#like… time travel fix-its but this isn’t a fix-it

[preserve-or-raze]

for me, time blindness means that there are two times that exist: now and not now. for example, if i have to meet him for lunch at noon then i need to leave in 2 hours. but in my head that translates to “i do not need to leave now.” and since any time that isn’t now is not now, my brain treats this the same way it would “i need to leave in 6 months.” so now, i have to hope that in 2 hours, i remember that “it’s time to leave now.” (in this post i’m not going to get into the executive dysfunction that may or may not impede my actual leaving, but that’s a thing too.) if i remember too early, then we’re still in not now and i’m not leaving yet because other things need doing in the meantime. and obviously if i remember too late then i’m going to be late. relatedly, i also cannot seem to accurately judge how long it will take to leave; not to travel, but to get from “not traveling” to “traveling.” but again, that’s a separate issue.

now vs not now affects everything from deadlines to birthdays to bedtimes to cooking to getting places. anything that happens at a fixed time is subject to now vs not now and my remembering when now is at the right time.

it’s exhausting by the way. for sure because of the adrenaline that comes with remembering and quickly calculating if i’ve made a major mistake, but also because the only way to get remotely close to not forgetting something is by actively choosing to hold it in my memory. i must refuse to think about (and thus, do) anything else until the correct now arrives so that i don’t have to keep remembering anymore. if i let my mind go, it may not come back. this way of mentally holding on to something isn’t so bad if now will come in an hour or so. but the longer away it actually is, the less likely my brain is to keep its remembrance in the rotation. i’m sure i’ve made a post about how my memory works being like holding physical objects so i won’t go into it now, but my active memory is quite small, so the things that are closer to now (so i’m told) i try to bring across my memory more often.

i guess in that way my temporal organization depends more on how often i remember something than how soon it will become relevant. i equate how frequently i remember something with its importance; remembering something more often means i’m more likely to need that piece of info. it’s not so much that i need to do this now because it’s due tomorrow as it is i’ve remembered that it’s due not now four dozen times today, whereas next week’s thing only occurred to me 20 times and her birthday in 3 months i only remembered once (note: not to scale). that’s something i kinda only realized writing this post. huh.

The real thing with ADHD is not "I forgot", but that forgetting is this ongoing process. I remembered! And then I forgot.

At ten this (hypothetical) morning I remembered that I have a meeting at six. And then from 11 through 3 I worked on other stuff and had zero thoughts about that meeting. Maybe even thought about what I was gonna do with my evening at home. Got attached to the idea of taking the time to make a good dinner, maybe play some video games.

And then at three I said, "Oh! Fuck!" and remembered again, hopefully long enough to set an alarm. And then I went to the bathroom and remembered that I need to clean the counter and spent twenty minutes cleaning the bathroom and went to get a snack and then at five I said, "OH! FUCK!" and had to scramble to dress like a real adult and get out the door.

It isn't one clean forgetting. It's a constant process of forgetting and then, with an exhausting adrenaline spike, remembering. And then forgetting. Baby, I can forget the same thing more times in a day than you ever forgot your parents' anniversary.

[alphajocklover]

Im a 20 something burned out former gifted kid and after some soul searching and sometime in the gym and watching sports. I have come to realize that my life would have been so much better as a extremely dumb meathead jock. Is there any way to change my past or at the very least erase my IQ.

I completely understand man. Believe it or not, I tend to get burned out myself, if certain things (Like my complete lack of post for the last… forever) haven’t given that away. I know what it's like to be that twenty something year old guy, with everyone telling you that you have your whole life ahead of you, that this is just the beginning of your story, but still unable to let go of the idea that you have already wasted your youth. I get what you’re going through. 

But more importantly, I know how to fix it.

Most people would give you some advice, probably something like ‘you can’t keep looking to the past’ or ‘instead of regret, choose action’ or something like that. It’s good advice, if a bit cliche. But lucky for you, I’m not most people! Instead of giving you advice or helping you move past this regret over something you can’t change, I’ll just change it. I should warn you though, unlike most of my transformations, this won’t be a painless process. To get rid of all of that regret, all of that wasted time studying, all of those pesky little IQ points, we’re going to need to go to the extreme. We’re going to need to burn it off.

A lot of people associate burning, and most things fire related, with destruction, an uncontrollable, pointless, wanton kind of destruction that leaves nothing but ash and pain in its wake. In a way they’re right, destruction is a big part of burning, no one can deny that. It just isn’t the only part of burning, because burning doesn’t just bring destruction, but growth as well. Forest fires burn in order to break the old plants down to nutrients and make room for the new plants. Fevers inside us as our immune systems fight off infections and come back stronger. Muscles burn as we break them down in the gym so they’ll grow back stronger, beefier and sexier. Yes, burning breaks stuff down, but it also brings growth, and if you want to grow into the dumb meathead of your dreams we’re going to have to burn down the old you. Literally.

By the time you read this, you should have received a package from me. Don’t just go opening any unmarked packages though, you’ll know it's from me when you see it. Inside you’re going to find something unusual, a beautiful flame dancing in a jar. Don’t worry about it burning down your house, or of accidentally putting out the strange flame by dousing it with water or depriving it of air. It isn’t that kind of fire. This is a special fire, known as The Fire of Change. Or at least, it’s a part of it. The part I’ve sent you is just a spark, a fraction of the fire's power. It won’t stay lit very long, probably not more than a day after you’ve received it, but that should be plenty of time for you to do what you have to do. It’s going to feel unnatural to do so, mainly because of what would happen if it was any other fire, but for the changes to begin, you’re going to have to place a hand into the flames. It won’t burn, not in the way you’d expect, but it's going to feel hotter than anything you’ve ever felt before, like you’re placing your hand on a star. Before you realize, the flame will spread, traveling up your arm like a fire as it burns away the brush, burns away all you are and leaves something else in its place, something new and pure and burning hot. As the fire passes over your hand and up your arm you’ll watch your skin tan, your hand grow into a thick mitt, and your muscles grow, first your vascular forearms, next your suddenly beefy biceps. The fire will cross over your widening shoulders, down your thick, juicy pecs, burning away every part of the old version of yourself, the burn out version, and revealing something new underneath, someone filled with a masculine energy, a fire of lust. It won’t just be your muscles though, and it won’t just be physical. Yes, tattoos will burn themselves into your skin, stubble will grow on your studly jawline, and your hair will take a golden glow as the fire rages through it. But that same fire will burn through you, through your mind, changing how you think, through your heart, changing who you are, and through both your past and future, changing reality itself around you.

You burned alright. The old, burnt out you has become fuel, fuel to start the eternal flame that is the new you. Manly, cocky, muscular, horny, a true alpha. The new you is a fire that will never go out, that will burn bright like the sun, a fire with a glow that desperate twinks and lesser men will beg to bask in. Go. Burn. Let the fire grow, and spread.

---

Hey there! been a while! I want everyone to know that, even though I may post less often, I'm still here and happy to write hot stuff! See you again soon!

[ilium-ilia]

kiss the skin that crawls

john price x fem!reader | the surrogate au | masterlist

part one: help wanted

It starts with the shattering of iron. 

Manmade structures can only withstand the test of time for so long before nature swallows what was once hers. Arms growing, invading, reclaiming what was stolen. You’re very much aware that you are the problem as you stand in your bathroom, eyes glaring at your clogged shower drain, yet you only pity yourself. 

Tree roots, the plumber says. Common with these old houses, an old cottage just on the fringes of nowhere and somewhere, something that was bequeathed to you when your granny passed. Its charm is quaint, though far from opulent, you took it in a heartbeat, excited to start your life as a true adult. Yet, after all these years, you’ve yet to find a partner to settle down with, or a job that pays you well enough to travel the world, and now you’re footed with a bill that reminds you just what it means to be an adult. 

You pick up more hours at work—as many as you can from a remote position, anyway. Tapping away on your computer, trying not to shiver too much from your drafty windows, you chip away at the cost bit by bit. Eating away decay. Willing it away in an attempt to have your dream home. You tear down the floral wallpaper in your office and coat it with a shade of green that reminds you of old copper—a patina that lingers on your fingertips—all while pretending that the bathroom sink isn’t leaking half your wells worth of water. You pretend that your drops in the ocean make a difference; a ripple large enough to feel. 

Of course, something else shatters. 

Ancient windows crack. The gap between the front door and its frame is too big. Electricity and gas blows through your bank account worse than groceries. You’ve cut your hands on the logs you tried to chop for the fireplace. When winter bleeds into spring and summer, the heat is unbearable—stuck in a furnace that cooks you, tender flesh and all, you are dying in this home. Alone, working to fix every chip that cracks from the stones that build your house; you need something more. A breakthrough, a promotion, a favor. 

Salvation presents itself to you on your third hour of browsing online forums and social media for odd jobs. Mind rotten from pyramid schemes and near slave labor, you almost miss the post entirely. Her name is Kate Laswell, and she has—perhaps—the oddest job of them all; a need for a surrogate for her and her wife. 

Initially, your eyes gloss over the post. Pregnancy is exhausting, and with the state your home is in, the last thing you need to do is get pregnant—lumbering around, swollen like a balloon, attempting to make renovations on your dilapidating cottage. If you were at any other time in your life—more settled, steadier—maybe you’d seriously consider it. 

All your qualms dissipate the moment you read the foot of the post. 

Compensation starts at £100,000.

The zeros are almost more than you can count—more than you can comprehend. It burns into your eyes, urging your fingers to twitch. How anyone could afford to pay this much is beyond you, but you suppose children are expensive either way; certainly it’s nothing to this woman and her wife. 

With that type of money, you wouldn’t even have to do the renovations yourself. 

After an evening of deliberating, you blindly decide to shoot off a private message to Kate Laswell. Her profile is odd—void, and blank. No pictures, hardly any posts. You tell yourself it’s likely a scam, and you’ll receive some sketchy link back from her during some odd hour in the night, if you even get anything in response at all. Yet when you wake in the morning, that pictureless account has sent you a message in response: 

We would like to speak with you in person. When can you meet? 

Stupidly, you meet with Kate and Lottie Laswell the following weekend deep in the heart of London in the cozy embrace of a coffee shop that does nothing to settle your nerves. Caffeine is thick in the air, nestling in the weaving of your clothes, sticking to your hair and skin. Though you’ve never seen Kate before, you recognize her instantly. Her stern, straightforward gaze beams at you from beneath her mousy brown fringe the moment you walk through the door, prompting you to awkwardly wave in greeting before she motions you over to the table. 

If Kate Laswell is the moon, then her wife, Lottie, is the sun. Her bright blonde hair scintillates, and it only grows in intensity in the sunlight that seeps through the perforated curtains drawn over the window on her right. Pale blue eyes framed by florid cheeks crease as you take your seat across from them, and you note the way she buzzes in her seat, hands politely folded on the table, manicured nails tapping against the wood grain at her fingertips. She tilts her head to the side, soaking you in, and her smile only widens. 

“It’s so nice to meet you.” Her voice is pitchy—draws long and soft. She’s American, you realize. Southern, you think. Blinking in surprise, you return the gesture. 

Though Kate is kind and cordial, she is much more business oriented than her wife. Once curt introductions are out of the way, she gets on with her questions. Her low, even tone and keen eyes have you sweating—this feels more like an interrogation than an interview. She asks everything about you, prodding the deepest part of you, poking your skin just to see how far she can push before you wince. Her questions about your health history and sex life come blunt, and it pairs oddly with Lottie’s airy giggles, but as the questioning drones on and you see more nods of approval from Kate, you find your nerves slowly mending themselves back together again. 

Eventually the questions fade into something softer—easier to spit out. Tastier to swallow. They ask you about your life; the hobbies you partake in and the work you do. How your family is, and if you’ve been well. You tell them about the garden you attempt to keep in the flowerbeds lining the cottage, and the administrative tasks you do and the office you just painted. You try to avoid the topic of your home—the isolation, the exhaustion, the yearning—so you slap your life with buttercream frosting and pray it doesn’t melt under the heat of the conversation.

They indulge you when you ask questions about themselves, too. Lottie stays at home—has been dreaming of a child to dote after for ages—but she bakes for shelters and spends time volunteering at their local retirement home. It fits her, you think. Her bubbly attitude, the bright sheen in her pale eyes; a literal princess among mongrels. The patience of a saint, but with a wit sharper than most tongues you’ve seen.

“I work for an intelligence agency,” is all Kate says when the conversation points towards her. It’s stiff—firm enough for you to not question any further. 

“So, what made you interested in being our surrogate?” Lottie cuts in, saving you the grief of backpedaling. 

“Oh,” you chirp. Your explanation gets caught in your throat as a rosy heat settles at the base of your neck. Embarrassment. Evil, vile—you hate begging. Crawling, groveling. “If I’m being honest, really, it was… well, the payment…”

Kate nods in agreement, hands curling around her coffee mug, though the liquid has long since gone cold. “There’s no shame in that. It’s a big favor that we’re asking for, and we have the means to compensate accordingly.” 

She reads you like a book, and despite all your flaws, welcomes you. It comforts you knowing how strictly professional this is—you have no skin in the game. Nothing to hold on to. You’re simply being a good person. Doing a good deed. Helping their dreams come to fruition. In turn, they help you with yours—an equal exchange. 

“So, what made the two of you come to England?” you prompt, leaning back in your seat. “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve noticed the accents. Did you two move here recently?” 

“What, oh no,” Lottie giggles, hand floating in the air, waving as if pushing away the very notion. “Oh no, I don’t think I could ever leave Georgia.” 

“The donor lives here,” Kate explains simply. “Figured it would be easier to coordinate with a surrogate who lived nearby.” 

You nod, but it’s not enough to knock the confusion free from your brain. It’s visible on your face—your question. How you place two and two together; why would you need to be close to the donor? 

Before your mind can wander too far into that hole, Kate interjects. “We like meeting everyone in person. To ensure that it’s done right.” Then, her hands release her mug. “But he’s an individual I’ve worked with several times before. He’s a good man. Someone I trust.” 

“I imagine trust doesn’t come easy for someone in your line of work,” you quip. 

Kate cracks the first real smile you think you’ve seen from her this entire interview. “You’d be right.” 

“Oh, John’s such a great man. He’s been nothin’ short of sweet to us,” Lottie chimes in. As if suddenly remembering something, she begins to rustle through her purse until she successfully fishes out her phone. “We’ve been staying in a rental while we’re here—a beautiful thing—but we had some issues with the sink and cupboards and look! Fixed them right up for us, good as new!” 

She turns the phone towards you, revealing the kitchen and attached dining room that lies in their rental. Scrolling through a few pictures, you spot the before and after of their mini house project, and you try not to turn green with envy. Unhinged cupboards quickly screwed back into place, water damage mopped clean and patched up, good as new—almost every issue that’s been plaguing you in your cottage has come and gone within a blink of an eye for them, all while you’ve struggled to gather the means and the skills to bestow such a fortune like that upon yourself. 

Then, you see it—

—him. 

There, in the back, leaning against the granite countertops, blue jeans sitting on his hips, this donor—this John—wipes his hands off on a tea towel with a tight lipped smile. Thick patches of dark, coarse hair line his arms in hatch marks, thickening towards the swell of his forearms as he dries his thick fingers off with cotton. His head is lowered as if in prayer, crows feet on display, obscuring the color of his eyes, but you see the way his trimmed beard lines his jaw and upper lip, how it blends into the inky locks of his hair. 

He’s a large man—you note the way his iliac crest rests on top of the counter rather than beside or below it, a towering creature with a soft smile that stands out against his broad frame. Swelling biceps, flexing fingers—

“Such a beautiful rental,” you comment before your mind can wander any further. 

The sharp corners of Lottie’s cupid’s bow flattens as she clicks her phone off, lips curling into a near-smirk. “We’re having dinner tomorrow night at our place with John. Just a little get together is all, but we’d love it if you joined. Might be easier to flesh out all the details with everyone together. I promise I’ll cook you up the best chicken pot pie you’ve ever tasted.” 

Something tickles the back of your mind. It unsettles, wiggles, writhes where it shouldn’t. You feel how it crawls around on the inside of your cranium, slices through your brain and prods at the back of your tongue—it’s incessant. It urges you to speak before you can even think of the words. Meeting with donors—having the donors meet together... 

Then your mind thinks of that number. The zeros make your head spin, jumbles it up enough that you don’t even bother to question the circumstance or terms and conditions before you’re nodding. 

“Dinner sounds perfect.”

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[fanzou]

It’s a Match!

✗ Pairing: Zoro Roronoa x Fem!Reader

✗ Summary: Lost in an annoying town full of annoying good-for-nothing people, Zoro seeks refuge in an odd looking tent, only to find that it belongs to the towns famous match-maker!

✗ Total WC: 7.0K

✗ CW: SMUT! Zoro is in fact an eater, Zoro in disguise? (Not really), Cunnilingus, P in V sex, Soft Zoro (just a lil bit), Most of this is just smut, ZORO UNMATCHED LIBIDO

✗ A/C: This was such a random thought in my head but I feel like I did so well executing it. I’m hoping you guys like it just as much as I liked writing it!

It’s so nice; The Sunny is really living up to its name right now. The fire-y orb in the sky makes his skin impossibly warmer and it feels wonderful. He rests his hands behind his head and his eyes are closed—both eyes.

Even the waters below don’t crash against the boat so harshly. It doesn’t rock the floating chunk of wood so much to the point that it’s unbearable to even rest as he is, like he wants to.

He doesn’t hear any bombarding voices or obnoxiously loud steps or bangs, not that he isn’t used to it, he’ll sleep right through it because he knows it’s just the ruckus and havoc caused by the usual three idiots doing constant idiotic stuff. But there isn’t any alarming or annoying commotion right now and it makes the peace all the more peaceful, if that was possible.

It’s almost too good to be true, he grunts before he has to involuntarily peel his one eye open and scope the scenery out so that he wasn’t missing any secret attack.

Okay…

Fine. Everything’s fine. And he slowly shuts his eye once more.

It’s not like this everyday and Zoro is eternally grateful for this peaceful afternoon.

And rest he does, in pure bliss with the sun shining off of his defined skin with no havoc to be wreaked and no cook to engage in annoying banter with.

For like… 5 minutes.

-

“Zoro! Get up!” Luffy calls, jumping up and down unavoidably disturbing what he yearned for most, “We’re here!”

Welp, all good things must come to an end right?

Even for the time it was, and he knew for a fact that it was still noon, the lights of the town that inhabited the land still somehow illuminated very brightly. A headache. He gets up finally to wake himself up just a little bit more and he looks around to see almost everyone gathered and ready for the next stop. “Zoro! You finally up?”

He stretches his muscles a bit and fixes his yukata as he does so, “Yeah…m’up.” He says, there’s a little tiredness in his voice.

And now as they near the inescapable flashy lights and overly-decorated scene, he feels even less willing to jump off board and continue his travels with the crew. They’ve talked about this place for the past two days, and none of it seemed intriguing in the way they had described it to be.

Nothing intriguing, and nothing worth mentioning the second they make their way back to the ship.

Which is why he’s more than willing to keep watch of it while they do their own little thing.

“You guys can take this one. M’just gonna stay on board for the time being.” He makes an attempt to walk away before Luffy’s already starting his complaints.

“But you can’t! You have to come, it’ll be fuuuuun! Zoroooooooo!” He yells, because when is Luffy ever not yelling, and grabs hold of his muscles from across the ship with his gum-gum powers.

It’s comedic, laughable. Luffy really is persistent, and it’ll surprise many to believe that his persistence is enough to persuade the big, bad swordsman.

“Usopp said that the food here is amazing! Please, you can’t miss out on this one, c’mon!”

It really is Luffy’s word over everything.

Which is why, unfortunately, he has to join them.

-

So much for his long-gone peace. He got lost somewhere along the way.

Straying away from the group after a liquor store caught his eye, the congested area stirred him far from everyone, and now he was here—just roaming. Sure he could’ve started his search back, but he wasn’t necessarily confident in his ability to do it given the many other circumstances he had… unfortunately, put himself through. So he put his faith in fate.

Don’t even get him started on how much livelier the place is too, how is this even a town? It’s small sure, but it’s so bright, it feels like he’s getting flash-banged anytime his eyes look anywhere but the floor. If he didn’t know any better he’d think this was some sort of grand city. But Zoro would be lying if he said that it wasn’t decent-looking at the very least, the streets littered with decorations from top to bottom with lanterns and glitter shining so brightly.

It wasn’t completely an eyesore, just maybe the people that inhabited the space, and the overdone style to it.

And in the grand scheme of things, there were perks to the obnoxiously crowded area, it did well to shield his public appearance so many would not recognize him. Nor would they care with the way they practically fixated on everything but.

Arrows pointing here, lights pointing there, it only gets worse when it starts getting dark, his exhaust long fades, replaced with an indescribable frustration. He feels his eye twitch every 2.5 seconds, brows furrowed while he clenches his teeth at the bombarding and invasive illuminating advertisements for shops and restaurants that are literally right there. In front of the store.

“Hey, handsome, need a massage? Ya look pretty tense!”

No thanks.

“Hot dogs! Hot dogs for only 100 berries!”

No thanks.

“Fun for him and her! Come to our store so you and your lady can have a great night together!”

No. Fuckin’. Thank you.

He shakes off the growing frustration that brews within him, his patience runs thin and everyone and everything around him is doing little to compensate. He’s mad that he decided to tag along, because it proved worthless in the end, he got lost and now he has to reap the consequences of this stupid fiasco that Luffy so eagerly dragged him along on.

He sighs, defeat evident in his breath. He tries relaxing his shoulders a bit and without the risk of losing his other eye from how blinding every single thing in his vision is right now; he scans the area to find at least somewhere he can ease his mind.

Something, anything. At this point.

And in little time he spots that something. Between two stores, the left store labeled “WAX-IT-OFF!”, and the right being “Grand Line Finance”. He snorts. The complete irony and comedy within the two differing stores humors him but it quickly subsides once he sees what confuses him; it’s an almost igloo-shaped tent. Hm, he says to himself. He naturally gravitates towards it, or unnaturally almost. It’s quite unlike him to let his curiosity get the better of him.

The tent is covered by a velvet fabric and there’s a purple-ish pink light coming from the inside, and for a tent—it’s quite large—fit to house at least 10 people at a time. He doesn’t notice it then but there’s a line that’s already formed, and he waltz’ right on ahead almost as if he owned the huge sphere covered in blankets itself, ignoring the complaints of the crowded line that had been apparently waiting there for quite a while, they express their verbal insults and trash-talk alike towards Zoro.

They don’t do much to hold him back, though.

When he reveals the other side of the curtain, eager to see just what had been waiting, it was far more relaxed, an almost seductive energy that welcomed him. One thing he did realize, was how much more quiet it had become. His once tense muscles immediately unclench at the tranquil setting around him. His hear pears left and right to find that it was just as predictable as the outside was, but that wasn’t to say he was disappointed, quite the opposite.

“Sir, are you next up?” He looks around to see where the voice comes from, and he’s a little confused. “Down here, ya big oaf!” His returned peacefulness is quickly disturbed.

He looks down and it’s a man half his size, he had a weird looking hat and glasses that didn’t let him see behind them. He has a badge that reads “RIO” in bold letters, what Zoro assumes to be his name.

“Are you here to see Lady match-maker or not? She doesn’t have much time to wait!” The man half his size grabs hold of his muscular hand and he just follows. He doesn’t know why. Doesn’t understand how. Typically if it were anything or any other circumstance he’d probably just get the hell out of there, but he doesn’t sense any kind of danger. Not when his only opponent is a 3-foot man and the inside of this new found tent was so comfy.

And—what did he say about a match-maker?

The odd looking fellow practically has to drag him full force across the room and to expose to Zoro another curtain.

Presumably what Zoro thinks might be, “the match-maker”.

He’s got a bad feeling about this, not the sort of enemy territory feeling but a cringy uncomfortable and dumb feeling.

The shorty speaks, “You have ten minutes.” He unveils the curtain and pushes Zoro, or, tries to push Zoro in, but he doesn’t actually step in unless it’s under his own volition because he’s so heavy. When he does; he drinks in the entire scene in front of him, somehow even more glittery fabrics and silky blankets draped across and on top of one another, a table smack dab in the center with someone behind it.

Lo and behold, you—the uh… the match… making—maker. Yeah.

The small guy leaves Zoro’s sight and leaves him under your supervision.

And God, are you beautiful. A lot like your enclosed environment you wore a seemingly large robe that covers a lot of the floor almost acting as a sheet itself. It’s nicely coated around your body, the only skin on you that isn’t modestly covered is your neck and cleavage area and he doesn’t necessarily make his roaming eyes a secret.

And when you speak, “Hello, you can take a seat anywhere.” Your voice is smooth, and the more he takes you in is the more he falls into a sort of hypnosis. You giggle at the tension so prominently visible in his figure, “No need to be shy. Take a seat anywhere.

He snaps out of the trance you didn’t even know you put him in, or maybe you did. Who knows, he sits across from you with his legs crossed into each other and his hands laid onto his lap with a posture that you almost envy, you appreciate his formality.

And he’s just thinking about how amazing it would probably be to fall asleep in here, possibly with you.

It’s at this point that Zoro realizes that he hasn’t talked the whole time, but he makes little effort for his lack of speech until it’s you who breaks the silence.

“First, your name?”

He prepares his voice with a clearing of his throat, “Zo—” Oh wait, shit. He mentally face palms, but is quick to recollect himself. He quickly comes up with a name as a means to cover-up his true identity.

“Zorayo.”

Your brows furrow like you don’t buy it and his heart stops for the slightest second. “Zorayo?”

He feels so awkward right now. “Yeah… Zorayo.”

“Mmm, that sounds a lot like that infamous pirate-hunter… what was his name? Rorono… Roroyoa?” You think long and hard, “Roronoa Zoro!”

He clears his throat with an eye anywhere but yours. “Uh, yeah. I get that. A lot.” With a slight nod.

You scribble something down in your notes, he assumes to be his half-ass attempt at a name. He really hopes he’s not red, because everything about this is just plain embarrassing. If what he assumes about you being a “match-maker” is true and if anyone on the crew saw him coming out of this place, he doesn’t think he’d hear the end of it.

“You don’t happen to be a pirate yourself, do you?” At this, he tenses once again, “You’ve got the look.” He’s a bit taken aback, but as he scans your face for some sort of discomfort or distress, he’s even more surprised at how okay you are with the fact.

You’re not looking at him, instead you’re scribbling something down. You have been this whole time, hardly looking at him.

Yet somehow, the next words to come out of your mouth are, “I find it difficult to believe that you’re really here for match-making, Zorayo.” You drop your pen and rest your chin on both your hands, “What really brings you?”

He grunts, closes his eyes, and inhales. He’s trying to formulate up a lie, but it’s hard when you’re so beautiful. Your eyes are staring into his soul, he’s never seen anything like it. “No, I am. My friends… said that I needed to find a woman. B-But really I just wanna get laid.” If he didn’t know any better, he’d say his answer disappointed you a bit. “Y’know, if that’s an option.” Your hands come down and grip the pen once more to write down a few notes, and he can’t help from tapping on his knee a little bit now. His answer was shallow, desperate, and far from him, and he doesn’t understand why it bothered him to care about how you perceived it.

You let a silence linger for a bit as you bring the pen to your lips and tap it a few times, “What’s your ideal type?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “S’what I’m trying to figure out, woman.” He snorts, and your face returns with an almost bothered look.

You roll your eyes and rest the metal pen down harshly, “Do you actually wanna get ‘laid’?” You ask him almost rhetorically and using his vulgarities against him, “Then don’t be a smart ass.” You mumble under your breath, God, you pirates.

Once again, he’s taken aback by the sheer bluntness in your claim, and he’s almost offended. He gulps, he’s not nervous. Can’t be.

“Why do you assume I’m a pirate?” He exclaims in genuine confusion. “Look at you!” To emphasize your claim you extend your hand in reference to the big muscular and scarred man, “And besides, you’re not the only one who’s ever come to me for my assistance.”

He almost wants to mirror your previous eye roll, assistance?

Almost sounds like he’s having trouble getting his dick wet.

And, well—It looks that way, and he wants to crawl in a hole, anyone other than the one he was kinda already in, because of how utterly shameful this is to him.

Thankfully or not-so-thankfully you break the silence, “You have 6 minutes on the clock, mister. Better make it worth while.”

If he were being honest, all he wanted to do was just rest across the shiny blankets that littered the entire place, even if it meant he had to threaten everyone outside in line in order to get it. And he curses himself for getting into this predicament.

Speaking of outside, he did not want to go back anytime soon. The disgusting, flashy and flamboyant, utterly obnoxious, did he mention disgusting?—Outside.

Well, here goes nothing.

Zoro thinks on his response for you, he wants to make it so that it gives you at least something to work with, but not so much that it sounds tender or anything like that.

“I like women who know what they’re about. Not the shy type. I like ‘em when they can fend for themselves.” He nods in confirmation, satisfied with his own proclamation.

And you seem to be as well. There it is. Now we’re talkin’.

You scribble down on your notes once again, more impressed and relaxed by his revelation, it’s not much but it’s progress. “Anything… physical?”

“Mmm… physical?” He pans his vision from the soft scenery to you, “not… not necessarily.” He’s back to ogling you again.

You scribble, “Okay, Zorayo… You don’t like short hair? Long hair?”

You’re not met with a response, and when you look up, Zoro is still there, just with his unwavering gaze set on you, or more accurately—gaze fixed on your body, like he’s checking you out.

“Zorayo?”

He shakes his head as if to shake away unwanted thoughts. “Oh— Um. No. Yes. I mean, listen, S’long as she’s not ugly.”

Ugh, where have I heard that a gazillion times before.

Men.

“How am I supposed to identify that if you won’t tell me what you find physically attractive?!” The tip of your fingers are white from your grip.

Clients are difficult, clients are stubborn, and it’s not like you haven’t come across a guy like this once in a while, but you’d be damned if you didn’t admit that it was annoying as hell every. Single. Time.

You breathe, “Zorayo, full transparency.” You place your fingers on your chest to mark sincerity, your tone is softer. “I think you are attractive, I believe you’ll find no trouble in getting a girl in that department. I sense that you don’t often make the first move, and because of your naturally intimidating nature, it’s like a double-edged sword. Women won’t approach you.” You empathetically state. He just listens.

You ponder on your next word-choice as to not offend him if you had already, “it’s only difficult because you make it difficult. I assure you, you would have girls falling at your feet if you were just a little more… giving?” You finish with hope that he understands your meaning.

You can tell he absorbs your words a bit, and it’s definitely progress from where you started. You rest your shoulders in a bit of relief to find that he finally might seek that inner peace and comprehension, understanding maybe why he might be feeling so defeated in the romance department. You weren’t a match-maker for nothing, right?

He puts his finger on his chin, and the smallest tiniest smile graces his face.

“Well f’thats the case, why don’t you just sleep with me?”

“That’s great, Zo—Huh?” Your eyes are shot wide open, and you look at him in pure disbelief. What the hell is wrong with this guy? “How could you even suggest something so inconsiderate and vulgar? I have clients that are patiently waiting outside!”

He snorts, “They can always wait.” His smirk gets wider, his eyes a little darker. You gasp, or scoff—you don’t know what it is. You’re so blown away by the fact that he’d request something so dirty and scandalous. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m not one for the taking, idiot! I am the match-maker, not the matched.”

He becomes more relaxed in his posture, his hands are grounded to the floor behind him to act as balance, “Is it against the rules or somethin’? Like ya can’t get fucked?”

Oh, he’s getting so much more vulgar, and… for some reason, it’s… turning you on a bit. And he looks unbothered, almost bored at your fit. You’re red, you’re red all over. It’s bad. This is bad for you. Usually you’re not the flustered one, and sure clients will come in with their occasional flirting and advances. But this?

This is too advance.

“Zo… Zorayo—I can’t possibly…” you close your eyes as you look away from him and shamefully pull your face away from his direction. But he’s not hearing a no, which is something he’d assume you would have verbally expressed by now. And… sure. He was attractive, very visibly, audibly… verbally so. It’s not something you lied about with clients, which is why you were not sold on the fact that he needed any help finding the perfect woman for he in fact, was sculpted by the Gods themselves.

He takes it upon himself to get up, walk over to your side while you wallow in your state of shamefulness and whatever it is that you’re so worked up about. He’s slow in his movement, calculated to see how you’d react if he got anymore closer to you to ensure that what he was about to do wasn’t one-sided and you weren’t actually against the concept.

He kneels at your side and his hand finds its way to your lap, you yelp a bit at the sudden contact. You’re so ashamed right now, so red.

Then it dawns on him, you poor thing. He smiles sadistically. It hits so quickly by the way you react at his physical advance, that you yourself are not being taken care of. The woman who has set up many couples for life? The woman who has brought people to fate and great happiness? But herself? The smile on his face grows a little bit wider, and his hand snakes to your chin, an attempt that you almost melt into too easily. He gets closer to your face. You’re finally looking at him, and he waits for the green light.

“I’ll… I’ll tell Rio to close up for the n-night.”

He’s satisfied, “Good girl.”

You drag your knees across the covered floor as you make your way to the covers, your hands are shaking—with excitement or anxiety, maybe both. You don’t know. You fix yourself, pull the covers in hopes of only revealing your own flushed face and there he was, patiently waiting for your signature cue.

“Rio, there’s a bit of an issue.”

The short man immediately responds, “What is it, my lady?” He sounds a little alarmed so you assure, “I’ll have to reject my services for the rest of the night…”

“T-This one’s… a special case.” You feign a soft smile.

He seems confused a tad, because there’s never an instance where you’ve felt the desire to put such an abrupt stop to your services. A special case? That makes him visibly more confused, but he’s confident in your skill and trusts that you understand what you’re doing. “Understood, Miss. I’ll leave you to it while I fight off those desperate dogs outside.” He laughs at his joke and turns his back to you. You manage a small thank you.

You were confident in his ability in doing so, though he be small he was quite fierce. When the coast was clear and you hear your assistants muffled yells to the stubborn customers, you slowly cover back the space leaving you to the muscled beast, alone once again.

You turn to him, “I’m just letting you know that I haven’t had sex in a while, so you’re gonna need to prep me.” You make work of the robe that’s snug tightly around your waist.

He scoffs, as if offended by your request, “‘Thout question.”

You furrow your brows, “Don’t get cocky on me now, it’s you who needs to get laid.” And you instantly regret the words that come out of your mouth, because now he’s giving you daggers for eyes. He gestures you over nonetheless, and you crawl over to him with no question, now it’s as if you’re entranced by the green-haired man, he’s handsome—beautiful almost, it doesn’t take much will-power to follow his fingers that beckon you over.

“A-And, you can’t be too rough.”

“That’s fine.”

“—And we stop when I say so.” He nods in respect, huh, easier than you thought.

After the knot of your robe was undone, and it feels like it was forever til you got it, you reveal a loose and simple dress underneath and he doesn’t exactly make his appeal towards you discreet.

But it dawns on you, because you haven’t done this in what feels like an eternity that you literally don’t know what to do, let alone with someone so… large?

“How do you wanna…” you gulp and pick at your nails in nervousness.

“Jeez, woman. You a virgin or somethin’?” Well, right now you might as well be. He gets up from his seated position and stands on his knees, “Lay down on the table.”

It’s probably for the better that he’s in control of everything you both do, you’ve already laid out the ground rules of what he can or can’t do, and it’s only really up from here. You do as he instructs, not too eagerly, not too anxiously and you can say that you were satisfied with the way you carried yourself thus far. You just really really hope he can’t tell that you need this as much as he might.

You sit on your little table, and he’s kneeling in front of you.

He’s impossibly bigger.

He grabs ahold of your thighs, almost letting his fingers dip underneath the fabric of your short dress and you shiver in immediate reaction. His hands are so warm, and you can’t help but put your smaller one on top of his.

He takes it as a sign to let his face come closer to yours, and you could almost call him a romantic; the way he tilts his head and his eye is half-shut, he leans in almost too slow for your liking, but his lips meet yours anyways. He almost made you feel like you had to earn it.

When your lips touched, it takes you by surprise to learn that they’re much softer than they look, and he’s skilled—he comes closer, his fingers glide up to your hips and underneath your last piece of large coverage, he grips a little tighter but not uncomfortably so, and his tongue swipes across your lip almost as if to ask for permission to enter.

—And enter it does, you whimper pathetically into his attack and it’s getting very hot. Be it his body temperature or how much you’ve moved within the past 5 minutes within such a tight space, it’s inevitably warmer in your familiar environment. You wonder, is he this good at everything?

Only one way to find out.

“Lie down on your back.” He commands as he pulls away, and you oblige. On your back you get a better look at his figure that looks like it’s about to eat you alive. It’s technically what you want right now, anyway. He hooks his thick finger into your panties and pulls them down. For the first time you hear a satisfied grunt leave his mouth, he’s been damn near non-verbal this entire time so it feels like a little prize when he does.

He throws your undergarment to the side but never strips his stare away from you, “This all for me?” That smirk returns, he takes his middle finger and starts pressing it up and down your cunt that draws another whimper out of you. You think he’s referencing the wetness, and it’s kind of embarrassing.

He laughs at your sudden inability to talk back.

“J-Just get it over with.” You say, you don’t realize it until then but you’re gripping the edge of the table almost like you’re bracing for some sort of impact, perhaps you were just that nervous, would he really be gentle like he promised? He looks down at you, and your body immediately softens, he doesn’t look so mean or aggressive at this moment.

He glides his hands up to the back of your knees and presses them impossibly up to your chest and it confuses you for a split second. He dips down immediately and flattens his tongue almost down from your asshole and all the way up to your clit. Your body flinches a bit and you seethe.

Just when you thought he might have been setting the pace nice and sensually slow, he immediately goes to town, sucking and licking at your pussy like a man starved. You whimper his fake name.

He cringes at the name a little bit, but it instantly subsides when he realizes just how good your cunt tastes. He makes quick work of adding a finger inside whilst his tongue continues a nice attack on your clit. You’re in another dimension at this point. This position was so vulnerable, so open and you now understand why he decided that it was best to start like this.

Another finger joins in, and the way your pussy sounds is pornographic—his bulge grows impossibly bigger and he catches himself from moaning as a blanket softly touches his sensitive area. He’s enjoying this way more than he thought he would. As a matter of fact, Zoro forgets why he was even here in the first place, not that he cares but—wow, what a prize you were. If getting lost meant this was what welcomed him on the other side every time, he’d have to try it a lot more.

You’re gone, understandably so. “It’s—soooo goood, mmmm…” you curse and whine at his fast pace, “‘Think m’gonna—!”

And like manifestation you cum, it hits so much harder than you think it will and the come-down is so much slower than you anticipated.

His fingers and tongue fuck you through it but not unbearably, he pulls his fingers out and glides them up and down your slit as he watches your face contort into a feeling of indescribable satisfaction. He lets you come down from your amazing high before he’s bringing your body closer to him by a latch of your hips, “That feel good baby?” He says in a husky voice, kissing up and down your neck and all you can manage is a whiny mhm! before he’s pulling off his yukata and leaving you speechless.

You softly moan at his bare physique, the little window of his chest doesn’t do it any justice—it’s much better than you expected it to be, much larger too and his cock is damn near screaming to come out just by the looks of it stretching the material out.

You pick yourself up with all the strength from your arms and try to get your dress off, and he watches you struggle for a moment before, “Here, let me—” and in little effort, he pulls it over your head.

He looks you up and down, and it goes straight to your throbbing cunt once again. “Fuck, you’re gonna drive me crazy.” You lay down again but this time pushing yourself up just a little bit by your elbows, just to get a glance at the action.

“You want me to take care of you, doll? Huh?” Zoro pulls his own undergarments down, revealing what you’ve been aching for this entire time. “A shame, no one thought to ever take your feelings into consideration.” He gives himself a few strokes as he lines himself up, then slowly pushes into you. He sighs at the stretch, and the way it slowly and surely disappears into you. “Takin’ it so fuckin’ well. Just like you should.”

Your eyebrows instantly smash together with your mouth hanging open, eyes squinted just the perfect amount. Zoro groans, “You’re so fuckin’ tight, hm? You want me to keep going?”

“Y-es, yes please! Need it bad!”

And since you asked so nicely, he gives a little push in and out, it makes you moan so desperately that one of your hands clenches within itself from how shameful the nature of it truly was.

And you’re so sure that even with the unnecessary amount of coverage the tent has, someone’s probably heard you if they were close enough. You should be ashamed of yourself; getting slutted out like you were some sort of cock-sleeve. No man has ever made you feel this full, so anyone curious enough to get up close was just gonna have to put up with how much of a whore you sounded like right now.

He picks up his pace and it’s not relentlessly fast or painfully slow, it was just right and you think you might be on Cloud 9 with the way the thing glides in and out of your once neglected cunt.

“Tell me how much you like it, doll.” His head is tilted and his gaze is marked with nothing but lust.

“It feels s-so… so good. Feels like nothing I ever felt before— fuck!” You grab hold of the edge of the table and any loose blanket in close proximity. “More, please! More Zorayo!” And he was so lost in his own pleasure that he’s long forgotten about that dumb name he decided to give you.

“J…Just call me Zoro.” He says breathlessly, pace never faltering.

Well, must’ve been as good a time as any to have told you that, because you really didn’t seem to care, maybe too cock-drunk to even think about it enough. And honestly Zoro himself doesn’t either, with the way your tits bounce with every time he pounds into you, you look like you’re in another world and he’s soon to join you.

You’re moaning, then it turns into soft little cries and whimpers and that’s when Zoro knows that you’re on close approach.

“Let it out, baby. Like that.” His own thrusts are a little sloppy and he’s watching your every expression with close examination. “Juuust like that, s-shit.” The way he talks you through it, his grip on your skin and the skin-ship itself—it’s so much, it pushes you over the edge. With a cry of his actual name this time, which sounds so much better and allows him to relish in his own bliss fully, you cum, and it’s even better than the last.

Your body shakes with every thrust that goes in and out, in and out while Zoro chases his own high, his body shivers a little bit and he finally pulls out when he knows the exact moment he might accidentally fuck his release into you. He pushes your legs coated with slick tightly together, then starts to thrust into your thighs, the scene is disgustingly lewd; he’s using you to get off with your own body but oh well, he’s not pushing his seed inside of you and that’s what counts.

He paints your stomach with all different kinds of strokes and you’re a living breathing mess, there’s so many fluids coating your body that you can hardly tell which is which aside from the one on your stomach, you’re tired to say the least. But you’re still aching.

You’re aching for him, in specific. It’s not enough, and after tonight you don’t think it’ll ever be enough, he’s too good. Too skilled for his own good and you can’t stop wanting him. “Zoro, *breath* n-need *breath* more.” You manage to say as you try leveling yourself. “Need more of your cock, ple—ase!”

And all you had to do was ask.

He picks you up a little and off the table with your assistance, grounding your body on the floor next to it, that way Zoro can get in a more intimate position he’d hoped for all along. His body on yours, in whatever way you’ll allow him to take you. It sounds like a dream.

You claw at his bicep while he hovers over you, and it feels like he hasn’t kissed you in forever. He comes down to meet your lips once again, shaft in hand and again, lining himself up. Only this time as a warning Zoro rubs himself up and down before entering you with a slow push. You manage a “Mmmfffhh!” At the intrusion, but you welcome it anyways. He starts his pace like the last.

There’s something different about it though, it might be the intimacy and just how close you guys seem to be this time around, you’re wrapping yourself around him like he was your life-line. You have your hands tight around his shoulders with your legs hanging off his hips for support while they rock into you with much force to accompany it.

He’s just as gone as you are, his cock is hitting you in the deepest places he couldn’t have imagined. “You’re… so good for me, s’like you’re mine. Letting me fuck you like th—is.” He says with a groan following suit, “You like getting spoiled like this, baby?”

Your eyes are shut tight and you’re dizzy, “Mhm! O—Only by you! J-Just by you Zoro!”

Now it might’ve been the heat of the room, but you feel so impossibly wet, all over. And it’s proven in the way that the blankets surrounding you are slowly getting drenched with your sweat amongst many other things, you’re a bit ashamed for a second, you wonder how you’ll clean it up.

That thought gets thrown out the window the faster it comes in through it, Zoro hits a spot you were all too familiar with and you cry out. “Oooooooh… fuck… yesyesyesyesyes—” You chant his name like your life depended on it, and he feels like he could just explode right then. He’s so enamored by you, the way your sweat accentuated every beautiful thing about you and it sends him into overdrive, he promised not to get rough but it’s impossible. His hips are automatic in that sense, he just wants to ruin you.

You don’t seem to mind the change in pace, how rough he fucks you, though. “Y-Yes, like that, don’t. Fucking. Stop.” You welcome it if anything.

He laughs at your change of heart, “M…not planning to, doll.”

And almost as if you’re trying to choke around him, it’s dangerously tight, and with every thrust it feels almost impossible going back in—it’s like he can’t imagine that this feels good for you but your face truly begs to differ. You stare at him with so much desire in your eyes and your body naturally pleads for more, bucking hips and arms like you never wanna let go. Zoro doesn’t even remember what drove him to come here in the first place, but he can’t imagine a better outcome—a doll like you, sweet and willing to let him fuck you in any position he wished. God, he almost wants to steal you away from this loser town and have you all to himself.

He feels himself dangerously closer this time, all the more sensitive. And without your audible declarations, he thinks he might cum before you.

He brings his thumb to your clit and starts his circular motion before coming down to kiss you gently, muffling your sweet sounds while you wrap your hands around his neck. Everything about this screams intimate, if it wasn’t for how rough he’d have been going you would have thought he was making love to you.

You gasp for air as your orgasm quickly reigns down on you for the third time, his strokes are a little bit sloppier and he’s instantly pulling out to once again; cumming on your stomach.

It’s quiet for a while save for the sighs and heavy breaths that leave both your throats, he’s leaning back off of his heel to get a good look at you after damn near ravaging you. He’s content, but he genuinely believes he could go for another couple more rounds. Your laid on your side, eyes closed and relaxed.

Zoro turns you back onto your position before and takes a nearby piece of cloth that is to no surprise nearby, to wipe off your stomach, “Bailin’ on me already?” He says, it’s playful but he’s as a serious as you’ll let him be. He’s still half hard and he doesn’t think he’d be able to stop anytime soon.

“How many rounds can you go, you beast?” You ask trying to sit up off of your elbows once again.

“Bout as many as you can take.”

-

And take you do, the brute man fucks you through all the rest of the continuous rounds. Slow, hard, soft—just when you think you might not be able to withstand the next one, all it takes is a glance at his hungry eyes and you’re back under his wrath, it’s pathetic almost and you should be ashamed, but it feels euphoric.

You realize about half-way through it all that you’re not fucking just anyone, but the Roronoa Zoro. The man with a billion dollar bounty on his head. It should make you stop. Shouldn’t it? You should put an end to this scandal before someone finds you out, the second it dawns on you.

And you’ll take it to the grave; the truth is that it made you so much more hungrier for him. You, a mere civilian amongst a no-name town that many along the Grand Line used as a means to kick their feet up and relax, so small and irrelevant… are fucking one of the most dangerous men across the 4 seas?

Why, it was nothing but fuel to you. To go harder, faster, just for him. Just to impress him and make him feel like you were the only one for him.

The last round is when he ruthlessly suggests that you ride his dick, you could tell that he was getting off on the idea of you being so desperate for his cock and trying to muster up any will-power to drag yourself up and down. It was comedic really, you were crying, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop even though your thighs were so painfully sore. It almost felt like a drug.

Along the way he decides that he’s bored with the theatrics and pulls you down just to fuck up into you. And the way you came just felt as good as the last. You pulled off of him and rubbed your slit onto his shaft while he came as well.

Now with him sprawled against the bedded floor with him on top of you, it’s boiling in the room now, you might even slide off of him because of how wet you both are. Lewd, dirty, disgusting. But if no one’s outside with pitchforks and fire the way you chanted his unmistakable name, you’d say you weren’t too loud. Maybe.

“So, d’you think I found my match?” He says, and you can’t help the laugh that erupts from you.

“Not yet.” You lay your head against his wet chest, “You’re gonna have to keep looking. Plenty of fish in the sea.”

His chest vibrates against your head with a big hum, “Not worth my while, not as good a fish as you.”

[hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog]

Too Far.

Summary: He's like a wounded animal when he's angry, lashing out when he feels cornered. He's gone too far this time, snapped and said something he definitely didn't mean, so now he has to fix it.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Fighting. Daryl is a dick, but not really, but also he is. Apologetic!Daryl. Alexandria Era. Sex.

A/N: Inspired by an excellent post by @love-norman which I'll link in the comments. I wasn't sure if you were okay with smut, so there's a fairly brief mention of sex but nothing overly explicit.

-

He’s a surprisingly effective communicator, once she can convince him to talk more and with enough time to work out exactly what ticks and grunts mean what. Daryl Dixon’s entire bag is self-sacrifice, so if he can assume that she needs him to tell her what’s going on in the always too busy head of his, he can do that for her without much care for how it impacts him. It’s not his most healthy coping mechanism but it certainly isn’t his worst and the reward? Oh, the reward is sweet. The reward is comfort and kindness and being held; being loved. What’s a moment of discomfort for a lifetime of her?

He's had to practice letting his walls down, slowly but surely since he met her, all the while failing to realise she was just digging her way underneath them. She didn’t ever pry, not really, not in any way that felt invasive, but she’d patiently wait him out; ask the question quietly, softly, and let him linger in the comfortable silence until he chose to answer back. Sometimes she’d work out the information without his need to speak at all; it happened the moment he realised he was fucked, that he was absolutely, irrefutably hers. She’d worked out exactly who he was as a person and he’d barely sad a word.

He’s attentive, and whilst that shocks him it comes as no surprise to anyone around him. He has spent his life fearing that he is exactly who he feared, but those who are lucky enough to consider themselves, correctly or not, close to Daryl never fear for much but his wellbeing. That he is a careful, thoughtful and tender partner surprises nobody but him. That’s not to say they don’t argue, the end of the world comes with its own set of tensions even without the usual relationship concerns, but he’s learnt not to bite first.

-

He shouldn’t have drunk anything, in hindsight, they’re both in bad shape, overwrought and under-fed and they shouldn’t have been at a fucking party, of all places. He definitely shouldn’t have had the four glasses of scotch Reg offered him on a mostly empty stomach. He can’t get used to the Alexandria walls, the houses he never could have afforded to breathe near let alone buy, the soft comforts he’d never had even before the end of the world. He’s never been to a party that hasn’t had a piss-stained couch or an overly full ashtray.

“You know that’s bullshit, Daryl, you’re being ridiculous!” She yells, firmly back in their own living room after he’d practically stormed out of Deanna’s. One minute they’re in full swing, standing talking about vacations from the old days with some new faces, the next his hand is dropping from around her waist and thudding from the front door like she’d said, ‘fuck off’ rather than the word ‘Canada’. He’d slammed the door behind them and snarled about how he would have embarrassed her and her fancy fucking vacations in ‘the real world’.

“Lil’ miss travel abroad and see th’ world cause she’s better than Daryl fuckin’ Dixon”

“What? That’s not-“

“I’m jus’ an idiot redneck with nothin’ an’ you’re this smart chick who saw the world, I get it, I ain’t dumb, th’ fuck would ya have wanted wit’ me?”

Her heart would shatter for him if she wasn’t seething quite so much, the sheer desperation in his words at odds with the tension in his body, clenched hands dragging through his finally clean hair. His eyes are stinging and he absolutely refuses to cry, has never gotten over thinking it makes him weak even when he feels weak.

“Daryl, what the fuck? Why are you being such an asshole?“

“Shut up, always yappin’ about stupid shit, fuckin’ hate ya sometimes!”

He turns quickly, wants to throw something, wants to scream, broad shoulders and harsh angles and all the wind leaves his body when he sees her flinch away from him. She’s cowers backwards, he feels like he’s going to be sick, body collapsing in on itself as he feels the anger leave his bones, replaced with ice laced panic. For a second, a horrifying second that feels ten times as long, he’s his old man. Shitfaced and angry with a glass in hand and if he had a mirror, he knows exactly whose face he’d see staring back at him.

“I would never hurt ya” he whispers, voice low and so broken, full of conviction as his breath hitches in the middle and crumbles at the end and she’d hug him if she wasn’t so shell shocked. Neither of them move for a beat, standing stock still as he trails his eyes over her, clocks the way her gaze refuses to lift to meet his. He can’t breathe. The room is too small for everything he’s feeling, like the walls are inching close and closer and the air is getting less. He tries to move like lightning but his whole body feels sluggish and slow as he inches past her and out the front door, flinching as it closes behind him and he wanders out into the street. He stares back at the house for a moment before deciding he needs a walk to clear his head.

When he comes back she’s sitting on the couch waiting for him, thumbs twiddling, head still down and worry eating her alive. He eases the door shut behind him, loud enough to tell her he’s home but soft enough to show he’s not mad. He wishes a door could convey remorse but it’s taken him long enough to be able to do it with words he doubts a block of wood would be able to in the timeframe he needs. He shucks off his boots, realising he shouldn’t have been wearing them in the house in the first place.

The fresh air has cooled his body enough that he feels less of the alcohol circulating around his system. He tries not to squeeze the flowers he’d plucked from the bush outside Aaron’s place as he stands with his back against the wood.

“’M sorry” he whispers before clearing his throat and repeating it at a higher volume. She turns her face towards him, looking at him over her shoulder. The anger is gone from her face, replaced with a dwelling worry that spikes at him, makes him replay his words over and over.

“What did I do?”

“Nothin’” he insists quickly, pauses before he realises he should say more, that she sometimes needs him to say more, they’ve talked about this “Ya didn’t, I promise”

“I’m sorry”

That does it, rips him from his safe haven by the door because he can’t stand the thought that she deserved anything he said to her, that she’d said anything wrong when he knows she hadn’t. Talking at a party, about stupid old-world stuff whilst her spare, wine glass free hand kept his back warm. She hadn’t said a damn thing wrong, and he’d scared her.

He strides over to the couch, coming round to kneel in front of her. He places the somewhat squashed flowers on the couch cushion next to her. He hovers a hand above her knee, placing it gently on the fabric of her dress when she doesn’t flinch away at the sight. He doesn’t want her to flinch ever again.

“Dun’ apologise to me when ya ain’t done nothin’ wrong”

“I’m so-“

“Dun’ ever apologise to me when i’s my fault. ‘S my shit an’ I shouldn’t take it out on ya”

She knows he loves her, has proven it time and time again, has put his body in front of hers in the face of almost certain death, would protect her with his last breath, would love her with it. But she knows she’ll never be able to unhear it, that some things you can’t take back, that she’ll always wonder, just a little bit if its true. Logic and love are very rarely intertwined.

“Okay”

He can still hear his fathers words ringing in his head, he knows, more than most, the power that words hold over people. He tries not to say anything he doesn’t mean, and he’ll admit he’s acerbic, pointed sure but never cruel, never unnecessarily unkind. He doesn’t know why tonight was different, but he takes her hands in his, locking his eyes on her so she understands.

“I dun’ get t’ speak t’ ya like that”

“No, you don’t” she agrees, voice firmer, back to her usual tone, the one he’s always loved going hand in hand with the certainty she can hold her own. She pauses, bringing his hands up to press a kiss to his knuckles, soothing because she’s terrified that after all this time, he’s still going to break them by thinking he’s not allowed to claim his hurt “You alright?”

He doesn’t answer, instead sitting back on his feet, raising a small hopeful smile at her.

“Tell me about th’ vacation”

“I don’t-“

“Please. Ya said ya still think ‘bout Canada all th’ time”

He really does want to know, he hadn’t been outside of Georgia before everything went down, and she’s mentioned travel but Canada hadn’t come up; he’s not sure if it was that, that set him off or that he felt inadequate in a room full of people with experiences he never got to have.

“I think it was my favourite trip. Packed a bag and went alone on a whim, found a lake in the forest with a little cabin. Just mountains and trees and lakes. It’s the most peaceful I’ve ever felt. I never wanted to mention it, I know you missed out on so much, but then everyone was talking and I-“

“Nah, go on, ‘S’alright”

“When Reg asked…I was going to say that’s what I picture, when I think of life outside of all of this, me and you in Canada”

“Ya think of that with me?” his voice is low, incredulous awe pulled tight at the edges, he was so busy feeling less than everyone else that he’d missed out on the fact she was thinking of him. She nods, smiling at him, working it out without him needing to say it, figuring out what drove him to snap without asking, under his walls and right in the centre of the internal world he’s built.

“We’d have a house, out near a lake with a wooden porch, and a dog, big scruffy one who likes to catch fish. We’d have coffee together overlooking the water in the morning. You’d work at the local garage, ‘cause you’re good with your hands and tools, wouldn’t have to deal with people all day, fix up all the bikes you’d secretly want...”

He’s staring her at in silence, watching her wistful face glow in the lamplight, he can barely breathe let alone find words knowing that she’s not just dreamt about a life with him, she’s thought it out in detail. He wants it, wants that life with her so badly it aches, thinks it’s the first time he’s wanted anything from life except to get through it.

“I’d work at the bar, play guitar at crappy open mic nights and you’d come for a beer after my shift to walk me home”

He hums, all the response he can manage, guilt chewing at him from the inside, clawing at his mind knowing that he’s taken his own problems out on her, told her he hates her all the while she’s dreaming of something so utterly fucking perfect.

“We’d make dinner together and dance in the living room, go camping at the weekends and make love all night long”

“In another life?” he chuckles, warm and full, knowing he’ll dream about this for the rest of his life.

“In every life…If you’d find me”

“I’d find ya”

-

He runs her a bubble bath, still amazed and confused that he can, that they’ve spent months on the road starving and struggling and here there’s a pantry that has bubble bath. The flowers from Aarons front garden are perched in a glass of water by the bed, the lamps turned off and the doors are locked up as tight as they can be. He’s insistent that he shows his apology, but he’s never had a way to do it outside these walls, nothing beyond words and affection and his experience with what women might like is limited at best.

He stands in the doorway, watching as she wraps herself in a dressing gown. He wonders idly if the amount of love he feels for her could kill him; he feels it so deeply in his bones that he physically isn’t sure it should be able to fit inside of one person. He feels it explode warmth around his body when she shuffles forward to rest her head on his chest.

“You know you don’t have to do all of this? I’m not mad”

Later, when he’s apologised again, reassured her and comforted her and she’s convinced him he’s worth loving in return, he takes them both to bed. Touches her with soft, repentant hands that have always been gentle, hands that are gentle exactly because he knows how dangerous they can be. Atonement seeping from every inch of him as he inches home inside of her, cherishes the contended sigh she lets out at the feel of him. He could never hate her, not even if he tried.

He stills when he bottoms out, rests his forehead against hers as her hips press against his firmly, dragging him as deep as he can go.

“Wha’ ya see in me, anyway?” he whispers against her lips, full of self-doubt.

She looks into him with an intensity that almost hurts, brings her hands to the sides of his face, makes sure he believes her as sincerely as she believes his apology.

“Everything”

[greeniegaes]

Thinking about Omega SQQ again sigh

Okay. So warning this is a male lactation AU so if you don’t like that don’t read, nothing explicit happens tho, just a guy and his pups

I imagine when he first goes into his body everything feels like he’s in haywire, constantly on edge and ready for a fight. Once he’s gotten the hang of things he uses his cultivation to try and simmer down his hormones.

Only to realize it was his cultivation preventing hormones that was making him feel like shit all the time.

So eventually he sighs and stops doing that. The first few days are bad, cramps and sickness and a general feeling of wanting to claw everyone’s eyes out. He gets through that though.

Then his breasts start to come in.

He knew PIDW has its weirder parts of omegaverse so he knew that this would happen. At first he starts binding his chest but that hurts SO SO SO much that he collapses on like the third day (he was also doing it improperly because it’s him, yk) and gets stuffed into Qian Cao

MQF: I was not aware shixiong was an omega

SQQ: I’ve only recently decided to stop holding myself back

MQF: it is recommended that you form a small pack of your disciples to help with your instincts and… that *waving at SQQs chest.*

SQQ: *screams internally.* Okay :)

At this point after like a week of just draining himself and going insane he finally gives up. LBH has already started living in the bamboo hut so he’s kinda the best option so he sits the boy down.

SQQ: Binghe, I hope you know this isn’t going to change anything but

LBH, thinking: oh my god no please don’t kick me out

SQQ: since this master has allowed his omega side back out he’s been struggling with his urges about thinking of his disciples like pups. If it’s not an offense to your character can I take some of it out on you

LBH, internally: YES YES YES PLEASE OH GOD YES I NEED IT

LBH, externally: If that would please shizun then sure :]

So they start a twice daily thing of in the morning and night LBH goes into SQQs room and his nest and gets feed. Apparently milk is hella good for the skin and shit because after a few weeks he starts to look flawless somehow.

And SQQ really wants to see his other kids- DISCIPLES flourish like that. He extends the offer to a close few and some look like they going to cry at the honor of their teacher wanting to take care of them.

LBH is still the main drinker and always wants to huff when he has to share, but he does it none the less. His Shizun gets really cute during feeding sessions, purring and chirping at them, fixing their hair and playing with it, scratching their scalp, the whole nine yards.

So LBH repays it by feeding SQQ more, which also makes him have more milk in turn. He huffs and complains at his body’s need to produce so much, his chest wayyy too heavy in the middle of the day to be comfortable, leaking and wasting everything.

He ignored that though, even if LBH and his other pups- disciples offer to help him.

Eventually after the Abyss his body is still making big amounts of milk because that’s what it was used to. Most of the time he just gets it out himself and pours it into the grass, often now also starting his other feedings.

Everything starts to get to him and he’s decided that staying on the mountain is no good. So he sneaks out, by himself, in search of something to heal his heart.

All the peak lords and disciples are going crazy, nobody can find him and nobody knows where he could’ve gone. Eventually while LQG is talking to a random villager out in a border town of their territory he sees SQQ again, arms filled with two pudgy babies and looking ever so pleased.

SQQ: Oh! Hi Shidi

SQQ internally: OH FUCK I FORGOT ABOUT THE SECT

LQG: where have you been???

SQQ: sorry sorry babies are hard work I didn’t want to travel alone with them

LQG, wanting to have an aneurysm but can’t: let me just help you home

On one hand the entire sect is so relieved that SQQ didn’t die of heartbreak over losing his favorite pup or get kidnapped. On the other hand SQQ??? Where’d you’d acquire those babies?? They aren’t yours, it’s only been 6 months!!

Anyways after SQQ is safely back in the sect he doesn’t see a point in leaving. I mean! Look! Look at his pups! So cute and round! One of them has little dimples!

The other peak lords carefully go to see what was going on, YQY opening the door to the bamboo house after being told to come in and all of them are just smacked with happy omega pheromones, SQQ gently cradling them both in his arms as he rocks in a chair.

At that point all of the peak lords decide that yk, maybe it doesn’t matter how the children were acquired. They were well feed and cared for and obviously SQQ was happy again.

(He got the children from a working in the WRP, she had wanted babies and all her sisters were supportive but then she realized she didn’t like being a parent but you also can’t morally just… dispose of a child. SQQ visited there once in his depression stoop and stayed for a few days after falling in love with the kiddos. Then he just went on an adventure with his babies and got distracted by the cool world building.)

[illwilledomen]

I recently became VERY interested in your Minecraft stuff, and I'd like to ask a question... In one of drawings, an illager tells Steve that "We can cheat death too," does this imply that the players CAN actually respawn just like how we can in Minecraft and if they can respawn how does it work?? And how do the villagers react to Steve just respawning?

Yes, they can!

Since you’ve been looking through my stuff you probably already know that players in Abiogenesis are constructs. While I sometimes call them robots, they are technically more like golems and whatnot, which are powered by magic, except far more advanced. The little metal port above a player’s heart is their soul core, and that is, you guessed it, where their soul lives, and what gives them life and sapience. Players can regenerate flesh on their body that has been lost or sustained damage in an injury. If the damage is so severe (or done to a specific vulnerable area like the neck or stomach, aka something that would be fatal) the player “dies” temporarily so it’s body can devote all it’s energy into repairing itself.

How does this work?

Well, their soul core sends the soul into stasis. It is temporarily phased out of the corporeal realm. In the Abiogenesis/Minecraft world, when anything living dies, its soul phases into a non-corporeal dimension called the Otherside and releases magical energy in the form of Experience. This occurs with players, however, what allows them to return is the fact the soul does not travel onward. It is tethered to the port, and only temporarily stays in the O.S. Eventually, once the body is fit to return to, the soul makes its way back into the port, and the player is alive again. These periods of “death” usually last 24 hours, though severe structural damage can render them dead for up to a week. They will not respawn in their last place of rest like in-game, wherever their body lies will be where they awaken.

Players lose a small amount of Experience when they die, and will wake up delirious and faint, with minor memory loss. Sort of a “death hangover”. They will also be ravenously hungry, as their bodies need to regenerate the calories lost from fixing their body. They also may experience trauma symptoms from the cause of death (e.g, death by fire makes them frightened of a campfire or a fireplace) though these will eventually subside.

Players can be killed permanently. Netherite is strong enough to destroy the soul core, as is extreme heat (im talking instantly vaporized levels of heat) and the Void. The Void obliterates all corporeal matter that is not voidborn upon contact, so a player falling into it will straight up cease to exist. There would be no afterlife in the Otherside, just Nothing — complete oblivion.

Villagers would be freaked the hell out for starters. Steve isn’t fully aware he isn’t a biological person (he suspects it, but he’s sort of in denial), all he would know is that he feels sick and there’s a huge chunk of time missing. Since the village steve lives in knows Steve and trusts him, they would not necessarily take it as a bad omen. They would likely hold a village meeting about it and try to make sense of the whole shabang. Reinard had a religious vision regarding the Hosts shortly before he adopted Steve, so he already believes deep down that Steve is, in some way, blessed by the hosts. This, alongside Steve’s other player-y quirks, would solidify that in his mind.

[ceilidho]

fear of god

prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 3 masterlist

-

You don’t know exactly what you’re waiting for, but it doesn’t happen.

The man doesn’t appear again. No one knocks on any windows or appears on any scans though you run another one not twelve hours later. It’s not enough to convince you that it was all in your head, but it’s enough for you to start the process of putting it out of mind. 

You just can’t shake the unease following you, a shadow extending out from your feet. Your skin feels tight against your face, clinging to the muscle and bone; months under artificial light will do that to a person, sap them of something essential that can’t be replenished with just vitamins capsules and supplement injections. The human body isn’t meant for space travel. It longs for the sun and the earth under its feet. 

And now you have something new to worry about. 

Much to your relief, Hadir doesn’t bring up your earlier encounter at dinner. Though part of you wonders whether he mentioned it to anyone else, he doesn’t outwardly treat you any differently. Amiable as ever. It goes a long way towards assuring you that he must have put your earlier encounter out of his mind already. You should too. 

It’s just that—

You’re the person the crew goes to when they need fixing. Abrasions, lesions, migraines, broken bones, aches and pains. Though your training is in emergency medicine and space physiology, years of clinical rotations and field research have equipped you with an extensive medical background. Not the least of which includes psychological and neurological health. You’re the de facto psychologist on board should any of the crew suffer a mental health crisis.

And if there’s something wrong with you, who’s going to fix it?

You sit with that thought for entirely too long, but then one day passes into the next and nothing happens. When you look out the window, you only see the throughline of the universe, its heart tipped over and the milk spilling out. The ambient light in the station keeps you from seeing it as clearly as you’d like, but it’s there when you look out the window, ever-present. 

Still, you can’t help thinking about an astronaut somewhere out there, slipping into the darkness like a cold lake dragging a body down into its depths and holding it tight to its breast. 

You shake off the thought. Scrub a hand down your face. 

When your stomach rumbles, you ping the crew to let them know you won’t be in the medbay should they need you and head out to grab a bite to eat. Nikolai is already eating at the counter in the galley when you come in to make yourself supper. 

No crew dinner tonight. Though you eat together for the most part, there are days where work tasks keep everyone’s schedules from lining up. You know from the morning briefing that Alex and Graves will be busy until well into the evening working on celestial navigation and dead reckoning.

He looks up from where he stands hunched over the steel tray of food in front of him, a mix of rehydrated rajma, rice, and raita, and waves his fork in a silent greeting. 

“Is that what’s on the menu tonight?” you ask.

The big man nods, pointing towards the pantry with his fork. “New week. No more Hamburger Helper,” he says with no small amount of derision towards the aforementioned meal. 

You smile. “Looks good.”

Though the new ownership thankfully didn’t skimp on food rations, most of the crew’s daily meals were determined months ago, long before the ship’s departure back on Earth. There’s a laminated week by week menu tucked away at the back of the pantry listing each day’s repast from departure until arrival, but you haven’t given it so much as a glance since you boarded. Better to have something to look forward to every day. 

The food packet from the pantry goes into the rehydrator for the requisite amount of time and then into the crisper to add the texture back to it. Space food is never quite as satisfying as the food back on Earth, but you’ve grown fond of it in recent years, even enough to crave it back home. No matter the dish, you can always taste the faint peppery, slightly bitter undertaste, like fresh watercress. 

You’d been planning on eating by yourself back in your quarters or at a table in the mess, but you feel weird just leaving Nikolai to his own devices after exchanging a few pleasant words, so you join him at the island counter. 

“Did you have a lot on your plate today?”

“My plate?” Nikolai asks, looking down at his food. “Нет, not so much—I had big lunch at around four o’clock.”

You bite your lip to suppress your smile. “No, I meant, did you have a lot of work?”

“Ah, why didn’t you just say that? Yes, lots done today, lots more to do tomorrow. Farah and I are still working on finding the root cause for the issue with the cruise control.”

“It’s a tricky fix?”

“Yes. Complex,” he grunts, talking around the food in his mouth. After weeks of eating with him and longer working around cut open bodies and exposed organs, you’ve long learned to suppress any sign of disgust on your face. “The pilot augmentation system isn’t controlled by this ship’s AI, so it’s not an easy software fix. We thought it was component degradation from the asteroid the other day at first, but Farah had a look at it today and all seems good, so not so sure now. Maybe gyroscope malfunction. Maybe GPS receiver is having issues. Hard to say. Lots of work still to do.”

You nod as if you understand. Most of it goes over your head apart from the obvious frustration in his voice. 

“Would be easier problem to fix if we had specialist, but—” Nikolai shrugs, a rueful look on his face “—little budget, small crew. Better we have doctor for wrist sprain than specialist to fix pilot augmentation system.”

Though his tone isn’t necessarily bitter, you can’t help but prickle at the light sarcasm. Your impulse is to go on the defense. It isn’t your fault medics are mandatory. Certainly not your fault that the original twelve crew member allowance was slashed to only six. 

“Farah and you make a good team,” you say instead, ever the diplomat. Magnanimous despite the way your teeth ache in your gums. 

“Smart girl, that one. Would clone her if I could.”

His praise makes you look away only because you wish it could be aimed at you. You crave it these days. Not necessarily from Nikolai, but from anyone. The downside of these longhaul missions is that you go months without interacting with family or friends; it’s why space crews bond so strongly with one another, the only reprieve from the claustrophobic sense of isolation out in space. It’s also why you’ve felt as lonely as you have these past few months, emotionally out of sync with this crew. 

“Let me know if there’s any way I can out,” you offer as he finishes up the last of his supper, putting his tray away into the dishwasher.

Nikolai nods. Hums. “Could do with another pair of hands.”

You smile, relieved.

He starts heading towards the door, throwing a hand up behind him to wave goodbye. “Will let you know when I find some way you can be useful.”

The smile slips off your face. The doors slide shut behind him, silence filling the room. 

You don’t have it in you to eat much more. Most of your meal goes straight into the compost, along with the empty packet, and then you leave the galley as well. The last couple of hours of your day are spent sitting aimlessly at your desk in the medical unit until it’s time to head back to your quarters to shower and sleep. 

And then to bed you go. 

In the middle of the night—though the meaning of ‘night’ seems boundless out in space, like a word without a cognate—a deep sense of unease throbs in your chest. 

Sleep sloughs off you gradually and then all at once. One minute you’re twisting in the web of a nightmare and the next, your eyes are open, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. 

You sit up in bed with the dull ache in your chest growing worse. The duvet slips off you and piles around your waist, the sheets under you damp with sweat. It hurts like heartburn. 

It’s too early for breakfast and you don’t have to pee. You’re not entirely sure what woke you up actually, your last dream already fading away, the threads of it unraveling when you reach out to try and pull it back in. It’s too far away to recall any of it. Propping yourself up on one arm, you twist to the side, hoping to let the sight of the stars guide you back to sleep. 

Out of your window, like a lone buoy in the middle of the ocean, an astronaut floats in the middle of space. 

For a moment, it doesn’t register. Likely just a dream that you haven’t woken up from yet. It’s remarkably vivid for a dream though. Your room is a cool dark blue, the band of dim artificial lights encircling the window beside your cot giving your quarters the distinct feel of a night back home on Earth. It’s only when you pinch your bare thigh and wince from the sharp, accompanying sting that you grasp that you’re awake. 

You are awake and there is a man floating away from the ship. 

The light from the ship glints off his suit, illuminating the shape of him. You stare out at him with increasing concern and dread. Not consciously grasping the gravity of the situation, but aware that you need to do something. He’s farther away this time, so distant that though his white spacesuit is stark against the dark field behind him, the visor of his helmet is impenetrable. Dark as obsidian. 

He drifts aimlessly in space, his body so still that you wonder if he’s even alive. With a jolt, you wonder if, in your haste to find help the other day, he did run out of oxygen and simply floated away. Occam's razor. You did not imagine a man speaking to you from outside the ship only for him to vanish from existence; he simply passed out while you were gone and drifted off before you could save him. 

“Oh shit,” you hiss, scrambling out of bed, nearly getting tangled in your sheets on the way out. You don’t even bother changing into more appropriate clothes, slamming the button to your door and squeezing through the gap between the door and the wall as soon as it opens for you. 

The corridor outside your room runs from stern to bridge, and is dimly lit at this time of night. The ship oscillates through Earth-tethered day and night cycles, the lights only at their brightest at a certain point aligning with morning back on Earth to simulate the distant sun. A slight chill to the air as well, to mirror night. Artificial photic and nonphotic zeitgebers to ensure the body maintains its circadian rhythm. Necessary to prevent sleep deprivation and keep the crew from going mad.

Now though, it makes you feel prey-like. Small. Darting from your room to the cockpit like a mouse scurrying across the savanna under the cloak of darkness and moonlight. 

Your bare feet smack against the metal floor as you run, the sound following you down the main corridor towards the cockpit. You pass another porthole but don’t bother glancing out of it, too intent on reaching the main viewing deck. You’ve got to—

Get the body help him save him I’m so sorry I left you out there—

Alex and Graves’s heads snap up as you barge into the cockpit panting and drenched in sweat. You don’t bother to explain yourself, heading straight for the flight deck window instead and leaning over the dashboard. The edge of the panel digs into your pelvis as you lean into the window. 

You crane your neck to look left and right, scanning as far as your eye can see. The astronaut you saw off in the distance from your bedroom window is gone. Only stars and dust shine from lightyears away. 

It doesn’t make sense. You saw him with your own two eyes drifting out there. You couldn’t have mistook him for anything else—not with the shape of his body, the helmet obelisk black. But there’s nothing out there. Nothing at all. 

“Doctor?” Alex asks tentatively from behind you, standing up from his chair. 

When you glance over your shoulder at him, wide-eyed, reality finally begins to seep back into you. The two of them stare at you from the other side of the cockpit, their concern and wariness evident in the tension in their shoulders. 

“Um—sorry. I…”

You don’t really know what to say. There’s no excuse that seems appropriate, no way of explaining the state of you, panicked and out of breath. For all intents and purposes, it’s the middle of the night. No reason for you to be out of your quarters and so disheveled. Panting like something chased you out of bed. 

You wonder what they would see if they cut you open; if they’d find your intercostal muscles bruised from the heavy beat of your heart. 

“Somethin’ you wanna share with us, doctor?” Graves asks. His tone is far less charitable, verging on suspicious.  

You swallow on a dry throat. “No, I’m—…it was nothing. I just…I had a bad dream.”

From the way they look at you, you can tell that neither of them believe you. It's flimsy, as far as excuses go. But there’s little else they can do but take you at your word. The rules are different out here, more tolerated than back on Earth. Everyone goes a little stir crazy; you just have to know how to manage it. 

“I should go back to my room,” you whisper when neither says anything. 

You move towards the door on cautious feet, suddenly aware of how cold it is in the cockpit. Goosebumps ripple down your arms and legs, nipples beading under your shirt. Alex politely averts his eyes when he notices. If you were less distressed, you’d be humiliated. 

“Get some sleep,” Graves says, eyes following you until the doors close behind you. 

You walk back to your quarters slowly, pausing to glance out one of the portholes just to confirm that you haven’t made a huge mistake. 

A minute or an hour goes by. You see nothing out in the distance.

Back in your room, you shut off the automatic light that comes on when you enter and collapse into bed. You avoid looking out the window for your own sanity, instead turning over onto your side. Wide awake now. Nothing to do but wait for sleep to sneak up on you again, if you haven’t scared it off entirely. All you can do is think about the look on Alex and Graves’ faces and cringe, pulling the blanket up over your head. 

Sleep almost finds you again when something knocks twice on the wall beside your head. 

Your breath catches in your throat. Fear scuttles across the floor beneath your bed. Just don’t look. Don’t look at it. You squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for it to go away. 

Whatever it is knocks again. The window this time. 

It takes an age to work up the nerve to roll back over. When you look up at the window, a face stares back at you, so close now that you can make out dimples and thick lips turned up at the corners. A close-shaved beard.

He smiles down at you, heedless of the horrified look on your face. “Hello again, love. Care to let me in now?”

[hihhasotherfixations]

Relight the fire - King! Price x Princess! Reader | NSFW

Synopsis: Growing up in the neighbouring kingdom, you and Price go a long way back, practically growing up together. From rambunctious kids who play together, to teenagers exploring each other. Now, a decade later, you finally reunite after your parents proposed an arranged marriage to the now king. His memory of you however is still coloured and he intends to relive it.

CW: fem! reader, arranged marriage, p in v, yearning, lots of kisses, sort of a quickie?

Word Count: 5499

Sitting in the carriage, your eyes were cast out at the roads passing by. Familiar but oh so foreign streets rolled across your view. Streets you remember running down, yet had changed so much in the last decade.

It had been a while since you’d last visited the kingdom of Onferon. When was the last time again? Glancing to the right, you saw your mother – the queen – seated beside her husband. They were the reason you were last here too. You must have been a teenager when you last travelled here, accompanying your parents for business. Or was it a young adult? You don’t remember. Either way, at least ten years must have passed at this point.

“It’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

Your father’s voice pulled you out of your reminiscing and you looked over at him, a questioning look on your face that made him smile gently.

“We’ve had communications with king Price. He’s eager to see you again.”

Right. King. It seemed so long ago now that the two of you were running around through the streets, evading the guards who were desperately chasing you, trying to keep an eye on you for a safety neither of you cared about. But now, that boy you knew was a king.

Knowing your father was waiting for an answer, you replied. “As I am him.” You spoke back, though the neutrality in your tone betrayed some of your inner thoughts. A lot of time passed. You weren’t getting any younger, neither was he. Which is why – to your brother’s dismay – you were here today.

An arranged marriage. Proposed and set up by your parents. With your history, they hoped that John Price would accept, strengthening your own kingdom in the process.

Not that you blamed your parents. What was needed was needed. With your brother in line for the throne, you knew there was only one way for you to go as princess.

Just then, the carriage passed through the gates onto the castle grounds, cobbled streets making way for lush green gardens and hedges.

“I don’t like this.” Your brother then murmured, much to the dismay of your parents.

“Hush now. Your sour attitude will compromise this all. The marriage isn’t finalised. King Price refused to do so until he saw her again.” Your mother motioned her hand at you, making your brother huff and cross his arms like a petulant child. “Behave.” She scolded – without effect.

Hearing her chastise him, your brother just grumbled and you playfully kicked his shin, making him hiss in pain before glaring at you.

Sitting up to retaliate, he was stopped by your father saying a stern “Enough!”.

Calming, both of you relaxed in your seats right as the carriage came to a stop.

With the doors opening, your mother shuffled close while the men got up to step out, her hands tenderly running over your dress, fixing a fold and tucking a hair back in place on your head.

“Remember.” She spoke softly. “Chin up, be calm, be good. It’ll be your actions who decide whether this arrangement happens or not. Answer his questions as truthful as is necessary.” With that, she smiled softly, her gloved hand gently rubbing your cheek before she too got out.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled your own gloves a little tighter up your arms before you got up from the seat and stepped out of the carriage, taking your brother’s offered hand to step down, your heals clicking on the stone walkway.

Before you, the castle towered over not just you but the entire kingdom, standing tall and proud. A pillar of the kingdom’s wealth and power. And before its doors, stood John Price.

Once you spotted him, you blinked once, your eyes shifting over his attire. A simple dark blue doublet with intricate embroidery – simple upon first glance yet hinting at wealth up close. Slowly, your gaze rose up to his face, his young visage now more weary with age, not to mention covered in intricately carved facial hair.

It took a moment too long for your eyes to look at his, finding that they’d been focused on you all along. Realising, you straightened up a little, following your parents upon their approach.

“Welcome, your majesties.” Price greeted, politely bowing his head, to which your family returned the greeting in kind, your head bowing as you sunk through your knees a bit. “Please come in, festivities have been arranged.” Price stepped aside then, the guards around you motioning you up.

Your parents were first to go, your brother and you following up the steps. There, Price led the way, walking through intricate halls and bustling staff as they ran around. Some stopped by him as he walked, hearing them out before quietly responding and sending them on their way, resuming the silent tour after.

“Your luggage is being arranged. You shall find it in your quarters.” Price smiles kindly after a moment, pausing in front of a set of double doors. As he smiled, his eyes crinkled, the corners of his mouth pulling his beard up with them, almost lighting up his face – an expression almost designed to draw you in.

You’d seen it plenty of times before. Though he seemed to have lost the cocky attitude he had before, that permanent smirk replaced with a genuine kindness that surprised you.

“Thank you.” Your father spoke and Price nodded, motioning them to pass through the doors as they were pulled open by guards.

“Many have arrived before you. Please feel free to enjoy yourselves for now. Dinner shall begin shortly.” Price spoke courteously before his eyes shifted to you. “I would like to invite you and your children to be seated by me when the time comes.”

“We would be happy to accept.” Your mother smiled and you silently took a deep breath in, feeling the man’s eyes focused on you, your hands neatly clasped at your middle, resting by your stomach.

“Sister.” Your brother then took your arm, narrowing his eyes at Price as he urged you past, the king just smiling to himself as he followed behind, being the last through the doors.

Inside, the ballroom was packed with nobility from all over the land, eating, drinking, dancing.

Quickly, your mother and father dispersed, going to mingle with the crowd. When your brother didn’t seem to move, your mother stepped back and grabbed his arm, yanking him away from you and along with her with an apologetic smile.

It wasn’t until king Price stepped up beside you on the left that you realised why. He’d been waiting to speak with you alone.

Looking over, you noticed his eyes flick upwards a second too late, his gaze now settling on your face. “Your highness.” He greets with a small smile, your fingers fidgeting slightly as the pressure placed on your shoulders mounts higher.

“Your majesty.” You greeted back, much more formal than his greeting was, even when you both used official titles. A detail that didn’t escape the man, his head tilting a little.

“It has been a while since we last spoke. You have aged beautifully.” Price started, turning to fully face you, his eyes now freely roaming down, appraising you sweetly.

“Indeed it has, and thank you. You too have changed much.” You spoke back, trying to put an easy smile on your face though it was a bit tense.

Seeing it, Price reached out, gently grabbing your gloved hand, pulling it up to press a soft kiss to the back of it, his eyes never straying from yours. “For the better, I hope?” He teased softly, his lips moving against the fabric of your glove before he pulled back a bit, still holding your hand. “Why so nervous, my princess?” He asked after a moment, stepping closer, looking down at you with gentle eyes, intelligent and perceptive.

“My apologies.” You stated softly, taking a soft breath in to try and settle the pressing feeling in your chest. Being nervous wasn’t going to convince him to accept the marriage.

Watching you take the breath, Price’s eyes softened a little, glancing around to see the busy ballroom, his head then turning back to you. “What say you we find a place less… crowded, where we can talk?”

You frowned a little at that. “But what of dinner?”

“Dinner won’t be for a while yet. We have time and they will wait.” He stated, his free hand sweeping out to guide your gaze to a door leading out of the ballroom. A gesture to follow.

“I-” You started, glancing back into the room, seeing people’s eyes on you. There was a general knowledge of what was going on, what could happen. And it didn’t help your nervousness. “I’d hate to make people wait.” You eventually murmured, making Price chuckle softly, his hand squeezing yours.

“Still the worrier you always have been.” He smiled. “The dinner is still being prepared. Half an hour extra on the slow roast won’t ruin it. Might even improve it.” He joked before turning to fully face you again, using his free hand to grab your other one, now holding both as he looked right into your eyes. “Besides, would it not be nice to announce the decision I’ve come to during dinner?” He asked with a little smile, a playful gleam in his eye as he squeezed your hands before turning to the side again, once more holding out his hand, waiting for you to accept his invitation and follow him.

Letting out a shaky breath, you nod and Price smiled, holding you tighter as he led you out of the side door into a long hallway.

“You really haven’t changed at all. Only got more beautiful.” The man murmured, looking forward as he walked.

His comment had your heart clenching a little, your heels padding along the carpet, your eyes on the back of his head. “How do you mean?”

At that, he turned to look back at you with a small grin. “I remember leading you like this before. You were oh so worried to make your parents wait. Or that other time where you didn’t want to cause trouble for the guards for losing us. Just like you’re now worrying about the guests.” He hummed, your heart starting to speed up as he so easily seemed to remember you and the past.

“That was-”

“Always for the same thing.” He interrupted you, taking a turn and leading you up a set of stairs, his arms moving behind his back to pass your hand from his right to his left. “A worry for others to hide your own nerves.”

That had you pause, your steps slowing and – sensing you were no longer following so easy – Price slowed, looking back at you.

“I-”

“Sweetheart.” His quiet voice made you look up, seeing him step down the stairs to be level with you before cupping your face. “Don’t worry, alright? It’ll be like old times. Just you and me.” He hummed lowly, a glint in his eyes as he brought your hand up and kissed the back of it again. “Be a good girl and follow, hm?”

Walking backwards up the stairs a few steps, Price led the way as you followed, a little dazed. Seeing you were, Price then pulled you a little closer once you reached the top of the staircase, his hand snaking around your waist.

Leading you down the hall, he turned left to a set of double doors, opening one and helping you step inside.

Immediately, nostalgia and memories hit, memories that made your cheeks slightly heat up as you surveyed his bedroom. It had matured, just like him. But the layout remained the same.

“Come here, love.” Price spoke, his hand around your waist shifting to your hip after locking the doors, pushing you back until you gently hit a sofa, sitting down while a fire roared in the fireplace.

Having you seated, he sat down beside you, letting out a relieved little breath as he opened the clasp by his neck, shaking out his hair a little. “There.” He grunted, getting comfortable as he sat back, his legs splaying out somewhat.

Looking over at him, you straightened up a little, clasping your hands together in your lap, knowing the talk that was coming.

Seeing it, Price chuckled softly, reaching out to pick up your hand, his fingers tracing the glove up your arm until he hooked into the edge of the fabric that rested past your elbow.

“You’re so tense, hm? Dressed all proper for today to make an impression.” His voice dropped to a lower frequency as he talked, his eyes reflecting the firelight as they followed the path of his finger.

Slowly, he shifted closer, his leg moving to sit against yours as he slowly started to push the fabric of the glove down your elbow, revealing more of your skin.

“Uh-” grasping the fabric, you looked at the man, feeling your cheeks heat up a little.

“The fire is lit and we’re eating after this. Surely these aren’t needed anymore?” Price asked, a faux kind of innocence accompanying his statement. When he felt your hold slack, he carefully pulled the glove down your arm, taking it off and humming softly as he grabbed your now bare hand. “Much better.” He murmured, bringing your hand up and gently kissing the back of it, causing you to feel the course hair of his beard gently rub against your skin.

Feeling it, a strange sort of nervousness swirled through your stomach, butterflies flitting about as you felt the hairs lift off your skin, before he gently turned your hand around, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist in a similar manner, causing your breath to quietly hitch.

“Yes. Much better.” Price concluded with a little smile. Leaning in to reach his arm over, he took off your other glove as well, laying them over the back of the couch. “It has been too long since we’ve been like this, sweetheart.” He spoke softly, his eyes slowly lifting back up to yours.

“How… How have you been?” You asked, not knowing where else to start.

Seeing it, Price shifted a little, that small smile still tugging at the corner of his lip as he shifted in his seat, leaning back. “I have been quite alright. A lot has happened since I last saw you. But I am happy to say that having you by my side still makes my day better.”

Letting out a relieved little breath, you sat up a bit, turning to him a little, accidentally pressing your legs tighter together, as Price didn’t move an inch – didn’t try to even.

“I must say, I’m surprised you remember me so. We saw each other only sparingly as kids.”

Huffing in amusement, Price leaned forward, his hand suddenly landing on your thigh, rubbing a bit. “Remember? Darling, I haven’t been able to forget you one day. However sparingly we saw each other, I cannot possibly forget our little outings, hm?”

At the mention of that, you felt your face instantly darken in blush, swallowing nervously.

Seeing it, a familiar smirk worked its way onto the brunet’s face, his hand slowly trailing higher up your thigh. Before he could however, you placed your hand over his, clearing your throat.

“Uhm, perhaps we should discuss the- the uhm, marriage.” You spoke, a chuff of amusement leaving the man.

“I see you after all these years and you want to discuss bureaucracy?” He questioned, though he acquiesced, his hold on your thigh loosening.

“We’re not teenagers anymore. There is a certain… etiquette.” You spoke, trying to stay firm, though when he leaned in, his free hand coming up to tilt your chin his way, you felt your jaw flutter in nervousness.

“There was always etiquette.” He murmured softly, his eyes carefully roaming across your face, an admiration in them that had your muscles slacking a little, your eyes turning more innocent upon his unguarded gaze. “Yet I remember as we ran down the garden, shaking guards just to get a moment alone.”

His voice was quiet, raspy as he spoke, his hand moving from your chin down to grasp the one you were using to stop his hand on your thigh. Slowly, as if scared to spook you, he let go of your leg, his hand coming up to slowly brush down your jaw, feeling the soft skin before he cradled the back of your head.

“I remember breaking every rule in the book just to have you under me.” He hummed, leaning close, his breath on your lips with every word he spoke. “Every visit to one another turning into sweaty bodies, every diplomatic outing shifted to be for us. You don’t know how long I’ve waited to feel you again.”

His murmured words had you let out a shaky breath, looking up to see his eyes half-lidded, feeling his hand on the back of your head scratch your scalp a bit.

“But… we can’t. Not until- until it’s all official. We’re grown up. You’re king.” You whispered and Price smiled, leaning his face in before he started to press deep, slow kisses to your neck, savouring every single one.

“My darling. I accepted the offer the moment your parents came with it.” He whispered against your throat, his teeth lightly raking over your skin, careful not to leave a mark.

“You did?”

Smiling, Price pressed a last kiss to your throat before he pulled back to look at you. “You think I’d lose the chance to finally make you mine? I told you back then, didn’t I?

You let out a shaky breath, a flash of a memory playing in your mind. The two of you right here in this room, younger, more stupid. Price – who was just John back then – above you, his hips rapidly moving against yours, your panted breaths mingling as teeth clacked, limbs entangled and innocence lost.

Whispered breaths of his claim. Those exact words falling from his lips back then as they did now. And fuck how you loved it then, treasuring every syllable.

Coming back to, you looked at the man before you. The king before you. Things were different. Both of you were, the circumstances were. And despite the heat you felt in your cheeks, you spoke. “That was- You can’t compare. We were just-”

“Just kids?” Price finished your sentence for you and shook his head. “Maybe to you, but not to me.” He spoke, his voice gaining an edge and you felt a panic rise.

“N-No, of course it wasn’t that to me either!”

“Then why so surprised now? Have you moved on?”

At his question, your eyes widened in shock. “No.”

“Fallen out of love?”

“No!”

“Then why so nervous, my darling?” Price whispered, his free hand snaking around your waist. “I told you I was one day going to make you mine all those years ago. And today is the day.”

Letting out a little breath, you looked up at him, seeing his eyes gaze down at you with practically devotion. To him, you were his morning breeze. The smell of rain. A flickering firelight in the winter.

“My king…” You whispered, unsure, your eyes flickering down.

Returning in kind, Price used the hand on your neck to quickly pull you in as he slanted his lips over yours, pulling you into a kiss that had your hands shoot out to cling to his clothing.

For not a single second did the king hold back, his hand around your waist tightening, pulling you close against himself as he moved his mouth against your own, pulling your head back and leaning further into the kiss.

Even back in your teenage years, John had never known restraint. And now, when he was king Price, he was still just as intense, his tongue practically begging for entrance as he held you close, rolling his body into you as he deepened the kiss, taking only small moments to suck air in before he was right back to kissing you like a man starved, pushing you back into the couch.

Pushing on his chest, you felt his hand go from the back of your head to rest on your throat, his thumb shifting up to push your chin higher as he then pulled back, panting softly, his pupils blown and eyes half-lidded.

“T-The dinner.” You panted softly and Price just smiled, leaning down to nose at your cheek, his lips pressing to the corner of your mouth.

“I’ve already instructed them to wait at least half an hour. We have plenty of time. Would be a shame to waste it with boring mingling, no?” He hummed, pulling back to look into your eyes. “Let me indulge in you, my queen, like I once did.”

Your stomach practically fluttered at his words, your breath coming out shaky as you looked up at him. “I-” You hesitated and Price groaned softly, climbing better onto the couch.

“Please. I’ve waited so long. I need you now, my love.” He whispered into your ear, his voice husky, almost breathless as he took your hand in his, entwining your fingers before bringing it up, kissing at the back of it again, his eyes shifting to yours. “I beg you now…”

His whispered words echoed in your mind, your teeth gently digging into your bottom lip as you weighed your options, feeling his weight pressing into you, heavier than you remember, his physique evolved, just like all of him did.

Waiting for your answer, Price sighed softly, closing his eyes as he pushed his forehead to yours, his hand on your waist squeezing softly.

And then you spoke the freeing words.

“Promise we won’t be late?”

Lifting his head, Price looked down at you, a smile spreading on his face as he gazed at you. “My dear, you will be seated by me at the table on time, even if I have to carry you there.” He assured, leaning into you slowly before kissing you again, your eyes closing this time as you pushed back into it.

Without hesitation, Price’s hands snaked down your body, firmly running over your ass before he got to your thighs where he hiked your legs up, a clear hint to hold on while your dress fell down to your hips.

Once your heels were kicked off and your legs crossed behind his back, Price shifted his hands under you and lifted, breaking the kiss to see where he was going around the couch before pushing you into his plush bed.

Stumbling a little near the end, his groin pushed into yours from how close you were and Price groaned in pleasure while you gasped softly, realising just how needy he really was.

Unbuckling his belt, Price tossed it aside before pushing your dress and petticoat up to your hips, his eyes landing on your delicate underwear, a wet spot forming on the fabric that had his chest heaving.

“Fuck me, darling.” He spoke, his left hand trailing from your knee, down your leg.

It almost tickled, how lightly the tips of his fingers trailed from your stockings down to and over your skin, travelling your inner thigh down until they met the juncture of your hips. There, he bypassed your underwear entirely, slipping two fingers into the waistband, pushing them down and running through your folds.

The clenching of his jaw was almost visible as he suppressed a groan, feeling how slick you were, his fingers trailing through the soft, velvety feeling of your folds, ghosting over your clit before going back down, repeating the path over and over, making your body heat up with every brush.

“John-”

“Sshh.” He soothed softly, his right hand gently gathering your wrists, moving to hold them above your head against a pillow, his face leaning down to start kissing along your exposed sternum, his teeth pulling on the loops holding your dress buttoned around your cleavage, making your breath stutter.

Pinned and at his mercy, you closed your eyes, relaxing your legs and letting them fall a little wider, creating more space for Price, his fingers dipping down, one slipping into you as he hummed. “Good girl…”

Creasing your brows together, you could feel his finger pump inside you, deeper and deeper until he was in to the knuckle, starting to gently thrust in and out, revelling in your wetness, the warmth of your channel.

Different from before, his finger felt so much thicker, though perhaps it was the time passed that warped your perception, having only had your own fingers to do what he once did. What he was doing again now.

Already feeling out of breath, you swallowed nervously as you felt him add a second finger, a strangled moan leaving you at the stretch, paired with his thumb gently laying onto your clit.

Hearing it, Price smiled, knowing he was in the right spot as he carefully started thrusting his fingers, letting that motion dictate the slow move of his thumb on your clit. A slow rock back and forth, more pressure and less in an addicting wave while his fingers filled and stretched you.

“So good for me, so patient.” Price coo’ed softly, leaning slow and steady before kissing you, the force of it pressing your head back into the pillow as his fingers sped up, thrusting faster into you, feeling your slick grow, your pussy more readily accepting, allowing the man to start to scissor the digits, opening you up more and more until he introduced a third finger. His hold on your wrists tightened before he slid it up to curl his fingers with yours, entwining the digits between both your hands, loosely holding. For more than loose was not needed. You’d stay, readily and eagerly, kissing back as you felt his tongue roll through your mouth, tasting and exploring once more.

When he curled his fingers inside you, you squeaked into his mouth, causing the brunet to chuckle against your lips, continuing the motion again and again, feeling your squirming increase, his body on top of yours the only thing keeping you in place. Though when your knee brushed past the bulge in his pants, he gasped into your mouth, pausing his movements as he felt you try to catch your breath, a whimper on your lips as the building pressure left when he froze.

“Little minx.” He whispered, a smile curling onto his face as he hummed into your skin, rubbing his beard into you softly. “Wanna mark you so bad. But I better hold off.” He murmured, his fingers instead slipping out of you, to your dismay. “Sssh, ssh. It’s okay.” He soothed, using the same hand to push your underwear down your hips and thighs, leaving them there a moment as he guided one leg up and out of the garment, letting the fabric hang where it was on your other leg, already forgotten as his hand yanked the loop out at the drawstrings of his leather pants.

Making quick work of pushing them down his thighs, he pushed his underwear down with it, his cock freed and heavy, almost throbbing as you looked down, feeling the flush on your face spread to your ears.

“I’ll take my time to worship you soon. For now, I just have to be inside you.” He groaned softly, lining up with you before glancing up, waiting for you to give the okay.

Touched, you bit your lip before nodding. Upon getting the okay, he rubbed his tip through your folds, sliding up to your clit and down once, twice as he gathered your slick on it before carefully pushing into your entrance.

Letting go of your lip, you looked down with a little gasp, seeing his length slowly sinking into you, a familiar full feeling spreading from your walls, all the way up your spine.

Price panted as he felt himself slip in so easily, having prepared you well. “There you go, taking me so well. Made for me.” He groaned out, his head thrown back as he rocked his hips, pushing deeper into you, intent to fully sink in.

“John-” You gasped, your fingers curling around his and a little moan left him that had your cunt clench.

“Yes, say it again.” He panted, his free hand holding your hip, pulling you down while he pushed deeper, almost fully inside.

“John.” You whined a little moan, so full, feeling him bottom out soon after, his balls resting against your ass as he paused, panting.

“Knew you could do it- Fuck, so good.” Price panted, his body pressing down on you, his chest to yours almost suffocating as he panted into your neck, so so tempted to bite down, mark you up. But he refrained.

Instead, he pulled back his hips before pushing back in, his cock slick with your fluids as he began to move, feeling how tightly your cunt was gripping him with every thrust, his pace starting slow and languid, though it quickly started picking up speed.

Panting, you looked down, seeing his length move out before disappearing into you, a dark smattering of hair running up to his navel as he rocked into you, a small bump visible by your stomach every time he pushed in, a moan leaving you as the tip of his cock hit a spongy spot deep inside you.

“I- ah-” You moaned, throwing your head back as your growing pleasure from before came rushing back and Price bit his lip, starting to speed up a bit more, pushing deep into you, intent on hitting that spot every time.

“My queen.” Price panted, not to address you, but possessive. A claim. You were his. His queen.

“I-” You panted, feeling a sheen of sweat start to gather at the back of your neck and by your lower back, embarrassment curling through you as so quickly you felt the pleasure grow.

Grunting with his thrusts, Price snapped his hips into you, hitting deep, pausing half a second before pulling out a repeating, not fast but deep. Hitting your sweet spot with every rock of his hips into you, his balls hitting into you with every move.

“Keep going-” You moaned, your breathing speeding up as Price began to kiss up and down your neck, his thrusts getting accompanied by groans as he felt his own pleasure grow.

Shifting his hold from your hip, the man lifted your leg up to hook over him, holding you there as he fucked into you, moaning as he hit even deeper, your own control of your noise slipping.

Every push in got a breathy moan from you, every pull out a gasp. Squeezing your hands once, the man then smashed his lips into yours while his now free hand roamed down to roll into your clit, his thumb gently moving back and forth, making you groan loudly into his mouth, the sound completely swallowed up by his greedy lips, his hips picking up speed as he started to feel his thoughts blur, blending together in a jumbled mess as he chased his high.

“Fuck, John-” You whimpered, a pressure building, an electric feeling shooting through your spine as your back started to arch, the kiss broken as Price panted into your skin, his hips snapping into you.

“There you go, come on. Cum for me.” He huffed, his thumb rolling circles onto your clit not letting up, persistent and unforgiving, a whimper leaving you as you threw your head back.

“Yes-!” You gasped, moaning out as the tight coil snapped, your walls clenching tight as you came undone.

Spasming around his cock, Price groaned out, fucking you through your orgasm as the heat in his belly spread through his whole body, chasing his high as he began to move faster, more desperate, clinging to you in desperation as he panted into you.

“Come on, come on-!” He gasped before snapping his hips into you, holding still as a low moan rolled from his lips, feeling his release hit him, pumping into you in quick spurts, his hips stuttering a few more times before he stilled inside you.

There, the two of you laid, panting into each other, breaths mingling as you tried to catch your breath, tightly holding onto one another, even as your leg slowly slipped down from his waist.

Panting, Price stayed there, his forehead pressed to yours as he could feel his seed begin to leak out around his cock still stuffed within you.

“That’s… dangerous.” You panted softly and Price chuckled softly, lifting his head away from yours to look down at you, his eyes soft and adoring.

“It doesn’t matter, we’ll be married soon anyways.” He spoke as he caught his breath, smiling down at you before leaning in to kiss you.

- - - - - -

Trying to get back into writing a bit, sorry for my absence 😔✋. Hope you enjoyed! Comments and reblogs much appreciated, thank you for reading! <3

[sirfluffletin]

Forsaken Boyfriend Troupes

Jealous control freak

Two Time, They're not jealous nor possessive of you. They acknowledged that you are your own person with plans, interests, ambitions, etc. They're not a master and you’re not their pet, but Spawn would they try to keep you in their clutches and refuse to let go. You are a gift, for them to cherish and protect. You deserve to make those choices too, even if they disagree with what you pick. Although there is a non-zero chance they will go behind your back anyway and nudge things into its proper direction.

Serial Cheater

John Doe, has a bit of a possessive streak. It typically shows itself during a bout with the defunct code scrambling his brain or the work of the spectre altering their memories, which usually entails him pulling you away from someone standing too close or throwing another person’s hand off you at it's most harmless and at its worst it comes to blows or even lethal interference. He feels rotten after the fact but at least you're still here, you aren't gone... You're not leaving him.

Incompetent about anything dealing with children, including their own.

Itrapped, is probably polyamorous, the man has an ego, although for the most part, iTrapped is also a gentleman. He'll let you know what he wants out of your relationship, how long he plans to fancy you, and what to expect from him. Until he becomes neglectful of communication, which can and will lead to more than a few heartbreaks. The icy bitch will not feel sorry either, the most you will get is an half-assed apology text or if you're lucky he'll tell you in person through persed lips and trademark cynism.

Total Manchild

Chance, It's not that he is incompetent- no it's that he lacks spine when it comes to children and he's a firm believer of throwing money at your problems. He'd be really sweet and doting but as soon as the water-works come on he's leaving you and that child's life like expired milk. At least until you get it to calm down.

Noob

Can't be trusted to do anything guy.

Shedletsky, (to begin, I'd like to say this anecdote was inspired by @just-a-joey 's headcanons on telamons and 1x) Telamon prided himself on being the admin that does whatever, whenever they liked as solitary as a rhinoceros horn as free and turbulent as the weather. I am of the firm belief that Shedletsky also embodies the careless childlike nature found in their counterpart. They abandoned one of their only responsibilities, a product of their creation, and play victim when what they neglected seeks retaliation, whether it was in their hands or not. (Shedletsky is a reincarnation of Telamon in my synapses)

Ringmaster

Mr. Job before family

Guest 666

Builderman, His first love is and will always be his work, He loves you to death don't get him wrong- but he is the boss of Roblox, When all goes to shit, when his admin, moderators, world fails. He has to be the one to go out and fix things. In turn, he will not be home to you for days or weeks, but he always will make time for you.

Noli, he is one of those partners who isn’t around a lot. He’s often wholly consumed by voidstar and spends long days, weeks, rarely months, but it happens while traveling and stealing voidstars like Pokémon cards. He needs to focus. He struggles with prioritizing anything over the voidstar, especially when he’s possessed by the crown. This will be a lifelong struggle for Noli, but it is something he’s willing to make an effort towards correcting and making right when he’s in love.

The Damsel in Distress

Elliot, he tries not to make it that way...

Emotionally Unavailable

Taph, has a lot of insecurity and defensiveness that come from years of mistreatment and forced self-sufficiency, so he has a very short fuse on his social battery, and self-inflicted isolation comes naturally to them. He wouldn't mean to cut you off or distance you but they need their time and sub-space. Make his plate for him during dinner so he doesn't have to deal with the crowded food table, fix his hood and robes for him so he doesn't look ridiculous in public. Just be his support system, God knows he needs one his coping methods are... Unethical.

007n7

Guest 1337

1x1x1x1

Jane Doe

[dazed-19]

based on @havanillas role swap au

normal ratio and gambler ratio switch places :3

probably gonna write this out when i finish up my argenthill fic

dr.kakavasha is suspicious of “Lapis” but chalks it up to him being weirder than usual

ratio actually understands what’s going on and tries to play the role of Lapis. he hypothesized that aven probably took his place in this universe but when he sees dr.kakavasha he freezes up and almost reveals himself.

when dr. kakavasha actually has a meeting with veritas (by force not choice, more contrast between the characters hahaahha) he realizes its not Lapis and threatens veritas.

“You’ve done your research, you know that this stoneheart’s real name is veritas ratio, but it seems you somehow haven’t caught wind of who he is now. I suggest you reveal yourself so you can lessen your punishment. Impersonation of a stoneheart is strictly forbidden.”

Ratio being ratio, uses his wits to convince dr.kakavasha. He understands that since Dr. Kakavasha is similar to himself, he should see his reasoning. Dr. Kakavasha is surprised at first, but after he learns of what Ratio’s universe is like he obliges and helps Ratio figure a way back home. All the while asking Ratio questions about himself as he finally has a chance to see who the Veritas Ratio he heard so much about while studying was like before he turned into Lapis. He does this to also understand Lapis better, because he wants to know what was the difference and why they became so different. He also is very surprised when veritas whips out his abalasor head because what the fuck?? when they’re alone together ratio uses it when he’s deep in thought because while this is kakavasha, he isn’t his.

aventurine immediately realizes it’s not his doctor bc while Lapis understands what’s going on, he dreads having to be veritas ratio again. so he disappears (as best as he can) as he knows his counterpart will find a way to fix this. aven being aven finds Lapis (he’s lucky ofc he’s gonna find him) and is surprised to see how different Lapis is from veritas and makes note of how much nous’ gaze really impacted the both of them. (if aven already knows that ratio never received nous’ gaze make it so that he realizes how much it matters as well. idk if aven actually knows this so that’s why we gotta research.) he also invites Lapis to stay with him bc Lapis has been staying at a run down hotel with a casino. aven invites him also because he wants to understand veritas more so if he learns more about Lapis, veritas’ opposite but still similar, he’ll be able to figure veritas out. and also because he wants to find out how to get his doctor back. Safe to say he is SHOCKED when Lapis is almost exactly like himself. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised since Lapis already explained what was going on, but he’s still surprised. While he would love to see a version of Ratio gamble and win 10 times in a row, he knows that his Doctor would hate to see his reputation ruined and to be thought of as a gambling addict so he makes sure that Lapis stops before things get even crazier. He opts to let Lapis gamble with himself to at least keep him entertained. Also while Aven originally let Lapis stay so they could find out how set things right, he is again shocked when Lapis slacks off and almost never touches a single book or article about dimensional travel.

“Lapis, I hope you know that while I enjoy winning against you when we gamble,” Aven stated. He wanted to get a start on how to get his doctor back, and Ra- Lapis, had done as much as spending two seconds reading a book. He took a breath, “That’s not why I invited you to stay with me.”

“I am aware, however I’m sure your Ratio is on his way to figure out whatever happened. He’s honestly probably working with my little doctor hah. Oh how I wish I could’ve seen Dr. Kakavasha’s face when he realized it wasn’t me.”

Aventurine froze. “Sorry, Kakavasha?” Lapis looked at him for a moment. And then laughed.

“Oh right, hah. Here you’re not called by your birth name since your a stoneheart. I keep forgetting that, sorry Aventurine.”

Also there’s probably one moment where Aven finds Lapis drunk and there’s a reference to the comic the artist made.

“Lapis stared into Aventurine’s eyes. Like he was lost in them. It seemed as though he could stare into those multicolored eyes forever.

“Lapis, my friend, its about time we head back no? I’m sure you’ll regret not drinking any water tomorrow so-“

“They’re beautiful.”

“…What?”

“Those eyes.” He pauses, taking another moment to stare before he dons a smile too wide for the face Aventurine has come to know. “Hah its just like what happened last time I drank this much.” The blonde’s eyes widen into saucers. The sharp inhale he does does nothing to calm himself down.

“Haha, is- is that so?”

“Quite. It's most likely the one constant throughout the universe. Your eyes will always be pretty, and they will always make me yearn.” Lapis whispers the end of that sentence, like if he says it any louder this moment will shatter into a million pieces, like a mirror.”

[tarotwithavi]

You know what’s worse than living in underprivileged circumstances? Living in an emotionally unavailable home.

This isn’t to say that poverty isn’t a struggle, it absolutely is. Lack of money brings its own hardships, ones that can break a person. But emotional neglect? That breaks you in ways no amount of money can fix.

Yes, I can have lavish birthday parties with lots of gifts but not a single real smile or moment of warmth from my family.

Yes, I can cook delicious meals or order my favorite food but I can’t even enjoy them because my parents are too busy fighting.

Yes, I can celebrate festivals with grand decorations but every festival brings another argument, another reason to feel empty.

Yes, we can travel anywhere we want but in my family, people would rather stay home than spend time together.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that money is essential for survival, but it’s not everything. Because what’s the point of having everything if it still feels like nothing?

[alphajocklover]

Hey there, it's exam time and I'm really stressed out man, wondering if I could be a nice hunky southern cowboy who doesn't have to worry about all that?

I’m going to start this out by apologizing, since it’s very clearly been a while since you sent in this request. I mean, exams? Clearly I’ve let things get behind. Between looking for a way to get my Uncle back, investigating InstaJock, all the other stories I’ve been looking into, and some other issues I’ve been dealing with recently, I’ve been neglecting the questions and requests you all send in. I know there's nothing I can do to fix it, at least not completely – I mean I could potentially use my time machine and go back to when you originally asked this, but I think I’ve made my feelings on time travel pretty clear. So, to make up for taking so long, I’m going to do more than just make you a cowboy. I’m going to make you the ultimate cowboy. I’m going to turn you from a stringy, stressed out student, into a hunky piece of certified southern beef. Well, I won’t be. For this I’m going to have to refer you to a friend of mine. I’d like to introduce you all to The Ranch. 

I won’t tell you the specific state the Ranch is in, or any other identifying details like its real name, as I don’t want anyone trying to locate The Ranch on their own, but to anyone looking at it from the outside The Ranch is a small, surprisingly successful cattle ranch somewhere in the american south. Of course, like most things when it comes to TFs, The Ranch is much more than it first appears. The first thing you need to know about The Ranch is that it's a transformation area, of sorts. A transformation area, in case you’ve forgotten, in an area like Maxford, where people who enter the area are transformed in some way. The Ranch isn’t like most transformation areas however, as the transformation doesn’t happen automatically, but gradually, and lasts for some time, even after leaving The Ranch. Basically, any man who enters the grounds of The Ranch and spends enough time there will slowly become more and more of a muscular, beefy cowboy. The second thing you need to know about The Ranch is that it's, well, alive. When I said I was introducing you to a friend, I was being literal. I don’t know how exactly, but The Ranch has a sort of… consciousness. Not a mind really, since a mind would imply a true physical body, but a spirit, one that's not only aware of everything that happens on The Ranch, but can direct and command its magic. The Ranch itself has a consciousness, and intention. I visited the Ranch for a little while, right after my Uncle got changed. Not long enough to transform permanently, but long enough to get to know the Ranch, and some of the manly cowboys who decided to live there permanently after being transformed. For an otherworldly spirit of a magical ranch, The Ranch is surprisingly down to earth. He’s wise, kind, and the human form he takes at times is really handsome. He was incredibly open to my investigation, and over time has become a good friend. The only reason I haven’t written about him before is that I was a little worried about exposing his privacy, but he assured me that it would be ok to mention him. 

Anyways, let's get back to you. In order to become the beefy cowboy of your dreams, all you’ll have to do is spend a little bit of time at The Ranch. You’ll have to help out with the work, taking care of the cattle and the farming, but you’ll have at least a dozen muscular gay cowboys and the spirit of The Ranch itself to keep you company. It’ll happen slowly, but you’ll grow and change overtime, until eventually you’ll be a pinnacle of country masculinity. I’ve already talked about it with The Ranch, and everyone there will be happy to have you. You can stay as long as you want.

[moonsglare]

“are you sure you have everything?”

lyney huffs a bit of a strangled laugh, but nods. he’s somewhat used to your fussing, but it still feels a little… not exactly embarrassing, but a warm heat makes its way from his chest to his cheeks nonetheless. he holds the magic pocket bag closer to his chest as you fix the fastenings of his fatui cloak yet again, fiddling with the clips and ensuring they’re secure and not about to fly off in the harbor wind as it blows freely around them all.

“i’m all set,” he assures you, then glances over at lynette. she’s still a little woozy—it is the break of dawn, after all, since father prefers moving under the dense cover of darkness, and though lynette is awake she’s certainly not ecstatic to be awake. as a result, she’s the next target of your fussing; you gently pat her cheeks to wake her up a little more, and she lets out almost a small, mewling noise before snapping out of her drowsy daze.

“you can rest a little more on the ship, lynette,” you say, and the young woman nods. “if you get seasick, i packed some medicine. and i made some food if you get hungry; it won’t last very long on a ship, so remember to eat it, okay? oh—i also packed earmuffs, be sure to wear them if it gets too cold, alright?”

“understood,” lynette answers, leaning into your touch as you pat her hair. she’s always been more physically affectionate with you, though she tempers herself when the familiar sound of boots and metallic heels on stone tiles echo behind all of you.

“i take it everyone is prepared to set off?” comes father’s calm, even tone. behind her is freminet; he isn’t dressed for travel, since he’ll be staying in fontaine, but followed along to see them off. she’s dressed somewhat similarly, but unlike lyney and lynette who seem to drown in their cloaks, father wears it like a mantle—the fur broadens her already broad shoulders, and she looks more like a king than ever. and yet despite that, you simply turn and stride over to her, your hands reaching out to smooth down the lapels of her cloak.

“just double checking,” you hum, though there’s a little bit of a sigh in your voice. “i think i packed everything.”

father offers you a mild look. “the children know how to pack their own things.”

“i know, but i wanted to help,” you reply, and lyney swears he sees the hard lines of her face soften imperceptibly. there’s a slackness to her normally tense posture as you do all your last minute checks—cufflinks? i have them. hand cream? yes. ID? all settled, dearest—and lyney has to marvel on the sway you have over their typically unshakeable father.

“we should head out,” she says gently, taking one of your wrists in a tender, dark hand. a brief flicker of stubborness flashes across your expression, before you sigh.

“ah, before i forget…” you produce a tiny pouch, and then place it into father’s open palm. she regards it curiously, tilting her head. there’s a rustle of plastic inside, but also the clack of a few hard objects hitting each other. “coffee candies,” you explain, “for when you feel sleepy.”

“thank you,” father says, her tone as warm and soft as it always is with you. she accepts the pouch, and slips it into one of her cloak pockets. “i will remember to have them.”

you huff. “you better. i’ve already told lyney and lynette not to let you skip meals, as you’re so prone to do.”

“is that so?” father asks mildly, glancing at them both, and it takes quite a bit to not shiver under her questioning gaze. lyney truly has no idea how he’ll convince father to eat later on this trip, but he figures dropping your name a few time should do the trick. he hopes.

“it is,” you say firmly, and then your tone softens again. you look up at father, and lyney cannot see your expression from here, but he knows the same is reflected in father’s—loving, with a hint of departure’s sorrow. “be safe. come home.”

“alwaus,” father answers, and lyney, lynette and freminet have the sense to look away when she leans down to kiss you chastely. they only look back up when father steps over to them, leaving you and freminet on the other side of the dock. she levels freminet with a look. “do not forget your duty, freminet.”

he nods resolutely, hugging pers a little tighter. “of course, father.”

(just a few moments ago, she’d pulled him to the side and gave him a direct order, as the fourth fatui harbingers and the knave.

“you will protect the house with your life,” she had said, her tone brookering no argument, though it wasn’t as if freminet was looking to argue. and though father has said ‘the house’, freminet had lived long enough there to know the truth of her words.

“yes, father. i won’t let anything happen to mom.”)

and then, with the bellow of a horn, their little ship sets off into morning light. lyney watches father’s face carefully as the dawn breaks, casting the harbinger’s expression in shades of warm gold. she’s uncharacteristically unguarded in this brief flash of a moment—not that she would ever admit such a thing, even upon threat of death. but lyney knows love is most felt when it is leaving, and so even as she turns on her heel to enter the cabin, he knows she’s already counting down the days before she can return home—return to you.

[vultursvolans]

— ☆ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: although it wasn’t in the way that he planned, zhongli finally proposes to you ♡

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Zhongli x F!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k | masterlist | byf/dni

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: fluff, toothrotting fluff, established relationship, he calls you ‘my love’, ‘dearest’, you’re aware of him being the former archon, set at that floating island in the sky, you guys are so so in love lalalala

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

this piece is part of a flufftober event by spookuna ♡

For a moment, Zhongli couldn’t believe the words that left his lips. It had slipped out so naturally, so casually, as if he were merely asking about the weather. The question always lingered within him, much like the ring that waited patiently in his pocket whenever he decided the time wasn’t quite right.

Zhongli, a man of tradition, had always envisioned asking you at an appointed hour, at an appointed place, where the occasion would be nothing short of extraordinary.

Yet, here it was, out in the open, spoken with such casualness that betrayed its significance.

A gentle breeze swept across the landscape, nudging the summer clouds into a lazy drift. It was a cozy day for Liyue and as the sun made its descent below the horizon, the sky transformed into a fiery shade of orange.

High above Teyvat, hidden amidst the clouds, two pairs of legs dangled over a small floating island. They belonged to you and the former Archon, who often sought refuge in this corner of Liyue. Your fingers were intertwined with his as you gazed over the endless expanse. Finally free of prying eyes and the demands of everyday life, you sighed.

“Isn’t Liyue extra beautiful today, Zhongli?”

“It is, indeed,” he hummed, yet his eyes were not on the fading day. His gaze was fixed solely on you who sat beside him so calm and content, that he almost felt a pang of loss when you let go of his hand to rest your chin in your palm.

A small smile formed at the corners of your lips when his response reached your ears but your attention remained at the world below.

“I think you would appreciate its beauty more if you actually looked, you fool,” you replied, chuckling as you turned his face toward the dotted treetops and silhouettes of tiny homes.

Zhongli feigned a tired sigh, “No, I’m very aware of Liyue’s grace. I just prefer what’s in front of me, my love.”

You nudged him playfully, your legs swinging carelessly in the air. If there was a part of you that was afraid of heights, it vanished entirely in his presence.

“I’m serious,” He said, sliding an arm around your waist as a subtle invitation for you to relax your head on his shoulders.

He was serious though.

Being immortal— he had learned— was both a gift and a curse. It granted him both solitude and loneliness. He watched Liyue grow through centuries as if it were his very child and only two years ago, you had marched into his life like a reminder that love had not forgotten him. Beyond even the gift of immortality, you gave him a reason to cherish the present. So yes, he was utterly serious about choosing you above all else.

Unaware of his contemplation, you decided to tease him. “So you’re telling me you’re growing tired of Liyue?” You knew he wasn’t but what was the point of being tough and impenetrable if you couldn’t poke a bit of fun?

“How could I?” he shook his head. “Liyue is forever new and beautiful. You, however, are just a terrible distraction.”

You both laughed but there was weight to his words. Selfishly, he was thankful for not being the Archon anymore because, by Celestia above, you would have distracted him more than he dared to admit from his duties.

Then you remembered something.

“Oh, right!” You sat up and a soft smile played on your lips when you began taking out a book from your travel bag. The stiff cover and imperfect stitching suggested to him that you had made it yourself.

“I have something to show you.” You opened to the first page and there was a photo of you two from one of your travels. “Remember this?”

He chuckled, the memory still vivid in his head, “Do you know who you’re speaking to?” Zhongli took the book from you, studying it before flipping to the next page and then the next.

“I can see that you’ve put the photos in order… How thoughtful.”

You nodded.

Then he stopped at a certain picture, “Ah, our first Lantern Rite together— that was a pleasant night. You were so enchanted by those noodles from that vendor, that you insisted on having them for dinner all week.”

“And for some reason, my hunger has not yet been quelled, Zhongli,” you teased with another nudge.

“Soon, soon. I promise,” he replied with a sly grin only reserved for you.

“You know,” you began, “I’d like to travel beyond Liyue someday.”

“Where would you go?” he raised a brow at the sudden statement.

You hummed, thinking for a moment and then you pointed at the patch of emerald forestry barely visible through the billowing clouds, “Sumeru— the jungles there are supposed to be incredible. Or perhaps Inazuma. The cherry blossoms there are breathtaking,” turning more to the south as you said the latter.

As always, Zhongli listened while you rambled on about your future adventures.

“...We could go anywhere, do anything,” You suggested at the end of your little spiel.

“We can plan something,” he agreed.

“Oh, it’d be magical,” your heart swelled at the idea, “Maybe we could even reach Fontaine and have a picnic by their waters.”

You nearly gasped at how remarkable your idea was, “Oh my, Zhongli. Can you imagine sitting under the sun? With a book? My bones are getting all relaxed just thinking about—”

“Dearest?” Zhongli gently interrupted.

“Yes?” You replied, slightly worried about talking too much.

“Do you suppose we could keep doing this?”

“This?” You looked around the floating island, admittedly a little bewildered, “As in, coming here? Why would we ever stop?”

“No, no. I’m referring to us, just being together wherever we go. It doesn’t matter to me where we are.”

“Zhongli…”

“Do you think we could continue this… journey together?”

The question hung in the air, simple yet profound.

At this point, you turned fully to him, gaze softening as you met his amber eyes. They were wise and longing and wonderfully human.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Any form of hesitation died in his throat as he fiddled with his pocket and presented a ring to you. The world faded into a soft blur as he did.

“Then do you suppose you could marry me?”

Nothing but your breath escaped your lips. You were momentarily speechless. Sure, Zhongli had been oddly quiet but today was meant to be just another day. Now, your reality as you knew it became a distant memory.

He swallowed hard as he held the ring. It looked ancient but well-preserved, like a piece of fine craftsmanship. The gold band had delicate carvings unfamiliar to you and the stone was cut in such a way that it caught and refracted the last rays of sunlight as if it were alive. Maybe it was the remnants of divinity residing in him, but it radiated a soothing warmth in his hand. How would anyone believe that a humble consultant at the Wangsheng funeral parlour proposed to you with this?

Your chest began to bubble with emotion and you wanted to scream.

“Y-You want to marry me?” Your voice caught in your throat.

You could feel yourself getting hot, the reality of him wanting to be with you forever slowly crept up on you.

“Yes, I simply want to enjoy life with you. But if it takes a contract to call you my wife then of all the contracts I’ve ever woven, this one will remain my final and most sacred.”

He looked at you with a reverent smile.

“So what do you say?”

You pulled him into a tight embrace, feeling his words settle over you. In front of you wasn’t just the God of Contracts; he was the man who captured your heart. For every lingering kiss, every fulfilled promise, every time he opened you up to a new world of knowledge even when you thought you saw it all, and for every time he lent an ear and believed in your dreams— you knew what your answer would be.

“Yes. Yes!” The second time sounded louder than the last. Your voice was full of so much tenderness and conviction. You couldn’t stop saying it. “Yes, a thousand times, yes.” If you told the version of yourself from many years ago that you would be this important to someone, you would laugh.

“Thank you,” he said in the most sincere voice you’ve ever heard. “You have made me the happiest I’ve felt in a long time.”

Zhongli slid the ring onto your finger before cupping your face. You could feel the trail of kisses he was leaving on your forehead, then down your cheeks, and finally they found home between the plush of your lips— his kisses were so warm and gentle that it was hard to believe this was the same God people described as having a heart of stone.

Everything around you seemed to pause. The sun had almost fully set and the sky was now painted with the first hint of evening stars. With you in his arms, he wondered if this sense of peace came from being on this island or from the fact that he could now soon call you his wife.

Wife… he repeated in his head. His wife… it sounded just right.

A crisp breeze had settled between the two of you, perhaps for the better, to calm your burning hearts. After finally breaking away from him, you were the first to speak.

“So, what do we do now?”

Zhongli chuckled, pressing a kiss to your hair, “We continue, just as we always have… However, I hope you don’t mind me being a little more permanent to you now.”

“Permanent, huh?” You smiled, feeling a warmth coursing through you that had nothing to do with the summer air. “I like the sound of that.”

Eventually, Zhongli rose, helping you to your feet. He offered you his arm with a familiar gentlemanly gesture, “It’s getting a little dark. Shall we head back, my love”

“Mmm,” You slipped into his grasp, “Let’s go home.”

Home. The meaning was always tied to Liyue, by the earth and stone he had shaped for thousands of years. But now that's changed.

No matter where the world took him, as long as he faced it side-by-side with you, he knew that home would be wherever you were. Seeing you was like returning to a place he never truly left. Lost in thought, his thumb brushed gently over the ring he had just placed on your finger.

Home.

Zhongli liked the sound of that.

For the first time in his long life, the word felt complete.

a/n: i actually wrote this for an oc a while back, but i’m so glad i get to share this with people because i was so smitten at the time of writing it and reading this brings back all those feelings

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

all dividers are from @/chachachannah

[lizzy06]

Naruto Fic Recs!! (AO3)

Fandom Masterlist

Hey guys these are my favorite Naruto fics!! Hope u enjoy them too <3!!

No Paring

becoming the memory✨💖 by iinsomniatic(Time travel fix it, Jiraiya raises naruto) Out of options and about to die, Jiraiya writes a seal he’s sure isn’t going to work anyway. Then he wakes up, and damn it all, it’s October 10th. [ONGOING] From me to you: Unsent letters ✨✨by Lady_Ye(oneshot, suicide note)This made me cry so hard!! [COMPLETED]

Naruto Uzumaki x Sakura Haruno

Artistic purpose ✨by StormyInk (one shot, fluff) sai gets his new inspiration of drawing from his friends with which he also sets something off!! [COMPLETED] Just like me by bendingwing (oneshot, fluff)The beginnings of narusaku [COMPLETED] The Children of Omelas byFangirlJo (oneshot, Utopia, Dystopia, inspired by the one who walks away from omelas)She was 8 when she noticed the blonde boy in ragged clothing with bruises, sores and cuts all over him. She doesn't think the adults ever noticed him despite his bizarre looks, but she did.[COMPLETED] Date Night by TwinEnigma(oneshot Wingman sasuke, funny)In which Sasuke tries to do something nice for Naruto and Sakura's first anniversary. Hilarity ensues. [COMPLETED] Of pink and orange by FairyLetters (oneshot, reader is a spectator, fluff and angst)You watch as Sakura Haruno and Naruto Uzumaki come to an understanding that Sasuke Uchiha has left again.[COMPLETED] What now? by Kameodash(oneshot, after war)Naruto and Sakura try to cope with the trauma of the war together.[COMPLETED] Leaving You by THE_MAN42(oneshot, Love confession ,Sad ending)Naruto dies in her arms.[COMPLETED] Shinachiku and the Multiverse of...Wait There's a Multiverse?! by DuchessofChaos (time travel,falling in love) shinachiku travels to a world where his parents don't exist[ONGOING] Open Hearts by gabriella0807(post war,fluff)After the war there is a lot of work left to be done and many problems to be solved in the Shinobi world, while our heroes need to heal and move forward with their lives. [COMPLETED] Baby its you ✨by Behla(fake dating, friends to lovers, crush's wedding, single bed) Haruno Sakura finds herself in desperate need of a date for the wedding of a man she's been pining after for over eight years, in order to convince him and his bride that she's getting over him.[ONGOING]

Nara shikamaru x Ino Yamanaka

Red Ribbon by amuk(one shot,humour, friendship)They made a promise and Ino spent three years searching for Shikamaru to keep that promise. Time changes everyone, though, and Shikamaru looks cozy with his coworker, Temari. Some promises can't be kept. [COMPLETED]

In the forest 💖💖💖✨by SenkaHitomi(LadyTegan) - (post war, mission gone wrong, slow burn) shikamaru returns in catatonic state from a mission and ino must go into the labyrinth of his mind to bring shikamru back! [COMPLETED]

Its her again... ✨✨by atmymercy (Highschool au, pinning) Ino gets jealous of the girl who sits beside shika on his train and this leads to a whirlwind confrontation of her feelings..[COMPLETED]

Uchiha sasuke x sakura Haruno

Before the storm ✨by crissy_writes_garbage(Time travel to past, pregnant sakura)Sakura is pregnant and lost, a combination that leads to more trouble than necessary. Specially when you're lost in the past. [COMPLETED]

Gaara x Sakura Haruno

words that tie, ties that bind by Binxxx(soulmates, angst,SHUKAKU THE THERAPIST)During the chaos of the Chunin Exams, Sakura discovers who her soulmate is. [ONGOING] The four heavenly treasures by IRinna(arranged marriage, politics, friends-to-lovers)Princess Sakura of the Land of Fire is offered in a political alliance to the Land of Wind to help survive the incoming war. There she meets Gaara, leader of Wind and one of the champions of the Four Heavenly Treasures. [COMPLETED]

Uchiha Madara x Sakura Haruno

The Black bull by Vesperchan (oneshot, beauty and the beast elements)Based on the classic Scottish fairytale The Black Bull of Norroway.[COMPLETED]

Itachi Uchia(xf!reader)

Ikigai ✨by MissWriter97(arranged marriage, senju reader, alternate au) Uchiha Itachi gets married to the women he does not love to prevent the massacre! This is a lovely fic...[ONGOING]

Senju Tobirama(xf!reader)

A Step in Time by MizzGinger (senju tobirama x Princess! reader ,arrange marriage, time travel, second chances) This is and alternate au story with a lot of war time drama going on!! It has a brilliant set up!![ONGOING]

The Home I crave✨✨ by cafeinthemoon93( arranged marriage, angst, slowburn, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers )I really loved this fics, the detailing and pacing were chef's kiss!![HIATUS]

Some other pairing stories

Iruka x reader

Growing along the line✨✨💖 by FreakyPseudWriter(fake dating, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, fluff)After a really bad day at your workplace you meet Umino Iruka, who quickly makes you open up to him. But you certainly didn't expect him to suddenly claim you two were romantically involved! [COMPLETED]

Sasori x Sakura Haruno

Bait and Hitch✨✨ by Aelynthi (fake dating, coworkers, crush's wedding)When Haruno Sakura finds out Sasuke is engaged, she does the only thing she knows to do in order to save her pride—she lies.[ONGOING]