#fire whoever approved this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonstruckme · 5 months

Note

Hi Mae!! I would love to read more about the dynamic between poly!marauders and reader. Like maybe some domestic fluff just showing the interaction between the boys and with reader. I love the way you write true poly with the boys together too 🥹🤍

Hi lovely, thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Shit!” Sirius hisses, another piece of popcorn splintering off his string. It’s nearly all cranberries at this point, and half the length of either yours or Remus’. “How are yours not breaking?”

“Patience,” Remus preaches, eyes on his needle as he slides it smoothly through yet another popcorn kernel.

“Sounds made up,” James scoffs. The remains of his own popcorn are littered about his lap and his fingers are stained pink with cranberry juice. His problems lie in inaccuracy as much as impatience, constantly getting ahead of himself and pricking his fingers rather than his target. Fortunately, Rugby Captain James Potter is no stranger to pain, so he only extends the injured finger towards where you sit on the floor for you to kiss each time before resuming his work.

“Completely agree.” Sirius is quick to hop on James’ half-constructed bandwagon. “They’re conspiring against us, keeping the real secrets of success to themselves.”

“They’re focussing on their work,” you say, grinning when Sirius’ foot nudges your shoulder meanly, “which is how they keep from messing up.”

“Cruel,” he murmurs, but you only hum, a wordless You know I’m right. And he does, because he goes quiet.

James could never stand silence. “It’s almost cold enough for a fire,” he remarks after nearly five seconds of it. “Maybe we could have one tomorrow?”

“You just want to chop firewood,” Remus accuses.

“I don’t mind,” you say quietly, looking down at your hands, and Sirius nods emphatically. Another piece of popcorn shatters in his hands, bits of it hitting your shoulder.

“Yeah, don’t deter him.”

“I don’t even get to chop it anymore since you started buying it at Tesco,” James complains, shooting Remus a resentful look. “Now I just want to watch fire. It’s the last caveman’s pleasure you’ve left me.”

You glance over, and Remus is looking downward, trying and failing to quell his smile. “Fine,” he relents. “We can pick some up tomorrow and have a fire.”

“Yes!” James leans around Sirius, planting a smacking kiss on Remus’ cheek. “Thank you.”

“S’no problem.” Remus has gone all soft and blushy. You and Sirius exchange a fond, knowing look.

“Hey, do you think we could pick up some of those gingerbread house kits while we’re there?” you ask the room. “We didn’t get a chance to do those last year.”

“Patience,” Remus reminds you, recovering. “It’s hardly the end of November, we’ve got a whole month for that.”

Your mouth pulls dissatisfiedly. “Yeah, but last year we thought the same thing and then we ran out of time.”

“You know what we should do?” James perks up. “Have a competition! Whoever makes the best gingerbread house in under an hour gets—”

“No,” you all say on top of each other.

You shake your head. “It’ll take all the fun out of it, Jamie.”

“You can’t put a time limit on creativity,” Sirius agrees. “Hey, I got three in a row!” He beams, holding his garland up for Remus’ approval, and the other boy appraises it for a second, nodding sagely.

“Well done.”

“Sorry,” you tell James, who’s still pouting after the hasty shut-down of his idea. “We can race at something else if you want to, but that sort of stuff is supposed to be more…”

“Peaceful,” Remus supplies, and you nod relievedly.

“Exactly.”

“S’fine,” James sulks. He sticks his needle through a cranberry, a pitiful whine escaping him when it comes out the other side harsher than he’d expected. He extends his hand toward you palm up, and you take it, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his finger. “Mm, now here.” He leans down, tapping the corner of his mouth. You smile, pecking him sweetly on the lips. He tastes like the peppermint chapstick he uses this time of year, which you love and Sirius abhors (he thinks all mint tastes like toothpaste). “Alright,” James says, lips curving against yours, “now it’s actually fine.”

“Scoundrel,” Sirius accuses. “My poor darling, do you feel used?”

“Not terribly,” you admit, but it’s no deterrence to Sirius, who reaches down to haul you into his lap. Your garland trails after you, overlapping with his. You settle in contentedly.

“Who’s the scoundrel now,” James objects. “You can’t just move her about like she’s got no will of her own.”

You’re perfectly happy to be wherever they want you, but you aren’t going to say that. “Does anyone fancy a hot chocolate? I just got those peppermint marshmallows.”

Sirius makes a face. “No thanks. James, make the girl a hot chocolate.”

“Why me?” James objects.

“I’ll have one too,” Remus says.

“It’s her idea, why doesn’t she make them?”

“Because she,” Sirius says, weaving his arms under yours to resume stringing up his garland in front of you, “is occupied. Go on.”

James grumbles, but sets down his work.

“Sorry,” you say, making your eyes extra big. It’s half sincere apology, half completely unapologetic beguilement, and James cracks quickly, kissing your cheek to show he’s not really upset. Then he kisses Sirius too, just for fun.

“I wanted a hot chocolate anyway,” he says, heading into the kitchen.

You fall into an easy silence as he works, the kettle gurgling in the background while you relax against Sirius’ chest, nearly finished with your garland. You wonder if you should offer to do his for him, even though you know the other two will definitely make fun of you for letting him off the hook. You think you will anyway.

“Oh!” Sirius straightens, causing you to shift against him uncomfortably. He ignores the slighted look you send him, bringing a hand to your shoulder to hold you more securely against him. You’re easily pacified. “If you want to have a competition, you and y/n should have a race for who can wrap the most presents.” He looks at you. “You’re always saying you love wrapping, yeah sweetheart?”

The endearment only slightly softens the look you’re giving him. Must everyone try to ruin your holiday rituals with racing and competitions? You know he’s only brought it up out of selfishness, too; Sirius hates wrapping gifts, and this is just another way for him to push the labor off on James and you.

James, unfortunately, lights brighter than the tree you’d set up earlier that day. “Yeah!” He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet. Remus eyes the boiling water he’s pouring out at the same time warily. “What do you say, lovie? Maybe a couple of days before Christmas we can divvy up the presents that aren’t for us, then we just see who finishes first!”

“Didn’t you already lose that competition the other night?” Remus quips. Sirius erupts in laughter behind you, but James only shoots him a hostile look (or his version of a hostile look, more of a squint than anything) before his eyes flit back to you hopefully.

You roll your eyes, but this is one competition you think you might actually win. “Fine,” you say, smiling when he pumps his fist. “But I don’t think you know what you’re getting into, Potter. My gift wrapping skills are legendary.”

“Oh, my love,” James croons, grinning as he carries in two mugs of hot chocolate. “My sweet, naive girl.” He passes one to Remus and the other to you, dropping a kiss on your temple. “I won’t go easy on you this time.”

846 notes · View notes

azrielbrainrot · 2 months

Text

Mind Over Matter

Eris x Reader

Description: Eris sees you at your lowest and you get a glimpse behind the mask.

Warnings: Angst, Domestic Violence, Injury

Word Count: 3550

Notes: In case it's confusing this is set before Fire on Fire. Hope you enjoy!

part of the fire on fire universe

The forest looked beautiful today. The red and orange leaves cast shadows over the whole clearing, and from the tree branch you were sitting at, you could see the birds flying and even some bunnies hopping around the bushes. It had been raining all week but it finally let up this morning, the sun was now shining high in the sky making it a perfect day to sit and read outside.

Even if the season never changes, you can tell apart the “beginning” and “end” of autumn. The leaves are just starting to fall, meaning this would be the beginning of the season. In a few months when the leaves are mostly on the ground, it will be the “end” and then the cycle will repeat itself. You always preferred this time when the sun is still shining and the forest is alive.

It might be summertime in the solar courts from your calculations, not that you've ever stepped foot out of this one, or even out of the city. As much as you love the forests tinged in orange, you can't help but wonder what it would be like if they gave way to different sights every few months.

Perhaps it would make autumn more enjoyable if it wasn't constantly upon you. You think you wouldn't hate the spring or summer, when the sun is warmer and there isn't as much rain, when different flowers bloom making the forests turn into different shades of green and brown and so many other colors.

You haven't been this deep into the woods in a long time, your mother and father had both finally left the house for long enough at the same time after what felt like forever. With the rain, your mother hadn't been invited to any tea parties and your father always seemed to be working in his office nowadays, never even leaving to attend any meetings. Seems the High Lord had given him some important job.

You'd feel bad for whoever had the misfortune of their company today but these are the few moments of peace you can steal for yourself, and you've been praying to The Mother that something came up so your father was called to the Forest House or even further. If it was something scandalous enough it would take your mother to her friend's houses to discuss it among themselves too.

You get so lost in your thoughts and the book you're reading, in the calmness and silence the forest brings you that it's only when you look up at the sky and see it starting to turn the same orange tone as the trees that you realize the sun is almost setting, you were late. You weren't sure how long your parents would be gone for, hopefully they weren't coming before dinner or they would already be looking for you.

Gathering your skirt, you hop down from the thick branch you've been sitting on, shoving your book into the old bag you once stole from one of the many closets in your house. It took you a few tries, and reading a couple of books, but you had managed to charm it to hold a lot more than its size would lead you to believe. You've been using it to keep books, dried flowers you've turned into bookmarks, random trinkets you've found over the years and even a couple of pants. Anything your parents wouldn't approve of you having really, things you actually called your own. Picking it up, you winnow to its hiding place - an old hollowed tree close to the edge of the woods behind your house - and quickly cover it so no one comes across it.

The maids knew you weren't inside, thinking you were in the gazebo watching the flowers, or feeling sorry for yourself, whatever they told themselves you did all day, so winnowing straight to your room wasn't an option. There was also the risk of any of them lingering around and seeing you. The garden had to do then, the servants had probably all left the grounds by then, retiring to their own homes.

You winnow deep into the garden so you're surrounded by bushes, close to the crimson roses that overlooked the side entrance to the estate. You weren't usually allowed on this side of the garden, it was too close to the servants' gate, meaning any of the “lowly” males could see you and you wouldn't know how to defend yourself from their advances. Sometimes you think your father is convinced you need instructions for breathing too.

Waving a hand over yourself to clean off any obvious dirt for the moment, you almost sprint closer to the gazebo, the place the maids would come looking for you when it was time to get ready for dinner.

Your heart stalls in your chest when you turn the corner to find your father walking the grounds. His face turns into stone as soon as he lays eyes on you, making you drop your skirt immediately, smoothing it with your hands out of habit, always trying to appear as polished as you can in front of him.

By his side stood your fiancé, looking as elegant as ever in a black three piece suit, topped off with a muted red tie to match the soles of his shoes. You've never seen his hair this long, it was combed back and tied in a small knot. Your gaze moves back to your father's disappointed face when his eyes meet yours, always so intense and calculating, suffocating even.

It had been years since you'd last been caught outside by your father and, to make matters worse, Eris was here too. At least he only saw you in the garden, even if further in than you're normally allowed. You don't even want to think what would happen if he'd seen you winnow from the woods.

“What are you doing outside at nightfall?” Your father was clearly displeased with you, not only for going against his wishes but also for doing it in front of such an important person.

“I simply got distracted looking at the flowers,” you try to sound as demure as possible, thinking maybe you could fix this by playing dumb since your father probably didn't want to make a scene in front of Eris, “They're blooming so beautifully.”

“You must have been really distracted,” he says as he turns his head menacingly, “since you know you're not allowed to wander around unattended.”

His tone almost makes you flinch, your face dropping. It had been foolish of you to think you could talk yourself out of the situation. Eris' presence wouldn't make your father less volatile, it only made things worse. He wanted to show the other male he was capable of handling his family, not wanting to appear weak in front of the heir.

You hadn't stopped to think that this could also make you less viable for marriage. His daughter being personally chosen by the High Lord as his eldest son's fiancé was your father's greatest accomplishment, and he knew better than you that Beron's mind was easily changed, he wouldn't want Eris to think you might not be the best option after all.

In this moment you ponder tarnishing your reputation as much as you could to get out of this marriage. If only it wouldn't cost you your life with it. Your father always hated the fact that you were born female. A male would bring the family name glory but a female could only hope to wed into a noble family. If you were to lose the High Lord's favor your father would likely lock you away from the world or even dispose of you altogether.

Your father lets out what you think he means as a disapproving sigh, but you can hear the excitement behind it, can see it on his face. He's grown to enjoy the moments when he can put you or your mother in your place, it makes him feel important. He approaches you, moving away from a slightly confused looking Eris.

You knew what was coming as soon as you saw your father pull his hand back, you've been here before many times after all. You close your eyes, feeling the heat approach your face, trying not to let your instincts take over and try to avoid it, that only makes it worse. The force of the slap makes your head turn to the side, your body almost following, but the worst part is the flames, you have to bite your lip not to let out any sound as you feel the burn eating at your skin. You faintly smell burning and try not to think about it, knowing it's the smell of your own flesh.

He holds your chin with a still too warm hand, even if already rid of the flames, and looks into your eyes closely, wanting to revel in your pain. “I've taught you better than this.” He adds another light slap to your face for good measure before letting you go completely. It almost hurts more than the first one, the skin was so tender even just moving your face hurt.

Taking a weak breath in, you try to calm your mind, ignore the pain and rage warring inside you. Clutching tightly onto your dress to keep your hands occupied, in case your mind slips and you burn his face in rage the same way he keeps doing to yours. You feel the flames wanting to rise up to your skin but firmly snuff them out, making sure they stay safely hidden deep inside you until it's the right time.

The pain has gotten easier to bear over the years, now you close your eyes not from fear but to calm yourself. You don't have the strength to go against him yet or a plan for a safe escape, you refuse to lose your life so easily after enduring this for so long. One day you will make him pay for everything he has put you through but first you need a plan and you need to be stronger.

This time it was different though, Eris was watching, you could feel his gaze burning into your skin deeper than your father's fiery palm ever could. There had been witnesses to his cruelty before, even outside your family and servants, you had seen pity, satisfaction and even trained blankness in their faces, had learned to ignore them and not ask for help under any circumstance - it took you too long to realize that the ones showing pity know your pain or are as powerless as you.

But, for some reason, knowing Eris, your future husband, the heir to the throne, is watching makes you want to cry for the first time since you were a child. You bite your lip and clench your fists as hard as you can, opening your eyes only enough to look to the ground, hoping your face isn't giving away too much or the burn was at least enough to hide it.

Suddenly interested in studying the cobbled stones you've walked on for decades, you notice your earring fell off, the ruby glinting in one of the little nooks in between stones, suffocated with no place to escape to just like you felt. You briefly wondered if it had simply gotten loose with the force or if it was ripped off your earlobe, but the pain on the side of your face was too intense to be able to pinpoint a specific area. A ripped earlobe was the least of your concerns anyway.

“What do you think you're doing?” All your thoughts evaporate when you hear his voice. He sounds uncharacteristically angry, you've never seen him lose the teasing lilt to his words or crafted nonchalant tone. You can't help but look up at him with wide eyes, not even remembering the shame you had felt before.

“Not to worry. Her face will be healed by tomorrow morning,” your father barely hesitates, assuming the anger wasn't directed at him hitting you, “I wouldn't give you damaged goods, my lord.”

Sometimes you wonder how your father had lived for so long, how he managed to become important enough that he not only worked for Beron but the High Lord would also want his heir to marry you, when he could be this dense. It was clear Eris wasn't worried about your face, his anger was almost palpable.

You know he wears a mask like no one else, you've seen it in action, but, if your father hadn't been so self-absorbed, if it was Beron standing in front of him, this would end very differently. Because the mask had fallen at the same time your stupid earring did. What was staring at you was Eris' true face. Your father was too thick to notice but you could gamble your life on it.

It showed his unrestrained fury and power rumbling just beneath his skin, you're not sure how your father didn't notice the way the temperature rose around them, the air suddenly resembling the summer you had just been longing for. His gaze burned hotter than lava and the planes of his face carved out the perfect personification of fury. His face was the perfect picture of the new High Lord of the Autumn Court. It was all fire, beautifully and all consuming.

He was making a bigger effort of not hurting your father than you were. When your eyes met you could almost see him forcefully pushing his feelings away, stuffing himself down with them, burying them deep inside him to keep the plot he's been writing for centuries intact. Still, his gaze lingered on your marred cheek too long, you think you even see his fingers spasm, as if wanting to reach out, if it was to console you or to snap your father's neck you couldn't be sure but the sentiment behind it was the same.

You almost gasp as the realization comes to you. The look on his face isn't all anger but what's underlining it isn't pity, it's the face of someone who understands. He's been in your same place. It shouldn't be a surprise to you, Beron's cruelty will far outlive his name, but it's hard to imagine Eris, inarguably the second most powerful fae in this court, in your place.

Your stomach twists at the implications. If even he can't fight Beron, what hope do you have of escaping your father? Especially now that he's aligned himself with the High Lord? It's in this moment that you know Eris' warnings were correct, there's no use running, you wouldn't make it but a couple steps.

“She needs a healer to fix her face,” you can almost see him choosing his words, playing into your father's narrative enough while trying to help you as much as he can. You're starting to think you have Eris figured out. Is this how he has survived this long? “See that it gets done quickly.”

He leaves without another word, turning away from you father and letting his eyes linger on your burnt flesh one more time before winnowing out of your estate. You don't look away from where he'd just been even when your father grabs your arm and pulls you along on his way inside the house, cursing you with every step. You wouldn't be able to leave your room and escape into the forest for a while.

Later that night, when you're returning to your room, after a healer treated your wounds as usual, and made sure Eris' goods wouldn't be permanently damaged as your father had so lovingly put it, you find a vaguely familiar, faint scent lingering in the air, it makes your heart stop.

Thankfully, the maids didn't accompany you to your room, they didn't like treating you cruelly but helping you could get them in trouble with your father so they'd rather just watch in silence, or, even better, turn their face whenever it was possible.

If they had followed you, they would have noticed the scent, would run and tell your father. You're not sure if they'd recognize it as his, he doesn't visit your house often after all, but the spicy scent was unmistakably male. It's better not to think of the amount of trouble you would be in if they smelled it.

You walk to the window first, opening it as wide as you can so the chilly night air fills the room instead, making sure there would be no residuals in the morning when they came to wake you. Looking up at the full moon in the cloudy sky, feeling the wind turn to ice against the side of your face still covered in a thick cooling salve and wrapped in bandages, you hesitate one more time before moving to the foreign items sitting at your vanity table, undoubtedly left behind by your dear fiancé.

Eris left you a tiny bottle with some strange bluish liquid inside accompanied by a small red velvet box tied off with a golden ribbon. You know he won't poison you, the bargain won't allow it, but you weren't sure what else he could do if he let his imagination run wild. You decide reading the note set on top of the box might give you an idea.

He has no right to treat you like this. I'm sorry I can't do more to help you for now but I promise there will come a day when he won't be able to hurt you anymore.

The note wasn't signed but you knew it was his. Even after your agreement, you didn't think he would try to make you feel better, even going as far as risking getting caught while dropping this off, since this fragile alliance of yours had been neither of your first choices.

You pick up the bottle and uncork it, immediately recognizing the calming scent of a sleeping draught. It would help with your nightmares. This is a generous amount too, it can last you a while. You set it back down and untie the ribbon, opening the box to find some chocolate and sugar cookies.

A sleeping draught and cookies. Never in your life had you received anything like this. You can't even admit it to yourself but this is by far the most thoughtful gift you've ever gotten from anyone.

He had to have an idea of how awful your father was to you, you told him as much when you made the bargain, but he might not have realized he went as far as physically hurting you. Eris knows the pain of an abusive father, of being haunted by their cruelty even in your dreams. So, he gave you the draught to help you even a little and the cookies to console you, something sweet to fend off the pain.

Just when you were starting to feel thankful for Eris, thinking you might have been too harsh on him before, you notice something else written on the other side of the note. Turning it around and reading it as well.

I wasn't aware you could winnow so well. Just how much are you hiding from your family, doll?

Your entire body tenses at the words, turning the paper into flames lest anyone reads it. He knows. You've managed to hide this ability from everyone for decades, but now Eris, of all people, knows. You're not sure how he noticed when your father didn't. He could have arrived before him, could have wandered around the grounds without anyone knowing. Is it possible that he knew where you went? No, he couldn't have come from the forest in time to talk to your father and see you.

You hold your hand up to rub over your chest, simultaneously trying to calm your racing heart and feeling the mark of the bargain woven into your soul, trying to reassure yourself. He's your ally. He won't tell anyone, the bargain won't allow it. But what could he do with this information? You had the upper hand when you made the bargain but it feels like he just stepped ahead.

After a few moments of breathing in the cold air still seeping into the room and settling your mind, you sit down on the chair by the vanity unceremoniously, letting your head drop into your hands for a moment. A heavy sigh escapes you as you open the cookie box again. What kind of person sends you gifts and includes a mildly threatening message with them. Must he always push your buttons like this?

You take a bite out of a chocolate cookie and let the delicious taste melt in your mouth, eyeing the small bottle. It seems you'll need to use it tonight, you definitely need a good dreamless sleep after the rollercoaster of emotions you've been through the whole day.

What you fail to notice is that, between the chocolate and sugar cookies you keep munching on and the annoyance now targeted towards Eris, your face barely even hurts anymore and you weren't left thinking of the deep rooted ache in your soul after your father hurt you yet another time.

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris x you #eris vanserra x you #eris x y/n #eris vanserra x y/n #eris #eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar x you #eris fic #eris vanserra fic #fire on fire universe #divider by saradika

364 notes · View notes

cobaltperun · 1 month

Text

Woe out the Storm (10) - Crying Lightning

Wednesday Addams x female Reader

Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.

Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 4.4k

-Uninviting, but not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are-

“Are you going to tell me what happened two nights ago?” Wednesday’s question made you lower the book you were reading.

You sighed and got up from your bed. The lights in Wednesday and Enid’s part of the room were already dimmed as Wednesday set up candles and whatever else she needed to hold a séance. “I got attacked,” you knew better than to try and keep silent. Frankly, you were surprised Wednesday didn’t bring it up sooner.

She just turned to look at you, obviously not impressed by your very detailed explanation.

The look in her eyes made you look away as you leaned against the wall in her part of the room. “I went to mayor’s office, I thought I could dig up some information on all of this in the archive. Maybe figure out how all of this connects? Crackstone, the Gates family, that message burned onto the lawn, that monster, it can’t all be a coincidence, and then when I typed in ‘Fire will rain’ I felt that…” you still didn’t know how to describe whatever or whoever you saw.

“The one that attacked you,” Wednesday spoke up, causing you to nod.

“Can’t you give up? I don’t want that to happen to you as well and I’m not dumb enough to think it was an accident,” you finally looked at her again, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she’d let this case go. But she didn’t see that. Those eyes. The chill… it felt as if you were one moment from dying, as if your entire existence was left to the mercy of the one who attacked you.

No. Attack would imply actual effort. You didn’t even see it coming, you were effortlessly, utterly defeated and outclassed in every possible way.

Your dad was stronger than you, faster than you, had better range and control over his lightning. Being a raiju meant you were more dangerous than most outcasts, but as far as other raiju went, you weren’t even average.

You could still follow your dad. You could still understand and somewhat quantify the difference between the two of you.

You couldn’t even comprehend the difference between you and the one who attacked you.

“I’m not going to give up just like that,” yet Wednesday remained stubborn.

“Why do you even care about Nevermore in the first place?” you still couldn’t understand why it mattered to her to stop the school’s demise. She hated this place when she came here, saying she was forced to be here, she planned on running away and now she wanted to save it?

Wednesday paused for a moment. “It’s a challenge, I’m not backing away from one. You are free to stop involving yourself with me. In fact, I would prefer it if you did that,” she began lighting the candles and from where you were you couldn’t see her face.

Well, that stung. It stung way more than you were willing to admit to yourself. It wasn’t like you needed Wednesday’s approval, but her all but telling you to leave her alone just like that didn’t leave you entirely unaffected. “Right, I’ll leave you to,” you motioned to the candles and the Ouija board with the name ‘Goody’ written on it. “this,” maybe she just wasn’t in the mood.

Well, if that was what she wanted, maybe you really should give her some space. So, with that in mind, you went outside through the window and zapped to the roof. It was a nice, slightly cold night, with clear skies, meaning there wouldn’t be any storms tonight. Hell, you might even spend the night there.

You didn’t think you were delusional. In fact, you thought you had a fairly acceptable read on people, even ones as closed off as Wednesday. She cared, in her own way, and maybe she only showed it when you couldn’t see it, but she did. She stayed by your side the whole night, and for Wednesday that was huge. And the dance, and letting you keep her knife, and all the other small ways you managed to catch her showing you she cared.

You frowned, glaring at the stars and the Moon. Tomorrow was thirteenth, Wednesday’s birthday, and somehow, something just shifted between you two and there was a rift you weren’t sure how to deal with. Wednesday preferred being alone, sure, and you figured she wasn’t used to caring about people. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but a part of you thought that maybe, just maybe, she was trying to push you away because she wasn’t sure how to deal with those emotions. Or maybe you really were being delusional and were coping with the possibility that Wednesday plain and simple didn’t care and that she found your presence in her life annoying.

But she showed she cared. Thing said she cared!

You couldn’t help but groan, closing your eyes in frustration.

Why was she so complicated?!

~X~

Annoyed.

That’s what Wednesday was right now.

A surprise birthday party? A complete waste of her time, though an impressive subterfuge by whoever came up with this plan. Why were all these people here, anyway? They were Enid’s friends, well, most of them, she was sure Xavier was there because he liked her for whatever reason.

Still, she should have realized something wasn’t right when she saw the magazine cutouts used for the message. She didn’t pay enough attention to all the possibilities.

You not being there threw her off. Since it was Cracstone’s crypt going there would mean taking the boat and you wouldn’t approach that much water to save your own life, let alone for a surprise birthday party. So, despite Thing missing and suspicious invitation, she assumed you’d be there as well if her birthday was the reason behind the invitation.

Perhaps that was the logic behind your absence as well. That you being there might tip Wednesday off. Or perhaps she was giving whoever thought of this too much credit and you simply refused to face your greatest fear just to attend a party you probably knew Wednesday would despise.

Either way, her time was wasted, she was pushing you away successfully, and while that should have made her happy it was actually making her feel very irritated, and people she couldn’t care less about expected her to celebrate her birthday with them. If Enid absolutely had to throw her a surprise party, couldn’t she have done it in your own room, with just the four of you there. Wednesday might have even tolerated that enough to cut the cake.

Writing on the crypt caught her attention. “Wait, that’s Latin,” she knelt on one knee to take a better look. “Fire will rain, when I rise,” she translated.

“Okay, that’s not really a wish,” Enid said, but Wednesday was already too focused on the phrase to consider that. Maybe this wasn’t a complete waste of time after all.

“The first part of that was burned onto Nevermore’s lawn, it can’t be a coincidence,” she reached forward, touching the stone with the tips of her fingers and then it happened. The same sensation as her other visions overtook her and she found herself on the ground.

“Crackstone is coming,” she heard as she opened her eyes and realized she was in front of a gate she didn’t recognize.

“Goody,” she recognized the woman behind the gate and now that she wasn’t focused on other things happening in her vision, she realized it was almost like she was looking in a mirror. The only actual difference was the blonde hair. The height, the face, the resemblance was undeniably disturbing.

“You’re the Raven in my bloodline,” she spoke and disappeared. “Wednesday,” she appeared next to Wednesday.

Wednesday turned to her, finally she could ask what she wanted. “I was told you could teach me how to control my ability,” maybe that way she could at least predict when a vision would happen.

“There is no controlling a raging river. You must learn to navigate it without drowning. Time is not on our side,” she turned to the gate. “To stop Crackstone, this place you must seek.”

No teaching then, the dead were as disappointingly insistent on wasting her time as the living. “Do you always speak in riddles?”

“Do you always seek simple answers?” Goody replied immediately.

That irked her, for more than one reason. “Like using a raiju? I won’t do that,”

“You have no time for other solutions. Raiju is your best weapon,” there wasn’t even a hint of hesitation, just because Goody more than likely used her raiju. Not even her mother telling her many believed Goody was in love with him persuaded Wednesday to understand Goody.

She wasn’t in love with you, yet she refused to use you, to put your life in danger. “Y/N isn’t my weapon,” she wasn’t budging on this, she was adamant on standing her ground on this, no matter how unreasonable it would sound to Goody.

“She will be, when you realize this is bigger than one life,” driven mad by her desire for vengeance, Goody couldn’t stop herself, she couldn’t stop even if stopping meant she could keep her raiju by her side.

Wednesday glared, not only did Goody say she couldn’t teach her, but she also spoke as if Wednesday should just throw you into danger and Wednesday wouldn’t do that. No matter what Goody said.

“Do not grow attached to your raiju. The path of a Raven is a solitary one. You end up alone, unable to trust others, only seeing the darkness within them,” Goody warned her.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” she could already only see darkness in most people. And being alone was the best outcome for Wednesday.

“It should,” she vanished as if she was made of smoke. “Use your raiju,” her last words echoed and Wednesday despised how Goody went from saying ‘a’ raiju to ‘your’ raiju.

~X~

Wednesday’s attempts to push you away seemed to be failing miserably, as you casually approached her first thing in the morning with a long black box in hand.

“Hey, birthday girl,” you offered her a cheeky grin, confidently striding over to her table. At least you didn’t wish her happy birthday or open with the song, though being called ‘birthday girl’ was nearly as bad.

“Don’t call me that,” she warned, causing you to raise your hands in mock surrender.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you set the box on her table and took a step back. “I know things have been a bit, awkward, I guess, between us, but it’s your birthday, so I figured we can set it aside?” maybe she misread your confidence, because now that she properly looked you in the eyes she saw a hint of weakness, an uncertainty you were trying to cover up.

Doubt.

Her attempts were working, it wouldn’t take much longer to break your resolve.

It still didn’t feel as good as she hoped it would.

“Thank you,” she still thanked you as she carefully took the box, feeling the weight in her hands, it wasn’t too heavy, it was definitely lighter than it looked, so likely something that couldn’t be packed in a more convenient package. She glanced at you once more before opening the box. When she saw what was inside it not even she could hide her surprise.

“I did take one of your own, so I figured this was only fair,” you rubbed the back of your head sheepishly as she pulled the knife out of the box. It was a work of art, its weight perfect and handle perfect for a firm grip regardless of the intended use of the knife. The sheath was made of leather, light gray with black stripes. Wednesday pulled the knife out of it and slid her fingers across the side of the blade. The pitch-black steel looked sharp and the handle, decorated with light gray stripes, similar to those of a tiger, looked as if it was personalized. Was it one of your own knives? Wednesday knew you had your own collection, because you used them to zap around so you naturally developed an interest in knives, at least that was how you explained it when she asked.

“Was this your own knife?” she asked.

“It felt like the only gift worth giving,” you still wouldn’t look her in the eyes, and you clearly weren’t going to explain any further, so Wednesday didn’t push, at least this time.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, setting the knife next to her typewriter.

You smiled, as if realizing how sincere her gratitude was, and took a couple of steps forward before crouching down and resting your forearms on her table. “Okay, I’m not going to ask you to confirm this, but I’ve been thinking, and I think you are dealing with something in your own way, and I might be wrong, but I feel like I should give you space.”

Somehow Wednesday’s cold dead heart sped up, hammering nails into her chest from the inside so hard she nearly looked down to see if nails were really coming out of her.

“I’ll give you all the space you want, but I’ll be right there,” you pointed your thumb behind you, toward your part of the room. “So, if you need or want me to go somewhere with you, I will,” you paused, or finished, but it sounded like you were just pausing. Still, you got back up so maybe you were done. “Just, if you think it might be dangerous, please let me come with you,” you requested, your gaze so soft Wednesday was now absolutely certain nails were about to pierce through her chest.

She needed to put a stop to this, because she had no control over what was happening between you two and that disturbed her, and not in a good way.

“Oh, yeah, uh, I shouldn’t say this, but heads up, Enid’s gift is… something, yeah, let’s go with that,” you chuckled uncomfortably, and that was the only warning Wednesday would get. Granted, it was more than enough for her to mentally prepare, but nothing could have prepared her for what Enid called a snood.

Not even her composure kept her jaw from dropping.

She wondered what kind of threat or blackmail you managed to use to avoid wearing one too, since the blonde werewolf clearly complained about you refusing to wear your own.

~X~

Wednesday Addams was a constant source of worry and you were just fully realizing that. “Did you just say she was in the back of mayor’s car when he got hit by a car?” you repeated what Enid just told you with your head clutched between your hands. How could one person go through so many things? That would probably remain a mystery to you.

“Wednesday!” Enid exclaimed when Wednesday came back, looking like nothing happened. Like there was no need to worry about what she saw. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m perfectly fine, in fact, it was on my bucket list,” of course it was. She met your worried gaze just for a moment and then made her way to her table to, soon enough, start her writing time. You figured you could give her some time, just like how she gave you some time after you were attacked.

You knew it wasn’t entirely fair to make a fuss about Wednesday sneaking out, when you did the same thing. Still, you were a raiju, in theory you could have dealt with almost anything, or at least escaped if needed. Wednesday was, aside from her vision, almost a normie.

So, you decided to give Wednesday a day to process every thought she had regarding what she saw.

You didn’t expect the next time Wednesday would speak to you would be while she was in the bathroom, calling you to come inside. And then, just as you stepped inside, the world went black.

~X~

You woke up to the feeling of excruciating pain as your body instinctively held the lightning in from bursting through. “Damn it, Wednesday!” you yelled, feeling the anger rise as you realized you were tied up in a bathtub filled with water. At least she placed you there in a way that didn’t allow you to drown.

She should have. Because you were going to be beyond angry when you got out. That is if you could. Sure, you could probably damage the ropes, but Thing was right there, guarding you and making sure you weren’t capable of bursting through with lightning. He was too close for a burst of lightning to actually work and set you free without hurting Thing in the process.

“Thing, buddy come on, get away so I can get free,” you pleaded, gritting your teeth as the pain increased. You were submerged up to your chest, and it was getting increasingly more difficult to stay in control over your lightning. If it continued like this you might actually shift right in the bathroom. Thing, however, refused, leaving no space for arguments as he confirmed his loyalties were primarily to Wednesday.

“Wednesday when I see you again,” you didn’t intend to give her space like this! How could she even do this to you?! Knowing full well what leaving you in water would mean for you! Insistent knocking on the window made your eyes widen. Maybe this torture could end.

“Wednesday!” Xavier called out, clearly from within the room. Usually, you’d complain about his nerve, but now you really didn’t care.

“Xavier! Get over here and grab Thing for me!” you yelled back and took a couple of deep breaths to make sure you were still in control over your lightning as he came in with his eyes covered. “You kinda need your eyes, and I have my clothes on, you dumbass,” you rolled your eyes, no longer having patience for any of this.

He opened his eyes and rushed outside the bathroom right away. You were expecting too much. “How did you even end up in that situation?!”

“Wednesday happened to me!” you snapped at him, glaring at Thing since he was the next best option with Wednesday gone for now. “Thing probably knows where she is, so go ahead and deal with that, just get him out of the bathroom,” you demanded.

You could hear Xavier taking deep breaths before rushing in and trying to grab Thing. Thing easily dodged him, but Xavier remained persistent and a few minutes later you could set yourself free. Now all that was left was to deal with Wednesday.

Thing gave in and revealed to Xavier Wednesday’s location, and you couldn’t help but glare at Thing. Seriously? Xavier got to know and you didn’t?! “I’m going after Wednesday. Do you want to come with me or-“ he stopped talking the moment he saw your glare. “I guess not. That’s fine! I’ll leave you alone!” he raised his arms, surrendering as he back away as quickly as he possibly could.

Xavier left you alone, knowing better than to stay close to you right now, especially since you were seething. Pushing you away was one thing. This? This was a whole other thing. You nearly tore your clothes off before grabbing a towel to dry off. And then you sat down at your table, your anger not fading even a fraction by the time Enid came back into the room, clearly distraught.

“What happened?” you were honestly surprised with how calm you sounded.

“Wednesday happened! She took me and Tyler to the Gates mansion and the monster was there! We could have died, Y/N! Tyler got hurt! Wednesday doesn’t care, she just wants to solve her mystery!” Enid cried out, and any other time you would have comforted her, you would have tried to calm her down, this time you just left the room, nearly slamming the doors behind you.

~X~

Somehow, Wednesday managed to avoid getting expelled, and she managed to avoid getting Enid and Xavier into trouble. It was a close call, and Tyler could have died, but she was one big step closer to solving this case. That was all that mattered, and she’d figure out how the mansion got cleared of all the evidence so quickly, she just needed to sit and think about it.

“Wednesday!” she froze near the top of the stairs. This was the first time she heard you that angry. Thing warned her you would get angry at her over what she did, she just didn’t realize just how angry you’d get. She didn’t see this kind of anger even when you faced Rowan.

Wednesday guessed your eyes were red and she was… wrong. They were flashing between red and orange.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” you stopped right at the top of the stairs as Wednesday climbed up the rest of the way.

“I was making sure you were giving me space,” she wasn’t going to show weakness to you. She wasn’t afraid, but she didn’t feel good either.

You snorted at that, clearly not happy with that response. You turned away from her, perhaps not even able to look at her with how angry you were. “It that how you call it? First you put me through pain and nearly forced me to shift and now you put Enid in danger! Both of you could have died!”

“No one died and-“ before she could finish her sentence you spun around and pointed your finger at her, nearly jabbing her in the chest.

“No! This is where you shut it! You’ve seen what that monster did to Rowan, you’ve seen what happened to me, yet you chose to take a normie and a werewolf that can’t wolf out with you to a place that is clearly connected to this entire mystery of yours,” you stopped yelling, but your words were still laced with so much rage you didn’t even need to yell for Wednesday to feel it. “And you might as well be a normie as well, since all you have are those visions. Why am I even trying, you won’t listen to me no matter what I say,” you took a step back, getting closer to the stairs. “You know what? I’m done. You win, Wednesday,” you pulled out the knife she threw at you, the same knife you decided to claim as your own and pushed it toward her. You waited just enough for Wednesday to figure out what you meant and wrap her fingers around the handle. “At least try not to die.”

You turned around, intent on going down the stairs. Against her every instinct, against her dislike for being touched or touching someone, she reached out and grabbed your hand. “Where are you going?” didn’t you hear the rain?

“To my shed,” at least you were still answering her questions even if the way you glared back at her made her uncomfortable.

“It’s raining,” she couldn’t look at you, yet she couldn’t let go of you either.

You pulled your hand away, yanked it out of Wednesday’s hold and for a moment Wednesday dared to think she would have preferred it if you electrocuted her. “Don’t,” you warned and you didn’t need to finish that sentence. She got the message loud and clear, she shouldn’t even think of interfering. Not after what happened tonight.

The words she should have said remained stuck in her throat, as if someone wrapped them in a barbed wire and forced Wednesday to swallow them. “Wait,” it wasn’t enough, you were already halfway down the stairs by the time she managed to force even that one word out.

And it was just the start. Not even ten minutes later she was left entirely alone. After you, Enid left as well, not as angry as you were, but upset nonetheless.

Wednesday couldn’t blame her. She didn’t ask for friends, but Enid became that to her regardless. And you… it felt different with you, it felt different than anything she ever felt before, and it was a powerful feeling she couldn’t even begin to handle.

For the first time in her life being alone didn’t feel so good and Wednesday curled up against the window, right at the middle of it. She shouldn’t feel like she was feeling right now, she should have been fine with this, happy that she got what she wanted, at least with you.

Enid leaving hurt as well, even if the kind of pain wasn’t the same, but that hurt as well. Wednesday realized far too late that somehow, the two of you tore your way into her heart and now your very absence hurt her. Thing came up to her shoulder, offering a comforting pat. Telling her that he was right would have hurt less than his compassion and reassurance that both you and Enid would come back.

Wednesday pulled her knees to her chest, hiding her face as she curled up as much as she could. The rain hitting the window, and lightning in the distance made her cover her ears. You were out there in the storm and it was all her fault. Abruptly, Wednesday got up and went to your part of the room, hoping that some distance from the windows would let her ignore the storm outside.

She wasn’t entirely sure how it got to that point, but in one moment she was standing in front of your bed and then she was taking her boots off, leaving them next to your bed and lying down, not even in her usual position. She just curled up once again and clutched your pillow.

She should have been honest with you, she should have told you about what her mother told her, she should have told you she wanted you to stay.

Somehow, she kept doing everything she shouldn’t have with you, or in some way connected with you. She shouldn’t have fallen asleep in your bed, but she did it anyway, and she didn’t wake up even when Thing pulled your thin blanket over her. And there, completely alone yet more surrounded by you than ever before, she remained for the rest of the night, her senses and emotions overwhelmed.

A/N: Four chapters in roughly a week? Honestly, I’m very happy with that. Please tell me what you think about this chapter, I’d really like to know if you think I’m making Wednesday seem OOC? Especially with the last scene.

#wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #enid sinclair #jenna ortega x reader

159 notes · View notes

batneko · 1 year

Text

A "wicked enchantress" is running around inflicting people with fairy-tale-inspired curses. Peach's castle gets hit with a Sleeping Beauty curse, and the usual solution doesn't work so Mario and Luigi go chasing down the enchantress.

They catch up easily enough, but she blasts Mario with a spell that turns him into a wolf in a red hoodie. Luigi has just enough time to think "wait a minute, Little Red Riding Hood isn't about a curse," before he's zapped with a "Cinderella" curse. He's stuck in a green ballgown and masquerade mask that won't come off.

Of course, that doesn't bother him much, and turning Mario into a wolf only gave him natural weapons, so they kick the enchantress's butt for a few rounds before she runs away.

Meanwhile, Bowser's castle was hit with a Beauty and the Beast curse... while Bowser wasn't home, meaning Junior is now stuck as a beast and honestly having a great time. The servants are pretty unhappy though and it'll be a pain having Junior shed all over everything (and privately Bowser feels bad he wasn't there to protect everyone, plus kissing Junior's newly-fluffy head didn't break the curse which makes Bowser terrified that he doesn't fully love his son and really is as selfish as people say) so he sets out to find whoever did this and rip them apart.

Soon thereafter he runs into what appears to be a princess with very cool taste in pets, and can't resist turning on the charm.

Luigi would have cleared up the misunderstanding right away, except Bowser is so bad at being charming that it loops around to actually being charming. Telling him who he is after flirting back would just make things awkward and maybe get Luigi set on fire. And Mario, despite lacking thumbs or proper vocal chords, is making it extremely clear that he doesn't approve of Bowser and "Princess Emerald" getting too close. Better to cooperate until they find the enchantress and high-tail it out of there as soon as she's defeated.

Unfortunately it turns out the curse still follows Cinderella rules, so at midnight the ballgown disappears and Bowser finds out after all. He's just as pissed as Luigi was afraid he'd be. There's some fire breath tossed around. But he's more embarrassed than anything else, and the fact that he's the only one without a curse (and that the "dog" is actually Mario) cheers him up enough that he decides to stick it out as part of the team.

He doesn't admit that he'd really started to like Princess Emerald in the afternoon they spent together. She was nice. She listened to him. She laughed at his jokes. And he can admit he's got a thing for big blue eyes. The fact that all those traits are the same whether Luigi's in a dress or in overalls is not one he wants to think about.

(The curse affects Luigi from noon to midnight so he still gets mornings to look like himself. Honestly it wouldn't be bad at all except a ballgown isn't very practical and Luigi's mildly offended that the curse also shaves him.)

So they go on, Bowser tries not to flirt, Luigi tries not to fall for his flirting, they both fail and wolf!Mario suffers.

Eventually they do catch up with the enchantress (probably after a lot of other curse-induced fairy tale shenanigans) and try to fight her. The gang is winning when she suddenly blasts Bowser with something that seems to kill him outright. Luigi, devastated, kisses him before getting up to keep fighting.

The enchantress sees this and goes, "Eewww!"

Turns out she's a little girl who got her hands on a powerful magic artifact. True Love's Kiss didn't break any of the curses because she's seven and kissing's gross! Now that they know she's a child (and that Bowser is just sleeping like Snow White) Mario and Luigi are reluctant to fight at full strength. Instead Luigi distracts her with his pretty pretty princess accessories, so Mario can dash in with wolf speed and steal the artifact.

Bowser is extremely confused when he wakes up, saying something about a weird dream he had, but all the curses are broken and everyone can go home. Problem solved. Definitely no lingering feelings and awkward secrets.

Definitely nobody is going to keep thinking about that teary goodbye kiss when Luigi thought Bowser was dead...

#bowuigi #luigi #bowser #super mario bros #luwser #bowigi #bowser x luigi #bowluigi #luigi x bowser #free idea #batfics #kinda #long post #green shell

535 notes · View notes

undiscovered-horizon · 11 months

Text

"Little Sun" - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[This is a work of fiction. Slapping your partner is physical abuse.]

SUMMARY: Nikolai left Ravka to gather whatever aid he can get for his home but he comes back because he promised you.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.2k

Apparently, Коля [Kolya] is short for Nikolai and it's the cutest thing I've heard in my life. Also, let me know if you're fine with just Cyrillic or do you want me to include Latinized spelling in the future.

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

Tolya and Tamar have a bet. Not a very dramatic piece of information if one knows a thing or two about the siblings. But it’s the nature of the bet, not its sole existence, that’s so interesting - it’s their longest unresolved wager:

The whole thing started when they noticed Sturmhond saying “Солнышко would love this” to himself. Most of the time it’s a whisper, a stray thought that somehow wriggled free out of his mind at a sight of a sunset, a panorama of a city or a treasure his crew found - if something is worth appreciation, the enigmatic “Солнышко” would surely want to see it. Judging by the softness with which the captain says those words, Tolya and Tamar are disillusioned that “солнышко” is merely a term of endearment for someone close to Sturmhond’s heart. What directly sparked their bet was whether this hopeless love is returned. Tolya, probably biased by the poetry he so eagerly reads, was convinced that they were witnessing a dramatic love story of a princess and a sea dog or something along those lines. Tamar, however, remained more cynical in her judgement - whoever the lady is, she probably doesn’t spare the privateer much thought, if she’s even aware of his existence. Little did they know, the answer awaited them on the other side of the Fold.

The sanctuary is never quiet nor is it ever boring. Although its population doesn’t impress, the determined freedom fighters rarely catch a break, keeping the beehive constantly buzzing. People coming to and fro, the noise of neverending chatter, footsteps echoing through the grand halls and in the middle - you, one responsibility away from completely losing your mind.

You’re doing your rounds, utilising the march between ‘checkpoints’ to talk with Dima, a quite hyperactive Fabrikator, about his new project. It looks promising but you’ve learned to expect nothing less from the boy. He’s tripping over his feet because his gaze is boring into you, looking for any sign of approval or disapproval, and not the tiles in front of him.

The parchment rustles as you look through the blueprints. “That’s a lot of iron…” you say quietly. Pondering the schematic, you habitually rub your jaw. “If First Army is to use this on the battlefield, it needs to be lighter, so fewer soldiers have to man it. Some parts ought to be substituted with wood. Maybe these two?” You point to fairly small elements on the blueprint, which look to be part of the traction mechanism. Dima conceptualized a machine built on impressively complicated, codependent systems - one change is going to influence all the other parts, which in turn will circle back to the substitute and put a different strain on it.

Dima gasps. "My lady,” his voice is quiet, breathy.

Suddenly, the boy stops but you don’t think much about it. You stand beside him, still eyeing the blueprint in search of ways to save the more scarce resources without endangering the quality of the firearm.

“I know it’s going to be difficult, Dima,” you forestall his complaint. “We also don’t want this whole thing to shatter after firing the first round but there’s only so much-.”

"My lady, he's back,” he interrupts you.

You look up at Dima with furrowed eyebrows. But the boy doesn’t meet your eye - instead, he’s looking away towards something, or someone, by the entrance to the sanctuary; a haunted glint hiding in his pupils. Confused, you follow his gaze to the door, only to feel your heart stop for a moment:

The blond hair, the elegant kaftan with aiglets and the insufferable, juvenile confidence written on his face.

"Мой Коля,” you say barely above a whisper. The world smudges and blurs as tears fill your eyes.

Not having much care about the stoic image you’re supposed to maintain, you shove the schematics back into Dima’s hands (he nearly drops them) and rush to the ghost who’s been haunting your thoughts for far too long, pushing through people standing in your path.

The phantom becomes flesh and bones only when you feel his arms wrap around you, pulling you tightly to himself. The scent of seaweed and resin lingers on his clothes as though he was born a sea dog and became a prince by sheer coincidence. You hear Nikolai take in a deep breath, his nose buried in your hair. This feels almost too good to be true but good enough to be a cruel joke.

A minute or two passes by and even then it’s difficult for you to lean away to look at his face - Nikolai seems absolutely unwilling at letting you go again anytime soon. Literally and figuratively.

"I was beginning to lose hope," you say quietly. Although his eyes remain just as mischievous as they usually are, a hint of softness hides inside them.

"You know me, солнышко,” he says with a grin on his face. The pet name makes your chest both tighten and burst with passion you have nearly forgotten. After a long period of emptiness and coldness, this scorching devotion is burning you alive. “I promised you I'd come back."

Only when his warm hand reaches to wipe away your tears do you realize you’ve been crying all this time. Even if you tried, there’s no way of stopping this - all of the nights you’d spent worrying and all the days you’d been yearning for him, they finally find their outlet in this longed-for reunion. You’ve imagined his tragic death so many times, you can hardly believe all of that was just an atrocity of your mind.

“Please, stop crying,” Nikolai whispers while relentlessly wiping your face, “or I’m going to cry too and I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of our guests.”

A chuckle of both disbelief and overwhelming relief escapes your lips. Even now, at such a heartfelt moment, he can’t help his humour but Saints’ did you miss it.

You sniffle. Absentmindedly, your fingers trace the smooth material of his kaftan. Not a cut or a burn on this textile, as though it beared to witness to combat. "You’ve been gone for so long, I don't know if I should kiss or slap you."

He gives you a playful, questioning look. "Can I choose?"

"Not a chance."

Nikolai gasps when he feels your hand against his face. The strength of the slap was nowhere near to the punch Alina threw at him not too long ago but considering who you are, it aches incomparably more. To a degree, he understands that he might, after all, deserve some of your anger. Aside from the misguided, love-fueled belief you’ve always had in him, you had virtually no reason to think he’s alive, mourning him each time you lay in bed alone - until now.

He doesn’t have a chance to form a response to your outburst as you grab both sides of his face and clash your lips against his. That’s something Nikolai can condone and he does so with a nearly obscene lack of hesitation or reluctance. His arms hold your waist in a tight embrace. The saltwater on his skin tastes like insufferable youth and fabulous adventures. For a moment, you let yourself forget about the pending civil war, thinking only about the warm, soft lips you’ve missed so dearly. Your Коля came back to you, so everything is perfectly fine.

At the same time, Tolya turns to look at his sister with a proud grin. “Told you,” he says nudging her arm but Tamar only scoffs and shakes her head.

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone x you #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fanfic #nikolai x reader #nikolai imagines #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov x reader #Spotify

613 notes · View notes

seeds-and-sins · 3 months

Text

Light My Fire - Part Seven

Pairing: Ben "Soldier Boy" x F!Reader

Rating: M (Crude Language, Curse Words, Sexism, descriptions of explicit sexual content)

Description: Phoenix faces a ghost.

Tagged: @tonixe @chernayawidow, @deans-spinster-witchs-favorites, @ophennie @virgoelf-blog, @my-obsession-spn, @capricxnt

Part Six

Your father died in the war.

1945. The Battle of Okinawa.

You were fifteen years old.

You don't remember much about him, but he was a good man. He promised to come home. When the soldiers came marching in, he wasn't with them. Your mother wasn't the same after that, but she didn't show it on the surface. She cried in the bathroom and whimpered into her pillow, but she never let anyone see her like that. You had admired her when you were younger.

But now?

You couldn't even recall what her face looked like. When you thought about her, which wasn't often, all you could think about were words: strong, independent, fierce, and hard-working. Your mother was a no nonsense kind of gal and that was how she raised you. She was a secretary for some big shot in St. Louis, a working woman that earned her own and fended for her own. If not for her, you wouldn't be here. You can imagine yourself aging, having married and had children ages ago. Maybe you'd be in a nursing home right now. Maybe you'd be in a grave.

But no.

Your mother refused to marry you off like all the other mothers of your time. She didn't believe that a woman belonged in the kitchen and she refused to allow you to think otherwise. She instilled in you a fury that remained even to today.

You both lost touch with one another when you were entered into the program. You were twenty-two years old, your mother had made the arrangements herself. You don't remember why she did, but frankly, it was so long ago you can't bring yourself to care. You never went out to find her. You were certain that she was dead by now. And of the things she left you with, 'I love you' wasn't one of them.

Don't trust anyone, she said.

And don't you dare fall in love. You'll just get yourself hurt. No one cares about you and no one ever will. Remember that.

You should have listened to her, but over time her words just became less and less valuable. You didn't take them seriously anymore. Not like you used to. You doubt she told you them under the assumption that you would live to be almost a hundred years old and look not a day over twenty-two. She couldn't possibly understand what it was like to be in your boots.

It was lonely.

Surely, that would be the exception. If you trusted someone along the way, that was okay. If you fell in love...

But no.

None of this was okay.

And you don't think your mother would approve of you attending the seventieth anniversary of the biggest hero fuck fest in history.

You were scowling in disgust as you made your way through the halls of the mansion. Tommy, Tessa, and the Deep had disappeared, but you weren't so concerned about it. If Tommy and Tessa were still alive, that meant that Ben wasn't here yet. But Ben was on his way and you needed to prepare yourself for the worst. The moaning, the exotic smells that permeated in the air, the sounds of skin slapping against skin, it wasn't making your situation any better.

You couldn't believe that the twins were still doing this. It was obvious by the look on your face that you had never been a big fan of Ben's annual Herogasm. He started it with some other heroes a long ways back and from that point forward he made it a habit to host the orgy in his penthouse every once a year. You had been invited on numerous occasions before Payback had even been formed. Back then, heroes were few and far between. You didn't have hundreds of them like there was now. The invites were little pamphlets with splashes of vibrant colors stamped down by a printing press, some poorly drawn pornographic comic scribbled on the front. They were sent out by whoever was Soldier Boy's assistant at the time. Knowing how Soldier Boy was after he met you in person, if the invites had been sent by him personally, he probably would have come and fetched you himself.

That was much like what happened after he met you. Being a member of his team didn't deter him from you in the slightest. Ben would invite you to Herogasm himself every year after Payback had been created. And every year that Ben approached you about the event, you gave a very firm and strong 'no'. Ben was so determined that he would try everything he could think of to get you to change your mind. As if him barreling through your penthouse door in the early morning wasn't already bad enough. He sent you sex toys, gave you intimate details on who was going to be there, attempted to bribe you with food and drinks and drugs.

It wasn't like you were a prude.

In your younger days, you would do anything to have a good time. You were reasonable and rule-abiding, but it was a known fact that you liked to party. And you were wild and fun and carefree. The world was your playground and you were so excited to learn and try new things. Heck, you weren't even that young then. But within the era arose a lot of great changes and great changes meant new things. Everyone was living life to the fullest and everyone was rocking and rolling, swinging, mixing drugs and drinks, learning about themselves. It was a new age. Gone were the ways of the old.

So, you weren't going to lie to yourself, part of you really did want to go to Herogasm. You couldn't count how many times you had nearly walked yourself all the way to Soldier Boy's penthouse. Be damned the reality of giving him the satisfaction, you just wanted to have fun. The rational and reasonable side of yourself would stop you. You would have to do a regroup on the top of a tower somewhere, pace back and forth as you thought up reasons as to why you shouldn't go.

Orgies were great and all, but there was nothing that beat the physical and carnal intimacy of being with someone in private.

Ben had tried to persuade you that way too: It'll just be you and I, how 'bout that? But there still was the problem of him being in a relationship. Take away the public aspect of it and there still was the fact that he was with Crimson. No matter how many passes Crimson gave him, you wouldn't be just some other girl, you wouldn't allow that. And you couldn't do that to Countess.

The idea of facing him in the workplace after that, you'd never be able to do that. You weren't sure how your teammates managed. Payback had fucked with each other in every which way, even outside of Heorgasm. Herogasm was supposed to be the fuck for free card: once a year, fuck whoever you want, however you want, no consequences. What happens in Herogasm stays in Herogasm, kind of bullshit. You would never be able to do that.

Your best bet was to stay away. And you did.

It was almost ironic that you would confront Ben, after all these years, at an event like this. You weaved through the corridors of the mansion, peeking into rooms and steering clear of naked bodies. You found a surprisingly secluded part of the home and took up a space there. You were fiddling with the edge of your cape, pacing back and forth as you waited.

"Okay. Deep Breathes." You told yourself, muttering reassurances that fell empty in your gut. "Everything will be fine. Everything will work out."

What would you even say to Ben? It wasn't his fault that he had been trapped by the Soviets all these years. If anything, it was yours. You blamed yourself for not saving him when you should have. Why did you wait to confront the team? Why didn't you just go get Ben? None of this would be happening if you did. Maybe you'd finally be retired.

Or maybe you just liked this too much...

You don't know how much time had passed, too lost in your thoughts. A sickeningly sweet smell filtered in, a cloud of smoke floating in the air. You inhaled deeply through your nose, nostrils flaring.

"Halothane?" The smell brought a sense of nostalgia. Criminals tried to use it on you a few times back in the day, assuming it would knock you out cold. Either some super kinky shit was going on or something was about to go down.

You followed the cloud of smoke, turning a corner to find it unfurling from a container that rested at your feet. Some sort of smoke grenade, you deduced. You stepped forward, trotting down a set of steps before coming upon two familiar faces. The two men were in conflict with one another, Butcher easily holding back the larger man with one hand.

"Well, if it isn't Billy fuckin' Butcher." They both paused, eyes landing on you. Butcher faced you, a small smirk lifting his lips.

"Phoenix, the fiery cunt, funny seeing you 'ere."

Billy had tried to kill you a few years ago. His team and him had been tasked with obliterating your entire career and even trying to find a way to obliterate you. They failed, of course. There was no doubt that they would. And you didn't blame them for trying to kill you, you were a loose cannon. Still were. You returned his smirk as you came down those last few steps.

"I wouldn't be smiling if I were you. Don't think ya'know what's about to happen." You paused, cocked your head to the side, your irises glowed red. All too fast, a gust of air slashed at your sides as you moved with a startling quickness. Your hand encompassed Butcher's throat and you pinned him to the wall. The wall crackled around the force of your combined strength and his weight. His colleague threw a fist at a nearby display case, the glass shattered onto the carpet floor, he withdrew a wooden baseball bat. The wooden bat splintered as it hit your back, falling into a mess of pieces. Butcher fought back with a grin, making a good effort, something you didn't miss. That grin of his faded when he realized he wasn't strong enough to pry your fingers away from his exposed throat.

"What have you been up to, you piece of shit? You've gotten abnormally strong since I last saw you." You showed your teeth, your hand as hot as a furnace, holding Butcher in place as if he were a mouse. "You couldn't have taken V, I don't take you to be that kind of guy." Your gaze wandered up and down with a sick curiosity as he continued to struggle, clawing at your hand with an iron grip. "Nooo..." You ponder with a pop of your lips. "You took something else. Ya'know you can't trust that shit, right?"

"Let him go!" His colleague stood back now, withdrawing a pistol. He fired six shots at you, the bullets hit your side and dropped to the floor in little dented beads. You plainly looked between the bullets and him.

"Really?" You spat, "Don't you guys know anything by now? For fucks sake, it's always the same shit with you people."

BOOM!

The explosion surprised you and you relinquished your grip on Butcher. The wall at your back exploded into a mess of rubble, a burst of heavy wind pushing back at you. Billy and his friend collapsed to the ground from the blast, while you stayed perfectly still against it. Your eyes narrowed in its direction. As the structure of the mansion around you wheezed and crumbled from the attack, you heard screams and cries for help follow. You made no move to save anyone. Butcher groaned as he shoved a wall off of him with ease. He smirked up at you.

"You're fucked." He laughed.

The walls were black with soot, plots of fire spanned out across the once pristine white. Your eyes vigorously looked around, you searched for the source. An explosion? Much like the one in Manhatten. John had told you that Soldier Boy had caused that. Stumbling from the sheet of smoke in the air, a figure appeared, down the same set of steps that you had come from, down the same corridor. They grew closer, Butcher stood to his full height, brushing off the layer of dust that had settled on him.

The figure halted when they came into view. His bright blue eyes squinted in your direction before a heated glare contorted his handsome features. Your heart stuttered in your chest, fists clenching at your sides. What were you going to say?

God-He looked just like the last time you saw him. Shiny and bright, a little rough around the edges, but just as strong. As if nothing had happened all those years ago, as if he was just coming back from a simple vacation, he was the spitting image of the man you remembered: the same suit, shield poised at his side, hair grown slightly thicker, no mask.

"Ben." He was going to kill you, wasn't he? You could see it in his eyes. His eyes lacked the fondness that haunted your dreams. When you wished you could be back at the beginning, before all this. Before Vought betrayed him, before Vought betrayed you. "Don't do this." You breathed, your eyes softened, the red in them was replaced by your natural eye color. You extended a hand. "Please."

"You haven't seen me for years and the first thing you do is beg." His voice. Even when he sounded threatening, you missed the deep, transatlantic accent that used to make you feel warm inside. You wished you had never rejected it. Fuck Countess. Fuck morals. You should have kissed him. You should have fucked him. You should have loved him. Seeing him here, none of that mattered anymore. Ben was alive. You were right. He was here. You wanted to run and hug him with all the strength you could muster. You wanted him to hug you back.

I'm better now. You would tell him.

You weren't sick anymore. Last time you saw him, he made you swear that you would be better by the time he got back.

Or maybe you were still sick.

Damaged. Deranged.

People could be sick in different ways.

Why would he want you?

Stop being dillusional.

You weren't the same person you were when you made that promise. When Ben promised to come back to you, he was Ben. Just Ben.

Your rational side returned: Ben wanted you dead now. He wasn't Ben anymore. He was the enemy.

More importantly, he wanted John dead. Who cares if Ben succeeded in killing you? You didn't care if you died. You welcomed it. But John? Fuck anyone who would dare hurt that man. You would fucking burn the world for John. He was like a son. He was your son. No one would fucking hurt him.

"I'm disappointed." Ben added, Butcher slowly walked to stand at his side. Butcher must have felt like he owned the world now. Butcher must have felt indestructible. With whatever substance was running through his veins, with Soldier Boy at his side, all of his dreams would come true: you would be killed and Homelander would be next. You wouldn't allow it.

"I don't know what else to say."

"I waited for you." Ben growled through clenched teeth. "Of all the people, I thought you would come for me."

"I tried." You replied quickly, almost pleading.

"You didn't try hard enough." His voice cracked with emotion as he spoke those last words, before his eyes flitted to something behind you. Someone. You looked over your shoulder: It was John, descending a staircase.

"William Butcher and Soldier Boy." He announced, halting beside you, shoulder to shoulder. "You were behind this. This whole thing. It really is all about me." Soldier Boy glanced back at Butcher, you saw a distant doubt at the edge of his gaze. "William, we made a deal. To fight to the death, you and me." Butcher's expression hardened, he was glaring at Homelander with a deep and sacred hatred in his bones. Heat rose in your fingertips, you were preparing yourself for a brutal battle. Homelander shot a beam of red in Butcher's direction and Butcher was thrown, hitting the wall behind him with a booming thud. Soldier Boy faced Homelander, a coolness washed over him and he stood at the ready. "You were my hero growing up." Homelander took a step toward Ben, "I watched all of your movies hundreds of times." Your breath caught as your gaze flicked between them, an intensity clung to the air. The corridor felt more tight and narrow than before. Fumes of smoke flowing from cracks in the walls, lingering after the explosion. "You were the only one that was nearly as strong as me." Those words came out soft, muttered off the tip of John's tongue. Homelander was wide eyed, someone seeing their childhood idol for the first time and maybe John was a bit disappointed.

"Buddy," Soldier Boy replied. "You think you're strong? You're wearing a cape." You grabbed Homelander's bicep. You could feel the tension vibrating in the muscle. You had a duty to stop this, right? You didn't want this. "You're just a cheap fuckin' knockoff."

"Shut up, Ben." You shot out through clenched teeth.

"And you?" Ben turned on you. "The Phoenix. Fire in the sky. You're the biggest fake of them all. The biggest fuckin' whore." Homelander's bicep slipped from your grasp and he flew at Soldier Boy with a roar. Soldier Boy collided with the wall, but he recouped fast and swung a fist across Homelander's cheek. You flew in to intervene, trying to rip the two apart. Soldier Boy shoved you and you stumbled back, Homelander's laser vision beamed at him. You were about to tear them apart again when a hand grabbed at your shoulder and ripped you backward.

It was Butcher. You blinked at him in shock, his fist collided with your cheek. It did nothing more than snap your head to the side, but you were still surprised. His eyes turned yellow and a beam was shot in Homelander's direction, shoving him back. John was momentarily stunned as his blue eyes lifted to Butcher.

"What did you do?" He snarled.

"Scorched Earth." Butcher replied, you returned by grabbing Butcher by his jacket and you yanked him away. Homelander directed his rage toward him, fists were flying, both of them dodging before making a hit. You turned your attention to Soldier Boy, he was rolling on the floor. You stomped to him, grabbed him by the collar of his chest plate and hauled him to his feet. He punched you. The hit drew blood, the boiling hot liquid ran from your nostril. Before you could collect yourself, Soldier Boy's hand was at your throat and he was choking you.

"I would have given you the fuckin' world." He hissed.

"They-" You choked out, "Got me-" Both of your hands wrapped around his wrist and you fought with all your strength. "Too." His grip loosened just a touch and his eyebrows furrowed at you in confusion. An arm looped around his neck and Homelander was drawing him into a chokehold. Butcher tackled Homelander from behind.

You held your throat, gasping for breath. You stumbled toward the three, reaching out for Butcher when you were shoved from behind. The shove wasn't enough to send you off balance, but you spun on your heel.

It was a naked man.

Starlight's boyfriend? He stared wide eyed at you, you stared wide eyed at him.

Upon recognition of his place in all this, you wasted no time, fire balled in your fist and you threw a wave of heat at him. He squealed, patting himself down, left intact by your attack. Your attentions went back to the trio. You punched Soldier Boy in the gut. Butcher climbed off Homelander to grapple you by the shoulder and throw you.

Soon. In a mess of limbs and fire, it was Homelander and you versus Starlight's boyfriend, Butcher, and Soldier Boy. Soldier Boy and Butcher were far more trained in specific combos of attack, while Homelander just aimlessly tossed his brute strength in where he could hit them. All of them had one goal. It was like you didn't even exist. Any move against you was one to keep you away. The three of them held Homelander down to the ground, Ben's chest began to glow yellow.

What was that?! What was he doing?! You had never seen that before.

"No! Stop!" You screamed, steam rose from the corners of your eyes. You grabbed Ben by the shoulders and pulled with all your might. "PLEASE!"

WHOOSH!

Your efforts were just enough to give Homelander an opening and he escaped their hold, flying into the sky and through the roof. You fell back, hitting the wall.

It was still.

Quiet.

You licked your lips, eyes focused ahead on Soldier Boy's hunched form. Butcher flipped on his side and Starlight's boyfriend stood with a limp and a grunt. Soldier Boy stood, one leg at a time, he slowly faced you. His chest rose and fell with every ragged breath. You held against the wall as he closed in on you.

"I'm going to kill him..." He began, pulling loose tufts of his hair back with his fingers. "And I'm going to make you watch." You tilted your head away. "And then I'm going to kill you." Your vision just so happened to land on Butcher. He was grinning now, blood staining his teeth.

"This is not fair, Ben." You said weakly.

"Aww, are you gonna' cry?" He taunted, lacking any jest, all cold and callous. "Gosh, I don't remember you being such a pussy."

"I don't remember you being so cold."

"Well, that's what happens when the only person you ever fuckin' cared about leaves you to the wolves for four decades!" He shouted, spital ran off his sharp teeth.

"Fuck you, Ben. You don't even know anything. You don't know." You whimpered back, defeated. You couldn't even believe that was you talking. You lifted into the air and flew through the hole in the ceiling.

Ben's eyed followed you, head tilting back. His fists clenched at his sides.

"What did she mean?" He asked out loud, "They Got Me too. What does that mean?"

"Who fuckin' knows, mate. You can't trust a word she says." Butcher replied, eyes narrowing on Soldier Boy in question. Soldier Boy needed to think Phoenix was the enemy. Otherwise, they would never kill Homelander. "She's just tryin' to get into your head."

"That flying fuck and her, are they..."

"What do you think?" And that was the only seed Butcher needed to plant because Soldier Boy's answering grimace was enough. He was hurt and he was fuming and that was how Butcher needed him to stay. He needed Soldier Boy on his side.

"Guys, we gotta' go. Like, now." Hughie stated anxiously, Butcher nodded in agreement.

"Come on." Soldier Boy stood below the hole in the ceiling, his fists clenched at his sides, he gritted his teeth.

You were right there. Right in front of him. As beautiful as the first day he had met you...

And he should have killed you.

Return to Masterlist

#reader #the boys #homelander #the seven #black noir #vought international #crimson countess #soldier boy x reader #oc hero name #billy butcher #hughie campbell #starlight #mothers milk #tnt twins #payback

80 notes · View notes

radiosummons · 1 year

Text

Time-travel/fix it AUs with Cal Kestis as the main protag will always be funny to me, especially when authors pair him up with the Disaster Lineage (usually as Obi-Wan's new padawan since Ahsoka ended up apprenticing under Anakin).

Mostly because:

1) I will always fuck with AUs where Obi-Wan gets a new padawan, regardless of whoever said padawan is.

2) The sheer comedic and potential angst/anxiety of everyone trying to navigate having an actual tiny, baby Jedi on the battlefield with them.

3) Cal just mentally trying to process the whole time-travel thing on top of being a padawan to HIGH GENERAL, JEDI MASTER, COUNCIL MEMBER OBI-WAN FUCKING KENOBI!!!!!!!

4) The opportunity for Anakin to struggle with possible feelings of jealousy over Obi-Wan having a new padawan and maybe slowly coming to accept Cal as a Jedi sibling (with helpful, or not so helpful input from Ahsoka-lol).

5) Obi-Wan having to wrangle yet another droid loving padawan with very obvious mental and trust issues and OH GOD HE'S JUST AS TINY AS ANAKIN WAS AND HOW COULD THE COUNCIL HAVE EVER APPROVED THIS-

But, most of all, what I love about this particular AU is the additional, optional layer of Cal somehow knowing (usually through psychometry) that Anakin is Darth Vader and just having to struggle to interact with his new Master's former padawan without letting anyone else know, that he knows--

--which then leads to baby Cal Kestis meeting Anakin the Skywalker for the first time and just sort of blurting out something to the equivlaent of "... don't fucking talk to me" and then screaming internally when everyone inevitably reacts to Obi-Wan's new padawan clearly hating/not taking a liking to Anakin at all.

Obviously, Ahsoka would think this is hilarious, Anakin would take it super personally and Obi-Wan would just feel exasperated/delighted/resigned at the fact that he has yet another rude padawan to take care of.

*fics recs under the cut*

For anyone who might be interested in reading fics with this particular AU, I can't help but recommend these two in particular:

a distant fire is burning by e_va (AO3)/@e-vasong (blog)

(I Promise) This Time Will Be Different by Nation_Ustria

Make sure to give these authors lots of love. They've done an excellent job with their writing :3

Update: Since this post has started to sorta blow up (at least way more than I expected WOW), I just wanted to take the opportunity to shout out another fave Time-travel/Fix-It fic that I also adore called:

Lost Property Box by Young_and_spitefilled/@constantlymisspelled

It's not a Cal joins the Disaster Lineage fic, but instead sees an older Cal Kestis return to a timeline way before the events of Phantom Menace. And what do you know, he gets to interact with baby Obi-Wan and other child versions of the Jedi he looked up to as a baby Jedi himself. It's pretty great. Definitely check it out :3

#star wars au #jfo #jedi fallen order #cal kestis #tcw au #disaster lineage #baby cal kestis #obi wan kenobi #obi wan gets a new padawan AUs #are a guilty pleasure of mine #i just dig found family tropes so much #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #fic rec #fic recommendation

790 notes · View notes

lousycapy · 1 month

Text

video ideas for the McLaren pr team

’cause the flow been dry since the proscription of unboxed

why not satisfy one of their sponsor while at it? Get these boys each a McLaren LEGO set and do a competition of who can assemble it the fastest, bits of chatting here and there and boom! Nice long chill video c:

we’ve seen how competitive Lando and Oscar can be in the inverted goggles video, so maybe it could be fun to bring this kind of energy back? Stick ‘em on a paddle court and let’s have a lil showdown! Now of course it’d be nice to get the Williams vs McLaren match, but interteam content does tend to be rare so I wouldn’t put my money on it

maybe it’s time to change it up a little, we’ve seen them a lot in competitive contexts. Why not some cooperative challenge this time? Seeing them struggle in an escape room would be hilarious, and it’d show a nice united front to the public

now, now, the boys are racing drivers. Some track actions is always nice, so I propose a karting video. Another one, don’t look at me like that I just love these

playing with food is a staple of video challenges, and with mister Oscar Pastry on your team it’d be a shame to not capitalize on this play on words. Baking contest, no instructions, whoever makes the worst concoction has to taste his mess (plus possible affiliation with their Optimum Nutrition sponsor c;)

SUMMER. GAMES. That video was fire, stamp of approval, keep going sweetie. Tweak the games so that it isn’t a repeat and we’re onto a winner here

for a team with an history as rich as McLaren they haven’t been quizzing their drivers much on their f1 knowledge… even outside of McLaren. Chill bla bla video of their favourite moments of the sport, wins, overtakes, radios?

they’ve been getting a lot of friendship bracelets on stage recently, so why not capitalize on this fan interaction and let ‘em make some to distribute to the fans at the next race?

uno with Stella, Brown, whoever. I want to see them being the little menaces that they are, terrorize the McLaren team, stick up a +4 in each other’s face, unleash the sassiness :o

’look at you’ ‘look at you’ ‘look at us’ alright then. You wanna fawn over each other? Then with their partnerships with clothing brands surely the pr team could find a way of letting them choose silly outfits for each other, little modeling session, um?

anyway, thank you for coming to my ted talk, yadi yada, if you want to add some ideas you are very welcome to put them in the comments :D

#lando norris #oscar piastri #landoscar #mclaren pr team #please wake up #we need to be fed #the video feed been empty for SO LONG #please…

48 notes · View notes

redpenship · 2 months

Note

Do you think mobians should be supplied nuclear armaments to protect themselves against Eggman?

No.

There are a few reasons why this is non-viable:

The Mobian state is basically non-existent. The most expensive/annoying part of possessing nuclear weapons is the upkeep involved with them. Who's paying for this? Why does ANY government trust Mobians, given the closest thing to a government that they appear to have is the Restoration (run by teenagers that cannot be counted on to act rationally during nuclear escalation). It's a major risk for basically everyone involved--including the Mobians!

Moreover, in cases of nuclear sharing, what we see most often are states sharing knowledge. Is a country going to train Mobian scientists to build bombs? How to enrich uranium in a reactor? If this country is simply handing over the nukes, and if this is really just to protect against Eggman, then it violates what we know about extended deterrence. The reason the United States put nukes all over Europe and in Canada was make sure their own allies did not develop their own nuclear programs. For example, if Germany armed itself, the USSR would have gotten pissed, so the US worked very hard with Germany to convince them that a dual-key system (in which both the US and Germany would need to give approval for the nukes to launch) was viable to protect them from Soviet aggression. They made similar efforts with Taiwan during the first strait crisis. Do Mobians want an atomic bomb? If not, they probably aren't getting one any time soon.

They would not deter Eggman. The point of nuclear weapons is to promise retaliation in the form of pain. All a nuclear bomb will do is hurt his robots, which Sonic has proven just fine of dealing with on his own. As the saying goes, there is nothing you can accomplish with a nuclear weapon that an army cannot accomplish with ice picks. Why invest is big ass rockets when Sonic can do the same thing?

Further more, if both parties have nuclear weapons, this does not - necessarily mean they will have a 100% deterrence rate. Eggman has never attacked the islands with nuclear weapons. Even if the Mobians have them, he can still get away with using conventional weapons. This is a result of the stability-instability paradox: if the conflict falls below the threshold of threat, as in is not serious enough to require nuclear intervention, then a conventional war will continue instead. Sino-Soviet border conflict is an example of this.

Putting nukes on the islands could cause another Cuban Missile Crisis-esque episode between Eggman and whoever supplied them. Especially if they are close to his territory.

Eggman takes over the islands ALL THE TIME. If deterrence fails, and Mobians don't fire their nukes, then they will fall into his hands. He's capable of making them on his own, but it probably wouldn't be awesome for him to learn more about the inner workings of xyz country's missile launchers/bombers/whatever. It would just make things more dangerousl

I could probably get more into this but I am going to stop now. To summarize, it would be a giant waste of time and probably not help anyone.

(ty for the question!!! its very late here so I hope it is comprehensible, i am writing this while sleepy lol.

#sonic the hedgehog #im actually writing a big paper on why states DONT get nukes #and under what circumstances its safer for them to not have them #this is one of those circumstances!!#anon #ask #redposts

55 notes · View notes

angelasscribbles · 2 months

Text

Round Robin Chapter 1: Welcome

This is still untitled and with no mood board because I have no idea where it's going lol.

Word Count: 448

Next writer: @christina-stark-skarlet-stileto

Bertrand Beaumont stepped up to the podium and surveyed the conference room full of malcontents with equal parts excitement and trepidation. This was the most ambitious project of his career.

They were in an undisclosed location. He had a full production team and camera crew on standby. He was acutely aware that the results of this endeavor would make or break his PR firm. But he had complete confidence in his staff.

Tapping on the microphone, he began. “Settle down, please. I understand that everyone in this room is powerful in some way. You’re royalty, celebrities, and top performers in your field. Doctors, CEO’s, etc. You’re not used to being told what to do. I get it. However…”

He waited for the grumbling to die down before continuing. “You’re all here for the same reason. You’ve become a liability for your family, your agency, your recent movie. You’re a PR nightmare for whoever and whatever you’re attached to.”

This time the grumbles were less angry and more conceding.

Bertrand smiled reassuringly. “We’re here to change that. We’re here to help you. I know none of you are accustomed to taking much direction however, for many of you, this is your last chance before you’re fired, blacklisted from Hollywood, or exiled by your families.”

The former crown prince of Dravokia exchanged a sidelong glance with the former crown prince of Cordonia as he mouthed, “Too late!”

Tobias Carrick rose from his chair to demand, “And how, exactly, are you going to do that?”

Bertrand smiled, “I’m glad you asked! This program will not only teach you the skills you need to spin public opinion but will put you in situations to showcase those skills. Publicly.”

“Publicly?” Came a question from the back.

“Yes, publicly. First, you’ll receive instructions on how to conduct yourselves and then you’ll put what you’ve learned by attending a series of public appearances where you will behave properly. You will rehabilitate your images with the support of our staff and your partner.”

A murmur broke out as several people asked, “What partner?”

“Oh, we have taken the liberty of pairing each of you up with a mentor. Someone who already has a stellar public image. Just being seen with them in public will help you. This person will be your shadow for the duration of the program.”

“How long are we stuck here?” Leo Rys spoke up. He hadn’t abdicated a throne to have his life micro-managed by a PR firm.

“Until your approval ratings are acceptable.”

“Great.” He huffed as he slumped back into his seat. “Just fucking dandy.”

“Everyone get a good night’s sleep,” Bertrand told them brightly. “We start in the morning!”

#choicesprompts #round robin #round robin 2024 #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

52 notes · View notes

lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 year

Text

Dragon Pt.1

Pairing: Daenerys Targaryen x Reader

Warnings: assassin related stuff

Words: 3066

Summary: She had trusted her Unsullied with her life. That was why when one attacked her with a knife she doesn't have him killed. Instead Daenerys wants to get down to the problem. Only when she removes the Unsullied's helmet she is met with the face of a young girl.

Part 2

The tip of the dagger was mere inches from her chest. Had Daario and Jorah been a second slower in stopping it, Dany was positive she’d be dead. By the hands of one of her own Unsullied. The two men who vied for her attention wrestled the soldier down in an attempt to restrain him. For the odds being two-to-one, the single Unsullied assailant proved to be difficult to hold down. Grey Worm and the others assisted Jorah and Daario in bringing his own man down onto his knees.

“What shall you have me do to him?” Grey Worm turns to his queen. He was surprised that one of his own men would dare to lay a violent hand upon their silver haired queen. From the moment Daenerys had got them out of bondage the Unsullied had been completely devoted to her and would gladly die for her.

Dany was aware of this as well and wanted to know why he had attacked her. These were her sworn men, the only others besides Jorah that she would trust with her life.

Despite them urging her to stay back, Daenerys slowly walked up to the detained Unsullied who had his head held up high. Up close she noticed how small he was compared to the other men in his company. He must’ve been one of the young unblooded ones that she had taken from under the Master’s grasp. She places each of her hands on either side of the metal helmet that all the Unsullied wore and gently slid it up to remove it. She was met with a soft feminine face that held harsh (e/c) eyes. Her would be assassin was a girl. They stared at each other for some time, Dany for some odd reason held captive by those glowering eyes while the other girl keeps her facial features completely void except for the fire in her eyes.

“Your Grace? What should we do? She’s obviously an assassin. Although I must applaud her for easily passing off as an Unsullied.” Hums Daario with slight approval.

Jorah wasn’t as light hearted as Daario as he grabs the young girl’s slender throat. She doesn’t even flinch but her lips curl in a snarl. “Who sent you?”

“Unhand her Jorah.” Daenerys immediately instructs earning a confused look from her bear lord.

His lips part. “But Khaleesi, she nearly killed you.”

“I’m aware of what she almost did. I don’t want to repeat myself.”

Reluctantly he unwraps his meaty hand from her throat and backs away. Still Jorah makes sure to keep his glare trained on the little assassin.

Regarding her for a moment, Dany instructs her men to confine the girl in a cell and have a close eye on her; seeing as she had slipped from their detection to begin with. She made no struggle as they led her away.

Curious, Daario crosses his arms. “And what exactly do you have planned for her?”

“It’s not safe to keep her here.” Jorah insists.

“I’m going to persuade her to join our side. If it’s money she wants we can out pay whoever hired her in the first place. She’s obviously talented. Gave you two quite the fight.”

Chuckling while his counterpart flushes with embarrassment, Daario saunters closer to Daenerys with his usual playful, toothy, grin. “You can’t trust people like her. Of course I’m in the same job field, but I’m different.”

That made her quirk an eyebrow up. “Are you now?”

“Your love is the only payment I require.”

“You’re getting off track!” Snaps Jorah haughtily. “She can’t stay here. Khaleesi, with your kind heart you have won man over. But that won’t always work. Did you see her eyes? Eyes like those belong to someone who has no morals, who can’t be swayed.”

No. Dany had seen something else in those eyes. Something that pulled her in. A sense of familiarity.

Jorah always did have the tendency to see the worst in people. Daenerys wanted to believe that what she saw was something good.

You had been in worst situations. At least there were no rats in your cell. Small blessings you supposed. You groan at the thought of your lost payment. When you escaped you would definitely not get paid. Your benefactor would probably send others to get rid of you so that you wouldn’t utter a word that it was him. Not that you would. . . Unless the price was right.

You would worry about that when you got out of your cell.

No chains or locks could restrain you for long. This was nothing compared to some of the tight binds you found yourself in in Braavos. Even in Volantis where you had dealt in some risky business you were quick and smart enough to escape with all your limbs and your pride. When you caught a glimpse of prostitutes selling themselves in the dirt and grime, dread always made your stomach churn. That could’ve easily had been your fate. There had been numerous times when you were young that had nearly resulted in rape. You had kept your wits though and easily brought your assailant’s life to an end.

Flexing your feet and wrists you examine your surroundings and think of a plan. You refused to be dragon fodder.

You’d wait until a guard opened your cell and grabbed you. They hadn’t thought to check your boots for weapons. In each was a dagger strapped snuggly to the inside. There were pre-made sheaths in the insides of your boots that protected you from the sharp blades. You also had a small pack of needles laced with a fast acting poison hidden away as well.

You were prepared for the Unsullied guards to come back. It couldn’t have taken too long for the Mother of Dragons to decide your fate. If someone had tried to kill you you would want them dead. In fact anyone who had tried to kill you was indeed gone from the living plane. You had seen to that.

Instead it was the queen herself that was illuminated by torchlight. And she was alone.

You could still finish your job. Coax her to open the door and just as you walk out, feign tying your boots when you’re really reaching for your daggers. You would cut off her white hair as proof that you had indeed succeeded in your task.

Breathing slowly to calm your heart rate, you train your eyes on her as she continues to draw closer.

She was astonishingly beautiful, you would give her that. Daenerys Targaryen. With her flawless complexion and stunning lavender eyes you were sure she could easily have any man bend the knee to her regardless of her dragons.

What could she possibly have to say to you? Maybe spit in your face or curse you. You had experienced it all.

Except for. . . “Are you hungry?”

Questioningly you stare at her. You weren’t accustomed to being surprised. To be honest you hardly held any emotion except for anger and you used that when you fought. All emotion had been trained out of you much like the Unsullied. No female castration was performed on you though. Your lady bits didn’t stop you from killing without remorse.

Yet there you were. Surprised and confused.

Daenerys folds her hands in front of you. She had previously spoken in Valyrian as many in Essos spoke a a form of it. When you continued to look at her with unblinking eyes she tried using the Common Tongue of Westeros. Perhaps she thought you hadn’t understood her. “Whoever employed you. . . I can assure you that I have more to offer you than they can. We can discuss it over a meal. . .”

That was the oldest trick in the book. Did she really think you would fall for that? You had invited many to meals that had wound up being poisoned.

Yet if she opened the cell door you’d be able to get to her. You’d finally be able to leave the sweltering deserts that surrounded Meereen and all the other god awful enslaved cities.

“And what can you offer me?” You reply in Valyrian, trying to add interest in your voice. Make her believe that you were playing into her game. She seemed like the trusting type. After all she did stop one of her guards from possibly strangling you. Already you knew she had a kind heart. People with kind hearts didn’t last too long.

One step closer and she put her hand on the wrought iron bars. Daenerys gazed intently at you, trying to read something that you were unsure of. “A place in my guard. A chance to gain glory in Westeros.”

“I care not for glory or a position in your guard.” Folding your arms in front of your chest you go on. “What I care about are riches. Have you any of that, Mother of Dragons?”

“Once I take the Iron Throne you can have as much as your heart desires.”

You doubted that would ever happen. Stories told in taverns you had heard the history of Westeros and how the Valyrians had fled from their crumbled home; claiming and conquering Westeros as their own. Even though she had conquered Slaver’s Bay and Meereen there was so much more that went into being a queen. She was young and thought she could play at being ruler just because she had three dragons and a useless claim.

You hardly cared about her ambitions that were as doomed as Valyria.

Still you would get her to believe anything, as long as she opened the door.

“A castle. With a room filled with gold.”

She moves closer to the lock, her fingers revealing a brass key. You keep your eyes trained on her sparkling eyes though, not willing to let up what your intentions were. “If that is what you desire. It shall be your’s. I only request one thing of you.”

Of course you would have to prove your loyalty. You force an eyebrow up in mock question.

Daenerys takes this as an invitation to go on. “Go back and kill the person who hired you.”

The key was getting closer and closer to the lock.

You try not to hold your breath and force yourself to breathe steadily. “Then it will be done.”

For half a heart beat you feared that she wouldn’t open it, that she didn’t quite believe you. Something in her posture seemed testing. Yet you heard a click as Daenerys inserted the key and turned it.

Standing up you casually stalk toward the now open door. Indeed she was alone. This seemed all too easy for you. You tested the waters by taking one step out, then two until you were in front of her. You realized the two of you were initially the same height. Even in the dull light of the dungeons Daenerys’s hair was incredibly bright, giving her an almost white aura around her face. You were sure she was the most beautiful girl in the entire world. Not that beauty mattered much to you. Once, maybe when you were innocent ( you can’t remember a time when you were though), you had hoped to grow up into a beautiful lady. Fall in love with someone who would take you away and make you happy.

No one could make you happy though. Not even yourself.

Happiness didn’t exist for you.

You had been raised and trained to kill. You were a monstrous being.

That was why you kneeled down to supposedly tie your boots and once your fingers found the concealed daggers you lunged at the beautiful girl.

Her back crashed into the ground and knocked all the air right out of her. She shouldn’t have been so surprised. She should’ve known better. This girl was unpredictable. She should’ve at least brought Jorah with her and have him stand further down in the hall. But she so wanted to prove him wrong. Daenerys had thought she saw something different in the female assassin’s face. Something that told her that what Daario and Jorah had said was wrong. Yet there she was, having stopped the tip of the blade with her palm and feeling the sharp sting radiate throughout her hand. The warm trickle of blood kissed her pale palm as it rolled down to her arm. After all Daenerys had been through she should’ve known better. Not everyone could be converted.

She winces as she tries to wrap her fingers around the blade only further pressing it into her hand. She wanted to cry, to scream out in pain, but she had to try to get the knife out of the skilled hand.

As she turned her watering gaze to the unnamed girl she saw it. The fire. Flames that burned in (e/c) eyes. Fury and the strong drive to kill.

They looked exactly like Drogon’s eyes when he had snapped at her. It had been weeks since she last saw the biggest of her children, but she would never mistake his eyes. Daenerys may have been the blood of the dragon but this girl. . . she was the dragon. She was wasting her life with being a petty assassin.

“You could be so much more. . .” Dany finally found the strength to whisper catching the girl off guard. She clearly saw it as something twitched in her otherwise stoic face. She still pressed her dagger further into Daenery’s already blood drenched hand. “Why. . . Why are you wasting your time living like this? You could be something great.”

Something great.

Like what? A soldier in her crusade? There was nothing greater than being a well known assassin. They whispered your name all throughout Essos and those who knew of you in Westeros dare not even utter your name.

This girl insulted you.

Your nose scrunches in a snarl as you wind your arm back, watching her bleeding hand fall aside.

Her wide eyes stare at you without falter as you notice her chest tremble with evident fear. Full lips part and quiver as she lets out a shaky breath. “You could be more than assassin, taking orders from others. . . You could be a dragon.”

If you had the ability to laugh you would’ve. Westerosi lords and their mascots. They took it too seriously to where they thought they were that specific animal.

“As long as you live like this, no matter how many people you kill or how much you are paid it will never be enough. Just one meaningless task after another. Aren’t you tired? Wouldn’t you rather put your skills to good use and actually do something of merit? Fill your life with something that isn’t pointless. If you allowed yourself to grow you could be a dragon.”

You reel back as she spits out the truth you had feared for quite some time. Every word she said was true. Your life had become a repetitive cycle that you were growing bored of. It was never enough.

Nothing ever filled you.

You doubted even killing the Mother of Dragons wouldn’t satisfy you. You would probably just start another day and look for another kill. You weren’t a dragon but a jackal with a bottomless pit, always roaming the streets and devouring everything in sight.

Uncharacteristically your hands shook as they dropped your daggers. Everything crashed into you. All those years of your father beating all emotion out of you. Of your brothers poisoning you to make you stronger. You would die unhappy and starving just like your father had.

In this time Daenerys sits up and slowly backs away from you yet she doesn’t leave. “Join me and I promise you I can truly give your life meaning. I can help you live to your full potential.”

She offered you her red stained hand.

You slapped it away and ran.

*A FEW WEEKS LATER*

Daenerys hadn’t heard the end of it from Jorah. He fumed when he learned that the prisoner had escaped. Even more so when he saw her wounded hand. Melancholy, Daenerys had ignored Jorah’s worried and sulked quietly. Things had not been going well for her. The Sons of the Harpy had started attacking everyone that supported her. She had also been forced to lock up Viserion and Rhaegal underneath one of Meereen’s great pyramids.

Heart broken and weary, Daenerys had finally decided to choose a Meereenese husband in hopes that it would placate the Sons of the Harpy. She was not looking forward to what had to be done. She was queen though and would have to do things she didn’t want to in order to keep the peace of her people.

Her attention was brought back to the audience chamber where she had been sitting, hearing the complaints of the people. Loud yells pierced through the room before numerous Unsullied came flooding in with a familiar face.

The female assassin.

Daenerys notices Jorah prickle at the sight of her as his hand goes on top of the pommel of his sword. She didn’t think she would ever see her face again.

“Release her.”

“Your Grace. . .”

“I said release her.” She makes sure there’s a bite of authority in her tone. They do so and that’s when she notices a bag hanging off of her hip. She looked even more tiny without parading around in the bulky Unsullied uniform. Her (h/c) hair was pulled out of her face and Dany saw the dark circles that plagued her eyes. This girl had indeed lived a hard life.

Her guards flinch when she reaches into her bag and the ones closest to her turn their spears towards her. She arches her brows, slightly amused as she slowly retrieves a head out and throws it toward Daenerys’ throne. Jorah recoils but Daenerys keeps still.

“The head of the man who wanted you dead.” She says. “You say I can be more than an assassin. Prove it to me.”

The first time in quite a while, Dany smiles. “What is your name?”

“(y/n) (l/n).”

Getting up despite Jorah trying to get her to stay put, Daenerys travels down the steps of her platform, walks around the severed head and to (y/n). She takes off her necklace which had the Targaryen crest of the three headed dragon and pressed it into her hands.

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys targaryen fanfiction #daenerys targaryen fanfic #daenerys targaryen x reader #got #got fanfiction #got fanfic #got fandom #ASoIaF #asoiaf fandom #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf reader insert #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #Game of Thrones fandom

435 notes · View notes

fuck-customers · 4 months

Note

bitch-ass coworker/manager finally got fired today (i think) which I'm super duper hoping means I'm gonna get promoted to her position. this girl is on her phone literally all day every day. if shes not scrolling through something or other then she's got an airpod in on the phone with her kids, or her sister, or whoever the fuck, and it makes it impossible to do anything since, because she's a head cashier, we need her to approve any voids, returns, or suspensions on orders. she also frequently no-call-no-shows (which is what we thought was happening for the past two days, but we have reason to believe she's been sacked) and disappears for hours of her shift without telling anyone where she's going.

I don't wanna jinx it but I'm super excited at the prospect of finally being full time AND being rid of her. fingers are crossed.

Posted by admin Rodney.

49 notes · View notes

m1d-45 · 1 year

Text

hidden blessings

summary: thoma takes you to the teahouse, but you two are interrupted. you don’t know whether it’s fortunate or not, but it will affect your trajectory within inazuma.

a/n: this one goes out to @shizunxie and @alexteea, who asked for a part two to small miracles. i now fear talking in the tags [/hj].

word count: ~2.1k

-> warnings: spoilers for inazuma archon quest, spoilers for ayato story quest, probably out of character ayato…. green tea?

-> lowercase intended!

taglist: @samarill

<< first part || < masterlist > || third part >>

komore teahouse is warm.

the moment the door opens, it’s the first thing you notice. the air smells of honey and spices, heated by some invisible fire. your hand is still in thoma’s, leading you behind him as he moves into the teahouse.

taroumaru sits up a little straighter on the counter as you two approach, but doesn’t seem on guard. strange, considering you’re not a member of the kamisatos, but since you have thoma with you…

“hey there taroumaru! is anybody here?”

the dog barks once. you don’t know what that means, but thoma seems satisfied, pulling you to one of the tea rooms.

“komore teahouse is owned and operated by the yashiro commission, so only those approved by the con can enter. whoever your hiding from-“ how did he know? “-can’t get in here, alright?”

he waves at a cushion and starts to fiddle with a tea set, lighting a small flame on the end of one of his fingers for the heating element. it’s strange to see such nonchalant usage of his vision… but wouldn’t that be normal here?

people with dendro visions selling herbs grown to order, hydro users automatically refilling their drinks, anemo wielders catching a dropped pen or paper before it hits the ground…

not for the first time, you wonder how you ended up in such a world.

“there! that should be ready soon. i’ve made you green tea, hope you don’t mind.”

you shake your head. even plain water would be fine to relieve the burn of salt on your tongue, and the fact that he went so far to make you tea when he barely knew you..

you lick your lips, “thank you.”

he waves it off with a laugh, sitting down himself. “oh, don’t worry about it. and please, save your breath, id hate for you to irritate your throat on my behalf.”

you swallow. salt stings. you’re quickly getting tired of the taste.

“that being said, i do have some questions, if you don’t mind. for starters, you are hiding from the shogunate, right?”

you pause, watching the fire flicker. yes, he’s with the yashiro commission, but he personally had to hide with yoimiya from the vision hunt decree, didn’t he?

you nod.

“thought so… well, the good news is that i can help you, but you have to tell me why they’re looking for you, alright?”

there it is. the fact that he went so long without asking why you were hiding is a testament to his character, but even he couldn’t trust fully when he’s so close to the kamisatos.

though, he did bring you into the teahouse…

“you stay here, and i’ll go get a notepad from the back room. if the tea’s done by then, feel free to pour yourself a cup!”

he stands up from his spot and exits the tearoom, hesitating for a moment in the doorway before undoing the string keeping the cover tied above the doorway. the mat rolls down smoothly, swaying, and you’re suddenly alone in the room.

though being ‘alone’ probably doesn’t apply in a tearoom belonging to the kamisato clan. you don’t remember seeing the girl at the front, nor have you heard the other two NPCs inside, but that must only mean there’s more security elsewhere.

and that the clan must have moved the prior personnel.

…like to hunt for the imposter running around teyvat.

no matter how kind they looked, they were still involved with the shogunate. there’s no way they haven’t heard of the situation, and have likely dispatched some of their best to find you.

and you’ve walked right into one of their bases.

suddenly the warmth in the room feels oppressive, the soft smell of green tea overwhelming. you shouldn’t have caved. you shouldn’t have agreed to come with thoma, shouldn’t have let his kindness pull at your bruised, beaten heart, you shouldn’t you shouldn’t you shouldn’t-

“-ot necessary, my lord, i-“

“-best for you. please, allow-“

words outside your room pull you from your thoughts, muffled by your heartbeat in your ears. it’s familiar but you don’t know why, footsteps and voices passing through the thin walls. three men are speaking, and are quickly approaching your room.

you tense, but settle for grabbing a spoon to try and soothe yourself. they won’t come in here, you tell yourself. you have to trust thoma.

the footsteps stop.

“is this the room?”

it’s not your room. it’s not. you’re safe in the teahouse. you have to be. thoma is on your side.

fingers fit between the mat and the floor, carefully curling the edge to roll it back up.

no.

three sets of shoes appear. two are dark, one dressier with a golden design on it, and the third are taller, heeled, with a buckle. the mat rolls higher, almost ridiculously slow, revealing details you struggle to place.

white pants. brown striped shorts. a black belt, a jacket lined with purple on the inside, yellow tassels and black gloves and you hate that you don’t know who it is.

the mat reaches the ceiling, hands you now recognize as thoma’s tying it back up.

to his side are two men. one is dressed simply, like the many NPCs around the city, and the other…

kamisato ayato.

his clothes are far simpler than his model, but he’s unmistakable. calculating lavender eyes, framed by deceptively soft eyeliner and baby blue bangs. the vision dangling off his hip, the set of his shoulders….

it’s only by sheer will that your terror doesn’t show on your face.

the unidentified man hums, crossing his arms, and thoma looked between the two of them with obvious unease. they must be the voices you heard.

“hello.”

ayato is the one who breaks the silence, and you almost wish he hadn’t. his presence is far more intimidating in person, very much so what you should have expected from somebody of his status. you clutch your spoon tighter.

“i don’t recognize them, my lord,” the unnamed man says, and something in ayato’s eyes shift. you can’t decide if it’s better or worse.

“so you’re the one that’s caught thoma’s eye.” ayato walks into the room, taking a seat across the table from you. “why?”

you shouldn’t be surprised he knew that. you still are, as information couldn’t possibly be passed all the way to him in time for him to arrive.

thoma walks in, taking off the pot you didn’t notice was boiling, attempting to break the tension by pouring out two cups of tea.

the pot hesitates over the third cup. “hisashi, would you like some tea?”

hisashi. why is that name familiar?

the man—hisashi—shakes his head, but does walk in to lean against the doorframe. “no.”

the teapot is set back down on the table, but ayato raises a hand as thoma steps away.

“please, stay. i have as many questions for you as i do for…?”

his eyes turn to you and you can feel the bitter taste of salt burn away any thought you have of responding. the tea looks too hot to drink, and you’re not sure if green tea would taste the same here anyway.

“ah, i never got you your notepad!”

thoma tries to leave for a second time, and ayato stops him again with a questioning look.

what had you gotten yourself into?

“they’re sick, and their voice doesn’t sound too good. i was getting them a pen and paper to ask my own questions before..”

a small smile crossed the commissioner’s face. “excellent job, thoma. you may leave; and please, take your time.”

thoma quickly bows before leaving with hurried steps.

ayato’s gaze returns to you, and he picks up his cup, swirling it twice before taking a small sip. his eyes sweep your figure, pausing momentarily on the hand with the spoon. you let it go, pulling your hand back into your lap, and he hums. after another drink, he sets down his cup.

“you should really try some,” he says, nodding at your untouched tea. “thoma always makes excellent tea.”

you don’t doubt it, but you’re not keen on drinking something still steaming. it may be wise to drink it, something something green tea has medicinal properties and the warmth will ease your throat…. you still don’t touch it.

his eyes flash, and you feel like you passed some sort of test.

“are the shogunate after you?”

you nod.

“do you know why?”

you hesitate. you technically do, as it’s likely the same reason you were chased out of liyue and everywhere prior, but you still don’t know why they’re accusing you of such things. you didn’t do anything initially, you’d barely gotten out your name before…

“interesting.” you look back from where your eyes have wandered, seeing his smile has grown. apparently your silence was answer enough. “you’re not from inazuma.”

it’s not a question, but you shake your head no anyways.

“and yet you know me.”

why wouldn’t you? he’s the head of the yashiro commission, a prominent figure in inazuman politics. even outside of inazuma, surely there’s people that know the yashiro commissioner, right? you know he stays out of the public eye most chances, and that ayaka handles that side of things, but still. it can’t be that rare.

ayato takes another drink of his tea. you wonder when thoma will come back. ayato told him to ‘take his time,’ but finding a pen and paper shouldn’t…

…oh.

kamisato ayato. what else did you expect?

“do you have any plans to stay in inazuma?”

you didnt have plans at all, really. you fully expected to die in the ocean, whether by the fall or the waves or the rocks below. perhaps even osial, if you were unlucky. all you wanted was food and maybe some clothes; you didn’t think you’d get this far.

you shrug.

“given your state, i doubt you can leave,” he points out. “do you even have any mora?”

the jab works better than you thought it would, the memory of the kind hilichurls sharing the mora from the chests they guarded for you to get things from marketplaces sparking defensiveness. of course you have mora, because you had friends.

“even if you did-“ oh, he is far too good at his job “-i don’t believe it’s enough for you to make yourself presentable enough to get a job.” he’s speaking to his teacup, watching the tea swirl. “so i offer you a deal.”

of course. of course he wants a deal.

“you tell me why the shogunate is after you, and i will protect you from them.”

what.

there’s no way he could do that. he couldn’t just go against the tenryou commission like that. there’s no way. there has to be a catch.

“i can see you’re confused.” if you weren’t certain it would hurt, you’d have said something sharp in reply. “thoma is an excellent judge of character. though he is sometimes far too kind for his own good, he still knows a criminal when he sees one. i am inclined to agree with his judgement, and this wouldn’t be the first time the tenryou commission has unwittingly accused an innocent.”

…huh?

the sudden tone shift sends your brain in a loop, repeating his words over in your mind. he was offering you an out? why was he willing to go so far from his duties for somebody he didn’t know?

ayato finishes his tea, setting down the empty cup on a platter. he seems to be waiting for your response, surprisingly, and the only problem is that you don’t know what to say.

you’re faced with the same dilemma again: trust, and get involved with people that could get you in severe trouble were you to be caught, or decline, and risk getting caught quicker by giving up that safety.

footsteps project thoma’s rearrival. he hesitated in the doorway, likely sensing the tension, but comes in anyway, placing down first a plain notepad, then a similarly simple pen on top.

“would you like anything else, my lord?”

“sit, please.”

thoma pauses again, and it’s comforting to know that not everybody here knows everything.

that point is driven further home when he chooses to sit next to you rather than ayato.

the commissioner himself seems shocked, his eyes widening slightly as he sits up straighter. beside you, thoma’s hands twist in his lap, and you wonder if even he knows why he chose what he did.

ayato clears his throat, catching your attention once more.

“do you accept?”

#hisashi is ayato’s ‘most trusted member of the shuumatsuban’ as told by himself during his story quest btw #genshin #genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau #thoma #sagau thoma #thoma x reader #coping with the knowledge that somebody reads my shit tags #getting war flashbacks to all the rambling i’ve done below the ‘see all’ button oh no #sagau ayato #ayato #i honestly feel like this one is so much worse than the first ughhhh #do i like it? sure! is it bad? absolutely!#duality of man n all that #also never fear i am in fact doing a part 3 haha #this is just a good place to stop #editor me saying that this isn’t as bad as i thought. poggers #ehhhhh yeah this can be posted. as a treat.

440 notes · View notes