No title available
noise dept.
if i look back, i am lost
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
trying on a metaphor
Noah Kahan
Sade Olutola
occasionally subtle
Kiana Khansmith
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Mike Driver
No title available
d e v o n
KIROKAZE
🪼
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
pixel skylines
RMH
#extradirty
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
seen from Georgia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@bookbirdgetstheworm
the fact that they chose to give into the CN fan base and entirely remove valko is bullshit but tHE FACT THAT THERE WONT BE ANY NEW LOVE INTERESTS AFTER THAT??? they’re abandoning this game i swear it’s already boring now and you’re just going to keep it that way instead of being like wow, only one demographic doesn’t like this new love interest, let’s add him anyway bc everyone has different tastes! and then adding something new and fresh!!
ugh I’m actually so pissed off 😭
Shrike
Synopsis: You’ve heard stories of what it would feel like meeting your soulmate for the first time. Some fell in love instantly, while others approached each other softly and took their time. You assumed Xavier would be the latter. You didn’t mind the wait, and found the hesitation a bit endearing. You may even be willing to wait forever. However, a visit to the hospital for a common cold that doesn’t seem to go away, made you realize just how little time you have left.
A/N: Just a bit of a twist of the Hanahaki trope. A lot of the stories I’ve read about Hanahaki are insistent of the seeming “unrequited” love but they actually do love you back, got me kinda thinking about the logistics of it and kinda wanted to do something different. Xavier may be OOC, so please lemme know what you think!
You don’t remember when you first learned about soulmates. You supposed it was something you’ve always known about. Watching your parents, you’ve seen how beautiful it can be. To find someone meant for you and you them, and building this life together, where no matter what hardships and heartache may come, you’re not alone and can support one another. To love so loudly, you never have to wonder what the other was thinking or feeling.
Meeting Xavier gave you a new perspective on love. His love was more quiet. When you first met him, he was shy, refusing to meet your eye and spoke softly. But that same day, he’d stop by the cafe and wait until your shift over to offer walking you home. He’d offer to carry your things or offer to buy you food if you were still hungry. You found it cute and endearing.
When Xavier told you about the hotpot gathering his coworkers organized, you were excited. In the few months you’ve known him, he rarely talked about his time as a Hunter, or introduced you to any of his friends and coworkers. The only person you met was his partner. And though she was a lovely person, it’s strange not hearing much about his work, or even any workplace drama.
“It shouldn’t take long,” he had said, taking a bite of his sandwich. When he’s able, he stops by during your lunch break to eat together. “It’s a lunch event. If you wanted to do something later that day we can.”
You paused mid bite of yours. “Oh.” Your cheeks felt warm as you forced yourself to take a bite of food, staring intently at your plate. Stupid, you thought, I shouldn’t have assumed. Xavier has shown himself to be a private person. It’s understandable he’d want to keep work and life separate. You tried to respect that as well, and stopped sharing some of the workplace gossip.
“If you like,” Xavier said slowly. “You can come with me. To the gathering.”
Your gaze met his as he studied you, trying to gauge your reaction. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but let yourself smile and nod along. “Of course! If that’s okay.”
He smiled in return and nodded. “Of course.”
A part of you was also nervous. This was your first time meeting his coworkers. Has he talked about you? How would he describe you? Clingy? Too aloof? You bit the inside of your cheek as Xavier lead you into the restaurant.
You didn’t realize just how large the group was until you saw the party of 8 seated. Almost immediately, Xavier’s partner found the two of you and waved, and gestured towards the two empty seats beside her. You almost sighed in relief as she pulled you into a hug before letting you take your seat and began introducing you to everyone.
Tara and Simone were regulars, and you’ve seen Nero in passing but never held a proper conversation or were formally introduced. So when they looked to you with a look of confusion, you focused your attention to the menu.
“They’re Xavier’s plus one!”
“We’re allowed to bring plus ones?” You could hear Tara ask softly, like she was meant to whisper to the person next to her, but the music wasn’t loud enough to cover her voice.
“We ordered water for the table, but feel free to order anything else!” Miss Hunter quickly said.
You wanted to sink further in your chair and let the menu obscure your entire being from the rest of the table. You glanced over to Xavier as he began dipping slices of brisket into the broth and helping himself to some appetizers as he waited.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come.
“Hey,” Miss Hunter scooted a little closer, looping her arm through yours. “You had an exam earlier this week, no? You were studying really hard for it. Didn’t even respond to any of my texts.”
You allowed yourself to smile at her half-hearted pout. She was cute like this, and you appreciate the distraction. Though perhaps it could have been more subtle. You didn’t realized the two of you talked most of the night, with some of her coworkers chiming in and asking you questions about your studies, hobbies, etc. Tara beamed at your similar tastes in music and your open-mindedness to tarot reading. In truth you had mixed opinions about the cards, but didn’t have the heart as she excitedly offered you a reading in the future. Simone, who you found more grounding, quickly changed the topic to schedule the next K-Drama watch party. By the time the check came and everyone worked out their halves of the bill, you left with two additional numbers and found yourself added to the girl’s group chat.
“Did you have fun?” Xavier asked as he opened the car door for you. You took a moment to appreciate the scene. The street lamp’s glow made his platinum hair golden, the slight bow of his frame, and the softness of his eyes. It reminded you of a knight from fairytales. Since meeting Xavier and spending time with him, you appreciated how chivalrous he was.
But you also weren’t blind to his hesitation or oblivious nature. Tonight was an example of that. You had hoped he would introduce you as his partner, or be a bit more involved when it to interacting with his coworkers.
You weren’t sure how the night would have gone, had you been completely ignored or alone. Despite the embarrassment, you had fun.
You have a smile and a nod as Xavier took you home.
Knight!Caleb x princess!nonmc part 6!
[Part 1] [2] [3] [4] [5]
A sinking hollow feeling was all Nonmc had left with each step guided by those four imposing knights behind her. She was not given any more time to make further complaints, simply she was told to head out past the outskirts of the city gates where they had their horses and a carriage ready. Nothing more, nothing less.
No goodbyes given to her friends. No final night to cherish the city streets before they depart. She was not even allowed to head back to the rented inn room where her travel pack and other things were.
It was clear that it was to avoid the attention that could be brought upon them with the city folk. Or, it could be simply be as the knight captain had told her when she asked.
'Those things will have no value or importance by the time you return back to the castle.'
She supposed they weren't wrong in that sense. But in her heart, it felt like the same thing could be applied to herself. A person with no value or importance beyond living out her days in misery as a soon-to-be wife for a loveless marriage.
⚠️ I took a look at my settings and noticed something. Please check your too! ⚠️
THERE IS A SETTING YOU HAVE TO TURN OFF! OTHERWISE YOUR GIVING PERMISSION TO TUMBLR TO SHARE YOUR ORIGINAL CONTENT WITH THIRD-PARTIES INCLUDING THOSE WHO TRAIN AI!!!
⚠️ REBLOG this so others can check their settings. I don't know of this is something new or has been here for some time, I only noticed it just now. Share this so others who might not know about this see it too ⚠️
Also before anyone comes at me for using these tags, I am tagging x readers so other fanfic writers will see this too.
“i only know that i feel tired, antiqued; i feel as though i’ve been awake for a long long time”
HOMESICK
synopsis: when the exhaustion of loving finally takes you.
tags: xavier x non!mc, ANGST!!! hurt/ comfort(?)
word count: 4.4k
likes + comments + reblogs appreciated
authors note: xavier’s version of this. let me know if you want versions of the other Lis. also please give me some ideas!!! divider by: @fairytopea
ACT I: VIGIL
Laughter has never been so suffocating.
You watch, not from a distance, but next to MC.
You think it's worse to be this close and to hear everything you're hearing now. In all the years of trials and tribulations of knowing Xavier, have you ever heard him laugh so brightly, smile so widely, or love so loudly?
The quiet, ever aloof prince of Philos—the man you followed, crossing stars, passing meteors, abandoning the place you once called home—beams brighter than his evil.
You think about all the things that built up to this moment.
To you, he was the stars: bright and all-encompassing. His silence—always silent—ever consuming, as you trailed in the shadow he left behind. Throughout the years of companionship and camaraderie, you followed blindly, as you always do, even when you knew what following him meant: an ill-fated destiny you could never rewrite.
You knew MC once before—the same woman who took the world by storm, a hurricane in his life that devoured him whole, leaving nothing for you behind.
Just like the MC you once knew, this MC is just as captivating.
The universe is playing a sick joke. He is your longest companion, the very last of your kind—the last light of your planet, your world, your culture. You left it all behind because, to you, loving him meant more than the comfort of your people and the safety of your planet. Loving him was worth leaving everything behind.
Ironically enough, he thought the same thing.
And despite it all—the friendship, the companionship, the camaraderie—you’re not even a placeholder for the love he holds dear. Nothing but white noise that followed him around, that clung to him at every turn.
A persistent, pathetic, piteous echo.
You are so close, and yet, so far.
Pulled in by the gravity of his very being. You think—thought—that all this time, just being beside him would be enough to soothe the dull ache of your heart, the perpetual pain that roamed your bones, and the exhaustion that swallowed you whole.
Like a dreamer, you think of the ways he could love you in the same capacity he loves her. That if you show up enough times, reach out and fill the silence he leaves behind; that the days of dedicated devotion, the sacrifices made along the way, would surmise to something worthy of being loved.
Worthy of being seen.
You’re left stranded in his orbit, gravity pulling harder the more you think you’ve got a handle on your thoughts. The pain, the agony, the suffering. Thinking that sticking by his side was all you ever needed, that you can’t be greedy—because having him was enough, and having him be yours was pure insanity.
You hear the laughter erupt once again, likely from a silly joke MC made. You pull yourself out from whatever hole you've dug, pull your lips into a smile the best you can, laughing along. It's hearty and very becoming of your character, you think, since MC wraps a secure arm around yours and squeezes with affection.
You allow her, of course—straining your cheeks until they burn, letting out a long-drawn sigh that fills the room.
Despite what others may think, as you converse along luridly, as if the volume of your voice could hide the heavy heart you bear, you've never been so quiet.
…
ACT II: DREAM
You once thought that the convenience of being neighbours was a good thing.
Next door to Xavier—close to him, but never next to him.
Walking to the Hunters Association together, coming home together, eating together. Just being together.
But you could tell Xavier wasn’t ever there—not really.
Despite being with him for so long, his mind was usually elsewhere. Sometimes in dreamland, but mostly—actually, always—drifting to her.
At some point, in between the solo bickering and one-woman conversations, you, too, found yourself wandering.
Like your mind sanctioned itself in your own self-made isolation.
Quieter. Smaller. Dimmer.
You stop talking as vividly—maintaining just enough energy to keep up appearances. Your voice, so used to fading into the background, remained where it was so oftentimes pushed towards—away from everything. Everyone.
You stop tagging along in the mornings, early days, and late nights, save for the obligatory lunch with your co-workers.
You stop leaving your apartment, taking refuge in a bed you’ve grooved your body into, like a coffin awaiting your arrival. An apartment you’ve grown used to, replicating the only home you knew.
And you’re just so tired. Tired of it all. Exhaustion clings to you like chasing breath. Sleep evades you like the plague.
It was your choice to cling to hope—to leave your home and to follow, naively, in hopes that one day, he would look at you the same way you look at him. To experience his love: the soft edges, the warmth, the gentleness. To think quiet, everlasting devotion would get you anywhere—devotion that controlled you, consumed you. Devotion that you thought would be enough, as silly as it sounds, to at least hold a candle next to the sun.
Devotion that instead puts you in the hands of despair.
You’re stupid to still hope, to yearn for a love that was never yours to have. To attempt to go against fate—against an entire lifetime of love.
So really, it was your burden to bear—and bear it alone.
And the funniest thing of it all? Xavier never once visited you. Checked on you. Sought you out. Even the tenant right below you, Charlie, visited, offering warm welcomes of fresh bread and a simple smile.
As you lie on your couch, enveloping yourself in the embrace of your own naivety, forced by Jenna to take a day off, you listen to the familiar silence.
Which is soon broken by the snubbed sound of light that snuffs the room.
It’s the first time in weeks—29 days, 21 hours, 2 minutes—Xavier has stepped foot in your apartment.
You don’t make a move to look at him or say anything like you normally do.
You both reside in the deafening silence. One by choice, one succumbed.
For the first time, Xavier breaks the silence: “You weren’t at work today.”
You could laugh, scream, cry, or all of the above, but you don’t.
Quietness reaps your soul.
Xavier continues. “MC was worried about you.”
A lifetime's worth of companionship, and he wasn’t even here to seek you out.
You truly are stupid.
Xavier isn’t used to the silence—not this kind. Despite being so quiet all the time, this silence was completely foreign. It was heavy and uninviting, almost suffocating.
There’s a moment of unrelenting anticipation as he waits to see you respond.
When you don’t, he steps forward. One step, then two—then he’s at the foot of the couch, peering down at you like a deity summoned—unconsciously shining with that light of his.
Steel blue eyes bore into you, trying to read you.
But you’re too fractured to be read. At least not clearly.
“Are you okay?”
‘Am I okay?’ You want to laugh at the thought, to make fun of the words asked.
Were you ever okay?
You miss it all—your family, your friends, your people, your home.
To think, once there was a time you chose to abandon it all in the name of love—where you thought complacency was where you belonged: beside a man you knew never loved you, maybe never even liked you.
Now you can only sneer at the fact, as you reminisce about a place far and forgotten, only finding a place deep within your memory.
Xavier prompts a different question. “Have you been sleeping?”
And for the first time in a while, you finally speak.
“I’ve been dreaming a lot.”
First, about you. About us. About what could have been. About what never was.
“What about?” His voice holds something softer than you ever thought possible from him. Something reserved only for her, never for you.
It almost makes you break. To confess everything. To finally open up your heart and pour all your pain out. To free yourself from self-made shackles and unwanted thoughts. To hear the very softness you crave—to be held, caressed, embraced.
But you don’t. Because even with that unreadable look in his eye—the same eyes you’ve longed for all this time—you know what they hold.
Obligation
“Home,” you say simply.
For the first time in a while, Xavier looks at you—really looks at you. He’s known you all this time, the image of you ingrained in his brain like second nature. He knows you—you’re his oldest friend, most trusted companion. He's seen all sides of you, but the person he’s looking at looks nothing like the you he remembers.
He looks at you and can’t even recognise you. Cruelly, for a moment, he even wonders if it’s really you.
“I don’t see any changes.” Xavier takes a quick glance around; everything remains stagnant, as it always has.
You don’t correct him—not this time. You hum a noise between affirmation and acknowledgement and drift off to a place once forgotten.
Silence consumes the soul once again, with Xavier wondering when he had become so complacent with it all: with your constant presence, voice to fill the spaces he’s left behind, unrelenting energy, and unwavering spirit.
“You’re right. Nothing has changed.”
…
ACT III: DRIFT
Xavier hasn’t visited since.
Not that you didn’t expect it.
You still see him at work, at lunch with MC, and on the rarest occasion, you bump into him in the hallway of your apartment complex—like strangers.
You do your best to find a new rhythm in this life, as your absence becomes more common and your presence goes with the echo of your voice. You’re seen less and less.
Maybe you were never seen at all—not truly.
You find that it’s easier to deal with heartache in the same way Xavier deals with everything: in silence.
Silence, although not foreign, not even new to you, seeks you out and sticks to you like a foreboding message.
You’ve spent years so bright, a will so strong it held on tight enough to kill you. Your loudness brought you here, away from Philos, so as the bits of your spirit whittle away along with your soul, silence is left to fill in the gaps of an empty shell.
You learn to live without Xavier in your life—as though he isn’t the last thing you have of your home, of the love you once felt, the comfort, the security. You learn to live without Xavier and learn to nurse a pain that has become something of a lover.
You had to learn to live because the world kept spinning—even when you’re lost in a place, unfamiliarly familiar, and can do nothing but live on.
But are you even living at this point? Even a dead girl walking has rights to a life—to living.
You’re leaving for another mission. In spite of Jenna’s protests, you’d rather fight to exhaustion—to blend the pain in your chest with the ache of muscles.
Your face reflects your volition. Eyes pulled down by the weight of your burden, face pale like a dying star. Despite trying, your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes, your laughter isn’t as bright, and your voice isn’t as loud.
You wait for Jenna’s reluctant orders. She’ll be damned if she lets you out on another solo mission—because despite your incredible hunting rates, you too are human.
A voice so familiar pulls your attention, and you look up to see Xavier standing before you—ice blonde hair and steel blue eyes in tow.
How long has he been standing there?
“Jenna assigned me as your partner for the mission.” Your face shows no expression—and not for lack of trying.
You laugh inwardly at the thought.
You're too much like him, in a sense. Loving hard enough to abandon your home, to follow blindly with fate—in spite of your own shortcomings. To silently love, quietly devote, and slowly disappear.
You purse your lips and let out a sigh too heavy for someone like you.
Xavier is almost taken by surprise.
“Let's go.” Xavier can hear it in your tone, and see it in your voice. How truly tired you really are—incomparable to his ever-waking sleepiness.
Your exhaustion runs you dry.
Again, silence befalls the two of you—an unwelcome rhythm that has found a place in the cracks of your relationship.
For the first time, Xavier trails behind you. Watching you. Observing you. And if he didn’t see your face or know your frame, he’d think the person walking in front of him was nothing but a stranger.
This time, Xavier walks in your shadow.
…
ACT IV: SILENCE
You think you’re fading.
The remnants of who you once were have been whittled down to the bone. You’re broken—maybe you always have been. Maybe this was who you were always supposed to be.
You’re so tired, not just emotionally but physically too.
The never-ending stream of wanders is starting to take a toll, even on professionals such as you and Xavier.
Your sword is dull, chipped at the edges, and your wounds scatter across your frame, staining your skin in a dirty shade of red.
Even the almighty knight is struggling to keep up with the demand.
So, as you find refuge in a murky cave, to recuperate the best you can, you find that the full-body ache starts to return.
You lean against a well-placed boulder, breath shallow and your grip loose, as your eyes haze over the fire in front of you.
You feel the warmth reach out for you—gently, creeping through the shell of yourself.
It’s quiet, save for the crackle of the flame.
You feel peaceful for once—the hunt muddling your thoughts so much that you can’t even think straight. Or maybe it’s the exhaustion of not sleeping.
Despite it all, you feel a strange sense of tranquillity. One with the throb in your chest that makes it hard to breathe, but is easier to deal with now that everything aches.
It’s peaceful, you think, as you fade into whatever hole you’ve dug all those years ago. Your mind is muddled, and your soul flickers with the last bits of who you were.
Suddenly, you’re pulled back out—again by the very men who left you there, like a nostalgic toy forgotten all these years.
Your eyes pull away from the fire.
You soak in his gaze. It holds none of the same love you see him give out so freely to MC. It’s hard and stern—years of knighthood sewn into his features. He looks at you like he doesn’t know you at all.
Calloused hand gripping your shoulder—it’s firm enough to shift your attention, your body facing him.
You look at him and try to find the line between succour and obligation. Try to find one thing that says you mattered—even just for a second.
You were foolish to believe that you could remain just his friend, companion, comrade. You were stupid, dumb, idiotic.
You were completely blind to it all—to think that his love could have relieved something burning in you. Something insatiable. Something permanent.
“You’re drifting.” Xavier’s voice cuts through your messy thoughts and heavy heart.
You’ve been drifting.
You don’t make an attempt to joke like you used to—not even a weak smile. You sit back and stare at him like you don’t even know him.
“You’ve been doing that more often.” You take a moment to digest what he says—something he’s noticed entirely on his own, not by MC’s worrywart love.
Once upon a time, you would’ve thought it was normal for him to notice these types of things—the dullness of a close second. But now, you’re surprised. Shocked, even. Like he’s seeing you for the first time.
“Where are you going?” he prompts, and his voice holds something so intrinsic to the soul. Something you can’t find here. Something like home.
You’re fading, like the light of his evol—dimmer, as you’re pulled into the gravity of your own mind.
You’d like to tell him—if not as a lover, then a friend:
I’m lost. I’m gone. I’m tired. I’m sad. I’m furious. I’m not myself. Not with what’s left of who I am.
I am not home.
You don’t. Despite something inside you telling you you must. That it’s not worth dying on this hill.
You think: How much deeper of a hole can you dig before you vanish? Before you're gone? Forgotten? Never having existed in the first place.
Until you’re not a person, but a memory.
You don’t tell him anything, because that’s not the kind of relationship you have—not anymore.
In the midst of the silence, your voice finally breaks through.
Quiet. Cracked. Almost gone.
“I’m thinking of going home.” There’s finality in your tone. Weak as your voice may be, Xavier hasn’t heard such certainty from you in months.
His eyes knit in confusion, contort in concern.
Maybe you’re just tired. But there’s something to your expression—an unspeakable hollowness that wasn’t there before. Your eyes haze over with something distant.
A body without a soul.
Like he always does, he remains silent. Never reaching out. He’s seen you get through worse, come back stronger. He’s seen everything. He knows you.
Or maybe... he knew you.
All the years of companionship will amount to something. It has to. He’s known you for so long. You stuck by his side even through death. You truly were the one stable thing in his life. Never needing to chase—always there, beside him. With him.
It was always you and him—even as he fights his way through the forgotten memories of MC, you remain.
Though, something claws at him, as his hand gently travels down your arm. To reach. To ask what you meant. To wonder if you meant the apartment beside his, where it reflected the culture of Philos, somehow capturing the stars in every object you bought.
He wants to ask if home is with him.
But he doesn’t.
Silence is there to greet him again—him only, he thinks, because you seem so used to it now.
Unfamiliar territory.
His eyes travel to his hand on yours, afraid to let go for some reason. As if letting go meant never seeing you again.
Your head is slumped motionless against his shoulder. His eyes peer onto your back—and then he sees it.
The blood stains the rock behind you. Your back is adorned with gashes that soak your uniform.
“Y/N,” he calls out, like it’s the only thing he knows. Because it’s the only thing he can do.
He hears no response. Not even a whisper of a shallow breath.
It’s not quiet. Not even small.
It’s silent.
Then he feels it. The way your eyes droop down to the fire. The limpness of your hand on his. The paleness. The coldness.
The death.
His spare hand reaches out.
He shakes you. “Don’t close your eyes.”
But you don’t abide—swaying with the motion of his force.
You could do anything. Do everything. Move mountains. Slay beasts. You were strong. Firm. Confident. He knew you could get through anything.
“Come on, just open your eyes. Can’t you do that?”
“One breath. That’s all I need.”
“Hold me tight, Y/N.”
Xavier cradles your gaunt body as he pulls your head taut to his shoulder. He rocks you like a sleeping child, holding you tight—tighter than he ever has before.
He’s shaking—and not from the cold.
He doesn’t know what comes over him, but suddenly, the silence breaks.
And he hears everything. Sees everything. Feels everything.
And he cries.
Because that’s all he can do.
…
ACT V: LINGER
Xavier likes to think that he notices your absence.
The way people step over the shells of your name, the routes taken to avoid the common spaces you once occupied in the living. The untouched work desk, memorialised by those who remembered her. The vacancy next door — the home she built away from home — now barren, her things sold, thrown away, or forgotten.
MC, who was so loud with her affection, mourned just as passionately. Her heart sewn onto her sleeve as she cried the loss of a friend. Flowers tended on the desk of a fallen soldier, and distance built from the apartment upstairs.
But really, he doesn’t.
The way you’ve faded so naturally out of his life — never moving, never reaching. The walk to and from home is the same. His apartment is the same. His life remains the same. Like you were never there. Like the image of your smile wasn’t something that pushed him through distant times.
Like you never meant anything to him.
Like the years of friendship, companionship, camaraderie — all amounted to a tombstone with your name etched into it.
And he hates himself for it.
For being so complacent. For never seeing you. Never hearing you. Never reaching out. For always thinking you’d remain the same: the loyal, competent pillar in his life. For thinking that his silence meant nothing to you.
Because it did. It meant everything.
He hates how he’s living life like he always did — like you weren’t ever part of him. Regret, guilt, grief — they all settle in his bones, for a person he can’t even remember.
Along with the memory of you, time passed, as it always does. And as time passed, he slowly forgot.
Your goals and aspirations. Your loves, your hates.
Your dreams.
He can barely remember your face. The last time you laughed. Your smile.
He can barely remember you at all.
Only pulled in by the gravity of his grief, where he finds you at the centre of it all.
To think he was so far from you. The irony now is that he can’t ever leave.
Stuck on a cursed image of a woman who meant so much to him.
Who held the moon up so he could shine with the stars.
He sits on his bed, light voided from the room. The pictures from your apartment piled by his bedside, facing the stars, watching — as you always did.
For the first time, he’s not tired at all.
Is this how you felt? How restless you were?
When he showed up that time, too worried about MC and her anxieties. Too quick to solve her issues that he hadn’t noticed how your eye bags sank deep enough to stain your spirit. How you lay, lost, drifting to a place he couldn’t reach.
Dreaming of home.
And just like his home, his culture, his people — you too join the faint memory of Philos.
His phone buzzes, bright. The screen illuminates the room.
Xavier thinks it’s MC again — she doesn’t know the depth of what you and Xavier shared, but she understood the weight of long-term partnership.
At first, he answered every time — to relieve her worries, to silently say he was fine.
But now, everything feels like a farce.
A lie he tells himself as much as he tells the world.
If the absence, the silence, isn’t acknowledged — maybe it’ll keep things still. To stop time from moving.
Because if time doesn’t move, then the memory of you won’t fade.
And you’ve faded enough.
He picks up the phone and waits.
Then he hears it — the soft laughter he longed for. It’s gentle and hearty, so full of life.
Xavier peels the phone from his ear to peer at the screen.
Then he sees it. The light. The brightness of a smile lost to memory, now alone. It’s displayed in front of him — teeth bared, lips stretched wide with a feeling he hasn’t seen in years.
It’s you.
Laughing so freely. Smiling so widely.
You’re alive.
Xavier scrambles upright, leaning forward to see the screen more clearly.
It’s you — in clothes he’s never seen you wear, in a room he’s never seen before, with a face he barely remembers.
But he knows it’s you.
How could he ever forget? Not truly.
So desperately, he calls out. Announcing himself, finally reaching out.
Your eyes perk in surprise as you lean in.
“Holy shit, did he just say my name? That’s crazy!” you giggle, and Xavier is too overcome with emotion to even question the absurdity of your words.
“No wonder people were glazing this game on Twitter!” you laugh before the call cuts.
Xavier’s too stunned to react. He taps rapidly through his phone to check the caller history.
Unknown.
He scrambles to call again.
Anticipation sweating off of him.
He holds his phone tightly and then— You pick up.
Your face: confused.
“Damn, I didn’t even level his affinity up yet and he’s calling already,” you mutter, peering at the screen.
Xavier looks dishevelled, almost destroyed. His hair is a messy heap, and dark circles shadow his eyes. The usual soft glow of his skin— dulled, lifeless.
He’s worn thin. A dead man walking.
“Hey,” Xavier says softly, almost inaudibly.
He watches your face shift — confusion to elation.
“Oh my god, you can even talk! Let me try again.”
And then you speak — not offhand commentary, but to him.
“Hi,” you greet, brightly enough to light up the room.
Xavier is at a loss, and doesn’t reply. But unlike before, you speak again.
“This is so cool. So like, does this count as my daily interaction?” you ask aloud, maybe to yourself, maybe to him— he can’t tell.
“Right, probably not in his programming to answer questions like that,” you mumble, before turning your full attention back to him.
“I’ll see you soon, alright? I hope this mechanic isn’t a glitch.” You grin softly.
And nothing in Xavier’s entire career could’ve prepared him for this.
But he’s not letting this opportunity go. Not when he has another chance to hear you, to see you — and even if he can’t touch you, he’ll never let go.
He’s not letting you slip.
Not now. Not ever. Not again.
“All right... I’ll see you soon,” Xavier replies simply.
Watching your face glow is enough for him.
The way your lips stretch, teeth bare — a face full of life.
Here, he decides: he’ll wait as long as you need.
As long as you want.
He’ll wait until the phone screen glows once again. He’ll wait to see you again.
Close enough to hear you. To see you. But never touch you.
…
ACT VI: ECHO
“Hi Xavier”
The unfair proximity of a dream
yeah it's simple and it goes like this
a/n: only a couple more parts to go !! likes and comments are always encouraged 𐔌^. .^𐦯 ~
part 14 part 15
⋆.˚✰tl: roguishcat, pjselee, jelxqa, twilightsmissingfur, tangerynsbaby, dreamydaredevil, fruitymoonbeams-blog, ineffabl-y, syrawrites, dooopiee, aranarum, diaflower, 0ceans-over-skys, miuangel, angelstien, 3xv5s, chyume, applecrow168, hajimeowmeow, aranarum, chickenrest, emowitchwithatwist, whmnx, vanaaa, hanaohreally, napforalifetime, kingraspberry12-blog, neonwarchild, we-rice-boi
Shards of light rained down like bolts of lightning. The blinding white prickled, sparking outwards like electricity. The wanderers consistently making a home of this No Hunt Zone were unmodified, exactly as they had been before Deep Space had spat them out. And after a few minutes all that was left were scorch marks on tree bark and piles of dirt mixed with smoking ashes.
After you’d left, after he got over the aftershocks of what had happened, there was only one thing left to do. Find Soren. He’d been marked for death for a long time, his execution overdue. Soren would die by Xavier’s sword. He was now, more than ever, determined to deal the final blow. Xavier scoured the city for days and looked everywhere, he even broke into that dreaded ‘facility’ that you’d fought over. He didn’t find anything, not a trace was left. Jeremiah and Isaiah had no more intel. Sullivan hadn’t heard anything either.
Next was a visit to The Nest, but no amount of money, intel or protocores could create a lead out of thin air. Still he let it be known who he was looking for, putting feelers out in case anyone felt a tug on their line.
There were only a few places left to check and the Association would call him back any minute now. MC would need her partner back too. So the most reliable strategy he had was to simply wait. Soren would make a mistake, he’d reveal himself to the world one way or another and then Xavier would have his opening.
With nothing left to do, Xavier had found himself here and he’d been killing wanderer after wanderer for long enough that he’d lost track of time. He spotted a nearby tree perfect to lie against. His hands shook slightly, eyes stung with strain and his limbs hung heavy and sluggish. He almost gave in. But this was supposed to be punishment.
Xavier didn’t bother picking up any protocores, he felt the crunch of one under the heel of his right boot as he trudged along unsatisfied with resting until he exerted himself some more. He wanted to feel it, he deserved to feel it, even a fraction of the pain he had inflicted on you.
The next pack of wanderers had led him deeper into the forest and towards a familiar clearing. It didn’t take long for him to find and dispose of them.
The tall grass brushed against his calves as he walked to the edge of the open field. How strange that his attempts at atonement had led him here again at the foot of his old ship. Its grave. The site of one of his first and biggest mistakes. The beautiful wreck was right there, quietly waiting for his return. If he listened closely he could hear it whirring, the soft sounds of a sleeping giant.
He walked up to it, pressing his palm against the cool surface before jumping up over the edge onto the outer rim. Once aboard, but without any intention to come inside, Xavier collapsed gracelessly with his back against the wall outer, arms crossed against his chest. He looked up into the night sky, and the countless stars blinking back at him calmed the emotions swirling in his heart.
That night Xavier got the first proper sleep he’d had since you left.
Whether it was at the park, the coffee shop, the Nest, his own living room, Xavier’s eyes subconsciously searched for you. The habit had stuck even after you had left. He knew it was irrational, but that’s how hope worked. Longing too. At the office he assumed that for once, it would pay off. There’s nowhere else you would be on a Monday morning. But you weren’t there.
As he walked past the rows of desks his eyes glided over the familiar faces of his team members, before he stopped and whipped his head back. Someone was at your desk, sitting in your seat. Someone he’d never seen before. Someone that was not you.
“Knock it off. You’re scaring our newbie.” Simone had come up behind him, she punctuated her words with a hard pat to his shoulder.
“Oh. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to,” Xavier started before lowering his voice, “but why is she…”
“That’s what happens when you fall off the earth for a month and a half: you miss things.”
“Sophie, this is Xavier.”
“Nice to meet you.” Xavier was about to offer his hand to shake but Sophie was already continuing with her work after briefly raising her hand off the keyboard and bowing slightly in acknowledgement.
Tara and Simone exchanged looks.
Tara turned to her new deskmate. “Why don’t we go for a coffee run? Soph do you want to come?” Eyes still glued to her screen, Sophie shook her head.
“No? Okay then let’s go.” Tara hopped up and looped her arm in Xavier’s. Simone trailed after them, hands in her pockets.
“Where’s Y/N?” The question left Xavier’s mouth as soon as they’d stepped out from the lobby.
“Palm City. They sent Sophie from their branch so we’d be covered. But you’re back as well, so our bases are loaded.” Simone shrugged.
“You know the first thing she did that day was march into the Captain's office and demand a transfer. Which kind of hurt my feelings because we’re friends, why would she want to leave, you know? But anyway Captain Jenna approved it straight away.”
Of course. The irony twisted his insides. The place he’d asked you to leave to, so that you’d be safe from Soren and EVER, was the same place you’d left to, this time of your own volition, to get away from him.
Xavier’s heart dropped to his stomach. He figured he would see you on the doorstep coming and going, hear your humming through the walls, or talking to your plants when you watered them and on Mondays he thought he’d have hours in your presences, being able to look up and see you there just a few steps away as you worked diligently at your desk.
When would he see you again?
“How long is the transfer going to be?”
Tara shrugged. “We figured it was temporary since she’s gone back and forth a couple of times. And she hasn’t moved out, right?”
“I don’t think so.”
As long as you were happy. As long as you were safe. As long as you didn’t find anyone else to make you feel happy and safe. Xavier frowned. If you found someone better... what would he do then?
“Hey.” Tara’s voice brought him out of his spiral. She smiled at him kindly, like she'd been reading his thoughts.
“Hmm?”
“Why don’t you ask Captain Jenna if you can go as well?”
“I’ll think about it,” he replied, knowing it wasn’t an option. He knew you wouldn’t like it if he just appeared where you were without any reason to be there. It wasn’t worth the risk if he’d just make you more upset.
Maybe he could visit without you noticing him, just to check that you were doing okay... Xavier sighed. He really should just let you go, at least until he found Soren. But Xavier was selfish and he missed you terribly.
“What’s there to think about? I’m sure she’d be happy to see you.”
Xavier smiled sadly. He wished he could say that was true.
“Tara, do you have everyone’s coffee order?”
“Yep! Y/N sent it to me before she left.”
“My order's wrong.”
“Oh?”
Tara removed the honey milk tea against his name and replaced it with his new order, “black coffee, two sugars.”
“Ah, Y/N probably swapped yours and hers accidentally.”
It was the closest thing to the taste of trading bleary eyed kisses in the morning. It didn't taste so bitter when he licked it off your tongue. It was a craving now, one he couldn't bear to do away with. Xavier clung tightly to what he had left of you, which is why he nodded and said, "Yeah, I guess so."
In the following weeks Xavier ended up doing what he’s always done. He rolled his shoulders, steeled himself, and got through the day. He accepted mission after mission: going undercover, obtaining intel, performing extractions, killing wanderer after wanderer. Any spare time he had, which he would ordinarily spend going to the park, playing video games or trying new restaurants, was all dedicated to tracking Soren. He sent Isaiah off to look for him too.
Throughout it all, every second of every day, he would be thinking of you.
He texted you that. He texted you a lot. It was small things; like how the cats in front of the apartment complex are doing, that he’s taking care of your plants, that the cafe has a new drink you’d like, that he saw a cloud that looked just like Bunbun, that the author of the book series you were reading just published another volume, that he could send it to you if you’d like.
You never replied, but you hadn’t blocked his number either. He hopes you’re reading them and they brighten your day, even a little. He hopes one day you’ll send him a message too.
You continue to post on your Moments page though. It’s filled with photos of the ocean, sunsets, the coffee you drink, the books you’re reading and the music you’re listening to. You don’t reply to his Moments posts and he resists the temptation to reply to yours.
Among the regular commenters on your posts are your new coworkers; the twins who Xavier is begrudgingly grateful towards. Their posts are frequent as are your appearances.
Xavier’s not ashamed, he takes less than a minute to save any photo and screenshot any reply. You look beautiful and sound happy and while he’s jealous that it's other people making you feel that way, he’s glad anyway. They seem to love you a lot. Not as much as him though.
He hopes with all his heart that you know that, and he hopes you’ll come back to him. Or else, once he sorts this out, he’ll come and find you, just like he promised he would.
Xavier’s practiced being patient for years. All he has to do is wait a little longer.
Was it a bit predictable to run away to Palm City? Sure. But when you stepped out of the cab and felt the warmth of the sun, the fresh salty air, you knew you’d made the right decision.
It was so beautiful here and just like you’d told Soren, being sad here was far better than being sad in Linkon, by a long shot. Crying while watching the sun dip into the waves and wash over everything with a warm orange glow was far better than crying in the city. Getting your feet trampled on and narrowly avoiding falling into a trashcan after being shoulder-checked by a guy wearing sunglasses and a quarter-zip on his way back from work, wasn’t fun.
You’d tried out all the coffee shops until you found a new favourite to frequent. Every week you bought bread from the local bakery and fresh produce from the market down the road. You signed up for a new library card and a gym membership.
Work was good, all your coworkers were really nice, as was your new Captain. He’d given you free reign to pick and take charge of your missions so long as you took the twins along.
Speaking of the twins, Rory and Rohan were thrilled to see you again. It took you off guard just how quickly they adopted you into the team, especially since you’d only spent a day with them, but now they’ve completely latched onto you. While they respected your experience and followed your training, they didn’t care at all for the concept of seniority. Honestly the way they spoke to you reminded you a little of the way you spoke to Caleb; essentially with no filter whatsoever. But it was your own fault for indulging them the same way he did you, letting them get away with too much. They worked hard, rarely complained and didn’t talk about Xavier nearly as much as they had done previously. They were also really good at cheering you up.
Everyday after work you’d go for a dip in the ocean and watch the sunset. On Friday afternoons the twins dragged you straight from work to dinner and then drinks. Down at that beach bar you’d watch them attempt to chat up tourists with varying success, before stumbling home.
You made a routine for yourself and you liked it. You were okay.
But as usual something would bring you out of it, just a little. You couldn’t really ignore the heartbreak no matter how hard you tried.
Tonight it was in the form of a little night market that had been set up along the beach. Your mind went straight to the person you knew would like this the most and it stung. He was by your side, fingers laced in yours, eyes wide and eager. Him and his unending appetite, ready to sample everything. To make matters worse there was a large banner at the nearest stall for custard puffs, specifically wasabi white chocolate filled puffs. An abomination only he would like.
You pushed past it.
A couple of weeks ago this kind of thing would have fucked you up. It wasn’t too long ago that you’d broken down in the baked goods aisle of the convenience store, much to the alarm of the sweet old lady manning the store. She’d given you a free drink to cheer you up, and ever since then, despite your endless protesting, she was relentless in her attempts to set you up with her various nieces and nephews.
Determined to enjoy yourself, you picked up a hotteok and a ridiculously expensive sea salt caramel latte for the hell of it. It wasn’t just food and beverages though, there were plenty of other goods to peruse and you had nothing but time before going back home. After a little while your hands were heavy holding bags full of cute stationery goods, a music box, a jellyfish wind chime, a cream soda theme umbrella and some art prints. There were also magnets, beachy snow globes, jewelry made of sea shells, surf boards, conches that sellers swore had the sound of the sea trapped inside them and one cute kitschy that only sold lobster themed items, like lobster slippers and a functional lobster rotary phone.
You had only just started walking home, around five minutes or so, and you almost passed by without noticing them, but something compelled you to turn around. There was someone standing under the street lamp on the corner. Judging by the hood of their windbreaker tugged over the baseball cap they were wearing, it was clear they were trying to be discreet. But their tall proud and upright posture has the opposite effect. Plus, the blue of their eyes are familiar, as are the blue stripes on their shoes, much more subtle than the bright blue sneakers they used to wear.
You took a few steps back, arriving at a stop directly in front of him. “Nice sneakers.” He responded by choking on his drink, coughing into his sleeve. “What are you doing here?”
His eyes flickered here and there, never quite meeting yours. “I… Jeremiah sent me to see if there were any… tropical plants that he could bring to Philo.” His voice sounded pitchy and his words came out in a strange cadence.
“Uh huh. And did you find any?”
“Not yet.”
“Why don’t you try tomorrow when it’s daytime?”
“Yes, that would likely help the search.” Isaiah nodded. “And how have you been?”
“Yeah. You know I’ve, uh, I’ve been good!” Now your voice was coming out funny.
“Good to hear.”
“Thanks for asking. I assume you’re doing well too?”
“Yes. Thank you as well.”
The two of you stood in silence for just long enough for you to get antsy. “Right, well,” just as you were about to say goodnight, he abruptly began again. “Are there any dining establishments around here you’d recommend?”
“Oh, uh,” you blinked, startled. “What are you in the mood for?”
Isaiah smiled. “Meat.”
Well that checks out, you thought. “There’s a barbecue place down the road, my coworkers go there all the time. It should be good.”
He nodded, seemingly satisfied, before making a sweeping gesture, “lead the way.”
It was nice to catch up with someone who knew you a little but was removed enough that he didn’t know your entire life story. He didn’t ask any invasive but well meaning questions and he didn’t bring up his brother at all. Either he didn’t know what went down or he didn’t care enough to know, both equally likely given what you’d seen of that trio’s dynamic.
After dinner he insisted on walking you home, which you agreed to, lest you perform a slight against his honor. And as you bid him goodbye you couldn't remember the last time you laughed so much in one night, (getting drunk with the twins was a close second), there was something about the way Isaiah talked that made anything he said sound silly.
His nonchalance about what happened between you and Xavier made you feel a little better too, like things were moving on naturally. Maybe you were never going to work and you were always supposed to go your separate ways. Maybe the best you could hope for, in the distant future, was friendship. You could be okay with that, right?
Once again, as you did for the last month or so, you fell asleep and dreamt of hair that looked just like starlight falling over ocean blue eyes.
I’m gonna be honest I haven’t gotten that far in LADS but from what I’ve seen so far Caleb and Zayne were also childhood friends but I haven’t seen anyone write about how Zayne may have felt when he got the call that Caleb is gone. Granted they may have been friend of a friend situation but they kinda grew up together and I’m kinda wondering how he felt when he was told what happened. Like there’s friends I’ve made when I was younger that I didn’t keep in touch with but if they just suddenly died or disappeared I’d be bawling my eyes out.
Item: The Scream Rarity: ⏶ Common
What is the scariest game you've ever played?
Feed your dashboard by answering my question, blogger.
The scariest game I’ve played would probably be Outlast. I love watching playthroughs more that actually playing horror games. The scariest playthrough would probably be Mouthwashing so far. I still haven’t finished the entire playthrough but what happened to Curly was really disturbing I had to take a long break from it.
colonel caleb and assistant!nonMC!reader, who he's desperately in love with part 2
warnings. angst, boss x employee dynamic, suicidal ideation, caleb going through it, caleb hates his job, fluff, comfort, boy is whipped, teeny bit suggestive at the end preview. It comes uninvited, like a part of himself is trying to remind himself that he's still human, even with the damn chip in his brain. Your face, bright and out of place in the sterile emptiness of his mind. The way you frown at him like he's something worth worrying about. When did you come to mean so much to him? wc. 2.6k a/n. part 1 here. this is a prelude to the original one-shot i wrote for this (and slightly an afterlude towards the end)! thank you for the love on the previous one--you're all so sweet <3
The colonel cannot afford to show weakness.
He often wonders when he started seeing himself as the colonel instead of Caleb Xia. Was it since the moment of the explosion? Since he “died”? Since he had to cut contact with the only family left in this wretched world who might care for him? When pressing the nozzle of his gun against another assassin became the norm? When had the stench of blood stopped bothering him?
His days don’t feel like his own anymore. He supposes they aren’t—considering the toring chip in his brain that monitors all semblance of his past self. He works, works some more, eats, and then sleeps to do it all over again. Just enough to keep his body alive. Just enough to keep himself upright.
Every, fucking, day.
He watches his subordinates gush about returning to their loved ones as his ship approaches home base after a three-week-long excursion—one he didn’t think he’d make it out of. The bags beneath his eyes settle darkly, the area around his jaw itchy from the stubble growing for the entirety of the trip. Though his subordinates are in similar shape, their eyes remain bright, glimmering with a hope that even those in his field somehow manage to have. The hope of home.
He had that once, too.
POV: You’re Miss Hunter’s Nosey Neighbor
A/N: Late for April Fool’s day, but I’ve been watching some of Lea_Denim’s videos on Instagram and was inspired and wanted to post something silly.
You didn’t want to be the “nosey neighbor” of the entire apartment complex, especially since you’ve only just moved in a few months ago. But within those months, you started noticing a pattern.
On Mondays, your neighbor, who you’ve noticed was part of the Hunter’s Association, would seemed to have invited, who you assumed was her boyfriend, to the apartment. Sometimes he would let himself in with a spare key. Other times, you’d notice him leaving either early in the morning or late at night, not realizing he had ever entered in the first place.
On Tuesdays, you noticed a different man making the rounds. This one with darker hair and wore more formal clothing, a contrast to platinum blonde hair and hoodie combo. And though he would pass by briefly, the ring camera would capture the lingering touches to her elbow, the way he’d lean his head a bit further down to whisper something back. This was far too intimate an act to be anything casual.
Was this the boyfriend?, you wondered. Who was the other man? You took a step back from your phone. It’s none of my business, you reasoned. What others do in the privacy of their own home does not concern me.
Then came Wednesday. A younger man with purple hair passed by with a bouquet of roses, red, purple, and pink. As he came to collect the Hunter, you didn’t miss the glint in his eyes, the softness of his smile, as if she was the center of his universe.
This is getting out of hand! Three men?! Three?! You quickly called your friend to update them on the goings on of your neighbors life.
“Maybe they’re family members?”
“Family don’t look at each other like that!” You sent them a screenshot of all three interactions.
“Well… maybe they’re sugar daddies?”
“All three of them?”
“I mean…”
Thursday came by, and so did another man, with pale silver hair and dark clothing. You couldn’t get a good view of him, something seemed to obstruct the view, causing his image to be distorted. When you checked the lenses the next morning, you found everything to be in order. No scratches on the lenses, the battery was relatively new, and when you called the customer service line for technical support, they assured you that everything seemed fine.
When it was finally Friday, another man with dark hair appeared. He seemed taller than the man you saw in Tuesday, and seemed far friendlier and familiar with the Hunter. He brought a hot paper cup with a small bag containing whatever pastries or sandwiches she would have requested for breakfast, and escorted her out with an arm around her shoulder.
“Five men?!” Your friend screeched through the phone. “Five men in rotation?”
“So far,” you winced, rubbing your ringing ear. “I haven’t seen anything on the weekends. She seems to be the one leaving first before any of them meet her.”
“Five men.” Your friend echoed.
“I don’t know what the schedule is like,” you conceded. “So far it’s been pretty consistent to just the weekdays.”
“What am I doing wrong?”
“I don’t think it’s a you problem.”
“Where are my five men?”
You snorted, trying to stifle the laughter at your friend’s distress.
“Anyways, I’ll pick you up and we’ll talk some more.”
You left the apartment around the same time as Miss Hunter. Truthfully, you didn’t know much about her, other than her occupation and what’s found on your ring camera. But from what little interactions you’ve had with her, she was a very lovely person. So friendly and sociable, it’s no wonder she had so many admirers.
“Hey!” She flashed you a smile as your eyes met. “I haven’t seen you in a while! Is everything going okay?”
“Hey,” you scolded yourself later on for sounding so breathless. “Yeah, my job just released a remote position and I qualified.”
“Oh, that’s great! Must be so convenient.”
“It really is,” you agreed quickly.
“Well, if you have time, I’d love to show you around Linkon! You’re new around here, right?”
“Right, yeah, just moved in from Skyhaven.”
“Awesome,” she made to grab your hand and wrote something onto your palm. “Don’t worry, it’s washable. Give me a call when you can, we can make a whole day of it!”
“Sure.” From this proximity, you could smell the perfume she wore, floral with a hint of citrus, and how soft her hands were, brushed against yours. Your throat felt dry as she waved goodbye.
I’m in trouble. Despite this, you felt something warm bloom into your chest and a giddiness that wouldn’t leave.
Counting Down the Days in Different Ways
Synopsis: After getting more details about the divorce, your friend asked you to be there for support. You, of course, agreed. You have some choice words to say after all.
A/N: Here’s the final product! I got really heated towards the end but I hope it came across as well as I hoped! Please me know what you think and if I need to add anything to the tags!
Part 1 is here!
You couldn’t sleep that night. The rage in your stomach kept you tossing and turning as you imagined what you’d do the moment you step into Zayne’s office. You had offered to serve him the papers in your friend’s stead, but they just shook their head.
“This is my marriage,” they had said. “I should be the one to end it. To give us both the closure we need to move on.”
That’s not fair, you wanted to say. Even when you’re breaking, you’re still looking out for him. It’s not fair! Instead, you just hold their hand. In reality, you know this will help them too. See him one last time before going their separate ways, hoping for a better love than what they were given. Still, a part of you resents the way they’ve had to handle the divorce alone.
They mentioned how they were able to hire a lawyer to draft a standard template, since they were not planning on taking much. They planned on only taking what they procured during their marriage, any clothes, footwear, and the car in their name. Everything else that was purchased with his money can stay his.
Your friend reassured you Zayne’s lawyers were not contacted yet, so he would not be notified. A part of you wondered just how true that really was. Was this retaliation? Was he just careless and truly didn’t not think of them at all?
With a frustrated huff, you climbed out of bed and began making breakfast to start the day. Though they’ve stopped crying, you doubt they were asleep at all. Peaking over the couch, you found them scrolling through their phone, though you can tell they weren’t focused on whatever it was they were seeing.
You had left the kitchen light on as a sort of nightlight for them, incase the darkness became too much; it helped you to see a bit of their face clearly, despite it only being five in the morning. Their eyes were puffy and swollen from crying so much, almost a distraction for the dark circles beneath them. And though they showered the night before, their hair looked matted and tangled. The worst of all was how small them made themselves, how defeated and drained they looked.
“Hello, my love,” you said softly, scared of disturbing them. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
They hummed as you coaxed them from the couch and moved them to the island, letting them to keep the blanket draped over their shoulders.
Soon, you filled the island with plates of pancakes, waffles, bacon and eggs. You filled their plate as much as you can without wanting to overwhelm them, but with the plans set for today, they’d all the strength and energy they can get.
“He texted me. Asking if I was working late.” They picked around their food before taking a small bite.
You swallowed a piece of your breakfast. “What did you say?”
“I didn’t text back yet.”
“Are you going to?”
They stuffed their head in their hands and muffled an “I don’t know.” It took a moment before they look back up again “I don’t know what to do!”
You reached across the island and took their hands in yours. “Listen,” you make sure they met your gaze before continuing. “You already have the papers ready. All you need to do is deliver them and leave. If you have something to say to him, make it quick. He’ll no longer be your problem and you can start over.”
“What if…,” they weren’t sure what they were arguing against.
You handed them a pen and some sheets of paper. “Write down your thoughts or what you’d want to say to him. If it’s easier, you can leave this with him when you give him the divorce papers.”
You began clearing the island of dishes and cleaning around your home to provide them with some sense of privacy.
By the time they were finished, you helped them unload their car. They didn’t pack much; the clothes they brought were already owned before the marriage, their laptop, toiletries, and other knickknacks and items they couldn’t part with or was bought with their own money. While they were writing their letter, you managed to freshen up the guest room for them. You tried offering it the night before but knew they’d be too exhausted to move from the couch.
Once they were ready, you drove them to Akso Hospital. The whole car ride they stored out the window, watching the scenery change, their grip on the envelope going taut before relaxing and then taut again. You knew in times of stress they tend to disassociate. The lack of sleep didn’t help either. Touch was something that helped ground them.
It’s was still early in the morning when you arrived at the hospital. And though there were many parking spots closer to the double doors, you parked some ways away, not too far but not close either. The walking should help ease them before meeting their soon-to-be ex-husband.
“Are you ready?”
They shook their head. “Not really.”
The smile you gave was gentle. “Whatever happens, just know what I’m proud of you. Divorce is a difficult process, and I can’t imagine what’s going through your head right now. And you have been so brave!” You opened your hands for them to take, and gave a squeeze once they reached out. “You’re not alone in this. I’m right here.”
You let them lead the way to his office. You didn’t realize how much they frequent the hospital. You’d imagine they must have visited a few times, but the closer you got to Zayne’s office, more staff greeted them, providing well wishes and a “speedy recovery”. They tried to answer politely, but you can see their lips tremble as they held back a sob.
One of the nurses at the reception table recognized your friend, stopping them before they turned the knobbed to enter Zayne’s office.
“I’m sorry,” the name tag on her scrub said Yvonne, “Dr. Li is still meeting with a patient. Did you want me to leave him a message?”
“I’ll be quick. I just wanted to drop something off for him.” The look on their face made Yvonne hesitate, the polite smile faltering just a bit before she nodded and returned to her task.
Zayne’s office was empty for the most part. Bare of any photos of their time together during their honeymoon, any souvenirs of dates he managed to attend, or anything of his own to show this office was his. Just a plaque with his name, licensing and status within the hospital. Thought his computer remained off, whatever he was reading still sat next to the keyboard with a little polaroid picture poking out as a makeshift bookmark.
As curious as you were, you had a sense that whatever that picture was would have you fuming. Your friend stood small steps as they reached the desk and placed the envelope above the book and placed their letter on top.
They stood there for a moment, fingers gently tracing the edge of the letter before their shoulders sag and exhaled. They gave the letter a few taps before turning back to you and smiled softly.
“I’m ready.”
They began saying goodbye to the hospital staff as you two made your way out. You glanced around the hospital until you finally spotted Zayne as he made his way to his office. He didn’t seem to notice you and his spouse’s presence. You escorted your friend back to the car before patting your pockets.
“Shit,” you hissed. “My phones not in my pocket. It must have slipped out when we were in Zayne’s office.”
“Oh, I can go and help you find it.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I think I know where I left it.” You handed them your keys before marching back into the hospital. “I’ll be quick!”
You must have seemed like a woman on a mission and you made a beeline straight towards Zayne’s office. You barely spared some of the same staff a glance as you entered the room.
There you found Zayne sitting on his chair as he looked through the envelope and letter left for him.
“I imaged what I’d say to you when I got to see you again.” Would you curse him out the minute you see him? Make a scene and embarrass the both of you publicly? Be escorted out by security as you marched closer to strike him?
“Where are they right now?” His gaze didn’t meet yours as he continued reading through the divorce terms laid out in front of him.
“That’s none of your concern.”
“They’re my spouse.”
“Not anymore,” he looked at that. “A spouse doesn’t neglect their partner. A spouse doesn’t treat their partner like an accessory.” With each word you crept closer until you towered over him. “A spouse doesn’t make their partner feel like a stranger in their own home, in their own marriage.”
Zayne kept your gaze, not once flinching, but his eyebrows furrowed with each sentence. You didn’t care if what you said hurt him, or made him feel guilty. You hoped it did, forced him to address his behavior and how he treated them.
“You weren’t a spouse to them. As much as they tried to make the best of this marriage. They truly cared for you.” He couldn’t look at you anymore and just turned towards the stack of papers before him. “You may not of loved them the same way, but you don’t get to disrespect them.”
You waited a beat for a response, but when none came, you turned towards leave. “Sign the papers, Zayne. It’s the least you can do for them.”
You didn’t breathe until you left the hospital. You shook your hands as if the fury you felt in the moment would leave your body.
“Everything okay,” they asked as you entered the driver’s seat.
“Yeah,” you started the car and gave them a smile. “Everything gonna be fine.”
I Think I Like You Better When You’re Gone
Synopsis: You’ve known your friend for years, knew about the marriage arranged by their and Zayne’s family. You also knew about the devotion Zayne has towards someone that wasn’t his spouse and how it affected them both mentally and physically. Each phone call and tear witness intensified your disdain for the man. It wasn’t until your friend appears at your door in the middle of the night, that you stopped holding back.
A/N: This fic is more self indulgent because every time I read a fic where there’s an arrange marriage that starts off rocky due to misunderstanding or because the LI’s are hung up on MC, I want to fight them for how much they knowing or unknowingly disrespect nonmc. Also laptop isn’t working as well rn so I’m writing this on my phone so if there’s grammar mistakes, it’s because I don’t think grammarly works on iPhone so bear with me. Will update with better grammar once I get my new laptop.
Part 2 is here!
When they arrived at your doorstep, hair and clothes damp from the rain, and eyes glossy from tears they no doubt shed on their way over, you ushered them in as quickly as you can. They hadn’t spoken since arriving, and barely looked you in the eyes as you herd them towards the bathroom to freshen up, provided clean clothes and made them tea and something light on the stomach incase they got hungry.
It wasn’t until the first bite of food that the sob was finally released. You gathered them in your arms, patting their hair in a soothing motion. You wanted to give encouraging words but not knowing what happened, you settling for “Shhh,” as you waited for them to tell you.
The last time they were this much of a mess was when Zayne missed their anniversary, and the time before that was a birthday; a date before that. You understood the position they were in. Their families believed they would suit each other. Ever the romantic, your friend tried to make the best of it. Making excuses for Zayne, being patient and understanding, giving him the space he needed in hopes he would come around. He’s been coming around for three years, you thought bitterly. Three years was a long time. Three years of hoping, only to be disappointed and heartbroken. Three years of watching your friend make the same mistake over and over, expecting a different outcome.
Once they’ve calmed down enough to talk, they told you about Zayne bringing his Hunter friend to an award gala hosted by Akso Hospital. They had found the event posted on his Memories profile as he stood with his colleagues and other board members. Though he didn’t post a picture with his friend outright, she left a message about how proud of him she was and honored to witness the moment. You nearly cracked the phone with how hard your hand clenched around it.
“Maybe,” they began, voice small and hesitant, “I should stop trying. I mean, why do so much for someone who doesn’t want me, right?” Though they gave a halfhearted smile, the voice in their voice betrayed them. You could feel your own breaking with them.
Witnessing their marriage, you tried. Gently, you tried getting through to them. A spouse shouldn’t make you feel lesser, or a second thought. Shouldn’t betray your trust or make you doubt. You brought up divorce once, and had not heard from them in weeks.
“You shouldn’t have to fight for your husband’s attention,” you had said at the time.
“It’s only been six months, we’re still getting used to each other,” they reasoned.
“You’ve known each other for years before the wedding.”
“Please, can we not talk about this?”
They didn’t reach out until a month after that conversation. You kept your opinions to yourself after that.
“I’ve already contacted a lawyer,” they choked out. “I think it’s time for us both to go our separate ways.”
You should feel relieved. You bit the inside of your lip to keep your mouth shut before you say something you regret. All those years they spent yearning in silence, being patient and understanding for a man who doesn’t deserve them. All those times you supported and challenged them when they decided to stay silent. All of this heartache could have been avoided had they left sooner. But that didn’t felt fair either.
“I’ve signed them. They’re in the car, just waiting to be delivered to him.” They let out a shaky breath. “I just…. I need time.”
“You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need.” You soothed their hair out of their face. “For now, get some rest and we’ll talk more in the morning.” You placed a kiss to their temple as you guided them to the couch and gave them a spare blanket to keep them warm.
You couldn’t sleep that night. Not when you can still hear them sobbing into the couch, and not with the anger boiling your blood. Tomorrow, you’re stopping by the hospital for a quick checkup.
Just thought of this Soulmate idea if anyone wants to do anything with it, I don’t think I will but wanna see if anyone’s interested!
Imagine a Soulmate AU where you dream of a critical moment between you and your soulmate. It could be your wedding, the birth of your child, or when your soulmate passed. Anything that is a great change between the two of you.
Imagine your dreams aren’t any of these things but a reoccurring nightmare. You find yourself fallen to your side, sirens blaring, pain searing from your side. You can’t breath, can’t think, and can only smell the smoke suffocating you further.
And the last thing you see is the back of someone as they rush out of the room, following after a smaller figure.
Don't Go Peacefully (5430 words) by WIP_factory Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 恋与深空 | Love and Deepspace (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Xia Yizhou | Caleb & You, Li Shen | Zayne & You, Main Character (Love and Deepspace) & You Characters: Xia Yizhou | Caleb, Li Shen | Zayne, Main Character (Love and Deepspace), Reader, You Additional Tags: Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Discussions of Death, Fear of Death, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Reapings (Hunger Games), Alternate Universe, Angst, Platonic Relationships, Possible Romance, Possible Character Death, Have not decided if this will be a x reader fic, May mostly be platonic Summary:
“What you did was foolish and impulsive. What were you thinking?”
“Don’t. Not right now, Zayne.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“She’s only thirteen. She won’t survive out there.”
“And you will?” No, you thought. No, I don’t think I will.
With each passing year, you begin to feel you are destined to be chosen as a tribute to fight in the next Hunger Games. Each year, you are proven wrong. But this particular year, you were right, not because you were chosen, but because you volunteered to save a friend and someone you considered a sister. What happens when you are not only fighting to survive, but may also have to fight your childhood friend?
This is now on AO3, if anyone wants to check it out and leave kudos or any comments!
──── dream a little dream of me ✿ ft. varka
synopsis. for the longest time, varka’s dreams have always been just that—dreams. he returns to mondstadt and faces the possibility that maybe they can be more
word count. 5.5k words — me when this was supposed to be a drabble </3
before you read. female reader ; mutual pining for years ; friends to lovers ; written pre varka release — contains spoilers of his lore from his animated short “another prologue” ; made up mondstadt folklore by me lol ; drunk varka + mentions of alcohol and drinking ; varka returns to mondstadt!! ; slight angst BUT it’s happy in the end okay?? ; getting together ; making out by the statue of barbatos rip barbatos pls forgive this behavior ; not proof read oops
commentary. anyway. good luck to varka wanters!! i will not be joining you but may you all be varka havers
Varka has dreams. Vivid, merciless things that visit him in the quiet hours of the night.
He dreams of a dragon tearing across Mondstadt’s sky—of twin greatwords in his hands and wind at his back as he faces such a beast. He dreams of victory. Of returning home triumphant. He sees the city gates thrown open, hears the thunder of clapping hands and cheering voices, and the unmistakable relief on the faces of his knights as their grand master comes back to them at last. He dreams of a statue carved in his likeness. Of his glass never empty, always filled with his favorite dandelion wine, poured in honor of a hero.
He dreams of what-ifs. Of could-have-beens. Of a distant past that could have been his to look back on fondly.
Don't Go Peacefully
Summary:
“What you did was foolish and impulsive. What were you thinking?”
“Don’t. Not right now, Zayne.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“She’s only thirteen. She won’t survive out there.”
“And you will?” No, you thought. No, I don’t think I will.
With each passing year, you begin to feel you are destined to be chosen as a tribute to fight in the next Hunger Games. Each year, you are proven wrong. But this particular year, you were right, not because you were chosen, but because you volunteered to save a friend and someone you considered a sister. What happens when you are not only fighting to survive, but may also have to fight your childhood friend?
A/N: I'm halfway done with Sunrise on the Reaping, and that just got me thinking about a Hunger Games AU for LADS. Have not figured out whether I am planning to do any ships for this story; so far, it will be platonic, but may escalate to Caleb x Reader. Still up in the air.
Let me know what you guys think!
Click here to read on AO3
Word Count: 5.4k
This is Money Snake. She only appears every 312 years.
If you reblog her picture within the next twenty-five seconds you will have good luck and fortune for the rest of your life.
I reblogged her late last year and my 2024 has been very satisfying work-wise and (secure enough to not stress out) money-wise so far. Money Snake is wise and good.
