There you go,” Aemond says in approval, and snaps a few frames. “Done.”

“What do you need pictures of us for?”

“Just a little project I’m working on,” Aemond says, evasive. He ventures back to the living room without further explanation.

As Aemond zips the Nikon into his duffle bag, you go to the kitchen to see how far Amir has gotten with the Targaryens’ engagement party order. In a dozen different icing colors, he’s painted wildflowers—your favorite since you were Cadi’s age—all over the white buttercream frosting of the vanilla bean cake. You wrap an arm around his waist, rest your head against his chest. “You’re Picasso.”

“I’m a sad, single, four-eyes twink who lives with his Grandma.”

“You’re the love of my life.”

He laughs and smacks a noisy kiss onto your cheek. Aemond watches, amused, thoughtful. He has that same look he had when he walked in on Cadi and Amir dancing to Kyrie, like someone studying a work of art in a museum, something beautiful but arcane, crafted by a foreign stranger who’s been dead for centuries. You start chopping pecans for the hummingbird cake.

“Okay,” Aemond announces with a heavy sigh. “I gotta run.”

“Already?” Cadi says, more disappointed than she’s trying to let on.

“He’s a very busy man,” you tell her. “He’s an engineer. And a historian, too.”

“Just an engineer,” Aemond says, startled.

“Only a historian would think to quiz me about Napoleon to see if I was worthy of his time.”

“You should know something about the man your town was named after.” Aemond leans in close—smoke and cologne, sun and salt—and growls into your ear: “Bye, Cupcake. Taste you later.”

“Bye.” And you watch him leave with his neon teal duffle bag slung over one shoulder, so preoccupied you completely forget about the pecans. Your knife rests on the cutting board, your thoughts are tangled up in what you and Aemond need to talk about tomorrow. I want more than something casual. I do, I really do.

Amir whips you with a dishtowel. “Ho, we’ve got cakes to bake! Let’s go, let’s go!” And then he asks more sympathetically as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose: “How’s your headache?”

“Oh,” you say, only realizing it when he asked. “It’s gone now.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The driveway is long and meandering, brand new but meant to look old, cobblestones lined with meticulously manicured hedges and beasts carved out of marble: bears, dolphins, horses, dragons. On the shores of Lake Verret, out of sight of the rigs and surrounded by towering gnarled southern live oaks older than the United States, you find the Targaryen family residence—manor? estate? chateau?—and park your Chevy Celebrity amidst a sea of Lexuses, Audis, Porsches, Cadillacs, and Alfa Romeos. There are willowy whooping cranes tiptoeing their way across the lawn. A blue merle Great Dane, gigantic and glaring menacingly, lurks behind the white columns of the wraparound front porch.

“That is not a house,” Amir says, gazing up at it through the windshield. “That is a castle.”

“That is where we’re going to make a lot of money if we can impress the Rockefellers.”

“Whoo hoo!” he cheers, climbing out of the car. “San Fran, I hope you’re ready for me!”

You’re dragging the coolers out of the back seat when you are descended upon by a herd of servants, dressed in black so as not to distract from the festivities, so they can fade into the backdrop, so they can become invisible. You and Amir have missed the memo. Your sundress is from Kmart: white with pink zinnias, a cheap and unextraordinary flower for an undistinguished woman from an anonymous town in one of the most impoverished states in the nation. Amir is wearing neon orange shorts and a (very tight) t-shirt from Queen’s Magic Tour that he found at a yard sale.

“These are the cakes?” the head butler asks impatiently, a grim-faced man with salt and pepper hair and spotless white gloves.

“Yeah, that box has the coconut cake, and that one has the key lime, and there are the Cap’n Crunch Treats, and…hey! Wait!” You watch helplessly as the fleet of servants ferry the boxes up the porch steps and into the house. You and Amir stare at each other as you stand abandoned on the cobblestones. “What do we do now?”

“Do we just…leave…?!”

“You made it!” Alicent cries, sailing out of the doorway and swathed in a flowing cream-colored gown. Her large dark eyes are bright and ever-shifting, almost manic; sunlight shimmers on her auburn hair. There is music pouring out behind her, thudding but indistinct, rumbling bass, heady guitar strums. “Come inside. You simply must come in.”

“Oh, we couldn’t impose!” Amir says, already inching towards the house.

“I’ll hear no more of that. You rescued me in my hour of need and I shall not forget it.” Alicent beckons you closer. Her smile is broad and radiant but tight, like she’s having to remember to keep it that way, like her muscles are beginning to ache. “Enjoy some hors d’oeuvres, at least. We have shrimp cocktail, miniature quiches, vol-au-vents, clams casino, Swedish meatballs, little smokies, deviled eggs with paprika, and lots of champagne! Quickly now. There are some people I’d like you to meet.”

Amir glances back at you as you follow him up the porch steps. “People, huh?”

The Great Dane stalks over to you, sniffs, growls deep and low. You freeze, not wanting to provoke it. Its eyes—muddy greenish-brown and swimming with a cunning hostility—remind you of an alligator’s, not the five-footer that idles on your lawn but one of the true monsters of the bayou, old and grizzled and always hungry.

“Vhagar, no!” Alicent scolds, pushing the beast’s massive muzzle away. You imagine it chomping on her hand until it’s gone: one bite, two bites, nothing left but gristle and blood. “No! Bad dog! Go away, go!” The Great Dane reluctantly retreats, glowering from behind a column. “I’m so sorry about that. I’m utterly mortified. She’s terribly unfriendly, but she doesn’t bite. Usually.”

“It’s fine!” you say, heart still racing.

“She belongs to my son. My children…their obsessions confound me. But as mothers, we’re powerless to stop them, aren’t we?”

“I suppose so,” you reply, thinking of Cadi’s wildness, willfulness; though trying to change her would feel wrong.

“Now I certainly owe you a glass of champagne,” Alicent says, billowing like a cloud into the house, her gold heels clicking on the marble floor.

You pass through the doorway and into a vast, crowded foyer, all white and gold: a massive crystalline chandelier, oriental vases and sculptures of men you don’t recognize, paintings on the wall, servants flitting around with trays of hors d’oeuvres. On one table is a tower of champagne glasses, each with a single red cherry marooned inside. Guests mingle in their sport coats and suits and taffeta and sequins, and oddly, none of them are talking about the couple whose engagement is being celebrated. They talk instead about ski trips, polo matches, oil futures, the Soviets, the Saudis, the godawful humidity in this misfortunate corner of the world that they can’t wait to leave. There are stained glass windows everywhere, scenes of suns, stars, sunflowers, dragonflies, lemon trees, sand on beaches. It’s cold, extremely cold, frigid drafts gushing from the air conditioning vents. A Dire Straits song pours not from a Panasonic boombox but from a stereo system with a pair of speakers as tall as you are, Sultans Of Swing. There is a baffling dual chorus clanging around in your skull: Nobody needs this. I’ll never be able to give my daughter anything like this.

Amir whistles as he peers around, eyes wide behind his tortoiseshell glasses. “This place must cost a fortune to cool.”

“I Teleftaia Epithymia.” Alicent struggles with the pronunciation; she speaks slowly, effortfully. “It’s what my husband named the house. What we named the house, I mean. It’s Greek for The Last Desire. As in, no one could possibly want anything more than what this home can offer. Isn’t that poetic? I’ve fallen quite in love with it.” Still, there is that slight nervousness to everything she does, that over-eagerness to please, that restless rushing fidgeting. She wears large gold teardrop earrings that she keeps touching. “We knew we’d have to build something here for the new project on the lake. My son is overseeing it, and he’ll have to spend the next year here, at least. It’s a big step for him. It’s the first drilling operation he’s been given command of. And he—”

“Alicent!” A man comes striding through the crowd. He has shoulder-length pale blonde hair and is wearing a black pinstripe suit, a business suit, authoritative but not joyful. He doesn’t notice you or Amir. You don’t exist to him yet. “Where the hell is the ice sculpture? You said there would be an ice sculpture.”

“It’s on its way, darling. I already called.”

“It should be here now!”

“Viserys, please.” Alicent’s voice is low, embarrassed. “The driver got lost, you know our address is new. They stopped at a payphone and rang us and I straightened it out. They’ll arrive any minute.”

“They better,” the man grumbles. “It’s her family’s crest, for Christ’s sake. We need that ice dragon.”

“This is my husband,” Alicent tells you and Amir, forced smile, pleading eyes, trying to pivot. “Viserys, do you remember the wonderful people I told you about? From Hummingbird Bakery?”

“Bakery?” He seems to have only a vague recollection and even less interest. His gaze is already wandering to other guests. He flashes a grin and waves at a few middle-aged men in grey suits.

“They saved me. They were able to bake us six beautiful cakes with only two days’ notice.”

“And Cap’n Crunch Treats,” Amir adds.

Now Viserys Targaryen does turn his attention to you, and his forehead knits into perturbed wrinkles. His cool blue eyes skate over your Kmart dress, your forearms still dotted with flour and frosting, your cheap pink flats with bows on the front. “It’s a pleasure.” Then he looks to Amir—orange shorts, too-tight shirt that stops at his navel, dogwood flower in his hair—and seems to startle a little. “Alicent, you didn’t mention…uh…he’s…oh well. Too late now. It can’t be helped.”

You and Amir share a glance, polite smiles pasted on your faces. Alicent is abjectly horrified. “Viserys, he’s extremely professional.”

“There are the Lannisters. I must be off.” And the Targaryen family patriarch unceremoniously departs. You and Amir pretend to admire the stained glass windows. Alicent picks at the beds of her fingernails, her rings jangling against each other, her eyes misty.

Criston appears out of nowhere, wearing a white suit with a zebra print shirt underneath. Today his single earring is silver to match. He glides a hand around Alicent’s waist and leans in so close that his nose brushes her fiery hair. “What? What do you need?”

“The ice sculpture people—”

“I’ll wait outside for them,” Criston says, and departs as swiftly as he arrived.

“Please allow me to give you a quick tour of the house,” Alicent says, recovering somewhat. “I’m so grateful for your help. And things keep happening that only make me feel more indebted.” Then she hands each of you a flute of champagne, spins on her heels, and leads you out of the foyer.

Each room is a different color. The living room is red, furniture of lush velvet and Italian leather, bookshelves tall enough to need ladders, a brick fireplace that they’ll never use. Through a pair of French doors you can glimpse a garden and a pool with a water slide. The dining room is a cheerful butter yellow. The kitchen is teal, and like all the rest of the house has stained glass windows to match; these are shaped like a cathedral’s and run all the way up to the ceiling. Servants have arrayed your cakes on the counter, each with a label handwritten in cursive and a set of knives to cut it with. A plate of Cap’n Crunch Treats has been tucked away back by the stove like something they’re a little ashamed of.

Everywhere she goes, Alicent introduces you and Amir to the guests she crosses paths with. “Have you met these heavenly people from Hummingbird Bakery yet? Yes, they’re local, true Louisianans! I see you’ve already helped yourself to a slice of the key lime cake. Isn’t it just fantastic?! And a gorgeous shade of green! It’s so peculiar, you won’t believe what this sweetheart has living in her yard, a real-life alligator…”

You whisper to Amir: “Are we her pet poor people?”

“You might be. I’m proudly undomesticated.”

“Christabel!” Alicent shouts jubilantly as the girl scrolls into the kitchen. “There you are, dear! Come see your cakes.”

Christabel complies, shy but agreeable, peeking out from under a shock of feathery blonde bangs. She wears gleaming diamond earrings and a very bridal white one-shoulder dress, showing quite a bit of skin; you notice that some of the other guests milling about the kitchen cast her judgmental smirks. Christabel asks Alicent, as if she’s afraid of the answer: “He’s not here yet?”

“You know how busy he’s been,” Alicent says, apologetic. You think, remembering the drunk man from the holding cell: Yeah, busy committing misdemeanors. “Those rigs…the S&P 500…anyway, he’ll be home before you know it. In the meantime, let me get you a piece of cake. You’re disappearing, love.”

Christabel skims a palm down the front of her dress self-consciously. “Alright. Just a tiny one.” Then she acknowledges you and Amir. “You must be the masterminds then. Alicent told me all about you.”

Amir says: “About our excellent service and reasonable prices?”

“Yes.” Christabel isn’t skittish like Alicent, but there’s a sort of pensiveness to her, an impression that she is eternally woolgathering. Now she looks at you in particular with a small, warm smile. “And about how beautiful you are.”

Amir laughs at your stunned expression. Me? Beautiful? And the only other person to call you that in years has been Aemond, tangled up with you on your bed in your falling-down house, and you aren’t sure if that counts. “Oh, um, thank you,” you manage. “I really like your dress.”

“Really? I fear people think it’s too…revealing. I liked it fine this morning when I put it on. I didn’t have any notion it might not be suitable. Now I’m feeling like an idiot.”

“No, it’s so nice!” you say, pained for her, one misfit recognizing another. “I never would have thought there was anything wrong with it.”

Alicent gets a plate from the pile on the counter. “What flavor would you like, Christabel?”

“Whatever this one is.” She points to the vanilla bean cake, adorned with Amir’s frosting flowers. “Isn’t it stunning, with all the colors?”

“Amir is the artist,” you say. “I love wildflowers.”

Alicent asks: “Did you have them at your wedding?”

No one bothered. No one remembered. “I wanted to.”

“Wouldn’t that be lovely, Christabel?” Alicent passes her a slice of vanilla bean cake. “Wildflowers? It would be different. Everyone has roses or lilies or something. But wildflowers? I can’t recall ever going to a wedding with wildflowers. Especially if you’re going to get married here. It would fit with the scenery. This place is so exotic, so untamed!”

Christabel nods, taking nibbles of her cake. “Wow, this is delicious! Yes, wildflowers. We could use them for the bouquet, and the corsages…”

“Now we just need a venue.” Alicent sighs. “We’ve had such a terrible time trying to find a good place. Somewhere historic, but not rundown or unsavory. I mean, you can’t get married on an old plantation or something. Bloody hell. How tone-deaf would that be?”

“Very tone-deaf,” Amir concurs.

“There’s a church across the lake in Belle River that you might like,” you say. “The Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens. It’s a historic site, I believe. It’s not very big, but it would make for nice pictures.”

“There’s an idea!” Alicent chirps, then she is stricken as a woman walks into the kitchen. Her fair hair is tied up in a messy bun. She wears a white t-shirt stained with dirt, denim overalls, and Converse Chucks. There is a bluish-green chameleon perched on her shoulder, goggling at everyone with its rotating, conical eyes. “Helaena, put your dress on.”

“Dreamfyre doesn’t like the silk. She won’t sit on my shoulder if I’m wearing it.”

“Helaena, it’s a lizard.” Alicent is exasperated. “Go upstairs, stick it back in its cage, and put your dress on, now.”

“Fine,” Helaena mumbles before wandering off.

“Oh, is that the ice sculpture?!” Alicent cries, peeking out into the foyer through the kitchen doorway. “At last! If you’ll excuse me…” She scurries off to attend to it, Christabel trailing her like a shadow.

You put your empty champagne flute in the sink. “I need to go find a bathroom.”

“I need some shrimp cocktail,” Amir replies. “Do you think I should try to explain the evils of gentrification to people?”

You giggle. “Yeah, definitely. Start with Viserys.” You part ways, Amir headed towards the foyer, you journeying down a mysterious hallway that adjoins the kitchen. The walls are flame orange and decorated with portraits of grave blonde people, each with an outlandish name etched into the plaque beneath its likeness: Baelon, Alyssa, Jaehaerys, Alysanne, Aenys, another Alyssa, Aegon, Rhaenys, Visenya. “This family is so fucking weird,” you mutter to yourself as you continue down the hall.

You find a bathroom, but there’s already a hoard of glamorous, ornamented women waiting outside of it. They’re chattering about which is the superior place to take a holiday, the Canary Islands or the south of France. They stare at you like you’re vermin, a nutria or a raccoon. You keep moving.

At the top of a spiral staircase, you find another hallway. The first door you try is a home movie theater complete with a popcorn machine, neon signage, several rows of seating and a plethora of bean bag chairs. Behind the second door is a bedroom, but it’s not unoccupied. You are greeted by the sight of the man who must be the groom. He looks much like he did when he was detained in a holding cell of the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office: slicked-back hair, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, flushed cheeks, tiny shorts, flip flops. He’s hunched over a desk with three lines of white powder on it. There’s an HP computer—something you’ve never seen in person before—in one corner of the room, a television and collection of hundreds of VHS tapes in the other. His walls are black and cluttered with posters of punk rock bands, the Ramones, the Clash, the Misfits, Minor Threat, Social Distortion, Bad Religion. His Akai stereo is blaring Fight For Your Right by the Beastie Boys.

“What?” the man says agitatedly. There’s powder on his fingers and his nose. “What? What? Who are you? What do you want?”

“Um, sorry, I was just…uh…” There’s some kind of rodent running around on his unmade bed. Its fur is a sandy yellow color, its body freakishly long and four legs stumpy. What the fuck. “I was looking for a bathroom.”

He blinks, muddled recollection. “You’re the cake lady.”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Delivering cakes.”

“Oh. Right.” He points directly across the hall. “There’s a bathroom.”

“Okay, great, thanks.” He starts snorting another line before you’ve even shut the door.

You spend a minute or two in the Targaryens’ lilac-colored bathroom, paintings of the night sky hung on the walls—comets, moons, stars, galaxies—and amethyst geodes on the sink, a stained glass window with a scene of a lavender field. By the time you navigate back down to the kitchen, the man is there. He’s eating a Cap’n Crunch Treat, cocaine still streaked across his pink face and caught in his wisp of a mustache.

“You did this,” he says. “I know you did. It’s too good to be anyone but you.”

With his hand that’s not holding the Cap’n Crunch Treat, he’s cradling the lean rodent against his bare chest like an infant. “What is that? A weasel?”

“It’s a ferret. His name is Sunfyre.” The man nods to a photograph pinned to the refrigerator with magnets shaped like miniature oil rigs. There are two people in the frame, a woman and a girl, their cheeks squished together as they laugh on a pink sand beach of some topical island you’ll never visit. “That’s my dad’s first wife.”

“He’s divorced?”

“Widowed. She died in a car accident.” He taps on the girl in the picture, perhaps Cadi’s age. “That’s my half-sister Rhaenyra. She’s an Olympic fencer. She lives in the Lake District and fucks our uncle.”

You shake your head. You must have misheard him. “She what?”

“Yeah, I know how it sounds. I’m not kidding. She lives in a castle and fucks our uncle and has kids with him. Fucking sick, man. And I’m the screwup? Because I like coke and strippers? I’m supposed to feel bad about that? Bite me, Viserys.” He grabs a second Cap’n Crunch Treat and gestures for you to follow him into the foyer. “Come on. You need some champagne.”

You chuckle. Mental or not, there’s something likeable about him…though you can’t say you envy Christabel. To be married to someone like this man must be hellish. Now, to be married to someone like Aemond… “I’ve already had a glass.”

“Okay, well I need some champagne, and I don’t want to go out there alone.” His flip flops slap noisily against the marble floor as he plods out of the kitchen. He looks back to see if you’re following, and then you hurry after him. The heir to the Jade Dragon fortune weaves through the crowd, ignoring everyone and being ignored in return. In the packed foyer, he plucks a flute of champagne from the tower and chugs it. He eats the cherry and holds up the stem. “You know how to tie these with your tongue?”

“No, I definitely do not.”

“I do,” he announces proudly. He shoves the stem in his mouth, wiggles it around for a while, accidentally swallows it and has to hack it back up. He spits the cherry stem onto the pristine white floor, attracting a few grimaces. “Wait. Wait. Let me try again.” He reaches for another glass of champagne. The opening notes of Asia’s Heat Of The Moment boom from the speakers.

You give him a sympathetic smile. “Pre-wedding jitters?”

He snorts. “I’m not the one getting married.”

“Wait, you’re not?”

He cackles, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “I already have a wife. Stephanie, she’s a princess from Monaco. Right now she’s in Ibiza or something. I haven’t seen her since New Year’s. This New Year’s? Last New Year’s? I’m not sure. Maybe it was the Grand Prix. I remember a lot of confetti.”

You gape at him. “So who’s getting married?”

“My brother Aemond.”

“Who?!”

He points with his Cap’n Crunch Treat. Across the foyer by the front door, Aemond is grinning and accepting congratulations from a gaggle of men in suits: black, grey, navy, tan. Aemond himself is wearing emerald green, dark and luxurious and striking and expensive, because he’s a Targaryen who’s marrying a noblewoman and he’s an oil tycoon and a millionaire and he is most certainly not single and not looking to change that.

“You fucking liar,” you hiss.

The man with the coke in his mustache peers over at you. “Huh?”

You can’t tear your eyes away from Aemond. You feel scarlet rage soaking into you drip by drip, you feel the blood turning hot beneath your skin. You shouldn’t be this upset over a man you barely know, you don’t understand why you are. Except part of you does, and it’s heartbreaking, and it’s humiliating beyond words. Of course he’s marrying someone like Christabel. Of course he’d never choose me.

Aemond bids farewell to his well-wishers, and as he turns away from them his right eye catches on you. From across the room, his face shifts from disbelief to astonishment to horror. His jaw drops open. The flute of champagne he’d been clasping shatters against the marble floor. Immediately, a flock of servants materialize to clean up the mess. You flee from the foyer to the living room, through the French doors, into the garden. It’s midday and hot as hell, humid, swampy, suffocating to the British aristocrats that fill the house. You don’t see anyone else outside. You run past the swimming pool and through cobblestone trails bordered by blue cardinal flowers, orange coneflowers, coral honeysuckle, resurrection ferns, maypops, white sage, firewheels, magnolias, cinnamon ferns. You stop at the edge of a fish pond larger than your kitchen and glare down into the water, trying not to let tears blur your vision as glimmers of scales—red, orange, black, white, gold—dart beneath the transparent rippling water.

I have to go back inside. I can’t leave without Amir. I can’t leave without formally saying goodbye to Alicent and thanking her for her hospitality and licking the boots of these people so they’ll throw just enough cash at me to keep a roof over my daughter’s head.

You hear hurried footsteps; Aemond appears on the cobblestones. He’s found you, but that’s as far ahead as he’s planned. He holds his hands open, not knowing what to say.

“You told me you didn’t have a girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She’s your fiancée, that’s worse, don’t you get how that’s worse?!”

“Okay, this looks bad, but it’s not what you think—”

“You’re marrying her, right?” you demand, and he hesitates. “Right?!”

“Yes,” Aemond admits, and it feels like knuckles to your stomach.

“Then you’re a liar and a cheater.”

“It’s not…it’s…” He gestures frantically, not knowing how to explain, how to translate it into words you’ll understand. “There’s not an expectation of fidelity.”

“Does Christabel know that?”

“That’s the thing, that’s what you don’t get, it’s not like that between us. We don’t discuss it, we’re not…” More vague, frenzied gestures. “We’re not…um…” He groans, rubbing his scarred forehead. “We’re not fucking. At all. Nothing close to it. It’s not a physical relationship yet.”

“But she doesn’t know about me.”

“No, God no, of course not.”

“So she thinks you’re…abstinent…?”

He sighs, defeated. “I don’t know. I don’t really care, honestly.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping with her?”

“Because we can’t until we’re married.”

“I’m sorry, are you Pilgrims?! Are you time travelers from the 1400s?!”

“It’s her family’s standards,” Aemond says. “It’s not uncommon for women of her…status.”

“Girl,” you pitch at him. “She’s a girl. How old is she? Eighteen?”

“Nineteen.”

You’re furious that she exists; you’re furious on her behalf. “And she’s planning her fairytale wedding while you collect local women to act out your kinky fantasies with.”

“One woman,” Aemond says softly.

“What?”

“There’s one woman currently. Just you.”

You shake your head, swiping enraged tears from your cheeks. “Why are you marrying her?”

“It’s sort of an…arranged thing.”

You stare at him. “Someone set you up?”

“My father knows her father. They think it’s a good match. Her family needs money, my father wants ties to the nobility. She’s one of probably five people on this planet that he would approve of. And she seems enthusiastic about it, so it’s happening.”

“Aemond, that is an insanely bad idea.”

“I have to do it.”

“You’re marrying her because your dad told you to?!” You explode. “Are you serious?! Everyone with the sole exception of Amir told me to stay with Willis, my friends, my family, my neighbors, my bakery customers, the checkout ladies at the Piggly Wiggly, my goddamn mailman, my father was in the hospital dying of lung cancer saying that his last wish was for me to never get divorced, and I still went through with it because I knew it was the right thing to do and no one was going to stop me!”

“I don’t want to talk about Willis,” Aemond snaps.

“Well, he’s kind of an inescapable aspect of my existence, so if I can get over it I’m sure you can too.”

“I hate that guy,” Aemond seethes, and you have no idea how to respond. You gaze down into the pond and watch scales and fins and tails fly like bullets beneath the surface.

“Those are the biggest goldfish I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“They’re koi,” Aemond scoffs.

“Oh, is that what they teach people about at Imperial College in London? Fancy fucking fish?”

“Don’t be a bitch to me, just…just give me a second, I didn’t think I was going to have this conversation until tonight, this is not how I wanted it to go.”

You say quietly, betrayed: “You’re a robber baron.”

“What? Like Vanderbilt or Rockefeller, that kind of robber baron, that’s who you think I am?!”

“That’s who you are! You hoard and exploit and use and pollute and destroy! I don’t destroy things, I create them!”

“You bake cupcakes!”

“And I don’t hurt anyone by doing it!”

“You are so goddamn delusional, you are completely insane—”

You start counting out crimes on your fingers. “I don’t kill people, I don’t endanger the Earth, I didn’t irrevocably screw up Ketchikan, Alaska—”

“So I’m terrible because I want to bring jobs to your pathetic, dead-end town?! Because I want there to be a few less pregnant teenagers and more high school diplomas? That makes me a war criminal, that puts me right up there with Jaruzelski or Pinochet?!” He realizes what he’s said when he sees the wounded fury unfold on your face. “Oh fuck. Come on, I didn’t mean you.”

“No, you just meant people who are exactly like me in every way.”

“You know what? I take it back,” Aemond says, knife-sharp, wrathful. “I did mean you. Because you are wasting your life here, and you’re too stubborn or too scared or too much of both to recognize an opportunity to have something more. Don’t you think you deserve better? Don’t you think your kid deserves better?”

“I built something here, I made a future for myself and my daughter here, and you’re going to work our people to death and poison the lake and then pack up and leave when it all goes wrong because that’s what oil tycoons do! The opportunity is for you, not us! More mansions, more champagne, more coke, more demented pets!”

“Then leave! Get in your car and drive back to your sad, structurally unsound house and live happily ever after with whatever braindead barbarian you marry next.”

“I will,” you pitch back. “Enjoy being married to your marquess.”

“She’s not a marquess. Her dad is the marquess. She won’t inherit the title until he dies.”

“Enjoy being married to your future marquess, you pretentious prick.”

“Women can’t be marquesses. They can only be marchionesses.”

“Yeah, you’re so smart. I’m really impressed. At least I don’t have to tie people to beds to delude myself into thinking I have some semblance of control over my life.”

You storm through the garden and back into the house as Aemond watches you, violently disappointed. You yank open one of the French doors and slip into the midst of the festivities. Illustrious guests are still mingling, toasting, boasting, scrutinizing you skeptically when they notice you at all. In the archway between the living room and the foyer, Amir joins you, sipping a flute of champagne.

“Hey, ho! Did you get lost? Did you find the cellar where they keep the bodies of their political enemies?” He has eaten so many hors d’oeuvres he’s basically waddling. “You look stressed. How about a nice shrimp cocktail?” He follows your eyeline to where Aemond is trying to sneak covertly into the living room through the French doors. Christabel intercepts him, relieved that he’s finally arrived, beaming, sparkling, entirely unaware of any conflict. Aemond conjures up a smile, fond yet guarded. She doesn’t touch him, and he doesn’t touch her either. He clasps his hands behind his back instead. “Is that…?!”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s…?!”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Amir says. “Oh.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his dark eyes wide and shellshocked. “We should have made him buy all of us Nintendos and a week at horse camp.”

“I want to go home.”

“You got it, let me just grab a few more of those Swedish meatballs—”

“Amir,” you say, tears brimming in your eyes. “I really want to go home.”

“Okay, okay.” He slings an arm around your shoulder, smacks a kiss against your temple, walks with you towards the front door. “Then let’s go home.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you

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gay-dorito-dust · 11 months

Note

This is so cute, please request part 2 of their newborn son, Peter B Parker visiting his best friend shyreader at the hospital, he gives her son a couple onesies like spider man theme or one that’s says “mommy boy”. I can’t stop thinking about Peter being the godfather of her son ♥️💙 https://www.tumblr.com/gay-dorito-dust/721470690012839936/i-thought-this-is-cute-but-please-request-like

A/n: Godfather Peter B Parker is in the house! I love this idea! I also added Peter being asked in being the godfather just cuz. Miguel might be ooc.

Peter came to the hospital as soon as Miguel caught wind that you were going into to labour, so it wouldn’t be of any surprise that along the way Peter had to calm down Miguel before entering the hospital because his claws were coming out and retreating constantly, his breathing was way off and just overall allowing his mind wander to less then pleasant thoughts in regards to your future together, and the dangers it’ll put you both in.

Peter somewhat understood the position Miguel was in as it was the same one he was in when MJ went into labour with Mayday. He didn’t believe he’d be a good father, hell he didn’t even know where to start in learning how to be a good parent for his unborn kid, but he was lucky to have someone like MJ to help him unpack and deconstruct every notion he had when it came to parenthood.

So he only wanted to pay that kindness forward by helping Miguel unpack and deconstruct everything because the moment he steps foot into that room, he’ll be needing to bring everything to the table because you’ll be needing him now more then ever, during quite literally the most important moment of your lives.

‘What if I forget about her?’ Miguel asked in a panic, his claws out in full display as his scarlet eyes shone with a multitude of emotions behind his specially designed glasses that helped him against combat his light sensitivity.

‘You won’t.’ Peter told him. ‘She’ll always be with you during every step of the way. Even if you may not realise it but Gabriella has always been with you…it’s impossible to forget your first child but that shouldn’t mean that your child with y/n should take her place within your heart nor play second fiddle to her.’ Peter hated seeing his friend look so lost and at war with himself because it went against everything he knew about Miguel. However Peter knew that his friend needed him and even if he tried to bite his head off for it, Peter knew he’d always be there for a friend in need.

‘What if I’m not ready to go through all this again? What if I’m not ready to loose them both, to loose everything again because I couldn’t protect them?’ Miguel asked, looking over at Peter for guidance. ‘Then what’ll I do?’ Peter squared up his jaw and furrowed his brows as he reached a hand out to grab ahold of Miguel’s shoulder, feeling him flinch beneath his touch.

‘Then you cherish them until you can’t.’ Peter told him. ‘You cherish them, you love them, you nurture them, you do everything in your power, not only as y/n’s partner but as a soon to be father and you do what we Spider-Men do best; protect those that we love until the bitter end.’

Needless to say after that, Miguel understood why Peter was so revered, not just as Spider-Man but as Peter Parker also. Yeah he may crack jokes to his expenses and take to things not as seriously as he probably should, but at the end of the day Peter always proved himself as to why he was such a guiding source for those who’ve gotten lost along the way; For he himself was lost once too and just wanted to be the person he wished he had to guide him during those moments of crisis, loss and grief.

Skipping ahead to when Gabriel is born and bursting with excitement, Peter bought a shit ton of baby onesies and even bought a matching crocheted Spider-Man hat that was closely matching the colours on Miguel’s suit for when he was older. Most of all he was excited that Mayday wasn’t going to be the only Spiderling anymore, his mind having gone rampant with all the play date ideas your son and his daughter would go on. He just so happy but upon arrival, the question you and Miguel ask of him made him all the more happier.

‘Peter, will you be Gabriel’s godfather?’ You asked, watching as his grin stretched from ear to ear.

‘Me? A godfather? What does Miguel think about this?’ He asked.

‘I was the one who pitched the idea,’ Miguel told him, still holding little Gabriel in his arms as he slept. ‘Y/n was merely the seal of approval.’ You shoot Miguel a look before looking back to your best friend, who was seemingly having a hard time comprehending that it was Miguel who wanted him as the Godfather of his son from how the gobsmacked looked upon his face.

‘So…will you be Gabriel’s godfather?’ You asked and with happy tears in his eyes, Peter took both of your hands, squeezing them tightly as he whispered his answer: ‘yes.’

‘I almost forgot, I brought Gabriel a little something.’ Peter said as he pulled away to reach for the bag he had brought and began to pull out onesie, after onesie, after onesie that you couldn’t help but think that Peter was more prepared and well equipped for Gabriel then you and Miguel. ‘You bought Gabriel baby onesies?’ You inquired playfully as you lifted one that read ‘mommy’s boy’ before putting it down to pick up at another that had the blue and red colour scheme of a Spidey suit, followed with the spider insignia on the front and back.

‘Not only that but also,’ Peter dug further into the bag and pulled out the crocheted Spider-Man hat, ‘ a Spider-Man hat?’ You asked, taking a closer look at it. Peter shrugs as he leans back into his chair. ‘This is only for when he gets bigger, as if we put this on him now it might as well cover up his entire body.’

Before Miguel could say anything, you gently nudged him in the side and smiled at your friend, ‘thank you Peter, I’ll be sure to put all of them into use, especially this one.’ You gestured to the onesie that said ‘mommy’s boy.’

Sooner or later Peter’s phone wasn’t only just dedicated to his daughter Mayday but it was also dedicated to Gabriel O’hara; his godson.

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namfinessed · 7 months

Text

i have died - p.jm.

genre: angst, mild fluff (7.1k) royal au! (mentions of blood, fighting and all information might not be accurate to history.)

summary: jimin knows his queen has a heart, he's known it since he set eyes on her, even if rumours whispered that she was cold, calculated, merciless, jimin held on, his queen had a heart.

masterlist

to be a queen, was to be powerful, they said.

it was to be graceful yet stern, commanding but caring, soft but strong, beautiful but not so much, that it took away from your strength.

to be a queen, was to be miserable, you said.

you sat on your throne, with the burden of the world on your shoulders and not a touch from someone else to cure it or take it away. your arms stayed firmly on your lap as you tried to concentrate on your advisor’s words.

“war is upon us, your majesty, everyone’s saying it.” he gestured to the court filled with old men, greedy old men who were waiting for you to slip up.

“on what basis, did you make this conclusion?” you tried to stay calm, even if a shiver went down your spine and your hands started sweating.

you knew war was going to descend on your kingdom any day now, your parents warned out about it when you were still a kid, you had been preparing for this your whole life, but it didn’t stop the nightmares, chills, or fear. war would devastate your kingdom, it would run your people and resources dry and as the queen, you were expected to stop this devastation.

“do you not see what is happening in your kingdom, your majesty?” one of the old men sneered at you as their hands tweaked their mustaches and your patience almost gave out.

beside you, your general, park jimin, tightened his hand on his sword, ready to slay the man on your command. you lift a hand in his direction, showing a sliver of your patience, and he brings his hand back down.

“i do know about the riots and the grains,” you started, leaning forward, “i also know about the affairs.” you stared pointedly at the old man, whose eyebrow started sweating as you stood up.

“be careful with how you speak to me, or i will not hesitate to tie you up and throw you in the middle of a bloody riot.” you stormed out of the room with park jimin hot on your tail, concealing his smile and an audible hush resounded around you as you walked out to the barren land.

you weren’t known as the heartless queen for no reason, you were merciless, with whomever you deemed deserved to be treated that way and you knew it wasn’t fair, but as a queen, you could care less about being fair.

“should i ready the swords, your majesty?” jimin spoke and you nodded, turning and disappearing into a room to change. you hastily undid the layers of clothing you wore, feeling more and more air enter your chest as you stood naked in front of the long mirror covering the wall.

scars from many wars ago littered your chest, thighs, and arms, you wanted to pile on all the layers of your clothing back on your beaten body.

you pushed the layers away instead, a queen shouldn’t worry about battle scars, she should celebrate them. you got your armor and boots on, feeling better when everything was covered, and stepped out.

but a sight made you stop in your tracks.

across the practice field, were two lovers, oblivious to the world, hiding away from the world under a sheer curtain, the women were holding back their smiles as they stroked each other’s cheeks, leaning into each other but leaning away, as if a magnetic pushed them close and far. one of them reached out and kissed the other’s cheek, your hand instinctively reached to your cheek, unconsciously patting the area.

never a kiss.

never has a kiss ever touched your skin.

never has a touch from someone you loved, left a ghost on your skin, like your scars did.

across the practice field, jimin’s worried eyes saw your hands stroking your cheeks, his gaze followed your line of sight to see the poorly concealed lovers, his heart twisted as he watched you push your hands away and a grimace fell on your face. jimin had never seen a smile on his queen’s face but with the role you had, he knew you didn’t have much to smile about.

“your majesty, they are ready!” he yelled, capturing your attention, away from the lovers who brought tears to your eyes. your eyes snapped to his and the vulnerability disappeared, a hardness settled in them again and jimin wished that he let you stay lost in your vulnerability for a little more.

you grabbed your sword and protective gear, struggling to put on the headpiece as you always did, jimin stepped up and snapped it into place, it was the only thing you let him do for you.

and jimin looked forward to it every day.

you fell into a rhythm, jimin was a formidable opponent, never letting you be distracted for too long, which was relieving. the sounds of swords clanging, boots kicking the sand up, and heavy breathing drowned out everything else for you.

your eyes stayed laser-focused on jimin’s movements, they were natural, clean, and sharp, and so were his father’s.

you had known jimin your whole life when he was still just a kid and learning from his father, who was your father’s general, when he followed his mom around, who followed your mum around.

his parents weren’t alive now, nor were yours.

someday, you were ten years old, your parents had left for another town and never returned, and you had to be a queen while still not understanding what death was and why it had taken your parents, jimin’s parents protected you until an unknown disease took the two of them as well.

jimin’s sword hit yours, bringing you back to the present, where you had no one to love nor protect but jimin did, jimin always knew he would protect you.

you swung back, twisting your leg to bend and hit the armor covering his stomach, he recoiled at the contact and you smirked underneath your headgear. this continued, you played the dance of defense and offense, and soon, you ripped the headpiece to force some air into your body.

“i’ll be going now.” you walked out, without looking back and jimin nodded, dropping his sword, wordlessly watching you leave.

somewhere, between being a queen while still being a child and losing everyone you loved, you had forgotten to care for another person, and between protecting you since he was a teenager and losing everyone he loved, jimin had only grown more determined to care with all the heart in him.

that was the difference between you and jimin, you lost your heart and he gained a second one. and naturally, you two never spoke anymore but jimin had always wanted to tell you about his second heart, that it beat for you, even if it meant that his head would be at the end of your sword.

the talk of war kept spreading throughout the kingdom and your palace became louder, so did your heartbeat in your ears, so did your sword hitting jimin’s, and so did your internal cries for help.

you marked the map as you circled it, checking entries, exits, and secret pathways that could leave you vulnerable to the enemies.

“seal the exits, don’t allow goods transport till the next week, we will put up announcements when it can be resumed, station two guards at every secret route and give them our best guns, station one guard at each entry and exit, make sure meals reach them from time-to-time and distribute palace supplies to the people, without good transport, they won’t be making money” commands flowed easily out of you, you took every advisor’s bullshit advice and decided to ignore it at all, you came up with the most efficient plan you could.

“should we seal them tonight, your majesty?” jimin stepped forward and you nodded, “tonight would be best, we have to protect ourselves before we regret it. and later, i need to discuss battle strategies with you, keep that in mind.” jimin bowed to you and stepped back as the advisors argued with you.

he watched with a smirk as you calmly explained how miserable their plans were, he watched as you put all of them in their places and left the room, leaving the air of your power lingering in the room.

“she’s just as arrogant as her father” the same old man who had questioned your knowledge of the kingdom in the court, turns his nose up with a nasty sneer on his face. jimin feels his skin start to burn in anger when he hears the noises of agreement from the others.

“she’s even worse, at least her father was a capable ruler, she’s just arrogant and nothing else,” another one adds with a smirk, and everyone laughs at the comment, jimin wonders how you hold onto your patience with these men.

“she’s not even beautiful enough to be arrogant, did you see the scars covering her arms? no wonder she isn’t married” they continued to add snide comments, sipping their drinks and doing everything but be the advisors they are.

a slam on the wooden table startles them all, liquid jumping out of their cups and onto the floors, they all turn to see jimin’s eyes burning holes into them as his hands twitch on the table.

“one more word about our queen and i will personally wield the sword that chops your necks off.” jimin says calmly, though his fury is poorly contained. the advisors quirked an eyebrow at him, “who do you think you are? you are a general, not the queen’s lapdog, behave.”

another one piped up to reprimand him, “you are no one to lay a hand on any of us, learn your place, or we will make you.”

a dark chuckle bubbled out of jimin as he quickly realized if given the chance, he would take the lives of everyone in this room in a heartbeat, “my place is to serve her, so if i ever lay a hand on you, it wouldn’t be for me, it would be for my queen.”

the advisors grew wide-eyed at the storm-like fury that brewed in jimin’s eyes as he stared at them, jimin was known to be kind, friendly, and sweet around the court, but seeing him this way, had them all clearing their throats and looking away as a sheen of fear covered their faces, their eyes flickered from jimin to the sword that rested on his hips.

it would only take him a minute to kill them all and that knowledge had all of them gulping for air.

outside the room, you held your hand to your chest as a long breath released out of you, you never left since you heard the first comment from your advisors and even if it wasn’t supposed to hurt you, it did.

and you knew jimin didn’t have to say anything, you knew he could’ve just left the room, this was the first time anyone had ever stood beside you and not against you.

jimin opened the doors to see you beside them, eyes gazing up at him with concealed fondness, your face stayed cold and distant but jimin noticed the tiniest curve of your lips.

he remembers how you used to smile as a kid, wide and with teeth, dimples curved in as you ran around the palace, having your maids chase you around, he remembers the first time you had talked to him.

“get the swords ready, general.” you rush out of the area, leaving jimin a little startled but without another word, he follows you.

the sounds of your swords clanging brought you peace, as your chest slowly started to loosen up, though you had to admit that your focus wasn’t great, your eyes kept flickering to catch glimpses of jimin, hidden under his protective gear and your mouth kept opening to say something.

“you didn’t have to stand up to them, park jimin” you muttered, just loud enough for jimin to hear and his movements paused.

so, you had heard.

he was wishing that you hadn’t.

“i know, your majesty.” his arms lifted his sword again, but dropped it as soon as your sword hit the ground.

“then, why would you do it?” you hated the tremor in your voice, it was so unlike you, so unlike a queen.

“i don’t know, but i can’t think of anything else i would’ve done at the moment,” he removed his headpiece to see you, to see what you felt about his words.

you nodded with uncertainty, you expected him to say that as your general, it was his duty to defend you, you hadn’t expected anything more than that.

“i appreciate it,” you said breathily and jimin nodded back, his cheeks attaining a flush from both the cold wind gushing around you and also from your words.

i would do it again, by the way, even if my life is on the line.

he felt the urge to tell you as you turned away but then his eyes caught the royal emblem etched on your armor and he swallowed his words.

“i wasn’t always like this, general, i think you know that.” tears, that you couldn’t stop, lined your eyes as you thought back to the child that you were and the world that you had to grow up in, and jimin felt his chest fill with sorrow because he knew so well, knew more than you thought he did. “i know, your majesty, i know.”

you straightened your shoulders, any trace of vulnerability escaping your body as your advisors passed the field, all of their eyes analyzing and judging you.

“we still have to discuss those strategies, come.”

the rest of the night, you went over your defenses again and again, eyes catching fleetingly, accidentally, and then returning to the table with flushed cheeks, jimin was delighted to be so close, yet so far, from you.

and each time, your eyes met, you felt your heart beating again, you felt yourself wanting to say things that had nothing to do with the maps spread out in front of you.

“we knew each other before all this, didn’t we, park jimin?” before you became a queen, before you owned a kingdom, jimin was present in your distant memory, “you gave me flowers.” he smiled at you, images of your younger self flashing brightly in his mind.

“no! that can’t be true, general” a smile of disbelief curved on your face, you never looked at flowers, you couldn’t imagine any part of you that would gift someone flowers.

“oh, but you did, your majesty” jimin cheekily replied, making you shake your head and look away from him, trying to remember a time when you weren’t a queen.

but jimin remembers too clearly, how you had met, how your hands touched him for the first time, when it was all innocence and warmth.

it had been a hot, summer day.

jimin’s mother was busier than usual. it was the princess’s birthday and the entire palace was geared up to celebrate it grandly.

but jimin wasn’t happy at all. his eyes were hurting from the tears he had cried, his cheeks were firing up with heat as his body burned.

he was sicker than he had ever been and his mother couldn’t take care of him, her own eyes were filled with tears that she couldn’t take care of her child but she had duties to fulfill.

jimin sat in the garden, sniffling and pulling grass, refusing to listen to his mother’s request to stay inside as his cheeks puffed up with defiance.

then, he heard soft giggles falling from the corridors into the lonely garden.

he turned to see the princess, her hand in the queen’s, her other hand gripping tightly onto freshly picked jasmines, as she walked merrily, it was her birthday after all. and even as a kid, jimin couldn’t look away from the princess.

she was a joy to see, a joy to hear.

when the princess turned to look at him, to look at sad, pouty jimin, sitting by himself, picking the grass with tear-stained cheeks, jimin wouldn’t have guessed that she would run over to him. he wouldn’t have guessed that she would take the jasmines in her hand and place them above his ears.

“flowers are happy, you should be happy.” you had told him, with a dimpled smile, staring at him for a few seconds before running back to your mother, but he watched as you looked back at him till you left the corridor.

jimin felt the traces of love bloom in his heart for the first time.

now, he sees you, so tough and powerful and as his queen, but he remembers too well how you used to be and jimin fell for you then, unfortunately for him, he hadn’t gotten back up.

at some point in the night, the sleeves on your dress ride up and your eyes widen as you push them back down, you hurriedly look up to see if jimin has seen anything, you wait to see if his face twisted in disgust, but jimin only smiles, “you are so strong, your majesty. i wish i was more like you.”

he doesn’t speak about your tears.

or your scars.

or the fear on your face.

you know that he notices it all, but he doesn’t say a word.

you didn’t know that even if you weren’t the queen of the kingdom, you would still be jimin’s queen, hot or cold, kind or ruthless, heart or heartless, nothing could change that.

and jimin might have felt it when he was still a kid, but this was the first time, that something bloomed in your heart, you weren’t sure it was love, you were just sure that it was because of him.

weeks later, your kingdom was sealed, business halted and time as it was, didn’t move as you and your people prepared for the war.

tensions were high, and the kingdom got quieter as everyone waited for any news about their fate, you spent every minute with jimin, formulating and discussing plans that could bring you even a sliver of hope, and every minute, your heart unwillingly grew sprouts and flowers.

“hand over the kingdom to us and there will be no blood staining your land or else, your entire kingdom will drown.” your minister read the last sentence of the letter that was sent over to you that morning and you tried to resist the chill crawling on your back.

but you knew who it was from, a much more prosperous kingdom, a much more powerful kingdom with a king, not a queen, not like your weak kingdom.

you were powerful and you have won many wars but your opponent has colonized several countries at a time so realistically, your chances of surviving his quest were slim to none.

jimin eyed your tightening fists with a glint of worry and concern as your minister hung his head, solemn from the words he just read, “what do we say, your majesty?”

you knew the gravity of your decision here, you could either abandon your land and people, hand them over to a stranger, and not look back, because you knew even if you fought back, you would be weaker, you would lose.

but you also couldn’t turn your back on your people, your father and mother wouldn’t have done that, they wouldn’t have handed your people over, and they would have fought with everything they had.

sometimes, you just wish they would be beside you, gently guiding and firmly telling you what to do. sometimes, you wanted to crawl on your mother’s lap and cry until you couldn’t, sometimes, you just wanted your father’s hand on your head, telling you to be brave.

but your wishes remained wishes, hard decisions had to be solely made by you, whether you liked it or not.

“tell them, they will be the ones drowning, not us.” you feigned the confidence you knew your court needed, and seeing everyone’s face light up as their loud cheers echoed in your court, made it easy for you to say it, even if you knew it wasn’t true.

you would drown.

and never float back up.

all because you couldn’t be the queen your people needed.

you told yourself, that it was justified to give false hope to people whose hope was weathering, it was justified to lie to your court while knowing it would be gone in flames later, it was justified to fake your power for the flicker of relief that passed over their faces.

but jimin’s eyes stayed on your knuckles that turned white, your eyes that seemed dazed and he knew you were lying, his hand rested on his sword as he realized that the cheering people, were all waiting for their deaths.

“your majesty, a moment of your time.” jimin stayed outside the door until he heard your voice, allowing him in. you were sitting at the edge of your cot, chest heavy and breathing caught in your body.

“forgive me, your majesty, but you and i both know that you were lying.” he spoke, with confusion lacing his voice, you were always honest, you never lied for the sake of making someone feel better. “about what, general?” he didn’t recognize the strange, lifeless tone your voice had taken.

“that we are going to survive the quest.” jimin knew as much as you did, that your kingdom would be run to the ground, even if he thought you were the strongest of them all, he knew your kingdom would fall.

“we are going to survive it,” you lied through your teeth.

“we’re all going to die” jimin didn’t know why he was arguing with you, but he couldn’t help it, this was the first time his queen had lied and he needed to know why.

“oh general, i have died a long time ago” you laughed bitterly, your stomach twisting at your words, you felt sick, trapped in yourself, trapped in this palace that gave you all of the power but none of the relief that came with love. his gaze softened as, for the first time, tears flowed down your face like a river, as sobs escaped your chest without restraint, as you sunk to the floor with your hands tightly wrung the bedding.

you had died the day your parents didn’t come back, you had died when they placed a heavy crown on your tiny head as a kid, you had died when the sprinkle of someone else’s blood fell on your face, you had died when the people you fought for called you heartless.

you had died more times than you could count, one more time, even if it was for real this time, didn’t shake you at all.

it was dying without a touch of love decorating your skin, that truly scared you. you wished for a touch that wouldn’t unravel you but would hold you together, the way even a riptide, as dangerous as it is, longs for a shore to embrace, you want just a touch.

jimin should leave, his duty wasn’t this, his duty wasn’t to console a broken queen but jimin never stayed by your side as a duty, he stayed because it was where he belonged.

jimin sunk to his knees, his hands trembling to touch you, to let you lay on him and let years of your tears run down his chest, but he doesn’t want to be at the end of your sword, he wants to be at the end of your bed, watching you while you sleep and protecting you from the nightmares that plague you.

and then you surprise him.

jimin’s breath halts as he watches you reach for him, one frail hand in the air that beckons him closer and he follows wordlessly, sitting beside you and watching as your head finds his lap. you melt into his lap, fingers falling away from your body to hug his legs, a soft hum leaves your lips and jimin’s urge to protect you increases exponentially.

it's been a while since he has seen his queen be herself, and he knows as you grasp onto him for affection, that this was you finally giving up on maintaining an image, at least in front of him.

he slowly places a hand on your back, unsure if he was allowed to touch you the way you touched him, but you only bury your tear-stained cheeks into his legs and jimin relaxes, letting his hands travel on your back, his hands burned with love as he rubbed circles on your skin that coaxed more cries out of you, but this time, they weren’t out of pain, they were out of the relief of finally being touched with love.

“jimin,” you called out, so softly even if your voice dried out from the tears, so intimately that jimin wanted to curl up to you and forget everything else, “yes?”

no general.

no park jimin.

just jimin.

“i didn’t lie because i wanted to, the kingdom will die long before the war gets here, if i don’t lie, they need to hold onto something as we go into the war, they need to believe that they can survive to even fight.” and jimin sees it, the heart that your people denied that you had, you had thought of them before anything else and he smiles to the ceiling.

“after everything goes, you will be remembered as the greatest ruler our kingdom has ever seen,” he speaks sincerely, as his hands caress the lengths of your hair, which lulls you, your heart warms but you know it wasn’t true, “no one would remember me.”

“i would, in death and life, i will.”

you hadn’t expected to be satisfied with his answer but somehow, that was more than enough of you.

you always wished for a touch to make you feel loved, to make you feel anything but jimin’s words alone held you together and for the first time, you bore a heart that was heavier than you were, a heart that dragged you down, pulled you down and forced you to accept its size.

and you loved the enormity of affection you felt, especially that it was for the man who held you so gently even if he had seen you at your strongest.

“your majesty, i have a confession.”

“i think i know what you are going to say,” you might not have cared for other people, but you did notice things, you noticed the lingering looks jimin would give you, the smile that would grow on his face whenever you put your advisors in their place, the way his tone changed to something softer only when he talked to you, you had noticed it all.

you felt the same, maybe not as long as he had, but melted against him, you knew you wouldn’t feel this way for anyone else, except the person who stood by and protected you for so long.

“but if you allow me, i still want to say it.” you peered up from his lap with an amused smile, your general was more romantic than you had thought him to be, and jimin hadn’t thought your smile could be any more beautiful than it was in his dreams, but it was.

“you are allowed,” you face him, cheeks flushing and hands trapping his, “i love you, i’ve loved you since i knew what love was.”

you were only just learning love, as your skin touched his, as you sunk further into him, as you felt cocooned by his presence, as you felt his unwavering love for you through his touch but even if it was just now, you knew you felt the same.

but you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words, as a queen, were you allowed to profess love for someone else? with a war approaching, did you deserve to love as your kingdom ran to devastation?

you couldn’t say it, you couldn’t allow yourself the luxury.

you just nudged further into jimin’s body, squeezing his hand as a silent way of professing, ‘i feel the same, in my heart that’s beating after a long time, i feel what you do and i will tell you, i will tell you soon.’

jimin sighs in relief, his skin growing warm as your hands desperately try to tell him what your mouth can’t and he allows his body to drape over you, hands caressing your dress and brushing your hair away from your cheeks.

“i understand, my queen, i will wait.”

that night, everything changed for you, you had felt so defeated before the war even started but here you were, days later, hitting swords with jimin once again, a new kind of determination drummed in your attacks, you had to win the war, you had to be with jimin.

“your majesty, i’m afraid you are getting distracted,” jimin teases you as his sword nears your throat, with an amused scoff, you pull back to drag your sword on the ground and drive it up to the back of his head, “apparently, not as much as you, general.”

you both spent every quiet night together, in each other’s arms, in each other’s words and he professed his love to you every single day, even if you didn’t say it back, and he reminded you that your heart hadn’t died, it had just hidden away, but he certainly had wedged himself into it and it seemed to you that he would never leave.

jimin raises his sword in surrender, a chuckle leaving his lips once he sees you grin widely at his defeat.

“you are enjoying this too much,” he tuts at you, “i’m still your queen, jimin” you playfully scold him and he rolls his eyes at you, “and i’m still your general, your majesty.” he tips his invisible hat with a shit-eating grin and leaves you, flustered in the middle of the ground as he walks away to greet some new members of the army.

what was this feeling that consumed you, as your eyes refused to look away from his retracting figure?

a fluttering sense of calm danced around you, your usually restless heart had taken a steady, loud rhythm and you loved the world right now.

you felt as if everything was alright, as if the skies were always blue, as if the flowers always bloomed, as if you could fight a war and win it, just to keep this moment alive.

“your majesty!” a shrill voice broke your dreamy thoughts, and your head snapped to see your minister rushing down the hallway to reach you. you hold your arms over his shoulders to steady him as he breathes heavily.

“careful, minister.” he shook his head at your words, eyes pinching shut as he panted.

“they’ve gotten in, your majesty.”

and just like that, the feeling of victory faded from you.

“what are you talking about?” you couldn’t recognize how tight your voice sounded, how your hands twitched involuntarily to your sword, and how the air in your chest knocked out of you.

not now.

not so soon.

“we sealed every exit, minister, that is not possible” you desperately tried to dissuade what he was trying to tell you, he solemnly shook his head, “one of our own turned on us, they gave them entry into our kingdom, and several civilians were beheaded just a few minutes.”

your blood boiled.

for a minute, your eyes saw complete red as your hands shook beside your body, “how many, minister?” your voice didn’t contain your fury, nor your heartbreak.

“hundred and twelve, as of now, your majesty.”

in that minute, you knew you could slay an entire kingdom if you wanted to, you knew that if you were let loose, not a single soldier would be able to keep up with you. your people were supposed to be the last ones to get hurt, you were supposed to be protecting them and you failed.

“i’m assuming, the traitor has been caught?”

“yes, your majesty.” your minister’s eyes widened in fear as you pulled your sword out, “show him to me.”

that night, you scrubbed someone else’s blood off your face, and frustrated tears lined your eyes but the red never seemed to disappear, as you kept washing, more and more took its place, and soon, you gave up on getting it off, you had to accept that a part of you will always be stained with their blood.

the blood served as a reminder of the people you couldn’t save.

you had spent the evening, preparing for the war that would start tomorrow, it was finally declared by your opponent in another mocking letter, and providing aid to the families who lost their loved ones, each of their cries rang loudly in your ears even if hours passed.

water droplets dripped down your face as you sat once again, defeated before the war began, at the edge of your bed, but this time, a knock at your door filled you with relief.

jimin came in, exhausted as well, but his eyes zeroed on the red covering your arms and face, without a word, he took a washcloth, dipped it in water, and sat beside you.

his fingers nudged your hair away from your face and slowly, patiently, patted the blood away, shushing you as you broke down in tears in the middle.

that night ended in jimin’s arms, with a clean face and a lighter heart.

both of you didn’t know what would happen the next day, you just knew that you had to survive for each other.

“line up!” jimin’s yell filled the courtyard and all the soldiers jogged across it to surround him, “you all are aware, going in today, of the severity of the situation and what it could lead to, but i trust that my soldiers will still give their best, we all have homes to return to, keep that in mind. let it serve as a motivation for you to win this, help your fellow soldiers, and keep your focus.”

all of them were nervous, all of them had left home saying their final goodbyes to their families in case they never returned, but all of them also believed in their general and his words, rapid nods came as a response from them and they started preparing themselves mentally.

jimin gestured for them to move along and they all started embracing each other, comforting words poured into the space and they soon moved away to disperse.

in your changing room, your hands slid down the scars that covered you, after today, you were sure there were going to be even more, but somehow, you didn’t mind it as much. your maids placed the armor on you, tightening it around your body and you bit back a groan.

you didn’t know how many more of these wars you could fight.

suddenly, they all shuffled away, leaving the room, causing you to turn around, confused at their actions, only to see jimin entering the room.

“i don’t know why they ran away,” he said with comically raised eyebrows and you bit back a grin, “i’m sure they must have seen you leave my quarters in the morning.” his head fell back with a laugh as he stepped closer to you.

“that can’t be, i’m so discreet, like a ninja, you know?” you rolled your eyes at him, “you broke three vases just two days ago, jimin.” he kissed your temple as another laugh bubbled out of him, “maybe i’ll learn along the way.”

“maybe you will.”

you sighed as both of your smiles slipped, there was no telling if there was a way anymore but believing that there was, it was all you could do.

“how are the soldiers?” your eyes bore into his similar, armor-clad body that came up behind you in the mirror.

“just right, your majesty, don’t worry.” his arms came up to wrap around your body and your hands rested on his arms, a shuddering breath left your mouth as the gravity of today settled in even more.

maybe there won’t be a way, maybe you will never get to hold jimin like this again.

“before we go jimin, i want to tell you, like all of them, you have me, a home and i need you to come back for me,” that was the closest you could get to professing your love, your words were pleading, begging, even if your face was passive. jimin shakes his head, his hair rubbed onto your neck as he exhaled, “we both need to come back, i’m not letting this end here.”

after minutes passed of just being enveloped in each other’s warmth, you wished you could just ignore the war and stay in this room forever, with jimin, you wished you could ignore the possibility of losing him but the loud roars of your soldiers marching to the battlefield reminded you of who you were doing all of this for.

you were the queen, jimin was the general, and both of you had duties that couldn’t keep you locked in this room.

so, with a pained heart and arms that longed for each other even if only seconds passed, you both parted to step away from each other.

jimin reached for your headgear, taking his time to brush your hair and slip it on your head, the one thing you always let him do for you and you held back your tears as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. you reached for his hands and kissed the back of them, your tears soon fell on them and jimin’s resolve started breaking.

but he sniffed, pushing himself away and wiping your tears, “are you ready, my strongest queen?” he held out his hand with a wide, albeit painful smile on his face.

you put your hand in his, trying to stay strong, “whenever you are, general.”

and as you two stepped out, the warmth of his skin spread on you, his head dipping down to give you one final smile that was filled with his ever-growing love.

you felt scared that you might never see it again.

“i love you, your majesty.”

i love you unbelievably more.

“there will be a royal wedding to get ready for after this, be prepared, general.”

jimin winced as sand clouded his vision, he swung his sword aimlessly, hoping to catch his opponent, his ears were ringing from all the screams of agony around him, and when the blood splattered on his face, another scream rang much louder in his ear, causing him to look away.

another soldier who wouldn’t go home.

he whipped his head around, trying to catch sight of you in the midst of all the chaos, and after ducking and running under everyone around him, while slaying whoever he could in the way, he finds you.

a soldier fell at your feet and you took a huge breath, while looking around, only to catch jimin’s impressed face, you both smiled at each other, with red dripping down on your faces.

there was a chance.

you could win this and go back home to each other.

but soon, jimin got pushed into the chaos, and another, darker cloud of sand dusted across his face, forcing him to stand straight and attack again. he couldn’t see you again but he knew you were giving it your all, so he busied himself.

only a few more.

and he would be back with you.

they told him that you killed the most.

that you had fought bravely, and led your kingdom to victory.

that you were the queen that they would love and celebrate, even if centuries pass.

but how could jimin love and celebrate you, when he couldn’t hold you in his arms?

when your body was carried into the palace, it had taken everything in jimin to not set the entire palace on fire. to him, a palace without you, alive and breathing life into the building, was not a palace at all.

people held him when he cried, when he wanted to drive his sword into himself, when he would try to shake your body back to life, when he wouldn’t move away from your body, people put their arms around him and tried to lift him up.

but none of them could console him, all the promises you both had dreamed about vanished in front of his eyes and he blamed every single one of them, if they weren’t so harsh on you, if they didn’t call you heartless, you wouldn’t fight till death to prove that you did indeed have a heart, that you indeed had the biggest one.

jimin didn’t have too long to mourn, soon, the heavy crown was positioned on his head, they told him that it was your last request for him to look after the kingdom you had left behind, and once it was on him, he realized the weight you carried around your whole life, since you were only a kid.

they pulled all kinds of royal clothes on him, the materials itched, they burnt his skin, and the gold threads dug into his neck, as if the clothes were his own prison.

as he was made king, the kingdom rejoiced, they were finally getting a king, a true ruler, in their words, and jimin laughed in all their faces, their history would only have one true ruler, and it was you. no one could do what you did.

the throne felt wrong to jimin, as if he didn’t belong, but he knew this was what you wanted for the kingdom you loved so dearly, and jimin would always serve your needs.

he wished, as you had, for you to come and hold him when he had hard decisions to make, he wished to melt into your lap one last time to feel the warmth that ran away from him, he wished that you were right beside him, gently guiding and caring for him.

but he was left with only the ghost of your touch, that would forever haunt him.

jimin still got up every day, he put on the heavy crown and the irritating clothes and listened to the same blubbering idiots, the way you had, and he tried his best to be the ruler you were.

but at night, he crumbled away, dreaming of your touch and your love as he hugged your headgear closer.

jimin’s dreams remained dreams.

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sturnioloshacker · 6 months

Text

tampon prank escapade - a vinnie hacker short

a/n: requested by anon; lowercase intended

summary: a good old tampon becomes the source of a prank

i couldn’t hold back my mischievous grin and evil laughter as i pulled up vinnie's contact on facetime.

“hey, baby, i have a bit of a situation," i said, faking my distress upon seeing his cute face.

“what's wrong, love?” vinnie's concerned voice crackled through the phone.

“i, uh, i can't get my tampon out," i replied, trying my best to sound embarrassed.

vinnie's eyes widened in shock and i had to try and keep my composure seeing his eyes almost pop out of their sockets/

“what? are you serious?"

“yeah, i don't know what to do. i might need your help." i said, stifling a giggle.

a mix of panic and confusion washed over vinnie as he hung up our facetime call. within 5 minutes, a personal best, he arrived at my place armed with concern and a somewhat awkward determination. i open the door, looking both relieved and apologetic.

“thanks for coming so quickly, bub. i was just kidding, though."

“you what?" he gasped, jaw dropping in pure astonishment.

i burst into laughter.

“gotcha! i just wanted to see how fast you'd rush to my rescue."

“you’re unbelievable. i was honestly ready to grab a pair of scissors and do some grey’s anatomy shit on you!”

“oh my god, please don’t ever suggest that again!”

“then don’t prank me like that!”

“so you really did fall for it!”

“yes! you had me stressed for my life! i was ready to pull it out or even take you to the emergency room so that nurses can surgically remove it!”

“oh my god, vinnie!” at this point, i’m in tears at my poor boyfriend who is so frazzled.

“alright, you win this round. but just so you know, i’m plotting my revenge."

oh no, i started a prank war. now i’m definitely going to understand the meaning of ‘payback’s a bitch’.

#vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker fanfic #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker x reader

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sol-thorne-shitpost · 1 year

Text

I am once again having a thought™ and I just went on a full-on rant to a friend, thought I'd share my thoughts with y'all to see if anyone agrees.

Yes, it's about Hadesgame Patrochilles, buckle up.

Currently reading the Iliad, I noticed that not only are Achilles and Patroclus extremely well-written in Hades (that we're all aware of, I think), but also that there are many many layers to their relationship and the one they have with Zagreus.

First thing that hit me while reading the og Patrochilles and how they're written is how drastically different they are in Hades compared to their original alive selves. They're basically each the complete opposite of what they were when they were alive: Achilles, once prideful, arrogant and impulsive, once his rage was appeased, now became wise, patient, calm, an actually good mentor to Zagreus, in whom he must see a lot of his younger self. Patroclus, on the other hand, once famously gentle and kind, became bitter and dismissive. That can easily be explained by the fact that decades and decades alone after death can drastically change someone. Achilles, so guilty about what his pride did to Patroclus, matured and became wiser; and Patroclus, because of years alone abandoned, lost his faith in the glory of war (and in Achilles).

They basically became the opposite of what they were when they were alive, because of years of loneliness and longing and reflecting on this war they were a part of.

BUT THAT'S NOT ALL GUYS. When you dig a bit (mostly by chatting with Achilles and listening to Patroclus ramble to himself), you learn that what made them mostly change, aside from the circumstances of their deaths, is their longing for each other, and that despite all that change, they both retain the ONE TRAIT that caused their deaths.

Achilles, even in death, remains unbelievably stubborn, unshakable in his decisions (or in this case, his decision to stay away from Patroclus so that he can rest in Elysium) until Patroclus (through Zagreus) manages to shake him out of it.

And Patroclus, ever so bitter and depressed Patroclus, remains deeply kind and generous. He broods there in his glade, but when Zagreus shows up, polite, just passing by, in need of help, Patroclus offers him what little he has to keep going.

It drives me insane to see that after dying, Patroclus is the one who became impulsive and ready to 'risk it all', because he simply has nothing left to lose. Meanwhile, Achilles, so scarred by Patroclus' death (caused by him and his hubris and his pride), is terrified of risking anything, because the one thing he has left to lose is Patroclus' place in Elysium, and he simply can't bring himself to understand that Patroclus wants to be by his side anywhere rather than alone up there.

And they could have never reconciled without Zagreus' intervention. Because somehow, Zagreus is a mirror of both of them, in his own way.

And because on top of being impusilve and stubborn (like Achilles) as well as kind and caring (like Patroclus), Zagreus is the one guy down here, the only one who fights against his fate with all his goddamn might.

Because he wants to see his mother. He wants to find his place in this world. He wants to be acknowledged and respected. So he fights, against the Fates themselves (by just being alive, he does, I'll remind), against Hades, to get what he wants. Achilles and Patroclus both succumbed to their own destinies in the worst way. Of course it would resonate with them.

Maybe I'm thinking too hard about this. But there are so many parallels to draw here! Think about Achilles, who practically raised Zagreus, instructed him in myths, history, combat and arms. Seeing this kid, a prince, gifted for combat, craving for recognition and respect? That would ring a bell. And Zagreus is already a dual kind of person, he's the red eye and the green eye, he's the Olympian and the goddess with a mortal father. He's rage and fierceness (Achilles) and he's kindness and generosity (Patroclus).

And Zagreus hates the status quo. In his own life, and in the one of others. He does this for multiple people in Hades (Sisyphus, Orpheus and Eurydice, Hypnos and Thanatos, Nyx and Chaos...), he just can't stand people suffering when he knows there is something that could be done. He rattles the house and wreaks havoc in his father's well-ordered world, because he knows damn well he's the only one with enough balls to do it.

The thing is that if Zagreus had never intervened, Achilles and Patroclus would never have seen each other. Achilles took the first step toward redemption by giving up his place in Elysium (his glory, his pride, what he fought so hard for) so that Patroclus could stay there instead, as a way of apologizing for what he did to him and atone for his mistakes; but after that, he was left frozen in his own guilt, refusing to try and think of a way to see Patroclus again. And Pat, well... He's given up. Like how he gave up on reasoning with Achilles back in Troy. So he just waits there, even he doesn't know what for. It takes this bisexual disaster of a god to barge in and shake things up, until Patroclus finally reached out to Achilles, gives him that message (risk it all), the last push Achilles needed to finally move.

So yeah I just think they're neat-

This concludes my thought™.

#hades #hades game #patrochilles #the iliad #tsoa #achilles #patroclus #zagreus #supergiant hades #so yeah what you have to conclude from this is that Zag should gain a new pair of dads-#I am very normal about them #sol brainrot hours

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badass-queer-couples-battle · 7 months

Note

Don't you think it's funny cause actual canon gay characters in BL manga will say "I love you" but only the shounen bromance can spew out some of the most romantic shit akin to a 19th century poet writing a letter expressing his surpressed love for his lover 😭.....

Genuniely can't tell if it's bait or not, but I'm going to treat this ask seriously anyway.

Here, have some examples of beautiful and poetic expressions of love in BL media!

I'm going to start with my favourite murder husbands, Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu from Word of Honor/Faraway Wanderers!

This happens in episode nine, less than one third into the story- it's that early, they've known each other for like a week and are already able to tell they're meant to be. They've made their decision to be together, and over the course of the story:

They defend each other multiple times and fight side by side in multiple episodes, sometimes protecting their adopted kid/mentee Chengling as well

Zhou Zishu is willing to go against the whole martial arts society for his boyfriend. With zero hesistation, might I add.

They both know the other has done horrible things (lots of murder on both sides here) and that's not only okay, it's a big part of why they're soulmates and get each other so well!

Zhou Zishu is slowly dying (poisoned nails in his chest, long story) and Wen Kexing can and will risk his life to save him. Don't worry, they get a happy ending both in the show and the novel even if the show's last episode is behind a paywall and Netflix didn't even include it for some reason?

But enough about them, let's move on to the immortal fantasy genre boyfriends Hua Cheng and Xie Lian from Heaven Official's Blessing!

Please note how Hua Cheng is ready to accept Xie Lian in whatever state he's currently in- as a god, a fallen outcast, even grieving and angry and at his absolute lowest. He's stood by Xie Lian in his worst moments, even if at the time Xie Lian had no idea it was him.

Hua Cheng has loved Xie Lian for 800 years, ever since he was a boy Xie Lian saved from falling to his death during a procession.

Xie Lian became a god, then fell due to horrible circumstances, almost committed a war crime against another nation that destroyed his country, spend 800 years wandering the mortal realm as a poor cultivator with his powers greatly reduced, and eventually ascended to become a god again. Throughout it all, Hua Cheng loved him and did his best to help him and then find him.

They're both adorable and the definition of a power couple once they're reunited- no spoilers, but they eventually fight an incredibly powerful god side by side and win & the last scene in the story is them reuniting for good since there's no more obstacles to their immortal love.

Let's move on to my favourite Japanese BL, Our Dining Table (also available as a series that came out semi-recently, but the examples below are from the manga.)

Yutaka is a lonely salesman who meets Minoru, a restaurant worker and his much younger brother Tane grieving the death of their mother.

Yutaka and Minoru hit it off by bonding through food they cook and share. The series is incredibly heartwarming, and as seen above Yutaka becomes a much happier person thanks to both his new relationship and big brother-like bond with little Tane.

As a little bonus, the whole found family together!

This post can't be complete without Golden Stage (or Golden Terrace, as the English official translation calls it).

Fu Shen and Yan Xiaohan aren't even in love at this point! This is at the beginning of the story, when their marriage has just been arranged by the emperor and they're still bitter rivals.

Yan Xiaohan is already protective of his future husband- later on, he also builds him a mansion meant to accommodate his disability (nerve damage in both legs, which requires a wheelchair and/or crutches). They're both incredibly powerful military generals, and the emperor was an idiot thinking an arranged marriage would humiliate them.

Of course they fall in love, of course they're a power couple, of course they send each other letters through trained geese when they're separated during the war, of course they run to each other as fast as they can across a wide cold river when they're finally reunited! Of course they're important to me!

....Aaand how about some Wangxian to wrap up this post? They need no introduction, an absolutely wonderful and complex relationship in a complex fantasy/intrigue story available in several forms - the books, the animated series (as seen above), the live action series, the audio drama, there's so much!

Some of their most beautiful moments:

Lan Wangji writing a song for Wei Wuxian and naming it Wangxian. Years after it's composed, Wei Wuxian plays it and LWJ is able to recognise him even in a different body.

LWJ begs WWX to come with him to Cloud Recesses, to safety, after WWX makes himself an enemy of the whole cultivation world for protecting innocent people.

They confront the final villain together, and work together to expose his crimes. This is also when their final love confession happens, and it's hilarious- in front of everyone's salad, WWX declares he also wanted to sleep with LWJ.

Despite censorship, the animated series was still able to allude to their wedding, showing them in red wedding robes (unfortunately can't find a gif rn)

Respectfully, if you genuinely think BL doesn't have beautiful love confessions and displays of romance, you need to find better BL.

#bqcb asks #mdzs #golden stage #golden terrace #word of honor #woh #bokura no shokutaku #our dining table #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #wangxian #hualian

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roosterforme · 2 years

Text

No Nut November I Top Gun Dagger Squad edition

Summary: When left to their own devices for too long, the Dagger Squad aviators usually got up to no good.

Warnings: Humor, adult banter, smut, ridiculousness

Length: 1700 words

Pairing: a mention of Rooster x girlfriend and Payback x hookup

Check my masterlist for more!

When left to their own devices for too long, the Dagger Squad aviators usually got up to no good. As they finished a group run and headed into the gym for some weight training, one such conversation began to take form.

"Halloween was fun last night," Phoenix said with a yawn. "The Hard Deck was wild though."

"Yeah," Fanboy agreed, shaking his head as he got a bench press set up. "Crazy! But November is a way more chill month."

Hangman snickered. "Chill? You think No Nut November is chill?"

Coyote shook his head as he did some squats. "It's the roughest month of the year!"

A bubble of laughter escaped Bob. "What's No Nut November? Like no peanuts?

"More like no penis," drawled Hangman. "Or vagina," he added when he saw the look Phoenix was giving him. "It's a competition. You try to stay ejaculation free for the entire month. Who's game?"

"Count me out," Rooster promptly said. "My girlfriend will absolutely not go for this."

"Come on, Rooster," Payback said. "You don't even have to tell her you're participating."

Rooster stared at him in confusion. "I think she might notice something's up if I go from being balls deep inside her at least once a day to giving her nothing!"

"There are workarounds, Rooster. Don't you ever use your mouth for anything other than whining?" Phoenix asked, earning laughs from the others.

"Hmmm," Rooster rolled his eyes at her and contemplated how he could get away with participating.

"Well, if it's a competition, what does the winner get?" Bob asked.

"The satisfaction of knowing they aren't weak minded," Hangman informed him. "And I'll hang up a gold star outside the locker rooms that says 'Ejaculation Champ' with their name on it. Now, who's in?"

"Yeah," Payback said with a nod as he picked up a barbell.

"I'll do it," Fanboy added.

"Me too," agreed Coyote.

"Sure, sounds intriguing," Bob said with a nod.

"I...will hesitantly say yes. I will probably regret this," Rooster said with a sigh.

The guys all turned and looked at Phoenix who was stretching before she started weight training. "Oh, I'm already out. I lost."

Rooster's brow scrunched up. "What do you mean you're already out? It's November 1st at 9:30 in the morning."

Phoenix just smirked at the boys. "I had a guest over last night," she said coyly.

"Legendary," Fanboy muttered. "You've got more game than all of the rest of us combined."

"Are you kidding me?" asked Hangman. "Less than ten hours into the month and you're already out? I'm actually kind of impressed."

Phoenix just shrugged. "The gold star would have been nice, but it was worth it."

Hangman sighed and turned back to the guys. "We've all got to be one hundred percent truthful. If you nut, you're out. And you need to admit to it."

The guys all agreed. And thus the month of November became a thing of legend.

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

On November 6th, Coyote woke up with morning wood. He got all comfy in bed and took care of himself. "No better way to start your day," he muttered as he cleaned himself up. "Oh, shit!"

He had fucking forgotten about the bet!

When he got to base and saw the guys, he just shook his head.

"You nutted!" accused Fanboy immediately.

"Yeah," Coyote admitted. "I just completely forgot about the bet, and I....jerked off this morning." He winced, and the guys looked at him with disdain.

"Well you can kiss that gold star goodbye," Hangman told him. "Everyone else hanging in there?"

"Yeah," they all said in unison.

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

On November 10th, Fanboy hit up his favorite movie theater for throwback night. They were showing Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, one of his all-time favorites.

He settled in with his bucket of popcorn, ready to enjoy the film. But then disaster struck. Maybe it was because he'd already gone too long without masturbating, or maybe it was because she was just so hot, but as soon as he saw Princess Leia in her golden, slave bikini, he was rock hard.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered, still hard by the time the movie ended. He had to hold the popcorn bucket in front of his shorts on the way to his car. "Okay, pull it together, man." But by the time he got back to his apartment, he was panting and in pain.

"I can't make it!" he said, carefully taking his shorts off and touching himself. The relief was immediate, but the disappointment he felt would surely linger.

The next day on the tarmac, he told the others, "It was the damn bikini! It had me in its sights, and I didn't stand a chance! I could have made it through The Empire Strikes Back, no problem! I should have known better!"

Hangman, Rooster, Bob and Payback all sized each other up. Shit was getting real.

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

By November 15th, Rooster estimated he'd gone down on his girlfriend about a hundred times so far this month. This wouldn't have been a problem for him at all, except now his jaw was starting to ache, and she was desperately trying to reciprocate.

"You're so good, baby," she moaned as she came on his face.

Rooster gritted his teeth and dug his nails into his palms. "Anything for you, honey," he grunted. God, he was painfully hard, and now she was crawling across the bed toward him.

"You want me to go down on you now?" she asked, reaching for his shorts.

"No! Tonight is all about you!" he practically yelled at her.

She pouted a bit. "You've been saying that for weeks, Rooster. And now you're acting really weird. I want to make you feel good too."

"No! Ummm, let me finger you instead!" he shouted. "Lay down, honey. I got you."

But two nights later, he was outmaneuvered by her. As soon as she came from the pleasure his fingers and mouth provided, Rooster was rubbing his throbbing jaw and trying to think about something un-sexy. But she lunged for his boxers, pulled them down and ran her tongue along his dick.

"Honey, no!" he groaned, but it felt too good. Two more strokes of her tongue, and Rooster was panting and spurting his cum all over her face.

She looked up at him in shock. "That was fast."

Rooster paced around the gym on base the next day. "I'm out, okay? I'm out." He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. "I swear I tried my best! Plus I think I have permanent damage to my jaw! It's aching from how many times I went down on her!"

Payback cocked his head. "But if you were avoiding intercourse, how are you out?"

Rooster looked slightly crazed now. "She licked me! She licked me three times and I came all over the fucking place! And now she's concerned that I should talk to my doctor about premature ejaculation! I was out there in the trenches, fighting for my life, and now she thinks I have a disorder!"

The guys all nodded in solemn understanding.

Phoenix cracked up. "You're all idiots, I swear."

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

Payback had been so careful. He really wanted that gold star. It was November 28th, and he was feeling optimistic about his chances of winning.

"I've got this," he announced, bragging while playing pool at the Hard Deck. "The gold star is mine, dickheads."

Bob and Hangman would cave. He just knew it.

Then the cutest girl he'd ever seen started hitting on him. "Can I buy you a drink?" she asked shyly, and he was putty in her hands.

An hour later they were kissing next to the jukebox. An hour after that, she was touching him under his shirt.

"Okay, I'm out guys! I had a good run! See you tomorrow!" he announced merrily as he left the bar with her.

"Saw that coming from a mile away," Hangman drawled, sinking the eight ball. He knew he would make it to December 1st, because he knew he was mentally stronger than the rest of them. He prided himself on it.

So Hangman went to bed that night with a satisfied smile on his face. He woke up the next morning with a mess in his sheets.

He didn't even want to show his face at work, and he considered calling out sick. He managed to make it almost all the way out onto the tarmac by his F/A-18 when Payback and the others cornered him.

"You're looking really suspicious, man," Payback accused. "You're out, aren't you?"

Hangman nodded hoping to quickly steer the topic elsewhere. "Yes, I'm out. Congratulations, Bob. You win the gold star, man."

Bob pumped his fist in the air, and the rest congratulated him on his nutless month.

But it was with untrusting eyes that Rooster turned back toward Hangman, who was trying to sneak up the ladder into his aircraft. "Hey, Hangman! How did you get eliminated?"

"It's not important," he mumbled in response.

"Come on, everyone else admitted to how they got out," Rooster replied. "Couldn't be worse than ejaculating after a tongue touched you for approximately two seconds."

"Couldn't be worse than getting hard to Star Wars," Fanboy chimed in with a self-deprecating smile.

Hangman cradled his head in his hand. "Ihadawetdream."

Phoenix howled and bent in half laughing, but the guys all stepped a little closer to hear him better. "Sorry, you what?" asked Coyote.

"I had a wet dream!" Hangman shouted. "Okay? Happy now?"

And now the guys were howling along with Phoenix.

"Yes, hilarious," Hangman drawled. "How did you manage to win, Bob?"

Bob smiled serenely at everyone. "Oh, I practice mindful meditation for stress relief. Plus, my wife has been in Europe for work all month, so it was quite easy."

Bob jumped back as the guys all shouted at him in bewilderment. "You're married?!"

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

This fic is ridiculous!

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

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#top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #hangman fic #rooster fic #top gun imagine #no nut november

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