Hey Exiled. I wanted to say that your fics are super amazing and as an aspiring writer, I want to be as good as you. Hope you are doing well.
Possible Trigger Warning(?)
This is for if/when your requests open up again, but imagine Xiao or Albedo with an s/o that’s being tortured and they’re forced to watch. Like they can’t do anything to save them and end up losing their s/o. (I mean for this to inflict pain as this is my favorite troupe. It can honestly work with anyone; I just chose these two boys because they are my favorites)
Today we woke up and we chose violence 🤝finally got around to working on this, I think it's about time I seriously manifest Hu Tao even tho I'm all fluffy lately ywy I love this community, you all give me the best brain juice ehehh Edit: Also also awww thank you for your kind words, sweetie, I'm sure you're already good in your own way!
Albedo and Xiao witness their S/O getting tortured... Blood, violence, the obvious stuff. And also death warning, read at your own risk. (masterlist)
With every punch sends nothing but painful regret into his gut.
His fragile and weak body was beaten into submission, and Albedo comes to spite himself over realizing just how useless he is without his Vision, how useless he would be with it either way. Maybe if he knew the things that would transpire, he would have taken great consideration into mastering his element.
The cloaked man pulls harshly at his ruined braid, forcing him to watch now in full attention.
He almost vomits at the sound of your bone grinding and snapping as they pull it back, your grazed throat able to let out a choked scream that sends shivers to his own body. For the first time in his whole life, tears threatened to spill as it forms at the brim of his eyes.
"Please..." the sword embedded in your side twists to deliver a seering pain, another scream forcing its way through your senseless whimpers, "Please... let them go..."
Your face was smacked flat against the floor, breathing heavy but barely there as a foot presses at the nape of your neck, placing a dangerous weight at your spine/throat as your oxygen supply starts to fade.
"That person right there is the reason your research has been stagnant," the one holding him down spoke in held fury as he chooses his words through grinded teeth, "Khaenri'ah needs its cure and you're here playing house. You ought to learn your lesson."
You're awfully silent and still. Albedo's sedated body struggles helplessly, breathe quickening as fear in its purest form bubbles within him. He gingerly calls out your name; no response, it only made the man put more pressure on your neck.
"No, please, stop. I was- I was on an expedition, in Dragonspine. I was sent by the Knights- I-I couldn't refuse..."
A swift, muffled crack makes him scream. Horrified and shocked. The tears are now that of a waterfall, sobs and cries for your name in hopes that you would respond. You didn't.
Ever since the day Albedo comes walking into Mondstadt with your corpse cradled in his arms, not even the Knights had seen him walk out of his laboratory, dead eyes never meeting anyone's stare. The Alchemist is in grief and denial, that's what they theorized, for the reason that Albedo never once muttered anything else under his breath besides his research.
Timaeus and Sucrose, despite being apprentices and assistants, never stepped foot into his laboratory either. Banned, even. Klee too never had the chance to see him again, his laboratory was permanently locked. Perhaps he just needed time, something all the Knights thought.
"I'm almost done," and time is exactly what he wants. Even if you're nothing but a rotting corpse in his lab, he'll get to you soon enough. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I'll defy those laws for you, my love."
Xiao and the constant plague of his built up karma haunts him whether he has his eyes closed or not.
The problem with it is the fact that when it manifests, it's usually a vivid phenomenon that only he is witness to. It alarms him more than anyone of its recent manifestations, corrupting nearby Hilichurls and whole cavern of monsters, his debt is sipping and he's not sure what else it could hurt, because it can hurt anything at this point.
So when he lifts his head from his usual shackles of karmic binds, he was more than horrified to see you, his ray of hope entangled the same way. "What are you doing here-" his sudden question halts upon your pained grunt, the binds wrapped around your arms pulling in opposite directions.
The pain is slow and daunting, Xiao realized at the way your face scrunches up as it pulls more. Desperate to stop your hurting, he struggles against his own karmic binds. Yet the thousand years of burden do not relent so easily.
"Our lives are cut off because of your slaughter. What makes you think you deserve reconciliation with life after taking thousands of others?"
A bind finds its way around your throat and tightens, your grunts muffled into choking desperately for air, body writhing in an effort to pull away from all your shackles. Xiao doesn't like it, not one bit of how he struggles to break free, how powerless he feels at the current situation when he should be protecting you from harm.
"Xi..." He tugs at his left arm to angle his leg, hoping to latch it around the upper bind to pull it. What was of his composure now when his desperation and alarm is evident on his face? "X-Xiao ngh-"
Distracted from his own struggles, Xiao peels his stare away and onto your form, eye widening and moistening at the sight of red and blood forming by the junction of your arms and torso. A manifestation of the consumed festered souls summons behind your form with a wicked smile, long nails of jet black traces your flexed body while piercing at your skin as it passes.
Your struggles for air mixes in with pain raised tenfold, breathless screams for every puncture. You couldn't even look at him anymore. "Please," the Yaksha cries out in his most vulnerable, "Stop hurting them. Please... This is between you and me..."
"If you want us to stop,
then you'll have to stop too."
In the domain of his mind, only those that lingers, that should linger are the thousands of devoured, demonic souls that make up his debt. There is no room for anything else. Xiao hangs his head low and there he weeps in silence in a place where he is not a weapon, only a man reminiscent of his youngness and naivety.
Here he is no Xiao.
Here he is Alatus.
"Xiao?" You wave your hand by his face, snapping your fingers (and failed miserably) enough times for him to finally zone out of his sudden trance in the middle of your comversation. "Is something wrong?" Your confused expression is different from his steeled, yet wide eyed one.
And without a word, he vanished from your sight. A look over his shoulder, of regret and hurt, was the last of your memory of him. In his eyes you are dead to him; in his mind your light has no place in it.
I have realized I do not want to scar you that much. Ironically. Asks spam after this so turn your notifs off after.
The climax to the Klee angst arc, a somewhat sequel to Geronimo. (Masterlist)
“-best sibling I could ever have!”
Like drowning underwater, all sounds around were muffled with a ringing tone, vibrations of explosions big enough to rival Klee’s shakes the ground you had your knees on.
“Klee knows they’re doing it for the best!”
You still could feel the ghost of her fingertips brushing over yours in an effort to grasp it, to go after you despite your instructions of staying put. The only thing that passes through your ears is the sound of labored breathing, your own desperate gulps for air.
Didn’t think too much of it, you defended, knowing Klee was capable of protecting herself.
But there was so much red, so much more than the usual that you complimented looks good on her. Because as Alice’s children, red is a common color associated with the family.
“Go to your big brothers, they’ll protect you. I need to help evacuate the citizens, I don’t want you getting caught up in the commotion.”
Your grip around Klee tightens as you remember the two men standing and watching just a few feet behind you. The last you’ve seen of them were guilty yet hollow gazes at the sight, and the memory only made you more aware of your faded little flame in your arms.
Your expression cringes in guilt for a split second before drafting a smile at the sight of Klee laughing in glee, having the time of her life drawing with Kaeya and Albedo, the famed knights of Ordo Favonius she’s always told you of. In a place where she’s safe, without worries. You can trust them, you can trust them with Klee, you can-
“I trusted you two. Klee trusted you two.” Don’t fucking give me that guilty look, you seethed at the sight of their solemn, downward gazes. They couldn’t bare watch your well-deserved anguished glare, nor the reddened child in your arms.
By their own hands.
By some twisted turn of fate, the two people that your little sister trusted the most turned out to be Mondstadt’s greatest downfall.
A red target appeared on their chests before any of them made a step forward or dared to talk, to explain. You couldn’t care less about what they had to say, knowing full well that the evidence is right in front of you. The wet trail of tears produces pricks of needles against your burnt skin, yet your eyelids only drooped lower at the sight of the two.
Two traitors, two bastards.
"Take another step, and I'll show you why I'm Alice's child."
There was a special kind of satisfaction that lingered at the back of your head as you watched fear wash over their once stoic expressions. At the sound of missiles clicking out of release from behind you.
Sooner or later, you'll avenge your sister.
Little warm-up fic before I start on requests again
hey could you please do angst prompts 1 and 4 for peter parker if you have time??
1) “i needed you and you weren’t there.” + 4) “why do you keep making promises you can’t keep?” & peter parker
The beginning of college was supposed to be a real turning point for you and Peter.
After a few rough years of juggling his vigilante-hood and nearly losing you a one many times, he had sworn to you that your first year at NYU was going to mark the start of a real, mature relationship. No longer would you be involved in a tumultuous teenage affair, but rather a dedicated and communicative partnership. You were adults now -- not teenagers, not high schoolers who lived with their parents. You'd managed to find yourselves an apartment, and you actually cooked rather than ordering take out, and he was even doing his own laundry. All signs of mature adults, no?
It wasn't that easy, though. Whilst Peter was desperate to move on from all those time he'd unintentionally hurt you, all the things that had made him to do it in the first place still existed. He was still Spiderman, and he still risked his life every night trying to protect the city. His promises to you didn't change anything except the weight on his shoulders.
And whilst the first few months were fine - perfect, even - it didn't take long before the cracks started to appear. Peter was back on late nights and early mornings, running between college classes and police calls like a headless chicken. You were back to a brief kiss on the lips in the morning and then...well, that was it. He'd be gone the rest of the day; home after you'd gone to bed, and out the door before you'd woken up. The only signs that he'd even been there at all were the dishes he left in the sink.
The worst part of it all was that you were helpless. This was supposed to be him trying - and if you told him his best wasn't good enough, what kind of monster would that make you? Every other time you'd brought the issue up, he'd looked like a kick puppy; sad brown eyes and pouty lips. An expression that made it impossible to do anything other than just hold him.
After accidentally falling asleep on the sofa one night, you were awoken by the sound of Peter coming through the window. His feet softly landed on the carpet, hair sticking up in a thousand different directions from his mask. He looked tired - well past it, in fact - but you knew this was probably going to be the only chance you had for a while to talk to him.
"Hey," you gently greeted him. The blankets that were around your shoulders slipped down as you sat up, rubbing your eyes.
"Hey, baby," he replied. "How was your day?"
"The usual," you said. "I had classes then work."
"- Pete, we need to talk," you cut him off. Peter's face fell slightly.
"O-oh, okay," he stammered. "Like, right now?"
"Yeah," you said, "because this is the first time I've seen you in two weeks and if I don't do it now, I probably never will."
Putting his mask down, Peter took a seat at the end of the couch by your feet. He observed as you reached for the TV remote, pausing the episode of How I Met Your Mother that you'd fallen asleep watching earlier. It was almost as though he were watching your movements carefully, trying to read them for a sign of whatever the hell was going on. Unfortunately, his Spidey senses didn't stretch that far.
"Are you breaking up with me?" he blurted. Word vomit.
The silence that followed was enough to break his heart.
"I..." you trailed off. "I don't know."
"What's going on?" he asked.
"I'll just come straight out with it," you murmured. "I don't think you have time for a relationship."
Peter's eyes widened -- mostly because he knew you were right, but also because it sounded so much more painful coming from you. He'd managed to juggle things the last four years, but it was only getting worst.
"I - of course I do!" he insisted. "I know things have been a bit busy lately but I promise as soon as I've dealt with-"
"- why do you keep making promises you can't keep?" you cut him off. "You promised that you'd make time for me in senior year, and that didn't happened. Then you promised it would be during the summer, and that was a lie too. This - this apartment and this year and this fucking life - was supposed to be it, but it's not. So it leads me to think that maybe...maybe this is a problem that can't be fixed, Peter."
"Of course it can," his voice was wobbling as he spoke.
Peter stood up, stalking across the other side of the room. Had his suit always felt so claustrophobic?
"I don't know," you leapt off the sofa, following him. "Because it's not fair on me to keep waiting around for you but it's not fair on you to have to deal with so much."
"I am there for you," he murmured.
"No, you're not - and I'm not saying it's your fault, but it's just the truth," you said. "Like last week, when I had one of my finals? And you promised you would help me study and drive me to the exam the next morning?"
Peter's whole body froze when he remembered. You'd stuck to every one of the commitments you'd made to him, and he knew it was supposed to go both ways.
"I am so sorry-"
"- don't," you cut him off. "I needed you and you weren't there. It's too late for apologies now but I think that entire situation is just a metaphor for how we are now."
"What do you mean?"
"It's a cycle - you're busy, I'm busy, then we promise that we'll try but then we never do," you explained. "I can't keep doing it anymore."
He let out a sigh of defeat, leaning against the counter. "Is this a one final chance thing or an it's over thing?"
Neither of you wanted to say it, because you both knew the answer.