i think it would be cool if mulder and scully accidentally got trapped in a cave with ancient paintings on the walls (like the chauvet cave) with just a torch and a paleolithic spirit. they could have inexplicable experiences finding evidence of ancient rituals while mulder rambles on about the religious significance of man-beast statuary figures and scully thinks that they have carbon monoxide poisoning. they would eventually escape after Seeing Things and never talk about it to each other again. but!☝️there would be a very long closing monologue as they read their report and ponder what it means to be human, what it means to connect to the spirits (whatever they may be), and what can be learned from their ancestors.
"Did you not ever stop to think what all of those glitches of media have in common? The hiss and pop of an old cassette. The crackling snow of a worn VHS. Even the maddening looping of a skipping vinyl. They're all distortion."
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!
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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.
I wrote this and made myself cry. I told you guys I can’t do angst. Please enjoy and cry with me :’)
Warnings: brief mention of alcohol use, but it isn’t part of the story. Also contains description of a meltdown
Taglist: @go-just-me-fan ; @sambloom ; let me know if you want added, I’ll probably write a part two (this needs fluff. Like right away)
“M..Mom?” His voice was quiet, too quiet for a seven year-old. He knit his hands together in restless, wringing motions – one over the other over the other over the other.
“Shh, Eric, it’s alright.” She brought her pale hand onto his lively ones, his fingers twitching with unrest as they stilled. “It’ll be fine, don’t you worry.”
“But, but Dad said-“ “Don’t you mind what your dad said.” Her pale eyes met his, a determination in them causing Eric to pause.
“You aren’t you’re brothers, Erie. You’re Eric; my sweet, little boy. Remember that for your momma, ok?”
He nodded, wiping away heavy tears.
“Now, show me what your daddy was so mad about.”
He tentatively pulled a scrap of cloth from his pocket, stitches criss-crossing clumsily. “I…I was workin’ on…sewin’…like you, Ma. It…it helps…helps me feel…be-tter.”
She tenderly grabbed the fabric and glanced over the clumsy threads. “You did a great job, Erie! Look at this here,” she pointed to a place where a tear had been sewn shut. “This certainly isn’t comin’ apart anytime soon! You did good!”
Eric smiled and sniffled. “I..I did?” “Yes, my beautiful boy!” She kissed his head, causing the boy to giggle.
“Now, why don’t you an’ your momma sit and do some sewing together. How’s that sound?” Eric beamed, nodding furiously as he ran to grab her sewing bag.
“Mom? Why can’t we…we have…good fab-ric?” He ducked his head as he muttered the question, focusing on threading the tiny needle in his hands.
The woman sighed, shaking her head. “Your dad just doesn’t make quite enough for us to have nice things, Erie. And with sixteen strong boys in this house,” she ruffled his hair, bringing a nervous laugh bubbling up out of him. “there’s just not enough left for things like that.” “Oh.”
They worked in silence, darning the socks that the family needed sewn up. She frowned, contemplating for a moment, before she set down her work.
“Eric, do you want nice things?”
Eric froze, a deer in the headlights. “I..I mean no! I…Dad does a lot! We..if we…if we can’t have…have stuff…I don’t….I-“
His mother shushed him, bringing him close. “Shh, it’s ok to want nice things. Your momma wishes she could have new dresses, sometimes.”
Eric’s eyes widened, glancing up at his mom in shock. “You…you wan’ nice things?” “Why sure, but we just can’t have them right now.”
She leaned close to his ear. “But I’ve got a secret nice thing hidden in the bottom of my sewing bag. Take a peek.”
Eric practically dove for the aforementioned bag, hands shaking with excitement. He gasped as he felt something soft and warm.
He pulled his hands out to hold a soft dandelion-colored square, the fabric soothing to his small, calloused fingers. He could not stop himself from pulling it closer to himself, cradling it to his cheek and running it along his face. “It’s a real nice thing, Mama.”
She nodded and smiled, “It sure is, Erie. And now it’s your nice thing.”
He gasped, almost dropping the fabric. “It’s…but it’s…it’s your nice thing! I can’t…” She shook her head and gave him an almost stern look. “Now Eric. It’s my nice thing. So I get to decide what happens to it. So I’m deciding to give it to you. Ok?”
He nodded, falling onto her with a wide grin. “Thank you, Mama!” She embraced him back, laughing softly. “Your welcome, my sweet boy.”
She took a job as a bus driver to help with the bills, as much as Derick hated it. There just was not enough coming in to support the family.
“Mama? Why do you have to drive so late?” She was donning her uniform for the night shift, adjusting her hat in the mirror.
“Why, my strong boys need to eat! And someone has to watch over the house during the day, so I drive people around at night.”
“Yeah…b, but why night?” “I keep the people safe at night. I make sure they get to where they need to go without getting hurt.” She paused, taking in his questioning gaze.
“You know your daddy? How he sometimes has too much juice and needs help? I help people like that get to places safely.”
Eric was silent, fiddling with his yellow square. He wove the fabric through his fingers – up, down, up, down, up. Back again. Down, up, down, up, down. And again. Up, down, up, down, up.
She watched him fidget for a moment. “Erie, I’ll be fine. Now, how’s your sewing coming along?”
He pulled the fabric through his fingers one last time before holding it up. “I…I’m workin’ on somethin’. I wanna p-put the names of…special things I…like….on here…on my special thing!”
She took the bright square with a smile, reading the sloppily sewn words with gentle eyes. ‘Squirrels, birds, puppies’, and other words decorated the fabric, most of them animals.
“You’re doing so well, Erie! At this rate, you’ll be better than your Mama!” He giggled. “Nah, y-you’ll always be the best, Mom!”
She handed the fabric back to him, kissing his forehead before she grabbed the keys off the table.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Erie. I love you!”
“I love you too, Mama! I’ll see you…tomorrow!”
He didn’t see her the next day.
Alone in the bedroom he shared with his brothers, Eric rocked in the closet. The tears wouldn’t stop, they wouldn’t stop, why wouldn’t they stop? He wanted them to stop. Where was his Mama?
He pulled out the yellow fabric, running it along his face and smearing the salt around.
It was his fault. He shouldn’t have let her go. He knew something was gonna happen! Now his Mama was gone, and it was his fault! He didn’t deserve her nice thing!
He flung the fabric away from himself, throwing his hands into his hair and pulling. He rocked faster as the sobs grew louder, tears falling more freely now as he pounded his head with his fists.
It was his fault! His fault! His fault! His fault! His! Fault!
He continued to rock and sob until he had nothing left. Until he sank, spent, into a ball on the floor.
Eric woke up sometime later, dim light filtering through the cracks in the door frame. He sat up and forced himself to look at the ironically cheerful fabric square. It felt soft in his hands. Familiar and comforting.
He rubbed his face with the fabric, pretending it was his mother’s skirt as fresh tears threatened to spill.
But the embroidered words felt wrong. They weren’t his favorite things anymore. They weren’t things that he wanted anymore.
He pulled a pocketknife from a coat pocket hanging above, determined. He carefully placed the blade beneath the offending threads.
He didn’t want squirrels. Cut.
He didn’t want birds. Cut.
He didn’t want a puppy. Cut.
He wanted his mom. Not things, he wanted her.
After the threads were pulled, he pulled the fabric back to his cheek, like a magnet finding its place on the refrigerator. The smooth, unselfish fabric now felt right. It felt good.
It felt like Mom.
But it still wasn’t quite right.
The ridging from the embroidery, while intrusive, had felt right against his skin. It had reminded him of things that he loved. It had helped remind him of happiness when the days got too dark.
But those things didn’t belong now. They weren’t his favorite nice things anymore.
But he still needed something on the fabric.
He pulled a needle and thread from his coat pocket, gifts from his mother just a few weeks prior.
He needed something. Not a thing, per se, but there was something missing.
He paused.
He needed her.
With quaking, careful hands, he embroidered the three letter word into the center of the square.
Once he had finished his work, he pulled the fabric to his cheek.
Yes. That’s what he needed. Tears continued to fall, and would fall for years afterwards, but he still had her. She was still with him.
"...but it's real, I-I know it is. If I can find it again, I can prove it to Anya. I can play it for her. I can listen to the song again. I have to hear it again.
I couldn't find any information online, but that nice record shop employee said they could help. They invited me to come back to the store tonight. We're gonna go over the inventory records. I'm sure I can find it again. Yeah..."
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.
—————————
“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.
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.
