#yesterday I was trying to pipette and my hands were SHAKING and I was like ��what possibly could have caused this??’

[chaotic-neutral-knitter]

when will I learn that I cannot consume my regular quantities of caffeine while taking a stimulant medication for adhd 😭

[aminiatureworld]

Frustration II

Characters: Albedo, Kaeya, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,820

Premise: Commissions don’t always go as planned, much to your frustration. Luckily there’s someone there to make you feel better.

Author’s Note: Okay I did not predict the first part of this becoming the most successful fic on this blog to date. The people have spoken! So I come to you with more characters, hopefully this will make up for leaving Zhongli in the dust yesterday – that and the fact that his scenario turned out to be the longest to write out of all of them. I also have a few other characters for this prompt in mind, we’ll see. Also wow I don’t know how to title sequels.

Once more my deepest thanks to the 115 people who liked, the 8 people who reblogged, and the one person who commented on the first part. I cannot tell you the joy it brings me to see that people are interested in what I write. It makes me so stupidly happy, so thank you so very much.

Albedo

“I understand that Forsaken Ruins are supposed to hide secrets and all, but honestly how many boxes can one put in the same area before someone tells you it’s time to stop.”

Albedo said nothing in reply, eyes focused intently upon the graduated cylinder and glass pipette in his hands. You watched as he counted the drops under his breath, nodding slightly as the clear water in the cylinder shifted to a rather unimpressive muddied brown. Regardless of the color evidently the alchemist was satisfied, for he stoppered the cylinder and returned the remaining liquid of the pipette into its original container, arranging everything on the shelves, and leaving the rest in the small sink.

“Silver nitrate.” He explained, wiping his hands on a cloth, before going towards where you were sitting cross legged on a stool near the countertop that worked as his desk. “Now tell me about why you’ve been digging up boxes near the Forsaken Ruins.”

“It’s for a commission. You know Bao’er?”

“That suspicious woman from Liyue I keep telling you is probably a bandit?”

“That one.” You nodded curtly, glancing down at your hands. “And bandit or not she keeps commissioning me, I can’t very well not accept. Anyways, she’s been looking for some sort of treasure, but no matter what I give her it’s never what she’s looking for. Do you know how irritating it is to have a passive aggressive customer angry at you about something they did? I mean really.” You huffed in frustration.

“Have you considered the fact that she might just be using you to dig up all the treasure in that area.” There was slight amusement in Albedo’s voice, and your head shot up in response.

“Well forgive me for doing my job.” You shook your head, not truly believing there was any bite behind the alchemist’s words. He was right after all, and you weren’t altogether upset to know that someone else shared your suspicions of this person who kept commissioning you with no end in sight.

“Forgive me love.” Albedo walked over and gave your slightly hunched figure a hug. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning your head into his shoulder. The position you two in wasn’t necessarily comfortable, but there was nowhere proper for you both to sit, and besides Albedo’s embrace was so warm and secure you didn’t mind craning your neck a bit.

“You’ll get there eventually.” Albedo’s voice was steady, confident, as if he’d somehow calculated the fact that eventually this mad goose chase would end, had seen it in one of his many experiments.

“How would you know?” You whispered, still feel a bit contrary, though your frustration had long ebbed away.

“I just do. You can master anything with time you know. That’s the secret of science, the secret of alchemy. In the end it cannot be done without endurance, and I know that your endurance is one to withstand any storm.”

“Only when you’re cheering me on.” You replied, hugging Albedo a bit tighter.

“Oh that’s not true.” Albedo responded in kind, running circles along your back. “You’d do just fine without me. But I’ll be here for you regardless. So don’t forget that every question can be answered and every quest completed. It just takes a little time. We’re all humans in the end, regardless of vision or power. Just humans, and to be human is to sometimes need a little time.”

You nodded, lifting your head to glance into his face, usually passive and clear as ice, now filled with warmth and fondness, smile filled with fondness and love.

“Besides.” Albedo loosened his arms around you, instead reaching to help you off from the stool, laughing slightly as you stumbled, feet having fallen asleep. “I don’t see Bao’er doing any of the digging. How about you remind her of that next time she has an ill word.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” You replied, before leaving the lab, hand pressed firmly into Albedo’s and heart much lighter than before.

 Kaeya

“My darling!” Kaeya leapt down the steps outside the Headquarters of the Knights of Favonius, feet barely seeming to touch the ground, before sweeping you up in a hug. “It’s been too long and I’ve missed you so much.” He declared, ignoring the fact that it’d only been about 8 hours, instead peppering your face with small kisses, before registering the look of frustration clearly being worn by you.

“What’s wrong?” He drew back a bit, though not much, curiosity and worry in his eyes, hands gripping yours. You smiled, shaking your head; Kaeya always seemed to be ready to worry about your happiness, not that you didn’t find that completely charming.

“It’s nothing really important.” You were looking to assure him, but instead Kaeya’s frowned deepend.

“Nonsense. Anything that’s clearly making you so unhappy is of utmost importance. I’d like to know what it is, if you don’t mind. I’d like to help.”

“You’re helpful you being here.” You smiled, giving him a belated peck on the cheek. “But if you must know I’ve got a commission that needs to be done in an hour, and I have no idea how I’m going to accomplish it. You know how there’s a large vein of Crystal in Stormterror’s Lair? Well Wagner asked me to go mine some for him, easy stuff normally. Apparently though the mouth of the vein is situated right in the path of a ruin guard, and I’ve had a terrible time trying to do battle with the thing while being bogged down by mining equipment.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I mean really this shouldn’t be that hard. Why am I struggling so much? Wagner isn’t asking that much, he’s a good person. I’m just… inept.” You finished, by then your nails had begun digging into your palms. Kaeya noticed this and brought your hands up to kiss them, smiling as you reddened slightly and shook your head, a smile nevertheless tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Well I won’t tell you that Wagner is being utterly too demanding and that you have a right to a safe work environment,” you snorted at that, as if an adventurer’s work environment was ever safe, “but I will tell you that, since the best, most handsome, most daring Knight of Favonius has fallen hopelessly in love with you, he is willing to do the mining while you use that ruin guard to blow off some steam. Does that sound like a good deal?”

“I can’t believe you’re sitting out a chance to fight and instead are becoming a miner.” You smirked, placing a kiss on Kaeya’s jaw. “But really how could I ever turn down such an offer from such a gallant knight.”

“You’d run back to Wagner and give his ears a rightful scorching I’d hope.” Kaeya replied, linking his arm in yours.

“Hmm… unlikely.” You replied, leaning into the knight. “But thank you Kaeya. Truly, thank you. I know it’s not your job to fix commissions. It means a great deal to me that you’re willing to do this.”

“Of course I’m willing.” Kaeya smiled softly. “You’ve saved me from failing my job too, in more ways than you think. And even if that weren’t true, which it is, I love you so very dearly, and this is a small way to show it.”

You nearly ran into a lamppost, your face pressed into Kaeya’s shoulder, face warm and heart full of love.

 Zhongli

You really didn’t want to tell Zhongli.

That was the thought running through your mind as you hurried up the steps to the funeral parlor. You really didn’t want to tell him.

It’d been little more than a month since he’d given up his position as god of the city, little more than a month since the citizens of Liyue had begun the arduous task of ruling their own city in earnest. And little more than a month since you and the Geo god had begun your courtship. You relationship was still new, and though you’d thankfully mostly lost the sense of smallness that had initially come with falling in love with someone so powerful and so unending as a deity, though you now longer thought the love between you was something that could shatter at any moment, you still were a bit reticent to throw all your insecurities and mundane frustrations at Zhongli’s feet.

The smell of incense hit you the moment you entered, a bit overwhelming at first, but soon comforting and familiar. You exchanged a few words with Hu Tao, before walking over to Zhongli’s office, pace speeding up despite yourself. You might not have wanted to tell Zhongli about your day, but you desperately wanted to see him, as you always did when all was said and done. There was something about his presence, comforting and sturdy, and always filled with kindness and understanding.

Understanding. Zhongli would understand, of course he would. But you still didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to see his face cloud over with worry as you knew it would. He cared so very deeply, even if he didn’t always express it he truly did. Hidden under layers of politesse, tradition, and decorum there was simply someone who cared so very deeply. And thus someone who was often and easily hurt.

“Hello darling.” You said, entering the office quietly. Zhongli had been reading a scroll, but he quickly set it down, a smile erupting across his face as he stood up and met you halfway, enveloping you in a hug, which you gladly reciprocated. “I’ve missed you.” You said, voice muffled by his chest.

“I’ve missed you too, so very much.” He replied softly, one hand running itself through your hair absentmindedly, the other wrapped around your waist. “The days are terribly slow without you. I never noticed before how an afternoon can stretch so long.”

“Well I’m here now.” You replied, leaning back and bit to cup the archon’s face in your hands. Zhongli placed one of his hands on yours, leaning into your palm, smiling contentedly.

“I’m glad of it.” He said those words often enough, but every time it made your heart speed a bit. You felt so full of happiness you could almost forget the irritation of the earlier hours.

Almost.

“How were your commissions today?” It was early evening by now, and golden light was starting to slant through the windows. Zhongli was cleaning up a bit as you watched, smiling slightly. That smile slipped however once the question was asked, not that you didn’t know it was coming, as you two often asked each other about your days, each being a bit fascinated with the other’s job in some respect.

“It was alright. Fairly ordinary.” You tried keeping your answers brief and your tone light, though you could already hear the sharpness in your voice. Irritation was difficult to hide however, and you could already see skepticism in Zhongli’s gaze as he turned to face you.

“Oh. What were the commissions, if I may ask, the regular spots?”

“Mostly. I had one where I had to deliver a message to the Inn too, and one where, well, it was less of a commission and more of… well honestly I’m not sure what to call it.” You finished, tone by now filled with a mix of irritation an cynical amusement. Zhongli stopped altogether at that and sat at his chair, facing the spot you’d taken on the desk.

“May I ask what happened.” He said once more, tone slightly worried. Shit. Wasn’t this exactly the reason you hadn’t wanted to tell him?

“Well, you see I’m not the only guild member of course. And it’s almost the end of the month. What with everything that’s happened they needed someone to ask after some of the unfinished commissions, the ones that had a time limit. I finished my work early so I went.”

“And?”

“And, well. Well some of these adventurers were honestly hopeless!” You burst out, having shed your worries in your frustration. “I mean I know they mean well, I know they’re trying. Or at least I hope they are, you can’t really tell at some points. Like this one guy, I asked about why he hadn’t done any of the food deliveries he said he would and he made some odd excuse that a coworker was supposed to take care of it while he looked for a text that someone else wanted. Okay, fine. I go to the coworker, and she says that it was a one time thing as far as she was concerned and that she didn’t go to pick up the food after. I go to the restaurants themselves and turns out half the orders never go tthere and the other half have been put on a tab that need to be paid but no one thought to pay it so I do so. That doesn’t even begin with whoever did a hack job at the Wangshu Inn, apparently the boards have caved in again. And I was going to do that, but then I got pulled into some monster hunting so that won’t be done this month and honestly, it’s all just so… so frustrating!” You felt like you were spiraling at that point, all the frustration and shame coming back to you, the feeling of having to smile at someone who you’d much rather scream at.

Your thoughts cleared as Zhongli reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder. Bringing his hand up to your face he wiped away a few tears of frustration that you’d shed. Shaking your head you took his hand in yours. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t worry you about these things. I don’t want you to think Liyue is falling apart. I mean this was a thing even before you stepped down, and I know that I’m complaining too much and it’ll be fine it’s just, it’s just a lot.”

“I know.” Zhongli smiled softly. “You shouldn’t feel like hiding these things for my sake. I appreciate the sentiment, but I’d rather truly know how you’re feeling. Just like you don’t want to place a burden on me, so do I not want to place a burden by you by making it seem as if you have to carry your cares alone.”

“But, with everything so recent… I just. I worry you’ll regret it.”

Zhongli smiled, and leaned in, kissing your forehead. He smelled of incense and glaze lilies, and you found the knot in your stomach uncoiling despite itself. Smiling you linked your fingers through his, focusing on that as Zhongli kept a hand on your cheek, grounding you.

“Thank you for worrying about me. But just as I trust you’d tell me if Liyue were truly about to burn to the ground, so do I trust that it won’t happen. You’ve taught me that you know.”

“Me? Not the Liyue Qixing or the traveler? I think they’ve done a lot more than my running around will ever do.” You smiled a self-deprecating smile, but Zhongli simply shook his head.

“You have taught me that. How you keep going, how you support those you don’t even know for the sake of your guild and your commission, even if you have a grievance. And, more than that, you’ve shown it to me, simply by letting me have a place in your heart.” He lowered his gaze, face clouding over in the way you knew it did when he was considering the past. You gave his hand a squeeze and he looked up, smiling softly.

“I used to think that humans were delicate, no matter what. That they were destined for the tragedy of death and that made them unable to be depended on, that they’d just break and break and that I’d spend my existence watching it until I couldn’t stand it anymore. But you showed me that ultimately humans are resilient, more resilient than any adepti or magical being, who cannot stand to face time or pain or hard work. You’ve taught me that, and if you’ll let me I’d like to share that with you, your burdens, your frustrations, your anxieties. I’d like to be there to support you, if I cannot fix it then I’d at least like to be there for you. So please, don’t hide your struggles from me, so I may remind you that they’re simply proof of your power.”

You didn’t really know what to say, smiling in a mix of relief, sadness, and adoration. Leaning in to kiss Zhongli you felt the word recede and grow around you. You didn’t know how he did it, how he took all your cares and worries and flaws and morphed them into something beautiful.

But that was what made Zhongli special, and you adored him for it.

[bertytravelsfar]

Advent Event - Day 21 - Liquor

Ha! My whinging yesterday must have reached the Muses of short, smutty fanfic writers (the fanfic, not the wr... never mind). 

Title - A Little Christmas Spirit by Berty Fandom - Sherlock (John Watson /Sherlock Holmes) Rated - Explicit Word Count - 2078 Warnings - First time. Slash. Blow job. FLUFFY! Sherlock POV. Notes - Set at a time before or just without Mary/Moriarty - there's no angst...It's Christmas! Total abuse of ellipses and has probably been done before in many fandoms, but this is my take on it. Unbeta'd. Synopsis - Sherlock really should learn to listen to John. He's likely to miss something important, otherwise.

A Little Christmas Spirit by Berty

“… blow job?”

Sherlock sits very, very still, barely daring to breathe, knowing that he’s missed something of vital importance. He slides his eyes to the left, hoping to catch sight of his flatmate in his peripheral vision. He needs data to answer what is very clearly a question - lots and lots of data. But John is standing slightly too far behind him to catch a glimpse, denying him the clues he needs to work out a response that might prove to be critical. Sherlock is ninety-seven per cent certain that John just asked him if he wanted…

“Sherlock? Blow job? What do you think?”

To be fair, John has been talking for several minutes about…something. Sherlock wracks his brain for the topic of John’s monologue, but he recalls thinking the subject matter boring and tuning out after the words, ‘So, about tonight…’ The rest of it is a blur of John moving around the kitchen, remembering to hum whenever John was quiet for a more than ten seconds and being irritated that he was distracted by the way John’s long-sleeved t-shirt stretches across his shoulders and chest while he was trying to concentrate on his spore samples.

So what should he say? This is already the second time of asking (at least) and John will get impatient, possibly to the extent that he might take his silence as something other than surprise. Breathing out slowly, Sherlock hopes his voice doesn’t betray him. “Well, that sounds very nice.”

Very nice?

Ugh! Sherlock wants to stab himself with his pipette. Now John will think that he is uninterested and withdraw the offer when the opposite is quite clearly the case. And if it’s taken him this long to find the courage to ask for…offer… such an intimacy, God only knows how long it might be before he says it again. If ever!

“I mean yes! Yes…I’d like that. If you’re amenable.”

Amenable???

Has he completely lost his faculty for rational thought? Good God! Death by pipette is too good for him!

Amenable is John allowing Sherlock to keep body parts in the salad crisper or Sherlock tolerating John’s hideous knitwear around the flat. It’s not offering up his mouth for Sherlock’s pleasure or, better still, offering to allow Sherlock to go to his knees for him and…

Actually, is that better?

He can’t decide. It’s an impossible decision to make without empirical data. An orgasm on John’s tongue sounds superb, but to have John on his lips, maybe with his hand carding through his hair as he gently thrusts…

John has gone silent – probably confused by the amenable comment.  Sherlock closes his eyes. Breathes. Swallows. He leans back from his microscope and carefully turns to face his soon-to-be lover (if he hasn’t completely and utterly messed this up already.)

John stands in front of the window, the gaudy lights on their Christmas tree echoing madly from every reflective surface in the sitting room. His mouth is hanging open slightly, his eyes are wide and fixed on Sherlock, and a slow, dusky blush is creeping into his cheeks. He has a brown liqueur bottle in one hand and in the other there’s a book... with a picture of a glass filled with an alarmingly yellow drink underneath the words Cocktail Recipes for Every Occasion.

Oh.

Oh, dear God.

So, about tonight… tonight, the night of Molly’s Christmas party… the party at which each guest is supposed to bring the ingredients of a cocktail for everyone to share. A cocktail like… Bailey’s, that vile coffee stuff in John’s hand, whipped cream and…is it Amaretto or the mint one?

Not the point!

Either way this concoction, apparently, is amusingly titled a Blow Job.

They stare at each other with desperate intensity. Sherlock thinks he should just walk away and …well, just keep walking, really. John’s mouth is opening and closing as if he’s trying to make words. Someone has to say something, or they’ll be stuck here forever in the circle of hell reserved for the quintessentially British sins of uncomfortable admissions and embarrassing misunderstandings.

“I…”

“Alright then,” John blurts, then immediately blinks, looking as if the words were a surprise to him.

It’s Sherlock’s turn to lose the ability to form coherent speech, and all he seems capable of is an upward inflection to the humiliating whimpering noise that he makes involuntarily. “Whuhuh?”

Placing the dusty bottle and the book on the desk with exaggerated care, John subconsciously wipes his palms on the thighs of his jeans – a nervous gesture that Sherlock has noted before. “Alright then,” John says, more determined than confident, his chin lifting and his shoulders going back, just daring Sherlock to tell him no.

There’s more awkward silence as Sherlock struggles to see through John’s bravado. As much as he’d like to take him at his word, Sherlock knows that he can’t with good conscience accept John’s offer at face value.

“John,” he says gently, trying to smile a little to let him know it’s okay while acknowledging the ridiculousness of the situation. He flicks his fingers towards the discarded bottle. “You meant…”

But John Watson is not a man to be underestimated and in the time it has taken Sherlock to decide what to say, he has crossed the distance between them.

Seated on a stool at his microscope, Sherlock is shorter than John and has to tip his head back slightly to see his face. John crowds him, finding a space between his knees. He searches Sherlock’s eyes for only a moment before he leans down and presses a soft kiss to bow of Sherlock’s upper lip then another to the hinge of his jaw. He lingers there, avoiding Sherlock’s eyes and breathes, sending all the touch receptors in Sherlock’s neck into paroxysms of sensation data.

“John?” Sherlock asks softly.

“Don’t.” He pulls back far enough to meet Sherlock’s gaze and licks his lips, the slightest hint of a twinkle in his eye – recognising the irony of how they got here. But the expression fades swiftly and becomes something more wistful and raw.

“But you didn’t… you don’t…”

What is he saying? Why is he saying anything? John’s being very clear that although it wasn’t his intention to proposition him at 2 p.m. on a damp December afternoon, he’s more than on board with the plan now it’s here.

John shakes his head slightly. “But I do,” he says matter-of-factly. “ You have no idea how much I do, actually.” He shrugs a little at the admission and his hand settles on Sherlock’s shoulder.

He brushes a thumb against the skin of Sherlock’s throat just above his collar, sending a rush of new responsiveness to sweep sweetly through Sherlock’s body. He can feel all the hairs on his forearms raise instantly with a thrilling prickle.

Knowing that he should at least consider the implications of this step and actually talk to John before they go any further, he nevertheless finds himself reaching for John’s hand and being led into the sitting room. The courage his flatmate has shown in not allowing them to laugh this off or pretend it never happened is considerable and even if Sherlock wanted to say no (which he doesn’t, thank you very much. He’s quite happy here), he couldn’t do that to John. To anybody else, of course, he could be as blunt and insensitive as he pleased, but John has always been the exception.

Positioned in front of his chair, John is staring at him with such an intense look of desire on his face, Sherlock can’t quite believe he hasn’t noticed the possibility of his attraction before.

He reaches up to run his fingertips along Sherlock’s jaw, up around his ear and into his hair and Sherlock has to supress the shudder that seems to arrive out of nowhere. He’s imagined this many times - him finding the right words at the right time and John responding in kind. He’s always felt it to be a kind of violation of their friendship, but now he sees that John has considered this possibility too. He knows what he wants without hesitation and Sherlock drops pliantly into his seat when John puts a hand against his chest.

He kneels slowly and deliberately, his eyes dropping to where Sherlock is ragingly hard already, just from the want on John’s face. His fingers on the zip of Sherlock’s trousers are steady and skilled while Sherlock’s heart is pounding so hard he thinks it must be visible through his shirt. And when John’s hand draws him out and closes around him, Sherlock thinks he might lose touch with consciousness for a few moments, because John is staring up at him with a tiny, smug smile on his face as he takes the tip of Sherlock’s length into his mouth.

And now he’s staring at the ceiling because he doesn’t seem to be able to coordinate his muscles sufficiently to stop his head from dropping back. This has the added benefit that he cannot see John’s mouth stretched around him or see his eyes fluttering shut as he concentrates on Sherlock’s pleasure, because that will surely culminate in him climaxing within seconds. Oh, but he can feel and that itself is utterly overwhelming. He’s reacting to John’s devotions and it’s so much more than he’d imagined. John’s tongue is clever and everywhere and the rhythm of his suction is echoing a resonance along every nerve in his body and… and…

This isn’t going to last very long at all and he cannot find it in himself to care.

So he may as well look down… directly into John’s adoring eyes and…

…

… oh.

…oh, God.

John hums around him as he spills one more time into his waiting mouth, and as the aftershocks still shudder through him so exquisitely.

There’s a regular rustling of fabric and a distinctive, familiar sound of skin on desperate skin. Despite Sherlock’s apparent lack of a skeleton, he can’t let this opportunity pass and he pounces. Actually, it’s more of a flop than a pounce, but John seems appreciative anyway, trapped under Sherlock’s weight and with Sherlock’s hand slapping his own away and replacing it with cool, clumsy fingers that quickly learn the heft and girth of him. Part of him wants to savour this, take his time to find out how to pleasure John, but the ‘pleases’ and the way John is whispering his name are too perfect and he only has time to stroke him three times from root to tip before John is groaning and shaking his way through a most satisfactory orgasm.

And then they’re just breathing, panting, and Sherlock wonders whether it would be rude to unhand John’s penis now because the floor is revealing itself to be supremely uncomfortable, so this next part might be awkward…

Except John just looks up at him and chuckles, fond and open. “You never listen to me! And to think that used to annoy me.” He’s still flushed and soft looking, even though Sherlock has quite obviously just wiped his sticky hand on John’s shirt because, well, as much fun as that was, it was messy.

Sherlock finds himself returning the smile. “I listen if you’re talking about interesting things,” he protests gently.

John lifts an eyebrow and tips his head at their current position. “Is this interesting enough for you?”

Humming, Sherlock settles his weight a little more comfortably, finding a place that he can share John’s warmth and still see his face. It’s actually rather nice just laying here watching the early twilight creep into the room and the mad fairy lights twinkle unnatural colours to hold the dark back a while longer.

John takes a deeper breath, hold it, then speaks. “There are other cocktails in that book you know. So maybe when we come back from Molly’s we could have a look?” John’s face has become a little pinched, a little tighter.

Oh! Doubt. Is that doubt? John wants something and doesn’t know if…

Oh!

Oh!

Well, Sherlock can clear that one up right away. “Is there one called, ‘Forever?’”

John is quiet for an unnecessarily long time before his arms come up around Sherlock’s body and pull him closer still. “I don’t know, but if there isn’t one, I happen to know this brilliant, handsome chemist. He’ll think of something.”

And John’s right.

Sherlock is thinking about it already.

Fin

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