#and another about non-suicidal self harm | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shoccolatine · 4 months

Note

Do you feel comfortable with writing stuff about mental health issues. Like, MC being depressed due to a mission going wrong or something similar and hiding it from Zayne while they spiral deeper into it until he catches them doing something bad - like idk, self-harm, looking up suicide methods, something like that. Gender neutral reader would be great <3

If you don't want to write this for any reason, feel free to ignore my ask :)

mission failure.

⚘pairing: zayne x gn!reader

⚘summary: after one too many failed missions, you reach a breaking point. zayne comes to your aid. ⚘tags: sfw, 2nd person POV, gender neutral reader, mental health issues, self-esteem issues, depression, suicidal thoughts, non-descriptive/implied self-harm, mild descriptions of morbid thoughts, hurt/comfort, angst ⚘word count: 2k ⚘a/n: thank you so much for your request, i hope i did it justice! this was a very interesting write and i enjoyed it a lot. i tried to be as delicate and vague with the s/h descriptions as i could so as not to trigger anyone, but this fic still deals with sensitive content so please be safe and take care of yourself! much love 💜

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This was it. You just couldn’t do anything right.

Another hunting mission had gone poorly. The third in a row, now. They do say all good things come in threes, but could the same be said of misfortune? It certainly seemed so. The first two mission failures had been played off as flukes, but this time…

You made the long trek back to Headquarters with the weight of a tail dragging between your legs, bearing a few cuts and bruises to show for it. Beside you was Tara, who was not quite so worse for wear and, although disappointed, didn’t quite seem to share the same sentiment as you. After all, she hadn’t been the one to let the Wanderer get away. Again.

“Hey, don’t look so down!” she says, in her usual cheerful tone. She pats your arm in an attempt to be comforting. “Can’t win ‘em all, right?”

You give her a look and a frown. “I mean, we should, shouldn’t we? It’s our job, after all.”

“No way! Those Wanderers were tough! I’m amazed we got as far into the Zone as we did!”

But we lost our main target, you thought, yet you held your tongue. There was no changing Tara’s mind once she was set on something. This mission was above her level, anyway, but with every other Hunter either stationed elsewhere or taking a well-deserved break, and Xavier being unreachable as usual, all you had was each other. It had been up to you, as the higher level Hunter, to uphold the team morale and guide you both through a successful mission. But lately, you just kept falling short. Even the most straightforward of missions went awry. Just what was happening?

The entrance doors slid closed behind you as you and Tara headed upstairs for the debrief. Your heart pounded with every step you took. Three failures in a row… Jenna was going to fire you for sure. She might as well do it now, to make space for a newer, better Hunter to take your place and finish your missions properly.

Instead, what came of your debrief was the offering of a week-long break. "Time off to clear your head and refresh," Jenna had said with hard concern, but it might as well have been an arrow to the chest. Just fire me now and get it over with, you thought. Stop wasting everyone’s time and resources and find someone else.

You didn’t need a break. You just needed to be better.

Getting better, however, came with a steep demand you placed upon yourself like a vase upon a pedestal, delicate and teetering. If Jenna wanted to give you another chance, then you would use this week to return to peak performance. You would train, and train, and train, until you were sure to succeed at every mission she threw at you. It was flawless. You’d be back at it in no time.

But as soon as you got off the train and back into your apartment, all you wanted to do was sleep.

And sleep you did. You slept until you couldn’t think of those missions anymore, and when the thoughts inevitably returned, you slept again.

“You’re not eating enough,” Zayne said during your following check-up later that week. He stated it so matter-of-factly, like he did with any other diagnosis, never looking up from his computer as he typed something. You never knew exactly what. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a break right now?”

“How do you know that?”

“Word gets around,” he said, the beginnings of a smile etched on his face. You didn't like the idea of people knowing things like that so easily. People sure do like to talk... Zayne's hazel eyes lifted from the screen and over at you. “You need to take better care of yourself. Now is as good a time as any to catch up on your body’s needs.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped. Sometimes Zayne needed to mind his own business. Wait, but he was your doctor, and one of your closest friends… What was the matter with you? You really needed to go back to bed and stop being such a nuisance.

Maybe it’d be better if you got out of his life, too.

You met his questioning expression and the heat of your response drained out of your face. At that, you decided you didn’t want to wait for a reply. Whatever he wanted to say to you with that curious expression of his, you didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t deserve to hear it. You quickly left his office and never looked back. If he called your name as the door to his office slid closed behind you, it went unheard.

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5 missed calls.

Your phone screen blares the message in your face, blinding against the darkness of your room and blurry against the tears that threatened to fall, that had already fallen, that fell and dried and fell again. Your fingers itch to reply, to call him back or send him a text, but what’s the point? He doesn’t really care. He’s probably just going to scold you for leaving your appointment halfway and being childish and not following doctor’s orders and being rude to him.

Not only have you messed up your job, you’re messing up your relationships now, too. When will you ever stop? Can’t it ever stop?

Your phone buzzes and lights up in your fingers as your ringtone sings into your sheets once more. It’s him again. Doesn’t he know when to quit? You watch his name as it waits idly on your screen. It gets tired of waiting, as it always does, and finally disappears. You sigh as another hot tear slips down your cheek.

Something new happens this time.

1 new voicemail, your phone screen reads. You start to slide the notification away, but against your better judgment, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you give in, tap the notification, and listen.

The line is silent for a moment, and part of you hopes he gave up and left you nothing.

Finally, after what sounds like a throat clearing, he speaks.

“Hey, it’s me,” Zayne’s voice comes through the speaker. It’s got that usual muffled crackly phonecall texture laid onto it, but it sounds enough like him that it feels like he’s right there with you, underneath the blankets. “Are you alright? …Listen. Whatever it was I said, I didn’t mean it. You know that. I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner, but you left so suddenly. Call me when you’re able?”

The silence creeps in again, and you can almost hear him consider saying something more, can almost see his expression as his thoughts thunder in his brain but refuse to leave his lips, but then there’s a click, and the call ends. The robotic voicemail message drones monotonously about saving the message, and halfway through, you hang up, too.

The back of your throat clenches and burns, and you barely fight back a sob as it wrenches itself out of you. Zayne was worried about you. You made him worry. You thought he was mad, you wanted him to be mad, but he’s not. He cares about you. Why…?

You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, as if you could push back the sting of tears that rush, hot and salty, from your bloodshot eyes. It hurts, and you start to see flashes of bright white stars under your eyelids, but it’s better than succumbing to the pain in your chest. Your heart shares a galaxy with the stars in your vision, a dying star that’s fizzling out, or maybe even being consumed by the void of a black hole. How morbidly comforting. You suddenly want to rip it out.

You wonder, just how difficult would it be to separate the Aether Core from your still-beating flesh…?

You try to shake the thoughts from your mind but they hold fast. Throwing the blankets off of your body, you leave your room hobbling like a zombie, make a beeline for the kitchen, and pull open a drawer.

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It’s late at night when there’s a knock at your door. A slight rap of the knuckles. A sharp one, two. Once, then twice, and on the third knock there’s another sound, too. A rattling jingle. And it’s times like these when you curse yourself for giving Zayne the extra key to your apartment.

He calls out your name as he steps in. You barely hear him. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s far away, or speaking quietly, or if you’re just that far gone into your own thoughts that everything else around you is muted.

He might have called only once, or a dozen times, by the time he reaches your room and spots your hunched figure on your bed. He says your name again, and this time you do hear him.

You meet his gaze, steeled with concern, and immediately regret it.

He sees you, really sees you, and all at once your façade crumbles once more. He approaches the edge of your bed, and you turn your eyes anywhere but at him as you brace yourself for impact.

“What are you doing?” he asks, but he already knows the answer.

Zayne grabs your wrist. Yet, his touch is gentle—firm enough to grip you, but soft enough that you could pull away if you wanted. You don't. You’re far too tired to fight anymore. You continue to stare at the floor with teary eyes, but there is resignation hanging heavy on your shoulders, like a wet blanket. Zayne takes your silent compliance as an okay to pull you along with him down the hallway of your dimly lit apartment and into the bathroom.

He sits you down on the toilet. The light clack of the lid hitting the porcelain beneath from your sudden weight seemed to jolt you awake a bit; your eyes refocus and follow his movements as he shuffles through the medicine cabinet. He pulls out a few things and then returns to tend to his patient.

"Hand. Here," he says as he holds out his own. You offer yours, and he meets you halfway. He always does. He’s as meticulous and calm as always as he cleans, disinfects, and wraps your wounds, ever the doctor, but there’s a certain softness in his motions that you’re sure he reserves for only his most cherished patients.

Only for you.

The thought rolls a warm wave over you, the once wet blanket that had been dragging you down now fresh out of the laundry and wrapped carefully around you, cozy and hot and certain. There’s still a bit of damp spots here and there, but those will also dry in time. And you know Zayne will still be here when that time comes.

Your thoughts are broken when long fingers drag against your cheek, wiping away yet more damp spots and fanning through your shining lashes.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” Zayne says, repeating his words from earlier that day. Was that really only today? This day was lasting a lifetime. As with before, his tone holds no ice. You regret snapping at him when he was only trying to help. He must feel your tension, because he puffs a breath out through his nose just then, and the warm air tickles the hairs on your forehead. He places a kiss there, the barest brush of his lips on your skin. He pushes your hair back with long warm fingers, tucking a strand behind your ear. “If you need help with that, I’m here. Always. You need only ask.”

Later still and he’s tucking you into bed and giving your forehead another gentle kiss, making you feel like a kid again. He’s surprisingly good at that. You don't know how he does it.

Zayne follows you under the covers, and leaves you an open invitation to snuggle against him, if you wish. You gratefully accept, tucking your head under his chin as he envelops you. He’s very careful not to apply pressure to your bandaged skin.

Right before you fall asleep, he whispers a promise of breakfast tomorrow, and dinner, and whatever else comes next. A promise of staying, no matter what.

#soft zayne is best zayne #change my mind (you won't)#love and deepspace #zayne #zayne x reader #zayne lads #l&ds #l&ds x reader #fics

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pin-k-ink · 2 months

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Chrollo! There isn’t enough dark content about him. I want to see how Chrollo is, compared to Yandere Chrollo. I love both, but we don’t get enough dark content of Chrollo.

Chrollo is seen as manipulative, and cold. Considering he’s a mass murder, and his empathy is nonexistent to people outside of the phantom troupe. Though, he’s able to act like a gentleman, and a curious man who seems sweet. He definitely isn’t stable, but catching his attention would be terrifying. He collects what he’s interested in. Being in a relationship with him would be interesting, but complicated.

entropy // chrollo lucilfer

tw ⇢ emotional abuse/manipulation, psychological trauma, toxic relationship, mention of self-harm, suicide attempt, dub-con, non-consensual/coercion, stockholm syndrome(?), mention of violence and criminal activities, power play, some unspecified mental health issues, rough sex, cunnilingus, begging, idk kinda rushed ending, narrator’s pov

wc ⇢ 7.1k

a/n: i really liked this idea, anon, so i present you with 7k words of chrollo brainrot. i really tried not to make chrollo a cliche, run-of-the-mill yandere but im not sure i did a good job. its also my first time using y/n and i hated it

The dim lights of the crowded bar cast an amber glow across the room, the air thick with the hum of conversation and clinking glasses. Perched on a stool at the far end of the bar, I nursed my whiskey, the smooth glass cool against my palm, the rich amber liquid swirling hypnotically as I lifted it to my lips. The first sip burned pleasantly down my throat, warming me from within as my eyes scanned the crowd out of habit, taking in the sea of unfamiliar faces.

That's when I saw him.

He moved with a fluid grace that stood out amidst the tipsy stumbles and raucous laughter of the other patrons. Dark hair fell across his face in an artful sweep as he leaned in close to whisper something to the bartender, who nodded knowingly and slid a drink across the polished wood, the crystal tumbler gleaming under the soft light. As if sensing the weight of my gaze, he turned slowly, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat, my fingers tightening reflexively around my glass.

A polite smile curved his lips as he approached with measured steps, sliding onto the stool next to mine with a nod of acknowledgment. "Good evening," he said, his voice smooth and cultured, with a faint lilt of an accent I couldn't quite place. "I hope you'll forgive my forwardness, but I couldn't help noticing you from across the room."

I felt a flush creep up my neck at his directness, a heat blooming under my skin that had little to do with the whiskey. But I maintained my composure, lifting one eyebrow in a practiced arch. "Is that so?" I asked, taking another sip of my drink, letting the smoky flavor linger on my tongue. My heart fluttered in my chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness at the attention from this intriguing stranger.

"Indeed. It's rare to find someone so comfortable in their own solitude. It speaks to a certain strength of character." His eyes held mine, dark and fathomless, seeming to search for something beneath the surface, beneath the mask of cool indifference I wore like armor.

I smiled slightly, intrigued by his observation, by the way he seemed to see beyond the carefully constructed facade. "And what would you know about my character?"

"Very little, I admit. But I'd like to learn more, if you're willing." He extended a hand, long fingers elegant and strong. "Chrollo Lucilfer, at your service."

"Y/N," I replied, placing my hand in his. His grip was firm, his skin cool and smooth against my own. A shiver raced down my spine at the contact, a spark of something electric and unfamiliar. I found myself drawn to his enigmatic aura, the hint of danger that lurked beneath his charming exterior.

As the evening wore on, Chrollo and I fell into easy conversation, trading stories and opinions over drinks, our knees brushing under the bar in a way that felt both accidental and deliberate. He was articulate and well-read, with a keen insight that made me feel like he could see straight into my soul, past the walls I'd so carefully constructed. There was a magnetism to him, a pull that I couldn't resist, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. I felt a connection growing between us, a sense of understanding and shared secrets that left me both thrilled and unnerved.

We began seeing each other regularly after that night, meeting for dinner at quiet candlelit restaurants or for coffee in cozy bookshops, the rich scent of roasted beans and old pages enveloping us as we talked for hours. Chrollo was always the perfect gentleman, holding doors and pulling out chairs, his manners impeccable, his attentiveness unwavering. But there were moments, fleeting glimpses, where something else seemed to flicker beneath the surface, a darkness that both thrilled and unsettled me. I found myself drawn to that darkness, to the mystery that surrounded him, even as a part of me whispered warnings in the back of my mind.

One evening, we were walking through the city, the pavement damp with recent rain, the neon signs reflecting in puddles at our feet. A man stumbled out of an alleyway, clearly drunk and disoriented, his clothes rumpled and stained. He lurched towards us, mumbling incoherently, his breath sour with the stench of alcohol. I tensed, expecting Chrollo to step in and help, to offer the man a steadying hand or a kind word. Instead, he sidestepped the man neatly, his movements fluid and precise, not even sparing him a glance. There was a coldness to the action, a calculated indifference that left me feeling chilled despite the warm summer air. A flicker of unease stirred in my gut, a sense that there was more to Chrollo than met the eye, but I pushed it aside, not wanting to shatter the illusion of the perfect romance.

Another time, we were at a restaurant, a trendy spot with exposed brick walls and industrial light fixtures. The hum of conversation and the clink of silverware against plates filled the air, a pleasant buzz of activity. A commotion broke out at a nearby table, a woman's voice rising in pitch as she gestured wildly at her companion, her face flushed with anger. Chrollo watched the scene unfold with a detached sort of interest, like a scientist observing a particularly fascinating specimen. When I expressed concern, my brow furrowed with worry, he simply shrugged, the movement languid and unconcerned.

"Some people thrive on drama," he said, his tone indifferent, almost bored. "It's best not to get involved."

I tried to brush off the nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right, telling myself that no one was perfect, that everyone had their flaws and quirks. Chrollo was attentive and affectionate, showering me with gifts and attention, his touch always gentle, always reverent. It was easy to get lost in the romance of it all, in the heady rush of new love. But even as I surrendered to the warmth of his embrace, to the tender caress of his lips on my skin, a part of me remained wary, a tiny voice whispering doubts in the back of my mind.

But the doubts continued to gather at the edges of my mind, like storm clouds on the horizon, dark and ominous. There were inconsistencies in the stories he told, small details that didn't quite add up, pieces that didn't fit into the puzzle of his past. He was evasive about his work, about his family and his childhood, always changing the subject with a charming smile and a clever turn of phrase when I pressed for more. I tried to ignore the growing sense of unease, the feeling that I was only seeing a carefully crafted facade, a mask that hid the true nature of the man I was falling for.

It all came to a head one night when we were out for a walk, the city streets quiet and still around us. A police car raced by, sirens blaring, red and blue lights flashing against the buildings. Chrollo tensed, his body going rigid beside me, his eyes tracking the vehicle with a sharpness that made me pause, my heart skipping a beat in my chest. There was something in his reaction, a hint of fear or guilt that I had never seen before, and it sent a chill down my spine.

"What is it?" I asked, searching his face for clues, for some hint of the thoughts swirling behind those dark eyes.

He relaxed just as quickly, his expression smoothing into a mask of calm, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Nothing, just lost in thought for a moment."

But I saw it then, in that brief unguarded instant. The hairline fracture in his facade, the glimpse of something raw and real beneath the polished surface. The realization hit me like a freight train, stealing the breath from my lungs - I didn't really know the man I was falling for at all. He was a mystery, a puzzle with missing pieces, and I had no idea what secrets he was hiding behind that charming smile and those fathomless eyes. Fear and doubt coiled in my gut, a sickening sense of dread that I couldn't shake, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that everything was fine.

The doubt became an itch I couldn't scratch, a constant presence at the back of my mind. I found myself watching Chrollo more closely, looking for clues, for any sign that might confirm my growing suspicions. He was as attentive and affectionate as ever, his touch gentle, his words sweet. But there was a guardedness to him now, a sense that he was always holding something back, always keeping a part of himself locked away. It was like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands, always slipping through my fingers just when I thought I had a grasp on the truth.

One evening, we were at his apartment, curled up on the plush leather couch with a movie playing on the large flatscreen TV. The room was dimly lit, the flickering light from the screen casting shadows on the walls. Chrollo's phone buzzed with an incoming message, the screen lighting up on the coffee table. He glanced at it, his expression hardening for a split second, his jaw clenching almost imperceptibly before he smoothed it away, reaching for the device with a casual hand. My heart raced in my chest, a sense of foreboding washing over me as I watched him, a part of me desperately wanting to believe that it was nothing, that I was overreacting.

"Everything okay?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Just work," he replied, his thumb swiping across the screen, his eyes scanning the message quickly before he slipped the phone into his pocket. "Nothing to worry about."

But there was a tightness to his smile, a strain around his eyes that belied his easy words. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he wasn't telling me, some secret he was keeping locked away. The doubts gnawed at me, a constant ache in my chest that I couldn't ignore, no matter how much I wanted to lose myself in the fantasy of our perfect love.

As the weeks passed, the distance between us grew, an invisible chasm widening with each passing day. Chrollo would disappear for hours at a time, offering vague explanations about meetings or errands, his tone carefully neutral. He was increasingly evasive about his activities, changing the subject with a practiced ease or deflecting my questions with a charming smile and a clever quip. I felt like I was losing him, like the man I had fallen for was slipping away, replaced by a stranger wearing a familiar face.

I knew I should confront him, demand answers, but a part of me was afraid of what I might uncover. The man I had fallen for, the gentleman with the quick wit and the electrifying touch, felt like a stranger wearing a familiar face, a mask that was starting to crack at the edges. I was torn between the desire to cling to the illusion of our perfect romance and the need to know the truth, to see the man behind the mask, no matter how painful it might be.

The final straw came late one night when I was leaving Chrollo's apartment, my mind whirling with unanswered questions, my heart heavy in my chest. As I stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps, I nearly collided with a man coming from the opposite direction. He was tall and lean, with cold eyes that seemed to look right through me, his face all sharp angles and harsh lines. A shiver of unease ran down my spine, a sense of danger emanating from him like a palpable force.

"Excuse me," I mumbled, trying to sidestep him, my skin prickling with unease.

But he blocked my path, his large frame filling the narrow hallway, his gaze flicking past me to Chrollo's door, a flash of something dark and dangerous in his eyes. "He's expecting me," the man said, his voice flat and emotionless, sending a chill down my spine.

I glanced over my shoulder, but Chrollo had already closed the door, the sound of the lock clicking into place loud in the sudden silence. A wave of dread washed over me as I hurried past the man, my heart pounding in my ears, my hands shaking as I jabbed at the elevator button. Questions swirled in my mind, a growing sense of fear and unease that I couldn't shake, no matter how hard I tried to rationalize it away.

I didn't sleep that night, my mind racing with possibilities, with questions I was afraid to voice aloud. Who was the man in the hallway? What business did he have with Chrollo at such a late hour? The not knowing was almost worse than the truth, my imagination conjuring up all manner of dark scenarios, each more terrible than the last. I tossed and turned, my sheets tangled around me, my heart aching with the growing realization that the man I loved was not who I thought he was.

The paranoia grew like a cancer, spreading through every aspect of my life, tainting every interaction with Chrollo. I found myself watching him constantly, analyzing every word, every gesture, looking for some hint of the truth behind the mask. Every phone call he took, every message he received, every unexplained absence became a clue in a puzzle I was desperate to solve, a mystery I couldn't let go. I was consumed by the need to know, to uncover the secrets he was hiding, even as a part of me feared what I might find.

I started making excuses to drop by his apartment unannounced, hoping to catch him off guard, to glimpse the man behind the facade. But Chrollo was always one step ahead, his mask of charm and civility firmly in place, his explanations smooth and plausible. It was like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands, always slipping through my fingers just when I thought I had a grasp on the truth. I felt like I was losing my mind, like I was trapped in a maze of lies and half-truths, with no way out.

The strain began to take its toll, the constant state of heightened awareness, of second-guessing every moment. I was distracted at work, jumping at every unexpected noise, seeing shadows in every corner. My friends noticed the change, commenting on my withdrawn behavior, the dark circles under my eyes, the way I seemed to be constantly on edge. I brushed off their concerns with a forced smile and a wave of my hand, not wanting to voice the suspicions that consumed my every waking moment.

I started to pull away, to put distance between us, needing time to clear my head, to make sense of the tangled web of lies and half-truths. I made excuses to avoid seeing him, claiming work obligations or family commitments, my voice shaking only slightly as I lied through my teeth. I needed space, needed to step back and look at the situation objectively, without the haze of love and desire clouding my judgment. But even as I tried to distance myself, I found myself drawn back to him, like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the pull of his magnetism.

But Chrollo wouldn't let me go so easily, his presence a constant pull, a magnetic force I couldn't seem to resist. He showed up at my work, at my favorite coffee shop, always with a bouquet of flowers and a contrite smile, his eyes soft and pleading. He promised to be more open, to answer any questions I might have, to lay his secrets bare before me. And for a moment, I wanted to believe him, to fall into the warmth of his embrace and let the world fade away.

I started to dig deeper, to research Chrollo's past, looking for any clue that might explain the inconsistencies, the blank spaces in his history. Late one night, huddled over my laptop with a mug of coffee growing cold beside me, I found it. A news article, buried deep in the archives of a local paper, a few scant paragraphs that made my blood run cold. A string of high-profile thefts, linked to a shadowy group known as the Phantom Troupe, their methods as elusive as their identities. And there, in grainy black and white, a photograph of a man with dark hair and piercing eyes, a face I would know anywhere.

My heart stopped in my chest as I stared at the screen, the pieces of the puzzle finally falling into place with a sickening clarity. The man I loved, the gentleman with the silver tongue and the devastating smile, was a thief. And not just any thief, but a member of the most notorious criminal organization in the city, a ghost in the shadows, a phantom in the night. I sat back in my chair, my hands shaking as I tried to process the truth, to reconcile the Chrollo I knew with the man in the article.

The reality of my situation crashed over me like a wave, cold and unrelenting. I was in love with a lie, a beautiful fiction wrapped in a tailored suit and a charming smile. The future I had imagined for us, the life I had started to build in my mind, was nothing more than a house of cards, ready to come tumbling down at any moment. I felt like I couldn't breathe, like the walls were closing in around me, trapping me in a nightmare from which there was no escape.

And I had no idea what I was going to do about it.

The truth hung heavy in the air between us, a suffocating presence that filled the room and pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. My heart raced as I confronted Chrollo with the article, my voice trembling with a potent mix of anger, fear, and betrayal. He sat across from me, his posture relaxed, his eyes downcast, his hands resting calmly in his lap. The silence stretched on, broken only by the relentless ticking of the clock on the wall, each second an eternity of agonizing anticipation.

When he finally spoke, his voice was even and measured, devoid of any discernible emotion. "I never intended for you to discover the truth this way," he said, his gaze meeting mine, his dark eyes revealing nothing. "I considered telling you, explaining everything, but I couldn't find the right approach."

Disbelief and heartache surged through me, constricting my throat and stinging my eyes with unshed tears. "Explain what, Chrollo? That our entire relationship has been built on a foundation of lies? That the man I fell in love with is nothing more than a carefully crafted illusion?"

His expression remained impassive, unfazed by my accusation. "The connection between us is genuine, Y/N. My feelings for you, the moments we've shared, none of that was a deception."

A bitter, mirthless laugh escaped my lips, echoing harshly in the oppressive stillness of the room. "But everything else? The thefts, the Phantom Troupe? How can you claim that's not an integral part of who you are?"

Chrollo sighed, a subtle indication of impatience rather than genuine weariness. "It's not that simple. The Troupe is like family to me. We have each other's backs, keep each other safe. What we do isn't solely about financial gain or the adrenaline rush. It's about survival, about carving out a place in a world that's never given us a fair chance."

As I sat there, my mind reeling, a chill crept down my spine, raising goosebumps on my skin. Chrollo's dark eyes bored into mine, a glimmer of something cold and dangerous lurking beneath the surface of his composed exterior. In that moment, the true depth of his detachment became starkly apparent, sending a fresh wave of fear washing over me.

"You need to understand, Y/N," he continued, his voice low and even. "The Phantom Troupe is more than just a gang. It's a way of life. A family bound by blood and loyalty. I've committed heinous acts in the name of that loyalty. Acts that would make your blood run cold."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding against my ribcage like a trapped bird. "And what about me, Chrollo? Was I just another pawn in your twisted game? Another plaything to be discarded when you grew bored?"

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his features, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. "No, Y/N. Never. What I feel for you is the closest thing to genuine emotion I've ever experienced. But I won't deceive you. I am what I am. That's not going to change, not even for you."

With shaking legs, I stood up, my entire body trembling with a mixture of fear, anger, and despair. "I can't do this, Chrollo. I can't be a part of your world. The things you've done...the person you truly are...I can't turn a blind eye to that."

He nodded, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I expected as much. I knew this moment would arrive sooner or later. I merely hoped..." He trailed off, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. "It's irrelevant now."

I took a step back, my mind struggling to process the revelation of Chrollo's true identity. The man I had fallen for, the charming and enigmatic gentleman, was nothing more than a meticulously crafted facade, a mask concealing the cold, ruthless criminal beneath.

"I can't be a part of this, Chrollo," I repeated, my voice quivering with a mixture of fear and resignation. "I can't be with someone who lives a life of crime, who has no regard for the people he hurts."

Chrollo's expression remained inscrutable, his dark eyes boring into mine with an intensity that made my skin crawl. "I'm afraid you don't have a choice, Y/N. You see, you've become quite an intriguing diversion for me, a delightful puzzle to unravel. And I'm not in the habit of relinquishing things that keep me entertained."

His words, spoken with chilling calm, carried an unmistakable undercurrent of threat that turned my blood to ice in my veins. "What are you saying, Chrollo?"

A smile devoid of warmth or humor tugged at the corners of his mouth. "It's quite simple, really. You have two options. You can choose to stay with me, to accept me for who and what I am, and continue to be a part of my life. Or..." He paused, his gaze hardening. "You can refuse, and face the consequences."

My heart raced, a sickening realization dawning on me as the true nature of my predicament became clear. "And what consequences would those be?"

Chrollo shrugged, the gesture casual and unconcerned. "Death, of course. I can't risk you going to the authorities, exposing me and my associates. If you can't be with me, then you can't be allowed to live."

The words hung in the air between us, a chilling ultimatum that left me feeling trapped and utterly helpless. I searched Chrollo's face for any sign of remorse, any hint of the man I had thought I knew, but found only cold, calculating resolve.

"I...I need time to think," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper, my throat constricted with fear and despair.

Chrollo nodded, his expression impassive. "Of course. Take all the time you need, Y/N. But remember, the clock is ticking. And I'm not a patient man."

With those words, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone, the weight of his ultimatum crushing down on me. I sank to the floor, my legs no longer able to support me, as the full horror of my situation crashed over me in relentless waves.

I was trapped, caught between a love that had turned to ashes and a fate worse than death. And no matter which path I chose, I knew that my life would never be the same again.

I sat there, numb and disbelieving, as Chrollo's words echoed in my mind. Stay with him, or die. The choice was no choice at all, a cruel mockery of free will in the face of his cold ultimatum. With a heavy heart and an overwhelming sense of despair, I realized that I had no other option.

"I'll stay," I whispered, the words bitter on my tongue, tasting of ashes and defeat. "I'll stay with you, Chrollo."

He nodded, a glimmer of satisfaction in his dark eyes, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "A wise decision, Y/N. I knew you'd see reason."

But even as I agreed to his terms, a part of me rebelled against the idea of being trapped in this nightmare, of living a life shackled to a man who saw me as nothing more than a possession, a plaything to be discarded when he tired of me.

In the days that followed, I went through the motions of my life, a hollow shell of my former self. I smiled when Chrollo was around, played the role of the dutiful girlfriend, but inside, I was screaming, my soul withering with each passing moment. The weight of my despair pressed down on me, suffocating me slowly, day by day.

I couldn't bear the thought of living like this forever, of being forever bound to a monster who held no love, no true affection for me. In a moment of desperation, I made a decision. If I couldn't escape Chrollo in life, then I would find my freedom in death.

I sat in the bathtub, the steaming water lapping at my skin, providing no comfort to the icy numbness that had settled in my heart. The razor blade rested against my wrist, the metal cool and inviting, a whispered promise of release from the nightmare my life had become. My hand trembled, the weight of my decision bearing down on me, tears streaming down my face and mingling with the bathwater.

But even as I sat there, the razor poised to end my suffering, I couldn't bring myself to do it. My hand shook, the blade biting into my skin, drawing a thin line of crimson, but I couldn't find the strength, the resolve, to finish the job. Sobs wracked my body, my chest heaving with the force of my anguish, as I sat there, paralyzed by fear and despair.

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

My head snapped up, my heart leaping into my throat at the sound of Chrollo's voice. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a look of detached amusement on his face, as if he'd stumbled upon a mildly entertaining scene.

"Chrollo..." I whispered, my voice hoarse and broken, barely recognizable to my own ears.

He pushed off the doorframe and sauntered into the bathroom, his movements casual and unhurried. "Did you really think I wouldn't know, Y/N? That I wouldn't sense your desperation, your pathetic attempt at escape?"

I lowered my gaze, shame and despair warring within me, my cheeks burning with humiliation. "I can't do this anymore, Chrollo. I can't live like this."

He crouched down beside the tub, his dark eyes glittering with a cruel sort of amusement. "And yet, here you are, unable to even commit to your own demise. How tragic."

With a sudden motion, he grasped my wrist, yanking the razor from my fingers. I gasped, more from surprise than pain, as he held the blade up to the light, examining it with a detached sort of interest.

"Did you really think this would be the answer, Y/N? That you could escape me, escape your fate, with something as trivial as this?"

He tossed the razor aside, the metal clattering against the tile floor, and cupped my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "You're mine, Y/N. Forever. And no matter how many times you try to run, to hide, to end your own miserable existence, I will always find you. I will always bring you back."

Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the bathwater, as the hopelessness of my situation crashed over me anew. Chrollo was right. There was no escape, no way out of this hell I had foolishly walked into.

He stood, looking down at me with a mixture of pity and cold amusement. "Clean yourself up, Y/N. And let this be a lesson to you. Your life is mine, to do with as I please. And I'm not done with you yet."

With those words, he turned and walked out, leaving me alone in the bath, my skin pruning in the cooling water, my heart shattered beyond repair. I had gambled everything on Chrollo, on the love I thought we shared, and I had lost. And now, I had to live with the consequences, forever trapped in a nightmare of my own making.

Chrollo led me from the bathroom, his hand wrapped around my wrist in a grip that was both gentle and unyielding. I followed him numbly, my mind still reeling from the events that had transpired, the razor's bite still stinging on my skin. He guided me to the bed, the plush comforter soft beneath my bare legs as he lowered me onto the mattress.

I sat there, my hands clasped in my lap, my eyes downcast, as he moved about the room, his presence a tangible force, a weight pressing down on me from all sides. Fear and despair coiled in my gut, my heart racing as I tried to anticipate his next move, dreading what new torment he might have in store for me.

"Look at me, Y/N," he commanded, his voice soft but firm, leaving no room for disobedience.

I obeyed, raising my gaze to meet his, my breath catching in my throat at the intensity I saw there. He stood before me, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his dark hair falling across his brow in a way that was both casual and calculated.

"Do you understand now?" he asked, his tone almost conversational, as if we were discussing the weather rather than the complete and utter destruction of my life. "Do you see the futility of your actions, the pointlessness of your resistance?"

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with unshed tears. "I understand that I'm trapped," I whispered, my voice hoarse and raw, barely recognizable to my own ears. "That there's no escape from this nightmare, from you."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, a flash of satisfaction in his eyes. "Good. You're learning."

He reached out, his fingers ghosting along my cheek, tracing the curve of my jaw with a touch that was almost tender. I shivered, my skin prickling with a mixture of fear and revulsion, my stomach churning at the unwanted contact.

"You belong to me, Y/N," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear, sending a chill down my spine. "Body and soul, heart and mind. There is no part of you that is not mine, no corner of your being that I do not possess."

I closed my eyes, a single tear escaping to trail down my cheek, the hot sting of it a bitter reminder of my helplessness. He was right. I was his, wholly and completely, a moth caught in the web of a spider, helpless to resist the pull of his power.

Chrollo's lips brushed against my skin, trailing a path of fire down the column of my throat. I gasped, my hands fisting in the comforter, my body responding to his touch despite the revulsion that churned in my gut, despite the voice in my head screaming at me to fight, to resist, to do anything but submit to his twisted desires.

"You will never leave me," he whispered, his words a dark promise, a vow etched in blood and tears. "You will never escape. You are mine, now and forever."

And as his mouth descended on mine, his hands roaming over my body with a possessiveness that bordered on violence, I knew that he was right. There was no escape. Not for me, and not for anyone else who crossed his path.

I was his. And there was nothing I could do about it.

His kiss was like a drug, the taste of him addictive, the feel of his hands on my body intoxicating. I tried to resist, to push him away, but it was a futile effort. My body betrayed me, arching into his touch, craving more.

He broke the kiss, his eyes dark with desire, his breath ragged against my skin. "You can fight me all you want, Y/N. But in the end, you'll give in. You'll surrender to me, just as you did before."

"I won't," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance.

He smiled, a cold, cruel smile that sent a chill down my spine. "We'll see about that."

With a growl, he claimed my mouth again, his lips rough against mine, his teeth nipping at my skin. I cried out, my nails digging into his back, my body surrendering to the pleasure even as my mind screamed in protest.

I knew this was wrong, that I should resist, should fight him with every fiber of my being. But the line between pain and pleasure was blurred, the boundary between fear and desire a thin and fragile thing. And as he ravaged my body, his touch bruising, his voice a low and menacing growl in my ear, I realized with a sickening jolt that a part of me wanted this.

A part of me craved the pain, the darkness, the twisted power play. And that realization, more than anything else, was the final nail in the coffin of my doomed resistance.

Chrollo's hands moved over my body, his fingers tracing the lines of my hips, the curve of my breasts, a strange mix of gentleness and possessiveness in his touch. I gasped, arching into him, my pulse racing, a dull ache building between my thighs.

"That's it," he murmured, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of my neck. "Give in to me, Y/N. Surrender."

His teeth grazed my earlobe, sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine. I moaned, my fingers tangling in his hair, his name a whisper on my lips.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice rough and low. "Say that you're mine."

"I'm yours," I breathed, the words tumbling from my lips without hesitation, a damning admission of defeat. "I'm yours, Chrollo."

He kissed me again, hard and possessive, his tongue delving into my mouth. I surrendered to him, my body and mind consumed by the raw, primal need that burned between us.

He pulled back, his gaze dark and hungry, a satisfied smile curving his lips. "Good girl," he murmured, his thumb brushing across my swollen lips. "Now, let's see just how much you're willing to give me."

He moved with a predatory grace, his muscles rippling beneath his skin, his body a weapon honed to lethal perfection. He knelt before me, his fingers deft and sure, as he spread my thighs, his lips ghosting across my heated flesh.

I cried out, my back arching off the bed, as his tongue flicked over the sensitive bundle of nerves at my core. He growled, his fingers digging into my hips, holding me in place as he feasted on my body, his tongue and lips working their dark magic on me.

Pleasure rippled through me, hot and urgent, my skin tingling with electricity. I gasped, my hands clutching at the sheets, my body writhing beneath his touch.

"Chrollo," I moaned, my voice hoarse and desperate. "Please, please..."

He laughed, a dark and dangerous sound, his eyes glinting with a mix of lust and amusement. "Please what, Y/N?"

"Please," I begged, the word a broken whisper, a plea for release. "I need you."

"What do you need?" he asked, his tone mocking.

"I need you inside me," I gasped, my body aching with desire, a dull, throbbing heat pulsing through my veins. "Please, Chrollo, I need you to fuck me."

His eyes darkened, a look of pure, animalistic lust flashing across his features. With a low growl, he rose to his feet, his fingers digging into my hips, lifting me effortlessly, and drove himself into me, the sudden fullness tearing a cry from my lips.

I clung to him, my nails scoring his back, my body shuddering with the force of his thrusts. He claimed me, his mouth hot and hungry on mine, his hands gripping my flesh with a bruising intensity.

The room was filled with the sounds of our bodies colliding, the scent of our desire hanging heavy in the air. I cried out, my voice hoarse and raw, the waves of pleasure crashing over me, drowning out all thought, all reason.

I lost myself in the moment, in the feeling of him inside me, filling me, completing me. For a brief, shining moment, there was nothing but us, our bodies moving as one, the line between pain and pleasure blurred and meaningless.

And then, with a cry, I shattered, my body convulsing, the release tearing through me, an explosion of sensation. I felt him follow, his movements growing erratic, his breath a ragged gasp in my ear, his release hot and intense.

We collapsed in a tangle of limbs, the sweat cooling on our skin, the aftershocks of our shared pleasure still rippling through us. I lay there, breathless and spent, a strange mix of emotions churning within me.

I was disgusted with myself, with the way I had surrendered to him, with the pleasure I had found in his arms. But beneath that revulsion, buried deep beneath the surface, was a sense of shameful satisfaction, a twisted sort of gratification.

I had given in to him. I had surrendered to the darkness, the madness, the primal desire that raged between us. And as his arms tightened around me, his breath warm against my skin, a part of me reveled in the knowledge that, no matter what happened, he would always be a part of me.

"Are you satisfied?"

The question hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning, with implications. I glanced at Chrollo, my gaze flicking over his naked form, his skin still flushed with the aftermath of our encounter. He was watching me, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, the challenge clear in his dark eyes.

"No," I replied, meeting his gaze evenly, a thrill of anticipation running through me. "I'm not."

Chrollo raised an eyebrow, a flicker of interest sparking in his dark eyes. "Oh? And what more could you possibly want, Y/N?"

I swallowed, my heart pounding in my chest as I forced myself to hold his gaze. "I want the truth, Chrollo. The real you, not the mask you wear for the world."

A slow smile spread across his face, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Careful what you wish for, my dear. The truth can be a dangerous thing."

I shook my head, a wry smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I knew the risks when I chose to stay with you. I'm not afraid of the darkness."

Chrollo chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers down my spine. "Brave words, Y/N. But we both know that's not entirely true, don't we?"

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my skin, his fingers trailing along the curve of my jaw. "You may think you want the monster, but can you truly handle the reality of what I am?"

I met his gaze unflinchingly, my pulse racing with a heady mix of fear and desire. "There's only one way to find out."

With a sudden movement, Chrollo pinned me to the bed, his body covering mine, his eyes glittering with a dark hunger. "Then let me show you," he murmured, his mouth descending on mine in a searing kiss.

As the hours passed and the shadows lengthened, we lay there, entwined, our bodies slick with sweat, the air heavy with the scent of our mingled desire. Chrollo traced idle patterns on my skin, his fingers moving over my body with a familiarity born of countless encounters. But there was a distant look in his eyes, a contemplative expression that I hadn't seen before.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked, curious despite myself.

He was silent for a moment, his gaze focused on something far away. "I was wondering," he said at last, his voice uncharacteristically soft, "how things might have been different, if we had met under other circumstances."

I felt a flicker of surprise at his words, a strange sensation of hope and longing stirring in my chest. "What do you mean?"

Chrollo sighed, his fingers stilling on my skin. "If I wasn't who I am, if I wasn't a criminal, a member of the Phantom Troupe... could we have had something real, something genuine?"

I swallowed hard, my heart aching at the wistfulness in his tone. "I don't know," I replied honestly. "But I'd like to think so."

He smiled then, a sad, fleeting thing that barely touched his eyes. "In another life, perhaps I could have truly fallen in love with you, Y/N. Without the lies, the secrets, the constant threat of danger hanging over us."

I reached up, cupping his cheek in my hand, feeling the roughness of his stubble against my palm. "But this is the life we have, Chrollo. The one we've chosen, for better or worse."

He leaned into my touch, his eyes drifting shut for a moment. "I know. And I don't regret it, not really. But sometimes, I can't help but wonder..."

His words trailed off, the unspoken possibilities hanging in the air between us. I knew what he meant, knew the bittersweet ache of imagining a different path, a different fate. But we both knew that there was no going back, no changing the choices we had made.

"We have each other," I said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "Here and now. That's what matters."

Chrollo smiled, a real smile this time, his eyes warm and fond as they met mine. "You're right," he murmured, pulling me closer, his arms tightening around me. "And I wouldn't trade it for anything."

#hxh #hxh x reader #hxh x reader smut #chrollo smut #chrollo lucilfer #hxh chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo x reader smut #hxh smut

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messiahzzz · 4 months

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while it’s perfectly fine to have your own headcanons that are non-canon compliant — by all means, go wild. recognizing pieces of yourselves in fictional characters can be a very healing and validating experience. this is nonetheless a casual, well-intentioned reminder that gale, in fact, does not have bpd.

bpd is a pervasive pattern of instability affecting interpersonal relationships, self-image, and mood. the disorder is marked by impulsivity beginning in early adulthood and is present in a variety of contexts. a diagnosis requires at least 5 of the following 9 criteria to be met:

Fear of abandonment

Unstable or changing relationships

Unstable self-image; struggles with identity or sense of self

Impulsive or self-damaging behaviors (e.g., excessive spending, unsafe sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating).

Suicidal behavior or self-injury

Varied or random mood swings

Constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness

Problems with anger, including frequent loss of temper or physical fights

Stress-related paranoia or loss of contact with reality

source: [x]

i highlighted the criteria that do apply to gale in one way or another in a pretty purple.

i personally believe that it’s rather harmful to equate his relationship with mystra with her being “his fp”. she is a deity, his goddess, and the source of his powers, who is in in full control of the magic he wields.

gale: mystra commands all magic. salvation, if such a thing exists, is hers to bestow or withhold.

gale has been effectively groomed and conditioned to serve and revere her at every turn since early childhood. imo this comparison really undermines a lot of crucial points in gale’s story that deal with his overall trauma and abuse. after all, you wouldn’t call shar sh*dowhe*rt’s fp either.

gale doesn’t revile mystra, nor does he commit benevolent deeds solely motivated by the secret hope that she will somehow notice and take him back. when you meet gale in the game he has already fully come to terms with the fact that he has been abandoned by mystra with no hope of reconciliation whatsoever. he also had some very fitting lines in ea regarding this topic that i'm sad haven't been repurposed in the full release in some way.

gale: [the tadpoles] don't know that some things are impossible. they don't know that... they don't know. player: what is impossible about what you're being shown? gale: forgiveness. gale: it is mystra i see. and yet it cannot be her. there was a time when i would have believed - but no longer. gale: suffice it to say she would not bestow upon me the favors promised in these dreams. that is how i know they are delusions.

he has already reached the stage of acceptance. moreover, gale only starts to realize that mystra might have been in the wrong for requesting his death once the tadpole squad & tav speak some sense into him. and even then he doesn’t ever show that his emotions regarding mystra are anywhere along those lines. he is instead rightfully angered that she only saw value in his death, after he had been worshipping her loyally for years.

gale: i worshipped mystra loyally for years, and in that time she granted me the barest sliver of the power i was ready to wield. gale: even with the fate of the world at stake, she had little more to offer me than the means of blowing myself up at a more convenient time. she's done nothing to help us.

gale: you abandoned me in my hour of greatest need. i had no obligation to help you in yours. gale: because you had no right to ask that of me. you cast me out, remember?

gale doesn’t display rapid changes in mood either. he is a character who is generally very composed and has been known to remain nonchalant even in the face of utter horror. tim downie himself even commented on this once. source: [x]

the only instance i can think of is his sudden switch from resigned-to-death to utter-eye-sparkling-enthusiasm once he spots the crown of karsus. apart from crucial story reasons that i won’t touch upon in this post, i’d also like to add that it’s a rather common phenomenon for people who have just barely survived a suicide attempt to suddenly be filled with zeal and unbridled energy. he doesn't display impulsivity without thorough consideration when it comes to its acquisition either. he considers this a golden opportunity and is positively enthusiastic and elated that this might prove an alternative to him ending up in a cloud of netherese smoke. nonetheless, he knows what he is doing. evident in him actually succeeding in ascending in one of his endings.

gale: this is no passing whim, trust me. if i can obtain that crown, it will affect us all. it is not a decision i'll take lightly. gale: it's our future that i'm thinking of - we can't rely on anyone else to do it for us. gale: for now - we've learned all we can.

neither are his relationships that we do know of (namely elminster, tara, and morena) frequently changing. they are marked by years of mutual respect, care, and consistency. there is nothing unstable about them. while it's important to note that his relationship with tav is still in its honeymoon stages during the main game, there is no inclination of any push-and-pull dynamic between them whatsoever.

gale isn’t preoccupied with keeping up some sort of benevolent act in order to win (back) affection — he genuinely IS a good person and he proves this at every turn. moreover, to have a tressym become your familiar you must be of Good alignment.

(taken from tumblr user galedekarios's post.)

there is never a moment where his ideals or alignment suddenly change. in fact, i’d argue that he and wyll are most consistent in this regard when compared to the rest of the companions. gale makes his moral standpoint very clear from the beginning on and also explicitly states that he believes that in order to survive this entire ordeal it would be selfish of him if he wouldn’t be willing to compromise on his morals. this isn’t a sudden bout of ✨muahahaha wizard hubris✨ that he barely contained to hold in before, this is yet another act of selflessness — it is what he’s willing to do for the group and subsequently, the welfare of faerun.

player: i love unsavoury things. don't feel guilty on my account. gale: that's good to know. although i should say i do what i do out of a sense of utility and pragmatism, not a love of the unsavoury. gale: we're up against the greatest threat faerun has ever faced. i don't mind getting my hands dirty if it gives us a better chance of surviving. gale: whatever advantage i can gain for us. i will. and i refuse to feel guilty for it, no matter how much mystra's chidings might echo in my skull.

this is him, once again trying to be useful in whatever way he can. to give them an advantage, a slither of hope against seemingly impossible odds, so they might make it out of this in one piece. gale wouldn’t approve of those actions under normal circumstances, but their predicament is as far from any definition of “normal” as it can get.

gale is no fool, he realizes this is essentially about survival. he knows that he has no option left other than to tolerate, which is why he can be convinced to not immediately depart tav’s company even if they choose to commit atrocities. this is no character flaw of his or him displaying a previously dormant openness for cruelty, this is about recognizing the necessity.

player: you don't stand a chance alone. you're free to go. i dare you. gale: gods damn you - you're right. few things are more powerful than the will to live.

gale: i thought the orb to be the greatest of my sins, but i see now that there are darker depths to which i might yet sink. you may be content to sink into that abyss, but i assure you - i am not.

gale doesn’t lead a split existence. he has a very strong sense of identity. he knows what he wants, what he doesn’t want and he isn’t shy in expressing his boundaries either. which he has especially shown when it comes to his relationship with tav. i originally had intended to touch upon this in another post entirely but: i firmly believe his entire Gale of Waterdeep™ persona is more of a performance than him struggling to find a sense of identity and trying them on for size. it is an intentional decision to separate gale dekarios from the great wizard of waterdeep, to create distance and make sure his family name remains untarnished in case things should ever go sideways.

gale: i agree. and on the plus side, if i get myself into any truly cataclysmic straits during the remainder of our journey, my family name will go untarnished.

there is also a deep-rooted feeling of unworthiness and his firm belief that love and praise are conditional resources that he will only be granted through his talents alone, naturally. presenting himself as gale dekarios, the man, would mean highlighting his shortcomings and very human flaws, while distracting from the aspects of himself that are deemed praiseworthy, the ones that actually matter: his magical prowess.

i personally believe that part of the beauty of gale’s story is him realizing just how “little” it takes for him to be truly content. he gets his happy ending, with someone at his side who truly sees him, understands him and unabashedly commits to him. they worship and adore him in return — and it is well deserved. he isn’t reduced to be constantly and restlessly searching for some unattainable ideal to fill the gaping void within himself. he doesn’t secretly thirst for more power still or believes that in being with tav he is settling for something. instead, he is finally happy to just be. be and be accepted. teaching a class of unruly wizards and coming home to his spouse each day already fulfills him.

gale: that's how i feel with you - content. it's a rather unfamiliar feeling, i must say. not something gale of waterdeep ever craved.

even if he doesn’t pursue a romance with tav, he reaches a realization of “oh, it appears i am not irredeemably flawed and only able to reach true redemption through my own death. what i needed was actually with me all along.” throughout their journey and through his friend's support. i think that’s a very powerful and comforting message. he is very well capable of finding peace within himself.

devnotes: his default state is that he returned to waterdeep and became a professor of illusory magic at his former school, blackstaff academy. general vibe here is that this is a gale who's found peace with himself - he's a great teacher, one his students are mostly in awe of.

to repeat myself: sharing your headcanons is all in good fun, nor should you ever be discouraged from doing so. this is your personal tumblr experience, after all. but i personally think we should be mindful of unintentionally perpetuating negative stereotypes, such as narcissism being a general indicator or being deemed a classic depiction of bpd. i think we can all agree that the continuous longing for acceptance, connection, praise, and approval is something we all have in common deep down, regardless of whatever disorder we may have. [insert victoria justice meme here]

gale may be many things to many people, but he is no entitled narcissist.

#with love. a person diagnosed with bpd <3 #this turned much longer than i originally intended it to be (aka less of a reply and more of a character study)#by now you know that i am incapable of cutting myself short. i’m so sorry #i debated if i should put this in the tag at first #but i personally think that this is a very interesting discussion #also to reiterate: this is by NO MEANS a slight at the original poster #i just thought it more respectful to make my own post instead of invading theirs with my ranting #fandom is all about fun and escapism.#if you interpret characters in a certain way that i personally disagree with that is a-okay #BUT i’m also gonna have my own specific brand of fun by pointing out why you’re wrong (affectionately)#also i quickly want to add that if you're interested in a very accurate and respectful portrayal of bpd: watch crazy ex-girlfriend!!#its on netflix and genuinely such a funny and unapologetically weird show. the writers have really done their homework #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 meta #character analysis #it speaks #long post #suicide mention

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thinemoonshine · 3 months

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𓆰𝓈𝑜𝒾𝓁, 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓊𝒹𝑒 ♡𓆪

cha hyun su x female reader genre: romance, angst, fluff type: series (but can be read as oneshot) word count: 2,702

⚠ mentions of self-harm and suicide ⚠

part 4 of series ◄◄ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ part 6 of series

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ synopsis: things have gotten worse. monsters rapidly increased, green home was destroyed and the military came to supposedly 'help them' or as what (y/n) actually believes, 'collect cha hyun su' as part of their 'special infected search' mission. this caused their separation and to add to that, a series of unfortunate events follow- challenging (y/n)'s already wavering tenacity to stay alive... and the presence of a 'guardian angel' may just rekindle or extinguish her flame ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

It's been a while since the remaining surviving residents of Green Home Mansion Apartment and others have been living in the stadium. (y/n) is one of the former, alive, yet day by day, she feels less so- and knowing this kills her. She talks less each day, eats less, feels less and even moves less- slowly beginning to be a puppet on strings. The routine never changes; wake up, cut and bleed to prove her identity as human, eat and drink whatever there is to eat- none at all at some times, suffer insanely long hours of boredom then go back to sleep. Wake up and it's the same thing all over again.

Although, there is one thing (y/n) looks forward to; hanging out with Eunyu, Eunhyuk's younger sister whom she's somewhat close with due to their close age. Well, not really 'hanging out' but more of following her to the secret exit in the stadium and watching her leave. (y/n) will then wait around, praying that Eunyu will be safe and turning out relieved and joyful when she would come back alive. This small scenario that happens daily is what keeps her... feeling, in a way. To hope, to be relieved, to celebrate.

Eunyu doesn't share the same sentiments as her, obviously, since she finds her outings as 'failures' at the inability to find her brother who she believes (or chooses to, at least) is alive. But, she does feel grateful and sincerely... happy, to return to someone waiting for her. As cold as Eunyu seems, she is actually quite cordial towards (y/n) than she is with anyone else.

"How was today's trip?" (y/n) tails after Eunyu as she slips back into the stadium with dirt and soil all over her skin and clothes.

"Boring," the latter answers languidly as she strides- not sparing the other a glance. "But, he came again."

(y/n) pauses slightly at this but resumes her steps quickly again. "...Your hero?"

"Eunhyuk," her friend replies almost immediately and (y/n) feels the added weight in the air around them. Eunyu's told her about the 'guardian angel' that saves her whenever she gets in trouble outside and although it does make sense that they could be Eunhyuk who became a neo-human, at the same time... it sounds impossible. Just like the idea of Hyun Su coming back.

(y/n) only smiles at Eunyu, not saying anything further and just like that, another day passes.

Once again, she wakes up, cuts and bleeds, eats, drinks, and waits long insufferable hour—

"I want to leave," (y/n) says under her breath as she stands in front of the secret exit.

Huh. It seems today, the winds have changed.

She turns back into the stadium before exhaling a long breath and leaving a small folded note beside her foot for Eunyu. The latter left earlier, which is perfect because she would've never let her leave. But she'll be wondering where (y/n) is when she returns. The note will suffice.

"I'll be back... I think," (y/n) casually says, not caring for her fate at this point, and leaves without another look.

The sky's turn darker and the winds have picked up. Yet, (y/n) still remains wandering aimlessly. She's met with a couple of monsters, some small and hiding was enough to cover her; some big but non-violent. She got lucky. So lucky that she feels it's ridiculous.

All this fortune is making her more greedy; more hopeful for change, for growth, for... for Hyun Su. But all those is only going to make her feel more lonely, more longing and more... miserable. As selfish and ungrateful as it sounds, there just seems to be nothing left to live for. No one to miss, no one to look forward to.

"Just like me... No one will miss me-" (y/n) trails off as her head raises to look at the tall building beside her. "-if I was gone..."

She blinks and suddenly, she finds herself on the rooftop- looking down at the grassy ground that's a number of levels beneath her. She wonders if Eunyu's read the letter yet. And wonders if her guardian angel made sure of her returning safely.

But what she wonders most... is whether that guardian angel would treat her the same way as they do with Eunyu. If they really are Eunhyuk, he'd save her, right? Maybe? Probably. But she'll never know if she never tries.

And so, her foot lifts off the cement roof and soon, she's free falling with the beautiful view of the starry sky and the cold night air tickling her skin like a million feathers. Strangely, she feels at peace. The unknown of tomorrow- or the next few seconds, fills her with anticipation.

She throws her arms out as her eyes close, letting gravity do its job— until she's captured and crushed against a broad chest before a loud tumble follows.

She landed... alive?

(y/n)'s eyes widen when she realizes this and she quickly props herself up- stumbling slightly at the feeling of ribs against her palms and she gasps at the human figure below her.

Well, if only not for the wing sticking out his right shoulder where there's meant to be an arm. But even with it covering his face from it being used to shield around them, she can guess who it is. Who else can it be?

"You! You're back! Lee Eunhyuk!" She exclaims with genuine shock but relieved and glad for most. A bright smile stretches on her face as she properly sits up—overlooking the fact that her 'cushion' is in fact, a human abdomen—and puts one hand on the large wing to push it away. "Eunyu was right all along! You're—"

Her breath stops and smile drops. What once were upturned, crescent eyes sparkling with glee are now rounded with deep obscurity as they slice between his dark, glossy ones that stare up at her with soft endearment, yet a strange, brittle coldness.

"Cha Hyun Su?" She squeaks out, barely able to speak from the shock and emotions spiraling inside her; both the good and bad.

The other says nothing, nor does his mien express anything as he sits up with his hand hovering her back- just an inch away from touching.

"It's you... All this time, the one that's been saving Eunyu was you," (y/n) completes the puzzle but is again, met with silence as he shifts her away to the grass beside them before standing up.

She watches his wide back becoming smaller and the befuddlement within her quickly boils into something else. And her hands curl to fists.

"Ya, Cha Hyun Su! Where were you?? All this time, I thought you were at a shelter, or-or a lab being experimented on but turns out you've been... been here?? Out and about, wherever this is!" (y/n) shouts, furious and overall, betrayed, that he's never once bothered to visit her. To see her. Tell her that he survived.

Despite her roars, the other is unfazed as he continues to walk away but his choice to remain on land despite his ability to fly is enough to tell (y/n) that he's listening to her.

So, she does what she does best: follow.

"Hey! Talk to me!" She demands and spins him around by the arm when she catches up.

"What? What do you possibly want me to say?" He snaps and his frigid attitude takes her aback. Even the look in his eye as he stares her down, it's... unwelcoming. The fire in her is diminished by the raging waves of desolation that drowns her. She could've escaped this feeling. She could've been free minutes ago if Hyun Su didn't save her.

But now, seeing him act like this, act like a complete stranger towards her, everything became worse. They haven't seen each other for nearly a year but is that enough reason to treat her like one? There was something between them— (y/n) believes there is something between them but maybe, she's wrong. Maybe, it's just her.

He's the only light for her in this cruel, dark world; the only breath of fresh air and the thought of never being able to see him again was worse than being dead. But to Hyun Su... just what is she?

"You should've left me to die."

At this, his brows twitch and jaw tightens. "What?"

"You shouldn't have saved me! I'm dying anyways and all I wanted was to make it quicker! Is that too much of me to even ask for??"

Her thread finally, snaps.

Hyun Su grapples her shoulders- his wing now back to its original form. "You're dying? What do you mean?"

The panic in his voice makes her scoff. Just before, he wouldn't even spare a glance.

"What's it to you?" (y/n) hisses and shakes his hands off. "I could've died any day before this but would you have known? No. You don't bother to know. You don't care. Even saving me today, it was just some sort of 'human conscience,' wasn't it? You couldn't live with yourself if you let me die, knowing that you could've saved me- so you did. But even then, you wouldn't have bat an eye if I ended up dying somewhere out of your territory."

All these words, they feel like blades through her throat as she speaks them. But if it's the last time she's ever gonna see him, she wants to at least, leave an impression. To haunt him— as much as he's haunted her.

"Well, you don't have worry no more. Because the next time I'll try something, you won't know it," (y/n) declares confidently and glares at him dead in the eye before turning away to leave.

Tears brim the moment her back faces him and she bites her quivering bottom lip from exposing her sobs- but she's soon rendered soundless at the feel of arms wrapping around her figure from behind.

"Please... don't do this again. Please," Hyun Su pleads shakily and only then does she notice the restrained sobs that spill past his lips. "If you do something in the stadium... somewhere I can't see you, I-I can't save you. So, please, (y/n), don't."

The other stays silent, much too busy trying to hold her own cries and she feels his arms tighten.

"I follow Eunyu around, hoping to see you but I never could. But then I saw you one day. I caught a glimpse of you at the stadium's secret exit- sending Eunyu off and then again, I saw you at the exact same place when she came back. It made me happy... seeing you smile whenever she returned, and as much as I wanted to approach Eunyu to ask about you- I couldn't. "I know who she's looking for... and it isn't me. So I— I got afraid that if I revealed myself, and end up shattering her hopes, she'll never come out again and... you won't have any reason to go to the exit- and I won't be able to see you anymore," Hyun Su confesses his true feelings as his embrace on (y/n) remains unwavering- on contrary, it seems to be more and more secure as the seconds pass, but not enough to suffocate her.

Not that she isn't already from the painful strain in her neck to control the tears.

"It's selfish! I-I know that it's selfish! But I couldn't think... I didn't know what else I could do," he continues with the tremor in his voice heightening. "I care. I really do, (y/n)- and it's all my fault that you felt like I didn't. It's all me. So please, please don't. Don't do this again, please."

(y/n) swallows the hurt as his desperation seeps through her heart- thawing the ice that was forming around it like a cocoon, melting her resolve to forget him and never turn back. "You could've approached me."

"...I was scared that you-" He stops suddenly and instead brings his head down to her shoulder, rubbing his eyes against the fabric of her shirt and if it was damp with his tears before, it's drenched with it now. "I'm not the same as I was."

"If you're talking about your wing, your monster side, or whatever else it is, I don't care," (y/n) confidently declares as she spins in his arms, now looking up at him and the sight of his pooled, glossy eyes breaks her heart and simultaneously tickles it. It's a horrible thought, but he's adorable when he gets emotional. "Okay, Cha Hyun Su?”

The flickering of his eyes on hers tells her that he's skeptical and she cups his cheek, surprising him, and only adding to it when she headbutts him.

He blinks fast, confused, and barely affected while the perpetrator is clutching her head from the pain. "Are you okay? Did something break?"

Hyun Su's hands roam around her face and head, worried that she's actually fractured something.

"No, I'm fine! I'm just trying to prove to you that I really don't care. Look, if I was afraid of you would I have attacked you?" (y/n) explains her point between hisses of pain.

Hyun Su shakes his head with large, warm hands still clasping her cheeks. "N-no."

"See? I don't mind. And if I really cared about you being 'changed,' would I still do this?" She curls her fingers around his collar and yanks him down- smashing their lips together and she can feel his little jump of surprise before he slowly succumbs.

His hands slide down to her waist and he presses her against him- sweeping her off her feet quite literally when he lifts her up just to dive in further into the kiss.

The rising intensity is evident from the way his hand travels up her back as he bends forward into the kiss, making her arch and the stretch feels like heaven to her spine. All that boredom slouch sure did some damage.

"(y/n)..." Hyun Su whispers into the kiss when they separate for breath but it doesn't take longer than 5 seconds before he seizes her lips again- overwhelming the other.

With hands against his chest, she gently pushes. "Hyun Su, I can't breathe."

And he quickly glides away. His wing just popped out and now he's about a few metres away. He has a look of panic and is apologetic as he repents on his passionate behaviour.

(y/n) instantly breaks out laughing at his reaction and the sight and sound of her joy remind Hyun Su of how much of an impact she has in his life. In fact, she just might be the reason for everything.

She's the only light for him in this cruel, dark world; the only breath of fresh air and just the thought of never being able to see her again was worse than being dead. She's everything to him- although, he hopes that he isn't hers. Because in the end, he's still a monster and she's a human, she deserves to be with someone better.

But for now, there's no harm in enjoying their time together, is there?

A squeak emits from (y/n) when she's suddenly levitating above the ground and is brought spinning in his hold. Giggles and soft laughter fill the air- fanning away any tension and weight of their shoulders.

"What's this suddenly, huh?" (y/n) titters and Hyun Su smiles up brightly at her.

"I’m just happy that you’re here. Finally, you’re here.”

#cha hyunsu x reader #sweet home x reader #cha hyun soo x reader #cha hyun su #cha hyun su fanfictions #cha hyun su x female reader #cha hyun su imagines #sweet home #fanfiction #sweet home fanfictions

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romana-after-dark · 1 year

Text

The Wrong Way Master List

Gif by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Raider!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Raider!Tommy Miller x Fem!Reader

Spotify Playlist

Inspiration came from @toxicanonymity and her fantastic Raider!Joel.

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, an both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

Aka: my mom sold me to One Direction

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, dub con on tommy? idk he's not really into it but feels like he has to, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot) but fair warning, major age gaps, love triangle, pregnancy/birth, threats of abortion, major character death, mentions of potential csa/child abuse but does not even come close to happening, forced pregnancy, forced housewife shit, breeding, breeding kink?!?!

This is a reader fic, reader is early 20's, Joel is 40's at this point, reader is small enough that the men can lift her, but these are strong men. Reader is also refered to as little one, little girl ETC, but that's more in reference to her age/innocence than physical size.

Unknown chapters at this point but heres a starter

Chapter 1: Joel takes you away from everything you know

Chapter 2: Joel takes what he wants, Tommy tries to make things easier

Bonus Chapter: Tommy takes Little One's virginity

Chapter 3: Joel softens up, and readers learns her roll in all this

Chapter 4: Little One is getting cocky, and finds herself in trouble, but Tommy and Joel are there for her

Chapter 5: Joel and Tommy don’t feel good

Suggested drabble: Period sex

Chapter 6: Things change with Tommy, and Joel shows a more vunerable side during a near disaster.

Chapter 7: Little One and Lorenzo spend some time together, and Lorenzo drops a bomb on Little One.

Chapter 8: For 6 months of Little One's pregnancy her relationship with Joel and Lorenzo shifts and changes.

Suggested Drabble: Brotherhood

Chapter 9: The aftermath.

Suggested Drabble: “It Wasn’t Always Like This”

Chapter 10: The escape does not go as planned.

Alternate ending: a happier end

Canon Sequel Mini Series, Ghost of You

Follow Ellie's life sifting through to lies to discover the truth of her creation.

Dark Ending Timeline: Going Under

Going Under: Chapter 1:

Going Under: Chapter 2:

Going Under: Chapter 2.5:

Going Under: Chapter 3

Going Under: June and Tommy

Going Under: Chapter 4

Going Under: Finale

Suggested drabbles to see how the uncles are doing after the canon ending: Lorenzo, Zach and Tommy, and Better Than Revenge

If neither ending satisfied you or if there was something you wanted to see but didn’t, if you wanna write something in universe will be happy to link it to my masterlist!

Art by @melodymakesart

Drabbles, One Shots, Thots

Period Sex: Period sex with Joel makes Little One more confused than ever at what she is to Joel

Well, That’s Alright Because I Like The Way It Hurts: Joel is gone for longer than expected and you worry about him. When he comes back, you let him take his frustration out on your body

Brotherhood: Tommy and Joel reflect on their relationship as brothers.

“It Wasn’t Always Like This”: In Tommy’s arms, Little One thinks over her year with Joel

Lorenzo, Zach and Tommy: Lorenzo is slowly recovering, meets his niece for the first time

Better than Revenge: Lorenzo and Tommy can’t get revenge on Joel, but they can get revenge on the one who started it all

Zach and Lorenzo’s Wedding

Gateaway Car by Taylor Swift, thoughts by @fandxmslxt69

Art by @k-ra

Joel and Lorenzo by @fen-is-unwell

If this sort of thing doesn't interest you or triggers you, hide dub con and non con from your tags as I will be tagging any fics like that as such

Main Blog (filled with more normal fics lol): @romanarose

This is absolutely not anything anyone needs to do bc ur lovely comments are enough but if anyone makes a book board, art, a fic or anything based off this series, you absolutely can! I know some creators aren’t for it but I love when people do that, and I’ve written a few fics for a few series myself. If you are so inclined and are okay with it, I’ll attach them to this master list (that includes if you don’t like my endings you can make your own 😂)

But as always, nice comments mean the world. I know with this sort of content you may not want to Reblog it on your page, but if you leave a comment or send an anon, that means the world and keeps me writing!

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller smut #tw rape #dub con #non con #dark joel miller #romana after dark #dark!Joel #the last of us hbo #joel miller fic #joel miller reader #joel miller reade smut #dark joel miller reader #tommy miller fem reader #tommy miller smut #tommy miller fem!reader #the wrong way fic #the wrong way series

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vulpixisananimal · 3 months

Text

(You are tired of the library.)

(Warning. Bellow the read more contains talk about self harm\suicide)

(No matter the library, you would always find one of those books. Be it Carpentry, fiction, Craft, sailing, whatever. There would always be just one book, one damn book.)

(Just let it die.)

(But you had to be there, And of course, it had to be you. Siffrin was nowhere to be found after yesterday, and Loop also disappeared soon after after that morning.)

(So. Here you are.)

(Yourself and Odile looking through the central Jouvente library for, what. Wishing stars? How could that help. You knew that whoever tried to grab Boniface had a wishing star emblem on their person. But that was it. What were the chances that you'd find something useful here.)

(But at least it was quiet.)

(Boniface, Pétronille, Isabeau, and Mirabelle had all headed off to the Defenders to ask them about any potential kidnappers in Jouvente. You didn't want to be around a crowd like that.)

(You sighed. Closing the book you were looking through. It was of your language, but it was just another cautionary tale. Be careful what you wish for, that sort of thing. You put it back.)

(You breathed in, and out.)

(It was probably a good thing only you could read these books. Wish craft deserves to be forgotten, with all the pain it's caused.)

(It was thanks to Wish craft that Vaugarde was nearly frozen in time. That Siffrin was trapped in a time loop. And you were pretty damn sure it was a wish that erased your country from history.)

(Stupid wishes.)

"Have you found anything, Siffrin?"

(Odile was here. She snuck up on you. No, that's not fair, you were just not paying attention. You turn to her, and shake your head.)

"Neither have I. Most of the books on wishes would probably be yours to find."

(You sigh. Of course it would be.)

(Wordlessly, you look back to the bookshelf, picking another paper of dead languages to look through. Odile standing next you, watching you.)

"... Is everything alright?"

(No. No it wasn't alright. But you know that, didn't you Odile. Odile Odile Odile. Always the smartest and quickest to work things out. Go on, say it. Say you've figured out you're not Siffrin, is so, so obvious.)

(You read the book.)

". . ."

(Odile is still there. Go away.)

". . . I acted, inappropriately, a few days ago. I'm sorry."

(Huh?)

"I understand if you don't forgive me. I knew something was wrong and couldn't wait for you to bring it up first. That was wrong of me."

(. . . Right.)

(She did know you weren't Siffrin, but she wasn't bringing it up. But she brought it up anyways by talking about how she menaced you a few days ago. So smart, so smart you are, aren't you.)

(You sigh, and close the book. You turn to her, avoiding eye contact.)

(You open your mouth, nothing comes out.)

". . . Siffrin?"

(You turn away, back to the book.)

". . . You can't speak, right?"

(You nod. You never could. The rare times you were here alone, you had to make do without talking. You could never get yourself to talk.)

(Well, you could, but it would give everyone a headache. You continue reading the book.)

"I can teach you sign language, if you want."

(. . .)

"I understand if there's some. . . Issues between us, but I'm still willing to help with-"

(You hold a finger.)

(There's something here.)

(Records of wishes. Wishes people made and what came from it. One person wished to find a rare fish, and could find they could fish for days at a time non stop. Another wished for true love, and was compelled to travel afar. A third wished their brother would recover from an illness, and they gained powerful healing craft.)

(Odile was talking to you. You ignored her.)

(Hmm. Siffrin wished to stay with his friends, and was given a time loop to do it. The king wanted to remember, and was given the power of time craft of all things.)

(There's a pattern here.)

(Keep looking. What else is there. What kind of wishes did people make. What did they get, did they always get their wish? Of course they did. What about the stars. What's with that star, you knew, didn't you? Did you? What was it-)

"Siffrin!"

(Odile places her hand on your shoulder.)

(Don't. Touch. Me.)

(Even without words you got the message across. Stupid. You're not friends. You're not even allies.)

(She's staring at you. Afraid.)

(You must look downright terrifying right now.)

(So what. She'll get over it, and if not, then you'll be tugged away just like you have hundreds of times. It didn't matter. Slowly, you put the knife to your side, there's no blood on it. You pick up the book again.)

". . . Sorry."

(Fine.)

(Damn. You lost your place. Fine. You started walking to the entrance with the book in hand. You could check the book out or steal it. They wont miss a dead language. You needed out of this dusty, disgusting place. Odile followed.)

(You paused at the exit. It was bright outside.)

". . ."

(She wanted to say something. What, another apology? A scolding?)

(. . . No, something's wrong.)

(She must have picked it up too. You heard something, felt something, smelt something. But you couldn't make it out. There was too much information, too much at once. You gritted your teeth and stepped outside.)

(You winced at the light. The streets were busy. It was loud. Stars, what was going on, something was off, something was wrong.)

"D-dile!"

"Gems- Bonny?!?"

(You turn, Boniface was running to Odile. Why were they here? They were holding tight to Odile. They were crying.)

"There!"

(You look up. A couple of Defenders were jogging over to you two. On instinct, you put yourself between them and Odile and Boniface.)

(Odile seemed just as suspicious.) "What, what happened? what do you two want?"

(The defenders seemed unremarkable, by Vaugarde standards that is.) "That kid ran away from their sister, we're trying to get them back to her."

(Hmm...)

"They ran way from Pétronille? Did something happen?"

(Boniface wasn't responding.)

"Well they were almost kidnapped yesterday, but we caught the girl who tried it, I bet they're still spooked."

(Girl?)

". . . Who was it?" (Odile asked, stone faced.)

"It wasn't her..."

(You turn around, Boniface...?)

"Belle didn' do it... Za told me to, to get you, and, and Nille..."

(You draw your dagger.)

"Siffrin! No need for that!"

"Hey easy kid, we're here to help."

(Help. Ha. You looked at the two defenders. When Mirabelle asked for help all those cowards chose to stay here all nice and comfy. It didn't mater that Vaugarde would freeze. Help, they only helped themselves.)

(Something was wrong. Something wasn't right. Isabeau, Pétronille, and Mirabelle were undoubtedly in trouble.)

(. . . No, it was past that.)

(You didn't need some star in your ear or some annoying jingle. You knew what this was. Wrong choice then, after all.)

(You turn to look at Boniface and Odile. They looked worried, confused, maybe angry. Odile, oh Odile, holding Boniface and telling them its ok even if the world is stabbing them both in the back. Oh whatever, it didn't matter anyway.)

(Well, here comes the hardest part. You twist the knife the other way.)

(Odile. She looks confused. And then, she looks horrified. Oh Odile, always the quickest to work things out.)

(She can't move fast enough to stop you.)

(It hurts.)

(. . . It took longer than usual.)

(. . . The other two would show up soon. They can deal with it.)

(. . . You're going to throw up.)

#isat #isat fanart #isat art #in stars and time #siffrin system au #isat siffrin #sifstem #au #art #isat mal du pays #isat odile #isat spoilers #tw self harm #tw suicide #techincaly #heho #isat bonnie #isat au #sifstem main story

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much-ado-about-whumping · 1 year

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Help for when you’re having a rough time

(If you're looking for my old pinned post with my whump masterlists, you can find it here.)

In light of some deeply sad news in the whump community today, I’m thinking about how many of us here struggle with mental health, sometimes including physical or mental self-harm and suicidality. Since I know lots of folks might be having a hard time right now, I wanted to share some resources that have helped me in rough moments. Please feel free to add on to this post (or make your own, if you want!) with the resources that have worked for you.

First, a note:

Trauma, shame, and suicidality all tend to isolate - they make us feel like we’re all alone in the world, like no one else would understand us, and like the only solutions we have available to us are ones we can think of all by ourselves. In my experience, the antidote to that is connection. If you’re feeling scared or alone, you can hop into my asks or DMs if you want. I’m sure there are other folks in this community who would offer that, too. Many of us have grappled with mental health struggles, including suicidal ideation, and sometimes we can offer each other the care that can be hard to offer ourselves. Don’t be afraid to reach out if you need support.

A quick note about location: I live in the US, but about half the resources in this post are written guides you can access from anywhere. The hotlines and warmlines linked below are US-based. One or two are accessible in Canada or have an online chat or moderated forum that could be accessed anywhere. If you have good local resources from another place, please reblog and add them! (Thank you, @straight-to-the-pain, for flagging this in the notes!)

That said, here’s my absolute first recommendation if you’re feeling generally awful and don’t know what to do:

1. You Feel Like Shit (also available at its original site here)

If you’ve read a lot of ~self care tips~ in your life (and if you’re a bit of a salty bitch like me), you might be sick of being told to eat something and take a nap. (I don’t think we can hydrate our way out of long-term trauma and late-stage capitalistic hell, but thanks.) That said, I’ve found this site REALLY helpful. Personally, I have ADHD and CPTSD, a combination that makes it ROUGH for me to know how to take care of myself sometimes. This site speaks to you calmly, like a non-judgemental friend, and walks you through steps that you might struggle with if you have a hard time with executive function in general, or if you’re ill, grieving, overwhelmed, or otherwise just off your game. I pretty much always walk away feeling at least a little better, even if I don’t complete every step.

There are more suggestions and resources below the cut. Wishing everyone in this community love and care. <3

2. The 15-Minute Rule (info available in many places; after a quick google, I really like this site as a place to start)

One key principle to understanding the resources I’ve put together here is the 15-minute rule. If you’re feeling an urge towards physical or mental self-harm or suicide, studies show that the urge is unlikely to last more than about 15 minutes at its peak intensity. (Sorry I don’t have data on this off the bat - anecdotally, I can tell you that this rule also tracks with my own personal experience.) This means that, if you’re presently feeling overwhelmed by grief or pain that’s turning inwards on you, if you can stay afloat through the next few minutes, the tide of it is likely to ebb. The site I linked above has information about this concept and some great harm-reduction ideas, too. (Another resource on this that I liked in my quick search is here.)

3. Read This First (a compassionate distraction from feelings of self-harm)

I’m gonna be honest; this resource is aimed at folks having urges towards physical self-harm, but it looks like something I would find helpful with urges towards emotional self-harm, too. (It also looks like it could be handy for body-focused repetitive behaviors - BFRBs - like dermatillomania/skin-picking or trichotillomania/hair-pulling).

4. Resources from Pete Walker, psychotherapist and author of Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving

Obviously not everyone reading this will have complex PTSD (also called C-PTSD), but if you’re a person who, in general, tends to beat yourself up a lot, I’d highly recommend checking Pete Walker’s work out. If some of it doesn’t apply to you, that’s okay - take what you need, and leave the rest. This site (and the book it references most heavily) assumes you may have had parents who were emotionally or physically abusive or neglectful. If that doesn’t ring true for you, but other parts of the resources seem helpful, use them anyway! A handy place to start maybe this page on Shrinking the Inner Critic in Complex PTSD (that is, reducing the volume of the voice that screeches unpleasantness at you when you feel ashamed or scared).

As a note: this website looks VERY mid-2000s (which I kind of love). Most of the resources you want will be in the right-hand column full of links. Some of those links will open new pages, and some will automatically try to download a PDF of the article you want to read.

5. Warmlines:

This is something I just learned today - if you’re feeling really lonely and sad, but you’re not in immediate crisis, there are warmlines you can contact! These seem to be numbers where you can call (or sometimes text) to talk with a counselor or trained peer when you need support and connection. I can’t vouch for any of these numbers personally, but as someone who has definitely thought, “It’s not bad enough to REALLY need help,” I think this is a fabulous idea. Here’s a list of warmlines you can check out in the US.

6. Specialized hotlines:

There are lots of good crisis hotlines out there, but some may be better for your needs than others. For one thing, if you’re feeling seriously suicidal, it’s good to know the policies of the hotline you’re calling. In my opinion, everyone deserves bodily autonomy and the right to refuse care; for that reason, I think it’s important to know the policy of the hotline you’re calling as to whether or not they’ll call emergency services without your consent. Everyone has to make their own judgment call on this one, and I’m a little too (lightly!) triggered to go deep into my analysis on this right now, but I wanted to flag that it’s something to be aware of - if you’re going to call a hotline, you can try to look up their policy on calling emergency services before you contact them. You could probably even ask them in the beginning of the call. (A script: “Before we start, can you tell me what your policy is about contacting emergency services on behalf of callers?” If this is true, you can add: “I’m having some feelings of [suicidality/self-harm], but I’m safe and am not in danger of hurting myself or others.”)

With that in mind, here are some hotlines that seem promising to me, in no particular order:

A. For queer and trans folks in general:

Trans LifeLine

Available in the US (1-877-565-8860) and Canada (1-877-330-6366)

Available in English and Spanish

Will NOT call emergency services without your consent (you can read more about this policy on their website, including here)

Peer to peer support for transgender and questioning folks; also, microgrants (small amounts of money) for trans-related needs!

Does not offer text/chat-based support

I’ve never used Trans LifeLine myself, but I’ve heard excellent things about it from peers who have.

The Trevor Project:

Support from trained counselors for queer, trans, and questioning folks

Definitely available in the US; I’m not sure where else.

Offers support via phone (1-866-488-7386), text message (678-678), and online chat (link here - scroll down to Start Chat)

Also offers an online peer support space, TrevorSpace, for folks ages 13-24

Their site says, “In very specific instances of abuse or a clear concern of an in-progress or imminent suicide, Trevor counselors may need to contact a child welfare agency or emergency service.” When you click Learn More, it takes you to their Terms of Service (informative, but in legalese that might be hard to parse if you’re in crisis).

Again, not a service I’ve used myself, but I’ve heard good things!

B. For BIPOC folks (Black folks, Indigenous folks, and people of color more broadly), especially those who also hold LQBTQI identities:

Call Blackline:

Available via phone or text (both at 1-800-604-5841)

Available for people in crisis. Call Blackline can also help connect you with local community organizers and officials if you need to report a negative, inappropriate, or physical interaction with police, other law enforcement, or vigilantes.

From their website:

Call BlackLine® provides a space for peer support, counseling, reporting of mistreatment, witnessing and affirming the lived experiences for folxs who are most impacted by systematic oppression with an LGBTQ+ Black Femme Lens.Call BlackLine® prioritizes BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color). By us for us.

Here’s what I found regarding their policy on emergency services:

You do not have to provide any personal information to use the service. All calls remain private and will never be shared with law enforcement or state agencies of any kind.

Of course, a BIPOC person can contact any hotline for support, but for people dealing with racism, anti-Blackness, and other specific bigotries, I can very much see the importance of talking to someone who shares or understands that experience.

C. For folks processing bad psychedelic trips:

Fireside Project:

This one is something I didn’t even know existed! They do call- or text-based support (1-623-473-7433, or 1-62-FIRESIDE) for people processing psychedelic drug experiences, available 11am to 11pm Pacific time. I don’t have a ton more info, but their site seems really interesting and like they’re serving a unique need.

7. A soothing distraction:

One of the glories of the internet is the fact that it enables us to conjure up images of kittens at a moment’s notice. In that vein, I want to offer up a VERY cute distraction: Peptoc is a hotline (1-707-873-7862, or 1-707-8PEPTOC) where you can hear encouraging messages in English or Spanish from kindergarteners. How sweet is that? (Thanks to the wonderful @newbornwhumperfly for this suggestion!)

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Beloved whump community, I want to know about things that help you when you’re struggling. Please feel free to share them if you want.

And, Moya - we’ll miss you so, so much, even those of us (like me) who didn’t know you well. May your memory be an absolute blessing. <3

(I was going to put this in the tags, but oops, it’s going up here - I really hope this post will be helpful to someone, but it was also helpful to me to build. I feel better in a crisis when I can find a way to help - it’s how I soothe myself when I’m sad or scared. I really hope this doesn’t seem preachy or self-aggrandizing - it’s really just me processing-processing-processing. <3)

One more note: if this post makes you think you might want to follow my blog, you're totally welcome, but you should check out my note here first. This is not a DNI list; it's just a heads-up about my content, which could be inappropriate or triggering for some people.

#whump community #how to be a person in the world #ways to stay afloat #suicide mention cw #suicidality mention cw #self-harm mention cw #resources for taking care of yourself #bel talks #touchstones #sorry another disclaimer but also i know my experiences are not universal #my feelings might come from a really different place than other people's feelings #idk for instance if any of the shit in this post would have been at all useful to moya #but I'm sharing it anyway in case it's useful to SOMEONE

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aphroditedahlias · 19 days

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What if Bully Eren Victim is self-harming because of him or even worse commits suicide?

Yandere bully eren x self h4rming reader<33

woahhh, never wrote anything like this before, but i gave it a try! ps. masterlist updated!!!

TW : Self harm, skin carving, blood, and light non con ( not full scene)

This is a little short and not proofread lolololol the last time i posted a fic was in july 2022 so if this is trash lmk.

The heat of your room is suffocating as you drop your bag and tug at your jacket. June is approaching and a new month means new opportunities to wear cute new outfits for most people. You on the other hand have no choice but to make the awkward switch from heavy winter clothes to lightweight winter clothes. The ugly lines that cross your arms , stomach , thighs, and even hips are stinging reminder of why you couldn’t even think of wearing something other than hoodies and sweats. Not only are they the only things that conceal your scars, they don’t tug and irritate them throughout the day which is another plus.

Eren had been feeling particularly irritable all week, naturally deciding to take it out on you. Although you finally made it through the week you flunked yet another test. Your grades have been taking more of a toll then ever, lowering your gpa to an unredeemable average. You were numb to the disappointment of your grades at this point and the only thing that allowed you to feel alive was the secret you kept tucked away in the privacy of your room. after grabbing your coping mechanism and taking off your sweater you slid down the wall, taking your time to enjoy the coolness of it against your too hot skin. Your thighs were running out of room. Faint lines cross your biceps and so today you’d decided on your lower forearm to bare the weight of your week. You lowered the blade and slowly withdrew your stress. As little beads of blood came about, each one releasing just a little of the darkness Eren had created inside you. You were so lost in your comfort and hurt you started and nicked yourself particularly hard when you heard banging at your door.

Quickly you threw on the sweater from today and made your way to the front door, looking out the peephole.

“ Open the fuck up y/n, what did i tell you about making me wait.”

Eren.

Your heartbeat double in pace. You wondered what would be your demise first, your heart stopping from fear of the angry look on Erens face , or the way you just knew he would choke you out for making him wait.

You swiftly swung the door open while midnight a small apology.

“ I’m sweating like crazy so why are you sitting in this hot ass house with that sweater on?” he sneered, using his t/shirt to wipe his upper lip dry.

“ i had the ac on in my room i got a little chilly.”

“ so why is it still so hot in here? and there’s no Ac in that fucking hell hole of a school and you still had it on today, what’s your deal.”

“ Nothing I-“

He interrupted you by kicking the door closed behind him and pushing you against the wall before lowering his face to your neck.

“ Mmm baby you smell good.” he said, licking your neck.

Panick arose once again becuase the broad daylight would allow eren to see everything. The last few times he’d assaulted you had either been in a dark empty class room or with the lights off in the dead night of your room.

Before you had the chance to protest he was pulling the sweatshirt off of you.

You both stood in silence as he peered closely at your body, watching as you began to subtly quiver.

“ Y/N, what the fuck is this? “ He seethed, grabbing your arm, not caring about the blood clearly still oozing form your open wounds.

You had no answer, and you kept your head bowed in shame.

He pulled you by the arm into your bedrock before pushing you down on the mattress.

Wasting no time he stripped you free of the rest of your clothes and examined all the scars you’d given yourself.

He laughed to himself as he flipped you over and pushed your head down into your pillows before pulling you up the hips.

“ Count ” he said.

you felt a harass smack and jolted forward, trying to escape the assault.

“ one!”

you silently said a prayer to anyone who would be looking down on you.

Smack after smack you counted and cried out.

Just when you thought it was over, you heard something click and felt the sharp coolness of something against your ass.

“ Eren? what-“ you said sniffling.

You let out a whimper as you felt what you know knew was a blade lightly digging into you.

The agony was much worse than anything you’d put yourself through , you skin had a second heart beat and you could feel the blood dripping down your legs concerniny fast. You cried and begged for him to stop but he paid you no mind as he continued carving your delicate flesh.

Minutes passed by and you swear that you’d lost consciousness, fading in and out of black a few times.

Eren chuckled.

“ I’ve thought about doing this so many times. You have no idea how many times i’ve fucked my hand, making my cock cum over and over until i was sore thinking about making you permanently mine.”

Still dazed and confused, you had no reaction to his words or to the shutter of a phone that meaning he’d definitely photographed his work.

His finger spread your lips, using his thumb to tease your hole before spitting into it. He didn’t bother much foreplay before impaling you his thick and veining cock.

“ Fuck.”

His voice dipped and his breathing got heavier.

He used one hand to rub at the little nub that had you quickly seeing stars from the pain and pleasure mixed together. He used his other hand to pull you up by the neck so that tori back was touching his. He kissed your neck hard, biting and suckling at the skin to leave even more bruises. Tears fell down your eyes and whines left your lips as he pounding into from behind. You could feel the blood starting to dry and crust up on your ass making it even more discomforting to feel his movements.

removing his hand from your clit, he picked up his phone from off your bed and flashed you the screen.

In big red bruised letters red

Erens whore.

His sultry voice was almost tuned out by combination your ringing ears and the slapping of his hips against your wetness but you still heard him in your ear

“ Your heart , body, and soul is mine. Your skin belongs to me, and the next time you think about cutting what’s mine you won’t live to regret it.”

Eren never made empty promises… if you’d ever decided to hurt yourself again, you’d be signing your death certificate.

Ask box is open, send in lots of requests because i’m gaining motivation to post!!!

TAGLIST - DM to get taken off!!

@kaykaylolz420 @hisokaswhoree @dabis0bitch @sad-baddie001 @sukunas-left-nut-sack @QueenMissFit @darkuni63 @bakugous-titties @darkuni63 @captainhoneythebunny @shintax-error @Bluetima @shinycherrysblog @Awhore4anime @kawaiipotatoxox @leeyumeko @lilsubbysblog @harmonyglitz @ebiharachan @iwaizumisbicep @acciodignity @gratisuna @itszero16@gloomiigloom @cuklordburning @denkis-sluttyboy @disgustingpunk @cookiesformytummy @moonlit-mizukage @maggiecc @sunasconcert @ebiharachan @l0v3m3xo @itsuki-yuuma @uwiuwi @karasukakikomi @simpxxslutxx @mrsushiwakaflaka @shadoweepingscream @werewolfsupersoldier @desiray562 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @neeheehe

@kaykaylolz420 @yumuramma @seraphqueen123 @meromelodi (all fics pls ) @shigamiryuk @hotwings0203 @ewsenpai-blog

#tw dark content #cw dark content #tw yandere #tw non con #tw noncon #yandere attack on titan #yandere noncon #yandere eren #yandere eren x reader #tw self destructive behavior #light angst #aot angst

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milliesfishes · 2 months

Text

Pray You Catch Me (Part 2)

[fem reader] contains: mentions of pale skin, cheating, suggestive, self harm (non-suicidal), manipulation, angst, innocent reader, reader cares to some level about snow. pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader summary: (au) you’ve been married to the president of Panem for awhile now, and you thought things were going well, until you find out he’s been cheating. (Chapter 2) author’s note: thanks for the love on chapter one <3 excited about this one. Series Pinterest Board

When Coriolanus had started to court you, he’d exhibited certain behaviors you’d taken note of. Some of them were regular things, but one stood out above all others.

He was possessive. One of his hands was always on your waist, or your thigh, wherever he could reach, wherever was appropriate for the setting. Whenever you were speaking with anyone at the events the two of you attended, especially if it was a man, he kept close watch. His gaze was sharp, piercing, and anyone could feel it on them even if they weren’t looking in his direction.

Every touch, every hint of protectiveness swam through your head as you laid next to him, back against his chest as he held you like a doll.

Sleep was not your friend that night.

Your mind was fully focused on the hand he’d put over you, how it had slid under your nightdress, resting on the skin of your hip, and your emotions ran wild, swirling around until sunrise when you finally landed on one. Anger.

The audacity he had to make plans to meet another woman for something so glaringly carnal and then come back to you, his obedient little wife, like nothing had happened. Your hand gripped the pillow under your head, feeling like you could tear it in half. The black nightdress you’d picked up felt like sandpaper on your skin.

Sitting up slightly, you looked over at him. The most powerful man in Panem, fast asleep, so vulnerable, so…human. His blond hair was a little messy, his breathing soft. Even now, he was annoyingly perfect.

Suddenly, as your mind wandered, it struck you that you had no idea how long he’d been seeing her. You knew it’d been at least once because he’d mentioned last time. This could have been years in the making, and you were just too naive, too stupid to see it. Hell, it could’ve started long before he’d begun courting you, and you’d been none the wiser. You hardly knew anything of his past, except what his being in the public eye afforded you.

The hand on your hip was heavy, like a weight, and you glared down at it. In the past, you would’ve allowed it, not wanting to wake him. Maybe you’d have even enjoyed the feeling.

But this was not the past.

In one motion, you shoved his hand off you, tugging your nightdress down and moving as far away from him as you could on the bed. You pulled the pillow out from under your head and put it firmly between the two of you, your back to him. It was a small act of rebellion, but it was all you had right now.

When morning came and the sunlight spilled through the windows between the wine red curtains, he’d awaken and wonder why he wasn’t holding you anymore. But he wouldn’t think much of it, likely figuring you’d shifted around in the night. He’d be confused, but it wouldn’t affect more than a few minutes of his waking mind.

It was all you had right now.

Several hours later, Coriolanus was gone for the day, and you tried to occupy yourself. It was not an easy task. It felt pathetic waiting around for him to get home, but you didn’t know what else to do.

Wandering into the closet you shared, you ventured over to his side, running your hands over his shirts and jackets, inhaling his scent. You’d never explored his things before, keeping to your dresses and heels. He’d never outright told you not to do this, but you assumed he didn’t necessarily want you to.

What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. It was the least you could do after what he knew hurt you.

You took a shirt off its hanger, pressing the fabric to your nose. Men’s cologne, roses. That was him. When you put it back on the hanger, you made sure it was a little less neat than before.

Now you were at his jackets, and you took a red one off the hanger, noting the pants it matched on a shelf, crisply folded. Going over to the floor length mirror, you pulled it on, smoothing it over your body. You were still wearing the black nightdress from the night before.

Wearing his clothes felt strange, but you liked it. It was…powerful. You put your hands in the pockets, turning to look at yourself from a new angle, when you felt a loose scrap of fabric. Lace.

Your eyes widened, a feeling of dread taking over as you hastily pulled it out. A stark black pair of panties, ones that did not belong to you.

Mind racing, you thought back to the last time he’d worn this jacket. A month ago, a fundraiser you’d attended. You remembered that night because he’d been unusually affectionate, pressing a kiss to your forehead when you’d leave to talk to a friend, his arm around your waist holding you close when he was speaking with a senator you couldn’t remember the name of. You’d felt…well, not loved, but cared for. Like maybe, just maybe this could be more.

But evidently he’d gone straight to her afterwards.

The staff of the mansion was discreet, and they wouldn’t dare ask questions if they found a pair of panties in his pocket. They’d have likely just put them right back where they found them after the jacket had been cleaned.

As all this hit you, your face crumpled, and you knelt on the floor of the closet, still holding the panties, and cried softly. It wasn’t real. None of it was real. You didn’t know why you were surprised he was stepping out on you, but it was the fact that he’d made you think he cared about you, and allowed yourself to care back.

You were just another pawn in his game.

Men like Coriolanus wanted to be adored, without risking their own necks. Let everyone else feel, be vulnerable, devote themselves. On some level you had known that before, but now…now it was glaringly obvious.

As was what you had to do.

You wiped your tears and took off the jacket, hanging it up right where he’d see it when he walked in. The panties were still bunched in your fist as you stalked out of the closet, heading for the bathroom. A plan was hatching in your mind, and you gritted your teeth, your expression dark.

Tossing the panties on the counter, you pulled out your curling iron and plugged it in. As you waited for it to heat up, you got out a washcloth, twisting it in your hands. It was your wedding anniversary today, so you knew for sure he’d be home tonight. That’s why he can’t meet her tonight-

Shut up, you told yourself, fanning a hand over the curling iron, making sure it was hot. You picked it up, inhaling softly. There was a moment of hesitation. Was it worth it?

Then you thought of the way your heart had fluttered when he pressed his lips to your temple, the way you’d smiled sweetly at him when he told you that you looked beautiful on his arm…

You shoved the washcloth into your mouth and brought the curling iron to your neck, pressing it down hard.

Perfection is attainable, you thought as you sat at the dining table, across from your usual spot. His place was set at the head, and you were often situated to his left. But tonight you’d requested you sit to the right, a subtle change that’d unconsciously put him on edge.

You looked ravishing, in a dress with a deep neckline, thin straps, and hardly any back. Deep red. His signature color. One you hadn’t dared to wear before. There was a rose between your fingers, and you were twisting it, eyes on the entrance to the dining room.

At last, he appeared, as handsome as ever, his face serene. There was little reaction to the sight of you, but it was there, and you relished in it.

“Dove,” he greeted, coming closer. You made no move to stand and welcome him as you usually did, instead looking up at him innocently, the end of the short stem of the rose in your mouth.

He sat in his chair, eyes on you. “Your dress…”

“Oh?” You looked down at yourself as if it were nothing. “I found it in the back of the closet. I know you usually like me in black…” you let that statement hang in the air for a moment. “...but it’s a special occasion.”

Coriolanus watched you, something you couldn’t pinpoint in his eyes. “I was only going to say you look lovely.”

You merely smiled at the compliment, setting the rose down in front of you, your hand beside it. He picked it up, his elbow on the table, kissing your fingers. “Happy anniversary, dove.”

Hating the little flutter your heart gave, you kept your eyes on him, a little smile on your face as you brushed your hair behind your shoulder with your free hand.

Immediately his eyes caught it, his expression growing cold.

The dark burn mark on your neck, bruising and almost looking like…

You looked innocently at him, taking note of the change in his face. “Dearest…?”

His grip on your hand was tighter. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”

Frowning, you kept your expression light, pretending not to know. “I don’t-”

“Your neck,” he hissed. “What the hell is that?”

You didn’t respond, only looked at him, your eyes blank like you had a secret. His silence was furious, and yet internally you were having a laugh. Cheaters are always paranoid that their partners are cheating. This was something you'd known when you burned your neck earlier, and the seed you’d planted was in full bloom. “Curling iron accident.”

You’d made sure to only slightly curl the ends of your long hair, enough that what you said was plausible, but not entirely believable. His thoughts were almost visible on his face. “You expect me to believe you burned yourself?”

“You can ask Lisa,” you said, referring to one of the maids. “I rang for her to bring me ointment.” This was true, you’d called her in tears, showing her the mark. She’d applied enough medicine to stop the pain, but nothing except time would make the mark completely go away.

But you knew how his mind worked. He knew maids could be bribed, and pain could be fabricated. And you’d orchestrated it so it’d be frustrating for him to get to the bottom of this, because he already was at the bottom. His paranoia was almost too easy to manipulate.

“If I find out you’ve been with another man…” Coriolanus’ voice was quiet, the tone change making his words lethal.

You leaned forward, pulling your hand from his grasp. “And what if I am?”

His cold expression betrayed some surprise as you stood up, looking like a goddess with your hair spilling over your shoulders. In his usual color preference, you looked powerful, dangerously beautiful. “It’s hard to tell, Coriolanus. You work long hours. Spend a lot of time away. Maybe…just maybe, I could’ve gotten lonely. Maybe I could’ve needed someone to keep your side of the bed warm…”

In an instant, he stood, pinning your hands to the table and leaning over you, his hot breath in your face. You kept your expression calm, looking into his eyes boldly. He glared at you. “You wouldn’t dare-”

“You’re right,” you cut him off. “I wouldn’t. That mark on my neck is just a burn...” He must’ve thought you were a good actress, but not good enough that he couldn’t see through you. It was almost funny how easy he could be convinced. It’d hardly taken any effort at all.

You wrenched one of your hands out of his grasp, taking his hand and sliding it up so his fingers were hooked on the slit of your dress, dragging it up and over toward your belly so the panties you were wearing were on full display. Black, lacy ones.

His eyes widened as he recognized them, and you stared at him, expression hard. His lips parted slightly, and his eyes rose slowly to meet yours. You said nothing, shoving his hand away, your dress falling back over your legs. “...care to tell me what these are?”

Coriolanus’ blue eyes pierced yours, and you didn’t let yourself be intimidated by him. He was the president of Panem…but he was still just a man.

“You know,” he said simply, eyes searching yours.

You only stared at him.

He exhaled, biting his tongue and looking away for a moment. “How long have you known?”

“I don’t see why that matters,” you said, folding your arms across your chest, your chin held high.

His expression was firm, but he nodded curtly. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

Silence.

Coriolanus kept his eyes on you. “I never meant to hurt you, dove-”

“Don’t call me that,” you said softly, sharply.

He exhaled through his nose, a sure sign he was angry. “You had to know this would happen at some point. This was an arranged marriage for-”

You interrupted him again. “It’d be one thing if you’d always been cold. If you’d kept your distance and stayed far away from me. But you convinced me that you cared about me. You made me look stupid.” Your eyes bored into his.

He was silent, still glaring at you, but it had weakened. The words hit him exactly where you’d wanted them to.

You stood up straight, stepping away from him. “I’ll be staying in another room from now on, so if you’ll excuse me, I need to move my things.” You’d already enlisted Lisa to help move most of them earlier, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Absolutely not,” Coriolanus grabbed your wrist. “I can tolerate your anger, but separate beds will not be suffered. Or did you forget your vows-?”

“Which you already broke,” you pulled yourself away from him, turning your back, giving him one last look at you in the dress. “I think sleeping in a different bed will be fine.”

He wasn’t used to being interrupted this much, and he stood in silence as you walked away. Just before you got to the doorway, you reached up, sliding the panties down your legs, turning and throwing them in his direction. “Here. I bet she’s missing these.”

And with that, you left your husband in silence, the last hours of your wedding anniversary lost to the aftermath of his infidelity.

Next part

#coriolanus x reader #coryo x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games #president snow #young president snow #milliesfishes #milliesfishes snow #married to young president snow #spotify #Spotify

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froggywritesstuff · 1 year

Text

boyfriend | yandere! j.d.

Pairing: yandere!JD x g/n!reader

Warnings: yandere themes, toxic and unhealthy relationships, gas-lighting and manipulation, self harm, non-consensual kissing, strangling, kidnapping, mentions of suicide mentions of anxiety, swearing (please don't read if you're uncomfortable with any of these), this isn't proof read

Fandom: Heathers

Request: me

A/N: i do not in any way support yandere behaviour, please understand that this writing is purely fictional, and should not ever be reenacted in real life

'Ring, ring, ring, ring, r-' a sickly feeling took place in your stomach at the sound of your alarm. Anxiety filled your body at the thought of going to school. You just couldn't bear another day of being with JD. Which was saying something, considering the majority of people who attended Westerburg High made it seem like it was their goal to make everyone's life a living hell. Yet you were sick to your stomach with anxiety at the idea of seeing your boyfriend of all people.

Quickly devising a plan, you stumbled out of bed, the lack of tiredness you felt was disturbing, considering you barely got a wink of sleep the night before. You pulled open your closet door, carelessly pulling out an outfit, and changing into it.

"Y/N, are you up?" you heard your mother shout from the dining area. Hiding the worried tone in your voice as best as you could, you replied, saying yes. You grabbed your school bag, slinging it over your shoulders as you made your way into the kitchen, quickly shoving a piece of bread in the toaster, before waiting for it to cook.

Maybe it was the overwhelming anxiety you felt, or the toaster was just taking an extra long time to do its job, but whatever it was made it seem like forever before the piece of toast popped out of the toaster. Anxiety took over as your mind raced, worrying about all the things that could potentially happen in the time it took for the toast to finish, ranging from your boyfriend appearing out of thin air and finding some new way to mess with you, or your mum asking you if you were ok, resulting in you bursting into tears in front of them and having to explain what was wrong or quickly think up an excuse. Finally, you let out a sigh of relief at the sight of toast popping up. You quickly grabbed the piece, wincing at the hot feeling against your fingers, before hurrying toward the front door.

Calling out a quick goodbye to your mother, you shut the door behind you, before turning to your side before hurrying around your house, re-entering through the back door. Lying to your mum didn't feel good, but you figured it was better than having to endure whatever would come your way at school. After a few weeks of dating JD, you found yourself almost always feeling unsafe at school. Always feeling like someone was watching you. Not one second would pass where you wouldn't feel the anxiety growing in the pit of your stomach at the thought of your boyfriend. At the moment, your home was the only safe place for you, but even then you still worried about JD magically appearing at your front door. Weeks ago, if someone had told you that you would be going as far as skipping school to avoid JD, you would've laughed in their face. JD, who you couldn't stop staring at the first day you saw him? JD, who always had butterflies swarming in your stomach from just one smile? JD, who always knew how to comfort you when you were down? JD, who you honestly thought was your true love? Well fuck me dead, JD's a fucking manipulative psycho.

You hated to admit it. But even more than that, you hated admitting that some part of you still loved him. He terrified you. He constantly made you feel worthless when you were with him, yet you still loved him? Over the span of a month he completely isolated you from whatever friends you had, manipulated you into thinking he was the only person you needed, manipulated you into thinking that he couldn't live without you; even going as far to hurt himself in front of you. Yet part of you wanted to ignore all of that, and live 'happily ever after' with him. You knew that could never happen with him. Happily ever after with JD didn't exist, unless you wanted to throw away your life.

With a sigh, you felt some of the weight lift from your shoulders as you dropped your school bag on the floor, kicked off your shoes before climbing back into your bed. You knew running wasn't the best answer to your situation, but it at least gave you more time to think about what you would do when you next saw him.

Since dating JD, you quickly learned that he was possessive. At first, you tried being positive, and found it endearing. Was the idea of someone liking you so much that they were a little bit protective of you so bad? No, it wasn't. But JD wasn't 'a little bit protective'. You figured that out when you would catch him glaring at anyone who looked at you, let alone talk to you. But whenever you tried bringing up his possessiveness, protectiveness, or even just the glaring thing, he'd become defensive and find some way to act like the victim, showing you the cuts on his arms and say that he's just scared of you leaving him.

So confronting him wasn't the way to go about it.

There wasn't much left of the school year left, so you considered ghosting him, ignoring him until he got the hint, not speaking a word to him so he couldn't even try and manipulate you back in a relationship. But even with that idea, you didn't know how far he was willing to go. For all you knew, he'd have no trouble cornering you with a knife in his hands just to be with you.

The sound of a car engine outside your house made you flinch and sit up from your bed. Your breathing was heavy as you hurried out of the bed and raced to the window closest to the direction from where the sound came from, sighing in relief to see it was just your mother leaving in her car.

Whatever relief you felt before instantly vanished at the familiar sound of a slushie being slurped through a straw.

"You know, when I didn't see you at school, I figured you were sick or something, cause why the hell else would you leave me alone. But now I'm worried you might just be avoiding me.”

Your heart hammered in your chest at the sound of his voice, and you didn't dare turn around to face him as you replied, "Get out of my room." your voice was calm, contrasting to how you were feeling.

”So you are avoiding me.”

”I just don’t wanna talk to you right now.” you contemplated saying ‘right now’ but figured it was probably the safest option.

Your blood boiled at JD’s scoff, “I’m your boyfriend, Y/N, why the fuck wouldn’t you wanna talk to me?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You turned around, facing JD with a glare, “Well I don’t want you to be my boyfriend anymore!” you shouted, an uneasy feeling forming in your stomach at how unfazed he looked at your comment.

”That’s crazy, you don’t-“

”Yeah, I fucking do! You-you’re manipulative, you’re controlling, I-I can’t remember the last time I felt happy being with you!”

His confidence faltered at that, “What do you mean, you’re not happy with me? Of course you’re happy. You love me.”

A shaky breath escaped your lips, “I do. But I know I shouldn’t. You’re a really bad boyfriend JD. Which is why you need to leave.”

You felt a shiver throughout your body as he set down his slushie and began walking toward you, “I'm not gonna leave, Y/N." your throat tightened when he came closer, backing you up against the wall, his cold hands cupping your face tightly as if to let you know you couldn't leave. You couldn't run or avoid him this time. Just the thought of that made you feel sick, "I'm your boyfriend. Which means I won't leave you. And you won't leave me either." with that, he smashed his lips onto yours, your muffled cries of protest only making him deepen the kiss. Your hands wrapped around his wrists, desperately trying to pull them off your face, using your nails to dig into his skin, until finally he pulled away, looking at you with a smile, making you feel even more uneasy.

"What's wrong, darling?" he asked, his innocent tone making your blood boil.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you shouted, hot tears streaming down your face.

"What's so wrong with wanting to kiss your partner?" he asked, his smile turning to a smirk at your upset expression.

Gathering up all your strength, your hands pushed against his chest causing him to stumble, giving you enough time to sprint past him and through the door. You figured you must've been pumped up on adrenaline from how angry you felt, because you knew you'd never be able to push him off of you like that under normal circumstances.

You ran as fast as your legs could take you down the hallway. Heart racing, you feared you'd never make it to the front door. You didn't want to think about what would happen to you if you didn't.

You reached your arm out in front of you, gripping onto the door knob and pulling open the door, before it was immediately pushed shut. You winced as you saw JD's hand pressed against the door. Reluctantly, you turned around to face him. He didn't look like he was gonna open the door anytime. With a tired sigh, his hands slid down to your neck, his grip gradually getting tighter.

"You know, we could've just talked this out like a normal couple would, but you're the one who ran away from me. You brought this on yourself, Y/N."

Your hands began scratching at his as you felt the air slipping away from you. Every move you made to push him off you was futile against his strong grip, and you swear he was smiling because of it.

"Don't worry though," he began, "I'm not gonna kill you. I'd kill myself before I'd let you die." So far you were still worrying, "I just need you to be unconscious so I can take you away from here." He definitely wasn't very good at calming you down.

His figure became blurry and you couldn't tell if it was from the tears in your eyes or if you were starting to go unconscious.

You couldn't even react when he let go of your neck, letting you fall to the ground as your head collided with the tiled floor. Black began crowding your vision, and JD's voice filled your ears before you finally went unconscious.

"I'm gonna take good care of you, Y/N. Like a good boyfriend does."

buy me a coffee <3

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wangxianficfinder · 8 months

Text

In the mood for...

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1. Hi! This is weirdly specific but I’m looking for modern AU fics set in China, written by Chinese authors preferably because I’m hoping to find the very accurate, realistic representations of China, with all those little “daily life” details that make the setting feel more real. I hope this makes sense, and thank you in advance for your help! ❤️

There's definitely Chinese diaspora collection(s). Give me a minute and I'll see if I can find some for #1 Like this one

I am not sure how many of these are set in China but it's a collection of non canon-set fic recs made by Chinese diaspora fans in two different Diaspora servers

this is another diaspora collection!

The Fifth Type of Non-Contact Force by Caixx (Not Rated, 83k, WangXian, Modern AU, High School, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Fluff and Humor, Actually Somewhat Canon, Mutual Pining, Horny Teenagers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Non-Graphic Smut)

oh #1 even modern day cdrama are not all that accurate for daily life stuff. If you're feeling like branching out from wangxian fic to a cdrama with modern china daily life vibes that isn't 100% romance. Can try "Heart of Genius" it's a time/parallel world travel to the past.

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2. Hello again!!! Thanks for the recs, they're so goooood! I recently read two fics that involve catfishing, how to fall in love with a catfish: a guide by wei wuxian (disaster rat) by bwyn, Yuisaki & we'll get him falling for a stranger (or a catfish) by sweetlolixoand I'm hooked! I'll definitely recommend them to everyone!

Ok so I'm craving for more catfish fics. Preferably wangxian but I'd love Sangcheng or Xicheng too! Thanks again ❤️ @dizzydandelionsandhyperhydrillas

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3. ITMF: I'm very, very picky about modern aus but figured I'd give it a try. I want a modern au where they're already adults, it's angsty, and they're in character. My fave is when the angst kind of mirrors canonverse (ie WWX being "disowned," framed for something or disappearing, miscommunication, whatever so long as it isn't kind of just random melodrama) but I'll also just accept if the angst is in a breaking up -> getting back together/exes to lovers arc. Sorry if this is too picky!

These Things Stay the Same by notevenyou (E, 29k, WangXian, Modern AU, Kid Fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character DeathInjury, Natural Disasters, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hospitalization, Accidents) kinda

These all involve breakups/canon-level misunderstandings:

Tempo Rubato by Spodumene (E, 107k, WangXian, Modern AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Romance, Persuasion au, Separations, Mutual Pining, Depression, Miscommunication, Emotional Roller Coaster, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Reconciliation, Eventual Smut, Jane Austen Fusion, Underage Kissing)

💖 Pentimento. by orange_crushed (E, 73k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, art conservation, museums, pining, not actually unrequited love, angst w/ happy ending, misunderstandings, smut, major character injury, hospitalization, hurt/comfort, past incarceration, forgery)

Waiting for Spring series by thievinghippo (E, 225k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, slight angst, Happy Ending, for a baseball fic, there’s not a lot of baseball, Sports, Baseball)

Dirty Little Secret by ilip13 (E, 67k, wangxian, Modern, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unreliable Narrator, Post-Break Up, Friends with benefits / Exes with benefits / Fuck-buddies, Implied Cheating, Also possibly some cheating kink, Self-Worth Issues, WWX is strong with the self-hatred here, trigger warning: suicide and mental illness (background of minor character), Graduate Students, Liberal use of the word 'fuck', Semi-Nonlinear Storytelling)

The Right to Care by travelingneuritis (E, 61k, wangxian, Modern, Mood Whiplash, musician LWJ, nanny WWX, Developing Relationship, Breakup, Texting, Pining, Eventual Happy Ending, Adoption, Child Abuse, abuse intervention, Miscommunication)

moonlight falls Series by RoseThorne (T, 19k, WangXian, Modern, Found Family, Corporate Espionage, Bunnies, Adoption, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, References to Depression, Anxiety, Blind Character, POV Third Person, POV WWX, Confrontations, Bad Parent LQR, Dissociation, Mental Health Issues, Anniversary, Food, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Emotional Constipation, Communication Failure, JC is Bad at Feelings, JC is Trying, WWX Needs a Hug, Implied/Referenced Sex, Food Sex, Friendship, Reconciliation, Psychological Trauma)

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4. Hey, any fics where wwx's (and lwj's) parents are alive. Absolutely no omegaverse thanks

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5. Hi! I’m looking for modern AU wangxian and I’ve searched far and wide for new ones. I don’t have anything specific except I looking for multichapter / longer than 15K! If there’s anything not talked about enough and AMAZING or something new etc. If there are any authors that write modern AU wangxian I’d love to know. Thank you so much for your page!

once upon a time, 很久很久以前 by gentil-minou (Flyingsuits) (M, 40k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Canon Divergence, Transmigration, of the townwide variety, Amnesia, of the nearly everyone variety, Mystery, of the shenanigans variety, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, Single Parent LWJ, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Minor Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending) this is my fic, it's modern au and pretty new. still ongoing though, idk if that's a turn off for you

Just Ask Me To Stay by mrcformoso (M, 20k, WangXian, Modern AU, Former JZ/WWX, Minor NieLan, Minor XuanLi, No Powers, Dancer WWX, Musician LWJ, Roommates, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Break Up, Post-Break Up, Recovery, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, Fluff, Light Angst, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Domestic Fluff, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Has a Breeding Kink, Size Queen WWX, Belly Bulge, Porn With Plot, WWX Has Friends, LWJ Has Friends, Hurt/Comfort, A lot of comfort, Romantic Comedy, Cuter story than the summary makes it out to be, Feel-good) bestfriends to lovers and oh my god they were roommates.

eyes closed for you by soultana (E, 36k, wangxian, modern cultivation, POV LWJ, Cultivator LWJ, WWX is a spirit/yao, Dreams vs. Reality, basically WWX haunts LWJ's dreams (lovingly), Sexual Tension, Pining, YLLZ is misunderstood, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, WWX is a Tease, Getting Together, Supportive LXC, LQR Is So Done)

take my hand, will you share this with me series by doodlebutt (E, 137k, wangxian, JC/WQ, Modern, figure skating, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Major Character Injury, Recovery, Getting Together, Background Pregnancy, the mortifying ordeal of Talking About Your Feelings, sexually tense pair skating, and tbh. sexually tense everything else too, past trauma, public displays of affection aka canon wangxian behaviour, u dont need a sex tape when the cctv footage is Right There!, There Was Only One Bed, Pre-Relationship, TEEN WANGXIAN MY BELOVED, Semi-Public Sex, sleep deprivation and irresponsible decisions can be sexy sometimes, with additional warnings in start note, Domestic Fluff, Burnout, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, BSSR knows everything, angst! softness! tender yearning!, demi wwx)

Players gonna play by Scrippio (T, 41k, wangxian, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, Modern, College/University au, Theater AU, Director WWX, Faculty advisor LWJ, grad student JC, Baker JYL, grad student WQ, Fluff, First Meeting, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Depression, WIP)

Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 108k, wangxian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX , caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war, WIP)

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9. Hi! Hope you guys are okay <3

For your next itmf, I was hoping you could rec me something a bit more particular? Something that highlights Yi Ziyuan's abuse and makes wwx leave the Jiang sect for good. And then as time passes YZY tries to bring wwx down, or just regrets doing what she did. Can be modern, or not, I really don't mind. I just wanna see genius wwx standing up for himself and getting the love and appreciation he deserves!

Thank you again!! 🩷 @flexible-racoon

💖 Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing) It's not the focus of the fic, but it does feature characters reacting to YZY's abusive treatment of WWX & has her try to bring him down after he leaves the sect, though that part happens late in the fic

Debts of a Child series by Hauntcats (M, 115k, WangXian, dark, YZY Bashing, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots of anger, JC Bashing, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters.)

If Wishes Were Donkeys by NightOwl1 (M, 61k, WIP, WangXian, SVSSS, Time Travel Fix-It, Case Fic, Mpreg, Fluff and Humor, Dysfunctional Jiāng Family, Bad Parent YZY, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Period-Typical Homophobia, Crossdressing, LWJ and WWX Have a Breeding Kink, It's All The System's Fault, Post-Canon, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Warning: JGS, Good Uncle LQR, LWJ and WWX Are LSZ's Parents, Inappropriate Humor, Family Feels) If Wishes Were Donkeys, kinda. YZY gets caught between her hatred of WWX and knowing he's talented when LWJ comes to get him to bring him back to Gusu as a bride, forcing her to accept a single copper coin and handing over the rights to all of WWX's inventions and blowing her top when it comes to light WWX's inventions are actually incredible

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10. Are there any fics that contain WWX resenting/hating on the Jiangs? Maybe he'd do revenge after he's out of LP or something similar with that would be ok

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11. itmf fics where JC is raising baby JL as a single parent. modern au preferred, but any is good! he could have support from others or not, but im looking for fics where he does most of the day to day parenting

To lurk, to lie in wait by trippednfell (M, 124k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Huli Jing, strangers to co-parents to lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Dragons, Kid Fic, teenage juniors, background NieLan, Angst with a Happy Ending, Case Fic, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Not Really Character Death, Fox Spirit WWX, Dragon LWJ, Blood and Injury, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note)

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12. For the next itmf, I’m looking for fics where wwx gets turned into child/baby @selkie-hi

found your writing on my wall by howodd5ever (T, 25k, WangXian, Accidental Baby Acquisition, De-aged WWX, in which jc and lwj have to learn to deal with each other, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Referenced Child Neglect, discussion of parental loss, child food insecurity, Case Fic, kind of, Nightmares)

no time for crying by Narci (T, 10k, WangXian, Wwx protection squad, Age Regression/De-Aging, Kid!WWX, kid!lsz, night hunt gone absolutely right, (lowkey golden core fix it), Fluff, Angst and Feels, Humor, Juniors)

grow by cafecliche (T, 14k, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Character Study, Post-Canon, [Podfic] Grow by jellyfishfire)

❤️ in case of fire, break glass by Jenrose (T, 65k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Genius Inventor WWX, No Women Die, Background XiYao, Second Chances, unless they're too evil to save, Canon-typical Temporary Major Character Death, First Time) this has some physical deaging via time travel

A Tiny, Untimely Mess by Hauntcats (T, 26k, WIP, WangXian, Child WWX, Canonical Character Death, Accidental Baby Acquisition) this is a WIP

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13. I've had a craving for a D&D AU for a while, but haven't come across any of them naturally so far. I don't mind it being them playing D&D, but preferably it would be a D&D styled fantasy AU. I just want silly Wangxian in Faerun tbh. @littlemintrose

🧡 Where’s Your Emergency? by trippednfell (M, 64k, WangXian, 911 Dispatcher WWX, Single dad LWJ, Kid fic, Modern AU, D&D Games, Angst with a happy ending) has WWX as a D&D player, and he creates characters based on himself and LWJ (and later creates his own fantasy D&D game)

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14. Itmf wwx's motherly instincts towards his ducklings pls

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15. Hi! I love love LOVE fics where Lan Zhan gets badly hurt and Wei Ying gets all protective over him. Bonus if Wei Ying goes all angry/dangerous to those who hurt Lan Zhan. Basically any fic where Wei Ying is protecting Lan Zhan who is in a bad situation is welcome 😂 Do you have specific tags or posts like that? @acklesforlife

❤️ Rabbit Heart by Suaine (M, 57k, wangxian, yearning, family issues)

moonlight caught in mutton fat by Raitelzen (T, 45k, WangXian, Case Fic, Curses, Curse Breaking, Transformation, mild body horror, Hurt LWJ, Ghosts)

the field meets the wood by astronicht (T, 7k, WangXian, BAMF WWX, slight whump, Ritualistic Self Harm, Canon Era, Tang Dynasty style, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, salt economics, Post-Canon, [Podfic] the field meets the wood by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona), [podfic] the field meets the wood by jellyfishfire)

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16. hello! nothing in particular, just wangxian fics where lwj calls wwx his airen (i read it once in a fic and i am obssessed)

what price is duty, what cost is love by thunderwear (G, 18k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, WWX was never adopted by the Jiang Sect, War Prize, YLLZ WWX, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, First Time, Falling In Love, eventual dramatic confessions, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Stop (But please don't) by Silvers_Hidden_Corner (Silver_Flame_2724) (E, 1k, wangxian, Dubious Consent, Somnophilia, technically non-consensual somnophilia because they didn't discuss it beforehand, Bite Kink, Overstimulation, Size Kink, Strength Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Belly Bulge, Dirty Talk, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot)

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17. Hello there! First of all Thank you for all the fic that all of you have recommended, it was very helpful and interesting. Please take care of yourselves well.

For the next ITMF, i would really appreciate if you could recommend me something that is truly heart-wrenching. I want fics that will destroy my feelings and heart.

Thank u so much! Have a great day.

When the Words Stop Coming by mrcformoso (T, 7k, wangxian, major character death, Canon Compliant, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canonical Character Death, Love Confessions, Rejection, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma, WWX confesses early on, But canon still happens, LWJ starts confessing after, but the tables have turned, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad, LWJ rejects WWX, Then gets rejected by WWX after, "Get Lost") because I love breaking and mending hearts apparently

New Perspective series by mrcformoso (T, 35k, wangxian, LSZ & LWJ, WN & WWX, LSZ & WWX, LJY/LSZ, major character death, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Fatherhood, Regrets, Flashbacks, POV LWJ, LWJ-centric, Canonical Character Death, Pining LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings, LWJ Needs a Hug, Character Development, Dead WWX, LWJ deals with the death of his love, And learns to be a father along the way, Introspection, Feelings, LWJ is Bad at Feelings, Character Study, Regretful LWJ, Breaking Toxic Cycles, Canon Compliant, LWJ in Seclusion, Post-LWJ in Seclusion, Child LSZ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence but only the ending, Because can we agree that The Untamed Ending was bull, LWJ regaining Wei Ying's Trust, Golden Core Reveal, Good LSZ; Snippets, Post-Time Skip, Love Confessions, Requited Love, Trust Issues, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, WWX Has No Golden Core, Jealousy, Fierce Corpse WN, Protective LWJ, Post-Canon, WWX Has Chronic Pain, WWX Has Issues, WWX has Phantom Pain, WWX was Malnourished, Sad LWJ, POV WWX, WWX is always cold, migraines, Suicidal WWX, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Suicide, mirror therapy, Good Friend NHS, Crying, WWX's body is normal but he still feels as if it isnt, POV LSZ. Found Family, Toxic Elders, Growing Up, The Lan Juniors, LSZ's parents suffered, And so he starts a revolution, Bringing about change, LWJ Adopts LSZ, WWX is LSZ's Parent, LSZ is a polite menace, HGJ raised an army of Lan rebels and we're here for it, Good Uncle WN) can guarantee has made multiple people cry

to the act of making noise by words-writ-in-starlight (WordsWritInStarlight) (G, 19k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, inquiry, Music, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, CQL Verse, [Podfic] to the act of making noise by Ceewelsh, flamingwell, kisahawklin, Rionaa) This one is totally heart-wrenching (and heart-mending), bring your tissues! Gotta especially recommend the podfic version, especially the one work music added. Absolutely shreds your tear ducts. The whole series is incredible tbh

Home Front by flamingwell (T, 1k, LSZ & WWX, Post-Canon, Angst, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Death, Qiongqi Path prison camp references, hence the referenced child abuse and death, Grief/Mourning, a lot of angst in a small package, War Crimes)

and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow by izanyas (E, 308k, WIP, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Rape Recovery, Unplanned Pregnancy, Discrimination, Slow Burn, the slowest burn imaginable, Violence/Gore, Child Abuse, Suicide, post-partum depression, a painful but gentle journey into the intricacies of bodily autonomy) one of the most heart-wrenching and disturbing fics I’ve ever read full stop. please mind the trigger warnings. it’s a/b/o but is very much a dark fic that takes it very seriously, to the point that i would hardly consider it an abo fic anymore 😭 incredible world building and deals with themes of sexual abuse, discrimination and all those lovely things </3 unfinished atm but the author has plans to continue

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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