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cafeinthemoon · 1 year

Text

King - Chapter VIII

Chapter 8

Wordcount 3,8k

Title Worthy

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 🖤

Warnings: Poseidon is not a soft man; he knows how to make a girl cry

Tagging @cloveradora @the-dumber-scaramouche @mikkies @sl33py-zer0 @nooneknows8976 (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: So I really wanted a cool title for this chapter, but nothing better than this one :/

Here's something about the quake that I forgot to explain in the previous chapter's notes: the reason why the girls didn't fall in another place when they witnessed the quake right in their first day at the palace was that Proteus was there. Knowing what happens after the quakes caused by his master, he knows how to guide people through the right path and might have a way to protect them from the effects. Since reader was alone when the second quake happened, there wasn't much she could do to protect herself. The idea for these sudden changes came when I was first building my concept for the Lord of the Seas: in Greek mythology, he was an unstable and irascible man, so it would be only fair that his house fitted his temper. It's not clear if hes aware of this, but it's not hard to suppose that he uses this changes to reach his purposes, combined with his extended vision, about which he will speak in this chapter.

Hope you enjoy it :)

Also a change in the gif because... well, you'll see 😅

Nothing in that path was known to you.

The corridors – all of them shorter than the one where you met – were as blue and plain as the first one, and no doors or windows were present in them as well, making it impossible for you to try and memorize the way. Still, you couldn’t help feeling like you were walking in circles, even though your husband took different directions.

And to think that, if he hasn’t appeared at the right moment, I could be dead by now.

You were absorbed in those thoughts when Poseidon stopped in front of a door and put you down, but kept a hand on your wrist, though you would be a fool if you tried to run and take the risk of getting lost again – sometimes, not knowing what he took you for was irritating. He opened the door and, after making you enter before him, he locked it behind his back. You looked around… And found yourself in a familiar place.

He brought me to his chambers again.

You started wondering if that strange transformation in the environment was deliberated, if finding you was his final goal or if it was just a coincidence. Well, if he wanted to find you, he could’ve just sent a servant to the women’s lodge; where else did he think he could find you? But, at the same time, he didn’t seem the type who always chooses the obvious way. He didn’t use to give many explanations on his actions, but you already noticed that everything he did had a reason.

And, that time, you didn’t need to wait for too long to find it out.

Without a word, he grabbed your wrist and led you to the direction you knew the bathing area was. It was a short way, but you took the opportunity to observe the surroundings, and that’s how you noticed how clean and organized the room was: no clothes on the floor, no scent of perfume or essential oils in the air, no messed sheets upon the bed, which curtains were opened and wrapped, as if waiting for the next night; not even the small table and the bottle of contraceptive was visible beside it.

No signs of your passage were present there.

You turned your face away from the scene and tried not think about it, as you finally crossed the small corridor through which you were taken to the shower, that one where you almost drowned.

Is he going to make me bathe on it again?

Fortunately, that’s not what happened.

As you stopped before the shower, Poseidon took the shawl off your shoulders and told you to take off your shoes. He grabbed everything and put it on a place near, where the water wouldn’t reach, then led you to the bathtub area, returning to the shower and leaving you there by yourself. The air was warm, and the bathtub was already full.

Moments later, he walked after you, without his clothes and ready to enter the bathtub. You looked away when he passed by you, only seeing the moment he touched the water with the corner of your eye. When you looked again, he already had half of his body covered in water, in the same spot where he stood with you yesterday.

You took a moment to notice he was staring at you.

– Go to that shelf and bring something to me – he pointed at the shelf in question.

You went there and he indicated the line and the position of the chosen bottle. It was similar to the ones that contained the healing salts used in your previous bath there, but had an orange, creamy substance inside it, like a lotion.

You barely had the chance to observe the label to confirm its nature.

– Bring it here.

You obeyed, kneeling behind him and giving him the bottle. He opened it and gave it back to you.

– Make yourself useful and use it to massage my shoulders.

The order was clear, yet you took a second to process it: he brought you to his room just for you to do the work of a servant? Well, it was useless to argue: you were already there, and the bottle was opened; you couldn’t let him waiting, risking what was left of his patience after the unpleasing task of eliminating an insubordinate individual.

You took a generous amount of the lotion, spread it on your palms – not missing the chance to enjoy its pleasing texture – and started to work.

Somehow, it felt like you were touching his skin for the first time, for you were under a good light, entirely in control of your senses, not having to stand his glare, something that would certainly make your hands shake and interfere in your performance. With all those issues out of the way, you allowed yourself a bit of relaxation, using that time to observe your husband in a way you still haven’t the chance to do, and with that you noticed a curious detail: despite the warmth of the water, his skin didn’t turn rosy, but kept the uniformity of its pale shade, only changing in the spots where you spread the lotion; besides, he had no marks all over his back, even less on his neck; as you looked for them, your hands followed your eyes, trying to guess if there was at least the reminiscence of a scratch or a scar – but nothing could be found, and that was less impressive than scary.

He’s so fast that it’s impossible to touch him in a fight, and I can’t think of someone who’d be brave enough to get so close if he gave them the chance.

As you brought your hands to his neck, you observed something that counterbalanced this thought: his hair wasn’t entirely blond, as seen from a distance, but it had its roots in a silver shade, which changed to the evident golden. Compared to the thing about his skin, it was trivial, almost ridiculous.

Poseidon’s voice brought you back to reality.

– You are getting distracted – he casually commented – Your hands stopped.

It was true: you realized you were lost in your observations, and immediately got back to work. But that wasn’t the end of his admonition.

– Delicacy is appreciated in massaging sessions, but this is too much. Your touch is lacking strength – he glanced behind – Or are you going to tell me that this is the best you can do with these tiny hands of yours?

If your delicacy was too much for him, his provocations were too much for you. You held back a sigh of impatience, but compensated it by burying your nails on his skin.

Is this better for you?

This only caused him a chuckle.

– Ah, this is better. But do not use your nails.

You bit your lip, but said nothing in response. Apparently, there was a way to satisfy him through your aggressiveness – and that was something you preferred not to discuss. You just decided to keep the rhythm and wait until he told you to stop…

Which didn’t happen without a conversation.

– That place where I found you – Poseidon started – It is not one where your presence should be expected. I suppose you went there by accident. So, tell me, where were you trying to go?

For a second, you felt tempted to discuss the strange phenomenon that brought you to that corridor, but changed your mind and kept your answer simple.

– To the Library.

– The servants use to bring books for you at the lodge – he continued – Aren’t they entertaining enough?

You started massaging the back of his neck, your thumbs drawing circles upon his spine.

– I wasn’t looking for entertainment, my Lord.

– What were you looking for, then?

– Information.

– What kind of information? – he pressed.

– Anything that could be useful… to help me in my task.

A tense silence fell between you. You didn’t need to explain what you meant with task. In the end, Poseidon approved your attitude.

– I would not expect anything different from you – and, suddenly changing the subject, –Speaking of this, I have heard that you went to take your first meal in the company of the other girls today, and that this resulted in fabulous interactions between you. Can you speak about this to me?

You swallowed.

Just as expected, nothing stays hidden from him in this place.

– It was strange to me at first, because I’m not used to be in the company of people from multiple folks – you spoke carefully – But everything was alright in the end. The women received me well, and I had Alyssa with me, so I wouldn’t feel alone.

His response to this was a long “hm”, followed by a subtle movement of his left arm, that was resting upon the bathtub’s border: he slowly raised it from the marble, until his hand reached your cheek, his fingers caressing your skin as it started to heat up. Your hands stopped working again.

– You are always so vague whenever I try to have a proper conversation with you, my dragonet – he chuckled – What are you afraid of? Did you forget who I am to you? Or maybe you do not know how marriage works? If this is the case, let me tell you that a woman is not supposed to keep secrets from her husband.

You didn’t reply immediately. You knew that trying to use your tongue without calming yourself down would mean a problem, so you started working on this: taking a deep breath, you forced your hands to move again, this time more gently, your fingers tracing slow paths through his pale skin, as if taking care to not hurt it, even though it was impossible for you to do it. It was now less like a massage and more like a caress.

– And I suppose that this rule works for her husband as well – you started – Or are things different when a god is involved?

That time, Poseidon turned around to look inside your eyes instead of limiting himself to a glance. Fortunately for you, there wasn’t the slightest sign of irritation in them.

– I have been living for too long, girl. So much more than your human mind can conceive. Even if I tried to unveil my secrets to you, I would have to stop in the beginning, for you would never have the time nor the strength to stand them – a shadow of smile appeared on his lips – And with this I guess you already have your answer.

He still had his hand on your cheek; thinking you wouldn’t have anything more to say, he moved it away and turned his back on you again, to which you understood you had to continue your task. You did it, but that time you somehow started to experiment with it, extending your touch to his ears; you used your thumbs to massage behind them, then softly squeezed his lobes between your fingers, going through their length until you reached their pointy upper side. This provoking a surprising reaction from him: his body relaxed, and from the depths of his throat came a low, guttural sound that prolonged itself as you continued your caresses, ceasing when you moved your hands away from his ears and back to his neck and shoulders.

You frowned.

Did he just... purr?

– Are you trying to seduce me, dragonet? – he whispered – Who gave you such idea?

– I’m not trying anything in this sense, my Lord.

– Hm... You are trying to calm me down, then – he inclined his body backwards, as to make it easy for you to touch him – You want to tell me something, but felt the need to prepare my ears first, isn’t it?

Since he was giving you the chance, you decided to take it.

– I want to ask something, if possible.

– And what is it?

You took a moment before replying. That wasn’t an easy question, neither was its answer – that is, any of the answers you could give it.

And they were many.

Why did you do that to Suriah, and Melian and the others? Why did you do this to me? And Doonah? Why are you so obsessed with having all of us around you? And why the hell you need so many children who won’t live as much as yourself? Do you think it’s funny? What do you take us for? What do you know about justice, or love? Do you even care?

What you asked him, however, was much simpler.

– Poseidon-sama… Why did you marry me?

Silence. You didn’t get an immediate, verbal answer from him, but you sensed the change around you: the warmth of the air was no longer enough to bring you comfort; your hands felt a deep, growing tension in his muscles, and even his breath was inaudible now.

But I just started it, and I need this answer. I can’t stop now.

You forced your hands to keep moving.

– You said it was for your own sake, my Lord… – you continued – And that I would never stand your secrets... But if I am part of this… Then it’s not supposed to be a secret.

Strangely, saying those words put you in a state of peace that you’ve never expected to experience, though you could just be silenced regardless of your honesty and the validity of your inquiring. It calmed your heart and gave you the courage to face whatever your husband was preparing as a response.

And this is what he had for you.

– From time to time, I use to extend my vision to the outsides of my kingdom, to be aware of the changes in the other worlds, and to figure out some things that would escape my messengers’ understanding – you still had your hands upon his shoulders; you sensed a slight movement on them as the story followed – Though my apparitions in Midgard became a rarity, I still include it in my examinations, for you are not like the other folks: you cannot stay for too long without supervision.

You didn’t know if you should be flattered or offended by this: having your kind separated from others by a god’s vision was something unique, but the reasons for this might destroy one’s fantasies about it. On the other hand, you had to admit that humans weren’t the most reliable creatures, and given how they’ve treated the oceans all over their existence, it’d be hard to expect a different attitude from the god who ruled over them.

– It was during an ordinary day of observations that my thoughts stopped at your homeland and discovered the women of your time, and among all of them they fixated themselves in you – he explained – Once it happened, I decided I needed to bring you to my domains. And here you have your answer.

More silence. You waited to see what would happen next, but Poseidon didn’t say anything more than this. You bit your lip.

He desired and took me, and that’s all? He really thinks I’m a fool.

You moved your hands away from his body, laying them on your lap. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by him, but no reaction came from his part.

Your voice was heard, almost a whisper.

– Is this everything?

You closed your mouth and instantly felt like you provoked the sea, for it came to swallow you in the shape of a man who refused to believe you had the nerve to say those words.

The bathtub’s water became choppy and spread with a growing roar when he turned to you, rising out of the tank and soaking your legs and the hem of your dress. At the same time, he leaned his hands on the marble, but kept himself on the tub, in a way that reminded you of a mermaid luring a sailor to death. The fact that you had the Lord of all mermaids in this position, and that, unlike a sailor, you had no experience in the sea, only made things more terrifying.

– Yes, this is everything you need to know, little dragonet – he leaned closer to you as he spoke; his voice was sweet, but his words were pure ice; you glanced down and noticed his right hand moving from the marble and reaching for your thigh – I saw you there, desired you and took you for myself, and I did not need any more reasons for this. There is no secret in it, and I am not sorry for disappointing you in this sense. If humans are always seeking for mysteries where there is none, I am not the one to blame.

You opened your mouth, but closed it again: no words would serve as response for what you just heard. And, well, in reality, nothing passed your lips because your mind stopped working, and your body started acting by itself.

And that’s why you never saw how exactly you did that and why, later, you would find yourself unable to recall it: in one moment, you felt a bubbling inside your stomach, and your entire body started trembling; in the next, all of this stopped, and you saw your left hand raising and moving forward. After this, you only remembered a persistent burning on your palm and your cheeks soaked in tears.

When you raised your eyes to your husband, through your blurry sight you noticed him touching his own face in incredulity, and you swore there was a reddish mark on it. You covered your mouth with your hands.

Is this what I think t is? Did I just… slap him?

Whatever the explanation your mind could give you for the scene, as soon as you saw Poseidon’s hand moving away from his cheek and his glare turning to you, you knew it wouldn’t matter. Yes, no sign of the dark shade appeared in his eyes when you looked into them, but you wouldn’t stay there and wait to see what he would do after experiencing what was probably the worst example of the human audacity in centuries.

You were still kneeling on the floor; you tried to force your body to stand up and move away… but soon you realized you were unable to do it: the water, mixed with soap and lotions, eliminated the friction between your body and the floor, so when you turned to leave, you just manged to slip and fall on your stomach before you could go too far. At the same time, a strong hand made you turn on your back, closing around your leg, and you were pulled back to the bathtub’s edge.

You saw yourself laying on the floor, your dress clinging on your back, your hair floating on the water around your head. Besides, your feet were now passing over the tub’s edge, so that you would never find balance to move and leave your spot. And you had no time to think of anything else, because Poseidon was now leaving the tub and putting himself over you. The air escaped your lungs, and you shut your eyes tight, just waiting for death…

However, it didn’t come.

A hot breath touched your neck, and the voice of your husband reached your ear in a harsh whisper.

– Still, regarding the entire time you stood with me yesterday… – his lips brushed your lobe – You seemed far from disappointed.

You gasped. Your face burned with shame, because deep inside you knew he was right: when you met him, you were impressed, and when he showed himself to you, you admired, desired and accepted him as a man – and you ended up exhausted, but satisfied. That was how you remembered things; that was your truth. And something like this could never stay hidden from the sharp eyes of the god you had before you.

But the hardest part was that Poseidon wouldn’t miss the chance to have fun with it.

– But if you really want one more reason, here you have it – he chuckled; you felt his hand playing with the soaked hem of your dress, lifting it and exposing your thighs – You are a really entertaining creature, human... Keeping you is worthy...

Worthy?

Something stirred inside you at the sound of that word. You gathered courage and opened your eyes, only to find your husband staring back at your embarrassed traits. You looked into them, hoping to find something that explained the use of that word, but Poseidon was clearly better than you in keeping secrets, so the only thing you saw there was desire.

The same desire I perceived when he approached me for the first time.

– Why the surprise, dragonet? – he brought his hand to your face, and his fingers traced a line through your cheek, descending until they found your neck and closed themselves around it – Don’t you find it strange that I still did not eliminate you after everything you have done? That I did not cut off your hand after what you just did? Or did not burn your tongue for the things you said at the dinning room?

You didn’t reply. Still holding your neck, he brought his lips closer to yours.

– I like to keep what is mine intact – he gave you a brief kiss on your mouth – There is no use in breaking you... Especially when I just discovered this strength in your little hands…

It wasn’t hard to guess what was going to happen now.

With his thumb, he separated your lips, and his tongue he found its way into your mouth. It wasn’t too long until he extended his passionate gestures to your chin, your cheeks, your neck and collar, and for his hands to find a chance to free you from your soaking dress. You weren’t left without reaction, though: joining the kiss with a similar enthusiasm, you started to use your hands in him as well, caressing the spot you just slapped, touching the golden strands of his hair falling around his face, and even reaching for his ears, just to see his body’s response during love making.

And it was as intense as you could expect: he didn’t wait a single second to take you to him, tightening you in his arms, pressing your body under his, against the floor.

It’s like watching the sea falling over me.

In the middle of this, your regained your voice. And, as expected, to gather one more reason that would make your husband punish you if he had no regard for your integrity.

– There’s no use in breaking me, my Lord… but you rejoyce in breaking my spirit, right?

You closed your eyes, and the last thing you remembered was his voice making you a question that might have come from his mouth or your own mind.

– Is your spirit this easy to break?

Chapter 9

#snv poseidon #ror poseidon #poseidon x reader #snv poseidon x reader #ror poseidon x reader #snv x reader #ror x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie poseidon #record of ragarok poseidon #shuumatsu no valkyrie poseidon x reader #record of ragnarok poseidon x reader #poseidon snv #poseidon ror

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milkymoon2483 · 2 years

Text

Tension | episode 3 - Occupational hazard

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Francisco Morales x female reader

WC: ~6300

Summary: Frankie doesn’t call or text, until he has a back issue again that is. You're a little mad, and he finds a way to apologize.

Disclaimer: Same as the last time basically; I’m not a massage therapist. The thoughts and actions described in this one are, as the title says, unprofessional. I do not mean to sexualize the job massage therapists do. I only mean to oil Frankie up in order to eventually serve you all with some deep-fried filthy smut, like you deserve. *There are edible massage oils. Google says so. *Assume they had the whole ‘are you clean? Are you on the pill?’ convo off-screen.

Rating: E. MINORS DNI. 18+

Warnings: SMUT with all capitals. This is porn ma'am. Unprotected P in V, Oral (F receiving), fingering, and a bunch of other goodies.

Occupational hazard

Text her pendejo, just pick up your fucking phone and text. You’ve been thinking about it non-stop. Just be done with it. What’s the worst that can happen? She thinks you're a creep and she will politely ignore you or tell you to find someone else. Just stop torturing yourself and text the girl.

Frankie repeated the conversation he has been having with himself a few times a day for the past week. A sharp pang hit his gut every time you crossed his mind, he began feeling almost guilty, but then again, maybe you weren’t expecting him to text at all. The bouts of self doubt came and went, where he’d be feeling confident and sure of himself one day, he would somehow manage to convince himself that he had no basis for that feeling the very next.

Why would a sweet, funny, pretty girl like you would actually want him? What business did you have getting involved with someone this damaged? He didn’t want to seem like an over- eager old creep. The thought paralyzed him, made him disregard any notion of you reciprocating his feelings.

When Joel called asking to borrow Frankie’s truck to move his notoriously heavy couch, he found himself insisting on helping him with the move. The nine foot brown leather monstrosity was being shipped off to the junkyard, to the great delight of Joel’s wife, Melissa. She was ecstatic at the thought of finally replacing it, after thirteen years.

The words left his mouth before he had a chance to regret them. “Joel stop being an ass and let me help you, your back is fucked up and Mel will kill you if you try to do it by yourself”

Frankie was making a good enough point for Joel to reluctantly agree, with the promise of feeding him some lunch when they were done. Melissa was more than happy to cook for whomever got “Jabba the couch” out of her house.

The drizzle intensified as Frankie was driving, he hated the rain with a passion and it filled him with a sense of unease, like it was somehow attacking him personally. He knew however that this had to be done, and it had to be done today, since the new couch was arriving later that afternoon.

Suddenly the thought of you crossed his mind, the inviting treatment room, dimly-lit and smelling of fresh laundry and essential oils. Your warm deft hands on him, the sweetness of your voice and your smile. It filled him with comforting warmth, maybe texting you wasn’t such a far fetched idea after all. He didn’t let his mind wander further to the swell of your ass and the way that your top seemed to cling to your perfect breasts, otherwise he would be arriving at Joel's with a raging boner.

45 minutes after they started, the men were finally able to get the couch out of the front door. Both were already panting and sweaty and they still had a long way to go. Thankfully the rain subsided and they were able to load it onto the truck faster than anticipated.

“So… how do you like your new massage therapist?” Joel asked with a knowing smile.

“She’s, yeah…she’s great, really helped me” Frankie replied, hanging onto some last modicum of discretion.

“She did now, didn’t she?” Joel cocked his eyebrows.

“Fuck off man, she gave me a massage. Yeah it was really good” Frankie scoffed. He’d say you’re also funny and charming and hot. But he already saw the shit eating grin spread on Joel’s face.

When the truck backed into the junk yard Frankie already noticed the dire state of the muddy ground, that was sure to make their job harder.

The rain picked up again, soaking into their clothes as they attempted to unload the brown behemoth. They pushed it slowly out of the back of the truck, attempting to support its weight as much as possible. The couch was hanging by a thread, half of it still on the truck and the other half held by both men. That was when Joel’s boot slipped. He laid his weight on the couch in an attempt to brace himself, causing it to topple over the edge. Frankie’s instinct to try and stop it from falling over was clearly misguided as he felt a muscle in his back pull, before he leaped backwards, landing flat on his ass in the mud.

The hysterical laughter that ensued was inevitable, and ensured Frankie and Joel that they both were fine.

An hour and a half after they departed both men strolled into Melissa’s aptly named mud-room, soaking and filthy. Frankie can sure pull this look off. She thought to herself as she took their sight in, immediately bursting into laughter herself.

“My heroes! Looks like Jabba put up a fight. Let’s get you cleaned and fed” she chimed.

*******

Another day passed without any messages from Frankie, you were past feeling disappointed, veering into the indifferent zone. You were still mad at yourself though, waiting for him to throw you a bone like some kind of hookup that never bothered texting after the fact. How pathetic.

You understood that there were some things that were not supposed to come into fruition. You didn’t really know him, there could have been a thousand different reasons for him not to reach out. The sting of unfulfilled potential was bound to wear off eventually.

You were sprawled on the couch after a particularly long day, watching Brooklyn nine-nine for the umpteenth time, still in your work clothes, minus the bra.

The soft *ping* of your phone went unnoticed.

It was three AM when you woke up, delirious and confused, you were greeted with the “are you still watching?” Netflix message. It took a while to register exactly where you are and how you fell asleep. You threw yourself on the bed, vowing to shower in the morning, when your hand landed on your phone that laid discarded on your comforter.

You picked it up to check the time, but your eyes went straight to the notification instead. You blinked twice just to make sure you were not imagining this.

Hey there. How are you?I wanted to ask if you have any appointments available soon, I think I pulled a muscle.ThanksFrancisco.

Really??!

“Hi there”..?! “I pulled a muscle”?!You repeated his message out loud with the most mocking tone you could muster.

You put your phone down, realizing quickly that a three AM response would probably be ill-advised. You could fume about this for a few hours and respond when you were calmer, and in a more reasonable hour.

I’m ok, thank you. Thursday 18:00.

It took you four hours to come up with this.

You hit the send button and quickly tossed your phone aside, with every intention of ignoring it for at least four hours more.

********

Great, see you then.

He replied back nervously. Is she pissed?

Frankie was talented and accomplished in many fields, texting however, wasn't his forte. He debated whether or not to ask anyone about this, opting to share with Melissa.

After a brief retelling of what happened between you, she concluded with confidence;

"Oh, she's definitely pissed."

"But Mel, What the hell did I do?" He was confused. He had a general feeling, that maybe the flirtation was a bit too much and it creeped you out, maybe you were only treating him because he's friends with Joel, and that you want to keep it professional moving forward.

Melissa however had an entirely different explanation.

"Francisco, sweetie, that's not it. It's what you didn't do. God how do you men even function, when every non-technical detail needs to be explained to you?!"

"Huh?" Was his only response.

"You have a degree in aviation and can do advanced math in your head, but this is beyond your comprehension?"

The face she made was truly bewildered.

"You flirted her face off, gave her a kiss on the cheek, made it purposefully 'hot' as you admitted yourself, and then, you did nothing. Not a call or a text. Just silence"

"Oh" it seemed so painfully obvious when she explained it that way.

"And then, after more than a week passed, you asked to schedule what is essentially a work appointment for her"

"Oh..fuck" Frankie pinched the bridge of his nose, scrunching his face in embarrassment.

"Yeah, fuck indeed, no wonder she's pissed. Shit men are dumb."

Frankie nodded. Yeah we are.

*******

17:23 the clock glowed. Your five pm canceled, causing the time to crawl even slower, each second stretched like a piece of old gum, now that you had nothing better to do than sit and wait for him.

You plucked your eyebrows and picked at your nails and even watered your lone plant, the one that managed to survive. You named it Harry, the fern who lived.

17:34 You proceeded to eat a banana, then a cookie, then brushed your teeth because said cookie left a strange taste in your mouth. A part of you wished he'd cancel too. The affect of him has worn off, but you knew that the moment he walks in it will undoubtedly return with a vengeance, punching you harder, hitting you faster.

17:48 You checked yourself in the mirror, for the eleventh time. You were mad, but you were not about to let him catch you looking like crap. Push up bra was back on. And perhaps a tiny bit of tinted lip balm, and maybe some strategically placed perfume.

17:57 *Ding Dong*

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of the doorbell. You stopped yourself for a moment, closing your eyes and repeating your mantra. He’s just a client.

The motherfucker was wearing a sweater. How dare he.

The thin-knit forest green material hugged him perfectly, extenuating the broadness of his shoulders and the soft definition of his pecks. The white t-shirt peeking from the collar was the final straw, pulling your eyes onto his long neck, bringing out the sun-kissed hue of his skin.

“Hey” He smiled softly, turning his eyes to the floor as he walked in.

“Hi” you replied simply, dryly. Stretching a polite fake smile on your face, trying to ignore how goddamn infuriatingly good he looked. Sweaters were your personal kryptonite.

He’s just a client.

The air was tense when you walked into the treatment room. Frankie’s gut was in knots as you kept quiet, not letting any pleasantries slip past your lips. He understood now that the ball was in his court, Mel made that perfectly clear.

“Can we talk for a moment?” He asked hesitantly.

”Is it treatment-related?” you replied, as calmly as possible.

“Well..I don’t think it is” He took a deep breath before he continued.

“See, I meant to text you but I didn’t want you to think..”

“Frankie, I think it’s best if we talk after.” You stopped him mid sentence. You assumed you knew what this was about, but letting him stew for a bit seemed like a good idea. Maybe your hands on him would help jog his memory as to why he needed to apologize in the first place.

Truth be told, you were afraid that no matter what he said you would not be able to continue after that, so you asked him to wait, not to change anything between the two of you just yet.

“Yeah, we can do that” he replied. Unsure of himself.

“Now, can you tell me which muscle you think you pulled?” This was your attempt to pull on the “therapist” mask, to resume your role as the clinical professional.

“It’s right around here” he pointed to his mid-lower back. You assumed it’s around the T12 vertebrae.

“What happened?” You asked, genuinely curious as to the reason he finally contacted you.

“I helped Joel move a couch to the junkyard and landed on my ass in the mud”

“Ouch” You chuckled at his response. Serves you right.It was damn near impossible to stay mad at him.

Your hands slipped under his sweater as you prodded him through the soft cotton of his tee. It felt so intimate, so incredibly personal, even more than when your oiled palms glided all over his skin. He could feel the ghost of your breath at the back of his neck as you leaned a little closer and it made his skin prickle, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand.

You could smell him, inhaling deeply the soft clean scent of his soap. You bit your tongue, fighting the urge to wrap your arms around him, to cling to his warmth. This was going to be more difficult than you thought.

As he was getting ready, you stared at the door of the treatment room. You couldn't help but imagine him pulling off his sweater and tee with one swift motion, revealing his bare chest, the muscles of his back rippling under his skin, the long arms pulling the fabric, the way his hair would bounce. Every single detail you could think of seemed to spur you on, causing the heat to pull between your thighs.

He’s just a client.

Gone was the indulgent want for you to touch him, it was replaced with a desperate need. A low huff left his lips as soon as your hands were on him. Finally However he might have wronged you, your touch felt like forgiveness, a soothing balm on his nerves.

Why did he wait so fucking long? What the hell was stopping him? Was it wrong for him to want this for himself? Was he truly so far beyond redemption that he didn’t even deserve this? The thoughts that swirled in his mind began to quiet one by one, brushed off by the slide of your hands, melted by the drizzle of hot oil.

“I’m going to warm you up before we take care of that knot” you stated, granting him another delicious slide up his back. You relished every centimeter of skin at your fingertips.

“Mhmmm” he purred back. God I missed that sound.

He shuddered with excitement as he felt the bed dip beneath you. You climbed on and settled on his left. You began pressing into his muscle but the angle wasn’t right, you needed to change the position.

The gentle tap on his thigh encouraged him to spread his legs as you rolled the sheet back off his left leg. He was confused but followed along, he would comply with anything you’d ask of him. He swallowed thickly as he felt your knee between his thighs.

Now your thumbs rolled into his aching muscle again and again, the knot was easy to find and each swipe of your hands hit it accurately. You could see his face contorted with pain, and you knew it would hurt, he tensed up and grunted as the pads of your fingers dug deeper into him, unwavering ,circling the painful spot over and over again.

“I know it’s painful” you said quietly, attempting to assure him that it will not be long now.

“No good deed goes unpunished” he replied with a slight chuckle that made you smile.

The truth was, he was thankful for the pain, the only thing distracting him from the heavenly heat emanating from your core. He could feel it on his leg and it took everything in his power not to imagine you riding his thigh. The heat crept up his groin slowly, clawing towards his cock, unstoppable and unrelenting. He was afraid that a moment would arrive when the pain was not enough.

If he only knew.. if he had any idea… You counted his vertebrae and listed the latin names of his back muscles one by one. Trapezius, Deltoid, Teres Major, Latissimus Dorsi…Desperate attempts to think about anything other than the warmth radiating off him, the graze of his thigh against yours.

The knot was almost gone now and you slid the heels of your palms on both sides of his spine one last time.

"Ow!" he yelped. “I think…when you slide your hands like that, I think some pain is radiating..lower?” He didn’t quite know how to explain the sharp pang in his right butt cheek.

“That’s quite possible actually, that you have some other knot we missed and it can definitely radiate onto your glutes. Can I check?”

“Is that your professional way to ask me for permission to touch my butt?”

“Guilty as charged. It also happens to be the largest muscle in the body… so I have a perfectly good excuse”

“Well, I’m at your mercy, as usual” He turned his head backwards as much as possible and smiled his soft signature smile, banishing any traces of anger or annoyance you might have been holding on to.

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.” You smiled back now. His heart felt lighter at the sound of your voice.

“I’ll repeat the motion and you tell me exactly where you feel the pain”

You slid your hands again and watched his face scrunch up. He pointed his hand on his right buttock.

“I’m going to have to tuck those a bit higher” you pulled at his boxers gently.

“Mhm” he nodded and swallowed thickly. This might be a problem. Shit.

Gently but efficiently you rolled his boxers up, exposing a soft little butt cheek. Tiny pale stretch marks ran across its side. You tried not to stare, but looking at it was a part of the job.

Such a sweet little ass. Was all you could think of as you ran oiled up fingers up his thigh and onto the tight muscle.

Frankie took deeper breaths now. Doing everything in his power not to clench at your touch.

For a moment he felt a relief as you now focused on his butt cheek and dug your fingers deeper into the painful spot, but then you added oil onto your hands. And then you began sliding down his hip in a smooth inward motion. Tips of your fingers brushing so closely to his inner thigh. Again. And again. And again. Blood rushed towards his cock with every swipe. So close, your hand was so fucking close.

Shit. SHIT. No no no…shit please not now. He knew this could happen, at some point it was bound to happen, but this was really fucking bad timing.

He was gone now, no force in nature could stop the tightening in his abdomen and the painful hardness of his cock, which was now pressed fully into the mattress.

It twitched with every swipe of your hands, as the tension in his lower stomach grew, as he attempted to fight the consuming urge to rut his erection against the bed and find some relief. Waves of shame and arousal crashed into him one after the other, as his mind desperately scrambled for a way to explain or excuse himself.

You progressed down Frankie’s leg, and you felt him tense up, his breaths shorter and quicker. You could say you were oblivious to the situation, but something inside you knew, or at least suspected, that he might be having that kind of a reaction. Because something inside you knew that your touch was too purposeful to begin with. You couldn’t say which little demon encouraged your fingers to softly brush against the most sensitive parts they could reach, but the mere thought of him growing harder from your touch made you feral.

What felt like history’s longest fucking foreplay, had you both on the very last edge.

“Turn around please” You used the calmest tone you could pull from your mouth.

Too distracted by the dirtiest thoughts on one hand, and the attempts to calm himself down on the other, Frankie was startled by your request.

FUCK.

“ummm…I…ummmm…” He did not know how to approach this.

“Is everything ok?” You asked, noticing his apprehension.

“Yeah I’m fine, it’s just..umm..fuck” Frankie leaned on his forearms and gave you the most apologetic look, before glancing downwards, pointing to the source of the issue as discreetly as possible.

“Oh..” the message sank in as you gave him an understanding nod.

“Yeah… I’m sorry” That’s it, she’s gonna kick me out, fuck.

“Frankie, it’s ok, really, it’s totally fine, it’s natural, nothing to apologize for” You attempted to reassure him.

“I just, I really don’t want you to think that I’m a creep. You’re just so good..your hands are so amazing..I really didn’t mean for this to happen, do you…do you want me to go? I can go..” He rambled as his face turned bright red.

“I don’t want you to go, and I don’t think you're a creep Frankie. Quite the opposite. I thought that was obvious” Guess we are doing this now. Oh well.

“Really…What’s the opposite of creep?” He smirked, amused all of a sudden.

“Well…tall, sexy, and a little smug, apparently.” Your heart pounded in your throat as you smirked right back at him.

He chuckled, too pleased with your response to have a quick comeback.

“Turn around Frankie.” Your voice was calmer, more commanding now. “Ok” Frankie swallowed thickly and turned to lay on his back, still leaning on his forearms. The sheet covering him pulled to the side, revealing the unmistakable tent in his boxers.

You tore your eyes away after only a split second, but it was just enough time to see it. Well happy birthday and Merry Christmas to me. The sheer size of him was blatantly visible even through the thin dark material.

Looking in his eyes was far more challenging, you moved closer to him as he pulled himself up to sit on the bed and face you. You felt your blood drain from your face, pulled towards your stomach, laced with equal parts anxiety and arousal.

You stood closer now, almost between his legs, and you laid a careful hand on his chest.

“Do you..do you want to stop?” you asked, averting your eyes from his.

“Fuck no.” he responded, smiling softly “Thought that was obvious”

You smiled back, lifting your eyes at him, meeting his warm gaze.

Keeping his eyes on you, he took both of your hands in his, laying soft gentle kisses on your palms, brushing your fingers against his lips, reverently worshiping the hands that brought him so much pleasure and relief. You could not look away now, as he laid a tender kiss on each knuckle. It was the hottest, most sensual thing you have ever witnessed. His kisses flowed gently up your arm, pulling you closer towards him, until your faces were inches apart. You took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, as he cradled your face in his large palm.

"C'mere" he whispered, leaning in and finally pressing his mouth to yours. His lips were so soft, warm, pliant and sweet. You allowed him to deepen the kiss, swiping his warm tongue into your mouth. His kiss was deep but unhurried, allowing him to taste you properly. Frankie saw no need to rush this, he wanted to enjoy every second and every inch of your body.

You carded your fingers through the soft waves on the nape of his neck and pulled even closer, flushed against his bare chest.

His arms brushed your sides, fingers reaching under the soft fabric of your tee, hot against your skin, asking for permission. You nodded, not breaking the kiss, as he slowly rolled it up and pulled it off.

Large arms engulfed you fully, pressing you against him, running along your back, to the swell of your ass, and back up towards your neck, like he could not touch you enough.

Frankie pulled the bra straps off your shoulders one by one, relishing the opportunity to undress you slowly, leisurely. He unclasped the back with one deft hand.

“Impressive” you teased

“Beginners luck” he chuckled back, resuming the open mouthed kisses on your neck, cupping your right breast in his hand, enjoying the softness, the weight of it.

When you climbed on the bed, he laid you on your back. You weren't used to this position, could not remember an instance when you were the one laying down.

“Are we really…doing this? I mean, is this ok with you?” Laying on top of you might have not been the best timing for the question, but he needed to make sure.

“Eh…it’s an occupational hazard” You shrugged, before bursting into a giggle.

"What is?" His brows furrowed for a moment, and he looked too adorable not to kiss.

"That thing you've got there…" you cocked your brows, lowering your gaze.

"I'll take that as a compliment" he chuckled. He'd take his cock over a six pack any day.

"You should"

"I will"

"Good"

“Yes, Frankie, this is very ok with me” you said softly, tucking loose waves away from his forehead before pulling his mouth back to yours.

Frankies lips traveled down, he took one pebbled nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around , a perfect mixture of hot and cold, soft and hard.

"This is so fucking ok with me” you mumbled, grinding your clothed pussy on his thigh. You could feel him painfully hard, pressed against you, as you cupped him through his boxers. It felt even bigger than before, and the thought of him opening you up and stretching you out sent a sweet wave of anticipation straight to your core.

"I wanna take care of you, please?" He asked softly.

"Please", you said, practically begging him to touch you.

"Can I…use the oil?" he whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps along your side, pressing soft kisses to your neck and down the slope of your shoulder.

"Sure…it's almond oil” you nodded, pleased beyond belief that this man took all of 5 minutes to figure you out.

It was so intimate, perhaps too intimate, but you trusted Frankie, something about him put you at ease. You knew his body and now it seemed fitting for him to get to know yours in the same way.

He lifted himself up, caging your legs between his knees and gently pulled on the elastic of your pants, as you lifted your pelvis to allow him to slide them down your legs. He reached for the oil on the stand next to the bed. The hot liquid pooled in his hands and he rubbed them together. He laid his large warm palms on your thighs, sliding them downwards, rubbing the soft flesh and spreading the oil, then moving back upwards from your knees to your hips. Frankie was mesmerized by the glow of the slick on your skin. He repeated the motion, more confident now, earning himself a sweet purr from your lips.

“Does that feel good?” he asked hesitantly, requiring a little more encouragement.

“mhm…Yes…” You answered, breathless.

His hands slid back up, tips of his fingers reaching under the hem of your panties, as you flooded with arousal and anticipation. He repeated the motion again, this time brushing his thumbs closer to your inner thighs. A soft little moan left your lips, making him smirk. He continued sliding his hands down and back up, getting closer and closer to your core. Your thighs clenched together and hips bucked slightly, begging for his touch where you needed him most. But Frankie was enjoying himself far too much, at last he was the one doing the teasing and you were the one writhing at his touch.

He ran a careful thumb on your clothed pussy, testing the waters. He kept his eyes on your face, making sure you were comfortable. The slacked jaw, heavy panting and white knuckles from grabbing at the sheet beneath you told him everything he needed to know.

He kept circling your clit above your panties, watching them get progressively more and more soaked. “This is where you want me?..hmmm?” he teased while his fingers ran along your slit, making you impossibly wetter and needier.

“Fuck, Frankie!” you whined.

He chuckled at your impatience.

His hands ran up your inner thighs again, taunting you with every inch of progress towards your throbbing cunt, he brushed the tips of his fingers under the band of your panties “Can I take these off?”

You lifted your hips and allowed him to slide the soaked fabric down your legs.

You laid exposed before him. "Fuck your'e beautiful" he whispered.

He added more oil, before sliding his palms from your breasts, down your belly and onto your thighs again. His hands traveled back up, unable to stop himself from relishing in the addictively soft texture of your body at his fingertips. He spread the oil further, circling your nipples, then brushing along your ribs, down the dip of your belly button, and back up to your clavicles. He marveled at your smooth skin, shiny and golden under the dim lights.

"Spread your legs for me baby” he rasped, you obliged immediately

“Good girl"

With the gentlest touch, he ran two thumbs on the sensitive lips of your cunt, spreading your glistening folds. You whimpered, clenching around nothing.

He oiled his hands again, letting it drip from the tips of his fingers onto your pussy. You shuddered at the sensation of each drop. He gently spread the oil between your folds, mixing it with your arousal. His index prodded your entrance before sliding inside, slowly pumping in and out of your tight wet heat.

Mesmerized, Frankie lowered himself to lay between your legs, and licked a thick stripe up your slit. "Pretty pretty pussy" he murmured, circling your clit with his tongue, then dipping it into your hole, drinking you up.

You couldn't tell exactly what Frankie was doing, but the limited amount of times men have gone down on you, it never felt like this, not even close. Arousal and heat bloomed between your thighs, spreading along your belly, crawling up your limbs and down the tips of your toes. He seemed to be speaking directly to your core, whispering soft nothings, making the filthiest promises and coaxing out every ounce of pleasure.

Your hands laced into his hair, fingers gently tugging at the roots while he ate you out like you were his last meal. There was a generosity to his movements, like he could happily spend a day between your legs. Your hips bucked at him, asking for more. "You need another finger baby? To get you ready to take my cock?" All you could do is moan louder. The filth this man spoke so freely drove you insane.

Frankie added his middle finger, sliding it in with ease as you were dripping on his knuckles. The coil in your belly tightened, with each swipe of his tongue on your clit, Frankie could feel you drawing close. He purred, alternating between licking and sucking gently at the perfect spot just under your clit, pushing you over the edge of a cliff into a pool of pleasure. Your body convulsed as you squeezed him tightly between your thighs, he could feel the flutter of your walls on his fingers, and the wave of slick that poured out of you into his awaiting mouth. "Yes baby, yes, give it to me, taste so fucking good" he muttred, drinking everything you could give him.

After you came down from your high Frankie kissed his way up to your lips, the lust drunk look in your eyes told him what you could not.

“Wow” when you finally spoke, that was all you could manage.

“Are you ok? Do you wanna stop?” He asked, softly brushing away loose strands that stuck to your forehead.

You tsked, shaking your head slowly, and proceeded to whisper in his ear “I want you to fuck me Frankie" peppering kisses on his earlobe and behind his ear. Goosebumps erupted across his skin and ran down his back. His cock twitched at the sensation.

“Fuck baby, your’e gonna kill me”

"Since you've already killed me, it only seems fair"

"Well, how can I argue with a pretty girl asking to be fucked so sweetly?

"You better don't"

"Wouldn't dream of it"

You pulled him closer again, kissing him lazily through your post orgasm haze, sneaking a curious finger through the hemline of his boxers. Frankie's breath hitched as he felt you swipe his sensitive tip, leaking with precum and screaming for relief. You tugged on the band, encouraging him to take the fabric off.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock. Heavy and thick and perfectly veiny. It was your turn to reach for the oil, bringing your loaded palm to his throbbing length. You stroked lazily at first, as Frankie mumbled curses and prayers, not taking his eyes off your hand wrapped around him, spreading the warm oil all over his shaft, gently running your thumb on the tip. The smooth delicious glide of your oiled hand felt better than he could imagine, drawing him impossibly closer to his release with every stroke.

"Fuck..as much as I thought about this, if you dont stop, I'm gonna cum"

"Really? You thought about this..?"

"Mhm…I also thought about other things"

"Such as?" You asked teasingly, pulling him to lay in between your legs.

"Such as this.." he rasped, notching himself at your entrance.

You canted your hips at the sensation. He sank into your heat with a groan, slowly pushing himself to the hilt. The delicious stretch made your walls flutter. "shit Frankie, move, please" you begged, whimpering with need.

Your legs locked on his back as he began to slowly buck his hips, gently opening you up on his girth. For all his mass and strength he was surprisingly gentle. He kissed the column of your neck, nibbling at your chin, before your mouths latched onto each other, breathing each other's air. Frankie’s pace picked up slightly. “Uh…uh…fuck!” you moaned with each thrust, the coil in your belly tightening. You could hear the obscene squelch of your slick each time he pounded into you. Frankie lifted himself up slightly, eyes entranced and black with lust as he watched his glistening cock slide in between your puffy folds, spurring him to go harder and deeper still.

He hooked his arm around your waist, pulling you up with surprising ease. You straddled his hips, leaning back on one arm to balance yourself, gripping into his shoulder with the other.

He began fucking into you faster, and your hips moved to meet his with every stroke, the angle making his length hit impossibly deep within you. Your bodies moved in sync, shiny with sweat and oil. "Good girl, use my cock, take what you need" He muttered as he felt you approaching your release. You climbed higher and higher, your cunt gripping onto his cock like a vice, until one final stroke pushed you off, made you soar. Pleasure searing through every cell, pouring into every crevice, exploding in thousands of tiny bursts.

Frankie felt your release pulsating on his cock, he fucked into you as deep as he could, gripping your hips with bruising strength, roaring as he flooded your core with ropes of his hot spend.

Frankie collapsed on top of you with a groan, chest heaving, mind blown. Both of you too fucked out and spent to speak, breathing heavily in a synchronized pace.

He nuzzled into your cheek, kissing across your face, until he reached your nose and placed a peck on the tip, before reaching your lips again.

You exchanged lazy kisses, nibbling and licking into each other’s mouths, slowly coming down from your respective highs.

“Holy fuck” you rasped

“Yeah, holy fuck indeed” Frankie replied with a coarse voice.

“No, I mean, holy fuck this bed is sturdy. I never tested it like that before” You teased. “Also, you blew my brains out, can I make you some tea as a show of my appreciation?”

“Only if you give me one of your sex mugs to drink it from” Frankie chuckled back.

“Sure, I’ll even throw in some cookies to sweeten the deal”

*******

You stood in the kitchen, the dim glow of the pendant light above the counter illuminating your bodies, nude and barefoot, still emanating heat from your previous activities. Frankie snuck an arm around your waist as you poured the boiling water into the mug.

It felt strangely familiar, his warmth engulfing your senses, you could get used to this.

You welcomed the gesture, brushing away the notion that it felt too intimate, too good to be true. You’d never let him know, with your quick wit and your casual demeanor, how nervous you truly were, because this was something special.

Just enjoy it, this, him.

As if he sensed your post-coital nervousness, Frankie asked sheepishly. “So..I've been meaning to ask you, before the…um…crazy sex. Can I maybe take you out to dinner?”

“I’ll think about it” You chuckled with relief, setting the freshly made cup of tea in front of him.

Frankie looked at it slightly confused, it had a picture of an Excel spreadsheet with the green logo on it. After a few seconds he began to laugh, “Freak in the sheets” was written in black across the bottom.

“I’ll take it as a compliment” he smiled at you, that sweet soft smile with the creases around his eyes and the dimple you could not resist.

“You should” you giggled back.

“I will”

“Good”

FIN.

Thank you so much, I also tagged anyone who reblogged part#2, hope it’s ok with you. You will not be automatically tagged in future fics unless you ask me to.

@romanarose @hbc8 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @astroboots @welcometostayingawake @damnyoupedro @kirsteng42 @boysddontcry @miraclesabound @jump-over-my-fence @wildemaven

#massage #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie morales/reader #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #smut fic

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hikari3601 · 2 years

Text

Amidst The Snow (Part III)

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Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Pairing | Albedo x Fem!Reader

Authors Note | Not to imply that I have favourite or anything, but this is my favourite part. After the long wait, it has finally arrive. PLEASE LIKE, REBLOG AND SHARE!

Warnings | This is a continuation therefore, I suggest you read the other parts to completely understanding. Explicit descriptions of blood, poisoning, wounds. Brief mentions of infections, delirium and hypothermia.MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH (reader) If the other 2 parts didn’t clarify: THIS GETS DEPRESSING!

Note | Reader is a hydro wielding, polearm user from the Knights of Favonius (it’s for plot purposes) and this was written before the release of Ver 2.3 ‘Shadows Amidst Snowstorms’ and was purely based on what was shown in the trailer -so it’s not entirely canon.

Synopsis | An innocent trip to Dragonspine took a turn for the worse.

Flaming Essential oil; Frostshield potion; Stabilised whopperflower sap; Dried flaming flower head and pyro slime secretions.

There was nothing I had missed, every option, every conclusion and every single concoction I could think of —all twenty-four varied mixtures, of which, only eight would have no side effects after digestion.

I reread the list again, in hopes that I had overlooked something, anything, but I had done it all. Surely there was something I was missing, some factor I hadn’t taken into account; there had to be, why else wouldn’t you have woken up by now?

For a moment I glanced outside, wishing that we could be anywhere else than in such an unforgiving environment.

The storm outside craved blood, slicing through any flicker of warmth -I could only hope that the others had succeeded in defeating that whopperflower and had made it to a shelter in time.

I turned my focus back to you, staring at your dimmed complexion and lax features, again trying to think of another solution for your lack of response.

The cryo had already melted; your hypothermia had eased away -even the blood around your wounds had been cleaned and the wound itself stabilised.

What else was there?

An infection? It was likely, but I had already taken that into account.

Blood loss? That was a given I had already dealt with; but if something had entered your blood like some sort of poison or virus, that would be a completely different story.

I thought back to my encounter with the whopperflower, racking my mind for some sort of solution, and then it hit me.

Blood, but not your own.

The cryo shards that penetrated your flesh had most likely been imbued with Durin’s blood, that was the only possibility I had overlooked, but if that were the case, Archons—

As if in a trance, my limbs moved to your side, raising the fabric around your injuries with an unfamiliar anxiousness.

I felt everything around me slow down to a complete standstill when I saw the inky veinlike markings that seemed to crawl throughout your body, sapping the life away from you whilst feeding into your delusions.

I looked to you again, to find any traces of discomfort or pain -but there were none and I found myself pondering over your innermost desires.

I had studied this concept a few years ago, how some minds race towards any other train of thought rather than focusing on the stressful circumstances overwhelming them in an attempt to defend themselves.

I was doing that, wasn’t I?

Going about every other topic rather than the one at hand because I didn’t want to acknowledge what was already an incontestable fact.

I’ve never dreamed before, but maybe this was what people call ‘nightmares,’ going off of your description of those horrid thoughts, so maybe I’d wake up soon.

I took your hand in mine and closed my eyes, hoping that when I open them again, you would still be beside me —just not like this.

XxxX

Walking into the chaotically organised lab, I set the two mugs of steaming coffee down on a vacant table beside the door and strolled over to the alchemist.

“Wakie-wakie Bedo.” I called, “Time to get ready for work.”

With his head laying on his crossed arms like a pillow, he reminded me of a cat with that messy hair of his.

“Honestly,” I muttered, “How do you not have any back problems?”

“—I do…” He yawned, sitting up from his seat and stretching his back, at the movement I could’ve sworn I heard several bones crack into place.

The recollection of the way he had to stretch his spasming muscles whenever he used his vision vividly flashed in my mind for a moment. “Could have fooled me.”

“You’re not a cat, you know. You can’t just sleep anywhere, especially in your lab, it’s dangerous with all these unstable chemicals and it strains your body.” It was difficult to stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth, nagging him about things I knew he was already aware of and yet I couldn’t help the urge to ensure his comfort and health.

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” He teased, a smile pulling at his mouth at my reprimanding tone.

“Yes, I would.” My agreement was passionate, overly passionate until I realised that he was being sarcastic.

“Oh shush you. It’s far too early for this.” I moved to grab his mug, “Here.”

The aromatic whiff of ground coffee beans seemed to instantly rejuvenate the alchemist. He turned to me with a gaze of appreciation and smiled again, “Thanks, your brew?”

“Only the best.” I grinned, taking a sip of my own as well, and basking in its flavour.

“So when did you get back?” He questioned, referring to my most recent trip to Sumeru. I thought about his query, knowing that I had returned late at night, but vaguely unsure of the time.

“Around past three this morning, I saw your light still on while I was dropping off some documents in the library and figured you were still busy in here.”

“Hmm. How was your trip?”

“Long, but I’ll tell you all about it after the meeting.”

The air in the room stilled.

“Meeting?” He echoed.

“How’d I know you’d forget?” A smile spread itself onto my face and a laugh spilt from my lips. “All department heads are scheduled to meet every Monday morning at exactly eight-thirty in Jean’s office.”

“It’s Monday.” He bluntly stated and turned in his seat to look at the clock.

“We’ve got 15 minutes left before it starts.” Albedo concluded, slumping in his seat —probably at the realisation that he slept in.

“I’m aware,” I chuckled, “We just need to fix that desk hair of yours before we go. It’s all squished to the one side.”

XxxX

“Bedo?”

He felt his body react before his mind could even realise that you had woken up. You called to him again, shifting slightly to see his face and when you caught his eye, he lingered on your every crevice, searching for some sort of confirmation that you were indeed alright now, yet his search was futile.

Albedo attempted to steady his trembling hands and muster up the most comforting smile he could manage -not that you would have noticed, you were far too gone to even fathom your diminishing time.

“When did we get back home?” You queried, scrutinising every stone around you with glazed eyes.

Your body ached for a reason you couldn’t quite place your finger on and despite the restful nap you had just woken from, you still felt exhausted.

Albedo remained silent for what felt like a lifetime before you repeated yourself, unsure of whether he had heard you the first time.

“A few hours ago, you fell asleep while we were taking a quick break so we figured we’d let you sleep in the caravan for the rest of the way down.” The words felt sour on his tongue, he disliked lies and yet he found the words bitterly falling from his lips with a sort of ease that only adrenaline could bring.

You nodded at his words in a daze, stretching and relieving yourself of the last remnants of sleep before turning to your companion with an excitement that would have been contagious had it not been for the glimpses of inklike veins he caught along your skin.

You were getting worse.

“I have a question for you, Albedo. About what we spoke about some time back…with regards to your emotions.” You paused, swallowing the burning sensation in your throat. “Do you still feel the same?”

To say that your question had caught him off guard would be an understatement, shocking the blond into silence as he mulled over your words.

Yes, it was obvious that his overly objective view of his very own emotions had caused him to overlook the fact that his emotions were biased -more so towards you, the source of the many joys in his life.

“If you still feel that way, it’s completely alright, I just wanted to get this off of my chest now that we’re back in Mond.”

It was then when it occurred to him that he hadn’t answered you yet.

“Even if you don’t feel the same, I wanted to express my gratitude to you. Since our first encounter you’ve done nothing but bring joy into my life -making all of my trips easier because I knew that I’d always come back to have a cup of coffee in your lab and somehow make each and every one of our Favonius meetings more bearable with the small looks you sent my way.”

“And Archons, there’s so much more that you’ve done for me that I can’t even begin to put into words, because you’re just that brilliant -and you can forget about what I’m about to say if you desire, but Albedo I harbour feelings so inexplicable towards you that the mere idea of them makes me bubble with energy -and this is coming from an insomniac. I love you so dearly…and even if you don’t reciprocate the feelings, I’ll find a way to live with that, but-“

"They’ve changed.” He rushed, a hand grasping onto yours. “My sentiments have changed.”

He watched as your eyes widened, mouth gaping and closing while he squeezed your hand -a silent affirmation to your rising questions.

You shifted with a newfound energy as your body struggled to contain its newfound joy, “Really?”

With a strained smile, the alchemist nodded his head and waited to hear your next response as your lips parted, but the both of you were stunned into silence after violent coughs racked your body, leaving you gasping for air once they had eased.

When calmed, you allowed the soothing hand on your back to continue its motions.

“It’s strange,” you began; trying to blink away the exhaustion settling in your eyes, “I just woke up, yet I still feel so tired.”

At your words, Albedo’s heart stuttered and the hand on your back froze, eventually moving to cup your face. “Whatever you do, Y/N, you mustn’t fall asleep.” He pleaded, to which you only hummed.

“There’s this place I want to show you.” You grinned, your delirium truly beginning to limit your understanding. “It’s not too far from Vannessa’s Tree -actually it’s close to that boat Klee destroyed. On clear nights you can see the stars reflecting on the water's surface, like a mirror. It’s a stunning view, better than the one at Starsnatch Cliff in my opinion. I go there every so often to clear my head and relax; I thought I’d share it with you.”

The idea sounded wonderful to Albedo and under normal circumstances he probably would have been thrilled to spend more time with you -especially in a place so dear to you, yet no matter how hopelessly he tried, he couldn’t fight the weight that settled on his chest, but the nail on his coffin was the bashful confession that followed -that you wanted to remain by his side for as long as you could.

“If you’re not too busy, how about we go take a look after I wake up, I don’t think it’ll be cloudy—”

“You can’t fall asleep.” Albedo repeated, his voice beginning to reveal his desperation, nevertheless, it all went over your head.

“Why not? I’m so tired.” You pouted, leaning forward to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Because if you do…” He paused, scared to finish his sentence and acknowledge what was to come, because if you were to fall asleep, he wouldn’t be able to guarantee that you’d awake, instead, he sang the same pleadings over and over again in hopes that you’d listen to him, but you didn’t -couldn’t; not when the blood of his ‘brother’ had already stripped you of your vitality.

“I promise I’ll take you there Albedo, just be sure to wake me up in a few minutes.” You lopsidedly smiled although your eyes drooped with every second they remained open. “Okay?”

You didn't wait for his answer, already repositioning to lie down. “Archons, I’m exhausted.” You mumbled before turning to meet his shimmering gaze. “Don’t look so sad, it’s just ten minutes -we’ll be out and about before you know it.”

With a final squeeze to his hand, you allowed your eyes to draw to a close and Albedo helplessly watched as your breathing slowed to a complete halt and for the first time in his entire existence he felt the sensation of tears spilling from his eyes.

Between his frantic shouts of your name and the drying of his tears, Albedo was unsure of how much time had lapsed, but he lifted his head from your still chest when he heard the distinct twinkling of the Traveler’s companion zooming into his encampment with eyes visibly set on finding you -and when they did, she froze. Her eyes dimmed with a childlike sorrow before she fled behind Aether’s cape.

Confused by the fae’s behaviour, the rest of the group entered. Their sights landed on Albedo’s kneeling frame first before moving to your lifeless one beside him.

“No,” it was Amber’s voice who had broken the silence first as she made her way to you. “She can’t be— no… She can’t be gone.” She turned to Albedo with a pleading look in her honey eyes. “She’s just resting, right?”

“Amber…” Eula’s stepped forward.

“Please Albedo, tell me she’s only asleep.” The Outrider continued only to break down in bitter sobs when the alchemist solemnly shook his head.

They descended the mountain that evening in complete silence, safe for the sporadic sniffles belonging to either Amber or Paimon -even Bennett managed to stave off his bad luck during their trip back.

When the group returned a large meeting was held within the Favonius headquarters announcing your passing to the knights, leaving your many friends, colleagues and subordinates tearful and forlorn.

Albedo remained at the back of the hall as Jean spoke, trying to come to terms with the events prior to their descent whilst searching for the words to tell his sister knowing that she looked up to you.

The meeting ended as Jean mournfully left for her office. Kaeya quickly found Albedo as he headed towards the exit with words of quiet condolences on his lips before allowing the blond to leave.

Albedo would have noticed the slight gloss over the Captain’s eye had it not been for the way the blue-haired man avoided all eye contact until he had separated. He thought back on all your adventurous escapades featuring the Cavalry Captain -he would probably miss you as much as Albedo would.

The trip to Vannessa’s Tree was spontaneous, no doubt something you would have done. As he arrived at the broken boat, he peered into the shallow waters and indeed, he could see the vast multitude of stars shimmering within its reflection.

There he remained -a part of him still hoping that the entire day had merely been a nightmare. That he’d open his eyes to find yours brimming with life again; instead he heard you beside him. Laughing as the cold water tickled your legs, but when he turned you were nowhere to be found -he had only heard the sound of your memory from the days spent at the Golden Apple last year.

After having heard enough trickery from the wind, Albedo returned to the city. Passing by some of your favourite shops on his way to your home and with a heavy sigh, he bent to retrieve your spare key from under the pot plant.

The door opened with a slight creek before Albedo was met with the absolute silence of your abode.

He gingerly stepped through your doorway, his body instantly embraced by your lingering scent causing fresh tears to well up in his teal eyes.

Closing the door behind him and turning on the few lamps at the entrance, Albedo’s sight landed on a small jar collecting dust on your counter. He stepped closer, examining its familiar shape until he finally pieced together its contents.

It was the cecilia he had given you some few months ago and although he should have been happy to see that you had kept it, his heart couldn’t help but clench at the sight -for the cecilia had wilted.

#🍁.content book #genshin impact #genshin fic #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin angst #albedo genshin x reader #albedo genshin impact #albedo x reader #albedo fanfic #albedo #albedo kreideprinz #albedo angst #genshin impact angst #genshin

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race-week · 11 months

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I still don’t see why they don’t just check everyone or at least after they found the issue they should have gone back and checked the others

Okay, so the first point I have is people don’t seem to realise the amount of time these checks take and how in-depth some of them are.

The amount of fans who already complain when waiting for the results of post race penalties, imagine having to wait until end of day, Monday or start of day Tuesday to get the final results for the race because that’s what it would be if you wanted all of the cars to have full checks after the race

If the FIA were holding onto the cars to complete further tests, it would also massively delay the teams and really increase their workload, particularly on double and triple header weekends where they have to be packed up within a few hours within 3 to 5 hours normally, so they’d have an even shorter time period in which to work in

They’d probably be having to keep the cars in overnight to complete checks on all 20, so teams would have to stay an extra day to then take apart the car the next day, which delays them in getting to the next race and getting set up for that.

Then in regards to your point about why didn’t they go back and test the other cars?

Once the car is touched by someone outside of the FIA (and the driver) it cannot be guaranteed that it hasn’t been tampered with which would essentially nullify any tests that they did carry out.

In the future, maybe they expand the testing of the wear plank to be one driver for each team or the top 10 finishers, but that would be a significant amount of extra work for the scrutinies and it would likely delay getting final race results.

Also where do you draw the line, should more drivers have oil and fuel sampling done, or aerodynamic checks etc

#al’s asks #plank talk

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imreadydollparts · 2 years

Text

Speaking of conditioners, I don’t think I’ve made a post with the conditioners I have used all in one place and how they fared.

I do my best to keep my tools and things both inexpensive and easy to get a hold of. This is both because I personally burn through quite a lot of these materials and also so any recommendations I made to other people curious about getting into hair restoration or only needing to fix one or two ponies won’t find it prohibitively priced to give it a try.

Generally I will seek out products available at stores like Walmart or Dollar Tree.

I also try to stick to things that are generally safe for people to come into prolonged contact with. I like to keep things play safe though personally I like to use scented products. Sometimes ponies are musty.

One thing I have found is that the worse it is for natural hair, the better it tends to be for synthetics.

(I screengrabbed most of these pics off Amazon)

Suave Essentials Shine Conditioner works well enough, is inexpensive, and easy to get. There are a few different scents available. Though this conditioner can’t bring vintage doll and pony hair back to a like-new feel, it does notably improve dry, crispy, stiff hair which is the goal.

Not amazing, but adequate 👍.

I’ve only used VO5 Moisture Milks on two ponies so far and can already say that it is not nearly as effective at re-moisturizing nylon fiber as the Suave. It does make some small improvement to the texture and flexibility so is better than nothing, but not my pick. I haven’t tried it on my hair, yet.

Mane ‘n Tail does nothing for synthetics. When applied it feels like it’s magically fixing the texture but once you rinse it you’ll see it was just sitting on the surface. It doesn’t even leave a coating. My S.O.’s hair likes it, though.

At one point I’d received a full-size sample pair of some new-at-the-time Herbal Essences shampoo and conditioner and it destroyed my hair so badly that I ended up having to cut it off after attempting some heavy hair masks to recover it which was distressing as I keep my hair rather long.

I can’t remember the exact product it was other than it was yellow and focused on shine.

The conditioner was hell on my hair, but fantastic for dolls and ponies. Suave Essentials was a downgrade when I finally ran out of the Herbal Essences.

THIS stuff is exceedingly good at smoothing and re-moisturizing synthetic hair BUT you can’t just go buy it. It only comes in Garnier hair bleaching kits (I don’t know if it’s included in the dying kits), and I only happened to try it because I had bought a clearance bleaching kit to try out a small amount of 40Vol as a vinyl destainer before committing to buying a big bottle of it.

I save this after color mask for ponies/dolls in dire condition.

Some non-conditioner things I have tried on the worst of the worst dry synthetic hair that wasn’t reacting to conditioner are:

Regular old petroleum jelly.

To use this I rubbed the TINIEST touch of petroleum jelly into my palms, and gently applied the thinnest layer possible to the hair of a styling head (so a tiny-tiny touch of jelly for a LOT of hair) followed by flat ironing. It is not ideal because it’s easy to get too much and then you have to strip it off again, but it did help where other products had failed.

and

Pure, food-grade mineral oil, which can sometimes be more difficult to get a hold of.

I’d bought this to condition my dried out wooden spoons and the like.

Application is about the same. A little oil in my palms and a light touch applying it followed by heat. Same chance of getting too much, also, making both petroleum jelly and pure mineral oil more difficult to use than hair conditioner. It did improve the texture of synthetic hair.

Baby oil is scented mineral oil so you could use that if you want, but I have always hated the way specific baby products smell (baby oil and baby powder) so I won’t even touch baby oil if I can avoid it.

#doll hair #doll repair

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calamityandme · 1 year

Text

Dear diary (lol),

Today has been very good. I got to sleep in finally. I woke up at 11:15 and had a brief moment of, “oh shit, can I do that?” but snapped out of it.

I made coffee and showed Danny how I like my coffee so he can make me some hahaha. After drinking a cup of strong café bustelo I started working on the house. Sundays are my cleaning days.

I started with arguably one of the hardest chores today, something I’ve been wanting to do for a while since I’m preparing for our families to visit the house later this month; vacuuming out the air conditioner grates.

It hadn’t been cleaned probably since we’ve moved here, over four years ago. Some people would be mortified by me saying that, others would probably question why I’m cleaning a rental that hardcore. I’m doing it now, that’s what matters. Not that Danny’s parents are going to come over and immediately look at my grates. I worry that little things like that are secretly making the house smell bad.

While cleaning the grates i had to empty the shop vac out multiple times because it kept getting stuck with thick wads of dark gray dust and fibers. I also found what I think was a molded McDonald’s French fry. I was actually amazed because I’ve never seen a molded McDonald’s fry before. I wondered how fucking long that fry had been in that grate before fate decided I would obsess over cleaning something long enough to eventually do it.

After the grates I vacuumed the inside of the couch, vacuumed the living room twice as well as the kitchen, bathroom and second bedroom. I mopped the kitchen, bathroom and second bedroom. I didn’t want to bother with our room this time (trying to convince myself that’s fine). Then I tidied the living room and kitchen, gathered all the trash, did two loads of laundry, cleaned the bathroom and filled the essential oil diffusers. Changed both litter boxes and replaced with fresh litter. Danny did some more dishes also which I appreciate.

It’s a small thing, but I also moved a succulent onto our coffee table in the living room. I think it makes the house look nice. We have a lot of plants but most of them are on the porch during the summer and the rest are next to the best windows in the house for light.

I’m trying really hard to make the house smell alright. Not that I think it reeks right now. I just know people become smell blind when they live in a home for a while. I don’t want my mom to come over and think, “smells like weed and old produce,” y’know?

Now that I’m pretty much done with cleaning for the day I’m kind of not sure what to do. I’m trying to remember desires that are not productive/cleaning related.

I thought about baking earlier but now my energy is running out. It’s almost 7 PM and my body is slowing down. I might sort laundry, maybe watch a show and play the Switch. Take a bath. I don’t know.

I finished my Graveyard Book. It was a really good book. I really enjoyed listening to Neil Gaiman’s narration. I wish Bod and Scarlet could have stayed friends, but I imagine that after Nobody traveled out of the cemetery he found a good life with people to spend time with.

Now I’m starting a new audiobook. The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller. So far I’m hooked. I started listening to it today and I’m already 25% done with it (almost listened to three hours just while cleaning). I like the storytelling in this book, the gay tension and the Greek influences.

Tomorrow I’m going to try to not do much. That’s what I try to do when I don’t work on Mondays anyway. I have to schedule down days often for myself, otherwise I will keep going until I breakdown. My fuse is so much shorter than it used to be, I used to tolerate so much more. I just have to have time to lay in bed or stare at the wall and exist. It recharges me so I can do what I need to throughout the week.

I hope anyone reading this has had a good weekend 🩵

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peytons-depression-land · 2 years

Text

This Post is Not About My Day Trip to Santa Barbara

I rode Amtrak’s California Surfliner from LA to Santa Barbara and back for a day trip a couple weeks ago. I had a good time, took notes, took pictures, and fully intended to write up a something about the experience. I tried to write the post the day after I took the trip. But, only about six paragraphs in, I impulsively typed the following:

“Is anyone actually reading this? Does anyone care? This is horrendously boring isn’t it. Why did I kid myself that anyone cares what I think or do or write. It’s all pointless bullshit. My existence is pointless. I should just stop even trying to write this boring fucking article and go out and buy some rope to hang myself with right now.”

That’s essentially been what my writing process has been like for the last year or so. Crippling self-doubt at every turn. Even the act of trying to recount something I enjoyed doing, in which I took steps to aid me in retelling – which I also enjoyed doing – feels like pissing in the wind. As I sit here alone in my bedroom, several weeks later, my head slightly sore from drinking on an empty stomach and forgetting to take my Cymbalta and Lithium today, I’m still wondering if it’s worth trying to write this. But I feel like I need to write something, anything. My energy to work on scripts has all but seemingly drained out of me. All I’m doing day in, and day out is a glorified customer service job with the veneer of an entertainment industry entry point. The last 10 months I’ve been about as creative as I would be in a coma.

I’ve tried putting the words down so many times, in so many ways. As I already mentioned, I have a whole other word document of a scrapped previous attempt. But something inside me is just fundamentally averse with trying to write this story. But why? The trip was great. I rode an Amtrak train for the first time: something I’d wanted to do for so long. Yeah, it’s lame, but as a fan of rail systems and as someone who believes we should have a better one in the US, scrappy little Amtrak is all we got, so I had a blast finally getting to take even a short trip on it. Upon boarding there were conductors at the door with the little hats they wear! I bought a reasonably priced but kinda shitty cookie and diet coke in the charming little snack car area. There was a LED sign in the passenger area that just constantly read “AMTRAK” for some reason, as if it feared that we Americans are so unfamiliar with the concept of traveling by train we’d forget we were on one if not continually reminded while en route. I even snuck into the mostly empty business class section with the nicer seats for half of the ride (well idk if I snuck in or not, it was unclear if I was supposed to be in it – but they never asked for my ticket so who knows).

The ever present Amtrak sign

Why was trying to recount all this such a chore; why did it feel like the most boring thing in the world to try and tell people about it? I enjoyed it, and isn’t that enough? Isn’t it enough that I found a certain beauty in the progression of the scenery outside the train? First passing through the industrial wasteland of greater LA, the storage facilities, trailer parks, and graffiti covered warehouses of The Valley. We then moved into patchy green hills marked with tan rocks that jutted out, tunnels going through the low mountains, peaks off in the distance still snow-capped from the recent freak snowfalls. The train even passed by an old, disused movie backlot, probably a relic from a time before streaming services and the internet. Why was my mind screaming at me to hate myself for trying to write? Why is it still?

Sitting in the business class we finally reached the portion of track that rides along the coastline. There are oil rigs off in the distance. The roads next to the tracks are dotted with hippie surfer vans and road trip retiree RVs. Only about 30 minutes behind schedule, which as I understand it is pretty good for Amtrak, we reach Santa Barbara.

Business class, on the coastline

I need to keep writing. I need to finish this so I can know I can move on. Should I go next door to the 7-11 and get an energy drink to try to keep me awake to finish this? It’s almost 1am. I don’t work tomorrow so I can stay up, but I don’t want to. But I need to just get this done now and move the hell on with my life. Like who is gonna read this bullshit melodrama about my embarrassing struggle to write a damn blog post and think it’s good. This is gonna be a piece that – if I’m ever lucky enough to reach any notoriety of any sort – people will find and use to make fun of me. They’ll point out how self-obsessed I am. How nothing all this is. How emblematic of a cultural emptiness a vain writing like this is. Acquaintances will find this and shit talk me behind my back. No one will respect me. I will be laughed at on podcasts.

God I could use a drink right now. But I can’t. I’ve already hit my 1500 calories for the day and I don’t want to go over my limit. I need to stick to my routine. But fuck do I want a drink. I’ve just been drinking more and more recently. I finally get the appeal. I didn’t really start drinking until after I turned 21. Not out of some sense of following the law, but I simply wasn’t interested in drinking for some reason. Call it a fear of losing control, having something I knew would affect my mind. But now I get it. It makes me feel better, even just a bit. Helps me feel less sad. I want my mind to be affected. It’s better than its default state. Drinking was part of the reason I took the train to Santa Barbara. Not driving means I could just walk around all day and drink, and then just ride home. Day drinking two hours up the coast from where I live.

Santa Barbara is a sleepy city. Google says its population is right around 88k, but you wouldn’t guess it on the day I was there. It felt like a place where no one lived, only visited on day trips and weekends. All of the buildings downtown where white with red clay tiles on the roofs. I’d later learn this is a kind of architectural standard imposed on the downtown area, so even the 7/11 looks like a building in an old Spanish village.

Fairly quiet by the train station

The thing about Santa Barbara is it’s not actually historic, at least what you see today isn’t – comparatively speaking. It was all built in the 20s, riding off a regional fad of recreating old Spanish architecture, like the grand courthouse built in 1929, which is meant to recreate a Spanish castle. It’s all fairy tale facade; the beautiful grand mural room in the courthouse painted by a guy who did the storyboards for Cecil B DeMille, famous movie director and co-founder of the place I’m indentured as a servant. But just because the town - the courthouse is a facsimile doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful, because it is. The cavernous halls of the courthouse, which is still functioning (meaning that while you tourist around inside you occasionally pass serious looking conversations between lawyers and clients), is filled with stylish oddities like phone booths housed in ornate wooden doored alcoves, or fire extinguisher cubbies with stained glass doors. The garden courtyard of the place a seemingly popular spot for wedding photos, as exemplified by the lesbian couple in matching pristine white suits that stood yards away from me.

The courthouse entrance

Courthouse entrance hall

Still contains working payphones

Probably don't break the glass even in case of emergency

But the inaccuracies are there. I stumbled my way onto a free tour given by a docent of the building’s historical society. A knowledgeable and enthusiastic older man prone to curtness if asked any questions by those on the tour. He pointed out things like how the grand doors, that on a real Spanish castle are built large enough to allow riders on horseback to pass through, are built at the top of a flight of stairs and horses can’t climb stairs. Or how the building mixes designs of the three coalescing religions of Spain, blending catholic angels with Islamic tiling, and Jewish stars. The docent pronounces Muslim like “moslum.” Saying this feels eye-roll worthy, but I can’t help feel some sort of parallel with falsehoods of the city, the veneer masking the truth inside. Typing that sentences makes me start to feel self-conscious again. Damn, I was starting to really get on a roll there for a minute.

The docent in the mural room

Several shops in Santa Monica seem to fit my interests quite well. I browsed a cluttered bazaar of antiques – my favorite type of antique store, one in which things are piled and hidden on packed shelves, not some overpriced boutique experience but a real treasure hunt. There was the Book Den, a nice little bookstore with a large amount of old paperback pulp and detective novels, something I really enjoy. I left with a 1978 copy of Raymond Chandler’s The Big Sleep (I had just finished reading The High Window) featuring an illustration of Robert Mitchum on the cover, the film adaptation staring him advertised bellow the title, as well as a more recent printing of Bukowski’s Factotum (I’ve never read anything by Bukowski but look forward to digging in). I stopped in a comic shop, in which I considered buying the complete SCUD book, but decided against it since I didn’t want to lug it around the rest of the afternoon. A 30-something man who I assume had some type of neuro-atypical condition paced around the store talking to himself about the comics he wanted to buy, excitedly holding a book up (I didn’t see what) and exclaiming “I heard James Gunn wants to adapt this!” to the uninterested cashiers who feigned interest out of niceness. After chugging down a happy hour sangria in a forgettable trendy, exposed ceiling bar, I tipsily browsed a record store that for some reason had glass cabinets at the back containing ridiculously breasted anime women figurines. The place had no Steely Dan or Warren Zevon records– disappointing. However, I did get a copy of the soundtrack to the film The Midnight Express, the film my mom says was the first ever R-rated movie she was allowed to see in the theater. I’ve never seen it but love its soundtrack as it contains seminal works from the electronic and disco music pioneer Giorgio Moroder. Carrying around the handle-less paper bag the record was put in was a bit inconvenient for the rest of the afternoon.

If there was a theme for the food I ate that day it was the ocean. For lunch I had a lobster roll that was good, but overpriced, as many restaurants in California are. The place I got it from was decked out in neon, looking like the juice bar the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers hung out at when not fighting evil mixed with an episode of Baywatch. The theming was fun but felt hollow in that “intentionally trying to be eccentric” way trendy places in LA often are.

The crab roll was good. The chips were underwhelming.

For dinner I wound up at Mexican place where I had octopus tacos which were great, unlike the extremely bland rice and a salad covered in some awful, cloyingly sweet dressing that tasted like bubblegum flavored medication that was served on the side. That’s ok, the chips and salsa were enough to compliment the great tacos. A couple tables over from me where the two mothers – I think they were friends, not lesbians – with 5 children, who I’d witnessed almost get the youngest child, no more than 5, killed by an oncoming car earlier. After going across the cross walk, the mothers had realized the youngest girl wasn’t crossing the street with them, so they yelled for her to catch, only to realize at the last second that the light had already changed and they had told her to run across the path of an oncoming car. The car was thankfully going pretty slow and was paying attention, so crisis was averted, and the two mothers appeared to pretty much immediately move on from the near child-death, or at least that’s how it looked to me from across the street. Now, across the patio, they ate dinner while the kids shouted at one another across the table, all with apparent amnesia to the near accident from 30 minutes prior. After dinner I walked across the street and had a small ice-cream cone and was able to pay in exact change thanks to my book purchase from earlier in the day. I had let myself eat whatever that day, take a break from the routine. I don’t normally indulge as much as you’re reading about.

One of the last places I saw in Santa Barbara was the pier. If you’ve ever been to the chaotic, crowded, vendor cart and tourist gimmick-filled Santa Monica pier in LA, the Santa Barbara pier is pretty much the exact opposite, or at least it did that day, to me. It has quiet, despite being decently busy. No one shouting or yelling, blocking paths so they could stop and take pictures. Only one cheesy gift shop and a couple local restaurants. Down at the end of the pier sat big palm trunks on their sides, a creative way to make benches for the patrons. The sunset was nice. I was still a little drunk from the sangria so maybe that’s why I liked the place so much. They even had some free telescopes you could use to look out across the water. A seagull landed beside me.

Seagull friend

I finished my ice-cream cone and waited for my train home to finally arrive. The two mothers and the kids waited, all five of them screaming in unison and running around, even getting precariously close to the tracks. God help these kids survive to adulthood. When the train pulled in, I made sure to sit in a different car from them. The alcohol from earlier was finally starting to wear off so I bought a $7 canned margarita from the snack car (still cheaper than most bars in LA). The buzz of the drink felt good. Riding the train is like taking a plane, only much less oppressive. There’s more room to move around, its less crowded, and no security theater causing a hassle. I finish my book and my drink.

The Midnight Express - sans Turkish prisons, and actually just at 6:50pm

I reach my stop, and it seems to be just in the nick of time. While I wait for the train to pull in, the conductor makes an announcement on the PA box near me. They’ll be waiting at my stop for an indefinite amount of time, as it seems there’s a car stuck on the tracks up ahead. With exasperation she mentions to the handful of us waiting by the door how occurrences like this happen every day. She says something along the lines of “it seems like automobiles are just always interfering with trains.” I sympathize with her frustration, and whether she knows it or not she’s just described America’s central problem when it comes to effective national rail transit. I exit the train. And with that I was home.

I… I did it. I wrote about my trip. Kinda. Good enough. Why was that so hard? Once things got going the only thing that was difficult was how tired I am. Maybe that’s the key. More tired less self-conscious. But it’s good I wrote it all out, I needed to. Just like I needed to take the trip. Because I love trains. I love going to cool places and learning about their history. I love eating good food and finding cool shops. I needed to go because I spend a lot of my time hating myself, hating life, hating the state of things both personal and at large, thinking about death, and I need to try to find ways to break out of my trench and remind myself of reasons to live. Ok, writing that part makes me start to worry again. Is that too saccharine of an ending? I guess it doesn’t matter, because as long as I couch what I write in ironic detachment and meta-analysis of the writing process, I can claim innocence. Them’s the rules. I feel like this might have all wrapped up too quickly, but, again, this isn’t a post about my trip to Santa Barbara. So, it doesn’t matter if I don’t have a good ending. It just matters that it ends.

Until next time.

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bukojuiice · 3 years

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— genshin boys as your late night study buddy

ೃ ft. childe, diluc, kaeya, zhongli, xiao and albedo x gn! reader

ೃ 200-299 words per character! (they are your bfs in this! bc MAN do i desperately want one of the genshin boys to cram school works with and shower me with luv and affection.) ♡

ೃ tags: college au, modern au, and lots of fluff.

ೃ thank you so so much for 1k notes on my very first batch of genshin hcs! i appreciate all the luv it received and i can never thank all of you enough 🥺 i’ll be making a genshin masterlist soon to compile all of my current and future works so pls stay tuned for that!

ೃ if you want to be a part of my taglist, answer this form! ♡

ZHONGLI:

– Zhongli would be a very chill study partner. He will always keep his cool and focus, never letting his attention stray away from less trivial things. If he can focus, he’ll focus. There’s always this sense of comfort surrounding him that brightens up your mood and productivity. The both of you are sat in this long table, papers, books, and cute matching pencils are sprawled about. You lean your head on his shoulder, as he serenades you with his deep and butter voice, explaining all the formulas to you. Being able to study in peace and quiet with him is always a blissful experience. He never fails to brew you green tea (as it helps the brain function) even if that meant going down to the kitchen at 2 in the morning. He always brings a small humidifier and some essential oils with him that can help brighten up the study mood and that emits a wafting vanilla pinecone scent to keep you happy. (He’s just fancy like that.) When he doesn’t understand the concepts right away, he’d turn to you, his sharp amber eyes gazing at yours with nothing but innocent and love, and asks: “(Y/N)... what reference is this supposed to be? pepe the frog? kermit the frog? here come dat boi? aren’t they all just amphibians? what are the differences between them? I am very intrigued.”

CHILDE:

– Childe loves a challenge. An academic challenge. He loves the thrill of finishing school works the night before the deadline, he loves studying for a pop quiz twenty minutes before the bell rings, and most importantly, he loves to pretend he doesn’t know how to solve point a to point b if that means getting to spend time with you as you tutor him on how to do so. He’s at the top of the class, He’s popular and friendly, He’s the captain of the Archery Team, and one of the vice council members of the Fatui Club. But, no other title will ever come close to being your study buddy. You and Childe always chill on the bed whenever you study. Especially when the both of you have the sudden urge to just laze around. Well, it is the wee hours of the night, so just lounging around and trying to resist the urge of sleep is pretty understandable. Sometimes, the two of you would take power naps in between study sessions. This meant cuddle times! Childe will always cuddle with you, (he’s the big spoon and you are the smol spoon) and often times you would be immersed into your textbook while he’s scrolling through his phone and looking for some of the current and popular memes. He’d poke you on the cheek and show you what he’s found. It was quite annoying sometimes and you would reprimand him for it, but it never fails to make you laugh. You jokingly suggested one time that the two of you sneak in the library after closing hours, and your chaotic boyfriend turns to you with the biggest smirk plastered on his face. “Let’s do it baby. I know the law.”

DILUC:

–You and Diluc are the cutest pair of night owls. So, studying late at night is never a problem with him because with the help of each other, the both of you are unstoppable. An actual power couple. Batman and his love interest who? I only know (Y/N) and Diluc. Mondstadt University should be giving you the title of #NoSleepGang for the “Campus Cuties” awards because the two of you are able to ace every test still despite lack of sleep. You and Diluc are very very organized. The both of you own matching couple planners (that the both of you had gifted to each for Christmas) and have your entire study schedule planned out already. Since the two of you prefer to study at night, your dates are usually done during the day. Which meant never having to worry about the upcoming finals whilst you’re at a cute little café with him. The both of you have respective desks whenever you study together, but you never fail to gaze at your crimson-haired boyfriend with the cutest pout and biggest puppy eyes. He always gives in and next thing you know, your swivel chairs are practically glued next to each other and the both of you are cuddling in your seats. One thing that Diluc never fails to do is pamper you with comfort food or little gifts that you love after a long and tiring week of hell (aka exams) It’s such a sweet gesture and the blissful relationship that you have can’t get any better than this.

“I got you some boba and that necklace from Pandora that you’ve always wanted. I-I’m so proud of you (Y/N). You did great, my love.”

KAEYA:

- You are the Lawful Good to Kaeya’s Chaotic Evil. Kaeya is always tempted to ask for answers from your professors. He’s quite the teacher’s pet, but with good intentions. That’s just how he rolls. Every time he jokes about going to the faculty to help out and the answer sheets are just out in the open, waiting to be snatched, you always glare at at him and punch him softly on the arm, every time he tries to bring up the idea. To which he would always reply with, “I’m kidding. Just kidding my love.” You and Kaeya have amazing study hacks. He is always able to find a movie that is somewhat related to the topics that the both of you are currently studying about. For example, when the topic was an introduction to different branches of science, Kaeya chose Big Hero 6 as the “Educational Movie Of the Day.” He is always able to find something fun and informative for the both of you to watch. Well, Kaeya does find fun and interest in everything. Another effective strategy that both of you do is every time you or him get an answer right, you reward each other with either a kiss on the cheek or a bear hug. Both of these affectionate gestures give you butterflies in your stomach anyway, so it doesn’t matter which is which. With the ideas that Kaeya constantly makes up every single day of your study sessions, there’s a high chance that you’ll never fluke a test ever again.

“Oh. That’s pretty cool of you (Y/N). You got 30 correct answers! If we count everything, so I basically gave you 15 forehead kisses and 15 bear hugs. Congrats! I know we’re going to ace our finals!”

XIAO:

– Xiao is extremely intelligent and talented in a myriad of things. However, he lacks self-confidence. You’ve sworn to your boyfriend that you’d help him gain confidence in his academic abilities. Which is why you became study buddies in the first place. It served as dates with him too! Although he stubbornly refused at first, his reasons being that he can do things by himself and he doesn’t need any help. You continued to encourage him that this was going to help the both of you and it was a way for the two of you to bond, and Xiao hesistantly agreed right after. As the captain of the soccer team, “The Liyue Adepti”, The only free time that Xiao has was during the evening which is the reason for your scheduled late night studies with him. This brought so much more intimate and sweet moments with him though! It meant sleepovers with him, midnight snack runs, and casual early morning strolls in the park. It became sort of a routine. Your hand interlaced with his, the crisp morning air, the little chirpings birds, and the tranquil swaying of the trees brought so much comfort to the both of you. Xiao would be the type of student to not speak up unless he’s called. Even if he knows the answer. The both of you sit on some floor pillows whenever you would study. So, whilst you read aloud, Xiao always hugs you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder.

“I don’t deserve the patience and love you give me, (Y/N). I am eternally grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I hope you know, that I’ll always be here for you.”

ALBEDO:

- Being the university’s library assistant has it’s perks. Access to infinite knowledge, quiet solitude within the library walls, and being able to hang out with your boyfriend. It was truly a perfect deal. After classes, Albedo would be heading straight over to the library to do his work. You’d meet him there and wait until he gets his work done, and then the two of you head home together or have dinner. Albedo likes to plan things in advance. He’s quite busy, being a part of university’s alchemist group and as a library assistant, but, he will always study with you. He even brings Klee with him at times too! She’s always an energetic and cute addition, + she tattles on and on about how in love Albedo is with you and how he would never shut up about you at home. Albedo puts a lot of effort into creating review materials for the both of you. He makes very intricate drawings of modules, dioramas of certain science models, and has all the formulas memorized for him to list down. He’s a genius after all, and although you’ve constantly told him time and time again that he doesn’t have to make a review paper specifically catered to you, he still insists. He always gifts you one whenever it’s exam week (he adds extra detail to them during your finals) The cutest thing about these papers are scribbled about in all of the pages. The cutest doodles of the two of you with hearts and flowers drawn all over. Albedo + (Y/N) is even written in the last page, along with a heartfelt message:

“I put all my faith and belief in you, (Y/N). I know you can do this. I’m proud of everything you’ve reached so far, my beloved. and I know you’ll reach greater heights. Let’s continue to excel and thrive together. I can’t wait to spend the rest of this journey with you.”

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imfluentinfangirlandgay · 3 years

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Emmet's Adventures in Babysitting - Ch 7 (Johto)

Emmet had to take a second to think back. He looked around at the seven heads around him, each one with a Pokemon containing powers he could not even imagine, all with eager eyes hellbent on one thing and one thing alone: him. How had he even gotten here?

Word Count: ~700

short chapter, i'm writing the Grand Finale(TM)

Emmet felt like he was running out of time. He awoke too early, his body buzzing with energy. There were only two places left to look. What if he wasn’t there? What if… what if Ingo really was… no, don’t think like that, nope! Not there! Not now! He’s still alive and well and you couldn’t convince Emmet otherwise!

The boat landed, Emmet briskly taking off. The kids behind him had to run to keep up with him. He had a mini stampede behind him at this point. Something about the whole situation would have been ridiculously funny if he wasn’t so distraught. They managed to catch up with him as he rounded a path, breathing hard. He paused, trying to get his bearings. Where was Ingo?

“We split up. Half of us take Route 37 and go around that ring there with the park, the other half go around this whole area. Meet back here, at the Pokemon Center in Violet City. If he’s not here, he has to be in Sinnoh.” Hilbert’s commanding voice worked incredibly well. Hilda, Calem, Chase, and Eilo split off into one group with Gloria, Hilbert, May, and Emmet in the other. Emmet’s group decided to go by the path with the Lake of Rage. The other Group went down Route 37.

They ran full-steam ahead like a well-oiled train. Ask a person, they say no, they move on. Emmet was beginning to feel hot and sluggish. He knew he was starting to panic. They should have found Ingo by now. Why hadn’t they? Hilbert and May essentially dragged him along just to continue searching for his brother. They looked at each other with concern. This didn’t bode well.

They had to stay the night in a Pokemon Center along the way, just outside of the Dark Cave (aptly named). Emmet was informed through Gloria and the group chat that the others had settled in a Pokemon Center safely, too. Gloria called her mum. Hilbert was texting Hilda and May was scrolling through social media. Emmet simply lay on his back, on the floor. Chandelure floated over to him, resting her glass over his field of vision. She made a pitiful noise that absolutely dragged at the very depths of Emmet’s heart. He couldn’t give up hope yet. Ingo could still be out there. “I miss him, too, Chandie,” he murmured. He felt tears pricking his eyes, but he didn’t want to cry with the kids awake. He had already done too much that they had to bear witness to.

The next morning, Emmet hadn’t slept. At all. He hadn’t eaten, he couldn't eat. Eelektross made concerned buzzes at him, but that didn’t change anything. Emmet strode along the path, searching for any sign - any sign at all - of his brother. He kept the smile on his face, trying to appear in high spirits. It simply means they’ve narrowed it down! Either the other search party had found him, or he had to be in Sinnoh! This was a good thing!

They finally made it to Violet Town by the end of the next night. The party collapsed into the Pokemon Center, finding the first group already there. They had a new member. “This is Ethan, the current Champion of Johto. It made sense for him to tag along at this point,” Chase explained. There was a small ripple of laughter amongst the group, but nobody seemed in the mood for talking. Emmet dragged himself to a couch and promptly collapsed, his body having no energy between the self-imposed lack of food and sleep. But even so, he couldn’t slip into unconsciousness. He pretended to sleep so that all the teens would go to their rooms. When he was alone, he sobbed fat, hot tears into his hat. The Joltik did their best to calm him, but Emmet could not feel them anymore. His body was numb. He was numb. Ingo was not in Johto, either. Emmet only had one more shot.

[Prologue] - [Previous] - [Next]

#pokemon legends arceus #submas #subway boss ingo #subway bosses #subway boss emmet #pokemon ingo #pokemon arceus #legends arceus ingo #warden ingo #my writing #emmets adventures in babysitting

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

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Buds of Marigold. Yan Childe x Reader x Yan Scaramouche

Warnings: Implied forced marriage, unhealthy relationships, depictions of anxiety, darling threatening violence against someone, mild not SFW implications. Word count: 2.5k.

“I never thought the day would come where I’d be so stumped,” Ying’er runs her fingers over glass bottles of essential oils and varying plant nectars. “For such an important customer too… everything needs to be perfect.”

You don’t lift your eyes from the task in your hands, scrubbing valiantly at a stain blemishing an incense pot. To affirm you have been listening, even if you won’t spare her a glance until you’ve finished cleaning, you hum with a rising intonation. Ying’er sinks to the ground with all the grace of a drunken sailor, sniffling in a final attempt to pry out your sympathy.

She hobbles over to where you’re sitting and places her head on your lap. Your body tenses at the sudden touch, but you steady your breathing before it can get noticeable.

“Oh, almighty Yun, the lost Archon of fragrances, have thee no pity for thy devout follower,” Ying’er lifts the back of her hand and presses it against her forehead in a show of unparalleled theatrics. The sight does as she intended, a light giggle leaving your lips at the impromptu melodrama. Her timing lines up well as the stubborn grime you were fighting finally concedes.

You place the incense pot aside and sheepishly pat her head. “Ying’er, how are you going to learn if I give you the answers every time?”

“By your ingenious example!” She exclaims, jutting out her lower lip into a pout. “I’ve already picked out the base, I just need a little nudging in the right direction for the top and mid notes.”

Your eyes soften and your heart is strum with conviction. You soothe your grumbling friend by stroking her hair, humming a soft tune, all the while feeling somewhat baffled by your growth thus far. A few moons ago, you couldn’t have pictured allowing yourself to be touched like this by anyone. It wouldn’t matter how innocent the contact was. The moment someone got too close for comfort, you were willing to reduce them to nothing but a pile of cinders.

You pause your ministrations and sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll help you compose your perfume. This is the last time though, okay?”

Ying’er ailments seemingly vaporize into the air at your begrudging assistance. She shoots up from her kneeling position like her feet were coiled springs, an overflow of gratitude fumbling past her lips.

“You’re the best, Yun,” she praises and pinches your cheek, much to your chagrin. “Now that I’ve won you over with my charms, how about—”

The front door’s chimes ring, alerting you both of someone entering. You two exchange a look of confusion, as Scent of Spring is closed for the day, the oil lanterns extinguished and doors locked. Your finger twitches by your side in anticipation. Ying’er is blissfully ignorant to your Vision and subsequent ability to command forward a blade, a façade you wish to sustain.

“I’ll handle it,” Ying’er says before you can contemplate your options another second. You nod, an unspoken appreciation etched onto your countenance. The details of your circumstances were purposefully murky and she never presses. Whatever conclusions Ying’er has come to, you prefer it stays that way, not wanting to upset the delicate balance that is your current life.

You straighten out her collar which had wrinkled. “Call me if anything’s wrong.”

Ying’er winks reassuringly and presses her hands over yours, the touch featherlight. “I’m a fearsome opponent, no one would dare cross me.”

Let’s hope that’s true, you think. Frowning, you observe her retreating figure, taking caution to remain out of sight. Ying’er steps out of the backroom, the thick wooden door closing loudly behind her. You keen your ears to listen, cursing internally over how the thick walls muffle their voices. Her voice is one you instantly recognize, but the other belongs to someone with a deeper timbre. Your boss is an elderly woman, so that rules her out. A Millieth, perhaps?

You’re not left waiting for long, much to your relief. Ying’er pops her head back in a few minutes later.

“It was just a returning customer who was pleased with his latest commission, the one you helped me with no less. He had nothing but high praises for it!”

Waves of relief crash over you, but your senses remain on high alert.

“I’m happy to hear that. Still, how did he manage to get in? Didn’t you lock up for the night?” You inquire, hoping you don’t sound overly paranoid. In the back of your mind, you can’t fully discount the idea that it’s him, the thought alone enough to have you shaking in place.

“Must’ve forgotten or something,” she shrugs. You let out a breath you were holding in at her nonchalance, it seems plausible given her airheaded nature. “By the way, Yun, can we work on the perfume in the morning? I just realized how tired I am.”

“Of course. It has been a long day... I’ll finish things up here, go home and get some rest.”

Ying’er waves and wishes you a good night.

It’s now your turn to slump onto the ground, grasping your chest when your knees hit the floor. Deep breaths, deep breaths, you tell yourself. Everything is going to be okay.

This peaceful existence that you’ve fought tooth and nail to build for yourself… the only way it could ever get be stolen from your hands is if air no longer filled your lungs. Your fingers travel underneath the foreign fabric of your Liyue garments, the warmth of your pulsating Vision giving you solace. Tending to the last few chores, your subconscious drifts elsewhere, to an island beyond the sea. What is it you would be doing this time of day again? Ironically enough, you realize you’d be working with incense as you are now, but for different reasons. The reason you excel with curating incense to produce the best aroma is because you were trained to do so.

Your work now is your lifeblood, giving you enough to scrape by undetected. Those days, however, were a different story. It constituted survival like now, but to a far more humiliating degree. It was expected of you to perform your duties with grace and discipline. You would retire early to your shared chambers, prepare and burn your husband’s favorite incense, and fuss over your appearance in the vanity. Then you would loosen the sash of your obi, just enough so that if it had been a frustrating day, he could lose himself in your body for a momentary escape. Those customs had been ingrained into your mind. Had you needed to, you’re certain you could’ve done everything with your eyes closed from memory.

You head for the back exit. Surely, your past self would be thrilled to know your meticulous plans had come to fruition. All those smiles through gritted teeth, submissive language, and patience that could rival that of a god… everything was worth it.

Now you’re no longer the number Six of the Fatui's Eleven Harbingers’ spouse. You’ve taken the identity of Yun, a Visionless worker for a perfume shop in Liyue, everyday defined by freedom. To do as you please, go where you please, speak to who you please. The little details that were stolen from you by his hands return like tentative buds in spring.

You’ve yet to fully assimilate with Liyue’s cuisine, but it’s steadily growing on you. Maybe you’ll make an Inazuma-inspired dish tonight? In the months that have passed, you’ve found a taste for your nation’s food coming back. So as not to repeat Ying’er’s mistake, you double-check the backdoor’s locks, finding it is as it should be. Behind the humble shop is an alley which you use to creep back home. It’s best not to risk traveling out in the open if you can avoid it, you never know what eyes might be hiding in plain sight.

“Liyue apparel compliments you very well.”

With the speed of a descending phoenix, you pivot on your heel, summoning your weapon and pressing it to the jugular of whoever spoke just now. Squinting, your eyes take a few long seconds to adjust. Once they do, your body feels like it’s being drug into the underworld, the air in your lungs forced out. This man… you’ve seen him before. He gives you an all teeth grin, azure eyes swirling with delight and face contorting in amusement.

You remain steadfast through your bewilderment. “Try and scream and I’ll slit your throat.”

“I’m not much of a screamer,” Childe replies, laughing as if the situation was comical. “It’s good to see you too, [First]. Never thought I’d happen upon an old face in Liyue. I knew I recognized that unique combination of perfume, looks like I was right.”

It hits you that this is the first time you’ve heard your actual name in months. How Childe says it doesn’t feel right, he utters it with familiarity. Though, from what you remember, he’s never been known for having boundaries. Scaramouche would complain about his conduct for hours if given the opportunity. This would be the first time you’ve spoken with him, not from a lack of trying on his behalf. When Childe paid a visit to your husband’s estate, you were expected to be present at the start of their meetings. They would discuss business together while you stood there and looked easy on the eyes. Occasionally, you would refill their tea, but that was all you were permitted to do.

The look Scaramouche shot Childe when the latter tried speaking with you was enough to give you nightmares for days.

“What… what are you going to do now?” You murmur, anticipating the worst. This isn’t going to end well no matter what. If Fatui are in Liyue, that means Childe’s likely told someone where he was going; meaning that him going missing would be suspicious and warrant an investigation. On the other hand, who is to say he won’t just return you to Scaramouche if you let him live? You doubt your tears and pleading would have any effect on the youngest Harbinger. He’s similar to your husband — acting altruistic and kind — only to show their true colors when it suits them best.

“Right now? I’m trying not to get my throat slit,” he raises an eyebrow like that was the most obvious answer.

You bite your lower lip. “We both know you could get out of this hold if you wanted to.”

“Emphasis on the ‘if I wanted to’ part. As of right now, I don’t believe I do, being held by you is rather enjoyable,” Childe tests the waters by moving forward, humming in contentment when you lessen your grip as not to slice through his skin. “See? You’ve never even killed someone before. Call it intuition, but I don’t think you could.”

He reconsiders the proposition for a second. “Well, maybe if it was him...”

“You’re as insufferable as I remember,” you hiss, imbuing heat into your blade. Childe barely backs off and the unspoken threat. “Everyone who refuses to take me seriously comes to regret it.”

“Don’t worry, I fully agree with that. The Balladeer reduced you to nothing but a pretty little ornament. He underestimated you and this is the consequence.” Childe has an easier time maintaining eye contact than you do. It’s another minute detail that expresses the gap in your experience. You may be adequately trained in combat, but that pales in comparison when faced with a trained killer. This sorry charade will end the moment he wants it to.

Hate floods through your veins like venom. He’s looking down on you, just in a different way than how your husband would. Where Scaramouche was condescending and sadistic, Childe is brutally honest and teasing. It’s a split-second decision on your behalf, one motivated by the desire to prove this smug bastard wrong more than self-preservation. You loosen your grip on him and jump back. It’s not a lot of space, however, it should be enough to allow you room to react when he strikes.

He goes silent. It’s painfully obvious that he’s trying to get a read on you, now that you’re veering into unexpected territory.

“You were waiting for an opening, weren’t you?” Your words come out with more strength than you thought possible, deep from the chest and guttural. “Well, here you go. It’s the best you’re going to get.”

Childe blinks. Once, twice. His shoulders start to tremble, his chest following soon after, and he lifts his gloved hand to cover his mouth. Hearty laughter leaves his lips and pierces your self-esteem. You don’t understand what’s so humorous to him — though you’re well aware these Harbingers hold no humanity — repulsion flooding your system. This feels nostalgic in the worst ways possible. Early on in your marriage, Scaramouche would regard your resistance with a similar air of blatant dismissal, like your protests were nothing but a tantrum.

“You were wasted with him,” Childe’s loathsome cackling dies down, a maniacal grin splitting his face ear to ear. “Now I understand… the way you’re looking at me now is chilling. Exciting. In what ways have you evolved to survive? I love the fight in you, unlike him. Your adaptability is remarkable, like that of the most cunning prey. ”

Prey. The dehumanizing word makes you frown, yet you remain firm in your stance. This is the best chance, you think, now that you’ve managed to surprise him once. There’s plenty more where that came from. Tendrils of molten flames, like they were stolen from the sun itself, would make for a considerable challenge. Harbinger or not, he should know better than to charge in without thinking twice when you hold a Pyro Vision.

His face returns to a more casual visage and he waves his hand. “I never had any intention of bringing you back to Inazuma. You think a Mora reward would be a good enough motivator for me to do that?”

“T-then why are you here?” You challenge, ever the skeptic. Childe can weave a tale of lies as much as he wants. That doesn’t mean you’ll allow yourself to be ensnared in it.

“I wanted to see how you’d react,” his nonchalant admission leaves you speechless. “Needless to say, you didn’t disappoint. A pretty face with the feist to match. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

“Oh, fuck off with that,” you snarl, your vision almost going red from the fury holding you hostage. Now that you no longer need to play the subservient partner, vulgarities come to you with ease, and you have no shortage of them for this blight in the flesh.

Childe’s smile widens. “No can do, I’m afraid. My curiosity has gotten the better of me this time. Could I tame you? Break your spirit better than he did? So show me your resolve to be free, sweet [First].”

He readies himself and you do as well. It’s in the dull illumination of the overhead lanterns that you realize there is no light in his eyes. How fitting, you think. That even his body has come to accept his lack of humanity.

“Go on. I’ll give you a ten second head start. After that... well, you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

#childe #childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #scaramouche x reader #tartaglia #scaramouche genshin impact #yandere scaramouche x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact imagine #my stuff

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bestialchorus · 3 years

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DATING YOUR ALT VAMPIRE GIRLFRIEND WOULD INCLUDE:

-Getting introduced to her as the new artist to join your go-to tattoo shop. You instantly felt a magnetic attraction to her, as if your inner soul demanded, no, needed, to step through the world behind those stunning eyes. As you admired your fresh tattoo, she almost out of no where appeared to your side and invited you to get a coffee with her then and there (you may have more than accepted, perhaps even stuttered a bit but she seemed to have found it endearing)

-Her apartment feeling like your second home. Everything from her large candle collection, family of plants, esoteric but tasteful design style bring you comfort.

-Her body not reflecting the inhuman strength she has, she often carries you to the bedroom bridal style and you’re always surprised of how little you weight to her.

-Feeling euphoria whenever she feeds on you during times of intimacy. You feel most connected to her then as it requires a high level of love and trust from both parties.

-Regardless of how long you date she always has a courting mentality and will find ways to both spoil you but also make you crave her (as if you needed anymore reasons). One day you come home from work and she’s waiting for you in her signature chair, wearing brand new lingerie (and red at that). She takes your stunned expression as a positive sign but still coyly asks, “it’s a bit much isn’t it? Perhaps I should return it to the store.” You almost short circuited then and there.

-You going on art exhibition dates as she has a passion and eye for all things visual. She loves holding on to your arm as you both admire a piece. She somehow knows the history of every piece you see.

-Her helping you study by promising a kiss for every question you get right and you suddenly feeling complete determination. By the end of the session you could be an ad for her favourite lipstick brand.

-Sitting on her roof’s apartment to stargaze and have deep discussions about the meaning of life and what it means to be alive. You quickly learn she’s a romanticist at heart.

-Her going full Gomez Addams every Valentine’s day for you. Somehow she finds a way to top herself every year.

-Her delicately running the edges of her fangs over you as she nips and kisses your flesh. She’ll repeat over and over again of how selfish you make her feel, how she craves you like no other, her beautiful language makes your head swim further.

-Her reading you some of her favourite poetry passages when you’re just lounging around together. It often ends with her getting caught up in the words while looking at you, chucking the book to the side and crashing her lips against yours. (Since you started dating her you’ve found a new respect for poetry for several reasons….)

-Her watching vampire media with you and often finding most depictions silly at first but always somehow becoming invested by the end of the narrative (and usually more than you for that matter).

-Her running the most extravagant and relaxing bubble baths for you to share. She loves washing your hair and lathering your skin with essential oils.

-Commonly going to a coffee shop together to finish up any work. You’re often finishing up homework while she’s sketching up a design for a client. Her espresso drink compliments your frappe.

-One day, you’re sitting in her car and enjoying music like normal but something is off this time. Her eyes have been lingering on you, a mixture of mischief and something more behind her eyes. You almost feel like prey under a predator’s gaze and similarly have no where to run. Without even touching you, her intense gaze starts to make you dizzy and your cheeks warm. You finally see that signature smirk appear and without warning she lowers your seat back. She straddles you with ease and tilts her head as she looks down at you and licks her lips. She begins rubbing herself against you, making her intentions clear. She leans down to whisper against you ear, her voice already lost to lust, “do you want me to stop? We could-“ and something about the question makes something inside you snap. You shut her up but immediately gripping her behind and pushing her further against you. To this day, few sounds come close to her whimpers.

#sometime quick for halloween #vampire #vampires #vampire x reader #wlw #blood #lesbian vampire #monster fucker #hc #headcanons #vampire gf #vampire girlfriend

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its-tiamat · 2 years

Text

|| CHANGING PLANS 4 ||

Ok, I've finally arrived at the part in which I explain what's going on. Finally. Hope u like it bbys <3 Also I have finals in like, less than a month so idk how long it'll take me to update more T-T

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo × fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing (#LetBakugoSayFuck #AndReaderIsWorse)

CHAPTER 1 ♧ NEXT

masterlist

That afternoon, Bakugo worked on his homework. Or at least, he tried. Math had never been his favorite subject, but it had never felt this hard to focus on the long row of numbers, that was now spinning on the sheet of paper.

He shut the math book without completing a single exercise. Fuck it. His day had already been stressful enough. He could solve them later, or tomorrow.

He went straight to the small bathroom, and started filling his bathtub with hot water.

He needed it. The warmth of the water always managed to work off the tension in his muscles and calm his nerves, while opening his pores and allowing a better flow of his quirk.

He added a couple of drops of essential oil to his bathtub. Kirishima would have picked on him if he had known, it probably wasn't masculine enough for him.

Wait. Who gave a shit about what shitty hair thought with his stupid head?

Bakugo started taking off his clothes, and found himself staring at the mirror. A blonde boy was frowning back at him, clenching his fists, gritting his teeth. He was the personification of stress.

As soon as his skin entered in contact with the warm water, he started to feel better. He took a deep breath.

What the fuck had happened that morning?

He should have just gone back to his room. He should have gone back to his room, done his homework, and worked out by himself. Why did he even think of hanging out with you? He should have said he was busy. He didn't even gave a damn about the market and about your little stupid list of groceries.

Right?

He closed his eyes, but scenes of what had happened at the market kept playing in his head.

He really didn't want to think about it.

He knew crowds had that effect on him. They always did. But he must had already been feeling bad, cause they never made him feel like complete shit. He must have already been nervous for something else.

You.

You made him nervous.

The way you carried yourself, the sweet tone in your voice when you called him, your eyes when-

No. He was just making up stuff. For fuck's sake, he wanted to slap himself so bad!

He dipped his head in the water, trying to drown his thoughts. Idiot, stupid idiot! Why was he feeling so weak? There was no way, no way he'd lose his cold because of this.

Because of you.

He was so tired of acting like a coward.

He wasn't the only one about to lose his head and slap someone. In Mina's room, the air was so tense you could cut it with a knife.

"You didn't mean to do it?" You roared at your three friends sitting on the bed. "That's fucking bullshit, ok?"

Mina was looking down at her hands, while Kirishima seemed super interested in a spot on the wall at his right. Kaminari, squeezing a pillow in his arms, was the only one that still dared to look at you and talk back.

"Ok, maybe we did mean to do it. But even so?"

"Even so? Even so what? Even so I had the most embarrassing time of my life!"

"Yeah but it worked." Said Mina, finally lifting her eyes.

Kaminari turned to look at her: "Did it really?"

You threw one of Mina's shoes at him.

"You don't even believe in your own fucking plan, you piece of-"

"It wasn't my idea!"

"Then who the fuck thought of it, huh?"

Both your friend stared at Kirishima. Was it his doing, in the end?

"Why are you guys selling me out like this?" whispered him. "I mean, you all wanted it to happen, I just gave you a plan that I knew could work."

So it was him. "Why would that shit work?"

"Cause I've already seen it work!"

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? When?"

He mumbled something, intelligible. You kept staring at him. "I saw it in a movie, ok?"

"In. A. MOVIE!?"

"It seemed like a good plan! He likes you, you like him, you go on a date! That's how it works!" Said him defensively. Then he went back to staring at the wall.

For a moment you felt the wave of rage receding. Did you really look that desperate? Were you really unable to ask anybody out? How could they even be sure Bakugo-

"How are you even sure Bakugo likes me?"

"Kaminari asked him, I think." Shrugged it off your best friend. But Kaminari was turning pale.

"I didn't."

Mina hit him on the shoulder. "You said you did!"

"Well, I did! But he didn't answer! You know how hard it is to talk to him!"

"You must have asked it in such a stupid way! It was your third of the job, Kami!" Mina started arguing with his friend, and they would have started a fistfight probably, if you didn't throw another one of Mina's shoes at them.

"Stop acting like fucking kindergarteners," you said "this is shit. You even divided the work in thirds like if it were a fucking school project, honestly, what the fuck. So you had this genius idea" You said looking at Kirishima, then turned to Kaminari "And you decided Bakugo liked me based on what? Your famous intuition? You."

You pointed at Mina. "Your third would be?"

"I had to get everyone to play along." She said, and looked back down at her hands, that were now holding a pair of shoes.

"And everyone includes who?"

"Just, everyone," she said. Her voice started trembling. "I talked with every member of our class, and made sure they didn't get in the way, and made sure they left you alone this morning and made sure you could meet, I-"

She took a slow breath, trying to stop her voice from cracking.

"I just hoped it would make you happy. I'm so sorry, I swear."

You sat on the bed. Kaminari tightened his grasp on the pillow. "It was a stupid idea. It was just stupid. Stop crying. You know I'm forgiving you. Stop crying, Mina. Just, never do this again."

"I'm sorry too," mumbled Kirishima. You gave him a small smile.

"I'm not sorry at all, sorry 'bout it." said Kaminari.

You glared at him. You felt your blood boiling in your veins.

"Come on, stop looking at me like that! You and Bakugo are both too awkward and full of yourselves to make the first move. Somebody had to do something!"

Mina hit him again: "Apologise, you dumbass."

"I will apologise when one of them finds the courage to ask the other one out, so probably never."

"Do whatever the fuck you want, shithead." You snarled. You realized you sounded just like Katsuki. You tried to relax yourself.

"Guys, it was awkward as hell. God, did all the class really play along? Did Sero tie up Mr. Aizawa to keep him away from the common hall or what?" you joked.

Silence fell again in the room. Nobody took the risk of answering your question. And you were starting to figure out why.

"You didnt," you said while trying to catch a glimpse of at least one of your friends' eyes. "Please, tell me you didn't involve him too."

"It was Mina's do!" said Kirishima, and you felt the blood flow in your cheeks increase. Of course. Only Mina would be able to talk Mr. Aizawa into this sort of stuff.

"I really want to disappear." You said, and laid face down on the mattress. Mina gently pat your back: "Yeah, today was kinda stressful. At least you had a nice date, right?"

"Shut up."

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#mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugo #mha bakugo #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo fluff

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