partners. written for Cirque du Mystique, a circus AU fanzine.
• juminv
(eventual) proposal thing. but right now just a thing. "tv 14" if it was on television. who knows how to rate this writing other than bad? hints of sexual intimacy.
• juminv/reader
• jumin drabbles
♡ genshin impact
• zhongli/reader
untitled. comfort fluff. pg.
first kiss scenario. pg.
• zhongli drabbles
wip — you. pg.
• yanfei drabbles
• yoimiya drabbles
♡ ace attorney
• mitsumayo
it was an accident. fluff. pg.
spontaneous. fluff. pg.
• feyquill
• maya drabbles
september 5, 2016. mentions of blood and murder. pg-13.
Requests: Open! I enjoy writing fluff and sometimes 🔞 scenarios (though I will not touch anything that has non-consenting characters or actions. We adore romance and sweetness in this house!) Hurt with a lot of comfort. I do not write angst, as I'm just not good at it. ^^;
Please respect my ships. I do not tolerate any ship bashing or hate. Anything of the sort will be deleted and you will be blocked. 🚫 I'm too old and too tired to participate in ship hate and/or discourse.
this time it's a juminv hanahaki AU.(a not so great one. lol.)
the reason why i don't write angst .... i'm terrible at it.
rated pg.
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Jumin’s 8 when he first has a tickle in the back of his throat, followed by the feeling of something velvety soft and an overwhelming urge to cough.
He’s well-aware it’s best to cough into his elbow, or even into a handkerchief, but he isn’t quick enough; the urge is much too strong, and he places his hand over his mouth instead so the germs do not get into the air.
And he feels something land in his hand as he coughs – a curious feeling indeed. Had something come up? He hadn’t eaten since lunch… so he couldn’t be coughing up food. Right?
It wasn’t as if he was sick, or at least he didn’t believe that he was. So he didn’t believe that it could be phlegm…
Troubled, he pulled his hand away when he had finished coughing, and his eyes peered down into his hand. Eyebrows raising curiously when he spots a few small blue forget-me-nots laying in his palm.
He’s heard of this before. Hanahaki disease. A disease that makes someone cough up flowers due to unrequited love.
A silly thing, he thinks. There is no one that he feels that way toward.
He finds his way to the nearest bathroom to wash his hands and convinces himself that since he and a friend were roaming around in a garden, he must have accidentally swallowed some flowers there.
He’s twelve when he’s sitting on his bed, glancing down at a child sleeping on the floor nearby. The child’s parents had gone on a trip, leaving him and his sister alone for a week.
Can’t he stay with us? He has nowhere else to go, and no one to look after him–
No. We’re not babysitters. And I don’t see why you feel the need to hang out with him–
–He’s my friend!
That does not mean that he has any right staying with us, which he will not be.
Except that he was. At least during the night. Jumin had made sure that the boy had a somewhat comfortable place to rest his head.
And so the boy wouldn’t be alone.
The heir takes a breath before he succumbs to a coughing fit so sudden that he’s unable to cover his mouth quick enough, and a few forget-me-nots sputter from his mouth and onto his lap.
“…Jumin?” the boy on the floor says groggily.
To which Jumin quickly reaches behind him to grab a pillow so he can stifle the sound.
“…Jumin….are you okay?”
It takes him a few moments to respond to the inquiry, as he is busy swallowing in order to coat his throat and to refrain from coughing more.
“Y–Yeah, Jihyun. I’m okay…. Just need water.” He’s quick on his feet when he needs to be; covering up his actions with a lie. He makes a note to clean up the strange flowers before sunrise, since he doesn’t want anyone, let alone Jihyun, to know.
“…Go back to sleep.”
Years later, he’s sixteen and he doesn’t remember the last time he felt the need to cough so strongly. He’d just finished saying goodbye to Jihyun on the phone when it happens.
Only this time it feels as though he cannot catch an adequate breath as he coughs and spits out the flowers.
He doesn’t understand it. The attacks are few and far between, and he doesn’t know what triggers it. Each time has been different.
This time he had called his friend to inform him that he was going abroad for a while for school. He hoped that, in the future, he would have the chance to go to University outside of Seoul.
And when an opportunity presented itself for Jumin to take a trip with his school for learning purposes, he felt as though it would be a good place to start – a chance to see if there was a school that captured his interest.
He thought it much better than just researching and going by hearsay.
Jihyun sounded quite sad to hear the news, but sounded thankful when Jumin said he wouldn’t be gone long; that he’d certainly keep in touch, and that he would tell him when he returned.
And the heir was sure that the conversation ended on a good note – they both seemed to be okay with this.
However, for some reason, an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of Jumin’s stomach as he reaches for his throat. As he tries to breathe…
It takes a bit of time until he’s able to relaxed, and he’s slumped back against the wall. His chest heaving as he takes full, deep breaths after what feels like a million small ones.
His floor is a random array of forget-me-nots, and he sputters some more out before his head tilts upward and against the wall – his fingers curling into fists at his side.
When he’s in his early twenties, he forgets all about the strange flowers, as it had been yet another stretch of time when he found himself not coughing anything up.
Hell, he hadn’t even caught a cold in that stretch of time. He was as fit as a fiddle; as healthy as ever.
Yet he notices that Jihyun seems different. More silent than usual; his mind is elsewhere.
“Are you alright?” Jumin asks.
“Yes. I’m fine.” Silence falls between them until… “I think I’m in love.”
The heir cocks his head to the side and looks at his friend. “Oh? How do you know?”
“I…. I have a disease, Jumin. Hanahaki disease. Have you heard of it before?”
He’s quick to blurt out, “No. I haven’t.” and his fingers fiddle with one of the cuffs of his sleeve. Half afraid of what his friend is going to say, but he would be damned if he knew why.
“Well. It’s a disease where you cough up flowers due to unrequited love…”
“…Is there a cure?”
“Yes.” Jihyun nods. “Either the one you love reciprocates your feelings, or you get surgery to remove the flowers.”
“I see.” Jumin knew the first cure, but not the second. Not that he had the disease – oh no. There was no way. Whatever he had (that clearly wasn’t affecting him anymore, he thinks) was something else entirely. “So… who is the lucky person?”
“Ah. Her name’s Rika. She’s very nice. I think you’d like her. I should introduce you two sometime.”
As he listens to Jihyun, Jumin feels a sensation in his mouth – close to his molars and the sides of his cheeks – and he swallows repeatedly. He breathes slowly through his nose as he tries to make the feeling go away.
He feels like he is going to be ill, and feels like he’s burning up.
Jihyun notices the change in the atmosphere, and he glances in his direction. “You don’t look too good. Are you alright?” He shifts a little and reaches out to him. “Here let me–”
“–No!” Jumin all but shouts, which triggers him to cough and sputter. He moves quickly away from the other’s outstretched hand and stands up, swaying as he does. He covers his mouth as he begins to cough more, and he shakes his head back and forth repeatedly in an attempt to not allow the flowers to escape from his mouth and, in turn, having them seen.
So he tries to swallow. once. twice. hoping to consume the flowers that he’s coughed up. And he turns on his heel so his friend cannot see that he’s trying so desperately not to choke on the flowers that are caught in his throat.
“Jumin–!” Jihyun says in a tone unlike any he has heard. He sounds concerned. Panicked.
And over the thrum in Jumin’s ears, he can hear rustling as if the other is moving.
Which he was and he had because the next thing the heir knows is there’s a hand on his shoulder and his flinching and moving away from the touch.
Suddenly, he hears Jihyun coughing and gagging and Jumin doesn’t understand why.
…Perhaps whatever he had, was, in fact, something so rare and contagious and now Jihyun caught it. With that thought in his muddled mind, he muffles an excuse to leave.
But not before catching the other leaning over, hands resting upon his knees, and almost violently coughing up a pink dog rose that seems to fall to the ground as if it’s heavier than what it should be.
Jihyun wipes his mouth as he takes a few deep breaths and turns his head in Jumin’s direction…
only to find him gone.
It’s been a week since, and Jumin is bedridden. Feverish, weak, and his bed is an explosion of those blue forget-me-nots that he cannot seem to stop coughing up.
What other sort of illness could make one cough up flowers to the point where it would feel as though their lungs were on fire and the weight of their chest was crushing them and breathing was the most laborious and tiring thing they had to do?
Now is the time that he wishes he had looked into it sooner. There must be a reasonable explanation for this. …Something other than the known disease, of course.
Instead, he groans weakly, and closes his eyes tighter as he kicks off the sheet on top of him – sending the forget-me-nots resting upon it flying into the air and floating back down on top of, and around, him.
The sunlight filtering into his room is too much. The heat – is it cranked? is it off? he cannot remember – makes him feel as though he’s standing in front of a fire. It couldn’t be his body temperature as Jumin is, typically, cold by nature; he’s always had a low body temperature and, as such, been one to become cold rather easily.
However, even kicking off the sheet isn’t enough for him to cool down. If anything, he feels worse.
He attempts to sleep – he attempts to do anything to help him get through this. Although, most of the time, his feverish dreams lead him down memory lane… of the events that had happened a week ago… when all he wants to do is forget about them.
How could he allow himself to become so ill that he would start coughing up the damn flowers in front of his friend?
In hindsight, he should have made sure that he was healthy enough to spend some time with Jihyun.
Because if he was healthy then, he certainly wouldn’t be bedridden right now.
It’s another week and he’s feeling a bit better than before. He’s no longer laying helpless among what feels like a garden of forget-me-nots. He’s even vacuumed most of them up –
Though it was rather concerning to see that some of them were spotted red.
Jumin doesn’t know what that means and does not care to venture too far down that path.
All he knows is that he can breathe a little easier. He’s out of bed. And he hasn’t thought about what had happened prior to this day.
In fact, he had managed to repress any and all feeling that he had before this okay feeling he was now left with. A big accomplishment, he believes.
He’d much rather feel this than that.
This state of being has also made it so he hasn’t spoken to Jihyun since the incident. Which, truth be told, probably wasn’t such a bad thing. With a wince, he believes it better this way. The other would have much more time to spend with the woman he’s falling in love with–
–The threat of a cough has Jumin’s train of thought changing immediately.
Although he isn’t one hundred percent better, he feels the best course of action would be to dive into his work. As a new employee of C&R International, he will do what he can to make his father proud.
He’d do anything to keep his mind occupied. His feelings and emotions under control.
The coughing at bay.
About a month later, Jumin is invited to go out with Jihyun and his now girlfriend, Rika. As much as he’d prefer to stay home and continue his work, he agrees, albeit after much convincing from his friend.
He watches their interactions – her display of affection that Jihyun seems to shy away from – (or was that just Jumin’s imagination?) – because he’s a rather private person and the heir wants to tell her to stop being rude and inconsiderate…
On the other hand, this is their first meeting, and perhaps he’s judging her a bit too hard, too fast. With his experiences with women, it’s nothing new; he’s always been rather judgmental toward them… mostly because all they’ve ever wanted was his title, status, and wealth.
That’s not to say that she’s like those he’s encountered before, but he still can’t help but be weary of her. As such, he makes sure to keep an eye and an ear on her. All the while convincing himself that it’s for his own sake – not for anyone else’s.
…With his hands in his jacket pockets, he trails behind them. Silent. Observant.
Yet when Rika turns her head to look at him over her shoulder, there’s something about the look in her eyes that makes him falter slightly. “I heard you and V have been friends for a very long time!“ She says. "It’s nice to finally meet you, Jumin! V talks about you a lot!”
Her voice grates on his ears a bit. It’s saccharine – and he’s never been particularly fond of sweets.
“Funny. I haven’t heard all that much about you.” oh, he doesn’t mean to quip, but the words are out much faster than he can think not to verbalize it.
And he knows how rude it was to say, and he isn’t at all surprised when she stops in her tracks, grabbing onto Jihyun to make sure that he stops right along with her.
Jumin’s eyes flick from the young woman to the man at her side and back again. And there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach – a heaviness to his chest that he can’t explain.
“Really?” Rika pouts, turning her attention to Jihyun. “You haven’t said anything about me?”
“He told me you were nice,” Jumin responds.
She seems pleased with that, for she smiles a little. “Oh, well… I try to be. The world would be a better place if we all treated one another with love and care. Without hate fueling our hearts.” and she leans up against her boyfriend a little, nuzzling her head against him. “Isn’t that right, V?”
He nods in return, a smile curving his own lips as he glances down at her.
The velvety feeling in the back of Jumin’s throat is sudden and he spits a few forget-me-nots toward the couple.
“Jumin!? What’s going on?” Jihyun asks, reaching out toward his friend. “Talk to me!”
Defensively, Jumin takes a few steps back… his elbow covering his mouth as he hunches over. Willing himself to stop coughing and to breathe through this.
“Is he sick?” Rika inquires, looking at Jumin, watching his movements.
“I don’t think so.” Jihyun replies. His concern is evident in his voice and etched on his face. “Jumin… –!”
The heir takes in a gasping breath and manages to say, “I must go…” before turning on his heel.
Rika frowns as she looks down at the small flowers that have fallen at her feet. She takes in the delicateness of them… the softness… their shade of blue.
i never finished it. but i'll post what i have written so far here
for fun.
absolutely 🔞. minors do not interact.
this isn't beta'd or anything because i don't have anyone to go through my bad writing for me,... and i would rather not proofread shit or i'll be here for hours soooo 🤷♂️ oh well.
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“Jihyun. . .” the heir purrs; desire evident in the smooth, deep tone of his voice. Grey eyes slightly darkened by arousal as he takes in the sight of his boyfriend pinned down to the mattress underneath him, and the way the photographer’s cheeks are flushed a deep pink, the rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest, and the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips… along with the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.
“Christ. You’re beautiful.” He continues. One of his calloused hands skim across Jihyun’s clothed chest; the soft fabric gentle and soothing, much like the man who was wearing it.
The fact that his boyfriend still remains dressed - and how disappointing it is - remains hidden from Jumin’s face, for he knows that, in due time, he’ll have the chance to undress his love all meticulous and slow-like.
At the moment, Jumin prefers to become acquainted with Jihyun in this intimate way.
Though they had been friends for over twenty years, never once had the heir ever thought that a scenario such as this would ever become a reality, despite the various times he’d imagined it. A dream he had buried deep within him - tangling his thoughts, his heart, for as long as he could remember. . .
It felt like a dream.
He was Jumin Han, after all. He thought himself a mutant for the way he’d occasionally find himself thinking about his best friend in such a way. . .
the night beginning with his boyfriend pinned down by holding his wrists above his head on their queen-sized bed. The heir between the photographer’s legs as he hovered over him. So close to touching in such intimate ways but actually not because he wouldn’t want the encounter to end so soon.
And the noises - oh the noises - that he imagined that would come from Jihyun’s lips would always send Jumin tumbling over the edge.
A tiny, soft whimper comes from Jihyun, and Jumin is pulled from his thoughts.
The heir can’t help but smirk. “Are you enjoying this?”
He watches as his boyfriend nods his head yes, and relishes the way it’s accompanied by a soft, low moan.
How interesting it is to see Jihyun begin to come undone with just a simple touch to clothed skin. Jumin was well-aware that his lover was a sensitive soul, but he hadn’t the slightest clue that he’d be so sensitive to touch, too.
His roaming hand continues its travel along Jihyun’s chest; his thumb accidentally grazing across one of his love’s nipples, and he’s rewarded with an arch of the back into his touch and a moan that’s quite audible.
The reaction sends a shiver down Jumin’s spine - arousal beginning to pool in his lower abdomen from the sound.
“Hm.” He hums before repeating the action, and being rewarded with a hitched breath and another arch of Jihyun’s back off of the bed. “You’re sensitive here.”
“Uh huh. . .” is the photographer’s reply as he licks his lips. His cloudy, mint-colored eyes are closed at the moment, as the heir had requested. Not that it bothers him - oh no. He’d have trouble seeing Jumin regardless, given that his eyes were still deteriorating after Rika’s assault on him.
But Jumin had advised him to close his eyes and just listen to the heir’s voice. And that when one sense is blocked off, all the others become more heightened - a fact that Jihyun knew all too well. Truly.
If things become too much, please tell me, Jihyun. I want you to enjoy this as much as I will.
“Is this all right?” The heir inquires as his thumb brushes against Jihyun’s nipple for a third time.
Yet before the photographer can reply, he can feel Jumin’s index finger and thumb take hold of his nipple through the fabric of his shirt and give it a slight pinch
and the gasp the tumbles from Jihyun's now slackened jaw is one of the prizes of the night.
Jumin hopes there will be many more to come.
A deep chuckle before the heir says, “I take that as a yes.”
Jihyun’s hands fumble for the sheet on the bed, and he balls his hands into fists as he holds on to the fabric tightly. The pleasure coursing through his body as Jumin teases him in such a slow manner makes him whine softly. Yet he doesn’t want Jumin to pick up the pace
nor does it seem like he will any time soon.
I want to take my time with you, Jihyun. I want to learn you as I have since we’ve met. Slowly. With time and patience. So we have a mutual understanding and agreement.
Little did Jihyun know, however, was just how quick he’d be to arouse while under Jumin’s touch. There were still layers of clothes to be discarded
and yet the tautness of his pants was obvious - to the photographer, anyway.
Jumin had yet to press closer to him in such a way that would make him feel his love’s growing need.
Another - louder - whimper makes Jumin’s lips curve into another smirk, and he releases the pressure of his thumb and forefinger. His hand eventually smoothing down Jihyun's chest.
“. . .Jumin.”
A gentle cry of his name - it’s like music to the heir’s ears. “What is it, my love?”
“Need you. Please.”
And the please is accentuated by a slight roll of his hips and another whimper as he’s left without the friction he’s so desperately seeking.
Jumin can’t say he’s all that surprised by Jihyun’s arousal, as it had been a long time coming to get to this point between them -
with their flirtations months after they began living together
and the line of friendship shifted and blurred to something much more than that. . .
If Jumin hadn’t pulled back - hadn’t hesitated and thought that it was just him that was falling deeper, feeling deeper
they would have reached this point many moons ago.
Perhaps to the point where Jihyun wouldn’t have lost his sight. And Jumin wouldn’t have felt as though he was drifting apart from his best friend. . .
. . .the heir pushes those thoughts from his mind. There’s no use thinking about the what-ifs or what-could-have-beens.
What matters the most is that they made it here. Together.
He swallows. “Not yet.” And dips his head down, close to his lover’s neck and breathes him in. Oh, how he loves the floral, yet earthy tone that is solely Jihyun.
Though he does not care much for the tobacco scent that sometimes overpowers the softer smells, he’s gotten used to it after being in such close proximity, and he knows it’s just yet another scent of Jihyun’s that he’s come to find comfort in since they’ve been living together.
Jumin exhales a hot breath against the other's neck and delights in the way his love shivers slightly.
As if he could read the heir’s mind, Jihyun tilts his head ever so slightly to the opposite side, effectively exposing as much skin as he possibly can to Jumin.
And Jumin chuckles. “Impatient, are we?” His nose brushes the flesh along Jihyun’s neck which, in turn, causes the photographer’s breath to hitch once more.
“Yes.”
The response is immediate, and can only be described as whiny.
“Mmm.” The heir responds; a moan under his breath. “And here I always thought you had the patience of a saint. You are a photographer, after all. Do you not have to wait for the perfect moment to capture the best shot…?”
Jumin takes another breath in through his nose before brushing his lips against Jihyun’s neck, and his reward is a gasped moan from the man underneath him.
The photographer can feel the heat of his love’s lips spread through him like a wildfire. He’s never been so aroused in his life. “I - I. . .”
cannot think straight. need you now. have been waiting so long for this.
“You what, Jihyun?” The words are spoken between multiple soft, gentle, closed-mouth kisses up and down his neck.
“. . .Please-!”
It’s all he can manage to say at the moment, for he’s so caught up in all that he’s feeling that he can do nothing but beg and plead for something more than touches above clothing. More than just gentle kisses along his neck.
But Jumin isn’t having it.
“Please, what?” And he kisses his way up along the photographer’s neck, until his nose brushes against his ear, and he whispers, “Tell me what you need, Jihyun.”
“-You. I need you.” His words come out as a ragged gasp. Jumin’s voice so low in his ear has him trembling and releasing his grip of the sheets and fumbling to seek out the heir - any part of him at this point. He needs to feel Jumin in more ways than one.
A hum of approval escapes the heir as Jihyun’s fingers manage to thread through his hair and give it a slight tug. Whether the photographer meant the action or not was a question Jumin would ask later. For now, however, all he knows is that he doesn’t mind it, and he wants his lover to do it again.
Yet he won’t verbalize his desire right now. No - this was Jihyun’s time. After all he’d gone through in his twenty-seven years of living, and all the times he had put others first. . . Jumin wanted this moment to be about Jihyun’s pleasure.
Of course, his boyfriend’s pleasure was much his own. Knowing that he was the one making Jihyun feel aroused and make those noises unabashed for him was pleasurable in itself, and aroused him so. And if he were to focus on himself, the heir would realize just how uncomfortable his boxer-briefs and form-fitting dress pants were becoming as his length hardened within them.
Opening his mouth slightly, he lets out a breath of air as his mouth begins to descend along his love’s neck - open-mouthed kisses this time as he makes a trail to the top of Jihyun’s t-shirt, where his collarbone was visible. He presses his mouth around the flesh and bone then proceeds to suck gently.
“Ju - min!” The photographer cries out in pleasure. His hardened length throbs and he knows the tip is leaking precum against his boxers. His fingers curl even more into Jumin’s hair and he tugs a bit harder, earning a low growl that’s stifled due to the heir’s mouth being occupied at the moment. “I can't - I can’t take much more. . .”
Certainly not if Jumin is capable of making noises such as that. Holy hell, Jihyun thinks to himself. Who knew the heir had such an animalistic side of him and could produce such a noise? Who knew it would go straight through him and down to his aching hardness?
Jumin reluctantly releases his hold on the photographer’s skin and collarbone, pulling back with an audible sigh. However, he is pleased to see the pink tint to where he was sucking on -what he would give to make sure that it would deepen in color; a visible mark where he had claimed his love - a proof of his own love and feeling for the turquoise-haired man beneath him.
“Are you close to coming?”
Leave it to Jumin to be as blunt and straightforward as possible, even at a time like this.
“Yes-!” Jihyun gasps out. “Please touch me. Anywhere. Fuck me. I need to feel you, my love.”
He’s begging at this point, which makes Jumin all the more aroused. It is then that he feels the arousal coursing through his veins; the throb of his fully hardened length pressing uncomfortably against his dress pants.
And the thought of fucking his boyfriend - rough, with wrists tied to the bedposts - has Jumin groaning. “I won’t fuck you, Jihyun,” he whispers huskily as he moves his head from the other’s neck. He shifts himself so he’s able to press the lower half of his body against Jihyun’s, causing the photographer to moan loudly at the friction it caused. “I’d much prefer to continue to take my time. I want you to cum for me, over and over. . .”
and a moan escapes his own lips as he feels his love roll his hips against him. “If you’re not careful. . .you’ll cum too soon and make more of a mess than I intend to make.”
With that, he moves once more - this time up and back away from Jihyun, and the turquoise-haired man lets out a loud noise of complaint at the loss.
“I never pegged you as the impatient type,” he says, moving his hands to the hem of the photographer’s shirt so he can lift it up and over his love’s head. “How long have you wanted this?”
“Too long.” Jihyun blurts out as he sits up and eases out of his shirt. Goosebumps spread across the exposed flesh of his chest, torso, and arms as the temperature difference between the warmth of arousal and the air to the room are quite different. “. . .Much too long,” he whispers as he lies back down on the plush bed.
A rare, tender smile curls Jumin’s lips before he leans down in order to capture his boyfriend’s lips in a kiss that is slow, meaningful, and they both cannot help but to moan within it - each of them swallowing the other's sound.
The heir ends the kiss with soft pecks to his lover’s lips before pulling back and maneuvering himself into a position that would make it easiest for him to strip Jihyun from his pants.
As for Jihyun - his hands fall onto the bed and he inhales a sharp breath at the feeling of Jumin’s own hands oh so close to where he desperately needs to be touched and he whimpers over the fact that he’s not getting the touch that he desires most. “I’m sorry,” he says gently. “We’ll build up to this. . .”
And Jumin finds himself chuckling; his motions stalling for a moment. “It is quite all right, my love. As long as you’re enjoying yourself and enjoying this.” And with that, he begins to work the other out of his pants.
Jumin had always thought Jihyun was a very attractive man. But now. . . with the photographer stripped down to his boxers, the heir had to take the time to appreciate just how beautiful, angelic even, the other was.
From the top of his disheveled hair to the tips of his toes - Jihyun was breathtaking.
“Beautiful.” He murmurs as he crawls back between the man’s thighs, resting his hands upon each of the other's hips.
A silence rests over them for a moment before the turquoise-haired man softly inquires, “Even the scars? . . .The tattoo?”
“Yes.” The answer is immediate. “Every inch of you is beautiful to me. . .”
I may not be able to undo the past, but you are my present, Jihyun.
“. . .We can do something about the tattoo, if you’d like. After a visit with Dr. Lee about your eyes.”
Jihyun nods, and says quietly, “All right.”
“Look at me, Jihyun.” It’s a hushed request that is obliged, and grey eyes focus on the cloudy mint-colored hues of his boyfriend’s - remembering that once, long ago, when asked, the heir would proclaim that that same color, though more vibrant at the time, were his favorite color.
And he swallows, knowing full well that Jihyun had trouble seeing him, despite them being so close in proximity. He reaches one hand up so he can cup Jihyun’s cheek, and he smiles gently as he feels his love press into his touch.
“I love you,” Jihyun’s voice is soft, gentle, as he speaks. He turns his head in the heir’s hand so he can place a gently kiss to his lover’s palm. An act that has Jumin’s breath hitching, while the turquoise-haired man hums softly. “So much.”
“And I, you,” the heir replies, regaining his composure quickly. He hadn’t the slightest idea that such a simple action could have such an effect on him, and he's grateful that his boyfriend doesn’t explore it further.
There will be plenty of time for Jihyun to learn all of Jumin another time. For this moment was all about the photographer and his pleasure. . .
The heir moves his hand and places it on Jihyun’s hip once more, thumbs hooking around the top of the other's boxers. “May I?”
“Please do.”
And he does, almost agonizingly slow. Feeling the warmth of Jihyun’s skin on his own as he frees him from the confines of his boxers, and allows it to join the rest of the photographer’s clothes in a neat pile on the floor beside the bed.
The turquoise-haired man shivers from the contrast of the warmth of his body and the temperature of the room. “This is truly what you want, Jumin?”
He raises an eyebrow at the question, and his head tilts slightly to the side. “Shouldn’t I be the one inquiring? You’re currently stripped completely bare. . .”
The photographer’s cheeks flush red at that. “. . .You should be, too.”
“Soon.” Jumin states firmly. “Right now, this is all about you. Allow me to be greedy - like this.” One of his hands slides across Jihyun’s sides, causing the man to shiver again, and he lets out a soft sigh.
When his other hand grips the photographer’s hip, however, he’s rewarded with a hitched breath. “Good. Let me hear you, Jihyun. I want to know how you feel. Vocalize your pleasure as best you can, or inform me that an adjustment is needed.”
“O - Okay. . .” is his breathy reply to Jumin’s wants, and the heir is pleased - as evident by the upward curve of his lips.
Jumin’s hand that's roaming across Jihyun’s side begins to descend lower: down the side, across his hip bone, and along the flesh of his thigh, and the heir is delighted to hear his boyfriend’s breath come in soft pants as he allows a soft breathy whines tumble from his lips.
“That’s it. . .” Jumin encourages; allowing a low moan to escape from his own slightly parted lips, and his tongue quickly darts out to wet it. “Moan for me.”
And Jihyun does just that.
“I love the sounds you’re making.” Though Jumin would never admit it aloud, they were much better than any his mind had conjured up when he imagined Jihyun coming undone for him.
And he had never imagined the turquoise-haired man would react so positively to his praises, for out of the corner of his eye, the heir notices his boyfriend’s hardened length twitch at the praise; precum leaking from the tip and coating it a bit. “God, Jihyun,” he praises; voice thick. He wets his lips once again and swallows thickly.
He ghosts his roaming hand over the other’s length, and he’s rewarded by a roll of the hips - a desperate attempt for the touch. . .for the release that Jihyun needs. “J -Ju...min.”
“What is it, love? Tell me.”
As grateful as the heir is whenever Jihyun voiced his wants, needs, or desires - because he knew the photographer had trouble doing so -
he’d always imagined him unable to form coherent words because he was too worked up. It was one (of many) desires that the heir thought of whenever he needed release. He hopes to have that same effect on Jihyun at some point during this intimate exchange between them.
“I need to come.” The photographer whined. Hips still slowly rolling, pressing up against Jumin’s hand that was now stilled and hovering over his throbbing, aching length.
At that admission, Jumin presses himself against Jihyun once again; allowing the photographer to feel just how much he needed him, too. He maneuvers himself in such a way where he’s able to slip his hand around Jihyun’s aching length with ease and stroke firmly, and he relishes the sounds that tumble from the other's mouth - whines and sighs and moans and panted breathing; a melodic symphony to Jumin’s ears - all for him, and because of him.
He cannot help but feel proud. Greedy. Yet as much as he wants more, he knows that Jihyun is near his peak.
At least the first, Jumin hopes. He isn't sure how many climaxes Jihyun would be able to reach, but he's more than willing to find out.
“Come for me.” It's certainly more of a command than a request; a low growl that seems as though it was made wholly for Jihyun’s ears.
And oh, does the photographer do just as he is told. Back arching slightly off the mattress as his climax takes hold - a high-pitched moan of relief escapes him as he comes in spurts across his lower abdomen, and a bit on Jumin’s hand. Lingering whimpers as Jumin continues to stroke him even while his length becomes flaccid.
“Good.” The heir says simply, then ceases his ministrations. A smirk curves his lips as his eyes take in all of the photographer now… the way his chest and face are flushed pink. The hair matted to his forehead from sweat. The heavy breathing and the way his chest rises and falls with each breath.
And he can't help but to moan - low and deep - at the sight. If things were to end here, Jumin would be more than satisfied. The smirk on his lips shift to a soft, tender smile that he reserves just for his boyfriend. “Are you alright, my love?”
Jihyun licks his lips as he nods sleepily. “. . .Yes.” And he takes a moment to swallow. “Yes, I’m fine.”
The heir knows that the other is being honest and sincere, and not just saying he is in order to make Jumin more comfortable with their coupling. “I love you.”
The photographer relaxes against the bed. “I love you, too. . .”
And the photographer feels the heir release his length, which falls to rest against his lower abdomen - while his mint eyes watch as Jumin pulls back and kneels between his legs before bringing the hand that was wrapped around his once hardened length up to his lips
and begin lick the essence that was left behind.
Jihyun gasps just as Jumin moans. He wasn't prepared for such a sight, nor would he have ever imagined such a thing would occur or how erotic it would be to see it.
Jumin, on the other hand, had imagined doing such a thing before. Tasting Jihyun was just one of many fantasies he’s had over time, though he never could imagine just how the photographer tasted. . .
better than the finest of red wines.
The turquoise-haired man swallowed thickly; arousal beginning to flow through his veins once more. Is this normal? he finds himself wondering, though he keeps it to himself for the time being. He watches, still, as Jumin pulls his hand away from his lips and tongue - a sure sign that he's cleaned his hands and fingers of the photographer’s essence.
Silently, Jumin brings that hand, along with his other one, to the first button of his work jacket and oh so slowly begins to undo them - one
by
one.
And he hears Jihyun’s breath hitch, which causes his fingers to immediately stop. “We don't have to do this --” the heir says.
“--No.” His boyfriend's response is immediate, and the room falls silent. “I want this. Seeing you taste me on your fingers and then watching you undress so slow. . .”
He cannot seem to find the words to finish his sentence, for he lets out a whimper instead. His length twitching against his abdomen as it begins to harden once more. A moment passes before he says, “Please let me help you.”
His hands reach up and come to rest over Jumin’s - slender fingers finding the button that the heir was just about to undo. A comfortable silence falls over the room as Jihyun undoes the button, allowing the jacket to fall open.
Jumin wastes no time at all; shrugging out of the jacket and allowing it to fall onto the bed behind him. All the while Jihyun’s hands slide up Jumin's chest in order to seek out the first button of Jumin's dress shirt.
“Your impatience is showing again, Jihyun.” There’s amusement in the heir’s tone. “You've completely skipped over my tie.”
Not that he minds, really. It's something he’s able to get undone easily enough. He loosens it and slips it off with ease, and allows it to join his jacket.
“Sorry,” the turquoise-haired man replies softly as he continues to undo the buttons of Jumin’s dress shirt; his fingers slightly trembling as he anticipates what's to come.
"Relax…" the heir says, soothingly. "I'm just teasing…" and his fingers come to rest on Jihyun's to steady them and help in undoing the buttons, then discards it to the floor after he's pushed out of it and he's quickly folded it up. Next comes the tank top he wears underneath it, and he shivers as Jihyun's fingertips roam across his chest and abdomen.
"I want to feel you…." the photographer whispers. "All of you."
Jumin swallows a groan that threatens to escape through his now parted lips, and his breath catches in his throat. His eyes become half-lidded, and though Jihyun may not be able to properly see the other's come hither, I want to be inside of you look … the heir surely hopes he can, at the very least, sense it in the air between them. "As do I, to you." He can only reply through panted breaths.
"Are you becoming impatient, my love?" Jihyun inquires as his hands roam to the top of Jumin's dress slacks. What a shame it was that Jumin wore such tight fitting dress pants, along with a belt. He'd love nothing more than to surprise his boyfriend by reaching down past his slacks and boxer-briefs and grab ahold of his length and stroke him slow.
"Perhaps."
"Please do…" and he moans a little as his fingers meet in the middle of the Heir's belt buckle, fumbling with it a little.
Jumin's silent as he assists Jihyun in unbuckling his pants — shedding the belt off in a swift motion and dropping it to the floor with his pile of clothes so the buckle doesn't clang against the ground and make Jihyun startled. And it isn't long until they both shed Jumin of the clothes that Jihyun wished were gone a long while ago.
The photographer's hand reaches for the Heir's hardened length and he takes it into his hand gently; slowly giving him experimental strokes. He can't help but smile hearing the other curse under his breath and feel the pre-come leak from the tip.
"You're ready."
"God, yes," he says through gritted teeth as he gently places his own fingers under Jihyun's chin to brush his lips against the other's. "Are you?"
Jihyun breathes out, "yes….." as he strokes himself; not truly surprised that he's hard once again for his love.
And Jumin kisses him passionately and deeply as he lays Jihyun back down onto the bed, a groan slipping through the kiss as Jihyun's hand moves away from his aching hardness.
i'm an absolute sucker for first kisses and first scenarios in general so this probably won't be the only one i write. ;)
zhongli is a knowledgeable man but there's some areas where he still needs to learn~.
not really proof-read because if i sit here, i'll scrutinize my writing too much and feel bad about myself and my writing and i don't want those vibes. so, yeah!
——————————————
It had been such a wonderful evening — strolling Liyue Harbor side-by-side with Zhongli. Eating dinner at the Wanmin restaurant and having a chance to chit-chat with Xiangling. Taking in the setting sun along the coastline of the harbor. He'd picked a wonderful flower along your stroll and had tucked it behind your ear with gentle care and cheeks tinted a slight pink.
You didn't want the evening to end. Despite knowing that you'll be able to see him at some point the following day, this time with him was so precious and dear to you — and you hoped that he felt the same.
Was it a date? You weren't sure. Neither of you actually saying the word aloud when the evening was planned, but, to you at the very least, it could certainly constitute as one. You were a bit hesitant to ask.
"Cor Lapis for your thoughts." You hear him say, and you turn your head enough to see him glancing at you.
You'd stopped your walking and were now standing on a bridge close to where you had decided to stay while in Liyue Harbor. You prop your arms up on the rail and lean against them. Your gaze moves from him and out to the ocean before you. "Just taking in the view of the harbor at night. It's beautiful."
You feel his body next to yours, though you do not know that he mimics your stance; arms, too, resting upon the rail of the bridge to take in the sight. "I must agree in regards to its beauty, but it is far incomparable to yours."
Your cheeks warm and you know for certain it's not due to the temperature. You quickly turn your head for fear of Zhongli seeing the blush his sweet words caused. "I'm not so sure about that," you reply. "If anything, the whole of Liyue is as beautiful and handsome as you."
A blush colors his own cheeks, though he does not turn his face nor gaze away, still staring out at the sea. "Did you enjoy yourself tonight?"
You nod and, once you feel the heat leave your cheeks, turn to look at him. "I did. Very much so. I always enjoy spending time with you, Zhongli."
And I hate for the days to end, you think. "How about you?"
He pivots his body so one arm rests against the bridge while the other comes to rest at his side. Amber eyes take note of the way your hair is untucked and he fights the urge to tuck it back behind your ear. to gently brush his slender fingers across the hair close to your forehead, a simple gesture he thinks would be affectionate. tender. delicate.
But perhaps a bit too much; not suited for the friendship between the two of you if he were to do it for a second time that evening.
"It was exquisite, as all my time is with you." A smile curves his lips. "This day will be one of the very many I will come to cherish in my memory."
You smile in kind. "You make it sound as if this was an important day."
"Oh, but it is."
Your head tilts ever so slightly as slight confusion flits your features. "Oh? Why's that?"
"It is simple. I thoroughly enjoy your company."
As a friend, you finish what you believe to be the unspoken words between the ones he had said. Your smile fades slightly, which Zhongli takes note of.
"...I apologize if that's not what you were hoping to hear." He says.
"No, no—" and you feel your cheeks burn again. Your blush reaching the tip of your ears this time. "—I enjoy your company too, really! I had a great time tonight! It's just that I..." and your voice trails off.
I don't want it to end.
I want to know what we are.
I want to know how you feel about me.
"...I think the events of the day has tired me out," you say after a moment. It wasn't a lie, per se, but you couldn't just blurt out the thoughts that crossed your mind.
"Shall we continue on then? I'd much rather have you safe in the comfort of where you're staying than to have you decide you're settling in on this bridge tonight."
With a soft sigh that you had hoped he did not hear, you move from against the bridge and prepare to finish the walk to your destination.
Zhongli follows suit, though there's something about your demeanor that tugs at him in much the wrong way.
He's the one to break the silence. "Would you like to accompany me to an opera tomorrow? Miss Yun Jin will be performing, and it would be an honor and a pleasure to have you be my plus one for the evening. We can dine at The Third-Round Knockout this time prior to the show."
"Of course~!" The chance to spend another evening with him lifts your mood a bit, but you still wished that the current one wasn't coming to an end. "It's a da—y..."
Good Celestia above. You silently scold yourself for the word that almost came out of your mouth.
Zhongli cannot help but to let out a quiet laugh, unbeknownst to him what, exactly, you were trying to say. "Yes, tomorrow is quite certainly a day. As is each that comes after nightfall."
And you roll your eyes a little as you smile softly. "Yeah..."
Comfortable silence falls between the two of you; only the sound of footsteps reaching your ears. As much as you wanted to slow your pace to allow more time, you knew that would be an odd thing to suddenly do. And so, you bite the bullet and continue to walk until...
"We're here.. ," you sigh out, stopping in front of the entryway of the building you're staying inside. You turn to face Zhongli. "Thank you again for tonight."
"It was my pleasure," he says with a smile and soft eyes. There's something within them, as though he's thinking about something, but you're not quite sure what it could be.
"I cannot help but notice you seem rather disappointed."
His comment throws you off guard. Sometimes, he's so scarily able to read you like an open book as though he has taken the time to study you over the time you've known each other.
"No, no— not at all!" You smile wide as you wave your hands in front of you, shaking your head. "Trust me, I really had a great time! Nothing to be disappointed over!"
"... I must admit," he begins, watching as you lower your arms back down to your side; the smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes still upon your features. "that I harbor some disappointment at this evening needing to come to an end. Tragically, tomorrow is never a guarantee, and, thus, I would like the night to linger on for as long as time allows. I..."
I wish I could stay.
He swallows before continuing. "—If this should be our last night together, know that it, much as you, will shine in my memories."
You want so much to reach up on tiptoes to place your hand upon his cheek to comfort him. One hand practically twitching to do so. Instead, your gaze and smile turn a bit sad. You understand where he's coming from — he has lived for so long, seen friends come and go,... much before their time. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll see you tomorrow."
And yet, you make no movements to head inside. Just as he makes no movement to leave the spot in front of you.
"Zhongli—" you say, just as you hear him say your own name at the same time. Both of your eyes locked on the other's.
He is the first to move; taking a step forward to close any gap between you. "Forgive me. I am aware this isn't outlined in the terms of our contract, but... as I have mentioned once before, contracts cannot be used to measure sentiment. However, I believe I have come up with such a thing that can measure the weight of emotions..."
A gloved hand comes to rest upon your cheek. "At the very least, my own." His thumb grazes your cheek tender and smoothly. "May I kiss you?" His voice is just as soft as his touch as he gazes at you, awaiting an answer.
"Y—Yes, that's fine..." your voice a bit shakey. You hadn't expected him to request to kiss you. But you knew that friends bid farewell with kisses on the cheek quite often...
except you felt his other gloved hand tilt your head up slightly by your chin, and watched for just a moment as he leaned down and in,
your eyes fluttering closed before feeling his lips on your own. feeling his thumb still gently grazing your cheek.
Slow and reluctant to part, Zhongli pulls away enough to allow you both to breathe.
"May I ask... just what are we?" You whisper while opening your eyes to look at him inquisitively.
"Back long ago, I would overhear the common folk call this... courting. Perhaps you know it better as the more recent term of... dating."
And now you look at him with bright doe-like eyes; wide and surprised. "Wait—!"
At such a look you've given him, he can't help but to lean back away from you a bit. Had he done something wrong? He's puzzled, and gives a thoughtful look. One hand comes back to rest by his side while the other goes to his own chin. "Is this not how it works? By dining and taking strolls, enjoyment of one's company? Mutual attraction and flirtations...?"
"You knew?"
"Well, of course. I have been around for a long time. I have seen many blossoming romances in Liyue, between humans... between adepti, and illuminated beasts. Yet judging by your expression, I cannot help but wonder if I have missed a step or two."
A laugh escapes you. "Most people share feelings and tell the other how they feel, and then ask to date — er, court them, and kiss!"
He frowns. "I thought my feelings had been obvious for quite some time." Recounting that he made sure to have enough mora on him to pay for your meals. enough stories to last the long days you spent together. He had even gone so far as to request a local storyteller to tell a tale of romance between two people...
"I am not accustomed to romantic relationships, and I do apologize for not vocalizing more these feelings I have for you. Though know that I am not laying out any sort of contract with you, with this... for again, it cannot measure the weight of emotions,"
He reaches out a hand, and you accept it in one of your own, and feel his other come to rest on top as your fingers interlace. His gaze, soft and full of admiration, looks over your features — gone are the wide eyes of surprise, but he can still tell that you are by your body language. a curious glint to your eyes.
"But know that the feelings I have for you are immeasurable. Not a day goes by where my thoughts do not drift to you while we are apart. And the time we spend together is worth more than any gold that runs through Liyue's heart..."
A squeeze of your hand as he continues. "If the feeling is mutual, I would like to formally 'ask you out'. It would be an honor to 'date' such a wonderful person as you, for so long as you wish. In all of my time in Liyue, I have seen less than fortunate outcomes in romantic relationships and thus would not wish to have you burden yourself with a contract that you may want to end."
You gaze at the man so fondly before reaching up to grab his tie — curling it around your hand and pulling him in for another kiss that he melts into. eyes closed, lips parting... not the same type of chaste kiss he'd just given you.
This was an affirmation; a definite reply to how you very much would like to date, be courted with this gentleman, with marriage, hopefully, in the future.
You part wish soft pants still close to his lips as you whisper, "I've been waiting for you to ask... I've been waiting for this."
"As have I," he replies, just as breathless. He remembers all the times he's been kissed and has kissed others (it hasn't been a lot, surprisingly for his age) but none have had him feeling so loved, so adored, so wanting to spend the whole night kissing you. "The next time something of this nature comes up, I'll be certain to express it to you."
"Please do. I'd love to know what you're thinking and feeling, Zhongli...."
He pauses a moment before brushing his lips against yours. "I'm feeling... disappointed that our day has come to an end."
"Me too..." your voice sounds as disappointed as he is, and, truth be told, you are, too. "But I'll see you tomorrow."
He nods before slowly pulling away from you; your hand releasing its grip on his tie.
His hand on your cheek finally takes a rest at his side and you feel the chill of the air compared to the warmth of his hand and you miss it already.
"Yes, tomorrow...." he takes in a breath. "It's a date."
And you can't help the giddiness that bubbles up inside as you wish each other goodnight.
here's a juminv / vumin thing i began writing for one of the juminv weeks on here. i think it was the first one and the prompt was proposal.
eventually this thing was going to make it there but ..... it didn't yet lol.
sexual intimacy is hinted at but not described. i guess this would receive like a tv14 rating or something. who knows.
and who knows if they'll ever reach the proposal lmao.
————————————
As the sunlight comes in through the blinds, Jumin knows that it’s time to get out of bed. A shame, really… for he’s comfortable at the moment. With one arm draped across Jihyun’s waist; their bodies molded together as they rested on their sides. The heir’s face close to the back of his neck.
He’s warm in this position. Being a man who generally has a low body temperature, he gets cold rather easily. It’s one of the few reasons why he wears so many layers of clothing. But now, underneath a blanket and curled against his significant other – to put it simply, he doesn’t want to move.
Especially since Jihyun is still sleeping soundly.
Yet with the light of a new and, rather important, day dawning, he knows that he must get up and, at the very least, close the blinds, lest it wake his love. And he certainly wouldn’t want that.
With a soft sigh, he ever so gently nuzzled his nose against the back of Jihyun’s neck and inhaled the subtle scent of lavender lingering from his shower last night. The scent is calming and soothing, and soft. Much like the man himself. And he smiles.
Then slowly and cautiously, he uncurls himself from his loves’ side, shivering slightly as he loses that contact with him and as the blankets shift a little with his movement. There’s always tonight to rest beside him, he thinks. It’s one of Jumin’s favorite things to do, admittedly. Certainly after a long, hard day at work.
Once he’s out of bed, he makes his way to the windows and begins closing the blinds and the curtains, all the while keeping an eye on Jihyun to make sure that he’s still sleeping. Which he is, as indicated by the soft snore he lets out – but not before rolling over and shifting a bit closer to the spot where Jumin had just left.
He’d always done that, the heir noticed. And when inquired about it, the response he received was, maybe it was my subconscious missing you beside me.
As he remembered, he smiles a little more. Hoping that what he has planned would be sufficient enough, and that the other wouldn’t have to miss him next to him in bed… for a little while, at least.
And he tip-toed his way to his closet, pulling out one of his many three-piece suits, then gathered his undergarments and a pair of socks to change into for the day, before making his way out of the bedroom and into one of the many bathrooms in his penthouse so he could take a shower and freshen up.
He had to look his best, after all. Even though Jihyun quite liked it when he dressed casual – today was going to be anything but.
It had to be right. Perfect. Fitting for his Spring Prince, or so he nicknamed him. (To which Jihyun replied by calling him Winter Prince, and Jumin certainly doesn’t mind.)
What better way to begin the day with breakfast. It was the most important meal of the day, after all, and shortly after Jumin gets changed, he enters the kitchen to begin making Jihyun’s favorite.
“Mm. Smells good in here.”
Jihyun’s voice startles Jumin – having been so focused on finishing up breakfast before he had woken up, and knowing that there was an aspect of the day that had not gone according to plan makes him a little upset.
His eyes flick up from the frying pan on the stove and he can’t help but to take in the sight of the man on the other side of the half-wall that separated the kitchen from the dining area.
Jihyun stood there; shoulder-length, turquoise hair pulled back into a messy bun, black glasses framing his teal eyes… dressed in a pair of black yoga pants that rode low on the hips (exposing a few marks that made Jumin smirk a little), and a grey t-shirt that now exposed his lower stomach as he stretched his arms up above his head.
The heir watched, still, as he lowered his arms and rolled his head.
His morning stretches, which meant that he hadn’t been awake for very long. But long enough that Jumin wasn’t finished making them breakfast.
“Sleep well?” Jumin asked as he glanced back at the pan. Making sure that the eggs that he was cooking wouldn’t get burnt.
Though in his mind’s eye, he could clearly see the other’s light blush that colored his cheeks. He knew him well enough by now that certain comments and insinuations could make the other blush a little… or a lot.
“I did…,” Jihyun replies, just a tad embarrassed. Indeed, his cheeks have just the slightest bit of color to them. “Thank you. And you?”
“Yes.” it’s out of his mouth before he has a chance to think about it. Truth be told, Jumin was awake long after he fell asleep. Taking in the moonlight that cast an ethereal glow on him, listening to the soft inhale and exhale of his breath, and brushing his bangs away from his eyes now and then.
He was relieved to know, way back when, that Jihyun didn’t mind him watching him as he slept. It’s comforting, amidst all that’s going on.
When the eggs are finished cooking, Jumin moves the pan from the burner onto a cold one and turns off the stove. “Hungry?”
“A little, yes.” And Jihyun moves closer to the half-wall in order to peek into the kitchen. “Toast and eggs,” he says. “With orange juice and strawberries. What’s the occasion?”
Oh, it’s easy to hide the smile that wants to curve his lips and it’s so easy to stay neutral and expressionless. He mastered it years ago. Despite Jihyun being his emotional exception – he wants to keep this to himself. For the time being, anyway.
“I can’t make breakfast for my Spring Prince on my day off?” His eyebrow arches just a touch as he crosses his arms. A show, really. This slight banter between them is one of the things that had made him fall for Jihyun in the first place.
And the other laughs softly. “It’s just a surprise. The last time you made breakfast, it was for Valentine’s Day, and we both know what happened then.”
The heir relaxes – his arms moving back to his sides as he smirks once again, and making sure he looks pointedly in Jihyun’s direction. “We could recreate that…”
“…I think we did a bit last night.”
“Fair enough.” Now his lips curve into a smile as he picks up a spatula to remove the eggs from the pan and onto the plates that are on the counter nearby. “I do have an idea on how to spend the day –”
“You’re not going to hole yourself up in the office and do work, are you?”
“So long as you’re not going to rush off to your studio and work on developing film from last week.”
Jihyun feigns hurt; his hands clamping over his chest as though he has been wounded. “How dare you accuse me of being the workaholic in this house, Jumin.”
It’s the heir’s turn to chuckle. “I never said that.” And he slips his hands underneath the plates – one on each hand – and carefully carries them from the kitchen and into the dining area, passing Jihyun on the way. “Give me a moment and I’ll grab your juice.”
“You’re too kind.”
“So I’ve been told. Though I’m sure most, if not all, would disagree with you.”
“They just don’t know you like I do.” Jihyun smiles softly in Jumin’s direction, and despite the heir not being able to see it… he can tell by the sound of his voice that he’s smiling.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Their comments cease as they enjoy breakfast together after Jumin retrieves both of their juices. The silence, save for the noise from forks occasionally clanking against the plates, is comfortable.
And when they are finished, it is Jihyun who offers to clean off the table. “You cooked.”
“But you need to get dressed.”
“Are we really going out this early in the morning?”
It was still relatively early in the morning – a bit before quarter to nine. Most of the things that Jumin had planned didn’t begin until after four in the evening. But there were still things that he wanted to do with Jihyun before then.
“Not out, per se.” He says. “I figured we could take a walk in the garden for a bit. Or we could go to the theatre and watch a movie.”
“A walk sounds nice. I can bring my camera.”
“Please do. I’m sure there will be plenty of photo opportunities while we are out today.”
A sly smile curves V’s lips as he slips his arms around Jumin’s waist, head tilted upward slightly. “There’s always a photo opportunity when you’re around.”
At that, Jumin’s cheeks flush slightly. He’s well aware that he’s an attractive man, and he’s heard it many times over. But it was always different when it came from Jihyun. “Thank you,” he responds before placing a small kiss to his forehead. “Now. Go get ready. Wear what you’d like.”
“Can’t I wear this if we aren’t going out?”
“You slept in that. Besides, you’ve a vast array of comfortable clothing that you can slip into. I’d much rather you be in clean and comfortable clothes for the time being.”
“For the time being? You still need to fill me in on what’s going on later.”
Jumin slips his own arms around Jihyun and pulls him in as close as possible. “In due time, my love.” and slowly he releases him, waiting for him to do the same.
Which Jihyun does, albeit with a soft sigh. “Alright. It should only take me a few to get dressed.”
“Take all the time you need,” Jumin replies softly as he reaches up to brush the other’s bangs away from his eyes. “There’s no rush. We wouldn’t want the day to escape us, seeing as I have a flight to catch tomorrow.”
once upon a time, i wrote maya fey things here on tumblah. (a couple of times, actually.)
this is a thing i'd written for a rp blog on the day mia died.
i love and miss writing maya drabbles.
warnings: mentions of blood. mentions of murder. probably pg-13 rating.
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September 5, 2016.
(I just talked to you this morning…)
How cruel Life and Fate could be – drastically changing a person’s life in the matter of hours. They – whoever they are, the medium isn’t sure – say that you’re given things that you’re able to handle.
…But she can’t handle this.
(I didn’t even get the chance to tell you that I love you…)
The last words she’d said to her sister were see ya soon! Of course, she couldn’t have predicted that something like this would’ve happened but she still regrets not telling her until it was too late.
Over Mia’s dead body.
From the moment she’d stepped into the Fey & Co. Law Offices around 9 that night, there was something about the atmosphere that just didn’t feel right… the darkness was a bit unsettling –
(Maybe Sis’ still in that pre-trial meeting…)
In an instant, the thought was replaced with fear the moment the scent of blood overwhelmed her.
Panic and fear bubble up in her – a heavy feeling in her stomach and her heart weighs her down as she runs toward her office; toward where the smell is coming from…
And the sight that she sees makes her freeze and it takes everything that she has to not collapse right then and there. A trembling hand comes up and covers her mouth, hot tears rolling down her cheeks immediately.
“S–Sis!”
There’s no concept of time – of life – in the room. Seeing Mia slumped under the window, lifeless… there’s pieces of Maya’s heart that she can feel leave her body and soul.
It takes what little strength she has left to tell her legs to move.
Her knees hit the floor beside her sister hard but she doesn’t feel it – she’s much too numb to feel anything else but her broken heart.
“Sis…! Wake up…! P–Please wake up!” the words are spoken between choked gasping sobs and she doesn’t want to – simply cannot believe the worst.
(I can’t lose you, too–!)
But as much as she wants this to be just some horrific nightmare, conjured up by one of her greatest fears – being abandoned –
The blood that’s matted into her sister’s hair, along with the shards of broken glass from the light stand scattered around the floor, and the odd clock on the floor on the other side of Mia’s body tells her that this is her reality.
That her sister has been murdered.
“Sis…”
So consumed by her grief, the sound of her own sobbing filling her ears, the medium doesn’t realize that there’s another person in the room. Not until she hears
“Who are you?”
It sounds so distant despite brown eyes noticing him standing there; close by her sister’s feet on opposite side of where she is kneeling. The question echoes in her mind – oh she desperately wants to ask him the same thing …
(Who are you? Why are you here? Do you know my sister?)
Using the last of her strength, she slowly stands – but her body and spirit and mind are in such a state of shock and his inquiry had startled her so much that she faints…
Time is still nonexistent as she wakes; finding herself upon a sofa. Through her blurry vision, she’s able to make out that she’s still at the Fey & Co. Law Offices.
(Sis…)
Scorching tears descend down her cheeks, mingling in with the ones that have already dried; and she knows that she hasn’t cried this much since before Pearl was born.
Once again she’s startled – this time by a creaking sound that she recognizes as someone taking a step into the waiting area of the office and her reaction is quick… turning herself toward the sound, her eyes spotting him again.
When he speaks, his voice is soft yet scared and he asks her all of these questions; shows her all of these things and
(Why is he questioning me? Does he think that I did this…? He’s looking at me like I’m the one who….who…–)
Maya doesn’t know just how long they’d been talking before the front door slams open and she clutches – braces – herself so she doesn’t faint once again… so she doesn’t release the fear, the panic, the grief that’s making her stomach flip and flop and nauseating her right now.
There’s too much too much going on both on the outside and inside and she can’t handle it she’s not this strong and why did this have to happen?
“This word "Maya” here mean anything to you?” the question pulls her back to reality, and her eyes flick from the first man that entered the office to the second and she realizes that it must’ve been him that’d asked since he looks like he’s expecting an answer.
“Um… that… That’s my name…” her voice is but a whisper but in the silence it sounds that much louder in her own ears.
It’s no surprise that the other man had heard it to, which had been first confirmed by the shocked WHAAAAT!? he’d exclaimed. It was almost earsplitting to her.
“The victim drew this here note in her own blood, see? With her dying breath, she wrote down the killer’s name!“
She’d felt as though that time had slowed before but now it was as if the whole world had stopped and shattered around her. She’d just lost her sister and now both of these strange men believed that she’d done it!? Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at the bigger man; brown eyes pleading for him to listen to her for a just a moment.
“K-killer…? I’m not–”
He refused. “Case closed! You’re coming down to the precinct, ma'am!”
Before her mind could comprehend just what was going on, she felt someone grab her arms and twist them behind her back, then a cold object being clamped down onto one wrist.. then the other.
Just admit to it. We know that you did it.
Tell us what happened again – and don’t lie to us; we’ll know if you’re lying.
We’ve got one of the city’s best prosecutors’ on this case, so you might as well just admit that you killed your sister. Better that you admit it rather than embarrassing yourself in front of the court, missy.
There’s so many voices, so many words, so many looks in her minds eye as she sits – knees drawn up against her chest, fingers resting against her knees but curled up and clutching the fabric of her acolyte sleeves, eyes shut tightly trying to cease the trembling and shaking of her body as she chokes against her sobs – in the jail cell. Her jail cell.
With her dying breath, she wrote down the killer’s name!
(W-why!? Why would she write my name?)
(She said she wanted me to keep some evidence for her…. if I’d only arrived earlier…! Then maybe… this wouldn’t have happened.)
“…I’m so sorry, Sis…”
Sleep eludes Maya that night – too terrified of what her dreams will conjure up. Much too frightened at the thought of what tomorrow will bring.
Her biggest fear of being abandoned made a reality…
written for the @/mysmecircuszine (under a different pen name. this one far less creative than that. hehe. my first time being featured in a zine!... and probably my last lol.)
mc uses they/them pronouns!
it is my hope that you enjoy photographer V and circus mime MC (who are also performance artists in an act together~) ♡
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When they’re all dressed up like this — a black and white horizontal-striped shirt, black dress pants and black shoes,their faces painted snow-white while there are thick lines of black in a diamond shape around the eyes, their lips painted black as well —they’re supposed to be in character, strict orders courtesy of Ringmaster Han. Be silent. Look and play the part. Make the audience laugh at their antics of being stuck in an invisible box. Play tug-of-war with an invisible rope and invisible co-star.
“You can do that act alone, MC. The audience will need laughter for this. Besides, V and yourself will have the opportunity to elicit other emotions from the attendees during your partnered acrobalance act.”
“Of course, Ringmaster Han."
And they remain silent as they stand on the stage inside of the Big Top; the hot lights that shine above cause them to sweat a little. It’s not a new sensation, really… it occurs each time they practice their performance.
But right now, there’s no one to test their act for, as the seats are empty. They’d never really taken notice of just how many seats and how many rows there were. It was like a never ending sea.
“MC?”
There is, however, one other person on the stage with them.
“Sorry…” they say softly, though their voice seems to echo in the emptiness of the tent. Quite unused to speaking while dressed like this. “What did you say, V?”
There is a camera in his hands that he lowers from his line of sight, and he gives MC a smile. “You don’t have to apologize,” and he lets out a soft chuckle. “And it’s alright to talk, you know. There’s no one here but us.”
They return his soft smile and exhale. “I wish I was dressed for our act. I’d feel more comfortable.”
“Ah. In time, we’ll be able to take our promotional pictures together. I’m even thinking of bringing Rui in for them so we’re able to be mid-performance.”
“That sounds like fun~.” MC’s smile grows as they turn just a bit to face him more.
“Wait… hold that.” He says, quickly bringing his camera back up to take a photograph. “Perfect. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” They reply, their facial expression becoming neutral again. “Though that won’t work for the promotional flyer. I know I was smiling, and Ringmaster Han would immediately shred it.”
V hums a little to himself. “I suppose you’re right. We’ll keep going, if you want.”
“I think we have to. Won’t the show be opening to the public soon?”
It takes his all not to blush to the tip of his ears. He should have been more careful with his words; he is the co-creator of the Cirque du Mystique, after all. How could he have forgotten that these photos were due sooner rather than later?
It's been more than a year since the plotting and planning of the Circus opening. Finding the right crew to assist in their big day had taken some time, and yet it was quicker than truly anticipated. With Jumin running the auditions for those who were outside of the RFA, he was strict and ruthless when finding just the right people to be part of the show and crew.
V was in attendance of the auditions and interviews the day MC arrived. His seat was next to Jumin and yet when MC took the stage, it was like they were the only person around. Their personality that had shown through in such a simple yet so complex act of tumbling across the stage, some contortions, contemporary dance, and theatrical antics, had captivated him from the start.
“I like them.” V had whispered to Jumin afterwards.
“So do I.”
V just hadn’t realized to what extent he would come to like them, not just as a friend. Nor as just a member of the Circus. Or an eventual co-star of their act.
“...V?”
He shakes his head imperceptibly to collect himself. “Now,” he speaks as if he wasn’t just lost in thought, “are you ready?”
With a nod, MC pivots themselves so their body language isn’t so much towards V but more toward the camera itself, doing their best to be sort of like a model, despite not knowing a thing about modeling whatsoever. It's just a guess.
“Relax.” His voice is just as soft as theirs was when they’d first spoken, though less nervous. It was comforting, just as much as he is to them. “It’s just us.”
They try not to smile again and instead pose in a way where they are shrugging slightly and their arms are in the I don’t know position.
“You can talk while wearing that. In fact, I… would like it if you do.” He swallows back I like your voice, and I’m glad to hear it when I have the chance to.
“Are you sure Ringmaster Han won’t come in to check on us?”
“I promise, MC. Please, try not to be so nervous.”
One deep breath in and out, then another. “Alright.”
Although Jumin entering the Big Top while they are talking dressed as a mime isone of the top concerns MC has at the moment, there is another worry they had -- being there alone with V.
A good majority of the time whenever the two of them crossed paths, there were others around, and they were able to admire and watch him as he fluttered about and mingled with the fellow members of the RFA, as well as the rest of the cast and crew members of the circus.
And when they practiced their act, there would always be someone sitting in the seats — whether it was Rika and Zen, who’d be recovering from their own practices. Even Jumin, on occasion, to make sure everything was perfect for opening day.
Yet their act was so close and so intimate that even Yoosung had asked if V and MC had become smitten with one another at some point. To which the others replied with a laugh and needed to explain that it is their show, and half of the point of their performance.
“Are you sure you want to do something so personal, V?” Jumin inquired when the idea was proposed to him.
“Not everything has to be so serious. I think the audience will be interested in the tale of two people — one develops feelings from afar, while the other remains unaware. An unrequited yearning to be with one another.”
MC wasn’t sure if their co-star could read minds or if they were just that obvious when they moved with him during their performance — when their hand began to linger within movements for just a little bit longer as time grew on, or the way he held them so close it made their heart race and eyes flutter shut even though they were supposed to lock eyes with him.
A few clicks of the camera’s shutter is heard as MC tries out various poses in regard to their act. “Do you think they’re coming out good?”
“Oh, yes.” Even if they weren’t, he truly didn’t mind. He’d purchased a special memory card for this. “I’m certain a lot of them are phenomenal. You’re a great model, MC.”
They’re grateful their face is painted with professional makeup or else he’d be able to see the blush that colors their cheeks. “You’re such a charmer.” They say with a laugh; knowing just how well with words he was. He has an air and way about him that could draw people in.
They’ve seen the way everyone seems to follow his every word, including Jumin. And even their own.
When they hear the camera go off mid-laugh, they turn to glance at V. “Hey! Now that one definitely won’t work!” They take a step forward. “Why do you keep taking such casual photos of me?” A slight tilt of their head after they finish their inquiry to show their confusion.
“I’m making a photo album of behind the scenes of everyone’s photos,” he lies — quick thinking — and swallows a little. “Just for the crew and RFA. They’ll be shown at the celebration of our opening day.”
“That sounds so cool~! I can’t wait to see all the photos!” Their voice is louder now, and very enthusiastic. The idea of seeing all the behind-the-scenes photographs interests MC, and they couldn’t wait to hear all the stories behind the photos he would put together.
They are certain there would be some clowning around by Seven and Saeran, where surely Saeran would be chasing after his brother after being sprayed by a flower that was attached to his outfit. Some photos of Yoosung juggling; where his tongue is sticking out because he is so focused on not dropping the bowling pins he had chosen to open his act with. They’d hoped that Jaehee would be smiling as she takes a break from taming and working with Elizabeth the 3rd. Rika could possibly be sitting in her hoop, taking breaths between the aerobatics she would be showing off, perhaps even chatting with Zen, who’d be standing around the same area that MC is at currently, draping a towel across his shoulders — having finished his shoot from the aerial silks that had been set up in the Big Top.
Perhaps even behind the scenes selfies of the Ringmaster and the photographer himself.
V feels guilty for lying to MC about why he is taking as many photos of them as possible, but he still isn’t entirely sure if he has the courage to come out and let them know the truth.
“We’ll take a few more photos.” He watches as MC does their best to wipe their brow of a bead of sweat without messing up their face paint. “And get you some water.”
“Water sounds fantastic right about now!”
Another click of the camera as V — no, Jihyun — catches the merriment in MC's expression and body language; the mirth in their eyes. He feels honored, blessed even, to have the opportunity to catch MC like this, especially dressed as they were.
MC, on the other hand, is highly confused as to why he keeps snapping pictures of them. "You'll be looking through photos of me forever, finding one to use, if you keep taking random pictures of me~!"
Oh, he truly doesn't mind, since he knows that it would possibly be a rare occasion for them to be present in each other’s company like this, he thoroughly enjoys having the chance to watch MC as they smile and laugh. It is simple, pleasant, and nice.
It makes his heart flutter, his cheeks flush as though they are practicing their act, he would blame the spotlight shining down on them if he would be asked why his cheeks were so red.
"You have wonderful artistic vision; I have seen some of your work before," — plastered around the fairgrounds are photographs that he had taken of various landscapes, of Elizabeth the Third. "Maybe you should help me pose for a good photo to use for the flyer!"
Jihyun smiles softly; the idea sounding like the best way he can be close to MC before they part ways for the day. Slowly, he lowers his camera so it dangles by the strap around his neck. "Of course. I'm sure we'll be able to come up with something…."
His steps echo throughout the Big Top as he approaches them; a smile curving his lips. “Hmm.” His voice is low as he stops right behind them.
And he presses as close behind them as he could manage without the camera pressing into their back.
He dips his head down to their ear. “How about this…?”
The softness and tenderness of his voice causes them to shiver as they feel his hands glide down their arms; fingers curling around their wrists as he maneuvers them gently. He truly has no idea how he wants them to look for a photograph, as he is sure all the ones he'd taken are truly ideal for him.
It's long past the point of him needing to get a photograph for a flyer, but his own selfish need of seeing MC smile, and being near them for more than just their performance and in passing moments of Circus meetings to prepare for opening day.
MC hopes that he couldn’t hear their heart race as they stand there, silent, for moments. “...This is fine.” they whisper as they turn their head to the side in order to see him. “As long as you’re alright with helping me pose.”
And he chuckles softly, so close to their ear and it thrills them. The familiar sensation of butterflies in their stomach
Just as he feels within his.
"....MC." their name is spoken before he has a chance to leave it on the tip of his tongue.
"Yes, V?"
One of his hands reaches for theirs and he gently curls his fingers in-between theirs, and their fingers fall together, intertwined, with ease. It's a silent request from him that they know all too well from their performance. He would like them to turn around —
and they oblige. Spinning around as though they are practicing their act, and his free hand swiftly, yet oh so gently, lands on their hip without any hesitation on his part.
Their eyes lock, chests rising and falling with their breaths, almost in sync, as if they'd finished a rehearsal. "I…." he begins to say,but he's cut off by MC's lips pressing against his.
He cannot help but sigh into the kiss before his lips curve into a slight smile. The fluttering sensation increases as he feels MC return his smile.
They both hate to part from this, but they know that they must. And when they do, he breathes out softly, "...I want you to call me Jihyun..."
“Hey…!” Yoosung’s voice rings out before MC has a chance to respond, and it causes the two on the Big Top stage to jump — startled... yet they still stand so close to one another. “...Does this mean you two are finally aware of each other's feelings?”
Jihyun glances down at them inquisitively, to which the smile he felt against his lips reemerges on their face. “...Well, MC?” he asks softly.
“Hmm~” they hum teasingly. “I dunno~ kissing isn’t part of our act. And it's certainly not part of my act!” They stand on tip-toes and use the sleeve of their shirt to clean off the trace of black lipstick from Jihyun's lips.
It only takes him a moment to reach for that hand, take it gently in his, and to kiss their sleeve. “Yes, Yoosung. I believe we are aware now."
“It’s about time.” Jumin chimes in. “...I hope you have some workable photos, V. I didn’t request these promotional flyers for you to go to MC with a love confession.”
A squeak comes from MC and they can feel the tips of their ears and the apples of their cheeks burn as they try so desperately to hide behind Jihyun. “I thought you said he wouldn’t come in!!!”
And Jihyun laughs before saying, “We’re fine, MC. C’mon. Let’s go get that water… and grab something to eat while we’re at it; I’m sure you could use it. Besides…. I’d like to spend some more time with you, if that’s alright.”
“Of course,” they reply as they give his hand a squeeze. “Let me freshen up first. I’ll see you in the food tent.” Once again, they go on their tip-toes but this time it's to place a gentle kiss upon his cheek.
Now Jihyun blushes — happily. Relieved. And outwardly just as smitten as their act portrays. In much the same way as MC is right now.
warnings: depressed and tired mc. because hahahahaha life sucks. mmm fluff. bad writing because ayo it's me. no beta / not super proof-read because i'm lazy af and horrible at genshin so it's a win-win.
pre-relationship because i'm a sucker for characters that *really* like each other and be absolutely oblivious to the others feels.
mc is traveler. take your pick if you're lumine, aether, yourself, or your own oc <3 (no names named, as i find it ruins the moment. just the occasional use of 'traveler'.)
this is also untitled as of right now because i'm awful at coming up with titles for writing.
on mobile and i have no idea how to do a read more so oopsies.
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amber eyes take in your form — from the way your shoulders have drooped, how there's a missing smile on your features, how your eyes do not seem to hold the same candle fire or passion within them, to how you seem a bit unsteady on your feet.
after being your traveling companion for quite some time, it would be inattentive for someone of zhongli's nature to not notice something amiss.
"hello, traveler," he says as he watches you come into his field of vision. the sun was shining in liyue, the birds were chirping, and the sounds of a waterfall flowing far off in the distance had been soothing enough to help lull you and your party to sleep that night.
and he watches, still, as you seem to straighten up your shoulders, smile that adorable smile of yours... and yet it did not reach your eyes, he noticed. it didn't help, either, that it seemed by the way you stumbled just a little, he had startled you when he spoke.
"zhongli!" you reply, doing your best to sound the most cheerful, chipper you could muster. in truth, you were exhausted. but thankfully bathed, as that is where you'd snuck off to. a nice and warm pool of water not too far off that caught your eye as you approached the area you were setting up camp last night.
Celestia above, you knew you were in desperate need of a good washing. Some time alone. to sort out thoughts that were beginning to plague you. to soothe the ache and wear in your bones and muscles from your travels. for a sense of self. . .
"...?" zhongli tilts his head to the side, observing you. and you notice that it appears he's furrowing his brow and looking at you inquisitively.
You blink. "....Is everything okay?"
"I'd asked the very same question just a moment ago. Did you not hear?"
A faint laugh escapes your lips. "My apologies. Must have water in my ears..." and you make a small show of doing your best to make it look like you're trying to get water out of them. You certainly didn't want to tell the man before you that you'd completely dazed out and were not listening to him. . .
for someone that is known as the listener, he sure is a talker.
He straightens his head, though his brow remains furrowed. "Very well then, I will just repeat myself." a beat. "Though the rest of our traveling companions are still resting, I have prepared some breakfast and tea," and he motions to the pot over the fire. "It may not have simmered for as long as I find optimal and ideal, but it should be sufficient enough. Would you like some?"
He'd noticed as of late that you were not eating as one normally should — six small meals a day was what he has come to understand, and his observation noted that you were down to maybe two.
You're not too surprised at the offering of breakfast and tea. There's always a member or two of your traveling companions that have offerings of some sort of meal as you all camped. You appreciated the effort and time they took to make meals, though, truth be told, you were were often not hungry due to depression, anxiety, worries.
"Some tea sounds great!" and you're genuinely enthusiastic about this, as the gentle breeze has caused goosebumps to form across bare skin. The warmth of the tea would settle them in no time.
The fact that you did not even mention breakfast does not go unnoticed by Zhongli as he retrieves a tea cup from one of the bags at the campsite. When he has poured the tea into the cup, he hands it to you. His eyes soft, brow unfurrowed.
You note he looks concerned.
"Thank you." The cup is warm in your hands, as you knew it would be. "I towel dried as best as I could, but I guess I'm still a little cold."
You don't notice the slight confusion that crosses his features at your comment.
He knew that you had a bit of a chill but his concern was more for your lack of appetite. . .now he has another thing to be concerned about.
"Here," you hear him say before hearing the sound of fabric rustling. "Take this."
Before you could open your mouth to protest, you feel the weight of his jacket upon your shoulders and his hands linger there. . .gently rubbing them soothingly. "I hope this suffices." His voice just above a whisper.
"Now, why don't we have a seat?" He suggests.
You nod a little, liking the idea of sitting in the warmth of the sun, sipping on tea, and being in the presence of him. And you allow him to guide you gently — large hands still upon your shoulders, to a small little area aways from where the others are resting. a rock formation the perfect size of a small bench for the two of you. You don't mind that your thighs are touching as you stretch your legs out before you.
"What is troubling you, Traveler?" He inquires softly after a few moments of silence. "Forgive me if I am prying, and I will not pressure for an answer if you do not wish to speak of the things that are on your mind. . .but I have noticed that you have not quite been yourself as of late."
"I'm fine." You reply, much too quickly. You readjust your posture just a little for your shoulders to be held high and you smile — though, again, Zhongli sees out of the corner of his eye that your smile does not reach yours. "...Just a little tired."
"Did you not sleep well last night?"
You remember waking up at some ungodly hour from the same nightmares that have plagued you ever since your twin had been taken away from you. "No."
"Is there anything that I could do to help?"
A soft sigh escapes you, and you allow your shoulders and body to relax. "I don't. . .I don't know." you admit. "Sometimes. . .I want to talk about how I'm feeling," you grip the teacup a bit more, feeling it's warmth radiating against your palms. "But I don't want to be a burden."
Zhongli turns his head to peer over at you, and he can see the battle of emotions you're going through. "You could never — would never — burden me." His voice is soft once again.
You lean against him, and he makes no move to leave. If anything, it almost felt as though he had shifted his position a little in order to be as close to you as possible. You chalked it up to it being just your imagination.
In this position, Zhongli cannot see the expressions on your face nor in your eyes, but it is much easier for him to brush his lips across the crown of your head — the thought crosses his mind, yet he lets go of the image.
He feels that maybe if he wasn't looking at you — concern and worry in his eyes — than it would be easier for you to speak of your troubles and of what was on your mind.
Comfortable silence falls between the two of you as you make work of your tea. The warmth of the drink, of the sun, and of Zhongli has comforted you and rid you of the goosebumps you'd had. "Zhongli?"
He hums in response, and you can feel it as much as you can hear it.
"Do you ever have regrets?"
For a being that has been alive for well over 6,000 years, he could, for certain, say that there were many a thing that he has come to regret with the passage of time. But, in a way, if he had not taken the winding paths and roads that his immortal life has led him down. . .this very moment may have not come to exist. You, in his life, may not have existed.
"Sometimes," he says instead of a wholehearted 'yes.' "I do well not to think of the what ifs or have beens."
"I regret not waking up before them." You whisper; the teacup in your hands are set between the two of you and you bring your legs up close enough for you to hug them.
"I regret not doing more to save them...."
"You did what you could at the time. Do not discredit yourself for the circumstances you were in. Perhaps this journey is one that you needed to take."
You can't help but let out a bitter laugh. "Not everything that occurs to us in life should be some sort of a lesson to be taught for one reason or another, Zhongli."
"And I agree, Traveler. But what has occurred has happened, and there is no way to change the past. All we can do is continue on the stone path forward."
He sighs softly; his eyes focusing on the crown of your head as he slips an arm around you to pull you just a tad closer.
You do not stop him.
"Life is full of twists and turns, of things that are the utmost painful,. . .but that should not be a deterrent to continue to fight for what you believe in or the resolution of an outcome. There's always an end to contracts."
"I just want them home."
He wonders where you would go, what you would do, when finally being reconnected to your sibling. He can't help but to feel a twinge of sadness and pain when his mind wanders to the thought of you leaving his side one day. Would you ever return to Liyue? Would you ever think of him?
"I know. . ." He whispers, and you feel that he has leaned down a little; his voice sounds closer than it has been.
"I keep having nightmares of the day we were separated. The look in their eyes as they reached out for me as they were sealed away. . ." your voice trails off as a lump in your throat forms and your eyes begin to tear up. You sniffle a little,
as Zhongli's lips brush against your hair on the top of your head. He dares not to press down to have you feel his lips on the crown of your head. ". . .I regret not being able to do anything to stop the Unknown God."
"Let us make a contract." The arm around you reaches up in order to tilt your head to look at him, and he maneuvers enough to still be close to you but also able for his gaze — full of promise and something else you cannot name — to have you captivated and locked.
"I will happily give you my assistance in seeking out your sibling with you, no matter the time or distance it takes to do so. In return. . ." His gaze softens more. "You inform me whenever something is troubling you, and allow me to do what I can to help you."
'...help to take care of you' the words are on the tip of his tongue but he swallows them down.
"I—." you begin. The look in his eyes rather intense, and you're unsure if it means to be. Maybe he's worried simply because the two of you are friends and merely traveling companions. "You're sure it won't bother you?"
"I'm as sure as the formations of these rocks that were formed by Rex Lapis many moons ago."
". . .Alright," you reply, voice soft. "Thank you, Zhongli. . .for listening, and for your concern."
"You're welcome," and he smiles at you softly. "Let us get back to the others now. I am certain they are awake."
With a nod, you stretch your legs back out and almost regrettably move away from the warmth and comfort of Zhongli in order to stand up. "I'd like some breakfast, too, even though it's probably cold by now."
"Not to fret. It's nothing that I cannot warm up a little for you and the others to enjoy." He stands as well, and places one of his hands on your shoulders. a comforting gesture. The other hand has grabbed the teacup to bring back to the campsite.
You feel a little bit better — grateful to have someone to talk to that's willing to listen to your troubles and worries, and give you sound (though sometimes confusing, because Zhongli can talk in riddles sometimes) advice.
