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elentari-celestaire · 1 year

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✧ crimson-stained padisarah ✧

pairing - al-haitham x f!reader

content notes - hanahaki, childhood friends to lovers???, angst, but, happy ending?, slight mention of death, mutual pining, terrible punctuations and all cause i did this sleep-deprived.

a/n - good luck to everyone pulling for al-haitham~ also, i will add some short brainrots for this piece when i have the time

“Haitham,” a female voice from across the room called out to the acting grand sage, who merely responded with a soft hum.

If it had been anyone else who had dared to interrupt al-Haitham’s personal reading time, he would have just ignore them but, the person who had just called him knew that she wouldn’t be ignored.

“What are we?”

Silence filled the air as y/n observed the grey-haired male, anticipating his next actions.

“Ha-”

“Close friends, who have known each other since we were children.”

y/n’s gaze softened at the gentle tone with which he answered her with, something that she knew not everyone had the luxury of experiencing. Yet, at the same time, something inside her ached when she felt something bloomed. Ignoring the growing ache, she put up a fake smile, “Well, aren’t I lucky? To be considered the acting grand sage’s close friend.”

At the sound of a book being closed, y/n silently congratulated herself, knowing she had finally grabbed her childhood friend’s full attention.

Piercing turquoise eyes met hers, studying her features and body language.

“Y/n, where is this coming from?”

She broke the eye contact, choosing to divert her attention to a stack of books on a table next to her. “It’s nothing,” she stated. her fingers tracing the pattern of a flower on the book cover. A floral-themed novel. “I was just reminiscing about us. We have grown and changed so much. Little al-haitham all grown up."

“y/n.” her name was spoken in a warning tone, yet she knew there was no threat to it.

“I’m leaving for Liyue tomorrow,” the female announced abruptly, surprising both herself and al-haitham.

“What?” there was a frown on his face as he stood up from where he was reading previously. With each step he took towards where she was standing, he demanded explanation to her sudden statement, “Why are you going to Liyue? Y/n. Why am i only learning about this now?”

“There’s a doctor in Liyue, who seem to know about the hanahaki disease,” y/n explained, her voice soft, her gaze never leaving the books littered across the table — each book pertaining to the topic of flowers. “I’ll be going there with the girl to see what I can learn about it.”

The female inhaled sharply when muscular arms caged her to the desk, leaving no way for her to escape.

“Why are you going to such lengths for that girl?” he questioned as a slender finger lifted her chin to look at him — her eyes appeared tired, and she had eyebags, he noted. “It’s merely just a rumour. There was no documentation or information about that illness. It’s all in her head.”

Despite her breathing becoming more rapid, she continued, “you know very well the condition of the brains affect the well being of a person even if society assumes the illness stems from psychological factors and isn’t cause by any physical factors.”

“This is why i did not want to tell you.” her e/c hues narrowed as she muttered, and she turned her head away from him, catching al-haitham off guard.

“And, no. It’s not simply a rumour. It does exist,” she exhaled sharply, her chest heaving as she struggled to push back the cough that threatened to arise. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

The word ‘seen’ was truly an understatement. Seeming as she herself was a victim to hanahaki since a few weeks ago when she was unfortunate enough to witness al-haitham on a date with a certain dancer from Zubayr theater.

When she remembered the sight she had encountered, she had to fight back the petals she felt creeping up her throat.

“Are you done?” the casual tone in his question only made things worse for her.

Tears welled up in her eyes, she was starting to lose energy from resisting the florals in the back of her throat.

“Yes…” she breathed out as she pushed past the arms encircling her. Y/n fled from the room, but not before a cough escaped her — leaving a crimson-stained purple petal and a surprised al-haitham.

Tears that she had been fighting back fell at the sight of those blood-soaked blooming padisarahs that she had just coughed out in the sink. The uncontrollable coughing fit in addition to the sobs she was eliciting was torturous. It was excruciatingly painful, both physically and mentally.

“Y/n, what—”

Panicked eyes shot up towards the mirror, which reflected the look of terror in al-haitham’s face, the petal she had abandoned in the room slipping from his fingers.

The evidence lying around the female staring back at him was enough to answer his unsaid questions — the blood at the corner of her mouth, more blood around the sink and the bloodied full-bloom padisarahs.

It was then the realization hits him; how she appeared more exhausted recently, how at times her voice cracked or how her smiles felt forced and at times, felt sorrowful. The books she had been reading. It all made sense now.

“Y/n, you have hanahaki…?”

Wiping the blood away from the corner of her mouth, she averted her eyes from his and scoffed, ”so what? it’s just all in my he-” she was cut off as a coughing episode worse than the previous started.

Turquoise orbs widened as more blood, flowers and tears poured into the sink, some escaping and falling onto the floor.

“Who…?” he murmured.

“Do u even - have u even lo- like anyone before?” her hands gripped the sink — her knuckles turning pale white as she gasped for air, “Do you even know what it feels like to see the one you love with someone else? wishing that it was you their smiles are directed at?”

“y/n…please tell me. who is it?!” al-haitham pleaded, his heart aching at the scene that was unfolding in front of him. Perhaps bringing her to the one she has feelings for will save her, even if something inside him ached at that thought.

The female shook her head as another bloom fell from her lips along with her words, “it hurts so much. my throat. my lungs. my heart. and yet, I can’t bring myself to go through the surgery.”

“i cant bring myself to give up. all the memories. my feelings,” y/n whispered, her voice barely audible and her vision starting to darkened.

“i can’t bear the thought of forgetting you.” she breathed out before her grip on the basin loosened and her body went limp.

Despite being in shock at the sudden confession, al-haitham managed to catch her before she hit the ground.

The gray-haired male remained on the ground, holding y/n’s body in his arms. Even after confirming that she was still breathing and had stabilized for the moment, his heart was still racing as he tried to process all that had occurred.

The revelation that she was willing to die to the hanahaki disease than lose her memories and feelings for him broke him, a pained expression forming on his features as he recalled the pain she was in minutes earlier.

After brushing away a strand of her hair from her face, he carried the female's unconscious body in his arms and exited the bloodied scene.

E/c eyes opened, albeit tiredly as she felt herself being lifted and moved.

“im sorry. to get blood on you...” y/n whispered, her voice hoarse as she gazed at him with tired eyes.

“don’t speak. you’ll only hurt your throat. rest. please…”

Leaning against his chest, y/n once again closed her eyes. She could feel the rhythm of al-haitham's unsteady heartbeat. It was rare to see his usual calm demeanour crack, even as someone who had known him the longest.

Was she perhaps special to him that he was willing to show this vulnerable side to? Or, was she just being hopeful?

“To answer your question, yes.” he whispered.

“Wh-what?!” Y/n’s eyes shot wide open, but she started having another coughing episode from the outburst. After she calmed down, she could only stare at the gray-haired male as he continued while still looking ahead.

If it’s one thing y/n hated about al-haitham, it was his ability to mask his emotions perfectly. Even having known him since young, it was always difficult to know what was on his mind.

“I know how it feels to possess this feeling you call love. i would say I know this feeling quite well, if I have to be honest with you.”

He stopped in his tracks when he saw the frown on her face.

“please, let me finish what i have to say before jumping to conclusions,” he said, taking a long breath before continuing, his voice slightly breaking, “I hate this side of you so much. how much of yourself have you destroyed because of your tendency to jump to conclusions? “

“i won’t say i have ever felt the pain of seeing the person i love being with someone else but, i do know the pain of seeing the person i’m in love with being in pain yet, being unable to do anything. i swore to protect you and yet, i couldn’t even see that all this time, you have been hurting so much on your own.”

Y/n's frown was replaced with that of surprise at that admission. Her vision became blurry as tears pooled at the corner of her eyes.

Something in her felt lighter.

“i…i was afraid. That i would ruin our friendship…that you would start avoiding me…i couldnt bear the thought of never seeing you again. so, i thought it would be fine if i stayed by you as a close friend.”

Upon entering his room, al-haitham laid her down on the bed and held her hand in his. With a sigh, he rested his forehead on their linked hands, his hand trembling slightly.

He took a brief pause before releasing a shaky breath.

“how naive am i. because of my cowardice, i had almost…lost you in the worst way possible.”

“i truly apologise yn. had i not been so blind…” his voice broke as his grip on her hands tightened.

The feeling of dampness on her hand caused a new wave of tears to fall from her eyes.

“if i had left you alone then. if i had not chased after you. i could have lost you forever. and our last conversation would be of us arguing.”

y/n shook her head frantically, “no.nonono!! please, haitham!! it's not your fault!” she cried out as she tackle hugged him, catching him off guard. His arms instinctively wrapped around her waist to keep them from falling onto the ground.

“i was afraid as well! you’re so perfect. so intelligent and capable. have you seen yourself when you fight? the way you wield those swords? how could i ever compare to you? surely there’s no way you would like me romantically. and then, i saw you and nilou. you guys just looked so go-”

a slender finger was placed on her lips, stopping her mid-sentence.

“As much as i enjoy listening to you fawning over me. I have to stop you there. how did nilou even get into this equation?”

“Didn’t you went out on a date with her at the bazaar? You were smiling back then as well…?”

“That…” al-haitham’s hesitation made y/n fixed her gaze on him, a frown once again making their way on to her features.

With a soft flick to her forehead, he scolded, “stop that.” al-haitham contemplated for a moment before sighing in defeat, “ok. fine. i was just asking her for advice.”

Y/n was just staring at him in disbelief. “You?? Asking for advice???”

“i was contemplating if i would be satisfied just remaining as close friends. and, she happened to be there. she asked me some questions and it gave me the answer i needed. that’s all. there’s nothing between us. i assure you.”

“what did she ask? wait…do i even want to kn-”

when he recalled the question nilou had asked him, al-haitham’s expression was that of annoyance, “she asked how would i feel if you fell in love with someone else and started a family with them.”

“and?”

“i said no.” he stated, crossing his arms as if it was an obvious answer.

“what?! but, we’re not even-” came y/n’s baffled reply.

“no. i would not allow that to happen.”

“this is new.”

“what is?”

“this side of you.”

“it’s not,” his lips curled into a slight smile as his turquoise hues softening when they landed on hers, ”it has always been there when it comes to you.”

“???”

some brainrots (or some extra conversation of this fic)

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin al haitham #fanfic #genshin #hanahaki #angst #reader insert #al haitham x reader #al haitham x y/n #al haitham x you

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juyeoniemyhoney · 2 years

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dreaming of you

A dream is a wish your heart makes when you're fast asleep. And apparently you subconsciously want to kiss Wonwoo.

pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader

genre: fluff, sort of strangers to lovers but more like acquaintances to lovers, college au, basically no plot.... just Wonwoo brainrot......

warnings: kissing, making out, wonwoo brainrot with ZERO plot, mentions of sexual assault, y/n is handsy af

word count: 3453 words

A/N: okay.... i know it's been like ten million years but a lot has happened in my life and school has just been an absolute ass and i know this isn't rent a boyfie but i dreamt the exact dream that y/n dreamt in this story and was down so bad for wonwoo after the dream so i had to write it all down so here it is!! hope you guys enjoy it and thank you always for your support for what i do<3

Perhaps it is because it is something you've wanted all your life, or maybe it is because you are so painfully without it that your unconscious brain begins to want it, or maybe it is a foreshadowing of what is to happen in your life. But you— of all the people you know— dream of Jeon Wonwoo.

You barely even know him, have barely even said a sentence to him since the first time you met him six months ago. He is quiet and distant and a little spacey. And you are exactly like him. Hence why neither of you have really said anything to each other. The only time you said anything to him was when you dropped your phone in front of him at the freshman's orientation and he muttered the softest 'yikes' before hastily turning his head when he'd realised you heard him.

Which could possibly be a reason as to why you dream of him in the first place. Secretly, you have been wanting to talk to Wonwoo for some time now. You've observed him for a while and have deduced that you and Wonwoo would be good friends. He likes to read, seeing as how he always whips out a book at every moment he can. He seems to like music, an earphone always plugged into one of his ears when you see him walking down the hallway, or when you see him sitting at that secluded bench that he seems to like so much. Most of all, Wonwoo seems like the nicest guy ever. He's quiet and soft-spoken but you've seen him with his friends, who are significantly louder and rowdier than him, and he always seems to be looking at them with unadulterated affection. Plus, he's friends with Mingyu so you already know he's not a bad person.

Which gives you four reasons as to why you would like to get to know Wonwoo.

The only reason why you haven't approached Wonwoo is because that man is godly. Wonwoo is so attractive, every time you muster up some form of courage to approach him, you lose all your wits about you, tongue tying, thoughts leaving your mind like steam leaves boiling water, abandoning mission before you can even take more than five steps in his direction. It's unfathomable how much of an impact Wonwoo's sparkly almond-shaped eyes have on you, how much of an impact his gentle gaze has on you, how much of an impact his mere presence has on you. Pretty people scare you and because Wonwoo has surpassed the worldly level of pretty, you have yet to talk to him.

And the dream only makes it worse because of what the two of you did.

It's not like you even did anything sexual at all. All you did really was hug and kiss Wonwoo. And yet, you had awoken with a start, lips tingling, breaths heavy, like it had been real, flushing such a deep crimson it took more than five minutes for your cheeks and neck to return to normal. The worst part is that it's been weeks since you've had that dream and you haven't been able to stop thinking about it for forever. It's like it's been engraved into your brain with a knife or a needle and your thoughts decide to replay the vivid dream every so often at random moments in the day.

And it's not like you haven't kissed anyone or hugged someone of the opposite gender in your life. You don't even know what it is! It's just a hug and a kiss.... But, you suppose, it is with Wonwoo. And maybe, that is what it is. Because it'd felt real, the warmth of his chest against your cheek, his bottom lip between yours, his nose rubbing against your own, his lithe fingers against the nape of your neck, warm palms burning holes into the skin of your cheek and waist. And then, when you'd pulled away, Wonwoo had given you a sweet smile before leaning back in to kiss you again.

So, yes. You have developed a little bit of a crush on Wonwoo because of a dream you had. Sounds superficial and stupid and utterly unbelievable if you were to tell anyone about it. Which is why you do exactly that— tell not a single soul. You thought it would be easy, but you somehow forget that you cannot keep anything to yourself for the life of you. So, you tell Mingyu.

You met your friend from secondary school on campus yesterday, spilling your guts to him about how you kind of have a thing for Wonwoo because of a damn dream you had where the two of you kissed and hugged. And you swear to the lord jesus christ, you sounded like a damn child who hasn't kissed anyone, and Mingyu was definitely trying his hardest to hold his laughter in while you confided in him by telling him about your hardest struggle at the moment.

Mingyu, ever the shitty friend, simply told you to tell Wonwoo. And you swear you almost disowned him as a friend right there and then. When Wonwoo approaches you after class the next day, your immediate thought is that you should have.

It’s a normal day, or at least, as normal as it has been since you’d had that dream. Your lecture goes on for hours and you try your best to listen as always and fail, as always. Nothing seems amiss, everything seems to be in order. And for a second, you sigh in relief. Now that you had confided in Mingyu, you feel worlds lighter, especially because he laughed in your face which made you realise that you freaking out over this dream was something dumb and stupid.

It feels like you’re finally winning. The past few weeks have been horrible and drab and boring. But today, you feel like your life is finally getting a little bit better. All you have to do is get past this lecture and you have the rest of the day to yourself where you can finally finish that book and drink a hot cup of tea and eat junk food and just relax.

“Y/N!” someone calls after you as you step out of the lecture hall. You sigh and stop in your tracks, mood spoiled tremendously as you grumble under your breath and turn around to face whoever this idiotic classmate of yours is.

It takes you a second to realise that it’s Wonwoo who’s calling out to you, stuck behind multiple students as he tries his best to push past them up the stairs to catch up to you. He grunts as he jumps over the rows of cadet seating in the lecture theatre, ignoring the displeased grumbles and disapproving glances of your classmates as he jumps from row to row, long legs coming in handy before he finally jumps down from the tables and lands right in front of you.

“Wonwoo?” you question, moving out of the way of students and gently holding Wonwoo’s elbow to steer him away from the crowd with you. The two of you get pushed around and shoved by the bustle of students trying to get out of the hall and when the two of you do finally get out of that godforsaken hall, Wonwoo’s hands are on your shoulders, guiding you about the crowd as your feet stumble to try and follow Wonwoo’s directions.

“Let’s go and talk somewhere else,” he says quietly, and it doesn’t even register in your head before you are meekly nodding and walking forward with a gentle push from Wonwoo.

The realisation hits you only as the two of you seem to be shoving your way towards Wonwoo’s bench. It is only then that you realise that Wonwoo’s warm palms are against the curve of your shoulders, the warmth of his chest hot against your back, his breath tickling the shell of your ear as he guides you gently through the crowd. You break out into a furious blush, as instant as someone with a severe peanut allergy breaking out into a rash after eating peanuts, the flush so red and deep it runs up to the tips of your ears and down your neck to your sternum, so rampant and furious it prickles your scalp and makes the tips of your fingers tingle. Wonwoo’s hands feel just like they had felt in your dream, and you remember the way he breathed, imagining the breaths caressing your ear were instead, against the plush of your lips, hot and quick, like even his lungs cannot bear to hold back its excitement.

From there, you begin to shut down, almost like the hot blush is melting your brain and you have the urge to dunk your face in ice cold water to soothe the swell. Nothing even registers anymore, you just follow Wonwoo as he pushes you along the corridors, making turns like he’s driving a car and you are the steering wheel. Even when the two of you get to his favourite bench, you do not even sit down. Wonwoo has to turn you around to face him and gently press down on your shoulders to get you to sit down. You have never wanted to die more.

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asks as he takes his seat next to you on the bench. No, you are not okay. But Wonwoo doesn’t need to know that.

“Yes,” you say robotically. In your head, you are beating yourself up for being the most awkward person to have ever walked the earth. Your love-addled brain urges you to tell him about the dream, your conscious screeches and refuses. You, in between the fight between your conscious and your subconscious, sit dazed and confused, utterly unable to say a word as the two battle it out.

Somehow, in your stupor, you manage to question a few things. The first question you ask is: why on earth does Wonwoo want to talk to you? He hasn’t talked to you before, not really at least. And it’s not like he’s ever really made the effort to talk to you the past six months. Your suspicions begin to rise. Mingyu definitely said something to him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Wonwoo asks again, trying to find your gaze. You don’t meet his gaze, afraid of him seeing the heat of your cheeks but Wonwoo, the type of person to be concerned for people he has never met before, persists, the back of his hand coming up to your forehead in an attempt to feel for your temperature.

“Maybe we should get you in a cooler place,” Wonwoo suggests when he feels the heat of your forehead. He thinks it’s a fever, but you know it is just the raging blush that refuses to subside. How does Wonwoo have this effect on you?

“I’m okay, Wonwoo, really,” you insist, hand instinctively coming up to hold his forearm to prevent him from getting up. You swear, the sheer amount of times you have been touching him is unacceptable. Wonwoo should be uncomfortable or should be shrugging you off or should be screaming for help because at this point, this is borderline sexual assault. Also, if Wonwoo touches you one more time, you swear you are going to jump him and reenact that godforsaken dream.

“Are you su—?”

“Did Mingyu tell you something?” you mumble out in a speed akin to a rapper. Wonwoo only can look at you quizzically before the realisation brightens his eyes. You take a quick glance at him while he is staring off in thought but whip your gaze back to your shoes when he turns back to you.

“He told me about a dream,” Wonwoo reveals with a lilt in his voice, sounding almost amused. You chance a glance at Wonwoo, embarrassed but too curious to not know what his facial expression is like. Wonwoo seems to be smiling, bemused or happy or awkward, you don’t know.

You don’t know what it is, you suppose it is the realisation that you can’t run away from Wonwoo anymore, but your mind clears. Or maybe it is the pure white rage that you feel towards Mingyu. Seriously, he is a dead man when you manage to run away from Wonwoo. But you think he knows you better than you thought, sitting as though he is ready to get up and run after you should you bolt. Or maybe Wonwoo wants to run away too, so horrified and put off by the prospect of your dream he wants to get as far away from you as possible.

“Did he tell you everything?” you ask with a wince, far too embarrassed to even glance up at Wonwoo anymore. The dream begins to replay in your mind. Every feeling and touch tingles at the respective appendages, your hands, waist, cheeks, neck, and lips, almost like he is touching you right in this moment. The reducing blush comes back like a storm, red flushing all the way down to the base of your neck.

Oh, but you would be lying if you haven’t been praying to every god ever known for him to just kiss you right here and now. You would give anything for Wonwoo to just cup your cheeks and slant his lips against yours and for the two of you to just kiss and hug and be in love on this bench under the warm sunlight of a petering out summer.

“He didn’t tell me everything at first,” Wonwoo says, before confessing, “I forced him to tell me everything after he let it slip that you dreamt a dream similar to mine.”

You don’t fully grasp it at first, but Wonwoo patiently and gently explains to you about how he came to know of your embarrassing dream of him.

It seems that only an hour after you spilled your guts to Mingyu, he and Wonwoo had met up to get dinner, where Wonwoo started to tell Mingyu about his own dream, which, according to Mingyu, was creepily identical to yours. And Mingyu, who is not only a traitor but also utterly misunderstood, thinks that you and Wonwoo are playing a prank on him.

“He thought we were playing a prank on him?” you let out in disbelief, so exasperated by Mingyu’s thought process you cannot bear to keep it in. Wonwoo lets out a hearty laugh and though your mind should be focussed on planning Mingyu’s demise, your heart inflates a little, his laugh so adorable even your body has to express it.

“Yeah!” Wonwoo exclaims in between his chuckles, “He said, and I quote ‘That’s exactly what Y/N said! What are you two planning?’”

Wonwoo attempts a Mingyu impersonation while relaying to you Mingyu’s words, facial expression animated and voice tweaked to sound and emote exactly like how Mingyu does.

“Woah, wait. That was a really good Mingyu impersonation. I thought you were him for a moment,” you joke in faux-seriousness, expression dropping to a poker face from a laugh to express how good of an impersonation Wonwoo just did. Wonwoo, while laughing, stands up to bow for his crowd of one, smiling and laughing and waving to an imaginary crowd like he’d just finished a performance.

“Thank you very much,” Wonwoo says as he begins to sit down, decidedly done with his act. “But yeah, after he said that I kinda forced him to tell me everything you said,” Wonwoo continues after his and your laughter died down.

“So is it identical like Mingyu said?” you ask, becoming increasingly curious yourself. A million questions begin to run through your head. So, did Wonwoo dream of us kissing too? And if he did, how did he feel? Did he like the idea of it? Was he absolutely appalled by the idea? Does he want to kiss me now? Because I don’t mind if he does.

Wonwoo remains silent for a while and the silence absolutely unnerves you. You glance up at him to gauge his facial expression, if he doesn’t want to talk about it and you’ve pried or if he doesn’t like the idea of it and is trying not to show it because Wonwoo is just the nicest man ever.

That thought makes you do a double take. Jeon Wonwoo is the nicest man to ever exist. How on earth could it be that someone like Jeon Wonwoo is without a girlfriend? Oh god. Wonwoo must have a girlfriend and you’ve made him uncomfortable and he feels like he’s cheated on his girlfriend because of that dream and now he doesn’t even want to be friends with you because it just reminds him of his subconscious infidelity.

What you don’t expect is for Wonwoo to be blushing. You do a double take, just to make sure your eyes are not projecting your ideal Wonwoo reaction and that he is actually blushing and not just red with anger or something else bad.

“Wonwoo?”

“Someone once told me,” Wonwoo starts, ignoring the sweet sound of your voice calling his name. “That if you dream about someone, it means they’re thinking about you.”

“I only realised it was real when I found out you dreamt about me.”

Wonwoo’s words come out half in stutters and half in mumbled, incoherent words that you would normally miss. It is an amazing thing, then, that you are hyper focused on him, utterly and completely taken by the adorable sight of Wonwoo’s red cheeks, with his hand lamely covering his face like if you were to look at him more, it would only deepen his blush.

With his words, you cannot help but grin so wide your face almost splits in half. Wonwoo thinks about you? Since when? And how often? You feel your heart soar, like Wonwoo’s words had flown into your chest cavity through your ears and sprouted wings at each side of your heart.

“Wonwoo, are you trying to say that you think about me?”

Your bashfulness is long forgotten in the presence of Wonwoo’s shyness. He’s too cute and too shy. You have to initiate something or you’ll regret and the two of you will go back to being awkward, not knowing whether to say hi when you chance upon each other in the corridors and the countless awkward moments you have approached him, only to not say a word and running away before Wonwoo can even notice you.

You open your mouth to say something but Wonwoo stands up abruptly, both hands on his face now as his lithe and long fingers cover his pink cheeks completely.

Before Wonwoo can manage to run away, you stop him with a hand on his forearm. Wonwoo is obedient and stops in his tracks but he refuses to turn around, so you circle him and stand in front of him.

“Now, Wonwoo, where are you going?” you ask slyly, hands coming up to pry his own from his blushing face.

“We still have to find out if our dreams were identical,” you continue, guiding Wonwoo’s hands to where they were in your dream, one on your waist and one at the nape of your neck. Your hands interlock behind Wonwoo’s neck and you pull yourself flush against him and you swear you hope you’re doing the right thing and not entirely violating every single boundary ever and you pray that Wonwoo wants this as much as you do because if he doesn’t, you’re surrendering yourself to the local police station for sexual assault.

But you don’t have a doubt in your mind when Wonwoo, cheeks and ears redder than red, leans in and slants his warm mouth against yours, thumb against your cheek, fingers sweeping the hair at the nape of your neck, warm breath caressing your cheek. You swear you malfunction for a while, hands and lips moving solely on instinct. But then Wonwoo trails his fingers up your spine, electricity runs up your back and to your heart and you feel it swell with so much love you swear you can propose to Wonwoo right in this moment.

When Wonwoo pulls away, mind finally found, you lean back in to recapture his lips and he almost gives in but a niggle at the back of his brain stops him short.

“Wait,” he says, stopping you from closing in just shy of his lips.

“So does this mean that you think about me too?”

You smile, press your lips against his and pull away, saying, “Oh Wonwoo, I more than think about you.”

A pause and Wonwoo frowns. Your smile only widens as your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I dream of you.”

#jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #seventeen #svt wonwoo #svt jeon wonwoo #wonu #wonwoo fic #wonwoo seventeen #wonwoo fanfic #jeon wonwoo fanfic #jeon wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo x reader #strangers to lovers #wonwoo strangers to lovers #fanfic #svt x reader #wonwoo fluff #dreaming of you💭💭

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honeyyjems · 2 years

Text

sfw + nsfw headcanons

content warning (s): mature language - mention of asphyxiation - spitting - biting - exhibitionism - overstimulation - oral sex (fem receiving) - daddy kink - hand kink - breeding - unprotected sex - corruption - slight slapping - hard dom! porco

pairing: porco galliard x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

a/n: i wanted to use this as a prep for my lifeguard! porco for @taixju summer collab (x) but that will be 100% dirtier and filthy. I have been having brainrot of him since he’s been animated *screech* i wanted to write more but you get the gist

banner credit: made it myself but porco fanart artist creds to @/KinNiku_OishiiZ on twitter

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✯ Porco isn't much for relationships and mostly plays around with others; however, all of his morals did a whole 360 once you stepped into his life.

✯ Very much a cocky, stuck-up man, and knows what exactly to make one fluster but doesn't know how to react when someone can actually deal with his bullshit.

✯ He is attracted to confident women who are assured of themselves, he does have a soft spot for shy girls because he knows just what to say to make them stutter.

✯ Porco is a hard worker and down bad for a hard-working woman because he knows if they want something, they will do anything to achieve that.

✯ Gives you cute pet names/classic ones like doll, darling, baby, bubs, love, honey, sweets, and amor.

✯ Porco comes from an Italian family, plain and simple. An Italian man with hints of his Italian accent.

✯ Although Porco has a mean facade towards everyone, he is a real sweetheart and kind human being, and that's what attracted you to him. He can be an angry and grumpy bean, he still cares and loves in his weird unique way, especially the ones he cares for deeply.

✯ He knows when something is wrong with you and wants to get down to what the problem is, he is always there for you and up for a vent if you need one.

✯ Porco knows you can overwork and pile much on your shoulders, so he does his part. If that may be acts of service or just being there, he always manages to always keep a smile on your face; it is what he loves most about you.

✯ Porco is your best friend in one and KNOWS you better than yourself; he is your equal and brings out the best in you.

✯ Porco bullied others for being romantic to their significant others but he really is a secret sweet tooth romantic and anything that is cheesy, already has it planned.

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✯ Definitely would be very cocky and stuck up around you because of his crush on you, thinking it would go in a good direction because he has no brains and doesn't think before he acts. He is much rather surprised to see you snap back at him with each comment or rather how you ignore him.

✯ Each passing day, he notices how he's always looking for you, waiting to see what you’ll say back or the annoying side looks you give him that he finds oh so cute.

✯ After finally getting the guts to ask you out, Porco would be the one to go out of his way to coordinate dates like visiting parks, cafes, museums, and different bookstores to check out on each date. He is a very big bookworm but you didn't know that until your third date. so we already know he will want to visit every possible local bookstore with you.

✯ He was the first to say “I love you”, and it did take some time for him. He wanted to be sure of himself because he knew you were, he was mesmerized at how beautiful you looked with the warm lights reflecting off of you, as you read together in his bedroom so caught up in the moment, he mumbled “I love you.” catching you a bit off guard but you always knew you loved him from the first stupid comment he made when you first met. Returning the mutual feeling made him push up his reading glasses to poorly hide his crimson shade cheeks.

✯ Book reading dates are something special because you and Porco both have a mutual love for books, no matter the genre or length they can be, that’s why he’s the best to have as a book buddy. He would ensure he had all the annotating supplies ready, even going as far as getting your favorite latte or drink before coming over.

✯ He loves to see your facial expressions while you read, the little giggles you let out make his heart flutter, pausing his reading; Porco really does love your smile. The way he feels all warm inside because he falls for you all over again as if he isn’t already.

✯ Porco was interested in these "spicy" books you talked about because you frequently get flustered which led you to get up and "take a lap", so he read along with you. He wants to get in on the action too

✯ Sometimes the dates can get steamy, blame the erotic books you buddy read together, but you nudge him on and leave him to always say, “why don't we recreate this scene ourselves rather than reading it?”; it was way better experiencing it than reading.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

✯ OVERLY handsy person, he will find any opportunity to have his hands on you; placing his hand into your back pocket, basically cupping your ass, hooking his finger onto your beltline, and wrapping his arms around your waist

✯ Hugs from him are just the best, although Porco is the size of fucking Mount Everest, the way his body fits perfectly into yours. Hugs from behind would be his signature move, he loves to hear you yelp in surprise and nudge your butt back into him while placing his chin on top of your head.

✯ Porco is the most loudly jealous person, but his actions would speak louder than words. If there are a group of guys eyeing you down, he places his arm around your waist and brings you in to trace his long finger over your lips, no kiss is needed. You know exactly what he was trying to do, make it loud and clear your his.

✯ As mentioned before, Porco loves having his hands on you, sometimes being a little too excessive but you love the feeling of his large calloused hands on the low of your back.

✯ Porco loves your hands, although you hate them, he loves the soft and warmness it gives him. Your hands are much smaller compared to his but he loves how delicate they look in his.

✯ He DEFINITELY buys you rings just to fidget with them when you hold hands

✯ Porco notices the small glances you give his large hands and fingers so he messages pictures of his veiny hands and arms post-workout; queue mutual hand kinks

✯ When you would be feeling down or not yourself, Porco knows just what to do to help make you feel better. If you didn't want to talk about it, he would just hold you close to him to let you know that he is there for you.

✯ Cuddling would be the best because he is like a giant human furnace, there is no blanket needed but sometimes you do need to push him away causing him to whine.

✯ Porco has been with many girls, there are no questions about that, but he very much is careful and worships you. He reassures your insecurities, as there is really nothing to be insecure about, and very much praises your whole body, all the imperfections you see are perfect to him. He has never felt this way about anyone and he holds that dear to him, there is nobody like the way you smile, smell, and soft finger trances you leave behind on his skin, which is what makes you special.

✯ He loves to trace his fingers over your stretch marks, connect the dots with the freckles on your body, and caress your tummy. Simply would love to have his head on your chest to hear the way your heart beats and soft breathing.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

✯ Porco was a very much well-known manwhore before meeting you, he knows how to please a woman and what makes them quiver under his touch.

✯ Porco’s cock is a little above average his ego is crumbling, quite beefy, and has a very good girth to it. He likes to keep it trimmed and not completely shaven but has a light happy trail.

✯ Although he may have a little above average dick, Porco knows how to give you a proper fuck, and have you creaming on his cock.

✯ Porco was a nervous bitch in the beginning with you. He wanted to make sure he was making you feel good, he gets more aroused when he knows he’s pleasuring you; however, he has never easily gotten a hard-on just from a simple makeout sesh nor had a woman that can keep up with him.

✯ Just having you make out on top of him while grinding against his cock would make him drip precum. The sounds of your pretty moans against his mouth, and the way you tug on his undercut literally will make him combust.

✯ Porco has never had a woman make him easily come undone but he swears you have something, also don't moan too hot or he’ll rip all your clothes off but he knows you love that oh so much.

✯ Porco is very much handsy during book reading dates and will have you sit in between his legs, fingering you, while you read your erotic book. Hearing your soft pants and heavy breathing as you try to concentrate. He loves watching you struggle so he bites on your ear lobe to make it even better for him.

✯ Porco has many kinks: degradation, praise kink, hair pulling, dirty talk, choking, asphyxiation, spitting, spanking, biting, exhibitionism, overstimulation, and pet names like sweet girl, pretty girl, baby. He loves it when he is in control and call him sir, or especially daddy.

✯ Porco never really had the thought of breeding or corruption until you. The way you sweet-talked the kids in your family or how you bit back at his snarky comments, giving a pressing hard-on in his pants that you could only relieve.

✯ Porco can be a soft dom when he wants to be a little soft and delicate with you; however, he is a very much hard dom. When fucking you, he holds your face making you passionately look into your eyes and feeling your hot moans in his mouth. He can be a little too invested in you and grab you by the neck slightly choking, but you give devilish smile, such a dirty slut for his cock you are.

✯ Always asks for consent no matter how long you’ve been together, he wants to make sure you feel comfortable and safe; you are what matters most, he could care less about himself. Your pleasure is important so you will always be put first.

✯ Going into what matters most, he will absolutely make sure you have all the orgasms first, ensuring what he’s doing is good and asking if you like it. He can tell you love it when he feels you squeeze around him. That's how he found out you loved letting him spit in your mouth.

✯ After finding your spit kink, he loves how dirty you were so he would grab your throat in any environment, always catching you by surprise and using it as an opportunity to spit in your mouth. He knows you're dripping wet by the time you get home or in the car. You did fuck like dogs in the car after he did that in front of Jean, he is very much territorial.

✯ He knows your body, everything, he quickly catches on to the things that make you moan and whimper. Definitely keeping a mental note to ensure his do’s and don’ts.

✯ What Porco lives for is you riding him. He loves the look on your fucked out face, eyes rolling back, telling him to go faster and deeper. He loves giving you light slaps across your face, as he tells you to beg for it. When picking up the pace, he will grab onto your neck and squeeze to make your face crimson red; only making you focus on his hard fast cock ramming into your cunt.

✯ Another thing Porco loves is to eat you out and his mouth does fucking god wonders. He loves the fact his tongue is making you whimper and moan and enjoys overstimulating you after you’ve cum all over his mouth. He loves to have his fingers inside you while he licks your sensitive clit and brings his long calloused fingers to have you taste your sweet slick.

✯ Sometimes you need to smack that man like you’re tagging out but that only makes him hold you down by grabbing your neck. He is just addicted to the sweet taste you leave in his mouth.

✯ High key loves your tits cause that’s his thing I don’t make the rules. Once he saw you lean over and saw your cleavage that was his limit. Squeezes your tits hard just to hear you yelp but religiously worships them. Your thighs are another thing, his dick twitches to you squeezing his head as he made you cum on his tongue.

✯ Lovemaking isn't his fortay but he’ll do so if he wants to show his love for you. When he is highly stressed, he will be extremely rough. During or after, he’ll ask if you’re okay and if he’s hurting you; Porco gives the best and most amazing aftercare.

✯ This man is super strong, super strong to where he can hold you against walls and hold you up while he fucks you, but loves to fuck you like a rag doll. Pulling your hair as he fucks you doggy style, pinching and biting your tits as he rams into you.

✯ As mentioned before, Porco has never had a woman that can keep up with him nor can have the dirtiest & kinky sex with him, so you were a package deal. Sometimes your sex drive was more than his, you can never get enough of his cock.

✯ He will find every opportunity to fuck you. Any surface place in the house is already checked off. Car sex? Yes, Public bookstore sex? Yes, party bathroom sex? Fuck yeah. Of course, Reiner walked in on you both but continued on like rabbit dogs. Let's just say you both were a match made in kink heaven

✯ Confidence and his ego radiate off him just by him making you cum on his hard cock not to mention his breeding tendencies, he’s never wanted more to cum inside a girl before you. He is a huge family man and loves kids. This man is so infatuated with you that he sees you having his children. His breeding kink is activated when you beg him to cum inside you. Since then, he loses control when he thinks about fucking a baby into you. He makes sure that every last drop of his cum is inside you and literally sticks his finger in your already overstimulated cunt to stop his seed drip out of you.

✯ Porco loves trying new things so bringing toys into the mix was a god-tier. Fascinated by your toys, he would be so excited to use them on you. Instantly gets hard watching what they do to you and gets entranced at the faces you make and the way you moan his name while looking at him. Especially the remote-controlled underwear vibrators, the exhibitionism at its MAX

✯ Although Porco was a manwhore, he became a manwhore for you and only you. He surprises and suggests new positions and games just so he can fuck your brains out. He can fuck you anywhere or on any surface possible, I think you're both just horny for each other and can’t get enough.

tag-list: @kentosovertime @sugarmapoops @sugarbooger513 @severelytalentless @bebechinas99 @jeankirsteinsgirl @katgalle

254 notes · View notes

chromes-corner · 2 years

Note

Hello there! I am a human who is in desperate need of an angst regarding Lilac Cookie and is hoping you could perhaps provide me with one since I absolutely adore your writings. Would that be okay?

I do not have any scenario in mind as my mind had been on a constant "No head, thoughts empty" mood for the past few days. But I was hoping you could do something with reader dying and lots of remorse and guilt for Lilac afterwards (Please, this is my fav stuff lol)

Thank you and bye :D

(Also this is my first request on Tumblr so sorry if anything I said is weird and/or out of place lol)

i have been thinking about this prompt nonstop for days. like I've been fucking CURSED by it. You gave me BRAIN WORMS DUDE. oughhhh i love writing angst so much AND WITH LILAC HELLOOOOO OPPORTUNITY. HELL YEAH BABEYYYY

5k (!!!!) words of brainrot enjoy :))))

---

Drown

Lilac/Reader

Notes: angst

Content Warnings: gratuitous blood, violence, injury, death, brief gore (an appendage gets chopped off ok)

A/N: this might not be as polished as it could be but god i was getting really sick of rereading it and tweaking it in teeny tiny bits. i just had to get it out lmao

A/N cont.: also I experimented a bit with story structure in this one so I hope it’s not too hard to follow?? Idk <3

Emotions are weakness.

That’s the first thing you learn on the job. Anger burns like an inferno and turns into blind rage, which will kill you in the end. Sadness boils in the pit of your stomach and turns into desperation, which will kill you in the end. Happiness dulls your edge and will be used against you, which might as well kill you in the end. Nobody teaches you how to suppress emotions. Nobody shows you how to pull a thick mask over your face until you’re indecipherable from the marble statues in the royal courtyard. It’s learned from experience; from trial and error (and pure luck if you don’t end up dead) that forces you to numb yourself from feeling anything at all. Then, and only then, are you safe from the world and all the terrors it has to throw at you.

Lilac knows this rule all too well. He’s honed himself to a deadly blade on the whetstone of this rule. He’s dedicated his life to it, and it, in return, has become his livelihood, providing him with more coins than he knows what to do with. As long as people roam the markets, there will be quarries to eliminate and bounties to collect. As long as Lilac continues to reinforce his walls, to block out anything and everything, he will survive.

He’s so well versed in the golden rule, in fact, that he doesn’t so much as flinch when the sharp edge of the metal tub slices open the pad of his finger. It’s more of a minor annoyance than a painful affliction – nothing more than a dull scrape against a brick wall. Lilac kneels in the sand over the metal tub, watching a single dark drop lazily dribble down his finger and palm and drip into the clear water, fresh from the well. The blood blossoms out in a wispy cloud, the single drop of pollutant rendering the entire basin spoiled. It only takes a tiny bit of one solution to corrupt another.

The single drop is not the end of it. Lilac submerges both his hands in the tainted waters. He splays his fingers wide, feeling the cool of the liquid seep into every crevice on his stained hands. The long-dried crimson that cakes his palms and crusts his fingernails starts to disperse, pluming out like the flames of a torch, dyeing the water in the wild hue of the desert sunset.

—

It’s like the sky was on fire.

Lilac crept over the lip of a massive dune, kicking up puffs of sand as he walked with light footsteps. He had shed his cowl after he left the marketplace, wrapping it – and the item it held – beneath his arm as the sun had disappeared behind the pale crests in the distance. When he stood on the very top of the massive bank, the wildfire glow revealed itself to him.

The sun hung low in the sky, like a blazing amber pupil trained on the world below. Bronzed clouds stayed still as a held breath against the smoldering backdrop of the evening sky, their edges lit up by the piercing sun like liquid gold. The sea of sand beyond was shrouded in its smoldering haze, dunes like embers and desert birds springing from their hiding spots like stray sparks.

Below the forge of the setting sun was a single, untouched coal, a cool relief within the scald. The tent was pitched beside an outcrop of sandy boulders, protecting it from the midday sun that choked the desert with a grip of scathing steel. It was a white canvas sheet stretched over the sand, held upright by a pole in the center. The color deflected the worst of the heat, and the canvas provided a shady pool to hide under when the scorch of the sands was too much to bear.

As Lilac began to slide down the dune, a head peeked out from under the tarp. Attached to that head was a pair of arms, clutching a tiny dagger to the owner’s chest. He adjusted the bundle of his cowl under his arm as he approached. The wielder of the dagger relaxed their grip on the weapon when they saw the shock of his hair and the weightlessness of his step. There was only ever one person who carried himself like that in the endless ocean of sand.

You greeted Lilac in silence, wordlessly taking his face in your hands and pressing your forehead to his. Lilac was equally as mute, closing his eyes and allowing himself to breathe and let go of the stiffness of his shoulders. Your hands were gentle on his face, bringing him closer, past the limit of proximity that he had originally allowed himself. He ghosted his free hand over your cheek, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing against the softness that he felt he shouldn’t be allowed to behold, much less caress. The unspoken sentiment went both ways: I’m glad you’re okay.

Lilac only opened his eyes when he felt a tug at the bundle under his arm. He forgot it was even there while he was drowning under the soft exhales you had left fanning over his face while you cradled him. He unwrapped his cowl and presented you with the item that was hiding within.

A conch shell.

You stared at the gift with wide eyes, like it would vanish if you looked away. Its smooth, polished surface was cool on your palms, but you almost dropped it as though it had scorched you upon contact. It was pearly white like sands from where it came – wholly different from the pale gold of the desert. You ran your fingers over the various bumps and ridges, memorizing every inch of the pristine shell. Lilac couldn’t look away from its surface reflected in your glassy eyes.

Carefully, slowly, you held the shell up to the side of your head. The hollowed side had fit snugly on your ear. You closed your eyes and held your breath.

You listened for a long time.

—

Lilac blinks, and the image is gone.

He swishes his hands around in the tub and begins to scrub. The dried blood comes off in flakes, and the clarity of the water is entirely lost beneath the pink tint. He scrubs everywhere. Between his fingers. Over his knuckles. Under his fingernails. He passes the stiff bristles of the brush over his hands dozens of times, revisiting the same areas over and over again until the skin is raw and tingling. Still, he does not show express a fraction of discomfort at the feeling.

Finally, he stops his scrubbing. The stains on his hands have been washed away. The skin underneath shows through. Despite this, he still feels unclean.

No matter. Lilac moves on to the next item that needs cleaning. A small, soiled pouch jingles as he picks it up. He dumps its contents into the tub, and he watches the shiny gold coins sink to the bottom.

—

The man behind the desk peered into the bloody sack Lilac provided and grimaced. “Sheesh, I take it he didn’t wanna come willingly?” He pushed the sack away with a pencil until it was at arm’s length. “It doesn’t matter, I guess. You got the job done, and that’s all I asked of you.”

The man haphazardly threw a pouch onto the table in front of him. It landed next to the bloody sack with a full, hearty clink. Lilac took the pouch and dumped it on the table. Dozens of coins fell to the surface with a hefty clatter.

“You think I shorted you?” the man asked with a snort, tapping on the red wooden desk before him as Lilac began to drop them back in the pouch. “They’re all there, friend, trust me. Come on, now, you're gonna stain the imported wood.”

Lilac did not hear him. He could not hear anything. The only thing in his ears was the thrum of blood throbbing through his head. Like the crackle of static. Like the ocean’s tide.

He counted the pieces individually, turning them over in his hand, then letting them fall into the sack. The red that coated his hands dirtied the luster and left the coins wet and slick. Lilac didn’t worry about staining his payment. The money was already dirty, even before he arrived.

The man at the desk watched, gritting his teeth each time Lilac picked up a coin. “I’ve got a few more jobs for you when you’re done with that.”

Lilac did not acknowledge him. The clinking of coins was his only answer, sharp and rhythmic.

The man pushed forward a few sheets of aged parchment from his side of the desk. One depicted a woman in a bandana, her toothy grin nearly as sharp as her daggers. Another was simply a dark, blurry silhouette in the vague shape of a person. The only tip to their identity was the glint of the diamond on their cane and the white bulb of light reflected in their monocle. On the last poster was a hulking beast of a man, his sun-kissed skin wrinkled with sea salt and his yellowed teeth crooked into a sneer. One eye glared into the sunlight, while the other was covered by a black patch.

Lilac’s gaze hovered over the last poster. The man’s heavy, squared frame took up most of the image, but behind him was a glimpse of vast, never-ending water beneath a clear horizon. Blue meeting blue.

Lilac’s employer leaned over the desk. “Ah, looking for a tropical vacation, huh? Ol’ ‘broadside’ here was last spotted in the Tropical Soda Islands, plundering my merchant ships with his ragtag scurvy crew. Good choice, though. I hear the Isles are beautiful this time of year.”

Lilac took the poster and the coin satchel and left without another word.

—

Lilac scoops the coins out of the water and tilts his hand until the light hits them just right. They shine like the day they were minted. They are heavy in his palm, heavy enough to make his arm teeter like it rests on the fulcrum of a scale. Even a single coin in the center of his upturned hand leaves him trembling. They’ve never been so weighty before. They’ve never been so worthless. He lays them on a square of burlap, so they can dry beneath the sun.

The next item to be washed is the lump of stiff, black fabric that was once the thick veil attached to his belt. He pushes it under the water and it loosens, then he goes to work on it with the brush. The material is dark, and it flows beneath the water in slow-motion, as though being pushed by a soft nighttime wind.

—

The rising full moon encircles your head like a halo as you remain still beneath the cover of the black desert sky. Your hair, dark and shapeless against the stark white backdrop, rustles in the breeze.

You listened into the shell until your lungs screamed for air. The first breath you let slip from your lungs came out as a stutter. The first breath you let into your chest was drawn in as a sob. A tear rolled out from beneath your still-closed eye. It trailed slowly over your cheekbone, flushed red, but was wiped away by a gentle thumb.

Your eyes flew open and you pushed the shell into Lilac’s hands. He let you guide it up to his ear, and he closed his eyes as its cool surface rested against the side of his head. He stilled his breath and waited, just as you had.

The static that filled his ear swayed into focus like the tide. The gentle swish rang out throughout the shell and filled his head. It was a sound he had only ever heard stories of. Water lapping against the shore, like the pulsing of a heartbeat. Like the rhythm of a song on the wind. Like the sound of your voice breaking through his trance.

—

The dark stain does not come out. It’s lightened significantly, but as Lilac fans it out to dry, there’s an ugly cloud of brown spanning nearly the entire surface. He traces his fingers around the edges of the stain. It’d be easier to throw the whole thing out and get a new one.

He grabs his twin Chakrams from his side and inspects them. They, too, are stained, their razor edges more red than their normal steely silver. They’re cool to the touch, despite the heat.

—

The marketplace buzzed with life, filled with the calls of criers advertising their wares and the chatter among locals and tourists as they clinked about the shop stands. It was a constant, steady noise; not a whisper and not an uproar. It was static, like a rusty cooling unit sputtering to life in the sweltering afternoon. Like the calm but colossal weight of water creeping up a beach as the tide swelled in.

Lilac stumbled into the narrow street from an even narrower alleyway. He knocked his shoulder against the cool sandstone wall as he pushed himself upright. A damp sack dangled from his hip, still dripping blood into the dusty cobblestone beneath his feet. When Lilac pushed himself from the wall and started forward with all the grace of a newborn doe, his hand left a dark, smeared handprint.

His ears rang and the world tilted beneath his feet, while his legs went into autopilot and carried him toward his destination. The cacophony of the marketplace never ceased, even as eyes, so many of them, followed him down his path. Tourists shied away from the streets. Locals looked away as he came, then at him as he went. Shopkeepers leaned out from the red canopies of their stalls. Some glanced his way and turned back to their business, while others, wide and frightened, bore into the back of his head.

The buzzing of conversation beside him became hushed. Lilac was underwater, the rumble of alarmed voices all around him pulled him deeper and deeper below the surface until the edge of his vision turned black as night. His bleary mind fell down into the depths. The only sound in his head was that of the blood pulsing through his ears, drowning him beneath the torrent.

—

The Chakrams cleaned easily, even in the soiled water. They are quickly returned to deadly perfection. Lilac studies the blades, looking for any spots that he missed. A dirty weapon is poor showmanship. When he finds one, a small blot of dirt crusting the steel, he flicks a fingernail over it. It rings out with a soft metallic peal. White noise in the back of his head.

—

“Do you hear it?” you asked, cradling the back of his hand in yours.

Lilac nodded to the beat of the current that washed over the invisible shore.

“So much water, as far as the eye can see.” You threaded your fingers through his free hand. “They say you can’t see any land on the other side. It’s just water. Blue water meeting a blue horizon.”

You closed your eyes and saw yourself standing on a beach. The sand there was wet, not dry like the desert. The tide massaged your ankles as it washed over the ground beneath your feet. The air was cold and fresh in your lungs, and your nose was flooded with the bite of salt on the breeze that melded around your body like the lightest of fabrics.

Lilac pictured a beach, too. All he could see was you running down the beach, kicking up a spray of salty water in the red sunset with each joyful footstep.

“I will take you there.” Lilac clung to the image of your joy, your laughter fully drowning out the white noise. “We’ll see the ocean together.”

—

Plink.

A droplet of water splashes against the blade of his Chakram. Lilac turns the weapon over in his hand. The reflection of the sun flashes brilliantly against the shining steel. He instinctively squeezes his eyes shut as the brightness momentarily blinds him.

Plink.

Another drip, despite the clarity of the day. The liquid slides down the blade and drops unceremoniously into the tub.

—

Plink.

You looked so small in the dark, narrow space, with your shoulders shrunk inward and your arms squeezed tightly against your chest. Your hands were clenched over the steel below your chin, and the metal just barely kissed your throat. Your fingers were so stiff, so tense that the entire length of your arms, all the way to your neck and shoulders, trembled. Lines of red drew themselves down the blade as you tightened your grip on the steel and tried to pull it away from your throat with all the strength you could muster.

Your eyes were trained on him, wild and frenzied, pupils constricted as your teeth chattered.

Plink.

The tear that rolled down your face dripped onto the scimitar skimming your jaw.

Lilac tightened his grip on his Chakrams, the sharp edges trained at the person before him. It was just a young man, barely out of his teens, who had a hand tangled firmly in your hair. He, too, had a wild look in his eyes. The hold he had on his sword’s hilt left his knuckles nearly as pale as his face, and there was no doubt his palms were as slick as his forehead. The man lurched back into the shadows, cornered and so very afraid as he tilted his blade back to meet your throat.

“You don’t want to do this.” Lilac was the first to speak, his tone measured and calm as he matched the man’s step back with a calculated step forward. “I can take you in breathing, or I can drag you in stiff.”

“Don’t come any closer!” the young man exclaimed. His voice shook and cracked.

Lilac stilled himself, even as his heart crashed against his chest and boomed in his ears like a seaside thunderstorm. The man was holding you to his chest like you were a shield, and cowering like a trapped animal.

All Lilac needed was a window for him to fling one of his weapons. The man would make a mistake sooner or later. He was so very young, face still plump from childhood, as scared and as pale as you were. He wasn’t a murderer, only a petty thief who stole from the wrong person. A moment of hesitation — or flat-out surrender — was inevitable. Lilac kept his eyes trained on the man, waiting for that perfect moment.

“Lilac,” you whimpered beneath tears. “Lilac, help me…”

“Shut up!” The man jerked your head back and curled his fingers deeper into your hair.

The angle at which he pulled you was perfect. With the man’s attention drawn away and the side of his neck exposed, Lilac flicked a Chakram forward, faster than lightning. The man didn’t even know what hit him as his hands jerked to the side to clutch his neck. His sword clattered against the wall where he threw it in his panic, and both it and the man fell to the ground.

—

Plink.

Lilac inhales sharply and holds his head as it throbs, squeezing his eyes tight with a pained grimace. Blood thunders through his ears like drums, beating his temples over and over until he doubles over and clutches the edge of the tub. He reaches for the next item to clean, clenching his teeth and struggling to breathe.

There is nothing left.

With his equipment washed, the water has run red. Lilac cannot see the bottom of the tub. The reflection of the sun is muted, drowning beneath the clouded liquid. The pale yellow of the sun and the deep gold of the sand pale before the stark red that stains the opaque water. Red like the desert sky. Red like imported wood. Red like the flush of your cheeks. Red like a shopkeep’s canopy. Red like an ocean sunset. Red like blood dripping down a blade. Red like death.

Lilac, clinging to the edge of the metal tub, watching his reflection like it’s a stranger staring back at him, drowns in the red.

—

It was a shame someone so young had to meet their end in such a bloody way.

Lilac leaned over the body and positioned his blade over the man’s hand. He balanced the sole of his foot on the flat edge inside the Chakram’s loop and pushed down. In one swift movement, he separated the dead man’s forefinger from his body with a soft crack. The finger was still warm when he plucked it from the ground, and Lilac was prompt to drop it into a sack at his hip. With the proof of his completed job secured, he was ready to collect his payment for the quarry and get you as far away from there as he could.

When he turned around, Lilac expected to see you leaning against the wall, scared and shaking and ready to take his hand. Ready for him to make everything alright like he promised he always would. What he saw instead was so much worse than he could ever imagine.

You were on your back, mouth agape as your body seized. Lilac's blades clattered to the ground as he dropped to your side. Beneath his legs, the growing puddle gushed out and pooled around his knees.

The open wound on your neck was a long, perfectly straight line, a clean slice made in a split second when the man threw his sword to the side to grasp at his own wound. You weakly palmed at the cut, gasping in ragged, shallow breaths as your hands slipped right off the crimson that spilled out like water from a spigot.

He tried to stop it with his hands, first. The blood pulsed out from beneath his palms despite the pressure he put on it. It slicked his hands and leaked through the gaps between his fingers, coating him in its scorching reach. The bite of metal overpowered his personal fragrance, burning his nostrils and clogging his throat as he pressed his palms against your skin.

It kept coming, even as he clasped his hands tight, so tight, over your neck. Lilac ripped the soft lavender veil from his belt and wadded it up, frantically pushing it against your throat. The fabric plugged the wound for a few moments before it, too, became sopping wet.

You looked at Lilac with eyes nearly popping out of your head. Sweat covered your face in a film, shining on your skin as it paled under the blood loss. Your inhales became thick, and your exhales came out in gurgles.

“L… Li…” It takes all your strength to flex your tongue to the roof of your mouth.

Lilac shushes you. “Don’t speak. Just breathe.”

You attempted to nod, but all you could manage was a tremble. You clenched your mouth shut and gritted your teeth so hard they felt like they could crack. Breathing through your nose, you stared up at the sky and clenched your hands into weak fists.

Stop, stop, it has to stop, Lilac silently begged, willing the cascade of red to cease from prayer alone. He’d seen blood like this, caused by his hand, but it’s never sickened him to this level. It’d never made his heart feel like it was going to jump right out of his body. Bile rose in the back of his throat, and he held his breath so the scent and the wetness and the fact that there was so much being spilled from something so small so quickly didn’t cause his stomach to vacate itself.

The veil was so heavy under his hands, so full that it no longer absorbed any more blood. Excess dripped down from the dark edges and tassels as it overflowed, leaving the crimson that was still flowing freely from your throat to find another place to pool.

He focused all his attention on stopping the bleeding that he hardly noticed when your shakes started to die down. The rapid rise and fall of your chest became stunted, and each exhale left a few beats of stillness in your chest before lurching back up with another gasp. Your palms were face-down on the dirty stone ground, fingers arched, no longer curled into the butt of your hands.

Lilac nudged your cheek. “Stay awake.”

You took a few rapid breaths and whimpered in confirmation of his words.

The flow was finally coming to a halt beneath the veil — as if that was any consolation. The pool beneath your neck seeped into the cracks of the cobblestone ground, painting the smooth rocks a shade darker than their typical gray. Lilac’s hands had become sticky as the wetness baked and dried under the blazing desert heat. If he could get you to a point where you could securely cover the wound while he got help, you would have a chance. He just needs—

“A little longer,” he says, watching your chest stutter in acknowledgment.

Lilac copied your breathing, counting the seconds between each breath.

One, two… one, two…

“Do you remember what I told you?”

One… one, two… one, two…

“I’ll take you to see the ocean.”

One, two…

“We’ll sail out to a distant island.”

One, two…

“We can watch the blue in every direction, as far as the eye can see.”

One, two, three… one, two…

“Just keep thinking of the ocean.”

One, two, three…

“Think of the ocean.”

Four, five, six…

“Can you hear it?”

Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve…

Lilac stopped counting. He stilled, hands still pressed to your throat, watching the sweat on your face dry and the color bleed from your face. He listened for the sound of your breathing. For a whimper. For any indication of consciousness.

He listened for a long time.

—

Drip.

The tub trembles under his grip. The soiled water sloshes around as Lilac shakes, every muscle stretched taut and lit on fire. His fingers clamp down over the sharp edge. The metal breaks his skin. He does not feel it.

Drip. Drip.

His heart pounds in his throat as he closes his eyes. The scene from the alleyway plays itself out, again and again, seared into the back of his eyelids. With every blink, all he can see is you, staring into the sky, collapsed and lying still on the dirty ground. Your eyes, so wide and scared and pleading for help, his help, losing their light and becoming blank as your entire body seized and you choked and gurgled on hot, slick red.

Emotions are weakness.

Drip drip drip.

Lilac is a machine. He obeys his orders and executes his programs. He was an autonomous being that did as it was told without a single thought or opinion about the whole ordeal. Kill. Get paid. Kill. Get paid. A looping function that never returned zero, that never reached the termination protocol. Kill. Get paid. Kill. Get paid. Numb to the world and to the victims of his hands. A simple cycle that he went and ruined, all because he caved into the weakness of emotion. Because he let himself grow weak and left his walls to weather against the soft rain that held him in its sweet embrace. Anger will kill you in the end.

Drip drip drip.

He grew weak. He was weak. He should’ve known you would follow him, always concerned for his safety, always refusing to believe that he could handle himself. He should’ve known you’d be found. You did not grow up on the golden rule. You were never taught to stalk the streets, always checking behind your back and honing your senses to detect even the slightest disturbance. He should’ve known his happiness would be used against him. It was only a matter of time before his weak spot was discovered. If he wasn’t weak, so damn weak, you wouldn’t be rotting in some dank alleyway, or buried out in the sands, or whatever his employer did to your body when he sent his men to clean up the scene. You could’ve been happy and safe and none the wiser to the crushing numbness of his heart, had he not let himself indulge in the first shred of happiness he’d felt in years. Sadness will kill you in the end.

Drip. Drip drip drip drip.

The tears flow freely now, the taste of salt mixing with the smell of metal. The barriers he worked so hard to build eroded away in your touch. The numbness, once replaced by a warm morning’s bliss, evolves into a dark ache that eats him from the inside out. Like a storm raging off the coast, like the wind beating on a sail, the emotion breaks through the fortifications. The stronghold of his honed mind collapses. Lilac cries and gasps and shakes for the first time since he was a child.

He was weak.

He was happy.

Nearly all his life, he’d been underwater, pulled along by the current, granted just enough light to see where he was headed. Nothing else mattered except moving forward. Then, he was pulled out of the water without warning, thrust into the world that was just beyond the surface. A part of him that he had locked in a box and buried in the desert was unearthed. It was chaotic. It was terrifying. It was beautiful.

It was you.

It came like a shock of lightning. Like a tidal wave crashing against the shore. When he was with you, the air was that much sweeter. The earth was that much softer. His heart was that much lighter.

Happiness was beautiful and so much bigger than he could ever imagine. It was a blooming in his chest, like the petals of a flower opening up to the sunshine. It was the cool moon shedding its light over the ceaseless plains of sand. It was the ocean meeting the sky, blue meeting blue, everywhere you looked, stretching infinitely beyond the horizon and winding around your heart until it was part of that infinity, all-encompassing, all-embracing.

Lilac never believed he could feel love. He thought it had died — that he had killed it, over and over again — just like his targets. He thought that everything he worked toward was meant to kill it and ensure that it stayed dead. It was still there, however; a seed burrowed inside a heart trained to be still. It waited for you to come and nurture it, to let it grow and spread until he was love, open and ceaseless and infinite.

And then he really did kill it. It really did die, choking on its own blood as it pleaded for his help, begging for him to save its life.

That blood is on his hands. He will carry the feeling of sickly wetness on his skin, in his heart, for the rest of his life. Every time he feels even an iota of happiness, he will be reminded that his love is dead, buried in a shallow, unmarked grave, and it’s his fault. The numbness buzzes in his ears. Like crackling static. Like the ocean’s tide. Like your laughter, sweet on the wind and full of joy. Like your breathing, shallow and ragged, and the moment it stops endlessly replaying in his head.

Happiness might as well kill you in the end.

#cookie run x reader #lilac cookie x reader #lilac cookie #cookie run

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suna-reversed · 3 years

Text

Icarus’ Irony ☀️

Toji Fushiguro x Fem! Reader

alternative title: “but I crumble completely when you cry”

2k+ words

Minors DNI‼️

A/N: if you haven’t already seen this cosplay, go get some Toji brainrot

Warnings/Tags: mentions of violence, manhandling, dacryphilia, mild dub-con, fingering, mating press, cum play, breeding kink, size difference, cheating, smoking/alcohol, shotgunning, degradation, slight praise, angstt, hurt/comfort

“Do you know of how Icarus fell?”

His question snapped you out of your post orgasm daze. You looked up at him from where your head rested on his bare chest, thighs straddling his lap, quivering a little as you pulled away to look at his face in the moonlight.

“He flew too close to the sun?”

Toji looked deep in thought as you answered, nodding his head slightly,

“Ah yes, he did…”

You almost purred as his warm hand slid up your thigh, kneading the sore-marked flesh,

“ ...but that wasn’t what what damned him”

He paused again, dangling the lit cigarette held in between the index and middle finger of his other hand, the same fingers that were buried deep inside of you not too long ago,

“...his ruination came with his desire. The closer he got, the more he craved. His delusion didn’t even let him feel the searing heat that burned through his flesh. He was too lost in thought of the eternal glory he believed he’d found.”

Toji adjusted his gaze to meet your eyes, the acrid scent of smoke hitting you as he leaned forward. His actions seemed slowed and you found it hard to differentiate the golden aura around his silhouette from his actual self. Has he always been so ethereal?

“Do you think he smiled?”

“Huh?” you mumbled out drowsily, your head falling back on his chest, breathing in his intoxicating scent. night-chilled mist and cedar. His hoarse chuckle sent shivers down your spine.

“I asked, do you think he smiled...knowing he was the only one to ever get that close to the sun, even if it destroyed him in the end?”

You heard Toji take a puff out of his cigarette and your breath hitched as a hand came to your jaw, tilting your head up as he exhaled out the smoke in between your parted lips.

How had he stayed this long tonight? Usually, you’d be cleaning yourself up by this time, no trace left of the man who had been whispering sultry words into your ear while pounding into you from behind moments ago. He was never this talkative afterwards either.

“Why are you asking me this?”

He leaned back, turning his head away from you. The slightest of change could be sensed in his posture as you hesitantly brought your fingers up to trace the scar next to his lips. He’d grabbed onto your wrist halfway before it could reach his mouth everytime that you had tried it before, growling a low “wanna try that again?”, that usually led to you being stuffed full of him once more. Perhaps he was too high to care tonight?

“Why am I asking you this?” A dry laugh left his throat as he finally looked back at you, still making no attempts to pull your hand away from his face.

“because I think you’re flying dangerously close; whether for warmth, for lust, for love; whatever it is, I have a feeling you’ll go down smiling even when the light sets you aflame.”

You were too lost in his eyes, your mind clouded by the feel of his unclothed skin against yours. How did he get the scar? Had he ever told you? Did she know about it? A burning sensation formed in the pit of your chest as your eyes slid to the gold band kept neatly on the nightstand. He removes it every single time; right before he sinks to his knees with a moan, saying his prayers in between your thighs as your heels dig into his spine.

You couldn't register his words anymore. It all sounded like incoherent gibberish, perhaps that's what it all was. Perhaps, that’s all everything he’s ever said was.

“I only stay with her because of my son”

“I’ll get a divorce soon enough”

“She wont let me live in peace if she finds out-”

All gibberish. Garbage. Empty promises. Lies. Words that held no meaning.

His lips were still moving, but all you could hear was the loud ringing in your ears. Suddenly, the sensation of his flesh against yours felt like too much. You couldn't breathe as bile rose up to the back of your throat. You pulled your head away from his chest, but the warmth wouldn’t leave you, the wet feeling on your cheeks worsening the burning of your skin.

Why was he still speaking? Could he not see that you were dying?

Shut up, shut up, shut up-

You found your lips moving out of their own accord

“Leave-leave me alone I hate you”

The sob that ripped from your throat made you feel like you had just been pushed off from a skyscraper, feeling the end nearing, but it never quite seemed to come.

Your incoherent pleas of being left alone continued as you felt muscular arms wrap around your figure; your sobs getting louder as you felt yourself being picked up, and then laid down on the plush mattress that still held the remnants of your previous feat with the man above you.

You didn't realise you had been thrashing until a hand grabbed onto your wrists, bringing them together as Toji used his weight to pin your struggling body down, his other arm coming around to pull you into his chest, effectively muffling out your screams.

Your sobs took a while to die out; leaving your eyes burning, throat dry, and the throbbing pain in your head worsening by the second as you continued to stare at the chipped ceiling past his shoulder. The same ceiling you had stared up at as he had ruthlessly rutted into your cunt, calling you “his obedient little slut”- “his cumdump”.

That’s what you’ll always be, isn't it?

You felt the grip around your body loosen, the weight lifting off of you slightly as your eyes came in level with his face. He held an unreadable expression like always. A bitter laugh escaped your throat as you looked back on all the times you had dreamed of the scar next to his lip twitching up, only for you.

“Stop it.” His voice was smooth, your body instinctively reacting to his command. You hated it. But you still did have control over your words,

“Fuck off”

You saw his eyes darken, his hand moving up to grab your jaw harshly,

“What was that?”

Smack!

Your palm burned as it landed, the skin of his cheek already tinting a deeper shade of crimson.

Heavy silence hung in the room.

You gasped in shock as you felt a pair of lips crash down onto yours, Toji’s tongue making its way into your mouth as you groaned. You contemplated biting his tongue, but the rational part of your brain seemed to be dulling out more and more the longer that his tongue remained clashing with yours, his hands moving up your abdomen to grope your chest, pinching and tugging at your sensitive nipples.

You shut your legs together as his hand tried to slither in between, but your efforts were to no avail as he grabbed onto your thigh, holding it away, not even wasting a second to dip his fingers into your heat. You felt your face heat up at the wetness he found there. Toji moved back to sit on his knees, thumb circling your clit as you tried not to let out any more sounds of pleasure.

“You hate me huh? Then what’s this?” His fingers pumped in faster inside of you making you arch your back, a cry of shame leaving your mouth.

Toji grabbed onto your thighs to push them up to your chest, throwing your legs over his shoulders and biting at the tender skin he found. A loud moan left you as you felt him line up with your entrance, the tip already making you feel the stretch of his huge girth.

You opened your eyes, only to be met with the same chipped ceiling once again. Tears welled up in your eyes, making your vision blurry as you felt a sob bubbling in your chest, pitying your own resolve for breaking so soon.

But then you felt something rub against your cheek. A calloused thumb brushing away the tears as a forehead came down to press against yours, and you found your orbs locked onto the malicious ones of the man you had wrecked your sanity for.

“You are…” he sighs out, and you grunt as he slides deeper into you, “...the only thought that plagues my mind.”

His lips meld with yours once more as he finishes his sentence, both of your moans being muffled against each other’s mouth.

“...all-the-damn-fucking-time” he thrusts into you in between words. It's the closest he’s come to being gentle as his strokes, though slow, still hit deep inside of your dripping cunt. His hips jut into you more intensely as you bite his lip, hands moving up to entangle themselves into his dark locks.

You were crying and moaning and screaming all at the same time as his cock hit all the right spots, the pain of his huge member still being evident even after it had fucked out your pussy countless times. But it was drowned out by the pleasure as his fingers found your clit once more, hastily rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves as he picked up his pace. You found your face contorting in pleasure soon enough, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts as you felt your climax coming.

“C’mon, go ahead, cream all around my cock like the good girl you are.” He grunted, voice deep and dripping in honey.

The coil in the pit of your stomach snapped as his tongue licked its way up from your neck to your jaw. Toji continued fucking into you as you rode out your orgasm, your body spasming from the overstimulation as you felt your insides being filled with thick spurts of cum. Toji groaned, pulling back to look at the sight of your cum-filled cunt, collecting the slickness that had dripped out of your hole with his thumb, only to push it back inside.

You were too tired to move a muscle, too tired to cry or curse him as he got up, walking out the bedroom door. The hollow feeling once again flooded your chest as you shut your eyes, hoping to wake up from this endless nightmare.

Your body jerked awake as you felt something cool slide against your thigh. You snapped your eyes open, lifting your head, only to find the man you had just cussed out a thousand different ways sitting on the edge of the bed, a wet cloth in his hand. You were too stunned to say anything, staring at him as he inched forward, continuing his task of cleaning up the mess.

You let your head fall back against the mattress, sighing as the conflicting thoughts in your mind continued to race on. You found yourself being lifted, a blanket being put over you before your head was pulled into a warm chest, arms wrapping around you as a hand cradled the back of your head. Your thoughts all disappeared away, the familiarity of his body becoming almost cozy as sleep took over your senses. You thought you heard him mutter something, but then again, you might as well have dreamt it.

----------

Toji found his hand lingering over the door handle as he glanced at your slumbering figure. Sighing, he walked back over to cover you with the blanket that you had kicked off.

He found his own mind flooded with conflicting feelings as he walked out of your building. He had never stayed the night before. Moreover, he was trying to find a justification for the three cursed words he had muttered last night.

He decided to blame it on the nicotine that was clogging his system. Even though he had felt his high clearing as soon as he had seen you sobbing and moving away from him, your face filled with disgust. He never wanted to see you feel that way about him again.

He looked down at the golden band clutched tightly in his palm. The metal was starting to rust. He was surprised your curious little mind didn’t notice, didn't ask him why - because real gold didn’t rust. He found his mind flashing back to the first time you had asked him,

“Are you...seeing someone?”

He hadn’t known you for too long then, but the tug in his chest each time you were around made him want to disappear out of existence.

You made him want to lose all restraint, and what would the man be if he lost his sense of identity, the only armour he harboured; his rigid demeanour.

The lie had rolled off his tongue easily enough, switching over the band on his index finger to his ring finger under the table. Lifting it up for you to see, he had felt his heart clench at the flicker of sadness in your eyes. But that seemed to work as even more proof for why he had to draw a boundary around himself.

You burned like a thousand fires, your brightness blinding, your warmth creeping up to thaw the ice around his heart.

It terrified him.

How he always ended up coming back for more, how he ended up breaking a little more each time his name slipped past your sweet lips, how he’d vowed to destroy anything that dared cause you agony. Even if it meant destroying himself.

Toji Fushiguro finally knew the answer to his question.

He too, would go down with a smile if it was you lighting the match to his pyre, if it was you ripping the wings off his back.

After all you were the only light in his life, his precious sun.

How does it matter if he burns himself out trying to get closer to you?

#fushiguro toji #toji x reader #toji smut #toji angst #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk hcs #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk x reader #gojo smut #sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen tw #toji x you #toji fic #jujutsu kaisen angst #sukuna x reader #yuji x reader

5K notes · View notes

sunfireshards · 3 years

Text

So yesterday Scott Smajor released EmpiresSMP lore.

And I’m not talking about the “creepy yet slightly funny occurrences with the demon” type of lore, no no no.

I’m talking “Tommy in the later weeks of the exile arc” type lore.

As Tommy’s exile lore destroyed me, this piece of lore has also been proven to be extremely detrimental to my brain. In shorter words, I have 1000 levels….of brainrot.

And as one tumblr user does when we find brainrot over lore from a literal block game….I’m gonna make a serious but also slightly nonsensical theory about it!

———

(A bit of a warning, murder is mentioned at one bit, so TW for that! And also disclaimer: I AM NOT AN ELF. I DON’T KNOW HOW TO SPELL ELVISH NAMES. PLEASE DON’T COME AT ME, I’M TRYING MY BEST. TY.)

[No hate to the CCs! I might call the characters stupid or dumb once in a while, but the CCs are chill!]

Also, if it wasn’t obvious already, SPOILERS AHEAD.

Ok so basically Mr. Smajor wanted to make a bit of a secret lair and went to go find some moss for said lair. He just so happened to jump off his measly and very unsafe (Scott, what on earth were you thinking.) bridge, to one of the many mini cave-holes in the mountains (Cave-Holes?? That is what you call them right-) which led him to finding a bit of terra formed wall. He dug into it and found a bit of an artificial cave.

Now Scott being the ever so big-brained person he is, ventured into the cave alone without any idea of what or who could be awaiting him (I mean to be fair, he did have weapons but come on man.) He found a cobbled balcony overlooking an underwater river, and further overlooking a quite wide tunnel with crimson corruption growing out of it. Once again Scott proves his genius by venturing into the tunnel alone, even though crimson was covering every nook and cranny.

Once inside he finds a lectern, with a 20 page book which told the story of “The Clash Of The Great Stags.” Now me being me, I don’t remember the entire story nor have the patience to tell it all, but here’s a jist:

———

This story was about the old gods of the elvish culture built in EmpiresSMP. There was a bit of an entity going around the land and bringing about general destruction, you know, wiping out cities, committing mass murder, the usual. The gods spent all their power trying to defeat this entity and that put them in deep sleep, except for the two brother stags, Aeor and Aexor.

Apparently Aexor had a jealous sibling moment because after ruling for years together, people seemed to like Aeor more. (Gee, I wonder why? It’s not like Aexor was downright TERRIBLE.) Anyways, one thing led to another, and the next thing you know the entire elvish community is separated like the Royals and Rebels from Ever After High after legacy day. (If you know, you know.)

Aeor was a kind person- sorry, stag. He treated everyone fairly, and was a kind person. Now Aexor- think, all types of discrimination possible combined into one, but then make it elvish, and a stag. That, that would be Aexor. Awful. -100/10. Held sacrifices of the weak- we don’t do that here. Now kids, in modern times, people like Aexor are known as trash. Anyways Aexor and his followers left and ravaged towns and empires. Cue Aeor and his own followers coming to save the day. Long story short, Aexor was defeated, the followers were killed, and Aeor banished his brother to a deep cave.

Of all the things he could’ve done. Why.

Fast forward millennia, and the old gods have possibly all faded but they are remembered as tales parents tell their kids. Two elf brothers were just so wandering about and found a cave. (Here we go again…) One of the two, Alinar, was smart and warned his brother, Könul that according to the legends Aexor was banished to a deep cave, and he should be careful. However, like Dream did with EpicLandlord saying Parkour Warrior was unbeatable- Könul disagreed, and went in anyways. Bad idea.

Here comes the bit where Aexor (Yeah, apparently he was still there in spirit. DAMN IT AEOR.) acted a tad bit like the Egg on the DreamSMP (So, DSMP fans, how we coping from the banquet?) and basically promised innocent Könul for all that he could want. And well, he was sold. For the next few years, Könul kept on visiting, and Alinar grew more worried for his brother.

You know how Techno said history repeats itself? Yeah, um, brother fought brother once again, this time with the spirits of Aeor and Aexor backing up Alinar and Könul respectively. This time, they were smart, and they banished Könul and Aexor to a different world entirely.

Aeor also wiped the entire world's memories, Alinar included, with the last of his power.

This next thing was the bit that caught my eye.

“Upon reaching the last moments of his [Alinar’s] life, his soul, now bonded with the great stag spirit Aeor, would pass on to a new host. The prophecy says that when the world needs them, Alinar’s new being will be reminded of their past life, and set forth to stop the corruption.”

(Source - Page 19, The Clash Of The Great Stags [“I know who the Demon is! - Minecraft Empires SMP - Ep. 13” from Scott’s YouTube, Dangthatsalongname])

———

Well.

That happened.

Scott, as one would be, was spooked. He found these golden reindeer antlers that fit perfectly over his head. He realized that the spirits of Aeor and Alinar were influencing him about his choice of decoration. But now, as he sealed off the tunnel, he realized he had a bigger part to play in defeating Xornoth.

And one more thing.

He could not let that dragon die under any circumstances.

Ok real talk though, moving away from my sarcasm before, Empires!Scott? Genius. Galaxy Brain, 1000 IQ. I’m not even kidding, he figured it all out IMMEDIATELY.

He read that long story and he just understood. You have me screaming at the screen that “XORNOTH AND YOU ARE RELATED” and bam, he’s saying the same thing a few seconds later.

I feel like history’s gonna repeat itself again and it’s just gonna be even worse this time because he has a lot of people to deal with: Sausage, the demons lackey of sorts; Joey, who has a crush on the demon; (Dude. Seriously?); And possibly even Katherine, Fwhip and Gem, who the demon said were “Test Subjects” and BOY does that not sound good.

What Scott said made perfect sense. The demon hasn’t been visiting Rivendell quite a lot is because Scott is there. The one time that it did appear on Scott’s stream, it wasn’t exactly doing anything threatening, but it was watching Scott, probably to see if he knows the truth.

And poor Shelby, not knowing she brought a demon along with her from another world. Can we get some F’s in the chat’s for her?

Scott is gonna need all the help he can get. He could risk it with Gem, Fwhip and Katherine, but not tell them much. Shelby, definitely, and maybe Pix and Pearl too, considering they’ve also been visited by the demon. He’ll probably have to get Joel and Lizzie on board too if worst comes to worst. Joey and Sausage are immediate no-goes, those two, for some reason, decided that being in league with a demon would be good for them.

Again, why.

———

So that’s it from me folks! This was more of recap then a theory with my own added input, because as I said, Empires!Scott has a massive brain. If you enjoyed don’t forget to like and reblog the post! And also, FOLLOWING IS FREE! If you want, head over to my profile and click the follow button, I appreciate every single one a lot!

And of course, I would love to hear what you all think about this and the whole situation in general, so reblog, submit, comment, or ask away! And about the Scott VS. Xornoth situation? I think we’re in for a wild ride.

Anyways, I’ll see you all next time with another theory. Peace out. o/

#empires smp lore #empiresblr #scott smajor #smajor1995 #dangthatsalongname #xornoth #empires smp #empires smp theory #c!smajor #shards speaks

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