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sgcairo · 3 years ago

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My Dearest Darling (Irnes/Fatui!Reader Part One)

Alright you gremlins, gather around! I had to dig this out of the depths of my drafts and give it a much needed makeover, but here we are. Note that reader is gender neutral, and this is completely SFW. For those who don't know who Irnes is, this, that, and here will explain all you need to know! For all you existing Irnes smoochers out there (@ardensforest I'm looking at you), enjoy!

First Meeting

Irnes is well known around the palace. And as one of the many agents roaming the halls on the orders of the Harbingers or Her Majesty, it's only natural that you eventually encounter him, but you didn't expect it to be like this. He runs straight into you by accident, clearly in a hurry, and ends up knocking you both to the floor. Logically, it should've probably given you a pretty nasty bruise, but you're also an agent that's endured dozens of beatings in sparring matches with your superiors. It's really nothing, in comparison to the bruises that the sheer brute force of the Captain has given you in the past, but you weren't expecting to be slammed into full force by a lanky and oddly heavy clone.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry! Are you alright?"

He gets off you quickly and helps you up, dusting off your uniform. You don't even realize what's happening at first, he's that fast, but once he's standing in front of you and turning your chin to make sure your pretty face isn't hurt- Well, you can't help but blush a little. He's clearly one of the Doctor's clones, but he's not cackling at the top of his lungs nor setting anything on fire, which is... unusual. You don't have the heart to ask his name, only muttering a little thanks as he limps around you, brushing off your coat and muttering to himself while checking that you aren't hurt.

"Good, you aren't hurt. Once more, I'm terribly sorry for all this! I must go, however, forgive me моя красота!"

He quickly kisses your hand, bowing his head in sincere apology, before turning on his heel and bolting, leaving you in a stunned silence. You're almost tempted to follow him out of curiosity, but you don't, looking down at your hand with a little blush. What a strange man... He even called you beautiful after only looking at you for a second.

"Weird."

Misunderstandings

After that day, you keep seeing him around the palace. A passing glimpse of his pale blue hair, the echo of his voice or laughter down a nearby hall. But you don't get the chance to see or talk to him again, no matter how hard you try. He's always too fast, darting away before you can stop him. It's frustrating, to the point that some of your friends within the ranks have started laughing at your pouting face when you get back to the barracks. You just want to talk, how hard is that to achieve! Very hard, apparently.

Weeks of trying to track him down pass, and it finally happens, much to your relief. He looks surprised to see you, but you aren't falling for it again, and immediately pull him to the side before he can escape.

"You've been avoiding me, haven't you?"

He raises an eyebrow, clearly confused at your antics. The other clones he was with are now investigating to see why he was pulled aside by an agent of lower rank, but you don't care, grabbing him by the lapels and pulling him down to your level.

"Every time I try to talk to you, you're gone. Care to explain?"

"There's not much to explain, моя красота! I swear I have not seen you since, and if you wish to repay me for hurting you, slap me now! On the left side, please, that's the only one I can feel it on..."

What. Why is he blushing, and even leaning down a little for you to get a clear shot? Is he crazy?! (The answer is yes, obviously)

"Excuse me, what?"

"What."

"I'm not going to slap you. And I'm not mad."

"Oh. I see! Oh dear, I must apologize-"

"Just... shut up."

"Yes, sir!"

So that was awkward. But you got your talk, and Irnes assures you that he didn't even notice you (ouch) and very clearly asks your name. You give it to him, who are you to say no? It's not even your real name, anyhow, you're just a meager agent with nothing to your name. Sure, you have a family, but they aren't exactly well off. Besides, no one of a high position has really asked your name before, so who are you to say no?

"A lovely name, моя красота!"

"Then why are you still calling me that?"

"Oh! Because you're beautiful?"

"...Not really."

"Ha! No, you are beautiful! I may not be able to see under that mask of yours, but if what I can see is anything to go by... You are quite lovely."

This cheeky bastard. You can see the little smile on his face, but it doesn't sound like he's sucking up to you or lying... Hm. He's probably just flattering you, right?

"Well, I hate to leave again моя красота, but I do have a mission to complete. It was a pleasure meeting you formally!"

He bends down and kisses your hand a second time, winking subtly as he lets go, walking past with a little awkward bounce to his step. While the start of your... whatever this is might have been a little awkward, it seems to be going well now.

Friendship?

The next few months are... interesting. You see him occasionally, and eventually learn his name: Irnes. No last name, no title. Just Irnes. Which makes it easier on you, but he calls you "sir" instead of the other way around, which is odd. After asking him about it, he just shrugs with that pointy smile, clearly messing with you. You whack his shoulder in retribution.

You think you're getting closer, at the very least. He seems to like you, occasionally walking up behind you and grabbing your shoulders, scaring the living daylights out of you. You, of course, get him back by pulling on the long strands of hair around his face, which he's all too happy to oblige. He starts hanging around you more, and very clearly ignoring his duties just to poke and tease you. He's much taller than you, always getting you with short jokes and apologizing profusely when you pretend to ignore him.

You find that he spends a lot of time in the clone barracks and library, whenever he has free time. He can often be found sitting in the window overlooking the Piazza, surrounded by cushions and books. He invites you to sit whenever you appear, offering the seat at his side as he shows you his work with ruin creatures. He never really let go of his fascination with them, you realize, and he sometimes mentions working with them in the past.

"I wish I could go back... Liyue really was beautiful, you know. The shoal especially."

You don't ask what he was doing in Liyue beyond working with ruin creatures, but it couldn't have been anything good. That's fine though, you've done plenty of bad things yourself. Maybe not out of your own volition, but orders are orders, especially when you want to keep your head. You don't tell your mother the details of your work for a reason, only that you guard the Harbingers. She would have a heart attack if she knew the truth.

Plus One

At one point, he invites you to be his plus one to some sort of high society party. You decline regretfully, but only because you've never done well with aristocrats, much less greedy old men like the ones you're bound to encounter there. Besides, you don't have any kind of jewelry or clothes that would be fitting of such a high class event. You'd only embarrass him, being dressed in the old embroidered outfit your mother gave you, with little roses and leaves stitched into the blue fabric. It's old, to the point that it would look almost ratty. You can't go out in that, it would humiliate him. He seems a little bummed, but he respects your decision, which is arguably the part that hurts the most. He clearly wants you to go, but he doesn't do anything to pressure you, which you're all too familiar with, being an agent bending to a Harbinger's every whim.

But he misunderstands the reason. He thinks it's because you don't want to be seen with him in that way:

"It doesn't have to be anything romantic, if that's what worries you! I assure you, it's purely a business banquet. I just... feel quite silly, going by myself."

That makes you feel even worse for saying no. He doesn't hold it against you, though. In fact, he welcomes you back when you visit him in the library during your break, showing you the new design he thought up. He practically pulls you into his lap, showing you every little intricacy of his ruin creatures, explaining each part in terms you would understand. It's as if nothing happened, yet you still feel guilty for turning him down.

Overthinking

The first time he recognizes you officially as friends, you don't feel satisfied. For some weird reason, it doesn't feel right. He calls you his "dear friend", but you feel as if it's not enough. You also feel horrible for wanting to be his dearest friend, you've seen how he acts with those he trusts more than you. Is it so wrong to want that? You don't dare say anything, you don't want to ruin this tentative friendship you both have.

You find out he has a child. Well, not his, but there's a little clone following him around everywhere like a lost puppy, and you're shocked when he introduces the child as his "child". Oh. Maybe you've been reading this all wrong. Does he have someone already, or maybe had someone before? He's not wearing mourning clothes, but maybe it was a long time ago. That's probably why he called you his dear friend, right? You start to overthink it, thinking that maybe he's been toying with you, manipulating you. There's something he wants from you, isn't there? He's just trying to get into your mind, to use you for his own ends. Your superior warned you about this, and you so foolishly fell for it.

"What's wrong, моя красота? You look upset."

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing if it's bringing out that wrinkle between your brows!"

Oh great, now he's making fun of you. You resist the urge to pull away as he smooths his thumb over the wrinkle between your eyebrows, smiling serenely. Why does he make it so hard to resist? Are you just a fool, or is he just too good at playing you?

"However, his father will have my head if I linger, so I guess you'll just have to tell me later!"

Oh. You feel stupid all the sudden. You don't deserve him, do you? Overthinking every little thing... He must think you foolish.

The Past

The next time you see him, it's back in the library, swaying lopsidedly to the music from a record player, the black disk spinning and horn like attachment blaring some slow jazz, the room full of candles as he stands by a bookshelf. There's a book in his hand, undoubtedly about ruin creatures, and it's weirdly peaceful. In the warm light of the candles, you can see the scar along the right side of his face and neck more clearly, jagged and rough against his clear skin. It looks deep, to the point that you wonder what caused it. But you don't dare intrude.

"Come sit, dear. I don't bite."

He chuckles, but it's half hearted. He moves to sit down, but winces and struggles a bit, lowering himself into the chair slowly and shakily, only using one arm to stabilize himself. The other rests on the table, but it doesn't do anything to help as he plops down in the chair with a huff of annoyance, grabbing his right leg and pulling it into a more comfortable position with his free arm. He notices you watching him, but doesn't poke fun for once.

"Are you okay?"

He seems surprised that you'd ask, but chuckles regardless. What's so funny? He's clearly in pain, you've seen that face on dozens of senior agents when their old injuries are aching. So why is he playing it off?

"I'm fine, dear. My body doesn't work like it used to, some days are worse than others."

He says it so easily, as if he didn't almost fall just a moment ago while trying to get into his chair. He doesn't look old enough to say that his body is breaking down either... Maybe he's ill? Or maybe it has to do with those burns...

"Can I ask why?"

"You can. You just might not like the answer."

"What, is it bad?"

"It's not a happy story, dear."

"I've heard plenty of unhappy stories. If you want to tell me... I'll listen."

"I'll hold you to that in the future, then."

He won't tell you, clearly, but you don't push him. You have your own past, things that you aren't proud of. You won't tell anyone about the reason one shoulder clicks when you move it too fast, but this is likely much worse, if he's struggling that much.

"Alright. May I escort you back to your quarters later, then? I don't want you to hurt yourself..."

"That's very kind of you. I'll have to accept, having such a lovely majesty on my arm is hard to resist."

You give him a playful scowl at the "majesty" part, which gets you another one of those chuckles that you love so much. The rest of your evening is spent in relative silence, Irnes seems to be in a somber mood. Once he's finished reading and sketching, he moves to put his books back, but you beat him to it, snatching them right out of his arms with a teasing grin.

"Ah, you really don't have to-"

"Hush, I want to. Besides, you shouldn't push yourself too much. If your body is in pain, you need to listen to it."

Ironic, coming from you, but Irnes doesn't protest. Once you turn around, he's standing, though he's clearly favoring his left leg, offering a hand. You take it, coming in close and letting him grab your bicep, leaving the library and reentering the frozen corridors that surround it. Irnes doesn't keep pace with your normal speed all that well, so you slow down, letting him lead. It's weird, seeing his face without that weirdly wide smile, his frown seemingly being one of either pain or concentration.

Once you arrive at the door, he lets go, hobbling over and glancing back with a small smile.

"Thank you, dear."

"Of course. Make sure you get some good rest, okay?"

He chuckles again, but it seems more genuine this time.

"Alright. Don't worry your little head off, I'll be fine. Good night, dear."

"Good night, Irnes."

A Kiss

Irnes himself can't stop thinking about that night, not for a long while. You were all too kind to him, not to mention that you didn't press with questions, something he greatly appreciates. Yes, he's been fairly infatuated with you since the beginning, but this made it... more. You also don't seem to realize his affections either, always keeping him at arms length. Perhaps he wasn't clear with his goals? He'll have to be quite obvious, then.

A quick letter, penned in his barely legible handwriting arrives over dinner. Your friends whistle and tease you for it, but you ignore them, opening the letter and finding a simple message:

I will be in the Piazza this evening. Please do consider joining me.

You tuck the letter into your pocket and stuff the last of your pelmeni into your mouth, getting chuckles from your squad mates as you get up quickly, rushing to meet him. You don't want him to get too cold, waiting for your arrival, so you practically run from one side of the palace to the other, arriving in the Piazza completely out of breath and sweating. You always did run cold, compared to the cold of Snezhnaya, or so your mother says. Glancing around, you find a familiar figure standing at the top of the stairs in front of the palace, a cane in one hand as he seemingly observes the emerging stars. Huh. It's not snowing tonight...

"Ah, you're here."

"Yeah, sorry for keeping you waiting..."

"Nonsense. I would wait as long as it takes."

Huh. What's that supposed to mean? You don't ask, just move closer to try and figure out what he's looking at, his face tipped towards the few glints of light in the sky.

"I didn't know that it wasn't going to snow tonight."

"My predictions were correct, then. You see, there's a single night a year when Her Majesty's eternal winter moves west, and creates a brief window of clear skies. Only at night, however. I observed it a few years ago, but I didn't know it was recurring until tonight."

"Huh. So the storm moves just enough to see the stars?"

"Precisely. You understand me so well."

Okay, so it's not just that one phrase then. You can't ignore how weird these sentences sound, especially to your worrying brain, which is taking them way too seriously.

"So... That's what you wanted to show me?"

"Among other things. I thought, however, that you would appreciate seeing the stars after some time..."

"I do. Thank you."

"You know, many people think the stars are Celestia's bravest warriors, hung in the sky for all eternity to honor them. If my predictions are correct, the stars are not that at all, but masses of fire in the far distance, moving just as we do across the expanse of space. Marvelous, isn't it?"

"I didn't take you as an astronomer."

"I'm not, dear. I just... enjoy watching them."

"Yeah..."

No more words are exchanged between you two, just a comfortable silence.

"Do you have a vision, dear?"

"Yeah... why do you ask?"

"I see. It's nothing, I was simply thinking. It really does make sense, you're so strong spirited that I can't see it being any other way."

Your heart beats a little faster at that, and you can't help but move closer, until you're a mere whisper away.

"Really? I think I'm rather weak, I'm not sure why I got in the first place..."

"Not at all. You are one of the most stubborn yet kind people I know, dear. If I were an Archon, I would've given you one a hundred times over..."

He's going to be the death of you, saying such nice things. You fall back into a comfortable silence, watching as more stars emerge from the darkness, until the sky is so full of them that you can't believe there would ever be that many great warriors in Celestia to fill them all.

"Thank you for inviting me out here tonight..."

"Of course, dear. I enjoy your company, you know."

"I can tell. Now, shall we go inside? I'm kind of cold..."

"Of course! Come with me, I'll have Sergei make you a pot of tea..."

But before you can go inside, he stops you, a firm hand landing on your shoulder.

"Irnes...?"

He seems to be just staring at your face, his expression unreadable. You don't pull away, but you give him a confused look, waiting for him to make some sort of move-

Then he takes your hand, placing a clear and deliberate kiss on it.

You almost faint right then and there, staring at him with a shocked expression. You try to speak, to put your thoughts in some sort of understandable order, but nothing comes out except a stream of unintelligible stutters, his small smile making your ears heat up even more.

"Let's go inside, dear. You look faint."

That cheeky bastard.

Festival of Love

Eventually, the deep winter season settles of Snezhnaya, and Her Majesty's festival of love has started. It spreads like wildfire through the barracks, gossip and bragging filling the air as your comrades talk about their wives or husbands back home, or even their unrequited crushes that they plan to rectify during the festival. It leaves you thinking... Who are you going to take to the festival this year? You're known within your squadron to always attend, despite not having anyone to go with you, it's one of your favorite holidays. A week of traditional music, lights, and good alcohol, what wasn't there to love?

Originally you were going to ask him. You bought flowers, a rare commodity in the eternal winter that surrounded Snezhnaya, ones that glowed a soft amber and red, paying half your allowance for the month just for the finest quality you could find. You wouldn't be able to replace your boots with holes in them, but it was worth it to see the expression of joy on his face. But something stopped you... What if he didn't think of you that way? What if he was just overly affectionate?

Your squadmates encouraged you to do it. What could go wrong, they said. The worst he can do is say no, right?

That's how you ended up in front of the Doctor's laboratory, awkwardly holding a glowing bouquet, tapping your foot as you wait for your knock to be answered.

That's when the door swings open, and you chicken out. You don't even bother to stick around and see who opened the door, you just bolt, vanishing down the hall in a split second, cheeks aflame and heart racing.

"Irnesss... Your guard dog stopped by!"

Shit. You have to get out of here. Turning the corner quickly, you run until you're panting in the middle of the Piazza, hiding the flowers in your coat quickly, rushing past the bustling agents and nobles with a thoroughly red face. This was a stupid idea... What are you doing?

Once you get back to the barracks, you place the flowers back in the cup that you'd been keeping them in, making sure they were getting enough water. Another day, another failure. Ugh, why can't you just-

"A letter from Lord Irnes."

You turn and find a palace servant in the doorway, holding out a hastily scribbled note. You take it, thanking her quickly and unfolding it before she's even walked away, scouring the letter like it's personally offended you.

My dear,

I wish to invite you to the Piazza this evening. I have a little surprise for you! Please do join me, if you're so inclined. I cannot promise stars this time, but I have something so much better.

Yours, Irnes

He's going to kill you with embarrassment is your first thought. The second is that you have to show up, your pride demands it. So you prepare to skip dinner, instead training with your weapon and delusion until the sun starts to dip towards the horizon. The second it's out of sight, you rush to the Piazza, the last of the day crowds trickling out and leaving you mostly alone. He's not here yet, but you rush to the place on the stairs where you stood last time, bouncing your foot as you wait. Maybe the clones tattled on you, told him that you stopped by- no, they said it earlier, didn't they? He's probably going to ask you about it-

You're snapped out of your thoughts by his hand landing on your shoulder gently, your back stiffening at the sudden feeling.

"Irnes!"

"Good evening, dear!"

"You seem to be in a good mood..."

"Of course! I'm glad you're here, the first day of the festival starts quite soon!"

"What do you mean, the festival?"

"Oh, right! Forgive me, I got ahead of myself!"

He reaches inside his coat, producing a single blue rose, glowing faintly in the night as he hands it to you, petals silken and unblemished.

"I call it Perpetium! Unfortunately, the term eternia has already been claimed by our beloved Raiden Shogun, so I had to get creative! This rose will never wilt, will never die, for as long as both you and I live! Possibly even longer, my estimations are not exact..."

"...Irnes, I can't accept this."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Because I was going to ask you! I had flowers and everything! You can't just go and steal my idea!"

At your "frustration", Irnes giggles, hiding his grin behind his hand.

"I'm terribly sorry, my dear! I've been a wicked, horrible man!"

Irnes bursts into a fit of giggles at your dirty look, covering his mouth with his hand. You give him a playful whack on the shoulder, but that only makes him laugh harder.

"Was that the- the reason you ran away earlier-"

You flush in embarrassment, hesitantly nodding. That only makes him laugh harder, his shoulders shaking as he wheezes at the thought of you frantically running away earlier.

"I'm sorry, I'm very sorry my dear! I shouldn't laugh at you-"

You cross your arms and wait for him to stop laughing, knowing full well that it's all in good fun. Though you feel a little embarrassed, especially now that he knows you ran away...

Once he finally stops laughing, he takes a moment to compose himself, turning to you with a red tinted face.

"Forgive me, my dear. You know, I think it's rather cute, don't be so embarrassed. Please do forgive me for laughing..."

"Alright, alright. We should probably head to the festival then, before it gets too late..."

You start to walk away, only to be pulled back gently by Irnes, a wide grin on his face.

"Whoever said we were walking? I have a carriage for a reason, my dear!"

Somehow, despite everything, you manage to flush an even deeper red. You would've been mistaken for a tomato, if you weren't so human shaped. Irnes merely laughs it off, offering his good arm languidly. You take it, and he leads you out of the Piazza, where the lights no longer shine and it's purely dark.

"Not to worry, my dear. I can see perfectly well in the dark with one eye, at the very least. Like a pirate, you know. A pirate with manners, but a pirate nonetheless."

"And very handsome."

"You flatter me, my dear. I'm a scarred and aged man, the only handsome bit of me is what little tit I have left!"

"You're not that old, don't mess with me like that. You don't even look to be in your fifties yet, and that's not even all that old."

"You're right! Though if a scarred and progressively aged man is to your liking... Who am I to say no to you?"

"Exactly."

You climb into the carriage, offering a hand to help him up. Irnes waves it away with a grateful smile, the carriage swaying slightly as he sits down across from you, the warmth inside making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He settles himself with a bit of a struggle, the carriage jerking and swaying as it begins to pull away from the palace, leaving the darkness behind.

Once the carriage finally comes to a stop, you spring out, offering an arm as Irnes gets to his feet. He takes it gratefully, squeezing your bicep lightly as he gets down from the carriage, staggering a little but holding on to you to stabilize himself.

"Ah, the night air is always quite delightful! Shall we walk?"

"Lead the way."

The walk through the main street is slow, Irnes occasionally stopping to let you oggle the goods on display or talk to the many merchants enthusiastically. The smile doesn't leave his face, not for a second, his face lighting up in surprise when you bring him piping hot pirozhki straight out of the oven. The vendors are everywhere, but the main attraction is the memorial square, a statue of Brighella erected in the northern corner, brandishing her sword and decorated in flowers. Candles line the base of the statue in honor of her victories, some alight in the night as happy couples pass in droves.

A slow dance spins in lazy circles around the square, the music subtle and quiet in the peace of the night. Tiny lanterns hang around the square on paper thin strings hung off the edges of buildings, their warm pink glow casting the stone in wide spirals.

"It's beautiful..."

"It really is lovely."

The two of you stand at the edge of the circle, the music continuing to warble through the crowd. You want to ask-

"Shall we dance? I may not keep up well, but you have that... Light in your eyes. You want to dance, correct?"

"...You can't see my eyes."

It's true, you're still wearing your fatui mask from the palace. Irnes merely chuckles, shaking his head.

"I don't need to see your eyes to know that they shine. You're always so... brilliant, I would be a fool to claim that your eyes are not the same!"

You're at a loss for words, once again. Irnes has that affect on you, for whatever reason. Maybe it's because he's so bold, or because he confessed to you not long before this. Either way, you gape at him for a moment before clearing your throat pointedly.

"Thank you. You're... also brilliant, you know. You have a way with words, making even the smallest things seem so beautiful."

Now it's Irnes' turn to stare at you, or at least you think that's what he's doing. He then takes your hand squeezing it tightly.

"Thank you, my dear. I could sing your praises all night, but that will have to wait for later..."

He winks at you, and you instantly turn back into a flustered tomato.

"Let's dance, my dear. I'd hate for you to get cold."

He takes your hand, leading you out into the circle while humming along to the music happily. While one of his hands is occupied with the cane, he puts the other on your waist, letting you lead him in slow circles, swaying slowly in time to the rhythm. The pink light brings out the startling blue of his hair, casting his skin in a rosy hue, his smile soft and lacking in the pointy teeth he so obviously favors.

It's peaceful, having him so close, his breath on your face and hand on your side. You can't help the urge to lean in and kiss him, it feels so right-

"Careful, my dear."

"Hm?"

"Once you take this step, you can't go back."

"Oh, I know. Is it alright with you?"

"It always will be. Kiss me, my dear, before I get impatient."

With that, you move your hands to grip his shoulders, watching his face for a second longer. Oh, how you want to admire it more.

You kiss him gently, feeling how he softens against you. His lips are chapped, rough, but you don't care in that moment, the world closing and setting a single spotlight on the two of you.

When you pull back, you're almost convinced he's going to kiss you again. But alas, he merely watches you, a little grin on his face.

"You're grinning."

"Am I?"

"Yes. Is it because you're happy?"

"Of course! I'm just... glad that I'm not dreaming. It would break my heart to wake up right about now..."

"Well, it's a good thing you aren't dreaming, then."

Another kiss, the music continuing long into the night. You sway gently until you're nearly asleep on your feet. Irnes is so warm, it's like being wrapped up in a warm blanket...

"My dear... You're getting tired. I believe we should return to the palace so you can rest."

"Mmm. Fine."

"Good. Not to worry, I will come find you in the morning. We will discuss everything then."

"Okay..."

The journey back to the carriage is quiet. You're half asleep through most of it, Irnes' arm over your shoulders, escorting you back with a watchful eye. The carriage ride is also quiet, except this time you're leaning against his side, blinking slowly and fading in and out of sleep. Once you arrive back at the palace, he nudges your shoulder, herding you out of the carriage and back towards the palace, not the barracks. Weird. That's not where you live...

There's hushed talking. You don't bother to look up and see who it is, Irnes barely stops to speak with them. Once he's done speaking, he pulls you towards somewhere you've never been before, the door opening and a bunch of blue blurry blobs surrounding you.

The next thing you know, you're laying down and a gentle kiss is planted on your forehead, the bed dipping beside you.

"Goodnight, my love."

That's it! Hope you enjoyed this first part, more to come! Irnes might be sassy, but he also loves you very much.

Toodles!

#irnes #fatui reader #fatui x reader #fatui x gn reader #il dottore's clones #fatui #fatui harbingers #genshin impact #romance

78 notes · View notes

satorinnie · 4 years ago

Text

cry for me

atsumu miya x reader

genre; angst, post-break up

wc; 759

notes; god this has been sitting in my drafts since august…and i just went over it and decided to at least post something here…so sorry if there are any mistakes!

inspired by “cry for me” by twice :3

You once read somewhere that good judgment comes from experience, and a lot of that experience comes through bad judgment. You've always thought of your experience as a reflection of your parents' love.

Your head was still filled with images of your parents arguing on a daily basis. When you closed your eyes, you could see the screams and hateful remarks that would come out of each of their mouths.

You were an introverted person, and even though you wanted to speak up and have a say in your parents' relationship, possibly even helping to repair it, you couldn't because you were afraid. There was no guarantee they wouldn't treat you the same way they treated one another. You were a quiet and reserved individual, which portrayed you as a decent daughter in their eyes. You'd never jeopardize that. It wasn't the healthiest home, but you grew up telling yourself that it was better than not having any parents at all.

However, growing up in a family like that made you dream about the happy relationship you could have in the future; one that would save you from the toxic claws of your parents. In this lifetime, that relationship came with Atsumu Miya.

You never anticipated your awkward encounter at the cafe where you usually studied would lead to such an occurrence. It's cliche to call him your knight in shining armor, but that's exactly what he was. His sweet words of promise, the kisses he would lavish on your face after his practices, and arms that would engulf you in the tightest hugs before bed. It was impossible not to like Atsumu Miya. He was your source of happiness; he was the one who showed you the meaning of true love.

Yet, perhaps you were wrong about it all. Perhaps you were a fool; just like your mother, because that image of real love started crumbling sooner or later.

You don't recall when things began to shift. You’re not sure when the daily kisses ended, or when his beautiful whispers stopped. The arms that had once been your safe haven were now forgotten, like the toys that had gathered dust behind your closet. You didn’t know what went wrong. A happy relationship that lasted a good while, through struggles and hardships. You were both supportive of each other, helping, and aiding when one was in need. All of your fights would end up with sweet whispers of apologies; you were both happy. You knew these were red flags, and you knew you'd come to regret your decisions.

But what could you do? You loved him. And you didn’t know how to keep going without him by your side. Perhaps this was how your mother felt at the time, with the thorns of her love never letting go, rendering her unable to let go of her sweetheart.

Your lover, or now ex-lover, has always been a star that shined too bright next to your dim one in the night sky. Atsumu Miya was the center of attention wherever he went while you were the extra space that occupied his side, yet he never made you feel that way.

Maybe that’s why your heart soared in pain.

You’ve dated for three years; since the last year of high school. The wave of feeling that hit you when he asked you out was equal to the intensity of a tsunami; heavy and consuming.

Who could’ve guessed those exact emotions could resurface again; just in different conditions.

Perhaps it was your fault for disregarding every thorn that dropped in your heart anytime he hurled venomous remarks at you. Perhaps you should have realized that you were the only one attempting to keep him at your side, his star flashing so brightly that it began to blind you.

No more real love

I kept pretending I was strong

So why?

Why were you the only one who grieved the end of your relationship?

Why was there no sign of regret or pain in his face when he told you he wanted to break up with you?

Why were you the only one with tears streaming down your face, broken sobs desperately trying to leave your throat?

Why did he have a new girl in his arms two weeks after your relationship ended?

Why did he look so happy; shining brighter than he ever did next to you, while you were still grieving the loss of your love?

Cry for me the way I cried for you

I want you to cry for me.

#cryforme.html #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu scenarios #atsumu angst #atsumu x you #atsumu x y/n #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu miya #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu fic

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aries-rising-on-an-aquarius-tide · 4 years ago

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Evocations: XVI

The Chief District Attorney drafts an over-eager redhead with too much to prove, to replace Alexandra within just a few weeks. Liv allows the natural rhythm of the work to sweep her along, pouring herself into it in order to keep the loneliness and the mourning at bay.

Darcie and Alexander check in regularly enough, even after the sale of the apartment is settled, two months after being on the market. She is genuinely touched that they call, but dreads it, too - being forced to sit in her sadness for that brief period every few weeks.

Elliot checks in too, in his own way. For the first couple months he pretends that he is being subtle about it: asking her if she's eaten, glancing at her fridge every time he stops by her apartment, making sure she is the first to nap in the cribs if they have a lull. As Christmas approached, he suggested drinks or pizza outside of work more often. He made it clear Olivia was welcome to celebrate Christmas with his family.

But Liv didn't want company. She didn't want Christmas. All she wanted was her life back, and if she couldn't have that, she wanted to work. So, she put her head down and plodded forward.

It was late in January when the phone call came. Olivia grabbed the phone on the first ring, assuming it was a case about to break. On the other end of the line, though, was Alexander's voice. Immediately, a chill snaked down Liv's spine. The Cabots never called her at work.

"Olivia," Alex's father said quietly, and the knot of tears in his throat was audible, "we lost Darcie."

Liv went stiff in her wheeled chair, fixing her eyes on a pile of paperwork in front of her. She listened to Alexander's soft voice telling her the basic details, all the while thinking of how he believed he had lost his entire family, when Alex was somewhere still alive.

She assures him she will call when she arranges her flight, and ends the call, walking straight into Cragen's office where she tells him she needs time off.

Alex has never been so sick of a winter as she is of that first Winter in Wisconsin. She has three layers to strip out of as she comes through the door at the end of the day, and Sky impatiently dances circles as she does so, waiting for her dinner.

Her job now is at an insurance firm. Not selling it, thank God, mostly just auditing and reviewing applications. Like everything else she has undertaken, the job is easy and she excels. Her skills are painfully underused in the position, and she is already exhausted with it by January.

Tina, her 'sister,' continues to see her regularly. Behind closed doors, they are acquaintances at best; any hope of having a close friend in the woman had sailed very early-on. Alex is, in fact, surrounded by acquaintances - in co-workers, at the stores she frequents, in her neighborhood. But nobody gets close.

Close isn't an option any more. Every time she forgets to respond for a beat to 'Emily,' every time she sees someone new, Alex is chilled through, wondering if she has been found out. She worries about people asking the wrong questions, about strangers who look at her a moment too long.

Is this the day? she has asked herself a thousand times, Is today the day I die?

In the bathroom mirror, she runs her fingers over the scar from her bullet wound, and tries to convince her reflection that she is Emily now. She practices it like daily affirmations, trying to accept her isolation, her loneliness, her confusion.

Once Sky is fed, Alex reheats some chicken soup for herself (she has refused to cook anything but hot meals since the first snowfall), and takes it to the spot where she has set up her desk and PC. She has gotten into the habit of keeping up with the news in New York, and in Dallas where her parents are; in her email are dozens of newspaper subscriptions she uses to keep on top of SVU cases and other tidbits.

A foot rubs Sky absently under the desk as Alex eats her soup and reads. Outside the doors to her back patio, the snow swirls and flutters with no end in sight to the frozen dairyland's stasis. This is when she sees it.

It rolls up on the screen of her digital copy of The Dallas Morning News:

Beloved Wife of Prominent Local Attorney Passes, Community Mourns

Below it, she reads her parents' names . . . her own name, words that she knows are a part of her real life, but at first she can't make them feel real. Again and again, she reads the blurb about the death of her mother, and the recent death of herself.

My mother is dead.

Mom has died.

Alex repeats the fact, continues to paraphrase it, until she rises from the computer and walks back to the kitchen with her half-eaten soup. Laying the bowl in the sink, she stares blankly into the receptacle until she feels the burn of her fingernails cutting into her palm.

When she looks up from her bleeding hands, her eyes land on the telephone, and she briefly considers calling Jack Hammond and demanding that he give her back her old life. To attend her mother's funeral, to be held by Olivia, to feel something again.

In the end, Alex takes Sky to bed under a thick pile of blankets, and her sleep is filled with nightmares where snow falls in Dallas, and she wanders the streets, screaming for her mother, who cannot hear her call.

Olivia has never been to Texas, and cannot think of a worse reason for her first trip there as she touches down in Dallas and embraces Alexander Cabot, who seems diminished without the two blondes who have always bookended him.

She moves into mothering mode quickly, encouraging Al to eat and sleep. She keeps a wary eye on his drinking, and makes sure that he is working through any paperwork Darcie left behind. As parents most often do, the Cabots had originally arranged to leave everything to Alexandra. After the cartel case, some reshuffling had occured, and Olivia is touched and conflicted when she finds out that some of it was shuffled to her.

When he falls into a fitful sleep the night before the funeral, Olivia slips silently, curiously into Alex's teenage bedroom. It is mostly intact: the walls showcase 80s movie posters alongside Feminist icons and clippings of political milestones of the decade.

Liv breathes deep of the ghost of her lover in the space, fingers reverently gliding over academic awards and dusty photos where Alex's smile beams out at her. On the bookshelf, she reads titles one after the other - Rubyfruit Jungle nestled right up next to Little Women . . . Jane Rule, Roald Dahl, Beckett, a gathering of strange bedfellows that brings a wisp of a grin to Olivia's face.

Finally she sits down on the narrow, creaking bed and picks up the tattered stuffed penguin at the pillow. The sigh that pitches from her is swollen with melancholy.

"His name is Shivers," Al tells her from the doorway, and Liv jumps at the sound. He fills the doorframe with his height and heavy sense of his grief.

"Of course it is," Liv sniffs with amusement, giving the flightless bird another once-over.

"You should have him," Alexander furthers.

The amount of restraint that Olivia has to employ to keep from confessing that the man's daughter is still alive is utterly monumental in that moment. She binds it, snuffs it, locks it away again and again. No confession comes, just a smile for Alex's father, and a nod.

The morning following the funeral, Liv flies out of Dallas with Shivers in her suitcase, leaving behind her a dozen yellow roses on Darcie's grave.

In mid-April in Wittenberg, much to Alexandra's dismay, the ground remains frozen. Most of the snow slowly melts, however every now and then, a light dusting of fresh flakes comes down in the morning or overnight, then melts with the climb of the sun.

She has lost weight through the winter months, and the sharp planes of her face in the mirror are painful to acknowledge. No proper mourning of her mother had come to pass; Alex had simply filed the knowledge away as a part of the life she lost, and continued the monotonous plod forward in the strange play she now acted in each day.

Before April gave way to the slightly warmer thaw of May, the insurance firm where she was working threw a social mixer - to break up the long change of seasons, they explained. Tina, who was concerned about Alex's weight loss and isolation, had pushed hard for her to attend, even if it was just to get out of the house for something other than work and errands.

So, on the evening of the mixer, Alexandra found herself at a local drink lounge called Doubles, quietly sipping a Shirley Temple. Her co workers were made up mostly of the usual office-job types: clad in off-the-rack suits, soft-spoken and nerdy, often shy, and unfortunately not very interesting. Alex stayed hugged to the bar, drinking and trying to decide how long she had to stay in order for her escape to be considered polite rather than asocial.

"Mind if I join you?"

The man that belonged to the voice was from the Claims Adjustment department of the firm. Alex had seen him around now and then, perhaps even passed polite words with him - but she couldn't recall his name. She waved her hand in the direction of the stool next to her in reply, and he settled in.

"You don't remember me, do you?" he chuckled, watching for the bar tender to free up so he could order a drink.

"I'm not so great with names," Alex told him apologetically.

"Well, I remember your name - Emily." He had a great smile, and he flashed it at her. "Mine is Greg."

"Thanks for reminding me."

He called to the bartender for a rum and coke, then checked if she wanted a refill, which she declined. "Where were you before Wittenberg?" he asked.

"Tulsa, Oklahoma," Alex told him, pulling from the pool of lies and backstory that she had been taught in October.

"Ah," his green eyes twinkled with amusement, "That explains it then."

"Explains what?"

"Why you seem to disdain Wisconsin winter so much."

"I didn't realize it was so obvious," Alex smirked.

He laughed, wrapping both hands around his highball glass. "Were you in insurance there?"

"No. No, this has been a big change for me," she admitted softly.

"Do you miss it?"

Alex startled. "Oklahoma?"

"Whatever it is you left behind."

The blonde paused, her blue eyes locked on the liquor in her glass. "Yes," she confessed, "I do."

They stayed at the bar, drinking slowly, while Greg asked her innocuous questions that were neither boring nor bothersome. Alexandra could feel herself relaxing, loosing herself from the lonely exile she had been prescribed. Before the evening was over, she even caught herself smiling at him, wanting to laugh at his simple jokes.

When the event began to empty out, she declined his offer for a ride home, and was genuinely surprised when he accepted it without pushing back. Neither did he ask her for her number, or to see him again. Alex wondered on her taxi ride home if perhaps she had misinterpreted a man's intentions for the first time since adolescence.

Her worry was quashed, however, when Greg reappeared at the office beginning of the week, and asked her if she would like to have lunch together. She agreed, and it slowly became a regular thing.

By the time he finally asked her on what could be considered an actual date, Alexandra was anxious at the idea of going back to being alone.

She considered the long winter, in which she hadn't put up a tree or celebrated the holidays. Considered the death of her mother, and the nightmares that had followed, leaving her breathless and shaking. Alex even considered the ring, somewhere back in New York, that might never find its way onto the finger of the love she had been forced to abandon.

Facing down the idea of that isolation for the rest of her life was too much to bear.

Alex said yes.

#law and order svu #svu #olivia benson #alexandra cabot #alex cabot #olivia x alex #cabenson #evocations #hearteyes4mariska #my writing #fanfiction #my fanfic

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whiskeykneat · 6 years ago

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One More Saturday Night [1]

Notes: trying something a little different since the ao3 link doesn't seem to be working for some people. I made a cut but if it doesn't work this is tagged #long post. // Summary: For everyone else, it's just one more Saturday night in 1964, but for Gale Hawthorne and Peeta Mellark, they’ve both received letters that will change the course of their lives forever. // Rating: this chapter is T, but some parts will be N*FW

I. Fortunate Son (1964)

CHAPTER ONE

It's eight o'clock on a sultry July night in Twelvetrees, West Virginia. Down at the carhop, Katniss Everdeen has just switched shifts with Joanna Mason, and as she leans against the freezer, stretching her sore calves, she's unaware that the boy who's just rolled up in the parking lot with his brothers, the one who carries fifty pound sacks of flour to the back door and gets tongue tied in her presence, would give her the world if he could.

While Joanna slicks red lipstick on her sultry mouth and clips on her garters under the flickering yellow light of the washroom, Peeta Mellark sits in the parking lot of the carhop and turns the words he'll say to Katniss Everdeen over and over again in his mouth, the official decision letter from the draft board burning a hole in his pocket.

He ain't needed here. Got some brothers. That son of yours has always been useless. Let the army straighten him out, Mr Mellark. His mother's words feel like they've been seared into his soul, deeper than the burns from his many years of tending the ovens in their family bakery.

[[MORE]]

"Peet! Cat got your tongue?" Delly giggles, elbowing Peeta in the side. Delly is like a sister to him, they grew up side by side in the garden between the shoe shop and the bakery, fast friends since the day she found him hiding from his mother under the rose bushes.

Unlike Peeta, Delly has always known what she'll do when she grows up, and that's marrying the boy with the easy, charming smile who sits even now with one arm slung over her shoulders -- Peeta's second eldest brother, Wheatley. Their lives are laid out before them like the instructions for a gingerbread house, all it takes it for the pieces to be iced together, like a fairy story, falling into place.

The letter crinkles in Peeta's shirt pocket when he pats it, and as if he knows what's on Peeta's mind, Wheatley nudges him unsubtly. "You gonna tell her?" Peeta has never been close to his older brothers, and this spirit of bonhomie at the eleventh hour feels like they've already picked out a plot at the VA cemetery for him.

Peeta shrugs, feeling a blush heat his cheeks as Katniss skates on by.

"My, I wish I could pull off those dungarees!" Delly chirps, pointing at Katniss.

"I think she looks..." Like a stone cold fox. "...Outta sight." And Katniss does. She's got her dark hair pinned up like old posters of Rosie the Riveter, with a plain scrubbed face and not a hint of makeup. Yet something about her is still so inexpressibly arresting that Peeta can't help but stare at her, lost in thought, as she skates between the cars, taking orders left and right.

She's a devil on skates: her form needs work, but she can serve five cars in under fifteen minutes, with nary a drop of root beer float spilled in a single lap. She never smiles, but Peeta knows any boy in town would love to take her to Lookout Point for some necking. The sexual revolution may not have made it this deep into the mountains yet, but when there's nothing else to do, people make their own fun.

Still, the line is drawn between the Seam and Town, Katniss is the girl from the wrong side of the tracks, and Peeta may not want to admit it to himself, but that's the real reason any town boy would take her out, to see if she'd go all the way, or if she'd keep her legs locked up tight.

As she passes by the finned Buick Electra, she looks up and meets Peeta's eye, and though she never breaks the flow, he sees her look back again, and he could swear she almost smiles.

•••

I don't know how you do it, Joanna had said earlier, with a tone in her voice that might have been a slap or a smile. You might just make something of yourself and get out of this town, kiddo. What she doesn't say is written on every silver scar that marks her flesh, but Katniss lets Joanna keep her secrets, and that's why they're friends.

When Joanna slams out the back door, Katniss hears a Caddy roar in the alley like a tiger, and there's the scream of her friend's high laughter before the only sound left in the waiting night is crickets and the catchy song trickling from the kitchen radio: Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do...

For a moment, Katniss is lost in the past, and she stares out the back door as the moths flutter at the neon lights, feeling every year of her eighteen summers and twenty more besides, as though she's faded to a pale reflection of herself before she's ever gotten her or Prim out of this place.

"You look like you're run off your feet, girl. Sit down and take a breather. Them Town kids can wait." Chaff plucks the order pad from Katniss's fingers and starts putting up the tickets as he steers her to a chair beside the fan. "'Sides, Mitch would kill me if you fainted on my watch." Chaff passes Katniss an ice cold bottle of pop, and she feels herself sag in relief.

Chaff once flew planes with Abernathy, back in the war with Germany, but beyond that she hardly knows him at all, for Chaff never talks about the city he left to come to their little town that sleeps as the rest of the modern world passes them by.

The bottle of pop sweats in her hands, and it makes her think of the way her pa would bring home one as a treat when she was little, to be shared sip by tiny sip with her baby sister, each fizzy bubble held in their mouths for as long as they could, to make the sweetness last.

"Shit, Miss Undersee was supposed to be here an hour ago." Chaff smacks a hand on the counter, but Katniss can tell he doesn't half care. "If she's late one more time, I'll fire her ass. I don't care who her daddy is."

Before Katniss can make up an excuse for Madge (the secret of how sick Madge's mama is lies on her tongue like a wedge of pitch, sticking her gums together), Chaff passes her a twist of greasy fries and a milkshake (strawberry, like the wild berries she used to sell door to door with her best friend Gale, before he went down the mine). She can't believe how ravenous she is, anyone would think she hadn't eaten since breakfast, and that's as close to the truth as she's willing to admit to herself.

Ever since the mine explosion that killed her father, back in '55, Katniss has had to shift for herself and her sister, keeping their small family afloat. The mine owner sent their mama to a sanitarium in Richmond to recuperate. When she returned, she seemed half the person she used to be, and had to return again and again to be put back together for something called hysteria.

But that's all water under the bridge now, and Katniss is no longer that frightened eleven year old girl, forced to survive on the kindness of strangers. Abernathy took pity on her and hired her as soon as she turned fifteen to work for him at the carhop, and she'll spend her life trying to repay a debt that can never be quantified.

Mr Abernathy passed out hours ago, he's almost as fond of white lightning as Katniss is of making extra tips, anything to get out of this town before it's too late. She's got a scholarship to the university, the same place Abernathy went to, even though she's no more likely to study physics than she is to sprout wings and fly away from the dust of this coal town.

At midnight, when the neon lights shut down, and all the moths in town flock to the lustrous glow the stars make over the quarry pond, she and Chaff will use all of their combined strength to roll Abernathy over and make sure he doesn't drown in his own vomit. That's part of her debt, and she'll be deep in it until she shuffles off this mortal coil.

So when Madge bursts through the door, not a single strand of blonde hair out of place, Katniss is too full of sugar and grease to protest when Madge insists she'll take the next orders out.

"Been pilin' up." Chaff nods to the tickets. "That little Cartwright gal came by and dropped 'em off while Katniss took a breather. By the sounds of it, they're gittin' liquored up out there." But he doesn't make a move to stop Madge from going out the door.

Madge blows a strand of golden hair off her forehead and adjusts her headband, her pale fingers flying over the laces in an intricate pattern as she re-ties her skates. They're pristine white, the kind that Katniss's little sister Primrose would give her eye teeth for, but nothing in the Seam stays white for long, not with the coal dust that gets onto everything, coating it like funerary ash.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she says to Katniss, biting her lip and looking away from her friend. Chaff makes a sound of deep disgust in his throat, and passes Madge the tray. Once she's skated from sight, he turns back to the fryer, and turns up the radio.

Come gather 'round friends and I'll tell you a tale / Of when the red iron pits ran a-plenty / But the cardboard-filled windows and old men on the benches / Tell you now that the whole town is empty (North Country Blues, Bob Dylan)

•••

Madge has skated eleven blocks to get here, refusing to take her daddy's car like some spoiled little debutante, although she might have a year ago, before she went to university, before everything began to fall apart. There's a run in her stockings that will have to be repaired soon, and a burning in her lungs that reminds her she's alive. Now that she's been to university and back, this town feels smaller than ever, but it's a good feeling, as if nothing bad could ever happen here, cocooned from the world outside.

When the lights turn down low, and the town sleeps, she'll lie in her bed and listen to the hum of the locusts in the sycamore tree, where the initials M+G are still scarred across the trunk, as if life followed a pattern, laid out like a children's jumping rhyme.

•••

It is quite propitious, as far as plans go, Miss Undersee. Seneca dabbed at his lips with his napkin. His mustache was damp with moisture, and she felt her stomach curdle at the way it gleamed wetly under the lights. She just hoped he got this whole breakup over with soon, because she was sure that one more minute of having to endure his rubbery lips and his mechanical groping on her knee would make her commit an entirely unladylike act.

As Madge fantasized about flipping Seneca the bird, he laid a clammy hand over hers and took a deep breath. With my money and your breeding, I think a marriage would suit the pair of us, don't you agree?

But my degree... I haven't finished it yet. Madge's smile froze in place, suddenly entirely too aware of the predatory gazes of the waitstaff, as though the entire moment had been orchestrated. She felt blindsided, and furious all at once. But good manners won out, and she smiled again, with a cheer she did not feel.

Seneca laughed, a touch of condescension creeping into his voice. I'm not marrying you for your mind, Margareta. Your father said you might be stubborn.

Madge reeled back in shock, stunned. Suddenly it all seemed too much: the soft candlelight felt as garish as the cheap lights of a carnival fanfare, the white wine in her glass tasted like rotgut mash. She tried to tug her hand back from Seneca's, but he held it fast. You talked to my daddy already? Her voice seemed to be coming from far away.

Why, of course I did, darling. Seneca squeezed her arm tight, a warning. Now, if you want to finish your university degree by mail, that's fine with me, but you won't need any of that when you're Mrs Seneca Crane, wife to the next senator of West Virginia. He continued his monologue, the room fading to a single pinprick of light until all Madge could see was that flashy diamond, all she could hear was the sound of champagne corks and applause, and all she could feel was the tightness closing in on her, as if Seneca's ring was around her neck instead of her finger.

#long post #gadge #gale/madge #gale x madge #everlark #historical au #hunger games #hunger games fic #underthorne #gale hawthorne #madge undersee #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

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crotchety-old-emu · 2 years ago

Note

🎥 🫦💋👁️

💋do you have any guilty pleasure ships that you really want to write for but are scared to?

usually, if i really like a ship, i will start writing for them at some point or other. i used to write RPF, there's very little that's reviled more than that, so i think i took the biggest hurdle when it comes to shipping taboos. even so, i've only ever had a lovely reception in all the fandoms i've engaged in. which i supposed has a lot to do with the fact that i'm not a well-known or good enough writer to get hate.

edit: there is one ship i at some point wanted to write, which is pedrazar (nothing much to do/lovely little losers) - they're not a guilty pleasure, though, and the reason i'm scared of getting into writing it, is because i don't really think i could do justice to peter's utterly fucked up state of mind.

🫦what is your biggest regret in one of your fics whether it be something you wish you didn't do, or you wish you did do?

my biggest regret is, as i suppose it is for many fic writers, not finishing stories that had some real damn potential - or perhaps not even starting on them. there's three stories that i genuinely think could have been the peak of my writing, two of them have been partly posted, one of them has been gathering dust on my hard drive for years.

i keep telling myself that i will still finish the two that have been posted. i even went so far as starting to rewrite one of them - swallowed in the sea (harry potter, remus/sirius), which i started writing probably around 15 years ago - when i fell ill with covid a while back. i still do believe it could really be great - i'm actually really pleased with the bit i've rewritten. but on the other hand, i know that if i haven't finished it by now, i probably never will.

the other that's been posted (even though the better part is wasting away in my drafts folder) for those who are wondering, is water out of wine, my stucky-fic that i discussed earlier. i think there's some bits in there that really delve into steve's depression, as i myself was at rock bottom when i wrote them - i don't think i'll ever get better at describing mental illness than i did there. so in a way, it has always kind of felt like a personal victory and i'm sad i never finished telling that story.

i answered 🎥 and 👁 in my previous post.

thanks for the ask!

#writing #fic writing #answered asks #stucky #harry potter #remus/sirius #pedrazar

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bunysliper · 8 years ago

Note

we're both high school teachers and our students ship us but little do they know we're already secretly dating Caskett AU. I know this was on castleficpromts, but I just feel you would do this story justice on so many levels with your talents. Hopefully you write, but if you don't I will still love you and your amazeball writing.

Hi Anon! I am so incredibly sorry that it’s taken me so long to write this for you. I hope you’re still out there, and I hope you enjoy it if you are.

Much to Be Thankful For

A Caskett AU

“Mr. Castle, are youmarried?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d beenasked that, and he had no doubt that it would be the last, but still Rickchuckled.

Miranda and Ben were the last onesout on the last day of classes before Thanksgiving, but he could see theshadows of their friends lurking in the doorway, waiting for his answer. Cockinghis head to one side, he met the girl’s wide eyes, noting the way her cheeksflushed under his scrutiny. Her companion shifted beside her as well, lookingless confident than he had just a few minutes ago.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have –it was a dare – I’ll just go. We’ll go. Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. Castle.”

This time a full-blown laughspilled from his lips. “Guys, it’s okay. You didn’t offend me. To answeryour question, no, I’m not married. I have been, but it didn’t stick for somereason.”

Well, one very large reason, but hehad learned to recognize that there were many issues with his short-livedmarriage to Meredith, beyond coming home to find her in bed with her director.

His students stopped in thedoorway, sharing a look before turning back to him. He could see the curiosityin their eyes.

“Oh,” Ben started, hisvoice low. “I’m sorry.”

Rick lifted a shoulder, shruggingoff the sympathy. That part of his life was over a long time ago. “It iswhat it is, Ben, don’t worry about it.” Off their skeptical looks, he added,“She said I corrected her grammar too much, so I would say it’s for thebest. Wouldn’t you?”

That got a laugh out of the kids.He smiled too, getting up from the desk he’d perched on during dismissal andmoving to gather his things at his own.

“What about a girlfriend?”Ben continued.

“Why do you ask?”

Again, the kids shared a look.Interesting. He was used to the curiosity – he had heard all the variations onthe question before, after all – but this seemed to go beyond that.

“What are you doing forThanksgiving?” Miranda asked quickly, rising on the balls of her feet. Theheels of her boots tapped the linoleum in quick succession as she dropped backdown.

“I–” he started, closinghis mouth while he tried to make sense of their intentions. “Guys, ifyou’re trying to invite me to dinner, I appreciate it, but I’ll be having awonderful feast with my mother and some friends of ours. You don’t need toworry about me.”

Closing his lesson planner, heglanced up to find them looking out in the hall, mouthing something to thestragglers waiting for them. Rick watched Miranda’s lips purse, saw her head bobup in confirmation.

“Why don’t you head home,guys?” he suggested, sliding the book into his satchel. “Enjoy yourbreak to the fullest. Make some mischief – wait, no, that’s Halloween.”

Miranda giggled, nudging her friendwith her elbow and mouthing “now” to him. Clearly it was the boy’sturn in whatever scheme they’d cooked up.

“You should ask Ms. Beckettout,” Ben blurted. “I mean, obviously not for Thanksgiving since you haveplans–”

“–And she has plans too,”Miranda added, helpful.

“–and that might be weirdanyway, since it’s a holiday. But maybe on Friday?” Ben finished.

“But she totally likes you,everyone can see it!” Miranda insisted, picking up where her friend leftoff.

Ben nodded in agreement, removinghis hands from his pockets to reveal two flat plastic cards, not dissimilar tothe ones in Rick’s wallet. “Anyway, we got these, and they’re for you. So,here. Take her somewhere nice.”

Rick stared at the pair of cardsBen placed on his desk, stunned. They were… okay, they were trying to set himup with a fellow teacher. That was nice. Odd, especially considering thetiming, but still rather touching nonetheless.

“Ben, I can’t take these. I –thank you for the gesture, but I really can’t take these from you. You shoulduse them.” He peeled the gift cards from the desk surface, offering themback to his students.

Shaking their heads, both Ben andMiranda stepped back, scurrying to the door.

“It’s a gift. You can’t giveback a gift, Mr. Castle. That’s just rude,” Miranda quipped, glancing overher shoulder. “Have a good break – and ask Ms. Beckett out!”

Rick laughed, waving goodbye tothem, nodding to the other juniors who were still loitering outside his classroom.

“Go home,” he ordered,allowing the corners of his lips to tick upward, betraying his attempt atsounding stern.

Once they were gone – really gonethis time – he allowed himself to glance down at the gift cards in his hand. Itwasn’t the first time his students had tried to set him up with a woman heworked with, it wasn’t even the first time they’d suggested gorgeous KateBeckett from the history department as his date, but none had ever been soforward as to provide money for the meal.

His laughter bounced off the emptychairs.

“Crazy kids,” hemurmured, pocketing the gift cards and going back to packing up his desk. Asmuch as he hated to bring work home over the break, he had a pile rough draftsto be graded and handed back the day they returned to school.

“They got to you too,huh?”

Spinning, he found Kate Beckettleaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, her messenger bagalready on her shoulder. She lifted an eyebrow at his surprise, glancing aroundthe empty room.

“Did I startle you?” sheasked, amused, pushing away from the door. Rick allowed his eyes to drop fromher face to trace the long lines of her legs, the sway of her hips before hisgaze drifted back up her body. Kate smirked at his less-than-casual perusal.He’d never been subtle when it came to checking her out.

“Ah, no.” Kate smirked athis unconvincing denial. “But I’m glad to see you,” Rick added, watchingher brighten at that. “You ready to get out of here?”

His girlfriend’s head dropped backas a groan fell from her lips. “God, yes. But we have to go straight tothe store if you expect to be able to get a turkey that will thaw intime.”

Shit, she was right. He’d beenputting off shopping, but if they wanted to have a chance in hell of the birdbeing ready to cook by Thanksgiving Day, it had to be done today. Otherwise, hewould be using the gift cards to help pay for dinner for everyone in his house.

“Right, yes. Okay, let’s go,”he swore, zipping his bag and lifting it onto his shoulder. He caught her handon the way up the aisle between desks, squeezing her fingers and releasing thembefore they reached the door. Rick gestured for her to walk ahead of him as hekilled the lights and closed his classroom for the rest of the week.

“You didn’t answer, youknow,” Kate reminded him once they were on the subway, sitting shoulder toshoulder, their groceries (massive Butterball turkey included) in eco-friendlybags at their feet.

Rick blinked. “What didn’t Ianswer?”

“Did you get the talk fromyour kids?”

Rick grinned. “The talk? No, Igot that from my mom when I was in the seventh grade.”

She rolled her eyes, bumping hisshoulder with hers. “You know what I mean, wiseass. Miranda and Ben? Wasthat the same talk I got from Lucy and Brynn?”

“I don’t know,” he said,leaning in to brush his mouth over hers. “Was it about whether you’remarried or dating, and then an order to ask me out?”

Kate barked a laugh.“Something like that. You might have come up once or twice.”

He leered. “Yeah I did. Didthey give you gift cards too?”

She shook her head, grinning.

“Huh.” He patted thepocket where he’d stashed the cards. “They’re so working hard to make thishappen, I would’ve expected them to cover all their bases.”

Kate hummed, resting her cheek onhis shoulder. “Well, they’re obviously expecting you to make the firstmove and woo me, Mr. Castle, not the other way around,” she teased.

“If they only knew howbackwards they had it,” he mused, remembering the shyness in her eyes whenshe’d asked him out the first time, the softness of her hands on his cheeks andher breath on his lips at the end of their first date. They were nothing if notequals in their relationship, always had been; he wouldn’t have it any otherway.

His girlfriend smiled, nodding againsthis jacket. “They’ll learn.”

Rick made a noise of agreement, loweringhis chin so his cheek brushed the crown of her head. “But oh, while youwere grabbing the stuff for the gravy, I picked up ingredients to make thatmixed berry espresso cheesecake you adore. How’s that for wooing?”

She chuckled, slipping her fingersdown the suede sleeve of his jacket to tuck her hand into his. Their palmskissed, fingers bumped before interlocking, and he dusted a kiss over her hairin reply.

“You woo me just fine,Rick,” Kate assured after a moment, lifting their joined hands to herlips. “But the cheesecake will totally help.”

Well, that was good to know. Ofcourse, he had more than a dessert for her, but the rest was a surprise forwhen he woke her on Thanksgiving Day and made it clear to her how grateful hewas to have her in his life.

A/N: I am so thankful for all of you, for the friendships I’ve made, and for the fact that you all still allow me to share my words with you. Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this.

#Castle Fanfiction #Castle Fanfic #Caskett #Caskett Fanfic #Castle AU Fic #Meeting AU #Job AU #prompt responses #my fanfic #Anonymous

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