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delulustateofmind · 13 days

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Marriage-Life (One-shot)

A/n: Thank you all for all the love on the Between Worlds series! I promise an update next week. This is just something I thought about while on my walk with my dog :) SUPER FLUFFY!

**Also, it is unedited so fair warning, like a rough draft!**

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Collections of domestic life with Azriel, married/mated for fifty years.

Warnings: Fluff & crack at times, drinking, some intimate moments. Pet names (Sweetness, My Love, Baby)

Azriel the spymaster was your mate, the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Balancing life with a spymaster was no easy feat. Azriel’s frequent absence on risky missions tested the boundaries of your marriage at times. Yet, amidst the challenges, you found solace in the ways he made up for his prolonged departures.

Like sleepless nights in bed after a long mission…

As you settled in settled into bed, with Azriel lying on your chest, his breathing growing heavy as his eyes were closing. A question tugged at your lips. “Would you…’ you began, hesitating for a moment. ‘Yes, I would love you if you were a worm,’ Azriel hummed, his warm breath grazing your skin.

“Love me if I was a snail” You finished, feeling Azriel’s smirk form against your chest. He gave a soft nip on your breast. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he opened his eyes to look up at you. The hazel eyes looked up at you with amusement you could see his smirk turn smug.

“Oh sweetness, that changes things” he drawled as he sat up a little, pushing himself up to see your face. You bit your lip trying not to giggle as he continued.

“I mean, are you a normal snail? Like could I tell you apart from all of the other little snails?” Azriel began, his deep voice filled with a teasing tone. His hand roaming your bonds, fingers caressing your curves.

You stifle a laugh as his fingers find ticklish spots, “I would be a cute snail, one that you could distinguish from the others”

“A very cute snail…but the fact remains. You would still be a snail” Azriel hummed as he ran his fingers across your curves again. His gaze goes down to your body and back to your lips and then your eyes with a playful grin. A grin that only you ever saw. “I would feel so guilty if I stepped on you by mistake. Can’t have that, can we?”

Giving him a playful pout, you look at him innocently. “Are you saying…that you wouldn’t love me if I was a snail?” you whisper to him in a soft gaze, as you notice his movements. Azriel grinned again, pushing himself onto his elbows against you as he moved closer to you. His wings continued to drape across the both of you.

“What I’m saying is I would always have to worry about stepping on you if you were a snail. Which would make being married to you quite the headache.” His hand once rested on the curve of your waist, moved its way to your collarbone then your jawline, and finally to your chin. Tilting your head as he brings himself closer to whisper on your lips. “How about you stay fae my love, maybe in another universe we could be snails together. But this one, I would love to be fae with you.” A gentle kiss was planted on your lips, which led to you both having a very sleepless night.

****

Azriel never really had much of a sweet tooth, in fact, he typically stayed away from sweets until he met you. When you both got married, you would try out a new cafe once a month, sometimes going to the same one if their seasonal menu changed.

“Let’s get ice cream today, it’s starting to get so warm out.” You whined as you slipped on a sundress. Azriel in the middle of brushing his teeth as he shrugged and gave the confirming nod.

One of the best things about Azriel was that he always tried to match your outfits. If you wore a blue ribbon in your hair, he would wear a blue button-up shirt. If you wore a floral sundress, he would find a shirt that matched one of the colors. Today wearing a blue floral sundress, he opted for a light blue button-down and khaki slacks. One of which, he never owned any colorful clothing or anything other than his leathers and a few formal outfits until you two met.

Once you were both ready, Azriel took you on a flight down to the Palace of Hoof and Leaf. A district is known for its food. Once landed, you both walked hand in hand. Shadows trailing the both of you as you walked. Azriel’s huge hand compared to yours as he guided you to a cafe.

“Feyre mentioned this place the other day” he began as he guided you through the busy streets. His wings were tightly tucked in. “I guess they make the ice cream look cute, like little bears and pigs” he gave you a warm smile as you trailed next to him, giving him a confirming squeeze with your hand.

The streets were packed today, the market was selling spices, the smell of delicious food filled the air, and merchants trying to gather attention as people walked past. It wasn't until after a few blocks away, that you noticed a cute pastel pink building that had “Ice Cream” written in a beautiful cursive font on the window. You moved your hand from his, moving it towards his bicep as you both walked to the front doors. When you grasped his muscle, he flexed. The pastel-pink building exuded a quaint charm, its exterior adorned with delicate floral motifs that seemed to dance in the sunlight. Inside, the decor was equally inviting, with plush cushions and paintings on flowers on the walls. Along with cute stuffed animals on shelves around the parlor. A beautiful fae girl led you both to a table and placed a menu in front of you both. Azreil looked at you. “Order anything you want. I will just share with you”

The menu was filled with a tempting array of ice cream parfaits, each more enticing than the last. Ranging from little animal-themed ones to flower ones You ended up ordering the panda, and right when you ordered you noticed there was a drink menu that showed an adorable foam cat latte. You order it as well obviously. Azriel smirks as he looks at you with a smile. People in the ice cream parlor glanced over. A smile from the threatening looks of the spymaster was quite rare.

You both talked about what other errands you both needed to run, a market trip was due. Luckily Azriel won’t have a mission for a while but will be training with the Valkyrie and having to go to Hewn City soon. As you both talked, you very impatiently waited for the dessert, Azriel held your hand across the table. He was rubbing his finger across the top of your hand.

“I appreciate you” He whispered so softly that you almost didn’t catch it. You give him a warm smile “I appreciate you too and everything you do.”

After what seemed like forever!

The ice cream and latte finally arrived, you looked at the ice cream with a pout and looked at him.

“I don’t think I can eat it, it’s too cute” you pout as you look down at the panda ice cream staring up at you. Azriel had already taken the latte and was about to sip it. As he raised a brow.

“Shall I eat it for you” he teased, flashing a playful grin as he took a sip of the cute cat latte. Something about this intimidating creature sipping a cute cat latte caused your heart to flutter. A blush made its way across your face, even after fifty years of marriage, he still makes you have butterflies in your tummy. You reluctantly used your tiny spoon that was given to you, to poke the face of the little panda ice cream ball on top. Tasting the ice cream, it was a cookies and cream flavor. So cute and so delicious. Azriel teased you by claiming you’re murdering him. You would flash him a playful glare which would cause him to laugh. It was moments like these, that you enjoyed being married to him.

***

Drunken nights, meant drunken mates.

Azriel arrived at Rita’s to find his mate giggling drunk next to Feyre who was being led away by Rhysand. Azriel’s mate however was still sipping on her drink as he walked over.

“Sorry, I have a mate,” you slurred, raising a hand to Azriel’s face as he approached.

“Oh, do you? Is he handsome?” He teased in a low voice, taking a seat next to you. His wing brushing against your shoulder.

“The most handsome man in the whole world, let me tell you if he caught you right now, you would be catching his hands” You drawled with a drunken grin as you sipped the rest of your cocktail.

Azriel covered his mouth covering a laugh, “Is that so? So he’s like super powerful.” He teased, his tone holding amusement. One of his shadows trailing around your arm.

You notice it and giggle, “Yeah, my mate has these little shadow things too” You point at the shadow and show it to him. He laughs a bit harder and leans closer to you. You almost immediately recognize him.

“Hello! My mate!” You giggle as you lean your head on his shoulder. His arm slipped around your waist. “When did you get here, there was such a strange man here” you giggle as he holds you close, placing his chin on top of your head.

“Just now, how about we head home? Hm?” He hums as he plays with a strand of your hair, leaning back a little to slide a hand under your chin to tilt your face to his to see your drunken smile with a red flush on your cheeks.

“Can we walk a little?” You smile up at him as you slur a little.

“Can you even walk?” He teases in a low tone, “If you can then sure”

He pays the tab and walks with you out. A hand firmly on your waist to stop you from stumbling when you both walk the streets of Velaris. If anyone even looks at you stumble they’re met with the glare of the spymaster. You notice a pigeon leaving his arms and make your toward it.

Tears stream down your face.

Oh fuc- Azriel almost thought you were about to throw up but here you are giving the pigeons coins while crying.

“Baby please, he’s homeless” You give Azriel a longing look as big alligator tears stream down your face.

“The pigeon?” Azreil covers his mouth from laughing, there’s no way his mate is crying about a bird on the street. This is one of her more normal moments.

“Yes, and he’s so poor. I mean he had no pockets!” you slurred as your voice cracked feeling so bad for the poor pigeon.

“I’m sure he’s fine love, please leave the pigeon alone,” he says quietly as he pulls you up. Perhaps, winnowing home would be for the best.

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar #acotar azriel #shadowsinger #pls I need this man

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jarofstyles · 1 month

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Buttercream

Hello my loves! This is the first part to our Patreon exclusive series, Buttercream. The ready is available on Patreon (over 18 parts) and is still being updated. You all asked to see what’s available to read and I’m giving you sneaks of it!

A series featuring an Alpha Architect Harry, a bossy bakery owning omega Y/N, the sweetest treats taste tested and some steamy smut.

Check out our Patreon for all parts of the series and 150+ exclusive writings.

——-

The smell kept him coming back.

In his life, Harry had been to a quite a few bakeries. He could be considered an expert on fudge brownies, a specialist on cupcakes and the swirls of icing, a connoisseur of croissants. He treated himself a bit too often, if his mother had anything to say with it. His sweet tooth had always been prevalent in his life.

The new bakery down the road from his job, though? That had made him a true problem.

Every day before work, he stopped. Suit and all, pulling into the parking lot and nearly drooling the moment he got out. His feet carried him towards the door and the smell hit him immediately. Sweet buttercream, frothy vanilla, spiced cinnamon, and… something else. That something else that had him nearly vibrating, and now on a mission to have the whole menu to figure out just what the hell that scent was.

It was intoxicating. Mesmerizing. If Harry didn’t have work, he would spend hours just sitting here to smell it. It had a weird hold on him, and he didn’t quite know how to ask if it was an air freshener. That was unlikely for anywhere but restrooms anyways considering how offensive it could be for the noses of alpha’s and omegas alike. A bad scented one could send them into moods. Or even sickness. The sense of smell was very important.

“Mr.Styles.” The teen manning the cash register saluted him. He came in every day and was known to the cashiers, so he had ruled out it being one of them. Thank god. They were either young enough to not have a scent or too old for it to be possible. “What will it be today? Y/N’s been whipping up a storm for the holidays. New recipes. We’ve got a peppermint bark brownie that would go well with the peppermint mocha you like.” She chirped, watching as he scanned the cases.

Harry was a little intimidating but he was exceptionally charming. He smiled, he conversed, he tipped well, but he always seemed to be looking around. Trying to find something that no one could really place. The bakery was empty besides a mum and her friend with their kids, munching on treats and coffee as they watched the traffic go by. It wasn’t them. Harry’s ears did perk up when he heard an unfamiliar name.

“Y/N?” He asked, tilting his head as his attention went back to the cashier. “Who’s that? The owner?” Harry had never met the owner. For some reason, every time he came in the morning she had stepped out for her own break. It didn’t bother him so long as his compliments to the baker got passed along, but hearing her name stirred something in his chest.

“Yep.” She popped the p in her word. “She’s awesome. She started this all on her own after she went viral on the internet. She got the funds from online orders. You see the custom cakes and stuff but she does awesome experimental flavors. She doesn’t care if they’re hits or misses and let’s us go home with leftovers.” There was obvious pride to be working for someone like Y/N. It peaked his interest.

“Oh?” He asked, leaning his body against the counter. “That’s incredible. I’d be very happy to taste some of the new things.” He flashed a smile, tapping his card against the wood of the counter. “What would you think Y/N would suggest?” And why did saying her name make him feel silky and hot? Like it was meant to live on his lips? They tingled as the word left his mouth, making him shift his stance slightly. His skin was buzzing slightly as he heard someone else come from the back.

“She would suggest the peppermint bark brownies, the s’mores donut, the lemon cream cookie and the chili chocolate cupcake. Spice and sweet work surprisingly well together.” The airy voice went to his bones.

Harry could smell it fully now. The scent that laced the bakery was now engulfing him. Filling the space, making him inhale it with each breath. His hand tightened on the card, curling into a fist at his side as he caught a glimpse of her. She had been the source. It wasn’t a baked good or a cashier, but it was the baker herself that was making him addicted to the sweets laced with her scent.

He was silent as he observed her, a smile quirked on her lips. Slightly glossy and deliciously plump as she greeted the cashier with a simple hey and asking her to go to the back to grab the other new tray of cinnamon buns. Sliding them on to the rack, she used her hip to gently nudge the counter open and grabbed one for Harry.

“Here. On the house.” She slid the bag over to him with her soft simper, hands tapping on the wood.

She was marvelous.

Harry was speechless. Something he never usually was- the alpha could talk to a brick wall if he needed to- but this sweet little omega has been slowly hypnotizing him with her scent over the course of a month and now he was finally seeing her. He loved delayed gratification, a fan of edging, but this? He wished he had seen her far earlier.

“Hi.” He peeped. His face looked like he saw a ghost. The woman in front of him was like a mirage- and he wasn’t trying to be dramatic. He swore she was familiar to him in some way. Some how. She was all omega in the ways that called to him. The curve of her face and her soft voice… he could have started purring if he didn’t have some semblance of self control in his body.

“Hi.” She returned the greeting with a soft chuckle that heated his chest. “I hope you like the suggestions. I recognized your voice. You’ve been in here every morning we’re open and I figured it was about time to meet the loyal customer.” She chirped, brushing the stray hair that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ears. The adorably disheveled look added to her appeal.

A candy apple red apron was dusted with various baking material, tied around her waist snug. It showed the curve of her waist went deeper than what he could tell under her sweatshirt that appeared to have the bakery name printed on it. A swipe of flour was decorating her forehead, like she had wiped hair from her face and simply forgot about flour coated hands. Little details he was memorizing to think about later.

“I love the smell.” He blurted out. Immediately, he winced. That hadn’t been what he had meant to say, at least how he had meant to say it. Heat crept up further under his cheeks as he opened and closed his mouth, watching her giggle a bit as he tried to find his bearings.

“Fucking hell- I meant to say, I love your bakery. It smelled amazing when I went past it so I decided to stop in a few weeks ago and now it’s become a part of my daily routine. I bring in pastries for the office.”

“Aren’t you a star coworker.” She cooed, turning from him with a wink as she grabbed one of the red boxes and began to construct it. “They must love you at the office. I have on good authority that the one that brings the snacks, gets the pats on the back. Especially hand made, beautifully crafted baked goods.” She teased, opening up the case and beginning to place some sweets into it.

“I’d hope they like me. I’m their boss.” He laughed quietly, scratching the back of his neck. Never has he felt more like a schoolboy talking to a playground crush. He was head to toe in a suit good enough to meet his best clients, and a girl with flour on her face was sending him to his knees. Each time she moved, a gentle waft of her scent was given his direction and made that ever loved self control hang by a thread.

“Ooooo. Bossman.” She grinned, wiggling her brow as she placed another iced brownie with crushed peppermint bark sprinkled on top into the box. “Should have guessed. Love the suit, by the way. You look very handsome.”

That little compliment made his day. The pretty omega with the prettier smile and mouthwatering scent thought he looked handsome. That would be lingering in his brain all day. How she thought he was handsome. The casual compliments.

“Thank you.” He preened. “We do interior and exterior design for businesses. Up and coming places and remodels. So if you ever need a guy- I’m here.” He placed his hands in his pockets and lifted up on his toes rocking back and forth.

“Oooo. Is it that bad in here? Do I need a renovation?” She sucked her teeth, tilting her head. It had him freezing, mouth falling open to grovel. He hadn’t meant to offend her at all, hadn’t tried to insinuate it needed a remodel.

“Shit- no, I’m sorry. It’s very cute in here, I didn’t mean to insinuate it needed any help. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how it would sound-“

“Cool it, bossman.” She cooed, laughing at how he had nearly fallen over himself. “I’m just messing with you. The place does need some exterior work, actually. I hadn’t had the budget when we first started, nor the time. But I didn’t take any offense to it. You’ve got to market yourself. Don’t worry.” Her reassurance made him melt into relief, leaning into the counter. This whole encounter had him feeling a bit on edge in the weirdest way. He wanted to snuggle this woman, yet he was almost afraid of her. An omega. He was afraid of an omega.

Anyone else would laugh at him, perhaps, but he felt the nervousness creeping in his bones. He wanted her to like him. He wanted her to think he was cool and want to know him better. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. She had unarmed his normal charm and made him feel like a nervous bundle of sweat and it was exhilarating.

“I’ll take a card, though.” She placed her hand out flat. “If you’ve got one. I’m gonna check out your website.”

Harry fished one out of his wallet, thankful he kept them on hand. It had his office number, and part of him wanted to offer his personal cell but he knew that would be a bit weird. Especially if she wanted to use his services. He almost hoped she didn’t- asking a client on a date wasn’t good for the image, was it? He wasn’t sure.

“If you’ve got any questions you can reach out on the email there, it’s a direct line to me- or uh, I come in every day so.” He shrugged. “Around this time. You’ve got very good coffee too. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good hazelnut. People put a lot of syrups and things… but your shop does it the best.”

“Thank you.” She seemed chuffed with his praise. “I taste test everything with the crew here. You’ll be in for a treat. If you’re coming in every morning, do you think you’d want to be a bit of a guinea pig for me?” She slid the box across the counter. “I’ve been experimenting like my lovely employee was saying. But I’d love a real customers opinion. Even if it’s bad. I want to know what the consumer likes.”

Harry was shocked. Y/N was kind of treating him like a friend, like she valued his exact opinion. He couldn’t deny he felt exceptionally special. Having not only the owner of the bakery but an omega he had some sort of crush on suddenly want to sample the new things she sells and get his opinion on it.

“Oh- uh. Alright. Of course! I can do that.” He grinned shyly, handing his card over for her to pay for the things she had put into the box. “I come in every morning during the week so… you can just let me know what’s new to taste.” There was a giddiness in his stomach. An excuse to talk to her every day. Or at least a few times a week. He’s never really reacted this way to an omega before, the scent craving, the shyness he suddenly felt, all of it was so new to him and he was unsure how to navigate it but he didn’t want to stop. He only wanted more.

“Perfect. What is your name, by the way?” The card was handed back to him and there was slight disappointment their fingers didn’t brush, but Harry took today was a victory.

“Harry. Harry Styles. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Y/N. I’m glad to meet you too. I hope to see more of you soon.”

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buckrecs · 7 months

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2023 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 4

masterlist | ✨- fav fics | status - updating

All Of Them are COMPLETED Series

1. Finding Home by @jobean12-blog

Bucky x Reader Animal Rescue AU

You meet Bucky while he’s out walking Alpine in the city. It’s love at first sight and to make it even better he just opened up an Animal Rescue, Shelter to Solider. But will his past stand in the way of him finally finding his home.

2. Welcome Home… Soldat? by @winterarmyy

Winter Soldier!Bucky x Reader

Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' everytime he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else.

3. Winter Makes Ice by @subwaysurf45

Bucky x Hydra Experiment!Reader

you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title.

4. ice ice baby by @endless-summer-soldier

College Hockey Player!Bucky x College Figure Skater!Reader

Bucky is a college hockey player, Y/N is a figure skater without a partner. What's happens when these two opposites start sharing the ice...

5. Right + Click + Save by @syntheticavenger

Bucky x Reader

Working from home has it’s perks, especially when it comes to helping a technologically unsavvy super soldier try to navigate a dating site.

6. Lonely Night by @marvelouslizzie

Roommate!Bucky x Reader

Your crush on your roommate gets out of hand. His smile ruins you in a way you never expected.

7. Like Breathing by @bucky-fricking-barnes

Bucky x Shifter!Reader

Bucky’s life in Cove is far from perfect, mostly because Cove’s residents want nothing more than to scare him away. Luckily for you, Bucky isn’t easily scared off.

8. Where Dreams Go To Die by @insomniumstella

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Steve’s silly joke happened to inspire the best, or possibly the worst, idea Wanda had ever come up with — send James Buchanan Barnes and y/n on an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii. the problem? they cannot stand to be around each other.

9. Make the Wave by @lostgirlmuseum

Bucky x Reader

You invite both your best friend and your boyfriend to a three-day weekend getaway at a beach resort. This trip was meant to be relaxing, but tensions and jealousies rise as both Miles and Bucky fight for your attention.

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier!bucky x reader #bucky barnes modern au #bucky barnes college au #athlete!bucky #bucky x hydra!reader #roommate!bucky #best friend!bucky

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cranberryjuice-posts · 1 month

Note

Okay so like hear me out.

Reader went on a quest years ago when her and Clarisse were still young and they went missing/were pronounced dead. But in reality they got stuck in the Lotus Casino so when Chiron sent some campers to retrieve campers that he already knew were stuck there they found the supposedly “dead” reader playing in the arcade.

Reader goes back to camp and finds Clarisse after all these years and returns like some weapon or smth that Clarisse gave them so they could defend themselves. (Reader obviously aged somehow so theres no weird age gap or smth)

- harness your hopes -

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Reader

An - i tried to find a way to write this without a plot hole since in the lotus hotel you don’t age key example nico di-Angelo so I hope this helps some 😭😭

“It’s Vegas”

“No it’s the best place in America. AND! And they have legal gambling” you laughed walking along side clarisse down the streets of Las Vegas.

Being placed on a mission together you both had an older saytr leading. Your main assignment was to locate a demigod that was near by and to help return them to camp safely.

Brushing your hands against clarisses you blushed some, it was just a dumb crush. You were 13 and so was she anything that could between you both was just pointless. Contrasting your thoughts however clarisse slowly reached over taking your hand.

The saytr guide gave you both a teasing face causing clarisse to pull her hand away embarrassed. As the guide chuckled turning back to lead the way you patted your cheeks trying to make the burning feeling go away.

After about an hour you all decided on getting lunch. While just waiting outside with clarisse she tapped your shoulder making you look at her.

“Here.. I saw your dagger got broken in our last fight so have mine” she tried hard to play it off but you could tell she was really just trying to show a form of love.

“Thanks” you happily smiled taking the blade back. Looking down at the blade you could see in the reflection clarisse looking Away embarrassed. Cute

It was weird.

One minute you were running away from a hippalectryon, next you were laying on the ground with a glowing wolf over you? Then you woke up in a casino like hotel.

The following week felt unreal, gambling every once in a while. Finding other demigods and running around with them, meeting some kids who said the Roman gods were real? Weird. Even becoming friends with this small kid named nico who un-ironically liked mythomagic just as much as you.

Being so caught up in the moment you hadn’t realized your body and mind growing. On Monday you were happy to eat a tub of ice cream all day while most people treated you like a kid, on Tuesday you were schooling some little kid on why he shouldn’t cheat in games and the older demigods you had seen before suddenly invited you to hangout with them.

Sitting in the lounging area you saw a familiar set of bright orange shirts paired with some of your friends you had just met. Quickly getting up you jogged over. “Hey! Wait up!” Finally standing before them your happy face turned to confusion. “Chris..?”

The Chris you suddenly Remembered had been 14 and recently shaved his head as he lost a bet now.. he looked older, way more muscular than before and for some reason he seemed more mature.

“Holy shit” he spoke shocked. Almost scared he reached out grabbing your shoulders. “What’s your name” he cautiously spoke.

“Yn Chris when did you get so old” you shoved his hands off of you. You had been gone a week not a lifetime.

“Are You dead?” He asked earning him an unamused look from you. Placing your hands on your hips you gave a heavy sigh. “No I’m not dead why are you asking”

“Because you’ve been dead for three years”

…

What..

—

The ride back to camp was weird. While Travis and Connor drove the truck back to camp you talked with Chris as he updated you and all the campers with you that in-fact everyone was trapped with the lotus eaters.

Though what confused him and everyone else was how you were able to age and mature like a normal person.

Pulling your dagger out from your side you studied it ashamed. So much time passed without you.. your siblings grew up, the camp evolved, it was like you didn’t even belong in this timeline. Shining the celestial bronze blade a sudden memory came back to you.

A girl named clarisse came back to you. A girl named clarisse who you loved, came back to you. With that all the flustered emotions of a young teenager followed suit as well.

Stepping inside to camp a familiar sense of comfort washed over you. Three years later and the damn place still hadn’t changed.

Though the walk though camp was awkward to say the least. All your friends were 16/17 now and there was so many new kids and dead ones that it was honestly a lot.

Eventually you found yourself sitting in the Aphrodite cabin with silena, leaning on her bed laughing like it was old times.

“You know what!” The daughter Aphrodite smiled leaning over the side. “There’s a certain lesbian here who misses you”

“Who” You chuckled slowly remembering everything. Silena looked at you with a knowing look. “Wait clarisse?! No no she doesn’t— we never liked each other like that” you laughed trying to play it off.

“Then I guess it won’t be weird for you to go meet up with her right now”

After a silent back and forth you caved in standing up. “Fine! I’ll go see her but we’re just friends” You warned leaving the cabin.

Jogging into the arena you had to take a moment to appreciate what you saw in-front of you. 5’10 and lean just swinging her spear around with a concentrated look plastered on her face. Even even she was taking her anger out clarisse was still beautiful.

She stuck her spear into the sand and started tying her curly hair back. Placing her hands on her hips she let out a heavy sigh just letting the energy fall away from her body.

Slowly walking towards her you cleared your throat nervous… justtt friends that’s what you were. “Hey..” you managed.

Instantly she looked over stunner and a little embarrassed. Clarisse didn’t move, didnt even speak. She opened her mouth for only a second before just closing it again not sure what to say.

Deciding to take the first step you gently patted your sides. Pulling the dagger from your side you held it out. “I figured I don’t need it anymore so I should return it-“

“Keep it” she quickly spoke. “Sorry.. I’m just, it’s been a long time” a tired breath left her lips causing you to blush slightly.

“Right..“ placing the blade away you looked back up deciding that maybe just standing in silence was the best think to do.

What felt like an eternity soon came to an end when clarisse decided to finally speak up. “Can we.. can we hangout tommorow” she slowly asked.

Nodding your head adamantly you smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

———

“Shut up it did not feel like a week” clarisse laughed walking around the forest with you. For majority if the day you both had just spent time together, almost like a date.

Now with the moon rising you both decided to finish the hangout off with a walk in the woods. “It did” you giggled. “I swear to the gods I was only there for a week”

She just rolled her eyes. “Must of been nice” she mumbled shaking her head. Confused you chuckled back. “What do you mean?”

“Well you didn’t have to spend three years thinking the first girl you ever actually fell in love with was dead and having to find some way to continue yourself that leaving her to bleed out after she protected you from dying wasn’t yourself and was the right thing to do”

You stopped walking and just looked up at clarisse. “You love me”

She looked back at you and just shrugged her shoulders. She was completely different from the dumb childhood crush you had. Slowly you grabbed clarisses arm and took her hand into yours. Looking down you smiled as she was wearing one of your favorite rings.

“I don’t remember a lot. I don’t know how I ended up in the hotel.. but what I do remember is that throughout my long week stay I always remembered a girl who could effortlessly make me laugh and always made my stomach do flips” a small laugh left your mouth. “Out of everything and everyone I always remembered being in love with you clarisse”

Shyly with her free hand she cupped the side of your face. Brining you close to her she muttered. “Can I Kiss you..”

Laughing some you nodded. “Yeah you can kiss me”

Placing her lips onto yours you couldn’t help b it smile happily. It made you feel warm how some way some how clarisse waited for you. Guess it was a good think to since you had no choice but to wait for her too.

Clarisse - FUCK ALL YOU MOTHER FUCKERS I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND SUCK IT

YN - babe 😭

—

#lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #clarisse larue #clarisse my beloved #percy jackson show #pjo fandom #clarisse x female reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you

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sapphire-writes · 6 months

Text

Money Shot

Part 4 of The Campaign

modern!Aemond x Reader

summary: Tensions rise between you and Aemond at the arrival of Floris Baratheon.

word count: 6.3k

rating: explicit/18+/MDNI

warnings: kissing, fingering, oral (f receiving), degradation, slight praise, semi-public, finger sucking, gagging, hair pulling, begging, infidelity, reader serving cunt (listen, our reader is not a girl's girl and you know what we're just rolling with it for this one rip), angst, alcohol consumption, smoking, language

note: oh hey there! it's my monthly series update whatcha know! how's everyone doing? surviving? thriving? slay! thanks for reading lovelies I hope you enjoy it!

dividers & headers by me (i know, we've come so far)

if you'd like to be notified when I post please follow and turn on notifications for @sapphire-writes-updates in lieu of a taglist!

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Floris Baratheon is annoyingly pretty.

Even more so now that she’s this close; seated across from you at brunch. Floris and her sisters went to school with you when you were younger; you’d been in the same grade as her older sister Maris. You were never close. When it became clear her family was supporting Aegon over Rhaenyra, you made it your mission to find out everything worth knowing about them.

Floris motherfucking Baratheon.

She bats her lashes at Aemond as he holds his brother’s attention in polite quiet conversation. Easily the prettiest of her sisters so it is wasn’t surprising that Aemond had chosen her as his prize. Though to be frank, you’d never thought of Aemond as shallow. He hardly dated at all.

Aegon had arrived late the previous night, setting off the alarms of Summerhall as he fell into the swimming pool. A fabulous start to the day.

Floris had arrived the evening after you and Aemond’s most recent rendezvous. She’d squealed like an excited teenager, throwing her arms around Aemond, her heels lifting off of the ground as she peppered light kisses across his face. Her presence had been a thorn in your side ever since.

A family outing had been Alicent’s idea. The restaurant was Rhaenyra’s choosing; an intimate little rooftop brunch spot. You’d all gotten there early to avoid the sweltering midday sun.

You glance over your shoulder at the table behind you where Rhaenyra is seated, flanked by Daemon and Joffrey. Alicent and her father sit across from them, both tight lipped. Daemon is lost in his menu, the corner of his mouth curling into a sneer as he murmurs something to Rhaenyra. The table appears quiet, with no polite conversation. Though Joffrey is seated beside his mother, it feels very much as though you’d been seated at the kid’s table.

“Weren’t you supposed to bring someone?” Helaena asks, glancing at Aegon out of the corner of her eye as she pours over the menu. “I thought you were seeing that Lannister girl.”

You turn away from the grown-ups' table, reaching for your wine. You declined the complimentary mimosas, as did Aegon. He swirls his glass of scotch in his hand, the ice cube clinking against the sides. Nothing like hard liquor at 11 am.

“She’s not coming,” Aegon answers.

“Not coming?”

Aegon merely shrugs, tapping his finger against the glass, “We had a fight.”

Helaena quirks a brow at that, pursing her lips as she sets her menu on the table.

“A fight?”

“Yes. A disagreement.”

“About what?”

Aegon groans, leaning back in his chair as a waitress walks by. His eyes rake over her figure so quickly you almost miss it. Aegon’s been perving for years and he’s mastered his technique. Your stomach sours and you roll your eyes. Jace reaches over to you, placing his hand on top of yours giving it a comforting squeeze.

“Loyalties. I kissed someone else and she wasn’t happy.” Aegon tells his sister. His playful frown suggests he’s unbothered by her reaction to his infidelity.

Of all the Targaryens, you think you hate Aegon the most.You glance at Aemond and find him already looking at you.

Well, maybe not the most.

“How dreadful. You’ll cause a scandal, I’m sure,” Helaena muses.

“No one’s paying much attention to me. Nothing to worry about,” Aegon says, plucking a piece of bread from the basket in front of him, “Everyone’s more concerned about Maegor With Tits.” He holds the bread against his chest for crude emphasis.

“Hush,” Helaena snaps, always the quickest of her siblings to defend her half-sister.

Helaena and Aegon quarrel like lovers. It’s unsettling.

Aemond is still watching you, even though you’ve looked away. You’re trying to control the small smirk that plays on your lips. You know why he’s staring.

It wasn’t as though you were trying to get him to look at you, but you had opted for a more revealing dress than you usually would for a family outing. Jace’s eyes had widened considerably as you’d smoothed the small scrap of silk into place that morning.

“You look incredible,” he’d said, hand on your hip, eyes following the fabric that stopped just below the curve of your ass, leaving no amount of leg to the imagination.

You glance at Aemond, meeting his hungry gaze. He’s awfully fun to play with. It’s been so boring the past few days ever since Floris’ arrival. She’d been stuck to Aemond’s side like a pretty little leech the entire time.

“So, Floris,” you say, placing your wine glass on the table, “We’ve been living in the same house for three days now and I feel like I don’t know anything about you. Tell me about yourself.” It’s a command more than a request.

Aemond keeps his eye focused on you, the heat of his glare burning into your face. Helaena raises a brow as Jace and Aegon begin talking to one another, oblivious. Helaena has always been the most observant. Floris smiles kindly, not sensing the tension that rolls off your shoulders. It’s the first time you’ve attempted to speak to her.

“Oh ... .well…,” she glances at Aemond though he says nothing, “What would you like to know?”

A smile dances across your lips. This should be fun.

“I can’t remember for the life of me where you studied. Which university did you graduate from again?” you ask, cocking your head to the side, “Was it Harvard or Yale? I always confuse the East Coast ivies.” You laugh breathlessly, shaking your head.

Floris’ eyelashes flutter; a nervous tell. She smiles with a sigh, clearly not used to the spotlight directed at her.

“Oh well I think you’re thinking of my sister Maris,” she answers, cheeks turning a rosy hue of pink. You knew that, obviously. If Aemond wanted intellectually stimulating conversation, he’d have chosen her as his arm candy. “But I’m planning on going back and getting my degree at some point. I’m really interested in botany—”

“Botany! Ha! That was my minor in university,” Helaena chimes in. Floris’ eyes light up, thankful Helaena has joined the conversation. “That’s rather—”

“Flowers?” you interrupt and Floris’ smile falters ever so slightly as her blue eyes return to you.

Unlucky for her, you’ve never been one to give up easily. You reach for your glass, holding it lazily between your fingers. Smiling tightly and tilting your head to the side, you continue your advances.

“Yeah,” Floris shakily answers, “I mean…I don’t know. I haven’t really made up my mi—”

“Have you read any good books recently?” you ask, taking a sip of wine. You watch Aemond begin to tap his fingers against the table out of the corner of your eye.

“Oh um, not really,” Floris answers, “I’m not much of a reader.”

You flick an eyebrow up at that, glancing at Aemond. His pale blue eye holds your gaze, nostrils flaring. Interesting. Aegon and Jace have paused their side conversation.

“Oh?”

The table is silent. It’s like watching a cat play with a mouse. Aemond’s knuckles blanche as he curls his fingers in toward his palm. A waitress walks by, absentmindedly refilling the sweating glasses of water that line the table. Aemond says nothing; he doesn’t jump to his girlfriend’s defense.

Doesn’t look away from you.

Floris wets her lips, smiling politely up at the waitress as she refills her cup. She pauses for a moment, nervously sipping her water. She’s about three mimosas in; you’re sure the alcohol is working in your favor. A layer of nervous sweat covers her brow.

“I mean, I haven’t really—”

“What about current events?” you continue to steamroll her, “Aemond loves staying up to date he must be driving you crazy with all that. Especially with what's been going on recently in the Riverlands.”

“Oh, well I’m not really sure—”

“Oh you aren’t?” you ask in mock confusion, over dramatically pouting, “Hmph. I assumed you’d be interested in his work. I mean as Aemond’s girlfriend and all—”

“Oh well, that’s actually a great segway,” Floris interrupts, her voice shriller than before, as if she’s trying to regain control of the conversation.

You take another sip from your glass, allowing her interruption. You’re enjoying her distressed state. A smile curves at the edge of your lips and you attempt to hide it behind your glass.

“We’ve just been having the loveliest time together, haven’t we?” Floris says, pressing her hand against Aemond’s shoulder.

He makes a soft noise of approval and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. You catch his gaze again, the conversation fading into white noise.

Does Floris know she’s been sleeping on the bed he ruined you on? Your cheeks grow hot. Just a few nights ago you’d been tied to the rails of their headboard. Guilt stabs you in the gut but you choose to ignore the uncomfortable feeling. Floris Baratheon means nothing to you. She’d do the same to you in a heartbeat. There’s no playing fair in these circles.

“—you see we decided to get engaged!”

You choke on your wine, sputtering, and coughing. Droplets of wine stain the white tablecloth like little pink raindrops. Jace rubs a comforting hand on your back.

“Are you alright?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“Sloppy girl you got there, Jacey,” Aegon snickers.

“I’m fine,” you manage in a hoarse voice, “Just went down the wrong way, that’s all.” You can feel droplets of wine running down your chin, onto your neck, and down between your breasts.

Aegon raises his eyebrows, an amused smile on his face as his eyes shamelessly follow the river flowing down your chest. You wipe your chin as you stand from your chair, the legs scraping harshly against the wooden floor.

“I’ll just go freshen up,” you tell everyone. Your throat tightens uncomfortably.

“D’you want me to come with you?” Jace asks, rising halfway from his chair, his brown eyes wide.

“No, I’m fine,” you insist, pressing your hand against his shoulder until he sits back down, “I’ll be right back.”

You don’t look at Aemond, nor anyone else as you hurry past Rhaenyra’s table and between other patrons towards the restroom. Hurrying down the hallway and slamming the door shut behind you, you take a deep breath gazing at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are wide and bloodshot from your coughing fit, and your chest is shiny and sticky from the wine.

“Seven fucking hells,” you grumble, grabbing one of the provided towels and wetting it in the sink. Cleaning yourself up, you try to stop your hands from shaking.

Engaged.

You shake your head, fixing your hair, trying to rid yourself of the thought.

He’s fucking engaged.

Sleeping with Aemond Targaryen when he has a “girlfriend” is one thing. But fiancee? The thought makes your stomach tighten. Well, it shouldn’t mean anything. You didn’t care then. You shouldn’t care now. You meet your eyes in the mirror, your stomach flipping unpleasantly. You shouldn’t care. Your lower lip trembles, nails digging into the soft flesh of your palms.

Seven hells.

“What are you doing?” you whisper.

What have you been doing? You have a boyfriend. He has a fiancee. You press your hand against your forehead, breathing deeply as your heart thrums against your ribs. A wife practically. Gods if this got out. You don’t even want to think about it. Rhaenyra’s campaign would be jeopardized. Everything you’ve worked for. You’ve been so incredibly reckless.

This has to end.

The door opens and you’re torn from your thoughts as Aemond enters the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Of course, he followed you. You glare at him through the mirror.

“Out.”

“Let me explain—”

“Get out Aemond,” you demand, drying your hands, not turning to face him.

“I meant what I said,” he continues, taking a step forward, “It’s an arrangement that’s all, a publicity stunt—”

“A publicity stunt? You’re getting married,” you hiss, throwing the towel against the counter, meeting his eyes through the mirror once more. It feels hauntingly familiar, looking at him like this; the last time he was buried to the hilt inside of you. “Get. Out.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” he insists.

You laugh bitterly, finally turning to face him. He’s standing inches away from you, so close you can smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It makes your head spin. Shit. Stay focused.

“Doesn’t change anything?” you repeat, “She’s going to be your wife.”

“Don’t be such a child,” he snaps, causing you to flinch, “You know how this works. People are paired off together all the time.” He takes a step forward and you back up, your ass nudging against the edge of the sink. “What did you think was going to happen, hm?” He steps even closer, his body completely caging you against the counter.

Aemond places his hands on either side of you. He’s not wrong. You know how this world works. Families align with each other all the time through relationships and marriages. It’s as if they’re frozen in time using betrothals for political gain.

Just look at Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon. Their marriage was anything but a loving one. Her children are proof of that, clearly fathered by someone else. You remembered watching them arrive when you were in grade school; exiting the black limousine and not realizing who they were. Their father was rumored to be the head of the Secret Service at the time, Harwin Strong, though this was never confirmed.

“It’s not like Jace is going to let you go,” he murmurs, hands inching closer to your waist, “Or have you not thought that far ahead?”

His hands come to rest on your hips and he chuckles softly at the sound this elicits from you.

“You’re in too deep,” he says, nose brushing against your cheek. His minty breath wafts over your face. One hand remains on your waist, the other trailing up the side of your ribs. Goosebumps bloom on your arms as he reaches your face.

“It’s for the election,” you whisper.

“The water’s over your head,” he murmurs, his hand caressing your cheek, “If you think it’ll end there, you’re not as smart as I thought you were. You’re drowning.”

You swallow, lips parting to give him another snide remark, but he doesn’t let you; the hand that cradles the side of your face pulls you forward and presses your lips to his. You push against his firm chest, disconnecting your lips with a wet pop. Your hand reaches toward your face, your fingertips pressing against your tingling lips.

“You’re getting married—”

“And you’re fucking jealous,” he snarls, bringing his face inches away from yours. You suck in a surprised breath, cheeks warming as his lips curl into that familiar smug smirk, “Worried Floris is getting what you’ve been missing?”

Humiliation makes your skin prickle; the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. Your fingers fall from your lips.

“Fuck you,” you hiss from between clenched teeth, “I don’t care.”

You try to push by him but his hands plant themselves on your middle, holding you firmly in front of him. His hands slide down your waist, cupping the globes of your ass. A disapproving whine leaves your lips as he squeezes the soft flesh harshly, lifting you onto the counter. Your fists beat against his chest and he grabs your wrists.

“You care,” he insists, pressing a kiss against the side of your neck as you twist an arm from his grip to shove him, “Otherwise you wouldn’t be behaving like a spoiled brat in front of everyone.” His lips press against your throat with every word he speaks.

One of his large hands moves up your back winding in your hair and tugging your head backwards. Your forearm presses against his shoulder attempting to push him away. Aemond hums appreciatively against your throat, pressing another soft kiss against it. Your breathing hitches as he continues to kiss your neck, warm desire pooling in your belly. You stop pushing, curling your hand into the fabric of his shirt instead, pulling him closer.

“It’s been three days,” he murmurs, continuing his exploration up your neck with his lips, nipping and sucking at the smooth skin, “Three days without this cock is driving you crazy, huh?”

“Aemond,” you try to snap at him but it’s dangerously close to a moan, “They’ll be waiting for us—” You’re silenced by his fingers thrusting through your parted lips, pressing down against your tongue.

“Shhh,” he hushes in a condescending tone, “I think that pretty mouth has said enough, don’t you agree?” You watch him with wide eyes as he presses further down your throat until the tips of his fingers reach the rough surface of the back of your tongue causing you to gag. He moves his fingers back.

“C’mon, you can do better than that,” he scolds, tapping your cheek with his other hand. His eyes narrow as he presses his fingers further down your throat once more. Your throat constricts and you claw at his bicep, fighting the urge to gag again. You hollow your cheeks, sucking his three fingers in your mouth. “There she is. That’s much better— there’s a good girl, that’s it.”

He removes his soaked fingers, a line of saliva still connected to your lips. Gasping for breath you feel him part your legs, his hand sneaking under your dress. You can feel his cool, wet fingers against your inner thighs.

“Aem—”

“What did I say?” His words are clipped and irritated. His fingers graze against your clothed center, pressing lightly against your soaked center. You can feel how much you want him. How right he was about the jealousy that burns in your belly. You’re sure he can feel it too.

A muffled whine leaves your lips as his fingers pull your panties to the side, parting your silky wet folds. You’re embarrassingly wet already. Aemond chuckles darkly, fingers dipping against your entrance and gathering some of your arousal before circling your clit.

“You’re begging to get fucked, you know that?” he asks, his voice husky and strained, “Walking around here looking like this.” The hand in your hair tightens and pinpricks of pleasure sting your scalp. “Needy. Little. Slut.” His fingers pinch your clit on the last word and you cry out.

Aemond slams his lips against yours to silence your cry and you hook a leg around his slim waist, heel digging into his lower back pulling him closer. He kisses you feverishly like he means to devour you. It’s sloppy and his teeth scrape against your lip but you don’t care. It’s been days without him speaking to you, let alone touching you. You’ve felt like you were going crazy.

Not that you were about to admit that to him.

Your breathing is turning to pants as he continues to kiss you, fingers circling your bud with determined precision. Your eyebrows scrunch together as the current of pleasure in your abdomen winds tighter, and your toes begin to curl. You whine against his mouth and he shushes you once more.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls through an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

You accept it greedily and your limbs turn to jelly when he licks at the roof of your mouth. One hand clings to his bicep, nails digging into the hardened muscle while the other winds around his neck and tangles in his hair. His hand dips lower, two fingers stretching inside of your warm waiting pussy.

“That’s it,” he murmurs as you shudder at the stretch, “Fucking c’mon then—” his fingers crook upwards pressing against the spongy section of your walls that has your back arching, and black spots dancing across your vision.

“Gods—” you whine, clenching around his digits as his thumb presses against your clit. His fingers are longer and thicker than your own; you’d indulged yourself several times the past few days but masturbation was nothing compared to the pleasure Aemond is able to give you.

“This is all you needed, huh?” he asks, steadily beginning to finger you, focusing all his attention on caressing your sweet spot. “Oh yeah. You’re so much happier with my fingers buried inside this tight little cunt, huh?” Your face flushes as he speaks to you. Every stroke of his fingers sends waves of pleasure washing over you. Your jaw slacks, eyes squeezing shut. Every nerve ending in your body is singing as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

“You want my mouth on this sweet little pussy?” he asks gruffly, his face pressed against yours, “Tell me how badly you want it. C’mon. Tell me.” The squelching sound of his fingers is borderline pornographic in the small space.

“Yes!” you wail.

“Beg me,” his voice is rough, the commanding tone causing your walls to spasm around his lengthy digits.

“Please,” you whine, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. He knows your body so well. Too damn well. Every curl of his fingers incessantly bullies against your sweet spot. You can feel your walls pulsating around his fingers, squeezing him tighter and tighter and tighter.

“Please what, baby?”

Your teeth are clenched together, and a whimper gets caught in your throat. Your eyes roll back in your skull as he slows his pace stroking just right. Your head tilts back gently tapping against the mirror, mouth hanging open in bliss as you try to find the words.

“Please—please I need your mouth—”

“Yeah?” he says, an amused, open-mouthed grin slashed across his face, “Where?”

Seven hells he’s relentless. You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, your heel presses against his buttock, your back arching off the counter desperately grinding against his hand for more friction. Gods you’re practically fucking yourself on his hand your hips rutting against his palm.

“Please! Please on my pus—” Your sentence dies as Aemond kneels in front of you. “Aemond—oh god,” you moan as he presses his face against you, one hand holding your panties to the side, as his tongue slides over your aching clit.

“Since you begged,” he murmurs, suckling your clit between his lips and sucking; tongue lavishing the sensitive button with even strokes.

His tongue is deliciously warm and firm, tracing little circles around your clit and making your mind go blank, the last few moments forgotten. His fingers stroke the rough patch at the front of your sensitive walls and he presses against it with brutal determination.

Your thighs shake around his head, fingers tangling in his hair as the pressure in your belly builds, winding tighter and tighter until at last white-hot pleasure bursts through you; your muscles go taut and you cry out, slamming the back of your hand against your mouth to stifle the noise as you release barrels through you.

He fucks you through it, a low rumble of appreciation bursting through his chest as the wet, sucking sound of his fingers grows louder with your release. The pleasure is almost too much; it ignites you completely.

A rush of air enters the small space and your head snaps up. Aemond is quick to stand, mouth falling away from you and your release fizzles out.

Daemon leans against the doorframe, a knowing smirk on his face as he purses his lips. His eyes follow the length of Aemond’s arm down to where it disappears still beneath your dress. Aemond’s fingers slip out of your pussy, the soaked digits dragging a wet path down against your inner thighs leaving you despairingly empty.

“Carry on,” Daemon murmurs, letting the door close behind him as he exits.

Blood rushes in your ears and the room begins to spin. It’s like Daemon took all the air in the room with him. Black spots appear in your vision.

“Fuck,” you’re nearly panting, “Oh gods—” Your mind is beginning to spiral, the high of pleasure leaving your limbs. “Shit,” you breathe, fixing your panties, hopping off of the counter, “—fuck.”

Aemond reaches for the sink, and he turns it on calmly, beginning to wash his hands.

“Relax.”

“Relax?”

He shuts off the faucet, drying his hands as he faces you.

“He’s not going to say—”

“Aemond,” you stop him, holding your hand up, “Just don’t.”

Fixing yourself quickly, Aemond stands in stony silence as you open the door and flee the bathroom. You return to the table, not looking at anyone. Sitting beside Jace you reach for your wine, downing the rest of it, trying to ignore the ache between your legs.

Aemond rejoins a moment later, reclaiming his seat next to Floris. She holds out the menu, pointing at something trying to show him. It takes him a moment to get back into character. You watch him blink before slinging an arm over the back of her chair and leaning into her, seemingly very interested in what she’s showing him.

You place your glass on the table, your leg bouncing uncontrollably. Helaena watches you, lilac eyes narrowed. Turning away from her scrutinizing gaze you subtly glance at Rhaenyra’s table.

Daemon meets your eyes, raising his glass to salute you.

Fuck.

You forgo dinner later that day, claiming the sun has gone to your head. Hiding beneath the silk sheets of you and Jace’s bed seems like a much better way to spend the evening. You try to busy yourself on your phone but your thoughts keep going back to Daemon. The smirk he wore, the look in his eyes.

Caught you.

Your stomach turns and suddenly the blue light is making you feel nauseous and you throw your phone across the room. The sun bleeds orange tendrils of light across the floor as it lowers over the horizon, the hours ticking by as you lay in silence.

The door creaks open when the room is shrouded in darkness. The mattress dips as Jace sits, placing a comforting hand on your back.

“Hey,” he says softly, rubbing slow circles over the covers, “How’re you feeling?”

“Miserable,” you answer truthfully.

“I’m sorry baby,” he murmurs, “Do you want me to stay?”

“No,” you tell him, “I’m sure there’s something planned, you should join them.”

“It’s just a movie,” he tells you, “Joffrey picked it. Some crazy action film.”

“Charming,” you grumble as he places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Can I bring you something later?” he asks, and you don’t answer, “Get some rest.”

He gently closes the door as he leaves and the nausea comes back. You don’t deserve him. Jace knows, you’re sure of it. He knows there’s someone else. He’s just too nice to say anything.

Whether he knows it’s Aemond you’ve been sleeping with is a different story.

It should make you feel worse than it does.

You sit up, throwing off the covers suddenly very hot. You can’t sit in this room anymore, can’t lie down and sulk. It’s driving you up a wall, making you want to crawl out of your skin. You need fresh air. Rising from the bed, you throw on a pair of shorts and a simple t-shirt along with some flip-flops.

The hallway is quiet when you enter; everyone must still be in the theater room or have gone to bed. You quickly pad down the stairs, the sound of your flip-flops echoing through the grand entryway as they slap against the marble staircase. Heading through the spacious kitchen you open the sliding glass doors and head out the back towards the pool.

You see him as soon as you step onto the patio. He’s standing at the far end of the pool, a lit cigarette dangling from his perfect mouth. He glances at you, the cherry red tip pointed in your direction. He’s taken his hair down, the silver waves ripple over his shoulders.

The pool is filled with lights dancing on the blue surface; little lotus flowers holding candles. A basket of beach towels sits next to the door and you grab one. Aemond watches your movements as you walk along the side of the pool coming closer to him.

“What are you doing?” you ask, watching him crush the cigarette under his shoe.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

“Only during times of stress.”

You nod, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth. You don’t ask him to follow you, but he does all the same as you continue to walk the edge of the pool until you reach the beginning of the yard. You walk on the grass until you reach the dimly lit cobblestone path you’d seen during the tour of Summerhall house Alicent had given the day you’d arrived. Fairy lights have been strung along the railing that leads down to a small private beach giving the path a feeling of perpetual summer. Aemond’s footsteps echo behind you sounding heavier than your own.

As you arrive at the end of the steps you remove your shoes. Your feet sink into the sand, cooler now with the blazing summer sun not hanging overhead.

“You shouldn’t swim at night,” Aemond comments.

“I’m not going to swim,” you tell him, placing your shoes on the last step, “Are you coming?”

Aemond hums, hesitating for a moment as he holds your gaze. He truly looks ethereal with the moonlight casting shadows along the angles of his face. That chiseled jaw, those striking cheekbones. His prominent long nose. He could have gone into modeling if not politics, that you’re sure of.

You walk side by side further down the beach before you spread the towel and sit on top of it. You pat the spot beside you and he accepts the silent invitation to sit. For a moment neither of you speak, staring out at the waves that gently lap against the shore. The lights of the city are visible from here, just shiny little stars sparkling against the horizon.

You can feel his gaze shift as he looks at you. What was it he said to you a few days ago?

You can’t fool me.

“I can speak to Daemon,” Aemond says softly, “Make sure he doesn’t…”

“Don’t bother,” you cut him off, “You and I are a ticking time bomb. It could have been anyone walking in on us.”

At least it was Daemon. If he releases it, he’ll spin it to make Aemond look like the sleaze; cheating on poor, doe-eyed Floris Baratheon. You don’t even want to think about the possibility of Otto or Alicent walking in on you.

It’s always easier to scandalize women.

If Daemon spoke to Rhaenyra, she’d make him leave your name out of it. Nameless, faceless. Just some girl. Curiosity gnaws at you.

“Why wouldn’t you say something?” you ask him suddenly, “You could get on top of this before Daemon goes to the press. He’ll ruin you with this.”

“I’m not worried,” Aemond responds coolly, “I’m not scared of a little scandal.”

You think back to the stories you’d heard about him. The dutiful son with his sprinkle of bad decisions. Aemond cleans up his messes, unlike his elder.

“I suppose your family is very protective of your reputation,” you agree, tucking your knees against your chest.

“You don’t have that sort of protection,” he says softly.

It’s true. The Targaryen and Hightower names are like royalty compared to everyone else. Sucking your lower lip between your teeth, you slowly shake your head.

“No,” you agree, “I don’t.”

“I’m not going to say anything,” he clarifies, “I expect Aegon to win this campaign without the additional nonsense.”

You snort out a laugh. Even now he can’t help but try and push your buttons. It’s inevitable, the two of you. Always trying to one-up one another.

“Yeah okay. Well, we’ll see about that. Besides, Rhaenyra’s numbers have increased steadily since the debate,” you tell him, bumping your shoulder against his. The small contact leaves a burning feeling where your skin meets his.

“Don’t count your eggs before they hatch,” he softly teases.

“I know my chickens.”

Aemond frowns, giving you a quizzical look. “That’s not a saying.”

“Says who?” you ask, arching a brow at him.

This is easy, this is good. Just banter. Just Aemond versus you. It’s much more simple when you’re on opposite sides of the playing field.

“Surely someone,” he says leaning back against his hands.

The waves crash loudly against the rocks and seafoam sizzles against the sand. The moonlight reflects off of the top of the surf sending a silver trail down the middle of the water, splitting it neatly in two.

“Why?” you softly ask, tapping your fingers against your calves.

“Why what?” Aemond asks.

“Why aren’t you going to say anything?”

Aemond stares at you, his gaze burning into the side of your face until you can’t stand it. Turning your head, you meet his heated gaze.

“You know why.”

Your head tilts to the side, eyes not leaving his. “That’s a problem.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Aemond insists, “If we’re careful.” Aemond wets his lips, “What do you want?”

Your heart is beating so fast against your ribs it's almost painful. You place your palms against the towel, pushing against it trying to ground yourself.

“This…” you struggle to find the words, opting for another shake of your head, “This will never work. You and I; we hate each other.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees, his hand moving on top of yours.

“And you’re engaged,” you continue as his fingers lace through yours. Oh gods. There it is. That ache deep inside of you; a bottomless pit of want that threatens to swallow you whole.

“I’m engaged,” he agrees, reaching over to stroke your cheek, “And you’re with Jace.”

His thumb strokes your cheekbone, hand cradling your jaw. The action is affectionate and caring. It’s so tender, so endearing you almost burst into tears.

“I’m with Jace,” it’s barely a whisper, “I’m with—” You don’t get a chance to finish. His mouth is on yours before Jace’s name leaves your lips. There’s only Aemond.

You fall into the familiar rhythm quickly as he climbs on top of you, kissing you all the while. The sounds of the waves are deafening, matching the beating of your heart, of blood rushing in your ears. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. You want to lose yourself in the sound, in the feeling of him on top of you, pressing against you. He’s everything. He’s all-consuming.

It’s too late for anything else.

You’ve already been devoured.

The heat of the morning sun wakes you, a light sheen of sweat covering you. The side of your face itches and you bring a hand to it, brushing away some sand. Sand sticks to your legs and arms. Aemond lays beside you on his back, an arm thrown over his eye to block the sun.

“We fell asleep,” you tell him, squinting at the rising sunlight.

Whirl. Click!

A noise startles you. Must be the birds. Pushing yourself into a seated position, you brush some sand from your arm. Aemond turns onto his side, throwing an arm lazily over your outstretched legs. His hand curls against the meat of your thigh causing you to chuckle.

“Someone’s needy,” you tease, combing some hair from his face.

He growls his eye remaining shut, but the corner of his mouth quirks in a smile.

Whirl. Click! Whirl.

Craning your neck, you raise your arms above your head, yawning as you stretch. A sliver of flesh is exposed as you do so, and Aemond reaches his hand to grasp your waist, tugging you closer. You definitely shouldn’t have fallen asleep. Jace is probably worried sick. You pat your shorts. Shit. You’d left your phone as well.

“They’ll be looking for us,” you tell him, attempting to escape his grasp.

“Let them look,” he says, voice rough with sleep, as he pulls you close, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips.

Click!

You turn. There’s that noise again. As your ears adjust, you’re less sure that it’s simply the sounds of the birds rustling in their nests. The waves crash against the rocks, and you look over the dunes as the sea breeze rustles through them.

There it is.

A photographer, laying on his belly in the dunes, camera held at the ready. Whirl. Click! Your heart drops into your stomach. You’re going to be sick, for real this time.

You should have known.

Pushing away from Aemond, you pull your shirt down, dusting off the remaining sand.

“You’re a real fucking asshole,” you hiss, pulling the towel out from under him.

Aemond frowns at the sudden change, watching as you shake the towel out before chucking it in his direction. He catches it, leaning back slightly, surprised at the force of your throw.

“What?” Aemond says, face a mask of confusion.

“Shame I wasn’t in some skimpy suit, bet the press would have a field day putting those photos side by side with you and Floris,” you tell him scoffing, “I should’ve fucking known better.”

He calls your name. You don’t turn back, shielding your face as you hear the click of the camera once more attempting to save whatever dignity you have left. You can hear Aemond struggle to sand as you move toward the stairs, slipping on your shoes. His hand wraps around your forearm as you begin to climb them, halting your steps.

“This was not me,” he insists, “Look, Storm’s End yes, I did that but I had nothing to do with this—”

“I am such a fucking idiot,” you snap, ignoring him.

“I swear it-” You tug your arm away from his grasp, his expression crestfallen.

“I don’t even know why I’m surprised,” you tell him, laughing bitterly, “Like I didn’t know who I was dealing with.”

Aemond’s lips part, but he says nothing. You open your mouth to speak again.

Click! Whirl. Click!

“Fucking hells,” you mumble, turning away and running up the steps back towards the main house.

Tears stream down your face, hot and wet as you continue to climb. They’ve already got their money shot. You won’t give them one of you crying as well.

458 notes · View notes

little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year

Text

TANGERINE MASTERLIST.

<- back to navi

last updated: may 01, 2024

KEY:

☾ -> fluff/ comfort

★ -> smut

✧ -> angst

blank -> miscellaneous

type “tangerine” “tangerine x reader” or “tangerine headcanon” in my search to find asks that ive responded to — lots of random thoughts & hc’s to check out

*in the process of rewriting the fics in this top section*

hotel room - changing plans midway through a mission in Tokyo- you, tangerine and lemon decide to stay in a hotel instead of taking the bullet train ★

home is where the heart is - you and tangerine have a free day, deciding that you want to spend the cold day at home doing cozy domestic activities ☾

“you’re more like me than you think” - tangerine hasn’t been completely honest with you and you find out something you were supposed to. already feeling frustrated with your relationship, you don’t take the news lightly ★✧

imagines/ headcanons ☾

date night - tangerine has been away on a mission for the last week and is back in time for date night. missing each other like crazy, you decide to have a not-so-quiet night at home ★

when the trains a-rocking don’t come a-knocking - taking a job in japan collecting a briefcase from a train sounds easy, right? but not when you meet a pair of brother assassins from your past ★

one year later - one year ago today, you and tangerine celebrated the birth of your daughter, mandarin - mandy for short. this special day also marks the anniversary of when you unintentionally saved his life - calling him home from his mission in tokyo ☾

brainrot ★

thought ☾

REQUESTS:

ARCHIVED POSTS FROM JAN ‘23 -APR ‘23

taste ★

period comfort ☾

wait til later -> ★/suggestive

can’t be quiet ★

paper break ★

leave ✧

birthday ☾

the three musketeers ☾

uncle lemon’s brother ☾

withhold ☾/✧?

easy like sunday morning ★

assassin in training ✧?

intruders ✧

reassurance ☾

distance ✧?

one writer, one reader ☾

expecting ☾

reverse comfort ☾

shared sickness ☾

homemade ☾

subtle envy ✧?

love to hate (1 year bullet train anniversary)

consummate the marriage ★

melatonin ☾

assassin reader hc’s

forgive and forget ★

quip ☾

baby driver

sneaky findings

pregnancy hc’s ☾

safe and quiet ☾

the first time ★

three idiots in the kitchen ☾

ace hc’s ☾

short gf spooning tan hc’s ☾

how he would be/ act with a crush ☾

wouldn’t do that ☾

text conversations ☾

thots of him eating you out ★

take a break ☾

stay ☾

cinema date ★

make time ★

sfw alphabet ☾

vulnerability ☾

meet in the middle ★

helping hand ★

meet again

barside meet

village date ☾

gifts ☾

money where his mouth is ★

missed calls ✧

healer ✧

in vein ☾

baby fever ☾

up his game

day at home ☾

two am wake-up call

back up ☾

country lanes ☾

both hands full ★

rose-tinted view ☾

ice ☾

take a break ☾

bows and braids ☾

outta your mind ★

new addition ☾

two in a bed ☾ coming soon

handle with love ★ coming soon

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine masterlist #masterlist

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oathkeeperoxas · 4 months

Note

Hello, my friend! 44 or 71 for Icemav, if you're still warming up? <3<3<3

ELWEN yesssss going wild for this one. Forehead press my number 1, you will always be famous to me

71. lingering forehead against forehead, consumed by each other and barely having enough strength to breathe

The call comes at 6:43pm.

Ice lets it ring for three trills, still in that limbo of not knowing. Dead, or not dead? And the less important question of if the mission was a success or not. These two things are not related to each other. A successful mission could still mean a dead pilot. If that's the case, then he's already living in a world without Maverick Mitchell. If that's the case, then he has five more seconds of not knowing about it, before the knowledge sinks its teeth into him, inescapable.

He picks the phone up. He's has a lifetime of doing the hard work, making the terrible choices that no one else wants to make. He can't avoid this forever, and he wouldn't want to, so he puts the phone to his ear and listens, and when he puts it down he has to lean his elbows onto his desk, face in his hands. Gut swooping like he's just pulled an emergency barrel roll and hadn't had the chance to prepare for it. Sick, like he's grown so used to over his treatment, sick, like he's really going to throw up. But he's had a lot of practice with this too, so he swallows it all down neatly enough. There's still work to do, maybe more work, now that they'll have to switch to soothing Russia's ruffled feathers at having their sovereignty impinged upon. Mav and Bradley won't be back in the country for another day at least. He has plenty to do to fill the time until then.

The seconds tick past, and the minutes dribble through his fingers, and the hour hand on his watch inevitably ticks forward. He gets into a shouting match with the SECDEF and is called into conference with the JCS and watches as updates on the pilots who flew the mission trickle into his inbox. Mav's medical report is last, which means he only nibbles on dinner, a bad habit that Mav would scold him for. Ice would take it, would take any words from him, as long as he he here to speak them.

He works through the night and gets to sleep somewhere about quarter to five, and is back at his computer before ten. Mav's report has come in, and while it doesn't look great, it's not all bad news. He's walking under his own power, and while injured, apparently isn't in too much pain. Ice holds his own reservations about that. Mav's never enjoyed telling an authority figure everything. Ice will get the truth out of him when they see each other next.

All the pilots are in flight back to North Island, which means they're out of contact even if Ice wanted to reach out, which he doesn't. This isn't the first time that Mav has been on a mission and Ice has been able to do nothing but wait for him to come home. He prefers to wait to see Mav in person before they talk to each other. It's better that way.

He fends off orders to fly to Washington, at least delaying until tomorrow or the day after, and makes up for it by sitting on conferences all afternoon while typing away furiously at the dozens of emails that have landed in his inbox. Everything is a flurry of activity, everything needs his attention now, and yet he puts everything aside when he sees that the transport has landed at North Island, and that all the pilots have been taken for debriefing, except for the two who spent time on the ground, who have been shuttled to the base hospital. Ice packs up his laptop and notifies his driver, and is on the road immediately.

He's not in uniform, so manages to fly mostly under the radar until he hits the two Marines standing guard outside Mav's hospital room, who only give way when they recognise him. Ice bids them to wait outside, and closes the door behind him when he enters. There's a curtain that's hiding most of Mav from his sight; the only part of him that Ice can see are his feet, which are bare. His toes are poking out from the side of the blanket that Mav has thrown over him, and Ice is hit with a wave of emotion that's as irrational as it is powerful -- Mav's feet are uninjured. His toes are okay. He can see that. It makes it hard to breathe, and he steadies himself before stepping forward, not wanting to cough and worry his partner. This is not a moment for Mav to be worried about Ice.

"Did you bring me some real clothes?" Mav grumbles. "I'm not wearing this. This is an attack on decency. I'm fine. I don't need to be here. Who do I have to speak to, to go home?"

Ice closes his eyes and musters himself after that volley. Then he moves forward under full sail, to stand at the end of Mav's bed and lay a hand on his ankle.

"I didn't bring you any clothes," Ice rumbles, voice hoarse from all the speaking he's been putting it through today. "And you can come home when the doctors say you can leave."

"Ice," Mav says, eyes wide, and Ice can't stay away from him anymore. Mav is already struggling to sit up, and Ice sits on the bed and ropes his arms around him, lashing them together. Mav makes a low sound, torn somewhere from deep in his chest, and presses their heads against each other. Ice tilts them so their foreheads are together, noses and mouths close, breathing the same air. "Ice," Mav repeats, desperate, and Ice wants to squeeze him and never let him go for scaring Ice so badly, for coming to him in the first place and asking to do this, for daring to get shot down and for making Ice receive the news that he's dead, only to be told that he'd pulled off the impossible--

Ice presses a palm to Mav's neck to feel his pulse, and they're both gasping against each other, clinging like they're at sea and the other is their lifeboat. Like lovers to be parted on the morrow. Like they'll never get another day quite like this one.

"You scared the shit out of me," Ice manages, and Mav barks a laugh through his tears.

"You're telling me," Mav manages, cupping a hand on Ice's cheek and wiping away the wetness under his eyes. "I was pretty scared myself."

"The kid?" Ice asks.

"He's better than me. Young bones, and all that."

Ice can hardly breathe. He pulls away to clear his throat, and then comes back to lay his head on Mav's shoulder and press his face into Mav's throat. Mav's hand rests on the back of his neck. There's still so much to do. Ice can feel the weight of his emails piling up in his inbox. But he can put off making the hard decisions for an hour. He can let himself be human for an hour. Mav's arms have the power to protect him. He hasn't lost that privilege. He hasn't lost Mav.

"If you think I'm letting you do anything like that ever again--"

Mav laughs. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I used that one favour up. Won't happen again. We're even now -- how about we don't do that to each other again, yeah?"

It's good he's sitting down. The dizzying relief would have forced him to anyway. He lays a kiss over Mav's pulse.

"I don't think cancer and flying into a deathtrap are particularly equivalent," Ice grits out. "But I'm willing to overlook that if you are."

Mav cradles him gently, laying kisses against his crown. "Sounds like a plan to me."

Ice sighs and sits up. "Are you okay?" he asks. "I know you've been lying to try and get out of here faster."

Mav sniffs, pretending to be offended. "They're not falling for it," he says plaintively.

"Good. Start telling them how you really feel. I'm not going anywhere, anytime soon."

"Yeah?" Mav asks, looking up at him.

"Yeah," Ice says softly. "Gotta keep an eye on my troublemakers."

Mav's eyes crinkle into his familiar smile, and Ice is home, home, home.

A hundred different kisses prompt list

#cyclone is keeping everyone inside today so writing time #icemav #iceman #maverick #top gun #tg #mine #my writing #forehead to forehead really be my number 1 weakness and yes i blame robin hobb for it

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roseeeya · 9 months

Text

daddy’s kid

warnings :: none

genre :: parent-child fluff

synopsis :: the hashiras meet giyuu's adopted 8 y/o kid who is very much a daddy's kid

pairings :: giyuu tomioka x child reader

prologue

giyuu tomioka is a very quiet man. he rarely says anything and prefers only to speak when absolutely necessary. being the water pillar, no matter how undeserving he feels of it, is his position.

one faithful night, he was given a mission. he did as told and followes his kasugai crow to the location wherein he was to slay the demon. he finds that he was too late and that the entire village was in ruins. in a quick response to the situation, he slays the demon and looks around to see the damage done.

checking every house, he finds everyone slaughtered. everyone but you. he tries to assess your condition. looking around, he sees three bodies. a male, a woman and a girl.

he comes to you and crouches. “uhm. who are they to you, kid?” he asks, an awkward aura filling the room. to you, it seemed he didn't know what to do with a child. you weren't surprised. your parents didn't either.

“m-my parents..the other girl is my older sister...” you mutter. he comes in a little closer, making you flinch. “it’s okay. i- uh- i won’t hurt you.” his voice sounded so calm. like the tranquil lakes of your home. or the serenity of the sky at night.

still shocked at the situation, he ponders what to do with you. with what you witnessed, and at your age too, you may just end up like him. labeled as insane. that was something that won’t go away easily. he didn’t want you to go through it. “what’s your name?” he asks you.

“i’m [name]…who are you, sir?”

“I’m giyuu tomioka. would you like to come with me, [name]?”

your eyes widen at his question. was he being serious? he wanted to take you in? in the spur of the moment, you nod. though you felt as if you wouldn’t regret the decision.

months later, you had grown accustomed to giyuu tomioka. his presence in your life has drastically changed you. granted, the trauma of what you saw was still there, but you were happy with him. you called him dad, and he didn’t get angry with it. you could hug him and he wouldn’t push you away.

you sat out in the gardens of his estate, watching the sky, as a familiar bird swoops in and drops a letter onto the man beside you. “what’s that, dad?” you ask.

opening the letter, you peer over to your side to get a glimpse (one which he gladly gave you privilege to do). it seems to have been a while since he received a letter, so naturally he was curious. he reads the contents and his eyebrows rise. it seems that master ubuyashiki has discovered of your presence and existence in his life and has invited him to bring you to his estate to meet his colleagues. he was of course, conflicted if he should expose you to their…antics. would you grow to hate him like they did him?

on the day you were set to meet the rest of the hashiras, you walk into the ubuyashiki estate gardens with your father. you hid in his haori, slightly nervous because you hadn’t had contact with much people other than the people in the tomioka estate, and of course, tomioka himself.

peeking out of his haori, he softly urges you to say hello to the people in front of you.

“h-hello. i’m [name] tomioka. it’s- it’s nice to meet you..”

gyomei himejima

my mans wouldn’t see obv

but he would be able to hear what’s going on and put the dots together himself

either that or whoever’s beside him will update him with what’s happening

when you approach him he melts

like if he was ice cream, he’d be an entire puddle of it

because omg

a child walked up to him and that’s just so cute HAJSHAJS

“it’s very nice to meet you, [name]. i'm gyomei himejima.”

would 100% give u piggybacks

and you love it bc upsies or u don’t if you hate heights and say sorry about it

that or it wouldn’t happen bc he would’ve asked before carrying

“you have a very cute child, tomioka. bless your souls.”

pretty much a 10/10 with him

because who wouldn’t love gyomei?

uzui tengen

would drop

guy would have his jaw on the ground

because the quiet, reserved and boring one of them that’s his words not mine has a child?!??!?

yes. yes he does.

would probably be a little awkward with you

like not shy awkward

it’s the kind where he wouldn’t know what to do with you

it’s as if you’re an object he needs to figure out bc let’s be fr his expertise is women not children

he does care for your safety bc well- you’re a person

well he does admire the deed giyuu did

“that’s a very flamboyant deed, tomioka! and your child is er- flamboyant as well!”

yk that meme where a man carries their child by the ankle upside down?

yea, that’s the vibe between you and him

he doesn’t know what to do, help the poor man

like actually get him some much needed help

rengoku kyojuro

he has a little brother

ofc the man is great with kids

he sees you come right out of tomioka’s haori and he was quite shocked

of all the hashiras he never expected giyuu with a child

though he finds it admirable and adorable

sweet bby

would definitely eat with you

and try out different foods with you

you love him because he’s fun

also because he isn’t mean to giyuu

unlike other people that we will get on with later

he’s probably gonna be a good babysitter

sometimes he’s a little loud but it doesn’t bother you that much

tries to be quiet around you if you’re sensitive to sound

100/10 great man

giyuu likes him so you were more open to being with him rather than obanai.

mitsuri kanroji

squeel

this woman will squeel

no shame in it because

well, there’s an adorable child. who happens to be giyuu tomioka’s child.

put the words adorable and child in one sentence and she will go berserk

would be good with you as well!

you’re slightly shy because of her revealing clothes

bc giyuu taught you to look away in situations like that (we love a respectful king)

so you just learned not to look

and now you’re shy

mainly about the fact that her clothes show her ‘forbidden things’ as you called it

she would definitely try out food with you with rengoku

omg you’d admire her hair a lot because you’ve never seen anything like it

she loves how you haven’t been tainted by the beauty standards

big sister energy and we love that

and ofc giyumitsu friendship?? so she’s like the cool aunt or sister or whatever

muichiro tokito

is pretty neutral with you at first.

and this is after he regains his memories

but then you approach him with a smile on your face

and he’s reminded if himself years ago

so innocent and carefree

which ends up with him having a somewhat soft spot for you

you see him as an older brother because giyuu practically treats the guy as his kid

was still aloof so he let you play with his katana once during a hashira meeting

was scolded by giyuu and shinobu afterwards

it never happened again.

you like his company because he’s quiet but still manages to be amiable with you

you think that his aloof personality kinda reminds you of giyuu

and it’s comforting

god he might attempt to carry you

keywords: might and attempt

he might if he wasn’t tired and if he actually wasn’t tired, he would attempt to atleast twice

until he gives up

just cuties being cuties

iguro obanai

see, i sometimes despise this man but love him at the same time

but i really think he’d berate you your dad

the man lives off of messing with your father

what on earth makes you think he wouldn’t give you the exact same treatment?

if anything, the only reason he’ll end up being nice to you is because of mitsuri

she likes you and he likes her so conclusion:

he has to try to like you.

that, and also partially because mitsuri got frantic when you cried because of his snake.

we all love kabarumaru but there’s never enough works where he just scares the living daylights off of the reader

in the end, he would probably refrain from saying bad things about you

you, not your dad. he still despises your dad.

can you see it? how much i loathe his actions towards giyuu? <3

you don’t like him either, don’t worry. he just-

he’s mean to your dad and you’re such a daddy’s girl so why wouldn’t you?

at this point i’m projecting so i’ll stop this here-

sanemi shinazugawa

omg he doesn’t like you at first

keyword: at first.

he obviously doesn’t like how you are in any relation to giyuu

but then you trip in front of him and you cry

and somehow, he helps you.

he doesn’t know why

he just did

so now you follow him around when you visit because

he helped you

and so with that, he learned to adapt to your presence

less mean to giyuu because he saw how you absolutely despise obanai

like he just doesn’t wanna upset you???

he will project onto you

by project, i mean he will at one point see you as one of his dead siblings

please get the man some help

please

omg would let you draw on his scars

because you think they’re pretty

oh and you were wary of him at first

bc you thought he was as mean as obanai

jokes on u, he just really misunderstands giyuu’s words lmao

shinobu kocho

normal smiling kind of impression

is soft with you

like less offhanded remarks when you are nearby

would treat your wound when you fell in front of sanemi

is probably awkward when you cry

because she can handle wounds but crying children?

not exactly her forte

that was kanae’e thing, not hers.

no matter how much she tried to imitate kanae

crying children is not her thing

you absolutely adore her hair

especially the pretty purple tips

and her voice puts you to sleep sometimes

ofc giyuu does the ‘sleep from calm voice’ thing better than she does

but it works so whatever

would scold tengen because she just knows

she knows of the vibe you and him radiate

(yk, the guardian carrying a child by the ankle.)

is protective of you because

well you’re a child.

you didn’t deserve to witness what you did

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny headcanons #demon slayer x child reader #hashira x child reader #muichiro tokito #mitsuri kanroji #gyomei himejima #sanemi shinaguzawa #giyuu tomioka #shinobu kocho #obanai iguro #tengen uzui #rengoku kyojuro #giyuu x child reader #giyuu tomioka x child reader #hashiras #rose’s garden #daisy fics 💮

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bfpnola · 1 year

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Abolition For Beginners (2023 Edition)

In honor of Tyre Nichols and all others we have lost to policing and imprisonment. In honor of Black History Month. In honor of Better Future Program's mission to educate and serve marginalized youth globally... Let's break down abolition, again. (As usual on Tumblr, tap for better quality.)

Image description below. Written by @reaux07. Proofread by the volunteers and supporters of @bfpnola.

Image Description:

[ID: All of the following slides use a wrinkled, black fabric as their background with black text (bolded red added for emphasis) on top of white boxes with rounded corners. “@bfpnola” is written in the top right corner and the sources for the slide are in the bottom left corner.

Title Slide (No. 1):

Written in red text, “UPDATED FROM 2021 EDITION.” The outlines of the word “ABOLITION” is written line by line 8 times in light grey with the year “2023” written on top in bold, white lettering. Below, written in red within a white bubble and red arrow, it reads “FOR BEGINNERS*.” Across from the bubble, “@BFPNOLA” is in red. Below, in red again, the asterisk mentioned before leads to the following note: “This post is heavily text-based so if you do not learn best by reading, feel free to utilize our Abolition Study Guide in our bio under "Social Justice Resources" instead!” Lastly, white stars and outlines of grey circles can be seen in each corner of the slide.

Slide No. 2 reads:

Abolition is an anti-capitalist, intersectional framework that aims to not only destroy the cages created by various “industrial complexes,” but to create inclusive, effective alternatives for addressing harm. As defined by Dr. Jennie Wang-Hall, an “industrial complex (IC) is a system that creates profit through embedding into social inequities and providing an ineffective product that keeps consumers under-resourced and returning for more.”

The most common examples of such systems? Prison and policing, psychiatry, foster care/family policing, the military, and even the Family (as an institution, not kinship altogether).

Despite common misconceptions, abolition is not just a negation of what currently exists, but an active evolution of what community-based support can and has looked like. Abolition is about the radical working-class imagination, about Black and Indigenous imagination.

If individualistic, reactive, punishment-based strategies are maintained, true accountability and rehabilitation will never exist. Instead, we can choose to be proactive, analyze the circumstances that perpetuate violence, and address harm at the root! Of course, no one is saying that harm will completely cease to exist, but to paraphrase butch anarchist Lee Shevek, wouldn’t it be a profound improvement to expand our capacity to respond to harm and challenge our abusers, rather than being restricted to system-granted authority? Especially when such systems deliberately ignore the suffering of marginalized communities (e.g. people of color, queer and trans folks, women and femmes, Mad and disabled folks, and so on) to begin with?

Sources: @Dr.JennieWH, @ButchAnarchy, Stella Akua Mensah, Erin Miles Cloud, @WokeScientist

Slide No. 3 reads:

Before we continue any further, let’s destroy the myth that cops actually stop violence. First off, we can’t depend on crime stats at face value because this begs the question of who exactly gets to define what counts as a “crime” and why (e.g. drug possession and sleeping in public vs. tax evasion of the wealthy and wage theft). Continuing, crime rates often only reflect violations that have actually been reported, chosen to be shown, and deemed out of line. By this logic, crime rates are simply reflections of cops’ perceptions, not of the material and emotional realities of the proletariat (i.e. the working-class).

As for perpetuating violence, “US law enforcement killed at least 1,183 people in 2022, making it the deadliest year on record for police violence.” (And those are just the deaths that were reported. In our home state of Louisiana, turns out the Jefferson Parish Sheriff’s Office, as of January 12, 2023, has been unlawfully destroying records of officer misconduct for at least 10 years.) Many (69%) of these murders were cases in which no offense was alleged, were mental health or welfare checks, or involved traffic violations and other nonviolent offenses.

This is, of course, without even touching on the involuntary servitude (i.e. enslavement) and maltreatment ongoing in American prisons. How many more deaths must occur before the general public says enough is enough? Or is this acceptable since these are working-class, disabled, Mad, non-white, queer, and trans lives being lost?

Sources: @InterruptCrim, The Guardian, Mapping Police Violence, @VeriteNewsNola

Slide No. 4 reads:

So we agree police are harmful. Why abolition instead of reform? Historically, reforms have either provided further funding to the prison, foster care, and psychiatric industrial complexes and/or just reinforced harmful ideologies surrounding policing as a whole. And trust us, these systems already have more than enough money. In the fiscal year of 2021, at least $277,153,670,501 were spent on federal law enforcement and prisons as well as on police and prisons by state and local governments. Can you even conceptualize a number that large? We could end all American medical debt with that much money. We could even provide clean water and waste disposal to everyone on Earth!

Continuing, reforms like body cameras are pitched as making officers more accountable, that if “done right” policing will actually keep people safe, and that those who do not use excessive force are suddenly no longer guilty of perpetuating centuries worth of systemic oppression. In reality, body cameras require further funding and increase surveillance!

Similarly, civilian oversight boards and the push to “jail killer cops” reinforce the belief that cases of murder, assault, falsifying information, and so on are exceptional occurrences rather than intrinsic to the very nature of policing itself. This is where the phrase “All Cops Are Bastards” comes into play, stating that while the individual character of some officers may be morally permissible, all cops are part of a “bastardized,” or corrupt, system.

Sources: Security Policy Reform Institute, Matt Korostoff, @CriticalResistance

Slide No. 5 reads:

Even laws don’t prevent police violence, e.g. the murder of Eric Garner despite the NYPD passing a policy against chokeholds, or the murder of Daunte Wright despite the passing of the George Floyd Law Enforcement Trust and Integrity Act and a separate Justice in Policing Act of 2020.

Alternatively, we can advocate against the expansion of policing “responsibilities,” i.e. not allowing officers to address Mad individuals in vulnerable states, the housing crisis, or people who use drugs (PWUD). We can reroute funding into non-coercive, peer-led initiatives for harm reduction, de-escalation, first aid, and self-defense. And maybe most importantly, we can reaffirm that EXTENSIVE power can, in fact, be found amongst everyday folks like you and me!

Abolition is not a one-and-done sort of deal but rather a progression of steps toward an infinite future of improvements. The act of building parallel infrastructures and modes of governance while the previous ones still exist is known as dual power. Abolition must begin as dual power. We can start today!

And in building such, these steps cannot: legitimize or expand oppressive systems we aim to dismantle, create divisions between “deserving” and “underserving” people, preserve existing power relations, or utilize exclusionary, one-size-fits-all, standardized treatments.

Sources: @ProjectLets, @HarmReductionCoalition, CrimethInc., Survived & Punished NY

Slide No. 6 reads:

One of the main questions brought up, though, is what abolitionists plan to do in the case of homicide, rape, domestic violence, and other harms. While this is entirely valid, this question seems to imply that 1) police are already effectively responding to such harms rather than perpetuating and/or ignoring them and 2) that there is one collective abolitionist response.

For one, the majority of sexual assault, for example, goes unreported and less than 0.5% of perpetrators are incarcerated. (And this assumes that through the reporting process and incarceration, survivors will somehow find healing, perpetrators will find understanding, and that sexual assault does not continue within prisons.) Meanwhile, let’s use our hometown as one example of many, a complaint of sexual violence is filed against a New Orleans Police Department officer every 10 days and nearly 1 in 5 NOPD officers have been reported for sexual and/or intimate partner violence.

And secondly, we have a plethora of organizations like Critical Resistance and cultures like that of the Diné (Navajo) to learn from and build upon. We don’t have to be stuck within this false dilemma fallacy, that there is only policing or total chaos. Don’t you see that that is the state’s way of constricting communal power?

Sources: @RAINN, @CopWatchNola, @WokeScientist

Slide No. 7 reads:

To expand this conversation, abolition heavily aligns with the political ideal of “anarchism.” Anarchism supports the absence of government and absolute freedom of the individual. And despite its negative connotations, anarchy also reflects an evolution of community-based care rather than just a deconstruction of what currently exists.

A simplified version of its 6 agreed-upon principles are:

Autonomy and Horizontality: define yourself on your own terms, we stand on an equal footing

Mutual Aid: bonds of solidarity form a stronger social glue than fear, support your community

Voluntary Association: associate or don't associate with whomever you wish

Direct Action: accomplish goals directly rather than depending on representatives or authorities

Revolution: overthrow those in power who enforce coercive hierarchies (ex. white supremacy)

Self-Liberation: you must be at the forefront of your own liberation, freedom must be taken

While being an abolitionist does not require alignment with anarchism, it is worth considering how the state plays such an enduring role in various social harms. Concurrently, whenever you treat other living beings with consideration and respect, come to reasonable compromise rather than coercion, and decide to share or delegate tasks, you are already living by anarchist principles.

Sources: Peter Gelderloos, David Graeber

Slide No. 8 reads:

So, how can you get involved? How do we continue the efforts already being made by activists worldwide? After such an overload of information and even more to learn, we understand how political frameworks like abolition can seem daunting, but they don't have to be! Here are some general next steps:

Read the "8toAbolition" steps.

Look into "podmapping" so you know whom to run to when you have been harmed or perpetuate harm.

See if there are any pre-existing mutual aid networks in your community, and if not, start one with your neighbors or peers!

Begin to research issues affecting communities other than your own. Abolition is intrinsically tied to all of us as we are all surveilled. For example, do you understand how prison and policing further ableism, transphobia, or the sex trade? What about policing internationally (see our allies in: the Kingdom of Hawai'i, Palestine, Artsakh, Kashmir...)?

Research the differences between capitalism, socialism, and communism. Abolition and anti-capitalism are foundational to one another as well.

Look into the other industrial complexes we named in the beginning (psychiatry, foster care, the military, the Family...).

Volunteer (remotely or in-person) with organizations like Better Future Program (@bfpnola) to both educate yourself and directly serve your community!

And if you're looking for further reading/listening, BFP offers over 3,000 FREE social justice, mental health, and academic resources in our Linktr.ee, including study guides for beginners. While we can't promise that the struggle for liberation will always be easy, BFP will always do its best to support you in whatever way we know how.

End ID.]

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impactedfates · 7 months

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Hello! Is it alright if I request platonic headcanons for Dan Heng, March 7th, and Welt with a teen!reader who’s really calm and chill? They don’t cause trouble/chaos, has a really calming presence, easy to talk to, is mostly mature for their age, but they aren’t cold or blunt. They are nice but not naive, and they are quite observant + smart when they need to be, so they’re good at solving problems (reader is kind of like the calmest one on the Astral Express lol)

Please remember to take breaks and to stay hydrated! Your health comes first :)

A/N: Yes it's alright :D Thank you, I'll remember to take breaks and drink water, you will too alright?? I'm so sorry if this came out so late :sob: I didn't mean to make you wait for so long!

Genre/Trope: Platonic + Found Family (Express Family)

Format: Head Cannons (Separate)

Warnings: None

Extra: Reader slightly of taller then March despite being younger // Grandpa Welt <33 // Reader was also found in ice along with March

Dan Heng admires how calm you can be, even in stressful situations and is thankful at how observant and smart you are. Likely helping the group get out of certain situations due to it. You're rather different to the girl who was found floating near you in ice and he noticed quickly how you two were almost polar opposites.

He enjoys having another person on board the express who's calm and he's thankful you're easy to talk too. And that you don't mind how closed off he is himself, he's also thankful you don't cause trouble on missions or the express and rather you help defuse them.

He sees you as a younger sibling and makes sure you're being taken care of as well. Everyone on the express is his family and he will ensure all will be protected. This means you have to eat your vegetables, hydrate and sleep.

I see you two relaxing in the archives as you help him with adding things into the Data Banks when neither of you can sleep. And when you do ultimately fall asleep, he carefully carries you back to your room and tucks you in before continuing working himself.

Also, despite being younger then most of the express, you're more mature then a good few of them which are adults. And he's unsure if he should be concerned cuz of that fact.

March 7th is older then you, but she considers you her twin! Simply because you were both found on the same day, and even though everyone knows you're a teen so younger then she is. People go along with it.

She complains a bit about being shorter then you, one of the times she doesn't call you her twin. But she means well, all her little annoyances and complaints with you slightly being taller is a joke.

Anytime she's stuck on a puzzle she always call for you (And I mean like, those puzzles you buy in shops) and always watches intently as you figure it out.

She's of course aware at how calm and chill you are, and honestly. When you two first got to know each other she wanted to see what would change that. Pulling pranks and attempting to annoy you but not too much. Yet you still stayed calm.

She's very interested at how you're so calm in nearly every situations, now a days. She accepts it as you and won't try to break the calmness you have. If she's ever having a bad day, she comes to you. You oddly have an aura that helps her calm down.

When Welt saw not one but TWO ice blocks containing people in it, he was shocked. However wasted no time in saving the two of you. Just like March you seemed to have lost your memories and he's determined to help you find out your past.

He sees you as his grandkid, and was even a bit protective of you at first. However seeing your calm nature and how smart you were in many situations calmed himself down. He's still worried if you go on missions but he trusts that you'll be protected.

He's not that surprised you act so differently to March when you two were both in ice however he does find it amusing in a way. You're still a teen so even if he does trust you now to go on missions, he wants you to update him.

Just like Dan Heng, he's thankful you're not only chill but don't cause problems, also you're rather mature for your age, if you were older then he'd definitely consider putting you in charge of the train if Dan Heng wasn't able too take charge. Considering you're age currently, only Dan Heng is in charge.

DIWNDJFEHW. Hopefully I'll be able to finish the next requests in the following days, I feel so bad for not being able to write them yet :,)

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 2 months

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No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Summary: Jake isn't worried when he is called to stand trial for his actions on the Uranium mission. After all, he saved Rooster and Maverick's lives. Who cares if he had to disobey orders to do so? However, Jake's about to learn this case isn't just the formality he thought it was... Word Count: 1864 Notes: Part of @whumpthemusical's event for Day 2- Wicked: "No Good Deed Goes Unpunished". Thank you so much to @green-socks for looking this over! 💗

As Jake Seresin strutted through the doors of the courtroom, his signature smirk spread across his face, he didn’t have a doubt in his mind he’d be walking out these same doors in a few hours with the exact demeanor. This was nothing more than a formality. The worst that would happen was he would get a stern talking to or possibly a light slap on the wrist. But it wouldn’t be anything he couldn’t bounce back from.

The Daggers sitting in the front row of the galley didn’t seem to share in his optimism based on the looks they were shooting in his direction. Ranging from leg-bouncingly nervous to a glare so intense it could burn a hole through steel, all eyes followed him as he passed, and he shot them a wink just for the fun of it.

They had spent the last few weeks warning him to take this case more seriously. After all, if he lost and they threw the book at him, it was almost guaranteed he would be permanently grounded, if not discharged from the Navy. But Jake knew he had nothing to worry about. He had saved the lives of one of the most accomplished pilots in the last several decades and the life of the pilot who completed the mission without the help of a targeting system. He was the hero who saved the two lost Dagger aviators, heroes in their own right.

Yes, it was true he had defied Cyclone’s direct orders to do so, but sometimes even in the military, split-second decisions had to be made in life-or-death situations where you didn’t have time to wait for updated orders. Everyone knew that. So while Jake understood why they had to go through with this court-martial trial, he already knew what the outcome would be.

Rooster was the first person to take the stand. He recounted every detail leading up to Jake’s just-in-time rescue, including a detailed and moving description of what it felt like pulling the ejection straps just for them to fail and knowing, with all certainty, that he was about to die—only for Jake to arrive and save them just as the enemy fired on them. Jake couldn’t believe it, but he even found himself moved by Rooster’s words and the way his voice choked up a little when he mentioned being spared a similar death to his father. And if this touching story was getting to him, it must be heartrending to the panel of judges!

Then it was Maverick’s turn and his deposition was just as powerful as Rooster’s. He praised Jake’s skills during training and his quick actions that saved his and Rooster’s lives on the mission. But the part that made Jake sit up a little straighter and his grin get a little bit wider was when Maverick cited an instance when he had done something similar in the past and it had been deemed a necessary action by the former Admiral Kazansky. And the icing on top of the cake was when Maverick added he believed Iceman would have approved of Jake’s actions that day.

As Maverick stepped down, Jake turned to look at the other Daggers, wishing he had one of his toothpicks to flip just to emphasize how sure he was that he had this in the bag.

But Jake had started to celebrate too soon.

Hondo was the next one called to the stand. The Warrant Officer couldn’t even look at Jake as they questioned him. He tried his best to turn things around in Jake’s favor, but there was little he could do when he had been in the control room and explicitly heard Cyclone order Jake to stand down. Hondo was also the one in charge of all of the deck preparations including take-offs and landings, so this whole ordeal didn’t bode well for him if it was determined that Jake was allowed to take off due to a failure on his part. Regardless of what happened today, Jake did hope his actions didn't get the other man in trouble. While he was positive Hondo would have done anything within his power to get Maverick and Rooster back, Jake had acted alone and no one else should be responsible for that.

Warlock was next to testify. He refused to elaborate on any of his responses, simply giving one or two-word answers that left little for the court to work with. But just like with Hondo, Warlock couldn’t deny the facts.

Had Jake taken off after Admiral Simpson had refused his request to provide cover? Yes.

Did Admiral Simpson retract or change his order before Jake took off? No.

Was it true that while Jake rescued Maverick and Rooster, it was without explicit permission to do so? Yes.

As he finished and walked out past where Jake was sitting, Warlock gave him a small, sad smile and a nod, and all Jake could do was nod back.

For the first time, Jake wasn’t smiling.

However, despite their less-than-stellar testimonies, it wasn’t until Cyclone took the stand that a pit formed in Jake’s stomach. Everyone knew Cyclone was a hard-ass stickler for rules and regulations and while the man had shown no ill-will towards Jake for his defiance of his orders, it quickly became clear he wasn’t going to defend him either.

By the time Cyclone was excused, Jake was nearly hyperventilating in his seat. How had he been so certain only an hour ago that there was nothing to worry about and now there was every chance he was about to lose everything. He could feel the eyes of all of the Daggers boring into the back of his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at them. Seeing the pity on their faces—he couldn’t handle that right now.

But then, it was his turn to testify. Walking slowly towards the stand, Jake wracked his brain for anything he could say to justify his actions. To make this all go away. But there was nothing he could do. Except…

When Jake sat down, the prosecutor began her questioning. Each one covered much of the same ground the others had already testified about. They were mostly yes or no questions and any time Jake tried to elaborate, he was cut off. But then they got to the final question:

“Lieutenant Seresin, in your own words, can you please explain to the court why you chose to disobey a direct order from your commanding officer despite knowing the possible consequences of your actions?”

Jake stared down at where his hands lay clasped in his lap. He had briefly practiced what he would say over the last few weeks; just a line or two about saving Rooster and Maverick’s asses, maybe even ending it with a clever jab about the right Dagger finally joining the mission, all told with his usual arrogant charm. But that was before it hit him what he was about to lose if this trial went wrong. How his entire world could come to an end on the word of the five people in front of him.

He was a pilot. It wasn’t just what he was, it was who he was. He was Lieutenant Jake Seresin. Hangman. The only active duty pilot with one—no, two confirmed air-to-air kills. He graduated top of his class at the academy, placed first during his time at Top Gun. He had medals and accommodations and had completed missions that would leave other pilots pissing their pants from just reading the briefing. He loved what he did, and goddammit, he was great at it. Possibly the best.

But now all of that was about to be taken away from him. So, he did the only move he had left—he told the truth.

Clearing his throat, Jake leaned forward to speak into the microphone. “I, um, I…I was just…”

Taking a deep breath, he started again. “Look. I know how this must look. Anyone who knows me knows I’m an arrogant son of a bitch who can outfly almost anyone and I never let them forget it. I understand that based on what you’ve heard, it probably seems like I was just trying to be the hero, to prove to everyone I should have been on the mission all along instead of Rooster. But I didn’t disobey orders to satisfy my own pride no matter what it looks like.”

Glancing down at his hands again, Jake was unable to look at any of the dozens of faces staring at him. “Yes. I was mad when I wasn’t picked for the mission, but I was only mad at myself. This was a team mission and I only ever flew to inflate my ego, not to benefit my team. Maverick made the right choice making me the spare. Then I heard him get shot down and all I could think was if I had just been better, maybe I could have been there and done something to save him. That’s why I originally asked to launch and provide air cover for the rest of the Daggers. Maybe I couldn’t help Maverick, but I could make damn sure the rest of the team made it home. However, I was told to stand down…and then Rooster was hit—”

Jake was surprised to find a lump growing in his throat and tears starting to prickle at the corner of his eyes yet he pressed on. “One of the first things they teach you when you start to fly jets is you never leave a wingman behind. It’s like when you’re a kid and your parents say to never swim alone. So when I heard Maverick and Rooster were alive and back in the air…I didn’t even think about asking for clearance. I had two wingmen who needed me and I wasn’t going to let them face down those 5th Gen fighters alone. I just…I just wanted to be the team member I should have been from the start.”

As he finished speaking, not a sound could be heard in the courtroom. Jake couldn’t remember the last time he had been that honest or raw with anyone and now he had opened up to an entire room of people, most of whom were friends or colleagues. He wasn’t quite sure he would ever be able to face the Daggers again, but if it meant he got to keep flying, it would be worth it.

With the testimonies finished, the panel filed out to deliberate. Jake rested his head on the table he was seated at and wondered how agonizingly long he would have to wait to learn his fate.

Fifteen minutes later, the panel returned.

Jake felt as if he were going to be sick. Long gone was the flashing grin and the arrogant gleam in his eye. No, right now Jake Seresin’s heart was racing faster than he had ever flown and he struggled to keep back the tears that were burning in the back of his eyes.

Rising to his feet, he stood at attention as he faced the men and women about to determine the rest of his life.

Taglist: @green-socks, @lorecraft, @heart-0n-fire, @mayhem24-7forever, @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @airhogger, @piscesvancouverite, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @sweetheartlizzie07, @yjwnoot, @wanderdreamer, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @callsign-phoenix, @shanimallina87, @forever-sleepy-sloth, @blue-aconite, @notroosterbradshaw, @dezthegeek, @blessupblessup, @cherrycola27, @phoenix1389, @nicangelinee, @smells-like-perfect-senses, @boringusername3, @petlaufeyson, @cycbaby, @topguncortez, @footprintsinthesxnd, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @writercole, @onebigfangirlworld, @wkndwlff, @ravenmoore14, @clancycucumber230, @mamachasesmayhem, @slightly-psycho-multifan, @kmc1989, @ohtobeleah, @roosterforme, @deppresseddyslexic, @horneybeach1, @mandylove1000

#fic #whump: the musical #jake hangman seresin #hangman #jake seresin #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #rooster #maverick #hondo #warlock #cyclone #angst #trial tw

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