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southern-god1 · 4 years ago

Note

I love getting my hole stretched. Please make me into a pair of boots or socks to be stretched open

The lil Irish runt had no idea what was about to come his way, but he knew it couldn’t possibly be good. He had befriended an Irish-American named Sean over the Internet, who had, somewhat stupidly, insisted they go on a road trip when the Irishman came over from The Emerald Isle, though he had paid for Corey’s ticket. Sean had insisted on going all over both the north and the south, and now things were going terribly wrong.

It all started when the two visited a bar in Nocturne City, Virginia, home of the recently formed Rebels team. What Corey didn’t know was that Sean couldn’t hold his liquor and had very strong opinions about football teams.

“You..you Sout-Southerners can’t play for….shit!”

Noticing the angry looks, Corey tried to shut up his friend, only for Sean to yank his arm away as a tall stud approached them.

“The fuck did you just say?”

“Y-y-you guys s-suck! You you SUCK dudes!”

The angry Southerner glared angrily down at the smaller Yankee, and his eyes seemed to flash red, white, and blue, a battle flag tat seemingly glowing under his shirt too.

“You shut up and leave, NOW, or you ain’t leavin the same way ya came in.”

Corey frantically tried to restrain his friend, but Sean wouldn’t shut up.

“Or what? You’ll…you’ll s-h-hoot me? Oooh, big c-c-cowboy with a gun —- s-o-oooo scary.”

The Southerner, Tyler, didn’t reply, but his eyes and tat glowed more intensely. Corey began to feel weird, lightheaded, even though he only had one beer. He felt strangely…heavier for some reason. Maybe the drinks down here were really strong, because there’s no way that guys eyes were glowing.

Sean, on the other hand, felt lighter all over, and very fuzzy-headed, which made sense, seeing as he was about 3 beers in already. He started to idly scratch himself, wondering why he was itchy, making the angry Southerner no mind in his drunken state.

Corey watched with confusion as Sean seemed to turn yellow. Now that was definitely a trick of the beer…people don’t just turn yellow! Parts of the Irish-American runt became grey, a Confederate Grey color nearly the shade used by the Rebels. Sean continued to scratch himself, as his skin began to grow softer and softer. Corey watched in awestruck horror as Sean began to shrink before his eyes, dwindling smaller and smaller, gazing uncomprehendingly up at Tyler. Sean’s cloth arms and legs folded in on themselves and he fell on his back, ass seeming to move up and expand, gaping open as a hole for a foot to enter. The terrified Yankees face looked up, until another layer of grey fabric-flesh hid Sean’s horrified face from Corey’s view. His friend was now a pair of socks!

Corey immediately tried to flee, only to find he felt sluggish and stiff. He had been so horrified by his friend’s transformation that he failed to notice his own skin growing leathery and tough, very difficult to move. The Irishman tried to scream, but no words came from his leathery mouth, which was starting to move downward. He started to shrink, the Southern titan above seeming to grow bigger as he shrank, body condensing and tightening. His mouth and face grow longer but also narrower in places, forming the sole of the boot, while his back grew hard, rigid, sturdy and strong, the exterior sole. Other parts of his body shot up, forming the walls of the boot, hair becoming the laces. On his back was an inscription. “S.12. PROPERTY OF TYLER.” His face was faintly visible on the sole, along with a faint set of marks spelling out his name. Corey would have screamed had he been able to, but his mouth wouldn’t move.

Sean was plucked up. Tyler had already taken off his stinking socks and boots and, without further ado, slipped his huge smelly, musky, stinky, sweaty feet into Sean’s sock bodies, instantly wracking him with both pleasure and pain as it felt as though his asshole was being stretched by a monster cock, his ass now the place where the foot was inserted in the sock, and his mouth forming the sole of the sock, licking up sweat and stink, breathing in footstink from every inch of the foot. Wiggling his toes, Tyler reached for Corey.

Corey felt a pair of manly hands grab him by the sides and a moment later, he felt something akin to the biggest cock he had ever experienced being shoved right up his ass without any lube. It was both painful and pleasurable, but soon that was replaced by an intense and awful smell and taste. Every fiber of Corey’s being could smell the smelly, stinky, musky foot stink, hardly diminished by his sock-friend, and could taste the rank foot sweat as though he was licking the very sole of the man’s foot with his tongue! He would have vomited immediately but he no longer had a mouth.

After lacing up both parts of Corey, Tyler stood up, and immediately Sean and Corey were put under colossal pressure, the man’s weight pressing down on them like twin pile-drivers. He took a few steps. As he lifted his foot, there was was momentary relief from the pressure, but when the came down again, it was horrible, a massive amount of weight settling on top of them again, every step booming and rocking them like an earthquake, massively shaking the two Irish runts, and starting to shatter their will and break their minds from the sheer force of every footfall. Tyler smiled and boomed.

“Damn, you stupid runts actually feel good! You like a real man’s feet, stupid Yankees?”

The two runts in question couldn’t respond, but a small part of Corey’s mind thought about how he was Irish, not a Yankee.

“Yankee, Irish, yer all inferior to us. Your name was Corey? Fuck that, now your just my boots! You and my new socks had better be good bitches or I’ll turn you into something more disposable! How’d you runts like to be my beer piss?!?”

He laughed as he could practically feel their repulsion, and grinned as he walked around the bar a few times, every step shattering Sean and Corey’s resolve.

—-

In the end, Corey broke first. He was worn every day, while Sean was rotated among a cycle of other sock bitches. Corey’s mind -or at least his will and sense of independent self- were literally crushed under Tyler’s huge feet. He became a submissive, obedient, dumb pair of boots, eager to serve his owners huge feet. His face and name on the inside sole was, fittingly, gradually worn away by the imprint of Tyler’s mighty feet, just as his identify was being stomped out under those same feet. Every step broke him down further, reducing him to an obedient and happy boot, eager to serve his Southern God and his smelly sweaty feet.

Sometimes his master called him an Irish runt, and Corey was confused. What was “Irish”? Was it another sort of brand? He was a Corey brand boot, but what was “Ireland”? Was that where he was from? But those kind of questions never lasted long, nor did the fleeting memories they dredged up of an island from a lifetime ago. He didn’t care, as long as he could be the best boots for his master he could possibly be, nothing else mattered.

Sean was next. Rather than become outright submissive, the combative Irish Yankee began to derive a strange pleasure from being worn, eagerly soaking up stink and sweat until his body was totally permeated in manly stink and sweat, embracing his overstretched “hole” and gradually losing his mind from the constant sensory overload. He eagerly soaked up and absorbed every drop of sweat, every bit of toe jam, keeping his owners feet comfy forever and gently pulsing and throbbing with pleasure, massaging his masters warm musky soles.

Tyler grinned as he looked down at his faithful boots laying on the floor as he felt his socks massage his feet after a hard day.

“Good lil boot slave.”

Corey felt proud, his life as a human a distant memory. He was, now and forever, a loyal, obedient pair of boots.

I may have gone a bit overboard, and incorporated a friend of mine into this, but eh, you still got your hole stretched, little sock slave.

@inanimatetffantasies

#inanimate tf #ask

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lostmyshadesanon · 4 years ago

Text

Happy Birthday Felix 🎂🎁 🎉🎊

@teyvat-writer

🦊 - Anon here!!! It's finally the day. I hope.

I have no idea what time zone you live in so I'm posting this a bit early just in case!

If it's still the 28th when you see this. Don't open it!

Let the anticipation build!

This should be the last part for our poor hydro archon, but I'm sure the most anticipated. Let's hope we can do it justice.

Mindbroken?Hydro!Archon!Male!Reader x FoulLegacy!Childe

Wouldn't it be funny if I put a rickroll here?

Or just an error message, lol.

But anyway moving on.

You feebly twitched as you felt Childe fuck you with his entire fist in your gaping hole. Leisurely opening and closing his hand as he ground his knuckles into your swollen prostate, and commented idly on your puffy rim.

By this point you could barely even feel when another orgasm was ripped from your soiled body, and your cock jerked underneath you.

Childe had been at this for hours. He hadn't been inside you or orgasmed since the first round, but he seemed determined to be able to shove both of his fists in your aching hole regardless of how long it took.

When you had the capacity to think between orgasms you wondered why your guards had not coming looking for you after all this time, and hoped that if the Fatui had restrained them that they hadn't died, but just been incapacitated.

Though you were never able to think long before another orgasm was dragged out of you. Combined with the saccharine sweet voice mockingly praising you. Your head was almost completely empty and body numb to the pleasure you were being put through.

You could only gurgle faintly when Childe finally got his way and stretched you enough that both his balled up fists could fit into your gaping hole. He didn't remain there for long quickly pulling both his hands free, as be grinned in glee at your ruined hole.

"I think you're finally ready, my darling patron!" He crowed, lightly petting your back as if you were a prized pet who had completed a new trick.

Staring at him through dazed and bleary eyes you wondered. "Ready for what? What more could you do to ruin me?"

He must have the ability to read your mind, or long ago you had lost the stoic control you had over your facial expression. Childe bared his fangs in a mean smile. "Though I made sure the preparation was pleasurable you've barely reacted! That's quite unfair considering how many orgasms you've had compared to me.", The demon masquerading as a man pouted. "So to make sure you're still paying attention I've brought this!"

Childe brought out a potion bottle with some unknown blue liquid inside. With a loud pop he uncorked it, tilted your hips high enough up to send sparks of pain through your spine, and promptly shoved it inside you so it could empty unhindered into your defenseless body.

There was only a moment where you felt the strange liquid mix with the remnants of your favored's cum were you debated on the odd sensation reminded you of, before it felt like it ignited inside you, and you screamed.

It was like liquid fire had been poured into you. The disassociation you had been able to reach banished like morning fog, as your nerves lit up like a livewire. You start to moan like a bitch in heat drool leaking from your mouth as the fire spread across your body. Making you feel every pulse of your insides and cock, your hole desperately grasping at the bottle inside it, but it was too small!

What had Childe done to you?! That something the size of a wine bottle would feel too small??? As your body desperately begged for something bigger, something warmer, and the aching need to cum.

That shouldn't be possible. You shouldn't even be able to come at this point considering how many orgasms had been forced upon you?!?! You could only cry out in delight eyes rolling when Childe's hands skimmed over your cock, and tugged teasingly at the bottle in your ass.

"Ah, already begging for more, my dear patron?" Childe stated teasingly. "Dottore did say this was strong but I didn't think it'd be this strong."

Barely leaving you room to breath. Childe ripped the bottle from your grasping insides sending you screaming into orgasm. You were barely aware of your begging as you sobbed at the empty feeling inside you.

"Oh, darling don't worry you'll be full very soon. I have to make sure to claim you in a way that NO ONE will ever be able to satisfy you again. That way both you and the world know you're MINE." Childe whispered the words confidently into the small of your back before dragging sharp canines growing steadily into fangs down to the swell of your ass.

"Prepare yourself!" He cautioned before sneering over your begging form and rolling eyes, "If you still have the capacity too." Before he slid his fangs deep into the small of your back a glowing riptide mark spreading out like ink over your skin as electricity started to coat his own.

Spine arched from the conflicting flashes of pain and pleasure you felt more than saw the transformation happening behind you.

Cool hands grew massive claws as they clutched at your hips drawing hints of blood from where they pressed. The cracking of electricity and bone as you were hoisted off the ground jerkily from your current partner's growth in height and size. The fangs in your back sliding smoothly out and a smooth texture replaced it almost like being pressed up against marble. You could feel fur tickling your back as you twisted to see what kind of horrors awaited you.

He was massive, he was intimidating, he was gorgeous. The feral boy who had struggled to survive in the abyss had not only tamed it but made it part of his strength in this new form. Massive blood red horns sprouted from his mask, and a cape seemingly made of stars and space.

Dragging your eyes down you froze. Childe's cock had already been awe inspiring as a human, but in this form...

It was terrifying. It seemed to emerge from some kind of protective slit. The shape was as inhuman as his current form, and a size to match. He was easily double if not closer to triple your height and his cock fit his current form. Easily the size of one of your thighs if not bigger. You now understood the need for hours of stretching. It was ribbed increasing it's girth though it did not have a bulbous head which made you weary. That implied that whatever Childe had turned into was a creature built for egg laying. You couldn't see any kind of testes but knew he was fertile considering the steady drip of pre cum from the swollen tip. You could also see a slight pouch towards the base of his member which you knew meant he probably had a knot too.

You were horrified when your body shivered in pleasure at the sight and smell of the crime against nature before you. You desperately were trying to convince yourself that the utter wanton lust inside you was based on whatever mysterious liquid Childe had forced you to consume.

A rolling purr vibrated through you from the creature before you as you chocked on your own drool unable to take your eyes off the cock before you, but Childe didn't allow you to stare for much longer.

Raising your body up as if it weighed no more than a toy, and similarly treating you no better than a ragdoll, Childe positioned you over his monstrosity of a cock.

Desperately you were muttering no over and over again as you pawed uselessly at his shoulders trying to climb away as you were lowered closer and closer to the leaking member. You knew you'd never recover from this once you got a taste of what was about to penetrate you you'd never be the same, and only be able to thirst and be filled by this monstrous thing.

A deep chuckle pressed near your ear as Childe bent so that his face was near yours still lowering and positioning you for his cock. "You did say on your honor as an Archon you'd take me. So take me!"

Before sheathing himself inside you in one smooth motion. Your nerves screamed with you. You could feel ever rib as they caressed your swollen insides and invaded your body. You could do nothing but cry and take it, as he used your body like nothing more then a sex toy to masturbate himself with.

Grunts and growls joined your screams and begging as he furiously bounced you on his dick. Whispering praises and croons near your head while your eyes crossed and tongue hung uselessly from your mouth. Though his tip wasn't shaped like a human man's it did its job of digging into your prostate so that pleasure was dragged from your willing body, and your unwilling submission from your mind.

You're going to break! 💙

You're going to brEAK! 💙💙

You'RE GoING To BrEAK! 💙💙💙

You screamed until your voice broke, eyes becoming fully unfocused, as your body spasmed uselessly through orgasm grasping desperately at the welcome intruder making itself home inside you.

Gleeful claws dug deeper into your hips drawing blood when Childe felt you completely relax no longer even a token struggle being put up by his patron. No his love. Now he could just TAKE.

Claws delicately crawled up your torso to carefully grasp and pull at your swollen teats intent on tugging and bruising them until they were swollen enough to be mistaken for small tits and the idea of covering up would be laughable due to sensitivity.

He watches in delight as you could only moan, and get out enough syllables to beg while he drove you far past overstimulation. Your pupils not even attempting to track anything occuring around you.

Though all good things must come to an end and Childe could feel the tightening in his gut and stir in his knot that this round was drawing to a close.

You could only sob and thrash in utter pleasure as Childe continued to stimulate your chest. Nipples bruised and swollen a cherry red easily the size of the tip of a person's thumb, before feeling the man, monster, behind you still with a deep groan.

Your animal hind brain could only gasp in relief thinking this trial of endurance was finally over. But you should stop under estimating your favored he loves to exceed expectations.

You could only twitch weakly, pinned to his crotch, as you were suspended in the air, when you felt his knot start to inflate. Your cock dripped a steady flow of pre cum from Childe's tip being ground against your probably bruised and weeping prostate, as you both waited for his knot to fully inflate.

But the worst had still yet to come. Finally after what felt like minutes and a few micro orgasms you felt Childe move. A twitch in his stomach before a lurch in his cock. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before taking a ragged gasp.

Something solid was moving through the member nestled deep inside you. Stretching you out further to accommodate it. You could only sob as it worked further into you.

Childe dragged a clawed hand up to your cheek lightly caressing you. "You're doing so well pet. You'll make such a good incubator and brood mother. All for my lovely eggs." Childe sneered delighted at your faint moaned denials and twitches. He loved that even now you were attempting to fight him. Pleasure broken as you were.

Childe ground into you lightly tugging at your rim with his knot to hear you gasp and cry before leaning forward as if to hear you better. "What was that my love? I couldn't have heard you denying to be my broodmare after all you promised to take all of me. I'm only making sure you follow through. After all you'll look so pretty full of my eggs."

Childe's hand on your face dragged your chin down to look at your ever filling stomach. During your conversation he had been quick to fill you. You were so bloated at this point you could easily see the faint shape of the eggs inside you.

A ragged gasp left your lips as the next egg pressed sharply against your prostate finally sending you over the edge and into orgasm. You wailed as your eyes rolled grasping desperately at your ever increasing stomach. Unable to come down from orgasm as each egg made a pass over your prostate.

This seemed to delight your captor. Childe's voice deepened in mockery, "You try to keep your pride and make denials that you're not a whore who loves the idea of being fucked and filled constantly and yet you can't stop continuously orgasming on my cock like some desperate slit." Childe wickedly continued micro thrusting to fuck you with his knot as his eggs kept your orgasm from truly ending.

Over time Childe felt his eggs slow to a stop and his knot start to deflate. Carefully he lowered himself and you to the floor as he let his transformation peel away to show his human form keeping his still sizeable cock plugging you full.

Placing you delicately in his lap so you could continue to cockwarm him Childe hummed a jaunty tune. Waving a hand in front of your face his tune picked up in beat at the lack of reaction or recognition in his darlings eyes. He had finally broken you for now. He expected you'd pull yourself together eventually, but it should be long enough he can bundle you away, and sedate your now human form, for the long trip to Sneznaya.

After all his family had been inquiring when he would take a partner, but knew he'd had his eyes only on one. After all one day he'd been King of everything and he needed a capable partner at his side. Placing a kiss on your temple Childe continued humming as he watched his agents enter the room and prepare for their swift getaway.

He grinned your first mistake was truly saving his life and putting him in debt to you. After all he always keeps his promises and pays his debts.

I think that's it. That was hard to figure out how to end. 🤔

Hopefully you liked it Felix! After I did all that hype for this chapter.

Happy birthday again. 🎉🎉😆😆

From 🦊 Anon!

#finally done #minimal editing #i apologize for spelling mistakes or things like that #i was on a roll #hopefully i hit all your kinks felix #i tried to include most of what i saw from your thirsts on your blog

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whenimaunicorn · 5 years ago

Text

Playing House - Part 11.1

Previous posts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

A/N: Shorter than usual, at 1203 words, it’s gotten harder to write around here and all I have to offer you this week is a nice, enticing teaser. Hope it sparks a little excitement!

And thank you SO MUCH to all the fans that submitted their ideas for what Hvitserk is like at parties!! Hope you enjoy seeing your little details reflected here!

Hvitserk. You remember him from one party last year. Hvitserk doesn’t go to your school, so it wasn’t like anyone besides his brothers already knew him, but man, he just ran that room. His smile was infectious, he was a killer on the dance floor, and when he called out ‘body shots’ just about everyone in attendance followed him into the kitchen. You can still picture the shape of his luscious mouth as he leaned in to lick salt off the nearest girl. By the end of the night, you had been part of a select group gathered around the couches, listening to him philosophize about all the things he’d learned backpacking across Europe. He’d even convinced the host to let him smoke his hand-rolled cigarettes indoors, with nothing but his charming smile and a little lingering eye contact. Suffice it to say, you’re looking forward to getting to know him better.

You have no idea how Ivar or Ubbe are going to introduce your role to him. Like, what would they even say? “Yes, this is our roommate, who we take turns fucking, and also she cleans the house, and cooks for us, and maybe if you ask her really nicely she’ll let you play the game too?”

Turns out, they must not have figured out what to say, either. When Hvitserk comes sweeping in with a big rucksack and an even bigger smile, they remind him of your name but that’s about all the introduction you get. His friendly eyes land on you with warm interest, but nothing in that gaze suggests that he’s already been told about the dirty things you all get up to around here. “Y/N, yes, I remember. We were at that party together, right?”

You’re quite surprised that he would remember you. You hadn’t been very talkative. “Yeah, I think so.” Play it cool. Given that you’d seen him coming out of two different bedrooms over the course of that night, adjusting his clothes and each time jumping right back into the party with a fresh drink and a fresh smile, you’d assumed your memory would have been quite overshadowed.

“You play the new FIFA, dude?” Ubbe asks, pulling his brother’s attention away. “We just got it.”

Hvitserk makes a scoffing noise. “I’m undefeated, bro.” He drops the rucksack on the floor in the living room and hops onto the couch.

Your eyes linger on the bag. You’re not even really sure if they had already hammered out the sleeping arrangements, either. The third bedroom is yours, now, but maybe you’ll sleep with one of the boys tonight, and Hvitserk will still take that bed? You should probably go change the sheets on it, just in case.

Ivar follows you. Leaning against the wall beside the doorway, he watches you stripping the linens. Amusement sparkles behind his eyes.

“What,” you ask.

“You like him.”

You bend across the bed, pretending to have trouble with the corner of the bottom sheet just to hide your flustered face. “Not…not more than you.”

You catch Ivar’s proud smirk out of the corner of your eye. “Not more than me. I like that. Good. But,” he pronounces, “you have a crush.”

You roll the stripped sheets into a ball in front of your stomach. “Your brother’s a charmer. Last time he came around, I think everyone had a crush on him.” You flick your eyes casually, innocently, up toward the ceiling. “Maybe I’ll set him up with Sonya while he’s in town.”

Ivar just nods, continuing to gaze intently at you. He nudges his elbow at the sheets. “You’re giving up your bed.”

“Far as I can tell,” you say, hugging the linens in a little tighter, “all the beds in this apartment are kind of mine.”

Ivar leans in, enjoying your sass. “Then I wonder which one you’ll be sleeping in tonight.” Somehow he makes that sound like a threat.

You transform your thrill into a smile and an enigmatic shrug, moving toward the door to get some fresh sheets.

Ivar makes you pause with a hand on your hip. “I want you to be an excellent hostess for Hvitserk,” he instructs. He nods toward the ball of sheets in your arms. “When you’re done with that, why don’t you go out there and get them some drinks, and snacks.” His eyes flit across your face, idly admiring. “Treat him…like he lives here too.” And then he taps your butt to dismiss you.

You’re a bit flushed as you head to the linen closet. That was a signal that Ivar wants you to cut Hvitserk in on the thrall arrangement too, right? Although if so, you wonder why he won’t just come out and say exactly that. Hm. Maybe he wants it to be your choice. Wouldn’t be right for him to just order you to sleep with someone, anyway. This way he’s kind of just giving you the option, isn’t he.

That is, of course, if Hvitserk is even interested. It already feels insane that two gorgeous guys want to sleep with you at the same time. How likely is it that you’d attract a third? Especially someone with the charm and pull that Hvitserk has. You’ve seen it; that boy can, and did, have any girl he wanted. Certainly he’s not desperate for any handouts.

By the time you’ve finished tidying your bedroom, getting it ready for a stranger’s use, and then gone to the kitchen to set some fresh beers and snack selections on a tray, you’ve talked yourself out of doing anything to catch Hvitserk’s attention when you bring it out. Not that you really know anything about seduction, anyway. Couldn’t be a flirt if you tried. Your style is mostly just to pine, and wait, and do as you’re told, isn’t it.

And this is what Ivar told you to do. There is a sort of submissive little thrill in setting that tray down in front of your guest. Showing him a level of service that is unusual, although not entirely out of place. Undercover subbing. “Here,” you say, although you don’t really expect to get the boys’ attention away from the rapidly-shifting images on the screen, “I brought out some things I thought you might like.”

To your surprise, Hvitserk meets your eyes as you look up from the tray. “Thanks, y/n, that’s really sweet of you.”

Have you ever met one of those guys that just, makes really amazing eye contact? Like you almost have to close your eyes and look away, because he’s just so warm, and confident, and seems like truly interested in you as a person, even though he can’t possibly be because he’s just too damned hot it’s like trying to look directly at the sun…yeah. Hvitserk’s one of those. You’re not even sure what kind of silly little response you mumble back to his praise.

“Gooooooooooal!” Ubbe shouts, saving you from the moment. “In your face, dude!”

Oh no. Did you distract Hvitserk too much from the game?

“That’s alright, dude,” Hvitserk replies, pausing to actually wink at you. “You can have one goal before I crush you. I want you to feel like you had a chance.”

Next Part

Taglist is open: @hanhanxx @xxdearlybeloved@littledeadrottinghood @persephone-is-here-omg @rekdreams247 @inforapound @creepshowzombae @tomarisela @youbloodymadgenius @walkxthexmoon@funmadnessandbadassvikings @trashqueenbitch @justlovelifeblog @earl-aive @supernaturalvikingwhore @equalstrashflavoredtrash @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen @ceridwenofwales @grungyblonde @pokeasleepingsmaug @hvittysmutanon @honestsycrets @wuxiesalt @thorins-queen-of-erebor @writingfromasgard @tootie-fruity @lordsexmachine @uncomfortable-writers @sadbutatleastsassy @sweatstreatz01 @ritual-unions-gotme @likealostkiss @thehangedmanandthehoneybee @xxlilqueeniexx @thefightingdragon @xbergiex @artemiseamoon @ivarinleatherpants

#ivar x reader #ubbe x reader #hvitserk x reader #ragnar's sons #vikings fanfic #playing house fic

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starshine583 · 5 years ago

Note

can we see damianette with v?

(Let me just say that I absolutely LOVE this concept!! I could write a whole ficlet on this one too! anyway, I hope you like the snippet as much as I did.)

Darkness. That was all Marinette had ever known. In fact, it was all a good portion of the world had ever known, and it was thanks to this little thing called Soulmates.

A long time ago, the gods decided that humans had become blind to the true purpose of love and romance. So, to remind them of this, they cursed the world with literal blindness, and the only way to nullify this curse was to touch your soulmate directly. Then, the gift of sight would be restored to both parties, and they would finally be able to see for the first time.

At first, Marinette was extremely excited to find her soulmate. After all, who wouldn’t be? The life of the seeing sounded wonderful, especially when her Maman and Papa would tell her stories of the sea and the stars. And having the love of your life, the person you’re going to be with forever, be the first thing you truly see? That sounded incredibly romantic, and she couldn’t wait to experience it.

As the years passed, though, and more people around her found their soulmate, the excitement that had been bubbling inside her began to fade, and a quiet resignation took its place. If she hadn’t found her soulmate yet, that meant she probably wasn’t going to be one of the lucky ones who found their soulmate early. Therefore, she needed to learn to be patient, instead of tearing herself apart with anticipation.

This revelation led to Marinette exploring her capabilities and becoming affiliated with her blindness as best she could. She could already get around fine, but she wanted to get around better than fine. She wanted to get around so well on her own that people forgot she was blind altogether. Then, perhaps, she would be able to forget too. Or at least forget that everyone but her could see.

She had just started being able to walk without using her cane when she received a pair of strange, magical earrings. The discovery was definitely a shock, but the thought of being able to push herself to the absolute limit as a superhero intrigued her. So, she accepted the earrings and became Ladybug, savior of Paris.

Imagine her surprise when she found out that her partner was also blind. He didn’t move around as easily as she did, but their gadgets helped them find their way well enough to fight. For example, her yo-yos would use beeping sequences to tell her when she was near something, while Chat Noir used his staff as a makeshift cane, and the akumas were normally loud enough that they didn’t have to guess their locations.

Alya joined their school around the same time that Marinette became Ladybug, and Marinette was absolutely delighted to meet her. Not only because the new student gave Nino his sight, but also because she was able to describe the colors to Marinette in a way that she could understand. Her parents had tried to tell her about the colors before and how beautiful they were, but in the end, the descriptions always depended on sight.

Alya, however, described them with feelings.

“Blue,” she would say, “is like dipping your hand into the pool. It’s cool and calm and sometimes sad, but it’s beautiful. It’s the color of the sky and the sea and your eyes.”

“Red is the color of heat, of anger, of blood.”

“Yellow is the color of sunshine on your skin and happiness and things that make you smile.”

“Green is the color of envy or disgust, but it’s also the color of summer’s grass.”

“Black is the color of darkness, the same thing you see now.”

Now that Marinette had at least somewhat of a shaky grasp on what colors were like, she wasn’t nearly as annoyed when Mlle Bustier decided to take the class to an art gallery during their field trip to Gotham. It was still an inconsiderate thing to do, but she had Alya to guide her if necessary and had heard about a section of the gallery that was made specifically for blind people. So she had hope that the visit wouldn’t be as awful as it sounded.

“Remember class,” her teacher called as she led everyone inside the gallery, “everyone needs to have a safety buddy at all times. Gotham is well known for its villain attacks, so stay together!”

Alya sighed next to her. “It’s not like it’s any different from our akuma attacks. Why all the fuss?”

“Well, the villains here don’t transform back once they’re caught.” Nino pointed out. “It’s kind of like a ton of Hawkmoths running around instead of akumas.”

Marinette nodded in agreement, though none of them were probably looking at her anyway.

“True, but they also have more super heroes here.” Alya argued. “Batman, Red hood, Nightwing, Robin- if a villain attacked us, they’d be surrounded in ten minutes!”

Marinette held back from commenting on that remark, but she knew from personal experience that superheroes had their own lives too. Just because a single villain showed up somewhere didn’t mean that all of the heroes in Gotham would show up at the same time to fight it, or that the villain would be any easier to take down once outnumbered.

She lightly touched Alya’s arm to get her attention. “I’m going to go find that blind section that Mlle Bustier was talking about .”

Alya paused her conversation with Nino to reply, “Do you want me to come with you?”

“Would you mind?”

“Of course not! I’ll go tell Mlle Bustier where we’re going, but you can start walking now if you don’t need any help?”

“No, I can manage.” Marinette smiled. Mlle Bustier had passed out a special map of the gallery the night before that had bumps for the walls and statues and braille to tell them which rooms were what. Besides, if she could fight akumas across the Parisian rooftops on a regular basis, she could certainly find her way around an art museum.

The two separated, Alya going right to speak with Bustier, and Marinette going left to find the blind room. She idly tapped her cane on her shoulder as she walked across the hardwood floors, the echoing footsteps and hushed talk of other visitors giving her directions on which way to step and which way to avoid. Some of the voices spoke in different languages, and it caused Marinette to wonder whether the people around her were tourists like herself or locals. Probably a decent mix of both.

When she was sure that she’d found the correct room- there was a sign with braille on it that said “blind section” - she let her cane tap against the floor and began wandering around the room. The pictures inside had bumpy textures for her to run her hands across, and the statues that were open to anyone above the age of eleven were a mix of grainy and smooth, most likely made from different types of rock. It was admittedly strange tracing her hands over things that were supposed to be human bodies, but if it was the only way to observe the master pieces..

A few minutes passed of her dragging her hands over the displays when something strange happened, something that made her pause.

Footsteps and voices had been a consistent background noise from the moment she walked into the gallery, but for some reason, both of those sounds abruptly stopped in the last minute of her being there, as though everyone that had been in the room with her suddenly left. That wasn’t possible, though, because she didn’t hear anyone leave, and she couldn’t fathom why a whole group of strangers would tip-toe out of a room to avoid being detected by her.

Before she could call out to the people who had to be around her, somebody gasped, proving that other people were, in fact, still in the room with her. Then, another person gasped, then three, and someone shrieked.

Now Marinette was panicking. What was going on? Why were they screaming? What did they see that she couldn’t?

Where footsteps had been scarce before, there were now footsteps everywhere, along with more screams. People were running, but from what? She didn’t hear anyone else enter the gallery, nor did she hear a villainous outburst.

Marinette strained her ears to listen for something more, something out of the ordinary that would cause people alarm, but it was hard to hear anything else over the screams. The only other thing she could catch was a strange, hissing sound. They couldn’t be running from that, though, could they? What would be making a hissing sound that had everyone bolting out of the gallery?

“Marinette!”

Alya’s voice nearly made Marinette jump five feet in the air out of fright, but she caught herself and turned towards the direction she assumed her friend was coming from.

“Alya, what’s going on?”

Somebody grabbed her arm, and Alya’s voice spoke up again right next to her. “We need to go. There’s this weird, green gas that’s filling the gallery, and it’s causing people to.. to..”

Alya’s explanation faltered as she let out a snort, which confused Marinette. Didn’t she sound panicked a second ago? Why was she laughing now? This wasn’t a prank, was it? No, Alya would do that..

Another laugh burst from her friend’s lips. Then another. It almost sounded like she was trying to contain it, like she was laughing against her will.

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows. What did she say about the gas again? It was causing people to do something? What if it was causing them to laugh?

“A-Alya?” Marinette said, trying to remain calm as she grabbed Alya’s shoulders. If the gas was causing people to laugh, does that mean she’s inhaled it already? Was the effect going to be permanent? Was it going to be fatal? Why would someone release that type of gas into an art gallery?

“Mari-Marine-” Alya wiggled out of Marinette’s grasp and began laughing harder. Marinette tried to grab her again, but her friend fell to the floor.

“Alya!” Marinette cried, kneeling down next to her. The girl was writhing on the floor now, cackling like she’d gone mad.

“G-Get- you need- you need to- need to go-” She said through laughs, but that was all she said. After that, Alya fell into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, and Marinette was left panicking and wondering what she should do. She could try to go get help, but she didn’t know where the gas was coming from. Even if she did, she had no way of knowing who might be waiting for her outside. The gas might be a way to push herself and the other civilians out onto the street.

Marinette stumbled to her feet and took a moment to listen to her surroundings again. She could still hear screams, but they were more towards the back of the gallery, while laughter could be heard towards the front. That meant the gas must have come through the front entrance. Was that the hissing sound she’d heard earlier?

Just as she was about to call out Tikki to give her a visual on the gallery, another sound reached her ears. This time it was a clicking, similar to that of metal being hooked onto something, and it came from above her. Was someone on the ceiling? What would they be doing up there? How would they get up there in the first place?

A whizzing sound followed the click, and Marinette tensed as she listened to it grow closer. Something or someone was coming towards her. Was it the villain who spread the gas? Why didn’t she hear it move on the ceiling beforehand? Was she going to have to defend herself and Alya as a civilian?

A pair of boots hit the hardwood floor, and Marinette shifted into a fighting stance, holding her cane up like a sword. If she had to go, she didn’t plan on going easily. “Who are you?”

“My name is Robin.” The response was quick, almost automatic. “We’re evacuating the premises. I need you to come with me.”

Marinette hesitated. Wasn’t Robin one of the heroes Alya had mentioned? The person in front of her sounded like another teenager. (Then again, being a teenager didn’t stop her from saving Paris on a weekly basis)

A leather glove wrapped around her fore-arm- his hand, she realized -and he pulled her against him.

“Hold on tight.”

Hold on tight? “What do you me-”

Robin clicked a button, and with a sharp tug, they were flying through the air. Marinette let out a yelp, and then she did something that changed her life forever.

She wrapped her hands around his neck.

As soon as she did, a bright flash of light invaded her vision, and suddenly, colors were everywhere. There were light colored walls and dark colored floors- perhaps that was the brown she’d heard about? -and the statues were a mix of light and dark colors, similar to the marble rock that she’d been taught about. And the paintings- oh, the paintings were just bursting with color and life! It all looked positively extraordinary and amazing and-

Robin gasped above her, no doubt from the shock of seeing as well. His hand must have slipped from whatever was pulling them upwards, because in the next moment they were falling back to the ground. (And she could see it! She didn’t have to hear the rush of wind or feel the pit of her stomach rising to know!)

The two hit the ground with a grunt, and Robin swiftly shifted their position to use his body as a shield to protect Marinette from further injuries as they rolled across the floor. This resulted in Marinette landing on top of Robin and Robin rubbing the back of his head with another groan.

“A-Are you okay?” She asked as she pushed herself up to hover over him. That fall didn’t feel too steep, but having extra weight on top of him most certainly would have made the landing worse.

Now that she could actually see the person in front of her with her own eyes, she could tell that he was definitely a superhero. He had an entire costume on, equipped with a cape and everything. She even spotted a utility belt on his waist that appeared to have a hefty amount of gadgets on it.

Robin looked up at her, and though his mask hindered her view of his eyes, the surprise was clear on his face as his eyebrows shot up.

“Who..” He trailed off, his head tilting slightly as he glanced around the room. He was still absorbing the fact that he could finally see, just as she was.

His gaze snapped back to her. “Who are you?”

I could ask you the same question. She thought. After fifteen years of searching, she’d finally found her soulmate, and not only did he live halfway across the world from her, but was also a superhero just like her. What were the odds?

Reality slapped both of them in the face when another scream pierced the air, and the two scrambled to get back to their feet. Soulmates or not, they were still in the middle of a villain attack. They couldn’t get distracted.

People were still laughing hysterically on the floor, but now a strange gas was trailing into the blind section. Marinette knew she should be panicked seeing it, considering what it did to Alya, but another part of her felt giddy, because Alya had also told her that the gas was green. She finally knew what green looked like!

“We have to get out of here.” Robin said. He pulled something off of his utility belt- was that a gun? -and shot it upwards. Marinette’s gaze immediately followed it curiously, and she managed to catch sight of a shiny object latching onto an open hole in the rooftop. It made a clicking sound, reminding her of the sound she’d heard when Robin first swooped into the gallery.

So, that’s how he got in here. She thought to herself.

Robin pulled her against his chest again, clicking the same button he had earlier to start rising to the roof. “No surprises this time, all right?”

Marinette couldn’t help the laugh that burst from her lips, but it wasn’t because of the gas. The ludicrousness of the situation was simply too much. Who asks their soulmate not to give them another surprise such as the gift of sight? Who finds their soulmate in the hero who’s saving them during a villain attack?

Apparently, Marinette does, and this field trip, she decided, was turning out to be much more interesting than originally expected.

(Send me a letter and I’ll do a thing!)

(The next one I’ll be doing is O with Felinette!)

#asks #Daminette #Soulmate AUs

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haberdashing · 4 years ago

Text

What A Tangled Web We Weave (19/?)

TMA AU diverging from canon at the end of episode 92. Jon is forced into an arranged marriage by Elias; Martin does what he can to help.

on AO3

Martin took a few tentative steps towards the group of people still remaining in the church; Jon did the same, though he didn’t have quite the same look of trepidation that Martin was sure graced his own face at the moment.

Martin didn’t know what to say, didn’t know where to start explaining everything and making amends, but soon enough, the decision was made for him.

“Can I finally mention the giant spider in the room now?”

Martin could feel the blood drain from his face as Tim spoke, though it wasn’t as though he were giving away any big secret there anymore.

“Yeah, Tim, go right ahead.” Martin paused, thought about his wording a bit, realized that Tim hadn’t seemed to struggle with that reference the same way he had before. “I- I think you could anyway, actually? I mean, I said not to tell people, right, but it’s not telling them if they already know...”

Tim seemed less than impressed with Martin’s reasoning, though he still pressed ahead without hesitation.

“Martin has been a spider monster this whole time, and he made sure I couldn’t tell any of you.”

“Wait, what?”

“What do you mean, ‘this whole time’?”

“You did what?” Jon’s voice was soft, but it cut worse than Tim’s just the same, and Martin could feel the weight of Jon’s gaze upon him as he worked out how to respond.

“Okay, you’re not wrong, but... first off, it’s been like two weeks, that’s not that long in the greater scheme of things, is it? And, and secondly, I didn’t mean to do that to you. I told you that already, Tim. You know that.”

“Do I?” Tim’s gaze was filled with fire now. “Do I know that? Or- maybe you’re going to make sure I think that’s true, make sure I trust you, despite everything, despite myself-”

“I- I wouldn’t do that.” Martin’s voice sounded weak even to his own ears, and he tried to sound more confident as he added, “I won’t.”

“Could you do that?” Melanie’s expression had a certain sharpness to it, like a knife that hadn’t yet determined its next target. “Change our minds about something by just... saying the word?”

“...maybe? I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve tried it.”

“Why don’t you ask Annabelle Cane?” Jon’s voice sounded calmer than the others, but his gaze didn’t waver as he stared down Martin.

“I only met her this morning, and it’s not like she gave me some, some sort of user manual for my spooky spider powers or anything- she’s been less helpful than Elias so far, and you know that’s saying something-”

“And here I honestly thought you two were dancing around each other because Tim liked you. God, that wasn’t even that good of a lie, was it, but I didn’t know what else could be going on...”

“You thought I liked him?”

Melanie shrugged nonchalantly. “That’s what Martin claimed when I asked why you two were being so weird.”

Tim didn’t respond in words, but the way he wrinkled his nose said enough. (Martin tried to tell himself that it was just the prospect of being with an eldritch monster that disgusted Tim, that he’d be equally put off by anybody else with eight eyes who could make people stop moving just by telling them to, but Martin wasn’t so sure.)

“I was planning on telling you before the time came.” Martin tried to sound more confident than he felt. He’d meant to explain sooner, but... but he hadn’t, and whatever excuses he had were just that. “I had a plan, even, I just- didn’t think it would happen this fast.”

“Why did things get moved up, anyway?” Jon’s tone of voice was casual enough, but Martin could feel the question digging into him all the same, the words spilling out before he could second-guess them.

“I don’t actually know. Annabelle said something vague about circumstances changing, and I knew better than to press her further about it. She didn’t tell me until this morning, either. Said she thought I’d do something ‘unwise’ if she gave me more of a warning.”

A brief pause, a breath for air, and then Martin spoke of his own accord. “I don’t suppose Elias explained any more, then, either?”

Jon shook his head. “All I got was a phone call, and he only covered the what, not the why.”

A phone call. Annabelle Cane had been hovering over Martin’s bed before he woke up, and Jon got to be informed by a phone call. It almost made Martin want to laugh, if only because his other instinctive reactions would be even more situationally appropriate.

“Look, unless you guys are going to do more here than just stand around and talk, I’m out.” Tim’s voice was sharp, biting, snapping Martin back to the reality of the situation. (Were those teeth, in that stained glass window up there?) “Not like there’s much to celebrate either, and if it’s pity you’re after, you’ll need to find someone else.”

Martin shook his head silently; he wasn’t sure what he wanted from Tim now, exactly, but it certainly wasn’t pity, especially for a situation that he knew had been largely of his making, consequences of his own choices.

(As much as anything could be called a proper choice when the Web was involved, anyway. Perhaps they’d been planning all this for months, years, decades, longer than he could have possibly imagined. That wasn’t enough to absolve him, though, he knew that much.)

“Nobody’s asking you to stay.” Jon said.

“Yeah, that’s about what I expected.”

Before Martin could ask what exactly Tim meant by that statement, he was gone, fled out the front door faster than Martin had realized he could move.

“I think I’m out too.” Melanie’s voice wasn’t quite as sharp as before, but there was still an edge to it somewhere. The knife had been dulled, that was all. “I’m sure we can discuss... whatever this is later, back at the Institute. This place gives me the creeps.”

Martin nodded as Melanie stalked out, though he did idly wonder if there was more to her escape than her distaste for the odd little church they were in, if she held much the same feelings about Martin’s transformation as Tim and just wasn’t as willing to say as much.

The woman Martin didn’t know spoke up only once Melanie was in arm’s reach of the door. “Melanie, wait-”

“I said I’m out.”

And the door closed behind her.

Then the only ones left were Jon and Martin, Basira who Martin barely knew, and the woman Martin didn’t know at all.

“So.” Basira’s voice was calm as always. “I would give my congratulations if I thought any were in order.”

Martin let out a shaky laugh, and Jon let out a soft snort as he said, “No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“Condolences, maybe?” the stranger said. “Though that’s not quite right either, I don’t think you can find a greeting card for this one...”

Martin smiled at the thought, and Jon broke out into a laugh, short but genuine-sounding.

“The arranged marriage part you might be able to find greeting cards for somewhere.” Jon mused out loud. “But I think the supernatural bit is beyond even Hallmark’s capacity.”

The woman let out a snort not unlike Jon’s own.

“I don’t think we’ve met, have we?” Martin knew he hadn’t met the woman before, but he figured better to hedge his bets and err on the side of politeness just the same. “I’m Martin Blackwood, one of Jon’s assistants... though, er, I suppose you know that much now...”

“Georgie Barker. I’m Jon’s...” Georgie looked over at Jon for a moment before finishing her sentence. “...friend. Jon’s mentioned your name before, it’s good to put a face to it.”

“And it’s nice to meet you, Georgie.” Martin extended his hand, and Georgie joined him in a handshake without hesitation; her hand was big, cool, soft but with a firm grip. “Wait, not- Georgie Barker of What The Ghost?”

“The one and only. Always nice to meet a fan.” Her smile looked a little too wide to be genuine, but Martin supposed it was still better than the alternative.

“Didn’t you get mentioned in a statement once? I think Tim had to call you, was it?”

That wide smile shrank slightly. “Yeah, Melanie’s. We’ve got some mutual friends, one of them ended up weirder than I knew, that’s all there is to that.”

“Are we going to keep making small talk, or do you want to talk about something actually important?” Basira’s voice held only a hint of irritation to it, but that was enough to make her true feelings clear.

“If you’re looking for permission to leave, well, go-” No. Too close to a command. “...you know where the door is.”

“I’m rather enjoying the small talk myself.” Martin looked at Jon, surprised, saw Jon’s nonchalant shrug. “It’s a nice chance of pace, after... everything.”

“Right, well, see you in the office then.”

As the door closed behind Basira, Martin realized that he didn’t actually know how to get to his own home from here when he made his own exit, didn’t even know where “here” was... and his wallet and Oyster card were definitely back in his flat, not in the pockets of this perfectly-tailored suit...

“...I, er, might need help getting back. When the time comes. Annabelle drove me here, but she didn’t exactly set me up for the return trip...”

“I can help you out with that, since we’ll be going together anyway. No reason to overcomplicate things.”

Martin blinked a few times at that. “You’ll be, what, walking me home? Jon, I hardly think that’s necessary-”

“Walking you home and staying there, yes.”

“You don’t need to-”

“I don’t have a place of my own, Martin.” There was a bit of a sigh in Jon’s voice. “I haven’t for... a while, now. Ever since Leitner...”

“Oh yeah.” Martin felt like an idiot now. How had he forgotten about the murder charge that had kept Jon away from the Institute, away from him, only weeks prior?

“I’ve been relying on...” Jon’s eyes flicked over to Georgie for a moment. “...friends for a place to live. But if, if you’re willing to take me in, at least for now... well, it would certainly help spread out the burden, at least.”

“Right. Yeah, not a problem.” Except that his place was a mess and had always been too small and there were probably still cobwebs all over his ceiling, Christ, why couldn’t Annabelle have warned him about any of this... “Not that, that you’re a burden, and I don’t want to pressure you or anything...”

Another glance over to Georgie. “I think it’s probably for the best.”

“Alright, well... if you’re ready, then, feel free to lead the way.”

Jon held the door open for both Martin and Georgie, and crossing that threshold back into the hustle and bustle of London seemed like a dividing line of sorts.

That had all happened, and now here he was, back in the real world, ready to take the Tube home with a multitude of people who didn’t know the slightest bit about the supernatural, would never know that among their number would be a spider monster and an Archivist who knew too much.

God, Martin was married. He was going home with his husband.

He really wished the thought cheered him up more, but all it did was make him feel sick to his stomach as he waited for the other shoe to drop.

#tma #tma au #tma fic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fic #the magnus archives fanfic #the magnus archives au #jonmartin #jmart #the dinghy #web martin #personal #my writing

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spicysoftsweet · 5 years ago

Text

Illumi x Reader, Emperor AU Oneshot

A/N: Meh, possibly a little basic since it was hastily written, but I felt like writing something other than my main story! I’ll post on AO3 as well~ A baby dose of smut at the end, under 18 please do not interact.

Also this isn’t proofread cuz yeah, so any mistakes please ignore lmfao

---

“Thank you, come again sir!” You said, in as cheerful a tone as you could muster, as you handed over an overflowing cup of assorted, chopped fruits to an older gentleman regular. Now that it was early summer and your family farm’s harvest had been abundant, you and your baby sister sold fruit daily in the small but bustling market of your village. Your stand was successful, owing to the freshness of the produce and the polite cheerfulness you and your sister exuded.

“I’m surprised you’re still out here!” The old man warned you, steadying himself on his cane as he held the cup with his other hand.

“Of course I am! Who else would serve you your afternoon snack?” You joked, tapping the old man on the shoulder playfully.

He returned an edentulous smile. “Just be careful, young miss!’ He warned, turning to leave.

“Understood, uncle!”

I wonder why he was surprised to see me out here…, you thought but decided to dispel the thought immediately. The old man was a little kooky anyway.

Now that it seemed that the afternoon rush was starting to wane, you inspected your stores and realized you need to replenish. You moved to the back to start preparing more of the fruit, then waved your little sister over.

“Lily, we’re running out of watermelon. Can you be a dear and bring some more?” You whispered to the plucky nine-year-old. “Are you strong enough to carry it?”

“Of course sis!” She grinned and showed a fist. “I’ll be back in a flash!”

With that, she ran off, down the hill to the farm to collect more fruit. While you were waiting, you continued to work on slicing peaches and mangoes, humming softly as you worked. It was warm outside, even warmer in the tiny shack, and sweat was collecting on your brow as you prepared the next few cups. Once you were done, you would take a short break to get some water, so you focused on your work.

That was until you heard the clip-clop and short whinny of a horse arriving outside the stand. Since Lily was still gone, you rinsed your hands clean with a small bucket of clear water, and went to the front to serve them.

“Hello, and welcome!” You said, brightly, still drying your hands on the apron, until you looked up and saw not the wandering traveler on horseback as you expected, but a stunning man in the garb of an imperial guard reining in the most regal-looking horse you had ever seen.

You began to shake, and the guard gave a disarming yet malicious grin as he sensed your fear.

“I come on orders of the Emperor,” he announced, his voice loud and spirited, and leaned over the counter of the shack, both elbows now propping up his chin. You fell prostrate at the word Emperor, on the sun-baked dirt of the road, but the guard only laughed.

“Get up, I’m not the Emperor, no need for formalities.”

You shook your head, knowing that anyone who had his seal was effectively representing the sovereign and you were just a lowly village girl. What right did you have to hold your head up high?

“Stubborn, are you?” He mused. He entered the shack, which made your heart pound in terror, and nudged you with his boot, then knelt to your side.

“If you don’t get up, you’re disobeying a direct order, and that truly would be a cause for death,” he said. With that, you immediately got up and folded your arms before you, bowing slightly.

“Hello sir, how may I serve you today?”

“That’s better,” he said, now leaving the shack and returning to the counter.

“Serve me an assortment and a cup of water. I’m parched.” You nodded quickly, and went to the back to present him with these items. As he drank, you watched him shyly, having never seen someone from the empire this far in the outskirts.

While the guard was stunning, he was odd-looking: pale with hair an unnatural crimson, a slender, pointed face, and heavy-lidded amber eyes, reminiscent of a golden dragon. Even though he spoke in a sing-song voice, he seemed like he could breathe fire at any time. He noticed you watching, and placed the cup down forcefully before he started on the fruit.

“Like what you see?” He teased. It was already hot in the shack, but now you were burning up. He continued to eat in quiet but ravenously, licking his lips to collect the juices running watching you carefully as though making a grade in his head.

It turns out he was, because the next thing he said, shocked your entire system.

“It’s your lucky day, little flower. Today is the third wave of concubine selection, and I’ll be your ticket into the palace.”

You were dumbstruck. Concubine selection? Palace? No, what you did was sell fruit, take care of your sister and parents, and work on the farm. That was your existence, nothing less, nothing more.

“Why do you look confused?” He repeated, in genuine surprise. “The town criers were all over the land and should have notified all the villages to offer up their women of marriageable age. Did they not make it this far?” He tapped his chin, idly, looking up as he thought. “Well, that’s at least five people who will need to be executed when I make it back.”

It suddenly occurred to you. That’s why the old man had been surprised that you were still out in the open. You should have been hidden. You had heard enough about the stories of women who entered the palace and failed concubine selection only to be made slaves immediately. It was awful. Why hadn’t you hidden? Why hadn’t you known? Why had you been out in the open where everyone could see?

Now it made sense that your mother had not come out today with the two of you. Why she had looked at you so forlornly in the morning as you headed out in the morning, and hugged you extra tightly... Now you were angry. It felt like a betrayal.

You had been quiet for long enough that the imperial guard had grown impatient.

“Let’s go~ I don’t have all day.”

“C-can I say goodbye to my family first?” You pleaded. “They’re just down that hill.”

He gave you a cruel smile. “If I see them, I’m formally required to cut them down for disobeying a royal decree in not registering you for the selection.” With this, he unsheathed the sword at his side, and swung twice in swift, sure strikes. “Which would be fun, I admit.”

You immediately dropped to your knees again in pleading for your family.

“Don’t worry, I’m too lazy to go down there anyway. Plus, I’m late,” he said, re-sheathing his sword. “How about you grab some more of that fruit for the road?”

Finally mounted on the monster of a horse and holding onto the imperial guard’s waist (he had called himself Imperial Guard Hisoka Morow), you were whisked off to the palace. You looked back at your childhood home with tears in your eyes, knowing that unless you caught the eye of the Emperor or received the favor of a high-ranking concubine, you would never have the luxury of seeing your family again. Off in the distance, you could see Lily, running up the hill, a watermelon in hand, and your heart broke.

----

Your entry into the palace was a whirlwind. In seconds, you were treated to more extravagance than you had ever had in your life - inspected by the imperial physicians for health and disease, bathed in milk and rose petals, and dressed in vibrant and soft silk more extravagant that you had ever seen in your life, under the supervision of Imperial Guard Hisoka who stood outside the preparation area, monitoring the transformation of ugly duckling into swan.

You stepped out on shoes that were like stilts, unable to walk and unsteady, stabilized by Hisoka’s hand outstretched for you. Your ears still stung painfully from the multiple fresh piercings to accommodate the ornate jewelry now framing your face.

“W-why are you so invested in me?” You asked Hisoka, who helped you a few steps before calling for a palace maid to accompany you. He walked by your side, hands behind his back, staring straight ahead as you continued to hobble.

“You seem like you have potential, and it’s always good to have an ally in the harem.” He got closer as he whispered this last portion.

“If the emperor doesn’t want you, I’ll add you to my household. I’m quite impressed by how well you clean up.”

You couldn’t tell if it was fear or excitement that caused the flutter in your belly, but you almost stumbled, and Hisoka caught you. Looking at the hapless palace maid by your side, his eyes narrowed.

“You are well aware that a single scrape can cause her disqualification. If she falls, I will have you executed, so accompany her knowing that your life is at stake.” Hisoka threatened. The maid looked like she had aged ten years at once. You were afraid for her, and for yourself, now making sure to take every next step slowly and carefully.

Hisoka grinned, likely relishing in the extreme power he had over others.

“I’ll see you at the selection~” He sang cheerfully, as he trudged ahead, sword by his side.

----

Emperor Zoldyck looked from his throne out at the women kneeling on one knee before him, with their attendants, hoping for a look in their direction. Uninterested as usual, the young man, sovereign over multiple nations through subjugation of his four younger siblings, sighed and called over his lead advisor and right hand man, Imperial Guard Hisoka.

While he was uncreatively named the Treacherous Emperor for his upheaval of the kingdom after his father’s death, he was as beautiful as he was powerful, and so the noblewomen continued to dote on him. However, despite this, he had yet to select his consorts and had never taken a legitimate wife before ascending to power. There were rumors that he was in love with his favorite guard, and this was fueled by the fact that he was bold enough to sit on a throne on his left side rather than stand guard, crossing his legs and looking onto the crowd of women as well.

“I added a few to the selection by the way, your Majesty,” Hisoka whispered to the emperor to the side. “There were a few stragglers.”

The emperor shrugged impassively. “Point out those you found fascinating. I can’t be bothered with this.”

Hisoka’s eyes gleamed as he pointed straight at you, and two other women. Fear struck your heart.

“Rise,” the emperor said, beckoning. You stood up stick-straight from your spot, not having any home training, and stumbled forward, falling into the woman before you. Who fell into the woman before her. Who fell into the woman before her…

Hisoka started to laugh uncontrollably as you got up quickly, gathering your dress, and kicked off your shoes, prostrating yourself again before the Emperor, repeating “I deserve to die, I deserve to die, I deserve to die, I deserve to die.”

The two women who had gracefully made their way to the front smiled and snickered softly, regarding her. Hisoka had to stifle a laugh as well, but the emperor, hoping to establish a sense of order, then turned to look at the rest of his imperial guards.

“Drag those two out.”

The two women froze in fear, and just like that, were carried away, kicking and screaming.

Hisoka, surprised himself, held his laughter, and raised his eyebrows at the emperor. You continued to prostate yourself, crying for having disgraced yourself to the emperor. Exasperated, he rose and without regarding you, exited to his right side.

“The selection is concluded for today.”

And just like that, hundreds of people dispersed.

Hisoka knelt beside you again, giving you an amused, sardonic look. “I knew you’d be entertaining.” He called your attendant back and ordered her to take you to the temporary lodging palace.

“Once you’re done, go to the office of punishment to receive 10 lashes for allowing her to fall,” Hisoka said to her to your and her dismay.

“It was my fault!” You pleaded.

“Yeah, but you may or may not become one of the Emperor’s precious things. So~” His smile widened. You felt the blood run cold, but accepted defeat. “Rendezvous at the same place tomorrow morning. You haven’t been eliminated yet.”

---

Sleep didn’t come easily to you, and by the time morning arrived, the palace maids had to work twice as hard to smooth out the fatigue on your face, as you made it to the selection again.

This time, the hundreds of women had been split to a select fifty, and you were surprised that you were called. Also noticeably, this time you were closer to the front, rather than in the back, right corner as you had been in the middle. The goal was probably to decrease the number of obstacles you’d have to go through, to your embarrassment. On your way here, you’d already heard the whispers:

She looks so country…

She can’t even walk in those heels, she was a walking casualty…

Not to mention, she got the other two unfairly punished!

You still continued to concentrate on your balance as selection continued and each woman was individually scrutinized, then it came up to your turn again. This time, your attendant, her butt probably still sore from the 10 merciless lashes given yesterday afternoon, was extremely careful helping you up as you stood before the Emperor.

You avoided looking into his eyes.

“Greetings to you, your Royal Highness,” you said in a practiced manner, hoping to cover up your country accent.

“Passed.” he said in a calm, even voice. His voice was assuring and alluring but you were in a frenzy of emotions.

Passed? What does that mean, “passed”?

Before you could figure out what passed meant, you were dragged away.

----

It was when Imperial Guard Hisoka came in congratulations, surrounded by a group of senior palace maids, the ones that worked in the central palace only, and two eunuchs, that you figured out what ‘passed’ meant. You were being favored.

Your heart pounded and thumped and cried the entire time you were dressed and prepared.

Fear of not being good enough. Anxiety of what was to come. Anger of leaving your family. Determination to remain in the emperor’s favor.

If you were to lose favor, it would be all over for you.

Stripped to your undergarments, made up, and wrapped up in a red quilt, you were carried over to the emperor’s personal quarters, where you knelt in your underwear until he pulled back the silk curtain.

“I am at your service, your Royal Highness,” you said with eyes lowered, hands clammy, face flushed, and heart screaming in your chest.

“Your accent… is entertaining. You may rise.”

You rose to your feet, hiding your body with your hands in shame. You were so exposed, so vulnerable both physically and in terms of power dynamic. In the snap of his fingers, he could have you executed.

You looked up and finally paid attention to his face, and immediately fell in awe. He was really as beautiful as they said.

His hair was long, lustrous and soft looking, and he had soft features, and smooth skin like a child. But most beautiful of all were his large, doe-like eyes. Despite the fact that you knew he was known to be cruel and quick to dole out punishment, even back in the countryside where you were from, you couldn’t help but fall for these doe-like eyes.

“What is your name?”

You said your name in a soft mumble, and he repeated it, trying the words on his lips.

“Well,” he said your name out loud again, “I’ve decided to start the harem with you.”

With that, he moved quickly as you were left to process. You let out a gasp as he lifted you up in his strong arms; you reflexively put your arms around his neck. He paused, and looked at your lips longingly before placing you on the royal bed.

Once you were on your back, he climbed onto the bed, straddling you on both sides. Your whole body started to quiver as you pulled into yourself, but he placed one hand gently on your cheek.

“Relax.” With that he leaned in, his lips cold but soft as they pressed to yours. You felt your body be consumed entirely with that kiss and your body relaxed, your arms and legs laying uselessly by your sides. You don’t remember when your undergarments were removed, but the thin fabric had disappeared, possibly ripped away by him as he distracted you with his tongue exploring your mouth.

He was intoxicating. His kisses traveled from your lips, to your neck, to your collarbones, to your nipples, abdomen and finally down into your core, where you arched in pleasure, adjusting to a sensation you’ve never yet experienced. His hands traveled gently up and down your thighs as his tongue ran circles, spirals, and figure eights around your clit, and his tongue pierced your warm center, making you moan unintelligibly in pleasure.

“Call me by my name,” he said, his voice about an octave lower as the palm of his hand worked your bud and the tips of fingers worked the sensitive nipple of your breasts.

“Y-your Highness!”

He gave himself two pumps before entering you slowly, giving you a moment to adjust and then thrusting himself forward to the hilt, then pausing, flipping his hair back to keep it out of his face as he hung over you, completely inside.

You were letting out small, soft whimpers, as you tried to adjust to his size. It was uncomfortable but it hurt in a way that felt good. He didn’t move and you stayed where you were, and he continued to focus on looking at you straight in the eyes.

“No, call me Illumi.”

“Illu..mi,” you complied, still breathless.

“Good,” he said, as he started to pick up speed.

The moment seemed to last forever, as your euphoria continued to rise and rise, and he thrust harder and harder inside of you, as if he intended to make a royal descendant that very night. The room was filled with your whimpers and moans, and soon, he let out very soft groans as he finally reached his limit. Your coil snapped first and you released, your vagina seeming to milk him of all he had. Then his final thrust came, and he tipped over as well, filling you to overflow with his royal semen.

He parted from you, and rolled beside you, not saying a word. He didn’t hold you, but existing, in the bed with him, somehow felt like enough. He was the emperor, it could be more transactional than that, but it wasn’t. He had held you, and had put his lips to yours. It was enough for now. You’d only be one of many.

But you were still curious.

“Why me?”

“Why not you?”

You felt your face grow warm. It was as good an answer as any other. He was the emperor, he could do whatever he wanted. You wondered if you were done.

He got up and walked over to a chest, placed far away from the bed you’d both soiled with sweat and body fluid. You sat up, watching him, curious as to what he was doing. If he would leave, or have you escorted out.

He pulled out something small in his hand that you couldn’t see.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

You obeyed, and he knelt behind you on the bed, his fingers in your hair, affixing the top of your hair into a high bun, then securing it with whatever he had in hand.

Before you finally drifted off to sleep, you took a peek at the mirror across the room to observe his handiwork; little did you know, he had placed a seal in your hair designating you as his - a single, round-capped yellow pin.

#illumi x reader #illumi zoldyck x reader #emperor au #illumi zoldyck x oc #things that i do when quarantined

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thebibliomancer · 4 years ago

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Justice League Indispensable: JLA #222: Beasts II: Death Games

January, 1984

I’ve noticed over two-hundred and twenty plus posts that villains love being tall and dangling heroes from their fingers.

That tactile sensation... It must feel amazing. And a little squirmy.

Not much else to say about the cover. Except that Hawkman’s legs seem to not exist.

Anyway.

Last time on Justice League: the Justice League have been dealing with a lot of weird animal/people hybrids. Has Dr. Moreau finally been adapted into DC? Probably not. But Flash, Elongated Man, and Hawkman all get badly injured in separate locations by these Ani-Men. And Firestorm catches a catgirl named Reena robbing the Empire State Building. She asks him for sanctuary so he takes her to the JL Satellite to spill the beans on the Ani-Men.

This time: Superman is in the hilarious position of interrogating catgirl Reena who has forgotten how chairs work.

Just sitting on the table. Probably getting hair everywhere.

Firestorm tells Superman to chill out with the hardnosed animated Justice League approach (I mean, he doesn’t, but animated Superman also needed to chill out, amirite?) because Reena volunteered to help.

Reena says she has no choice but to trust the League and that she’s lived in DAILY TERROR for the past few months.

She asks if any of them have heard of Repli-Tech?

Dang, shame Batman is off having recently formed the Outsiders because I bet he knows all the companies. All of them.

Ooooorrrr Aquaman does?

Aquaman: “Repli-Tech Industries... They were one of the first of the genetics companies to go public on the stock exchange, weren’t they? I remember they made quite a splash a year ago... But I haven’t heard anything about them since.”

Oh, Aquaman, you punster, you.

So Reena lays down some exposition about how Repli-Tech was a hilariously mismanaged company, where the executives forced a rapid capital expansion beyond its market niche and how a recession just bankrupt the overextended company.

But despite the dismay and panic of the other execs, hilariously mustached CEO Rex Rogan had a daring plan to save the company!

Rex Rogan: “Dr. Lovecraft and his genetic discoveries were the basis for our initial success, developing new forms of medicine -- new fertilizers -- even new fuels! He’s come up with a way out for all of us, involving a new, experimental form of DNA manipulation. It could kill us -- but the alternative is disgrace, financial ruin, and imprisonment.”

Oh, sure. Of course. Why not trust a guy called DR. LOVECRAFT.

But due to faith in Rex Rogan, CEO, or just fear of prison, the whole board all agrees to this wild plan.

And the wild plan?

Dr. Lovecraft uses SCIENCE to put them all in cocoons where they are transformed into furries.

Rex Rogan Maximus Rex: “We are reborn -- we are above the beasts, and above mankind! We will do more than merely survive -- we will conquer -- we will rule!”

Then with company guards also enhanced by Dr. Lovecraft, Rex has them steal a whole bunch of shit which is used to protect Repli-Tech from bankruptcy.

Huh.

Uh. I don’t really get how becoming furries was an essential part of this plan.

If the plan was just to steal a bunch of shit to make up for poor financial management. But live your best lives, Repli-Tech board of directors.

Anyway, having super hunky animal powers is handy when the superheroes inevitably become involved which oops look its happening. It happened last issue and this issue so good thing they had turned themselves into furries.

(Do the Repli-Tech board of directors not have to make any public appearances? They’re a publicly traded company, apparently.)

Also, Maximus Rex buys a warehouse to turn into an arena for some death games where humans fight beast-men for the amusement of the rich and powerful like politicians and corporate executives.

Not really sure how this specifically saves the company but I think that’s more of a personal project for Maximus Rex, lion hunk.

The blood sport did make Reena start thinking that maybe Rex was the asshole.

‘Uh no shit’ chimes in Hawkgirl and Wonder Woman who determine now is a good time to interject that Reena is just as much of a monster for sitting idly by as people were killed in blood sport.

Firestorm, Superman, and Zatanna counter ‘hey lets hear the rest of the story, mkay?’

Reena grew unable to stomach all the death and as luck would have it Rowl, one of the Repli-Tech guards recently transformed into an animal hunk also found the whole situation gross.

He helped Reena escape but wound up captured himself.

He did manage to high kick a scorpion man though. So that’s something.

Anyway, Rowl getting caught is why Reena was breaking into the Repli-Tech office in the Empire State Building. She wanted to find evidence!

Hawkgirl: “I don’t believe it. Not a word. She’s obviously a plant -- she said herself, she was Rogan’s mistress, that she always did everything he told her. Why should we believe she’d turn against him?”

Firestorm: “Look at her, Hawkgirl -- me, I believe her.”

Aquaman: “We can’t ignore what she’s told us, Shayera.”

Even Superman goes yeah lets believe the catgirl. And I’m sorta wondering about all the male Justice League members believing the catgirl while two out of three of the woman leaguers are like uhn uh I don’t trust that darn cat.

But we shortly see that Reena was telling the truth about Rowl, if nothing else.

Guards at the Arena snooze gas Rowl to drag him from his cell into the Arena.

A Guard: “Y’know, I used to be friends with this guy, when he was still human. Rex gives him a chance to be something special, and he goes and blows it helping some damn cat.”

Rowl comes to in the center of the Arena with the crowd roaring for his blood.

He tries to talk to the crowd, win their sympathy by saying he used to be human like them but they’re rich dicks who want to see someone horribly murdered for their amusement.

Trying to talk to them was a non-starter. And Maximus Rex even mocks him for trying.

Maximus Rex: “Human you may have been -- but you were never like them. Smell the air: it’s so thick you can taste it -- the oily sweat of a blood-hungry mob! They want a death, Rowl... They want your death!”

Maximus Rex asks the crowd what Rowl deserves and they chant DEATH and KILL HIM so Maximus Rex jumps down to the Arena floor to see to it personally.

He’s kinda like Roman Emperor Commodus from the historically adjacent movie film Gladiator who liked to gladiate instead of just watching Gladiator gladiate.

And unlike movie Commodus, Maximus Rex is no slouch.

Right off the bat, he blocks Rowl’s ultimate technique, a jump kick.

Poor Rowl is doomed.

And he doesn’t even know it yet. He manages to hit Maximus Rex once and thinks he’s winning.

Rowl: “You’re just as you were in the boardroom -- you’ve no stomach for a real battle! We used to laugh about you, Rogan, down in the ranks! All of us -- we called you a gutless wonder!”

Maximus Rex retorts by disembowling Rowl.

Maximus Rex: “So, Rowl... Which of us has no stomach now?”

Savage af.

Then he knocks Rowl down and RIPS OFF HIS HEAD TO SHOW TO THE CROWD??

Geez! This is a gory story! I mean, we don’t see anything really except for some dark blue blood but geez!

A lion man just ripped off a jump-kicking wolfman’s head in a gladiatorial arena for the ultra rich!

You’re bonkers, superhero comic books!

RIP Rowl, Justice League #222 (1984) - Justice League #222 (1984).

Back at the Justicey part of the plot, 22,300 miles above the Earth, the League receives an emergency message from Dr. Hamid of Cairo Hospital.

Or he says he’s Dr. Hamid of Cairo Hospital.

He looks like Tony Stark, that Ironman guy from Marvel.

Anyway, he got the JL’s top secret broadcast code from a device on Hawkman’s uniform.

Yeah. Hawkman. Remember how he was attacked by a giant scorpion last issue? Well, he’s in the hospital with an acute case of too much scorpion venom in him. And Dr. Toby Stark fears he may not last the night.

Hawkgirl is understandably upset and wants to rush to his side as fast as possible. And since the League has cool teleport booths, that’s... still not that fast because the booths only go to other booths and Cairo Hospital doesn’t have a booth.

She also asks Wonder Woman to go with her.

Superman wonders if Hawkgirl is maybe too emotionally torn up to go see her scorpion’d hawkguy.

Zatanna: “I won’t stop her, Superman. Will you?”

WHILE GIVING AN EXPRESSION THATS LIKE ‘please do not drag me into drama.’

Reena tries to commiserate with Hawkgirl but Shayera is having none of that.

Hawkgirl: “Your people did this. If Katar dies -- you killed him!”

Oof.

Zatanna tries to contextualize Hawkgirl’s outburst by explaining that Hawkman and Hawkgirl are just super close but Reena says she understands because she and Rex were that close.

And that despite everything she still loves him and it makes her feel like shit.

Oof.

Wonder Woman and Hawkgirl arrive at Cairo Hospital and Dr. Hamid tells them that Hawkman isn’t the only one who got scorpion’d.

Dr. Hall and his students were attacked by giant scorpion man to rob some archaeological relics they found. Several of the students are in the hospital after being stung and two have already died.

As for Dr. Hall, why he’s just plum gone missing. (Because he’s Hawkman)

From his hospital bed, Hawkman weakly (because of getting scorpion’d) apologizes for the argument they had before he left for Cairo and Hawkgirl claims she doesn’t even remember the fight. Because nothing makes you put aside hurt feelings like possible death by scorpion.

Dr. Hamid tells Wonder Woman that Hawkman is very likely to die unless they can get some giant scorpion man venom to develop into an anti-toxin.

And while they walk by, a random janitor mopping the floor reports the presence of the Justice League members to his ring.

HMMM.

I think that I suspect that this humble janitor is in fact actually a plant for the Rex Squad.

Yup.

Yuuuup.

That janitor was up to no good.

With two Hawks down with sleep gas, its left to the Rex Squad unit leader to handle Wonder Woman.

ITS A HECKIN RHINO MAN!

Of course, a hero as strong as Wonder Woman isn’t going down to a single rhino punch.

It takes a second whole punch to knock her out.

Womp womp.

Rhino Man: “Gas her and shove her in the ‘copter with the others, Mac. The boss wants ‘em all for a little TV show he’s planning. Way I hear, it’s gonna be a ratings smash!”

Rhino puns.

About an hour later, the Justice League subteam nicknamed Sit On Their Thumbs is still in the satellite wondering why Wonder Woman hasn’t called to tell them how Hawkman is doing.

But gosh darn it, if they don’t hear from her in two more minutes in time for the regular hourly check-in, then they’ll just have to do something maybe!

But they get a signal from Hawkgirl’s code and Aquaman main screen turns on... to reveal a big sneering lion man who is not Hawkgirl at all.

Reena: “oh god... he’s found me.”

Maximus Rex, full incoming ham: “Yes, Reena, I’ve found you. When this is done, you’ll suffer the fate of all who betray me. But first, tell your new friends who they face! I am MAXIMUS REX, LEADER OF THE NEW ORDER!”

Firestorm: “Y’know... Somehow, I’d already guessed that.”

Snrrk.

But Maximus Rex warns them not to mock his lionness and has the camera swung over to reveal that he has Wonder Woman and the Hawks as his hostages.

Hawkman is definitely going to die (from being scorpion’d) but Maximus Rex is Magnanimous Rex and instead of immediately killing them, he’s going to turn them into furries too.

Maximus Rex: “I think the Amazon would make a very proper pig, don’t you?”

Man, this guy must have loved the “This Little Piggy” episode of Justice League Unlimited.

Buuuut he won’t turn them into furries and make them fight in his Arena if the Justice League do him some small favors.

First thing, turn Reena over to him.

Second thing, “I want your full cooperation with my plans.”

When Superman tells him ‘obviously no’ Maximus gets mad.

Oh, Maximus the Mad. That’s a catchy name for him.

Maximus Rex: “In the hours to come, you will regret this decision, Justice Leaguers. My new order is the future. You cannot turn the tide of destiny. It will sweep over you... Draw you under... Drown you in the sea of history! Ours will be a struggle to the death -- your death! HA HA HA HA”

He is.

Frothing a little.

And as the mad lion lad continues just belly laughing on this collect call, Superman shakes his fist determinedly.

Superman: “Enjoy it while you have it, Maximus. We’re bringing you down.”

I mean, sure, half of the League is captured or in the hospital already from tangling with these Ani-Men but the League is probably due for an upswing, right?

Or maybe they’ll all get captured and I’ll get to see what the Justice League’s fursonas are.

My guess for Superman is the noble capybara, friend to all.

Follow @justice-league-indispensible or @essential-avengers which is my real liveblog. I’m sorry, this has all been a lie. A jape. A delightful jest. An April Fool. Like and reblog maybe. The more notes this gets the more I go oh no look at what kind of response Justice League gets and I’ve backed the Avengers horse, the April Fool turns out to be me! That’ll show me.

#Justice League of America #Justice League Indispensable #Superman #Wonder Woman #Aquaman #Hawkman #Hawkgirl #Firestorm #Zatanna #Reena the catgirl #Maximus Rex and the Ani Men #indispensable dc liveblogging

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lunarsaga · 4 years ago

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Chapter 6: The Poison Master

Here it is, Chapter 6!

Chapter 7 is in the works, and will be going up on patreon soon! Stay tuned and follow me on Twitter for updates!

Don't forget that this is meant to read like a graphic novel, meaning the art pieces are part of the story and aren't meant to be skipped!

Also trying a new thing! "========" <- Lines like this are scene breaks "// ~ ~ ~ \\" <- and these are perspective changes!

ENJOY, MY LOVES! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

===========================================

“I’m going after Jakotsu.”

It was said with such confidence—the confidence of a man who had not just been struggling to keep himself from getting sliced to pieces by an undead murderer that kept trying to flirt with him—that Luna just had to wonder if it was really Inuyasha saying it. (It was, of course. She was just being sarcastic.)

“That’s funny, I thought I just heard you say you were going after that psychopath.” Luna said to the half-demon. She idly pulled her hair down from her ponytail and began to weave it into a loose braid.

“I am!” Inuyasha said, indignant. “He couldn’t have gotten far.”

“Yes, but Inuyasha,” Miroku interjected, “aren’t you worried about that poisonous gas?”

“Whaddya mean?”

Thoughtful, Miroku glanced off in the direction where they’d encountered the first of the Band of Seven. The cloud had almost entirely dispersed, but if you looked hard enough, you could still see wisps of the toxic smoke drifting into the sky. “Well, Jakotsu seemed to know something about it.”

“You’re right…” Inuyasha said, “You think it’s another member of the Band of Seven?”

“Could be…” Sango mused, “but didn’t Jakotsu seem to be in danger himself? Why would a member of his own team endanger him?”

“Infighting?” Luna guessed, running her fingers through the tangles in her hair. “They’re ruthless mercenaries, I wouldn’t expect them to be one big bloodthirsty family… Unless…” She tilted her head, trailing off in thought.

“Unless what…?” Kagome asked, looking at her sister in concern.

Luna paused another second, still deep in thought as she began to weave her hair into a loose braid. “I mean… If Jakotsu knows the guy? He probably knew that there was still time to avoid the poison. He did tell Inuyasha to get out of the way, remember.” Only Inuyasha, but still.

Inuyasha turned away from the rest of them, uncrossing his arms. “Whatever the case, I’m not letting him get away. You all stay here, and stay safe.”

“Don’t do anything stupid!” Luna called after him as he ran off.

“You’re one to talk.” Ai snorted, earning her a gentle kick from the Hunter sitting next to her.

Kagome stood from where she’d been rifling through her bag, holding a nearly-empty plastic bottle. “Ah, we’re almost out of water… I think I saw a well on our way over here, I’m gonna go fill this up.”

Luna arched an eyebrow at her sister. “Is going off on your own a good idea when there’s a bunch of killer zombies in the area?”

Kagome sighed, smiling back at her. “I’ll be fine, it’s not far. Shippo, why don’t you come with me?” Shippo grinned and jumped into Kagome’s bike basket as she got it on the road. “You should show Sango your crossbow, Luna.”

“Crossbow?” Sango asked.

“Ah, yes, I’m actually interested in seeing how it works up close,” Miroku said, “I saw you use it on Jakotsu, it was impressive.”

Luna smiled and shook her head. “Alright, be safe, Kagome.” She hoisted up the crossbow to show her friends how the arms unfolded, getting a little chuckle out of it when the two of them jumped.

“It does that all on its own?” Sango asked as Luna handed it over to her. She was unsure where to hold it for a second, but Luna showed her how.

“Yep, they’re spring-loaded, so they just pop out,” Luna explained.

Luna went on to answer all sorts of questions about it, and while Sango and Miroku (and even Kilala) seemed interested in the strange contraption, Ai had heard it all before, when Luna had first returned to this world with it. She stretched herself out, her tail fluffing itself out as she curled up against a warm rock. Mmm… warm… Her eyelids began to droop as she got comfortable there; it had been such an exhausting day already…

But as she was about to drift off, she took a deep breath, and a rancid smell hit her nose. She jolted upright with a disgusted hiss, trying to find where the smell was coming from.

“Ai?” Luna asked, “What’s up?”

Kilala seemed to pick up on the scent too—something foul was drifting in the air. The elder cat demon transformed into her full form, and Ai stood, hair bristling.

“Something doesn’t smell right.”

Luna picked up on the tension right away, and her thoughts immediately went to her sister. “God damnit, Kagome...” She hissed, going to her backpack and rifling through it.

“Kagome’s in trouble?” Miroku stood, worried.

“The smell’s coming from the same direction she went,” Ai said.

“And the smell could be that person with the poison,” Sango had already grabbed Hiraikotsu and was putting on her Slayer’s mask. “We don’t wanna take any chances—it’s too bad I only have one of these…”

“No worries, I’ve got these. Here, Miroku.” Luna pulled a medical mask out of her kit to hand it to her friend. “It won’t do much, but it’ll at least keep you from inhaling anything.”

“Thank you, Luna—what about you?”

Luna held up something from her bag: her own mask. It was a military-grade gas mask with a clear face shield, modified to fit a Hunter’s needs. “This one’s mine. It’s made specifically for Hunters like me,” She said as she slipped it over her head. She was well aware that to the locals she might look like a demon, but fuck if she cared; her sister was in danger. The first thing in hand was her crossbow, and she grabbed her ammo bag as she was taking off running.

As it turned out, they were right to call the masks, but Luna certainly didn’t expect to find an entire village choked with poison like a deadly mist. It was barely past lunchtime, and they’d already seen so much death—it was disheartening to see bodies strewn everywhere. But through the mist, they could see Shippo rolling on the ground and coughing, Kagome crouched on her hands and knees, and some weird little figure looming over her. (Well, maybe looming was a strong word. The guy was like three feet tall.)

Sango didn’t hesitate to swing Hiraikotsu; the first swing shattered the poison bottle in the creep’s hand.

“Stay back!” Shouted the little toad of a man.

“Like hell I will,” Luna snarled, aiming her crossbow at the poison master. “Step away from my sister. Now.”

Shippo was finally able to scramble to his feet, and, unsure of what else to do, proclaimed: “I’ll go get Inuyasha!” and took off running.

“Ai, go with him!” Luna said to her friend. The Bakeneko hesitated a moment, worried, but then shifted into her full form and took off after the young fox demon.

“He had to be the one behind the smoke,” Miroku said, of the poison master, “Which means he must be another member of the Band of Seven!”

The laugh that exited the little man made Luna want to vomit. “Yes! I am Mukotsu, Poison Master!”

“Then tell me, Mukotsu, someone must have resurrected you all,” Miroku continued. “Is Naraku behind all this?”

“Hehehehehe, couldn’t tell you! You’ll have to ask the Captain…” He trailed off, reaching back into the little box he was carrying on his back and quickly retrieving another bottle of poison. “Should you survive, that is!”

Luna wasn’t about to give him another second to unplug the bottle. She tried to step toward her sister again, but she only got to fire once before her vision was blocked by powerful black smoke that ejected towards them. Kilala—completely unaffected by the poison, it seemed—jumped in front of Luna to block the bulk of it.

“NO!” Luna shouted, trying to see around the giant Nekomata, “Kagome!”

Luna felt the crushing weight of helplessness almost immediately. That was her sister, helpless and about to pass out, and she couldn’t help. She couldn’t see, couldn’t move, couldn’t do… anything.

It was less than a minute until the smoke cleared, but it felt like an eternity. When she could see again, it only confirmed what she already knew: her sister had been taken. She knew her mask would’ve filtered out whatever the poison was made of, but her legs were still shaking. Not with pain, not with shock… but with pure, unbridled anger. Her lungs could only draw in sharp, furious breaths.

Lock it up, she told herself. She focused the energy buzzing around in her head on keeping herself contained—as best she could. Her face was solid as stone, and she snapped into work mode. She needed to make sure Sango and Miroku were okay—she could just see them again through the dissipating smoke. She looked them both over quickly, trying to make sure they hadn’t been affected.

“We’re alright, are you okay?” Sango asked her, “Where’s Kagome?”

“Gone.” Luna said flatly. “Let’s move. That little freak couldn’t have taken her far.”

“We should go back to where we were first,” Miroku suggested. “I have a feeling we are going to need the rest of both of your supplies.”

==============================================

When Kagome regained consciousness, she was in a completely different place. Her vision was still blurry—all she could make out was a wooden floor beneath her, and a hearth a few feet away. She tried to reach up to rub her eyes, but her arm wouldn’t move. She blinked, but her eyelids were so heavy. That was the only movement she could manage, and it was like trying to lift blocks of concrete.

My body… I can’t move…! She could feel her heart pounding in terror. She was trapped, in the worst way possible.

That guy—the “Poison Master” guy—he was a member of the Band of Seven. He’d done something… She could hear him, a few feet away from her, cackling in a way that made her stomach turn.

“We’re surrounded by a barrier of poisonous gas,” He uttered as he moved closer to her, “no one can disturb us!”

If she could move her face, she would have winced in disgust. This guy was creepy to the extreme—she knew in the back of her mind that if Luna were here, she would’ve kicked the absolute crap out of him. Kagome wanted to, too, but…

The Poison Master—Mukotsu, that’s what his name was, wasn’t it?—he kept chuckling as he grabbed Kagome’s chin. “Such a rare beauty—I’m so fortunate getting married to such a pretty girl~”

MARRIED? Kagome felt sick.

“You see, believe it or not,” Mukotsu reached up to remove the cloth mask covering most of his face, “there are some that find me unattractive.”

And no wonder, she thought as she was able to take in his full visage. He looks like a toad!

Kagome had no option but to physically abide by the “bridal preparations”; she felt like a ragdoll. It was humiliating. Surely her friends were coming—lord knows Luna would tear the countryside apart just by herself to find her, and if Shippo went to get Inuyasha? Kagome knew she was going to be okay, eventually, but she wasn’t about to just sit here and let this creep treat her like an object.

I have to find a way out of here, she thought, resolute. But how…?

She couldn’t move her head more than a little, but as Mukotsu was trying to dance her around for a “Marriage Ceremony” (gross), she caught sight of something glinting in his neck.

That has to be a Jewel Shard! If I can just get it somehow… Now she had to figure out how she was going to do that. Thankfully, the Universe provides. Mukotsu returned her to the floor after their “marriage dance”, this time directly facing the hearth, and she saw her opportunity: sticking upright out of the ashes was the fire poker. Now if I can just grab it...

Then, like a miracle, help finally arrived. “Arrived”, meaning “crashed through the roof”, but her friends and her sister arrived all the same.

“Kagome!” She heard Sango’s voice first, right next to her. Her friend helped her roll over, and from there Kagome could see her sister and Miroku: Luna had her crossbow ready to fire, pointed at Mukotsu—and she had on this odd-looking mask. Something from her arsenal, no doubt.

“Kagome, are you alright?!” That was Miroku.

There was a click as Luna drew back the crossbow’s string, ready to fire. “Get the fuck away from my sister.” Her voice was gravely steady—she almost didn’t sound like herself.

“How dare you interrupt our wedding ceremony!” Mukotsu grabbed one of his poison jars.

“Oh, so you wanna die, then!” Luna snarled.

Sango stood, quickly drawing her katana and brandishing Hiraikotsu like a shield. “Luna, leave him to me! Get Kagome away!”

No time to argue. Luna growled and stooped to grab her sister, just as Mukotsu unleashed the contents of the jar. Kagome watched Sango and Miroku stagger back, before Luna rolled her out of the way.

As the poison billowed around the room, Kagome felt her fingers regain some motor control. As her sister pulled up the hood of her flannel shirt to try to shield them from the cloud, Kagome managed to tug on it.

“The Shard…” Kagome managed to utter. “In… his neck…”

She saw the realization in Luna’s face, and the older girl nodded. “Got it, aim for the throat. Try to hold your breath, sis, I’ll have everyone out of here in a sec.”

“Those masks of yours won’t help!” Gloated the Poison Master, “This poison enters through the eyes and skin!”

“God damnit!” Kagome could only watch as her sister swore and staggered. Sango and Miroku had already fallen to the floor, and Luna was clearly not going to last much longer, either.

I have to help! Steeling her resolve, Kagome forced her hands to move. Come on, body… move! She pushed herself up just enough to grab the poker from the fireplace.

// ~ ~ ~ \\

Luna refused to crumble. She stood between her sister and Mukotsu, stumbling and shaking but still able to raise her crossbow. But with her arms getting weaker by the second, aiming steadily was getting pretty damn hard. Still, if she could just hit the bastard…

She was only able to let off one bolt, and the force of it sent her staggering backwards, until she stumbled into the wall and hit the floor. She felt sick; she doubled over onto her hands and knees, her vision drifting between blurry and straight up red. She was not going to be defeated by this lowlife.

You keep fighting, kid. No matter what happens, you keep fighting.

The voice echoed in the back of her mind, a voice she knew all too well. Her arms couldn’t hold her up anymore, but as she watched Mukotsu get closer to her sister again, she pushed herself away from the wall. Tears in her eyes, she struggled a few feet across the floor on her stomach to grab her crossbow again. She saw her sister, finally getting her strength back, stab the motherfucker in the throat. She wanted to cheer for her, but that would have to wait.

Mukotsu smacked Kagome back to the floor, which only fueled Luna’s rage. Her crossbow was ready to fire—but damn, she couldn’t see through the cloud of poison! It was starting to fog up the face shield on her mask, making it even harder to aim. But with the fucking creep trying to choke her baby sister out, she had to fight.

Dammit!

Luna took a deep breath, ripped the mask off, and got in position to aim—which was a tall order. Everything was fuzzy and she was mere seconds from passing out. She saw the light of the jewel shard (was that what that weird glow was?) and aimed for it. She only had one shot, it had to be enough. She hoped it would be enough. She let the bolt loose… and heard Mukotsu cry out.

She could barely see, barely breathe, barely move—but… wait… that glow wasn’t the Jewel Shard after all, was it? This glow was a sickly sort of green. And there was a lot of white behind it. Was she… was she seeing things? Was that….

“Kags…” Her voice was weak as she tried to crawl toward her.

“Luna…!” Kagome was still just as weak, but managed to shift toward her sister.

“Tell me, is Inuyasha here?”

Kagome turned back toward the powerful demon who stood over them, completely unaffected by the cloud of poison. Luna followed her gaze, and for a second she thought she was hallucinating; she could’ve sworn, even in her delirium, that she saw the bolt she fired buried deep in Sesshomaru’s shoulder. The end of it was letting off little sparks of purple light that quickly faded—but Luna’s vision was finally going out. She could hear her sister calling her name one more time before she fully passed out and crumpled to the wood floor.

#fanfic #inuyasha fanart #inuyasha #inuyasha oc #the lunar saga #inuyasha au #my ocs #fanart #my art #oc #inuyasha fanfic #sesshomaru #kagome higurashi #sango #miro #shippo

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spookyold-saintjm · 5 years ago

Text

Promises

Mandalorian x female reader

Part 16 of the Pilot series [Masterlist]

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: language, mentions of sex & sexual situations (non-explicit), canon-typical violence/death, angst. Din might break your heart in this one and I’m apologizing in advance.

a/n: Hope everyone is doing as well as you can right now! Some of you might have seen a post on uh...how this one was originally going to start BUT I had a different string of ideas so we’ll hold off on THAT for another time ;) Anyway, this one is pretty damn sad ngl. I will try to make it up with something soft next chapter.

Also, @magichandthing (who seems lovely!) made this amazing and beautifully SAD art that showed up on my dash while I was writing this chapter and it was just...too on point, so I feel like it was a sign to share it. Love you all so much! x

—

Din had offered his bed to you in the past, more than once, knowing you’d be more comfortable there. Through quiet, staggered insistence, he’d claimed that he didn’t sleep much, anyways. The bunk in his quarters was, admittedly, not much better than the cot where you typically rested your head, but it was a bit bigger and at least had an actual layer of intended comfort instead of simply a flat surface extended from the wall of the Crest.

You’d always refused out of respect for allowing him a true space of secluded privacy with the small confines of the ship, a space you never intruded upon. After a while he had stopped asking, seemingly resigned to your stubbornness on the matter.

However, if the offer had meant he would be joining you, your bodies bare and flush against each other in a hazy tangle of limbs, with the sounds of months of pent-up emotion and longing emerging and echoing off the walls for far longer than perhaps either of you had intended…you might have agreed a bit sooner.

Despite this, you’d still meant to silently retreat back to your bunk once you were both were wholly spent and your eyes fought to stay open in the darkness. That was how this sort of thing had always worked before…not that anything had ever been even remotely comparable to this.

But Din, although he hadn’t moved for some time, had pulled you back onto him in one swift, sudden motion as you were halfway standing.

“Don’t,” he mumbled, contented exhaustion somewhere between the realm of sleep and waking layering over his deep voice against your ear.

You’d been taken aback at first by his request, momentarily frozen in place, but a calm warmth spread through you as you found yourself folding into him. It was the last word spoken before you both fell victim to the beckoning slumber.

A few hours later, you awoke to the sound of life elsewhere in the ship: a low voice between some occasional soft thuds and clinks, and perhaps a faint squealing sound that had you reaching out an arm beside you.

“Din?” You asked through the hoarse voice of someone fresh to the day. You kept your eyes closed as you turned and felt for him, but you found the opposite side of the bed, his bed, cool and empty. “The kid…”

You called his name out again, waiting for a response before you were so much as tempted to open your eyes. When you were still greeted with only silence, you rubbed at your eyes before finally blinking them open, squinting at the adjustment of the dim light in the room.

It was…strange to wake up here. Especially with Din nowhere in sight. You hadn’t expected to lazily wake to a soft morning wrapped in his arms, by any means, and you understood the level of trust it took for him to leave you by yourself in his space...but you couldn’t help but feel the drop in your stomach at the fact that you were alone. Though you wondered why; this was how this normally went, wasn’t it? Waking up on your own.

No…this didn’t seem like that. Din wasn’t like that. Or, perhaps he was; you’d been fooled by people before. As far as you had seen, outside of his covert, Cara, and Karga out of necessity, he didn’t seem to have any notable relationships with others.

Except for you. Technically he was your employer, you supposed…but that had never seemed right to say. Come to think of it, you’d never considered him as even a friend. He was just always…Mando. Then Din. Someone who’d arrived in your world, who you had spent months of your life with in closer contact than you’d ever spent with anyone for such a length of time, taking jobs and repairing and upgrading the ship and trying to find a way to get a small, peculiar and very much sought-after child back home. Din was someone whose presence felt like it was meant to just exist alongside your own.

It was a dangerous thought. And the idea of it continued to chip away at the walls you’d tried so hard to keep held up inside your chest, its persistence only growing with every passing time that you caught each other’s pondering, longing stares.

You felt your skin prickling with the distinctive sense that someone was watching you, and turned to see Din standing in the doorway, fully dressed in Mandalorian armor.

Minus his cape, which was draped over your otherwise bare body. The texture of it between your fingers gave you pause as you made the silent discovery; he must have covered you with it at some point in the night, as the thin sheet over his bad was instead carelessly bunched up halfway under you.

“Hi,” you said simply as you propped yourself up on an elbow, not knowing what else to say as his gaze then gripped yours, your skin suddenly warm as he looked back at you.

Din felt as if he were pinned in place. “Hey.”

You blinked softly back up at him, and it suddenly struck him that he’d been staring. Because you were…there. Like that.

He started to turn away. “I should—”

“No.” You stopped him, but you cursed yourself at the extra hint of urgency tacked onto your voice. Din must have noticed it too, because his head was cocked ever so slightly to one side when he glanced back in your direction.

“It’s okay,” you quickly added to clarify. You stretched your legs out along the bunk as you rose into a seated position, taking his cape up along with you and holding it with one arm across your chest. “What is it?”

Din’s turned back to face you, taking a few steps further into the room. You swung your legs around so that they were draped off the side of the bunk by the time he stood closer to you.

His shoulders visibly tensed, “Are you...” A rare hesitation wrapped itself tight around his voice, his words sticking in his throat as the air circulating through his helmet grew impossibly hot. “Did—did I…?”

You shook your head and answered before he could finish, with a gentle smile in mercy to his pained attempt to ask you if were okay. So he, too, wasn’t used to people who stayed. Who wanted him to stay. “I’m fine.”

Although when you’d sat up, you’d definitely felt the pressure of light bruises kneaded into your hips, and Maker only knew what attempting to walk would be like. But those were details you chose to kept silent.

Din nodded once, the action appearing almost too formal. A beat of silence passed between you, another moment’s hesitation as he fought to shift his thoughts from being flooded over with how you looked in that moment: hair untamed, a softly glowing face and slightly tired but calm eyes that blinked back at him with a quiet patience as you waited for him to say whatever he’d originally come into the room to tell you.

“Cara agreed to take the child today,” he stated.

You you turned your head back to one side, slightly narrowing your eyebrows at him. “Why?”

“…I don’t think it’s a good idea to take him with us.”

“Take him wh—oh.” You fell silent when you realized what he meant.

He wanted you to come with him, then. To the covert’s hiding place. Well, where it had been. He’d said the night before that he wanted to see it one last time…and now he wanted you with him.

You breathed out a small sigh as you studied him while he stood across the room from you, hands at his sides, knowing he wasn’t entirely meeting your eyes in that moment.

“Are you sure?” You asked.

Din slowly tipped his head. “Only if you want to.”

You swallowed, your voice tight when you answered him. “Of course.”

Before either of you could say more, the sound of a loud clang followed by a series of quick, shrill chirps met your ears. You quickly stood, pulling Din’s cape tighter around you and took a few instinctive steps toward the door as another crashing sound echoed through the ship.

Din sighed, his head turned toward the direction of all the noise. “I guess he’s finished eating.”

You smiled then at the tired fondness in his tone; the thought of the child seemed to make the space around you both pleasantly warm.

A final, lingering glance passed between you, and that warmth threatened to transform into a dull heat just before Din was suddenly off investigate what the child had gotten into.

You stood looking through the doorway until he was out of sight, and a moment longer after that, biting on your bottom lip as you attempted to sift through the thoughts running through nearly every direction in your mind.

The way Din had made an effort not to get too close to you, how he had seemingly avoided your eyes when he spoke…it was a deliberate distance, a blinding contrast to how things had been just hours before, when you’d both practically begged to be as close to each other as possible under the cover of darkness.

Things were different in the daylight. They always were. But you were no longer certain whether to be thankful for it or dispirited by it.

—

After you’d gotten ready for the day, you idly worked on a small project at the space in the corner of the lower deck you’d long ago set aside to stash materials and parts for repairs and upgrades for the Crest. Despite the fact that the child had already eaten breakfast, his ever-growing appetite meant he was still hungry, and you were splitting with him the last of a container of fresh berries, originally meant just for you, as you worked. He reached to curiously pick up a spare part that rested by your knee, but you were quick to snatch it away.

“No way, sticky-hands,” you said, not taking your eyes off your work. The child just giggled, probably because he knew you were right; he couldn’t resist squishing what seemed like nearly every other berry between his hands before eating whatever remained off his tiny claws.

However, when his giggling shifted into a low hum, a sound that typically meant he wanted your attention for something more important, you were quick to shift away from the parts rested in your lap to look down at him as he sat at your side.

You met his eyes. Yes?

He slowly turned his head, looking over toward the closed hatch of the ship. Where Din had disappeared out of a short while before. When he looked back to you, he blinked once, twice, his head tilted to one side. A question.

Din hadn’t said much of anything to you since you’d first spoken that morning, and while it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him to be so quiet, you couldn’t help but wish he would just say something. The lines between you were blurred now, a looming uncertainty over what all that had happened the night before even meant, if anything.

How the hell the child had at least some hint of something being amiss between you, you had no idea. You never understood how he always seemed to know much more than you would have expected. But your unique way of communication with each other had taken a sudden turn in that exact direction.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You replied with a short shake of your head. You turned back to your work, not sure if you wanted to see what his eyes would tell you. But you could hear it, could feel it when he tried to press further. And that might have been worse, because the question he asked was weighted with far more than you’d thought the child might have even been capable of understanding.

“I—I think he’s...great.” You answered, trying to keep your voice level and the warmth away from your cheeks. “I still like being here.” Understatements, almost to the point of lies.

The child made a couple quiet chirps, commanding your eyes on him again. His ears flicked up, then down again as his lips pursed slightly out at you. It was enough to make you chuckle under your breath as you reached to scratch the top of his fuzzy head.

“Yes. I still like you too, you nosy thing,” you sighed, moving then to pet behind one of his long ears before you teasingly, lightly pinched its pointed tip. “I know you're going to use this against me later somehow.”

The child’s toothy grin and squinted eyes back at you was a horrible attempt of displaying innocence, and it made you roll your eyes in the midst of your quiet laughter.

Din returned a short while later, following behind Cara after letting her inside the ship. She took a moment to walk around, making small nods of approval as she took in the changes that had occurred since she’d last been inside.

“Gotta hand it to you,” she looked over to where you still sat in the floor, now cleaning the sticky blues and purples of berry juice off the child’s face and hands, “You’ve got this place looking pretty damn good.”

A smile twitched on the corner of your lips as you shrugged in teasing dismissal. “It’s my job, y’know?”

You could feel Din’s eyes on you, now standing behind Cara. You glanced over to him, your smile remaining as a form of silent greeting. He didn’t budge.

Instead, he simply watched as the child fidgeted in your arms, until you finally finished wiping him down and set him loose. He immediately toddled toward Cara, babbling up at her until she eventually sighed and bent down to pick him up. She kept him a few inches away from her body at first, holding him out as he continued to coo at her, until finally he reached out to grab at the long side of her hair and she had no choice but to tuck him into her opposite site, clearly holding back a laugh.

But Din was far more focused on you, this time. He hadn’t wanted to look away from you at all, hadn’t wanted to leave what he’d woken up to. But he’d realized that morning that the very thing you’d both confessed to wanting, had acted on the night before…it left too thin of a barrier between you. It was something he didn’t know how to navigate. Because it hadn’t been just anyone. It had been you.

You weren’t someone who just…left. Or someone who would transform him into a dark shadow of himself that he didn’t recognize, only then to leave him behind. He’d faced that before, and that wasn’t you. He wanted to believe that. Did believe it, didn’t care if it was against his better judgement.

He never dared to show fear, but he was afraid. Afraid of what crossing the barrier that still lingered between you would mean, because he couldn’t keep his promise to protect you if it disappeared. The same as how he couldn’t claim the child as entirely as his own, at least not until he knew for sure that there was nowhere else better, safer in the galaxy for him to go.

Because the people closest to him were always the first to lose their lives.

And allowing that to happen would be the absolute last thing he would ever do.

—

The heat of the early afternoon had made the tunnels hot and layered with a touch of humidity that hit you almost instantly as you entered and followed behind Din down the curving staircase, Cara and the child left behind at her home just outside of town.

Din stopped after dropping from the final step, and the soft thud of your boots made a small echo as you stepped down beside him.

The tunnels were an intricate maze, the long halls and curving turns for the most part appearing to look near identical to one another as you’d learned the first time you’d been inside them, after Moff Gideon’s attack.

Yet you knew Din had the layout memorized, was perhaps running through it in his head as he decided where to go first. When he moved, you followed a step behind, silence looming in the space between you as he led the way.

The last time Din had been here, he was injured, lightheaded and weak from what had so far been his closest encounter with death. He’d pleaded with Cara, with Karga and the droid and with you, to leave him behind. To let him go.

Yet, he was still here.

As he looked around the dull, empty halls, hardly a sign of the life that once existed among them, a near-silent but persistent voice digging into the back of his mind wanted to ask him why.

And, as always, he was quick to push it back.

Din was unreadable as you followed behind him, like whatever door had been opened just enough for you to feel even a hint of his emotions the night before had been completely shut and locked tight. He said nothing, didn’t so much as look back in your direction as you, too, surveyed the scene around you.

The occasional few belongings, blasters, scraps of metal, bags, capes, even a few books lingered in scattered places along the way, into small rooms and side-tunnels. Some spaces Din walked by with only a glance and others his steps slowed, lingering but never completely stopping. You had questions, of course. Plenty of them. But you would wait for Din to explain, if he decided to.

You hadn’t been paying much attention the last time you’d been there, focused on little else beyond getting out and getting to safety. But now you had an opportunity to truly look around at what had for quite some time been Din’s home, at least as far as you understood it. You had gathered that perhaps he wasn’t there too terribly often, as he was often away on various jobs, but regardless it was the place he always came back to. It struck you then, the trust Din had in you to bring you here, to show you something so intimate and quietly, deeply tucked tight into his heart. This had been his one true and hidden safe space in the midst of an unforgiving galaxy.

But now, it was only a shell of a life, of many lives, that had once existed there. The entire place felt hollow. Haunted. Just how the Empire had always left everywhere and everything they touched.

The thought made your chest ache.

Eventually you reached a sharp curve at the end of the hall, and Din paused for the first time since you’d begun your venture below. He stared straight ahead, and you could just barely see the rise and fall of his chest as his breaths seemed to grow longer, heavier. Whatever was around the corner must have been something he felt the need to prepare himself for.

You reached for him slowly, turning in toward him and laying a hand lightly against his arm. You didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to fill the space with your voice in a place where it didn’t belong.

He looked down at you, a silent expression of appreciation at your gesture, before he began to walk again. You dropped your hand and followed him at his side, around the corner and into an open, circular room.

There were a few steps leading down into the rooms entrance, thus making the ceiling higher in the wide space. Lining the edge of the room were carefully spaced standing torches. A symbol that you immediately recognized was the same one that the child now wore around his neck on a string tucked beneath his robes was, though very much faded, painted in white in the center of the space. Otherwise, like everywhere else, the room was dim and mostly bare. It was clear that this was a place that had been designated for something special, something important to the people who had lived here, and you chose to remain at the foot of the steps as Din moved further inside.

It was the only room that displayed a blatant evidence of the covert's presence in the maze beneath the town, a room that taught and commanded the utmost respect for Mandalorian culture. It was the space devoted to foundlings—their education, their eventual acceptance and integration into the covert, into the Creed...and the training that followed. It was a place of ceremony, of blood, sweat, and tears, of hardship and pride. And one that Din might have found himself venturing into more often than he realized when he would return from his various jobs throughout the system.

The girl’s face brightened, even through her tears, as she saw Din standing at the foot of the steps. He’d heard a strange noise echoing from the space, though it should have been empty at that time of day, and had gone to investigate. The young girl had been crouched on the ground, knees tucked in tight as soft sobs tumbled from her chest.

She stood and practically sprinted over to Din, her tears flowing freely again.

He had come to recognize each one of the foundlings individually, as everyone in the covert was highly encouraged to do so, although he knew none of their names. It was a closeness he did not afford himself with them. With much anyone, really.

Din had crouched down to her level before she reached him, her green eyes blurred with pink from crying, and dark brown hair falling out of the tiny, yet messy knot atop her head. She couldn’t bring herself meet his stare through the visor, and instead kept her head down and focused on an insignificant spot on the ground.

For some reason wholly unknown to him, the foundlings adored him. They were always practically nipping at his heels when he returned to the covert, asking various questions about his most recent job or his life, or floating off into stories of things they had accomplished while he had been away. Maybe it was because he was one who they all knew as one who worked so hard to provide for them, maybe it was because they knew they could fluster him fairly easily because he didn’t know how to deal with them and they loved to give him a hard time every now and then. Or maybe, it was because he listened far more than he spoke, and they knew they could tell him whatever they wanted or needed to say.

So, as always, Din waited for the foundling girl to speak first.

“I cannot do it,” she mumbled, her voice thick with the accent of her people from whom she had been raised the first few years of her life before she’d ended up with the covert not too long before that afternoon. “Everyone is better than me. I lost every round today.”

Din waited a moment, to see if she would say more, and simultaneously tried to quickly sort his thoughts into something that might help. Crying wasn’t something he dealt with particularly well.

He noticed a row of small, fresh scrapes against the girl’s knuckles as she rubbed her hands together, and when she had failed to say anything else, Din gently gestured to them. “Looks like you tried really hard.”

The girl’s nods were quick as she subconsciously reached to rub at her knees. “Yes. But I fell. A lot.”

He paused to consider her words. “Did you get back up?”

Another sniffle and a wipe across her nose with an arm. “Uh-huh.”

“Then you can keep trying.”

He never knew if the words he spoke to them would ever really mean anything, but the girl finally looked up to him, her puffy eyes softening in what seemed to be understanding as she nodded again and began to wipe her tears with the backs of her hands.

Din gave her a firm, but assuring nod.

“This is the Way.” He said to her, both as an encouragement and what he hoped would be a dismissal once he was standing again.

The girl straightened, setting her shoulders back as she returned his nod. “This is the Way.”

Before Din could even process what was happening, the girl had wrapped her arms tight for around his leg in a flash of a moment, then pulled away before running off behind him to presumably reunite with the other foundlings he’d seen rushing through the adjacent tunnel just a few minutes before.

He sighed when he turned around and saw that, as had happened many times before, the small ribbon of fabric holding up her hair had fallen loose from her head and fluttered to the ground.

A ribbon that he was staring at now, as it brushed against the tip of his boot near the center of the room.

The foundlings.

Oh, gods. The foundlings.

Din dropped to his knees.

The clang of the beskar and various gear he wore on his legs sharply echoed through the chamber. You were paralyzed at first, scanning over him from where you stood with his back to you for any sign that he was somehow hurt.

Then you saw it; the subtle upward jerk that traveled through his back and up to his slouched shoulders.

A silent sob.

You went to him then, dropping down onto your knees next to him without a second thought.

Aside from the brief moments of panic he’d displayed just before you’d escaped down into these tunnels months before, you had never seen Din show any sign of strong emotion beyond his occasional temper toward a bounty. Not joy, definitely not sadness. You weren’t even sure if he had the capacity for it.

Yet here he was, his hands curled into fists as they rested on this thighs, his head tilted down deep. You could just barely hear the trembling in his breath as he sucked in a gasp of air, and the short, tight huff that followed.

You remained silent, though you couldn’t resist the overwhelming need to reach for him, to take one of his hands, softly holding the tight clench of his fingers between both of your palms. You felt his fist tighten beneath your touch. Although you knew that maybe you should have waited, should have allowed him to let out his pain alone…the pull that came from somewhere deep inside you, furiously drawing you to him, had been far too great for you to ignore.

He breathed in deep again, his exhale shaky. You looked to him as he finally spoke.

“They’re gone.”

His voice sucked the air from your own lungs; you’d never heard anything so broken.

In that moment, Din was truly processing all of this for the first time. You imagined that the sight of beskar armor and helmets carelessly heaped in a pile on your journey here before would have been enough to cut deep in him, and while you were certain it had…Din was very much the type to lock things away. To let his emotions have a brief, silent moment and then immediately store them somewhere else. The thought of the loss of his covert had to have crossed his mind, time and time again during your travels, but his strict discipline kept any semblance of mourning over it at bay. It was now that the dam had finally broken, that the full weight of the loss crashed down around him, leaving you helpless to watch and wait for its end alongside him.

You wouldn’t tell him it was okay. Because it wasn’t. You knew better than most anyone else that it wasn’t okay, and there was nothing you could do to remedy it except to remain beside him.

The door that he had shut tight within him had flown open, and you could feel the heaviness of the loss, the anger and the sorrow that pulsed in him, around him, your hands over his connecting you to his feelings on an even greater level than you’d ever experienced before. Never, never had you been able to feel anyone’s pain in this way, had never felt anyone else's emotions in this way at all. Your lungs constricted, and against your will tears had formed and settled in your own eyes.

“It’s my fault.” Din’s words broke through in a voice hardly over a whisper. “I did this.”

Guilt. The guilt was what you felt the most, what wrapped itself around him the hardest. You could sense that it had lingered somewhere dark and hidden for a long time, far before the time you had known him, and it only crept out in rare moments such as the night before. But now, now it was free and threatening to eat him alive.

“It’s—” you started, but had to swallow down the tightness in your throat before you could say more. “It’s not your fault, Din.”

Another near-silent gasp. “You don’t—” he breathed out a short, wet sigh. “Every home I’ve had, everyone…they’re all gone. And I couldn’t stop any of it.”

So it was more than the covert. You knew enough of how Din had lost his first home, and his parents; bits and pieces of the story had slowly emerged during quiet moments in hyperspace, at night once the child had fallen asleep while you disassembled and cleaned weapons. You knew that his home as a young foundling has also been attacked and destroyed, which had eventually led to the covert’s home in the tunnels beneath Nevarro, where they had remained safe and hidden for years upon years following.

Until Moff Gideon’s return. Until even this home was taken from Din, too.

“You were a child,” you said softly, slipping one of your hands away from his. You let it hover over his back, considering before you finally settled to gently rest your palm flat against the space just below his shoulder. Din didn’t stiffen, didn’t pull away, but simply allowed your touch to remain. “And this…there’s no way you could have known. None of that is your fault.”

He slowly lifted his head to face you. It was one of fleeting the moments in which you greedily wished you could see his eyes, just for a second. So you could read them, you could meet them without a barrier and speak directly through them all the things that your mouth wouldn’t allow you to say.

Din felt everything and nothing all at once. Anger at himself, not only for letting these things happen, but for letting someone see him in a state like this, weakness that he’d never dared reveal to anyone since he’d sworn the Creed. Sorrow for the realization that, even if some of the covert had by some miracle managed to escape, so many, so many had still been lost. And he had no way of even beginning to find whoever might remain. If they remained. Helplessness, because even though he told himself he’d never, ever let it show that it was something that affected him in even the slightest, he was alone.

But when he finally looked at you…it made things different. Because he wasn’t alone on this course he’d suddenly been set on just a few months before. And the blinding fear that he would be hopeless to stop something from happening to you or the child was threatening to tear him apart right in front of you. What good was a promise that he would protect you both if he wasn’t capable of fulfilling it?

“Talk to me,” you finally whispered, curling your fingers tighter in reassurance over his hand. It was almost desperation, but you needed to hear him say something. Had to capture even a fragment of an idea of what he was thinking.

You caught the slightest shake of his head before he spoke. “You, and the kid, you’re all I…” He took a near-shuddering breath. “If something happens to him, to you…I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.”

The last words gave you pause. You knew that Din would give his life without question for the child if it came down to it. But for him to even think to care about you in such a way that it would hurt him so much to lose you…

It was the very same way you felt about him.

Any other doubts, any words yet to be spoken or anything else between you were either proved wrong or simply didn’t matter in that moment. Not any more.

You moved, turning so that your knees nearly touched, and you could look at him face-to-face. Or at least, as close as you could get to it. You reached for his other hand, encouraging him to separate his fists and instead wrap his fingers around yours.

“I told you before, I’m not going anywhere. I made that choice for myself.” You blinked away the tears that again threaten to blur your vision. “I’m going to see this out with you. We’re going to get him home. And if we don’t…then, it’s like you said. We’ll figure something else out.”

You forced a small smile. “Besides, the credits you owe me for all this work are really starting to stack up.”

Din breathed a huff of a weak laugh, in utter disbelief at you. At what his life had become.

There were more words to be said, questions to be asked. They lingered just beneath the surface and begged to be spoken, to be made real. But it wasn’t the time for them. Not yet.

You sat for a moment, looking to each other in silence. You slowly felt the heaviness of the room lift, until Din breathed out a sigh, no longer struggling for air.

“We should keep going. I want to make sure nothing important was left behind.”

You nodded, relief flooding through you. While the pain you had felt from him didn’t vanish, it seemed to lighten then, to tuck itself away into a space where it could reside a bit more peacefully. You hoped that would remain true.

You were alone in the world, had been for some time. And while you knew deep down that you probably shouldn’t allow yourself to feel it, being with Din and the child had maybe made things a little less lonely. At least for now, taking care of the child and ensuring his safety bound the two of you together. Once that was gone, once Din had fulfilled his duty of reuniting him with his people...not only would you be alone, but so would he.

You silently made a promise to yourself then, too, unbeknownst to the Mandalorian who knelt across from you in that moment. A promise that, whatever it meant when the time came, you wouldn’t let him be alone. You wouldn’t leave him until you knew he wouldn’t have to feel that pain again. Even, if he wanted, that meant that you didn’t leave at all.

Din slowly rose to his feet. You followed behind, one of his hands still wrapped around yours as he helped you from the ground.

And as you made your way out of the room, he didn’t let go.

—

tag list: @nadia-rosea @capsironunderoos @electricprincess888 @smolashie @iwatobiswimbros @backontheolebullshit @100kindsofblake @pandacookieowo @biolo-tea @baby-yodas-cool-aunt @heyitsjaybird @kristalhi @edgy-hufflepuff-bro @dirty-dancefl00r5 @fastidious-and-a-mess @officiallydeceased @sunkissed-winter @crushingonmando @ah-callie @wrinkled-daydream @holamor @din-and-juice @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @goburnurflowercrown @mabelleen @b0n-chann @the-obsession-ship @operation-spot @atletino @immundusspiritu @jellyfishpoptart

#the pilot #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #mandalorian fic #mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader #hope you aren't too sad now #if you have any questions or thoughts or theories let me have em!#also let me know if there's anything you wanna see with these two because i'm always planning new drabbles and such #love you all sm

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kpopfanfictrash · 6 years ago

Text

The Supers and the Not

Member: Jimin (BTS)

Prompt: Okay. The original request was for Cyborg!Jimin, but I made a few tweaks. I’ve been recently intrigued by this Stephen Hawking excerpt, where he warns about the future of designer genetics v. humanity. So.... Jimin is not a cyborg, but a genetically engineered superhuman. AND, GO. (OH, + this dialogue: “Are you warm enough?”)

Rating: PG-13

WC: 3,637

↳ part of my 30K milestone drabble game

The term superhuman has held many meanings throughout history.

In comic books, superhumans are superheroes. They are beings who use their powers for good, who protect society from unnatural adversaries. The term has changed greatly since then. When science grew bolder and human curiosity surged, the word superhuman began to transform. It became a label; one which separated a new category of human from old.

The supers from the not.

Back in the old days, designer babies (as they were called) were edited merely for defects. Scientists easily identified potential genetic diseases like sickle-cell or Huntington’s, sending in nanotech to modify and fix the code. Obviously, there was debate around this and obviously, humans were wary – but the benefits were proven to outweigh the cost.

Scientists did not stop there. No longer did they research disease, but the human psyche itself. As the map of human DNA filled in its corners, their research became riskier, more complicated and far more exciting. Once all human defects were eliminated, what else remained but the good traits?

Good traits – which could become great.

The first superhumans were not called super. Super was a nickname generated by an overenthusiastic media before they grasped what their existence truly meant. The supers were a class of human beings all on their own – able to see further, hear better, run faster. They were taller, more beautiful and far more intelligent. This was the real kicker – humans have survived extinction based on their wit alone. The appearance of supers meant regular humans could no longer compete.

The so-called supers were turned against the not.

You are not super. Your parents could not afford you to be. While many your age were conceived in a tube; their embryos tested, operated on and perfected; you were conceived the old-fashioned way, with a virtual roll of the dice.

Still, you have always done well for yourself. In a world where you were born at a natural disadvantage, you have always managed to survive. Survival is truly the best-case scenario given your circumstances. Always, you have harbored the unique ability to assess a situation, determine its risks and choose the right outcome. Some call it luck, others skill, but you know it for what it truly is – the only option.

Take now, for instance.

Currently you sit in a white, pristine lobby on a white, pristine couch in front of a white, pristine receptionist. She keeps glancing your way, wrinkling her nose as though you have a strange smell. Warily, you shift in your seat and wonder if somehow you do. Maybe her sense of smell is so acute she can pick up on an aroma you cannot.

Or maybe she is only an ass. This option seems more likely to you.

When the door to the waiting room swings open, you look up. A woman holds it ajar with her hip, checking the hologram hovering above her wrist.

“Y/N?” she asks, sounding utterly bored.

“That’s me,” you say, rising to your feet.

Swiftly, she looks your way and wrinkles her nose. “Follow me.”

She turns, the door nearly falling shut behind her. You are forced to run in order to catch it, barely grasping its edge before it closes on your hand. From behind you, the receptionist snickers and, glowering, you step through the door. The hallway beyond it is equally pristine and white.

The assistant is already halfway down the hall.

“So,” you pant, practically jogging to keep up with her stride. “The ad didn’t mention what specifically I would be doing. Do you have an overview?”

For the first time since meeting, the woman smiles. Paused in the middle of the hall, she looks at you as though you are something to be pitied and you repress the urge to slap the look from her face.

“And yet you still answered the ad. Most peculiar.”

Drawing yourself to your full height – which is still several centimeters below hers – you glare. “As though I have a choice,” you say coldly. “There aren’t many jobs left which accept normals.”

“Pity.”

She walks past you, opening a doorway you had not yet noticed. The seams of it blend into the wall, barely even noticeable unless you have super vision. The room beyond seems darker than the hall. Finally, the walls surrounding you are not white – it takes you a second to adjust to the lighting.

“He’s waiting,” the assistant says, as though you are a gigantic waste of her time. Maybe you are.

Walking forward, you hear the door fall shut behind you. The new room is utterly silent, nothing to be heard but the sound of your breathing – and his. Your potential employer stands behind a large desk, as though this were a formal gathering of businessmen, and not a rather sketchy job interview.

Fuck, supers are beautiful.

It is hard not to be dazzled by his outward appearance. A sculpted jawline, bright gaze and sharp nose – standing before him, you feel rather meek in comparison. Before you can speak, the man clears his throat.

“Sit,” he says, waving at the chair opposite. “Please, Y/N, sit. Are you warm enough? Sometimes the temperature of this room is far too cold.”

Of course, he would need confirmation of this. Most supers can sustain greater temperature fluctuations than normals. It is one of their many improvements.

Warily, you take a step closer. “You know my name.”

He smiles politely. “You did fill out an application, you know.”

“I know.” Stiffly, you pull the chair back to sit.

Silence stretches between you, both of you staring and trying not break first. Finally, he speaks.

“How silly of me.” Chuckling good-naturedly, the man ducks his head. “I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Park Jimin, but you may call me Jimin.”

“Most supers prefer to be addressed by their surname.”

Jimin’s smile falters. “Yes, well… Ah. All the same, I prefer to be called Jimin.”

“Alright.” You say this as though it is neither here nor there. “Jimin, it is.”

“Wonderful.” Jimin flicks a hand over his desk. A blue hologram appears. “Down to business, then. You’re probably wondering why my ad was so cryptic.”

Uncaring, you shrug. “Not really.”

“Why not?” Jimin pauses. “That would have been my first question.”

He seems genuinely curious and in response, your gaze narrows. The underlying implication is obvious – you normals do not think things through before acting. Not in the same way they do. Normal thought is somehow ages behind that of the supers.

Gritting your teeth, you lean forward. “The ad didn’t surprise me because, based on prior experience, supers tend to be vague about illegal requests.”

Jimin’s cheeks color. Slowly, he lowers his hand and the blue hologram fades. “I see.” Quickly, he glances at the door you entered from. “You’ve answered this kind of ad often, then.”

“Not a question.”

“No, merely an observation.” His gaze becomes shrewd. “I can see you don’t trust me.”

Not wishing to implicate yourself any further, you remain silent.

Jimin arches a brow. “Well, do you?”

“No,” you say simply. “I do not.”

“I can hardly blame you for that. My kind can be… well, cruel to yours.”

Again, you say nothing. Part of survival is knowing when to hold your tongue. Part of survival is knowing when to play the part of the lower, sub-species and when to let them know you understand.

“I need you to trust me, though,” Jimin says quietly. “I need you to trust me, since I’m going to be very, very honest with you.”

Despite your best interest, his words pique your curiosity. Supers do not often care about honesty.

“It will be difficult to undo years of training,” you note.

Jimin laughs. The noise escapes before he can help it. “Yes,” he muses, leaning back in his chair. “I suppose so. Perhaps it would be good, then to tell you who I am.”

“You’re Park Jimin. You’re a super.”

His eyes are dark brown with flecks of gold at the center. The effect inspires warmness, emotion and you trust absolutely none of it. Everything about this man is designed to draw people in. Idly, you wonder how much his father paid for it.

“True,” Jimin says. “But I am also Park Jimin, of Park Enterprises.” Launching into what can only be assumed to be his Wikipedia biography, he continues, “My father is Park Jiwoo, researcher and entrepreneur. I have no siblings. I am 169 cm tall, which is considered below average for a super and I –”

“Okay, none of that matters to me,” you interrupt, waving your hand. Jimin ceases talking immediately, blinking owlishly and you wonder if this is the first time he has been interrupted. “God,” you groan, slouching low in your seat. “You supers are all the same, aren’t you? Listing facts and figures like that’s all people care about.”

Jimin bristles. “That is what most people care about.”

“Not normals,” you say, softening a tad. “Not humans, really. Tell me something different. Tell me something personal.”

The blue light from his desk makes him seem almost haunted. Likely, the lights in his room are intelligent; designed to reflect his mood and adjust appropriately. You wonder what they glean from him now, since he seems stressed in your gaze. Dark circles shadow his eyes, his grip tense on the table before him. Uneasily, you wonder what a super could have to be worried about.

“I don’t really know what you mean.” His brow puckers. “Do you want my government ID number, or something? That’s personal.”

“God, no,” you choke out, trying hard not to laugh. “If you gave me that, they’d just think I stole it.”

His lips lift in a ghost of a smile. “You’re right, they would.”

“I know I’m right. I want something different. I want to hear about…” Glancing around, you wonder what could possibly make you trust this man. What could possibly make you relate to this super. There are photographs on his desk – a family photo, which is interesting. Looking up, you meet Jimin’s gaze. “Tell me the last time you cried.”

“The last time I… cried?”

“Or, can you not?” Politely, you cross one knee over the other. “Are you supers so far removed from humanity that you no longer feel? Were your tear ducts removed along with your defects?”

“I can still cry,” Jimin mutters, gaze heated.

“Then, prove it. Tell me.”

Slowly, he leans back in his seat. “Last Thursday. 10:12 AM.”

“And what happened to make you cry?”

“I learned information which scared me.”

His honesty catches you off guard. Either Park Jimin is a very good actor, or he is telling the truth. He truly does look fearful, which does not bode well for you. Fearful people tend to make bad decisions – and fearful supers tend to make cataclysmic ones.

“What information?”

Jimin shakes his head slowly. “I can’t tell you that. Not without you trusting me. Not without me trusting you.”

“Then, trust me.”

“You say that like it’s so simple.” Jimin slowly exhales. “Meeting you like this goes against everything I stand for. There are so many things which could go wrong... I have done the probability calculations over and over – twice while we were sitting here – and it is ludicrous to think I might find the solution, when –”

“Jimin.” Quietly, you interrupt.

He pauses before he looks up.

You meet his gaze. “Why am I here?”

Jimin’s expression morphs from stoic to helpless. “Because... you’re normal.”

“And?”

“And,” Jimin says, closing his eyes. “That means you are immune to the problem.”

The way he says problem sends a chill down your spine. He speaks as though he has exhausted every option and this is his last resort – and likely, you are. That is what tends to come from meetings like this.

This is not your first meeting from an unlisted number. This is not your first interaction where a person has disguised their voice while answering the phone. It isn’t your first time meeting someone in an unknown location and receiving details of a task said person needed performed.

You do what you must. You receive payment. You survive.

This seems different, though – Jimin seems different.

With his eyes closed, Jimin looks almost human. You suppose that he is, but not in the same way you are. His skin is flawless, the milk of it dusted with blue veins and dark lashes. When he opens his eyes, you expect the illusion of his beauty to fade. It does not.

“What’s the problem?” you say, pushing these distracting thoughts aside.

“It’s easier… if I show you.” Reluctantly, Jimin reaches out to pull up a hologram. Blue strands of DNA twist before you in mid-air. “There have been many accepted edits of the human genome. Some are more progressive than others. The ampliointelligens procedure, for example, is the most widely known. It is where –”

“A person’s intelligence is increased,” you interrupt, bored. “I know. It’s Latin.”

Jimin quickly covers his surprise. “Of course. Anyways, the procedure was considered the first of the… super procedures. The ones which diverted from genetic correction to genetic improvement. And, as with any new field… there were errors.”

“Errors?”

This fact is news to you – nothing about mistakes was reported to the public, which explains Jimin’s trepidation on the matter. In the entire history of the supers, there has never once been any admittance of error. Their strength is their narrative, after all. The supers deserve their positions, their wealth and their influence because they are better. Because they can foresee things normal humans cannot. All of this fails to be relevant if they are proven to be imperfect.

“The concept of intelligence.” Jimin uses air quotes on the word. “Is hard to understand and even harder to change. Gene editing is simple. Take something like Huntington’s disease – we know the genetic defect which causes it. We can simply screen the DNA, cut out the harmful bit and replace it. That’s an over-simplification of the procedure of course, but – there’s low risk of something going wrong.”

“If you say so.”

“However, with something like intelligence… there’s still debate about which portions of the human genome are the most impactful. There are several accepted versions of the ampliointelligens procedure because of this disagreement.”

Hearing him say this, you blink. Again, this is news not known to the general public and you wonder why Jimin is telling you this – any one of these tidbits would be worth a fortune if the supers have covered them up for so long.

The surprise on your face must be obvious, because Jimin then sighs. “The variables increase with intelligence. There isn’t one DNA strand to consider, but millions. Trillions. Each tweak a surgeon makes has far-reaching repercussions; ones which geneticists admitted were impossible to know definitively at the time. And yet…”

“And yet, people underwent the procedure.”

“People were greedy. They are greedy,” Jimin corrects with a tick to his jaw. “Once a reasonable procedure was created, people wanted it – no matter the cost, no matter the risk. If there was a chance their children could be super, they took it.”

You notice Jimin says the word super with a bitterness usually reserved by your kind. This surprises you, if nothing else. He doesn’t seem to enjoy what he is any more than you do.

“So.” You tap your fingers against your knee. “Back to the problem you mentioned.”

You assume this problem is why you’ve been asked here. There’s something Jimin needs and the sooner he asks it of you, the sooner you can leave. The sooner you can cease sitting before him, becoming oddly charmed by a man you despise.

He nods. “We’ve known about a mutation for years, but it has recently transformed into something insidious. One of the ampliointelligens procedures is the cause of this mutation. The DNA edit takes over, it spirals out of control and overpowers the human ability to empathize. This leads to rash decision-making, high levels of narcissism and the inability to relate to others. It can be… crippling.”

“Narcissistic and unable to relate?” Pressing your lips together, you keep them from twitching. “However will you separate them from the rest of the supers?”

“It isn’t the same,” Jimin says, a bit heated. “Supers can empathize, even if they place less value upon emotion than normals do. Supers still factor in an emotional response.”

“How noble.”

“You don’t understand.” Jimin leans forward. “Those afflicted by the mutation are incapable of decision-making – and what’s worse, they control every major resource in the country. Yes,” he says, spotting the look on your face. “The problem is bigger than just supers versus normals. If this disease spirals out of control, there won’t be a world left to save.”

“Is that what you intend to do?” you ask, unable to help yourself. “Save the world?”

“I intend to try,” Jimin says quietly.

Maybe it’s this that convinces to you how serious this is. Jimin stares, brow furrowed, and you get the idea he doesn’t lie very often. Slowly, you tilt your head and observe him.

“How many?”

His brow furrows. “I’m sorry?”

“How many supers are afflicted?”

Staring at you, Jimin seems to sag in his seat. If he had a glass of alcohol in his hand, you imagine he would drink it.

“About half the existing supers underwent the affected procedure,” he admits. “And it does not seem to be a question of if, but of when.”

“Oh.”

“Take my father, for instance,” Jimin continues, not looking away. “He began to exhibit symptoms last Thursday morning. I, on the other hand, have yet to show any.”

“How…” You pause, licking your lips. “If the procedure is as certain as you say, how does the public not yet know? How has it been kept quiet so far?”

“Those in power have methods of silencing.”

Not wanting to know more than that, you glance away. “I take it you think these methods will not remain effective for much longer?”

“I do not.”

“So, then why am I…” Glancing sharply upwards, understanding dawns. “You want me to be your guinea pig. You want to perform experiments on me because I’m immune. Because I’m normal.”

“Lord, no.” Jimin winces. “At least – not in the manner you speak of. I would like to compare samples of our DNA, yes. I’d like intelligence testing, brain scans – all of that would be on the table, but what I need you for most is observation.”

“Observation. Like, me in a glass room and a strait jacket?”

“It’s the other way around, I’m afraid. I need you to observe me.”

“You?”

“Like I said.” A sliver of desperation seeps into his tone. “I have no idea when my mind won’t be… my own. I’m seeing firsthand how my father has changed. I need someone neutral – someone not prone to the problem themselves – to weigh in.”

“And that person… is me?”

“Based on this meeting, I think so.” Jimin meets your gaze. “Y/N, has your intelligence ever been tested?”

“Are you serious? Intelligence testing is reserved for supers. Surely, you know that. Normals have no need to be tested.”

“And yet,” Jimin says calmly. “Since you entered this room, you’ve corrected me multiple times, synthesized complicated arguments and even translated Latin to English. Whatever you are,” he says, leaning forward. “It is more than what you let on.”

He sounds so self-assured in this statement, you almost believe him. Pushing the idea away, you glance at the door and gather your thoughts. No matter what choice you make, there’s no good way out. You were stuck from the moment you agreed to this meeting. Jimin has revealed too much to you – and yes, information is power, but not the kind that you hold.

Knowing weaknesses about the supers places a target on your back. Slowly, you return to him.

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” you say softly. “If I don’t agree to your terms, you’ll just send people after me when I leave.”

“No. I won’t.”

“Why not? I would, if I were you.”

“Because.” There’s something hard, something unreadable to his gaze. “I really need you to trust me.”

Variables flash through your mind, a fight or flight instinct warring in your bones. Eventually, you ignore all of it and instead, listen to the voice which whispers in the back of your mind.

“Find,” you say slowly. “I’ll do it.”

Jimin sags into his chair. “Thank the fucking gods.” He sighs. “I didn’t really have a Plan B.”

“You didn’t?”

“No,” Jimin says. “I’m afraid this is my final resort.”

“Then, why –”

“I think that’s enough chit-chat for today.” Pushing back his chair, Jimin stands from his desk. Pressing a button on the side, a noise buzzes in the hall. “I think it’s time you reviewed the terms of the contract. One of my assistants will show you to your rooms.”

“Rooms?”

Without thinking, you stand as well.

“Of course,” Jimin shrugs. “You’ll be staying with me for the duration of the work period. Everything is outlined in the contract – which you will have until the end of this week to make amendments to. Will that be that satisfactory?”

“I…” Blinking at him, your mind reels. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Clasping both hands before him, Jimin morphs back into the image of super. Banished is the distressed man you saw briefly but still, he lingers around the edges.

“I look forward to working with you, Y/N,” he says quietly.

The door opens to reveal the tall assistant from earlier. She glances in surprise from you to Jimin, as though she did not expect you to stay.

Seeing her reaction, your smile broadens. “I look forward to working with you, too, Jimin,” you announce, walking towards the door.

It is mainly for the benefit of the assistant, but you cannot help but realize there is some truth to the words. Despite all you have said, that voice still exists deep within you. The one which usually warns you of danger is unusually silent in his presence. This unsettles you for a moment and then you walk past, stepping into the hall.

#bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin drabble #bts drabble #bts scifi au #jimin scifi au

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airquietworks · 5 years ago

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Moving In, Moving On, Moving Up

Summary: For Izuku Midoriya, moving in together with Ochako seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do.

But advancing to the next phase of his life - and saying farewell to everything that came before - was far more heart wrenching and confusing than he imagined.

Thankfully, he has just the right person to give him a lift.

_________________________________________________________

Izuku Midoriya had faced many challenges in his life. He competed at an extraordinarily difficult school, fought deadly villains, and even survived the many humiliations of dating.

But as he stared between the piles of boxes in the back of the truck and the massive, gray, 20-storey apartment building behind him, he knew nothing had prepared him for this.

Moving day, under a scorching summer sun. Quite possibly one of the greatest foes he had ever faced.

“This is really, really…” the energetic voice of his partner in life, love and heroics sounded from behind him. “Really a lot.”

Despite the daunting task, he couldn’t help but smile at Ochako Uraraka’s surly expression. It was strangely adorable, her rosy cheeks puffing out in a small pout.

“It didn’t look like it would be so bad when we were loading this up,” Izuku observed, before staring back up at the place that would be their home. “But now…”

“This is what we get for wanting a view,” she grumbled, stepping forward to grab onto a box. She scrunched her face up before donning a mask of determination, her eyes burning with sudden intensity. “Alright, let’s do it!”

Izuku grinned, her psyched-up energy infectious. “Right!”

With that, the two began the arduous journey of bringing each of their belongings into their apartment at the top floor of the building. Between their two Quirks, they thought better than to spend on movers. It was not the most glamorous home out there, but though they had started earning some money from internships, they wanted to keep things modest.

After a non-eventful elevator ride for their first run, they found themselves in front of their apartment, blocked by a plain, wooden door. Izuku stepped forward, wrestling the key from his pocket while holding a pair of boxes in one arm.

“We’re really here, huh?” Ochako said as he twisted the key, unlocking the door. “Our first day in our new home.”

“Hard to believe it,” he replied, his hand freezing on the door handle. They had already scoped the place out long before this, but stepping into it now seemed far more monumental.

This was his home now. Not his mother’s apartment. Not U.A High School. Those tearful goodbyes were behind him now. This is where he would try to become a real, professional hero.

He suddenly felt a warm hand over his frozen one.

“Together then,” Ochako suggested brightly, spurring him forward.

Izuku nodded, smiling back, snapped from his thoughts. He always appreciated her little pushes when he needed them. “Together.”

They twisted the handle and crossed the threshold to their new lives side-by-side.

Despite some anxiety, Izuku still felt blessed to be moving in with the love of his life. After everything they had endured, he knew it was right to take this step. The thought of getting to be with her was what had given him the strength to make those farewells in the first place.

Besides being on the top floor, their new apartment was humble. A small, open kitchen area overlooked their shared living space, which led out onto a large balcony. A side hall extended out into a basic washroom and two bedrooms. For now, it was an open and empty space, plain as could be. But that would quickly change throughout the day, as the heroes made their mark.

They both stepped forward at the same time, bumping their boxes into one another. Izuku laughed nervously, Ochako joining him after an awkward beat.

“After you,” he suggested, shifting out of the way.

She gave him a smile and a nod before taking a step, the sound ringing around the empty space. “Thanks. Going to be tricky moving stuff in this tight space.”“Yeah. It’s a little small.” Izuku let the word hang in the air. His mind whirred and he suddenly became nervous, wondering if the honest descriptor might offend. “But small is good! It’s cozy. Intimate, even. I love intimate!”

He realized the implications of the phrasing as soon as the rambling words left his mouth. He blushed and sputtered, trying to find something to say to regain his composure. He saw Ochako paused at his words, her cheeks also getting a bit pinker, as she turned to him with raised eyebrows.“Can we just forget I said that?” Izuku pleaded, smashing his face onto the top of his boxes. They were very close, but innuendo usually still tripped them up.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” she responded with a bit too much energy, sprinting forward to deposit her boxes in their future bedroom.

With a relieved sigh, Izuku walked forward, shaking his head, trying to calm his frayed nerves. What exactly was his malfunction? Why was he so tense?

Eager to distract himself and calm down, he stared grimly at the boxes in his hands and put all of his focus towards the task of moving.

It was not a simple process. Although he had super strength and she could make things weightless, the sheer volume of items and furniture to bring in was time-consuming. They frequently bumped awkwardly into one another or other people passing by. The summer heat did not help, and they quickly built up a sweat.

Stopping only for a hearty lunch of parent-made bento boxes (which they both shed a few tears over), they worked throughout the entirety of the day to get their belongings inside. They finally got started on unpacking in the early evening, slowly filling the empty rooms with pieces of themselves.

Izuku found himself pulling out a box of framed photographs in their shared bedroom. He was eager to place them somewhere before anything else; they were such a comfort to him as his school days became more difficult, and he felt he needed them now. The world might be hurtling ever forward, but he could take some solace in the preserved moments of the past.

He pulled out one picture featuring their whole class, gathered outside their dorm, beaming towards the camera, their faces filled with joy. It was a lot sillier than the formal class photograph they had taken earlier that day. This was a keepsake for all of them to remember each other by. He smiled down at the photo, fondly recalling the laughter-filled days living at those dorms, where he found the friendship he sorely missed growing up.

Placing it on a bedside table, he pulled out a completely different image of him and Ochako, pressed together with their faces glowing, dressed up in fancy outfits, wearing identical blushes. U.A. had mixed things up with a formal event in their third year. It was a fun evening, even if he was a bit clumsy when it came to dancing and ended up stepping on Ochako’s feet. Mina had forced them to take a photo together, and though it had felt awkward at the time, he had come to treasure it.

He still wondered how he had been so fortunate to find his relationship with Ochako. After mutual confession in their third year, their romance had been a breathtaking, chaotic whirlwind. Despite all the hardships they had to endure, they had lived to get to the other side of it, hand-in-hand.

The next photo he pulled out surprised him. He did not remember putting it in a frame, but it was certainly a treasured image. All Might, haggard as ever, beaming towards the camera. Embracing him, dressed up in cap and gown, as he held up his diploma proudly in his scarred hands. Tears flowed freely from both their eyes, the happiness of reaching that point overwhelming them, transforming them into blubbering messes.

It had been the last time he had seen his hero, mentor and father figure in person. They had talked it out, hugged and enjoyed their last hours together. Then All Might pushed Izuku out into the world to face it alone.

“You okay, Izuku? Oh, I love that photo!” The picture’s photographer came up behind him, resting her head over his shoulder. “I don’t remember seeing this in your room before.”

Izuku blinked, suddenly realizing his eyes were watering. He let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing a hand across his leaking eyelids. “Mom must have snuck it in.”“Aww, that’s sweet,” Ochako cooed, giving him a quick squeeze from the side before stepping back. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m okay,” Izuku sniffled, shaking his head to dispel the strange feeling of loss rolling around inside him. “Got a lot to unpack.”He noticed Ochako frown for a moment before she stepped away, turning her back to him. “Well, alright, if you say so. I’m going to go grab a drink. It’s way too hot. Let me know if you need a hand with anything in here.”

Izuku felt a sudden surge of affection towards his partner giving him some space. He was normally happy to be open with her, but he could not even process his feelings for himself.

He looked around their room, still empty except for the furniture. Eventually, the walls would be plastered with decoration. But for the first time, he knew his bedroom would not feature the visage of All Might at every corner.

Izuku pulled at his chin, pondering the situation. When he thought about it, it was the first time All Might would not be watching over him - not as a symbol, not as a hero, and not as a mentor.

Now, Deku walked alone, ready to begin carving out his own path as a professional.

He sighed, feeling the overbearing heat Ochako mentioned. Suddenly needing to cool down, he trudged out of the room, leaving the memories stowed away.

Izuku returned to their living area. He noticed Ochako was leaning back against the counter in the kitchen, her eyebrows furrowed, looking deep in contemplation as she idly ran her thumb along her phone’s screen.

Figuring it alright to leave her to her own devices, he headed out toward the balcony, eager to get some fresh air and time to collect his thoughts.

He took a deep breath as he walked outside, immediately leaning against the railing, feeling relieved as the breeze brushed across his forehead. The sight of Tokyo down below had been a big draw for them when they chose to live here. He appreciated the sights of the urban sprawl beneath him, with its bustling streets and impressive buildings. But the sweltering rays of the sun made the city of his destiny far hazier than he had pictured. After everything, he was finally here. A hero turning pro. Out in the world in Japan’s largest city, the centre of the action. The day was bright. The future should be even brighter.

But as he considered all the people below, that anxious, nagging part of his mind chimed in again. Millions were down there, counting on heroes like him. He would have to help them, working harder than he ever had before. This was it. No more time, no more tests, no more room for mistakes. No All Might over his shoulder, his mentor now ready to let him fly under his own strength. Now, he had to try and be the Symbol of Peace on his own. This was the real world. Everything here counted.

The moment engulfed his entire being, his mind getting lost in storming clouds, making it hard to keep calm. He stood on the edge of the world and his destiny. He knew he would need to plunge forward, but taking that step seemed all the more daunting.

“Oh, there you are,” a warm voice said from behind him. “Admiring the view?”

In a heartbeat, the spell ended, and Izuku found himself back in the present moment. He was merely a man standing on a balcony, with company approaching.

He did his best to push his melancholy aside and remain unphased by the intrusion. He knew he needed to just enjoy the present and not get too lost in spiralling thoughts.

“Yeah, definitely. The best part of the place,” Izuku replied quickly, eyes still staring forward as Ochako slid up next to him. He glanced at her, suddenly feeling smitten as he watched how the wind played with the bangs of her hair.

“It is really nice. But it’s still too hot,” she complained, wiping sweat from her brow. “I didn’t think this is what people meant by housewarming.”

Izuku could not help but guffaw at the lame gag which came so suddenly, and she soon joined him. He felt relief, pushing himself fully into the mirth, trying to let it blow the clouds in his mind away. “Well,” he began after a moment. “What did that article about our class say last week? That we were the ‘hottest new heroes around?’”

“We’re a couple of trailblazers, after all,” she replied with a grin, facing him.

“What’s the word they used for you? ‘Hot-blooded?’”

“Well, they called you a ‘blazing meteor.’”

Izuku paused, face scrunching in thought. “Okay, I think I’m out of puns.”

“I wish the writers had been,” Ochako muttered with a laugh, shaking her head and turning back to the gorgeous skyline.

The conversation fell away for a moment and content silence came upon them. Izuku watched her movements, curious, fascinated to see her thinking. She always could find a way to surprise him, and it made her one of his favourite people to study.

“What’s been bothering you today, Izuku?”

The tone in her voice was gentle, but he felt the energy between them shift, the easygoing mirth dissipating as quickly as it came. He groaned, realizing how silly it was to think he could hide anything from her.

“That noticeable, huh?”

“Well, you’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve. It’s not hard to tell.” He sighed, peering out over the edge of the railing to the streets directly below. “I guess it’s just weird, being here, you know? After all that time, all that work, to finally be moving and going pro, it’s just … a lot to take in.”

“I know what you mean,” Ochako nodded. She leaned her cheek into her hand, staring out. “This is really it. Things certainly didn’t happen the way I imagined them.”

“Me too,” Izuku muttered, looking towards the clear sky and picturing his idol. “All Might was always a solitary pillar of hope. I wanted to be just like him. Now, I’ll have to prove I can be.”

Ochako went quiet at that. She buried herself further into her arm, putting more of her weight over the railing. She murmured something unintelligible in her sleeve before poking her head back out.

“Are you…are you worried?”

Izuku frowned at that, his heart rattling in his chest in answer. He nodded. “I want to do everything I can to live up to him. I guess a part of me is still wondering if I can do it. Wondering how well I’ll do now that I won’t be seeing him often.”

From the side of his vision, he saw her head rise, her focus now intently on him.

“Do you want to know what I think?”

It was a simple enough question to answer. “Always.”

“That you’re going to do great tomorrow, Deku, and every day after that. Because you’re you. You’ve got this.”

“Ochako…” he felt his cheeks flush at the unabashed praise. They were never shy about giving that to one another, but he still felt bashful when he was on the receiving end.

“It’s okay that you’re feeling a little nervous now.” She stood up straighter, facing him head-on, a beautiful fire igniting in her eyes. “But I know the second you’re out there and someone needs your help, you’ll act without thinking. That’s just who you are. That’s Deku. Whatever you’re up against, I know you’ll win in the end.”

“I…thank you,” he whispered, his eyes starting to water again under her verbal onslaught. He wished he could convey his appreciation better, somehow.

“You know why I wanted to change that name for you, right?”

Izuku froze at the sudden question. It had been such a meaningful point in his life, but they had not talked much about her inadvertently giving him his hero name. It had helped create a powerful bond between them, that did not require words.

His mind flew back to them as school kids; naive, innocent, full of belief. So much had changed since then, yet Deku remained.

“I gave you that name because I thought you needed it. Because you couldn’t see yourself clearly. You couldn’t see how bright you shone, even back then.”Ochako stroked his cheek, holding him in her palm. He leaned in, his skin tingling at the contact, a pleasant chill making his way down his spine. He watched as her hand wandered down, over his shoulder, his chest and then right over his beating heart. “I’ll be there to remind you of that. Every day we’re here together. Every day of my life, if I have to. That you’re Deku. That you are the world’s greatest hero.” Her smile up at him was positively radiant. “And that you can do it.”

Izuku’s body moved on instinct, hugging her to him as he cried, trying to convey his appreciation with actions after she had taken his breath away. She chuckled beneath him, but melted within the embrace, sighing happily.

He realized despite all the fears that came with great change, he would make it through. Even if he no longer had All Might, his other teachers or the rest of their class with him on a daily basis.

Because he still had a guiding star, brighter than any other in the sky. He would grow and learn from her, as he had since the day they met.

The future was a scary thing. But knowing his hero would be there for him made it seem far less intimidating.

“And, you know, if you wanted to…to be more like All Might, I get it. Maybe we could try and keep some distance out there.”

Izuku’s eyes flew open at her words, his mind utterly befuddled by the shifting rack of the conversation. “What?”

“Well, we don’t have to tell people we’re a couple or we’re living together. We’re not working at the same agencies, either. We could make sure to hide our relationship if it would make you more comfortable. If you still wanted to stand more on your own like All Might, we could-”

“Ochako.” He stopped her by disengaging, holding her at arm’s length, looking at her downcast gaze. He saw now how his anxieties had spurred some of her own, her old nerves about their relationship coming to the forefront. But she pushed them aside to try and help him. It was so sweet and kind, but he hoped she could be more open with him in time.

“We’ve talked about this. I’m not having second thoughts about moving in together or being by your side.” He stared deeply into her eyes, imploring her to heed him. “My dream to help people, to be a pillar of hope, to become the world’s greatest hero - I want to do all of that with you. I never would have made it this far without your help. And I don’t know how far I’ll make it from this point without you.”

“Izuku…” she gulped, her mouth trembling, her eyes shining brilliantly beneath the setting sun.

“We’re going to help the world. Bring smiles to people’s faces, right?” It was a dream they shared and had discussed so often, it had become deeply ingrained in their memory.

“Rescue people,” Ochako continued, getting back into the spirit of it. “Including reckless heroes who need saving.”

Izuku chuckled, scratching at the back of his head at the pointed statement. “We have to inspire the next generation, too.”

“And make lots of money so our parents never have to worry again!” Ochako exclaimed, bouncing on her feet, never losing sight of her original motivation for heroics.

“And we’re going to do it….” Izuku continued, extending his fist toward her.

“Together!” she finished the pronouncement, bumping his fist into his with a flourish. They were friends, lovers, and most importantly, partners. They were Deku and Uravity, an unstoppable, unbreakable duo. They could both lapse in remembering that sometimes, but always found kind ways to remind one another.

“Now, I guess we should get back to unpacking,” Izuku suggested, before wiping the moisture from his brow. The intensity of the conversation, though fairly brief, was enough for him to work up an even heavier sweat. “I wish it hadn’t been quite so warm today.”

“I’d just rather cool down after all that,” Ochako grumbled, sticking her head out over the balcony again to absorb more of the breeze. She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing on the cool brush of the wind. They flew open suddenly, a wide smile lighting up her face, instantly capturing Izuku’s attention. “I have an idea.”

“Oh?” he perked up an eyebrow, listening intently. Her bursts of inspiration were always fascinating.

Without a word, she gently tapped herself in a practiced motion, before leaping over the edge of the balcony with ease thanks to her newfound weightlessness.

“Ochako?!” he cried out.

She responded with loud laughter, grasping to the railing from the other side and sticking the rest of her body outward, her hair blowing haplessly around her. “That’s way better! Come on Deku!”

She extended a hand out to him, her padded fingertips calling to him. A gateway to freedom and escape.

“I don’t know…” Izuku muttered, his eyes reflexively darting across the horizon - only lingering a moment to appreciate how brightly she shone. “What if someone sees us?”

“We’re on the top floor,” Ochako noted, staring up at the open path to the sky. “We’ll get high enough to avoid that. Come on, it’ll be fine. Just for a little while?”

It was difficult to resist her beckoning grin. He was reminded of how often she had pulled him forward, helping him break out of his social shell as one of his first true friends.

“Alright, you win.” Izuku grabbed her hand, letting her trigger her Quirk, delighting in the exuberance of her victorious cry. She pulled him over the ledge and kicked their weightless selves off, letting the rush of the wind surround them.

Izuku breathed a sigh of relief as the air brushed over his warm skin, instantly soothing it. The skyline below was even more beautiful as they began to rise higher, giving a better view of the sun starting to crest the horizon, bathing the cityscape in a pleasant orange glow.

“This is so much better.” Ochako giggled as she lifted the two of them towards the roof, giddy as the wind started to blow them about. As the breeze picked up, Izuku motioned for her to release him from weightlessness, triggering his own float Quirk to better stabilize them. His power was usually more draining than hers, but he wanted to be cautious and keep better control in the air.

But Ochako used it to her advantage, grabbing onto him tightly to anchor her weightless body, unabashed in pressing herself into him. She let out a shuddered breath, pushing her head onto his shoulder. Izuku responded in kind, holding her close, letting his eyes fall closed, content to float aimlessly. It felt wonderful to hold her.

Times like this were too rare. For just a moment, their worries about the world below faded away, and it was just them. Not Deku and Uravity. Izuku and Ochako. Two people in love.

Suddenly, he could feel her fingertips shove something deeply into his left ear, disrupting the tranquil moment. He opened his eyes quickly, startled by the intrusion. Her gaze was mirthful, a devious little grin plastered on her face. He noticed a long, white cord sticking between them, one end leading up into her right ear, the remainder plunging into the pocket of her jeans.

Then the music started.

The song was bubbly and up-tempo, some top pop number he had heard out on the streets patrolling a few times. Izuku blinked rapidly, his analytical mind short-circuiting as he struggled to put the pieces together.

“Dance with me?” Ochako asked, beaming up at him from beneath her eyelashes. She was irresistible.

He gulped, his heart beating fast, a powerful warmth overtaking his cheeks. In complete awe, he could only manage a question: “You planned this?”

“I thought it would be nice to do something memorable for the first night at our new home. Getting away from the heat was just an upside.” She spun herself around in the air in a show of flair, keeping within his arm’s reach. “And I realized we had never had much fun together in the sky like this.”

That was true enough. Floating was for travelling to scenes faster or getting an advantage over villains, not playtime. They had honed their Quirks to serve society; anything else was secondary.

But as the sun finally crested the horizon, bathing Ochako in a glorious, almost ethereal glow, Izuku realized he wanted this as much as she did.

Surprising his partner, he grabbed onto her hands, swinging her in close, enjoying the little squeak she let out at the movement.

“I’d love to,” he replied sincerely, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Thank you. This was a great idea.”

She twisted herself around, pressing her back against his chest, pushing them towards the building.

“I’m glad. I really didn’t know how well my plan would work,” she whispered honestly in his ear, voice faint amidst the wind. “Just remember to watch your step this time.”

Izuku chuckled, smiling from ear-to-ear. “At least it won’t hurt if I step on your feet up here.”

“You better not anyway!”

The two moved together in the darkening sky, their bodies flowing with the freedom of flight. They improvised their dance, lacking any cohesion, but so long as they could be close to one another, neither of them cared. Their worries seemed so far away now, the weight on their hearts lifted.

As night fell and they became bathed in the star’s light, they came even closer, locking themselves in an embrace. They twirled slowly together, the music getting replaced by each other’s breaths and heartbeats. Izuku was sure the starlit city was beautiful, but he had eyes only for her.

On top of the world, the heavens shining down on them, Izuku and Ochako found peace.

They both knew: when they returned to the earth, they would overcome, so long as they were together.

——————————————————————–

AN: Written for the IzuOcha Temple Discord Server Summer Writing Contest. Prompt: Keep Your Cool. Thank you to the organizers for putting this on and motivating me to write.

This one went through quite a lot of changes; it was 6,800 words at one point before an overhaul. I may have more to add to this later.

Sorry it has been a while since my last fic! Writing blocks abound these days.

But I hope you enjoyed this one! ^_^ Please leave a like and/or reblog if you did!

#my hero academia #IzuOcha #fanfiction #one-shot #Izuku Midoriya #Ochako Uraraka #romance #shipping #angst #introspection #character study #fluff #so much fluff #enough fluff to reach the heavens #manga spoilers

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unlockthelore · 5 years ago

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Restless Nightly Pursuits

Idly restless through the night, sleep is impossible to find when answers are roaming the palace halls. From the series Affections Touching Across Time on Ao3, and part of the Talking To The Moon fic. For more updates, follow the affections touching across time tag on this blog. For more of this fic, follow the talking to the moon tag.

How could I have not known?

The question was at the forefront of Sesshomaru’s mind as he stormed through the halls, attempting to put as much distance as possible between himself and the study. He could feel Rin’s presence at his back. Hear wood rattling in its frame as the door slid open and her scent — gods, her scent. She always smelt of blossoms and woodlands, ink and paper, the ocean and all its arcane wonders, but beneath it was what he’d been ignorant of.

A child.

Children, if his mother were to be believed.

Girls.

Twins.

And his wife knew, but she deemed him unfit of such knowledge. For how long?

His skin crawled, claws brushing against the palm of his hand as his fingers curled into fists beneath the drape of his sleeves. Gentle words and tender touches to guide her from her studies to the comforts of the bath he’d drawn for her were mottled in the disgusting bitterness soured on his tongue. Poison burned beneath his claws, and the fissures gathered on his heart widened as pain throbbed with every beat. His fur rippled wildly on his shoulder as he drew in a deep breath, forcing the molten touch of his poison away from his claws in order to slide open one of the doors.

Outside.

Fresh air.

He needed to find release before something untoward came forth. Traitorously, his feet led him further from the open flatlands near the forefront of the castle. Terraced land, dipping into a grassy hillside where at the base rested a thicket of trees meandering around a rocky cliffside — The expanse of the ocean was open to behold past the veritable wall of nature, and it was where Sesshomaru intended as he took to the skies.

Distance.

He needed distance from all which lingered behind him, but he couldn’t go far. His wife, the mother of his children, lingered on the grounds, and he would be loath to abandon her.

Abandon Rin?

As quickly as he took to the skies, he landed on the thick and sprawling grassland. Bade himself not to think of the water glistening upon curved blades of grass speaking of the earlier rainfall. How his wife would have buried her toes in the soil and called for him to do the same.

If she is with child, would she not grow ill if —

Sesshomaru clenched his jaw to stifle the surging growl and marched down the hillside, unperturbed by the incline. If he closed his mind for a moment and pretended the trees surrounding him as he stepped into the thickets were that of the forests he used to roam, then perhaps it would ease him. Thoughts of the castle, of the woman who was waiting for him or perhaps searching for him, set aside.

How could he yearn for her as much as he wanted to be upset with her?

Does she not trust me?

Bright-eyed Rin with her wit and smiles, always at his side, assuring him with soft touches and imploring glances. She coaxed him to calm more than once, showedfaith in him to protect her, and later on, entrusted him with her body and soul . Sesshomaru’s eyes shuttered as he turned his head away from the notion of distrust. His wife was loyal to a fault. Even if her very life were in imminent danger, she would put her faith in him just as she had done time and time again.

So why now?

He tried to breathe in, but the air was thick and humid, refusing to slip down his throat, instead clogging and suffocating. What was this feeling? He hated it. Hated this urge to lash out — to question her on why — to see beyond the smiles that constantly blinded him with their beaming radiance .

Will that change once they’re born, or will I—

Sesshomaru drew in a large breath to steady himself. What would she say then? Did she regret this? What they had done, what they had created together? A burning pain cracked at the fissures in his heart, and he turned his head away, forcing the rippling of his fur to cease.

No. She hadn’t said it, he hadn’t felt discontent in her heart, but she’d been hiding this.

Hiding from him.

Regardless of what anyone may claim, Sesshomaru was not born for the sake of an heir.

And his mother knew. He wanted to scoff. Of course she knew. She always knew what others didn’t and kept the information to herself until it suited her needs to reveal it. But this revelation explained much: whyshe was adamant in helping him with affairs, bidding Rin to rest, or insisting that they spend time together. During all that time, he hadn’t noticed a thing.

I expected to find myself weary of being tethered to this helpless and needy being, eventually finding him to be a burden, and kill him when it suited my needs.

Why?

The tip of his boot caught on a root while the other skidded in the grass, jerking him forward. Silver-white hair veiled half-lidded eyes as he stared listlessly at his own shadow. It wasn’t a secret. He knew inuyōkai weren’t always accommodating or wanting of their offspring. His mother’s affections were peculiar, to say the least, while his father’s were occasional. Did Rin find fault in that? The scandalized way in which she gasped, the indignation in her voice — was it out of concern, or did she doubt what he would desire?

Children. Did she think he would abandon them as his father abandoned him?

No matter how desperately he tried to wrap his mind around it and force her away from thought, she would always return, and he would find himself staring into the memory of her eyes, her smile gone and replaced by a sullen thoughtful expression. Brown irises darkened, pupils dilated and dreadfully saddened —

Sesshomaru.

He twitched upright and jerked his entangled foot forward, ripping forth the sunken roots and flinging dirt into the air. His energy crackled. Teeth elongating, then shortening painfully,he tried to keep himself from transforming as he briskly strode through the forest until the sky opened up before him and the cliffside was centimeters from the tips of his boots. From the precipice, he could view the foamy darkened depths crashing against the shore, then receding. His breaths were short; shoulders rising, then falling slowly; red tinging the corners of his quivering, swimming vision. Looking up to the sky, the moon was dreadfully familiar.

Mikazuki.

A crescent moon, just like the one he’d been born with.

What would it be like for them? His daughters. Would they have the same moon as his birth, or would they be without it? Perhaps they would have ears as his half-brother did, or take on their mother’s appearance...

He wouldn’t have known.

Ruefully, his lips pulled back into a sneer, blinking slowly to chase away the stinging heat gathering at the back of his eyes. He wasn’t sure for how long he stood there or when the clouds began to roll across the sky, dimming moonlight washing over him. Left in semi-somnolent darkness, Sesshomaru inhaled , then closed his eyes as the sound of wet grass squelching underfoot accompanied a quiet voice.

“You heard.”

He knew this conversation would come, but he hardly wanted it to ensue.

No, I did.

Knowing would set these bitter feelings aside, yet he couldn’t bring himself to turn and face her. Out of not wanting to show her this side of him or to feel compelled to forget and draw her into his arms.

Answers.

What he needed were answers.

“Did you intend for it not to reach?” Sesshomaru asked, fighting to keep his voice steady.

Rin was quiet for a moment, but when she spoke, her voice was filled with an assurance and stability he envied. “I had to be certain of what I wished to do,” she said.

Sesshomaru bristled at that. What she wished to do. His mother had made it clear that they created life, yet she kept him ignorant. Complacent. And for what? His jaw clenched painfully, fang pressed to the skin of his lip.

“Then it was needed to deceive, Rin?” He asked, barely able to keep the contempt from his voice. “To keep me ignorant of their existence.”

Do you not trust me, Rin?

“What are you saying?”

Sesshomaru blinked, and despite all of his composure, all of his struggling to not look at her, he glanced over his shoulder. Rin was staring at him, her brown eyes narrowed . True, he’d seen her withering glares, brows furrowed as she began to unleash fury upon someone foolish enough to insult her. But it was never directed toward him. Not until today. Rin glared at him scathingly — disbelief, hurt, and anger deadened in chilled, honey brown eyes.

“This isn’t something I can simply be prepared for, it isn’t an eventuality I expected. I never considered being a mother. We never spoke of having children — “

Sesshomaru scoffed, turning on his heel to face her, feeling the venom on his tongue as he spat. “You never asked.”

Rin recoiled, her face crumpling for a second, then she rose , her shoulders tensed and hands balled into fists. “Because I know you…” She trailed off, the words tense, and bit into him for as they left her lips, he saw the sheen in her eyes. “You despise hanyō.”

And there it was. The fact that he’d overlooked this entire time. His wife, his beloved wife who would be the mother of his children was human. Half their child’s blood would be hers, and the other would be his own. A voice, whispering from the distant past, told him it would be disgusting. The proud bloodline of his father’s would be sullied by yet another hanyō, and this time, it would be of his own making.

He wasn’t sure what expression he showed, but Rin’s face fell and her eyes widened, shimmering with unshed tears. Sesshomaru tried to force the air to course through his lungs.

“I had no desire to follow the path of a normal girl,” Rin hissed, stamping her foot in the soil. “No man nor woman I cared for long enough to lay with and consider a family until you began to travel with me again.”

Sesshomaru jerked his head away. He didn’t want to hear that. He’d come to terms with the idea that Rin had loved others. It was within her rights. He made her a promise, but gave her the room to search her heart. To explore what it is she wanted from the world that had denied her the right to live . If he’d come back to the village where they parted ways and found her married with child —

“I’m frightened, Sesshomaru.”

Those words wrenched him from his thoughts, and he tugged his head up. Senses heightened as he became acutely aware of the world around them. There were no threats he could cut to ribbons with his claws or melt to nothing with poison. No. The only threat present was Rin looking at him. Her voice rose above the crashing waves against the rocky cliffside.

“I am scared more than you know,” she seethed, and the hurt cracked at her voice just as the threshold blocking the tears she’d been blinking away began to falter. “You have every right to be angry, I won’t deny you that. But I do not want to do this without you.”

But she would. The words unspoken weren’t a threat. No, they were a promise. Rin was independent of him in both mind and body. She would make her own choices as she deemed fit — as she’d always done — as he once bade her to do. Even in this, with the lives that they created, she would take it into her own hands. Sesshomaru stiffened his jaw, stamping down his turmoil at the scent of her tears.

How could you think to do this without my involvement, Rin? I am always —

“I need to know that you are beside me, that you can set aside this silly prejudice.”

His thoughts spilled from her lips, and he recoiled with such ferocity that his heel clipped a deep crevice in the earth.

“Silly?” He uttered in a tense graven tone, shocked and exasperated at being referred to in that manner.

Rin didn’t seem swayed by his tone or otherwise, her arms folded loosely over her chest. Sesshomaru’s gaze flicked to her wrist where the sleeve of her yukata fell back, exposing smooth skin without the cloth bracers she’d don into battle. He didn’t expect for Rin to take arms against him. Never once had she raised a hand to him, albeit she was adept at making her words sharper than her knives.

“And what would you call it?” She demanded fretfully, a wrinkle in her nose as she tipped her head to one side. The uneven fringe of her bangs darkened the shadows around brown eyes, which were almost glowing in the dim light. “What reason could you have for hating hanyō as you do? You feel they are beneath you? Just as humans are — as I am?”

Before he could think to rein in his tone, Sesshomaru growled. “You are not beneath me.”

How could she say something like that? For a second, the displeased look gave way to one of fleeting affection, and he brieflyyearned for the Rin who smiled at him warmly. Not the incandescent woman who glowered at him a second later, unapologeticallyerasing the kindly expression of his beloved wife.

“I am an exception then?” She shifted her stance to set her hands upon her waist, and he couldn’t help but notice the way her fingers lingered at her abdomen. “Will your daughters also be an exception, Sesshomaru? How will you justify it to them?”

He almost wanted to say that he did not have to. When they were born, he would protect them with all that he had because they were theirs. Part of them was Rin, and he loved her. That they were hanyō was unavoidable. Why was that not enough for her?

“Where does this stem from, Rin?”

He had to know: whatdrove the wedge between them that she could not speak to him as candidly as she did now? He stared at her, and she looked away. It was enough to loosen his tongue, but he bid himself not to say a word. Give her time. Give her a choice. Even if she seemed keen on taking his own away with nary a word.

After a moment of painfully long silence, resignation flickered across her face. “Inuyasha.”

Sesshomaru scoffed at the name and turned his head away, but Rin wouldn’t allow him to evade thr topic . She hardly ever did. Now, as they stood on the precipice with only the sea behind them and their home before them, there was nowhere for either of them to flee .

“He is the root of all of your hate towards hanyō.”

“This has nothing to do with him.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Sesshomaru.”

The image of her displeasure in his mind paled considerably in comparison to the dark, terrible expression marring her face. She flung a hand aside sharply, the grass bending upon the breeze as if answering her call.

“You felt scorn toward your brother for your father’s demise — because he fell protecting him and his mother —”

“He was a fool—”

“He was a father protecting his child,” Rin gestured aggressively to her abdomen, curling her fingers in the silken fabric. “It didn’t matter if Inuyasha’s blood was tainted by humanity, he loved his son. And you hated your brother for so long, enforced this idiotic belief that he was beneath you to wallow in your own pain and justify your actions against him.”

Sesshomaru turned his head away. He didn’t want to hear this. Not from her. Though, when he closed his eyes, he could see Inuyasha and the priestess Kagome as she’d been then. A wide-eyed andterrified teenage girl clinging to his half-brother’s sleeve.

“You used his mother’s image to trick him.”

Inuyasha’s eyes, golden and glazed over, unseeing him but someone else. He couldn’t see past the demoness’ guise. It was according to his plan, a foolish mistake on the hanyō’s part. Sesshomaru suppressed a tick of annoyance at how he referred to his brother then. Inferior, lacking, sentimental.

What he saw was the face of his dearly departed mother. The woman who caused their father’s demise all so that he could live. And what a wretch he’d grown to be.

He isn’t any longer.

Why the Mu-on’na protected him, Sesshomaru couldn’t understand at the time , but the pain in Inuyasha’s eyes when their gazes met — he felt satisfaction.

Now, it was a acrid memory of his failures in the pursuit of what would have never been his. Slowly, he met Rin’s eyes . Her shoulders undulated heavily, and the smell of tears had only grown stronger. Pain. She was in pain.

I am the cause.

No, this started with her deceit. Hadn’t it?

“Are you my judge then?” Sesshomaru questioned in a low tone, almost lost to the night with how airy and light his voice had become. “Is this your punishment — to withhold this from me? Shame me?”

He could see them before, but now as the clouds rolled past, moonlight spilled into their small pocket of the world and glistened on streaks of silver tracking down her cheeks. She shook her head slowly, the corners of her lips twitched upward, but there was no mirth to be found. Her eyes were wet, lashes heavy and fluttering shut as she closed her eyes.

“This is my evidence. My evidence of what I need from you…”

His fingers twitched at his side. The urge to reach out and wipe away her tears stilled by her own hand raising to do the deed itself.

“Set aside your prejudice, learn from your mistakes, and be better for it…” Her shaky breaths were beginning to even, and when her hand pulled away, the disheartened woefulness in her eyes was replaced with a fierce assertion. “Because you were wrong.”

The tight grip on her yukata eased. Silk smoothed out with gentle brushes. His gaze transfixed on each sweep of her fingers as if he could see past the tranquil veneer she’d set.

“Because if you raised a hand to these children as you did your own brother, I—”

Sesshomaru’s eyes widened, and Rin’s face fell. Their eyes met, and not a word had to be said. He could feel the intent behind her pause . Her calm mask had cracked, replaced with a horrific and fearful expression. His own facade schooled into neutrality despite the sudden upset at the implication.

“Would you threaten harm to me…” His voice trailed off as he watched her shift from one foot to the other, her gaze falling to her feet. Disbelief crept into his voice as he called out to her. “Rin?”

Her eyes closed. “To protect our daughters?” She started resolutely, a fatigue and sadness engulfing her face as she met his eyes. Her brown almost deepened to a murky black.

“Without question.”

Sesshomaru straightened and this time, when he turned away from her, he didn’t look back. Rin’s footsteps were deafening. Each one guided her further from him to the thicket of trees and beyond to the palace.

Standing alone on the edge, Sesshomaru looked to the crescent moon in the sky.

#inuyasha fandom #sesshorin #sessrin #sesshomaru x rin #fanfiction #my fanfiction #sesshomaru #rin #affections touching across time #talking ot the moon

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sparklyaxolotlstudent · 5 years ago

Text

New Girl 3

Epilogue (Maybe?)

The weeks came and went rather quickly at the Dupain-Cheng household. The addition of Giselle and Tikki to the household (and more important, to the family) had been received positively. Tikki could come and go freely around the house (Although Sabine had to pull the mom card and limit her consumption of cookies, and she had to sit down in a little chair and table that Tom had built for her for family meals. Marinette was rather surprised to learn Tikki actually liked meat), and she and Tom bonded over their love of trashy reality shows.

Giselle, on the other hand, had proved herself a bit more of a challenge, as, while she was extraordinarily smart and seemed to have a knack for math and business, she was also literally born yesterday, so she had trouble expressing her emotions and with the simplest of tasks, as she was utterly unfamiliar with them.

They decided that they would wait a few weeks before she started going to school with Marinette, so they could teach her as much as they could and make the transition to her new life as smooth as possible. She loved working at the bakery, but unlike Marinette, who loved baking, she loved more the financial aspects of running a business, and had already helped her new parents with inventory and organizing stuff that they actually took turns doing it because neither really liked that part of running a business. They all wondered where did Giselle got that from, since Marinette wasn’t particularly know for that, and to be fair, neither were them. Still, they did love that she was herself, and not a copy of Marinette. (Marinette suspected that whoever Mayura was, Giselle got those skills from her, but didn’t told anyone, otherwise she might upset Giselle)

Of course Sabine and Tom were just joking when they say they would ground their daughter for going out and save the world, but they did ask that in the future she told them about it so they could properly worry about her, and set up alibis, in case they were necessary. And in Tom’s case, so he could chase the akuma with a stale baguette if needed. Marinette had to point out they never had leftover baguettes to go stale, so Tom had to buy a baseball bat. Marinette was a bit surprised when Tikki approved of the violence.

Meeting Master Fu had been… well, it was something, although Marinette really wasn’t sure what she expected. Her parents of course had asked her how she became Ladybug in the first place, and she had to fess up (with Tikki’s approval) and she had invited the old Master for tea and pastries to meet her parents, and to meet Giselle.

He was mad she had revealed her identity so quickly, but Tom and Sabine countered with how he had chosen their baby –Marinette was not amused- for such responsibility. Master Fu, of course, relented, especially after Sabine used her Mom Stare, and he cowed under her gaze. It was super effective.

Master Fu explanation was that adults are more easily corruptible with power (Hawk Moth and Mayura being a good example) and more importantly, he saw the potential of Marinette becoming the hero that Paris needed, and how Marinette not only had fulfilled all expectations he had, but she had easily surpassed them. Marinette had to excuse herself after hearing this, as she wasn’t really used to compliments like that. Sabine and Tom had to agree with the old Master about their daughter being exceptional. They just wished they had know before so that she would have a safety net, but to be fair, if they had know before Ladybug had become the greatest hero of Paris, they would probably forbidden Marinette of ever looking at the Miraculous… or would have done the job themselves. Which Master Fu thought it wasn’t such a bad idea… Still, adults get easily corrupted, but he could see the sincerity behind their words. Maybe they could be miraculous holders if Ladybug ever needed them on the field…

And then came the matter of Giselle. Master Fu was as surprised as everyone about how Tikki’s powers had mixed with Duusuu’s and had created a human. Master Fu idly wondered if the Kwami of life would get mad if they ever found out. With the Miraculous of Life being currently MIA, Master Fu would have to wait to know. He, of course, was a bit annoyed that Marinette had gone straight to her parents instead of himself to discuss their options with the New Girl… But then realized that the only other real option would have been himself raising her, and he understood that Marinette had actually picked the best option.

Neither of them were amused when Wayzz pointed out that maybe Marianne could have adopted Giselle. Then again, it would be kind of unfair to load the responsibility of a teenager on her just like that. And then he had to explain who Marianne was to the Dupain-Chengs. They swore they would get in contact with her, and now that Marinette had them in the loop, Sabine practically forced him to take some days off to go visit her every other month, Hawk Moth be dammed, they would be there to help their daughters and Chat Noir.

Master Fu wondered if Giselle was still able to transform into “Sentibug”, and Tom and Sabine were curious to see how their own daughter transformed. Giselle went first, using the same phrase, “Tikki, spots on”, and to Marinette’s and Master Fu surprise, she transformed into Ladybug, with Tikki going inside her earrings. Marinette tried to transform, but without a Tikki available, it was impossible. Apparently, without Duusuu’s magic actively making her Sentibug, she needed another kwami to transform, and thus, they had created a copy of the Miraculous, but not a copy of the kwami herself. Master Fu decided that she should keep the earrings in case they needed some distraction from Marinette’s true identity, but that she should have her own identity, and thus would give her another Miraculous soon, with everyone agreeing to this decision.

Returning to school the Monday after the whole chaos happened was… interesting. Her parents had been adamant about not allowing anyone on the house under the pretense that Marinette was still grounded for the expelling, which Alya and the rest found unfair, but neither parent relented.

Marinette was honestly not sure how they would react to Lila being finally exposed for the fraud that she was, and she certainly didn’t know how they would react, or even if they knew that Damocles and Bustier were under investigation due to her expelling.

What she had not expected was that no one would mention anything. Apparently Lila had been able to spin some web of lies about how she had won a scholarship to some prestigious Art School (When Marinette asked where, no one knew the name of the school… She wasn’t surprised) and wouldn’t return in some time.

Adrien was his pleasant self, saying he was glad everything worked out for everyone in the end, which rubbed her the wrong way, but she had long accepted Adrien always wanted to see the best in people and could be a bit naïve about that, still, it was nice that at least she had someone else that also knew the truth.

Neither Miss Bustier nor Mister Damocles returned to school. Miss Mendeleiev was elected as Deputy Headmistress while someone else was hired to do the job (That she hated, she was an educator, not an administrator) and did the announcement that they would no longer be working at the school, and left it at that. She also mentioned that she would not tolerate rumors or gossip of any kind, so that put an end to that too.

A new teacher was soon introduced to the class, Mister Beaumont, who seemed nice enough, if a bit stricter than Miss Bustier. One of his first acts was actually discipline Chloe (To be fair, he succeeded mostly because Chloe feared that Miss Mendeleiev would not be a push over like Mister Damocles and would actually punish her instead of doing what her father demanded. )

Everyone was happy with him, although most still wondered what happened with Miss Bustier (Outside of school, of course, they didn’t want to risk Miss Mendeleiev overhearing them)

And the day came when the Dupain-Cheng thought that Giselle was ready for the world. They also got advantage of the fact that Miss Mendeleiev was an educator and not an administrator to get her enrolled without much trouble (They were well connected and had gotten her “legal” documents)

Marinette and Giselle introduced her with the story they had thought before, she was Marinette’s cousin from Achu, who lost her parents recently and had come to Paris to live with her Aunt and Uncle. Adrien couldn’t help but think she reminded her of someone. And that she looked a lot like Marinette.

“But not as much as you and your cousin Felix”

Marinette couldn’t help but snort at Nino’s remark, which Adrien had to concede. Not to mention Giselle was much much nicer.

To no one’s surprise, although Giselle hanged out with Marinette’s group at first, she slowly gravitated towards Max, Kim, Alix and Nathaniel’s group, or rather, she got on well with Max’s penchant for math and organization, even if video games weren’t completely to her liking. She also rather liked Marc’s writing and Alix blunt attitude (Anyone who didn’t know them would think they were fighting when they were actually having friendly banter). All in all, Giselle had formed her own identity and was no longer a copy of Marinette.

Well, except when she transformed into Ladybug, but that didn’t count.

#ml au #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #episode:ladybug #ml spoilers #ml fix fic #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Giselle Dupain-Cheng

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