#so nice to be at my main workstation again

[dontfeeltoohot]

Just cuz I can lmfao

YTAU YTAU YTAU YTAU

Enjoy some Steve POV!

X X X

Steve stares at himself in the mirror, wishing Robin was here to help him pick out an outfit. He’s meeting Eddie at the tattoo parlor at 7 so they can grab some food and walk around downtown Hawkins. It’s September, the temperature is starting to drop, and leaves are very faintly changing color.

Pulling off his navy polo, the shop owner groans and runs a hand through his hair. Fuck. Why is this so hard? Because it’s Eddie, the guys he’s unknowingly jacked off too numerous times thanks to wavs on YouTube. It’s also the guy that’s incredibly attractive and sweet and funny and kind. Jesus Christ.

Looking around his bedroom, he finally decides on a plain dark green t-shirt and his old, vintage blue grey Members Only jacket, a gift from Robin last year for Christmas. Deciding he looks good, Steve goes and brushes his teeth, then fixes his hair. Years ago he would have obsessed over it, but now he lets it mostly do its own thing. Robin always tells him it looks better than highschool, and he tries to believe her.

The walk from the apartment to Main Street is only ten minutes. Steve actually enjoys walking most days, it lets him clear his head and he likes to people-watch. The lights on Green Light’s parlor sign are lit up, letting everyone know they’re open. He’s been in a few times now, though still not many. He’s known Eddie (personally) for less than a month, but it’s nice they’re starting to hang out more.

The one issue he keeps running into is trying not to think about the fact he’s listened to this man sneeze for over two years, has built a whole fake persona for him, but now he’s hanging out with the real Eddie. The real ‘thebanished’. It’s kind of mind blowing.

Bells hit together and ring out as Steve opens the door, knocking from where they’re hung on the door knob. He smiles at Lana, the one piercer they have employed, and she smiles back, her Monroe piercing glinting in the light.

“Eddie, your boy is here!”

His boy? Steve tries to get the words to compute in his brain as he looks over to where half walls separate workstations. The middle one on the right side of the room is Eddie’s, and he can’t help but grin as a messy bun of curly brown hair pops up from behind the wall. A moment later, Steve notices Eddie’s holding a tissue in his hand. Cheeks feeling warm, Steve forces himself to walk closer. Surely he’s not sick again, right? If he is the universe has to be fucking with him.

“Hey Harrington,” Eddie beams at him.

The artist is wearing a plain black shirt and black jeans with rips at the knees, his usual attire. Tattoos litter his arms completely, spilling onto his hands. Steve thinks he’s seen some kind of design peep out from around the necks of his shirts sometimes, too. There’s a few wispy curls around his face, bangs brushing his eyebrows.

“Hey, you ready for food?”

“Yeah man, gimme just one second,” Eddie smiles and tosses the tissue into his trash can. “Sorry, I was cleaning off my gun,” he adds, gesturing to the half taken apart tattoo gun sitting on the chair.

So universe isn’t fucking with him then.

“Oh, you can f-“

“Nah, I need some food, this can wait till tomorrow,” he promises, and Steve melts a little at how genuine Eddie looks. Thoughts about Eddie and food remind Steve of six nights prior when Eddie had told he and Robin he was diabetic.

The older of the two grabs his denim jacket from the back of his chair and pulls it on, then grabs the backpack that’s sitting in the corner, also black. He turns and gives Steve another smile, then gestures to the front.

“Ready?”

Nodding, Steve follows him out, passing by two guys who look like they're in their twenties, obviously high and on the couch.

“They’re going to get the shiftiest tattoos if that weed is as strong as it smells,” Eddie laughs, walking down the sidewalk. “How was your day Stevie?”

“Hopefully they regret it,” Steve smirks, basking in the fact the air has dropped to the 60’s and 70’s recently. “It was good! Robin has that date tonight, so she wouldn’t stop talking all day…”

Steve means to continue talking but the sun catches his face and he’s not wearing sunglasses. Almost immediately his nose itches and he stops walking, eyes fluttering shut. He can feel Eddie stop too, can hear the little keychain on his backpack stop hitting the fabric.

“eiIHKSHH! heh’IhDSTCHHuh!”

He snaps his face downward, hardly covering, but directing any spray he might have toward the ground and himself.

“Sorry,” Steve blushes when he opens his eyes and sees Eddie staring at him.

Then it hits him. Duh. Eddie’s into this. Well…maybe not his sneeze personally, but anyone who has a YouTube full of wavs has to actually have the kink too. Oh god…how loud had he been? Shit, he needed to practice sneezing in front of a mirror to watch his face or something now, because what if it was super bad?

“Bless you.”

Eddie says it was an amazing amount of ease, it doesn’t come out shaky like Steve’s had weeks prior when the guy had been sick. He’s still looking at him.

“Thanks.”

“That’s rare, sneezing from the sun,” Eddie adds, and what the fuck, how is he so chill talking casually about this?

“Yeah, I think I remember reading that somewhere. I’ve always done it.”

Maybe he can have some fun with this. Eddie doesn’t know that he knows. Holy. Shit.

As they continue their walk down to the local burger place, Steve listens to Eddie talk about his friend who’s coming into town, and how he can’t wait for Robin to meet her. As they approach Benny’s Burger Joint, Steve turns and his eyes once again get light shone into them.

“IHKSHH! eiISHH’UH!”

He manages to twist away into his arm this time, sniffling after.

“Two times in one walk Stevie? Jeez, are you a vampire?”

Steve blushes and laughs, shaking his head and opening the door for the man, feeling oddly light.

#my fic #em #st #sh #prompts #asks #ytau

[strangecloud]

Things I wish I knew before I installed Linux

Flatpak. Flatpak is a software packaging and distribution solution, the main feature of which is containerization. What that means is if you install a Flatpak app, it is isolated from most of your filesystem and processes at runtime. The main advantage is enhanced privacy and security. The main disadvantage is that, if you would like your application to communicate with external apps (like Discord's rich presence) or if you want it to access an external filesystem, like a secondary drive, that's going to be a bit harder and require some workarounds.

Display/Audio servers. Depending on your distro, your server processes and daemons are going to be different. A normal user doesn't have to worry too much about stuff like PulseAudio unless they are already comfortable tinkering anyway, but Display is another matter. If you notice issues with tearing, stutter, or reduced performance, check whether your Desktop Environment uses X11 or Wayland. If one gives you trouble, switch over and try again. There's more advanced tinkering you can do to improve the display experience but I'm not comfortable telling people to root into their xorg.confs or whatever, so just search on the internet if you feel something's not working right.

Ext4. Ext4 is the preferred filesystem format for Linux OSes. There are exceptions but most distros are going to require this format. Importantly, Windows does not read ext4 out of the box. That means if you decide to back up some data onto a default Linux-formatted ext4 drive, you won't be able to access your files from a Windows PC. In this case, you'll need either some data recovery tool or a live Linux boot media to move your files back.

Mesa. Mesa is the open-source graphics library for AMD and Intel graphics adapters. If you use an AMD or Intel GPU (dedicated or not), you'll most likely want to use Mesa and not bother with proprietary drivers unless you are on a workstation use-case. While Linux has a reputation of being friendly to old tech, support for my Legacy GPUs have been mixed. On Debian, my AMD R7 260X does not play nice with RADV and requires a workaround to force AMDVLK. Your mileage may vary.

#linux #computer science #information technology #advice

[msbarrows]

After finishing the Blight expedition and going back to my current main play save, I decided I it was time to move on from Euclid. Went with the “dead” galaxy option, so I’ve been transported to the Budullangr galaxy. Created a small first planetfall base near where I landed, then decided I wanted to create a bigger base somewhere to place local copies of things like all the exocraft bases and employee workstations. There was only one planet in the system that had water, and I lucked out in it having a very mild climate and being reasonably pretty for a bleak ecosystem. Hunted down one of the eternal twilight areas, spotted a small floating rock mass above a largish lake there, and decided to build on it.

I’ve named the place Laputa Base (of course after the flying city in Castle In The Sky) and spent several hours last night and this evening working on it (yes, after cheating my save to have access to all the legacy building sets).

There’s been a lot of experimentation, and stripping out and rebuilding things using different sets. I still have a bunch of building to do, and then I’ll dress out the place. I’m kind of loving how iridescent the old metal building set looks when hit by eternal sunrise/sunset lighting. I’m more meh on the concrete set, in some places it works really well and in others I find it too plain (need to knock down and rebuild those two towers to either side of the courtyard again, for the third time - neither metal nor concrete looks quite right).

Probably going to substantially remodel the area at the front of the island (looking out over the larger area of the lake); it’s currently cluttered up with solar panels, batteries, and the starship landing pad, which is wasting what would otherwise be a nice view. Will probably move the landing pad further right and back, sharing the walkway that leads to the modular base part where the employee workstations are. There’s some walled in areas underneath the main building that I can section off part of as a basement utility room to stick things like the batteries and electrical line hider in, and then move the solar panels to less obvious areas. Then enlarge that small front patio and make it look more like an entertainment area with an outdoor bar, seating, potted plants, etc.

#No Man's Sky #Yet more building of bases #Laputa Base #Budullangr Galaxy

[daemonhxckergrrl]

re: your ask from greyr4t about win10: as you said in your answer its free, just needs a key for 'activation.' ime activating win10 has been worth it. like you mentioned, it isnt strictly necessary, one can make do fine in a somewhat limited capacity with the watermark in the corner forever (unless your monitor is an OLED then have fun with 100% guaranteed screen burn in lmao. or unless always seeing it enrages you disproportionately. as in my case). but having windows activated is honestly just nice, it makes many things easier and is more sustainable in the long run... worth the extremely minor hassle as like a QoL thing imo. you also brought up that its possible to circumvent microsoft (and its brazenly insane asking prices 🤬) & buy cheap keys online from third parties. i wanted to talk about how i did shit, hopefully it helps the original asker directly or at least comes in handy to know

so i bought my (shady bootleg, yes, but perfectly functional for years now) win10 activation key for even cheaper than what Synthia listed as a price point- iirc, under 5 bucks USD. (might be higher now w inflation, but id be surprised if its much more than around 10.) if things still work how they used to, you can do this on ebay. technically ebays policies dont allow it, so the accounts selling these keys come and go frequently due to getting shut down by ebay after popping up. thus, dont necessarily be put off if the seller hasnt existed for long, as often thats just how it goes (or it did. hopefully this sort of thing is still going strong🤞); do trust happy reviews. now, there are a few TYPES of activation keys– priced slightly different, nothing big– that correspond to different editions of windows 10. so basically its home edition, pro edition, and "pro for workstations". might be worth finding a brief summary of each to determine which edition best meets your needs. (there are more editions beyond the main trio, look into those too if you want, but the tldr on em is theyre for like niche markets w/ highly specific use cases.) fwiw, i got pro & am happy with it. another thing, from personal experience: may or may not be obvious but you're gonna wanna save a screenshot of your key somewhere safe and accessible. additionally though, label the screenshot somehow so you know what it is later, and if youre a disorganized scatterbrain like i am then put that in multiple places you can reliably access so if/when youre having trouble tracking it down you know where else to look; it came in handy for me to have access to it in places both online (cloud storage like google drive or dropbox for example, or even just saving the email copy of the ebay mssg in the designated folder in your email for the ones containing info you wanna save) & off (physical note on paper, stored in the files on one or more personal devices, etc). theres a huge chance youll need it again in the future– like say if you want to upgrade certain hardware– and likely more than once. final advice: highly recommend looking into comprehensive ways of "defanging" and/or "lobotomizing" windows, as they say. i.e., a tip that gets circulated is doing the initial setup for windows w your pc in airplane mode / ethernet unplugged so you dont have to make a microsoft account so they cant create a profile on you to collect your data to sell off & target ads at you (which is obvi totally reversible later if you decide the benefits of having an account outweigh the drawbacks). shit like that, plus the loads of guides out there– many here on tumblr itself– on extensive fucking around in various settings to disable bloatware / preserve privacy / other useful stuff, that can get pretty granular. i think ive even seen Synthia herself reblog posts like that here a couple times, maybe? perhaps try checking relevant-seeming tags from the tagging system in her pinned, or do a blog search for the term 'windows' and see what all there is to find

phew, anyway, jesus christ! sorry this got to be such a long writeup!!! some of this blog's aggregate of resources have been a big help to me, so i wanted to try to pay it forward a little <3 and, Synthia, if you wouldnt mind, tagging the original asker in your response to this anon so that greyr4t is more likely to see all this would be very much appreciated by me!! ty in advance!! thanks also for your careful curation of useful info on this blog, plus the helpful posts and guides youve written here for us yourself 👍🌈

hi anon ! thanks for writing all this up !! lots of great points here - hopefully they help you out @greyr4t ! the airplane mode one is real important too if you care about privacy (and the fact you can't choose to make a local account during installation unless you are disconnected from the internet is awful and yet another dark pattern-type tactic.

i'm glad my blog's been good for you <3 (though i do need to go through and make all the important stuff a bit easier to access at some point)

iirc there's some reblogs on general privacy stuff (probably under one of the REPO tags and like "net privacy" or similar) as well as my own firefox post, and maybe more will happen in the future when i get to them

#Anonymous #DATA_REQUESTS #for greyr4t

[wild-catra]

so I played some palworld and read some ciritques...

what I find annoying abt every ciritque of the designs I've read or listened to so far is that no self styled critic seems to know the word "parody" (which is protected by law, so no they are not commiting plagiarism ). the designs are supposed to be knock offs and mashups, that's the entire selling point of the game (otherwise it's just a bland survival craft/creature collector game like everything we got after the ark boom), so critizising that over and over again seems kind of pointles??? but it's the only thing everyone ever talks about "this one looks like lycanroc" yea so what? lycanroc was a bland boring cheap design to begin with, the ciritque should be that pocketpair did not improve it or made it funny when they had the chance. arguably it looks even more bland now.

so my main gripe is with how cheap most knockoffs and mashups are… they're very hit or miss, some are cute and were altered enough to become smth unique but most are just lazy and boring, especially the million generic fox monsters. most pals are useless (there's WAY too many pals with the same abilities imo) and ugly so like there's no point keeping them except to fill your dex and grind for xp, which admittely is less tedious than in ark with vanilla settings

so it's mostly the quality that is lacking, in this state it's just not a good parody and not a good game, it's more of what a 14 year old edgelord woul come up it if they were supposed to design a parody of pokemon/ark.

like it as some nice gameplay ideas but idk if it's an issue bc it's so super early access, a lot of it doesn't work well. path finding is atrocious, pals and npcs get constantly stuck, base size is waaaay too small for how much shit you need to build, esp when you get the bigger, better pals with massive hitboxes so even more likely to geet stuck, but also there are no big flat ground areas where you can build w/o obstruction (at least in the early game areas), pals constantly abandon their asigned workstation, esp frustrating when it's smtv like cooling the fridge.

this game needs so much work still to at least distract from their ugly creature designs, which a crature collector game should not have to do. like sure there are duds in every creature collector but they're not supposed to make up the majority of the designs.

#palworld #critique #gaming

[woytaq]

Do I have computer problems?

I wrote a little bit about my adventure with computers, you can read it here or on my website (with some extra info and pictures.)

---------

So I have a lot of computers. Some of them are new, most of them are old. Some don’t even look like computers. I’ve been recently thinking a lot about it and what to do with them, so I decided, hey, this is a good opportunity to write a blog. 

It all started in 1994 I think. My first computer was a Pentium MMX, astonishing 122 MHz, mind blowing 1.2GB of disc space, and 16 MB of RAM. A multimedia machine running DOS and Windows 3.11. I wanted a computer long before then, ever since I saw my cousin playing on his Comodore 64, but my parents didn’t want it to rot my brain or something, so when they bought it, it was for my Dad to work on. I had very limited access to it, but when I did, it was a challenge to glue me away from it. 

Then a couple years later my dad got an even better computer, that one with brand new Windows 98 and I got the old one for myself. I think at that time it was clear for my parents computers will be something I’m just going to do for a living. Especially since I kept on breaking and fixing it over and over… 

Anyway, time passed and my trusty Pentium MMX became more and more outdated and finally in 2002-ish I managed to hoard enough money to buy a decent modern PC. Athlon 1300 Mhz, 128 MB of RAM and finally an accelerated graphics card (which promptly died and was replaced with an even better one). As part of the money gathering I agreed to sell that Pentium MMX to my mom’s company for accounting to run some very old but also very important DOS-based accounting software. 

And this background was important because years have passed and in 2004 I graduated high school and went to study computer science. I kept on upgrading or replacing my PC and eventually when I got to my engineering thesis I needed to run a database and apache with PHP and some other stuff to run on a preferably Linux machine. It could be done on my PC with some tinkering, but it so happened that the company my mom worked for was finally replacing the old accounting software and my original PC was about to be decommissioned. So obviously I jumped in and grabbed it from the scrap pile. I replaced the hard drive, added a network card and slapped a fresh Linux with all the db and web tools needed. It was the first time when I had more than one computer working at the same time and I loved it. When I passed my engineering exam and got to work on my master’s thesis I also got a laptop from my mom (because it turns out it’s kinda useful to have a computer with me when I’m at the institute studying computer stuffs) and in the background I managed to earn (mostly by designing website and fixing computers, obviously) and put aside enough money to upgrade my PC again. This time instead of selling or giving away my old machine I scavenged another case and kept the previous internals as the new server thing. I still  regret getting rid of the old Pentium MMX machine entirely, I didn’t have any use for it at the time, but I believe I could have turned it into a nice retro gaming machine. 

At that point in time I had my main workstation/gaming rig which I called Kombain (from combine-harvester, a big do-it-all farming machine), my laptop and the server (nicknames Wihajster, a Polish/German word meaning something like “thingamajig”) which I exclusively used for my master's thesis project. It was especially important during my last year at the Uni when I was living mostly out of my girlfriend’s place some 200km from home, so a server with access to all my stuff was a great thing to have. 

But times changed again, I graduated, got a job back in my home city, moved out from my family home and suddenly having a server built out of a gaming rig was a bit of a problem for my electricity bills. At the same time it was kinda useless since I no longer needed all the things I hosted on it. So eventually I turned it into a turn-on-only-when-needed NAS filled with leftover hard drives. So it just sat under my desk gathering dust and frying ancient HDDs, prompting improvised exercises in data recovery. 

Then suddenly it was 2019, Tumblr was purged of all unsavoury content convincing me to say “screw this, I’m going to host stuff on my own”. So I created this website hosted on a VPS. Also around this time I bought a small flat and moved all my toys here. Everything was great, but I still didn’t have my own server back at my new home. Permanently plugging in Wihajster seemed to be a waste of money, and I already had an always-on Linux machine I could connect to and do some quick bash magic in the form of the VPS… And yet, that was just not enough. So eventually I got myself a RaspberryPi and set it up as a ssh/db/web server. Over time I started glueing more stuff to it, like extra hard drives for network storage, apps running in docker and so on. It turns out that while you can have a RasbPi running anything, you can’t have it running everything at once.

Some time before I moved I also created a Fallout-like terminal for my LARP/Convention needs. It was based on a cobbled together PC and it worked really janky, but that was the point. Well.. at one of the Oldtown LARPs it just decided to die, but since we still needed a Fallot terminal for LARPing, I started to look for alternatives for the future and found those tiny thin clients that are used in some offices. Basically a computer with no hard drive, just a flash memory to boot up and connect to Citrix or something. Perfect, I take three. So one of those is now the Fallout terminal, another is a cold spare and a third, with help of some creative cable management and liberal use of external drive bays has some 2 TB od disks dangling around and works as a NAS and DB storage for RasbPi, which can now happily just work as the computing unit. 

And the funny part is, I already have at least one good MB with everything on board to build a new, much more efficient server which would replace both the Thin client turned NAS and RasbPi frontend-media-server, bringing me back to having a full sized computer as a server, which I was trying to avoid a couple of years ago. Of course I’m not going to replace the current setup now, since, you know, the energy crisis and crazy world shit going on, but it is something I’m thinking way too much about lately.

#computers #pc #hobby #raspberry pi

[daveinediting]

While I already talked about the importance of choosing the right physical location to start a given project, tee’d up the idea of brain networks and different modes of thinking like diffuse vs. focused, open vs. closed, associative vs. sequential, while I've Show 'n Tell'd the magic of black boxes and how amazing it is to fully hand off creative responsibility to people you trust, Creatives you trust...

And while I have also said brain networks as well as different modes of thinking work basically one at a time, that if one is activated the others are de-activated, well...

It's nice to know there's a lot of creative gears in play. Not gonna lie. It's the best.

What I haven't explicitly stated in showing off these gears is that you can shift between them in the same work session. Many times, in fact, accessing different gears, different modes of thinking.

So.

How do you shift gears?

The answer is... some gears you can shift quickly and others need a little help, space, and time.

The quick ones are picture and sound. As in, turning off the sound of a show and focusing on the moving image as a silent experience. If there are any issues in the visuals, improvements that can be made, this is a great way to catch them.

You can also turn off picture and process the sound against a black screen. It works even better to close your eyes as well. And again, you catch problems and opportunities in a way that's simply not possible when you're attempting to gauge picture and sound at the same time. Sure, you can still catch stuff... but you don't catch everything. It's only when you segregate the tasks that you gain full creative control of the picture and sound.

Other gear shifts, like I said, require a little help, space, and time. Especially when I have to gauge the emotional impact of individual shots, I find it best to put a buffer between  the focused work I'm doing and the emotional work I want to do next.

The main challenge is coming to this same footage in a fresh way, especially if I've been in a mechanic mindset all day.

So I do a restart.

I shut down the workstation. Then I head out for a walk listening to, believe it or not, instrumental New Age music. When eventually I return to the edit suite, I turn the workstation back on and start reviewing each of the shots in question, all of them first without sound... and then a second pass with sound. Then I make notes about my impressions (yes, I write them down) and I make the call.

I don't do that all the time, of course, but if it's really important and I can't shake mechanic mode easily, this is a thing I can do to make the gear shift. A combination of cueing my brain that a restart is happening, of using music as a mental palate cleanser, and then to start off visually processing only, taking in the nonverbals happening in each frame which puts me well on the way to gauging the emotion of each shot.

In the case of getting stuck composing music that's gotta be done the same day or in the next few hours, I'll grab a recording of whatever I've got, put it on my phone, jack in some headphones and take to the neighborhood.

I listen over and over on loop. Letting my work so far settle into my brain. Challenging my brain to a game of What Comes Next? 

Which is a game it's really very good at.

I just have to give it center stage and not focus.

Works every time. 😁

I'll try to conjure some more examples over the next few days. 

In the meantime, have a great weekend.

🙂

#creativity #creative process #creative strategy #creative gears #shifting gears #picture only #sound only #emotion #cueing #mental palate cleanser #processing only a portion

[meowniee]

Lee Taeyong - One Shot

Pairing: Female Reader (photographer) x Lee Taeyong (idol)

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 4,2k

Warnings: oral (f/m) | fingering (f) | penetration | protected sex | squirt | manhandling | finger sucking

Synopsis: Who would have thought that doing a photo shoot with NCT would lead you to stay after your working hours in a room alone with Taeyong...

You were already asleep when you got a call from your boss. One of the photographers who would be working tomorrow had gotten sick and he needed you to go to work in her place. You had been hired a few months ago, but you hadn't worked on any major projects yet, even though your experience in the field is impeccable. He asked you to arrive early tomorrow at the film set and your colleague would explain all the work. You were so excited, it would be your first opportunity to show your talent, whatever job it was.

You could barely sleep and ended up waking up earlier than you needed to. You chose a comfortable outfit, pants and shirt, ate your favorite breakfast, did some very basic makeup, highlighting your cute lips, and went out to the photo set. The day was beautiful with a very blue sky and a shining sun. It was almost 10 am when you arrived at the luxurious hotel where the photos would be. At the entrance, your colleague was waiting for you with an iced coffee in each hand. You greeted each other quickly, thanking her for the coffee, and headed into the hotel, picking up your credentials at the lobby. On the way to the main hall, she explained to you that they would have a big crew today because they were going to photograph a famous K-pop group, NCT127. Each photographer would be responsible for one of them during the individual photos, and the photos would be taken in a hotel room according to the aesthetic that each one wanted. She told you that you would be responsible for Taeyong, the leader of the group. You were shocked. You were just replacing the sick photographer and were you responsible for none other than the GROUP LEADER? “Don't worry, he's an experienced idol. He'll help you with whatever you need. He's also a sweetheart, rest assured”, she said, patting your arm. You sighed in relief. You need to do your best today to take your best pictures. You knew Taeyong and how perfect he was in the photos. His features were sharp and his gaze was deep, the best set for a good model.

It didn't take long for all the photographers and directors to arrive, preparing their cameras, lights and scenery, reviewing the positions and space around them. The beats of their music echoed faintly through the hall. You heard rumbles coming from the entrance to the hall and turned to see what was going on. The boys had arrived along with their security guards and managers. They were mostly in sweats and comfortable clothes, clearly without the luxurious outfits prepared for the photos. Some messy hair, sleepy eyes and yawns accompanied their expression, but that didn't stop you from noticing how beautiful they were. Extremely beautiful. They were talking to each other, sipping their coffee, laughing and settling down next to the staff members. The blonde one, Taeyong, stood in front of them, ceasing their conversation. They greeted all of the staff, bowing and smiling. The director took the lead and made the general introductions. "We will have a team responsible for each member to optimize the work today. Please direct each member to their workstation to begin preparations". He called one name at a time, redirecting the boys to their teams. The makeup artists and hairdressers started to work, preparing their looks according to the references they had received. You stood a little away from him, a little embarrassed, holding your camera. You didn't want to take pictures of him without makeup, respecting his personal space, so you waited until the stylists had finished. He was perfect now, with his hair straight and his makeup done. Soft pink lips emphasized the shape. He was fiddling with his cell phone, waiting for the moment to go change. You approached slowly. “Hi Mr. Lee… I’m Y/n. I am your photographer today”, you introduced yourself, bending a little and unable to look at him. “Hey! Nice to meet you.”. You raised your eyes a little to see him. He was smiling and waving his hand. “I didn't know you. Are you new here?”, he asked. “Yes… Hm… I'm replacing a colleague who couldn't come”, you answered, squeezing your camera in your hands. “If you have any questions or need help, just ask me, okay?”, he smiled and got up to go dress up. You breathed a sigh of relief. You were very nervous and hadn't even realized you weren't breathing properly. He seemed very kind and that made you more relieved.

The group photos were quick. The boys were very professional, they knew exactly what to do, where to look and how to position their bodies. They were very comfortable with the production, playing games with each other but not disturbing each other's work. Everyone's attention was focused on them, always going to fix some hair that was out of place, or some slightly smudged makeup. Words of encouragement from the photographers only made them more excited. You were always watching Taeyong. You needed to learn how he looked at the camera, what angles he preferred and how he liked to pose for pictures. He was the one who looked most comfortable among them all. He wore burgundy pants and a shiny leather jacket, no shirt. Sometimes your eyes locked, making your whole body heat up, and eventually you would shyly look away.

Everyone had lunch at the hotel restaurant and then went to the individual sets. All lights and equipment were mounted. The rooms weren't very big, but the staff was downsized now so you wouldn't have a problem with that. The room had a bed by the window, a sofa across the room, and a rug with wave patterns. The pale colors contrasted with Taeyong's clothes.

Individual photos took longer. Taeyong always stopped to look at the result in the notebook, giving suggestions for light, for angles, praising your photos. You were getting more and more comfortable with him, laughing at the jokes and daring to get closer. “It's almost 7 PM, we should start wrapping up”, you said. He looked at you. “I really want to try some other poses and angles. Y/n, can you stay up a little later?” he asked and you nodded quickly. It was your most important job so far and you would make the most of it. “We won't need the production. You all can go. These photos will be for my personal project. Thank you so much for your hard work today”. He said, turning to the rest of the staff. They thanked and bowed, starting to pack their things and leave the room. You were very happy that he asked you to take more photos for his personal project. So he liked your work, right? You were enjoying working with him too. The conversation and exchange of ideas flowed easily. You quickly understood what he wanted and could reproduce it with your clicks. You had good chemistry together. “I'm going to go down and get my stuff from downstairs and from there we can start, ok?”, you said, opening the door and heading for the elevator. You were very excited... and a little nervous about being alone in a room with him. Quickly grabbing your extra lights and lenses, you went back to the hotel room, thinking of all the angles that could be made there. You knocked on the door before entering. Taeyong had his notebook open, sitting on the couch. The room was cozier now that all the lights were out and there wasn't a lot of equipment in the corners. “I ordered drinks and some snacks for us. We can relax a little while I explain to you what I thought for these photos.”, he said as you put your things down by the couch, sitting on the bed in front of him. “Oh thank you! So… Tell me a little about your project, please”, you asked him. His eyes were shining as he told you about his new album that he produced himself. He was thinking about taking photos to promote digitally. A sexier concept as his songs were very intimate. You really liked everything. He had a very artistic mind and he spoke in a very emotional way.

The snacks arrived and you thanked them, you were starving. At some point you sat next to him on the couch while he showed you pictures he liked, so you could follow the concept. You both finished eating and you got up, “How do you want to start? Maybe on the couch?”, he nodded, crossing his legs and leaning on the sofa, his tiger look appearing again. His duality was incredible. Super cute and adorable off camera, but extremely irresistible on them. His poses were great and you always praised him between them, cheering him on. He lay on his back on the couch, letting his arm fall over the edge, looking directly at you through the camera lens. This was the best photo of the night, for sure. He sat, legs closed, back laying on the couch. If you were your camera right now, you would be melted by his gaze. “Can you take one up close?”, he asked. You positioned yourself very close to his legs, leaning forward to get as close as possible, trying to balance. “You can put your legs around mine. That’s okay”. You did as he said, timidly opening your legs and getting closer to him, his legs between yours. He lay a little more on the couch, flirting with the lenses. Or with you? You didn't know anymore at that point. You tried to get a little closer, but you lost your balance, falling forward. He quickly put his hands around your waist, holding you, making you sit in his lap. “Are you ok?”, he asked. You were so embarrassed, your cheeks were burning. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Thank you”, you whispered. You didn't try to get up and he didn't move either. His hands still gripping your waist, holding you in place. “Maybe a photo this close will be good”, he murmured, lightly squeezing his hands on you. You quickly raised the camera. You thanked you for not having to look him in the eye, but being able to see him through the lens was a really amazing view. You clicked several times, trying to capture the most of the moment. You tightened your thighs around him, getting closer. His hands gently moved down your legs as his gaze traveled over your entire body. He bit his lower lip when you whispered a compliment, letting his head fall back, panting softly. He was enjoying the whole moment, just like you. You took his chin between your fingers and pushed it up, making him face the camera. Your thumb lightly scraping the bitten lip as he opened it slightly. Lowering the camera, you glared into his eyes, pushing your finger slowly between his lips, testing the waters. You let a low moan escape as he ran his tongue over your finger, circling slowly and then closing his lips around it.

Taeyong was so sexy already totally drunk with pleasure underneath you, with labored breathing and huge pupils dilated by arousal. You could almost feel him melt under your touch, giving himself completely. Was this really happening? Or did you hit your head in the elevator and this is all just your mind's creation? The questioning passed quickly when you felt a sharp bite on your finger, pulling you back to reality. Yes, he was there, deliciously sucking your finger like it was the tastiest candy he'd ever had. Putting the camera to one side entirely, you looked deep into his eyes, lifting your head with a defiant look as your fingers tightened inside his mouth, forcing him to open it. He took a deep breath before suddenly grabbing you around the waist and pulling you close to his chest, causing you to lose your balance and fall onto his chest completely, bracing both your hands on the couch behind him. You felt him pushing his hips up against yours just before your lips met. His lips were colder than yours, giving you goosebumps. Quickly devouring each other, the kiss became extremely hot as your tongues twisted against each other, tasting the sweet needy taste. You slipped your hand from his chest, past his neck, into his blonde hair, tangling your fingers in, pressing your mouths even closer, deepening the kiss. A purr resonated through his chest, leaving you extremely excited. He was so responsive to your actions, melting at any gesture, especially when you showed dominance over him.

You let your head fall back, leaving your neck free, guiding Taeyong to kiss you there. Despite the strength of your hand in his hair, he took his time kissing your jaw until he reached the base of your neck, biting and licking near your collarbone. His hands moved up from your hips, working their way under your shirt, reaching the base of your breasts. His hands weren't big, but they hugged your ribs as best they could. Running his hands down your back until he reached your shoulders, he pressed you down, against your prominent volume growing inside his pants, kissing the valley between your breasts through your shirt. You can do nothing but sigh. You grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it up, letting Taeyong sink between your breasts, kissing them through the lace of your bra as his deft hands opened it from behind. He pulled back for a moment as he slipped the straps over your shoulder, letting the bra fall between you, quickly tossing it to the side. Admiring your bare breasts, he cupped them both in his hands, massaging them gently, playing with your nipples between his fingers, lightly squeezing, earning a moan from you. Looking deep into your eyes, he brought his pink lips near to your nipple, pressing the tip of his tongue around it before capturing it with his mouth. The other one was being pinched and twirled between his fingers. You could feel your arousal making you wet, pooling in the fabric of your panties. You pressed your hips against his, trying to feel him hard against your clothed core.

You were startled when he quickly flipped you over with your back to the couch, sitting you down and pulling your hips closer to the edge. He found the waistband of your pants and pulled it with his fingers along with your panties, leaving you totally naked. His eyes ran all over your body, burning through every part they passed. Spreading your legs, he positioned in the middle as he sought your lips for another hot kiss. He was still fully dressed and it made you a little embarrassed to be undressed. You took advantage of the fact that he was close and started to open the buttons on his leather coat as he sucked your tongue and left bites on your lips. He helped you finish taking off his coat, throwing it somewhere in the room. He took a moment for you to look at him between your legs, standing up, and appreciate his gorgeous torso, now exposed since he wasn't wearing any shirt. He knelt gracefully between your legs, still looking into your eyes, and placed his hands on the inner part of your thigh, forcing you to spread your legs even further so that he could fit his broad shoulders between them. He brought his lips too close to your wet folds, but he didn't touch, just laid there, breathing hot, making you feel how close he was from your core. You grabbed his hair and forced his head against you, which he gladly accepted, flattening his tongue on your cunt. It didn't take long before he was devouring you hungrily, licking up all of your liquid, sucking on your clit and twisting his tongue around it. It felt great and you moaned his name under your breath, trying not to yell at all the neighbors to hear. You felt your orgasm approaching and began to roll your hips, rubbing yourself against his tongue. You couldn't help when your back arched and the wave of heat spilled over your whole body. He didn't stop sucking on your clit, prolonging the sensation of pleasure as your body writhed with each movement. When the sensation started to get painful from overstimulation, he slipped two fingers inside your wet interior, starting to move them curved, reaching the most sensitive point. You were about to ask him to stop when you felt another orgasm coming. His fingers worked fast in and out of your pussy, rubbing your g-spot with precision, while his mouth kissed your super sensitive clit. You felt an incredible pressure taking hold of your uterus, as if your bladder were suddenly too full. You tried to close your legs, but he held you tight, looking you in the eyes, daring you to stay there. You were hit by a high-speed train when your second orgasm came too quickly compared to the previous one. “Fuck…”, you yelled as you heard the louder and wet noises spreading through the room as Taeyong guided you through your moment of ecstasy. When you managed to open your eyes, he was looking at you with a proud smile on his lips. “God…that was really hot…”, he said, bringing his soaked fingers to his mouth, sucking each one until there was no juices left. You looked at your legs and saw that they were much wetter than usual. It's been a long time since you last had a squirt. And you were sure this wasn't the first time he's done this with a woman.

You saw his other hand rubbing the volume down his pants. He made you feel so good and now you wanted to return the favor. “Get up”, you asked, signaling with your finger. He immediately got up. Small dark stains covered the front of his burgundy pants, hit by your juices. Both of his hands were clasped behind his back, puffing out his chest and taking a deep breath, waiting for you. You reached for the button on his pants, undoing it slowly as you teased him with your gaze. You slid the zipper down at a slow pace, anticipating your touch on his cock. He was wearing black boxers, which fit perfectly against his body, showing the design of his hard member constrained by the fabric. You dropped his pants on his feet. Taking a firm grip on his ass and squeezing, you brought your lips close to his still-covered volume, sliding your lips over his length. You earned a sigh of appreciation. He didn't tease you, so you wouldn't tease him either. You grabbed the waistband of his boxers and pulled it down, freeing his hard cock. He was wet with pre-cum, glistening in the bedroom light, inviting your mouth to suck it. You took it in your hand, being careful not to put too much pressure, and brought the tip to your lips, giving light kisses around it as you looked at him. His eyes sparkling with anticipation when you stuck your tongue out, gently circling, collecting the pre-cum to taste it. He was so sweet you almost couldn't believe it. You put his whole head in your mouth and increased the pressure on your hand, making him moan louder than before. Sliding down to the end of its length and back, feeling it hit the back of your throat, you started to suck it, your other hand mimicking your movements, but to the opposite side. When your head twisted to the right as you swallowed his length, your hand met twisting to the left. He was moaning hard from pleasure, making you feel proud of your perfect blowjob. You were determined to make him come in your mouth, so you took his balls with your free hand, gently massaging them back and forth as you deepthroated his entire length. You were about to go back when you felt his hand pressing your head further, keeping his cock in your hot throat. You couldn't fight the gag reflex, but he pulled back your head, freeing your throat so you could breathe.

Your lips were all wet with saliva, as was his dick. He pulled your head, making you look at him. "Please… I don't want to come yet…", he begged between sighs. You stood up, hugging his defined waist, quickly spinning him around, causing him to lose his balance and land on the couch. You sat on his lap, positioning your needy pussy on top of his hard cock. Resting your hands on his chest, you started grinding his entire length with your wet folds. He took hold of your hips and helped guide the movement, rolling his eyes back at the wonderful feeling it was like to have you slide past him. “Do you have a condom?”, you asked. He was a little bewildered with pleasure and looked a little startled by the question. “Y-yes…”, he replied, quickly reaching into his wallet and pulling one out. You barely waited for him to finish putting on as you positioned yourself with your entrance to the head of his cock, taking advantage that he was holding it up.

You slid painfully slowly across his length, watching his gaze fixed on where he disappeared inside you. You both moaned low as you reached the end, waiting until your tight walls got used to his size. He cupped both of your breasts, taking one of them in his mouth and kissing it as if it were your lips. You started to roll your hips with his dick deep inside you. “Fuck…”, you both whispered. You couldn't keep it that way for long, so you got up until it almost came out of you, and sank down again. You kept the rhythm steady, enjoying the pleasure inside you. Your brain still didn't seem to process the fact that you were fucking none other than Taeyong. He was really perfect, like he came out of an anime. And he was enjoying being there with you… it made you even more turned out. He started to move his hips too, slamming against you harder, pushing even deeper. You couldn't hold back a shriek of pleasure as it hit so deep you could have sworn you'd feel pain there tomorrow. He kept it deep and strong, the thrusts getting more and more sloppy while the two of you were a moaning mess. Both bodies tense feeling the orgasm approaching, labored breathing filling the room with gasps of air. Grabbing the hair at the back of his head and forcing him away from your sensitive nipple, you captured his lips with yours, still tasting your own juice on his tongue. You could feel your walls tightening and his cock throbbing. You stopped bouncing on him, just focusing on kissing his mouth, but he held your hips in the air, giving him room to move under you, pushing his cock deeper and faster with harder and harder. You dropped your head at the base of his neck, moaning not so low his name as he nibbled and sucked on your neck, increasing your pleasure even further. “Fuck, Taeyong… I’m so close… Please, don’t stop”, you begged this time, holding tight his body against yours. Your words made him fuck you even faster, moaning in a low tone countless curses in your ear. Your orgasm erupted as he licked and bit your earlobe, giving you shivers all over your body, followed by the tingling sensation. Your walls squeezed his cock hard inside you, sucking him in with your pussy. He couldn’t hold it any longer and he's bursted all of his cum into the condom, deep inside you. He didn't stop moving in and out until you were both almost starting to feel pain from overstimulation.

You lay there cuddled together as your bodies rested, restoring your breathing rhythm and heartbeat. This all still didn't feel real. You just had the best sex of your life with… him. You were awakened from your thoughts by his voice in your ear. “Can we take a shower together?”, he asked, his voice so soft he didn't sound like the same person from a few minutes ago. “Only if you wash my hair for me…”, you joked. “Okay, I can do that”, he smiled. He helped you to your feet and went to the bathroom and started getting ready for the shower. “I'll order us something to eat if you don't mind. I'm hungry and I believe you are too”. You nodded as you wrapped yourself in the robe that was in the bedroom. He was being so adorable and caring. In fact, you wouldn't expect him to just send you away after having melted under your touch so easily. He was a gentleman and he was making you feel special right now.

The shower was fun and he let you do various hairstyles with the shampoo bubbles in his hair. Also the timing was perfect. As soon as you guys got out of the shower and wrapped yourself in your hotel robes, the food he ordered arrived in your room. Both of you ate while he told stories about behind the scenes in the clips and funny situations with other members of the group. He was so easy to talk to and give you pleasure that you could easily fall in love...

#taeyong smut #taeyong #lee taeyong #lee taeyong smut #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct fanfic

[bontenten]

Efficiency

Pairing: Daishou x f!reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings/Tags: smut, exhibitionism, voyeurism, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, light degredation, aftercare, established relationship

Thank you so much @/bakatenshii and @/thirstyforthem2dmen for beta-reading. This is a repost from my main after it went fully sfw. Originally for the hqhq (now Anilysium) hard at work collab.

Pen scrawls and keyboard taps sound throughout the conference room as your boss goes over current client projects. Daishou is sitting across the table and you notice he's wearing the tie you gave him for his birthday last year. Looks good, you think to yourself. It's not just the tie, it's his entire outfit, and him.

Daishou notices your lingering stare and makes eye contact, granting you a cheeky grin and a head tilt. Pompous bastard. In response, you send back an expression of mock disgust before turning your attention back to your laptop.

For any newcomer at the firm, it might seem like the office is split down the middle into either your camp or Daishou's, with opinions and jabs on completely opposite ends of the spectrum. Why else is there so much spite being tossed around between the two of you, if not due to a deeply entrenched layer of grievances?

It might leave the newbie confused as to why Daishou affectionately calls you his "most significant problem". Or why you preface notes to him with, "to whom this may piss off, my royal pain-in-the-ass".

Then there comes a revelation to the newbie that you and Daishou are not mortal enemies, but rather the most wretchedly in-love couple in this skyrise building. It's a bad decision to cross either you or Daishou for any matter. Not only are the both of you perfectly vindictive, crossing one means submitting an application to be on the blacklist of the other. There's no doubt, in your humblest opinion, that Daishou, even if he'll never outright admit it, absolutely worships the dirt under your heels. And when you are in remotely a good mood, fine, you don't mind his coffee breath either.

It's heartwarming, that in this tower of cold, hard stainless steel and immaculate glass panels, there's love floating around the disinfected air of money, money, and more money. When it counts, you can be sure that Daishou will stand on the same side of the fence as you.

While the meeting goes on and you multitask with the spreadsheet open on your screen, you think you hear your name being tossed around. To your knowledge, everything is lined up already and unless there is some sort of overnight emergency, there's absolutely nothing left on your plate to take care of.

At the same time, there is also the off-chance that someone decides to drag you into hell with them and include you in a project. Now, who could possibly have the audacity to put you into the wringer with them?

"Daishou! Excellent, I'll leave this to you," the boss exclaims. "This pitchbook needs to be done by tomorrow. It's high urgency and the client just sent the numbers in."

A sinking feeling begins to churn in your stomach. You pause your frenzy across the keyboard and pay attention to the meeting to hear the rest of what Daishou has to say.

"If I may," Daishou curtly asks with a smile that's a tad too wide, "I'd like to work with Y/N on this. As you know, we work best together. It'll be done before the meeting tomorrow."

You can feel everyone's eyes turn to you in the meeting room, begging you to please say yes to the man holding titles such as your boyfriend, co-worker, and also 'royal pain-in-the-ass'. You force a smile and match Daishou's client-ready, saccharine expression. "Of course, we'll have it done tonight."

Suddenly, the atmosphere of the entire meeting room relaxes by ten notches. Bastards, all of you.

"Our firm's best duo!" the boss praises, "We'll leave it to you two then. Meeting adjourned."

It's the two words everyone has been waiting for. The moment the syllable falls, the conference room is filled with the sounds of shifting seats and scuffling feet eager to leave work for the day. With a huff, you shut your laptop and see Daishou coming around the conference table with his laptop and files tucked under his arm. He adjusts and tugs on his tie.

"Guess it's you and me again tonight," Daishou comments.

"And here I wanted to leave work early for once."

"Hey, just a special date night. It's called 'overtime', sounds pretty sexy don't you think?"

You snort and walk past him, going towards the direction of the elevator. Daishou eyes your figure strutting down the hall. The lines of your ironed shirt and the pencil skirt that hugs your figure perfectly match the echoing clack of your heels striking shiny tiles.

Even if you don't remember, Daishou's impeccable memory absolutely remembers how the last time you paired that shirt and that skirt together, it was an overtime situation very much similar to tonight. And the cock that's starting to grow hard in his slacks certainly remembers a lot more. He can feel it twitching just trying to conjure up the sensation of your gummy walls milking him in the breakroom a month ago.

"You coming or what?"

Daishou sees you holding the elevator door open and waiting for him. Daishou won't ever admit to this, maybe to you in privacy, but Daishou will rather be dead than admit to anyone else how lucky he feels to have someone as incredible as you in his life.

He takes a few quick steps and enters the elevator.

"How sweet," he coos. "I knew you wouldn't just leave me hanging and working in this dismal place all alone."

"Shut-up, Suguru," you snap, but you lean your head against his shoulder anyway. It's been such a long day already, and the night is only going to be longer.

"Stay the night at my place later? I'll order your favorite."

"Let's get this project over with first."

"I caught you staring at me during the meeting."

"Huh, is that so."

"Practically stripped me naked with your eyes. Ooh, I felt tingles all over."

You lift your head from his shoulder. "You're so full of yourself Suguru," you remark before tugging on his tie to pull his face closer to yours. "If anything, I think you're the one getting hard at work."

Daishou leans in even closer. A hand encircles your wrist and his thumb brushes your inner-wrist across the bump of the vein. Your pulse is throbbing against his fingertips. You feel your adrenaline and anticipation rushing through your body as your heart pounds harder and faster.

"Then do something to help poor lil' me out?"

"At your place later, we—"

"But I want you so badly right now," Daishou breathes out, body tight against you so you can feel his straining desires through the layers of fabric. "I want—

Ding.

The elevator opens up to the floor the two of you work at. The co-workers waiting for the lift can only see two pristine and exemplary office workers without any semblance of dishevelment walk out. Daishou even says a polite "see you tomorrow" to them.

"If only the elevator stopped working," you joke after taking a deep breath to swallow the fire building in your core. "Sly snake, no one here in the office knows your true colors."

Sometimes, you wonder just how Daishou can switch his persona so quickly. Or maybe he just likes the precarious edge of being horny at work.

"Love you too dear," he sneers.

A couple workers are still at their desks scrambling for their deadlines. You and Daishou take a seat at your work stations and begin to chip away at the urgent, overtime project. Every now and then, you'll say good-night to the other remaining co-workers finally able to go home. It doesn't take long before the halls are completely vacated and empty except for the two of you still slaving away in front of the bright monitors for hours into the night.

"Where are you going?" you ask Daishou who is returning to his seat after disappearing down the hall again. "This is the third time in the last hour. Are you shitting in the toilets or dumping all the work on me?"

Daishou comes by your desk and leans on the back of your chair. "Just making some phone calls. Want to go home now? It's getting late."

"Uh...work's not done yet."

"It's fine, let's have dinner first, we can just work remotely at my place. The bulk is done anyway."

You glance at the clock and ponder Daishou's offer. It doesn't hurt to leave a little early and continue the work later in a more comfortable setting. "Okay, let me pack."

After cleaning up the workstation and packing everything the two of you will need, you and Daishou are back in the hallway waiting for the descending elevator.

Daishou takes the heavy tote bag from your shoulders. “I’ll hold onto this,” he explains.

“Why so nice today, Suguru? First luring me over with food, the compliments, and suggestions to leave early…” You trace a finger along the line of his spine and observe, pleased with the nervous grin spreading on his face. “Someone’s losing patience, hm?”

Daishou gives you an ingratiating smile. “Princess, as fancy as our work is, we still work in client-services. What can I say, I live to serve and please.”

“Cheeky.”

The elevator arrives and the two of you enter the space.

"How long do you think we still need?" you ask Daishou.

"Must we talk about work, right now?"

"You're just horny, Suguru."

"Oh, so it's 'just' me, is that what it is?"

You shrug and admit, "Nah, I was wondering why you didn't suggest anything earlier when the office was empty."

"Baby, if you wanted me that bad, you should've just climbed on my lap."

You laugh at Daishou's retort and prepare a comeback. "I think—"

A loud screech sounds through the elevator and the lights flicker briefly before a jolt causes you to stumble. Your hand automatically flies to the handrail. Daishou also wraps an arm around you tightly to steady your balance.

"Is the..."

"Seems like we're stuck," Daishou comments.

You rapidly press the service bell button, but it's no use. "No one's picking up, it's like the signal got cut. Should've just taken the stairs!"

The cell signal is also terribly weak in the elevator space. There's nothing else to do but wait and see how things play out.

Daishou laughs dryly and smooths his hair back. "We work on the 18th floor, since when do we take the stairs?"

"There's that one evacuation drill..." you reply weakly.

Daishou raises an eyebrow, giving you a look that says, really now?

"You're right, we're doomed. Last moments and—"

"With the love of your life, isn't that pleasant a way to go?" Daishou tightens his arms around you. "Don't worry, it's all going to be okay."

You reciprocate and respond to his hug, while your brain searches for a solution. "I once saw on the internet that if the elevator drops, you have to time your jump right before the elevator hits the ground floor. Otherwise—"

"Shhh," Daishou shushes you quietly with a quick kiss. He rocks you from side to side and reassures you again that everything is okay.

"Trust me, it'll be okay. Let's just have a little fun while we're waiting," he suggests one hand already tracing up your thigh. "Maybe it'll relax all those nerves you've been holding onto."

Daishou wants to laugh. Whose nerves exactly? Do you have any idea how he’s been counting the minutes and seconds for this moment while you innocently worked on the project like the good, model worker that you are?

It took everything in him to somehow put down a few excel formulas and not shove the monitors onto the floor to fuck you senseless across the worktables. Not to mention, the pleasure of having those witty remarks that spurt out from that little mouth of yours replaced with incomprehensible whines and begs for your precious Suguru to fill you to the brim. And now that you also admit to thinking along the same lines earlier, Daishou knows the dirty little thoughts clouding into your mind already.

Some slut that you are, acting proper and put-together at work, basking in the praise from co-workers and the boss; they just don’t know how ten minutes after those morning touchpoint meetings, you are bouncing on Daishou’s cock in a hidden corner while the financial markets open for the day. It’s an art, really, the number of quicks you two manage to fit into the crevices of a busy office schedule. But that’s why Daishou is one of the best employees of the firm. Daishou Suguru works quickly. He works efficiently.

The patterns Daishou's fingers trace tickle and send shivers up the skin. His low voice and hot breath across your ear elicits a soft gasp as you press your thighs together in the tight, figure-hugging skirt, seeking some hidden relief for the needy throb inside. The scrap of fabric down there is barely able to soak up the wetness beginning to pool. You are pressed up against him for comfort and security, your breasts plush against his chest. Each inhale and exhale you take is a test of patience.

"T-there's a camera," you remind him through shaky breaths, eyes flickering to the black mechanism in the corner. This is your final thread.

Daishou eyes the camera that is staring expectantly at the tryst about to happen in the cramped space with a wicked grin. Like that has ever bothered you, but if you want to play coy, he’ll humor you. He pinches the soft flesh on your thighs. "But we both know you're an attention whore. Always wanting to be the center of attention?"

You bite your lip to stop a whimper and look away, unwilling to admit that Daishou is completely right. You're already squirming in anticipation and delight. How cute, Daishou savors before deftly undoing the first two buttons of your crisp blouse. He has all of your clothes memorized, and how to take them off in the least amount of steps. At this point, it's completely second nature, and even if it isn't, the particular outfit you are wearing today has a special pedestal in Daishou's memory of interests. He pulls the tucked fabric apart to expose your delicate neckline and the soft curves of your breasts in the bra.

Oh, this one? What a coincidence then. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and deeply inhales the scent of your lingering fragrance. His hot breath and tantalizing lips drag across your collarbone, brushing your sensitive skin.

"So fucking sexy. Let's put on a show shall we?"

The thread snaps.

You harshly tug on the Daishou’s tie and capture his lips with yours. Daishou presses his body even closer, resting a forearm right above your head to cage you against the elevator wall. You wrap your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his hair, as you meld into the searing kiss. The zipper of your skirt is tugged and the fabric is pushed up to your waist. His hand snakes up your thigh and a thumb hooks the side of your panties, pulling the soaked scrap down.

"Step," he instructs, pulling your panties down all the way and guiding your heeled feet out. "Don't want them dropping on the floor," he says, tucking the bunched fabric into his shirt pocket.

"Touch me, please," you beg, pulling Daishou back to you. You grab his hand and lead him to between your legs, grinding yourself against his thick fingers for some relief.

“No need to rush, the elevator isn't getting fixed anytime soon," he coos, "We're not going to get distracted this time."

Daishou spreads your lips apart and rubs along your sensitive bud, coating his digits with your slick. "Fuck, you're so wet already," he marvels before slipping a finger in and then another.

Daishou pumps his fingers in and out of your sopping pussy, occasionally dragging over to circle your clit. "That's it, isn't it?" he groans, feeling your walls clench around his fingers when he finds the spot that has you falling apart into streams of whines and mewls.

Daishou withdraws his fingers and brings the glistening digits up for you to see. "How much are you enjoying this? Wanting to be fucked in an elevator, watched by who knows who behind that camera."

You whimper and watch Daishou take the coated fingers in his mouth, licking off every drop of you. "You taste so good," he breathes, before pulling you into a kiss and letting you have a taste of your own arousal.

You break out of the kiss and turn around, resting your hands on the handrail. "S-Suguru, want you in me," you beg. You bend over just enough for your Daishou to see how much more wet you've gotten from tasting yourself on him. Your glistening hole is dripping and desperately clenching around nothing.

"Patience, princess." Daishou quickly unbuckles his belt and lets the cock pressing against his tight slacks spring free. He prepares to give himself a few more strokes but you reach behind and slap his hand away, replacing the hand on his cock with your own.

"Fuck," he groans, bucking his hips into your hands. "Always the impatient one."

"Hurry...please."

The building anticipation is making your knees weak and head dizzy already. You keep both hands on the handrails for support and squirm over trying to better line yourself for that thickness you need to fill your hole.

"Shit, stop teasing me!"

Beep.

The emergency intercom you pressed when the elevator first malfunctioned finally lights up. The line connects after a moment of static and radio noise and temporarily shocks a thread of rationality into your thoughts.

"Hello? Hello? Are we connected now, finally? Hello? Can you hear me?" the voice urges from the other end.

"Ah-" you gasp out, feeling Daishou fingers draw out slow circles on your clit. You press your lips tightly together to muffle a moan.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, can you hear me?"

Daishou leans next to your ear. "Answer them, sweetheart." The tip of his cock teases the entrance of your pussy, running along the wet lips. "Do well and I'll give it to you."

You manage, with difficulty, squeak out, "Y-yes!"

"Good girl."

Your legs buckle slightly when you feel Daishou's thick cock being pushed into you, finally giving you the gratification you have been craving during Daishou's ministrations.

"Oh, careful now, don't want you falling over," Daishou's grip on your hips tightens and he groans at how warm, wet and tight you are around him. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good," he mutters under his breath.

The speaker buzzes again. "Great, finally connected. Ma'am are you doing okay still?"

"Yes!" you cry out as Daishou gives a firm and deep thrust; a wave of pleasure shoots through you.

"Don't panic, our team is already coming—" The line disconnects as abruptly.

Daishou revels at how your soft walls hug and clench around him. By all means, he didn't expect the interruption happening at all. It seems like you are not the only impatient person, he wonders, before flashing a nasty look at the camera in the corner and flipping said object off.

"Come on, princess,” he encourages and pats the side of your ass lightly. “Let me hear how pretty you sound."

"Sugu—" you gasp out, feeling the tip of his cock rocking into you. "R-right there right, ah—"

"Yea, you like that?" Daishou groans, pushing into you again feeling your walls clamp around him so tightly. So perfectly. It's addicting and all he can do is thrust in and out, over and over again. Each time seeking out the sounds of your pretty moans when you are completely filled and stuffed with him.

Lewd squelches and the slaps of skin meeting flesh fill the elevator space, along with Daishou’s grunts and your pants. Your hips meet each of Daishou’s thrusts in perfect rhythm, taking his entire length until the base. You can feel each stroke dragging along your walls, the size and length of his cock pushing against your tightness and prodding your cervix.

Neither of you can bother with any other distractions now that bliss is just teetering on the edge. Daishou pulls out and turns you around so you face him. He then scoops you up from under your ass with your legs spread over his forearms and hoists you up against the elevator wall. You feel the stinging cold from the cylindrical edge of the handrail as a dubious support against your heated skin.

"Suguru!" you squeal out, "I'll fall! I'll—"

"I got you, don't worry," Daishou reassures, "You're okay, I won't let you fall."

Once he feels your arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders, Daishou slides into you again with a loud squelch.

"We're right outside now! Won't be long before we get you two out." A loud voice calls out from beyond the shut elevator doors.

"Smile for the camera, princess," Daishou encourages before picking up the pace, chasing the high that's just around the corner. His thrusts become faster and rougher, hitting your sweet spot deep inside you over and over again making your mind spin. The countless reflected images of Daishou's unrelenting pursuit and speed, and the expression of your fucked out face collide together in a blurry, infinite kaleidoscope.

“Gonna cum! Gonna-”

All thoughts leave your mind with each ragged breath as you near your own edge. You can only cling onto Daishou tightly, nails digging into his shoulder and back. You don't hear the sounds of mechanical whirring outside the elevator. Whatever it is that the people are shouting outside does not matter. The bright lights don't make any sense to you anymore. You don't even remember what Daishou Suguru looks like.

The blank stare from the camera is the last thing you see before you squeeze your eyes shut, face tucked in the crook of Daishou’s neck, and body feeling like putty in his arms. All that's left is the euphoria sparking through and broken syllabylic babbles you struggle to utter out.

With a few final thrusts, Daishou grunts and pulls you completely flush against his hips, finally spilling himself into you. Release after a long day never feels this sweet, Daishou muses as he holds your languid body close. Each deep breath you take only pushes your soft breast against his chest, and Daishou can feel your spasming walls still hugging him. He peppers a few kisses on your sweat covered brow. So good, so fucking good.

The voices and mechanical whirs outside interrupt Daishou’s moment.

That’s right, we’re still in this damn elevator. Daishou carefully pulls out his softened and twitching cock and lowers your wobbly form down from your make-shift seat. He takes a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the drool from your face then lightly dab away the trail of mixed fluids seeping out of your puffy cunt. The overly saturated handkerchief does a poor job soaking away the mess the two of you made.

Daishou reaches for the crumpled panties he shoved into the shirt pocket, but decides against letting you wear it. In your current state, your legs are like a newborn deer, barely able to support you let alone try to maneuver into underwear.

"Once we get back to my place, I'll draw us a bath.”

The increasingly loud mechanical clamor and sounds of the elevator workers pull you out of your daze for a moment too. You try to fumble around and haphazardly button your shirt, but the buttons miss their proper buttonhole by one. You pout and look at Daishou who just buckled his belt and tucked in the edges of his crumpled shirt. He looks ready for a client meeting already, if not for the obvious smell of sex clinging into him.

Daishou chuckles at your state and helps you slip into his long coat. He kisses your brow again in apology. "Sorry baby, just bear with it for a moment."

"Hungry."

"Yes, yes. I'll order your favorite too, like I promised."

You nod, pleased with his answer.

Ding.

The doors of the elevator open, to the relief of the elevator workers outside. They were in the process of getting ready to pry the doors open, but it seems like the elevator is back to normal already.

"Sir, Ma'am, we apologize for our tardiness."

Daishou waves a hand. "Not at all, it was fine. My girlfriend," he nods to your hidden form in the coat, "a bit frazzled, that's all."

Daishou's coat is like a bathrobe and hides absolutely everything. Turn up the collar, hide your face in Daishou's neck, and no one can see the mess that you are still underneath the thick layer. If they don't look, they won't know about the cum that's already dripping out and trailing down the curves of your legs into your scuffed heels.

"Is she okay? If there are any problems, we can direct you to-"

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of her. Thanks for helping fix the elevator." Not that there was anything wrong with it to begin with.

"We'll be inspecting all the elevators in the building as well. We assure you this will never happen again."

The musty smell of sweat and sex is all that lingers in the elevator, but it'll dissipate soon enough. Maybe there are tiny puddles of your juices on the tiles but the 5 A.M. cleaning workers will wipe it all away. By tomorrow, the elevator and rest of the building will be just the way it always is again. The stainless steel is cold, and the glass panels are pristine. In the early hours of the morning, leather shoes and heels will be strutting around on the marbled floors. Phone calls. Printers. Clients. Meetings. And more overtime.

Daishou smirks to himself, supporting just about your entire weight. His phone rings in his coat pocket. He reaches for the device and answers the call. Those bastards.

"Heh, glad you enjoyed the show you fucker. And tell Kenma, 'that was a dick move he pulled back there.'"

He listens to the response from the other line.

"Yea sure, thanks for hacking the system...uh huh, tell him to cum in your dirty sock-rag then...yea whatever, go eat shit."

Daishou ends the call and shoves the phone into his pocket.

"Su-gu-ru..." you mumble.

"Yes princess?"

"...Pitchbook..."

Daishou presses a light kiss to your forehead. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart."

Even all fucked out, you still manage to not forget about corporate responsibilities, some overachieving show-off you are. After getting you cleaned up and warm, he'll finish up any remaining work. Daishou Suguru works quickly. He works efficiently.

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #daishou x reader smut #daishou smut #daishou x reader #tw exhibitionism #tw voyeurism #emi.freshtea #ch daishou #in celebration of cleaning up the main whooowheeewhoo #🍵.daishou

[kuroo-shitsurou]

Bestfriend (College!Childe x College!Reader) PART 1

note: hello! i'm going to be making an entire college au series for the genshin characters ehe. this is a pretty lengthy one so i had to cut it into two parts. i hope you enjoy!

word count: 4.4k

"Why can't I get this shit to work?!"

You checked the clock.

3:28 AM.

Great. You had a half-seven morning class with professor Cyrus, and yet, here you were. Baking cookies at 3:28 AM. Although, baking wasn't really the appropriate term for it. Maybe... burning was a better fit.

You weren't a culinary arts major; Far from it, actually. You were in a college course that needed immense analytical and critical thinking skills: Accounting. You loved your course. You were always amazed by how numbers can always add up properly if you analyzed all the transactions properly beforehand. It also gave you more patience to thoroughly understand each problem presented to you so that you'd end up with the right answer in the end.

Which is why you were so dumbfounded when your cookies looked like pieces of charcoal the moment you took them out of the oven.

You followed the recipe, didn't you? Why don't your baked goodies look like those gorgeous gooey chocolate chip cookies on the website?

That was the... fourth batch of cookies you made that night. Frustrated, you carelessly threw the still-hot baking sheet in the sink. You didn't even mind that there were crumbs and burnt cookie residue in your damp sink. Like, there were burnt cookies on your counter, on your dining table, and even on your stovetop. Why be bothered about the sink, right? You could clean it up in the morning, anyway.

"Why am I even doing this?" You sighed, eyeing how there was a bit of black smoke coming out of your oven. You opened a window and fanned it out to prevent the smoke detector from going off. You didn't need more nuances adding to your already dwindling patience.

Taking in the sight of the flour, sugar, and egg-coated workstation you had, you realized that baking just wasn't your forte. If only your boyfriend was interested in receiving his complete financial statements for the year, then maybe you'd have an easier time in thinking of a present for his birthday.

You looked at the calendar.

July 20th.

It was the day of Childe's birthday.

He informed you yesterday that his friends had invited him to go to a party the night of the 20th to celebrate his birthday, and you politely declined his offer for you to be his plus one. Of course, he was disappointed. You could notice by how his cerulean eyes drooped to the floor and how his thin, pink lips pushed themselves into a pout.

"But... You have to be there, _____." He whined, taking your hands in his.

"I know, Childe. But you know that I have to review my presentation for professor An's class. It's going to make or break my term grade." You were disappointed. You wanted to spend the entire day with Childe, maybe cuddled up in bed, eating hot pizza and watching Netflix. However, you knew how much he loved partying and hanging out with his friends- Kaeya, was it? and the other boys in their fraternity. You disapproved of his frat-boy party-going lifestyle, but you didn't want to impose, so you just kept it to yourself.

"But it's my birthday," He reasoned, voice laced with sadness.

"I know, darling. I know. We can still spend the entire afternoon together before you head out to party with your friends... If you want. You're free for the entire day, right?" Your voice faltered a bit, unsure of whether he'd accept your proposal or not.

"Mhm! I'd be more than happy to spend the whole afternoon tomorrow with you, babe. We can hit the amusement park, or maybe watch a movie, or maybe have a picnic, or..."

As Childe continued to ramble on about all the possible plans you could do tomorrow, you couldn't help but smile at him. How his demeanor changed, and how he could never seem to hold a grudge against you even if he was upset. He spoiled you so much and you wanted to let him know that you appreciate him as much as he loves you.

And... Here you were.

You didn't expect baking to be so hard. You thought that following a simple recipe would lead to a great outcome the first time around.

Look how that turned out for you. Your tokens of appreciation for Childe were there. In the sink, on the counter, on the dining table, and on the stovetop. All burnt and inedible.

"Fuck this baking thing, I'll just get Zhongli to help me before lunch." You muttered, taking off your apron and retreating to your couch. You didn't want to sleep in your bed because your clothes were still messy, but you were too tired to clean up (too pissed to even care, to be honest).

And so, you flopped on the couch and set an alarm for 6:00 AM before you drifted off to sleep, dreaming of burnt baking pans and noisy smoke detectors.

-

The annoying sound of your alarm rang in your ears like a never-ending mockery of how your life is going. Why do morning classes exist? Why do alarms exist?

You groggily rubbed your eyes and rolled off the couch, landing on the carpet with a soft "thud". You blindly felt around the coffee table to look for your phone. Upon feeling the silicone texture of your case, you pulled it towards your chest and squinted your eyes as the bright display of the lock screen glared against your eyeballs.

You opened your phone by using the passcode (0720, go ahead and guess what that means) and tapped on the green message icon to open your texts. You then quickly typed out a message for a certain history major.

[ Hey, Zhongli, mind if you help me out before lunch later so I could bake some cookies for Childe? ]

Sent 6:04 AM.

You looked up at the ceiling and waited for a while, already planning out your itinerary for the day. The ding! of your phone was heard, waking you more than you already were.

[ I don't see why not. I have a vacant period right before lunch. I'm off at 9:00 and I'm vacant until noon. Are you free then? ]

Received 6:06 AM.

You couldn't help but grin. Zhongli was so kind. He was Childe's friend since high school, and although you found him somehow... creepy because of the knowledge he possesses (Seriously, was his brain implanted with a computer chip or something?), you still considered him a good friend.

[ Thank you so much! Yeah, I only have one class today anyway. I'll meet you in front of the main building by 9:00. ]

Sent 6:08 AM.

You got up from the carpet and stretched for a bit, wincing when the small burn on your arm stung. You had a few cuts and burns on your hands, fingers, and arms because of how clumsy you were in the kitchen, but it was fine. Who doesn't fuck up from time-to-time

You headed to the kitchen to clean up. You dumped all the burnt biscuits into a large garbage bag, wiped the counters, and put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Most of the mess was already gone and disposed of, and you whispered to yourself that you could probably deep-clean later that evening after reviewing your presentation.

The ding! of your phone brought your attention back, and you smiled at Zhongli's response.

[ I'll see you then, _____. I appreciate you doing all this for Childe. ]

Received 6:15 AM.

You quickly made your way to your bedroom and grabbed different pieces to throw together a decent outfit. You assumed that Childe wouldn't let you go by the time that your little date would begin, so it's best to be prepared.

You hopped in the shower and did your morning routine, making sure to use your favorite body wash, which happened to be Childe's favorite scent. You dried your hair afterwards and threw on the outfit you prepared earlier. You checked your phone.

6:45 AM.

There weren't any new messages from Childe, so you assumed that he was still asleep. After all, it's his day-off from uni. The lucky bastard got to get one whole day without lectures, and the freest day you had still required you to attend one morning lecture.

"I have to rush to McDonald's if I want to make it in time," You whispered, grabbing your bag and slipping your shoes on before rushing out the door.

You wanted to buy Childe a nice breakfast before heading to your own class. So, you sprinted to the McDonald's just a corner away from your dorm and stood in line. You ordered his favorite breakfast meal: A big breakfast deluxe set with hot chocolate, five-piece nuggets, and a side of apple pie. You also ordered a McGriddle for yourself that you could sneakily bite out of in class.

Childe's apartment was right beside the McDonald's you went to, so it wasn't any trouble reaching where he was. You checked your phone again.

7:10 AM.

Crap. Twenty minutes until your lecture with professor Cyrus. Childe still seemed to be asleep, so you decided to leave his breakfast with the receptionist, Verr Goldet. She already knew who you were because of how often Childe invites you to his apartment.

"I'm really sorry to leave this with you, Verr. But I have to get to class in twenty minutes and I think that Childe is still asleep." You said sheepishly, placing the paper bag on her counter and fiddling with the strap of your bag.

"Oh, _____, you act as if I'm a stranger!" She laughed, taking the paper bag and placing it behind her. "Don't worry, I'll keep it warm for him. Would you like to leave a note?"

"Ah, yes please!" You took a piece of paper and a pen from your bag and scribbled a short message for the ginger.

Happy birthday, Childe! Have a hearty breakfast, I got your favorites. I'll see you later for lunch, okay? I love you! ♡

You tried to make your handwriting as neat as possible, and even added a messy doodle of the man himself. Although, it did look more like a potato than the man you were trying to draw.

"How cute you are." Verr sighed, "It must be nice to feel the wonders of youth."

"Thank you so much, Verr! I really have to get going if I want to get to uni in time."

"You're welcome, _____!"

You bid your farewells and headed out of the apartment's lobby, walking towards the shuttle stop nearest to you. You had at least fifteen minutes before professor Cyrus' class. The shuttle was about ten minutes away from uni, and it would take you a little over five minutes to get to his lecture hall. While waiting for the shuttle, you quickly tapped out a message for your boyfriend.

[ I left something with Verr for you downstairs. You better get it as soon as you wake up ♡ ]

Sent 7:15 AM.

The shuttle arrived as soon as you hit send. You showed your ID to the driver and scrambled for a seat, shoving earbuds in your ears to drown out the rest of the world with a bit of music. Fortunately, the shuttle ride was quicker than usual since there were lesser stops for that day. You gave a light bow to the driver before you rushed out of the shuttle doors and bolted to get to your lecture hall.

It was on the third floor of the left wing of the main building. You were desperately trying to catch your breath as you felt a burn rising in your lungs. You wanted to puke because of how hungry and tired you felt so early in the morning, but you brushed it off.

You sprinted down the hallway to professor Cyrus' lecture hall, seeing that nearly all the seats were occupied. There were still a few vacant seats at the back, but you were glad to see your friend, Xingqiu, waving you over from the middle row.

"Thanks for saving me a seat," You thanked your blue-haired friend, fixing your hair and disheveled clothes. You sat down just in time as professor Cyrus walked into the lecture hall and began setting up his laptop to present.

"No worries. I knew you'd be late. It's Childe's birthday today, no? You've been talking about it all week. I already expected that you'd do something for him this morning." He said, not even batting an eyelash as he carefully opened his laptop in front of him.

"That predictable, huh?" You chuckled, placing your own laptop on the table and taking out the McGriddle you shoved in your bag earlier. Professor Cyrus seemed to be tweaking a few things on his presentation, so you decided to use the spare minutes to eat the sandwich you purchased.

You scarfed it down in a few bites, leaving Xingqiu confused and a bit scared. He thought you were going to choke.

"Didn't you have breakfast before you left your dorm?" He asked, marveling at how you managed to eat the McGriddle in- four, maybe five? bites.

"I mean, I bought this," You said, motioning to the crumpled up wrapper in your hand. "It was getting late since I dropped by Childe's apartment to leave him his breakfast."

"How charming of you, _____." Xingqiu chuckled, slipping on his glasses.

"I wonder if he's awake now," You mumbled, loud enough for Xingqiu to hear, but he didn't react to it.

You opened your phone and saw seven messages from your dorky boyfriend.

[ _____ you're gonna make me cry ]

Sent 7:28 AM.

[ Where are you now? Are you already at uni? ]

Sent 7:29 AM.

[ God, I love you so much, _____! You even got me nuggets!! ]

Sent 7:30 AM.

[ I love you sooo much!! You're so cute it's unreal!! Btw, is this supposed to be me?? Do I really look like that??!! ]

Sent 7:31 AM.

[ I'm so lucky to have you, _____. You really are the sweetest!! ]

Sent 7:31 AM.

[ I'll see you later at noon. I'll pick you up at your dorm, okay? ]

Sent 7:32 AM.

[ You must be in class now. Good luck!! I'm already eating. Thank you so much, darling! I love you!! ♡ ]

Sent 7:34 AM.

You couldn't help but smile at how his aura radiated even through the screen of your phone. You clicked on the notification from Instagram and it opened to a video on Childe's story. It was a boomerang of him making a winky face and then showing his meal neatly placed on his table.

There was a caption beside a heart sticker which read:

What a great way to start my birthday. Thanks to my lovely @_____. I love you so much! ♡

A familiar warmth spread throughout your chest and you couldn't help but smile at how sweet he was. It was amazing, really. Childe's words and actions always had such an effect on you, and it didn't even matter how you were the one who did a romantic gesture for him because you were here all blushy and gushy over his sickeningly sweet messages of affection.

You put your phone away as soon as professor Cyrus soon started his lecture on the different trading policies limited by oversea regulations- or something like that.

The lesson itself was interesting, but you couldn't help to nod off and daydream about your wonderfully dorky boyfriend and his beautiful eyes, his cute button nose, his slim cheeks, his pink lips.

Childe sneezed.

-

As soon as the last bell rang, you quickly gathered your things and shoved them in your bag. You nodded a swift goodbye to Xingqiu before running off to the entrance of the main building.

Zhongli messaged you that his lecture ended earlier than expected, and that he was waiting for you by the entrance already.

You saw the brunette sitting on one of the benches, a thick history book in hand and reading glasses firmly sitting on top of his nose. You noticed a few girls just a couple of feet away from him. They were eyeing him up, probably drinking in the sight of this beautifully constructed creature.

You chuckled. It was common for you to be more aware of people fawning over Childe and Zhongli. They were a couple of incredibly hot males, you knew that. You got used to the sight of other people gawking and eye-fucking your boyfriend and his bestfriend that it was just hilarious and amusing at this point.

"Zhong!" You called, earning the attention of both Zhongli and the group of girls.

"Ah, _____. Glad you're finally here." He closed his book and tucked it away in his satchel (This man owned a satchel) before he stood up to greet you.

"Were you waiting long? Sorry." You said sheepishly.

"No, not at all. I was enthralled by this one chapter on the Ming Dynasty and their more underrated feats. History never fails to amuse me." Zhongli replied, a glint sparkling in his amber eyes.

"Hey, um," You inched yourself closer to him, "Mind if we go on ahead? Some of your fangirls are scaring the hell out of me." From the corner of your eye, you could see how they were drilling holes at your head from staring too hard. You could've sworn one girl was even holding her phone up, as if taking a photo.

"What?" The taller man whipped around to look at the girls and they scurried off upon seeing the intimidating glare in his eyes.

"You and Childe really attract attention everywhere you go, don't you?" You chuckled, walking towards the shuttle station.

"Childe, certainly. He, along with his... fraternity brothers do attract quite the crowd whenever they are together. As for myself, I doubt it. I'm more of the silent-type compared to him, anyway."

"Are you kidding me?" You bit your tongue to hold back the thought.

"I see."

"Those girls look familiar, though." He mentioned.

"Oh? Maybe history majors as well?"

"_____, if they were history majors, I would've at least recognized their faces more clearly. I feel like I've seen them somewhere."

"Ah, my bad. You and your eerily accurate memory." You teased, climbing onto the shuttle and sitting on one of the empty seats.

"It is not eerie, thank you very much." He retorted with a snarky tone, joining you on the seat.

"Of course it isn't. You remember what I said to Childe when we were watching that one movie Rex Lapis: Revenge of the Fallen?"

"Indeed I do. You said, "Rex Lapis would be hot if he was a human, don't you think?" and Childe replied, "Yeah, but I could probably beat him up. I'd be way hotter than him." It was comedy, really. Rex Lapis, although a fictional figure, has far more capabilities than Childe could even dream of."

"Do you... not see the eerie part of that?"

"What? That Childe thinks he can beat up an actual Archon?"

"No... Zhongli, we watched that movie three years ago."

"Your point is?"

"...I can't even remember what I had for lunch yesterday."

"Childe bought you some sushi."

"See what I mean?!"

"That means you have a poor memory, _____." Zhongli laughed at your face curling into a frown. "Anyway, while you were entertaining me with your banter, I recalled why those girls are so familiar."

"Do tell."

"They're part of Childe's posse."

You could've sworn your heart leapt to your throat. You knew that your boyfriend was pretty much sculpted by the Archons themselves, but, really? a fucking posse?

Zhongli noticed how the lump in your throat bobbed, and he decided that it was better to calmly explain how and why he knew about it.

"See, it was during the first year of university. Childe started hanging around Kaeya and his other fraternity brothers. There was this one occasion where Childe was nearly black-out drunk in a bar. If I didn't see on Kaeya's Instagram story, I wouldn't have known," You noticed how Zhongli's face visibly darkened, "These girls were hanging off him like koalas to a strong tree branch. It was unsightly."

"I... see."

"Although he was about to pass out, he pushed them away. Charming, really. He was already crazy about you even during the first year of uni. Even though you weren't together yet, he didn't want to "cheat" on you by entertaining other females." A soft smile made its way to your face upon hearing Zhongli's confession about how your boyfriend felt about you.

"I'm determined to make these cookies a success," You said determinedly.

"Glad to hear it. It seems we're already at your dormitory. You still have enough ingredients for the cookies, right? I assume you failed quite a few times yesterday."

"How did you even know?"

Zhongli once again laughed as you stepped off the shuttle, "Lucky guess."

Unbeknownst to the two of you, three figures were following you the moment you left the campus.

-

"_____ is so sweet! They got my favorite breakfast this morning." Childe mindlessly gushed over his significant other.

Diluc wasn't really one to listen to other people ramble on and on about feelings and love and romance, but it was his friend's birthday. He'd let it slide.

"Bro, that's just gross," Kaeya spat, taking a chug of his beer.

"Oh, shut up, Kaeya. Just because you don't plan on committing to anyone doesn't mean the people around you are obligated to do so as well." Diluc rebutted, without even looking up from his journal.

"You're in college. It's the time when you're supposed to have a shit ton of flings, no commitment. And yet you're here being loyal to _____?" Kaeya glared at Diluc, but the redhead only flipped him off.

"I don't see the problem with that." Childe spoke up, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. It was a gift from you during your first anniversary. You said you made it yourself, and although Childe could purchase all the expensive jewelry and accessories he wanted, this particular bracelet meant more to him than anything.

"The problem is _____'s going to hold you back!" Childe knew that Kaeya was half-drunk and it was still before noon, so he didn't really take his words seriously. "They aren't going to the party later, right?"

"No, unfortunately. They have to review a presentation for professor An's class."

"Hah! Review my ass. If I knew any better, that little toy of yours is just messing around with some other dude."

"Watch yourself." Childe stood up from his seat. He knew that Kaeya disapproved of their relationship because it wasn't really a "frat-boy" thing, but he didn't care about that. He cared about you more than a stupid reputation, and definitely more than a stupid lifestyle of partying, getting high, and getting drunk.

"Back up, softie. _____'s pussyness rubbing of on 'ya?" Kaeya's words were slurred, but Childe knew that there was malicious intent behind them.

"Look, I don't care about what you say about me. Call me a softie? Call me a pussy? I don't really give a shit. But the moment you start shitting on my _____? Don't even consider that I'd just stand around and let them be slandered, you piece of fuck." Childe was a few centimeters taller than Kaeya, and he always used that to his advantage when he wanted Kaeya to understand his point.

"Whatever you fucking say. It's your birthday, I'm not gonna fight with you on your birthday." Kaeya lightly pushed Childe away from him before downing the rest of the beer can in his hand.

"Don't mind him," Diluc spoke, staring into Childe's eyes. "He never thinks straight, whether drunk or sober."

"Yeah, I kinda got the message." The ginger chuckled, watching as Kaeya nearly tripped over his own feet while walking towards the case of beer supposedly for the party tonight.

"I'm glad that you and _____ are still getting along. It's refreshing to see normal people once in a while."

"Well, when you put it that way." Childe could only laugh.

"Where's the tall brunette at? Isn't he always with you?"

"Ah, you mean Zhongli? I don't know, actually. He has a lecture this morning and I wanted to meet him for a light meal before lunch, but he isn't answering my texts."

"I see."

As if on cue, Childe's phone emitted a soft ding!

He typed in his password and the screen faded into a photo of you. You were wearing one of his hoodies (it was way too big on you) and he could've fainted because of how absolutely adorable you looked.

He received a few Instagram DMs from Ellin. Ellin was a member of their posse. Childe would rather refer to them as "fraternity friends", but she insisted otherwise.

[ You're seriously praising _____ for being a good partner? Poor you, dear. ]

Received 9:41 AM.

He frowned.

[ What are you talking about? Mind your business. ]

Sent 9:42 AM.

[ Oh? It's not my business, sure. But you might wanna see this. ]

Received 9:44 AM.

[ 3 Images Attached ]

Received 9:44 AM.

Childe's eyes widened. Ellin sent three photos.

The first one was a photo of you and Zhongli standing awfully close to each other in front of the university's main building.

The second one was of you and Zhongli sitting beside each other in the shuttle.

The last one was... you and Zhongli entering your dormitory building.

"What the..."

He checked his messages to see if either you or Zhongli texted him about the ordeal. However, he was only greeted by messages wishing him a happy birthday from some of his family and friends back in their hometown. No messages from Zhongli, and no new ones from you.

"What the hell?"

He quickly typed out a message for his bestfriend. He didn't jump to conclusions; He trusted both of you, but what was this feeling in his gut? It felt icky, gross, and disgusting.

[ Where are you rn? Answer me. ]

Sent 9:46 AM.

His foot tapped against the floor at a rapid pace. Diluc wanted to question him, but the worried look on the ginger's face made him bite his tongue.

Childe wasn't the type of person to jump to conclusions, nor was he the type of person to get upset immediately over trivial things. But upon receiving an irksome reply from the amber-eyed bestfriend he knew and love, his blood began to boil.

[ None of your business. ]

Received 10:05 AM.

#genshin #genshin impact #gi #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #gi x reader #childe #ajax #tartaglia #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #im gonna fucking cry i love this ginger man so much #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #genshin fanfic #genshin ajax

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Chapter 2

A/N I am breaking probably the only rule I gave myself when I started writing fanfic, which was Don’t Ever Post a WIP.  But lord knows I’m not immune to peer pressure and the narcotic that is reader feedback, so here it is, the second chapter of what is now an open-ended modern AU story about Jamie the Chef and Claire the Kitchen Disaster.  Still a first person Claire POV, so I apologize in advance for any stray pronouns.

For the first chapter, I recommend reading it on Ao3, since I’ve made some minor edits since I first posted it on Tumblr.  See above re. not planning on posting a WIP.

Oh, and funny story.  When I decided to check the location of the real Ginger Snap catering company in Edinburgh, it was squished between “FrazersOnline” and “McKenzie Flooring”.  If that’s not kismet, I don’t know what is.  The location I describe below, however, is based on a catering venue here in Ottawa called Urban Element, where I’ve attended a few team-building events.  I have yet to set anything on fire, though.

I checked my phone for the third time, confirming I wasn’t lost.  

Frank and I moved to Edinburgh over the summer, just in time for him to start his position as Associate Professor of History at the University of Edinburgh. Despite our years spent in America, neither of us cared overmuch for driving, so we chose a flat (or rather, Frank chose a flat and I concurred) not far from campus.  Therefore, this was the first time I’d ventured as far afield as Leith, a maritime enclave just to the north of the capital that couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to be grittily working class or artistically hip. 

When I finally reached the address, I had to smile.  No main street pretensions or non-descript commercial frontage for Ginger Snap Catering.  Before me stood a two-story red brick fire station, still emblazoned with the crest of the Scottish Fire and Rescue Services.  The two massive truck bays were now enclosed by see-through doors that could be drawn back on a sunny day.  Through these a warm yellow light could be seen, spilling onto the grey, damp pavement.

A petite woman with dark hair manned the small reception area, a red-haired toddler clinging to her like a marsupial.  She held a phone to one ear while simultaneously pacing the polished concrete floor.  I stood as unobtrusively as possible near the door, but in such an open space it was impossible not to overhear her side of the conversation.

“... they willna take ‘im back until ‘is fever goes down...  aye, an hour ago when I picked him up but it hasn’t... nay, i dinna think it’s... tis jus’ terrible timing with two weddings t’morrow... Could ye?  Och, I owe ye Mrs. Fitz, a million times o’er... Anytime, we’ll be here.  Alright, soon.”

The speaker turned to me, the harried look of a working mother sharpening her already honed features.

“I apologize fer keeping ye waiting.  What can I do fer ye t’day?”

Before I could respond, the young boy, probably no older than two, began to fuss, rubbing his flushed cheek against his mother’s shoulder.

���Och, mo ghille, Mam kens ye’re poorly.  Mrs. Fitz is coming as fast as she may.”

Unable to quell my instinct to diagnose and then cure, I spoke up.  

“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.  Based on his age and the way he’s holding his head, it may be an ear infection.”  At the woman’s penetrating look, I hastened to explain: “I’m a doctor.  Would you mind if I took a closer look?”

Permission granted, I carefully palpated the boy under the jaw and peered as best I could without an otoscope into the offending ear canal.  Confident in my diagnosis, I recommended treatment with a warm compress, an over-the-counter analgesic ear drop, and children’s paracetamol to control his fever.  If, after twenty-four hours the symptoms had not improved, they could consider seeing his pediatrician for antibiotics, but these were only truly necessary for a persistent infection.

“Och, ye ‘ave no idea what a relief it is tae hear ye say so, lass.  He’s my first bairn, ye ken, an’ I can ne’er tell if I’m over-reacting or being negligent.   Can ye say thank ye tae the nice doctor, Wee Jamie?”

My stomach jumped.  “Wee Jamie?  Is he related by chance to Jamie Fraser?”

“Aye, tis his nephew.  I’m Jamie’s sister, Jenny.  Ye ken my brother, then?”

The pieces fell into place, and my insides settled.

“We’ve spoken before,” I explained.  “I’m Claire Beauchamp.  You and your brother helped me with a dinner party emergency last Tuesday.  I came to return your market bags, and to thank you again for coming to my aid during my hour of need.”

Jenny and I spoke for another ten minutes, sharing the superficial narratives of two strangers brought together by circumstance.  She was warm and thistly by turns, and I felt a longing for the honesty of female friendship that I’d given up when we left Boston.  Eventually a matronly woman arrived to collect Wee Jamie.  I carefully wrote down the exact names and dosages of my prescribed remedy.

After Mrs. Fitz and Wee Jamie had left, it occurred to me that Jenny needed to get back to work.  I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do, even if I hadn’t thanked Jamie himself.   As I began to make my goodbyes, however, Jenny interjected. “If ye’re no’ in a rush, why dinna ye join our afternoon cooking class?  My brother will be demonstrating how tae make quiche.  Tis the least we can do, after ye helped Wee Jamie.”

Which was how I found myself standing behind one of six cooking stations arranged across the fire station’s main area, a bright red apron covering my black slacks and saffron turtleneck.  My impetuous curls were slowly breaking ranks from where I’d slicked them into a bun that morning.  I worried I looked like a human Pez dispenser.

I glanced at the workstation immediately to my left.  A slight woman who I guessed to be roughly my own age was engrossed in her phone, a cheeky smirk playing on her berried lips.  Her strawberry blond hair was swept into an effortless chignon that made me twitch with envy.  She looked up from her screen and caught me looking her way.

“Geillis Duncan,” she said, offering a well-manicured hand.

“Claire Beauchamp.  Pleased to meet you.”

“Is it yer first time taking a class, Claire?”  At my nod, she leaned in and whispered conspiratorially: “Ye’re in for a treat.”

Before I could enquire what she meant, a murmur amongst the other students (all women, save one) was accompanied by the heavy tread of work boots on polished concrete and a familiar Scottish burr.

“Good afternoon, everyone.  Thank ye fer joining me on this dreich Scottish day.  I ken a few of ye are new, so let’s start with a brief overview of yer stations and some basic safety reminders, before we tackle the quiche.”

Today Jamie was wearing a pair of olive pants that tapered down his endless legs and a technical shirt that clung valiantly to his upper body.  He looked like he’d just stepped off the nearest rock climbing pitch.  I wondered if he owned anything that answered to the name of a professional wardrobe, but I couldn’t deny that he looked impressive, in an athleisure sort of way.

“See what I mean?” Geillis hissed at me as Jamie made his way to the front of the hall, speaking now about optimal burner temperatures.  “That man is a dozen kinds of yes.”

I concentrated on each step of the ostensibly simple recipe.  Pie crust had been the previous week’s assignment, so I had only to blind bake the prepared dough already at my workstation.  Once I had the crust centered exactly in the pie pan, pierced with a fork in orderly rows and placed in the oven, I rushed to catch up with the others.  I’d missed Jamie’s instructions regarding pan frying the bacon, so I increased the flame, thinking I could make up a little time.  The fatty meat crackled pleasingly as I set it in the lightly greased pan.  I was inordinately proud of myself.

Things went very badly, very fast.  First, my eyes wouldn’t stop watering as I meticulously peeled then dissected the onion into near-transparent crescents. Tears obscured my vision and I tried to wipe them away without contaminating my hands.  To my left I could make out Geillis skillfully cracking eggs into a glass bowl, her pie crust already elegantly filled with crispy morsels of bacon and caramelized onion bits.  

A vague sense of having forgotten something important tickled my mind.  My pie crust!  Grabbing a silicone glove (I wasn’t making that mistake twice) I rushed to the wall oven and extracted the pan.  Giddy with relief, I saw the dough was only a little dark around the edges.  

Before I could return victorious to my station, Jamie uttered a Scottish noise of alarm from his vantage at the front of the class.   We both rushed across the room to where my rashers of bacon now resembled blackened shoe laces obscured by a heavy veil of smoke.  With practiced ease, Jamie lifted the entire skillet into the adjacent sink and turned on the cold water.  A cloud of steam enveloped his head, highlighting his auburn curls.  I bit my lip as he looked my way in amusement.

“I hope ye werena planning on serving quiche to yer faculty guests t’night, Ms. Beauchamp?”

I stood meekly next to Geillis for the remainder of the class, no longer trusted around open flame without adult supervision.   She graciously allowed me to extract her quiche when it was done baking.  It looked like a magazine cover.  Meanwhile, my workstation looked like the scene of an industrial accident.

While we were waiting for her quiche to cook, Geillis and I got to know each other a little better.  She was a Highland lass from up near Inverness.  Married to a wealthy older man, her life sounded like an endless quest for diversion.  Despite this, or because of it, she had a sharp-witted frankness that I appreciated.  She was also a hard-core gossip.

“Wee besom,” she remarked with a nod towards a blond girl who was currently monopolizing Jamie’s attention with endless questions punctuated by manufactured giggles and flicks of her pin-straight hair.  “Tha’s Laoghaire Mackenzie of the Mackenzie brewing dynasty.  They’ve a live-in cook, so there’s only one reason she attends these classes, and it isna for the quiche.”

I watched Jamie laugh over something the girl said, mineral eyes alight and his perfect white teeth on display.  I suppose I couldn’t blame her.  I wasn’t here for the quiche either.

The interminable ninety minute lesson finally ended.  I thanked Geillis profusely and we exchanged numbers before she rushed off for her reiki treatment.  Gathering my trench coat and purse, I tried to slink away without calling any further attention to myself.

“Ms. Beauchamp!”

I cursed under my breath, then turned to face him.

“Please, call me Claire.  After I nearly burned down your place of business, we should probably be on a first name basis.”

Jamie chuckled. It sounded more natural and lived-in than his earlier response to Laoghaire, but I was likely fooling myself.

“Och, wha’s a cooking demonstration wi’out a wee bit of drama.  Will ye be joining us next week?  We’ll be making ceviche, sae I willna need tae put the fire brigade on stand-by.”

“Bastard,” I replied to his cheeky smirk.  “Alas, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a cook.  It appears to be the one science I can’t master.”

“Cooking isna a science, Claire,” he explained with sincere intensity.  “Tis an art.  Perhaps tha’s the root of yer struggle.”

“Perhaps it is.  But in that case, I may as well give up now.  I haven’t an artistic bone in my body.”

His languorous perusal of said body lit a different kind of flame in my belly.  Geillis was right; he really was a dozen kinds of yes.

“I canna say as I agree.  Come back any time if ye’d like tae try again.”

I blushed, thoroughly discomfited by his blatant flirting.  He knew about Frank.  He’d fled from him onto my fire escape, for Christ’s sake!  Maybe when you looked like James Fraser, every interaction with a woman was merely a chance to hone your craft.  Or maybe he was truly ignorant of his effect.

“I’ll take that under advisement.  Thank you again, Jamie.”

“Until the next time, Arsonist.”

#my writing #outlander #ginger snap

[dinosaurtsukki]

the language of flowers | an akaashi x gn!reader fic

hey dino!! could i request a short fluffy fic about someone having a crush on akaashi and works part time in a flower shop? they start leaving him flowers with meanings behind them and a letter anonymously on his desk in school. eventually, they get caught and confesses to him?? im a sucker for flower shop aus and i'd love to see what kind of flowers you would use!!  ٩(●˙▿˙●)۶…⋆ฺ -🍙 

-- ahhh this request was so fun to write !! i planned it a while ago and just wrote it all down in one sitting hehe. i hope you like this !!

pairing: akaashi keiji x gn!reader

word count: 2k words

contains: fluff !!, lots of flowers and their meanings, hints at a mystery novel night, high school au 

summary: akaashi keiji has been receiving flowers from a ‘mystery florist’ (aka, you) for quite a whole. except, he might be crushing on someone else.

a/n: requested by the amazing onigiri-anon !! i really wanted this to be more of a full-length fic because of how cute it is so i hope you guys enjoy it !!

the first flowers akaashi had received from you were twin alstroemerias: one in orange and one in white. he actually had no idea what the flowers’ names were because he had never seen any quite like it. both of the flowers had three main petals and three smaller petals closer to the center that had dark little stripes on them. the white one had a slight touches of pink and yellow in the very center.

akaashi saw the two flowers, wrapped in a pink satin ribbon, on his desk one day after class had ended. it was a few days after finals had ended and he was still feeling bitter loss that hit the volleyball team. but, the sight of the flowers: bright and fresh and sunny, put a little smile on his face. 

when he was at home, he decided to look up what the flowers were. it took a great deal of searching through ‘flower pictures’ on google images for him to actually find the name: alstroemeria, also known as peruvian lily. and, because he was curious as to why there would be flowers on his desk, he looked up whether there was a meaning behind the flower.

white alstroemerias meant ‘concern for a loved one who isn’t feeling well’ and orange ones were ‘working towards ones goals.’ akaashi smiled and placed the flowers in a jar full of water on his desk. he didn’t know who it was, but there was someone out there looking out for him.

...

“afternoon, akaashi.” 

“afternoon, y/n,” akaashi greeted, sitting down on the table next to you. as usual, you were the first two people in the clubroom. that was mostly because your other members of the literature club were freshmen who volunteered for a ton of other clubs but akaashi didn’t exactly mind. he liked your company.

“another gerbera?” you asked, pointing at the flower in his hand. 

“yeah,” akaashi smiled. “it was on my desk this morning.” he had already looked up what the meaning behind that flower after he got it for the first time and saw that it meant ‘cheer up.’ “it came at pretty nice timing too,” he added. it was a pretty stressful week for akaashi with cram school every day and having to study for entrance exams. the flowers were always tied with a pink, satin ribbon. 

“are you still on the lookout for who your mystery florist is?” you teased, looking up over the book you were reading.

“i still haven’t stopped my search,” akaashi said, lightly running his hands through the silky flower petals. “well, i do kind of like that they’re this mystery person. i never thought that receiving flowers would be this, well, nice.”

“good for you,” you smiled and returned to your book, sneaking glances once in a while at akaashi as he admired the flower. unbeknownst to him, you were the mystery florist who had been crushing on akaashi ever since freshman year. it had started out as a way to cheer him up a bit after fukurodani wasn’t able to enter nationals. the day after you left the alstroemerias on his desk, akaashi had entered the clubroom with a smile on his face, talking about how someone was nice and enough to give him flowers.

and from then on, you decided to leave him flowers whenever you knew he was feeling down. most of them were gerberas, since there were always one or two left over at the flowershop you worked part-time at. but sometimes, you carefully sneaked out one of the fresh white poppies from the new flower deliveries. akaashi wasn’t really the type to celebrate things like perfect test scores or successful practice matches so you liked sending him a white poppy once in a while to remind him to be happy for himself.

the sight of akaashi walking into the clubroom with a slight sparkle in his eye, a spring in his step, and a fresh flower in his hand became one of your favorite things. and even though you could never convince yourself to actually confess to him, just seeing that was more than enough.

...

‘oh, another flower,’ akaashi smiled as he saw one on his desk as soon as he entered the classroom. it had been a good few weeks since he last received another flower and even though he knew his mystery florist shouldn’t really be obligated to give him flowers in the first place, akaashi still missed seeing fresh blooms on the makeshift jar on his desk.

as he neared his desk though, he found that the flower wasn’t the usual gerbera or white poppy, or even the alstroemerias that he first received. its petals were white and it looked a bit like a rose, except that its petals were a bit bigger and the scent was a bit sweeter. 

‘i wonder what this is,’ akaashi thought, pulling up his phone and once again looking through flower pictures. this one was a bit easier to find. the flower was a gardenia: secret love.

...

you were practically holding your breath ever since you left the flower on akaashi’s desk. for the past few months, you’ve been playing it safe with the flowers you were giving akaashi. but earlier that day, while you were opening up the shop, a fresh batch of gardenias was delivered which gave you a crazy idea. akaashi would surely find out what it meant and your heart was hammering in your chest.

“a-akaashi!” you practically squeaked in surprise as soon as he entered the clubroom. the gardenia was in his hand and you felt your face heat up. “another flower, huh? this one looks different from the rest.” 

“yeah, it’s a gardenia,” akaashi said, sitting down next to you. unlike before, you couldn’t quite read the expression on his face and that made you even more nervous. 

“did you look up what it means?” you asked.

“’secret love’, apparently,” akaashi glanced up at you. “i guess, these have been coming from a secret admirer all this time.” 

“aww, that’s so sweet! i wish i had one who’d send me flowers,” you laughed nervously. 

“yeah, well the thing is, i wouldn’t know how to tell them,” akaashi sighed.

“tell them what?”

“that i like someone else.” 

and with that, you felt your hopes deflate. akaashi already liked someone else. ‘probably one of the pretty ones in class,’ you thought sadly. 

“well, i’m sure they’ll understand,” you said in a small voice before returning to the book you were reading. unbeknownst to you, akaashi there was a hint of longing in the way akaashi glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

...

akaashi had a crush on you ever since freshman year, when the two of you met in the literature club. he had already signed up for the volleyball club but since he knew he’d be able to balance things well, he decided to sign up for another club of interest. on your first day as club members, akaashi recalled you intensively defending fanfiction as subversive literature and making very impressive points for that matter. he knew you weren’t very outspoken and you tended to be quite shy around your seniors, but you always spoke up when you felt you needed to. 

being in the literature club was even more fun with you around. you were the one who gave the idea of a ‘mystery novel dinner’ event for the cultural festival where you invited other students and pretended to be guests in a house solving a murder. akaashi had pretended to be the well-meaning, intelligent detective while you were lady of the house who mourned the death of her husband while actually being the real killer. the event was a success and akaashi fondly remembered how you were consistently in-character, even when akaashi was apprehending you after he solved the mystery.

when he entered the clubroom the next day, wondering just how he was going to tell his mystery florist that he couldn’t reciprocate their feelings, he walked in to find that you weren’t there.

“oh, akaashi-san,” one of your juniors who was there instead, greeted him.

“y/n isn’t here yet?” he asked. 

“oh, well they came here and just left their bag. i think they were trying to buy snacks before the cafeteria closed,” they answered, pointing at your bag that was in your usual seating place.

“thanks,” akaashi nodded his thanks at them and sat down at his usual spot. your bag was zipped completely open, one of your usual habits, and its contents were fully visible. akaashi spotted more than a few books, one of them in particular catching his eye.

“’the language of flowers,’“ he read aloud. 

“oh, i think that’s the one from our collection,” his junior said. “y/n has been reading it for a while. i think it’s because of the new job they got.”

“new job?” akaashi asked.

“yeah, at the flower shop,” his junior nodded.

akaashi blinked at the book for a few seconds before standing up. “i’ll be back in a bit,” he said, leaving the clubroom. as quickly as he could, he walked back to his classroom and peeked into the small glass window. 

and just as he suspected. there you were, standing by his desk, placing a pink rose on top of it.

...

“thank you for coming,” you bowed as the customers left the shop. as soon as they were gone, you let out a sigh as you surveyed the mess of leaves, stems, and leftover wrapping paper on your workstation. a man had just come by asking for one of the more extravagant bouquets to give to his wife and your fingers hurt a bit from the thorns on the rose stems. you had been dealing with roses all day, especially now that you they were your most recent deliveries since they were in season.

you had also given akaashi a rose. you knew they had very different meanings depending on the color, but the pink one that you gave him meant ‘trust, happiness, or confidence.’ you figured it was about time for you to stop sending him flowers, especially now knowing that he liked someone else, so you decided to go all out and leave him a pink rose. 

you tried to focus on cleaning your workstation and leave all thoughts of akaashi out of your head when the shop bell suddenly rang as a customer came in.

“welcome to-- akaashi?” the sight of him made you stop in your tracks. in his hand, he was holding the pink rose you gave him earlier. you watched as his eyes glanced from the bin of fresh roses on your worktable, to the pink satin ribbon your ribbons case, and you knew he had just put two and two together.

“you’re the mystery florist,” akaashi said, stepping closer to where you were.

“i am,” you sighed, knowing there was nowhere for you to run. “but if you want, i’ll stop sending the flowers. that’s the last one.” 

“why would i want that?” akaashi asked.

“because... because you like someone else,” you said softly. 

“ah, but when i said i liked someone else back then, that could have meant anyone,” akaashi said, a smile playing on the corner of his lip. “it could even be... you.” 

your eyes widened as you understood the meaning of what he had just said. “m-me...?”

“yeah.” now it was akaashi’s turn to feel shy. “i’ve... i’ve liked you for quite a while, y/n.” 

“you have?” you could scarcely believe your ears. akaashi, the boy who you had crushed on for so long, liked you back. 

“now, i guess it’s about time i be the one to give you flowers,” akaashi smiled, surveying the shop. “what do you suggest?”

you let out a giggle, feeling that rush of giddy joy at the knowledge that akaashi liked you back. you looked around all the flowers in the shop, so many meanings, so many ways to say ‘i love you.’ 

your eyes fell on the bin of roses at your workstation and remembered how the thorns hurt your hand. “well, at this point, anything except roses.” 

taglist (still open to anyone who wants in!): @montys-chaos​ @miyumtwins​ @strawberriimilkshake​ @pocubo​ @sugawara-sweetheart @akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan @therainroguefanfiction @atetiffdoesart @stephdaninja @oikaw-ugh @charliefredb @dramaqueenweeb1469 @tremblinghearts @applepienation @doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love

#haikyuu!! #hq!! x reader #akaashi #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi x y/n #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu!! fanfics #hq!! fanfics #hq fanfics #haikyuu!! one-shots #hq!! one-shots #hq one-shots #haikyuu!! imagines #hq!! imagines #hq imagines #haikyuu!! requests #hq!! requests #hq requests #haikyuu!! drabbles #hq!! drabbles #hq drabble #haikyuu!! fluff #hq!! fluff #hq fluff #akaashi drabbles

[floatservices]

worth the wait

oikawa tooru/gn!reader bakery au! + unbetaed wc: 1.3k genre: fluff

repost of an old devart fic, with rewrites and revisions! also the first time writing a gn reader, tell me if i’ve slipped up anywhere :) 

That Tobio-chan was getting on his nerves.

First, he manages to make those disgustingly pretty sugar roses, then make the most aromatic coffee he has ever had the pleasure to have smelt and then taste in his life, and now he’s waiting tables (something Oikawa didn’t have to do anymore, being a senior at Seijou Sweets!) so kindly and with that smile plastered on his face that Oikawa wants to vomit. 

He sighs, scowling at the cupcakes he’s glazing, and reminds himself: this stupid blueberry headed genius was only here for trial. Yes, a month's trial, but it was halfway done and Kageyama Tobio seemed too sure of himself and too arrogant to stay for the while- there was no way the seniors would let him in to work, even if he did come from Kitagawa Culinary.

Oikawa’s reminded that he gets to vote if he stays, and feels stupidly smug as he remembers that. He hums to himself, pleased, and looks up to see if Kageyama’s being harassed by an entitled customer. Seijou Sweets had a glass partition separating their baking station and the main dining area, mostly for the aesthetics but also for the customer’s interest. His boss said it was so they could see the process, to make it some kind of cool showcase that set them apart from other patisseries! (Tooru still feels a bit like a zoo animal, but that’s whatever.)

A smirk tugs at his lips. Maybe he got that horribly mean lady with the garish handbag from last week, or that man who returns everything he orders-

Ah. He’s waiting on his favourite regular.

You smile kindly at Kageyama, and he diligently notes down what you order. You look great as usual, as nice as you did when you had started coming in a few months ago, before his promotion. He hadn’t been junior manager then, still waiting tables and turning on the charm to get more tips. You had waved away his compliments and managed to wrangle real conversation from him; it was an understatement to say Oikawa hadn’t expected to like you so much, or to see you so often.

(“I’m working not far from here,” You explained when he had asked. “Internship. I hope I can get the job- not perfect, since it’s a bit far from home, but I like the area.”

“Something keeping you here?” Oikawa had asked innocently, setting your coffee and cake down. When you’re silent, he looks up, wondering what’s got your tongue. Tooru is surprised to see you blushing.

“The food’s not bad,” You had said quietly, taking a sip of your coffee.)

Oikawa fumes, and then Matsukawa bumps his hip with his own.

“What?” He snaps.

Mattsun gives him a leery smile. “You ruined your cupcake.”

Blinking, Tooru’s head snaps to the cakes and he stares at the shambles his icing is in. Pretty flower piping, pretty flower piping, and then suddenly, a mess of cream when he’d burst his piping bag.

He huffs, clearing the mess, moving the unsoiled cupcakes away so he couldn’t ruin those, and filling another bag. He’s just finished with the last one when Kageyama walks in, reporting his round of orders.

“Table seven wants earl grey chiffon and a cappuccino, table eleven wants iced lemon tea, and table four wants two iced caramel lattes, a hot milk tea and a sharing tea platter.”

Oikawa smiles at your usual, and then frowns. “No one’s started an earl grey, have they?”

Makki and Mattsun shake their head. Iwaizumi frowns, “No. Last I checked, aren’t you the one that said you wanted to take care of them all?”

Oikawa fights the blush. “I was distracted!”

Makki chuckles at that, blowing a raspberry when Oikawa looks offended. 

“You’re lucky earl grey isn’t so popular…” Iwaizumi sighs and Oikawa tries for a smile, before his best friend turns to Kageyama; “Tell table seven there aren’t any earl greys. Offer the special- I’ve just prepped those- and offer the wait. Oikawa will make ‘em if they still want it.”

Kageyama hurries out, and Iwaizumi shoots Tooru a look like, “get ‘distracted’ again and I’ll get promoted until I can fire you myself.”

“I’ve got table four’s platter.” Makki clears his throat, and everyone takes turns calling for orders: Iwaizumi has chosen to take care of the coffee, as he always does, but Oikawa amusedly watches him wrinkle his nose as he adds ice to his brews. Shaking himself out of it, he puts his iced cupcakes into the display.

Kageyama pops his blueberry head in again. “Table seven is fine with waiting.” He says simply, before ducking out again to wait more tables. Oikawa is surprised: those cakes took an hour at least. Still- he takes out the tea leaves, bowls, measuring cups and preps his work table. 

Oikawa smiles- the cake was for you, after all! He looks out to your table, hoping to see you again, and catches you staring.

...Oh!

You go red, keeping your head down and nodding over-enthusiastically when one of the servers brings you your coffee. You also pointedly look at anywhere but himself, drinking some of your cappuccino and then sputtering when it was too hot. You somehow turn redder.

Ah. That’s cute. Tooru thinks, chuckling under his breath as he steeps the tea. And he’s practiced this many times before, sometimes at his apartment and sometimes after closing time, when he wrestles the keys from Iwaizumi- hoping to see you smile and call it perfect. And- well, you do, but he wants it to be even better each time. To get you to come back, to show you Seijou Sweets was the better cafe- and hopefully, endear himself to you as well.

Eggs, sugar, oil, tea, cake flour- then the oven, and a clean 30 minutes later, he’s getting his pretty chiffon out the oven. 

Mattsun whistles a low tune, walking over to grab something or the other that he must have left behind. He nods at the cake that’s cooling on Tooru’s workstation, “Nice work. Be a shame if you ruined it while flipping.”

Oikawa snorts, and having judged it ready, slowly tips it over, dislodging the cake with a knife: it drops out perfectly. Makki claps him on the back (“It was a reverse-jinx, Tooru!”) and tops it off with powdered sugar. He slices it carefully, onto a serving plate- and again, with a weird feeling of deja vu, Kageyama pops his head into the kitchen just as he’s done.

“Anything to serve?” He asks, and Oikawa beckons him over.

“Would you put the cake away?” He gives him a sweet smile, “I’d like to deliver this myself.”

Kageyama blinks. “Ah, okay senpai.” And then obediently picks up the cake and bustles over to the display. Oikawa grabs the slice, Makki narrowly misses smacking his ass as he leaves, making his way towards your table.

“Apologies for the wait,” Oikawa says, bowing as he nears you. You perk up, putting your phone away, and when he smiles, you smile back. “Not like most customers to wait an hour for cake.”

“I’m a regular here, Oikawa-san,” You smile, “And earl grey happens to be my favourite. Besides, I figured it would be worth the wait.”

Oikawa sets the cake down, and he asks again like he had all those months ago, “Something keeping you here?”

“Someone.” You say coyly, and then bow politely from your seat, “Thank you for the food, I’m sure you must be very busy.”

“I’ll leave you to it.”

He returns to his workstation, You finish the cake quickly, and leave just as speedily after talking a bit with the server cleaning up your table- who just so happened to have been Kageyama. Oikawa wishes he had said something or done something to make the interaction last longer, feeling oddly jealous, chiding to himself even then that he had no right to be. He’s sullenly beginning to prep the evening dishes when Kageyama awkwardly walks up to him.

“Tobio-chan,” He says shortly, pouting. He wishes ugly crushes didn’t make him act even more childishly than usual.

“The customer at table seven said to give you this,” Kageyama says awkwardly, leaving the napkin on his table. Oikawa stares at the little numbers, and then his cheeks start to hurt from how wide he’s smiling.

Ah, maybe Tobio-chan wasn’t so bad after all.

#oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa scenarios #haikyuu imagines #oikawa fluff #oikawa tooru #tooru oikawa x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hopefully this shows up in tags </3 #haikyuu!!

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

monday again

tomorrow will be taken up with a billion hours of online zoom training for my new career as a salaried businesswoman. this is not a bit. i don’t know how i got here either. short one bc i have been prepping and stressing over aforementioned new job

listening genshin impact has a good soundtrack to get things done to. fondest of “moon in one’s cup” which i heard for the first time as i entered a main hub city. just some really sweet piano/strings. very nice to come back to the city half-dead after fighting some fantasy goblin equivalents and hear this start to come in.

reading "The Shoot-Out at Burnt Corn Ranch Over the Bride of the World" by Cat Valente.  (ty @finiteautomatron​ ) this is the flip side of what i am trying to write with the cowboyfic i think, where i am writing a emotionally silly and pulpy but scientifically serious thing. and this thing is. hm. i almost want to call it neo-magical? it’s not urban fantasy, but it is very wrapped up in american mythos. everything about the wizard of new york, for example, made me laugh and then gasp bc fuck!!! i used to live there!!! that’s exactly how old money is!!! i want to eat every word with a spoon. five thousand infuriatingly perfect words FUCK i wish i had more brain to make my own words go

watching johnny mnemomic (1995, dir Longo). this was entertaining but not particularly good or deep. sometimes that’s fine, sometimes you just need a cyberpunk b movie to occupy your brain. the set dressing is good, and so is most of the costuming. something about club scenes and workshop scenes in nineties hacker movies delights my very soul. i have read the short story, totally fucking forgot about the twist with the second hacker, and laughed like a goddamn seal.

playing the world next door (free on epic a month or so ago), an adorable isekai visual novel/match three battle thing. it’s kind of fiddly with a mouse and keyboard, but this may be bc i am bad at timing. i played for about half and hour and i don’t think the whole thing is longer than two hours, unless the game whips some new mechanics at me real soon.

do love how ye fantasy magic world has a robust public transportation system. that’s how we know it’s a fantasy world i guess.

making putting together an entirely new workstation with the furniture i already have, which necessitated ripping my living room and half my bedroom apart. it’s still not how i want it and everything is still a wreck :)

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

[daggerzine]

The Simon Provencher interview (by Tom Murphy)

Simon Provencher is perhaps best known for his frenetic and creative guitar work for the post-punk band VICTIME out of Québec. But on March 26, 2021 the musician released his debut EP Mesures via Michel Records. It is six tracks of free jazz collages that bear favorable comparison to the avant-garde compositions of Anthony Braxton as Provencher makes creative and playful use of clarinet, electric guitar, percussion and processing to convey a strong sense of mood and place while making one very aware of aspects of the environment around us we often tune out. In pairing aspects of exploratory jazz and musique concrète, Provencher has given us an album that is both soothing and keeps us grounded in the present. The composer and musician recently answered some questions we presented to him via email about the nature of his music, its inspirations and methods of crafting its elegantly evocative passages.

 Dagger Zine (Tom Murphy): Mesures will probably hit some people's ears as akin to a free jazz or spontaneous composition type of record. How did you approach putting together these songs and experimenting with sound compared with maybe how you do with VICTIME?

Simon Provencher: People wouldn’t be wrong in these assumptions at all. Mesures is a record that was written very quickly. I decided to trust my first instincts for much of the record. With VICTIME, our approach has always been more iterative. By that I mean that we’ll loop “embryonic” parts over and over again, slowly changing elements, morphing the composition until we found ourselves happy with how everything sounded together. I’m still very much into this way of writing, but Mesures was a much more immediate affair.

For me, inspiration almost always comes from timbre, usually through loads of guitar pedals. In this case though, I wanted to see what sounds and textures I could get out of the electric guitar without using any external effects or even amplification. Timbre was still my main concern, but in a more subtle way I guess. I slightly detuned the strings and experimented with resonances, chord shapes, finger placement, fingernails, etc. I also “prepared” the guitar: I jammed objects between the strings and tied sewing thread to the strings (if you pinch the thread with slightly wet fingers and slide them around, you get eerie, reverse-like effects).

Enough about me though, another big change was that this record was made remotely with two new collaborators, Elyze Venne-Deshaies (clarinet) and Olivier Fairfield (percussion). Both of them had “carte blanche” (pardon my french) to do whatever they wanted. I can’t speak much to their personal approach to improvisation, but both of them are seasoned veterans and delivered absolutely amazing performances.

 D: Some people might think of any kind of music declared experimental is a barrier to its acceptance but your album seems to me very accessible as a form of pure expression. Do you have a sense of why your songs seem so open and, as one reviewer put it, welcoming?

 S: I don’t quite know actually. I do agree that the songs have a certain softness to them that was certainly somewhat intentional. When I did the initial guitar parts, I did set out to make something conventionally “beautiful”, or at least “not harsh”. I don’t really have the vocabulary to describe what happened there, but the resonances, repetitions and patterns definitely implied a soft mood from the get go.

I guess this foundation inspired Elyze and Olivier to also play with softer tones, to approach the music with warmth and subtlety in mind. They really “got” the vibe of the music without me ever telling them anything about my intentions. A “shift” of some kind happened when the clarinet parts were added to the drums and guitars. I felt like the mood of the pieces almost completely changed (in a positive way, of course). I think there’s something to the linearity of Elyze and Olivier’s playing, in contrast with the repetitive, hypnotic guitars that gives the music a sense of wandering aimlessness which I really love.

On the audio engineering side, I did intentionally mix the songs with a certain softness in mind. We added some warm tape saturation to some of the sounds and carved out a lot of higher frequencies. On the songs with feedback and noise, Simon Labelle, who mastered the record, made it so that when the clarinets get louder, the high-frequency content ducks out of the way a little bit. This nifty little trick does help out a lot with making the noisy songs more warm and inviting too.

 D: Listening through the album I found it resonated with the albums of Anthony Braxton and Ornette Coleman. The former of which never considered his music part of jazz though he is often associated with that form of music and the latter who expanded the range, dynamics and tonal choices of jazz. Were you inspired by in any way by those forms of abstract yet emotionally expressive music? How might you describe its impact on what you've done?

S: I totally was! I discovered Anthony Braxton through Québec jazz guitar great René Lussier. I’ve been a fan of Le Trésor de la Langue for a while and I got into his back catalog last year: his collaborations with Fred Frith, EAI stuff and more, some of which was released on “Les Disques Victo”. “Victo” stands for Victoriaville, a small city between Quebec and Montreal, where there’s a great contemporary music festival named FIMAV. Shamefully, I haven’t actually been to FIMAV yet, but I’ve loved finding recordings of some amazing concerts, a favourite being Anthony Braxton and Derek Bailey’s 1987 Moment Précieux. I was amazed to find out about this rich local history of musical experimentation and improvisation. This record was very much inspired by the whole FIMAV sound.

Coleman is another great point of reference. His records and those of his collaborators, Don Cherry being another big one, all are major inspirations. As a guitar player, I especially got into James “Blood” Ulmer’s career. I really admire his approach to guitar and the immediacy and expressiveness of his music.

 I’m probably paraphrasing it all wrong, but Don Cherry said of Ornette Coleman’s “harmolodic” approach that instead of improvising from chords, like in bebop, you’d start with melodies and improvise to create new forms, harmonies, rhythms to try and reach a certain “brilliance” as he calls it. You’d try to make the music transcend. In harmolodic theory, melody, rhythm and harmony are treated as equals, no solos, no lead and accompaniment dichotomy, no strict timing, scale or tonality.

This is both quite simple but also quite hard to actually grasp in a musical setting, and I’m far from mastering any of it, nor is it necessarily something I strive for, but it is an inspiring way to conceive improvised music for sure.

 D: The first half of the album you make great use of what sounds like atonal melodies yet they perfectly convey the mood and lend a sense of texture. What informed employing those sounds in the songwriting?

S: I’ve always written music without much regard for tonality, key, etc. My musical background is still very much anchored in No Wave and noise music, where skronky chords and weird, unstable melodies are the norm rather than the exception. When playing, I really don’t think much about it, I follow what sounds good to me in the moment.

Looking back on the recorded music though, I feel like there is a lot of nuance to be found in atonality and imperfection. Detuned chords ringing out have such complex and interesting decaying resonances, you can almost hear the frequencies battling each other. These interactions between notes and lines that fall just short of resolving are part of the magic and intrigue of abstract music. In the case of Mesures, I think there’s something special with how some of the atonal, out of tune textures and weird synths clash beautifully with the in-tune clarinet parts, making either one “pop out” depending on where you focus your attention.

 D: The second half or at least the second three songs on the album use processed drones and what some might call noise underneath or in the background, although very much a presence in the mix, of the clarinets? What do you feel this almost contrast in sounds conveyed that say a more conventional arrangement might not?

The second half of the record is basically a rearrangement of the first three songs. There’s four clarinet parts in there! On the first side, they fade in and out of focus, but on side B, everything is there all at once.

This is basically the result of me simply “soloing” the clarinet takes in my DAW (Digital Audio Workstation, the software used to arrange and mix the music). When I heard the four clarinets at once, I really fell in love with the sound.

 So I knew I wanted this to be the focal point of the rearrangement, and I knew I wanted to add something. I just happened to be working with feedback that week, so it kind of fell in place. Feedback manipulation was a technical interest first, I had gotten a new guitar pedal called a Feedback Looper, which sends some of your output signal back into the input of a series of pedals. This creates self-oscillating and rich, detailed noises that are somewhat interactive and malleable. By turning some knobs and flicking some switches on ordinary guitar pedals, you end up with an infinite amount of possible glitches and shrieking high frequency tones.

I don’t know if my ears got accustomed to it or what, but I’ve come to really enjoy the sound of this process. I also really love the tactile aspect of it, it feels kind of like an unpredictable modular synthesizer. When I had recorded the feedback improvisation, which I did in one single take, I thought this sparse, harsh rearrangement was a nice contrast with the more warm, conventional first three songs. At that point, the record felt complete.

 D: The final three songs also remind me of Philip Glass in his soundtrack work wherein he mixes the playful and flowing with the dissonant. How would you say these sounds complement each other in your own music?

S: Especially on this release, while there are a lot of sounds that are contrasting with each other, I also feel like there is a sense of shared directionality. The song Et quart is a good example of this. The high feedback notes start out in almost complete opposition to the meandering low clarinet lines, but, as the song progresses, the sounds somehow seem to merge with each other and they end up flowing in the same direction for the song’s climax.

 D: What are some other artists operating now that you find interesting and/or inspirational and resonant with what you're doing?

There’s way too many to name them all, but I’ll try! I think there’s a very interesting local-ish scene around me. I admire the work of N NAO, either her solo releases or her collaborations with Joni Void. Sarah Pagé does mind-bending music with harp and effects; I’ve had the pleasure of catching her live in Ottawa just before the pandemic started last year. Kara-Lys Coverdale is also a major inspiration, so is Kee Avil, whose live show and guitar playing blew me away.

I also need to shout out my friend (and bandmate) Mathieu A. Seulement, whose end-year list allowed me to catch up on a lot of fantastic new music, including, but not limited to Ana Roxane’s Because of a Flower, Jasmine Guffond’s Microphone Permission, Caterina Barbieri’s Ecstatic Computation and, last but not least, Holly Herndon’s magnificent Proto.

  **the three Simon photos were taken by Charlotte Savoie

www.simonprovencher.bandcamp.com 

[druidx]

Accepting an Invitation

Warnings: Grief, self-harm, graphic thoughts of self-destruction, mild alcohol abuse. (Please let me know if you think anything else should be added to this)

Context: Set after the events of the main quest. Grief makes people behave... worryingly.

"Ah, may I speak with you Arch-Mage?" I looked up at the tiny Breton girl approaching me, squinting at her through the raindrops in my eyelashes. She had robes that demarcated her as a conjurer. "Is there something I can help you with Magister?" "Ah," she bit her lip. "It's just that, back in the Lustratorium, we noticed you were having some... difficulties." I applauded her delicacy. The simple potion I'd been making had exploded on me, sending glass shards of the alembic shattering all over my workstation. I'd cursed a lot, then put the alchemical burners out with a Frost Bolt before stalking out. Rain dripped off the conjurer's cloak, and she twisted her fingers. "Are you... alright, Arch-Mage?" she asked. "Yes, thank you," I replied, keeping my voice level, pleasant even. Blatantly ignoring the fact I was sat in the middle of the Lustratorium's garden, on the ground, with neither cloak nor parasol to protect me from the rain that hammered down about us.

"Could I... fetch you anything?" "Some wine might be nice. There should be something cheap in the kitchens." "That's not what I-" I raised an eyebrow. She quailed. "I'll go fetch you a cup," she said, backing away. "Just bring the bottle!" I called out to her departing back. She glanced back over her shoulder, a quizzical look. "Saves on washing dishes."

I tipped my head to the sky, letting the rain pool in my eyes and soak my hair. Allowing myself to just... be for a moment. The scent of wet dirt and sweet flowers reached me, the gardens silent aside from the hiss and thud of raindrops. For a single, blissful moment, I was nothing but the rain and the earth, the dance of a leaf, the hum of a brave insect. Then everything came crashing down, and I once again began to wonder what was wrong with me lately.

A day ago I'd been in Frostcrag Spire, making potions quite happily, until I wasn't. Everything spoiled, and I'd split grape must over a favourite book. I thought maybe it was the solitude that was wrong, and so I'd come to the Imperial City. I'd spoken to Phintias at the First Edition about getting the book restored, and he promised to look at it himself. Then I'd wandered, adrift, through the city, dipping in for a drink at the Bloated Float, only to barely touch the thing. I'd tried sleeping, only to be too fidgety, so I'd taken my weapons and dealt with a cache of vampires in the City's sewers, then unpicked and resecured the locks of everyone in the Elven Gardens district, just because I could. Exhausted by three am, I'd fallen asleep in the Arboretum like a common beggar, only to be woken and moved on at six am by an apologetic imperial guard – because, of course, everyone knew the face of Cyrodill's new Champion.

I'd returned to my home at the waterfront and slept until midday. Determined to be productive, I'd taken a satchel of ingredients to the University, but had instead wandered around the archives for a bit. Unable to settle and read, Tar-Meena had chased me out, Arch-Mage or no, because I was disturbing the other magisters. I'd wandered into the Orrery because the spinning globes usually calmed me. Instead, the grinding of gears had irritated after only a few moments, so I'd gone into the Lustratorium and burnt everything I touched, culminating the said exploded alembic.

"Good day, Arch-Mage," came an amused masculine voice. "Good day, Raminus," I agreed, my eyes still closed, feeling the weight of the silk robe increase with every drop. "Conjurer Peneles asked if I would bring you this bottle of wine," he said to explain his presence. I heard the rustle of robes and assumed he'd sat on one of the benches close by. "Would you care to join me, Arch-Mage?" "Can't you just bring it here?" I asked. I lowered my head, swiping at my face to remove the worst of the rain, and gave him a pout, something that was probably most unbecoming. "No, Arch-Mage. I would rather you came here," he said. He sat on the bench, huddled against the wall. His heavy woollen cloak was soaking through already, and he looked most miserable. "Actually, I'd rather we went to the living quarters and discussed this over a bowl of soup." "Raminus, just give me the wine and go inside. I can see you're cold and damp." "Because you're immune to both, hum?" he asked, and I saw a smile quirk his lips. "I am the Madgod's avatar," I reminded him. "If I don't do something crazy like sitting out in the rain from time-to-time, I'd go sane." "That's not why you're out here, though, is it?" he said. "Conjurer Peneles told me about your accident in the alchemy labs. What's wrong?" I heard the frown in his voice, the majority of his face shrouded under the cowl of his hood. "You're a Master Alchemist. It's unlike you to do something so disastrous. The theatrics of freezing your station, on the other hand..." He expected a laugh, however small. I couldn't give it to him. He sighed. "Please, Arch-Mage. Come inside. If for no other reason that you're scaring the apprentice wizards. And to prevent your inevitable demise at the hands of whoever is fed up of your constant whining when you catch a cold."

I considered his words, feeling a little sad about upsetting the students. "I'll go sit in the Arboretum," I said with a sigh. No matter what I did, it wasn't right. "Then I shan't be upsetting anyone." I stood and pointlessly brushed garden from my robes. "Arch-Mage..." "I'm sorry Master Wizard. Sometimes one just needs to sit in the rain, surrounded by plants, and contemplate." I strode towards the steps next to his bench. As I passed, he rose and caught my arm. "Magister, a moment," he pleaded. I nodded warily, and when he was sure I wouldn't bolt, he let go of my arm. Raminus unfurled the bundle of cloth he was carrying, and threw a fine woollen cloak around my shoulders, drawing up the hood. Only when he was satisfied it was wrapped snugly around me did he reach down and offer me the bottle of wine. "Please know, Arch-Mage, I still consider you a friend. If there's something on your mind, I'm happy to discuss it. Anytime. Except, perhaps, when I am practising my Destruction spells." He gave a dry chuckle. I stared for a moment, then took the bottle of wine from him. Rain dripped down my face, strangely salty to my lips. "Thank you," I said hoarsely. I hustled past him, rushing up the stairs, and on to the Arboretum.

~*~*~

I ambled around the Arbouretum for a bit, unable to find somewhere that felt as safe as the Lustratorium garden. Instead, my directionless feet took me to the Imperial waterfront, to the tiny graveyard therein. The area was blissfully empty. Mostly likely due to the rain, but I knew hardly anyone came down to this end of the tiny spit of land outside of the docks. I sat, savouring the cold smell of spray from Lake Rumare, the tingle of gooseflesh as I pulled off Raminus' cloak to fold as a seat. There was hardly any sound, this far out. The call of the docks carried on a low breeze, the slosh of the lake at the water's edge. I popped the cork on the bottle, a wisp of fruit ether snaking up my nose, and took a long pull of the bottle. It was rough stuff, grainy and vinegar-sharp, like a hard bruise. I appreciated the Breton girl doing as she'd been told; I didn't want to waste the good vintages on this.

I shifted a bit on my cloak-cushion, trying to get comfortable, but something kept jabbing me in the small of my back. Irritated, I reached around, drawing out a black-lacquered dagger. The Blade of Woe. I'd forgotten I'd left it there. A tiny dagger, in a tiny holster, at my back where it wouldn't easily be found. Lachance's invitation into the Dark Brotherhood had also been my back-up plan on numerous occasions. I shook my head at my naivety. One murder, that's all it had taken. One stupid, avoidable, accidental murder. I should have known better than to assume that a ghost was just a ghost in the Shivering Isles. Should have realised that Sithis could see into Sheogorath's realm as easily as into Mundus. Even if his recruiter had to wait for me in Bravil.

I looked at the blade, the way the rain trickled and dripped from the midnight surface, as black as any nightmare Vaermina could spin, feeling a void open in front of me. What had I left now? Raminus had been running the University for me during the Oblivion Crisis, Oreyn the Fighter's Guild. The Thieves pretty much ran themselves, and the Shivering Isles had Haskill. The Oblivion Crisis was over. Three months of constant work, and what had I to show for it? Emptiness and pain. Martin. Baurus. Jauffre. Steffan. All gone.

I thought I might be crying. My screams joining the screams of the dead, as they echoed in my skull. But all I could see was the void, black as the blade in front of me. Nothing but pain left for me. Alone again. Falling head-first into an empty, black chasm of grief. Ice filling my veins to make me numb, to pull me down.

I missed them so much I couldn't breathe. Insidious fingers of ice reaching into my chest to choke, to squeeze. Pressing down to splinter my ribs, to crush my heart beneath the nameless weight.

But then in the darkness, red. They'd been taken from me. Pushed, in extremis. Each loss, avoidable. Red anger, spilling out like blood in ink. Sloshing up the walls. A tide to coat everything it touched. To fill the empty well of nothing. Claiming, and taking. I'd tried to remain pure of intent for my Emperor. To believe in the Divines, to wear Their holy armour for him. But in the end, they'd forsaken me. I hadn't been enough to save him. Then let them forsake me! Let me be driven from their light, the scales tipped away from their favour.

The tide of red lifted me from the blackness, engulfed everything before receding, a sanguine film of flotsam left behind. My hand gripped tight the black Blade of Woe. Its name suited the one who would wield it. My heart sealed, locked down tight. That icy embrace now a crooning comfort.

I would take Lachance up on his invitation.

#tes oblivion #TESFic #raminus polus #The Elder Scrolls #writing #grief #hero of kvatch #champion of cyrodiil #lucien lachance #dark brotherhood #mages guild #wandering words