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ohcaptains · 7 months

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𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐲.

pairing. simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader.

synopsis. simon comes home. he's too tired to fuck you right. eventually, he manages to find the energy.

warnings. 18+ this is sexually explicit, do not read this or interact with my blog if you’re a minor. do not copy or use ai on my shit, i’ll find out. female receiving penetration, blonde simon lol, somnophilia, dry humping, pussy smacking, and crying during sex. i am not responsible for your media consumption.

an. :) life sucked so i found a new animated character to obsess over. please comment & reblog if u enjoyed !

When Simon comes back, he’s dog-tired.

As soon as his feet touch the welcome mat of your quaint little apartment, he feels all of his muscles relax – as if they’re unpinning themselves from his bones – and he has to give himself a pep talk to muster the energy to drag his hand up to ring the bell.

But he doesn’t have to, because you’re ripping the door open – shining like the sun – and pulling him into your body, rendering all 6,4 ft and 240 pounds of the super soldier to complete mush.

For five minutes, you don’t speak. Just hold him, as you gently rub the corner of his jaw, and brush your fingers through his dirty blonde hair. He clutches you to him.

His fat, paw-like hands hold your upper back, and you hold him with the same vigour. His body – wrapped in his black compression shirt and army pants – is rock solid.

It’s a weaving of muscles that have been tensed for the last two months. It’s going to take a minute for them all to soften, but like he always does when he’s been away, Simon lets out a deep and resolute sigh.

The breath warms your neck, causing it to tingle, and you grasp him tighter, your body waking up.

It’s been a long two months.

He manages to push your intertwined bodies through the doorway, using his boot to kick the door shut. His house smells like home -- funny how you can’t smell it until you’ve been gone a while.

Vanilla and a citrus fruit, mixed with the savoury scent of his favourite meal. He hums again, and you scratch the back of his head, sending shivers down his locked spine.

He knows the route to your bedroom like the back of his hand, and he maneuvers the pair of you inside.

The curtains are closed and the bed is made. You know him. You know him so well.

You let him push you back onto the bed – a blur of familiar limbs and hair – and he settles lower, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Immediately, you drag your legs up and cross them over the curve of his ass.

You’re all warm and soft and pliable. Dressed in a pair of simple cotton shorts and a vest top, he wants to grab fistfuls of you and remind himself of how you feel in his palms. Wants to drag his lips over your skin, bully his way between your legs and remind himself of how you taste.

Fuck, he wants you, in a carnal, almost primal sort of way, and you the same. He can smell it. A sweet but sweaty longing that melts from you and causes his senses to wake.

But he’s so God damn tired.

You know. Know this routine. Know that he has to settle back in.

In the meantime, you’ll just have to wait.

You fiddle with his hair. “There’s dinner if you want it,” you whisper into the dark bedroom, looping the strands between your fingers, committing the soft feel to memory.

Simon shuffles just an inch on top of you, but still, the slight movement of his clothes and hard, clenched body against yours makes you take your bottom lip between your teeth.

It’ll be chewed raw by the time he has enough energy to take you. He grunts something into your skin, and after a second, you gather it’s, tired.

His scent clouds you.

When Simon comes back, he always smells the same.

The soap at the barracks is pine scented – shampoo a strict lemon.

But there’s always a leftover grit to him. A hidden layer the soap can’t clean off, and it makes you delirious. Makes you flex your ass up – just an inch, a sweet, gentle inch that has you feeling the hard lines of his thighs and the metal of his zipper, and Simon’s breathing hitches.

You freeze. With your hips pushed tight against his, you stare at the ceiling, hoping that your worn-out soldier hasn’t felt you move.

Simon stays quiet. His breathing settles. You go to apologise, but Simon doesn’t grumble or make a sly comment. Listening closer to his breathing, you gather that he’s asleep.

Jesus, you think, that’s a record. Barely in the door and he’s asleep, he must be burnt out. Figuring that you won’t be able to crawl from under his weight, you decide it’s your bedtime too.

Sleep comes fast.

Hours later, you blearily blink awake. Not much has changed – the room is still dark, Simon is still heavy on top of you, yet now, you’re sticking to him with sweat.

He’s usually a human furnace, but this is different.

Your skin prickles, vibrating at a frequency that has nothing to do with heat. No, this is…you feel a pulsating between your thighs, and wiggle, feeling your slick coating your underwear.

Fuck, why are you so wet? You clench, and the resulting ache forces you to hiss and push your head back against the pillows. What did you dream about? Thinking back, you come up short. Then why--

Simon shuffles on top of you. It’s a slight movement, but it continues, and all at once, your heart clenches.

Holy fuck, he’s—

“Simon?” you whisper, and your boyfriend whines into your neck.

“I’m sorry,” he wheezes, the words wet and desperate. The puzzle pieces lock into place.

He knocks his hips into your crotch once more, and you gasp, clenching, eyes rolling back in pleasure. Simon’s apology comes out again, except this time, it’s christened with a “s-shit – fuck.”

Blinking at the ceiling, you huff and try and glance down, and in the dark, you just about manage to see the outline of his burly body grinding into yours.

You take stock of the situation.

Feel his fat palm around your hip, and squinting, see that he’s got your shorts pulled down around your thighs, and has the band of your underwear looped around his fingers.

Jesus Christ. You fall back into the pillows. “How long have you?” you whisper. “Five – fuck – minutes,” Simon grunts, continuing to roll his thick hips against you. His bulge knocks the edge of your throbbing clit, causing you to gasp again. There’s been no build-up to your want, it’s just there, humming electric, and spread tight over your thighs.

Simon meshes his wet mouth against your chest. He’s tugged your vest top down, too, and his lips close around the skin of your breast. Jesus. He was undressing you as you slept.

“Thought about fuckin’ you, but couldn’t get my pants down, so – shit -- tired. Jus’ woke up and you were just so fuckin’ soft. And wet, Christ, felt you through my trousers.”

Your whole body goes numb. “You were gonna fuck me as I slept?” you whisper, belly flipping. You’d told him – ages ago – that he could, but he hasn’t been here. You’d forgotten.

The image of him pulling your underwear down as you slept streaks across your mind. Imagine waking up with him inside of you, so full and wet and just on the precipice of coming.

Simon grunts. He tugs at the band of your underwear, “I’ll fuck you right, at some point. Just –”

In your delirious state, you manage to finish his sentence, “Tired, I know – I know baby.”

You kiss the crown of his head and whimper into his hair. “Just use me until you’re ready.”

Simon groans out deep and loud. It rumbles against your chest. Echoes through your heart, and you’re so turned on that you begin fidgeting.

You try and squirm away from the stifling ache of your pussy, but Simon’s built like a brick shithouse, so you can’t run from it, just gotta take it and take it and take it, until you can’t anymore, and you break.

You’re so fucked that you don’t even announce that you’re coming, but Simon knows, shit, and as your pussy clenches up tight, he growls low and hard, mumbling, that’s it, that’s it, that’s it, until his movements go sloppy, and his breathing goes laboured, and he’s coming into his pants and mewling your name.

When he finally does manage to get inside of you, he doesn’t last long. No, he pushes all the way to the hilt, and you tighten up.

“Stay” you gasp, clenching your pussy around his shaft, and Simon grunts deep and long into your throat.

“S-Stay there,” you moan, then, in case he didn’t hear you, “Stay,” you whisper, and push the ball of your palm into his thick, scarred shoulder.

You were teetering on a knives edge.

You’ve come once since Simon was home, and your second orgasm of his return was right there.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Simon groans into the shallow of your throat, “Did we do enough prep?”

“Yes,” you immediately whisper, not wanting him to pull out.

He’s thick and pulsing inside of you, hard and heavy on top, and God, he kisses at your throat — soft and gentle. You try to swallow down the ball that has swelled in your throat, but tears prick at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill.

No no no no, you think. Not now. Not now not now. You try to stifle the tears, but you unconsciously sniff, and despite Simon being perfectly still, he still manages to freeze.

“Sweetheart?”

You inhale, “Yeah?”

Simon looks up; and seeing tears on your cheeks, his face falls, “Did I hurt you?”

You furiously wipe the tears away, shaking your head.

“M’just overwhelmed,” you whisper, and he presses his forehead against yours, going to kiss you, but the movement causes his hips to flex against you, nudging his cock, and you whine, immediately gripping onto the back of his dirty blonde locks.

Simon drops his face into your chest and lets out a pained rasp, “Tightening around me, kid.”

You unclench, “m’sorry.”

“Gonna come quick.”

“S’okay.”

“I’ll fuck you right, just gotta…” he trails off and grabs fist fulls of your hips.

“Fuck,” he huffs wistfully, “This pussy. Missed this fucking pussy.”

You go dizzy with need. Shake your head, and bend to kiss him, tasting his wet and swollen lips. Gently, you knock your hips up into his, and when he lets out a surprised grumble, you flex your hips higher, trying to stuff his cock deeper, further – till you can see it pressing into your belly.

Catching onto your plan, Simon grunts and pushes your hips with his fat palms, pinning your ass to the mattress.

“Stop,” he orders, and the demand goes straight to your cunt. Jesus. He hasn’t been very dominant since his return, and that little instruction has you chomping on the bit.

“Want you, Si.”

“One stroke and I’ll be fucked.”

“Just gotta practice.”

He chokes on a laugh, muttering, “Practice.”

You try another tactic. Clench around his cock and pout, “Want you to come inside me.”

“Fuck,” Simon cuts. You curl your legs back his back and push your foot into the dense muscle of his ass, at the same time rocking your hips up. Simon lets you. Let’s you try and fuck yourself on his cock. With wet lips, you push your mouth into the shell of his ear, shakily uttering his name.

“Gonna fill me up, Si?”

“Fuckin’ filthy, you know that?”

Simon pulls back, and your heart stutters.

You think he’s going to pull out, until he uses your hips to pull you tight against his cock -- your ass nearly sitting on his thighs. His thick, scarred chest is puffed up.

Cheeks red, and he’s got that animal glint in his pretty eyes.

It knocks you for six.

“Where you want it?” he asks, and you’re confused, until he presses the heel of his palm into the middle of your tummy.

“Shoot my load here, huh?”

Your body goes numb. Eyes white out. It happens so suddenly that it scares you, and you’re a mixture of turned on and frightened, but the fear turns you on even more.

All you can do is blearily look up at him as he slides his paw to the other side of your tummy, “or shoot it here. Fuck it so deep that you can taste it.”

He pretends to think about it. Even hums, before he drags his palm up and stuffs his thumb into your mouth. “Or just directly here, huh?” He snarls a smile, “know you like it when your mouth is full.”

You suck at his thumb, and tighten your cunt around his cock, causing his mouth to open, and eyes to flutter, and just like that, you’ve won.

He comes in record time.

But Simon keeps his promises.

A couple of days later – on the seventh day he’s back -- he fucks you so good, that when you wake up the next morning, you get shy just thinking about it.

Lay in bed, staring at the ceiling – your boyfriend fast asleep on your chest -- remembering the debauchery you’d gotten up to the night before.

The pair of you are a little tipsy, drunk on beer and wine, but all it’s done is heighten your senses, and made you fully aware of your desires, so much so, that they pulsate behind your eyelids like a migraine.

Simons got you face down, ass up, and as he pushes you face first into the mattress, he presses his thumb against the tight, fluttering hole of your pussy.

“Gonna let me inside, baby?”

You sink into your thighs and spread yourself wider for him, humming into your crossed arms. Simon watches your pussy spread further, and he can’t help himself, he has to slide his thumb deeper.

He presses, just barely pushing the tip of his thumb into your wet hole, and you gasp, trying to chase the feeling by inching back against his fat palm. He laughs at you. “Look at your pussy sucking my thumb in, baby. Wish you could see what I’m seeing. So fuckin’ sexy.”

You hum, the words making you wetter – dripping over his thumb.

“Been dreaming of fucking you right, gonna take you whenever I want.”

“Okay,” you whisper, so delirious that you’re not sure what you’re agreeing to. Simon raises a brow,

“Yeah?” he asks, tone breathless. Thought he’d get some pushback on that one, but for a second, he forgot that you said the nastiest shit with his dick inside of you.

You nod into your crossed arms, and Simon laughs again, “Free use pussy,” he sounds, then lightly smacks your sodden folds, causing you to flinch, bucking forward.

“Oh fuck,” you choke, eyes rolling back. Heat ricochets through your crotch and swamps your belly, before settling back in your aching pussy. Once you manage to collect yourself – and it takes a second -- you huff. “Bein’ mean.”

Simon snorts, grabs your hips, then rams the underside of his cock against your pussy, grinning so big that his scars stretch, “don’t know the half of it, babe.”

You sob, real tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Your desire is visceral, enough for you to taste it on your tongue. Simon pulls back, and your slick coats the length of his dick, earning yourself another light smack to your cunt.

“Soakin’ me,” he grunts, and you sob into the sheets. “Please,” you whisper, then, please please please, and Simon hears your breathing hitch.

This time, instead of checking up on you, he chuckles, “Crying again, baby?”

You sniff and wipe your eyes on your wrist, face heating.

“No,” you mumble, and Simon sighs.

He reads you like a book. Always has. Always will.

“Lying to me,” he grumbles, then he steers the uncut head of his cock between your folds, whispering, “Lie to me again, and I’ll give you something to cry about,�� before bottoming out in one thrust.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon 'ghost' riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon riley x female reader #simon 'ghost' riley smut #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon ghost #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x you #call of duty

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bejeweledaus · 5 months

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BACK TO YOU | Jack Hughes au!

—

PROLOGUE;

yourusername posted!

liked by jackhughes, Ihughes_06 and 1,009 others

yourusername; graduated today. was surrounded by so many people that i love but one person in particular made it the most special. you and I until the very end, my love 🫶🏼

tagged; jackhughes

view all 405 comments

jackhughes forever and always, my sweet angel ♥️

*pinned comment by yourusername

user01 well guys we have officially lost, she’s off the market and to a hockey player out of people 😭

user34 let’s be real…you didn’t stand a chance like at all

user01 it’s always nice to dream though so

user76 Jack Hughes is dating THE y/n y/l/n? how did he do that? did he manifest?

user38 the fact that he was her high school sweetheart…

user02 wait wdym…was?

user23 there is rumors speculating that they broke up like a while ago especially since she unfollowed him on all social media platforms. the second photo is legit the only photo she has of them together up, the rest she deleted

user83 the fact that his comment is still pinned when they both didn’t make it to forever and always

user18 y/n, sweet beautiful soul, you deserve the whole world. if it’s meant to be than you two will find each other again 🫶🏼

user21 since she’s deleting post than maybe she should at least delete the second slide, change up the caption and unpin jacks comment…

user30 she’s barley on instagram as it is so she probably won’t do it

user29 the last post she made was when she promoted her new movie…

user21 still, doesn’t hurt to try and convince her to delete it since they aren’t together anymore. she unfollowed him and deleted all the other posts of them together so why not delete this one?

user20 maybe let’s just drop it? if she deletes it than she deletes it if not than that is her choice, it’s her instagram she decides what she wants to keep up and not. I know she probably appreciate you trying to help.

* liked by yourinstagram

user86 I’m still in denial that they broke up. there is just no way. they have so much love for each other. I simply don’t believe it …

*yourinstagram has archived the second slide*

*yourinstagram has unpinned jackhughes comment*

*yourinstagram has changed her caption to ‘graduated today’*

user56 yup it’s officially over. she archived second slide, unpinned his comment and changed the caption to just ‘graduated today’…

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robs-corner-of-the-internet · 17 days

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New intro!

i am not the best at drawing but here is a silly little drawing that kind of looks like me!:D also please enjoy my horrible handwriting haha^_^ BTW i am 100% pro-recovery (just not for myself)!! i do not recommend this for anyone!!! Comment to be moots!! My dms are also always open (unless ur a creep haha). Im gonna unpin my old intro but if anyone wants to read it then it will still be up on my blog:)

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whatthefishh · 1 year

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Let Down Your Hair

A/N: okay listen, this is extremely self indulgent and you might think it’s boring but I was dealing with some pain and I wanted my babies. Probably the first of a series of extremely specific fics. @kittyofalltrades 🤍 ty for reading this over and being super sweet to me

Steven Grant (with mentions of Jake + Marc) x muslim!hijabi!reader

Pure fluff and TLC. Just over 1k. No warnings really. One word of Farsi, two in Spanish.

Everything always comes down to a long day of work, but after the day you had, all you wanted to do was go home to your boys and curl up on the couch, with food that you didn’t have to cook yourself, wearing the comfiest clothes you owned.

Crossing the threshold of your shared apartment, you couldn’t wait to take off your hijab and change into something more comfortable than your work attire. Your hair was just not cooperating, there was a pulsing behind your eyes and you desperately wanted a scalp massage. Kicking off your shoes, you didn’t even notice Steven (or was it Marc at the moment?) standing in the kitchen over the stove, looking up at your noisy entrance.

Groaning, you unpinned your scarf and flung it on the sofa on your way to the bedroom. Your mind was so focused on taking a hot shower, one hand absently rubbing the hair on the back of your head. Steven’s eyebrows shot up at the action but he didn’t comment. You were clearly having a hard time, and he was going to give you some space to take care of it until you finished but Jake didn’t let him.

Go help her!

“What d’you mean, she probably wants to be alone right now,” Steven mumbled back.

She could use your hands, our bebita looked tired, Jake sighed in the headspace.

Washing his hands free of the fruit he finished prepping for you both, he left the bowl in search of you. Steven found you sitting on the edge of the bed with your head in your hands, folded almost in half as you shielded yourself from the light.

“Love? You alright?” He reached out a hand to your shoulder, watching as your head moved up to look at him with pain clear on your face. “What’s wrong? What can I do?”

“Steven, my head…”

“Another migraine?” You nodded slowly. “I’ve got just the thing.”

You felt his presence leave you, waiting for him to come back with whatever he thought might help you. The lights in the apartment dimmed, and he also shut off the TV that was on earlier, making the space much more relaxing for you.

But still, he didn’t return.

After some more shuffling, he finally came back to you, gently urging you to the floor in front of the bed. You weren’t in a state to question him so you complied with your eyes closed, the map of your apartment ingrained to memory by now.

The sounds in the apartment were amplified with your decreased vision. You could hear Steven’s deep breathing behind you. The unmistakable sound of a pump being pressed, liquid gushing out. Hands slapping together, rubbing. The smell of lemons, rosemary and jasmine hitting your nose. Your head was still pounding, hair still falling uncomfortably, but you were able to breathe easier.

Steven’s hands worked themselves into your hair, his digits combing through to coat the strands in the oil he had grabbed from the bathroom. The pads of his fingers started working in circular motions, moving across your head from your hairline to the nape of your neck, pressing his thumbs in when he reached there. You couldn’t help the pathetic sound you let out, and Steven sniffed out a laugh in response.

He repeated this motion until you felt like he had lifted all your roots and soothed them with the oil treatment, his deft fingers providing you with such relief that you couldn’t even open your eyes if you wanted to at that point.

See, told you she needed help. Jake was so smug for someone who sat back and watched Steven do all the work. Marc was taking mental notes.

Head still hanging between your shoulders, he continued to gently massage your neck until he kissed your head and pulled you to stand, guiding your drowsy figure to the shower.

Leaving you to rinse the day and hair oil away, he went to find some comfortable clothes for you to change into once you were finished. Steven dug through your basket of clean clothes - why did you have a full basket of clean - never mind. He would help you put them away later. Finally settling on a pair of soft cotton pajamas, he laid them out on the bed for you. He was going to wait for you on the couch and try to pick something for the two of you to watch until it was time for dinner.

On the other side of the wall, you were going through the motions of your regular shower but with half your mind present. The other half was with your partner, thoughts focused on the man in the living room and how sweet he treated you always. Your fingers combed through your hair, working on detangling what you could with your conditioner as the hot water sprayed on your back.

Finishing sooner than you thought - how long were you in there actually you had no concept of time - you walked out in a daze, only to find one of your favourite sets waiting for you. Slipping into the cozy clothing and drying your hair lazily, you finally walked out to see your favourite person.

“Delbar*?” You called out to him.

“In here, love.”

Turning the corner as you approached him, Steven looked up at you with such tenderness that you wanted to cry. This adorable, generous man, who you realized you didn’t even greet when you came home, came to your aid with zero hesitation and made you feel so pampered.

Joining him on the couch and burrowing your way into his side, his arms came around you soon enough to hold you close as you decided on what movie to watch for the evening.

Later, sometime between the first and second heist in Fantastic Mr Fox, after sharing the fruit he had so thoughtfully cut up for you, you thank him, peppering his face with kisses the way Marc hates. You have a feeling he actually feels really good when you do it but isn’t used to it, so you take advantage of Steven allowing you to, getting all the cute aggression out of your system (impossible). Jake has a nasty habit of doing it right back but deliberately being extra sloppy when he does so you’re left feeling like a dog licked your face, and you didn’t want that fresh out of the shower.

“Princesa…”

Uh oh.

*Delbar = my heart / my love / the one who holds my heart

#steven grant fluff #Steven grant x reader #steven grant fanfiction #moon knight fluff #moon knight imagine #steven grant imagine #steven grant my beloved #moon knight x you #steven grant x you #mona writes???

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cyberrat · 2 months

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Okay so, two thoughts have been rattling around in my head. One thing you said before stuck with me; Angel is a bottom, but Husk is a SUB. The other thought is that no one assumes Angel is a strong as he is. He's a twink, but he's also a pole dancer, and you've gotta be pretty damn strong to pull off those moves.

I can picture Husk and Angel hanging out together on one of their beds, just watching a movie and sassily bantering to each other. Angel makes a comment ("See that worm? That's you~"), Husk snorts and tosses a pillow at him. Feigning annoyance, Angel pounces on him with a laugh, and the two start wrestling. After a minute or two Angel has Husk pinned below him, straddling him with his upper arms pinning Husk's hands above his head. Husk struggles to get up but can't.

"Wuh- Why are you so strong??"

Angel giggles, looking down at him.

"You gotta be pretty fit tah be in porn. Do you've any idea how many hours a day I gotta shoot? ... Plus, y'know, I'm a pole-dancer."

Husk huffs, "Yeaaah, and I'm old and outta shape."

The old demon gently struggles to unpin himself, but finds himself becoming distracted by the flex of Angel's slender arms, his strong shoulders ... their eyes meet after a moment. Husk barely registers that he's breathing heavy now, face getting rather warm.

Angel chuckles low, eyes half lidded as a cheeky grin creeps along the edge of his mouth.

"Hmmmmm~ How you feelin' Husky~?" As he says this, Angel shifts Husks arms and pins them to his side, holding him in place. His lower arms are braced beside Husk's shoulders, allowing him to lean in close.

"D'you like it when I'm in charge~?"

Husk swallows, trying to keep his composure but his wings tremble slightly with excitement.

"Maybe ... maybe I wouldn't mind," he breathes softly.

Mmmmhhnnnnn this really gets me to wondering how that encounter would continue. Love you for leaving a drabble in my box 😩👏 might write a lil something something for this tomorrow??

But yes… Angel absolutely tops from the bottom. Maybe he gets a collar and a leash out from one of his many stashes and it‘s soft and with pink faux fur. And he‘s all grins and giddy until he turns around with it in his hands and sees Husk‘s expression.

Like he‘s not *afraid* obviously, but that expression is just so complex. Maybe he‘s worried Angel might try to make him into a pet? Or maybe he really wants it?

But Angel curling the collar around his throat and sweet talking him the whole time what a cute kitty cat he is and just super leaning into the pet play… and his gamble hitting gold because Husk just *eats it up*.

Like full on vibrating, waiting to get used, mounting Angel in a mating press and going crazy the harder Angel pulls on the leash.

Just so happy to serve someone who could literally bench press him.

#hazbin hotel #huskerdust #bottom angel #sub husk

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lulu2992 · 2 months

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I noticed something else regarding Far Cry New Dawn promotional content, this time in the Announcement Trailer.

youtube

In the video, The Twins threaten the people of Prosperity before brutally executing someone. They say:

Mickey: Listen here, rabbits. You need to understand something: the only currency left in this world is power. We’re going to take everything from you, starting with your home. And if we can’t take it... Lou: ...we’ll break it.

Mickey doesn’t finish her sentence because she expects Lou to, and we can assume that what Lou adds is exactly what Mickey would have said had she been alone. There’s a great connection and synergy between them.

In the game, the moment they threaten Prosperity happens differently. First, they don’t come right at the gate but stay at a distance. Secondly, instead of beating someone to death with her helmet (which is something she still does in the prologue), Lou places an unpinned grenade in a child’s hands. Finally, they only talk to Carmina and the Captain, and part of what they say, while very reminiscent of the speech we heard in the trailer, isn’t identical to it:

Mickey: The only currency in this world is power. You-- you made us look weak. That ends now. We are going to take everything that you hold dear. Starting with your home. Lou: And if we can't take it, we'll break it.

The major difference here is that Mickey’s sentence was over, and I don’t think she expected Lou to say anything. Yet, she’s barely done talking when her sister decides to speak... much to Mickey’s annoyance, it seems, as this is her reaction:

The Twins remain very connected and don’t really seem to be in conflict in the game, but I think it’s interesting that Mickey rolls her eyes because of Lou’s comment. Yes, they can still be physically and mentally synchronized, but sometimes, they can also have slightly diverging opinions and get annoyed with each other because, at the end of the day, they’re separate people with different personalities. In my opinion, compared to what the trailer originally showed, the final version of the scene humanizes them more.

#far cry new dawn #mickey #lou #the twins #mickey and lou #I often feel like I should give fcnd a second chance because not everything was bad #there are some cool details like this one #also it looks pretty #I rewatched some cutscenes and they were fine too #...in fact I mostly dislike ethan #and it’s not even because he’s a bad character #I mean he’s a brat and a traitor but the writing and acting are fine #really I just hate that they made him exist in the first place #and that kind of ruined the game for me #gifs I made

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axailslink · 1 year

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What kind of fair date are they?

A/n: I know it's no longer fair date season (at least not where I live) but I just have to do it in honor of valentine's day coming up but that has nothing to do with this fic anyways enjoy.

Riri williams 🤎

(Definitely eats all the sweets and complains about it later.)

Riri has stopped for every food or sweet related truck since you both arrived and you're not upset but oh she's going to be later when she's throwing up and calling you. While Riri focuses on what you're both going to eat you're currently tossing rings around these dumb fucking glass milk bottles hoping to get her a teddy or something to take home. You've been at it for ten minutes now you probably spent more money here than for the bracelets on both your wrists but you're determined. You smell something sweet behind you and that's all you need to know that tells you that it's Riri. She places a gentle peck on your lips as you continue tossing the plastic rings "what'd you get me?" She shrugs "nachos and got myself cotton candy I'm not all that hungry" you nod as you finally toss your last ring. "Not hungry or full of the ice cream you bought earlier?" Riri laughs and shrugs "I'll regret it later right now eat one of these nachos" Riri carefully lifts one to your mouth and you eat it. "Fucking weirdo" you comment as you chew it and return to the tossing game. "Fucking loser" she replies seeing as you suck at this whole ring tossing game thing.

Shuri Udaku 🤎

(wins all the booth games and gives you the teddies she wins because you claimed you never got one from the fair.)

Shuri has stacked up on the amount of teddy bears she's won for you she's damn near played every set up game here. At first you were flattered but now you're wondering where the hell you're going to put all of these plushies and teddy bears. "My love I think we should go now..." Shuri shrugs "I have one more game one more plush to win. "You've won damn near everything I think you've made your point" Shuri sighs "you told me you could never win the crooked games at the fair so I'm going to win everyone. Can you let me do that for you?" You can't help but smile and shake your head "we're going to be here all fucking night" you sigh and sit on the edge of the booth "but go ahead I enjoy watching you spend your money." Shuri rolls her eyes and laughs.

Rosalie Otterbourne 🤎

Pretty girl refuses to get on any of the rides but loves anything that will possibly get her wet or dirty (rides the animatronic bull) *let's just imagine she went to a fair in our time you know since her character is based in like the 1930s*

Rosie does not know how to have fun she's been stuck to you like glue since you've arrived she's more attracted to the set up booths than the actual rides. You've finally managed to pull her away from the set up booths you can see she's bored but she says nothing as she carefully walks over the grass trying not to scuff her shoes. Her eyes finally catch something that grabs her attention quickly "hold this" Rosalie leaves you with her wallet as she hurriedly goes over to the woman controlling the bull you sigh and follow behind. When you catch up she's already on the bull holding onto the rope you pay the woman as you put her name on the list and watch. Rosalie's beautiful smile is quick to return to her face as the woman turns the bull on. It starts slow first and she's easily holding on with one hand but it's quick to speed up and you're just laughing as she struggles to keep on but she's not letting go easily. She's glancing at you while the bull is going back and forth wildly causing her hair to unpin. After a while the bull moves erratically causing her to finally fall but she's quick to get up and laugh it off. You shake your head as she walks over and hugs you laughing in your ear. "You should go next" you shake your head "absolutely not" she pulls you towards the bull "yes! C'mon have fun show me how long you can ride the bull" she winks at you and you nod. "Oh you want to see how long I can ride?" She nods "yeah show me a little something something" she shakes her shoulders and you laugh watching her as she pulls you to the woman.

Jamie Harrison 🤎

Tries hard to win you teddies but is kind of a sore loser so you win them for her instead will she act completely pissed yeah? Will she cherish that teddy for life? Absolutely.

Jamie has won nothing it's amusing to watch her try so hard then win nothing in return. You enjoy watching her little fits afterwards she's mumbling curses and rubbing her hands together. She sees you laughing and she's quick to cock her brow "what? You can do better?" You nod "baby I can do best pick a game any game." Jamie walks over to the balloon popping game and you sigh "I fucking hate this game" Jamie smiles and kisses your cheek "for good luck smartass" you pay the man and he hands you three darts. "Alrighty miss you get three darts and three chances to get three of the same color but since you're so pretty how about you get any three of them colors I give you a small prize?" You laugh "nah I'm aiming for a big one for my girl" the guy nods and moves out of the way. With ease you pop three red balloons and Jamie's a sore fucking loser as she watches you give her the plush she was supposed to give you instead. "I don't like you" you laugh and walk off "you weren't saying that last night" you sing Jamie smiles to herself as she follows behind you. "Obviously I was too busy teaching you how to play the guitar!" You laugh and correct yourself "I'm sorry I meant the night before last."

Vivienne Scott (Scotty) 🤎

Scotty strays away from the booth games claiming that they are "fixed"

"C'mon you don't want to get on the rollercoaster and you won't eat here because let's be honest seven dollars for ice cream is fucking ridiculous... Just play one of the booths with me and win us a teddy bear or something." Scotty shakes her head as she glances at the closest booth "they're all fixed they just take your money and you get no prize" you hum and shake your head "nah you probably just suck at the games" you nudge her shoulder and she scoffs "I do not" you nod slowly "you literally have no hand correlation you couldn't catch a ball in slow motion." Scotty laughs and shakes her head "I could... possibly" you laugh and grab her hand "well don't worry your hands are good for something else." Scotty stares at you and shakes her head in disappointment "really? That doesn't make me feel better I want to win you a plush" you smile and pull her towards the booth. "Then go on win me a teddy big head" Scotty smiles at you "if I lose this booth is rigged" you shake your head "nah you just fucking suck."

A/n: Not really edited because I'm terrible at editing and watching the TWD at the same. Anyways happy early valentine's or not because not everyone celebrates holidays.

Taglist:

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@darkangelchronicles

@writesbyriri

@locoforshuri

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kiatheinsomniac · 2 years

Note

Hi! You're a talented writer and for that, I thank you for sharing your stories with us. Answering some of our requests and/or questions. May I request something for Thranduil, please? I don't really have a plot in mind but angst with fluff would be good. Oh wait, what about they're fighting in front of little Legolas about something then Legolas got scared?

Notes: Thank you so much for the compliments! Sorry that it's taken me a while to get around to your request but my exams are over now.

Pairing: Thranduil x Reader

Word count: 1.1k

Nobles are a trial

You weren’t sure which was more sour: your mood or the god awful wine that the diplomats had brought with them. You had spent the past two hours seething over a comment that a noble had made about you being a pretty trophy for the King, coming from a very high-class family and being good-looking as you were. You were prepared to deliver a quick retort to remind the laughing aristocrat of their place when the sound of your husband’s laughter joining in made you freeze in a feeling of betrayal as he merely glossed over the comment.

You didn’t try to hide your bitter mood from him after that, doing things that you knew he would pick up on but remaining civil enough to not give the noble any sense of satisfaction. He had never done something like this before! He was always as quick to demand that you be respected as you were to do the same for him when in the presence of your armed forces.

You would see to it that you gave your husband a tongue-lashing enough to assure that he would never allow such comments to be made again. You would remain patient until the proper time, until you found yourself in the privacy of your shared chambers - you had been raised to know of proper times and places, after all.

“You’ve been terribly quiet this evening, meleth nîn (my love).” Thranduil commented as he removed the heavy outer layer of his robes that shimmered a pale gold. You felt your jaw tighten as all the offence that had been building within you burst like a dam.

“I suppose that would be because trophies don’t talk, do they?” There was an acid in your voice and you set the goblet of wine down with too much force.

“I beg your pardon?” You watched Thranduil’s thick brows furrow and it made you even angrier that he would not remember laughing at such an objectifying comment aimed towards you.

“Well don’t look so confused now, you seemed so very amused when you first heard it.” You sat in front of your mirror to unpin your hair from the style that your most trusted servant had styled it into that morning. You scoffed at his blank expression reflected in the mirror from behind you. “Do you truly not know of what I speak?” You spun around, growing all the angrier that he could not remember the words that had put you in such a terrible mood.

“Meleth, I have no interest in guessing games, tell me what has upset you and we shall resolve it.” You spun around and glared at him, aware that he was using the same tone that he used with delegates and diplomats who were being stubborn.

“Do not use that voice with me! I speak of the aristocrat who called me your ‘pretty trophy’ and you said nothing to defend me! You laughed along with him!” You had stood from your stool now, storming over to your husband and poking an accusatory finger at his chest.

“I would never, ever, allow someone to speak of you in such a way! And you laughed! You laughed with him! Is that what I am to you? Some exclusive pick for a King to flaunt?”

“You’re far too angry about this. Had you said something to me when it happened, I would have-”

“I was far too embarrassed to say at the time because you were preoccupied with laughing!” You exploded, ears deaf to how loud your voice had raised in your anger, feeling the ache at the back of your throat from repressing any frustrated tears or sobs. “Laughing about me being a trophy for you!”

“You are no such thing. You are the mother of my he-”

“Then why didn’t you say that then?! It means little now!” You threw your hands up in the air and the coolness of your lover’s expression only served to fuel your anger further:. He showed the slightest signs of being affected by your outburst: a tightened jaw and slightly furrowed brows, his eyes seemingly disinterested.

“Adar? Naneth? (Father? Mother?)” You froze at the sound of the quiet and intimidated voice. Your hands fell to your sides as you turned to see little hands curling around the corner of the door that stood ajar. Golden locks hung freely around his flushed little face and his blue eyes were brimmed with tears, bottom lip trembling. You had frightened your son.

You felt terrible at seeing his scared and worried face. You felt Thranduil’s hand land at your lower back and he crouched down, his touch encouraging you to do the same.

“Legolas.” His voice was soft, “Come here.” Your little elfling trotted across the room and stood between the two of you as you crouched on the floor.

“Naneth, why are you arguing?” His eyes looked like oceans on a rainy day and it had you fighting back your own tears as your lips parted, looking for a way to explain things to him. You had overreacted, certainly could have dealt with this more calmly, and it was your job to not teach him to act as such, your job to be a good role model for him.

“Someone said something unkind about your mother today and I did not do anything to defend her when I should have.” Thranduil replied, opening his free arm to invite Legolas into a hug, wrapping his strong arms around his son as his other hand curled around your waist, bringing you closer to.

“And I was angrier at your father than I was at that someone which was not right. I owe him an apology.” Your eyes turned from your son to your husband whose face had now softened as the three of you held each other in a long embrace. All of you cared little for the fact that you were on the floor. Being together and letting the argument dissolve into peace. Your hand smoothed down Legolas’ golden hair and you felt Thranduil’s lips brush against your temple in a sweet kiss. When he whispered to you next, it was so quiet that Legolas would not hear it:

“You will point out this noble to me and he shall be punished accordingly, am I understood? It breaks our hearts to see the most precious elleth in our lives so upset.” You nodded your head gently and leaned into your husband, pulling your son closer and sighing at feeling him rest his head at the top of your chest. In letting your anger simmer, you had created an argument where it was unnecessary but all would be resolved soon enough. Your mouth curled up into a smile Thranduil’s lips on your cheek.

#thranduil oropherion #thranduil x reader #thranduil #thranduil x you #elvenking #legolas #tolkien elves

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anxiousgaypanicking · 6 months

Text

Micro/Macro

hey guys lol while i was posting my big bang on tumblr i was also posting kinktober on ao3 so yall are getting the first few chapters like a month late but shhhhh

Dukexiety (Remus x Virgil) Kinktober 2023 Day One: Micro/Macro Warnings: micro/macro, overstimulation, humping

Virgil is rather carelessly dropped onto a pillow, and though he contemplates wrapping his nude body up in the pillowcase, a couple unidentifiable stains quickly dissuade him from doing so.

Not that it'd be very worthwhile anyway, considering Remus was very quickly stripping himself of his own clothes, meaning Virgil would just hide his body only to be unceremoniously grabbed and exposed once more, though this time it'd be for Remus's pleasure.

So, Virgil instead sits on his knees, arms between his thighs as he watches Remus strip with a flushed expression.

To some extent he's embarrassed of himself for agreeing to let Remus use him whenever he desired. It was just a random thing he'd consented to, but it has very quickly changed the direction of his day-to-day life. Each week was filled with at least two solid rounds of sex, and a lot more teasing and experimentation.

This was an example of the latter.

Virgil has never been shrunk before, but finds himself excited at the prospect. Though, he is admittedly worried about being squashed under Remus's body in one way or another.

As Remus quickly gets his boxers off, though, Virgil watches as he wastes no time throwing himself onto the bed, and nearly flinging Virgil into the ceiling in the process.

Virgil has to grip tight to the pillow to keep from being jostled as Remus gets himself comfortable, and then turns the pillow so that it's vertical in front of him. Virgil's left dizzy by the sudden movement, but a rough finger is being pressed against his chest and pushing him down onto his back before he can catch his bearings.

He gasps as he hits the pillow, forced to stare up at Remus's grinning form.

"So helpless," Remus purrs, all too delighted by this notion. He has his other hand wrapped around his cock, and is stroking it sloppily. "I could crush you with a simple flick if I wanted to."

"Please don't," Virgil meekly says, though he's unsure if Remus can even hear him.

A response reaffirms him though, as Remus shrugs. "I won't. Not right now, anyway. Smothering you seems much more fun!"

He leans over the pillow, cock dragging across the fabric and leaving a trail of precome where it travels, leading right up to Virgil's small body, which is trapped right under the slit. There's no weight yet, as Remus focuses on properly straddling the pillow, but it leaves Virgil's body hot in anticipation.

Remus's head hangs down, messy hair falling towards the bed, as Virgil looks behind him. They make eye contact, and Remus grins.

"You look irresistible," he comments, before carelessly relaxing his body and falling fully against the pillow. His waist and chest are pressed against it, and he wastes no time wrapping his arms tightly around the object in order to squeeze it harder against him.

Virgil is immediately crushed by Remus's hard cock, pushed tightly against his tiny body, trapping him to the pillow he's resting against. It's not painful; thankfully the soft backboard serves to allow him to sink a little into the fluff, but it means he's a lot more constrained. Moving at all is difficult, and he loves it.

He moans, though he's sure Remus can't hear him this time, as Remus desperately tries to hold himself back.

Virgil knows Remus is waiting for him to start moving to signify he's okay. That he's excited, even! And Virgil has the insatiable urge to do just that, it's just a bit of a struggle.

He wiggles a little bit, attempting to unpin his arms. Once he does, he's quick to wrap them around Remus's shaft, flushing dark when his arms barely get around half of it. His legs reach up to straddle the base of the cock, pushing his own small shaft against Remus's and grinding slightly against it, moaning immediately at the miniscule amount of friction.

But his slight grinding is enough to notify Remus of his wellbeing, which Remus wants to immediately ruin. In the best way, of course.

Rough as ever, Remus starts his own grinding, forcefully rubbing his cock against the pillow beneath him and groaning as he feels Virgil's small body being ground beneath him.

He knows he's already leaking precome, but that only spurs on his grinding, excited to give his tiny a nice thick layer of glaze.

Remus's cock fucks hard against Virgil's, torturing him with intense pleasure as his body is forced up and down and deeper against the pillow.

Precome smears into his hair, over his face, across his body. A fair amount of it gushes into his mouth, leaving him choking and coughing as he swallows as much as he can. It's bitter and salty, but he can hardly focus on his disgust when his pleasure is much more prevalent.

His body is hot and jolting with constant pleasure due to the friction against his cock and nipples, making him whine and cry out constantly, though he knows they won't be stopping until Remus decides he's done.

Muffled groans and dramatic moans reach his ears, though much of what he hears is the wet slapping of Remus's cock against his body and the clap of his balls from how fast he's humping.

Remus's only motivation comes from chasing his orgasm, and Virgil is just a means to help him achieve that. He doesn't care whether Virgil comes or not, or even if he can move! He only cares about how good that small squirming feels!

Though, eventually his curiosity begins to eat at him and he decides he has to see Virgil.

He pulls up, sitting back on his calves, and is confused at first as he sees nothing more but a slick, damp stain on his pillow case, with no tiny man in sight. He scratches his head, before he feels something slide against his cock, and then Virgil's falling from it, and back onto the pillows below, sticky with come.

His own semen isn't noticeable at all among the translucent goop he's soaked in, making him look damp and lubed.

Remus can't help but grin cheerily at the sight, watching the way Virgil's small body twitches and moves ever so slightly, but otherwise stays spread out.

Remus's hand moves slow over his shaft as he gets off to just staring at Virgil, before using the tip of his finger he's pulling it up and back, only to suddenly let go and watch as his fock smacks against Virgil's body with a wet squelching sound and a barely audible cry.

He drags the tip of his cock over Virgil's body, stroking his shaft in a way that almost makes it look as though he's squeezing precome out of it, before he lifts his cock up again.

Virgil's hardly given a respite before it's dropped back onto him and the process repeats, with pre being spilled over his body, coating him in a thick layer, and making him cough as he tries fruitlessly to wipe his face, only for it to quickly be recoated.

When Remus pulls his cock back up again, Virgil is a bit more ready for him to drop it down again, but he isn't prepared to once more stick to the side.

This time Remus doesn't let him drop down however, and grabs Virgil with his fingers before he can do so.

He's then cupped in the palm of Remus's hand, and rather tightly forced up against Remus's cock, trapped by the hand squeezing him against the shaft from behind.

It's suffocating as he's stuck against the sticky surface, overwhelmed by the smell of sweat and the bitter taste of come that's essentially tainted his tongue. Yet, he lets it roll out of his mouth and drag along the side of Remus's cock as Remus begins pumping him up and down, using Virgil's small body to continue stimulating himself.

Virgil's cock drags along Remus's cock as well, and he squirms as a result, even though he knows he can't escape. It's so intense and overstimulating, and he already feels himself nearing another orgasm from the minimal amount of friction.

He cries out pathetically, whimpering at the assault on his body, but his cries go unheard, and he loves it.

He's moved up and down so violently he swears it'll give him vertigo, until he's stalled at the top. Virgil attempts to look over at Remus to gauge what he's thinking, but Remus's thumb is pressing down on the back of his head, burying Virgil's head in the slit.

He hears Remus grunt, and then moan, and Virgil barely has time to shut his eyes before he's drowned in a flood of Remus's come.

He's left gagging and spluttering, drinking down what he can to keep from fully choking on the semen. He swallows down so much that he feels his stomach ache, and he momentarily thinks it might just never end, until finally Remus lets go of him and once again Virgil falls back onto the pillow beneath him, although this time it's not significantly wetter.

He coughs, laying limp as he tries to catch his breath. But Remus isn't done with him.

Carefully, Remus brings a finger back down to Virgil, and very softly drags it over Virgil's straining cock, rubbing him to a quick and messy orgasm that Virgil only has a few seconds to prepare for, before he finally pulls away, leaning back on his knees as he stares at the ruined tiny beneath him.

Virgil's panting is nearly as loud as Remus's, but it makes Remus muse at just how exhausted Virgil is.

"Have fun?" Remus teases, which has Virgil whining as he curls up into the fetal position, trembling with sensitivity.

"Fuck off," is Virgil's only response, but he leans against Remus's soft palm as Remus gently scoops him up, letting himself be tended for in Remus's own weird way.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #sanders sides #sanders sides smut #not safe for sanders #agp smut #agp kinktober #dukexiety #dukexiety smut #micro/macro

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mytheoristavenue · 1 year

Text

OP Usopp x Tailor!Reader - In stitches

Summary: You are the Straw Hat's newest member, their official tailor, and as your first order Luffy instructs you to make everyone new outfits for a event he plans to make an appearance at. This is all fine, until it's time for you to take Usopp's measurements.

Warnings: Fluff, suggestive situations

You sighed happily standing in the middle of your brand new workshop. You felt it was incredibly kind of Franky to build you a space to yourself, wanting nothing in return than for you to mend a few of his Hawaiian shirts. Today was your first official day of work, having only joined the crew less than a week ago. As for your first project, your captain asked you to fashion every member a new outfit to attend an upcoming festival, hosted by an island that the ship will be docking at very soon. You were so excited to get to work as you dragged your gaze along all of the bolts of different colors and textures, before darting over to your desk, instantly sparking ideas and needing to sketch them.

-----

"Thank you for being so patient," you complimented to the ravenette who stood on your modelling pedestal. "I'm still a little nervous to be here."

"It's my pleasure," Robin reassured. "If anything, I should be thanking you, the designs you've come up with are stunning." your cheeks flushed a bit as you took a step back to view the fabric you'd pinned to her, the skirt taking shape with a beautiful royal purple sheen.

"Thank you, ma'am." you beamed, unpinning the fabric, and jotting down the dimensions of her waist. "It's really nice to hear you say that! Everyone here has such a unique sense of fashion, I hope I can do them justice."

"Please, call me Robin," she corrected with a giggle, suppressed by her hand. "And just from looking at these, I can promise you will. You're a very talented young woman." she praised, flipping through the sketch book you'd made all your plans in. "Honestly, I just hope this dress looks as pretty on me as it does in this picture. Hopefully I can do it justice too."

You giggled at her comments, silently wondering if they were all true, or possibly just wishful thinking. "Alright, I think I've got all the measurements I need for the moment. I'll call you back in if I need any more." you excused, checking the wall clock and acknowledging that you still had nine more Straw Hats to measure, all in one day.

"I look forward to it, thank you, (Y/N)." she smiled, waving her hand as she stepped down from the pedestal and went for the door. "I'll send Sanji in."

-----

You wiped your brow, taking a small break, and sitting at your desk to go over your notes. "Let's see," you thought aloud. "I've already done Robin, Sanji, Nami, Zoro, and Brook." you read their names back to yourself, sifting through their individual files, consisting of measurements, and designs, as well as any notes they had on them. "Now I've got Usopp, Luffy, Chopper, Franky, and Jinbe left." you sighed, already very tired, and only half way done with the easy part.

Just then, you heard a very soft knock on your door, and watched it creak open, revealing the long nosed man you'd come to know as Usopp. "Oh, hello, come in!" you chirped, urging him to enter fully and shut the door behind him. "Give me just one moment!"

Usopp did as you asked, taking in his surroundings and watching you bustle around the shop, picking items up and putting them in different places, straightening up papers on the desk, and finally, gathering a new set of things he didn't recognize, and setting them close to a pedestal in the middle of the room. "Come, stand right here." you smiled warmed, patting the round platform.

You frowned, taking in his appearance, perhaps you should have warned the crew members what they should wear before measuring. Currently, the man before you wore overalls and a thick long sleeved shirt, both of which wouldn't be right for accurate measurements.

"Something wrong?" he asked, cocking a brow as he watching you curiously while you swiveled around on a rolling stool.

"Yes, actually." you confirmed. "I'm sorry, I should have informed you on what to wear, but I can't measure over your clothes."

"Y-You want me to take 'em off?" he asked, a bit embarrassed and unsure.

You blushed a bit at the prospect of what he was most likely imagining. "You don't have to, if you want to come back later, you can go change, and I can measure someone else in the meantime!" you offered with a nervous smile, but he declined.

"Nah, I'll just take 'em off. Its just for a minute, right?" he reasoned, already unhooking the straps of his overalls and tossing them over his shoulder. You couldn't help but fluster. You'd noticed that he'd been seemingly very comfortable with an exposed chest, but he wasn't going to completely strip, right?

When you refocused, you the glow in your cheeks brightened. Usopp was now shirtless, with the front of his overalls hanging down at his waist, a hint of jet curls spilling over his waistline. You had to admit, he was much more toned that you would have thought. "This okay?" he asked, bashfully glancing away. You nodded as a response.

Standing, you pulled your tape measurer from your apron pocket and began comparing it to his body, doing your very best not to stare. Occasionally, you would bend over and jot down a few numbers into a notepad that was beside you. The sniper couldn't help but feel a bit shy as your cold fingers grazed his skin. You were so focused, and the way your brows furrowed when you concentrated had him weak at the knees.

Eventually you finished, taking a step back to review the notes you'd installed beside his design. "Alright, are you comfortable with removing your pants if I turn around?" you asked suddenly. Usopp felt his face burn with embarrassment at the query.

"I thought it was just my shirt you needed off?" he asked timidly, laughing nervously and rubbing the back of his exposed neck.

"I want your pants to fit as well as possible. I won't get a good measurement around your overalls, they're too thick." you explained, thinking of the way the material for you planned to use might be uncomfortable if it were too loose. "Or, if you'd like to change into some shorts-" You began to bustle around the shop again, gathering the scraps the you complied to see how his colors contrasted. You cut off as you lifted a bolt of green pleather by the sound of fabric shifting, accompanied by the twinkling of metal fasteners colliding.

Turning back to him, your face caught fire, and you instantly dropped the bolt, covering your eyes with your palms, peaking though the cracks in your fingers. "I-I'm sorry, I was going to let you step out and change." you clarified.

Usopp stood on your pedestal, stripped down to stiped blue and white boxers, his discarded clothing draped over his arm as he stared at you blankly. "It's fine," he shrugged. "You're on a time crunch, right? As long as your not taking pictures or anything, I don't mind." You were astonished by his serenity with being nearly naked in front of someone he'd only known a week. You nodded quickly, simply wanting the moment to end, the humiliation far too much for you.

Sitting on your stool again, you rolled up to him, comparing your tape measure to his legs, silently admiring their definition. Finally, it was time for the inseam, no big deal right? Shakily, you lifted your hand to his groin, straightening the tape to his ankle. You felt him jolt under your touch, hunching slightly to put distance between himself and you hand. "W-Whoa, what are you doing?" he stammered, his cheeks dusting a rosy hue.

"Taking your inseam?" you replied, trying to remain as calm as possible. "It's the seam the runs along the inner side of your pants leg."

"Oh," he realized, reluctantly moving back into position. "A-and that's close to my...?"

"The inseam runs from the crotch to the ankle." you reassured. "Don't worry, Usopp, I'm not trying to put the moves on you." you giggled, feeling him relax a bit under your fingers.

"R-Right, heh." he laughed a bit with you. "Sorry."

"It's okay, it is a little awkward, isn't it?" he nodded with a nervous grin. "Now just be as still as you can, and we'll get this over with, hmm?" With little more said, Usopp straightened himself and allowed you to finish his measurements. "Now, we get to do the fun part." you chirped, rolling over to your desk and grabbing your sketchpad, flipping to his file.

"So, this was what I had in mind, just from pulling examples from your preexisting wardrobe." you began, running through the outfit with him and giving him all the reasons for your choices. "Luffy wants us all to have a sense of uniformity, with a hint of this colorful mafia type of vibe."

Usopp gazed intently at the sketch of himself, noting all the most prevalent features and hues. The idea consisted of a stylish Italian suit, comprised of a snow white sports jacket, an orange silk dress shirt that was left unbuttoned at the top to expose the collarbones, and most worrisome of all, lime green leather pants. "Green pants?" he asked, taking notice of the bolt of material you'd gathered earlier. "I'm not sure green looks too good on me."

Your shoulders slumped a bit. That was your favorite part of his design, but if he disliked it, you'd be happy to change it. "I disagree," you smiled, taking a scrap of the pleather and holding it against his forearm. "It chartreuse, by the way. And I think it contrasts beautifully with your skin tone."

"You think so?" Usopp blushed, never having really considered that aspect when picking his own clothes before.

"That and this aerospace silk is going to really pull the white and the green together." you continued, pulling a bolt or rusty orange form the wall. "Then I was thinking some white wing tipped shoes with the ankle exposed, and some gold chains instead of a tie." He sat for a moment and listened to you ramble, his heart melting a bit at the amount of care you'd put into making him look good. He never really had an eye for fashion, he just threw things together that he liked by themselves.

"Of course," your voice snapped him out of his stupor and his gaze once again continued to follow you around the shop. "It's your decision, if you want anything different, I'll be happy to oblige!"

"No, I like it." he confessed with a small smile. "You really put a lot of thought into it, didn't you?"

You nodded bashfully. "I wanted to makes sure I did well on my first assignment. I hope I can prove my worth to everyone." You lifted the sketchpad from his hands, hugging it closely. "Besides, what kind of tailor would I be if I let my crew go out in designs I didn't even like myself?"

"You don't need to be so nervous," he comforted, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You're doing great, and if Luffy wasn't sure you'd be worth bringing on, he would've left you in your village." An air of serenity fell between you both as you smiled bashfully at the floor. "Besides, I think you're doing great."

"Do you really mean that?" you asked with glowing cheeks.

"Yeah," he laughed. "I think everyone does. I was talking to Robin earlier and she was bragging on you pretty hard."

You beamed up at his with glossy eyes, fists held to your chest in excitement. "Really? What did she say?"

Usopp snickered, squeezing your shoulder comfortingly. "She said she'd never seen such a pretty dress." You sat for a moment and stewed in the crew's praise, nearly trembling with overwhelming joy.

-----

About a week later, you sat at your desk, humming softly, your socked foot bouncing happily on the pedal of your new, state of the art sewing machine. Gently, you pushed a slice of very stretchy pink cotton though, attaching it to an identical piece. You smiled brightly at it, envisioning the embroidery you would soon adorn it with, and how adorable it'll look on Chopper's shirt.

"Morning, Bobbin," a masculine voice called, letting himself into your shop unannounced. You rolled your eyes at the stupid nickname.

"Good morning, Usopp." you giggled as he strode over to you, setting a cup of tea down at the corner of your desk, far from spilling rang. "And I still don't think you know that that means."

He laughed you comment off, looking over your shoulder with a smile. "What're you working on?"

"Chopper's outfit." you answered with a grin. "I've got the vest and bow tie done, now I just have to finish the shirt and his slacks."

"Looks good," he complimented, sipping from his own cup. "By the way, what did you need me for?" he asked, referring to your request for him to visit you, last night.

"I need you to try on your outfit so I can make sure it fits properly." you replied, adjusting the settings on your machine. "It's in bag number three on the rack."

Usopp strolled over to it, immediately shedding his casual clothes. He'd gotten used to the feeling of being less than decent around you from all the alterations and measurements he'd had down as of late. He couldn't help but marvel at your craftsmanship as he carefully slipped the silk shirt over his shoulders, before buttoning it down.

Once he was finished, he turned to you, your back still away from him, to ask your opinion. "Should I tuck the shirt, or no?" You glance at him over your shoulder, face heated when you laid eyes on him. You beckoned him over to the modelling pedestal, to which he stepped up. You hummed in thought, taking him in, eyes studying him and noting details.

"How about a half tuck," you suggested, tucking the left side of the shirt loosely into the chartreuse pleather, before smoothing it out. Usopp couldn't help but feel timid at the sensation of you unbuckling his belt and slipping your fingers into the front of his pants, even if it were for a totally legitimate reason. You fastened his belt again, adjusting small things as you saw fit, separating and layering the twinkling gold chains that rested on his chest, and fixing the way his collar rested on it's bone. "I think that looks prefect! What do you think?" You asked, stepping out of the way so he could view himself in the full body mirror that rested against the wall.

Usopp was breathless to say the least. It looked like you'd plucked him right off the page of your sketch pad and magically willed the design into existence. "Oh, one more thing!" you giggled, turning back to your desk, before skipping back over to him, sliding a pair of yellow shades onto his head, acting as a headband for the moment.

"It's perfect," he breathed, still unsure of who else to describe it. "You really did think of everything. I don't think I've every looks so good."

You beamed at his praise, overjoyed tears welling up at his appreciation. "I don't think that's true." you cooed warmly.

"Huh?" your comment took him by surprise and he cocked his head to the side, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Before I came up with all the designs, I took a few days to study the way everyone typically dressed, and took inspiration from that." You explained with a bashful titter. "I think out of everyone's, your style stood out to me the most."

"Why's that?" he asked, blinking, confused.

"You have a habit wearing what you want without restraint. You don't seem to care about clashing colors or patterns. The laws of fashion don't apply to you."

Usopp pouted, crossing his arms. "Are you making fun of me?"

You stifled a laugh and shook your head. "I'm saying I admire you." He visibly stiffened form your compliment, before relaxing with a soft expression. "Those are the types of clothes I like making, ones that don't follow any certain rhyme or reason. Unique ones that just look good for the sake of looking good." You glanced up at him suddenly, starling him a bit, waiting for his reply.

Unfortunately, he was drawing a blank. "Well, I'm glad I could, uh be an inspiration to you?" he tried, not entirely knowing how to respond. "And for what it's worth, your designs are so much cooler than anything I could ever come up with. They reflect your personality a lot."

"How so?"

"Because they may be a little bit out there, but I really like them a lot." he grinned, preparing to laugh at his own joke. Blood rushed at your face as your smile fell into shy surprise. Did Usopp just say he liked you?

"Y-You like me? But why?"

"Because you leave me in stitches."

#usopp x reader #one piece usopp #god usopp #usopp #op #straw hats #straw hat usopp #usopp x you #usopp x y/n #usopp fluff

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the-catboy-minyan · 1 day

Note

Wait what happened on the undertale sub

ok so kinda long story:

it has a rule that says "no politics allowed".

someone posted an artwork of chacacters holding a Palestinian flag (it may have also said "from the river to the sea" but I can't remember), it was mass reported for breaking the sub rules and removed. I'm assuming the sub has a large Israeli following because they I saw a bunch of them show up when someone posted a meme of how Ralsei/Asriel is also an anagram for Israel.

anyways some people were enraged that the post was removed, so one of the mods spoke up without the others agreement and said "hey we didn't remove it, it was Reddit, it's back now and i/p posts are allowed even though there's a rule against it :)"

this started an argument, one side pointed out the hypocrisy, and the other side claimed Undertale is a political game and is "literally about genocide lol". (which is not only a fan name for the route and is never referred to as a genocide in canon, but also it's not the point of the game? it's only one route and it's about the consequences of your fucking actions, it doesn't have any themes about the concept of real world genocide, only howgames usually don't acknowledge the mass murder players commit inside the game's universe).

those who thought politics should be allowed started spamming low effort posts of characters holding Palestinian flags, those who didn't started spamming report and comments talking about how politics should be banned, a few made made low effort pro Israeli posts, it was honestly a mess.

finally another mod got involved and saod "hi guys, this mod made a decision without the rest of the staff, we're gonna ban i/p posts again, but add a masterpost to talk about it in case you really want to, just so it won't spam the sub.

people forgot about it after 2 weeks, and it was later unpinned so people don't even remember it exists anymore. what a shitshow 😂.

#asks

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 2 months

Text

The Waves are Rising and Rising

|Beginning| |Previous|

Chapter 17 - Epilogue

It's the last chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who followed along while we were posting this, it's been so much fun reading all your comments and seeing you love reading this as much as we did writing it. If you aren't quite ready to let go of this universe yet you're in luck, because we weren't either when we finished it and so we've written some extras! They'll be posting in the near future so you should subscribe to the series on AO3 or keep an eye out on things here if you want to read those. There are also some clarifications in the end notes of this chapter on AO3 based on questions we saw cropping up in the comments, so check those out too. Anyway, enjoy the epilogue and thanks again for being here!

--//--

“XIAO-JIUJIU!!!”

Jin Guangyao spares a moment — just one — to press the tip of his index finger between his brows. It probably would have been a better idea to cover his ears, considering Jin Ling’s shriek could likely be used to shatter glass and he’d done it right next to him, but the boy has already detached from clinging to his leg to sprint full-tilt across the courtyard towards the uncle in question, so it’s a lost cause either way.

As much as A-Ling’s manners leave something to be desired, he can’t exactly begrudge the boy his excitement, and in the kindest, most loving way possible it’s a bit of a relief not to have a chatterbox toddler clinging to his skirts anymore, so he doesn’t call out a correction either. Jinlintai is abuzz with a general air of excitement and bustle which Jin Guangyao is, of course, in charge of maintaining and which Jiang Wanyin is still no better at pretending to enjoy even after years as Sect Leader, so he’ll likely be glad for the interruption of his nephew before any socialising begins.

Jin Guangyao dusts himself off and continues on his way with no more than a perfunctory nod to his sort-of-brother-in-law, who returns it with the same as Jin Ling begins talking his ear off where he’s perched on Jiang Wanyin’s hip.

There are only a few more details to oversee, thankfully, and by now Jinlintai runs like a well-oiled machine at the smallest hint of a hosting opportunity, so his presence is really more of a formality than a genuine need. Still, he knows that if one wants things done right one must oversee them oneself, so he directs servants with discreet gestures and nods of thanks or approval; he lets his path take him through the kitchens, where no one stops him in the midst of all their juggling of platters and things bubbling away on the stoves warming the room to nearly-unbearable temperatures. He’s happy not to stop and put out any metaphorical fires — the menu had been agreed upon months ago and the last of the ingredients delivered at first light this morning, there should be nothing to interrupt the well-choreographed dance of a major feast. He checks the gardens next, ensuring that the public areas have been pruned and arranged to their absolute best, and that the private gardens are full of comfortable benches and bowers from which to appreciate the oceans of peonies in bloom.

Jin Guangyao’s route ends in his quarters where he’s finally free to change into the best set of robes he owns — swathes of cream and coral silk, cloth-of-gold, and shining peonies embroidered along the edges of the sleeves and collars that are perfect miniatures of the real things growing just beyond his windows. He smiles to hear the door sliding open as he settles at his dressing table, and by now he doesn’t even have to look to know exactly what comes next. He unpins his everyday guan and unthreads it off his high ponytail, setting it down gently on its tray amongst its compatriots as broad, calloused hands start unwinding the leather tie at the base of the tail so it can be combed out and restyled.

“What are you thinking for today, A-Yao?” Nie Mingjue asks him, already resplendent in his best robes, almost as richly embroidered in silver as Jin Guangyao’s are in gold. Jin Guangyao hums as his eyes trace what he can see of the geometric designs in his polished bronze mirror, smiling when Nie Mingjue ducks down enough to meet his gaze in the reflection.

“I liked what you did for Wangji’s wedding in Gusu,” he decides, “though I don’t have the same ornaments with me here.”

“I’ll work with whatever you have, it’s not like you’re wanting for jewels,” Nie Mingjue shrugs. He stands straight again to section off Jin Guangyao’s thick hair and begin braiding with deft skill, a simple but flattering pattern that’ll keep his hair out of his face and off his neck as well as provide a decent anchor for his heaviest guan, once they’re all plaited together and wound around the rest of his hair on top of his head. Nie Mingjue takes care to weave in some of the various gold chains and ornaments that Jin Guangyao has acquired over the years as he goes; he doesn’t wear them all the time like his brothers tend to, but this is of course the perfect occasion to go a little overboard.

They work in companionable silence for a few minutes, Jin Guangyao letting his eyes slip shut to take a moment to rest and let Nie Mingjue take care of him. He still struggles with too much silence, though, so when Nie Mingjue finishes one braid and begins the next he cracks one eye open to look at him in the mirror again, though with Nie Mingjue standing straight again he can only see up to his throat.

“Did you meet with Wei Wuxian this morning?”

Nie Mingjue grunts in the affirmative and Jin Guangyao raises one brow, waiting pointedly for his partner to elaborate.

He doesn’t have to wait long before Nie Mingjue clears his throat and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “He’s happy with where I’m at, considering how much hunting I’ve had to do with that yao infestation at the border last month. I’ll just take it easy for a while to let the extra resentment clear out of Baxia and my meridians, then I’ll keep going from there with his latest cleansing regimen. It’s been working well enough to hold us over when I can’t see you or A-Huan.”

Jin Guangyao can’t help but smile, nothing more than a pleased softening at the corners of his mouth. “Chifeng-Zun agreeing to take it easy?” he teases. “What trick has Wei Wuxian discovered that er-ge and I have yet to stumble upon? Please forgive this humble one for failing in his marital duties-”

Nie Mingjue cuts him off with an irritated click of his teeth and a painless tug on the braid he’s weaving. “Shut up, you know I only agree when he suggests it because of you and A-Huan. Where is A-Huan, by the way?”

“Last I saw he and Wangji were practising their composition for the celebration. He should be here soon.”

“I’m here now,” Lan Xichen says from the door, sliding it shut behind himself with a gentle clack. “Am I needed?”

“Always,” Nie Mingjue replies a little distractedly; he’s currently attempting to thread a gold bead smaller than one of his fingernails onto the braid he’s working on, so Jin Guangyao thinks it’s fair. Jin Guangyao holds one hand out towards the door without moving his head, and his smile widens when Lan Xichen crosses the room in just a few strides to take his outstretched hand in both of his to bring it to his lips for a quick kiss to his fingertips.

“Everything looks lovely as ever, A-Yao. Jiang Yanli wished for me to tell you she requests your presence once you’re dressed. I believe she wants to talk to you before the guests start arriving.”

“Ah, of course.”

“A-Yao, pass me something to tie this all off with. I’m guessing you want your wedding guan?”

Jin Guangyao’s cheeks are starting to ache but he can’t bring himself to stop smiling. He passes Nie Mingjue a length of white silk that isn’t a Lan forehead ribbon (but it’s not not a Lan ribbon) while Lan Xichen picks up the guan in question and the pins that go with it.

With his hair finished and his robes lying perfectly, as judged by Lan Xichen’s discerning eye, Jin Guangyao spares enough time to kiss his partners and appreciate them in all their finery before he sweeps from their quarters again to find Jiang Yanli. She’s sitting where she has been all morning, surrounded on all sides by peonies and cushions and silk hangings to keep the sun from creeping into the gazebo nestled in the middle of the east garden. It’s a private space without keeping her hidden, and as Jin Guangyao steps off the main path to cross to her he nods at Luo Qingyang marching past him in the opposite direction.

“Lianfang-Zun,” she salutes, casual and friendly. She’s a good vice general, a sensible and skilled leader who’s quick to discipline anyone she feels needs a lesson. Between the two of them they manage things in Jinlintai quite well, he thinks; it’ll likely always be a viper’s nest, there are far too many power-hungry uncles and aunts and cousins for it not to be, but between their prowess on the battlefield and in the political arena, and Jin Zixuan’s refusal to entertain his more… eccentric relatives any more than strictly necessary, there’s a better buffer there than there has been in years.

“A-Yao, your timing is perfect as always,” Jiang Yanli calls with a smile, soft and warm.

“Sao-zi,” he greets, ducking through the gauzy hangings to settle on the bench beside her, mindful not to crush the delicate silk of her lilac overgown. “I trust your brothers have already paid their visit?”

“Naturally, and muqin as well. You may therefore expect peace and quiet,” she laughs, the infant in her arms cooing in the next moment as if on cue. Their next moves are just as smoothly choreographed as the servants setting the banquet hall, or the kitchens preparing the feast; Jin Guangyao holds his arms out and Jiang Yanli gently slides the bundle of warm silk and tiny baby into his arms. It isn’t the first time he’s held his new niece, of course, but the joy of it hits him just as hard as the first time, and he smiles down at her so widely his cheeks start aching again.

“Hello,” he murmurs as she blinks enormous, dark eyes up at him, tiny lips parted and one hand escaping her swaddling to reach for his ear to tug on in lieu of his hair, all gathered up safely out of her reach.

“A-Xuan tells me you’re going to take some time off after this,” Jiang Yanli says after a few minutes of resting her eyes while she doesn’t have to worry about holding her daughter.

“Yes, I have been dragooned into service in Cloud Recesses,” he tells little A-Lu, currently gumming at her fingers with single-minded effort in lieu of finding tempting locks of hair to pull. “They are using the rebuilding of the training grounds as an excuse to redesign them for their increasing discipleship, and it is time to fully catalogue the repaired contents of the library. Mingjue and I are offering our expertise while Lan-xiansheng will be occupied with the summer lectures.”

Jiang Yanli hums softly and settles more firmly into her pile of cushions. With some amusement, she asks, “And naturally an extended period of time with Zewu-Jun is completely secondary to your purely philanthropic offer?”

Jin Guangyao finally looks up from his niece to offer her his widest, most insincere smile and a bland, “As sao-zi says,” for the delight of startling her into sparkling laughter, loud enough to echo back off the pavilion across the garden. A-Lu shrieks and waves her spit-shiny fist in the air, so Jin Guangyao catches her tiny fingers to let her wrap them in a death-grip around his index finger.

“I trust that Chengmei and Yu-didi won’t be allowed to commit too much mischief in my absence,” he notes as he watches Jin Zixuan enter the garden, spot them, wave only-slightly-awkwardly, and then stop a polite distance away; it must not be urgent, then.

“I don’t believe that’s something anyone can guarantee without your clever distractions to occupy them, but if they cause too much of a fuss I’ll send for A-Xian to come rein them back in,” she replies, unconcerned. It’ll have to do, and he’ll only be gone for a few weeks anyway. While history has taught that Xue Yang is anything but predictable, of course, he is at least less volatile these days now that he’s allowed to swing a sword covered in experimental talismans at a practice dummy as much as he wants, with Mo Xuanyu always happy to stick a nose in and reel off a list of questions if it means escaping his more traditional studies. It’s a work in progress, as so many things still are, but that’s not always a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan turns to look over his shoulder and then steps aside, and something in the vicinity of Jin Guangyao’s heart melts as he sees his partners coming up the path, walking sedately shoulder-to-shoulder, heads bent together to chat. It must be time to begin greeting guests, they wouldn’t come to fetch him otherwise, but he doesn’t move for another few moments in favour of watching them pause to talk to Jin Zixuan.

“Married life suits you, A-Yao,” Jiang Yanli muses; she’s one of the few people in the know — even had he not invited her to participate in their Lanling tea ceremony, Meng Shi’s memorial tablet cradled carefully in her hands while Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue poured for her, she’s too astute not to have noticed it the day Lan Xichen started wearing his hair in a full up-do, his neat bun stuck through with a gold zanzi in quiet violation of the Lan rule against excessive ornamentation. From there it would have only been a short leap to understand Nie Mingjue’s abrupt preference for a new configuration of braids and ornaments, painstakingly taught to both Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen by Nie Huaisang for their Qinghe ceremony. Though perhaps most telling of all are the white silk bands tied around his and Nie Mingjue’s wrists that are clear matches for the one around Lan Xichen’s forehead, tied on in a final ceremony in Gusu with Lan Qiren, Lan Wangji, and Wei Wuxian for witnesses. They’re as married as they can be, at least, and Jin Guangyao privately agrees with his sister-in-law — it suits him very well.

“Thank you, sao-zi. I believe my husbands have come to fetch me to return to my hosting duties, though. Will I pass xiao-Lu to Zixuan?”

Jiang Yanli smiles and shakes her head, holding her arms out for her daughter again. “I’m feeling quite well, I’ll keep holding her. We’ll be inside shortly to help you.”

Jin Guangyao passes the infant to Jiang Yanli and stands, shaking out his skirts and making sure he doesn’t get caught on anything on his way out of the little bower to cross the gardens again to meet his partners and his brother on the path.

“A-Yao,” Jin Zixuan greets with a nod. “I was just saying you’ve certainly earned your time away, you’ve outdone yourself. Truly.”

“You’re welcome, xiongzhang,” he replies with a little bow.

“I’m going to check on A-Li, I’ll see you all inside.” Jin Zixuan bows again, a little deeper, and beats a hasty retreat; his desire to know as little as possible about their relationship hasn’t changed one bit since they’d first discussed it, and Jin Guangyao can’t help but find it funny (Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue had poured him tea, as the closest thing to a family authority figure Jin Guangyao has. Jin Zixuan has personally married them and he still escapes their combined company whenever possible. It’s ridiculous). Jin Guangyao tamps down a wave of bemused affection in favour of looking up at his partners.

“Time to go?”

“Nearly. Wen-daifu just arrived, we thought you might like to say hello before the more official greetings begin. She’s in your receiving room.”

“She’s having tea with Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue adds and starts to usher them back down the path towards the more public areas with his hands pressed lightly to the smalls of their backs, “so I can only assume she’ll be looking for a rescue sooner rather than later.”

“Perhaps we can tell her that we want a second opinion on Wei Wuxian’s latest diagnosis,” Jin Guangyao muses. Not that he doesn’t trust Wei Wuxian’s assessment of Nie Mingjue’s progress, but well. It’s usually more fun to act like he doesn’t for the sake of winding up Wei Wuxian.

“...-ust saying, Qing-jiejie, I really think you’re onto something!” Jin Guangyao stops both his partners with a hand on their chests, Nie Mingjue’s fingertips freezing an inch away from the door to the receiving room in question. Lan Xichen raises an eyebrow at him but Jin Guangyao just shushes him with a finger to his lips and leans in closer, openly eavesdropping. Normally he wouldn’t bother, but even muffled through the door, Nie Huaisang is very clearly using his ‘I’m being a little shithead’ voice and Jin Guangyao is curious, there’s nothing wrong with that.

“I mean it! Da-ge is doing soooo much better, you really ought to publish your findings so others can try it!”

“Nie-gongzi we have seen nothing that proves Nie-zongzhu’s incredible progress isn’t simply a lucky break and I have disciples to train. I do not have the time to publish a manual on dual cultivation.”

“If you need more evidence we can work on that first! Listen, I’ve been experiencing some… rages-” Jin Guangyao has to clap a hand over his mouth to stop from snorting as Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen cover their eyes in unison, silently lamenting the clear suggestiveness in Nie Huaisang’s voice as he continues, “-you know, such awful imbalances in my qi, so if you happen to know any big strong cultivators looking for someone to rai-”

“I am not a matchmaker, Nie Huaisang!”

Jin Guangyao turns around and doubles over, biting the heel of his palm to try not to laugh and blow their cover. It’s pointless anyway — Nie Mingjue shoves the door open with a slam that rattles the wood in its frame and Nie Huaisang yelps a terrified, “Da-ge!!” nearly hidden under Nie Mingjue’s, “Come here you little shit!!”

“Wen-daifu,” Lan Xichen greets much more calmly, very much as if Nie Mingjue hasn’t wrestled Nie Huaisang to the floor to sit on him in punishment. Jin Guangyao disguises his laughter as a few coughs that convince nobody, he assumes, and steps into the room last to find Wen Qing trying hard to scowl around a reluctant smile twitching at the corners of her lips.

“Zewu-Jun, Lianfang-Zun. I trust I’m saved from Nie-gongzi’s hospitality?”

(“Get off me da-ge, it was a valid question!!!”

“I’m going to run you through so many drills you miserable little- don’t bite me!”)

“We were hoping you might be willing to check da-ge’s qi for us,” Jin Guangyao says and steps aside to gesture towards the open door behind him. “Nie-gongzi was just leaving.”

Nie Huaisang leaves in a flurry of fluttering silk sleeves and a closed fan pointed ‘threateningly’ at Nie Mingjue over his shoulder on his way out, and thankfully it doesn’t take the rest of them long at all to get settled in again at the table. Jin Guangyao pours tea for them all and settles in to sip at his with Lan Xichen, both of them watching carefully as Wen Qing presses two fingertips to the pulse-point in Nie Mingjue’s bare wrist.

She lingers for a few long moments, nothing more intense in her expression than concentration. When she opens her eyes again she reaches for her tea and Nie Mingjue tugs his sleeve back down, perfectly relaxed.

“I’m assuming Wei Wuxian already told you you’ve technically overextended recently?”

Nie Mingjue nods, but doesn’t look at all apologetic. Jin Guangyao wouldn’t expect him to, of course. “There was a nest of yao by the border with Qishan, had to be done. I’ll do some extra meditating in Gusu.”

Wen Qing raises an eyebrow but saves them all from some cutting remark about what else they’ll likely be doing plenty of in the privacy of the Hanshi.

“Extra check-ups then as well with myself or A-Ning, since you’ll be close by anyway. Wei Wuxian’s work with the saber spirits is helping almost as much as your triple cultivating; maybe he can solve the last few issues with it while you’re around.”

Nie Mingjue shrugs, but he can’t hide the relief softening the corners of his eyes or the hard edges of his perpetual frown.

“No better place to try than Cloud Recesses, I guess.”

“Wen-daifu,” Lan Xichen clears his throat delicately, “will you truly never publish your work with dual cultivation?”

Wen Qing sighs and looks at them all in turn before shaking her head, though it looks more like defeat than denial.

“Maybe one day I’ll be able to figure out what it is about your qi that makes this work so well, but you three are truly one-of-a-kind as far as I’m aware. I’ll consider it for a time when I have fewer things to do, and if you would like to write your own accounts of course that’s your business, though I would ask that I be consulted on any part where my research is referenced. But as for me… no, I’m not currently interested in writing a sex manual for cultivators, medical or otherwise.”

Nie Mingjue snorts tea out of his nose; Jin Guangyao passes him a handkerchief without a word. They’re saved from replying by a faint tapping at the door, and Jin Guangyao stands to open it to find Lan Wangji on the other side, looking down at him as coolly as ever.

“Laoling Qin and Baling Ouyang have arrived.”

“Ah.”

“We’ll join you shortly, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen promises with his ever-present gentle smile. Jin Guangyao nods to his partners and Wen Qing and leaves them behind, falling into step next to Lan Wangji as they approach the Fragrance Hall and, beyond it, the main staircase.

“I have your word that Wei Wuxian absolutely will not ruin this Hundred Day Celebration?” Jin Guangyao asks, but it’s hardly a question. Lan Wangji’s irritation feels like it should have some sort of barometric effect, a cooling of the atmosphere around him (actually that might be quite nice, hot as it is this time of year).

“Mn.”

“No plots, no dramatic or miraculous reveals, no political upheavals?”

“We will be retiring early.”

That’s hardly an answer but Jin Guangyao isn’t afraid to make Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s life a hell of petty revenge during his time in Cloud Recesses should they give him any reason at all; it’s always good for him to have a project, and archiving dry academic texts for the Lan can only hold his attention for so long.

Either way, they say nothing else as they wind their way through the few servants finishing up their final preparations and emerge into the sunshine again at the top of the stairs where, as promised, Laoling Qin is just arriving. Jin Guangyao settles into his usual spot to greet them, Lan Wangji standing just behind his shoulder as a frigid deterrent for anyone who might attempt to disrespect him in his own home.

It isn’t perfect of course — he’s long since had to accept that nothing is. But as he bows and greets and makes small talk with each sect that arrives; as he listens to his nephew’s happy shrieks from the garden nearby where he’s chasing little Wen Yuan in rambunctious circles right through the peonies; as Lan Wangji’s stony presence is replaced with Nie Mingjue’s sturdy one, and then Lan Xichen’s gentle warmth; as he heads inside to take his place at Jin Zixuan’s right hand for the celebration of his and Jiang Yanli’s second child, Jin Guangyao thinks — he hopes — that Meng Shi knows what he’s accomplished in this life, and finds it in her heart to be proud of the family he’s worked so hard to make.

|END|

#the untamed fanfic #3zun #The Waves are Rising and Rising #Jin Guangyao #Nie Mingjue #Lan Xichen

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