wip, itās been awhile sorry guys Iām still alive, will hopefully be able to finish this soon but hereās a snippet of a fic inspired by iris and sinbads dynamic from that one Disney movie I think lol
and in every universe, it doesnāt end well for you.
why is that?
countless reincarnations of yourself, countless versions of you, an infinite amount of you, and yet not one of them has had a happy ending with this man.
youāve gotten close, so close, more times than you could even recall.
you had your happily ever after within the grasps of your fingertips, but it always managed to slip through your hands like sand.
he canāt help it. he doesnāt know why his devotion always turns violent. why he canāt help but snuff out your life because he canāt bare the thought of you leaving him in any other way.
death seems to follow you, and Xiao seems to haunt death for daring to try to collect you, yet every time he fails. In an endless cycle of being just an inch away from saving you only to have you ruthlessly taken by death's familiar arms.
it didnāt always end with him killing you. sometimes it ended in your tragic deathā a freak accident, a single fatal mistake, one miscalculated move and suddenly you were gone just like that. Right before his eyes over, and over, and over again. He had to watch as you were taken from him too soon.
You never lived to see your late 50s, or your 30s, or even your late 20s.
No, death was much too cruel for that.
You never lived long enough to see your hair grow grey, your beautiful skin wrinkle with the elegance that was seeped into your very soul, never got to see all those beautiful moments life had to offer that made you stand back and think about how grateful you were to be alive.
No, none of that. Because you were quickly taken before the thought could even cross your mortal mind.
But not Xiaoās. No, never his. Every precaution he could possibly take, he grabbed.
And every time it was something different than the last. It really was some cruel, twisted joke. How hard he tried to keep you alive, only to become sick with obsession, deranged with trying to keep you alive that at some point, heād started to become the one to kill you himself.
At least, in this way, some sick twisted way, he knew you felt no pain. That you died in hands that cradled you, adored you, loved every ounce of your existence. No matter how many times he had to snuff it out.
At least youād die to someone who loved you enough to strip you down to the very bone, consume you entirely, and still remember you fondly.
He loved you through countless lifetimes, and another million he knew heād have to watch you suffer in. In the way youād put down an animal for
the sake of ending its suffering, heād do the same to you. Snuff you out with the very hands that cradled your face between his calloused fingers so gently. The ones that carried you so closely to his chest and tucked you into bed.
The very ones that cracked your ribs open one by one to hold your heart closely to his own so you knew just how much he truly loved you.
Hi I don't know if anyone has already said it so I apologize for being repetitive but I was already into cannibalism (conceptually in fiction ofc) and Xiao is one of my favorite characters of all time so let's just say you have my FULL undivided attention thank you, keep being yourself, have a wonderful day,
this absolutely MADE my day thank you so much!! I love fictional cannibalism sm it feels like the only proper way to express how much one can truly yearn and love in the most utterly raw way possible and itās beautiful! Iām so glad you like my fics! New ones coming soon!
okay, since you were so enthusiastic about my random yapping, you're now stuck with me forever (I'm the one who complained about your writing fucking with me and then asked for you to write more lol)
I tend to be the :] anon to the people I annoy so expect to see this stupid smile a lot more. you can never get rid of me now that you've given me attention
(I am going to write a Xiao drabble eventually I keep my promises. and yes I will tag you I want your opinion on it when I get around to it)
ā your new (least) favourite anon :]
Luckily for you and all the other cannibal Xiao enjoyers Iām working on something right now!! Itās still a wip but Iāll try and finish it when Iām not burnt out from life stuff lol
Thank you again! I look forward to ur work!! :) always feel free to give some prompts, it helps me lol
I just scrolled all the way back to your February posts and now I don't know what to do. just two hours of unfiltered Cannibalismā¢
like yes there is an ache behind my rib cage for something that will never be there
why did you bring it to my attention now it's WORSE
(write more. pls. xiao's had me in a chokehold for well over a year and you're the first person to characterize him in a way I agree with)
(should I write my own stupid drabble I wonder)
(would you want me to tag you if I did)
YES!! I would def LOVE to be tagged if you did! Sorry I just got to be able to respond to this haha. And yes Iām finally working on being able to write more now that Iām able to actually have time to think and be creative again! Thank you for the ask :)
burns from the twisted spark youāve lit inside him. burning from the sins he committed, condemning him for letting your hands roam his body.
he can feel himself burning.
every ounce of discipline, of control, of any form of righteousness melted and slipped through his fingers like the dust in the sand when it came to you. instead, replaced by the warmth of your flesh. flesh so soft, so fragile, so humanā something never meant to be touched by Xiao.
the light indents of his nails on your hips make him wince with guilt, he rots anything he touches. he knows this. and yet, for some reason, he can't seem to stop himself. can't control himself. he pushes past the fire eating him alive just to kiss you once more. and again, and again, and again.
he could devour you. this sacrilegious dance of yours that he failed to put a stop to, it will consume him. and, in turn, he will consume you. he tasted bitter, wicked even. this unholy man above you. and even then, he still wilted like a flower caught in the breeze when you lifted your hand to his cheek, tracing his cheekbones down to his jaw, softly pressing on his bottom lip.
he knew this was wrong. immoral. blasphemous even. it was much too late for him. he already accepted that he'd burn for the way he touched you. destined to be turned to ash for the way his tongue trailed every inch of your skin as though he'd been starved for centuries. a desperate, ungodly, mess of a man; that would burn for you a hundred times over just to do this again.
when you were told your new husband would be Xiao, your first thought was, ābut heās so... serious.ā
and you were right. if stoicism took its place in a man, he would be the very embodiment of cold, brooding, and serious.
long before Liyue was self-sufficient on its own to protect itself, the citizens would offer things to the last standing yaksha, in hopes heād continue to give them his protection. Xiao found it bothersome in all honesty, misplaced ignorance at best.
he only got more annoyed when they offered you up as his bride. he usually didnāt have time to give the mortals too much thought, much less any emotion beyond the occasional annoyance, but this? had they lost their minds?
he was so outraged he went right to Rex Lapis himself and demanded he set the citizens of Liyue straight. however, much to Xiaoās dismay, it seemed Morax found the situation amusing; educational even. A companion couldnāt hurt Xiao. Xiao argued that he could hurt you, though. Without even meaning to. Karmic debt has a way of creeping to those he loved.
Morax waved him off, some oddly knowing twinkle in his eye. As if he knew you just happened to be a one in a million chance of a soul so good hearted youād be unaffected by Xiaoās karmic debt. Instead, your presence would soothe him.
Nonetheless, after all was said and done, and a reluctant agreement was made, you were set to be his sacrificial bride. Your peers scared you with stories of his conquests, warning you that heād devour your dreams in your sleep, keep you hidden away, or worse.
Youād been raised for this. Not a strand out of place. Poised. Graceful. A smile that never faltered no matter how sore your cheeks got. Everything a wife should be. Xiao didnāt know what to make of you, nor did you know what to make of him. You looked too fragile to be around him. He didnāt like it.
You disliked the quiet. Hated it, even. And Xiao brought nothing but an uncomfortable, heavy, silence. Itās not as though he had been opposed to speaking with you, he just.. didnāt know how.
āThere isnāt much time for idle chatter on the battlefield.ā
Ah, there it was.
What was that?
A jest to your mumbling complaints about how quiet he was, perhaps?
The first time he let something other than coldness slip.
A hint of sarcasm, dry humor. You almost didnāt believe your own ears.
But then he heard it, your burst of giggles bubbling from your lips.
Strange.
How odd. He never liked strangeness before.
Living with Xiao was, a challenge, to say the least.
Always coming home at odd hours of the night, the unmistakable scent of blood and dirt on his clothes, the ignorance to human living... it was difficult to adjust to, but you made do.
He acted like a cat getting a bath the first time you made him get in the tub. He refused to undress in front of you, to which you playfully remarked that he was your husband, you were going to see him naked eventually. He kicked you out of the bathroom.
In all fairness, he did willingly (begrudgingly) get in the bath, he was far more used to rivers and springs, but he concluded that this wasnāt the worst thing in the world.
The feeling of your fingers running whatever it was that you lathered your hands with through his scalp was... nice. This was nice.
And so began your taming of your wild animal of a husband.
First step? Training.
If he came home with blood on his clothes? He had to change and set aside his dirty clothes to be washed.
Shoes? Off at the door.
Spears, gear, and everything in between? Also left at the door.
You couldnāt do much about his odd hours, itās not like he needed sleep anyways, but you made him promise to not wake you up if he left or came home at odd hours of the night.
Second step? Acts of Service.
You of course had to educate him on human courtship. He sounded.. disgruntled at first. Thatās the best way you could describe it. More confused than anything truly. But if itās what you wanted, then heād do it.
So, if he brought you home flowers? Youād clean his spear for him.
If he tried a new dish you made? Youād make him extra almond tofu.
If he accompanied you to the market? Youād later run him a bath and run your hands through his hair while he (somewhat) relaxed.
You soon learned that your husband was always on alert. There was never a moment he was truly calm or relaxed. You sought to change that. Itās the least you could do for the poor soul anyways.
Getting close to you made him nervous, so you didnāt initiate anything; other than when youād massage his head or fix up his clothes before he left if you managed to catch him. But, eventually, he began to feel more comfortable being near you. He no longer looked as stiff as a wooden soldier, he seemed like he could finally breathe around you. You took that as a win.
After some time, heād eventually feel comfortable enough to sit on the bed with you, watching you fall asleep besides him while he watched over you. It was a little odd, but so was he, and you learned to accept him for it anyways. In the entire year you two had been married, heād never gotten into bed with you, not to sleep, not to sit, heād usually just sit across the room, watching or tidying up his area.
Ah, yes. Youād dedicated an area in your room for his weapons and gear. You got tired of seeing it at the front door, and he didnāt like to be too far away from them, so you made him his own area you didnāt touch. He appreciated that. He needed his own space sometimes, not that he didnāt grow fond of your presence, he just preferred to have you and his āworkā separated.
Speaking of which, he was not allowed to bring anything from his patrols back home. There happened to be an unfortunate mishap in the beginning of him learning courtship, and he brought back a wild boar for dinner. Not realizing that mortals didnāt have sharp fangs to tear through meat like that, or that one human couldnāt possibly finish that in a single night. Luckily heād only hogtied it when he brought it home, so you ordered him to set it free. Confused, reluctant, and a little frustrated, he did as you said.
Third step? Gratitude.
You always made sure to thank him when he went out of his way to do something for you. Be it carrying a heavy load of items for you, helping you peel food, or carrying around your bags when you got tired at the market, you made sure all his efforts never went unnoticed.
You found he was (silently) very receptive to verbal praise. You found that bit about him cute.
You always asked if there was something you could do in return for him, but he always gave you the same answer,
āThere is nothing I wish from you.ā
So serious, you hummed. A click of your tongue ringing through the air. Sometimes his short answers annoyed you. You always thought he was too serious for his own good, you found yourself wishing he would lighten up a little, even if it was forced.
Next step, Affection.
That was something you did not expect from him. It still disappointed you, even if you knew not to expect it from him. You knew better. Yet still youād look at him and wonder if the thought of intimacy had ever crossed his mind the way it did yours.
Youāre human, after all. Humans crave affection, attention, connection.
Xiao didnāt know how to do that.
He wanted to; to ease the craving you felt for it, prevent you from seeking solace elsewhere... but when he went to reach for you, he scared himself.
He could see it in your eyes, the desire for the slightest bit of affection. Archons, did you have a way of making him nervous.
You try not to let it show. How touch starved youāve grown, but when you visit friends or family you revel in their warmth, in that irreplaceable feeling of skin-to-skin contact and clung to them like itās the last time youād ever feel this warmth again. It only made the rumors worse, made everyone worry about you more. You assured them everything was fine, that you just missed them. They didn't buy it.
If verbal intimacy could be physically measured then youād have filled a room with it the way you beckon Xiao by pet names, praises here and there, to which he hated to admit he enjoyed it. āDear, could you please pass me that?ā You hummed, fixing up your appearance in your vanity. Too busy fixing whatever you thought was wrong with your hair to realize how he ached and yearned when he looked at you, admired you.
And so, it begins.
He starts initiating hand contact. In a very indirect way in the beginning. Just a hand brushing against yours in passing, āaccidentallyā misplacing his hand over yours, sneakily tracing the back of your knuckles with his index finger when he thought you wouldnāt notice. His touch was so light you almost didnāt. Almost. But the feeling of those cold, calloused hands were unmistakably his.
The feeling of your warm palm settling against his, his cold fingers interlocking gently with yours, and for a single, fleeting moment, he could've sworn his soul felt lighter.
A/N:
sorry ive been gone i hate being an adult but ive been missing my husband </3
Xiao is a recluse though. Powering through his pain- pushing away those who care.
He knows he can hurt them- has hurt them.
Despite this, Xiao still gives you gifts. That's his love language. Xiao finds you things- not pretty things, but things that he thinks you would find useful on your journey.
Xiao loves you, he really does. Platonic or romantic, it doesn't really matter. In the end, Xiao knows he would die for you.
Xiao simultaneously puts you on a pedestal and treats you like youāre made of glass, because, well, youāre mortal. you donāt know how easy it is to have life snuffed out from under you.
he isnāt violent with you. no, never you. youāre too fragile, even if he ever gets upset with you, which is rarely.
he never blames you for his frustrations however. no, no.
those lingering eyes that stayed on your figure a bit too long at the market? well lustful eyes shouldnāt have the privilege to lay even a single glance on you.
stray hands youāve never pushed away? youāre obviously too afraid to defend yourself, thatās why heās here. always watching, always ready to fend off disgusting vermin around you.
even your friends who occupy too much of your time- well they simply need to leave you alone. youāre just too nice to tell them to leave, so heāll take care of it for you. anything for you.
heāll excuse any of your actions, no matter how sinister they may be.
should you ever happen to murder another? obviously it was self defense. you didnāt mean too. quickly, wash yourself off. heāll crush the skull into unrecognizable pieces and dispose of it among the monsters heās slain.
in the beginning of course, heād never let you see the violent side of him, at least heād try not to let you see it often or at all if possible.
but overtime, as more and more obstacles just keep getting in the way, he becomes more agitated, more frustrated, more impulsive until heās heaving over the mess of a corpse heās left in a mangled mess on the ground when he hears somethingā
āxiaoā?ā
the horror and fear in your eyes. you looked like your legs were about to give out any second and you just couldnāt stop shaking. he wanted to reach out to you, comfort you, assure you that everything was okay and he was only exterminating pests that plagued youā but you flinched the moment he locked eyes with you.
but he knew that one day you would understand. one day you would thank him, embrace him and praise him for all the work heās done to keep you safe. yeah, so you should get used to this.
heās doing this for you, he reminds you. every rib cracked, every skull impaled, every life picked off one by one, itās all for you. you know that right? that this is his way of showing his devotion to you?
just thinking of Xiao easily throwing you over his shoulder just like itās nothing, and you still being able to stand up and leave cause heās short </3
your beauty didnāt belong to you, it belonged to the passing men who traded silver and gold for your time and services.
but Xiao wasnāt content with that. no, it didnāt belong to you either, but to him. obviously you couldnāt be trusted with it if you so frivolously flashed that pretty face of yours to whichever client showed up that night, no. Xiao knew how to keep you safe.
and shouldnāt he be rewarded for keeping that beautifully terrified face of yours safe from the hands of other disgusting, vile men? he deserved it, right? you just didnāt know how cruel your own kind could be to each other. but Xiao knew. heād seen it first hand, what unruly men do to beautiful things like you.
and yeah, he knew he wasnāt any better than them in some sense; but at least he only had eyes for you. cold, unbearably suffocating eyes that dug their way into the deepest pits of your soul. eyes to watch your every move, every breath, eyes to watch you sleep. and he would, because your beauty belonged to him, and him alone.
heavens forbid you ever try to run away, because if he couldnāt keep your beauty for himself then no one, not even you, would be able to keep it either.
blakekathryn
germansingergirl
prguitarman
romaincrisis
janainaart
vaporwave
turnnoffyourmind
dailybridgerton
