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shurisneakers · 3 years

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harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.”

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction.

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves.

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year.

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over.

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture.

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.”

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?”

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve.

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line.

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t.

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up.

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.”

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank.

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.”

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on.

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

“Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in.

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing.

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion.

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas.

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury.

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly.

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?”

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it.

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday.

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table.

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too.

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group.

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running.

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces.

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation.

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately.

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account.

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop.

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu.

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there.

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay.

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you.

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?”

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?”

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside.

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense.

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining.

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass.

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise.

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.”

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter.

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly.

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing.

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He’d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing.

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm.

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report.

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system.

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board.

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them.

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought.

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods.

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.”

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.”

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face.

He narrows his eyes at you.

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case.

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

“No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted.

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated.

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.”

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial.

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done.

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks.

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind.

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots.

There was no going back now.

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously.

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt.

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly.

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.”

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.”

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.”

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you.

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago.

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave.

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically.

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes.

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability.

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave.

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you.

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly.

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future.

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk.

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him.

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.”

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery.

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly.

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face.

His stomach does a flip.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him.

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?”

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice.

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off.

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.”

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator.

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing.

Gosh.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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aboveallarescuer · 3 years

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Parallels between Aerys II Targaryen and Cersei Lannister (and why they are both foils to Dany)

In this post, I gathered all the parallels I could find between Cersei and Aerys II after recently rereading Cersei’s chapters and Aerys’s section in TWOIAF. While a lot of people have made good points criticizing how Cersei was written (namely, as incompetent, misogynistic and irredeemable, at least in the canon timeline where her fate is already sealed) considering her special place in the narrative (namely, as arguably the female character who most frequently and openly questions and challenges the validity of Westerosi patriarchy, as well as the only major female villain of the story and the only woman among the three Lannister siblings), it’s also true that GRRM intended her to be paralleled with Aerys II in many ways, which will be laid out here.

Recognizing how Aerys II and Cersei are alike is particularly important for emphasizing that both characters were written as foils to Daenerys, so I will also explain how Dany doesn’t share their similarities.

Both believe they are destined for greatness

Aerys II:

Aerys II did not lack for ambition. Upon his coronation, he declared that it was his wish to be the greatest king in the history of the Seven Kingdoms, a conceit certain of his friends encouraged by suggesting that one day he might be remembered as Aerys the Wise or even Aerys the Great. (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

Cersei:

The Lord of Casterly Rock deserved rainbows. He had been a great man. I shall be greater, though. A thousand years from now, when the maesters write about this time, you shall be remembered only as Queen Cersei’s sire. (AFFC Cersei II)

That’s not the case with Dany. Her titles (the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, Mhysa, Azor Ahai, etc) were given to her by other people, she doesn’t think she’s special despite birthing dragons and receiving multiple prophecies and she’s incredibly hard on herself for every mistake she makes. She simply doesn’t have an exaggerated sense of her importance or abilities like Cersei and Aerys II do.

Both are cut by the Iron Throne

Aerys II:

Yet still the blades tormented him, the ones he could never escape, the blades of the Iron Throne. His arms and legs were always covered with scabs and half-healed cuts. (AFFC Jaime II)

Cersei:

The barbs and blades of the Iron Throne bit into her flesh as she crouched to hide her shame. Blood ran red down her legs, as steel teeth gnawed at her buttocks. When she tried to stand, her foot slipped through a gap in the twisted metal. The more she struggled the more the throne engulfed her, tearing chunks of flesh from her breasts and belly, slicing at her arms and legs until they were slick and red, glistening. (AFFC Cersei I)

While Cersei was only cut in a dream, this moment is still significant because the Iron Throne is infamous for only harming and ‘rejecting’ the bad rulers. GRRM could have written a similar dream for Dany if he wanted to make her and Cersei follow the same direction, specially in AFFC/ADWD where he noted multiple times that they’re meant to be paralleled and contrasted. Instead, while Cersei’s first chapter in AFFC begins with her dreaming of being on the Iron Throne and being cut by it, Dany’s first chapter in ADWD begins with her dreaming of a house with a red door. Also, while Cersei wishes she could sit on the Iron Throne but is unable to because only the King and the Hand can sit on it, Dany willingly gives up on the privilege to sit on an elaborate throne and chooses an ebony bench that "did not befit a queen" in Meereen. So, not only the author emphasized that Dany doesn’t want power for its own sake (but rather to help people) and that she wants to be at the level of her people, he also didn’t take the chance to portray her as a bad ruler (because she is a good one) like he did with Cersei and Aerys II.

Both feel excitement and pleasure at the sight of wildfire

Aerys II:

Frustrated, Aerys turned to the Wisdoms of the ancient Guild of Alchemists, who knew the secret of producing the volatile jade green substance known as wildfire, said to be a close cousin to dragonflame. The pyromancers became a regular fixture at his court as the king's fascination with fire grew. By 280 AC, Aerys II had taken to burning traitors, murderers, and plotters, rather than hanging or beheading them. The king seemed to take great pleasure in these fiery executions, which were presided over by Wisdom Rossart, the grand master of the Guild of Alchemists...so much so that he granted Rossart the title of Lord and gave him a seat upon the small council. (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

The sight had filled him with disquiet, reminding him of Aerys Targaryen and the way a burning would arouse him. A king has no secrets from his Kingsguard. Relations between Aerys and his queen had been strained during the last years of his reign. They slept apart and did their best to avoid each other during the waking hours. But whenever Aerys gave a man to the flames, Queen Rhaella would have a visitor in the night. (AFFC Jaime II)

Cersei:

Cersei thought of all the King’s Hands that she had known through the years: Owen Merryweather, Jon Connington, Qarlton Chelsted, Jon Arryn, Eddard Stark, her brother Tyrion. And her father, Lord Tywin Lannister, her father most of all. All of them are burning now, she told herself, savoring the thought. They are dead and burning, every one, with all their plots and schemes and betrayals. It is my day now. It is my castle and my kingdom. (AFFC Cersei III)

Cersei felt too alive for sleep. The wildfire was cleansing her, burning away all her rage and fear, filling her with resolve. “The flames are so pretty. I want to watch them for a while.” (AFFC Cersei III)

Jaime knew the look in his sister's eyes. He had seen it before, most recently on the night of Tommen's wedding, when she burned the Tower of the Hand. The green light of the wildfire had bathed the face of the watchers, so they looked like nothing so much as rotting corpses, a pack of gleeful ghouls, but some of the corpses were prettier than others. Even in the baleful glow, Cersei had been beautiful to look upon. She'd stood with one hand on her breast, her lips parted, her green eyes shining. She is crying, Jaime had realized, but whether it was from grief or ecstasy he could not have said.

The sight had filled him with disquiet, reminding him of Aerys Targaryen and the way a burning would arouse him. (AFFC Jaime II)

That never happens with Dany. She does describe the flames positively during the ritual to hatch the dragon eggs, but so does Jon Snow and GRRM himself. She does claim the fire as hers, but it has to do with her magical intuition as she puts two and two to birth her children and is ultimately validated. Most importantly, unlike Aerys II and Cersei, Dany a) never feels excitement while watching things burn for their own sake, b) never takes pleasure viewing or imagining her enemies burning and c) is never compared to Aerys II to highlight any disturbing behavior from her part. She is called the Mad King’s daughter by her enemies (the slavers and Mace Tyrell), but the characters around her and the ones who have nothing to gain by defaming her (Barristan, Tyrion, Illyrio, Quentyn) reiterate that she’s nothing like him. Meanwhile, two of the people who have known Cersei the longest (Jaime on the quotes above, Tyrion) compare her to Aerys II.

Both grow paranoid with time; they imagine implausible scenarios in which their perceived enemies are working (often together) against them, accept their baseless fears as truth and make hasty decisions based on them

Aerys II:

The march of the king's madness seemed to abate for a time in 274 AC, when Queen Rhaella gave birth to a son. So profound was His Grace's joy that it seemed to restore him to his old self once again...but Prince Jaehaerys died later that same year, plunging Aerys into despair. In his black rage, he decided the babe's wet nurse was to blame and had the woman beheaded. Not long after, in a change of heart, Aerys announced that Jaehaerys had been poisoned by his own mistress, the pretty young daughter of one of his household knights. The king had the girl and all her kin tortured to death. During the course of their torment, it is recorded, all confessed to the murder, though the details of their confessions were greatly at odds. (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

The birth of Prince Viserys only seemed to make Aerys II more fearful and obsessive, however. Though the new young princeling seemed healthy enough, the king was terrified lest he suffer the same fate as his brothers. Kingsguard knights were commanded to stand over him night and day to see that no one touched the boy without the king's leave. Even the queen herself was forbidden to be alone with the infant. When her milk dried up, Aerys insisted on having his own food taster suckle at the teats of the prince's wet nurse, to ascertain that the woman had not smeared poison on her nipples. As gifts for the young prince arrived from all the lords of the Seven Kingdoms, the king had them piled in the yard and burned, for fear that some of them might have been ensorcelled or cursed. (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

Captivity at Duskendale had shattered whatever sanity had remained to Aerys II Targaryen. From that day forth, the king's madness reigned unchecked, growing worse with every passing year. The Darklyns had dared lay hands upon his person, shoving him roughly, stripping him of his royal raiment, even daring to strike him. After his release, King Aerys would no longer allow himself to be touched, even by his own servants. Uncut and unwashed, his hair grew ever longer and more tangled, whilst his fingernails lengthened and thickened into grotesque yellow talons. He forbade any blade in his presence save for the swords carried by the knights of his Kingsguard, sworn to protect him. His judgments became ever harsher and crueler. (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

Once safely returned to King's Landing, His Grace refused to leave the Red Keep for any cause and remained a virtual prisoner in his own castle for the next four years, during which time he grew ever more wary of those around him, Tywin Lannister in particular. His suspicions extended even to his own son and heir. Prince Rhaegar, he was convinced, had conspired with Tywin Lannister to have him slain at Duskendale. They had planned to storm the town walls so that Lord Darklyn would put him to death, opening the way for Rhaegar to mount the Iron Throne and marry Lord Tywin's daughter. (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

And when the triumphant Prince of Dragonstone named Lyanna Stark, daughter of the Lord of Winterfell, the queen of love and beauty, placing a garland of blue roses in her lap with the tip of his lance, the lickspittle lords gathered around the king declared that further proof of his perfidy. Why would the prince have thus given insult to his own wife, the Princess Elia Martell of Dorne (who was present), unless it was to help him gain the Iron Throne? The crowning of the Stark girl, who was by all reports a wild and boyish young thing with none of the Princess Elia's delicate beauty, could only have been meant to win the allegiance of Winterfell to Prince Rhaegar's cause, Symond Staunton suggested to the king. (TWOIAF The Fall of the Dragons: The Year of the False Spring)

When the news reached the Red Keep, it was said that Aerys cursed the Dornish, certain that Lewyn had betrayed Rhaegar. He sent his pregnant queen, Rhaella, and his younger son and new heir, Viserys, away to Dragonstone, but Princess Elia was forced to remain in King's Landing with Rhaegar's children as a hostage against Dorne. (TWOIAF The Fall of the Dragons: The End)

Cersei:

“I am counseling you. If you will not yield the regency to me, name me your castellan for Casterly Rock and make either Mathis Rowan or Randyll Tarly the Hand of the King.”

Tyrell bannermen, both of them. The suggestion left her speechless. Is he bought? she wondered. Has he taken Tyrell gold to betray House Lannister? (AFFC Cersei II)

“Lord Manderly hacked the head and hands off the onion knight, we have that from the Freys, and half a dozen other northern lords have rallied to Lord Bolton. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Where else can Stannis turn, but to the ironmen and the wildlings, the enemies of the north? But if he thinks that I am going to walk into his trap, he is a bigger fool than you.” (AFFC Cersei VII)

“No doubt. Tell me, was it our little queen who commanded you to kill Lord Gyles?”

“K-kill?” Grand Maester Pycelle’s eyes grew as big as boiled eggs. “Your Grace cannot believe ... it was his cough, by all the gods, I ... Her Grace would not ... she bore Lord Gyles no ill will, why would Queen Margaery want him ...”

“... dead? Why, to plant another rose on Tommen’s council. Are you blind or bought? Rosby stood in her way, so she put him in his grave. With your connivance.” (AFFC Cersei IX)

She knew Joff was too strong for her, Cersei thought, remembering the gold coin Qyburn had found. For House Tyrell to hope to rule, he had to be removed. It came back to her that Margaery and her hideous grandmother had once plotted to marry Sansa Stark to the little queen’s crippled brother Willas. Lord Tywin had forestalled that by stealing a march on them and wedding Sansa to Tyrion, but the link had been there. They are all in it together, she realized with a start. The Tyrells bribed the gaolers to free Tyrion, and whisked him down the roseroad to join his vile bride. By now the both of them are safe in Highgarden, hidden away behind a wall of roses. (AFFC Cersei VI)

Cersei’s case is complicated in that she has valid reasons to be anxious: prophecies come true in her world, the Tyrells did kill Joffrey (she’s right in that regard, at least) and the coin found in the cell could be evidence that the Tyrells were involved in Tyrion’s escape. The problem is how she deals with her suspicions. To defeat Margaery, she projected her experiences on her (every widow definitely has sexual appetites, so Margaery definitely has lovers), held on to the few dubious signs that she was cheating on the king (Margaery asking Pycelle for moon tea or having a lively court), tortured an innocent man to confirm the story she needs to incriminate Margaery and arrested several innocent people. Besides that, Cersei also: alienates Kevan by avoiding his recommendations and giving important titles to other cousins based on her hunch that he was bought by the Tyrells (quote above); avoids giving the Tyrells help when the ironmen attack the Shield Islands based on her baseless suspicion that Stannis made an alliance with the ironmen and was, therefore, behind the attack on the Shield Islands with the intention to turn Cersei’s eyes away from the Storm’s End and Dragonstone (quote above); forces Pycelle to "confirm" what she wants to believe because of her guess that he helped the Tyrells kill Gyles Rosby (quote above). And these are just some of the major examples.

Dany has moments when she is unsure of whether the people around her are reliable or not. She questions if Reznak is trustworthy or if he, Hizdahr and the Green Grace joined forces against her or if Groleo could be one of the three prophesied treasons, but she remains willing to listen to their advice and never undermines or punishes them solely based on her suspicions because, unlike her father or Cersei, she has a healthy distrust of others.

Both choose to be excessively and needlessly brutal against their enemies and the people who offend them (even when their offenses are relatively minor and/or not supported by facts)

Aerys II:

When one such reported that the captain of the Hand's personal guard, a knight named Ser Ilyn Payne, had been heard boasting it was Lord Tywin who truly ruled the Seven Kingdoms, His Grace sent the Kingsguard to arrest the man and had his tongue ripped out with red-hot pincers. (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

By 280 AC, Aerys II had taken to burning traitors, murderers, and plotters, rather than hanging or beheading them. The king seemed to take great pleasure in these fiery executions, which were presided over by Wisdom Rossart, the grand master of the Guild of Alchemists...so much so that he granted Rossart the title of Lord and gave him a seat upon the small council. (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

When Darklyn and his family were presented to him in chains, Aerys demanded their deaths—and not only Darklyn's immediate kin but his uncles and aunts and even distant kinsmen in Duskendale. Even his goodkin, the Hollards, were attainted and destroyed. Only Ser Symon's young nephew, Dontos Hollard, was spared—and only then because Ser Barristan begged that mercy as a boon, and the king he had saved could not refuse him. As to Lady Serala, hers was a crueler death. Aerys had the Lace Serpent's tongue and her womanly parts torn out before she was burned alive (yet her enemies say that she should have suffered more and worse for the ruin she brought down upon the town). (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

Cersei:

"M'lord, begging your pardon, Her Grace said those as didn't meet their numbers would have their hands crushed," the anxious smith persisted. "Smashed on their own anvils, she said."

Sweet Cersei, always striving to make the smallfolk love us. (ACOK Tyrion III)

"Y'Grace," he said quietly, "the boys caught a groom and two maidservants trying to sneak out a postern with three of the king's horses."

"The night's first traitors," the queen said, "but not the last, I fear. Have Ser Ilyn see to them, and put their heads on pikes outside the stables as a warning." (ACOK Sansa VI)

“I hope you did not wake them, Ser Boros. Let them sleep.”

“Sleep?” He looked up, jowly and confused. “Aye, Your Grace. How long shall—”

“Forever. See that they sleep forever, ser. I will not suffer guards to sleep on watch.” (AFFC Cersei I)

“His Grace should send the Wall a hundred men. To take the black, ostensibly, but in truth …”

“... to remove Jon Snow from the command,” Cersei finished, delighted. I knew I was right to want him on my council. “That is just what we shall do.” She laughed. If this bastard boy is truly his father's son, he will not suspect a thing. Perhaps he will even thank me, before the blade slides between his ribs. “It will need to be done carefully, to be sure. Leave the rest to me, my lords.” This was how an enemy should be dealt with: with a dagger, not a declaration. (AFFC Cersei IV)

“Send some of your whisperers to these shows and make note of who attends. If any of them should be men of note, I would know their names.”

“What will be done with them, if I may be so bold?”

“Any men of substance shall be fined. Half their worth should be sufficient to teach them a sharp lesson and refill our coffers, without quite ruining them. Those too poor to pay can lose an eye, for watching treason. For the puppeteers, the axe.”

“There are four. Perhaps Your Grace might allow me two of them for mine own purposes. A woman would be especially ...”

“I gave you Senelle,” the queen said sharply.

“Alas. The poor girl is quite ... exhausted.”

[...] “Yes, you may take a woman. Two, if it please you. But first I will have names. (AFFC Cersei V)

“I cannot have Falyse spreading tales about the city. Her grief has made her witless. Do you still need women for your ... work?”

“I do, Your Grace. The puppeteers are quite used up.”

“Take her and do with her as you will, then. But once she goes down into the black cells ... need I say more?” (AFFC Cersei VII)

Dany doesn’t act like this. She burned the masters in Astapor to protect her retinue and punished the Meereenese leaders who ordered the crucifixion of the slave children, but she also spared all the Yunkish masters and most of the Meereenese masters. Her leniency is the root of her problems in ADWD, since it allowed them to retaliate against the abolition of slavery. Additionally, Dany doesn’t punish Ghael for spitting on her, she doesn’t punish a boy for trying to attack her, she doesn't punish Xaro for threatening her to her face, she chooses not to follow her councillors' advice to punish the former slavers indiscriminately and so on. You can read more about how Dany's tendency is to avoid using violence in this meta.

Both use torture to get people to confirm what they believe or what's convenient for them

Aerys II:

Cersei:

“Tell us how you pleasured the little queen. [...] How many of them did you have carnal knowledge of?”

“None of them. I’m just a singer. Please.”

[...] Lord Qyburn ran a hand up the Blue Bard’s chest. “Does she take your nipples in her mouth during your love play?” He took one between his thumb and forefinger, and twisted. “Some men enjoy that. Their nipples are as sensitive as a woman’s.” The razor flashed, the singer shrieked. On his chest a wet red eye wept blood. [...]

By dawn the singer’s high blue boots were full of blood, and he had told them how Margaery would fondle herself as she watched her cousins pleasuring him with their mouths. At other times he would sing for her whilst she sated her lusts with other lovers. “Who were they?” the queen demanded, and the wretched Wat named Ser Tallad the Tall, Lambert Turnberry, Jalabhar Xho, the Redwyne twins, Osney Kettleblack, Hugh Clifton, and the Knight of Flowers.

That displeased her. She dare not besmirch the name of the hero of Dragonstone. [...] The Redwynes could not be a part of it either. [...] “All you are doing is spitting up the names of men you saw about her chambers. We want the truth! [...] Horas and Hobber had no part of this, did they?”

“No,” he admitted. “Not them.”

“As for Ser Loras, I am certain Margaery took pains to hide what she was doing from her brother.”

“She did. I remember now. Once I had to hide under the bed when Ser Loras came to see her. He must never know, she said.”

“I prefer this song to the other.” (AFFC Cersei IX)

Dany doesn't act like her father or Cersei in that regard either. She allows the use of torture (which is normalized in her world) to question people regarding the murders of former slaves, but she stops it once she realizes that the results are unreliable because, unlike her foils, she cares about punishing the actual perpetrators, not about having her beliefs confirmed at any cost.

Both are often cruel, rude and disrespectful to others

Aerys II:

At the great Anniversary Tourney of 272 AC, held to commemorate Aerys's tenth year upon the Iron Throne, Joanna Lannister brought her six-year-old twins Jaime and Cersei from Casterly Rock to present before the court. The king (very much in his cups) asked her if giving suck to them had "ruined your breasts, which were so high and proud." (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

Over his Hand's strenuous objections, the king doubled the port fees at King's Landing and Oldtown, and tripled them for Lannisport and the realm's other ports and harbors. When a delegation of small lords and rich merchants came before the Iron Throne to complain, however, Aerys blamed the Hand for the exactions, saying, "Lord Tywin shits gold, but of late he has been constipated and had to find some other way to fill our coffers." (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

Tyrion, as the babe was named, was a malformed, dwarfish babe born with stunted legs, an oversized head, and mismatched, demonic eyes (some reports also suggested he had a tail, which was lopped off at his lord father's command). Lord Tywin's Doom, the smallfolk called this ill-made creature, and Lord Tywin's Bane. Upon hearing of his birth, King Aerys infamously said, "The gods cannot abide such arrogance. They have plucked a fair flower from his hand and given him a monster in her place, to teach him some humility at last." (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

Cersei:

Cersei stared at her, aghast. “Your lackwit sister gets herself raped by half of King’s Landing, and Tanda thinks to honor the bastard with my lord father’s name? I think not.” (AFFC Cersei II)

She wanted a storm to match her rage. To Jocelyn she said, “Tighter. Cinch it tighter, you simpering little fool.”

It was the wedding that enraged her, though the slow-witted Swyft girl made a safer target. (AFFC Cersei III)

“Would Your Grace honor her white knight with a dance?”

She gave him a withering look. “And have you fumbling at me with that stump? No. I will let you fill my wine cup for me, though. If you think you can manage it without spilling.” (AFFC Cersei III)

“Very well. Get off those saggy knees and try to remember what it was to be a man.” Pycelle struggled to rise, but took so long about it that she had to tell Osmund Kettleblack to give him another yank. (AFFC Cersei IX)

For the vast majority of the time, Dany is kind and courteous. Her detractors tend to question that fact with two main arguments: a) she laughed at Quentyn; b) she is intolerant about Meereenese culture. Their first argument is very weak. Dany didn't laugh at Quentyn, she laughed about the reason why Quentyn is called frog and then forgot to explain why she did so in the Common Tongue. Even then, though, Quentyn is so overwhelmed by her kindness that he only remembers that "the queen had always spoken to him gently". Their second argument is also unconvincing because Dany's dislike of several aspects of Meereenese culture has to do with their ties to slavery (case in point: the fighting pits) and, even then, she makes several concessions to culturally adapt. Additionally, unlike Aerys II or Cersei, she doesn't express her critical thoughts (which are way less common and way less derogatory than Cersei's) verbally.

Both give rewards and promotions to those who blindly obey and agree with them, regardless of whether they’re experienced, competent or trustworthy

Aerys II:

He was also vain, proud, and changeable, traits that made him easy prey for flatterers and lickspittles, but these flaws were not immediately apparent to most at the time of his ascension. (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

His father's court had been made up largely of older, seasoned men, many of whom had also served during the reign of King Aegon V. Aerys II dismissed them one and all, replacing them with lords of his own generation. (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

The king replaced him as Hand with Lord Owen Merryweather, an aged and amiable lickspittle famed for laughing loudest at every jape and witticism uttered by the king, no matter how feeble. (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

The Mad King could be savagely cruel, as seen most plainly when he burned those he perceived to be his enemies, but he could also be extravagant, showering men who pleased him with honors, offices, and lands. The lickspittle lords who surrounded Aerys II had gained much and more from the king's madness and eagerly seized upon any opportunity to speak ill of Prince Rhaegar and inflame the father's suspicions of the son. (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

Cersei:

"A weak ruler needs a strong Hand, as Aerys needed Father. A strong ruler requires only a diligent servant to carry out his orders." (AFFC Jaime II)

The Kettleblacks would charm her, take her coin, and promise her anything she asked, and why not, when Bronn was matching every copper penny, coin for coin? Amiable rogues all three, the brothers were in truth much more skilled at deceit than they'd ever been at bloodletting. Cersei had managed to buy herself three hollow drums; they would make all the fierce booming sounds she required, but there was nothing inside. (ACOK Tyrion IX)

My councillors. Cersei had uprooted every rose, and all those beholden to her uncle and her brothers. In their places were men whose loyalty would be to her. She had even given them new styles, borrowed from the Free Cities; the queen would have no “masters” at court beside herself. (AFFC Cersei IV)

Grand Maester Pycelle had wanted an older man “more seasoned in the ways of war” to command the gold cloaks, and several of her other councillors had agreed with him. “Ser Osfryd is seasoned quite sufficiently,” she had told them, but even that did not shut them up. They yap at me like a pack of small, annoying dogs. (AFFC Cersei V)

"She would have done better to leave the tower and burn her Hand. Harys Swyft? If ever a man deserved his arms, it is Ser Harys. And Gyles Rosby, Seven save us, I thought he died years ago. Merryweather ... your father used to call his grandsire 'the Chuckler,' I'll have you know. Tywin claimed the only thing Merryweather was good for was chuckling at the king's witticisms. His lordship chuckled himself right into exile, as I recall. Cersei has put some bastard on the council too, and a kettle in the Kingsguard. (AFFC Jaime V)

Besides the Kettleblacks (as shown above), Cersei rewards many other people that are rarely, if ever, willing to question her - Harys Swyft, Orton Merryweather, Aurane Waters, Gyles Rosby, Meryn Trant, Qyburn (the only one who doesn't turn his back on Cersei after she falls from power), etc. The only one that disagrees with her decisions regularly is Pycelle, which is why she rebukes him quite a few times throughout AFFC. Also, while Cersei considers Aerys a weak ruler, they both believe that their Hands should be servants that know their place and follow them blindly.

Dany doesn't restrict herself to only listening to the people she agrees with. She welcomes dissent multiple times throughout the books and so, consequently, her council gives voice to multiple groups (from the Unsullied to the freedmen to the former slavers to the Dothraki).

Both alienate and undermine important allies because of disagreements that could have been mended and fears that lead both rulers to perceive these potential allies as enemies

Aerys II:

The growing rift between the king and the King's Hand was also apparent in the matter of appointments. Whereas previously His Grace had always heeded his Hand's counsel, bestowing offices, honors, and inheritances as Lord Tywin recommended, after 270 AC he began to disregard the men put forward by his lordship in favor of his own choices. Many westermen found themselves dismissed from the king's service for no better cause than the suspicion that they might be "Hand's men." In their places, King Aerys appointed his own favorites...but the king's favor had become a chancy thing, his mistrust easy to awaken. Even the Hand's own kin were not exempt from royal displeasure. When Lord Tywin wished to name his brother Ser Tygett Lannister as the Red Keep's master-at-arms, King Aerys gave the post to Ser Willem Darry instead. (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

Perhaps seeking to gain advantage of His Grace's high spirits, Lord Tywin chose that very night to suggest that it was past time the king's heir wed and produced an heir of his own; he proposed his own daughter, Cersei, as wife for the crown prince. Aerys II rejected this proposal brusquely, informing Lord Tywin that he was a good and valuable servant, yet a servant nonetheless. Nor did His Grace agree to appoint Lord Tywin's son Jaime as squire to Prince Rhaegar; that honor he granted instead to the sons of several of his own favorites, men known to be no friends of House Lannister or the Hand. (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

Lord Denys, seeing that Aerys's erratic behavior had begun to strain his relations with Lord Tywin, refused to pay the taxes expected of him and instead invited the king to come to Duskendale and hear his petition. It seems most unlikely that King Aerys would ever have considered accepting this invitation...until Lord Tywin advised him to refuse in the strongest possible terms, whereupon the king decided to accept, informing Grand Maester Pycelle and the small council that he meant to settle this matter himself and bring the defiant Darklyn to heel. (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

Cersei:

Garth the Gross on the small council and his two bastards in the gold cloaks ... do the Tyrells think I will just serve the realm up to them on a gilded platter? The arrogance of it took her breath away.

“Garth has served me well as Lord Seneschal, as he served my father before me,” Tyrell was going on. “Littlefinger had a nose for gold, I grant you, but Garth—”

“My lord,” Cersei broke in, “I fear there has been some misunderstanding. I have asked Lord Gyles Rosby to serve as our new master of coin, and he has done me the honor of accepting.”

Mace gaped at her. “Rosby? That ... cougher? But ... the matter was agreed, Your Grace. Garth is on his way to Oldtown.”

“Best send a raven to Lord Hightower and ask him to make certain your uncle does not take ship. We would hate for Garth to brave an autumn sea for nought.” She smiled pleasantly.

A flush crept up Tyrell’s thick neck. “This ... your lord father assured me ...” (AFFC Cersei II)

Cersei had named her cousin Damion Lannister her castellan for the Rock, and another cousin, Ser Daven Lannister, the Warden of the West. Insolence has its price, Uncle. (AFFC Cersei III)

“I have been remiss. With a realm to rule, a war to fight, and a father to mourn, somehow I overlooked the crucial matter of naming a new master-at-arms. I shall rectify that error at once.”

Ser Loras pushed back a brown curl that had fallen across his forehead. “Your Grace will not find any man half so skilled with sword and lance as I.”

Humble, aren’t we? “Tommen is your king, not your squire. You are to fight for him and die for him, if need be. No more.”

She left him on the drawbridge that spanned the dry moat with its bed of iron spikes and entered Maegor’s Holdfast alone. Where am I to find a master-at-arms? she wondered as she climbed to her apartments. [...]

Aron Santagar was Dornish, Cersei recalled. I could send to Dorne. Centuries of blood and war lay between Sunspear and Highgarden. Yes, a Dornishman might suit my needs admirably. There must be some good swords in Dorne. (AFFC Cersei V)

He had even had the temerity to object to her sending to Dorne for a master-at-arms, on the grounds that it might offend the Tyrells. “Why do you think I’m doing it?” she had asked him scornfully. (AFFC Cersei VI)

“Your Grace, let me take Dragonstone.”

[...] No one had given Cersei such a lovely gift since Sansa Stark had run to her to divulge Lord Eddard’s plans. She was pleased to see that Margaery had gone pale. “Your courage takes my breath away, Ser Loras. [...] Swear to me that you shall not return until Dragonstone is Tommen’s.”

“I shall, Your Grace.” He rose.

[...] Pycelle had to struggle to keep up. “If it please Your Grace,” he puffed, “young men are overbold, and think only of the glory of battle and never of its dangers. Ser Loras ... this plan of his is fraught with peril. To storm the very walls of Dragonstone ...”

“... is very brave. [...] I have no doubt that our Knight of Flowers will be the first man to gain the battlements.” And perhaps the first to fall. (AFFC Cersei VII)

Dany doesn't do this; instead, she makes plenty of concessions to appease her influential allies, from wearing the tokar to marrying Hizdahr by Ghiscari rites if he gives her ninety days of peace to allowing Hizdahr to reopen the fighting pits to accepting a deal between Meereen and Yunkai that allows the latter to reinstall slavery. All of these decisions are ultimately mistakes since they unwittingly prioritize the privileges of the former masters over the rights of the former slaves, but they still show that Dany is capable of making alliances in a way that Aerys II and Cersei aren't due to their black and white thinking.

Both are extravagant rulers who plan grand schemes that are never realized

Aerys II:

His Grace was full of grand schemes as well. Not long after his coronation, he announced his intent to conquer the Stepstones and make them a part of his realm for all time. In 264 AC, a visit to King's Landing by Lord Rickard Stark of Winterfell awakened his interest in the North, and he hatched a plan to build a new Wall a hundred leagues north of the existing one and claim all the lands between. In 265 AC, offended by "the stink of King's Landing," he spoke of building a "white city" entirely of marble on the south bank of the Blackwater Rush. In 267 AC, after a dispute with the Iron Bank of Braavos regarding certain monies borrowed by his father, he announced that he would build the largest war fleet in the history of the world "to bring the Titan to his knees." In 270 AC, during a visit to Sunspear, he told the Princess of Dorne that he would "make the Dornish deserts bloom" by digging a great underground canal beneath the mountains to bring water down from the rainwood.

None of these grandiose plans ever came to fruition; most, indeed, were forgotten within a moon's turn, for Aerys II seemed to grow bored with his royal enthusiasms as quickly as he did his royal paramours. (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

Cersei:

“Would that we could do the same to the rest of this foul castle,” said Cersei. “After the war I mean to build a new palace beyond the river.” She had dreamed of it the night before last, a magnificent white castle surrounded by woods and gardens, long leagues from the stinks and noise of King’s Landing. “This city is a cesspit. For half a groat I would move the court to Lannisport and rule the realm from Casterly Rock.” (AFFC Cersei III)

A group of merchants appeared before her to beg the throne to intercede for them with the Iron Bank of Braavos. The Braavosi were demanding repayment of their outstanding debts, it seemed, and refusing all new loans. We need our own bank, Cersei decided, the Golden Bank of Lannisport. (AFFC Cersei VIII)

That's not the case with Dany either. Throughout her reign, she only makes reasonable and attainable decisions to improve Meereen's economy, such as planting grapes, beans and wheat, replanting olive trees, making an alliance with the Lhazareen and freeing the slaves of the hinterlands to bring crops to the city.

Both are unpopular with the common people

Aerys II: (note that Tywin himself is unpopular with the smallfolk)

They cheered Father twice as loudly as they cheered the king, the queen recalled, but only half as loudly as they cheered Prince Rhaegar. (AFFC Cersei V)

Cersei:

As she made her way through the ragged throng, past their cookfires, wagons, and crude shelters, the queen found herself remembering another crowd that had once gathered on this plaza. The day she wed Robert Baratheon, thousands had turned out to cheer for them. [...]

No one was smiling now. The looks the sparrows gave her were dull, sullen, hostile. They made way but reluctantly. (AFFC Cersei VI)

Thrice that day she heard the sound of distant shouting drifting up from the plaza, but it was Margaery’s name that the mob was calling, not hers. (AFFC Cersei X)

We have yet to see how the common people in Westeros will view Dany, but she is very popular among freedmen and slaves from all over Essos, so she doesn't fit this either.

Both feel threatened by the shadow of Tywin Lannister

Aerys II:

By this time, King Aerys had become aware of the widespread belief that he himself was but a hollow figurehead and Tywin Lannister the true master of the Seven Kingdoms. These sentiments greatly angered the king, and His Grace became determined to disprove them and to humble his "overmighty servant" and "put him back into his place." (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

Cersei:

“Lord Tywin was a great man, an extraordinary man,” he declared ponderously after he had kissed both her cheeks. “We shall never see his like again, I fear.”

You are looking at his like, fool, Cersei thought. It is his daughter standing here before you. (AFFC Cersei II)

She was tired of Jaime balking her. No one had ever balked her lord father. When Tywin Lannister spoke, men obeyed. When Cersei spoke, they felt free to counsel her, to contradict her, even refuse her. (AFFC Cersei V)

This is not a perfect parallel because Cersei alternates between hero-worshiping and drawing inspiration and strength from Tywin to resenting the control he had over her, so much so that she lists her father alongside her enemies and takes pleasure in the fact that he's now dead. Even so, both Aerys II and Cersei feel that they were owed the treatment that people gave Tywin.

This doesn't happen with Dany because she doesn't feel threatened by anyone nor does Tywin play an important role in her story.

Both feel threatened by a younger, more beautiful, more popular would-be king/queen

Aerys II:

The cheers of the crowd were said to be deafening, but King Aerys did not join them. Far from being proud and pleased by his heir's skill at arms, His Grace saw it as a threat. Lords Chelsted and Staunton inflamed his suspicions further, declaring that Prince Rhaegar had entered the lists to curry favor with the commons and remind the assembled lords that he was a puissant warrior, a true heir to Aegon the Conqueror. (TWOIAF The Fall of the Dragons: The Year of the False Spring)

The lickspittle lords who surrounded Aerys II had gained much and more from the king's madness and eagerly seized upon any opportunity to speak ill of Prince Rhaegar and inflame the father's suspicions of the son. (TWOIAF The Fall of the Dragons: The Year of the False Spring)

Meanwhile, King Aerys was becoming ever more estranged from his own son and heir. Early in the year 279 AC, Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, was formally betrothed to Princess Elia Martell, the delicate young sister of Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne. They were wed the following year, in a lavish ceremony at the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing, but Aerys II did not attend. He told the small council that he feared an attempt upon his life if he left the confines of the Red Keep, even with his Kingsguard to protect him. Nor would he allow his younger son, Viserys, to attend his brother's wedding. (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

The memory was still bitter. Old Lord Whent had announced the tourney shortly after a visit from his brother, Ser Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard. With Varys whispering in his ear, King Aerys became convinced that his son was conspiring to depose him, that Whent's tourney was but a ploy to give Rhaegar a pretext for meeting with as many great lords as could be brought together. Aerys had not set foot outside the Red Keep since Duskendale, yet suddenly he announced that he would accompany Prince Rhaegar to Harrenhal, and everything had gone awry from there. (ADWD The Kingbreaker)

Cersei:

Her mood was not improved when Mace Tyrell arose to lead the toasts. He raised a golden goblet high, smiling at his pretty little daughter, and in a booming voice said, “To the king and queen!” The other sheep all baaaaaaed along with him. “The king and queen!” they cried, smashing their cups together. “The king and queen!” She had no choice but to drink along with them, all the time wishing that the guests had but a single face, so she could throw her wine into their eyes and remind them that she was the true queen. (AFFC Cersei III)

“Your Grace, she ... she is the queen ...”

“I am the queen. (AFFC Cersei IX)

It was a pity that Maggy the Frog was dead. Piss on your prophecy, old woman. The little queen may be younger than I, but she has never been more beautiful, and soon she will be dead. (AFFC Cersei IX)

Cersei's case is more justified in that she believes that, by defeating the YMBQ, she'll also prevent her children from dying and the valonqar from killing her.

This doesn't happen with Dany.

Both lost a child (children, in Aerys’s case) and fear for the safety of their remaining child (children, in Cersei’s case) to the point that these concerns become intertwined with their fears that someone is out to get them

Aerys II:

Cersei:

I am dreaming still, Cersei thought. I have not woken, nor has my nightmare ended. Tyrion will creep out from under the bed soon and begin to laugh at me.

[...] A dream, that’s all it was, a dream. I drank too much last night, these fears are only humors born of wine. I will be the one laughing, come dusk. My children will be safe, Tommen’s throne will be secure, and my twisted little valonqar will be short a head and rotting. (AFFC Cersei I)

Cersei had a sudden vision of the dwarf crawling out from behind a tapestry in Tommen’s bedchamber with blade in hand. Tommen is well guarded, she told herself. But Lord Tywin had been well guarded too. (AFFC Cersei I)

The younger queen whose coming she’d foretold was finished, and if that prophecy could fail, so could the rest. No golden shrouds, no valonqar, I am free of your croaking malice at last. (AFFC Cersei X)

Like in the previous parallel, Cersei's bad reactions are more justified due to the fact that prophecies come true in her world and due to her understandable sense of self-preservation.

This doesn't happen with Dany.

Both had unhappy marriages and believed that their spouses weren’t the right ones for them

Aerys II:

What Tywin Lannister made of this is not recorded, but in 266 AC, at Casterly Rock, Lady Joanna gave birth to a pair of twins, a girl and a boy, "healthy and beautiful, with hair like beaten gold." This birth only exacerbated the tension between Aerys II Targaryen and his Hand. "I appear to have married the wrong woman," His Grace was reported to have said, when informed of the happy event. (TWOIAF The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II)

Cersei:

“...Your father will find another man for you, a better man than Rhaegar.”

Her aunt had lied, though, and her father had failed her, just as Jaime was failing her now. Father found no better man. Instead he gave me Robert, and Maggy’s curse bloomed like some poisonous flower. If she had only married Rhaegar as the gods intended, he would never have looked twice at the wolf girl. Rhaegar would be our king today and I would be his queen, the mother of his sons.

She had never forgiven Robert for killing him. (AFFC Cersei V)

The major difference in this parallel, of course, is that Aerys raped his wife and Cersei was raped by her husband.

This doesn't happen with Dany.

Comparisons in the text between Aerys II and Cersei

"Let all of King's Landing see the flames. It will be a lesson to our enemies."

"Now you sound like Aerys."

Her nostrils flared. "Guard your tongue, ser." (AFFC Cersei III)

The sight had filled him with disquiet, reminding him of Aerys Targaryen and the way a burning would arouse him. (AFFC Jaime II)

"Westeros is torn and bleeding, and I do not doubt that even now my sweet sister is binding up the wounds … with salt. Cersei is as gentle as King Maegor, as selfless as Aegon the Unworthy, as wise as Mad Aerys. She never forgets a slight, real or imagined. She takes caution for cowardice and dissent for defiance. And she is greedy. Greedy for power, for honor, for love. Tommen's rule is bolstered by all of the alliances that my lord father built so carefully, but soon enough she will destroy them, every one.” (ADWD Tyrion VI)

Again, as I said above, the comparisons between Cersei and Aerys II come from two of the people who have known Cersei the longest (Jaime, Tyrion).

Meanwhile, Dany is only called the Mad King’s daughter by her enemies (the slavers and Mace Tyrell). The characters who actually know her and the characters who have nothing to gain by defaming her (Barristan, Tyrion, Illyrio, Quentyn) reiterate that she’s nothing like him.

#aerys ii targaryen #cersei lannister #daenerys targaryen #asoiaf meta

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angry-geese · 3 years

Text

At Dawn’s Break III

PB!Dio Brando x Maid!Reader, Jonathan Joestar x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: none! sfw, mention of death, but nothing too graphic. Mostly plot. Not the healthiest relationship dynamic. Technically yandere Dio but its very tame

Notes: Part One- sfw, Part Two- nsfw, Part Four - nsfw

This has been in my drafts for so long I’m so sorry. I do have a friend helping me edit my ao3 stuff so there might be some grammatical differences between that and the stuff posted here but i'll try to keep it as consistent as possible- story-wise its still the same.

In the coming months, word would arrive of your father’s death.

Sad wasn’t the right word for it. The man was old, sick, and frail. He fell ill and never recovered. Things like that happen. It was expected. His passing was quiet, happening in the early hours in the morning. You had grieved his death long before it actually happened. Your love for him was more out of a sense of duty than anything else. He was never a proper parent, the harsh expectations of life were thrown upon you rather young. At nineteen you were left as the sole guardian of your siblings. Some nights you would scream about the unfairness of it all, others you would wallow in your pity. The constant "sorry for your loss"s infuriated you. It would not bring him back. It would not fix this hole you've dug for yourself. It did nothing to justify what you've gone through. The world wasn't going to stop spinning just for you to feel sorry for yourself.

So you returned to work.

Your meetings with Dio grew fewer and further apart. Your conversations were short, ending with arguments. What he could dish out, you threw right back. Often you found yourself bitter and frustrated with him, leaving much space between the two of you. It wasn’t that you loved him any less, but he wasn’t exactly understanding in this matter. Neither of his fathers- adopted or biological- could he stand. Putting it plainly: Dio was awful at comforting people. Sympathy was not one of his strong suits. Going to him for comfort was out of the question.

Your life was soon after consumed by the mundane nature of work. The repetition of it you found soothing. It was nice to have a routine. Even if Dio wasn’t there for you, it was. The head maid took notice in your sudden interest in work, and blamed Dio for your lacking efforts. You just nodded and kept your head down.

Mr. Joestar would soon fall ill. Due to his old age, it didn’t come as a surprise to many. Very few questioned it. He was older, but seemingly healthy at the time. He fell sick overnight with the flu, which soon turned to pneumonia. It was not looking like he would recover. His coughing fits could be heard from across the manor. Much of it reminded you of your own father, so you often stayed away, only coming around when it was asked of you.

It makes you wonder if Dio feels the same sense of duty to his father. Probably not. He does not understand family ties in the same way you do. He was very attentive when Mr. Joestar fell ill, often providing medicine for him. If you were called to help, he would go in your place. It feels false, like a mockery of a doting son. Yes- he's providing for his father, but it feels like an alien trying to copy a human. Like a robot trying to replicate human love. It’s not out of any kindness in his heart. What he feels isn’t love. Sometimes you don’t think he’s capable of it. But if he did love something, it was power. He’d never admit it, but it was also you. Having you so consumed with grief enraged him. It was a childish want for attention that he found hard to conceal. He never took out his anger on you, finding himself afraid of turning out to be like his birth father driving his mother into an early grave. Often he thought about how easily he could force your hand, make you chose between him and your family. Deep down he didn’t want to toss out an ultimatum. You had just as much of a bite as him; unstoppable force meets immovable object. In no way he saw that ending well. Others had noticed the growing distance between you. People talked- as they did- rumors spread.

“Y/N.” Jonathan’s voice startles you.

“Mister Joestar, how-”

“Call me Jonathan.”

You cringe at the interruption.

“Jonathan.” You say. “How can I help you?”

“Will you take a walk with me?”

He guides you out to the garden. Winter has left it scraggly and barren, washed out in cold, white light. A few wilting leaves cling to the trees. Only a handful of rooms are lit within the house. It feels personal, being dragged through the place where you spent so many of your nights with your lover. Calling him that feels strange. Lover seems like too innocent of a word.

Over your time at the Joestar estate, there isn’t much you know about Jonathan. Dio talked of him. Often. It was never good, though he had a way of exaggerating things. By now you’ve learned to take it with a grain of salt. Your meetings with the second Joestar son have been few and rather brief. He seems sweet, albeit a bit naive and too engrossed in high society to talk with the likes of you. The girls in the kitchen swoon over him, although he’s sweet on a neighbor girl. Erina- you’ve heard of her. She’s been over for dinner before.

"How are you?" He asks.

"Fine, I suppose." You say, a bit irritated with the small talk. "What is it you need of me?"

"I heard what happened," absentmindedly he picks at his nails, "and I wanted to give my condolences. I imagine this situation is... unpleasant for you."

"I manage." You say. "But I doubt that's what you brought me out here for."

He nods. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Then ask away. I'd be happy to answer."

“You’re close with Dio, aren’t you?” He asks.

“A bit. Why?”

While you’re almost certain he knows, it feels easier to lie. You were not the star-crossed lovers that Jonathan and Erina were, the type of partners that made the girls you work with swoon and wish for such a thing, the type of love people write books about but fail to recreate. Your relationship was more out of a mutual agreement than it was proper love, but you suppose it was there. The two of you were angry, scathing people who were capable of god knows what. Together you could be terrifying.

“You two seem to spend quite a lot of time together.” He says. “Have you noticed anything strange with him?”

“No.” You say. “I haven't noticed anything like that."

"He's awfully attentive with father..."

"It's bizarre." You say. He laughs.

"I'm heading to London in a few days- to the university. Father's medicine hasn't been working, and I want it to be examined." From his coat pocket he produces a small green bottle. it's familiar. Dio has one quite like it.

"Do you need anything while you're away?" You ask, wishing to get back to your work. There was laundry that needed to be done.

"No," he says, turning to you, "thank you for your time. I should get going."

Before you can leave, he stops you.

"I know it's no business of mine, but my brother is bad news. You're a sweet girl and I don't want anything to happen to you. Dio is capable of things you couldn't even imagine."

"You're right. It is no business of yours."

He gives you a quick goodbye before leaving you alone in the garden.

Over time, Dio has grown more serious about keeping you close. He has a malicious, possessive streak to him. Your recent distance has only brought that out more. There is no talk of marriage- his adoptive father would never approve- but he talks of the future. Often. For you, the future meant work. To some extent, you could live with that. You never knew what it meant for him. He jokes of world domination.

You’re not quite sure you want to rule the world, but you do want to get out of London.

You stop just under the apple tree. It’s sickly and sad looking. The last of the fruit has fallen off and rotted. A few wilting leaves cling onto the branches. Jonathan gives you a quick goodbye, before returning to the house.

The door to his room is open. A lantern is lit, though the curtains are drawn shut. There’s no need to knock, you’re the only person who will walk in.

“Sit with me, pet.” Dio says.

Maybe the nickname has grown on you. It no longer draws out the same reaction of disgust and discomfort. Time has softened your hard outer shell. He opens his arms and instinctively you go into them. His chest feels unnaturally cold, but being so close to him makes you feel safe. The smell of his cologne is familiar and comforting, you find yourself leaning in closer. You allow yourself this one moment of weakness. He rests his chin on top of your head.

“I don’t have long,” you say, “I must get back.”

He pulls you closer. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Jonathan came and talked with me earlier.” You say.

You could almost swear you heard his heart skip a beat. His grip around you loosens, allowing you to shift to face him. His expression is unreadable.

“Yes.” He says. “I figured he would.”

“Why?”

You almost ask what he’s done.

Accusing him of something would only make him shut down. You already have a guess. The entire conversation leaves a bad taste in your mouth. It’s a constant unease and discomfort, more than it is outright pain. He's scheming- as he does- but more importantly, he hasn't told you about it.

“My brother doesn't believe in my ways.” He says. "I would never do anything to hurt father. It's no fault of mine that he won't recover."

"Then tell me what was in the bottle." You say. "As of right now, Jonathan is on his way to get that 'medicine' tested."

"I never gave any of it to him."

Jonathan won't see it that way. The authorities surely won't be as kind as his brother. And if he gets caught- what then?

"So you give it to someone else- so some unassuming person is killing him."

Dio doesn’t respond. Do you really expect more of him? He’s proven to be capable of many things. You’ve long since learned he wants to be the sole heir to the Joestar estate. It was a given. Power is something he craves. As much as he jokes about world domination, there's always a serious tone behind them. In the beginning, it just seemed like his nature; he was always collected and intense. Some truth must have been behind them. He makes no attempt to hide that. But this...

Murder is a bit too cold-blooded for your tastes. Morally you don’t have the high ground. You don’t find yourself above much, but you'd like to think you're above murder. If its what you need to do to survive, you believe you'd give it a pass, but as the time comes you're less sure of it. Mr. Joestar gave Dio an opportunity that doesn’t even come once in a lifetime for many. It feels like a slap in the face, just adding insult to injury. This feels like betrayal in the purest sense of the word. While you aren’t close to his father, you have a bit of respect for the man. His death would not cause you the same grief as your own father’s, but you would be sad.

But he is old, and not all old people recover from illness.

Most of the estate would go to Jonathan upon his father’s death. Really, this seems short-sighted. As the younger son, Dio isn’t entitled to all that much. But getting rid of his brother might be easier said than done. Part of you is angry for how little he’s thought this through. Truly, you expected more from him. With as much as he schemes, you had expected a better plan.

Your reaction isn’t quite what he expected. Anything but blind love and acceptance is seen as betrayal to him. To you, everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong.

If he fails- if- there is no recovering from this. If he is caught, many signs point to you as an accomplice.

Silently he exits, leaving you alone in his dark room.

#jjba #jojo part 1 #phantom blood #jojo's bizarre adventure #dio brando #dio #dio brando x reader #dio x reader #jjba x reader #yandere dio brando #i guess???#yandare dio brando x reader #cw yandere #ik i abandoned this for a full month #but #its back #fem!reader

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thinkingisadangerouspastime · 3 years

Note

(pt 1) i really enjoy all your atla analyses & you've done a great job breaking down the usual arguments re how eip shows that kataang shouldn't have happened. i'm curious about your take on one specific argument that i just saw today, in an analysis of the show by a zker that was otherwise quite good and respectful (i know you've already talked about eip a lot, so no problem if you don't feel like rehashing). the premise: aang didn't just pressure katara in eip, he threatened her.

(pt 2) they point to when katara joins aang & asks if he’s alright: “aang: no, i’m not! i hate this play! katara: i know it’s upsetting, but it sounds like you’re overreacting. aang: overreacting? if i hadn’t blocked my chakra, i’d probably be in the avatar state right now!” the suggestion is he’s threatening her when he says ‘i’d probably be in the avatar state right now’ to describe his anger. i think this take exaggerates and oversimplifies it, but interested in your thoughts on it.

Hello my friend!! It is true I am Old inside and don’t like rehashing dhdlksjslks BUT your comments on my posts are always incredibly kind and insightful so I am more than willing to do a bit of rehashing for you 🥰 Besides! I’ve seen this general take before a few times and it’s always irked me for the exact reason you point out - it simultaneously exaggerates and oversimplifies the situation (and honestly that’s an impressive duality since it’s seemingly contradictory, so hats off to them lmaooo) - and now is as good a time as any to address it. So, for starters, let’s go ahead and get the excerpt they love to focus on so much:

Cut to Aang standing alone on a balcony. Katara enters and walks up to him.

Katara: Are you all right?

Aang: [Angered.] No, I’m not! I hate this play! [Yanks his hat off and throws it on the ground.]

Katara: I know it’s upsetting, but it sounds like you’re overreacting.

Aang: Overreacting? If I hadn’t blocked my chakra, I’d probably be in the Avatar State right now!

Here’s the thing about so-called analyses of this excerpt: in a manner extremely convenient to the poster, they never seek to contextualize this moment. (I mean, to do so would deplatform their entire “argument” - perhaps that’s why they avoid performing a full analysis?) So let’s avoid that pitfall from the start.

Firstly, below are some links to related posts; I’m going to do my best to summarize the most relevant parts, but for anyone who desires greater detail, I gotchu 😤

This post explains why EIP (the play, lol) is imperialist propaganda and is intended to belittle the entire Gaang.

This post explains how Aang never acted “entitled” to Katara’s affections, particularly in regard to EIP.

This post breaks down the infamous EIP kiss like Snopes Fact Checker, covering common misconceptions, important perspectives to consider, etc.

Alright. With that out the way, it’s time for some context.

Aang and Katara have this conversation on the balcony after watching 95% of “The Boy in the Iceberg,” a play chock-full of Fire Nation propaganda that demeans the entire Gaang in order to prop up the Fire Nation as superior (hence why the play ends with Ozai’s victory). Here is my general breakdown of Aang and Katara’s treatment in particular from a previous post:

- katara, an indigenous woman, is highly sexualized and portrayed as overly dramatic and tearful, because the fire nation objectifies women not of their own people and views them as less intelligent and less emotionally stable

- aang, the avatar, the sole survivor of the fire nation’s genocide of the air nomads who is incredibly in-touch with his spirituality and femininity, is portrayed as an overly-airy and immature woman. the fire nation portrays him with a female actor to demean him (like, that’s classic imperialistic propagandist tactics) and furthermore writing his character as a childish airhead reinforces the fire nation sentiment that the air nomads were weak, foolish people who did not deserve to exist in their world

In other words, these kids have just watched almost an entire play that preys upon their insecurities and depicts them using racist and sexist stereotypes about their respective nations. It is completely understandable that tensions might run a little high and that their interactions would not be as balanced as usual (Katara and Aang have a great track record of communicating well with each other, as it happens!).

So we have to keep that in mind when examining the aforementioned excerpt. But there are other factors to consider, too! Namely: they are kids. Children. Teens. Aang is 12, Katara is 14.

If we want to be scientific, a person’s brain doesn’t finish developing until they are 25, lmao, and the preteen/teen years are when the prefrontal cortex that controls “rationality,” “judgement,” “forethought,” etc. is still developing. This doesn’t mean Aang and Katara are irrational and make poor decisions 24/7 (obviously not), but it does mean that in an intense, highly emotional situation, like after watching a play that intentionally demeans them and depicts them as inferior, they are more likely to overreact, more likely to be emotional, and more likely to make mistakes. Like, I’m serious, lol. “Teens process information with the amygdala.” That’s part of the brain that helps control emotions! It’s why teens sometimes struggle to articulate what we’re thinking, especially in situations that require instinct/impulse and quick decisions, because we’re really feeling whenever we make those choices. Acting more on emotion. Our brains simply haven’t finished developing the decision-making parts, lmao.

In sum: Aang and Katara are both kids, not adults, and should be interpreted as such. This doesn’t negate their intelligence, because they are both incredibly smart and Aang is arguably the wisest of the Gaang, but they are human. Young humans. They have emotions, and we should not be so cruel as to assume they’d never act on them.

So taking that all together, we can now acknowledge the high stress Aang and Katara are under, understand why they might be upset (*cough* imperialist propaganda is hurtful *cough*), and examine how their youth might play into their emotional reactions. And funny thing - all analyses that come to the conclusion of Aang “threatening” Katara here do not usually bother with this context. I can’t imagine why!

And you know what, let’s add one more piece of context: Sokka states that Aang left the theater “like, ten minutes ago,” which is what cues Katara to go look for him on the balcony. The reason I mention this line is because to me, it suggests Aang knew he was more worked up than usual! He chose to separate himself from his friends so he could process his frustration! He did not take his anger at the play out on them; instead, he purposefully took time and space to be alone.

With that in mind, I don’t understand at all how Aang’s Avatar state quote could be interpreted as a threat? Canonly, Aang is someone who was aware enough of his frustration to separate himself from the others - yet the logical next step is him threatening Katara as a result? He knew his intense emotions were because of the play (which he says himself), so the logical conclusion is that he then pinned the fault on Katara? What?? Sorry, that interpretation has no textual basis, lmao. But I digress!

Aang tells Katara, “If I hadn’t blocked my chakra, I’d probably be in the Avatar State right now!” As you said, this is the line people point to in an attempt to justify their (baseless) conclusion that Aang is “threatening” Katara. So let’s bring in the two key pieces of context: imperialist propaganda and age. Given that Aang is 12, and given that Aang has just watched almost a full play that demeans him and everything his people stood for (and let’s not forget it also mocks his and Katara’s love for each other)…

His reaction is understandable. An exaggeration and needlessly dramatic, but understandable. He feels vulnerable and insecure and Aang is human. He is human and flawed and he overreacts here and I love that A:TLA shows how even our heroes, even people who are truly good at heart and in soul, can get overly upset (especially given the aforementioned circumstances!). Would Aang actually be in the Avatar state at that moment, had it been possible? Of course not! He’s young and he’s hurt and as such he says something dramatic to convey his anxieties and frustrations. The line is not meant to be taken literally, and seeing people do so despite all the factors that should be taken into consideration when analyzing it… Cue a long, tired sigh from me and so many other A:TLA fans.

And to be honest? I cannot fathom how people watch this episode and come to the conclusion that Aang is “threatening” Katara. To me, this episode - besides being a recap episode - is one that humanizes our cast even further. Aang snaps at Katara, kisses her when he shouldn’t (which the story appropriately treats as wrong). Katara pushes down her true feelings and retreats into herself, afraid to start a relationship with the boy she loves because she’s already lost him once before and can’t bear to do so again. Zuko further confronts the hurt he’s enacted upon others, especially upon Iroh. Toph practices being vulnerable and accepting vulnerability from others by conversing with Zuko. Sokka witnesses how others have erased his contributions and labelled him as nothing more than the token nonbender in the group. Even Suki learns that she is not the only person who holds a place in Sokka’s heart and that she can never replace what he has lost.

To watch this episode where our heroes must come to terms with how the Fire Nation deems them inherently inferior, with how they have more fights to overcome in the future with the Fire Nation than a single war, and to come to the conclusion that… that what, Aang is abusive? A monster? Irredeemable? That he would threaten his best friend, someone he loves in every way?

Wow. That says more than enough about the viewer, doesn’t it?

#getting back into the swing of things babey ✌️#aang #katara #kataang #kataangtag #the ember island players #atla #avatar the last airbender #amy answers #dramaticowl #amy analyzes #also i am speaking in GENERAL TERMS here lmaooo this is not a direct response to any one post 😂😂

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cutesuki--bakugou · 4 years

Text

Reckless

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rough Sex (Vaginal), biting, scratching, breeding, very minor mention of blood, degrading, dirty talk Words: 7812 Pairing: Dragon Fantasy AU Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Taking huge risks was never really your thing. All your life living in the castle, you always followed the rules of your role, never stepping out of bounds and never taking chances. You had always thought about it, asking for a different position or perhaps more pay, maybe even just a change in shift. But, in the end, you always decided that, not only was it not worth the possible outrage your superiors could slam upon you, but you could lose what made your position so absolutely wonderful. A change in your work life could rip you away from the presence of your Lord, who you had grown very attached to in an obviously one-sided romantic connection.

Working with him multiple times during the weeks he was present at the castle was like a dream you never wanted to let end. As a scholar and war strategist, you were his first line of contact when it came to important political or wartime plans, and you cherished the contact and respect he had for you. Your Lord wasn’t one to trust people easily, but with you, it was like he could share even his deepest worries and secrets without worry that you would betray him. Never in your life would you even consider doing such a thing, because in truth, you loved him.

There were many reasons why you shouldn’t be so enamored with him, but in the end, all they did was make your desires stronger. To the world, to his people and enemies, he was a ruthless brute. Conquering lands and expanding his territory was his constant goal, and even at his young age, he had been incredibly successful. His people respected him, his warriors would die for him, and his enemies cowered at his feet. It was so incredibly attractive to you, to watch him in action and know that you were helping him on this journey, that you were the one to help push him forward. No matter what other opportunities you knew you had, if you were to just simply ask, there wasn’t a chance in hell that you would take it. You didn’t take those risks because you wanted to be here, at his side as much as you were allowed.

Bakugou Katsuki was your Lord, but he was also the man that made your knees tremble with just a simple glance. He made you soft and filled with such a longing that made your chest ache terribly, and you craved to feel his hand against your skin. Anything would do. A simple touch on your arm. A brushing of his fingers against yours. A secure grip on your hips. A rough tug of your hair in his fist.

No, no! You couldn’t let your thoughts go that way. It was highly inappropriate for you to think that way of your Lord, even if he was the most attractive man you had ever laid eyes on. Your thoughts on him could click from cute to extreme lust in the time it would take you to blink, and they did so frequently, no matter how you tried to stop it. That adorable fluffy blonde hair matched with that piercing crimson gaze always had your heart racing, and the thick, muscular figure didn’t exactly quell your urges.

You tried everything you could think of up to this point to get over him. You saw other men who were just as equally built or with similar personalities, but none of them could match up to the way he made you feel without having ever even laid a finger on you. You could imagine in the moment that it was him touching you. Fucking you. They could quench your thirst when it was unbearable, but it was just never enough. You wanted to know what it was like to be closer to him. But how could you?

You had tried, with subtle hints or during moments of casual conversation that came up during your meetings. An innocent batting of your eyelashes or brushing of your hand along his arm that was, of course, completely accidental. A flirtatious smile. A sultry giggle. A peek down the front of your corset as you bent over the maps to talk strategies. In the end, it was impossible. Sure, you had caught him peeking at your skin or your curves when he thought you weren’t looking, but that wasn’t enough to convince you he was even remotely interested.

Although your body was on fire for him, it wasn’t all that you wanted. There were cute things about him that you had seen during the times you were alone with him. The way he covered his mouth when you said something that could make him laugh, or the excited grin that would break his face when you gave him good news. You had caught him napping on occasion, and his expression was so soft and calm. You knew there was more behind the short fuse and anger he carried, and it was something that you hoped to see one day. The softness that he had within him was fiercely protected, not only to keep up this image that he was a brutal man, but also because he just wasn’t ready to share those parts of him.

Especially not with someone whom he wasn’t romantic with, like yourself. He was calm and collected around you, sure, but that could purely be from the nature of your professional relationship. But what if it was more? What if he was really and truly comfortable around you? You could only hope so.

Hope wasn’t really working for you, however, and the longer you waited to do anything, the bigger your fears grew that he may pick a different woman. Bakugou was a Lord, someone who would need to have heirs to pass his lineage down to, and that meant that he would eventually need to have a wife and children. He had talked about it a few times with his advisors and counsel as far as needing there to be someone in case he was killed in battle or some other tragic event. Each time, he blew it off, but never gave any hints as to why he wasn’t actively searching.

Although he didn’t want a wife, that didn’t mean that he didn’t have women at his disposal. Being a very frustrated man, much of his stress relief was in the form of sex, and he had plenty of handpicked concubines to serve him. There was a special magic done on each one of them so they could not get pregnant by him, and that procedure was highly regulated by Bakugou and his advisors to make sure there would be no illegitimate children. In truth, you weren’t sure of the exact number of women he had at his beck and call, though you knew it was at least in the double digits by now.

There was a very good reason for that, and it wasn’t just because he grew bored with the women. Bakugou was dragon kin. That meant that he had powers, abilities, and features of a dragon while he was able to keep a mostly human form. Those included enhanced senses such as eyesight and smell. Sharp canines and nails that he tried desperately to keep trimmed. More strength and stamina. But, your favorite was something that you’re pretty sure he wasn’t even aware that you knew.

He purred. This strong, gruff, and rough man would occasionally purr. A deep, low rumble in his chest during moments of true relaxation or happiness. You had heard it a few times, when you caught him sleeping before a meeting, resting his head on his arms against the table. It was truly the most adorable thing you had ever heard, and you wondered if he was dreaming about something - or someone - special.

There was something less adorable that came along with his bloodline, and that particular thing was what affected the number of women he had in his life. Ironically enough, it was the urge to mate. He hated talking about it, so you didn’t know much, but he was frustrated how he felt like nothing but an uncontrollable animal during those few months. It was so difficult for him, in fact, that he locked himself away in his chambers until it was over, if he was able. If he had war or political things to attend to, then it was a decent distraction. But, when he didn’t have that, then all he could do was hide away with his women.

That’s why there were so many. His needs and urges were nearly insatiable during this time, and even if they could go for a while, the women would eventually need a break. It was an almost constant rotation, though you were never sure of exactly what went on behind those doors. You were free to imagine it in the comfort of your room, hand between your legs as you pictured him absolutely ravaging you from behind.

Although the thoughts of what he was doing in that room made your body incredibly hot, it also worried you. What if he had a favorite woman that was stealing his heart before you could even have the chance? They were all his body type, since he had picked them in the first place, and they were obviously fluent in how to pleasure him. What if they had a personality he liked, too? If that were so, how could you ever find a way to stand out or get his attention?

Well, you knew how.

You had to take a risk.

A huge one.

And that just wasn’t your thing.

That didn’t matter. If you wanted your chance with him, then you knew that you had to put yourself out there in a more… obvious way. You had to show him that you wanted him. Subtle hints just weren’t going to work anymore, if they had worked at all up to this point. It was time to literally jump into the lion's den - or, in this case, dragon’s den - and offer yourself to the beast. And, in reality, that wasn’t an exaggeration. He was in peak rut season right now, and from what you heard, he was absolutely feral. In fact, it was so intense this year that the male servants he had bringing him food had to literally run away before he ripped them to shreds in a territorial rage. There were even rumors that he was showing signs of dragon features that were rare for him, including scales along his skin. Those were just rumors, as far as you could tell, because some said he didn’t and some said he did.

It was of little consequence. You would see for yourself.

Although Bakugou was impossible to please during this time, he still kept up a schedule of sorts, and after some spy work, you learned that he actually had been sleeping most of the night and his concubines didn’t start showing up to his room until sunrise. That meant all you had to do was show up before that time. Right? An hour or two before anyone shows up would be plenty of time to see if he’d either take you or reject you.

So, dressed in nothing but a shift and a coat, you silently made your way through the castle to his chambers, avoiding others who may try to question you. Since it was so early in the morning, before sunrise, there weren't many people out, so the journey was less stressful than you had prepared yourself for. Though, you wished you had done more prepping to have enough bravery once you reached the entrance to his room. You had decided to not go through the main door, and since you knew the route that cleaning servants took and the location of the hidden door, this was a perfect plan to avoid being caught.

Even still, it took an incredible amount of courage to finally place your hands against the cold stone, nibbling at your bottom lip nervously. You had thought of everything that could go wrong already, and of course, it was rushing back to you like a violent storm. You could be fired. You could be killed. You could be banished. You could be simply rejected and forced to continue your normal life with an incredible sense of shame and regret. You could fall only further in love with him. He could admit his feelings for you. He could use you for his own uncontrollable sexual pleasure.

He could accept you.

That’s what kept you from running. There was still hope that he would take you as his woman, which you wanted more than anything.

You just prayed that you weren’t going to end up biting off more than you could chew.

After a final trembling breath, you carefully pushed the door open, just wide enough so you could fit through before shutting it behind you. Since it was made to be quiet, there was barely a sound in the dim light of the fireplace, which was blazing across the room. Soft, warm heat rolled across the large room, bringing relief to your cold bare feet and legs. In the flickering shadows, Bakugou’s large bed loomed over the room like a large hungry beast, the posts tall and reaching for the ceiling. The footboard that you could see was very ornate, with dragon bones, horns, and scales, which matched the color of the canopy drapes that hid the man inside.

Or, it would have. Much to your surprise, you could see rips and tears in the fabric as you stepped closer, which you assumed came from one of his many lustful sessions. There were pillows and blankets also scattered across the floor, abandoned in favor of sleep, and the remnants of his last meal were sitting on a table near the head of the bed.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

The dark growl of a voice startled you so badly that you jumped, stumbling back against the wall, eyes darting this way and that to find the source. In the darkest corner of the room, you could see Bakugou’s shadow-cloaked figure, his reflective pupils visible as he glared at you. Feeling heat rush to your cheeks as you tried to calm your racing heart, you placed your hands on your chest, keeping pressed up against the wall. Before finding the strength to answer, you looked over what you could see of his figure, only able to tell that he was perched up on a chair with his legs pulled up into the seat. It was a stiff and uncomfortable position, as if he were forcing himself to stay in place.

“I… I, uhm… Why are you awake so early?”

“Are you fucking serious? You’re walking into my room in the middle of the damn night, and you’re asking me why I’m awake?”

“I… I had just heard that you were having more trouble than usual. I hadn’t heard from you about any of the strategies I sent in and… I got worried.” You could hear the bullshit in your own voice, and you wanted to just bite your own tongue off. Already, you were chickening out of your plan, but his aggressive presence was more radiant than you expected. It was throwing off the small amount of confidence that you had gathered, which you knew you needed to get back as quickly as possible.

A low rumble escaped him as he lowered his legs to the ground, the growl sending a harsh shiver down your spine. It was so aggressive and intimidating that you nearly felt the need to cower down to the ground, but you kept yourself up on weak legs. It was odd, how he was both frightening you and filling you with a raging lustful fire at the same time.

Clutching at the front of your coat, you stepped away from the wall, but was once again startled to a halt by his voice.

“Bullshit. I know you. You’d just send a letter instead. That’s what you’ve always done when I’m like this. On top of that, you’re sneaking around the servant’s halls like a rat.” His teeth were visible as he snarled, clutching on tightly to the arms of the chair. “You think you’re being slick, huh?”

“I don’t know what you mean…”

“Yes, you do. You wanted me alone. Sneaky, figuring out my schedule and getting in here without anyone noticing. I’m both impressed and pissed off.”

“I… You’re right. I did want to come see you when no one would bother us.” Giving your bottom lip a nervous nibble, you began to unbutton the front of your coat, able to see him only further tense in his chair. “I wanted to… ask you something.”

Bakugou couldn’t take this. How in the hell could this really be happening? This had to be some type of dream, a hallucination brought on by his unquenchable need to breed. How could you actually be here, in his room, at the peak of his rut. It was so dangerous, and you needed to leave. Now, before he lost what little control he had. He wanted to tell you, to snap at you to fuck off, but the words just wouldn’t leave his lips.

He was too enamored already. Your scent filled his senses like the aroma of a delicious fruit, one which he craved to sink his teeth into and let the juices drip down his chin. Just the sight of you made him dizzy, so disheveled and vulnerable.

Unexpecting and unaware.

Beautiful and stupid.

So fucking stupid.

As your coat was shrugged off your shoulders, more of your scent wafted over him, forcing him to further dig his claws into the fabric of the chair to keep himself in place. With the light from the fire, your figure was visible to him as a silhouette beneath your white shift, giving him just a taste of that beautiful body he craved. If only you knew how badly he wanted you. How badly he had always wanted you. But it just hadn’t ever been the right time. He had never made the move.

Now, here you were, tired of waiting and willing to put yourself in such a compromising situation. Your years of flirting, teasing, and genuine care for him was always something he paid great attention to, and the feelings weren’t unwelcomed, like you must have assumed. Of course, he knew it was his fault for refusing to take that step you both craved.

Still…

This wasn’t the right time.

“Tell me what you want,” Bakugou growled, his heartbeat so loud in his ears he could hardly even hear himself. It pulsed through his entire body to his crotch, his cock already hard and straining painfully against the fabric of his sleeping pants. “You’re fucking stupid for coming here. Don’t you know what I could do to you?” Tell her to leave! “Don’t you know what’s wrong with me?” I need to throw her out! Fuck, I want her. I want her! Damn it!

Letting your coat fall to the floor, you took a few steps closer, swallowing the hard lump that had grown in your throat. “I just can’t wait to find out anymore, my Lord.” Growing shy, you timidly fiddled with the fabric of your shift, your body growing hotter with his reaction to the formality. Bakugou’s breathing grew incredibly heavy, his head hanging as he tried to not look at you.

“Don’t fucking… call me that… Don’t say that!” He spoke with a trembling, angry growl. “Just fucking tell me what you want!”

“Y-you! I want you! You oblivious jerk!”

“Oblivious?!” Bakugou barked, standing up so roughly that the chair toppled backwards behind him. The volume of his voice and the movement startled you enough to make you take a few steps back, bringing your hands up to your chest defensively. “I’m oblivious?! You moron! Look who’s just waltzed into my room knowing damn well I’m dangerous right now.”

“I don’t care,” you stood your ground as Bakugou began to come towards you, his hands balled into fists at his side. “I’m not scared of you. I know that you wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want.”

“You’re smart enough to know that I’m not completely myself right now. I don’t know what I could do.” His tall and broad stature was incredibly intimidating as he got closer, breaking your tough front and making you stumble over your feet stepping backwards. It wasn’t only his form that caught you off guard, but the intensity of his glare and the patches of crimson scales that broke his skin along his cheeks, chest, and shoulders.

It was true, what the servants had said about him. This was the worst he had been, probably ever, and you were truly curious as to why. Was his body really beginning to grow desperate to have an heir? Was the need to impregnate and breed worse because of his natural instincts, or was it because he knew who he wanted as his mate and he just hadn’t been able to have her?

Your back was once again pressed against the cold stone of the wall as Bakugou pursued you towards it, and in the next instant, you were trapped by his arms on either side of you, palms pressed against the rough surface. He was so close to you that if you relaxed your body, your chests would touch, and it was hard enough to keep the distance as your breathing grew heavy. “I… I know. But I don’t care. I came here now b-because… because you couldn’t ignore me or brush me off so easily.”

“That’s fucking bold of you. Reckless.”

“Why is it so reckless?” You relaxed a little, the warmth radiating from his body calming your momentary fears. “Other women can be with you… Why can’t I?”

“Are you serious? You’re comparing yourself to one of my whores? To a bitch I can snap my fingers at and have her at my feet? You think that lowly of yourself?”

Confused, you gave a small shake of your head, feeling an odd fluttering in your stomach. “That’s… I don’t mean that. I mean… it’s safe for other women, why couldn’t it be safe for me?”

“It’s not safe for them. Why do you think I have to rotate? I could hurt them. I have, however unintentionally. You’re not like them. Don’t compare yourself to them like this… It pisses me off.”

“Why?”

“Because I respect you.”

A fierce heat rushed to your cheeks, spreading across your skin to burn your ears and even your eyes. You had wanted this type of response from him, but it was still such a shock to hear it. Not exactly the love confession you were wanting, but it was something, and he hadn’t forced you out of the door just yet.

But there was something else, paired with his response that made your heart race. That glare, so dark and frustrated, had softened into what you could only describe as… gentle. There wasn’t a single crease or frown line on his gorgeous face, bringing such a sweetness to him. Even his pupils had relaxed, the thin reptile like slits now wide and blown out. There was more than just respect in that gaze.

“My Lord,” your voice hitched as he tensed at the formality, shifting half an inch closer to you as his pupils constricted. “There’s… more than just respect. Isn’t there?” Your final question wasn’t confrontational. Instead, it was worried, seeking the affirmation you had dreamt of.

“Of course there is. But I can’t do this now.”

Heart sinking, you slowly and carefully brought your hands up to caress his cheeks, but they didn’t stay in place long. The instant you touched his skin, Bakugou grabbed both of your wrists, forcing your arms up over your head against the wall. It was so quick that you barely had time to register what was happening before he began to speak again, a deep growl that you could even feel reverberating in your chest.

“I said I can’t do this now! Don’t just fucking touch me! You don’t understand!” Although he was saying these things, his body was betraying him, pressing in closer to you, one leg slipping between yours to further keep you in place. “I’m not me right now! I’m a fucking animal.”

“T-That’s not true!” The position of your arms was making it difficult to find the breath to speak, unable to resist wiggling in his grip uncomfortably. Your thighs clenched around his and your chest ached up against him, your lips permanently parted against your panting and struggles. “This is you! It’s a part of you, My Lord--”

“--Don’t call me that!”

“-- You have to accept it. I accept it. I want to be here for you.”

You had to stop. Bakugou had to make you stop. Somehow. He wasn’t going to be able to control himself much longer. That beautiful flushed and pleading expression. Your plush breasts pressing against him with every breath and wiggle. The scent of your arousal fogged his mind with every breath and he could hear your heartbeat, so rapid and desperate. He knew that he needed to make you stop this, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to stop.

No, at this point, he didn’t think he could stop. How much he adored you was swirling with the fierce need to fill you with his seed, to fuck you for hours on end until you were absolutely filled to the brim. He wanted to mark you, sink his fangs into your soft flesh, taste your sweet essence, and hear you scream his name.

More than anything, he wanted to have you as his mate. His lover. His queen. All these years of having you by his side had always felt so natural, like you were always meant to be there. Now, he had you, so willing and accepting of him even in his darkest moments. Was this really okay? Could he really let himself take you now, when he was unsure of what was love and what was lust?

Frustrated, Bakugou pressed his forehead against yours, clenching his eyes shut tightly to alleviate the red from his vision. Trying to restrain himself so intensely was beginning to grow painful, his muscles and joints aching from the need to just devour you. Even your lips barely brushing against his was enough to send shocking tingles through every nerve, urging him to taste you.

I shouldn’t do this.

But I need her. I want her!

I could hurt her! She doesn’t know what I could do.

She’s not protected by the magic… She could become pregnant--

“Katsuki.”

The sultry sound of his name coming from your lips instantly snapped his restraint like a twig, not even opening his eyes as he kissed you roughly. The feeling of his hot lips against yours made you immediately melt into him, moaning softly with the first rough nibble to your bottom lip in a demand for access. The kiss was sloppy and wet, with little direction except the mutual cravings to taste each other. You couldn’t help but wonder for a moment if he kissed the other women like this, so fierce and passionate, with an unrelenting aggressiveness that made you feel weak in the knees.

Unable to move or find a moment to breathe, you began to struggle again, trying to tug your arms down out of his grip to at least be able to hold him. You had no luck. Instead, he moved to grip both of your wrists with one hand, his other roughly gripping your neck and pressing you back against the wall with a frustrated growl. “You trying to escape me?” His lips left yours, pressing against your flushed cheek with a wicked smirk. A low rumbling began in his chest, a deep and hungry purr that was completely different from the sweet and innocent sound you had heard in the past. “My little pet… You can’t get away, now.”

A soft whimper escaped you, biting down onto your bottom lip as Bakugou ran his tongue along your cheek to your ear, leaving a hot trail of saliva in his wake. “I-I’m not…” You relaxed your head back against the stone, looking up at the ceiling as his tongue slid along the shell of your ear. The pain of his teeth pulling on your earlobe was paired with the pleasure of his knee pressing up into your sex, your clit immediately met with the friction of his pants as there was no underwear to create a barrier.

Able to feel your heat against his leg, his purr only grew deeper, his hand leaving your throat to move down your body. His touch was hot and rough, caressing your figure and digging his sharp nails into your plush areas that he deemed worthy of a squeeze. You couldn’t help but continue to whine and wiggle with the slight pain, only further pleasuring yourself against his leg. “K-Katsuki--”

“Don’t be shy,” Bakugou spoke in your ear, his hot breath running down your neck. “You want me? Show me how much of a horny bitch you are.” His hand set firm on your hip, his teeth lightly scraping along the skin of your jaw. “C’mon, pet. You were so desperate to have me, now you do.”

God, your body was so hot. Every inch of you felt like a raging inferno, and the fire had nowhere else to escape but between your legs. Your sex was throbbing and aching, absolutely begging for his touch. The need was too much, so you began to roll your hips, grinding yourself eagerly against his leg.

“That’s it,” Bakugou released your wrists, tugging your body in closer while still forcing you to straddle his leg. Now, however, each roll of your hips had you pressing into his cock, his girth impressive from what you could feel. Your head free for the moment, you took the chance to look down, eyes glancing over his muscular torso before focusing on the bulge in his pants. The grey fabric was taut against the form of his cock, and was dark with wetness from where you assumed the head to be. You wanted to touch him, to feel him throb in your hands, but you found that they were otherwise engaged.

You were forced to hold on tightly to his shoulders to keep yourself balanced, since Bakugou was doing little to help you. He had both his hands on your ass, holding and squeezing while you fucked his thigh. His lips were still at your neck, growling and panting against your skin with each moment of pressure against his cock. Listening to him, you started to feel lost in the moment, loosening up to instead wrap your arms around his neck. Though, with a sudden rough bump of his leg into your sex, you released a loud moan near his ear, which was quick to set him off again.

Taking the back of your shift into his hands, he ripped the thin fabric open, exposing your back to the chill of the room. “A-ah, Katsuki-- Wait--” Removing his leg from between yours, you found your front pressed into the wall, the torn shift falling in loose rags against your body. Standing behind you, Bakugou kept one hand on your back between your shoulders to make sure you couldn’t move, while his other trailed down your back and to your hip. He left light marks along your skin from his nails, but those really weren’t what he was focusing on. That perfect curve and dip in your back. The shape and plushness of your perfect ass. The light glistening off your skin where your essence had spread across your sex and down your thighs.

“So pretty,” Confident that you weren’t going to move, he released your back to grip your ass in both hands, spreading you open to see every inch of you. You couldn’t stop the twitching of your pussy at his touch, his thumbs so close that your body instinctively arched out more for him. The effort paid off for a moment, his thumbs slipping into your folds to pull your pussy open nice and wide for him. “Fuck… How many other cocks have filled up this pretty pussy?”

Turning your head a bit to look at him over your shoulder, you caught his piercing glare, feeling your core twist at the sight. “N-not that many… They can never satisfy me.”

Leaning forward, Bakugou pressed his lips roughly against your cheek, his hips grinding into yours and digging the length of his cock against your sex. “And none of them ever will,” He growled into your ear. “You’re mine. And once I’m done with you, all you’ll be able to think about is my cock. You’re going to be so fucking marked up and covered in my cum no other man will ever think about touching you.”

“I don’t want any other man. I only want you.”

“Good girl.” Another lick and bite on your ear made you moan softly. “My little pet… My pretty mate.” His hands left you for only a moment to pull his pants down, finally freeing his hard and throbbing cock. It came to rest for a moment between your cheeks, giving you a decent look at it once he sat up from leaning over you. His length and girth matched the size and muscular figure of his body, making your entire body quiver with a mix of excitement and worry.

“S-so big…” Your voice came out as a trembling whisper, though you had expected it to stay in your mind as a mere thought. Bakugou chuckled, slowly running his tip along your wet slit, teasing your clit.

“We’ll see if it’s everything you’ve dreamt about.” Without any further warning, Bakugou began to push his cock into you, the tightness of your cunt pulling a sharp hiss from his mouth. “Oh fuck…!”

The feeling of him entering you immediately made you feel breathless, gasping and digging your nails into the stone wall. “A-ah, wait--! It’s so big! I-I’m not,- I can’t-!”

“You said you could take it, my pet. So take it.”

With a sharp snap of his hips, Bakugou buried himself completely within you, making you cry out and nearly collapse as your knees tried to buckle out from under you. There wasn’t another second that passed before he began to fuck you, holding your hips steady with a fierce grip. It was so much at once that your mind was already going blank, the initial uncomfortable feeling of being so incredibly full beginning to morph into an unrelenting pleasure. It left you completely breathless, barely able to find the strength to stay standing. All you could do was moan.

“How does that cock feel inside you, huh? You like being fucked like the horny bitch you are?” A rough slap to your ass made your voice squeak, and you somehow found the conscious strength to look back at him over your shoulder.

“I-it feels good! M-my Lord, do whatever you want with me!” You gasped as your hair was suddenly in his fist, pulling you back up against his torso. Hand wrapping around your throat, he continued to thrust into you, his lips at your ear as his deep grumbling purr began again.

“Don’t fucking call me that. What is my name?”

“K-Katsuki-!” It was almost impossible to speak through the grip he had on your neck, and mixed with the breathlessness brought on by the pleasure, you weren’t sure if you were even going to stay conscious.

“Say it again.”

“Katsuki!”

“And what am I?”

“M-my mate! Katsuki, please, I--” As your eyes began to roll back, you found your body floating in a hazy sea of pleasure, the lack of steady oxygen making you oblivious to everything else. It had already been building up in your core, pushing you closer and closer towards release, but you just weren’t there yet.

“Are you going to cum already, my little pet?” His nails dug into the skin of your neck, making you wince and whine from the pain. Yet, you didn’t hate it.

“M-more! Katsuki, please- A-ah! Fuck!” Releasing your neck, he grabbed both of your wrists and pulled them back, forcing you to bend over. With this new leverage, he slammed his cock so deep and hard into you that you couldn’t even find the air to moan. Head hanging, you watched his muscular legs and the way your arousal dripped from your ravaged pussy behind blurry, teary vision, only able to take a split second to be amazed at how truly turned on you really were. You were the hottest you had ever been in your entire life, so needy and aching for any attention or passion Bakugou would throw your way. It didn’t matter what he wanted to do to you. You would take it all just to finally be one with him.

Each thrust inside of you had your pleasure spiking, the coil within your core growing tighter and tighter, until the tension was too much to bear. When it finally broke, your body reacted without any conscious thought, twitching and trying desperately to escape the pleasure as he only continued to pound into you against the constricting of your walls. “Ka- a-ah! N-no, wait--!”

“Not so fast, my pet,” Bakugou used his grip on your arms to yank you backwards, one hand firmly on your throat. His other arm latched around your hips, keeping you in place while continuing to roll and dig his cock deep inside you, pressing against that delicious spot that drove you mad. “Fuck, your pussy feels so good squeezing my cock like that. You’re so damn perfect, I just want to fill you up until you’re dripping with my cum.”

“F-fill me up, Katsuki-!” You gave a choked moan as his grip tightened on your neck, his deep, grinding movements returning to the erratic and rough thrusts. You could tell that, in that moment, the thought of pleasuring you at all had completely left him. All that was on his mind now was doing just as he wanted, just as you had asked him to, and you were at his mercy. Even his teeth sinking into the skin of the crook of your neck didn’t deter the pleasure for you, the sudden spike of pain only making you arch your hips up even more for him, up on your tiptoes as far as you could possibly get.

With the movement, Bakugou released a frustrated growl mixed in with his groans and sighs of pleasure, his teeth only sinking further into your skin. The warmth that spread down your collarbone told you that he must have broke skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat that filled your womb in the next instant. The cum that coated your pulsing walls was hotter than anything you had ever felt, bringing a gasp from your hoarse throat. Desperately trying to clutch on to anything that you could to help distract you from the feeling, you snatched onto the arm of the hand that held your neck, clawing at his skin.

“H-hot, oh fuck- it’s so hot!” Although at first it was an uncomfortable sensation, you were slowly enveloped by the warmth, spreading through every inch from the belly out. When you began to relax, your eyes grew heavy, loosening your tense posture to rest back against Bakugou’s broad chest. “So hot… It’s nice…”

Teeth still in your skin, Bakugou began to purr, that same deep and rough sound that vibrated all through your body. Releasing your neck, his hand moved down your body, coming to a stop on your stomach. “Mm…” He smirked against your bleeding skin, running his tongue along the wound. “Delicious… You’re going to look so fucking beautiful when you’re carrying my children.” As he pulled his still hard cock out of you, his cum began to dribble down your trembling thighs, wondering for a moment just how much he had released.

Mind still hazy from the pleasure and the heat, you brought a hand up to tangle into his hair, turning your head to catch his lips. The metallic, sweet taste of your blood of his lips and his tongue were of no consequence, moaning softly against the kiss as both of his hands gripped and squeezed your breasts eagerly. From the feeling of his cock still between your thighs, hard and pulsing, you knew that this wasn’t over. You didn’t want it to be over. He had felt so heavenly inside of you, his attention and affection, however rough it may be, was filling your heart to the brim.

“I want to… Katsuki, please pick me! I want to always be at your side, to be your wife and carry your children.” You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Please make me your mate!”

There wasn’t another word shared between you as he kissed you, cupping your backside to scoop you up into his arms. Legs hooking around his waist, he carried you towards the bed, the plush softness of the blankets against your back lost to the euphoria that was his body intertwined with yours.

…

Bakugou wasn’t sure the time of day when he finally came out of his haze. The red that had blurred his vision had subsided in a sudden flash of white, finding that he was panting quite heavily, his forehead pressed into soft flesh. His consciousness returned to him slowly with the final pounding waves of his orgasm, his cock buried deep within the still twitching and constricting walls of a woman. No, not just any woman. It was his woman. You.

Slowly, he felt tired arms wrap around him, softly stroking up and down his scratched and sweaty back. With this movement, his head was gently pushed further against wherever he rested, which became clear by the pulsing against his lips that it was your neck. With a deep groan, Bakugou kissed your skin softly, working his way up along your jawline to your cheek. Your fingers in his hair made him feel so calm and secure, more than he had ever felt in the weeks since his rut first started.

It was odd. Usually, Bakugou could never stop once he got going. At least, not without using extreme self-control. He would need to keep going until his body was at its limit, but now, there was nothing. All that was left was this overwhelming softness, an urge to protect, and a love that he had refused to accept all these years. You were something so special to him, so incredibly precious, and you were his. All his.

Is that why he finally felt at peace? Is this what he had been missing? Are you what he had been craving for all this time?

The unfamiliar butterflies fluttering about in his stomach were proof enough, bringing him to nuzzle his nose against your cheek as your hand softly stroked his. It was then that the uncontrollable soft rumble began in his chest, which was the complete opposite of the aggressive purr he had been making most of the morning. He finally had you. And he was happy.

“Katsuki,” You spoke in a hoarse whisper, turning your head a bit to finally catch his gaze. “What’s that cute noise you’re making?” Your continued touch along his cheek made him realize that his scales had finally subsided, figuring he was mostly back to normal for the time being. How bad he had gotten, he really couldn’t remember, and just hearing how faint your voice was made him worry.

“Fuck off, you know what it is. Are you alright?”

Clearing your throat, you nodded, smiling against his lips. “I’m fine, Katsuki. Perfect, actually. I’ve never been happier… But I am pretty thirsty.”

“You look it.” Carefully moving some hair out of your face, Bakugou placed a kiss on your lips before sitting up from you, removing his member as well. As he flopped to sit on the bed, he felt a twinge of true concern while looking you over. “Fuck. I was way too damn aggressive.” Bruises, bitemarks, and red scratches littered your beautiful skin, your neck and thighs being the areas that received the most abuse. Shiny with sweat, you were truly a sight to behold, and the amount of his cum that stained your body and pooled between your legs was more than he had seen in a while. You were beautiful and ruined. Marked and scratched. And all his.

“Oh, I really don’t mind.” Sitting up, you lightly ran your fingers along a bite mark on the top of your left breast. “I didn’t know what to expect coming in, but… it really did feel amazing. I’ll be sore, but it’s worth it!” Smiling, you reached over and took both of his hands tenderly, bringing one up to softly kiss his fingers. “Mm… I’m so happy…”

With only a light tug on your hand to beckon you forward, Bakugou let his arms rest around your waist as you straddled his lap, facing him. A soft kiss was shared as you rested against him, the purr returning. “I am, too. It was a stupid fucking thing for you to do, but… I’m glad you took the risk of coming here.”

“You were pretty much moving subconsciously through most of it, though, right?”

“Hm… I mean, I remember some things, and the feelings, but that animalistic part of me was… really strong.”

“I was just gonna say that… it was super cute when you kept calling me your mate,” You couldn’t resist a smile as Bakugou’s cheeks flushed, the color spreading to the tips of his ears. “And you were calling me your pet.”

“Ah... Well, so what if I was?!” Bakugou’s embarrassment instantly had him feeling defensive, even as you laughed and hugged him tightly. “I wanted you, alright?! And not just right then, for fucking years! I was excited-- stop laughing at me!”

You nuzzled your nose against his neck, sighing in happiness as you closed your eyes. “Aahh, Katsuki… you’re so cute. I’m so happy that you picked me, out of all the women you could have.”

“There’s no other woman I’d ever want than you. How about we clean up and get some food. I think we could both use some rest. My beautiful mate…”

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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Hey there! Admittedly I'm a little bit nervous since this is my first ask, but I'll try to not be too rambly.

So, recently the main subreddit, r/RWBY, made a ban on active users of the r/RWBYcritics subreddit. As a result there's been discussion around bad-faith criticism in the latter subreddit. What are your takes on bad-faith criticism?

For me personally, I think a bunch of people are misusing the term "bad-faith" and using it as a way to shut down criticism, but I'm curious to hear your thoughts on it.

Hey there, everyone! We woke up to some drama this morning, huh? And hello to you too, Tortoise! I'm so glad you decided to send in an ask, even if it's following some pretty tumultuous events...

Right, I'd like to start with a story. The story of how I personally don't spend time on Reddit, but I have plenty of friends who will occasionally cross-post something for me to see. Yesterday (or the day before? Idk time is meaningless) a friend told me about a post — which, significantly, I'm now having trouble finding — that covers RWBY's inconsistent writing and the fandom's tendency to try and explain away those missteps. They'd thought I'd be interested because I'd just had a conversation here on tumblr where I made that exact point to someone who, also significantly, vehemently disagreed with me, but in a very civil fashion. Given everything going on, I feel like this side point needs emphasis: we debated, we did so in a sometimes heated, but nevertheless respectful manner, it was clear neither of us was going to sway the other, and the conversation ended. The two "sides" of the community interacted without Armageddon coming about.

But back to the purpose of this tale. I went to take a look at this point and found that it no longer exists. There's just some vague message about it not obeying the subreddit's rules. "What happened?" I asked. "Why'd they take the post down?" "People were getting too heated in the comments," my friend replies. So, given that the comments were still visible, I proceeded to read through them, expecting personal attacks, slurs, harassment, etc. Any number of things that would justify deleting the post itself to put an end to such behavior. Instead, I found a thread of people having a conversation. Was the conversation heated at times? Sure. Did one or two individual posters edge into the realm of petulant, "No. You're wrong and stupid" responses? Yes. Was any of this remotely what I was expecting given the post's removal? NOPE.

"This isn't allowed?" I said. "Well then what is? People were being civil! Or at least as civil as hundreds of strangers ever get when discussing a series they're passionate about online."

Then, this morning, I hear that the entire critic subreddit has been banned.

So to answer your question, Tortoise, I don't actually think that "good faith" criticism exists. Meaning, it's not just that fans are misusing the term "bad faith criticism," but rather that there is no unified, agreed up method of writing criticism that will meet their standards. It's not possible and we know it's not possible because fans have been trying to meet those elusive standards for years:

A fan posts nothing but praise for RWBY until changes make them criticize the show as it is now. Their entire body of work is dismissed as the product of a "hater," despite the overwhelming gap between positive and negative reviews.

A fan posts a review that's a pretty balanced mix between praise and criticism. They're dismissed because it's still too much criticism.

A fan posts a review that's 99% praise with 1% criticism. That's still too much, with fans focusing on the single problem they had with the work and using it as an excuse to dismiss the entire review out of hand.

(As an aside, the argument that critics are "obsessed" with only saying negative things and that the only problem here is that they're "too" negative ignores the argument that... RWBY has a lot of flaws nowadays. Few are willing to acknowledge the possibility that it's not fans insisting on making things up to be mad about/ignoring the good parts of the show, it's the that show is, as of now, legitimately more of a mess than it is a praise-worthy product. If I'd been writing recaps in the Volumes 1-4 days, my work would have been skewed far more towards the positive. The critics' stance is that RWBY has gotten worse, which yes, results a higher volume of critical posts. To say nothing of how criticism takes far longer to explain, likewise resulting in posts focused primarily on that side of the divide. I really enjoyed the image of a crying Jaune reflected in his sword. I did not enjoy that moment's context. Saying that you liked an animation choice is a one sentence thing. Explaining the complexities of Jaune securing emotional moments, the problems with Penny's second death, the hurt many fans experienced watching an assisted suicide, etc. takes a whooole lot longer. Hence, you get massive, multiple posts about these nuanced topics and fewer, smaller posts about the details that are working well.)

A fan talks about a topic that has been metaphorically banned by the fandom as a whole. They have something good to say about Ironwood. They dislike something about Blake/Yang. They enjoyed Adam as a character. They have a problem with Ruby's leadership, etc. There's a whole list of topics nowadays that will result in an automatic dismissal, regardless of the point the fan is trying to make or how well they make it.

A fan talks about the minority representation of RWBY — its black characters, its queer characters, its disabled characters, etc. — and as a result has something to say about the biases and missteps of those writing these characters. This is considered an attack on the writers and, therefore, automatically bad.

A fan talks about how they enjoyed RWBY as it was years ago and is having trouble reconciling the dark, complicated story with the simple, hopeful one we started out with. This is seen as an attack on Monty's vision and an unwillingness to accept that "everything is planned."

A fan does as asked and ensures that their post is meeting all the requirements of "real" criticism. They have an argument to make. They have a point. They provide evidence. They recommend a solution. They keep their tone respectful. They don't attack the creators. They provide disclaimers in every single paragraph about how they do not hate RWBY. It doesn't matter. They're considered too negative.

I have, quite literally, seen every one of the above examples on multiple occasions. I have had many of the above accusations leveled at my own work. When fans say that they're fine with criticism provided it's not "bad faith" criticism, they don't actually have a specific post-type in mind; a checklist of behaviors another fan can emulate and, provided they do that, no hate will come their way. Or, if an individual fan does actually go, "Yeah. That criticism I'm fine with" that response is in no way universal. One person's "They make a good, civil point" is another person's, "Omg stop bashing the show!" Because "bashing" has come to mean everything from curse-laden insults towards everything RWBY has ever done, to posts that just happen to say something other fans don't agree with.

It's a rigged game. There is no way to post criticism about RWBY in an agreed-upon, appropriate manner. This recent ban is proof of that. I think it's incredibly telling that almost immediately after I was going, "Wow. A pretty calm debate about the flaws of RWBY in the main sub. That's great to see," all posters from the criticism subreddit were banned. The main sub literally just had the sort of criticism that they claim to accept — people respectfully posting analysis-based arguments resulting in calm debate — and yet they implemented the ban anyway. I'm not going to pretend that I've never gotten too heated on my own posts, never made snarky comments when I'm frustrated, never used exaggerated reaction GIFs that can come across as insulting... but I'd say on the whole my RWBY work is precisely the sort of "good faith" criticism that other fans are supposedly looking for. I never make an argument I don't think I can back up with evidence. I try to allow for the nuance and differing opinions of complicated topics. I try — even if I don't always succeed — to write in a clear, respectful manner. Yet none of that work has stopped people from telling me I'm a "bitter... raging asshole," a "deranged, delusional psychopath," telling me to set myself on fire, threatening to smash my head in, or just messages to straight up kill myself. If someone like me who legitimately works hard to create fair, defendable criticism and who only ever posts on a personal blog that people can easily block, who never engages in debate until someone else starts it first, never seeks out other fans I disagree with to harass them about what they like... if someone like me is still a "bad faith" critic who "deserves" that kind of hate mail... then what kind of criticism do people want?

Nothing. That's the answer. No criticism whatsoever, of any kind, no matter if it's delivered respectfully, is making a good point, whatever. That's why "RWDE" was created. That's why the critic subreddit was created. The community at large has demanded a complete separation between Praise and Anything That's Not 100% Praise, which has now resulted in this ban. Any other explanations we see are excuses, which becomes glaringly obvious when you look at the mods' supposed reasons for implementing the ban:

"Constant arguments with r/RWBY users" - As opposed to the arguments surrounding things like shipping that never, ever happen?

"Vote manipulation and comment brigades" - The subreddit with 3,000 participants, with around 200 on at a time, is manipulating the votes of a subreddit with 155,000 participants, with over 1,000 on at a time? Those numbers just do not check out. If a positive post is downvoted, or a critical post upvoted, maybe that's because large swaths of the community actually agree/disagree with that assessment, not because the incredibly smaller group is somehow manipulating things.

"Attacking and harassing those they disagree with" — Again, as opposed to those non-critics that never, ever harass people? This is an individual problem, not a community problem. Both critics and non-critics have their sub-groups acting in ways they shouldn't. If anything, the main sub will have more individuals harassing other fans, simply by virtue of being so much larger. As the above examples attest, it's not other critics who have told me to light myself on fire and, just to be clear, the asks I've responded to are a miniscule number compared to the amount I've received. I delete the lion's share for my own sanity and to save my followers from reading the really graphic threats.

"Months-long NSFL spam brigades" — I am, admittedly, not sure what this is referring to. Spamming of NSFW content? If so, that's also an individual problem.

"Homophobic, transphobic, and racist attacks towards our users" — See the above points. Again. If someone is being homophobic, transphobic, or racist, then yes please, ban them. Don't ban an entire community for the actions of a few. It's like walking into a store and banning a customer for causing a scene... but then also banning everyone else who happened to be shopping at the same time. It's guilt by association.

The silver lining to all this? The community as a whole isn't pleased. At least according to the main subreddit comments and a few individual voices like MurderofBirds. Despite the increase (from my perspective anyway) of critical voices post-Volume 8, criticism of RWBY is still very much seen as taboo. As this ban showcases. But it's really reassuring to see so many fans, critics and non-critics alike, going, "This was a mistake." A community is meant to include all aspects of engagement: praise, criticism, and the gray area between. If anything, fans like the mods of the main subreddit should be creating a separate subreddit that is specifically for praise. In the same way that there should have been a tag for RWBY praise, rather than trying to eliminate any and all criticism from the main "RWBY" tag. The majority of fans, even those who claim to hate critics and all they (presumably) stand for, recognize that a blanket ban of all criticism is not the way to go, especially when "criticism" has come to have such a staggeringly broad definition. If you want your RWBY experience to be nothing but sunshine and roses (ha), then cultivate your own internet experience to reflect that. Create your own pockets with rules about how this is the space for praise and if you're not up for praising RWBY right now, don't interact with us in this particular space. Don't try to make the entire community — the main tools used to discuss the show online — conform to your preferences. As established, there is no "good" criticism that everyone in the fandom will accept, which just leaves a fandom with no criticism at all. I'm glad to see I'm far from the only one who, when presented with that extreme, is going, "Nope. No thank you."

#rwby #mymetas #suicide tw #rwde

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harmoni-me · 3 years

Text

Byakuya Togami x Ultimate Hacker Reader!

Hey! I’m back from a mental break and I’m rip, roarin’ and ready to write again! Though I might take awhile to post now due to me wanting to me time for art, I’ll still give this account the love and attention it needs to give people joy! Anyway, enjoy this little fluffy read of our favorite corporate entity <3

“For the love of god PLEASE work with me….” you sat at the front of your large three monitor build, with each of them set up to reveal lines upon multi-colored lines of jumbling code. Your knowledge of Python and Java were on the brink of becoming something less than fluent from every sip of the sickeningly sweet energy drink that sweat on your spare mousepad.

It was no exaggeration how jittery you were right now. I mean, you just chugged three caffeinated-stuffed drinks, your mind was ecstatic with what was going to happen after the code had rendered, and also it was 2 am. Though this was bound to happen, with you being the number one hacker in the country, sleepless nights were a given.

But, this little project was mainly for yourself, since you were finished with all the rest of your clients.

Basically, you were trying to hack into Japan’s DIET building treasury databases to see if you could hack the Japanese stock market to temporarily crash, then shoot up into the sky, then somehow sell all of your investments within an x amount of time that this code would provide for you.

So, yeah, that’s another reason why you’re a little on edge…

The rendering was about fifty percent completed, and to say you were having a heart attack was an understatement. You could get arrested for life, maybe assassinated in the night, kidnapped, used as a hostage, maybe even be written about in the newspapers. You spun out of your chair and started anxiously speed-walking from one end of the room to another.

“Holy shit, why did I even go through with this. I’m so stupid it’s not even funny. Oh! The precious PubSec members, take me now!” you sang, crazily talking to yourself as some sort of comforting mechanism. You glanced over to your monitor to see that the loading was buffering a bit, so the rendering had only jumped to 60%.

“You know, I really should have thought of a plan B on this one-” A knock sounded from your bedroom door, echoing and reverberating in the hollow portions of your brain.

“Y/N. What in the world are you doing?” a voice rang from the outside of your room.

“Oh shit…” a realization struck like a bullet in the head. You scurried over to the door, leaning into it while your hand was on the door knob.

“Ahahaha, I-I was just about to go to bed, Byakuya! I was just talking to myself because, you know, I’m an introverted hermit who loves stupid letters and numbers! So, uh, night!” You belched out the words so unconvincingly that it made your stomach cringe in disgust. Whelp, you were definitely screwed.

“Y/N. Let me in…” Byakuya sternly replied. He obviously was not having it, as always when it came to your...personal hacking shenanigans. The last time Byakuya walked in on one of your hacking extravaganzas was when you hacked into the Pentagon. It ended in success, but your husband presented you with a hell of a lot of lectures on the punishment of the law, and how your hacking fun could affect the Togami family.

Like that was going to stop you from making fat bucks.

“Ok….but promise not to freak out too much and take it out on me?” You pleaded through the door, not wanting Byakuya’s harsh words to affect you at this hour of the night, and the situation that you're in.

“It’s all on you whether you get scolded or not.” Byakuya said, frustration present in his voice. You shifted your weight more onto the doorknob, and turned to see that your rendering had reached 70%. Why were you so loud when you talked to yourself?

“I won’t let you in unless you promise me...please…” You mumbled, a bit of your guilt dripping in your words. You heard a heavy sigh on the other side, then a stand-still of silence following after.

“I...promise. Can I come in now?” Byakuya’s voice softened up, making your tense frame unwind from the now more comfortable atmosphere.

You creaked open the door just a bit, peaking out to see your husband with messy, freshly-washed hair, and comfy clothes that he would only dare put on when he planned to go straight to bed.

“You have to pinky-swear on it.” You stuck your arm out of the crack of the door, sticking your pinky finger out as a treaty of promise to Byakuya. The blonde just chuckled tiredly, lazily latching his pinky with yours, and shaking it a little as confirmation.

“It’s a deal, now what did you do this time?” Byakuya strutted into your room, now having access to your coding domain. He automatically directed his attention to your multitude of computer screens, all of them running at full power to run the code you had just implemented into the DIET building security firewalls. You walked over to him, slightly nervous from what you had to break down to him, because you KNEW he would understand all of it, and would most likely be in flames about this little project you had going on.

“Alright, so I basically got bored and I didn’t really have any clients, so I did something...questionable.” You started off, swaying back and forth with your nerves tickling your stomach.

“Define ‘questionable’” Byakuya asserted, crossing his arms and shifting his weight onto one side.

“I might have created an AI program that will hack itself into the firewall of Japan’s national DIET treasury building to temporarily crash the stock market for a small increment of time, then make it shoot back up the charts so I can sell all of the cheap as hell stock I would buy when it crashed and-”

“I’ve...heard enough” Byakya raised his voice, but not in an aggressive way, but more of a shocked sort of fashion. The heir started to massage his temples with his middle and index finger, staying quiet the whole time while doing so.

You shuffled closer to the man, bowing your head down in shame. You knew you shouldn’t have done something so impulsive to simply just keep your fingers warm and your brain entertained. You should have read that book that Byakuya recommended, or maybe baked a little cake and decorated it with fun colors, or finished that movie series that you were meaning to complete-

Your rushing and regretful thoughts snapped and turned into dust when you felt warm arms around your frame. It was delicate, yet it pulled you in, as if protecting your from the outside world and the horrors it beheld.

“A promise from the Togami family will never be broken, and I also just happen to despise yelling at you, so...I just want to remind you of something.” Byakuya’s low, grumbly, and tired voice had kicked into gear, making his droopiness contagious to yourself.

“I never planned on marrying someone who I couldn’t protect with my life.” Byakuya let out a weary sigh, “But, when you do things like this, there is only so much I can do. You know the consequences, and I’m just…” Byakuya paused, leaving your heart feeling even heavier than it was before.

“I’m worried about what could happen to you, Y/N. I nark on you because I care. What a husband I would be if I simply let you be arrested, or beheaded, or whatever it may be.” The hold on you only grew stronger, yet it was as if you felt wrapped in a shield against any opposition.

“I worry, I scold, and I try my damned hardest to protect you all because I care. I don’t want anybody to take you away from me, alright? Remember that.” Byakuya’s hand tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and gently kissed your forehead, conveying the words into an action that anyone could understand.

“I’m sorry, Byakuya. What I did was impulsive and stupid and-”

“Did you make sure to code your coverups?” Byakuya suddenly spoke, a serious look in his eyes.

“Well, yeah. It would be kinda stupid if I didn’t-”

“Then it’s settled, you crash the economy, and I’ll monitor. Just don’t do something like this ever again, or you're going to have to sit through something that’s way worse than a lecture on the law, am I clear?” Byakuya let go of your body, and walked over to your workspace to apparently ‘Monitor’ the situation you were about to dive yourself into.

“I can’t really say for sure that I can keep that promise for that long…” You plopped yourself in your comfortable office chair, spinning yourself in the direction of your now only slightly drowsy husband.

You heard Byakuya grumble from your answer, then, after a minute of clear internal debate, he stuck out his arm to you, and delicately lifted his pinky to your direction.

“...”

“Hurry it up, you know what I want, pinky-swear on it.” Byakuya never looked at you when saying those words, but your heart was still stolen from the message either way. This man really knew what he was doing to make your heart throb out of your chest.

“Well, I can’t say no to that...:” You smiled gummily to your husband, cutely locking pinkies together, as if they were meant to be there forever to seal a bond that remains forever unsevered.

#writing #littlewritingthings #danganronpa #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa x reader #byakuya #byakuya togami #byakuya togami x reader #byakuya togami fanfiction #x reader #byakuya x reader #byakuya x s/o #byakuya togami x s/o

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blacktalonsb · 2 years

Text

Born a Rebel

AN: This is the sixth chapter to a story I’m writing with my OC Raven. I’m not sure how often I’ll get new chapters up right now. I’m very critical of my own writing and it makes for difficulties writing let alone posting.

Side note to the Author's Note: I had to retype sixth one too many times... it kept coming up sith... XD

Universe: DMC

Warnings: typical sibling rivalry, fluff, etc

Vergil x oc!Raven x Dante

If you have ideas for childhood hijinks (I don’t have sibs so not sure what to add in) suggest something and I’ll see if I can fit it story wise. If you like what you read please tell me! I like feedback but please be respectful. As much as I want people to read what I write it isn’t necessarily the end goal. Also if you do reblog please don’t edit or claim as yours.

.:~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~:.

Dante huffed in exasperation at his brother for asking yet another question of dad. They had been talking about the summer fair in town walking through the foyer. They had been heading towards their mother’s sunroom, but Vergil had headed straight to their father as soon as he saw him. He was probably asking another question on some imagined flaw in his technique or timing. Dante rolled his eyes. Vergil was already a good fighter. He didn’t need extra lessons so why all the questions? Dante walked up behind his brother and smacked the back of his head as he stepped up next to him.

“Dante, what was that for?” Vergil demanded his eyes narrow as he shifted slightly looking to his left.

"Come on Verge, aren't you worried 'bout missin’ class? Raven’s gonna be all dressed up.” Dante gave an exaggerated tilt to his head then smacked his fist into his hand. “Well, I’m sure Raven would be fine if I took your place this time.” As Dante smirked at Vergil, Vergil sighed turning back toward Sparda.

Sparda shook his head. These two just couldn’t help themselves. Truly the only time the boys didn’t fight was when Raven was with them. That girl would have her work cut out for her. Especially if what he and Modeus were discussing earlier was true. So far it seemed plausible, but the boys might not inherit all the traits of his clan. Then there was the question of what they’d inherit from their mother. The same was true of Raven of course. Perhaps she inherited something from her mother that allowed her to calm them. After all, he didn't know which of the Divine clans Raven’s mother came from. Better that and not because of…

“You wouldn’t go to class just to see Raven. You’d not miss so many classes then, hmm?” Vergil opened his mouth to ask Father once more if he could take Raven into town.

“Boys, you’re dismissed for today. I believe your mother wishes to see you in the garden for tea.” As Sparda turned to go to his study his thoughts were laden with possibility. He didn’t know how much longer the boys would be able to handle being without her. As he walked to the stairs the probability that someone would come for his children as much as Modeus’ daughter was like a weight pressing down upon him. Would they survive being separated if the situation called for it?

Vergil tsked. He supposed that was Father’s way of saying the discussion was over. As he watched his father walk off Vergil clenched his hands in frustration. Father’s refusal to let him take Raven on a trip into town didn’t make sense. Why wasn’t Raven allowed into town? Vergil knew he and his brother made trips into town all the time. Father wouldn’t even answer why. Was it because he wasn’t trusted to take care of Raven while she was out? Vergil’s brow furrowed. Perhaps it was that Raven couldn’t be seen with him? He was sure he was missing something, but for the life of him he didn’t know what. It still came down to Father denying him permission to take her to the summer fair. So that left Dante. Dante never planned anything and was sure to get caught, or miss his opportunity to persuade Raven...

“Welp, guess I’m gonna go find Kitten. I’m sure she’s gotta be bored in class right now.” Dante chuckled at the irritated look on Vergil’s face. He stepped forward and turned towards his brother to question him in mock seriousness:

“What’s the matter? Dad not approve of something you wanted to do?” Dante half turned and looked at his father’s retreating form, then turned back to Vergil, the mocking tone slipping into confusion. “And you’re not following, demanding to be heard?” Dante tilts his head and looks at Vergil closely, a look of concern on his face. “What did you ask Father for?” he asks softly.

“I asked to take Raven into town this afternoon to see the fair.” Vergil answered equally softly, his eyes never leaving Sparda’s back. He watched as Sparda climbed the stairs to head to his office on the second floor. When Sparda disappeared into the hallway he snapped his eyes to Dante’s surprised ones.

“You already planned to go didn’t you?” Vergil sighed. Raven isn’t allowed but wants to go so bad. Dante, same as Vergil, was able to go without breaking the rules, but would Dante be willing to break the rules and take Raven with him? Vergil’s gaze drifted off to the right. More importantly, did Vergil really trust Dante with his princess? Vergil paused at the nickname. He had to stop thinking of her that way. One of these times he was going to slip and say something he would regret.

“Of course you did.” Vergil waved his hand dismissively. “Are you willing to take her with you? Even if it gets both of you in trouble?” Vergil raises an eyebrow at Dante, waiting impatiently for his brother’s answer.

Dante couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Why would Vergil ask him to take Raven? Wasn’t Vergil the one that always came up with plans? He wasn’t willing to take her himself? Dante’s brow furrowed. The only time Vergil let him do things with Raven it always seemed to be in Vergil’s favor by the end.

“Well?” Vergil asked. “Don’t bother saying you wouldn’t. We both know you would.” Vergil’s gaze never wavered as if to say tell me I’m wrong. Dante couldn’t. Of course he’d take Kitten to the fair if that’s what she wanted to do. He smirked at Vergil. The thing was though… his eyes drifted up and away… would she go without Vergil?

He laughed as he shifted his gaze back toward Vergil. “Of course I’ll take her with me. You just make sure you’re not around, got it?”

Vergil’s look turned thoughtful. He knew Raven’s schedule probably better than she did. Vergil’s lips twitched into a small smile. He usually was with her all day, but today he was sure his mother wished to speak with Raven after classes. That would take awhile since Mother treated Raven as if the girl was her daughter. Sometimes that meant lectures on topics they didn’t really cover, like etiquette. Or Girl Talk. Raven always looked slightly concerned and possibly a bit traumatized after those particular talks. Etiquette, however, was an opportunity Mother liked to use as an excuse to dress Raven up and have tea time or some other similar thing. Raven was always so adorable, but on those days… Vergil’s gaze drifted away once again as he thought of Raven. Vergil shook his head slightly to clear it. Anyway, afterwards Raven would change back into normal clothes to practice out in the yard on her technique.

“Dante, right now Raven’s with Mother having Etiquette class. The class will be done in a few minutes, but Mother will want to talk to her afterwards. They’ll be done in 10 - 20 minutes, and Raven will change so she can practice in the yard. That’s your only chance to get her to go with you.” Vergil turned to look at Dante again. “She’s going to be tired of sitting listening to Mother go on about,” Vergil waves a hand through the air, “whatever. She’ll be craving something fun. She’ll probably hear you out and agree to go with you.” It would kill him to ignore or push her away, but it would get her to go with Dante if he suggested something fun. Vergil worried at his bottom lip again. “Just don’t back down and keep begging her to go.” With that Vergil turned and stalked off to the library. This was a bad idea, he thought as he bit hard enough to draw blood.

Raven sighed in relief, having finally changed out of that ridiculous outfit. Mrs. Eva was always asking if she liked one of the twins more than the other. Today she’d gone so far as to ask if she’d kissed one of them. As if! Not like she’d say even if she had. Why did it always have to end that way? Mrs. Eva was really nice, but she kept telling her to call her Mom. Today though, she added in something surprising.

Eva stirred her tea for the 5th time. Raven wasn’t answering her questions anymore. She was quite polite and remembered her manners, but she was getting good at avoiding or deflecting questions she didn’t want to answer. Perhaps Mrs Eva would let the matter go if she continued?

“Raven, Sweetie, you can call me Mom now. It won’t be strange since you’re going to stay with one of my boys anyway.”

Raven wasn’t sure what that was about. She was dying to talk to Vergil about it, but he was holed up in the Library doing research. She sighed, balling up the dress she’d just been wearing and tossed it in the hamper with the dirty clothes. The only good thing about dressing up with Mrs. Eva was how the twins reacted to it. They both always looked so surprised and usually tripped over each other trying to give her compliments. Not this time though. Dante had never shown up, and Vergil had seemed distracted. She’d found Vergil in the Library sitting in his favorite spot. Vergil had said she looked elegant and he’d smiled so brightly. Raven had almost gotten lost in the light in his eyes. Just remembering it made her cheeks flush with heat, and a silly grin spread across her face. Then he’d said something about making their bond stronger and returned to his research.

Raven walked quickly down the hallway trying to still the disquiet in her heart. Vergil usually wasn’t so distracted, paying close attention to her looking for any mistakes. Honestly, it left her a bit concerned. There was no way she was perfect. More likely something was bothering him and he didn’t want her to know. He was even biting at his lip which was a sure sign he was worried. Raven slowed, padding more quietly through the hallway now so no one would hear her. She wasn’t quite sure what Vergil meant about their bond, but it sounded important. She hurried to the back door and out into the yard. It was always a matter of time before someone came to look for her so she’d just…

A hand reached out and grabbed her left arm, jerking her back. She pivoted, using the momentum to swing around and plant, as hard as she could, her right fist into whomever had grabbed her. Dante twisted to the side, but her hit still landed. Probably not where she intended, but he was still winded. He was surprised at how fast she was getting. Dante grit his teeth, reminding himself he was there to bring her along with him. He couldn’t back down. At all. He still wasn’t sure she’d go, but Vergil said not to give up.

“Kitten, I came ta take ya with me to the fair. Ya did wanna go right?” Dante grinned cheekily at her. As he let go of her arm he turned fully toward her, adopting a more formal attitude. He held out his right hand to her, dipping his head to her slightly. “Will you accompany me to the summer fair this evening?” He tilted his head slightly, glancing at her through his hair, cheeky grin still in place. “It would be my pleasure to show you every little thing you aren’t supposed to see. I expect much fun to be had, and much trouble if we get caught.” He winked at her, his smile shifting into a smirk as he straightened. “Unless of course, you’re too afraid to go outside the safety of the Manor without your dear Dark Knight.”

Raven’s mildly amused look had turned into a frown at the mention of his brother. Interesting, Dante thought to himself. What did his brother do? Did he care? Not really, but Kitten looks upset so fun was first on the list. Later he’d find out what Vergil had done. He saw the hesitation in Raven’s eyes. Even if she was upset with Vergil she still wanted to include him. Dante made a face and turned to leave. He paused for a moment to look back at her.

“I’m leaving in about 10 minutes. Meet me at the gate and we’ll go. Don’t be late or I’ll leave without you.” Dante turned and walked toward the door. He wouldn’t actually leave her, but it might convince her to be there if she thought he would.

Raven stood there dumbfounded. Raven had only told Vergil that she wanted to go after overhearing the cook’s grandkids talking about it so eagerly. How did Dante know she wanted to go? Maybe he just assumed she did, which to be fair, she did want to. She hesitated again, glancing up to the window on the second floor where she’d seen Vergil with a pile of books. He was still there sitting in the window reading one of the larger tomes. If she left with Dante, Vergil would be the first to notice she wasn’t there. Even if he didn’t actually see her leave he would still suspect it was Dante’s fault. Would he tell one of his parents? Would he just come look for her? Her hands absentmindedly twisted at her shirt as she debated convincing Vergil to go.

#devil may cry #dmc vergil #dmc dante #dmc #vergil x reader #dante x reader

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thevoidcannotbefilled · 3 years

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thanks for that. i'm in my late twenties and seeing people argue that it's unrealistic for martin to have never dated is kind of hurtful tbh

I’m so sorry anon;;;

I’m 23, I’ve dated once in that time, and it was only for like a week in high school. I totally understand where you’re coming from.

But yeah, it’s just... it’s frustrating? Enough people have already made the point that Martin being a flavor of aroace isn’t infantilizing. (Which, saying here, it isn’t. Especially from someone who is aro and/or ace. The issue isn’t the ace and/or aro headcanon, it’s a) writing a character like Martin as an uwu too good for this world character and b) thinking bc of that, “of course he’d be aroace! He wouldn’t want sex!!” It’s both infantilizing and aphobic.

But, regardless of aroace headcanons, let’s say you headcanon Martin as allo, like I said in my tags in the OG post, a mlm, fat, man who grew up poor? And had to take care of his mom on top of that? PLUS THIS MAN CANONICALLY HAS RELIGIOUS TRAUMA??? I can EASILY see Jon as his first relationship or at the very least his first serious relationship.

Like growing up fat, there’s almost a feeling you’re going to be secondary in a lot of things. Dating, even friendships. It’s not that you’re not going to find good partners/friends who love you, but it always feels like you’re going to be looked over for a thin, pretty person first. But if you stand out otherwise, it’s like there’s a target on your back.

I’m lucky, I got a growth spurt when I was 13 and went from “fat” to “not thin” (which there is a difference, I lived it). The former people think you’re unhealthy and make you feel really isolated, and the latter, you’re just not looked upon as easily but will still be made fun of if you’re seen as an easy target. And even “not thin” is just seen as fat a lot of the time. This is all nothing to say about the medical trauma from growing up fat.

For dating, it’s an uphill battle. Not impossible, hell, difficult could be an exaggeration, but there’s always a step there where you feel like you need to prove to your potential partner that you need to be desirable (like for casual dating or at the initial points of a relationship). Even when you feel secure in your own body, at one point, there’s that nagging doubt that “will they dislike me bc I’m fat”. Now, this isn’t true for everyone, and I will admit, this is my insecurities/anxieties, but growing up proved time and time again with my charismatic friends that being pretty and thin made it a lot easier to date. At the very least, being fat makes dating harder, and with all the other things going on with Martin, yeah no, he very easily could have not dated someone beforehand Jon.

Idk I’m rambling. For Martin specifically, him being a fat character is almost vindicating? He was isolated from his peers for various reasons, but now, he’s found people who love and care for him. It doesn’t mean that trauma isn’t there, but it shows that no, yeah, you can have love, a partner, you’re not broken. It may be difficult, but you’re not alone. Even with so much shit against you, you can find love.

Also to end this, what can be isolating for one group of people can be vindicating for another, even within the same communities. For some, reading about a Martin with internalized fatphobia could be triggering, for others it can be helpful in working through their own issues. Martins where he hasn’t dated could feel a bit isolating for some, while for others, it feels like they’re being seen. It’s complicated and should be treated as such. Saying so otherwise hurts everyone involved.

#long post #fandom wank #ask the void #martin blackwood #hmmmm should I main tag this or not #probably not a lot of personal stuff here #Anonymous #why did I write 25 what

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izzabeean · 3 years

Text

Chapter 4 : Bitter

SUMMARY

Oikawa tries to distract you upon finding out about your break-up and it does seem to be working but only for a moment...

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 2,146

tags : alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n : I feel like things are picking up and I’m so excited for what this fic has in store! Apologies for the slow beginning, this truly is a slow burn. *NOTE: Kuri dorayaki is a traditional Japanese sweet, pancake-like bun with red bean paste and roasted chestnut filling.

masterlist

<< prev | ch . 4 | next >>

Barely an hour goes by before Oikawa jumps at the chance to spend the day with you out and about in the city; it's not often he’s had the opportunity to, especially when you and Ushijima were together making most of your weekend's busy spending time with him. Of course, you were quite keen on spending the day inside, finding ways to forget the severe emptiness festering within, but Oikawa's excitement couldn't be ignored and with that, you agreed to spend the day out with him.

Honestly, if it weren’t for Oikawa's pestering, you wouldn’t have realized how much the fresh air fills you with ease a s you walk down the street listening to him babbling about his evening with Iwaizumi. Normally you are a very attentive listener, engrossed in his dramatic details, but today you found it very difficult to listen intently. Your attention shifted to the pairs of people passing by; some hand-in-hand, some giggling, and the sight makes sick to your stomach.

All these couples in love getting to spend time together. It’s so repulsive.

And you're bitter.

Bitter because you wish you had that. Bitter because you used to have that. Bitter because you miss Ushijima.

And because you miss him, you can't help but think back to when you first showed interest in each other. At that time, you and Ushijima had a weird friendship, actually, you weren’t really sure what it was as he only spoke to you at school. Topics didn’t stray far from assignments or classes, so it was very odd when he asked you to hang out one morning off of campus.

“You didn’t have to wake me up so early,” you groan curled up in the passenger's seat of Ushijima’s car. Your eyes are heavy, as you press your forehead against the cold window examining the long outstretch of highway lit by the sky just moments before dawn breaks. Looking over to Ushijima you notice not a trace of fatigue that filters his eyes as they remain focused on the road ahead.

“What is there to even do at 6 in the morning?” you yawn.

The sudden wake-up call was earlier than anticipated, you should’ve clarified that morning for you was 9 AM. But to Ushijima hammering his fist on your door was a more productive way to wake you up rather than a call or text. Truthfully, he found the results to be much more amusing and knew you could not ignore him.

“We had to in order to arrive on time,” he booms flatly, quickly casting a glance at you.

Your face contorts with irritation at the vague response and question if this is just a planned kidnapping. Maybe you were exaggerating a bit... Still, nothing else seemed reasonable.

“Well, will you at least tell me where we’re going?” you lash.

“We will be there soon,” he replies, calm and cool to your aggressive tone.

Crossing your arms in impatience, you scoff at his response then continue to look out of the window listening to the low murmur from the radio.

It’s not much longer until Ushijima pulls into a gravel lot at the side of the road and parks.

“We’re here,” he says getting out of the vehicle.

You tilt your head quizzically scanning your destination which is basically out in the mind of nowhere. Ushijima pops open the passenger door waiting for you to get out.

"Is this a joke?" you rasp.

"Just follow me," he says trying to hold back the irritation in his voice.

Unbuckling the seatbelt, you slide out of the vehicle and follow him, hopeful that there’s more to this deserted parking lot than just a dusty road.

And there is because your eyes are met with a breathless view above the town. All at once, your doubts fade as the sun begins to rise at the atmosphere’s edge, drenching the houses and buildings in its golden glow. Everything feels so peaceful.

“This is beautiful,” you breathe, sincerely in awe of the picturesque sight.

You are an idiot.

“Not gonna lie, I thought this was a kidnapping,” you joke.

Ushijima casts a confused glance at you, unable to understand what you were getting at. “I was told to take a girl I like to an intimate spot.”

A girl he likes? Oh.

Did he bring you here for advice? A hint of jealousy surfaces at the thought that Ushijima has his eyes set on someone else. And you wonder what his true intent was for bringing you here.

“Maybe tell her where you’re going so she doesn’t get the wrong idea,” you tease.

“Tell who? You didn’t like the surprise?”

You blink. “Me?”

It never crossed your mind that you could be the one he likes. Obviously, he’s hot and every time he says your name your heart skips a beat, but you never thought anything of it.

“Yes.”

Ushijima takes a step forward closing the distance between the two of you. His gaze is a lot warmer than usual evoking a strong pull at your heartstrings. You know your personality can be quite cold and temperamental, sometimes even hostile, but there was something more underlying your cheeky, sarcastic comments. Ushijima brought out a side to you that no one else really could.

A slight breeze picks up pushing your hair in your face, to which Ushjima leans in tucking the strand behind your ear.

“Your hair was in your face, thought I should move it so I could see you better,” he utters.

He’s close, the closest he's ever been, and you're hot.

You stare at him wide-eyed soaking in the electric chemistry floating in the air. You think your heart might stop as his hand moves under your jaw to tilt your face up at him while the other touches the small of your back bringing you closer; his touch is warm and soft cascading tingles down your body. Then he leans in even closer to gently press a kiss on your lips.

“Hey! Pay attention!”

Oikawa’s yell snaps you out of the nostalgia bringing you back to your walk with him in the city. But your daze only causes you trouble because you spot a bike unwavering from its path heading towards you. Your brain screams, telling you to move or do something, but your body freezes in place--all you sense is fear.

Suddenly, your arm is yanked from the side, and with a yelp, you’re pulled to safety. It was unlike you to be so out of it, but you didn’t realize how much Ushijima occupied your thoughts until that moment.

A lump forms in your throat as the cyclist passes you and you could hear him mumbling under his breath how unobservant pedestrians can be.

“That was close,” Oikawa jokes.

His words startle you as you come to the realization that Oikawa’s arms are wrapped around your body. You look up at him as he stares down at you with his shit-eating grin that says “I just saved your ass big time .” Your eyebrow twitches at his expression and pry yourself away from his grip.

“I’m not going to thank you!” you shout, angrily.

“Wow, so cruel Y/N-chan,” he whines with a giggle.

His laugh is all-consuming as you feel overwhelmed with frustration. It’s just like Oikawa to make everything completely insufferable, now you weren’t going to hear the end of it, of how he saved you from getting hit by a bike. He always knew the right way to get under your skin.

“Y/N-chan,” Oikawa calls, pointing to a vendor on the corner of the street selling kuri dorayaki*. “Would you like one?”

Swiftly, the sweet smell fills your nose and the scent reminds you of your childhood, strolling with your family under the gold and crimson trees while the earthy, caramel air nips at you through your clothing.

But you’re hesitant to give in to his peace offering.

You didn’t want to be bribed, but as the flavors continue to float through the air, you could hear your stomach start grumbling.

Before you had a chance to oppose, Oikawa takes his wallet out while walking up to the food stand to purchase a couple of treats; one for you and one for him. Upon returning, he hands it to you and motions to take a seat on a bench nearby.

“What do I owe you?” you ask.

Oikawa waves his hands in the air, “Nothing, it’s on me.

You pause. The city noise rang in your ears as the sun gleams down blanketing you in warmth. It almost feels strange, having him be so nice, after all, teasing each other has become so routine that the pressure to say something nice resides in your chest. You don’t know what’s overcome you, you normally never second guess what to say to Oikawa, but his kindness really stunned you.

As the steam rolls off causing your mouth to water in anticipation of the flavors, you sink your teeth into the delicious pancake-like bun. The taste of the sweet red bean and chestnut coats your mouth bringing a sense of warmth inside washing away the feelings of anger and frustration.

“Thank you,” you mumble, under your breath licking your lips.

Oikawa smiles in response, “Anything for you!”

Just as you were about to take another bite, you pause peering at a familiar figure across the street-- the only figure you could recognize from a mile away.

Ushijima.

“Do you not like it?” Oikawa looks at you with an uncharacteristic flash of concern.

You don’t reply as you keep your eyes locked on your ex who is in front of a bakery you’ve walked past a million times, standing next to a girl you’ve never seen before. It’s almost unbearable as she wraps her arm around his looking in the window at all the decadent sweets on display. You are nearly consumed with agony at the sight but can’t stop looking while he turns to fix her hair for her.

Just like how he used to with you.

Your gaze must have been burning because as he looks up in your direction. He pauses blankly staring; it’s the same look he’s always given you--stony and daunting--but it feels much more unsettling. And now you know, that he knows you’ve seen too much.

Your eyes dart back to Oikawa who’s traced your eye line to where you’ve been looking. You can tell he’s anticipating some sort of reaction, but all you do is look back to find Ushijima gone.

Your heart sinks.

Everything makes sense now.

“Isn’t that--”

"Do you know her?" you cut Oikawa off quickly reverting to desperation. A sense of betrayal fills you as you study his face, noticing he looks like he wants to say something but is holding back.

"No," he scoffs, not sounding the slightest bit convincing. It's the kind of ‘no’ you give to someone you want to let down easy or you want to avoid telling the truth to.

"Don't lie to me," you say, firmly.

Oikawa pauses.

The suspense feels like it could kill you as you watch the wheel in his head turn, trying to piece together the right thing to say.

“Have you met the transfer student?” Oikawa softly asks. "I've seen her around campus but didn't realize…"

Transfer student?

Your heart drops as the words echo in your head leaving the rest of Oikawa's explanation to fade in the background.

“You’re joking,” you state plainly, unable to process the information and when Oikawa doesn't answer you know he's not.

It wasn’t like Ushijima to leave you for someone else, not even the slightest sliver of you can believe it. He respected you and cared for you, was the one who initially made a move on you. How could that all just change, like a flick of a switch? Yet, it did and last night you were met with a Ushijima you didn’t know. He was cold and distant, unreadable to the point you were convinced he could be a stranger. But, of course, the evidence was right in front of you as to why. There was someone better.

Unfortunately, there was nothing you could do. You know immediately Ushijima doesn’t owe you an explanation because you weren’t together anymore.

"Let's go," you whisper, getting up from the bench turning to Oikawa.

“You know, you don’t have to deal with this alone,” Oikawa breathes, quietly

The sentiment is almost dumbfounding to the point your nerves start to jitter. Admitting your worries to Oikawa wasn’t going to do you any good.

You can’t help but let out a nervous laugh to suppress your embarrassment.

“Thanks.”

And there it is again, that smile he knows it’s forced, but he doesn’t tell you. It’s not worth causing you more pain than you’ve already been in.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x y/n #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x y/n

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ladyc0312 · 4 years

Text

A Jikook Guide to Run! BTS: 1-20

Hi all! Welcome to part one of my overview of all jikook moments in Run! BTS and Run BEHIND.

My biggest takeaway from these early episodes is that BH didn't quite know how to make a good variety show yet. Some of the set-ups are awkward and the guys are clearly still getting used to being on camera in this format. The jikook moments aren’t as frequent or obvious. As we go on, expect less “they look at each other in a maybe meaningful way” and more “then he sat down in his lap...” That said, this set of episodes includes both the priest skit and the cops skit, so if you’re into role-play, this was your era of Run!

Episode Guide under the cut, to avoid both spoilers and taking up half your dash...

UPDATED PER THE SUGGESTIONS OF SOME LOVELY COMMENTERS. THANK YOU ALL! New content in bold.

FYI: When you don’t see “BEHIND” descriptions or photos, it means there were no notable jikook moments. I’ve given each ep a general rating and a special Jikook-ery rating, both out of 5. YMMV!

Ep 1 (n/a)

The one that’s just a commercial for the V app

Ep 2 “The Greatest Man” (Ep: 3 / KM: 1)

The one with the most homoerotic series of challenges I’ve ever seen to prove who’s the “best” man

6:28 - Jimin TWICE randomly announces during musical chairs that JK will win

Not ikook-specific, but FYI, Jungkook REALLY likes being tickled. If you want a vague idea of what the beginnings of an OT7 orgy might look like, the scene at 2:09 is for you! And if you’re curious what each member looks like putting on lipstick and holding their mouths open, check out 4:24.

Ep 3 “Theme Park” (Ep: 1 / KM: 1)

The one at Six Flags that’s not worth watching unless you enjoy shaky camera footage of people screaming on roller coasters

5:44 - When Jimin is proud of himself for having ridden a coaster, JK goes to say something to him but keeps glancing at the camera self-consciously.

6:19 - With the camera further away, JK and JM talk with each other while waiting on line

7:06 - JK fast-walks to get to JM and then leans on JM’s shoulder to check the post-ride pictures

Ep 4 “30 Second Gate” (Ep: 1 / KM: 0.5)

The one where they do fairly boring challenges in a pool

5:26 - There’s a super brief instant of JK looking over at Jimin while shyly tugging on his shirt collar. Prob not even worth being noted as a moment, but JK looks so adorable that I’m including it anyway

Ep 5 “100 Seconds Sports Day” (Ep: 1 / KM: 1)

The one with a rather repetitive relay game

5:56 - JM playfully throws a milk carton at JK when JK fails to complete his task

7:53 - JK does some “teleporting” where he goes from being behind Suga in one shot to next to JM in the following one. He stays next to JM the whole rest of the time they’re mixing the drink.

Ep 6 “Sketch: Confession” (Ep: 2 / KM: 4)

The priest sketch that launched a thousand AUs...

3:30 - Jungkook comes in to “confess his sins” to Jimin, who is playing a priest and calls him “darling.” JK confesses to using Jin’s razor while also claiming to be the eldest in BTS. Jimin tells him that he’s so handsome, it must be that he’s blessed by God and can be forgiven for most things. Jimin tells JK to give him a hug to get forgiveness for his sins. As they hug, both are smiling and the onscreen text tells us how happy Jimin is and puts a little heart next to his face during the hug. Jimin strokes JK’s cheek after and it seems to make JK a little shy. Jimin calls out “bye, darling” as he leaves, then calls him “cutie” for the camera. For comparison’s sake, Jimin hits V on the forehead and makes J-Hope do 50 push-ups to earn forgiveness. He hugs J-Hope at the end of it and the difference between how that hug feels versus the one with JK is clear as day.

Ep 6pt2 “Sketch: Confession” (Ep: 2 / KM: 0 )

None (neither appear in this episode)

Ep 7 “Paintball” (Ep: 1 / KM: 1)

The one that reminds you paintball is more fun to play than to watch

I’ll be honest, guys, between the masked helmets they’re wearing and the constant cutting around, I cannot follow the paintball games in this episode at all. I’m going to go out on a limb and say nothing particularly shippy happens during them.

9:54 - JK picks up Jimin from behind and bounces him around for a while (we don’t know how long because the camera cuts before he’s done). It will be revealed in ep. 10 that this is part of JK’s secret mission, which is to get Jimin to say “please stop.” However, despite Jimin not looking thrilled at all the bouncing around, he doesn’t tell JK to stop.

Ep 8 “Treasure Hunt” (Ep: 2 / KM: 2)

The one where they run or ride ATVs to find flags in the woods

1:15 - Jimin says out of nowhere that he thinks JK is going to be running and tells him to be careful not to bump into anyone (I think - the subs are a little weird on this one).

13:09 - JK tries to take one of JM’s meal ticket flags. JM refuses and claims JK called him “trash.” JK (kind of?) denies this and throws his one flag on the ground in frustration. J-Hope grabs it and JK sulks a bit because he’s left with nothing.

13:33 - Jimin reverses course and gives JK one of his flags. JK is delighted. RM asks why (apparently he, Jimin, and V had a deal to share their flags?) and Jimin just responds that Jungkook is very cute (which the on-screen texts puts a heart next to). Jimin ends up giving a flag to V, too, but he makes him beg like a dog first.

14:16 - Jimin calls JK over and gives him a brief hug / pat on the back

Ep 9 “Bungee Jump” (Ep: 1 / KM: 0.5)

The one where it is what it says on the tin

11:25 - Some jikookers have reported hearing JK say an un-captioned “pretty” here (sounds like yebbeo or yeebeun in Korean). I’ll be totally honest that I can’t really make it out, but I will put this note here in case others with better ears than mine want to check it out!

13:59 - JM has his arm around JK at the start of the shot here

Ep 10 “Spy for Silmido Island” (Ep: 2 / KM: 2)

The one where everyone eats a meal as they learn how JK has been doing secret missions the last three episodes

6:16 - JK explains that he failed his mission to get Jimin to say, “please stop.” We see flashbacks of JK trying - in addition to the above picking JM up, JK also pulled on his hair and gave him a shoulder rub (there is no explanation for why he thought that would be something JM would tell him to stop), and spraying him with a water bottle. The main jikook takeaway from this and the confession episode seems to be that JM will let JK get away with anything because he think he’s cute.

7:00 - We see that JM inadvertently made JK fail his mission to feed the camera man because, when JK held out food, JM got JK to feed him instead

Ep 11 "Back to School" (Ep: 3 / KM: 1)

The one where Suga dresses as a girl and gets hit on by the rest of the band

21:28 - Despite Jimin doing nothing but smiling in the sketch, JK says he's the day's MVP and is weirdly sincere about it

24:05 - YMMV on jeon-lous, but he does indeed do the tongue thing here when JM is flirting with girl-Yoongi

Ep 12 "Cops" (Ep: 4 / KM: 4)

The police sketch that launched ten thousand AUs...

6:46 - "Detective" Jungkook pulls "criminal" Jimin away by his collar 8:41 - After Jimin acts cute and says he's bored, JK comes over and slaps his upper thigh before throwing Jimin over his shoulder and slapping his butt. When JK puts him down, Jimin just looks at him with a dazed smile for a moment before they continue on with the sketch.

9:30 - Jimin tries to flirt his way out of of JK’s interrogation, which JK says is for “setting fire to ARMY’s hearts with his smiling eyes.”

10:25 - After a brief interuption by “Captain” Suga, the interrogation starts having flirty vibes again, with JK smirking and making eye contact while Jimin acts bashful and speaks in a whispery voice.

11:00 - JK holds a fake gun on JM as he starts his “Lie” dance, during which he directs finger hearts towards JK. The camera focuses on JM and, by the time it shows JK again, he’s lowered the gun and put his other hand over his heart. The on-screen text says “Detective Jeon’s heart is attacked.”

12:55 - JM and JK switch roles so JM is the detective. He hits JK over the head with a book. JK has basically no visible reaction, but JM has clearly flustered himself.

Note: To explain my reasoning for these originally not being here - if you look at the other skits in this ep, they are all accusing each other of doing things to ARMY’s hearts and being weirdly flirty with each other. Like, this police station has some serious sexual harassment issues all around! That said, the vibes are unique with jikook and, upon rewatch, I came to agree with y’all that the above should’ve been included. 19:30 - Alternate version of the sketch where Jimin and JK have a dance battle that ends in both of them being put in the jail cell and told to dance.

BEHIND 0:58 - Jimin flirt-ily calls out "I'm bored; play with me, Detective" (presumably to JK since they're scene partners). Note: Adults saying they "played" with each other is a common way to describe hanging out in Korean and doesn't necessarily have the sexual connotations it does in English.

4:08 - Jimin stares at JK as he does squats

Ep 13 "The Spy Who Returned Part 1" (Ep: 4 / KM: 2)

The ones where they play games at an indoor water park

1:00 - Jimin does an exaggerated running motion and JK slaps him to make him stop, which JM finds funny

1:43 - JM has his arm around JK

6:00 - JK jokingly(?) tells JM his wet hair looks cool

11:12 - JM calls JK their team's ace and they whisper about who he should call out from the other team

Ep 14 "The Spy Who Returned Part 2" (Ep: 3 / KM: 2)

16:04 - JM jokingly hits JK for getting the answer super wrong and then they go down the waterslide together. (Note: I've seen some jikook-ers claim JK messed up on purpose so the game wouldn't end and he'd get to ride with Jimin, but I'm not sure there's actual evidence to support that theory.)

The moment that led to the picture below isn’t in the ep or the BEHIND, but I raised the episode’s KM score a full point for it

Ep 15 "The Spy Who Returned Part 3" (Ep: 3 / KM: 2)

TW for this ep: 5:14 - during the confessions game, Jin tells Jimin that whenever Jimin asks if he put on weight, Jin wants to say he looks like a pig. Jimin claims to not be upset after, but looks like he's going to cry and seems off for a while. Then, at 10:45, Jin reiterates that Jimin "got fat." Everyone laughs except JK, who widens his eyes and then starts chewing on his finger.

6:37 - Despite being on the same team as JK, Jimin joins J-Hope's complaints about JK coming to their room uninvited, saying that JK often brushes his teeth in their room. He accuses JK of buying the exact same toothbrush as Jimin’s and complains that they can’t tell them a part. JK says it wasn't him and then there's a weird cut to sometime later when Jimin is sitting back down again... Just prior to this, Jimin is looking unhappy as Hobi tells a story about JK seeing him naked, but it’s hard to tell if he’s reacting to that or feeling upset about Jin’s weight comments from the previous round.

16:02 - Jimin defends Jungkook against accusations that he's the spy

BEHIND 4:30 - Jimin sits on Jungkook's lap and, when he leans over to try to get Jin to give him food, JK puts his hand on JM's hip to steady him

Ep 16 "Snowpark Winter Olympics" (Ep: 4 / KM: 1)

The one where everyone plays winter games

4:35 - When JM and JK are the finalists for the sledding round, JM thanks the viewers for their support. JK asks "what does that make me?" and yells/sings badly, which makes JM laugh. I don’t quite get it, tbh, but they seem to be enjoying themselves

14:50 - JK helps JM get his sled in place

BEHIND 3:02 - JK smiles as he gets pushed towards JM on the ice

Ep 17 "Arcade Olympics Part 1" (Ep: 2 / JK: 2)

The ones where we are reminded that playing arcade games is more fun than watching people play them

All of this and next episode, whenever they all reshuffle positions, Jimin and Jungkook end up standing next to each other. This happens pretty frequently in Run BTS generally, but it was particularly noticeable in this ep since it's not like they're on the same team or anything...

4:16 - When Jimin does a dramatic DDR finish, JK calls attention to it. JM turns to him and they lock eyes for a second

15:00 - JK cheers Jimin's name when it looks like he's going to win the basketball game

BEHIND

3:36 - JK & JM play a 4D game together Also, JK has an interesting mark on his neck on his right side that does not appear to be there in the episode itself...

Ep 18 "Arcade Olympics Part 2" (Ep: 2 / JK: 1)

3:30 - JK tries (unsuccessfully) to coach Jimin on the driving game

3:45 - JK stands up for Jimin and says he's getting the hang of the game

14:36 - JM & JK laugh together at RM's failure

19:58 - It's not super clear, but it sounds like JK calls JM "Jiminie" at the end of his sentence

Ep 19 "Strike" (Ep: 2 / JK: 1)

The one where BTS go bowling together and end up bowing down to JK

4:47 - JK shares that he and Jimin used to bowl together

---

If there’s anything I’ve missed or that anyone has different interpretations of, I’d love to hear it.

More episodes coming soon!

#jikook #kookmin #run bts #jikook guide to run bts

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years

Text

The Long Way Around ~ Chapter 4

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/623116614605357056/the-long-way-around-chapter-3

Pairing: Jasper x Reader

Word count: 2092

Warnings: None

Y/n’s POV

The next three weeks pass in a now predictable sequence. I spend the majority of my time getting to know my new roommates, for lack of a better word. Esme, who is quickly becoming my favorite, does whatever I want with me. We read books, watch movies, go for runs in the woods. The doctor, Carlisle, isn’t home very often. He and Edward spend a lot of time in town making sure the Cullens are not suspect in my disappearance. They decided it would be best to continue ‘business as usual’ to avoid suspicion, but also so they don’t have to give up the advantageous location in the woods and risk moving with me. Bella tends to keep to herself, though she does occasionally join Esme and I in our book club. Alice and Arthur are quite friendly, and I enjoy spending time with them, even if Alice does treat me like a Barbie doll. I swear, I’ve never owned more clothes in my life! Rosalie is slowly warming up to me. She’s not rude, exactly, but I can tell my presence is hard on her. Her husband, Emmett, is a whole lot of fun. He invites me for races and arm wrestling matches which, obviously, I win. I suspect that won’t continue forever, though. Once my newborn strength fades, he will likely be the strongest in the house.

Then, of course, there’s my shadow. Jasper doesn't say much, but he is a constant presence. I can tell he doesn’t trust me. The minute I get frustrated or upset he invades my personal space and uses his ability to calm me down. I do resent it slightly, but I understand the need. It’s as he says: I’m dangerous. It amuses me though to know that, as Jasper has taken the task upon himself to never leave my side, he has to do everything I do. So he watches sappy movies with Esme and I, he sits quietly while Emmett and I play board games, he sulks in the corner while I ask Alice endless questions about her psychic ability, and, of course, he hunts with me about four times a week.

My bloodlust is insatiable. This newfound life and the thirst that accompanies it keeps me in a near constant state of pain. My throat burns badly, and, even when I am drinking animal blood, the burn remains. I have a feeling that, at this stage of life, not even human blood would satisfy my thirst.

At the thought of human blood, a delicacy so far denied to me, venom pools in my mouth. From across the room, Jasper shifts uncomfortably, feeling my desire. I imagine it must be harder for him than the others, because he not only has to fight his own bloodlust, but everyone else’s.

He eyes me evenly. “Do you want to hunt?”

“I’m fine,” I lie. We just went yesterday, and I feel like a burden asking people to go with me constantly. I usually have an entourage of three minimum when I hunt, and I can tell it interrupts the daily flow of things.

Jasper’s eyes don’t leave mine. “Taking you hunting isn’t a burden. Trust me, we would much rather go with you twenty times a day than have you get too thirsty and lose control.”

I purse my lips at his uncanny ability to know what I’m thinking. I know his emotional radar detector must help, but seriously, sometimes he rivals Edward.

“It would probably be a good idea,” I acquiesce. “I’ll go see if anyone else wants to go.” I push myself off the kitchen floor-I had been busy reading through one of Esme’s architecture journals-and walk into the living room where Emmett, Rosalie, Carlisle, Esme, and Arthur are gathered around the TV.

“Hey does anyone wanna-” My words die as I register the news anchor’s words.

“The search continues for local Y/n, Y/l/n, who was reported missing over three weeks ago.”

It feels like the breath has been knocked out of me. I grip the back of the couch, grief ripping through me. Five vampires turn their wary gazes at me.

“Turn it off.” Jasper’s command comes from behind my shoulder.

“No,” I breathe, deeply hurt but desperate to know what my friends and family could be seeing.

The anchor continues. “Authorities say they have a man in custody who confessed to stabbing the woman, though claims he can’t remember what he did with the body. Witnesses to the crime seem to suffer the same memory loss. Police have refused to offer further comments, though locals speculate a conspiracy or the presence of illegal drugs. While the two witnesses to the crime, Kaitlyn Myers and Blake Hannigan, have faced backlash surrounding their involvement in the case, police have cleared them as suspects at this time.”

The couch snaps under my grip. I take two quick steps back, shocked by what I just heard and the jarring display of my physical power.

“Oh, sweetie.” Esme is in front of me instantly, reaching out to envelop me in a hug. Before I can even blink, Jasper is standing between us, acting as a barrier to Esme.

Hurt pierces through my gut. He only sees me as a threat.

“I’m not going to hurt Esme, Jasper. Back off!” I wish my words didn’t waver.

His voice is hard when he responds. “You don’t know what you’ll do. Newborns are governed by their emotions more than anyone else. I’m not taking any risks.”

“Well how about getting to know me instead of just generalizing?” I throw my hands up, properly yelling now. “I’m sick of feeling like I’m a prisoner with you. Everyone else is giving me a chance, so why can’t you?” I spit the words out, my hurt growing by the second.

“We’re hoping it’s all a terrible dream, that we’ll wake up soon and everything will be alright.”

They hadn’t turned off the TV. On the screen is a video of my parents. Hearing my mom’s tearful voice is like a kick to the stomach. I sink to the floor, gasping for air I don’t need.

“I just want our little girl to come home.” Mom’s voice breaks, and she stares into the camera. It’s like she’s staring right at me.

“Jasper, it’s alright, really. I appreciate your concern very much but I promise, it’s alright.” Esme’s soft voice vaguely reaches me through my sobs.

A pair of arms-Esme’s, likely-envelopes me, but I barely take notice. I only feel the pain. It’s so much worse than the burn in my throat. It almost has me wishing for the fiery torture I felt while becoming a vampire. But wishing very seldom equates to reality, so I’m left to allow the gaping hole in my chest to consume me.

I don’t know how long we stay like that, only that it’s dark when I finally regain control of myself. Esme never left my side, and even Rosalie had come to join us at some point. She says nothing, only rests her head on my shoulder and holds my hand.

Jasper is noticeably absent.

“I think I scared him off,” I mumble, guilty.

“He’ll recover,” Rosalie replies, sounding unconcerned.

“He’s coming from the right place,” Esme assures. “Jasper is a very passionate person who gives his all in everything. This is no different. I think he sees keeping you and us safe as a chance to redeem himself for his past indiscretions, though those are long-ago forgiven. He’s trying to keep you from making the same mistakes he did.”

I look at the floor, mulling Esme’s words over. I don’t really know what to say to that.

Thankfully, Rosalie saves me from having to craft a response. “Do you still want to hunt? I can go with you.”

I smile and shake my head, exhausted from the recent emotional turmoil. “No, it’s okay. I think I’ll just go to bed.” I say the word lightly, knowing I’ll probably just spend the next eight hours reading or something to keep my mind busy.

I stand, intending to exit the room. On the way out I see the poor couch, broken in two. I grimace. “Sorry about the couch.”

Esme smiles sweetly, waving it off. “Don’t worry about it. It just gives me an excuse to go shopping.”

I give her a quick hug, grateful for her endless kindness and patience.

Once upstairs in the room Alice and Esme courteously set up for me, I flop on the bed, grabbing the nearest book. I do my best to let my mind go blank and focus only on the words in front of me. About two hours into this exercise, I hear a soft knock on the door.

Jasper stands in the frame, looking repentant. “I’m sorry. You were right. I haven’t tried to know you. But I’ve got some time now if you’re free.” It’s then that I realize he means to do this now. Not wanting to smile because I really am still upset with him, I bite it back.

I decide to play coy instead. “I suppose I could clear my schedule. Though, a little more groveling might help…”

He smiles softly, almost hesitantly. With exaggerated movements, he gets on his knees and clasps his hands together in an excellent show of desperation. “Please do me the magnificent honor...of telling me your favorite color.”

Now I can’t help but crack a smile. “You may approach, peasant, but remember that my good grace can easily change.” I pat the foot of my bed, and he sits, facing me. “It’s green. Like trees and moss and emeralds.”

“What’s your favorite thing about this new life?”

“The running. I had asthma as a human but now I can run for as long as I want and be completely fine.”

He nods, filing the information away. “If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?”

I answer without hesitation. “London. The culture, the history, the accents.” He chuckles, teasingly exasperated. “I bet it’s amazing.”

He smiles, a faraway look in his eyes. “Oh it’s great. I was there back in the ‘90s...I bet it hasn’t changed too much though.” He grins. “Maybe in a couple of years we’ll all be able to take a trip.”

I look down at my fingers. “Maybe a few more years than a ‘couple’. I can’t even think of human blood without…” Venom floods my mouth. I offer a humorless chuckle. “See?”

Jasper shakes his head emphatically. “No, you’re really doing good.” I try to protest, but he shakes it off. “I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. You are doing remarkably well for three weeks in.”

I sigh, ready to tease him a bit. “Well I couldn’t do so well without my shadow micromanaging my every move.”

He smiles sheepishly and looks at his lap. “I’m sorry I seem a bit…,” he sighs deeply, “intense. I will try to ease off.”

I grin, pulling my knees up to my chest. “Thank you. I’ll try to be a little less emotionally hectic. It’s gotta be hard on you.”

Too quickly, he shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. You’re going through a lot, it’s okay.”

I chuckle, feeling much lighter now, either thanks to his ability or the natural resolution of tension between us, I don’t know. “Yeah well I could stay away from the movies that make me feel all the things.” Now he grins, raising his eyebrows. “Next time we’ll try something bland, like High Noon.”

“Hey now.” Jasper raises a hand, a comically disbelieving look on his face. “High Noon is a masterpiece, don’t knock it.”

I grin broadly, smacking him on the shoulder with a pillow. “I knew you were a Western guy! Gosh, that’s gotta be like, what, forty percent of your personality?”

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, taking the pillow from me. “Mhm, somewhere around there.”

I like this Jasper, I decide firmly. This new, witty, freer Jasper is so much more fun to be around. I could stand to have this Jasper follow me around all day.

As if he has come to the same agreement, that Jasper stays at the foot of my bed well past the time the sun rises, talking and joking. We get to know each other.

And, for a while, I forget about how sad I am and the near constant burning in the back of my throat.

A/n Thanks for reading! I’m having so much fun with this story and I’m glad you guys are enjoying it, too! Please let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you would like to be added to the tag list!

xx,

Bjr

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/623283543296049154/the-long-way-around-chapter-5

Tag list: @puer-de-infinitate @charliestuff @hindustani-diaspora @one-thread-can-save-a-life

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 3 years

Text

The Decision

A/N: Well, well, well... it seems as though I have fallen victim to the things I said I’d never do yet again. What a clown. I do place a portion of the blame for this piece coming into being on @something-tofightfor who literally recruited backup to coerce me to write for Mando... but I like honesty and I believe in owning up to things. So to be fair, I probably would have ended up writing this anyway. That doesn’t make it less terrifying to share it, because it is so far from what I normally write, but one of my writing goals for the new year was to branch out so, no time like the present, right? (aka lemme post this right quick before i chicken out.)

ANYWAY THAT’S ENOUGH OF MY BABBLING. This falls into the season 1 storyline. You’ll know where.

Word Count: 2,540

The Mandalorian had been a member of the guild for years. Hunting was second nature to him, his skills in tracking and combat making him perfectly suited for the job. Fighting was simple when the only acceptable outcome was victory; win, and maintain his honor, dignity and reputation, or die in defeat. Do whatever necessary to ensure the latter never happened. There was no middle ground. Even if these ideals weren’t written into the code that he followed, they would still be a part of his code.

The Way.

He never questioned the rulesets that he lived his life by. He was never given a reason to. How many bounties had he collected? How many pucks passed across tabletops or fobs followed to the far reaches of the galaxy, to dusty desert planets and backwater swamps? The number wasn’t worth even thinking about. He didn’t keep track, he kept busy, quickly moving from one quarry to the next, collecting his pay and setting a course for his next destination.

Why then, after all those years, all those successful missions, had this one caused him to go against everything he had ever known? He never cared to learn anything about the bail jumpers and criminals that he captured. He never asked what would become of them once they were handed over to whoever it was that was after them. It mattered less to him than the number of completed jobs he’d done. They’d made the wrong deal or stolen from the wrong person, gotten in over their heads and gotten their heads assigned a price. Mercenary or nobleman, gambler or thief, it didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was getting the job done.

He hardly made a profit after spending on fuel and provisions, but he wasn’t in it for the credits. He wasn’t looking for riches or fame. He wasn’t really looking for anything. Just a life that didn’t require him to stay still for any length of time. It didn’t suit him, settling down. He’d had a home, twice. He’d lost his home, twice. His ship was the only home he needed anymore, and since it was just him, he didn’t have a need to profit so long as he had food and fuel enough to carry him through his next mission. So the questions? The hang ups? They weren’t about negotiating his prize or garnering recognition.

Then why?

He sighed, leaning back in his seat and letting his gloved hands fall from the controls to his lap.

Why this one?

It had started before he’d set out to track his bounty, before he’d even agreed to the job- a prickling sensation in the back of his brain. Whether it was an instinctual warning, some cosmic intervention, or a simple lack of sleep he couldn’t say, but it started as soon as he saw the first brick of beskar.

He wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of taking on an imperial client. But the presence of a few stormtroopers wasn’t enough to give him pause. There had only been four of them, and for all the resources that the Empire had at its fingertips during the height of its power, top of the line weapons and armor for their foot soldiers had never been a priority. He liked his odds at four to one even if they had been properly armed and armored in more than the flimsy white gear that he had no doubt he’d make short work of. Regardless, once the door had opened there was no going back, not with a client like this.

The pin pricks in his brain weren't due to them at all.

It was the heavy ingot, dark ribbons of silver-gray running through it, a distinctive clanging sound reaching his ears as the client set it on the table that had ignited the sensation. Beneath his helmet his eyes widened and his mouth fell open as the feeling intensified.

Expensive, Greef Karga had said of the Mandalorian’s rate. Expensive typically translated to bulging sacks of coins, the origin of which didn’t matter much to him so long as the spending of them didn’t line imperial pockets. The Empire is gone. He’d said the words himself, but he knew that there were still hold outs, still those benefiting off of the crumbs of the former regime. He also knew that gone didn’t always mean gone forever, and he refused to play a part in its return by continuing to circulate the currency of the corrupt. Lower pay in less offensive coin was preferable to him, but lower pay wasn’t going to be the case with this one. He knew that going in.

He’d taken unconventional jobs before, certain clients looking for an extra level of discretion or speedy results. His reputation as the best in the parsec was hardly a secret nor was it an exaggeration, and it got him more than his pick of pucks from Karga’s stack. A few times it had gotten him private meetings, face to face rendezvous in locked rooms and hidden basements with desperate customers seeking a chance to hire the Mandalorian. The pay for jobs like these was always as unconventional as the nature of the job itself, coming in the form of black market weapons or obscene amounts. Expensive.

He’d never been paid in the stolen riches of his own people, though.

He closed his fists tightly, the worn leather of his gloves groaning as he curled his hands into clubs. He could still feel the weight of that one single bar and the way that holding it made the foreign feeling intensify. His breathing was deep and heavy as he tried to fight the frustration and anger that were rising at his inability to reconcile his code with his creed.

The alloy, stripped from the bodies of his fallen brothers and sisters, melted down and stamped with the symbol of the Galactic Empire, looked almost grotesque to him in that form. It wasn’t currency. It wasn’t something to be traded or sold. It had more meaning than money. And it didn’t belong in the hands of the client.

It belonged in the hands of his people. The Tribe. And it was his duty to secure it. This is the way- he could already hear the Armorer’s modulated voice speaking the words as she hammered away at the metal, forming it back into a piece of gleaming, impenetrable plating. He could already see the flashes of his past that sparked each time he watched her work, the flames melting the walls he built around the memory of the last time he saw his parents. Each strike was a blast that brought him back to that day- his mother’s arms strong and tight as she hugged him one more time, his father’s steadfast determination to get him to safety. The day his future was written- in blood and beskar.

Even though he hated the thought of being paid in it, there was no scenario in which he was presented with the metal in any amount or form and he denied it. And with the promise of more upon the capture and delivery of the asset? The Mandalorian was many things but fool wasn’t one of them. This job wouldn’t be like others before it. It would no doubt be one of if not the most difficult and dangerous assignments he’d take in his life. But the unsavory demeanor of the client, the overly eager troopers, even the unusual tingling inside his own mind- none of it was enough to make him walk away from the brick or in turn, the job. Not the lack of information on the target or the zealous way that the man across from him spoke of having the asset in his custody.

But that was before. Before I saw the kid.

He moved without wasting time to think, and without taking his eyes off of the child that was staring up at him. Before the IG unit had even locked on to the small green thing peering up at them, his right arm was raised, his blaster putting a gaping hole straight through the bounty droid’s head.

It was supposed to be fifty years old. An adult. It... It wasn’t supposed to be a-

When the hatch on the hovering carriage that the child was tucked into opened, he saw more than the tiny being’s giant ears and enormous eyes as it shied away from the droid’s weapon. He saw himself, felt the helpless fear that he would never fully forget as the bunker that his parents had sacrificed themselves to get him to was torn open, a robotic assailant greeting him with the end of a blaster. But before he could even cover his eyes there had been another flash of movement as a man encased in armor, his face completely covered by a sleek helmet, appeared to dispatch the droid, extending a hand to help him climb out to safety.

It wasn’t supposed to be a foundling.

He had done his best to shake the unexpected connection to the child, closing the carrier and bringing it back to his ship, trying to treat it like any of the countless other targets that he’d captured. But it seemed that the more he tried to ignore it, the more that feeling in the back of his mind grew, two words bouncing around his brain as he set the course for Nevarro. Asset. Foundling. Asset. Foundling. Asset. Punching the shifter into drive, he took off before the other word had a chance to be the last.

He had naively hoped that once he made the drop off, delivering his quarry to the client, that he’d be free of the conflict- that he could collect his payment and return to the covert. That false hope popped and fell flat the second the first question was out of his mouth.

“How many fobs did you give out?”

It shouldn’t have mattered.

It never had before. Occasionally he’d run into another guild member while on assignment, and, more often than that he’d have to stave off other sloppier, non- guild hunters and mercenaries. High value targets tended to draw a lot of greedy attention from multiple sources. He had always come out on top, leaving his challengers empty-handed or incapacitated, and his target shackled or dead. Their presence was always negligible to him. Guild or not, no other bounty hunter came close to the Mandalorian in any measurable way.

Instead of a numerical answer, the client had merely stated that obtaining the asset- the foundling. The asset. The f- had been of great importance. The man had then set a camtono on the desk, pressing a button to open the pressurized unit and silencing the war of words. It was more pure beskar than he had ever seen outside of the covert. Stacks. He’d been drawn to it like a woolly moth to a flame, mesmerized by its dark shine. Stacks of the invaluable metal that belonged to his people, the people who had saved him, raised him, made him what and who he was. Taking another step, he couldn’t resist reaching out to touch it, feel it’s weight and know for sure that it was real. Stacks of the very same beskar that had been pillaged from the corpses of men and women who had taken the very same creed that he had.

He wondered what illicit riches the client had used to tempt the others into taking this job. Setting the bricks back into the container with the rest, he wondered if perhaps some of them hadn’t been offerings, but threats. He wouldn’t put it past the man, who still proudly wore the empire’s symbol around his neck- the symbol that had been pressed into each brick of beskar, as though it gave him some kind of right to possess it. He wondered why he was wondering these things, and before he could answer himself yet another question was tumbling from his lips; one brought on by movement in the corner of his vision as the child’s carriage trailed behind the doctor into an adjoining room.

“What are you going to do with it?”

While asking questions about the fates of the unfortunate beings he collected, most frozen in carbonite to keep them quiet and cooperative for the return journey, wasn’t standard procedure for a guild bounty hunter, following his instincts was, and the prickling had not ceased even after the camtono was sealed and handed over to him.

If anything it had become less of a needling, nagging feeling, and more of an acidic burn.

He hadn’t gotten an answer. He’d been paid, the job finished. It was time to move on. What was it that the client had said? Those parting words that had been laced with authoritarian venom? Something about restoring balance, about the beskar being returned to the Mandalorians, and things being as they should be?

Why then, had the entire trek back to the covert been consumed with those large round eyes as they seemed to plead with him not to leave? Where before there were two words, now there was just one.

Foundling.

It echoed through his brain with each spur studded step he took through the city. It followed him as he descended to the underground hideout that the Tribe had been forced into. It was what he heard when another Mandalorian had called his honor into question. Coward, the man had called him.

Was he right?

The Armorer had ended the scrum by reminding both men of the creed they’d taken. This is the way, she’d stated with finality before continuing to forge the beskar he’d reclaimed into a sleek new full set of armor. Again he saw his past with each strike of her tools against the hot metal. Again he saw himself in the same position that he’d found the child in. He’d refused the Mudhorn as his signet, and he’d left the excess beskar to be used for the foundlings under the Tribe’s care. But neither of those acts of penance erased the thing that had replaced the prickling; the guilt of turning the child over to those men and their agenda.

“The foundlings are our future.”

“I was once a foundling.”

Beskar may hold up against most forms of force. But not even the glinting, impenetrable breastplate he now wore could keep the guilt from curling around his heart beneath it. It squeezed tight as he reached for the small round piece that the child had unscrewed from the gear shifter.

This is wrong. This one is… He swallowed, eyes locked on to the silver orb between his fingers. This is wrong.

Slipping the ball safely into his pocket, he quickly flicked every switch back to the off position, the Razor Crest’s engines powering down as he stood.

The conflict between code and creed had come to a head, one superseding the other by a large margin of personal importance. He was a guild bounty hunter, and he’d delivered the asset to the client.

But he was a Mandalorian first, and the child was now his responsibility.

This is the way.

I have no real clue who to tag here, so if you would like to be removed from or added to this or any of my stories, please feel free to let me know!

@something-tofightfor @pheedraws @valkblue @gollyderek @alraedesigns @malionnes

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #mando #din djarin #the child #mando fic #the decision #idk what else to tag here i am out of my depth #this is the way i guess

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