#their usual tactics failed them; they gave up & someone showed up to give them a new purpose; | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hestiasroom · 1 year

Text

At first I wasn’t particularly inclined to watch Matt Walsh’s documentary What is a Woman? I know the answer to that one already. Everybody does.

A woman is someone who isn’t allowed a final say on what a woman is. Pretending not to know this — that defining “woman” is incredibly complex and bewildering — is an age-old tactic deployed by non-women, usually in order to excuse treating us badly.

Are women fully human? Do they have souls? What do women want? Far greater men than the host of The Matt Walsh Show — Aristotle, Thomas Aquinas, Sigmund Freud — have tried and failed to answer these questions (they could always have asked an actual woman, but first they’d have had to establish whether women can think, and then they’d have been back to square one).

As Matt himself says at the start of his film, “I like to make sense of things. Making sense of females is a whole other matter”, noting that “even astrophysicist Stephen Hawking” was “completely dumbfounded by women”.

Even astrophysicist Stephen Hawking! Honestly, ladies, if the author of A Brief History of Time hasn’t a clue what the hell we are, what hope do any of us have?

The thankless nature of the task may be why the twenty-first century version of The Woman Question has now been allocated to those somewhat lower down the male intellect hierarchy: Edinburgh fringe comedians, disgraced MPs, right-wing shock jocks, Owen Jones and Billy Bragg.

The proposal that a woman is anyone who defines themselves as a woman — and that no woman may say anyone isn’t a woman — has led to a particularly unimpressive stage of the debate, one which can only be described as the Summa Theologica meets incels r us.

On the bright side, it’s clear the men are bloody loving it. If you’re left-wing, it’s your chance to put those TERFs in their place after years of having to “do feminism” as part of the right-side-of-history package deal. If you’re right-wing, it’s your opportunity to own all those feminists who suggested female bodies weren’t inferior and that pink, fluffy ladybrains were a myth. As Walsh declares of his film, “the movie makes utter fools of educated elite liberals”. I’m guessing that’s the point.

I confess to having known very little about Matt Walsh up till now. “I’m a husband, I’m a father of four, I host a talk show, I give speeches, I write books,” he tells us by way of introduction. Hey, that sounds nice! Alas, a quick perusal of his twitter account shows that he’s the kind of renaissance man who tweets things like “feminism is an ugly and bitter ideology” and “rapists love abortion. It helps them cover up their crime”.

He’s also the kind of man who, should feminists show themselves to insufficiently appreciative of his recent woman-defining efforts, tells us we would “rather be a victim than win the fight” and that we “just want to sit on the sidelines and whine”. He’s been, like, getting death threats due to his challenge to contemporary gender mores! Would you risk that, eh, feminists? What’s anyone ever done to you, JK Rowling, you massive coward?

I first wrote about the problematic nature of a gender identity-based definition of women over eight years ago. Other women, such as Julie Bindel, were sounding the alarm far earlier, and with little support. I know we’re supposed to be eternally grateful to Matt for stepping into the breach. What a gent! As the Onion once put it, Man Finally Put In Charge of Struggling Feminist Movement (admittedly it’s a man who thinks feminism is an ugly and bitter ideology but hey, we can’t have everything).

In any case, I gave in and watched Matt’s film, just on the off-chance I’d missed something (more fool me; I read Gender Trouble on that basis, and look where that’s got me). There was little in What is a woman? that I didn’t already know from the work of feminists themselves, but that’s no reason to discount it. What’s wrong with alerting the normies to the excesses of trans activism too?

Walsh never acknowledges the role his own rigid beliefs play

Perhaps the most difficult thing about conveying the absurdities of extreme trans activism to anyone who hasn’t yet encountered it, is that you either sound as though you’re making it up (usually in order to “stoke moral panic”) or the person to whom you’re talking concludes you must have missed some essential point (it would indeed be horrific if teenage girls were having their breasts removed due to social contagion and “progressive” institutions were cheering it on, therefore it can’t be happening. There must be something else afoot).

One of the great things about Walsh’s film is that he shows, first, that harmful things are indeed taking place, and second, that there is no hidden meaning behind them. The therapists, surgeons, academics and politicians to whom he speaks don’t suddenly pull back the curtain and reveal, yes, this is the reason why it isn’t total bollocks to claim that no one really knows what sex anyone is. That moment never comes (and believe me, I’d have loved it if it had. Being a Known TERF is a pain in the arse).

Instead they say things like “a chicken has an assigned gender” and that the word truth is “condescending and rude”. Ha! Aren’t liberals ridiculous? At one point Matt interviews someone who identifies as a wolf (or some other animal. I got bored and went to the kitchen for a biscuit at that point). What’s striking is that you sense his interviewees know on some level that they’re bullshitting. That’s why a number of them end the interview early, citing Walsh’s alleged bad faith as the reason why.

There are some genuinely moving sections to the film, such as the interviews with female athletes cheated out of prizes by the inclusion of males in the girls’ categories. The contribution from Scott Newgent, a trans man deeply concerned about the impact of medical transition on young females, was incredibly engaging. I could have watched a whole film on Newgent alone, as someone clearly driven by both personal trauma and compassion for others.

So why, overall, did the film leave a bad taste? Am I just an “ugly and bitter” feminist, peeved that a man has come along and claimed a number of feminist observations as his own? Am I a purist, unwilling to accept any support from anyone whose views don’t align precisely with mine?

I don’t think so. The problem for me is that Walsh never acknowledges the role his own rigid beliefs play in creating and perpetuating the current situation.

He finds countless people convinced that the only way to avoid imposing harmful social norms on individuals on the basis of their sexed bodies, is to pretend we can’t define said bodies or impute any social meaning to them at all. Yet he does nothing to suggest one shouldn’t impose said norms, or that his own pink/blue fantasies of girlhood and boyhood might be leading those who don’t conform to feel they are somehow “wrong”.

“Give my son a BB gun and that’s just about all the emotional support he needs,” he muses over a children’s party scene, all boys in blue jeans, all girls pink princesses. “My daughter on the other hand … I’ve heard people say that there are no differences between male and female. Those people are idiots.”

Hmm. I have three children, all biologically male, all of whom have played with dolls houses and worn dresses. Two of them have Frozen-style long blonde hair and I’ve never bought any of them a toy gun (nor have any of them asked for one).

Women are caught between two forms of misogyny

According to Walsh’s own gender ideology, I’m on the slippery slope towards the erasure of any stable definition of “male” and “female” at all. This is the mirror image of the absurdities of trans activism. Both Walsh and the people he interviews conflate sex difference denialism with the rejection of gender stereotypes. He thinks we should suffer the stereotypes; they think we should suffer the surgery. Feminists believe we shouldn’t suffer either.

There’s a particularly grim scene where Walsh attends a Women’s March, and delights in harassing female protestors who don’t want to give a precise definition of the word “woman”. Much as this reticence frustrates me, too, I know where it comes from. The polarised politics of the day has told these women they must choose between denying their sex and accepting an anti-choice, conservative vision of what it means to be an adult human female. It’s a vision Matt Walsh shares.

These women are caught between two forms of misogyny but to Walsh, it’s all “own the libs” fun and games. This man is not on our side, nor will he win over the women he lazily misrepresents as not knowing what’s good for them.

At the end of the film, Matt returns home from his gender odyssey to his waiting Penelope. She is, of course, in the kitchen, and happens to be struggling with a pickle jar.

“What is a woman?” he asks her.

“An adult human female — who needs help opening this!” she responds. Got it, ladies? He’ll defend our right to exist as a sex class, as long as we can all agree it’s the weaker one.

In the end, I’m just so fed up with the machismo. Last year I spoke to one of the founders of Woman’s Place UK, who told me sex-based rights will ultimately be defended best by those in it for “the victory, not the glory”. The people, mainly women, often lesbians and women of colour, who do the dull, behind the scenes work of compiling data and challenging unfair practices one by one. The people who aren’t seeking to reimpose other, equally oppressive beliefs about sex and gender.

It may be that What is a Woman? helps, by showing some still on the fence that the problem is real. Others, it may push in the other direction. Either way, women themselves won’t be thanked for their own hard work and significant risks.

After all, that’s just what being a woman is.

#What Is a Woman?#what is a woman #matt walsh #gender ideology #transactivism #trans #transgender #mansplaining #Victoria Smith #only men are qualified to decide what a woman is #misogyny

65 notes · View notes

veeeffvee · 2 months

Note

Was busy traveling all day and couldn't decide which one to choose.. and I was a little worried maybe other people might've submitted already too... UH, how does this one sound from the list? "That's not the worst thing I've ever heard but it's certainly up there." Did I do this right-?

Send a sentence starter and I'll practice writing a ficlet featuring Christopher and Kennith! {COLOR-TV AU}

“...That’s not the worst thing I’ve ever heard, but it’s certainly up there,” Christopher said after a pause, giving Kennith a flat look.

“Whaaat? Come on, it’s totally a good idea,” Kennith replied with a wide grin, trying his best to sound convincing. Which didn’t go very far when talking to someone like Christopher. “You get your squad together, show up to an episode of COLOR-TV, and do a bunch of team-based challenges together! It’ll be fun!”

Christopher bristled. “They’re not my—” he began indignantly, before taking a breath and trying again. “We are not a squad, as people are so keen on putting it. We’re hardly even friends.” He paused. “Well I suppose the girls are friends, but they just like to follow me around for some ungodly reason.”

Kennith’s head tilted to the side, slightly confused. “If you’re not friends, then why do you like to dance with Winnie, and ask a bunch of favors from Obsequious?”

“Because they’re both idiots who will do what I say.”

“See? You are a squad! You’re clearly the leader!”

“I am not their leader!” Christopher very nearly yelled, much to Kennith’s amusement. While Kennith struggled and failed not to laugh, Christopher took another breath to calm himself. “I do not even want to be associated with those… buffoons. They just so happened to take quite a liking to me, the reason for which I have not the slightest idea. What kinds of friends show up to my mansion uninvited almost every day?!”

“The best kind,” Kennith said with a cheeky wink. “Come on, you said they’ll do anything you ask them to, why not command them to be on the show? They’re obviously gonna do it.”

“They would. But I refuse to take part in it.”

Kennith pouted. “Aww, why not?”

“You’re lucky I’m still even at your studio after the fiasco during my episode,” Christopher reminded him, his tone cold. “I don’t want to do an episode with those two, that’s final. Only disastrous things follow those two, I swear.”

“Oh come on, they can’t be that bad, you’re exaggerating!” Kennith rolled his eyes, thinking Christopher’s clearly just being dramatic. “The first episode featured Obsequious, and that went well! Mostly.”

Christopher folded his arms, glancing away while his eyes narrowed. “Yes, well, apart they’re harmless. But together they just feed into each other’s inane ideas and antics.”

“Aww, cute. I’d ship ‘em.”

“Kennith.”

The TV show host held up his hands defensively. “Alright, alright!” he said with a chuckle. Looks like he’d need to switch tactics and be more lenient, as bad of an idea as that is with Christopher. “What would it take for you to be on the episode, huh? I’m open to negotiating.”

That gave Christopher pause, and he looked back at Kennith curiously. There we go, he’d piqued his interest. Much better.

“...Give me three months of paid vacation, where I don’t need to show up to the studio to be on standby like usual.”

Kennith blanched. “WHAT?! No!”

“Fine, then you won’t get your episode.”

“A week!”

“Four months.”

“Two weeks!”

“Six months.”

“A month!”

“Deal,” Christopher agreed, shaking Kennith’s hand. Judging by the grin on his face, it seemed like he had been aiming for a month this entire time. “A pleasure doing business with you, Kennith.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kennith grumbled, withdrawing his hand with a pout. That wasn’t a very good deal. Now he had to rework a bunch of potential episodes for the schedule later on. Dammit. “So you’ll ask them?”

“Of course, I am a man of my word.”

“No you’re not.”

“Hahaha,” Christopher laughed, obviously forced. “Oh, Kennith. We both know that as far this arrangement of ours goes, I most certainly am. Unless you would like to abuse—I mean, exercise your power?” he drawled, sarcastic.

Kennith tilted his head up, trying to appear taller as he glared at Christopher. Of course, it didn’t work because Christopher was a foot taller than him, but at least he looked a bit more standoffish. “Depends. Are you actually gonna participate in the episode?”

Christopher put a hand to his chin, humming thoughtfully. “Hmm, I don’t believe that was part of the deal.”

“WHAT?!”

“You said, and I quote, ‘What would it take for you to be on the episode?’ I never said I would participate. I simply agreed to show up,” Christopher replied with one of his signature Cheshire cat smiles.

Kennith stared at him. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

“Naturally.”

Kennith sighed, bringing a hand to his forehead. “What will it take for you to participate in the episode.”

“Another month?”

“No. I can’t just have you not show up to work for that long.”

Christopher hummed. “Hmm, fair enough,” he said with a shrug. As much as he’d like to keep haggling for more, he did want to keep his job. Not because of the money, but because it was the most entertaining thing in his life at the moment, unfortunately. “How about this: during the episode, you are not to yell or rush me in any way. Doing your humiliating challenges is hard enough, I do not need your screeching in addition to that.”

Kennith brought an indignant hand to his chest. “I don’t screech! My voice isn’t screechy, it’s fun!” he protested. In response, Christopher gave him a look without saying anything. “What, you don’t think I sound fun?”

“It’s best if I don’t answer that,” Christopher said flatly. “Are my terms agreeable?”

Kennith rolled his eyes. “Yes, they’re agreeable, fine. I’ll just yell at the other two, I guess.”

“Do as you wish with them, I couldn’t care less.”

That piqued Kennith’s interest. “Would you let me boss them around like they would for you?”

Christopher paused to consider that, before glancing away. “...No.”

“Aww come on, what?? Are they your friends or not?”

“They aren’t my friends, but I’m not just going to let you—”

“So you’re a squad?”

“WE’RE NOT A SQUAD!”

Kennith grinned. “Sure you are. The Monochrome Squad.”

Christopher let out a frustrated groan at the team being given a title. “Don’t call us that!”

“Ohhh, so you guys are an ‘us’ now?”

“KENNITH!”

“Okay, okay! Hahaha…”

#bendyartistic #ghost and pals #the distortionist #colorbars #COLOR-TV #fanfic #Thanks for sending me one! I've gotten a total of two starters so far so I'm glad I've received /any/ lmao #I just kept writing until I reached about 1000 words tbh. I think I'll try to do that for any more that come in

13 notes · View notes

incrediblyconfusing · 2 years

Text

BNHA: Aromantic Headcanons

A list of headcanons for characters I think are aromantic and what types of aromantics they are :). I added definitions for two of them because I’m not that good at remembering microlabels so I don’t blame anyone else if they aren’t.

Kaminari - aromantic bisexual, mystified

So confused about romance. He gets the overall concept, but he doesn’t really understand why people want it. Like “You guys actually feel like that? I thought it was a joke..” Cannot comprehend the explanations of the Allos™. Still thinks that some people are exaggerating. He’s that person who gives blunt relationship advice like:

“I dunno, have you considered just... telling him you’ve got a crush on him?”

“Y’know, 95% of these problems could be solved if people talked to their partner. Like they’re supposed to.“

He likes to flirt with his friends though, because he knows from his limited research that flirting makes people feel attractive and desired. Also, he’s still a bisexual disaster.

Todoroki - aromantic asexual, oblivious

He read an article once that was like ‘How to Show Your Love 101’ without realizing it was for confessing to crushes. The next day, he gave a bouquet of red roses to Uraraka, a letter detailing his admiration to Midoriya, heart-shaped chocolates to Iida, and a frog plushie to Tsuyu. Needless to say, there was a bit of confusion in his friend group.

“T-Todoroki-kun, do you want to date... all of us!?“

“Huh?”

“Deku asked if you wanna date all of us at once.“

“No, but if that’s what you want, I don’t mind.“

“But... you gifted us various items often associated with romantic confession. Social cues dictate that that signals you are courting us.“

“I am?“

Todoroki is the popular guy that gets tons of chocolate on Valentine’s Day. He always ends up sharing it with his entire class. It’s up to Class 1A to keep this a secret so they don’t have to deal with an entire school’s worth (seriously, it’s ridiculous) of upset admirers.

Ashido - arospec (cupioromantic) pansexual - leaning towards women, Hopeless Romantic™

Ashido is canonically cupioromantic and a hopeless romantic. She’d be very favorable towards a relationship and constantly mistakes aesthetic attraction for romantic attraction. Keeping up on the current gossip, making lists with other girls about the hottest boys, and overall being a ‘ditzy blonde’ type means that most people don’t realize her aromanticism. She’s an aro that picks crushes, choosing a different one almost everyday.

When it comes to talking about Ashido’s ‘romantic feelings’, she usually just sticks with boys to avoid homophobia, but give her the go ahead and she’ll gush just as much about girls. Probably in a QPR with Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero. Bakugou, Jirou and Shinsou are in it too, but they pretend they aren’t.

(Cupioromantic: Romantic attraction is not felt, but the individual has the desire to still participate in romantic relationships)

Shinsou and Aizawa - aromantic asexual, asocial

These two just want to retire in a nice cozy apartment with as many cats as they can support. It’s not that they don’t like other people, per se, but they just have limited energy for them. Energy which Class 1A has a monopoly on.

“Why would I want someone living with me? Imagine I go to get coffee from the kitchen and there’s just a person there.”

Bakugou - aromantic asexual, smug

He’d be so obnoxious about it because he sees it more like not having a weakness that everyone else does. When he becomes a pro-hero, he’ll always crow in triumph when villains or villainesses try and fail to seduce him as a battle tactic. Fans and enemies alike will try to overanalyze what his ‘type’ is, but any attempt to court him always fails.

I’m guessing that Bakugou also has a little mysophobia, or at least touch aversion, so kissing and third base isn’t the most appealing for him.

Kirishima - arospec (greyromantic) bisexual - leaning heavily towards men, friend-oriented

A cuddly aromantic, Kirishima is just one of those guys that cares about nothing more than his classmates - to the point of being a little protective sometimes. It’s a given, considering his Quirk is perfect for shielding others.

He never really thought of being in a relationship until Mina brought it up, though he’s definitely had a squish on Crimson Riot as a kid. He doesn’t really care for romance; but if someone wanted to be in a relationship with him, he would definitely be willing to try it out. There’s not much value in dating for Kirishima because he already does ‘significant other’ stuff with his friends - they get each other gifts, cuddle, take each other out on impromptu ‘dates’. Romance is nice, but he’s satisfied with what he has and doesn’t really want anything else.

(Greyromantic: Romantic attraction is felt, but it is very infrequent and muted)

Hawks/Takami - aromantic heterosexual, awkward

Created to be the perfect hero by the HPSC, he’s supposed to be marketable as well as competent. Marketability increases citizen trust, and citizen trust makes his job easier. It is important, as a hero, to foster connections with the people he protects.

At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself as he goes on another date with a fan that won some raffle.

In reality, he’s uncomfortable with the whole idea of romance and doesn’t really get it. But, as a celebrity, Hawks is contract-obligated to neither confirm nor deny anything on his sexuality. This means he doesn’t have to get in a relationship, but he also has to do things like accept dates to keep up the illusion of an eligible young bachelor looking for that special someone. To keep up the parasocial fantasies that his merchandising team run off of, he keeps himself ambiguous on the whole thing.

When asked about his single status on TV, he usually just jokes about it.

“Romance? In this economy!?”

Bonus:

Asui, Midoriya, and Burnin’ - aromantic demisexual, leaning towards women

Green

65 notes · View notes

thedeviljudges · 3 years

Note

we all love gaon being lovestruck and yearning™, but what about the other way around? yohan seeing how free and giving gaon is with his affection and being desperate and greedy for it but he's never learnt how to go about asking for this??? humans are usually cruel, so??? he wants, no he /needs/ more of it from gaon, his gentle touches and loving smiles and warm words, but how does he get it? what offer does gaon require from him in exchange for his love and kindness? it's truly an enigma,

(answering you first, and then mini fic below!!!)

!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you have my heart for this post. because!!!!!!! pining, heartsick yohan is literally what we witnessed for more than half the series, and the way gaon is able to mend people through his gentleness and kindness is why yohan falls for him to begin with—because it's unexpected, and it's different and unlike anyone (aside from isaac) he's ever met. they would certainly struggle with this after.

and the thing is, yohan does get greedy with it. he asks gaon to choose a side (even though yohan tried to get soohyun to join them and failed), but yohan doesn't know how to ask. everything he does is always misinterpreted because yohan's actions are pretty much another language. learning to actually communicate the way everyone else does is so difficult for him because he didn't have the social upbringing everyone else had, and i think that's why he struggles and would absolutely struggle in the future when they're together because yohan simply doesn't know how to ask for things (and i don't just mean verbally either. you even see his actions don't really align with what's expected of someone who is asking of something).

i think one component we haven't explored within the show is the line "i would've done anything to get you on my side." i think a lot of us have interpreted it as yohan stooping to any level to get gaon on his side (and he's even said as much), but i think it could also certainly mean that yohan would offer gaon anything—as in, yohan had to give gaon things to make him stay. yohan knew he himself wouldn't be enough. so he gave him the story of his parent's murder; he let gaon tend to his family because gaon wanted to. he let gaon go back to soohyun. these small gestures were proof of yohan's love of gaon because he literally would do anything to keep gaon on his side—he would make gaon happy at the expense of himself.

so for yohan, that has always been a conditional component without realizing that it hadn't ever been that to begin with because gaon willingly stayed by yohan's side, defended him when he wasn't around, and let himself find a family he loved. but yohan believed himself to be a monster and unworthy of that.

so WITH THAT SAID, here is a mini fic:

moving forward, yohan absolutely tries his best to find the things that generate responses from gaon he wants, and not in the traditional manner of simply asking. he gives gaon evidence for his cases sometimes, which actually makes gaon frown with upset. he buys him new suits and cuffs. there's always fresh food for gaon to cook with. anything gaon wants, he gets. but there's always an underlying worry about gaon's brow, yohan's tactics clearly not working until he finally asks, "are you not happy?"

biting the inside of his cheek, gaon sits back in his chair. the creak is loud in between the silent pause of his answer. it's been weeks, and gaon hasn't said anything. truthfully, he figured yohan's tunnel vision would pass with time, but it's certain he's more determined than ever to warm gaon up, to buy him. he hasn't quite figured out for what yet. "they certainly are nice," he admits. gaon cannot deny that luxury and taste yohan has for the finer things. but they'd never been what he'd desired.

"but you're not happy," yohan notes, the furrow in his brow an indication that the puzzle in his mind hasn't been solved.

with a sigh, gaon rubs his thumb against the middle of his forehead. "yes, these things don't make me smile."

"i see. then what would?” yohan asks, firmly. “i'll make sure of it." subtly, and without thinking, yohan's hand slide across the short distance of the table. pausing, briefly, when he realizes what he's intending, fingers twitching and heart constricting. with clear evidence, he retreats, pulls outstretched hands away from the one source of warmth he's come to love but cannot ask for.

yohan's mind is whirring, thinking of possibilities and conversations past where gaon had been full of joy. they're wispy, thin like smoke, and yohan’s unsuccessfully tried to recreate those memories. it's clear what he's done now isn't enough, but he can't quite pinpoint what sins he's committed this time to wipe away the joy gaon usually feels.

but between the movements and the dust settling, gaon's head cocks to the side. his facial expression, what was once full of frustration, evens out. yohan's slow retreat isn't subtle. it's too much movement, and gaon recognizes the tension and the restraint, blinks once, and it's still there.

mouth parting slightly, the soft oh that breaks from his lips is enough to spring him into action. shifting in his chair, gaon reaches forward before yohan has the chance to curl in on himself. quickly, gaon stops yohan's movements by curling the palm of his hands over his boyfriend's, cupping the warm skin beneath his and squeezing.

it takes him a moment, then, to figure out what he wants to say. yohan’s stilled, mouth slightly ajar, almost panicked if gaon were to guess the emotion flitting behind his eyes. he looks caught, like gaon’s saw right through him again, and if he didn’t know any better, gaon would say he was the worst at reading emotions. but yohan is different in the way that his eyes tell all, even in the moments he doesn’t want them to. “you know i love you, right?”

gaon swears he can feel the minute yohan loses his breath, throat tight where words and emotions are stuck. understandably, this is a cavern they’ve yet to explore. “do you, yohan?”

it’s curt, abrupt, but yohan nods.

gaon doesn’t approve. “you know that, don’t you?” this time when he lets one of yohan’s hands go, he turns its so the the patterns and deep lines are visible. gentle as can be, gaon traces with his fingers, too chunky and uncoordinated to follow every indent correctly.

there is still no reply, so gaon waits. for how long, he isn’t sure, but when he’s felt the tension alleviate itself, when yohan’s fingers go soft and palm stretched wide, gaon smiles. “it’s that easy,” he says, gaze flickering to meet yohan’s. “you just have to ask,” he follows up in the event yohan’s not listening. but by the subtle lift of his lip, gaon knows it to be true. “just ask.”

then, gaon cups yohan’s wrist, nudges until he’s guiding yohan, until his lips press deeply into the warm skin of yohan’s hand. the gasp is quiet, and yohan tries to pull away at first, but gaon doesn’t let go. as insistent as he can be, gaon continues, pressing light, tender kisses until every surface is covered. “ask me, yohan,” gaon commands, thumb replacing his lips. he rubs carefully, continues building warmth and honesty between them.

this is difficult for yohan, gaon knows that much. the swallow, the pinprick of tears. but this isn’t punishment either. gaon is grateful for what he’s given, and more so for the family he was allowed to call his, but that is not all there is, that exists. gaon is not the only piece in this very thread that links them all together.

it takes a few tries, but gaon knows how to be patient. yohan’s lips part, and then they close. he works his jaw, and he blinks far too many times in the span of a minute. but it’s the cusp of trying, so gaon waits even more. he draws patterns with one hand, keeps his fingers intertwined with yohan’s other.

eventually, yohan squeezes gaon’s attention back to himself and smiles in that half-sincere, half-forced manner he’s used to when elijah asks for a favor and yohan wants to say no but cannot.

“will you sit with me?” he says, nearly devoid of emotion, but gaon doesn’t take it to heart. instead, he smiles, his eye whiskers deepening as he does.

“and hold your hand?” gaon prompts. he scrunches his nose, drawing yohan’s attention with narrowed eyes, like he’s finally caught on to gaon’s game.

shoulders slumped in defeat, but the layers of distress unraveling quickly, yohan returns gaon’s grin with one of his own. “and hold my hand,” he says, with just a hint of reluctance.

once more, gaon leans down to kiss the palm of yohan’s hand, letting go to stand up. the chair scratches against the floor from the quick movement, leaving no time for yohan’s bearings when gaon rounds the table.

the close proximity is nothing new for them, but gaon’s forwardness in these instances surprise yohan the more they live together, the barriers broken and the bridges building. gaon reaches for yohan’s hand, firm and solid and he pulls yohan up onto his feet with little effort. yohan’s balance wavers, catching himself between the table and gaon. the deep rumble of gaon’s chest is much like one of kkomi’s purrs, the laughter slipping through a bright smile.

yohan’s breath doesn’t quite return to the state it had once been in before this conversation, but how could it when gaon pulls them close, leading them into the living? the demands he has are no match for yohan, and it’s not as if he’d fight the younger on it anyway. but it’s different like this, when gaon looks at him expectantly now, asking yohan to take the lead any way he wants.

the request, even if silent, is a new one for him. it’s overwhelming, and he almost loses the ability to think clearly until gaon’s gentle voice reaches out like the lifeline yohan’s learned he loves. “yohan?”

he nods, deeply, the courage not all the way there. he thinks how much of a coward he is in this moment in comparison to the life he’s lived, why this scares him above all and most importantly, why he’s afraid of letting one of the only person he trusts see him for what he needs.

yohan’s tongue is thick, and his mouth is dry. he’ll choke on his words, but gaon is there and despite how nervous he feels, he’s never felt safer in his life. caught on a short intake of breath, yohan lowers his gaze to the couch and thinks about what he’d like, if he could have it.

“hold me?” he asks quietly, but to his own ears, it sounds like the loudest thing in the world. he does not look at gaon at any moment, and he doesn’t miss the accelerated rise and fall of his chest until his hand is dropped and gaon is cupping his face.

the man before him with honey-kind eyes and tenderness searches yohan’s face for a time, pulled into the lull of an emotion that encompasses only the two of them.

when gaon is satisfied with whatever he’s found, his fond peaks through again, smile wide and eyes hidden in mirth. “gladly, yohan. i will hold you forever.”

yohan’s never understood the expression of one’s heart singing, but he thinks maybe there are some things that are true if he can feel it; they just have to be experienced in the most delightful way possible.

and maybe it’s not so bad asking sometimes when he has the courage, however few and far between it’s there, because sitting with gaon like this, with his arm draped around yohan’s shoulders, pressed deeply into his chest as they watch tv, is more than he could’ve asked for. and he knows, logically, he can have it again. he’ll want it again for as long as gaon will have him.

#x #the devil judge #can you believe i wrote a mini fic holy shit lmao #i dont think this is good enough for ao3 tbh i think it might be too short #but ig if anyone wants me to i can post it there?#id polish it up a bit bc this is just me going for it #anyway look at my terrible writing!!!#lawful husbands #the devil judge fic recs

101 notes · View notes

dodo-begone · 3 years

Text

Ugly Fuckling

Pairing: Yandere!Xisuma x Reader

Request: mmm for requests: some soft yandere shit with any character, maybe??

Word count: 3.9K

Warning: yandere, cursing, depression (?), Anxiety (?), angst (to comfort), dissociation

Part 2 for this is Now Listen Here Sad Bitches - Stop Being Sad

If this EVER looks funky/glitched (which it def is now) I have this up properly on Ao3.

__________________________________________________________

The shopping district made you uneasy. Life just seemed to course through the area. Even without anyone actually being there to give it the energy. It was cramped though; everything was practically on top of each other. Yet it gave such a homey feeling. Like everybody who made the buildings actually liked each other; they all were a representation of how everyone was different but still similar to a family. Standing in front of all of the shops made you feel intimidated. Small, insignificant, inadequate.

You start your journey through the district, looking and giving every build the attention it deserved. It was all in an attempt to imbed everything into your memory. After all, you wouldn’t be around for much longer. Someone like you, who was so alien to the server, shouldn’t just try and worm their way into such an amazing community like this. Especially when they have nothing to offer for said community.

You hadn’t realized where you were walking until you stood in front of Grian’s barge. It was so gorgeous and well made. Grian told you how it began as a small little boat build and progressively grew to the giant floating market it is today. The story was awe inspiring; like an ugly duckling, it grew into something majestic after starting at such humble beginnings. Yet it did little to lift your spirits now. Yeah the barge started as a simple build, but it was still beautiful in its tiny state. And Grian had the talent and skill to make ginormous and intricate builds. You had neither of those abilities.

Slowly you made your way closer to the barge. At the entrance there were numerous posters all bunched together on a post. All for the mayoral campaign. They were so cute, each having a unique look. Representing their mayors very well. But Scar’s. Oh Scar’s was just elite. It was a plain wooden sign; a small but even more unique technique when compared to the others. Nothing beat some good ole fashioned petitioning. You let out a small giggle at the sight of Scar’s sign next to the others. It seemed very out of place. Seemed like a solid representation of you with the hermits. And at the same time it reminded you so much of the Dream smp.

The Dream smp… your old home. Calling the dream smp home feels wrong; you barely felt safe there, but you knew that you were wanted there. Even if just a few actually cared about you, loved you. You fit in so much better there. Your horrendous builds could easily blend in with the others or better yet, stand out amongst the surrounding disasters to look semi-decent. Yes there were actual beautiful builds, just like any other server, but they were few and far between. Those builds were under constant threat of being griefed or destroyed, just like all of the others. Yet everybody seemed mostly okay with it. They would be upset when it would be destroyed, like any normal person would. But they only had two options when presented with the rubble; pick up the fragments and rebuild from the ground up or forever abandon what was once a masterpiece.

With the hermits, there was order there. The chaos was controlled, which was an odd concept to you. Chaos on the Dream smp ran rampant, destroying anything in its path. And there even seemed to be a “type” of person that was deemed a “hermit”. Thought it was hard to pick out something that everybody had in common. But you knew one thing; you didn’t fit the description of a hermit.

On the Dream smp, everything was always on the brink of destruction and very tense. Things could change on the flip of a dime. Nothing was guaranteed. And yet you still wanted to go back there. To feel wanted, important, enough, to be validated. To be so much more than you were with the hermits. With the hermits, you were only an imposter; everything they said to or about you was a lie. Had to be a lie. Why else would you be like this super kinda and incredible person? The person they were describing wasn't even you. It was a whole different person, how could they not see that?!

Leaning against the outerwall of the barge, you slowly slide to the ground. You start a panoramic view from your new position. It only made you feel worse; you felt detached from your body. Like you were watching a movie of you and your life from an outsider’s view. But you had control of your body and could still kinda see through your eyes, which made it feel even weirder. So more like you were walking through a movie that you weren’t made for; a real person wandering the domain of a cartoon show.

A shaky breath breaks it way through your lips. Trails of tears soon start to trickle down your face, slightly obscuring the view you had. Suddenly the world becomes too big yet too small. Much duller, less important. Everything became too much yet not enough all at the same time. Soon the feeling overwhelmed you so much that you broke down into a sobbing mess. The wanted to hide your face in your hands and knees hung over you like a tsunami wave, but you knew you shouldn’t. These were your last moments and views of the hermitcraft server. Even if you couldn’t see clearly anymore. Any view was better than no view. You tried to muffle your cries; do anything to stay silent and unseen. Nobody really wanted to deal with a crying person. They just felt obligated to.

God you were such a burden on all of the hermits. You could barely support yourself with your shitty little farm. Barely any food was produced. And the hermits kept giving you stuff: ores, food, weapons, armour, just about anything you could think of. Golden carrots, golden apples, elytras, diamonds and netherite were the gifts that made you feel the worst. These were such wonderful, valuable, and useful items. Nobody would give them out for free, even to a friend. Especially as often as they did.

So you’d set out on a journey to figure out who’d gifted you stuff and return it immediately. First you just left them in a chest with a book or sign explaining that you didn’t want to accept their gift. It felt wrong that they were giving them such nice stuff. They’d always bring it back to you though. It burned your heart. Both from how sweet the gesture was and the physical pain you felt taking it from them. After a few cycles of this, people started to stop telling you who gave you that new item of yours. Even when you begged them for answers.

You had to turn to more drastic measures. Every gift you got was soon carefully investigated for any sign of who could’ve given it to you. There wasn't a way to easily get an answer from the other hermits. They had gotten suspicious of your past tactics, so you had to change your approach.

So you went with the closest guess. Even if they weren’t the one to give it to you, you’d give it to them. When the “gifter” left their base, you’d swiftly sneak in and start to put the items back in their storage. Many of them had chest monsters, so it was easier to put the items in their chests. After all, they wouldn’t really notice more items in the giant mess of items they already had. Then there were the ones with organized sorting systems. You’d search for their proper homes and place them in there. Since these people usually had big storage facilities, it wouldn't be hard to hide a few other items in there. What were the odds that they’d notice that they had a little more of an item than they last remember?

Aw who were you kidding, they’d obviously notice a whole inventory’s worth of golden carrots in their chests. But you deluded yourself into believing that your attempts worked. Believing a beautiful life was much easier and felt better than facing the less-than enjoyable truth.

When you finally calmed down enough, you went over your mental plan again. It had to be absolutely perfect. With no flaws or kinks. This couldn’t fail. Every attempt before had ended in fucking failure. You’d look so bad to the hermits if you failed in leaving again. Why did you still care about what they thought of you? That’s such a silly thing to still care about.

Each plan before had one step that’d always thwarted your leave; you always said goodbye to somebody. At first it started with a big group of hermits, but with each attempt the group got smaller and smaller.

When you’d go to say your goodbyes, the hermit you were talking to would get upset. They’d begged you to stay. Or they’d ask you to help them on this one last project. And then another hermit would ask, and then another. Until you were helping a hermit as soon as you finished a project. You were almost never alone for a while. Slowly the thought of leaving would be pushed further and further back into your mind. Until it was practically gone; only echoes of it would remain to haunt you at night. This was a continuous cycle, and you wanted it to end.

This time you weren’t going to get stopped. Having fewer people in the plan makes it easier to leave. That meant nobody was going to get an in-person goodbye. Everybody had an individual letter addressed to them from you and one for the entire server. It was better this way. They wouldn’t have the chance to stop you.

You don’t know how much time passed, nor did you really care. God you wanted to stay here so bad, yet you couldn’t. This wasn’t where you belonged. You weren’t meant to be here.

With a heavy sign, you hauled yourself off the ground and made your way to the edge of the server. Every moment was precious now, so you decided to dawdle as much as you could. Nobody was going to stop you, so you had time. After all, nobody was going to be finding the letters anytime soon.

To savor every last second on the server, you traversed by boat and foot. Yes you’d miss the elytras, but you wanted to travel the old fashioned way. The way you were used to doing it. Elytras weren’t on the Dream smp, so you needed to start getting used to not having them again.

It felt like seconds before you were at the edge. A few blinks and bam! You were at your final destination on the Hermitcraft server. It was now or never. All you had to do was take a few steps over and you would be back on the Dream smp. Yet your feet refused to move. Why weren’t they moving? This was for the greater good. Yes you wouldn’t be happy there immediately, but you’d grow used to it again.

You started to take deep breaths, trying to hype yourself up to take the final steps. It was like three steps, come on. You can do it. The trip here was longer and harder than this. Don’t let something this small ruins all the work you’ve done. God it was like you were like a walking failure. You couldn’t even finish something you started, something you wanted done. A small part of you whispered, begged you to say with the hermits. But it was soon covered by a much louder part of the mind, telling you that this was the best thing you could do for everyone. Come on, they wouldn’t miss you at all. With one final breath, you took a step forward.

“What’re you doing?” a voice seemed to yell. God it was so quiet. Why was it so quiet? Literally any noise was too loud now.

You stopped. Oh no, did you take too long getting here? Man you really should’ve used that elytra instead. Would’ve made this trip so much easier and faster.

Slowly you turn around to see who interrupted you. And low and behold, it’s Xisuma. He was a little ways away from you, which you were thankful for. It was surprising to see him so far away from the server though. Did he find the notes. Shit, fuck, no no no-. You really hope he hadn’t found them.

“I’m just looking around” a nervous shell of your voice answers. It sounded so empty, like the wind could easily blow it away with just a single gentle gust. You desperately look over where Xisuma’s face would be in hopes of finding out what he was feeling or thinking. That mask of his blocked it, so it was futile. But you had to know what he thought about you now. Was he disappointed? Did he hate you? Especially for how you tried to leave?

“This far out,” he spreads his arms out, gesturing to the world around y’all. It was practically deserted. There was only an island, and you two were standing on it. Ocean covered the world to the horizon. Logically you knew you had no reason to be out here other than to leave. You knew Xisuma knew as well. He had to. He was the admin, after all.

“Uh,” you frantically look around, hoping to find anything to help you get out of this tense situation. You hated this. Hated confrontation. This was a reason you left the Dream smp. “Yeah I wanted a good sight for the uh- for the sunset. Yes, the sunset! It’s so pretty when you’re so far from the mainland. Away from all the buildings that could obstruct the view.”

It took a second for your words to finally hit you, and when they did it felt like a slap to the face. “I’m not saying the builds are bad,” you desperately backpedal, trying to change the possible interpretation of your words. “I mean they’re very big. Big and pretty! Yes, very pretty! But they block the skyline so easily and the sunset and sunrise are just hidden by them. And sometimes the light pollution really gets in the way of stargazing- I’m rambling aren’t I? I’m sorry.”

You stared at Xisuma, wishing for him to give you any sign as to what he was thinking. But the black visor thwarted you attempts again; his face was unviewable with his helmet on.

Wait how could you have been so self absorbed to not notice what Xisuma is wearing. He adorned a little bee/wasp (you had a hard time telling the difference at the moment) themed outfit. It was like a whole bodysuit. And he had a little bee/wasp helmet too! Oh my gosh it was the little bee outfit he owned! The one you really liked! He was actually wearing it? The outfit you said looked really good on him? No, wait. He might just like it as well. That’s probably why he’s wearing it. Stupid, remember you’re not special. Especially to anyone. Why can’t you get that through your thick brain?

Xisuma must have seen the emotional trip you just went on. It must’ve been obvious, right? Written all over your face?

“You’re not wrong,” Xisuma starts. “The builds can be rather disruptive of a good view of the sunset or sunrise. But if you wanted a good viewing spot, you could’ve just asked me. I wouldn’t have minded showing you one.”

“That would’ve been such a stupid thing to ask,” you sniffle, barely having the strength to look him in the eyes. Well, where his eyes should be. “Going up to an admin and saying ‘I can’t see the sunrise or sunset well. Can you show me a good viewing spot’ isn’t exactly something you ask an admin. Usually it’s something along the lines of ‘hey this player took my stuff’ or ‘I’m stuck in a hole and need help.’”

Silence smothers the two of you. Your words were heavy. Made your mouth dry too. Wow is it hot out or just you? It’s really fucking hot out here.

“Again,” Xisuma breaks the silence,” I wouldn’t have minded at all. I’m here for you. For the hermits. And I’m here to help. Why do you think my help wouldn’t extend to you?”

You ponder over his question. Now that he states it like that, how can you just make up a stupid excuse? The care he showed in his explanation made you feel warm and fuzzy. Even if it wasn’t a lot. It made you feel special. Just for that moment. He doesn’t deserve a sucky lie. He deserved the truth. You owed it to him. Then you’ll stop being a bother to him and leave. Right… leave.

“Because I’m not a hermit, Xisuma,” you murmur, hugging yourself for comfort. “I don’t think I ever was. Or ever will be, for that matter.”

“And why not,” Xisuma prods, taking a step towards you. “You are a hermit. You’re on the hermit server and you have been for quite a while now. Everyone loves you. They love you so much. I love you so much.”

That question hurts you. It hurts you so much and yet you have no reason for it to hurt you this much. The statement was false and you knew it. So it shouldn’t hold this much power over you. He’s wrong and you know it. But how do you break it to him?

Yeah, break the news to him. The only thing breaking is you. Xisuma’s mask, which you had once adored, scared you. Intimidated you and made you feel inadequate. The more you looked, the worse you felt.

And so you give in. “Because I’m not one of you. I’d never be one of you. No matter what I did, it’d never amount to what everyone else can do! Grian can make magnificent builds, Scar can landscape like a god, and Mumbo can make literally anything and everything out of redstone. Everybody has something that they’re good at, something they specialize in. And me,” your voice cracks. You drop to the ground on your knees, curling into yourself. “I can’t do anything. I can’t build, can’t farm and I can’t even do simple redstone. I’m a literal dunce. I’ll never be able to do anything right. I’ll never be enough, especially on a server like this with so many incredible people like you. And everyone is so nice. I don’t deserve this kindness. I’m a horrible person. And-and I just don’t belong here. It’d be better if a burden like me is gone, out of your hair. It’d be better if I went back to the Dream smp. Where I can’t be a burden to anybody here.” You finally break down. Sobs shook your body and any words that came out after that were unintelligible.

Suddenly there’s a presence near you, giving you a hug. You flinch, but know it’s Xisuma. Who else could it be? He was the only one here with you. He lets go of you slowly, but you quickly latch onto him and hide in the crook of his neck. You really wanted some comfort. You wanted Xisuma’s hugs. You didn’t want to be left alone.

He goes back to gently holding you, quietly telling you that everything was going to be okay. And other things. Everything just went in one ear and out the other. But he’s giving you soft and steady backrubs. You snuggle closer to him. God this was like a whole comfort package! It just made you want to cry harder. And he just stays there! Letting you cry on him. He’s so nice to little ole you.

Soon you tuckered yourself out from crying. You’re so tired, but you’re still crying. Sadness just courses through you. But you’re so tired. Slowly your sobs turn to sniffle and you try to bring him even closer to you.

“Feel any better,” he tries his best to look at you after your sniffles are all that’re coming out of you. It’s really hard to look at someone so close to you.

You nod against him, too tired to answer verbally. Plus your voice probably sounds terrible and wouldn’t be able to handle answering anyways.

He picks you up, holding you close to him and walks away from the border. You’re so thankful that Xisuma is carrying you. It makes you feel so loved. And your body was so weak after your breakdown.

Soon you two are on a boat, heading back to the rest of the hermits. He’s rowing y’all home. You cuddle into him, wanting as much physical contact as you can get. You’re so tired, but you don’t want to sleep just yet. But you still doze off anyways. As you do though, Xisuma starts to talk to you.

“Thank you for staying with us. With me. I really appreciate that. I love you, remember that. I’ll tell you that a million times if I have to. I’d tell you daily, hourly. Whatever you want. Just don’t leave, please. I love you so much. It’d hurt if you left. If I lost you. But it also hurts to see you in so much pain. Oh I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you sooner. I should've seen the signs. But I’m here. I’ll help you. I love you so much. I’ll stay with you as long as you’re with me. I’d follow you to the end and back.”

You can’t exactly hear what he’s saying, but it must be really nice. The tone of it is so comforting. Wait hold up. Weren’t you doing something. Struggling to stay awake, you mind scrambles for an answer. The border. Yes, the border! You were there. But for what? You couldn’t remember anymore. But was it important if you forgot? Oh who cares, you got Xisuma with you! You were home! That’s all that mattered.

As you finally start to drift off, you mutter an ‘i love you’ to him, finally falling into a well deserved slumber.

#tw: yandere #dodo writing #mcyt x reader #tw: cursing #tw: depression #tw: anxiety #tw: dissociation #tw: angst #hermitcraft x reader #xisuma x reader #yandere #yandere xisuma #c: xisuma #hermitship

202 notes · View notes

extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

Text

willow

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: violence, harassing

a/n: part two of cardigan, hope you enjoy xx

CARDIGAN - INVISIBLE STRING

- I’m not going to work wearing this. - Y/N stepped out of her bedroom in the dress Pietro had brought her. When he told her he had a black dress laying around she thought he meant maybe the sort of dress you’d wear for a first date, not what she had on at this moment. The dress was short, very short, barely hitting her mid thigh in a fashion that made her have to push her dress down every time she walked in fear she would be flashing someone yet that wasn’t the worse part, no, the worse par was the décolletage. It was plunging, hitting the end of her sternum leaving little to no imagination about the shape and size of her breasts.

- Well hello Y/N’s breasts. - he joked, receiving a slap in the back of his head from his twin sister. - I’m sorry, Y/N. They’re staring at me, I had to say something.

- What kind of dates are you having? - Wanda asked dumbfounded as she started to search for a safety pin to help mend the situation and make it look a bit more work appropriate. Walking up to her, she pinned two sections of the fabric, successfully diminishing the size of the décolletage. - It looks ... nice.

- Is he going to kill me if I show up like this to work? - she pointed at the whole ensemble which was very foreign to her. She was cold and uncomfortable and although the bar tended itself to be very warm once the lights were on, she was already plenty uncomfortable working there. The two twins shared a look that she could only described as “I have no idea” which did little to no good in aiding her nerves. With nothing else to do, she grabbed her worn out bag from the hanger and waved her goodbyes to the twins. Surely it couldn’t be that bad.

It’s just a dress, Y/N. She told herself as she padded the cobblestone grounds that led into the town centre, the dreaded town centre where she was needed to work. At least you have some cute shoes, she reassured herself, looking at her plain black Mary Janes with a buckle which made the shoe extra snug. Adding to the nerves of her dress, she kept convincing herself today she would get some information for her father, even if it was Bucky’s shoe size. It didn’t matter, she was going to get some information and make her father proud.

As she stepped into the bar, she noted the absence of Bobby. Probably it was her due turn to open shop which she wouldn’t mind would it not be for the fact she could barely move in that dress. Nevertheless, she quickly got to work, wiping the surfaces clean and placing the plastic menus on them followed by a few bowls of peanuts which Bobby always told her to keep her eyes on and not let go empty. The whole thing took less than five minutes and as she finished, she leaned against the counter watching the inside of the building. Everything was so meticulously placed, arranged in shades that matched. It was perfectly linear, symmetrical even and probably the work of a perfectionist architecture. It was peaceful when no one was around but that emptiness was soon interrupted by the door being open and in stepped the notorious Mr. Barnes.

Y/N pushed her dress straight, trying not to look professional and somewhat invisible so that he wouldn’t stare her in the eye. That tactic immediately failed as once the door shut behind him and his pristine suit, his head turned to the bar.

- What are you doing behind the bar? - his hands stood against his hips, touching the holster where a very shiny revolver laid, a warning sign not to mess with him.

- I’m opening.

- You’re waitressing today.

- I’m not a waitress. - he slightly widened his eyes, taking a step forward, grin on his face. He leaned against the counter, finger under his chin.

- You are today.

- I don’t know how to wait on people.

- You don’t know how to bartend them either now step behind that bar and go grab a tray. - he barked the orders at her but Y/N remained still. No, absolutely not, she was not going to wait around in the tightest, shortest dress created by man.

- I would rather ... I would rather not, sir. - she pulled at the front of her dress, eyes moving from his inspecting and scaring gaze.

- I didn’t ask you what you would rather. You have five seconds.

Y/N didn’t like being scolded by anyone, specially by a man like him but the shiny revolver on his hip made her act more sensibly and as such she shyly stepped behind the bar, stopping a few meters away from him. His gaze followed her legs, from her hips to her toes and he himself took a step back.

- You could’ve told me you didn’t have a dress.

- I have a dress. - she put her hands on her waist, defensively. - What do you think I am wearing?

- I was hoping you would tell me.

- Can I just bartend today, Mr. Barnes? Please.

- Absolutely not.

She wanted to argue with him, she really did, she thought she could change his mind but yet again she wasn’t stupid enough to argue with him and as such, she walked slowly to the back of the bar to grab one of the sticky metal trays. Fantastic, she went from having a counter separating her from everyone to suddenly being in the middle of them. The lights were on, the music was loud and suddenly every table was putting their hands up for her to come take their orders.

Now Y/N had done several things she wasn’t a fan of and seen even more than stomach churning evidence from her time at university but walking back and forward in the damned was officially the worse thing to have come out of her early 20s and as she leaned against the bar to cool off and take a break, someone was yelling her name for more drinks. She had officially become “Hey you” rather than Y/N. Mid shift she had decided to start hiding away from most tables, getting lost in the middle of the crowd dancing which was proving to be effective until the table she could not ignore raised their hands. James Barnes’ table. Why he was in a table surrounded by other men when he usually stood safely in his back office she didn’t know but what she did know was that whatever they were talking about was surely something her father would like to know. So, with a smile in her very tired face, she made her way towards the table.

James Barnes sat with two other men who were equally as intimidating than he was yet there was no question as to who held the most power. Holding the tray on her left hand she waited to be shouted the orders through the music.

- Hey, you’re new! - the blonde man sat to James’ left pointed at her, smile on his face which immediately dissolved whatever sort of intimidating nature used to decorate his features. - I didn’t know we had a new waitress.

- We don’t. - James corrected, not even turning to look at her. - Y/N is on the floor tonight to cover for someone. She’s usually a lousy bartender.

- Can I get a beer? The coldest one you can find, please. - the other man sat next to James asked, charming smile on. - Steve will have the same. James ...

- Glenlivet, I know. - Y/N interjected, forgetting for a second of who she was dealing with. As she remembered, she immediately walked away from the table to go grab the orders before they took her hostage.

- Two cold beers and a Glenlivet on the rocks please Bobby.

- The floor’s giving you a rough time, kid? - he placed two beers on her tray and turned around to grab the precious 1862 Glenlivet only Mr. Barnes was allowed to drink for. In Y/N’s opinion, it was a weird drink older than both her and him together yet she guessed owning old scotch made him somehow powerful.

- Dress’ giving me a rough time. - she gave him an exasperated smile before taking her tray back to the table, placing it into the centre. James still didn’t meet her eye, instead grabbing the coloured liquid and downing it as if it was water in a manner which even surprised the two men accompanying him. - Can I get you anything else?

- No, thank you. - Steve, or at least she guessed was his name, replied handing her a folded black leathered cover. Y/N took it, not ready to make any questions before returning to the bar. Once there, she opened the cover to reveal at least 300 pounds. Did they want more drinks? Did she mishear the song again as a drink order?

- Nice tip, kid. - Bobby peaked at the money she was holding. - Rogers and Wilson always tip well.

- This is a tip? I get to keep this? - she looked dumfounded at the money on her hand which was enough to pay her half the rent and she had just made in less than a minute.

- All waitresses get to keep their tips. Did you not know?

- No, I thought people wanted more drinks.

- You’re adorable, kid. If you don’t tip your waitress here, you get kicked out. Barnes doesn’t like cheapskates in his club, ruins the image.

- Oh ... I ... can you keep it while I finish my job?

- Just put it with your things.

She placed the money safely with her bag and returned to the dance floor. Surely they were gonna ask her for something, no one just gave 300 pounds as if it were nothing and didn’t expect something. Nothing is free in life, her father had told her and she whole heartily believed him yet there were 300 pounds more to her name in less than one minute so she wondered if maybe some things were for free. Nevertheless, Y/N continued with her shift plan by hiding in the middle on the dance floor and every so often peaking out to serve some tables. As she exited the dance floor, someone pulled her in and she hit what she thought was someone’s chest, hands holding her hip in place.

- Get off me. - she tried to walk forward, but she was pulled back once more. Turning around she grabbed her tray with both hands and hit whoever was holding her and trying to grind on her over the head. The man blinked slowly, hand resting on his head and she repeated her motions. - I said take your hand off me, RIGHT NOW!

- Hey, what’s wrong here? - of course. The man must have hidden mics arounds the dance floor so he can sense when someone isn’t adhering to their strict patterns of conduct.

- He was grinding on me. - Y/N kicked her way fully of the man’s embrace. She thought it’d be best to put her defence forward first before she got to be the second person to have their head smashed against the counter.

- I don’t have the time for this. Steve, get him off here. - he motioned to the blonde who came up from behind. She hanged onto her tray as if it were her life source, expecting whatever punishment was coming her way. - And you go back to the bar and stay there.

Y/N wanted to feel sorry for the poor soul who was being pulled out of the club for Steve yet all she could feel was grateful for the fact she no longer had to stay on the floor. The rest of the night was uneventful, all she could hear them talk about was some exchange yet nothing else of importance to her, or something which would create a breakthrough in the case. Soon the monotonous voice came through the speakers, warning people of the imminent end of the night.

Everyday was the same thing. She would go into the club, collect whatever breadcrumb information she could get from her father and return them to the police. Everyday she would come in, prepare the same drinks, ignore the same comments and for a month all she could get was nothing but the fact that Barnes, Wilson and Rogers constantly spoke about a trade taking place later on the year which as good as nothing but it was something strong enough to keep her undercover. Today was no different, she had come in a few hours early, it was only a mid shift and she wanted to set things the way she liked when Mr. Barnes came stumbling into the bar, holding his hand against his forehead, red liquid running down his pale hand.

- Where the fuck is Bobby? - he barked, pulling a chair with his foot to sit down.

- He’s on holiday. - she spoke calmly but her heart was beating against her ribcage like a drum as her shaking hands grabbed the first aid kit from under the bar and rushed over to him. Whoever had the guts to cause a wound to the mob boss would surely be okay with following him in and that was all she could think about. Nevertheless, she was a nurse in training, she should be calm. She wasn’t calm. - Can I see?

- Don’t you have something to do?

- Let me help, please. - her touch was soft, softer than any touch he’d ever felt as her hand laid upon his, slightly yet effortlessly pushing his hand away from the gash close to his hairline. Her lips tightened as her finger pushed some of the hair away from the wound, it wasn’t bad. It was deep but not deep enough it would require any immediate stitching, some cleaning and maybe butterfly band-aids and he’d be able to go back to intimidating people. - I’m going to clean it and then I’ll bandage the wound. It might sting, please don’t shoot me if it does.

- Is that what you think I do? - he furrowed his eyebrow, forgetting about the wound just above it as she rummaged through their first aid kit for something that would suffice in disinfecting his wound as she was sure health, safety and cleaning procedures weren’t something a mobster would consider when picking their weapon of choice. - You think I shot people just because they hurt me?

- That’s what I’ve heard. - she shrugged it off as if they were having a casual conversation, as if he had asked her if she enjoyed the weather. She heard rumours, several of them coming from Wanda, Pietro and other people she surrounded herself with and while she would’ve discredited them in any other situation, she had her father’s confirmation that one does not mess with James Barnes and comes back whole. - Big bad mob boss … it’s what they show in mobster books and movies.

- Trust me petal, if I hurt someone they’ve had it coming. - he leaned upon his own shoulder inspecting her. - Besides, I don’t do the dirty work.

- Enlighten me, then. - she loosened up. Make the patient comfortable was always rule number one as her lecturers and superiors would tell her and although the man in front of her was the furthest thing from someone who’d become comfortable with someone, what she was doing would eventually sting and she’d rather have him happy than upset. James grabbed the salt and pepper sets laying on top of the table, pulling the salt to lay in front of every other container.

- In your regular mob you have an hierarchy. - he moved the salt and pepper around in almost chess-like manner. - You have your boss, your underboss, capo, consigliere and soldiers. Soldiers do the dirty work, they do the shooting.

- What do you do then? - she cocked an eyebrow at him, drenching the cotton round in the alcohol filled liquid which always made her feel slightly sick.

- I’m the boss, petal. Your question should be what the other’s do.

- Okay, I bite. - she got closer to him, hand resting on the side of his face as she started to dab the dried and wet blood away from his wound. - What do the others do?

- The underboss is … I guess what you could call a vice-president. They make decisions but ultimately answer to me, not that Steve listens to me anyway. Your consigliere is impartial, he comes in whenever you need an impartial decision either between capos or families. Your capos are the heads of their own families and have their sort of hierarchy, they are the lieutenants and can be or not be related to the boss and finally you got your soldiers, they do the dirty work. Although, I must say that sometimes I do enjoy applying the punishment.

- So Steve’s your underboss… - she continued to clean the wound, waiting for the moment he would hiss and throw her away but he remained still, comfortable even. - Is Sam one of your soldiers?

- Sam’s a consigliere and a damned good one although he is a pain. - she went back to her sit, putting the cotton round in the bin and grabbing some bandaids. - But I know about it, why don’t you tell me about you?

- Bobby said you run a background check on everyone. I don’t think I would be much surprising. - much of her profile was real yes, but most important details have been altered so he wouldn’t suspect her or wonder why the Capitan’s daughter was applying for a position in his bar.

- What do you fear most in life?

- Why would you ask me that?

- If you know people’s fears, you’re normally in control of them. Fear controls everyone, if you control their fears, you control them.

- Do you wanna control me, Mr. Barnes? Is that it? - she had a little smile gracing her features as she bandaged both sides of the wound together.

James wondered what she was smiling about. People like to believe they’re uncontrollable or if they’re controllable that only themselves hold that people yet Y/N just seemed to mindlessly agree with that control, something which her actions forcibly went against. Nevertheless, she still had this peaceful smile on as she finished patching him up.

- You’re all ready.

- Thanks. - his voice rumbled in a tone low enough it could be considered both menacing and thankful at the same time. Nevertheless, this was probably the first time she had heard him say thanks to anyone. - What are you doing here anyway? Phoenix covers over Bobby’s shifts when he’s on holiday and you don’t start in five hours at least.

- Oh ... my flatmate is going on a date with this guy and she wants to bring him home so I have to finish early to check into the motel near campus. They said they only check in people until midnight. I asked Phoenix and he said it was okay.

- What motel near campus? The Love Locket?

- Yes, it’s close to university and I have class at 8AM so I can’t go anywhere further.

- That’s where you take your prostitute or mistress not where you spend a night.

- Thank you for the warning, I guess? - she shrugged. Of course she knew that, she would even hear some of the younger students bolster about how they brought their one night stands there but if it made Wanda happy, Y/N would sleep on the street if necessary.

- You’re not staying at the Love Locket, Y/N. You’ll get robbed or kidnapped.

- I don’t have anything precious or valuable enough to get stolen and if someone kidnapped me they would soon get bored of me. I’ve been called the human equivalent of vanilla ice cream before.

- You’re not staying there, that’s final. I’m not in the mood to hire another lousy bartender if you go missing.

- Where do you suggest I stay then? - she packed the supplies onto the small blue box, walking up to behind bar to put it back.

- Don’t you have any other friends?

- Her twin brother is keen on having company every night too and I wouldn’t want to be asked to join it or even listen to it.

- You can stay with me tonight. Next time have arrangements done.

- I’m not staying with you.

She didn’t mean for it to sound ungrateful, she would never want to be ungrateful but she also knew not to go into the house of strangers although her father would probably tell her too. How funny, normally a father would do the opposite but being in the mob boss’ house had their own perks. Surely he would keep some sort of valuables, information maybe contact numbers of bottom feeders who’d be willing to collaborate for a chance to put their boss behind bars and gain his spot. Anything. Yet Y/N’s most forceful and convincing side was telling her no. It wasn’t she was particular untrusting of him, after all he had been nothing but civil with her for the past days and would always drive her home. She guessed if he wanted to kill her, he would’ve done it already but every single day her heart weighed heavy with the thought of him discovering her lie and putting an end to her life.

- I might not know what you fear the most, but I do know what you fear.

He strolled from the table to the counter, hands buried in the pockets of his tailored trousers. Y/N looked at him through her eyelashes, hands behind her own back as he took the revolver off his holster and placed it on the counter.

- You are really afraid I’m going to kill you. Aren’t you, petal?

- It’s not an absurd fear, Mr. Barnes.

- Have you ever seen me kill someone?

- No.

- Have I ever threatened you?

- No.

- Have I put you in danger?

- No.

- Then it is an absurd fear, petal. - he slide his gun off the counter, returning it to its usual place near his hip. - Come find me after you’re done with your shift. Don’t cause any trouble.

- Yes, Mr. Barnes. - she had soon learned there was no use in saying no to him. He got his way all the time, he was used to getting his way so she wondered why she even contested him.

The shift was the same as per usual yet all she could think about what spending the night at a mob boss’ house. She had messaged her father during her break and he was ecstatic, telling her to take photos and videos and collect whatever she could find of use. In all honesty, Y/N had expected him to tell her to be safe but instead it was just a lead. She was scared, she was so scared that all of this was a veil of comfort he was casting over her to make sure she was a dumb little sheep walking into his trap. She begged for the clock to turn back as it hit 11PM and Phoenix told her it was okay to go.

She held her purse against her chest, pulling onto the leather strap as she moved through the dance floor and into the VIP area where Mr. Barnes was chatting with Steve who smiled once he saw her.

- Hey Y/N. Waiting on us tonight?

- No ... I’m just here for Mr. Barnes. - she played with the hem of her bag, cheeks hot as she thought of the implications her word might have.

- Is your shift over already? - he placed his half empty glass on the table and got up, hand holding his jacket. She nodded hesitantly, she was going to be fine, she was going to be fine. - Alright, then.

- Well, it was nice to see you, Y/N. We’ll speak about this later, Buck.

- Let’s go. - he put his hand on her back, driving her through the sea of people kissing, dancing and drinking. He wondered if that what she liked to do on her free time, if she was like the girls who came up here on the weekends and Fridays looking for a good time yet she seemed to shut everything out.

As they got deeper into the back of the club, she felt him drape something soft and warm over her. Looking to her left she recognised the fabric of her old cardigan, the one she had left in the same car she was now entering. The driver was mostly silent, Y/N mostly looking for the comfort given to her by the old garment while he kept his wild eyes on the road.

The drive was a short one, stopping at a high building of thirteen floors if the elevator was to be believed. Despite being surrounded by luxury, her eyes were gazing the gun to his hip. She knew he had other weapons, she knew he kept a knife hidden and other guns with him but this one seemed to taunt her, as if she knew she was walking into her own trap.

- Stop. - he hooked his finger under her chin, pushing her face upwards. - I don’t stain my home with blood.

- I’m sorry.

- Stop that too.

- Stop what?

- Apologising. You walk as if you’re apologising to the world for your existence. No one’s gonna take you seriously if you don’t take yourself seriously.

- It’s funny a man is asking me to stop apologising when it’s your own institution who taught me and my gender to apologise for merely existing.

- You have an edge to you. You should use more often.

- I don’t have an edge, I’m definitely not the type of person you think I am.

- You’re definitely the type of person I think you are, petal. - he strutted into his home as the lift door’s open.

It was wide, spacious, modern, in shades of white and grey. Nothing like the stuffy, old rooms she saw in movies or the drug den picture he father painted when speaking about the mob’s place of living. No, this was a modern design, with glass hardware and marbled surfaces which belonged in a cover of a design magazine. It was pristinely clean; after all, a man of his calibre could possibly hire a maid for whenever he needed to get rid of blood but blood stains and his white carpets and blankets were spotless. She wondered if she should trust his words but that thought escaped her mind as she noticed the glass set of chess laying perfectly arranged on the coffee table in the middle of two black couches.

- You play? - he asked, noticing her gaze on the board.

- My dad only had a chess board while I was growing up. I’d like to think it was my first friend.

- None of my associates play. Probably the reason why they’re associates and not the boss. - he sat in one of the couches, pointing at the other one for her to sit in.

- Do you chose a boss by their ability at playing chess?

- Play with me. - he placed both elbows on the table, hands folded under his chin.

James Barnes was a brilliant player, she had to admit and he too knew it himself. The previous boss had taught him the game, sitting him down and making him win a match against him for the chance to eventually win his spot whenever his demise came.

- You see petal, everyone thinks chess is about planning ahead. - he took another one of her white pieces, putting it on his side. - I don’t discount that, but it’s really about intimidation. You can be the best player in the world, at the end of the day if you can’t intimidate someone, you’re not gonna win.

- Do you think I’m intimidating?

- Why do you ask?

- Because ... - she moved her king placing it to the right and down of her white queen, successfully trapping the black king. - Checkmate

I'm begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans ...

taglist: @lookiamtrying @mariamermaid @sebastianstansqueen @unmagically @buckybarnes1982 @mela-noche @lowercasegenius @randomweirdooo @projectcampbell

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan imagine #bucky #bucky/reader #bucky x reader #bucky/y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky/you #bucky x you #mob boss!bucky #mob!bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky imagine

235 notes · View notes

wakaoujisenhime · 3 years

Note

Hello! Can I ask headcanons about being Inarizaki manager?

A/N: Hi there and of course you can! You’re my first Haikyuu anon so I hope this lived up to your expectations! I also gave your request a little backstory so you’ll hopefully enjoy this! (´･ᴗ･ ` )

Tags: Inarizaki x reader ✅ SFW ✅ friendship ✅ fluff ✅

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

bearing the title of Inarizaki’s manager was no easy task, in fact, it was pretty tiring and demanded a lot from the person who owned it

or at least that’s what a lot of the failed applicants claimed

it was no secret that the volleyball team organized a test period that lasted a week for each participant and rumor has it that no one has ever made it past day three

there were a lot of people from your class mostly girls that had tried their luck and were overly-confident that they’d be chosen, but right after being failed they never mentioned the volleyball club again

you on the other hand were genuinely interested in the manager position and after contemplating whether or not to apply, with the amount of support you got from your family, friends and teachers you finally found the courage to write your name on the waiting list

unfortunately for your nerves the applicants before you failed way too quickly and before you knew it, your turn had come

a young friendly-looking man with dark and spikey hair came to your classroom on a Monday morning to tell you all the details concerning the club activity later this afternoon

you listened to him attentively, trying to memorize every single detail he told you, but he must’ve noticed how nervous you were because he suddenly stopped mid-sentence

“I’m sorry, you must surely think I’m super rude for not introducing myself first before I bombarded you with all those information. My name’s Akagi and I’m Inarizaki’s libero, it’s a pleasure to meet you!”

now that you were more relaxed the two of you wrapped your chat up and bid each other goodbye before you returned to your classroom and waited for your first class to start

all those rumors about the team giving off an entirely different aura than anyone else in school was truly no exaggeration

the moment you entered the gym the prevalent tension alone was enough to make you rethink your plans, but before you could do anything a gentle voice spoke out to you

“Are you this week’s manager candidate?”

when you turned around to see who had asked you that question, you saw a tall young man with a darker skin tone smile down at you

you affirmed his question, introducing yourself with the same nervous tone from before, and fortunately, he as well showed you an equal amount of sympathy as Akagi

“I know that it must be quite overwhelming, but you really shouldn’t worry too much about it. You know I’m actually not supposed to give you any tips, but...out of everyone who walked in here you look the most promising so...just be yourself!”

and with that, the two of you walked towards the rest of his teammates so that you could finally introduce yourself to them

truth be told you expected some kind of long interrogation process and nosy questions, but they paid you good to no attention and just introduced themselves briefly

when they went back to practice their moves the captain stayed behind and asked you some general questions such as how much experience you have with volleyball and if you’re busy during the weekends

after everyone went to go and change, you stayed behind to help some of the substitute players out with cleaning the gym floors and dirty balls when Kita joined you with the cleanup

he must’ve noticed your surprised face since after just a short while he spoke up

“Please pay me no mind, I do these things quite often, so this won’t be the last time my actions will surprise you.”

“Do you do these things out of...obligation?”

the other club members were quite surprised by your sudden question, but it made the light-grey haired young man crack a smile as he told you that he was simply used to doing things the right and proper way

his remark seemed of low importance at that time, but his reasoning still stuck with you, and unbeknownst to you it helped you out quite a bit

the second day passed similar to the first one, but with the only exception that you were allowed to help out with the warming-up exercises

while everyone stretched you were finally able to get a better look at the members and you even took some notes on which exercise they did, which position they played in most frequently, and how they behaved towards their teammates

you used the moment they benched you to go over everything you learned today and needless to say there were a few very noticeable personalities that might need more time to befriend than Aran or Akagi

the first two that stood out were the Miya twins

everyone in school knew them for their constant fights amongst each other, but seeing them play and fight up close was an entirely different experience

they randomly screamed at each other when some tactic didn’t work out how they’d imagined it, but all things considered, they made a great and powerful duo

it also didn’t take you long to tell them apart look wise as well as characterwise which facilitated your notes about them

Suna was the third person you’d have to look out for and pay very close attention to

judging from his playstyle he was quite the troublesome opponent

according to some of the players who sat close to you, he was able to manipulate the blockers to jump right where he wanted them to and some of that manipulation skills even stayed with him beyond the game and made out a big part of his personality

but on a more positive note, he also had a more fun side to him

he noticed surprisingly quick if someone wasn’t in a good mood and depending on how long he’d known them he was also able to cheer them up, but this special service heavily relied on his current mood

as for the rest of the members, they seemed friendly enough and as time passed you were confident that they’d accept you in their circle of friends

the rest of the week passed by in a flash and before you knew it the last day of your “manager exam” had arrived

you were nervous as well as quite afraid that you might not have provided them with the service they needed or wished for, but the confident grins on Aran’s and Akagi’s faces managed to reassure your beating heart

everyone waited for Kita to arrive and with each passing minute you felt like you would pass out

and after what felt like an eternity he finally entered the gym with a black duffle bag and headed straight toward you

he handed you the bag without saying anything, it was after you had taken the small bundle into your hands that he spoke up, a small smile spreading across his facial features

“We’ve tested you throughout this entire week and I’m pretty sure not every single task we entrusted you with was pleasant, but you still held out and did everything the right and proper way...thank you and with this, I’d like to welcome you as Inarizaki’s first and official manager.“

it took you a short while to comprehend just what had happened and while you were still looking at the captain like a lost lamb the rest of the members surrounded and congratulated you

the person who brought you back from your daydream was Atsumu, who tightly wrapped his arms around you in a congratulatory hug

you were quite surprised since up until now he was rather well-behaved and didn’t concern himself so much with you except the usual ‘thank yous’, ‘hellos’ and ‘good evenings’ a club member would give his piers

your bewilderment must’ve been quite evident since someone pulled the blond giant away from you with a sigh

and that someone was no other than his twin brother Osamu who whispered a small apology to you and began to lecture him

“What’s it to ya ‘Samu? Ain’t it ‘bout time we dropped that whole act?”

before they could confuse you more than you already were, Ren placed his big hand on your shoulder giving you a somewhat awkward smile that was meant to console you

Hitoshi joined you two and explained how the team always had to show each candidate the cold shoulder in order to make sure that all applicants were aware of the fact that being the VBC’s manager didn’t mean partying around and chatting up a storm with the members

I see was all you could answer to that rather absurd rule they had come up with

your first day as the official manager didn’t vary that much from what you had seen during your test week, but at least now you were properly talking with all of the members

needless to say, you also became this day’s conversation topic number one

wherever you walked people would whisper amongst each other how you were the chosen one despite so many applicants

some of your classmates though had the audacity to doubt that you had won the guys over in a legitimate way and made no effort to hide their baseless accusations by speaking unnaturally loud when they were near you

it did bother you a little, but you decided to ignore their envious attempts to get you mad, sad, or whatever their goal was and dedicate yourself to getting to know your club members better...

the first few weeks you spent on getting to know the members’ skills as well as their personalities better than what you had seen already in the past week

and before you knew it, you had become not only an essential and precious part of the team but also an irreplaceable friend and companion to each of them

you made sure to help the two captains out as much as you could, but you didn’t only do it out of obligation but because you felt bad for leaving these two - especially Kita - alone with all important tasks

oddly enough a powerful team like theirs didn’t have an advisor so most organizational tasks fell on their shoulders

Kita as dutiful and thorough as he was always tackled the tasks the moment they were given to him so neither Aran nor you ever had the chance to volunteer as helpers

one day though you accepted the assignments before him and distributed them amongst the three of you as equally as you could, whereas you took on a slightly bigger portion since you were their manager

you also made sure that Kita didn’t stay behind until all the streetlights turned on and so it became a tradition for you to join him and Aran on their way back home

during those walks, you got extremely close with them and since they often discussed training and club-related matters, you were also able to learn additional things as well as plan the players’ training regimen for the following days

when you weren’t by their side, you either warmed the bench alongside the other substitute players or tried to help Hitoshi tame the two brothers

you were aware of their regular disputes and had already witnessed one yourself, but back then the team had helped resolve it so you weren’t needed

and now that they had finally found a manager, they reverted back to their habitual behavior: ignore and enjoy their dispute, film it or just look for Kita to resolve the issue

you on the other hand took it upon yourself to play the mediator and started by stopping Suna from recording or taking a photo of them

needless to say, he wasn’t very happy when you confiscated his phone, but after you explained to him that you were simply worried that as heated as the siblings were they’d one day drag him into their fight, he proposed you a deal

“Let me take at least five photos and two videos before I help with calming them down.“

your eyes narrowed as you took on a very confident pose which made it pretty obvious that you weren’t going to back down from his attempt to bargain with you

“Two photos and one video.“

“Make it three.”

“Denied. You either settle for two photos and one video or nothing at all...take it or leave it Suna.”

as much as he wanted to protest, your smug grin made him yield in the end

next up were the taller and more intimidating-looking players who’d usually stand by and laugh or sigh

“Are you really ok with the whole school making fun of our club and treating it like some kind of fighting club just because of these two dunces?”

they were quite surprised at your sudden question but weren’t as taken aback as you when they immediately headed for the gym doors to shoo away all onlookers

as for the troublesome siblings you usually stood between them the moment you sensed that they were about to fight

they’d still try to somehow either pinch the other or slap his backside and you at first tolerated it, but after a while, it just got too distracting and annoying so you straight out took hold of each of their hands and wordlessly glared at them

that method started a new trend and now their teammates constantly teased them for being your children and how funny it was to look at their embarrassed faces while you on the other hand showed no reaction whatsoever

you didn’t expect that sort of outcome, but as long as it stopped their fighting it was worth it

as their manager, you were also put in charge of organizing training matches as well as signing them up for tournaments and nationals (with the help of the coaches and captains of course)

your first training match was quite exciting and you were surprised at the number of people that came to see it

the guys were almost always in their top form when they played so you rarely had to worry about their health condition and that took quite the weight from your shoulders

even if someone showed the slightest symptoms of a cold or anything of that sorts, Kita and you would instantly be there and get the player to go home and rest

you knew that some of them hated being sick since it meant that they’d miss out on practice and saw it as some kind of betrayal towards the team

Atsumu was one of these types of people and he was the heaviest case out of all of them

so you made sure to drop by the twins’ house after club activities ended and cheer him up, by changing the cloth on his forehead, cutting some apples for him, or just being there to keep him company

after that Osamu would always insist on bringing you home since the sun had already set

the two of you would always talk about the most random things, but sometimes your conversations got quite serious and personal

in fact, you were the first person he shared his future plans with, saying that he could trust you with keeping it a secret

as for the nationals...

your first one was very overwhelming

the gym was so enormous that it outshined any other gym you had visited with them

it was no secret that the entire ambiance intimidated you and the moment you saw their personal cheering squad you couldn’t help but freeze-up

you had heard that their cheering squad was like no other and that it even rivaled that of many other powerhouse schools, but much like other rumors you had dismissed it

...until now

“Impressive isn’t it?” Ren asked to which you just nodded

but you noticed quickly just how much of an effect their audience had during the match

their steady and powerful rhythms managed to not only motive your team but also discompose your opponents

what surprised you the most was how the older gentlemen in the crowd didn’t hold back on their snide remarks when someone made a mistake or didn’t play seriously

after each match, all of you had come up with small rituals you’d do

depending on the outcome of the game you’d either throw a small party to commemorate their victory or try to cheer them up with a motivational speech followed by a movie night

all in all, you truly came to love volleyball, as well as your team and each of its members, and they did too

they were truly happy to have won such a dependable and caring manager like yourself

the entire team always made sure to celebrate your birthday and go all out on your presents as well as on the party they’d organize for you

all of them always made sure to return your kindness with double the effort and love you had given them

you were sick?

no problem, every day two members would visit you and take turns in taking care of your needs until you were healthy

you were sad?

they’d buy you your favorite snacks, cook you your favorite meal, rent your favorite movie and then knock on your front door, demanding to be let in

...and so on

they had become something like your second family and you didn’t even dare imagine a scenario where you didn’t apply for the position of the manager

the same goes for them, they had given up the hope to find someone who manages their team, but the moment you had entered the gym they almost instantly knew that you’d be the one to take them to victory

and they were right...

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #inarizaki headcanons #haikyuu fluff #━𝙷𝚀 #━𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽'𝚂 𝙴𝙲𝙷𝙾

202 notes · View notes

obeymeshallwedate-latinplayer · 3 years

Text

I belive in Tupper supremacy. (7 brothers + Barbartos. ) GN!MC

During my whole life, my mother would always forgive anything that I lost, it might be a shoe, a toy, $10 pesos, etc. The only thing she couldn´t forgive nor forget was her tuppers. Did I lost one, yes, yes I did. Does the memory of a lost tupper creeps her dremas... yes, yes it does. NOW imagine Mc, behaving like my mother when I lost her tupper. (You know, like tupperware.)

Lucifer.

He was having a mental breakdown in the student council room when suddenly he received a call, Mammon and Levi started a fight, and he needed to stop his younger siblings.

After the punishment, he came home with two tied up demons, and of course Mc received them with the brightest smile of them all.

The two younger brothers gave them the tupper, Mc gave them the sweetest smile and asked them to clean them.

Lucifer forgot the tupper in the student council room. The smile of Mc started to fade, a dark aura covered them, and with a deep voice they said. “So… you left it in the council room… Do you understand the severity of your actions? If you don´t bring back my goddamn tupper, you shall not enter the house.” They shut the door in front of him.

He didn’t find it, apparently some demon took it. Lucifer wasn´t dumb so he decided to buy a brand new tupper. Even if he did that, Mc didn´t let him in. “I know my tuppers you egocentric bastard! Find it or I´ll call Diavolo!”

Mammon

Mammon bet his tupper, he was at the casino, and he didn´t had enough money, so a crazy demon told him. “Hey, that’s a nice tupper. How about you put it on the bet and I´ll put real money.”

Of course, he accepted, and he lost the tupper, after that he came back home, were Mc was having a nice talk with Belphie. He tried to act cool since he knew that his human would get crazy.

“Did you lose my tupper?” They knew him too well “And you think you could easily enter this house?” Mammon tried to explain them that he didn’t had that enough money to pay the bet so he decided to… “¿¡ Tengo cara de que me importa tu pedejada?! No, I don´t Now, go and bring back my tupper or something bad will happen.”

He ran to de casino as fast as he could and beg to the demon that won the tupper, without luck he tried to ask Levi if he could buy a similar model of the tupper. They fail miserably.

He needed to accept the consequences, Mc didn´t talked to him for about a month and a half, it was truly hell.

Leviathan

Levi lost the tupper in a convention, he was so excited about the new Ruri-chan action figure that he totally forgot to close properly his backpack, one thing developed the other so fast that he couldn´t felt that a demon actually stole the tupper.

Coming back home, he told Mc, that the lunch was delicious, that thanks to them he could survived the convention without wasting more money in some food. He was so thankful that he actually gave them an original sticker of Ruri-chan.

When Mc, asked him to show them the tupper, so nothings was missing, Levi took the wideopen backpack, and started to panic.

“I think they stole the tupper.” Mc in a magic way brought the chancla into the conversation. “Wait MC! I´LL BUY YOU ANOTHER ONE! PLEASE DO NOT HIT ME!”

Mc kept prisoner the new figure for almost a month until Levi could give them back their tupper. He tracked down every single demon that attend the convention and he nearly murder the thief.

Satan

Satan, was in the human realm, when a stray cat enter his vision and he nicely gave him some of the tuna sandwich that Mc made him, he must thank them later.

Satan isn´t the type of demon that forgets the tuppers, his actually the type of demon that helps to find out the new catalogues, or even helps Mc to wash the tuppers after they use them. It just never crossed his mind that one day he would lose it.

He actually left the tupper in the park by accident, he really didn´t meant to leave it there, when he came back to the Devildom, Mc was reading in the living room, he made the usual greetings and when he was about to show Mc Mc the tupper, he started to panic.

“Mc, do not get mad please.” Mc just nodded. “I think I lost your tupper.” Mc just smiled. “I see Satan, don´t you worry, I just remember that I “accidentally” trusted you.”

Satan came back to the human realm to buy a 50 new tuppers for the human.

Asmo

Asmo left the tupper in a super fancy restaurant. Beel asked him if he could bring some leftovers or buy something for him, Mc told him to take some tuppers so the restaurant couldn´t give some disposable packings (Let´s be ecofriendly my darlings!)

Asmo got just a little bit tipsy, and he forgot the tuppers, when he came back to the house, he saw Beel eating some potato chips, in front of the door, and he was talking with Mc, about how great was the lobster on that restaurant.

But when the sixth born enter the house, and tried to kiss Mc, Beel stopped him, and asked nicely were was his food. “Ah… I think I left the food at the restaurant.”

Before Beel could cry out, Mc step in. “You did what?” Asmo started to sweat cold, even the alcohol started to fade. “You know that in that restaurant they reuse the tuppers left? That means, that some stranger is now eating from my tupper.”

“Mc darling, I am so sorry!!! Please don´t get mad!” but it was already late, after that night Mc didn´t let Asmo touch them, and he needed to go back to the restaurant so he could have the tuppers of his human.

Beel

Beel ate the tupper, Mc put a banana inside a banana tupper so he could eat something after his practice, also they gave him a bunch of different snacks in different tuppers. But he, somehow manage to bring back all the tuppers.

“Beel… Where is the banana tupper, you know I don´t like to have a squishy banana?” Beelzebub just stayed quiet, he didn´t move not even a centimeter. He used the tactic “If I don´t move they can´t see me, I´m basically invisible!”

Spoiler alert, Mc stare at him, so he said the truth “I am sorry Mc, I ate the tupper.”

“You ate my limited edition of a banana tupper?! I thought we were good friends. I can´t trust you anymore.”

Beel asked Levi to find at least 50 of those banana tuppers so he could gain Mc´s trust again.

Belphie.

Belphie left the tupper in a tree, he was having a nice time, he ate, and then he went to sleep in a branch of a tree, he was the happiest demon alive, until… someone wake him up and he got all grumpy.

He came back to the house, when he heard a lot of noise, it was Mc searching something. He didn´t want to be mean to them, so he tried to run away.

“Hey Belphie, did you know where is my red tupper? The one I use for the mini pretzels.” Belphie just looked at them, he really wanted to smile and run, but oh surprise that wasn´t a good idea. He tried to do the same thing as Beel, don´t move so they can´t see me. And he failed.

Belphie told them that he took it, and he left it in the branch of a tree. “Then go find my tupper, or else…”

He came back to the same branch, of the same tree, but oh surprise a nice family of birds was already inside the tupper. He tried to talk again with Mc, but they just ignore him.

Barbatos

Do you really think Barbatos would leave a tupper? He wouldn´t, he would be worse than Mc, he knows his tuppers, he breaths his tuppers, he is one with his tuppers. But in the case that something happens, he would use his powers and take back his precious tuppers.

Lets learn some Spanish:

¿¡Tengo cara de que me importa tu pendejada?! = Do I have the face of giving a fuck?!

132 notes · View notes

canary3d-obsessed · 4 years

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 11 first part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Goodness)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Okay! This episode is a real slice of healthy family dynamics, not triggering in any way. [Uh if this is your first Restless Rewatch: that is sarcasm, dear readers]

Goodbye to You, Goodbye to Everything We Knew

Nie Huaisang asks why Meng Yao has to leave and Meng Yao says "I killed a guy without permission, so your brother fired me."

Ha ha ha ha no he doesn't. But he does give Nie Huaisang a sweet, sad smile; he seems touched by NHS's distress.

Meng Yao carefully removes Nie Huaisang's hands from his shoulders and bows to him, wordlessly signaling the change in their relationship from intimate friends to formal strangers, while Nie Huaisang looks crushed.

They will return to intimate friendship in the future, but falsely. Meng Yao believes that truly loving a person can include destroying their family and using them as an instrument in your murder plots as long as you don't directly harm them. Nie Huaisang eventually learns to use people just as brutally, but he doesn't lie to himself about what he's doing. This farewell may be the last harmless moment between these friends.

Jiang Cheng is distressed by what's going on, while Wei Wuxian crosses his arms and watches, fully in Sherlock Holmes mode, instead of his more usual concerned-for-my-friend mode. This may signal mistrust of Meng Yao, who refused his initial attempt at friendship, and not in a sexy, slice-your-face-off way. Or it may mean that he's reserving judgement on a complicated family situation. He maintains his uncharacteristic reserve through the entire encounter.

(more behind the cut!)

Nie Huaisang runs in and asks his brother WTF happened. Nie Mingjue says "he killed my subordinate without permission, when he knows perfectly well power must flow from the ruler; it's like he didn't even read that Foucault book I gave him."

Ha ha ha actually he just yells at his brother, as if NHS doesn’t have his own relationship with Meng Yao after being wonder twink powers with him for probably a couple of years now. NHS has to sit and process his loss and confusion in silence.

As a younger sibling who would make friends with my older siblings' girlfriends and then lose those friends if they broke up, for reasons having nothing to do with why I liked their girlfriends, I super feel Nie Huaisang's pain here.

OTOH, older siblings are entitled to have break ups and not explain themselves to anyone besides their lover because that's the nature of intimacy. The moral is, uhh...don't have a family curse that makes you unreasonably angry.

Jiang Cheng steps up to advocate for Meng Yao, because Meng Yao is injured, and because Jiang Cheng is actually a born leader who knows better than to throw away a useful subordinate. For example, even when Wei Wuxian is at his drunkest and most defiant, Jiang Cheng tries to reform him, not kick him out, only drawing the line at having unpopular zombie friends.

Wei Wuxian continues to keep his mouth shut, waiting for Nie Mingjue to calm down, and speaking only about the tactical situation. He clearly knows there's more to this story but he's pretty good at keeping his head down in a family ruckus, and we're about to learn why.

Yunmeng Town

The Yunmeng bros go home to Lotus Pier, where they are greeted in town with bows, smiles, and free stuff.

We've mostly been seeing them in their roles within the cultivation community, where Jiang Cheng is grumpy and anxious, and Wei Wuxian is sassy and iconoclastic. Here among common people, they are both charming, friendly, and polite, like the imaginary good kind of gentry.

They hear the news from a local lotus seller that the small clans are coming to the Jiang Clan for shelter, but that otherwise everything's ok, which doesn't sound like everything is ok at all. He gives Wei Wuxian a giant bag of lotuses for his sister to make soup from.

Home to Lotus Pier

All the disciples practicing in the courtyard at Lotus Pier are excited to see them, and one girl goes running to tell Jiang Yanli. Thanks to the admittedly beautiful design of Lotus Pier, she is running for a long time.

A long, long time. Getting around on all these insane walkways must be a real drag if you're not the flying sort of cultivator.

Discipline and Punish

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian immediately go and kneel while they wait for their official punishment. Jiang Cheng is kinda worried about the punishment and Wei Wuxian is like, I'm good at being punished, just let me do it.

Much later, and for a really long fucking time

He also tries to get Jiang Cheng to stop being mad, even giving him skritches while he says they should be brothers after they die.

Which they will, as it happens, although Jiang Cheng after the Wen torture is only mostly golden-core dead, while WWX dies for real.

When Jiang Fengmian shows up Jiang Cheng starts to explain that they were with Lan Wangji, but Wei Wuxian hushes him; he is still keeping the secret of the Yin Iron. Although he's keeping it in exactly the manner that a teenager keeps their weed stash secret: immediately tell literally every teen friend about it, but keep it extra secret from everybody's parents.

Happy Families Are All Alike

Now we get to meet Yu Ziyuan, who is generally styled Madame Yu but who I'm going to call by her name just as if she was a male character. More on that concept in a minute. She rolls up looking, smelling, feeling like a million yuan, with her two murder bitches in tow.

Her marriage is an unhappy one, and her husband does his best to avoid her and avoid conflict, lying to the kids that she's tired and then sending her away later with the same line about being tired, which is a particularly gendered kind of gaslighting. She is obviously not tired, other than being tired of Jiang Fengmian's shit.

I'm not going to say she's the worst mother ever, because parenthood in a feudal society entails a wide range of skills, many of which she has in abundance. She starts off with a relatively tender greeting to Jiang Cheng, tuning up his always-amazing sartorial style, which is exactly like her own. They are all ready for the mommy & me fashion show.

That said, she dishes out hellacious verbal abuse to everyone in her family. She targets each one in turn, making Wei Wuxian the focus of most of her ire, but without ever directly speaking to him. He is not, in her view, part of her family.

The Stages of Family Dinner

1. Try to fix it and defuse the situation

2. Yeah no

3. Just keep your head down and be glad it’s not your turn in the hot seat

This family meal hammers home how much Wei Wuxian is not, actually, part of the family. Jiang Fengmian adopted him into the clan, and told A-Cheng and A-Yi to treat him as a sibling, but he didn't give him the Jiang name, and he didn't get his wife's approval. He also doesn’t expect him to dress like any other clan member, apparently.

Compare this to how Lan Wangji, actual good parent, fully integrates his own adopted son into his clan and family, starting with giving him the Lan surname.

The hits just keep coming as she goes after Jiang Cheng for being less gifted than Wei Wuxian, Yanli for performing labor for Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Fengmian for possibly begetting Wei Wuxian.

On first watching this scene I took her question "Is this how you raise someone else's son?" to mean that she thought Jiang Fengmian was being too nice to a kid who was actually an outsider, taking resources away from the real kids. But on rewatching, it's pretty clear that she's saying his favoring Wei Wuxian is evidence that Wei Wuxian is NOT someone else's son; that he's Jiang Fengmian's bastard.

Jiang Fengmian doesn't say a thing to this, or to her mentioning WWX’s mother. This shit is why WWX is running around in the world desperate for any crumb of info he can get about his Mom; he hears about her all the goddamn time at home, but only as insults to her character.

A Bitch is Not Wrong

Here's the thing, though; a lot of what Yu Ziyuan says is correct.

Jiang Fengmian should be a lot more concerned about the danger to the children, and should not leave it up to the kids to decide who's going to bear that danger.

Yanli does a lot of food=love, which is ok in the right doses, but causes her to pretty extremely lose face during the whole "soup for Jin Zixuan" debacle. And her doting on Wei Wuxian is...kinda excessive. I mean, yeah, she’s more like a mom than a sister to him, but still. Running out onto an active battlefield to look for him, frex, will be a skosh too much.

I have a dictionary too, mom

Jiang Cheng, as the future clan leader, shouldn't let his attachments affect his decision making, and should let Wei Wuxian, who's the superior cultivator, fend for himself more often. We love Jiang Cheng for those moments where he puts himself in harm's way to protect his loved ones, but it's not a good strategy. He constantly yells at Wei Wuxian for the exact same thing he does all the time himself; he just limits who he does it for.

After she roasts the shit out of everyone for these failings, she leaves, and everyone sits around being miserable and not talking about what just happened.

Not to be gender studies-y on main but: the awful things she says to her children are really not very different from the things that Jiang Cheng says to Jin Ling, although her targeting is more adept. JC also says a lot of mean things to WWX when he’s angry. When a man says cruel or insulting things, it's often presented as real love hidden under a rough exterior. When a woman does it, she's a monster.

If you enjoy this sort of interaction you should definitely have a look at Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf and the plays of Eugene O'Neill.

Road Runner

Oh thank god, moving on

Lan Wangji is headed back to Cloud Recesses, and gets ambushed by the roadside with the most ridiculous trap this side of Wile E. Coyote.

Wen Chao thinks the "rug over a hole" trap is a good idea for someone who can literally fly.

Lan Wangji doesn't faff about with sword riding, he just fucking goes up in the air and stays there until he is good goddamn ready to come down. A hole in the sidewalk is really not going to be a problem for him.

Wen Zhuliu does get in one kick before Lan Wanji yeets backwards away from him, in a moment that's scarier on rewatching, now that I know what Wen Zhuliu is capable of.

Wen Chao talks some smack to Lan Wangji, hilariously complaining about "your patronizing tone" to a man who has literally never spoken a word to him, IIRC, and certainly isn't speaking now. Maybe it's a mistranslation and should be "attitude," or maybe Wen Chao is just that dumb.

Apparently Wei Wuxian made a stack of talismans for Lan Wangji to take on the road with him. This talisman is a twin to the one Lan Wangji brings out way, way later in Yunping, when Wei Wuxian says "you even have kept it until now." Missing scene alert! What else did he make for him?

In Yunping this talisman is used to distract some random harmless street bullies. Here it is used against a seven-man murder squad.

This works.

Assault on Cloud Recesses

Forgettable disciple #1, Su She, comes rushing in to tell Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen that Cloud Recesses is under attack.

I'm pretty sure these dudes already know it, because they are meditating extra hard with a buttload of incense, and Lan Qiren is about to cough up some blood. So I think they're trying to hold the ward, rather than just, like, chilling while their disciples get stabbed.

Cloud Recesses is super on fire, you guys; it's going to totally burn to the ground; look at that conflagration, oh the humanity, etc.

Lan Qiren Rises to the Occasion

Ok, I like to rag on Failmaster Qiren and he is definitely an authoritarian dick a whole lot of the time, but in this scene he is fucking amazing.

He starts off worrying about Lan Wangji, not just out of affection but out of strategic planning, probably in equal parts. All three of these Lans take their clan responsibilities extremely seriously.

Then he calmly assesses the situation while imperturbable Lan Xichen freaks the fuck out.

Lan Xichen is right to be alarmed, because he knows his uncle, he knows one of them is likely to die, and he knows that Lan Qiren will choose to take the hit.

I love, love, love Lan Qiren's physicality here; how centered and assured he is, as he holds his nephew steady and explains what is required of both of them.

Lan Xichen knows Lan Qiren is right. He is utterly fucking devastated, and all he can do to show his love...

...is to obey.

This whole scene just. kills me.

Su She and forgettable disciple #2 are in the room for this whole conversation, and they join Lan Xichen in this deep bow. Note: I will be reminding everyone of this fact in Part 2.

Whew. This episode is a LOT. Part 2 Coming Soon!

Writing Prompt: What other goodies did Wei Wuxian put in Lan Wangji's care package before Lan Wangji hit the road without saying goodbye?

Soundtrack: 1. Michelle Branch, Goodbye to You 2. Ludacris, Stand Up

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #wei wuxian #yu ziyuan #lan qiren #restless rewatch the untamed #the untamed spoilers #lan xichen #canary3d-original #my gifs #the untamed meta

374 notes · View notes

hphm-stuff · 3 years

Note

I love the stuff you’ve done so far!

I’m basically obsessed with Quidditch (to an extent it’s embarrassing 😂), could I request a little fluff with our favourite captain Orion? 👉👈

Reading content about him I didn’t need to write into existence myself always makes my day 😄

Thank you so much! I am also obsessed with Quidditch (embarrassingly so 😂). Orion is definitely the best captain (sorry, Oliver), so he deserves some fluff! I get the difference between reading something you didn’t write and writing it yourself, so I’m always down to write whatever you want, especially because you’ve been so kind on all of my posts! Thank you so much for all your lovely words, they’re really appreciated.

Pairing: Orion Amari x Reader

Warnings: None really, just fluff. Very, very mild injury.

Note: I tried to keep the houses as nondescript as possible, so you can fill in the teams with whichever houses you like. Also, in this piece, the reader is a chaser. ALSO, since I think in very simple terms, Orion's dialogue was impossible for me to write. I tried, though. ALSO I thought that Orion losing his cool would be fun.

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: PROTECTIVE. ORION. You get hurt during the game, and he isn't about to let it slide.

Just a Bruise

For all intents and purposes, it was a regular Quidditch game. Your team was up about a hundred points, and the opposing team was getting desperate. It was not lost on you or your teammates when your opponents started to pull out the dirty tactics. Your team continued to play respectably, not wanting to stoop to your opponents' level.

You and your fellow chasers, Orion and Skye, were tearing down the pitch, praying that the beaters would be competent enough to keep the bludgers away from you. The opposing beaters seemed to be trying out a new strategy. It appeared, to you at least, that they had decided to pick off the chasers, one by one, starting with you.

Bludgers zoomed past you, nearly missing you as you swerved and dodged the balls that were sent your way as you flew. You put your faith in your beaters, knowing that their job was to protect you. Your faith was misguided, you realized, when you felt a sharp pain in your side that sent you hurtling toward the ground.

Luckily for you, Madam Hooch must have been on top of her game. As you were anticipating contact with the ground, you felt your descent stop. Instead of slamming into the pitch below you, you were lowered gently onto it.

Through the slight pain in your side and the adrenaline coursing through you from the fall, you heard a faint call for a timeout. You heard something hit the ground close by, and a panicked voice that you couldn't quire place due to the rush of blood through your ears. Before you could even open your eyes, you felt a hand gently cradling the back of your head.

"Open your eyes. Please," the fog in your mind cleared enough to realize that it was Orion that sounded panicked.

You slid one eye open, squinting slightly, almost as if you were trying to make sure that you really were okay. After making sure that you really hadn't become one with the ground, you let your eyes open. Orion let out a soft breath, his face full of relief. "You gave me quite the scare. Are you feeling alright?"

You nodded gently, offering him a half-smile. Madam Hooch hovered over you for a moment. "Are you alright, (Y/L/N)? Let's get you to the hospital wing."

You shook your head fervently as you looked up at her. "No, no! I'm okay. I just got the wind knocked out of me. Give me a second to breathe, and I'll be back up there."

"You really shouldn't continue to play."

"I have to! I'll be fine, I swear."

She looked at you reluctantly before nodding. "Very well. I suggest that you head there after the game, though."

With that, she stalked off. You could hear her reprimanding the other team, but you didn't quite care enough to figure out exactly what was being said.

You then made a failed attempted to sit up. A shooting pain blossomed in your side and spread toward your stomach as you tried to sit up. With a wince, you moved to lay back down. You looked at Orion, his hand still gently holding the back of your head to keep it separated from the ground.

The look on his face moved from relief to worry as you were obviously hurting. You tried to sit up one more time, clenching your jaw to work through the pain. It subsided after a moment, allowing you to fully sit upright. Someone landed a few feet off to the side of you. You caught it out of the corner of your eye.

"That was a wicked hit, (Y/L/N)," Skye said as she moved to kneel beside you. She gave you a sympathetic smile, "You alright?"

You, once again, nodded. "Yeah, fine. I promise."

"Hey, (Y/L/N)! Watch where you're going next time. Maybe you won't get hit," one of the beaters on the opposing team jeered.

The voice shook Orion out of whatever trance he was in. He had previously been watching you quietly, likely trying to figure out how injured you really are. His face fell at the mockery, and you saw something you'd never seen in his eyes before. Rage.

The usually calm captain was up and storming toward the opposing team. He grabbed the beater that made the comment by the collar and practically pulled him off the ground. "If that bludger left so much as a bruise, I'm coming for your head. Do you understand?!"

Orion, in the entire time you'd known him, had never, ever lost his cool. He had never raised his voice. He sure as hell had never threatened anyone. You shared a look of pure disbelief with Skye.

Madam Hooch could be heard trying to break it up. "Mr. Amari, you stop that! Right now!"

He didn't seem to be listening to her. From your spot on the ground, you couldn't quite see the beater's reaction, but you could hear the worried tone. "That's the game! People get hurt!"

"Tell me, do people get targeted? Is that the game?"

The beater stuttered through his answer. "No. No, they don't."

Orion was half way through another threat when Madam Hooch broke it up. Her firm, booming voice seemed to fill the pitch. "Mr. Amari! Enough!"

Orion begrudgingly let go of the beater, practically shoving him away. He turned and made his way back to you, kneeling in front of you again. Any trace of the anger that he just felt dissipated when his eyes settled on you again. You couldn't hide the look of shock on your face at his outburst. "What's wrong, darling?"

"I had no idea you even knew what anger was."

He let out a light laugh at the comment. "I apologize for losing my temper. Seeing you in pain and the insensitivity he showed you lit a deep-seated fire in me, love. I would be remiss to let that slide."

You let out a soft giggle at his words. Skye stood and extended her hand toward you. "C'mon, (Y/L/N). We have a game to win."

You took her hand and stood. You stumbled slightly from the force Skye used to pull you up, and Orion reached out to steady you. You shot him a grateful smile. His eyes found yours, and the worry was back. "Are you absolutely positive that you can continue to play?"

"I'm fine, Ri. Really. Don't worry about me."

He let out a gentle sigh. With a nod of his head, he moved to place a hand on your cheek. "Fine, but I'm taking you to the hospital wing after the game."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "If you insist."

He grinned and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I do, darling."

You two just looked at each other for a moment before he pulled you into a hug. You noticed that he tried his best to avoid hugging you too tight so as not to irritate your injury. You hugged him tightly and felt a light kiss pressed to your temple. He spoke in a gentle tone. "I want you to be careful up there."

"Ri, if I'm careful, we'll lose the game."

"I'd rather lose the game than lose you, love. Please, promise me you will take it easy."

You relented, knowing that he'd bench you if you protested. "Fine. I will."

Orion called off the time out, and both your team and the opposition took to the sky again. Even though you promised Orion you'd take it easy, you worked harder than you had before the time out. There was no way you'd let the other team win after their stunt.

You were already so many points ahead that they really had no hope of taking the victory. This was cemented when your seeker caught the snitch.

You followed the rest of your team as they descended onto the pitch. Before you could join the celebration, a hand gently circled your wrist and was pulling you toward the direction of the castle. You weren't shocked to realize it was Orion. "Ri, what are you doing?"

"I'm taking you to the hospital wing. Like I insisted."

You giggled gently. "But we have celebrating to do!"

"I know how much you love the festivities after the games, but I will only be able to celebrate when you are taken care of. Once we are sure that you are free from injury, we will join our teammates in celebration."

You grinned at him, and he looked at you just in time to catch it. He returned the smile. "You worry about me more than I worry about me, Ri."

He let out a light chuckle. "Trust me, I already know that."

Orion continued to walk with you to the hospital wing, letting Madam Pomfrey take you from him to give you a quick check. She had you sit on a bed as she inspected the place you got hit. "Just a nasty bruise. No broken ribs, no collapsed lungs. No ruptured organs. You should be alright in a few days."

You thanked her. Orion was waiting for you just outside the hospital wing. "So?"

You grinned at him. "Just a bruise, Ri. Can we go party now?"

He grinned and moved to take your hands, using his grip on them to pull you in closer to him. He leaned in, placing a soft, loving kiss on your forehead. "Of course we can, love."

The two of you started off back toward your common room. You knew that the party would already be started. As you walked, he turned to glance at you. "Do you know how proud of you I am?"

"What?" you asked with a grin. A light blush found its way onto your cheeks.

"You played amazingly today, before and after the incident. You always play amazingly. You are an asset to our team."

You grinned, speaking playfully. "Just to the team?"

He laughed. "To me, too. You truly are a gift, and I am thankful for you every single day."

"You're pretty cool yourself."

You two shared a laugh over that. Before heading into the common room. He stopped you just before you walked into the room. With a light grin, he reached up to carefully brush some stray hair from your face, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. After pulling away, both of you were grinning. He spoke in a light tone. "I truly am glad that you're not too badly hurt. I don't know what I would do if you were."

You grinned, moving to gently cup his cheeks. "I'm fine, I promise. Let's go in and have some fun, okay?"

He nodded at you. "Let's, darling."

The two of you then walked into the common room, joining your housemates for the party.

#orion amari #orion amari x reader #hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery #one shot #skye parkin #orion amari x mc #fluff #penny haywood #barnaby lee #charlie weasley #bill weasley #rowan khana #ben copper #talbott winger #tulip karasu

131 notes · View notes

lunarthing951 · 3 years

Text

To Appease All The People Who Want 'What If — Was In The Eggpire' AUs, I Present You This Tumblr Post.

{ Dream }

• This Senario Would Take Place If The Egg Somehow Broke Him Out Of Pandora's Vault.

• In My Opinion, Dream Wouldn't Change At All, In Fact, He Wouldn't Do Anything. The Egg Would Simply Use His Knowledge Of People And Manipulation Tactics To It's Advantage.

• So With Dream, I Can't Exactly Say Anything Other Than He'd Basically Just Be Someone The Egg Keeps Gaurd Of (Like Skeppy) For It's Own Reasons.

{ TechnoBlade }

• And Here, We Probably Have The Canonically Most Generally Powerful Person On The Server. 'The Blade'.

• Honestly, I Don't Know How The Egg Could Accomplish This, But If It Could Somehow Get Rid Of The Voices... Techno Probably Wouldn't Stand A Chance Now That He Doesn't Have The Chat To Muffle It.

• How It Keeps Him Under Control? It's... Complicated. It Might Seem Easy, Just Threaten Him With Bringing The Voices Back... But That Won't Work. That Tactic Would Just Make Him Realize How Much Power He Had Over The Voices And The Egg Currently As A Result.

• So... What If It Didn't Threaten Him At All? But Rather, Gave Him The Praise The Voices Wouldn't. Yes, It Would Still Ask For Blood... But It Would Do It Nicely. Yes, Techno Would Probably Give The Egg What It Wants... But Instead Of Demanding More Like The Voices Did, The Egg Would Tell Him He Did A Good Job Doing This For It And Thanking Him For It.

• And Yes, I Admit The Idea Is A Bit Far-Fetched... But If You Look At Everything, It Could Potentially Work!

{ TommyInnIt }

• Much Like Techno, Tommy Is Someone Who Struggles To Get A Trusted Relationship Of Any Kind. And If He Does, He'll Still Be Very Suspicious. That Combined With The Fact That Almost Everyone Is Treating Him As If Their In A Higher Position Than He Is... Yeah...

• That's Why He Acts The Way He Does. He Wants Attention, He Wants To Be Noticed In A Good Way, He Wants To Make Friendships He Can Rely On... But Nobody Will Let Him, Because He's 'Just A Troublesome Child'.

• Tommy Would Probably Get The Same Treatment Techno Did, Just With A Lot More Compliments And Praise Just Sprinkled In There To Form A Sort-Of Bond With Him.

• This Would Be Tommy's Downfall, Because Dispite His Negative Relationships With The Eggpire In The Past... The Egg Is Being Nice. It Isn't Calling Him A Child, It Isn't Placing Itself Any Higher Than He Is, It's Trying To Be His Friend.

{ Ph1LzA }

• And Here We Have The Famous Ph1LzA MineCraft, Who... Never Actually Had A Negative Interaction With The Egg Or The Eggpire To My Knowledge.

• Also, According To A YT Video I Found Talking About His Lore, Apparently He Once Called The Vines 'Warm And Cozy' Or Something Like That... Implying He Actually Likes The Blood Vines.

• The Egg And The Eggpire Could Definitely Use This To Their Advantage If They Tried To Recruit Phil At Some Point, Just Taking Advantage Of A Situation Where Phil Is Tired One Day And Getting Him To Rest On A Blood Vine.

• As For How He'd Change... I- I Don't Think He Would. He'd Just Be Using His Dadza Powers For The Egg To Take Advantage Of. Although... I Have A Feeling He'd Be A Lot More Quiet While In Conversation, No Real Reason For It, Just Him Ending Up As A Member That Let's Other's Do The Talking.

{ Tubbo_ }

• This Is A Bit Of A Strange One, As I Don't Really Have An Idea Of How The Egg Could Get Him On It's Side. However, I'll Still Try My Best For The Sake Of This Tumblr Post.

• Tubbo Is A Character Who Can Easily Be Described As 'Envious' If You Get Your Information Right. No For Anyone In Particular, But Rather To The Safety He Never Had. Snowchester? The Nukes? Platonically Marrying Ranboo For Tax Benifits / Wealth? All Of It Was For A Feeling Of Safety. Safety He Envies For, Because He Never Truely Got It.

• This Is Something The Egg Could Take Advantage Of, Promising Him A Feeling Of Safety For Him All All Of Those He Cares About, Examples Being Tommy, Ranboo, And Michael Although There Is Probably More.

• Changes Wise, He'd Probably Lose At Least A Fifth Of His Usual Chaos Gremlin Energy He Has, Because Most Of It He Had Before Was Because He Wanted To Be Intimidating Or Funny Depending On The Person... But Now, Now He Doesn't Have To Do That Anymore.

{ Quackity }

• Honestly... I Have No Ideas For Quackity. He Seems To Be The One Most Opposed To The Egg, Probably Even More Than Sam & Puffy. If You Have Any Ideas, Be Sure To Tell Me And I'll Ads It If I Can Agree With It Enough.

• So, For Now, This Will Be Left Blank To Be Edited Later.

{ Eret } / { FoolishG }

• Eret / Foolish Is Another Strange Case I Don't Really Have Any Ideas For, But I Can Say One Thing... Whoever Doesn't Get Controlled Gets A Different Situation For Both Of Them.

• If Eret Is The One To Be Controlled, Foolish Will Be Inclined To Do Everything In His Power To Free His Friend From The Grasp The Egg Has On Him. Chances Are, He Will Fail... But Even If He Does Succeed, He'll Be Putting A Target On His Back.

• If It's Foolish Who Is Controlled, Eret Might Not Be Able To Do Anything But Watch/Listen. Watch As His Old Friend Who He Doesn't Even Remember Gets Taken Advantage Of And Listen As That Same Forgotten Friend Tries To Reunite Them But In A Seriously Messed Up Way.

{ Niki Nihachu } / { Jack Manifold }

• Niki & Jack Is Another Duo I Have To Put Together In This List, Because It's Another Situation Just Like The One Above.

• If Niki Gets Controlled, Jack Will Have To Do Everything In His Power To Get Her Back Whilw Niki Does Everything In Her Power To Drag Jack With Her. The Same Happens If Jack Is The One Controlled And Niki Is Left Normal.

• Unlike Eret & Foolish Though, I Do Have An Idea As To How They'd Be Pulled In... Their's And The Egg's Shared Hatred Of Tommy. I Don't Believe I Have To Explain More.

{ Ranboo }

• Ranboo Is Another Case I Have No Ideas For. He Has Had Barely Any Contact To The Egg That We Really Know And Even Those Interactions Were The Egg Being Mean. It Can't Just Apologize For That And Expect Him To Suddenly Be Under It's Control. That's Not How Ranboo Works.

• So Here, Another Blank Space.

{ Fundy }

• Fundy Is A Character Very Much Like Tommy, But Very Different All The Same. While Tommy Wants Attention, Fundy Wants Affection. Both In The Parental Way As Shown With Wilbur, Eret, & Philza As Well As The Romantic Way As Shown With Dream. He Wants A Stable Relationship, But Nobody Is Willing To Give Him It... Because He's 'Just A Fluffy Troublemaker'.

• So, In This Senario, The Egg Might Not Have To Do Anything. Rather Than Trying To Parent Fundy Itself, It Could Have The Eggpire Care For Fundy Like Nobody Else Would. And Even While Fundy Hates The Vines With A Passion, This Mentality Would Probably Crumble To The Ground In A Boulder Of Tears With The Care The Eggpire Would Show.

• The Egg Would Give Fundy The Family He Never Had, And In Return, All Fundy Had To Do Was Show His Happy Little Smile To The World.

Welp, That's All The Ideas I Have For Now. I Hope You Enjoyed Reading This!

^v^

#dsmp #dream smp #eggpire #dream #technoblade #tommyinnit #philza #tubbo #quackity #eret #foolish #niki nihachu #jack manifold #ranboo #fundy

32 notes · View notes

beewolfwrites · 3 years

Text

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Eighteen: Do Not Go Gentle

Hello again! Welcome to Chapter 18 of this Chishiya x OC/Reader fic. So many of you loved the ending of the last chapter, I hope you like this one too.

There are certainly some... revelations coming to light.

You can find the full fanfic and this chapter here on AO3 too. Enjoy <3

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

The rooftop was usually quiet at this time, but not today. The ruckus below could be heard for miles, cheers and laughter stretching across Tokyo like sunlight. But even the sunlight left shadows in crevices and alleys.

Legs dangling off the roof, I watched on as Hatter, flanked by Aguni and several militants, got into a car. He waved and blew kisses at the swathes of Beach residents. It was one big show, nothing but superficiality as the Beach’s king headed off into battle. The sun bounced off his ring as he kissed a woman’s hand, the blinding light only serving to darken his sunglasses.

‘Not joining the party?’

I didn’t bother turning at the familiar voice. There was a rustle of fabric as he sat down beside me, leaving enough space between us that it wasn’t uncomfortable.

‘I’m not a party person.’

As the car pulled away from the hotel, my eyes drifted to Niragi who was standing by the hotel door. He looked visibly irritated, most likely because of the fire that had spontaneously started in his room the night before. Apparently, he’d gone on a rampage, throwing accusations and pinpointing certain names. In an attempt to calm him down, An had used her forensic background to sweep the room, only to find no fingerprints, hairs, or traces. Niragi had been seething ever since.

‘I’m guessing you heard about what happened,’ I tried to hide a smile. ‘Somebody tampered with the plugs of his bedside lamps while he was in the game last night. Whoever it was cut through both the earth wires and messed with the live wires.’

Like many of the other lamps in the hotel, they had metal casings. And because the bedside tables were made of wood, it didn’t take much for the metal to overheat.

Chishiya let out a content sigh. ‘There were no fingerprints. It could have been faulty wiring.’

‘That’s true,’ I said, thinking back to the box of disposable latex gloves in Chishiya’s room. ‘Though it’s one hell of a coincidence that it happened to both the bedside lamps.’

‘But not impossible.’

‘No,’ I said softly. ‘It’s not impossible.’

He reached into his pocket and held out the taser. ‘It wasn’t too bad. Just a case of rewiring it.’

Holding it in my lap, I felt instantly safer. ‘Thank you.’

We fell into companionable silence, me watching as Hatter drove off into the desolate Tokyo streets, and Chishiya mulling over whatever crazy calculations were running through his mind. Eventually, when the car disappeared into the dust, the Beach residents retreated back to the patio, continuing as usual as they waited for the return of their king.

‘Hatter’s going to die in this game, isn’t he?’

‘Of course,’ Chishiya said. ‘That’s why I’ve invited Arisu up here with us.’

‘You’re going to include them in the plan?’

A faint smile ghosted his features. ‘Did you think you were special because I included you?’

‘Of course not. That’s ridiculous.’ It was ridiculous, and yet something unpleasant twinged in my chest at the thought that it wasn’t just me, him and Kuina. It begged the question, if he wanted help from Arisu and Usagi, why did he bother with me? ‘Chishiya, I know I’ve asked you this before, but why did you bring me here?’

‘If you’ve asked me before then you’ll already know the answer.’

The answer was that I was useful to the Beach, but something told me it wasn’t the true answer. There was something I was missing here, if only I could figure out what it was.

‘No,’ I said. ‘Why did you really bring me here?’

He didn’t reply, but I could see him considering the question, thinking of all the different avenues he could take to answer it. Lucky for him, he never had to, as the rooftop door swung open and Kuina stepped out, followed by Arisu. He looked pained, as though he’d seen a ghost, but when he saw me, his expression filled with recognition.

‘I remember you from the Tag game,’ he said.

I gave him a smile. ‘も覚えています.’ I remember you too.

He relaxed slightly at seeing a familiar face, but when he turned back to Chishiya, there was still some mistrust there. ‘You and Kuina wanted me to come up here. What’s going on?’

Chishiya and I got to our feet, and I was reminded a little of the time when I had been invited up here too. Only now, my bruises had healed, and Chishiya and I were on good terms again.

‘I’d like to ask you one thing,’ Chishiya said, his tone calm and calculating as always. ‘How do you plan to live in a world that’s so full of despair?’

Arisu seemed visibly surprised by the question. But I wasn’t. I knew Chishiya enough to see that this was a test. What the answer was didn’t really matter. It was all just a way for him to gauge Arisu’s personality and analyse which parts of his nature could come in use. Seeing this test being used on someone else, I wondered how often Chishiya had deployed the same tactics on me.

‘I’ve come this far,’ Arisu said, ‘and I just want to know who’s behind all of this, who I should get revenge on. And if there’s only one person who can leave, I want to make sure it’s Usagi.’

Usagi must be the name of the climber girl.

Chishiya smiled. ‘It’s a good answer.’

‘でも、悪い溶液だ,’ I said. But it’s not a good solution.

Kuina strolled along the edge of the rooftop. ‘In order to leave, you and Usagi would have to win game after game and become number one. It’s impossible.’

Arisu’s face fell, although he must’ve known this deep down already. It was impossible to win every game, and despite how much we talked about surviving, Kuina, Chishiya and I would probably die before then. The odds were against us.

‘It has nothing to do with you guys anyway,’ Arisu said, defensively.

‘We think you have potential,’ Chishiya replied, looking out in the direction where Hatter’s car had disappeared. ‘That’s why we came to find you earlier.’

‘Potential….’ Arisu’s confusion was illustrated all over his face.

‘What if I said there’s a way to change the status quo all at once?’ Chishiya casually suggested, and Arisu’s eyes widened.

I drifted in and out of understanding as Chishiya explained how the tensions between the militant sect and the idealist sect were growing stronger, and that Hatter would probably not return home from his game today. Arisu’s nervous reaction was too open, too trusting.

He wears his heart on his sleeve. That’s why Chishiya picked him.

‘What are you planning?’ He glanced between the three of us.

Chishiya’s smile was terrifying. ‘I plan to steal all the playing cards,’ he said. ‘We’re leaving the Beach.’

And just like that, Arisu was hooked. Trapped in the net of manipulation so carefully laid out for him.

Chishiya was a trickster. Now that I could his tricks laid bare in the sunlight, it was more obvious than ever before. In my head, I ran through all the conversations I’d had with him, but there was nothing that stood out as obvious lies or half-truths.

And he’s always helped me. He screwed with Niragi’s lamps and started that fire. He didn’t have to do that… it can’t have been for nothing.

As if sensing the conflict within me, Chishiya’s eyes locked onto mine from across the roof. They were guarded and distant, with just a hint of something warmer, and a little voice in my head told me it wasn’t real, it couldn’t have been real. Yet it didn’t stop my heart from shuddering, or my face from glowing under the sunlight.

And all at once, I realised I was just as stuck as Arisu.

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

Later that day, Hatter failed to return from his game.

It was information kept within the executives out of fear that the Beach’s residents would panic. Naturally, Chishiya had told Kuina, Arisu, Usagi and I, not that it was a surprise to any of us. Apparently, gunshots had been heard in the area, but the only witnesses around were militants, and each and every one of them swore that Hatter died in his game.

There was no time to waste, and the situation had formed a perfect opportunity. Chishiya had invited us to his room to go over the the plan, but now that it was actually happening, it felt a lot more nerve-wracking.

Arisu and Usagi were sitting in their chairs, sharing uneasy glances as they wondered whether to go ahead with this. From my seat on the couch, I listened carefully while Chishiya brushed through the details in Japanese. He was speaking slower than usual, probably so I could understand as much as possible, but there were still some things I would have to ask about later.

He began passing around walkie-talkies, sliding them across the coffee table towards Arisu and Usagi. As he placed the device in my palm, his fingers brushed mine.

‘The playing cards,’ he said. ‘they’re kept in a safe hidden somewhere in the royal suite. Nobody knows the passcode except the current number-one. But because there’s always chance that the number-one could die in a game, the code is also kept in a black envelope. The black envelope is only opened when there’s a new number-one.’ He sighed. ‘There’ll be a meeting tomorrow, and Aguni will open it in front of all the executives.’

The system itself made sense, but how could Chishiya find out the passcode without being able to see inside an opaque black envelope?

He’s cunning, but cunning doesn’t give you x-ray vision.

‘It’s only read by number-one, right?’ I asked, wondering if I’d missed something along the way in my attempt at translating.

‘That’s right. But as for the safe itself, Arisu will be the one to infiltrate the royal suite.’

Arisu frowned. ‘But what about the passcode?’

‘I already have an idea about that,’ Chishiya said dismissively. ‘I’ll tell you when you’re in front of the safe.’

‘You really are cautious,’ Arisu replied with a grin. He nodded. ‘Got it!’

Chishiya looked at Kuina and Usagi. When he turned to me, I dropped my eyes to the coffee table, feeling embarrassed at how I was acting. It was as if I were a schoolgirl again. ‘You three will be on the lookout,’ he said.

Usagi flinched, eyeing the walkie talkie in her palm. ‘It’s too dangerous,’ she whispered. ‘If we’re found out, we’ll be killed.’

Her eyes were hazy with worry, and it was obvious she cared deeply about Arisu. They must’ve stuck together after the Tag game, becoming not just allies, but something more. It was clear as day from the way they looked at each other.

‘It’s fine, Usagi,’ Arisu tried to console her. ‘With Hatter dead, there’s no unity at the Beach. This is the only way.’

I wanted to believe him, I truly did. But as I bore witness to Chishiya’s growing influence on Arisu, the more doubts I had. Looking at him now, beyond his calm surface, there was something calculating there. An empty darkness. And I was right in the middle of it.

Just what are you really planning?

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

The next day, Chishiya disappeared to attend the opening of the black envelope. It meant the rest of us had a few hours to kill before the executives and militants would hold a speech in the lobby to declare Aguni as the Beach’s new king.

I was sitting alone in my room, the walkie talkie on the desk beside me as I ran through the plan over and over. There was so much that could go wrong.

So far, I had intentionally stayed hidden. With Hatter had gone, there was nothing stopping Niragi from killing me and having done with it, and if I wanted to make it out of this place, it was best to keep my head down and remain out of sight. Luckily, my visa still had four days left, so I didn’t have to worry about running into Niragi at a game or in the lobby again.

If everything goes well, I’ll be seeing the last of him.

There was a knock at the door and Kuina called out from the other side.

‘Door’s open!’

Kuina entered, looking cheery and troubled all at once. ‘When is it not?’ she said, taking a seat on my bed as she played with her hair.

I folded my arms against the back of the chair as I took in her dismal energy. ‘You look drained. Something happen?’

She stared at the carpet. ‘Nope, but something will. I can sense it.’

She must be feeling it too.

‘Do you think the plan’s going to fail?’ I asked.

She laughed at first, then frowned. ‘I don’t know. It might, it might not. I just hate waiting like this. It feels a bit like waiting to die.’

The sun was beginning to set, and our time at the Beach was drawing to a close. Either we’d make it out and escape tonight, or we’d be deemed traitors and made an example of. It all depended on whether Chishiya could figure out the passcode, and whether Arisu could locate the safe in the first place. I bit my lip at the thought, tasting metal on my tongue.

I hate putting my life in someone else’s hands.

‘Kuina,’ I said, feeling a little awkward. ‘Do you trust Chishiya?’

She seemed to struggle with the question as she took her time to answer. ‘Not exactly. I trust him to a degree, and we’ve kind of become friends, you know. But if it really came down to it, he would put himself over me, if it means he’s able to survive. He might feel bad about it afterwards – or not, who knows? But that’s what he’d do.’ She looked at me, perplexed. ‘Why?’

My mind skipped through every time I had caught myself caring about him… the comfort I felt around him during the Hunting Season game… the fear of seeing him injured and the guilt of knowing he was in pain… the hurt every time he upset me… and the warmth of safety, knowing he was looking out for me in his own way. Even if he was downright cruel, he always gave me a reason to keep going.

‘I don’t either.’ I swallowed, trying to force myself to admit the truth. ‘But at the same time, I think I feel something… for him, I mean.’

Kuina took the quit-smoking aide out of her mouth. ‘I know.’

My head shot up.

What?

‘You know?’ I asked, surprised, confused and overwhelmed all at once. ‘How did you know before I did?’

She shrugged. ‘Because any idiot could see it, even Niragi. You’ve got some serious chemistry going on there.’ With a shake of her head, she said. ‘It’s a shame he’s such an asshole.’

I pushed my head in my hands, but it wasn’t enough to hide my embarrassment. I felt so exposed, like my mind and heart were put on display. If it was that obvious, it meant everyone would have been able to see it. Everyone.

‘Chishiya already knows, doesn’t he?’ It wasn’t even a question at this point.

She tilted her head from side to side, trying to make me feel better by pretending there might have been some room for error. ‘He probably does.’

‘There’s no ‘probably’,’ I groaned. ‘He definitely knows. Nothing gets past him.’

‘Can’t say I agree with your taste in men,’ she said, quietly, ‘but I guess it’s too late to interfere.’ Even though her tone was lighthearted, there was an edge there. ‘What are you going to do about it?’

How do I even begin to answer that question?

I slumped down onto the back of the chair, tired and exasperated with the whole thing. It had always been my dream up until now, to fall in love, live freely and keep looking to the future. But not like this. It was the wrong place, the wrong time, and as much as I hated to admit it, the wrong kind of person.

‘Who knows?’ I groaned. ‘This isn’t exactly the best place to fall in love with someone. This was what I always wanted, but now that it’s happening, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.’

I looked to Kuina for advice, hoping she’d anchor me down and tell me it was going to be fine. Instead, she was at a loss, unsure of what to suggest.

But then the walkie talkie on the desk hummed to life, and it no longer mattered.

‘They’re about to make the speech.’ Chishiya’s static voice buzzed through. ‘It’s time.’

#alice in borderland #aib #imawa no kuni no arisu #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland

79 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

93. I hire your matchmaking services but all the people you set me up with are horrible and I’m demanding a refund and you’re asking me for one more chance??? what are you going to do? be my date?

Indruck, nsfw, please!

Here you go! I was inspired by @kriskukko's incredible art for the orc designs in this, and I highly recommend checking them out!

“Indrid? Some from Kepler House is here to speak with you.” Ned pokes his head into Indrid’s rooms.

“Drat” Indrid hisses, dressing gown whipping about him as he scrambles to put the apartment in order while also dragging his notes on the man in question to the forefront, “I didn’t forsee anyone coming by today, goodness, he had his first engagement with Lady Austens daughter last night, what on earth could they need to see me for?” He tosses his spare pens aside, landing them in his second set of house slippers.

“Well, dear boy, given the luck you’ve had with them lately-”

“It’s not luck, it’s simply very unlikely futures. Please just, just stall whoever it is a moment, Leo is usually patient and-”

“I’m afraid I cannot do that my friend.”

“Why not? I watched you once talk an entire flock of constables away from your door. Praytell, why can Ned “Silver Tongue” Chicane not get rid of a single attendant?”

“Because the attendant ain’t here this time.”

Indrid slams the drawer of his desk, looking up as an orc in a deep brown suit steps into the room, tossing his hat onto the table. He’s shorter than Indrid and Ned (stout and strong, according to the notes Indrid received), wavy black hair streaked with grey at the front. One eye is blue, the other brown, and both regard the harried matchmaker with casual annoyance.

“Mr. Newton, I, ah, I was not expecting you to visit me.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect to be on a date where she found me so damn dull she hailed a cab as soon as dinner was done. I was already in town on some business for Minerva, so I decided to come tell you I ain’t in need of your services anymore.”

“I beg your pardon? Your benefactor employed me to find you a suitable match and I intend to do just that. I know there have been missteps, but such things are to be expected when searching for one’s lifelong partner.”

“Uh huh. And the fact I’m Lady Minerva’s chosen heir, which means there are a bunch of folks waitin to mimic my style and choices, has got nothin to do with it.”

“I, ah, I can’t say that I’m ignorant of the potential repercussions of being the one assigned to locate a spouse for you.”

“Which is the long way of sayin you know damn well that if I decide to stop askin you for help, no one with money is ever gonna come to you again.”

There’s a determined set to his rounded jaw, and a glimpse at the future suggests Indrid will have better luck with a different tactic

“....were they really so awful?”

“Yes. They were rude, or thought I was rude, or thought I was dull, or we just had fuck-all in common.”

“Have you considered you might just be a tad more demanding than average?”

“It ain’t demandin to want the person I spend the rest of my life with to actually like me.” He sighs, “I’m sorry, Mr. Cold, but unless you got a real winner up your sleeve, I’m done.”

All responses, all timelines show Duck ending his time as Indrid’s client and walking out the door.

“You could try me!”

“Really?” Duck looks deeply unconvinced.

“I will admit it’s unorthodox, but I, I foresee us having a perfectly nice time together. It will let me prove that I am capable of choosing companions for you.”

The shorter orc looks him up and down more deliberately and Indrid fights not to draw his dressing gown tighter. He will not be intimidated by some newcomer from across the sea.

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. I got to go to this concert tomorrow; someone from Kepler house is expected to show and Minerva is busy. You’re comin with me.” He holds Indrid’s gaze, daring him to renege on his offer.

Indrid summons his best, professional grin, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

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

Indrid smooths his waistcoat and jacket as he steps from the cab, tucks a strand of his silver hair behind his ear. It’s his only concession to the nerves skittering up and down his spine.

Gatherings such as these are nothing new to him; he goes to them to gather new information and new clients, to remind the well-to-do families of London and beyond that he is the matchmaker extraordinaire. But there is always the moment between when they see him and when they recognize him, when every face in the room wonders why someone like him dares to enter their space.

Somewhere in Indrid’s ancestry is a love story between an orc and a goblin. His silver hair, very angular features, and complete lack of tusks or fangs is the proof. The red eyes don’t help--they unsettle everyone who sees them--but his mother insists they’re evidence of other orcs gifted with rare magic on her side of the family. He wears red spectacles over them just to be safe; he rather likes how the color stands out against his skin, and his glasses let him avoid prying questions.

Duck is waiting for him under the awning outside the music hall; he’s in a grey day suit this time, looking just as understatedly handsome as he did yesterday morning. Indrid must admit his desire to save his reputation is not the only reason he agreed to this; he cannot understand why Duck is having such trouble meeting his match. He’s good looking, moneyed, American--an exotic background in the eyes of the average, sheltered upper-class orc--but still has family history here in England. All Indrid’s matches showed a high probability of success. The point of failure must lie with the orc himself.

“Afternoon, Mr. Cold.” Duck smiles with everything but his eyes.

“Indrid is fine, given the reason for our meeting.”

Duck nods. Indrid wishes the ground would swallow one of them up. When the pavement fails to oblige, he offers his arm. The shorter orc takes it, both of them doffing their hats as they step inside.

“I, uh, like the earring.” Duck indicates the moth cuff on Indrid’s left ear, a stark contrast to the single gold hoop in his own.

“Thank you. A friend gave it to me. I, ah, I rather enjoy working moths into my wardrobe; I find them fascinating.”

“Y’know, back home we got moths that look like hummingbirds.”

“Really?” Indrid’s ear twitches, “how big?”

Duck holds up his hands to indicate the size. Indrid is about to demand details when they’re waylaid by their hostess and pulled into a cluster of families. Indrid breathes deep, feeling crowded in, and notices Duck routinely being cut off in conversation or given disapproving looks behind his back. Yes, Indrid supposes his manners are a bit rough, but there’s no harm in that. Too, everyone seems far more interested in the goings on at Kepler House and with Lady Minerva than with Duck himself. By the time they’re seated, their arms feel locked together from shared tension.

The violinists are quite good; Indrid enjoys strings, his recordings of them being his favorite music to listen to while drawing. But his mind is so consumed by futures and by thoughts about the orc beside him that he struggles to focus on the music. Duck is having a similar issue, though he hides it well; were they not side by side, Indrid would miss the way he fidgets with the knee of his trousers.

“Are you alright?” He whispers under the applause.

“N-ye-uh. Fuck. I, the musics real nice but I gotta say I’m gettin kinda bored. But I got no fuckin clue if leavin will piss everyone here off.”

“Intermission is soon. When it comes, keep quiet and follow my lead.”

When the guests rise to stretch their legs and fetch refreshments, Indrid guides Duck to their hostess.

“I’m so very sorry, but I’m afraid my stomach is rather angry with me and it’s best if I go home. Duck has agreed to accompany me so I do not pass out in the street. I’m sure you understand.”

She nods, and in a matter of moments they’re out on the street, each breathing deeply.

“Thanks for that.”

“My pleasure.”

“Guess I oughta just head back to the hotel.” Duck sighs.

“You could. But, ah, we’re not far from Kew Gardens and the weather isn’t miserably cold for once. If you’d like-”

“Hell yeah. Wait, fuck, sorry, tryin to swear less in public.”

“I don’t really mind.” Indrid starts them down the street.

“Lots of them do” Duck tips his head back towards the concert hall, “I mean, at least that rule is easier to figure out. It’s not that there aren’t weird rules and class stuff back home, but I grew up learnin them. Here I always feel like I’m one move away from makin an ass of myself. No one’ll say anything because of Minerva, but I know if it weren’t for her, none of ‘em would give me the time of day. It makes every interaction so goddamn stressful.”

Indrid twinges with sympathy, “When I first started in these circles, I wrote myself notecards and had Ned test me on them.”

Duck giggles, so absurd and loud it draws stares from passersby, “why? You seem to know your stuff.”

“I didn’t come from money, and I don’t always read social situations the way others expect. It was learn or live as a penniless artist for all my days.” As the gardens come into view he adds, “I know the basics of your life in America but if you weren’t here, what would you be doing there?”

“Workin in the Yosemite valley. I was a ranger there for a few years before Minerva called me here.”

“What was that like?”

Duck tells him as they wander the first stretches of the gardens. He’s midway through a tangent about bears when he stops.

“Holy fuck, you’re really still listenin.”

“Of course I am, this is fascinating.”

His companion smiles, “Glad you think so. But it ain’t polite for me to dominate the conversation like this. Now you gotta tell me what you do when you’re not gettin fancy folks together.”

“...You promise you will finish the story about the bear and the tent later.”

“You know it.”

Indrid knows that time passes more quickly with good company, but he’s still startled when the sun sets. The Savoy, where Duck is staying, is closer than his home, so their cab stops there first.

Duck pauses halfway out the door, “Meet me here for dinner tomorrow?”

Indrid grins, “I’d like nothing more.”

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

“I didn’t know the line even went this far.” Indrid watches the moors race by them out the window of the train.

“You and me both.” Duck rotates his map, glances at the letter he received a week ago, “okay, once we get off at Amnesty, we need someone to take us down Greenbank road. The house is at the end of it, somewhere around here.” He taps a patch of moor miles from anything else. Indrid studies his fingers and is glad that, of his more rugged habits, one he elected to keep was letting his nails stay claws rather than filing them down.

“My visions suggest that as long as we don’t ask anyone to drive us out after dark, we should have no trouble reaching it.”

Indrid tries not to be too giddy at the prospect of spending weeks and weeks more or less alone in the countryside with Duck. They’re going because an anonymous note informed him that he did indeed have a family estate and--once they determined that the house near Dartmoor did indeed legally belong to him--it was decided he would go to see how the old place was doing and perhaps take up residence.

He asked Indrid to come without even glancing up from the telegram from the solicitor. Indrid agreed without looking away from his drawing. If two months of semi-courtship in a crowded city got them close enough for that, Indrid dares to hope that being out here together will bring them closer still.

Amnesty is small, as they both expected, the air chilly and fog threatening to swallow whole buildings as they make their way to the Lodge where they’ve been told they can find a driver. When Duck asks the young woman working the counter for help getting to Greenbank Hall, she quirks her lips in a frown.

“I’m not sure there’s even a place called that around here….OH! Do you mean Beacon House?”

“Maybe?” Duck looks at Indrid, who quickly looks at the futures.

“Yes, it seems we do.”

“Okay. Since it's still light, I should be able to find someone to get you out there. If it comes down to it, I can, like, drive you out myself.”

They end up being driven by a friendly young man named Jake, who deposits them and their bags on the steps of the massive house with a friendly wave farewell.

“Agh” Indrid shivers as they step through the newly unlocked doors, “I think it’s actually warmer outside.”

“No kiddin. Damn fog means it’s already gettin too dark to see too. I’ll go get some kind of fire started, you see if you can find some lanterns or candles so we ain’t trippin all over ourselves.”

Indrid begins his search, comes to the kitchen and finds some matches and a candle. The solicitor arranged for food and other supplies to be brought in ahead of time, so in theory lanterns should be somewhere nearby. He’s just glad that the paltry light shows no signs of rodents getting into their food.

When he gets upstairs, he discovers two things; one, all the lamps are gas, so he’s able to light them easily. And two, a mother tortoiseshell cat is nesting with her kittens on a guest bed.

“Well, that explains the lack of mice.”

Footsteps behind him, “Got a fire goin in the sittin room, if you wanna pick a room for yourself I can light one th--awwwww” Duck moves past him towards the cat, who hisses at him, “now, there ain’t any need for that, missy. I ain’t gonna hurt you or your babies. But we oughta bring you somethin more’n mice to eat.”

“I saw some tinned food in the pantry.”

“Perfect, lemme go find a bowl.”

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

Beacon House has seen better days, but Indrid discovers the houses loss is his gain. Duck decides they can do many of the repairs themselves, and sets about ordering supplies from London or bringing them in from Amnesty. The few times they need help, the cook and several others from the Lodge come to assist in the project. These gatherings are far more pleasant than any Indrid had to attend for work (well, except for the ones where he was with Duck). And they always end before dusk.

Indrid occupies himself with figuring out why. There was no mention of this house when he first researched Duck, and even using the local name turns up very little. It’s not until he finds a diary belonging to one H. Newton in the library that he understands.

October the 15th, 1805

I fear the worst is upon me. I cannot leave the house, dare not even peer out the windows for fear of what I shall see. Lucy says it is my health, that we should travel to warmer regions so it will improve. But I know it is not so simple. Were we to flee, it would merely wait for our return. It may even waylay us before we reached town. I am cursed. We are cursed. We always will be.

Beneath the words is a hastily sketched image; yellow eyes and sharp fangs peering from between the bars of the front gate.

There are no more entries.

Indrid is unsure whether to raise the matter with Duck. On the one hand, he wishes him to know of any possible dangers. On the other, his friend is so very content these days, coming in from some project or other with grime on his skin and a smile on his face. Indrid’s own desire to stay with him here, in a house he can pretend is theirs, threatens to drown out all other reasons.

Eventually, his conscience shouts it down while he and Duck are on their evening walk.

“Oh yeah, Barclay told me about that a few days ago. Some ghost apparently wanders around the moor at night; got somethin to do with a murderous ancestor.”

“That does not alarm you.”

“You know I don’t believe in curses and destiny or anythin like that. People make up all kinds of stories when they’re alone in wild places.”

Indrid’s foresight guides his arm, gripping Duck and keeping him from moving forward.

“Does that look like a story?”

Directly ahead of them, a tor rises like a spike. Atop it, revealed by the rising moon, is a gigantic, fur-covered shape.

“See” Duck whispers, “were we back home, I’d say that was a bear.”

“And now?”

“Given there ain’t been bears in this part of the world in decades, I say we get the hell outta here.”

They take off back down the slope, the hall a collection of yellow squares of light in the darkening distance. A howl splits the air behind them and Indrid quickens his pace, keeps his eyes on the future in hopes of protecting them both.

This means he doesn’t see the burrow in the path until his ankle goes sideways in it.

“‘Drid!”

“Under no circumstances are you to try and help meAH!” He yelps as Duck swings him over his shoulder and continues his flight towards the house. As he’s bounced about, Indrid watches a glowing shape bounding closer.

“Thank fuck.” Duck crosses the gate, slams them closed, and lowers Indrid to his feet. Nothing glares at them from the path. But a growl creeps from the shadows and follows them until they shut the door.

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

“How’s the ankle?” Duck drops his coat on the chair opposite Indrid before tending to the fire.

“Better than yesterday. I should be up and moving tomorrow, if the futures are to be believed.”

“You know you don’t gotta rush. I’m happy to take care of you.”

Indrid picks at the ends of the blanket in his lap, “but I miss being able to aid you with work.”

“There’ll be lots of time for that. We got plenty to do to get the house to where we can live in it full time.”

“We?”

Duck goes completely still, then fails to put the fire poker back in place three separate times. When he finally meets Indrid’s eyes, he looks worried.

“‘Drid? What’s your endgame? With, uh, with me?”

“I…” Indrid grabs his teacup, intending to drink it to buy time and finds it empty, ‘I...I don’t know. I, I wanted to prove to you that I could find you a companion who made you happy, hoping you would give me another chance to locate your perfect match. But lately I, ah, I struggle to see that plan working. As I do not wish you to have any match but me.”

Duck moves across the rug, shadows on his face making it hard to read.

“I know that shows great selfishness on my part. If that is not something you wish to have in your life I, I…” he shrinks back as Duck leans down, certain this is the timeline where he accuses him of being a conniving monster.

“Funny you should say you’re bein selfish” Duck braces his arms on either side of the chair, “because I’ve been beatin myself thinkin’ I was selfish for keepin you out here so long.”

“Keep me here forever.” Indrid whispers. Duck smiles, closes the remaining space between them. His lips are still a bit chilly from working outside; Indrid does everything he can to warm them with his own.

The shorter orc straddles him and he whines so needily that Duck snickers in reply.

“What’s wrong darlin? Kissin too much for you?’

“On the contrary; it is far too little, but my injury means my ability to drag you to my bed and beg for more is greatly impeded.”

“Good thing we live alone.” Duck pulls the blanket from Indrid’s lap, nibbles his ear as the seer catches on and begins frantically undoing the buttons of Duck’s workshirt and shoving his suspenders. When at last he pushes it open he loses himself a moment, tipping forward to tongue at the golden ring in Duck’s left nipple.

“AHheh, gettin right to it. Good” Duck unbuttons his pants, “because I’ve been wantin to fuck you since before we even came out here.”

“Oh I see” Indrid purrs, “you lured me into the countryside to sully my virtue.”

Duck laughs, full throated, as his tusks catch in the firelight, “You forgettin the time we got drunk instead of goin to the opera and you told me you convinced two sailors to take you home?”

“Only if you’ve forgotten telling me about the young ranch-hand you gave several rides to” Indrid nibbles along his neck, his twitching oddly in their quest to grind against him without jostling his ankle.

“Not a chance. But I don’t care about reminiscin right now; right now, I got the best lookin fella in the world beggin for my dick.”

“I’m not begging.” Indrid tilts his head back to help Duck get his shirt open some.

“Not yet.” Duck grins, then shoves his hand down his trousers.

“Ohhhhhyes” Indrid reaches for him.

“Keep your hands on the armrests until I say you can move ‘em.”

“But, but” it’s hard to argue when he’s trying to stare a hole through Duck’s remaining clothes. His partner notices and makes a show of moaning louder.

“Only good boys get to watch the show. You gonna be good for me?”

“The best.”

Duck kisses the tip of his nose, then wiggles and kicks his pants and underwear off. Indrid can only watch, growing more envious by the moment, as he fucks himself open and rubs a thumb along his cock. Indrid tries bucking his hips, only to discover Duck is keeping himself out of reach.

“Cruel creature.” Indrid groans.

“Cruel? I’m giving you a seat to the best show in town.”

“I’d rather you take the best seat in town.”

Duck laughs, is still doing so when he bends to kiss him. Indrid whimpers, nails digging into the upholstery to keep his promise of good behavior. Duck notices.

“Good boy.”

“AHHHnnnthankyou, thankyouthankyouthankyou” Indrid moans as Duck drops his weight into his lap, grinding on his clothed cock with abandon. He flings Indrids hands up to his shoulders. The seer glides them up to his hair, burying them there where he’s now certain they’ve always belonged. Duck mirrors him, lips only leaving his to bite the tip of his ear.

“Fuck, Indrid, that’s it darlin, lemme ride you like the sleek little beast you are.”

He whines, loses his thoughts as Ducks hips quicken.

“I know ‘Drid, you like bein mine, like that I’ll bounce on this fuckin perfect dick as often as you want as long as you’re my good, sweet, ohsweetfuck, fuck, darlin’” Duck drops his forehead to Indrid’s shoulder with a groan as he cums, soaking the fabric of his pants. Before Indrid can think about stopping, Duck picks up again with as much force as before, growling in his ear to be a good little social climber and cum for his lord.

Indrid cums at that with a chirping sound he thought he’d stopped making long ago, legs spasming from the force of his climax. Unfortunately, this means his pleasure is chased by a burst of pain. He whimpers, flinches, and Duck spots the problem.

“Oh, oh darlin I’m sorry” He drops to the floor, rubbing Indrid’s thighs, “thought the position would keep you from hurtin.”

“Apparently not. I, I want you to know I don’t regret it in the slightest.”

Duck smiles, relieved, and rests his head on Indrid’s stomach, “Guess you did find me a match, huh?”

Indrid bends slowly, nuzzling his hair with a hum, “Yes, I believe so.”

#indruck #meet ugy #indrid cold/ duck newton #orc au #victorian au #trans duck newton

16 notes · View notes

internalsealpanic · 4 years

Text

Lesson Learned

summary: Pinning exercises are a lot easier when you ask nicely.

a/n: The backstory to this piece was that I went to the church part of our discord server and told people about me being thirsty about Slade and they collectively went: DO HIM. The reader does have a backstory which boils down to rich girl from a crime family is a little shit because I thought this would have a funny dynamic with Slade. Special thanks to @batarella and @knightfall05x for proof reading and giving me ideas. Would this count as my one entry for kinktober?

warnings: This is straight up smut. Please read responsibly. Brat taming, strength kink, daddy kink, orgasm denial, and hinted size kink. (Hilariously half of these were by complete accident.) There is some injury mentioned but not too graphically. Both characters are assholes.

masterlist

Slade was on the ground, his head was swimming even as the sharp shriek of sirens rang loud in his ears. His senses were at once too sharp and too unfocused. Whatever drug he'd been hit with had to have targeted the nerves in his muscles too. He couldn't move. Not substantially anyway. Not in a way that would actually help him. Through the haze he hears the clicking of heels against the floor, then a sharp pain shoots through him when said heel dug into one of his still closing bullet wounds.

You stood above him, your shark's smile hidden behind your mask. "Well old man, I didn't think you would be caught this easy. I might need to rethink this meeting." You hummed tapping your chin as you lean down your heel digging further into his flesh. It's a tactic your sister had taught you. People were less inclined to think clearly when in excruciating pain. If Deathstroke was this easy to capture, was he really worth your money?

He was watching you, blue eyes looking defiant. You whistled low. You liked a hard negotiation. It kept things more interesting. The rapid footsteps of men drew you out of your contemplation much to your annoyance. You debated on just paying them to go away. It would make your life easier but there's a chance these men were truly loyal to the man you had just paid a visit to.

You weigh your options. His reputation may be enough to keep your siblings away. Maybe just long enough 'til their petty little war is over. "I'm going to hire you-"

"-this assumes I'm going to say yes"

You snorted. He noted the confident roll in your shoulders, the kind of cocky self-assured gesture of someone who knows they're going to win. Every movement, every angling of your form deliberately used to show a difference in power and lack of respect. In short, it made you very punchable.

"Your statement assumes you have a choice." You chuckled tilting your head to the side in challenge. He scowled at you and you try to keep the sheer delight you feel out of your body language. You weren't sadistic by any means but for one, brutality was practically bred into you, and two, you are, what your darling eldest brother had so kindly put, a little bitch. "I'll tell you why you'll say yes to my proposal." You said stepping off of him and pirouetting towards your duffle bag. "One, I'm offering your more than a million dollars in cash for the simple job of training me-" You observed his face as it remains carefully impassive. You expected as much. You heft your bag into your arms and unzip it rummaging through the cache of weapons you had stored just in case plan A through F failed you. "Unless we're associated, I'm the only one walking out of here with any money for their troubles." You said tossing the severed head of his target in front of him. You gave him an all too pleased grin.

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

You find yourself pinned down again in the span of 15 minutes, face squished against the training mat, your arms pinned behind you, and most annoyingly your ass raised while your bastard of an instructor laughs in your ear, his lips dangerously close to your ear. You hiss and bristle feeling the fibers in your muscles burn from the uncomfortable angle they've been forced into. You squirm trying to buck him off but his strength rendered your efforts moot. His enhanced strength keeps your body firmly between the sweat-covered mat and his large, toned body which just made you bite your lip to keep anything vulgar from escaping you.

You were 110% sure he was fucking with you at this point but any smart remark you had was either smothered by the mat or died whenever you felt acutely aware of your skin against his.

"Get off of me, old man," You snarl, making a futile attempt to kick him off with one of your legs. He chuckles at your weak attempts, the reverberations from his chest pressing against your back sending a thrum of excitement rolling over you concentrating into more distracting areas. You can't see it but you know he's grinning smugly above you and you can't decide whether it's your horniness or your anger that will win out. You sincerely hope it's the latter.

"C'mon, kid, you can get out of this," He encourages but you don't miss the playful mockery dancing in his tone. You squirm and wriggle and sigh. "Just let me out," You demand, politely. He doesn't budge. You turn your head to pout petulantly at him. That doesn't do anything either.

You sigh again. You hated pinning exercises with a carefully cultivated passion which you would normally direct at whatever instructor was dumb enough to force it upon you. However, that wasn't really possible as of this moment. One of the reasons for this hatred was that you were never pinned down unless you wanted to be, even then they were usually too hesitant to follow through so you never really saw any practical use for the skill. That is until last week when you found yourself being pinned down by the Red Hood which was honestly a fantastic position if you weren't trying to get away from him. Apparently, the large man didn't take too kindly to being shot at even when your very professional self explained that you were in fact a decoy. After you were entirely unable to slip his hold, you begrudgingly agreed to let Slade teach you a few maneuvers. The other reason was that you liked being pinned down. Your body is far too enthusiastic about the feeling of being pinned down. You're pretty sure you've expended more energy into suppressing your thrilled shivers than you have trying to get out of any of the holds he's demonstrated so far. The fact that he was an attractive asshole with no shirt did not help.

"Maybe if you ask nicely, princess" He drawls his teeth grazing your ear, beard bristling against the sensitive skin of your shoulder. You bite back a groan and stop the cant of your hips. "Or are you even capable of that?"

"I am, sir" You grind out but it sounds too breathy to be threatening. You feel the curve of his lips against your shoulder.

"Dunno, brat, I've never seen you do it," He taunts pressing closer to you. You're suddenly aware of just how close you two are. You hate how the way he called you brat sent thrills up your spine. You try to even your breath but you're entirely too feverish both body and mind. You had to think of something before you were lost in a haze.

You nudge your arm one last time before an idea strikes. A familiar shark-like grin spreads like wildfire across your features. Pressing your ass against his crotch, you roll your hips, the movement slow and deliberate and painfully tempting. Sure, it was a dirty trick but 1) he never said anything about using your assets 2) you've been wanting to do that since the first hold. You feel his muscles tense and you can't help but radiate smugness. Your smile vanishes, however, when he rolls his hips against yours giving you a feel of his hardened length through the thin fabric of your gym shorts. The slow, tantalizing friction against your core draws out a vulgar moan from you.

"Do you wanna run that by me again, brat?" He whispers low and husky emphasizing the last word with another grind of his hip. You pant, hips answering back with their own desperate movement. You want to let your hips keep moving, to make him move, to feel his cock against your core but pride flared in your chest. "Make me." You bite out. "I really should teach you some manners."You feel the low rumble of his answer in response seemingly amused by your continued resistance. He rocks his hips against yours drawing out another breathy moan from you. Out of spite you bite your bottom lip and rock your hips in tandem with his. What did you hope to accomplish from this? You don't know but it certainly felt good. Your skin feels hot and oversensitive as your bodies continue to move at this rhythm. The feel of his muscles rippling against you makes you arch your back. You wanted more but you had too much pride. As if spurred on by the movement, he presses a kiss on your shoulder and sucks at your flesh, a rough hand grips your waist tight enough to bruise. "Slade!" You choke out losing your composure. The cry sounds more like a plea than you would like. You sound so small and needy beneath his ministrations.

Distilling your anger into your weakening limbs you try to buck him off again. You make a small noise of triumph when he budges but whine when his grip on you just gets tighter. "Not quite, princess,"

He flips you onto your back. A hand pins both your arms above your head as he situates himself between your legs. His lips capture yours in a rough kiss, the type where you feel two bodies fighting each other for dominance. His teeth bite lightly against your bottom lip asking for entrance. You open your lips less in concession and more of a challenge. The wet muscles of your tongues entangle. Your nose is filled with the musk of him. It was overwhelming. You moan into the kiss and you feel him smile into it. Another small victory.

Slade ends the kiss having undeniably won the match. You try to move your hand to punch the grin off his face but again your hands don't budge. You curse his enhanced strength halfheartedly as the feeling of the heat coiling in the pit of your stomach takes over. Instead of diving back in for another kiss as you expected, Slade trails kisses down your jawline, your throat, and your collar bone leaving very defined very visible hickeys. There was something oddly possessive in his actions. The look in his eye was predatory.

You, foolishly, let your attention wander to your hands seeing what angle you could possibly force them into so you can slip his grip and maybe turn the tables. Your attention snaps back to him when the pressure around your chest loosens and the distinct sound of a zipper fills your ears. Your eyes widen as you watch as he unzips the front of your sports bra with his teeth. Your breath catches even as your chest fills with the lack of constriction. Your too hot skin is grazed by the training room's cold air. He places a kiss in the valley between your breasts but when you whimper and move slightly urging him to proceed. He moves on to your stomach. "Asshat" You seethe through gritted teeth. You let out a groan of frustration. You were going to kill him. You honestly don't care if you've just wasted half a billion dollars on this asshole.

His kisses drift down to your inner thigh drawing a moan from you. Slade chuckles seeing your desire seeping through the thin fabric of your shorts. He isn't entirely surprised considering how unsubtle you are about your interest. A rare moment of embarrassment blankets you. Your legs try to close but rough hands pry them apart placing them on his broad shoulders. You bite your lip when he plants a kiss on your inner thigh. Your lips are puffy and red at this point, looking delicious as you panted. Slade wonders how your lips would feel around his cock but he decides he'll save that for another time. He hooks his fingers on the waistband of your shorts and his eye widens momentarily when he doesn't feel a second layer of fabric underneath it. He looks at you incredulously.

You shrug trying to keep the mischief off your face looking absolutely unapologetic. "It's laundry day-" You shrug a little amused that this is the detail that caught him off guard. "-I did tell you I had stuff to do~"He also supposedly had stuff to do but, apparently, you were stuff. He chuckled and without dignifying your comment with an actual response, he rips your shorts off with ease and tosses them somewhere behind him. A complaint or a threat, you weren't entirely sure, died on your lips when his tongue gave your core a nice long lick. A loud, needy keen escapes you. Your hands now free from his grasp dig into his scalp. Pleased with your reaction he continues. His skilled tongue exploring your core hitting spots you didn't even know were there. Your hips meet to match his pace as he fucks you with his tongue. You whine when he withdraws his tongue but mewl loud and wanton when you feel two rough fingers stretching your insides. His mouth latches onto your sensitive bud, fingers pumping in and out. You throw your head back not being able to contain your moans.

"Look at me, brat," The command is deep and resonant. Your whole body buzzes with excitement. Slade can see your eyes dilate as his voice drops an octave.

"Yes," Your breath hitches when he doesn't move. "Sir" You add as a concession hoping it was enough. You felt your pride waning from the small piece of power being given away. Thankfully, he rewards you with another long lick before you can dwell on it. Slade watches as your face twists in pleasure trying your best not to throw your head back. You see the smugness on his face even when half of his face is buried between your legs. You don't attempt a threat simply because you don't trust whatever comes out of your mouth to be coherent. You were so close. You rock your hips trying to chase your high. Your skin is flush and glistening with sweat. You were so close. He feels your walls tightening around his fingers. Another needy keen escapes you as you were about to tip over the edge.

The motherfucker pulls back. You snarl at him but it comes out sounding more like a needy croon than anything else. He chuckles at you even as he captures your lips for another kiss. His tongue is thick with the taste of you. Your hand tangles itself into his hair while the other tugs at the waistband of his sweatpants. He pulls away giving your lips one last nip before his body is off of you. It's funny how just moments ago you wanted him off of you badly enough that you'd play any dirty trick you could think of but now your skin is burning for his touch. He takes off his sweat pants and his engorged cock slaps against his abs. It takes every brain cell at your disposal not to drool at the sight of it. He was BIG. You wonder briefly if he would even fit.

He spits on his cock rubbing his head against your thoroughly soaked folds. You mewl. A playful look in his eye does not go unnoticed but you were far too preoccupied with other concerns. Thankfully, so did he. Slade eases into your pussy in slow shallow thrusts. You can physically feel your walls stretching inch by inch as he works his way into your tight pussy. He can feel every bit of resistance your pussy is putting up. It's his turn to hiss when he finally bottoms out. Your walls cling to his member trying to milk it for all its worth. You drag your nails down from his shoulder to his arms. You pout when his skin heals immediately. You wanted to mark him as he did you but apparently, his healing factor was not up to being kinky today.

He laughs at your little protest and gives you a quick kiss. He begins to thrust shallow and languid. Your lips are locked in, sensually nibbling at each other's lips. You arch your back pressing your chest against his musculature savoring every bit of stimulation you could get. You cant your hips against his urging him to go faster. His large hand grips your hips and pins them down. The coil in your stomach grows tighter at the ease at which he stops you. You feel him grin against your hot skin.

"Didn't I say I would teach you some manners?" He pulls himself out leaving you feeling hollow and wanting. You're pretty sure if you weren't drunk on your arousal the look in your eyes would be nothing short of murder, however, this was not the case, Whatever venom you had in you vanished in a swirl of neediness that racked your body. Your cant your hips uselessly trying to find friction only to be met with cool air.

"Slade pleeeeaaase!"

You gasp, as a sharp stinging sensation on your pussy knocks the breath out of you. Slade gives you an expectant look.

"Sir, plea-"

Another slap. Your back arches. You’re panting heavy, mind swirling and searching.

"Daddy please!" The words tumble from your lips thoughtlessly. You both freeze. Slade's face is unreadable making you want to shrink away and let the earth swallow you whole. Panic rises in your chest until you feel his hips slam against yours. The force is enough to knock the breath out of you. He manhandles your body to fuck you at a better angle. His grip on your thighs tight and bruising. You whimper when he dips his head down near yours pressing kisses to your jaw and the pulsating flesh of your neck leaving your mouth free to moan his name like a mantra. A deep resonant growl rumbles in his chest sending thrills through your skin into your spine. Your hardened nipples drag against his chest as they bounce with his pace. His cock pumps in and out of you at an animalistic pace. You were absolutely going mad over his rough pace but it wasn't enough to push you over. You were both so close.

"Daddy, please! I- I need-" Slade's cock twitches. His pace goes from animalistic to punishing in the space of a heartbeat. He growls into your ear as he reaches down to rub your clit with skilled, calloused fingers. Your walls tighten around him as you go over the edge. Your orgasm hits you in a flurry of heat and electricity. He fucks you through it as he chases his own. He pulls out his cock. Ropes of cum covering your chest and your stomach.

He lays beside you pulling you close. You moan quietly still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, planting an open-mouthed kiss. You ease into his hold and close your eyes.

"See how easy your life is when you're a good girl, princess," He whispers mockingly into your ear. You raise a middle finger at him too fucked out to care whether it actually conveyed as much venom as you wanted it to.

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

Thanks for reading! Next week will be our regularly scheduled fluff unless I get possessed by the thirst muses.

tag list: Tag list: @batarella , @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @boosyboo9206 , @americasmarauders , @l-horizondepeu , @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @knightfall05x

#dc smut #slade wilson x reader #slade wilson imagine #my writing #reader is a little shit #this is what I use my brain cells for yes

176 notes · View notes

love-and-monsters · 4 years

Text

Unicorn Centaur

M centaur X F reader, 5, 091 words

In this story, you work as a hired guard for a centaur lord. Your job is to get him to the stronghold with his horn still attached- no matter how annoying he is.

You hooked your knife back into your belt and pulled on the thick, metal-reinforced plate that covered and reinforced your chest. It was a pity you were no longer going to be staying in a nice bed, but the money you would be getting for this escort mission would supply you with a nice bed for weeks to come.

Dressed in the royal blue uniform you’d been presented with, you headed outside of the inn to look at your charge.

You’d heard you were escorting one of the young lords- he was the oldest son of one of the local lords and primed to take over his father’s land when the old man died. Being a lord, and therefore, pretty rich, wasn’t the only reason you had been charged to escort him.

The elderberry lords were an unusual kind of centaur. Most centaurs looked like standard horses from the waist down, and completely normal humans from the waist up. But these lords were an unusual sort: unicorn centaurs.

Aside from the long, spiral horn in the center of their foreheads, unicorn centaurs had more delicate bodies and long tails that were tufted in hair. Their fur was typically white, though black, gray, and brown unicorns also existed. It was always oddly shiny, almost pearlescent, and startlingly beautiful.

Unicorn horns were rumored to have magic potential. Extreme healing powers and all that. So, whenever the unicorn centaurs traveled outside of their well-protected homeland, they hired bodyguards to ward off anyone who wanted to cut their horns from their heads, killing them in the process.

The sound of hooves alerted you to the approach of the procession. You watched as they approached. Two of them were standard centaurs, with brown fur and black hair. One of them trailed a thoroughbred after them, presumably for you. And in the middle of them was a pure white centaur. His tufted tail flicked and waved behind him, his shiny hooves gleaming against the dull dirt road. His head was under a veil, held away from his face by his long horn. Veiling was a common practice among unicorn centaurs. It was old, coming from a time when servants would wear sticks and veils on their heads so bandits couldn’t tell those with horns from those without. Nowadays, it was less common, but most unicorn centaurs were a little haughty and hid their faces regardless.

You approached them with a stiff back, arms held ramrod at your sides. “I stand ready for defense,” you said.

The lord turned his head to you. The white veil obscured his expression, but you knew he was looking at you. “A human guard,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension.

“Yes, sir,” you said. Human guards were standard for centaurs, if only because they were much less obvious and could employ guerilla tactics. But that didn’t mean the lords were going to stop being sniffy about it.

“Hmph,” he said, turning his head away from you. One of the other centaurs offered the reins of the horse to you and you swung up onto its back.

“We’re heading for the Vastran Stronghold,” one of the centaur guards said. “It’s a week-long journey. You’ll be paid upon arrival.” You nodded, shifting the reins in your hands. Paid upon arrival was standard for guards as well. It ensured that if you failed, you didn’t get paid.

You set off down the trail at a steady pace. The lord was slightly ahead of you, walking at a steady pace. You shifted impatiently in your saddle. It was going to take longer than a week if he kept up his slow pace. He was barely moving faster than a walk. Then again, you thought, the veil likely made it difficult to see.

For hours, you rode on and on. The sun was hot and your hands kept slipping on the reins. Your rear ached from the stiff saddle. Luckily, it was easy to stay on guard. The trail was in the midst of a field, which made any approaching enemies easy to see.

By the time the sun was setting, you had made it into the forest. It was a mixed blessing. It was far easier to hide in a forest, but the same was true for any adversaries. And it was more difficult for centaurs to move in the forest. The lord was better at it than many others you’d met. His slender frame made it a little easier for him to pick his way out around the trees.

You stopped sometime after the sun had set. Setting up the tent was a hassle. It was large and irritatingly fancy, and you had an easier time getting close to the ground and fiddling with knots and pegs. By the time the tent was up, you were exhausted.

Of course, the tent was only for the lord. You had a sleeping bag, and that was good enough for you. Not that you used it much. You spent about half the night patrolling, looking for adversaries.

The woods got thicker the deeper you went. The next day, even the lord was starting to have trouble traversing it. You eventually hopped off your horse and took to guiding it over the logs and leaf litter. Luckily, the trees provided some shade from the merciless sun.

Resetting the tent that night was difficult. The ground just wasn’t flat enough. Eventually, you managed to set everything up and collapsed into your sleeping bag.

You were roused by one of the other guards near midnight and set up for your shift. Blinking sleep from your eyes you settled next to the tent’s doorway.

You hadn’t been expecting to see the lord during your shift. It was late and you thought he’d been sleeping. However, shortly after your shift started, you heard something shift in the tent. You glanced over in time to see the lord emerging.

It was the first time you’d seen him without a veil. His face was pretty, with delicate, smooth features, long lashed eyes, and smooth, full lips. A long, pearlescent horn spiraled from the center of his forehead. He stepped delicately from the tent, heading toward the edge of the camp.

“Hold on!” You stood and followed him. He looked back at you, his full lips curling into a sneer. “Where are you going?”

He shifted his weight, snorting. “Where do you think?” His long tail shifted, slapping at his flanks. “Need I tell you of my every bodily function?”

“I do need to accompany you, sir,” you said. His eyes narrowed and he gave a horse-like snort.

“You’re a woman,” he said. His tone was derisive enough to make you bristle.

“Indeed. I’m glad you’ve managed to notice. That doesn’t change the fact that I am your guard and I need to keep watch over you.”

“I will be gone for five minutes. I won’t be far away,” he said.

You sighed. “I understand that you’re embarrassed. But trust me, assassins don’t have a sense of honor and they will not hesitate to kill you at any opportunity. Even if you’re pissing.”

It might have been a trick of the firelight, but you could have sworn the lord’s face was turning red. “Fine,” he snapped. He turned and trotted into the woods. You followed from a short distance.

You did keep your back to him while he did his business, keeping your ears out for any other motion. Finally, he stomped out of the bushes, refusing to look at you, and headed back to camp. Whatever. You didn’t need to talk. You just needed to protect him.

There was an uncomfortable tension between the lord and you the next day. He kept his nose firmly in the air as you helped take down the tent and glared at you from under his veil when you started moving. Fortunately, being a guard meant that you had dealt with far worse things than a cranky lord. You ignored him, picking your way easily through the woods.

It was obvious that he was getting tired of traveling, too. He toyed uncomfortably with his veil, snapped at his centaur guards when they tried to pick up the pace, and started stumbling over the little bits of detritus on the trail. It slowed your pace considerably and you heard the other guards grumbling about it when you stopped for the night.

It was your turn to bring the lord dinner that night, so you gathered up his fancy meal (well, fancy for something you were eating on the road) and brought it into his tent.

He was sprawled awkwardly on the ground, reaching for his hooves. There were little cuts around them, probably from all the tripping he’d been doing. You cleared your throat, setting his meal on the ground near him.

“Are you all right?” you asked. He snorted, glaring at you.

“I’m fine.” He tucked his hooves back underneath his body. “It’s none of your concern.”

“If you say so,” you said. You headed back for the tent entrance, then hesitated. The cuts were small, not serious at all, but they looked like the sort that would sting and itch irritatingly. “I have some salve that might help those, if you’d like me to-”

He cut you off with a piercing glare. “I don’t want nor do I need any of your ridiculous human medicines. And I’m not allowing you to smear any of your foul-smelling gunk on my hooves. Just give me my dinner and go.”

Anger boiled, threatened to overspill. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths. Getting into a shouting match with your employer was a bad idea, no matter how much you wanted to do it. “As you wish, sir.” You spoke through your teeth. He snorted and flicked his tail, but said nothing else. Stiffly, you turned and left the tent.

Fortunately, you didn’t need to speak with him much after that. You slept for most of the night and broke down the tent in the morning. Then you were off again, the lord veiled and walking a little in front of you.

The forest was growing less thick, but that was only making you more nervous. This was the most dangerous part of your journey. There was a town only a few hour’s gallop away and it had a port. If someone wanted to grab the lord’s horn and take off, this would be the best part of the journey to do it during.

If the lord was stressed, he didn’t seem to be showing it. He was even slower than usual and got even sniffier than usual when one of you tried to prod him along. By the time you were ready to stop, you were exhausted just from dealing with his constant complaining.

“Can’t you put that up any faster?” he whined as you started setting up the tent. You ground your teeth. “There are bugs out here! They keep biting me!”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” you said. It was growing more and more difficult to not yell at him. You swore you could feel one of your blood vessels getting ready to burst.

“Then your fastest is incredibly slow!” Good lord, his voice was annoying. There was a slightly nasal quality that you hadn’t initially noticed, but which was becoming more and more apparent with every word he spoke.

Cramming all of your frustration away into a back corner of your mind, you finished up the last of the pegs and stood. “It’s done,” you said, adding a sarcastic, “your highness,” in an undertone.

He snorted and stalked into the tent. You leaned back on the ground, trying to calm yourself back down.

“Hey.” You looked up. One of the other guards was leaning over you, giving you a patient look. “Sorry about him.”

You huffed. “I’ve dealt with worse. I think.”

The guard chuckled. “He’s not easy to deal with, I know. Take a break, why don’t you? I can cover your shift if you’d like.”

You hesitated. “You sure? I didn’t take a guard shift last night.”

“It’s fine. Really, you’ve done enough today.” He waved his hand dismissively. You shrugged.

“Sure. Okay.” You know what? You weren’t going to argue. You were going to get some goddamn sleep.

At least, that was the plan. The instant you lay down, though, your head was buzzing. It wasn’t that you weren’t tired. You were. Your body wanted more than anything to fall asleep. But your brain was insistent that you could not.

You tossed and turned. Tried to find even a slightly comfortable spot on the ground. Counted to one hundred, counted back down. Did some meditative breathing. Every time you started to slip toward unconsciousness, your brain would send out alert signals that made you jolt upright out of bed.

After what felt like years, but was actually only an hour, you got up. Clearly, you were not going to sleep. Your instincts were picking up that something was wrong. Might as well trust them.

The other two centaur guards were outside the tent. You positioned yourself a little closer to them, still somewhat hidden in the trees. You didn’t want to bother them, and maybe if you were a little closer to the lord, you’d be relaxed enough to fall asleep.

One of the centaur guards shifted his weight. He was swaying a little on his hooves. The other centaur guard glanced over just in time to see the first guard slump over, landing in a heap on the ground.

Your chest clenched. Automatically, you stood, ready to go help. But the other centaur guard just glanced down at him briefly, then, with an unhurried, uncaring gait, he stepped into the tent.

Alarm bells rang through your head. You plunged out from the tree line, heading right for the tent. The collapsed guard was left on the ground. You felt bad, but if he was fine, he was fine, and if he wasn’t, there was probably nothing you could do. Your first priority was getting to the lord.

You tore through the front flap of the tent. The false guard was standing over the lord, gripping his horn in a single hand. The lord had clearly just been woken up and he was staring at the guard with dawning horror.

No time to think. No time to plan. You lunged. One hand went to the blade you kept strapped to your hip, the other went out, to seize the centaur’s shoulder.

He barely had time to turn toward you. Your knife hit the side of his throat. There was always more resistance when stabbing people than most thought. You really needed to have some commitment behind it. You had plenty. The knife ripped through his neck in a spray of blood.

He choked. His legs wobbled. The hand holding his knife slackened and fell. You seized him and wrenched him to one side, so he didn’t collapse onto the lord. Blood pooled underneath him as he twitched on the ground, the last vestiges of life draining from him.

The lord made a sort of strangled choking noise. You glanced at him. His legs were awkwardly splayed, hands up toward his face. His eyes were huge and horrified. “You- he-”

Okay. First things first. You stepped over the body and held out your unbloodied hand. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re safe now. He can’t hurt you.”

The lord responded much stronger than you thought he would. He grabbed at your hand with both of his, clinging to it with some desperation. “He tried to kill me. He tried to kill me!”

“I know. Come on. Get up.” You gave a gentle tug. He staggered to his hooves. Thankfully he seemed pretty malleable, willing to go in whatever direction you pushed him. You would never have been able to move him if he’d gone slack.

“Where are we going?” he asked. His eyes remained on the corpse no matter where you moved him.

“I can’t move the body on my own. So, unless you want to stay here with it, we’ll need to go outside.” He picked up some speed, scrambling out of the tent. His hooves skidded a little in his haste and you had to brace yourself to support him.

You settled him down by the fire, wrapping blankets around him. He trembled constantly, eyes locked on you as you knelt next to the unconscious guard.

“Is he dead?” the lord asked. You shook your head.

“He’s unconscious. I think the other guard drugged him. That’s probably why he told me to get some sleep. If I’d been asleep, he would have been able to cut off your horn and escape before anyone was the wiser.” You glanced back at the lord. His trembling had increased. “Er. Sorry.” You walked back over to the fire and sat next to him. “When the other guard wakes up, we’ll move the body, get rid of the tent, and keep going.”

The lord shifted his weight. “Thank you for saving me.” His voice was quiet, barely audible over the soft crackling of the fire.

“It’s my job,” you said. After a moment, you added, “but you’re welcome.”

There was silence for a few moments. “What’s your name?” the lord asked.

“Kara.” The lord extended his hand toward you. You moved to shake it, but he took your hand instead and lifted it to his lips. There was a long, breathless moment as his soft lips brushed the skin of your hand.

“Lord Julien Sorrelito. A pleasure.” His voice was warm. You assumed that the tone as was practiced as the words.

Your leg was starting to sting. Without the adrenaline, you were starting to feel the injuries you’d acquired. There was a nasty slash on your calf where the false guard’s serrated knife had caught you as it fell. You probed at it and hissed.

“You’re hurt.” The lord’s voice was surprised and concerned.

“I know. I’ll grab some bandages from my things.” The lord reached up and caught your hand as you started to move away.

“Wait a moment.” He said it with a sigh, like he was annoyed about what he was going to tell you. “Sit down.” You did so, stretching your leg out awkwardly to prevent the wound from pressing into the dirt. Julien shook his hair back and arched his neck. His horn pointed down at your leg. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath.

There was a glimmer around his horn. The light concentrated itself and flowed away from his horn and down to your leg. There was a sharp tingling feeling around the cut, then your skin rippled. It flowed like a liquid, covering the cut entirely. When the tingling faded, there was no more pain. Your leg was whole.

“You’re kidding,” you said. “You can actually heal?”

“You didn’t think people just made that sort of thing up, did you?” Julien snorted. “We can heal small wounds when they’re still attached. If they’re removed and ground, they can cure illness and poisonings.” He glanced at you. “But don’t tell anyone. We try to keep as quiet as we can.”

“I won’t. You’re paying me well enough for my silence.” Julien nodded, closing his eyes. He looked exhausted. After a moment, his head swayed down, ending up on your shoulder. You stayed still. Gradually, he slipped into a deep sleep.

As it turned out, he drooled in his sleep. It would have been pretty funny if he hadn’t been doing it on your shoulder.

By morning, the other guard was up, albeit with a headache. The two of your cleared out the tent and broke it down. Julien watched, looking dazed. The sun was well over the horizon by the time you were ready to move again. “We’ll need to be fast today,” the guard said. “He’ll probably have had allies who are waiting for him to return. They might come after us.”

Julien seemed much more willing to pick up the pace. He and the guard hurried through the woods, moving at a steady trot. You were much slower. Humans couldn’t move as fast as centaurs at the best of times, and whatever he’d done to your leg last night had really stiffened up the muscle. It was a struggle to keep up.

By midday, you were falling significantly behind. Julien kept pausing to look around at you, face still hidden by his veil.

“Look,” you said. “I can’t keep up. I can fall back a little, see if I can catch up with you later. I’ll engage if I see more poachers.”

Julien’s tail flicked back and forth. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“A bit, I suppose. But what else am I supposed to do? I can’t keep up the pace we need to maintain.”

Julien let out a sigh that made his veil flutter. “You can get on my back.”

There was a long pause. You were pretty sure you’d misheard. “Get on your…?”

“Yes,” he said testily. “Get on. I can probably carry you and it’ll let you keep up with us.”

Most centaurs had complexes about people riding on them, and unicorn centaurs especially so. The guard stared at him incredulously. You stared at him incredulously. “Ah, sir,” the guard cut in. “I could carry her instead.”

Even through the veil, Julien’s glare was obvious. “No,” he said. “I’ll carry her. If you need to fight, you’ll do better at it without someone on your back. And if she’s close to me, she can defend me better.”

The guard looked at you and gave a helpless shrug. Julien bent close to the ground and gave you an expectant look. Hesitantly, you climbed up onto his back. His coat was surprisingly soft and silky, despite being quite short. Julien clambered back to his hooves with a sniff. “Shall we continue?”

He kept up the pace surprisingly well for carrying a whole person on his back. You kept shifting your position, trying to find a good place to put your hands. They ended up at the junction between his torso and horse body. It was a little awkward, but he didn’t say anything. Every now and then, he would press one of his hands to yours, shifting your position to a better one. The touch was always unexpected and it always put your heart in your throat.

You were a little saddle-sore by the time you set up camp again. Without your slow human pace dragging down the speed, you were actually ahead of schedule. It would be your last night on the road. By sundown the next day, you would be at the stronghold.

The guard started patrolling and you brought in dinner for the lord. He was staring at the stained patch of floor where the body had been. Options for cleaning were limited on the road, and attempting to splash the tent with river water hadn’t done as much as you’d hoped.

“Your meal, sir,” you said, offering him the tray. He took it from you, blinking like he was coming out a of a daze.

“Wait,” he said as you turned to leave. “Stay.”

You sat down with him and he offered you a chunk of bread. “I feel that I didn’t properly thank you for yesterday,” he said.

“It’s just my job. Money is payment enough,” you said.

Julien sighed. “I haven’t been terribly good to you,” he said.

“I wasn’t expecting it,” you said. Julien frowned at you.

“I am attempting to apologize,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting to be attacked during this trip. I thought I would be safe with my own two guards and I was annoyed that there was a human coming along.” He lifted his gaze to yours. “If I hadn’t brought you, I would be dead.”

You weren’t really used to such sincerity just for doing your job. His gaze was surprisingly intense. “Thank you for your apology.”

He nodded, shoulders slumping with relief. “It was quite impressive, the way you took him down.”

“Lots of training,” you said. “I’m sure I could teach you. Self-defense lessons would be quite useful for you.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “I suppose I never expected a beautiful woman to be so skilled at fighting.

You snorted. “Perhaps you should expand your horizons.”

“Only if you’re willing to help me,” Julien said. You blinked at him. Was he flirting? The tone of voice seemed right. Were you supposed to flirt back?

The moment stretched on a little too long, making it into an awkward silence. Julien cleared his throat, shifting his hooves. “If you’d like to spend the night here, I wouldn’t mind.”

You blinked at him. “Really?”

“Well, if you hadn’t been there last night, I would have died. Keeping you with me seems to be a wise move.” He smiled, brushing a lock of white hair away from his face. “And I would imagine it’s more comfortable in there than it is outside.”

“It is,” you agreed. “All right. If you don’t mind.”

You settled down to sleep, pulling your sleeping bag in around you. Julien was lying on his mat, chin dipped to touch his chest. In sleep, he looked like a statue. The peaceful expression of his face, the delicate way his lashes touched his cheeks, the soft, full curve of his lips. He looked like a very lifelike statue. It was surprisingly hard to take your eyes off him.

You didn’t actually end up sleeping in the tent for very long. About midway through the night, you were woken up and took a guard shift. Julien shuffled out of the tent a little after sunrise, yawning and stretching.

“You’re up early,” he said.

“Had to take my shift,” you said.

“You could have stayed and slept. I would have allowed it.” He folded his legs down to sit next to you.

“No. That would have been irresponsible. I’m not going to just let the other guard stand all night because I want a nap.”

Julien lowered his head a little, staring at the ground. “You’re committed to your job.”

“I’m committed to doing a good job. It’s what I’m paid to do. It’s what my reputation is built upon.” You spoke steadily and carefully.

“It’s admirable,” Julien said. “I… admire it.” He got back to his hooves. “Breakfast first, then we should get going, I think?”

You nodded and stood, brushing your hands off. “I’ll get it started.”

Breakfast was hurried. All of you were eager to get back on the road and make it to the stronghold. Luckily, you had enough of a head start that you didn’t need to ride on Julien’s back this time. He trotted carefully next to you the entire time, peeking at you from under his veil.

By the end of the day, the stronghold loomed in front of you. Julien strutted ahead, showing off his horn and papers of lordship and was ushered in with the usual level of respect and groveling. You were ushered off to the small, cozy rooms used for temporary guests. Your payment was handed over and you promptly collapsed into bed, ready to sleep for at least a full day.

Unfortunately, you had barely been out for an hour before someone came knocking at your door. “His Lordship wants to see you,” the messenger told you. Grumbling, you marched to Julien’s room and stepped inside.

“There you are,” he said when you stepped inside. He looked startlingly pretty when he was well taken care of. His hair looked even softer and his white coat seemed to glow. “I expect they’ve made you comfortable here?”

“I would be more comfortable if I could get some rest,” you said. He was not technically your employer any longer, so you could afford to be snarky. Julien’s tail flicked and he glanced at the floor.

“Then I apologize for interrupting you,” he said. “But I had a proposal I thought you would be interested in.”

“Which is?” you said a little testily. Julien stepped closer, close enough that you could feel his body heat.

“You have shown me that I have a great lack of physical fighting skill. And… perhaps my worldview could stand some more expanding. So, I would like to offer you a job. You would train me. Teach me of the world. I think it would be beneficial for both of us.” He smiled, long lashes fluttering. “And I find you admirable and interesting. I would like to spend more time with you.”

You lifted your chin, peering up into his face. There was something a little arrogant in his expression, but also something hopeful, and something wanting. He really wanted you to work with him. A smile teased at your mouth. Hm. That felt nice. To be wanted.

“I suppose I need to stay with you until you get better at self-defense. As you said, without me, you’d certainly be dead.”

Julien grinned. “That’s a yes, then?”

You smiled back, all teeth. “It’s a yes.”

Three Months Later

Your blade clashed with Julien’s. He sprang back and you pushed your advantage. Even after months of working together, he still startled from the impact.

Julien’s hooves skittered across the ground as he backed away. He swung his sword wildly, barely clanging with yours. Sensing weakness, you darted in.

You realized he’d set you up a second too late. Julien dodged your strike and used his superior weight to press you up against the wall. His sword swung up to your throat, tickling your skin.

“Ha!” he said. “My win!”

“Congratulations,” you said. You leaned against the blade, so the tickling became a sting. “Would you like your prize?”

His lips met yours eagerly. You kissed him back until your felt his blade slip from your throat. In a single motion, you knocked it away and lifted your own sword to his neck.

“I didn’t say I yielded,” you said, grinning viciously. Julien lifted his hands, pouting.

“No fair! You just didn’t say it with words.”

You snorted. “All’s fair in love and war.”

Julien laughed low in his throat. “And which one is this?” You pressed your sword a little harder against his throat and he sighed. “And I yield!”

You dropped the blade and moved in. “Bit of both, really.” This time, the kiss had the sweet taste of victory.

#exophilia #centaur #unicorn #monster lover #monster boyfriend #centaur boyfriend #OCxOC #MxF #centaur lover

283 notes · View notes