‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 katsuki bakugo and his pretty pink princess, (y/n),,, everyone knows he practically worships the ground she walks on
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 a darling as sweet as you as the ability to soften up anyone who runs a little bit rougher around the edges, but still, people were honestly surprised to see the two of you end up together at first
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 but the second anyone got to see you two in action, or really, you in action,,, everything started to make sense
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 all it takes is one lil "please, 'suki?" when you ask him for something you want, and immediately you're being met with a hot red flush dusted along his cheeks, accompanied by a gruff " 'course, doll."
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 and doll because that's what you are to him; his pretty little pink princess dolly !! and what more does a pretty lil' doll such as yourself need more than accessories ?
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 katsuki lives and breathes for being able to finance your rather expensive pretty pink lifestyle,,, pays for your hair, your nails, your toes, your clothes, your make up, blah blah blah yada yada you want it he's swiping his card for it, no questions asked
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 only thing he’s asking for in return is a show; needs to see what all his moneys going into after all !!
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 absolutely absolutely adores watching you prance around your shared apartment with your hair freshly blown out or braided, pretty white manicured toes padding against the floor as you burst through the doors of his home office, a plethora of different name brand shopping bags looped over your arms
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 and he'll stop what he's doing to give you his full attention, all these stupid emails to those stupid extras can wait whenever his baby has new goodies to show him
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 makes you change in front of him as you're sifting through all your new clothes, it was a little embarrassing at first feeling his hungry eyes on your exposed body as you stripped out of your new silk blouse to shimmy into a new lace cami, both purchased on katsuki's card
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 but now its practically second nature to you, and you're expecting his feedback on what he likes best of course <3
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 and bakugo is more than happy to give it to you, in fact this is his favorite time of any day; watching his pretty girl cycle through all the different pretty clothes and accessories she's picked out for herself, spinning and strutting and posing and pouting for him and him alone, seeking his opinion on what he thinks looks best on you
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 he adores your all pink aesthetic, secretly lovessss how much of a stark difference it is to his otherwise dark and brooding aesthetic. but he does love it even more when your pretty pink lace camis or little baby pink mini skirts come with black accenting, it drives him absolutely mad
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "i picked this one because it has the black stitching, i know you like that." you purr as you pull over a soft pink slip dress over your frame. its straps, lace and stitching along the sides and front are black, offering a darker contrast to its otherwise babydoll aesthetic
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "i love that." he corrects your smugly, getting up from his spot in his desk chair to wrap his arms around you instead. its hard for him to keep his hands to himself during these little show and tell sessions,,, you find that they always take much longer than you'd anticipated because katsuki often times finds himself,,, distracted
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 you'd be surprised how much he lets you get away with simply because of the hold you have over him; he doesn't bat an eye when you bring home all pink accent decorations for your kitchen and living space alike. he rests his head against a light pink silk pillow every night, apart of your all pink matching bed set, (you told him that the silk is better for your hair compared to regular cotton, and he actually does notice the difference ever since you'd forced him into the switch !!)
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 i mean, he doesn't even complain when you bring home matching couples pajama pants for the two of you to lounge in together on the couch when you force him into watching your favorite films... only an eyeroll
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 and if katsuki does try to give you any lip,,, all you need to do is give him those wide, tightlined saucer like eyes of yours, coupled up with one of those infamous pouts and he's putty in your hands !!
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 you might even be able to get him to apologize for upsetting you in the first place if you really milk it, LOL !!
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 you're bakugo's baby,,, his sweet lil angel,,, his precious princess,,, his prefect little doll !!! he'd do whatever it takes to keep a smile on those perfectly pouty pink glossed lips of yours. he's got a real soft spot for ya, bad. and he honestly doesn't care what any of those damned extras have got to say about him, or how he acts around and about you. you've got him on a very tight leash, but in all honesty... katsuki wants his collar on even tighter <333
hello my sweet babies, and happy valentines day <3 please enjoy these very self indulgent katsuki headcannons that r being loaded up into my queue for this very special love day !! today i'll be out all day at disneyworld with my bf haha, and tomorrow is my birthday so i'll be celebrating by throwing a little the amazing digital circus themed bday party !! i won't be online much this weekend so please excuse my masterlist and blog being a bit behind on updates until i have some free time on monday <3 thank you for reading as always and i hope you enjoyed these !! i may continue them if i get in another pinkie mood hehehe,,, these were actually inspired by a req i got for sebastian from sdv with the same premise so thank you to that anon for putting this brainworm in my head, lol !! ok love y'all bye happy vday !!! <3333333
a/n: this is reposted because the first time I posted it with no hashtags smh🤦🏾♀️ thank you for bearing with me!
This is gonna be very long, my bad gang. If you dont wanna respond to this long ass essay, feel free to ignore my ramblings, i understand
I feel like dark cacao is gonna have the biggest crashout out of all the ancients, like imagine
1. You just survived being basically daily-drugged by your now fugitive twink subordinate and almost murdered by your son FOR THE SECOND TIME
2. Your presumed dead situationship (that you still have feeling for??) Is alive for some reason after more than a century
3. You have a CHILD with said situationship, which is also the child of your 4 closest friends (who also have situationships with YOUR situationship???)
4. Said fugitive twink was arrested at your situationship's house, being a dad to YOUR baby, trying to drug YOUR situationship, and had the audacity to WALTZ her across the battle feild while being detained (she got shot btw)
Dark crashout's reaction is gonna add years to my life
LAST ONE I PROMISE, DONT FEED ME TO THE CHIHUAHUAS, im interested to see whether the ancients will compete with each other or get mischievous and polyamorous
I really wanted it answer this because it sent me when I read this a while ago lmao. The “She got shot btw” made me giggle fr
And by the reaction at the end of last chapter, you know Dark Cacao will rein hell for many many reasons
Like Dark Cacao should NOT be trying to and scold (Name) for trusting Affogato, when his ass easily nodded along to him and exiled my queen Caramel Arrow (Justice for my girlie 😔) and almost let his kingdom fall into ruins by his own paranoia and poisoned hate.
There will be more moments in the POV of the Ancients, but I’ll give a slight spoiler. Your guess of (Name) being their situationships are right on the money, as they had more intimate moments that (Name) naturally assumed they liked them too, which led up to the confession.
But ohhhhh nooooo, none of the ancients, especially Dark Cacao, have the natural skills having an emotional vulnerability of their feelings towards the subject of love.
So when you see that damn twink of a traitor practically glued by your situationship’s side, WITH A BABY you apparently had with them, and the twink traitor had the audacity to be doing every romantic and fatherly gestures to the two poor souls? You would feel some sort of rage.
Sooooo the crash out will be GRAND!! The confrontation involving Calico would be HUGE and comical too lmao. And of course ANGST!! Shouts and harsh words will be spat out, either to each other or even to (Name)! But you think they would take that?
Notes: Wanderer will be called Wanderer, or you can imagine the name you gave him, and Traveler will be referred to as Traveler since no one knows their real name except their sibling (and maybe Paimon?). Sorry this is rushed
A story where ones hope to love another turns hopeless.
"Traveler, can I.. tell you something?"
"Hm? Of course!"
You whip your head around to make sure no one else but the traveler can hear and whisper to their ear, "I like Wanderer."
The Traveler's eyes widen at your sudden confession and excitedly say, or rather, exclaim, "You do!?" She laughs bubbly. "I knew it! Sooo, when are you planning to confess?" They ask, their eyes practically sparkling.
"C-Confess!? No, no, no. I can't do that. Or at least, not yet!"
"And why not?"
"I don't even know him that well; I doubt he even remembers me."
"As if. you're practically hovering around him 24/7. I'm sure he remembers you. I would even go as far as to say that he likes you back!"
"Really? You think so.?"
"Mhm! If he didn't like you, he would've told you so, harshly, or even ignored your entire existence."
"Then..do you think I have a chance? You're really, really~ close to him, right?"
"Hmm~..Yeah?"
"Wha, so I really don't have a chance..!"
"Kidding, kidding, I think you have a high chance."
You continue to panic inside and overthink the possible endings if you were to confess. The traveler, noticing this, tells you, "How about this? I ask him if he's currently into anyone and maybe even pry enough to get him to say the name, ahem, your name, ahem."
"Really? You would do that for me?"
"Of course, you're my best friend."
"Of course I like, no, I love them. That isn't even a question worth answering; it's a given." Wanderer rolls his eyes and walks away to who knows where.
After waiting until the man was gone, you slowly walk out of your hiding spot, bubbling with joy. You and the traveler share a look and high-five each other.
After finding out about Wanderer's feelings for you, you consistently hung around him more; he always acted annoyed, but it wasn't any different from past interactions you've had with him.
You figured that this truly is just how he shows affection, somehow, like a tsundere!
And so you bid your time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to confess.
And when the time came, you faced a great humiliation.
It turns out he wasn't in love with you at all. No, he could never fall in love with someone like you; he said it himself after all.
You felt sick in your stomach, like it was churning, your throat was aching, and it felt dry.
While it was true he loved a Y/N, the Y/N he loved was not you. He loved the Creator.
How did you not know about this Creator? They even have the same name as you.
Wait, no, something's weird. What's this about a creator? You don't remember Teyvat having anything like that.
But before you could ponder anymore, your train of thoughts was interrupted by a coughing fit, covering your mouth with your hands. You tried to stop coughing, but the itching feeling was too much to handle.
Cough
Cough
You pause, 'petals?', where did the petals come from? There's no flowers around you
Clutching your hand, you began to spiral in your thoughts.
The Traveler kept calling out to you but received no response.
'Ah..'
'My head..it hurts..throat..water..'
"Y/N?"
'Is someone calling me..?'
"He— Y/N!"
Thud
Opening your eyes, you see an unfamiliar ceiling above you.
Now on alert, you begin scanning your surroundings.
Creak
Surprised by the sudden sound of the door, as if by reflex, you quickly pretended to be asleep, just like the times you pretended to be asleep when you still stayed at your parents house when you were younger.
"Oh, you're awake."
They begin to move closer to you, and your breath hitches, but you remain unmoved.
"Chill Y/N. It's just me."
Now able to listen to the voice more clearly, you realize it's the Traveler.
Slowly opening your eyes, you're greeted by the sight of Traveler smiling at you beside your bed.
'I knew the traveler was good-looking, but damn. Imagine waking up to this sight.'
"Here, drink some water." The traveler offers, and you reach for the water in their hands, of course, saying thank you in the exchange.
"What happened?" you ask.
"You passed out out of nowhere; oh, don't worry, I made sure to get you checked out by a doctor, and they said that you probably just overworked yourself."
"I see.."
"Oh! The petals..! Did the doctor say anything about it?" You inquire.
"Petals? What petals?" the Traveler tilts their head in confusion.
"Before I passed out, I think I coughed up some flower petals."
"Ah..you must still be a bit dazed. Don't worry, you didn't cough up any petals. And if you did, well, that's a bit worrying. We can get you checked again if you want."
You shake your head, "No, its alright, I trust you. I probably just imagined it or something.."
Deciding to trust your friend, you try to move onto another subject, "By the way, where are we? I don't recognize this place."
"Oh! We're at my teapot."
"Hmm~ You decorated this place wel—I mean, what?! Teapot!?" Realizing that the Traveler might find it odd if you don't question how being inside a teapot works, you acted surprised in the middle, hoping that the Traveler would fall for your clumsy acting.
The Traveler stares at you for a second or two before answering. "Yup! I got this as a... gift of friendship. It uses adeptal energy to maintain the place, I guess? I don't really know the complexities about this place, so you can just ask Tubby about any questions regarding this place." The Traveler explains
"Hmm..Adeptal energy, huh? I've heard of that before..Liyue, right?"
"That's right!"
As you and the Traveler engage in casual conversation, you start to feel an itch in your throat, but you decide to ignore it. It's probably just a common cold about to come.
After resting for a few days in the teapot at the behest of the Traveler, you began engaging in your normal everyday life, or as normal as it could; you no longer hang around the Wanderer and try your absolute best to avoid ever running into him. Some people either look at you mockingly or with pity. But it's fine. You don't care about them; they won't have an effect on your life.
Another thing that's different from normal, though, is the fact that you're coughing up blood-stained flowers.
You didn't know the cause; you didn't want to worry other people, so you didn't tell anyone, but you did go see a doctor secretly, although not even they could provide the cause.
All you knew was that, upon looking back, it all started with a small cough, flower petals, and then as time went on, you started coughing up petals with blood.
You were worried that the next thing that might come out of your mouth might be full-grown flowers, but surely that's not possible, right?
A/N: SO..This was supposed to be an idea post like Live Stream, but the past me decided to write about it at the time with no planning whatsoever. Even the character chosen (Wanderer) was not planned. It was originally Xiao, but I couldn't do it since the dialogue didn't feel "Xiao," so I just swapped it with Wanderer since he has a very veryyy blunt personality.
So yes, this is technically unfinished, and I don't think I'll ever get back to it if I just continue to leave it inside my drafts.
Feel free to make a fic out of this, and if you do..PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TAG ME. I'VE BEEN CRAVING SAGAU + HANAHAKI DISEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
Additional notes regarding this fic are in the comments
a Miguel x f!reader "who did this to you?" Angst fic?
Bittersweet Devotion
Pairing : Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader
Cw: angst, neglect, canon death, dead wife, tell me if I missed any.
Wc: 3.5k
Miguel’s been distant these days, the world around him coming to a stop. His temper shortened and his patience dropped lower than it was before, but his attentiveness to his work sharpened. He divulged more of his time to the cause, to defend the multiverse from every anomaly that kept popping up in wildly different universes, at the cost of his personal life. Ever since the *Miles issue* had been dealt with (Spots was stopped from ending Captain Morales’ life prematurely, the canon was kept safe and intact, but his parents knew of his identity and his duty to New York and the multiverse.), Miguel shut himself inside the main office, closed off from the wandering Spider-people he brought over to help him protect their livelihood.
Atop his platform, he worked tirelessly, swiping screen to screen in search of any escaping anomalies. He depended on Lyla to help him search and the rest of the community to capture and contain these anomalies before they could be sent back to their appropriate universe, closing the rifts they used to escape. The brooding Spider-Man locked himself in, imposing shoulder peering from the edge of his high-floating platform while he stayed there most nights; days even, he hadn’t returned to your shared apartment in the building. He ate when you, Jess or Peter B. brought food to him, he drank and cleaned only when you urged him to do so.
Staying in his den meant that he rarely slept, the dark bags under his beautiful eyes growing as the days passed. Anomalies appeared left and right, Spiders were dispersed to catch them, sometimes in solo missions, and other times in teams if Miguel deemed it necessary for the anomaly (Green Goblins, Vultures and Sandman were some that were harder to deal with for their volatile attacks.). If you weren’t sent away on a retrieval mission, you’d be working around his office, keeping it clean and usable while he moved around, growling and throwing things as he went.
That’s where things became complicated, Miguel hated meddling and you were often in his space. While he was soft and caring in your shared room (the one he hadn’t been in for weeks now), he was domineering and imposing around the others. His shorter temper meant he often hissed and growled at you, brown eyes glimmering red as he sneered your way. You hadn’t made much of it, contributing his issues to the stress and anxiety he felt while shouldering all this madness. His glares and growls meant little, he was under pressure, but his words, his rants in your face hurt.
His words burned you to your core, the degrading things he screamed at you when you did something that might’ve ticked him off or the insults he’d throw your way when you did something he deemed unsatisfactory. They stung, but you ignored the pain that tore into your heart, the tears that threatened to fall and the anger you felt at his shrugs. You simply missed him.
Didn’t you deserve some affection? To feel the tender caresses of Miguel’s hands on your skin, the loving promises of his dreams and wishes, and the adoring stares he sent your way. Were you selfish for wanting that? For wanting to have your lover back in your arms. Or were you feeling neglected from the time you spent alone in your bed, the faded scent of his musk, the coldness of your apartment and the uneaten and forgotten plates on the dining table? Were you at fault for feeling forgotten? To sacrifice one for the good of thousands. To sacrifice your love for the safety of all universes. Did one outweigh the other?
“Hijo de puta! Why can’t you do anything right?!” He’d scowl at you, talons digging into the metal of his desk. The ear-splitting sound echoed as he dragged his talons to the edge of the table, red eyes brimming with wrath. He seemed on a warpath, ripping into anything he could get his talons in and throwing the things he could lift off the platform. (Motherfucker-)
You skipped around the objects he threw in his fit, ducking under a chair he gripped and swung randomly, over the desk he kicked, and around the cabinet, he swiped at. Every object he used to vent his emotions were light, in comparison to your given strength. He’d complain afterwards about his things being broken and needing fixing, something you helped him with unless they were too technologically advanced for your time. You webbed all the things you could, aiming your wrist and quickly sticking your end to the floating platform when it stuck to the victims of Miguel’s power.
You danced around him, catching everything without getting too close to Miguel. He acted without thinking at times in these fury-filled moments, eyes tinging red and reverting to his more animalistic side. He’d warned you before about staying clear of him, to wait until he calmed himself down and realized the devastation of his office. Then he’d apologize and kiss you in hopes you’d forgive him (you always did, you knew his biology made him different - more violent - than you and the Spiders.). You’d fix the platform up, remake the broken parts or simply forget about it, like the many cabinets he ended up buying instead of patching them up.
Now especially, his tantrums began more often and lasted longer, a common occurrence when it was rare months ago. You couldn’t fault him, you didn’t want to, even if your heart throbbed painfully at his words, shoulders curving under the immensity of his tone and actions. You loved him, so you’d bare him in his best as in his worst.
“Detente- Simplemente detente!” In his fits of rage, Miguel reverted to his vulgarity, spitting Spanish words at anyone he faced. His voice was low and gravely, body convulsing as he swung at the fizzling, orange screens, dissipating under his aggressive gesture. (Stop- Just stop!)
When his fuse popped, he’d throw words left and right in Spanish, the enchanting slur of his Mexican accent turning hellish, slamming loudly like the Hephaestus’ hammer. Along his hit came the blow, the effects following them. Whether they were positive or negative, he pushed on, frenziedly hammering the weight of his words into whoever was the nearest to him. Which, coincidentally, happened to be you at the moment when you climbed onto his platform to relay the summarised report of last week’s missions from every Spider.
You let him ramble in silence, watching him twist on the spot and walk circles before his desk, turning and gesturing arbitrarily at something that wasn’t there. He’s expressive with his love, his spite, his care, his needs and his fury. He’d make big motions with his hands, voice dipping low and sometimes rising high with the pitch of his impatience. He growls when he’s displeased. He roars when he’s furious. He spits when he’s agitated. He smirks when he’s pleased. If not his voice or his lips, his eyes shine with emotion, showing those who knew how to read him how he felt.
That’s why you ignored the sharp nabs at your person, the low jabs at your work and how you dealt with the other Spiders as his right hand, or at your simple performance of his care. He didn’t want your care when he was busy, he didn’t want your soft and soothing words when he was tracking down another anomaly with vehement hate, and he didn’t want your meddling when he was focused on important matters of the multiverse.
He was stressed, and pressure mounted over self-expectations made him lose himself. Down went his tolerance for failure and mistakes. Down went his awareness of his needs. Down went his patience with people and Lyla. Every man and woman would buck under intense pressure, some would break and stop working, and others would submit to the fate of their failures, but Miguel persevered, he pushed and pushed, pulling at the strings he could grasp, even the shortest ones.
“Can you just- Coño- can you just shut up for a second?!” Miguel bucked, slamming his fist into the desk. It’d probably leave a dent for you or him to fix, a hole in the shape of his fist.
You rushed to him, hand wrapping around his upper arm, supporting his hunched body as you webbed a chair closer to him, pulling on the synthetic fibre until it was behind Miguel. You whispered encouraging words into his ear, easing him into sitting on the rolling furniture. His legs shook, falling limp when he finally sat down, back slumped over and head low. You ran your fingers through his hairline, pulling up his wild mane. His eyes were closed, bags the deepest you’d seen, and his cheeks were sunken, near sickly.
A chill wracked your body at his deteriorating appearance, his exhaustion had finally caught onto him. You wanted to fuss over him, to berate him for letting it get this far, but his exhausted figure made you frown and rethink your words. You couldn’t let this go on, you’d have to sit him down and talk to him after you took care of him. You lowered the platform, watching Miguel from the corner of your eye until you reached the lowest it could go.
“Miguel,” you hushed, pressing your lips to his cheek, soft and gentle for his fatigue. “We need to get you to our room, you can’t work anymore.”
He grumbled, feet weakly moving to ease the weight on your shoulders, you wanted to remind him that you were strong and that you could easily carry him back if you wanted, but he liked to keep his pride as the strongest, the boss that people could depend on. You nodded at those who gave you worried glances, shaking their helping hands for carrying him (you knew Miguel wouldn’t have liked others to touch him so casually.) and asked some to run errands for you while you two were busy. Lyla would take over for now, until you took care of Miguel.
“Let me help you, Miggy. Let me take care of you.”
He slept better than night, the best sleep he’d gotten in weeks - months - and was grounded to a week of rest and recuperation. You helped him shower, washing his back and hair. You cooked his favourite dishes, following the Mexican cooking books you had laying around. You gave him daily massages for the aches over his shoulders and back, massing the tenseness off his arms and legs. At night, you’d force him to bed, blocking his access to his office and kissing him goodnight. The sun rose with you, you rode Hélio’s chariot, turning his nights into mornings as you pulled Selena’s moon into the sky.
While he rested, you worked tirelessly to fill in Miguel’s seat, scouring the multiverse for anomalies and sending Spiders to deal with them. You had Lyla run diagnostics and simulations about the chance for future appearances, playing the game of prediction and bettering the percentage after each successful prediction. Peter B. and Jess could help you around the clock, they shared the job you had as Miguel’s right-hand and worked fantastically together when put in charge of it. They were still sent on missions if you and Lyla determined it was too difficult to face alone, they were skilled and had experience, and they would mentor those who needed help. If the case came forward, you would step away from the office and jump through the multiverse, aiding your fellow Spiders to capture anomalies while Lyla took care of the office.
Miguel came back healthier, stronger and more energetic. He thanked you in the forms of kisses and hugs, gratified words and gestures that made your heart warm, flutter like wings. It nearly made you forget all the heartache he burdened you with within the past months. Nearly.
Something had ticked Miguel off, his ragged breath simmering in the air, a steady stream of fury. It burned like the lowest pits of hell, ruled by the cold tone of its god, seated at the top-most throne of the Underworld. Powerful and iron-handed, Hades led with strong principles and meticulous habits, much like Miguel did. His fury and anger were dealt by Cerberus, the three-headed dog of hell, as ferocious and dangerous as Miguel’s agitated state was.
His shoulders shook, waves of unadulterated rage filtered off his back, rippling his sculpted back as metal creaked under his hands. His talons sunk into the metal, drawing lines in his anger-filled moment. He spun to face you with a roar, arms flailing until he faced you. He heaved heavily, shoulders and chest moving as his blood rushed with emotions, eyes dilated and turned deep red. He stalked towards you in all his mad glory, like the form of the Cyclops casting its dooming shadow on Odysseus’ men. Except, unlike his men, who were eaten in a blink, embraced by death in such a violent but swift way, you’d be ripped apart by it, pieces of your being torn apart for a slow and painful descent.
He moved in big, lumbering steps, looming over you, shoulders broad and demanding. He sneered at you, in ways that would kill others but wound you deeply, to tear your heart out and throw it away like old, wilted flowers. The air seemed stuffy, hot and confining, his breath even hotter, burning you when he stopped inches from you. You gaped at him, eyes wide and fingers trembling, something crossed your mind, a flash of emotion that you never thought possible to connect to Miguel: fear.
“Why can’t you be like-!” He started, mind dead set on breaking you down to your smallest, his force slamming into your softer one. Then he stopped, body seizing as if he was shot, but his round eyes told you he almost let himself slip, to let the name slip from his tongue in a haze. You knew who he was talking about, the memories that he related to her, that he was simply mad, but it didn’t ease the pain that ripped through your heart.
“Like who, Miguel!?” You cried back, hands clenching and rigid on your side. Your body trembling with disgust, shock and heartbreak. You couldn’t believe he would bring her up, to compare you to her and voice it out. It hurt; it drove the nail deeper into your coffin, adding another thing over the mountain of doubt and pain.
He just stared, he couldn’t finish his sentence, a starch contrast to his attitude seconds ago. It pained you that he couldn’t even say the words, to apologize to you about what he said. He knew how to run, how to ignore, and how to push things back. He did that well, and now he couldn’t face what he said to you was pathetic.
“Like who, huh?! Like her!? Like Dana?!” Your vision blurred, and your breath hitched as your body crashed down with agony, sadness and betrayal. You shook this time while he looked on with desperation, body unable to make a sound or motion.
“I- no- mi cielo, no- I didn’t mean to, I swear, ” he reached out, hand (his talons had received back into his pads) extending to touch you, to hold you in an apologetic embrace, but you stepped back, unable to contain your sobs. “Mi vida, please. Perdón, no fue mi intención.” (I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.)
You backed away from him, his warmth, his adoration, his love. His apology sounded guilty, dripping with regret and sorrow. He winced, watching you step away from him, regret gripping his heart as he moved to follow you. Every step you took backward, he took one forward, copying you, trying to approach you as if you were a wounded and unpredictable animal, to appease and soothe you.
You shook your head, tearing your eyes away from his teary ones. You fiddled with your watch, opening a portal to your world and shook off your watch. You jumped back before he could catch you, hand extended to you in a desperate attempt to stop you. He wanted to bring you back into his arms, to kiss the tears away and beg for forgiveness until you let him back in, but to leave him, to throw away the watch that connected you to him. It *broke* him.
He wouldn’t be able to see you unless you wanted to be seen, the tracker in your watch left blinking before his feet, discarded as you had with him; after he pushed you away, tore you down with his words spurred by the moment’s rush of negativity and pressure. It wasn’t an excuse, he knew that, but it didn’t ease. He sank to the floor, raking it with his talons as he cried out, a pained sob breaking out of his chest as he cradled his head, cursing himself for not being careful, for not heeding your winces and frowns, and not taking your heart into consideration.
You fell when you landed in your universe, knocking a few boxes as you crashed onto your side. Your body jerked, cold droplets pouring down on your broken figure as you sat back up on the pavement. You hissed, the downcast atmosphere making your body heave a heartbroken sob, clutching your chest - where your heart would’ve been if Miguel hadn’t shattered it - and falling into yourself. You made yourself smaller, hiding your tear-stained face between your knees as you let the rain shower over you, soaking you down to your socks.
A relationship built on pain, need and desperation was bound to fall. The carelessness of his ways cracked the edge of your relationship, slowly breaking it down into a shell of what it was. You bled for his cause as you bled for your loss. Like Apollo - a caregiver, a watcher of the fates of the people he oversaw, all the good and evil he could do just by saying the word - Miguel loved and felt, he gave and took, but lost it all in the end. His heart was broken and his soul lost over and over, the people he loved and cared for lost to time and fate. Like the Greek god, he loved what he could not have, loved what he could not hold, loved what he could not keep.
As would Daphne’s story, she loved as much as you did, she cared as much as you did, and she hated as much as you did. In love was the god, as Miguel was with you, heart-stopping in every aspect. He stood like a god over them all, tall, broad and caring. But like any Greek love story, yours was as tragic, the hymn of your love left to fester with hate and anger, with regret and untold pain. Run, you did as Daphne had, crossing where you hoped he couldn’t reach you; where you’d be left hidden from the heartbreaking sorrow.
You didn’t know how long you sat in the rain, perhaps seconds, perhaps minutes, perhaps hours, but every moment blurred into one. The once vibrant colours of New York dulled to a boring monochrome, the world was swallowed in tones of black and white. Your limbs felt numb, you could hardly feel the cold, only the drops of rain and the heaviness of your heart in your chest. You could sit here a while longer, to drown in the sensation of the world falling around you-
Then it stopped raining. That wasn’t right, you could see the water crashing onto the ground by your feet, inches from you. Your side felt warm, a calm, soothing warmth that made your body quake from the cool air. You looked to the side and saw feet, big ones. You followed their body, tracing the lines of their soaking pants, to a warm jacket, broad shoulders and to a familiar face.
“Oye, who did this to you?” His voice dripped with worry, a calmness that contradicted his frowning eyes. It was a familiar voice. It was a familiar face. It was Miguel’s face. Your lips quivered, staring at the face of your lover - ex-lover now that you thought about it - with newly shed tears. His eyes widened, even more worried than before as he crouched down to your height, hand running down your back soothingly. “Hey, hey, calm down. It’s all right.”
You wished you could believe his words, believe the softness in his tone and the beat of your torturous heart that missed the Miguel you knew. This one - your universe’s Miguel O’Hara (you didn’t even know you had one in your New York, it felt surreal to your depressed mind.) - was a stranger wearing the face of the person you loved. His face was a carbon copy of your Miguel’s, but softer on the edges, calmer and more… human than Spider-man 2099. His voice was gentler, caring more warmth for a stranger in need than yours has, like a whisper from an angel lulling you into a peaceful rest.
I'M FINALLY FREE FROM THE TITLE DEFENSE AND I HAVE GOTTEN 16 HOURS OF SLEEP AFTER NOT SLEEPING FOR TWO NIGHTS STRAIGHT, additionally, I have a lot of free time on my hands before I have to conduct an interview so I can update as much as I want!
This one is just random which I got after I interacted with an awesome friend that came from a province in visayas, she taught me some words of her native language so I just had to type this as soon as I can!
Synopsis:
Waking up in a desert is not what you had expected as soon as you opened your eyes, but learning the fact that you transported inside of the game that you played, had blown your mind.
Genshin characters x fem!reader.
Warning:
Ooc, grammatical errors, misspellings, cursing, possible SPOILER for the new players, inaccurate lore lmao.
Imagine your surprise when you woke up in the middle of desert, your only source of hope was the bag icon at the corner of your sight.
You remembered that you finished the quest concerning on saving nahida and even finished the quest of wanderer as well as finishing the caribert quest, after that you decided to take a break before starting the other archon quest and ended up falling asleep.
However, you don't know where you are now.
"Where the hell am I?!" You screeched, heart beat racing inside of your chest as you look around.
Ding!
As if on cue, a screen appeared before your eyes, the white background with a golden frame that are quite similar to genshin impact's notice board, the text is on cursive font with golden color following each word.
Welcome to your world, player!
"My world? Is this earth?" You asked to no one particular, your eyes blinking rapidly as the text started to change.
Congratulations!
Out of million players around the globe, you had been chosen to be the lucky one! Your only mission on this world is to have fun, do commissions, venture into the unknown.
An option with continue appeared below and you hesitantly press on it, thinking if you could press on the screen and to your surprise, you did. Your jaw dropped when you saw the text change once again, your heart racing once more as you read the instruction.
This world is vast so to compensate for the sudden transport of your being, we decided to give you the infinite inventory! Along with the items you had acquired before getting transported into this world! The inventory will have several items stored in it, including the quests items, the companions, and your serenitea pot! Isn't that just so amazing?
The option of continue appeared once again, you didn't hesitate to press on it, a second had passed and the screen showed you a map— your breath hitched when you realized where you are. There was several (color) dots on the map and you could only guess that those probably are the characters across the nation.
The screen became transparent for a second and the map icon had appeared beside the bag icon, you noticed just now that a book icon also appeared at the upper right.
Ding!
The sound reached your ears again before the notification screen appeared in front of you.
To learn how to communicate, you must press the book on your screen! The language might take a few days for you to learn while the others might take months, but fret not! A character you will form a friendship with, will help you learn much faster!
You stared at it in disbelief, did it seriously told you that you need to interact for you to learn faster? No, what shocks you the most is, there are several languages that you need to learn in order to communicate with others?! Isn't English a universal language? Didn't they implemented it on the game?
We're very sorry for the inconvenience, player! Which is why we decided to give you another compensation to make up with it.
The screen became transparent and a shopping cart icon appeared in front of you then it slid across the screen and went between the bag icon and the book icon.
Now, you can buy anything you want without going to the stores! We've place a couple mora in your bag in order for you to get a reassuring and secure income for a while. Again, please forgive us for the inconvenience, don't forget to have fun!
With that, the screen vanished.
"Holy shit.." You don't know how to feel about what just happened, "Whatever.. There's no use panicking now, I need to get off this desert before I get whipped through that sandstorm."
You lifted your hand and pressed the map icon, your eyes stared at the nearest waypoint which is at the city and the Aaru village. You don't know which one would be safer, to be teleported to the city or to the village.
You don't want Cyno to chase your ass if he saw you appear into thin air because only the traveler can use the waypoint after all. You let out a shaky breath and decided to take your chance before pressing the waypoint on the village.
A flash of white had caused for you to close your eyes, you couldn't open them until you started hearing the voices of people, they were speaking in a language that you do not understand.
You blinked, adjusting your sight to the newly found light.
"Oh, fuck.." You cursed under your breath when you saw Candace walk through the door.
She seem to heard you and turned her attention to your direction, her eyebrows furrowed when she saw your clothing wasn't the same as theirs nor the other people across sumeru. Your clothing was quite weird because come on, you were transported into the game as soon as you woke up.
So right now, you're on your pajamas.. Which consists of, (color) long sleeve shirt and a black short. The temperature on your country was hot at the time so you ended wearing short in your sleep, but that hot weather wouldn't stop you from wearing any hoodie or long sleeve shirt of yours.
You flinched in your spot when you saw Candace walking towards you, her hand on her hip as she approach you with grace.
She abruptly stop in front of you and you could only stand there, blinking like an idiot.
Then she opened her mouth to speak, "Heo ayw tpu?"
Just then, you realized that you should have learned their language before teleporting yourself to the village because now, you have no idea what she was asking.
It took you exactly five hours to try and gesture that you came from another nation— which was a lie because you weren't from anywhere in this world, but you can't have Candace knowing that you aren't genshin characters, not that she know that she's one of them.
"Ob fute toute hyberi fo jeyd tef, qtwq gyst ov eome cevatse Grgua tols nt yjar fhw bufke d hone cpplrf nrak." Candace told you, leading you inside the hall and when you stepped inside, you saw Dehya sitting on the table with freshly cooked meal on the table.
Your face brightened up at the sight of the food and you couldn't stop yourself from walking ahead of Candace to sit down in front of the tall female on the table.
Dehya raised an eyebrow when she saw you, her eyes widened as you sat down in front of her, it was brief, but she saw the twinkling stars on your eyes before it quickly vanished.
She doesn't know who you are, but seeing those stars, you might have been blessed by the creator.
"Wois laizh lais kwr?" Candace's question had brought Dehya out of her stupor, "Fi tog javr d psovltn qufk nu gyrdy?"
The fiery woman could guess that Candace haven't seen the stars on your eyes so she only shook her head to answer her questions, she'll leave the revelation on her and wait for the shorter woman's reaction.
After the interaction between them, they both gestured for you to start eating, Dehya was rather adamant on making you full while Candace seem to be disapprove of her friend's forceful nature, but nonetheless, you enjoyed the meal given by the two of them.
It took at least a whole week for you to get on Candace's soft side, at the first couple days, she would stay by your side to make sure that you wouldn't do anything suspicious, but now, she would stay beside you to make sure that no one would bother you.
Which is why, right now, you're inside the hall and staring at yourself infront of the mirror with Candace smiling proudly to herself as she examine your appearance, you can feel your face heating up due to embarrassment.
"Uhm.. I don't know if you can understand me or not, but.. Please stop with this nonsense!" You cried out.
Candace seem to understand the predicament you were in when you only stared at her on the first day, you weren't the first one to visit the desert after all, there were a lot of people that came from the other nation that took interest in the desert and she guessed that you're probably one of them.
She took it upon herself to bring you inside of the hall, stay by your side most of the time and now, she forced told you to change your clothes into more airy ones because your long sleeve shirt are quite dangerous for the scorching weather of the desert, she is quite afraid that you might end up like a certain fennec fox she knows so she took the liberty of handing you some clothes that would fit you— of course, she handed you the ones that are similar to her outfit.
"Fone tpu kukr oy?" She asked, rasing an eyebrow at you, "Oy kpopjd huos ib tpu rgpyj." She added on while examining your appearance.
You opened your mouth to say something but the sound of the door opening and closing had caught both yours and Candace attention. The two of you got quiet and waited for the person to go into your line of sight and when the person did, your lips turned into a straight line.
"I heard from Dehya that you found someone who's not from here and took her in." Cyno said.
Your jaw dropped when you understood everything that he had said, your eyes became wide and you couldn't stop yourself from rushing to him— gripping his arms and excitedly shaking the hell out of him.
"I can understand you! Oh my god, I understand you!" You squealed, your entire being shaking from the sudden rush of excitement.
Cyno's heart raced, his eyes wide in shock when your hands came contact into his arms and your (color) irises shone brightly as the stars appeared and twinkled in delight as if to match your mood.
"..The divine one." He murmured, apparently, it was loud enough for Candace to hear despite the squeal of excitement coming from you— which sent the dark skinned woman into frenzy.
Not hearing what he said, you continued cheering to yourself, letting go of him and high fiving the general mahamatra in your mind, too afraid to actually do it, on the other hand, cyno and candace could only stare at you in shock and wonder.
i’ve reread duality of man so many times, it’s completely captured my brain and i’m literally obsessed with it….. i’m going insane (/pos) imagining how it would feel for childe to learn that he was wrong, he was wrong and if it weren’t for foul legacy, his god would be dead at his hands!! how horrible it would be to learn that the creator trusts foul legacy over him because of his own actions!! FUCK!!!
inversion of fate
a/n: you are so right. target audience. anon is referencing this post.
word count: 1.8k
-> warnings: childe, major spoilers for his lore, imposter au things, it/its pronouns for foul legacy because it’s childe’s perspective
childe doesn’t really see foul legacy as much more than an extension of himself, an extra tool he utilizes in the heat of battle, so to be shown that this ‘tool’ was correct? that his bloodlust had blinded him to the one thing that matters??? OUGH
foul legacy’s emotions sort of bleed into his due to the nature of their bond, so he can feel the genuine love that legacy feels for you and it drives him mad. he can tell it’s being genuine, that the claws swiping a strand of hair from your face are only moved by care, and it’s so irritating to him. he has to just sit there and simmer in the adoration from legacy, and he can’t do anything while you’re being so lovingly cared for by a creature of the abyss, only sit in a body he no longer has control over.
when foul legacy finally urges you to stand, he thinks it’s over. he tracks your direction and hears through abyssal ears, following your movement. he’s ready to go the moment that legacy gives up control.
maybe that’s why the moment never comes.
foul legacy closes its eye, spinning quickly to a seemingly random direction. it navigates solely by its own invisible senses, one’s childe’s brain isn’t wired to receive and decode, and he’s stunned into silence.
why is it going through so much trouble to protect you? surely it knows that even if childe isn’t the one, you’ll be caught eventually, right? it has to know that it can’t control his body forever (can it?) and that eventually he’ll get his revenge. it has to.
childe tries to keep himself oriented as best he can, if only to point others in the right direction, but legacy kept stopping to spin and confuse him. it only opened its eye once the sounds of the harbor reached its ears, and even then, childe found himself near the southern end of the harbor, near where the path split to lead up to the golden house.
he’d found you somewhere near luhua pool. he couldn’t tell whether to be impressed or annoyed that legacy managed to get him here so quickly.
standing on shaking legs, childe stumbled into the harbor. maybe it would be wise to get an agent to walk with him: he was always exhausted after a transformation, and this one was more mentally taxing than most.
in the back of his mind, he swears he can hear a satisfied rumble from the devouring deep.
it was rare that childe received a letter.
folders were common, crossing his desk to report on missions he didn’t order and announce things he didn’t ask about. orders themselves were common enough, ‘letters’ of notice in neat packages, a small box with a map and a card denoting what was to be done. he was familiar with both, as all harbingers were, but an actual letter?
childe spotted the bright blue paper from the moment he stepped into his office, slowly closing the door behind him. as he rounded his desk, he the the bright gold wax seal shimmered under the light, taunting him from the center of his desk. the room was eerily quiet, the creak from his chair bouncing off the walls and back at him. as he picked up the envelope, the textured paper sparking a memory, the seal suddenly felt a lot more daunting.
the seal of the fatui was also a familiar thing. it was stamped on papers and issued on uniforms, badges and reports embossed with the dark four-pointed star. he had a stamp of it himself, in one of his drawers, though he’d admittedly swapped the usual black ink for a blood red. all the harbingers tended to put their own spin onto their paperwork, usually for ease of filing or to show off. signora had the corners of the seal spiked into flames, licking across orange ink. dottore had his in a variety of shades of blue, wire forming the outer ring.
pantalone had the circles in the star changed to mora.
he flipped it over just to be sure, reading the shining golden scrawl, but the writing in the corner confirmed it was from pantalone, the characteristic cursive ‘regrator’ justifying the weight of the paper. he doubted there was much more than a single page inside; pantalone was always rather concise, even if a touch flowery in the way he did it.
with a sigh, childe turned the envelope back over and fit a nail under the wax, neatly separating it from the textured paper. he pulled the letter out and turned it to the side: only one page, though it felt like three.
a laugh slipped from him. it felt forced. in the back of his mind, foul legacy chittered.
‘shut up,’ he muttered, tossing the empty envelope on his desk.
‘you will not wish for my silence much longer.’
childe paused, a finger under the flap of the folded paper. ‘what does that mean?’
‘what do you think it does?’
he shook off the cryptic response—though it’s been months since he ran into you, it’s been in a mood ever since—and unfolded the letter, beginning to read.
he almost wished he didn’t.
there’s only two paragraphs on the page—succinct as always, he thought numbly—but the paper weighed as much as a mountain in his hands.
it was a letter updating him on the hunt for the imposter. a common source of news for him, who couldn’t personally take part in it due to his foul legacy, but this…
no matter how many times he rereads the cursive scrawl, it refuses to register. the expensive paper wrinkles around where his thumb is pressing into it, his grip tightening with every passing moment in an attempt to combat the shake beginning to set in. the same words glare at him, unchanging, shimmering off the page like an oasis of poison.
he feels legacy crawl out of the cave in his head that it has sealed itself in, finally coming forward into the light of reality that childe is washed in. the abyss stares, inspecting the harsh gleam of truth, the shine that pierces into childe’s eyes and makes them water, the one that doesn’t go away even if he closes them. legacy chitters, almost like a laugh, and the paper finally falls from childe’s hands.
‘we were wrong,’ the paper says.
you were wrong, his mind repeats.
legacy reads the paper, cooing sadly at the news that you’ve been missing ever since zhongli cornered you. you’d slipped away in his shock, and he could feel the way it wanted to chase after you. the barrier between their minds was always rather thin, and he can feel it press against it, the sadness and concern bleeding into him.
legacy pawed at his mind, urging him to let it take over and find you, and childe couldn’t even find humor in the fact that a creature of the abyss was whining at him.
it was his fault. his fault, his, if he had just listened to legacy and to the call in his own heart, if he had stopped and thought like he was told, if he had recognized the fact that legacy would never turn down a fight-
something like pride washed into his mind from legacy but it didn’t register, the overwhelming realization that he’d tried to kill his god driving all thoughts from his mind.
and he would have succeeded were if not for the abyss.
the abyss itself, the liquid poison that clung to his skin and made him dream of stars fallen from the sky, the small part of it that he had to permanently take on to survive, that had been more right than his own mind. the very place known for being bloodthirsty and ruthless, that never turned down a fight and was the first to draw blood, had been kind to you. he should have noticed.
he was wrong. how could he be?
his foul legacy chittered, an equal mix of taunting him and asking to find you.
‘give up,’ it cooed, a bitter edge of false affection around its words. ‘you’ve already done enough.’
he hated that it was right.
he hated that were it not for legacy he would have hurt you further. he hated that he had the gall to try and taunt you, you, the one he’d sworn to devote his life to after he escaped the abyss. you who gave him a form strong enough to handle the devouring deep, you who gave him the strength to stand up and keep on, and he repaid you by hunting you down, claws bared.
and he hated that he would never be able to find you on his own.
‘let me find my god.’
‘my god,’ he weakly replied, but bile quickly rose in his throat. were you? did he even have the privilege of calling himself your follower if the only words he spoke to you were threats? could he call himself faithful when he pressed on after the abyss itself cried for mercy?
‘are you the one they held close?’
childe was going to be sick.
he wasn’t, he wasn’t, he was so awful that you had to turn to the abyss for comfort, his hands were so stained that even the highest of the high recoiled, weapon drawn. you, his light, the one thing that he could always rely on, the sole constant in his life, and he turned his back on you when you needed it most. he had willingly thrown it all away, blindly following a fake that took advantage of his faith. even when all the signs asked him to stop—to think—he had pressed onward, so blinded that a creature of sea and stars could see what he could not.
‘let me find them.’
he stared at his desk, at the work he still had to do, at the letter proclaiming his failure, at the wide window to his left that spanned nearly the entire wall, more than large enough for even his foul legacy, and made a decision.
ajax gave up his body, bitter in the knowledge that the only time he could only see you would be through another’s eyes, and sick in the understanding that it was all his fault.
Heheehee would love to see venti post-imposter au like that one u did for zhongli...I love guilt >:)))) and thank u, u r amazing!!!!
unnamed poem, unnamed bard
a/n: wrote a whole poem for this. hope you enjoy <3
-> warnings: reader is dead. reader is a literal corpse and is described and referred to as such. major spoilers for mondstat archon quest, the most microscopic spoilers for liyue archon quest.
‘the creator is the highest god across every nation.’
seven sets of eyes stared at the body in front of them, at the arrow shot through it’s throat. several other wounds crossed the body, but none were as lethal as the first.
‘they have created everything, from the clouds-‘
angry gray rippled across the sky, thunder crackling in the distance. the storm had been brewing all day, and now the reason why was clear.
‘-to the air-‘
wind howled and cried, whipping through hair and pulling at clothes. one of the ties around venti’s braids had been ripped away, the hair beginning to unravel in the gale. still, even as nahida clutched at focalor’s cloak to stay standing—poor girl, she’d been trying to convince her—the clothes on the corpse were still.
‘-to the earth beneath our feet.’
blood seeped into the ground below, shimmering even in the dim light filtering through the clouds. the brick pattern below had shining blue for grout, blood tracing a spiderweb out.
‘they are only to be adored with the highest of veneration.’
thin hands shook around the handle of a bow, painted nails digging into the grip. barbatos’ eyes are wide, teal, unblinking gaze staring at the body as if it would magically come back to life. as if it would reach, pull out the arrow, as if it would sit up and chide him for behaving so rashly. it doesn’t.
‘after all…’
amber eyes search for purple, then red, black gloves tightening around the geo lord’s weapon. he was not without sin, having also participated in the chase—none were truly pure, none truly deserved any form of forgiveness except for maybe nahida.
‘it is they to which we owe our lives.’
seven chests heaved with a variety of emotions—adrenaline, contrition, horror—but an eighth was oddly regular. blank, lifeless eyes, matching the color of the ones on the corpse, curved with a smile. well done! they cheered, silent pride shining in the dim light.
‘they are stronger than steel.’
“who are you?”
the gritted voice of the pyro archon shattered the fragile silence.
“me?”
‘brighter than the sun.’
the false god put a hand to their chest, the fake shock on their face not hiding their glee. “well, i’m your god, aren’t i?”
‘with their iron-strong will,’
six hands tightened on weapons. one set let go of cloth, small stature still brimming with anger.
‘eons long work begun.’
new blood stained the dirt, red instead of divine blue. the fake’s body jerked, elemental reactions dancing across their skin as their body fell to the floor. superconduct burned out their eyes, overload locked up their lungs, quicken sped up the rate at which blood flowed from their veins. frozen pinned their still-twitching body to floor as they slowly died.
the gods almost wished that it had taken them longer to die. they certainly didn’t deserve a quick death.
‘they forged the valleys and plains.’
seven voices united by the covered body of their god, undivided by worldly squabbles. grudges and bitterness fell away, if only for now, seven heads bowed on seven sets of knees. even nahida, innocent as she was, had knelt alongside them here. seven prayers were lifted on seven tongues, some wavering, all weak. the scenery did little to distract when they knew they had slaughtered it’s maker.
‘mountains shaped, clouds retained.’
the burial was silent, only the sound of dirt against dirt breaking the solemn air. shimmering jade rose from the earth, obsidian lettering carving out their sin. seven were too weak to continue standing, seven sets of tears beginning to fall. seven asked for forgiveness.
‘as night turned to day turned to night again,’
none would receive it.
‘their last creation made, to their own world they ascend.’
grass and flowers were quick to grow over the unsettled dirt, risking quick uprooting for the chance to get closer. seven hearts burned. seven souls screamed.
drinks hit their tables with loud bangs. ‘who are you, bard?” a man called. ‘where have you heard such things?’
barbatos was the first to flee, unable to bear feeling their aura so long after their death. his wide wings flapped erratically, all of his usual grace lost as tears blurred his vision. the cuffs of his shirt clung to his skin, droplets of blue already staining to matter how hard he tried to scrub it out. it refused to even smudge.
he tucked his wings in and dove, barely even trying to slow his fall once he got closer to the ground, not feeling the pain in his feet. he stumbled once, twice, then collapsed at the foot of his own anemo statue.
the boy laughed, the teal on his nails matching the mirth in his eyes.
barbatos’ chest heaved, the air he commands abandoning him in his time of need. the peaceful breeze of windrise couldn’t hide the uneven beats of his heart, the cool stone behind him not soothing the burn on his face. he could see them, the golden chains of his crimes, already encircling his arms. the fingers that pulled the string stiffened with shining rings, too tight to be comfortable, his opposite palm already beginning to glow. some scrap of his consciousness mourned how it would affect his ability to play, to drink, to move, the unforgiving chains binding his actions.
summary: foul legacy only bends to childe’s will, he isn’t fully controlled by him.
a/n: foul legacy speaks in bold, childe speaks italicized. internal/mental speech is quoted ‘like this’ rather than simply italicized for the sake of childe, as tumblr does not have underline capabilities :/
word count: ~2.1k
-> warnings: spoilers for childe lore / liyue archon quest, childe is his own warning (and is frequently bloodthirsty and strange), violence and gore, it/it’s pronouns for foul legacy because it’s childe’s pov and also i said so, imposter sagau things. technically isn’t 100% canon compliant according to wikipedia.
-> lowercase intended!
taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky
childe stalked through the forest, the foliage tinted by foul legacy’s vision. this form wasn’t the best for stealth, but it would help him find you faster.
he could hear your heavy breathing from the corner you backed yourself into, and grinned.
“surrender is a valid option,” he purred, voice warped and distorted through the heavy mask. your breath hitched, and his smile only grew. he had you. all he had to do was reach, reach with the clawed hands of his abyssal form and drag you out of wherever you’d hidden and he’d earn his place at his gods side. to be the one to find and kill you was an honor, one he was not keen on giving up.
he could imagine it now. dragging you along with his claws sunk deep into your neck, whatever blood left in your body staining his hands. your corpse would fall, lifeless, at his god’s feet, and he’d be the one to reap the rewards of their love.
you would not escape. he would not leave empty-handed.
he couldn’t.
childe tried to reach for the bush you were hiding behind, but his arm wouldn’t move.
no, not his arm, he realized. it was disobeying.
‘what are you doing?’ he hissed into his mind, pushing with all his might. still, the arm of foul legacy wouldn’t move. it was strange; it had never disobeyed before, and aside from the initial period to get used to piloting a body, he’s never had any issues.
‘i cannot allow you to kill them.’
‘what? why? if you want to have a hand in it, i’ll let you have a while to-‘
‘no. they are not to die.’
his arms moved of their own will, moving aside the branches much slower than he would have.
‘i refuse to allow the death of the one who made me.’
what?
the leaves eventually reveal you, tucked in as small a space as you can manage, holding a broken-off spearhead. your clothes are tattered, leaves caught within the creases. your hand is shaking so badly childe doubts you could hurt anybody but yourself with it.
your mouth opens like you want to say something, but nothing comes out. a thrill runs down childe’s spine at the fact that they’ve scared you from words, but it’s quickly overrun by the concern coming from foul legacy.
wait… concern?
“your grace… how ruined you have become.”
your eyes flick between the pearl of its eye and the hand, likely trying to decide which is a better target, and childe wants to laugh. he wants to urge you to strike, to watch as you fruitlessly spend your energy bashing that spearhead into foul legacy’s armor, blunting the steel against it.
the devouring deep doesn’t let him speak.
“please… i’m sorry.”
normally, hearing somebody beg for their life would make childe’s day, week if they do it prettily enough, but this… some part of his heart, as beaten and rotted it is, hurts.
whatever sadness he feels quickly burns into rage. what right did foul legacy have over his emotions? making him pity this imposter, as if you weren’t fit to die the moment your treacherous tongue claimed you were somebody you weren’t.
“i know, i know.” legacy’s claw extends and you flinch, feet kicking up dirt as you press yourself further against whatever rock you’re against.
“stay away from me!”
foul legacy hums a low note, and childe wants to scream as his hand falls to the dirt. what power did you have over it? why didn’t it just take whatever it was it wanted from you?
‘why are you hesitating?’
‘you wouldn’t understand.’
the first sensible thing it’s said. he didn’t understand.
“it is alright. i am not the one you fear.“
“yes you are! i… i know you, childe.”
childe allowed himself a smile. no matter how much foul legacy pushed aside his commands, it would always have to deal with his reputation. the fact that he disrupted its plans just as it did his brought him a little joy from the situation.
“i am not him, leading light. please… do not be afraid.”
‘leading light’?
childe had heard many names and titles for the divine creator in his time, and knew that that one in particular was favored by abyssal creatures. he’d heard it shouted and screamed, people slaughtered in the name of the light that they claim leads them from the abyss. he even adopted it himself, at one point, for the first few years after he was freed from it himself. he’d killed with the title on his tongue, and ripped out others’ that dared to dirty it.
all of this to say that foul legacy was claiming you were the divine creator.
you. you.
you, who dared to walk with a face that wasn’t yours, to gaze with eyes that didn’t belong to you. you.
he could admit that he didn’t sense the aura of the creator—with a bitter, sour tongue, but admitted nonetheless—due to his time spent in the abyss. his soul was too rotten to resonate with theirs, only able to find solidarity in their violent retribution cast down on those that dared cross them. he acknowledged that he was beyond saving, that even the highest of the high could barely begin to fill the gaping maw of the abyss inside of him. he’d… not accepted, but come to terms with it.
but even he did not dare to call another by their name.
“you’re… you’re what?”
“i can hear him.” foul legacy’s hand extended once more, slower, gentler, with much more care than any other action childe had seen from it. “he is in my mind, but we are not the same. i can promise, while i am here, no harm will come to you.”
you didn’t trust it. good, as childe was starting to distrust foul legacy as well.
“you… you’re saying you’re…?” the spearhead in your hand lowered, some of the fear—regrettably—fading from your eyes. recognition flooded instead, and childe was confused as to how you found comfort in a creature of the abyss. he knew he had a reputation, one stained with violence and blood, and surely that would extend to it as well, right? foul legacy… it couldn’t be more trustworthy than him.
“i am his foul legacy. i am the devouring deep.”
its clawed hand finally reached yours, and you let it close around your wrist even as hesitation shone in your eyes. your lips parted, but whatever you had to say died before it spoke again. “please… can you find it in your heart to trust once more? if only for me, if only for a moment?”
childe tried once more to take over the form, and was again met with the stone of foul legacy’s will. he huffed; it shouldn’t be getting this close to you, and he shouldn’t have to watch as it did. it shouldn’t have even disobeyed in the first place.
“why don’t you hate me?”
foul legacy sighed, the sound warped and roughened by its mask. “this world- no, these people are fools. do not hold the mistakes of the many in your heart. they do not understand the weight of their actions. they are being pushed, puppetted by another.”
‘what are you talking about?’
‘hold your tongue.’
childe was in shock. first it went against him by taking over his actions, then it claimed you were the sacred creator, then told him to shut up?
you were sitting up, carefully daring to come closer, and childe beat at the boundaries of his will with all his strength. he couldn’t let this go on any longer. he could take being disobeyed, he could take his anger out on some innocents with its hand once it was tired enough to give him control, but for it to disrespect his god?
he could not- he would not let that go so easily.
childe pushed at his arm with all his might as foul legacy sat itself on the floor, tugging you closer. he sent the command to move at least a thousand times, begging his own hand to squeeze, to snap the bones in your wrist, to show any sign that he still had control in this body.
the most he got was a twitch of the ring finger.
he refused to allow foul legacy to take him over like this. he could not let it shatter his reputation and attack his beliefs like this. it could not say that you were his god, it could not say that it was in control, it could not say that childe was wrong. it should not hold you will claws that should kill, and you should not gaze so deeply into the pearl of a monster’s eye.
it was almost as if you could see him within it, your searching eyes piercing right into his. he hoped you could, that you could see how much he hated the situation he found himself in. how much he hated you, you for warping his foul legacy’s mind, you for making it think you were it’s god.
“how long do i have?”
“hm?”
“before he comes back.”
childe tried again to assert his presence. he failed.
you shifted closer to foul legacy, sitting against its side. part of childe wanted to laugh at you, at the fact that you dared to lean on a creature of the abyss. part of him wanted to sneer and call you pathetic for it.
the same part that knew it was fruitless even as he tried to follow through on it.
foul legacy put its arm around you, pulling you into its side. the glass of its eye bumped against the top of your head, words of reassurance buzzing in its head.
childe huffed to himself, feeling his anger start to bubble again. there was no reason for this behavior. there was no reason for foul legacy to try and influence him by bleeding their thoughts together, nor for it to subject him to this. even it should recognize the creator, even if by context clues from the people around it.
and if this was all a trick, childe could accept it. if foul legacy had whispered into his mind, told him that yes, it knew, it believed, then he could tolerate the attacks against his god. he could bite back his words and let legacy do what he did best: follow orders.
if this was a ploy, childe would be fine. but foul legacy’s claws never dug into your side, and the whispers it spoke were not of retribution, but of reverence. how he wished it would just obey, even if not his orders but theirs.
follow the orders of the true god, who was in their palace, waiting for their trusted followers to capture and kill you. sitting, waiting for your corpse to be tossed at their feet, waiting for their loyal followers to carry out their word. the true creator, their god, not you. not you, not any other fake that dared to imitate them, and not those that behaved as foul legacy did here, following the impersonators and claiming they were real.
foul legacy hissed in his mind. ‘still your traitorous tongue.’
‘i won’t! if you took a moment to even think-’
‘and if you paused to allow yourself to do the same, you would agree.’
he did think, he had plenty of time to think when foul legacy was- was almost cuddling you, the warp of its voice doing nothing to mask the affection within it. he can’t move, he cant take control, and it has the gall to say he should think? all he’s able to do is think! he could sit here for an eternity, listening to the quiet rumble of legacy’s voice, mulling over every action he has or could taken, and he still wouldn’t be convinced. he wouldn’t agree. all he would be is sore, tired, and angry.
and of all the ways he could spend his time… he could fight for eternity, he could hit at the boundary between their brains with mental fists that never tired, he could give himself a headache with how hard he tried to dig his hand into your side. he could plan out his revenge against foul legacy, he could start to draft the prayer of repentance he’d surely have to raise to his god, he could do so much and yet precious little.
Summary: Eddie comes to a realization after a drug deal with Chrissy. As he struggles with this, he wasn’t sure why you began to pull away from him, afraid that you can tell exactly how he feels.
Warnings: Eddie’s POV. Slowww burn friends to lovers. Yeah still lots of angst because I love making y’all suffer these two idiots.
Word count: 7.5k?
A/N: my biggest writing flaw is that I hate writing fast pace. When I have an idea, I make sure to focus on small details and I will drag it the fuck out because I read slow burn fanfics and books the size of my head since the age 12 . That being said, I didn’t end this the way i originally thought. So maybe, MAYBE, it’ll be 4 parts. I’m sorry to those who hate that haha. Forgive me <3 THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT LETS GO.
annaxmalina
yousharknotpass
areudirty
pixelskylines
andulkaphoto
gummygunk
2087
