#It's an honor to make you behave like a middle aged man | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bratdesire · 3 years

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Your Dad, My Daddy

Pairing: Ukai Keishin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, age gap, older man/younger woman, barely legal, squirting, rough sex, daddy kink, alcohol mention, questionable ethics, d/s dynamics, overstimulation, degrading language, touch of subspace, unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight dubcon if you squint but it’s all consensual, Ukai’s dick is pierced, exhibitionism(?)

Genre: Smut, just so much smut

Word count: 9.4k

Author’s note: Here is my contribution to the new HQHQ collab!! You can find the masterlist right here! Big big thank you to @sempiternal-amour and @inaflashimagine for beta-ing this monster fic, ilysm <3 This is so incredibly self-indulgent, I even inserted my nickname ~for spice~. Anyways, enjoy my incoherent screaming uwu

Summary: When you go over to your friend’s house for a study session you don’t anticipate meeting her very attractive father, and you surely don’t anticipate the very same man fucking you over their couch.

“Hey, I apologize in advance for anything weird my dad says or does. You know how dads are,” Hitomi explains as she pulls into the driveway of her house.

It’s small but nice and well-manicured, situated in the cul de sac of a middle-class suburb.

“Dad, we’re here,” she shouts up the stairs, setting her keys on the small table next to the front door. Hitomi’s gaze drifts to the tall, dark haired man sitting at the kitchen table and your own gaze soon follows. “Oh, there you are.”

She quickly pecks the man on his cheek before walking over to the shiny silver fridge, pulling out a couple bottles of water. “Dad, this is Bunny, Bunny this is Dad,” she gestures between the two of you.

When her father glances up from his phone to give you a nod of acknowledgement, you’re taken aback by how handsome he is.

You can tell from the slight wrinkles around his lips and the crinkles by his eyes that he’s definitely a much older man, but other than that he’s flawless. The angle of his jaw is sharp but soft, lower face darkened by his five o’clock shadow. His chocolate brown eyes are complemented by plump, pink lips that would look even better swollen and shiny with saliva. Dark, shiny locks are gathered into a low ponytail and you wonder how they would feel fisted in your fingers. He’s gorgeous in a rugged, mature way that boys your age aren’t and could never hope to be.

Hitomi never told you her dad was hot but then again, why would she?

“Mr. Ukai, it’s nice to meet you,” you greet him.

He waves his hand in the air dismissively, “Ah, you can just call me Keishin. No need to be so formal.”

Hitomi mutters a frustrated “shit” under her breath and it takes you a few moments to tear your eyes away from the man in front of you.

“I left my textbook in the car, I have to go grab it,” she sighs then turns to her dad. “You, don’t scare off my friend, please.”

Keishin puts a hand on his heart, a falsely serious expression on his face. “I won’t, scout’s honor.”

She just rolls her eyes, exiting the kitchen the same way you entered. The front door slams shut, leaving you alone with your friend’s very hot dad.

Keishin looks up at you then quickly looks away, unsure how to interact with his daughter’s friends. “So is, uh, Bunny your real name?” he asks, nervously rubbing the back of his head.

Leaning against the table he’s seated at, you fold your arms across your chest, fully aware of how low cut your top is. You don’t miss the way his eyes briefly flicker down to your cleavage then back up to your face. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I… I’m just trying to make conversation,” he laughs nervously.

“Hm, well, the short answer is no. You’ll have to get to know me a bit better before I give you the long answer.”

He snorts, pushing his chair back and rising to his full height. “What gave you the confidence to speak like this to your elders?”

Taking a step towards him, you twirl a piece of hair around your finger and shyly peer up at him through your lashes. “I don’t know, but maybe you can teach me how to behave.”

A light blush colors his cheeks and his eyes widen with surprise. “I-I don’t know what you’re implying, but it’s not... appropriate,” he stutters, taking a step backwards to try to put some distance between you.

You sidle up to him, reaching out a hand to caress his well-muscled arm. When he makes no move to stop your petting, you bite your lip and get on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Who said we had to be appropriate?”

His mouth is slightly agape, lips moving every so often, as if he wants to say something but doesn’t. “I—” he starts.

The sound of the front door slamming open makes you both jump apart, trying to appear as casual as possible.

“I got it! We can go study now,” Hitomi proclaims, waving the book around in her hands. She glances at you, then at her father and notices the way you’re completely turned away from each other. “Oh my God, Dad, what did you do?” she groans.

He holds up both hands in surrender, shaking his head emphatically. “I didn’t do anything! Why do you always think I did something?”

Your friend strides over to lightly punch his shoulder, a disapproving but loving expression on her face. “Because you’re weird and lame. Besides, between you and Bunny, I’m always going to assume that you’re the guilty party.”

You find yourself chuckling at their banter, touched by how close they are. It’s evident that Hitomi and Keishin care a lot about each other, regardless of how much they tease each other and guilt twists in your gut when you remind yourself that you were flirting with him. She likely wouldn’t forgive you for trying to sleep with her dad and it would cause a great deal of damage to their relationship, possibly beyond repair if she knew he was into girls her age. To make matters worse, you’re two years her junior. What man would sleep with a girl younger than his daughter?

But your morals are tossed right out the window when you take in the sight of Keishin’s radiant smile—all straight, white teeth and eyes that shine like pools of dark honey. It’s in that moment that you decide you’re going to seduce that man if it’s the last thing you do.

Sorry, Hitomi. Kind of.

---

“Okay, so L-Tyrosine is one of the twenty amino acids used by the body to synthesize proteins. It is also an aromatic amino acid derived from phenylalanine by hydroxylation in the para position—oof!” Hitomi’s droning is cut off by the pillow you send hurtling towards her head.

You sit up on her bed, squealing obnoxiously as you stretch. “Hitomi, I love you, but please shut up. My brain is melting. We’ve been at this for three hours now, can we take a break?”

She closes the textbook in her lap and pushes it to the edge of her desk. “Fine, fine. We can take a twenty minute break, but we have to go right back to studying because finals are this week and I cannot afford to fail,” your friend warns, despite how she whips out her phone at lightning speed.

Picking at a stray thread on the comforter, you gently try to get her attention, “Hey, Tomi?”

“Hm?” she responds, barely glancing up from the video she’s watching.

You’re not sure how to broach the subject, but you’ve never been one to beat around the bush so you just come right out and say it. “Has anyone told you your dad’s kinda hot?”

That makes her stop, her head jerking up from her phone at lightning speed. “What!? That old geezer?” She sounds dumbfounded, incredulous at the prospect that someone would be interested in her father.

“Yeah girl, he’s a total DILF,” you confess, making a little fanning motion with your hand like you’re burning up inside just thinking about him, and it’s not that far from the truth.

Hitomi makes no effort to hide her feelings, disgust clearly evident in her delicate features. “Ew! You have to be joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not joking! He’s really sexy,” you muse dreamily.

She claps both hands over her ears, yelling at the top of her lungs to drown you out. “I never want to hear you say that my old man is ‘sexy’ ever again!”

You childishly stick your tongue out at her. “Hey! I’m just speaking the truth. You have to have had friends say the same thing.”

Removing her hands from her ears, she brings one up to stroke her chin, seemingly deep in thought. “Now that I think about it, back in high school my friends were a lot more enthusiastic about coming over once they met my father.”

You feel vindicated by her personal testimony, even if she thinks you’re gross. “See? I’m not the only one who finds your dad ridiculously attractive.”

Hitomi gags dramatically as if she’s going to puke and judging by the look on her face, she just might. “Please, no more, I’m begging you.”

“Fine, fine I’ll stop, but don’t act surprised when I become your new stepmom,” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows at her.

“You’re younger than me, don’t even joke about that,” she shudders in horror. “Okay, with that we need to get back to studying amino acids and proteins.”

“Whatever you say, future stepdaughter.” You muster your best motherly voice, sickeningly sweet and a touch passive aggressive.

This time, it’s Hitomi’s turn to throw a pillow at you.

---

Since the day you met Keishin, you haven’t been able to get him off your mind. Even when you’re in class trying to learn about the sodium-potassium pump, you find your thoughts drifting to his hands, his lips, him. He’s simply become too distracting to ignore.

More times than you care to admit, you’ve fucked yourself with your fingers to thoughts of how his fingers would feel pumping inside you. You fantasize about how his hand would feel around your neck, squeezing with just enough pressure to make your vision hazy. His name is always on the tip of your tongue when you orgasm and when you finally let yourself moan out ‘Keishin,’ you know enough is enough. A man his age has to know exactly how to make a woman scream and writhe in pleasure, but you need to experience it for yourself or you’ll die trying.

You’re not oblivious to the way he looks at you with hunger and longing in his eyes, you know he wants you too and you’re not above using dirty tricks to show him just how much you want him.

If he’s too proud, too noble to give in to his urges, you’ll just have to break him. His resolve may be strong, but yours is stronger.

Your efforts begin innocently enough, gently probing him for more information about himself so you can get to know him better.

“I’ve noticed you don’t wear a ring. Is there a Mrs. Ukai in the picture?” you ask innocently.

Keishin clears his throat a bit too loudly, refusing to meet your questioning gaze. “Nah. It’s just me and Tomi, always has been.”

“Any… future Mrs. Ukai in the picture?”

The corners of his lips twitch slightly, the barest of smiles tugging at his handsome features. “Can’t say there is. Between the store and coaching volleyball, I don’t really have the time to date.”

You nod and make a noise of acknowledgement, relieved by the confirmation that he is in fact very, very single. You’re a lot of things, but you’re not a homewrecker.

On another occasion, you’re seated on their plush leather couch and Keishin’s in the well-worn La-Z-Boy recliner to your left. You’re watching some Adam Sandler movie on Netflix, but it’s paused while Hitomi is in the bathroom.

You take your alone time together as an opportunity to question him more, toeing the line of what would be considered proper. “So, Keishin, how old are you? I know Tomi’s twenty-one so you must be…” you trail off, hoping he’ll humor you.

He takes a swig of the beer in his hand and your eyes instinctively flicker down to watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Old.”

You roll your eyes and prop your chin up on your hand, readjusting your position on the couch so you’re leaning closer to him. “Obviously, but just how old?”

“Why do you want to know so badly?” he asks, head tilted and a well-groomed eyebrow lifted questioningly.

“I was just wondering if you’re older than my dad,” you tease.

His shoulders shake slightly as he chuckles, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’m forty-four. Do I have him beat?”

“He’s forty-two, so just barely.” Your steady, unwavering eyes lock onto his own, which are glassy and unfocused from the alcohol. When he brings the bottle to his lips once more, you nonchalantly add, “Maybe I should call you Daddy instead.”

Keishin coughs and sputters in surprise, causing him to choke on his beverage and a spray of sticky beer splatters across your face.

Apologies tumble out of his mouth as soon as he realizes that your cheeks and hair are dripping with the craft IPA he was drinking. “I-I’m so sorry! I’ll get you a towel,” he blurts, shooting up from his chair.

In his panic and embarrassment, he rushes toward the linen closet and you can’t help the giggles that escape your mouth at how uncoordinated he is, now several drinks in. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not that big of a deal,” you reassure him, wiping your face with the back of your hand for emphasis.

He returns from the rummaging around the hall closet, a dark blue towel in his hand, which he offers to you with a nod of his head.

No matter your protests and assurances that you’re fine, Keishin is even more insistent in offering you the towel to clean yourself up. When you refuse to take the towel from him, he kneels down next to you and leans in to dab at the foamy liquid that has soaked into your hair.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his fingers on your jaw and you almost squeak at his close proximity. He hasn’t let you near him since your first encounter and now he’s right in front of you, so close that his breath curls around your cheeks, smelling of malted hops and the slightest hint of peppermint. You can map out the slight freckles on the bridge of his nose and each long, curled eyelash that brushes his cheeks each time he blinks.

He’s truly a beautiful man, all sharp angles and rough stubble and you can feel your cheeks warm when you realize that he’s right there. If you leaned forward just a little bit more, your noses would brush against each other.

A deep, rumbling voice interrupts your daydreaming. “Kid, are you even listening to me?”

You blink a couple times, coming to the realization that he’s been trying to talk to you for the last few minutes, but you were too busy admiring his beauty.

Keishin shakes his head as he leans back on his heels, using one hand to rub his face wearily. “As I was saying, you can’t just… say things like that. I know young girls sometimes have fantasies about older men like me, but I’m telling you now that it’ll only end badly,” he sighs. “I’m not a righteous man, I have my vices. God, do I have lots of them, and I don’t need another one.”

He mumbles the last sentence, barely loud enough for you to hear, despite how close you are.

Another one? Is he admitting that the attraction is mutual? You have to know, you just have to. Your body practically aches from how badly you want him.

“Keishin, I—” you start, reaching out to touch his arm, but he stands abruptly and quickly turns to shuffle away from the couch.

“This just isn’t a good idea, kid. Just forget about me, alright?” he says, his back to you. A tinge of regret and hesitation seeps into his words, as if he wants to take back everything he’s said.

After the beer incident, the man is even less receptive than he was before, making every effort to avoid being alone with you.

Even still, you’re not discouraged because he never outright rejected you. If he had, you would’ve stopped your pursuit weeks ago, but he only seems to be trying to maintain his composure as a righteous man.

Righteous men are wolves in sheep’s clothing, always putting on a facade so they can claim plausible deniability when they’re caught with their pants around their ankles. But no matter how honorable or virtuous a man tries to be, none of them can resist a wet, willing pussy laid out in front of them and Keishin is no exception.

That’s why you’ve shown up to their house the last few weeks in skirts far too short to be considered decent, flashing little peeks of your underwear each time you move too much or bend over too far. Each time you bend over to grab a pencil or a piece of paper off the floor, Keishin is always conveniently positioned behind you so he gets an eyeful of your pretty lace panties and the little dark spot where your wetness has soaked through the fabric.

After you retrieve your item from the ground, you look over your shoulder to make direct eye contact with him and say ‘oops,’ without a hint of regret in your voice. You revel in the clenching of his jaw and the way he exhales loud and heavy through his nose, frustration mounting each time you try to provoke him.

When your ass and clothed pussy are on display for him, you make sure to wiggle your hips a bit, an open invitation to fuck you the way you both want to. It never fails to elicit some sort of reaction from the older man, ranging from a few groans and a choked cough, to making a very hasty exit, a book or some other object held over the front of his jeans.

Without fail, Hitomi expresses her concern each time her father storms out of the room, red-faced and breathing heavily. He just waves her off, telling her he’s not feeling well, but you know the truth. He’s painfully hard, painfully hard from you, even if he doesn’t admit it.

Truthfully, if you weren’t trying to get him to fuck you so hard you can’t walk you would applaud his self-control and restraint. Even after weeks of teasing and provocation, the man refuses to give in to his desires.

That’s okay. If he’s not going to come to you, you’ll just have to take matters into your own hands.

----

It all reaches a tipping point when you’re unable to go home for winter break and Hitomi offers you their guest room to stay in for a few weeks.

Apparently she never asked her father for permission, if Keishin’s shocked, slightly panicked face when you walked through the door with your suitcase was any indication. When he tried to question Hitomi about whether or not it’s such a good idea for you to stay, she wasn’t having any of it and told him that you’re a friend in need.

Hitomi’s so sweet and caring that you feel a twinge of guilt for plotting to seduce her father in her house when she’s none the wiser. She just wanted to lend a helping hand by letting you stay with them, oblivious to your true plans, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Now that you’re under the same roof, all you really want to do is ambush Keishin as soon as possible, but you have to plan around Hitomi’s schedule so you have bide your time. What’s the saying? Good things come to those who wait?

And wait you do. You wait for two whole weeks, in fact. But then the stars align so perfectly that some otherworldly force must be looking out for you.

Hitomi is gone to work and won’t be back until the middle of the night when her shift is over, while Keishin is home reviewing footage from his team’s latest game.

He told you he does this right before a big game so he can tell his players what they need to improve on and get in that last bit of refinement before the day of. When he clued you in on his strategy you just nodded and hummed, not really listening, mostly focused on ogling his muscles through his thin t-shirt.

Your nerves have been buzzing since you woke up this morning, sensing the heaviness in the air. You’re wearing your prettiest lace panties and its matching bra and frankly, you’re feeling pretty damn confident. You look good and you know you look good. If you were trying to seduce any guy your age, they’d drop their pants as soon as they got a little glimpse of your underwear, but Keishin’s not any guy your age. He needs a little convincing, a little push in the right direction, and you’ll be the one to help him.

You’ve flitted around the house all day, just trying to find the right moment to pounce.

Currently, Keishin is sitting in the living room watching the recording on the big flat screen in the living room. He looks preoccupied with taking notes on the notepad in his lap, but it’s now or never, you suppose.

Before you try to talk yourself out of it, you stride over to where he’s sitting and put your hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

“Hey. Did you need something? I’m kind of busy analyzing my team’s last game.”

Not wanting to lose your nerve, you wordlessly swing one leg over his, then the other, planting yourself firmly in his lap. His entire body goes ramrod stiff, hands jerking away from your body as if you’ve burned him.

“W-what do you think you’re doing?” he stutters, alarm evident in his voice.

When he makes no move to throw you off his lap, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean into him, pressing your chest to his.

“What we both have been wanting to do since the day I met you,” you purr, lips barely brushing against the shell of his ear. He shivers when you gently nibble on his earlobe and your confidence only grows as you discover that he wants this just as much as you do.

“I d-don’t know what you’re talking about. This isn't right. I’m your friend’s father and I’m... old enough to be y-yours,” he mutters, running a hand through his already messy hair, conflicted with how to proceed.

You can’t tell whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, so you decide to give him a little encouragement.

Leaning back slightly, you run your hands down his chest and bite your lip. “Are we going to keep playing games or are you gonna fuck me? Because if not, I’ve got several guys back at college who—”

You’re cut off when Keishin’s hand wraps around your throat, the other braced against your back to pull you flush against him.

“You think your little stunts are cute, don’t you?” he growls, his minty breath washing over your face.

“What, you don’t think so, Daddy?” you pout, batting your eyelashes at him innocently.

His eyes flash with something hot and primal and you can feel the gush of wetness between your thighs. “I’m getting a little tired of them,” he growls.

“This,” you palm at the bulge straining against his pants, “Tells me otherwise, you know.”

The hand around your throat tightens, cutting off whatever bratty remark you were about to make. “I’ve had enough of you prancing around my home in tiny skirts and flashing me your panties when my daughter is around. It’s unbecoming.”

“Then t-teach me a lesson,” you gasp, struggling to speak with Keishin’s fingers so firmly wrapped around your throat.

The way he grins is downright sinful and it stokes the fire already raging inside you. “Careful what you wish for, little girl.”

With some manhandling on Keishin’s part, you’re shoved toward the couch then pulled back onto his lap, but this time you’re on your stomach and both your wrists are pinned behind your back.

“Before we go any further,” he starts, trailing his fingers down your spine and leaving goosebumps in their wake. “I have to ask… How old are you?”

You twist around to look him in the eyes, a defiant smirk on your face. “Old enough.” Your mischievous giggle is cut off by a swift, firm slap to your ass.

“Watch the lip, brat. I need a little more reassurance than that.”

“Since you’re just so concerned, I’m nineteen. Perfectly legal and more importantly, legally fuckable,” you say, punctuated by an enticing wiggle of your hips.

“Jesus, you’re two years younger than Tomi. What am I doing?” He seems lost in thought as the honorable side of him fights a losing battle against his baser, carnal instincts. Whatever reservations he has are thrown aside when you start to wiggle in his grasp, maneuvering yourself over his crotch to grind yourself against his hardness.

Keishin gathers your hair around his fist, harshly jerking your head so far backwards that your spine aches from the unnatural angle.

“Stop fucking squirming. You just don’t know how to behave, do you?” It’s phrased like a question, but he shoves two of his fingers in your mouth so you can’t respond.

You knew Keishin would be the perfect dom, but the ease with which he settles into the role makes your head spin and your insides throb. Latching onto his digits, you lick and suck like the good girl you are, coating them in saliva as he hums in appreciation.

“Foo wans tuh behav wen thith is wutt I ge fo bein ba?” you ask, garbled and muffled by the fingers massaging the back of your tongue.

A series of harder, heavier spanks make you squeal and squirm even more in his lap. He gently rubs his hand over your warm, stinging flesh as he speaks. “Such a troublemaker. Just what am I going to do with you, hm?” He tries to sound admonishing, but you can tell he’s smiling behind his words.

His hand leaves your ass, no doubt raised to spank you again, but before he can, you bite down on his fingers. Not too hard, just enough for him to jerk them out of your mouth. “You can do whatever you want to me, Daddy.”

You jolt when his thumb rubs against your pussy through your panties. They’re soaked with your slick, the material clinging to your skin uncomfortably. The barest touch has you gasping and pushing your hips back for more. You’re so sensitive from the teasing and you’re so turned on you just might pass out if you’re not filled up soon.

Keishin just laughs darkly at the pathetic humping of your hips and you can feel the rumbling in his chest. “This is what I love about girls your age. So sensitive…” He pulls your panties aside and gently eases a finger inside you, then another as you moan and shake in his lap. “And so reactive. I bet you’d cum just from me putting my cock inside this tight, wet cunt, wouldn’t you?”

He speaks with a hint of condescension that has you clenching around his digits, coating them in sticky, syrupy strands of your arousal as they pump in and out of you. You’d almost be embarrassed at how worked up you are if you had more self respect, but you don’t. All you can focus on is the way his fingertips curl into the little spongy spot inside you that makes you whine.

“Why don’t you try it and find out?” The challenge in your voice is severely dampened by how breathless and wrecked you are even though you haven’t really even done anything.

His fingers pull out of you with a lewd squelching sound and you can hear him suck them into his mouth. ��You taste even better than I imagined, but I want to taste that sweet pussy of yours. Up, little girl.” He coaxes you from his lap and onto the couch so your back is nestled into the cushions.

Sweat is making hair stick to your forehead and you’re breathing so heavily you’d think you just ran a marathon, but Keishin is looking down at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world and it nearly steals what little breath you have left in your lungs.

Oxygen is the last thing on your mind when his lips slot themselves between yours, soft yet demanding as they suck and lick. The movement of his lips doesn’t falter when he pulls your shirt over your head to reveal your light pink bra. Keishin pulls back to kiss along your collarbones, neck, and chest, his teeth occasionally nipping your sensitive flesh and leaving goosebumps in their wake. He expertly removes your panties with one hand so you’re left in just your plaid skirt, exposing your heated flesh to the coolness of the living room.

You’re nearly naked but he’s wearing far too many clothes for your liking, so you blindly grab at his shirt, but your fingers are shaking too much for you to get a good grip. Once he realizes what you’re trying to do, he puts his hands over yours and helps you take off his shirt. You nearly start drooling when all of his hard, rippling muscles and smooth, tan skin are finally revealed to your greedy eyes that can’t seem to settle one thing. You don’t know if you’ll get this opportunity again and you want to remember everything in painstaking detail, especially Keishin’s gorgeous body.

He momentarily disentangles himself from you to remove his jeans, leaving him in just his Calvin Klein boxer briefs. The outline of his cock is evident as it strains against the blue material and you reach out to stroke it, but he just takes your hand in his.

He brings it to his lips, then kisses up your arm until he reaches your lips. “All in due time, sweet girl. I want to taste you first.” Your mouth is claimed in another hungry, bruising kiss and you squeal when Keishin takes your lip between his teeth and bites, blood rushing to the surface of your skin.

His head dips down to leave featherlight kisses and teasing licks down your chest and stomach before he’s resting between your thighs. You whimper pitifully as he spreads your legs, awaiting the feeling of a wet tongue or his fingers against your folds. When he doesn’t move for several beats, you come to the realization that he’s just watching the way your cunt twitches and clenches around nothing and the wetness that drips onto the couch each time your muscles contract. You quickly bring your legs together to hide yourself from his scrutinizing gaze, but he simply pries them open with little effort.

Keishin grabs your chin so you’ll look right at him, squirming from the intensity of his gaze. “Don’t you dare hide this pretty pussy from me, do you understand? I am going to devour you until I’ve had my fill and you’re going to just lie back and take it.”

You nod obediently, your impudence quickly dying, giving way to the burning ache between your legs that can only be sated by a long, hard fuck.

With a satisfied hum, he settles at the apex of your thighs and licks a long stripe from your quivering pussy to your swollen clit and your hips jerk from the contact. Strong hands pin your hips to the couch as you writhe in his firm grip. He gives your clit a soft, quick kiss before he takes it into his mouth and sucks. You grab fitfully at his hair, back arching and hips pressing into his mouth as you gasp and groan from the incredible feeling of his tongue on your sensitive flesh.

His tongue teases your entrance and your cunt twitches, anticipating the first thrust of his warm, wet muscle inside you. He occasionally dips into your hole, but never breaches your entrance and you think you might go mad if he doesn’t give you more.

“I-I need more, give me more,” you manage to gasp, grabbing a fistful of the pillow underneath you as the tightening in your belly gets stronger.

Keishin removes his mouth from your cunt just long enough to admonish you for your lack of respect. “You need to have more manners if you’re going to demand things of me,” he says, before latching back onto your swollen, twitching clit.

“Daddy, pleeease I need more. Ah! I want to cum!” Your voice is so high-pitched and whiny you almost don’t recognize yourself, but you’re nearly delirious from pleasure and your impending climax that’s been dangled over your head for what feels like hours.

“Now who am I to deny you when you ask so sweetly?”

He thrusts two of his digits inside you, reaching deep inside you and rubbing against your g-spot as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. You’re almost screaming at this point, clawing at his hair and humping your cunt against his face. The familiar tightening in your belly signals that you’re about to cum and your moans and cries get faster, louder as the promise of white hot pleasure is just within reach—

It’s almost embarrassing how fast you’re teetering on the edge of climax, as if you’re a virgin school girl that’s never touched herself before. But maybe that’s the difference that years of experience can make.

Not that you care. You just want to cum.

“Fuck, Daddy, I—I’m close!”

Sensing your impending orgasm, the man uses his free hand to slap your cheek then grabs your throat. “Uh-uh-uh,” he tuts, “Ask Daddy for permission to cum.” You’re clamping down on his fingers impossibly tighter as he fingers you even deeper, and the way he sucks on your clit renders you incapable of speech. Each time you open your mouth to try to speak, more desperate, wanton noises escape your lips.

You’re about to fucking burst at the seams and you feel like you’re on fire, but you want to be a good girl for your daddy, so you use the last bit of brain power you have left to ask for permission.

“P-pleaaase Daddy may I ahhh! May I cum!” you ask, but you can’t even hear Keishin give his approval from how loud the blood rushing in your ears is as you finally cum.

You try to muffle your cries with the back of your hand, but he grabs your wrist and wrenches it away from your mouth.

“Don’t do that. I want to hear you scream.” His tone is clipped and short, not caring how rough he is with your delicate flesh.

If you weren’t already cumming, you would have from the pleasure that’s so intense, it’s almost painful as your body is wracked with tremors. Your legs snap around Keishin’s head and you grip his hair even tighter as wave upon wave of your orgasm washes over you. You hear someone screaming and wonder what’s happening, when you realize it’s you, you’re the one screaming as you ride out your climax.

He greedily slurps and sucks up every single drop of your release that you can give him, as if he was stranded in the desert for a thousand years and your juices are the first sip of water to hit his dry, parched tongue. Your cunt is already so sensitive, painfully clenching around his fingers, but he just. Doesn’t. Stop.

“Fuck, K-Kei, wait ‘s too much,” you weakly protest, but your body is too spent to resist so you just lie there, twitching and gasping as he keeps sucking on your overstimulated clit.

His lips detach from your poor, abused bud and you almost sigh in relief before the fingers inside your cunt pump faster, stimulating every inch of your gummy walls.

Keishin leans over your sweaty, exhausted form, one hand braced on the couch, the other buried inside you. His fingers are hitting a spot inside you that makes you feel the urge to pee, so you try to push his hand away but it’s futile with how much stronger he is than you.

“Hold onnn, I’m g-gonna—” you slur, panicked, but it’s as if he didn’t hear you.

His digits are relentless, rubbing and stroking and you’re a fucked out mess. You don’t know what he wants until an uncomfortable tightness shoots through your cunt. You cry out as clear liquid gushes out of you, splashing all over you, the couch, and Keishin. If you were more coherent, you might be mortified because you just… pissed on him—

To your surprise, he’s laughing as he removes his hand from inside you, ignoring your halfhearted groans. “I was hoping you’d do that,” he says, holding up his hand, shiny and dripping with your juices.

“D-Do what?” you pant, unsure of what just happened and why Keishin seems so smug.

He uses his discarded t-shirt to wipe his hand off, then dabs at your stomach where a sizable puddle accumulated. “Squirt,” he responds. When he sees your confused expression, he follows up with, “It’s not piss, if you’re worried about that.”

“Ooookay.” You’re too dazed and exhausted to argue with him or question him further, so you just flop into the sofa and close your eyes.

“C’mon, little girl, don't tell me that’s all you’ve got. You were talking so much shit earlier and I have so much more to give you.” Despite how tired you are, his words spark new arousal in your belly and defiance revitalizes you, movement returning to your limbs.

You slide a hand down your stomach and spread the puffy lips of your cunt, sliding a finger through your wetness. “Of course it’s not. I’m ready to take that hard cock of yours, Daddy.”

“Attagirl, that’s what I like to see,” he praises, dropping his underwear and sliding them somewhere you can’t see.

His cock is gorgeous, but that doesn’t come as a surprise, considering the man it belongs to. It’s thick and curved in a way that you know will reach the deepest parts of you.

What you weren’t expecting is the many piercings adorning the shaft and the one that goes through the head. A long curved barbell enters through the tip and exits through the underside of his glans. Three evenly spaced rings are embedded in the skin where his shaft meets his balls. You’ve never seen so many piercings on one man, let alone in such a sensitive place, so you gawk at the smooth metal rings that shine in the overhead lights.

“You’re… You have…”

He grins widely and it’s so devilish you think he might swallow you whole and honestly? You’d let him. You’d let him do whatever he wants to you. “Haha, yeah I get that reaction a lot. Never seen a pierced cock before, huh?”

“No, but there’s a first time for everything. I’m dying to see how those,” you point to his piercings, “Feel inside me.”

Keishin wordlessly climbs on top of you and rubs the head against your wetness, spreading it along his shaft to ease his entry. “They’ll feel fucking incredible, but you’ll have to beg for it.”

You scoff, reaching to grab his hips so he’ll fuck you already, but he scoots backwards so you can’t touch him.

“Naughty girls that misbehave don’t get fucked, so you’d better smarten up quickly,” he warns, making you gasp as he thrusts his cock against your clit.

He lazily nudges the head over your flesh, occasionally letting it catch on the tight ring of muscle around your hole. When he slots between your pussy lips, you try to wiggle and hump your hips in his direction, in hopes that he’ll slide right in.

But he doesn’t, and you’re about to go mad with his cock so close, but so far away.

“Please fuck me Daddy. I need your cock so bad!” You’re on the verge of tears, the buildup of the last few weeks overwhelming your senses.

Making a noise of sympathy, Keishin pets your hair affectionately and kisses your cheek. “All you had to do was ask.”

His hips pull back, then he’s thrusting inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt in your tight heat. You whimper and whine at the sudden intrusion, but any pain you feel is overshadowed by the way that his cock is filling you so full. The burn and stretch hurts so fucking good that your orgasm hits you like a freight train, fast and hard and blinding. Keishin fucks you through it, his cock touching all of the sensitive spots inside you and the pleasure is so strong you have to screw your eyes shut as you cry out and fall apart around him.

When you open them again, the man is staring down at you with the most shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. “See? I said you’d cum as soon as I put my cock inside you.”

Using all the strength you can muster, you slap his arm. “Shut up and just fuck me.”

“You still haven’t learned your manners, but I just can’t wait to shoot my cum deep inside this cute cunt of yours,” Keishin groans, pulling almost all the way out before burying himself back inside the hot, welcoming clutch of your pussy.

You can feel each of the metal rings on his cock, foreign and strange, but the odd feeling soon fades to little shocks of ecstasy each time they brush against your insides.

The lewd slapping sounds of skin on skin are all you can hear besides the occasional moan or hiss from the man fucking you within an inch of your life, not that you can focus on anything else right now.

You nudge at Keishin’s shoulder and he stops the rapid pistoning of his hips, an almost annoyed look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, but you just smile and push him backwards onto the couch, just like you were. He grunts in surprise as he falls backward, but he quickly quiets down when you climb on top of him and sink yourself back down on his length.

You both moan in unison as he fills you once more, the tip of his cock pressing against your cervix each time you force your cunt back down on him. His hands wander to your tits, grabbing, squeezing, and pinching the sensitive buds of your nipples.

Ever the troublemaker, you can’t resist making a jab at him now that you’re on top. “I wonder what she’d do if she knew you were with me right now. What would your daughter say about you taking advantage of a young, helpless girl?”

Keishin takes that moment to pull you against him, thrusting hard and rough into your gummy walls that never stop pulsing around him. You’re shaking and gasping, your tongue lolling out of your mouth in your pleasured delirium. “With the way your greedy, sloppy cunt is clenching around me, I wouldn’t say I’m taking advantage of you,” he points out, only slightly out of breath. “But you get off on this, don’t you? Letting an old man like me fuck you. I’m old enough to be your father.”

“Like you’re any b-better,” you bite back.

You cry out when Keishin starts rubbing your swollen clit in tight little circles, your third orgasm fast approaching.

“Fuck! I can—urgh, I can feel your pussy pulsing around me. I’m g-gonna cum,” he grits out, thrusting impossibly deeper inside you. He's pressed so far into you, he’s just thumping the head of his cock against your cervix. You scream and write in his arms, seeking to relieve the sharp burning in your womb just a little bit, but he has you firmly locked in his clutches. “Be a good little girl and cum for Daddy.”

Almost on command, you shake and moan, loud and long, as you cream all over his cock and coat the base in milky white. “Oh fuck, oh god! D-Daddy I’m cu-mming!” you wail with the last of your energy.

You’re so exhausted you go limp against him and let him use your body as a fuck toy until he reaches his climax. Keishin follows soon behind you, his thrusts growing sloppier and less coordinated as he mumbles obscenities under his breath. “Shit shit shit, fuck I’m cumming! I’m gonna—fuck!”

With one last thrust into your fluttering, over stimulated cunt he orgasms, his legs shaking as he shoots rope after rope of cum into your quivering womb.

You both lay there for several minutes to catch your breaths. You’re so sore and boneless you can barely move, but you manage to extricate yourself from Keishin’s long limbs. Leaning into the arm of the couch, you let your eyes flutter closed and allow sleep to take you.

You’re awoken by a warm, wet washcloth rubbing against your sensitive folds and you whine, sleepily wiggling your hips to get away from the discomfort. “Kid, I know it doesn’t feel good but, uh, it’s kind of a mess down there. You can go back to sleep, just let me clean you up.” Keishin’s familiar timbre comforts you so you settle back down, still half asleep.

“Mmm, Keishin?” you mumble, making grabby hands at the man.

He takes one of your hands in his. “Yeah?” he responds as he wipes the washcloth between your legs with his other hand.

You rub your face against his hand before placing a sloppy kiss on top of it. “Thank youuuu,” you slur.

Keishin just chuckles and rubs his fingers over your knuckles. “Yeah kid, you’re welcome. Just get some rest, alright?”

You’re asleep before he even finishes the sentence.

----

When you awaken it’s dark, most likely the middle of the night. There’s a blanket thrown over your unexpectedly clothed body, which is now covered in a worn, oversized shirt. It smells like fabric softener and musk, so you figure it must be Keishin’s.

Looking around, you bolt upright when you realize you’re not on the living room couch anymore, you’re now in a large, comfortable bed.

The sound of a deep, rumbling voice draws your attention to the bathroom connected to the room you’re currently in. “Oh, you’re finally awake,” Keishin says sheepishly as he emerges from the bathroom, then points to the nightstand next to you. “There’s some water and ibuprofen, you should take it. Even if you’re not sore now, you will be later.”

You chuckle tiredly as you stretch your overworked muscles. “I’m already sore, so I’ll definitely be taking these.”

He sits awkwardly on the side of the bed, unsure how to treat you after your little encounter. His brows are furrowed, a deep frown on he’s seemingly deep in thought.

“Whatever you’re thinking, just spit it out.” His head immediately snaps to you, eyes guarded and unreadable.

“What we did downstairs, it’s… not right. I’m supposed to protect young, impressionable girls like you. I’m a father—I would die if Tomi was after a man more than twice her age.”

You pull the blanket off of you and climb over to where the older man is seated on the mattress. “Keishin, let me ask you something.” He lifts his head, expectant. “Did you enjoy what we did? Because I did.” He nods slowly, still unsure what you’re getting at.

Taking his face in your hands, you tell him what you’ve been thinking for weeks. “At the end of the day, we’re two consenting adults who partook in consensual activities. Even if someone wants to clutch their pearls because you’re older than me, who cares?”

“Yeah, I get that, but… It has to be some sort of ethics violation on my part. You’re younger than my daughter, Bunny.”

“Even if it is, you have to allow yourself to live a little. Life is too short to deny yourself pleasures the world has to offer, and I don’t know about you, but I was very pleased by our… tryst.”

A cute blush spreads across Keishin’s cheeks as he remembers everything he said and did to you. “Aha, I was too. So, um… Would you want to do that again, sometime?” he asks, running a hand through his hair like he always does when he’s nervous.

You giggle and tackle him on the bed, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing. “Of course I do. We can even do it now, if you’d like…”

A couple hours later, just before Hitomi comes back, you limp across the hallway to your room and pass out, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

And that is how your little arrangement begins.

Most of your time is spent with Hitomi, mostly shopping and going out to eat when she has the day off, or just watching Netflix in her room when you’re both too tired to go anywhere.

However, in the wee hours of the morning when you’re sure that she’s asleep, you sneak up to her father’s bedroom and get fucked so hard and so good you can barely make it back to your bedroom before the sun rises.

It’s a good arrangement, you think, you both get what you want and your friend is none the wiser. You figure no harm, no foul. At the end of the winter break, Keishin will likely want to cut things off with you and you’ll go back to your college dorm as if nothing happened.

But the winter break isn’t over yet, and you plan on making the most of it.

Keishin has been fucking you into the mattress for so long, time no longer even makes sense anymore.

You’re sweaty and exhausted, muscles so sore and shaky, but the thrusting between your legs shows no signs of stopping anytime soon. The harsh grip on your hips will likely bruise, but luckily you can hide them, unlike the few close calls you’ve had with poorly-placed marks on your neck.

Despite your exhaustion, you continue to meet Keishin’s thrusts by humping your hips back at him.

He gives your ass a harsh spank and fucks into you harder, making you whine and clench around him. “You’re an insatiable little thing, aren’t you? So fucked out and dripping with my cum, yet you still want more,” he says, but all you can do is gasp in response. You’re too far gone to produce any meaningful response. “What am I going to do with you?” If you had the energy, you’d tell him whatever he wants, but you don’t and the familiar tug of an orgasm is too hard to ignore.

“Fuck Daddy, I-I’m—”

Suddenly, his phone comes to life, Hitomi’s face lighting up the screen as it vibrates. The pistoning of his hips slows, then stops completely as he reaches over and grabs it off the nightstand.

He suddenly pulls out of your sore, abused cunt and you almost whine at the loss before he buries himself back inside you. The way your face is pressed into the mattress makes it difficult, but you manage to turn your head to see what Keishin is doing behind you.

Your eyes widen and you try to wriggle out of his grip when you figure out that he’s going to answer his phone as he keeps fucking you.

A hand wraps around your neck, lifting you up from your position on the bed and you have to follow its movement to prevent your windpipe from getting crushed. You’re pressed against Keishin’s hard chest, and his cock is nestled right against your cervix. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll just stay still and take it like a good little girl.”

The harsh grip on your neck releases and you’re shoved back into the bed, falling onto the comforter.

Keishin sounds completely normal when he answers his phone and it almost pisses you off—how can he be so unaffected when you’re at your wit’s end?

He chirps into the phone, “Hey sweetheart, what’s up?” The only indication that anything is amiss is the slight breathlessness in his voice and the occasional curse under his breath.

He forces himself even deeper inside you so forcefully that you’re afraid he’ll punch straight through to your womb. You know it’s not possible, but with Keishin, it just might be. He’s always full of surprises, especially when it comes to your body.

“Oh yeah, sure I can drop it off to you later. I’m just a little… preoccupied at the moment,” he says with a sharp thrust of his hips and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips. Keishin stiffens above you, waiting to see if Hitomi heard you through the phone.

“No, Hitomi, I’m not watching porn! But hold on a second, I think someone is at the door.” He sets the phone on the bed, muting the call as his cock hits your g-spot and you’re shaking, practically shivering in his arms. A couple of hard, coordinated rubs of your engorged clit and you’re cumming, gushing around him and keening as your muscles clench uncomfortably. You scream silently and fall limp onto the bed, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum, but it’s to the point that each successive orgasm borders on the edge of pleasure and pain.

“Better keep quiet, wouldn’t want my daughter to hear you getting your pretty little cunt stuffed full of my cock,” Keishin snarls into your ear and you feel yourself clench painfully around him. Your body is just so worn out, but you know he won’t stop until he’s satisfied. “Or do you want her to know what a slut you are for her father?”

You shake your head vehemently, but the man inside you just chuckles as he keeps fucking you.

“Oh my god, oh fuck I-I…” You’re babbling nonsense to no one in particular.

“Ahh it was just-fuck, it was just some dude trying to sell me security cameras. Anyways, I’ll see you later honey, I love you.” His last few sentences sound rushed, urgent and you can tell from the twitching of his length that he’s close. The moment the phone is hung up, Keishin cages you between his body and the mattress. “Your cunt feels so fucking good, I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. Would you like that?”

You try to nod and make a noise akin to ‘mhm,’ but you’re not sure what it sounds like. You’re not really sure of anything right now, but what you are sure of is you want him to cum inside you.

“I could never deny you anything, sweet girl,” he groans.

Keishin fucks into you harder, faster, and it feels as if he’s quite literally rearranging your guts, he’s so deep inside you. He reaches down between your legs and pinches your sensitive bud between his fingers. “Think you have one more in you, hm?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for your answer. Of course you do.” He rubs your sore clit the way he knows will have you shaking and coming apart around him.

“Fuck Daddy, fuck I’m cumming!” you squeal, writhing and squirming from the painful, aching tightness of your orgasm as it builds once more.

“Ergh, fuck yeah, cum on Daddy’s cock as he fills you up. You’re such a good fucking girl for me, I love this sweet pussy.”

You shriek as you cum, your climax so strong that your vision blurs at the edges and you convulse, sore muscles twitching with overuse.

“Daddy’s gonna breed his sweet little girl, fuck, feels so fucking good!” Keishin groans, burying himself as deeply as he can inside you and shooting his cum into your quivering hole. You sigh in relief at the feeling of his warm cum flooding your womb, thankful he finally came because you couldn’t have lasted much longer in your state.

He flops next to you on the bed, sweaty and exhausted from your hours-long fuck marathon. Throwing an arm over your waist, he pulls you to his chest and buries his nose in your neck.

Hitomi’s not supposed to come back for several hours, so you both deem it safe to fall asleep as you are. Just when you’re about to drift off, your phone buzzes from the bedside table.

You reach for your phone, expecting it to be some spam email.

Your heart stops, the whole world seems to freeze when you open the text message.

From: Tomie <3

So when were you going to tell me you’re fucking my dad?

#haikyuu smut #ukai x reader #ukai smut #haikyuu x reader #ukai keishin #server collab #bunny scribbles #hq smut #hq fanfic #hq reader insert #haikyuu imagines

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andypantsx3 · 3 years

Text

statistically significant | 2 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

note: I cannot overemphasize that this interpretation of Bakugou is based on season 1 Bakugou, which means he behaves very questionably at the beginning. Please heed the warnings!

Present day

Miruko’s agency was large, much larger than you had expected.

From the street, it had looked unobtrusive enough, a moderately-sized office building with a modern-looking glass front. You could see into a large reception area on the ground floor, and open workspaces on the next few floors, conjoined desks piled high with paperwork and slightly wilted-looking office plants. If not for Miruko’s name emblazoned over the entry in bold, metallic letters, you could have taken it for just another office building.

Once inside, however, the building became much more than that. After checking in at reception, you were led deep into the building, and gestured into an elevator that took you tens of floors down. When the doors opened, they let out into a cavernous space, stretching under what must have been the entire block. The floor was equipped with a gym, several reinforced training spaces the size of office buildings themselves, and what appeared to be a surveillance room where footage from the training spaces could be replayed.

Your mouth dropped open. Did all hero agencies hide deep underground like this? How many other underground floors were there? How big was Miruko Agency, really?

Your guide had enough tact to ignore your inelegant expression, instead leading you towards a training room. A huge, clear window tens of meters across looked into the space, but you would bet anything that it was made of some material much stronger than glass, which was especially evidenced by what you could see going on beyond the window.

Rubble littered the room, scattered in towering piles that gave the appearance of a post-doomsday cityscape. You didn’t know if the room had been set up this way, or if the rubble was the result of the battle going on within; there were two heroes that you could see darting around the space, both appearing to be causing maximum chaos.

Closest to you, a woman with wild pink curls was emitting a powerful stream of some cement-colored substance that ate away at anything it touched, causing it to smoke and hiss and crumble. She melted a huge hole in a pile of rubble, and a man with a shock of golden-yellow hair leapt away from what had probably been his hiding place, backpedaling wildly.

You perked up when you realized who they were--Ashido Mina, the number twenty-nine hero Pinky, and Kaminari Denki, the number thirty-three hero Chargebolt.

Kaminari threw out a hand, and a crackling wave of lightning struck out at Ashido. The lights flickered out briefly, and even behind the window, you could feel your hair stand on end. You blinked past the powerful flash that had temporarily blinded you, casting about for Ashido who had surely been struck down, only to choke on a laugh when you caught sight of her flashing Kaminari the middle finger, sliding away from a huge chunk of rubble she’d dislodged with her acid to use as a shield.

“They’re idiots,” a voice intoned from your side.

You nearly jumped out of your skin, turning to find Miruko herself standing next to you, powerful arms crossed over her chest. Despite her words, a little fond-looking smile flickered at the edges of her mouth.

You schooled your slack jawed expression into a smile. “I don’t know--their personalities are mostly why they’re so popular, so they must be doing something right. I did a little digging into everyone’s results before I got here, and they stood out among a lot of the rest.”

Miruko’s gaze flicked over you. She was short, maybe even shorter than you, but her keen red eyes and very lethal-looking biceps more than made up for her stature. She was intimidating in person, an air about her that told you she could snap and turn on you at any second. Despite the fact that she had asked you here herself, you felt like she might seize you and bodily throw you out of her agency.

“And that’s why they’re idiots. Their results are buoyed by their personalities,” Miruko sniffed. “They need work.”

You prickled a little, feeling like you should say something in their defense, but the truth of it was, you were here to help them work on things.

Some weeks ago, Miruko had contacted the Public Safety Hero Commission with interest in the ranking model. Your version had been in production for close to a year, and you had recently been making scholarly noises about feedback loops, asking for permission to provide pro heroes with individual results breakdowns. Miruko had caught wind of this and demanded on site assessments for her “team of frigging clowns” as she had so eloquently put it. And so you had been loaned out, with the idea of helping to direct the training for the heroes at Miruko Agency, providing them a real time comparison of their training footage to the generic hero ranking model results.

If this trial run was successful, if you could help any of the heroes measurably jump ranks, then the Commission had committed to providing individualized results for the thousands of heroes employed today. The Commission had also expressed interest in your idea of creating and packaging smaller models that took less technical skill to operate, for heroes to use to direct their own training. They had even seemed receptive to giving you a small team of research scientists and software engineers to build such a product, so you would be looking at a pretty sick promotion, not to mention.

Miruko made her way over to the surveillance room, beckoning you after her, and you watched as she leaned over a desk, pressing down a button with one gloved finger.

A crackling sound echoed overhead and her voice followed. “Alright, brats, recess is over. Anyone not heading out on patrol, meet in the surveillance room now.”

The flickering light from Kaminari’s lightning fizzled out, and the door to the training room opened not long after, Kaminari and Ashido spilling out in a chaotic whirlwind of limbs and petty squabbling. They were the first to arrive at the surveillance room, and Kaminari visibility perked up when he saw you.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, interrupting himself on a gasp when Ashido’s elbow caught him in the ribs. “What the fuck, Mina--! Why are your elbows so sharp? Can you just not--?” He grabbed her elbow. “Stop, look, it’s stats girl! From the Awards!”

You startled a little, shocked that he had remembered you. That had been almost a year ago, and you’d only exchanged a couple quick comments in the stairwell.

Ashido looked up from where she appeared to be attempting to crack one of his ribs, her expression shifting into something altogether too interested. You flushed when a sharp grin broke out over her pretty features.

“Oh my god, you’re stats girl? I have been waiting forever. It’s an absolute honor to meet you.” She held out a palm, waggling her rosy fingers expectantly.

A rising sense of horror grew within you. Did...did Kaminari remember you so clearly because he’d told people about the incident? What exactly had he mentioned to her? Who else had he spread the tale to?

“Um, yeah that’s me,” you managed, trying to tamp down your embarrassment.

Ashido grinned wider, leaning forward. “I was totally convinced Denki and Eijirou made you up, except that Katsuki wouldn’t stop plotting revenge out loud for months. You’re, like, a legend. Do you do autographs?”

You gaped at her, your mind sticking on the phrase Katsuki wouldn’t stop plotting revenge out loud for months. A nervous, hunted energy crept over you. Revenge...for months.

Miruko’s rabbit ears twitched and she turned to you, frowning. “I wasn’t aware you’d already met some of my circus monkeys. Is this going to be a problem?”

You dithered nervously, not actually sure if it would be. You’d known Bakugou worked at her agency, considering you had done a fair amount of pre-work collecting everyone's results. But you’d honestly put off thinking about this. Bakugou had been in quite the rage at the Hero Awards, but that had been almost a year ago. And Ashido had phrased his revenge plans in the past tense… Surely he didn’t still hold as much of a grudge now?

Miruko eyed you suspiciously for a moment, but she was distracted when the scuffle of boots indicated the approach of other heroes, and a pair of burly men with curling satyr horns rounded the corner, one of them leaning forward to speak to her. Ashido sent you a wink when Miruko turned her back, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like later.

In the next few minutes, a small group of heroes assembled, ranging from relatively well-known heroes like Ashido and Kaminari, to a couple of heroes who ranked deep in the hundreds--you only knew some of their faces because Miruko had provided you with a list of her employees for preparatory research purposes. They formed a small crescent around the surveillance area, chattering lowly to themselves and eyeing you with speculative curiosity.

To your eternal relief, her most famously explosive employee was conspicuously absent, and you felt yourself relax when it seemed like everyone had turned up who was going to.

When it seemed like the crowd size was finally large enough to please her, Miruko barked a loud “SHUT UP” at them. The din of low voices instantly died down.

“Alright brats. Over the next few months, Y/N will be working here at the agency with us. She has been invited on behalf of the commission, and will be analyzing your quirks, your methods, and your recent work,” Miruko said. “She has individualized results pulled from the current hero rankings that can inform you how to improve. I expect you to take full advantage of this opportunity.”

She gestured to you, giving you a meaningful look as if she expected you to introduce yourself. You gave a little wave, glancing at the heroes around you.

“Um, hi,” you said. “As Miruko-san said, I can give you a little advice based on your current results breakdown. I also plan to analyze video of your training in the coming weeks, and build parallel models to simulate future results given your performance. We can compare those to the current rankings for an idea of how much work you will have to put into particular skills for you to move up in the ranks.”

A small murmur went through the crowd at the prospect of moving up in the ranks. Some gazes sharpened in interest.

You continued, “This is also a good chance to work on specific growth areas -- I can train smaller models on subsets of videos so you can compare your skills more directly with each other or with other heroes from other agencies. Please let me know if there is anything special any of you would like to focus on.”

Miruko stepped back in front of you. “Y/N is going to set up in the surveillance room for the next few weeks. I’ve already established checkpoints for all of you to meet with her, but I encourage you to meet with her more often if you can.”

There were a couple of nods, and a few interested whispers from somewhere at the back of the crowd. Miruko took a breath like she was going to say more, but then--

“Hard pass,” a voice growled from your left. Your hackles instantly raised, and it took your brain a couple seconds to catch up with your instincts. You whipped around wildly when you realized you knew that voice, and you almost jumped a full foot in the air when you caught sight of those familiar blonde spikes over another hero’s shoulder.

You hadn’t noticed his approach, but Bakugou had clearly returned from a fight only minutes ago. His hair drooped a little with sweat, there was dirt streaking the points of his high cheekbones, and his costume was shredded by a thousand tiny tears, like he’d been thrown through a glass window. And...was that blood on his gauntlets? Was it his?

You were torn between immediate annoyance and something like concern at the sight of him so obviously roughed up.

“The meetings are not optional,” Miruko’s voice took on a hard edge.

“I already know what this fucking nerd has to say,” Bakugou drawled dismissively. “And I don’t give a shit. I don’t need assists if I’m the one busy saving the fucking day.”

Your mood edged cleanly into annoyance. It seemed he hadn’t changed any, then.

Miruko’s face darkened. “It wasn’t a suggestion.”

Bakugou bared his teeth. They gleamed almost blindingly white against the dark dirt on his face. “No.”

A wild look entered Miruko’s eye at the challenge. “Everyone is dismissed. Except Katsuki,” she uttered in a low, dangerous tone.

There was a small pause. The heroes around you looked at her askance, and her features darkened even further. “I said scram. NOW!”

The effect was immediate. It felt like no sooner had you blinked than the hall was suddenly clear. The sight of Kaminari and Ashido wheeling around the corner was all the proof you had that the team hadn’t suddenly vanished from existence.

Bakugou snorted and propped himself lazily against a column, affecting a slouch, one pale eyebrow raised over his insouciant expression. It looked almost too perfectly arrogant, and you wondered if he practiced it in the mirror sometimes.

“I said the meetings are not optional, Katsuki,” Miruko hissed, taking a step closer to him. “You can ignore her suggestions all you want, but you will attend them.”

Close as they were, you could see she was almost a full head shorter than him, but the force of her anger seemed to make her larger somehow--she wasn’t towering over him, but she was certainly terrifying. Towering under, your mind supplied unhelpfully.

Bakugou, for his part, held his ground. His mouth curled disdainfully. “What’s the fucking point? The nerd’s just gonna tell me stupid shit. And I’m not going to listen.”

Your fingers twitched in irritation. Data wasn’t stupid shit -- it was mathmatical fact, almost as divorced from human bias as it was possible to be. How was it humanly possible that he hadn’t learned anything or grown even the littlest bit? How was it possible that he was just as infuriating as he was a year ago?

But fine. He could have things his way if that’s what he wanted.

Miruko’s face twisted in a scowl, and she took a deep breath like she was ready to start yelling. But you got there first.

“He has a point,” you said, giving him a hard look over the top of Miruko’s head. “I would hate to waste my time on someone who’s been stalled in the rankings for a year now. He wouldn’t know how to implement my advice even if I were to give it.”

You paused, letting an uncharacteristic smirk curl your mouth, trying your best to channel his disdainful energy. “Isn’t that right, Number Eight?”

Bakugou’s gaze sharpened over Miruko’s silver hair, twin pinpricks of red narrowing in on you. He abandoned his slouch, his body tensing like a hound that smelled blood. “What did you just say?”

You pushed down the petty satisfaction that rose within you at his reaction. He was so fucking prideful, so easy to bait.

“Hmm, cognitive delays,” you said, pretending to tap your chin thoughtfully. “Very worrying. Further evidence he wouldn’t be able to process the information, though. No, I think it’s best if we don’t meet.”

Bakugou pushed himself off the column, edging around Miruko as his mouth drew into a snarl. You were immediately reminded of the Hero Awards, that same overwhelming prickle of power edging over you as he stalked closer, the same scent like caramel and gunpowder.

Miruko’s eyes flicked between the two of you curiously, an eyebrow raised in interest. You hoped it meant she was interested enough in your data analysis to intervene if Bakugou tried to sauté you like an onion.

“If you melt through this blazer I really will sabotage the hero rankings and dip you all the way to number five hundred,” you threatened, edging away from Bakugou as he drew closer. “And also you owe me money for that dress.”

“I’m not gonna fucking give you shit,” he announced, looming over you when he’d decided he was close enough to intimidate. He was near enough that you could feel the heat of him, but he hadn’t put his hands to you yet. It seemed Miruko was enough of a deterrent to curb his bad behavior. “And I’m not gonna meet with you.”

“Good, then we agree,” you said, tipping your head back to look him in the eye. “You’re not good enough to do better anyways.”

Bakugou growled, the phrase clearly still enough to tick him off a year later. “Fuck you, I’m the best.”

“That’s not what your ranking tells me,” you clicked your tongue, feigning disinterest. With the dirt and scratches all over him he looked wilder than ever and you would be a fool to ignore it, but Miruko’s presence made you bold. And something else, some latent streak of frustration and pettiness told you to keep going, to keep pressing the buttons that were getting this reaction from him.

“Your ranking tells me you haven’t even improved the tiniest bit in an entire year. At this rate, you’ll never even hit the top three, never mind be the best. I don’t think you could improve even if you wanted to,” you said.

Bakugou looked like he wanted nothing more than to tear your head off with his teeth. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

You opened your mouth to reply but there was a sudden motion at the edge of your vision, something pink and blurry and wild. You glanced past Bakugou’s shoulder to find Ashido leaning around the wall, waving a hand frantically and mouthing something at you. You squinted, watching her lips shape themselves carefully: make a bet.

What? Make a bet?

She wanted you to make a bet?

You looked back up at Bakugou, taking in the oppositional expression, the angry curl of his mouth, the straight slope of his nose, and those keen, blood red eyes glaring down at you. This was certainly the face of a man who wouldn’t be told what to do, who couldn’t be told what to do.

But despite your words and your inherent distaste, there was no denying he was actually your best shot, the cleanest pathway to your promotion. Bakugou was smart, driven, and absolutely lethal. If anyone could turn around a rank at top speed it was him.

But he couldn’t be made to do it. He had to want to do it.

Ashido waved in the corner of your vision again, enunciating with exaggerated facial expressions. Make a bet.

Things clicked into place.

“Hmm, I wouldn’t be so sure,” you looked away from Ashido, inspecting your nails casually, like your focus would rather be anywhere than on this conversation. “In fact, I would bet almost anything that you wouldn’t know how to implement my suggestions, even if you tried.”

Bakugou froze, red eyes passing over you curiously. For one heart stopping moment, you thought he was on to you, but he just leaned down instead, putting his face close to yours.

“I’ll fucking take that bet.”

You tried to push down your sudden swell of excitement, fighting to keep your expression neutral. You knew he wouldn’t cooperate if he thought you were happy about this.

“Fine. You have two months to jump a rank,” you said. “Or I win. And you’ll pay me what you owe me for the dress.”

Bakugou smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. This had the effect of emphasizing both the tears in his shirt and the swell of his biceps.You quickly attached your eyes firmly to his face--that was so not what you needed to be focused on right now.

“I’ll do it in one,” he said. “And then I win, you smug fucking nerd.”

You gazed at him steadily. “Agreed. Miruko’s number seven--you think you can beat your own boss with just a month of work? You’ll never.”

“You haven’t heard what I win yet,” he said.

You stared at him, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “You go up in rank. That’s what you win.”

Bakugou’s handsome face shifted into an uneven smirk. “Oh no. This is twice now you’ve opened your little know-it-all mouth and acted like you know what the fuck you’re talking about. When I win, you’ll tell me I’m the best and I was right all along.”

You suppressed an eye roll. If he moved up a rank, the point would very obviously be that you were right all along. Was he really so unreasonably competitive and spiteful that he needed to be told he was right?

Then you remembered he’d quite literally dragged you into a stairwell and implied he'd fry you to a crisp when he found out he was number eight. Of course he was.

Well, a few throwaway words were worth nothing compared to the promotion you’d be getting. He could have his sense of self satisfaction when you were knee deep in software engineers and fat stacks of money.

You took a deep breath, holding out a hand. “Okay. If you win, which is a very big if, then I’ll admit it. Deal?”

Bakugou considered you for a long moment, red eyes watching you closely, before a calloused hand engulfed yours. “Deal," he growled, a crooked grin flickering at the edge of his mouth. "Get ready to eat shit, nerd.”

You suppressed another eye roll, hoping to god this was going to be worth it.

This was going to be the longest month of your life.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia #bnha #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #tw threats #tw gendered violence

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lady-literature · 4 years

Text

ayy, so ya’ll know that Miraculous/DC crossover I screamed about a while back? I found plot for it.

It is not quite finished yet, but it’s also so much longer than I originally planned on it being. (me: I’ll just write a fun little thing to get this out of my head!

me, 13k words later: oh no)

SO! Here’s a little sneak peak!

(or, find the finished product here!)

***

There is an unspoken rule, kept by any outsider who’s ever set foot in Gotham, that you should only ever visit the city once. Most find that visiting even once was already too much.

The most dangerous city on earth isn’t kind to its residents—much less strangers who don’t know how to watch their pockets or keep off the streets after dark. It’s gotten better, perhaps, in recent years since the Bat started lurking on rooftops, but that doesn’t mean the city is good.

Normal people stay as far from Gotham as they can get.

Marinette, (un)luckily, is far from normal.

***

The touring of Metropolis, New York City, and Gotham had been going well as far as Marinette was concerned, no matter what Chloé says to her about carelessness and naivety.

She’s glad her, Adrien and Chloé all decided to take this summer trip before they started University in the fall. It sucks that it was just the three of them, she wishes more of their friends could’ve tagged along but, alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

Kagami was in the middle of training season and couldn’t come. Luka was touring with his father, learning the tricks of the trade and other things. Nathaniel had already been commissioned to paint a mural downtown before they really finalized dates. Nino was in much the same boat as Nath, just with music and pitch meetings. Felix hated traveling and Alix was doing… something. Time travelling, probably. Or at least spending more time in the burrow.

Marinette was certainly starting to notice the way she’s begun talking about ancient history like she was actually there when she goes on rants now. Felix also probably noticed but Marinette’s also sure that he’s aiding and abetting her in exchange for insider information so…

She’ll probably have to deal with that later, unfortunately. But not today.

Their tour group was going to Amusement Mile later that afternoon, but had been given free roam until then. Marinette decided to spend the time up until lunch at the park near the meetup spot in Gotham Square and Chloé hadn’t complained or vetoed that idea so the trio happily camped out on the grass.

Marinette had returned to her sketch of Lady Gotham in between eating bites of her sandwich. She thinks she much preferred the style of it to New York City’s Lady Liberty. There was just something about the Statue of Justice that inspired her.

She’d been doodling about it since they left the marina yesterday. She also had plenty of pictures of the statue for inspiration later. There’s one she especially likes and thinks she might even print out to put up on her wall at home.

She’s playing with the idea of draping fabrics for formal wear designs like the roman togas both Lady statues seem to wear when a tennis ball rolls up and bumps into her leg. She has only enough time to move her sketchbook out of the way before a large dog bowls into her, tail wagging happily and barking up a storm.

“Oof!”

Adrien’s already halfway up the tree, startled out of his light doze by the barking and Chloé only daintily moved away from Marinette, leaving her to her fate.

Pushing herself back up so she’s not crushed by what feels like one hundred pounds of dog, she comes face to snout with quite possibly the biggest dog she’s ever seen. From there, there was really only one choice of action Marinette could have followed.

“Oh! Well, aren’t you just the prettiest boy?” she tells the dog happily, reaching up to give him scratches. “Such a big boy! You nearly bowled me over, didn’t you?”

If it’s possible, the dog’s tail begins to wag even faster, enough that he accidentally overbalances himself and decides to roll with it, flopping onto his back and letting her rub his stomach. Marinette does so enthusiastically, her baby-talk to the dog devolving into broken not-words and the occasional exclamation of good boy! in both English and French.

The dog was a great dane, and had the softest coat of black fur she’s ever seen. There was a thick red collar around his throat, and Marinette stopped furiously rubbing his belly long enough to look at the silver tag attached to it.

“Titus, huh?” she says to the dog. “Such a strong name for such a distinguished boy, huh?”

“Oh god,” she hears Adrien groan from his spot still up in the tree. When she looks up, she finds him eyeing Titus with distrust, the absolute kitten. “I hope whoever his owner is, they’ve never read Shakespeare.”

Both her and Chloé blink at the strange non sequitur.

“Uh, why? Exactly?”

“Because they have shit taste in his plays if they do! Titus Andronicus is, like, Shakespeare’s worst play.”

Chloé glares up at him. “You’re such a nerd. Now stop being ridiculous and get down from there.”

“But, Chloé! It’s a dog.”

“Adrien Agreste!”

Marinette tunes out the two blondes as they devolve into sibling-like bickering. It’s a skill she’s had to learn and learn quickly with living in such close quarters with the pair for the last few weeks and also being friends with the pair for the past three years.

“Speaking of your owner, I wonder where they are?” She scratches under Titus’ chin thoughtfully. “Should we go look for them?”

Titus' head flops to the side, almost like he’s listening for something, before he’s clambering up onto his feet to tower over her. He’s almost twice as tall as she is sitting, which is just ridiculous. Why is everything in America so big?

Getting to her feet herself, Titus still stands almost as tall as her. She can rest her elbow on his back when she grabs his collar to make sure he doesn’t run off. He leads mostly, pulling her along at a steady trot she has to jog to keep up with.

He truly was such a well behaved dog and certainly lived up to his breed’s reputation as a gentle giant.

Or at least she thought so, until the call of “Titus! Here!” echoes through the park and he goes racing off towards it, dragging Marinette along for the ride no matter how much she tries to slow down.

Titus comes to a skidding stop, and Marinette barely stops herself from falling by keeping her arm around Titus.

“And who are you?”

Looking up, she finds a young man, probably around her age, staring down at her. He does not look happy—but most Gothamites don’t, Marinette’s found. He’s also, despite the almost glare he’s giving her, very attractive.

When she opens her mouth, incoherent French comes tumbling out, much to her embarrassment.

Ah. ‘Not being able to speak coherently to people she finds attractive’, she had wondered where that particular personality trait had been as of late. Even after so many years hanging around people who should be—and are—super models, she still acts like a spaz. Why is she like this?

The man raises an eyebrow at her, looking very unamused.

She tries again. “Ah- Je suis- I mean, I am very sorry. Your dog found me sitting over there with my friends and I figured I should find his owner instead of letting him just wander around and I assume your his owner because if you aren’t this is very embarrassing for me. Not that it wasn’t embarrassing before but, oh, I’m definitely rambling and I’m going to shut up now.”

Pressing her lips together as tightly as humanly possible so her tongue will stop making horrible life decisions, she holds Titus’ bright yellow tennis ball out to his owner.

The man huffs, taking the ball from her hand. “I didn’t ask for your life’s story.”

Marinette blinks and then frowns. Her hand tightens around where she’s still holding onto Titus’ collar and she has to very carefully unclench her hand before she breaks it or something.

“I didn’t give it,” she says through clenched teeth, embarrassment abruptly forgotten. There’s no need for the man to be rude.

He scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me.”

She doesn't really have anything to say to that. Instead, she turns to Titus, who’s sitting like the good boy he is. She very seriously leans down to eye level—she does not have to lean down far—and tells him, “Your owner is an ass. But you are still a very good boy.”

She plants a kiss to his forehead that makes his tail wag, gives him one last scratch behind the ears and walks back towards her friends without looking back at the rude man.

***

Colonel Bug: so I met kagami and felix’s lovechild today

MY HONOR: I would never stoop so low.

the evil twin: I would never stoop so low.

ShutUpTurtleMan: Nettie

dearest

the evil twin: Okay first of all-

ShutUpTurtleMan: sunshine

light of our collective lives and reason I breathe

what the fuCK

YoureUnderAgreste: Kagami, my love, how could you?

The Betrayal™

GottaGoFast: ew

Queen of Salt: ew

sneaky snake: Send pics or it didn’t happen

give me art or give me death: [a photo of the ‘right in front of my salad?’ meme]

Queen of Salt: wait

I was with you all day when did this happen?

was it the owner of the dog that attacked you?

ShutUpTurtleMan: WHAT

Colonel Bug: he didn’t attack me!

chloe stop spreading misinformation!

titus was a sweetheart!

YoureUnderAgreste: incorrect

he was, in fact, a menace

give me art or give me death: wait was Titus the dog or the lovechild

ShutUpTurtleMan: ^^^ ?

Colonel Bug: shut up adrien

all animals are great

stop being elitist

give me art or give me death: okay but seriously what kind of dog was it

the evil twin: why exactly was he our lovechild?

GottaGoFast: because of the dramatic tryst you and Kagami had obviously

keep up

Colonel Bug: because he was as pretty as he was rude actually

And gave me the feeling that he’d rant about his honor and parentage if it given the chance

MY HONOR: you say something once as an unsocialized teen

GottaGoFast: MARI YOU DOG!

ARE GETTING TAIL IN GOTHAM OF ALL PLACES?

Colonel Bug: no alix

did you not read the part about how rude he is

YoureUnderAgreste: i mean,,,,,

Felix is pretty rude and we all still like him

ShutUpTurtleMan: and Chloe

YoureUnderAgreste: oh good point nino

Colonel Bug: i hate it here

i spoke to him for like 2 seconds

Queen of Salt: Okay first of all-

YoureUnderAgreste: so i mean it’s not really a dealbreaker yaknow?

Colonel Bug: this familys a nightmare

i shoulda left you all on the street corner where i found you

YoureUnderAgreste: BUT CHA DINDT

ShutUpTurtleMan: but yA DIDNT

GottaGoFast: BUT CHA DIDNT!!

sneaky snake: but ya didn’t

***

I have every no regrets. stay tuned for more!

#my typewriter #miraculous ladybug #batfam #maribat #daminette #mlb #dc #mlb x dc

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elias-veturius-laia-of-serra · 3 years

Text

Why Elias And Laia Mean So Much To Me

Okay so I’ve been wanting to write this for a while but knew it would be long and that I’d need some time to get my thoughts in order. So without a further ado here is my attempt:

Why is Elaia so important to me. Well to start off, Laia Of Serra in particular is very important and inspirational to me. She is not only a brown girl who is a hero but she is the most realistic hero I’ve ever had the honor of meeting. I’m so used to white female main characters that are badass warriors who are smart, beautiful, strong, special, that everyone is attracted to, and who fight for their people. I grew up on books like that. In which don’t get me wrong I still greatly enjoyed those stories and some of them are still my favorite to this day.

However I could never relate to those characters and it really solidified the belief that I most likely could never be a hero cause I could never fit that mold. And for the longest time I thought I was okay with that and I never really understood how much physical and emotional representation could mean to me until, Laia Of Serra.

Laia is a brown girl that is afraid, insecure, oppressed, sheltered, poor, weak, with no fighting experience, kind, emotional, girly, and self deprecating. She’s scared and second guesses herself all the time. It’s hard for her to phantom that she’s good enough to make the right choices or save anyone or anything. Which is exactly what I struggle with on the daily let alone in the middle of a war. I first read aeita when I was 17, the same age as Laia. So meeting a heroine that made mistakes, berated herself, cracked under pressure, had no clue what she was doing, let herself cry, understood that in a place filled with skilled deathly warriors she was weak, and let people trample over her. It was so relatable and heart wrenching. Especially when I’ve been wired to think girls like her are useless and typically the first to die or used as a stepping stool for the real hero.

Seeing her continue to fight with what she can and however she can made my heart soar. There were so many times she wanted to give up and feared death. However in time she grew and instead of fearing death she embraced the possibility of it in order to fight for what is right and for the people she loved. She stayed true to herself and became a badass without the need of having to kill people. Laia detested killing people especially after having to see how her people got killed all the time. She’s filled with understanding, love, forgiveness, sensitivity, kindness, and determination. No matter how many times she got knocked down she kept getting back up.

She gave and still gives me hope. Hope for who I am today and who I can grow into the future. She’s a symbol that you can be strong in other ways. That physical strength isn’t the only way to be a hero. Her bravery to face things head on, her compassion towards everyone, her determination to reach her goal, and her heart always willing to accept others is what makes her a hero. Even when it came to the final battle. It wasn’t her powers or weapons that got her to win the war. It was her kindness and understanding and love.

I understand people are disappointed that she wasn’t as “brutal” or stabby as other heroines. I love stabby women as well! But I think her depiction of strength and heroism is so important. It really shines a light on the meek and shy and scared and shows that it’s okay to feel like that. How that doesn’t automatically make you weak and how you can be just as important in the world.

I also love that Laia isn’t reduced or or shown as “not like other girls”. Laia loves to dress up, she likes to look pretty, she does think about boys, she is bossy, she is emotional, often has break downs, and she’s just so human. I find that a lot of the most badass heroines are always the ones that don’t like dressing up and finds it a waste of time, doesn’t fit in with other women, is stoic, cold, good with swords but not with words, and violent. Im not saying that these characters shouldn’t be allowed, but I feel like it reinforces the idea that the normal things a woman feels or behaves is considered weak. Not saying that all women are emotional, but we do feel. We do stress and some of us do love to put on make up and dresses. That shouldn’t be demonized or looked down upon.

That’s why I adore Laia. She’s a normal teenage girl that IS like most girls. And she gets praise and stronger because of it. Also people need to realize that at the start of the series Laia is a 17 year old girl with zero survival training skills. Elias and Helene have been training since they were literal children. Their whole lives revolves around fighting. Laia’s didn’t. So it makes sense and is realistic why she isn’t as “strong” or “skilled” as them.

To expect her to be at their level within the three year timeline between these books is impossible. I feel like people are so used to heroines that know how to fight or learn to become the most badass fighter through mere chapter montages that seeing a realistic depiction of a teenage girl that’s never fought in her life is displeasing. But I love that about her. She always becomes stronger in spirit, braver at heart, but at her core she is still Laia. A teenage girl trying her best.

Her needing help or needing a team to fulfill her goals shouldn’t be looked down on. It’s shown through even real history some of the best fighters or leaders needed a team. Needed support, right hand man, etc. Which is why I feel so connected to her and wish she wasn’t so underrated or looked down upon. Cause I feel like she’s a voice for girls like us that so desperately needed a way to be heard. She’s someone I can look up to and remember and find comfort in when times get stressful or dark.

Now as for why Elias and Laia’s relationship mean a lot to me. It’s simple. They’re a healthy brown couple and I love finally seeing a girl that looks and acts like me get praise and love. I love that Elias sees her strength and admires her for who she is. And how he actually finds comfort in a person like her. How he views her at times even stronger than him and everyone else.

Girls/characters like Laia are always reduced to a side character, the best friend, the second choice for the love interest, the death that motivates the main character, and or the character that pops in and out to give moral support. However under Elias’s eyes she IS the main character. She IS the only girl for him. He loves everything about her and was the first to believe she’s strong. He chooses her above all. Above anything and anyone else.

As a brown girl as shallow or dumb as it may sound it really does feel touching to see us described as not only just strong and desirable but loved and wanted by the warrior. The main love interest. That in his eyes this brown girl that others deem as weak, useless, boring, and a waste of time. To him she is everything. She is brave, smart, powerful, beautiful, admirable, and perfect. It means the world to me. Especially with how characters like her especially in fantasy is seen as never good enough or tossed aside.

I also love that Elias shows the struggles on what it means to be “strong”. How a lot of learning to be the best fighter happened through a lot of trauma, shame, and guilt. He does show how physical strength isn’t the only way to be strong. Which is why Laia is his balance. She is the peace and freedom he yearns for while Elias is the strength, power, and love she’s always yearned for. Where she falls in believing herself he is always the first to count his vote on her. They compliment each other perfectly. Countermelodies. True loves.

They show me a healthy version of love. One of the purest and sweetest kinds of love. Elias is always soft, kind, and patient with her. He’s proud of her even if she feels like it’s undeserved. She sees the good in him even if he feels like he’s a monster. They see each other for who they are and love that about each other. They love each other so much and I’d never seen two characters be as in love as these two are. They are utterly devoted to each other and constantly fought for their way back to each other. It’s been five years and rereading their scenes still makes me smile and feel butterflies, like it’s the first time all over again.

Even now seeing any content of them is like a shot of straight up serotonin. They are my comfort ship. Despite the stress these past five years of being with them and shipping them has brought me. They also bring me great happiness and excitement and I wish I never had to say goodbye.

Though here’s to hoping that maybe we can have an Elaia novella, at the least, in the future 👀🤞

♥️♥️♥️ Elaia Forever ♥️♥️♥️

#an ember in the ashes #a torch against the night #a reaper at the gates #a sky beyond the storm #aeita #atatn #aratg #asbts #sabaa Tahir #laia of serra #Elias Veturius #Elias x laia #elaia #otp #Elias laia #emberling #ember quartet

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dragonsareourfuture · 3 years

Text

Light Yagami/GN! L’s Sibling!Reader — Protector

⚠️Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, manipulation, reader experiences grief, major character death, open ending.

requested by @darkrose33 ! sorry this took so long, I mostly finished writing it and then changed ideas halfway through, so I rewrote it all lol. I could not think of a way that the dynamic and story line that was requested could work in the context of a healthy relationship, so this isn't exactly a happy or romantic oneshot. I wanted to make this as realistic to Light's motivations and character as I could. I apologize if this isn’t what you wanted but you can always request something else if you would like :)

For as long as you can remember, your big brother was the person you looked up to the most. He was the brains, the one who had no trouble with the academics but every ounce of trouble with the social aspect of life. He wasn’t one to care what people thought about him socially, which in turn allowed him to behave however he wanted. He was an expert at leaving a room silent and stunned with just his words because of his lack of filter, telling only the brutal, honest truth when necessary. You couldn’t help but admire L Lawliet more than anything else in the world.

And because you held such admiration for the boy, you appointed yourself to be the role of his protector. Some kid called him a weirdo behind his back? Not to worry, with a little persuasion you can get them to apologize. He’s feeling overworked and you overhear one of the adults talking about a pile of paperwork they are about to drop off to L’s room? Huh, it seems that paperwork somehow ended up in the fireplace, nothing but a pile of ashes left of it. How strange. However you could protect him, you took on that challenge, even if it was simply being in the same room as him for emotional support. If you knew he needed to consume at least one vegetable that week, you were there to deliver, even if you had to hide it in a piece of cake. Whatever you could do, you did. Some told you that was what made you two so interesting – he was the brains, and you were the brawn, but you both needed each other to balance out. Like Yin and Yang.

So imagine your despair when, quite suddenly, L didn’t need you anymore. He was solving more cases, gaining in fame as the world’s greatest detective in his mere teenage years. He would, undoubtedly, need more protection than little ol’ you could provide once professional criminals found the desire to seek him out and kill him. And of course you wanted him to be safe, wanted him to thrive in the occupation that he excelled at, but…you missed your big brother with all of your heart. Not a day went by that you didn’t wish you could bring L his lunch or defend his honor out in the kickball field when some kid wouldn’t shut their big fat mouth. You missed those days.

You heard about the Kira case and how it was kicking everyone on the task force’s ass, including L’s. It only made you wish you could be there more. You kept up on the news, though. It was just about the only thing you could do. You tried to distract yourself with your own studies, but it was difficult to even try when you knew you could never in your wildest imagination come close to rising above your big brother.

You kept reminding yourself that you were grown now. You were fully capable of making a life for yourself that didn’t involve L – that didn’t include worrying about him every few moments. So you worked however pointless it may have seemed. You cooked, you did chores, even started taking up odd jobs to complete during the little free time you would have spent sleeping if you weren’t prone to dreams about the danger L could be in. Every moment in life was spent trying not to worry…only for you to realize that you had every right to worry all along.

The news itself was not particularly surprising. L and every single one of his runners up had to write out their will in advance – about a decade early. Death was to be expected in that line of work.

You had since moved out of Wammy’s house officially, but always stuck around to do the gardening, occasionally the cooking as well. Also the cleaning…you were basically the Wammy house maid, but you were grateful for the distractions.

When the news came, you were in the middle of planting a batch of bulbs you had bought at the store the previous day – white lilies. You had nearly passed them by in favor of a more colorful flower, but when your eyes caught the lack of pigment of the fully grown lily on the packaging, you couldn’t help but be reminded of your big brother’s pale as bone skin. You had chuckled at the memory, blinked away a few rising tears, and plucked the bulbs from the shelf. Now, with about half of the bulbs buried under the soil and half waiting to be planted, you listened to Roger’s words grow increasingly louder the closer he came to where you sat crouched in the dirt. You wished you hadn’t listened, though. For he only brought you sorrow.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe Roger when he had come to tell you of your brother’s passing, it was simply that it was near impossible for you to imagine a world without the eccentric boy you’d grown up alongside. Sure, you’d been separated for some time now, but you’d grown used to knowing that even if he wasn’t with you, he was still somewhere fighting for the justice he believed in. To be told that he suddenly wasn’t in this world anymore…? You had to see it for yourself. So, despite Roger’s warnings, you ran inside and booked a flight to Japan as soon as you could. In your blind panic, you must have trampled the remaining bulbs you had yet to give life to.

…

The flight was stressful, the landing equally so. The drive to the task force building – torture. By the time you made it out of the car and through the doors of the task force building, you swore your throat was closing up. A glass of water was offered to you and, gratefully accepting the offer, you glugged the water down in a matter of seconds before someone else was offering you a seat.

You sat, pulling your legs up and curling them in. The chair was then pushed into place at a table and the man who offered it to you…placed a hand on your shoulder…?

You jolted, the empty cup in your hands almost toppling out of your grip.

“I’m sorry…! I should have asked first. My apologies…and my condolences.”

He appeared younger than everyone else around you. Young enough to be just about your age. His apologetic smile shone down on you like a beacon of light in the dark and dreary times you had seemingly been trapped in for so long. After that thought, you had stared in disbelief when he told you his name. Light. Fitting, you thought.

Light placed a hand onto the chair next to you, looking at you as if for permission. You nodded vaguely, hoping to convey your silent gratitude for him being so considerate. It wasn’t as if no one else had been this kind to you since hearing about the news, it was more so that you got the sense Light actually cared rather than simply spouting out the usual ‘I’m sorry’s you’re supposed to when someone experiences a loss. His words were not empty; they were full of life and intent. What that intent was, you didn’t know, but you wanted to keep feeling it over the usual hollow atmosphere you and your brother grew up in. So, before you knew it, you were spending hours at a time talking with Light Yagami, the very man who would be taking over the Kira case since your brother’s death.

It was indeed shocking to you how someone so young, even young in comparison to L, could lead an entire investigation. Granted, he had the rest of the task force by his side, but after only one day of observing their dynamic, you could feel the disconnection between them. Light was multiple steps ahead of them; there was no question about it. At times you got the sense he was keeping things from them. But, then again, you were almost certain L had done the same thing while he was leading them. It was difficult to blame someone so intelligent when they wanted to save time and not explain to everyone what their plan is, but lead them all like sheep. It would be faster that way, easier too.

With that final thought, the pedestal you were putting Light on became visible to you. But it couldn’t be a bad thing. It was normal for you to look up to your brother, yes? With Light, it was a different sensation altogether, but the same idea. You admired him, and you couldn’t see the harm in that when he was rubbing your back in comforting circles as you cried, talking to you and telling stories when you wanted to focus on something else. He was helping you, and because he wanted to, no less.

…

It was a strange sensation to wake up and have everyone you know suddenly become cautious around you, treating you like glass that would break if they said the wrong thing. After just a few minutes of this, you knew exactly what day it was. It somewhat startled you, your brother’s funeral being so soon. You wondered if the date had been pushed up, but no. You had simply been…distracted. In a good way, that is. When you first arrived in Japan, you thought that nothing but dread would accompany your visit. You had no clue how you would make it through the couple of days leading up to the funeral, how you would occupy your time. Sightseeing felt disrespectful. Besides, how could you appreciate fine architecture or lush greenery with such a weight in your heart, spreading throughout your body like a disease? What you hadn’t expected was to find someone who seemingly made everything more bearable. Someone who made the days pass faster.

This special someone helped you into your outfit – all black, casual yet put together. Light was gentle with you that day. Not skittish or cautious like the others were, but soft and loving. He would touch you, hands on your shoulders and a brush of his fingers through your hair every now and then, but it would be feather light and comforting all the same. He knew exactly how to make you feel noticed and cared for, but not in the least bit overwhelmed with affection – a perfect medium.

Driving to the graveyard was not as stressful as your initial drive from the airport. You originally suspected this was the case because you had time to accept the reality of it all; you were able to let the information ferment and sink in. But, as you got steadily closer to your destination and all the grief you had avoided for the last few days began to bubble to the surface of your mind, you realized this was not the case. What you had time to do was ignore the truth, become distracted as you always did. It had always been your way of dealing with your own problems. It was L’s problems you could face head on. But anything personal to you? No sir. You desperately wished you’d taken the time to develop a better coping mechanism as the car pulled into the small patch of asphalt among a sea of grass and graves.

You hadn’t even realized how fast you were breathing until Light clasped your hand, his free hand reaching to turn your head to face him directly. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?” You nodded. “Good. Now, I want you to take slower, deeper breaths, alright?” you nodded again and followed his instructions – in then out at a slow pace, inhaling as deeply as you could before blowing the air from your mouth. You squeezed Light’s hand and sent him a weary smile when you had gathered your wits.

The fresh air did you good as you stepped out of the car, shoes crunching in the loose grains of asphalt and soon gliding through blades of grass. You started to calm down, internally congratulating yourself for not freaking out with each step. This was the continued routine until the gravestone came into view. The task force was heading toward it, so no doubt it was L’S. It was marked by a fairly large, golden cross that reflected the setting sun like a mirror. You ducked your head, pretending that it was indeed the sun in your eyes that caused you to stop and cover your face. You waved for Light to go on ahead and assured him you would meet him there in a bit. You were absolutely sure no one bought your excuse, but they still respected your wishes and left you behind to gather around your brother’s grave while you turned your back to it.

You walked back to the car almost on autopilot. You could barely see, so you trained your eyes on the ground as tears freely flowed down your cheeks, not a sound leaving your lips until you were safely beside the vehicle you arrived in. You stomped your foot in the asphalt, kicked the loose pebbles around, feeling just like the child you used to be. Throwing a tantrum was not on your funeral to-do list, but there you were. You just didn’t know if you could bear it, seeing your brother for the last time as nothing but a slab of stone. You could sit by it, protect it all you wanted but it would never need you. Not like he used to. You could plant those lilies you had abandoned by it. That wasn’t actually a terrible idea.

You didn’t know how long you were standing there, pacing in the middle of the parking lot. Mustn’t have been too long, as the sun hadn’t even passed over the horizon, but it felt like an eternity.

Until…what was that? Something caught your attention, causing your head to snap up in search for the source. The others were nowhere in sight, all that stirred were a couple of birds from a nearby tree. That could have been another family visiting a grave, which would make sense given that the noise sounded similar to hysterical crying. Or…was that laughter?

You began to grow worried, deciding on a whim to check up on the others. You wouldn’t approach the grave unless you had to, you decided. Yeah, good plan, you managed to convince yourself as you took steps toward the grave. With every few feet, the noises grew louder, and you were soon able to recognize words. You sped up your pace until you made it over the hill that separated the parking lot from the field only to find…

What was Light doing on the ground? No, a better question would be: what was Light – the person who was working his ass off to catch Kira – doing kneeling on your brother’s grave, shouting that he would get rid of the police? That this is his perfect victory? That he wins?

You felt…what? What could sum up that feeling that filled your chest when that sight was exposed to you? You felt confused, you felt unsure. Then, with the realization of what was going on, you felt betrayal. Then, in a sudden wave intense enough to make you feel as though you would fall over, you felt furious. You felt a sudden need to protect your older brother just like you had done for years with playground bullies and critics, but this time with someone you thought you could trust. Someone you loved who had apparently taken advantage of your care for him – someone who had lied to your face about who they truly were.

Before you knew it you were sprinting across the field. You had no clue what you were going to do until you got to the grave and quite literally kicked him off the soil your own flesh and blood was buried under. The move was so swift you wondered if it had actually happened or if this was all some sick nightmare. God, you hoped it was. Although you almost didn’t want to pray to god now, as there was a self-proclaimed god sitting with the wind knocked out of him at your feet.

“You…you GODDAMN FUCKING TRAITOR—” you couldn’t tell if Light was actually looking at you with eyes glinting with fear or if the sunset lighting was playing tricks on you. “THAT’S MY FUCKING BROTHER—YOU CAN’T—I SHOULD NEVER HAVE—” It was impossible to finish a sentence or even a thought in your own brain. There were so many things you wanted to say and kill him for but right now everything was jumbled together.

The way Light was staring at you didn’t exactly help. Eyes that now looked red in the setting sun bore into your own pupils from the ground. He looked dead serious, almost angry that you had the guts to knock him to the ground in your fit of rage. But although your words were coming out in screaming stutters your movements seemed swift and sure, as the moment Light moved to stand up your foot flew to action once more and planted right onto his chest. His back met the ground for a second time. He wasn’t even trying to contain his fury, clawing at your ankle and baring his teeth like a dog trying his best to be intimidating, but still eager to know what you were planning to do next. After all, he could have easily shoved you off. But he was curious.

You spoke calmly now, mind set on what you wanted to ask. “You never cared about me, did you?” Light’s mouth opened to answer but you went on without letting him speak. “No, you cared about me, but only because my brother was L, and I could give you information now that he’s gone. Am I right?” again, his mouth opened, but when your heel unexpectedly dug into his chest he let out a pained and irritated groan instead of coherent words. It was like you were teasing him, not to get a laugh out of his pain but…for what? You barely even knew yourself. It wouldn’t do anything. It wouldn’t make you less humiliated for being tricked and it certainly wouldn’t bring your brother back. Either way, Light definitely didn’t like it.

Before you had the chance to react you were thrown onto your back. Light had pushed you back by your leg and rose to his feet, now above you in every sense of the word. He – Kira – had carried out his plan. Meanwhile, you had nothing left.

“You don’t have to go against me,” Light seethed, “All you have to do is let the new world take its shape, and everything will fall into place.”

“That’s a shitty sales pitch.”

“It’s an offer. You’ve done nothing wrong, committed no crimes. You’d do well in my world.” The look on your face made it apparent that you had no interest in his words. Light furrowed his brows, then the ghost of a smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “I know you –”

“You don’t know anything about me. And I clearly didn’t know you.” You pushed yourself up onto your elbows.

“—you wouldn’t want your brother’s death to be in vain.”

“I—” you paused. “What?”

“L was an obstacle I had to pass to get to a world where less people would have to suffer the same loss you have. I expect you don’t want to just throw away his death and turn me in. you can make something out of his sacrifice—“

“He wasn’t TRYING to be sacrificed; he was TRYING to put a vigilante maniac to death.”

“But if his death could mean a better world for others, you would just throw that away for your own revenge?”

You blinked, once, twice, then rapidly, shaking your head as if trying to prevent dust from getting into your eyes, or Light’s siren song from getting into your head. “Stop. That’s not…Just stop.”

“You know I’m right.” He stepped towards you and for a second you thought he was about to repay you for crushing his lungs moments ago. All that followed was his hand shooting out, stopping in front of your face. You looked up at him in disbelief. “I’ll love and care for you as I did before. I can be the one you care for in his place. All I ask is that you help me create a better world, or at least don’t try and stop me.”

You nearly scoff, but some of his words actually catch your attention. He’d love and care for you…but it would all be fake. Still, what kind of person would you be to reject others a grief-less world just to avenge your brother? But who ever said Light would follow through, not become corrupt along the way if he wasn’t already? There were so many possibilities and so many possible outcomes, all influenced by this one decision that you had to make right now.

You choked on your words.

Familiar voices were approaching.

Time was ticking.

“I…”

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

- Chapter 7 -

There was an incident at the Cloud Recesses.

Nie Mingjue offered to go deal with it, and Wen Ruohan was so busy laughing at the sheer absurdity of the idea that he allowed Wen Xu to go in his stead, which was what they had all been hoping for. Nie Huaisang had come up with the idea of the staggered offer; he was surprisingly adept at predicting how Wen Ruohan would behave, which secretly worried Nie Mingjue more than a little.

(The plan did result in a few more ‘walks’, Wen Ruohan being temporarily reminded of Nie Mingjue’s existence, and Nie Huaisang was so upset by that side-effect that he wanted to resign from making any more plans in the future. That wasn’t plausible, of course, given where they lived, but Nie Mingjue would happily suffer a little if it meant that his little brother wouldn’t turn too scheming as a result of his success.)

Wen Xu returned a while later with a letter in his hand and a twitch in his eye that refused to go away for a while. He was of a nervous disposition, whether naturally or because of how he was raised, and his anxiety was only made worse by stress – the Nightless City, unfortunately, being full of stress. Wen Qing said that he used to be cruel and vicious, obtaining relief from his own pain only by hurting others; she said, with a little too much perspicuity given her age, that it was the inevitable result of his having found out long ago that there was no consequence to his actions and, moreover, that his meanness was the only quality of his of which his father seemed to approve. Nie Mingjue hadn’t seen much of that, except maybe for some arrogance in the beginning, but Wen Qing had rolled her eyes at him when he said as much, saying that of course he hadn’t seen it, it’d been different ever since Nie Mingjue showed up.

Why that made a difference, Nie Mingjue had no idea. He hadn’t done anything, or at least he hadn’t done it intentionally.

“What happened?” he asked. “Is –”

“A-Chao is fine, no thanks to Wen Zhuliu,” Wen Xu said, grinding his teeth in a way that would probably hurt his jaw and require copious amounts of Wen Ning’s medicinal soup later to ease the soreness and strain. “We were right about him trying to get A-Chao kicked out of the Cloud Recesses and dependent on him.”

“More brothels?”

“I wish. A-Chao has been refusing to go to them –”

According to the letters Nie Mingjue has seen from both Wen Chao himself and Lan Xichen, his reaction has been to all but burst into tears at the very thought – Wen Xu’s impassioned speech had apparently made a rather large dent in his impressionable psyche. He wouldn’t even risk walking thought a red-light district at night out of concern that he might succumb to some previously unknown predatory instinct and then die horribly as a consequence.

“– so Wen Zhuliu, shall we say, creatively interpreted his refusal into being a fear of disease.”

“I mean, it is a fear of disease,” Wen Qing said dryly. “Disease is how you scared him. With the information from my books, no less.”

“No, you don’t –” Wen Xu waved his hands, looking distressed. More distressed than usual, even. “On second thought, maybe I shouldn’t be talking about this with you lot. You’re all far too young. Mingjue, you understand what I mean?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Nie Mingjue said blankly. “You haven’t even said anything yet.”

“He’s saying that Wen Zhuliu brought A-Chao a girl he could be certain wasn’t diseased,” Nie Huaisang said, his nose wrinkled. “Let me guess, the ‘incident’ in question was A-Chao being accused of rape? Probably someone young?”

“How did you figure that out?” Wen Xu demanded.

“I read a lot of pornography,” Nie Huaisang said. “Some of it involves less savory subjects.”

“Did I know you were reading about less savory subjects?” Nie Mingjue demanded, a little appalled. “Huaisang, everything we said about A-Chao being too young applies to you too, you know –”

“I read it for the art, da-ge. And the insight into what people like when they think other people aren’t looking; it’s surprisingly transferable to the rest of life. Anyway, since you’re here without A-Chao, I take it that he got out of it?”

“When he saw the girl lying in his bed, he remembered all of Mingjue’s scolding,” Wen Xu said. “He immediately ran out to find an adult to assist him. He’d been dosed with something to make him more susceptible - you know what I mean, that sort of thing, but also something to make him dizzy and forgetful, probably so he wouldn’t know for sure if he’d done it or not - but luckily he found a Lan who recognized it.”

“A Lan that knows something about drugs? That’s the most implausible part of everything you’ve said so far.”

Nie Mingjue poked Wen Qing in the forehead for excess cynicism.

“Not only did he know about it, he was able to eliminate the effects while preserving evidence regarding it,” Wen Xu said, sounding begrudgingly impressed. “His testimony of A-Chao’s innocence is rather unimpeachable.”

“What did he do, run to Teacher Lan?” Wen Ning asked, eyes wide. He’d been inexplicably terrified of Lan Qiren ever since they’d met briefly at a discussion conference – apparently Lan Qiren had imparted some wise words and Wen Ning had said something stupid in response, and now he wanted to dig himself into a giant pit any time the man’s name was so much as mentioned.

“Oh no,” Wen Xu said. “That’s the best part of this story, actually. This whole thing happened in the middle of the night, a dark one with barely any moon, and you know how A-Chao is with directions –”

“Tell him something he wants is the next town to the east and he’ll immediately go to the west, south and north before he makes it.”

“He got lost,” Nie Mingjue guessed. “And ended up…where? With who?”

“Qingheng-jun.”

The entire room simultaneously buried their faces in their hands.

“He intruded on Sect Leader Lan’s seclusion,” Nie Huaisang moaned. “The seclusion that’s been going on for nearly twenty years. Because of course he did, that’s our A-Chao for you. Oh, Lan Wangji is going to kill me…”

“You’re still in contact?” Nie Mingjue asked, surprised.

“We exchange letters, it’s no big deal. Tell me more about what happened – did they actually have to get Qingheng-jun to testify?”

“Oh yes, the family made a big stink about it. They wanted to get the girl married in as a concubine or the sect to pay out; they weren’t exactly happy when all the doctors confirmed that she was still pure. They even accused the doctors of being paid off! Lan sect doctors!”

“What did you do with Wen Zhuliu?”

“He claimed he had no idea how it happened. Somehow while also implying that I was being unnecessarily overzealous in A-Chao’s defense, since there’s nothing that unusual about taking a concubine – as if everyone wouldn’t understand it as being all but an outright admission that he was a rapist! I pretended I believed that he wasn’t responsible for the whole thing - he was, of course - and told him that if something like this happened on his watch without his knowledge, he was clearly a piece of shit bodyguard that ought to be replaced.”

“I bet he liked that!”

“I want to learn archery,” Wen Ning said.

“You already know archery,” Nie Mingjue said, ruffling his hair. “You’re very good at archery.”

“Not in public I’m not.” Wen Ning firmed up his jaw. “I want to be good enough at archery that I can win honor for the Wen sect when the main competition is archery.”

“That won’t be until the next time we host,” Wen Xu pointed out. “Which is years from now. You’ll be sixteen – no, seventeen by then.”

“Ancient,” Nie Mingjue, who was about that age himself, said solemnly. “Doddering. Almost decrepit. The only thing worse would be if you were twenty and on your way to twenty-one –”

Wen Xu glared.

“I’m serious,” Wen Ning insisted. “Everyone else has a talent. Why not me?”

“All right, then,” Nie Mingjue said, because mentioning how good a cook of medicinal cuisine Wen Ning was would clearly not be appropriate at this juncture. Lots of boys eventually wanted to learn a martial skill, no matter where their real talents might lie. He might have even said all boys, except of course there was always Nie Huaisang to be the glaring exception to the rule. “We’ll adjust your training regime, invite some specialized tutors…”

Wen Ning was shaking his head. “I want to go to the Jiang sect.”

“What?”

“They always win, don’t they? Maybe they lose out on first place to the Lan sect, with their arm strength, or by some fluke to someone else, but if they have a strong contestant, they win, and even when they don’t win they always place. It’s the best place to go learn.” He shrugged. “Anyway, it’s not like I’m going to get invited to the Cloud Recesses.”

Nie Mingjue had half a dozens protests on his lips, and they all died at once. It was true. Wen Ning would not be invited to study at Gusu, possessing neither an exceptional talent for some facet of learning nor a family willing to push him in. Nie Huaisang would go without question on the basis of Lan Qiren’s former friendship with their father, assuming Wen Ruohan would allow it, and Wen Qing, only interested in the study of medicine, had recently started corresponding with various medicine halls and could maybe get an internship somewhere. She’d been talking recently about Lanling, and though he’d objected to that on the basis of Jin Guangshan, the whole world would welcome a promising doctor.

Only Wen Ning would be trapped here, in the Nightless City.

(With Nie Mingjue, who could not leave, because he wasn’t broken enough yet. Who might not ever be, might live and die without ever being allowed out any further than a closely supervised night hunt, like a bird in a cage.)

Nie Mingjue didn’t especially like the idea of staying here in the Nightless City alone, but his own interests had never been as important as those he could protect. Unlike him, Wen Ning had a future, a life of his own, to look forward to, and so Nie Mingjue looked at Wen Xu. “Do you think…?”

Wen Xu made a face. “I’m not sure,” he said, frowning at Wen Ning in a way that Nie Mingjue knew meant something to Qishan Wen minds because of the way that Wen Ning ducked his head in embarrassment. “They don’t normally take outside students the way that the Lan sect does. I guess we could ask, though, using the way the Lan sect blew up as a cover.”

“They’re readjusting,” Nie Mingjue corrected, trying to be diplomatic. “Qingheng-jun was in seclusion for such a long time – it’s a big change for them for him to come out. For his sons, especially.”

He wished that he could write to Lan Xichen. Not because he had something intelligent to say about it, but more so that he could listen to all the emotions Lan Xichen was undoubtedly trying to suppress – Nie Mingjue couldn’t imagine how he must be feeling. His father, locked away for so long so as to be little more than a myth, suddenly and abruptly brought back to life –

Perhaps it was better that they didn’t write. Given what had happened to Nie Mingjue’s own father, Lan Xichen would probably refrain from saying anything at all.

“In other words, they blew up,” Wen Xu said dryly. “I’ll write to the Jiang sect and make some inquiries, not naming any names. If we get their approval, we can figure out how best to petition Father. He’ll like that angle, though; winning honor…Huaisang came up with that, did he?”

Nie Mingjue was going to protest, but Wen Ning nodded.

“I figured. We’re still going to adjust your schedule, start getting you ready – we need to make it believable.”

“Why does it have to be believable if it’s true?” Nie Mingjue asked, looking from one to the other. “Why would A-Ning do something if he doesn’t want to do it?”

“I do want to do it!” Wen Ning exclaimed, his little face red but determined. “I want to do it really badly, Mingjue-ge. Really.”

“All right, then,” Nie Mingjue said, convinced despite his suspicion that they were up to something – but then, they were always up to something, and he was usually not included.

For very good reason, and at his own request.

“All right,” he said again. “If you want it, then we’ll find a way.”

“Tell me everything you know,” Wen Ruohan murmured. “And it can stop.”

For today, he meant. A fool’s promise, false gold, worthless – meaning nothing.

Nie Mingjue talked anyway.

Wen Chao arrived home from the Cloud Recesses, to everyone’s joy, and even managed, with some hurrying, to make it back a week before Wen Ning was scheduled to set out.

“I brought wine for everyone!” he announced.

“You did not,” Nie Mingjue said sternly, though he wasn’t quite able to stop himself from smiling.

“Okay, okay, I got gifts for everyone. But I also brought wine, if you want some – it’s called Emperor’s Smile, you’ll like it –”

“Forget the wine,” Nie Mingjue said. “You’ve grown!”

He had – at least half a hand’s worth, and his face was starting to show the curves of adulthood, despite the considerable baby fat remaining.

“I’ve grown?” Wen Chao laughed. “Look who’s talking!”

Everyone laughed, even Nie Mingjue, who ducked his head – it wasn’t his fault that he kept on growing. His father had been especially tall, and his mother even more so; it was to be expected!

Admittedly, it wouldn’t hurt to start slowing down a little. Any time now.

“Yes, well, I grow any more and your father will chop me off at the ankles,” he said, shaking his head. Wen Ruohan seemed torn between pleasure at having such a hulking beast tamed at his feet – his words – and irritation that Nie Mingjue would shortly be able to look down at him. “Tell us about your studies, A-Chao. Did you make any friends?”

“Did you pass?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“Of course I passed! And I only cheated once –”

Nie Mingjue covered his eyes and groaned dramatically.

“When I go, I’m going to cheat all the time,” Nie Huaisang announced.

Nie Mingjue aimed for an even more dramatic groan.

“And you probably won’t pass even if you do,” Wen Qing put in.

Now it was Nie Huaisang’s turn to moan. “Has anyone ever told you that your tongue is as sharp and piercing as your needles, A-Qing?”

“No. You want me to demonstrate why?”

“Help! Help! Have mercy!”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wen xu #wen chao #wen ning #wen qing #my fic #my fics #fire and light

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p-artsypants · 3 years

Text

The Ghost of Smokey Joe (1)

Minnie the Moocher

Adrien Agreste was acting bizarre. Stilted body language, plastic smile, and he seemed to have forgotten how close they were. Before she can get the truth out of him, Marinette finds herself as the sole heir to the Gabriel brand and the mansion, following the murder-suicide of both Adrien and Gabriel Agreste. The mystery continues as Tikki explains that Adrien was Chat Noir...but if Adrien is six feet under, why is Chat Noir still running around?

Ao3 | FF.net

This was started before season three ended, though I was busy at the time and couldn’t finish it. Basically, season 4 never happened, and the Peacock Miraculous is still broken.

—

At the age of 22, life had a good projection for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She finally got her big break, somewhat thanks to Adrien. She was working at Gabriel, as one of Gabriel Agreste’s lead designers, though she was still technically an intern. Though Adrien didn’t directly have a hand in getting her the job, his continued praise of her work in front of his father probably had something to do with it.

Though it was never confirmed, Marinette would never have to worry if she got the job on her own merit or not. She did.

In fact, Gabriel was continually impressed with her work, even after she had landed the position. His harsh criticisms ended with her. Where he never hesitated to rip another designer to shreds for a mistake, Marinette never had to face that rage.

He just honestly respected her too much to do so. And it helped that she was so gracious with his critiques. Never taking anything personally, and doing everything for the brand.

Co-workers probably could have been resentful to her, but if they were, it was never outwardly shown. It helped that she readily got along with and tried to be friends with everyone. She took advice to heart, and accepted criticisms professionally. So it was hard to dislike her. Even when she was the one that was accepted into the Agreste Manor to work with Gabriel in person. A rare treat for any employee. And she got to go at least twice a week.

There was just one little tiny problem.

8 years later, Marinette no longer had a crush on Adrien. Oh no, she was head over heels in love with him. The deepest, most pure, sweet, and sincere love there was. And he had no clue.

It was her curse. As they got older and matured, so did her feelings. He only got more handsome, more friendly and outgoing, and more perfect to her. He learned he was allowed to be affectionate with his friends, her, Alya, and Nino, and didn’t hold back. Marinette was showered in hugs, cheek kisses, and hand holds. All punctuated with the dreaded phrase, ‘you’re such a great friend, Marinette’.

It’s like he wanted her to suffer.

As they graduated Collegé, Adrien confessed that he was afraid they’d all grow apart as they went off to University. Marinette took that as a challenge and made sure to invite them to weekly get-togethers. And so friends did they remain.

And only friends.

Marinettte came home to her shared apartment with Alya. Her long time best friend was sprawled out in the middle of the living room, surrounded by swatches.

Marinette laughed at the sight. “Wedding blues?”

“Yes!” Alya shrieked, sitting up. “We’ve been together for 8 years, engaged for six months, and I still haven’t picked our colors yet!”

“I thought you were doing burnt sienna and forest green? You know, a call back to your stint as Rena Rouge and Carapace?” A supposed secret between them up until a few years ago.

“I can’t. I don’t like the combination anymore. And no matter how temporary, our superhero run should remain a secret. I shouldn’t have even told you.” She started cleaning up the swatches, resigned to know that she wasn’t getting anywhere tonight. “How goes the apartment search?”

Marinette winced. “Not as great as I was hoping. A lot of places that I could afford, but I could afford better with a roommate. I want to have savings, you know?”

“Did you ask Adrien?”

Marinette blushed. “You know that’s not a good idea.”

“Why not? He’s still living at the mansion. And you’re such good friends.” Alya smirked at her. “Or, you could just ask him out. Then live with your parents for a few months until he realizes how perfect you are and proposes.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Says you! Look, you’re my maid of honor, he’s Nino’s best man. At least ask him out as a pretense to have an official date to the wedding.”

“A wedding that’s six months away?” Marinette asked, as she hung up her purse and coat. “And what if something catastrophic happens between then?”

“Then you kiss and make up at my wedding.”

Marinette rolled her eyes before heading over to the kitchen. “Alya, he hasn’t dated anyone since Kagami. I think he’s holding out for someone.”

“Yeah! You!”

Marinette fondly shook her head. “He’s not.”

“He is!”

“Did he tell Nino, and he told you?”

“Well, no. Nino’s been trying for years to get his crush out of him.”

“Then, there you go. If it was me, Nino would have found out by now. No, it’s someone else. Maybe a married woman, or a man.”

Alya laughed at that. “Girl, you always go to the worst case scenario. Just…flirt with him a little, prod him with your womanly wiles.” Then she batted her eyes. “Please? For me?”

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do. You know it’s going to go so well this time, right?”

“That’s the spirit!”

“I was being sarcastic!”

Folks here's a story 'bout Minnie the Moocher,

She was a red hot hoochie coocher,

She was the roughest, toughest frail,

But Minnie had a heart as big as a whale.

The next day at work, Marinette forgot all about flirting. It was a race to finish her project. She had gotten the design approved, and now it was on to start assembling the piece.

There was a knock at her office door.

“‘Ome ‘n,” she said with a mouth full of pins.

Who would arrive except for handsome, angelic, and...pale? Adrien. “Are you busy?” He asked with a small voice.

Quickly, Marinette shoved the pins into the fabric to hold it in place, and dumped the rest back into the tin.

“I can take a break.” Anything for you. She thought, offering him a chair.

“Thanks,” he nearly collapsed into it. Then he looked around the office, for what, she didn’t know.

“Soooo...what’s up?”

Adrien didn’t answer right away, still scanning the room, eyes narrowed. He rubbed his palms on his pants.

“Are you okay?” She pushed a little more.

“Huh? Oh, uh…” He clenched his fists and swallowed harshly. “Do you…want to have dinner with me tonight?”

A blush stained her cheeks. “Really?”

“Yeah, um…somewhere private. I want to talk to you about something, but um…it’s a secret.”

“Well, Alya is going on a late night date with Nino, if you want to come to our apartment. I could just order some Chinese?”

He exhaled slowly and smiled at her. “That sounds awesome, thanks Marinette.”

“What time? I get out around 6.”

“I’ll meet you at 7 then?”

“Yeah, yeah that sounds perfect.” Spurred on by the fact he was finally asking her out on a date, Marinette leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Adrien blushed furiously before standing. “Um, I’ll see you tonight then. Thanks for um…yeah, I’ll let you get back to work.”

Marinette continued to grin at him shyly until he left. Then she collapsed in the chair he had occupied. She didn’t have to flirt or do anything! It was finally happening! A date! With Adrien!

She ran to her purse and snatched up her phone. “Alya!” She called. “Alya, it finally happened! Clear the next 15 minutes and get the popcorn, I need to panic!”

He gave her his townhouse and his racing horses

Each meal she ate was a dozen courses

She had a million dollars worth of nickels and dimes

She sat around and counted them all a million times

That night, Marinette sat ready and waiting. The apartment was spotless. She had ordered his favorite dish, and wore a cute little green dress (his favorite color.)

“Alright, I’m leaving,” declared Alya. “You two behave.”

“It’s a first date, Alya. Like we’re going to do anything at all.”

“Puh-lease, the sexual tension between you two is unbearable. He’s going to be on you like white on rice!”

“Don’t be so vulgar!” Marinette laughed. “Adrien is a gentleman.”

“Sure. Anyways, I hope you have fun!”

“I’m sure we will.”

“Bye girl, bye.”

“Bye girl, bye!”

And the door closed.

Any minute now, Adrien would be knocking. And then what? Would he kiss her cheek like she had? A hug maybe? Or both? What was appropriate for her? Offer to take his coat? Yes yes, that sounded right. Was her hair okay? She brushed her teeth, right?

“Wine!” She announced. “What wine pairs with Chinese food?”

“Might I suggest Riesling?” Said Tikki, from her hiding place.

“Riesling! Riesling…I don’t have Riesling! I don’t know what that is!”

Tikki laughed at her. “Marinette, just relax. Just do a Rosé. It’s fine.”

Marinette hurried to the cabinet and fetched a bottle and two glasses. Then she poured one for herself and downed it in one go. “I don’t know if I can do this! I’m so nervous!”

“You and Adrien are great friends, it’ll go great! Just relax and enjoy it. He’s not even here yet, there’s no reason to panic.”

“You’re right! I’ll just…I’ll just wait!”

So she sat and fidgeted. Nothing to do but wait.

And wait she did.

8 o’clock came before she knew it. And she checked her phone. Nothing.

Did you forget about dinner? She texted.

There was no reply.

“It’s alright Marinette, he’ll come. Maybe he got held up in traffic, or his father needed him for something?” Tikki said encouragingly.

“Yeah, maybe…he’d at least call, wouldn’t he?” Not waiting for an answer, she called him first.

“Hey there, it’s Adrien, I’m not available to answer right now…”

She hung up.

She poured herself another glass. “He wouldn’t just…ghost me?”

“He cares a lot about you, of course he wouldn’t.”

“Hey there, it’s Adrien, I’m not available to answer right now…” Another voicemail.

9 o’clock.

Poor Min, poor Min, poor Min

“Hey there, it’s Adrien, I’m not available to answer right now…”

The Chinese went cold, and the bottle of Rosé was emptied.

He never showed up.

I can’t guarantee prompt updates for a little bit. I have some logistics to figure out, but I have a few chapters ready, so I figured I’d start posting! All the chapter titles are songs from my spooky halloween playlist that inspired this fic (and their lyrics will be in the chapters)! You can find that playlist here. The playlist will be updated as the fic goes on.

I hope to post the last chapter on Halloween!

#ml #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #the ghost of Smokey Joe #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #adrien agreste #ladybug #chat noir #mystery #murder mystery #horror #ghosts

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freedom-of-writing · 3 years

Text

The Stable Girl

Wayhaught AU:

Waverly of the house Earp is a young princess supposed to marry the champion of the tournament organized by her father, the king, for her 21st birthday. Nicole is the new stable girl with big dreams of becoming a knight of the king's guard. What will happen when these two elements, minding their own business, finally connect? Will they become love?

Chapter 1 – Waverly’s birthday

Her 21st birthday was supposed to be the most magical day of her life. She’d been planning that day for years now. But unfortunately, things don’t always go as planned. Actually, for her it seemed like they never went as planned. Her eldest sister Willa had gotten married 4 years prior, and she had moved to another castle with her husband, prince Robert Svane. Not that she missed her. Willa had always been a bully to her. As for her other big sister Wynonna, she was a knight of the king’s guard, their father’s army, and she’d been away for ten months now. She was probably still fighting some battle, or just getting really drunk in some tavern with the rest of the knights. She’d promised she’d be back for her birthday, but she must’ve forgotten. As always. And that was it. The only other people she talked to in the castle were her two handmaids, Stephanie and Chrissy. When they were younger, she used to consider them her friends, but with time she’d come to realize they only cared about gossip, beautiful dresses and boys. She was way too educated to settle for their company. What she really needed was someone with whom she could talk about literature and science, and do all kinds of things that were not necessarily girly.

When she was a kid, she and Wynonna used to hang out with the stable boys, or the king’s guard rookies. They would wrestle each other and spar with wooden swords, and in the hot season they would ride to a lake only a few miles away from the castle, and they would swim, and talk, and play around… She missed doing all those things. But mostly, she missed being allowed to hang with her sister and the boys. It’d been so long since she’d felt that carefree and happy. Seven years to be precise. On her 14th birthday her father told her she was no longer a kid, and it was time for her to start behaving like a proper lady. She’d never understood why Wynonna was allowed to be a tomboy, while she had to give it all up. But maybe it’s because their father simply viewed his middle daughter as a lost cause. Which might also be why he had given her an ultimatum: either she got married and started acting like a lady, or she trained to become a knight of the king’s guard. But Waverly, she wasn’t stubborn enough to go against her father’s will. And that led her to years spent following Willa around and mimicking her every move, while her sister basically treated her like her personal slave. Finally, when Willa got married, Waverly was left alone. Apart from some brief visits from Wynonna, she’d been alone for 4 years now. At first it had felt very lonely, but with time she got used to the peace and quiet, and most of all, to the company of a good book or some music. She would spend most of her days in the library, reading books, playing piano and singing. When her father wasn’t at home, she would go to the stables and spend hours with the horses, the dogs and Lady Jane, a ginger cat who seemed to dislike every human but her. But she would always make sure not to be alone with the stable boys. She could see the hungry looks on their faces whenever they saw her, and that made her extremely uncomfortable. Wynonna had warned her about that: “beware of the boy who’s turned into a man, for he wants a woman not a friend”. Sometimes her sister could be quite poetic. But she was right. Those who used to be her friends now scared her, and she did not want to be alone in their presence.

Anyways, back to her birthday. You’d think having to spend it all alone was the worst of it, but no. It gets even worse. Apparently, her father had decided 21 was the perfect age for her to become officially a lady. Someone’s lady, to be precise. Her dreams of travelling and exploring the world after coming of age were all shattered by the king’s wish to find her a husband. He would have never said it out loud, but Waverly knew her father couldn’t wait to get rid of her, as bad as it sounds. She never understood why he hated her so much. He was always so attentive when it came to Willa and Wynonna, but with her… sometimes she felt like he didn’t even remember he had a third daughter. Wynonna had always told her he only became so harsh when their mother left. But why punishing his six-year-old kid for a decision his wife had made? It was not her fault she chose to leave her family behind and start a new life somewhere else. If it were for Waverly, she would have gladly left with her mother. At least the queen had always been caring and loving with her. Everything her father had never been. He had never given a damn about what she wanted, nor had he ever bothered giving her a choice.

“You’ll be a grown woman soon. It’s time we find you a husband. You can’t live under your father’s roof forever.” He had told her a month before.

Not wasting any time, he had come up with the perfect plan to find a suitor for his daughter: in honor of the princess’s birthday, the king was to host a week-long tournament, and lords and princes from all over the realm were to come and fight for a chance to win her hand.

Waverly had lost count of how many men she had to welcome and greet in the past couple of days. And it wasn’t even over yet. The last of the party were to arrive that morning, so not even on her birthday was she allowed to have some time for herself and do something she liked. That’s why she had ordered her handmaids to come wake her up early that morning. Obedient as always, Chrissy and Stephanie had knocked on her door at 7 am, two hours before the first guests would be arriving to meet her. In just a little over an hour she was up and ready, which meant she had quite some time to spend on her own before meeting her father in the throne room. The two girls had tried to convince her to let them stay so they could celebrate her birthday together over breakfast, but she had a long day ahead of her, and she really needed some peace and quiet before it started.

When the two had left, she sat down by the window to look out at the garden. Opening it a little, she let the cool breeze run through her stray locks, and she took a deep breath in. She was wearing a huge silver gown with high-heeled shoes. And her hair was tied up behind her head with little lilac flowers in it. The fresh air and the peaceful atmosphere of the garden made her forget about how uncomfortable those clothes were, and for a moment she imagined being little carefree Waverly, running barefoot in the grass chasing butterflies and dreaming about flying up in the sky with them. Her mother would be sitting under a tree making her a flower crown, while Wynonna would be chasing squirrels up the trees like a little monkey. And Willa… well she would be inside with their father, learning how to rule a kingdom. As far as Waverly could remember, Willa had never played outside with them. Wynonna used to say her big sister loved playing with her when they were little, but she was the heir and their father wanted to be sure she knew how to rule the kingdom once he was gone. That’s why Willa had stopped being a kid quite early on.

It was almost the end of summer, and the trees were starting to look less green than before. A light shade of yellow tinted the leaves, and the grass was no longer covered in flowers. In just a few weeks most of the birds would be gone as well, flying away to look for a warmer place to spend the winter. Waverly remembered a conversation she had with her mother on her sixth birthday. The last they spent together.

“The garden is a magical place, my little one. The grass, the trees, the animals moving around… everything’s alive. And everything keeps changing. I could stare at it every day for the rest of my life and never get tired. If you look closely, there’s always something new to admire.”

“But in winter it gets kinda sad. The birds all leave, and the squirrels hide. It all looks kind of naked without leaves and flowers.”

“Life’s a circle, baby girl. The old die so the new can thrive. But there’s beauty even in the silence of a sleeping garden.”

“I miss you, mama.” Waverly whispered at the wind as a tear fell down her cheek.

The king had told everyone the queen had died of a sudden illness, but the three princesses knew she had just left because she couldn’t take that life any longer. Wherever she was, Waverly imagined her sitting in the grass with her eyes closed as she listened to what nature had to say around her. And she was happy. At peace.

Speaking of, her own peace was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was time. Two of his father’s guards had come to escort her to the throne room, where the king was already waiting for her. With a heavy sigh, Waverly got up and closed the window, taking one last deep breath in. Then she turned and followed the guards outside.

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

“Father.” She greeted with a slight bow when she reached the throne.

Her father barely bowed his head in return before motioning for her to take her seat by his right side. Once she was seated, she noticed lord John Henry Holliday, the king’s hand, had also taken his place on the other side of the throne. Doc, as he liked to be called, was a middle-aged man, with black hair and a thick black mustache. His beautiful blue eyes met hers briefly and he smiled warmly at her. She had never spent much time with him, but the man had always been really nice and sweet with her.

“Happy birthday, princess.” He mouthed at her.

“Thank you.” She mouthed back with a bright smile.

It was in that moment that she realized her father had not even bothered wishing her a happy birthday when she entered the room. But he probably didn’t even remember it was today. He had never really been aware of her birthday. If it weren’t for Doc, she was sure, he wouldn’t have even remembered she was turning 21 that year.

The noise of heavy footsteps approaching the room brought her back to reality. The captain of the guards, who had been charged to escort each guest to the throne room, entered the room and announced the first lord.

“Welcome to Purgatory, lord Lance” Doc greeted him once the man was standing in front of the throne.

Lord Lance nodded briefly at him, before bowing to the king. “Your majesty.” Then, turning towards Waverly, he bowed slightly to her as well. “Princess.”

“If you will, please, follow the guards, they’ll show you to your room. You can rest and get changed. The king and the princess will see you at lunch.” Doc told him.

“Thank you, lord Holliday.” He nodded again, and then he turned to follow the guards out of the room.

“These Lance… are they rich?” The king asked once the man had left.

“Very rich, your majesty.”

“Good. He seems nice too.”

“He could be father…” Waverly whispered making sure her father wouldn’t hear her.

If she really had no choice but to get married, couldn’t she at least marry a man her age? She thought to herself with a heavy sigh. This birthday was slowly turning into her worst nightmare. She could almost feel tears forming in her eyes, but she could not cry right now. The morning had just begun, she had to keep it together. With a deep breath, she pushed back the tears, and she put on a smile as the next guest was admitted into the room.

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

The morning had seemed to last forever. The last of the guests arrived when everyone was ready to go to lunch, and the king refused to meet him. Doc had tried to convince Waverly to go with the king, but she refused. She hated this whole meeting and greeting the guests, but these men had come from all over the realm just for her, and the least she could do was welcoming them into her home as a princess should do. Obviously, her gesture did not go unnoticed, and the lord made sure she knew how grateful he was for her patience. He was an old man, almost completely bold, but at least he’d proved to be very polite, offering Waverly his arm as they walked to the dining room.

After an hour, Waverly was getting a terrific headache, and she just couldn’t take the noise anymore. Being the only woman in a room full of men was bad enough, but being the only woman in a room full of screaming drunk men was too much.

“Father, I’m not feeling well, I think I might retreat to the library for a while.” She tried to tell him, but the king was too drunk to process what she’d just said.

Luckily, Doc heard her and granted her permission to go. “We’ll see you at four. Have some rest, princess.”

She smiled gratefully at him, and then she turned towards the guests excusing herself. Once she was out, she ran down the hallway and out into the garden. As the fresh air filled her lungs, she felt her head beginning to pound less and less. She was free, at least for an hour or so. After a moment of reflection, she decided that going for a walk in the garden would be much better than closing herself in the library. The cool breeze would surely make her headache to go away. She just hoped no one went looking for her inside, or she would be in great trouble.

She’d been walking for forty minutes when she found herself in front of the stables. It had been a while since the last time she went in. In the past year the king had barely ever left the castle to go haunting with his lords. Taking a look around to make sure nobody could see her, she decided to go in. She was immediately greeted by lady Jane who came running towards her.

“Hey, little one. Did you miss me? Yeah?” She said as she leaned down to pet her, and the cat happily purred in response.

She stayed like that for a while, but suddenly the cat took off looking for a place to hide.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Waverly asked as she got up to see where she had gone.

“I didn’t know princesses were allowed in the stables.” A voice said from behind, startling her.

“God!” Waverly exclaimed with a little jump. “You scared me...” She said turning around to face the other person.

In front of her was a beautiful tall young woman with long red hair and big brown eyes, which seemed like they could stare right into her soul. She was wearing a pair of khakis and a sleeveless brown leather jacket over a creme shirt. She must have been a new servant or something, because Waverly couldn’t recall having seen her before. And it’s not like there were many ginger heads around there.

“Are you okay?” The redhead asked with a chuckle.

Waverly couldn’t help but stare at her. The woman was giving her the most beautiful smile Waverly had ever seen. And the dimples on the side of her mouth made her look even cuter.

“Yeah, I’m… I just had a crazy morning.” She managed to answer after a moment.

“Sorry I wasn’t there to see it.” The woman said with a smirk.

Was she… was this woman flirting with her? Waverly couldn’t help but blush a little at her cheeky behavior.

“I’ve been… I’ve been meaning to introduce myself. I’m Nicole. Nicole Haught. The new stable girl.” The redhead said trying to break the awkward silence. Offering her hand for the princess to take, she continued. “And you are… Waverly Earp. Quite a popular girl around here.” She smiled before kissing the back of Waverly’s hand, making the princess blush in the process.

In her life, she had been greeted like that from gentlemen a thousand times, but no one had ever made her feel butterflies in her stomach. Waverly felt so shy and small as Nicole’s soft lips grazed her skin.

“So… why is a princess like you hiding from her perfect life?” Nicole asked letting go of Waverly’s hand.

“I’m not hiding!” Waverly answered harshly, catching Nicole off guard. “I’m sorry… I’m not usually like this.” She apologized when she noticed the shocked look on the redhead’s face.

“Hey… I get it. No one’s life is perfect.” She reassured her with a shrug.

“Yeah, well, mine’s feeling more like hell than a perfect life lately…” Waverly said more to herself than to Nicole, but the stable girl still heard her loud and clear and gave her a questioning look.

“I’ve spent the past couple of days smiling and waving at lords and princes who came here for the tournament. My father wants me to marry the champion.” She explained with a sigh.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve spent all morning cleaning your stables. Looks like my morning was shittier than yours. Both literally and figuratively.” Nicole joked hoping to lighten Waverly’s mood.

“Might be hard to believe, but… I kinda envy you.”

“Oh, c’mon, how bad can it be? You get to marry a rich prince, or some brave knight…”

“Most of the men I’ve greeted are like forty years old! And what if I just don’t wanna get married?!” Waverly exclaimed in an exasperated tone.

Couldn’t everyone just leave her be for one freaking minute, and let her choose whether she wanted to get married or not?! All her life, she’d had to be what others expected her to be, but no one ever bothered asking what it was that she really wanted. Willa got to marry a rich prince, yeah, but he was also the man she’d been in love with ever since they were kids. And even Wynonna was given a choice. Okay, it was more of an ultimatum, but still… she wasn’t forced to marry a man twice her age. But what about her? Her father had never given her a chance to find her place in this world. All these years spent trying to be the perfect little girl her family wanted her to be, hoping to enter her father’s graces, and nothing had changed.

“What do you want?” Waverly was taken aback by that question. Nicole was the first person who’d ever asked her that.

“I… I don’t know.” She realized in that moment that she’d never really thought about that question, so used to tailor herself to the people she was with.

“Well, what do you like? There’s gotta be something that’s just… yours. A dream, a wish, a passion…”

“I… I’ve always wanted to see the world, and visit the places I’ve read about in my books. And… and I wanna drink beer at the tavern with my friends, or… hold a sword, a real sword. I wanna travel around with the king’s guard and fight in battles like my sister does. Why does she get to be a hero, while I get to be just…” She trailed off.

“Just what?”

“Me.” Waverly concluded in a sad tone.

“Hey… look, you as you are, are okay. You don’t have to be a hero to be special.” Nicole tried to comfort her by grabbing her hand and giving it a light squeeze.

Waverly looked down at their joined hands for a moment, and then she looked up only to be met by the brightest and warmest smile ever. Nicole was looking at her with so much love and compassion that she felt like she could get lost in those big brown eyes of hers.

“You’re special, baby girl. Don’t ever forget that.”

So far, mama had been the only one to ever call her that.

They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, until it became too much. Retracting her hand from Nicole’s, Waverly tried to break the awkward silence. “So, hum… what about you? What do you want?” Waverly asked while sitting down on a trunk nearby.

“Me? I’m just a stable girl…”

“And don’t stable girls have dreams too?”

“I should probably get back to work now. Those horses won’t brush themselves.” Nicole said, clearly avoiding the question.

“You know, when I was a little kid I used to come here every day and would spend hours with my horse. But when I turned 14, my father forbade me to come to come to stables. I could still ride my horse if I we had to go somewhere, but he said I wasn’t a kid anymore, and ladies can’t get covered in mud and dust. The only times I can come to the stables are when he’s not at home.”

“So why are you here?”

“I needed a break. And he thinks I’m in the library.”

“I see…” Nicole said, then she got an idea. “Hey, do you wanna help out?”

“Oh, I’d love to! Like… like to. But I can’t.” She tried to correct herself.

What the hell, girl? Get your shit together! She mentally scolded herself. You see one hot girl, and suddenly your brain can’t work anymore? OMG, did she just think Nicole was hot?

She took a deep breath in order to gain some control again, and then she continued explaining. “If I get dirt on my gown, my father’s gonna kill me.”

“I got some spare clothes if you want… you could just get changed.” Nicole offered with a smile. Or was it a smirk?

“It’s not that simple, it took me like 40 minutes to get into this gown.”

“40 minutes, huh? I bet I could get you out of it faster…” Nicole said to herself, but it was still loud enough for Waverly to hear it.

“What?”

“Help. I bet I could help you out of it faster. If… if you wanted to get changed.” She tried to correct herself.

Damn it, Haught! Couldn’t you keep the comment to yourself? This time it was Nicole’s turn to mentally scold herself.

“Right. Hum…” Waverly didn’t really know where to go from there. She had never actually flirted with someone before. Let alone with a woman. She needed an excuse to leave, fast. She couldn’t do this right now. “I… I’d better go back now. Before my father finds out I’m not actually in the library.”

“Sure, yeah. Then maybe some other time.” Nicole smiled at her. “I mean it.” She added with a hint of a smirk.

Waverly smiled briefly at her, and then she turned to leave before the other woman could notice just how bad she was blushing.

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

Chapter 2 - The night shift

#wynonna earp #wayhaught #wayhaught au #waverly earp #nicole haught #fanfiction #fanfic

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mavda · 3 years

Text

Beast Tamers

Summary: Mythical beasts roamed the world, all-powerful and terrifying, and the beast tamers sealed them withing themselves. Revered, feared or hated, a beast tamer will never have a normal life, and now Naruto Uzumaki is facing the start of his adult life: choosing a wife.

By his father's beseeching, Naruto is now seeking a wife from the Hyuuga clan, in hopes of extending his life somehow. Nobody expects him to be a real husband, to be a real father, but if Naruto is forced to start a family he will be damned if he disappoints.

Ch.1: A bride for the beast tamer

His father is looking at him with disapproval, he knows. He tries his best to ignore him by looking out the window and entertaining himself with the passing prairies, but Minato Uzumaki will drill a hole through his skull at this rate. "What," he barks. Minato breathes with exasperation, "Would it kill you to behave appropriately, son?"

Naruto blows a raspberry and keeps looking out the window with his slouched back, open legs and annoyed face. "I don't know, you tell me." "We're meeting your future wife, please try to at least look interested." "Bride," Naruto corrects, "future bride, and what's it they say? If you don't love me at my worst, you don't de-?" "Naruto!" Minato hisses, and Naruto knows he has overstepped. His father his hurt. He knows. He knew he would hurt him if he treated this meeting with such nonchalance, and he did it anyways. "Is wanting for you to live a couple more years such a horrible wish of mine?" Naruto bites his tongue, because he doesn't have the heart to tell his father that sometimes he wishes... "I will behave," Naruto concedes, "I will try my best to behave," he adds, because he knows himself. But he doesn't straighten his back, doesn't close his legs and doesn't wash the grimace off his face. "Thank you, son. Thank you." And Naruto pouts towards the window.

⁂

His stupid formal kimono is stuffy and the coat cord dangles in front of him. He has to fight the urges to grip it and rip it off. Their carriage leaves and a bunch of servants guide them towards the inner rooms of the house. Hiashi Hyuuga, head of the family, welcomes them alone and offers drinks to the both of them. Naruto became head of the family 5 years ago, the moment he became 18, so although he doesn't particularly enjoy drinking, he can't refuse the man's offering. They talk about unremarkable stuff, most having to do with their respective clans. Hiashi offers another drink and Naruto accepts out of politeness, it is common knowledge that a Beast Tamer should always keep their minds clear and alert. Naruto decides to give the man the benefit of the doubt, mainly because Minato has barely said a word and Naruto promised to behave. But then Hiashi offers another drink and Naruto crosses his arms. "I am afraid I will have to refuse, Lord Hiashi, I can not afford to get lost on the drink before meeting my future bride." Hiashi looks as bored as he had when they arrived, but he nods and calls for a servant to bring his daughters. They lock eyes afterwards and Naruto remains stoic. The man is getting on his nerves. When the door opens again, Naruto doesn't break eye contact until Hiashi does, and by that time the two daughters are already kneeling beside their father, one to each side of him. Their faces are glued to their hands on the floor and they do not move until their father says they are able to do so. Naruto hides his disgust by pressing his lips together. Patriarcal clans are always weird as fuck. If his mother had been alive he would have married a woman from another matriarchal clan, like the Inuzuka's or the Hatake's. Although if his mother had been alive she may have had a daughter and the Beast inside Naruto wouldn't be inside Naruto and maybe he wouldn't be looking for a bride to have an heir with. Specially not one from a patriarcal clan. Naruto hones in on the older-looking one. She looks as bored as her father, although Naruto is sure his own face isn't much different. She is pretty, dainty and delicate. Nothing of the things he looks for in a woman. His offspring need to be able to hold in a Beast inside of them, for crying out loud, he would much rather have a mean looking woman like Kiba Inuzuka's mother. Naruto remembers his friend's disgusted face when he had joked to him about it, and his mood is immediately better. He's just taking it out on the daughter because her father is such a stuck-up shit. Naruto's mother had been dainty and delicate, and his grandma Mito is graceful and solemn. Also, he's choosing his bride in order to lengthen his own lifespan, so whatever. Naruto turns slightly towards his right, puts his hands in front of him and presses his head to the triangle they formed, bowing towards the girl. He straightens, "Lady Hinata, I presume?" he says to the older-looking daughter, she gives the tiniest of nods. "It is my honor to be able to-" "Lord Naruto," Hiashi interrupts, and Naruto clenches his jaw. What a man. "Yes, Lord Hiashi?" "I would like to present to you my daughter Hanabi." The girl bows again and looks at Naruto directly into his eyes, "It is my honor to meet you, Lord Naruto." Naruto is confused. He glances towards Hinata, but her eyes are glued to the tatami in front of her. "I have been informed by your father that through this union you seek a partner that can help you maintain your chakra points clean and unburdened." Naruto nods, but he is still confused. "My daughter Hanabi is by far superior in terms of proficiency in the clan's techniques and as such, I believe, a better partner for you, my lord." Hinata hasn't said a peep, and Naruto can feel his very own chakras getting unruly inside of him. This must be a joke. "I do not understand," starts Naruto, "Is Hinata incapable of seeing chakra points?" Hiashi looks flustered, as flustered as he can look without losing his stoic face. "In terms of capability-" "Lady Hinata, are you incapable of using your clan's technique? Are you unable to see chakra points?" Hinata's eyes widen and stare back at Naruto's. "I can, my lord." "Are you incapable of releasing chakra points?" "I am capable of that, my lord." Her voice is reserved, like everything seems to suggest about her, but her eyes now have energy in them, and she can't hide the surprise behind them. "So could you explain to me then, Lord Hiashi, why are you offering your fourteen year old daughter instead of Lady Hinata?" "Naruto," Minato hisses from behind him. But Naruto is repulsed by this man's actions, so he awaits an answer. "As I have stated already, Lord Naruto, in terms of capability my daughter Hanabi is superior than Lady Hinata. I am sorry if me trying to be of use to you has resulted in me overstepping your boundaries." Minato raises, "Excuse me, Lord Hiashi, my ladies, I would like to have a private conversation with my son." Naruto doesn't move from his position and Minato calls him, "My lord." It's the change in tone that makes Naruto move. To anyone else, Minato looks just like a servant calling for his master, but Naruto knows his father is as disgusted as he is, there is irritation in his voice. "If you would excuse me." They walk towards a nearby pond. Everything is carefully positioned in this garden and Naruto tries to clear his head by admiring the place. Minato stops in the middle of a small bridge, just on top of a miniature waterfall. "What was that?" he asks, and Naruto is glad Minato chose a place that can somewhat drown their voices, because he's as shocked as his father. "I know, right? What is he thinking offering his youngest daughter to me? I've always known patriarcal clans were weird, but fuck-" "Naruto." Minato stops him, and his irritation is evident now. Naruto takes a moment to understand. "What?" but he refuses to think that his father is annoyed at him and not the man inside that room. "What are you doing going against Lord Hiashi?" Naruto has to remember to close his mouth. He feels somewhat betrayed, but he's more shocked than anything. "What do you mean? Hinata was the one we came here to see, didn't we?" "If Lord Hiashi says that Lady Hanabi might be a better choice, then why can't you just-" "You expect me to impregnate a 14 year old?" Naruto gets really close to his father. Minato is plenty tall, and usually towers the people around him, but Naruto has grown even taller than him, and he looks like someone that fights for fun, so now it seems like Naruto is threatening the blonde man into submission. "You do not have to have a child so soon," explains Minato. He reigns over his voice and attitude, nothing good will come out of having Naruto riled up. "Right, I have how many years left now? 8? 12?" Minato closes his eyes in pain, because this is exactly the reason why they need a Hyuuga in their family, for them to give Naruto a couple more years. "So I wait till she's of age, make her pregnant and then die a few years later, leaving her alone and with a child she will not know how to care for." "Our clan would never leave your child-" "If I am forced to have a family, then I want to at least be there for them!" Minato can't look Naruto in the eye. As Head of the family his expectations are far greater than Minato could ever understand, and if he wishes to be present... Minato understands. "Just control your temper, all right? We don't want Lord Hiashi withdrawing from this deal."

⁂

Hiashi and his daughters seem to have remained still since the moment they left the room. Naruto can't find a hair out of place and he can feel his annoyance growing again, but his father's words are at the back of his head. Naruto kneels in his spot and bows. "We appreciate your opinions in the matter, Lord Hiashi, and we appreciate your worry over the matter." Hiashi looks pleased, and Naruto has to remember to breath in and out, "I would like to have a one on one meeting with Lady Hinata, if you would let me." Hiashi's microscopic smile disappears. "As you wish, my lord." Minato leaves with everyone. He had told Naruto not to piss off Lord Hiashi, but at the end of the day, the decision regarding his bride and future wife must be his. Hinata remains as still as a statue. She had expected Lord Naruto to choose her sister, but now he is looking at her and Hinata doesn't know what to do. "Lady Hinata," Naruto starts, and Hinata breathes out the tiniest yes he has ever heard. "May I ask you to look at my chakra points and release the ones you feel are the most strained, please?" "Yes, my lord." By the way she had been conducting herself, Naruto would have thought she would have more trouble with his request. He half expected her to fumble while doing her work and actually to suck a little bit at it. But Hinata moves closer to him, keeping herself at arms length now and raises her hand to the front of her face with only her index and middle finger up, a usual hand gesture when using one's chakra. She mumbles a word beneath her breath that Naruto doesn't catch and the veins around her white eyes -characteristic to the Hyuuga- bulge out. Naruto can't look away from her eyes and he isn't sure she catches him staring. Hinata moves her eyes across his body and after a while she releases her technique. She doesn't look winded or tired, Naruto notices. "May I help you with your haori, Lord Naruto?" "Sure." Naruto notices his choice of words immediately, but Hinata pays no attention to it. She stands up and helps him take off his jacket, he feels refreshed instantly. "From what I have seen, Lord Naruto, the most restrained chakra points right now are in you upper back, chest and right thigh." Naruto nods along, because he has no way to confirm that information. "I need to put my hands in said parts of your body, may I?" "You may, Lady Hinata." The woman kneels behind him and presses her hands on his back. Naruto straightens even more, she whispers behind him again and starts moving her right hand in between his shoulder blades. She stops in one point and leaves only two of her fingers making contact. Naruto expects a jolt of chakra, a prick, pressure, anything, but he feels nothing and the next moment he feels his muscles relaxing. He feels better without knowing that he had felt bad before. "What the-?" "Lord Naruto?" Hinata moves to his side, as quick as her kimono lets her. Her hand is in his shoulder and the other hovers near his chest. He's hunched over and Hinata feels the tears coming. She did everything correctly, she may not be as good as her sister, but even she can close and release chakra points. Any child in the clan can close and release chakra points. Closing and releasing chakra points is the cornerstone of the Hyuuga clan and no one, in the history of the clan, has ever been unable to at least be able to use that technique. But this is her we're talking about, the weakest of the heiresses in history, so it is not that far-fetched for her to be the first ever to blunder such basic of the basics. "Lord Naruto?" Naruto raises his head with a delighted sigh, "That felt great," he can barely believe something so small is able to make him feel so much better. He looks at Hinata with surprise and stops on his tracks as he sees her face. She breathes in a shaky breath, presses her lips in order to stop them from trembling and does her best to smile, "I am glad, Lord Naruto." "I'm sorry," Naruto says immediately, "did I scare you? I'm sorry." Hinata shakes her head no and stands to move in front of him. Her legs feel weak but she carries on. What a disgrace. "No." If she wasn't so much of a failure then she would have never even entertained the thought that she could possibly hurt him with a bad executed technique. The fact that she even doubted herself is enough to send her spiraling into despair, and the fact that she may have disgraced herself in front of the Head of the Uzumaki is eating at her. "Pl-please think n-nothing of it, my lord." There is silence and Hinata would gladly throw herself to the ponds outside, shame herself in another way that was not her stupid stutter. She hates everything, maybe if he had chosen her sister then she wouldn't be making such a fool of herself. Maybe if her father hadn't shamed her for not being her sister, she wouldn't have such a problem with her speech when pressured. Maybe if she was better, then none of this would be even a problem. She sits in front of Naruto and presses her hands to his chest. She may be a failure and of no consequence but she was going to do what he had asked of her at least. If he would rather have a perfect, free-of-stutter wife then he could choose her sister. Why didn't he just go with her sister and save her the shame? Hinata releases the chakra point and Naruto makes a point of thanking her. Hinata barely hears him, ready to leave the room and for her father and sister to come back and change his mind. Her movements are practiced and she finishes soon. Thank god. She is ready for Naruto to dismiss her with a wave of his hand, but he only kneels. "I can see that you are more than capable of releasing chakra points, Lady Hinata. Thank you. May I know why you father decided to propose your sister instead of you?" Hinata knows this spiel by heart, "Her proficiency-" "You seem to be capable enough." "She's f-faster," Hinata wishes he would just let her go, "more controlled." "May I be blunt, Lady Hinata?" Hinata raises her eyes and breathes out a yes. "I am in need of an heir." Hinata can feel her cheeks heating. "I have no desire to wed a child, and although you and your father seem to be of the mind that Lady Hanabi is better at using your clan's technique, if she is only faster and more controlled in doing what you have just showed me, I have no interest in that. May I know what you know about my clan?" Hinata and her sister studied what they could find about the Uzumaki's, but like any high-positioned clan, they could only find basic information. "Only what is c-common knowledge, my lord." "In that case, I would love for you to get to know my clan before you make your decision, my lady. I would be honored to receive you and move forward with our relationship with marriage in mind. If you would accept my invitation, It would be my pleasure to have you in my compound starting next week." Hinata is puzzled. "My father..." "The Uzumaki are a matriarchal clan, my lady, and in matriarchal clans the decisions are made with the people affected by them, other people are inconsequential. Of course, I will repeat what I said to you word by word to your father, Lady Hinata, I know the ways of this clan." Naruto stands up and waits for Hinata to rise before getting his haori. Hinata moves her hands to help him put his jacket on without thinking. She is still shocked at Naruto's decision. Before they leave the room, Naruto stops in front of the shoji door and turns to her. He towers over her and in any other occasion she would feel anxious by this situation. "It has been my pleasure meeting you, my lady, I shall talk with your father about my proposal and await your answer." Hinata looks at him and nods as an answer. "Just keep in mind, Lady Hinata," Naruto moves his hand under her chin and raises her face to him, "we are not beyond kidnapping our brides and grooms if their decisions are faced with opposition."

⁂

As Naruto and Minato leave the compound, her father stands next to her with displeasure oozing out of him. And maybe this is just the shock talking or the comfort of not knowing what is to come. But Hinata feels the itch to run away.

#Naruto #naruhina #fanfiction #Beast Tamers #ch.1 #I'm gonna be real people I started this because Naruto and Hinata live rent free in my mind and I wanted to write them doing the do #Then the plot followed. Don't expect them to be doing the do every chapter though!! lol

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 3 years

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Meeting and Dating Paul Sheldon

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You and Paul met through his agent. You worked as a freelance illustrator so when Marcia contacted you with the offer of a lifetime; illustrating the front cover of one of the bestselling novel series in the country, you were obviously more than happy to accept.

- So, the two of you have some meetings about what he wants for the cover, he immediately finds himself attracted to you and you to him, and the two of you dance around your feelings at every little book party that you’re both invited to.

- He spends quite a bit of time trying to flatter you, complimenting your work, telling you that you look lovely, etc. He brushes off all of your compliments but boy does he love them.

- He asks you out after the next book in the Misery series gets published. You’d received a call in the afternoon, inviting you out to dinner with him; to “celebrate”, and telling you that he couldn’t have done it without you. Considering the fact that you’d been in love with the man for a good few months, you happily agreed.

- For your first date, the two of you have dinner at an upscale restaurant. You talk and get to know each other better, both of you realizing that you’re even more compatible than you initially thought. You’re eager to agree to see him again as you’re saying goodbye, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before getting into your taxi.

- A few more dates and the two of you are official, sharing your first kiss on your third date. You’d invited him in for some coffee after the two of you went out to eat and as you were sitting together, you’d both slowly leaned in and shared a long kiss; and possibly more.

- And so, the author finds his perfect partner in crime.

- Paul is a bit of a public figure; and a supposedly sophisticated one at that, so he tries his best to look classy and proper in public. This means that he’s reserved in his Pda, usually trying to show that you’re together while staying “proper.”

- His arm around your waist or his hand on the smll of your back. He likes keeping you close to his side; especially if you’re at an even together.

- His hand resting on top of yours or innocently on your thigh/knee; usually innocently at least.

- Temple kisses.

- Wrist and hand kisses.

- Long, slow kisses. He’s a romantic at heart so they’re right up his alley.

- Soft, gentle kisses.

- Sitting on his lap.

- Cuddling in the crook of his arm. He likes feeling your arms wrapped around his middle and the weight of you head on his shoulder/chest; it keeps him grounded.

- He’s sort of old fashioned so he usually calls you things like darling and dear.

- Getting an insider look at his life. He’s got quite a few interesting stories to tell.

- He’s used to the finer things in life; and he’s sort of old fashioned, so that means that he’s grown to behave like a gentleman when it comes to his women. He’ll help you put on your coat, open doors, pull out chairs, etc. It’s really quite sweet.

- He insists that he’s fine whenever he’s sick but he still acts like he’s dying pretty much every time he gets a cold.

- He knows all your quirky little interests and likes to humor you with them, getting you gifts or taking you places that revolve around them. He likes the way your face lights up whenever he does.

- Going out to buy him paper. You’re always given a kiss and called something along the line of “an Angel”.

- Bringing him food while he’s writing and making sure he gets some sleep; rather than constantly staying up until the early hours of the morning.

- Happily greeting him back when he comes home from his trips.

- Getting to read the early stages of his books. He likes knowing your opinion, it’s one of the few that he legitimately takes seriously regardless of how literarily gifted you are.

- Celebrating with champagne after he finishes a story.

- Every time he gets a story published, he’ll get you a little something and say that he couldn’t have done it without you, whether it be a bracelet, ring, necklace or something entirely different.

- Going to all his book events with him. You’re sort of like a trophy wife for him, even if you don’t think you’re good enough to be one, he sure thinks you are.

- Helping him deal with the trauma he undoubtedly develops after his time with Annie. There’s going to be quite a few nightmares and thinly veiled panic attacks.

- Something tells me that Paul was never an incredibly outgoing person but after the whole Wilkes ordeal, he especially prefers to stay inside with you rather than go out.

- Trips to cabins and other places; he probably prefers somewhere sunny after he returns home from his latest trip.

- Lazy morning spent inside.

- Window shopping together. Occasionally, the two of you will go get coffees and just walk around town, seeing what’s new and enjoying each other’s company.

- Singing along to the radio with him. Speaking of: he’ll probably want you to drive after he gets into his ...accident.

- Visiting the city. The two of you go sightseeing, visit zoos, go to baseball games, etc. It’s a nice break from your usual atmosphere.

- Going out to dinner with him.

- Nights spent by the fire.

- Snowball fights.

- Sarcasm. It helps if you can dish it right back so go on ahead if you can.

- Having his daughter over for the holidays.

- Your mother is probably quite the fan of him considering she’s probably the target audience of his whole Misery series.

- Flattery. He’s very skilled in the art of ass kissing.

- Your praise fuels him. He’ll always try to squeeze more out of you yet act all humble at the same time.

- He’s sentimental so he has a bunch of photos and keepsakes from different points in your relationship.

- He can usually notice when somethings off and is fairly good at consoling you. It always seems like he knows exactly what to say to make you feel better.

- Paul’s not a jealous person. He’s on the older side of the age spectrum by now; he’s more mature, and he’s secure enough in himself and your relationship to know you’d never do anything to hurt him. He might; occasionally, not like someone because he thinks they have a bit of a thing for you, but he lets you handle it and trusts your judgment.

- He’s not incredibly protective but he’ll defend you and your honor if it really comes down to it. Plus, depending on your age, his fatherly instincts may occasionally take over and he’ll find himself scolding you.

- He’s pretty good at keeping himself under control so the two of you don’t fight very often. If anything, you bicker every now and again before you settle things or just forget about it.

- He doesn’t mind apologizing when he’s in the wrong, if it’s his fault then it’s his fault, right? If you’re in the wrong than he’d expect you to apologize as well.

- Paul’s somewhat reserved when it comes to telling you that he loves you. He likes for the words to mean something; and he’s just not the type of person to say those three little words in general. That being said: he’s sort of a hypocrite because he loves hearing you say you love him.

- Well, there’s certainly a few bumps coming up in the road, but overall, you’re going to have a nice life with him.

#misery imagine #misery headcanons #misery headcanon #misery imagines #paul sheldon imagine #paul sheldon headcanons #paul sheldon headcanon #90s movie headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie headcanons #90s movie imagines

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noctuaas · 3 years

Text

AS YOU WISH; t. kuroo

synopsis; in this tale of romance, revenge, and treason, you, a beautiful commoner, are set to become the princess of aobajousai. will your one true love be able to save you in time?

pairing; kuroo tetsurou x reader

content; princess bride au (heavily based on both the movie and novel), medieval au, torture, mild violence, drama, fantasy/adventure, murder, fem!reader

fic navigation

01 ; THE BRIDE

TO BE THE MOST beautiful girl in the world was a concept far past your concern. Those around you certainly saw the potential, but at 16 years old, you simply could not care less to capitalize on your natural beauty. (Beauty routines were exhausting in your eyes. You only washed your face so as not to feel filthy, taking a razor to your leg hair was far more trouble than it seemed worth, and you were quite sick of brushing your hair, so you did so as little as possible.) All you really wanted to do was ride your horse and pester the farm boy that worked for your parents.

Prince, as you had taken to calling the horse when he was just a yearling, was a loyal companion. Other girls your age grew attached to one of their herding dogs’ pups, or the kitten of a barn cat, but you had Prince. He always came when you called, steered where you told him even on a loose rein, nuzzled your face on bad days.

For all the time you spent taunting and bossing the farm boy around—“Farm Boy, fetch me this,” and “Farm Boy, take care of that,”—he always had one thing in common with the horse: he always did as he was told.

(Perhaps you knew that he was really a young man now—he was a year or two older than you—but he had been just an orphaned boy when he first came to work for your father, so that was what you referred to him as: Farm Boy.)

“As you wish,” he always replied, without fail.

Your father was fond of the farm boy, often remarking how he should leave him an acre of land in his will for all his hard work. These conversations never lasted long though, not before your parents would turn to you and chide you for needing to go bathe again and clean yourself up after spending the day in the barn.

Despite your disdain for taking care of yourself like a “proper lady,” as your mother liked to say, your natural beauty was still enough to cause the village boys to flock to you. Those dimwits always liked to badger you with stupid questions whenever you rode into town, offering silly favors and making awkward small talk, much to dismay of the rest of the girls in the village. The boys were always so annoying, and you often noted how much more tolerable Farm Boy was as you dismissed their advances. Eventually they took to making fun of you, laughing over snide remarks about you because they must have been embarrassed about being shot down. Sometimes the insults were too much to ignore, and when that was the case, Farm Boy took matters into his own hands. You always thanked him after he sent a village boy home bloodied and crying, and he always answered, “As you wish.”

You came to realize that Farm Boy was the only boy your age whose presence you seemed to enjoy. One night, you lied awake with the dim light from a full moon crawling through your window, thinking about how he was always kind and respectful to you, how he protected you and your honor, how he seemed to smile at you differently than he ever smiled at the other girls in town. (You also let yourself admit that he was quite handsome, with his amber eyes and ebony hair that was always in a perfect bedhead state, which was something you had never bothered caring about before.)

After that, your time was no longer divided between riding your horse and pestering the farm boy; now, ‘pestering’ was to be replaced with ‘falling for’. You let him join you on rides through the woods on Prince; you began doing your morning reading in the barn to keep him company while he fed the animals; you took it upon yourself to take out any extra supper your mother cooked to him. You even decided to stop calling him ‘Farm Boy’.

“What’s your actual name, Farm Boy?” you asked out of the blue.

“Why do you ask?” he had replied, and you snorted in mild amusement.

“Well, after having known you all these years, it must be quite rude of me to still call you ‘Farm Boy’.”

He paused and grinned that endearing grin of his, “Just call me Kuroo, then.”

Everything was so blissful for the year following. You loved Kuroo, and he loved you. Even on the day the royal Count and Countess of Aobajousai had strangely paid your family a visit, you both were sure of this; because while the Countess took Kuroo’s arm gently for him to show her the dairy cows and the Count watched you intently as you followed the small procession on your horse, you and Kuroo both stared at each other.

At the end of one year though, Kuroo unexpectedly showed up at your window in the middle of the night.

“I’ve come to say goodbye.”

You shot up straight in your bed, cocking your head incredulously, “What do you mean, ‘goodbye’?”

“I mean I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? Have I done—”

“I’m taking to the sea to seek my fortune,” he cut you off. “There’s a ship that sails out of Karasuno, to the new country of Inarizaki. There’s great opportunity there, so I’m going.”

You were shell-shocked for a moment. Leaving? Sailing to Inarizaki? Where was this all coming from?

“But why? What about the farm? What about us?” You finally said. Your voice was already beginning to quiver pathetically as tears brimmed in your eyes.

“I’ve been training at night, so I hardly need sleep or food, and I’ll get two 10-hour-a-day jobs. I’m gonna save every penny, and in just a couple years I’ll have enough to buy a big farm and build a brand new house just for the two of us.”

“For the two of us?” Your brows furrowed and your voice was meek.

“Yes, (y/n). I love you. All these years I’ve stayed here because of you. I’ve taught myself foreign languages, made my body strong, everything, for you. I’ve been head over heels for you since I was a kid. Do you understand what I’m saying, or should I keep going?”

(By now, Kuroo had squeezed his broad frame through your window, somehow landing gracefully on the floor and sliding next to you on your bed so he could wipe away your tears with his thumb. It was a good thing he was athletic enough to do so quietly, because if your parents caught him in your room, all hell might break loose.)

“Never stop,” you mumbled dreamily.

“There hasn’t been a day—”

“You better not be teasing me, Kuroo, or I’ll have your hide,” you broke in this time. Kuroo loved to tease you, and it was normally all in good fun, but if that was the case now, then he was taking it way too far.

“I’d never joke about loving you,” he replied. “Remember all those years when you would tell me, ‘Farm Boy, do this, Farm Boy, do that’? What did I always say?”

“‘As you wish’.”

“Well, that’s just what you thought I was saying. I was actually saying ‘I love you’,” Kuroo smiled gently and ran his fingers through your hair.

All that time? You couldn’t even recall the first time Kuroo started saying ‘As you wish’ to all your commands, but apparently he had been in love with you. Before you had ever even noticed him, he was devoted to you. It sounded like a fairy tale.

“I love you too, Kuroo. I’ll never stop loving you, I swear,” you finally said.

“I’ll hold you to it, princess. I have to go now if I want to make it to Karasuno in time, but I’ll send for you soon. Promise.”

You nodded in understanding, but you couldn’t let him leave without one last kiss.

There had been five great kisses since the beginning of time. Though the precise rating of kisses is a bit convoluted and controversial (everyone knows that the formula for a great kiss is comprised of timing, affection, intensity, and duration, but there has never been a universal agreement on each element’s weight), there was no doubt that this kiss left every other in the dust.

The following morning, all you wanted to do was lay around and mope. It was perfectly justifiable, considering the love of your life had just left the country, and you wouldn’t see him for God knows how long. You wallowed in self pity for about an hour before realizing that Kuroo was out in the great big world now, and with as handsome as he was, he would surely have women throwing themselves at him.

What if all this moping destroys my beauty, and when he sends for me, I’ll arrive in Inarizaki, and he’ll take one look at me and send me back?

“Mother,” you ran downstairs, interrupting whatever petty argument your parents were having. “I need your advice. How can I better take care of my appearance?”

“You’ve never cared about your appearance, honey. Why are you asking this all of a sudden?”

“Well, I’m nearly 18 now. I figure it’s about time I start behaving a little more like a lady,” you lied. It was enough to appease your mother, and she grabbed your arm and began dragging you to the washroom in delight.

You quickly learned that taking such care of yourself was hard work; the saying, ‘beauty is pain,’ made an awful lot of sense now. But for Kuroo, nothing was too much. Every morning, you awoke at dawn to start the farm chores. You had to pick up all the slack left by Kuroo, so there wasn’t really any time for self-improvement until the afternoon, but once you started, you took it very seriously. Daily baths, simple exercises, and all the time it took to brush your hair out perfectly before bed.

If the whole town thought you were beautiful before, now they all knew you must be a contender for the most beautiful girl in the world. You, however, still had no care for how beautiful the rest of the world found you; as long as Kuroo found you beautiful. (In the coming years, you would learn that you were beautiful no matter what, and simplify your beauty routine to what you liked. As long as you felt clean and tidy, that was sufficient.)

Kuroo wrote you letters every few months, and you kept every one of them. Sometimes people would ask you how he was doing, which was a mistake unless they had a lot of spare time, because you could talk about him for hours. It was obvious that you were completely and utterly in love, and so the village boys eventually stopped trying, and the village girls warmed back up to you.

It made sense the way Kuroo’s death hit you the way it did.

The news reached your parents first. The Count (a new fellow named Iwaizumi, appointed by Prince Oikawa shortly after the last one’s death) was sent to your farm to deliver the news since it was Kuroo’s last known place of residence. You were returning from town on your horse when Count Iwaizumi was leaving your property.

“Miss,” he nodded politely as you crossed paths. You rode on in confusion, and the new Count watched you intently, much like the last one.

When you made it into the house, both your parents hushed up and looked at you with pity.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s The Crow’s Wing, darling. It was attacked,” your mother told you.

Kuroo’s ship was attacked? You furrowed your brows, “What?”

“Pirates. In the night,” your father explained.

You knew the trip across the sea would be dangerous, but you never thought it would happen to him. Sliding into a chair, you decided it might be best to sit down.

The room was quiet until you managed to squeak out, “So Kuroo’s been taken prisoner, then?”

A long sigh from your parents, and then, a, “No.”

“It was the Dread Pirate Nekomata.”

You blinked, willing back tears. The Dread Pirate Nekomata was the most famous pirate in all the world, and he never took prisoners. In all these years in his reign of terror, no one survived an attack from the Dread Pirate Nekomata.

You went to your room, and this time around, you allowed yourself to mope. For six days, you sulked, and cried, and mourned. Not once did you come out of your room, so your parents took to leaving food outside your door, which you only ever picked at meekly. During those six days in your room, you decided you would never love again.

#ITS HAPPENING YES #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu imagine #hq fanfic #hq x reader #hq imagine #hq scenario #kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo imagine #kuroo fanfic #kuroo scenario #my writing

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100hearteyes · 3 years

Text

First chapter of a fic I will likely never continue. Canon divergent. Unedited and riddled with typos. ~5k words.

Lexa straightens her posture as her horse halts just after the forest and at the first sign of civilization ahead. It huffs and hits the soil with one of its hoofs, expressing its disquiet. She shares the sentiment; Skaikru are very much an odd and unpredictable body in the grand scheme of things still.

The Sky clan had been at war with Trikru for over a decade since falling to earth, seeing as they had occupied Lexa's people's land,whrnh the Ice Nation offered them an alliance. Trikru yielded, aware that fighting both clans at once would be foolish. At the time, the Commander was from the Blue Cliff clan and no more than a religious figure, indifferent to the quells between clans. Lexa has changed that over the past few years — and is intent on continuing to do so.

"Heda." She turns her head only slightly to her right, just enough to be able to look at Gustus from the corner of her eye. "I do not have a good feeling about this."

"We both know that if it were up to you I would be locked up in the tower and never come out." She softens, regards her bodyguard fully. "You worry too much, Gustus. The Sky People will be a valuable asset for the Coalition."

"They think themselves superior just because they have guns and tech," he counters with distrust. "They are dishonourable in combat and gloat about it."

"The Coalition needs them," Lexa snaps, and that is the end of it. "And, hopefully, they need the Coalition, too."

Arkadia, capital of the Sky clan, is by all means an impressive sight, very different to anything Lexa has ever seen. Everything is metal and a heavy grey; from the wall protecting it to the pair of guard lookout towers, to the massive gates with the 'Arkadia' lettering on top. From her elevated position, Lexa can see a main building that rises slightly above the wall and takes up about a quarter of the whole area, and other smaller buildings sprinkled about the space left vacant by it. It is evident that while the Arkadians had no say on the positioning of the main building, they planned the city around it, since everything else is so geometrically placed, including the grey dirt roads that trace an intricate cobweb that winds through the empty spaces and gives the city an air of concrete orderliness. However, everything pales in comparison to the giant wheel propped just to the side of the main building, presumably what was once meant to surround the ship that Sky People lived in up in space before they fell to earth. It is clearly one of the few things that have resisted the decades unadulterated, even if it has been repurposed, as Lexa assumes from the sillhouettes of people climbing up and down its inner arms. It is a formidable sight, even for those more averse to the marvels of the world that Skaikru left back in space and have ever since tried to recreate on Earth. Nonetheless, Arkadia as a whole is an obtrusive presence in the midst of the greenery and unwavering power of nature. It makes Lexa almost squirm on her saddle, uncomfortable with such a demonstration of stubborn inadaptation — no village, town, or city should be so violently at odds with its surroundings.

They approach the city slowly and with only half the warriors she brought along, so as to indicate that they mean no harm — and make sure no one will frame it otherwise. Lexa's retinue is mostly made up of warriors, amongst them her personal guards, but she was also careful to include two of her most trusted diplomats; people who will negotiate in her stead when need be and will work to make sure that those on her side remain there. They are people who work the complicated web of politics and favor better even than her.

As they come closer to Arkadia, its inhabitants crowd close to the walls, looking at Lexa and her crew as though they are wild, fascinating animals. Such is the consequence of isolation. Lexa watches as a small group gathers just outside the walls and recognises Marcus Kane, chancellor of the Sky People, at the head of the greeting party.

Finally her group come to a stop just a few feet from the Arkadians and Markus of the Sky People steps up to greet Lexa with a genuine, welcoming smile. "Commander," he says in greeting and extends his hand. "It's such a great honor to have your visit."

She nods and grips his forearm. Marcus of the Sky People is a pleasant man, both in appearance and personality. His luscious hair and thick beard frame kind eyes and a jovial smile that make him extremely likable. Soft-spoken and invested in every conversation he takes part in regardless of its actual importance, Marcus of the Sky People is a dependable fatherly figure. He is also fierce and wise, however, and Lexa likes him even more for that.

"Chancellor Marcus Kane," she greets back, careful to use his full name, as Sky People do. "Thank you for receiving us on such short notice."

She lets go of his arm and lets her hand rest on the pommel of her sword. "We're just lucky you're here at all," he replies honestly, then turns to the rest of his group. "Please give your warmest welcome to the Commander, Lexa kom Trikru." She appreciates the effort to use her mother tongue — details like that can make the difference between a successful deal and a failed one, for it builds bridges where there are none. Marcus is a proficient builder of diplomatic bridges.

The first person to step forward is a woman in her forties like Marcus, though the lines of her face are more tired and severe. She looks like a woman who looks death in the face every day and when she extends her calloused hand for a greeting, Lexa realises that is exactly the case. "I'm Abby Griffin." Lexa clasps Abby's forearm and she spies a special brand of kindness in brown eyes that tells her that this woman is not only a caretaker, but also a mother. "I'm a council member and Chief Doctor of Arkadia and Skaikru in general."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Lexa says as Abby takes a step back and a new member of the greeting party comes forward. "Raven, I assume," Lexa nods, clued in by the girl's oil-splattered cheek. "Your fame precedes you, tech master."

The girl beams, dark eyes shining brightly, and salutes. Her ponytail swings with the movement. "At your service, Commander. I hope your visit proves fruitful."

"That makes two of us, Raven of the Sky People."

"I'm Bellamy Blake." Lexa turns to the man that has stepped forward and clasps his outstretched hand instead of his forearm. She can tell that this is a man who likes things done his way; insecure enough to need to underline his status. "I'm in charge of all things military and security."

"A general, then," Lexa recognises. "Are you Octavia Blake's fabled brother?" She is careful to use her Sky People surname and not her Trikru suffix lest he become even less friendly.

His nose crinkles and his freckles dance angrily beneath dark eyes and unruly, short curls of hair. "Haven't seen her in almost a year since she got it in her head that she wants to be a barbarian."

Lexa lets the comment slide. "She is a fine warrior. My people are very lucky to have her."

He grunts and gives way to the next council member, a middle-aged woman with a gentle smile but a fear of the unknown in the way she clasps Lexa's forearm. "Hannah Green. Farming, hunting, and other resources," the woman greets. "Council member, too."

Lexa nods her acknowledgement and watches as Hannah kom Skaikru steps backward. Her replacements are two tall, robust men, their dark skin, eyes, and mannerisms nearly identical, though the younger one is more genuine while the older one has an air of arrogance about him.

"I'm Wells Jaha and this is my father, Thelonious," the young man says pleasantly, and Lexa likes him right away. She clasps Wells's forearm, then Thelonious's, and even their grips are different. How can two men look so alike and yet behave so differently?

Just from the introductions, Lexa is slightly worried. Bellamy, Abby, Hannah, and Thelonious will vote against entering the Coalition; a number that exceeds that of Marcus, Raven, and Wells. The chancellor has the deciding vote, but it will be for naught if the numbers do not even out.

The final person steps forward at last. A girl around Lexa's age, with blonde hair and determined blue eyes. "My name is Clarke," the girl greets, her voice husky and only moderately welcoming. Lexa studies the girl, looks for twitches and tells, but cannot read her at all. It is worrying; the last thing she needs at this point is a wildcard. She can tell, however, that her own first impression is lacking. "I'm in charge of urban and regional planning, and foreign affairs." Lexa extends her arm for greeting, but Clarke leaves her hanging. A golden, sceptical eyebrow is quirked and Clarke's eyes are narrowed, and it is all Lexa can do not to growl at such insolence. "Let me decide first if you're worth shaking hands with."

Lexa takes a deep breath and tells herself that punishing Clarke kom Skaikru's impertinence is not worth wasting the chance to draw the Sky People into her Coalition. So she purses her lips and clasps her hands behind her back, letting her posture straighten and her chin rise with defiant authority. Her eyes burn into Clarke's. "Very well." She turns to Marcus, who seems to have blanched considerably. "Please lead me to my quarters, Marcus of the Sky People. The day has been long and we have much to discuss tomorrow. I would like to rest."

~~~~

Arkadia isn't home. But it also is, because she has never known another place. Nevertheless, she has never felt at home inside its dull grays, angry lights, and obstinate refusal to fully mesh with its surroundings.

Clarke isn't one to fantasise about what could be; she locks her dreams inside drawings of another life and lives what is instead. There is no space, no time to wonder on the ground.

Still she can't help musing about a world where she would be able to travel between clans freely and adopt another as her own. She can't help musing about a world where they wouldn't have to fend off attacks from the other clans, even if the Ice Nation has helped them through the more difficult times. That is exactly why she finds the idea of a coalition so appealing — it's eating away at her, however, to entertain the idea of it being led by a tyrant like Commander Lexa.

She's heard all the stories and she knows which ones are true. She knows of the Commander's thirst for glory and power. She knows of her ruthlessness and disregard for human life. She knows of the Commander's penchant for spilling blood and autocratic style. She knows and she saw it all in the Commander's conceited bearing, in the cold press of full lips, in the raised chin of a despot; she saw it in the way the Commander's eyes flashed with anger, the only display of emotion during an otherwise frigid interaction.

Yet the cry for change reverberates through the halls of Arkadia, which thrums with the need to be more. And Clarke... Clarke wants the best for her people. Always. So if she deems joining the Coalition the right step to take, she will vote for it no matter how tough a pillow it will be to swallow.

Another tough pill to swallow? Kane's reproach for the way she talked to the Commander.

"It was unacceptable, Clarke. You embarrassed the Commander and risked being beheaded on the spot." It means something when Zen Kane gives you such a talking-to. "You shamed us all."

"Stop right there, Marcus." Oh, yes. Your mother defending you does make the situation a hundred times better. It's not at all ignored for being biased. "I think you're being unfair. Yes, Clarke should've minced her words, but she didn't same us."

Kane's eye roll is exactly the reaction Clarke's expected. "Look, Abby. I know you're her mother—"

Abby's affronted look is even more predictable. "This has nothing to do with—"

"Enough!" Kane and Abby as well as the rest of the council look at her. Clarke looks at each of the six other faces sitting around the semicircle-shaped table and then at Kane, who stands alone at the straight side of it. She sighs. "I made a mistake. I put us in a difficult position. I'm sorry."

Kane nods his approval. The small, dark room lends him a more solemn, even poetic appearance, and the way he cups his bearded chin while he thinks makes him look like a philosopher. "Thank you for acknowledging your mistake, Clarke," he says kindly as he lays a companionable hand on her shoulder. "There will have to be consequences, however."

She expected nothing less. Despite the little show she put on before the Commander, Clarke knows her place. "I understand, Chancellor," she nods, and feels more insecure the moment his fatherly hand leaves her shoulder. Her dad died years ago and no one will ever replace him, but the way Kane behaves towards her reminds her a little bit of what it was like to have a father. She's grateful for it; she misses the comfort of her dad's hugs and the pride in his smile.

The moments before he finally doles out her punishment remind her why she doesn't like this room — it's cold and dark and has an ominous feeling to it that makes her feel trapped. Like everything discussed in her is always too serious. It often is. She much prefers the strategy meeting room with its rectangular, waist-high table that causes them to stay standing and its glass-like boards with maps and notes written into them with colorful pens. It's also larger — so much larger. It's better illuminated, too.

Finally Kane stops thinking and meets her eyes. "You will be the Commander's shadow. An ambassador. You will show Arkadia and whatever else necessary to her and you will be her guide around here. You will make sure she has everything she needs and you will handle everything relating to her presence here."

Clarke can't help but scoff. "You mean I'll be her damn babysitter," she challenges.

"Yes," Kane acquiesces, not giving in an inch. "That's exactly what you will be."

"You can't be serious," she presses, because this is too heavy a punishment for her offence.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, then scratches at the side of his beard. "Look at it this way: you will be able to get to know her and her culture better and it might help shape your vote. I know you're the only one of us who hasn't made up her mind yet," he notes with a meaningful look. And yes, he's right. Actually, her vote is pretty damn important because with the way things are it will decide the Sky People's fate altogether. "It might help you decide that being a part of the Coalition is nothing but trouble for us, or it might actually change your mind and show you that the Commander's intentions are not so bad after all. Whatever the outcome, it will have been a good experience."

Clarke knows he's right, but she can't imagine spending two weeks with the Commander and not confirming that she is indeed a bloodthirsty savage. Alas, she owes it to her people to at least try.

"Fine."

~~~~

Lexa is not unused to the bustle of early morning, the sounds of the city rousing to life outside, the doors that open and close and the voices that speak in hushed tones so as not to wake those sleeping. They often wake her anyway. What she is unused to are the boots that clank on metal, that fans that whir along the halls, and the flickering, buzzing light provided not by candles but by a hollow opening in the ceiling.

She left Anya outside of Arkadia to set up camp with the rest of her retinue. Gustus came with her, along with a handful of warriors and diplomats. Despite reason, she does not think they will be at risk inside the walls of the ally of their enemy. Besides, having Gustus by her side — or in this case, in the next room — is like having an army of twenty. Lexa trusts him with her life and that of those she loves most. There was only one time when she trusted him and he could not keep someone she loved safe. It wasn't his fault, despite the tears of guilt and regret that ran down his face when he came back, battered and bloody and without Lexa's lover. It took weeks for his wounds to heal enough for him to leave his bed. Months later, he would finally admit that it had not been ten warriors he had had to fight off, but thirty. Lexa never blamed him, never even imagined blaming him for what happened. There are only two people she has ever blamed for it — one of them is herself.

Lexa gets ready for the day in motions automated by the years. She resents Skaikru for not having proper bathtubs; she doesn't dare touch what the server girl from last night called a shower, so she foregoes washing altogether. There is a river nearby she can bathe in anyway. Once her pauldron is resting on her shoulder, its weight and looping red sash a permanent reminder of her station, Lexa leaves her bedroom, only to register with disapproval that the Sky Council did not assign anyone to guard her door. Instead she finds Gustus waiting for her, no doubt already having sent whoever he assigned to her door away. "Heda," he greets with a bow. "How was your night?"

"As would be expected," she replies, keeping her face neutral as she notices Marcus's approach. He sends her a warm smile.

"Commander." They clasp forearms with comfortable formality. "I hope you had a good night's sleep."

"The mattress was stiff. But I have spent much worse nights in foreign clans." It is both criticism and a compliment, and she knows it leaves Marcus slightly disconcerted albeit resolute to make sure her next night is better. It keeps him on his toes without outright insulting his hospitality.

"We'll look into the matter." A pause, then another smile. "In the meantime, I'm sure you would like to eat, Commander?" He waits for Lexa to nod before leading her and Gustus through numerous halls, walking by doors left and right. Lexa peers curiously as they pass by a by room lined with tables and people eating. "That's the mess hall, where almost everyone eats, but I'm sure you'd like to have a more... discreet meal, if you will. I've arranged for breakfast in my office."

"I wouldn't mind eating with your people, Marcus," she says truly as they come to a stop at a door, two staircases later. He fishes a key from his pocket and inserts it in the hole.

"Of course, Commander. But just for today, for your very first meal here, I thought you would appreciate something not as overwhelming."

"I do," she nods.

He opens the door for her and she stops into a room with a wooden desk and a mismatched chair next to the far wall. A battered couch sits against one of the walls to one side and on the other are several maps and eerily realistic paintings nailed to it. A lamp hanging from the ceiling provides light to the entire office and an open door near the couch leads them to a more open, free space. Marcus motions for Lexa to enter it and she is pleased to find a small, semicircular room with large, tall windows on the round wall that oversee Arkadia from two stories above. There is a round table in the middle with three chairs around it and several dishes waiting for Lexa's hungry stomach. Looking out the windows again, she wonders if this is a room they had up in space before the Sky People fell to the ground and if they could see the stars and the Earth from there.

"Did you live there? In space?"

Kane is now standing next to her and looking out the windows with his arms being his back, a pose that very much mirrors her own. It takes him almost a minute to reply; when he does, it is not without a sigh she cannot decipher. It sounds like nostalgia laced with relief.

"The Ark fell down about thirty years ago. I was just a kid then, twenty years old and sure that I would become someone important one day. Which I did," he acquiesces with a rueful smile, "but not for the reasons I wanted it then. The ground shaped me. I've spent more years on the ground than I did in space already. I have... changed a lot since then. I was eager, too ambitious, and too overzealous in following the rules. The ground taught me that rules need to be interpreted. I'm still eager," he chuckles, and Lexa almost lets a small smile escape her lips, "but what drives me now is love for my people. I want what's best for them, not for myself. And that," he turns his torso to her with a raised eyebrow and a kind smile, "is why I want the Sky clan to be a part of the Coalition."

"What do I have to do to make sure our common goal is achieved?" Lexa asks with caution as he turns back to the windows. She needs to tread carefully.

"Convince Clarke," Marcus says easily. It is as she thought. "Everyone else has their mind set. I have the deciding vote, but right now we are at a disadvantage. We need her yes to tie with the no's and activate the deciding quality of my vote. Otherwise, it's just a vote. Anyway." He turns to her again and extends an arm towards the table. "Shall we eat? Food's getting cold."

Lexa eats mostly in silence while Marcus tells her stories of the Ark, the stars, and their planet seen from space. She keeps her expression neutral, but is secretly fascinated and hangs on to his every word. She barely notices when she has finished eating and Marcus leads her out of the room. She is shocked out of her awe when he opens the door to his office to reveal none other than Clarke kom Skaikru.

"Commander, I'm sure you remember Clarke Griffin," Marcus says pleasantly. Lexa's eyes do not leave their new company's.

"Yes, our first meeting was... quite memorable."

Clarke has the decency to lower her gaze to the floor in a clear sign of shame. When her eyes return to Lexa's, she sees honesty in them.

"I wanted to apologize for that, Commander. I was unnecessarily rude," Clarke admits, and Lexa has to fight off a triumphant smirk. Instead, she dips her head in wordless assent. An uncomfortable silence spans for several long seconds, before Marcus clears his throat.

"So. Clarke will be your guide here, Commander. She will be at your disposal for anything you need and will help you acclimate to Arkadia. I genuinely hope that all your future interactions will be better than the first." He finishes with a warning glare at Clarke, who once again ducks her head in embarrassment. His attention shifts back to Lexa. "Commander," he nods. She nods back wordlessly and then he's off to somewhere else, leaving her alone with Clarke.

Lexa is not a fan of employing clichés, but the silence is deafening. Neither she nor Clarke know what to say or do now that Marcus is not there to act as a buffer. Eventually, Clarke clears her throat, thus ending their torture.

"I hope you enjoy your stay in Arkadia, Commander. Today, I would like to show you what each sector does around here."

~~~~

First, Clarke takes her to see the farms. Lexa is impressed with the technology they employ, some of it simple enough that the other clans can replicate. They lack the knowledge earned through years of experience, however, and Lexa can visualize how the other clans can help the Sky People complement their scientific expertise with conventional wisdom. The same would be true for hunting if her people were keen on using fire guns. Instead, it is a foregone conclusion that the Sky People have much to learn before they can hunt in an effective way that will truly allow them to live fairly comfortably through the harsher seasons.

During the day, Lexa realises that Clarke is bright and ingenious, though judgemental and opinionated. Lexa can see that the Sky Council member is making an effort, however, so she does not make her job too hard. Clarke talks her through her clan's decision-making process, some general laws and traditions, the way religion evolved on the Ark, and how the ground contributed to diminish the gap between classes.

"We all need to work to survive," Clarke explains. "Some people will always be lazy, some will work more than others, but opportunities are never amiss. If you work hard enough, life will be merciful. Or as merciful as it can be on the ground," she adds as an afterthought. Lexa takes the chance to point out that life can be easier for the Sky People if they ally with her. Clarke counters with a smirking 'maybe' and moves on.

Lexa feels a quiet sense of wonder, muted also byba slight prickle of fear and discomfort, when she first enters the medical aisle. Everything is white and pristine, and there are machines as big as Lexa that both sit the patients down in comfortable seats and lloom over them with big, mechanical arms. There are beds everywhere, an organised chaos of machines, healers, and patients. Lexa feels miserably out of place, but she can't help but marvel at how advanced the Sky People seem to be in terms of medicine. This her people can learn from.

"Raven has managed to build more equipment and make our medical aisle as effective as it can be." Clarke's husky voice provides pleasant commentary on all the technological wonders around them. "A lot of the doctors are still in training, but soon we'll have a hospital ready to answer everyone's needs."

Lexa turns to Clarke, dips her chin in a slight nod. "Our methods are more traditional. We answer many needs, but often find ourselves lacking the means to further our expertise. Our healers could learn a lot from yours," she says. Clarke turns to her with a pensive crease between her eyebrows. "And maybe they could teach your healers how to draw from nature to cure many ailments."

"That's... not such a bad idea," Clarke concedes, and a smile ghosts over pink lips, making the beauty mark above them tip upwards. "But we would have to think things through very thoroughly. That is, if we joined the Coalition."

"Of course."

Their day draws to an end when the sun has already hidden behind the walls of Arkadia and the sky is the same purple that colours its flags. Clarke explains to her that each of their cities is represented by a colour and together they form a rainbow. "I may have had a hand in that," Clarke confides, although the meaning of her sly smirk is lost on Lexa.

Clarke takes her to the door of her quarters and it is not until Lexa is about to nod her goodbye that the Sky leader clears her throat and extends her arm. Lexa's eyes take in the proffered arm, then find Clarke's gaze with a raised eyebrow. Clarke purses her lips and takes a deep breath.

"Look, I am— genuinely sorry for... for what happened yesterday. My behaviour was unacceptable."

Lexa is tempted to punish Clarke a bit further, but decides to offer an olive branch instead. She clasps Clarke's forearm and feels soft fingers wrap around her own. "You are unwaveringly protective of your people, Clarke. I can appreciate that."

Clarke's small, grateful smile is worth the concession.

~~~~

The next morning, Lexa leaves her quarters to find Marcus and Clarke waiting for her. Once all pleasantries are exchanged, the Chancellor invites her, with an eager tilt to his voice, to have the first meal in the mess hall.

Lexa accepts the invitation with polite words and Marcus takes the front of their little group of four, Gustus included. Lexa and Clarke walk side by side just a few steps behind.

"I hope you are liking your stay here, Commander," Clarke says after several seconds of silence.

Lexa gathers her thoughts before she answers carefully: "It is in many ways an experience unlike what I am used to. The sounds are different, the clothes too. There is no shortage of metal."

Clarke hums in agreement. "Technology has its pros and cons. Against it is the fact that you find yourself turning your back on your surroundings." Lexa's eyes must hold a question in them, for Clarke answers it immediately: "When everything you need is inside a wall, you end up exploring the world outside less and less."

"Maybe I can help your people find their balance."

Clarke shrugs noncommittally, but Lexa spies indecision in her eyes. It is not until some seconds later that Clarke decides to voice her thoughts.

"The problem with alliances is that they only last for so long. Eventually one clan's needs trumps the alliance's and everyone falls back into their old, warring ways."

Lexa understands Clarke's doubt; it has plagued her sleepless one too many nights. However, it is not just a matter of conviction. Lexa knows that if she manages to find a balance between codependency and independency, she can keep the Coalition alive for many ages. She wants her legacy to be enjoyed by many commanders after her.

"Clarke, I am trying to build something that will last for many generations. An alliance that will stand the test of time, a brand of peace that will outlive all of us," she says, unable to keep a thread of passion from her voice. "Something much stronger than the Pauna's fist and far greater than a hero's glory. War breeds legends, peace feeds civilisations."

Clarke's smile is teasing, but Lexa recognises it for the deflection that it is. "Nice speech, Commander."

She shrugs and lets her eyes glint with mirth. "I am not above making rousing speeches to sway your vote, Clarke."

~~~~

(there was more but it was incomplete so I figured this would be the best place to cut)

#clexa #clexa au #mine #my fics

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whetstonefires · 4 years

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mcu ethics bad

The thing is that, while I was angry at Tony during Age of Ultron, particularly when he rode over Bruce’s compunctions about building a giant combat super-robot and pressured him into the project like a very very bad friend who happened to also be wrong...

...and when he equipped Hulkbuster armor and fought the Hulk in the middle of a city rather than attempting de-escalation or attempting to haul the Hulk out into the giant adjacent desert....

(And my suspension of disbelief snapped like a frayed cable when he brought down a skyscraper that had had no time to be evacuated on a street full of fleeing people and the only reason we were given to believe he hadn’t just cold-bloodedly created massive civilian casualties was that he told his AI to find the impossible magic angle where doing this wouldn’t kill anyone...)

While I was angry with him then, and unspeakably relieved that he recognized his own damage and retired at the end, haha psych, I was revolted by him during Civil War.

It’s supposed to make us sympathize with a character more, spending so much time with them, getting into their heads, being shown their emotional drives and reactions to things, and we spent so much time with Tony during that film, understanding his point of view. And...I did understand him. He’s not complicated. I even sympathized with his emotional state.

But in the context of his actions, throughout the film, I gazed into that understanding the way I did into Kylo Ren’s face in the seconds after he first unmasked. I see you, I know you, everything you are is written here, and the lines of your shame and self-revulsion are so thick upon you, and you should be ashamed but your self-destruction does not expiate or justify one jot of the harm you do.

Because everything Tony did in Civil War came from a place of selfishness. He was selfish all throughout that movie down to his very spine.

And selfishness isn’t itself necessarily bad--you need a little, to get through life, you have the right to your own portion of it. Your boundaries and your needs. But the type of selfishness that is forcing other people pay dearly for your emotional comfort and sense of control: no.

That is tyranny. That is not acceptable.

And you know how I know he was being selfish? Because his motive for pushing the Sokovia Accords was his personal guilt for the destruction of Sokovia.

But the Accords didn’t address that at all! They were tangential to the issue! None of the terms of the Accords would have saved Sokovia--in fact, the existence of them could easily have prevented the evacuation and harm-reduction the Avengers managed there, without saving a single soul.

The Ultron crisis was something Tony did, not as Iron Man but as Tony Stark, with Bruce Banner’s help, and which Wanda as criminal fugitive later helped exacerbate, and which all the other Avengers were involved in only to mitigate harm.

Legislation, or...treaties, idk, the UN isn’t actually empowered to pass laws so who knows what this thing was...aimed at preventing another Sokovia would mandate constant ethical oversight of billionaire science man’s mad science. At the very least! He never has to run things by ethics boards because he’s self-funded, at the very least let’s invent a mechanism to make up for that.

That would address the actual Sokovia issue, both in terms of risks and in terms of Tony’s personal guilt feelings.

But no one suggests that! It’s not even on the table! Because no one, certainly not any government, can tell Tony Stark what to do unless he lets them, that’s been a clear matter of record since Iron Man 2.

And because no one writing this legal instrument of whatever description was actually motivated by wanting to avoid another Sokovia, or even another ‘Wanda tries to neutralize a suicide bomber but merely gives him a different, smaller victim pool’ incident.

They didn’t care! They blatantly didn’t care! The entire thing was a ghoulish use of the dead to gain enough political leverage over the Avengers to put a leash on them!

(Which might not be a bad thing in principle, everything needs its checks, but when the last quasi-governmental organization you worked for turned out to be Nazis who were only prevented from staging a mass slaughter of undesireables by the skin of your teeth, I think you’re well within your rights to be very choosy about who you agree to obey, and to be firmly against pledging your honor to follow people whose first move was dishonest coercive tactics.

Actually you’re well within your rights to demand to negotiate the terms of even a much less sweeping contract, even without the Nazis. The whole approach to this thing stank to high heaven.

The fact that it was written by the UN like a treaty, expected to be signed by private individuals like a contract, and then enforced like a law except not because 1) laws are for everyone 2) if you break a law you get a trial not extrajudicial incarceration and 3) being pressured to consent to a restriction and then punished for refusing consent is hypocritical circular logic and in fact police corruption at its finest, all continues to show it was a bullshit nonsense franken-document.)

The whole movie is people ghoulishly using the dead to manipulate Tony into making bad decisions in response to his emotional pain. That’s. The plot of the film.

Then Zemo staged T’Chaka’s assassination and framed Bucky for it to raise the tension, ramp up the pressure, and prevent any sitting-down and talking reasonably through this, which might have allowed for the recognition of how extremely bullshit the entire concept was.

Tony was being used. Tony was a tool of bad people for most of that movie, and while Zemo banked on using his wrath for it, the politicos were leaning on his guilt.

And there’s honestly little I hold in deeper scorn than going out and hurting other people to assuage your own guilt and treating this as having the moral high ground. No. You don’t have the moral high ground on account of your guilt motivation. You have it if the actions you took were just, or at least could reasonably be assumed to have been so at the time.

And Tony fucking knew they weren’t. He didn’t even last to the end of the movie before recognizing that he’d been manipulated and fucked up, and doubling back.

That he then walked into a different manipulation, turned on a dime, and had to be stopped from doing a murder doesn’t unwrite that.

And it drives me nuts that people will say Tony was acting out of principle while Steve was acting out of personal attachment. Because sure, the Bucky thing was important, was the reason he was walking forward against all opposition instead of standing still to argue, but it wasn’t the reason Steve said no, while...

Tony wasn’t acting out of principle. Tony isn’t...very good at having principles. That’s not even a criticism or condemnation, it’s just how he functions. Since Iron Man he’s been substituting good intentions and emotional investment, which has worked out to varying degrees. It works best for huge, difficult, very straightforward decisions like ‘ride the nuke through the portal and save my hometown.’ It works less well for nuanced situations.

Tony was, as usual, acting out of emotion. And some awful shitheads who’d figured out where his levers were had calculated how to jiggle his emotion switches in the right places to make him do exactly what they wanted.

And you can tell he wasn’t acting out of principle because, for example, someone who was trying to get the superhero community under outside control for the sake of harm mitigation...

...well, firstly wouldn’t have chosen to stage a massive battle? But it’s possible someone in the UN specifically told him to do that, and in theory they at the very least signed off on it, presumably for its PR value of making Captain America look deranged and violent since it’s a deranged decision from every other angle, so yay, he can pass that responsibility up the chain and not have to angst about it, as promised.

But I was going to say would not have approached a minor who (this timeline takes pains to show us) had no prior experience of battle or even, somehow, serious violent crime, to recruit him to go be a government child soldier on another continent, without his guardian’s knowledge or consent. There were overtones of blackmail in Tony’s approach, before it turned out Peter was such a big fan he didn’t need that. What the fuck frankly.

That is not the action of someone who wants to start doing things by the letter, scaling the violence down, keeping within the law and putting the power of decisionmaking in other people’s hands because he’s realized he can’t trust his own.

And frankly even if he did act like that I wouldn’t necessarily support his choices, in particular his snap decision to behave coercively toward other Avengers with vastly less social power and security than he has.

And that’s the other thing! Everything about ‘Tony + Accords BFFs’ rings so hollow because he has never thought rules applied to him, and he knows perfectly well the entire time he’s fighting to force this surrender of agency down other people’s throats that he is going to be practically immune.

This man was technically a terrorist, proabably the most prolific single terrorist in world history until his rogue android exceeded his body count, but he was immune to prosecution because he was in tight with the United States military-industrial complex and basically untouchable due to his status within capitalism, and pursuing their international goals anyway. In the time between Iron Man and Iron Man II he was basically a one-man upgrade of the US drone program, and so good at it that the crest of blood he carved through the Middle East allowed him to announce he had ‘privatized world peace.’

(You are never going to get a world peace worth anything on the basis of a giant flying gun, okay.)

He went to war as a private individual, against non-state actors who were not directly threatening him, which is very much defined as ‘mass murder’ in all domestic and international law, and the US army in response sued him for control of his weapon. And lost! Lost.

No one attempted to press charges. No one. Because Tony Stark is above all that. And he knows it.

And like. I’m willing to accept the mass murder under the heading of ‘superheroing’ within the terms of this setting! Even if, after his vengeance rampage on his specific kidnappers, this violence was kept strictly off-screen for a reason. I did that! I bent that far! Genre convention!

But this history is kind of vitally important to any analysis of what he thought he was doing, and what he actually was doing, when he decided to become the iron gauntlet of the Sokovia Accords.

The currently active member of the Avengers who needed muzzling most was very manifestly Iron Man, and he knew even as he jammed the muzzle on all his comrades to make himself feel better that it would affect him the least, even if he didn’t finally retire for real this time. You don’t force Tony Stark. Not if you want anything out of it but blown up. You persuade him.

And once you have...oh, look at what he can do.

#hoc est meum #mcu #tony stark critical #i am so angry with this man and i will never stop #i throw salt #an ocean of it

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floxalopex · 3 years

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I don't know if somebody already did this specifically. But yh the heck let's go.

WARNING 1: THIS IS NOT A POST FOR SENSITIVE PEOPLE AND/OR MINORS. (it contains gore and sexual themes and more).

And yes, SALT. Lots of salt.

WARNING 2: this has nothing to do with Christianity specifically. Atheism isn't hate towards your god(s) and/or its believers. Although there are many forms of atheism (some of which are so strong and violent they make me furious) think about mine as a general form of indifference. I hate the Church state, yes, but sorry I have that "at home" so please don't blame me. I don't like Abrahamic religions in general, but I've grown up with one.

I'm thankfully not a cult survivor, but I can understand some things.

WARNING 3: living in a very religious contest I have many beloved friends and relatives (starting with my mother) who believe in their god a lot. So if my words are too disrespectful tell me, I really don't want to hurt anybody.

Okay.

So.

I've seen many similarities between the cult Horde Prime put his clones in and your very average, very white, very western idea of Christianity.

1) Theophagy:

First of all, I really don't know much how this thing is lived in other Christian countries, but in mine they put a lot of emphasis on the Eucharist.

As far as I've seen I think it's pretty obvious how much in ancient cultures there's a very carnal and very grounded idea of the spirit. That can result in believing the soul to be the "psyche", so literally "the breath of life", the coordination of your sinapsis togheter (to me a very poetic definition of how our whole being ourselves is just us being our central nervous system) or it can lead to you eating the ashes of your granpa so you get his good qualities (something some cultures still do today). They said that the head of Orpheus was buried in the island of Lesbo and that's why its land was filled with amazing poets like Sappho. There's this very, sorry, brutal idea of the embodyment of the soul, the talents of a person, that even a piece of corpse is considered a magic thingy.

This is no different in the very old, very ancient, very rural Christian religion (at least in the most common version of it, we have many flavours of one truth apperentely).

When I was in High School we studied a lot Bacchus and the Baccanalia, because there are several commedies about it. My teacher, being very religious, was almost ashamed to admit that a lot of acts of those festivities (let's say that the most normal thing was for women to give their milk to animal cubs) were actually not very dissimilar in their rawness to certain habits of the religion.

So, what about Horde Prime? (me *yh, what about it, stupid ADHD?*). I have seen a post in the past explaining that yes, even though spacebats have the dentition of a frugivore bat and not haematophagus bat, the scene of Prime recharging in his throne with all those disgusting cables filled with green liquid referred as "the life force" of his clones...well, it's surely something.

Looks like a sort of sci-fi vampire thing. Which is very cool and I love this headcanon. So again I kept thinking...what is THAT amniotic fluid? I am a student, so correct me if I say something wrong.

Amniotic fluid is a combination of water 99%, proteins, glucids, fats and some salts (...it's even effective for electric conduction...the heck is that pool).

The most similar body fluid is plasma, so blood less cells. Even the serum, so plasma less proteins, is very similar.

Now, stated that Prime is a manipulative jerk, stated that I don't know much about aliens' physiology, stated that that fluid can come from blood potentially, in Church they say this:

*and Jesus said: "This is my body/blood which I offer in sacrifice for you"*

Apart from it being very creepy, there's this idea in the whole religion-thingy: if you are human you are a selfish monster, so monstrous you made our Lord and Savior die for your sins for how messed up you were.

So basically you don't become a sinner, you are concived as one. Humanity is sin itself, it can never lead to something good.

So are the clones. That's why Prime, in his benevolence, feeds them with himself. To make them pure, to protect them from the outside world. To make them remember who their strenght comes from.

If you don't want to read all of this just go for the Futurama soda episode, it's basically the same thing. Bleah.

2) Corpse feticism and more.

Again, don't know you guys, but here we are filled with mummies. I went in a place in Palermo and ...my gosh why did I do that.

We have everything here, hands, heads, feet, teeth so many of them, dead babies, dead virgins, dead popes, dead elders, all of them for half the prize, but only if you call today.

We are. Filled. With these atrocities. At least we don't touch them anymore.

Sometimes I wonder if, apart from the "hygene", people in Middle Ages used to die at the honorable age of 13 also because they kissed those... thingies there.

So, can we please talk about Horde Prime collection of "previous selves"?

This man has a whole room filled with corpses of himself. In the Vatican you can find corpses of dead popes as well, preserved and even dressed in a very good way. In Italy in general we have these, I remember a whole room in a town near my city filled with skeletons of "saints". Personally I find it very disturbing because you are basically not allowing that body to rest and serve its last biological purpose, especially if you consider that most of these "saints" were mentally impared young kids who were killed brutally and died as "martyrs". In ancient Greece the WORST thing you could do to a corpse was to leave it unburied, without dignity.

It's getting darker now.

I like both headcanons for Prime, that of a spoiled (maybe even sexist) royal of a lost culture who wanted to conquer the universe and that of him being a sort of ancient evil spirit, but I personally like to stick with the latter.

Imagine the old bodies of the clones Prime used for himself. Pushed to their limits. Clones dying young is horrific as well, but like these people were forced to go on. Not to die. Not to age as much as possible. And now that they are dead they can't even rest. They are a show off for anyone to see. Their brains preserved and their literal dead flesh still tormented for reading.

One may ask me, then what about corpses in formalin for medical use? Well, one thing is a donor or a dead fetus or a corpse nobody claims. That's the story of the skeleton in my university, a young male who didn't eat much. A very lonely man. Well at least now he is well loved and appreciated, ah if only he knew that.

The point is, we respect them. We are grateful for the informations they give us. Gosh, I know I'm creepy, but I even cuddled one bone once. We know they probably suffered. Like, search for HeLa cells. That lady has my highest respect.

But Prime? Those are. Vessels. Just that.

Anyways, apart for the "respect the deads thing" I found Hordak's behaviour in that room that of high distress. Like, ehm, any normal person? Search for "Convento Dei Cappuccini", that place I was talking about in Palermo. The fact that I heard kids cry and "MEMENTO MORI" everywhere.

Everyone and everything is afraid of death, I just accepted that fear because it's normal. That doesn't mean I want to be reminded of it every week, especially if I'm a 7 yo kid.

Honorable mentions: that horrible art collection.

3) Double standards

When I went to catechism my teacher used a very feather hand on males and an iron fist on us ladies. We weren't allowed to wear trousers, to play football, to raise our voice. We were forced to be very clean, to sit with our legs as closed as possible. I heard it was worse before, at least we could play volleyball and weren't forced to knit.

We were however "encouraged" to sing and bake stupid cakes for Sundays. Mind you, I'm very feminine, but one thing is liking ribbons one thing is being a slave.

The boys...well, they could literally do anything. They broke things, used petards, beat each other. They were NEVER reproached, the teachers would say "oh, they are just boys". Like once I was so engrossed. I remember I had to sit behind a guy with his butt almost uncovered (because the lower you put the helm of your trousers the cooler you were) while I had to stay still with my head high, chest out, belly in and legs closed for 2h. The problem was: I almost pitied him. I was like "poor thing he doesn't know how to behave properly". That's so crazy, I was piting a free soul while I had my hands handcuffed because I truly believed the bullshit they put into my mind.

Now, imagine how did Horde Prime's clones feel about Catra and Glimmer.

They can dress as they please. Eat non amniotic fluid. Catra can even go wherever she wants.

To me, they didn't feel envious. As they should! That's how far an indoctrination can go.

Take Yudi interaction with Catra, he believes everything he is saying.

But I think deep down he knows, they all know, the truth, juding by his bitter reaction after being possesed. He knows he is the slave here, not the free man. But he wants to believe the other way round.

I think that yes, of course Prime kept Glimmer and Catra (and Hordak) because he needed them to conquer Etheria. But that is also a good way to show to the poor clones of how lost people far away from Prime's light can be. Slaves of their bodly needs and slaves of their individuality.

4) Sexual abuse

Do I need to explain this? Plus all those sick touches Prime gives not only to Hordak, but to Glimmer, Catra and Adora as well?

I don't know much about other countries, again, but here the Church is a real cancer. If a priest gets accoused of raping children he just gets put into another Church far away, and generally he keeps being a pedo even there and the game goes on.

I wouldn't exately say that Prime is a pedophile but clones are pretty innocent and neotenic to me so...idk.

Of course, Prime is his own state and his own rules, so yh. Raping all day. That's why I don't like to ship him with anything rather than a 100 m fall. Not even with his clones, sorry I know its kinky maybe but he is a monster.

Also, the way the clones feel like...honored to be raped. That's so sad. Maybe he convinced them this is the only right way they could experience sex and intimacy. I really don't know.

One thing I'm sure of is that Christian religion likes to often put shame on some "impure" acts. That's the name. The most impure of all is masturbation. If you are a male ...mmm well it's okay dear, it's not your fault you are male and so a sex starved animal. But if you are a girl? Ihhh oh dare you bitch.

Mind you, I fall in the ace spectrum but I did too have puberty and needs, and these thoughts in my head made me only conflicted.

Last thing. More of an asking. And more irriverent, so please stay away if you don't want to read.

So basically I understood I was atheist at 5 yo, just because I read two different versions of the birth of the Universe, one in my science book and one in my Bible (MY Bible, I still have it, was a gift of my aunt) and preferred the science version. I still felt conflicted, like once during a religion lesson at School (well...I don't blame Mussolini much in this case, I mean the Vatican wasn't still recognizing country indipendence and we needed a compromise) the teacher told me to stop drawing dinosaurs with Adam and Eve because they never existed. I mean...yes that's anachronistic but still I felt very sad, dinosaurs were cooler than that story. I remember I even made an experiment "if I say I don't believe in god will I get thunderstruck?". It didn't happen so I was like "oh cool, science wins". But then CATECHISM ecc ecc. The fun fact is that they think atheists are those who don't study religion, while I was the most zelous of the class.

So.

I just wonder...my baby boy Hordak is a man of science, what were his thoughts after his separation from Prime. I mean of course he still believed, but also not as much after some time. Entrapta is a support system for him of course, but he accepts her affection quite easily on canon. Which is amazing, still... maybe he was already doubting his devotion?

#Horde prime #horde clones #spacebats #Hordak #Yudi #atheism

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