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silversatoru · 3 years

Note

Ok ok- don’t judge me but get this- College AU, Where Ereh and his friends all go to a nearby maid cafe and turns out his s/o works there, and his s/o is wearing a EXTREMELY short maid outfit and she starts to flirt with Eren’s friends, and basically Eren had enough and dragged his s/o to a bathroom stall, and fucked them calling y/n their little slut, etc. and fucked them so hard they couldn’t work the rest of the day- BYE- 🏃🏻‍♀️ 💨 🚪

maid cafe

a/n: i would never judge you for this???? your mind is incredible and this idea has corrupted my brain for days,, please send more of your wonderful ideas to my inbox. and please let me know what u think bc i truly hope i did u proud

eren yeager x female maid cafe!reader

synopsis: eren and his friends go to a maid cafe and his new girlfriend is their waitress — so he drags her to the bathroom and makes sure she knows who she belongs to

tags/warnings: smut, dom/sub, degrading, mild humiliation, mirror sex, public sex, mentions of drug use

word count: 3.4k

“hey, we should check out that maid cafe downtown. i heard the waitresses are fine,” jean smirked as he proposed the idea, passing a blunt he’d just finished rolling over to eren.

eren graciously accepted the weed, but clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes at jean’s new idea for their friday night. a maid cafe wasn’t particularly up his alley -- he’d just started dating you a few weeks ago and didn’t have any interest in drooling over other women all night. but he was bored and if everyone else wanted to go, he supposed he’d tag along too.

“hell yeah, pretty girls in short skirts sounds good to me,” connie jived, a giddy smile on his face as he blew out some smoke from his own blunt.

“don’t you think that kind of place is a little disrespectful, guys? we shouldn’t view women as-”

“you’re too uptight armin, maybe we can find a nice girl to suck you off and loosen you up a little bit” jean laughed and cut him off as the blonde boy continued to give his immature friends a disapproving look.

“whatever i’m in, just let me finish this first,” eren held up his blunt and took another long drag, “i wont be able to stand you assholes all night if im not high”.

the four of them hung around their shared four-bedroom college apartment a little longer, finishing up their smoke sesh and flinging half-assed insults at one another. the sky was already getting dusky by the time they actually left and were walking through the small, bustling town surrounding their campus. the cafe wasn’t too far, maybe a thirty minute walk, but it was a beautiful spring night and shit, gas is expensive.

armin’s face was horribly flushed when they finally arrived and entered the front door, the poor boy completely unable to even make eye contact with the hostess standing in front of them. his shyness earned him a swift elbow from eren — his way of telling the blonde boy to relax a little bit.

the young hostess spoke to them in a sing-song tone, her hair perfectly curled to frame her face and her cheeks pink with blush. connie and jean completely ate up everything she was doing, gawking at her like a bunch of losers who hadn’t gotten laid in way too long — which is exactly what they were. eren was almost relieved when she finally sat them at a table and walked away, because he couldn’t stand to listen to jeans' horrendous attempt at flirting any longer.

everything on the menu had cute names that matched the theme of the cafe, and while eren and armin browsed the options, connie and jean continued to whisper about the different waitresses and which one they hoped they got.

as for you, it had been a pretty uneventful night, normal customers and nothing too crazy — that was until you walked up to the newest table you were assigned and saw your boyfriend and his friends sitting around the booth. eren and you hadn’t been dating all that long, a few weeks at most, and you hadn’t even met any of these friends yet. anxiety began to pool in your chest, but you tried your best to put on your best voice and greet them like they were any other table — after all, eren was staring so intently at the menu that he hadn't even noticed you yet.

“welcome home, masters! can i get any drinks for you?” you push your voice up to a high octave and make sure to draw out the word masters — it was the opening line that every waitress was required to use by the cafe.

two of the four boys are ogling at you so intensely that they might as well have drool hanging off their desperate lips. a third boy is keeping his eyes fixated on the table as if he doesn’t want to look at you — which is something you’re not quite used to. and eren is staring at you with his mouth gaping open, which he quickly shuts before any of his friends can notice.

he decided to sit back and watch, an amused look on his face as you continue to flaunt your extra-girly facade. he decides that now isn’t a great time for introductions to his bonehead friends — plus he knows you’re nothing like this in real life, so it’s entertaining to watch you act so out of character.

not to mention you look hot as fuck in your skimpy maid outfit — the tight corset-like top hugged your breasts perfectly and your skirt was so short he could practically see the base of your ass cheeks. he could definitely get used to seeing you like this.

but his amusement quickly started to fade as connie and jean shamelessly showered you in compliments and flirted with you like their lives depended on it. and what makes it worse is you’re playing along — he gets that it’s your job but still, can’t you just tell them to shut the fuck up?

he shoots the two idiots across from him a dirty look as soon as you walk away, “hey dumbasses, cut the girl a break”.

“hey man, i didn't hear you call dibs or anything,” connie raised an eyebrow at him.

“yeah dude, we’re just fucking around, chill,” jean added, a light laugh hanging off his last word.

eren couldn’t do anything but roll his eyes in response. he didn’t want to outright expose your relationship yet but he wouldn’t be able sit here and watch this all night either.

his blood was practically boiling when you returned with a tray full of their drinks. connie and jean turned their charms right back on for you, and fuck, if he had to hear you call them “master” one more time he was gonna lose his mind.

“armin get the fuck out of the booth,” he glared at the blonde boy, practically pushing him out of the booth so he could get to you.

armin yet out a small yelp, clambering out of his seat and letting eren climb out after him. the dark haired boy gave you the sweetest smile, but his eyes were lit up like flames.

“hey, mind showing me where the bathrooms are?”

you find yourself frozen in place for just a second, but quickly recover and give him a quick “of course master, follow me!”

the two of you walk to the bathroom in silence, but you can practically feel the heat radiating off of eren.

when you reached the restrooms you opened the door for him and bowed your head, but he grabbed your wrist and yanked you inside behind him, earning a small yelp from you. you noticed him snap the lock down behind him, and before you could even question his motives you were backed into a wall with his lips working roughly against yours.

“so this is what you do all day? walk around with your ass hanging out while calling people master?” he growled in your ear while moving down towards your neck and placing violent kisses along the sensitive skin.

“i- ah- if it bothers you-“ you breath out between gasps, your hands pressed defensively to his chest, “god, you reek of pot, eren”.

“no, it doesn't bother me, i love watching you flirt with other men. but let me remind you who you actually belong to now,” he murmured, voice dripping with sarcasm as he nibbled up to your ear and his hands fondled with the zipper at the back of your uniform.

“eren!” a strangled yelp leapt from your throat as he unzipped you and let your costume fall around your ankles.

for a second you thought about trying to stop him, but his hot lips against your cool skin was starting to win you over. your neck was undoubtedly covered in bruised love marks now, your skin aching in the most beautiful way.

“take it all off,” he mumbled into your ear as he snapped the strap of your bra against your skin.

“we’re in a bathroom eren, i don’t-“ you tried to reason with him, but any inkling of a rational thought was long gone from his mind.

“what’s with all the protests? you had no problem following orders when my friends were the ones giving them,” he cocked an eyebrow at you and lifted his loose shirt over his head in one swift motion.

you could have retorted or made a jab back at him, but your attention was caught up in the perfect lines of eren’s physique. between the sculpted curves of each of his muscles, his dark hair tied in a loose knot at the base of his neck, and the evil smirk across his lips, you were rendered indefensible. everything about eren was so intoxicating, and the idea of letting him have his way with you right now, in this bathroom, was starting to sound less and less like a bad idea. you weren’t sure how long you’d been staring and admiring when his lusty voice filled your ears again.

“did you forget how to use that pretty mouth of yours? i’m sure i can give you a little refresher,” he faked a frown and pointed to the floor with his index finger.

without a shred of reluctance you sunk to his feet. he had you in a state of utter compliance now, and all he had to do was mutter a few arrogant words and take off his shirt — you were almost ashamed, almost.

after a few smooth movements of his fingers against the drawstrings of his sweats, the tip of his member was hanging mere centimeters from your face. you glanced up at him with giant eyes as he stared down at you with his clouded ones. between his raging hunger for your body and the high that was still clouding his mind, there wasn't a single coherent thought in eren’s head other than the way your lips would feel wrapped around his cock.

“open up, princess. if you wanna act like a slut, i’ll treat you like one,” he grabbed the back of your head and forced it forward.

your lips parted without even thinking, and he thrusted his full length down your throat without any warning. you were left coughing and sputtering, the walls of your throat constricting against his cock and sending a few curses from his lips.

he slowed down slightly after that, but kept a steady pace as he mouth-fucked you until tears were leaking down your cheeks. you were gagging and coughing and your face was stained with salty saline but you loved every second of it. his head rolled back as raspy grunts fell from between his teeth, his fist tightening at your scalp.

after he thought you’d finally had enough he pulled back and released your hair from his steel grip. his cock was aching now, coated in a thick layer of your sticky saliva and yearning for more.

“get on the counter,” he ordered, and you scrambled to your feet in a way that was embarrassingly desperate.

you boosted yourself up onto the cool countertop, positioned perfectly between two sinks and leaning back against the mirror. eren placed a firm grip on each of your legs, shoving them open and snickering at the slick patch of fabric between your thighs.

“you like being treated like a whore, don’t you?” he clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth and reached down at your panties before yanking them off in one fell swoop.

he squatted down so his face was level with your cunt, sticking out his tongue and dragging it up to your clit with antagonizing slowness. he moved the warm muscle up and down, sliding it between your folds and in circles around your clit — but his tongue was just barely making contact. and every time you bucked your hips towards him, begging and yearning for just a little more he’d pull his head back and click his tongue at you.

you were aching, leaking, and so incredibly needy for him and he knew it. he’d transformed you into the crumpled mess laying before him in a matter of minutes, and he was very proud of it.

“i’d start begging if i were you, or i’ll leave you here like this — a stupid broken slut with no one to fuck her,” he stood up and cocked his head to the side before beginning to tease your entrance with a single finger.

“ah- eren, please! i’ll do whatever you want,” you whimpered at him, a pitiful look on your face.

“eren? you know you’re not supposed to call customers by their name here,” he shook his head, “you’ll have to do better than that”.

“please- master, use me however you want. just please fuck me already”.

that seemed to suffice for eren, because after that it didn’t take long for him to shealth himself inside you and have your sweaty back slamming into the glass mirror behind you. strangled moans and pitiful whimpers slipped from between your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head in complete bliss. he’d teased and tormented you for so long that the sudden intense stimulation was almost too much.

he fucked himself into you so hard you thought you might break — your legs ached and your back hurt from awkwardly leaning into the mirror. but those feelings were quickly pushed to the back of your head because the overwhelming pleasure was so forceful that you could barely focus on anything else. eren’s length was grinding deep into your aching caverns so good that it was completely clouding your brain.

you let out a stifled gasp when he abruptly pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and aching for more.

“why-,” your voice was so destitute and so, so desperate.

“shut up and stand in front of me,” he commanded, pulling you off the counter and twisting you so you were facing the bathroom mirror.

“look at yourself in the mirror and watch me fuck you,” he practically snarled, placing a palm on your back and pushing your chest down against the counter, “look at how much of a slut you are for me”.

the only response that came out of your mouth was a tiny whine of acceptance — it was pathetic.

a breathy moan fell from your lips as he slid back in, and your cheeks blushed a dark shade of red as you watched yourself get fucked from behind. it was embarrassing, humiliating even, having to see yourself like this, but what made it even worse was that you fucking liked it.

“look at yourself,” he nodded towards the mirror, picking up his pace and tightening his grip on your hips, “just a dumb whore who’s good for nothing but taking orders from other people”.

“only- you!” you let out a strangled yelp.

“what was that? i don’t think i heard you,” he thrusted hard, reaching deeper than he had the entire time and then leaning over your back so his head was positioned right next to yours.

“say it again,” he murmured, burning holes through your eyes with how intensely he was staring at you in the mirror.

“i’m a dumb whore, but only for- you,” you repeated, squirming and whining at the painful pleasure he was forcing into you.

“that’s right,” he flashed you a satisfied grin, standing back up and resuming his original pace.

the sudden shift had you clawing at the smooth countertops — desperately wishing you had a pillow or sheet to grasp onto for some kind of support. you flinched when you felt a couple of his cool fingertips find your clit, immediately rubbing hasty circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“i want you to come for me,” he locked eyes with you in the mirror again, “and i want you to think about how i’m the only one who will ever make you feel this good the entire time”.

his words were harsh but they sounded like honey when they flowed through your pathetically devoted ears. between his consistent thrusts and the pads of his fingers working their magic, you were a pitiful mess of whimpers and moans in a matter of minutes. your body twitching and legs shaking as you mumbled his name over and over — it was the only word your brain could comprehend right now.

seeing you like that nearly pushed eren over the edge himself, but he forced himself to last a little longer, wanting to milk your orgasm for everything that it was. he was genuine when he said no one else would ever make you feel the way he could — your head was spinning and your body was on a high that felt like it would never end.

only once your body finally fell limp and tired, signifying that your climax had ended, did he pull out and spray his seed all over your exposed back. you were a sticky, sweaty mess and your legs didn’t have the strength to stand even after eren was done coming down from his own high.

your face was buried in your arms when you felt a wet paper towel cleaning up the mess of semen off your back. eren tossed the towel into the garbage and wrapped his arms under your torso so he could help your pitiful self stand up. you let out a few pained whimpers, stumbling into his arms and wrapping your hands around his neck.

“that bad, huh? how are you gonna go back out there and work for all your masters? i’m sure they’re waiting,” he smirked at you, and there was no sympathy in his voice.

“i- i don’t think i can,” you whined, clinging to him as your legs continued to shake underneath you.

eren shook his head and clicked his tongue, helping you over to your clothes and assisting you with getting back into your uniform. even after getting dressed your legs refused to work — you were a shaky, stumbling mess. you sat in a pitiful heap against the tiled wall while you watched eren get his own clothes back on.

“i think you might need a new job,” he snickered, squatting down and lifting you onto his back once he was dressed.

you graciously climbed onto his back, arms wrapping around his neck and burying your face into his neck, “yeah, yeah i’ll get a new job”.

“good idea, because everyone’s about to see how pathetic you are as we walk through the cafe,” he wrapped his arms back under your backside to support your weight.

“there’s a back exit right down the hall, please take that one,” you begged, “please”.

“well. since you asked so nicely and did so well i guess you deserve that,” he complied, exiting the bathroom and following your directions to the back door.

but because you have the worst luck in the world, one of the cafe managers came walking right around the corner just as the two of you were about to leave. you buried your head deeper into eren’s neck, unbearable amounts of embarrassment and shame flooding your veins.

“hey man, she quits, sorry!” eren yelled and handled it for you, dashing out the back door before the manager could even comprehend what he’d just seen.

“thank you,” you mumbled into his shirt, and you were truly thankful that you didn’t have to speak for yourself in there.

“no problem, princess,” he adjusted one of his hands so he could squeeze your ass, making you jump against his back, “let’s head back to my house for round two, yeah?”

“r-round two?” you stuttered.

you could barely handle round one, and he was ready to go again? how!?

“i’m joking, relax. let’s go watch a movie or something,” he chuckled, hoisting you higher on his back and beginning your long walk back to his apartment.

you sighed and sunk into his back, that sounded nice. there was a huge difference in how eren acted earlier and how he was acting now, but you were a sucker for both personalities. you expected college to consist of classes and work and maybe a few new friends but meeting eren yeager was sure to make it a lot more interesting.

#attack on titan smut #aot smut #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin smut #eren yeager #eren #eren yeager smut #eren smut #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader #eren x reader smut #smut #eren jeager smut #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager x you #attack on titan x reader

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blackkatmagic · 3 years

Note

Could I please request a drabble with Mace meeting Jaster? Time travel shenanigans would be loved and heart-eyed, but are not required.

“A Jedi is hiring a Mandalorian for a job?” Jaster asks, one brow raised, and can't help the thread of incredulity that creeps into his voice. “Perhaps you're confused, Jetii, but our people have been enemies for millennia.”

“I'm well aware,” the Jedi says, unmoving. Jaster has, admittedly, never been quite this close to a Jedi, and he can't help but be faintly impressed at the man’s stoneface, particularly given the bright-eyed Chalactan girl peering around his side. Her hands are hooked into his sash without any apparent fear of being shaken off, or any apparent concern for her Master’s dignity, and Jaster finds himself reluctantly amused despite the man’s temerity.

“Oh?” Jaster asks, leaning back in his chair. His blaster is within easy reach, and the Jedi is far enough away that Jaster has the advantage. “Bold of you to approach me with a job offer, then.”

“Is it?” the man asks, and reaches up, folding his hood back. Jaster stills, startled, because he hadn’t thought there were Korun Jedi—Myles has always been very insistent that the Korun people have their own Force traditions, and outsiders aren’t welcome to step into them. He’s a handsome one, too, tall and broad shouldered, with a lean strength to him that even the loose, comfortable robes can't hide. Steady, he meets Jaster's eyes, and says, low, “It seems to me, Mand’alor, that our status as enemies means no one will suspect me of having hired you.”

Ah, Jaster thinks, smiling. Like that, is it. He hums, then says, “Jango, who don’t you show this lovely padawan the gardens? I'm sure she would like to see them.”

“What?” Jango demands, outraged the way only a fourteen-year-old can be. “Buir, I'm not leaving—”

Jaster levels a pointed look at his son, and his mouth snaps shut. He scowls, deep and affronted, and crosses his arms over his chest. “You shouldn’t be meeting with a Jedi alone,” he says grumpily. “Myles is going to yell at you.”

“Myles will survive,” Jaster says, though it’s likely true. “Master Jedi, I hope you don’t object to speaking privately.”

“Of course not,” the Jedi says, perfectly calm, and glances down at his padawan. “Depa. Be polite.”

That is, Jaster reflects wryly, an incrediblyfamiliar tone of voice. He’s willing to bet the girl gets herself into almost as much trouble as Jango, given how practiced it sounds.

And, on cue, the girl beams up at her Master without hesitation. “I'm always polite, Master Mace,” she protests, perfectly, wickedly innocent. Mace doesn’t answer, just sighs, and Depa laughs, rising up on her tiptoes. She hauls him down, no thought given to dignity, and plants a loud, showy kiss on his cheek, then hops back two steps and turns that smile on Jango, who freezes like he was just dipped in carbonite, his eyes going wide.

She is, Jaster thinks with amusement, a very pretty girl. He wonders how quickly Jango will manage to stick his foot in his mouth this time. Within ten minutes, judging by last time. Jaster doesn’t precisely have high hopes for their interaction, but at least this isn't the daughter of a high-profile client that Jango is going to offend. The Jedi needs them, not the other way around, and given Jedi morals, he likely won't turn to the Death Watch the instant he’s insulted.

“Depa,” Mace says, a warning, but Depa ignores it, grinning at Jango and folding her hands behind her.

“I would love to see the garden,” she says cheerfully. “Jango, was it?”

“Jango Fett,” Jango says, only a little mulishly, and takes a careful step forward, like he’s worried she’s going to bite him. “It’s this way, I guess.”

He couldn’t sound less enthusiastic if he tried. Jaster rather suspects he is.

As the door slides shut behind their two witnesses, though, Jaster's amusement fades slightly, and he turns his gaze on Mace, narrow and thoughtful as he considers the man, his presence on Mandalore, the quiet, entirely understated way he arrived.

“This isn't a mission from the Jedi Order,” he says, weighing. “I might even go so far as to say they have no idea of your presence here.”

“They don’t,” Mace says bluntly. “I'm here on my own business, and acting on information the Jedi Council isn't privy to.” There's a pause, and then a rueful curve just touches one corner of his mouth. “Believe me, Mand’alor. I do not go behind the Council’s back easily. This is vital, and I'm willing to provide the funds to prove it.”

Jaster smiles, a little humorless, a little thin. He’s not fond of being played, and this sounds very much like Mace is trying. “I have plenty of credits, Master Jedi. Why should I find yours any more appealing than anyone else’s?”

Mace doesn’t hesitate this time, just raises his chin. “Because I have something that is far more valuable than credits,” he says calmly. “I can provide you with information.”

It is, Jaster will admit, a tempting prospect, but he’s still wary. “Jedi information? Access to the Archives, perhaps? If I wanted dry Jedi tomes on political law—”

“No,” Mace interrupts, flat, and takes two steps forward, until he’s right across Jaster's desk. “Far more important and immediate information. Such as the name of the traitor who will kill you. And the location of Jango Fett's older sister.”

Jaster freezes, hardly daring to breathe. Arla was gone by the time he’d made it back to the Fett homestead on Concord Dawn, and no trace of her has ever surfaced. Jaster has been looking, because Jango speaks of her endlessly, but—

“That,” he rasps, voice half-caught in his throat, “could be considered blackmail, Master Jedi.”

Mace tips his head. “Proof of my desperation,” he says, and there's no self-consciousness to it, just blunt honesty. A pause, and then he says, faintly rueful, “I’ll give you her location whether you take the job or not. The Death Watch has her.”

Jaster was afraid of that. He breathes out, slow, careful, and—the willingness to offer up half of his bargaining chips makes him more inclined to trust Mace, even if a flicker of wariness still remains. “And the job is?”

Mace doesn’t waver, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t flinch. “I want you to assassinate the senior senator from Naboo. Sheev Palpatine. He’s a Sith apprentice.”

Of all the things that Jaster was expecting, that most certainly wasn’t among them.

It takes him a long moment to scrape together a coherent response, another still to get the words right. “Apprentice,” he echoes. “Usually, an apprentice follows a master. Who is the Sith Master, then?”

“A scientist and a banker,” Mace says coolly. “Palpatine is the more dangerous target, and a better duelist. I can handle the Master, but the apprentice I would leave to someone more adept at assassinations.”

It would hardly be the first time the Mandalorians have been hired for such a thing, and Jaster is more than willing to do it. Knowing that Mace will be fighting his own battle allays some of Jaster's fears as well, and he leans on one arm of his chair, considering the man.

“A fraught mission,” he says, “on both parts. You have a plan, I assume.”

If anything, Mace looks amused at that. “The Jedi do not plan,” he says, a trace of humor in the words. “I trust the Force to see me through, however. And as I am training Depa, I will have all the time I need to see things through.”

Jedi, Jaster thinks, and doesn’t roll his eyes. Quite. “And would you care to tell me where you got this information, Master Jedi? Particularly about a traitor within the ranks of the True Mandalorians. I must admit that one surprises me.”

Mace is silent for another moment. “From the future,” he finally offers. “I traveled back with the help of a Force nexus. In the time I came from, the True Mandalorians were wiped out, and the Sith won.”

Something cold slides down Jaster's spine, and he rises slowly, comes to his feet to face the Jedi. Mace meets his eyes, holds his gaze, and—

He looks tired, Jaster thinks, calculating, considering. Tired in a bone-deep, weary way that Jaster had managed to miss before, buried as it was by his determination. Traveled back from the future, through time itself, and Jaster didn’t know such a thing was possible.

Not possible for most people, he thinks, watching Mace. And not optimal even for this one.

“Very well,” he says after a long minute of silence. “But on the condition that you stay here and provide your information throughout the mission. I won't have a Sith kill my men because you think you have better things to do.”

The relief that slides over Mace's expression is subtle, but—Jaster catches it easily. “Agreed,” he says. “We will rely on your hospitality, Mand’alor.”

“Jaster, please,” Jaster says, and moves around the end of his desk, taking Mace's arm. Muscled, he thinks, and that’s likely a good sign. Not a useless Jedi, hopefully. Not if he’s certain he can take on a Sith. “I think the use of first names is allowable now that you're my guest.”

“You have a liberal interpretation of guest,” Mace says dryly, but he doesn’t pull away as Jaster leads him out of the office, and Jaster is willing to count it as a win.

[On AO3]

#my writing #jastermace #jaster mereel #mace windu #star wars

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cazimagines · 3 years

Text

Perfectly Exasperating - Chapter 3

Synopsis: While you have been unknowingly kidnapped Zemo is determined to make the time he spends with you the best that he can

Word count: 5.4k

Author’s note: Hey all! This is sorta a one-month celebration of my account and for all the love you guys have shown this series and my other series 'A Freudian Slip' I can't thank you enough! My editing program decided to screw me over though so if you can see a difference grammatically in the first half and the second half that's why

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Your eyes slowly flutter open as the warmth from the sun shining through the curtains touching your skin waking you up. Yawning and stretching, feeling the soft duvet move on top of you, you sighed in content, closing your eyes again as you embraced the happiness which had been foreign to you for so long. You reach out to seize the end of the duvet and gradually slide out of the bed; you feel the slight chill of the morning breeze brush against your exposed legs. Crossing over to the wardrobe your hand reaches out to flick through the many dresses, shirts, trousers that hung in there, all belonging to shops such as Gucci, Prada, Valentino. There were clothes appropriate for any event, but today you choose comfortably as you pull out a maroon knitted sweater and dark blue jeans. Though appearing to be rather cheap clothes, you knew Zemo would never have spent less than $100 on them.

When Zemo said he would take care of you, he meant it in every aspect. It was a culture shock going from the relatively poor life you lived, surviving off the small amount of money they paid you for being an Avenger to being treated like royalty by Zemo. Not that you were complaining. It was a guilty pleasure of yours enjoying this luxury, a part of you hoping it would never end. If you had told yourself just a few weeks ago, you would have enjoyed living with Zemo you would have laughed in your face but that man had certainly turned on the charm and you couldn’t help but feel the slightest big thankful for him for everything he has done for you.

You finally leave the confines of your room, something you had only been allowed to do a few times until today. You convinced Zemo yesterday that you weren’t concussed from when John had hit you with the shield and that you would be fine getting up and walking around. He was still hesitant but knew he couldn’t keep you confined in your bed forever.

You close your eyes as you inhale the sweet smell of cooking pancakes, making your stomach grumble greedily. Following the scent, you work your way down through the interior design living room into the lavish kitchen where Zemo currently had his back turned to you as he attempted to flip the pancake he had in the frying pan. His purple turtleneck sleeves were pulled up, exposing his forearms as they tensed, trying to get the timing right to flip the pancake. He does so with perfect accuracy, the golden brownness of the pancake soaring up into the air and landing back down in the frying pan, sizzling.

Zemo giggles to himself, celebrating his minor achievement as he waves the frying pan, his body swaying along slightly with it.

“That smells heavenly,”

Zemo whips around at hearing your voice pierce the air. “Ah y/n! Please, take a seat while I make breakfast,”

His eyes follow you as you take a seat down at the table he had prepared for this morning, then focus back on the breakfast at hand. You pour out some orange juice Zemo had left on the table, then your gaze flickers back to him as he finishes cooking. He stacks the pancakes onto two plates and grabs some sugar, maple syrup, and lemons out of the shelves, giving you a choice of toppings.

You scoff as he turns around, seeing on the apron he had tied around himself the words ‘kiss the chef’ on it.

“Really?” you ask, raising the glass to your lips as you watch him glance down to his apron and then back up to you offended.

“You don’t like?”

“It’s embarrassing to look at!” you exclaim as he places the plates down on the table and sits down opposite you.

Zemo’s eyebrows twitch as he scoffs back at you, “I think it suits me, plus a kiss is expected after I worked so hard on breakfast” he says, tapping his cheek with his finger.

You raise an eyebrow, letting a breath out as you laugh, “Yeah, in your dreams,”

You two settle into a comfortable silence as you readily eat the breakfast he made. The pancakes were soft but delicious, sickeningly sweet but you have always had a sweet tooth and so it seems, does Zemo.

“I thought you would have one of your staff make breakfast, you never struck me as the person to do something yourself when you can make others do it,” you say breaking the silence as you finish the last of your pancakes.

Zemo glances up to you, tilting his head, “Why do you think that? Because I grew up rich?”

You nod, not attempting to make yourself sound nicer, “Yes. It’s common knowledge the rich are always spoilt”

His lips twitch up into a smile at your bluntness. He sighs, leaning back in his chair, crossing his legs as he addresses you.

“You’re right. Even though Sokovia was a rather small country, I grew up with more riches than most people could dream of. But at least I acknowledge my privilege. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

“Depending on what you use your privilege for. Blowing up the UN isn’t exactly putting it to good use now stop avoiding my original question,”

Zemo bites the inside of his mouth as you see through his attempts at trying to dodge the question. His admiration for you however outweighed any annoyance he might have felt at being called out for it. Leaning forward again to rest his arms on the table he says,

“It’s only me, you and my Butler who occasionally comes in. After I was arrested, there was no work for my staff so they all left and I can’t exactly hire anyone else,”

You nod, satisfied, then dab the napkin that Zemo has set out beside you, on your lips to get rid of any leftover sugar. You place your hands on the table and push yourself up from it.

“Well, thank you for breakfast, and thank you for looking after me this last week… that was nice of you, but I better be going. Do you know where my phone is?”

Zemo’s eyes furrow and he immediately stands up as you walk away from the table. He rushes past you, stepping in front of you to stop you from walking.

“You can’t leave y/n,”

Your head jilts back in confusion, “Why not?”

“We ruined Karli’s plans, so she is trying to find us. That’s why Sam and James are out hiding and why we must remain here,”

“I can handle Karli,” you tell Zemo, trying to step past him, but his hand reaches out and grasps your arm firmly.

“Not a super-soldier y/n. It’s too dangerous, especially after your recovery. James and Sam will reach out to me once it is clear to leave, but for now, we stay.”

You huff in frustration, shaking Zemo’s hand off your arm as you cross them. “Well, at least get me a phone so I can keep in contact with them too,”

“I’m afraid I can’t get you a phone currently, but you are welcomed to use mine. Alas, James and Sam have my number but I don’t have theirs’s so unless you remember their numbers we have to wait till they message first to reach out to them,”

You let out a melodramatic sigh, rolling your head looking to the side of the room then back to Zemo.

“So what the hell am I to do to keep occupied?”

Zemo tilts his head, his eyes flicker to the side in thought as he opens his mouth wordlessly and his eyes move back to yours, his eyebrows raising as he frowns thinking over the idea that has just entered his head.

With his fingers, Zemo, gazing at you eagerly, beckoned you down the corridor, towards a giant door that was at the end.

“I’m not a dog Zemo” you complain as you follow him

“Have you ever heard of dramatic effect?”

Zemo had taken off his apron and replaced it with that coat he loved to wear so much. You firmly believed it gave him a power complex. He strutted to the end of the hallway and placed his hands on the door. His face turns to you smirking, enjoying this dramatic pause as you roll your eyes at him. He pushes the door open and stands to the side, sweeping his arm across the space to let you in.

You walk past him and your eyes widen in amazement as you walk into the most magnificent library you had ever seen. The room itself stretched out almost further than you could see, seeming to go on and on. The shelves looked like they reached up to the sky, each one stacked with thousands of beautiful hardback books. The design of it looked like you had just stepped into heaven, with white and gold being the main colour scheme. On the ceiling was a painted sky with the gods on, looking down at you. On the pillars separating the shelves were little cherubs, their bows positioned to pierce your heart. Everything about this library was beautiful. It felt like a library that should belong to a museum not kept in this private mansion.

“You see why the dramatic effect was necessary?” Zemo says stepping up beside you, looking out at the shelves before you.

“Zemo this is… this is beautiful,”

His eyes flicker to you then back to the library, a smile appearing on his lips, “Yes, I suppose it is. When I was younger, I had always taken things like this for granted, but after my time in prison I believe it’s made me more humble,”

You walk over to the nearest bookshelf, letting your fingers brush over the colourful hardbacks. You pull one book out, stroking the golden platted side. “You must have every practically every book in existence here”

“I have more books than I could ever get round to reading. You can find anything you want to read here,”

After ten minutes you had gathered a rather sizable book pile you were determined to read, full of fictional and non-fictional books, some of your favorites and some you had never read before.

Zemo chuckled as you tried to hold all of them in your grasp. As you picked one up, the book on the very top of your pile slipped and fell to the floor. Panic surged in you, worried you would damage something so expensive, but Zemo’s hand appears and catches it before it could hit the ground.

Straightening up, he gave you an amused smile, “Maybe you should let me help carry them”

Accepting his help, he takes half the book pile off you and guides you over to a place deep in the library where you two could read. There were two light green armchairs facing each other, with a fireplace just behind them. To the side of the chairs were small tables which contained bookmarks, a goblet, and an ashtray, and to the side of one chair was a globe which could be opened, and inside it held a decanter full of whiskey.

Zemo places the books in his arms on the table then walks over to one shelf, browsing till he finally finds the book he was looking for. He returns to find you getting comfortable in your chair, opening the first book.

“Whisky?” he asks, opening up the globe beside him.

A few days ago you would have said ‘no, no way,’ but today you smile and nod your head, reaching out with the glass beside you to gracefully accept the drink.

The next couple of days were spent similarly with you and Zemo spending much of your time reading in the library together. Occasionally you two would even read to each other as he had first done with you when you had woken up here. Though you would never admit it to him, his smokey voice made you very comfortable. If he tried, he could lull you to sleep with that accent of his.

You couldn’t help but try to separate the Zemo you know now as the one you used to hate. Yes, he had torn apart your family, but he had all the reason for what happened to Sokovia, what happened to his family. Plus, this Zemo seemed to try hard to make it up to you. Almost too hard. He was trying everything to keep you entertained while you were stuck here, make your life as comfortable as he could. It was nice.

You strolled into the kitchen hearing the quiet buzz of the radio playing the latest top hits and the sound of someone humming along to the music. In there you find Zemo by the counter, fixated on the bowl he held in his arm and the spoon in his hand as he delicately tries to put the mixture into the cupcake trays before him. You had offered to make food, feeling like he always did too much for you but every day he insisted he would, even on days where it Butler would come around.

“Need help?” you ask, walking over to stand beside him.

He glances at you, then back to the tray he has laid out before him. “I’ve got a handle on this,” he replies just as he spills some mixtures onto the counter, making him swear under his breath.

“Uh-huh, sure,” you say, looking down at the spilled mixture. You turn to face him, letting out a chuff as you place a hand on his arm, “Zemo stop being so prideful and let me help”

As soon as your hand comes in contact with his arm, he freezes. He glances down at the ground, swallowing then his eyes flicker to yours and he smiles gently, his usual arrogance disappearing. “Okay,”

You grab a spoon from the draw and help Zemo scrap off what he puts into his spoon into the cake tray with accuracy. You two stand together, your shoulders brushing up against each other till you finish and put it into the oven.

“We have 30 minutes until we need to get them out. Why don’t you read for a bit while I clean up,”

“I can help clean up,” You tell him already going over to the sink to turn the water on, “You’re not my servant Zemo,”

“Helmut” he suddenly says

You turn back to look at him, confused at the seriousness of his face, “Please y/n, call me Helmut,”

Your mouth moves wordlessly for a moment, then you say, “Helmut,” trying the name out on your tongue. You were so used to calling him Zemo, you had forgotten that that wasn’t his first name.

“Thank you” he whispers, glancing away from you bashfully.

He takes a towel off the side of the rail and dries up everything you washed as you two settled into a peculiar silence.

Attempting to liven the atmosphere again, you put a cup just at the right angle of the running tap that the water splashed into Zemo’s coat. He steps back shocked, glancing down at his coat then back to you. He lets out a laugh, his mouth open in surprise that you would do that. “Oh, if that is how it is”

Zemo quickly grabs a mug, running it under the following water. Realizing what he was going to do you let out a squeal and rush for the door but you don’t get far enough till you feel the water hit your back, soaking your t-shirt.

“Helmut!” you gasp as he chuckles at you. You run forward to grab the nearest thing in front of you to chuck it at him, a piece of bread in this case but he ducks as it flies over him. He fills the cup up again and runs towards you but you get to the table and hide on the other side till you were both poised opposite each other waiting for one of you to make the first move.

“This isn’t fair!” you whine, feeling the coldness of your t-shirt cling to your back. “Who said anything about fairness!” Zemo shouted back, grinning at you.

Eventually, you two called a truce when the oven chimes letting you two know the cupcakes were finished baking. After that day, Zemo always asked if you wanted to help him make meals.

“Is the popcorn ready?” you shout as you jump up from the floor where you were placing the DVD into the DVD player.

“Almost done” Zemo calls out.

While waiting, you settle yourself down on the middle of the red sofa, twisting your back to get that perfect spot as you stared up at the giant screen in front of you.

Zemo emerges from the kitchen holding the popcorn and places the bowl onto the table in front of you. He settles down beside you, instantly positioning his arms on the top of the sofa, resting behind your head.

He leans forward to pick up some of the popcorn, tossing it in his mouth as he asks you what you have chosen to watch tonight.

“Beauty and the Beast,” you say excitingly and Zemo coughs, leaning forward as he accidentally inhaled the popcorn in his mouth.

He wipes the tear from his eye as he leans back and you give him a confused look, “Do you not like the film?”

“No-no, it’s not that. W-why do you want to watch the film?”

“It’s my favorite Disney film,”

He nods his head slightly looking down at the popcorn, “I see…” he then glances back to you, looking you in the eyes, “Why is it your favorite Disney film?”

You lean back sighing as you think the movie over, “Well, I’ve loved it since I was a kid. I always wanted to be like Bell and I found the beast so sweet and gentle”

“Even though he imprisoned her?”

“He let her go in the end, and she came back to him”

Zemo opened his mouth wanting to say more, but you sushed him as the movie started, wanting to concentrate only on it.

Zemo turned down the lights to make the experience feel as cinematic as he could of you. Grabbing the bowel he offered you some of the popcorn and you smiled at him in thanks. He tried to enjoy the movie, but his eyes kept wandering back to you, watching your expressions as you watched the movie. His heart skipped a beat every time you laughed at it when that gorgeous smile would grace your face, even in the sad moments where it looked like you were about to cry. He loved seeing how you reacted to everything. There were so many things he had taken for granted, and it felt like he was discovering them all over again with you. It fascinated him to find out the beauty and the beast was your favorite film. It was almost ironic given your current situation, one of which you remained painfully unaware of. He knew he couldn’t keep you in the dark forever. Sam and James were bound to discover where you two were eventually, which is why he wanted to enjoy every moment he had with you to the fullest before it was over.

As the movie went on, Zemo could feel your body moving closer and closer to him. The heat that radiated from your body made him want to wrap his arms around you, but he didn’t know if that would go too far. Roughly by the end of the movie, your head rested against his chest, moving slightly up and down as he breathed. He could tell by your shallow breathing you had entered the realm of dreams.

Looking down at you, he couldn’t help but admire how peaceful you looked. When on the mission with Sam and James you had always appeared tense, prepared to fight your way out of a situation as soon as possible, but at this moment you were relaxed and it made his heart flutter. He could look at you forever like this and never tire of it.

He had found himself in the past comparing you to his wife. He felt conflicted feeling this way about another woman, but how he felt about you differed from how he felt about his wife. It was new, exciting, addicting. Slowly raising his hand, he brushes a piece of hair that had fallen over your face while you slept. Your skin was smooth against his fingers and so soft. His fingers lingered on your skin before finally, he let his arm rest around your body, holding you close as you slept against his chest.

Your arms were raised, feeling the walls on either side of you as you tried to figure out if you were going and if you were about to bump into anything while Zemo’s hands were clasped around your eyes tightly.

“Don’t you trust me y/n” he whispers in your year, snickering.

“Do you want a pleasant lie or the harsh truth?” you ask, turning your head slightly but Zemo tuts and moves your head back with his hands

“Not long now, just a few more steps,”

“Till what!” you whine

“Be patient y/n!”

Zemo lifts one hand of your eyes telling you to keep them close and you hear the creak of a door open ahead of you. His hand returns to your face and with slightly pushing his body against yours, he urges you forward into this new room.

“Can I finally look now?”

Zemo removes his hands and steps back from you, “Okay y/n, open your eyes”

Opening them you gasped in shock seeing what was before you. On a stand was a replica of Belle’s dress in Beauty and the Beast. Its honey yellow colour shone out, the top of it tightly clung to the mannequin it was on while the bottom poofed out, it hung with no shoulder straps and came with yellow gloves. Everything about it was perfect.

“Helmut I- I’m, stunned,”

“You like it?” he asks anxiously

You turn to him grinning, “Of course I do!”

You hug him tightly, ecstatic, then rushed over to the dress, brushing your fingers along it. “It’s beautiful” you whisper.

“I think I got the sizes right,” Zemo says coming up beside you, a pink tinge to his cheeks, “There’s only one way to know for you,” he adds on, turning to you giving you a gentle smile

He helps you take the dress off and chuckles as he watches you rush off with it to get changed, then leaves to get changed himself.

The dress fitted perfectly on you. Everything from the bust down to the waist. Even the gloves fitted perfectly. When you entered the bathroom, you found Zemo had even found some make-up in case you wanted to use any. He thought of everything.

Finally looking at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. You truly felt like a Disney princess. Slowly you walked back down the stairs and enter the room Zemo had to lead you in, to begin with. As you walked in, let out a merry laugh as you saw Zemo, dressed up in a blue jacket, embroidered with yellow roses on the sleeves, just like the beast. He was standing by a record player, putting a disk in as you walked in. He turns to look at you, his mouth opening in wonder.

“Y/n… you look glorious,”

His sincere comment makes your cheeks heat up and you hold your arms out to him, squeezing your hands letting him know you want to hold his hands.

He turns the record on and your favorite song from Beauty and the Beast floats out, making your cells light up with excitement.

“Helmut” you start to say as he walks over to you, holding his hand out, “Why are you doing this?”

He gently takes your gloved hand, bending over to kiss it. “I know it isn’t easy being stuck in here all the time and you said you loved ‘Beauty and the Beast’ so I thought it would make a pleasant treat,”

His arms hesitantly touch your waist as he looks into your eyes as if asking it was okay. You nod and step closer to him, taking his hand in yours holding it up. Getting into the waltz position you two start to move along the dance floor, swaying to the music.

You two slide along the ballroom floor, picking up speed. As you look up to him, he breathes out smiling back down at you happily. His hand on his waist spins your around as your dress flutters out. You squeal in delight as you grasp back onto his hand as you felt dizzy.

You two turn around the floor looking each other deep in the eyes. You could feel his breath on your face as you two were barely inches apart from each other. Zemo pulls you in even closer as your arm goes around his neck, your body pulled into his. He dips you as you cling to him tightly for dear life as the music fades.

He holds you into that position, panting as he looks at you, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. You could feel that pull towards him, your eyes starting to flutter shut. He leans towards you but suddenly you feel your fingers slip and you almost let go of him. His other hand quickly wraps around making sure you don’t fall to the floor.

He helps you back on your feet and you two steps apart. You look away feeling your cheeks burn up again.

“Helmut, thank you. Thank you so much” you tell him earnestly

He looks deep into your eyes, smiling in bliss, “Anything for you y/n”

“Y/n, are you awake?”

You groan as you hear Zemo whisper beside you, waking you from your sleep.

“Ugh, Helmut what time is it,” you moan turning over with your eyes are closed.

“It’s 8, time to wake up”

“Nooooo” you whine screwing up your eyelids.

You hear him chuckle and then you feel something push against your lips. You open your eyes confused to see Zemo beside you, holding a strawberry to your lips.

You smile and take a bite out of it, moaning in delight as you taste its sweetness as you sit up. He sits up beside you and holds out some melted chocolate for you to dip the strawberry in.

“Helmut, you spoil me”

“Not enough,” he whispers back as he puts the chocolate-covered strawberry to your lips letting you take another bite.

“I’m not even surprised anymore to see you in my bed when I wake up,” you tell him

“Technically this is my bed”

“You know what I mean!”

He chuckles as he pushes his head back into the headboard, “I thought it would be a nice way for you to wake up,”

“Consider me impressed,” you tell him, looking over at him smiling. He glances back to you, his lips twitching up. You lean into his side, not caring at the moment you were in a simple nightdress. You close your eyes inhaling his cologne and picking up a strawberry to feed to him.

“I could get used to this,” you whisper to him

You scan the piano music book before looking back down to the notes before you. It had been a while since you had last played so you thought you might as well pick it up while you were stuck in Zemo’s mansion.

You press the notes but every time you tried to play one of the chords you always missed one. You were trying to play your favorite song 'Comptine d'un autre été' but to no avail.

“You need to flow with the music and not worry about hitting the right notes”

You turn around and smile as you see Zemo approach you from behind. “Isn’t the whole point of music to play the right notes?” you say sarcastically

Zemo lets out a huff chuckling, “Well yes but you’ll hit the notes when you stop trying so hard. Now try again”

You turn back around and attempt the music again but hit the wrong notes making you slam the piano in annoyance.

“Don’t damage the piano”

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, “I should give up,”

“No don’t do that” Zemo says, brushing his fingers over your waist, “Here let me help you”

He puts his hands on top of yours guiding them, “Let’s try again,”

You look to the music then back down to your hands which had Zemo’s resting on and attempt to start playing again. His hands moved in time with yours as they guided along with the piano, pressing down on your fingers when you needed to. You got every note. Well, Zemo got every note.

“See, easy,” he says as he pulls back from you. “Now try again”

You attempt to play again but feeling his eyes stare into your back you couldn’t concentrate and messed up the notes again.

“We just went through this!”

“It’s hard to concentrate with you staring at me!” you exclaim turning around to him. Your eyes widen as what you just said as he tilts his head, a smug smile appearing on his lips.

“Oh, I make it hard for you to concentrate do I?”

You groan at his cockiness, looking away from him so he doesn’t see your glistening red cheeks.

He walks up behind you again, his fingers grazing your jawline, stopping at your chin as he raises your head to look up at him. Seeing him look down at you made a knot in your stomach tighten.

“You are awfully red y/n”

“Shut up”

He chuckles and leans down, placing a kiss on your forehead, “I like it when you blush”

The breath gets caught in your lungs as you feel his lips on your forehead, their softness cooling your burning skin.

For the first time in your life, you were rendered speechless, by Helmut Zemo no less.

His teeth flash in his smile as he looks down at you, “Come let’s practice this again” he says, leaning over as his back pressed into yours, putting his hands back on top of yours.

“Zemo do you mind if I borrow your phone briefly to see if that new video has been released?” you call out picking up Zemo’s phone that he had left on your seat.

“Go ahead! Just don’t check anything else on there” he yells back

“Worried I will find your nudes?” you call out as you unlock the phone. Pressing onto the youtube app you sigh in annoyance seeing no new video and so you were about to put the phone back down when a message appeared from a contact simply labeled ‘S’

It read, ‘S: Look just tell us where you have taken her. Whatever you are doing with her it isn’t worth it”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion at what the hell could that message mean. You click onto the message stream just to see a ton of messages from this ‘S’ contact but with no reply from Zemo.

You hesitate for a moment, knowing Zemo wouldn’t want you to do what you were about to do, but your curiosity got the best of you and you pressed the call button.

It rang for a few seconds and then the line picked up.

“Zemo” Sam’s voice rang out through the phone

“Sam?” you ask back

“W-what, YN/!? Are you okay? Where are you?”

“Woah Woah Sam, calm down, I’m fine! I’m with Helmut-Sam what is going on?”

“What has he done to you?”

“What do you mean he's done nothing, Sam I thought me and Helmut were hiding out here till Karli was done with her plan?”

You hear a sigh down the phone and then the muffled voices of what you could make out as Bucky and Sharon down the line.

Sam picked the phone back up and spoke directly, “Y/n you need to get out of there now. Zemo, he's kidnapped you”

The phone slips from your hand and lands on the floor with a loud crash.

Tag list: @sinister-sleep @cable-kenobi @faustlyaccused @chipster-21 @icarusinstatic @yallgotkik @montypythonsholysnail @bunniwritesx @checkurwindow @huntheimpossible @jayxkelsi @avgravy @prestigious-tea @aloyssiac @hannahbal-the-fannibal @alainabooks143 @jokerprettyprincess @plumsandkiwis @latenightartist-author @e-barba @flutterskies @loonylunalovegood77 @lieutenantn @wonderwoman292 @there-goes-thefighter @multiyfandomgirl40 @freyjasamael @ineffablebean @arianalilyblack @mandowhatnow @scullys-alienpussy @felicityofbakerstreet @babayaga67 @spookycereal-s

#baron zemo #helmut zemo #zemo #zemo x you #i love zemo #zemo imagine #zemo fluff #tfatws #daniel brühl #marvel #mcu #zemo x y/n #zemo x reader

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edie-baby · 3 years

Text

Baby Boy Chapter 5 | Lando Norris

Summary: Milana Navratilova is the best friend of Victoria Verstappen, and is for lack of a better word, a minx. She can pull anyone into bed with her at any time. So when she attends the Austrian Grand Prix with Victoria, the drivers make for good bedfellows. Until she finds a man who makes her finally feel like herself. Her baby boy.

Warnings: smut, swearing, non-con kiss (will be a chapter warning for that one), OC is a w h o r e and i love her.

The Austrian summer sun glared into Milana’s eyes from her position in the middle of the master bed. She rolled over slightly, wanting to get out and find her best friend so they could go for breakfast and then some shopping they both knew was inevitable on any trip. With a huff, the Czech stood up, only just realising exactly how sore the men had made her. She waddled to her suitcase, willing herself to suck it up and keep walking around until she got used to the pain.

A white pleated skirt and tight red cropped shirt seemed like a suitable enough outfit for her day’s plans, so with a waddle only a penguin could rival, Milana made it to the bathroom for a hot shower. The entire hotel room had the unmistakable smell of sex, and she was sure she’d need to leave the room before the smell seeped into her hair and clothes. Maybe housekeeping could work some magic while she was out.

“BABE ARE YOU HERE?” Milana heard the very recognisable croaky voice of her best friend. She called out that she was in the shower, and in a few short seconds, Victoria was sitting on the vanity in the bathroom, swinging her legs while Milana continued to cover herself in body wash that smelled delightfully of cherries.

“So, you had a good time with Lewis, I hear.” Milana giggled, and Victoria couldn’t help but to laugh along. She knew it was ridiculous that the man was able to make her scream his name so loud and for so long that she nearly lost her voice entirely.

“And judging by the bed, your silk tie, and the overall reek of the room, you did too. So, who’d you bring back? Daniel? Max?” Victoria questioned. While her brother was off limits to most of her friends, Milana was one of two women Victoria was familiar with that she would allow to mess around with her brother.

“Both.” Milana replied. Victoria gasped, giggling out a quick ‘you whore’ before asking what exactly her best friend meant.

“Like, you took Daniel from the party and picked Max up down the hall?” Victoria pressed, the only other option was that they had willingly come together, which didn’t seem like something her brother would be comfortable with.

“Nope, took them both at the same time.” Milana answered as she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself as Victoria looked at her in complete shock.

“Oh, I’m never going to let Max live that down.” Victoria giggled before she jumped from the counter and moved to grab some clothes to wear for the day. Milana got dressed into her outfit and felt quite proud of how cute it looked considering she had basically picked up two random items and hoped for the best. About forty-five minutes later, the girls left the room hand-in-hand, their makeup and hair done as beautifully as it was last night, but hopefully today it would last more than a few hours before getting ruined.

“Morning Max! Going to see Dan?” Victoria chirped as she saw her brother walking toward where she and Milana waited for the elevator. Max’s face went a deep shade of red and the girls simply laughed and stepped into the elevator together.

Victoria and Milana had found a cafe nearby the hotel to have a quick brunch before heading out for their big day of shopping. As soon as they walked in, many heads turned thanks to the jingle of the bell above the door. Victoria spotted the Twitch Quartet in one of the tables up the back, the rest of the patrons seemed to be members of teams from all over the grid, as many of them were dressed in their team kit.

George waved the two girls over, coincidentally there were two seats spare at the table, one squished between Lando and the wall, and the other at the head of the table. As Victoria was a few paces ahead of Milana, she took the spacious seat at the head with Alex and Charles nearest to her. Milana practically floated over to the seat beside Lando and sat with her back leant up against the wall, her knees brushing against the Brit’s thigh.

“Milana, I’ve heard quite a bit about you. I saw you at the party last night, but didn’t get a chance to chat to you. I’m Alex, I drive with Max.” The Thai introduced himself, offering a hand to shake as he was straight across the table from Milana. She accepted it gracefully, a sweet smile curling her lips. She could see from the corner of her eye that Lando was looking at her with a small frown on his face.

“What’s wrong baby boy? You look upset.” Milana commented with a soft voice, the late night and early morning contributing to her voice being a little huskier than usual. Lando blushed fiercely at the pet name and bit his lip. The others around the table looked shell shocked by the words that had fallen from the Czech woman’s lips.

“You just look tired.” Lando mumbled, his blue-green eyes darting up to make contact with the dark hazel of Milana’s. Her eyes softened at his words, and she couldn’t help the smile on her face. She patted his thigh softly and assured him she was alright.

“You girls looked lovely last night, by the way. I didn’t get the chance to tell you before you were leaving with Daniel and Max, and then Vic disappeared not long after.” George complimented. Victoria giggled, the fact that she had teased her brother about going to see his ex-teammate less than a half hour ago, and already the two were being brought up together.

“Yeah, I noticed that too. And also noticed the noise an hour after that.” Alex grumbled. Milana smirked, and saw the shock smack Charles and George in the face. Lando seemed to be watching her with intrigue.

“Wait, you took one of them back to your room?” George questioned. At this, Victoria burst out laughing, garnering strange looks from everyone but the woman of the hour.

“Well, no. Not one.” Milana spoke, staring George in the eyes until he understood what she was implying. He gasped so hard he choked on his spit and began coughing up a lung. Victoria rubbed his back sympathetically, while Charles continued trying to figure out the implications of the woman’s words in a language that was not his native tongue. Lando and Alex had understood at the same time as George, albeit with less dramatic reactions. Alex’s jaw dropped, his ideas of his teammate changing as he stared at the woman in front of him. Lando’s eyebrows were raised, a small smirk on his face, he was impressed.

“So, let me get this straight. You convinced Daniel Ricciardo, the womanizer of the grid, and Max Verstappen, Mr. I Don’t Share Anything to have a threesome?!” Alex almost squealed. It was at this point where Charles caught up, the blunt words finally clearing his confusion up, at which point he began mumbling in broken French. Milana simply nodded at George and took a sip of Lando’s iced coffee, to which he barely reacted.

“Fuck, they must have ruined you.” George muttered, looking at Milana with sympathy and a small shake of his head. Victoria began giggling at this again, and George looked at her with confusion. It was obvious at this point that the young Verstappen couldn’t hold the truth in without giggling.

“My wife here has a special talent for making difficult men submit.” Victoria nodded proudly at Milana. George began coughing again, Alex looked like a fish, his mouth opening and closing silently, and Charles began rambling in proper French this time, however he was talking so fast that Milana barely caught the worlds ‘petit friponne’ before tuning back out. Lando was staring at her again, the earlier expression was gone, and he looked at her with a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. Milana couldn’t help but want to assure the adorable boy in front of her that it was just sex, and if there was anyone she had her eye on at the moment, it was him. But alas, she didn’t.

The group finished their brunch with a lot of stories, laughs, jokes, and new friendships being formed. It made Milana a bit upset as she and Victoria made their way to the Aston Martin they were borrowing, that in about five days, she would be returning to her apartment in Prague, going back to work, and being forgotten by people she could have lifelong friendships with.

The drive to Vienna from Spielberg was about two hours, according to the GPS Victoria had programmed whilst Milana fiddled with the position of the driver’s seat. A few moments later, the girls were on their way, a playlist of their favourite singalongs and party songs blasting through the stereo, the windows down and the two women completely carefree.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #team lando #lando norris x oc #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris smut #mclaren f1 #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic #call me eden

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confused-stars · 3 years

Text

Kurogiri’s Nanny Service - Part Three: Monoma

(part one) (part two)

It's a comfortable rainy afternoon, and three kids are huddled over a pile of wallets, watches and jewelry on the floorboards of Kurogiri's bar.

Keigo's small wings are puffed up in pride as Himiko admires a bracelet, rhinestones shining in the dim light when she turns it this way and that.

Tomura seems more invested in the wallets, going over the business cards and such with interest, and piling off the money and credit cards separately from the rest of the treasures.

He pauses to stuff a bill into his pocket, and Takami, who is sprawled out in a nearby booth, pries one eye open. "If you wanna have sticky fingers, you gotta be more subtle about it, brat."

How he noticed is beyond Kurogiri entirely. But it's been a point of contention how terrible Tomura really is at stealing. Or any kind of subtlety. He was never trained for that, with his sensei always telling him to just take what he wants by force, but he gets frustrated that Takami seems to catch him every time.

Keigo pouts, even as Tomura puts the money back. "C'mon, To, that's my hard earned haul! You don't even need money."

Tomura rolls his eyes. "Neither do you, beakface. Kurogiri would take care of your stuff, too, if you asked him."

Keigo's hand flies up to his nose and he makes an affronted noise.

"Not how that works, baby bunny," Takami interjects, "Villains don't wanna owe debts. Even to their friends." He gives Kurogiri a glance. " 'specially to their friends."

Kurogiri meets his gaze evenly. "Does that mean I can expect you to pay your tab today?"

Takami throws his head back and laughs as if that was the funniest joke he ever heard.

The children giggle, too.

Traitors, all of them. How is he ever going to make honest villains out of them like this?

Kurogiri decides not to complain about it, because he's the adult here and he'll act like one.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. He knows better than to ignore it, so he glances at the text he's received. It's just coordinates. That's nothing unusual. In fact, it's more common than getting sent actual words as instructions.

"I have to go," he says, already creating a portal in the air.

The children don't even react beyond small noises of acknowledgement. They're already more than used to this, too.

It's only Takami's eyes that bore into the side of Kurogiri's head as he steps through the portal, sharp and predatory. He's been asking questions about the man in charge of Kurogiri and Tomura recently. He's suspicious.

Kurogiri is not allowed to tell him more than necessary, but he understands the concern. Takami is bringing his child here, after all.

And the concern might not be unfounded - Keigo is passionate and clever, already skilled at pickpocketing, and his quirk is incredibly useful and versatile. If he weren't considered a possible future asset, Kurogiri doubts that All for One would be allowing this to continue. He's always been strictly against Tomura socializing with other children his age, or anyone at all. And now he's allowing both Keigo and Himiko. Not to mention the fully grown, dangerous villain. Tomura has never been happier, never been more stable. There has to be some kind of plan at work here that Kurogiri can't see yet. Some kind of additional angle.

The portal vanishes behind Kurogiri; that strange tension of using his quirk, of stretching it out like a well-trained muscle, dissipating at once.

He's standing in a nondescript room that he's been to many times to pick up objects to transport, or have a meeting with All for One outside of his main base of operations. Sometimes they keep prisoners in here.

This time, though, it's empty save for All for One and a small child.

Kurogiri immediately feels part of him soften, even as his guard goes up.

The boy looks to be maybe Himiko's age, six or seven, with neatly combed, blond hair and startlingly grey eyes that look awfully familiar.

"Introduce yourself," All for One says in that gentle tone he usually reserves for Tomura alone.

The child bows politely. "Hello. I'm Monoma Neito, it's nice to meet you." His words and tone are carefully formal, but there's a slight clumsiness in the way he speaks. It's, frankly, adorable. And nothing Kurogiri is used to. None of his children have manners.

"I am called Kurogiri," he replies, "It is a pleasure to meet you as well."

"Are you made of that stuff?" Neito asks pretty much immediately once the very basic niceties are done with. He waves his arms at Kurogiri's form to indicate what he means.

It's a good thing Kurogiri is used to Himiko. And the other children's bluntness, too, to some degree.

"... for the most part," he replies, and then gives All for One a questioning look.

"Neito is my grandson," his master explains, and Kurogiri can't find it in him to be shocked. They do look similar enough. "His parents are out of town on most weekends," All for One continues, "So I offered your services."

Kurogiri wants to sigh. He's not actually a nanny. Is he? If even All for One is treating him like one, he might as well put up a sign. (Tomura hardly counts, Tomura is his boy.)

"Of course." He bows his head. Neito seems well-behaved anyway, it shouldn't be much trouble.

___

Fifteen minutes later, there's a small boy hanging off of Takami's wing by his teeth, and Kurogiri has very little recollection of how they got here.

"I hate your job," Takami laments, shaking his wing with very little gentleness in an attempt to make Neito let go.

Kurogiri reaches out to hold his wing in place, and Takami freezes.

"I... apologize. I was under the impression he was a little better behaved than this." He gently nudges Takami to sit down, his wing spread out, and Neito ends up finally letting go once his only other option is to end up sprawled on the floor.

"You can't just bite people!" Himiko chides, "Even if it'll feel nice, it won't be nice for them."

Neito breathes, then shakes himself. "Your quirk is weird!" he complains.

Kurogiri nods in sudden understanding. All for One told him about this, before he left them to their own devices.

"Neito, you should not copy someone's quirk without knowing what effects it will have on you. Or at the very least you should test it in a safe environment."

Neito crosses his arms. "This is safe."

Kurogiri sighs. "Yes, it is, but you still didn't give a warning. The adults that are taking care of you need to know when you're experimenting, so we can keep you from getting hurt," he explains.

"Or ourselves," Takami grumbles.

Neito huffs. "Fine." He doesn't apologize. Kurogiri doesn't make him. He somehow doubts All for One would approve of that - he never apologizes for anything, after all.

The wing Kurogiri is still holding onto pushes against his hand.

Kurogiri glances at Takami, curious, but the thief is very pointedly avoiding his gaze.

He always tells Keigo he's 'too trusting' when he lets the other kids touch his wings, and Kurogiri has never dared to. Much less touch Takami's. It just happened on instinct this time.

The wing pushes against Kurogiri's hand again. The upper edge of it feels strong and warmer than Kurogiri expected. The feathers here aren't particularly soft when Kurogiri runs his hand along them. Not as soft as he imagines the down feathers to be, anyway.

Not that he's going to try to find out. That would be wholly inappropriate.

"You're cold as fuck," Takami complains, but he's not at all pulling away, and Kurogiri continues, trailing his hand down lower to the longer secondaries that make up most of the actual wing.

"My apologies. It's my quirk." Must be. His quirk is highly complicated and has more layers to it than he can count. Sometimes he gets strangely upset that he's not able to give Tomura warm hugs. Not that Tomura enjoys physical contact much, anyway, but Kurogiri feels like he should be able to give him some warmth, and his body under the ever-wavering vapor is cold as a corpse's.

"Your quirk sounds like a pain in the ass," Takami murmurs, "But at least it looks cool."

Kurogiri chuckles. "I'm flattered you think so."

"You got a real face under there somewhere?" Takami cranes his head back to eye Kurogiri skeptically. "Your hands feel solid enough."

Kurogiri gives a half-shrug in answer. "There's... something underneath. But I don't know what it looks like. The mist never fades."

"Mysterious... hey, can you pull out that crooked feather over there? 's itchy as all hell."

The preening thing is another family activity that Kurogiri has avoided so much as commenting on in the past. Now, he carefully tugs at the feather that's standing out from the rest of them, until it comes loose and Takami sighs in relief.

"Yeah, fuck, that's better."

"You said fuck," says Neito, behind them, and Kurogiri nearly jumps. He hadn't thought the children were paying any attention to them right now.

"Twenty minutes to corrupt a child, you're beating your own records," he says dryly to Takami, who cackles and reaches out out ruffle Neito's hair, but the boy steps back and frowns at him.

Neito is very well-kept, and Takami is kind of... well, grimy. And scary-looking. Kurogiri doesn't blame him.

"Aye, and I'll say worse words, so you better get used to it, li'l chompers."

Neito's nose crinkles when his frown deepens.

"Don't tease the child," Kurogiri scolds, feeling not for the first time like he shouldn't have to take responsibility for Takami, the thirty year old adult.

Then again, he somehow doubts that anyone taught Takami manners during his own childhood.

"Hey, why can't I be chompers?" Himiko complains, tugging at Takami's other wing like there's nothing to it. Her hands are probably sticky with something, as usual, but Takami doesn't move away.

Maybe he's not that terrible with children.

"Ah, 'cause you wanna be. It's no fun when you like the nickname," Takami explains, picking her up and plopping her down into his lap.

"I actually really like mine!" Tomura says from atop the bar.

Takami snorts. "Once we teach you decent thievin', next point of order is makin' you not be a shit liar."

Tomura huffs, crossing his arms. "I don't need to know how to lie. Sensei never lies."

That gives Takami pause. His eyes meet Kurogiri's, and he pulls his wing away, folding both neatly against his back.

"Yeah, I'm sure he doesn't."

#nanny service au #j writes #hawks tag #progress is being made #this is so slice of life that i have plot points planned that will be exclusively happening off screen #the ss kurokami is such a small ship that it's basically a rowboat but that still technically makes me a captain

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anakinisvaderisanakin · 3 years

Text

Introductions (AU; the government are introduced to the Emperor’s right hand man)

Emperor Palpatine sat at the helm of the table, his expensive ornate satin cloak pulled up to cover his deformed features. He had made a rare exception to the never appearing in public rule, if only to summon his little group of closely affiliated followers for a less than chummy supper. The Coruscant sun had already begun to set, its pinkish rays disappearing behind the skyscrapers visible from the large single viewport of the Emperor’s dining hall. Two months had passed since the fall of the Republic. Two months since the war came to an end, two months since the Jedi were declared traitors and executed en masse. Two months since Palpatine declared himself dictator, since his regulations had begun being pushed onto all known systems. Two months, and Governor Tarkin had thought himself to be lucky with his role.

A few faces, he recognized. Former admiral Wullf Yularen was a welcome addition despite being a bit below the required rank, fighting the just fight against outliers and naysayers. Orn Free Taa was a more unfortunate case (he had likely invited himself by flattery and empty promises), while Vizier Mas Amedda was an obvious presence. Sate Pestage, Janus Greejatus, Ars Dangor, Kren Blista-Vanee and Verge’s smug faces had Tarkin fighting the urge to roll his eyes at their insipid subservience. Artist Eveli Charis was, Tarkin figured, the most surprising member of the meeting - serving as the only female face of the small crowd. Her aside, and finance minister Gagh rounded off the gathering.

These people were - each in different ways - the most influential people of the new Empire.

“I have not gathered you simply for the sake of sharing a dinner in the wake of our victory. Indeed, I have been wishing to relay to you my plans for the grand future of our Galaxy,” said Palpatine suddenly, his voice gravelly and his gnarly hands reminiscent of claws where they rested against the table cloth.

Tarkin thought he could see a pair of golden eyes gleaming beneath the shrouded darkness of Palpatine’s hood, but chalked it up to a trick of the light. Instead, he focused on the hand stitched embroidery of the Emperor’s burgundy robes. The man had always had an affinity for fancy dress.

“It is clear that you shall provide eyes and ears for me, and I trust you to fulfill your duties towards the Empire, and subsequently to me. However, I’m afraid I must offer you a small surprise.”

“Another, Your Highness?” Tarkin said with an amused smile, and he couldn’t help but feel triumphant when Palpatine let out a pleased cackle in response.

“I’m afraid so, Governor. Surely, you shall all take this little revelation in stride. Are we not in dire need of powerful allies?” he responded, gesturing with one clawed hand towards the Vizier who stood poised by the doorway.

On each side of the hydraulic sliding doors themselves, a royal guard clad in crimson stood at a patient salute. The Emperor’s personal bodyguards, their faces cloaked and hidden from view much like Palpatine himself. Their presence was an odd mixture of reassuring and oppressive, Tarkin had decided. But he saw no reason to fear them, given his own standing with the Emperor. If anything, he benefited from their presence as protectors.

“Will you reveal to us this secret, Your Highness?” asked Charis, her expression curious and incredulous at once.

“My child, have you not been taught the virtue of patience?” was Palpatine’s response; a thinly veiled insult that put her in her place, as she shrank back in shame and lowered her head in an obedient bow.

“Forgive me my insolence, Your Highness,” she offered, apologetic and the Emperor simply shrugged her words off.

“Think nothing of it. You are correct, it appears to me that I have unfairly omitted mentioning this to either of you. Alas, it is time I remedy this arrogance.”

Tarkin noted how the Emperor turned his head briefly, giving the Vizier a barely perceptible nod and the man stepped back. On cue, the guards uncrossed their electro-staffs and parted to the sides. Confusion seemed to overtake most of the party’s faces, as the doorway slid open with ease - only to reveal a man. Clad in black armour with red and silver accents; broad shouldered, tall and visibly disdainful towards his company. He stalked wordlessly up to Palpatine’s right hand side, where he lingered - gloved hands folded in front of his hips, legs wide apart. His eyes were glowing, an amber shade to their irises, a bloodshot sclera. The man’s face was scarred, rugged; and the only visible emotions seemed to be anger and resentment. One single dark blonde curl fell over his creased forehead.

But that wasn’t the oddity. Someone in the company - Tarkin suspected it to be Yularen, judging by the tone - gasped.

Indeed, it was difficult not to recognize the young man by the Emperor's side - the Emperor, whose features had twisted into a toothy grin. The man said nothing, taller than Tarkin remembered him. Something warped and cruel and twisted distorting his rather handsome features into something unrecognizable, all charm vanquished. He was pale, peering in distaste down at the dining party as if they were beneath him. It didn’t sit right with Tarkin, given that they all knew who he was and what his past profession up until about two months ago would have been.

Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker had joined them for supper.

“May I introduce to you Lord Vader,” said Palpatine, breaking the eerie silence. “Some of you may believe you are familiar with this man. I assure you, you are mistaken. The man whom you may recall is long gone. Lord Vader has seen the error of his ways, and accepted the Jedi traitors for what they are. He came to my aid during the assassination attempt ordered by master Windu.”

Tarkin listened closely, but he was not the only one who seemed unable to tear his gaze from Skywalk-- Vader’s stern features. He looked so much older than his age, as if he had seen a million lifetimes of suffering pass him by. His hollow eyes seemed haunted, but their inherent glow was more reminiscent of a predator locked in a cage. Simply biding his time, waiting for the opportune moment to pounce. Still, he made no move and did not utter a single word.

“Lord Vader has turned out to be, much like you, one of my most trusted advisors. He is my right hand man, and while I have neglected to provide him with an official rank - he outranks every single one of you. It is my belief that only he has the means to do what needs to be done,” the Emperor continued.

Yularen seemed to shift uneasily in his seat, his eyes wide and a blunt disbelief etched into his aging features.

“You wish to speak, Colonel?”

Tarkin heard himself say; wondering if they were the only ones present - apart from the Emperor himself - who had maintained some sort of personal relationship to the man Palpatine had renamed and retooled so viciously.

“No, Governor. I--” he began, but was immediately cut off by Palpatine.

“You are wondering how the man you knew as a Jedi could turn on his own kind, is that not so? You are surprised to see that his loyalty towards the Empire could outweigh his loyalty towards his kin. Am I correct, Colonel?”

Yularen seemed to pause a bit longer than required, but gave a curt nod as he found the voice to speak up.

“Yes, Your Highness. I am merely… surprised, as you put it,” he said as a manner of surrender.

“It is understandable that you would be shocked. Should you like to speak of your own decision, Lord Vader?” the Emperor drawled, his voice menacing and sing-songy at once as he gestured to offer Vader the opportunity to speak.

“No,” the young man simply said, standing so still that his lips barely even seemed to be moving; his gleaming eyes scanning each and every person present before it landed on Tarkin - the only man who’s amusement outweighed the concerns. “I believe my actions will speak for themselves, as will your evident trust in me, my master.”

The voice was a bit deeper and gruffer than Tarkin recalled it - but that could be maturity - but its monotone quality was new. Vader spoke as if the words held no meaning to him, as if whatever he said was pointless and a waste of breath. As if his words were unbefitting of anyone but the Emperor. Yet, at the same time, he was matter of fact and to the point. A quality Tarkin had enjoyed in the past, and one he presumed Yularen had as well.

“Oh, I implore you to amuse this unspoken inquiry, Lord Vader,” Palpatine pressed, and as much as it came off as if being in good faith, it was an obvious demand no loyal servant could ignore.

“As you wish, my master,” Vader simply obeyed, his burning eyes still holding Tarkin’s in a cold, disgruntled stare. “I was the single man to commandeer the troops as they marched on the Jedi temple. I surveyed the situation, and I made sure not a single soul present escaped their fate. I am prepared to do whatever it takes to serve my Emperor, and I will not be frowned upon by the likes of you.”

The last word was delivered with such pure, unbridled loathing that it seemed to lower the temperature of the room by several degrees by proxy of mere intent. Vader nonchalantly folded his arms over his chest, lips drawn into a thin line and the perpetual scowl of his forehead had already begun to carve out fine lines in their wake. Palpatine was still sneering, grimy teeth bared in a ferocious grin.

“As you can see, Lord Vader’s conviction is admirable and undeniable. He has proved himself worthy of my trust, and so, I expect you to follow my example accordingly. I expect you to show him the reverence he requires,” the Emperor concluded, that odd glow to Vader’s eyes mirrored by his as he briefly peered up from beneath his hood - this time, it could be no trick of the light.

“I trust your infallible judgment, Your Highness,” Tarkin finally said, being the first to accept the new norm. “I may not be completely assured of Lord Vader’s motives as of yet, but he shall gain my respect when he has proved himself worthy of it.”

“My friend, you need not fear. However, I understand your concerns, and I have no doubt that you will come around quite soon,” said Palpatine, and while there was malice to the tone, he was also unusually honest and benevolent.

Tarkin suspected that was entirely on him, and their long history as colleagues and friends. He nodded, glancing over at Vader whose eyes regarded him still. Their gaze was arduous, and heavy, and vile - but that seemed to be their natural state, rather than any personal vendetta.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” was Tarkin’s only reply, and he shot a defiant glare back at Vader. “You are much too gracious.”

“Will you cease your repulsive display?” Vader snapped, and while Tarkin at first almost expected Palpatine to defend him; he found that the Emperor seemed humored enough by the obvious insult to allow the man to finish his trail of thought. “The Emperor will offer you no favours based on your fawning. You embarrass yourself, Governor.”

“Now, now, Lord Vader. I believe such childish bickering belongs elsewhere,” he finally shushed, as Vader relented like an obedient school boy fearing punishment. “However, I must agree. It would serve you well to evolve your attempts at flattery into a less… tacky matter.”

That triggered a reaction from Vader, as one corner of his lips twitched briefly upwards in a mocking, superior half smirk. He said nothing, but the triumph in those golden eyes spoke for itself.

“Now, with this out of the way, I wish to return to the matters at hand - but there is one more thing I wish to clarify. Lord Vader will not tolerate any mentions of the man you might recall him to be. He is no longer the naive child of yesterday. There will be a penalty for such insolence - no matter whom it may derive from. Lord Vader is a reinvented man. You shall address him only as such, and by no other name. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” was the singular response - and a brief hint of delight, and perhaps relief, crossed Vader’s scornful face.

“Very good,” said the Emperor with a cackle.

__________

I am not generally a fan of suitless Vader, but this idea came to me and it kinda required that so I went with it for once. Enjoy!

Ao3 link below:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029582

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mdzs-headcannons · 3 years

Note

Do you have any hc for nielan? ❤️

Oooo. NieLan! Excellent choice! (Although, with canon, beware this for some Sads.)

NieLan Head Canons

It's Nie Mingjue who makes the first move. And frankly, it's a miracle any Lans join the new generations, if all of them are as slow as Lan Xichen about their feelings.

They happily skip several eons worth of mutual pining by Nie Mingjue stealing a kiss in a secluded corner of the Cloud Recesses one day when he comes to check on Nie Huaisang's studies.

"Honestly, Huan, I'd ask for your forgiveness for being so blunt, but I'd rather get on with it before my deviations turn serious."

"Mingjue, any deviation is serious!"

It takes all of 3 hours for Nie Huaisang to figure out that something is up, and for a solid two days he and Lan Wangji work together to figure out why their oldest brothers have suddenly started behaving so oddly.

It's a good thing that the Lan family has a more secluded living area, because when Lan Wangji finally reasons Nie Huaisang into just asking, they walk around the corner to Lan Xichen's rooms and see them kissing through the window, and half the mountain would have heard Second Master Nie screaming.

Lan Qiren thinks its quite well and good that his nephew has taken to diplomacy with such enthusiasm. A good ally to have, that Nie Mingjue. Sensible and direct. And Lan Xichen always seems to be able to reason with him during conferences, which is a nice change from their respective predecessors. A good political ally, yes. *strokes beard with Respectable Lan Pride*

*Lan Wangji gives the equivalent to a major "ok boomer" eye roll in the background.*

Lan Xichen is one of the only people truly allowed to see all facets of Nie Mingjue. The large Nie leader let's him lean against his chest as they share the woes of being responsible for their clans and sects, and runs a hand through Lan Xichen's hair, weaving small braids to hide on the underside of the dark curtain.

And in turn, Lan Xichen allows him to see the truth of him as well, allowing the polite, proper smile to fall and simply be as he is not comfortable being elsewhere.

The trust that comes is well earned, and on par with no other.

*Lan Wangji and his Thousand Yard Stare at the table while his brother does Subtle Lan Flirting over the new trade negotiations with the Nie*

*Nie Huaisang contemplating splicing himself with the edge of his fan to Please Make the Torture End, Da-Ge.*

*Elder Brothers absolutely being little shits by having fun Flirting in front of the two people who absolutely know what's going on here.*

All the joy, all the peace, threaded through the loopholes in their positions, a trip for "diplomatic relations" or "a request to consult the Lan Library", build over the years. The small seed planted with a surprise kiss, watered with small affections, grows into a great tree, rooted deep into the hearts of its two caretakers.

Until it is ripped up from the roots.

Lan Xichen is not there, caught in a tangle of negotiations with the Yi clan to the West, when the anger of the sword spirit spills over and stains the halls of The Unclean Realm.

He is not there, as Nie Mingjue gasps around the last strings of his sanity, cursing a betrayal- reaching out for his brother, and a shadow dressed in blue and white.

He is not there, in the hour his beloved needs him most.

And when the news greets him at the gates, whispered to the wind by an unnaturally still Nie Huaisang cowled in white, the river of his tears carries him to the Sect Leader's rooms. He is laid in state, waiting to be put to rest in the ancestral tombs.

Lan Xichen, careless of the dust of his travels, of what another might think if they see, crawls onto the bed, and weeps into the chest that rises with breath no more.

#team da ge #team zewu jun #nielan #AAAAAAAANGST #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #cql #lan Xichen #Lan huan #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #nie brothers #nie bros #lan wangji #lan zhan

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passable-talent · 3 years

Note

So like, maybe reader gets captured or something like that and Anakin kinda loses it? I give you creative liberties since I’ve never sent a request before 👉👈 hope you are having a nice day!

congrats ahdjfjs you made it in under the wire!!

and that’s fine! I love when people bring requests to me regardless of how formatted they bring it

This mission was essential.

General Grievous was a threat to the galaxy, and he needed to be destroyed, whatever it took. So, when his location was ensured and confirmed, the Jedi Order sent three Jedi to infiltrate it. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, and (Y/N). They were to slide into the complex he was visiting, set up explosives, and detonate it, leaving no chance for escape to anyone within it.

And for the most part, everything had gone according to plan.

Every detonator was weaponized and placed. Now, they just needed to get out, and to safety, to blow it all. And General Grievous would die. That’s all you needed- for your luck to hold out just a little bit longer.

But why would it?

Why would luck favor you, the Jedi who betrayed the Code with every thought that crossed your mind? The Jedi who would leave it all behind, if asked, for one man? This man another Jedi, if things weren’t bad enough. The Force had no reason to reward you, and your blasphemy, your bitterness, your utter disregard for the code you’d been told to live by all your life. Regardless of your skill with a saber or ship, the Force refused to be kind to you.

And so it almost never was.

A routine droid patrol came across the three of you. You destroyed them as quickly as you could, having made no missteps, no errors, but they had sent up the alarm. And all was ruined.

But that was fine, it was okay, as long as- as long as you could make it out, you could blow it all, and Grievous would die, all the same. You just needed to run. Fast enough to escape, to get clear. That’s all you needed.

It was a mad dash to the exit of the complex, at a dead sprint, no heed for anything else. No discussion, no banter, no plan. Just run. You had your saber at your belt, having no need for it in the moment, keeping all of your energy for the run beside Obi-Wan. The Code wasn’t here, wasn’t to protect you in battle. Your bitterness toward the teachings you’d been given all your life was in your heart as you ran, ran as a lowly soldier for the Republic, not as a peace keeper for the galaxy.

The code, which served meditators, served the peaceful council who sat in their chairs and judged the foot soldiers, the knights who risked their lives. What other than emotion, ignorance, passion, chaos, death, existed in war? Here, there was no peace, there was no knowledge, no serenity, nor harmony. Why should the Force guide you in war?

You made no sound when you went down.

The droid hit just below your ribcage, on your right side, and your legs faltered under you. You hit the floor, adrenaline pumping through your body, and you struggled upwards as best you could. The Force never favored you, the Code never guided you.

You were caught by the ankle, and dragged back down.

“Anakin!” you screamed, trying to find purchase on the smooth tile floor as you were dragged backwards. He whirled around, now without the gates, safe beyond where the blast would reach him. His eyes met yours as you struggled, retrieved and ignited your saber, stabbing it into the floor. You thought it might give you a chance, you hoped it would stop you from being dragged back further.

“(Y/N)!” he called, and the doors began to close.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

“Blow it!” You knew that as long as you were being dragged back, Grievous would focus his attention on keeping the captured Jedi, not hunting down the other two. While you were inside, right now, Grievous was still to be killed by the explosion. “Anakin, blow it!”

And the gate shut, leaving behind only your parting words, a desperate plea for death.

Anakin looked downward at the button in his hand.

“Anakin, they told you what you need to do,” Obi-Wan said, sensing the confliction in his former padawan. Anakin knew what needed to be done, but...

But he couldn’t let you die.

“They told you to go through with the plan,” Obi-Wan insisted, “They must have known they would die, but that it would cause us to succeed. Detonate it, Anakin.”

“I can’t,” Anakin said, voice strained and hurt.

“Anakin, are you willing to lose a war to keep them alive?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice accusatory, and Anakin narrowed his eyes toward Obi-Wan.

“Yes,” he breathed, and after not an instant more launched the detonator, far away into the forest.

You were torn from your saber, but that was alright. Your side was bleeding through charred skin, and your arms were tired, and it was alright. You accepted the fiery explosion that would take your life, because you knew it would take Grievous’, too.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

You could die well, in service of the galaxy, even if it was as just a soldier. You could die, knowing that you’d take Grievous with you into the fire and the flames. At least, to Anakin, you would die a Jedi. A noble hero.

But it never came. And when your foot was finally dropped, the blunt of a weapon smashed into your temple. You were unconscious within the second.

Anakin and Obi-Wan had fled to the forest, where they would be safe- for now.

“Anakin, do you understand what you’ve done?” Obi-Wan scolded him, “The mission has not only failed, but you’ve done (Y/N) a disservice by keeping them alive in the care of Grievous.”

“I’ll get them out,” Anakin growled, his rage-filled eyes turned toward the forest floor.

“You can’t possibly go in there,” Obi-Wan said, “it’s suicide. They’ll be on high alert.”

“You said it yourself, master.” Anakin turned over his saber in his grip, voice cold. “Every moment they spend alive with Grievous is torture.”

“You’ll die if you go after them,” Obi-Wan reminded him.

“They were willing to die for us,” Anakin said, “I’m the same.”

“Anakin, we cannot afford to lose two good Jedi-”

“I can’t afford to lose them.”

There is no passion, there is serenity.

You awoke in a chair, reclined, as though your comfort had been considered by your captor. But you couldn’t move your arms nor legs, nor even your neck, and your wound hadn’t been treated. You felt it lazily sludging blood into your robes.

Grievous introduced himself by wheezing your surname.

“A fine saber,” he said, appreciating the ignited orange blade, “an excellent addition to my collection.” He had kept you from moving your arms, but done nothing about your fingers, and so you opened your hand, calling your saber to you with the Force. It ripped from his grip and flew to yours, and so you gave him a triumphant, cocky smile.

Grievous growled, and brought the back of his metal hand across your right cheekbone. The metal cut through your flesh like gelatin.

Tears immediately came to your eyes, and you felt the blood begin to roll down your jaw, but you turned your gaze back to him without a word.

“It seems you aren’t interested in a discussion of weapons,” Grievous said, grabbing your saber from your hand again, “So I’ll move on. You’re going to tell me all about where your little Jedi friends are hiding.”

As if he thought you’d be so easy.

Most of the security of the base was either on its exterior, thanks to the two Jedi that had disappeared into the forest, or within it, thanks to the Jedi at Grievous’ disposal. That meant that there were droids in every single place Anakin wanted to be, and as such there were to be plenty of things in his way. But Anakin Skywalker had never been one to balk at obstacles.

Obi-Wan let him go, to attempt to retrieve you, finally admitting that if he could save you, it would do good for the galaxy. He was still silently angered that Anakin hadn’t blown the base, but he would save that lecture for another day. Something about ‘respecting the wishes of a dying Jedi’. Such a lecture was burned deep into his heart.

Obi-Wan offered only a bit of help, providing a distraction on the north end of the complex so that attention would be drawn from the South. Anakin made it past the first wall, and once he had, there wasn’t much left to go, until he reached the droid army that would have no doubt amassed around you, keeping you prisoner. He knew you were wounded, and that you may not be much help- still, he was determined to get you out, no matter what it took.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

Eventually, you pissed Grievous off so much that he was finished with you. You were still useful to him, so he couldn’t kill you, but how he wanted to. He took you by the throat, dragging you from the room. You gripped at his hand at your throat, his metal fingers digging and pinching and cutting the thin skin of your neck, and you tried to kick from his grip, to no success.

“You are an irritating slime,” Grievous told you, voice hoarse as always, and tossed you by the neck into a cell. Its door closed before you even hit the floor.

Which was good- it saved you embarrassment. You tried to catch yourself, but the door being up three stairs from the floor, and you fell further than you expected. You’d managed to plant your foot straight down, but too much weight came down upon your left leg. As though time had slowed down, you felt your mistake, and as your body was still twisting through the air, you felt it when your femur came down upon your knee, and when it found resistance, it slipped to the side, twisting, while your tibia remained where it was.

The pain was immediate. As was your collapse to the floor.

Where luck had been against him from the moment he placed the last explosive, Anakin had finally run into a stroke of good luck. Grievous was nowhere to be seen when Anakin located the wing that you must’ve been- a cell door, shut and sealed, surrounded by a dozen droids.

Easy.

Anger wasn’t meant to be the way of the Jedi, Anakin knew that. But he had disobeyed the code plenty of times before, and now, he would do it again. He didn’t need to curb himself- his rage, in this instant, was his focus, drawing him toward his singular goal.

Not a single droid managed to fire a single shot.

One well-placed swipe of the saber and the door swung open.

You were laying on your back on the floor, trying to ride out your pain.

The door opened on your left, and for an instant you weren’t sure if this was fantasy, or reality- Anakin Skywalker, your guardian angel, here to rescue you.

“Anakin?” You breathed, and as he stepped through the door you decided that he must be real. He had to be. So you threw your left leg over your right, rolling onto your stomach to begin the process of standing. It threw the whole world out of balance, your dizziness and blood loss starting to affect you.

There is no death, there is the Force.

Only when you were on your knees did you reveal to Anakin your right side- its bloody wound from droid fire, its deep cuts along your cheek and neck, and the large, smudged print of blood your wet robes left on the floor. He rushed forward to you, gently helping you to your feet, and immediately he noticed how you lifted your left foot from the floor.

“I’ve got you,” he said, pulling your left arm over his shoulder so that your injured leg hung between you. His words were a promise, more than a statement- that you would escape, that he would make sure of it. He started toward the door, and you tried to assist him, but with every step his fingers, meant to hold you up by gripping your right side, dug into the skin nearby your wound. You couldn’t see, with all the blood and sweat in your eyes, now blurring anew with tears.

“Anakin,” you said again, trying to say any number of things- ‘I’m sorry’, ‘leave me behind’, ‘thank you’. But your voice failed you, and you just left your jaw hang slack with grunts of pain and panting breath, every ounce of your focus taken by limping toward the exit.

Until a single thought entered your mind.

“My saber,” you groaned, pulling from his grip when he tried to continue. “I need to find my saber.”

“(Y/N), we don’t have time,” Anakin said, trying to gather you toward the gate again, but you resisted with a shake of your head, eyes dulled but focused.

“It might still be- I have to find it.” If you had any control, over anything in the galaxy, it was yourself. You could control your own fate, your own decisions, your body. Sheer will invaded your mind and so your limbs, flooding you with adrenaline, and so you took off, leaving him no choice but to follow. You learned quickly how to run on your injured leg, numbed yet weak as it was- as long as only your toes struck the floor, and not your heel, your knee didn’t force you to the ground.

And finally, some good luck came your way.

Grievous had left your saber in the room you had awoken in. Relief hitting you like a wall, you strapped it to your waist, but with that relief came a crash of your adrenaline, and suddenly you couldn’t even stand. Anakin caught you before you hit the floor, and tried to guide you again, but your feeble steps turned into toes dragging on the floor behind his footfalls. Soon he conceded and pulled your arms over his shoulders, and ordered you- ‘hold on’.

Your grip was loose around his neck, but you managed not to slip off.

You were bloodied, and bruised, and your knee didn’t quite work. The 2-1B droid aboard Obi-Wan’s ship called it a hyperextension- a stretching of your ligaments. And the cuts were deep, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed, even if red lines would accent your neck and face for quite a while.

And Anakin didn’t leave your side, even as Obi-Wan insisted you just needed to sleep.

A lifetime ago, before the Clone Wars, before you’d even had a light saber, you were taught a different code. One that, you could see now, was meant to ease children into the absolute, the black and white, that they weren’t yet ready for.

It was this code that you felt still held true. You were barely a knight, barely even an adult, fighting a war for politicians who would never see the pain it caused. You fought it beside the true love of your life, the one thing you would die without, die for, and you felt his heartbreak when he looked upon your blood, and your heart broke the same each time you heard his pain.

Emotion, yet peace.

You would do anything for Anakin Skywalker. You would fight a nonsense war you didn’t believe in, if it meant you could do it at his side.

Ignorance, yet knowledge.

You knew not what truly guided this war, and it meant nothing to you. You knew what you needed to know, for the time being.

Passion, yet serenity.

Anakin was half asleep at your feet, the couch just long enough that while you laid lengthwise, he could curl up in the final bit of space. You would do anything for him, anything, you’d follow him to the end of the universe. You loved him more than you could describe, more than there were words in all the languages of the galaxy, more than there were stars in hyperspace. You only hoped he knew it.

Chaos, yet harmony.

Nothing was black and white- only a Sith deals in absolutes, and you were a Jedi. There was no harmony without chaos, and if it hadn’t been for everything going wrong, then you wouldn’t have been able to illustrate to Anakin, and him to you, the way that each would die for the other. Grievous lives to fight another day, but so do you.

Death, yet the Force.

And each day, you wake up, when the odds tell you you should have died long ago. You wake up, and have the honor of seeing and loving Anakin Skywalker, and feeling his love just the same. You wake up knowing that even though this war would one day fall into the history books and someday be the one question a youngling can’t answer on their history exams, you were calmed with the knowledge that you were on the right side of it. You had been brought to Coruscant, to fight for the light, to believe in it, to love it.

Maybe the Force was with you, after all.

-🦌 Roe

#reader insert #angst #imagines #anakin x jedi reader #anakin skywalker x jedi reader #anakin x reader insert #star wars anakin #anakin imagine #poor anakin #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars self insert #star wars #star wars prequels #fics

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rosaliepostsstuff · 3 years

Text

Chapter 10 - Of convenient interruptions and deceiving magpies

series masterlist

warnings: angst, mention of food and eating

word count: 2856

tags: @gloryekaterina ; @thatguppienamedbae ; @sagittarius-flowerchild ; @scoobiessnacks ; @pandaxnienke ; @harrysweasleys ; @ickle-ronniekins ; @hufflepuff5972 ; @izzyyy-1 ; @amourtentiaa ; @thisismynerdyself ; @hufflepuffalice ; @pxroxide-prinxcesss ; @lumos-barnes ; @weasleygrapes ; @famdomhideout ; @mollenniumfalcon ; @accioweaslcy ; @whizboyhalo ;

—————⑩—————

January rolled around, bringing the new term with it. With a few months left until the N.E.W.T.s, the professors were nagging the seventh years only ever so slightly more.

So you settled back into your routine – classes, studying with occasional breaks to hang out with your mates. Schoolwork-free evenings spent in the common room or the D.A. meetings that resumed after winter break – those were your treats.

In one of your attempts to socialize whilst getting some revising done, you found yourself sitting by one of the more secluded tables in the library, as to avoid getting on Madam Pince’s nerves too much, with Hermione, Ginny and – Loony Lovegood.

The girl was alright, apart from being blunt and not adhering to some social norms in situations where it really couldn’t hurt – you thought. But there was just something about her that made you uneasy when she was around…

To be fair, you hardly ever studied during those studying sessions with Ginny and Hermione. And today was not that bad – your chat was pretty ‘normal’, Ginny was complaining about her boyfriend – Michael’s recent behaviour.

“Why do I even bother with guys anymore..?” she asked rhetorically, lying down on the table, on top of forgotten books and untouched parchment. “That’s a bit dramatic,” Hermione chuckled sympathetically. “Yeah, yeah… but look at Y/N, she doesn’t care about stupid boys and she’s doing just fine,” Ginny commented and you involuntarily let out a loud, high-pitched laugh, thinking about how fine you were doing, making all of them look at you.

You instantly composed yourself, clearing your throat – they didn’t know. Or at least that’s what you thought.

Luna appeared to be intrigued, Ginny was clearly confused and looked at you with amusement, but Hermione – she had a meaningful look about her and you wouldn’t be surprised, she was good at observing people – she knew.

“Oh no,” you let out as you looked at her and your face fell. It was awkward. “You know.” “I don’t know,” she countered very quickly. “Oh, I think you do-“

“Wait, wait, wait, what’s going on,” Ginny followed rapidly, the words melting into one. Hermione looked down onto the table, unsure what to do and you felt your insides turn. You had not prepared yourself mentally for Ginny to know yet – you just had a bad feeling she wouldn’t like the fact that you fancy one of her brothers. Over the years she had mentioned on multiple occasions how she likes you being Fred and George’s mate.

It’s over – you though – cat’s out of the bag. You glanced at Luna, trying to estimate just how uncomfortable confessing in her presence would make you.

“Y/N’s in love with George..!” Hermione blurted out, covering her mouth right after. “I’m sorry, I can’t deal with situations like that!” she hasted to explain herself when you glared at her accusingly.

“Ginny’s brother?” Luna asked airily.

“Aaaaw…” Ginny moaned in disappointment as if she just dropped a scoop of ice-cream. Though her facial expression was mixed, a grimace with a small smile.

You smiled at her awkwardly and shrugged, but no one said anything else.

You sat in this awkward silence as Ginny watched you with the same, unreadable expression. Luna got back to reading her book, and Hermione pretended to, while biting her lips harshly. You didn’t know where to look, or if you should say something else. When no words seemed fitting, you just fiddled with your fingers and the edge of your notebook page.

“Alright, that’s… that’s good, actually. I prefer for you to date him than anyone else. I wouldn’t want him to end up with some bimbo,” Ginny announced after what seemed like hours, with fake seriousness on her face, then smiled at you cheekily.

“Thanks, Gin,” you breathed out, the word ‘date’ echoing in your mind. Dating seemed so, so remote to you at that very moment. You were glad not to have had added more obstacles to your already tricky path, though.

After leaving the library you made your way to the Great Hall and parted ways. Without much thought, you took an empty spot next to George. You shot him a small smile as a greeting, but he looked distracted. He didn’t talk to you – he wasn’t even talking to Fred, who was discussing the future of the new Gryffindor quidditch team on his other side.

You got a bit worried, nevertheless, you were hoping you were just exaggerating - maybe he was tired. And if anything was actually wrong, he’d tell you when he’d feel ready.

“Pumpkin juice?” you asked, hovering the pitcher above his empty goblet. He nodded, then thanked you when you poured him the juice.

Throughout the meal, you tried to make a conversation, ask about his day and tell him about yours. Whatever his behaviour was, it probably had nothing to do with you, because he spoke normally and wasn’t shutting you down.

When you left the hall, the crowd seemed especially dense, you and George got separated from Fred and Lee and you noticed that when you walked an empty corridor on your way to the common room.

You were close to your destination, you could see the Fat Lady in the distance when George stopped hesitantly. He had his hands in his pockets and he looked around, anywhere but at you. This unusual behaviour made you uneasy.

When he finally looked at you, he spoke, “Y/N,” then crossed his arms on his chest, then turned his eyes back towards the stone floor. “…I’ve been meaning to ask you something, when we’re alone, for a while…” he continued, making your blood run cold. “…What is it?” you asked, doing your best to sound normal.

“You know, you’ve been… you’ve been behaving a bit-“ he bit his lip, looking for the right word, “differently, lately.”

You swallowed thickly, your hands started to tingle and your mind was going a hundred miles per hour. There were countless possibilities as to why he could be asking that question, was it the one you were expecting the most? The one that would expose you?

“Have I?” you continued your act, failing miserably. You couldn’t read the expression on his face. It was not warm or cheerful like you were most used to, but it wasn’t cold or accusing either. You were at a loss, trying to decipher what was going through his mind.

“Yeah, for some time now,” he answered, nodding slowly.

This did not give you any more information you needed desperately to play this right. You were thinking hard about what to say next, when the portrait of the Fat Lady opened, revealing Lee.

Upon noticing the two of you, Lee beamed right away, clearly not having read into the situation.

“Oi, have you seen what’s happening in the entrance courtyard right now?!” he shouted. “No, why?” George replied, not matching Lee’s enthusiasm. “Come on, everyone’s gathering there!!”

Lee’s appearance cut the topic off completely. The air between the two of you was awkward for the rest of the day but neither one mentioned it again. And the next day, it was like the conversation never happened.

At least formally – it has planted even more questions into your mind.

—————⑩—————

“Just remember, the memory must really be powerful and you have to focus!” Harry explained to the group standing in front of him.

You stood next to him, a bit to the side – he asked you to help out with the teaching side a bit that evening, seeing as you’d be working on Patronuses – a spell you had mastered a couple of years before.

“Could we see it again?” asked Colin Creevey, hoping Harry would show off his own Patronus once more. Harry turned to you instead, “Y/N..?” – waking you up.

Put on the spot, you felt a rush of nerves but tried to push them back. You took a deep breath and recalled your go-to memory of a sunny day, three years prior, when George came along with you on a weekend trip to your grandparents across the country.

You woke up with a rush of adrenaline that day. At the breakfast table you kept glancing at the clock on the wall, dreading that no matter how fast you’d finish your toast, you couldn’t be there to pick up George earlier than 8 AM.

It felt weird to depart without Fred, but you couldn’t have expected him to turn his aunt Muriel’s bag invisible, resulting in him being grounded. You didn’t want to be glad he wasn’t there, but the trip with just you and George was something truly unforgettable.

While your grandparents’ place wasn’t anything extraordinary in itself, unlike at your home at the Burrow, the two of you were left to your own device.

Just you, George, sunny weather and the call of adventure.

The memory’s energy filled you to the brim, with full confidence you said “Expecto Patronum!”, excited to see the familiar shape of a feisty wivern.

What you saw when you looked up shocked you – a small bird fluttering its wings above everyone’s heads. Your mouth fell open slightly as you stared at it, the bird perched itself on one of the bookshelves on the side of the room.

The group didn’t notice your shock however, they didn’t know your Patronus’ form, they were in awe of the small animal’s beauty. Everyone – except for two people you had shown your Patronus before.

Of course, you showed off to Fred and George almost right after learning that spell. Which is exactly why they both looked puzzled as well.

“Alright, I think we can get to practice now!” exclaimed Harry, the group scurried and the bird turned into mist, then disappeared.

You tried your best not to dwell on that mystery just yet, but actually try helping others out. Which is why you didn’t stick around Fred and George for too long, afraid that one of them might want to discuss it.

That was until, after many tries, close to the end of the meeting, after succeeding in making a shield form - George’s corporeal Patronus appeared. It was incredible.

“A magpie…” you whispered to yourself underneath your breath, covering your mouth with your hand. A magpie, just like yours, flying in circles above Fred and George.

George stared at it in shock, at a loss of words at first, then a relieved smile started to show on his face.

But then Fred, in a rush of excitement, succeeded as well - his Patronus appearing as a magpie, too.

George’s face fell, and his bird vanished. But you weren’t paying attention anymore.

On your way back to the common room you stuck to Fred, George and Lee, mostly because it was just a custom. The atmosphere was strange the whole way.

You felt tense, you avoided looking at George, afraid it might prompt him to speak to you. You were sure he had figured it all out by now, and you did not want to hear the words of rejection.

After all – if he had felt the same, surely he would’ve reacted more strongly, come up to you right away and confess too – daydreams.

Instead, he was walking a distance from you with a stone face, his hands in his pockets. Fred was walking in the middle, dividing you two – a casual, content expression on his face.

When you got into the common room, most of the D.A. members went upstairs to their respective dorms. You didn’t miss how George sped up in front f Fred and went up - two steps at a time. You collapsed on the sofa, not seeing the point of going about your day at that very moment. You felt crushed.

Just as the last students were leaving, Fred came back downstairs, on his own this time. He was just looking for something to do when he saw you.

He made himself comfortable in the armchair directly opposite you and looked at you expectantly with a smirk.

“You’re alone?” you asked quietly, thinking it was the least invasive way to ask for the information you truly wanted. Fred understood. “I don’t know what his deal is, he doesn’t seem to want to talk to me,” he answered simply. “He’ll sort himself out.”

When you didn’t say anything for a few seconds more, he took it upon himself.

“Soo – you wanna tell me what that was about?” Fred asked the question you expected from the very start. If you were him, you’d probably have asked too, out of sheer curiosity. You took a moment to think, but he was impatient – “the whole Patronus thing – as far as I know, it doesn’t just change on a whim… and a very interesting new form, indeed,” he got to the bottom of the case.

You wanted to tell Fred, you really did. You saw no point in denying it and just making yourself look stupid. He was your friend after all, and even though you had not thought about it, you have gotten even closer lately. Maybe partly because of how things with George changed, or maybe because you’ve all grown.

Fred truly felt like a brother, even if he could be a major prat, he was actually more like a brother to you than George ever was.

The only problem for you was how impartial would he remain? The last thing you wanted was anyone meddling with the situation between you and George – even his twin brother. And it would be hard for Fred not to, but you’d just have to trust him to see what’s right.

“Alright, but you have to promise me something. Everything stays between us, and whatever you do – don’t interfere, please.”

Fred sighed and his smirk got replaced with a kind smile. He got up and sat next to you on the sofa, laying his arm on the backrest. “Alright, promise. I’m listening.”

But where should you start? It felt weird all of a sudden, you’d never discussed your love life with Fred, and admitting to being in love with his brother felt even stranger.

You decided to start as simply as possible.

“I don’t really get it either. You know George and I have been close since we met, I’ve always loved him as a friend, and really didn’t see him that way before…” you spoke as quiet as possible, knowing how the sound could travel in the silence of the common room. You avoided looking at Fred and played with your hands in your lap, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, continuing – “A while ago, sometime in November, it… just changed.”

Fred hasn’t replied right away, and you kept your face down. “I love him,” you whispered, bowing your head even lower to hide your face. “Idiotically much.”

When you finally looked up, Fred was leaning his chin on his arm, on the back of the sofa, thinking.

“And how have you not told him yet?” he asked after a few seconds. “It’s not that simple. And I had a lot to figure out.” “I know, but I don’t get how you can spend so much time with someone you fancy and not snap- and just tell them,” he reasoned, looking at you. It actually made you quite happy - that meant you got to the Fred you wanted, he wasn’t judging you or wanted to tease you, but was trying to really understand and have a conversation. “Maybe…” you mumbled. “And if you’re wondering if I’m gonna tell you he’s in love with you too in a second, then I can tell you right away, that I don’t know. We don’t really talk about stuff like that.” “Better that way,” you pointed out, “I really prefer you impartial.” “Impartial’s a bit much-“ “Regardless, I don’t think he does,” you admitted, seriously. “He said a few days ago that he noticed me acting differently and the whole thing was really strange, but we never spoke about it again. And now today – there is no way he hasn’t figured it out and you saw how he’s acting… He’s probably upset right now because he doesn’t feel the same and knows we can’t be friends like before.”

There was another moment of silence and Fred was about to say something, when the two of you heard a door close loudly in one of the staircases, then a pair of footsteps travelling down from the boys’ dorms.

You automatically turned that way to look and saw George step in, with a neutral expression. He looked at the sofa, then quickly looked around the otherwise empty common room. He glanced at his feet for a second and in the semi-darkness, it looked like he scoffed, then back at you and Fred, with a look in his eye you’ve never seen before. It was hurt.

“Done brooding?” Fred asked, probably as an attempt to lighten the mood, but George turned around without a word and stormed back up.

“He hates me,” you whispered, mostly to yourself, feeling tears reaching your eyes, and your whole world falling apart around you.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley series

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thatfanficstuff · 4 years

Text

Impossible - 10

Pairing: Eric Northman x Reader

Warnings: Nope

A/N: this is a bit of a filler chapter. Necessary though. Enjoy!

***

You sighed and glanced around. It appeared that everyone else had cleared out leaving the two of you alone. That didn’t mean someone hadn’t lingered, however. “I think we should have this conversation on the way home.”

Eric looked you over for a moment before nodding once. He took your hand in his to lead you to the car. When he opened the passenger side door for you, you stepped back. “I should probably drive.”

His brow furrowed but he handed over the keys just the same.

It wasn’t until you were halfway home that you spoke. “I don’t know my real parents. No one does. I’ve only been told that I was found in the company of a homeless woman who was not my mother. The man I call my father realized I was something other than human and took me in. Regardless of his inability to discover my origins, he raised me and loved me as his own.”

“You’ve told me this.”

You glanced in Eric’s direction and gave him a small smile. “Have I? I couldn’t remember. I don’t talk about my past or my family often. It’s too much of a risk.” Your attention turned back to the road and you took a deep breath. “My father is Roman Zimojic.”

Silence stretched for a long moment until Eric finally broke it. “Your father is the Guardian?”

You made a sound of agreement.

“You were raised by the head of the Authority?” His voice was tight, strained.

“I realize we should have had this discussion prior to me accepting your claim as mate. If you want to back out, I would understand.” It pained you to say the words, but you understood that Eric might see you differently now. There was a reason you didn’t tell people who your father was. Beyond the safety issues involved, the few people who did know always treated you differently after they found out. You just wanted to live your life without always being in Roman’s shadow.

“Pull over,” Eric instructed.

You bit your lip to keep from questioning him and did as he asked.

He was out of the car and had your door open before you even turned the car off. “Get out.”

You got out and stepped to the side so he could shut the door. You kept your head down, afraid of what you’d see if you looked at him. After a moment, he lifted your chin so he could see your face.

“Look at me,” he said when you refused to meet his eye.

You sighed and met his gaze. He gave you a soft smile. “Your father has nothing to do with my feelings for you. I love you. You are my mate. The in-laws will simply be a bit more interesting than I had anticipated.”

His lips pressed against yours and you looped your arms around his neck as you fell into his kiss. Stress and worry faded away. This man continued to surprise you at every turn and you were oh so grateful for it.

He pulled away and rested his forehead on yours. “Let’s go home.” You nodded and he kissed your head. “I’ll drive us. You have a phone call to make.”

“Don’t remind me.” You got into the car on the other side.

Once you’d buckled in, Eric turned to face you. “Do you fear to tell him about us?”

You laughed. “Eric, he may be the Guardian but when it comes to me, he is first and foremost a father. No father is ecstatic to hear his daughter in love. It may be inevitable but it’s a conversation he’d like to hold off as long as possible.”

Eric smiled and started the car. Once you were back on the road he said, “Fair enough, I suppose.”

“I’ve already told him about you. Before.”

He glanced over in surprise. “You did?”

“Losing you was the catalyst to me leaving my work for the Authority. It cost too much.” You glanced out the window at the darkness. “We had a horrible fight.”

“You quit because of me?”

“In a manner of speaking. I quit because my heart was broken. It was time for a change.” You looked at him, studying his profile while he drove. “He understood that eventually. Me agreeing to work for them on occasion helped. I can be a lot choosier than I used to be though. Honestly it works better for everyone. Even if he won’t admit it. He’s stubborn, especially when it comes to me.”

The corner of his mouth curled up as he shot a glance in your direction. “Sounds like we have a lot in common.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, I’m sure you two will have many conversations about what a handful I am.” You pulled out your phone and called your father.

The phone only rang once before it was answered. “Hello, sweetheart.”

“Hey, Pop. I’m going to put you on speaker so we can all talk.” You laid the phone in your lap.

“And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” You picked up the trace of annoyance in his voice but doubted Eric did. Your father was a master of hiding his emotions if he chose.

“Eric Northman, sir.”

“Ah, Mr. Northman. I have heard much about you. Both from my daughter and others.”

Eric shot you a glance.

“I thought I told you to leave him be,” you said, your own annoyance on full display.

“And I have. But you can’t honestly expect me not to investigate the man you’re dating. Just a simple background. No more. No less.”

You sighed but knew it wouldn’t do any good to argue. Besides, it was already done. There was no sense in getting angry about it now. You were used to your father overreaching. “You’re right. I should have known better.”

He made a sound of agreement. “Now, why are you calling?”

“I have claimed Y/N as my mate and she has accepted that claim.”

Silence was the only answer.

“Dad?”

“I’m here. Just…This wasn’t the conversation I was expecting.”

“I love him.”

“To be blunt, it’s not your feelings that I question, sweetheart.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Eric’s hand on your leg stopped you.

“I have lived over 1000 years. Never before have I even considered claiming a mate. I would give up everything for her.”

“And before you make your next argument, he didn’t know who you were until tonight.”

“There are still some matters to discuss. Perhaps you should call me later when you’re on your own, Y/N.” Your father may have worded it as a suggestion but you knew it was anything but.

“To be blunt, sir, this isn’t up for debate. We are simply notifying you of a decision that has already been made.”

Your brows shot up. It wasn’t often anyone other than you spoke to your father with anything less than absolute deference.

Your father’s response was immediate. “You are aware of what I could do to you with little more than a twitch of my finger?”

“I am.”

It took you a moment to realize that your father was laughing. You smiled at the sound. “You have my blessing, Y/N. I do wish to meet him properly soon.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Of course. Love you.”

“I love you, too. And congratulations.”

You hung up and put your phone away. “How did you know he’d react that way?” you asked.

“I didn’t, but I was not about to allow him to separate us. It was important he understood that, Authority or not.”

“Well, you’re either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. At least I don’t have to question my importance to you after that. Not that I did anyway.” You shook your head in disbelief. “Try not to piss him off too much. I kind of like having you around.”

Before he could respond, your phone rang. A glance at the screen showed Sookie’s name. “Hey, Sookie,” you answered.

“Have you seen Bill?” Her voice was shaky.

“Earlier, yeah.” You glanced at Eric who only shook his head. “I doubt he’ll be home for a few days. He has some business to tend to.”

“He could have called,” she complained.

“He may not have had the opportunity. The business was unexpected.” Why you were telling her this you had no idea. You’d be thrilled if she just decided Bill was a dick and never had anything else to do with him. You didn’t want her taking his absence personally, however. It wasn’t her fault.

“I need…” She huffed a breath. “Can you come stay with me for a couple of days?”

“What’s going on, Sook?”

“The killer attacked me at Merlotte’s tonight. I got away obviously, but I’d sure feel better if you came to visit.” Your heart ached at the thought that you’d almost lost your friend.

“Do you have someone that can stay with you tonight?”

“Yeah, Sam brought me home. He’ll stay.”

“I’ll have to get some things together before I can come. I’ll head over in the morning, okay?” You ignored Eric’s hands tightening on the wheel.

“That would be great, Y/N/N. Thank you.”

You said your goodbyes and put the phone away. “Don’t bother, Eric,” you said when he looked at you. “She’s my friend and she’s in danger.”

“I could send Bill back to her,” he offered after a pause.

“That’s up to you. Won’t keep me from going to Bon Temps in the morning though.”

“Why must you be so stubborn?”

You didn’t answer. Odds were he wasn’t really expecting one anyway.

“Is it necessary for you to continuously put yourself at risk for others?”

“No, but I’m not going to stop either. You might as well get used to it.” You patted his thigh. “You don’t have to worry about me, Eric. I’ll be fine, but I’ll text regular updates if it makes you feel better.”

“See that you do. I’ll not hesitate to burn that little town to the ground if I must to find you.”

You rolled your eyes. He was always so dramatic. “No burning, Viking. No pillaging either while I’m thinking of it.”

He grinned. “You really have no sense of fun, Y/N.”

“If you’d hurry up and get us home, we could have all sorts of fun before I head to Bon Temps.”

The press of his foot against the accelerator was his only response.

#eric northman x reader #true blood fanfiction #eric northman fanfiction #series #impossible

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srhlsx · 3 years

Text

master | chapter 2 | CHAPTER 3 | chapter 4

warnings: none

Waking up in a bed that was not familiar to you, you had to take a few moments to stretch your back and neck and work out the kinks that had formed over night. A loud groan erupted from your chest, the pleasure of stretching making your eyes roll in the back of your head as you let your body wake up more. Sitting up, the soft covers slipped down your body and bunched in your lap revealing your typical nightgown.

The sound of a throat clearing across the room made your eyes blink open, your gaze shifting to see a tall figure seated lazily on a couch. His hair looked disheveled but he was dressed neatly in a pair of cropped black dress pants with a white button up tucked into the waistband. He was handsome, no one could deny that, but he averted his gaze away from your figure as he covered his mouth with a fist as he coughed.

“Well, good morning.” You greeted, a slight smirk forming on your face from the surprise of seeing him there. You took note of the folded blanket and pillow resting on the opposite end of the couch from him, your thoughts connecting. “You didn’t seriously sleep there last night, did you?”

“I didn’t think you’d appreciate a stranger crawling into bed with you,” He seemed to finally find his nerve and turned to face you as he spoke. “Especially in the middle of the night.”

“When you hadn’t come up by midnight I kind of gave up on you coming to bed at all,” You said. “Your mother made it seem like you knew I’d be staying in your room with you.”

“She’s not my mother.” He was quick to correct. “And I did know, I just got caught up with a few things.”

“Mhmm,” You hummed, lips pursing together in thought. There was something deeper going on there but you definitely didn’t think it was your place to explore - yet. “Anyways, I’m (Y/n).”

You crawled forward to the edge of the bed, extending your hand out in his direction. He hesitated a moment, face contorting into an expression of almost amusement as he lifted himself up to his feet and took a few large steps towards you. His hand completely enveloped yours as he took it in his grasp, long fingers wrapping around your own and giving it a shake. “Kuroo,” He said, then continuing with a shrug. “Or Tetsurō, whatever you want since we’re getting married.”

“That we are,” You nodded, giving him a small smile and raising an eyebrow. After a moment you sat back on the bed, Kuroo tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants casually as he looked down at you. The muscles in his arms strained against the fabric of his shirt as Kuroo shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “So, what now?”

“Have you toured the grounds yet?” Kuroo asked. You shook your head no and he nodded in response. “Your new guard can show you around. He’s waiting outside, I’ll introduce you whenever you are ready.”

“You won’t be the one to show me around?” You asked, the tone of your voice having a blunt edge to it. You narrowed your eyes slightly, shoulders slumping as you realized he was probably trying to get away as soon as possible.

“I have a few other obligations already,” He said, eyes shifting away from your gaze. “But I’ve arranged for our dinner to be served here tonight so I’ll meet back up with you then.”

You nodded your head and Kuroo noted the sour look forming on your face, but it wasn’t like there was much he could do to change it now. “Right. Dinner.” You said, getting out of bed to pad over to the bathroom to start getting ready - not bothering to adjust how your nightgown had become skewed. “Well, you can go. I can take care of myself.”

Kuroo didn’t doubt that. He had heard plenty about the princess from Chubu and as you shut the door to the bathroom behind you he knew he hadn’t made the greatest of first impressions. Kuroo cursed to himself under his breath, hesitating for a moment, wondering if he should apologize to you but thinking better of it as he heard the shower start.

“She’s getting ready,” He mumbled to the guard standing outside the bedroom door. The wide-eyed guard nodded in understanding, his silent demeanor no surprise to the prince. “Just show her around, make sure no one bothers her too much.”

“Yes, your highness.”

You had gotten word halfway through your tour of the castle that the Queen had requested your presence. You were just about to sit down for lunch when a messenger came into the dining area, making you pause and glance over at your guard - Fukunaga - who you had introduced yourself to earlier that morning. He didn’t react other than blinking slowly, which in your mind was all you needed to know about the ‘spur of the moment’ timing of the Queen.

You followed the messenger to the far end of the west wing of the castle, Fukunaga following a few steps behind. He told you he would wait for you outside the double doors you were being ushered through, revealing not only the Queen but Alisa and a gaggle of other women as well.

“(Y/n),” You were greeted by the soft smile of the Queen as she motioned with her hands for you to step forward. “I’m sorry this is so sudden, but I thought we would want to get preparations started as soon as possible.”

You followed her gaze to a small pedestal where a woman with measuring tape was waiting. Chewing at the inside of your cheek, you ignored the growling of your stomach and nodded your head. You were sure it was no coincidence that the Queen had wanted to interrupt your meal for you to get measured.

“It’s tradition for the groom to pick the bride’s dress in Kanto weddings,” She smiled as you stepped up to the platform, letting your limbs be pulled in all directions as the women around you helped you undress. The Queen gave you a not-so-subtle glance from top to bottom, eyeing the light and colorful clothing you had chosen to wear that day. “Although for us it might be for the best, since you don’t quite dress the way we do here.��

“Dark clothes aren’t typically in fashion back home, your majesty.” You responded, sucking in a breath as the cold hands of the seamstress began taking your measurements. “It’ll take some time to get used to the change.”

“Yes, yes.” She waved off your concern, motioning for one of the women in her group waiting off to the side to step forward and begin taking notes. “Now that we have your measurements, we can start adjusting your wardrobe as well.”

“I’d like to keep some color,” You spoke to the girl taking notes, her eyes shifting between you and the Queen a few times, like she was making sure what you were saying was okay. “I’m still going to be queen of Chubu, I’d like to keep that identity.”

“Of course.” The queen refrained from clipping her words too much, opting instead to flash a closed-eye smile at you with her hands clasped in front of her. “Well, I must get going, I just wanted to make sure you were taken care of here.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” You bowed as best you could while still being pulled and pinched by the seamstress.

You watched as the Queen and her group of followers left the room, waiting until you were sure the doors were shut before turning to Alisa with wide eyes. You grabbed at her arm, making her stutter back in surprise and turn to you with concern.

“Your highness?”

“Food,” You practically gasped. “Please, ask Fukunaga to get me some food.”

Alisa let out a loud sigh of relief, surely thinking you were going to snap at her about something else. She was glad to see that you were just hungry and unafraid to ask for food. “Right away, your highness.”

“Also,” You stopped her right as she had turned away. She turned around quickly, eyes wide wondering what else you might need. “(Y/n) is fine.”

Her smile lit up her face as she nodded, turning back around to the door and leaving you to the mercy of the seamstress once again.

“Tell me about your mother.”

Kuroo paused his chewing and looked at you sideways without quite turning his head. After a beat, his mouth started moving again and he swallowed before speaking up. “What do you mean?”

You gestured vaguely in the air to encourage him to talk. “Your mother, the first queen.” You said. “This morning you told me the queen is not your mother, but she’s been married to your father for, what? About fifteen years now. She’s really the only queen the country knows much about.”

Kuroo nodded thoughtfully, thinking to himself how he wanted to answer your questions. It wasn’t often that people asked about his birth mother since she had died some twenty-plus years ago when he was just a child. While his father’s second wife certainly helped raise Kuroo, there was always that underlying feeling of a connection never being made.

“I don’t remember much,” Kuroo said. “But I know I look like her.”

You sat back and studied the man before you, his features and the way he moved. The two of you were sitting on opposite couches in your living quarters, the low table with an exquisite spread of food before you serving almost as a barrier between the two of you. He seemed to not want to make much eye contact with you, which was a little surprising. The confident persona he created towards the general public had disappeared behind closed doors.

“I’m sure it’s been hard,” You said as you continued to watch him. “My mother has been sick my entire life, so I guess in a sense I can understand.”

“I’m not looking for pity.” He said, glancing towards you from the corner of his sharp eyes. “I barely knew her.”

“Ah yes, there he is.” You nodded with a knowing smirk, leaning back against the plush cushion of the couch. “The strong prince, hardened by the tragedy of his past.”

“Talk about hardened by tragedy,” Kuroo gave you a look, nodding in your direction before taking a sip of his drink. “I believe you wrote the book.”

You continued to smirk at him, appreciating the way he finally seemed to drop the proper act and talk to you. “Just one chapter,” You replied smartly, making the corner of his lips twitch ever so slightly upwards. “Well anyways, I suppose it’s for the best that two people like us get married.”

“Why do you say that?” Kuroo looked at you, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hands folded together as he eyed you.

“We’re both obviously miserable, no thanks to our families of course.” You shrugged. “And as they say, misery loves company.”

A pause, breath hanging in the air between the two of you, before Kuroo spoke up - his eyes narrowed and studied you closely. “Are you really so miserable, Princess?” He asked.

“Are you offering to fix that, Prince?” You shot back, maybe a little more hotly than what was necessary. Kuroo quirked an eyebrow at your snippy response. You looked away from him quickly, sucking at your front teeth before responding. “Sorry. I’m still working on that.”

“The attitude or the mindset?” Kuroo snorted, a breathy chuckle leaving his nose as he settled against the back of his own couch. “Because both could use a little work.”

“You really do like poking at people, don’t you?”

“It’s fun to push buttons and get a rise out of someone,” He shrugged casually. “People usually show their true colors when they are annoyed or angry.”

“True colors, huh? Are you trying to discover the real me?” Kuroo half smirked at your question, raising a shoulder lazily as he slung and arm across the back to the couch. You eyed him warily. “You may not like it.”

“We’ll see about that, Princess.”

TAGS: @turquoiselace @akasuns @edensxgarden @iguessimastannow @carbs-need-more-love @ack-aashi @weebartistinc @semiathleticnerdykid @foryearsnyears @kuxredere @yatoatyourservice @rirk-ke @weebintheinternet @hajartemis @kiyobbie @aegeanblues @guardianangelswings @lukaseu @aj--honey @shiningstar-byulxx

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todourouki · 4 years

Text

Mr. & Mrs. Bakugo (1)

a mini series | chapter ONE

✰ I’m finally posting a bakugo mini fic and I don’t think y’all understand just how fucking excited I am for this WHEW anyways yea I think I can post part two in a few hours <3 wanting after this it’s literally just sex and irdc xox enjoy

btw y’all see the gif I made? ain’t it mad cute? ugh i’m soft for this bozo

PAIRING bakugo x fem!reader

WORD COUNT 3.0k

WARNINGS cursing

✎ 2 | ✎ 3 | ✎ 4 | ✎ 5

The office was a generally quiet area. That's how pro-hero Ground Zero liked it. There was always calm, instrumental music playing in the back with everyone dressed in their dark hero outfits in contrast to the complete set up of the office. Anyone hardly ever spoke, compensating for the loud yelling done by the blond man every day in his office.

At lunch, everyone ate the same food and sat with the same people, all returned to their same boring desks and always had the same looks on their face. Everyone enjoyed it, which would be hard to tell if anyone who wasn't a worker there looked from the outside. Bakugo loved the dynamic of his office, he enjoyed the consistency.

That was, until you arrived.

You had been recommended by no one other than the number one hero of his time, All-Might, so Bakugo really felt he had no choice but to take you on. He had never heard of you before— only knowing you were in freshly graduated from U.A about two years prior in class 1-A and he was a bit impressed as he read through your file given to him by the retired-hero.

Y/L/N, Y/N

19 | December 16th

Quirk: Mutation (can look at anyone and quickly mutate into them for max 30 minutes, including their quirk)

Strongest Qualities: Witty, Strong-Willed, Truthful, Punctual, Confident

Weakest Qualities: Quick-Tempered, Defiant, might have a bit of a Superiority Complex, Lazy

The minute he accepted you into his office, he instantly regret it.

You walked in with a smile that was probably a bit too bright for his liking. Your outfit consisted of a black, skin tight body suit with the zipper hanging dangerously low. It resembled the one of that one air headed girl from Shiketsu High from the practical Bakugo participated in. Your curly, voluptuous hair cascaded down your scalp, curly bangs covering some of your forehead. Your long, shiny boots went up to your thighs as you walked with so much confidence, it made him think back to the years he was in UA (which was really only like 4 years ago. He was 22).

He watched as you walked in, hands behind your back as each step made almost close to no noise. The minute you opened your mouth to make a comment about how boring every thing was around you, Bakugo decided he hated you.

It wasn't as if he would ever fire you. He couldn't. You were an amazing hero, and you did your job really well. You mastered your quirk, being able to transform back and forth quickly within the blink of an eye. You mastered stealth, played your role, and were never late to work.

His only real problem with you, was when you weren't on your outside patrols and doing outside work. Outside the office, Bakugo almost loved how good you were at your job. Inside, though? He absolutely despised you. You knew it too.

You'd do things to purposely get him riled up; always walking too slow for his liking to meetings, always being defiant during those same meetings, always sitting with your legs on top of your desk and your body leaned back against the chair as you read a magazine instead of doing actual work, always doing things he despised.

Don't get him started on your appearance either. The body suits never changed, yet they were always some different color. You had the ability to change the color whenever you wanted to on a switch designed specially to help with your stealth, and you used it on purpose.

You knew he hated the bright colors, he hated how you walked back and forth across his office in order to make him glance at the bright, fruitful colors with a smirk on your face. You knew Bakugo would never fire you— you were too damn good at your job for him to even consider it. Today, you found yourself sporting the black version of your body-suit though, wanting to give the man a break before he popped a vessel.

Everyone in the office admired you, slowly doing things like having colored flowers on their desks, or having a bit more fun at work. Bakugo noticed but never said anything.

With that, you found yourself dragging in the bag of papers you had just retrieved from some villains on the parts of town that belonged to Bakugo and his team. You smiled at everyone, politely responding to their greetings and making your way to the door of the man you loved speaking to the most. You weren't sure if it was the anger, the bickering, or the looks he gave you, but he was a very attractive man. There was no denying that. Getting him riled up was your favorite thing to do at work, honestly speaking.

You knocked on his door, hearing his groggy voice tell you to come in. The large black door opened as you pushed it, closing it once you got in and marching over to his large glass desk.

He sat there, hands behind his head as his feet were crossed across the desk and his face screamed I hate being a hero and I'm really stressed. He sat in his hero outfit, all the accessories thrown against the desk as he looked at you waiting for you to speak.

"I got the plans from that one villain hideout on 43rd. It was in this really gross building. I should be payed extra for having to dirty my suit like that." You joked, tossing the bag on the desk and wiping the imaginary dirt off your covered stomach. Bakugo grabbed the bag, looking through it and tossing it back onto the desk.

"Good, get back to work." He simply said, tiredly looking out the floor to ceiling windows across from you. You raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on your hip expectedly.

"What? No smart remark?" You questioned. He looked at you with his crimson red eyes beginning to narrow.

"I don't have time for that today, [y/l/n]." The sophistication made your nose scrunch, moving some things off his desk and propping you butt right into it.

Bakugo stared at you in disbelief, taking his legs off the desk as he stared at you with anger beginning to rise against his cheeks. Bingo.

“Get your ass off your boss's desk." He growled, making you laugh and turn your legs all the way over. They were now facing him, your entire body sitting across from his as he inched his chair back.

This wasn't the first time you had done this, honestly you knew how much he hated it which is exactly why you did it so much. You also knew he really wouldn't stop you from sitting there. It was a thing the both of you had, just like the bickering.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. What's up your ass today?" Your voice was blunt, looking at your manicured hands in front of you and playing with the acrylic white tips in disinterest.

“The fact that you have no respect for your superiors." He grumbled, rolling his chair beside you and beginning to read some of the papers.

His arms were terribly close to your thighs, and you almost had to physically punch yourself to stop thinking about what it would be like if he placed a hand on top of them. You both couldn't do that, you knew how much you despised the man and you knew just how much he hated you.

“You're so fucking boring." You stated, hopping off the desk and strutting your way to the window. Bakugo ignored your, clenching the pen in his hand with more force as he sighed deeply and stood quiet.

This bothered you. There was nothing you hated more than being ignored, and you knew that he knew that you hated that.

“I said," you spoke through gritted teeth, marching over to the desk and gripping the glass with your fingers, "You're, so, fucking, boring." Each word seethed through your teeth as your irritation grew.

“Can you stop being such a fucking attention-seeking bitch and understand that I don't have time for your shit today?" Bakugo retaliated with sarcasm laced in his tone.

He lifted his head to stare at you, both your eyes filled with an immense amount of hatred that made your chest heave. This is how every conversation between the two of you went. You'd walk in, a purposely happy mood to get on his nerves, him having a shitty attitude over whatever minuscule thing happened to him, and both of you having a two lined conversation before starting to bicker harshly. Your eyes never left his, the grip on the glass hardening as you furrowed you're freshly done eyebrows.

“Get the fuck out of my office." Your boss spat, making you scoff at his words.

“You think I want to be in here?" You asked, not once breaking eye contact with the blond man. "I just want to know why the dude that signs my checks has a fucking stick up his ass—"

“That's enough!" Bakugo yelled, slamming his hand against the glass and hearing it even slightly crack.

This caused you to flinch, a scowl appearing on your face. This was the exact end you predicted. You got on his nerves or he got on yours, you'd both come at each other's throats, then you'd leave in a huff. Same thing, different day.

You stood quiet, letting go of the desk and snorting, mumbling the word fucking asshole under your breath as you turned around and walked out the door. Today bothered you more for some reason.

You weren't sure if it was the aggressive way he hit the desk that bothered you or if it was the problems you were going through back in your apartment with a certain man you wouldn't want to think about right now, but whatever it was really pissed you off.

You made sure to slam the door on your way out, walking over to the elevator and going back to the main floor where everyone else from your department was located. On the way, you passed his secretary who always gave you a sneer when you'd come out his office.

You knew, as well as every other damn person that worked for that asshole, that she had some weird obsession with the man. She also had some weird obsession with the idea of you and him sleeping together.

“You should really respect your superiors, [Y/N]." She made sure to put a disgusting emphasis on your name while you waited for the stupid, excruciatingly slow elevator to get to your floor.

“You should really suck my dick, Lui." You retaliated. You were staring at her with your arms crossed against your chest and a smirk playing on your lips.

It wasn't until you turned around that you heard another voice just had to butt in. He just had to speak when he wasn't being spoken to. The elevator finally reached the floor, yet before the doors opened, you heard him call out to you.

“[Y/N], you should really respect Lui," his voice was smug, staring at you with the same crossed arm pose as he leaned against his open door, "she is your superior after all."

You did nothing but glare at him, letting the doors close on your angry face and finally going back down to where you belonged.

✰.

Around two hours later, you found yourself shuffling papers around your desk. It had been a while since you organized it and you thought now that you had nothing to do (and by nothing, you meant having assignments you just didn't feel like doing), now would be the perfect time to do it.

As soon as you started to get in the groove, you heard your phone on the desk buzz and you just knew who it was. With an attitude, you picked up the phone, twirling the cord with your nails.

“Mr. Bakugo would like to see you." Lui sneered, making you roll your eyes and hang up. Mr. Bakugo? Get a fucking grip, you thought to yourself as you made your way to the man's office.

✰.

Ignoring Lui's orders to not walk in without knocking, you shoved the door open and walked inside the man's cold, exposed office. In front of you was a shirtless Bakugo, standing with tailors at his sides as he tried on different shirts.

You gulped, trying your hardest to not stare as you started to play with your nails. It was something you always did to make sure you didn't give the blond any confidence points. He didn't need to know how attractive he looked more than he probably does.

“[Y/N]." His blank tone made you hum in response, waiting for him to continue.

“Look at me when I speak to you." Fuck.

Your eyes rolled, maintaining your composure and looking up at the man that was now buttoning up a crimson red button up shirt that fit him spectacularly.

Your eyes roamed down to his chest for a second, studying the exposed skin before he covered it back up. The man took no notice of your wandering eyes, finally meeting your eyes and clearing his throat.

“There's a Gala in downtown Tokyo tonight. Can I count on you to attend with me?" He questioned darkly. You glared at him, still mad at what he had said to you but huffing in defeat.

You knew this day was coming. You knew you had to go with him to this stupid gala because there were most likely going to be some of the highest paid criminals around and you knew it had to do with the case you were currently working on.

And even if you just wanted to go home after work and take a fucking break from having a scowl on your face all day, you knew you didn't really have a choice.

“Yes."

Your blank response made him send the tailors towards you, beginning to take measures of your body for them. It wasn't until you had to physically stop them with your arms out.

“I actually have a dress of my own I plan on wearing, no need for all this." Your lips curved up to a smile as the men bowed in apology and went back to Bakugo.

The blond man stood quiet, letting you know to be ready by eight and to leave early if you felt it was necessary. An excuse to leave early? Of course you would take it.

✰.

You found yourself frantically fixing your make up while the time read 7:54. You didn't know it would take so much for your curly hair to come to an understanding with you, and with the way time was looking, you were in for an argument once Bakugou arrived downstairs.

He had informed you that he and his driver were going to pick you up so you could arrive together to remove any suspicion from the villains, and you honestly thought it was just an excuse for him to make sure you looked good enough for him.

After finally fixing the eyelash that was threatening to come off, you made sure you were set before reaching for the dress you had been dying to wear. It was an expensive piece, one gifted to you by a close friend that you had never come around to wearing.

It was a tight fitted, spaghetti strap, satin dress. It was a dark vermillion red with a runched up top that tighten against your breasts to lift them up.

It also had a beautiful simple back, only being connected by strings weaving in from side to side as if it were shoelaces. It went past your feet, dragging on the floor in an elegant way, and also had a slit running up landing precisely on your upper thigh.

It was beautiful, and even though it was probably going to be ruined somehow, it was something you were excited to wear.

You slipped on the garter first, a simple black material that tightened against the skin above the slit on your thigh. You shoved a covered knife in it, making sure to prepare for the worst of course.

Finally slipping the dress on, you realized you had absolutely no time to tie the strings in the back as you heard an obnoxious honking from outside your apartment complex, paired with your phone buzzing unbearably.

Without even answering it, you shoved your phone in between your breasts, and grabbed your small, black handbag that had some extra lipgloss, your wallet, and your will to leave since you know you might lose it tonight by spending it with your boss.

The ringing continued as you rolled your eyes and made sure your black strap heels were tight enough before spraying on some extra perfume and running out the door.

Your dress clung to your hand as you used your other to push through doors and scrunch your hair up. It wasn't long before you were finally outside, the honking ceasing as you finally reached the extremely long limousine. You had no time to gawk though, because soon enough the driver, Kari, opened the door for you.

“Apologizes on behalf of Mr. Bakugo, Mrs. [Y/L/N]. He will be meeting us at the location to ensure the safety of both of you." His voice rang through your ears as you tried your hardest not to roll your eyes at the man.

You got in the car with a smile, having it quickly drop as you furrowed your eyebrows and tried your hardest not to bite your lips. You weren't sitting in front of your small mirror for nothing. As the car drove off, you watched your apartment complex disappear and leaned back against the seat.

Made me rush my ass through my make-up just to not show up? What an asshole, you huffed in your seat, taking your phone out from your chest and glancing out the window some more.

✰

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popwasabi · 4 years

Text

“Who are you?” The scene that defines Chadwick Boseman’s legacy

Yesterday, the world lost a bright and promising, burgeoning talent in Chadwick Boseman.

I had wondered privately for a while if something was wrong with him, as others had as well online, as he appeared increasingly sicker with each interview he gave over the last two years. I thought maybe I had been looking too much into it, not wanting to jump to conclusions about who he was but now gravely we all know why.

The much too young star of films such as “42,” “Marshall,” and of course, “Black Panther” had been fighting a largely private battle with colon cancer for four years.

It was devastating hearing this news yesterday, the man who undeniably left behind a legacy of playing prominent black heroes, both historical and fictional, passed away just as he was starting to truly hit it big. When you begin to realize the man was dealing with cancer as he performed physically demanding roles in the MCU you begin to see the character and determination of a man unwilling to quit in the face of true adversity.

But he clearly wasn’t just doing it for himself when he continued making and promoting NINE more movies despite his diagnosis, afterall no one would’ve blamed the guy for taking it easy these past four years. He’s had many scenes that define his legacy over his all too short career but I feel it can really be summed up in one particular moment from by far his most famous film; “Black Panther.”

Those who know me or have read my work know that I have a fairly cynical relationship with the Marvel Cinematic Universe. While I would not say most of them are “bad” per se, I would say a ton of them are largely interchangeable action comedies with pretty straightforward messages about good vs evil for general audiences. They are largely popcorn escapism and though there is nothing technically wrong with that, I was starved for an MCU film that was sincere about its story finally and had something real to say.

Enter “Black Panther” in early 2018.

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“Black Panther” was everything I had long been waiting for in the MCU; a film with a real sense of vision and theme, a killer soundtrack, great supporting characters, a complicated and nuanced villain, and a story that didn’t feel the need to add a joke after every single scene like more typical MCU movies. The tip of that spear of course was Chadwick, who had already proved to be a great Black Panther in one of the few other sincere Marvel flicks “Civil War.” His natural charisma, physicality, and dramatic presence in this role made him a huge standout in frankly the best ensemble cast of any superhero movie ever.

The scene that truly sums up not just the mark “Black Panther” left on Hollywood but Chadwick’s own legacy comes at the very end though (the first of three, of course. It’s an MCU movie, afterall).

T’Challa has defeated his usurper cousin Erik Killmonger, his rule restored in Wakanda but clearly a changed man from the story’s beginning as he reckons with the complicated legacy of his father. He travels to Oakland, the birthplace of Killmonger, with his sister Shuri who he explains the crime committed by their father in this place and how it set off the events of the story. He turns to Shuri, tells her that he has decided to help this afflicted community by creating a Wakandan outreach center for the youth to give them a new hope in life. As he says this he decloaks their ship nearby, surprising the youth already in the area who are immediately in awe of it. One of the kids turns to T’Challa, smiling, a sense of inspiration and intrigue brewing inside, and asks “Who are you?” to which the young King simply smiles, then the credits roll.

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It’s a simple scene but it truly speaks to the impact left behind by Chadwick and the importance of representation.

“Black Panther” is hardly the first starring vehicle for a black man, it’s not even the first black super hero movie but what it made it different is it was the first blockbuster to truly lean unapologetically into its African identity to focus on the inspiration of a story centered around that culture. It showed Hollywood that an action blockbuster not just centered on a black star but centered on African culture had vast widespread appeal.

White kids will never have a shortage of white superheroes to grow up with on the big screen; a diverse palette of Supermans, Spider-mans, Captain Americas, and shit we’re even getting our sixth new Batman actor since 1989 soon. But Chadwick gave black kids their first real Superman of their own.

In the years since this came out, I have seen the influence, at times, firsthand among the youth. I work part-time as a kids martial arts instructor and each Halloween party we’ve held I’ve seen a few more T’Challas among the costumes represented. When I ask kids, black, white, or Asian, what their favorite superhero is, it always warms my heart to see a kid light up when they say “BLACK PANTHER!”

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(Seriously, cute AF)

This goes beyond just my anecdotal observations of course; the film grossed a billion dollars, and there are countless videos online of kids yelling “Wakanda forever!” at the top of their lungs while rocking a Black Panther suit or reciting one of the movie’s memorable lines. It’s beautiful because it speaks to that last scene’s key message; inspiration.

Growing up myself, as a half Asian American, there weren’t a ton of role models who looked like me to take inspiration from. I didn’t really understand how much this could affect me until I finally did start seeing people like myself occupy positions of influence. I didn’t start caring for baseball until I saw a slugger named Hideki Matsui smash a couple dingers in a Yankees’ uniform in the early 2000s. I didn’t care much for martial arts, outside my very early youth, until I witnessed a half Japanese Brazilian named Lyoto Machida KO Thiago Silva at UFC 94 in 2009. I didn’t care much for soccer until a striker named Keisuke Honda played out of his mind in the early rounds of the 2010 FIFA World Cup.

Sometimes you gotta see something happen in order to believe and be inspired by it and it’s easier to visualize it when you see someone who looks like you do it. That’s what representation means and why it’s important.

It’s easy for white America to dismiss the need for representation in media when theirs is so saturated in the culture everyday. Cries of “wHaT aBoUt wHiTe HiStORy mOnTH?!” delivered unironically while their history is proudly given front seat consideration in all forms of media, film, and influence every day. This is why it drives me so crazy when a white person tells me “representation isn’t important” because apparently, they “don’t need it.”

Well motherfucker, of course you don’t need it. You fucking got yours already!

(What every non-white person wants to say when confronted with this tired, out of touch argument...)

“Black Panther” delivered a superhero that not only black children could be proud of and love but someone they could draw inspiration from. Kids are going to want to become film directors cause of this movie, actors, stuntmen, martial artists, scientists, engineers, and so many other different things that the world of Wakanda proudly showcases and it’s all thanks to Chadwick’s leading man performance that made it possible.

Some jokes I’ve heard frequently on the internet is that Chadwick was on somewhat of a quest to play every major black role in story-telling history, what with performances as Jackie Robinson, Thurgood Marshall, James Brown, and of course Black Panther. But I think his 2018 speech at his Alma Mater of Howard really explains why he kept looking to play these major positive black roles.

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(I encourage you to listen to the whole thing but the part that’s important here begins at 21:55)

Hollywood likes to pigeon hole certain demographics of people (aka non-white) to play stereotypical roles forever until they are proven to be lucrative in different ways (Qualified Immunity of film-making if you will…). Black people largely could mostly play thugs and drug dealers, Latinx can only be gang bosses and poor servants and gardeners, Asians are either kung fu masters or some other offensive perpetual foreigner. And in worst cases no role at all, instead whitewashed for general audiences (aka white folk).

Chadwick took a stand that the color of his skin did not define who Hollywood narrowly believed he could perform as and set out to play characters and people who could inspire a new generation of African Americans and show the rest of the country that they were more than a stereotype.

When that young kid in that final scene asks, “Who are you?” and T’Challa smiles its because he knows he’s already changing hearts and minds for the future, just as Chadwick did playing this truly inspirational role.

“Black Panther” is not a perfect movie. I could discuss the ways it could’ve been better and even, less problematic in parts on a different day, but the legacy it leaves behind is one that’s undeniably positive and Chadwick was able to make that a reality. Perhaps he understood that if the world knew his diagnosis it would blunt the impact of “Black Panther’s” release, that if little kids and African Americans alike knew their superhero was already dying it would mar the film’s positivity and influence. I can’t speak for the dead obviously, and in no way am I saying one should just push through a cancer diagnosis and keep it secret, but I can see Chadwick understanding what it would mean for the audience if they just believed for as long as possible that they would have their king of Wakanda forever.

As Robert Downey Jr. said on social media last night “He leveled the playing field while fighting for his life.”

Though I will never know him personally, by most measures Chadwick seemed to be exactly the kind of hero he showed up to be on the big screen and his legacy will ultimately be that of one who looked to inspire others, particularly the next generation until his final breath. If that doesn’t make him a hero, I don’t know what does.

Rest in power, King. Wakanda Forever…

(Via BossLogic)

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airi-p4 · 3 years

Text

Kwami Christmas

For @quickspinner ‘s Month of Miracles, Day 16: kwami gifts

AO3 _______________________________

"Marinette! What do you want for Christmas? The kwamis want to give you something to show gratitude for how well you treat us" Tikki happily asked.

"Thank you, guys, but I don't need anything. Any material thing, at least" she sighed, sadly. "Thank you anyway. I'm happy to have you around”

Tikki wasn't content with her answer. She had been observing Marinette throughout the years, and she knew her well enough to know when she wasn't happy. And she hadn't been for a while. That's where the gift idea came from, anyway. But… what would make her the happiest?

Tikki entered the Miraculous box and called for a kwami assembly. With Sass and Plagg with their respective owners, Tikki took the role of leader in the box.

"Guys. I need ideas for Marinette's Christmas present. What information have you gathered?" Tikki asked, hitting the improvised table (an empty roll of thread) with her hand.

"What about some cookies?" Mullo suggested. "She loves cookies!" The other kwamis raised their cheerful voices in agreement, but Tikki cut them short.

"No. We can't compete with her parents' cookies. We need something more special. Kaalki, any idea?"

"Let's give her kwami glitter. She'll be fabulous with it!"

"I doubt she would be happy with her body glowing in glitter forever, nor glowing in the dark. Any other ideas? Pollen?"

"What about a crown? She's our queen, isn't she?" 'yes, she is!’ The rest of kwamis responded.

"Mm… could work, but let's consider other ideas. Ziggy?"

"A magic comb! She'll be able to comb her hair without damaging it thanks to the magic!"

"Marinette's hair is already silky and beautiful, but we can add it to the list. Ok, next. Xuppu?"

"A banana tree! I love bananas! I bet she does too"

"Discarded.” ‘Whyyyy’ Xuppu cried at Tikki's blunt rejection. “Trixx?"

“A flying carriage! Like in that story! She could travel anywhere if she had it, even to-"

"Wayzz?"

"What about something that warms her heart?"

Tikki's attention was caught for the first time since their assembly started. "That sounds right. Any idea of what could that be?"

"Hot chocolate? Longg suggested.

"A kwami magic blanket?" Roarr added.

"A love potion?" Ziggy mentioned.

"Isn't that forbidden…?" The ox kwami said.

"Yes, it is." Tikki answered.

"Something made with love?" The rooster kwami said, earning the looks of the rest of the kwamis. "She's been so sad since that boy left Paris..."

"You mean Plagg's owner or-?" Fluff asked.

"That's right!" Tikki finally shouted, hitting the pseudo-table with her hands. "She's been longing for some love. She told me Adrien wasn't what she expected, that she regretted having chosen the wrong boy at that time"

"Do you think she still regrets it, even now?" The pig kwami asked.

"If this is about the blueberry boy, I would say she does" the fox kwami affirmed.

"How do you know that, Trixx?"

"Because I've seen her sighing at his photo before. Haven't you noticed? Her eyes filled with love and hurt. She even cried once"

"Oh, no! Poor Master Marinette!" "Let's help her!" "Yes, let's give her love!" the kwamis cried for their guardian.

"Guys… we can't change people's hearts, you know that…" Tikki said.

"What if he feels the same? It's been a long time but maybe…" Nooroo said.

"You're right! We have to contact Sass and-" Duusu exclaimed.

"We don't even know where he is… He left Paris, didn't he?" The dog kwami asked.

"Oh no…" "what can we do now…?" "Is there a way to contact him?"

"I have an idea. I can go to his sister, my previous owner. I'm sure she'll tell me" The tiger kwami suggested.

"Stop, Roarr. You know everyone has forgotten about the Miraculous. Except those who has used time-related ones, either Sass or Fluff"

"What about Alix, then? My previous owner?"

"Didn't she have a crush on the blueberry boy too? I don't think it's a good idea…" Longg dismissed Fluff’s idea.

The discussion followed for some minutes, but Tikki wasn't listening. She kept thinking what they could do to know if Luka's feelings remained the same. Sass’s kwami cycle was a few years further, but maybe, there could be another way. There had to! Tikki re-read the list:

Magic glitter

Crown

A comb

Banana tree

Magic flying carriage

Hot chocolate

Magic blanket

Love

'Music' Tikki thought. Remembering how the blue boy used to play his guitar for her. Her eyes finally glowed in hope. "Guys. I think I've got it!" she exclaimed.

"Really!?" "Tell us!" "Woohoo!"

"I need a minute to check on something. I'll be right back!" And with these words, Tikki left the Miraculous box.

Outside, looking at her surroundings, she saw how Marinette had fallen asleep in her desk. She had her earphones on and trails of tears at the corners of her eyes. Tikki covered her with a blanket and took her earphone out to listen to the music. It was indeed Luka's song, the one he composed for her many years ago.

She then moved into her smartphone and searched for the boy's more recent songs. It had been 5 years since he had left, even more since they first met, but the tune under his songs, even if hidden and faint, remained the same to Tikki's experienced ears: Marinette's tune.

The discovery reassured her plans.

She entered the box again, ready to share her plans with her fellow kwamis.

"Guys! You know how kwamis can't be recorded, right? But that's not entirely true. We can listen to each other's voice recordings. I remember hearing Plagg through the phone before. It's not impossible"

"What's the plan?" Barkk asked.

"I want you to get what's on the list ready for Christmas. Can you do it?"

"Of course!" They all agreed, happily moving to their tasks.

"You'll have the best Christmas present ever, Marinette", Tikki said, kissing Marinette's cheek before secretly using her tablet to carry on with her plan.

_______________________________________________________

And just like that, Christmas arrived.

"Merry Christmas, Marinette!" The kwamis congratulated the guardian. Marinette giggled and answered back "Merry Christmas"

"We have some gifts for you!" Tikki exclaimed.

"Oh, guys, it wasn't necessary, you know? Thank you" she said, welcoming the presents.

"What's all this?" She blinked.

"Wear it!" they enthusiastically exclaimed.

Marinette put on a silver tiara with blue and pink diamonds, and the kwami magic blanket over her shoulders, like a cape. She then put some glitter on her dress and shoes. She looked like a princess.

"Wow! This is so pretty! I feel like Cinderella" she giggled. "Thank you very much"

“You’re welcome!” They said, Tikki signaling them. “We have something else for you”

“You do?” Marinette blinked again.

“You need to sleep first. Sorry Marinette” Tikki said, while Duusu cast some sleeping magic on her, putting her under sleep. “Time for the plan, everyone!” Tikki smiled, using Marinette’s phone to give a call to an old friend.

_____________________________________

Marinette could listen to some music. New music to her ears. It sounded like chants, coming from somewhere far. Far away. She opened her eyes to see she was on a deserted island with only a banana tree and some bushes on it. “Xuppu!” she heard a low voice complaining.

“Tikki?” she called. “Where am I? Is this a dream?”

Marinette felt like crying at noticing her surroundings: alone on a deserted island, in the dark night, just as if she was inside her own lonely heart. She curled to hug her knees as soft whimpers left her throat. ‘This is the worst Christmas ever…’ she whispered between hiccups.

All of a sudden, she heard some water splashing and saw something coming from the sea. She wasn’t sure what, but it was getting close. She was afraid it was a shark, but instead, she soon realized it was a tiny boat. “Help!” she screamed and waved, and it wasn’t until the boat was almost at the coast that she realized who was on it.

“Luka?” she gasped. ‘Could this be true? This had to be a dream- no doubt’, she thought.

His surprised expression could match her own. Both of them were hesitant to take a step closer. ‘It had been five years. Why would they meet now?’ Marinette felt her stomach twirl at how sour destiny could be. Luka stayed silent, trying to understand what was going on. ‘Where was he? Why was Marinette there? What happened to Christmas?’ But everything lost its importance when he noticed the tears in her eyes.

“Marinette” he called, and her body reacted in a jolt. “What happened? Why are you crying?”

Marinette finally lifted her face to meet his blue eyes. Her glowing dress was, along with the moon, the only source of light. “Luka… Is- Is that really you…?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s me. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? What happened? Where are we? Don’t cry, please” he begged, taking a few steps closer.

“I- I don’t know… I woke up here all alone and it was all dark and lonely and Tikki and the kwamis disappeared and- This must be a dream, right? There’s no way this is real”

“Probably, yes. When I woke up I was on the boat, lost in the middle of the sea. Then I saw something glowing and I moved towards that direction, looking for the land. I didn’t expect you to be the one glowing...” he explained. “You look beautiful. Thank you for guiding me here, Marinette. I’m happy to see you”

“Luka!” she jumped to hug him. “I- I was so scared! I- I-”

“It’s ok, Marinette. I’m here now. We can use the boat to-” Marinette’s grip tightened around him, and he immediately got worried. “Marinette…”

Luka hesitated. As much as he wanted to hold her, he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to. She had made her choice back at the time, and it hadn’t been him. ‘What claim could he have now, after years of an unreciprocated love he couldn’t move on from? Wasn’t it a dream, though? It had to be. Hasn’t he dreamed of her multiple times before? It didn’t need to be different now’, he convinced himself.

And he hugged her back, overthrowing all the piled up love he had for her. Marinette’s gasp was cut by her need for ask, enjoying the fantasy hug for as long as she could.

“Marinette…” he whispered again, close to her ear. In response, she pressed her body to his even closer, in need of contact. Their heartbeats were fast, in unison, and they stayed together until the chants from before alerted them.

“What’s this music?” Luka asked, giving her some space.

“I- I don’t know…” she answered, still clinging to his body.

“Should we go search for land? The boat must be- Oh, no. The boat is gone. Sorry Marinette” Luka apologized. “I should have brought it closer to the sand”

“It’s not your fault Luka. This… This sea is probably my heart. Meeting you here has just reminded me how much I regret the past, so the sea level increased. It’s not your fault. It’s mine”

“Is this… your heart? I thought it was mine… Your heart should be a happy sunny place. You deserve to be happy, not like me. What happened? What's here that darkens your heart so much?”

Marinette could only cry. ‘You’, she wanted to say. Would he believe her, though? If this was her dream, he would probably return her feelings, and when she wakes up, she would be sad and disappointed. She wasn’t sure if she should be enjoying this tiny happiness in the form of an illusion. Before she could say anything, a shooting star fell in front of their eyes. The stardust cleared up to transform into a magical flying carriage, similar to Cinderella’s.

“Now there’s no doubt this is a dream” Luka stated. “Why don’t we try to enjoy our time while we’re here, Cinderella? Just like old times…” He smiled at her but, instead of waiting for an answer, he lifted her light body and seated her in the carriage, getting on after her. “Let’s go”

A rainbow suddenly appeared as a road to guide them. Marinette was still unsure of how to cope with the fueling emotions going through her heart, while Luka kept looking at her from under his lashes in his usual loving eyes- the expression he only showed for Marinette.

“Luka” Marinette called. “Isn’t that the Liberty?” she pointed.

“What?” He reacted in surprise. “No way… It sank just before I moved, remember? The day you- rejected me.” His words felt like a stab in her heart. She had rejected him before, and that was her deepest regret in her life. “Let’s go see it. It’s a dream, after all”

The carriage stopped at the Liberty’s deck and Luka helped Marinette to step down from the flying vehicle. “Wow, so nostalgic… It’s exactly as I remember it. As expected of dreams. Are you cold?” He noticed her trembling and grabbed a blanket to cover her. “Here. Look. There’s some cookies and hot chocolate, too. Let me prepare you some. Wait here”

“NO!” Marinette shouted. “I- I’ll help!”

“Of course” Luka smiled. “Do you think we’ll remember this when we wake up?”

“I don’t know…” Marinette answered.

“I wish I could meet you like this when we’re back in the real world. I’ve missed you, Marinette. A lot more than you could imagine” Luka said, reaching for his favorite mug.

“STOP!” Marinette shouted loudly. Then, her eyes became sad and focused on the man in front of her. “How do you expect me to go back to the real world after this sweet dream? This is where I rejected you! This is where the moment I regret the most in my life occurred!”

Luka waited a few seconds in silence before he spoke again, making Marinette tensed up as she waited. “Why don’t you use this dream to fix your regret, then? Isn’t this what dreams are for? Tell me, Marinette. What do you regret?”

“I regret-” she started, but he cut her.

“I regret letting you go” he started, reaching for her hand. “I regret not trying harder to make your feelings turn to my direction. I regret leaving your side. I regret not having contacted you in all these years. I have so much regret I could never move on” He said, staring at her incredulous eyes. “I’ve never forgotten you, Marinette. You’ve always been the song in my head- even now”

Marinette felt like crying. Of course he would say kind words for her in a dream. Of course he would love her back in her sleeping palace. But she was happy. Why wouldn’t she? Seeing his relieved face gave the courage to speak up.

“I regret making the wrong choice. I regret rejecting you when you were obviously the right answer, the one for me. I regret having noticed too late. I regret never telling you my feelings. I regret not being brave enough to contact you all this time. I regret not having kissed you… But- If this is a dream and I can fix that… I want to do it right this time…” Marinette moved closer to him and cupped his cheek. “I love you, Luka. My life can’t ever feel complete without you”

And before he could answer, she leaned for a kiss on his lips. A kiss he welcomed. The kiss he had been starving for for years. The kiss he always wished for but could never force on her. The only kiss that mattered to them.

And then, the clock marked midnight.

“I guess it’s time to wake up…” Marinette whispered, not wanting her sweet dreams to end. “I wish this magical dream would never end...”

“I love you, Marinette. More than anything.” Luka said, kissing her again. “Will you give me your shoe, Cinderella? Or maybe your heart?”

“I’ll give you my shoe. I can’t give you something that’s yours already” She kissed him again before holding her arms tight around his neck. “I don’t want to wake up”

“Me neither…” Luka mumbled, keeping her close. “Can I call you sometime? Even if you don’t remember this dream… Is it ok for me to miss you? To love you?”

“I’ll be more than happy to receive a call from you. I’ve been hoping for one for so long now…” Before Marinette could lean in for another kiss, the bells rang again. “I guess it’s time to go. Here. I’ll give you this. It's a magic comb I received from the kwamis. It has some kwami glitter on it, just like the one on my dress and shoes. A lucky charm for our next meeting…”

Marinette took one step behind, and then another. Their hands irremediably split, but not before Luka kissed one of them hissing a low ‘I love you’ to her. As she took another step behind, she could feel her heart warm up… and before she could notice, she opened her eyes: back in the real world.

She woke up with tears in her eyes, but a relief and warm feeling she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Luka…” she whispered.

“Marinette!” Tikki called. “How was your dream?”

“Tikki! Was this your doing? What have you done, you little trickster!” Marinette said, happily tickling the red kwami. “Thank you Tikki, I had the sweetest dream”

“That’s not all, Marinette!” Tikki exclaimed, and the rest of the kwamis approached with her phone. The screen showed an unknown room, but a familiar guitar on the table. ‘Could it be…?’ her heart rate increased in expectation.

“Sass? Could you explain to me what just happe-” he said, and noticed the phone screen. Luka blinked in confusion, looking at his hand and back to the screen. Then, he lifted his hand to show Marinette its contents: the magic comb. Marinette gasped and that was everything Luka needed as an answer: they had shared their dream.

“So… emm…. Hi! Long time- No, that’s not right. Tikki! What’s the meaning of this!? I need answers!” She screamed in embarrassment, making Luka laugh.

“It’s Christmas magic, Marinette! Our magic is stronger during Christmas. We wanted to give you a present that would warm up your heart! Did it work?”

“It did” Marinette said, aware that Luka couldn’t see or hear her kwami’s explanations. “Merry Christmas, Luka”

Marinette’s heart grew warmer with Luka’s smile. “Merry Christmas, Marientte”

After a long video call where they confirmed that what happened was actually real, they confirmed their feelings for each other and set up a date to meet again. When the call ended, Marinette spoke to the kwamis. “Thank you. Thanks to all of you, this is the best Christmas ever. I love you”

The kwamis reunited by her side for a collective hug. “Anything to make you happy” Tikki answered.

THE END

#my fic #lukanette fic #airipyon #airip4

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intheseautumnhands · 3 years

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Sorting Hat Chats: Oxventures

Hey look, I finally actually got a sorting post written! .... and it's one that I'm pretty sure interests absolutely nobody else, because I don't think anyone else in the Sorting Hat Chats community is into Oxventures, and also the reverse. But the brainwanderings will go where they wish and they don't ask me for permission, and I've been marathoning (and sleeping to) a lot of Oxventures lately, so let's go.

Just in case anyone does choose to take a look, I'll do a brief sum up of both system and canon, so that no one's lost. System first, because I have some other thoughts about canon I want to mention. The full rundown of the basics is here, but just so we're all on the same page:

A VERY BRIEF OVERVIEW OF THE @sortinghatchatsSYSTEM

Your Primary house is your motivations, values, and why you do what you do.

Lion Primaries do it this way because their gut tells them it's right.

Bird Primaries do it this way because the system they've put together to guide them tells them this is what's right.

Badger Primaries do it this way because it's the best thing for the community as a whole, or for the most people.

Snake Primaries do it this way because it's the best thing for the people they prioritize.

Your Secondary house is how you approach the world, the methods that come most easily and naturally to you.

Lion Secondaries charge. They attack problems head-on and directly, and they're in their comfort zone when they are their authentic selves.

Bird Secondaries plan. They collect tools, skills, and information, and they're in their comfort zone when they're prepared for the situation.

Badger Secondaries toil. They put their nose to the grindstone or they build connections to get things done, and they're in their comfort zone when things call for steady, consistent work.

Snake Secondaries improvise. They're adaptive and quick on their feet, and they're in their comfort zone when they have the wiggle room to go with what comes to them.

Other terminology may come up as well. I will try and link to posts that explain it better if I end up using anything.

A VERY BRIEF EXPLANATION OF OXVENTURES

Oxventures is the D&D Actual Play show done by the youtube gaming channels Outside Xbox and Outside Xtra, DMed by Johnny Chiodini from the tabletop game channel Dicebreaker. They've been going since fall 2017, first in-person and now streamed. It is an extremely fun show with a group of very entertaining players that have been basically learning to play as it goes. If you're into D&D shows and not too bothered by a very hand-wavey approach to rules, I greatly recommend it.

There are, however, some things that make it difficult to sort. It's a comedy show, and while I don't think this is true for every comedy, in general, it's very easy for characterization to occasionally get passed over for a laugh. It's sometimes hard to tell what jokes are being thrown around OOC versus IC. And the D&D format means there is no going back and editing anything; characterization is developed on the fly, and there's already been discussion that talked about how some of the characters changed as they were being played. Also, it's action-driven -- you don't always get a lot of information on what's going through people's head, so motivation can be hard to pin down.

So it's a little difficult and I've gotten wobbly on a lot of them. Which makes it a great choice for my first sorting!

(...To be fair, it's my first sorting post. I've been watching this system and sorting things to myself for -- *checks when I first mentioned it* wait hold on five years? Really? Okay, cool. Excuse me while I sit and have a mental montage to How Far We've Come as I remember all the fine-tuning it's been through in that time.

Anyway, I've been sorting things to myself for five years, so I'm not new to this, I'm just new to trying to explain my whys, so I hope this comes out understandable. I'm sorry for the rambling, because we're already 750 words in and I haven't even started.)

ANYWAY LET'S GET TO THE SORTING.

Corazón de Ballena, human pirate rogue Corazón, oh Corazón, what... do I even do with you. He's clearly not a Badger -- fairness and other people's needs are not his priority. Between the obvious Jack Sparrow riff and the "pirate seeking glory" thing, my instinct is to say a Lion Primary, probably a Gloryhound Lion in specific. I could see a Bird Primary, just because there is something extremely constructed-feeling about Corazón -- I think his truth would look very Snake-like, prioritizing himself and the people he chooses, but I could see it.

But I'm going to lean into a full Snake Primary, I think. While he doesn't care about most people, he does care very much about the people who do matter to him -- see his whole complicated relationship with his father, even after his father tried to kill him; see his burning down a guy's house because he's mean to Prudence; to some extent, see his attempt to help end his old crew's curse. He puts people above anything else, but only the people he chooses to (or where can't help it, in his father's case) I think he'd almost like people to believe that he's Burned and doesn't care about anyone else, but he very much is not, though he doesn't seem to let new people into the circle often or easily, either. I could still very much see a Gloryhound Lion, but in the end I think if asked to put the party first or fame and fortune first -- he would complain, he would never let them hear the end of it, but he would also choose the party every single time.

For Secondary: Corazón would really want people to think he's a Snake. If he could read the descriptions and pick his own, I'm pretty sure he'd say he was a Snake. Adaptable, cunning, deceitful -- and it's not that he's not these things, but the way it manifests itself feels much more like a rapid-fire Bird Secondary. He's analytical, he learned magic entirely from books, and I haven't actually counted, but I would bet you that he makes more investigation rolls than anyone else. While his quickly thought up plans do work, they often tend to rely on things he already knows -- disguise self and minor illusion come up often, hiding and evading, etc. He seems to be one of the party that gets the most non-combat use out of his various magical abilities. It's a very quick and jack-of-many-trades style of Bird, but it's still very Bird.

Dob, half-orc bard Dob is quite possibly the loudest loyalist primary... just, that I have ever seen, ever. To start with, I'm just going to drop this quote here: "I know there's good in you, jailor I just met!"

How about the way that he's first introduced as a bard who goes from town to town playing the lullaby his lost sister used to sing to him, searching for her. Or his habit of, to quote TV Tropes, "engaging in random acts of adoption". Or the time he tried to learn spells to apologize to the dead orphans. Or how he still managed to forgive the skeletons that killed the orphans. Or the time he forgave the cult that almost got them all killed. Or giving the cultists (from a different cult) relationship advice. Or the time he ended up listening to the jailor's marriage woes. Or....

Look, I could keep going but I think we've got enough examples. So: Badger or Snake? On the one hand he definitely seems to worry about saving his particular people first when there's danger... but, there's a level of guilt about innocent people who have died on his watch, and that habit of taking in random people on multiple adventures, that really makes me lean towards a Badger Primary. Dob seems to genuinely care about everyone they cross as a default, and of all of them, he's the first I can see coming to the aid of an enemy who he has no prior positive experiences with.

As for a Secondary, Dob is the master of quick plans, quicker lies, and steamrolling NPCs into going along with things. The entire party ends up thinking on their feet more often than not, but he seems to do his best work that way, as a Snake Secondary often does. Sometimes he goes so fast that he forgets something and makes a mistake -- which is how "don't be a Dob" has become a thing -- but his impulsive ideas actually work out more often than it doesn't, and he's also very good at connecting with a wide variety of people. On the page for Snake/Slytherin Secondaries, the SHC site says,

"Slytherins will adapt to their own best advantage without thinking about it. They’ll walk into a situation and things will work out to their benefit without them quite knowing what happened or what they did to influence it."

-- and doesn't that just fit with Dob's ridiculous amounts of luck?

He does seem to spend a fair amount of time in his neutral state, or at least adapting in a non-conscious kind of way. There is something generally blunt about Dob a lot of the time, enough that I considered Lion pretty heavily -- but in the end, he works best when he's running on the fly and making shit up, in a way that feels extremely Snake to me. And he's not only so good at lying, but so quick to default to it, that Lion doesn't feel accurate.

Egbert the Careless, dragonborn paladin Poor Egbert, the worst paladin. While his original order really seems to prioritize a very classic Paragon Lion Primary, Egbert barely seems to have a model of one -- it's more of a performance, which is being chipped steadily away by the rest of the party. He tries, but I can't see a genuine Lion Primary from his background killing people so casually. Or hitting an old man with a cursed mace over and over until he turns into a seal. And then keeping the seal as a pet. Or just... saying "maybe crime is good!" because he likes the food at the crime den. He's trying, but he's really not good at it. So the question remains: what is he?

I think it's hard to place him because, one, he really want to be that Lion. And second, whatever he is, I think the values that motivation is set on are... kind of in flux? I don't think he's super burned; I think he might be lightly charred at best. But: if he's a Bird, he's in the process of losing the truth of "whatever the Order of the Dragon Door says is right" to something that comes more from the party and probably more genuinely. If he's a Badger, he's in the process of changing communities. If he's a Snake, the Order is getting pushed more and more out of his inner circle, replaced by the party.

I was leaning Badger, but the more I think about it, I think that's the remnants of the attempt to play Lion. I think Egbert's a Snake Primary who is starting to shed his old skin. (There's like three layers of bad joke in that, and I'm sorry.) The Lion priorities made that Snake look a little more Badger-y, but he does so, so many things that just don't strike me as caring deep down about need. Like the thing where he turned an old man into a seal. I just keep looking at that incident and I either need to completely ignore that incident -- which is hard, when Seal Gaiman is still hanging around -- or go with something else. His reaction to Dana's bigotry in Snow Mercy does feel a little more Badger-y to me... but that could still be that Lion Performance flavoring, and/or a symptom of how the party as a whole gets pissed about anti-tiefling sentiment coming out in sympathy of another maligned race. I also feel like a Badger would be working a little more actively on atonement and stop getting distracted.

He is, however, a very loud Lion Secondary. While the party as a whole does a lot of ploys that involve deceit or talking their way into things, Egbert is rarely the one doing that part. He doesn't bother with subtlety, or with doing any of the many things he can as a paladin, which is how we got the whole glorious "you've been able to teleport for how long?" moment. He does sometimes manage to make connections that move the story along, and he always does it by being himself.

But most of all, I can't think of a better word to describe how Egbert attacks a situation than charging. I'm just going to quote again from the site:

"their problems are met head on rather than subverted, negotiated, or cajoled. They have an efficiency so direct it’s almost combative."

And that seems like Egbert to a T.

Merilwen, wood elf druid Merilwen is a Badger Primary whose version of "people" is "animals, my community, and also I guess these four now". She doesn't really seem to care about what would traditionally be considered "people", and Ellen (who plays her) has spoken about how Merilwen's morals towards non-animals is pretty much entirely influenced by the party -- but with the things she cares about she strikes me as extremely Badger. She's absolutely ready to throw down everything for the party, but when they're not in danger from it, she will also absolutely fight the rest of them for an animal -- see that incident where she talked everyone out of fighting the Owlbear. "Animals are hurt" or "you hurt my friends" is the fastest way to bring out her viscous side.

She could also maybe be a Snake who includes all animals in her circle, but: one, I very much feel like she'd choose whether to prioritize her friends or an animal over who needs her more. Two, the way she interacts with her family and her community in Elf Hazard seems very Badger to me. Her worry about not being able to see her family again, her unwillingness to disappoint them and decision to take a new name to make them happy, even after the danger is past. Things like Merilwen's Meat-Grinder also strike me this way -- specifically, her willingness to do massive damage to save the party and subsequent discomfort with having done it, even though she doesn't care that much about the people who were hurt even after having done it. "Fair and loyal" seems like a good way to sum up her morality in general. Her being so close to Dob and understanding each other so well also adds to this (even if a lot of that likely has to do with Ellen and Luke (who plays Dob) being so close as much as anything, but if I try to separate out things that are OOC-influence I will be here forever).

I'm torn between the foundational Secondaries for her: Bird, or Badger. There is something about her likelihood to fall back on "I turn into a [cat/bear/octopus]" as a plan that feels a little Bird-like to me -- that fallback on the favored, most well-used, best-understood tools, even in situations where it takes a little forcing to make them fit. On the other hand, she seems to be the one most likely to see a job that's not being done as part of the plan, and go fill that role. She's certainly steady, trustworthy, quiet, and consistent. I don't think she has a problem with shortcuts on many things, but could see her raising objections about things she actively cares about. She also often solves things by connecting with animals, which fits when you consider her people/community largely being animal-based. I'm still a little back and forth on this, but in the end, I'm going to lean towards a Badger Secondary.

Prudence, tiefling warlock I'm having a hard time putting my finger on Prudence. I think this is partly Jane's play style -- I feel like she's the least likely to go into what's going on in Prudence's head or why she's doing things, and she doesn't really have a driving goal we're aware of except "do things to make Cthulhu pleased", but that's mostly along the way. She's not a Badger. I would lean towards not a Lion; I guess it's possibly she's a Lion whose gut morality is about hedonism, "I should have what I want", or something like that, but I really don't get the impression that she has much of an internal morality overall. "Some things are just wrong and you can't talk your way out of it" (to quote the Lion/Gryffindor Primary page) absolutely does not sound like something Prudence would ever thing.

So again we're between the decided Primaries: Bird or Snake? I could see her being a Bird, but I have no idea what her truth is at this point. Still, I want to lean towards Snake Primary, specifically one that was burnt. We're going into how-IC-was-this-anyway territory here again, but there's a moment early on, in Brawl of the Wild, where Jane is narrating Prudence hurling herself in front of two of the others and stops mid-narration to ask "wait, why am I doing that" -- it feels incredibly like a Snake who's found themselves unburning while they weren't paying attention and now is trying to figure out how this happened. She's also pretty open with how fond she is of the party, pleased as punch when Corazón burns down the house of a guy who's an asshole to her, even more pleased when Egbert seems corruptible, seems genuinely happy that the group has gotten more lax about killing, and of course there's "You'll never leave me, Corazón, I'll kill you first" and hugging the Egbert-statue after he's been kidnapped when no one can see her.

But more than the party, what makes me lean towards Snake is her relationship with her warlock patron. There's nothing cold, nothing business-like, it's not even worshipful: Cthulhu-dad is kind of a joke, but... it's also not? Even if the actual fatherly-ness of it can be read as joking, she still genuinely seems to have warm, loving feelings for him, and that particular set-up really strikes me a loyalist thing.

(That gives us an all-loyalist party, but honestly, considering they're not the most moral people around and how quickly they all bond... that kind of works?)

Bird Secondary -- her plans tend to be the most practical, she has her favored methods for handling things, and her interest in all things magic strikes me as very Bird-with-a-favorite-thing. Her Bird seems pretty good at reading people, too, particularly knowing the party's strengths -- which is often chaos and making things up. She's not quite a rapid-fire as Corazón, but she's pretty good on her feet if need be... it's just that her lack of interest in what's morally right means the plan she usually pulls out is "eldritch blast". To be fair, it usually works.

IN SUMMATION:

Corazón: Snake Primary/Bird Secondary (possible Snake performance)

Dob: Badger Primary/Snake Secondary (possible Badger model)

Egbert: Snake Primary (attempting to model the Order and possibly Shattershield's Lion Primary, which comes off weirdly Badger-ish in the end)/Lion Secondary

Merilwen: Badger Primary (whose "people" are animals, the elf community she grew up in, and now the Oxventurers)/Badger Secondary

Prudence: Unburning Snake Primary/Bird Secondary

OXVENTURE IN THE DARK BONUS ROUND:

Very recently they've begun an Oxventure spin-off series, playing Blades in the Dark instead. We're only two episodes in, and since part of the plan is to rotate who's in each episode, most of them are only in one -- and since we've gotten so little of the new group, and so much can change as the players learn their characters and find their feet, I can't confidently sort them right now. But I think it'd be interesting to share some initial impressions and see how they hold up down the line. Spoilers for both episodes if anyone's behind, I'll put Lillith and Barnaby last just to be sure.

Edvard: If Edvard the inventor is not a Bird Secondary, I will eat my hat. I could see him going the way of the traditional SHC impulsive scientists who do things For Science, and ending up in Lion/Bird territory, or going towards Bird/Bird; at the moment I don't think he'll be a loyalist, but we'll see!

Zillah: I think we know less about Zillah than anyone else at this point, but we do know that, one, she's doing crime to get money for her family, and two, she seems pretty level-headed. I'm thinking maybe a Lion Secondary, leaning away from Bird Primary but at this point could see anything else.

Kasamir: Between his class/playbook being about having his fingers in a lot of crime pies, Johnny saying he's not really good at anything besides crime, and his slight mentor-y vibe in episode one, I'm getting Badger Secondary or Bird Secondary vibes -- leaning Badger right now, but we'll see. (I'm also getting Mozzie-from-White-Collar-but-more-physical vibes, but I cannot find the sorting that Moz used to be under, unfortunately. I want to say either Badger/Bird or Bird/Badger.) He doesn't strike me as a Lion Primary at this point, but we'll see.

Lillith: I was going to say Bird Secondary because she's leaning so hard into the intellectual, but so far she has tried to solve problems by befriending a ghost girl and convincing the workers to start a union so.... I'm feeling some Badger/Lion or Lion/Badger vibes coming off her at this point. She might slide into a more Bird-y role in the future, or it might end up looking more like a model.

Barnaby: Despite having gotten through two episodes now basically saving the day by being himself, I don't get Lion Secondary vibes from him -- actually, I'm thinking he could end up a Badger Secondary, just extremely far on the Courtier Badger side of the scale, and one that’s very full of himself. Not sure on that yet, though. Primary: no idea, but probably not Badger.

#sorting hat chats #oxventure #i should probably wait til it's not 6:30 am; reread this; and make it shorter #but screw it! have my rambling!#if you read all this you get a cookie #but it's out of my head now at least #there are many other sortings i'd like to do #we'll see if i ever get to them

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