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shalomniscient · 9 months ago

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i just woke up, it’s 7am and i’m having thoughts about jingliu…

if there was one person on the luofu who knew jingliu the longest, it was you. not the high cloud quintet or the cloud knights, you. the daughter of jingliu’s master, and the stubborn sword champion’s personal healer. she entered your life as a gangly, hungry girl who could barely hold a sword in both hands—and now, she’s the greatest warrior the luofu has ever seen.

but more importantly, now, she’s your wife.

it seemed almost like an inevitability, that you’d fall for her. for all that she was your mother’s disciple, you didn’t see her much as children. jingliu would always be training, and you would always be studying. it was only after she became a member of the cloud knights, and you a member of the alchemy commission, that things would really start to blossom—like a lotus flower, bright and pure.

you were the only healer jingliu really trusted and even allowed to heal her. the warrior had a stubborn streak several miles wide, but perhaps it was the echo of your mother in you that had her obediently heeling to your treatments—a fact that always awed her fellow cloud knights, who teased her relentlessly about it. “whipped,” they’d say. jingliu would only grumble and grudgingly thank you, before leaving the clinic and decidedly and publicly putting every one of her squadmates on their asses during a sparring match.

but nonetheless, it is no one but jingliu who comforts you when teng xiao arrives at your door, a set of armor folded neatly in his arms, and a grim, apologetic look on his face. that night it is jingliu who sits by your side, letting you weep into her shoulder as she awkwardly and clumsily attempts to console you. grief burns through you like a wildfire, but jingliu is there, her presence soothing and cool like moonlight. you both fall asleep tangled in each other’s arms, finding that, if nothing else, there is comfort in shared loss.

the next morning, you ask her about it as you both still hold each other close. jingliu’s mouth opens and closes, struggling to choose the right words. “i swore to her that i’d protect you,” she answers. it makes you smile, just a little, even if grief still twists sharply in your heart.

“you’re protecting me by cuddling me?” you tease her, and her pale cheeks flush.

“that’s— i believed you might have needed—“ she stammers, and you cut her off by pressing closer against her cool body.

“i’m just teasing,” you whisper against her skin, arms tightening around her muscular form. as if to ground yourself, as if to assure yourself that she’s really here. “i appreciate it, jingliu. thank you.”

at your words, the warrior relaxes. her voice is barely higher than yours when she replies, tinged with a hint of tenderness. “of course.”

jingliu is different, after that. you guess that it’s because you are all she has left—much the same in how she is all you have left. there is a gentle awkwardness to her now, like someone who has never known how to be soft trying to learn for the first time. she sits patiently as she lets you fuss over her wounds, knowing that you need this, that you need to know she’s alright. she only looks away when you get a little too close, when she can feel the warmth of your breath on her skin, and she hopes you don’t notice (you do).

she comes to the house whenever she can, which feels just a little emptier without your mother’s commanding presence. she stands shoulder to shoulder next to you at the counter making dumplings, her rough, battle-scarred hands dwarfing your own more delicate ones—but she wraps the dumplings with finesse all the same. you eat them together, quietly, but the silence is comfortable. you know each other enough that words are unnecessary. these nights you can only ever fall asleep in her arms—and she can only ever fall asleep in yours. neither of you question it, but what is there to question anyway?

jingliu ends up being many of your firsts—including your first kiss. it happens on one of those nights, tangled in each other’s arms, with nothing but a sliver of moonlight to illuminate jingliu’s pale face. you feel her pulse jump under your touch, as your thumb traces the ridge of her cheekbones and your lips press gently against hers. kissing her is nothing grand, no fireworks or butterflies—just the quiet sense of finally coming home.

jingliu is your first time, too. her hands trail down your body with reverence, lips pressing kisses like prayers against your skin. she brings you to the edge of heaven with her fingers and her mouth until you lie boneless on the sheets. she kisses you while your essence is still smeared across her lips, and you eagerly return the favor.

jingliu is your first and only love. it’s the soft, quiet kind, more of a respite than a whirlwind in and of itself. a shelter where both of you can return to, when the world becomes too much. you’re there for each other at the lowest lows and the highest highs—jingliu attends the ceremony as you’re sworn in as the cauldron master of the alchemy commission, eyes trained only on you as you accept the honor. and you attend jingliu’s ascenscion ceremony for the title of sword champion, standing at the forefront of the crowd, a proud smile on your face. to jingliu, that is her true victory.

and yet, even as the sword champion, there are still things she fears—like telling you she loves you. it takes a grand amount of coaxing from her new friends—a blacksmith, a high elder, and a pilot, respectively—before she works up the courage. she whispers it against your neck one moonlit night, intertwined with you in the sheets. her voice trembles ever so slightly, her breath fanning unevenly against your skin, and she tenses when you laugh softly. but the tension bleeds out of her immediately when you say it back, and she slumps against you, as if the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders.

(baiheng and yingxing later force her to buy them drinks, and she does so, grudgingly. after all, they were right when they said there was no way you’d say anything other than ‘i love you too’. dan feng only attends for the free alcohol, but he is happy for her nonetheless.)

your marriage is a quiet affair—or as quiet as it can get, with baiheng and yingxing together on the guestlist. but it is perfect, to you and jingliu. the rings were crafted by yingxing, inlaid with stones baiheng discovered along the trailblaze. neither of you actually wear them on your fingers due to your jobs, but none other than dan feng gifts the both of you corded red rope to loop the rings through and wear as a necklace. it becomes your greatest treasure, even centuries down the line.

the next few months of your life are calm and routine—until jingliu returns home one day with a teenager, of all things. the boy has long, shaggy, white hair, and curious golden eyes. He reminds you of a cat.

“this is jing yuan,” jingliu introduces to you. “my disciple.”

the boy greets you politely, before jingliu sends him off to an empty room in your home for him to claim as his own. once the boy is out of sight, you turn to jingliu, quirking a brow.

“disciple?”

she nods. “yes. i believe he has potential.”

you only hum at her answer, stepping forward to fix her collar. she lets you fuss, as you always have, and then presses her lips against yours gently, her hands on your waist. “trust me,” she whispers, and you do.

jing yuan fits into your life more easily than you expected. a sharp-witted young man, quick with a blade but even quicker with his words. it isn’t long before you grow fond of him as well—in an almost parental sort of way. before you realise, you start fussing over him the way you fuss over jingliu. it seems you’re not the only one susceptible to jing yuan’s charm, since the newly formed high cloud quintet adore him just as much—baiheng, especially, is delighted to have another little brother figure besides yingxing. jingliu is no exception; the pride in her gaze as she watches jing yuan train is visible to anyone.

nowadays, your home feels fuller. it is no longer just you and hingliu making dumplings—another pair of hands, sometimes even another three appear to help. the dinner table is full more often than not, and there always seems to be more plates in the sink. sometimes you find purple fur on the floor, or the occasional jade-like scale in between your couch cushions. but joy, you learn, is fleeting. nnd no one ever notices it is here until it is gone, ripped from your hands before you can even blink.

jingliu is your first and only love. she is also your first and only heartbreak.

everything you’ve built with jingliu over the course of centuries crumbles in a matter of days. the battle against shuhu is vicious. you can barely even keep up against the constant stream of injured that flood the alchemy commission. you and your colleagues down energising pill after energising pill to stay on your feet and support the xianzhou forces. tet the news from the frontline would nonetheless bring you to your knees.

baiheng, dead. yingxing, cursed. dan feng, imprisoned. and worst of all—

jingliu, mara-struck.

the ten lords commission keep her under strict watch in a holding cell. you barely have the time to visit, what with the number of patients that demand your attention. jing yuan is the one who visits her, by his authority as the new arbiter general. he speaks to you when he can, updates you on her condition—but you’ve treated enough cases to know when something is bad, even if jing yuan tries to assuage you with purposefully vague wording.

she barely recognises you when you approach her. her beautiful ruby eyes are covered by a ragged, black cloth. thick, metal bindings encircle her wrists and restrain her arms behind her back. you call her name, quietly, gently, trying your hardest to stifle the tremble in your voice. sometimes, there is a flicker of recognition. most of the time, there is nothing.

you return to an empty house. it’s so, so cold, and your bed is far too big. you hold tightly to your ring, praying that jingliu be spared this fate. but the aeon does not listen.

because no more than a few months later, jingliu breaks free from her confinement, and rampages across the luofu. smoke chokes the air as ice and frigid wind sweeps across the epicenter that is jingliu. but instead of running away, you run towards her. the ice seems to part and melt before you as you run. you need to see her.

instead, all you witness is the majesty of the lightning lord, as he strikes down your beloved.

nothing remains of jingliu. they find no body, not even any remnants of armor or personal effects. after that, they strike her name from every record for her dishonor. all her achievements, her victories—erased. as if she never existed. you are forced to resign as cauldron master in shame, with your apprentice dan shu taking your place.

you feel… nothing. only a pervasive, parasitic emptiness spreading through your entire being. you spend your days in a bed in a guest room—you can’t bring yourself to set foot in the room you once shared with her. the kitchen lies deserted. you barely feel hunger or thirst, or any sort of sensation. and yet, you keep living. your cells respire and your lungs draw breath, and your heart still thumps in your chest—even as your soul rots and decays.

the only thing—or person, rather—that stirs you now somewhat is jing yuan. he has lost everyone too, this general who will always be that curious-eyed boy to you. you do your best to pick yourself up; if not for yourself, then for him.

(but jing yuan knows. he sees it in your eyes, the truth of the matter. the guilt that gnaws at you, that compels you to keep fussing over him.

you think that caring for him will help you atone for the way you failed jingliu. he wants to tell you that his master would’ve never thought such a thing. but he doesn’t, and lets you mother him all the same.

he needs this too.)

jing yuan appoints you as his personal healer, even as his advisors protest. they question your ability—after all, how could a good healer not even mend the one she loved most?

that moment is the first and last time you ever see jing yuan angry. it fades as quickly as it comes, however, and you are appointed as his personal healer nonetheless. you remain by his side for the next few centuries, watching as he grows more and more into the role of the general. the pain of your loss doesn’t heal—not fully, at least, but it scabs over.

still, you can’t help the ache in your chest when jing yuan approaches you one day, a young boy at his heels.

“this is my disciple, yanqing,” he introduces. the boy has flaxen hair, and expressive amber eyes. there’s a fire in them, a determination that you remember seeing in a pair of ruby ones. he greets you, politely and a little shyly.

it’s a painfully familiar scene, and the best you can manage is a wordless smile.

yanqing becomes another target of your fussing soon enough. he squirms when you check him over for injuries, insisting that he’s fine. the boy is incorrigibly stubborn. but in the end, he is still a boy. his enthusiasm, unmarred by grief and loss, brings a liveliness to your monotone life. you can’t help but sneak a few more extra strales into his pockets for swords when jing yuan isn’t looking.

(but he knows. jing yuan always knows.)

you are not happy, not truly, not without her, never without her, but for now you are content. the boys in your life give you reason enough to keep going.

yet your life turns upside down once more when the stellaron bursts on the luofu. jing yuan keeps you away from the whirlwind of conflict, assigning an elite squad of his knights to guard your house. it makes you curious, but the answer reveals itself to you only a few days after the crisis is resolved.

there, standing amidst the unconscious bodies of the cloud knights supposed to guard you, is none other than the ghost of your beloved.

she’s as beautiful as the day you lost her.

#sev.scribbles #jingliu x reader #the brainrot got away from me………… again #mother/son relationship between jy and reader #means grandma/grandson relationship between yq and reader LMAO #had to build up some hella backstory bcos personally #i feel like if jl had no partner and then met bh it would be over #baiheng’s trailblaze rizz would have swept jingliu right off her feet #so reader had to get there EARLY early yk #anyway ngl had a lot of fun with this one #describing how house changes to home then back to house #kinda fell off towards the end but thats about normal for my writing JDHDHSKSKSL #well anyway #i wrote this in 2 1/2 hours #it is now 9.30 am #this ones for y’all jingliu nation 🫡🫡🫡#hsr

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arsenicflame · 5 months ago

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steddyhands modern au inspired by this post:

(1828 words, themes of kink but nothing explicit, established blackhands & gentlebeard-centric. Happy Pride!)

Stede picks up leatherworking in the wake of his divorce. He's not exactly sure how it ended up being such an important hobby for him, only that he had always admired the intricate designs on his horse's best bridles, and with little else to do with his time, he decides to give it a go.

It's rocky going at first, but he's having fun working with his hands for the first time in his life, and there's a sense of satisfaction in seeing the design come to life as he works. With practice, his skills improve, and he learns how to make things that are truly one of a kind.

He starts off posting his pieces online, as a way to reach fellow enthusiasts, but quickly finds himself with a rather large audience. Stede’s style is unique, and, after many requests from his followers, Lucius encourages him to make some more basic pieces he can sell. It's not about making money for Stede, but another way to meet new people who share his interests- as Lucius keeps telling him, it's sad that his personal assistant is the main person he talks to these days.

So Stede sets out on a new adventure, and has quite the time designing a new range of patterns for the market. He makes purses, belts, bracelets, and, most importantly, dog collars- all still with his unique designs embossed into them, of course. He rents a booth at his towns monthly craft fair, and very quickly finds himself with a new group of friends in the other regulars- Pete, his usual neighbour, who sells an array of wooden figures he carves, Roach, who runs a stand for his bakery, and Frenchie, who isn't actually a stallholder, but is almost always busking near his friend Wee John’s stand of knitted goods, bringing life to the market even in the pouring rain. There's also Buttons, another regular at the market. Nobody is exactly sure what he does there- he doesn't sell things, or seem to buy anything either, but rain or shine, he's there with the birds.

Stede’s been doing this a few months by the time June rolls around. As he's setting up his stand, he notices that the area is much busier than it’d normally be at this time of morning. Lucius, who got roped into helping run Stede’s stall somewhere down the line (despite his protests that this is not what personal assistant means… But hey, he got a boyfriend out of it, at least), reminds him that there's the parade today, too- not realising that Stede had no clue there was a parade today, and especially not that it was pride. Stede immediately jumps to fretting about the amount of stock he’s brought, and Lucius takes the cue to escape, saying he’ll go and grab them coffee (but really, he's off to flirt with Pete)

Lucius is still missing when Ed stumbles across the little leather stall. Stede’s just ran back to his car to fetch his last boxes of inventory, and by the time he returns, Ed’s already begun to narrow down his choices. Stede greets him, starting to tell him that they're not actually open yet, but before he gets more than a couple of words out, Ed’s exclaiming “You're a Kiwi!!!”

The two of them smile at the shared recognition, and Stede says he’ll make an exception, just for Ed, and asks him what exactly he was interested in. Ed tells him that he's looking for a collar “for his boy”, and points out the particular design he was looking at. It happens to be one of Stede’s favourites from this latest run of work, a fact he mentions to Ed. It leads them into a discussion about Stede’s craft, and Ed’s Izzy, and then everything in between. Ed’s listening intently to the things Stede’s telling him, completely drawn in by the process, and by Stede himself. He watches as Stede stamps Izzy's name into the collar, and Stede even lets him have a go at one of the stamps.

Lucius reappears sometime in the middle of this- only to immediately retreat again, seeing Stede engrossed with Ed. He sets up camp at Pete's booth opposite, watching this man flirt intensely with his boss- and Stede flirt back just as hard. Does Stede even realise he’s doing it? Lucius had known Stede was gay since before Stede even admitted it to himself, but this is on a whole other level.

The pair stand there so long that Izzy comes to look for Ed- the two of them are manning a float on the parade with their crew, and it's past time for them to get geared up. He's already worked up, frustrated to have been left to set up everything alone, when Ed had just gone to see if he could get them both coffee. So maybe he's a bit of a prick, approaching with a brash “where the fuck have you been, Edward”, to which Stede brings the same energy, giving a bitchy “Ed! Do you know this guy?” Izzy tenses, ready to snap, but then Ed cuts in, excitedly telling Stede that this is “his Izzy!” Which confuses the hell out of Stede.

Forgetting his earlier attitude, he asks Ed if he “really named his dog after his friend”, only to be met with confusion right back from Ed at where the hell Stede got the idea he had a dog from. Stede gestures at the bag with the collar in it, to which Ed has to tell him, “oh, no, that's for him.” Ed tells Stede that they're here to run a float for their local leather society, and while Stede is certainly shocked by what Ed’s saying, he's not finding himself… uninterested. It's simply that he’s never even considered any of this before, especially not that people would use the things that he made for this, but Ed sounds so enthusiastic about it all. He tells him about how his friends would love to see Stede’s work, about how classic leather gear is always so fucking boring- but not Stede’s stuff, no, Stede’s stuff is “fresh” and “fascinating” and unlike anything Ed’s ever seen before.

Ed's enthusiasm is incredibly infectious, so when he invites Stede to come back to see their float, he readily agrees. It’s a concept Izzy’s less than enthusiastic about. He doesn’t really want to bring this man who’s dressed like he just walked out of a HOA board meeting to their kinky little corner of the world, but he is having a lot of fun watching Stede squirm, so decides not to raise a protest. He does demand he gets his long-overdue coffee first, though (Stede pays for it- as “compensation for him distracting Ed from his job”, he says, not giving Izzy a second to process before he's tapping his card)

By the time they return to the float, Fang, Ivan & Jim are waiting for them, all already geared up. Stede is stunned silent at the sight for about 5 seconds, before he starts actually looking at the quality of Jim’s harness, and proceeds to go off about the poor quality of the craftsmanship, about how the hardware is tacky and completely the wrong choice with this leather, how his “ten year old daughter could do a better job!!!”

There's complete silence from the group, until Izzy, of all people, bursts into laughter at Stede’s audacity (and, the fact he was staring at Jim's tits completely unabashedly, like he hadn't even noticed them in the first place). Izzy's laughter sets Ed off as he tells the group about Stede’s misunderstanding- “you didn't say he was a person!” “I mean, he's my dog”- and soon everyone's having a friendly giggle at Stede’s mistake.

It's somewhere in the middle of the retelling that Ed remembers that this whole thing happened because he was buying Izzy a gift. After a moments fumbling, he presents Izzy with the collar- It's a rich, deep black, embossed with a rolling pattern that resembles waves. It’s made from a firm enough leather to take the tooling, and to remind Izzy that he’s owned while he’s wearing it, yet still soft enough for long term comfort. Izzy's eyes immediately lock on to it, an unreadable expression coming over his face, and Ed turns it; first so he can really see the design and Izzy’s name embossed into it, and then so he can see the small “Ed ♥” on the inside of the collar, right over his swallow tattoo.

“I did the heart,” Ed says to him softly, intended only for Izzy’s ears. Izzy's eyes flick up to Ed’s, and he raises his chin to give Ed the room to put it on. Ed buckles the collar around his neck almost reverently, a test of the tightness turning into a caress of Izzy's neck. It's a perfect fit.

It's as though something comes over Izzy; so twitchy and abrasive earlier, now silent, staring at Ed with a look akin to worship in his eyes. He obediently tilts his head for a kiss as Ed's fingers move to his chin- It's a sight to behold, and one that has Stede intrigued. He wants to know more about this lifestyle, and these men in particular. He wants to be the one to put that expression on Izzy's face.

The moment breaks as Ed and Izzy pull apart, and Ed calls for the crew to finish the last bits of set up. Izzy shakes himself a little before running off to bark orders again, but even still, there remains a softness to him that wasn't there before.

Ed turns back to Stede with an apologetic smile, already obvious that he has to get going. Before he can speak, however, Stede jumps in -“My business numbers on the card in the box… I'll be around all day”- Ed’s smile turns more genuine at that, promising to stop by if he gets a moment, and that he’ll send his friend's Stede’s way- “if he wants that kind of business.” Stede says that he does, actually- that he's seen a whole new world already today, and, while he was a little taken aback at first, he can feel the passion Ed and his friends have for this life. If there's one thing that's ever mattered to Stede, it's other people's enthusiasm. Maybe he doesn't completely understand yet, but he would like to try.

One year later, Stede’s back at the market on pride weekend again, far better stocked for the crowds this time around. Lucius is finally free to spend the day flirting with Fang & Pete to his heart's content, now that Stede’s roped his own boyfriends into helping him run the stall- and into modelling the merchandise. Ed loves that part, while Izzy needs a lot more convincing, but the puppy eyes Stede & Ed weaponise against him make a very good argument.

#Despite what this post may imply; i actually know very little about the art of leatherwork #Im also not saying Stede got into leatherwork because of his repressed leather kink. But im not not saying that.#(This is not to say that i personally think leather gear is boring- i totally see the beauty in simple/plain designs & i get that the #style is all about the look of straps and hardware. but also. i know in my heart Edward ‘likes a fine thing’ Teach would be head over heels #for fun unique pieces. Its the whimsy of it all)#(not to turn this into OFMD meta but. You can like both; in fact. You can have the leather AND you can have the florals)#ALSO. dont ask me why izzy would find a big difference between wearing gear on the float vs the stand. it just felt right #(ok i do have reasoning. its the directness of it. in the parade its very part-of-a-crowd; every interaction in passing. running the stand #is direct interactions + they are specifically looking at Him. it feels different. but he does it because he loves his partners)#nyxtalks #ofmd #our flag means death #edward teach #stede bonnet #izzy hands #israel hands #blackbeard #blackhands #edizzy #gentlehands #stizzy #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #steddyhands #fanfic #sort of... i dont really consider this fic; more. scenario description but ill admit this ended up way closer to fic than i planned #but the weird stylistic choices are because. this wasnt intended as fully fleshed out fic.#i am not a writer & i dont want to be. im just a guy with ideas over here; and the best way to share ideas is through words #(Please dont count the commas per sentence ratio. Thats between me & god)#also. I cant believe i wrote something that can be tagged as gentlebeard centric. Who am i.

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