i know all my request are for leon, but yea, love the way you write, anyway platonic of course but dad!leon getting a video where his civilian son is being held captive and abused because evil people
Not My Son
Pairing: Parent!Leon Kennedy x Son!Reader (Platonic)
Words: 2k
Content Warning: Kidnapping, Captivity, Depictions of Physical Abuse, Injury, Coercion, Parental Fear, Guilt, Descriptions Of Violence, Weapons, Trauma
Enjoy, Reader
Leon doesn’t finish the video. His hand slams the laptop shut before his mind can catch up, the sound cracking through the quiet kitchen. His heart hammers so loud it drowns out everything else.
He stands there, palm pressed to the closed screen. Shoulders locked. Spine rigid. Breathing shallow and careful, the way you learn when panic is a liability, not a warning.
In that frozen second, his mind replays the forty seconds he saw. His son’s face burns behind his eyes, bright and searing as a flashbulb.
Civilian clothes, rumpled and dirty, a hoodie he recognizes because he bought it on a rainy afternoon without any real reason except that his kid had liked the color.
One eye already swelling, purple and red blooming under the skin, the other fixed stubbornly on the camera as if he refuses to look away.
A split lip, blood dried dark at the corner of his mouth, a streak along his hairline where someone wiped without care.
Zip ties bite into his son’s wrists, arms wrenched back, shoulders twisted. Leon feels the ache bloom in his own joints, his body trying to mirror the damage.
The worst part—the thing that makes Leon’s chest feel like it might split—is his son trying not to cry. Not screaming. Not begging. Just holding himself together with thin, careful breaths, every sound measured and counted by the people behind the camera.
Leon closes his eyes and inhales slowly through his nose.
He counts, the way he taught himself to do when he was young enough to believe control could be learned. Exhales slow. Grounds himself against the counter, knees threatening to give out.
The phone on the table vibrates, the sound sharp and intrusive in the quiet.
He doesn’t need to look. He knows the rhythm of this kind of escalation, has heard it before in other places, but never this close to home.
He turns the phone face down. Opens the laptop again. Forces himself to look, because denial is a luxury he gave up a long time ago. If he’s going to do this, he needs to see everything.
The video is too clean. High-definition, carefully framed. The camera doesn’t shake. Whoever’s holding it wants them to notice.
Concrete walls. A single hanging light throws harsh shadows, carving the room into angles and darkness. No windows. No marks. Just the low hum of machinery, the kind of place built to swallow sound and keep secrets.
His son is tied to a chair bolted to the floor, slumped forward with exhaustion. Zip ties cut deep, skin gone pale and bruised. Leon catalogs every detail without thinking—how long the restraints have been there, how much circulation they’re cutting off, how he’ll cut them away without making it worse.
A man steps into frame, unmasked. That tells Leon more than any disguise ever could. Anonymity would have been easier. Showing his face is a choice.
He looks ordinary. Late thirties, clean clothes, relaxed. The kind of calm smile you’d see in a conference room, not here.
He crouches to bring himself level with the camera, partially blocking Leon’s view of his son as if even that small obstruction is intentional.
“Leon S. Kennedy,” the man says, voice light and conversational, and the sound of Leon’s name spoken like that sends a cold, heavy weight settling behind his ribs. “If you’re watching this, it means you care, and that’s good, because we were hoping for that.”
Leon’s jaw tightens, teeth pressed together until it aches. His face doesn’t change. He knows better than to show weakness to someone who feeds on it.
The man gestures. Someone off-camera hits Leon’s son, head snapping to the side with a wet, ugly sound. Leon’s hands curl into fists before he can stop himself.
His son gasps, breath hitching, a broken sound escaping before he can swallow it back. Leon’s vision narrows to that single moment, body locked in place by sheer will.
“I’m okay,” his son says hoarsely after a second, voice trembling despite the effort to keep it steady, as if he’s speaking directly to Leon through the screen, trying to reassure him the way he always did when he was younger and scraped his knees or came home shaken from something he didn’t want to explain. “Dad, I’m okay.”
The man smiles, slow and satisfied, like he’s just confirmed a hypothesis. “He’s brave,” he says, almost approvingly. “You raised him well. That’s why this will work.”
The video cuts. Leon stares at his own reflection in the black screen. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Something inside him goes still, the world shrinking to a single, unavoidable goal.
When his phone vibrates again, this time with a text message spelling out a deadline and promising further updates, Leon deletes it without reading it twice.
He powers the phone down, severing the line. Not denial. He just refuses to let them set the pace.
His son was never supposed to be part of this world. The thought coils in Leon’s mind, bitter as failure. He’d been careful. Layers of separation—different names, clean paperwork, no trail, no careless talk. Safety built from obscurity.
He raised his kid on routine. School lunches. Science projects. Movie nights. The quiet promise that danger stayed at work and never followed them home.
He never taught him to throw a punch or fire a gun. This life wasn’t something to inherit. It was something to survive—from a distance.
Leon moves through the safehouse, every motion mechanical. He opens a locked cabinet, pulls out a duffel bag he hasn’t touched in years. The weight settles his nerves, even as it confirms how far this has gone.
Weapons. Tools. Documents. Things that don’t exist on any official record. He checks them with practiced efficiency, mind already running ahead to logistics and contingencies.
He pauses, hand closing around a knife. Cold metal, grounding and dangerous. A memory surfaces—his son wrinkling his nose at kitchen knives, refusing to chop vegetables unless Leon did it for him. Too sharp, too final.
Leon sets the knife back. Not because he won’t need it, but because this isn’t about rage. It’s about getting his kid back alive.
The next video arrives while Leon is already moving. Rain slicks the road under his tires. Dashboard light washes his face as he plays the file, not bothering to pull over. He trusts his reflexes. He’s worked under worse conditions.
This one is shorter. Somehow that makes it worse. His son is slumped forward, exhaustion and pain dragging him down. Breathing ragged. Injuries worse. Swelling, a fresh split lip.
When his son looks up at the camera, there’s something fragile in his face. Not fear. Just the strain of holding himself together for someone else.
“Hey, Dad,” he whispers, voice raw. “They said you’d see this. I just wanted to say… I’m not mad. Okay? I know you didn’t want this for me.”
Leon’s grip tightens on the wheel. The car drifts before he corrects. Focus split between the road and the screen, heart pounding until his vision pulses.
“I know you always said your job stayed at work,” his son continues, forcing the words out through shallow breaths. “I guess it didn’t. That’s not your fault.”
Someone grabs his son by the hair, jerks his head back. The cry is sharp, involuntary. Leon growls low in his chest, the sound animal, pure fury with no room for doubt.
The familiar man’s voice cuts in from off-camera, calm and measured. A reminder that time is running out, and so is his son’s strength. The video ends.
Leon pulls over. Leans forward, forehead pressed to the wheel. He lets himself break for ten seconds. Then straightens. Starts the engine again.
Fear has a pattern. Desperation leaves fingerprints, even when it’s disguised.
He traces the signal through misdirection and false leads. Feels the trap closing around him, but doesn’t slow down.
They underestimate how well he knows this game, how long he’s lived with the fallout of other people’s fear. By the time he narrows it down to a cluster of abandoned warehouses by a dead rail line, his plan is set. Not clean. Not elegant. Just effective.
The warehouse smells of rust, oil, damp concrete. Leon moves through it like a shadow. Every step deliberate. Every breath measured. He avoids cameras, disarms traps, takes down guards with quiet efficiency. Mercy, in its own way.
He doesn’t feel righteous. Doesn’t feel triumphant. Just hollow and razor-focused. The world is corridors, angles, the faint sound of breathing pulling him forward.
He sees the chair before he sees his son. The same harsh light. The same restraints. Then his son looks up, eyes wide with disbelief that cracks into hope when he sees Leon standing there, real and solid and impossibly calm.
“Dad,” he croaks. Leon crosses the space in a few strides, cuts the zip ties with hands that only start to shake once his son is free and slumping against him—weak, trembling, alive.
Leon holds him close, wraps his jacket around his shoulders. Anchors him against his chest like the world might try to take him back if he lets go.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, voice breaking despite his effort to keep it steady. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
“I knew you’d come,” his son whispers, clutching Leon’s jacket like a lifeline. Leon closes his eyes. He knew it too, and that knowledge cuts deeper than any blade.
They don’t leave without a fight. Nothing ever comes easy. Leon shields his son with his body, returns fire with brutal precision. Every motion driven by a single purpose. No room for hesitation.
He takes a hit. Barely registers it. Blood slicks his sleeve, but he doesn’t stop until the warehouse is silent and the threat is gone.
When it’s over, Leon lifts his son, careful not to hurt him. Carries him out into the cool night. The world is strangely quiet after the violence.
“I’m sorry,” his son murmurs weakly as they move away. “I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger.”
Leon stops. Looks at him, taking in every bruise, every tremor, every sign of life with fierce attention.
“You were exactly strong enough,” he says, voice firm and unyielding. “You survived. That’s the only thing that matters.”
Weeks later, when the nightmares come and his son wakes gasping in the dark, Leon sits outside his door. Waits until the light clicks on and the breathing steadies. Says nothing. Explains nothing. Some truths are better proven by being there. He doesn’t talk about scars or close calls or what might have happened if he’d been slower. This time, the job comes second.
Shane Hollander x gn!teen! reader (Ilya mentioned)
Sorry it's been a while, hope you enjoy!
Your phone buzzed through your jeans, as you turned towards the steps. Hopefully that was Amber letting you know that she had arrived and was waiting near the end of the street like you told her to as to not be seen from the many windows your house had. If even one detail in this elaborate plan wasn’t followed to the letter then you could say goodbye to fresh air for the next twenty years, you could probably kiss it bye forever at this point. Let’s set the record straight you are not a bad child, your fathers know this you know this it’s common knowledge at this point that you are a goody two shoes through and through. Boring like your dad and most of the time you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Sneaking out like the name implies was very much frowned upon in the Rozanov-Hollander household, but this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and you could not take being called boring by the Pike girls any longer. Somehow Amber had gotten tickets to see one of her favorite bands that you could not remember the name to as you were more focused on not letting your presence be known on these old ass steps you have. To make a long story short Amber Pike scored some concert tickets her dad, your Uncle Hayden said he didn’t want to drive that far to hear a band he’d never heard of till two seconds ago and since she doesn’t have her licenses; enter you freshly licensed and eager to prove you have at least the potential to be cool. All well and good till you mentioned it to your dads and were immediately shut down by Mr.Boring because, “You're too new a driver to go that far with just Amber” and the classic “It’s just not safe.”
This was your chance and you were not going to let some steps, your lack of experience on the road, and one of your two dads (Papa said yes originally and then dad so no so it was rescinded) stop you from having a fun night of teenage rebellion.
The steps were totally cliche, creaking every step of the way as if the house was built in the 1800s, nevertheless you were up for the challenge. You feel like a pro dodging and distributing your weight so that you don’t disturb the peaceful slumber of your parents. Your phone buzzes again, she probably wants you to hurry, tired of waiting outside for you. You start slipping on your shoes carefully to avoid making noise. Once your shoes are on you debate a jacket but decide to suffer through without as you don’t have a jacket downstairs. Your hand is on the doorknob already celebrating your victory when you feel the piercing gaze of a disappointed father from behind.
“You're seriously not gonna take a jacket?”
The noise you let out wasn’t a sound you were aware you had in you, as all at once the lights clicked on and your dad was standing at the top of the steps with his hands on the banister looking down at you. You put one of your hands out towards him like you’re trying to calm down an animal and the other one on your chest as if to soothe your racing heart.
“What the hell! You scared the shit out of me dad!” Probably not the best thing to yell at your visible angry dad, but for a second you did genuinely think that you were going to die. I mean now you are most definitely going to but that’s besides the point.
“ I scared the shit out of you? You scared the shit out of me! What the hell do you think you're doing?” He’s whispering yelling you imagine so it doesn’t wake up his better half which you're grateful for. As he starts to walk down the steps that took you at least 10 mins to conquer you fully debate booking it. I mean could you outrun a three time cup winner in his prime hell no but now he’s old and your dad and you would really just have to make it to the driveway unlock your car and he’s at the bottom of the steps now.
“What were you thinking?” his voice is much softer this time, you guess it’s because he can see how scared you look right now.
“ I don’t know…Amber is outside waiting for me. We were just going to go to that stupid concert. I'm sorry dad, I just wanted to have fun with my friend.” Great snitch on Amber why don’t you, and better yet blame this whole “adventure” on wanting to have fun with your friends, could you be more lame right now? This night just keeps getting better and better!
“Honey Ambers not outside, Jacki caught her trying to leave an hour ago and called me. I didn’t believe you were going to do anything till I heard the steps creak.” The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you're five years old again and tried to sneak a cookie before dinner, except this a million times worse because you actually did betray his trust.
“Amber snitched on me!” Easier to focus on this than the fact that your dad looks like you just shot his dog in front of him. Lightening the mood and shifting blame to Amber may make him look less like he’s lost all trust in you. It now clicks that the reason your phone was buzzing so much was Amber trying to tell you that she got caught.
“Take your shoes back off and put your pajamas back on. I'm gonna go wake up Ilya and then we’ll have a family discussion about this.” He doesn’t even blink at your attempt at a joke, just stares at the door instead of you. I guess you both know how to unintentionally stomp on each other's hearts.
“Wait, I know what I did was wrong and why we don’t need to have a family discussion. I seriously don’t need both of you guys to be mad at me, one is bad enough.” Your desperate plea for mercy falls on deaf ears as hes already turned his back to you and is starting up the steps again to wake Ilya. You know he’ll forgive you eventually because he loves you more than anything in the entire world, but you would like to be forgiven right now.
“I’m not mad at you and Papa certainly isn’t but we are disappointed and together collectively we need to discuss how to prevent this from happening again. I’ll be back down in a few minutes, ok?” He of course refuses to absolve you of this guilt just yet, but he does turn around and look you in the eye when tells you he’s disappointed in you. Progress!
Your hand hovers near the door knob and you think maybe I can run away and start a new life in the city and not have to deal with the embarrassment of a family discussion and the guilt that is already eating you alive of disappointing your dad.
“Yeah, ok.”
“You try and make a break for it and I can guarantee you I’ll throw you over my shoulder like when you were little and have you back in this house before your feet even touch the driveway.” He says it seriously and you know he means it too but there is a lightness to the way he says it that makes you know that this too will pass.
So, Papa was awoken and he got a good laugh at you and Amber's frankly pathetic attempt at teenage rebellion which got him his own separate lecture from Shane. Eventually it was decided you would be grounded from skating, any and all electronics, your keys would be taken away for at least 4 months and you would also have to write a five paragraph essay for you dads to read about why what you did was wrong and how much you regret the choices you made. Amber was grounded for about a month before one of her sisters did something so diabolical they forgot she had tried to sneak out. You being an only child were not so lucky but your sentence was reduced after Shane read your oscar worthy essay.
Warnings - sad maybe dramatic Charles , reader is a huge well was a daddy’s girl, ( Camilla is the mom ), not proofread
Summary— Charles is afraid he is loosing his daughter, as she doesn’t talk to him a lot anymore and stopped wanting to hang out with him.
A.n - decided using she is better than you in these types of imagine but two lazy to fix it sorry, do we like it like this or prefer using she and yn in this types of imagines?
“ push, your almost there, push!” The mid wife instructed Camilla, making her use all her strength to push for the final time breathing heavily from the pain. Charles smiled lovingly at his exhausted wife whispering praises to her but his attention is stolen by the little tinkly cry’s. “ congratulations! You have a girl” Charles was shocked, he has a little girl.
The mid wife gently hands the tiny baby to her father making Charles panic he was going to break her, she was just so tiny and delicate. He stared down at her in awe “ your so beautiful my little girl” he gushes admiring her, he pouts at his little daughter adorableness when she yawn. He smiles down at her lovingly placing a small kiss on her tiny little head.
“ Charles Let me hold our daughter” he turns to his wife who was glaring at her for hogging there daughter, he sighs reluctantly wanting to hold her forever and hoping she never grows up. He turns to his wife giving her clear vision of Charles teary eyes. She shook her head at her husband cradling her daughter to her chest.
A soft knock broke Charles out of his trance watching his newborn daughter, he opens the hospital door to see his overexcited bestfriend and his girlfriend who was trying to calm him down. Pierre brings Charles into a hug “ congrats brother” kika wanders over to Camilla and the newborn aww audibly. Giving the new mom a carful cuddle, sitting down when Camilla helps settle her baby in her hands.
“ she’s beautiful! What’s her name” she asks rocking the baby, ignoring pierre impatiently waiting to hold the baby.
“ pierre, kika meet your god daughter. Yn jules Leclerc” Camilla announced, laughing how pierre got emotional hearing his her god father “ suck it max” he mumbles, finally getting to hold the baby. “ she’s so cute, how are you the father Charles” pierre teases his bestfriend who’s hovering over them scared pierre is gonna drop his baby. Charles laughed fakely.
“ he’s already so protective” kika whispered to Camilla, who nodded smiling fondly. Her little daughter has her father wrapped around her little finger, her god father two seeing as he is now cooing and gushing over her.
Time has became Charles enemy, where has the time gone ? It felt like yesterday you were just born but in reality your now 15. He felt the need to cry any time he sees you, his little girl is growing up and he doesn’t like that.
However nothing breaks his heart more than watching his daughter distance herself from him, she always was attached to his hip since she was born but now she barely hugs him or talk to him more than 10 minutes. Always hanging out with her friends, never having the time to have father daughter time with him.
“ hey sweetheart! Want to spend the day together? It’s just us two since Alex is with your mom at her friends” he asks you with a hopeful expression. “ sorry dad Lelia and Marie are waiting for me” you said cheerily, oblivious of how your dad deflated from yet again being turned down with spending time with you, his daughter.
You rushed out of the door not even giving him a hug, when you were young you always used to give him hugs and kisses especially forehead kisses, when you were little you picked up on the tradition to always give the people you love forehead kisses it became your love language.
For some reason you struggle to tell your love ones you love them so instead you would give them forehead kisses, now you nearly to that. Your father felt you drifting away from him yet he wasn’t the only one, Camilla could see you drifting away from them well mostly from Charles but she was like that.
She was so caught up in her social life that she didn’t notice she was pushing her family away, exactly like you were doing. She gave you her socialising gene, she knew she had to talk to you about it though as she has never seen her husband so upset before.
It was still the same day but later in the day dinner time. “ smells good amor” Charles praises Camilla making her kiss him quickly so there youngest child Alex doesn’t see.
“ I’ll go get yn”Charles stated seeing dinner about to be plated, “ uh.. she’s actually sleeping over at her friends” Camilla smiles sympathetic making Charles sigh irritated. “ right” he grunted going over to his son knowing at least he still wants him. “ daddy” his four year old son hands him a race car to play with him.
After the family dinner without there daughter, Camilla went to get there son in bed while Charles indulged in a beer which he rarely has, he was watching tv when his phone rang. He quickly grab it hoping it’s you wanting to be picked up but sighed disappointedly seeing it was pierre.
“ hello..” he says disinterested. “ wow feeling the love Charles” pierre tells him over the phone sarcastically. “ anyway why doesn’t my god daughter ring me anymore, she always use to ring me at least every week. She doesn’t and never answers my call” pierre says stressed making Charles chuckled sarcastically “ welcome to the club”.
“ I’m coming to Monaco in two weeks to see you guys and to see what’s wrong with her. Pierre says hanging up on him not waiting for Charles response. Charles sighs tiredly at lease he’s not the only one you are pushing away.
“ you alright hun ?” Camilla asks him settling down besides him, “ yeah, pierre rang him and kika are coming down here in a couple weeks. I’m not the only one yn has been ignoring” he tells her spitefully.
“ babe she’s a social butterfly you couldn’t except her to be a little girl hiding in your arms forever did you ?” Charles looks away sheepishly making his wife hit his arm, “ Charles!”
“ what! I just wish she still needs me, soon she’s gonna be getting married to a scrumy, disgusting boy and move away from here” Charles hyperventilates a little thinking about his sweet daughter getting with a boy and leaving him.
“ woah Charles! She’s only 15 she’s probably not even thinking about that. Other girls ? Yes but not her, all she is focusing right now is living her life. Yes she should focus more on her family but she’s just being a teenager girl” Camilla tells him, she rubs his hand before heading to bed herself. Leaving Charles alone with his thoughts.
“ hey mom” you chirped walking into the kitchen getting a glass of juice while your mom was cooking breakfast. “ hey sweetie”.
She turned to you and just stared at you, you were so much like her with her personality and blonde hair. You were practically her mini me except with her husbands eyes. “ wait, can you stay here for a sec, sit please” Camilla tells you making you sit down wearily thinking your in trouble.
“ lately you’ve been spending a lot of time with your friends which is good..” she starts you looking at her confused. “ just your making the mistake I made by putting friends above family, It has consequences that you will regret”
“ what do you mean?”
“ I use to be extremely close to your grand dad but chose to spend time with my friends over him” Camilla starts but chokes up a bit, “ I push him away and I- I regret that cause he always tried to get me to spend time with him k- knowing he was dying” you look at your mum sadly.
“ just don’t make that same mistake as I did ok?” She wipes her tears before going back to cooking breakfast.
You felt guilty now seeing how you were neglecting your family, especially your father. You were so caught up being with your friends that weren’t even that genuine, you got pulled out of your thoughts by your phone buzzing alerting you have a text.
Marie
Hey we are going to chill out at Robbie’s you I’m ?
You look at the message in distaste knowing they are going to pressure you again to smoke with them, not that you ever do. The reason you didn’t ditch them was cause you thought you fit in yet you were wrong, you dryly say no.
You get up and wander to your dad’s office, knocking on the door walking in seeing your father doing some Ferrari paperwork. “ hey dadda” you say to him sitting in the seat in front of him, chuckling when Charles jumps back in his chair.
You thought it was cause you scared him but it was actually from you talking to him and calling him dadda. You haven’t called him that since you were eight, Charles felt his heart soften, “ hey Cherie, u ok ?” He asks concernly, did you hit your head or something is that why you are having an actual conversation with him for the first time in forever.
“ yeah, just wondering if you wanna spend the day together, have a father and daughter day maybe” you asked him shyly, he had every right to say no since you have done numerous times.
“ yes! Sure baby what do you want to do ?” He eagerly says after getting over his shock, he felt like he could jump with joy his baby finally wants to spend time with him!
You giggle at your fathers excitement but you couldn’t help but feel guilty as he seems like he has been waiting for you to say that for a long time, “ maybe go for a walk…. And go to the markets” you suggested, “ sure lovely let’s go now” Charles chirps getting out of his seat.
“ now? Mom has breakfast cooking though” You tell him. “ that’s ok she won’t mind” he tells his daughter, he hasn’t been waiting for this forever and won’t let anyone stop him from spending time with his daughter even if it’s his wife that scares him.
After saying goodbye by you both head off out the door.
After going to the markets and having brunch you and Charles were now sitting on a blanket at the beach eating raspberry gelato.
“ we should have more father & daughter days” you comment laying your head on your fathers shoulder. “ we should any day you like my soi, even on race days I’ll make time” he says wrapping his arm around your shoulder feeling content with his relationship getting strong again like it was before.
“ I love you dad” you randomly tell him snuggling into his side, Charles heart now was seriously about to burst from hoe happy he is right now. “ I love you two, petit Soleil” he kisses you on your temple, your dimples you inherited from him showing from him using your nickname he gave you little sun.
Charles_leclerc
Liked by Camillaleclerc98, pierregasly, yn_leclerc5 and 680, 546 others
Father daughter day 🫶
Yn_leclerc5 great day with my favourite person 🤍
^ charles_leclerc see that @pierregasly 😏
^ pierregasly betrayal as it’s finest 😔
Random33 the cutest father & daughter duo
Pierregasly look at my beautiful niece and than..l there’s Charles
Im not even gonna go anonymous anymore. Arghh asking for another request makes me feel guilty knowing you have an essay due so i'll just present you a little prompt!
Being immortal and outliving people you love, you know the drill. It must be sad and lonely. But you know what i feel like would be devastating? Just imagine Teyvat in a time loop. Meeting your friends for the first time, getting know them, hearing their plans and ambitions, sticking with them through dark times, falling in love... Reader just happens to be the one to witness all of it over and over and over again.
Don’t worry about it! I’m horrifically avoiding it right now. I’ll probably have some lunch and do some more of it after lunch. I’m talking about things I enjoy so hopefully it wont take up too much of my brain and we’re going to ignore the graphic novel I have to create in 2 weeks too lmao I’m a professional procrastinator
I have a bit of an idea with this so I hope you don’t mind it being platonic and with the Mondstat guys either. I’m going to reference a previous set of headcanons where you’re the leader of the winds. The two writings aren’t related relationship wise though.
Pairings; (Platonic) people of Mondstat x reader
Warning(s); angst
Keep reading under the cut!
You had done this cycle millions of times before. Before you even became the leader of the winds, when you were just a small spirit. Much like your friend Barbatos.
And while the archon of this land could sleep for thousands of years at a time you had elected to protect his people from the dangers that the god of freedom was too asleep to do anything about. And in fairness you can understand why Barbatos has been asleep many a time to avoid his brain contaminating with similar ideals to Decrabain. You can’t blame him really...
But you’re so horrifically lonely. And it’s not like you’re surrounded by an absence of people. In reality you often find yourself over compensating for your loneliness. Nights are often spent in the tavern conversing with mortals that you can’t quite understand.
You half wish you could ascend to Celestia, at least there you can be merry with fellow immortals and not have the constant threat of losing a friend dear.
You have known the Ragnvindr family for many generations. It’s not like they are hard to notice. Bright red hair and, more often than not, a sweet, bubbly personality. Not many of the Ragnvindr’s have been blessed with visions, but they all make their way through life the best way possible. And while they seem to show similar thought processes to the previous anemo archon, especially considering the fact they basically own the alcohol industry in Mondstat, and more recently Teyvat in her entirety. But when you see the family treating their employee’s so well and with a great wage you can’t help but think maybe humanity can move past the age of dictators. Or at least the humans of Mondstat.
The newest Ragnvindr, Diluc had always caught your eye. You had helped babysit both him and his brother while you weren’t busy reminiscing in memories of old mondstat and slaying monsters of your home. The air of change hangs heavy on the air when you’re around them, it seems like the winds you lead are trying to tell you something that you can’t yet decipher.
Until the day comes when you can. Seeing a broken, sobbing Diluc shut you out of his home not only made you sad. But, it infact reminded you that you shouldn’t get too close to mortals. For, like your friend Crepus’, mortal life is fleeting.
You’ve seen many stories over the years, but there’s only so many times you can hear the same story before they all meld together.
Take Amber for instance, decided to become an Outrider because of her Grandfather. How many times had you heard that story? Someones grandfather joined the knights and inspired them? Too many to count. And as much as you want to remember Ambers story, you already know, like all the others, her memory will meld with the others.
Kaeya’s story isn’t one you’ll forget quickly, especially when the deeds of Khaenri'ah weigh heavy on your mind. Though you have seen a small handful of changing of alliance stories in your lifetime his is probably the one that’ll stick the most. Especially when the memory of him crying in your arms after the man he considered a father died.
There’s this one young girl you remember from centuries ago. She reminds you of Barbara a lot. Carefree, loves the people she works for. Just this girl was born a few millennia too early. She was apart of the Windblume resistance alongside the bard Barbatos fashioned himself after. You had attempted to smuggle the girl out the fortress many a time yet she always wanted to help.
Sometimes when you watch Barbara sing you can’t help but cry over a girl you considered your first friend after becoming leader of the winds. Barbara is under the impression that you hate her because of how you avoid the girl. But being constantly reminded of someone you couldn’t save in the end makes you so sad. You’re not sure how Barbatos copes with donning the face of a friend when you can barely look at the face of someone who reminds you of a lost friend.
Razor sits fondly on your mind. He reminds you of the people you did actually save in old Mondstat. You remember checking in on a handful of refugees that you had to hide in old caves and how easily they had climatized to foraging for food. Whenever you see Razor you’re reminded of another young boy who went missing millennia ago who was later found to have been raised by bears.
Through the centuries you’ve become good at pairing up couples. You seem to be able to point out people who will later enter a marriage. You’re not sure if soulmates and reincarnation exists, but that’s your only explanation being able to point to couples so easily.
You wonder for an immortal like yourself would be blessed with a soulmate. Especially considering you weren’t originally in a humanoid form. Maybe there’s some thousand wind out there for you that you’ll never be able to meet and fall for because of this form.
Your mind stretches to Barbatos whenever you think this but you never let yourself linger on it for too long. Lord Barbatos doesn’t like commitment, and you’re very much content with that, yes sir.
Your eyes often linger on Rosaria as you often ponder if she thinks she’s the only nun to have strayed from typical nun doings. You remember telling a small Rosaria tales of Decrabains nuns and how they helped with the resistance against the tyrant. You wonder if that’s what gave her the idea to stray from typical nunnery.
You smile upon Lisa fondly, a bright young woman with aspirations as high as the stars. Much like Rosaria you remember telling a young Lisa about alchemy and sorcery. She had such a knack for it, and seeing the woman return after only two years of study was a little disheartening. But you’re sure there will be people after her who will have similar aspirations with better outcomes. It’s not unlike you’ve seen people scurry their lives away in the pursuit of knowledge. You can understand her want for a different life.
As much as it hurts you in the end most, if not all, the people of Mondstat have buried themselves in your heart. And like you have done countless times before you’ll have to move on from them once you’re dead, no matter how much it hurts. Your mind ponders to Adeptus Xiao of Liyue. He’s under a similar curse to you. The curse of being alone while being surrounded by people. You wonder if that’s why Xiao has distanced himself from mortals.
And as much as you feel like you should take a page out of his book, you find yourself falling in love with Mondstat’s citizens over and over again.
Ok I've been thinking about this for so long lol. Can you do Mondo best friend hc?
mondo as your best friend headcannons
trigger warning: panic attack mention
Woooo my boy!! Mondo requests are amazing, genuinely one of my favorites to write. Look at he go. <3
- Mod Anna
• Mondo is a pretty stand-offish person when you first meet him, that's obvious. He doesn't necessarily want to be anyone's friend, you have to be the one to initiate everything. You need to speak with him first, you need to follow him around and try to be friendly. You need to be the one that's his friend. But when you do get to that point? Oh God, it's an amazing friendship.
• He's very protective, wanting you to feel a comfortable wherever. He's the big brother type, trying to make you try new things but feel safe in the process. He loves taking you on his bike places, making sure that the two of you are safe on the road. He is very careful with his friends!
• He has some pretty bad trust issues. Not in the stereotypical way, he trusts people way too fast once you two are slowly becoming friends. He will info-dump his trauma quite early on, not really having people to talk to about this sort of thing. The only person he could really talk to was his brother ... and now, he has to talk to you ABOUT his brother ...
• He will constantly ask if you'd like to skip class with him. When you guys do go out and do something, it's always really chill, nothing big. Just riding around the city and getting away for a little while. It's mostly when either you or Mondo is on the verge of having a panic attack. He needs to get away, or get you away.
• Although he seems a bit scary, he's the biggest teddy bear ever. He's an amazing friend, making sure that you're alright at all times, and he'll beat the shit out of anyone that even looks at you the wrong way! You're in for a lot of fun, inside jokes, and support.
hi!! for the writing suggestions, how about some platonic merry and pippin? maybe playing pranks on each other?
I really hope this is okay! Please send in more suggestions! Please send criticisms in the replies! Thank you so much for requesting! I hop you have a good day!
Prank wars!
Platonic fluff! Merry and Pippin x gender neutral reader
link to my masterlist is here
342 words
@aceofatook
A smirk widened on your faces as you looked over at Merry, his face scrunching up in disgust.
"Merry, what’s wrong?" You asked, a chuckle rising in your throat. It was a warm, blissful summer morning in the Shire, and all was well... for most hobbits. Being close friends with Merry and Pippin meant each day never ran smoothly. Most blamed it on the Took blood surging through Pippin, which often caused situations like this. The mischievous glint in his and Merry’s eyes this morning swiftly led to you waking up to cold water drenching you and your bed. This left you wanting revenge, and the unfortunate sprinkle of salt in Merry’s drink was the humble start of The Epic Prank War (part 5, as these things rarely ended, and when they did, it was only for a meal). The rest of the days, weeks, and months were spent tying shoe laces together, jumping out at each other unexpectedly, and telling them you hid three of their things each in the woods, when you quite wickedly hid only two, so Merry and Pippin spent most of their day searching for an item they never lost. There was never a clear "winner", despite how you all wanted to claim yourself as the best. Bubbles of laughter filled you and burst out of your throat as you witnessed Pippin growing increasingly impatient with his hiding place, ready to scare Merry. Little did he know, Merry was hiding, prepared to scare Pippin. Unfortunately for them, but fortunately for you, this happens more often than one would think. Pippin, being the more restless of the two, would usually give up hours later and squeak in terror as a delighted Merry exclaimed "BOO!"
Luckily for everyone, they knew when to stop and would often have a "truce"; despite the mutual paranoia of the break being infiltrated by more silly pranks, it was usually nice to finally relax with them. They always enjoy entertaining you and hearing you laugh. There is never a dull moment with these two.
