#like sir do NOT go back to the dynasty with that thing
Note
Hello, this is my first time asking a request.
I was thinking of maybe a modern au of Daemon x Reader you have the free reign of what business he’s rich in. He can be in the Targaryen dynasty or he chose independent because he loves freedom.
Reader can be fresh graduate or a current employee of his company and they just argue a lot be he likes her secretly. 😏
Hello! Here's my take on this lovely request! I hope you enjoyyy
Daemon x Reader - Pay for It (Modern AU)
Content Warnings/Kinks: mentions of workplace harassment, imbalance of power (the employee/boss dynamic is definitely played with), degradation, praise kink, spanking, oral sex (male and female receiving), cum swallowing penetrative vaginal sex
Pay for It
“Sir?” Y/n’s voice echoed through the empty office.
She’d received the invitation to attend the after-work social from her boss but found not a soul at the location. Gripping her purse tightly she walked cautiously to her boss’s office, knocking on the door and opening it when she heard a small grunt.
“Mr.Targaryen, hi” she greeted him, pasting on a superficial smile, taking in his perfectly tailored suit and swooping, brown hair.
“Ms. Y/l/n” his voice was so cold that she shivered.
“Where is everyone?”
“Out at the bars, I suspect” he responded cooly, “It is a Friday night after all”
“Sir?” She questioned, “I’m sorry but I don’t understand”
“I’m sure you do Y/n” his grin was cruel, “Go on love, give it a good think...”
“Did you send a fake invitation just so you could be alone with me?” She backed up as she spoke, “You know I think that’s violating HR protocol…”
“Violating protocol” Daemon’s laugh was cold and humourless, “Tell me Ms.Y/l/n, how long did you think you could steal information from my company as a spy for Greens Inc?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about…sir”
“Oh sure” he scoffed, cockily, “And I’m assuming you don’t know anything about the files that have been missing from my computer either”
Her doe eyes turned deadly, “We’ll destroy you from the inside out, just you wait and see…”
She strutted back toward the door, stopping in her tracks as strong arms caged her from behind.
“Otto Hightower’s a smart man but clearly not smart enough if he chose you to do his bidding” Daemon sneered.
Gulping down the lump in her throat, she faced him, inserting boldly, "I’ve taken more than you know”
“The only thing you’re going to be taking tonight is my cock in your mouth”
The small whimper that slipped from her mouth at the thought, betrayed her true feelings.
“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” He circled around her like a vulture before smirking, “You like it when I degrade you? When I abuse my power over you? I’ve seen it Y/n, every single day that you’ve pretended to work here, you practically melt when I’m critical and when I yell at your co-workers…Is that why you’ve stayed so long here pretending to steal my secrets?”
“No” she lied badly, wincing at how unconvincing she sounded.
“Sure…”
“You can’t make me” she jutted out her chin.
“I wouldn’t but you know what I think Y/n? I think you you’ll do exactly what I say, exactly when I say it anyway. So get on your knees love and show me just how sorry you are,” His finger traced her jaw tilting her defiant face up toward him, “You be good for me tonight and I might just let you pay for your little mistake with your body”
Y/n couldn’t deny anything that Daemon had said. It was true that she wanted him, if anything, she felt her need for him was even more desperate than he knew. Since she’d first laid eyes on him she knew she had to have him, in any way possible, even if Greens Inc. would punish her for switching sides. When she sunk to her knees, Daemon smiled like he’d won.
“That’s it, good girl” his praise made wetness begin to build between her thighs, “Show me how bad you’ve been wanting me…”
She opened her mouth wide, letting him admire her obedience before beginning. Her tongue traced up and down the length of his shaft, licking and tracing the veins in his hard flesh. He didn’t once take his piercing gaze off of her as she bobbed up and down, one of her hands gripped around the base of his shaft as she moved slowly up and down, teasing him.
“Yes—fuck yes,” he said roughly, his voice tight.
His grip in her hair was tight but the pressure on her head was light as if he was allowing her to do with him as she pleased. Bobbing and bobbing she satisfied him. Every time she came up off of him a thin trail of saliva connected her bottom lip to the tip of his cock. She smiled to herself when she noticed that the wetter, the messier she got, the more Daemon groaned. Soon, his moans were practically becoming low growls, desperate and dark sounds that reverberated throughout his glassy, modern office.
"So fucking good for me love” he grunted, “Yes, keep going for me, faster”
She complied, speeding up her pace, matching Daemon’s need as his hips rutted his long cock into her mouth and hand. He wanted her to pay with her body, well, she was certainly starting with her mouth.
“Fuck” he strained, cumming down her throat. She sucked tightly around him, pulling her mouth up off of him slowly, taking every drop he had to offer.
When she finally flicked her gaze back up to him she was almost startled by the intensity of his gaze. She knew that look, she’d seen it on other men before, and she certainly knew what it meant for her now.
Y/n stood before pressing her chest to his, running her hands up his back, making him shiver. She leaned forward, placing a hesitant kiss on the corner of his mouth. That was all he needed before beginning to devour her. Daemon’s kisses were wild with desire, his fierce lust making her melt in his rough palms. She bit down on his lip, tugging at it causing him to groan into her mouth, deepening their kiss. Pushing her back towards the desk, both their need was palpable.
“I just need a little, just a taste—“ he practically whimpered as they moved back into the office towards his large desk.
“So desperate for me huh?” she teased, though out of breath herself “What happened to that fiery anger of yours?”
He groaned into the crook of her neck, making her skin pebble with goosebumps, “Tell me that you want it…I know you do but I want to hear you say it like the good little slut that you are”
“I want you to fuck me with your mouth” she broke away from his kisses to make eye contact as she said it, sliding her ass onto the edge of his desk.
“Good fucking girl” he praised, sitting in the office chair directly in front of her.
She took her panties off, sliding them down her legs, leaving her short skirt on but spreading her legs wide enough so that he could see just how wet she was for him.
Daemon ran his hands through his hair, seemingly overwhelmed by the sight of her. A second later, he began peppering kisses along her inner thighs, stopping before he reached her wet cunt.
“Where do you want it? Tell me what you like” He asked between kisses.
“My clit” she begged, “please”
His tongue settled immediately exactly where she wanted him, not bothering with anything else.
She whimpered in response, her body writhed as he began to satisfy the throbbing need between her legs.
“Fuck you’re good,” she moaned at the initial feeling of his gentle, flicking tongue on her.
Her back arched upward as his tongue slid up and down, lapping at her with an ease and skill that only came from practice. She felt as if all the tension in her body was beginning to loosen, pouring out of her like warm honey. Her desperation was growing with each lazy flick of his tongue.
“Daemon…” she whimpered, gripping her hands in his silvery hair.
“Yeah I know love” he spanked her thigh harshly, “Such a good little slut”
Gripping her thighs, he pulled her closer to his mouth, devouring her with every wet movement of his tongue. Her clit throbbed as he sucked the skin around it, covering it with his whole mouth, each motion going upwards. The sensation began to spread, from her clit to her lips to her stomach and thighs until her entire body was practically on fire.
“Fuck” she cried out as the feeling came closer and closer, “I’m gonna—I’m—ohh”
Her heart beat faster and faster as his mouth hummed on her, licking her like he needed her taste coating his tongue to live, to breathe. Y/n’s open, moaning mouth went dry as the feeling surged through her body. She shivered, holding onto him for dear life, as the waves of her orgasm lulled inside her.
After, Daemon’s cum-slick lips found hers. He kissed her, making her taste herself on his tongue, the sour taste causing her to moan into his mouth. His hands slid down her sides, gripping her waist before flipping her over so that her chest was pressed on the fancy desk. Daemon palmed her ass before slowly unzipping her skirt and sliding down her legs so that she was finally bare from the waist down.
“You want it?”
“Yes, Daemon please” she begged.
His tip pressed against her entrance, “You’re sure love?”
“Yes”
He spread her lips with his fingers as he slid into her. Instantly she moaned at the feeling of his cock pushing into her, overwhelmed by how perfectly he fit inside her. The curve of his shaft slid along her soaking-wet walls with ease while his tip rutted right against her g-spot. Twisting backward, her eyes flicked up to his, taking in his reddened lips and the way his eyes were scrunched closed as if the feelings of pleasure were too much for him as well. As Daemon thrust, Y/n’s insides sparked to life, the pleasure igniting within her.
“You’re taking it so well love” he praised as he thrust in and out of her, “Such a good fucking whore for me”
“Fuck…” she whined, his words turning her on even more.
SMACK. She cried out as his palm landed on her bare ass.
“Do you like it when I’m mean to you darling? When I punish you for being bad?” He questioned, his tone innocent despite his words.
SMACK. Another spank made her skin tingle with the painful sensation
“Shit…Daemon” Y/n whimpered.
“I’ll take that as a yes”
One of his hands slunk down her front, his fingers meeting her sensitive clit, making her press back onto him even more. Her cunt tightened around him as he swirled his fingers around and around her clit.
“Fuck—“ she gasped at the feeling of her clit being pleased paired with how deep he was inside of her.
In and out, Daemon refused to slow his powerful pace, each thrust both hard and deep. The result was an onslaught of sensations that engulfed Y/n’s entire body with pure feeling. From her pulsing clit to her shaking legs, she was completely overwhelmed. As they continued, one of his hands gripping her hair so tightly that her back arched, Y/n’s skin flushed becoming hot to the touch. She was literally burning up for him.
“Please, give it to me Daemon, fuck” she moaned, her body shivering with satisfaction.
SMACK. SMACK. SMACK. Daemon’s relentless spanks made her ass sore but the feeling of pleasure that ran through her body each time made the punishment feel more like a reward. As Daemon thrust into her she pushed back onto him, the sound of her ass slapping against his stomach echoing in the large office.
“Fuck—“ he grunted as his orgasm approached, “Keep going for me love, keep it nice and tight just like that”
She screamed, literally crying out as her orgasm erupted within her. He pushed deep inside her as he came, groaning at the way that her cunt tightened and throbbed around him.
“Shit,” he groaned, his hand pushing into the skin of her waist, “You’re fucking milking me love”
“Yes, yes, yes” she ground herself back onto him, helping him to feel exactly how good he’d made her feel.
Eventually, he pulled out, pressing a comforting hand on the small of her back before flipping her over so that she could stand. Feeling vulnerable, she avoided his searching gaze.
“Look at me” he commanded.
She tried to resist but failed, finding she couldn’t resist his order.
“I’m not going to punish you for what you’ve done” his serious look turned into a cheeky smirk, “At least not more than I already have…”
“Really?” She questioned, disbelieving.
“Really” he affirmed, his gaze hardening “But only if you help me take them down in return”
She smiled, game on.
#fanfiction#fanfic#smut#oneshot#daemon targeryen x reader#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen smut#daemon x reader#daemon smut#daemon targaryen
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Daniel Ricciardo: Castles Crumbling
Revisionism and recency bias are perhaps two of the most common things that you'll see in Formula 1 and discussions of how we view drivers. It all goes back to the saying "You're only as good as your last race." This, while true in some sense, is only part of the picture when it comes to a driver and the legacy they'll leave in the sport. One race does not define a driver, just as a small portion of a driver's career does not define the driver.
But in commentary and fan discussions, we continue to see that revisionism and recency bias continue to define driver's careers on everchanging standards.
This season, the argument would be that that Carlos Sainz is a better driver than Charles Leclerc due to any of the following reasons:
He's won a race this year
Ahead in the points
Consistently finishing races in the points
But looking at their careers as a whole, the argument falls apart.
Another case of this is Lewis Hamilton in 2022. He finished behind his teammate in the points, didn't win a race, etc. And that year alone had people questioning if Lewis Hamilton was washed or if he should retire. But again, looking at the career as a whole and not zeroing in on one piece of it, makes the argument fall apart.
A driver's legacy isn't based solely on a piece of their career. Alex Albon's career isn't going to be defined just by the Red Bull years, nor is Pierre Gasly's. Sebastian Vettel's career isn't just defined by his time in Ferrari or Red Bull or Aston Martin. Nor is Carlos Sainz's career going to be defined by his time in one team.
However, when it comes to Daniel Ricciardo, the revisionism and hate is strong. Especially in fan spaces like Twitter.
The two years at McLaren are by many considered to be a definer of Daniel's career, completely ignoring or disregarding what he was able to do in Red Bull and Renault.
In one instance he's a PR merchant, in another he can't draw a crowd.
He gets the car to Q3, qualifies 4th, and spends the whole weekend in 10th -> well then people will say it's the car.
Both he and his teammate don't make it out of Q1 with about .006 separating them -> well then obviously the driver and not the car on that specific track
Castles Crumbling is a song that inherently fits the change in the narrative around Daniel. The premise of Castles Crumbling is your legacy falling apart and no longer being loved by people who were once fans. This is a defining feature of Daniel Ricciardo's public perception in recent years as everything he does is defined by the McLaren stint.
Once, I had an empire in a golden age
I was held up so high, I used to be great
They used to cheer when they saw my face
Now, I fear I have fallen from grace
Once, I was the great hope for a dynasty
Crowds would hang on my words, and they trusted me
Their faith was strong, but I pushed it too far
I held that grudge 'til it tore me apart
Despite what people perpetuate now, coming into McLaren, Daniel was highly regarded and considered a great driver. He was THAT guy.
Netflix's Drive to Survive did a lot in helping Daniel transcend from the normal bounds of an F1 driver. He was the first one to be fully on board and give them so much access to him, his thoughts, and his life. A move that wasn't reciprocated by other drivers, so in that first season, it was all about him from start to end basically. He also had the personality to match.
But even before that, Daniel has been the the guy. Just look at any number of grown men that have taken his sweaty race boots and drunk champagne out of them.
Gerard Butler (USA 2016)
Christian Horner (Malaysia 2016)
Max Verstappen (Malaysia 2016)
Nico Rosberg (Malaysia 2016)
Mark Webber (Germany 2016)
Lance Stroll (Baku 2017)
Sir Patrick Stewart (Canada 2017)
Martin Brundle (Austria 2017)
Adrian Newey (Monaco 2018)
Lewis Hamilton (Imola 2020)
Zak Brown (Monza 2021)
Lando Norris (Monza 2021)
Any number of Red Bull staff over the years
People all around the paddock
Some happily, some with pure disgust, others taking the shoes right off Daniel's feet for a shoey.
Daniel at Silverstone in 2017: "DC took my shoes off and then in Austria, Martin was frothing for it."
Daniel wasn't just his personality as so many would like to say. The racing was there.
In 2014, Daniel came into Red Bull and beat his four-time world champion teammate. He was Red Bull's only race winner that year with three wins. During his first year with Red Bull, Daniel finished third in the championship, just behind the two Mercedes.
Once more in 2016, Daniel finished third in the championship, just behind the two Mercedes. His only win of the year was Malaysia 2016 and with it came the iconic podium of Daniel, Max, Nico, and Christian all taking turns to drink out of the same race shoe.
Nico Rosberg in 2023, talked about his time racing against Daniel in 2016 and said:
"He's such an awesome personality, one of the best wheel-to-wheel racers out there. If I saw in my rear-view mirrors, [Ricciardo] was one of the last guys I would like to see there at the time, with Max Verstappen."
2018 for Daniel was filled with reliability issues and engine problems. Out of the 21 races that year, Daniel retired in 8 of them. He had two wins that year - China and Monaco.
Going into Renault, Formula 1 World Champion and Renault Advisor, Alain Prost, called Daniel worth every penny that the Renault would be paying him
"Daniel is more expensive than other drivers. When you need that to help the team we did it. Money is not a problem but it has to be justified. We have two top drivers, maybe one of the best lineups in F1 today."
With Renault, people forget that 2020 was one of his best years. While he didn't win any races, Daniel did have two podiums. He gave Renault their first podium in about nine years. Additionally, Daniel finished 5th in the championship, higher than anyone would have expected out of the unreliable Renault. He was doing wonders with that car.
Going into McLaren, Daniel was a highly valued asset. And while many like to say he went to McLaren for the money, salary estimates show that going to McLaren was actually a significant pay cut.
With an approximately $22 million pay cut in cash earnings, the move to McLaren cannot be defined as a cash grab. Doing something for the money doesn't usually mean lowering your value by millions.
My foes and friends watch my reign end
I don't know how it could've ended this way
Smoke billows from my ships in the harbor
People look at me like I'm a monster
Now they're screaming at the palace front gates, used to chant my name
Now they're screaming that they hate me
Never wanted you to hate me
So how did we get from being a highly valued driver to endless public hate by fans?
Well revisionism and recency bias.
Daniel’s time with McLaren was admittedly very bad.
(sidenote: Dropping Daniel was the best thing that McLaren could have done for all parties involved. No one can deny that, but how McLaren and Zak Brown conducted themselves was wrong. Say what you will about Red Bull's ruthlessness; Red Bull is upfront about it, and they don't drag the driver around making apologies or videos promising to try harder and signing another driver while doing all that.)
The car and driver did not mesh. But what most people tend to ignore is that the car design was inherently difficult to drive. It was unpredictable. One could argue that Lando was performing well in the car., but Lando has only driven a McLaren. Whereas Daniel's driven an HRT, Toro Rosso, Red Bull, and a Renault. Instead of helping Daniel with the learning curve or setting the car up in a manner that aligned with his driving style, Daniel had to change how he drove.
With all the McLaren struggles, people have chosen to focus on just that phase. Completely ignoring that Daniel was doing wonders with the Red Bull when the car wasn't great and he was doing wonders with the Renault.
Daniel's time post-Red Bull was not all bad and certainly not deserving of the vitriol and hate he receives when there are other drivers who have much less to show for on the grid.
He got two podiums with Renault in 2020 -- the first podiums that Renault had gotten in years. He was 5th in the standings.
And let's not forget that Daniel got McLaren its only win since 2012. Maybe you can say that the only reason Daniel won is due to the Max and Lewis crash or that Lando was told to stay behind. However, Daniel overtook Max at the start while Lando lost a position to Lewis. Daniel had been the one to take his shot when it mattered. As for the team orders to hold position, well Daniel could have gone faster if he wanted to as we can see with him pulling out the fastest lap on the final lap.
(A random thought that came to me during the research for this: do we think Christian Horner wants a Daniel-related tattoo as well and hates that Cyril and Zak have Daniel-related tattoos? Because if I was in Christian's position, I would want that tattoo. Like you put all this time and investment into a driver and then two other team principals that either took him away from you or couldn't get the most out of him have tattoos chosen by Daniel.)
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WIP Wednesday & OC Interview(s)
Tagged by @nightbloodbix & @josephslittledeputy and @g0dspeeed
Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @inafieldofdaisies @shallow-gravy @strangefable @strafethesesinners @corvosattano @carlosoliveiraa @adelaidedrubman @minilev @ladyoriza @josephseedismyfather @trashcatsnark @chazz-anova @snake-in-the-garden @cassietrn @softtidesworld @wrathfulrook @onehornedbeast @voidika @henbased @vampireninjabunnies-blog @florbelles @direwombat @derelictheretic @deputyash @dephellseed @deputy-morgan-malone @skoll-sun-eater @fourlittleseedlings @afarcryfrommymain @titiagls @megraen @starsandskies @la-grosse-patate @cloudofbutterflies92 @thewanderer-000 and @i-am-the-balancing-point + anyone else who wants to join. Here's my taglist if you want to continue being tagged or not.
Got a WIP for The Thorned Crown of Iron Thrones and three OC interviews for The UnTitledverse, Far Cry The Silver Chronicles and A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore. You can find these under the cut.
WIP for my House of the Dragon fic, The Thorned Crown of Iron Thrones, a fic set in my Life, Despair & Monsters series, following the tragic dynasty of the Targaryens as shown in House of the Dragon... but taking all of that and making the situation 1,000 times worse. This fic stars the original cast PLUS my original characters; Corvus Targaryen, adopted son of Viserys I and Aemma, good with the blade, though socially awkward fellow who only sets out to be a knight or if he gets his way, a maester (or alchemist, either one), and trying to keep the peace between the Blacks and the Greens, with Caecilia "Cecil" Targaryen Royce, daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce (after an aggressive and drunk consummation filled with scratches and bruises from both sides), who like her mother, absolutely despises her father (though this is not reciprocated by him), is out to help her cousin Rhaenyra keep her claim to block Otto's plans and spite her father, and lastly a down-on-her-luck ex-assassin woman who currently calls herself "Okkotsu", who through means unknown, becomes the paternal figure Aegon II Targaryen never realised he wanted, better than Viserys ever will be. There's also Sir Enigma Malvolio (Director of the Ruins of the Midnight Rise), Yan-Kain (second-in-command of Aggravor's Chapter of the Occult), and the Court King (main antagonist and pissed off people have forgotten about him). Note that this WIP is still under heavy construction, and things may or may not change. Below is a snippet of Rhaenyra convincing Corvus to join in on a fun time at a tourney... on a day where everything goes wrong:
Corvus eyed his sister with a reluctant frown, dimmed violet eyes looking into a vibrant purple. His hand remained anchored to the darkwood table, the vials and tubes and bags full of liquids and substances ready to be used as ingredients to sate the curiosity of a student of alchemy.
He gave glance to Rhaenyra's companion, hoping Alicent could save him from the young dragon rider's expectant gaze. However, the Hand's daughter stared back with polite brown eyes and a slim smile that refuted his silent plea to be saved, leaving him to make a futile attempt at fending for himself against his younger sister of all people, which he knew would conclude into an inevitable failure.
"Surely... surely you could do without my presence at the tourney?" Corvus spoke up, voice soft and uncertain, "I'm no fan of such events. I wouldn't want to bring down the mood. Perhaps... it would be best I remain here, where mother is? The maesters could require an extra pair of hands should she go into labor."
Rhaenyra seemed to think his words over, but her face hardened, determined. She grabbed hold of his arm, grip firm but slack, eyes widening as the candle light reflected off them, unfairly sparkling the purple rings. Lips formed into a soft smile, as she pleaded at him with her gaze.
"Please."
The older dark-haired boy's resolve wavered as his pale skin involuntarily flushing at the contact. He tried to avoid Rhaenyra's wide smile, her eyes and swore upon the Old and New Gods that he tried to ignore the gentleness plea of her voice. But his younger sister knew all the ways to get him to comply to her demands, and just as a dutiful if awkward older brother would, he'd follow her anywhere, just as Father and Mother tasked him with.
And once Baelon is born, I may even be able to convince them to allow me to become his personal guard, should I continue to knighthood that is.
Looking to Alicent once more, searching for her opinion, Rhaenyra's companion merely gave a small shrug and encouraging smile. Exhaling out a light sigh, he looked down to his white-haired sister and gave his response.
"Okay."
The word was simple, but it granted him an opportunity to see a triumphant grin from his little sister, her excitement genuine. Even when the years had been hard to swallow, especially with Mother's condition, he was glad his sister still hadn't lost her fiery spirit.
"C'mon now! We must bid goodbye to mother and join father at Keep's gates. We shouldn't keep him waiting," Rhaenyra exclaimed, pulling Corvus along behind her back towards the spiral staircase, as Alicent joined them with the shake of her head.
Both Rhaenyra's brother and companion briefly glanced at one another, incredulous gazes connecting as they are both, yet again, pulled along by Rhaenyra.
Corvus was nervous at the prospect of the vast eyes of Lords that would be watching their every move at the tourney. It made his stomach coil at the though of that much attention, with his sister's popularity and his own unpopularity.
Alicent must have noticed this, and stated aloud, "I think it will be quite a good day out. The skies are clear, and the sun warm. The tourney should be able to go on uninterrupted."
Rhaenyra piped up, adding, "I'd even say it will be fun. So no need for such gloom, dear brother."
Corvus simply nodded in reply, shoving away his nerves at they reached the top of the spiral. A visit to mother wouldn't be so bad, he thought.
And three OC interviews below:
Far Cry The Silver Chronicles (featuring in Silva's Hope and Ain't It A Joy?)
Name: Alexander Khaos
Nickname: Alexander doesn't like to use nicknames.
Gender: Male
Star Sign: Cancer
Moral Alignment/Personality: Lawful Neutral.
Height: Either 5'10 or 5'11
Sexual Orientation: Pansexual
Nationality/Ethnicity: British (with Asian descent)
Fave Fruit: Dragon fruit
Fave Season: Winter
Fave Flower: Peony
Fave Scent: Fresh morning air, burning wood.
Coffee, tea or HC: Black Coffee.
Average Hours of Sleep: 8 hours
Dog or Cat Person: Dog.
Dream Trip: Finland.
Favorite Fictional Character/Real Person: He'd say Jacob Seed, but it's actually Stan Lee.
Number of Blankets They Sleep With: None.
RANDOM FACT: Alexander picked up a Southern accent... it's still unknown why he chose to do this exactly.
The UnTitledverse
Name: Joaquin Cobalt
Nickname: Jackie.
Gender: Trans-Male
Star Sign: Leo
Moral Alignment/Personality: Neutral Good.
Height: Either 5'4 or 5'5.
Sexual Orientation: Ace.
Nationality/Ethnicity: Australian.
Fave Fruit: Oranges
Fave Season: Autumn
Fave Flower: Lily of the Valley
Fave Scent: Library books or Old Musuems
Coffee, tea or HC: Went from coffee to tea.
Average Hours of Sleep: 8 to 9 hours.
Dog or Cat Person: If he had to choose, a cat person, but he leans towards reptiles like turtles.
Dream Trip: America (and then he changes it to Germany).
Favorite Fictional Character/Real Person: Stephen King.
Number of Blankets They Sleep With: Three.
RANDOM FACT: Joaquin's name is pronounced "jack-a-win" because that's how a young Lisa insisted it was pronounced when she first saw the name. And well... it just stuck.
A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore
Name: Arcane Urias
Nickname: None.
Gender: Male
Star Sign: N/A
Moral Alignment/Personality: Either Neutral Evil or Chaotic Evil.
Height: 7'6
Sexual Orientation: N/A (due to being a Displacement (name for entities manifested from unnamed Dimensions), he has no known concept of sexuality. He does (and continues to try to) conceive offspring with anyone capable of getting pregnant only to use as powerful pawns for his evil deeds).
Nationality/Ethnicity: N/A (though he can take the human shape of anyone not just his main form)
Fave Fruit: Hates fruit.
Fave Season: Summer.
Fave Flower: A dead one.
Fave Scent: Ash.
Coffee, tea or HC: None.
Average Hours of Sleep: He will rest/meditate for an hour or two, only to conserve energy.
Dog or Cat Person: Bobbit Worm.
Dream Trip: He wouldn't mind Antarctica.
Favorite Fictional Character/Real Person: N/A
Number of Blankets They Sleep With: N/A
RANDOM FACT: There’s only been three individuals Urias has cared for in his entire existence; his brother Mathias “Mason” Talos, his student (a Lich named) Aggravor and lastly his hyper-fixation, Discord (aka the Mad God/Kin of Carnage). Urias has no love for his children (Ortega “Ore” Brantley and Marissa “Ress” Bishop) due to them having the “human element”.
#wip wednesday#oc interview#life despair & monsters#wip: the thorned crown of iron thrones#house of the dragon#oc: corvus targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen#alicent hightower#far cry the silver chronicles#far cry 5#we happy few#oc: alexander khaos#the untitledverse#oc: joaquin cobalt#series: a radioactive calamity of love bombs & gore#fallout#oc: arcane urias
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Diamond in the Rough Chapter 1
Chapter 1 : Ord Mantellian Nights
Warnings: None
Words: 2,079
Imagine a planet, in a galaxy far, far away. Where the Black Sun syndicate roams. Where you can meet every creature and tongue. It's chaotic, but, hey, it's home.
Ord Mantell is quiet tonight. Quantxi bathes the empty streets in a bright red glow. The Marauder cuts through the air, another successful mission under Clone Force 99’s belt.
Feel the winds from the East and the Bright Jewel in the West. Come on down, stop on by. Hop on a ship and go fly. To another Ord Mantellian night!
They soar over the sprawling palace where a Princess lounges on the balcony of her chambers. Her eyes wistfully watching the ship become smaller on the horizon until it disappears completely. She wonders what it would be like to fly away, exploring what’s beyond the mid-rim.
There's many paths that may lead you to light or to dark. Well, your destiny lies in your hands. Only one may enter her heart. One who's worth lies within, Our diamond in the rough.
Tech lands the Marauder in the landing bay. His golden brown eyes surveying his sleeping brothers and sister. Quietly, he initiates the lockdown protocols careful not to wake them. It’d be cruel to wake them after they worked so hard. Grabbing a spare blanket, He drapes it over Omega who is snuggled up on Hunter’s chest. Going over to the racks, he picks up Lula placing it back on Wreckers chest. Wrecker’s face relaxes, squeezing the tooka doll to his chest, rolling over to face the wall. Tech can hear soft snores from Echo’s bunk as he clambers up the metal ladder to his own bunk. As soon as his head hits the pillow, Tech is out like a light.
Ord Mantellian nights bleed into Ord Mantellian days. Always something to excite, take off and take flight. Where a fool off their guard, could fall and fall hard underneath the moon.
Back in the palace, the Princess settles into bed among a mountain of pillows. Her faithful loth cat companion sprawled out by her side. A gentle breeze caresses her skin, lulling her to sleep blissfully unaware of what the new day is about to bring.
————————————————————————
The mid morning sun beats down on your back, the red silk fan you’re using provides little relief from the heat. You smile and nod politely as yet another suitor drones on and on. If I have to hear how much treasure he has, I’m going to scream. It isn’t that the man in front of you is unattractive, Maker knows that he is everything that a girl dreams of when thinking of Prince Charming. He’s tall, broad shouldered with a thick mane of blonde hair. His green eyes glittering as he talks about all the things he has or better yet, all the things he can buy you with.
Raiah, your orange and striped loth cat, yawns in your lap purring softly. Out of the corner of your eye, your younger sister’s expression mirrors your completely bored one. You zone back into the conversation.
“When we are married, we shall spend our honeymoon at the Autumn Palace. Every heir of the dynasty has been conceived there and our children will be conceived there as well,” The Prince says eagerly.
Your sister snorts trying to stifle her laugh. You scoff, leaning back against your chair. He did not just say that. “‘When we’re married?’ I don’t recall saying yes to your proposal.”
“I, uh, asked your mother–” He glances over his shoulder to his advisor. His advisor, a stout balding older man, encourages him to keep talking.
“Do I look like my mother sir?” You fold your arms across your chest. Raiah rises on your lap, a low growl emanating from his throat toward the Prince. You scratch between his ears waiting for the Prince’s response.
“No but she is the one that will be making the decision. There was no point repeating myself to ask you.” He replies, shrugging his shoulders as if that explains everything.
Your sister doesn’t hold back her giggle anticipating the scathing remark building on the tip of your tongue. Raiah hisses, baring his teeth picking up on the anger rolling off you. “You arrogant pig. You must be delusional to think I would marry someone as ignorant and rude as you.”
The Prince pushes away from the table, his chair clattering to the floor. He slams his fists on the table making you and your sister jump. “I will give you this one chance to apologise to me.” His face beat red with unconcealed anger.
You smirk from your chair. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” You pout.
The Prince puffs out his chest a smug smile on his face. “That's better. Now–”
“I’m sorry that I had to waste my morning on the likes of someone like you.” You interrupt, a sweet smile painted on your face.
First, his face turns red then it turns a deep shade of purple. You swear you can see the steam coming out of his ears. He opens and shuts his mouth trying to formulate his anger. He jabs a finger in your direction about to unleash a torrent of curses. Raiah, annoyed that this man has the audacity to come into your personal space, chomps down on the Prince’s finger. The Prince yanks his hand back, yelping in pain. “You kriffing bitch!” He finally comes up with. He whimpers, cradling his hand to his chest running out of the reading room. His advisor, in an attempt to save face, gives a courteous nod to the two of you. He calls after his Prince.
“Buh-bye!” You wave. The two of you dissolve into giggles.
“What was that?” Your sister throws her head back. “Did you see how fast he went?”
“You’re such a good boy Raiah,” you snuggle your face against your cat’s fur. He purrs, kissing your face. “My good little attack kitty.” You feed him a much deserved treat. “If I had known he moved that fast, I would’ve pissed him off sooner. Ugh, can you believe that guy?”
“No! At least with your other suitors they weren’t so blatant about their disrespect,” She tucks her legs up under her pale orange skirts. “I can’t believe he tried to get in your face.”
“Good thing I have Raiah as my bodyguard,” you laugh.
“And he actually bit him! Oh my stars!” She laughs with you.
“What is the meaning of this?!” The Queen’s voice booms. Her burgundy skirts swish around her ankles as she strides in. You both immediately jump up from your seats bowing your heads, laughter dying on your lips. Raiah scampers under your skirts circling around your ankles.
“Mother.”
“Mother,” you meet her disappointed gaze.
“Can you explain to me why yet another suitor has stormed out of here cursing this family?” She puts her hands on her hips. Her eyes dark with a simmering fury. “Well?” She taps her foot on the black marble floors.
You square your shoulders, your own fury bubbling to the surface. “Maybe you can explain to me why you and the council keep choosing these men who only want a broodmare rather than a partner?” You raise your eyebrow.
Your sister gasps. She looks between the two of you watching the tense standoff.
“Y/N,” your mother takes a deep breath pinching the bridge of her nose. “I have been more than patient with you after your father’s death but it is time for you to do your duty.”
“You would rather marry me off to a stranger to strengthen your rule over my happiness? That’s very hypocritical of you.” You retort.
Your mother tightens her lips in a thin line. “For the good of this family, you will marry, so help me Maker, even if it is the next man to walk through that door.”
“My Queen,” Deonor, your mother’s royal advisor, enters the room. “Princess, Princess,” he nods to you and your sister. “The representative from Florrum has arrived as scheduled.”
“Very good,” She replies, her features sunny once again. To you, she gives you a pointed look. “We will continue this discussion later.”
“Looking forward to it,” you mutter sarcastically watching her leave. Raiah sticks his head out once the coast is clear. “I’m going out.” You say to your sister, grabbing your book. You exit the reading room, walking up the gold ornate grand staircase. Raiah is already waiting for you at the top.
“Y/N, you can’t. You know what Mama says,” your sister follows beside you. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Mom exaggerates,” you roll your eyes. “Besides, it's too nice of a day to stay cooped up in here. Cover for me will you?” You bite your bottom lip expectantly.
“I don’t know–” she bounces her leg, debating her options. “I just don’t want to get in trouble–”.
“You won’t! I’ll be back before anyone knows I’m gone. And if anyone asks, just tell them that I am absolutely spent from this morning’s ordeal.”
She sighs. “Fine but you owe me. Big time!”
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” You embrace her. “You’re the best!”
“Yeah yeah,” she waves you off.
You dash down the hall, giddiness in your step more than excited to have a few hours of freedom because Maker knows you won’t be going anywhere for a while. Grabbing your beige woollen cloak, you throw it over your turquoise sundress. You lift the large tapestry your father bought you before he died. A small twinge of sadness fills you. Stamping that down, you push the soft space in the wall revealing a hidden stairway ready to begin your adventure.
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The sun blazes above the bustling marketplace. It’s one of those rare days where there are no jobs leaving the Batch with a rare day off. Tech takes this opportunity to appraise his ship surveying the damage from the firefight with Imperial ships. He frowns, yet another power capacitor has bitten the dust.
“What’s the damage?” Echo pokes his head out from the ship.
“The better question would be what isn’t damaged.” He pulls out his holopad, typing up a list of parts. “We need parts if we hope to use the Marauder for any future jobs.”
“Are you going to the market?!” Omega appears seemingly out of nowhere. “Can I come?”
“Did you ask Hunter?” Echo asks her.
“Yup! He said to ask you.”
Echo shrugs. “Sure, as long as you help carry things.”
“I will!” She grins. “Can we go now? I want Mantell Mix!”
“Get me some too!” Wrecker yells from his rack.
Tech, Echo, and Omega set off into town, the list of supplies split between the two men. Wrecker, still recuperating from his blaster wound, stays behind with Hunter. The only one who can calm Wrecker enough to patch him up.
“It would be better for us to split up and cover more ground. That way, by my calculations, we can repair the ship by this evening.” Tech presses some buttons on his vambrace. “I sent you your list.”
“Got it,” Echo confirms. “Come on Omega.”
The pair of them set off, Omega skipping to keep up with Echo. Tech goes the opposite direction, determined to make this trip quick and efficient.
A few hundred credits later, Tech nearly has all his shopping complete. He doesn’t look up from his data pad, checking off all the parts that he has acquired thus far. He wonders how Echo and Omega are making out with their list. He hasn’t heard from them on the comms and nothing is crossed off on the shared document. He is in the process of typing up a message to Echo when something or rather someone collides with his shoulder.
“Excuse me,” you politely say, ducking your head walking past the man you just bumped into not giving him a second glance.
Tech, on the other hand, finds it odd how on such a hot day you’re wearing a heavy cloak. Something on the cobblestone glints in the sun. Bending down he picks up a tiny silver locket. He turns it over in his palm, your initials on the back. Looking up he searches the crowd hoping to catch a glimpse of you. He sighs in relief when he sees the particular shade of beige of your cloak further down the street. Pocketing your locket, he weaves through the crowd determined to return it to you.
Next Chapter
#star wars#star wars fanfiction#star wars the bad batch#bad batch fanfic#bad batch tech#tech x reader#tech x reader fic#aladdin#aladdin au#diamond in the rough
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pastime
Charlie has an interview with Tisch today.
It’s a whole thing. The invitation to interview came in at the last minute. Originally, Tisch wasn’t interested in Charlie. Then, somebody backed out of the incoming freshman class, and his name was next on the list of hopefuls. He’s not in yet, but as his mother assures him on the plane ride to New York, he’s bound to get in.
Except Charlie’s not so sure that he wants in.
Except he can’t admit that to anyone, much less his mother.
The professor interviewing him seems nice. He’s a tall guy, a little younger than Charlie expected, and he has stage presence. Charlie flinches. Stage presence. That’s always been the thing he lacks. That’s what kept him out of Tisch the first time.
At first, the interview goes well enough. The professor asks Charlie how he’s enjoyed high school.
It’s OK, Charlie says. But I’m really looking forward to college.
The professor says he was the same way when he was seventeen. He asks Charlie why he’s interested in attend the Tisch School of the Arts.
That’s easy, Charlie says, halfway to convince himself it’s true. I want to play my music in a place that can really hear it. Detroit’s great. Motown and all that. But New York … I think here, you can hear the songs the way they ought to sound.
The professor looks pretty pleased with that one. Charlie’s not sure if that’s good or bad. All he knows is that he might vomit. Maybe it would be better if he did. Kill all his chances to get into this school, this program. That way, he’d never have to fail out. He’d just never know.
“Tell me, Charlie,” the professor says. “Do you have a favorite pastime?”
Charlie breathes an easy sigh.
“That’s easy, too,” he says. “I like playing pop songs.”
“Like listening to the radio?”
“Well, yeah, but I kinda meant … learning how to play pop songs. Like on the piano. I’m really good at it. I can never find the sheet music, but I can make it work, just by ear. The other day, my brother and sister were really impressed with what I did to ‘Take on Me.’”
The professor doesn’t seem to like that one. Charlie feels even sicker.
“Sorry,” he says. “I know you probably don’t like pop music.”
“No, that’s not it,” the professor says. “I listen to the radio all the time. I find that the best musicians are the ones who keep up with what’s new. You never want to be the person who changes the dial just because they don’t know the song.”
Charlie nods. Those words sound familiar, and he pretends not to know where he might have heard something like that before.
“Then …?” he starts, but the professor cuts him off.
“When I asked you for your favorite pastime, I thought you’d tell me something like ‘going to the movies’ or ‘watching Dynasty on TV,’” the professor says. “I thought you’d say something other than what you do at the piano.”
“But I do everything at the piano,” Charlie says. “Even my math homework. You can ask my mom. The piano … all due respect, sir, but it’s everything.”
“It should be a lot if you’re applying to school here,” the professor says. “But should it be everything?”
Charlie stops. This is one of those interview questions you’re not supposed to answer.
A few minutes later, he stands up and shakes the professor’s hand. He knows this is the last time they’ll ever meet, even without a rejection letter in his grip. He’s pretty sure this is what he wants, anyway. New York would be too big of a move.
When he meets his mother back at the hotel, she asks him how the interview went. Charlie doesn’t know why, but the urge to lie takes him over and slips out of his mouth.
“I like my chances,” he says.
(part of @nosebleedclub june challenge -- day xvi! i’m still behind, but at least it’s not woeful this time)
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Another Afternoon in Liurnia
He had traveled without Ensha this time, and had gone in a different guise than the hallmark helmet he was known for. It would be too obvious and would draw far too much attention especially given where he was headed this day. The large turtle opened his eyes as the visitor in grey robes entered the ruins of the Church of Vows, looking about.
“Welcome, dear visitor. I am Miriel, steward of this sacred place. What guidance are you in need of?” The turtle turned his head toward the visitor. Gideon lowered the hood, squinting his eyes in the afternoon sunlight. He still wasn’t used to being out and about like this, beyond the walls of the Hold.
“Ah, I must thank you for sending your student to the Hold for instruction, it is an honor to do so.” Ofnir bowed his head toward Miriel. Miriel’s eyes lit up at mention of that before nodding briefly.
“Ah, Sir Gideon Ofnir, an honor to meet you in the flesh. I must admit, it was a surprise to hear one as busy as yourself show interest in such matters. Has the issue of ascendance to the throne been resolved then?” The turtle asked, voice hopeful. Gideon made a light frown and shook his head. Miriel remained cheerful regardless.
“I’m afraid not. I am here on a related business. You may be aware already of the title I go by, the All-Knowing, but I’m not here to boast to a holy man in his church. Even my hubris hasn’t degraded my sense to that level of debasement.” Gideon said, sitting on the ground to meet Miriel’s gaze easier. The turtle nodded, seemingly content to be engaging in conversation.
“That is good news indeed, Sir Ofnir. I am humbled to know someone remembers the holiness of this place and its value to the Order. Few stop by on matters beyond absolution, but do not think I disparage such things if that’s what brings you here yourself.” Miriel chuckled with himself at that. Gideon said nothing, it had been a serious consideration.
“I’m more interested in hearing of your... philosophy, you might say. Word along the grape vine is that you disparage the idea of heresy as a concept, that all things can be reconciled?” Ofnir asked, pulling the hood of his cloak up once more to keep the light of the sun and Erdtree out of his eyes. Miriel considered the question.
“I would not say it is a matter of philosophy but rather... an expression of kindness, that even that which may seem at odds can still be made to relate to something else. The joining of the Moon and Erdtree brought about a peace when there had been war, and even if the union of Rennala and Radagon did not last, that bond is still maintained to this day. You yourself make use of the Glintstone Sorceries of the Academy, even though you are an ally of the Erdtree, yes?” Miriel lowered his head, closing his eyes. He knew the question would give Gideon something to think on for some time.
Perhaps it was possible, when put that way, Gideon contemplated. There were some elements that would always oppose any and all attempts to bring the lands together. Mt. Gelmir and the Recusants came to mind immediately, though other elements would resist on history. The Omens and their scorn would not be easily forgotten or forgiven. Mohg was still out there, and so long as he had planned his own dynasty any change to the Throne would be opposed, but perhaps that was something they would have to face when that day came either way.
“Oh yes, you mentioned it briefly, but... absolution?” Gideon asked, motioning toward the basin. Miriel looked at Gideon, his ancient eyes peering into the All-Knowing’s. Gideon felt the weight of his heart in the back of his throat, not from a look of shame or scorn from the great turtle, but the kindness the creature’s gaze granted him. Miriel understood, not condone, but understood that Gideon had done wrong, hurt others. There was, for him, still hope. He motioned toward Gideon’s side, knowing what lie in the glass bottle he had brought with him.
“You know it, Sir Ofnir. I would not expect you to come here and be unaware of it. However, I will once more recite it. Anoint yourself with the Celestial Dew within the basin, and repent of your wrongs. The transgressions of your deeds will be remiss.” Miriel motioned toward the fountain at the end of the church.
Gideon said nothing but once more bowed his head toward the great turtle, standing there for a long, quiet moment. Finally he stepped over, lowering the hood of his cloak. He removed the bottle of celestial dew from his satchel and held it above his head.
“May the stars bear witness, to the misdeeds of a proud old fool.”
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Who’s that perch knocking manager? Cause it ain’t ten hag for sure. If we don’t make top 4 he’s so fucking finished here and you know that too.
Maybe, maybe not. I still think the squad needs to be completely turned over and Sir Jim seems to feel the same way. Look, people didn’t rate Sir Alex after three years and he royally proved them wrong. People didn’t rate Arteta after three years and he’s got finally got Arsenal running with two of the most dominant teams England’s seen in a long time. One day historians will look back on their performance numbers and go, “Wow, no wonder one else got near the title.” That’s how great they’ve been. These things take time.
Ten Hag took over a team that couldn’t even win the Europa League and qualified for the Champions League in his first season…that’s not the work of an average manager and definitely not a “fraud.” That would be Frank De Boer, and there’s something fundamentally wrong with anyone who thinks Ten Hag is on that level. The same way players need time to settle into a new league, managers do too.
They brought in Ten Hag to do a lot more than to just win quick trophies to appease restless fans. He’s here to help rebuild our youth system and promote young players into our first team like we used to, which saves us money in transfers. He could’ve heeded the warnings to stay away, but he seriously wants to dethrone them. Quick fixes with managers and players is partly why we’re in this mess. As I told the Arsenal fans: support him, support the project, and just be patient. Forget quick trophies, Chelsea plays for quick trophies. This is Manchester United, we build dynasties; the trophies will take care of themselves.
#tfd#anon#answered#manchester united#soccer#football#premier league#mufc#erik ten hag#sustainable team building
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NFL 2022 Mid Season Progress Report ___> Who Sucks, Who’s About to Blow the Fuck Up Out of Nowhere, WHO’S WINNING THE SUPERB OWL, WHO’S THE YOUNG BLACK DREW BREES, AND MUCH MORE CLICK RIGHT FUCKING HERE TO LEARN ABOUT IT WHATS WRONG WITH YOU??//-- ---->>>
(above: a legit MVP candidate)
So now that the NFL season is half over we can begin to make some assumptions about how it all plays out. Now that we have some observable patterns to go by. A “sample size” as they might call it in “muh paper on the wall academic circle jerk.” pssssh. Ain’t nothing academic about this. Below is the MOST IMPORTANT NFL ARTICLE OF 2022. Shout out to Dr. Z of SI.
OUTRAGED Academic Circle JERK Member: Excuse me, sir.... sir... can you substantiate your claims with any research or peer reviews? Any empirical evidence? What exactly are your so-called claims based on?
Me: Nothing. I made them all up. Fuck you!
*cue up the Fastest Three Minutes in Sports Chris Berman Circa 1998 ESPN EATING DINNER WITH YOUR FAMILY AT 6:45 PM ON A SUNDAY WITH THE TV ON music*
Elijah Moore Will BLOW THE FUCK UP
This is not a joke - this fucker is way too talented to be balling so weakly and I think that changes. Maybe not this week *checks schedule* AT NEW ENGLAND JESUS CHRIST! but soon. I think the Jets will be forced to play more pass heavy and check out their schedule coming up:
At Pats NO but then....
Home to Bears
At Vikings
At Bills
Home to Loins
Home to Jags
At Seahawks
At Dolphins
There’s lots of fantasy garbage goodness to be had for Moore and again, he’s way too talented not to be getting the ball now that Breece is RIP.
Who Sucks
The fuckin’ cornball Broncos and their “Buy my new footlong, it’s called the Danger-Wich” Subway shilling QB Russ Wilson WHO HAS BEEN EXPOSED AS A CARROLLBABY AND A METCALFBABY.
Others Receiving Votes include the Cardinals and their “high octane air raid offense that is 30th in the league or whatever the fuck” the Texans and the Panthers.
Bryce Young is the Black Drew Brees
He’s small, maybe too small, but he should absolutely be the #1 pick in next year’s NFL draft. He’s come up big in crunch time on multiple occasions and shown the “it” factor it takes to succeed in the NFL. The scary thing is that his stats should look even better, but he’s suffered a 8.1% drop rate from his receivers this year. His size could scare teams off in a talented quarterback class, but it’s about the only knock on his game.
Derrick Henry is the HNIC 4EAE
It’s becoming clear that Derrick Henry will probably follow Adrian Peterson’s lead as an elite running back who plays well past his expected 4-5 year elite shelf life. Henry is fantasy’s safest bet at RB YES EVEN IN DYNASTY MAYBE, has immense ceiling potential each week and will continue to destroy everything in his path for several more years. HE ALSO THROWS TOUCHDOWNS and is probably the greatest running back of all time. When Round 1 in ReDraft rolls around next year you can do much worse than Henry early and often.
Tee Higgins is a Very Strong Play This Week
That is all.
Who Wins The Superb Owl?
The NFL script at the moment is basically as follows - Brady gets into the playoffs in a weak division, defeats Dallas at home and then the Eagles on the road in a shocker. Then they play the Vikings in a night game for the NFC Title and Captain Kirk shits the bed. Something like that. Meanwhile the Chiefs and Bills are on a collision course but one of these teams gets upset by the Titans who then lose in the AFC Title Game to either the remaining Mahomes or Allen. Brady defeats either Mahomes (again) or Allen TO WIN THE OWL and then leaves Tampa to sign with the 49ers in the off-season.
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A Realm Reborn Part 2 [1/??]
Been a bit so uh.. here's some screenshots because I didn't actually..set this up right
So to start off - I never really spoke to the NPC's around the area before on my first play thru and they rEALLY hit this home later on in this part with Avere and Edda here. Not to mention Isildaure and Alianne here too!
Here we have Dolorous Bear and his party, asking if we have a goal and I'm trying to think of what mintha's would've been at this point in her journey. Did she have one aside from "Just live.. make sure you're far enough away from your past as possible..." ?
Here we're back at Gridania for Tam-tara! I'm enjoying the little bits of info they're dropping here about Tam-tara and the surrounding areas of the shroud, I wonder if they'll say more of it later..
Reminding myself to actually READ the jorunal as I go through it as they put a lot of detail into the game in here.. and here we have the result of a tank rushing ahead w/o their healer. I still feel awful for Edda..
HEEEY WE GOT A LITTLE BITE OF THORNE DYNASTY LORE LET'S GO! Gods, they still don't know about Traders Spurn, do they?
Okay first thing. I WAS ACTUALLY DEVASTATED TO FIND OUT DOLOROUS BEAR AND HIS GROUP DIED. More so in such a gruesome way. Like that is an awful way to go.. and Isildaure being able to sense the crystals blessing maybe? Sir? Are you too a warrior of light?
Okay 1. FUCK THIS GUY. Two; Yda you are not hiding very well I can see you. Also i feel like some of these camera angles weren't really suited for max height toll characters. My ears :(
EDDA BABY PLEASE, YOU DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER. I know you're a healer but sweetie, please. Girl. I wish I could've saved you from the hand you were dealt, you didn't deserve it.
i ran out of pic space.
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Wonder if Essek has yet processed the level of heresy he just put in his pocket.
#cr spoilers#essek thelyss#like sir do NOT go back to the dynasty with that thing#jesus christ#even if it is tied to some kind of entity still#and I know it's been like two minutes but jesus christ#sir#icw for him to go awol :)))
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I know I already sent u a prompt idea but it just hit me that once Essek goes into hiding, him and Caleb could end up easily having a conversation about their experiences, what they missed until they didn’t have it, or techniques, how similar/different their circumstances were, etc. There’s lots of potential (heh) for angst or comedy or both :)
Anyways, do what you will with this info ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ
This is a really lovely prompt and I think I took it in a bit of a different direction than you were thinking, but I hope you still like it!
My partner got back last year from studying in another province for 3 years so for nearly half the time we've been together we've been apart so this is a little about that. Please enjoy!
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As Essek teleports in, he nearly crumples where he stands from sheer relief. The only thing keeping him from doing so is a fluffy black cat who’s immediately begun curling around his ankles. He lifts the offending creature and stares directly into mischievous green eyes, “Now sir, I understand you are excited to see me. I am glad to see you in good health Ernst but I must insist you allow me to walk unimpeded. Otherwise we’ll have an incident on our hands and you know how long that paperwork takes.” Ernst, who knows nothing of bureaucracy, blinks lazily back.
“It has to be done in triplicate Ernst! I think we’d both rather avoid that headache.” There’s a soft laugh from the doorway as he sets the cat on the ground and he scampers off to bother a sibling.
“I don’t know what you’re laughing at dearest, that’s at least two hours of writing for something that isn’t difficult to avoid in the first place.”
“I know Schatz, I just missed you.” Caleb’s eyes crinkle and they quickly close the distance between them to fade into an embrace.
Pulling back, Essek can’t keep the smile from his face, “I missed you too. I missed this.” The house smells of bread and a light soup, Caleb smells of incense and firewood and he buries his face in his husband’s neck.
“You’ve been gone a long time, why don’t we eat? Tell me about your travels.”
Some time later, after he’s gone through the series of failed leads that had led to his eventual success in locating another beacon, untouched and unknown by the Dynasty, he lands on what’s really bothering him. “It’s much different than I expected, being in hiding that is.”
“Ja, I know that feeling well. The first few years, before I met Veth, it was very solitary.”
Essek nods, “It’s so strange, to be reading and to have a thought I can’t voice to you immediately. I had gotten so used to this, something I never thought I’d have, and now I find myself talking to empty rooms more often than not.”
Caleb nods, “Ja, sometimes when there was a knock at the door something in me would try to find a rational way for you to be on the other side of it. I remember that loneliness too, I would go weeks without using my voice in the warmer months, sleeping on the outskirts of cities and towns scrounging by on stolen food.”
An old bruise on Essek’s heart squeezes. They’ve told each other everything over the years, he doesn’t think there’s an aspect of his own long life that he hasn’t gone over with Caleb. In turn Caleb has gifted his story to Essek in chunks, as it had been bearable to talk about it. Every wound and scar, every silver lining and bright spot amidst so much darkness.
Caleb never deserved any of that. “I would almost prefer I didn’t have to use my voice. I cannot for the life of me keep names consistent with disguises. I had given out three variations on the same name in one city and had to leave when I saw two people I’d spoken with conversing.”
He earns a laugh with that, hearty and low in the chest. It’s his favourite sound, he’s missed that too. “Yes Mr. Lord Lord from around, we all know how you are with your personas. At least you have the benefit of disguise magic.”
He joins in the laughter then. Thinks back to a memory that is still accompanied by a dull ache, but that he can now look back on with a twinge of fondness. That version of him had been so lost, so sorely in need of guidance. He’d gotten what he needed, he is working towards better now, he’s taken care of his younger self and that feels good in a way.
“There are so many things I didn’t know to be thankful for. Even something as simple as walls and a roof to contain heat, or the padding of the cats’ feet.” He hears a cup rattle to the ground, “Hanz, if that’s broken it will come out of your paycheque.” he calls into the next room as a tortoiseshell cat bolts away from the scene of the crime.
Caleb just laughs again and Essek savours the melody. He’s missed the glow of the amber lights that float around the dinner table, the stacks of notes or stray books that litter every available counter surface, Caleb.
His wizard reaches across to take his hand, “I am glad you’re back Schatz. Now don’t think I haven’t noticed the limp you’re walking with. Let me take a look before we retire.”
He rolls his eyes, but the truth is he’s quite injured. “Fine.” he huffs and Caleb laughs at his put on annoyance. “It was dire wolves. They caught me off guard.” His eyebrows knot and he leaves to get warm water, soaps, and cloths.
“Schatz this is a deep bite, perhaps I should notify Jester?”
He shakes his head, “We went through all of Aeor without them, I will be fine.”
Hissing at the warm water poured over puncture wounds, Caleb starts talking again to distract him. “One of the things I used to miss was my name. I think this one suits me now, but that’s because people know Caleb. For a long time nobody knew me by a name and those who knew Bren were a danger to me. It’s strange to lose something as arbitrary and as important as a name.”
Essek nods, “My name was power in my corner for a very long time. Now it is just a bitter reminder in some ways. But I like how it sounds when you say it so I will keep it.”
Caleb smiles down at him, pressing a blessed kiss to his forehead and continues to wash and wrap his wound. “I missed you Caleb.”
“I missed you too Essek.”
“I will have to leave again one day.”
“I know Schatz, I will be here when you get back.”
“I will always come back.”
His wound is wrapped, their bed is warm. Before falling into his trance he curls back into Caleb’s chest and thinks that it will be a while before he can bear to leave again now that he has someone to miss.
#shadowgast#caleb widogast#essek thelyss#critical role#the mighty nein#cr2#cr fanfic#fanfic#fan fiction#critical role fanfiction#critfic#my writing#omni writes#omni answers#tm9#Also a lot of things about me and my partner remind me of Essek and Caleb#both academics#he's way smarter than me tho#i'm going to be a teacher#he's going to be a researcher/professor#just something about their dynamic makes me think of me and my partner idk#i'm projecting onto fictional characters again#who could have guessed
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ghost of a kiss.
muses. duke’s son!yoongi x marquis’ daughter!reader x crown prince!namjoon / professor!yoongi x student!reader x detective!namjoon
genre. historical au. reincarnation au. modern au.
words. 5.3k
note. nobody come at me for the header pls. or as bretman used to say, like fuck i’m tryin i’ve only been doin this for 2 hours 😭
x
There weren’t that many things Yoongi wouldn’t do if his father so wills it. Perhaps it was the Min blood coursing through his veins that made him so apathetic to human emotions.
You want to laugh.
You also want to cry, scream and throw the closest thing you have which is your fan at Yoongi’s ever emotionless expression. Just like a blank canvas painted with invisible ink, Yoongi never shows his feelings. Never spoke his mind.
Well, not around you at least.
It was as if you were just a pretty little doll for him to play with –no, he doesn’t even pay you any mind. He just sat there, sipping on the cherry blossom tea that the maid poured into his cup and gave one worded answers to the questions you asked after your endless chatter came to, well, an end.
After that, he put up with you a little bit longer when you insisted you’d wanted to escort him out of the garden and to the front of the mansion where his carriage awaited.
“Until we meet again, my lady,” he would bow but you would hold out your hand for him to place a ghost of a kiss on like lovers would.
It was always you who were asking for too much.
Always you who were a slave for his affection.
But instead of doing all of those things you dreamed of doing when you meet him again –and meet him, you do– you end up running past the grandeur doors of the ballroom, down the red carpet splayed hallway and into the gardens where red roses glimmer with dew drops underneath the moon rays.
What a heartbreakingly beautiful set up for a damsel with a broken heart.
“My lady,” it hasn’t even been five minutes when you hear that stone cold voice of Yoongi.
“Why couldn’t you just pretend you didn’t see me running like a scared, defenseless mouse after we met. After all, you’ve always been good at that –pretending like I don’t exist.” You wanted to laugh and laugh, you did. It sounds withered, unlike the full blooms of floral that surrounds you two.
“As your fiance, I have a duty to–”
“Duty.” You spit out the word like it’s poison, “was visiting me every fortnight for tea a duty of yours too?”
The corners of your eyes are red from roughly rubbing the traces of tears that threatens to fall on your cheeks and ruin your makeup.
You take a deep breath before turning to him, pushing down a silent sniffle.
“As you may have heard from your father, Duke Min, you’re relieved from that cumbersome duty,” you hold your chin high.
As you should.
Yoongi Min stares at you a moment longer than he usually would. Is it the hair? Your hair’s grown since he last saw you.
Or perhaps the bodice that wraps around you and enhances your curves and bosoms.
‘Perhaps’, you somberly admits, ‘he simply forgot how I looked after four years.’
“As you should have heard from the Marquis,” Yoongi presses, “I refuse to break the engagement.”
“Wha–” the word slips past your lips before you even register it.
“It can’t be undone, his Majesty already approves of the annulment,” you know you’re repeating words your father and brother uttered. Like a hopeful little mouse in the face of a black panther.
“Only with the Majesty’s approval can you request to break the engagement but it’s up to the Min’s if we wish to grant your request –I reject it.” Yoongi stands only a few feet away from you, his eyes appearing darker than black, shadowed by the moonlight.
When he steps forward and out of the shadow, you find yourself forgetting how to breathe. Like a beast in the night, he ambles his way to you elegantly and swiftly.
Before you know it, Yoongi is standing in front of you. And you, a captor beneath those haunting, onyx, splendor. His gloved fingers twirl a strand of your hair around them before he brings the golden locks to his lips.
“I loved you blindly, Sir Min,” you send your gratitude to the gods and goddesses for the stillness in your voice, “I longed for you like a sailor long to sail the seven seas but do you know what’s so wretched about this sort of longing? Only a lucky few manage to love without drowning.”
Your slender fingers curl around his wrist. Even then, you couldn’t close your fist around it –your hand is too small and delicate compared to his. And at times like these, you’re reminded of how woman you are and how man, he is.
“Release me,” the air feels cold against your now damp cheek but your heart is icier, “once and for all. At the very least, I’ll be able to marry a humble Count who’ll receive part of my inheritance once my father dies.”
The scoff that leaves the man’s lips sends shivers down your spine.
“A humble count,” his eyes gleam with mockery, as if he finds your words ironic, “did the Crown Prince of the Isira Dynasty not propose to you? Did you not come back for the sole purpose to tell me you’re abandoning me?”
You suspected the rumors of your getting closer to the Crown Prince, Namjoon, would spread over the continent.
“If you know, then let me go.” You say steely.
It’s the rawness in your tear-stained eyes that steals Yoongi’s breath away. The night breeze that blows past him almost sends him tumbling down like waves crashing against the shore.
“[Name],” he speaks your name for the first time in a long time, the syllables rolling off his tongue like sweet honey, “I’m not a man of many words. I don’t know how to–”
“You didn’t know how to kill either but you got better at it with practice!” Your throat feels as if it’s being grazed by sandpaper.
Your heart, on fire.
It’s the first time you’ve shown a different emotion than that heartwarming smile that looks like you’re meant for spring and blooming flowers. In that blissful moment, you look like one of the crimson roses that bear witness to you and Yoongi’s altercations.
“That’s right, I know what you do,” you nod, gaze burning with acid tears, “all those months spent waiting for you to come back from those expeditions. Monsters weren’t the only thing you slayed, were they?”
“No,” Yoongi breathes out and for some reason, his chest feels like it’s going to cave in and crush his heart.
The sensation is alien to him. Hell, he didn’t know he had a heart to begin with. It was just an organ that kept his blood pumping –he’d gladly tore it out and gave it to his dearest fiancée if she so much asked for it.
But now – now – she’s saying she wants no part of it.
The realization comes to him like poisonous smoke. Spreading around the hollowed part of his chest and seeps into that beating organ of his. Before he knows it, you’re already slipping out of his grasp.
“I’ll break off the engagement,” he finally says, his brain not registering the words that left his mouth, “for a kiss.”
But his heart knows what he wants.
You look at him like he’s crazy, eyes going round and glossed lips parting in a silent gasp. But when he makes no attempt to correct his words, realization gradually settles in.
“Make it quick.”
Long lashes flutter shut, lips pressed in a straight, unwilling line. The hand that clasps around his wrist falls to your side. Your shoulders are tense. You look like you’d rather be with those chimeras Jeongguk’s breeding than here.
Yoongi takes another step toward you.
Your eyebrows knit together when his gloved knuckles caress your cheekbone. The sharp inhale of breath you take as you brace herself doesn’t go past him. A rose, even in the face of the hands that threatens to pluck it, remains fierce and grounded.
The wait feels endless. As if time passes agonizingly slow yet the only indication that time hasn’t halted altogether is the way your heart keeps palpitating inside your chest as though it’s about to explode any second.
Then you feel them –a pair of softest, ghostly, lips on your forehead. As opposed to the hand kisses he left you, this one lingers with a sort of yearning. And even then, it feels short-lived.
As though you will never have enough of Yoongi Min.
“My lady, you look disappointed, if you wanted me to kiss you elsewhere, you should’ve said so.” There’s a mirth in his tone. And for a moment, you feel warm, like the warmth of the sun hugging you.
“What if I did?”
You want to ask but you decide against it. Thrusting your chin up like the noblest of women would, you remind him of the deal, “I’ll send someone to retrieve the annulment papers in a week’s time. I assume it will bear your signature, sir.”
With that, you walk past him, your laced hand brushing against his gloved one but even on the verge of goodbyes, Yoongi Min doesn’t let you walk out of it that easily. His pinky finger hooks around yours like a rusted, weak chain. Unsure whether to keep holding on or letting go.
Yet your feet stop dead in their tracks. Your heart races. Deep down, you know you want him to hold onto you like you held onto him for ten, pitiful years.
“Have a good evening, my lady,” is all he says, his hand falling away and he begins strutting to the opposite direction you’re heading even though there’s nothing in that direction besides a maze made of rose beds.
But you don’t plan to ponder too much on it. Namjoon, the Crown Prince, is waiting for you back in Isira where you’ll build a new home. A new life. And with a loving husband.
Or so you thought.
x
That was a lifetime ago. To say you opened your eyes to a twenty-one year old body in a world plagued by motor engine propelled and electronic devices –would be a lie.
This body is yours.
This life is yours.
You remember your first step, first successful ride on the bike after your father took off the supporting wheels, your first fall and the rest of your firsts, seconds, thirds and so on. And as such, you remember your first time meeting Min Yoongi.
At the age of twenty-one and him, twenty-six, his emotions are hard to pinpoint.
He isn’t much different in this lifetime.
His hair is a shade of rich brown that could easily pass as black if he’s not walking underneath the sunlight. He’s taller than the twenty-two year old boy you last saw before your carriage crashed into the ditch –that was the last thing you remembered from your last life.
No, you didn’t die. But the rest of your life past that point was blurry.
And here he comes, all in his dark colored vest over a white undershirt and black trousers. Professor Min Yoongi is nothing short of perfection.
“[Name], do you have a minute?” He approaches you like a panther; soundless and undetectable.
Before you know it, he’s five feet away from you and if you were to make a quick u-turn, it would be too obvious.
“I’m afraid not professor, I’m sorry, should I email you at a later time so we can discuss matters of my assistantship?” You put on your best smile and he lifts a dubious brow that screams that he sees right through your lie.
Yet he doesn’t press on.
Instead, he offers another alternative –though completely disregarding the last bit about the email, “right, then meet me after class.”
“I-I’m afraid I can’t do that either professor, I have to rush to Cyber, right after–!” You almost choke on your words.
“I’ll talk to Professor Park about that,” he says simply and taps you on your shoulder like any good-natured professor would with his top-performing student.
It just so happens that you’re extremely good at the class he teaches, which, ironically, is Neurocriminology.
x
“Professor Min?” You knock on the intimidating wooden door and hear a curt ‘come in’ from the other side before pushing the door open.
Behind his desk, Yoongi looks up at you through his long lashes and straight into the windows of your soul.
Even in your second life, his piercing stare affects you.
But you tell yourself that it’s because he’s just devilishly handsome and you’re humbly a woman.
That, and he and Professor Park Jimin are the youngest professors in the department.
“Those assignments over there need sorting.” Yoongi points to the pile of papers in a box perched on the coffee table as though waiting for you to arrive.
“Yes, professor,” you breathe through your mouth and swallow back the words of accusation that threaten to fall past your lips.
You did volunteer to be a student assistant but you never thought, in a million years, that the man who resembled your fiancé in the past… Well, on paper at least. You never thought he would pick you as his supervisee.
The room is silent save for the rustling sound of papers fluttering as you shift through each assignment and place them alphabetical orders of the name. Every once in a while, you can’t help but steal glances at the man seated behind the desk. With his hair slicked back and the cuffs of his wrist rolled up to his elbow, he looks like every girl’s modern day prince charming.
“Why are you so keen on running away from me?” His husked tone cuts through the silence.
“Pardon, professor?” You blink, not catching the meaning of his words until a moment later.
Your cheeks heat up under his piercing gaze, the recollection of the occasions you fast-walked to lose him in the hallways burning in the back of your mind.
“I-it seems I always have places to be… classes to attend, I’ll make sure to meet you every morning to confirm my tasks, professor,” you can’t just confess that he has a face and name of the man you once loved in your past life.
If you so much spoke of your remembering you’d be sent to the asylum.
A ghost of a smile tugs on the corners of his lips but it was gone as soon as it came. You’re not sure if you’re just seeing things.
“Very well, send me the location of your apartment so I can pick you up tomorrow,” he doesn’t look up from the screen of his Mac when he says that.
“P-professor?” You blink, disbelief coloring your complexion.
“You said you’d meet me every morning, yes? I always have my breakfast at 7:30 AM at The Curve, we can discuss matters of your tasks over breakfast.” He goes on like it’s just another day of him assigning you a task to complete.
x
The next morning, you sit with your back straight, staring at the pancakes Yoongi ordered for you. The sweater he wears over his vest makes him seem more relaxed than his usual vest and tie look. His long lashes almost brush the top of his cheek as he casts his gaze down at the leaf shaped latte he’s drinking.
“Professor, I double checked with the administration office and they gave me a list of things I have to do to complete my assistantship. From the tasks you’d given me, I checked off at least three of the requirements,” you take out an azure blue notebook where you flip to a page that has a piece of paper and slides it across the table.
“You came prepared,” he muses, an amused smile playing on his lips and your little heart does its little flips.
“I take it you’re writing a paper on neuroscience and human behavior –if there’s anything, I can help you with, please let me know,” you return his smile with a schooled one –the kind that you use when you’re dealing with strangers.
“Sure,” the professor nods, “I could use some help researching neurodivergence.”
The conversation flows smoothly. The worries you harbored for the whole of your university life now dissipated. You were at your most comfortable when it comes to academia. Your passion lies in your interest in criminology and the one man who you could engage in an intellectual conversation is none other than the man whom you tried so hard to avoid.
At some point, you think your worries, silly. Just because they share the same face and name, doesn’t mean they share the same memory. For all you knew, you could be the one in a million who remembers your past life.
That is, until Yoongi asks, “were you happy?”
He uses the word ‘were’ to refer to the past. It takes you a moment to register that he didn’t mean your childhood nor adolescent years.
And when you finally put two and two together, you can almost hear your heart drop. You thought you’d be sweating bullets and heaving for air from the tangible pressure this conversation brings.
But before you could say anything, Yoongi speaks again, “I won’t push for an answer, I know where that led me before.”
He casts his gaze down, long, nimble fingers picking up the cup of latte and making the regular sized cup seem miniature in his hand.
x
It’s a few days later, as you accompany him to another university to meet with a fellow specialist, that you finally say, “you never pushed me.”
Stirring the cup of black coffee, sitting at one of the round, two-persons tables in the cafe of the Sociology Department, you go on, “in fact, you never asked for anything at all. I was always the one asking for too much, giving just as much.”
‘I loved you too intensely and I burned too bright.’ These are the words you never dare say.
Loved.
Because you don’t love Min Yoongi anymore.
Perhaps, that’s why you’re unusually calm.
“I can’t remember everything –only bits and pieces. That night,” you swallow –you don’t need to steal a glance at him to know he’s thinking of the same night; the night you said your goodbyes, “after the carriage crashed, I remembered seeing shadows clash against one another. Namjoon’s men went against the assassins who came for me because I was the rumored Crown Prince’s soon-to-be fiancée. I had to go into hiding after he was demoted to a mere prince because of his brothers’ schemes… at some point, I remember starving because we had nothing to eat.”
A new identity was all Namjoon could offer for his beloved. He spoke of claiming back the throne that was rightfully his yet his supporters scattered all over the continents after the siege. Their spirit waned overtime. He came for you after the shadows saved you but you both lived in poverty until one shriveled up like a dead flower and the other went mad for the crown that was once his.
The way his fists clench with remorseful anger doesn’t go past you, it’s almost as though you can hear him blaming himself for your choices.
You smile wistfully, “but yes, I remember being happy,” the smile tugs into a straight line as you face him with conviction, “would I give everything up for that sliver of happiness again? No,” you shake your head, “now I just want money.”
Yoongi laughs. Like truly laughs out loud with his shoulderline shaking and hand on his stomach. The sound lacks the menace that you remembered him to wear around him like a cloak.
All of a sudden, the air seems to change. The tension you once felt, now dissipated into thin air. A familiar warmth creeps up your neck but you mask it with indifference.
You can’t afford to fall for him all over again.
Not when you’ve had a lifetime to mull over and decide these feelings would die with you –get buried with you.
“What happened after your sister ruined the dukedom?” It’s when you both got to this point of the conversation that you felt your heart writhe inside your chest.
As if physically hurting for the fate that befell Yoongi –at this point, it was just an assumption, but you were sure that–
“Aera tracked us one by one until she killed every single Min,” he says simply, as if talking about a cherished sister who up and left home with the family’s savings a few hundred years ago, “she was the best of us. She knew people like us couldn’t be left alone to live a quiet life.”
In the lulled silence, you notice the festering remorse that dances in his eyes.
He clasps his palm over his mouth as he stares out of the window, “of course, things are different now. We’re not allowed to kill.”
At that, you almost spat out the coffee you’re downing. You couldn’t believe your ears.
“It was illegal to kill then, you and your family did it anyway because you were just so– so… messed up!” You explode partly, voice lowered as you lean over the table, cautious of anyone nearby who might hear you.
“Aren’t you glad neurocriminology gives justification to murderers, well, murdering nowadays?” He smirks, one corner of his lip tugging upwards.
You find yourself breathing in sharply as your heart skips a beat at the sight of Min Yoongi’s dark humor.
The Yoongi in your past life would never be able to even understand a joke –you were sure.
But now it’s you who doesn’t appreciate the humor.
“Is that why you became a professor?” It’s apparent in the way your brows knit together.
“Rather, paired with my previous… knowledge, it’s an easier way to get a PhD and a stable earning,” the shrug makes him appear boyish –younger than he is.
For some reason, he was several years older than you in this lifetime compared to the last.
“Apparently mine deems that I marry rich,” you remark playfully.
“Then, shall we get married? I missed my chance in my previous lifetime and I’m kind of well off in this lifetime,” it’s the easy suggestion of marriage that makes you almost choke on the pancake you just directed into your mouth.
“Professor, there’s just something you don’t joke about,” you say after gaining a semblance of your composure yet your heartbeat drums in your ears and your cheeks feel as though they’re on fire.
Why are you so happy to hear that Min Yoongi, your former fiancé and beloved, entertained the idea of marriage with you even in this lifetime?
x
“Your sisters... do they remember?” Yoongi asks one fine evening as you’re surfing the internet to research the needed materials he tasked you with.
“How did you know I have sisters?” You blink, surprised.
Yoongi had to mask the involuntary smile that tugs on the corners of his lips when he sees how lovely and adorable of a face you’re making.
“You mentioned them before,” he states, “even if you didn’t, I’d suspect as much since I was born with the same siblings from the previous lifetime –for now, it’s me, Aera and Hoseok, who knows where my dad hid the rest of his children and mistresses.”
“They don’t remember, I tried asking when I first started remembering –was it at the age of eight? They looked at me like a devil just possessed their little sister,” you sigh softly, “it’s better this way. Life isn’t all that easy for them either in the past.”
The cherry blossom tree standing tall and proud one the edge of the field is positioned so that anyone who stood in front of his window would get a full view of raining, pink petals.
“Why do you think we remember?” You ask, staring at the petal that fluttered into the room and found itself atop Yoongi’s deep brown lock.
“I’d say fate’s giving us a second chance but you’d laugh at me,” he plainly says, flipping a page of the journal he’s reading.
And laugh at him, you do, “professor, I didn’t take you for a hopeless romantic!”
x
“We both changed, you and I,” you told him over dinner at le Saumon de Bord du Lac.
The piano playing in the background and the dim lighting gives off an atmosphere of a romantic evening. The waiter even thought you were a couple and offered a couple’s discount.
Yoongi being Yoongi, accepted it right away and called you his ‘darling’. Your cheeks burn up for a good fifteen minutes until the wine comes and you finish the whole glass in a few gulps.
“No shit, Sherlock,” he agrees wholeheartedly without even looking up from the menu, “for one, I’m not some apathetic maniac who goes around wielding spears.”
“No, you’re my professor and I’m your student, we should never be caught dead having dinner together,” you shoot him a rebellious grin to which he nods.
“Touche,” he acknowledges.
x
A week later, you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw a blonde haired, hazel eyed man approaching you and Yoongi. You’d stepped behind Yoongi’s broad shoulders, the man almost didn’t notice you at all.
He’s supposed to give a talk on neurocriminology –a guest of Yoongi’s.
“Are you okay?” He asks after you’re back in his office, he pulls you away from the spotlight when he notices your forced mechanical smile and fingers tugging at your sleeves.
“I know, right? Why did I get so weird like that?” You laugh to yourself, as though engulfed in your own world.
It doesn’t take a genius to – or perhaps, Min Yoongi was that, so that’s why he successfully – put two and two together and figured out that his esteemed guest is the reincarnation of Namjoon.
The blond didn’t seem to recognize you though.
But that didn’t stop him from taking an interest in you.
“[Name]... that student of yours, is she single?” Namjoon asked when they were out for dinner with the other professors but before Yoongi could even respond, the blond was already laughing it off, “nevermind, forget what I said. You wouldn’t happen to know anyway.”
“Don’t go around flirting with my students, they need to focus on getting a degree first before anything else,” Yoongi jokingly warned.
Something in his stomach twists and turns, as if a snake was slithering around his intestines, spreading its venom all over him.
But that did nothing to stop you and Namjoon from exchanging numbers and going out to brunches and dinners like he did with you. You keep on tugging on her sleeve and pushing your hair to the back of her ear when you spoke to Namjoon at the next talk he was invited to.
Much to Yoongi’s surprise, despite your obvious discomfort, you’re the one who suggested inviting Namjoonfor the new semester and handled all the matters pertaining to the talk.
x
“I don’t want to push you because if I do, you’d drift farther away from me and if I pull, you’ll recoil and take ten steps back –there’s no right way,” Min Yoongi has you trapped between the door and his body one afternoon. Particularly, after he saw the name Joonie flash across your screen as your phone vibrates.
You excused yourself to answer the call but just as your hand touched the door handle, his hand rested on top of yours, stopping you from walking out of his office.
“Wh-what are you saying, professor?” You stammer, the now still phone held in front of your chest.
He thinks he sees the tip of your ear turn red but it could be because of the fading winter air.
It was always uncomfortable to watch you and Namjoon interact but Yoongi attributed it to the fact that one remembered the times they spent together in their past life and the other having absolutely no idea yet still falling for your charms either way.
He twirls a strand of your hair around his index finger before he kisses it, “he may have your heart but I’ve loved you first –I’ve always loved you first.”
“P-professor-!” You exclaim, heels turning and so does your body.
No doubt, your sole purpose of turning around to face him is to caution him of his bold declaration –you were like an open book that Yoongi could just pick up and flip the pages to. You’d always been readable, even back then. Perhaps, that was why it felt like a hand clawed through his chest and wraps its talons around his heart each time you put up walls and turn away his subtle advances.
Because he knows winter has long settled in the hollowed part of your chest.
But because of how he was leaning down to kiss your hair, you end up face to face with only inches apart. There’s no mistaking the blush that spreads across your face, washing away the initial surprise of finding yourself so close to him.
“Call me Yoongi,” he implores with that deep, husky voice of his.
It’s the way he looks at you. Like he’s frightened beyond belief that you’d do exactly what he thought you would; take ten steps back –that makes your heart thump unceremoniously in your chest.
“Y-yoongi… we shouldn’t…” you murmur weakly, eyes tracing his soft lips before snapping up to meet his gaze.
“May I kiss you?” He knows he should let you go to answer the call –what you do and who you see in this lifetime is none of his business.
And yet, he can’t bear the thought of you walking away from him in this lifetime. Not when there’s the second chance he made a pact with the devil for.
Fate and the devil, what difference are there if they meant to serve one purpose?
You nod.
And all of a sudden, he’s back where it all ended. In that garden where roses bore witness to their tragic love affair.
He leans in and presses his lips on your forehead ever so gently –it feels as though if he puts any more pressure, you’d break like you’re made of glass.
“Kiss me for real –if you kiss me on the forehead, it feels like you’re saying goodbye,” your eyes flutter open and your brows join together in protest, he feels you tug on his shirt impatiently.
The softest of smiles graces Yoongi’s lips and you think your heart is going to explode into millions of pieces. Is it not enough that he’s the reason you almost forgot to breathe?
“Wasn’t it you who was itching to run away from me?” He teases, pinching your cheek and just like his hand kisses –you still feel them ghost over the back of your hand every once in a while– his touches are feather light.
“Only because you were an emotionally constipated idiot.” You argue back, lips puckered in protest.
“Then, if I may… my lady…” he trails off, index finger curled under her chin, tilting you face up.
“You may,” you giggle against his lips, arms tracing up the planes of his abs to his chest and find home around his neck as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss.
x
(“I was only putting up with Namjoon because he’s the head of the criminology department in Incheon –I was thinking of applying for a job there after graduating.” You confess some time later once you’re at le Saumon de Bord du Lac.
“Huh,” Dion blinks, not expecting that.
“Did you think I was going to date him in this lifetime?” You giggle as if you already know the answer, “true, he’s still as handsome as ever, but we did go broke and… I never truly loved him.”
You cast her gaze down, cheeks burning with warmth, shyness overcoming you all of a sudden. If he could, Yoongi would gather her in his arms and embrace her like he’ll never let go.
But he settles with a reach of his hand on top of yours on the table, thumb caressing the spot just below the knuckle of your fourth finger.
“In this lifetime… definitely.”)
x
note. this was shared on a discord server and posted on wattpad under a different pseudonym!
#bts fic#bts fanfic#yoongi fic#yoongi fanfic#bts scenarios#yoongi scenarios#yoongi smut#bts smut#bts fanfiction#yoongi fanfiction#yoongi fluff
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This aspect, incidentally, will show up in the postwar elements of the other AUs:
The Continuation-verse is just the one that starts in the postwar world so it's front and center from the start. No small part of the wave of postwar extremism that includes, as per the WWI analogy, both visible analogues of Bolshevism and Fascism in different societies and a very Xinhai Revolution-ish movement under a Sun Yat-Sen expy that paves the groundwork for a Kuvira figure in the Earth Kingdom in the future (wink wink, nod nod) is because all the societies that fought the war had and have people who took major damage even when they're on the winning side.
And plenty of people in the Earth Kingdom in the canon-verse and the By Fire and Water and Earth and Air verse are aware that they WEREN'T winning. That it was the Avatar who won the war for them. And that bitterness is at least a part of the growth of what leads to the Kuvira movement while for other people in the Earth Kingdom elite it leads to the centralization that makes Kuei's successor another earth-bestriding autocrat like his father Yong Le (who was named after the most powerful of the Ming Dynasty Emperors).
War is a horrible thing, what it does to people is equally so. The Gaang may be the heroes that tilt the war to a win but it takes its own deep tolls on them regardless, and in every single world the healthier mentality that Azula has will lead her to the simple conclusion that she's done adventuring, it led to a lot of pain and suffering and even when she's on the winning side she refuses to keep hurting herself further and letting the power of destruction she has be what defines her life.
And in every single world the rest of the Gaang bar Toph keep to the chronic hero syndrome, though in the By Fire and Water and Earth and Air verse Azula and Toph eventually get together as both of them end up with the same realization and due to fighting on the same side, Toph knows Azula *gets it* without having to explain it and that's where it starts.
In the Dragon-verse the reason she stays with the Water Tribe is she can and does help to repair the damage her family did, as instead of doing the mighty whitey thing (loosely, the Fire Nation aren't white people, but they're still the imperialist-colonialists of the setting) she fully embraces her new people and her new culture and dedicates the rest of her natural lifespan to helping undo the damage.
In that AU the Water Tribe sees her as their Firebender, and she does find that home and a place to live....and as with the Continuation-verse faces the realities of war on a greater scale.
In the By Fire and Water and Earth and AIr verse she starts off with Iroh in his shop in Ba Sing Se because he understands her most of anyone and helps her to take her own steps to eventually leave the city and go to live in peace trying to set right what went wrong, and actually *showing* that at a deeper level than the rest of her family....who to be fair have the kettle of catfish of handling how to fix a Fire Nation that spent 150 years indoctrinated by its leaders and sees the Fire Lord as a traitor imposed by a living god against its will.
Some people in those situations get stuck in perpetual hero mode and adventuring (the Avatar, in particular). And some people simply cannot keep doing that for their own health and leave (Azula) where others find their own paths in the postwar world.
All of these stories also have Azula put through a regular physical wringer and her reaction to that is "I almost died far too many times in these wars, they've taken enough blood and given me enough scars. I'm done, I quit. I resign any claim to the throne, have all that paperwork, yada yada yada, good bye, farewell, good day sir. May we never see each other again."
She also knows more than most just how much damage her family did so her future consists of giving back some small amount of repair instead of the harm or instead of living in the Palace surrounded by the trappings of power.
So unlike the comics, in the event, the AU Azulas end up the most liked of the Fire Nation family as she's the one actually making those differences and doing so in a manner that isn't centered on the Fire Nation itself or stuck in the potential outbreak of a civil war and/or revolution and/or going from the Kaiser to the Fuehrer. This would have been an amazingly nuanced take on her future for the comics and a way for her to redeem herself without having to center her entire arc on her family or on requiring the people she did hurt to have to be around the person who hurt them and keeping them stuck as supporting characters without a voice of their own.
When the comics turned her into a Batman Rogue I decided I'd take my own path and showcase three alternative lives and three alternative concepts of 'redemption' and how in truth the most rational and pragmatic response to the canonical or even AU versions of the Fire Nation Royal Family is to go 'hell no I'm going to do my own thing now, so.....see ya never' and sod off.
#atla aus#by fire and water and earth and air#the dragon of the west#atla continuation verse#sometimes the best thing to do in a broken family is to walk away#the idea of Azula as the person facing the full aftermath and doing her best to help appeals to me#it gives her a much deeper arc and a way to showcase that war can ruin#but it can also be denied its own victories over its victims#azula the child soldier#azula the restorer
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TAYLOR SWIFT / FOLKLORE
Below is a collection of lyric starters taken from Taylor Swift’s eighth album ‘folklore’. The album holds references to: sex, alcohol, blood, depression, warfare, toxic relationships, medical failure, death as well as lines that could be taken as suicidal thoughts and parental abuse --- so please be mindful if you are sensitive to these subjects. All lyrics are posted as written on the album, but feel free to change pronouns or words to fit your purposes. This has been edited and reposted from my old blog.
the 1
i’m doing good, i’m on some new shit.
i thought I saw you at the bus stop
the greatest films of all time were never made
if you wanted me, you really should've showed
we were something, don't you think so?
if my wishes came true, it would've been you
in my defense, i have none for never leaving well enough alone
it would've been fun if you would've been the one
you know the greatest loves of all time are over now
if one thing had been different would everything be different today?
cardigan
when you are young, they assume you know nothing
i felt like I was an old cardigan
a friend to all is a friend to none
to kiss in cars and downtown bars was all we needed
you drew stars around my scars but now I'm bleedin'
i knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs
cause i knew everything when I was young
i knew i'd curse you for the longest time
i knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired and you'd be standin' in my front porch light
i knew you'd come back to me
the last great american dynasty
the wedding was charming, if a little gauche
there goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen
who knows, if she never showed up, what could've been
she had a marvelous time ruining everything
there goes the most shameless woman this town has ever seen
i had a marvelous time ruining everything
exile
i can see you standing, honey, with his arms around your body
it took you five whole minutes to pack us up and leave me with it
you were my town, now I'm in exile
i can see you starin', honey, like he's just your understudy
I'm not your problem anymore, so who am i offending now?
there is no amount of crying i can do for you
you didn't even hear me out
you didn't even see the signs
cause you never gave a warning sign
i gave so many signs
my tears ricochet
if I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes, too
even on my worst day, did i deserve, babe, all the hell you gave me?
cause i loved you, i swear i loved you til my dying day
i didn't have it in myself to go with grace
if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?
you wear the same jewels that i gave you as you bury me
you know i didn't want to have to haunt you
when i'd fight, you used to tell me i was brave
and i can go anywhere i want just not home
you can aim for my heart, go for blood but you would still miss me in your bones
you had to kill me, but it killed you just the same
mirrorball
i'll show you every version of yourself tonight
i want you to know i'm a mirrorball, i can change everything about me to fit in
i’m still a believer, but i don't know why
seven
are there still beautiful things?
and though i can’t recall your face i still got love for you
love you to the moon and to saturn
i think your house is haunted. your dad is always mad and that must be why
i think you should come live with me
august
never have i ever before
will you call when you're back at school?
i remember thinkin' i had you
for me, it was enough to live for the hope of it all
so much for summer love
you weren't mine to lose
i can see us twisted in bed sheets
this is me trying
i’ve been having a hard time adjusting
i didn't know if you'd care if i came back
i just wanted you to know that this is me trying
pulled the car off the road to the lookout, could've followed my fears all the way down
they told me all of my cages were mental, so i got wasted like all my potential
my words shoot to kill when i'm mad, i have a lot of regrets about that
it's hard to be at a party when i feel like an open wound
illicit affairs
that's the thing about illicit affairs and clandestine meetings and longing stares, it's born from just one single glance but it dies a million little times
you showed me colors you know i can't see with anyone else
don't call me "kid,"
don't call me "baby"
you taught me a secret language i can't speak with anyone else
you know damn well, for you, i would ruin myself a million little times
invisible string
were there clues i didn't see?
isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string, tying you to me?
time cutting me open, then healing me fine
mad woman
what did you think i'd say to that?
fuck you forever
every time you call me crazy, i get more crazy
when you say i seem angry, i get more angry
it's obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together
i'm taking my time cause you took everything from me
epiphany
sir, i think he's bleeding out
you dream of some epiphany, just one single glimpse of relief to make some sense of what you've seen
doc, i think she's crashing out
some things you just can't speak about
betty
i won't make assumptions about why you switched your homeroom but i think it's 'cause of me
the worst thing that i ever did was what i did to you
would you trust me if i told you it was just a summer thing?
i don't know anything but i know i miss you
if i just showed up at your party, would you have me?
peace
our coming-of-age has come and gone
i never had the courage of my convictions
i could never give you peace
i'm a fire and i'll keep your brittle heart warm if your cascade, ocean wave blues come
all these people think love's for show but i would die for you in secret
would it be enough if i could never give you peace?
your integrity makes me seem small
i'd give you my sunshine, give you my best but the rain is always gonna come if you're standin' with me
hoax
you know i left a part of me back in new york
you knew the hero died so what's the movie for?
darling, this was just as hard as when they pulled me apart
don't want no other shade of blue but you. no other sadness in the world would do
the lakes
i don't belong and, my beloved, neither do you
Is it romantic how all my elegies eulogize me?
those windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry
take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die
i’ve come too far to watch some namedropping sleaze tell me what are my words worth
i haven't moved in years
i want you right here
i want to watch wisteria grow
i'm setting off, but not without my muse
i’m setting off, but not without you
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I, Kaeya Alberich, Take Thee
Pairing: Kaeya x Fem. Reader
Count: 1976
Description: Kaeya knows that be does not deserve anything he desires. There is nothing he can do to make you his, but so badly does he wish there was.
Content: Unrequited love, angst, bittersweet ending, marriage.
Warnings: Slight spoiler for Kaeya's backstory but an addition of (non-canon!) Prince Kaeya.
In another universe, maybe I am not cursed so by the Gods. Kaeya resists the urge to nibble on the tail-end of his quill. It was unbecoming for a man of his stature to succumb to unsanitary habits. Plus, this particular pen hailed from a crow’s feather, hunted by the hands of a childhood friend. The intricate quill had not been put to use for a substantial amount of time, but it fits into Kaeya’s hand as if it came to shape its spine based on the curvature of his own grasp. He could get used to signing off documents and organizing civil affairs if it meant succumbing to such mundane sensations. The morning sun dripping onto his mahogany desks and floors, a faint scratch of keratin against ivory paper filling the empty space… It has been a long time since he’s made the decision to take over petty bureau duties. Today is a special day. Kaeya needs to focus on the satisfying echoes of paper and pen, on the sunlight heating his back, or he might just go insane.
The clamor of bells tugs Kaeya from his mechanical performance. Each ring is a song of desperation, a performance begging for his attention. Come out and celebrate! Indulge in the pain. He is not a man that falls prey to anger, but he cannot help that frustrated itch in his stomach as he hears the iron reverberating. Please just be quiet, Kaeya thinks. Let me forget. The hesitant croak of his door alerts Kaeya to the presence of the Acting Grand Master. She dons an outfit unique from her usual uniform - a cream-colored dress, embroidered by floral lace, a single azure ribbon tying at the waist. So even the straight-edged Jean has taken time off today?
“Kaeya, you can’t make these excuses forever.” He knows from how Jean closes the door with unperturbed silence that this is not a conversation regarding hilichurl nests or Fatui diplomats. He can tell from the way Jean drops the mature title of ‘Sir’ in favor of his childhood nickname, that it is a conversation Jean feels must be approached with gentleness as if Kaeya is a stray cat that claws at feeding hands. The Grand Master releases a heaved exhale because both of them dread this discussion as much as the other. There is an inherent wrong in seeing Kaeya distressed. He may not be shedding tears in solitude or resigning himself to the dormitories, but he is hiding, and that is enough for Jean to observe that he is not functioning as normal.
“Please, come for a little while. I know it’s not… something you want to see, but he’s your brother. Offer a small congratulations at the least.” Her heels tap on the polished hardwood.
“I was planning on coming by later this evening. Tell them I’m sorry for not being able to attend the main event. How could I? Just look at all this paperwork.” Kaeya’s signature chuckle follows, putting up a front of careless flirtation. It is not uncommon for Jean to rope the Cavalry Captain into his desk chair. Lord knows he’d never do it otherwise… yet now he claims servitude to the dulling labor. How ironic.
“I’ll tell them of your apologies… but both of us know that paperwork isn’t the reason you can’t make it.” Jean turns around, blonde hair trailing in the breeze left behind before Kaeya can quip up a rebuttal. She’s right. Jean is always right. The papers piling on his desk are from the drawers of his subordinates, filed away to be completed in another five months' time. There is no reason they had to be done today. He is hiding. He is a coward and a pathetic one at that. The thought alone provokes Kaeya to tug on his studded gloves and push out his chair. His sights are set on leaving because to be seen as a frail child is to fail at the sole thing he succeeds at. Being the chivalrous Cavalry Captain renowned for his beauty and failsafe charm is the one thing he cannot lose because he cannot let Mondstadt see how fragile he is behind the visage.
Mondstadt’s avenues are bustling. Oak tables identical to the ones across local taverns have been dressed in linen tablecloths and topped with miniature feasts. Children run between tables, tugging at each other’s shirts in a feisty game of tag as festive music tempts the adults to a dance. The tell-tale strums of Mondstadt’s No. 1 Bard’s lyre lead the crowds to the statue of Barbatos. Behind it, trails of petals line the paths leading to the limestone Cathedral. Couples, singles, and families alike make haste to enter through the carved doors. No one wants to miss this. Kaeya tugs on the collar of his fur coat, gazing at the entry before him. He can hear the music of an organ, romantic and rich, ricocheting from inside.
He steps into the Cathedral. The ceremony has yet to start and the pews continue to fill. Citizens scoot as close as possible to allow for more onlookers to take a seat. He finds a spot next to Huffman and a few other Knights, squished on the outer edge. It is three benches from the front. Too close for Kaeya to be comfortable. The croaking benches have long since met their capacity by now. Not a soul is missing, Kaeya reckons. Diluc Ragnvindr, the wine Tycoon, Mondstadt’s famous magnate, is marrying after all. It is no small occasion. Diluc’s brazen hair is a torch amidst fog, its perk hue garnering the eyes of all in the Cathedral. He is dressed in a suave black suit. It boasts minuscule gold embellishments followed by a hefty crimson cape draped on his shoulders. Even dressed in the furs and fabrics of royalty, one could sense a distinct awkwardness from him. If you’re going to marry her, at least look confident, brother.
It hurts. He cannot lie to himself - not that Kaeya was trying to in the first place. There is a pain associated with seeing the woman he loves marrying the brother that no longer desires to even speak to him. Now, Kaeya regrets standing up from his busy work. These thoughts won’t stop their festering, and it punches a hole through his stomach. Kaeya is all-too-aware that tonight, you will climb into Diluc’s sheets. He’d treat you kindly, of course. He grew up with Diluc and has seen his rigorous nobility tutors shape him into the gentleman he is today. There is no doubt that you will live a lavish life of luxury. A life Kaeya could never afford to give you.
In Khaenri’ah, Kaeya’s title of ‘Prince’ holds as much merit as it does in Teyvat. His people are dead or suffering. His city has crumbled into dust and shards of a forgotten legacy. Kaeya himself serves one purpose, and that is to bring glory back to the Eclipse Dynasty. It is in these times that Kaeya regrets being born royalty to a lost nation. In the solace of his chambers, Kaeya would stare at the painted ceiling and ponder. If I were born someone else entirely, would you give me a chance? But who is he kidding? Kaeya knows he’s handsome. It’s stupid and unreasonable to be so self-deprecating. He isn’t the one marrying you because he wasn’t Diluc Ragnvindr. He wasn’t from a line of Mondstadtian heroes; he was from the ashes of sinners and embers of civilization. He was Kaeya Alberich, Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius, caught between familial loyalty and a stinging betrayal. Of course he wasn’t marrying you.
The Cathedral doors groan as the nuns heave them open. Light floods in and frames the feminine body of the lady of Mondstadt. In your hands, a bouquet of calla lilies. On your body, a silken robe of pearls and diamonds. It flows at your back, fluttering in the blessed gales of Barbatos’. Kaeya swore that as a Khaenri’ahn, he would never see the Gates of Celestia. But this… this, he thinks, might be the closest glimpse he gets. No one dares to speak. She is beautiful. She has always been beautiful. Time slows as Kaeya lets himself take in the sight of you pledging your livelihood to his brother, and his brother’s livelihood to you.
Then, as if he is an innocent child once again, Kaeya closes his eyes as you two kiss. Clapping and cheers fill the atmosphere.
“To the Ragnvindr’s! Oley!”
“Say, Kaeya, do you ever wanna get married?” The girl questions from Kaeya’s backside.
“Maybe. Then I can show off in front of my lovely wife! That would be cool, wouldn’t it, Diluc?” Kaeya jests, elbowing his step-brother’s chest. Diluc rolls his eyes, ever the prodigy.
“We’re still young. There’s no use thinking about such things. Shouldn’t you focus on training?” He grumbles. Kaeya knows that he will never have a lucky wife. He will never have a healthy family, or a thriving home, or a genuine relationship. Those are nothing more than dreams to Kaeya.
The girl grabs Kaeya’s arm and begins running into the fields of grapes and firs. There is a childlike giggle dispersing for all in the neighborhood to hear, fading out as they lose sight of the manor. Reaching the edge of the cliffside, they halt. It overlooks a sapphire river below, fit for one of Master Crepus’ paintings. Diluc had been abandoned long ago.
“Hey, Kaeya, the water kind of looks like your hair.” The girl remarks, nuzzling closer to him. He feels his heart thrashing in its cage, begging him not to react, begging him not to ruin the fate of his country. To the girl, he smells of linen, lampgrass, and sweat, much as a kid his age should. Silence settles onto their shoulders, both of them catching breaths that had been stolen in the wind. “I didn’t ask before because I thought Diluc would get mad, but… Kaeya, how about we get married when we grow up?” How silly, Kaeya thinks. I couldn’t marry you if I wanted to.
“Hmm, okay. So you’ll be my lucky wife then?” Kaeya plummets down onto the grass and grins. It tickles the back of his neck and stains his blouse a verdant green. He dreams of dreaming, because that is all Khaenri’ahns like him can do. He dreams of coming home to your embrace or trudging back from battle hand-in-hand. Either one is okay. Anything with you is okay.
“Of course, stupid. That’s what marriage is. So you’ll be my lucky husband!” Lucky husband. It fills his heart with an immature pride too chaste for a traitor of his caliber.
“Deal!”
“Deal.”
They are naive children making impossible promises, but a part of Kaeya has never unlatched from those delicate whispers. Khaenri’ahns dream of dreaming, but just this once, Kaeya wished he could dream of you.
“So, Sir Kaeya, are you going to marry soon? Youth is fleeting! Get a wife while you’re young.” One of the Knights suggests, sliding him a suggestive beam. Kaeya let’s himself open his eyes. He processes the blinding light from colored panes of glass spilling over him, the jovial expressions of the citizens he has sworn to protect, and you grasping onto Diluc’s arm, a longing of adoration phasing across your features. Happy. You are happy. He turns towards the knight, cracking a smile.
“Don’t be silly - I’m already married, Huffman.” He lets the novice soldier ogle at him for a few seconds. “I’m joking. Lighten up.” Huffman releases a hearty chortle, commenting on his Captain’s sense of humor and putting a hand to his chest. He laughs along, but Kaeya knows there is no joke.
Don’t be silly. I’m already married. It was a deal, after all.
#kaeya x you#kaeya x reader#genshin kaeya#kaeya alberich#genshin impact x reader#genshin#noctis-noctua
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