#insanely painful situation to live through

[bisnes-socks]

i've read people's thoughts on the album as a whole and i've analysed most of the songs myself by now, so here's my thoughts on the whole people's champion album.

1. in ready to go, well he is just that, ready to go and try, even if he fails. he's not afraid and going forward and doing his thing is what he intends to do and what he loves to do. he has agency over his career and image, autonomy over himself.

my longer and more in depth song analysis posts are linked here in the text.

i personally don't think the album has a single narrative through it. the songs are thematically connected, but it's not one chronological and cohesive story to me. i've seen people speaking a lot on the theme of agency. i'd agree, that agency and autonomy are the major themes of the album, but i would specify that in my opinion, it's about finding and claiming agency. i think he has agency in almost every single song, but it's about him realising that he does have it, even when it feels like he doesn't, and him finding it and holding on to it.

2. in cha cha cha, he's talking about different sides of himself. in this song the two aren't necessarily living in perfect harmony, because one man needs piña coladas to coax him out, but both are.. intentional. and ultimately it's about finding the bravery to be who you are, which he is always advocating for and has really succeeded in, it seems.

3. in takavoltti, yes he is being sort of incited into crazy shit, but he absolutely recognises himself as a person who just.. gets into crazy shit easily. this side of him is also very present in mic mac. he's not bullied or abused into insane stunts and things, he recognises his own agency and both mental and physical autonomy in all of it by comparing himself to the dudesons etc. i think the song recognises the toxicity of the situation, but he's in control of it - as much as you are in control of your own personality and impulses.

4. ruoska is getting into the territory of maybe lacking some agency - life treats him harshly sometimes, and maybe he feels a bit powerless in front of all that. but then! he claims agency, by essentially going well yeah this hurts but hehe i'm into pain bitch. he literally says "baby hei mä oon valmis, anna tulla" meaning i'm ready, give it to me.

5. in kot kot i feel like he is at his most helpless. he's trying to control his situation by running away from things, trying to dance his worries away, but it's all crumbling down. in this one his agency in the situation is pretend.

7. in sex = money he is taking back like aaaalll of his agency and autonomy. his image, his work, his power, his role, his personality, his sexuality. autonomous agency anthem! he doesn't give a fuck! let's make sex moneyyy. BUT at the same time the song recognises the risks concerning agency and autonomy in the world of music, where selling sex is so prevalent. i think he is choosing to hold on to his.

6. in skit + autiomaa, he has lost agency and control over his life yes, but he is learning to find it again. he is listing things that he has done, to help himself feel better and to improve. it might not help (immediately anyway) but he's doing it. and he has thought about it, he has sought for help, he has sought for solutions, he has taken the steps. he is actively trying to help himself. i think that makes the song all the more emotional and sad, but it is not without hope, it's not without his own personal action for himself, and not without progress.

8. bananas is more about togetherness and collectivity i think. but i think it's also a song where he is truly enjoying himself. feeling himself, you know? if kot kot is a pretty sad song about partying, this one is pretty sexy. he's feeling like the hottest boy at the club, you know? truly into himself and into his crew and everything they get up to.

9. huhhahhei is about new connections. making the choice to be open and even vulnerable with new people. setting your own boundaries and giving yourself the permission to enjoy new people. self-confidence! 

10. in icip, he's not so much in control of things that happen to him, but he doesn't seem to be toooo bothered about it. which i find quite fitting. he sees things for what they are but he doesn't seem insecure or scared about any of it.

11. people's champion is a recap of him finding himself in a whole new situation and finding his footing in all of it - and recognising the help he has had along the way, while also being proud of everything he himself has achieved.

so overall, i think thematically this album is quite heavy, maybe dark even, but to me, it's not a sad album specifically. he comes across as someone incredibly tenacious. he's able to stay very strong, and he is able to recognise when things aren't going great. i think ultimately, the album is him going through life changing events, both good things and bad things, and coming out on the other side stronger and wiser than ever. it's an album of many emotions, but at the end of the day, he persists. and naming it people's champion, the single tear on the cover.. he's facing it all, taking it all head on, claiming his pride and moving forward. he's strong.

it's a powerful album.

[meowsticmarvels]

who else up thinking about the 3-4 month gap between ZTD's D-END 1/C-END and the reactors going off. it isn't rly elaborated on much but i think whatever happens there is very obviously extremely horrific and tragic the whole time. it makes me crazy to think about. there's probably timelines where sigma and phi and anyone else vital to the project didn't make it to april. more in tags. it is crazy and i need to know peoples thoughts

[tendercoretroglodyke]

when the anticipatory grief hits and you can't breathe lol 😅

[livlaughloveluke]

ᡣ𐭩 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱

daughter of poseidon!reader x luke castellan 🫧

IN WHICH.. in an attempt to keep percy from going insane, y/n is forced to keep her relationship with luke a secret

warning! the fic contains- feminine reader // post tlt but no luke betrayal (percy is there and chris and clarisse are together) // use of y/n

🎧- give you the world by steve lacy

2.4k

Since the dawn of time, you and Luke Castellan have been best friends. Attached at the hip since birth, the two of you have always been close. He was the one who helped you conquer your most intimidating challenges, whether that be the nervousness due to the first day of school or a Minotaur vigorously hunting you down.

And you assisted him, too. On those sleepless nights due to haunting nightmares, you lay beside him, comforting him through every scared shiver. It had always been Luke and Y/N, two peas in a pod, destined to spend eternity together.

Now, you both reside in Camp Half-Blood, eagerly awaiting your next adventure. You loved your time at the summer camp, whether it was tending to the young children or paddle boarding on the smooth and crystal blue lake that glimmered as sunlight passed through. It was thrilling to live such a beautiful life with the people you loved most.

It all started when you waltzed into the infirmary at fourteen, hurt and confused, with Luke and Annabeth by your side. The journey to get here was long and painful, losing one of your best friends, Thalia, in the process. Your head throbbed as Chiron explained the basis of everything, since this whole Greek God situation could be hard to process.

Poseidon, the God of the Sea, claimed you with ease the moment he saw you lingering by the lake all day. With Hermes, it took him a lot longer to accept Luke. However, you cheered him up when no one else could, lighting up his whole world, and no matter how bummed he was about his absent father, your illuminating smile shifted his mood instantly.

You’ve been a year-rounder since then; the world is too dangerous for you to venture off. Every once in a blue moon, however, you wish that just for one year, the monsters would stop prowling and you could explore the cities that tourists swarmed on a regular basis. Other times, you were happy to live in the warm solace you referred to as camp. The companions made inside the safe haven were incomparable to all the mysteries that roamed outside.

Around a year ago, a small blond boy arrived, his cluelessness mirroring yours when you first stumbled in. As you gave him the standard tour, something seemed to be off. The stories he shared of devious monsters attacking reminded you of your childhood, and a feeling of suspicion and concern arose.

Your wariness was only confirmed when the golden trident floated above Percy’s head. Sure, you were excited to have a younger brother, but you knew the dangers the life of a forbidden child contained. So, you made it your honorary job to protect him no matter the circumstance. You taught him how to surf and how to use his powers for the greater good.  And so a magnificent connection was formed, with you and him bonding like full siblings. He loved hearing all of the gossip between the older campers, and you loved when he updated you on how his friends were doing. Not to mention the chaotic board game nights you and he shared with Annabeth and Luke. There were almost no hidden secrets, for you told each other everything. Which is why you felt horrible about the massive personal detail you left out of your weekly yapping session.

You and Luke had been dating for three months. You had liked each other for a while, but eventually the overly flirty comments and long stares got the best of him, and he confessed . One breezy night, he asked you to meet him on the waterfront before bed. You obliged, stepping out into the chilly weather to find hundreds of blooming flowers (courtesy of the Demeter kids) arranged neatly in a heart. It was cheesy, but it was the exact type of movie love you were looking for.

That chilly, moonlit evening, you decided it was best to keep your relationship hidden from Percy and, for that matter, most of the camp. Close friends, such as Clarisse and Chris, knew, but that was only because you went on frequent double dates with the pair. But that doesn’t mean others didn’t bat an eye at your overly friendly relationship. You had almost been caught multiple times, despite Luke being the son of Hermes, who was known for his sly nature. 

The first time it happened was entirely Luke's fault. You and him had just finished archery training and were walking to lunch, where the rest of camp resided. As soon as you approached the bustling picnic tables, you were dragged off by the Aphrodite kids, who wanted your help with some fashion emergencies. That left Luke with Chris and Percy, along with some other campers from Hermes cabin.  -

“How was archery?” Asked an unclaimed kid, who Luke had little interaction with. They had small talk every once in a while, but not enough for him to know any personal details about his life.

“It was fine. You know, my girlfrie-“

Luke was lucky looks couldn’t kill, because with the way Percy and Chris were staring at him, he would have been six feet under already. He tried his best to salvage the situation, continuing on as if nothing had happened.

“My friend hit three bullseyes in a row. It was really impressive.” He finished, staring down as he pushed around his mushy broccoli with a flimsy spork, hoping to avoid the glares of his, let's face it, practically brother-in-law. Lucky for him, Percy shrugged it off, and the topic was quickly changed. 

-

The second time, however, was most certainly your mistake.

-

The dull light from the moon provided little protection from the consuming jet black sky. You and Luke had to sneak out after hours often, which was one of the major downsides to a private relationship.

“No!” You playfully shouted, trying to juke him out as you ran through the rocky sand of the shoreline. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), your boyfriend was the most athletic kid on camp. He easily caught you before throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to the navy blue lake. 

You gently punched his back through strained laughter, gasping for oxygen. But as he attempted to step into the cold winter waters, you used your powers to manipulate the sea so it avoided his path. And with one quick swoop of your hand, he was drenched with the cooling solution, and you remained dry. 

He set you down, aggressively shaking the water from his head. “I forgot you were like the princess of the sea.” He said. Your harmonious giggles caused him to grin from ear to ear. 

“Yeah, maybe not the best choice on your end. C’mon, Percy probably has a shirt for you.” You replied, interlocking your fingers and skipping back to your cabin. 

You sneakily creaked the door open, hand over your mouth to try and hush the laughs that spilled out. Percy was sound asleep, snoring softly as you made your way to his dresser, rummaging through the array of neon orange shirts.

“Here. Mr. D gave him the wrong size by accident a while ago.” You whispered toward him before dragging him back out with the fabric still in hand. Once outside, he slid his soaking shirt off, carefully placing it next to your clothes that hung on the drying line. After giving him the t-shirt, you kissed him goodnight and headed back to get some much-needed sleep.

The next day, Percy awoke you with violent shakes, causing you to twist and groan with confusion.

“Get up. It’s like eight already. Don’t you have counselor activities to tend to too?” He said.

You shot up in a panic, staring down at the clock that read 8:03 a.m., almost 20 minutes after your morning duties. With an exasperated sigh, you slipped out of bed and rushed to grab a clean t-shirt from outside. 

Still dazed, you grabbed a familiar shirt off the clothing line and rushed back inside, quickly changing in hopes of escaping Chiron’s anger for your unpunctuality. 

While you happened to make it to breakfast on time, you failed to notice how unusually long the shirt was or how the tag on the back had the initials “L.C.” loosely scribbled on them. However, everyone else noticed your strange outfit. 

“Whose shirt is that? Why is it so big?” Percy was immediately questioned as you sat down with your food tray in hand.

“What do you mean?" You asked, glancing back down at your lengthy attire, before realizing your mistake. “Oh! I spilled something on my only clean shirt, so I borrowed that old one from you. Sorry.” You salvaged, and others seem to believe you. 

You made eye contact with Luke from across the table, growing flustered instantly due to the anxiety-inducing incident.

-

The third and final time might have been your fault, too. But by then, the two of you were fed up of keeping it secret.

-

“Awe, look at the little lovebirds!” 

Clarisse voiced as she shakily pointed a digital camera towards Luke and you, who were engaged in your own conversation.

Gorgeous flowers blossomed around the couple, ranging in various colors and sizes. Laughs rang through the air as Chris, Clarisse, Luke, and you all hung out one hazy camp afternoon. 

You looked up at the girl, smiling brightly as you twirled a pink flower in your palm. Grabbing Luke’s jaw with your soft, freshly manicured hands and turning his head to look in their direction, Chris pulled out a Polaroid camera, snapping a photo of the teens. 

As the black picture slid out of the small box, Chris handed it to Clarisse, who shook it with force in order to see the image fully.

“Do you want me to take one of you two?” You asked, snatching the camera from Chris’s hands and pointing it towards them. 

They posed, and the photo turned out super cute. You stared down at your frilly ruffle socks that stuck out of your high-top navy blue Converse. The toes of the shoes had been decorated with the signatures of all of your friends.

“It’s getting late; wanna head back?” Chris suggested the others let out a groan. He was right; they had camp duties to attend to, but being wrapped in their loved one’s embrace was so much more appealing.

You hopped up reluctantly, Luke grabbing your hand as you took the scenic route back to the cabins, the other couple straying a different way.

“I love going out with them.” You declared, breaking the silence and dramatically swinging your intertwined arms.

“Me too. It makes me feel like we’re just regular people.” He responded, smiling at her with such genuineness.

“Maybe in another universe.” You replied, sighing as you let out a light giggle.

“Speaking of which,” you continued. “Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?”

“Duh. We’re probably Gwen and Spiderman in one.” 

“Totally.” They grinned, enjoying the comfort they brought each other in the chaos that was their life.

After hours of training, you slipped back into Cabin 3, taking the photo out of your back pocket and placing it on your bed. You smiled at the sweet situation before Luke burst in, calling you to the bonfire. Obliviously, the Polaroid was left open on your bed, exposed to the world.

You basked in the warmth of Apollo’s kids songs, zoned out while mindlessly swaying to the beat of the guitar. Luke, who was sitting beside you, noticed you staring off into space and questioned it.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

“I wanna tell Percy about us.” You replied, looking into his eyes to detect his emotions. He seemed surprised at first, but his expression changed to one more supportive a few seconds later. 

“I agree. I mean, he might try to literally drown me, but I hate lying to him.”

“Me too.” You finished, turning back to face the singer. However, you instead met eyes with a furious-looking Percy, holding a small black rectangle in his hands. Your heart stopped, and you leaped up to rush and explain, Luke following behind. The young blond stormed off in the other direction.

“Percy, please listen. We couldn’t tell you because we knew how you’d react. I know you’re protective and all, and I love that about you, but Luke's a good guy, and we both know that.” You started, praying to the gods that this would work out. 

“I barely even know him!“ Percy lied straight through his teeth, trying to come up with a rational reason for his anger. 

“Are you kidding? You’ve known him for a year now.” You sassed back.

“How long have you been dating?” He threw away his last point, knowing he had already lost that argument.

“Three months, I think.” You whispered out, ashamed.

“Three months, and you didn’t think to let me, your little brother, know?” He screamed, speed-walking back to his cabin, irritated. 

You let out a sigh, facing Luke. Sadness coated your glossy eyes before seeping out onto your cheeks. Your boyfriend was quick to wipe the tears with his calloused thumb, comforting you.

“Hey, he’ll come around eventually. Let him sleep it off.” He whispered, embracing you in a tight hug. You buried your head into the crook of his neck, clamping your eyes shut.

As the sun rose the next morning and Percy stepped out of the cabin, you and Luke were waiting outside, prepared with a whole spiel about your relationship. To your astonishment, he greeted you with a smile and spoke up first.

“I’m sorry about last night. While I think this whole concept of you dating Luke is insane, he’s probably the best it’s going to get, so I approve.” You smiled back, a sigh of relief escaping your throat. 

“And I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. It’s just-“ 

“Don’t. It’s fine, really. Just absolutely no PDA in front of me.” Percy stated, a look of disgust appeared as he said the last sentence. Both of you agreed to his simple terms.

“I’ve gotta go to the arena. I’ll see you later.” Luke declared, and you nodded, ruffling your fingers through his curls before he departed. Once he was a solid distance away, Percy leaned in and whispered to you.

“Really? Luke Castellan? That's the best you could do?”

୨୧

MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

[ahmadalashi]

I’m Ahmed, and the war we’re living through has changed everything in my life. My mother is sick and has a heart device that requires special care and medication, but the medicine is either unavailable or insanely expensive. There are days when I’m just trying to get her the medicine she needs or even drinkable water. The situation is really tough—food is scarce, and the water we drink isn’t even clean.

Every day, we move from place to place looking for safety, but safety doesn’t exist here. The nights are filled with the sound of bombings, and sleep feels like a distant dream. My mother is in pain, and I feel powerless. I don’t have enough money to get her the treatment she needs or even basic things. The war has taken everything from us, and for now, the only thing I can do is stay by her side and try to survive day by day.

We are living a tragedy, and I wish the people outside could understand what we’re going through and help us in any way they can.

vetted by @90-ghost

#war #survival #healthcrisis #humanity #helpthem #warstories #motherandson #struggles

@shadesof-cool-blr @quotemadness @triptrippy @yourlocaltrashpandasblog @crimson-chains @cheezbot @breadclipp @meaganfoskin @elstreem @tododeku-or-bust @yourlocaltrashpandasblog @gaza-evacuation-funds @gazavetters @gaza @erradoliteralmente @venus-is-in-bloom @meaganfoskin @a-shade-of-blue

[yandere-3-sagau]

Yandere!SAGAU x Secret!Creator!Reader Part 2.5

Short Summary: After encountering a group of hilichurls on your way to Inazuma, you discover the benefits that come with being the creator of Teyvat. (i couldn’t sleep so i decided to keep my flow of thoughts going.)

characters: Xiao

warning(s): blood, violence, heart attack, ooc characters, xiao being weird

Previous | Next

─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *.☽ .* : ✧.───

You’re on your way to the harbor, pushing Grandpa Fuyi in his wheelchair. The grass crunches beneath your feet as you put a bit more force in pushing him. The two of you travel on the outskirts of the town away from the dirt path that leads to the main town.

Not long ago, a deep feeling told you that if you were to enter through the main town you’d definitely run into Zhongli. Just the thought of it sent shivers down your spine. To avoid being seen, you decided to take a detour.

As you’re walking, you see a group of hilichurls resting with their weapons laid by their side. You slow your pace, being very careful with your movements…but as your eyes scan the area, you feel your heart drop in your chest. Not far from the group of hilichurls, you see the large figure resting against a tree beside them… a mitachurl.

It’s your first time ever coming across one and even from a distance away you can tell how large they really are. Their size in real life is incomparable to the size you’ve seen on your screen. The sheer size of the monster makes you freeze in your tracks. Sweaty hands tightening on the handles of Grandpa Fuyi’s wheelchair, you slowly begin to back away. However, the squeak of the wheels, albeit quiet, is enough to wake them.

They, jump up, alert. Their eyes immediately turn to the two of you, snarls echoing into the air. The mitachurl wakes as well, the ground shaking as it jumps up. Their loud roars wake Grandpa Fuyi up. He realizes the situation you are in and you can feel how hard he’s shaking through the handles of the wheel chair. You too, are filled with terror, not only in fear of your life but for Grandpa Fuyi’s.

Despite his fear, he yells at you.

“R..Run… run away!” His voice finally snaps you out of your trance and you quickly begin to wheel him away as fast as you can. But your pace isn’t fast enough and Grandpa Fuyi knows this as well.

“Child… leave me…”

Your eyes widen and when you process his words, a tear falls from down your cheek. The glittering crystal falls to the ground as you continue running.

“No!” you tell him. Your voice is shaky, a stark difference to Grandpa Fuyi’s which is surprisingly steady. It’s as if he’s accepted his fate.

“It’s alright… I’ve lived long en-“ you interrupt him immediately.

“Are you insane?!”

You keep on running. You hear a low hiss in the air and you stumble, cursing when you feel a sharp pain in your back. You head twists, glancing down behind you to see golden blood dripping from your clothing and an arrow sticking out from your lower back.

Your pace slows from the pain, sweat dripping down your face. You can hear the footsteps grow louder and the ground shakes heavily from the mitachurl’s stomps. A slight turn of the head tells you that it’s too late to run as the mitachurl has caught up.

Unable to run any longer, the gears in your head turn fast as you think of way to get out of the situation. The mitachurl is only a few feet away from you, your body now filled with adrenaline.

The mitachurl swings his club, you can feel the wind as it comes down towards the two of you. As a last attempt to protect him, you shield Grandpa Fuyi with your hands up, hoping to take the majority of the blow.

Just as you feel the club collide with your arm, a golden light blinds you. The light clears and all of a sudden you see the monsters launched away from you, slamming into the ground, their bodies slowly disappearing.

Who… who saved us?

Your eyes scan the surrounding area for your hero, until you realize that it’s only you and Grandpa Fuyi. Realization sets in and you stare at your hands in shock.

Did I… was it me?

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you hear Granda Fuyi gasping. You turn to see him grasping at his chest. It seems like the weight of the situation finally weighed down on him as his face is scrunched up in pain.

“My chest…” you kneel by his side, eyes wide. You panic once more, not knowing what to do. He’s having a heart attack.

Amongst your racing thoughts, an idea flashes in your head.

I-I’m the creator, you think.

You stare at your hands before placing them on his chest. A few seconds pass and nothing happens. Grandpa Fuyi’s groans of pain continue, frail hands clawing at your hands on his chest.

Your pillar, the one person to help you, is dying and you can’t do anything about it. Your hands shake, tears falling down. The tears harden into crystals, some bouncing off onto the floor, the others piling onto his legs as you lean over him. Grandpa Fuyi is too dizzy from the intense pain that he doesn’t even notice.

The time you spent together flashes through your head. You think of the times he helped you, the times he stayed awake late at night to comfort you when you couldn’t sleep from the fear of unfamiliarity. His kind smile and his corny jokes that took you a while to even understand.

As you’re lost in your thoughts with your crystal tears still steaming, a small light suddenly flashes from where your hands are placed against his chest. Letting out a gasp, you wait for the light to die down.

Grandpa Fuyi begins to relax and his eyes flutter shut. Your heart drops in your chest. It isn’t until you hear the soft sounds of his breathing that you realize he’s fine. You let out a cry of relief, resting your head on his knee.

Finally, you start to calm down and your breathing evens out. However, as the adrenaline leaves your body, the pain starts to sink in. You reach for your back, flinching as you feel the wooden arrow stick out. You curse, unsure of what to do. You know if you pull it out, blood will rush out like a champagne bottle with the cork popped off… but if you try and get help, your identity as the creator will be revealed.

Your eyes squeeze shut for a moment before you open them and grab a shirt from your bag. You rip the shirt into strips and roll up one of the strips into ball. With a deep exhale, you reach for the arrow, hoping for the best. Your hands pause, scared of the pain that is soon to come. However, with no other options, you force yourself to build up courage.

Finally, you rip it out, the pain of your skin tearing causing you to cry out. You can feel the blood pour out of you so you quickly press the cloth ball to your back and apply pressure to the wound. You wince and bite your lip to silence the scream you want to let out. Using the other strips from the ripped up shirt, you clumsily wrap the wound as best you can.

Finally finished, you let out a sigh, the pain still radiating from your body. After a bit, you realize you’re still out in the open with the sun almost completely set. The danger starts to sink in again, so you stand up, ignoring the pain. You wipe your hands, thankful for your black clothes that hide the golden blood stains before rushing Grandpa Fuyi to the harbor. As you rush, you forget to clean up the crystal tears and puddle of golden blood you left behind from the disaster you just experienced.

Filled with desperation and the need to leave Liyue, you don’t notice the figure standing on a hill not far from you, watching as you leave.

—

Xiao was doing his nightly rounds when he heard the echoing stomps of a mitachurl. He quickly rushed over to the danger, spear grasped tightly in his hand.

He arrived just as the mitachurl attacked you. Xiao cursed, seeing the mitachurl’s club collide with your arm, thinking he’s too late.

However, he’s shocked by the golden light that erupts from your form, knocking back the monsters and destroying them with a bright flash.

Xiao’s feet are locked in place as he finally takes a good look at you. At the golden liquid that seeps from your body and the crystal tears that pile on the ground. His heart is pounding in his chest so hard, he swears he can hear it.

Is he hallucinating?

He’s trying to make sense of what he saw but by the time his racing thoughts slow down, you’re gone.

Dazed and unsure of reality, he slowly shuffles over to the place you were just at, the scent of blood growing stronger as he draws near. Xiao drops to his knees beside the puddle of blood and tears. His hands shakily touch the heap you left behind. A choked gasp leaves his mouth as looks at the warm, golden liquid on his hands. Just by touching it, Xiao feels like his karmic debt has somehow lessened just a bit.

It’s you… it’s really you…

He’s delirious, unable to control his actions as his hands scoop up more of your blood, bringing it close to his face as if he wants to cover himself with the proof of your existence.

Xiao wrestles back his self control and his rationality returns. Though he’s able to calm down, the need to see you remains. Xiao jumps up to his feet, ready to chase after you but he stops in place.

What would he say to you?

That he knows you’re the creator?

What would you think of him?

Surely you’d be disappointed with him for not coming in time to stop you from getting hurt. Xiao doesn’t think he can handle it if he saw you stare at him with disappointment. Just the thought of it makes his heart clench.

Although he’s reluctant, he fights the urge to follow you. It takes a while and several deep breaths but he’s able to tame his impulsiveness. Now, somewhat calm, he bends over to collect your tears, very carefully placing them in his pocket like they’re his most prized possession. After collecting your tears, Xiao leaves, intending to share the news of your arrival with the other adepti.

—

You arrive at the harbor, breathing heavily. Grandpa Fuyi is still fast asleep. With a slight limp from the pain, you go around asking each of the ship members which boat you can take to Inazuma. However, each of the ship members give you the same answer.

The only ship leaving for Inazuma is the Crux. Despite it be being black, your clothes are still soaked with golden blood. You’re unsure if you can handle the chance of meeting both Beidou and Kazuha without them noticing anything. You want to give up but the radiating pain from your wound fills you with a sense of urgency that forces you to accept.

That’s how you find yourself in the lowest deck of the Crux, surrounded by sleeping ship members. Grandpa Fuyi lays on a cot by your side, not once waking up from his deep sleep.

You wait for a while, making sure every one is asleep before heading to the small bathroom. There, you take the time to thoroughly tend to your wound as well as wash out the golden blood from your clothes. As the last of it slips down the drain, you stare at yourself in the mirror, thinking back to all of the events that occurred.

You start to wonder, what other powers do you have?

You decide to experiment. Thinking back to aspects of the game, your thoughts land on one of the most useful devices… waypoints. The traveler is able to use waypoints to go anywhere they want in Teyvat. Deciding to put your powers to the test, you think of a place you want to go to. You rule out Inazuma, since the Crux is already on its way there.

Still unsure of any limits you may have to your powers, you decide on somewhere nearby, hoping that if it does work, you’ll still have enough juice to teleport back. Although you feel a bit wary on entering Liyue again, there’s a part of you that doubts the teleportation would even work.

This doubt allows you to close your eyes and concentrate. Your mind forms the image in your head and you feel a sudden rush of power. When you open your eyes, you’re exactly where you imagined, inside the Wangshu Inn.

You smile widely, excited over having discovered a very useful power.

“Y… Your grace,” a voice full of wonder calls out to you from behind. Your head snaps to the side, all excitement draining just as quickly as it came.

Xiao’s yellow eyes are wet as if he’s about to cry. A loud thud reaches your ears as he drops onto his knees in front of you. Ever since he saw you, your image was constantly on his mind. Because of your sudden appearance, he thinks that truly heard him, his desire to see you so deep that you decided to answer his prayers. His eyes are filled with an intense admiration and a twisted sense of worship.

“I-I… It’s an honor-“

“Fuck.”

Previous | Next

[pretty-little-mind33]

bsfd!James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: You'd kept your relationship with James a secret up until you couldn't anymore. Pt. 2 of Lavender Haze (might wanna read or you'll probably be confused <3)

Genre: Angsty hurt and comfort (smut-ish)

Warnings: fictional age-gap relationship (20f, 40m), heavy making out (fingering), swearing, getting caught, slut shaming, very angry!harry, protective!james

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

James sends you a look from across the room, the look, and your heart pounds. He is in the middle of a conversation with Remus Lupin, your old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and you suddenly find it very hard to concentrate on the conversation you're supposedly having with Hermione.

Three months. Your relationship with James had managed to stay a secret for three months, and you honestly don't know how.

"And so—Y/n? Are you even listening?" Hermione asks, looking at you suspiciously. Ron's arm is draped over her shoulders as he talks with Harry—and Harry, who is holding Ginny's hand.

You look at your friends. Fuck, you think, you must look so pathetically alone.

You answer Hermione quickly, "No, I'm sorry. I am listening," you smile and sneak a glance at James again. Huge mistake considering he's still wearing that look on his face; the one you've learned to read oh so well.

"Actually, I have to use the loo," you mutter, standing up. Hermione frowns, but she doesn't say a thing as you walk down the hallway.

When you reach the small bathroom, you open it and then shut it behind you quietly. You sit on the toilet, nails in your mouth as you wait. A few moments later, the door opens and someone way too familiar slides in. You stand. You feel like the air inside your chest has been ripped from you when he turns and your eyes meet his.

"Funny, it always starts with a bathroom," James jokes in a whisper, causing you to smile. In seconds, his lips are on yours, and he's hoisting you onto the tiny sink. "Bloody hell," he mutters when you subconsciously run your hand up and down his chest, clutching at his shirt.

"I missed you," you pout.

"You talked to me barely thirty minutes ago," he chuckles, "When you kicked my ass in wizard's chess, remember?"

"Yeah, but I mean I missed you like this," you say with a smirk and start to unbutton his shirt. "Mine," you clarify and kiss his cheek quickly. James smiles and dips his head as he nibbles on your exposed shoulder.

"Yours," he whispers and then continues in one breath, "You drive me absolutely insane, dressed in this mini dress," his hand rides the side of your dress up your thighs and then his hand reaches your middle. He looks at you sternly, and you send him a small wink, "No panties? What a naughty girl."

"Only for you," you moan and arch a little when you feel him suddenly ease one finger into you. Just one. One torturous finger that he teases you with. "James," you moan, holding onto his wrist and almost begging him to do something.

Just as his lips attach themselves to your neck and he begins to caress your clit, the latch to the bathroom lock suddenly clicks and the door opens. James's head snaps up too quickly, and he accidentally hits you in the nose. You yelp in pain.

"Dad?" Harry's voice cuts through the tension, and your stomach drops. Immediately, your arms cross over your chest as James spins around and shields you behind him.

"Merlin, get away from her!" Harry suddenly screams out and yanks his father out of the bathroom and into the small hallway.

Adjusting your dress, you rush to follow them and try to explain the situation. "Harry, it's okay! I wanted him," you blurt out as an attempt to calm Harry's anger, but it only makes the entire situation so much worse.

"You wanted my dad!?" Harry screams, and everyone in the living room turns their attention to you three. Your cheeks turn warm, and you're frozen in place. Harry looks distraught, while the guests just look confused, and you want to cry.

"Don't yell at her," James says firmly and frees himself from his son's grasp. He holds Harry's shoulder, taking on a more authoritative parental tone, "Calm down."

Harry just looks more furious. "You're fucking my best friend, and you're telling me to calm down?!!" he accuses, and your tears fall uncontrollably. "She's too young for you, you disgusting pervert," he insults his father as he slaps James's hand away from him.

James looks a mix of ashamed and annoyed. "Harry," he starts, but he's completely taken aback by the punch Harry lands on his cheek. Scared, you rush to James's side without thinking and clutch onto his arm.

"And you," Harry's murderous gaze lands on you this time, and he walks up, causing you to stumble back. "You fucking slut," he hisses, his words a little slurred from the drinks he'd had and full of anger even as Ginny's hand finds his to calm him down.

You feel like you've been punched. You know what you did was wrong—you know Harry has every right to be furious with you—but still, his words hurt.

"Oi!" James's voice booms and he grasps Harry's shoulder again, pushing him away from you. "Do not speak to her like that, you hear me?" he sounds stern, and he looks around the room at everyone staring, then at Harry.

"Take a walk outside. Now," James demands, and his gaze flickers to Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, silently asking them to bring Harry to the garden and have him take a few breaths.

You stand to the side, still crying as the world moves around you in slow motion. James's friends take this as a sign to leave, sending you sympathetic smiles as if they already knew anyway, but you don't focus on that as you lean against the wall and anxiously chew at your nails until blood drips from your finger.

"Hey," James whispers, his hand finding yours, and he brings your bleeding finger to his lips, sucking the blood to soothe you. "It's okay."

You shake your head. "No, it isn't okay, James."

James's shoulders tense, and he moves his hand to the side of your face. "Hey, shh, pretty girl, we wanted them all to know at some point, right?" he reminds you, alluding to the many late-night conversations you'd had over the last three months—conversations you assumed would always remain in the confines of James's bedroom.

You look up at James, and he looks deadly serious.

"Right?" he asks again, gently holding your cheeks in his hands as his thumb wipes away your tears.

You nod, and James rewards you with a kiss on your forehead. "Yeah, there's my good girl," he mutters and holds your cheek, kissing your cheek again. "He'll be fine," James says softly, mentioning Harry. You tense.

"He's my best friend," you whisper. "I don't want to lose him."

James runs his fingers through your hair. "You are not gonna lose him, my darling," he says, but he doesn't sound as sure as he'd like, and you can tell.

James decides he should speak to Harry first, which means you're left sitting on the couch in the living room, biting your nails until you draw blood while James is with his son in the garden.

"How long?" Ron speaks up, his voice strained and high-pitched. He's sitting on the floor across from you with Hermione, her hand in his lap. Ginny stands in the corner of the room, her arms crossed.

"Three months," you sniff and quickly add, "I didn't mean for this to happen—"

"Three months is an awfully long time, Y/n," Hermione interrupts, "and you didn't think to tell Harry?"

"He deserved to know," Ginny's voice sounds strained. She's clearly upset that her boyfriend is upset. It's understandable; you can't blame her.

"Of course I did! But, what was I supposed to say?" you exclaim, "Please, tell me, what's worse? - 'Hey, Harry, I’m fucking your dad,' or 'Hey, Harry, I'm in love with your dad?'"

The room instantly turns silent.

"In love?"

Your chest heaves. You bury your face in your hands. "Yeah," you squeak. "I don't know how it happened, it just did. And these feelings, I can't turn them off," you say, looking up at your friends. "I've tried," you add in a whisper.

Hermione looks understanding while Ginny grumbles something under her breath. She still isn't happy. Ron looks confused, but he decides against making a comment because Hermione is drawing soothing circles around his palm as a silent warning.

After a few moments longer, James walks into the room from the garden and he looks around the room at everyone. He looks a little exhausted, but he doesn't look sad or angry. He focuses his attention on you, smiling a little as he walks over and takes your hand, lifting you up. No one else speaks as they hold their breaths.

"Harry wants to talk to you," James informs you, his voice low. You can tell he wants to press a reassuring kiss to your forehead, but he's holding himself back. He chooses to squeeze your hand instead, nodding his head to the back door. You look at him, unsure, but you drop his hand anyway and walk to the door.

It's a warm evening, so when you walk outside onto the grass, you aren't very cold in your dress. Still, you wrap your arms around yourself for comfort and security as your heart sinks when you see Harry sitting on the cement steps, his hands in his hair. He hears you and looks behind him, not protesting when you sit next to him.

You feel the air on your skin as your mind races, and you think of something to say to him that doesn't sound stupid.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry breaks the tension, his voice strained.

There is that question again.

You pick nervously at your nails and answer honestly. "What could I have said to you to make this better?" you whisper.

"So you know it's fucked up," Harry deadpans.

Your eyes widen, and you bite your lip, holding your knees. "I mean, yes. I know it's not exactly ideal—but, I love him, Harry. I really love him, and I didn't mean for it to happen, it just—happened. I know I should have told you, but I didn't know how."

Harry is silent as he takes in your words. He's picking at his jeans, his jaw clenched. "You're my best friend, and he's my dad. It's messed up."

Your heart sinks.

"I– I don't want to lose you, Harry. And I can't lose him either. Please don't make me choose," you say, holding in tears, and for the first time, Harry looks at you and his gaze travels across your features.

"You'd choose him, wouldn't you?" Harry whispers, his voice shaky, "Because you love him, and he loves you. Bloody hell, he'd choose you over me too."

I shake my head. "Harry, no. Your dad loves you more than anyone. I don't think he'd choose me over you. No matter how much he loves me, he's always your dad first. If you gave him the ultimatum and said you didn't want him to date me, I think he would listen."

Harry sighs, shaking his head. "I'm not gonna do that, Y/n. We're adults. I'm not a kid anymore, and I can handle you dating my dad—or I will be able handle it with time—and I just wish someone would have told me because finding you like that in the bathroom was traumatizing."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," you say quickly.

His expression turns serious again. "Promise me this wasn't a thing when we were in school because I—"

You cut him off and laugh. "Oh my god, no! Never! I know he didn't see me like that when we were younger, Harry. I promise. This is completely new, and I would never be with him if he had seen me like that as a kid," you say seriously.

"Yeah, he said the same," Harry says, and he sounds like he's made up his mind. His jaw ticks and he takes your hand as he pulls you in for a hug. You can still feel his apprehension around the situation but you can't complain.

"Listen, you're my best friend and as my best friend, all I want is your happiness but I need time. Time to wrap my head around all this—oh and I also need you to promise never to talk about anything that has to do with my dad in front of me?"

"I pinky swear," you say instantly, having no desire to have Harry know anything about your relationship with James.

Harry links pinkies with you and he seems satisfied by your answer. He stands to walk inside and you shake your head, silently telling him you want to stay outside a little longer. Harry nods his head and disappears into the house.

After a few minutes, your arms wrapped around your knees as you stare into the dimming light, you sense someone sitting beside you.

It's James. You can smell his cologne.

He turns and rests one hand on your knee, smiling when you lean into him instinctively. "Hi, lovely," he mumbles, moving you inside his side. "You did so good," he continues and kisses your cheek. "I love you. Everything is gonna be okay, mhm. Harry's gonna be fine." James reassures you.

You nod, feeling comforted by James's warmth, and you let out a relieved sigh.

"I like not having to hide anymore," you admit, your hands finding James's as you mindlessly play with his fingers. "It's nice."

James hums. "It is, isn't it?"

"Yeah," you look into his eyes and smile, "I really like it."

James's heart skips, and he leans down, capturing your lips in his for a moment, and all feels okay again.

[masterfuldoodler]

I went so insane drawing this. I was having the best time ever, I had to pause so often to freak out at my own art xD and then there is the pain. My friends knew everytime I sat down to draw the end (the last five pages) I plagued them dsbknfh

I even made a playlist for specifically this.

The End of All

I've been brainstorming the final confrontation of the keepers. Tehvlar has finished recreating his body into fully chaos and is mostly dead at this point. It starts as Rhyin and Tehvlar's reunion and spirals out of control.

[m1ngyuism]

lets talk about mingyu’s canine teeth gOOD LORD imagine breastfeeding him and his canines add more both pleasure and pain as you pump his cock and play with his slit :(

anon..... i love you this is insane

mingyu doesn't even know that his canines are grazing against your sensitive tits because he's far too lost in the moment, eyes glazed over and all he can focus on is how insanely hot the whole situation is.

he just about loses it when you start pumping his hard cock, groaning into your chest and sucking down just a bit harder when your fingers graze over his slit.

deep moans and pretty whines echo across your quiet living room, accompanied by both your heavy pants for air the longer your sinful actions continue.

mingyu's lips are swollen, your tits glistening in his spit as he trails his tongue over your nipples again and again.

his hair's tousled and tangled with you tugging on it, your hand a mess thanks to mingyu's leaking cock, both your eyes rolled back in pleasure.

it feels so good but it's definitely not enough - not enough with the way mingyu's cock throbs in your hands and the way he hisses when you play with his slit.

not enough with the way your panties are completely soaked through and the way your whines are getting higher and higher in pitch by the minute.

it's only late into the night when mingyu has fucked you absolutely senseless on his cock, your body covered in his cum and his with your scratches when it's finally enough.

— hard gyu hours ; open.

© m1ngyuism, 2024.

[thebigbadbatswife]

The Softest Touch

Pairing(s) - Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Summary - “Can I touch you?” It’s such a simple question and yet it has the Dark Knight melting down to the core.

Warnings - Implied sexual harrasment, Canon-typical violence, Angst, Injuries, Hopeful ending. (If I missed anything, lmk!)

A/N - A bit of a different take on Bruce than what I typically write. Maybe it's because I've been in more of an angsty mood than fluffy/smutty recently, but, anyway, hope you all enjoy! 💜

Word Count - 784

Despite his reputation, Bruce hates being touched. It all started after that night in the alley. People hugging him and patting his back, touches that he never asked for or wanted. People constantly invading his personal space. And the older he got, the worse it became. Hands touching him where he doesn’t want them to, but having to play into it to keep his image up to stop anyone from finding out how he actually spends his nights. It’s not like anyone could ever believe a playboy of his status would ever truly hate the feeling of hands on his body anyway.

His nights aren’t much better. Blow after blow being dealt to his body, pain radiating across every inch. Fists, bats, crowbars, bullets and explosions. The latter leaving him dazed. The ground rushing to meet him far more than it should for any one person. The smell of smoke caught in his nose and the sounds of people suffering filling his ears, along with a high pitched ringing, as he perches upon some rubble, slowly gathering his bearings so that he can move on and straight into the next fight.

“Can I touch you?” The question is so simple and asked so softly that it catches him completely off guard.

How long has it been since someone actually asked him if it was okay to touch him? Hell, has anyone ever asked him? In truth, with the blood that runs through his veins and the name he carries, the way the vultures watch him, waiting to tear him apart and that nightmare he lived in the alley, he has never really had a choice in much of anything. And in situations where he thought he did, all he has are memories of someone he thought he could trust taking what they wanted from him and leaving him to deal with the aftermath. 

Yet, here you are. Asking him if you can touch him. Offering him a choice, something he’s almost certain he’s never had before. 

He eyes you for a moment, swallowing thickly, before finally nodding as he doesn’t trust his voice. He watches you closely as your gloved fingers come up to cup his face, your eyes completely focused on the gash along his jawline. You handle him with such care as you move his head upwards to get a better look, it would be easy to think that he’s made of the finest china instead of a hardened vigilante. 

It leaves a warmth blooming in his chest that he knows for sure that he’s never felt it before. It almost has him wanting to lean into your touch. Almost. 

You pull away to rummage through your kit, pulling out some alcohol, gauze and a large bandaid. “Sorry, but this is going to sting.” You’re so sweet thinking that the stinging from some alcohol cleaning his wound will cause him more pain or discomfort than the world has already given to him. Far too sweet for him.

Fuck. He has to look away from you lest his suit becomes even more uncomfortable than it already is. Not that you would even be able to tell. It’s insanity that just the smallest bit of kindness has him feeling like this. It leaves him wondering if he’s been drugged again. Throughout the years he has gone through so much. Shot, stabbed, poisoned, drugged, his back broken and his heart ripped out multiple times. Yet your careful and gentle touch has impacted him far more than any of those other blows ever could. 

You’re being so careful with him. Treating him like he’s actually worth something. 

He wonders what his life might have been like if you had crossed paths with him earlier. What kind of man he might have become. Before he came back to an empty manor, a hastily written letter and an abandoned diamond ring. Before he damned and chained himself to a hell of his own making. Would he have been a better man? A good man, like his father? A doctor instead of a vigilante stuck in this perpetual cycle of violence he’s cursed himself with? 

Would he be someone who is actually deserving of your kindness and care? 

He doesn’t know and he knows that he never will know. What ifs are a bad thing to dwell upon, but he knows one thing. It’s a feeling deep within his gut. He would have still found you. He still would have met your soft touch. Drawn towards you like a moth is drawn towards a flame. He would still feel like an honourable and good man beneath your touch.

And he only has one question for you.

“What’s your name?”

[cryptidghostgirl]

Make You Wish (Alastor x Reader) Chapter One -- Seven Years

Pairing: Alastor x Reader (Hazbin Hotel)

Warnings: Um, language?????? no gore in tis one. Tbh, this chapter is pretty chill.

Word Count: 1,278

Master List Links:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I'm back from the dead. Hi.

"Love you... Bye." Charlie hung up the phone.

Quietly, she slipped back inside the hotel, shutting the door behind her. Things had not gone as planned today and they had not gone well either. She wanted this hotel to work, more than anything in the world she wanted to do what she could for her people. At the same time, it was hard not to feel hopeless after the mess on TV earlier and the lack of response from her mother. Letting out a protected sigh, she shut her eyes, leaning against the door.

As soon as Charlie's back hit the stained glass paneling, there came a quiet knock. Opening her eyes, she pulled herself from the door and tentatively turned towards it. Hope and a twinge of fear battled for control of Charlie as, at the sound of the person knocking a second time, she opened the door.

"Hel-"

Charlie shut the door right in the Radio Demon's face. Brow furrowed with confusion, doubt at what she had seen obscuring her mind, she opened it again.

"-lo!"

Charlie shut the door once again. Turning slowly, her eyes wide and her mind whirling, she headed into the main sitting area of the lobby.

"Hey Vaggie?" Charlie called for her girlfriend as she entered.

"What?" Vaggie asked, throwing her head over the back of the couch she was resting on as she did so, meeting Charlie's anxious eyes.

"The Radio Demon is at the door!" Charlie replied, her tone hiding nothing as she mocked the demon's well known smile, pointing back to the hotel entrance.

Vaggie straightened up immedeatly.

"What!" she exclaimed.

Angel, who was sitting on the couch beside her enjoying a popsicle, looked over in mild confusion. Shrugging, he decided he didn't really care and returned to his treat.

"What should I do?" Charlie practically begged.

"Well, don't let him in." Vaggie almost seemed more stressed by the situation than her girlfriend.

Charlie sighed, turning to look back at the door. Slowly, ignoring Vaggie's protests, she approached it once again. Steeling herself, Charlie opened the door.

"May I speak now?" the Radio Demon asked.

Charlie crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at him with an unamused expression.

"You may."

The speed with which the demon shot out his hand to shake her own took Charlie aback.

"Alastor." he announced, bowing so that they were eye to eye, "Pleasure to be meeting you. Yes, quite the pleasure."

--

Y/n's life had changed a lot in the past seven years. From the top of Hell to the bottom, her own personal fall. Not that she'd ever really been at the top, no. Just next to it. The spotlight had never really been her thing.

Hell had been Y/n's home for nearly seventy years. The picture perfect housewife gone mad. In life, she had secured her place after death in blood. Abusive didn't look good on her dearly departed husband after all and what was the point of life if not ridding out the rot to save the flowers?

Death had not come easily or without pain. After the police had caught her, she'd been found innocent for reason of insanity in the courts and sent to an asylum. No one seemed to want to hear or believe her part of the story. Just a year or so after her husband's death, she found peace through a failed lobotomy in 1955 and woke up to red skies.

Thankfully, Hell was large and inhabited enough that she never seemed to run into him down here. Y/n wasn't proud of what she had done in life, but she didn't regret it either. The truth was, she loved Hell. It was vibrant and lively. It was interesting. She had quickly found friends, moved up in the world. Then, the world had changed.

Seven years nearly to the day. Things had been rough at first, there was a new way in which she had had to learn to interact with the world around her. That was when she'd met Blitzo, in those early days of being on her own. Y/n would've thanked god but, god didn't come around these parts and far too many awful things had happened since then anyways but, she still saw their meeting as an odd sort of blessing. She had never been very good at being alone and he did save her, in a way. Even gave her a job at I.M.P., his business.

It was odd for a sinner to be working subservient to an imp in Hell, but not unheard of. Y/n got some looks on the street, sure. Some clients asked some rude questions and she wasn't technically allowed in the human realm but, neither were any of them really. Overall, she found her new life to be quite enjoyable, the good with the bad. Not as cushy or pleasant as her old life, but she saw no use in dwelling on any of that. It had been seven years, for heaven's sake. She couldn't hold out hope for something that would clearly never happen. Besides, she had always had a bit of a mean streak and the job helped deal with that.

She was a sinner, it was obvious. About a head taller than Blitzo, she was a 1950s dream: all movie star hair and legs. When he had first joined I.M.P. a few years ago, she'd even worn the dresses to match. Once they started getting actual jobs, once Blitzo had found a way to travel to the human realm, that had changed. Y/n had seen the fashions of the knew world and enjoyed them quite a bit.

Rings on five of ten fingers, heaps of necklaces, even a tattoo or two. She topped off the whole look with black cargo pants, tank tops, and a choker with spikes and a ring on it. It all went rather well with the attributes she'd acquired once arriving in hell.

She come off lucky in regards to changes in her body when she had died. When people fell into the pits, they received attributes that somehow related to the person they were on earth as well as how they died. Y/n had been harmless on the outside, and able to cause real harm if pushed to it. Docile and gentle, but angry. So she'd ended up like this, with little freckles and a white dots of various sizes marring her now grey skin. Sweet little horns perched on the top of her head, a thin forked tail, and sharp teeth when she was provoked. It made sense, if it was a bit stereotypical. Overall, she couldn't complain.

She had been lying in bed in the apartment she now shared with Blitzo and Loona when she'd felt it in her bones. It was an odd sort of shiver that went down her spine, a tingle at the back of her head. The world had changed again. Y/n didn't know how she knew that, or why, or even in what ways things had become different, but laying there in the dark, something shifted.

She sat up, looking out the window over the darkened landscape of pentagram city. Off in the distance, she could just barley make out the lights of the Princess of Hell's new passion project, some rehab center for sinners or something of the like. Y/n let out a sigh.

The last time she felt this way, her whole life had fallen apart. As she laid back down, she couldn't help but pray to whoever was listening it wouldn't be happening again.

----

Next Part -> Chapter Two -- Where Is She

[koishua]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 ━━━ 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

genre: angst.

length: less than 0.600k words

caution: a take on grief and loss of someone close to you.

synopsis: he dies twice, yet his heart still beats painfully.

special thanks to my beloved, the sexc sexc talented incredible brilliant showstopping user @torhues for biting the bullet and taste testing this for me!! mayhaps my brain twin, despite our opposing opinions on hee's suffering. confirmed this is the only genre i can write

feedback and reblogs are desperately craved <3

lee heeseung has died twice in the long and arduous twenty-two years of his life. once, he had died when he'd lost his voice, abandoned and left stranded in a world where all people ever expected from him was that exact thing. the second time— the second thing he'd lost— had been the greater piece of his being.

his first death was somehow less painful than the second. it had been quicker to mellow out, the pain easier to soothe when you were there. heeseung experienced his first death with you by his side, holding his hand and sharing his tears. dreams he'd built, the work of what seemed to be his entire life. his first death felt much like a bullet did. 

it burned, seared, bled and struck him faster than he could blink. the death of an artist's ability to create should have crippled him, and yet, it hadn't. you'd been right by him, held his wound and breathed air into him. you were his second life.

and you were, subsequently, his second death.

this one had hurt much more than the first. heeseung would come to describe this as the moment his heart and flesh had been ripped away from him, his soul following suit. that, however, would not be enough to describe how it truly felt. the second time was so, so much more than just a death.

this one, this one was not as merciful as the quick bullet that was the loss of his most beloved possession and passion. this death was a loss of his entire reason for living. this time, the pain hadn't ebbed away as easily. this time, the pain had settled deep inside his chest, an ache damned to stay there for as long as the heart buried inside of him would beat, no matter how cold and blue the blood that ran in his veins seemed. this pain would leave him paralyzed, the fight in him lost, not even bothering to claw for the air and oxygen his lungs desperately craved. 

his second death had suffocated him from inside out. still, his blood, cold and blue, continued to run through his veins and somehow still functioning heart. you were his second attempt at life and you were his second death. you still haunt the corners of his mind, still hold a hand on his throat, each thought of you making your ghostly grip on him tighten to the point where he nears the edge of no return (he doesn't fight you back— doesn't have the heart to, when all he wants is to follow where you've gone to).

lee heeseung had died twice in the twenty-two years of his life, but had never been able to live for the third time. how could he? he'd lost himself in the waves right after you'd left. years would pass by and he'd still wonder if up was down and down was up. he was a man, once with eyes that shone as bright as the stars you'd point out to him at night, who'd been reduced into someone you'd be heartbroken to see if you were around. lost between a plane where nothing but your touch, your lips, your smile, and your laugh existed and the colourless world that his body continued it's daily affairs in. eyes unseeing, skin unfeeling, ears unhearing— his second death took something much, much more precious to him than his life.

lee heeseung's second death had taken away his soul; you were so cruel for doing that to him.

[gothamite-rambler]

Jason may have a point here

Jason: Kill him.

Batman: No.

Jason (insistent): Kill him.

Batman: No.

Jason (angry): Kill him!

Batman (loud): No!

Joker: Can I kill myself to escape this nightmare of awkward father-son tension?

Jason and Batman: Shut up!

Jason: Ignore me, like you did when I died. What about the countless lives he’s taken? What about Barb? What about the hell he’s put all of us through for some sick joke? If you didn’t want to do it for those reasons, what about me? I wanted to ignore this, but he took me away from you! Why not vindicate me? I thought I was your son!

Joker: Guess you weren’t that close.

Jason smacked the Joker with the crowbar for the fifth time.

Jason: Shut. The. Fuck. Up! Back to you, B—Batman. When I saw the bomb tick down, I accepted it. I accepted my death with the assumption that when I died, you’d kill him. Then I wake up, and this monster is still alive. Why?

Batman: I’ve contemplated torturing the Joker in private. Making him feel pain from every nerve in his body, savoring the light leaving his eyes when I finally kill him. But I don’t want to go to that dark place… because that won’t fix crime. If I kill the Joker, I would be crossing a line I can’t come back from.

Jason (in disbelief): Stop joking.

Batman: I’m not.

Jason (tapping the gun on his leg): You have to be.

Batman (deadpan): When have I ever joked with you in this suit?

Jason: It’s not too late, because you can’t be serious. It literally would fix one thing… HIM! Because he’d be dead!

Joker: Can you tell me what type of torture methods you’d perform on me? I might need to use those later.

Jason pointed his gun at the Joker, showcasing how the crazy clown is only proving his point.

Batman: If I kill him, I would never return to who I was—the person I became to fight crime. I would kill the next one like him.

Jason: Then fucking do that! You can't be arrested. You’re friends with Commissioner Gordon, who, by the way, the Joker shot his fucking daughter. You shot his daughter, right?

Joker: Yeah.

Jason: Okay, so should I shoot him, or do you want to go first?

Batman: The Joker would have to do something insanely unforgivable to make me kill him.

Jason stays silent for fifteen seconds, unsure of how to respond.

Jason: …He blackmailed my mom into handing me over and tortured me horribly and then I died in a bomb explosion. Not from the bomb either, from being suffocated under rubble. Just so you know, I was legally dead for five years because of him.

Batman: That’s different.

Jason (twitching eye): Different how?

Batman: You're here now.

Jason looked around, incredulous.

Jason: Am I on a hidden camera show? Because that’s not a defense. Are you seriously trying to excuse what he did just because I’m back now?!

Batman: Um... It’s not right!

Jason: Why? Go ahead, tell me—why is it wrong for me to kill him and for me to kill irredeemable criminals? I'll wait. I have the detonator.

Batman: Because when my parents died—

Jason: Nope, nope, nope! My mom sold me out to the Joker. My dad beat me; my step-mom beat me! You’ve got to come up with something else!

Joker: …He has a point.

Batman (clenched fist): Okay, after saving lives without killing criminals, I learned that all life is valuable.

Jason (without hesitation): Joseph Stalin.

Batman: Okay, that was a war leader—

Jason: Charles Manson.

Batman: Hold on, he was a cult lea—

Jason: Jim Jones.

Batman: They volunteered in both situations.

Jason (calmly): Adolf Hitler. The Nazi soldiers who knowingly participated in the extermination of Jews and those who escaped to Brazil.

Silence.

Joker (weakly speaking): I’m… the one possibly dying, but he brought up a couple of good examples. Like I’d kill me after that.

Batman (stammering): No, wait, because that's not the same. The Joker is not the same as them.

Joker: Thanks, Batsy. I try to be different.

Jason (trying to breathe calmly): Okay, I’ll cancel out the world dictators, the cult leaders. I’ll do that for you… Jeffrey Dahmer, Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, Wade Wilson... I can go all day; I love learning about true crime and wars. He’s not exactly like them either, but he’s pretty damn close.

Batman: …

Jason (irate): And again… him torturing and killing your adopted son isn’t the line? Am I near the line?!

Batman: I told you not to fall for your mother's tricks.

Jason (shocked): Oh… my God! Are you resorting to gaslighting? Are you really gaslighting me while I have a bomb? We’re doing that?!

Joker (not taking any of this seriously): I wouldn't stand for that, neither would Barbara.

Jason hit the man in the arm with the crowbar to silence him.

Batman (doubling down): All I’m saying is that when you came back, you started killing left and right.

Jason: Yes, rapists to my right and murderers to my left. It’s not like I kill shoplifters.

Batman (scoffing): Hypocrite.

Jason: A shoplifter might have a reason to steal and doesn’t resort to kill people.What rapists have you met that had a reason? Because rapists aren’t redeemable; they’re fair game. Same with, let’s see, child traffickers, pedophiles, serial killers, assassins—literally awful, evil people! That’s target practice.

Jason aimed the gun at the Joker as he spoke to emphasize his point.

Batman (indignant): Okay, last I checked, murder is wrong!

Jason (pointing his gun at the Joker): It sure is!

Batman: A criminal is a criminal. I treat them all the same.

Jason (laughing because he had this one ready): Let’s talk about Selina Kyle.

Batman (nervous): Let’s not do that.

Jason: No, no, she gets a pass when she’s attacked people to escape prison. If a criminal is a criminal, then why isn’t she in prison? Because she meows at you? Because of your odd sexual tension with her—I’ve read your journals. And I don't judge man, that's your love life, but I want to know why she gets a pass. Why does Black Mask walk? Why does Mr. Freeze walk? The Joker gets to walk… why is that? Tick-tock, detective.

Batman: …If you give me five minutes, I will think of an answer.

Jason (cocky): It bothers you, doesn’t it? That I’m doing a better job at being you? That I'm taking on businesses in this crime-ridden area because I can admit that crime will never stop? Is it that I kill murderers and rapists, and that hurts your feelings?

Batman: It doesn't bother me… I just don't want you to do this.

Jason (serious): Let me dial back the snark. I'm not asking you to kill Selina or Riddler or Mr. Freeze. I want you to kill the Joker. The man who's been alive and committing crimes since I died. I'm not even mad at you for not stopping my death. Honestly, I forgive you for that. But for the love of God, kill him! Kill him, and I’ll take the blame. That’s all I ask. I am begging you! Do you see this? I am begging you!

Batman sighed with regret knowing he couldn't turn on his morals again. It would only lead to worse happening to him and his family and that included Jason.

Batman (final decision): I can't. I won't. I'm sorry.

Jason: I—Wow, you’re actually going to make me do this. Okay, I kill the Joker or… you kill me.

Jason tossed Batman an extra gun, which the man catches with ease.

Jason: Or you can shoot him.

Batman (somber tone): I regret the day I let you into my life… Not because of any faults you made, but my own. I gave you a good life, with the life of a hero in the mix. Now that you’re alive again and there’s nothing I can do to stop you… I won’t kill him or you. Again… I’m sorry.

That was all he could say. The decisions he made in the past, when Jason died, were secrets he wanted to keep buried, even if it meant Jason would never learn the truth and would continue to harbor resentment toward him.

Jason: Heh… You regret taking me in because of the hero life you gave me—not because I died or because my murderer is still free. Cool. I suppose you’ll just stand by and watch me take him out.

With a dry chuckle, Jason spun the gun in his hand, poised to pull the trigger. Batman reached into his utility belt for a weapon.

Jason (with feigned sweetness): This is fantastic! I always wanted a moment like this with you!

Jason grabbed the Joker and aimed the gun at the cackling psycho's head.

Jason: I’m going to enjoy this!

Batman: DODGE!

Jason: What?

Batman hurled a Batarang at Jason, striking him in the neck and impaling him. In shock, Jason dropped the gun and the Joker, blood spurting from the wound.

Joker (amused): This is fun! What a twist! I didn't think you would hurt your own son!

Jason (shocked and angry): You threw a Batarang… at ME?!

Batman (regrettably): Oh shit, shit, shit! You were supposed to dodge!

Jason (betrayed): You pulled a Piccolo on me!?

Batman: I thought you would dodge! I shouted “dodge!”

Jason: You thought I would read your damn mind, toss Joker aside, dodge, and then not shoot him?!

Batman maintained a stoic expression, but inside, his mind was screaming in embarrassment.

Jason and Joker: Oh my God, you actually did. GREAT! I’m agreeing with him!

Jason yanked the Batarang out of his neck, chuckling dryly as he trembled.

Jason: This doesn’t even hurt me, crazy right? I—You threw this at me to save him… You know, maybe in a few years we can laugh about this, but not here, not today. I’m sorry too… but I’ll see you again.

Jason pressed the detonator, successfully escaping alongside Batman. The Joker was buried beneath the collapsing debris of the buildings, but somehow still alive.

[starlit-typewriter]

Genshin SAGAU, Creator of Teyvat, but not Humanity Part 6

Thank you to everyone who liked and commented, it really kept me motivated!

Warning for mild self harm, nothing graphic. There are no depressive feelings associated with it.

Warning for Spoilers up to 4.6

Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part

~~~

You’re honestly not sure how long you’ve been sitting in the beautiful meadow, enjoying the scenery and the sounds of nature. 

You spent some time staring at the glowing yellow flowers, admiring their soft silken petals. 

You also spent some splashing around in the small river nearby. Its crystal clear blue water lets you see all the way to the bottom. 

The singing of birdsong echo through the beautiful meadow, providing a beautiful atmosphere. 

It’s probably been some time now since you’ve arrived, as the sun is starting to set and the sky was getting dark.

Well, it’s no fun sitting in a dark meadow, you reasoned, may as well see if you could find someplace to sleep. 

You wander over to the gigantic tree that stood as a centerpiece to this meadow and started to investigate its roots to see if there were any nook-worthy spots.

To your surprise you found, well it’s not a nook, but a cave.

Even better!

You scoot your way down, mindful of the steep incline. 

In the back of your head you realize you should probably be panicked about the fact you’re in the middle of nowhere, alone and with nothing, but its only the back of your head, which means the front part that actually makes the decisions is happily powering on. 

At the back of the cave, is not a wall of rock and dirt, you know like you’d expect the back of a cave to be like, but rather a glowing wall of golden symbols.

There’s also a strange energy behind the glowing wall that’s beckoning you closer.

That voice in the back of your head is outright screaming about how insane this whole situation is, but again as we’ve already established, it’s the back not the front. Therefore you reach out to touch the glowing wall of golden symbols.

You expect nothing to happen, because it’s a wall and you’re just touching it. But something does happen, to you, not the wall. The wall is fine, at least you think it’s fine because you can’t see it anymore.

Instead you see this gigantic underground cavern with a giant round rock in the center, surrounded by other large tall rocks and what looks to be a golden fence surrounding the aforementioned round rock.

Then the round rock starts to move.

Update, that is not a rock it is a living thing that looks like a rock.

You think it might be making some kind of sound, but there’s all of a sudden a loud buzzing in your ears that you can’t get rid of.

You shake your head in hopes it’ll do something, to no avail. Actually it makes it quite a bit worse, since you now have a bit of a headache.

You would like to investigate the creature that was once the large round rock so you start to move closer.

As you do the buzzing in your ears and the pounding in your head gets worse, but you can’t seem to stop your feet from moving you closer to the center. Or really your entire body because it would be weird if it was just your feet moving you closer when your entire body is trying to get away, that would probably look like a weird fusion of a tug of war and a crab dance wouldn't it.

Oh you’re at the golden gate now.

At this point your head feels like it’s splitting open. But your hand moves to touch the golden fence, only for it to shatter into golden sparkling particles. 

Before you can process what just happened, the round rock creature moves towards you at a speed that your brain honestly can’t comprehend due to it being in debilitating pain.

It doesn’t run you over or attack you, but rather it nudges you gently with its snout.

Dragon

The word went unsaid.

Yet it echoed in your mind nonetheless.

They’ve never met a dragon before, not do they know what one should look like. 

But now, looking into the topaz eyes of this creature, you knew in your heart of hearts that they were a dragon.

He was also talking to you.

You couldn’t understand what he was saying.

But you can sense his pain.

You can sense anger, rage, helplessness, fear

And

Relief

Your vision is suddenly filled with glowing golden particles.

The world seems to come alive with energy as it pours into your body.

Flashes of scenes and people run through your head.

These scenes, 

No

These memories.

They’re 

Yours?

But,

Also his?

Azhdaha.

His name falls from your lips as your weakened knees give out.

That was his name,

He was dying

Eroding

But, he still remembered his history

His kin

His family

He gave you his memories,

His powers

And in doing so,

It killed him.

But awakened you.

Glittering tears dripped off your fluttering eyelids as you struggled to wrap your mind over what happened.

Flashes of a history you never knew,

Memories of a family you never had.

Images of a swirling cosmos, dancing around your form. Joy, curiosity, freedom

An orb of golden light, zipping around you like a beloved pet. Fondness, concern, excitement.

The shadow of a large flying creature passing overtop you. Awe, pride, trust.

A pair of desperate golden eyes, apologetic and pleading as a searing pain overwhelms you. Betrayal, pain, hurt, hurt, huRT, HURT.

A sharp, sickening, burning pain fills your body as you fight the urge to cough blood.

Eons upon eons of pain and anger and betrayal crashes into you, bringing you to the floor.

There’s screaming, and pain.

Sounds of something crumbling and falling are but whispers in your ear as they’re filled with the sound of your pounding heart.

Your eyes burn with tears as you lay there.

Your tears stain the earth in front you.

Laying there on your side, you can feel the softness of the cool dirt, and a slight breeze in the air.

It was silent

Not a single birdsong nor the sounds of trickling water to be found.

Your heart bursting with more emotion than they could bear.

How could anyone live like this?

Every moment, every action, every thought is wracked with agony and pain.

All you could do was curl up in a ball and hope it all fades.

Little by little it does.

The fear, pain, panic, and sorrow are all stripped away.

Seeping into the cold hard dirt beneath you, replacing you with a familiar sense of numbness.

You breathe, feeling nothing

This is why you were so calm, you realized.

Even as you got transported to a foreign place, got threatened at sword point and lost all your belongings.

You knew that there was something wrong with your mindset, but you were so calm that you didn't think to question it.

But now, with the dried tear tracks on your face, you realize.

Something is very very wrong with this place.

It's like something or someone is constantly pumping you with a sedative, urging you to not focus on things that make you unhappy.

Even now, a part of you is trying to forget what just happened, to go back to wandering through the flowers.

To close your eyes and ears to the horrors and memories of the past.

No

No, you can't forget.

Azhdaha died for this.

He died to give you a chance at remembering.

You dug your nails into your skin until you felt it split open and something wet trickle out.

The pain helped ground you.

Helped you remember.

With all that swirling around in your mind, you had many questions.

Where am I?

What happened?

Why is this going on?

But the central one remains clear.

Who are you?

~~~

“-ao”

“-iao, please!”

The adeptus turned his head at the call.

While not many people knew his name, there were still times when those who didn’t know better used his name in vain. 

Either those who weren’t sure who its was connected to, or those who didn’t care.

But this one was different.

It wasn’t full of arrogant confidence that he wouldn’t hear.

Nor the simple curiosity of an irritating scholar.

This one was full of fear and panic.

From a familiar voice.

Summoning his adeptal energy he focused on that call, and willed himself to disappear.

The next moment he opened his eyes, it was to a sight that made his blood run cold.

The Traveler, usually so strong and bright and full of life, collapsed on the ground, their flying companion panicking.

He raced over, senses on high alert for any nearby enemies.

“Xiao!” The flying pixie shot over to his side, her hands twisted into her clothing in stress.

“What happened,” he demanded, checking over their body for any wounds or abyssal energy, but could find none. All the while Paimon blabbed helplessly about how they were just walking like normal when they dropped like a stone for no reason.

The conqueror of demons pressed his ear to their chest to see if he could hear a heartbeat.

Thankfully it was beating strong.

He moved over to their head, to examine their breathing and check for head wounds.

He cradled their body in his lap and he looked over their skull for any bumps or wounds.

Unbeknownst to him, as he was checking over this head, the Traveler’s eyes snapped open.

They sat up rapidly, almost hitting Xiao’s chin in their frantic panic.

“Azhdaha,” they breathed, scrambling to their feet and taking a couple of shaky steps.

The Yaksha leaped forward to catch them as they swayed.

The Traveler blinked at their savior.

“Xiao?” They breathed, their eyes glassy and unfocused.

“Are you ok,” he asked gently, trying not to spook them in their disorientated state. 

They blinked at him slowly, before pushing themselves upright. They seemed to be focused on something in the distance.

He shook them slightly, they startled at the contact. They turned to face him, the glassiness in their eyes fading slightly.

“We need to check on Azhdaha,” their tone showed no room for argument.

Xiao had many questions he wanted to ask, but, well.

The Traveler is never this serious. Only a couple times before have they seen them with this look on their face, that was always in the heat of battle.

He wanted to argue, but he knew that they wouldn’t ask like this without cause. 

Not to mention they’d probably go investigate without him if he didn’t agree. 

He exchanged looks with Paimon, who whilst still looking understandably stressed, seemed to to know better than to argue with the Traveler in such a state.

So he nods in agreement, offering his hand to take them to Nantianmen.

In a swirl of Adeptal and Anemo power, the three disappeared.

~~~

As the trio raced towards the base of Mt. Hulao , they noticed an issue.

A glaring issue,

The biggest landmark, the proof of Azhdaha’s sealing. 

The crystalline tree that became the dragon’s tail.

It was gone.

It also seemed that they were not the only people who came to investigate.

A handsome gentleman in a brown and gold suit stood at the edge of where the tree used to be.

At the edge of a giant crater.

“Lord La- Zhongli,” the Yaksha breathed, stalling to a stop behind him.

The man in question turned at his call, his gaze tired as it swept over the three of them. 

“What happened,” the Traveler demanded, walking up to him.

He sighed, seeming very old and tired.  “It seems that Azhdaha has passed on.”

There was a moment,

“WHAT!” Paimon’s shriek echoed through the meadow.

“But, I thought you said that the energy from ki-” Zhongli raises a hand, interrupting her tirade.

“A normal death would result in a backlash that would level the entirety of Jueyun Karst, that is true.” He turned back to the edge of the crater, “But this is no normal death.”

The four of them peered over the edge of the crater.

A small bedraggled figure lay there in the center, their white clothing stained with dirt and soot. 

“It seems,” he breathed, “that he’s given his energy to someone else before passing on.”

~~~

Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part

This one is a little shorter, but I just had to end it here, its such a perfect cliffhan- I mean ending.

Again, the next couple updates might take a while, but I promise I'm trying my best.

My askbox is always open if you have any question, concerns or just wanna chat about Genshin.

Behold, the taglist!

@bunniotomia,@lucid-stories, @ymechi, @chocogi,  @ra404, @ash1, @esthelily, @tottybear, @mmeatt, @quacking-simp, @reemthetheme, @universallyenthusiastsage, @resident-cryptid, @fantasyhopperhea, @thedevioussmirk, @etherisy, @naynayaa ,@mel-star636, @chericia, @aithane, @mmeatt, @xrosegorex

[jennifer-jeong]

Fluff + Slight Angst | L&DS x GN!Reader How They Comfort You

SUMMARY Headcanons on how they'd support you

CONTENT Fluff, little bit of angst, mentions their past and past traumas

WORD COUNT: 765

ZAYNE | LI SHEN

Zayne is actually very good with his words, he’s very soothing especially when it comes to academics or stress. I imagine he learned it from his time in med school both because they teach it in his classes and also because he needed to learn it for himself (med school is painfully stressful). He’s still a bit inexperienced when it comes to intimate relationships and how to communicate in them but he still does really well. He’s struggled a lot also with his nightmares and his evol, so he probably also learned a lot about coping mechanisms through that. He probably took the time to study things like PTSD, anxiety disorders, and insomnia.

He comforts you with sweet words and logical advice. If you’ve had a bad day he’ll suggest things to help you relax so you can get back to it tomorrow. He knows that life doesn’t wait for anyone and he just wants to give you a pick-me-up the best he can. He’ll make you tea, soup, and obviously also a sweet treat at the end. He’ll give you a lot of kisses and cuddles, whatever you need. He probably also encourages you to let it out and cry if you’re feeling it, he knows that it’s good for you since it’s been scientifically proven LOL. Zayne would probably have made a great psychiatrist even despite his stoic self but regardless he does make an amazing lover.

RAFAYEL | QI YU

Rafayel is just a lil guy and isn’t super good at finding the right words to comfort you with but he knows he loves you and hates to see you like this, so he does everything he can. Rafayel hasn’t had family or loved ones with him or close to him for a long time. I imagine that in his childhood, he was probably also robbed of the opportunity to learn how to communicate in a situation like this because his home was destroyed. He’s been through so much pain though and so his empathy for you runs insanely deep. He understands any pain you feel so wholly even if he can’t explain it with words well.

He comforts you with so many hugs and buys you your favorite foods. If you’ve had a bad day he’ll immediately drop whatever he’s doing and suggest you do something together. You can have a paint night, watch a movie, cook a meal, or even just put on a random show and cuddle. He knows life sucks sometimes but he knows that his life sucks slightly less with you in it and he hopes so desperately that he does the same for you. You let him know that he makes everything better though, you communicate with him both because you like using your words but also to kind of show him how you do it so he can learn too.

XAVIER | SHEN XINGHUI

Xavier is so sweet and overall just kinda goes with the flow. He’s literally an old man LOL, he has a lot of patience and loves you so much. However, sometimes this makes it difficult because you need him to be decisive with his words sometimes but he struggles with it. He’s lived such a hectic life and has already lost you once so I imagine it’s hard for him to really understand how to put things into words. Not to mention the fact that he was seemingly very protected and sheltered back on his home planet since he always had bodyguards around him.

Xavier plays dumb sometimes on purpose because he’s a silly dude but he’s extremely observant and smart. He knows exactly when you’re feeling down or stressed or anything. He’s good at reading your emotion, just kinda unsure on what to do afterwards. But upon noticing, he will always hit you with the “are you okay?” because he knows you’ll communicate with him. Even if you just say “I’m fine” he’ll know you’re not and will encourage you to do something with him until you just tell him LOL. He knows it’s something he wants to work on but he’s smart and a very fast learner, so if you come up with any sort of codes or phrases that signify certain things, he’ll catch on fast. Have a code for “I need hugs and no talking?” he’s on it, code for “I need to yap and cry?” he’s by your side. He will literally travel to the ends of the infinite universe to find you because he promised you, and you best believe he won’t ever break that promise.

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[notjustjavierpena]

Wake

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Finally another part of my darksugardaddy!joel. This has been sitting in my WIPs for a while, and I’m so pleased with how it turned out. Be kind to me as I haven’t written in a while and I feel terrible about starving you all of content.

Summary: Joel comes home to fuck your lights out. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dub-con with non-con elements, painful and rough sex, p in v sex, choking, passing out, degradation, abusive behavior, creampie, dirty talk, no aftercare, sugar daddy, daddy kink

Word count: 2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50908876

Wake

It’s a late afternoon when you come to a realization; you don’t love Joel Miller, and you don’t think you could ever love Joel Miller. He is everything that you’ve been taught to hate if you want to believe in fairytales. Your parents would disapprove of him so immediately that you’d be terrified of them cutting you off from them if they knew of his existence.

You’ve never had a man be this rough with you, and only occasionally stroking your hair in apology afterward, but you suppose that the copious amounts of money spent on you - clothes that feel like armor around regular men and expensive bottles of wine that might as well have been potions designed to make you insane - is enough to make up for any unpleasantries within what you don’t dare call a relationship. 

You don’t love him but you can’t hate him. Not in a way that any other person would. How else would you surround yourself with pretty things? You’re no good at anything else than being what he needs.

Whenever he has had a bad day, you know the roughness will increase. It always starts the same; with a slam of the mansion door and a hungry search for you through the obnoxiously large building. He calls for you and you don’t dare not to answer, and in the end, he finds you in the extravagant living room - one of many - with its gold-rimmed glass tables and Chesterfield couches. You’ve been reading a book, but you put it down the second he enters and don’t even bother asking to read to the next full stop. 

“There you are,” he almost heaves for breath with exhaustion from his anger. He isn’t angry at you - you know this - but still, you find yourself treading lightly when his voice is so cold that the living room seems to drop a few degrees in temperature and causing your nipples to harden at the sudden change.

Then, as part of your ritual, he gets a thick wad of bills from the inside pocket of his suit and places it on the nearest surface. A bank transfer won’t do in these situations. He needs something physical, something he can hold in his hand and flash before you, and you know that he wants you to fall to your knees and beg for the warmth and dirtiness of the printed bills against your clean skin.

You’re just about to when he interrupts you.

“There will be more when you wake,” he promises, voice almost too quiet and restrained. Like he is saving his strength. 

You notice his choice of words; when you wake.

Wake.

You gulp. You’ll have to take it in stride. You’ll have to play the part.

You rise from your seat and he watches you patiently. You say nothing as you lower yourself onto the glass table and then lie down on your back, knowing it can hold because Joel would never buy a surface that he couldn’t have you on. 

You’ve learned not to wear anything too difficult to get out of, so it takes little time for you to pull off your skirt. Though you struggle a bit with your underwear since they’re already damp, sticking to the outline of your cunt and the sight makes Joel smirk like the Devil. Curse him, you think, for knowing that you can barely function when he looms over you like a giant, like a dangerous predator that hasn’t tasted blood for weeks. 

When you manage to maneuver your panties down your thighs, he twitches with impatience and curls his whole fist around the cotton fabric. He yanks them down and watches them twist into themselves as he pulls them down over the length of your legs and off your feet. 

They catch on your heels for the tiniest second. He gracefully undoes the ankle straps of them and drops each one onto the floor after taking it off. The anticipation is killing you, toying with your ability to breathe properly and even moreso at the humiliation of only wearing your top now. 

“Pull it down,” he commands, gesturing to it. You start to yank at the bottom to pull it over your head but he growls, “Down. Not off, stupid bitch.”

Oh. 

You pull the neckline down to settle it underneath your breasts, feeling like something on display with the way that Joel takes you in. His cock strains against the front of his pants, his breath uneven, when he cups both of your tits in his hands and pushes them roughly together. His thumbs skim over your hardened nipples, causing you to moan and he responds by pinching them instead until the moan transforms into a whimper.

“I’m gonna fuck you until your pretty little lights go out,” he mutters, pinches, and then tugs a bit on your nipples until you move involuntarily, “Lie still. Don’t give me any shit.”

He takes a step back, his gaze pinning you down whilst he undoes his belt. You refrain from shivering in case he tells you off once more, but you’re so close to doing it when you hear the noise of his zipper. A gush of wetness seeps from you, possibly smearing the glass surface that you are lying on. 

“Please,” you say pathetically.

“Please what?” He asks as if he doesn’t care.

“Daddy,” you present your cunt for him by opening your legs and Joel instinctively looks at your quivering slit, “Please fuck me.”

Joel steps between your legs, using his knees to push them even further apart. He towers over you, cock standing impressively into the air after he has shoved his pants and underwear down his thighs. He tuts at the desperate look in your eyes, “I barely make it through the front door before you’re spreading your legs for me.”

You want to argue that he was the one who sought you out, but he might leave you with a throbbing cunt if you have the audacity to play smart with him, so instead you just nod with a breathless ‘yes’.

He places one knee on the coffee table, following up with scooping a hand underneath the small of your back to align your lower pelvises. His grip is so strong, his bare skin, the amount you are allowed to feel, burns against your own. Like King Midas, his touch enriches you, turns you into something as valuable as gold. 

His cock breaches your tight cunt moments after. He watches you intently as your eyes screw shut with the inevitable sting that it brings due to his generous girth. He seats himself to the hilt inside of you and reaches something you didn’t even know a man could get to when he presses his hand into the spot where it rests on your back. 

“Good girl,” he praises with a strained moan, “How do you feel?”

“Full,” you say shakily and teasingly clench around him. 

He takes in a sharp breath, and before you know it, his free hand has come down on your right breast in a harsh slap. He adds to it by palming your throat afterward, tightly gripping it when you try to squeeze around his length again after not having been given time to react to the consequence of doing it the first time. You smirk up at him and he nearly loses his mind. 

“God, you just want it bad, don’t you, little girl?” His hips draw back and he keeps you waiting for the briefest second before slamming them forward again. The force behind his thrusts is borderline painful, but the way his hand arches your back makes his cockhead pound your front wall. 

The moans you let out are barely there, high-pitched or silent with the way he knocks all wind out of you whilst simultaneously cutting off oxygenated blood to your brain.

He fucks you like an animal, all groans and grunts, sweat dripping from his brow because he is too hungry for dominance to undress. He loves being able to quickly flee the scene afterward and loves leaving you with no clothes on so you cannot follow him. 

But it’s not the amount of clothes that he wears compared to you that gets you close to the edge. It is the fact that nothing around you feels real except for him. Even you don’t feel real but rather closer to an inanimate object that only comes alive because of the dark eyes that penetrate your own. 

You’ve known this fact for a while. Despite the love not being there, you know that after this arrangement has started - you don’t know what else to call it - his mere looking at you is what makes you materialize. 

Your fingers come up to curl around his wrist. You cannot breathe and it fucking hurts, only dulled by the way that your cunt starts to flutter with how close he has gotten you to the edge. You hadn’t expected him to make you come. 

With wide eyes, you look up at him in an attempt to tell him what is going on. He holds your gaze, pleased with himself as he drives into you, “I know, little girl, don’t have to tell me, I can feel you.” 

You don’t have the guts to fight his harsh hand. You take it with tears forming in your eyes and the feeling of your pulse pounding in your neck where it’s fighting to get past his bruising grip. 

“Say it, say that you love me, that you’re nothing without me,” he commands, but when you try to speak it is nothing but a squeak. He has his hand so tightly around your windpipe that you cannot get a word past your lips, drooling and shaking underneath his lack of mercy as your tongue feels too big for your mouth. He grins maniacally down at you as your vision blurs around the edges, “Made you speechless, did I? You filthy whore.”

You have always been familiar with the term putting someone’s lights out, but you’ve never understood the true meaning until Joel came into your life. You come hard, unfolding beneath his touch, with tears on your cheeks - and then there’s nothing.

Like a child falling asleep in a car seat, you have been carried up the stairs and into your bedroom. You sit up in your comfy bed and try to piece together how you have gotten here, and when you realize, it is because of your underwear and skirt messily and hurriedly sitting around your ankles. 

You tug your bottom garments up again. There is something sticky between your legs, and you know, immediately. what it is when you start to shift your legs and are hit with soreness. Everything hurts, but nothing seems to be broken or damaged. 

You glance to your right and spot the stack of bills that Joel had flashed earlier. It is neatly placed on the edge of the table along with a glass of water and some aspirin. You’ll take them soon, need to feel the ache a little while longer.

Instead of doing what is most comfortable (like taking the damn pills), you reach for the money instead. A delusional person would argue that they still feel warm, the temperature somewhere between newly printed and body heat. You take a few of them in your hand, and then you press them against your skin. The fact that you find it soothing is pathetic.

The wonder and innocence of being carried upstairs as a kid doesn’t translate into adulthood, you think, and then you lay down to fall into a deep sleep.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️