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deepspacenova · 5 months ago

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figured you out

1900 words. pining. possessive behaviour. sexual tension. obsession. light stalking.

{Dedicated to @mythblossoms and @spiderlilypetals aka the enablers of my mental instability}

Note: this entire thing is me basically calling out @rose-tinted-kalopsia, @unluckywisher, and @starmocha for setting off a Caleb-sized inferno in my brain and keeping the fire going for weeks now. All of you on my feed combined with the lyrics of this song are entirely to blame so here’s me getting Caleb out of my system (liar) xoxo

The barrier between focus and obsession was glass-thin and shaped like a trigger. One decision, one small flick of a finger away from shattering.

Obsession was an itch, fleeting, temporary. But focus? Focus was ambition, determination, winning.

That’s why Caleb had always been a creature of restraint, the very picture of self-control. As a boy, when he set his sights on something, he never burned with want. Wanting was purposeless.

Instead he would set his focus on whatever it was — sweets, trinkets, secrets, toys — until he found a way to make it his. Until he carefully maneuvered the object of his desires right into his little grasp.

Caleb didn’t wish, he didn’t desire.

He conquered.

Only this time, his focus wasn’t on a conquest. It wasn’t on a mission, or a lab data report, or a secret he could use to his advantage. It wasn’t power or strategy or survival.

It was you.

From the very beginning, you’d been the object of his focus. Your affection, your thoughts, your wit, your emotions. Everything that made you tick, he’d picked up and studied like the rarest gem.

And now? Now your fingerprints were sewn permanently into his heart, holding together the thing that beat in his chest. Now, he was light years apart from the boy he’d been, and yet you still gripped it tightly, your hand too small to keep that shriveled and charred, bloody mess together.

But the taste of your laughter, the sound of your skin, the feeling of your scent? Every moment of disorientation you created within him only served to reinforce his lifelong focus on you.

Military training, tests, experimentation chambers, nothing upended the center of his gravity like you.

From the dim hallway, Caleb watched you. His gaze — deep purple with motes of gold, an iris bloom washed in sunset — mapped the coordinates of your smile, measured the radar of your thumping pulse, calculated the precise trajectory of your movements as you fluttered around the small group of Hunters you were meeting with at the Association for a late night UNICORNS debrief.

You’d never understood entirely how you affected him. No one did, he’d made sure of it. Not your mutual friends growing up, not the woman who’d raised you, not the laughing fool you were talking to right now. Not even your Hunter partner across the table from you.

Caleb knew you better. Treated you better. He always had.

It’s because none of them actually took the time to see you, not really. Not like he did. And no matter how far apart you two got, that would never change.

You were an enigma to them, a cluster of ridges and buttons in a cockpit, unfulfilled in an amateur's grasp. Dormant without expert handling and care.

But Caleb had long ago solved you — your wants, your vulnerabilities, your secrets, your fears, your weaknesses. He'd seen you bared before him and had figured you out. Down to the very core in your heart.

Even within the darkest depths of the universe, with no sense or feeling, he would know exactly where to trail each of his fingers. How much pressure to apply to every delicate divot. The precise combination and rhythm to elicit a response.

The way he could guide you, command you, the way he could make you take flight for him? It would be… explosive.

The melody of your sudden laughter extinguished the heat that had started to lick its way down his body as he watched you give them the version of yourself they expected. Amiable, innocent, polished.

As your meeting came to an end and you and your colleagues stood to leave, the shadows shifted around Caleb as he pushed off from the wall he’d been leaning against. Pulling the DAA clearance card that had kept the door behind him open, he took a step into the corridor that would lead to his quiet exit.

Only he knew where your smile dented into your cheek. Only he knew the cadence of your breaths when you spoke. Only he knew what you looked like when your guard was truly down. When you sighed, cried, hurt, and slept. Only he was worthy of seeing it.

Only Caleb had forged himself into a man worthy of loving you.

The night was thick with fog when he watched you step out of the Hunter’s Association, your shadow dancing across the concrete under the warm glow of the street lamps.

As you parted ways with your colleagues, Caleb studied the elegant line of your throat, the way it expanded and contracted around the hum of your voice.

He knew the exact shape of it by memory, — all those times you'd looked up at him to smile at him, to talk to him, to argue with him — the softness of the delicate skin there, the way it would feel under his palm, under his mouth. Fluttering, warm, alive.

He wasn’t supposed to be here, not away from Skyhaven, not in a darkened alleyway by your workplace where the lamp light barely even reached.

But as the sound of your footsteps ticked over the hum of the city, as each of your movements brought you closer to the corner of the building, to him, the oxygen funneling into his brain seemed to thin, and the rational part of his mind, his focus, took a backseat.

The sight of you walking toward him was so right, so inevitable that Caleb barely even realized how far out of the shadows he was leaning, how quickly he’d snapped himself back into your orbit.

He, the metal, you, the magnet.

The fist of his right arm clenched as he forced himself to stay in place, to stop leaning toward you on the off chance the sweetness of your skin would enter his nose. The connection between you was so physical, pulled so taut, that he almost couldn’t believe you'd never sought to close the distance, that you’d ever accepted his death so easily.

That had always been your biggest mistake, though. Thinking that he’d ever allow something as trivial as mortality to sever what bound you to him.

He shouldn’t reach for you. He knew that. And yet, as you closed the distance, he stepped closer. Just enough to feel your presence pull against him.

His evol stirred, faint but insistent, brushing against the edges of your space like a ribbon. The pull of you was so familiar, so tangible, he could feel every cell, all the matter that made up your beautiful existence.

Suddenly, without his permission, his hand shot out, gently enveloping your wrist as you passed.

You spun around, your instincts awakened, and in one fluid motion the barrel of your gun was aimed at his chest. He almost chuckled at the sight, but the intensity on your face kept him quiet.

Your eyes widened, shock and incredulity clicking into place when they finally registered Caleb’s presence. “You…” the sentence withers in your throat.

“Hello, pip,” he said softly, raising a brow at the gun. “Still using that move?”

Your eyes flicked across the contours of his face like a laser, his hair, his cheeks, his eyes, his jaw, no detail escaping your notice before you stuttered, “C-Caleb? Bu— You’re supposed to be…”

He felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as the letters of his name curled around your tongue for the first time in what felt like an eternity. “I still might if you don’t put that away,” he said mildly.

Your grip on the weapon tightened reflexively, but it didn’t lower. Interesting.

Moving with military-like precision, too quickly for you to counteract it, Caleb’s hand shot out, hitting the gun and dislodging it from your grasp.

You froze, hooking your gaze into his as he tested the weight of it in his hand, the barrel pointing at your chest for one second, two seconds, three... before he aimed it at the ground.

“Tsk, tsk. So careless.” The soft click of the safety flicking on pierced the air between them. “Someone could’ve gotten hurt, pipsqueak.”

“How did you… how are you…?” there’s a faint tremor in your tone and your eyes turn glassy.

“Shh,” Caleb stepped closer, close enough to feel your shaky exhale against his throat like a wave of summer air, close enough to reach around you to place your gun back in the holster on your hip. Close enough that his forehead brushed yours. “I missed you too.”

For half a second, he saw your guard slip, your face caught between disbelief and longing.

And then, like feeling an engine ignite, he knew exactly which of your buttons he’d just flicked. Before the anger even had a chance to crackle across your irises. Before your palms came up to his chest and shoved at it. “I went to your funeral.”

“My funeral, hm?” His body had barely swayed, but his amused, love-drunk smile never wavered when he decided to press another button. “Did you cry for me, then?”

Caleb’s evol flared, and he had your hands lowered — eyelashes fluttering in surprise, back and palms pinned to the building behind you — before you’d even finished the thought of shoving him again.

With your hands out of the way, as you struggled against the bindings of his evol, Caleb finally took the chance to cup your face in his hands, cradling it like it was the very nucleus of his life force.

“Hey. Hey,” he soothed, re-familiarizing himself with the contour of your jaw beneath his fingers. “I’d never leave you in a world without me, pip, you know me better than that.”

“I thought I did,” you gritted out, the confusion and betrayal in your voice slowing your movements. "Now, I'm not so sure."

He took advantage of your hesitation, brushing the bow of his upper lip against the bump of your lower one.

“You do, though,” he reassured. “Just like I know you. Better than anyone ever could.” Caleb reached out, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “Your anger, your love” His hand went to the steel-chain tag that hung around his neck. “Wants. Needs.” His nose traced the bridge of yours and he reveled in another one of your shaky breaths. “Outside…” His voice roughened, “Inside.”

Just as you quit struggling, just as your confusion fissured and your body turned languid against his, just as you gave in, Caleb released you, taking a step back to enjoy the sight of you trying to find your footing.

“Now you’ll never doubt that I’ll always find you.” His mouth curved into the charismatic smile he was known to flash at his general when he gestured toward the street. “It’s late, pipsqueak. Get yourself home.”

Your chest heaved with what were no doubt a dozen of your favorite insults, but you didn’t voice any of them. Instead, you clenched your jaw, straightened your shoulders, and bit out, “I’m going to— I can’t believe— No, I can’t do this right now. This isn’t over, Caleb.”

You turned sharply on your heel, your footsteps echoing in the silence as you walked away, steps stiff and uneven. And Caleb watched as the shadows swallowed your figure and you disappeared from view.

He’d wait, he decided. he could play the long game. He already spent all these months away from you, what were a few more if it helped you realize the raw, unfiltered truth — that he belonged to you.

And that was the moment the glass barrier shattered, a pulled trigger that splintered his focus into shards of obsession.

#caleb has derailed the past five days of my life #but yes im totally normal about him why do you ask #lads Caleb #l&ds caleb #lnds caleb #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace fanfiction #lnds fanfics #love and deepspace #my writing #nova writing

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wandasaura · 1 month ago

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THERES NOTHING HOLDING ME BACK

summary — as the promise of summer begins to warm westview, you and wanda cherish the stolen moments of quiet before the chaos begins

warning(s) — established relationship, married couple, mayor!wanda, westview, dom/sub dynamics, stern!wanda, handy lesbian wanda, domestic dominance, subspace, slight sexual tension, teasing, oral fixation, biting, pet names, praise kink, cuddling, showering, light bratty reader, slight punishment (not really), whining/whimpering, kissing, agathario mention, fluff fluff fluff, men/minors dni

The warm sun was the thing you missed most about summer. It poured into your master bedroom, warmed the floorboards and the countertops in the kitchen when it became a heavy blanket over the countertops as the sun rose every morning to the East, which always put it right in the palm of your backyard. The sun sets to the West, toward the garage and barbecue area that she hosts people in at least once a weekend around during the riptide of warm weather and pre-planned activities on days off.

Summers with Wanda are always a circus. She’s the kind to cram as many days full of activities and genuine quality time as she can while the weather permits your sensitive bodies to slip outside without any pre-preparation or sacrifices. Heavy jackets and wool scarves weigh you down for a healthy majority of the year, but summertime is where Wanda makes up for all those date nights trapped inside by looming blizzards and flash flood warnings.

It’s hardly even begun, whatever season you’re in still balancing delicately between Spring and Summer. The low sixty degree days have ended officially, but the rain of springtime still haunts Westview days on and days off every time you think summer is officially upon you. It rained all last week, heavy downpours that flooded your backyard and the community park around the block, but the sky has cleared up and the ditches have dried out and there’s no chance of rain in the foreseeable forecast yet. It’s a good sign.

Yesterday, you’d helped Wanda take the cover off the pool leading up to your first official summer party that always happened on Memorial Day; rain or shine. She always did fall into her head when she had a project to manage and directions to throw around — mostly to herself, but sometimes she called you in for assistance. You lost her to a craft often, whether that be painting, or gardening, Wanda was a women easily lost in the things that she cherished. That included you. Your body, your mind. If something could be undone and put back together in her hands, Wanda Maximoff knew how to play it, and you were her favorite hobby to fall into.

In the wake of removing the cover from the twelve-foot in ground pool, salt water of course because Wanda was particular at best on her good days, and running out with her to the chemical supply store to pick up whatever was necessary to shock the water system, something had been ever so slightly more tensed about her reserve. You truly had no clue what she’d dragged you all around town for, she was the one who wanted the pool and knew all the right was to keep up with it from months of research, but you knew that nothing had gone wrong with any sales associates to put her in a bad mood. It wasn’t even a negative tension in her jaw, it was just pressure that had no reason to exist.

It followed you everywhere after that. That pressure in her jaw, how her eyes became clouded with something akin to glittering specs, you knew exactly what it was once you’d unlocked the front door and she’d told you to leave your shoes by the bench like it was second nature to remind you of the rules you’d enforced in your house.

You weren’t with her on that playing field, not when your day had consisted of the typical workload before you’d come home early to help assist her, but you let her have her moments when she couldn’t seem to control herself anymore. You sat beside her at dinner instead of across the table at the head, giggling with your hand in hers as she spoke some love-drunk poem at you from memory. You cuddled in close on the couch, which wasn’t something different, but Wanda held you tighter when she was wrapped up in dominance. It wasn’t possessive, but it had more passion behind it than any embrace she gave when it was just the two of you against the world together; equals in your dynamic and more best friends than true wives even on your worst days.

You’d fallen asleep with your head on her chest and a smile on your lips. You’d known Wanda was still wide awake when you closed your eyes, deciding that you were just going to rest them instead of staring straight ahead at the reflection of her side profile in the window pane. You’d just cleaned the master bedroom, pulled out the swiffer and the squeegee and all because the sight of pollen collecting on the baseboards was nauseating. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the soft rubbing of her hand on the small of your back was lulling, and Wanda knew what she was doing even if you weren’t nicely in the palm of her hand, all small and pliant the way she liked.

When you woke up, Wanda was already gone. She never did sleep well when you let her marinate in that headspace, especially alone, always worried about hypothetical situations, always on edge, never able to find peace even though it’s always been just you. For a woman terrified of vulnerability, you find it both astonishing and inspirational that she seeks it out in her every day routine so fearlessly. It doesn’t bring you any comfort to know that she’s downstairs, probably making breakfast out of her restless energy, hands constantly moving, subconsciously counting down the minutes until you wake on your own, or it reaches an acceptable hour to wake you herself. She replaced her chest with the pillow you only use when she’s away, sprayed with just enough of her perfume for it to not be overwhelming.

There’s a longing ache in your belly, a desperate need to find her, to be with her, to be the thing that keeps her hands busy for a couple of hours. You’ve both been so busy lately, between work, getting the house in order for summer and the gatherings that it brings — you wouldn't have it any other way —, and party planning for Memorial Day, there had barely been a minute to steal where your energy could be focused on just each other. Last year’s party had been a hit, but sending Wanda and Yelena out for beer in the middle of the afternoon after you underestimated Tony’s gut had been a monumental waste of time. You’d be prepared for Tony’s gut and Natasha’s thirst for vodka this year, even if it meant crunching numbers trying to find the best premium price instead of washing dishes with your wife because this is what your life has come down to in adulthood; beer bargaining.

The hardwood feels eerily cold beneath the soles of your feet warm from hours tucked beneath thick blankets. It’s getting warmer in Westview now, the humidity’s rising with the tide and UV levels. You’re going to need to switch out the comforter for the quilt pretty soon, already feeling a sheen of dampness coating your limbs like your a blade of grass. It’s only sixty something outside, but you're gross and clammy. The floor is a tundra the farther you step, but when you get the the door, your hand bracing the brass doorknob, pulling it open with only Wanda on your mind, a wall of heat hits you and it dawns on you that nobody had turned the air conditioner on last night. A miserable pout frames your features, sealing your mood for the day whether you intentionally planned to hold the grudge or not.

Wanda’s coddling last night had apparently been working against you discreetly, beneath both of your noses and her soft caressing hands; though you suspect by the time you’d fallen asleep on her chest, clutching desperately to her silk bubblegum pink nightgown with white lace to frame the sweetheart neckline, she’d had an inkling of a clue at least. Your head feels head now, slightly disoriented. You can see through the fog, enough to get down the stairs without tripping, but everything else feels out of reach. It panics you for a moment. You never did like being alone in this state; in this… concoction of love and affection and utter hopeless devotion. It’s a hard thing to name, the rush of feelings that comes over you at one time until all you can register is the consistent sting of tears in your eyes and the sensitivity in your heart. Your head hurts, just a little, just enough for it to almost feel like the tickle of butterfly wings shooting through you. Anything can unmake you in this state. Anything can bring those tears to the surface, but just as easily as you sink into this feeling of weightless despair because you just love her so much, how can it even be possible, you can fall out of it, and that’s devastating. Wanda hates the days she can’t get to you fast enough to protect this headspace and feed it with hers. She hates when you're two ships passing in the night instead of the star bound lovers you were destined to be after enduring so much pain and suffering in your lives individually and as a couple.

Wanda has senses as sensitive as a bunny, though she would claim they’re as sharp as knives. The duality of her always confident persona is immaculate, because you can’t even conceptualize her soft curves having any edge to them as she bounces on her feet to face you. There’s no tail, but her hair is knotted into a bun, and it bounces at the nape of her neck when her head spins, eyes searching to meet yours, confident and strong but laced with desperation.

“Oh, hello.” It doesn’t take her a single moment to recognize the softness in the way you look at her, your hands curled into the fabric of your tank top that you’d stolen from her, that you think she’d borrowed from Kate after a paint and sip night at the Grove, who stole it from Yelena, who initially stole it from Natasha’s closet in high school. It had lived many lives, seen many phases, many tumultuous breakups and harrowing deaths. One day soon it’s destined to leave your position, to move onto Maria or maybe even Lila Barton whose grown to be quite tall since two summers ago when you acquired it, but for now you cherish being involved enough in Wanda’s life to have such a statement of her friendships in your closet. It brings another wave of tears to your eyes, and your lips quiver as your center of gravity betrays you.

You can’t establish which way is up or down. You can’t tell whether if you take a step forward it’ll lead you to Wanda, or if you’ll wander off into the middle of town disoriented and out of place. You wobble slightly on your feet, attempting to move, to get your brain working enough to complete the one task in your head, but she’s looking at you with so much power and affection and devotion and love that you can’t even begin to paddle with the tide to try and escape the ripe current that’s pulling you down deeper, deeper, deeper — you’re drowning in her.

“Come here.” She coaxes, seeing your desperate need for order, for tender direction and expectations. She’d been craving this since last night, since you’d let her guide you through the motions of removing the pool cover, since she’d bossed you around the chemical supply store and you hadn’t even seemed to notice that her grip on your hip was guiding and unavoidable. You hadn’t tried to get away from her to know that she’d been playing with fire ever since you got in the car and she’d buckled your seatbelt with a charming smile.

It takes a minute to register in your head that she’s speaking to you, that she’s given you something to hold onto and pull yourself toward her with. When it does click, when her words float to you on a kayak in the middle of Lake Superior, the sky a crystal shade of blue, probably straight out of Walt Disney’s Cinderella, your feet scramble to comply faster than your brain can process actually moving. You stumble over your naked feet, your toes painted yellow, soon to be stripped and painted white for the holiday and bikini attire event ahead, crashing into the floor.

Wanda giggles at your misfortune, and your lips crumble. “Oh, my love.” She says nothing else, she probably doesn’t know what to say other than the few million reasons why she loves you, why she thinks you're adorable, why its so sweet to see you cry because she knows you're quite literally overflowing with love for only her. Her ego is big, probably dangerous, but it’s so undeniably charming as she looks at you with a near predatory gleam in her sage eyes.

It doesn’t register in your head that she’s using small sentences because she knows anything bigger will overwhelm your system entirely, and she’s not keen on spending the entire day wrapped up on the coach coaxing you back to health like her little baby bird, though she would if it came down to it. She wanted to keep you like this though, on the cusp of knowing everything you’ve ever wanted is at your fingertips, and so absorbed with love you never thought you deserved to have that you can’t even think of anything but her without gentle coaxing. The way you crave her direction, the way you let yourself obey her just because you love her, and you know without a doubt she has your best interest at heart, even if she likes to take her own pleasure first sometimes. The point is, she can do anything to you, and that fills her with power.

When you do crash into her chest, it’s like everything in the world feels right. She’s already changed out of that nightgown, never one to prance around the house in those specific kinds of pajamas. She’s traded it out for a pair of soft shorts,your shorts, the ones you’d picked up from Walmart when you’d taken a trip out of town with Pepper because you couldn’t keep ruining your good biking shorts on hikes with Kate and Lucky. Fanny respects your lululemon shorts; Lucky thinks they’re a napkin. Her t-shirt is insignificant, one from the athleisure company she loves and you can’t pronounce. It’s not a tight fight, but it's the dry fit material that catches on the rough patches of your palms and you whine irritably when it does just that.

“Hey, shh. I need you to use your words, pretty girl.” The pet names do little to subdue the fog, or even slow it down the slightest bit, but you can gather enough that she doesn’t intend to make this easy for you. It’s the subtle cruelty that initially drew you into her, the pointed harshness and the delicate condescension that isn’t just disgusted by praise and sweet love, it’s entirely derived of it. Wanda Maximoff is a snarky little shit, but she’s the softest bleeding heart you’ve ever had the pleasure of being addicted to.

“I hate this shirt.” You huff, the diamond on your engagement ring snagging on the fabric next when you aim to drag your nails down her back petulantly, never knowing how to express your feelings in this state, opting for whatever's easiest in the moment. It drives Wanda crazy, but you’ve always persisted even after all these years together. “You have a bra on already.” You whine, head clearing, your eyes focusing as you realize that you’ve already slept through your chance at coping a feel while she sips her coffee that’s steaming on the edge of the counter.

In a single moment, both of your wrists are in Wanda’s grasp, her state level and what you would most definitely describe as menacing. A whimper rises in your throat, that sinking feeling claiming you again with something different, something more. It’s not just blind love that sends you floating down the river anymore, its submission; complete and total submission. The fight isn’t always long, but the satisfaction of winning never feels any less glorious to Wanda.

“I know you’re not trying to hurt me, ange. Are you?” She furrows her brows, feigning innocence. You swallow thickly, nodding your head, willing to do whatever she wanted if it meant she kept looking at you. “Words.” She corrected, tightening her grasp on your wrists until you whined, squirming in place. It wasn’t tight enough to hurt, hardly even enough to be anything but unrelenting pressure, but in your sensitive state it was enough to drive you crazy with overstimulation.

“No.” It’s a petulant whine that has Wanda clicking her tongue. She never did accept the whining and the whimpering with a reason, and there was no reason to be carrying on between her grip when you’re the one that had tried to sink your claws into her like a kitten. “I need water.” You tell her softly, cheeks flaming. You’d turned the air on in your bedroom last night, thankfully, though without the fan also running it did little to really keep you cool beneath the comforter, but what it did accomplish was spreading pollen throughout the bedroom even though you’d just cleaned.

”And how do you ask? Have you forgotten all of your manners overnight?” Wanda settles you with a glare, and you drop your eyes, sighing softly as you try to align your thoughts enough to answer her properly.

“Please.” You add, and she smiles proudly, leaning in to kiss your head before she ushers you to the counter. There’s already a stack of pancakes on a plate, cooling down though they’re still steaming just slightly. Enough to tell you they’re probably the perfect temperature to dive right in without burning your tongue. There’s a dry wheeze at the end of your plea, and Wanda frowns as she navigates the kitchen, throwing a glance back at you when you hum, fingers pulling apart a pancake that you dunk into the bowl of syrup she’s set out.

“Use a fork.” She chides, because even if you’d taken a shower last night and your sheets had been washed the afternoon before you’d gotten home from a meeting, the circulation of pollen through the room meant that everything needed to be washed, including your sleep and sweat flush body.

You complied easily, kicking your legs as you reached for the fork she’d set out, forgoing individual plates. After years of practice, she’d finally figured out how to make just enough pancakes for the both of you to eat comfortably, filling in the gaps with fruit on days when your appetite was bigger than your eyes. Sometimes she made eggs, or sausage patties, but neither one of you felt like standing around the kitchen today when the sun was shining brightly outside.

“Do you want tea?” She asked softly after she slid a glass of water across the counter, smiling delicately at you when you eagerly gulped down half of its contents, the heavy pancakes and dryness in your throat an uncomfortable sensation. Your head bobs at the offer, and Wanda doesn’t chastise you for forgetting your words this time, laughing amusedly as you shovel another bite of pancake into your mouth before she can even turn her back to reach for a second mug.

She guides you through breakfast, occasionally feeding you a bite when you get distracted by tracing your fingers up her thigh. She leads you up to the shower when the dishes are piled up in the sink, stored away for sometime later on in the day when you have the patience to wait for her and she has the control to be away from you. It’s been too long since you’ve given over yourselves like this. Since you’ve just existed in the same space to keep each other afloat.

Wanda washes your hair in the shower, coaxing you through the process when she accidentally gets soap in your eye, your head not tilted back far enough to accomodate the stream of water pouring down your face. The coconut scented conditioner cleared both of your heads, but when it was paired with the watermelon body wash with moisturizing pearls, it sent you into endless bliss, your nose buried in Wanda’s neck as she let the stream do all the work in washing off your bodies.

When she got down on her knees, your core tightened, but all she offered you was a cheeky smile as she reached for the razor and shaved your legs, knowing that you liked to keep them smooth for optimal sporadicness during the summer months. Her hands had lathered you so dutifully with the vanilla cashmere shaving cream, adding to the medley of scents in the steam filled bathroom.

She giggled when you wiggled away from her fingers attempting to tickle your ribs when you raised your arms for her to get the rest of your body and preferred inches of skin, taking advantage of your easy vulnerability as she held you between her hands so intimately.

When you’d stepped out of the shower, shivering and teeth clattering even though Wanda had thrown your towel on the warmer by the door and wrapped you in it tightly, she’d insisted that you throw on your newest orange bikini even though you couldn’t take a dip in the pool until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. The UV wasn’t strong enough to provide any sufficient color to your pasty skin from winters unforgiving reign, but it was warm enough to accept the wardrobe and Wanda was good enough with that.

She lathered you up with lotion, and in turn she allowed you to put some on her, though she guided you through that process too, always telling you when she thought you missed a spot even if you hadn’t missed a single inch of her skin. It was all apart of her game, of making you feel like you needed her for every little thing.

By the time you wandered down to the kitchen again, dressed and ready for the free day ahead of you, your fingers laced with hers, it was time for lunch, already approaching half past noon. So, without missing a beat, Wanda packed up sandwiches and a container of cut up strawberries and pineapple and brought it outside to the hammock with her Stanley of water that she’d initially protested carting around with her every day, but after a game of White Elephant, she’d become obsessed. You loved the little things about her, but in these small stolen moments of magical worlds protected in your head, you noticed them even more.

You’d eaten your sandwiches sitting criss-cross on the grass. Wanda had painted your nose with strawberry juice that dripped onto her finger before your tongue accommodated the weight of a strawberry being placed heavily on the center of your outstretched tongue. There’d been a mischievous, wicked smile blooming on Wanda’s lips as your eyes hazed over you whimpered pathetically when she pulled her fingers away and told you to chew.

There was a truly sinister smile on her face when she told you to swallow, her thumb holding your chin, her fingertips feeling the bob of your throat as you did just that, remembering moments when it hadn’t been something as sweet as a strawberry rolled in pineapple juice on your tongue.

Somehow you ended up on the hammock, your body slotted between her legs, your head on her chest, her hands holding onto your ass. You watched the clouds roll by, and when your teeth sank into the flesh of her wrist when she moved a hand to brush baby hairs out of her eyes, her fingers pinched at your ass exposed by the cheeky cut of your bikini bottoms. You yelped, whining when she reprimanded you, sinking deeper into her until the sound of her heartbeat was enough of a distraction. Wanda rolled her eyes, kissing the top of your head as the hours rolled by.

Neither one of you noticed, too wrapped up in the quiet of the moment, in the serenity of your found peace in Westview. The only reason you knew it was time to go inside was because Agatha came out into her back deck with Rio, both of them bickering, cigarettes lit and their hair pulled up. Your head was clearer then, your smile softer but more present. Wanda’s head was clearer then too, no longer consumed with a need to make sure you knew you were hers. The need to fall into these roles would come again soon. The constant social exchanges, the planning, and the cleaning up, it would inevitably separate you until you exploded and ended up here, but for now you were content to fill the shoes of who you were at your core and through the eyes of the law; wives.

“How much do you want to bet Lilia’s going to file another noise complaint against them tomorrow?” You sighed when you stepped through the sliding glass door, settling into Wanda’s chest as you both lulled to a stop, not in any rush to keep moving and change into comfier clothes for the evening.

“She’s not even going to make it to the morning.” Wanda snorted, already anticipating the call from Westview’s most acclaimed Rio Vidal hater.

#wanda maximoff #dom!wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dom!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff oneshot

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miyamiwu · 2 months ago

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Why Xiao Yueqing had to die

Apr. 28, 2025: This post has been heavily edited to address stuff brought up in the notes and to expound on the existing points.

Not to excuse Li Haoling’s crimes against women, but after calming down from the episode and sleeping over it, I can now properly think about why Xiao Yueqing had to die.

I mean, I’ve expected her to die since that episode 1 ending. Li Haoling may like misdirecting the audience, but one thing he never betrays us for is following up on cliffhangers. There was no way he’d show us a bleeding Xiao Yueqing in a vision and not have it show up again.

But aside from justifying the episode 1 cliffhanger (and to have her leave an impact on a male character, sigh), Xiao Yueqing’s death also signifies something else—that heroes are forever bound by the Trust system (and the Association that helps enforce it). And the only way to break free from it is to give up that trust completely and openly.

Yingxiong Budao (Firm Man) got to retire from his hero job by kneeling down in public, completely breaking the people’s trust in him to be always standing.

Lin Ling was able to resist his believers’ wish to not respond to God Eye’s trap by going down with the mission to reveal his identity, giving up the Nice persona and forfeiting his trust value.

But Xiao Yueqing? She got her “freedom” by deceiving the public. She betrayed their trust. Something a hero should never do.

Sure, her leaving her teleportation gun behind may have been symbolic of her giving up her hero identity, but it’s not enough. Because the gun still works. The power of trust is still at play.

She used the trust placed on her not for the people but for herself. And look, I get it, the trust were shackles on her, but it doesn’t change the fact that she abused the people’s beliefs for her own desires.

Maybe that’s why E-Soul had to kill her. Maybe E-Soul was sent by the Association to eliminate heroes who abuse trust value for their own wishes.

Like, imagine if after Xiao Yueqing got her freedom, she suddenly turned evil and used that freedom to commit crimes all over the world. The people’s trust value would become her weapon. We know she won’t do this, of course, but I doubt the Association is gonna conduct a personality test on her first to come to that same conclusion.

The Association has three ways to deal with “criminals” like Xiao Yueqing:

Have her openly admit her deception in public and make her lose her trust value

Erase her memories

Or just kill her

Edit: With Lin Ling as the new rising hero, there was no way they’d go for option one. A negative image on Xiao Yueqing would impact Lin Ling, the new cash cow. Remember, those fangirls started paying attention to Lin Ling because they believed he was the one who cried during Xiao Yueqing’s death and because they saw him willing to risk his life for her. If Xiao Yueqing turns out be alive, then they’d start questioning whether his tears and love are real. Lin Ling’s trust value would be shaken.

And to expound on #1, I also mean to say that the Association just won’t do it because it would cost more resources.

Imagine the work it would take: Prepare a press conference for one hero, then damage control for the hit Treeman, Lin Ling, and heroes in general would take. There’s already been two cases of heroes deceiving the public (Blankster and “Nice”), and the recent villain’s entire shtick was uncovering their lies. If the people’s beloved goddess was also such a liar, would the public still want to believe in heroes?

They had to kill Xiao Yueqing not just for Lin Ling, but for the dignity of heroes as a whole. The Association can’t allow the people to be skeptical about heroes because that would impact their powers. This point had also been foreshadowed with the words of Gu Lang (Wolf Girl): “So to protect the egos of these so-called heroes, you’re going to neglect a living, breathing person right in front of you?”

Moreover, I just want to properly respond to what @naisikill brought up in the tags:

#still a little questionable on XYQ admitting to being alive making fans not trust lin ling #since she was already shown to be alive by god eye since he had her captured #(which ended up being fake but no one knew that at the time)

In episode 4, it was the fans’ strong belief that Xiao Yueqing was dead and that God Eye was just using a fake that prevented Lin Ling from going down to save "her." The fans had seen Xiao Yueqing die in front of them, and they had no reason to believe in the villain God Eye who’s had a bad reputation for always trying to defame Nice. And so they wished for Nice to not respond to the threat because they believed it was just a trap. If it was later revealed that what they believed in so strongly turned out to be another lie, then Lin Ling, as Xiao Yueqing’s accomplice, would undoubtedly take a hit.

Moving on to number two, it also can’t be done because Blankster, the one who can erase memories, just conveniently lost his powers early on in the episode.

A writing choice was clearly made here. Li Haoling didn’t want to “absolve” Xiao Yueqing of her “crimes” by simply making her forget. That would be too easy for her, and in a way it might even count as a reward for her to become an ordinary person. A statement had to be made, and that statement is most impactful with a punishment through death—which is option 3.

Xiao Yueqing had already died in the eyes of the public. Killing her would be just fulfilling what the public believes of her, essentially undoing her deception to them.

In short, Xiao Yueqing’s death was to ensure that the trust system remains fair and absolute. She can’t have her cake and eat it too.

Although my mutual @psychopomp-namine argued in the tags that she wasn’t actually eating her cake because she wasn’t happy on the island, I think that’s less the system’s fault and more of Xiao Yueqing’s (and L0’s) naivety. They thought they could easily cheat the system, only to be hit with the painful lesson that nobody is escaping it. Nice even had to commit suicide. They should’ve known better.

The Trust System is fair and absolute. Its drawbacks are mainly brought about by agencies trying to capitalize on it through PR stunts and marketing gimmicks. Juan-jie packaged Nice as the perfect hero, and the public, not knowing any better, just believed in what they were fed, leading to disastrous effects on Nice.

The people want a perfect hero couple? Well then, let’s give them one so we can farm their trust value.

If heroes can just be honest, if they didn’t have to stick to a particular brand… then trust won’t feel like shackles as they did on Xiao Yueqing and Nice.

Lin Ling proved this in episode 4. He came as himself and even got beaten ugly, but the people learned to trust him anyway. They trusted the real him they saw that day, and with the power of trust, he was able to beat God Eye.

#now she’s gonna be stuck with og nice in the underworld #she’s never escaping him 😔#xiao yueqing #tbhx moon #tbhx meta #to be hero x #tbhx spoilers #tu bian yingxiong x #凸变英雄X #tbhx #miyamiwu.meta #miyamiwu.src

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colebabey888 · 9 months ago

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Rebranding Yourself in 90 Days: A Universe of You | IT GIRL DIARIES

The journey to rebrand yourself isn’t just about external changes—it's about cultivating an entirely new internal reality, a universe where you are in control. Mental change is just as powerful, if not more, than physical change. Within 90 days, you can tap into your self-concept, discipline, dopamine, and accountability, helping yourself reset and thrive. How?..

A Self-Concept

Your self-concept is the foundation of this transformation. The image you hold of yourself shapes how you act, feel, and respond to life. Rebranding yourself means updating that image. Consider who you want to be—stronger, more disciplined, elegant, and intentional. Visualize this every day and align your habits accordingly.

Discipline

Discipline fuels rebranding. It’s what bridges the gap between who you are and who you aspire to be. You’ve already taken steps with healthy eating habits, daily green juices, consistent exercise, and skincare routines. Continue building on these to stay disciplined. Small daily actions—like starting your day with lemon water, pulling coconut oil, or following your workout regime—stack into monumental changes.

Dopamine

We often associate dopamine with unhealthy habits, but it can be rechanneled to serve your goals. By tying small wins—like completing a workout or sticking to your skincare routine—to positive rewards, you hack your brain’s dopamine system. It’s about retraining your mind to find joy in the discipline rather than instant gratification.

Accountability

As you work toward rebranding, it’s essential to acknowledge both your past and present. Mistakes you’ve made, times you’ve slipped up or lacked discipline—these moments are part of your story. But instead of letting them weigh you down, forgive yourself. Recognize that missteps don’t define you, but your ability to rise after them does. Forgiveness unlocks your potential to keep moving forward with compassion for yourself. By learning from your past, you free yourself to fully embrace the person you’re becoming.

____

In 90 days, you can create an entirely new universe where you embody discipline, embrace positive habits, and radiate elegance in every facet of your life. By focusing on self-concept, discipline, dopamine, and accountability, your transformation will extend beyond appearance—it will become the essence of who you are.

xoxo, colebabey8.88

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elumish · 1 month ago

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When talking about why stories are written certain ways, I think two fairly separate ideas are often conflated: 1) the author's reasons (conscious or unconscious) for writing a specific story a specific way and 2) the systemic reasons for stories like the one you are looking at being written the way they are.

To separate out from any of the trickier subjects for a second, let's look at romantasy over the last five or so years.

If you look at a book like A Game of Love and Betrayal by Elayna R. Gallea (chosen only because I've read it and also have Thoughts on it), I can reasonably assume that the author likes or is interested in writing about vampires and magic/fae, and probably enjoys dating competition shows.

But the book also follows some very clear and direct trends in recent romantasy.

The popularity of fae in its current iteration can likely be tracked primarily to A Court of Thorns and Roses--while some earlier fantasy romance series like the Tairen Soul series by C.L. Wilson had "Fey" as an immortal, ethereally beautiful species with elemental powers, fae tended on average more towards being directly inspired by the Tuatha Dé Danann and aes sídhe of Celtic mythology that we've seen in everything from Melissa Marr's Wicked Lovely series to Karen Marie Moning's Fever series. Using fae in the manner used in the book not only draws from those ACOTAR framings but also capitalizes on its popularity.

Much of the plot mirrors Kiera Cass's The Selection, reflecting the trend of modern romantasy to throw back to or draw direct inspiration from young adult books that were popular from the mid-2000s to mid-2010s (e.g., Twilight, The Hunger Games). This is because a decent chunk of romantasy readers (especially those who are popular on Booktok and Bookstagram) are women who were teenagers during that time and read those books, then got back into reading with ACOTAR and Fourth Wing. Many popular romantasy books are a direct play on that nostalgia and familiarity.

The book is very focused on nobility and royalty. While this is not unique to romantasy, romantasy plays much more heavily on that than other fantasy genres.

We can see here that both personal preferences (assumed, in this case, because I've never spoken to the author) and systemic forces can be true at the same time. Chances are that some of those personal preferences are driven by those systemic forces, and at the same time, the popular nature of those personal preferences is what drives those systemic forces.

And someone analyzing or criticizing systemic forces doesn't necessarily mean that they're being critical of a specific person's personal preferences or motivations.

It can be true that a person is writing about a white character being attacked by a Black character because they themselves are a white person who was once attacked by a Black person, and it is still possible to analyze and be critical of the way that story reflects and exacerbates broader systemic views on Black people being a physical threat to white people.

It can be true that a person finds dubious consent or sexual coercion or controlling relationships hot in fiction but would never do it in real life, and it is still possible to analyze and be critical of the way that story reflects and exacerbates broader systemic views on sex and sexual pressures and expectations in relationships, gender roles, and sexual violence.

And sometimes it is also possible and even important to analyze and be critical of a specific person's personal preferences and motivations for writing things a certain way. When JKR, a woman writing under a male name because I guess she's the only one allowed to go by a name associated with a different gender than she was assigned at birth, writes about someone being killed for having transphobic beliefs, it is important to be critical of it not only in the context of broader transphobia but also JKR's specific history of being transphobic.

#media criticism #media literacy #ethical writing

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hxlxnaaa · 5 months ago

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𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: in order to get a creepy coworker off your back, you begrudgingly let sylus play the part of your fake boyfriend. unfortunately, your emotions and pride quickly spiral out of control.

★ 𝐜𝐰/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: first person pov, enemies to lovers, fake dating, part 1 out of 2, angst, some swearing

★ 𝐰𝐜: 5k

★ 𝐚/𝐧: i had HELLA writers block while writing this, so if it seems chaotic and rushed that's why. i really wanted to scrap this but i spent so long on it i would be disappointed if i did. this is part one out of two, and i promise to get part two out super soon! it should be a lot better than this one *sob*

“Is that a new necklace?”

I grimace, the annoying twerp’s voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard.

“No, Nicholas, it's the one I always wear.” I press my lips into a tight line, staring at the papers in front of me. After everything I’ve tried, I don’t know how he hasn’t caught on with how absolutely, utterly disinterested I am.

Nicholas was a recent graduate from the academy, starting his first year here at the Association. At first he seemed sweet, like an infatuated kid, but it quickly worsened and now I have to deal with harassment every day at work.

He’d do anything and everything to spark a conversation, trying to work any attention out of me despite all my efforts of ignoring him. I tried to be nice originally, letting him down easily whenever he’d pay me compliments and ask me out to lunch.

That didn’t work.

He became more persistent, and I resorted to either giving him the silent treatment or being straight up rude. Throwing him off my back seemed like an impossible task, and I was convinced I had developed some sort of parasite that was bound to me until I retired.

“Ah, I’ve never noticed…” Nicholas sat himself in front of me, and I could feel his stare on my face.

Don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look up.

“Hey guys!”

Thank God.

Forcing a smile at Tara’s cheerfulness, Nicholas paid her a nod, clearly unsettled with her interruption. She came up behind me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. If there was anyone who was capable of putting a wedge in between me and my borderline stalker, it was Tara.

“Are you excited for the Hunter’s Ball? I can't believe it’s already coming up…” She sighed dreamily behind me, resting her cheek on the top of my head. While the Hunter’s Ball wasn’t my favorite event, it was typically a good time.

Well, at least before Nicholas came along.

I couldn’t imagine how it would go this year, him crawling six feet up my ass as I try to shake him off the whole night. It’s bad enough I have to deal with him sober, I can’t even imagine how much more unbearable he’d become with drinks in his system. This was the one night of the year the Association actually shows their appreciation for their employees, and I’d be damned if I couldn’t enjoy myself.

“It’s always nice we get a plus one,” Tara mentions, “I can't wait to see who everyone brings." She nudges my shoulder with her arm, laughing.

The look in Nicholas’ eyes told me everything he was about to say. I could practically hear the words come out of his mouth before he even spoke them-

“Yeah, I’m gonna bring my boyfriend.” I spoke before thinking, the words an act of desperation. Nicholas’ eyes widened and Tara’s arms flew from my body, as she whipped herself to stand in front of me.

Oh no, why would I say that- Why did I say that?!

“Your… what!” She started grasping at my hands, questions flying out of her mouth before I couldn’t even process half of them, “Since when? What’s his name? Where’d you meet him? Do you have any pictures?”

I knew I had gotten myself into trouble, I didn’t even have the slightest clue as to who I could possibly feign to be my boyfriend; but the look on Nicholas’ face told me I needed to keep up whatever I was doing, because it was working.

I smiled innocently, “We’ve been keeping it on the down low, things are still pretty new. I was planning to hard launch us at the Ball.” Chuckling nervously, I was convinced nobody was believing a word I was saying.

“Ohmygosh Mystery Man! I’m so excited!” Tara continued to blabber on, trying to pull any detail she could out of me. I made eye contact with Nicholas and thought about how soon the Ball was - only a week away.

Letting out a sigh of relief because of my believable lie, the feeling soon faded and was replaced with chest crushing stress. I had no boyfriend, and no plan; I was going to have to think fast.

Laying in my bed that night, I scoured my brain for any potential suitor. I thought maybe Zayne, a cardiac surgeon and childhood best friend. He’d be perfect, all my coworkers would be so pleased, but a cow would have to jump over the moon before he’d even think about complying. Maybe Xavier’s friend Jeremiah? A sweet florist…No, Xavier would never let me do that.

I flipped onto my stomach, screaming into my pillow. Smushing my face into the fabric, I silently prayed I’d suffocate and be free from this mess I’d webbed myself into.

Before I could pass out and be put out of my misery, my phone started to ring.

Not even looking at the caller id, I picked it up and answered with a disgruntled, “Hello?”

“You never sound pleased to hear from me, Kitten.”

I screamed into the pillow again, Sylus being the complete utter last person I wanted to hear from right now.

He chuckled over the line, “Actually, I think that might be the unhappiest I’ve heard you.”

“What do you want?”

“Can I not just call to talk? I’ve had a rough day and wanted to hear your voice.”

I let out a forced laugh, “You’ve had a rough day? YOU’VE had a rough day? You will not believe the day I had then.”

His voice softened, “Talk to me about it then.”

While I most definitely realized my day couldn’t be comparable to his, as he was essentially a mob boss running the N109 Zone, venting about my problems felt nice. As much as I couldn’t stand Sylus, with his incessant arrogance and backhanded flattery, he was easy to talk to sometimes.

Sometimes.

“I don’t even know how I got myself into this situation. Well, I do know, I just didn’t mean to!” I groaned, throwing my face into my hands.

He sits in silence for a minute, and I can hear the soft playing of one of his records in the background. It’s annoying how he feels the need to call and bother me, with a side of music, to wind down at night.

“When is it?” He finally asks, and I hear shuffling.

“Next Saturday, so…” I can practically see the clock ticking down, “Shit, a week from today.”

“What time?”

“9- Sylus, why?”

“I’ll be there at 8:30 then.” There’s mirth in his voice and my face goes pale, “Sylus, no, don’t you dare. It cannot be you, just let me borrow one of your men or something.”

Sylus lets out a low laugh, “Now why would I do that when I could just be your date?”

“Not date,” I cut him off, “fake boyfriend.”

“Of course, fake boyfriend.” He clucked his tongue, “Why would I let someone else be your fake boyfriend?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’re the big bad Onychinus boss?” Pressing a finger to my temple to ease the headache that he was becoming, I started to pace my floor. “You’re stepping into enemy territory at this event, there’s no way I’ll be able to save your ass if you get found out, let alone what will happen to me and my place at the Association.”

“I’ve already met some of your coworkers before, remember? It’s best if it's me instead of some stranger, and trust me sweetie, they won’t know.”

My coworkers did take a liking to him when they met during one of our outings, Sylus just had this charisma about him that sucked everyone in; the mysterious fruit vendor Skye who was absolutely horrid at karaoke. He stole their hearts quickly, and I’m lucky if they don’t ask me at least once a week how he’s doing. Sylus was just magnetic like that, even if you tried your damndest to hate him, there’s just something about his demeanor that’s magic.

He has a point here, and it’s killing me to admit he’s right.

“Fine,” I snap, “but absolutely no funny business.”

“I’m not sure what you could possibly mean by that, Kitten.” Sylus lets out a low laugh that makes me want to punch my phone, “I’ll be there at 8:30.”

Before I can respond, he quickly hangs up. I’m left sitting on my bed with racing thoughts of everything that could possibly go wrong. Was bringing Sylus really worth getting this creep off my back? Well, if there was anyone who could scare him off, it would be the leader of Onychinus. Worst case scenario, I have Sylus pull a gun out on him.

I shake my head, trying to clear my stupid thoughts.

I sent him a picture of the invitation, which included the dress code. I wasn’t too worried about him making a fool out of me, just the overwhelming anxiety of bringing a top criminal as my date to a work event where we quite literally are attempting to hunt this exact man down.

Trying to trust Sylus isn’t the easily discoverable type, I make a miserable attempt to put my mind to rest, and get some sleep.

The next week following my abrupt news of a boyfriend was hell. Not to my surprise, word was quickly spread through the Association, and I was constantly being flooded with questions and endless pressure to just ‘give them a name!’. I even had Xavier at my desk with questions one morning, and he was always the type to steer away from work related gossip.

Not to mention Sylus himself was being utterly insufferable. He was taking this far too seriously, sending lunch and flowers to my work with paper love notes attached. It was bringing on more attention at work, and every time I told him to stop, he’d just send more extravagant bouquets that cluttered my desk and made the surrounding area smell like a funeral.

At one point, I woke up to a box in the mail. Inside was a black velvet dress, a ruby necklace, and heels. Sending him an angry text about how I have my own clothes, he just responded by transferring 200 dollars into my bank account saying, ‘Get your nails done too. Match the outfit.’

By Saturday night, I was almost ready for everyone to meet Sylus, just so people would stop with the ‘fake boyfriend trivia’ while I’m on the clock, and his annoying attempts at romantic gestures.

The night of, at 8:30 on the dot, I heard a knock at my door.

On the other side was a well dressed Sylus; I think it was the first time I had ever seen him done up so nicely. He wasn’t ever one to slack on his looks, but in his black pinstripe suit and red tie that matched my gifted necklace, I had to take a second. Even though he made me constantly want to take my gun and replicate the time I shot him, I could never deny he’s hot. His arguably perfect looks just adds to the hatred.

He looked me up and down, smirking. The dress he had gotten me was backless and stopped at my ankles, with a slit up to my thigh that had me worried that with one wrong move I’d flash all my coworkers. Opening his mouth to I’m sure to make a snide comment, I cut him off.

“I have to put on my shoes and that necklace, but then I’m ready.” I walked over to the coffee table and grabbed the ruby piece that was gifted, struggling with the clasp thanks to the nails I was practically forced to get.

“Here.” Coming up behind me, Sylus took the necklace from my hands. Brushing my hair out of the way, I felt his fingers against my neck as he secured the jewelry with ease. I turned around to face him, and he smiled down at me.

He gestured to the couch, “Sit.”

His one word commands were starting to get on my nerves. “What?” I glared at him.

Grabbing my shoulder and softly pushing me back, I tumbled onto the couch. Sylus snickered, “I said sit, Kitten.”

Getting on his knees, he picked up my ankle, slipping the heel onto my foot.

“I could’ve done this myself.” Scoffing, I averted my eyes to anywhere that wasn’t Sylus on his knees in front of me.

“I’m sure you could with those nails, sweetie.” He hooked the straps around my ankle, and I felt my skin burn red where his fingers danced. It was definitely red with anger.

For sure.

Standing when he was done, Sylus reached a hand out to me. Narrowing my eyes at his hand, I ignored the help. To my dismay, I stood up too fast in heels and lost a bit of my balance. Sylus caught my waist and gave me a smug smile, pulling me into him. “You look absolutely beautiful tonight, my love.”

I grimaced, pulling away from his grasp and heading to the door. “Oh, do not do that. No more of that.”

“We have to get into character, I’m just being prepared.”

“Be in character when we’re there. Not here.”

“I have to get into the mindset.” Sylus creeped closer to me, and I stepped back. At this point, I was essentially pinned in between him and the door. “After all, I have to practice so I can impress everybody.” He leaned down, his breath fanning against the side of my neck.

“Right.” I rolled my eyes, opening the door behind me and taking a backwards step out. Sylus stumbled at the sudden movement, and I smirked at his loss of composure. “Let’s go, we’ll be late.”

When we arrived, I felt my heart begin to race. All the mental preparation I had done for this exact night fled my mind as soon as Sylus put the car into park. My worry was not of showing off my new fancy fake boyfriend, it was the fact that I was bringing my new fancy fake boyfriend into an arena that was hunting him. Over the past week I’ve tried telling myself he’s not easily discoverable, I mean, if he was, the Association would’ve had him tracked down by now. However, knowing my luck, I was preparing for the worst.

Sylus gently placed his hand on my thigh, attempting to give me a reassuring smile, “It’ll be okay, Kitten. Just follow my lead.”

We’re fucked.

He walked around, opening the door for me. His car was clearly the nicest and most expensive out of all the guests tonight, and I knew if anybody saw I’d never hear the end of it.

When we were nearing the entrance, I sighed, shoving down my pride and grabbing Sylus’ arm, wrapping myself sweetly around his bicep. I watched his lips curve upward into a smug smile, and I suppressed the urge to throw myself off and take my heel to his-

“Invitation please.” Sylus handed the men working the door the two slips of paper, and I begrudgingly walked in clinging to his arm.

‘Playing the character’, I thought.

The venue the Ball was being held at was extravagant, with a high, golden ceiling, and golden marble floors.

It was filled to the brim with people that worked for the Association, plus their guests. I winced at the sheer amount of people, automatically going into defense mode due to the overwhelming fact that we were outnumbered.

“Smile, sweetie.” Letting go of his arm, Sylus took his pointer finger and thumb, lightly pulling the corners of my mouth upward.

I nipped at his finger, and he poked my nose as a warning.

I heard someone shriek my name, and I whipped around to see Tara quickly approaching. “Oh wow, you’re beautiful!” She wrapped me up in a tight hug, rocking me side to side. Letting go of me just as fast, Tara gasped when she saw Sylus.

“Skye! Oh my gosh it’s you, how sweet!” She fawned over us, and he smiled kindly at her, “You look lovely tonight, Tara.” If he kept up the nice talk, I was going to put my head through one of the walls.

“Here, come with me. Some of us already have a table together!”

Tara dragged us over to a table where a few of my most nagging coworkers stood around talking. Introducing him to the ones who had never met him, I groaned internally, ready for the torment of questions to begin.

“So,” Tara dropped the first bomb, “how long have you two been a thing?” I know this has been weighing on her worse than me all week.

“About a month now.” Sylus answered with ease. I tried to suppress a shocked look on my face, because I was planning on doing all the talking; but that continued, them rapid firing questions and Sylus answering all of them as if he had this all thought out. I mean, shit, he was convincing me.

“I have to know how this happened!” One of them said, and Sylus tucked my hair behind my ear, pretending to recall the moment.

“I had feelings for her for a while,” He said, smiling down at me, “and it got to a point where I couldn’t take it anymore. It was spur of the moment, but I showed up at her door in the middle of the night and had to ask her if she felt the same.”

Damn. He was good.

All the girls squealed, “That's so romantic!”

I placed my hand on Sylus’ chest, batting my eyelashes up at him, “I’m gonna go get a drink, d’you want anything?” He grabbed my hand, matching my energy, and kissing my knuckles, “No, sweetie, that’s quite alright. I’ll stay here and entertain your friends.”

All of them cooed at the sight, probably thinking we were so lovesick for each other it hurt. Well, it did hurt, this whole thing was a pain in my ass I needed to be over.

I grabbed a glass of wine from the drink table, the group out of sight. Sighing, I resisted the urge to down the glass all at once. While I was uncomfortable, I couldn’t deny everything was going well. Everyone was pleased, so I tried to relax.

“That's a pretty necklace,” I heard from behind me, “is it new?”

Nevermind.

Turning around, there stood Nicholas. His eyelids drooped, and he reeked of wine.

“What did you say?” I asked, looking around for the quickest exit route.

“I said I liked your necklace. Is it new?”

God, does this twerp have any other material?

“Yes, it is.” A low voice said, and I felt an arm wrap around my waist. My head shot up to meet Sylus in the eyes; I guess my face was screaming, ‘Help me!’, because he gave my side a soft squeeze of reassurance.

“Oh.” Was all Nicholas replied, shooting his eyes back and forth between Sylus and I. In his head, I imagined the pieces clicking together. ‘This is it,’ I thought, ‘finally he’ll leave me alone!’

“This song is nice… Would you care to dance?” There were no thoughts behind his eyes. This guy was genuinely dense. I could’ve sworn my jaw dropped at his stupidity, and Sylus chuckled next to me.

“So sorry, but tonight she’s mine.” Swiftly sweeping me away, Nicholas and my glass of wine were quickly left behind.

“Why don’t you dance with me instead, sweetie?” Sylus said, leading me to the open floor where people were dancing to the soft classical music.

Sylus put my hand on his shoulder, intertwining my other hand with his. Placing his hand on my lower back, he pulled me in closer to him.

“Look at me.”

His eyes stared into mine, and there was something behind them I couldn’t quite place my finger on. We started slowly ballroom dancing in our own little spot on the floor, a bit away from everyone else. As much as I wanted to strangle this man, I could relax a little in his arms. He just felt safe sometimes.

Sometimes.

“You’re doing good tonight.” Sylus said, still looking into my eyes.

“Thanks.” I started playing with the hair on the nape of his neck, “So where do we go from here?”

He raised a brow, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t think I do, Kitten.”

“How am I going to tell my coworkers that we ‘broke up’ right after this? They’ll be suspicious.”

“We could keep doing this for a while.” Sylus shrugged, smirking.

Groaning, I slammed my head on his shoulder, “Tonight was bad enough, I can’t do this for any longer.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

He was right. I didn’t have a better idea.

So we did just that.

I was going to give it two months. Then, it would say we were together for three months total, which looked like a completely reasonable time to test run a relationship and then call it quits.

At first, I was completely miserable. I already couldn’t stand Sylus as a friend, how could I stand him as my ‘boyfriend’? After that night at the Ball, to my dismay, he completely won everybody over. It made me feel like I had to put more effort into faking all of this.

The extravagant gifts sent to my work started getting sent to my place too. I told him he didn’t have to send them to me outside of work, let alone at all, but he always insisted so he could “stay in character”.

Whether it was convincing me to let him take me out to fancy places, like dinner or a show, it was always just to keep him ‘in character’. I think he just liked using that excuse so I would be forced to hang out with him and not be able to deny or complain about it.

Though, after a bit, it became easy to slip into a groove.

I started to not mind the talk about Sylus; everything started to become bearable, and dare I say it, kind of fun.

We had played with the claw machines once, and he won a white cat plushie. Jokingly, I had told him it looks exactly like him, and snapped a picture of the cat next to his face to prove a point.

I made that photo my wallpaper, to make things more realistic. It freaked me out for a while whenever I’d open my phone, but I came to like it after a while. Sylus looked kind of cute in the photo, his expression mocking the plushies. He looked kind, warm, a soft look on his face you didn’t see on him often. The more I saw the photo, the more it made me smile.

I began looking forward to his calls, his texts. He’d call me to say good morning, or tell me goodnight, even if he was in the middle of a meeting. The ‘fake dates’ became less uncomfortable as I grew more accustomed to the situation we had put ourselves into. The roles we were playing came easier and easier with time.

Which was causing a problem.

It wasn’t hard to notice the way my body would flush when he touched me, or how my once strong demeanor around him would start to falter. Words and actions of his that would be fast to anger me, quickly changed into something else.

I was starting to care about him. How annoying.

There was one day when Sylus decided he was going to pick me up from work. “Your coworkers will think it's cute.” He had said, and who was I to deny a free ride home.

He showed up on his bike in his leather jacket, in all his badass glory. Leaning against the bike, he stood up straight and smiled at me when I came outside. As time had gone on, Sylus was slowly becoming less hard and uncaring towards me. He began treating me like I was fragile, always so gentle with me. Him getting into character I suppose.

Sylus held his hand out towards me, and when I took it, he pulled me into his chest. I squealed, laughing at the sudden gesture.

“They’re looking,” He said, glancing at a few of my coworkers still inside, watching us intensely, “Kiss me.”

I choked, “What?”

He grabbed my chin, tilting it up slightly. He cocked his head to the side a bit, almost as if to ask, ‘is this okay?’.

Nodding my head yes, Sylus smirked before leaning down and pressing his lips against mine. For how aggressive he can be as the leader of Onychinus, the kiss was unusually soft. I had imagined kissing him, for all of this, and I never expected him to be the type to be so kind and gentle.

My blood was rushing in my ears and I thought I was going to melt under his hands. I didn’t realize just how bad I subconsciously wanted this until it was happening, and I wanted more. I wanted to kiss him so hard I could steal the air from his lungs, I wanted to grip his shirt so tightly my knuckles turned white because I could finally have him.

When he pulled away, and kissed the corner of my eye, I knew I was fucked.

I didn’t just care about him, I wanted him. I wanted Sylus to be mine, I wanted this to be real, I wanted-

No, I couldn’t want anything.

It would never work. Our lives were too different, we were too different, everything would be doomed from the start. He was a faraway dream that would never come true. He could never be what I wanted.

I always wanted security, someone stable and safe. Sylus could never give me that.

So why do I want him so badly?

It was my friend's birthday party.

I had invited Sylus, because what had originally been a fake relationship to get a creep coworker off my back, spread like a wildfire to a fake relationship that was now known by all my friends.

I only invited him because I knew it would be strange if I showed up without him.

After he kissed me, and my feelings became a living hell to deal with, I started to pull back; started to psych myself out mentally, constantly spending time just trying to convince myself how bad we would be for each other. Trying to will myself to hate him again, go back to where I was two months ago. When Sylus was a nuisance, an annoying pest.

I don’t even really think he noticed. Or if he did, I couldn’t tell.

When we got to the party, the music and laughter could be heard from outside, a drastic change from the almost silent car ride. Sylus tried to make conversation, and I shut him down almost every time.

We walked in, and my friends all greeted him with easy familiarity. They gave him hugs, pats on the back, and he was welcomed effortlessly.

I stood a distance away as he laughed with my friends, and my chest began to hurt. Guilt, dread, I felt doomed. He wasn’t meant to be here, he was never meant to be here. Sylus doesn’t belong with my friends. Sylus doesn’t belong with me.

None of this is real. All of this is one little lie that spun into a web of something so much bigger, and I’m stuck in it.

He looks happy with them, happy with my friends. Happy in my space, with my people. How could he? He’s an intruder, he knows it.

I knew tonight was the night I was done. This couldn’t go on any longer. No more playing house with Sylus, no more pretending. We’re adults, and this whole thing was so childish, and it ends now.

I stepped outside, sitting on the back patio. The night air was cold, and I wasn’t sure if it was the sharp air of my distress that was making my lungs constrict.

“There you are.”

I didn’t turn around to meet the voice, just kept staring into the trees ahead.

Sylus stood beside me, running his fingers through the top of my hair. I relished the feeling, ‘one last time, it’s okay’.

He didn’t ask any questions, didn’t ask why I was out here, if I was okay. I was happy for that, it could give me another reason to be mad at him. To hate him again. To try and rile up all my old feelings, stir old bitterness.

“I want to go home.” I finally said, breaking the silence.

We got in the car, this time he didn’t try to speak. His face was hard again, the soft look long gone. I think, in a way, he knew too. He knows this is for the better.

I said goodbye, told him goodnight before he left. Told him to drive safely.

It had been two months, that’s what I gave him. It was time for it to be over anyways. I changed my wallpaper, changed his name back. I didn’t care if I had to deal with Nicholas at my job anymore, anything was better than the gutted feeling I got from every interaction with Sylus. Nothing was worth that.

The next day, it was radio silence. For the first time in two months, there was nothing. No good morning, no texts throughout the day, no calls to tell me goodnight; and that just continued. For days. Silence.

I had perfected the speech I was going to tell my coworkers, “We gave it our best, but it just wasn’t going to work out between us.” It was reassurance for them, and myself.

It just wasn’t going to work out between us.

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #lads sylus #lnds #lnds smut #lnds fluff #lnds angst #sylus love and deepspace #sylus smut #sylus fluff #sylus x mc #love and deep space #hxlxnaaawrites

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peanutheaddd · 2 months ago

Text

NEW PEANOR AU YYYYAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! dm DIVINE LIBERATION AU!!!!!!!!! deets below cut as always

im gonna preface by saying idk anything about the christianity lore and im not all too interested in learning it either. i was a christian for much of the early years of my life and i dont care much to go back to that era LMFAO most of this au is js using christian imagery bc the christians lwk ate so hard w their religious imagery . neon genesis evangelion type beat . anwyays moving on.

a bit obvious but i gotta start my lore dump somewhere. dm is a priest in this au and petey is a demon

petey is a fallen angel . as in he was born an angel but he was expelled from heaven

in this au there is corruption in the heaven and hell system . god is dead type beat. but not rlly . maybe dormant? maybe god has lost faith in humankind and has gone into hibernation? god cannot exist without faith smth smth Aaanyways.

that being said petey only got expelled from heaven for reasons almost entirely out of his control. he is still graces son and im thinking grace got involved in some anti heaven stuff bc yk heavens system was becoming more and more fucked up . so i reckon when they found out they executed her and as they were in the process of executing her petey tried to protect her but obvs he couldnt be he was a kid. so they executed her and expelled petey for being a traitor . this all happens when peteys like the human equivalent of 12-14 years old maturity wise

anwyays that being said lil petey is an angel. considering when petey was his age he was still an angel . i will go more into lp later

petey is sorta in denial about falling at first bc hes scared but eventually he just leans into the demon thing bc he feels helpless (parallel to canon petey) and just causes a shit ton of trouble. his causing trouble is a way of protecting himself Essentially

eventually he causes a little Too much trouble and he gets turned into a powerless imp by the higher up demons . hes doomed to stay in that form unless hes able to corrupt a priest whos been causing a lot of trouble for the demons . Guess who this priest is.

dms accident with knight still happened (probs happened as a result of one of peteys Funny Doings but not as a direct result.) and dm copes with it by seeing it as a holy act of salvation or wahtnot. like he was saved by gods blessing and by knights sacrifice. half of this is bullshit since as i said god is in a hibernation state. so it was really just All knight. but anyways

knight was a priest before this and its the only life that dms ever known so he kinda just continues with it . he is lwk a better priest than knight was (he got a lot of secondhand religious education just from being around knight so much and hes smarter than knight) so the church just lets him take knights place essentially.

dm is just more calm and collected in this au as well . he found out pretty early on that him being too energetic got knight into trouble which made him sad so he learned to control himself a bit . there was also the threat of him being taken away from knight if he acted out too much which was the worst case scenario for him so , yeah another incentive to behave himself .

anwysays a lot of petey and dms interactions initially are pretty lighthearted . book1 and 2 core. its js petey annoying the hell out of him and dm trying to ignore him LMFAOOOOO this is how petey gets the genius idea to try and summon a clone so he can be more effective in bothering dm . this is how lil petey is created LMFAAOAOOOOO

for this au peteys denial about being related to lp in any way shape or form is waaaayyy worse bc he still has a Lot of trauma from when he was in his angelic state . and he doesnt wanna associate with angels or heaven in any capacity . so even looking at lp is hard for him.

peteys still able to go into his full demon state, but only for brief periods of time . its also super physically taxing so he has to be really careful about it or else he could abruptly change back into his imp form when hes in the middle of danger

eventually petey "corrupts" dm as in dm just acts like a Human (this is also a criticism on the inhumane standards placed on people and how oftentimes humans are shamed for acting like Humans because theyre being held to some holy standard for the promise of a perfect afterlife . using christianity as a proxy for this since christianity is the shining example of doing this a lot) . im thinking its him going against an angel or holy figure to protect petey and/or lil petey

im thinking the overarching plot of this story is intimately tied to lil petey. the plot starts off with petey trying to corrupt lil petey and turn him into a demon so that he can have a little minion .

this attempt to corrupt lp continues even after petey starts to see him more as his son because then hes like well if im a demon then my son should also be a demon . hes also starting to get scsred of what heaven might do if they find out about him . bc as far as peteys aware once heaven gets wind of lil peteys existence theyd either execute him for being an anomoly or just take him away to raise him in heaven since hes an angel. both scenarios are likely (knowing heaven) and its also literlaly the worst thing that could possibly happen. so he slike okay if i just turn lp into a demon then theres no reason for heaven to take him away .

((semi unrelated but this is a parallel to canon to me. this is js my personal headcanon but i think peteys so obsessed eith having lil petey turn out evil in the earlier parts of the series because for him acting evil was a self defense tactic. its a way to protect himself. so by having lil petey act evil hes essentially teaching him how to protect himself in the only way he knows how . when he was rejected by the world and left all alone he was able to stay alive by being a criminal. and past the nonchalant "u have to be evil just because" facade i truly do think it was . again petey subconsciously teaching lp to protect himself in the way that protected HIM from the world. so yeah ))

i think petey probs doesnt tell dm about any of this because dm is a priest . petey fully believes that if dm finds out about lil petey being his son and thus being technically disconnected from the heaven system he would try to alert heaven about it through some mortal means . so for a lot of the earlier parts of the plot dm thinks that lp is a little angel who just kinda comes down to earth from time to time . hes totally unaware that he and petey are related . yes they look almost the same but an angel and a demon being related is totally unprecedented . so he doesnt even consider it

petey also makes sure that lil petey keeps his mouth shut about them being related by telling him that if dm ever finds out that hes his dad then he might never see him again .

but what petey fails to realize is that dms loyalty doesnt lie with the church . it lies with knight . his loyalty is far removed from any kind of institution . so when he evtnually does find out (i reckon through some way out of peteys control) and petey basicaly begs him not to tell heaven because of systematic issues and the possibility of lp getting executed dm immediately agrees. at this point hes close enough to lp and petey by extension that hes willing to forgo his loyalty to the church which only really existed because of knight in the first place . everything he had done religion wise up until this point was bc of knight . so if hes asked to choose between what knight might have wanted vs the real tangible being that is begging him not to tell heaven then he is going to choose the real tangible being . thats his family dawg.

essentially for dm the real living thing happenign in his world is infinitely more important than the moral system that hes been taught .

plot basically then goes to heaven finding out and sending angels to try and find lp as petey and dm get up to shenanigans to hide him . i reckon hell also gets involved in it . heaven and hell are "opposites" but theyre hand in hand when it comes to their shit polarized system . and lil petey as an angel being petey the demons son goes against this system and undermines their power . so both heaven and hell arent all too happy about it .

the climax is the event where dm is "corrupted" like i mentioned above . i reckon this is the event that brings god out of hibernation . smth smth free will smth smth complete and total rejection of heaven by one of its servants for a holy purpose smth smth . you feel me ? and i reckon the angels are abt to finish them off or smth and god is like HEY. STOP THAT. 👎👎👎👎

petey does not become an angel again at the end of the plot. dm does not become an angel or a demon or anything like that . he just stays a mortal being. and he still stays loyal to religion in knights memory despite being friendly with a demon, despite defying the church for said demon. the whole point is that this polarization of identity bullshit is stupid when humanity is so diverse . theres nuance snd complexity and its literlaly impossible to categorize people into discrete identities. thats not how it works

i reckon dm doesnt stay a priest just because that would require adhering to their standards which dm does not fuck with . so he probs just goes and finds some other job while staying religious. smth smth religion is not inherently evil its only the way that its used by hateful people

holy fuck this might be one of the longest lore dumps ive ever done about an au. god bles. LMFAOOOOOOOOO

#dm divine liberation au #my art

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