#wuthering waves angst
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n0tamused · 10 months ago
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I don't k know if your busy or not but is it alright with you doing a Jiyan x injured reader? Like one day reader got hurt and decide to not tell Jiyan but he soon found out?
Thank you for your time and have a great day/noon/night
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Contents: Jiyan x GN!Reader, angst, ends on a better note, hope you enjoy this anon :)
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Thundering drums fill his ears with their haunting echoes as he raced through the sea of moving soldiers. 
Strands of his hair were loose from its ponytail with more strands sticking to his sweaty forehead, small parts matted with mud and dust. His clothes weren't shown any more mercy, with parts cut here and there with blood speckled throughout. Yet, it wasn't his clothes and hair that were haunting, but his face. Pale and eyes wide, devoid of any emotion in particular and looking like two deep voids that threatened anyone they looked at.
Jiyan’s heart was echoing, drumming and beating, but he couldn't feel any of it with how cold his very blood felt - he could swear he was dead and this was hell.
He rushed through into the open corner of the base dedicated for treating the injured, his eyes jumping from one face to the other, searching.
His feet had a mind of their own as they walked past the injured and the unconscious, sparing them some looks and bathed words of reassurance, his tone so soft that, were he in a better mindset, he would've asked whether the other even heard him properly.
There!
His mind yells, jumping at the first sign of the familiar head of hair. It's you! His heart leaps further up until he can taste the metal wash over his tongue. Days have passed since he has seen you vanish off the battlefield and he had grown restless by the day, wishing he could deny the possibility that you could be gone forever. So when word reached him you were found injured and brought back to the medics, he was racing at first chance.
He is quick as the wind, running up to where you were laying, arms and torso all up in bandages, the smell of medicine and herbs so heavy in the air it made even his nose scrunch. “Y/n!” he calls to you when he sees your lashes fluttering, one sign you were awake, and your movement the second sign. You are alive, despite a little voice in his head telling him this is just a cruel illusion. His hand finds yours, fingers curling around it and holding it, closer to him, feeling your warmth before two fingers slide to the inside of your wrist out of pure instinct to feel your life pulse for himself.
“Ji..Jiyan?” 
“It is me, (Y/n).. Are you in pain, are you alright?” His mind is reeling with questions and all the ways to scold you but he can’t bring himself to be angry, he lost the capacity to be angry at you ages ago - he just feels scared, the empty abyss within him yawning for reassurance of your state and yearning to swallow you into its void where you couldn’t come to harm.
“I..I’m alright” On cue, your cough interrupts your response, making your chest jump and your torso attempts to pull itself up. Jiyan is quick and cautious as he helps you sit upward, rubbing your back up and down as your coughing fit subsides. “Have you eaten anything?” He asks as his eyes drink in the details of your face - pale skin, half lidded eyes, cracked lips and few scrapes littered across your exposed skin. You shake your head, barely able to tell what he was doing as he moved about you like a bumblebee, hopping from here to there and bringing a flask of water up to your lips and helping you drink. The water feels heavenly as it slides down your throat, quenching the feeling of an upcoming fever.
“Tell me what happened..” His voice is softer now, quieter as he wishes to keep some sense of privacy even in this open space, but it is no less worried and pent up with tension that squeezes him. His eyes are quick to meet yours when they look up at long last, looking at him and taking in his own disheveled appearance. 
Your lips open and close as you search your brain for adequate words, but it takes a moment for you to gather your thoughts. “My memory is muddy from the actual battle, but I remember you being ahead of me.. and I was dealing with a couple of TDs behind you.. I.. I bit off more than I could chew, and I led them far away from you and the others but there were... just too many.. I was surrounded- I did my best, Jiyan.. But I slipped somewhere along the way.. I don’t know what happened afterwards. I only woke up two days ago..”
“Why didn’t you send word for me?” he bites the inside of his cheek, stopping himself from sounding frustrated or accusing. Images of your retelling paint themselves vividly in his mind, and his heart aches and bleeds for you.
“I wanted to heal first..” you mutter with a small shrug, not knowing the true answer yourself, even as guilt and regret seeps into your heart. “I’m sorry..”
“It’s.. It’s alright.. you are here now” He sighs as his eyes flicker down to your wounds, and he then takes a look around. Jiyan’s heart is too weary to simply leave it at this, too frightened to just let you be after days of believing you were dead. He looks back to you, a bold hand cupping the side of your face and helping you look up at him. 
“I’ll go see if there are any free rooms inside the base where I can help you change these bandages, they are in a dire need of redressing.. Then I’ll get you something to eat, alright?”
You could cry at his words, his kindness and desperation to help you not escape your fuzzy brain, so you only nod, lips pressed into a firm line. He notices your eyes become watery and shock flickers over his visage, and faster than he could know he is already cupping your face with both hands. “Hey…” he whispers, worrying, filling his golden eyes that only sought to comfort you, not sadden you. Or were you in even more pain now? He feels a rush go through him, needing to get you somewhere where he can hold you.  “It’s alright.. I’m not mad at you, alright? Breathe..” he soothes your eyes that flutter shut when the pads of his thumb brushes over it. You nod again, swallowing your tears. 
“I’m okay..”
“You’ll be okay, my love.. just leave it all to me..”
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Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.
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digiflora · 10 months ago
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— 𝐖𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 ♡
( requests are currently OPEN! )
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SCAR °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
AALTO ☦︎⋆.˚
JIYAN ⋆ ˚。⋆౨ৎ˚
CALCHARO ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
XIANGLI YAO ◞♡
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ᥫ᭡ main masterlist
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coldherxriah · 10 months ago
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So, Jiyan's one-shot won the poll
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xichilie · 1 month ago
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Oh my god I love your Brant fanfics! You write so well and do him justice 🥺 Could I ask for a Brant X Reader where they used to be childhood sweethearts before he got banished but when they finally reunite after the Carnevale and while they have changed physically as they have grown up into adulthood, their feelings have remained the same throughout all those years? 🫶🏻
Omg yes, I've been thinking about this for a while, especially since it was said he was banished at a young age, my poor baby suffered a lot i just wanna hug him and shower him with all the love he deserves 🥺
Brant x (fem) reader
A Reunion Written in the Stars
Ragunna had not changed.
The towering cathedrals still cast long shadows over the cobblestone streets, their stained-glass windows catching the dying light of day. The scent of salt and incense lingered in the air, the same strange mix of the sacred and the sea that Brant had known since childhood. People still moved in measured steps, heads bowed in whispered prayer or quiet murmurs of uncertainty.
No, Ragunna had not changed.
But Brant had.
He was a child the last time he stood on these streets—small, trembling, filled with the kind of fear that only children could know. He had clutched at his mother’s hand as the Order of the Deep passed judgment upon him. Faithless, they had called him. A Fool. And fools, as everyone knew, did not belong in Ragunna.
He had been thrown onto the Pilgrim’s Sail, an exile meant to end in death. Yet against all odds, against the cruel designs of fate itself—he had survived. And now, years later, he had returned.
The people whispered as he walked past, their eyes full of wary recognition. Some murmured his name as if summoning a ghost. Others looked away, unsure of how to meet his gaze. He ignored them all.
There was only one person he cared to see.
His feet moved with instinct, following streets he had not walked in over a decade. Each step was heavy, his breath tight in his chest. What if she had left? What if she had moved on? The world had continued without him, as much as it pained him to admit it. He had no right to expect her to wait for him.
But still—he had to know.
Then, as he turned the final corner, he saw it. The house was the same as he remembered, worn but well-kept, bathed in the golden glow of the evening sun.
And then—
"Brant?"
His heart stopped.
She stood in the doorway, framed by the dying light, her figure so achingly familiar and yet so different. Her hair was longer now, the softness of childhood replaced by the quiet strength of a woman grown. Her eyes, though—those same fierce, determined eyes—had not changed at all.
Brant stood frozen as he took in the sight of Y/N, his heart pounding in his chest. He had imagined this moment countless times, rehearsed his words, but now that she was in front of him, nothing could have prepared him for the sheer depth of emotion washing over him.
Y/N stared at him, her lips parting slightly as if she were struggling to believe what she was seeing. Her eyes, once bright with youthful mischief, now brimmed with unshed tears. She took a hesitant step forward, then another, before suddenly breaking into a run.
"Brant!" she cried, her voice thick with emotion.
Before he could brace himself, she collided into him, arms wrapping tightly around his torso. The force nearly knocked him off balance, but he quickly steadied himself, his own arms coming around her in a desperate embrace. The scent of her hair, the warmth of her body—it was all so achingly familiar, yet distant, as if pulled from a dream he had long ago abandoned hope of reliving.
"You're here..." Her voice cracked as she gripped his coat tightly, her shoulders trembling. "You're really here."
Brant felt a lump form in his throat. He gently tilted her face up to his, brushing away the tears that slipped down her cheeks with his calloused fingers. "I told you I’d come back," he whispered, his own voice unsteady.
A broken sob escaped her lips as she buried her face in his chest, her fingers clutching at his coat as though he might disappear again if she let go. Brant held her tighter, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head.
"I thought I lost you forever," she admitted between sobs.
Brant’s arms tightened around her, his hand running soothingly up and down her back. "Never," he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers. "I survived, Y/N. And I fought my way back to you."
Y/N hiccuped, half-laughing, half-crying. "You idiot. You always were too stubborn."
Brant chuckled, though his own eyes shimmered with emotion. "And you always worried too much."
She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her hands still resting on his chest. "I missed you so much."
His expression softened as he cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing soothing circles against her skin. "I missed you too. More than words can say."
For a moment, they just stood there, lost in each other's presence. The world around them faded into the background—the bustling city, the curious onlookers, the weight of the past. All that remained was the warmth between them, the unspoken promise in their embrace.
Finally, Brant broke the silence, his lips curving into a teasing smirk. "So... does this mean I get a proper welcome home kiss? Or am I going to have to win your heart all over again?"
Y/N laughed through her tears, shaking her head as she cupped his face in her hands. "You never lost it, Brant."
And with that, she pressed her lips to his, sealing the years of longing, heartbreak, and hope into one soul-deep kiss. Brant melted into it, pouring every unspoken word into the way he held her, promising in that moment that he would never let her go again.
She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands trembling as they reached up to cup his face. Her fingertips ghosted over his cheekbones, tracing the sharper angles that had not been there when they were children.
"You look different," she whispered, searching his face as though memorizing it all over again. "But you're still—" Her voice caught, and she shook her head, blinking back tears. "You're still you."
Brant exhaled shakily, reaching up to cover her hand with his own. "And you’re still you."
A small, broken laugh escaped her, and before she could stop herself, she threw her arms around him once more, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He felt her breath hitch, felt the way her shoulders shook, and his own throat tightened in response.
"I never forgot you," she murmured against his skin.
Brant pressed his forehead to her temple. "Neither did I."
She let out a shaky breath, pulling back just enough to look at him again. "I waited for you," she admitted softly, almost like a confession.
He felt something deep within him crack. He lifted a hand to cradle her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear she hadn’t even realized had fallen.
"I know," he said, his voice full of quiet reverence. "And I’m so sorry it took so long."
She shook her head fiercely. "You're here now. That’s all that matters."
He swallowed past the lump in his throat, nodding. He wanted to say so much more, wanted to tell her everything—about the years lost, about the countless nights he had thought of her, about the sheer desperation that had kept him going. But for now, this moment was enough.
She took his hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. "Come inside," she urged gently. "Tell me everything."
Brant let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. "I’d like that."
And as she led him through the doorway, into the warmth of the home he had feared he would never see again, he realized—
For the first time in years, he was home.
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aventurineswife · 5 months ago
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Could I request Jiyan's lover running up to him and snuggling him because they miss his presence?
Home Is in Your Arms
Summary: After days apart, you reunite with Jiyan, as he returns from his mission. Overwhelmed with longing, you rush into his arms, finding solace in his quiet, steadfast presence. Jiyan, always stoic and composed, allows himself to be vulnerable with you, sharing a tender moment that reminds you both of the unbreakable bond you share amidst the chaos of war.
Tags: Jiyan x Reader, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Reunion, Emotional Vulnerability,Soft Moments, Longing.
Warnings: Brief mentions of war and violence (non-descriptive), Light angst due to separation.
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(cr: guaisanmu on Twitter/X)
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The sun was just beginning to dip behind the mountains, casting Jinzhou in hues of amber and rose. The camp was unusually quiet; most of the Midnight Rangers had returned from their patrols and, by now, had settled into their tents for the evening. Only one figure remained at the edge of the camp, standing against the breeze as though he were part of the landscape itself. Jiyan’s silhouette was framed by the setting sun, his long teal hair catching the dying light as it shifted in the breeze.
You stood back, watching him. It felt as if he’d been gone forever, although it had only been a few days. Each moment without him was like an ache, a silence that stretched too far. Jiyan had warned you before he left that his patrol might take longer, but no amount of preparation had eased the loneliness that crept in each night. Now, with him in sight, that emptiness dissolved, replaced by a warmth you could hardly contain.
Without thinking, you broke into a sprint, your feet barely making a sound as they skimmed over the grass. Jiyan’s back was to you, his gaze fixed somewhere far off, his attention consumed by unspoken thoughts. But the moment you wrapped your arms around him, he knew it was you. A barely perceptible sigh escaped him, his shoulders softening as your arms closed around his waist.
"Back already?" His voice was soft, even as he kept his gaze forward. But his hand found yours, warm and reassuring as he pulled your hands closer against his chest. You felt the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, grounding you.
"I missed you," you whispered, your face pressed against his back. The fabric of his modified hanfu was rough beneath your cheek, but it held the faint scent of cedar and the earthy tones of the forest. "It feels like you've been gone for ages."
He shifted, slowly turning to face you. Those intense eyes of his softened as they met yours, and a hint of a smile—small, but genuine—played at his lips. It was the smile he saved for moments like these, for you alone.
"I’m here now," he said, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "I didn’t mean to worry you."
You couldn’t help but lean into his touch, craving the warmth of his palm against your cheek. "It’s impossible not to worry about you. Especially when you’re out there, fighting Tacet Discords alone." You paused, looking up into his eyes. "I just… need you to come back to me. Every time."
He let out a soft hum, nodding in that quiet way of his, the way that carried both promise and understanding. "I will." His hand lingered on your face, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin. "But remember, there’s something worth returning to."
The vulnerability in his gaze was rare, a crack in the stoic armor he wore around everyone else. And for a brief moment, you saw past the warrior and the general, to the man who sometimes questioned his path, who worried about the battles he couldn’t fight with strength alone.
You slipped your arms around him again, and this time, he didn’t hesitate. He drew you close, wrapping his arms around you with a gentle firmness that left no space between you. It was as though he, too, had missed the comfort of your embrace, had needed this closeness more than he could admit.
For a long time, the two of you stood there in silence. His fingers ran soothingly along your back, grounding you in his warmth, his presence. The world around you faded, the distant threat of Tacet Discords, the quiet of the camp, everything except the steady beat of his heart against yours.
“I’ll come back to you, every time,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "No matter how far I go."
You nodded, not needing any further words. In that embrace, you understood that, for tonight at least, he was home.
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alwayscorvus · 9 months ago
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Feeling Obliged
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Feeling Obliged
Part 2 of "Do not forget your place", but u can read Part 2 without reading Part 1 bodyguard!malereader x Yuanwu;
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Several weeks have passed since that incident. You were probably already approaching three months. But you weren't too concerned about it. You had lived together for so long that such a period of time wasn't a big deal for you. Besides, you didn't expect that anything would change.
After so many unrequited gestures, one sentence of disapproval was enough. The longer you thought about it, the more you wondered why such a minor quarrel, not even big enough for a serious argument, could successfully and completely change your view of world and your relationship with person dearest to you. The only one dear to you.
After looking into it, you came to the conclusion that your first thesis was true. And fact that Yuanwu rejected your help and affection was the biggest reason why it hurt you so much.
Yet, things like that happened many times before.
After all, more than once, sensing danger, you quickened your pace, passed your boss and, with a sudden movement, put your straightened arm out in front of Yuanwu's chest. Bumping against his body and blocking his further path.
While Yuanwu, as always pushed your arm away and kept moving. Falling into the trap.
Or, more than once, after carefully studying his new companions, and expressing your doubts and evidence of they impure intentions, you almost begged him to not meet them.
While Yuanwu, as always shrugged it off and came back with bruises and cuts. Or rather… you did.
You experienced plenty situations of that kind. But you quessed that everyone has to break at some point. Despite the big amount of things they endured. Or precisely because of them. And that particular event, a few weeks ago, was exactly your final straw.
Because of which you moved out. Yes. After more than ten years of living together, you finally moved out. You were proud to say that you finally had your first own apartment. After being kicked out of family home because of debts, your only chapter in life was Yuanwu. And now… Now you even had your own place to live. One that you earned by yourself, with work of your own hands. True, it was a job under Yuanwu and therefore his money…, but still, it was the idea that counted.
Apartment was tiny. One room included both: a single bed, a TV corner with double sofa, and a kitchenette wide for only two cabinets with refrigerator. Only bathroom was actually separated. However, that was enough for you. What more could a bodyguard without hobbies or friends need. Especially since you were in your new home only occasionally. Mostly to sleep. Your job, after all, was mostly 24/7.
Yes, you also considered quitting your job and leaving past behind. But you couldn't. Something was holding you back. And it wasn't even that stubborn desire to take care of the only person close to you, anymore. Rather, it was a sense of obligation. You owed Yuanwu a lot. In fact, your entire existence. He gave you a reasons to live when you were lost, helpless and completely vulnerable. Gave you the resources. Became your mentor and only friend. If it weren't for him, you'd probably still be wandering around this shabby streets. Begging for pennies for food. Getting into fights with passersby. Sleeping covered with cardboard boxes. Or worse… You would no longer be on this world at all.
Since you protected him for so long with your body and Yuanwu had already gotten used to a walking shield around him, you couldn't just abandon him. Even if he strongly believe that he was doing great on his own.
Something could happen…
Not that you were still openly bothered about his well-being!
Since that event, you have become cold. What's more, you haven't spoken a word. You only used head movements to greet and express agreement. You stopped voicing your opinion on any topics of conversation. And in strictly business matters, requiring some kind of report or information about someone, you used documents made beforehand and directly handed to Yuanwu at the right moment.
You also rarely granted Yuanwu with a glance. For most of the time, you stared blankly into a space, looking out for some kind of threat. This was something your boss couldn't stand anymore and that's a reason why he finally broke.
At first he waited about two weeks without reacting. Since you didn't say anything, he didn't either. He thought that it was just a short phase. That it would pass soon. A teenager's rebellion.
The problem is that you were no longer a teenager.
Starting from your first meeting, you were a grown-up man who made aware decisions. And whatever Yuanwu did, whatever he hoped for, he couldn't change your feelings, behaviors or goals.
He could only try to accept them or slightly modify them. Show a different way, a different approach.
That's why, around a third week, he was the one who took the lead. He started chatting about trivial matters. Gossips from the market, stories from the gym. Things that he was already in a habit of doing. Almost as if nothing had happened.
However, that didn't help either. What's more, it even worsen the situation. You felt annoyed by his ignorance.
For a good week and a half he tried to force a chat with you. In company of a finest teas, imported from distant countries.
Corners of your mouth didn't twitch even by a millimeter by that.
Yuanwu began to miss your laughter, your smile… Your teasing, your jokes, your remarks. Your habits and weaknesses. Everything.
He began to miss you.
Moment of brokenness and weakness arrived. Yuanwu came to the conclusion that there was no point of trying and he started living as normal again.
You got surprised by his attitude. This lack of patience was definitely not in his style. But maybe you were the reason why he acted this way. Not that you had any hopes for meaning anything more to him.
After some time however he realized once again that he couldn't live without you being your actual true self. And he began to put an effort again
In quite extreme time you have already experienced many stages. Which led you to your current situation.
-Here. The one that I made when you first came to me - he said rather proudly, placing another cup of hot tea on a small wooden pallet.
You spared it only with a glance. Memories floated back, but you weren't easy to bribe. You let him sit next to you on a comfortable cushions that covered a small linen patio sofa.
Although you were not interested in the drink, some passing by bee decided to leave one of the flowers of surrounding you greenery and get closer to that sweet aroma.
Yuanwu clearly wasn't happy with this turn of events.
-I think that's enough. We should just finally make up and forget about it.
You turned to him rapidly. Moving slightly back and looking truly dumbfounded. You couldn't believe in what you were hearing.
-Don't look at me like that, just listen. We are too old to feel offended. And we've been through too much to let one minor encounter, where you got hurt, ruin it all. It's ridiculous-
You couldn't stand it. You rose from your chair and glared.
-No, you listen. You know very well that it wasn't about that meeting. Nor was it about the fact that I got wounded. More than once I got your bullets or risked my life for you. I didn't care. And I don't care. Because i love you -you spat the words through your teeth, almost reaching to the point of screaming- You know this, you always knew. But you didn't do anything about it. For so many years you gave me hope just to one day, about which I am currently doing such a fuss about according to you, took it all away from me. And you know why? I know. Because you don't care about my feelings. You never cared about them. Unless they fitted to your own idea. Unless it was convenient for -pure venom came out of your mouth- But quees what. I'm done with that. I'm done chasing you. And if you're missing anything now, it's a person completely in love with you. Who you won't get again, because you didn't want it yourself.
You almost knocked yourself out, but thanks to your determination and clenched fists, you managed to convey whole message.
Yuanwu looked at you terrified. Exactly like in that alley. You hated that.
Now it was even more clear to him that he would not get back the old, obedient version of you. That the only version he could get was the one with romantic feelings. Which could dangerously start to fade away if Yuanwu didn't get his shit together.
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Annoying knocking woke you up from your afternoon nap. You growled at it displeased. Only one person knew your address. That's why you didn't even hope for the noise to die quickly.
-Coooming! - you shouted truly unwelcomingly.
You opened a door without even looking at who it was. In a hurry, you returned to your beloved bed and threw yourself on it with all the weight of your body.
As expected, Yuanwu quickly made himself comfortable. He crossed the threshold of your apartment, closed the door and looked around. This was the first time he had been here. You hadn't allowed him to help you choose a place to live previously, despite his insistent requests.
Yuanwu scanned your property with judging eyes. Apartment may have been very neat and tidy. But definitely too small for you. You would have been better at his place. He couldn't understand how you could want to move away from him.
Or rather, he didn't want to understand. But he had to. And that's why he was here.
Blue Yuanwu took off his coat and laid it gently on the couch along with his hat. Trying not to prolong, he took a heavy seat on a bed right next to you. He rested his elbows on his thighs and bent down. Admiring a wooden floor by that.
Yuanwu took a deep breath.
-Sorry. I know that I was being an… how people your age call it? An asshole?
Good start.
-Shut up, you are not that much older from me.
You playfully kicked him with your foot, turning your back to him. You settled down with your arms crossed. Trying hard to avoid his gaze. Almost pretending to be offended. Even though all your grudge from yesterday had long since passed. Finally, after so many weeks of sitting in silence and contemplating, emotions began to drain themselves away. And the last dose of them left with your confession. Which itself became some kind of cleaning ritual to you. Admitting a long-hidden secret after such a long time allowed you to experience true peace of mind.
Yuanwu snickered at your words.
-Right. I could never process this information and therefore accept it. I have always had a sense of responsibility towards you. Ever since I first saw you… With scratched face, stained clothes, and that torn olive sleeveless shirt. Despite your pitiful state, you kept hitting that boxing bag with whole heart. That impressed me. Or whatever you can call that feeling -he waved his hand after a second of doubt- You had that fierce look in your eyes. Although I have to admit that your first punches were pretty shitty-
He teased you and received a new nudge in return.
-Look, I know what you're hoping for. And you're right, I knew for a long time. After the first year of our relationship, something began to change. I didn't understand it at first. Never in my life would I think that-
He paused for a moment and, slightly stressed, began to play with his fingers.
-But then that bartender dropped a comment after you went to the bathroom. And elderly saleswomen from a market began to question the character of our relationship. Then it got to me. But I didn't do anything about it. And it's not because I don't care about your feelings. Everything I've done for these past years, I've done only for you and your happiness, you know that.
Yuanwu's voice wasn't cracking, it was well balanced and toned down as always. However, he was slowly finding it harder and harder to choose his words. Admitting the truth hurt. Not only him, but also you. But you couldn't turn around. You didn't want to look at him, you couldn't. Not now.
He lifted his gaze up toward the ceiling. Relaxed his muscles a little and, after another inhale, continued:
-But I just didn't know if I could give it to you. What you were hoping for all along. Whether I was able to return your feelings. Over time it became easier to simply pretend, to ignore. When you started talking in the alley about how you cared about me-
He hesitated for a moment.
-I couldn't let you continue. I was afraid that this would be the moment when you would finally confess your feelings to me. And I will no longer be able to pretend it's not there. Live in my perfect illusion- he snickered over a hilariousness of his persona- But it was of little use. Because it all came crashing down anyway. My perfect peace collapsed like a house of cards. And I can't be surprised. Everyone has his limits. And I abused yours all too much.
You nodded your head to yourself. You had to admit that here he was right. Nevertheless, what were you supposed to do with this information?
-Will you finally look at me? -he asked with anticipation.
You persisted unmoved.
Yuanwu merely sighed. But he didn't intend to back off. Not now. Not after all this time.
-I know I hurt your feelings a lot. But I hope you will forgive me despite everything. At least for the sake of our good old days. And if you let me- If-… If you-…. If you guide me-…. I-… -
He really couldn't get it out.
-I'll be the happiest man on earth if you teach me what it's like to love.
You immediately rose up from your place.
-Yuanwu, you don't have to-.
-But I want to. And not out of guilt. Nor do I want to bribe you to come back to me. I want to do it for myself. No matter how selfish it may sound. By those weeks when you didn't speak to me I realized -voice got caught in his throat- that I can also feel something more. And it's not just a matter of habit. I simply learned to look at you from a different perspective.
Yuanwu went breathless. He felt a sudden embrace on him. Your strong arms squeezed him tightly from behind. The feeling was so… warm. Completely different from others. From hugs of gym customers, good old friends, or mothers grateful for teaching their sons love of sport and rescuing them from a bad crowd. This gesture was marked with something special. Something like an endless longing.
-Yuanwu -you said in a serious voice, trying to cool your thoughts- I forgive you and promise to come back to you in my old version. But you really don't have to do that. I don't want you to-
Yuanwu stopped you and turned his head in your direction. Feeling his piercing gaze, you opened your eyes, which you unknowingly clenched a minutes ago. Overwhelmed by emotions.
You were now looking straight at each other, and your faces were separated just by millimeters.
-But what if I don't want the old you? What if I want to get to know the new you?
His voice suddenly became soft. Almost sweet, melodic, as if... seductive?
A spark went through your body.
In a split second, your bodies moved on their own. And your lips joined, sealing your new contract.
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mm-lurking · 10 months ago
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When the rain stops
I got soaked in the rain so I wrote this. Not proofread. Written with Blade, Al-Haitham and Jiyan in my mind but you can imagine your favourites.
Warnings: x fem! reader, angst WC: 817 — Nothing registers in your mind except the icy freezing water that washes over your body in large raindrops. Your fingertips are cold and rock hard from the downpour that has caught you halfway through your journey. The slashes and stab wound you have obtained from your body bleed into your clothes and the ground you stand on.
Everything feels numb in comparison to the rain. You’re trembling as the clothes you wear stick to your body and the harsh breeze that passes by makes it worse. The water has pooled around your feet, soaking through your shoes and no matter how hard you try nothing keeps the aggressive battering of the rain away.
By the time you reach your destination the biting cold gets to you and you find yourself stumbling in your steps. The loss of blood further exacerbates your fragile state. Each movement of your feet feels heavy no matter how hard you push through. The rain blinds you completely and your vision starts to blur.
Your knees give out causing you to go crashing into the gravel path. The metallic smell of blood mixes with the earthy rain assaulting your nose with the strangest odor you have ever encountered. Somehow, alongside the odor, you get a whiff of a familiar masculine scent, one that reminds you of him.
What follows are urgent footsteps and a warm pair of arms that envelop you from the back. Suddenly the rain stops above your head followed by a deep raspy voice you so dearly love to hear.
“You’re hurt.”
He says concerned as he discards his coat and kneels down to your level to wrap it around you. The additional layer of thick fabric greatly shields you from the rain and you can’t help but smile deliriously. Without a word he presses you deeper into his chest as he checks your injuries.
“This stab wound…who did this to you?”
You can sense a tinge of anger in his voice which further makes you smile. Something about him caring for you despite his reserved attitude surprises you. Instead of replying, you weakly cling your fingers on the thin fabric of his chest and lazily nod.
“Doesn’t…doesn’t matter…”
You mumble out and dig your head deeper into his chest. All you can think about is how incredibly warm he is compared to the raging rain that shows no sign of stopping. He wraps his hands tighter around you in response.
Then he immediately scoops you up in his arms making sure to avoid the injured skin before hurriedly walking to a place of retreat to tend to your weakened state. You’re cold and limp against his warm and alive body. Now that the rain no longer storms on you, you feel the pain of your wounds emerging from your throat as you uncomfortably groan.
“Shh…almost there.”
He responds soothingly to your agony. With the little energy you have left, you peek at the man who carries you so lovingly. All you can see is his sharp jawline and the popping of his neck veins as he looks ahead. You observe the rain soaks some of his hair and face, coating him with a glistening glow that makes your heart beat a tad faster.
“It’s alright…you don’t have to…”
He tries to ignore how shallow your breathing is and how your blood seeps into his own clothes. Your body feels more lifeless in his warm hands with each passing second. He notes how your tiny fingers have loosened their grip on his shirt and he tries not to panic at the lack of movement you display.
“Nonsense. We are almost there.”
His fingers almost dig into your skin despite the layers you have on. Even though his voice is unwavering and resolute, the pounding of his heart betrays him. Through the last few threads of consciousness remaining in you, you chuckle.
“You’re wasting your time on me…”
“Stop talking.”
He chides you and you smile. Everything is starting to feel more distant and dreamy as black dots swarm your vision. Your fingers that were holding onto his shirt so desperately drop into your lap and your head falls back. The sudden change prompts him to look at you and he feels blood drain from his face. You’re still like the waters of a lake with a tiny smile. He calls you out but you do not respond.
“Stay with me. Stay with me!”
He says with more urgency as he shakes you but only silence fills the air. There is a flurry of curses that run through his head as he finally reaches his destination and rushes to ask for help. When the rain finally stops and your wounds are observed carefully, all he can do is stare at your pale face in horror as your eyes remain closed and dried blood decorates your skin.
Maybe, just maybe it was too late.
⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.
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fictionally-driven · 10 months ago
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You Deserve Better
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Pairing: Calcharo x f!reader Word count: 4020 words
Trigger warnings: Injury mention, stress, anxiety, implied relationship, angst, heartbreaks
Plot: Calcharo, burdened by his dark past and aware of the danger he poses to (Y/N), is unable to see how his choices hurt her. To ensure that she gets the life she deserves, Calcharo makes an impossible choice.
Author Note: I am not paying for anyone's therapy and I apologize in advance for hurting y'all :3 This fic was inspired by the song You Deserve Better by James Arthur
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The door creaked open with a hesitant groan; its sound amplified in the dead silence of the house. Calcharo stepped inside, every movement deliberate, every step weighed with the exhaustion that clung to him like the grime and dried blood matted against his skin. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and iron, mingling with the faint aroma of alcohol wafting from the living room.
He paused, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. Calcharo moved with practiced stealth, mindful not to disturb the peace. Yet, as he stepped into the living room, a sharp scent of alcohol pricked his senses, cutting through the familiar mustiness of home.
In the living room, he saw her—(Y/N). Her head was bowed, shoulders trembling with quiet sobs. A nearly empty bottle of wine lay cradled in her lap, her fingers gripping it like a lifeline. The sight pierced through Calcharo’ s hardened exterior. His heart clenched painfully at the sight. He had been supposed to return two days ago, but complications had delayed him. The mission had been brutal, and communication had been impossible. He knew she worried, but seeing her like this, shattered and vulnerable, was worse.
The sound of his footfall drew her attention. Her head snapped up, and the relief that washed over her face was instantaneous. "(Y/N)," he breathed, the single word heavy with unspoken apologies and unexpressed emotions.
For a heartbeat, she simply stared, as if ensuring he was real and not a figment of her desperate mind. Then, in an instant, she was on her feet, the bottle forgotten as it clattered to the floor. She crossed the space between them in a few quick strides, flinging herself into his arms with a force that nearly knocked the breath out of him.
"Oh, thank God," she murmured against his chest, her voice trembling. "I was so worried... I couldn't reach you... I feared the worst..." The grime and blood smeared onto her clothes, but she didn't seem to care. All that mattered was that he was here, alive.
Calcharo held her close, his arms encircling her with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the brutality of his profession. He could feel her trembling, her body wracked with the remnants of her sobs. He rested his chin on top of her head, closing his eyes as he soaked in her presence. For a moment, he allowed himself to forget the bloodshed, the danger, and just be here, with her.
"I'm here," he murmured, his voice roughened by exhaustion. "I'm here, (Y/N)."
She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands cupping his face. Her thumbs traced the lines of dirt and blood, her eyes scanning his features as if reassuring herself that he was truly there, in one piece.
"I thought I'd lost you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Two days, Calcharo... I didn't know if you were ever coming back."
He could see the toll those two days had taken on her—dark circles under her eyes, her face pale and drawn. The weight of his absence was etched into every line of her expression.
"I'm sorry," he said, the words falling heavy and sincere. "The mission... it took longer than expected.”
(Y/N) nodded in understanding, her eyes softening with acceptance. "Have you eaten yet?" she asked.
Calcharo opened his mouth to respond, but she already knew the answer. "Of course, you haven't," she murmured, more to herself than to him. "I'll whip something up quickly. You should shower and get cleaned up in the meantime."
She always did this—pushing aside her own worries to care for him. She was a good woman, far too good for a man like him. He'd put her through situations like this too many times already, and every time, she was patient, loving, unwavering. He simply nodded, retreating to the shower to clean the grit off him while she headed to the kitchen.
The shower hissed to life, and as the hot water cascaded over him, he could smell her shampoo, her soap—those familiar, comforting scents that grounded him, reminding him that he was back home. He scrubbed the grime and blood off his skin, but he couldn't scrub away the memories, the guilt, the deeds he'd done. The water turned pink as it swirled down the drain, a cruel reminder that some stains never truly fade.
Patting himself dry, he slipped into a pair of pants and draped a towel over his shoulders. The mirror reflected a man weary beyond his years; his eyes shadowed with memories too dark to recount. With a heavy sigh, he left the bathroom, the comforting scent of her products still lingering on his skin. He couldn't delay any longer. He needed to check on (Y/N).
Walking into the kitchen, he found her standing by the stove, her hands moving deftly as she prepared a simple meal. Despite her woozy state from the alcohol, she was focused, determined to take care of him. Calcharo approached quietly, his presence announcing itself only when he was close enough to touch her. He took over the cooking process without a word, gently nudging her aside.
Her eyes traversed his form, widening as they fell upon a gnarly cut on his forearm. "Calcharo, you're hurt," she gasped, her voice tinged with a mixture of concern and reprimand. She clicked her tongue, rushing to get the medical kit.
"Let me see," she said, her tone shifting to the professional calm of a medic. (Y/N) was a former medic, and dealing with injuries was second nature to her. She laid out the supplies with a precision born of habit, her hands moving swiftly but with a tenderness that belied the severity of the wound.
Calcharo watched her work in silence, the ache in his chest deepening as he realized how much he relied on her strength, her compassion. She cleaned the wound methodically, her touch gentle yet firm.
"It's deep," she murmured, her voice tinged with concern as she applied antiseptic with careful precision. "You should have taken care of this sooner."
"I didn't notice," Calcharo replied quietly, his gaze fixed on her face. "I was... distracted."
She glanced up at him, her eyes searching his as if trying to read the depths of his soul. "I worry about you," she admitted softly, her fingers wrapping gauze around his arm to secure the dressing. "Every time you go out there..."
Calcharo’ s heart clenched at her words, the weight of her worry pressing down on him. He reached out, cupping her cheek gently with his clean hand, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "I know," he murmured, his voice raw with emotion. “I am sorry, love…”
She didn't protest. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her eyes closing briefly as if seeking solace in his warmth. For a moment, they simply stood there, bound together by unspoken words and shared experiences.
Calcharo knew. He knew in the depths of his soul that his profession, his life as the leader of the Ghost Hounds, was a poison seeping into (Y/N)'s veins. It wasn't just the worry etched on her face every time he left, nor the fear that gnawed at her when he returned battered and broken. By being with him, by loving him, she willingly walked a path fraught with danger. She put herself at risk, entwined her fate with his, despite the inevitable peril that shadowed his every step.
And yet, she didn't seem to mind. She stood beside him, unwavering in her support. She saw goodness in him where he saw only shadows. She believed in him, whispered words of reassurance that he was a good man, despite the blood on his hands and the darkness in his heart.
But Calcharo knew better. He had seen good men—General Jiyan, Mortefi—men with strong moral compasses who fought for justice and righteousness. They were the kind of men who did what was right, not just what was profitable. Unlike him.
As they cooked in silence, (Y/N) hummed a soft tune under her breath, a melody that spoke of innocence and hope. Calcharo couldn't help but contrast her purity with the darkness that clung to him. She was kind, selfless in a way he could never be. Since her arrival, many members of the Ghost Hounds relied on her medical expertise, freely given without any thought of profit. It was a stark contrast to his own dealings, where every transaction was a negotiation, every job a calculation of risk and reward.
The smell of alcohol lingered on her breath, a subtle reminder of her own struggles, her own ways of coping with the weight of their reality. Calcharo glanced at her, a pang of guilt tightening his chest. She deserved better than this life, than him. He wanted to protect her, shield her from the darkness that threatened to consume them both. But how could he, when he was the very embodiment of that darkness?
He finished preparing the meal mechanically, his movements precise but lacking his usual efficiency. Each chop of vegetables, each stir of the pot, felt like a ritual to stave off the inevitable conversation looming between them.
As they sat down to eat, she launched into stories about the Lawless Zone they inhabited, her voice animated despite the weariness that lined her features. Calcharo listened intently, his attention divided between her words and the weight of his own thoughts.
She spoke of the baker who had mastered the art of baking in makeshift ovens, of children who startled learning how to use grappling hooks to navigate the treacherous terrain. Her anecdotes painted a picture of resilience and adaptation in a place where survival was a daily battle. She found joy in the small victories of others, weaving tales that brought warmth to their otherwise harsh reality.
Calcharo ate in silence, marveling at how effortlessly she embraced life in the Lawless Zone. In this unforgiving environment where alliances shifted like sand in the wind, where trust was a luxury and betrayal a constant threat, (Y/N) saw good in everyone. It was a trait that set her apart, a reminder of the innocence she carried despite the injustice that had led her here.
But he knew the truth of her exile, the injustice that had ripped her from a life of healing and service. Some faceless bureaucrats in the New Federation had condemned her for a crime she didn't commit, tarnishing her reputation and casting her out. Yet, despite the bitterness that could have consumed her, she continued to trust, continued to give of herself without hesitation. The bitterness of the betrayal still lingered, a wound that hadn't fully healed. Yet, despite everything, she had found it in herself to trust again—to trust him.
As they cleaned up after dinner, (Y/N) moved to tidy the living room while Calcharo washed the dishes with a methodical precision. The clink of porcelain against porcelain echoed in the silence, a counterpoint to the tumultuous thoughts racing through his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him, she deserved peace, she deserved better.
When they finally retired for the night, exhaustion weighed heavily on Calcharo, but sleep eluded him. He lay in bed beside (Y/N), her head nestled against his chest, her breathing steady and peaceful. His mind replayed the events of the day—the worry in her eyes when she saw his injury, the tenderness of her touch as she tended to him, the way she effortlessly navigated their tumultuous existence with grace and compassion. She trusted him, believed in him, despite the darkness that tainted his soul.
But he knew the truth. He was a man haunted by his past, burdened by the choices he had made and the lives he had taken. (Y/N) deserved better than the life he could offer her—a life steeped in danger, where every day was a battle for survival. She deserved peace, safety, and the chance to heal from the wounds inflicted upon her. The weight of his own inadequacies pressed down on him; a suffocating presence that threatened to consume him whole. He closed his eyes, willing himself to find solace in (Y/N)'s embrace, in the warmth of her love. Yet, despite her comforting presence beside him, sleep remained elusive.
As the hours slipped by, Calcharo stared into the darkness, wrestling with his demons. He knew he had to protect her, shield her from the inevitable storm that was to come for him. Beside him, (Y/N) stirred in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Calcharo tightened his embrace around her, his fingers tracing absent patterns on her back. He wished he could shield her from the nightmares that haunted him, from the harsh realities of their world. But he knew he couldn't.
As dawn painted the sky in soft hues of orange and pink, Calcharo lay awake beside (Y/N), his mind churning with resolve and sorrow. He knew what he needed to do, though he lacked the strength to follow through. The abyss stared back at him—a reminder of the darkness that had consumed him long ago. He had always known that staying in the kill-or-be-killed business was never the path to redemption. Despite numerous attempts to leave this life behind, each endeavor had failed. The Ghost Hounds relied on him, and so did the people of the Lawless Zone. They needed his leadership, his expertise in navigating the treacherous underworld they called home. He couldn't abandon them, not after everything he'd done, not after the lives he'd already taken, not after the lines he’d crossed and the enemies he’d made.
But she was different. (Y/N) deserved a life far removed from the danger and uncertainty that defined their existence. She deserved peace, safety—a chance to reclaim the innocence that had been unjustly stolen from her. There was no salvation for him, no redemption from the sins he had committed. But there was hope for her—hope in a future away from the Lawless Zone, away from him.
As the sun continued its ascent, casting long shadows across the room, Calcharo made his decision. He would hurt her one last time, knowing it would break her heart. But he had to do it—for her sake, because he knew she would never make that decision herself. Quietly, he disentangled himself from her embrace, careful not to disturb her peaceful slumber. He watched her for a moment, the curve of her cheek illuminated by the gentle morning light. She looked so serene in her sleep. Her chest rose and fell with her soft breaths.
With a heavy heart and a sense of grim determination, Calcharo quietly began packing his belongings. Each item he placed into his bag felt like another piece of himself being removed from their shared space. The room that once held their laughter and whispered confessions now echoed with the hollowness of impending separation.
He folded his clothes with methodical precision, placing them neatly into the duffel bag. His fingers lingered over small trinkets—a worn-out book she had gifted him, a bracelet she had made from scavenged materials—that held memories of happier times. Yet, these very memories weighed on him now, reminders of what he was about to do. Calcharo erased every trace of his presence in the house, wiping down surfaces, gathering stray belongings, and leaving the space eerily devoid of his essence. It was a painful process, akin to erasing a part of himself that had intertwined with hers over time. The ache in his chest grew with each passing moment, the reality of his decision settling heavily upon him.
Once everything was packed, he sat in the living room, waiting. The Ghost Hounds had swiftly removed his belongings from outside, leaving no visible trace of his imminent departure. He glanced at the door, knowing that soon she would awaken to a home that felt emptier, colder, without him. Hours passed like slow-moving shadows before (Y/N) stirred awake, her footsteps padding softly as she entered the living room, still half in the realm of dreams. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips as she greeted him with a murmured "Good morning."
Her smile faltered as she took in the expression on his face—the somber set of his jaw, the sadness that clouded his eyes. Concern knit her brows together as she approached, sensing something amiss in the air.
"Calcharo, what's going on?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with worry.
He gestured for her to take a seat beside him, his own features drawn with a mixture of resolve and sorrow. "I... I need to talk to you," he began, his voice rough with emotion. He paused, struggling to find the right words, knowing no syllable would make it easier.
(Y/N) sat down slowly, her eyes never leaving his face. Her concern deepened, a flicker of fear darting through her expression. "Calcharo, please," she implored softly, reaching out to touch his arm, seeking reassurance in the warmth of his skin. "You're scaring me. What's happened?"
Calcharo took a deep breath, steeling himself for the inevitable pain he would inflict. He met (Y/N)'s worried gaze, her touch still warm against his arm, and he knew he had to be resolute.
"I... We can't do this anymore," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's not right for you to be with me."
(Y/N)'s eyes widened in disbelief, her grip tightening on his arm. "Calcharo, no," she protested, her voice trembling. "Please, don't do this. We can work through whatever it is. I love you.”
He shook his head, his own voice choked with emotion. "You deserve someone better than me," he insisted, his tone firm yet laced with pain. "Someone who can give you stability, peace... a life without constant fear and danger."
Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill over as she fought against his words. "But I don't want someone else," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "I want you. I can adapt, I can learn. I can handle it."
Calcharo’ s heart clenched at her words, his resolve faltering for a moment. He gently detached her hand from his arm, standing up with a heaviness in his chest. "I don't want you to handle it," he said softly, his voice tinged with anguish. "I can't bear to see you caught in the crossfire, (Y/N)."
She stood up too, desperation etched on her face as she reached out to him once more. "Please, Calcharo," she begged, her voice trembling. "Don't leave me… I am begging you. Please…”
He turned away, unable to meet her pleading gaze. "I love you," he admitted hoarsely, pain lacing every word. "But this love... it's hurting you. It's not fair to you."
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she took a step closer, her hands reaching out as if to hold onto him, to anchor him in place. "I don't care about fair," she whispered, her voice raw with emotion. "I care about us. About what we have."
Calcharo closed his eyes briefly, the ache in his chest unbearable. “You might want me, (Y/N) … but I am not what you need. You deserve a righteous person by your side who can protect your innocence and kindness. That is not me.”
She gasped softly, a sob escaping her as she stumbled backward, her hands covering her mouth in disbelief. "No," she choked out, her whole-body trembling with the weight of his words. "Please don't do this..."
Calcharo’ s own voice wavered as he took a step closer, his hand hovering in the air as if torn between reaching out to comfort her and knowing he had to leave. "I love you," he whispered hoarsely, his voice thick with unshed tears. "But this... this is the only way."
(Y/N) watched him, her entire being trembling with the weight of his words, with the finality of his decision. "Calcharo, please," she begged, her voice breaking as fell on the floor. "Don't leave me. I can't... I can't do this without you."
Calcharo stood before her, his heart breaking with every tear that streamed down her face. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to take her in his arms, to comfort her, to take back his words and pretend this moment never happened. But he knew he couldn't. Not for her sake. Not now.
"I've spoken to someone in Jinzhou," he said quietly, his voice trembling slightly. "They've arranged housing for you. It is safe there and you can start afresh. You… you need to leave the Lawless Zone.”
(Y/N)'s sobs grew louder, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably as she struggled to comprehend the magnitude of his words. "No," she cried out, her voice raw with anguish. "Please, Calcharo..."
Calcharo’ s heart shattered into a million pieces at her words, but he pressed on, knowing it was the only way to protect her. "My people will protect you until then," he continued, his voice cracking with emotion. "But this... this is the last you'll see of me."
She collapsed onto the floor, her body convulsing with grief. "No, no," she sobbed, her voice raw with agony. "I can't... I can't do this without you."
Calcharo closed his eyes against the pain, struggling to maintain his composure. "I hope you find somebody else," he whispered, his voice barely audible over her cries. "Someone who will love you like nobody else." His words hung heavy in the air, a bitter admission of his own shortcomings. "I hope he gives you something real, someone who can put your well-being first." he continued, his voice breaking. "And I wish nothing but the best for you."
He knelt beside her, his hand hovering over her trembling form, wanting to touch her, to soothe her, but holding back. "I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice thick with regret. "For all the pain, the hurt, the worry... I never wanted this for you. You’re the only person in this world that I cannot see get hurt because of my deeds." Her cries echoed in the room, reverberating off the walls as he apologized. "Thank you for welcoming me every time with an open heart."
He leaned forward, brushing a gentle kiss against her forehead, a silent farewell filled with a lifetime of love and regret. "Goodbye," he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible over her sobs.
With great effort, Calcharo stood up, his legs heavy as he turned away from her. Each step felt like a knife in his heart, tearing him apart as he walked toward the door. As he crossed the threshold, a single tear escaped his eye, and he quickly brushed it away, his face composed into its usual stoic mask.
He glanced back one last time, memorizing the sight of her curled on the floor, her heartache echoing in the empty room. It was the last time she would see him, but he promised himself he would always watch over her from afar, keeping her safe until she no longer needed his ghostly presence.
She would find someone to love her, he knew. She had so much love to give. And despite the ache in his own heart, he would be happy for her when that day came. Despite the agony that consumed him, Calcharo found a bitter solace in knowing that she would eventually smile again, even if it wasn't because of him. But for now, he bore the weight of their separation, the ache of leaving her behind. She would move on, and he would fade into memory. For her sake, he would bear the pain of being a ghost in her life, a memory of a love that was both profound and tragically unfulfilled.
And as he disappeared into the harsh sunlight of the Lawless Zone, he carried with him the weight of her sorrow and the echo of her cries, a haunting melody that would stay with him long after he had faded into the shadows.
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itstimetojellyfish · 10 months ago
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I’ll be there for you . ( Lingyang x reader)
Another Wuthering Eaves post! I hope you enjoy this!
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You first saw Lingyang at one of his shows , dancing among the streets and impressing people , to be honest , it was quite entertaining!
When you saw his ears you were immediately fascinated . How accurate! His ears were so fluffy and realistic looking! And his skill! Lion dancing is no small task!
You expressed your interest in him and to your surprise , he accepted your invitation and soon enough you guys began to hang out with each other when you had time .
Both of you had similar interests and ideas and had the same energy, it was like two puzzle pieces fitting together for the first time!
Soon enough you were underneath a tree overlooking the city , your head on his shoulder as you stared at the twinkling lights of the city .
You couldn’t help but notice his tail , wagging back and forth and the ground .
“ Lingyang, as much as I love your beastly attributes, I can’t help but wonder , are you some kind of hybrid or something?” You looked at him with unsuspecting eyes .
He tensed . You couldn’t have known could you?….
After some more prodding , being the stubborn little person you are you realize what you’ve done . You’re brought up a touchy subject that he isn’t so willing to discuss.
But before you can take it back and say it’s okay for him to not tell you everything it’s too late , the whole story comes spilling out his mouth as he tells you his story .
He starts from the top and about how he was the lay of his kind , and he was so lonely , to the point he’d be with humans to not feel that emotion .
So then the transformation occurs , the filing down of claws , the ripping off of fur , and breaking his bones to become human .
And then after that , he learns lion dancing and attempts to be human . Everyone judged him at first but the. They got used to him , soon enough , he met you .
His bright smiling sunshine who could always make him happy .
When he finished his story , he sees tears pouring down your eyes as your jaw is open with shock of what he did . You bury your hands in his hair and before he can react , you hug him and pull him close attempting to try relieve any of the pain he experienced from the past .
After multiple attempts of trying to soothe your nerves he gives up and just pats your back , the night stretches on as you continue to hug him .
“ I’m so sorry Lingyang”You mutter.
“ For what ?” He questions .
“ For everything , from now on I be there for you,no matter what .” You promise,
He smiles , and then says ,
“ I’ll hold you to that promise then”
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Thanks for reading this! I do admit it’s a bit short though….. I’ll try to make a longer one next time!
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instaspacenoodles · 5 months ago
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Hallo! I noticied your requests are open
Can I request a dabble or a fic on Jiyan with an S/O who’s part of the fractisdus
He wouldn’t have known beforehand, but he’s just on the battle field and there they are
whichever way it goes it’s up to you, but maybe an angsty ending perhaps 😋
✧₊⊹𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥
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✧ Jiyan x gn!Reader 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 — Angst, Fract!Reader, Mourning, Death
In order for the Fractsidus’ plan to succeed and ensure the revival of the Threnodian Ovathrax, you were tasked by Overseer Scar to keep an eye on the Midnight Rangers. Gather intel, sabotage when the opportunity arises, and keep your cover - kill anyone if you must. It wasn’t too difficult but you managed to blend into the city, presenting yourself as someone who wanted to live a quiet life.  
The quiet life didn't last a month. Your bad luck striking again when you accidentally ran into the general - the very person you had to avoid. You just wanted a late night snack for heaven's sake! The man escorted you home like a gentleman with not much to say but... he was still a threat nonetheless.
Ever since then it was like the universe was playing a cruel joke on you. You just kept running into that General Jiyan no matter where you went. You didn’t know if this was a blessing or a curse. Well, if the universe was offering the best source of information to you on a silver platter then who were you to refuse.
Each time, you played the innocent card while skillfully weaving in questions about the frontlines and the Midnight Rangers. Jiyan wasn’t the type to share classified information so easily unlike his loudmouth comrades. He only shared tidbits about the Rangers and what was happening behind the scenes - much to your frustrations. He was lucky he was cute. Maybe from a different angle, you could earn his trust and learn more of the secrets he holds. 
The next time you met him, you extended an invitation to join you for dinner at your home. He grew quiet for a few moments and a part of you watched with bated breath. Would he decline? Maybe it was too soon? You tried to take it back with an awkward laugh, however, he shakes his head and accepts your invite with that small smile of his that made your heart beat just a bit faster. 
After that night, there was a tone shift between you two. Conversation with him was actually… enjoyable. A small part of you wanted to know more about him - his childhood, his time as a doctor, his favorite things. His presence filled your days with a sense of calmness similar to that of blue skies after a rough storm. It made you realize that you haven’t been this close to someone in a long time. This recent change felt weird but it wasn’t unwelcomed. 
However, happy moments are quick to disappear. There was a tightness in your chest when Jiyan tells you that he was called to the Frontlines. You understood it was his duty as Jinzhou’s General and you should be happy that he was finally out of your hair. Though all you felt was a squeeze on your heart when he departed from the city and all that was left now was a void of what was.
You were constantly reminded of him everywhere you go, of all the beautiful moments you shared together. You wonder what he would say if he saw you moping around like you- wait a second. Did you miss him? That realization made you freeze in place as heat started creeping to your face. It couldn’t be that you… actually fell for Jiyan, could it? Shit. You liked him, you missed him, you liked him.
When the word arrived that the General returned to the city victorious, that feeling you worked so hard to suppress came back full force. So there you were at home, making sure that everything was perfect if he came knocking. It felt like hours before there was a faint knock on your front door and you nearly trip over the table trying to get it open. There he was in all his glory. Jiyan was back, back home. In a swirl of pure glee and relief, you launch yourself at him. Surprised by the sudden hug attack, he caught you before you could do much damage. A laugh bubbling from his chest as your arms wrap around his neck. Everything was right in the world now.
It took a while to build up the courage to confess your feelings for him. Every time the right moment appeared, a little voice in the back of your head kept saying that you weren’t worthy of his hand. You were supposed to be enemies for god sake! The Fracustius wanted the General out of their way and here you are getting cozy with him. Feelings were hard and putting them into words were harder. Action was better instead.
 It was during one of those midnight walks that you forced your hand to move, reaching out to gently hold his own. Slowly, he intertwined his fingers with yours and gave your hand a tight squeeze in return. Your heart was pounding in your chest the rest of the way home but the smile on your face shined so brightly. He liked you back. There was no doubt of his feelings when leans down, holding your check with his free hand, to plant a small kiss on your lips. The faint flush of his cheeks was certainly a sight you wanted to keep seeing on the normally stoic man. 
Deep down, you knew peace wouldn’t last. Tacet Discords started to appear more frequently due to Threnodian’s resurrection and Jiyan was forced to the frontlines permanently. War was basically on their doorstep after all. Yet the true catalyst, the quiet before the storm, was the golden light descending from the sky that morning.  As confusion and anxieties rumbled through the street, only you knew what it meant. The Arbiter had arrived.
 It wasn’t before long that you were summoned to Norfall Barrens with the rest of the Fracustius members to assist with the resurrection. You had your orders and you too couldn’t go against your duties. Mask on, weapon in hand, and red cloak draped across your shoulders - your side was already chosen from the beginning. You just hoped that you both survived this.
A loud roar cut through your thoughts and you barely had time to dodge the large teal dragon that was thrown in your direction, with a certain General following suit. Of course, how naive to think that you would be able to avoid him here. Your heart nearly stopped as a sense of dread built up in your throat. Right now you both were on opposing sides. Both of your blades clash with a loud cling as the fighting continues. Jiyan was skillful in his attacks and certainly made good use of his duel wielding abilities - beautiful yet dangerous. 
Adrenaline and pain burned through your body with each slash you received. You managed to put some good wounds on him though it was clear to anybody that your body was in a worse state. You were no match for Jinhzou’s General. Jiyan caught you off guard with a swift kick to your gut that sent you flying backwards and rolling into a rock nearby. The world was spinning - shit.
His blade was pointed at your throat. Your body froze and wide eyes stared down at the broadblade. The will to fight vanished without a trace as you were at his mercy- mercy that he was unwilling to give. A shaky plea came from your lips as your hands reached up to pull the mask away as a last resort. At the same time, there was another flash of teal in his other hand and his spear was plunged right into your chest. The mask was pulled away as your body crumbled to the ground.
Jiyan catches the sight of your now revealed face and his whole resolve turns to dust. A mix of anguish, shock, and betrayal bloomed in his chest. You were with the Fracustius the entire time? No… that couldn’t be right. This had to be a sick joke, an illusion due to the retroact rain. He called out to you and watched you sluggishly stir to the sound of his voice. How could the beautiful eyes he stared at so many times faded to nothingness this easily? Though the damage was done and you were slipping through his fingers. 
Jiyan fell to his knees and pulled you against his body. He didn’t care about the dirt and the blood that were now staining his clothes, leaning down to whispering apologies in your ears with tears burning his eyes. A pained smile pulled at your lips and you could only gasp out a raspy ‘I love you’ before darkness swallowed you. As you take your last breath and your body goes lifeless in his arms, Jiyan could only stare at the moon in agony. He didn’t get to say he loved you too. 
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n0tamused · 8 months ago
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✧ ˚ ·After the war..
A/n: meow
Contents: angst, fem reader, character death, inspired by the poem included here from the 1939, have fun reading
Words: 552
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Your hands shake around the yellowed and hardened paper, previously dry spots being marked by the wetness of your tears now. Not even hearing your own cries, your mind can only focus on the swimming letters that bubble up to your lash line and over your eyes, taunting you like giants and beasts your beloved used to tell you about. 
Faded lights fall in broken leaflets through the window as the sun outside kisses the surroundings mountains, the glass itself broken at the edge.
‘When the war is over,’.. you read again, fighting the urge to choke as you manage to catch each letter from the corners of your tears so you can put them back together, drinking in the familiar handwriting like it is the finest liquor. If you could, you would drink away whatever remained of your life with the contents of this letter, if only you could, but you can’t, and you make yourself read the following words..
‘we’ll get married and the earth will grow flowers like you’, the next line reads, the ink heavy in a few spots and you can imagine Jiyan sitting at some dirty, broken camp, writing the letter with an old quill that spills ink rather than write with it. He is surrounded by huddled men that trust him, that keep following him even if it means following him to the ends of the planet to eradicate this enemy that threatens them all. The smell is heavy from the campfire, and the coals are a roaring red and orange, sending blazes of flames licking up at the midnight sky. He can vividly see the pots of flowers sprouting just outside your window. And suddenly the mere thought of you, your smiling face, feels like a bed of thorns and nettles that he needs to lay in. And the quill in his hand presses harder, making the lines thicker, and he curses his own hand.
‘and your womb will carry the most beautiful girls in the universe.’ 
White hot agony fills you, and for a moment you can swear it is all anger within you trying to claw its way out, yet nothing comes out of you but sobs that wreck your entire body and have you clawing at the sofa in front of you. The cover is a dark teal, you feel cursed for simply touching the color now. Why, why, why, why, why him, why now? Has he been reckless? Has he forgotten the promise?
The edges of the paper are dotted with dark red splotches, and a few dry petals had fallen from the letter when you opened it. This had been found in the pocket on his chest, right over his heart where he thought he would be able to keep you closest to him. None of it mattered now; you clamp a hand over your mouth, your throat hurting raw from how long you spent on the floor like a wilting flower in a storm, your roots not strong enough to help you endure it as they once were.
You curse the world, you curse the tacet discords, you curse the ranger that brought you this letter, and you curse Jiyan for departing, you curse him for not taking you with him.
The world will never feel alive again. 
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Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.
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wuwaworld · 10 months ago
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tw: ooc Mortefi, married relationship, Mortefi the cleanfreak /j, insecurities, arguement, angst to fluff, crack
Mortefi x Reader prompt.
; please do not take this seriously. ik mortefi won't be like this in a relationship. it's all in good fun for me.
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Mortefi who somehow married a reader who always let their things be carelessly placed around the house.
Mortefi who even WONDERS how in the world his mind could say "yes, they're the one." when he looks at them across the office. their desk a mess with papers scattered around.
“we're not going to that dinner date.” Mortefi taunts, taking a few steps back dramatically as he watches how you somehow make your already messy desk.. more.. infuriatingly dirty.
“w-what?” you blinked confused, pausing on your work as you look up to him with a frown.
“clean that, and maybe I'll change my mind.”
Mortefi who thought that taunting you with his words will encourage you to clean up little by little. but you only seem to understand his teasing taunts as painful jabs to your heart. his words making you more upset as days passed by, losing even the motivation to work properly in the Academy. much less talk to him when the both of you arrived in your shared home.
Mortefi who realizes that he was such an idiot. that he thought the same trick he pulled when he was still your boyfriend will work. for goodness sake, you exchanged vows with him. it meant that your relationship took a different level, so his (teasing) encouragement should take up a notch.
but Mortefi soon realizes how he really messed up, when he comes home a bit early that day— only to find you a crying mess as you spat out insecurities after insecurities. it hurt his heart to see you like that, and he loathed himself for being the part of the problem that made you cry.
“why even marry me?” you spat, teary and hurt eyes stare back at him.
“my love..” Mortefi slowly walks towards you, pausing his steps as he sees that you tensed up, “I'm sorry.. I hadn't realize that you have taken offense to my words greatly.”
you stood silent, trying to gauge the expression on his face. when the silents lulls the shared home, Mortefi glances back up to you. his legs carefully bringing him towards you once more.
“I'm sorry, darling.” Mortefi whispers, bringing your hand up to his cheek. his head turning to the side as he kisses your palm. his heart was swelling with appreciation and awe as you didn't step back from his touch. and so Mortefi's kisses on your skin became more profound and pleading.
“let me make it up to you, please.” he mutters, his eyes sincere and apologetic.
on the day onwards, while his cleanfreak persona would just like to let your desk burn with his powers. he held himself back. Mortefi instead began to clean up your messy desk little by little with shaky, gloved hands. it almost looked like as if it pained him to be in such near proximity of it.
“Mortefi?” you blinked, looking at your husband in mild surprise as you had just came back from a meeting.
“oh,” Mortefi looks up when he hears your voice, “greetings.. my wife..”
“......” you blinked again, this time dumbfounded as you hear his odd wordings. he was so out of character.
when you glance down at your desk and up to him, you could pat yourself in the back on how you kept a neutral expression. hiding away the laugh attempting to crawl out on your throat, the feeling of a somewhat sweet revenge from the way he made you cry back then. the same source of problem that Mortefi was facing right now.
“are you okay?” you mutter as you take a stride towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“...am I..?” Mortefi mutters, looking back at the scattered papers and objects in disgust.
suffice to say, your sweet revenge of making your desk even more messier lasted up to 6 months. before Mortefi had to forcibly sit you down on your shared home, a 20-page slide presentation on how being a clean and organized person would help you in the long run.
it's only up to you whether you'll follow his advice or not..
>:))))
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coldherxriah · 8 months ago
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Hey, how are you? i finally have some free afternoons and will work on some of the pending Wuwa requests and respond to the others in the inbox.
I will create a master list and notify that Wuwa requests are closed. Requests are open for HSR characters, although i have certain preferences for characters from Xianzhou Luofu and Xianzhou Yaoqing, such as Jing Yuan, Fu Xuan, Fei Xiao, Jiaoqiu, and Moze. However, you can request any character.
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xichilie · 1 month ago
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Hello, hope it's fine if I request more than once!
How about a Brant x Reader where she ended up as a Pilgrim herself and endured very traumatic events before being found and saved by Brant and the Troupe. As a result of said events, she never spoke so everyone assumed she was born mute until she eventually speaks to Brant due to feeling safe around him. How would he act before that (thinking that she's mute) and how would he react when hearing her voice for the first time?
Hello 👋
It's fine. You can send as many requests as you like ♡
Brant x (fem) reader
A silent voice
The moment Brant saw her, huddled among the wreckage of yet another forsaken Pilgrim’s Sail, he knew she had suffered greatly. She was thin, her clothes torn and ragged from the unforgiving trials of Penitent’s End, and her eyes—haunted, wary—spoke of horrors she would never utter. Or so he thought.
The Troupe of Fools had found her on one of their rescue missions, bringing her back to the hidden refuge of Fool’s Elysium. Like many before her, she was taken in, clothed, fed, and given a space to heal. But unlike the others, she never spoke a word. Not even in pain, not even in comfort.
At first, Brant assumed she was mute, like some of the others who had survived the journey. Many who faced the Dragon of Dirge lost more than their voices—some their minds, others their very will to live. Yet, despite her silence, she was strong. She adapted, she learned the unspoken rhythms of their troupe, and she carved out a place for herself amongst them.
Brant, ever the performer, took it upon himself to entertain her. Whether it was through grand gestures, exaggerated tales, or whispered stories in the quiet glow of the cavern fires, he would always find a way to bring some light into her somber eyes. It became a routine—him speaking, her listening, her presence a comfort he never knew he needed.
Still, the silence lingered, an invisible barrier between them. A part of him ached for her, wishing he could ease whatever suffering had stolen her words. But he never pushed. He never asked. He simply stayed.
Until one night, when everything changed.
The storm raged outside Fool’s Elysium, the entrance sealed with heavy tarps to keep the howling winds at bay. The firelight flickered, casting shadows against the stone walls, and Brant found her in her usual spot—knees drawn to her chest, staring into the flames. He approached as he always did, settling beside her, his warmth a familiar presence in the cavern’s cool embrace.
“I suppose you’re waiting for another tale,” he mused, voice tinged with the soft lilt of amusement. “Or perhaps a song? Something tragic and romantic, fitting for such a dreadful night?”
She didn’t move, but he felt her gaze shift toward him, the weight of her unspoken thoughts pressing between them. He exhaled, leaning back on his hands. “You know, I always imagined my soulmate would be someone loud. Someone who could match my theatrics word for word. But here you are, proving me an absolute fool.”
A small, almost imperceptible twitch of her lips. Not quite a smile, but enough to make his heart lurch. He continued, emboldened. “But I don’t mind. You don’t need to speak for me to know what you’re thinking. It’s in your eyes. Always in your eyes.”
For a moment, there was only the sound of the storm outside, the distant echoes of laughter from the others deeper within the cavern. And then—
“…Brant.”
The voice was soft, hoarse from disuse, barely more than a whisper. But it was there. Real. Hers.
Brant froze, his breath catching in his throat. He turned to her, wide-eyed, as if he had imagined it. But she was staring at him, waiting, her fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeves. Her expression was uncertain, hesitant, like she had just crossed an invisible threshold and feared what lay beyond it.
His heart pounded. Of all the things he expected in that moment, hearing her voice—hearing her say his name—was not one of them. He opened his mouth, but for once, words failed him.
“Say that again.” His voice was barely above a whisper, a fragile plea carried by the firelight.
She hesitated, then, softer this time—“Brant.”
It was his name, just his name, but it was everything. A single word that shattered the silence, breaking through the walls she had built around herself. And it was for him. Only for him.
A sharp breath escaped him, and before he could stop himself, he surged forward, wrapping his arms around her in a fierce embrace. He felt her stiffen for just a moment before slowly melting into him, her head pressing against his shoulder. He held her tightly, as if anchoring her to the present, as if trying to shield her from every nightmare she had ever endured.
“You spoke,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You actually spoke.”
She nodded against him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his coat. He could feel the slight tremble in her hands, the way she clung to him like he was something solid in a world that had once been cruel and uncertain.
He laughed, though it came out choked, overwhelmed. “You… you have no idea how much this means to me.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him, her expression softer now, less guarded. “I… feel safe,” she admitted, voice still rough but steady. “With you.”
Brant’s breath hitched, and he cupped her face gently, his pink eyes searching hers. “Then I’ll make sure you always are.”
The storm outside raged on, but inside Fool’s Elysium, wrapped in Brant’s arms, she felt something she hadn’t in a long time—home.
And for the first time since she had arrived, since she had endured the horrors of the pilgrimage and found sanctuary in Fool’s Elysium, she felt something close to peace.
Brant didn’t let go of her hand for the rest of the night.
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aventurineswife · 1 month ago
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Hello! I like your headcanons and I would like to suggest an idea. Can I request Jiyan from Wuthering Waves with a reader who was a slave in childhood and still has a barcode on his/her neck? Maybe some hurt/comfort. I just finished Aventurin's quest and it was so sad. I'm sorry if there are mistakes. English is not my native language 💕
Marked Yet Unbroken
Tags: Jiyan x Reader, Headcanons, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Healing, Mentions of Slavery, PTSD, Nightmares, Emotional Support, Protective Jiyan, Comforting Relationship, Empowerment, Slow Burn.
Warnings: Trauma (mentions of past slavery and abuse), Emotional Struggles, Mentions of Violence.
A/N: I always start crying when I remember Aventurine's backstory... 🥺💔 (Tried new style for hcs, i probably won't keep it)
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When Jiyan first notices the slave mark on your neck, he doesn’t comment immediately. Instead, his sharp eyes linger for just a moment longer than usual before shifting away. You can tell from his slight frown and clenched fists that he understands its implication but refrains from prying, respecting your boundaries.
Over time, as your bond with Jiyan deepens, he gently shares his own burdens and regrets, like the loss of his mentor Beiwang. It’s his way of inviting you to share your story, making sure you know he sees you as an equal, not as someone to be pitied.
Jiyan becomes fiercely protective of you, though in his usual stoic way. If anyone dares to bring up your past or stare at the mark, his sharp eyes silence them instantly. His commanding aura makes it clear you’re under his protection.
Despite his reputation as the "Qingloong," Jiyan has a tender side that he reserves for you. When you’re feeling overwhelmed, he’ll sit beside you in quiet solidarity, offering his presence without forcing you to speak. On rare occasions, he’ll gently trace the outline of the mark with his thumb, silently reassuring you that it doesn’t define you in his eyes.
Jiyan is no stranger to nightmares, and when he finds you trembling after a bad dream, he’ll stay by your side, holding your hand and whispering quiet reassurances. His steady voice and warmth feel like a shield against the shadows of your past.
Jiyan admires your resilience, often marveling at how you’ve endured so much yet found the strength to keep moving forward. He sees the barcode as a mark of survival, not shame, and will remind you of that whenever your confidence wavers.
The first time you show him the full story behind the slave mark—sharing the horrors of your childhood—Jiyan listens intently, his usually calm demeanor giving way to a rare flicker of visible anger. He doesn’t press for details, but his quiet vow to ensure your safety is clear in his gaze.
Jiyan offers to teach you self-defense or combat techniques if you're willing. Though he respects your past, he also wants you to feel empowered and never trapped again. His training sessions are intense but filled with patience, and he always gives subtle praise when you make progress.
When you’re ready, Jiyan helps you create new memories to reclaim your life. Whether it’s through walks under the stars, sparring together, or quiet evenings reading or practicing medicine, he ensures you feel like your present and future are yours to shape.
Jiyan may not be the most openly affectionate person, but his actions speak volumes. He’ll cook your favorite meals (even if he’s not a great chef), surprise you with small gifts like medicinal herbs or trinkets he thinks you’d like, and ensure you have a safe place to rest whenever the weight of your past feels too heavy.
In a deeply intimate moment, Jiyan crafts a teal silk ribbon, inspired by the Qingloong. He ties it gently around your wrist, telling you it’s a symbol of your strength and freedom. “This,” he says softly, “is who you are now. Not what they tried to make you.”
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alwayscorvus · 9 months ago
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Do not forget your place
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Do not forget your place - Part 1
bodyguard!malereader x Yuanwu, fluff, short;
a little bit angsty? But it's a good ending that matters, right?
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How many years have you been his bodyguard? Five, ten…twenty?
It all started with that one session at his gym. At that time you were not the best, even pretty bad. Yuanwu, however, recognized something special in you.
And it wasn't about your torn, dirty clothes or the fact that you didn't have a single penny to pay.
Although that, indeed, was a big problem. Not for Yuanwu, he didn't care about money. But for you, for your pride. Ego.
Especially after the way he treated you so well.
You felt guilty for letting yourself get carried away with your emotions earlier. And for wanting to get rid of them, which led you to the ring.
You were no longer a teenager. In your opinion, you were far too old to be a trainee. Nevertheless, Yuanwu soothed your nerves over a cup of tea, provided a roof over your head, and eventually trained you. For a person he could entrust his life to.
It's not that Yuanwu needed a bodyguard. He was perfectly capable of protecting himself. Maybe even more than you. People in his position, however, were not suited for defending themselves. They could afford to hire someone to get their hands dirty.
Yuanwu was not fond of this idea, but he was not foolish either. He had to try really hard to keep being respected by others, in order to keep things in peace. "Maintain the stability." "Keep his hometown safe "*.
You heard a loud hoarse cough, which snapped you out of your thoughts.
Sight of your boss reappeared before you.
Elegantly dressed Yuanwu was sitting sideways to you on a white quilted couch. His longtime rival took a seat on opposite, simillar sofa. They were separated by a glass coffee table, with two cups of untouched tea. You stood straight, as the rest of bodyguards of both sides.
However, this was about to change.
Yuanwu's expression spoke by itself. At least to you.
In a split second you dashed forward. Shots rang out all around.
Yuanwu jumped up. And you felt a ripping pain of a bullet rubbing against your shoulder. Yuanwu was safe. But only for a moment. You had to get him out of there.
Your co-worker just collapsed onto a floor. Wounded by another weapon. Other took cover behind a pillar. And by great aiming, took revenge of his friend. Got rid of a bodyguard from an opposite side.
Yuanwu's rival was preparing for another attack. You grabbed your boss by his hand and rushed towards the door.
On your way, you had to push off another attacker. Struggle was brief. In a rush of adrenaline, you managed to dodge all his punches.
While you cleared the way, Yuanwu protected your back until you both were able to safely leave the building.
You ended up in a black alley, a few blocks away from a meeting spot and a few kilometers from home. Your hearts pounded like crazy. And breaths were raspy. You started screaming. About how stupid this idea was. About how he could have died.
-You know what they are like! It was obvious that they would attack you! And what if something had happened to you, huh?!
-Then I would die. And what? No one would care - he said with stern voice.
-Are you joking? Eveyone would care! I would care! -you uttered in a breaking voice.
Your emotions took control of you. Eyes turned glassy.
Yuanwu's expression wasn't helping. He looked at you terrified. As if your words and message behind them were much worse than todays events.
You looked at the man with hope. Seeking for support. Without thinking, you reached your hand towards him. You grasped his arm tightly.
You didn't know why you were so heartbroken. You have been in these situations many times. Even in much worse ones. But today-… After what he said-… You wanted him to finally understand that he really was important. That he had people around him who cared. That he had you.
Finally, you could become his support. The same that he has been for you for past years.
Yuanwu shook your hand off. Before you had time to react he turned on his heel and with a slow steps started to head towards an alley exit.
-It's better for us to go already.
-B-but-!
-Stop - he interrupted you. And you couldn't believe what was happening - Do not forget your place. You are just my bodyguard.
His voice was sharp, harsh and forceful. It hit you deep and greatly broke your heart.
You gripped your chest. You had to check if the pain was real.
-O-oh… okay... I understand-
Lie. You couldn't understand. All your shared memories passed before your eyes. Your trainings, walks. How you brewed tea or how you decorated your home together. Hours spent on talking.
Over the years, Yuanwu became your mentor, your friend, something more. On many occasions you joked around, gave hints. And you weren't the only one. It's true that man always quickly changed the subject. But he never openly showed his disapproval.
That hurt. Even though you were already mature and ready for a rejection.
But not in this way-
You understood that Yuanwu might not feel the same, might not approve it. But you would have given anything for him to accept your care. Even if only as from a friend.
But if that was his will, you had to accept it. Quickly you pulled yourself together. With a swift motion, you wiped away your tears and continued in a cold voice:
-Sorry.
Yuanwu stopped for a moment. It was as if this one word affected him more than the previous few. Nevertheless, you couldn't see his face. And you didn't even want to.
Chills ran through his body.
But your only goal now was to return home. His home.
*quotes from Yuanwu voicelines
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