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merakiui · 11 months ago

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never-ending noctuary; love forevermore.

yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, somnophilia, non-con, overblot!malleus, obsession, breeding, baby-trapping, malleus is written to have two dicks, spoilers for part two of book seven note - and sitting powerful on his throne of thorns, omniscience at his fingertips, the lord of malevolence takes a bride.

An eerie, all-consuming quiet has fallen over Sage’s Island.

It is frigid and unfriendly like winter. Harsh and oppressive like silence. Painful and abrasive like brambles. Time has come to a swift halt here, and with it the people fall into never-ending euneirophrenia. Delights so dreamy shall inhabit the minds of all who sleep, the grandest gift granted to those unwilling. Like fate itself, wound around every living soul, it is inescapable. Inevitable like death—unfair and unforgettable.

But then it is also peaceful and secure. Quaint and warm like a blanket. Fluffy and floral like spring’s first kiss. Solace is far sweeter when spent in oneiric solitude, and so it will seem for one-thousand years. Forevermore, stretched taut into the future, the dream persists.

Is that not the best blessing? To those who wish to savor a fleeting moment just a second more, is this not a wish granted generously tenfold? Rather than immortalizing the past with photographs, it shall never come to pass. There is no need for bittersweet recollections or tearful farewells. The present will persevere, lived out in endless dreams.

Surely this is the correct course. Not just for Malleus, for he is a gentle, kind creature who recognizes the mutual desire for interminable merriment, but for the entirety of the island. Although in hoping for love forevermore, he has shackled himself to selfish, Epicurean pleasures. The type which normally lasts as long as a vision spent on cloud nine.

Currently, sitting proud and alone on a cold throne, Malleus knows of no greater joy.

The party may have fallen still as the grave, bodies slumbering in stiff propinquity, but it hasn’t finished. The food may have congealed, inedible and decaying, but it is there. A testament to spirits kept aloft, if only to ensure no one ever knows the desolation of endings.

Paradise is what you make of it. Thus, should you hope for it, you can walk on the clouds in your mind and never know of Icarus’s plights. You can shed insecurities and anxieties and taste delectable metamorphosis. You can be anyone and anything. You can be strong and wealthy. You can be fearless and heroic. You can be an impossible ideal.

You can be loved.

Malleus watches your seemingly lifeless form splayed on the sofa, limbs draped over that of Ace and Deuce. It’s a tranquil sight, a marionette freed from the strings of somber, suffocating life.

Under a roof of thorns, you are reborn.

Paradise is wondrous for Malleus, albeit a touch silent. He wonders what you might say if you were to stand at his side and observe this eternal slumber party. Would it fill you with awe? With appreciation? With abject terror?

Perhaps there is no use in theorizing. He doesn’t need to know, for you will love him even in sleep.

He rises, taking each step at a time. Thorny branches and roots part to make way for him, a groom traversing the aisle in search of his bride. You lie still, secrets sealed behind pretty, plush lips, and if he was not the cause for your current state he might assume you were late.

But there is no death here. It cannot reach. It will never reach because Paradise knows not of death or suffering.

Paradise is the garden before the infestation. Paradise is the body before bacterial devastation. Paradise is love before departed lamentation.

Malleus gazes at your restful face, leaning down to trace a clawed, blot-tainted finger along your cheek. There are no tears; you are a doll incapable of such sorrow, sculpted to portray perfect neutrality. He is most pleased with this development, his chest rumbling with a triumphant chuckle. Now you shall never know an ending ever again. Now you shall remain here, safe and stagnant in his arms, far from the mirror that may allow you to return home.

Gathering your body in his arms, he lifts you from the cushions. You crumble in his grasp, head lolling and arms noodling at your sides. Sagging dead weight, but he places his ear to your chest to listen to the melodic thrum of your heart. You’re alive, frailty shielded from the horrors of the world. Here, in thorny idyll, you will live forevermore.

Historically, all rulers must have someone to call their own. Whether it be by way of arrangement or convenience, strung together for the sake of conjoined power or out of obligation, this is an irrefutable fact. Historically, all rulers must bear an heir—someone to carry on the glory of an ever-present lineage.

Malleus refuses to bring a child into the world unless they are given the blessing of the one thing he was deprived of since birth.

A mother.

You fit in his embrace, a puppet tugged into a one-sided waltz. He steps over fallen bodies as he holds you against his chest, following the routine even though you aren’t awake to reciprocate.

Historically, a married pair must share the first dance. Or that’s what he’s read in fairy tales.

There are no rings here; promises are left unspoken. He won’t entertain rejection because there is no room for it in Paradise. Every unsavory, horrid thing—pestilence and pain, death and destruction, and sadness and sin—is packed away in Pandora’s box and shelved. Malleus won’t risk opening it to release the tiny shred of hope desperately clawing for escape. It’s not worth it.

He will foster his own hope if he must, and she exists in his arms—beautifully motionless.

The steps are executed with care, up the stairs and towards a lonesome chair. He attempts a twirl, lowering you into a dip. Your arms hang limply, eyes shut in permanence. Brimming with fondness, Malleus tugs you back up to press his lips to your forehead.

“Dearest one,” he mumbles, “may you know many fruitful fantasies in the arms of Morpheus.”

He reclaims his seat and situates you to face him while perched on his lap. You slump against him, near-boneless. He smiles at you, imagining the ruckus that would certainly come about from such a daring gesture. Sebek would squawk at you to have more respect and dignity. Silver would tut and shake his head. Lilia would look on in amusement.

These are small pleasantries, little wishes he hopes to witness someday.

Historically, a married pair must consummate their bond.

Malleus’s fingertips flit across your figure, feeling fabric beneath his palms. He tries to exercise restraint and take it slow—everything in moderation, Lilia would remind him—but he can’t contain his nympholepsy. Your clothes are discarded at once, shredded to scraps in his haste. He moves clumsily, following the searchlight of intrinsic ardor. You’re softer when bare, he observes, peeling your bra from your skin. A pallid hand presses down onto your breast, the pudge of which caves beneath his fingers. He withdraws and it bounces back to its shape.

Fascinating, he marvels with wide, enchanted eyes.

Claws tweak at your hardened nipples next. He’s careful because you’re notably weaker. Even in sleep, he must mind his hedonism. Too much and you will break. Too little and he’ll be left unsatisfied. Malleus watches your expression. It was mostly neutral, but now your eyebrows are twitching in response to his touch.

In sleep, you are the most vulnerable.

He knows this because he’s peered in from afar, admiring you through a glass barrier while you slept unaware in Ramshackle. He would never do anything without invitation. Though it may not be in writing, your body is oh-so-inviting. And he indulges because he’s only known this fervor in the deepest, darkest dreams.

Curiously, in his pursuit of passion, Malleus happens upon the special space between your legs. Delicate like a flower, it’s the prettiest part of your anatomy. If he wishes to connect with you, to tie himself to you in unholy communion, he must acquaint himself with this sliver of seventh heaven. He’s never seen one up close; the sight is foreign but very welcome. He drinks it in, burning your form into his retinas. Two fingers trace your labia, stroking along flowery folds in V-shaped strokes. You twitch in his arms, an unconscious, knee-jerk reaction.

At some point, in the middle of his experimental exploration, Malleus begins to hum. It’s a soft, genial lilt. Low and soothing, the lullaby fills the silent halls of Diasomnia’s common room like poison gas.

He contemplates whether this is enough. Can you feel these sensations even when you’re so deep in your dreams? Perhaps so, for when he brushes back the hood protecting your clit to rub at it you soak his fingers. Lubricious, your wetness shimmers on his fingertips when he pulls them away to admire the very essence of you. Without hesitation, he places his fingers on the pad of his tongue to clean both. It’s a divine taste, proof of pleasure.

You cannot speak, so instead your body does so for you. A most bewitching behavior.

Malleus’s hand slithers back towards home, his fingers sliding in with surprising ease. Gummy walls cling to slender digits, embracing the intrusion as if it’s meant to be. With each pump of his fingers, your body warms. The sinful squelch of scissoring fingers joins his humming in a salacious song. Every now and then, you spasm in his arms, your lips parting ever so slightly to release a sigh or a breathy moan. It’s musical, a whimsy he’s only just discovered.

“My beautiful bride,” Malleus croons, “you will know love in my arms. Love forevermore, here in this sanctuary. Fear not, for I have done away with all that may terrify and traumatize.”

Pressure is straining beneath the belt, an itch that must be promptly dealt with. Removing his fingers, he shifts you on his lap so that he may free his cocks from confinement. Twin monstrosities curve towards his stomach; perhaps you’d have been frightened if you were awake to behold them. His hand settles on the small of your back, steadying you as he lines one of them up with your body. The tip just reaches past your navel. For a moment, Malleus ponders whether he might break you.

Careful now, he can hear Lilia’s chiding. Impatience will lead to injury.

He heeds the unspoken warning, lifting you with both hands until the head of his cock is kissing your pussy. And then, slowly, he lowers you down onto him. Your pussy stretches around him, a snug squeeze that only grows tighter with every inch swallowed. Malleus pulls you flush against his chest when he’s halfway slotted, his breathing staggered. Your body quivers, walls fluttering around him, while his other unsheathed cock presses against your navel. Pre-cum smears on your stomach.

He’s determined to cherish you, thrusting all the way to the hilt after a few determined tries. It’s a firm fit, but it’s still bliss. Hissing through his teeth, brows knitted in concentration, Malleus wraps his arms around you and fucks. Mindless, mostly, but with the intent to reach the only acceptable end here: orgasmic ecstasy. He makes up for the lack of motion on your part by moving his hips to meet yours as he rocks you up and down. Whimpers slip past your lips; he shushes you with song, humming through groans and grunts.

This is love.

Malleus thinks so when he positions your hands over his other untouched cock. The illusion doesn’t last long because your hands are quick to fall away. Instead, he grasps your hand, guides it back to his shaft, and pumps himself using your precious palm for friction.

You’re bounced up and down in a parody of consensual copulation. Malleus dwells in imagination, picturing you in a wedding gown. He considers what you might say, the vows you would undoubtedly swear, and the sweet nothings you’d exchange late into the evening. He’d twirl you across an elegant ballroom while everyone looks on with tender adoration and reverence. He’d show you the stars hanging just within reach, and when you’re swept up in riveting romance the sky is tangible and dreams are spun from sugar.

He’d place you on his bed, stripping you of your dress, hands trailing up to tug the frilly garter from your thigh, and you’d smile at him, open your arms and welcome him with mutual affection. You’d bloom for him like a moonflower, your heart beating in sync with his, as he fulfills the final promise—one so bodily imperative. An oath to disturb desolate halls with noise. To hear the pitter-patter of tiny footfalls upon stone floors—he can’t imagine anything more harmonious.

You would soften throughout the months, bright with that foretold pregnancy glow. He would press his hands to your rounded belly and feel squirming within, restless kicks and nudges. You’d discuss potential names over breakfast, and he would hover even though he knows you’re plenty capable. But he worries because you’re so fragile and fleeting. So pretty. So round with child. He wouldn’t leave you alone for a moment; you’re far too enchanting. Perhaps, in some distant future, he’ll lower to the height of your stomach and sing to the baby.

A smile would tug at your lips and you’d reach down to pat his head, running your fingers over his horns. And then—

Malleus cracks his eyes open, his breath hot against your face. His chest heaves as he comes down from the high of domestic daydreams to find your stomach spattered with cum. Swallowing thickly, he peers between your bodies at your pussy stretched around his other cock.

Oh, he came inside.

Unexpectedly. Or perhaps not, for this was his intention. But once is not nearly enough, and he must fill you until you’re fit to burst—until it’s biologically certain you’re pregnant.

An emotion flickers on your face. Malleus mistakes it for jubilation, the type which calls forth a sunshower on your cheeks. He kisses the tears trailing down your face, ending at your lips for a chaste peck.

This is not the finale. It is simply the beginning.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus draconia x reader #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus #n/sfw #tw: noncon #tw: breeding #tw: baby trapping #tw: somnophilia

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violenteconomics · 6 months ago

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the first-years accidentally enter a Sage's Island singing competition, because yuu saw the words "participation money" on the poster and signed them up immediately because the vacation fund, you guys, THE VACATION FUND-- (different au from the restaurant, btw)

the contest is through video submissions, so yuu brings all the first-year together to pump out a semi-decent, story-driven music video (think "last friday night" by katy perry -- a mix of story cutscenes and actual dancing). they used to dabble in making original music back home, so they write up a quick, catchy song, and assign everyone their roles.

after the whole fairy gala thing, jack and ortho are very adept at making walking/flying look fabulous, and so they're the main stars for the acting segments. ortho is also in charge of the technical parts: providing equipment, editing, etc. jack is very embarrassed over the idea of being in a music video that a bunch of people will see, but after he sees leona eat a mouse off the floor because he was too lazy to pick up the plate of food ruggie left for him, he decides he really needs his vacation as soon as possible. same for ortho, except he had to watch idia heat up a cup of ramen, drop the whole thing on the ground, and then proceed to still eat it anyway.

since ace actually knows what people like, he's in charge of planning and directing the choreography and writing the story. he's a little bitchy about it, but he's good at what he does, and not nearly as bad as vil, so... little mercies.

being strong enough to carry the heavy equipment, sebek is the one in charge of actually recording the video itself. he's ALSO in charge of making the costumes, being the only one with enough determination to study for five nights straight on modern fashion trends and... y'know, being the only person out of the seven who knows how to sew, lol. being the emotional, sensitive guy he is, he's also in charge of the lighting and the overall aesthetic of the video, knowing exactly which elements will evoke what response in people (aka, he throws a bunch of things at the wall and sees which one makes him cry the hardest). don't worry-- yuu keeps him from plastering malleus's face all over it.

that leaves epel and deuce to be the dancers. luckily, the choreography isn't nearly as... bubblegum pop, i guess, as "absolutely beautiful", so it doesn't take a whole lot of convincing for them to do it. deuce, like jack and ortho, isn't entirely sure of being on camera, but then trey gets called back to the queendom by a family emergency, and the whole dorm goes to shit and somehow catches on fire, soooooo...

at the end, they submit their video, and grab their participation money. and they honestly think that's the end of it...

...until they get an email saying they won first place, the video blows up on TwistTube, articles start getting written analyzing the metaphors and complex story in the video, and now eric venue is coming to sage's island to see if they'd be willing to do a promotional music video for a movie he's producing.

uhhhhh... whoops?

#twisted wonderland #twst first years #twst #ace trappola #deuce spade #epel felmier #jack howl #ortho shroud #twst yuu #sebek zigvolt #seven-man band

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vidals-harkness · 1 month ago

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hey! Could I make a request of more agathario as users mothers? Reader goes with Agatha on the witches road and they reunite with mami Rio? And reader is young? Thanks!🤍

hola mi vida (agatha harkness, rio vidal)

summary: when mama takes you with her on the witch’s road, what can she do when you meet your mami again, after all the years of her vanishing?

fic type: fluff

pairings: agatha harkness x child!reader, rio vidal x child!reader

word count: 2.3k

It was just a normal afternoon—the air was calm, quiet, cool with the shy onset of autumn. The park was not deserted, as you sat on the swings, using a stick to trace patterns on the ground. Or rather, Wiccan symbols that the town children always saw you making (and made a point to stay away from you about).

It was only when you skipped home, sage and stick in hand, that you saw the door blown down, a random boy in the hallway all tied up, and your mother going off her rocker.

“Mama?” You questioned, confused.

“No time to talk, hon, grab that bag and let’s get in the car,” she said, pointing at your school bag on a chair.

“But mama we don’t—“ you began, confused, but she simply grabbed your bag, picked you up and whisked you away into the car. Or rather, Teen’s car.

“You trust me?” She asked, buckling you in.

You nodded, fidgeting with your stick. “Mhm,” you hummed.

She smiled and winked, linking her pinky with yours, kissing it gently. “Mama always protects you, okay?”

“Okay,” you giggled.

“So…she’s yours?” Teen asked, pointing at you in the backseat where you sat, playing with some sort of wooden puzzle from your bag.

“No,” Agatha said, sarcastically. “I picked up a random six year old in the park cause I’m a pedophile,”

At his gobsmacked expression, she frowned, irritated, “Of course she’s mine, pet, look! Don’t you see the resemblance?”

You look at Teen through the rearview mirror and smiled angelically. Apart from maybe your facial structure you took after Rio more than her.

“Doesn’t matter, just drive,” she sighed, irritated.

The first stop was Lilia’s house, which seemed like a nice place. Except the energy felt a little too buzzed for your liking.

“Alright hon, you don’t talk unless I tell you to, okay?” Agatha said, kneeling at your level, a smile on her face. “And if Mama makes a silly voice, you don’t question it,”

You nodded, smiling at her. “Okay, mama!”

“That’s my girl,” she said, pinching your cheek gently, standing up and putting her hair in a bun before wrapping a shawl around her shoulders.

The place was as odd as its energy, with you disliking the sound of clattering beads from the bead curtain, hand holding your favourite stick (rather a crooked wand Agatha didn't use anymore).

"Welcome to the curious," said Lilia, appearing from the back room.

You looked at the lady, frowning, "You're kooky,"

"Now, now, sweetheart, we ain't rude to the nice lady," Agatha spoke in a thick Southern accent. "Good day, madam, Oh. Thank you so much for seein’ us. We are hopin’ for a miracle today,"

You looked at Agatha weirdly, confused with her accent. She never talked like this usually...did she?

"This is my boy, Beauford, and my princess Charlotte here," she smiled, pointing at you both. When Teen went to protest, she shut him up, "He doesn’t talk much. He’s got social anxiety. Their daddy recently passed, and we miss him somethin’ awful."

A long while and several witches later, you stood in Agatha's basement with the other witches, happily vibing with their rendition of the Ballad. However, just as the door made itself known, the Salem Seven crashed into the house, Teen coming downstairs in a flurry of panic to scoop you up and dash down the Road's entrance.

The first trial passed, with only one casualty--Mrs. Davis, but it left you mostly shaken up. You had never seen so many witches hallucinate single-handedly before.

The forest was quiet, the only sound being that of the shovel scraping the ground as Teen dug a grave for Mrs. Hart.

You knelt next to the dead woman, tilting your head as you peered at her, poking her with your stick gently.

“Mama?” You asked, looking at Agatha. “Mama, she feels very not-alive,”

“Yeah hon,” she smiled, side-eyeing Jen. “Because Jen didn’t give her enough antidote so she is now not-alive,”

“Are you really badmouthing me to a six year old, Agatha?” Jen deadpanned. “How petty can you be?”

“Very, apparently,” Lilia rolled her eyes.

“Kooky lady is correct,” you nodded, earning a snicker from Alice.

“I’m not kooky!” Lilia scowled at you, only to receive an angelic smile in return.

You hummed to yourself as you walked around the clearing while the adults and Teen argued.

At the mention of an incomplete coven, you tugged at Agatha’s sleeve, asking softly, “Mrs. Hart wasn’t a witch, so if this is the Witch’s Road, can’t you call for a green witch?”

“Yes, thank you, little one!” Teen said, pointing at you. “How does a six year old have more brains than you all combined?”

“People have told me I’m something called ‘insightful’,” you shrugged.

“More like irritating,” Lilia scowled, looking at you.

“She isn’t the one bickering like a bunch of old ladies, is she?” Agatha shrugged. “Now come on, we have a spell to cast. Vamonos,”

You skipped after her, excitedly, helping her map out the person shape on the ground with your stick.

“Am I helping nice, mama?” You asked her, grinning proudly.

She nodded, fixing the outline, kneeling at the border of it. “Oh absolutely, sweet girl. The most helpful out of all these idiots,”

You smiled angelically, making her mutter, “You sure as hell didn’t get that smile from me, that’s for sure,”

As the witches gathered to start their spell, you stood with them—young magic was the most effective, honestly.

“May she be strong and wise, and the best at her craft,” said Lilia, placing down a crystal.

“May she be smart and not annoying,” said Agatha, placing another thing down, adding, “And also, not super political,”

“May she be pleasant looking,” said Jen, wrinkling her nose.

“Can she bring some Advil?” Alice sighed, placing her crystal down.

“Can she annoy the kooky lady?” You asked as Agatha tapped your shoulder to put your offering down. “May she be…fun,”

“I’m not kooky!” Lilia snapped at you.

“Are too!” You giggled, sticking your tongue out at her.

“Y/n, for the love of god just behave,” Agatha sighed. “I can’t deal with this right now,”

“Now what?” Teen interjected.

“Now we wait,” said Lilia. “True witchcraft takes time. The spell must marinate, gestate—“

She was interrupted by a hand sticking out of the mud behind you all, causing a scream to erupt from everyone.

Agatha shoved you back, arms out protectively as you giggled excitedly at the sight.

“Agatha, what did you do?!” Jen exclaimed.

“What do you mean, what did I do? This was very clearly a group effort!” She protested.

“It’s so silly!” You squealed, laughing at the cracking noises the witch’s bones made as she emerged from the ground.

“Your kid is a psycho like you!” Jen said, judging you as you laughed like this was a particularly funny episode of Bluey.

“She’s got character!” Agatha retorted sharply.

“Oh, my God, did we turn Mrs. Hart into a zombie?” Teen exclaimed.

“What spell did we cast?” Alice cried out.

Panicked and looking into Teen’s spell book. “Why is the print so small?” She wailed.

The witch righted herself, and you peeked from behind Agatha, intrigued and suddenly elated to see who it was.

Mami.

“MAMI!” You squealed, about to run to Rio, happy beyond belief.

“Heard you guys were having a party?” Rio gasped. She looked over at you, winking, “Hola nena,”

“How did you…” Agatha breathed, horrified, keeping you back despite your indignant squirming.

“I was in the neighborhood,” she gasped, opening her palm to reveal a flower. “Surprise. My lady,”

Agatha snatched the flower, screamed, and tried to attack her, but everyone held her back, Jen and Alice keeping her in check.

“We just summoned her!”

“We need her,”

As Agatha stormed off, Teen followed. You didn’t care about her little temper tantrum. It wasn’t the first you’d seen her have.

You were more concerned about Rio.

She was your Mami, the one who would play pranks on Agatha with you, the one who could calm you down in even the worst meltdowns, the one who accompanied you to the park every time the bullying got bad. Your Mami.

You hugged her tightly. She smelt the same, she felt the same. She was soft, she was the comforting kind of cold. She smelt like earth and old books and cinnamon, a scent so familiar that it made you bury your face into her robe to simply take in her scent.

“Nena,” she laughed. “You got so big,”

“I’m six, mami!” You gave her a broad grin, looking up at her.

“I guess we know now where the psycho comes from,” Jen muttered.

“Hey, what’s up, I’m Rio,” she said, nodding at them, still holding you close.

The three gave her a quiet, somewhat terrified and awkward greeting, before she gave them a cheeky grin and went after Agatha.

“So what do you think, can we trust her?” Alice asked.

“Agatha hates her, I’d say that goes in the ‘pro’ column,” Lilia shrugged.

“I mean…the kid thinks she’s legit,” Alice noted.

“The kid’s as psycho as she is,” Lilia scoffed. “Like calls to like and all that,”

“You’re just salty cause she calls you kooky,” Alice grinned.

“I’m not!”

Meanwhile, you walked with Rio, playing with her fingers gently as you talked her ears off.

The conversation eventually took a serious turn as you both paused and waited for the others.

“Mami,” you said, kicking a stone as you walked with her. “Mami, why did you leave me and go? Did I do something? Did mama? Did Nicky?”

Rio sighed. She knew this question was inevitable. She couldn’t avoid it, she knew that.

She stopped and knelt to your height, holding your arms in a gentle grip, making the others pause in their tracks.

Her voice was so soft, so gentle. “Mira, mi amor,” she said softly. “Sometimes…things happen which can’t be fixed unless one person removes themselves from the equation. It was not yours or Nicky’s fault, alright?”

She sensed your apprehension. An apprehension that broke her heart because she didn’t want to leave. She had to. She had no choice.

“Is it a grown up thing?” You whispered, voice barely audible.

“It is, nena,” she nodded. “But you’re still a little girl, you’re small. You won’t understand even if I explained it simply. I want you, my smart, sweet girl, to know that mami going away was not your fault,”

She thought before adding, “I am sorry for leaving, though. Mi vida, lo siento,”

It made you feel better, indeed. “It’s okay, Mami,” you smiled. “I’m happy you’re with me now,”

She grinned and scooped you up, putting you in her shoulders deftly, making you squeal with happiness. There she was, fun Mami. Your Mami.

“Come on now, let’s make some trouble,” she grinned up at you, winking. “Mami’s not going anywhere anytime soon,”

“What if I get hurt?” You asked quietly.

“Then mami’s always here to protect you,” she grinned, squeezing your hand gently.

You nodded, trusting her words.

The Road was long and it was hard.

But maybe things wouldn’t be too bad.

Mami and Mama protected you. Always.

hi hi my bao buns! i hope you enjoyed it! it was quite long, i must say, haha. do request more and i’m working on the rest currently!

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #alice wu gulliver #lilia calderu #rio vidal x reader #agathario #agathario x reader #agathario x child!reader #fluff #fem!reader #child!reader

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obsessedwrhys · 4 months ago

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ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ AMERICAS SWEET-TARDs

ᯓ★ Homelander is forced to babysit you, the troublemaker of The Seven. Deadpool!reader does not like cooperating, dark humour, goofy stuff, typical cursing, gore, story is set on season 4. Reader is gn (uses they/them pronouns)!!

ᯓ★

How you found yourself in Vought's office is hard to explain. One thing you were bursting into the building of Amazon and the second you're here. You sat on the sofa, looking around as you whistled a tune to save yourself from the boredom.

"Why the fuck am I involved with this?" Your eyes perked up at the distant voices from outside the door.

"I'll explain when we're there"

Oh?

Being the nosy person you are, you got up and pressed the side of your ear against the door to get a better hearing of the conversation.

"Your plan won't come together if you don't settle the pieces in place, and this is your plan so you need to work with me here"

Suddenly it's quiet...

Did they leave?

Before you could react, the door opens and you ended up falling flat on your face. You tilt your head up to see it's Sister Sage and Homelander looking down at you. You chuckle.

"Sooo... you both look angry... did I do something?"

Hearing your question, Sister Sage scoffs at you.

"Did you?? You broke into Amazon's headquarters because they messed up your order. You even threatened to kill their CEO. Do you know how bad that is for the image?"

"I refuse to refer to a person named Jeff Bezo a CEO" You said when you got on your feet while dusting off your knees.

"Besides, I don't have an image. I'm pretty sure that I don't even have a face!!" Hearing your words, Sister Sage can't help but roll her eyes at you.

"Nonono seriously, I do not have a face. All this underneath the mask? It's like smashed up birthday cakes in there—"

"Okay I get it!!" She glares at you... then turning her attention to Homelander who's been listening attentively with his hands behind his back.

"You're babysitting Deadpool" She commanded like an order and he turns to look at her with his brows slightly raised.

"Me?" He said, clearly from his face he looks like he's about to be ticked off.

"Yes, I don't know what is it about them that makes it so hard for me to predict their moves" Just as she said that, she turns to look at you. You bat your eyes at her like a deer caught in headlights.

"Not to mention you're making a shit tons of problems for me to deal with here. You even had Lily be sent for therapy!!" She points at you and you held both your hands up in defeat by the mention of your agent.

"Hey now... All I did was cut off my arm and mailed it to Elon Musk. How else was I gonna give him the middle finger?" Your defense being enough to have her let out a sigh as she looks away.

"I don't care, just don't let them do anything stupid while I go help Firecracker with her script" She said to him and you both watches as she leaves. Once she's gone, he turns to look at you, a displeased expression on his face.

To your surprise, he was really actually TOTALLY doing what she's asking him to. You never saw him take orders like that before, let alone from a WOMAN.

"What was that?!" You exclaimed, both arms thrown towards the hallway where Sister Sage is seen to be walking down.

"What happened to Misogyny?! You're really just gonna let that happen???" You looked at him but he just rolls his eyes at you.

"Shut up. She's done more than you've ever did compared to your years here" He walks past you and ends up sitting down on the sofa. You don't say anything while you watch him go.

You're aware that your inability to die makes him bored of you but you didn't think he'd find you this boring.

Honestly it kinda hurts...

Because now you're gonna have to do more crazy shit to piss him off.

You cleared your throat as you forced up a smile.

"You know what, great talk. I'm gonna go be a good citizen now—"

"You step one foot out of this room and I'll lazer off two of your fucking legs"

"..."

With no idea how to respond to the threat. You stood at the door, looking down at your legs then back up at him... before taking a wide step out of the room.

He let's out an annoyed groan.

"Look I don't see why all of a sudden, you two, give the slightest shit about what I do. Has it ever occurred to you that this is my coping mechanism after YOU SLAUGHTERED NOIR—"

"Oh for christ sake, cry me a fucking river"

"You sure you really want that? 'Cause trust me I can cry the entire Nile river in this very room— and I can't promise you it'll be water" He looks at you and you look back at him, your body still standing a few feet away from the room.

"You done whining?" He asks, his expression showing not even the least of interest in your act. You let out an offended sound.

"Am I done whining?! Do you even know me?? That's LITERALLY all I do!!"

Clearly feeling hurt, you began to storm off. From the distant you could hear Homelander let out an exhausted sigh but you could care less right now.

Man if only you could go back to the first day where you two met.

Oh how traumatised he looked when he saw you cut your ears off in an attempt to escape Stillwell's welcoming speech.

Once you made it to the ground floor, you kicked the entrance door open with your chest slightly puffed out.

Who the hell does Ms. Know-It-All thinks she is to have any authority over you? You're the original member of The Seven for fuck sake.

"Holy shit it's Deadpool!!" A fan, seemingly a teenager points at you and you turned towards their group with your most charming smile.

"Hey now, try not to cream your pants... if you've even reached that stage yet..." Without even letting a second pass, the group stands around you as the one at the front takes out their phone for a selfie.

"Say Chimichangas!!" You said, holding up peace signs.

"Chimichangas!!"

⊹FLASH⊹

Once the picture is taken, the fans are quick to check the results while you scratched the itch on your butt. Once satisfied, they gave you their thanks before walking away.

At the same time you could hear the sound of Homelander approaching you from behind. You let out an annoyed groan before turning to face him but before you could even react, he grabs you roughly by the jaw.

"Years of your shit and you still won't learn your fucking place. If I say something. You do it. Understand?" He glares at you, his teeth gritted as his lips formed his signature psychotic grin.

You stare back and you could feel from his grip that you were being slightly lifted off the ground.

"Well excuse me, my liege. I must have missed the memo about being your personal slave. Is it too late to withdraw my contract?" He stares at you... before letting go of you while looking away out of despise.

"You're a cancer on this earth" He said as he's busy wiping his glove clean on his chest. You simply laugh at his remark.

"AH HAHaa hoo... well... you can always count on me to pop up unannounced" You shoot him a wink and decided to walk away, not really caring much of the consequences if you did.

Seeing you walk away like he's nothing, Homelander clenches his jaw out of irritation.

"You're always testing my patience (Y/N)" He said and you instantly stopped walking when you hear him addressing you by your real name.

"Uuugggh seriously? You ran out of tricks so now you're using my government name? You've gone old, John" You fold your arms as you turned to face him.

Noticing the angry look on his face, you are almost not surprised with what happens next.

⌁ZZZZ⌁

You look down, realising you've been lasered in half. Sounds of people nearby screaming was like background noise for you because you were too focused watching your upper half slide off your lower half... then eventually falling to the ground. You grunt from how annoying the situation has become.

"Ah great... now I'm half the person I used to be..." You partially joked as Homelander picked you effortlessly off the ground before taking you back into the Vought Tower.

"Can you at least tell me why you're taking away my rights as a republican?" You asked with your upper half being carried over his shoulder.

"You don't matter enough to know" He says.

After shooting several finger guns at the horrified employees passing by, you made it back to the office where all of your problems began. You yelp when Homelander just threw your body parts on the sofa, you turn to face him after your efforts to have yourself sit up straight.

"Jeez, you're about as exciting as a stale piece of bread" You said and he takes the sofa in front of you. For a couple of seconds he doesn't say anything but watch you with a stoic expression.

You interrupt the silence with a cough.

Then it's silent again.

.....

Okay this is too boring.

"Could you laser me again for entertainment—? Since you're such a buzz kill it can't be hard" You asked but he stays quiet, not saying anything to add fuel to your fire of words.

Once you realise what he's doing, you let out a long groan.

"Where's my Katana? I might as well just kill myse—"

"How are you not worried about all of this?" He interrupts you and your body freezes in place just as you're about to reach for your weapons.

"How is it that everyone's going through a fucking crisis and you're just... jacking off and watching Netflix series like somebody's drunk unc" He stares at you, slight glimpse of envy shown in his eyes. You scoff out of disbelief before laughing and wheezing uncontrollably.

"Well, unlike some people— UHMUHMyouUHMUHM , I happen to know how to unwind and have fun. Maybe you should try it sometime. Might loosen that stick up your ass" You shoot him a smile and you could feel your powers growing back the bottom half of your body.

He snarls at you.

"I'm the Homelander. I'm the strongest being ever. I don't have time to unwind"

"I don't know man what kind of strongest being brags about being the strongest?" You said with your back pressed against the cushion of the sofa, your hand just casually toying with your dagger.

"DON'T YOU—"

Just as he stands up to shout at you with his eyes now glowing red, the door to the office opens and you both turn to see it's Sister Sage. She looks at you, somewhat an unsurprised reaction to your torn off body parts.

"Great, at least you're not off running to harass another important client of ours"

"Are we done?" Homelander stands near her, clearly fed up with the time he's spent with you so far.

You groan but this time purposely making it known to everyone in the room.

"Great, now there's two people pinning against me. You know... it wouldn't hurt to tell me what your plan is. Maybe I can help!" You said, putting up your most charming smile.

Sister Sage stares at you... more like judging you but then she had a look of epiphany.

"Actually... hearing you say that... you could be useful... if we can get you to start a hate campaign towards the Starlighters. This could make my part with Firecracker so much easier. And besides! Incels LOVE you. You've practically obtained the based persona. You're the perfect mascot" She said, her eyes sparkling as she's clearly brainstorming now.

Homelander stands there, a plastic grin on his face while he has both his fists placed on his hips.

"What?" He says, his eery grin still on his face. You laugh as you crossed your... baby legs?

"You hear that Johnny? People LOOOVEEE me..." You bragged which instantly ticked him off

"Listen up, you walking STD. The ONLY thing that people love about you is your annoying, obnoxious, unfunny fuck of thinking you're gods gift to comedy"

"Well I did make that comedy christmas movie with Maeve. Rest in peace that poor soul, it's like I can still hear her in my nightmares" You said while pretending to wipe away a tear. He rolls his eyes at you and Sister Sage watches in almost amusement.

Her slight smile making Homelander whip his attention to her immediately.

"Are you fucking enjoying this right now?" He glares and she quickly covers it up with a serious look.

"I'll go prepare the venue" She simply said before walking away. You laugh as you notice Homelander still having that angry look on his face when watching Sister Sage walk away.

"Do you need a snickers little kid? You're not you when you're hunrgy"

⌁ZZZZ⌁

....

"You just had to push my fucking buttons" He said, the red glow in his eyes dimming after lasering a hole through your head. He stares at your corpse that was still for a moment before you flipped him off with both hands.

He rolls his eyes with a defeated sigh before walking out the office.

[The Next Day]

"GOOD MORNING AMERICA!! IT IS ME!! YOUR FAVOURITE SUPERHEROOOOO!!" The crowd goes wild as you make your appearance on stage. Your mic in hand and the other waving at the crowd.

Homelander who's also present at the campaign, watches from the backstage with a stoic expression.

"Now now now! I have been gathered here to talk about the Starlighters! Huh! Yeah?!" You began to shoot finger guns at the crowd when they started booing at the mention of the Starlighters.

"I know!! Terrible people!! Boooo!! Tomato tomato" You chuckled as you walk across the stage.

"I mean how could you cancel the one and only Homelander? He literally has the personality of a wet sock. Dude already has his own demons to battle!! As a matter of fact, what kind of person goes after a father?! It's not our fault your daddy left you Starlight!!" The crowd cheers at your words.

You turn to give Homelander a thumbs up but he just looks at you with an unimpressed look.

The moment your turn of the campaign was over and it was time for Firecracker to do her thing, you happily skipped on your feet to your next destination... but you were soon stopped when you saw Homelander standing in your way. Though it didn't seem to affect at all.

"You should stop frowning if you don't want your face to look like a nut sack" You pat him on the shoulder before walking past him. With your back turned to him, he couldn't help but touch his forehead a bit... then hurrying to catch up to you.

"Where are you going now?"

"Somewhere full of fun that's for sure" You turn the corner and walked a few more before making to your favourite shop.

You stand in front of it while he stands beside you, his expression unreadable.

"A... pet shop?" He was confused but you didn't bother to answer his confusion and decided to just head on in.

He shakes his head out of frustration before entering the place. He's completely frozen in place when he sees you already surrounding yourself with dogs. You laugh almost maniacally as you enjoyed the way the dogs were licking you so joyfully. That was until you notice the way Homelander is staring at you, scorned by your behaviour.

"What? You upset not even dogs love you? God I'm pretty sure not even flies want to come near you" You joked but his attention on you is pulled away when a dog began gnawing at his glove.

He scowls as he decides to move his hand out of the way but the dog ends up jumping on him to try to chew on the glove as if thinking it's a chew toy.

"Nonono— shoo! Go!" He said while sound of your laughter can be heard in the background.

Oh boy...

[The Next Next Day]

How you scored yourself an invite to the Met Gala was unbelievable. But since you were going, Homelander was left with no choice but to accompany you. As you'd expected it, he showed up in his suit. He really doesn't care about this stupid gathering when he has better things to do.

Better things than supervising your ass.

"Make waaaay for your majesty!!" You said loud enough to make your grand entrance known. Cameras all panning towards you in order to take pictures of your outfit.

You were definitely still wearing your iconic red suit but you had worn a sarape over it. As well as a sombrero and the fake moustache to finish the look. And don't forget the guitar now!! Literally nobody knows why you always do shit like this. The theme is literally 'The Garden Of Time'.

"BOOO!!! FUCK YOU DEADPOOL!! YOU'RE A MENACE TO SOCIETY!!" A starlighter said amongst the rest of the protestors. They must have shown up when they heard news of you and Homelander's appearance. You laughed as you waved your hand dismissively at them.

"Oh, come on, don't be so grumpy. I didn't ask to be born this awesome" You said when walking past their group with Homelander following behind you, both hands placed behind his back like he's your bodyguard.

[The Next Next Next Day]

Of course you'd get yourself arrested for doing some crazy shit during the after party. You whine to yourself as you were chained up in the cell. After all you're no regular prisoner but a supe, so they had to treat you like a monster.

Suddenly two armed guards approached your cell, you stared at the cold faces on their faces before inspecting your restraints.

"You know, I always wanted to try bondage, but I didn't think it would be with such an unenthusiastic audience" You said and soon one of them opened the cell to release you from your imprisonment.

You let out a satisfied grunt as you rubbed both of your sore wrists. Just as the two guards left, Homelander came into view. With the annoyed look on his face, you had expected him to at least be happy to see you.

"Why the long face?" You asked when exiting your cell.

"You caused a raid at the after party. What word of do not cause trouble do you not understand?"

"Ahh you people confuse me. Oh Deadpool please rile up the Starlighters! No Deadpool don't punch the Starlighter for spilling your drink on you! Pick a side goddamn it!" You said changing your voice each time when imitating a person.

Homelander rolls his eyes at your attitude.

"I can't wait for this to be over with" Homelander murmured and began walking away. You didn't wait for a second to pass before chasing after him.

"Hey now! I'm literally your only friend left! Maeve got blown into Christmas dust, Noir became jello, The Deep... eh... he's still pretty balls deep inside an octopus, A-Train is busy being in his redemption arc. And Starlight? To be honest I never considered her apart of our friend group" You whispered the last part as though you were gossiping, which you were in the case.

"Lucky me" Homelander said in the most monotone voice it was hard not to miss the absent of emotions in his eyes.

"You're welcome bestie!! #2 bestie though because I've just became friends with Espresso lady last night" You said and quickly took your stuff back from the officer to show the picture of you and Sabrina Carpenter on your phone.

"Ugh..." Clearly not interested, Homelander left you behind but you could care less as you ended up bragging it to the poor police officer just trying to do his job.

[The Next Next Next Next Next Day]

Of course you're a supe so 99% of your job is to have fun while the 1% of your job is saving lives. You laughed as you fought with the group of thieves inside the crowded casino. A feet away stood, you guessed it, Homelander watching with his arms crossed. It looked more like he wanted this to be over with than be concerned for the safety of the civilians.

"Man this place looks great! How did I never knew of this part of the city?" You said looking around the interior design after effortlessly dodging the man's knife which you simply twisted in his hands to stab it right through his chest.

"Can you get away? I'm trying to win here" An old granny spoke when pushing the dead corspe off the gambling machine.

"Oooo... what's this?" Your eyes went wide in awe as you watched her repetitively tap on the button. Years of your life and you never thought of such a divine invention.

"FUCK YOU!!" A thief jumped off a table and onto your back, his knife in hand as he continously stabbed you on the chest.

"Why is it always the bad guys with the lousy gambling habits? Seriously, I could be playing poker right now, and instead, I'm stuck here whooping your asses" You whipped out your gun and shot the man in the face, his grip on you loosening as he falls to the ground.

Clearly knowing they have no chance in winning, they quickly ran but you simply shot each of them from the back until the very last one. With the dead bodies splattered across the casino floor, you spin your pistol around to blow the hot smoke from it.

"They don't call me Deadpool for nothing. Get it? Cause' Dead... pooool" You laughed when motioning at the pool of dead bodies on the ground that some of the bystanders watching and hiding were scared of what to do at the moment.

They also don't call you the insane member of The Seven for nothing.

[The Next Next Next Next Next Next Day]

You yawned with your back pressed on the sofa while Homelander was pretty much glaring daggers down at you. That's because you decided to make yourself feel homey in his room. With how good the leather felt— how could you not?

"Hey Ryan!" You waved at Ryan who awkwardly stops at the mention of his name.

"Hey..." He waves back at you with a nervous smile before hurrying up the stairs.

Even with Homelander pretty much wanting to kill you right now, you still had the mood to stretch all over his sofa. You grunt at the bliss of the feeling. The feeling of relaxation.

"Maaaan! I haven't gotten to rest for the past few days. Makes me wish I was born a rock"

"Why are you even in my room?" He asks, his voice so piercing.

"Eh... Ever head of a sleepover? Don't you wanna put on face masks together and do each other's nails? We ARE besties aren't we? #2 bestie though since Espresso lady—"

"Enough! GET OUT!!" Suddenly he lifts you up and threw you out the window. Ignoring the sounds of screaming and car alarm blaring, he sat down on the sofa with his eyes closed.

Finally... some peace...

[The Next Next Next Next Next Next Next Last Day]

With the responsibility of needing to follow you around to make sure you didn't intervene with Sister Sage's plan, he was starting to lose his sanity, or what's left of it. He sits in his chair with the rest of the members. Apparently you had called for a meeting and you had to specify that it was an important one. About what? Nobody knows.

"Where is Deadpool?" Firecracker asked since everyone had been waiting for almost an hour now. But just as she said that, you arrived, multiple puppies in your arms.

"Hellooooo! Thank you for waiting for me!! I had to drop by the pet shop to adopt these little devils" You said as you handed one to each of them.

"Ooh puppies!" Black Noir said happily when accepting one from you.

"Can you hurry up?" Sister Sage spoke up with the puppy in her hand playfully biting her fingers.

"Yeah yeah don't rush me, don't you know how to respect your elders?" You stood at the center in front of them. Before starting you made sure to clear your throat very thoroughly. All expected you to be serious about what you had to say but suddenly you balled your fists together with your effort of making puppy dog eyes.

"Pleasepleaseplease let me have my freedom back!! I swear I'll be good!!" You begged and Homelander practically stared at you while not giving much care of the puppy gnawing at his glove.

"You know you wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't been constantly breaking all the ties we have with other companies!! Do you know how helpful it could have been if you didn't pull that stunt at the met gala's after party?" Sister Sage said, expressing her frustration towards you but you waved her off dismissively.

"Okay but seriously guys, I appreciate the whole 'let's babysit Deadpool since they're a walking disaster' routine, but it's getting a bit old. I mean, come on, I've been doing the whole vigilante thing for a while now and nobody ever had a problem with it! I was even the host for MTV 2020!!"

"Which they banned you after because you exposed every celebrity there!"

"Not my fault that Ryan Reynolds had a thing for me"

You sighed.

"I'm starting to think you hate me Sage"

"Oh wow I wonder why"

"Nonono it's because I'm so smart that you can't even predict my next moves!!"

"Or maybe, you make the dumbest decisions that even I can't predict them!!"

"Oh please! I'm the Picasso of poor decisions! It's an art form! The only thing predictable is my ability to be unpredictably unpredictable"

Suddenly all attention turned to Homelander the second he let out an annoyed sound.

"... you know what? Fine. Go do your own thing. Bother someone else who gives a shit" He said waving you off and you jumped happily in the air. At the same time, Sister Sage looked at him in disbelief.

"You know they're gonna get in the way of our plans right?"

"Do you wanna babysit them?" He asks which made her stay quiet and simply lean back into her chair.

All of them watched as you happily skipped your way out of the meeting room. As expected, for the next few days you created more problems for everyone to deal with, first you created a line of Deadpool-themed lingerie which the manufacturing had to be shut down because the company you worked with were selling it using fake products, it was so bad that it had influencers calling you out for it.

Then there was the thing where you hired a bunch of hackers to loop baby shark on every TV in America. That nearly got you arrested but Vought being Vought, they managed to bail you out. If it didn't get worse, you also went ahead spraying neon red on the Statue of Liberty and for some reason replaced all billboards with ads featuring a fake upcoming movie called "Deadpool: The Musical".

During those same days, you were away most of the time so when you came back to Vought to find Homelander in his wrecked up room. You decided to sit down beside him on the floor. Everything was destroyed, even the TV screen was smashed but yet it was still playing. You could care less on why he did it. All you cared about was your hungry stomach right now.

"Chimichangas?" You said, offering him one. He looks at you with a blank expression... before taking one and eating it himself.

Eventually you two enjoyed the food peacefully while you leaned your head on his shoulder, a smile on your face and a scowl on his.

#i didnt know where i was going with this lol #i want food #the boys #x reader #the boys x reader #the boys homelander #homelander x reader #homelander #the boys homelander x reader #goofy #sister sage #sister sage x reader #the boys amazon

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naviavu · 5 months ago

Text

Evergreen

PAIRINGS: yandere!alhaitham x reader

TAGS: mild compared to my other works <3, i guess, >:-), obsession, possessive sex, juicy smut, alhaitham is yandere YANDERE, he just wants reader back home :(, sumeru dream team, abuse of power, childhood friends to lovers, kinda, manipulation

WORDS: 4.4k // crossposted on ao3 // my masterlist

NOTES: hope everyone enjoys this dark twist of alhaitham! it's been so long since i wrote for genshin, and i'm not sure how much the tumblr community has changed. regardless, please don't hesitate to drop by my inbox to comment or request! i genuinely missed writing lol <3

You often think that you’re cursed with your work.

(Y/N) of the Akademiya. Graduated early from Vahumana, traveling all over the seven nations to be a teacher and provide impoverished kids with free education. This is the fourth year of your career, and you’re staying in Fontaine– everything is going great.

Until one day, a messenger approached you.

“What do you mean the stakeholders are withholding funds indefinitely?” A chalk breaks under your grip, powder falling to your skirt. You glance quickly outside the tent, careful to not let your students hear you. “That doesn’t make any sense– the Yorun investors are literally from Sumeru! They’re wealthy enough to fund fancier Akademiya projects! ”

The messenger– Jesse, a gentle Fontainian girl much younger than you– avoids eye contact and fiddles with her sling bag. “They insisted that the abrupt change in the sages and Lesser Lord Kusanali’s rise to power caused their resources to become… limited.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit!” You shout. Jesse trembles. You sigh and pat her head. “Sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. Get home safe, alright?”

(She only nods and places the letter on your desk. Before leaving, she turns back and says, “I’m really sorry, Ma’am (Y/N). I also wish that you continue your work. You’ve done a great deal educating kids in this neighborhood… including my brother.”

You give her a sad smile.)

There was no choice. The next day, you taught one last lesson to your students (eleven children from the back alleys of Fontaine, all no older than twelve) and bid your final goodbyes. When they ask where you’re going, you tell them that you’re on for another long journey, and you don’t know when you’ll be back. They gather around and embrace you, small hands all over your body. One of the kids (Jules, one brilliant in maths but not so much in literature. You’ll miss his toothy smile the most) tell you that they will pray to Focalors for your safety. You pat Oli’s head one last time, telling him to be good for his sister Jesse.

A carriage picks you up before sunrise. Your journey to Sumeru was uneventful, and every small bump and thud on the way aggravated you further. You settle for burning holes at the empty seat in front of you.

You enter the city with your head down, walking the familiar steps robotically. You think that you recognize the voices of your old acquaintances and neighbors chattering and laughing, but the haze from your mind (and heart) prevents you from doing the bare minimum of greeting them.

The first step to your wooden porch is a bittersweet homecoming. When you open your front door, the hinges still squeak the same tones before you left.

Your evergreen shrubs haven't grown an inch, as if someone was maintaining them. (You brush off this strange detail.)

Mindlessly staring inside your unkempt house, you decide that if you want to continue your life’s work, you must continue earning money.

(You failed to notice that your doorknob was dust-free.)

You sat down on your old desk and wrote a lengthy letter to the higher-ups for the cause of your arrival, the reason for the halt of your travels, and that you’re looking for a job.

For the rest of the day, you unpack your bags, sweep the floor, and pace restlessly in your living room. It’s been many years since you were in contact with your superiors. The last time you saw them was at your graduation, where everyone expected you to stay in Sumeru and be one of the next candidates for the Sage of Vahumana.

The grip in your broom tightens when you remember as clear as day your professors’ anger and judgment when you declined their offer. Entitled. Ungrateful.

Will they even accept you back? Will they cast you out?

To your surprise, a reply arrived on your doorstep not even a day later. A clean envelope embroidered with green and silver patterns.

You were offered to fill the vacant position of Scribe.

You tell yourself that you’ll adjust eventually.

Seeing the piles of papers and books in front of you, your hand aches a phantom throb. You wonder how your friend Lisa could survive this kind of monotony in Mondstadt. It pays better, sure, and your back and legs won’t hurt as much from traversing landscapes– but it’s still nothing compared to seeing the smile on children’s faces when they finally understand the concepts after a bone-deep, exhausting lesson.

As expected, the stick-thin pen felt too soft on your fingers after a few hours. You were more used to holding chalks or markers. Drafting ordinances and reading through academic policies was never your thing.

Outside your study, you hear the light footsteps of scholars while noisily prattling about one of their newest inventions. You can’t help but compare the plain white-green palette of your office to the brightness and energetic vibrance of the local districts.

Putting your hands on your head, you exhale deeply. “Fuck me!”

“--(Y/N). I hope you’re doing well on your first day.” A voice –not too different from years ago, just deeper– enters the room.

Oh god. “Alhaitham!” The silver-haired man closes the door behind him. You didn’t even hear his footsteps outside your office. “Sorry, my… hand cramped from signing all these papers. You know how it is.”

He raises his eyebrow. “Still not used to your tasks?” Seeing him out of his Haravatat uniform is a new sight. Even from a distance, his stature is much taller, no doubt towering over you.

“Well, I can’t really complain,” His lack of greeting and deadpan expression doesn’t bother you. If anything, you’re glad that the Alhaitham you knew four years ago is not too different from Alhaitham now. “It’s better than not having a job. I didn’t expect them to accept me so fast, though. I thought they’d be more hung up with my rejection thing years ago. Old people and their grudges, y’know?”

Alhaitham doesn’t respond, used to your chattering. He meanders to the nearby bookshelf and brushes through. Your lips quirk into a small grin. “Thank the Archons that I have my very cute junior, who’s also the Acting Grand Sage and the previous Scribe, to help me adjust with my new work, huh?”

His fingers stop skimming. He glares over his shoulder. “Power tripping me on your first day? I’m calling human resources.”

Your shoulders shake when you laugh. His own kind of humor never ceases to amuse you. “Sorry. It’ll take some time… but I’ll get used to this. I promise.”

A familiar and comfortable silence settles in the room. A few papers later, he finally picks the book he’s been looking for and turns to you. “Please do everyone a favor by going to Lambad’s Tavern tonight. Kaveh got into an altercation with another customer, and your presence would help tone down his temper. Tighnari and Cyno are also expecting you. Candace also mentioned that she hasn't gotten back to you since you last wrote to her, and she would love to catch up personally.”

Your lips smile at the mention of your old friends. Stretching your arms, you look out the window. The noise outside from Sumeru City barely hangs in the air with your office located so high up in the building. “News goes around real fast, doesn’t it? I’ve been keeping a low profile since last week and didn’t even tell anyone about my arrival. Not Kaveh. Not Cyno, not Tighnari, not Candace.” Your whisper, eyes downcast.

Alhaitham walks to the other side of your desk and crosses his arms. “The lack of funds for your organization wasn’t your fault, (Y/N). Whether it's because of the shift in power from the sages or not, incidents out of your control inevitably happen.”

You don’t ask why he knows the reason why you’re back here. Alhaitham always knew more than what he let on. “Don’t waste time being disappointed with yourself and focus on what you have now.”

You turn away, flustered from the sincere gaze of his bright virescent eyes. You take a sip of your warm coffee to hide your smile. “Thanks, Haitham. This is why you’re the best Acting Grand Sage.”

He rolls his eyes. The brewing tension disappears. “Make sure that I see you in the tavern no later than 10.”

The door softly closes when he leaves. For the first time in forever, this place starts to feel like home.

The lively, alcohol-drenched atmosphere in Lambad’s Tavern never changed.

Years ago, you’d go day drinking whenever your assignments were returned for their fifth revision. If your whole class was lucky, most of your group mates and colleagues will be with you, equally drowning in their academic-induced sorrows.

The amber-brown colors of the sheets and the patrons who entered remained the same. Before you even reach the counter, someone already picks you up and spins you around in a hug. “Little one! I’ve heard from some patrons that you were back in town. It’s one of those rumors that I hoped to be true!”

You giggle and embrace Lambad back, grateful for the older man’s warm welcome.

“(Y/N)!” You’d recognize the forest ranger’s sweet voice anywhere. Tighnari jogs towards you and pulls you into a hug, tail wagging. You notice that he looks better compared to all those years ago when he was still in the Akademiya. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see you sooner. When Cyno told me there seemed to be an occupant in your house, I didn’t expect it to be you! ”

Bitterness pangs in your heart. “I didn’t expect to be back either,” You say honestly. “Guess everyone needs a little break somehow.”

“Warn us next time, would you?” Cyno emerges behind his friend. “Be thankful that there was other urgent business to take care of. I was ready to… interrogate whoever was staying inside my friend’s house without their permission.”

“Yeah, yeah, got it, boss,” You shake your head and laugh. Three of you walk to a table near the windows. You’re happy to see everyone. And you’re glad to know that they’re also just as happy to see you.

After a good hour of catching up, you feel your whole body relax and your jaw tense from laughing too hard at Tighnari’s anecdotes. Your emotions unwind like a fresh flower by the streams.

“That blockhead doesn’t know what he’s talking about... Where are they? The tavern is too crowded at this hour!” You turn to your left, looking for him. You wave excitedly when you see a tuft of blonde hair.

His eyes widened. “(Y/N)?”

“Kaveh.”

“(Y/N)!”

“Kaveh!” The architect ran up and enveloped you in a hug. Since college, yours and Kaveh’s stupidity knew no bounds– it was always laughs and jokes between you. You stay in each other’s arms for a few moments, and the familiarity of his scent brings you relaxation.

The night goes on as great as it started.

“I can’t wait until I move out!” Kaveh exclaims. Two people from the other table look in his direction. Your other friends groan, used to his antics.

You notice redness starting to come up on the blonde’s neck. “You’re being really loud for someone I thought didn’t want people knowing you live with him.”

Cyno places down a card. Tighnari groans. “Don’t engage him. (Y/N). Or he won’t stop.”

“Yes! Yes,” Kaveh starts. All the other customers are busy with their own shouting and chattering. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the place. Alhaitham is a quiet roommate. I just can’t stand his attitude most of the time! If I wanted a lecture, I would’ve gone to the Akademiya and talked to my old professors.”

The blonde crosses his arms. “What about you, (Y/N)? I’m not going to lie, Alhaitham made a great recommendation of you being the Scribe. That’s the only thing I could commend him for this week, at least.”

“What?” You weren’t aware of that. Your thumbs fiddle with your skirt. “Uh, yeah. I’ll make sure to thank him later.”

“Oh, sweet (Y/N), you’re to kiiiiiind,” He slurs. “I wish you were my roommate instead.”

Your best friend reaches to twirl your hair. In your drunken stupor, you giggle with a light blush painting your cheeks.

A bottle clangs on the table. “Another one, please.”

A heavy presence sits beside you. You look, and Alhaitham was already downing a shot, throat bobbing.

In the background, your friends laugh while Kaveh groans.

Has Haitham always been this beautiful?

The silver-haired man looks at you. “Enjoying Kaveh’s tales?”

“It’s always a fun story when you’re involved.” You giggle, flushing under his gaze. “Everything about you is so entertaining, Haitham.”

Your flushed face does something to his chest. He gives you another shot. “That’s why your colleagues used to look at you weird. Whenever Kaveh wasn’t around, you’d hang out with me, even when I clearly wanted to be alone,” He laments.

“Says the one who used to follow me around like a puppy! We were mismatched weirdos,” You don’t notice the blush creep up on his cheeks. You smile at him earnestly, whispering. “I’m glad you didn’t change– oops!”

The chair creaks and you stumble into his arms. You look up, seeing his face and amber eyes close to yours. Heat emanates from the grip on your waist, and your hands feel hot on his chest. Sparks flew to your core.

“Get a room! You know what, I’m staying in Cyno’s tonight. He never sleeps anyway,” Kaveh’s shouts break the stupor and you push Alhaitham away. He stumbled, and Cyno was on his side in an instant. “You heard him. Kaveh, it’s time for you to clock out. Tighnari, let’s continue this game next time.”

The three of them exit the tavern. ‘Make Alhaitham pay the tab! He’s so unfair!’ Kaveh says, and Alhaitham begrudgingly does so when both of you have sobered enough to walk home.

You don’t know if it’s the leftover alcohol in your system, but the night sky swirls above both of you. “Ah… I never knew… howmuchImissedbeinghere,”

“Easy there,” He catches you again when you stumble. “Where are we going, Haitham?”

“To your place, of course. You’re exhausted from work. You need to rest.”

“What? But I thought…” Your mind goes blank. Alhaitham looks at you with hope in his eyes, but the light is gone in a split second.

“You thought what?” When you don’t answer, he stops on his tracks. “You thought what, (Y/N)? Tell me.”

“Nothing.” He looks away. You face him. “But… I think… my place is too far. Can we go to yours instead?”

You seal your fate with those words.

The heat from both of your bodies encapsulated the whole room.

Alhaitham’s hands slowly grip your curves. Passion and lust melted into two souls that yearned for each other for so long.

“Haitham…” You breathe out, shivering from his fingers ghosting on your skin. You feel like you’re on fire, and his warmth only served to fan your flames higher.

“I wanted you for so long… you’re so beautiful…” He gasps, fumbling around your blouse buttons. Despite his rough kisses, he handles you gently– like porcelain glass, a gift getting unwrapped for the first time.

When you finally undressed, Alhaitham almost couldn’t believe his eyes.

The one woman he had been obsessed with, laid out before him. His for the taking.

You shiver at his gaze. You hold out your hand, shaking from the cold. And arousal. “C-Come… Haitham… you can do whatever you want with me…”

And so he does. He climbs to your bed like a predator hunting the prey. You lie in wait as you let him take the lead. Kissing all over your breasts, suckling on your nipples, sending shivers to your core. You try to squeeze your legs for relief, but Haitham stops you by putting his knees in between your legs.

He clicks his tongue. “You’ll only cum on my mouth, fingers, or cock tonight, baby.”

You shudder at his words. Down he goes, settling himself between your soft thighs. You flush, your cunt surely eager and wet, aching for his touch. He licks a stripe in your pussy, and you moan. “H-haitham!”

He licks more eagerly, like a man starved. Never in a million years you’d ever thought that you would be this vulnerable and intimate. At the hands of your junior, no less. His face on your thighs and his mouth on your clit, sucking like you were his last meal.

Your head was in the clouds. Your hands move to his head, tugging roughly.

He growls. “You wanna play rough? I can play rough.”

You sigh. “Keep–going– Haitham…”

He spits on your cunt. He slurps on your mixed juices. “I-I’m close…”

He stops and you whine. Your legs are pulled to the end of the couch, and you watch him as he fumbles with his clothes. When he finally emerges stark naked in front of you, you notice his large cock, angrily red at the tip.

That won’t fit inside you.

“Wait– Haitham!” He positions himself in front of your legs, rubbing his cock on your entrance. “Yes, baby?”

“You– You might not fit inside me,” You flush deeper when he laughs. “I’m being serious!”

“We’ll never know if we don’t find out.” He enters you, and you moan. You try to cover your mouth from letting such embarrassing sounds come out, but he pins your arms above you. “I want to hear you.”

He rocks into you, like two bodies connecting with each other have waited for a long time.

Alhaitham observes your face, sketches it to his memory. The way your eyes glisten, and your mouth opens in pleasure. The curve of your hips and waist, the slope of your nose, the plush of your lips, and the tears in your eyes. You’ve grown into a fine young woman as he expected, and it was a blessing that you came home so unexpectedly.

Your pussy is heavenly. All his teenage fantasies culminated to this one night– his childhood crush, sprawled out in his bed and legs open like a slut. He’ll make sure that your skin is marked all over. Let everyone know that you’re his, and no one else’s.

“Haa… Feels so good…” You were equally drenched in sweat and your tears, pleasure overcoming your senses. You feel him suck your nipples again, sending you more pleasure to your core.

“You’re so fucking tight– that’s it, baby, suck me in,” He groans, as you feel yourself tumbling over the edge. The coil in your stomach tightens and you moan, and it suddenly snaps– “Ah!”

Your juices make a mess on his stomach, his thighs, and yours. You heave and gasp your breath, shivering.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m here, you’re safe,” Warm arms envelop you, and you close your eyes.

You sleep soundly in Alhaitham’s arms.

Time goes on, and your passionate meetings with Alhaitham are repeated.

You gave yourself to him again, and again, and again. At his house, when Kaveh is away with his clients. In his study, when he’s stressed. On his couch, when both of you are drunk and give in to lust before going to the bedroom. For the past month, you can’t count how many times you woke up seeing the lush green of his windows and his warm body curled up around yours.

His visits became frequent on your own study. He brings you coffee. You spend the whole day drafting and writing, and he reads his book in the corner of your room like a loyal attendant.

It’s domestic. Sometimes, you often wonder what life will be if you decide to stay.

(Is there a future with Alhaitham? You ask yourself one afternoon when you see the man sleeping on your mini desk. His silver hair softly flutters in the wind, and on his hand is a document you handed him to put by one of the bookshelves.

It would be good if he could join me in traveling the world. You stamp your last document for the day.

You walk and place a kiss on his forehead to wake him up. “Work’s done, sweetie.”

You would miss him terribly.)

One morning, your jolly footsteps alert people in the street. “Haitham!” You whisper excitedly. The door opens, and you enter before he can even offer for you to come inside. “I got it!”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what it is, but I’m proud of you.”

“I’m going back to Fontaine to teach! The stakeholders said there was an error in the calculations; they’re ready to fund my investment again!” You hug him tight. Joy pours out of your body.

(You don’t notice him freeze.)

“I’m so happy… I honestly thought that this was the end of my life’s purpose…” You trail off. Alhaitham hugs you back. His grip tightens on your waist.

“I can finally come back to the kids in Fontaine…” You trail off when you see him looking far into the distance.

You frown. You know better than most people that he’s not the most expressive person, but you thought that he would at least crack a smile for you.

You hastily pull away from your hug. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I just wanted you to know first, since you’re… very special to me,” Your face was red from shame, and from not knowing how to describe your relationship with Alhaitham correctly. “I’ll go tell Tighnari and the others now.”

A beat passes. “(Y/N).”

You turn around, hand clutching your bag. Alhaitham stands still on the doorway in the same position that you left him.

Then, he smiles– crooked and ominous, like he was forcing himself.

Perhaps he is.

A shiver goes down your spine. He speaks, confident and clear– like it wasn’t the most obvious lie. “I’m happy for you.”

The door closes behind him. This time, your feet fight the urge to get out of this city as soon as possible.

Your happiness ended as quickly as it came.

The newspaper plastered on the board of Port Ormos sits still despite the rough winds, like it knows how heavy the burden of the message it carries.

Yorun Investors dead on ambush

An Adventurer’s Guild member sighs, discouraged. A businessman– from Sneznhaya, you would assume from his attire– exclaims. “That would mean their investments are also cut off? Drat! Half of my businesses rely on their funding!”

People pile up to see the newsboard, collectively murmuring. You stand still, motionless. Bricks are piled on your hands and your feet.

You can always find other investors, of course. Just like you did four years ago.

How long would that take?

You walk home, absentminded. You pass by the Tavern, then the Akademiya. Walking by Alhaitham’s house doesn't even spark excitement inside you. Calling your other friends isn’t a choice, either.

You just want to wake up from this dream.

When you arrived, Someone was waiting on your doorstep.

“Alhaitham?” Thesman stands up straight. How long was he waiting? “(Y/N), I apologize for how I acted yesterday. I hope you forgive me.”

When you remain quiet, he continues. “I also heard about what happened. I don’t mean to mock you, (Y/N). I’m truly sorry to hear about it.”

Tears start falling down your face, which turn into full, ugly sobs. He walks gently, as if you’ll break into pieces if he makes the wrong move. He holds up his arms.

You bury your face in his chest and cry.

Living with Alhaitham was happier than you’d thought it would be.

It’s been months since you took his embrace on your front porch. You spent sleepless nights with him, writing letters for every investor or kind soul who’s kind enough to fund your endeavors, even for a penny.

You were desperate. If the higher ups knew the struggle you’re going through right now, you’re sure that they’re laughing at you.

(Not that you cared. Alhaitham stayed up writing letters with you, and that’s all the support that you need.)

You waited, waited, and waited. Yet every reply was rejection. Your partner saw you break down, and he’s always there to pick you back up.

His clothes are strewn all over your house, as if he lives there now.

“Coffee?�� He offers. You nod. A giggle comes out of your mouth when you see a purple hickey on his neck, barely covered by his shirt.

It’s been months since he heard your laugh. He stops stirring the cup he’s prepared for you. Alhaitham looks back, says sincerely, “I’m glad you stayed.”

An uncomfortable feeling brews once again. You tell yourself that you’ll get used to it.

You still have hope that one day, your feet will step out again to reach your dreams.

But for now, everything that you need in Sumeru City. The perfect partner, an authentic group of friends, a beautiful community, and a stable (but boring) job.

You’ll never have to venture out again.

(The evergreen shrubs outside your house starts to grow.)

“She’s settling in well?”

“Yes, she’s resting,” Alhaitham sits on the makeshift chair. Ghandarva Ville was far, but it’s where less people are around. Besides, no one would dare trespass in Tighnari’s personal home.

“You owe me a favor,” Cyno crosses his arms. “Finding the investor’s carriage was not difficult. They’re pretty famous. But erasing traces is a piece of work. I’m lucky that no one was within the area. Not that they could catch me, anyway.”

The door opens. Tighnari brushes off dirt from his clothing, having come back from burning the investor’s bloodied clothes. He sees the grey-haired man relaxing by his couch. “Are you smiling? Don’t smile. You look weird. Also everything is done, reduced to ashes. What’s our payment, Acting Grand Sage?”

Alhaitham hums, and everything fades into the background. He thinks of you lounging in your home, watering your plants, and decorating your journal. Just like how it’s supposed to be, in the first place. He even cleaned some parts of your house so that you don’t exhaust yourself too much upon your first day.

Thank the Archons that he has the perfect partner, an authentic group of friends, a beautiful community, and a stable job.

(Y/N) will never have to venture out again.

Ever.

#navi's writings #naviavu #yandere genshin impact #yandere kamisato ayato #yandere x you #genshin smut #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact smut #yandere smut #yandere genshin #yandere alhaitham #alhaitham smut

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celestemona · 6 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

a brief look at their daily life & random family’ moments (not the same timeline)

pairing: dad & husband! wriothesley, cyno, kaveh x fem! reader

cw: original characters, maternity, pregnant reader in wriothesley's part, parenthood, use of endearment names, arabic terms & fluff stuff. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Wriothesley

Busy with your daily tasks, you and Wriothesley enjoyed each other's company in his office allowing only the rustling of papers and the noises of the pen signing documents to cause any sound in the slightly silent environment.

The weight and movements in your womb didn't bother you as much as the discomfort caused by the swelling in your feet, and so you took advantage of those moments to work while allowing your body to relax on the sofa that your husband had recently bought.

A stack of papers was supported by your belly as you placed all the revised documents to be filed on top of it, but Wriothesley could see that all that paperwork didn't interest you as much as the crossword puzzle from The Steambird newspaper that you currently entertaine yourself.

“Honey, quickly. Known as Liyue’ enlightened beasts or gods. Seven letters.”

Wriothesley looked up from a form and pondered for a few seconds before smirking, “Easy. Adeptus.”

You smiled excitedly, gratefully and scribbled down the answer right away.

Moving on to the next riddle, you had barely noticed someone knocking on the door until your husband allowed their entry and the presence of your teenage son was present. The boy peeked shyly through the crack in the door before entering.

“Mom. Dad. Are you busy?”

“Never for you, sweetheart,” you replied, setting the newspaper aside and placing the other papers on the tea table in front of you, gesturing for him to come closer. Cameron smiles sweetly and walks over to you, sitting next to you and soon being covered by your attention and affection.

“Is there a problem, buddy? I thought you were in the city with Quentin,” Wriothesley asks.

“No no. Everything's okay, don't worry. Quentin forgot that today was his parents' performance day and Corinne picked him up while we were at the beach. Éveline is also busy so I decided to come home,” the boy explains.

You and Wriothesley nod in acknowledgement and your husband stands up from his own table announcing that he was going to prepare a pot of tea for the entire family.

Cameron leans into the warmth of your embrace as you return to entertain yourself with your puzzle, but never pushing your son away from you. Meanwhile, seeming to sense her older brother's presence, your daughter starts kicking your stomach as if she too wants attention. Both you and Cameron laughed.

“Does it hurt?,” he asks.

“No. I mean... Sometimes it feels like your sister thinks my belly is a playground and not even my ribs escape unscathed, but that's nothing I can't handle with,” you respond as you feel the boy's smaller hands caressing the area where Marie's little feet stretched. Gradually the heavy kicks became light nudges and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Cameron coos.

Smiling, you kiss the top of your child's head and respond, “She's looking forward to meeting you too.”

A few minutes later, as Wriothesley returned with tea and some treats, the sight of his wife and son welcoming him warmly brought a small smile to his face. Even after so many years together and living this life, Wriothesley felt that there was nothing as beautiful and full of love as his little family. He was truly grateful for you three.

Cyno

The General Mahamatra was accompanying the Less Lord Kusanali back to the Sanctuary of Surasthana after a long meeting with all the sages and the scribe of the Akademiya when he saw you leaving the Grand Bazaar with the twins by your side.

The sparkle that briefly crossed his eyes when he saw his family could have gone unnoticed by most people who, themselves, would avoid entering the matra's vision at all costs. However, as smart and aware of her surroundings as she could be, the little dendro archon giggled softly and suggested that Cyno end his day's work to enjoy that comfortable afternoon with his wife and children.

“Don’t worry about me. I'm just going to take a look around here and I'll be back home before dark,” she assured.

Hesitant and perhaps a little worried about the little girl's well-being, Cyno took a while to accept the offer, arguing that he’d see you at the end of the day. However, after much persuasion from Nahida, and perhaps even inappropriate use of her hierarchy, the electro user soon found himself thanking the goddess for her kindness and bidding her farewell as he made his way to you and your children next.

As if his senses were warning him of a new presence, Isaar was the first to notice his father approaching — welcoming him with a genuine smile and an excited wave that drew his twin's attention and yours back to him. You greet your husband with a quick peck on his cheek that didn't fail to leave him embarrassed and you amused, and the twins approach to receive a pat on the head simultaneously.

“Hey baba, guess what,” Isaar announces excitedly “We’re having Shawarma Wrap for dinner tonight!”

Cyno blinks contemplatively and stares at you with a raised eyebrow, “That’s unusual. Any special occasion?”

“I won three rounds against Yan in the Invokation TCG, and we had bet that whoever won would be able to order mama for a special dinner.”

Cyno nods in understanding and Aryan sighs in defeat but already resigned.

“I really wanted to eat mama’s Panipuri. Grandpa even helped me pick the best potatoes for them,” the quieter twin murmurs, but you hear him and let out a giggle, stroking the boy's face.

“I’ll make them next time, Ary. Promise. I’ll even make double the quantity just for you,” you respond quietly so only he can hear and your son nods.

The general, unable to avoid listening to your conversation, also smiled a little. Here you were once again resolving a situation that might seem insignificant to others, but to you, it’d never cease to be important — and just with a few simple words you managed to express exactly what your son wanted to hear.

In the end, Cyno removed the shopping bags from your reach and held them tightly with one hand while the other reached for yours before intertwining your fingers, guiding you back home. The twins walked in front of you two engaged in a conversation in their own language, never leaving their father's or mother's sight.

Even though moments like these were rare given his and your duties, Cyno enjoyed every second he could get in the presence of the people he loved most. Because as simple as they were, they were just as special.

Maybe he should ask Nahida for a holiday. But just maybe.

Kaveh

“Daddy, daddy, daddy! Guess what! I will marry Hakim!”

Those were the words your sweet girl announced as she entered the kitchen, making you pause your lunch preparation to look at her and Kaveh choke on the wine he was currently enjoying.

The architect needed your help to relieve the coughs that filled his throat and inhale deeply to recover from the situation that almost dug his grave before his time — the words of his little princess, not the wine.

“Princess, I thought you were going to marry daddy,” the man reminded her with a shaky smile and voice. You snorted.

“No! Daddy is already married to mommy. Also, look how beautiful this drawing Hakim made for me!” Zahra responds excitedly and hands her father a colorful and childish, but almost identical, replica of the Palace of Alcazarzaray. Although he didn't want to acknowledge it, Kaveh had to admit: the mini copy of his best friend had talent.

“Oh my. How beautiful Zaza,” you praise the drawing as you lean over your husband, “Did you thank him properly, right?”

“Yes! I gave him a rose,” she says proudly.

Kaveh's heart suddenly softens. Zahra truly was a thoughtful, sweet, and kind child, and he was proud of the beautiful girl he watched grow up every day — taking only the best traits from both her parents. That's why Kaveh protected her so fiercely because his little princess was too precious and he’d never forgive himself if something took that bright smile away.

“Daddy is still against this marriage, though,” he says suddenly after snapping out of his reverie, “You are too young, I doubt Hakim would have the ideal resources and qualities to provide you with a good home and above all, men, in general, are horrible. But daddy isn’t. So daddy is the best option!” Kaveh ends his speech by crossing his arms and pretending to make a displeased face. You roll your eyes and pinch his cheek. He pouts at that.

“Let kids be kids, love.”

Zahra, in turn, didn't seem sad or shaken by her father's words at all, but rather contemplative. The little girl's brow furrowed for a moment before she answered him.

“But daddy, Hakim promised that we’d get married when we were big like you and mommy and his mama and papa. He said that when he grows up he’ll become a great house artist like you and then he will make a house for the two of us to live in and you can visit us all the time!”

Kaveh was internally horrified. They were already making plans for the future and Zahra hadn't even had her seventh birthday yet.

That was unacceptable, intolerable — the architect didn't even want to think about other possibilities.

But looking at his daughter's sparkling golden irises and genuine smile because of all that fairy tale, the man couldn't retort but sigh in resignation. Besides, Hakim's word about he being a great artist were appreciated. But just a little bit.

“Fine. But you won't get married until you're thirty-seven. And Hakim has to build a palace with many rooms and a beautiful garden. And I will visit you every day!” he snorts and Zahra nods excitedly, giggling hugging him afterwards.

Meanwhile, you kept watching them with mild amusement and a warmth comforting your heart.

If only your husband knew that childhood friends to lovers was a very common thing he’d go back on his words.”

a/n: i planned to write a part for kazuha and alhaitham but i'm a little bit tired so maybe in the next update? we'll see...

please let me know if there’s any mistakes ;)

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #cyno #cyno x reader #kaveh #kaveh x reader #genshin dads au #when they're dads

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caesium-55 · 9 months ago

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—seven days. [ iv ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

warning/s: sexual content but it's nothing too explicit. also angst angst angst.

author's note: NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED. also, lemme know what u guys think!! would love to read it honestly. it was what had been keeping me inspired.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @leclercdream

masterlist.

You have three philosophies in life.

Pussies do not get the good stuff. If you want the good stuff, don't be a pussy.

Hard work will pay off one day. In the meantime, work hard but don't work too hard. You work smart and make it seem like you're working hard so by the time your “hard” work pays off, you’re not too tired from working and still have energy to enjoy your reward, you know? Does that make sense?

Whatever Max Verstappen wanted, Max Verstappen would get.

Now let us focus on philosophy number three. It's a shitty philosophy to have, but when you're working as the manager of Red Bull’s golden boy—after Sebastian Vettel, of course—that philosophy sort of becomes the job description. It's your job to give whatever Max Verstappen wanted, whatever he needed.

When he asks you that question, sounding so innocent as if he hasn't just yanked your entire world off its axis by saying those words, your first reaction is to pull up the middle finger. Fuck you, Max. Max is an asshole for asking you that. Max is an absolute asshole for asking you for a kiss. For the five years you've worked for him, he should already be aware of the power he holds over your head. Should be aware that you'll give anything he'll ask. That's why he should be careful with what he's asking from you.

Said asshole has the audacity to pout. He resembled the pet duck who lived in your Abuelo's farm that you were very fond of in your childhood. Her name was Maria and she was a menace. Your Abuelo even tied a pink bow to the duck’s neck so it could be easily recognizable. A 181-cm tall, broad-shouldered, blond-brown-haired Dutch duck with a blue-eyed gaze that will never fail to make your bones tremble and your heart stutter once you let yourself stare at it. You can put a bow around his neck, too, like what your Abuelo did to that duck. Then, use the bow to choke him in a way that is definitely not sexy or kinky but in a way that screams murder, murder, murder.

“That's not nice.”

“‘M not a nice person.”

“You're a nice person, you just don't do nice things.”

You give him a weird look.

“If you weren't a nice person, you would not be here with me right now,” he continues, in a manner that made him seem like a hundred-old sage imparting wisdom. “But you're here and you're not leaving and you're not hurting me so you're nice.”

His words cause something rotten to bloom in your ribs, “How are you so certain that ‘m not gonna end up hurtin’ you? For all you know, I'm gonna use this billiard stick to make you a human skewer right now.”

He laughs. God. The sound is absolutely beautiful that it terrifies you.

“You're you, [Name]. You would never hurt me.”

In a sense, he's right. You will never hurt him. Not intentionally, at least. If you wanted him to hurt, you'll be leaving right now and flying to Texas the same way Kelly did in Abu Dhabi. Because, for someone like Max, nothing in this world is more painful than to be left alone when all you yearned for is someone to be there for you.

“So……will you?” he asks again. “Will you kiss me?”

He's drunk, your brain reasons. Your fingers gently reach for his jaw—very angular, you belatedly realize—and Max chases the warmth of your skin. He does not know what he's asking, your brain reasons again. You tug him towards you and your mouth meets his, immediately registering the taste of the beer on his tongue. He’s stupid, your brain added. I’m stupid, too, you argue mentally and pushes him against the side of the billiard table and toss your stick to the floor and let yourself take everything from Max Verstappen. Fuck you Max, you think with finality. Your brain replies: You’re also fucked.

He took what he wanted from you. Every day. Every single day. He will ask and you will give. Now, it is your turn to take. One last time before the inevitable goodbye that you know will break both of your hearts.

Anger. Frustration. That's what you feel right now. Anger because this is going to make things more complicated for you and goddammit, why are you making things hard for yourself? Frustrated because you’re not supposed to do this but you cannot fucking stop. Thank fuck you resigned before pulling this shit because this is soooooo unprofessional.

You read somewhere that said something like all people are driven to the point of eating their gods after a time. And is this situation not a perfect demonstration of this? Max is your god. Max was your god. And you are going to devour him—fueled by five years of frustration and anger and a series of why, why, why didn't you talk to Horner? Now it's too late because I'm leaving all because you didn't talk to fucking Horner.

You've forgiven 2021. 2022 made your grudge grow. And you're not stupid to continue staying after his 2023 victory when it's clearly not happening—the dream that will be given to you with Max's power. You will never forgive yourself if you stayed here and be continuously reminded of what you could become, what you failed to become.

Max is surprisingly pliant under your hands. A rare occasion. One would expect Max Verstappen to take the lead because that's what he did in the race tracks. A 20-second lead from everyone else. He's also the type to just do whatever he wanted, you know? And people would let him. Because he's Max Verstappen.

Dominance. Total dominance.

“Wait,” he squeezes your arms and you do not hear him clearly the first time because you're so concentrated on his lips and how it feels and tastes against yours. “Wait, wait. Slow down.”

You pull away and you hear him take a gasp of air, “Somethin’ wrong?”

He looks so beautiful like this. Beneath you. Lips swollen. Blue eyes wide with desire. Hair perfectly messy. Grip on your arm so tight that you're sure will definitely leave a hand-shaped bruise tomorrow.

“Can’t breathe,” he says with a light laugh and you resist the urge to violently bash your head against the billiard table because what the fuck? That's not good for your heart. It's too… too… adorable. Max is not supposed to be an adorable person.

You suck in a breath and lower your head until your forehead meets Max’s firm chest.

“Fuck you,” you mumble.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

You raise your head and meet Max’s eyes, the culprit behind your insanity right now.

(Your Abuela said that blue eyes were just blue eyes. Until you fall in love with someone with blue eyes and blue becomes a color that consumed your world whole. You appreciated the sky more because it reminded you of his eyes. You appreciated the color of the seas more because it reminded you of his eyes. Blue became the color of love.)

Now what? Do you continue or…?

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Do you even need to ask?” you deadpan. Max’s hands circle around your waist and he gently guides you away from him. He dusts his shirt once he has fully risen from the billiard table before his hand finds yours. Fingers intertwining together, he leads you out of the entertainment room.

Your heart drums with anticipation. Numerous questions circle around your head but it all disappears in a flash when Max brings you to the room where you found him that morning. You wince when you walk past the broken door.

Yeah…

Making a payment plan will be hell. You're unemployed at the current moment, too. The first thing you have to do when you land in Texas is find a job.

He makes you sit on his bed, the soft mattress dipping down on your weight. You can only stare at him, brows furrowing in confusion and a question sitting on the tip of your tongue that you are yet to voice out. Max makes a beeline to his closet, throwing it open and procuring a box.

A box.

He walks back to you, dropping on his knees and that action makes you panic. Then, Max opens the box, pulling out the most gorgeous pair of five-inch block heels you have ever laid eyes upon and gently slips them onto your feet. The straps have pearls and satin bows and it has tiny white diamonds, elegantly cut, as the centerpiece. Not even the YSL Opyum heels you own can compare to its elegance and beauty.

You almost kick him in the face because you do not expect that he’ll do that.

I bought shoes and they don't fit her. Max has told you. You feel bile rise up your throat.

The shoes. They fit you. Perfectly. As if it was made to be yours. As if it was bought to be yours. As if he was thinking of you, who is nothing but his manager and somewhat friend, when he bought the gorgeous heels instead of Kelly Piquet, his fucking girlfriend of three years whom he had been living with in this fucking penthouse, and parenting little P with.

“They're perfect,” Max whispers and he looks up with that smile playing on his lips. You feel tears sting your eyes and you press your lips into a thin line before moving your gaze away, blinking rapidly.

Max is doing this because he thought you were Kelly.

“They're custom, you know? They're the only pair in the world.”

His words make the taste of bile a hundred times worse. You stare at the shoes on your feet as if it's a sin to have the shoes fit you. No wonder Kelly is mad at Max. If Leo has commissioned custom heels with another woman in mind and got your shoe size wrong after three years of being together, you'll feel hurt, too.

You feel the need to apologize to Kelly. Maybe a quick message to her IG? You also follow each other’s private account.

“You’re thinking,” he says and his voice snaps you out of the rabbit hole known as your thoughts. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothin’,” you lie. The feeling of wanting to puke intensifies so you grab Max by his collar and plant your lips against his to push back the imaginary bile stuck on your throat and from there, the situation escalates to the point that clothes are removed. One by one. When you reach to unstrap the heels, Max grabbed your wrists, almost panicked.

“What are you doin’?” you ask.

“Don't take them off please.”

Whatever Max wanted, Max would get.

Your name built a home in Max’s mouth, the syllables rolling off his tongue with ease at every pleasure he felt, while your fingers explore every inch of Max’s skin. You're only allowed to watch back then. Now, you're allowed to touch.

Hearing his whimpers and little groans and shudders—all done by your hands—you feel nothing but satisfaction. He chants your name like it's a prayer and you're his god and if that is not love then you do not what is.

You wait for Max to utter Kelly’s name midway.

He never did.

“What are you doing?” his voice is groggy with sleep. After doing it, he immediately passes out. Weak ass bitch. You're still waiting for the horror once the realization of what you’ve done sinks into your system. The annoying headache, too. For now, none of them have arrived yet. Probably because you still have enough alcohol in your system to numb things out for you. While waiting, you're on your phone.

Ha, it's past 12 midnight now. You have three days to tell Max before you fly to Texas.

“Talkin' to someone,” you reply cryptically. His brows knit together.

“Who?”

“Just Logan.”

“The American in Williams?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, the American in Williams.”

You notice how his arms on your waist tighten, pulling you a little closer to him, but you say nothing. This action causes flowers to bloom in your lungs and you hope he hasn't noticed how your breath hitched.

“Why?”

“He’s my friend. Friends talk,” you deadpan.

Logan Sargeant is an absolute sweetheart. He reminds you a lot of your little brother and you both share the same sentiments regarding the feeling of being unwelcomed in Formula One. You suppose he has it worse though. Nobody in the grid really makes an effort to befriend the young racer and you're fifty percent sure that the fact he's American made a contribution to that.

None of the other racers even follow him on Insta.

“Well, what are you two talking about?” Grumpy and bratty Max is back. Welcome back, asshole.

“He’s in Texas right now and he was askin’ if I was back home, too. Said we should grab a drink together. I promised to show him around Austin.”

“You never invited me to Austin.”

“Why would you even go to Austin?” your nose scrunch a little. “You visit your mother for Christmas.”

He rolls his eyes.

“You're befriending too much racers.”

“Excuse me? I only have Logan as a friend. Charles, too, by extension because he's your friend,” you point out. “Checo and Daniel and Yuki and Liam because they work with you.”

“And me.”

“You're not my friend.”

“What am I then? Your dog?”

“I work for you.”

“You work with me, not for me,” he corrects.

You do not know why your heart skipped a beat at that.

“I’m just trynna be a good friend here and you're bein’ unreasonably grumpy,” you try to shift the subject to save your own sanity. “None of you even tried to befriend Logan.”

Max abruptly reaches for his phone on the bedside table and unlocks it. You watch as he opens his Instagram, the public one, and added Logan's account. You gape. He switches to his private account and searches for Logan’s account in your profile's list of followers and adds him, too.

“What the fuck, Max?”

“I’m befriending him,” he says simply. “I’ll invite him over if he ever comes by in Monaco during the off-season.”

You blink.

“Now say goodbye to him and go back to sleep.”

He tosses his phone to the bedside table and turn his back on you in a manner that reminded you of a very petulant child.

You glance at your phone only to see Logan’s freaked out messages.

logan: HE FOLLOWED ME??!? ON BOTH ACCOUNTS???

logan: AM I SEEING THINGS? HAVE I ACCIDENTALLY SNORTED DRUGS??!

logan: maybe it's the texas heat??

logan: *sent a screenshot*

logan: MAX VERSTAPPEN INVITED ME TO HIS PENTHOUSE??

you: congrats child

logan: is this your doing??!?

logan: are you with him now?

logan: wait that's impossible, itd be 2 am in monaco now there's no way youd be together rn

If only he knows.

you: how bout we talk later once the sun rises here in monaco?

you: or maybe once i arrive in the us?

logan: sure sure

you: stay safe out there kid

logan: HE JUST FOLLOWED ME I CAN DIE HAPPY

You toss your phone aside and inch closer to Max, looping your arms around him and falling asleep in his warmth.

Your phone rings and it's not the Max Max Max Super Max Max ringtone. It's the default one.

Mama, the caller ID indicates. 4:31 AM is written on the upper right corner of your phone screen. You press the answer button.

“Your Papa…… It was a dangerous call. He needs to see you before he… He might not make it.”

That alone is enough for you to jump out of bed. You scramble to grab last night’s clothes and slip them on. Fuck, they still smell like alcohol.

“Hey, hey, what's wrong?” Max, who's rudely awakened when you abruptly jumped out of bed, looks so lost and when he sees you run your way out of his bedroom and to the stairs, he panics. The poor man panicked. He falls down the bed and runs after you, having the decency to only grab a towel to cover his lower half. He stops you, grabbing your wrist just as you're at the lowest step of the stairs.

“Wait, where are you going?” his voice is still rough with sleep and he's aggressively rubbing out his grogginess from his eyes. You stop, letting out a breath that you don't realize you're holding before turning around to face him. Then, the guilt rushes in. Max looks so…you don't have the words to describe it. His hair is a mess and he still looks sleepy but he also looks wide awake and kind of panicking and confused.

This is a face that's equally endearing and heartbreaking. You can't believe this will be the last time you'll be seeing him. You're still supposed to have three days left but now it's cut short and you—

You'll miss him.

“Sorry, baby,” you come up a few steps and cup his cheeks, bringing his face down so you can kiss his forehead. His hand comes up to lay on top of yours, eyes fluttering close.

“Where are you going?” he asks again.

“Texas,” you reply. “Dad… he… 'Twas a bad call and I need to see him. I need—I need to go home now.”

This is the reality of being family with a firefighter. You're always in danger of losing your father in one of the calls. And that is happening now.

Max understands because he knows your father's line of work.

“Do you need me to come with you?”

You shake your head.

“Then, I’ll drive you.”

“No,” you shoot him down quickly. “You drank last night. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m not drunk now.”

“Max,” you breathe through your nose to calm yourself down. “I’ll take the next flight available to the US. You stay here.”

“Take my jet.”

“No, Max,” you say. “Thank you for the offer but you’ll use the jet when you visit your mother.”

“I can fly commercial,” he squeezes your hands. “You don't want me to drive you. You don't want me to come with you. At least take the jet.”

You open your mouth to protest.

“Just take the jet, please, [Name].”

Whatever Max wanted, Max would get. So you nod your head slowly because it looks like he'll argue just to get you seated in his jet. And you'll argue with him if it was any other day but not today because you need to leave quickly. Time is becoming too precious. You can lose your Dad any second. You just wish you can see him and talk to him before he went.

“Okay.”

You pull away, whipping around to head to the door but Max doesn't let your wrist go. You turn back to him.

“What is it, Max?”

“Text me when you land in Texas?”

“Of course.”

“One last thing. Wait here.”

He runs back to his room and you tap your foot impatiently, eyes trained on the mismatched shoes that covered your feet. Max returns not even five minutes later and now, he's wearing clothes and he’s carrying the shoe box from last night.

You swallow the lump on your throat.

“Take this with you.”

With shaking hands, you take the box.

“See you around, [Name].”

“Goodbye, Max.”

It's a good thing that you spent the entire morning yesterday packing because this makes everything smoother for you. It is a little past 5 am now and the outside world is still enveloped in total darkness. You gaze at the apartment one last time, three suitcases in tow. The keys feel heavy in your hands as you lock the door behind you.

In the middle of your apartment living room sits a lone shoe box with a letter that says: Sorry, Max. I can't steal more from Kelly.

Beside the box is a folder.

An unfinished guide on becoming Max Verstappen’s manager. (I’ll have the final copy printed, binded, and sent before the 2024 pre-season. Haha, I’m channeling my inner Toto Wolff.)

The first paper you’ll see after you open the folder reads:

Max, I know you’d be the one who’d find this one day. By that time, I’ll be in Texas already. I don't know if I’d have told you that I resigned already. If I didn't, that's because I’m a pussy. Sorry.

Anyways, I will say this as straightforwardly as I can because I think I had been a pussy long enough.

I resigned, Max. I won't be your manager by 2024 and honestly, I am worried. Not for you, of course. You’d win WDC whether I am your manager or not. That's how good you are. I am worried for your future manager. I’m afraid it would take someone with guts like me to work for with someone like you. A powerhouse manager for a powerhouse athlete.

Inside, you can find the following things:

How to bake my abuela’s special cheesecake.

How to make Red Bull vodka

How to make Max’s favorite pasta for lunch

List of Max Verstappen’s favorite places in each city

How to iron Max Verstappen’s clothes

What to do when Max accidentally sets the kitchen on fire

What to do when Max has a bad race

How to protect Max Verstappen from angry Hamilton fans

How to deal with a drunk Max Verstappen

Etc…

I will still be watching your journey, not from the Red Bull garage but from another continent. We worked five amazing years together and now it is time for us to fly on different skies. As much as I liked working with you, you can't be the only one reaching your dreams. Don’t worry, I’ll always reach out.

Thank you, Max. For giving me a home. I’m not talking about the apartment. I don't believe that home are establishments. Home is the people you love and Max, you are someone I love.

In the last page of this folder, you’d see a handmade bracelet tucked inside. It's small and it's made of cheap beads and I do not care if you don't think it's worthy enough to be worn on your wrist. Not even going to be offended. It's dirt compared to the Cartier bracelets you wear everyday. I bought the beads while roaming in Brazil and I just thought I’d make you one.

I cannot give you any gift that you already cannot buy with your money so I went ahead and made this. Money cannot buy anything made by my own hands.

Thank you again, Max.

And I’m so fucking sorry.

Please don't be angry.

I love you.

You watch the sun rise inside Max's jet as you fly over Monaco to Texas.

#mv1 #mv33 #max verstappen #f1imagines #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 #formulaone #fanfic #max verstappen fanfic

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mrsdesade · 5 months ago

Note

I'd like something based on Sage vs fem!supe! Maybe them arguing and then Homie forced to choose between one of them, but everything ending up with something unexpected! You choose what :)

Shattered glasses;

Pairing: Homelander x fem!super (I use Ophera bc I don't like writing ''y/n'' y'know) TW: slight angst, mention of poisoning, morally grey fem!supe Timeline: season 4 Words count: 2,7k Note: thanks for the request dear anon, I was waiting for writing something about s4 :) ofc no hate for any characters!!

Sister Sage never liked you. From the first moment she saw you, she knew you would be a hindrance. She's not jealous, not even in love with him, she just wanted to control Homelander, and you already had him in your grasp. But the little flaws in your absolutely not perfect relationship with him were the perfect opportunity for her to destroy you and get you fired.

For months she had been trying to make you look incompetent or unable to do your work, she was the smartest woman in the world, and in her eyes you were just another showgirl like the others.

But you were on the Seven from the early years and, oh, you didn't liked at all the fact that Homelander had chosen her as his advisor.

You, you are his partner, he should listen to you.

It has always been about control, rarely about love. But now you feel jealousy boiling in your veins, your control over him is slipping away, and you feel in danger. You know that you'll have to prove to Sage that it is not so easy to get rid of you.

Sister Sage sat comfortably at the table of the Seven, her hands folded in front of her, sipping a steaming cup of chamomile tea. With a delicate motion, she set the cup back down on its saucer, and flashed you a calm smile.

“I think you’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment. You’re making this personal. It’s simply business.”

She's too confident in her intellectual abilities, to the point of arrogance. She's good at reading people, especially their feelings and insecurities, and she uses that to her advantage in arguments, trying to make you say something stupid and make you look like a fool.

“You’ve had your chance at the top, dear. It’s time to accept that things have changed.”

You are standing, with your hands placed on the table, clenched into two fists to hold back your nervousness, looking for the right words to face her, but nothing comes out of your lips.

“Listen, I understand your… frustration. After all, you’re nothing more than a relic these days, don’t you think? A fading star.”

The words hit you like a blow to the gut. Her casual insults were like salt rubbed vigorously into an open wound. You fight back the urge to respond with anger, knowing that she's goading you into a reaction.

“Oh, I hit a nerve, didn’t I? That’s exactly what I meant. You’re stuck in the past. You can’t adjust to the changes. It’s kinda pathetic, really.”

You wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and wipe that arrogant smile off her face, but you knew that’s exactly what she wanted. So you took a deep breath, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

“I suggest you think about your words better, the last person who dared to call me pathetic didn't end well.”

Sage raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“You can try to intimidate me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that your time has passed. No matter what you do, you won't be able to get your spotlight back.”

“Dear, I fill the stadiums, the arenas, millions of people come to hear my voice every night, every single event is sold out in minutes! I wouldn't call this decay of a carreer.”

“Ah, yes, the fame and the adoration of the masses. Impressive, really. But I was referring to another type of spotlight here.”

She paused for a moment, studying your face before continuing. Your gaze has become dark, almost threatening, you know perfectly well where he wants his speech to end.

“We both know you lost your real spotlight a long time ago…the one that matters. Homelander won’t change his mind about me.”

Your expression betrays your emotions, anger and frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

“You're playing a dangerous game Sage, you know that? You think you can just waltz in here and take my place?”

“Ophera, is it so hard to accept that I’m better equipped for the job? You’ve always been so blinded by your ego and your pride. Your strategy is always to stay safe and not lose your career, Vought needs much more than this.”

Her expression was cool and calculating, as If she had already mapped out every possible reaction you might have.

“And let's clarify, I don’t need to take your spot. I already have.”

Your face twisted in anger, your fists gripped the table’s edge, under your gloves knuckles turning white.

“You arrogant little—“ you began, but she calmly interrupted you.

“Now, now, there’s no need for insults.” she chided, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “We’re adults here, we can speak calmly and intelligently like any normal person, don’t you agree?”

“You're feeling cool, mh? Acting all smart and knowing everything. I've been a part of this Seven for years. And you, you're nothing.”

Her cool demeanor began to crack, and a hint of annoyance flickered across her face at your words.

“Ah, here it goes. The same old tired argument. I've been here longer, I'm more experienced, blah blah blah.”

She leaned forward, her eyes boring into yours with an intensity that contradicted her calm exterior.

“Oh, did I hit a nerve?” you teased, mirroring her earlier taunt.

“Don't get too comfortable.” she retorted, her voice slightly sharpened. “You should remember that your position here is fragile. One wrong word, one wrong move, and you could lose everything you have left.“

You leaned forward now, your voice lowering as you met her gaze.

“You seem to forget that I’ve still a pretty big influence over Homelander myself. I can make things difficult for you if I want to.”

“I think we both know who he listens to these days.”

The conversation was cut short when the door to the room burst open, and Homelander strolled in, his presence immediately filling the space. His eyes flicked between the two of you, sensing the tension in the room.

“What's going on here?”

You and Sage both turned your attention to him, quickly composing yourselves.

“Just a chat. I was merely informing Ophera of some important developments within about the Vought future.”

Homelander glanced at you, tilting his head slightly as he observed.

“A chat, huh? Didn't look like a friendly one to me.”

“You're right. And since it's clear that Sage loves telling you lies, I'll tell you that wasn't just a simple chat.” an adorable, mischievous smile escapes from your lips. Exposing the little lie she told to him.

Homelander's eyes immediately landed on Sage, waiting for her to respond. “Care to explain?”

Sage shifted in her seat, clearly irritated that you had exposed her lie. “It's nothing serious, just a typical argument between colleagues. Nothing you need to worry about.” she replied quickly, trying to downplay the situation.

And incredibly, it works.

Homelander nods like a tamed puppy and believes her.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration as Homelander seemed to buy into Sage's explanation so easily. It seemed like she had him wrapped around her little finger.

“I see, things like this happens, just keep it professional, ladies, okay?”

Sage shot you a quick, victorious look, smug knowing her sweet words to him had prevailed, again.

Disappointment flooding through your veins. It infuriated you how easily Homelander seemed to believe blindly in to Sage's words. You tried to maintain a neutral expression. But you won't have another opportunity like this to assert your dominance, you have to think of something quickly. Sage sure is smart, but you can be really sly.

You pretended to shrug nonchalantly, even though inside you were seething with anger. But you weren't done yet.

You locked eyes with Homelander, ensuring he was listening to you. And then you spoke, your voice dripping with feigned concern.

“It’s true, it wasn’t a big deal. But there’s one thing that concerns me, Homelander. May I be honest with you?”

He tilted his head slightly, curiosity piqued. “You've to.”

“I felt a bit insecure lately and I was wondering...If I should save Sage from poisoning or me from falling from a building. Who would you save?”

Your question comes like an unexpected bolt of lightning, without anyone being able to foresee it or understand its real intention. You cross your arms over your chest and walk around the room slowly, waiting for a response.

He's is taken aback by your question, and the room falls silent. Sage glanced at you quickly, an unexpected flicker of worry in her eyes.

Homelander's eyes follow you as you walk around the room. He's quiet for a few moments, considering the weight of your words before answering.

“Why should I choose, I can save both without effort, you know that.” he finally responds, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Your lips curled into a smirk - the answer is far from satisfactory.

“Of course, but let's say you can only choose one.” you persist, your voice steady. “Who would it be?”

His expression unreadable. He's definitely taken off guard by your insistence, and you can see a hint of annoyance starting to form underneath the surface.

“There are too many factors to consider, I can't just say one random name. Fuck, you and your stupid questions...”

Sage looks down at the cup of chamomile tea she was drinking a few minutes ago, and for a second the fear of having been poisoned actually makes her shiver.

“And that's why I'm here to listen all of your thoughts about.” you smile at him once again, hiding something dark behind your kind tone.

Homelander sighs, finally realizing you won’t back down. He crosses his arms, staring at you with slight irritation.

“Fine. Let's say, If I had to choose, I'd likely save Sage first.”

Sage's head snapped up upon hearing his decision, and her eyes widened in surprise. But you answer him carefully, still smiling.

“Are you sure about that?”

“I mean, you're more resistant than her, you wouldn't really die falling from a building. While Sage body is totally human, he would certainly die without an antidote for the poison.”

Your smirk widens, you expected this.

“There, happy now? I solve your fucking riddle.”

You quickly turn away from the conversation and casually walk over towards the large window you know is behind Sage's seat. Acting as if you were admiring the view outside, you casually reach for the handle and pull the window open. The gust of wind that blows in is strong enough to be unexpected, the documents on the table rattle, and the curtains wave violently.

Sage's hand involuntarily releases her cup of tea, and as it hits the floor and the liquid splashes in her direction, a look of panic and realization flashed across her face.

She quickly rises from her seat, her body shaking subtly, trying to play it off as if it was just a simple accident. But anyone can see the flicker of panic behind her eyes. The liquid seeps into the carpet, staining it a dark brown.

“You— Ophera what have you done to my tea?!”

Homelander's eyes narrow, his attention suddenly diverted from the ongoing conversation.

You feign surprise, tilting your head to the side innocently. “Me? Nothing.”

“Bullshit!” Sage points a finger at you, a mixture of shock and fury on her face. She starts to feel strange, she feels dizzy and her legs are shaking.

You turn back to the large open window, the strong gust of wind causing your hair to flutter and the hem of your uniform to flutter. As you look outside, you subtly step back, closer and closer to the edge, the tips of your feet barely holding onto the edge of the window frame.

“What the hell are you doing Ophera?” he say, his voice sharp. “Get away from the window, where has your fear of great heights gone?”

Your eyes flick toward Homelander, a sly smile playing on your lips as you continue to stand dangerously close to the open window, your words dripping with a hint of manipulation.

“Well, I guess now you finally have a real opportunity to choose, love.”

A moment of silence hangs in the air as they're taken off guard by your audacity. Suddenly, without any warning, you lean back, and with a graceful leap, you launch yourself out of the window.

Homelander's heart skips a beat.

“No…No, don't—” he exclaimed desperately, his body moving on instinct.

The wind immediately engulfs you as the ground rapidly comes closer and closer. You feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins, looking at the blue sky, the thrill of the freefall mixing with the intense rush of the air hitting your back.

In an instant, a blur of red and blue rushes towards you as Homelander flies out, he flies towards you at superhuman speed shattering the glass of the other windows. He moves closing the distance between you and him in mere seconds.

From the window, Sage leans out, looking at you both with disbelief. Her eyes widened, and her mouth hangs open, speechless at the turn of events.

Homelander catches you mid-air, wrapping his arms around you, the wind still rushes around you both. You can feel his hands shaking a bit as he holds you.

You look up at him, a cheeky smirk dancing on your lips. A breathless laugh escapes you, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins. Your heart pounds, and a sense of exhilaration washes over you. The suddenness of your action still hangs in the air, and his surprise is evident in his eyes.

“Ops, I guess you picked me.”

Homelander huffs, his grip on you slightly loosening, relaxing, floating in air with you. He shakes his head, relief and frustration clear on his face.

“You're out of your goddamn mind woman.”

“Maybe I am. But, at least you still care enough to save me.” you chuckle softly, enjoying the moment of his attention.

He rolls his eyes, but you can see a smile on his lips and he's slowly moving in the hair to coming back inside the Tower.

You reach out to caress his face gently, your touch tender against his skin. Your hand trail over his jaw, feeling the slight stubble beneath your fingertips. Your other hand still grips onto the fabric of his suit, holding onto him.

“Y'know...I thought Sage brainwashed you into choosing her over me, but I'm happy to see that's not the case.”

His expression softens a little, his eyes meeting yours.

“Believe me, I think she tried. But she didn’t brainwash me at all.” he grumbles, his voice low. “I’m not that easy to control. You should know that..”

“I know you're far from being easy to control. You’re too stubborn and prideful for that.”

He huffs again, with his bold smirk on his lips. “You’re quite stubborn too, maybe more than me. Just look at your little stunt back there.”

As he lands back inside the room with you in his arms, the scene is a little chaotic. He takes a moment to check you are okay, before his eyes land on Sage, who is now passed out on the floor.

“Was really necessary to poison her? Despite your jealousy he was an excellent strategy member to the team.” he say, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Relax. She's not dead. There wasn't a single drop of poison or anything in her tea.” you look down at Sage's unconscious body, lying motionless on the floor, and a small, satisfied smile lifts the corners of your lips.

“Then why the hell is she passed out?” he asks, puzzled.

You kneel down next to her and tilt your head to the side as you examine her unconscious form. The feeling of triumph washes over you, knowing that you managed to manipulate her fear and doubt to your advantage.

“With a brain like hers, mental deceptions are more effective than anything else. It was enough for me to convince her that she had been poisoned and goodnight little sunshine.”

He lets out a low whistle, impressed by the simplicity of your tactic.

“Damn. You really know how to mess with people's heads.”

There's admiration in his voice. An admiration for you that you can still wear like a medal.

“But you really had to prove a point in such a dramatic manner, huh?”

You stand back up, brushing off your uniform and looking at Homelander with a smug smile.

“I had to do something to prove to her, and you, who your favourite really was.”

-------

Hope you like it! I will calmly continue to write about him based on your ask box requests, I will not leave anyone unsatisfied, I promise <3

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