#insanely painful situation to live through

[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

[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

[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.

[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

[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.

[harmonic-intervention]

Let the walls break down

A whole month.

That's how long Tommy could push his luck.

And another fix-it, everybody.

Word count: 15,623 - getting back together, communication, near death, injuries, I'm gonna make them talk if it kills them (it very well might)

Excerpt:

It landed him here – a month after the fact, his heart raw and throbbing with dull pain in his chest. They were on a call, and Tommy had theoretically known that there was a possibility they would run into each other on the job. Only it hadn’t ever really happened before, so why would it now?

On the other hand, back before he and Buck got together and he had shared calls with the 118, he didn’t specifically try to look for them, didn’t try to look for one specific last name stamped over the back of a turnout coat. You only really noticed something once it was gone.

It was an all hands on deck situation, a large apartment building that caught flame, and they were all busy evacuating people, trying to get the fire under control, trying to understand what the best strategy would be. Tommy had done this sort of thing a thousand times.

He wasn’t in a helicopter today, had opted to help out on the ground. For the most part, he didn’t even have time to think about the fact that Buck was around here somewhere, too busy with helping, and saving lives, and trying not to let his coworker’s chatter about whatever drive him insane.

He had trouble concentrating at the moment. It could have been the heartbreak.

He didn’t think about Buck being here, he really didn’t, until he was in the apartment building with a couple of other firefighters and scanning around for people that were still missing. He didn’t notice at first, until he and another man entered a room, and he first saw the 118 emblem on the helmet, and then the BUCKLEY on the back of the coat.

Just his luck.

Tommy didn’t say anything, and neither did Buck. They just shared a nod, and continued on together through the rooms. Air was getting thick. Tommy could barely see two feet in front of him. That did not stop him from seeing the woman and what he assumed was her child, crumpled to the floor in one of the last apartments they checked.

They worked seamlessly without words to each other, the only thing spoken being information about the victims that Buck quickly relayed through the radio.

Tommy did hear Bobby on the other end, however, instructing them to leave the building immediately – it was getting unstable. The damn thing really wasn’t up to code, was it?

So, Tommy threw the woman over his shoulder, and Buck picked up the kid, and they made their way out of there as quickly and safely as possible. No use running when you could barely see, there was always a risk they would stumble over something, and they really didn’t have the time for that.

They almost made it, too.

[continue on ao3]

[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.

[bitterbutblue]

in the morning, you would be gone ☆ tingyun x reader

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

~ announcement of tingyun 5 star form had me so excited seriously i was liek squealing giggling kicking my feet EVERYTHING ohmy god its so insane im goingso insane rn

song: lovesick - laufey ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

"Hey, it's Tingyun! If you're listening to this, I'm probably busy right now. Please leave me a voice message, I'll get back to it as soon as I can, promise! See you later!"

Exhaling shakily, you press the replay button and listen to the voice message again.

"Hey, it's Tingyun! If you're listening to this, I'm probably busy right now. Please leave me a voice message, I'll get back to it as soon as I can, promise! See you later!"

Your worst fear was forgetting what she sounds like. The voice that promised you a life forever together on the altar may be a voice you'll never hear again. The voice that soothed you on nights you needed her most is now just a recording on a phone, playing back the same repeated message. But it is still her voice, it's still her.

You couldn't bear to watch the day they performed the foxian funeral rituals, the idea of losing her to the vast space ahead of you was too much for you to even comprehend. How does one cope with loss? How does one move on from loving someone to the point where you don't even know where you start and where she ends? You can only sit in the corner of your bedroom, taking in pieces of her life and knowing she would never step foot in the room again. Head in your hands, gaping hole in what used to be your chest, and tears that leave a path down your cheek. It was like a statue frozen in time, the state of barely being able to function without every fibre in your being screaming in agony, begging for it to stop. You never realised how the human body was capable of making emotional pain so physical until the moment you found yourself on the ground, Yukong banging on the doors and begging you to let her in.

You spend hours curled on the floor because you can't get in the bed without smelling the scent of her shampoo lingering in the bedsheets. You can't even bring yourself to eat in the kitchen without remembering how she should be standing there with you, arms around your waist and chest pressed against your back. Chin resting on your shoulders as she mumbles sleepily, asking for you to make her favourite for breakfast.

The cards that they dealt you were unfair, there was not much you could truly do about it though. You can really only just nod along, aimlessly going on with your day and learning to live by yourself again after almost 100 years with the same person. 100 years with the same person, and now you have to relearn what it means to be yourself. Each time you hear a small sound inside your house you can't help but momentarily think that she's home, that that was her waking up from her nap or her coming home from work- only for it to be a sound from the neighbours or the cars outside.

But the worst of it all was thinking about what she had to go through or what she may be going through. When Yukong told you there was no body actually found, a part of you was hopeful- perhaps she was alive. Perhaps somewhere she was out there and you could find her again. Another part of you felt sick, because what if she was alive, but still being used? To think about what may have happened to her or what might be happening to her scares to you an extent you can't even comprehend yourself. At the end of each day, you can really only make the same prayer to Lan so that you can feel at peace about the whole situation.

If she's gone, please have her be resting in peace.

When the foxian stepped onto the Luofu, Yukong felt her heart come to a stop. Her face paled, whiter than a sheet of paper and she felt faint. The foxian looks around with a dazed look in her eyes, as if she's completely unfocused on her surroundings. When her eyes met Yukong's a brief flicker of consciousness, as if struggling to fight whatever wave had been drowning her, passes through her eyes until it is replaced by the same dazed look as before. She scans the crowd that only watches in horror as the girl who presumed missing then dead now walks towards Yukong. Dressed like a goddess, nine elegant tails flowing behind her as she mumbles in a dazed voice.

"Do I know you?"

Yukong breaks down in her room that evening.

She doesn't know how to tell you.

She didn't have to. The foxian found herself drawn to this house down the road, this door that she feels the urge to open. Instead, she stands outside, a hand placed on the wooden door, tracing each individual groove as if memorising a complex pattern. Something about this door has her frozen, only able to think about what lays behind the door. Without really thinking about her movements, the foxian knocks on the door, her heart racing for reasons she doesn't understand.

"Yukong, if you want to come in, just open the door. There's no need to-"

A hand flies to your mouth when you notice the green eyes, the brown hair, the sharp fox ears. You feel your vision grow blurry as your breathing grows shallow, stepping back and catching yourself by leaning against the wall. There stood in front of you was your wife who was presumed dead. There stood in front of you was a shadow of your wife because those eyes were so empty and hollow it scared you. You had never seen Tingyun with such soulless eyes. She always had a glint, some sort of flicker of mischief or humour. Now her eyes just stare into yours as if she has no actual consciousness, as if she's just going through the motions of the day again.

"Tingyun?"

It scares you, the way she stares. You want to walk up to her, you want to reach out and cup her cheek and ask her if she's okay and maybe share some of the pain that she's been holding in but you can't. You can only watch as she stays outside the house, not moving in. Her eyes dart around the interior of the house and you notice her nose crinkle slightly as her eyes land on a photo on the wall- a move she does when she's confused and you feel sick to your stomach.

"Baby?"

Your voice sounds too hoarse for your own liking as you step forward shakily. Her eyes slowly land back onto you, hollowly taking in your form and her nose crinkles again.

"Who are you?"

It's only three words. Three words really cannot have that big of an impact on someone, or so you think. Words drive so much of the pain that you can feel- 'I love you' and 'I'm sorry' are both such simple phrases that you hear time and time again but when spoken by a certain person at a certain time it can make you feel like warmth that's been spread inside out or it can make you feel colder than a harsh winter night.

Who are you?

It stings more than an open wound and at this point you would rather have preferred it if they had just found her body and confirmed her dead that evening because to see your lover back as nothing but a shell of herself is horrifying. To see your lover stand in front of you with her sense of self replaced with nothing but the ability to breath and speak breaks you from the inside out more than you would ever realise. She's alive, but she's nothing like who she once was. She's back, but at the same time she never truly would be.

"Why... Why did I come here?"

Her voice wavers slightly, and you take a smaller step closer to her. It's freezing outside, she's wearing nothing but a short dress and you want to pull her into the house so that maybe she can feel some of the warmth and remember at least a fraction of you. But you just stand where you were.

"Do you know me?"

It was a struggle to speak, with words clogging up in your throat and choking you from the inside. Your heart races, unable to stop yourself from trembling as you await her response. She looks at you with her eyebrows furrowed, her chest heaving slightly as if she's trying to calm herself down.

"No."

You release a shuddering breath, closing your eyes as the tears fall. You grip onto the door handle to steady yourself, because you are about to pass out any minute now.

"That's okay." You look back at her finally, after a long minute of silence. The look in her eyes has changed, a hint of sorrow hidden behind the mist of confusion and hazy memories.

"Why does it hurt?"

She sounds so confused, and you can hear the slight twinge of pain in her voice and it hurts you more than you could have ever imagined. Losing someone was hard enough, losing someone who was physically still here but would never fully be back was somehow worse.

"Why does it hurt to... see you upset?"

Your hand moves instinctively, moving to cup her cheek as a tear falls from her eyes, a tear that she hadn't even realised had fallen until she feels your thumb gently wipe it away. She leans into your touch, tilting her head slightly and your heart just crumbles into dust.

"Don't worry too much about it now, baby." You whisper softly, and she blinks. She just stares at you with this look of regret that she doesn't understand why she's feeling.

"I'm sorry."

She apologises for a reason she doesn't know yet, but she knows one thing. Seeing you cry hurt her for a reason she can't understand, and she doesn't want to see you upset either. Perhaps you are upset because of her, and perhaps she never should've come over. She just puts her hand over yours, and she can't understand why your touch feels so familiar when you are nothing but a blank face in her mind. You feel the world fading beneath your feet because you feel the cold metal against your skin, the cold metal band that still sits around her ring finger.

"You've done nothing wrong."

The silence that follows is haunting, watching as Tingyun slowly steps back.

"I'm sorry."

You can only watch as she steps back into the darkness, and you can't even call after her until she fades into the unknown behind you. You wonder if that's truly the last time you'll ever see her and a part of you hates the world for that. Your wife's last words were once 'I love you, I'll see you later', filled with love and care. Now they would be 'I'm sorry', filled with a sense of emptiness and regret, coming from someone who didn't even know your name.

The photo that hangs on the wall next to the door is her and you, hand in hand and both in white- the same metal band on her finger on yours.

Tingyun thinks of that photo every night now and she can't understand why it hurts so much.

[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

[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

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 13

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Author Note: So... I wrote the story outline until the ending. I didn't expect the story to turn dark. Prepare yourself.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 💖💖💖

“I had a miserable life when I lived here,” you said, your voice trembling with old resentment.

Bucky’s eyes softened as he listened. He took a step closer, his shoulders slumping. “You’re hurting. I get it.”

He touched his chest, his fingers pressing against the fabric as if trying to reach his heart. “But… it’s not only you.” His voice broke slightly, and he looked down, struggling to maintain composure. “Me too.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his movements agitated. “That’s why I’m doing this,” he continued, his voice low and earnest. “I’m trying to fix all the pain we both caused.” He looked into your eyes, his expression pleading. “I need to make things right.”

You watched him, torn between your anger and the vulnerability he displayed. His words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, both of you stood silently, understanding shared suffering.

Flashback Start

Growing up, Bucky never felt the warmth of a real family. His father, Alex, was distant, never saying a word to him, never laughing, never making silly jokes, or even getting angry. It was as if Bucky didn’t even exist in his father’s eyes.

Lydia was always the one to initiate conversations at home, but Alex only responded with monosyllables: ‘Yes,’ ‘No,’ and ‘Just go by yourself.’ He rarely stayed home, often spending his nights at the construction office.

The only time Alex seemed to notice Bucky was when he got hurt. Bucky vividly remembered the first time he felt his father’s care was when he fell from the playground. That moment stood out, making Bucky believe that, perhaps, his father still cared for him. But Lydia noticed it too.

From then on, Lydia started orchestrating accidents to make Bucky get hurt just to garner Alex's attention, trying to fabricate a close-knit family facade. For a while, Bucky didn’t find it strange because he finally received attention from both his parents. Then one day, he fell down the stairs, even though he was sure he had been careful.

While he was resting, Bucky overheard a heated argument between his parents. Alex’s voice echoed through the house, filled with anger and frustration. “You’re an insane woman, hurting your own kid?” he yelled.

Bucky’s nanny had witnessed the incident. She saw Lydia push Bucky down the stairs, and the look on Lydia’s face had been terrifying, like a devil’s. When Alex came home, the nanny told him everything. The truth about Lydia’s actions deepened Alex’s hatred towards his estranged wife.

When Bucky got sick, his father never visited him. Weak and confused, Bucky asked Lydia, “Mom, why doesn’t my father like me?”

Lydia hugged him tightly. “Sweetie, your father loves us, but he’s like this because of that woman.”

“That woman?” Bucky asked, not understanding what his mother meant.

He started to learn the truth when he overheard his father one day. “Why is she suddenly sick? Send her to the city,” Alex said, his voice stressed and weary. He threw himself into a chair, mentioning another woman’s name—someone who wasn’t Lydia.

Bucky didn’t fully grasp the situation, but he noticed his father coming home even later than before. One day, he heard his father scream when that woman died. Alex drowned his sorrows in alcohol, becoming a shadow of himself.

Young Bucky, filled with confusion and pain, found it easy to blame someone else for his father’s misery. His resentment grew until one day, tragedy struck again. Alex died in a car accident.

At the funeral, guests offered their condolences to Lydia, but no one paid much attention to Bucky. Even if they did, he didn’t understand the meaning of death. So, he waited outside and saw a thin, ghostly man from a Christmas movie—it was Tom. With him was a little girl peeking from a window near the funeral home.

Lydia suddenly appeared beside Bucky. “You see that man and the girl?”

Bucky nodded.

“That’s the husband and daughter of the woman who made your father hate us,” Lydia said, her voice dripping with bitterness.

Bucky clenched his fists, his young heart filling with hatred. From that day, he despised you. He noticed you weren’t close with Tom but didn’t seek his attention like Bucky did with Alex.

Bucky started bullying you, finding a twisted sense of superiority. His friends joined in, making it worse. For a kid, it felt powerful to look down on someone.

When you left with Ransom, Bucky felt an unexpected emptiness. He thought you would realize Ransom was a jerk and come back, but you didn’t. He began to wonder why he missed you.

Was it because he lost his scapegoat, or was it guilt? The guilt of making you leave town gnawed at him.

One day, he learned that Lydia had lied. All her stories were lies. Your mother had never done anything to Alex. It was just that his father still loved her. The weight of guilt and the sins he committed against you ate him alive. He couldn’t sleep or eat and eventually sought therapy.

Bucky’s voice trembled with a mix of anger and hurt as he confronted his mother. “Why did you do that? Why did you lie about everything?”

Lydia’s face twisted with a blend of defiance and bitterness. “Because I’m the victim in this loveless marriage. You have no right to be mad at me.”

Bucky’s frustration erupted. “I’m allowed to be angry! You made me believe your lies, and because of that, I made someone’s life miserable.”

Lydia’s slap was sudden and sharp, stinging Bucky’s cheek. He recoiled, his face burning with pain both physical and emotional. His eyes widened in shock, his expression a mix of disbelief and deep hurt.

“I gave everything to your father!” Lydia’s voice was a mix of anger and desperation. “My family business, my money. But that man only had eyes and a heart for that woman. To him, I was less than a bug.”

Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides, his shoulders shaking with the effort to control his rage. “So you still don’t feel guilty for lying to me?”

Lydia’s eyes were wild, her face streaked with tears. “Why? Why should I feel guilty?” she screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of her own grief. “I sacrificed everything for that ungrateful man!”

“Because I’m your son!” Bucky shouted back, his voice breaking. “You gave birth to me! You should feel ashamed for using me as a pawn in your twisted games.”

Lydia’s face contorted with a mix of pain and anger. She grabbed at her own hair, her body trembling as she cried. “Are you ashamed to have me as your mother? You have everything—status, money! That’s why you were the popular kid at school. Everyone envied you!”

Bucky’s eyes flashed with a mix of fury and sadness. “You think that’s a justification? You think all your lies and manipulations are okay because I had status and money? You don’t understand the damage you’ve caused!”

Lydia’s sobs grew louder, her body slumped as if the weight of her own actions was finally crashing down on her. She looked at Bucky with a broken expression, her tears mingling with the anger still in her eyes.

Bucky turned away, his own tears threatening to spill. The air between them was thick with unresolved pain and regret. He felt the crushing weight of their fractured relationship, knowing that no amount of words could undo the damage that had been done.

He had made your life hell for something you didn’t do. The realization tormented him.

After graduating and returning to town, Bucky decided to make a difference. The first thing he wanted to do was apologize to you. But when he visited Tom, you never came home. He saw how Tom lived and the state of the funeral home and decided to help. He also planned to build a new hospital in town because the lack of medical facilities had contributed to your mother’s misdiagnosis.

Then, out of nowhere, you came back.

Flashback End

“High price to pay for what you did,” you said, your voice cold and steady.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly, pain flickering across his face. “I know. I deserve every bit of it.”

You paused, taking a deep breath. “But one thing I appreciate is that you realize your own fault.” Your tone softened slightly, but your eyes remained guarded.

Bucky’s face brightened at your words, hope lighting up his expression. “Well… I even sent my mom to the police for you,” he said, a touch of pride in his voice.

You nodded slowly. “That’s the most extreme act to prove yourself.”

Just then, Tom appeared at the doorway. His eyes flickered with concern as he took in Bucky’s disheveled appearance. “Bucky? I heard about Lydia. Is it true?”

Bucky nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Yeah, it’s true. She’s in police custody now."

Tom sighed deeply, glancing between you and Bucky. “Why don’t you come inside, Bucky? Let’s talk about this. There’s a lot we need to discuss.”

Bucky looked at you, silently seeking your approval. You gave a small nod, and he followed Tom into the house.

🛒🛒🛒🛒

The next day, you went to the grocery store to buy some essentials. As you were browsing the aisles, you spotted Steve looking at a shelf of canned goods.

“Hey, Steve,” you greeted, your voice casual.

He turned, a smile spreading across his face. “Hey! I’m going to the city next week to meet the gallery owner.”

“That’s great,” you replied, genuinely happy for him.

Steve’s smile widened. “I won’t forget your help.”

You shrugged your shoulders, a hint of a smile on your lips. “I still don’t care.”

Steve chuckled, noticing the smile. He nudged your shoulder playfully. “Sure you don’t.”

“Hey guys. Fancy meeting you here.”

Both of you turned around to see Bucky approaching, his expression a mix of surprise and hesitation.

“Oh, hi,” Steve greeted him, his tone polite but lacking warmth. The air between them was thick with an unspoken tension, the remnants of a once-close friendship now strained.

Bucky’s eyes darted between the two of you. “What are you guys up to?”

Steve cleared his throat. “I was just thanking her. Because of her, I got an offer to work in an art gallery.”

Bucky’s face fell slightly. “You’re gonna leave?” His voice grew quiet. “Wow. Congrats, buddy.”

The awkwardness between them was palpable. You could feel the tension building, and it was too much to bear. You decided to continue shopping, hoping to escape the uncomfortable atmosphere. “I’m going to keep shopping. See you around, Steve.”

Steve nodded, a small, grateful smile on his face.

Bucky saw this as his cue. “Let me help you. Besides, I’m going to help Tom later.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t object. “Fine.” Turning to Steve, you said, “See you.”

Steve nodded again, giving you a supportive smile.

Bucky quickly followed you, calling over his shoulder, “Let’s meet up later, buddy.” He didn’t wait for Steve’s answer, his focus solely on catching up with you.

Steve watched the two of you walk away, a somber expression on his face. “It’s better if we don’t,” he murmured to himself, the weight of past conflicts evident in his tone.

Join the tag list? 🩷💙🩷

@bagoffeelings

@darkofimagination

@starsofcloud

@cherrybubblebullet

@winterslove1917

@thezombieprostitute

@namoreno

@sagebarness

@tenaciousathleteoperatorgarden

@unaxv

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@hopeful-daydreaming

@freshlemontea

@eat-limes-bitches

@kandis-mom

@scott-loki-barnes

@winters1917

@differenttyphoonwerewolf

@arunabraganza

@ordelixx

@esposadomd

@sapphirebarnes

@cjand10

@bellabarnes1378

@thetravelingtyper

@buckitostan

@mostlymarvelgirl

@5upersoldiers1xt

@jjanereid

@cakesandtom

@queen2234

@learisa

@springsheep

@mrsstuckyboo

@read-just-cant

@loki-laufeyson68

@anixerz

@ghalouha

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

@emerald-writes

@mcira

@barnesxstan

@bxtchboy69

@lokislady82

@mrsnikstan

@calwitch

@thedonswife13

@calwitch

@otterlycanadian

@bonkybarnes106

Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[prime-adeptus]

The Hand That Feeds

“If being with me only brings you pain, then just put up with this for three more days.” Or, the stages you go through during those three days.

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀female reader | spoilers for Caleb's story | angst, brief manipulation, drugging is briefly mentioned, implied toxic behaviour (per canon), medical issues (source: i made it up), mental instability, mentions of blood and violence, mentions of suicide and self-sabotage, splitting (reader has BPD), unreliable narrator. | ~6,8k words

A/N.⠀sooooooooo I've been playing Love and Deepspace..... the brainrot got so bad I've written over five thousand words in two days. this is a bit more of an exploration on the emotional/psychological end, so I'm sorry about the lack of romance!

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

1. DENIAL

Caleb never breaks his promises.

It’s been that way since you were little kids. In thunderstorms, he promised to keep you safe, and he did. On gloomy days, he promised to be your light, and he did. In the rain, he promised to shield you, and he did. He never lies. He always picks up the phone. He never misses any important dates. He always catches you and never lets you fall. That was the Caleb you knew years ago.

Now, he’s much more different than the scrappy young boy with missing teeth and plasters on his skin that he used to be. This Caleb is tall, imposing, domineering. His uniform puts emphasis on his coldness. He is the embodiment of power, but just like he promised you when you were ten, he’d use his power to protect you. You’d trust him with your life, because deep down, you know that he won’t make you regret it.

You’re more than capable of protecting yourself. Years of training at the academy and another handful of years as a hunter has shaped you to be your own defence. Calluses and scars litter your skin, painting them with texture and molding you into a unique sculpture. With each year that passes, you grow out of the same scared little girl you used to be, but you can never get rid of fear completely. Loud noises still send you jumping out of your skin. You still fear death no matter how familiar it’s become. You worry about growing old and fading out of existence, leaving behind vulnerable people who’ll lose you for good.

The past years have not been kind. Fate has put you in all sorts of situations to test your might and willpower, forcing you to be the fearless woman you were meant to be. You’ve passed turbulent times, cried alone as your mind tells you you’re going insane. You’ve stayed at home for days, hiding away from the rest of the world as you contemplate your self-worth and utility. It drains you, bleeds you dry, but for you, there is no time to rest. Life goes on. You must always keep moving no matter how wounded you become.

With Caleb, it doesn’t feel like it has to be that way.

He’s always taken care of you very well, making sure you get enough rest and remember to eat no matter how stressed you become, but things aren’t the same. You’ve grown and so has he. And yet, he’s still the very same boy you grew up with—one who cares for you, one who loves you for you, and one who’ll always have your back. You’re not familiar with giving yourself a break, having been living in a routine of discipline for over a decade of your life, but you find that it’s a nice change. It’s the instrumental break of a song, it’s the beach on a sunny day. It’s gentle breezes caressing your skin and it’s layers of padlocks broken, letting you out of the cage you’ve built for yourself.

For once, you can let yourself relax and be taken care of the way you’ve always been. But as the storm rages on, it all comes crashing down, and you find yourself falling apart.

The anxiety that had come with your initial arrival at Skyhaven never left. It simmers at the pit of your stomach, creeps into your veins and wraps its tendrils around you, dragging you into a cold abyss of apprehension and fear. Being away from Linkon City isn’t doing you any favours. You don’t know anyone here aside from Caleb. There isn’t a place to go or people to talk to. The likelihood of you being in danger is low, but it’s not impossible, and the storm outside does nothing to help your current state. The power has gone out, leaving you in a wide, dark and empty complex where the only illumination comes from the lights on the skyline. 

The recent events are still heavy on your mind, too. Of him tending to the gash on your leg, of him restraining you with his Evol. You don’t think you’ve been that scared since that day in the interrogation room. You remember it vividly: the dimness of that room, the collar he’d placed upon your neck, or the tension in the air while you struggled to get yourself back to reality. It felt like you were in a dream. But then the lights came on and he spoke, and he was no longer the Farspace Fleet Colonel—he was your Caleb.

Your nails have become brittle from how much you’ve been biting on them. You’ve been pacing around the place, trying to call him time and time again only to get no response. With a frustrated sob, you toss your phone onto the sofa and collapse to your knees, tears streaming down your face in rivulets. As much as you’d like to believe that you aren’t afraid of thunder anymore, tonight proves it all wrong.

All you can hear is the downpour outside. It muffles the sound of the clock ticking, yet it doesn’t tune out the worried voices in your head. It’s nearing midnight—way past your bedtime—but you can’t sleep, not even with the potential ambience of the rain. Your thoughts are racing a mile a minute. Though Caleb usually comes home while you’re asleep, being wide awake now also means you’re too aware—aware that he isn’t home, aware that he’s in danger, aware that he might not ever come home at all. Your phone is nearly dead and the candles have long since gone out. You’re trembling both from fear and frost, his sweater loosely hanging on your frame.

The words ‘lockdown’ and ‘cleanup’ grow more and more distant as the irrational thoughts strengthen in numbers. They say he’s doing this on purpose, that he’s abandoning you for good because of you, that he’s keeping so many things hidden from you because he wants you out of his life. You want to believe they aren’t true, you really do, but your fragility makes you waver in every decision. The urge for violence grows but you do your best to keep yourself grounded, rocking yourself back and forth as your body is wracked by sobs. It’s easier said than done. You don’t know how you can stay afloat when you feel so alone.

Cruel. He’s cruel for leaving you alone for this long. He’s cruel for not responding to you. If he truly cared for you, he wouldn’t make you feel this way. Fear blends into anger as your hands twitch and quiver while you heavily breathe in and out as an attempt to calm down. He promised you this morning that he’ll come home. You just need to trust him. But you’re so scared of everything, feeling like the world is caving in around you as you fall deeper and deeper into the void. The dark makes you feel isolated, suffocated. Briefly, you think of how no one will hear you if you scream in this weather. Not even he can save you. Maybe that’ll be the first and last time he breaks his promise.

You shake your head. You know better than to trust your emotions when the sky gets dark. This will pass, it always does, and Caleb would want you to be strong. With newfound determination, you harshly wipe away your tears with the back of your hand and get up. Your legs slightly wobble from the ache in your knees, but you keep upright. As if sensing your predicament, the rain outside slows down and becomes quieter with each second. The thunder has stopped roaring and the downpour slows to a light shower, its droplets hitting the clear glass of the window panes.

Then, the front door opens. A scream threatens to escape your throat. The emergency lights in the hallway outside show a male silhouette at the door, and when you realise who it is, the grave weight on your shoulders is lifted. Relieved, you run into him, making him stumble for a moment before supporting you more steadily. You wrap your arms around his neck and cry, quiet whines leaving you. He pulls you close and rubs soothing circles on your back before murmuring a quiet I’m home into your ear.

How could you doubt him like that? Caleb is kind. He’s the best thing to ever happen to you. He never breaks his promises. Whatever anger you harboured for him earlier dissipates into the air just like fog. Still shaken from the blackout and his radio silence, you grab him tightly, the fabric of his coat bunching up in your unrelenting grip. You don’t know what’s wrong with you tonight. You were doing perfectly fine before the storm. You’re mentally berating yourself for letting him see you in such a pathetic state, but you’re too drained and it’s too late to try to hide.

(You’ve never been able to do that with him.)

“I thought you left me,” you whimper, “I—I don’t feel good. I don’t know. I was scared.”

You cling to him like a child. You feel like one, with how weak and emotional and volatile you feel. The sobs slow down into sniffles as he carries you over to your bedroom before taking a seat on the bed and placing you on his lap. His gloved hands comfortingly caress you wherever they can. Guilt sinks into his bones, pulling him deeper than his gravity ever could. The explosion had been out of his control, so had his death, but he can’t ever forgive himself for making you feel like you’d been left behind.

An ugly emotion rears its head, holds him in its jaws. He wraps his arms around you possessively, allowing you to calm down at your pace. You let out a heavy sigh and fall into him, feeling boneless after the meltdown you were in earlier. There are many things you want to say, but none ever slip your tongue. Instead, you let him hold you, let him press soft kisses to your hair, enveloping you in the warmth you had been craving.

“I told you I’d always be by your side,” he finally speaks up after a moment of silence, squeezing your flesh warmly. “I promised you that, remember?”

You don’t make a sound. You shift closer to him, desperate to be closer, close enough to feel like you’ve fused into one. He doesn’t force you to speak. You look up at him, tear-stained cheeks glimmering under the moonlight, helpless and afraid yet so loving and elated. He shushes you softly, lulling you into a relaxed state as he wipes away your tears with his thumbs before cupping the side of your face affectionately. 

I’ll always be by your side.

How silly and humiliating of you to have been vulnerable like that. Caleb would never lie to you. He’s right, he always is, and you need to learn to fully trust him again. He never breaks his promises. He won’t start now.

2. ANGER

It started with an excruciating pain in your heart.

Then, it continued with pins and needles striking your limbs, making them feel boneless. Your view blurred and darkened at the sides as static took over your vision, showing you mirrors and streaks of light. Your throat closed up and you clutched at it helplessly, jaw dropping open as you tried to breathe. The world spun and suddenly you collapsed on the ground, motionless and afraid. Waves of panic crashed into you, drenching you in trepidation while your thoughts ran rampant, stacking on top of each other like voices in a crowd.

You hardly registered the muffled shouts and your body being moved as you fell limp. Your head was spinning and you felt like you were falling into coldness—into death—but when you woke up, you found yourself in the medical bay of the Fleet’s aircraft. 

The pain in your heart had subsided enough. It still ached and burned, but clarity had returned to your eyes and your limbs no longer felt numb. Your eyelids fluttered open, revealing the fluorescent lights in the ceiling, and it was only then that you heard muted conversations, presumably from those who were taking care of you. You tried to push yourself up, only to be pulled back by something. When you looked down, you found all sorts of cables attached to you and an EKG monitor on your side. Your heart rate was fast and your blood pressure was high. Caleb had come into the medical bay not long after that.

After dismissing the nurses, he’d taken you to his home and decided he’d take care of you himself. Though you weren’t keen on essentially being on house arrest, there was no point in arguing with him. Even if you doubted him sometimes, you knew in your heart that he would never lead you astray. But the way he’s been treating you like a child irks and suffocates you, making you feel like you’re locked in a cramped room.

He talks to you softly and treats you like you’re fragile. You’re several years into your career as a hunter. You’re well in your twenties and more than capable of taking care of yourself or tending to your wounds. As much as you appreciate his concern, it’s starting to feel suffocating. Maybe years of depending on him have made him think you’re useless. He won’t trust you, but he still holds many secrets of his own.

The only conclusion you come to is that he’s hiding something from you, or he’s hiding you.

It doesn’t make sense. Nothing does. How can someone so familiar feel so distant at the same time? You can’t understand his logic or tell what he’s thinking. He always has an explanation for everything, and yet, they never satisfy you at all. The weariness in your system coupled with days of being under quarantine is taking a toll on you. He’d insisted persistently that you stay put while he takes care of everything. It’s not as if it’s his fault, either. No matter how much you want to get back to work—thinking about the backlog you’re going to have to catch up to puts insurmountable anxiety upon your shoulders—you can’t, because your body isn’t cooperating.

It’s not a fever. It’s not a cold. But somehow, you always feel so out of it. It doesn’t even feel like you’re piloting yourself anymore. Suspicion rises in the back of your mind as you think of the medication you’ve been taking every morning. He never told you what they are. What if he’s—

No. He wouldn’t. Caleb isn’t like that.

But what if? You don’t understand him. You don’t know him anymore. Why is he hellbent on keeping you locked up here when you’re already capable of handling things on your own? Burying your face in your hands, you let out a scream of exasperation, feeling as though you’re losing your mind. Why won’t he listen to you? Do you mean anything to him at all?

The door knob twists. You swiftly relax your furrowed brows and turn to him with a small smile as he enters your room. The sun is barely rising, but he already looks wide awake. You can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously at the small cup of pills that he’s holding.

The question slips past your tongue before you realise it. “What have you been giving me?”

Caleb stops in his tracks, brows raised in surprise. Something flickers in his eyes, but the calm expression remains on his features. He moves closer and places what he’s holding on the table, only to pause in his movements again.

“You didn’t finish dinner?”

“Caleb. What have you been giving me?” you ask again, your hands beginning to tremble. Your thoughts are running rapidly, alarms of urgency ringing in your head and adding on to your anxiety. You need answers. You need to know everything.

He takes a seat on the stool next to your bed with a sigh. “I’m hurt you don’t trust me, pipsqueak.”

“Then what’s wrong with me?” You clench your fists, knuckles turning white from the pressure you’re exerting. “Why won’t you let me go?”

“You had a protocore-induced heart attack. Your body is still recovering,” he replies easily. You can’t tell if he’s lying or telling the truth. “And Skyhaven’s still under lockdown. It’s not safe for you to be out.”

“Do you think of me that lowly?” Aggravation drips off of your tone as your voice starts to waver, a familiar sting spreading behind your nose and tears springing up to your eyes. “Do you think I’m still a little kid?”

“It’s not that. I’m just worried about you.”

Your voice rises in volume. It’s getting harder to keep your anger in control. 

“If Skyhaven’s so dangerous, why won’t you let me go back?”

“Because you can’t. No one goes in or goes out during this lockdown. I’m sorry,” he says. It’s quick and meant to shoot you down. You want to scream, to break something, anything, but you can’t. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. I’m protecting you.”

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, irritated at his responses. There’s no point in arguing with him, you realise. Caleb’s stubbornness knows no bounds at times. You take your hand back and look away with an indignant huff. You know you’re acting like a child. Grandma would be disappointed if she saw your state now. But you’re frustrated, you’re anxious, you’re alone and you just want to go home—

“Leave. I don’t wanna see you,” you spit, stubbornly staring at the window. Then, an unknown fear seeps into your veins, causing you to soften just the slightest. “I don’t want us to fight, Caleb.”

“We’re not fighting.” He crouches down in front of you and takes your hand into his before giving it a warm squeeze. “But you have to try and understand me.”

You don’t want to. You don’t want to see his face, don’t want to hear his voice, don’t want anything to do with him. Ignoring him, you get up the chair and return to your room, closing the door behind you with a loud slam. The sound makes you flinch. Unwanted memories slowly fade into the reel of your mind. Aggravated, you lock the door and sit down, pulling your knees close to your chest as your jaw clenches.

You don’t know what you want. A part of you wants him to come in and apologise, to let you do what you want. Another part of you wants him to just leave you alone. But when there’s only silence, you find yourself breaking into sobs again, feeling like you’ve been abandoned. He’s mad at you. He’s going to make you leave and say that he’s just giving you what you wanted. Guilt creeps into your heart as the realisation that you’re doubting him dawns on you. He’s been so kind to you since the little stunt you pulled to get yourself here. He’s letting you walk freely. He’s letting you stay in his home. 

But he’s not listening to you, he’s ignoring you, and it makes you feel as though you’re just a speck of dust in his eyes. Your emotions rage as a tempest in your mind that destroys everything in its wake. A scream of exasperation leaves your lips as you hold your head in your hands, trying to catch your breath. 

I’ll always be by your side.

What a liar. 

3. BARGAINING

It feels as though the sands of time are allowing the particles to fall one at a time into the bottom of the hourglass.

Time is moving slowly, almost as if it’s stuck in place, and hearing the sound of the clock ticking every time you’re ‘home’ is starting to drive you mad. It’s hard not to zero in on Caleb when he is all you have here. You’ve contemplated sending Tara and Zayne some messages to let them know that you’re fine, just staying with a friend. For some odd reason, the messages never get delivered. Assuming your phone’s just broken, you haven’t picked it up since. As a result, there’s not much to do in your free time outside of chores or breaking down, and it’s tearing you apart.

Maybe he’ll rethink his choices if you get hurt on purpose, you think with a bitter grimace. It’s hard to believe that his consideration for you, something you used to adore, now felt like chains holding you down. He might as well have left the collar on your neck. Anger, betrayal, guilt, and shame. Your mind has become a tempest of despondence and pessimism destroying every rational thought in its path. You want to scream and punch the wall. You want to hurt something. You need to destroy something. Your self-control is hanging by a thread and the stubbornness is beginning to feel childish, silly. 

Regrettably, Caleb is right. The Farspace Fleet is still working on cleanup amid this lockdown, not allowing anyone to go in or out. Leaving Skyhaven isn’t an option anymore. You don’t know what you feel anymore, either. You’re stuck here with a curfew whether you like it or not, and your unfamiliarity with the place leaves you at a severe disadvantage. Though you’re not exactly a drinker, your mind wanders to how you’d feel if you were too drunk to think of anything. You don’t care. You don’t know what you want anymore.

Some days, you feel angry at him and think he’s the devil. Some days, you appreciate him and think he’s a gift sent by the heavens. The lack of a middle ground constantly leaves you teetering on the verge of falling on either end. But now—now you feel nothing at all. You’re numb, indifferent, and it perplexes you because you still feel so bad. You think you’re a walking contradiction or a ticking time bomb ready to explode. Caleb has dealt with you for years without a single word of complaint. You’re taking him for granted, says the voice in your head. You need to keep him.

You harshly slap yourself on the face to snap out of it, bringing yourself back to the present.

The skyline glimmers in the distance. Red and white lights speed by on the road and the billboards are as lively as ever. Nightlife enjoyers are undoubtedly in good spirits as they travel from bar to bar. Tara must still be awake watching her favourite show, and Zayne is surely still working late at the hospital. You want to hear their voices and be in their presence even if it’s just for a few minutes. There’s a weight pulling at your heart as your mind wanders to Linkon City. To your real home.

The walls of what you thought was a gorgeous home is starting to remind you of the interrogation room you were in. It feels drab, lifeless. There isn’t much evidence within the home itself that there are people living here in the first place. The little OTTO robot he built for you stays in the corner, lifeless as well. You absentmindedly tap your fingers against the surface of the couch as you stare into the glow of the television. Even the commercials that are meant to be fun and exciting feel fake. The programme continues, returning to the scheduled film of the night. 

It’s late at night and you can’t sleep. You’re up later than you’d usually be. Caleb isn’t home yet, rendering you beyond aware of the fact that you’re home alone, and anxiety lurks around you at every corner. Your pistols rest on the spot beside you as a precaution. With what has been transpiring since you stepped foot in Skyhaven, anything is possible. It’s strange how paranoid you’ve become over the past couple of days. You should feel safe here, you should feel safe with him being the Colonel himself, but you don’t.

“—concerned about you. He said he thinks you might try to kill yourself.”

Your gaze drifts over to the pistols. An image of your blood pooling beneath your head as you lie limp on the ground flashes before your eyes. You imagine how he’d react to your death. Will he care? Will it devastate him? Will he regret how he’s been treating you? Strangely enough, the gruesome thought doesn’t bother you as much as it used to when you were younger. Violence comes with your job as a hunter, even if it’s not inflicted upon humans. Death is no stranger. It’s more familiar than you’d like it to be. You’ve been lured by it a couple of times in your childhood, seen mangled bodies and frozen corpses in your lifetime. 

You’ve gone from craving death to being afraid of it, and yet here you are, contemplating it just like you did when you were fifteen.

Tara used to tell you not to believe your thoughts when it’s dark. You desperately want to, but it feels as though your brain won’t allow it. You’re tired and lonely. You miss home. You grieve for a man that is still alive. A long time has passed—people are constantly changing. He’s not the same man you were eating dinner with at Gran’s house. This is a man who has been through death himself, weighed down by his never-ending burdens and responsibilities, and you sink deeper into your guilt as you realise how unreasonable you’ve been.

You try to separate every thought again. Caleb is protective of you because he’s known you for most of his life and you’re the closest person to him. He put you under strict supervision because he’s worried you’ll be in danger without him to protect you. He treated you like a child, making you feel as though he doesn’t trust you. Your outburst halted everything and is slowly destroying your relationship inside and out. It all feels so monumental, so much bigger than you can handle, and you can’t help but feel defeated.

You have two options: continue this game of who can make the silent treatment last longer, or apologise to him and gain his forgiveness. It eats away at you either way. With apologising, you don’t even know where to begin; he’s never been mad at you nor has he ever raised his voice at you. He always tells you that everything is going to be okay, even if it doesn’t feel like it.

It’ll pass, is what he would say to you. And I’ll be here with you.

But when you have already destroyed everything with your bare hands, who will be there to rebuild it with you?

You haven’t prayed to a god in years. Prayers and rituals don’t work on you, you think, and so it’s not worth the time or effort. But as your eyes slowly close, you pray to whatever celestial being listens to you—give him back. You’ll never do it again.

4. DEPRESSION

Another day of silence passes and plunges you further into the pool of fear and helplessness.

Caleb hasn’t spoken a word to you. Not once. He still prepares your meals, leaves you notes, but he doesn’t utter a single word. You grow more restless by the minute. He’s angry with you. He’s just too nice to tell you upfront. Anxiety makes you avoid him, afraid of what he’ll do or how he’ll react. He doesn’t stop you from going out anymore, either. You’ve been spending your time outside his home, distracting yourself with whatever activity you can find on the streets. For the first few hours, the newfound freedom made you feel on top of the world, but it didn’t last.

Him stepping back should make you feel happy and relieved. Instead, the claws of despair pull you in closer and closer to its maw. You return home after a day out to complete silence. The floorboards would creak beneath your feet, waiting for someone to break the stillness, only for there to be nothing. When you wake up in the morning, Caleb leaves behind nothing but the remnants of his cologne in the air, small proof that he was home. The smell used to comfort you. Now, it makes you feel lonelier, because it’s not enough.

It feels like you’re losing him in real time. You’ve retreated so far into the corner that you’re fading into the background as the world continues on without you. You see him walking farther and farther away from you, disappearing into the crowd as he leaves you standing in the midst of it all. The thought of him leaving your life gnaws at you, puts you into a spiral of loneliness. You wanted this, didn’t you? For him to leave you alone?

Then why do you feel like you’ve been abandoned?

The stark reminder of his absence claws at your heart. You barely see him at home and it feels like you’re lost at sea, drifting away from the shore with each wave that the ocean carries. Getting out of bed feels like a monumental task. Your limbs feel heavy as if you’re being held back by a ball and chain. And you’re exhausted, even with the hours upon hours of sleeping and locking yourself away in your room, too tired to live. A part of you tells you you’re overreacting. You don’t even remember what had upset you in the first place, but you know one thing—

You don’t want him to go.

Being an adult comes with doing things you don’t want to do or are too afraid to do. This is just one of them. You’ll apologise to him with low expectations so you don’t break your heart, but you’ll fall into euphoria if he forgives you. He’s looking out for you. It’s not his fault. 

It’s yours.

You remember times in your childhood when he’d come get you after school with your favourite popsicle split in half, one for you and one for him. He’d ask about your day and his eyes twinkled with genuine interest as he listened to you go on and on about every detail that happened. The walk back home was always filled with joy. He feels like a distant memory, an echo of the past, and you wonder if he’s the one who changed or if it’s you.

Whoever it is, what was an unbreakable bond had shattered to pieces, and it was all by your own hand.

Self-hatred burns through you. You wish you were different. You wish you weren’t the way you are, so flawed and broken beyond repair. You wish you were like other women, those who are always on top of their game and strong no matter what life throws at them. Without realising it, you’ve already given up on yourself. You’re no longer loved by him; you’re an enemy, a monster, and the thought plagues your being.

The feeling of unworthiness lingers in your chest, a constant ache that wears down the edges of every thought. You remember the person you used to be with him before the explosion. Optimistic, hard-working, hopeful. She feels like a stranger now, like someone you used to know who left your life without saying anything. The weight of it all—the distance, the guilt, the silence—is becoming unbearable. He is slipping out of your grasp, ready to leave you as a memory of the past, and you’re falling further back. He is swimming to the surface while you are sinking deeper into vast nothingness, surrounded by the unknown. 

You wonder what he feels when he looks back at you. Is it pity, or is it resentment?

Or does he hardly feel anything at all?

The door opens, stopping your train of thought. You stagger up to your feet, quietly making your way to the entrance with your hands folded in front of you. Caleb’s eyes meet yours and you falter for a moment, every word you’ve rehearsed in your head going forgotten as time seems to be at a standstill. You muster up a smile, doing a little wave at him.

“Welcome home,” you say, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He returns with a smile of his own. “Thanks.”

You want to say something, anything, but no words come out; you don’t know where to begin with them. Instead, you stand there and smile awkwardly, completely lost and insecure. Your smile feels fake. You know he knows it is. It’s a façade you’re using to hide the turbulence within you. Caleb’s smile is polite and you want to run into his arms and tell him everything you’ve been feeling. Your heart drops when he looks away from you, ready to leave to attend to his own affairs.

“I’ll just, um, go,” you chuckle nervously. “Sorry, you must be busy. I’ll see you around.” 

Reluctantly, you withdraw and return to your room, shutting the door with a quiet click. Drained, you fall to the ground and bury your face in your hands, frustration oozing off of you in waves. Was that a good sign? Or was he faking his friendliness just to get you off his back? He doesn’t seem angry, but you’ve also never seen him angry. Anxiety harrows you as you stare at the ground, mind racing with what feels like thousands of possibilities. You wish he was easier to read. How can you know someone for so long but know nothing about them at all?

You ball your hands into fists and tremble, tears streaming down your cheeks before you can stop them. You’re falling behind. He’s already on the path to moving on but you’re still stuck in your spot, hopelessly wishing he’d turn back and ask if you want to try again. This fight—the one with him, the one with yourself—feels daunting. You’re but a frail little thing facing off with something grand and monumental. It towers over you, cloaks you in its shadow, emphasising the fact that you are nothing compared to it.

The world is quiet, and as you sit gazing upon your opponent, you start to wonder if this fight was even yours to win at all.

5. ACCEPTANCE

Before you know it, it’s the night before the promised third day.

You were lucky enough to be able to have breakfast with Caleb this morning. It felt tense and awkward, but he still maintained the conversation so effortlessly as if your outburst never happened at all. He left for work with a simple kind smile and told you to stay safe if you do go out. Even while you’re being unreasonable, he still has your best interests at heart, and the fact that your tantrum is lasting this long humiliates you to no end.

You spent the day out at the shopping district. The city was vibrant with the hustle and bustle in its streets and pedestrians. You heard laughter and chatter, joy that was spreading among people and their friends, and you’d never felt more alone. Even in a place swimming with people, you still felt so isolated like you were just a speck of dust. Eventually, your surroundings became white noise, and time went by like a blur. It felt as if someone else was taking control over your body. You numbly went through each stall searching for souvenirs to bring back to your loved ones back in Linkon City, spending away without hesitation. 

When the sun began its descent, you made your way back with several bags of new items in hand. You’d gone over budget, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. For a moment, you were completely fine, free from the crushing weight of the world on your shoulders. Returning to Caleb’s place took away the momentary lightheartedness and replaced it with something devastatingly hollow. You moved on autopilot, stepping into the shower and taking off your makeup, changing into more comfortable clothes. 

When you were done, you sat in the living room and watched whatever was playing on the television, its audio turning into background noise as you drifted away with your musings. Before you knew it, it was dark outside, and Caleb was back home. You parted your lips to say welcome back, but he had entered his room before you could call for him. Awkwardly, you returned to the television and fidgeted with your hands, nervousness entering your system the longer he was gone.

It seems to be a peaceful time for Skyhaven tonight. The media representative of the Farspace Fleet had come out to answer whatever rapid fire question the journalists had. Reassuring every citizen, he had said that the cleanup they’ve been doing is gradually wrapping up, and that the lockdown would be lifted soon. With nothing else to worry about for the time being, officers were allowed to return home early, including the Colonel himself. 

Caleb reappears in his loungewear and stops to look at you, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. “I’ll make dinner.”

“Okay,” you reply awkwardly, unsure of what to say. It doesn’t take long before he returns to the living room again, heading for the other end of the couch. Not wanting to disturb him, you leave him to his devices and stare ahead into the television, holding yourself back from looking at him repeatedly. It’s unusual for him to be home early, so you’re equally lost, completely clueless on how to function.

You sneak a glance at him. He’s reading a book, his brows furrowed in concentration as he immerses himself in creativity. He looks peaceful, so undisturbed, and you’re still not sure what to do. Even when you’ve been a brat, he still has your best interests at heart, and the fact that your tantrum has lasted for days humiliates you to no end. His consideration of you nearly brings tears to your eyes but you keep yourself together, not wanting to worry him.

You part your lips to speak only to close them again, frantically trying to come up with a coherent sentence in your head. He looks relaxed, so the chances of him reacting aggressively are low. You know he’d never raise his voice at you, but the paranoia hasn’t left you yet; everything you do needs a safety plan. Biting down on your bottom lip, you stare down at your hands before standing up, nervously wringing your hands behind your back.

Mustering up all the courage you have, you speak up, meekly, “I’m sorry.”

He looks up from his book, brows raised as he watches you in what appears to be confusion. You want to run away and hide, but he deserves this. It’s the least you can do.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry for lashing out. For acting up. It’s just… I’m just…”

He smiles softly, getting up from the couch and walking towards you. Bringing you close for a hug, he presses a soft kiss to your temple and squeezes your frame reassuringly. You melt into his touch, a burning sensation spreading in the centre of your face as your bottom lip quivers. You whine and hide your face in his sweater, desperately holding on to him as if he could disappear at any moment. You’ve already lost him once. You won’t lose him again.

You can’t.

“Please don’t leave me.” Your voice trembles as you speak and sniffle in between words. You grab onto the fabric of his sweater tightly, trying to keep yourself grounded. “I didn’t mean it. I won’t do it again—”

He sighs, content, and pulls you closer to him, letting you cry in his arms. His hand rubs soothing circles on your back as he hums a comforting tune, the same one he used to when you had nightmares as a kid.

“Silly girl,” he says, rocking you side to side. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

No one else will ever do it like him. He’s kind. He cares for you. He stays with you even with your volatility and your flaws. The resentment you’d been harbouring towards him douses you in guilt as you latch on to him, basking in his comfort. He’s only doing this because he cares. The disaster in your mind slowly unwinds and the grating voices that had been plaguing you the past week quiets down. 

He gently pulls away and brings his hands up to your cheeks before brushing away your tears with his thumbs, lulling you into a calmer state.

“It’s okay,” he coos. “I promise.”

Finally, you trust him, because he never makes promises he can’t keep.

[sorry-not-feeling-it-right-now]

Rethinking about the roles of Smitten and Skeptic and I think I understand why these two had never met each other one on one

(Again, very messy ramble, so be warned)

(You’re welcome to add more onto this in the tags)

It’s because of how their core selves, the reason how they were created, were complete opposites of each other, that there is no way for them to meet each other naturally

Opportunist and Hunted were able to meet naturally because of how they’re both survival tactics (socially and physically)

Stubborn and Broken are our reactions towards challenges (rivalry and submission)

Cold and Paranoid are reactions towards pain

And Contrarian and Cheated are reactions on the whole “nothing ever matters so might as well have fun!!!! :DDD” vs “everything matters and we’re fu@king getting through it out of spite” mindset

Smitten and Skeptic’s whole thing was about blind devotion and skepticism, both of them are reactions towards a person and/or a situation

One doesn’t think at all aside from the Princess,which leads to oversimplification, while the other overthinks which leads to overcomplicating things

One lives in fantasy land while the other grounds himself in reality, seeking the truth

In separating them, we see how similar they are with the twin routes despite them never meeting—their hyper focus on their goals, their inflexibility, etc etc

It’s impossible to be blindly believing in something when you’re skeptic about it, and impossible to be skeptic if you are truly believing and devoted to something. These two ideals just cancels each other out

That’s why Skeptic sucks in The Cage, because he’s overthinking a situation that really isn’t as complicated as he think it is

That’s why Smitten becomes so dangerous once you’ve slain the Princess, because he would want to live in a fantasy where you and the Princess would live happily ever after together, where the two of you are destined star-crossed lovers who were separated by “the evil narrator”

And the funny thing is, the truth is that you and the Princess are two halves of a whole separated by the narrator, which not only satisfies Smitten’s wish of a romantic tale of lovers separated, but it also satisfies Skeptic with those answers

So a meeting between them would either have them getting along, complete chaos and arguments, or just somewhere in between like the other voices are

Skeptic would definitely question Smitten’s impossible ideal of a Happily Ever After, while Smitten would just tell Skeptic not to overthink stuff and focus on the Princess

Maybe Skeptic would hear Smitten out that the Princess might be important and put focus on questioning her(or just her in general)

I feel like if there’s a route with the two of them together they may or may not drive each other insane with their hyper focus on different things, or they would both end up with a solution where the both of them are happy

It’s hard to tell

[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 💖❤️