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ashimetsu · 1 year

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Heatstroke 【Reader x Azul Ashengrotto】

: ̗̀➛ The outdoors are far too hot for Azul to focus on flight lessons. Instead, he has a plan to skip out and spend some time with you instead : ̗̀➛ Fluff and smut, sly and snarky Azul, reader is fem : ̗̀➛ 1.2k words : ̗̀➛ [a/n]: hope the guy who watched over my shoulder the whole plane ride liked this one as much as i do. props to him for the beta read :D

Inventory turnover, return on assets and an upcoming history of magic exam lay heavy on Azul’s mind. Although solved with a few hours of solitude, keeping Mostro Lounge afloat while dealing with customer issues and overseeing Octavinelle as housewarden has Azul occupied. To top it off, flight lessons happened to be after potionology. While already a dreadful hour, the late summer heat of September has Azul dreading being soaked in sweat.

You notice Azul's brow furrowed next to you, creasing his otherwise smooth and unblemished skin. A slight nudge from you perks his head up and relieves some of the tension built in his face. You flash a gentle smile his direction and Azul quickly fires back a smirk. It's amazing how quickly a glance can change his face from perturbed to cunning. Before you let that thought fester, you bring your attention back to the front of the class. Whatever Azul has planned, he can wait to tell you after class. The most benevolent student would never distract you from your studies, right?

As you make your way from class to the locker room to prepare for flight lessons, a gloved hand grasps your forearm. The material, size, shape, and force of the hand tells you exactly who it is: the conniving octopus. If it wasn't for a sly smile placed evenly on his lips, you might have thought he was trying to hurt you with the strength of his grip. Perhaps in another context… you quickly banished that thought before things could get out of hand.

You yelped as Azul dragged you to a vacant classroom before you could even protest. Closing the door as swiftly as you both came in, Azul essentially tackled you against the wall. You almost believed there was some kindness left in him as he locked a soft gaze with your eyes for a moment before leaning in and taking your mouth with his own. Placing his hands lightly on your hips as you complacently wrap your arms around his neck, he persistently pressed against you. His soft lips dragged you in further, leaving no room for return. Swallowed by his kindness and warmth, you fall completely for his trap. Azul noticed you give up resistance and promptly seized victory. Gentle kisses turned rough as Azul grinded his thigh between your legs, claiming your moan as his prize.

"If you keep me here, you know we're both going to be late." you say breathlessly after forcing Azul away from your lips. Noticing the clock above the chalkboard, it had already been 10 minutes since class started.

"Did you think I didn't account for that?" he replies, gasping like a fish out of water. "After all, it's 90 degrees out, I might as well be sweating from working you over."

You huff a sigh before Azul goes back to being gentle, apologizing for skipping class with butterfly kisses. Once again, he feigns gentleness briefly before nipping your bottom lip. As he kisses you in apology, you gently moan his name again, eliciting another bite, harder this time. You open your eyes and see a tempest in his eyes, hungry for more of you, your body, your reactions. His hands, formerly resting at your hips, begin to travel up your torso, stimulating you ever so slightly. You move into his touches, craving more and more from the generous housewarden. As he explores your body with his hands, Azul makes no haste to plant kiss on your neck, nipping and biting gently, making sure to leave no marks. Maybe another day, another location. He pauses, hovering his mouth over your ear, his hot breath giving you shivers.

"My, my, I must be spoiling you… it's not too much, is it?" Azul whispers, fabricating innocence as his body stills against you. The loss of stimulation is killing you as you move against his firm body to try and get some feeling out of his cold heart.

"Mmmgh, please Azul… don't stop now…" you moan weakly into his shoulder, begging for something, anything, from the once-kind ruler in front of you.

"Your wish is my command, darling."

Suddenly, your senses become clouded with the stimulation; Azul's assault on your lips, his thigh rubbing slowly back and forth between your legs, and now his gloved hands crawling further under your blouse, rubbing small circles over your waist. You hate how he knows what makes you tick, the constant movement, the texture of leather on skin, his mouth traveling across your body, edging you, then immediately clocking back in on your body. Moans fill the empty classroom as Azul continues to work your body. You barely notice his right hand snaking past your waist, cupping your breast and squeezing slightly. You lean into Azul as he thumbs your nipple, feeling the bud firm. Craving more and more, you move in sync with him, creating a steady rhythm.

You feel Azul's hot breath panting against your neck as you look down and see tight creases in his otherwise neatly pressed pants. Quickly, you snake your hand and cup the noticeable bulge, earning a soft sigh from the other. Keeping up with Azul's rhythm, you rub him firmly, eliciting louder and more frequent moans. You press a kiss to Azul's cheek as you reach for his zipper, freeing his painful erection. Hearing his moans only turns you on more as you lube his cock with his own precum. You start slowly at the base, squeezing as you move up. The moans in the room have been almost completely replaced by Azul's, who's shaking and holding onto you for support. As you recover from his stimulation, you continue to drag your hand up and down his cock at a steady pace. With your free hand, you lift Azul's chin, which had been resting on your shoulder, and imprint his expression into your mind forever. It was one of bliss and pain, like he hasn't felt this much sensation in a very long time. You grinned and sped up while taking his face in your hand and pressing your lips together. This moment, with Azul's hands on your waist and breast, his thigh trembling against your wetness, moaning against your mouth while you stroke his face while jerking him off, is something of pure ecstasy for you both.

"I-I'm close…" he wimpered weakly against your mouth, and with a few quick pumps, he moans loudly as he spills over you both, soiling your school uniforms. You ride him out, pumping him through completely.

"Hah…hah… s-sorry, I didn't mean for this to go this far…" Azul sighs breathily into your shoulder, recovering from his high. He pushes up his glasses and releases you, smoothing out your blouse and fixing your hair from his reign of terror. You both rest for a moment, breathing each other's air and relying on the other for support. Azul moves to lean against the wall next to you, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist.

"I guess we can't go back to class after this, huh."

"Suppose not," Azul huffs. "Care for a shower in Octavinelle?" You hear the smirk in his voice.

"After this? I don't think I can trust you to keep your hands to yourself again." you retort with a playful pout.

"Rest assured, I would never pull a stunt like that in my own dorm, much less with Jade and Floyd around."

You don't believe him. Yet, you still found yourself spending the night in Octavinelle that night…

#twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul #twisted wonderland azul #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst reader insert #twst #disney twst #x reader #twst imagines #rio writes

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adrift-in-thyme · 3 months

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Febuwhump Day 14: Blood-Stained Tiles (Legend/Fable)

Ao3

Note: Two quick things! First, this will be my last Febuwhump fic. I’m overwhelmed with life rn and am not in the right headspace to continue this challenge. However, I have extra fics and ideas left over from it that I’m planning to write up later on. So keep an eye out ;)

Second, thanks for @ladye-zelda and @skyward-floored for the idea to do a zelink fic and specially Ladye for suggesting that I write something for flying tiles (and for reminding me that today is Valentines XD). And now onto your regularly scheduled fic

CW for blood and injury, torture, and loss of a finger

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Fable walks forward with steadfast determination. Anger burns in her veins, strengthening the magic that twirls gracefully about her fingertips. Her boots clack proudly across the tiled floor, announcing her presence without fear.

Let them know she’s here. Let them come. She is more than ready to face whatever horrors see fit to leap from the darkness.

More than ready to do whatever is necessary to find Link.

It has only been a short time since she entered the dungeon with him and the hero who calls himself Twilight. Her informants had claimed a group of thieves were making their base there. And as her and Legend had both agreed that no run-of-the-mill thief would hide out in this abandoned maze of deadly rooms, they had decided having some backup wouldn’t hurt.

…or she had stated that some backup wouldn’t hurt. Link had seemed strangely perturbed to have the rancher accompanying them.

“We’d be fine just the two of us, you know,” he had mumbled after Twilight cheerily agreed to her polite request. “It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”

But in the end he had acquiesced her wishes, even if it was with a slight — and rather adorable — pout.

Even having some aid, however, hadn’t been enough. The thieves that they had dealt with in the past were not quite the same caliber as the ones cloaked here. That much had become painfully clear when Link had led them into a room full of his most abhorred adversaries.

Flying floor tiles.

And, well, they had certainly flown. First at him, striking his shield despite Fable’s efforts to direct them elsewhere. And then, suddenly, without any rhyme or reason they had begun to drop.

Link had plummeted with a shout that was quickly silenced when his head connected sharply with another tile.

Try as she might, Fable has not been able to rid herself of the sight of his blood, sharp against the glowing white.

She shakes her head in another attempt now, as Twilight fits the last key into the large door. The door that leads to the place where bosses lurk, eager to devour their prey.

“Well, we certainly got here fast,” the rancher comments. The lock falls away, clattering to the floor. “Either these guys aren’t as thorough as we thought or…”

Fable drags in a shallow inhale. “Or they wanted us to come to them.”

The latter theory would certainly explain why when she and Twilight rushed out onto the tiles to try and save their friend, neither had fallen. The tiles had gone back to their usual state — bothersome and painful on contact, but not at all like the cracked ones designed to plunge you into the depths.

Something is going on here, and Fable has little enthusiasm for it.

The door is gliding up now, however, allowing them to step into gloom. And she has no choice but to square her shoulders and walk through.

There’s no backing down now, no matter what awaits her inside this cursed room. Not that that had ever been a choice in the first place.

Though, when the door slams shut behind her and Twilight and a collection of lanterns flicker on, she almost wishes that it was.

Rather than the gargantuan enemies Link had described to her, in the middle of the room a group of men and women stand. Some glare at her as she advances, the rancher close at her side. Others sneer. But their expressions have no effect on her.

The person kneeling amongst them, however, is a different story.

Fable gasps before she can stop herself.

“Oh, Link.”

Violet eyes meet hers, their usual sharpness dulled, pupils mismatched. A trail of blood streams down a small, angular face, stark against pale skin and blonde hair. A once pristine tunic is now dusty and torn.

They have bound him, both hand and foot, and fitted a gag between his pale lips. But he struggles against them anyway.

That fire of his hasn’t gone out, not yet. It won’t ever, if Fable has anything to do with it.

“Release him.” Her voice shatters the leering silence, the force of it belying the fear within. “Now.”

The cackles that meet her order are neither shocking nor welcome.

“Afraid we can’t do that,” one of the thieves says. He grins, showcasing a mouth of crooked teeth — some of which are missing.

(Fable would very much like to knock out a few more.)

“The Princess’ favorite little hero is too precious a treasure to just toss out.”

Another thief smirks. Something glints in his hand. Fable can feel Twilight grow even more tense.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t rough him up a bit.”

“Lay one finger on him and you’ll regret it,” Fable snaps, stepping forward. But the knife zips toward Link’s exposed neck and instantly, she goes still.

Twilight’s hand had rushed to clutch his sword. It falls now, back to lie at his side, balled into a fist.

“Try anything,” the grinning man hisses, “and he’s dead.”

Fury is boiling within her now, a surging mass of molten lava about to bubble over. Fable grits her teeth so fiercely she fears they will break.

“What do you want?”

“Simple.” That cursed smile grows wider. The knife presses closer. “We want free reign to do what we want. Without any royals or heroes intervening.”

Fable’s fingernails slice into the palm of her hand. Her magic calls out from within, begging to be set free.

“I cannot allow that.”

It is quiet for a beat. Then, the thief nods to one of his cohorts situated just behind Link.

“Well, ain’t that a pity.”

Everything happens so fast, Fable hardly realizes it. There is another glint of silver, the sound of ropes being split apart. Link’s hand is dragged forward, fingers splayed on the ground. His eyes widen as he tries vainly to break free.

The world slows for the slightest of seconds. The weapon comes down. Blood spurts.

Link’s scream is muffled. But it is sharp nonetheless, hitched at the end like a restrained sob.

Fable doesn’t doubt that it will remain in her mind forever.

“Every time you refuse,” the thief growls as she presses a hand to her mouth, fighting against the furious tears that press at the edges of her eyes. “We take off another digit. He won’t be much use to you without fingers, now will he?”

A low growl rumbles from Twilight. Anger radiates off of him. Fable swallows her own down.

They will have to strike and soon. She only needs to find a way to do so…

“Your Majesty.” The title is mocking and accompanied by a sweeping bow. “What is your decision? Will you grant us what we want or do you still need convincing?”

“Further convincing will not be necessary,” Fable grits out. Her gaze meets Link’s for a split second before she drags it back to his captors. “Set him free, and I will grant you what you desire.”

Twilight whirls, fury and fear dancing in his blue-gray irises.

“You’re just gonna give them what they want? With all due respect, Princess, they should be imprisoned for this, not given free reign!”

Crooked teeth glint in the dying light of weak lanterns.

“Seems someone still needs some convincing, after all.”

The knife shoots upward. Link’s face grows impossibly paler as he awaits its fall.

“No!” Twilight shouts, hand outstretched, panic in his voice. His body is taut, like a bowstring about to loose an arrow. “Don’t hurt him again!”

Fable steps forward and places a hand on Twilight’s shoulder. She can only hope some small reassurance is communicated through the movement. She certainly feels no reassurance herself at the moment.

“Return my knight to me, now. After we have healed him, we can discuss the terms of our…agreement.” She spits the word like the vile thing that it is. A deception dressed up in niceties.

The thief is silent for a moment, thinking. Then, he nods.

“Fine, then. But know if you don’t grant our demands, you’re never getting out of here. We’ve meddled with the magic just for that purpose.”

Self-satisfied chuckles drift throughout the group. Fable smirks, bitterly.

“Very well.”

Twilight glances at her and she meets his fiery gaze.

“Get ready,” she mouths, and his eyes grow large. Just as quickly, they narrow, determination in them. Ever so slightly, he inclines his head.

The thieves bind Link’s wrists again, ignoring his strangled whine as the ropes graze his injured hand. Then, they drag him over, a trail of dark blood weaving in their wake, and cast him at Fable’s feet.

In an instant, she is on her knees. With trembling fingers she undoes his restraints and frees him of the gag. He breathes a shaky sigh of relief as she hurls it away.

“I’m so sorry, Link,” she whispers.

Link offers her what she supposes is meant to be a reassuring grin. It is a flimsy attempt, however, with the blood draining from his hand and running down his forehead, the pallor of his face.

“Not your fault.”

Fable gives his uninjured hand a gentle squeeze. Then, she rises and squares her shoulders.

Magic zips through her veins and streaks outward, roaring about the space. It seeks the places where the spells have been rearranged and warped. The job is sloppily done — never would it have kept two experienced mages and a hero within its bounds — and easily fixed. In an instant, Fable feels the dungeon give a sigh of relief.

The pressure hanging in the dismal air drifts away.

The thieves don’t seem to notice the shift. But Twilight does. A grin lifts his lips, feral and sharp.

He and Fable exchange a glance, before she turns back to their opponents, head held high.

“We cannot grant you what you wish. But we will certainly give you what you deserve.”

Twilight leaps forward and draws his sword in one, smooth movement. Fable sends strands of magic zipping along in his wake. One by one, the thieves crumple, hardly knowing whether their fall was by weapon or sorcery.

They try to fight. Shouting curses and obscenities, they lunge. But their daggers and clubs are little match for the hero and princess. Even their sheer number cannot save them from the onslaught of magic and fierce fight.

And finally, there is but a single opponent remaining. The cursed one with the sadistic grin.

He is grinning no longer. His lips are pulled back in a snarl, eyes glinting as Twilight approaches.

Beside Fable, Link rises shakily, wavering on unsteady legs. It is only her quick hand that keeps him from falling.

“You,” the thief growls, even as the tip of Twilight’s sword presses toward his throat. Even as his companions lie scattered and limp. “You fools think you’ve outwitted us? Oh, you’ve got no idea the power we hold. We’ll bring you down. We’ll bring you all down!”

Scooping up a dagger fallen nearby, he lurches forward, aiming for Link.

Twilight and Fable are fast, but somehow Link is faster. Tightening his grip on Fable’s hand, he brings a booted foot up sharply. It connects with the thief’s chin. His head snaps back and he crumples.

Twilight turns, a slight smirk on his lips. “Nice one, vet.”

Link grins, even as he lists sideways, leaning against Fable’s shoulder. “Creeps can’t take one of my fingers without me getting at least one hit in.”

Fable winces as her gaze travels to the appendage still lying on the bloodied ground.

“I’m not the most knowledgeable on healing magic, but I believe I know enough to reattach it at least.”

“Our traveler can take care of the rest,” Twilight puts in.

“Well, that’s good news,” Link grits out, as the rancher helps him into a seated position. “I don’t have enough room for all my rings as it is.”

Fable’s lips quirk upward just slightly. Gently, she takes Link’s hand in both of her own.

“This may sting a bit,” she says, apologetically.

Link shrugs.

The spell she weaves is a simple one, though one she can easily compound upon, strengthen into something fit to remedy such a severe wound. The glow of it wisps outward from between their clasped fingers in soft clouds of purple.

Carefully, Twilight places the finger back into its rightful place. Link’s eyes flit to the side as Fable’s spell sews torn flesh together and melds broken bone. His pallor takes on a slight green hue.

“It will still be painful,” Fable tells him, when it is finished at last, “but that should hold until we can return to the castle.”

“The sooner, the better,” Twilight says, glaring into the shadows. “We never know what else could be waiting for us here.”

“I agree.”

Fable rises and Link with her. His trembling grip on her hand remains tight. A rush of relief speeds through her at the feel of it.

To think she had come so close to losing him again. Just as she had lost him on the furious seas, tossed about and driven to unknown shores. Far from home. Far from her. Lost in a dream too murky, too thick for her to reach him through.

The tears she has been restraining fight for freedom. Viciously, she shoves them back once more.

Walk forward, she tells herself. Escape this place and get your friends to safety. Then, you may feel the emotions within you. Then, you may break.

“Hey, Zelda?” Link’s voice is uncharacteristically subdued and lacks its usual sarcastic bite. She turns just in time to see him self-consciously rub the back of his neck.

“Thanks for coming for me. And for, you know,” — he huffs a humorless chuckle “— giving me back my finger.”

Fable smiles and it feels good to be able to do so again.

“Of course,” she murmurs, daring to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’ll always come for you. You know that.”

His cheeks flush a vibrant shade of fuchsia and he stumbles, tripping over his own feet.

Up ahead, Twilight chuckles. “No thanks for me, vet? I’m hurt.”

“Yeah, well, face it, rancher,” Link retorts, obviously still struggling to regain a more normal complexion, “you aren’t a beautiful princess.”

Twilight barks out a snort of laughter, and Fable feels her own face grow hot. Link’s words seem to hit him in the next moment, because suddenly he looks as though he wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

“Sweet Hylia,” he groans, “this is why I didn’t want you to come along!”

Twilight only laughs. And as they walk toward sunshine and safety, Link’s embarrassed spluttering follows them all the way.

#oh and happy valentines everyone!#thanks for reading!#febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump day 14 #blood tw #injury tw #loss of a finger #torture tw #linked universe #linkeduniverse fic #lu legend #lu fable #lu twilight #fable/legend #zelink #trin writes #whump #angst

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justblades · 2 years

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Hi!! Can I request for #1 shu? Thank you!

♡ MAKE LOVE WITH ME ! ➠ 100 EVENT

#1 SHU YAMINO ; ❝ do i look like i'm messing around? do i look like i won’t punish you? ❞ gender neutral! reader

WARNINGS ; nsfw, mdni ! real sorcerer shu in a modern world setting, dom! shu, bondage, marking. WC: 918

AN ; i hope you like it <3

"i'm sorry i failed to acquire this potion that you speak of, master." you return to his space after expediting for nearly a week to lay your hands upon the mysterious asset shu told you about, empty handed. your heart thumps loud against your ribcage, you see the male turn around you from his swivel chair with one swift movement, a somber yet sedate expression painted across his features.

he clasps his hands together, elbows propped up on both sides of the chair. his amethyst glazed irises then lock gazes with your wary ones, the weight of the worry and perturbation in your mind grow rapidly. "i gave you a week to do so, how come you did not find it?"

"apparently it was all too late; it got shipped into another country—" an abrupt sound of glass vials crashing on the marble floors from your back cuts you mid-sentence. as you look down at your feet, shards of glasses glint from the littlest light illuminating the whole room, you see puzzles of your reflection scattered all over the surface.

you forcibly close your eyes shut to ease the old habit of yours brooding over unaccomplished missions. you've known the sorcerer for 5 years already, you're well aware of the fact that when he does those as an attempt to shake you to the core, he's unsatisfied from the results you gave him. "i'm really sorry."

quietude resonates inside the whole room, the four corners slowly creeping into your body each second passing by. until then, the radio silence engulfing the place stops as you hear the slightest movements from the male.

shu rises from the cushioned seat and takes small steps towards you, his bizarre clothing sways along with each movement. "it can't be helped." he lifts his hand up and aims it at your direction while you look up at him, perplexed at what he's doing in the present time.

when all of a sudden, you were being lifted by an unknown force, the absence of gravity makes your body afloat. you were then being pulled to a particular direction, assuming it was shu's doing and braced yourself from the upcoming impact. you shut your eyes in hopes that things will flow smoothly somehow until a loud thud reverberates in the entire vicinity. laying flat on the desk table he uses for his experiments— arms pinned above your head and legs cuffed with magical bindings on the tabletop's edges. you grit your teeth as you try to break free when suddenly shu hovers over your helpless body, raven strands of hair brushing past your skin.

he inches forward to your body and whispers on your left ear, "i don't want an 'i'm sorry i failed to acquire this and that' i want the object i asked you to get." his hot breath ghosts a caress on the shell of your ear, raking shivers up and down your spine. as shu withdraws from your figure to look at you again, his fingers slowly trace the goosebumps breaking out on your skin.

"why are you reacting this way? are the things i'm doing to you tantalizing in your perspective?"

just as you were about to verbalize your thoughts in present, your voice seems to be absent. you couldn't speak the words you wanted to say out loud in exchange. you're there, mouthing inaudible musings while shu laughs at your pathetic actions.

"i cast a temporary spell on you that would prohibit you from saying anything for now. for some reason, my intuition is telling me you're taking this way too lightly."

befuddled at his choice of wordings, you lose track in the thoughts clouding your mind. "do i look like i’m messing around? do i look like i won’t punish you?" you aggressively shake your head in response as a firm 'no' to his question.

with one swipe he does on the air, he ceases all of your clothing in an instant. the shivering, chilly temperature from the dead of the night creeps to each of the nook and cranny of your body. "you understand why i'm doing this, no? this is a consequence of your failure to abide by my favors."

you nod, fully acknowledging the repercussion of not being able to accomplish what he asked you to do so. he starts off by flicking his tongue on your cheek, making his way all the down to your neck, sucking harshly on your sensitive skin. he does all of this while keeping his watchful eyes on you, pupils dilating from the pleasuring expressions you're showing to him.

shu's hands start to explore your body, roaming around your erogenous zones ranging from the neck, your perked up nipples and lower abdomen. he purposely casts a spell that allows him to manipulate an icy element from his fingertips— drawing lines and shapes on your naked skin.

the temperature leaves a bitter, glacial cold feeling on your body to the point that the parts he traced on went numb. you squirm as the feeling stays even when a short minute had passed already.

"do you know what i just wrote?"

not having the ability to speak irked you a ton, and so you shake your head for the nth time tonight in exchange.

"it's my name. i'm marking you to officially say i own you. come to think of it, we've been together for five years already.

and for some reason, you're blindly loyal to me, you just won't leave me."

#☹ soliloquartz 100 #shu yamino #shu yamino smut #shu yamino x reader #luxiem #luxiem smut #luxiem x reader #nijisanji #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji smut #nijisanji en x reader

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hendolish · 6 months

Note

I'm in desperate need of some more stonesford PLEASE -I was thinking how John was all over Ramsdale for some reason but then he seemed to remember who he belongs to lol

Pickford doesn't strike me as the jealous type however I think that it would drive *John* crazy that he can't make him jealous by being with the other goalkeeper anyway there's a story there somehow I believe it'd be interesting to see where it'd take us (hopefully some spicy loving for John )

john stones/jordan pickford | be with me ♡ (smut)

In the brisk chill of England's training ground, John stands beside Aaron, cracking jokes and leaning in closely to the goalie, their laughter echoing across the pitch.

Yet, despite the whispers and nudge-nudge-wink-winks of their teammates, Jordan appears to remain unfazed.

With his trademark self-assured grin, he’s the epitome of confidence. Never one to get easily jealous, Jordan continues with his training, tossing occasional, indifferent glances in John’s direction.

But John is more perturbed by Jordan’s lack of reaction than by any of the banter from the other lads. The centre-back, used to eliciting at least a hint of possessiveness from Jordan, starts to playfully escalate things with Aaron.

More body contact, standing as close together possible as if to huddle from the wind, gleaming smiles that aren’t too hard to draw from the blond.

However, Jordan’s nonchalance remains unbroken, driving John up the wall. He thrives on the fiery interactions and unspoken challenges the two of them usually share. But this? This cold indifference? It's uncharted territory for John.

After another training session filled with John’s antics, he corners Jordan in the dressing room.

“Why don’t you care?” John blurts out, frustration evident in his voice.

Jordan, lifting an eyebrow, smirks, “Who says I don’t?”

John, caught off-guard, stammers, “Me and Rammers. You haven’t said a word on it.”

Jordan shrugs, leaning in so close that their noses almost touch. “Maybe I trust you too much. Or maybe,” he whispers, a hint of mischief in his eyes, “I like watching you try so hard.”

John’s cheeks burn. Without another word, Jordan turns to leave, but not before grazing John’s arm with his fingers, sending shivers down his spine.

—

Later that night, as they sit on the balcony of Jordan’s hotel room, the tension is still sitting heavy in the air and the frown lines on John’s forehead.

Jordan finally breaks the silence, “You know you’re mine, right?”

John nods, wrapping an arm around the other’s shoulders. “Always have been. Just... missed this. Us.”

Jordan grins, planting a kiss on John's lips. “You don’t need to make me jealous. Just need you to be with me.”

When John can’t help himself and chuckles into laughter against Jordan’s mouth, the goalkeeper prepares himself with a sigh before asking dryly, “What.”

“Nothin’.”

John protests as he leans back to sit up straight and grin at Jordan, enjoying watching the other’s brows dip reproachfully.

“It’s fucking something. What is it?”

“Just didn’t expect you to come out with the romantic one-liners is all.” John tells him through a grin, earning himself a swat to his thigh that just causes him to laugh again.

Jordan shakes his head, “You’d rather I’d still be a prick to you, is that it?”

The grin that creeps onto John’s cheeks is mischievous as he leans back into the gap between them, tilting his head in apparent consideration, “…maybe sometimes.”

He watches the fire lick behind Jordan’s eyes and suddenly decides that that’s what he’s been missing all camp.

“You gonna do anything about it?”

John asks with a smirk, and Jordan’s lightning quick to respond, manoeuvring the both of them back into his room until the backs of John’s legs hit the bed.

“Sit,” Jordan orders, which earns him a raised eyebrow, “What? You wanted me to be a prick, so sit down.”

John sits on the edge of the bed after that, Jordan’s authoritative tone shooting straight to his cock and buzzing at his insides.

He’s used to hearing it on the pitch, but here… just for him, it’s got a very different meaning.

“You gonna suck my cock?”

Jordan asks as he takes John’s chin into one of his hands, directing his gaze upwards. Jordan trails his eyes across John’s face, cupping his cheek a little too gently before he seems to remember what he’s supposed to be doing and digs his fingers into the flesh there instead, “Hmm?”

John doesn’t let their eye contact break as he reaches forwards to pull down Jordan’s trackie bottoms and boxers all in one, allowing his cock to spring upwards, already hard at the sight of John sat before him.

It’s familiar when John takes Jordan’s cock inside his mouth. The head fat and wide as John closes his lips over it to suck before he’s licking downwards and covering what he can’t reach with his hands.

And John knows that Jordan loves seeing him like this, so he always does his best to put on a bit of a show: glancing upwards to lock eyes with Jordan when he can, swallowing as deeply as he dares, before pulling back to grin up at him.

He purposely presses Jordan’s cock against the inside of his cheek where Jordan’s hand rests and feels the effect it has on the other man as his hips jerk and thrust sharply into his mouth, causing John to splutter.

Even in this state, Jordan has the mind to mutter sorry, but then he’s following up that by asking, “Can I fuck your face?” To which John just hums and nods.

Jordan’s hands settle at the back of his head and bury themselves in his hair before he’s pistoning his cock into John’s mouth, grunting softly every time he hits the back of John’s throat and causes him to gag. Calling him a good lad, which has John frowning but not protesting.

“Gonna fucking come.”

Jordan tells him eloquently soon after, releasing the grip his has in John’s hair ever-so-slightly so he can reply when he asks, “On your face?”

John resits the temptation to roll his eyes and just tells him to do whatever he wants.

Three strokes of Jordan’s cock later, John finds his cheeks and lips spluttered with cum. He licks it off what he can with his tongue because he also knows Jordan secretly likes to see.

But before he gets it all, Jordan’s hand comes to rest against his cheek. Soft again.

“Fucking perfect, you,” He says, and John leans against his palm, “Fuckin’ perfect.”

♡

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jadelotusflower · 5 months

Text

Stargate rewatch: 1x18 Tin Man

Comtraya! It’s doppelgänger time.

I know some find Harlan annoying, but I love him. Just a lonely little robot who copied himself some friends.

The creator of the facility died 11,000 years ago, which put it 1,000 years before Ra first arrived on Earth - Harlan is the remnant of a very old civilization.

“This is your custom, yes?” The alien mirroring Earth greetings by holding out a hand rather shaking it never gets old. A nice touch that Harlan does it again when introducing himself.

Nice subtle reaction from Daniel to this as well- by instinct almost reaching out to shake but stopping himself since it would only confuse things, then when Harlan does his own little hand gesture starting to mirror it.

Janet drawing white fluid instead of blood from Jack’s vein is cool, as is the practical effect of him cutting open his arm to reveal machinery.

Another Jeff King episode, directed by Jim Kaufman (his only for the show).

Daniel saying he doesn’t feel any different - lol. His eyesight can’t be too bad if he didn’t notice he didn’t need his glasses anymore.

When Jack and Sam both say they know who they are there’s a cut to Teal’c looking perturbed, touching his stomach. Nice foreshadowing because Teal’c isn’t completely himself, the larvae mind blended with his own in the android body.

We got a bit of it in Cold Lazarus (also written by King, incidentally) but this is where Jack’s visceral hatred of doubles/duplicates of himself, and general lack of tolerance for androids/human form machines, really comes to the fore.

On one level I think it’s because Jack has such a strong sense of personal identity that it’s a case of “accept no imitations” on another he has a good amount of self-loathing and a duplicate is an easy target to unload that onto.

The twist of this episode, of course, is that the Jack we’re following is the duplicate.

“This way…just around the corner…just a few more steps, and home again!” Harlan is such a delight.

Nice musical cue to bring in the Goa’uld motif as Teal’c attacks Jack.

“Was not a copy made of me?” Aww, Teal’c feels left out.

"Harlan, people aren't meant to live forever" - well, doppleganger Jack certainly won't.

It's a shame they don't really touch on this concept with the ascended Ancient later on other than in subtext.

#stargate sg1 #stargate rewatch #1x18 tin man

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finnickyslut · 2 months

Note

*jingling an empty bowl* can I please have more truth-warping AU please?

Oh, god! Thank you for the interest, nonnie.

... I'm wholly unprepared for this.😳😬

This whole au has consisted basically in an idiotic amount of research (divorce in the UK during the 80s, Merseyside, air ambulance in the UK in 2007, overdose symptoms, treatment and survival window, and on it goes) and an even more ridiculous amount of me creating a choose your own adventure for any and every scene because I'm a scatterbrain. 😅

So! I'm going to try to focus on one thing (let's say the maze + overdose part) but let me preemptively apologize for any rambling, digressing etc.

...

One thing that was clear to me is that the maze scene needed to happen basically the same up to "you make my blood run cold" because it's what leads Oliver to the abyss. (And for a later scene in the hospital, but that's for another occassion.)

Apart from that, I thought several options would make sense and be interesting.

In scenario A, Oliver reaches the conclusion that Felix is upset because fake drama is unfulfilling and doesn't let him be the hero for real, so he just has to give him a real issue. Cue Oliver adulterating the bottle for himself and drinking enough to hopefully give Felix something pathetic enough to really chew on or a chance to save the day.

Here, the agitation/aggressiveness, labored breathing, paleness, and vomiting are early signs of overdosing, and Felix may take a small swig of the concotion but gets it taken off him soon enough. The background is different but the whole scene is almost identical except Oliver leaves the center of the maze with the bottle.

Otherwise, Oliver poisons the bottle because the only thing he knows is if his apology goes wrong there's no way both of them can leave the maze alive (that's actually part of what prompted this AU, the thesis that the inevitable end in the face of rejection wasn't necessarily Felix's death, but Oliver doing something extreme to one or both of them.)

With how definitive Felix's rejection feels, he decides he may as well put himself out of his misery.

He pushes himself off Felix, takes a long gulp while staring defiantly (reflecting on it later on, Felix will realize Oliver was actually taking him in for what he thought would be the last time), maybe makes a scorned comment, and leaves.

I'm any scenario, Felix takes a moment to calm himself (let's say 15 min), goes to take the easy way out, realizes Oliver went a different way, and something makes him take that path too.

He finds Oliver passed out and the bottle on its side. He looks terribly clammy, is unresponsive and something's wrong with his pulse .

Felix Takes him in his arms and gets out of maze as fast as possible. Goes looking for Duncan (Duncan always knows what to do and misteriously appears whenever he's needed). They call emergency services.

(At this point I pondered if the Cattons wouldn't have had med tent and discarded the notion because they're fabulously rich AND fabulously unprepared for things not going precisely their way.)

Btw, very conveniently for me and for Felix's chances on getting to ride with Oliver, it seems that the UK didn't have a night service for air ambulances back then.

Duncan and Felix follow directions from dispatch and decide to take care of things themselves because God forbid the party gets ruined (priorities!). Normally it's not advised to try to meet the ambulance along the way, but in this case, because Saltburn is pretty out of the way and has the gates and all, Duncan drives Oliver and Felix to the intersection with the main road.

At this point Felix is perturbed, distressed, and genuinely worried for Oliver, but his white knight streak is chomping at the bit, too. He needs to see this to the end, make sure both that Oliver gets out of the woods and that Oliver's family knows how deeply unwell he is and gets him some help.

Either they let him go in the ambulance because he was with the patient shortly before he went downhill and can give them details (Felix knows Oliver seemed mostly sober a couple hours ago at candle blowing and had certain symptoms less than 30 min before the call but was conscious. He suspects cocaine too because of traces in the bottle) orrrrr he conveniently mentions he may have drunk from the same bottle and potentially be patient 2.

Annnddd end scene.

Hopefully that was some of what you were curious about, but feel free to ask more, though I can't promise I'll know everything. As I said, this has just been bouncing aimlessly inside my skull. 🙈

Thanks again for your ask! 🤗

#cattonquick #truth-warping cattonquick au #ask #saltburn

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squarebracketsmileyface · 7 months

Note

Hi, I'm back, I have been rotating chapter 3 in my head all day.

...I'm Yours by Alessia Cara is Jam in this chapter to me...

Ooooooooooo another song to listen to awawawawwawa.

And damnit, the lyrics are perfect now I have to do a whole analysis on how they link up to Sorry it's locked lmao /nm

Andddd, this has turned out way too long. As always I swear. It's a whole damn essay, I'm so sorry, this fic has rotted my brain and I can't not babble everything I have about it. So:

SO lyrics.

Some nerve you have To break up my lonely And tell me you want me How dare you march into my heart Oh how rude of you To ruin my miserable And tell me I'm beautiful 'Cause I wasn't looking for love no

Obviously, Jay starts out reeeeeaaaaaally not wanting to fall in love again, not wanting to fall in love with Tim because of everything that happened with Alex. But he's also aware that he and Tim are kinda dancing around each other and that Tim is actively, though quietly, trying to make Jay realise that he likes him. Obviously Jay's a traumatised dumbass so to begin with didn't realise Tim actually liked him, and just thought it was a purely sexual thing, like what he had with Alex. Then he realised it was more than that and that scared him so he decided he wouldn't let himself get close with Tim in that way for fear of getting hurt.

Then, obviously, the "ruin my miserable and tell me I'm beautiful" bit is when Tim finally decided to say fuck it and tell Jay he likes him because Jesus Christ this man is either incredibly oblivious or purposefully dense. (it's a bit of both). The "how rude" part to me is about Jay feeling like Tim was lying when he said he likes how Jay looks, to make him feel better so that it'd hurt even more when Tim leaves him.

Nobody asked you to get me attached to you In fact you tricked me And I wasn't trying to fall in love But boy you pushed me

Basically about Jay feeling kind of like it's Tim's fault that he fell for him, like, not in a malicious way, just Jay kind of feeling perturbed by the fact that even given their situation Tim was and is still willing to try and make it work, to be kind and gentle with Jay. I don't know how to explain it, like, Tim flirting overtly, and also just generally being quietly caring and stuff, looking after Jay when he was out of it, encouraging him to get help too etc.

Jay almost feels betrayed by the fact that he's fallen in love again. Betrayed by himself, betrayed by Tim, even though he doesn't understand why he feels betrayed by Tim. It's just one of those muddled up feelings you get sometimes when your brain is panicking and just throwing out every thought and feeling to try and rationalise it. The actual reasoning is that Jay's subconsciously kinda assuming that Tim knows everything he knows (even though logically he knows he can't) about what happened with Alex. Which means that the fact that Tim is being so kind and caring and kinda flirting etc, makes Jay's brain feel like Tim's ignoring the fact that Jay doesn't want to fall in love again. Even though logically he knows Tim can't know he doesn't want to fall in love again. Y'know?

Tim's been quietly, gently, respectfully, pushing Jay's boundaries, like with the walking around shirtless etc. If Jay asked him to stop, even slightly insinuated he was uncomfortable with it externally, he'd tone it all the way back or stop completely, whatever Jay needs. But it's like that thing of challenging your behaviours so you can get over them. Tim's challenging Jay's fear of intimacy and commitment, but still trying to let Jay be the one to make that first move. (Tho eventually he does kinda give him a little nudge in the right direction, because jesus Jay is emotionally constipated)

You know that video of a dam being opened for the first time in ages? And it, like, starts off slow and there's sooooooo much much and silt and rubble, and then it gets faster and faster until it's just power washing the valley thing it's in? That's Jay's emotions. Nothing nothing nothing EVERYTHING! TAKE COVER!!! That's what happened when he just broke down and blurted everything out to Tim in chapter 3.

So all that I'm asking Is that you handle me with caution 'Cause I don't give myself often But I guess I'll try today

This bit is kind of more about chapter 4 in my mind than chapter 3, though it still works for chapter 3 anyway, just not quite as much. Jay is tentatively trusting Tim with his mental health, his relationship issues, (eventually his issues around sex as well, because he definitely does have some of those lmao, he can't not in my idea of how the stuff with Alex has affected him).

In chapter 3 Jay tells Tim most of what happened with Alex, all the way from uni to two years ago when they were alone together last, it's mostly a breakdown and then Jay going back in and clarifying what got lost in the crying, but a lot of it, when he's clarifying it all, is him asking Tim not to do what Alex did. Does he tell Tim the full truth about what happened with Alex, no, he dilutes it a shit tonne to make sure Tim doesn't think any of it is Alex's fault.

But Tim can kind of tell there's things jay is holding back.

He knows Jay is asking him to "handle him with caution" he just doesn't know how to do that because Jay isn't telling him everything and he knows that. Even before they kiss, he can tell this is Jay's way of putting little feelers out to see whether Tim's going to hurt him. Then, once he starts to trust that Tim won't hurt him, they kiss and Jay is kind of thinking "hey, maybe this could work, maybe I can try, even though through all the time he's been without Alex (between uni and 2 years ago, then between 2 years ago and now) he hasn't really managed to "give himself" very often, because his brain always went back to Alex. He was kind of dependent of Alex in a way?

Is that the right word? I don't think that's the right word, but the thesaurus isn't giving me a better one. Reliant? Like, he was reliant on Alex for his own feelings of self worth, kinda? And then 2 years ago Alex well and truly crushed what was left of that lmao.

'Cause I've had my heart Broken before And I promised I would never Let me hurt anymore

Chorus 1.

Pretty simple this one. Alex broke Jay's heart, ripped it and his self esteem and self worth and everything, to absolute shreds and then jumped up and down on the pieces, just to make sure Jay's mental health was well absolutely pulverised.

(He did it for the same reason he killed people, to save them. If he could make Jay hate him enough for Jay to stop investigating and forget everything that happened he could keep him safe. I NEEEEEEED people to know that Alex is just soooooo morally grey and mentally fucked up by the Operator in this, just like he is in the actual series. He genuinely loved and cared about Jay, it's just that that love got twisted and warped by the Operator. Then back in uni he was downright terrified of the fact that he was queer, so he jumped at the opportunity Amy provided, because he was Bi and Scared and she was perfect. I 100% stand by the fact that he definitely talked to Amy about what he and Jay had had and she helped him with it, helped him deal with the internalised shit... and also gave him an absolute earful about how he'd treated Jay in the end and how he needed to go and apologise to him —Alex never did, he was too scared of what Jay would think for that, and by the time he was ready to apologise, they'd lost touch. Then everything with the Operator started so he couldn't anyway—)

Tangent over lmao, uh, after Alex, Jay made a promise to himself to not fall for another unobtainable man, another person who just wanted him for sex, another person in general. He was too scared, and with all the stuff with the Operator there was no way in hell that he'd be able to heal from all the stuff with Alex, so if he wanted to start dating again or anything it'd have to be after all the Eldrich horror shit had ended. If he was still alive by then.

But I tore down my walls And opened my doors And made room for one So baby I'm yours Oh baby I'm yours Oh baby I'm yours Oh baby I'm yours Oh baby I'm yours But I tore down my walls And opened my doors And made room for one So baby I'm yours

Chorus 2.

This is definitely chapter 4 (and the possible oneshot I have planned for getting to write some more smut for Jam) where Jay finally tells Tim everything (not technically everything everything, but, like, everything about what happened with Alex, he's still gonna be a lil idiot and keep his emotions about it locked up tight, but y'know, he's getting there I guess)

He tells Tim about the kiss, and that finally kind of "tears down the walls" and "opens the door" etc for them to actually start sort of working towards a real relationship. They definitely have a longgggggggg way to go, but it's a start. It allows Jay to start genuinely trusting that Tim won't hurt him, allows him to genuinely trust that Tim likes and cares for him etc. It's just that kind of thing that lets them feel a little safer in each other than that would have otherwise.

I think specifically the "I tore down my walls" bit, like, Jay did that himself. Tim didn't barge in and tear those walls down, Jay started dismantling them himself, sure he had Tim's help, but it was still his decision to do it. Y'know?

Is it going to last forever? No.

Are the events of MH gonna happen anyway and tear them apart just like in the series, make them stop trusting each other etc? Absolutely. Tho I don't think I'm gonna go into that in chapter 4, that'll mostly be a happy ending for them (tho rest assured there'll definitely be a bit of angst in it, because who do you think I am?)

But yeah. "Baby I'm yours" Jay finally feeling like he's able to fully give himself to someone, sexually, romantically, everything, whereas with Alex it was only ever sexually. He didn't get his other, emotional, needs met through that relationship, he will with Tim. Even though Tim definitely doesn't really know what he's doing either. He has more of an idea than Jay though, even if he's probably only really able to express it/talk about it in a kinda clinical way.

(Honestly I feel like Tim would really struggle with not being super clinical in how he talks about emotions and stuff, like, sure, he doesn't sound exactly like a doctor necessarily, doesn't use scientific words, but given his childhood in the hospital, he'd definitely speak in a way that's very detached from what he's feeling. Like he's trying too hard to be rational and logical rather than looking at it as a whole, in a realistic way. Because if you completely ignore the emotional side of something, you can't be rational about it because you're entirely ignoring a whole part of what's happening. That's what Tim does. He removes himself from the situation emotionally, even with Jay —though I'd say that he either hides his detachment from everything better with Jay, or is slightly, slightly, more attached and in the moment and letting himself experience his feelings, with Jay—)

I'm mad at you For being so cute And changing my mood And altering my rude

This bit's also pretty self explanatory I guess, Jay being kind of, not actually angry at Tim, but just kinda disgruntled at how easy it feels like it was for him to help Jay to trust him. He's mad that he finds Tim cute, attractive, kind, caring, whatever. He's mad at how easy it feels like it was for Tim to help him change his opinion towards relationships etc. Cos like, for Jay I feel like it kind of all happened in the background for most of it, like he was subconsciously working through some of his shit about Alex, and then he gets to maybe a few months before chapter three and suddenly he's falling head over heels.

Tim fell first and fell longer, Jay fell harder and faster, y'know?

Do they both like each other the same amount? Yeah just about, Jay's probably a bit more obsessive with it, but because it's Tim this time he'll be able to keep Jay in check and keep him from becoming viciously dependent on interactions with him in order to inform his mood for the day. Y'know? Does that make sense? Like when every part of your mental stability completely hinges on your interactions with another person and if you think anything is wrong it sends you absolutely spiralling? Had a relationship like that once lmao, not fun. Anyway uh

What's wrong with you You make me sick For being so perfect What did I do What can I do, oh

Just more of Jay being lightheartedly pissed that Tim is so "perfect".

Honestly I feel like if I wanted to I could take these two in a toxic direction too, with Jay putting Tim on a pedestal and obsessing over the fact that he's "perfect." Y'know? Because compared to the end of Jaylex's relationship, the start of Jam's relationship would be pretty damn healthy. But comparing ends to beginnings isn't really an accurate comparison, y'know? Anyway, to begin with, Jay putting Tim on a pedestal would lead to him not being able to see Tim as ever having done anything wrong, but once all the small things pile up, or Tim fucks up in a big enough way, it could send Jay absolutely crashing down in an incredibly destructive spiral, because suddenly Tim's not "perfect" anymore, which means he must be just like Alex, which means he must be doing this maliciously, which could lead to allllll the pent up anger from across both relationships getting let out all at once, all at Tim, which would not be good for either of them.

(because Tim, unfortunately, is gonna be very pissed at Alex when he finds out about the kiss, and ends up managing to convince Jay to see Alex the exact opposite to how he currently does. So instead of Jay insisting none of it was Alex's fault, he'll believe that everything was Alex's fault and that he did it all maliciously, rather than what actually happened, which is that Alex's sense of reality and what would keep the people he cared about safe was extremely warped and he genuinely believed he was doing what's right. He was trying to save Jay. —I wanna write Alex's pov of after Jay leaves in chapter 2 at some point so I can kinda show both sides so it's more clear that no one but the Operator is really to blame.—)

I don't think I'll do that, but honestly who knows, it could be interesting to think about. More angst lmao.

And I wasn't trying To melt this heart of iron But the way you hold me Makes the old me pass away

Again, Jay just sort of lightheartedly lamenting the fact that he fell in love without trying to. He wasn't trying to lower his walls, but it just sort of happened because Tim genuinely made him feel safe. Or safe emotionally. Physically? While they're being hunted and haunted? Nah, not possible really. But emotionally, yeah, Jay feels safe with Tim.

And of course, Tim is very free with cuddles and kisses and gentle, innocent touches, which Jay never really got with Alex unless it was under the guise of aftercare, so that's chipping away at the very old, very rusted on distrust of affection and romance etc. The way Tim holds him makes him feel so different to how he felt when Alex held him.

And I would be lying If I said I wasn't scared to fall again But if you promise me you'll catch me Then it's okay

Just Jay talking about his fear of falling in love again, simple simple. Him trusting that Tim will catch him, won't let him get hurt as he falls. Maybe not even that, maybe not even trust that Tim will catch him, more just that Tim has promised he will, so that on its own is enough for Jay, because with Alex the idea of them ever actually dating was always very quickly shut down because Alex was scared.

Chorus 1 and 2 again

Oh I hate that I Spend my days just wasting time Day dreaming 'til I see you again I'm not used to this

Very much kinda deviating from the exact lyrics of the song here, but to me this bit kind of could be about those months where Jay was all fucked up after they ran into the Operator at Alex's old house. He feels like they wasted time, that he wasted time daydreaming about Tim (because from what he remembers of that morning it seems like Tim was being extra caring towards him, which, unsurprisingly, he kinda daydreamed about and stuff, idk) but like, he's just not used to being taken care of like that, being taken care of like Tim clearly has. He saw it in the entries, he saw it when he woke up and Tim didn't realise he wasn't all fucked up anymore.

Oh I used to be so used to boys just using me For you to be you to me Feels new to me

Lmao well damn. Uh. Self explanatory. Very much self explanatory. Alex was never fully himself with Jay, because of all his internalised bullshit, and Jay honestly doesn't know what was real or not with Alex. Was Alex being nice to him two years ago the real Alex? Or was Alex yelling at him and insulting him and scaring him in the kitchen the real Alex? He doesn't know. Whereas with Tim it feels a lot more straightforward. He feels like he can tell what's real and what's not with Tim. And he feels like he hasn't seen the 'not real' part yet, and hopes he never will.

Though I guess that could be a little dangerous if Tim was being manipulative, because Jay's so caught up in the whole "the first thing Tim did to show him he likes him is the last thing Alex tried" that he wouldn't even realise if that kiss from Tim had purely been done to cause just this. A complete dumbfounded-ness in Jay because he was shown a bit of "genuine" affection straight off the bat. That's not what's happening. Tim just actually likes him and wants to date him etc. But ooooo the evil that it could be if I wanted to make all of Jay's lil love interests into toxic ones. Tho I guess he's a lil toxic too, so.

'Cause I usually cheer for the bad side Love under a bad sign So it makes me mad I'm Falling again Falling again

Self explanatory. Or I guess explained by everything else I've already said, because jesus this is so long and I do not need to reiterate the same thoughts again

Chorus 2 again.

Honestly if you read all of this shit, damn, because why did I write this much? It's a freaking essay lmao. I don't care tho because this fic has eaten my brain and I will rant about it for hours if I can. I love it so much. I get to put so much of myself into both Jay and Tim and awawawawawwawawawawwawawawa

#im so sorry this is so long. i just love these lil guys and this lil (large) fic so much #anyway. enjoy the essay. i love analysing songs and song lyrics so i can better go:#THIS IS ABOUT MY LIL GUYS. LOOK ITS ABOUT MY LIL GUYS. LEMME TELL YOU ALL ABOUT MY LIL GUYS #marble hornets #jay merrick #tim wright #alex kralie #mh jam #jaylex #marble hornets fanfic #MH sorry its locked

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bi-demon-ium · 1 year

Text

for @mvshortcut, based off this

"Hm," said Rhonda again.

She had hmmd in Milligan's general direction about six times now. Number Two had given up after three, and was now sipping her tea, looking rather perturbed.

Milligan calmly folded another shirt. He was doing laundry. He did not ask her what she was hmming about.

"Hmmmm," said Rhonda, drawing it out.

Milligan calmly folded another shirt.

"HM," shouted Number Two.

Milligan set the folded shirt down. "Would you like me to retrieve you some cough drops?" he asked gravely. "Or perhaps. some tea."

"...I have tea, thank you," Number Two said, voice a little hoarse.

"Ah," Milligan said. He calmly folded a pair of pants, placing them carefully and gently in the basket. "Water, then? For either of you?"

"We're fine," Rhonda said, innocently. "Why do you ask?"

Milligan slowly lifted his head to look at her. She smiled angelically.

He blinked, slow, like a lazy cat lounging in the sun. "No reason," he said, and went back to his laundry.

"This clearly isn't working," Rhonda said to Number Two, at normal volume, as if Milligan wasn't right there.

"Yes, I can see that," Number Two all but hissed.

"Do you need something?" Milligan asked, still calm. His lips were twitching a little, not that they had noticed. His question went unanswered.

"Should we just give up on the subtle approach?" Rhonda asked.

"Subtle?" Milligan asked the vest in his hands. "Huh."

"I think so," Number Two said. "Hey, Milligan?"

"Yes?" Milligan said, as if he hadn't been here the whole time.

"So," Number Two said. "You know how you're in love with Mr. Benedict?"

Milligan blinked at her. "Yes?" he said.

"Well, you a--what."

Milligan tilted his head as if he were confused. Number Two and Rhonda both stared at him.

At this exact moment, Mr. Benedict walked in, carrying a small plate of snacks. "Oh, I got s--whaaaaat is happening?"

Milligan turned to address him. "Number Two and Rhonda were just informing me that I'm in love with you," he said blandly.

Mr. Benedict's eyes went huge. "Uh," he said, sounding a little small. "What?"

"You know," Rhonda said. "I really thought we had timed this better."

"Good news!" Number Two said, turning to Mr. Benedict. "We were right! Bad news! We're really confused!"

"Hm," said Milligan, in a tone that immediately clocked to Number Two and Rhonda as downright dangerous. Not dangerous in the scary way, mind you--dangerous in the you have been fucking HAD way.

Then, almost conversationally--folding another goddamn shirt--he said, "Did you know that sound carries in the vents?"

"...hm?" Rhonda said.

"This is an old house," Milligan said. "You can hear all sorts of things. Thin walls. Echoing vents. Acoustics."

"...ah," said Mr. Benedict, getting it before the rest of them did. "If you'll all excuse me, I believe there is a small vial of non-lethal poison upstairs with my name on it."

"No tranquilizing yourself to get out of awkward conversations," Number Two said almost automatically, as if this happened often enough that she had memorized the reprimand.

"Got any good jokes?" Mr. Benedict asked Rhonda.

"I'm leaving," Rhonda announced. Having now effectively caused the chaos, she was happy to let it simmer. Far away from her.

"Yeah, that tracks," Mr. Benedict said.

They all stared for a moment longer. Rhonda abruptly turned on her heel and left.

"Shit," Number Two said. "I mean--heck--hecking. darn. Fuck. Okay, I'm going. Have fun."

And Milligan and Mr. Benedict were left alone.

"Hm," said Milligan.

"I," Mr. Benedict said, "Have been hmmd at. far too often this week."

"I can imagine," Milligan agreed.

Mr. Benedict stared down at the tray in his hands, which he was still, inexplicably, holding.

"...lemon bar?" he asked, holding it out.

Milligan gingerly took a lemon bar and took a delicate bite. "Hm," he said, looking down at the clean laundry below. "Crumbs."

"...ah," Mr. Benedict said.

Milligan took another bite. "Very sweet," he commented. "Thank you."

"Aaaaaanytime," Mr. Benedict said, rather awkwardly. "Er."

"You.... are. also. sweet," Milligan said, slightly stilted.

Mr. Benedict blinked. "Ah? Um. Thank you?"

"...anytime," Milligan said, looking like he wanted to strangle himself even as he said it.

"..............well," said Mr. Benedict. "That poison won't drink itself."

"Nicholas."

"I'm ki--wait, did you just call m--"

Mr. Benedict collapsed face first into the laundry, asleep.

"...hm," said Milligan, looking down at him. Then he quickly moved to help him into a more comfortable position.

"Wow," said Rhonda, two rooms away. "You really can hear sound through the vents."

"This is hopeless," Number Two said. "They're hopeless. I hate this."

"They'll figure it out eventually, eh?" Rhonda said, patting her shoulder sympathetically.

"You'd think so," said Number Two, who had been here longer. "You'd think fucking so."

[ao3.]

#my writing #snippet #nicholas/milligan #mysteriousfisherman

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quinnkdev · 1 year

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MfLDoP #3 - Inland Empire

Not the Disco Elysium skill, the David Lynch and Laura Dern film!

@sev-wildfang and I sat down together this evening to watch it. We were unsure at the beginning - still finding our footing in its tonal and technical idiosyncrasies - but soon we got extremely into it, and both left it saying it may be our new favourite movie.

Having recovered from the adrenaline rush, jury’s kind of out on that until I give it a rewatch. What I do know is that it’s my new favourite thing Lynch has participated in - moreso even than Twin Peaks.

More under the cut - spoilers throughout.

Inland Empire may just be Peak Lynch for me. Here is where his work culminated, and from here, it scatters out again. Having seen Twin Peaks: The Return earlier in the pandemic, I loved a lot of what it was doing, but felt it was bogged down by its connections to what came before, as self-aware and critical as it was about them. Sev said it after our watch - Inland Empire is free of any sequel baggage, it gets to be itself: Self-contained and decently long, but not so long that it becomes drawn-out.

There is a lot to love about Inland Empire’s cinematography - at least if you can take that kind of thing for what it is, not what it’s “supposed” to be. For one, the frame rate of the version we watched was unedited: The film was 60 FPS, which was immediately noticeable in a perturbing way.

Being shot on 2000s-era digital cameras, a constant air of hyperreality sat on everything: It felt like we were looking at a documentary, or at somebody’s wedding recordings - not a film. It felt more real than Lynch’s movies ever did, and that’s what made it horrifying.

Usually, you get to pat yourself on the back a bit, after viewing a Lynch film, and say: “Nothing this nightmarish could ever happen in the real world. People don’t act like that.” That, of course, is a lie we tell ourselves to be able to stash away the discomfort over very real problems often featured in those films- But for a hard-to-describe reason, seeing the characters and their perturbing actions displayed in 60 FPS, and with the aesthetic of a home video, puts them in a different, more immediate light.

Speaking of light: An important motif in the movie. It’s frequently used to determine era, location, mood, psychological space and otherwise. Hell, near the end, somebody is shot with a gun that shoots light - not as in a laser, but as in a spotlight that manages to kill a character.

Another thing that lent the film more flavour, and I think improved it for me, was some of the stage-like set designs featured in it, as well as the fact that it, unlike most other David Lynch-directed movies, didn’t exclusively take place in the U.S. Something about seeing European actors on-screen speak a European language (Polish), and some scenes - apparently - being shot in a European city made it all less drab and uniform, stand out from the others. Lynch’s Americana is nice and all, but it’s good to know that he has - at one point at least - done something else, too.

Laura Dern’s performance was intense! Not exactly nuanced, but very intense. Often, she was just reacting to things, and her face-acting for those close-ups was pretty challenging, if occasionally excessive. The coolest stuff from an acting perspective is mostly front-loaded in the movie, when she, playing Nikki Grace, plays a character as Nikki Grace. Lying while lying is always tough; she does it pretty well, and even later when her performance turns more reactive, it occasionally returns.

Plot was this movie’s least interesting aspect - at least what was intelligible of it on a first watch. The usual skewed portrayal of women rears its head, sudden violence, ableism... It’s more subdued than in other Lynch movies, but it’s still there in parts of the plot, and as elsewhere, it’s been used by Lynch so frequently that it becomes hard to know whether he is condemning or reveling in what he’s portrayed.

Finally, the ending it left us with was... interesting? In a strange way, it felt like what we were seeing was a happy end, though why we felt a sense of closure from it, neither Sev and I could - at first - say. The ending felt pleasant, and like an appropriate come-down after the tour-de-force before it.

Absolutely would recommend.

#Media for late-days of peace #inland empire

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marcellussorina · 1 year

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CHAPTER 2

WARNINGS - Not Real, Fiction, Swearing

“This new group of recruits seems to be taking you longer to train, Marcellus.” Mithos was leaned up against the wall and clearly perturbed as Marcellus was taking out his frustrations on the black bag hanging from the ceiling. He’d come in when Marc had been sparring with one of his Sergeants, but after he’d almost broken the other demon’s jaw, the sparring had ended. Safer to be hitting something inanimate while Mithos talked.

“Well, I got handed a bunch that are greener than spring grass, Mithos. What would you like me to do with them? Send them up against the trained warriors of one of the Princes to be mulch?” There was a solid thud as one of his gloves hit the bag. Marc wasn’t sure who it was that had chosen this new crop of recruits but humans might have been better in his opinion. Most of them barely had a grasp of their mystical abilities, let alone anything resembling hand-to-hand abilities. And cocky? Oh they were that in spades, and then some.

“It’s your job to make them ready and to do so in a hurry. You know that Mammon and Beelzebub have also gone AWOL in the war that the Princes are having against one another and us. This can only mean that they are planning something and we are not going to have the luxury of time forever.” Mithos’ words were clipped and his tone slightly annoyed. He would have preferred that Thinius have this conversation with Marcellus. The two got along better, but the chaos demon was otherwise occupied and so it fell on him.

Marc stopped and faced Mithos. “I do not need YOU to tell me what MY job is. I’m fully aware of what it is. I’ve been doing it for some time, and if you have a problem with it..”

“Yo! LT! Class is about to start. Are you going to do this with me, or do I get all the fun of kicking their asses by myself?” Sorina’s head was popped around the doorframe of the training room that Mithos and Marcellus were in. When both men’s annoyed faces turned to look at her, she waved.

“Well?” She prodded when no answer came, The class was supposed to be hers alone, but hearing the fight about to go down between the two elder demons, she was throwing him a lifeline. Mithos was on edge because of the women who would soon be in Imperium. The last thing anyone needed was Mithos and Marcellus going head to head. They were both too important.

“You know better. Get your ass in there and I’ll be there in a second. I just lost track of time.” Marcellus jerked his chin in the direction he knew that class was going to be, catching what she was doing. He’d have to thank her for it later.

Turning back to Mithos, he brought his tone back down to a respectful one. “Captain, I know my job and I assure you I’m doing it. I have good staff like Sgt. Malchenko helping me. If you have a problem with any of them, please let me know and I will address it ASAP. Otherwise, I do need to go to that class.”

Mithos hated this part of his job. Supervising the Royal Guard, that was easy. Taking on the legion and those he knew less, that he was less comfortable with. He was still learning them and he did not have Thinius’ personality, so it was made harder for that. “I have nothing more to add at this time. If Captain Thinius or I do, we will let you know. Go to your class.” A curt nod was the only reply he got before Marcellus turned and headed out of the room.

By the time that Marc had made it down to the class, Sorina had already taken two of the cockier recruits out. One was getting healed for a broken femur and one had a head wound. Marc had to chuckle as he shut the door behind him and threw his boxing gloves on a bench. She knew how to make an impression, and there was still misogyny in the demonic world as there was with humans.

“Take five everyone, our Lord Lt. Liotti has daned to grace us with his presence, so we’ll let him have a minute.” Sorina teased the class, which got groaning. They knew what was coming, and it was more of the same fun she had been dishing out.

“Manage to get yourself demoted, LT?” Sorina asked as she sauntered over, a sassy smirk playing at her lips.

“Not today. This beautiful distraction popped in and saved me from it.” Marc winked at her, not having missed the way her hips swayed when she had walked over. Then again, he never missed that, only a blind man could. “Always trying to help, boss. Someone has to keep your ass out of trouble, Lucifer knows you’re not able to do it yourself.” Her head tipped back to look up at him, smirk still in place. She lived for teasing him.

“What do you think I keep you around for, Sgt? Just your looks?” Now he was the one smirking as his eyes took in the trainees in the class. The male and female demons looked decent, but he had a feeling they weren’t. None of the recent classes had been. “It takes more than that to handle these hooligans, not to mention the idiot Princes.” His eyes rolled before looking back down at her. “So, I guess I’ll keep ya for now.”

“For now? Well, if you decide that I’m too much work, I’m sure that there’s another Lieutenant who needs a First Sergeant out there.” Now her smirk took on a smug air that was mirrored by her expression and the tone of her voice. They both knew she had been offered other positions, but one thing that Sorina was, was loyal.

“Not a chance, Malchenko. You’re not getting out of working for me that easy. Nice try though.” He winked at her. If another Lieutenant tried to steal her, they’d go missing. “Now, let’s see what these students of yours are made of.” He grinned and looked up at the class. “Okay, which one of you wants to be first?”

#The Imperium Chronicles #My Writing #Writeblr #New Chapter #fiction #fantasy #demons #sorina #marcellus #writing #female writer #swearing #mithos #writers on tumblr #flirting

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indigokashmir · 7 months

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Avian Reunions: When Feathery Friends Return

Heartwarming Encounters with Bruges, The Punk, and More in the Garden.

My friend Bruges has just returned. I was in the midst of gardening and relocating plants when I heard a soft "Hoo! Hoo!" from above. Initially, I thought it was one of the blackbirds engaged in conversation with another, but the sound persisted until I looked up. To my delight, there she was—my dear friend—gazing down at me from the tree. She was communicating with me! So, I enthusiastically greeted her with, "Hey! It's wonderful to see you again. I have just the thing you need!" I promptly headed indoors, retrieved some raisins for her, and she descended to partake in the treat. Afterward, she took flight like the free-spirited bird she is, leaving me with a heart warmed and a broad smile across my face. She dined so close to me! Also, my friend The Punk has returned, and she's as disheveled as ever. That's just her way!

Both Bruges and The Punk were born in 2018 and have known me since the first summer I began putting out food for them. The Punk appears to be showing signs of aging. I earnestly wish for them to enjoy a long, fulfilling life.

In other news, sparrows have grown remarkably accustomed to my presence. This morning, I nearly placed my flower pot on top of a robin. He really ought to stop sneaking about and make his presence known! Thankfully, he didn't seem too perturbed. My two robins always make appearances in the garden when I'm around. The male has been diligently feeding the female, and they don't seem to mind my observation. On occasion, they both perch on my feet! These feathered companions of mine are truly special, demonstrating their affection and gratitude.

Yesterday, at around 8 pm, I peered out of the kitchen window and locked eyes with a male blackbird perched on the branch of my plum tree. He was clearly in search of sustenance. I offered him some raisins and a couple of blueberries. Without hesitation, he swooped down and practically raced toward the food. He then uttered a "Pok! Pok!" in my direction, to which I warmly replied, "You are most welcome, my friend.

#Garden Stories #Blackbirds #Robins #Friendly birds #Gardens

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ichorai · 3 years

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pearls and pastries ; j.jk

pairing ; pirate!jungkook x baker!reader (gender-neutral)

summary ; a crew of pirates have been pilfering your village for several weeks now and one particularly keen buccaneer has stopped by your bakery practically every visit; whether it be for the delectable pastries or for the sweet baker he's taken an interest to, jungkook couldn’t say. but there’s a catch - the baker doesn’t know that he’s a pirate.

themes ; fantasy, angst, fluff, pining, slight action, pirate au, baker au, medieval au

words ; 3.6k

warnings / includes ; descriptions of weaponry, stealing (from the rich), jungkook being a sad lovesick sap, pirate!bts, poetic sadness but when do i not do angst lmfao everything i touch turns into written sorrow </3

a/n ; written for the @ficscafe fic exchange event for @sunshinerainbowsbts !! i hope you like it <3 i'm definitely considering writing a part two to this :D

Jungkook wasn’t quite fond of parrots. Well, his mislike wasn’t necessarily directed towards the multi-hued rotund bird itself, but the fact that the wretched thing was squawking out a poor rendition of what Jungkook had announced earlier whilst clambering down the crow’s nest.

“I’m going to the bakery! I’m going to the bakery! I’m going to the bakery!” the winged devil screeched from atop Jimin’s shoulder, ruffling its bright feathers as if taunting him.

Shooting it the nastiest of scowls, Jungkook reached behind his head to untie the vermilion bandana holding his overgrown locks away from his narrowed eyes. “You better shut that bird up before I toss it to the sharks, Jimin.”

“If I let you do that, I’d also have to throw you overboard. The both of you are equally annoying,” the other pirate snorted in contempt, glancing up at his younger friend striding across the ship before moving his gaze back to the knapsack he was emptying for the pilfer. Out fell several empty bottles of rum, a few gold pieces glinting in the harsh midday sun, two jewel-encrusted daggers, and a worn eyepatch that suspiciously looked to be the same as the one Yoongi always wore over his left eye. “You seem to forget that we’re here to steal from the rich, not buy fancy breads! You’re lucky that Namjoon has half the decency not to kick you off the boat. Jin, however fond he is of you, still calls you a moocher.”

Rouge faintly dusted across Jungkook’s cheekbones as he coughed into his fist, lifting his shoulder in a half-shrug. “I steal stuff sometimes,” he muttered under his breath. It was useless to defend himself against someone who saw straight through him.

“Sometimes, my foot!” Jimin scoffed, hiking the bag over his shoulders. “Bringing back a goblet you found rolling down the street doesn’t count, you know that, right?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes to the cloudless sky, far too stubborn to admit that Jimin was right. With not another word, the young pirate clambered off of the large vessel and onto the rickety docks, grunting upon landing. It didn’t bother him much that Jimin was irked at his lack of contribution. They were rich enough as it is; what was the rush?

The air was tangy with sea salt and damp wood as he inhaled a deep breath, setting off for your bakery. Walking there took exactly three hundred and seventy two steps. Jungkook had memorized the shortest route to your little shop, mumbling the numbers under his breath with a growing grin blossoming across his lips. He subconsciously rolled the sleeves of his white tunic down, the fabric concealing the pirate tattoos inked all over his arms.

When the youthful sea wolf stepped foot into your store, a familiar chiming of the bell hooked atop the door echoed across the cream-walled room. At the reverberating sound, your head peeked out from the kitchen situated in the back. An illuminating beam danced on your features, eyes lighting up with mirth at the sight of Jungkook.

It made the muscle within his chest slam against his ribcage, desperate to be freed from its confines because it belonged to you, and only you. He wasn’t quite sure when the sudden fixation for the village baker his crew was stealing from started, but he had acclimated to his own change of heart by visiting you as often as he could.

“Fancy seeing you here today. Are you coming in or are you now my human door stopper?” Your heavenly voice floated towards Jungkook, snapping him out of his thoughts. Sheepish, he shuffled inside, engulfed by the warm scents of chocolate cakes, powdered pastries, caramelized fruits, and toasted almonds. His stomach gave an impatient snarl at the sight of tempting desserts. You had also walked to the front of the counter, dusting your flour covered hands on an apron. Some of the white powder had managed to smudge on your cheek, and Jungkook had to resist the urge to reach over and thumb it away.

“Hi,” he said with the brightest of grins. “I’ve missed you.”

At his bold statement, you suppressed a chortle. “I think you missed those chocolate cream puffs you like so much, not me. What’ve you been up to while you were gone?”

Jungkook hesitated at that. For the short amount of time he’d been visiting you, not once had he mustered the courage to tell you of his true origins. A savage pirate like him shouldn’t even be around the likes of you. You had no idea that he was part of the crew that was robbing your village, and the very thought of you finding out had him terrified. You were a taste of all the goodness in the world, and Jungkook was afraid you’d crumble into ash if he dared touch you. The sinner had no rights touching an angel, after all.

“Visiting family,” he hummed, quick to move on. If you noticed his strange demeanor, you didn’t say anything. For that, Jungkook was grateful. “I brought something for you.”

There was something about your smile that seemed to expel any and all feelings of gloom in a room. Jungkook was no exception to this feat, his knees almost buckling against the soft pink counters. He righted himself by leaning his elbows on top and propping his chin up with a palm. Gods, he didn’t know he was in this deep.

“Oh?” you set your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side. “To what do I owe such pleasures?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “For those cream cheese tarts you made me last time I visited. Thought I’d repay you.” Whilst saying this, he used his free hand to reach into his back pocket, fishing out a string of authentic pearls, adorned with a glimmering clasp of gold the same hue as the sun.

Your smile melted into a confused pucker, brows knitting together in a muted painting of hesitance, yet you ogled the expensive necklace dangling by one of his spindly fingers nonetheless. Where on earth had he gotten such a valuable treasure? “But you already paid me with money. I really can’t take that, Jungkook.”

Disappointment was easily detected as he slanted his lips to the side. “Alright, then.” He tucked the pearls back into his pocket. It surprised you how easily he had complied.

The worrisome atmosphere was quick to dissolve when the bell jangled once more. A small child meandered in with a toothy beam, holding a small pouch of clattering coins in their palm. They were no taller than Jungkook’s midriff, and he liked it a little more than he should have watching a certain softness adorn your features at the sight of the kid.

“I recommend the cinnamon apple pie. Or maybe the brown sugar crepes if you’re looking for something sweeter,” Jungkook said, gesturing to the treat behind the display glass. The child angled their head to stare at the taller man with wonder. “Anything Y/N makes is to die for, though.”

The child excitedly babbled something in return, but you didn’t quite pick up what they had said. You were far too focused on Jungkook’s animated features when he kneeled down to point at some more desserts. Sure, he was a handsome man, you’ve known that since day one. You’ve never really looked at him in this light. It was as if he were carved from pure luminosity, whittled by the hand of the most skilled sculptor. Everything about him was practically perfect; the gentle slope of his nose, the angles of his raised eyebrows, the dappled rouge of his lips, the beauty marks mottling his dewy skin, the dangerous cuts of his jaw, the twinkle of gaiety you found in his irises. With the sunlight filtering through the windows, it basked Jungkook within a golden radiance, the shadows casted along his face only highlighting his best features, doing nothing to aid your fluttering pulse. Has he always been this beautiful?

“I’ll have a slice of apple pie!”

The sudden clinking of coins being dumped onto the counter snapped you out of your trance, and you kindly wrapped up what the child ordered and handed them the paper bag. Both you and Jungkook watched as they smiled in thanks and trotted out of the bakery. Curse his handsome physique.

A little flustered by your earlier thoughts, you busied your hands by sorting the coins the kid had coughed up. Jungkook, ever the kind soul, merely stood with you as you worked, engaging you in entertaining conversations to keep you occupied while your store was empty. Where did the sun go once it disappeared down the horizon? Why did everybody else seem to enjoy the bitter taste of coffee except him? Why did his heart beat so quickly when around you? The last question he couldn’t muster the courage to ask, and much to his perturbation, he already knew the answer. You enjoyed Jungkook’s company very much; to the point where you couldn’t quite remember what it was like before he had sauntered into your life.

Before the both of you knew it, the sun was already setting. Jungkook noticed the way you deflated just slightly when red kissed the sky. It was a telltale sign that Jungkook was long overdue to go back to his ship. Yoongi would have his ass if he was late again. The whole situation was ridiculous, really. He felt like a fairy tale princess running away from the ball before his clothes grew into tatters. Well, in his case, he supposed it’d be pirate-wear.

Your smile betrayed only the gentlest hint of disappointment as you thrusted a bag of warm cookies into his arms. “Take this for the road,” you had said.

And so Jungkook did, smiling like an idiot the whole way back. A part of him absentmindedly wondered what your face would look like when you noticed that he had left the pearls on the countertop for you.

The ship rocked as the young pirate scampered across the deck at a startling speed, flinging the doors to the cabins open. Six older pirates stared at his panting form, a few looking on with unsurprised indifference, most glaring at him in disappointment. Jimin merely stuck his tongue out, his childish way of saying I told you so. There was expectancy in the captain’s eyes, but it waned away at an instant upon seeing that Jungkook carried nothing of value. Namjoon pinched the space between his brows in mild frustration.

Stiffly, Jungkook jerked his arm to thrust the bag in his hand forward. “Cookie?” he asked. Nobody said anything. Jungkook slowly brought his appendage back down, guilt roiling in his abdomen. “I take it you guys don’t want the cookies?”

With a huff, Namjoon stalked forward. “Of course we want the cookies, give me that.” He snatched the bag out of Jungkook’s hands and tossed it to Taehyung, who caught it with eagerness vividly splayed across his ruffled features. “I do have to admit, we’re getting tired of you bringing back nothing but sweets every time we go on raids, Jungkook. C’mon, kid, this is a team effort here. Look, just today Yoongi managed to steal a dozen coffers from a nobleman. The least you can do is try.” True to the captain’s word, there was a mountain of chests and boxes full to the brim with gold coins and shimmering jewels piled to the side of the cabin.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Jungkook nodded in understanding, though not without a miniscule frown twinging his lips. What was a pirate without his treasure, right?

Taking note of his glum demeanor, Namjoon clapped a hand to the younger man’s shoulder. “We’re not mad at you—”

Yoongi snorted at that.

“We just… want to help you help us,” Namjoon finished, ignoring the salty pirate’s quip from behind him.

The youngest man on deck raised his hand to his forehead in an awkward salute. “Yes cap’n!” Shame prowled within his chest; just thinking about the dishonor he brought to the pirate reputation by loitering in a bakery all day, ogling at sugary treats (and the sweet baker, but Jungkook digresses).

A part of him felt even worse knowing that he’d see you less and less, what with the other pirates breathing down his neck. He could only hope that you’d still look forward to his visits, though few and far in between.

Authentic bottles of expensive wines were shoved into his knapsack by Taehyung, lacing chains of aureate crammed into his hands by Hoseok, bars of cold silver wedged into the pits of his arms by Jimin, and more treasures thrown at the youngest pirate to hold as they lithely ran across the village. Being one of the stronger and more agile ones of the group had its downfalls, after all. He was being treated like a pack mule, hauling all the treasure for them. Not that he was going to complain; Jungkook knew that he deserved the rough-housing.

“Hold onto these for me, will you?” Yoongi gruffly uttered as he slid the thick hilts of gem-encrusted daggers into his belt. Jungkook complied hesitantly, but not without a suppressed groan of annoyance. “They’ll sell for more than a pretty penny, so don’t lose them.” The older pirate seemed to be in a grumpier than usual mood, considering he lost his eyepatch and the mottled scar crossing over his eye was on display for anybody to gawk at. It would’ve been worrying to Jungkook if he wasn’t aware of the fact that Jimin was merely prolonging his juvenile game of ‘keep away’, attempting to dance away from Yoongi’s inevitable wrath.

Perhaps being a pirate wasn’t his true calling, because Jungkook found that his mind kept wandering off to the matters at hand—running away from the guards. Though it was a relatively easy task (the guards were quite thick-headed in this village), he thought about the pretty plants dangling from the balconies of a building they jogged by, or the scents of exotic spices carried by the souq market not far from where they were. Most of all, much to his expectancy, his thoughts were centered around you. Had you gotten many customers for lunch rush? Were you lonely without him? How many times have you smiled today? Jungkook was all too fond of your smile.

Blinded by his unsaid affectionate ramblings, he only barely caught on to Namjoon’s quiet, “We shook the guards off for now. Be careful next time, Seokjin. The sun’s about to set soon; we should head back to the ship before it gets dark.”

Jungkook hissed out a small sigh of relief, bending over to catch his breath. Jogging across the village would have been no problem, but running with treasures twice his weight draped all over him was a different story.

When he righted himself back to standing, the sudden pit of shocked trepidation unfurled within his abdomen. There you were, beautiful as ever, but a terrifying sight to see. Normally you’d be the only person he would want to see, but as of this moment, you were the absolute last person he fancied bumping into.

Why now? He had the most rotten of luck.

Today you weren’t wearing your regular apron, but a pair of fitted grey trousers and a soft beige blouse far too large for you, hanging off of one of your shoulders as you cradled a basket of breads and cheeses and other groceries in your arms. It was a simple outfit, but one that made his heart clench nonetheless. The glinting of iridescent pearls draped over your décolletage had his breath stolen away from him as raw sentiment overtook his form. You were wearing the pearls he left for you and you never looked more beautiful. Jungkook, on the other hand, was clad in clothes that practically screamed pirate; a golden-clasped corset tightened about the small of his waist, a tattered white button-up tucked into his dark trousers, worn sea boots covering his feet. A large gun was also slung over the belt cinched around his hips, along with multiple daggers of the like, and not to mention all the riches and jewelry the other boys had thrown at him.

You couldn’t see him. No, it would absolutely ruin Jungkook.

Perhaps dropping everything he was holding in a panicked effort to dash away as quickly as he could was the worst possible thing he could have done to not warrant any attention.

The concerned and confused questions erupting from the other pirates as they whipped their heads towards their youngest comrade went completely ignored. He scampered away from them, lunging towards a shadowed alley and hiding behind a teetering pile of musty boxes. A stray cat nuzzled against his leg, but Jungkook merely shooed it away with a frustrated glare and not-so-subtle shushing gestures.

What a fool I am, the young buccaneer berated himself, pressing a knuckle against his temple in frustration. He waited for another minute, before slinking out from the shadows, peering around the corner to see if you were still there.

No sign of you. Relief seized his chest, but not without the gentlest flower of disappointment staining whatever solace he felt, a weed amongst the roses. Jungkook’s mind was still reeling from the fact that you were wearing his pearls.

Treading carefully, he strode out of the alley, turning the other direction before halting in his tracks completely. A queer, garbled noise tumbled past his lips.

It was you, a confused smile gracing your features, and all Jungkook could think about was how the sunlight was made for you, how you glowed in front of him, how he wanted to cradle you into his chest and murmur confessions of his pure, unadulterated love into your ear. But Jungkook didn’t do any of that. Instead, he merely stood there, as if he was imitating a statue in all of his pirate glory. Terrified, regretful, and ever so angry at himself.

Fate was a cruel game.

The pearls shone prettily on your skin. A reminder of the best mistake he’s ever made.

Your eyes had yet to wander down to fully take in his appearance, for your expression still held fondness for the man that’s visited your bakery so often, still having no idea that he was a filthy pirate, locked into his molten gaze. “I think you dropped something…?” The golden chains dangled loose between your fingers as you held them out to him. Jungkook didn’t take them, frozen on the spot.

It was as if he could pinpoint the exact moment you found out his true origins. Your brows furrowed upon seeing the weaponry strapped onto him, one of his pirate tattoos on display (Jungkook cursed himself for not thinking of rolling his sleeve back down), and the six other men watching in silent despondency behind them. You had always been a sharp one, far too smart for your own good.

Or, perhaps, it's always been obvious. Jungkook was only wishing for the impossible.

“You’re a pirate.”

The statement wedged a stake into his chest, splintering his heart into pieces. When you stepped away from him, confused horror marring your beautiful features, Jungkook knew that it was over.

He lost you.

A flurry of emotions, overwhelming and tumultuous, evidently took over you at his lack of denial. You looked to be just as heartbroken as he was.

“You’re a pirate,” you repeated, dazed. You wanted him to say something, anything. Much to his surprise, you didn’t sound angry. You took several steps back this time. The weight of pearls around your neck suddenly felt choking.

The sudden calling of his name had his head whipping around to look at his captain, watching the brutal exchange with gentle sternness. “We have to go.” The guards’ll be coming soon, no doubt.

Jungkook looked back to you, any and all words lodged in his throat. Despite the fear in your irises, a soft expression of acceptance folded over your visage, for under all his pirate exterior, he was still the same man that you thought so fondly of from your bakery. The look was short-lived however, quick to fade away when Jungkook reached out for you hesitantly. A part of him pondered how a simple baker managed to steal from the stealer. You had robbed him of his heart, and Jungkook didn’t even try to stop you.

Upon seeing you inch away in mortification at your new revelation, Jungkook retracted his arm and pursed his lips. The agony clawing at his stomach was begging to be set free. He wanted nothing more than to get onto his knees and plead for your forgiveness.

I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I’m not the man you thought I was. I’m sorry I fell in love with you.

His name came out again, this time from Yoongi. That meant it was serious.

“I’ll come back,” Jungkook said, tears rimming the bottom of his warm doe eyes. You watched him start to trek backwards. “I promise.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, like he was swallowing down a knot of thorned ivy.

Before you had the chance to say anything back, he was gone, bounding back to his ship with his comrades. Not long after, the distant barks of guards pursuing them rang throughout the village. You took that as your cue to leave. Swallowing down the urge to cry, you forced your eyes away.

You hoped he wouldn’t uphold his promise, for the both of your sakes.

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volleychumps · 3 years

Text

« Progressive Rivalry

Omg I love your blog 🥺 could I get a scenario or one shot with iwaizumi or Sakusa (or honestly any character you’d like!) where u run into each other at every tournament and it started out as a bitter rivalry but then they got rly worried bc u got hurt and they’re like “why do I care!?” Does that make sense? Ahaha 😅

~ just why do you keep running into the guy you hate most, especially when he equally hates your guts as well?

format: One-Shot

genre: fluff

- includes: Iwaizumi Hajime

Warning(s): swearing, slight mention of blood, enemies to lovers trope

---------------------------------------

“Oh look, my best friend’s here.”

“Fuck off.”

A sarcastic grin tickles your lips as you place a hand over your chest, pouting mock-affectionately as the dark haired spiker wipes at his sweaty neck with a damp towel. You adjust the gym bag on your arm as the rest of your team begins to warm up, already used to this turn of events.

“Aw, Iwa! You always manage to warm my cold, dead heart. If you have a crush on me, just say so. Are you some kind of stalker?”

“Hah? A stalker? You wish.” Iwaizumi stands as the red-headed one and popular brunette behind him stifle their amused laughter into their fists. “Who would like looking at your ugly mug all day?”

The spiker’s failed attempt to intimidate you with his height had your smile widening in challenge, the insult not hurting a bit. In fact, you lean a little closer, fake sniffing as if he had genuinely hurt your feelings.

“Yep. I definitely want this temperamental six year old in the body of a seventeen year old to show an ounce of interest in me. How’d you know?”

“How can I not show interest in things that perturb me?”

“So you are interested.” You wink. “Don’t hurt your pretty little head over using words that are too complicated for your brain.” You lean around him to shoot a sweet smile to his teammates, ignoring the flash of irritation across Iwa’s face.

“Issei, Oikawa, Hiro!” You flash a thumbs up, your pretty smile almost blinding. “You guys were cool.”

“Y/N-chan~ you’re such an angel!”

“Angel my ass.”

“Oh. You’re still here.” Your voice falls dejected as Iwaizumi gains an irk mark on his forehead. Glancing back at your team, you smile and wave at the other three. “Gotta go warm up, cheer for me!”

“Good luck!” Matsukawa calls after you, merely grinning when Iwaizumi shoots him an irritated stare.

“Not gonna wish the love of your life a good game?” Hanamaki questions, already beginning to walk off while smirking into his water bottle as his dark-haired friend merely scoffs. The teasing from his trio of “friends” wasn’t anything new.

“I don’t think that thing is capable of loving.”

“Yeah yeah, you love her, we get it.”

Iwaizumi groaned inwardly, sitting down tiredly on the bleachers to rest up as your team littered your side of the net. His jaw clenched when you offered him a lazy wave, kneeling slightly in your position as a libero.

There were many things Iwaizumi had could say about your character or even the irritating smile on your lips at his blatant annoyance, but he couldn’t deny how well your team mixed. Oikawa whistled lowly as Hanamaki absently mentions to Matsukawa about how the other team hardly stood a chance.

Iwaizumi blinks, feeling a pit of annoyance in his gut as the boys in the stands whistled at every save you made, the pit deepening even further at the smile you cast in their direction.

“You’ll get frown marks Iwa-Chan!”

“Shut the hell-”

“Oh shit! Y/N!”

Iwaizumi’s head whips back in the direction of your match at the sound of Hanamaki’s exclamation just in time for the collision.

And then his breath caught in his breath so abruptly he almost choked.

You clutched your ankle, teeth biting so deep into your lip so hard Iwa swore he could see a bead of blood as you withheld an obvious wail of pain. Your teammate knelt by your side with a hand clamped over her mouth in shock, Iwa being able to make out from your teammates’ panic that someone had accidentally shoved you so hard to the side you swore you heard your ankle snap in an attempt to stabilize yourself.

“Y/N-chan!”

“Is she okay?”

But Iwa wasn’t listening, all distaste for you seeming to drown out of his system as he wondered,

wondered why the hell he cared so much about the girl who tried her hardest to get under his skin. Your witty retorts, your wide grin, the softness of your irises, and the pang in his chest every time you jokingly bumped your shoulder against his in passing-

that same girl who’s cheeks were now shining with spilled tears causing him to rise to his feet.

“Oi Iwaizumi, where are you going?”

He didn’t spare a glance to your teammates as they silently made way for the wide-shouldered spiker, dark eyes assessing the damage as he bent down, swooping you up into his arms as if you hadn’t weighed a thing. He ignored the stares and wolf whistles from his team as he hurried out of the gym and in the direction of the infirmary towards the specialists who were trained for these events, heart tugging at the sound of your whimpers.

“I’ve had dreams about this.” You mumble, eyes clenched shut as tears built up on your closed eyelids, arms wrapping around his neck tighter as you buried your face in his neck. “Please be hot, that’s all I’m asking for.”

“You’re still joking at a time like this?” Iwa’s voice cracks at the proximity, wondering why on earth his chest was pounding in his ears as your eyes shot open. Immediately, you begin to squirm, your face heating up as Iwaizumi continues his hurried stride, barely sparing you a glance.

“You’re taking me?”

“No.”

“Don’t be sarcastic with me!”

Iwaizumi leans his head in the opposite direction, away from the volume of your voice, but he couldn’t stop the slight tilt of amusement on the right side of his lips as you seemed distracted by the obvious pain in your ankle. Mission successful.

He ignores your protests to set you down, frowning at your claims to wanting anyone else to have taken you. Even the brunette one.

“See, now that’s just plain insulting.” Iwa’s eyes narrow at you as he finally sets you down on one of the cots, about to walk off to find the doctor before a hand weakly tugs at the bottom of his jersey.

“....I think they’ll come soon. Can you...just stay? Just until they come?”

Iwaizumi blinked. Then blinked again.

Iwaizumi clears his throat, recovering from his shock before pulling up a stool and grabbing a nearby first aid kit. He tilted your chin up with his fingers, his gentle touch causing your cheeks to flare up as your eyes took on a vulnerable edge.

“Why do you hate me so much?” It was genuine curiosity, anything to alleviate the strange heaviness in his chest when he acknowledged that fact that you despised him so.

Your eyes widen at the sudden attack, wincing a little as the cotton pad dabs at your lips, soaked in alcohol. “Why do you?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Oh-”

“I just think you’re annoying as hell.”

“Well I think that not a single thought goes on behind those pretty eyes.”

“So you think my eyes are pretty?”

The silence is heavy as you shake your head no quickly, causing Iwa to click his tongue and scold you to stay still as he keeps his eyes trained on your-

oh god he’s looking at your lips.

“Yes.” You’re almost whispering, shyly avoiding his widened gaze as you lean away from him.

He stumbles over his words at your direct response, unprepared for the way in which you lean a little further back, eyes nervous and not at all the sarcastic gleam he knows as he swallows back the lump in his throat.

“Well,” and then his hand is cupping the side of your face as he tugs you closer, confusion swirling in his head as his heart surges him forward, practically mumbling against your lips in a daze before he could stop himself.

“I think you’re prettier.”

He wanted to smirk at how he could practically see smoke puff out of your head.

“Even if you hate me?”

“I’m honestly not sure I ever did.”

The distance is closed by you, a hand coming up to run your fingers through his dark locks as his thumb strokes your cheek, lips moving feverishly together as you attempt to pull back-

If he let you go, would you go back to hating one another?

only for him to kiss you back even harder as if he was satiating some sort of hunger, a smile growing on your lips before a shot of pain shoots through your leg, bringing you back to reality as you whine against his lips. Iwaizumi gasps, ignoring your giggles and assuring words that you’re fine, carefully laying you down on your back while elevating your ankle.

“Y/N.”

“First name basis? Look at us skipping all the necessary steps.” you tug your hair out of it’s knot, attempting to redo it with a hair tie between your lips as the pain in your ankle falls to a dull throb.

“What did....are we...?”

“Does the Iwaizumi Hajime want to know if we’re a thing or not?” Your smile has his cheeks flushing, stare becoming irritated.

“Oi. Nevermi-”

“Yes, idiot. Now run along and fetch my things, will you?”

He rolls his eyes at your playful wink, ensuring your injured ankle was positioned properly before beginning to exit the infirmary-

“And Iwa?”

“What is it, doll?”

Your chest leaps at the nickname, Iwaizumi beginning to smirk at the change in expression on your face before you clear your throat.

“Thank you.”

It was one of the most sincere things you had ever said to him.

Your unexpected boyfriend kissed you on the lips a second time after a few strides, any confusion within him seeming nonexistent as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. The way you gazed up at him had his chest doing somersaults, wondering if you were both just denying the attraction you felt towards one another before fate took its turn.

“Nah, I should be thanking you.”

“For what?”

“Hurting your ankle-”

“Get out.”

Iwa’s feeling like an idiot with the lilt to his lips when the door slides shut and something hits the door where his head would have been, the slight smile fading back to his usual scowl at the sight before him.

His three friends had identical grins on their faces, Matsukawa holding a #1 fan balloon and Hanamaki decked out in merch from your school. He narrows his eyes at the bouquet of flowers tucked behind Oikawa’s back. All obviously from the themed store of the tournament.

Guess he didn’t need to worry about whether or not you would enjoy his idiotic friends’ company.

“So you're whipped. Didn’t see that one coming.”

“Whatever.”

“Iwa, where are you going?”

“...to go get her things.”

“You so love her.”

“Shut the hell up and don’t enter her room until I get back.”

It was only when the dark-haired spiker turned the corner, looking behind and in front of him before his back hits a nearby wall as he attempts to calm his heartbeat, swearing he had never felt such a wild surge of energy through his veins as his lips tingled with the taste of you. He sighs, touching the hair tie that he stole from you when he kissed you a second time from within his pocket, wondering just when his hatred melted into the exact opposite.

He was so whipped.

-------------------------

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Hi all! How are you lovelies doing? I’m going to be on here more often, thank you for 9k and your patience with me has helped me so much! This was one of my requests that I wanted to use to slide back into the swing of things, so I hope you enjoyed! <3

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

Text

eternity. [zhongli/reader]

prompt: arranged marriage royalty au with zhongli, in which you are the child of the dendro archon, sent to marry the emperor of liyue. pairing: emperor!zhongli/f!royalty!reader word count: 3.8k warnings: fluff, kissing scene (don’t tell my mom) a/n: SUPER close to being gn!reader! i just couldn’t think of a gender-neutral term for empress, which is used twice in this story. otherwise, it’s completely gender-neutral if that sort of thing doesn’t bother you! there will be one of these for both diluc and childe too sometime close in the future! additional note: i tried my best to respect the culture liyue is based off (chinese) by incorporating some small aspects of chinese culture (clothes + titles)! if any of these are done incorrectly, please please PLEASE let me know so i can fix it!

to say you were nervous to meet your future husband was an understatement. you were a child of the dendro archon, an heir of the monarchist nation of sumeru. third-in-line for the throne, you held no chance of inheriting the throne. so, upon your 200th birthday and years of studying to be a scholar, your parents decided that marrying you off to another kingdom was the best choice for your destiny.

you just hadn’t expected it to be the reclusive archon emperor of liyue.

upon your first meeting with him, you were shaken to the core. he was sharp on the edges, yet easy on the eyes. his gaze was intense, amber eyes holding a subdued ferocity within their depths. his figure briefly alluded to the hidden power that lies within him, an unusual form for a god of war. he towered over you in height, reminiscent of the mountain scenery you had witnessed upon your journey to liyue’s capital. despite your worries, you did your best to remain cordial and gave a standing bow in his direction upon first meeting him.

any intimidating impression you had of him shattered at that instant as a deep, yet kind laugh escaped his lips at your actions.

“please, there is no need to bow,” the geo archon explained. “we are to be equals, are we not?”

one thing you hadn’t expected was for the geo archon, zhongli, as he insisted you call him, to have your same affinity for reading. being raised in a nation of scholars meant that their royal heirs were expected to always have their noses in a book and, fortunately for you, you had been more than happy to do so. the geo archon’s palace, situated on the edge of liyue harbor, had a library that rivaled that of your motherland’s.

upon hearing from his service staff that you had taken a liking to the royal library, zhongli had made it a point to come and read with you. the first time he had done so, you were so enthralled by the pulp fiction romance novel you had picked up that you had failed to acknowledge his presence. rather than interrupting you, the geo archon had silently sat down on the plush armchair, distanced from yours by a coffee table, and opened up a book as well. you hadn’t noted the turning of his pages and, if not for a servant to interrupt your train of thought to set tea down on the table before you, you weren’t sure if you ever would have noticed.

“oh, pardon me, i did not request any t-” you stated while the sentence you were reading. however, the words died on your lips as you glanced up, realizing the emperor and the servant were now both sitting before you. “oh.”

the single word escaped your mouth before you could stop it, but, fortunately, zhongli interpreted it as what you meant it as: a statement of surprise, not one of disappointment. a soft amusement twinkled in his eyes at your widened eyes, you being clearly shaken by not having noticed him sitting before you. he turns and smiles at the nervous-looking staff member and allows the man to depart the scene, who quickly scurries off.

“i hope i am not intruding,” zhongli states, turning the book in his hands over and resting it on his lap, pages downward. he leans forward, gently grasps his teacup (black tea, you noted, looking at its contents) and stirs it with an ornate, white iron spoon, cor lapis embedded in its handle. “the tea was merely a precautionary gesture. if you do not wish to drink any, please do not feel obligated to.”

you feel a faint heat rise to your cheeks, embarrassed at the thought of seeming like you were ungrateful for his kind gesture. he likely just wanted the tea for himself and did not wish to be rude, you told yourself.

“i- it’s not that,” your voice stammers in a soft tone, worried about your noise level within the quiet aisles of the library. “i just did not wish to have the hardworking service staff unnecessarily cater to me for something i did not place an order for. however, i appreciate the gracious gesture and am no longer perturbed by the action, knowing that it was something you called for. i appreciate the hospitality.”

the brunette quirked an eyebrow upwards and hovered his lips above his golden-and-white teacup before blowing softly on the liquid. you noted the geo elemental insignia molded into the bottom of the mug, seeming to glow the same color as his eyes.

“is that so?” zhongli’s words had an aura of amusement interwoven into them, entertained by your dissertation-length explanation. you nodded, feeling your face burn with bashfulness, and quickly redirected your gaze to the book at hand.

“pardon my interruption, but what is the book you are reading? you seem to be quite enthralled by it.”

the book held an illustration of a shirtless man holding a fair maiden close to him in front of the ocean, about as cheesy as you could get for any book cover. you weren’t sure how you were going to survive this conversation.

“it’s called… um…” you trail off, speaking in an even quieter tone than before. “love on the sea of clouds.”

if zhongli’s eyes held a faint amusement within them before, the amber pools are now glistening with delight. a chuckle escapes his lips. “oh? that’s one of my favorites.”

---

zhongli managed to contradict nearly any expectation you held of his behavior before you had met him. like most royals, you had expected him to act in an uncouth, entitled manner, who placed self-indulgence before the care of others. now, as you sat next to him in a meeting with the qixing, you realized he placed the care of his nation first and foremost. your mind trailed off as you watched his amber eyes shift with every word he spoke, his eyebrows making the most subtle of movements as his lips parted and closed. of course you were paying attention to what he was saying! you definitely weren’t using this as a chance to burn his visage into your mind!

“what do you think, (y/n)?” zhongli asks, turning to look at you. despite the two of you having a rather different fundamental knowledge of the world, his having been cultivated from his experiences leading liyue, and yours having been crafted from the presence of sumerian scholars, zhongli deeply valued your input on issues affecting liyue. he cherished the unique perspective you could provide on the nation’s affairs. normally, you were more than happy to oblige and help. one day, you would be his right-hand, his equal, he had once told you, but for now, you were not yet married and still acclimating to becoming a liyuean royal.

but at this moment? you feel ice cold mortification trickling into your veins. your failure to pay attention was now catching up to you as zhongli and the rest of the qixing looked at you, anticipating your response.

“well,” you calmly stated, trying to gather your thoughts. “i believe that to be a good idea, but…” you glanced away, pretending to be lost in thought. “you also need to consider the changing societal expectations of liyueans before doing such a thing.”

the answer was pulled completely out of your ass, but the spritely yuheng, keqing, could not have been more thrilled at your words. she immediately launched into a lengthy diatribe of agreeance, using your words to help back up her point. oh, harbor management. that’s what they were talking about.

as you forced yourself to pay attention to keqing, rather than ogling your husband-to-be again, you noticed a slight smirk cross his face out of the corner of your eye. to any of the other qixing in the room, it would seem like zhongli was happy with your answer, but you knew better. he knew you had spaced off staring at him and had put you on the spot to fluster you. his eyes were glowing with the amusement you had come to be familiar with.

---

your wedding date is approaching when zhongli arrives at your chambers one morning, guards and servants cast aside. he’s dressed in an ornate golden-brown suit, adorned with silver accents and matching gloves. the outfit, while complex, is a change of pace from his usual robes and traditional liyuean attire, reminding you instead of a well-dressed businessman.

“hello,” he speaks, looking slightly nervous, as if he doesn’t know the words to say. “would you like to accompany me somewhere?”

zhongli waits patiently for you to get ready in the sitting area of your chambers. you elect for an outfit that reminds you of his -- something respectful, yet less extravagant than typical royal garments. you arrive back to zhongli, your presence snapping him out of his reverie. his worry-ladened expression softens at your arrival and he musters a soft smile before standing up and extending a hand to you.

“shall we?”

---

zhongli takes you to a secluded memorial within the palace gardens, one you wouldn’t have noticed unless it was pointed out to you. the entrance is obscured by a variety of hanging plants, meaning that only those who know of its presence are likely to find it. zhongli’s grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly as he pauses at the entrance, before stepping forward, guiding you behind him.

the memorial, protected from the sun with plant-interwoven latticework, provides a sanctuary of shade from the warm atmosphere of the otherwise outdoor gardens. through the holes created by gaps in the foliage of ivy and sturdy lattice wood, sunlight filters in, allowing the marble statue of the woman within to glow in the sunlight. she’s dressed in antique robes, the kind you recognize from museums and your studies of old cultures. a warm smile sits on her face and her irises, made of cor lapis, shine with a kindness and wisdom reminiscent of zhongli’s. her arms are outstretched and cupped, as if she’s offering something to whoever views her statue.

zhongli takes the initiative to place the blossom of one of the glaze lilies growing near her feet within her palms and he lets out a soft sigh.

“this is guizhong, my first wife,” he explains, sitting down on the stone bench by the entrance. crystalflies flutter around your heads, their typically skittish nature calmed by the presence of the statue. “forgive me if this is too strong, but i brought you here for a chance to meet her.”

“she’s beautiful,” you state, glancing from the statue to look at zhongli. he looks worried, as if he’s afraid you’ll lash out at him for such a gesture. “thank you.”

“‘thank you’?” zhongli echoes, confused. you smile at him.

“if she is important to you, she is important to me,” you give the hand that still holds yours a reassuring squeeze, and zhongli gives you a smile, a genuine smile, his expression painted with relief and gratitude towards your statement. “would you like to tell me about her?”

zhongli parts his lips, lets out a soft chuckle, clearly having worked himself up over how this conversation would go. “guizhong lived many millenia ago and was known as the goddess of dust…” he begins, and unlike certain conversations prior, you listen attentively to his words, the outside world is forgotten to the two of you as zhongli tells you all about the first empress of liyue.

---

zhongli takes you to his favorite restaurant in liyue harbor that evening. the typically bustling patio is devoid of any other people, aside from fellow workers. zhongli had first explained, when you sat down, that normally he doesn’t mind eating amongst his constituents and typically prefers to do so, but wished to focus solely on you this evening. you had stammered profusely upon him saying this and he simply gave you an innocent smile, but zhongli’s eyes revealed that he knew of the effect he had on you.

tonight was a special night in liyue. the castle grounds had opened for one of the biggest festivals, the yearly lantern festival, and zhongli had chosen to spend it with you in seclusion. he loved his people, but always had been a reclusive god, typically only appearing to most citizens at the rite of descension. however, he did have his moments, such as now, where he traversed amongst the common folk, while still maintaining an aura of distance. he always felt a disconnect from his people, saying they preferred to view him as a holy figure rather than a true emperor. you never failed to notice the glint of longing in his eyes when he spoke of the idea of being able to truly fit in with humanity.

but those thoughts had been cast away for a quiet evening as the two of you placed your orders, with zhongli ordering half the menu. you have yet to try most liyuean cuisine, what’s a better time than now? he had said upon your confusion. zhongli’s rationale was an impregnable defense.

zhongli smiles at you, his brilliant white teeth glinting in the soft light of the restaurant’s festive lanterns. as the two of you wait for your food, he takes your hand, resting on the table, and interlaces your fingers. your eyes widen briefly, but you give his hand a light, reassuring squeeze in return.

“you look beautiful tonight,” he says, gesturing to the traditional festival garments you had adorned yourself in. you had asked the liyuean royal stylist if she had any liyuean hanfu for you to wear and she had clapped her hands excitedly and told you she had been waiting for you to ask.

“are you saying i don’t look beautiful every day?” you tease, causing zhongli’s eyes to widen and eyebrows to raise. he immediately began to dispute your claim, but your sweetened laughter caused his argument to fall short as he smiled at your amusement, even if it had been at his expense.

“oh!” zhongli exclaimed after your laughter had died down. “i have something for you.” the idea of receiving another gift, after zhongli had taken the time to reserve the restaurant and spend the day with you, caused yet another wave of heat to rise to your face, something that seemed to be a frequent occurrence as you spent time with him. zhongli’s non-occupied gently slides a ring box across the table, and, for a split second, a brief flash of lightheadedness crosses over you, but you remain heavy. oh my archons.

your hand detangles itself from his and cradles the box as if its made of the most fragile materials, before carefully opening it. a gasp escapes your lips upon seeing the ring inside. crafted of a brilliant cut of noctilucuous jade, the ring is a long, winding ring that wraps around the finger several times and is in the shape of a dragon, two small, cor lapis eyes embedded on its head.

“this is your exuvia, no?” you ask, looking up at zhongli. “it’s magnificent. thank you” upon your words, zhongli looks away, bashful as he nods and softly smiles in response.

“i am aware that upon signing the wedding contract, rings are a customary exchange in sumeru, even if they are not a liyuean tradition,” zhongli confesses and you feel your heart melt a bit at his consideration for your homeland’s culture. “additionally…” he trails off, his cheeks flushing as he sees you situate the gift on your ring finger and gaze at it admirably.

“hmm?” you ask, glancing up upon realizing he trailed off. a nervous look passes over his eyes and you smile encouragingly.

“it’s also a… public display of our contract, to show that my heart is solely within your possession,” zhongli admits, his words soft. his hand fumbles for yours, returning to the interlocked nature they held earlier in your conversation. rather than looking away, however, zhongli gazes upon you with an intensity in his eyes that you’ve had yet to see. his eyes lock on yours and you are reminded, for the first time, that this man is a god of war. a ferocious honesty dances within the honeyed depths, imploring you to recognize the veracity of his words.

“your heart?” you echo, for rex lapis is a god of war, but you are no longer afraid of bloodshed.

“ah,” he breathes, “perhaps i have not elaborated enough. i am in love with you, my empress. the luminosity of your eyes outshine even the most radiant of geoculi, your intellect and ceaseless conviction in improving your wisdom lays even the most studious of scholars to shame, your heart fueled with the golden blood of the greatest of immortals, the kind whom dedicate their lives to those who do not have the luxury of forever, unlike the-” zhongli’s words are harshly interrupted as you stand up, fueled by an adrenaline rush. you rip your hand out of his and the emperor fears that he may have overstepped boundaries, having been too intense with his words and affections for you.

you assuage his panic as you swiftly move around the table that separates the two of you and cup his face in your hands, bending over to meld your lips upon his. the archon responds nearly immediately, his hand wrapping around your waist, ushering you to rest upon his lap, rather than be forced to lean over. your lips part and the archon deepens the kiss, his free hand reaching up to cradle your head, gently brushing against your hair, treating you as if you’re made of fine china.

when the two of you finally part, zhongli looks at you with an expression of fondness and adoration. you make a move to stand up, but zhongli’s arm tightens around your waist.

“stay,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “please.” his grip loosens, allowing you to make your escape if you wish, but instead you sit sideways on his lap, leaning in to rest your shoulder upon his chest, your head nestling into where his shoulder meets his neck. your hand once again interlaces with his free one and you feel his thumb swirl the ring around on your finger. as you look down at your hands, zhongli nudges you ever so slightly.

“look,” zhongly whispers, his lips upon your ear. you have to prevent yourself from shivering in response to the low vibrations. “the first lantern, lit for the empress.” “is that a tradition?” you ask, surprised as you watch the first lantern fly high into the night sky above you. zhongli chuckles.

“i can see to it that such an action becomes a festival tradition, if you’d like,” zhongli offers sincerely and you give an airy giggle in response.

the night continues on and as you’re about to fall asleep to the sound of zhongli explaining the history of the liyuean lantern festival and the vibrations produced from his chest, the two of you are forced to part as the servers bring out your food. you sheepishly move back to your own seat, embarrassed to be caught in such a compromising, intimate position. however, zhongli looks the opposite, sending an unabashedly smug grin in your direction. as the geo archon tells you about each dish and their origins, your heart melts at the idea of realizing that you’ll spend forever with this man, waking up at each other’s side every day. upon this revelation, a question pops into your mind.

“zhongli,” you begin, making sure to tone your words with one of innocent inquisition, not accusation. “of every being in teyvat, you chose me. you’re the geo archon and emperor of the most economically prosperous nation, you could’ve had anyone. what made you agree to marry me?”

you await zhongli’s answer while munching on another jade parcel, your favorite dish of the night.

“oh,” zhongli responds, a bit startled that you asked such a question. “i was enthralled by your work published within the sumeru arcademia. your work on the historical and economic analysis on the inazuman tea industry was quite fascinating.”

you pause for a brief moment, before an uncharacteristic, raucous laughter escapes your lips. upon this, zhongli looks at you sheepishly and a bit confused.

“is such a thing peculiar to do?” he inquires, causing a break in your laughter to reassure him.

“yes, absolutely,” you confirm to your lover. “but i absolutely adore such a notion! tell me, what was about my financial prose that made you desire to bed me?”

upon your words, zhongli flushes a deep shade of scarlet, darker than what you’ve seen before. you decide it’s your new favorite color.

---

the date of your wedding arrives and your emotions are a far cry from the ones you experienced when you first stepped foot in the liyuean royal palace. the emperor, known to some as the fearsome god of war, to others as the strict morax, god of contracts, is now known to you by the sweet name of zhongli, a name reserved for you and you alone. rather than relishing in the bloodlust of the battlefield as he once did when he was much younger, rex lapis now desires your companionship and velvet touch.

when he was a much younger archon, he had not told the woman he loved his true emotions until it was too late. while they had ruled together, they had remained nothing more than friends due to his hestiance. but now, zhongli knew what he desired and was determined to let you know his affections before it was too late.

as you step foot into the palace chapel, all eyes are on you, but the only ones you care about are those of your lover, zhongli. you float down the aisle, captivating all onlookers in an outfit that fuses both the sumerian fashion of your past and the liyuean styles of your future. at the end of the aisle awaits your emperor, your lover, your husband, and the two of you will combine your two eternities into one. together, you will sign an eternal contract with the god of contracts, your first one with such a deity, yet your most important one.

with this thought in mind, you smile at your lover as you meet him at the altar, taking his hands in yours. with locked eyes, the two of you grin, ready to sign the contract of forever.

#i got carried away this was supposed to be just a scenario but emperor!zhongli has my heart #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli #genshin impact #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact fluff #*zhongli #*writing #*fic #*50 follower celebration

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