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yandere-daydreams · 26 days

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Title: Unending.

Continuation of Undeterred.

Pairing: Furina x Reader (+Arlecchino) [Genshin].

Word Count: 1.1k.

TW: Mentions of Consensual Sex and Melodramatic Lesbians. Live Dove: Tender and Sweet.

[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]

Furina had not been made to be loved.

It was an unfortunate truth she’d come to terms within the first decade of her being. As an archon, she’d received adoration. As a performer and a director, she knew appraise. She’d experienced things like love, things that came very close, but never love itself. Her creator had not loved her, no more than Focalors had loved any of the people she’d come so close to dooming, and even those she’d been close to as a goddess were no more able to love her than a member of the audience would be able to love a starring actress. And that was the way it should be, she was able to convince herself on her best days. There was no point yearning for things that could never be. What had she ever done to be worthy of love, in the first place?

“My lady?”

She didn’t stir at the sound of your footsteps, only leaning more of her weight onto the balcony guardrail and throwing the quickest, slightest glance over her shoulder. You were a sight – hair thoroughly tussled, discolored bruising in the shape of Lord Arlecchino’s teeth painted down either side of your throat, a robe of ivory silk pulled loose over your body – but she was sure that she was no better, herself. The insatiable exhaustion that seemed to drape itself over her perpetually was now paired with a distinct ache in her shoulders, a soreness at the base of her throat. It would be worse in the morning, although shame would’ve started to soften the night’s harsher edges, by them.

You didn’t ask before taking a seat next to her and thrusting a porcelain chalice into her lap. “More wine?” she asked, taking it up reflexively.

“Water,” you corrected, settling into place beside her. “I thought you might want to start chipping away at tomorrow’s burden.”

Only half-consciously, Furina found herself smiling. She’d always been fond of that side of the human mind – always so considerate, even when the slanted angle of your posture and the slight limp in your step made it clear you’d rather still be in bed. Gods, like her, were rarely so selfless.

Only, she wasn’t a god anymore. She’d never been, really – only an actress preforming the role of one.

She stopped herself before could spiral any further.

You’d rather be in bed, she retreated back to, instead. Furina was sure of it. That was where she’d left you – Arlecchino’s face still buried between your thighs, your hands balling at her silk sheets in pleasure. It was a good match – you and Arlecchino, two brilliant minds hidden behind cruel tongues and beautiful faces. She could only hope that, once you took your rightful place at the Harbinger’s side, you’d remember to write her a letter every now and then. “You really should start packing,” she muttered, absent-mindedly. “I think I remember Lord Arlecchino mentioning that her ship leaves at dawn.”

You hummed. “And where would I be sailing away to, my lady?”

“…Snezhnaya? That is, unless she has obligations elsewhere.”

Another hum, a quick shake of your head. “Snezhnaya’s far too cold at this time of year. If it were Mondstadt, maybe, but for Snezhnaya, I’m afraid I’d never be able to force myself off the boat. Fontaine’s climate is much more agreeable.”

Her lips quirked downward. “Don’t patronize me, I—” Her voice cut out, abruptly. It was a fight to summon it again, but she soldiered on. “I know her interest in you is genuine. You’d be a fool not to leave with her.” You opened your mouth, but she only raised her voice. “If you’re afraid of leaving me alone, don’t be. I—I can manage on my own, and—”

She grit her teeth, clenching her eyes shut. In an instant, your hand was on her shoulder, your side pressed into her arm, but she refused to let herself fall back into the familiar haven of your comfort. “And,” she managed, eventually, even if her voice was weak, her tone dangerously close to tipping into something suitably pathetic. “It’s not as if I’m an archon, anymore. You don’t have to keep pretending you like being around me.”

You let a moment pass by in silence, then another.

Finally, you said, “It’s true that Lord Arlecchino is very charming.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, just—”

“And her prowess on the battlefield and at the war-table can’t be overstated.”

“Well, it’s unfair to compare—”

“And I’m sure her salary as a Harbinger would make it so that I never had to lift a finger for as long as I choose to stay with her.”

“Alright, I never asked to you to do all that—”

“But,” you went on, your hand falling onto her own and squeezing, gently. “I’m afraid I’ve already sent her away. I doubt it’ll last, but for the moment, she seems assured of my total and utter inability to reciprocate her affection.”

Furina couldn’t help but blanch. “You sent her—Why? She’s so handsome, and tall, and—”

“And I’m not in love with her.” You slumped against her, your exhaustion shining through your low-brewing mirth. “It’s awful, honestly. It’s a terrible waste, honestly. I’m afraid the girl who’s truly stolen my heart is far too oblivious to ever notice me.”

Her eyes widened. It was in turn to take your hand, now, to snap towards you – her fatigue instantly replaced with curiosity. “You’re in love with someone? Who? Why haven’t you told me?”

Your only response was a slight smile, an airy laugh. Your eyes darted up to meet hers, and Furina felt her cheeks start to burn. “Oh.”

“I know,” you said, with another breathy chuckle. “Like I said, it’s terrible.”

Oh.

It felt like a stupid thing to ask. It was a stupid thing to ask, but her hand was shaking by the time it found your cheek and her throat felt dry and it was all she could do to make herself say anything at all. “Can I…?”

She couldn’t finish, but she didn’t have to. Your mouth was already crashing into hers, the kiss more tender than any other form of intimacy she’d experienced that night, any other form of affection her immortality had ever seen fit to afford her. She felt tears start to prick at the corners of her eyes, something dry and choking begin to swell at the base of her throat, but she choked it down, melting against you.

Furina, the archon, had not been meant to be loved.

And yet, there was still a chance that Furina, the human, might turn out differently.

#woman loving wednesday #on saturday #(i know i'm late i'm sorry)#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact imagines #furina #furina x reader #furina x you #genshin furina

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arinewman7 · 5 months

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On Saturday

Johnson Ocheja

Acrylic and Oil linen, 2023

#Johnson Ocheja #art #artist #painter #painting #On Saturday

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hippolotamus · 1 year

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Fuck it Fraturday

Besties, it has been a day. I was tagged by the lovely @alyxmastershipper @spotsandsocks @ajunerose @elvensorceress and @shortsighted-owl 🥰 And, hey, it is still Friday... somewhere. As I went rummaging for this week's post I learned something about myself. Apparently I have a thing for starting mid-season spec fics, not finishing them, and naming them for Taylor Swift lyrics. So there's that useless trivia for you. Anyway, I cleaned up (to the best of my sleepy ability) my S5 offering I'm reaching for you, terrified

bon appetit, my loves 😘

I’m leaving the 118.

Buck has had his oxygen tank run out, he’s been caught in more natural disasters than he’d prefer, and trapped under a ladder truck. Among other things. Those agonizing memories pale in comparison to what he feels now, hearing Eddie’s announcement. He's a mix of breathless and numb and tingling pinpricks dancing over his skin. Of too much and not enough and loss.

Eddie is… casual? Neutral? As if he’s told them he’s only leaving town for a few days, but he’ll be right back. Except – will he? Buck doesn’t know.

For the span of a single heartbeat Buck hates Eddie with everything he can muster. If someone were to ask – in this infinitesimal moment in time – he would swear that he undeniably, viscerally hates him. It would only be true for that moment, of course. But also not true at all. Buck only believes it because he’s feeling trapped. Caught between containing his feelings in a twisted sense of maintaining decorum, and wanting to scream. A buildup of pressure that quickly manifests as shuddering breaths, wide eyes and trembling fists clenched at his side.

Irrational as it may be, this is worse, he decides, than clawing at unforgiving mud. Worse than feeling Eddie’s still warm blood spatter on his skin. Worse than hearing Mitchell Trent’s gun fire without knowing who was on the receiving end. Those were all times Buck thought he could lose his best friend, but they were external forces. The result of being in the wrong place at the wrong time while doing their jobs. This, though… this is coming directly from Eddie. Eddie, who just moments ago, was hugging Bobby by the grill.

A selfish stream of thoughts comes to his mind unbidden. Did Bobby know? Before now? He’s their captain, but why should he be the first to find out? Why does he get the news semi-privately and Buck learns alongside Hen? Maybe because you’ve been too busy playing the loving boyfriend to the first person to say ‘I love you’.

“E-Eddie?” Buck’s voice sounds far away, even to himself. It reminds him of how he would quietly seek out Maddie to patch up his latest injury before their parents could catch on.

“What-” A thousand questions, that he can’t seem to articulate with actual words, catch in his throat. Buck has to force himself to look at Eddie and hope his pleading gaze can ask for him. That’s when he finally sees it. The now obvious pain emanating from behind the mask of feigned indifference.

Then the words ‘for Christopher’ register. And Buck can’t believe he’s been so self-centered by not considering Chris before now. He’s overwhelmed with thoughts of inside jokes, endless optimism, baking experiments, movie nights, trips to the zoo and a smile that radiates pure fucking sunshine.

Does Chris even know yet? Has Eddie considered that their dynamic might change? That schedules won’t align as perfectly, or interactions could become awkward if Eddie shuts himself off.

Bobby and Athena, the enormous Christmas tree, Karen, Denny, Christopher… it all swirls into one blended image that has him swaying. He thinks someone shouts his name, sees Eddie reach out. His field of vision narrows, rapidly fading to black. The cool grass presses against his skin, until he’s not sensing anything at all.

*****

Buck blinks once, twice. He squints at the thin ray of sun that’s made its way through the crowd gathered around him. Hen, Bobby and Eddie hover overhead, poking, prodding, and performing a sternal rub.

“Ow!”

“Oh, good. You’re awake,” Hen says dryly, easing him back down when he tries to sit. “Stay still.”

“‘M fine.” He tries again, but a different hand – with a touch he would know if he were blind – firmly holds him in place.

“Buck?” Christopher sidles up next to Eddie, carefully lowering himself to the ground. “It’ll be okay. I can hold your hand if you want.” The words are so innocent, given so freely, Buck wants to cry. Instead, he sniffs and swallows down the emotions, taking Christopher’s small hand in his own.

“Thanks, buddy. I’d like that.” Buck actively avoids looking at Eddie. It’s too much like staring at the sun on a cloudy day, muted but still overwhelming.

Christopher grasps Buck’s hand while Hen takes his vitals and verifies he’s okay. As okay as he’s going to be, anyway.

“Alright, Buckaroo. Sit here for a few minutes. If you’re feeling stable then we’ll help you stand up.”

“Hen-” he starts to protest.

“I said what I said, Buckley. Don’t push it. I can just as easily turn this into IVs and recommend continuous monitoring.”

“Aye aye, Dr. Wilson.” Buck lets out an exasperated sigh and lets Hen and Bobby help him sit. He’s still avoiding looking at Eddie even though he can feel the gaze boring into him. The crowd starts to dissipate, apparently satisfied that everything is fine. Christopher throws his arms around Buck, burying his face into his neck.

“See, Buck? I told you it would be okay.”

“Never doubted you for a second, buddy.” He rubs his thumb back and forth, lets his fingers thread through Christopher’s curls, breathes in the warm comfort that never fails to slow his pulse and calm his nerves.

“Hey, mijo? Let’s give Buck some air. I think he and I have some things to talk about.”

“Okay, Dad.” Christopher reluctantly loosens his grip, but not before Buck presses a kiss into his hair and squeezes him tight before sending him on his way.

Eddie reaches out, extending a hand for Buck to grab onto, like an anchor. When he stands, Buck simultaneously wants to run away and throw himself into Eddie like Christopher had done to him. He wants to storm off and be held while he falls apart against Eddie’s chest. Instead he wordlessly follows to the relative quiet of the street, sheltered behind Eddie’s truck.

“Buck,” Eddie starts to say. Except Buck interrupts, too impatient and on edge to wait his turn.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Eds?”

Eddie stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks at the ground, scuffing his shoe against the street. He eventually meets Buck’s gaze and there’s no pretense there, no mask. Just Eddie.

“Today was my first chance to talk to Cap about it. And I wanted to tell him first. Because I knew if I went to you first, you would talk me out of it. But,” – Eddie puts a hand on Buck’s shoulder and he’s not sure if it’s more for his own reassurance or Eddie’s – “you have to know this is for Christopher. I need him to know that he doesn’t have to worry about coming home one day to find out I’m not there. So he can stop having nightmares, and worrying that some lunatic is gonna take me out because they can’t handle their own shit.”

Bile creeps up Buck’s throat and Eddie’s hand feels less like a comfort and more like a crushing weight. Because he’s watched Eddie nearly die, wide-eyed and gasping for breath, and it could still happen somewhere else. Somewhere Buck can’t be to keep an eye on him, leap into action, make sure he’s safe. “Does Christopher know?”

“Not yet. I was going to tell him tonight.”

Buck nods slowly, grateful he isn’t the last person to find out. “And what about us?”

“What about-“ Eddie looks at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean,” Buck says, more defensive than he intends, “is you had this whole thing about the family you’re born into, and the family you choose. Made a big deal about promising we wouldn’t drift apart if we didn’t work together anymore. Can you still say that?”

Eddie had friends in the Army, in Texas, that he never talks about. Who’s to say Buck, and the rest of the 118, won’t be replaced by whoever comes next? Eddie and Christopher have become a force in Buck’s life at least as strong as Bobby and Maddie. They’re part of a core group of people who look after him, care how he’s doing, and make sure he doesn’t fuck up too badly. They’re his family. Buck can’t lose them. He can’t.

“I did promise. And I meant it- I mean it. I’ll even—” Eddie pauses, huffing out a humorless laugh. “I’ll even pinkie promise if you want.”

Buck’s eyes widen as he gasps and lifts a hand to his chest like a scandalized maiden. “Pinkie promises are sacred, Eds.”

“I know. And you know I think they’re ridiculous. I am only doing this for you.” Eddie’s hand slides off Buck’s shoulder and he extends his little finger out as an offering.

Buck tentatively holds his own out, intertwining it with Eddie’s. They curl together and Buck can’t stop staring, committing the sight to memory. He wants the image branded into his mind until his heart beats for the last time, until he takes his final breath. Wants to remember this moment when Eddie swore he wouldn’t abandon him.

Eddie pulls him into a hug, wrapping one hand around Buck’s waist, unwilling to let their pinkies separate. The gesture means more than Buck could ever put into words.

“What are we hugging about?!” Christopher barrels towards them as fast as his legs can carry him. Buck isn’t even sorry about the interruption. He welcomes it, knowing that having all three of them together can only make the moment more complete. Buck and Eddie part just enough to wrap him into the fold.

Christopher throws one arm around each of them and Buck doesn’t think he’s ever felt this loved by anyone besides Maddie. His heart feels so full he thinks he might burst. He loves Christopher. He loves Eddie, has loved Eddie. In a way he’s always acknowledged as platonic, familial. He’s never allowed himself to think beyond that. There’s always been a reason to shut it down and not get his hopes up. Ali, Shannon, Ana, Taylor.

Buck can’t even pinpoint when the lines began to blur between friend, family and more. Loving Eddie was a slow, creeping thing that wrapped around him, gradually entwining them together. Buck only realized once he was too attached to even entertain separating himself. Like ivy that climbs up a building, bonding to it so there’s a mark if it’s ever ripped away.

He tells Taylor he loves her, but it’s not the same. Not like this. He remembers freezing the first time she said the words, unsure if it sounded wrong because it was coming from her, or because it was coming from anyone at all. Buck always imagined saying ‘I love you, too’ would be easy when someone finally admitted to loving him. And it is - easy. But at the same time it still feels foreign rolling off his tongue. Too practiced and eager.

“Hey,” Eddie murmurs. “Do you want to be there tonight? When I tell him?”

Tears sting the corners of Buck’s eyes, already threatening to spill over. Of course he wants to be there. He always wants to be a part of anything with Chris and Eddie. His Diaz boys. But, this- this seems like a moment that should be between father and son. Too intimate for Buck to be involved.

“Are you sure? I don’t think-“

“You don’t think what?” Eddie interjects. “That he won’t be texting or calling you the second we’re done talking? That he won’t ask what you think about all this? Don’t think. Just come. Please.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose and furrows his brow – barely visible, like he didn’t want Buck to notice – and bites his bottom lip. “Unless you have… other plans. I should’ve asked first. Maybe you have something with...” He trails off, waving his hand dismissively.

“No,” Buck shakes his head adamantly, saving Eddie the trouble. “She can wait. I want to be there. For Christopher.”

“For Christopher,” Eddie repeats, nodding thoughtfully.

“What’s for me?” The younger Diaz finally pipes up, eyes shining behind the glare of his glasses.

“Uh, I’m coming over after the party to hang with you,” Buck says. “Obviously.”

Christopher whoops and pumps his fist in the air. “Are you staying to make pancakes in the morning?”

“If it’s okay with your dad.” Buck looks to Eddie, seeking permission he’s already 87% certain he’ll get.

Eddie studies him for a moment, as if he doesn’t understand why it would ever be an issue. Then he smiles, the stupidly fond private one he saves just for Buck and Chris. “Obviously,” he finally answers.

Their embrace becomes more snug as Eddie exhales a content sigh and rests his forehead against Buck’s. It feels like home and safety. Like a place he could stay. Like a thing he could keep.

#fuck it friday #on saturday #hippo writes #maybe i'll clean this up more someday #and now i snooze

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bloomingsalma · 5 months

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tummy hurts. I hate my period :(

#literally why #and I have a test tomorrow #oN SATURDAY #sigh :(#at least I will go to an artists + small businesses market after :D #though watch it all be too expensive for me D:

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mikkimadison · 6 days

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Circus 2 for WIP Wednesday!

Makoto couldn't help it. He laughed. "Really? You never forget anything."

#m answers #zyrafowe-sny #wip wednesday #on saturday #m writes

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holy-rarepairs-batman · 25 days

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every time I see my notifications say "so many SUPER boops!" I hear it in my nephew's voice in my head bc he's got this thing now about saying "so many" to mean anything more than one, and then I get really excited bc it's like he's excited for me to get booped hfjdjsh

#he just turned 4 guys #on Saturday #i could cRY he's so BIG now!!!!

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mauriacs · 1 year

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so real

#more lawrenceposting #essay abt him due at 1pm have not written it yet. what even ever #this is how i will feel if anyone does the fucking pledge of allegiance #on saturday #5 hours later edit: i have still not written it

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starlitangels · 2 years

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WIP Not-Wednesday!!!

I’ve been tagged by @gingerbreadmonsters ! Have a little WIP of the Sam sleep-aid featuring Micah rather than Darlin’!

—

The now-familiar sound of shifting magic woke Sam from his sleep. His eyes snapped open and he turned, expecting the other side of the bed to be empty.

But his mate was still there, sleeping soundly. Eyes closed and face relaxed.

Sam took a deep breath. “Micah…” he sighed.

With one smooth, swift movement, he swung out of bed and replaced the covers. His mate didn’t wake up. They’d gotten used to his nocturnal habits getting him out of bed randomly and often slept right through it, if they weren’t awake with him.

He thought, at first, as he crept out of their bedroom, that he’d have to take off out of the house at top speed in order to catch up with his daughter.

But as he snuck down the stairs to not wake his mate, he caught something he hadn’t expected to see out of the corner of his eye.

A large grey-and-black wolf curled up on the floor in front of the fireplace, head resting on front paws. Amber eyes half-lidded but glowering at the wall. Wearing a pair of short athletic shorts and a black tank top. “Micah?” Sam asked gently, padding down the last few steps of the stairs.

The wolf’s head popped off her paws.

Sam crossed the living room and sat, cross-legged, on the floor beside her. He reached out and set a hand on her head, scratching behind her ear. He heard the happy whine she mostly stifled as she leaned into the touch.

“What’re ya doin’ on the floor as a wolf this late?” Sam asked.

She huffed what was almost a sneeze out her nose, shaking her head.

“Why don’t you turn back into my little girl and we can talk?”

Micah rolled her eyes, but pushed herself up onto all fours and sat on her haunches.

A moment later, a fourteen-year-old girl with wavy vibrant blue hair was kneeling on the floor beside him.

“What’s wrong, little darlin’?”

“You haven’t called me that in a while,” she muttered.

Sam opened his arms. Micah immediately climbed into her dad’s lap and let him wrap her up in a hug. She put one arm around him too, resting her head on his chest. “Let me guess. One of those nights you just can’t sleep?” he suggested.

She nodded. “Yeah,” she replied quietly. “I’ve been tossing and turning for hours.”

—

Tagging @zozo-01 @floofdeloop @romirola

#wip wednesday #on Saturday #Pups AU #Micah Collins #Sam Collins #Redacted Sam

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woohooincoffin · 5 months

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Hehehe

#don’t look at my nails im doing them #on saturday

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klainetober · 1 year

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Fave Fic Friday (coming in a little late!)

It's the last weekend of October everyone!

Please enjoy some great fics!

When My Eyes Beheld an Eerie Sight by Water Nix

A visit to Ohio's Largest Haunted Corn Maze the weekend before Halloween has the members of New Directions (current and former) a little on edge. Some more than others, and in very different ways.

A Series of Spooky Events by february

Here are six ficlets scattered throughout the seasons where life in Ohio and New York is a little creepier than it seems.

Floorshow by Neaf

Rocky Horror Audience Participation AU, Blaine is a law student, forced into a strict life by his father, but he misses performing. A chance meeting spurs his old desires, and he finds himself joining the cast of the local RHPS AP, where he meets the enigmatic Frank, and starts to remember who he used to be. But Frank is much, much more than he seems.

'Til Undeath Do Us Part by hundredindecisions

When acting as a zombie in a haunted house, Kurt's job is to scare everyone who comes through - which is going fine, until a particularly cute prep school boy ends up stranded with him.

Happy Halloween Weekend Everyone!

#fave fic friday #on saturday #final Klainetober saturday!#klainetober 2022 #sorry so tardy this week kicked my ass

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hopeintheashes · 1 year

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I've been tagged over the past week by @mellaithwen, @homerforsure, and @indigo2831 for various things, but there weren't any short snippets that really worked out of context, so... here's a not-so-short snippet. Barring disaster, this fic should get posted... tomorrow? Today? Sometime soon.

"It's because you've been so fucking stressed," Eddie tells him, pouring him another cup of coffee with a look that says you should really be drinking tea. "You push yourself until your immune system gives up, and then you get taken out by the common cold." He looks at him over the top of his own mug. "Again."

Buck grumbles at him, but yeah, here's kind of an undeniable pattern here.

More things that Eddie knows.

Eddie sighs, and hands him the coffee, and runs his fingers through Buck's hair in a way that's meant to be casual, a covert fever check. It sparks every nerve that he's got.

There's the short, sharp buzz of a text message coming in, and Eddie pulls his hand back like he's been caught, even though they're alone at the house.

It's from Connor, and it drowns the warmth from Eddie's touch in a rush of cold seawater. THANK YOU!!! it says. Going this morning, let you know when we're done.

"It's not too late," Eddie says. More serious than Buck's seen him since… well. Whatever disaster last threatened their lives. "But it will be soon."

Buck just stares at his phone.

"Not making a choice is making a choice," Eddie says, and he sounds just a little bit desperate.

He's tangled in seaweed, held under the waves.

Easier not to fight it.

"Buck."

He blinks, and surfaces with a ragged breath. "It's okay." Finally calm.

Eddie opens his mouth to say something, and shuts it again.

"I'm…" He looks around, and swipes his wrist at his nose where it's starting to run, and stands up with only a little bit of a sway. "I'm gonna go home, I think."

"What?" Off-balance, and off-guard.

"Yeah, I…" He wipes his nose on his sweatshirt again, and Eddie hands him a tissue from the box on the counter without looking away. "I'm gonna try to sleep off this cold before next shift."

"You can do that here." Confusion and concern.

"No, you've got shit to do—"

"I don't."

"—and I don't want to get Chris sick, so." He's gathering up his keys and phone and wallet and shoes. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Buck—"

But what's he gonna do, barricade the door? Buck's vaguely aware that he's too detached to think about this straight, but it seems unlikely. Athena would come after him for kidnapping. So, yeah. He's safe.

He walks out the door and it must take a beat for Eddie to realize that he's really going, because that's how long it takes before Eddie's scrabbling for his own shoes and following him outside.

Buck's already in the Jeep. "I'm okay. I'll see you on shift."

Eddie's saying something, he's pretty sure, but it doesn't matter. He's already gone.

#seven sentence sunday #on saturday #and not remotely seven sentences #writing updates

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