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elisysd · 1 year ago

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There it goes - Maisie Peters

Masterlist - Previously - Next Chapter

Sunflowers in the kitchen, a heartbreak in remission The univers is shifting and it's all for me

Lyanna was only half-surprised to learn from her lawyer that James had dropped the charges, so it was with a lighter heart that she returned to Monaco a few days later with a huge suitcase, which Joris did not fail to point out to her when he picked her up at the airport.

“What did you put in that suitcase to make it weigh so much?” the young man groaned as he lifted the suitcase into the trunk of the car.

“The essentials” she replied as a matter of fact.

“Yeah? Well you and me don’t have the same definition of what essential means.”

“So.. how is Charles?”

“Didn’t you have him on the phone?”

She gestured that she didn't as they got into the car and Joris started the engine.

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be that kind of couple who is glued to the other and can’t stand to be away from one another for more than five minutes.”

“That’s Charles, not me. But I was busy and he needed to rest. I think it did some good for us to be away from each other.”

“He's insufferable. Pretty much an ass with everyone. He doesn’t want any help from anyone. He says that he doesn’t want to be a burden. His mother is starting to go crazy. I’m avoiding his flat as much as I can since he is always in a bad mood. But the good thing is that he can stand on his own. He apparently looks like a toddler walking for the first time so his mom has to watch him carefully, but there is progress.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how much should I expect him to be a pain in the ass with me?”

“Twelve. He is kind of mean with everyone so brace yourself.”

And indeed, Lyanna had not expected to receive such a poor welcome when she entered the flat. Pascale looked exhausted and Lyanna heard the sigh of relief she breathed as she opened the front door. She had only been away for three days, but it felt like much longer. The curtains were drawn, leaving only a trickle of light filtering through and plunging the flat into an eerie darkness. And it was the middle of the afternoon.

“He's decided to play bear since you left. He doesn't want to see anyone, he hardly leaves his room except when he has to go to hospital to check that his recovery is going well, which thank God it is, the doctors are optimistic that he'll be back on his feet in a few weeks and able to practise again.” Explained Pascale when Lyanna asked her to update her quickly on Charles’ state.

“Is he in his room?”

“Piano room actually. He tries to play but you can guess that with one hand it’s not ideal. Which makes him in an even worst mood.”

“I'll take it from here, Pascale, so you can go home. Thank you for everything.”

“Thank you. I love my son but I need to get away from him.”

As Pascale was leaving, Lyanna heard music coming from Charles's piano. She had the impression that he was pounding the keys rather than playing softly, which worried her. He was really in a bad mood. She knocked on the door but got no answer. She persisted and a muffled but angry voice came from the other side of the door.

“I said I wanted to be alone.”

“Even if you know that I’m here?”

There was no sound from the other side of the door. Lyanna waited a few moments and the door opened. When she pushed it open fully, Charles was sitting at the piano again, his back to her.

“Hey, baby. How are you feeling?” she asked unsure of what to do or say.

He seemed distant, in a way that put her off her feet. He sighed as he got up and sat down on the recliner, swallowing a painkiller as he went.

“I should be the one asking you that.” He replied with a bitter tone.

“Well, I’m not the one who was involved in a car crash a few days ago.”

“Don’t you have something to say to me?”

She sat down opposite him. Charles looked at her with a hardness in his eyes that she did not know. At least it was a look that had never been directed at her before.

“I missed you. It was three busy days but everything has been sorted and I’m all yours.”

“Did James was the reason you were busy?”

She looked at him, wide-eyed. She had planned to talk to him about it, of course. Especially now that everything was settled. She was at peace with herself and could present the situation with the certainty that no nasty surprises were in store for them. Part of her was even looking forward to telling him how she'd cornered James and she hoped Charles would be proud of her. Not that she was looking for his approval.

“Yeah. I’m aware. I found pictures online of you in that restaurant with him grabbing you and you looking afraid. Do you know how helpless I felt and how stupid it made me feel that I was not aware that my girlfriend, the woman I love, the one I shared my deepest fears with, the one with who I want to build something on the long term, decided to lie to me about her business trip.”

“Charles…” she started.

“Don’t. How could you still not trust me? After everything we went through. After everything that we are still going through? Why do you still choose to shut me out?”

“I didn’t want you to worry or to be mad. I was about to tell you everything once I got back.”

“But I don’t want that, Lyanna for fuck’s sake! I want to be the first one you come to when you have a problem, especially if it involved James. Should I remember you what happened the last time you faced him. How scared and broken you looked in my arms?”

“Charles if you could just calm down…”

“Don’t ask me to calm down! I thought we were there for each other in the bad times and in the good but in the span of seventy-two hours I learned that I mentally exhausted you at the hospital to the point that you had to cry in my mother arms. And yes, before you said anything, I heard the conversation. I was a shitty boyfriend and I would have liked for you to come to me to tell me that I was an asshole to you instead of keeping everything bottled up inside you and ended up breaking down. Because of me. It broke my heart, Lyanna. It broke me to know that I broke you. And then, when I was just thinking that you were on business meeting in London, I see your name trending alongside James’ and the first thing I see when I clicked on the link is you getting assaulted. And being completely unaware that you even planned to meet him or why you would even. So no. Don’t ask me to calm down.”

They were both on the verge of tears. Tears of guilt for Lyanna and tears of frustration for Charles.

“He wanted to sue me for defamation after the interview.” She confessed.

“This thing is getting better and better. Do you hide other things or are we good?”

Without a word, she took out her phone and quickly searched for the recording of her conversation with James before handing the device to Charles, who pressed play. As the recording progressed, she could see Charles' eyes darken. She avoided looking at him again, preferring to stare conspicuously at the floor. When the recording finally ended, she dared to look up at Charles, who had his head in his hands. With fearful steps she approached him. Charles felt her close to him and shifted in the armchair so that she could have room to sit.

“I’m going to kill him. I swear, Lyanna, I’m going to kill him.”

“No you don’t. Because this recording is already in the hands of the journalist who interviewed me, as well as in the hands of my lawyer. I trust them and I know they are going to use it wisely. I obviously cut the part where I said that I recorded the conversation. It’s going to leak in the press the same way he leaked the pictures of me. And I hope that now, he will leave me alone.”

“You should not have gone alone.”

“I don’t regret it. I finally have some closure. All those years wondering what I had done wrong to deserve that just to learn that at the end, it was pure jealousy… It was painful to hear that he never loved me. But, you know…all those times when I believed that the only example I had of what love should be was him. I know now that it was not love and it never had been. It’s you, who showed me and keeps showing me what love really is and how it supposed to make me feel. And I’m grateful for that.”

“I told you that before and I’ll keep telling you until you believe it, but you deserve every bit of love that you receive Lyanna. Not only from me. Do you know how much my mom loves you. And it was not off to a good start. But you convinced her and now she can’t stop praising you. It’s cute. Joris thinks you are amazing and funny. Arthur already sees you as his sister-in-law. Pierre thinks you deserve better than me. And the list could go on and on. You are loved Lya.”

“I want to give you a hug but I don’t want to hurt you.”

Charles smiled weakly before taking her hand and kissed her palm.

“I’m still mad at you. But I care more about you being okay than you being with him. And I’m proud of how you handled the situation. I’m proud of you. Even if I would have liked to take part in your scheme.”

“I would have loved for you to be there too but you can’t fight my battles for me. There are some things that I have to do on my own. Now that it is out of the way, tell me about you. What did the doctor say?”

“He is happy with my progress. Still a long way to go but I’m getting there. He thinks in about three weeks I should be able to exercise with Andrea. I will have to take it slow.”

“Yep, and I’ll make sure of that.”

Lyanna straightened up and stretched as Charles did the same. He winced in pain as he touched his ribs, which made Lyanna worried.

“I’m not made of paper, Lya. I’m fine. Don’t worry. Are you up for delivery? I wanted a McDonald so bad. It’s been a while and since I don’t have a diet to follow anymore…” he attempted to wink at her but failed miserably eliciting a little laugh from the actress.

“With a movie?”

“Only if I can choose. You owe me at least that.”

Comfortably settled in Charles's bed, the delivery bag at the foot of the bed and the cardboard boxes emptied everywhere, Lyanna had found a comfortable position in Charles's arms. Snuggled up against him, her head in the crook of his neck, she felt good. Where she belonged. Charles's hand traced little circles down her back as he watched intensely the latest Fast & Furious. The franchise didn't interest her that much. She didn't really understand the hype around the films, but she didn't care about the movie as long as she was there with him.

“I miss racing.” He confessed to her between two action packed scenes.

Lyanna traced Charles' jaw line with her fingertips, forcing him to look at her.

“You are going to go back up there. And you are going to win. I can promise you that.”

“Don’t make empty promises, Lya. Whether I win or I lose, it’s not up to you.”

“It’s not an empty promise. I believe in you. If there is one person that can come back stronger than ever after a crash like that, it’s you. You are my champ and you will always be.”

He planted a kiss on her forehead.

“I’m lucky to have you. Tell me, how long are you going to stay in Monaco? Do you plans to go back to London at some point?”

“I’m not planning of leaving you. I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

“Be careful with your words. I'd be tempted to keep you here, in this flat, forever.”

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author's note: Double update today because why not? As usual, don't forget to like / comment / reblog to suppost the author

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#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #fiction #writing #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x female reader #cl16 #cl16 x reader #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 x oc #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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notesonasubject · 1 year ago

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10.18.23

Today O turned 13 weeks old. He’ll officially be 3 months tomorrow. That is also J’s second birthday. I think I’ll have the girls do a little video and send it to L. She texted me one of the iPhone memory videos of M, when she was a toddler. She seems so big now, looking back.

I’m feeling so out of touch right now. I’m tired and frustrated from feeling like I have to do everything with such little help. It’s easy and hard all at once. In the moment, I can become so exasperated and flustered. Then later I think “wow I can’t believe you got so worked up over that!” I’m trying so hard to be a good mom and I get angry with myself for falling short. S is helpful, as far as husband’s go. But, realistically, he’ll never know how insane this whole experience has been for me.

Becoming a mother has been so intense. So much of the time I feel like I have whiplash. I’ll sit and look at my beautiful children and think “wow we actually have three kids! That happened so quick!” It doesn’t feel that long ago that we were riding our bikes up to the bar together, playing pool and getting totally drunk off of cheap pitchers of beer. Best friends in boozing. I know it probably isn’t a good thing we used to drink so much, but I can’t say I have bad memories from that time. We had so much fun together and out with friends. It feels like it was yesterday, not years ago.

But that time is also riddled with so much loss and sadness. At times, I can’t even begin to process losing my parents. I get frustrated with myself for ruminating on the same shit over and over again. When will the book feel closed? When can I move on?

I think I need to stop looking at Reddit. It would probably also help to not read about celebrities lives. How completely ridiculous. But, to my credit, I did read that we find celebrity lifestyle information so enthralling because we are a social species and, like apes, we feel drawn to knowing about others in our pack. It is imperative for survival to befriend others and to know members’ qualities and characters. We don’t actually know celebrities and never will, but because they are “everywhere” we feel drawn to knowing more.

Anyway, all this to say I’m almost done with Jessica Simpson’s memoir. Having read Pamela Anderson’s and now hers, I have to say they are both complex, empathic, and kind women. It’s awful to know they were treated so badly and thought of so negatively. I made my own shallow assumptions. At the end of the day, all people are people. No one is immune to life’s struggles and pains.

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blueikeproductions · 10 months ago

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To address The GayTM, as some would like to call it, my problem remains that a lot of the couples felt like forced crack ships. I was never ok with Tailgate and Cyclonus being romantically inclined, and it felt more appropriate to have them be a child/parent. Not helped was the conflicting imagery of their human avatars being a stern mother figure type and a toddler. I tend to think Roberts’ original idea to pair up Powerglide & Blitzwing would’ve been better handled, but we’ll never know for sure.

Then you have Drift and Ratchet who are a fairly one note opposites attract choke because devout religious guy and a grumpy atheist. There’s still an age difference vibe that I can’t escape from. I know it was explained to me they’re actually roughly the same age, but I always assumed IDW/G1 Drift was a teenager like Hot Rod for some reason, especially how Drift and Rodimus felt like they had better chemistry. Still old man Ratchet is still a me thing because I always heard Corey Burton’s grumpy gramps take on IDW Ratchet, while Pharma I heard the more insane Jeffrey Combs.

Arcee and Aileron also felt very forced, the kiss comes completely out of left field, (if it was built up towards, that’s one thing, but I don’t think it was. If anything it felt like Arcee and Sideswipe was being set up as a thing, with the protoform G2 Sideswipe basically being their son in a way). There is no denying there’s a huge age difference: Arcee was a warrior granny from prehistoric Cybertron while Aileron was a fresh out of college girl, figuring out the Autobots and such. It felt gross, NGL. Meanwhile IDW2 adjusted accordingly by having Arcee appear with her cute wife Greenlight from the start, and I liked them far better, same with Gauge being their kid. (Though I do have a head canon G2 Sideswipe and Gauge are brother and sister, Swipe being the oldest, lol.)

Minimus Ambus via Ultra Magnus also had this very awkward sexual tension with Megatron that feels… very odd if you’re at all familiar with Magnus and Galvatron’s deadly rivalry in UK Marvel G1 and ReG1.

The straight ships felt awkward too. Tigatron and Airrazor felt like an even hammier version of Silverbolt & BlackArachnia, but in that sickingly sweet high school pet name way people make fun of. BW Airrazor and BW Tigatron had a more subtle budding romance, that felt old fashioned and cordial and it worked there.

Roller and Nickel, like Drift and Ratchet, similarly has this one note gag about how it’s a height difference. A Bulk in love with a Mini-Con. I mean it’s the most harmless of the bunch, but it especially feels tacked on.

And the less said about Onslaught and Blast Off the better. IDW2 again had course corrected with Blast Off having a much more organic romance with Cosmos.

The only one that felt written the best was Chromedome & Rewind, but that was also because they had the most fleshed out story that made it work. The other ships MTMTE tried to focus on felt like it was trying to recapture that Kremzeek in a bottle, but could never stick the little punk back inside. It also helps Chromedome and Rewind are pretty much nobodies so they were more malleable. It does make me wonder how Eject would’ve been used though.

I think IDW2?handled couplings better mostly by treating it as normal and not a ship fic soapbox kinda way, and while Skybound is still young, Ratchet and Arcee being romantically paired off like Animated is surprisingly sweet for what little we see of it.

As for people getting legitimately angry at gay robots, I distinctly remember Treads & Circuits getting backlash for Knock Out and Breakdown kissing. While some of it was legitimate “ew gay people”, most of it was “ew robots kisssiiiiiing….”

IDW’s ultimate problem was it became a fan fic’s fan fic after Furman’s run and only got more indulgent, while its reboot was an overly drawn out political thriller about the first murder since the Three Fold Spark War. It was not clever or as sophisticated as it thought it was, Megatron playing the political arena is not fun, among other creative choices that made the story feel like a slog.

I'm so glad someone else brought up how insular IDW felt, I thought I was insane for thinking along the lines of a similar thing. To me IDW1 felt like a continuity made by the fandom for the fandom, and despite some of its great writing decisions it often felt flat and hollow in a lot of important aspects. The lack of communication between writers and failure to maintain basic narrative and thematic cohesion as well as characterization reminded me a lot of in-fandom arguments over interpretations and headcanons

It took on too much and stretched itself thin resulting in sidelined characters, bastardized character dynamics/relationships or forgotten plots. People praised IDW1's lore and worldbuilding but personally I don't think there was much of it at all and very little of it was to a good enough standard when you consider how long IDW held the licence. It told us a lot and yet nothing at all, which would have been a genius move had it at all been intentional– something I often found myself saying in relation to IDW1 and content inspired by it, which was around post 2010-ish give or take probably

Like I said, I firmly believe that IDW was essentially made by fandom, for fandom, but a very, very narrow cross-section of such. James Roberts, who was arguably the architect for most of it, was a fanfic writer and someone who wanted to make elements of his fanfics canon. Many of the writers were buddy-buddy with TFWiki moderators and the dingus behind Shortpacked, oftentimes parroting their opinions, which was that if you didn't like what they were making, you were a chud or a creep that wanted the entire brand to be Kiss Players. Especially as romance became more and more of a focus on the series, the idea was not "This is boring, I want to see robots punching each other and blowing things up", but "I don't want to see this because it's gay", which is a far easier position to defend. Even when they lost the license, Kit Harrison of IDW insinuated that the complaints were all homophobic in nature.

As an aside, while I think Kiss Players was terrible, it was literally nothing but a side-story manga and some collector's toys. That would be like me saying all the Western-created Transformers media is garbage because of The Car Wash of Doom, Afterdeath, that scene in Age of Extinction where the guy spells out the Romeo and Juliet Law in detail, the complete waste of Sir Anthony Hopkins that was The Last Knight, The Rebirth, numerous parts of Cyberverse, the WFC Trilogy, etc.

Anyway, because the audience was so narrow, it made sense that the audience that it did cultivate was so passionate about the material, but Greek to any audience outside of it, resulting in low sales and general dismissal from a casual audience. Any similarities to how fanfic is written, especially fanfic that has an active follower community and people addressing the work in progress, were purposeful, because that was the world that the writers came from, and the world that they were used to.

And then there were the attempts to integrate those ideas into shows, as shown by WFC not getting a sequel because Netflix said no, as well as Cyberverse and now Earthspark toys rotting on shelves in your local Ollies or Lot Less.

My conclusion remains the same. IDW was overly insular, fanfic-style writing, for people who liked that, and they could not care one iota about anyone outside of that little circle. Especially if you were a fan of super robots, humans that weren't complete jerks, or the mystic elements of the Transformers mythos. And this is why now even Duke's miniseries pretty much outsells anything that IDW published. (To be fair, Duke's miniseries is pretty good).

#blueike #transformers

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hello-nichya-here · 3 years ago

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Azula - Double Standards And The Curse Of Being Gifted

One of the things that was always very clear in fandom is that Azula was just never talked about as a literal child who was intentionally raised, groomed and practically brainwashed by Ozai into. I’ve seen people who didn’t realize that not only was not an adult, she was actually younger than Zuko. There are many, many, many reasons why fans either get confused about her actual age or flat out deny that her being 14 has any effect on her character and story (spoilers: it does) - mysoginy, racism, ableism, anti-azula bias, the way she was drawn, the age of her voice actress - however, there is one thing that I think is mainly responsible for how Azula is perceived: the characters the narrative is constantly pushing as the good guys (Zuko, Ursa, and especially Iroh) don’t think of her as a child, and that point of view is rarely questioned in the show, and full on endorsed in the comics.

The first time we see her in the series, is when Iroh is telling the story about Zuko’s scar. Her reaction is compared to Zhao’s, an adult man who is a dick to Zuko for no real reason other than liking to kicking someone when they’re down. We didn’t even know her name, or that she was related to Zuko in any way, or that she wasn’t just a random background character, but we were already being encouraged to see her as a completely horrible person mocking the suffering of someone who was in a very dangerous situation.

When we do find out who she is, she’s once again shown as someone who is at a greater advantage than Zuko. “ Everything always came easy to her. She's a firebending prodigy, and everyone adores her. My father says she was born lucky. He says I was lucky to be born”

Yet that’s not actually true, is it? Azula might be a prodigy, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t work hard to be as powerful as she was, and everyone’s “adoration” for her is so shallow that is completely lonely and it drives her mad. And while Zuko has every right to be mad that his father has no faith in him and thinks he is worthless, he never stops to think “Is it fair that he is putting so much pressure on my sister and then dismissing her success at every task he puts her to as just dumb luck?” and the writers don’t seem to think of that as a problem or as a potential scenario to explore and help him grow as a character. Ozai robbed his children of the possibility of having a healthy sibling relationship and caused BOTH of them some serious psychological damage, and not only do the writers not allow Zuko to see through this manipulation when he is older, the war is over, and Azula is at her lowest, but they also seem to think that Azula is just as guilty as Ozai, if not more, for the exact same thing. Zuko gets a pass despite being older, Azula should just know better. The comics double-down on this to an absurd degree, to the point that one scene implies that Azula was already evil when she was 2-years-old because Zuko had a nightmare about her. I repeat, the writers said that 4-year-old Zuko was traumatized, and that the person responsible for that trauma was not, say, his abusive father, but rather a literal toddler.

In “Zuko Alone” we see Ursa’s parenting skills. They’re not great, to put it mildly. When Zuko does something wrong - throwing bread at a turtleduck’s head) she is shocked, but asks him why he did it, explains why it was wrong, and then laughs at the situation and gives him a hug to lighten up the mood (it’s also telling that this scene is meant to show Azula is cruel to animals, but does it by showing Zuko imitating her behavior, and being forgiven for not knowing any better despite being older). Azula, at best, gets a somewhat cold “We don’t speak this way”, and at worse gets an angry “Young lady, not another word” followed by a completly inappropriate “What’s wrong with that child?” And the worse part is that if you look at the situation critically for two seconds, you do find out what exactly is wrong with that family: They’re imperialist that see nothing wrong with laughing at a joke about how Iroh will burn Ba Sing Se to the ground, but Ursa also expects Azula to know that this kind of joke is only okay when it’s at the expense of someone who is not “one of them”, doesn’t understand why that confuses Azula, doesn’t try to help her understand it like she did with Zuko, and doesn’t recognize that the cruel comments at Iroh’s expense quite clearly came from Ozai, who was always jealous of his brother. Once again, Azula is expected to just magically know better and to correct her inappropriate behavior, even though what her family and her entire nation considers appropriate is some completely fucked up shit.

In “The Chase” when Zuko so much as mentions that he expects his uncle to say he should try to get along with Azula since they’re siblings, Iroh immediately goes “No, she’s crazy and needs to go down” and that sentiment is quite clearly how the show (and especially the comics) expects us to see Azula’s actions of trying to capture the people Ozai told her to capture (something Zuko is still trying to do and that Iroh helped him with for three years) and conquering Ba Sing Se (something Iroh tried to do). Her older brother and their uncle, a fully grown adult, get as pass. She gets labeled as crazy.

In “The Awakening” Azula throws Zuko under the bus to save her own skin when she realizes the Avatar might be alive. It is a completely fucked up, unfair thing to do, especially to your family. Is also exactly what Zuko unknowingly did to her by not telling her Aang might have survived and what he KNOWINGLY did to Iroh by stabbing him in the back and letting him be captured so Ozai would accept him back. On “The Day Of Black Sun” he also tells Ozai that Azula was the one who failed to kill Aang. Zuko is forgiven for his betrayal towards Iroh, and the fact that he threw Azula under the bus twice is not acknowledged, ever. Azula is demonized, because, say it with me, she was supposed to just magically know better, see past Ozai’s manipulation, and figure out that she should not be loyal to him after all. She was expected to do that imediately. Her older brother got to screw things up and not be labeled as a lost cause pretty much the entire show.

Iroh never tries to reach out to her in any way. He tells the story about Sozin and Roku solely to Zuko, says he is THE ONLY ONE who can choose between good and evil and that is not too late FOR HIM, and is outraged that his brother challenged him to an Agni Kai when he was 13. He refuses to kill Ozai, and in The Legacy Of The Fire Nation he expresses regret over not having done more to help him. In the finale he tells Zuko to fight and kill 14-year-old Azula, and in the comics he has no problem with the fact that Zuko sent her to an asylum the abused her for at least an entire year (likely more), while Ozai is in a regular prison. In one of the novelizations of the show, he mentions how “defeating” Azula was Zuko becoming a real man. Even Ozai is treated with more humanity than 14-year-old Azula, by Iroh, Zuko, and the writers. You’ll easily find fans claiming she’s worse than he ever was, even though he made her be that way, and unlike him, she actually demonstrated regret - despite no one ever bothering to actually teach her how to.

Azula is a smart, powerful, dangerous character. Her firebending is unique, both in it’s color and in how she uses it (using just two fingers instead of a fist, to be more precise) despite there being no indication anyone taught her that since, again, she seems to be the only one who knows how to do it. She knows everything about her nations history (or at least about the very biased and incorrect version she was taught), and she knows how to copy the behavior we see in adults, mostly her father. She’s incredibly mature. All of that is used against her at many different points by many different characters, and the same happens outside of the avatar-verse.

But she’s still 14. She’s still a child-soldier. She was still failed by every adult around her. She doesn’t know the basics of how a minimally healthy relationship should work (be it romance, friendship, or family dynamics) or of why her nation was wrong for starting a war.

She knows how to pretend she’s an adult. It doesn’t mean that everyone in her life should have treated her as one, it doesn’t make the fact that Ozai took advantage of her any less real and disgusting, it doesn’t mean that it was okay for Iroh and Ursa to never offer her any guidance, and it sure as fuck doesn’t mean that it was okay that Comics!Zuko is treating her the same way Ozai treated him.

#azula meta #azula deserved better #abuse mention #ableism #atla comics #the comics suck

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nestofstraightlines · 2 years ago

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At some point on a podcast I was listening to a writer* said something which really - gradually - changed how I perceive things.

It’s not an observation or idea that sounds super profound but that’s almost the point - it’s the little things we just take for absolute granted which have the most power.

He was chatting with the hosts, also writers, about having good and bad writing days, and though he agreed that though there were days when he felt positive and days when he felt awful about what he’d produced, when he looked back after even a day or so - however long it took to be outof that relationship with the writing and look on it more objectively, there was no difference in the quality of what he’d written on a ‘bad’ day and what he’d written on a ‘good’ day.

At a glance that’s an idea I think most people would reject - one might think, “sure that might be the case for a professional writer but I really do have bad days” but I found the more I checked it out the more its true.

I started wondering about my own writing and realising that it was true - writing that I was sure was the clunkiest stupidest lines anyone had ever forced onto a screen was exactly as good as the stuff that had flowed and I’d felt pleased with.

I’m not very regular about writing so it’s easier for me to see the evidence in a regular creative thing I do do, life drawing, which really has the power to put me in a bad mood, because it’s a genuine challenge. Some nights I’m lighthearted and can find that zen flow of observational drawing, other nights I feel like I have a the manual dexterity of a toddler in my control of a pen.

So it’s something where my feeling about how well I’m drawing/have just drawn waver, and the quality of my drawings absolutely also wavers - and it’s never really occurred to be that those things can both be true without them actually correlating. But they don’t correlate. When I look back, I’m pretty consistent. My worst drawings don’t come from the weeks I felt worst about or my best from the weeks I felt best.

And it’s just one of those things which I think once it occurred to you it might be the case, it settles in and subtly changes your whole outlook.

It won’t reduce the times when you feel frustrated or angry or sad about badly you feel you’re doing on your creative thing that day. But it does make you less at the mercy of that feeling. It might even allow you to recognise those stormy or melancholic feelings about your work less as information that you have to take seriously and more as evidence of how much care and passion you feel for the thing.

* Man, I can’t remember. It was definitely a comedy writer. Chris Addison? Andy Stanton? Mat Baynton? Someone like that

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tiny-smallest · 2 years ago

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day three - responsibility

Rating: G Characters: Henry Warnings: child abuse (kids raising kids because the parents suck) Description: Raising children is a lot of hard work, but it’s something Henry is gaining experience in.

(Features an oc.)

Also on AO3!

---

Harry was such a sweet baby. Henry would have the worst day imaginable and then pick him up from daycare to be greeted with that big smile and a poorly drawn doodle of the two of them, and babbles about his day and what children he played with and what games they played and Henry would let the words wash over him and feel a little lighter.

And other times Henry would pick him up from daycare and be greeted with grumbles and whines, cranky mutters and scowls.

This was rare. Henry knew how to help Harry leave- give him a timetable. Give him a few goldfish crackers. Patient, gentle reminders about the upcoming departure. Henry never understood when parents complained about children throwing screaming tantrums about leaving the house, the playground, or the schoolyard- it was so easy. Just let them know they had fifteen minutes left, give them a warning at the ten and five minute marks, and then soften the blow a little with a bit of a snack.

Henry further didn't understand when he overheard parents drag their children through the mud verbally- talking about how impossible and unruly they were.

But he did understand, sometimes, the crushing exhaustion of coming from a stressful, awful day and finding an angry toddler waiting for you. It made him feel slimy, but he understood, now and again, the urge to scream, to hit- to hurt.

But then he would remember how that felt, and that Harry was so very small and still didn't know how to control what he was feeling and how that manifested. He'd remember a little boy, broken and angry from several different griefs drawing on the wall and being slapped around for it instead of spoken to like a person, and he would take a few deep breaths and tell Harry that wasn't how to use his words.

"We don't talk like that. We don't yell without saying sorry. We don't hurt people on purpose."

It was a lot, to remember to restrain himself. It was even more to realize, oh my god, with every word, I shape an entire person's PERSONALITY.

He was fourteen. Was he really qualified to do that? Could he do a good job- was there even a prayer that he'd do a good job? What if he just hurt him worse? Toddlers didn't come with instruction manuals!

But there was nobody else to do that. There was nobody else willing to try (minus Sammy and Joey, anyway) and if Henry didn't gently prod and poke at the clay of his developing mind...

Well, other people would. Harry's parents would. His siblings.

Not with love or patience, but with harsh words and punishments for acting out.

So when Harry brought him angry little fists and cranky tears and wordless shrieking, Henry counted to ten, found his patience, and vowed to be better than everyone who came before him.

#the ink demonth #bendy and the ink machine #batim henry #strike up the band au #my writing

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labellerose-acheron · 2 years ago

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Belle was not having a good time.

She hadn't really expected to, this party was not something she would've thrown for Opal if asked, but her opinion didn't matter anymore. Opal was old enough to have her own and she had plenty of them. From what the food would be (lots of sweets), to the unicorn (a favour called in to Ella and Bambi), to the outfits.

When Belle had first come downstairs in the new dress she'd bought just for the party, Opal had made a face.

"Maman, it's a fantasy tea party."

"Fancy tea party," Belle corrected with a smile. "This is a fancy dress. When do you ever see Maman wear something this? Only to very special things."

"I don't like it."

Belle's face had collapsed. Who knew her self esteem could be so affected by a toddler. Well, perhaps it was just because her adult daughter hated her so much she'd probably say the same sort of thing just to make her cry. (Though, she'd probably know better. Or, maybe she'd know Belle too well and know that was exactly what to say.) The Opal she'd been talking to then, though, was too little for that. So, instead, Belle smoothed her face out.

"That's not very nice," she said sternly.

Opal had looked back at her.

"I'm going to wear it anyway, because I like it."

Opal considered this. "Okay, Maman." She went back to flouncing about the garden.

And then, Toulouse had changed. He'd already been around the house for most of the day. Helping to decorate and make everything perfect in a way that Belle knew she never would've been able to manage on her own and which made her resentful enough she'd contemplated pushing him off the ladder into the rose bushes. (It wouldn't hurt him! He was a bloody werewolf.)

"Oh, Tonton! Look at your flowers!" Opal had squealed when Toulouse had reappeared. "I love them, you look beautiful!"

Belle had been stewing ever since. Not even petting the lovely, gentle unicorn had made her feel better. (Okay, maybe it had. Just a bit.) Instead, she stayed sulking, playing on the blanket with young Bellamy and Aidan and following them about the garden.

But now, it was time for a toast and Belle was drawn back into the little semicircle around her very please daughter. She smiled at Bellamy, took her tea cup.

"To Opal," she cheered along with everyone else and then took a sip of the lovely, warm tea. She felt it warm her up from the inside. Despite the little environmental spell they'd gotten from Howl, Belle was still a little chilly. But now, she was warm. Actually, she started to feel feverish and angry and--

"I'm not calling you a liar--" The melody came from nowhere. It came from somewhere deep in Belle's belly, where all her anger sat.

"You said this could have been the best thing / That ever happened to you, so you decided not to do it / Now you come back every summer like a carnivorous flower..."

Belle glanced around frantically, not sure what was happening--she wanted to apologize. Except she didn't. And even if she did, she didn't think she could. She knew what this was. But who and how and what? It wasn't even Valentine's Day!

[belle's outfit][lou's outfit]

Love From The Other Side || Loud Bell

#swynhades #swyntoulouse #helle #bellou #loud bell #love from the other side #i knew you were gonna title it this #lookbook #back to the future arc #this is long but i needed to set it up

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cherienymphe · 4 years ago

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xoxo (Peter Parker x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, roofie use, Stark!Peter, snobby rich people, Peter’s an ass (I believe @opheliadawnwalker3 coined the term “baby Ransom”)

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary: Peter Stark, the adopted son of the playboy philanthropist Tony Stark, has been a pain in your ass for years. Ever the womanizer, you always brushed off his flirtatious behavior as part of his personality, unaware of just how deeply his feelings ran.

You leaned against the bar with a grimace, nursing the strong drink in your hand as the annoying sound of high-pitched laughs and fake compliments drifted up from downstairs, swirling around you. You glanced over your shoulder to look down at the rest of the guests before rolling your eyes at this soiree that was nothing more than a pissing contest for the rich and snooty.

You truly hated being the daughter of a wealthy CEO more often than not. You’d grown up with the kind of lifestyle that more than half the world would never taste, ignorant to not only reality, but the true inner workings of the business that funded your lifestyle. It wasn’t until your junior year of high school when the rug was ripped out from underneath you, exposing the dark truth.

Now, you detested everything about this lifestyle. From the preferential treatment to the fancy parties, you hated everything that came with it. Despite the fact that you were an adult now, your father still had an iron grip on you no matter how much you pretended he didn’t. It was why instead of going on a humanitarian trip with some friends from college for winter break, you were back in the big apple, the upper east side to be exact, surrounded by a bunch of brownnosers.

“Another please,” you murmured, setting your empty glass down onto the bar.

The bartender was quick in giving you a refill, but before the glass met your lips, a finger slid in between to gently push it away. A sigh escaped you before you even turned your head, the familiar smell of his cologne reaching your nose.

“You’re always off by yourself at these little gatherings…”

You turned towards the voice, eyes meeting his dark ones as a playful smirk danced along his pink lips. His brown hair was neatly pushed away from his face, suit fitting him to perfection. He looked so put together and very much like a gentleman. Too bad that you knew better.

“Someone like me might take it as an invitation to approach you.”

You fully turned in your seat, leaning your elbow on the bar to gaze at him, unimpressed, cheek resting on your hand. He too was leaning on the bar, signaling for the bartender to get him a drink, already sliding into the seat in front of you. You could’ve protested, but he wouldn’t listen anyway.

Peter Stark was the bane of your existence. Adopted by the great Tony Stark when he was just a toddler, a big ordeal that made the papers apparently, the dark-haired male grew up in the same environment you did. The same circles. You went to the best schools together, often times having the same batch of friends. He always had the teachers and just about every other adult fooled, but everyone else knew better.

Peter’s charm was notorious. Those soft brown eyes and boyish good looks could have any girl swooning at his feet. He was so good that most girls didn’t even mind being one of the many. As long as they were a number, they didn’t care. Let them tell it, he had a way of making every single one of them feel special. You probably would’ve been one of them had you not seen his behavior firsthand all those years ago. How he’d tell one girl one thing and say something completely different to the next.

Peter’s constant flirtations with you and your absolute refusal to ever even entertain him had made your relationship…interesting. Could you even call yourselves friends? He flirted with you, and you rolled your eyes at his antics. That was the gist of it. His behavior had only gotten worse once you’d denounced this lifestyle the minute you left for college, a non-Ivy League college at that.

You remembered the surprise you felt that Peter had seemed to be genuinely upset with the 180 you’d done with your lifestyle. You had rolled your eyes as he’d called you all sorts of ‘wannabe’ this and ‘wannabe’ that, biting your tongue as he insulted your ‘low rate school’. Even now, after a little over 2 years, he still sneered whenever he brought up your new life.

“Color me shocked you even showed up today. Last I heard you were going to build houses for children,” he said, nursing his drink.

You smirked at him, fighting back a laugh.

“Last you heard? Keeping tabs on me, Stark?”

He returned your smirk, dark eyes trailing over you, gaze lingering on whatever skin your short dress exposed. You weren’t fazed by his conspicuous onceover, more than used to it.

“Of course. I have to make sure my best girl stays out of trouble,” he told you, leaning in.

You scoffed, looking away from him as you downed your drink.

“Your best girl,” you dryly repeated, standing. “Yeah, okay.”

Peter hurried to stand with you, whistling at the bartender as you walked away. It wasn’t long before you felt his arm being thrown over your shoulder as he pulled you against him. He waved an expensive bottle of champagne in your face as he walked down the hall with you.

“You may have switched up and hate me now-.”

“I’ve always hated you,” you deadpanned.

“…but you can’t deny that I know how to throw a party within a party,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard you. “Ned and I are having a little get together in the penthouse suite.”

He wasn’t wrong, and you sighed as you thought about how angry you’d been to be forced back home for the break instead of doing what you wanted to do. You could honestly use the distraction, at least for a little while until you had to be in your father’s presence again. You sighed again, and by the grin on Peter’s lips, you knew that he knew that he had you.

“Fine. Lead the way,” you said with a flourish.

His grin widened, and he pulled you closer as he took you to the elevator. You leaned against the mirrored wall once inside, staring at your reflection with a frown.

“You shouldn’t frown so much,” he said, pressing the button. “It’ll give you premature wrinkles.”

“Why are you so concerned with how I age?”

He unbuttoned his suit jacket, approaching you as he swung the bottle of champagne in his hand.

“I want you to age as gracefully as me when we get married,” he teased, pressing his free hand onto the wall beside your head.

You laughed, shaking your head.

“I’d never marry you, and you… Well, you’d never get married,” you said with a shrug, shaking your head.

His grin dimmed a bit as his eyes met yours.

“I’d marry you,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes, head leaning back against the wall as he moved closer, pressing his forearm to the wall, face suddenly serious as he eyed you. It was his turn to sigh now, the sound heavy and drawn out.

“When…are you and I finally going to get together?” he slowly asked, voice low in the quiet elevator.

Your eyes widened just a tad, nose brushing his as he leaned in. Peter hadn’t asked you that for some time now. It was a recurring question of his that you always brushed off, and even though this time was no different, something in his voice made you blink. There was a yearning that had never been there before. Something new lingering in his eyes.

You laid your hand on his chest, pushing him away, and he let you.

“Seriously, Peter? You know the answer to that question,” you said.

He huffed, his grin returning as he shook your rejection off.

“You know I always have to ask…just in case you change your mind,” he replied, quickly scanning your frame.

The elevator dinged, and the doors parted behind him, the low hum of a small party reaching your ears.

“I’m never going to change my mind.”

Without a second glance, you brushed past him to exit the elevator.

“You need to start getting serious about your future, Y/N.”

You stared out of the tinted window, watching the city fly by as your father’s car weaved in and out of traffic. He was giving you yet another lecture on what he thought you should be doing with your future. After all, it wasn’t like you had already decided on a major and knew exactly what you wanted to do with your life, so you could understand his- oh. Wait… You had!

“Dad,” you sighed. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Humanities isn’t a real major,” he argued for the umpteenth time, tone laced with contempt.

You cut in before he could continue.

“First of all, it is. Second of all, it’s my minor-.”

“Oh, of course. How silly of me to forget that- what is it? International relations? That’s the major, right?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shaking your head.

“You know, I’ll never understand you kids. So fickle with your goals-.”

“Dad, I’ve had the same plan since before I even went to college. You can’t call it fickle just because at 17 I told you I didn’t want to follow in your footsteps. I’ve known what I wanted since then. Its literally the opposite of fickle,” you huffed.

You heard him sigh.

“I don’t understand what happened here, Y/N. I really don’t. Ever since you were little, you wanted to follow in my footsteps-.”

“…and now I don’t. Things happen,” you told him. “I don’t want anything to do with this lifestyle.”

You’d told him this a hundred times. You were so tired of having the same discussion, and you knew that he was too.

“Why can’t you be more like Peter?”

You frowned, finally looking over at him. This was a new tactic. The older man had his eyes focused on the paper as he continued to speak.

“He’s following behind Tony swimmingly, a real successor in the making,” he praised.

You fought the urge to groan and sink down in your seat like a child. Never in your wildest dreams did you think your father would be comparing you to Peter Stark of all people.

“You’re comparing me to Peter now?” you scoffed.

The paper ruffled as he turned it, humming.

“I’m just noting that the two of you came up together, but you somehow deviated so far off track.”

“Well, since you love Peter so much, just pass the company onto him when the time comes. God knows he’ll appreciate it way more than I will,” you grumbled.

Your father hummed at that.

“I actually have hopes that, in some way, the company will be his one day,” he replied.

Your brows furrowed, confusion filling you as you fought to understand what he meant. Your father’s eyes finally met yours, a serious look on his face.

“Peter’s exactly the kind of man you should be considering when you finally get ready to get married.”

Shock poured over you like a bucket of ice water, his words having been the last thing you expected to hear. Marriage? Peter? You blinked a few times, fighting to clear your head enough to articulate what you were thinking.

“You…you can’t be serious…?”

He fixed you with a stern look.

“As a heart attack. What is there to oppose? Peter is young and handsome and well brought up. He’ll be taking over after Tony one day, and you really can’t do much better than that. Unless you’re aiming to be the next Meghan Markle, but no offense sweetheart, you don’t strike me as the type,” he elaborated.

You pressed your hand to your forehead as your mind spun.

“I’m not telling you to marry him or anything. I’d never go so far to participate in something as archaic as an arranged marriage. I’m just telling you to consider it. He’s a good match for you, and I’d like you to be open to it…”

You couldn’t begin to believe how sharply this morning had turned.

“It’s why you’ll be seeing a lot more of him over the break. Just keep it in mind when we meet with them,” he said.

He must have noted the confusion on your face because he continued.

“We’re meeting them for brunch. Tony wants to run his latest idea by me, and we figured it would give you and Peter more time to catch up,” he explained.

The car had finally stopped just as he finished, and you didn’t have time to process anything before you were being ushered out of the car. The brisk air whipped around you as you followed your father into the fancy restaurant.

Your father wanted you to marry Peter? The idea was so absurd that you actually considered the possibility that your father was playing a joke on you. You felt like you were having an out of body experience as you and your father sat down, you across from Peter. As always, he looked absolutely tickled to see you, while you simply returned his grin with a withering stare.

Brunch was a taxing affair. Tony Stark greeted you as politely as he always did before he and your father got right down to business. That left you and Peter with no one but each other to look at. You did your best to ignore the annoying brunette sitting across from you, barely speaking with him no matter how many times he tried to engage you in conversation.

You supposed that your behavior towards Peter was a bit unfair. After all, it wasn’t his fault that your father wanted you to marry him. Although, as you thought back to your conversation in the elevator the other day, you had to wonder if he knew, or at the very least, had some idea. And that was exactly what you asked him once you were alone.

Your father and Tony had gone back to Tony’s office in a hurry to remedy some oversight that had been missed. You’d been left with your father’s car and driver, and you eyed Peter, waiting for his answer, as you made your way outside.

“Not really, no.”

You slid into the backseat, thanking the driver before scooting as far away from Peter as possible as he joined you.

“Not really or no? Those are two different answers,” you told him.

A smirk danced along his lips as he leaned his head back, turning it ever so slightly to gaze at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I had an idea. The great Mr. Y/L/N never came outright and said it, but little things he’d say here and there started to add up,” he explained with a chuckle.

He apparently found this funny while you did not. You crossed your arms over your chest, anger bubbling within you at the thought of your father playing matchmaker behind your back. Peter reached for your hand, attempting to pull it away from your chest, but you jerked it away as soon as his fingers brushed yours. He sucked his teeth.

“Come on. Would marrying me really be so bad?”

You turned to fully face him, not a hint of humor on your face.

“Yes,” you answered, voice steady with conviction.

He simply rolled his eyes, lips twitching, and you shook your head with a scoff.

“Is your father in on this too? God, I bet Tony Stark is just eating this up,” you complained.

The tone of Peter’s chuckle gave you pause, and you eyed him as he grinned at you.

“Quite the opposite actually…”

You frowned, and God help you, because you found yourself…offended.

“He thinks I’m not good enough for you or something?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

You didn’t want to marry Peter, but you knew that you were more than good enough for a guy like him. The truth was that Peter wasn’t good enough for you. He shook his head, picking at a piece of lint on your shoulder as he hummed.

“No actually. In fact, he’d dare say that you are out of my league, and I’d be forced to agree,” he told you with a shrug. “He thinks you’re too much of a ‘wild card’.”

Now it was your turn to chuckle, nodding as you understood what that meant.

“I see. So he wants you to marry a meek and submissive little thing who will do everything you say and conform to the Stark image. Got it,” you replied with a smirk.

He returned it, finger trailing along your collarbone now as he eyed you.

“He thinks that you march to the beat of your own drum…and you do…,” he said, smirk growing as his gaze met yours. “…but I think I can handle you just fine.”

You slapped his hand away, disgust filling you just as the car stopped.

“We’re at your place. Get out,” you sneered, looking away from him.

“Care to join me? No one’s home…we’ll have the whole place to ourselves…”

You opted for ignoring him and the way his voice lowered, the hidden meaning in his question loud and clear. When some time passed, he finally sighed, and you heard the car door open. When it didn’t close, you turned to see Peter standing outside, one hand pressed onto the top of the car door while the other rested on the hood of the car as he leaned down.

A dark strand fell out of place and brushed along his forehead, dark eyes somehow darker as he trailed them over your tense form. His smirk slowly fell, and you blinked at the less than humorous expression on his face. You could count the number of times on one hand that you��d seen Peter so serious.

“You really shouldn’t try so hard to show your dislike for me…”

You frowned at him, and the corner of his mouth curved upwards just a tad.

“…someone might think you’re playing hard to get.”

Before you could process that, he’d closed the door. He didn’t go inside right away, instead opting for standing on the curb to watch your father’s car drive away.

When your father said that you’d be seeing a lot more of Peter over the break, you underestimated just how determined the old man was to get you and the Stark heir together. Every innocent gathering turned into a run-in with Tony and his wife, Pepper, and Peter. Whether it was brunch or dinner or a shopping trip. Hell, even an innocent day at the park had you coming face to face with who you now liked to refer to as ‘the pain in your ass’.

Had you known that this is what your winter break would entail, you would have fought tooth and nail with your father on it. You felt like this was such a waste of time, one big joke that you’d walked into and you were the punchline. You had no idea how much worse it could get.

You were currently in the hallway of the home that belonged to none other than the Starks. You were killing time by fleetingly looking at the artwork that was hung up on the dark walls, a half empty glass of some brown liquor in your hand. You could hear the voices of Tony, Pepper, and your father drifting to you from the lounge, and you rolled your eyes.

When your father had told you that you’d be joining them for dinner, you thought it’d be in their apartment in the city. Some place that you could easily escape if need be. You never would have agreed if you’d known you’d be in upstate New York hours later, conversing with them in one of their many secluded vacation houses. Dinner was long over, and you had no desire to be privy to anymore of their business talk. Peter had scurried off to only God knows where, and you couldn’t be bothered to care.

Perhaps you should have.

Your mood soured even further as you felt an arm slide over your shoulders to curl around your neck, pulling you back into a firm chest. Peter hummed, and you sighed. The story of your lives.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he wondered, gesturing to the painting. “I picked it out. I thought it would brighten the place up a bit.”

You threw his arm off of you, and he chuckled.

“Don’t look so glum, Y/N. The grownups are knee deep into stock market talk, which means they won’t even think about us for another hour at the least…”

You looked to the ceiling as he slipped an arm around your waist, praying for some higher power to strike you down. Or him. You’d be happy either way.

“Surely we can find some way to keep ourselves occupied,” he murmured.

You turned to face him and turned your head again just in time for his lips to brush the skin of your cheek. You pushed yourself away from him with a frown, backing up until your back rested against the opposite wall.

“Whatever happened to MJ?” you suddenly asked him, a faint smile on your lips as you took a sip of your drink.

Peter smirked, leaning against the other wall as he stared you down, raising an eyebrow at you, dark suit hugging him nicely.

“Keeping tabs on me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Hardly,” you snorted. “My father likes to bring up you and your personal life every chance he gets. Of course, now I know why. I was shocked to find out that you had a girl in your life who stuck around for more than two months.”

“She was too much like you,” he dismissively said. “She wanted to travel and see the world and make a difference. There’s only room for one girl like that in my life. Anything more, and things would start to get a little…dull.”

You hummed, pushing away from the wall to walk past him. Peter followed, and your mind spun.

“What exactly are you going to do when I finally meet a nice guy to get serious with? Surely, this behavior can’t go on forever, Peter,” you wondered.

He grabbed your elbow and gently pushed you into the wall. His other hand was beside your head, dark eyes narrowed and inquiring. You sharply inhaled, unintentionally breathing in the scent of him, and you blinked.

“What nice guy could you possibly meet at that sad excuse of a school you call-?”

“I don’t know how to break it to you that an Ivy League education isn’t exactly the picture of intelligence you think it is,” you sneered at him.

His own face grew taut as he glared at you, tilting his head to the side.

“Is that why you turned down your acceptance to Princeton? To prove some silly point?”

“For your information, Peter, I turned down my acceptance because I learned that the main reason I got in was because of my father.”

“So what? What is the point of our parents working their asses off for years if not to give us the opportunities they didn’t have growing up? When are you going to drop this holier-than-thou wannabe Mother Teresa act?”

“It’s not an act,” you spat, shoving him away from you. “This world? This way of life and everything that comes with it? I hate it. I despise everything about it. Its sickening that we live like we do while people down the street struggle to keep a roof over their heads. What is it to you, anyway?”

Peter ran his hand through his hair, huffing as he stared you down.

“You and me?” he started, gesturing between the two of you, his other hand on his hip. “We could’ve been unstoppable together. We were supposed to go to Princeton together. We were supposed to leave our mark on that campus together, create a legacy, and make a name for ourselves on our own, and instead I’m doing that by myself while you go off galivanting down south-.”

“Is that what this is about?” you demanded, incredulity filling your voice. “…some fantasy in your mind that we’d be some power couple who’d go on to take over after our fathers and rule the upper east side? Seriously? That’s a new one, even for you.”

Peter’s jaw clenched as he glared at you, nostrils flaring as he ran his eyes over you with the nastiest look you’d ever seen on his boyish face.

“You can run all you like…reinvent yourself all you want…”

His voice lowered as he approached you, and you stood your ground, glowering at him.

“…but you will never escape this life,” he threw at you, and you flinched at his harsh tone.

“That may be true…but I can still try,” you whispered.

The corner of his lips lifted into a mocking smirk.

“Try all you want. Hell, jump into a relationship with the next guy you have some anthropology project with for all I care. We both know that the only guy to give you the life you deserve…to give you what you need…”

He reached to fix a stray hair that had come out of place, smirk smug and eyes smugger.

“…is a guy like me.”

You stumbled away from him with a frown, arms folded over your chest.

“Screw you, Peter.”

You turned away from him to go find your father.

Peter had always been an annoying thorn in your side, but his behavior tonight had reached new heights. It amazed you, really, how far he was willing to go just to finally get you into bed. He had never had any problem being an asshole, but there was a shift in him tonight. His tone was harsher, words meaner, eyes just a tad bit icier than normal. In fact, it almost seemed like it wasn’t his usual cruel teasing.

When you finally neared the lounge, you frowned at the words that reached you.

“She’ll probably be a bit bitter about it at first, but I’m sure Y/N will grow to love it. This will be an amazing opportunity for her.”

You recognized your father’s voice, and you slowed just before finally entering, listening in.

“I was surprised to hear that she’s transferring, which is why I had never initially considered her for the internship. I was under the impression that she wouldn’t be here to do it.”

Your frown deepened at Tony Stark’s words, a sinking feeling in your gut, and although you wanted to hear more, something in you prevented you from staying still and doing so. You stepped into the lounge, greeting them all with a smile before resting your gaze on your father.

“I hate to cut the evening short, but I’m feeling a bit ill,” you lied.

Perhaps it wasn’t a complete lie. Peter’s harsh words didn’t exactly leave you feeling the best, but your father believed you anyway. The two of you said your goodbyes to the Starks, even Peter who had slithered his way into the foyer eventually. He’d sent you off with that stupid smirk on his face, and it took everything in you to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

The ride home was quiet. Your mind was too stuck on the snippet of conversation that you’d heard. You knew that it was about you, that much you had heard, but the talk about internships and transferring had you confused. Again, there was that sinking feeling in your gut, and it wouldn’t go away. You wanted to bring it up to your father, but he’d spent the entire next day in the office.

Your paranoia got the best of you though, and the next evening, you found yourself in his study, mind going a mile a minute as you poured over the papers you found. Shock coursed through you at every reveal, hands shaking and heart sinking in disbelief. That was how your father found you that night, perched in his desk chair, tearful eyes glaring up at him as he walked through the door. He sighed as soon as his eyes landed on the papers scattered all over his desk.

“Tell me this isn’t true,” you quietly pleaded.

You knew that it had to be, but you needed to hear him say it.

“You’ll be going to Princeton for your senior year. All of the paper work has been done and whatever needs to be transferred has been transferred,” he breathed, stepping into the room.

You shook your head in disbelief, tears spilling over. You were shocked to find yourself…shocked. You knew that your father didn’t approve of your new lifestyle and your plans for your future. You knew that it ran deep, and yet it had never occurred to you that he’d do something about it. You had foolishly thought that he’d let you make your own decisions.

This was the main reason you hated this world you were born into. The things that people could buy, could do, if they had enough money to do so scared you. It shouldn’t be allowed.

“…and the internship?”

You didn’t even care that you had revealed yourself to be eavesdropping last night. Your father stepped further into his study.

“You’ll be interning with Stark Industries immediately after graduation…”

You were out of his chair and stomping out of his office before he could even finish. He didn’t even call for you to come back, and why would he? His word was law. You both knew that this was going to happen, and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The night air was cold, and you wished you’d grabbed a thicker coat before stepping outside. After all, the only thing you had on underneath was a flimsy dress. You’d had plans to meet up with some old friends from high school tonight after your talk with your father, but you had never imagined that the talk would reveal this.

A lot of people were out in the city. It was a Friday night, after all. There was some light snow falling, but you could hardly even see it because the tears had finally spilled over. You couldn’t remember a time where you were so angry that you’d cried. You were grateful to be in New York of all places, right now, because a girl crying on the sidewalk was the most normal thing someone would probably see.

You crossed the street to a less crowded sidewalk, still trying to wrap your head around what your father had done, when a sleek black limo slowed beside you. You wouldn’t have thought anything of it had the window not rolled down to reveal none other than Peter.

“Are you drunk?” was the first thing he asked you.

Fed up with this night and having no patience for Peter Stark and all of his glory, you sneered at him.

“No,” you snapped.

You huffed when the limo rolled slowly along the street in time with your steps. Peter called to you, but you ignored him. What was he even doing out, right now? It was a Friday night. Shouldn’t he be at someone’s party participating in at least 2 illegal activities?

You sped up when you heard his door slam shut, but you weren’t quick enough. His firm hands grabbed you and turned you to face him, shaking you just a little as he ran his eyes over you, gaze lingering on your tearful one.

“Hey…”

“Go away, Peter,” you said, fighting to get out of his grip.

His hold tightened, and he stepped closer.

“It’s late. Why are you out here on the street like this? What happened?”

You snatched one arm out of his hold and shoved yourself away from him.

“Did you know?”

His brows furrowed, frowning slightly at your question. His cheeks were red from the cold, giving him a cherubic aura that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Stark. Did you know that my father was getting me transferred to Princeton behind my back? That I’m supposed to be interning with your father as soon as I graduate?”

You registered the shock on his face, and he slowly shook his head, thrown by what you’d told him.

“No,” he softly said.

You crossed your arms over your chest, more tears falling.

“If I had known…I would’ve told you, Y/N.”

“Would you?” you scoffed.

His face hardened at your insinuation, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, I would have. Look, I may hate this 180 that you’ve done with your life just as much as your father, but even I know that you’re going to do what you want anyway. You always have.”

He whispered the last part, and your gaze reluctantly met his. He pursed his lips, running his eyes over you as he reached for you.

“Where are you headed?” he wondered.

It hit you that you hadn’t really had a destination in mind. Your eyes widened, and you were sure that the panic and confusion was written all over your face. You shrugged, a few tears escaping.

“I…I don’t know,” you pathetically answered.

Peter softly sighed, pulling you towards the limo.

“Well, I was on my way to a party-.”

He cut himself off as you started to shake your head. You didn’t know where you wanted to go, but you knew that a party was not it. He pulled on your jacket, and you stumbled towards him in your heels.

“Hey,” he softly said when your eyes started to stray, and you looked at him. “I’ve got a couple of bottles of champagne in the limo, a full tank of gas, and a driver who’s getting paid by the minute. I’ll take you wherever you wanna go.”

You glanced away, thinking it over. You couldn’t stomach the thought of being near your father right now, and although Peter had shaken you last night, in the end, it was just him being his usual self. Your uneasiness from his words last night you wrote off to sensitivity and overthinking. You suddenly let out a humorless chuckle.

“You promise to get me really, really drunk?” you teased.

You were joking, but you honestly didn’t want to even remember your conversation with your father right now. That familiar smirk of his graced his lips as he threw an arm over your shoulder, guiding you towards the car.

“I promise to get you anything you want,” he purred.

The inside was warm, and you had almost forgotten how roomy limos could be. The L-shaped seating could easily fit 4 more people. True to Peter’s words, there was indeed two bottles of champagne on ice, and he reached for one as soon as the vehicle continued down the dark street.

You leaned your head against the window as he popped it open, getting you a glass. You felt defeated, and you were sure your face showed it as you took the offered drink from him.

“So what are you gonna do?”

You shook your head at Peter’s question.

“What can I do, Peter?” you quietly wondered with a shrug. “I mean… If my father is willing to go this far to get me where he wants me to be…? What’s stopping him from doing so again and again and again?”

Peter leaned back in his seat, eyeing you as you sipped on the bubbly alcohol.

“I’ll never be free of him,” you said, more to yourself than Peter. “God, he really is going to get everything he wants. Looks like I’ll be seeing you in 3 years at our engagement party, after all.”

Peter slid along the seat to get closer to you, rolling his eyes.

“Come on,” he dragged out. “Would marrying me really be so bad?”

You almost choked on your drink, and you incredulously eyed him.

“We’ve been over this before, and the answer is yes. That’s if we can even get you to walk down the aisle.”

Peter sighed, sitting his drink down.

“I would marry you,” he argued, looking at you.

“Come on, Peter. You’re just saying that!”

You took another sip, thankful for the liquid courage.

“It’s all a game to you. It always has been. The minute you finally get with me, it’ll be over. Hell…,” you said, thinking. “…maybe I should sleep with you so you’ll finally leave me alone.”

Peter laughed, resting his arm behind you on the back of the seat.

“If I had you, I’d never leave you alone,” he replied, voice soft.

“Yeah,” you barked a laugh. “Okay…”

“I’m serious,” he said, tone matching his words, and you fought to hold his intense gaze. “When are we finally going to get together?”

You glanced away.

“You’ve asked me this probably a hundred times, and the answer is always the same,” you murmured.

“When are we finally going to stop playing this game?”

Your eyes met his again, brows furrowed.

“I wasn’t aware that we were playing a game-.”

“I want you,” he whispered so quietly that you weren’t sure you heard him right. “You know that, Y/N. I’ve always wanted you.”

There was a frown on his face, and you swallowed.

“You want everyone,” you quietly replied, suddenly feeling very odd.

You scooted away from him just a tad, but he followed.

“When I have you, Y/N, I won’t treat you like those other girls,” he told you.

“Ha! How reassuring,” you sarcastically replied.

His hand rested on your arm, and you squirmed, head feeling a bit light.

“I’m serious,” he murmured, hand trailing upwards to brush along your shoulder before resting on your neck. “You’re my best girl…”

You blinked at him with a frown, and he tilted his head at you, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Why would I treat my best girl like the rest?”

You shook your head, moving away from him some more.

“Maybe…maybe I should just go home after all. I’m not feeling so good, right now,” you told him, alarmed at how slurred your words were.

You watched as Peter reached to take another sip of his drink.

“Yeah,” he calmly said, taking your drink from your trembling fingers and setting it aside. “That would probably be the Rohypnol.”

You slowly blinked at him, trying to clear the fuzz from your head as you processed his words. Did he just say…Rohypnol? As in…?

“Roofie is the common term, also known as the date-rape drug.”

Your mouth felt dry, and you felt like you weren’t sliding away from him fast enough.

“Peter, this…this is a joke, right? You’re kidding…?”

He snorted, and even without his confirmation, you knew that he wasn’t kidding. Your head had been spinning for minutes now.

“Come on, Y/N. When have you ever known me to be a huge comedian?”

You fell against the door as you tried the handle, but it was locked, and that was when you really started to panic.

“Y/N.”

You ignored Peter as he called your name, opting instead for hitting against the partition. You heard Peter heave a sigh from behind you before his arm slipped around your waist, pulling you back. Your movements were sluggish and futile, but you fought against him anyway. He pulled you down onto his lap as he leaned back into the seat.

“Peter…”

Your words died in your throat as his hands clasped around the back of your neck, pulling you down until his lips met yours. The kiss was hungry, Peter a man starved as he moaned into your mouth. He was panting when he pulled away, chest heaving before he kissed you again.

Your hands were pressed against his chest, trying in vain to push yourself away from him. You gasped against his lips, heart stuttering when he flipped you, your frame now between his and the seat. He settled against you easily, fitting perfectly in between your legs as his fingers danced over you.

The buttons of your coat flew as he yanked it open, and you shivered. Peter paid no mind, running his hands over your exposed skin before sliding them under your dress. You felt like you were barely hanging onto consciousness, not even realizing when Peter had started to drag your underwear down your legs until they were already to your ankles.

You feebly kicked against him, but he simply grabbed your legs, spreading them to settle in between them once more. You could feel him hot and hard through his pants, and more tears kissed your eyes. How on earth had you missed this? You cursed yourself for not taking his behavior more seriously. For not listening to yourself last night.

Confident that you could not fight him off, one of his hands worked between your legs while the other worked to release himself. He was right to be confident, because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get your arms to work right. You felt like you were underwater, weighed down by sand.

“Peter,” you quietly pleaded again, and he shushed you.

You squirmed beneath him as he pushed his fingers in and out of you, hating how easy it was because of how wet you were. He pressed his mouth against yours, forcing his tongue past your lips, and you trembled as you felt him line himself up with your entrance.

A high-pitched yelp left you as he filled you with one thrust. The moan that climbed out of his throat was low and long, and he cursed as you clenched around him. Your hand pressed against the back of the seat as he pulled back before snapping his hips into you again.

“You feel so good,” he groaned into your mouth.

One arm locked around your waist as he pulled you both into a sitting position, his throbbing cock still inside of you as he held you onto his lap. You pushed against him, but your arms buckled when he lifted his hips up into you.

You whimpered, falling against him, and both of his hands fell to grip your waist, tightly holding you as he fucked you. Your body couldn’t support itself, and you sagged against him, forehead pressing against his as your eyelashes fluttered. Your jacket was barely hanging onto you, and with one hand, he pulled it all the way off. He gripped the bottom of your sequined dress before bunching it around your hips.

You tried to push yourself up, push yourself off of him, but not only was his hold firm, your body was too under the influence of the drug he’d given you. You pathetically whimpered as you fell against him again, a sob caught in your chest. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your neck, the strap of your dress falling, and you shuddered.

He pulled you into another kiss, the taste of your salty tears seeping into your mouth. Your head was light, mind spinning with the pleasure being forced onto you. You pressed your hand against the seat, attempting to push yourself away again when Peter spun you both, your back connecting with the seat as he laid you down, his clothed hips slapping against yours. He moaned into your mouth as you fluttered around him, and with a start, you realized that despite your unwillingness, an orgasm was creeping up on you.

Both of his hands rested on your cheeks as he kissed you again and again. His dark hair was falling into his forehead, sweat coating the strands, and your skin fared no better. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt your stomach clenching, shamed and disgust coursing through you.

“Look at me,” Peter quietly demanded.

You shook your head but yelped when one of his hands reached to pinch your nipple through your dress. You peeled your eyes open, tears blurring your vision, but your gaze met his all the same.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured just as you clenched around him with a choked moan.

Your climax triggered his own, and he pushed into you a few more times before falling against you with a groan. You were both sweating and panting, and you felt the flames of sleep licking at the corners of your vision.

There was so much that you wanted to say to Peter, to scream at him, but you couldn’t form the words. You could only lay there as he kissed you again before pulling out of you, leaning back against the seat as he fixed himself. Sleep was just in your grasp, but you were scared to close your eyes. Scared of the man you thought you knew.

He spread his arm over the back of the seat, the other pulling your dress down, that annoying playful smirk dancing along his lips.

“I think a winter wedding would look absolutely beautiful.”

tags: @bamposworld @mcudarklibrary @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @buckybarnesplumwhore @harryspet @coconutqueen21 @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @hurricanerin

#dark peter parker #Dark!Peter #dark fic #dark!peter x reader #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker

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bahamutmage · 2 years ago

Text

ffxivwrite2022: cross

AO3 link

X’rhun handed over the soulstone, watching his fellow miqo’te as he took the crystal from him. The other was dressed in mage robes and a tome hanging off his hip. There was a Summoner horn atop his head, his auburn bangs pinned underneath it covering one of his eyes.

“That was quite the ordeal, I don’t think I caught your name—”

“Oh, right,” the other miqo’te shook his head as he slid the crystal into a pocket in his robes, “my name is Rua’a Yuuki.”

“That’s funny,” X’rhun answered as the memory came back to him, “I had a good friend by that name, but she certainly wasn’t a miqo—”

“You knew my mom?” Rua’a’s face had considerably brightened as he spoke up.

“...Fox?”

The light retreated from Rua’a’s face just as quick, ears falling worriedly against his head.

“How do you know that name?”

That seemed like an impossible question to answer, at least in the middle of a busy bar. He thought of the Ala Mhigan he knew, the young worried woman who had found an orphaned miqo’te in the Twelveswood. He had found out a while ago that she, like so many others, had perished in the Calamity, but never learned of her son’s fate. If he was going by a different alias that must have been why.

“I helped Rua raise you,” X’rhun answered, trying to keep the overwhelming joy out of his voice as it welled up inside him.

“I don’t remember you at all,” Rua’a’s voice was accusatory in answer, an angry tail snapping behind him to add an exclamation to his point.

“I would wager you don’t, you were too young when I left to assist in the revolution and resistance that followed.”

Rua’a still seemed on edge, there was no reason to trust the older miqo’te in front of him and X’rhun couldn’t exactly blame him for that. The small toddler he remembered, full of life but also a terrible curse.

“I know why you hide your other eye—”

“Like hell you do!”

X’rhun reached out to stop the anger from spilling over in such a public place. The magic held the curse in check just fine, he could tell that from the ambient aether in the room; but the less attention drawn to the pair the better.

“They don’t match,” X’rhun continued, and Rua’a flinched away like a nerve was struck.

“One blue and fine as can be, but the one hidden away is as red as a demon’s.”

“Shut up!” Rua’a hissed.

“I can help you.”

“I don’t need help.”

X’rhun nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Rua had told her son about the curse that X’rhun had locked away. The new soulstone in Rua’a’s pocket however would be nothing more than a fancy paperweight in his current state.

“I apologize, I don’t mean to overstep.”

“You’re far past that!”

It was all bluster now, Rua’a’s voice still raised, but any anger behind his words had quickly fizzled.

“Do you know how Red Magic works?” X’rhun asked, in an attempt to both defuse the situation and bring it to the proper outcome.

“What?”

“Do you know how Red Magic works?”

“N-no,” Rua’a shook his head a little stunned by the lack of fight being put up. His shoulders relaxed and his ears bounced to a more normal state, “we don’t have many Red Mages here in Eorzea.”

“It works by keeping both White and Black Magic inside of us in balance, building on it until they explode in bursts of Red Magic. Then it starts over. It’s a dance really.”

All the anger finally left Rua’a, his head slumping forward in defeat. He pulled the soulstone from his pocket to stare down at it again. “I’ve failed so many times to use certain aspected aether, especially those tuned to Umbral.”

“I don’t have the answers, but let me help you. Your eye is not natural — but we’re both accomplished mages already. If you’re willing I would be honored to help you find the answers to why you struggle with Black Magic.”

Rua’a slowly nodded, and then he placed the crystal back into his pocket for safe keeping.

“Alright.”

“Thank you, Rua’a.”

It was a start.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2022 #x'rhun tia #rua'a #jess writes #miqo'te #miqote

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sequinsmile-x · 3 years ago

Text

Exhaustion

Part of the Full House series

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy and non-graphic descriptions of a traumatic birth

Read on A03 or under the cut

Let me know what you think!

There was something wrong with her. That was the only thought that was circling around her brain on repeat. Emily was exhausted. Bone deep exhaustion that she had never experienced before, not during all her years working at the BAU, or those early days with Ian Doyle when she thought she would be caught out any second. Even when she’d had Ivy, those endless early days of motherhood with her first ever baby, she hadn’t felt like this.

Aaon kept telling her it was normal, that a new baby combined with just how traumatic Audrey’s birth had been would make her recovery drawn out. That on top of that Ivy, who had always typically been a Daddy’s Girl, was suddenly obsessed with Emily, the jealousy of having a new sibling who took so much of her mother’s attention making her cling to her. Tears and tantrums ran high whenever Emily was out of her sight, all but glued to her side at every waking hour.

She knew he was right. She had been there too when the doctor explained that it would take her weeks, potentially months, to completely recover from the birth. It had only been three weeks, still so recent that she sometimes caught Aaron looking at her like she might disappear, like he might lose her.

Emily knows he almost did.

Knowing all of that didn’t help. It didn’t stop the feeling of shame that would crawl up her spine at the frustration she would feel at never having a second alone, despite her own hesitance to ever let the girls or Jack out of her sight. She knew her own anxieties were born out of having her baby ripped off her chest only seconds after she had been placed there, things getting hazier by the second.

She felt over touched. Every nerve on edge whenever tiny hands reached out for her skin. And she was so angry at herself for it.

There was something wrong with her,

Aaron had been hesitant to go back to work, his understanding of how she felt despite her never putting it into words as clear as ever. Emily had encouraged him, knowing that they would have to go back to normal as soon as they could. When he immediately got sent away on a case, one he was now finally on the way back home from a week later, she almost regretted it.

It had been a long week. Audrey had barely been sleeping and was cluster feeding throughout the night, and Ivy wanted to be with her at every possible second. Jack was a saint, helping Emily where he could in distracting Ivy and playing with his sister. He’d even brought Emily a cup of tea at one point a couple days ago when she must have looked particularly drained. He hadn’t done it since, spooked by the way she had almost immediately burst into tears despite her assurances that it was a lovely thing to do.

Jessica had popped round the day before, sympathy on her face and a casserole in hand. Emily knew that Aaron had asked her to check in, and she was grateful for it. Jack was with Jessica today, the boy excited to spend an evening with his aunt. She had offered to take Ivy too, but the way the little girl had gripped Emily’s shirt at the suggestion had made her decline, knowing ultimately it would be worse for everyone if she had accepted.

“Mama.”

Emily turns to look at Ivy. The toddler was sitting next to her on the couch as Audrey slept in the bouncer chair just to the left of them. It was the only place she could get the baby to drift off for any period of time during the day.

“Yes, sweetheart?” She smiles at her daughter, discreetly checking the clock on the wall behind her. Aaron would be home soon, and she was almost more excited to have someone, anyone, else here with the girls than she was to see him.

“Snowman?”

Emily has to stop herself from sighing. Frozen was Ivy’s favourite movie and she had already lost track of how many times she had watched it in the last week.

“Are you sure? We could watch something else.” Emily tries to reason, her usual rule of limiting screen time very much out of the window. She knows it was fruitless when Ivy furrows her brow at her in a way Aaron always insisted was all her.

Ivy shakes her head, her dark brown and unruly curls moving as she did. “Snowman.”

“Ok. Snowman.” She grabs the remote and turns on the tv, not even remembering the last time they had a different DVD in the player.

They get part way through, Emily plotting the death of Olaf in her head as she watches, before Audrey starts to gristle. Emily reaches down to get her, wincing at the sudden movement, still healing from giving birth, as she unbuckles her and pulls her into her arms.

“You’re ok, baby.” She whispers, kissing the top of Audreys head, her dark hair matching her sisters. The newborn almost immediately starts rooting at Emily’s chest and she adjusts her shirt so she can start to feed her.

As soon as Audrey is in her arms Ivy is up against her, standing on the couch as she tries to get as close to Emily as possible.

“Ivy, Mommy just needs a bit of room ok?” She smiles at her eldest daughter, trying to maintain the gentle approach she had always taken with her. “I can cuddle you after I’ve fed her.”

“No.” Ivy says, leaning into her side. “My Mama.”

She has to stop herself from flinching as Ivy’s little hand tangles in her hair.

There was something wrong with her. _______________________

He doesn’t think he has ever been so excited to get home. He had spoken to Emily as often as possible, quick phone calls and texts exchanged to check in on his family. The moment Penelope had told him that they had a case on his first day back after Audrey’s birth his heart had dropped to his stomach.

Emily was more than capable of looking after the kids alone, he knew that, but he was worried about her. He had been worried about her since the second he was left alone in a room holding his minutes old little girl as his wife was rushed away, an emergency taking over what should have been a joyous moment. He could tell something was off, that some part of her was doubting her abilities, but she wouldn’t talk about it, smiling wryly at him whenever he told her how fantastic a mother she was.

As Aaron walks into the living room he sees his wife sitting on the couch. Their three week old in her arms as she feeds her, their 3 year old standing on the couch cushion pressed up against Emily’s side, her tiny hand wrapped in her mother’s hair as she watches her baby sister eat.

Frozen, Ivy’s favourite movie, is playing on the TV, and Aaron winces as the song about summer floats around the room, making him briefly wonder to himself if the murder of a animated snowman would be considered justifable homicide, given that their toddler demanded they watch it on repeat.

Then Emily looks up and catches his eye, exhaustion rolling off of her in waves, and he pushes any other thoughts to the back of his head.

“Hi sweetheart.”

Her response is a trembling smile, and before she can speak Ivy turns, a wide smile on her face as she looks at him.

“Daddy!”

She doesn’t run to him like she would have only weeks ago, instead staying next to Emily. He scoops her up anyway, kissing the side of his daughter's head repeatedly as she giggles.

“Daddy, stop.”

He does, laughing as he leans down to kiss the top of Emily’s head. He frowns as she flinches, readjusting Audrey as she finishes eating.

“How are my girls?” He asks, settling Ivy on his hip. “I missed you.”

“Missed, Daddy.” Ivy says, eyes focused back on the tv.

‘Oh, Frozen. Mommy’s favourite.” Aaron says, any laugh from his own joke dying in his throat when he sees the very real glare Emily throws his way as she stands with Audrey against her chest, gently rubbing the little girl's back to burp her.

“I’m going to go change her.” She says, attempting to throw him a smile before she heads upstairs.

“Mommy seems grumpy.” Aaron says turning to Ivy, bouncing the little girl slightly to make her laugh, the concern on her own face too much for him to bear.

“Drey cry lots.” Ivy explains, her expression serious.

Aaron nods and kisses his daughter's forehead, settling her back down on the couch. “You stay here ok? I’ll be back in a minute.”

He heads upstairs, following the sound of his wife’s gentle words to their baby to their bedroom.

“Em?”

She turns to look at him briefly, tears shining in her eyes that set him on edge immediately, before she looks back at Audrey in her arms, the baby settling down. Emily flinches when he touches her shoulder, pulling herself away from him and the movement makes Audrey cry again, any progress Emily had made her to calm down gone in a second.

“Damn it.”

“Sweetheart?”

“I’m ok.” She says, sounding anything but. “I just need five minutes where someone isn’t touching me.” Emily says, desperation laced through her voice. He stops himself from walking towards her, from pulling her into his arms and providing the comfort he is itching to give her. “I’m either feeding Audrey, or Ivy is clinging to me like she’ll never see me again. I love them more than I can possibly explain but...” A sob escapes her and she wipes her cheeks. “I am so tired, Aaron. I just need five minutes.”

For a second Aaron isn’t sure what to do. His fingers twitch at his sides, his natural instinct to reach out for her almost overwhelming. Emily and Audrey both crying the only sound in the room.

“Pass her over.” He says eventually, hands reaching out towards her.

“Aaron-”

He smiles at her in an attempt to reassure her. “Come on, sweetheart. You need a break.”

“I can look after my own children.” She says, accusation in her voice.

“I know you can, love.” He steps towards her, careful not to reach out for her like he so desperately wanted to. “But you need some time to yourself, you need to get some rest.”

She nods, albeit reluctantly, passing the baby over as she does, kissing the top of her head as she lets go.

“You only just got home.” She says, wiping tears from her face now that her hands were free. “I didn’t even say hi.”

Aaron holds Audrey to his chest, smiling at his wife. “That’s ok. We’ll be downstairs.” He walks out the room, gently closing the door behind him. He looks at his youngest curled up on his chest and kisses the side of her head. “Let's go see what your sister is up to.” _______________________

When Ivy suggests putting Frozen back on almost as soon as it is finished he manages to distract her. He asks her what they could do instead with only a limited amount of time left before bedtime. Her eyes light up immediately, running off to the room that used to be their den but was now a playroom. The sound of her dragging her dress up box, almost entirely stocked by Penelope, into the living room wakes up Audrey. He picks her up from her bouncer before she can cry loudly enough to disturb Emily, hoping he could give her as much time as possible.

Ivy already has her Elsa wig on, and Aaron already knows where this is going when she pulls out the Anna wig.

“Daddy Anna.”

“I think my head is a bit big.”

Ivy, not put off by her father’s logic, places the wig on top of his head anyway before grabbing some reindeer antlers he had never seen before from the box. She goes to place them on Audrey’s head. He stops her, unable to suppress a smile when she frowns. Emily’s frown.

“Sweetie, no. Audrey can’t be Sven.”

“Drey play.”

“She’s too little.” He says, putting the antlers back down. “But we can play. Just you and me.”

She has Emily’s smile too. _________________

Emily wakes up, rubbing her eyes as she looks at the clock on the nightstand, seeing she’d had about an hour's sleep. That, combined with the time to herself and the quick shower she had managed to fit in had calmed her nerves somewhat. Nowhere near all the way repaired, but enough to settle her back down.

As she sits up in bed she feels an all too familiar ache in her breasts, a sign that Audrey would need feeding again soon, and she runs her hands over her face before she gets up in search of her family.

She can hear laughter floating up the stairs, her husbands mixed in with Ivy’s, her precious giggle warming Emily’s heart as much as it did the very first time she heard it. She pads down the stairs quietly, the socks she had stolen from Aaron dulling the sound of her footsteps. Love blooms in her chest, spreading through her body at the sight that greets her.

Aaron is sitting with a childs wig on his head, one she knows Penelope bought Ivy when she offhandedly mentioned one day how much her daughter loved Frozen. It looks absurd. Tiny in comparison to his size. His sleeves are rolled up and his tie is off, the top couple of buttons of his shirt undone and she can see his jacket folded over the armchair.

She observes him for a moment as he sits patiently listening to Ivy mostly babble to herself, interest in whatever she was saying all over his face. He had Audrey against his chest, the baby looking impossibly tiny up against him, only one hand securing her to him. He was a little thicker now than he was when they first got together, something Derek gently teased him for and called his ‘dad bod’.

Emily loved it and told him frequently. She loved that his embrace engulfed her. That it made her feel safe and secure whenever she was in his arms. She knows he does the same for their children. Has watched as he has soothed nightmares and scraped knees with the calming presence only their family are truly privy to.

She smiles as Ivy passes him a stuffed animal, a dog that she was obsessed with, that had reindeer antlers secured to its head. It’s almost bigger than Audrey, and as Emily watches him with a baby and a stuffed dog in his arms, their toddler excitedly talking at him, she doesn’t think she has ever loved him more. _______________________

They settle Ivy into her bed, both knowing she will likely make it into theirs at some point in the night, and eat dinner together.

Aaron has a quick shower as Emily feeds and rocks Audrey to sleep. She had just laid her into the bassinet on her side of the bed when the door to their ensuite opened, her husband making his way out already dressed in his pajamas. Emily yawns as she climbs into bed, him quickly following. He keeps his distance from her, space between them that they don’t usually allow and she smiles tiredly at him, her words from earlier clearly still on his mind.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” He asks, his concern for her clear.

“I’m ok, I promise.” She reaches out for his hand, linking their fingers between them. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

He squeezes her hand. “Em, you have nothing to apologise for.”

“I just…” She trails off, shaking her head at herself as tears fill her eyes. “I just don’t want you to think I don’t love them. That I don’t want this.”

“Baby, of course I don’t think that.” He says, his other hand cupping her cheek, thumbing away the tears that have escaped. “I know you love them. I’ve never doubted that for a single second.”

“I’m just so tired, Aaron.”

He finally pulls her into his arms, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding when she relaxes into his embrace, her face tucked into his neck.

“You’re being hard on yourself, my love.” He kisses the side of her head. “You had a baby 3 weeks ago. You almost died having her, remember?”

“I know.” She says, sniffing. “I know that. I was there.”

“Then give yourself a break.” He pulls back to tuck some hair behind her ear. He wants to say so much more, to assure her how good a mother she is, how much all of their kids love her, but he knows now isn’t the time. Knows her well enough to know she will assume he is simply just saying it. “We should get some sleep.” He kisses her softly. “She’ll be awake soon enough demanding your attention.” He says, tilting his head towards the bassinet.

They settle down, her facing the bassinet with her back to him. Aaron wraps his arm around her, pulling her closer so her back is pressed against his chest.

“You make a good Anna.” She quips as the image of him earlier with Ivy making her smile and it makes him laugh.

“Ivy gets more and more like you every day.” He says, pressing his lips to her temple. “I just hope she uses her attitude to run a company or something, and not a gang in prison.”

Emily reaches behind her to smack his shoulder in mock offence. “That’s rude.” She sniffs. “She’d run an excellent gang.”

She can feel herself falling asleep, the ever present exhaustion taking over.

“Em?”

She hums her response, turning her head just enough for his lips to land on her cheek.

“If you could kill Olaf how would you do it?”

She laughs. “I love you so much.”

The last thing she hears before she drifts off is him how much he loves her, how much he loves their family. _______________________

When she wakes the bed is empty, as is the bassinet and she immediately panics, fear lancing through her as she sits up quickly. She shakes off the lightheadedness caused by her sudden movement and takes a deep breath, logic taking over as she calms herself.

Emily pulls a robe on and walks downstairs, the light from the living room illuminating the hallway. She smiles when she sees Aaron sitting and holding Audrey in the crook of his arm, a bottle she had pumped earlier in the day in his hand as he fed her.

“Did I not get an invite to this party?” She asks quietly, not wanting to wake up Ivy upstairs.

Aaron turns to her and grins before looking back down at the baby. “Is Mommy allowed to join us?”

Audrey makes a small noise that makes them laugh and Emily walks over to join them on the couch.

“You could have woken me up.” She says, leaning forward to stroke a finger over Audrey’s dark hair.

“I know.” He leans forward to kiss her head. “You needed the sleep.” She opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by a door opening upstairs, and the sound of little feet down the hallway and stairs.

Emily groans slightly. “It’s like she has a radar for where I am.”

Aaron only has time to laugh in reply for Ivy is downstairs, climbing onto the couch with them and into Emily’s lap.

“What are you doing up, little miss?” Emily says, tapping the toddler on the nose, making her giggle. “You should be sleeping.”

“Snowman?”

Emily shakes her head. “No, Ivy. It’s too late to watch it now.” She pauses, and bites her lip as she suppresses a smirk. “Daddy said he’d watch it with you tomorrow though.”

The look Aaron throws at her over their daughter's head makes her laugh, and for the first time in over a week, probably since Audrey was born if she was honest with herself, she knows everything is going to be just fine.

#hotchniss #hotchniss fan fic #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #Girl Dad Aaron #family fluff #CM Fanfic #pregnancy #birth #momily #Aaron being a great husband #i spent my day writing this #and watching Silent Witness with my cat #No regrets

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flightlessangelwings · 4 years ago

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Grant a Name to a Buried and a Burning Flame ~ Chapter 2

Hades!Din Djarin x Persephone!Reader (gender neutral, no y/n)

Chapter 2/3 (chapter 1 linked in my masterlist)

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Hades/Persephone retelling, historical setting, hints of soulmate AU, fluff, mutual pining

Moodboard made by me

Over the next week, you didn’t leave your little room, too angry and hurt to face the world. Ironic that you ran away from your kingdom and your castle that felt like a prison to you only to find yourself in a different kind of prison. With a sigh, you gazed out the window and watched as people milled around in the nearby streets. You thought about how happy they looked, and it made you reflect more than you wanted to admit.

Every morning, there was a knock at your door, and every morning you ignored it. You knew who it was, and you weren’t ready to face him just yet. That pull still remained, however, and you felt it harder just before he knocked at your door. And it stayed after he gave up, which compelled you to get up and open the door. When you did, you found a single flower pinned to the outside of the door. No note or anything, just the flower.

You gently yanked it off and smelled it. The fragrance felt like a welcome warmth in the coldness of your current situation, and even though you were still angry for what he did, you found that you couldn’t bring yourself to hate your new husband. Even in your head, it sounded weird: your husband. For the first time since you locked yourself in your room, a faint smile graced your face.

The cycle repeated daily, with a knock on your door that you ignored and a single flower left behind as a gift. Eventually, you had enough flowers piled on your dresser that you were able to arrange them in a beautiful little bouquet. The sight of it lifted your spirits, and you suddenly had a new resolve to actually do something with your time now that you were in this new kingdom.

You dressed yourself in a fresh robe that was left for you and draped a cloak over your shoulders. The robe was a beautiful color, though more muted than what you normally wore, and it complimented you perfectly. Before you stepped out, you glanced over at the bouquet of flowers and decided to pick one up and tucked it behind your ear. It was the first one that was left for you, and it was by far your favorite.

As you walked the streets of the kingdom, you found that it was actually a pleasant place. The dark and dull skyline that you could see from your castle completely contradicted how full of life this place was. People milled along as they went about their business, and the market was more lively than you would have guessed. It was colder than you were used to, and the sun did not shine brightly in the sky, but overall it was not a horrible place to be. It felt homey and comfortable, which surprised you.

You greeted vendors who had no idea who you were with a smile, and you just took the opportunity to take in your surroundings. Brightly colored fruits stood out from the dark wood of the carts, and they looked too delicious. Beautiful woven robes and dresses lined another stall in deep colors that you never would have appreciated had you not seem them up close. And the streets were cleaner than you would have imagined them to be.

The thought popped in your head that you completely misjudged this place as you stared at the skyline from afar. You wondered if you misjudged its ruler as well…

A shout from the far end of the street knocked you out of your thoughts, and you immediately rushed over to see what the commotion was about. When you approached, you saw that a man towered over a young woman. She obviously looked uncomfortable with the way he grabbed her, but no one else bothered to do anything about it. Not you, though, you were not going to stand for it.

“Excuse me,” you approached with a fire in your eyes from under the hood you wore, “Are you too blind to see that this lady does not want you in her space?”

The man scoffed and turned his attention to you, “Hasn’t anyone ever told you to mind your own business?”

You stood tall, you weren’t going to let this scum of a man intimidate you, “But it is my business,” you quipped back in a pointed tone, “Or have you not heard about the new ruler here?” Normally, you hated to use your rank, but you did not like the way this man threatened others and it was the fastest way you could think to diffuse the situation. You stared him down with a fiery gaze that you hoped would be intimidating enough.

It was, and it stopped him in his tracks as he looked into your face. Realization dawned on him and he immediately backed off, “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled as he retreated.

With a satisfied smirk, you turned to the young woman, “Are you alright?”

She nodded, “Yes… thank you…” her voice was meek and she didn’t dare look you in the eyes as she expressed her gratitude.

No one noticed, but a hooded figure watched the entire confrontation from the shadows. From under his hood, Din couldn’t help but smirk as he watched you. Your beauty and your strength were unmatched, and Din had never felt more drawn to you than in that moment. He ducked away, however, before he felt the pull toward you strengthen and you were left alone again.

The rest of the day was uneventful and you made it back to the palace without any other incidents. When you reached your room, you found another flower on your door, and you couldn’t help the grin that lit up your face as you pulled it from the door. You thought you felt eyes on you, but when you looked over your shoulder, all you could see were shadows. With a shrug, you went into your room, unaware that Din watched you from the darkness with his own grin.

Somehow, the sun felt brighter when you woke up the next morning, and you decided to head out for the day again. As you opened the door, you came to expect a flower there, and you were not disappointed. You plucked it and tucked it behind your ear as you headed out. Strangely, you didn’t feel the familiar pull that you became accustomed to, and you wondered where the hooded man was.

You let yourself wander wherever your heart led you and you ended up in front of an orphanage. There was no shortage of orphaned children even in your kingdom, so it was a sight you were familiar with, but you wondered why of all places, you brought yourself here. With a deep breath, you stepped inside, but nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greeted you.

In the middle of the room, surrounded by children was a familiar hooded figure. He didn’t see you enter right away; he was too preoccupied with caring for the children around him. For such an intimidating man, he was incredibly soft and gentle with the little ones, and even though you couldn’t see his face, you could tell how much they meant to him. You leaned against the doorway and just watched him for a time, and a new feeling swelled in your chest.

He held a toddler in his arms, and the child looked over at you and cooed when he saw you. That was when Din finally looked up and noticed you. As the child in his lap giggled at you, he tilted his head to the side and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Is this how the rough and tough ruler of the Underworld spends his days?” you joked as you moved closer.

Din replied with a short laugh, “The foundlings are the future. We must look after them.”

You nodded in agreement, at a complete loss for words. You never expected a man with his reputation and who appeared so rough around the edges to be so caring. He seemed so genuine around the children too. The toddler in his lap reached out for you, and you carefully lifted him up into your arms.

“He’s new here,” Din explained as he watched you hold the child and he was never more grateful to have his face hidden, “I found him held captive by mercenaries on the outskirts.”

“Does he have a name?” you asked, unsure of what to say to that. You had so many questions for him, but you felt like that was a conversation for another time when you weren’t surrounded by children.

He shook his head.

You turned to inspect the child’s face. He had big brown eyes that seemed to look into your soul. When he smiled, you could see his little teeth. You don’t know why, but a name popped into your head, “How about... Grogu?”

The child cooed at your suggestion, and Din couldn’t help but laugh fondly, “Grogu?” he echoed you and the baby turned to him and babbled happily.

Both of you laughed softly as you both decided that the name stuck. You spent the rest of the day in the orphanage with him and the children, and somehow everything just felt right. The sun had long set when you two finally left, and you let him escort you back to the palace. Neither of you spoke, but you both felt comforted by the other’s presence. You even found that you stayed closer to him than you thought you would, and the feeling when his side brushed against yours sent bolts of electricity through you.

It wasn’t until you reached the door to your bedroom that you both stopped and turned to face each other. Even from under the hood, you could feel his gaze on you, and he slowly and carefully reached out and ghosted his hand over the flower tucked behind your ear.

You felt your skin burn at his barely-there touch, “Thank you for these,” your voice was just above a whisper, but you knew he heard you.

“It suits you,” was all he said in response, “Goodnight Persephone,” he was about to turn away, but your voice stopped him in his tracks.

You told him a name, your name, your real name, and you felt him tense in front of you, “Can…” you took a deep breath, “Can you use my real name?” when he didn’t say anything, you felt the need to clarify more, “I don’t have anything against the name. It just doesn’t feel like mine, you know?”

If you only knew how much he related to that. Din gave you a single nod and said your name in a hushed tone that made your heart skip a beat before he disappeared down the hall. You looked forward to the daily gift of a flower on your door the next morning.

Over time, you spent more and more time with Din, and you felt more and more comfortable around him. He wasn’t much of a talker, but you learned that he communicated in other ways, and you quickly learned what his head tilts and subtle body language meant. And he always continued the tradition of leaving a flower at your door every morning, and you wore it behind your ear for the day.

Most days were spent at the orphanage with Din, and you noticed how much he seemed to relax around the children. It made your heart melt when you saw this hooded, armored man be so soft with the little ones. One day while you walked back, you asked him about his life before ruling, and he told you stories of his time as a mercenary. And for every story he told you, you offered one in return, though you felt yours were far less thrilling than his.

A new routine that started with the two of you was that he would walk you to your room every night. It started the day you spent at the orphanage for the first time, and it became an unspoken thing ever since. It felt comfortable at first, but the more the nights went on, the more you found that you didn’t want to bid him farewell for the evening.

And Din felt the same way about you. He longed to reach out and caress you; the pull he felt never felt stronger than when he was about to leave you for the night.

The two of you lingered in front of your door, neither of you wanted to move. In order to keep him in front of you, you asked a question that had been on your mind since you first met, “How did you find me in the forest that day?”

He put a hand on his hip and tilted his head to the side slightly, a sign that meant he was amused, “I’ve felt a pull for some time and I followed it,” he answered plainly. He paused for a moment before he asked a question of his own, “Why did you run away?”

You sighed, you figured the question would come at some point. But, you wanted to be honest with him, “I didn’t feel right there, you know? Like it was never truly my home. I never wanted to rule, it was just something that was expected of me,” you let out a deep breath as you thought of your home for the first time in a while, “I’ve felt this pull too, so I decided it was time I followed it.”

“I never wanted this either,” he watched as you looked at him with wide eyes, “I was a mercenary most of my life. It was tough, but I was free to travel whenever I wanted,” he paused and gestured to the black sword on his belt, “I won this sword and the kingdom came along with it.”

Silence fell between the two of you as neither knew what to say next. You never would have guessed that this man had so much in common with you, or that your stories were so similar. You fiddled with your fingers as you looked anywhere but his hood. There was another question on your mind, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to ask it out loud.

He seemed to read your thoughts, and after a heavy sigh, he broke the silence, “Din.”

Your eyes met the darkness of his hood, “What?’

“My name,” he spoke in a soft voice as he carefully reached out to you, “It’s Din Djarin,” he rested his hand on your cheek as he spoke, but didn’t let himself relax until you gave him the silent permission to do so.

You exhaled deeply as you leaned into his touch. A comfortable silence fell over you again, and this time you were the one to break it, “Din…Can I stay with you tonight? If that’s ok?”

Din’s grip on your face tightened slightly as he nodded. His hand dropped and trailed down your arm before he took your hand in his and led you down the hallway to his room. It was just as plain as the rest of the little palace, and it felt like it was more for utility than anything else. And yet at the same time, it felt homey. Maybe that was because of his presence.

You stood in the middle of the room and bit your lip as he watched you. When your eyes fell back to his figure, you suddenly felt the urge to reach out for him. Without a word, you lifted your hands and gently caressed his face through the hood much like he did yours earlier. You heard him sigh as he leaned into your touch. The two of you stayed like that until Din covered your hands with his own and slowly started to push his hood back.

“Din…”

“It’s alright,” he whispered. In your conversations, he has spoken about the creed he took as a youngster and explained about his covered face. Din had told you that he could only remove his covering in front of his own clan, but you chose not to press it further. You were understanding and never once questioned it, and that only made him fall for you more.

Guided by his hands, you pushed his hood back so that he only had the mask on the lower half of his face. The first thing you noticed was his brown eyes, which held a softness that made your heart skip a beat. His brown hair was messy from the hood, but it looked so soft and you couldn’t resist the urge to run your hand through it once.

Then, you slowly reached for the mask, and you paused when you had a grip on it before you took it off. His eyes told you all you needed to know and you took off the last barrier from his face to the rest of the world. He looked so nervous, which was something you did not expect. The man who walked with such confidence and was always quick to protect those he deemed worthy of it, was nervous in front of you.

Your eyes scanned his face and took in every little detail that you could in the low light of his room. Your hand traced the frame of his face before you cupped his jaw and ran your thumb over his lips. Din closed his eyes and you felt his lips lightly kiss your thumb. He was so handsome, and you couldn’t resist the urge to lean forward and place a soft kiss to his lips.

He froze at first, but quickly leaned into your touch and wrapped his arms around you as he deepened the kiss. It felt like a burst of flames between your bodies as you embraced each other. It was as if every decision in each of your lives led you to exactly this moment, and nothing had ever felt more right.

“You know,” you whispered with a smirk when you broke away for air, “If I had seen your face earlier, I wouldn’t have stayed mad at you for long.”

Din gave you a quick half smile before he cupped your face with one hand and pulled you back into another kiss. This kiss was much more heated and passionate. You moaned into the kiss as you felt Din shuffle your bodies towards his bed, and you were more than happy to let him lead you there.

Din broke away just for a moment to say your name. He waited for your eyes to open and meet his before he spoke again, “I love you.”

You smiled widely as you kissed him again, “I love you too, Din.”

Notes: Thank you all so much for the amazing response to chapter 1!! I really appreciate all the love on this!! This chapter was really just fluff and falling in love before the dramatic climax in the last chapter. I hope you all are enjoying my take on this tale! Taglists are open so let me know if you’d like to be added to my Pedro characters, Din Djarin or just Hades!Din lists.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fluff #din djarin fluff

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bbugyu · 3 years ago

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of all the views you had seen, there was little that could compare to him.

6.2k | cavalry captain!jeonghan x gn pyro!reader, genshin impact au, fluff, adventure, drinking, so much flirting, mentions of trauma, honestly this is the sweetest i'm ever gonna write jeonghan

happy inazuma release day!!! it's your local kaeya trash, because i predictably fall for gay bastards that lie straight to my face (example: jeonghan), and i'm here to give you a fic i wrote AGES ago and just polished up a bit to celebrate the release of what is likely going to be my FAVORITE region in genshin impact. i'm japanese so 😅 i have a soft spot. if there's any other gaymer carats out there, enjoy this one. if not, sorry! you can actually probably still read this and understand it for the most part, though you might miss a bit of context of the landscape and the lore.

ps. go tell @babiemingoo that wonwoo xinqiu 🤭

your work with the adventurer's guild was always efficient. you received your commissions, you carried them out, then returned for your reward, usually before the sun had even peaked. the rest of your day was generally spent either basking in the eternal sun of mondstadt, feeding cats in inazuma, or enjoying a hard earned meal in liyue, depending on where you decided to stay that week, finding board and paying for it with the commission you had earned that day. your tendency to wander came less from choice and more from nature - you could call yourself a nomad, but generally, you just got bored, and preferred seeing everything teyvat had to offer rather than settling in one place. adventuring was simply what you were meant to do, your mother had told you at a young age.

she, too, had wandered for most of her youth, and didn't stop just because you had come into her life. you remembered getting scooped up because you had wandered off a bit too close to the railing at wangshu inn as a toddler, playing with dogs at the docks of liyue harbor. you remembered the ludi harpastum and the first time you had ever had a sweet honey roast, and the way it made your eyes grow ten times in size before you dug in for more.

when your vision was bestowed upon you, you already knew how to use a sword. it was important, your mother told you, that you knew how to protect yourself. she had a vision as well, younger even than you had, and you had come to recognize the static in the air as a sign that she was angry - whether it was because of an altercation with someone on your journey or because you had secretly eaten the last hashbrown without consulting her first.

she used her vision and a sturdy blade she had owned since before you were born to protect the two of you on the road, but when she felt you were old enough, she taught you how to weild. a two handed weapon that was far too big for you when you were only fourteen, but when your reckless abandon got paired with a spark, you suddenly became far more dangerous than even your own mother. she scolded you for nearly starting a forest fire when you tried to pair the two skills for the first time after receiving your vision, and you both agreed that training was a beach activity from then on.

your mother settled eventually, after you were old and skilled enough to take on the road alone, pulling the many favors she had gathered in her travels to build a home in a small neighborhood south of liyue harbor, nestled in the foothills of mount tianheng, where you visited as often as your wandering allowed.

you had become much better with your vision. more careful but just as hot. quick to scan situations and strategize in the moment, hardly taking a second before jumping into action, slaying hilichurls like you were getting paid. well, you were, you supposed, but you had been doing this long before you had discovered the benefit of joining the guild. you were good at it. you were built for adventure, but revelled in leisure. there was good reason you were able to take afternoons off, and you milked every last second of it.

"you're back in town?"

you grinned, leaning your sword against the wall and dropping your bag off your shoulders before settling at the bar. "for now."

rubin often served you alcohol - when you were in mondstadt, at least, however often that may be - but never questioned you deeply. he would ask how your travels were, and listen to your stories from regions beyond his knowledge, of the cultures that he had only heard of from people like you. he enjoyed them just about as much as any, if not a little more, purely because your tenacious personality brought something more to the table. he wondered, though, how long you intended to keep living day by day, sleeping in different beds every week.

"what's wrong with sleeping in different beds?" you teased, laughing into your wine glass. "if i didn't know any better, i'd think you were shaming me, rube."

rubin simply laughed, knowing your tone by now. "i just wonder if you ever intend on digging in your roots, or if you'll continue travelling forever."

"if i dig roots, you may never see me again. is that what you want?"

"what," he said. "you don't like mondstadt?"

"i love monstadt," you assured him. "but i also love inazuma. and my mother is in liyue, though she might be upset with me if i try to settle too close to her. perhaps natlan would suit me more?" you shrugged finally, the door behind you opening as you finished with "i suppose i'll settle when i've found a reason to love one place more than the rest."

rubin shook his head, a chuckle falling from his lips. "a wanderer through and through." his attention was quickly drawn to the man entering the bar. "ah, captain! the usual?"

"please," the decorated man said, quickly taking a seat beside you despite the rest of the bar being available. "would you like another, wanderer?"

you eyed him cautiously, studying what you could see if his face around the black eyepatch, gaze skimming down his elaborate clothing before looking down at your emptied drink. "sure."

"another for your wandering friend, rubin, on my tab, please." your brain swirled, considering the brief information you had been given and wondered how you had never managed to meet this regular during your past visits. "are you just drinking dandelion wine, or something more fun?"

"more fun?" you asked. "what are you drinking, then?"

"well, a death after noon, of course," he stated. "don't tell me you haven't had one."

you blinked at him. "i haven't."

you turned towards rubin when he laughed at the back and forth. "shall i make two, then?"

"definitely," your new drinking buddy said, then gestured to you. "you trust my taste, right?"

you said nothing, but he accepted your silent smile as an agreeance. "captain," you said finally, thinking of how rubin had addressed him. "of?"

the man turned towards you, his elbow planted on the bar and his cheek on a fist. despite his get up, he had a playful smirk across his lips. "you mean, my reputation doesn't precede me? you really are a wanderer. everyone in mondstadt knows my name."

"everyone but me," you corrected. "as i'm currently in mondstadt."

his teeth shone behind his smirking lips before he sat up straight. "well, allow me to introduce myself." he saluted, his arm extending from his side at an angle - a salute you recognized from the guards around the city. "i am jeonghan, the cavalry captain of the knights of favonius."

"ah, the knights," you smiled briefly, before letting your eyes wander as you thought, crossing your arms over the bar. "i don't see much of a cavalry in the city, though."

he let out an amused exhale. "so i have a bit more free time these days."

"i'm sure the acting grand master is jealous of all your free time," you teased. "poor guy, looks like he's staving off a panic attack every time i see him. you should probably help him more."

"so," he sighed, leaning against the bar again. "you know of the acting grand master but not me?"

"jihoon?" you asked. "of course i know of him. he's all anyone ever talks about around here."

jeonghan nodded once, thanking rubin when he placed two drinks before you. "people talk about me, also, you know."

your lips stuck out in a pout. "jeonghan, you said? doesn't ring a bell."

he rolled his eyes and picked up his drink, holding it out for you to cheers against. you giggled, clinking your glass against his before taking a sip. the golden liquid was sweet, but not like the dandelion wine you had grown to love in this region. it had more depth, a subtle bitterness to it, and a refreshing bubble. you stared after the glass when it left your lips, then looked over to find jeonghan grinning at you.

"i see why it's your usual," you said, taking another sip before placing the glass on the bar. "i could drink too many."

"will you?" he asked.

"not tonight," you replied coolly. "i haven't asked sana to put me up at the guild yet, and if i get there too late, i'll get a cot instead of a bed. unless rubin finally wants to come clean about something?"

the bartender laughed. "how many times do i have to tell you? we don't even have rooms to board."

you squinted at him. "i know there's something upstairs. i'll learn your secrets one day, rube."

"i wouldn't be a very good bartender if i didn't know how to keep them."

"so you're in the guild?" jeonghan asked as rubin attended to another patron. "an adventuring wanderer."

you smiled vaguely at him. "i am. i have to pay for my travels somehow."

he shrugged. "there's other ways to make money. probably more profitable, too."

you eyed his teasing smirk. "i'm not sure i know what you're implying."

"as a captain of the knights of favonius, i assure you, i'm implying nothing at all," he said, exhaling sharply and adjusting on his stool. he leaned over towards you before speaking in a quieter tone. "but as jeonghan, i think you know exactly what i'm implying."

you only laughed, recognizing the thinly veiled attempt to worm a secret out of you. "i outgrew those means a long time ago. besides, when mora gets tight, i can always board up with my mother. i like liyue enough."

jeonghan studied you as you drank again. "liyue's home, is it?'

"for her, yes," you said, looking over to him, but you found yourself looking away again when his steely blue gaze met yours. you thought carefully about how much of yourself you were willing to reveal to this stranger, especially considering how important he was in the rule of the city. "she was a wanderer, too, and ended up falling in love with liyue harbor."

jeonghan made note of the way your face softened as you spoke about your mother. "and what about you?"

you met his intent look again, thinking about how his covered eye somehow made him even more intimidating. perhaps that was its purpose. "what about me?"

"what have you fallen in love with?"

a smile crept onto your lips as you processed his question. "oh, archons, what have i not fallen in love with? the smell of the open ocean in inazuma, the breathtaking temples in sumeru - have you ever been to waterfall city?"

jeonghan merely shook his head at you, the corners of his mouth turning upwards as he put his cheek on a fist again, leaning against the bar. "beautiful?"

you exhaled, eyes wide as you thought of the towering falls and the light mist that covered the city, trying to come up with an apt description. "humbling. there's nothing like it."

he watched your expression, head tilting further. "what a wonderful way to describe a place. tell me more."

your gaze went to him, then away briefly, feeling suddenly shy as you noticed his look. "about waterfall city?"

he shrugged a fur covered shoulder, shaking his head lightly. "about anywhere. describe your world, wanderer. i'd like to hear whatever you have to say."

you wondered if the heat that ran through you was because of the alcohol or the man, but you just took another drink and cleared your throat lightly, thinking of more places you had discovered in your travels. you thought of qingce village, one of your favorite places to visit, because the people are kind and welcoming and the fields are so beautiful. you told him about a tea shop owned by an old man - he insisted you call him pops so fiercely that you weren't even sure you had caught his given name - and it was probably the most relaxing cup of tea you ever had.

"it's been a while since i've gone," you sighed. "i think i'm overdue for a chat with pops and his tea."

jeonghan was smiling when you looked at him again. "the tea in liyue is unmatched," he said, reaching for his drink. before taking another sip, he gestured for you to continue.

so you did. you told him about sakura pond, about celestia city, about the volcanic black beaches. you told him liyue had your favorite people, but inazuma had your favorite food. he clicked his tongue at you.

"what about mondstadt? do we have one of your favorites?"

you smiled, genuinely. "sunsets. the night sky is different here than it is anywhere else. i think mondstadt is the closest we can get to the stars without joining the archons."

jeonghan studied you briefly, his blue eye flicking over your face as you finished your drink. "i think that's an apt observation. it seems your eyes are always wide."

"i travel for the views," you exhaled. "i don't plan on missing any."

he thought a second. "have you been to starsnatch cliff?"

your eyes lit up. "not in years," you said, in complete shock that you could have forgotten such a place. you pushed from the bar slightly, turning towards him, and he noticed the flash of a red gem strapped to your right thigh for the first time. "my mother took me there when i was a kid, but i haven't gone since."

"it never gets old," he said, sipping at the end of his drink. "i've yet to see that view and not be in awe."

"i'll go before i leave mondstadt again," you decided.

he looked to you. "when will that be?"

you sighed. "not sure, yet."

he just chuckled. "would you like another drink?"

"oh, no," you said, standing and stretching your spine. "i should make my leave. i don't like sleeping on cots. i just came by to let my ol' pal rube know i was in town again."

jeonghan watched you pull your pack onto your back, grabbing the handle of your sheathed claymore from where it was leaning against the wall next to the bar. "perhaps i'll see you again tomorrow?"

you looked at him, a vague smile on your lips as you strapped your sword back on. "perhaps you will, captain."

"jeonghan," he corrected. "but i don't believe you ever shared your name?"

"that was by design, captain," you said, and he swore he caught a glint in your eye as you bid rubin a farewell and stepped out of the angel's share.

jeonghan spun back around on his stool, immediately looking to rubin. "do you know their name?"

"no, sir," he said, looking at the closed door. "they've never said."

jeonghan's gaze went to the empty glass you had left behind, thinking about your stories, your sword, and the signifier of your vision on your thigh. "fascinating."

you got lucky - sana had a private room for you, and said you were welcome to rent it for your stay. she said not many people were travelling to mondstadt these days, and that more often than not, the adventurer's barracks in headquarters went unused. ever since the fatui had holed up in the grand goth hotel, it had been harder for you to make extended stays in mondstadt, but it seemed that something was telling you to stick around longer than usual. you laid on the hard mattress - a feeling that was more comforting than most, thanks to your continuous travels - and thought of the charming captain that had made a night of questioning you. you wondered if he really had any interest in anything you had to say, or if he had been hoping for details about something pertinent to an investigation.

you packed a lighter bag in the morning, only bringing along the essentials as you set out for your commissions for the day. that afternoon, you wandered around mondstadt and asked questions. questions about the simultaneously well-discussed and mysterious cavalry captain that had listened to your tales of travel, and answers came easier than expected, though they didn't contain all the details you were looking for. that night, you waited up at the angel's share to brag about your newfound knowledge to the captain that never showed, and you did your best to not let that hurt your ego.

the next day, you made a detour on your way back to the city after completing your commissions, stopping by springvale to enjoy a well deserved lunch and catch up with some locals. you sat in the grass with a skewer of grilled meat, watching the windmills of mondstadt steadily spin in the distance as time passed, thinking about how rubin had asked you if you didn't like it here.

you did, you decided. mondstadt felt different than anywhere else you had been. untouched, almost. wilder. freer. despite being born in inazuma, your first memories being in celestia, or your mother being in liyue, mondstadt felt comfortable. felt like a home. you wondered to yourself what that might mean.

sana greeted you happily when you returned much later than you normally did. she told you to go ahead to the guild and come back, filing away your reports and retrieving your rewards. you dropped off your things in your rented room, quickly, practically galloping back down the steps towards the entrance of the city to continue your conversation with the adventurer guilds' mighty receptionist without your sword weighing you down. you crossed your arms on the counter, comfortably lounging as you chatted with her, having always enjoyed her conversations more than most. like rubin, she was a reason mondstadt always felt comfortable.

"fancy meeting you here," an all too familiar voice said, and you pulled your eyes from sana to find jeonghan leaning his side against the counter next to you.

"good evening, cavalry captain!" sana chirped, placing your reward - your room free already removed - on the counter and bowing politely. "can i help you with anything today?"

his icy gaze flickered from your lightly curved lips towards sana. "oh, no, my dear. i'm just coming back from an investigation near springvale"

"interesting," you said, eyeing him. "i was just there and didn't see you."

"i wouldn't be very good at my job if you did, wanderer," he grinned. "knight business, you wouldn't understand. got the assignment yesterday."

"ah," you shifted to your side to face him, making him eye the vision on your thigh. "is that why you never showed? rubin was worried."

he looked you up and down. "rubin was, huh?"

you rolled your eyes and adjusted your posture to face away from his smirk. sana looked between the two of you twice before clearing her throat as quietly as possible, making jeonghan let out a chuckle before he directed his attention to the guild's receptionist.

"how goes holding the post, sana?"

she looked almost frightened when the attention was directed back to her. "good, captain! in fact, one of our most capable adventurers-" she gestured to you, "-just returned from taking care of some of our more difficult commissions - no one else would take them."

jeonghan looked at you. "why did sana have to tell your secret?"

your eyebrows quirked upwards. "what secret?"

"that you're good at this. shouldn't you be bragging?"

a chuckle spilled from your lips, and jeonghan watched you as you looked away. "i'm not the bragging type."

he studied you a moment. "what type are you, then?"

you considered the question, wondering exactly how to answer. what type were you? if not a teller, than surely you must be a shower, but that didn't seem right either. you exhaled. "the quiet type. see you later, sana."

he laughed, pushing off the counter as you tucked your mora into your waist bag, wishing sana a good evening and following you towards the fountain. "you sure talk a lot for being the quiet type."

a smirk landed itself on your lips as he fell into step beside you. "maybe private is a better description."

"that one i can see," jeonghan said, looking over to you. he thought of how you had spent nearly an hour telling him about the best views in teyvat, yet he still didn't know the most basic information about you. "do you share your name with anyone?"

you thought. "my mother."

he scoffed. "anyone else?"

you looked to the sky. "rubin."

"wrong," he retorted. "he doesn't know your name, either."

you laughed, looking over to him as you came up to the fountain, spinning and sitting back on the ledge. "you asked?"

"of course i asked," he said, planting one foot on the ledge beside you and placing his arms on his knee. "i asked other people, too. almost everyone knows you, but they don't know anything about you. bits and pieces, but never the full picture."

you just smiled up at him from your relaxed posture on the concrete. "what's wrong with a little intrigue?"

he just smiled back at you. "nothing. i tend to keep a bit myself. did you know there's a large number of people in this city that were shocked when i said you wield a claymore?"

you hummed, dipping the tips of your fingers into the fountain. "did you know there's a large number of people in this city that consider you the most eligible bachelor in not only mondstadt, but in all of teyvat?"

his lips parted slightly as you spoke. "so you snooped, too."

"i was bored yesterday. it wasn't hard," you exhaled. you flicked a drop of water towards his foot. "jeonghan yoon, the cavalry captain of the knights of favonius since he was only nineteen. who loves wine and whose adopted brother runs the biggest winery in teyvat, yet they're hardly ever seen speaking. who comes from a far off land on a different continent, but has come to love mondstadt like it was his home. who wears an eyepatch but has never told anyone why."

he chuckled at the assessment and pulled his foot off the ledge to sit beside you. "so when do i get to learn about you?"

"i told you about me yesterday," you said.

"you told me about teyvat," he corrected. "and while i was able to infer some things about your character, i still know close to nothing about you."

you thought for a moment, realizing no one had ever noticed how little you truly shared despite always being willing to tell stories. "sometimes it feels like i am teyvat. it's hard to think of things that are just about me."

"you could start with that vision," he said, nodding at the strap across your thigh. you looked down at it, exhaling.

"what's there to tell? you know what it means, and that's more teyvat than me, too."

he leaned back on a hand, looking you up and down in curiosity. "how old were you."

you chewed your cheek. "fourteen. you?"

his lip quirked upwards. "sixteen."

you bumped his shoulder with yours playfully. "beat you."

he laughed. "how'd it happen?"

you paused. "you go first."

he just chuckled and looked away, watching a dog wander past the general store. "another day, then."

"no fun," you sighed, brushing your hands together as you leaned forward. "what about the eyepatch?"

he met your eyes, mouth slanted in a smirk. "another day."

you clicked your tongue. "if you wanna learn about me, you have to be willing to give up some details, too. i value a fair trade."

"then stop asking questions that you know i won't share the answer to." jeonghan noticed the color of the sky, then suddenly pulled a pocket watch out, checking it quickly to confirm that there was enough time and stood. "come with me?"

you stared up at him. "where?"

he grinned, extending a hand to help you to your feet. "you said mondstadt's sunsets were your favorite, correct?"

you generally weren't prone to following mysterious men into back corridors, but jeonghan easily convinced you with no words at all that sneaking around the sight line of the acting grand master was completely normal behavior, sushing you with a grin as you giggled, taking refuge around a corner after the two of you made it up to the second floor of the favonius headquarters. he tugged your hand with his, pulling you into a steep maintenance staircase behind a door.

"this feels like it's against some rules," you said, climbing the stairs behind him.

"nonsense," he said, looking back at you and grinning. "are you suggesting that a knight of favonius would break rules just to impress a mysterious traveler?"

you laughed quietly, wondering if he really meant that he wanted to impress you. "not most, but maybe this one."

he only thought for a split second. "if anyone asks, we're on official knight business."

he opened the door and you found the sky again, beginning to glow orange as the edge of the sun began to hide behind the cliffs. you stared in awe at the way the few fluffy clouds reflected pink and gold, then readjusted your focus when jeonghan spoke again.

"i hope you aren't afraid of heights," he said, walking over to the parapets that surrounded you. "the best view requires a bit of a climb."

you looked up at the tower, and while it wasn't much higher than where you stood, you also recognized that you were well above most of mondstadt already. "you climb up there?"

he paused, studying you. "we don't have to, we can just sit on a merlon-"

"no, we can climb," you said, walking over to where he was and eyeing the small gap between the parapet and the adjacent roof. "hop over?"

he laughed, stepping over the gap and holding a hand out for you. "watch your step."

and though you didn't need it, you accepted the hand anyways, and it stayed on yours as you walked over the roof to the tower, as if making sure you didn't misstep several stories in the air.

"would you like to go first?" he asked. "i'll catch you if you fall."

you rolled your eyes at him, dropping your hand from his grip. "you go first. i want to see where the handholds are."

he just grinned at you. "very well," he said, tugging on the wrists of his fingerless gloves to make sure they were taught against his skin before taking hold of a brick. you watched him as he took foothold after foothold, and he resisted the urge to show off by speedily scaling the wall in favor of making sure you had the chance to see where he gripped. when he reached the opening in the tower, he pulled himself up and spun around, exhaling with a grin as he seated himself at the ledge with his legs dangling above you.

"your turn."

you adjusted your waist bag as you sighed in amused annoyance, spinning it to be behind you and out of your hips' way to climb the wall. it wasn't much - a couple meters, maybe - and you had definitely climbed further, but jeonghan's presence made you slightly nervous. that nervousness, however, just fueled you to prove yourself.

you scaled the wall easily, making jeonghan whistle and jokingly call you some kind of adventurer, and your only hesitation came when his hand was in your face. despite your initial inclination to ignore it, you put your left hand in his, allowing him to help you pull yourself up on the ledge and sit beside him.

"impressive," he commented.

you laughed, brushing off your hands. "you, too."

"c'mon," he said, gesturing his head over his shoulder before making moves to stand. "the view's on the other side."

you sighed, looking over the view of mondstadt shrouded in golden light as he stood and walked to the other ledge. "never a moment of rest with you."

"if you want to miss the sunset, be my guest."

you leaned back on your hands and laughed, pulling your gaze away from the city to look at where jeonghan had seated himself on the other end of the tower, and subsequently the view of the rolling hills beyond him that were glowing golden in the evening sun. you blinked for a second, realizing you hadn't seen the sunset the night before, and quickly got to your feet to join him before you missed this one, too.

he gave you a soft smile when you sat beside him, and you briefly wondered how many he had in his repertoire. the wind was stronger higher, whipping gently through his hair and alleviating any uncomfortable warmth you may have had from exerting yourself on the way up. you watched the dregs of sunlight skip across the grassy hills and the sky turn deep orange and bright pink, feet swinging lightly over the edge of the tower.

"i was fighting with my brother," he said suddenly, causing you to look at him with a start before you realized he was telling you about his vision. there was a slight smile on his face as he looked out on the fields. "hyungwon. it was bad. he already had his - he's a pyro, like you - and we were both young and stupid and just lost our dad. we were sword fighting and it came to me when i needed it. it probably saved my life, honestly."

you blinked at him. "you think he would have killed you?'

he exhaled, leaning back on his hands. "i think if the roles had been reversed, i would have tried to kill him, too. i'm grateful it didn't go that way, though." he coughed abruptly, clearing his throat. "we're on speaking terms, and i do love him as a brother, but i generally avoid him."

you let that thought ruminate as you watched the sun sink, halfway beyond the horizon. "my father was in a gang in inazuma, but my mom ran away when she found out she was pregnant. didn't want to raise a kid in that world, i guess? we ran into him when i got older and he wasn't very understanding." you paused, remembering the detail too well. "they were going to take her vision. that's what they did to traitors. probably take me, too. they weren't expecting me to start setting fires."

jeonghan's gaze was on you as yours was on the horizon. "just a couple of survivors."

you looked over at him, a smirk on your lips. "a couple?"

he laughed waving at your implication, thinking he would have said the same thing in an attempt to fluster you just as you were to him. "like, more than one and less than four."

you only laughed back. "fortune favors the weak, i suppose. the archons saw we needed help and extended a fig branch."

"is that what it was?" he asked, a laugh on his lips. "we were both fighting people. that's hardly an offer of peace."

"look for the deeper meaning, jeonghan. we were fighting for our lives," you pointed out, and he realized it was the first time you had addressed him by his name rather than his title. "i was fighting for family. for freedom. is that not the greatest pursuit of peace?"

he watched you as you pulled your knees to your chest, putting your feet on the edge of the stonework surface you sat on. he studied the way the golden rays lit your skin and made your eyes sparkle. "i suppose so."

you paused in that moment for a long while, and jeonghan allowed the comfortable silence as the two of you watched the sun disappear beyond the cliffs of mondstadt. the sky was turning a deep shade of purple when you told him your name, and jeonghan thought that it was quite possibly the best news he had ever received, but he kept that joy to himself as he confirmed your name, and you rolled your eyes.

"are you gonna answer my other question now?"

he scoffed. "about the eyepatch? is it really that interesting?"

"not any more interesting than my name," you retorted.

"completely untrue," jeonghan insisted. "i've never been so excited to be told a secret, and i get told a lot of secrets."

you eyed his smile warily. "my name may be unknown, but it's no secret."

he sighed and shook his head lightly. "you really wanna know the reason i wear it? it's probably not as dramatic as you're hoping."

"yet you hide it?"

he laughed. "what's wrong with a little intrigue?"

you looked away, recognizing the parrot of your own words. "whatever you say, captain."

"no!" he whined and grabbed your arm, making you start and look at him with big eyes. "you just started calling me jeonghan, don't go back to captain."

you stared at him, only breaking to laugh, dropping your legs over the edge again. "you won't show me what's under the eyepatch, so i thought we weren't on first name basis."

his hand on your bicep was warm and gentle, but his gaze was piercing as he thought it over for a bit longer. you did your best to hold it, but you felt yourself shrinking when he quietly muttered, "go on, then."

it took you a second to register what he meant, and you reached out slowly, fingers hesitating before they brushed upon his cheekbone. jeonghan closed his eyes, resigning to your touch as you gently lifted the eyepatch. his eyes opened again, slowly, and you thought your heart might have skipped a beat.

"like chocolate," you commented, and a smile spread across his lips.

"that's the kindest reaction i've gotten."

your fingers fell upon his temple, brushing down gently as you inspected his singular brown eye. "since birth?"

he nodded, his eyes flicking down to your lips briefly before he spoke. "heterochromia. it's a characteristic of my family."

you studied his face. "not the one here?"

he sighed. "not the one here."

the icy blue of jeonghan's eye had always struck something in you. it made him mysterious. commanding. it felt like he saw more than you despite having one eye covered. but now, you felt warm. you felt his gentleness. there was comfort hidden away behind that black patch, and you told him that you understood why the cavalry captain had chosen to hide the eye he did.

but to you, he was willing to show anything that would keep you around longer, he said.

"why me?" you asked, studying his expression when he looked away. the sun had retreated behind the hills, leaving the sky a deep blue.

jeonghan didn't respond right away, and you wondered if he himself even knew the answer. "we're birds of a feather, you and i."

you looked out to the view again, watching the subtle movements of the wild hills. "did you travel much before you came here?"

"it was all i knew," he told you. "i was thirteen when my father left me here."

your neck snapped, your eyes on his profile when he leaned back on his hands. "left you?"

he almost laughed, a smile on his lips when his eyes met yours. "i was slowing him down, i suppose. hyungwon's father found me and took me in."

"so you stayed?"

"i didn't always want to," he assured you. "i had the itch to leave for years. as soon as i was able, i always told myself." he paused, eyes dropping. "then father died. then hyungwon turned down his position with the knights. and i was their second choice."

you pursed your lips. "you stayed for a job."

he laughed. "it's not that simple."

you smiled at him, enjoying the warmth of his eyes on yours as the sky cooled. "are you sure we're birds of a feather?"

"listen," he said, getting off his hands and brushing them off on his thighs. "i accepted the job so that i could set the story straight. i didn't want to run from the people that believed that hyungwon tried to kill me to avenge our father."

you studied him. "i'm sorry."

"don't be," he said, nudging your shoulder. "i was still planning on leaving, but then i fell in love."

you looked away, trying to sort out the way your stomach flipped. "are they still around?"

"not with a person," he laughed, then nodded towards the now dark hills. "with the views. besides, i get free reign whenever i leave for missions. i have fun adventuring, and come home to the best sunsets in teyvat. there are worse places to call home."

your eyes scanned the horizon, remembering the brilliant rays of sun you had just seen skip across it. "that is tempting."

"how tempting?" he asked.

you thought on that for a moment. "almost as much as a death after noon right now."

jeonghan laughed, slightly proud that he had hooked you on his favorite drink. "shall we go see rubin, then?"

you hummed, smiling at the captain. "as long as i don't have to sit alone again."

"that's a promise," he told you as he stood, holding out a hand that you took without hesitation, though he withheld his intention to make sure you were never alone again.

#hehe i came up with a whole thing #this was basically me wanting to write kaeya fanfic but knowing i would wanna post it so writing it about jeonghan instead #caratwritersclub #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #hannie #genshin impact au #jeonghan is kaeya and im just right #i wrote dis

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