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stardustndreamsofsilver · 5 months

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Honey, All I See Is You

Part Two

Jake x Reader

Find All Parts Here

Warnings: none

Two

It’s late afternoon and the sun has started to set as Jake drives down the dirt road. Flicking on the turn signal, he pulls into a long and winding driveway. When he reaches the cabin at the top of the hill, he cuts the engine and reaches over to grab his bag from Literary Labyrinth. Opening the door, he steps out of his truck and heads for the front door. Pulling out his keys and unlocking the front door, he turns the knob and steps inside.

Shivering from the chill of the cabin, Jake sets his bag and keys on the table by the door and quickly makes his way over to the fireplace and gets a fire going. Ember catches the kindling, and he stands. Dusting off his jeans he makes his way to the kitchen. Flipping on the light, he walks over to his coffee machine and dumps the grounds left from this morning. Putting in a fresh filter, he grabs the bag of Stumptown Holler Mountain coffee ground and puts in two scoops before filling the water reservoir. Grabbing a mug from one of the cabinets, he sets it on the stand and hits the brew button.

Turning and leaning back against the counter, he pulls his phone out of his back pocket and pulls up instagram. Tapping the search bar, he types in Literary Labyrinth and presses the search button. Instantly, pictures of the shop pop up along with pictures of you. The corner of his mouth lifts slightly as he scrolls from the shop’s feed. Pictures of books, customers, and you flash across his screen.

On one particular picture of you he stops scrolling. The picture is a candid shot of you sitting on the edge of the front display window with a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. The soft golden afternoon light cascades over you and you’re reading what he assumes is an interesting page. Your lips are parted, and your brow is furrowed slightly. You look completely at peace and in your own world. He’d never seen something or someone as beautiful as you look in the photo.

Seeing the tagged icon, he taps it and sees your username. Tapping your name, your profile pops up. But, it’s set to private. Before he can think better of it, he sends a follow request. Sliding his phone into his back pocket, he turns just as the coffee machine goes off telling him his coffee is ready.

Across town, you’re closing up shop. Flipping the sign from open to closed and turning off the overhead lights, you hear your phone sound from across the room. With a curious tilt of your head, you walk to the back and around the counter where your phone sits on the top of your stool. Reaching down and picking it up, you tap the screen.

On it, you see a notification from instagram. “jaketkiszka has requested to follow you” it reads. A confused frown forms as you click it and your instagram takes you to the user’s profile. When it pulls up you see the account is private, but you recognize Jake in the profile picture. Your frown immediately turns into a grin as you accept the request and send one of your own. Setting the phone back down, you finish up closing.

As you grab your coat, scarf and purse, your phone goes off with another notification. Quickly pulling on your coat, wrapping the scarf around your neck and throwing your purse onto your shoulder, you walk over and pick up your phone. The notification says that Jake has accepted your request. You smile as you stuff your phone into your coat pocket and turn to the counter grabbing the first book in the series Jake had suggested. Placing the book carefully in your purse, you head for the door.

After locking the door behind you, you hear the faint sound of your phone again. Dropping your keys into your purse, you pull out your phone and start walking home as you look down at the screen. A new dm from Jake waits for you to open in your inbox. You feel your heart flutter when you read the notification. Your cheeks heat and you shake your head trying to shake off the feeling. Opening the message, you see an old post of yours with a message attached.

“I see you were in fact a Narnia nerd. You’ll definitely enjoy the series I told you about earlier.” It says.

Clicking the linked post, you see it’s one you’d posted last summer. You’d gone abroad and during the trip, you had stopped to stay in Oxford. During your stay, you'd gone and visited The Kilns. That day had been the first sunny day of your entire stay. With the sun shining down, you’d walked the grounds of the house taking in all the sights and sounds during your tour.

In the nature reserve just behind the house, you’d spotted an old stone bench. Sitting down on it, a breeze blew through and with it, a little bit of magic. At least that’s what you’d told yourself. You liked to imagine C.S Lewis had sat on the same spot and dreamt up Narnia and maybe a little bit of that magic had rubbed off on you. Spotting a fellow tourist, you’d asked them to take a picture of you sitting on the bench with the house in the background and had posted it with the caption, “Narnia is never so far away.” You smile at the memory.

You hurry the rest of the way home and as soon as you walk through the door, you grab the book from your bag and your phone from your coat pocket. Walking over to your wall of built in bookshelves, you hold up the book in front of it and snap a picture. You flop down into your reading chair, a velvet covered wingback, and with the book in your lap and phone in your hands you pull up your dm from Jake and send the picture with the words, “Just got home and getting ready to start reading it actually.”

With that, you hit send and you open the book and start to read.

“He raises his sword, ready to die for this. His belief that all beings deserve to be free, that all are deserving of a peaceful life, the right to defend and rule his kingdom. His heart pounds. The thundering sound of hooves, feet, paws running across the field fill his ears. The enemy draws ever closer. Gripping the hilt of his sword, he plants his feet awaiting the coming onslaught. The dark prince and his soldiers are a breath away. Inhaling, he fills his lungs and raises his sword above his head and starts running toward them. He lets out a mighty roar as the two sides collide…”

*Ding*

You nearly jump right out of your chair. The book goes flying. Your heart is racing a mile a minute. With panicked breath, you clutch your chest trying to calm yourself. Whipping your head around to the source of the sound, you see your phone screen lit with a new message. One hand still clutching your thundering heart, you reach over and pick up the phone.

It’s a message from Jake. “How’s the reading going?”, it says.

Letting out a breath you type back, “I had just gotten to the battle between Elaith and Katar! The two armies had just clashed together when you messaged me and nearly gave me a heart attack.”

A few seconds later he responds, “Ah! That battle changes the whole course of things. Get back to reading. Tell me your thoughts when you’re done.”

Not wasting another moment, you do just that.

Quite a while later, you read the last line of the book. Tears cascade down your face. Your chest aches. You cannot believe this is how it ends. Since when did evil prevail? Aren’t fantasies meant to have happy endings? Picking your phone up off the side table, you message Jake.

“How dare you.” You type.

“I see you finished the book.” He says back.

“I will never trust your recommendations again.” You say.

“You only picked up the first book and didn’t get the second, didn’t you?” He accurately accuses.

Heat reddens your cheeks, “Obviously! Even still! That is the worst ending I have ever read!”

“Being a bit dramatic are we?” He says.

“No! My faith in this author is shaken! In fact my faith in the whole of the fantasy genre is shaken! Fairytales are meant to have happy endings!” You quip.

“Ah, see that’s where you’re wrong. Not all fairytales have a happy ending. Disney is to blame for your misguided thought process.”

You scoff and say, “Oh okay, Mister Cynical. Excuse me for thinking that “fantasy” means it’s different from the real world. Including how it ends.”

“You’re excused. Now that you know better, you won’t be so disappointed when you read the next book.” He teases.

“Who says I’m reading the next book?” You question.

“Come on, you know you want to see Delimira take her revenge for the death of her lover.” He says.

With a sigh, you type back, “You know you could just tell me.”

“And lose the opportunity to keep talking to you? Nah, I think I’ll pass and let you find out for yourself.”

Your cheeks heat and your pulse quickens. Smiling to yourself, you reply, “Fine. I guess I’ll be buying the next book in the morning… And be giving you all my thoughts as I read it.”

“I’ll be waiting with bated breath.”

taglist: @vanfleeter, @sinarainbows, @danny-dream, @nina-23-45, @takenbythemadness, @edgingthedarkness, @gvfmarge, @lyndz2names, @watchingover-hypegirl, @twistedmelodies, @josh-iamyour-mama

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hanilessa · 1 year

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before reading please pay attention to the series masterlist, to make sure you have read the previous chapters!

your likes, reblogs and replies are greatly appreciated! i hope you like it, enjoy reading!

HALF AN HOUR FOR LOVE — Childe x F!Reader Chapter 6. (Not) close people

There was absolute silence between the three of you. You would have assumed that crickets were purring somewhere in the back of your mind, but you brushed off this thought, realizing for yourself that you exaggerated too much. You tried to pretend that you don't to notice this tense atmosphere, cleared your throat and said:

"H-how is your studies going, Xiao?" You noted to yourself in annoyance that your voice trembled treacherously, and you were sure that your brother realized that you were hiding something from him.

The boy raised his skeptical eyebrow, first looking at you, then shifted his gaze to the ginger man next to you. You hoped with all your heart that Tartaglia would keep silent, but, to your regret, this didn't happen.

"You both look a lot alike!" Childe said excitedly and enthusiastically, looking first at your brother and then at you. He seemed to make an innocent face on purpose and, putting his hand to his chin, continued to say, "Even though your cheeks look a little plumper than your brother’s, Y/n. So cute!" He laughed as he looked at Xiao, who still didn't understand anything, being somewhat confused.

"Stop it immediately!" Your cheeks flushed red at his comment about your cheeks, and you let out an exasperated sigh. But remembering that you two are still being watched by your brother, you glanced nervously at the laptop screen, noticing that Xiao was looking at you with a question in his eyes. "A-ah, Xiao, this is my colleague."

Tartaglia visibly frowned when he heard that you introduced him to your brother not as "your friend", but as an ordinary "colleague". There was a sudden glimmer of annoyance in his chest as he thought about how many male colleagues you might have had.

These thoughts kindled an unpleasant burning fire in his chest, leaving a nasty ash residue of sadness inside. However, he decided to postpone these thoughts and hurried to correct your obvious — in his opinion — reservation.

"Baby, why are you calling me your colleague?" Childe pouted his lips like a child who had his toy taken away. Your eye twitched when the man called you "baby" once again. The amount of your awkwardness at this moment could exceed the maximum value. "We're frien..."

You instantly covered his mouth with your hand, which surprised not only Xiao, but also Tartaglia himself. He opened his blue eyes wide, obviously he didn't expecting such an unexpected action on your part. You made the most innocent look, smiled and looked at your brother again.

"Yes, we're colleagues." Specially highlighting the last word with your voice, you smiled again and looked at the ginger man, as if expecting words of confirmation from him. "He came to my house to take some important documents. And now he's going to go home!"

Childe mooed protestingly into your small palm, and you realized that he wasn't going to give up so easily. So you had no choice, but to turn to your laptop and say to your brother:

"I'm sorry, Xiao, this isn't a good time to talk." You looked at the ginger man from the corner of your eye, who finally stopped resisting your grip and turned to you with a question in his eyes. You looked back at your brother. "Say hi to mom. I love you! Bye!"

The boy didn't have time to say a word as a protest to your actions, because you dropped the call with lightning speed, lowered the laptop lid and, to be sure, also pulled the wire from the socket, after which you exhaled heavily.

For a few moments, the room was again tensely silent, crackling like electricity. But you pretended that you didn't to notice it, after which you looked at Tartaglia and, raising an eyebrow, asked with irritation:

"Can you explain to me why you came into my bedroom without permission?"

Tartaglia raised his eyebrows, also in a slightly annoyed state. He had many questions that he wanted answers from you. For example, why were you so nervous and dropped your brother's call? Why didn't you let him talk to you?

"Would you like to explain to me what happened a few seconds ago?" The man demanded — he also looked annoyed by the whole situation.

"I asked you first!"

"Why are you trying to avoid the question?"

"Look who's talking!"

You got up from your chair and turned your back on the man. He stayed behind you, nervously ruffling his ginger hair. You both couldn't see it, but you and he bit lips at the same time, realizing that you two were rude to each other.

You clenched your fist with little force, realizing that you can't escape explanations. You decided to answer briefly because, as much as your heart ached at these thoughts, you and him weren't close enough people to share such things with each other. So you took a deep breath and answered haltingly:

"Xiao has been wary of other men always. That's why I didn't want you two to fight. Please don't ask why."

And without saying another word, you went back to the kitchen, leaving Tartaglia alone with many questions in his head.

Luckily for you, you two didn't bring up this conversation this evening again, which made you very happy. After all, the last thing you wanted was for a man to see your vulnerable side.

That part of you and your past that you were afraid to show to other people. For a few seconds, you suggested that Childe might sympathize with you if you confided in him and told him about your feelings, but you immediately dismissed this thought, remembering his teasing and brash nature.

You glanced at the ginger man out of the corner of your eye and was surprised to see that he was quite good at cutting vegetables for salad. He looked very serious and focused, the sleeves of his red shirt rolled up to his elbows, showing you his big, strong arms.

His arms were covered in blue veins and you realized that was your weakness because it looked really hot. You awkwardly bit your lip, after which you looked uncertainly at Tartaglia's face and immediately screamed in surprise, realizing that the man had been watching you all this time.

"Hm, princess was attracted by the sight of my arms?" The ginger man laughed when your cheeks turned red. He caught you red-handed. You scolded yourself in your thoughts. How could you look at his arms so carelessly and too openly?

"Stop teasing me!" You grumbled, turning away from him, showing with all your appearance that you were offended by him. You continued to cook the dough for the pie, giving it a certain shape.

"I just can't resist how cute you're when you're angry." Childe answered cheerfully, cutting the tomatoes into small pieces. The pleasant smell of a red vegetable hit your nostrils, gradually filling the entire space in the kitchen.

You gave him an annoyed look, dissatisfied with his comment. But you had to admit in your heart that you were actually fascinated by such comments from him. Your cheeks glowed even more, as much as if you were in front of a large fireplace or stove with a blazing hot fire.

You told yourself — you shouldn't have succumbed to his charms! You have thought about how many women he charmed with his phrases and teasing behavior? For some reason, these thoughts made you feel sad.

"I've noticed that you're pretty good at cooking." You continued speaking, leaving your thoughts aside. Perhaps you will return to your thoughts about Childe when you're alone.

"You think so?" He raised an eyebrow as he carefully placed the chopped vegetables in a glass dish.

"I'd say you don't look like you're a good cook." You chuckled, lightly brushing a strand of hair out of your face, touching your skin with your flour-stained hand.

"Is that so…" The man replied thoughtfully as he slowly sliced the vegetables.

There was silence between the two of you. But in fact it wasn't a tense silence, on the contrary, you two were silent, because each of you was thinking about something different.

You kept fiddling with the pie dough, it bunched up in big clumps and stuck to your hands, what made you furrow your brows in a funny way. Just as you were thinking about the two of you continuing to remain silent, unexpectedly for you, the man spoke softly.

"When I was younger, my parents often stayed late at work." Tartaglia calmly told, noticing your interested look. You listened, continuing to knead the white lump of dough with your hands. "And I, as the eldest member of the family in their absence, always looked after my brothers and sister."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, because a new, unknown and hidden side of Tartaglia opened up for you. For yourself, you learned that he was a caring and loving person for his family, and it warmed your soul to some extent.

You were pleased that he decided to share this with you, despite the fact that you were previously reluctant to explain Xiao's situation to him. You bit your plump lip. Not close people.

You rarely opened your thoughts and your soul to a stranger, but now you were very ashamed, because Childe trusted you and told you about his family. You felt that he cared deeply for his siblings just by listening to his voice and how fondly he spoke of them. It made the ice in your heart melt. Perhaps you could trust him.

Meanwhile, the ginger man continued to speak:

"I often cooked food for them because they refused to eat the food that the nannies cooked for them." Tartaglia grinned as if he remembered some funny incident and put the chopped vegetables in the dish.

You smiled, when you watched the man. You thought it was funny.

"It was strange, they only wanted to eat the food that I cooked for them."

"I think they like your food and appreciate what you do for them." You shrugged, carefully square the pie.

The man paused for a moment and turned to look at you. You kept fiddling with the dough, and he thought it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen in his life.

You're next to him, and the two of you cook food, that then you and he will eat together. You were so cute when you fiddled with the pie dough, there was white flour on your slightly rosy cheeks, but you didn't seem to notice.

Without realizing it, he put the knife aside and reached for your cheek to wipe the flour from your skin. Tartaglia touched your cheek, and you shuddered in fright, dropping a piece of dough from your hands. You obviously didn't expect these actions, looked at the man with excitement in your eyes, meeting with his dull blue eyes, which, like an abyss, carried you into their depth. And you couldn't resist it.

There was absolute silence in the kitchen, only the loud beating of two hearts in unison and the ragged breathing of two people could be heard. Your and his body were pressed against each other. Childe, holding his breath, pressed you closer to the countertop, and carefully ran his thumb over your delicate skin, wiping the white flour off your cheek.

You watched his Adam's apple, that was twitching slightly, and you swallowed in embarrassment because the two of you were back in that embarrassing position — too close to each other — like you two were at the party tonight. Seriously? Has this happened for the second time in a day? Your heart raced in your chest, when the ginger man continued to gently run his hand over your face.

"You have flour on your cheek." Tartaglia whispered gently, burning the skin of your face with his hot breath.

"A-ah…" You answered confusedly, unable to find the right words due to the huge embarrassment you were feeling right now.

You two had a strange influence on each other.

Even though Childe had wiped the flour from your face a long time ago, for some reason he didn't want to let you go right now. He wanted to hold you in his arms a little longer, because you had an irresistible influence on him, but he couldn't understand the reason why he felt such an attraction to you.

He thought that if he was closer to you as much as he could, it would let him know why you were such a desirable person for him.

The man's left hand firmly and surprisingly gently held you in his arms, as if it didn't letting you fall, and with his right hand he carefully stroked your cheek, wiping the flour from your face.

You swallowed excitedly, feeling your cheeks burn with hot fire. And as you looked at his handsome face, a thought popped into your head that you least expected to find in your head. And you put your hands up to his face. There was nowhere to retreat.

The ginger man gently lifted your chin, but immediately flinched when he felt your hands on his cheeks. With some interest and excitement, you ran your hands over all the places where his face was strewn with small freckles.

It looked like freckles were little stars in the sky, and you liked it so much. You had the feeling that the sun itself was kissing his cheeks so that beautiful freckles appeared on his cheeks.

Childe froze, afraid to make an unnecessary move, and watched you look at his face from different angles and run your gentle hands over his skin. Feeling your touch was so exciting, his chest was bursting with feelings.

"You have very beautiful freckles." You said looking into his blue eyes. You were so innocent in that moment.

The man's cheeks instantly turned red. It was beyond his strength. He couldn't remember the last time someone had made him embarrassed like that. And he couldn't remember the last time someone complimented his freckles.

And the fact that you did it now warmed his heart insanely. His heart and his vulnerable side screamed that Tartaglia needed it. But his mind told him that no one could ever accept him for who he was. Not a rich company owner, but an ordinary person who loves his family.

So he took a deep breath to clear his thoughts and carefully removed his hand from your chin, but he wasn't about to move away from you just yet.

It took him a few seconds to put his thoughts in order, put on his "bad boy" image again, smile with his signature smirk and look at you with a bold gaze.

"Is it true?" He asked slyly, putting his finger to his lips, pretending to think. His ginger curls fell over his eyes, giving him a more bold look. "And you have flour in your hair!"

You froze in front of him with wide eyes, and, like a fish thrown ashore, you opened and closed your mouth, unable to say a word. All your beautiful feelings and emotions that you experienced in such an intimate and exciting moment between the two of you instantly disappeared, leaving you with a gaping emptiness in your chest. It's like feelings weren't never there.

You looked at Tartaglia, who pretended that nothing had just happened, and felt a wave of irritation begin to rise in your chest. This man…

"I hate you!" You yelled as you shoved the laughing man away from your body and headed towards the bathroom to wash your hair. You covered your face with your hands. Your cheeks burned with red fire, because of embarrassment, and also because of his hot breath that he left on your cheek earlier.

And at that moment it seemed to you that you couldn't tear it off your skin with anything.

You two spent dinner in pleasant silence. You were glad that there was no awkwardness between the two of you because of what happened just recently. And you were grateful to Childe for keeping a straight face. He acted as if nothing had happened. And because of that, you didn't have to think about how uncomfortable he could felt about what happened.

You and he occasionally threw a few insignificant phrases at each other, otherwise just enjoying the cooked food in silence. You really appreciated the man's culinary skills, and for a person of his status, he cooked just fine.

When you two finished dinner, you took him into the living room, after that you brought bedding and a blanket.

"It's already very late, I think we're both tired." You said as you awkwardly smoothed out the wrinkles in your clothes. You looked at Tartaglia and he nodded in understanding.

"Good night, Y/n." You flinched at the sound of your own name that escaped his lips.

For some reason, it sounded so gentle, and it seemed to you that you had never heard your name sound so beautiful in someone's voice before. You nodded and said:

"Good night, Tartaglia."

When you left the room, the man flinched. You called him by his name for the first time in your and his acquaintance. Even though it wasn't his real name, it was already a big step forward. To his cherished goal. The ice gradually began to melt.

But for some reason, thinking about how he got a little closer to winning the bet, it caused him nothing but longing. The only thing he wanted right now was for you to call him by his real name.

You didn't sleep well this night. You may have been hampered by the thought of how many things you have to do over the weekend. Or maybe you couldn't sleep because today there was a man in your apartment in the next room who evoked conflicting emotions and feelings in you.

It disturbed your sleep. You constantly thought about how rude and a moron he could be with you, but these thoughts instantly disappeared when you remembered how gentle Tartaglia was when he spoke about his family or in those rare moments of your and his closeness to each other.

Your memory has inadvertently started to drift back to that moment before dinner, when the ginger man ran his hands so gently over your cheeks. This memory made you sigh in annoyance and cover your red face with your hands.

"Damn it." You cursed.

You really thought about how unlikely you will be able to sleep tonight. So you decided to go get some fresh air on the balcony in the hope that it will help you fall asleep soon. To your surprise, you found a ginger man on the balcony, leaning on the windowsill and looking out the window.

You held your breath and didn't dare to disturb this enchanting atmosphere. There was a smell of rain in the air, a light breeze blew from outside, and it made your skin crawl. Tartaglia continued to look out the window and smoked a cigarette. Cigarette smoke formed various shapes, after that it gradually dissolved into the night air, rushing towards the dark sky, that shone with bright little stars.

The stars were reflected in his beautiful blue eyes, as if in the purest glass. His skin seemed paler than usual in the dim moonlight. Your heart was beating loudly in your chest, and you thought that he could hear it, because it was very quiet around. And just as you thought that he might be able to detect your presence, you heard a hoarse voice.

"Childe."

You shuddered in fear and looked the man in the face, but now his expression wasn't mocking or bold, that you're used to. Now his face expressed only calmness and peace. Tartaglia took another puff and slowly exhaled cigarette smoke from his mouth.

"W-what?" You felt your cheeks turn red. He caught you peeping at him again.

"You can call me Childe." His voice seemed hoarse and deep when he smoked.

You didn't smoke and led a healthy lifestyle, so you didn't have an ashtray. You thought for a second, noticing a small empty cup on the windowsill.

You stepped closer to the ginger man and pushed the cup closer to him. Noticing your actions, Tartaglia nodded to you with gratitude and, taking a puff again, blew smoke from his mouth, continuing to say:

"My friends call me Childe. I'm called Tartaglia only by those with whom I'm little acquainted, or my business colleagues."

You nodded, and an unexpected warm filled your chest. It warmed your entire body, spreading through your veins to every part of your body. This feeling was so unfamiliar to you, but insanely pleasant and wonderful. You could say you could become addicted to that feeling inside you when you were next to Childe. You were pleased that he considered you his friend.

"Why aren’t you sleeping?" You asked, also looking out the window, admiring a million small stars in the dark sky.

"I can't sleep." He answered and finished his cigarette, then put it out in the makeshift ashtray you gave him. He brushed his ginger hair out of his eyes and, turning to you, asked in a low voice: "And you?"

"Me too." You sighed and shivered from the cold.

After a second, you felt a soft tissue on your body and raised your eyes in surprise at the ginger man. He stayed in one t-shirt, giving you his red shirt to keep you warm. Your cheeks turned red more, and it seemed to you that now the skin of your face was the color of Tartaglia's red shirt.

"Princess doesn't protect her health at all, since she goes out on the balcony in only her pajamas." Childe laughed merrily and tousled his hair.

"So what about you?" You asked with concern in your voice.

The ginger man turned his attention to you and slyly smiled.

"Hm, are you worried about me?"

You hid your face behind your hands in annoyance, blushing deeply. "Shut up."

Sincere laughter was heard next to you, and you carefully removed one palm from your face, looking at Tartaglia out of the corner of your eye. The ginger man stopped laughing when he looked at you again, and in that moment he felt his breath catch.

In the pale moonlight, with disheveled hair and sleepy eyes, you looked so cute. Your frail body in his big shirt continued to tremble slightly due to the cold air that lingered on the balcony. You were so beautiful in his shirt.

Your red cheeks treacherously told him that you were embarrassed. The sight made him tease you a little longer, but this time he decided to remain silent because he didn't want to embarrass you even more.

You pretended to be offended for a while, but after a few moments you relaxed and looked up at the dark sky again. The moon illuminated the black sky with its dim light, and small stars kept her company. You thought that when you and Tartaglia were silent, you were never embarrassed, and you felt peace.

You rarely met people with whom you were truly comfortable. And this ginger man next to you was definitely one of those people with whom you could always feel comfortable and good. So now you decided to share with him one of your innermost parts.

"I really miss my family." You said it and instantly attracted all of Childe's attention. He looked at you with interest in his eyes and rested his elbows on the windowsill.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, but you continued speaking through your embarrassment.

"That's why I sleep with plush toys. It helps me pretend that I'm not alone here. "

Tartaglia grunted thoughtfully, after that a slight silence hung between you two for a few moments. You gently rubbed your nose because you felt like you were about to sneeze because of the cold. A hoarse voice came from the man.

"Today you're not alone."

His words pleasant bliss spilled into your heart and soul, completely warming you. Neither the wind blowing from the window nor the cold air made you feel cold anymore. When Childe was around, you felt only warm.

"Thank you."

And now you were thinking that today you two have become a little closer to each other.

The sun's rays gradually began to illuminate a small alley in the park, that was located directly in front of your house. You have always liked to walk here on your free days, enjoying the pleasant atmosphere, the birds singing and the flowers that bloom when spring comes. Now, to your regret, the leaves gradually began to fall from the branches of the trees, leaving the tree trunks completely bare.

It was still early in the morning, but you and Childe were outside at such an early time, because last night you two couldn't sleep, and the two of you talked until morning, exchanging stories about your life and his life.

You smiled slightly, remembering his story about how he and his family went to a ski resort and how they played snowballs. You squeezed a small package with a certain thing inside, hoping it might impress. While you were in your thoughts, you didn't notice how Tartaglia approached you, putting his phone in his trousers pocket.

"The tow truck should be here soon." He said looking at you.

You nodded lightly. In the light of the rising sun, you looked like an angel in reality. And the ginger man suddenly felt a blush on his cheeks. This didn't go unnoticed by you, so you slyly narrowed your eyes and asked:

"Oh, it looks like something confused you, Mister Red Cheeks? So curious what could be the cause of your embarrassment!"

"Princess learns to embarrass other people? Looks like I'm a good teacher." He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked like he wasn't embarrassed at all.

"Don't be arrogant!" You grunted in response.

You two laughed and you looked at the rising sun. It was cold, but gradually the sun's rays began to warm your skin. Suddenly, you remembered the small package that you had been holding in your hands all this time.

"Here, take this." You said to the man, passing the package into his hands.

Tartaglia raised an eyebrow with interest, but accepted the package from your hands. He opened it and saw three small toys there. Three red foxes.

"This is…"

"You spoke so lovingly about your family, so I thought it would be nice if you gave them a gift when you get home." You said shyly, clasping your hands behind your back nervously. "I think your brothers and sister might be worried about you this night. Therefore, you should apologize to them!"

Childe excitedly felt his heart beat faster when he looked from the toys to you and back to the toys. You seemed perfect to him. Without exaggerations.

"That's very kind of you, princess." He said with a little smile, and you smiled back too.

But immediately after that Tartaglia slyly smirked.

"Do you want to steal the love of my brothers and sister from me?"

You flinched in surprise, caught off guard by his unexpected comment. You would never... Wait! Your eye twitched when you realized that the ginger man was joking again. Your cheeks instantly flushed, and you yelled in annoyance:

"I did it with all my heart! You're a fool! Stay here alone, I'm going home!"

And, turning on your heels, you threw your nose up, expressing the full extent of your resentment towards him, and hurried back to your home to finally have a good sleep. In response to your words, you heard only a loud, sincere laugh, that caused a foolish smile to appear on your face involuntarily.

Tartaglia looked after you, clutching the package with toys closer to his chest, where his heart continued to beat furiously. It seemed to him that it might jump out and chase you, begging you to stay by his side.

He smiled, assuring himself that he would do anything to ensure that this wasn't the last meeting between you and him. You made him feel like no one ever made him feel. And he didn't want to lose that feeling so quickly.

A light breeze followed you home and swept your hair in different directions, when Childe watched you walk towards your house. It seemed to him that he could continue to enjoy this view, but suddenly a message came to his phone.

He turned away from you and pulled his phone out of his pocket. His blue eyes skimmed over the text of the message.

Ayato [7:51 AM]

How is our girl doing?

— taglist: @httpmitsuya @gojoandelsalovechilde @duckyyyx @i-x4o @chishiyawifesworld @ajaxstar @kiryoutann @xiaosonlybeloved @aloveablechaos

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barbex · 2 months

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Books of 2024 (2023 or close to it)

@hoochieblues tagged me to list books and in that moment I immediately forgot about any book I have ever read. Did I even read a single book in 2023? But thank you for tagging me, I'll do my best.

“the game is to share 9 of my favourite books from the last 12 months, or 9 books on my tbr list for this year”

I'm tagging: @mareebrittenford, @dyrewrites, @tryingtimi, @tsuraiwrites, @midnightprelude, @lesetoilesfous, @tarysande

Let me list nine books I liked, I don't know if I read them all in the last 12 months, I just went to my Kindle and picked what sparked a good memory.

Band Sinister by KJ Charles M/M romance, regency historical Lots of pining and repressed feelings in this one, until it leads to wonderful sex and love. Kj Charles knows how to do it.

A Game of Hearts and Heist by Ruby Roe F/F romance, fantasy Fast paced and very sexy fantasy heist. So much sex that even I, certified smut queen, sometimes thought "Now? Really? Don't you think you're kind of busy right now?" But I enjoyed it a lot and there's two more books in the series.

Legends and Lattes by Travis Baldree cozy fantasy with a little F/F romance, fantasy This book has started a whole new trend of cozy fantasy. This is a story about what happens if the barbarian warrior lady hangs up her sword and opens a cafe. The romance is not the main story. I would have wished for a bit more introspection from the main character but I know how difficult it is to write a stoic character who doesn't want to think about feelings.

The Calyx Charm by May Peterson M/M romance, trans main character, fantasy, magic Beautiful prose! Sinister magic, darkness and families at war. Two characters so very much in love, the transwoman loved and accepted by her lover. This is the second or third book in a series but I read another book in the series and it didn't feel all that connected. And the prose was not as pretty as in this one.

Unmasked by the Marquess by Cat Sebastian NB/M romance, regency historical The main character uses she/her pronouns but I read in an interview with Cat Sebastian that, would she write the book today, they would probably use they/them pronouns. But it really doesn't matter much for either main character, the main male character already falls for the nb character when they dress and act like a man. A high stakes regency romance with the expected societal problems and lots of love.

Taji from Beyond the Rings by R. Cooper M/M romance, science fiction This book is so good! Cultural differences between species making romance and connection dangerous, feelings, sex, and politics raising the stakes every minute. I read this book again right after I finished it, it was so good.

The Elf Tangent by Lindsay Buroker F/M romance, fantasy A fun story about a human princess who loves mathematics and an elven warrior, trying to stop a war from happening. Nerdy and clever heroes with a bit of enemies to lovers.

The Hidden Moon by Jeannie Lin F/M romance, set in historic China This is like book five of a series but that didn't hinder my enjoyment. A woman, too smart for her own good, trying to solve a crime in a time when women were not allowed to do anything, especially not investigate assassinations and talk to street scoundrels. Or fall in love with said scoundrel.

---

Phew. That was a lot. Happy reading.

#tag game #books to read

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50cal-fullauto-astarion · 5 months

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Going all out on this because Dot did an amazing job with these questions:

🧩, 🦴, 🥝, ❄️ & 🦷 for the ask game, please <3!

KEZ YOU OUT HERE SPOILING MEEE 🥰🥰💖💖

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

9 times out of 10 it’s either first person POV, a character waking up for the day age describing themselves as they look in a mirror, or WALLS of text. Formatting and first paragraph will always destroy my perception of a fic, and it doesn’t matter how good it is even two sentences after that.

Another more esoteric thing is any kind of dad’s best friend or stepfather or barely legal/he’s too old for me trope. I think those are literally the most vile fucking shit, and I just block on site. And I’m all for taboos, and people writing what they want, but I’ve never seen that shit written well nor on a blog that isn’t sparkly and pink and giving off major DDlg vibes. Fucking stomach turning.

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?

Answered this guy here! But I’ll add a few others that aren��t pieces of media dfhj. The words: abattoir, incandescent, butcher, slaughter, dappled. Different deep jewel shades of blue and green. Animal eyes. Bones in odd places. Videos of interesting women cooking. Dreams about: mothers, children, fire, the apocalypse, all my lost true loves, every corner of the town I visit that I should mark on map.

🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what’s the most recent lie you told?

I lie quite a bit, but it used to be that almost every word out of my mouth was an exaggerated abs pointless lie dfhjd. Yay growing up in dysfunctional household! These days I’m much more conscientious and purposeful about being honest, and I’m always trying to improve, just going with white lies about stuff at work to make my life easier (“I need to use the restroom” means I’m going for a smoke), or at home to keep things smoother (“They were out of X creamer” means I forgot).

Most recent lie was this evening when I told my sister I had left the store and I couldn’t get her a certain brand of energy drink, but I was in the checkout line and didn’t want to go back through lmao.

❄️ ⇢ what’s your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

HO BOY SO MANY DFHJ. These are more vibes than anything solid sfhj. In alphabetical order:

@alittleposhtoad grieving in a cold place, love that has kindling in friendship, oranges peeled by one set of hands for another, tea in an old electric kettle on a black night, you can always come home here and home is what you call my head on your chest.

@dotcie two weirdos walk into a dive bar, and their mutually assured obsession exhibits as mutually assured destruction, sweating under a street lamp in a town where tourists don’t go at 3am with a man you swore you’d never see again, bedsheets they smell like sweat and home under an open window.

@kastlequill cannibalism as a type of taboo and closed religion, rage wielded elegant and precise like a blade, thought put into evils until they’re extrapolated into facets of humanity, the dichotomy of suffering as holiness and pointlessness, dangerous men they have either accepted or full on love the blood in their mouths, cities at sunset with the lights glittering on.

@parttimeprophet hey babe hehe. Animal hated paid back in animal brutality, cold women with colder determination, hell and religion and the death of god and the apocalypse, lipstick that glimmers like rubies, men that love the collars around their necks.

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

More wisdom: take breathers as much as you can in any area of life - steal then when you can at work, in hobbies, in talking, in cleaning - whether it’s 5 mins or 5 months, you need to rest, shit will be waiting for you when you get back. Don’t write down anything you don’t want read. Horses and boats are fun hobbies, but you can have the same financial experience by throwing wads of cash in a bonfire.

More life hacks: if you want to buy a used car, go for a Honda, bc you can beat the dog shit out of them for 30 years and they’ll still run like a clock. To save money, don’t get addicted to coke. The secret to the best homemade fried chicken you’ve ever had in your life is a pinch of cinnamon in your seasoned flour, and to make it crispy add a tablespoon of baking soda. Cream of tartar will make it meringue not break, but if you use too much it will taste hella metallic. 2 drops of dandelion tincture in a shot glass worth of water helps with liver and gallbladder inflammation - that’s Appalachian not crystal woowoo medicine. Don’t whistle outside at night.

#holler holler get $#DGHJJF BLESS U KEZ THANK ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

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ladytauria · 5 months

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i think i reblogged it from you but never sent you questions, so for the book rec asks: 1, 13, 23, 44, 50, 54, 79, 92, 116, 130, 131 please!! thats A Lot, so feel free to pick and choose haha

ahhh thank u bean! i love talking books uwu

coming back up after answering to edit... um. bean, i'm so sorry for my answer on the last one xD i should have picked a different book. (i ranted. a little.)

1. a book that is close to your heart

there are a few books i could name, but i'm going to do the one i thought of first.

a girl of the limberlost. i only remember reading it once, but my mother is the one who gave it to me, and told me that it was a book she loved at my age at the time. (same with the secret garden.) so i can't think of that book without thinking of her, which makes it a little bit more special to me <3

13. your favorite romance novel

immediate impulse is to say legends and lattes by travis baldree bc. it's so good. however, while there is a romance i don't know if i would count it as a romance novel.

so.

the lady's guide to celestial mechanics. historical, sapphic, featuring both women in STEM (or, yknow, historical equiv) but also an appreciation for domestic arts / crafts normally looked down on. also there's an acknowledgement that homophobia existed, but there's none on page.

the prose is also gorgeous.

i don't actually read a ton of romance novels, but i've been trying to pick up more!

23. a book that is currently on your TBR

mmm, too many

but Our Wives Under the Sea - Julia Armfield went on sale on kindle the other day so! it's mine now <3 and one i've been eying for a while. the kindle cover isn't the one i wanted, but that's okay.

44. your favourite fantasy novel

a very large chunk of what i read is fantasy. this is HARD 😂

uhhh.

the locked tomb is technically sci-fi, isn't it?

fuck.

i'm gonna go with The Last Unicorn - Peter S. Beagle bc it is the only book i purposefully own more than one copy of! would love to get my hands on the graphic novel <3

honorary mention to the Inheritence Cycle bc reading Eragon was what got me to start writing my first novel.

which absolutely wasn't just. Eragon but with griffin riders instead.

(okay, legitimately, there were differences, but there was also definitely heavy inspiration.)

50. a book that made you cry a LOT

i don't actually cry at much? the last time i remember actually crying was when i was reading an abridged version of little women and beth died xD

i'm trying to think of another book which really grabbed me emotionally recently that also isn't. already on this list. and i'm coming up empty?

54. a book with the best opening line

i don't have a good memory for opening lines ^^; however for some reason i want to say The Lightning Thief, so. that's what i'm going with.

79. a book that reminds you of your favorite song

my favorite song changes by the moment, so i don't have answer for this one ^^;

92. a book about a redeemable villain

kay, so i almost answered this question with the book i gave for the next question, but i realized i don't? read a lot of multi pov books?? or at least not that i remember being such. i did remember one but it was the second in a duology, so.

so.

anyway!

the closest i can think of atm would be Empress of Forever by Max Gladstone. (highly rec this one, though i was a little disappointed when the pairing i wanted didn't happen xD)

116. a book with multiple povs

The Stars Are Legion by Kameron Hurley.

this book.

woof.

okay, so. if you are. remotely squeamish, like. at all? you might wanna give this one a pass. (def check storygraph / other places for trigger warnings. im also happy to elaborate myself, lol.) i am. very squeamish, and made it through only because the story grabbed me tight and wouldn't let go. the worldbuilding is extremely interesting. the characters are all very different and both likeable and unlikeable in a million different ways. but.

oh boy, it was a tough one.

if you're NOT squeamish, though--

it was a 4 or 5 star read for me, iirc, so, y'know. recommended. not sure i'll ever pick it up again, but like. do not regret reading.

130. a book featuring flashbacks and/or intersecting storylines

i know i've read others like this, but the book that comes to mind is--and i had to google this bc it's been so long since i read it---Thirst by Christopher Pike. It was also published under "The Last Vampire." i don't actually recommend them; i read them during my middle school vampire phase and even i remembered being a little mindboggled. mainly bc i think there was an alien abduction in... the second or third book? idk, i had an omnibus.

131. recommend any book you like!

there's only one answer i can give to this, tbh. the locked tomb series brainrot is real and deep and i am. both highly anticipating and dreading the release of alecto so.

i gotta recommend Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir.

that SAID, i am well aware that this book has a reputation on tumblr esp for being poorly summarized, as the most oft-used pitch is "lesbian necromancers in space."

this is not an inaccurate summary.

BUT.

it is also not complete.

so first, some expectations: it's sci-fi, definitely, but also there are a lot of fantasy vibes? probably because of the swords and the necromancy and the sworn knights-esque plot. uh. basically, it's sci-fi like star wars is sci-fi, but also it's. it's not star wars.

second thing: this series is unreliable narrator central. tamsyn picks the least qualified person in the group for you to follow the story with, and it works. so well. like, firstly bc ofc things get explained (some; it does drop you in and expect you to pick up a lot through context clues) but ALSO because you WILL pick up things you didn't on re-reads. i did a reread before Nona and spent half of it screaming. i'm not much of an annotator beyond highlighting some lines on kindle but i was commenting all over the place.

uh.

i still haven't talked about the plot, my bad.

Gideon the Ninth follows the titular Gideon, after her childhood nemesis and heir to the Ninth House, is invited to the First House by the God Emperor of the Nine Houses to seek quasi-immortality and join him in fighting a war as old as the Houses themselves. When they get there, though, they soon find their fellow heir-and-cavalier pairs being picked off one by one.

this book also features a lot of gay... not pining, not really, but like. Gideon likes women and her pov spends a lot of time appreciating the other women with them xD (this is also part of what makes her unreliable as a narrator. plot? what plot? gideon is here for thirsting, and a little bit of pining.)

also mild enemies to lovers vibes.

ALSO there are memes. there's a none pizza left beef joke in book 2, i'm still not over it.

does get a little squicky at times with loving descriptions of bones and viscera, though.

if i keep talking about this book i won't ever stop <3

[ book recs ask game ]

#bean... yet again you have my sincerest apologies xD #thank you for asking!!#asks and answers #ask gaming #livvyreads #this-was-a-terrible-idea

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kine0001-art · 2 months

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'The Kindled Burrow', a hot space for many animals to mingle or drink with close friends or strangers. It's busy almost every night, the building filled with laughter and chatter. It emanated a warm atmosphere, further emphasised by the warm lighting and rustic décor making the establishment. It had a large selection of drinks too: alcoholic, non-alcoholic, juices, waters, even hot drinks like teas or coffees. The menu allowed for all inclusivity, so that you could order anything accustomed to your tastes. Anyone was welcome.

It was your first time going. After hearing so much about the bar, from friends and even from some street chatter a few times, you had decided to see what all the hype was about. It was dark out as you stood before the entrance, the sign labelling the establishment was a curled font with red highlights. Infact, most of the darkness along the streets you stood on was chased away as the almost classic-styled windows glowed with golden light and shined onto the pavements and road. The building was oozing with cosiness - you hadn't even stepped in yet and you found yourself easing your shoulders. Pushing opening the door with a paw and taking a step in, you stood on the shimmering wooden floor, sleek yet natural at the same time. The subtle cold of the outdoors was left behind at the doorway, as it felt like stepping into a living room warmed up by a log-fuelled fireplace. Your ears perked up immediately and heard laughter, while your eyes looked to the tables and bar itself, seats and barstools occupied by jolly folk grasping all kind of different drinks in their claws. The room was filled with smiles, which kindled an excitement in you. This was apparently one of the less-busy nights the place had. Seems the neon-light, reading the building's name, placed upon the velvet walls really lived upto its description. All you could see was smiles and hear was laughter, from everyone. Aside from one person. Sat in the corner of the bar on a stool, all alone and separate from the crowd, was a young goat, miserable expression on her face. She tapped a finger on the bartop, she looked impatient and agitated, which drastically stood out in the joyful environment. Everyone else seemingly ignored her, like she was invisible, occupied by their jests with one another. You did the same and ignored her. If she was annoyed and seemingly waiting for something, there was no need to disturb her - and you wanted to start meeting new people, so first thing was to get yourself a drink. You walked up to the bar, the bartender occupied by getting in on the humorous conversation with some customers. They take notice as you step up, then remember they're supposed to be tending to the bar - as a job. "Oh! Could you wait a moment? I need to get some more ice from the back, then I'll the right with you!" They have a big smile before excusing themself from the conversation with the patrons, then stepping away to a room behind the bar. Their smile was infectious, as you found yourself smiling back on impulse. "Fucking abandoning little shit." You overheard the goat grovelling to the left of you. It killed your smile as you glanced over. The goat, feeling your eyes over them, glanced back, your eyes meeting for a couple seconds. You felt awkward and were about to look away, before she suddenly spoke with the most dismissive, monotonous voice you've heard in the building. "Want something?" A couple seconds of silence between the two of you, before you came up with something to say.

#kinetics art #furry #furry art #oc #ocs #furry oc #pixel art #art #oc art #oc redesign #first person pov #oc rp #roleplay #roleplay prompts

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coldblizzardqueen · 1 year

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So I started to write a little Berena fix it set after Bernie leaves the wedding reception. It's only a beginning but I'd really appreciate any constructive opinions, if anyone is willing to read!

It's not been properly edited as this isn't (probably) a final version.

A Definition of Eternity.

Chapter 1

“Infinite or Unending Time” said a soft, immediately recognizable voice.

“What the…?” Started Serena. Catching hold of the living room door handle to steady herself as she nearly jumped out of her skin.

While trying to regain some composure, which was difficult in her very inebriated state, she watched as Bernie casually unfurled herself from her favourite armchair by the window. There was an open bottle of whiskey and a nearly empty glass on the side table next to the chair where Bernie placed her Kindle as she stood up. Pulling her shoulders back before looking directly at Serena.

“You asked me to wait…I promised eternity…Unending time.” Bernie explained evenly.

She’d originally come back to the house to collect her things. Intending to be holed up in a hotel long before her (now) former partner came home. But as she’d been throwing her things haphazardly into her suitcase. Military precision be damned. She had concluded that once again, she’d allowed Serena to throw a grenade at their relationship, without putting up even the smallest fight. Without making herself and her feelings heard. She’d walked away with a sloppy salute and a pained smile.

So, she’d stopped her packing, changed into more comfortable clothes and ensconced herself in the armchair with an excellent single malt and a good book. Waiting for Serena to return.

“Why are you…? Serena’s eyes drew together in adorable confusion. The door she gripped by the handle swaying gently backwards and forwards.

Bernie smiled softly. She itched to steady Serena and help her to bed. Hold her close.

“Sitting here reading at three in the morning?” she questioned.

Serena sighed. Not a put-upon sigh. An unguarded sigh. The one that contained something like awe or…dare Bernie hope… happiness “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Bernie tried to maintain eye contact, but it was almost impossible to keep track of Serena’s glassy, unfocused gaze. She spoke quietly but firmly, “I need to have a real conversation with you Serena. I don’t want to walk away from us without at least honestly telling you how I feel.”

She shuffled her feet, briefly looking down at them. She smiled. She'd forgotten she was wearing Serena’s slippers. Looking back up she explained “I stayed tonight because I wasn’t sure I’d be brave enough to come back tomorrow.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And walking away before we’ve sat down and talked properly, just felt wrong to me.

Serena moved away from the swaying door. She was starting to look a little green. Dropping herself onto the overstuffed sofa, she slurred sadly, “We have talked Bernie. We agreed. We’re just not the right sort of manimaul…mani…” She flapped her arms uselessly, “Oh, you know what we said.”

Bernie moved towards her partner (ex? Not if she could help it) “Go to bed love. I’ll bring you up a glass of water and some paracetamol.” She offered her hand and pulled Serena up from the sofa.

Her balance being impeded meant that Serena fell into Bernie’s arms. She briefly nuzzled her neck before she realised that she couldn’t do that anymore and tried to straighten herself up.

“I think I mish be sofa on the safer!” Serena pronounced in a breathy huff. She smiled sloppily, looking up at Bernie, “I do…I do’slove you.”

Ignoring the soused declaration, Bernie slid her own arm around Serena’s waist, and slung Serena’s arm around her neck. “Come on, I’ll help you upstairs.” She really didn’t fancy a trip to the hospital tonight and Serena was likely to do herself an injury if left to her own devices.

The trip up the stairs was made more difficult by the fact that Serena seemed to be nodding off, even as she walked, to the point Bernie was taking most of her weight. “Good job I’m a Big Macho Army Medic.” She murmured to herself as she manoeuvred her precious cargo into the bedroom.

She whipped back the duvet on the side of the bed closest to her and gently deposited Serena onto the mattress. She pulled her shoes off and undid the top button on her trousers, so she would be a little more comfortable and covered her with the duvet. Unable to resist, she placed a kiss on Serena’s forehead. “I love you too.” She whispered as she turned out the light and left the room.

After checking everywhere was locked up downstairs, and placing the promised water and paracetamol by Serena’s bedside, Bernie took herself into Jason’s old room and got ready for bed.

Tomorrow, she was going to try and metaphorically shake some sense into Serena. Slippers, bins and swings…she thought. How can they possibly be reasons to throw away what they had. She had a lot to say about their break-up conversation and she was ready to fight.

To be continued? Should I? Thoughts welcome.

#berena #bernie wolfe #fanfiction #serena campbell #first attempt at fanfiction #new berena story #fix it fic #the definition of eternity #ao3 #holby city

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whimsicalworldofme · 2 years

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Saving Grace: Chapter Twenty-One

Steve is worried Nat is up to something shady and Grace decides to do a little something to distract him. (This is predominantly just straight up smut, but of the sweet variety? I don't really do agressive type smut with choking and dirty talk, etc. It is what it is *shrug* if you don't like smut or are under 18, look away)

Gentle hands pried the Kindle from Grace’s grasp, bringing her halfway out of her sleep, at least enough to remember she had fallen asleep while reading. She heard it being set down on her nightstand, then a few seconds later she felt the weight of Steve’s body drop to a seat on his side of the bed. She pulled in a deep breath through her nose and let out a little sigh.

“What time is it?” She asked.

“Go back to sleep,” Steve said gently as he laid down, kissing her cheek before nestling down and wrapping his arms around her, drawing her flush to his bare chest. He yawned and sighed deeply, contently, as he snuggled up to her, one hand finding hers and taking hold of it.

Grace knew the last time she had checked the clock it had been three in the morning. Late nights weren’t unusual for him, but they always left her worried.

“Are you ok?” She asked, wondering what kind of mission could’ve taken so long, if anything had gone wrong. He couldn’t talk specifics with her any more than she could discuss therapy patients with him, but she tried to get him to open up in general terms to at least decompress.

“Steve?” She knew he wasn’t asleep because he was rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand. When he didn’t answer still, she rolled over to face him, able to make out his crestfallen expression in the glow of the streetlamps filtering through the window.

“What’s wrong?” She cupped his face with her palm, looking him in the eye, though his gaze fell downward almost immediately.

“Nat’s keeping secrets from me,” he muttered.

“What do you mean?” Grace knew Nat to be a woman almost entirely comprised of secrets. How could he tell if anything is different?

“On this mission, I caught her doing something outside of our objective. She wouldn’t say why, only that she had different orders that she couldn’t tell me.” His brow furrowed as he frowned, eyes still downcast, focused on their hands still intertwined together. “We’ve been partners for two years. Why is she suddenly keeping secrets from me?”

When he looked up at her again, Grace could see the intense pain in his eyes. Scooting closer, she began to lightly brush her fingertips through his hair, pushing back from his temple, massaging his scalp, knowing it soothed him.

“Nat’s always had secrets,” she tried to reassure him. “And there is one fairly big one you’re keeping from her,” she joked, trying to lighten his mood. With a soft smile, Steve leaned forward and kissed her sweetly on the lips.

“This isn’t a dangerous secret to keep,” he replied. “But if she’s doing something in the field that I don’t know about, we could both get hurt, or worse.”

“Did you try talking to her about it after?” Grace’s heart broke, seeing how much this hurt him. Other than her, Nat was one person he considered a true friend. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”

“She said to take it up with Fury,” he sighed again.

“Will you?” She continued to play with his hair, seeing his eyelids grow heavy as it lulled him to sleep.

“Tomorrow,” he said with a nod, his eyelids finally drifting shut. “After I sleep.”

Grace kissed him again, feeling him smile into her kiss, before nestling up to him, resting her head against his chest and shutting her eyes. She held him close, listening to the beat of his heart and the slowing rhythm of his breathing, waiting for him to fall asleep before she let herself drift off again. It was uncommon for Steve to sleep in, but when Grace finally came to the next morning, the sun had already been up for a few hours, there was traffic moving on the street below, and he was still wrapped around her, holding her tight, even in his sleep.

These are the moments, she thought, that I wouldn’t trade for anything. Waking up like this in the morning. Watching him cook dinner then washing the dishes together after. Holding hands in the grocery store. Little normal things. I can’t imagine this with anyone else.

She studied his face, his long brown eyelashes, the gentle bow of his lips, the definition of his cheeks. They were all things she loved about how he looked, things that hadn’t changed from the serum. Sometimes little insecurities he had from being so sickly and small as a kid, from being bullied and passed over, came to light and she had to help him work through it. When people recognized him out in public, it always made him shrink into himself, because if they’d crossed paths with pre-serum Steve, they wouldn’t have given him the time of day and he knew it. It made him worry that if anything were to happen to him, to change his physical appearance or ability, most people would abandon him. And that left him unsure of who he could trust, who actually cared about him, not just the image of Captain America, which is why beyond Grace and Nat, he pretty much kept to himself.

“I can tell when you’re staring at me,” Steve mumbled which made her jump a little in surprise. He opened one eye to look at her, groggy but sparking with mischief. “Not that I mind,” he yawned and shut his eyes again. “But I prefer waking up feeling your hands on my body, not just your eyes.”

“Oh, is that so?” Grace laughed.

“Have you heard any complaints yet?” He asked, smirking but nestling more comfortably into his pillows.

“All right, Captain Rogers.”

She pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist, which made his eyes fly open, grinning as he watched her, an unspoken challenge in his eyes that said “What are you going to do?” He may not want her to see him as Captain America, but he got very turned on when she called him Captain Rogers in bed and started giving him orders. He grabbed her hips, his fingertips digging into the softness there.

“Hm, hold on,” she slipped off him and he groaned, very visibly aroused. Grace stood beside the bed and leaned down to kiss him. “Be patient.”

“Torturer,” he huffed.

Heading to the closet, she found the hanger he kept his ties on and picked two simple black ones, ones that wouldn’t be hard to replace if they got damaged. Slipping them off the hanger, she slung them around her neck and sashayed her way back to the bed, watching him laugh at the exaggerated way she swung her hips.

“What are you up to?”

He eyed her suspiciously, though she was pretty sure he had an idea where this was headed. Climbing back on top of him she set about tying one of the ties around his left wrist and forcing his arm up to the headboard so she could tie the other end of the tie to the metal bars. As she leaned forward to tie it securely, he slipped his free hand along the back of her neck and pulled her down so he could kiss her hungrily on the lips.

“Uh uh,” she tsked after his lips brushed against hers once and pushed him back down into the pillows. “Wait,” she commanded.

He pouted but did as he was told. Grace tugged lightly on the tie, making sure he was sufficiently restrained before grabbing his other hand and repeating the process. Steve’s eyes stayed on her the entire time, bright and excited, all interest in sleep lost. Once she finished, she leaned down and whispered in his ear.

“Only I’m allowed to touch.”

The excitement turned to fire in his eyes and Grace knew this was more than he could’ve thought to ask for. She began kissing along his jawline as she straddled his waist, her hands combing through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. He tugged lightly at the restraints, clearly wanting to reciprocate, and she couldn’t help but smile. When he turned his head, trying to coax her to kiss him on the lips, she ignored him, moving to his neck.

“Should I leave a mark on you?” She asked, nipping lightly at his skin, just enough to graze, not enough to really hurt or leave any signs of what she’d done. “I think you’re owed a bit of revenge for every single hickey I’ve had to cover up when going back home.”

“None of those have been intentional,” he insisted. “Not the visible ones anyway,” he turned his head slightly to look at her, a wicked grin on his lips.

“Hmm.”

Grace considered it and trailed more kissed down his neck and along his shoulder, nipping every so often, then kissing and sucking to work against whatever minor pain she’d inflicted. Sliding down, she scratched her nails lightly down his chest, enough for him to feel it and maybe leave a mark, but not enough to actually hurt. Now straddling his hips, she began to circle her own, grinding against him, teasing and tormenting him to the point of agony. She saw him tug half-heartedly against the ties again and stopped.

“Cruel,” he whimpered.

Without responding, she sat up and grabbed the hem of his shirt that she’d worn to sleep and pulled it up and over her head, tossing it onto the floor and watching him stare hungrily at her bare body. His eyes roved over every inch of her breasts, her stomach, her hips, and thighs, all the soft, grab-able parts of her that he loved to pinch, squeeze, and caress, but couldn’t touch at the moment.

“Absolutely cruel,” he groaned, licking his lips.

She shifted back even further, pushing his legs apart so she could kneel between them. Sliding his boxers down, she let his cock spring free, ready for her to do whatever she pleased. He’d said he wanted to feel her hands, so that’s where she began, with slow gentle strokes. Steve let out a moan and moved his hips in tandem, but when he started trying to push her into a faster pace, she took her hand away.

“Patience, Captain,” she chided. “If you don’t behave, I’ll leave you tied up and make you watch while I play by myself.”

She leaned back on her heels, hands on her knees, waiting, despite the fact that she wanted nothing more than to ride him to the point of breaking the bedframe. Even though he complained, they both knew he liked this dynamic and he liked it when she made him wait. Steve craned his neck, staring her down, challenging her without a word, waiting to see who would break first and re-engage. Arching her back slightly, she reached up and pulled her hair up into a ponytail, very aware of how her boyfriend kept his eyes on her, observing each and every way her body moved. She loved seeing how easily she could unravel him, how deeply he wanted her, how awed he was by her.

“We can just get rid of these,” Grace stated as she shifted back, pulling his boxers all the way off and tossing them on the floor with her shirt. He kicked his feet and grunted as he shifted, trying to get more comfortable, his head flopping back into the pillows as he stared up at the ceiling, grinding his teeth and trying not to complain so as not to prolong the torment.

After a minute, Grace let her hand go back to work, followed by her mouth. She licked slowly up his shaft before swirling her tongue around his tip, making him moan before she took as much of him into her mouth and throat as possible, humming as she did, a little thing she’d learned along the way to add that extra something. When she could feel him getting close to climax, she stopped.

“Why?!” He let out a bitter laugh, pleading as he beat his head against the pillows.

“You’re pitiful,” she inched forward until her face was hovering over his. “Should I put you out of your misery?” She asked teasingly, leaning down to kiss him.

The way he kissed her back was like a starving man given his first bite of food. He didn’t answer the question, but Grace knew she’d teased him enough. Scooting back again, she took a moment to position herself properly and used her hand to guide his cock as she sank onto him, which caused her to whimper in pleasure. He always felt so perfectly good inside her. Steadying herself with her palms flat against his abs, she began to rock her hips, sliding gently back and forth at first, easing into things. Steve had no problems thrusting up and into her, even with his hands tied up and her full weight on top of him. His constant claims that she weighed nothing to him weren’t all talk.

“Slowly,” she instructed, feeling him try to speed up, pushing the heels of her hands into his abdomen. “Slowly,” she felt her breath hitch in her throat.

She decided to put on a show. Using her knees to keep a tight hold on his body beneath her and maintain her balance, she moved her fingertips tantalizingly up her stomach to her breasts, kneading and massaging them for him to see, throwing her head back and shutting her eyes as she felt every stroke and sensation. One hand moved lower, slipping between her legs to rub light circles along her clit.

“Oh my god, you always feel so good,” she murmured, which made Steve grunt and move a little faster. Grace’s fingers sped up until she came with an exclamatory moan, the pleasure making her whole body tremble. She contemplated riding it out with him still going, but slid forward and off of him, pausing to catch her breath. She watched Steve pull his hands forward, breaking the ties in half as though they were nothing more than limp noodles, proving he could’ve broken free at any point during her antics. With one quick move, he had her on her back, his lips on hers, moving down to her jaw, then neck, biting a little more roughly than she had, before moving down to her breasts, which his mouth worshiped with reverent kisses, tortured with firm bites, and teased by sucking on her nipples. Giggling at how riled up she’d managed to get him, Grace allowed him to do whatever he wanted, slinging her arms around his neck and playing her fingertips into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear after kissing his way back up her neck. “Even when you tease me like that.”

“I love you too,” she answered, eyes shutting in bliss, only to feel him push her legs open with his knee before thrusting into her. “God,” she bit her bottom lip, clinging to him tightly as he set a punishing pace, not interested in dragging things out to repay the torment she’d dealt him. The headboard clattered against the wall, but any noise Grace made was muted by Steve kissing her. It didn’t take long for him to hit his own climax, which slowed him down as he rode it out, with slower, gentle strokes before he finally collapsed, breathless beside her.

Sweating and chests heaving, they laid there, side by side, staring at the ceiling. Steve took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to it before clasping it in both of his hands against his chest.

“Worth the wait?” Grace asked.

“Absolutely,” Steve laughed. He took one hand away from hers and raked it back through his hair. “I was supposed to be out of here over an hour ago to talk to Fury.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Grace turned her head to gape at him. “Steve, you have to go!”

“Would you have said anything if our roles were reversed?” He asked, turning his head to look her in the eye, the corner of his mouth tipped upward in a smirk. “It’s fine. Not a lot about my work with S.H.I.E.L.D. is set in stone. As long as I show up for missions on time, that’s all that matters.”

“You should still get moving,” she insisted, squeezing his hand. “I know you wanted to ask about what happened with Nat. The sooner you get that settled, the better you’ll feel.”

“I’m feeling very good right now,” he quipped.

“You can’t block out negative feelings with sex,” her inner therapist came out.

“I can try,” he grinned, but when she shot him a glare, he straightened up. “I know. I know. I’m going,” he groaned and got up, pushing himself to his feet. He shuffled over to her side of the bed and scooped her up, one arm around her back, the other under her knees, keeping her close to his chest. “Shower first.”

Chapter Twenty

Masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Two

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kamreadsandrecs · 8 months

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My DAD AND I agree on most things: Bloody Marys are vastly superior to mimosas. On YouTube, “Yoga with Kassandra” beats “Yoga with Adriene.” The Yankees over…is there even a question? (This season, maybe.)

But we can’t seem to settle one debate: Are e-readers superior to physical books? I, a millennial, can’t get enough of hard copies, while my baby boomer dad is enamored with his Kindle Paperwhite (from $140), which uses a unique no-glare lighting system to replicate a traditional reading experience more closely than a phone or tablet. It’s tough to operate at first, he said, but you soon get the hang of it. He also likes that it lets him control the font and its size, as well as brightness. “And you can stop wherever you want—you don’t have to put a bookmark in it—and it’ll take you back there.”

I was surprised to learn that many in his generation seem to be on the same page. Amazon says more than one-third of Kindle customers are 55 or older.

Vicki Strull, a brand strategist and packaging designer in Atlanta in her early 50s, is a Kindle evangelist. She initially bought hers in 2012, as a gift for her middle-school-aged children. After the device had collected dust for two years, Strull brought it to the beach on a whim. She was hooked, especially since the Kindle’s waterproof “pages” wouldn’t disintegrate if her soggy kids dripped on them.

Once Strull became a Kindle convert, she purchased one for her parents, now in their mid-eighties, who she says love it and heavily rely on it. “When my mother wakes up in the middle of the night, she uses her e-reader,” Strull said. Since it lights itself, the Kindle doesn’t disturb her father’s sleep.

Her kids don’t understand. “To this day,” she said, her now-high school- and college-age children “refuse to read a book on an e-reader.”

I can relate. I’ve tried a Kindle, but always miss the tactility of hardcovers or paperbacks. I love being able to scribble notes in the margins or fold over particularly captivating pages so I can revisit them later. Call me a Luddite, but the thought of my great-great-grandchild picking up my dog-eared and marked-up copy of Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s “Gift from the Sea” brings me great joy.

I don’t think that kid will ever find my equally loved copy of Heather Lende’s “Find the Good: Unexpected Life Lessons from a Small-Town Obituary Writer” in the magnetic dust of my long-dead Kindle.

Devin Smith, 26, a marketing and public relations manager in Brooklyn, N.Y., knows the appeal of print all too well, with more than 100 books crammed into her “tiny” apartment. “I love to collect all the books I have read as a tangible memento of the stories they represent,” she said.

Though reading is a solitary act, Smith says physical books invite connection with others. She likes reading on the subway and in parks and being stopped by those eager to know whether she’s enjoying the story or shares their (often strong) feelings about the author. “There’s something about the visual of a physical book that immediately opens you up to conversation with strangers.”

For other younger readers, a physical book offers a blessed break from a digitized life. Christopher Lee, 32, a health tech strategist in San Diego, finds reading e-books too much like work. “I try to consume and apply the information quickly,” he said. Hardcovers signal leisure and let him relax.

“Easier on my eyes” is Erica Riley’s verdict on real books. The 29-year-old public relations professional in Morocco, Ind., also says she finds the motion of turning a page so much more satisfying than yet more tapping on yet another screen.

Interestingly, the option to tap, not page-turn, is what sold Frances Spillane, 57, a Boston mental health counselor, on e-books. With arthritis in her hands, hard copies trigger pain; she can read a book on her iPad’s Kindle app more comfortably. And the e-reader app lets Spillane quickly search and access the large collection of therapy books she needs for work wherever she happens to be.

Still, Spillane experiences pangs for the printed tome. “I miss the feel of turning pages,” she said. “I sometimes buy a physical copy of my favorite books, just to hold it in my hands.”

Even my e-book-devoted dad, who has kept a hard copy of “The Catcher in the Rye” handy as long as I can remember, would understand that.

#books #technology #reading

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kammartinez · 8 months

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I was surprised to learn that many in his generation seem to be on the same page. Amazon says more than one-third of Kindle customers are 55 or older.

Her kids don’t understand. “To this day,” she said, her now-high school- and college-age children “refuse to read a book on an e-reader.”

Still, Spillane experiences pangs for the printed tome. “I miss the feel of turning pages,” she said. “I sometimes buy a physical copy of my favorite books, just to hold it in my hands.”

Even my e-book-devoted dad, who has kept a hard copy of “The Catcher in the Rye” handy as long as I can remember, would understand that.

#books #technology

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god-whispers · 1 year

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may 8

idols in our life or ties that bind

"God is the Lord, and He has given us light; bind the sacrifice with cords to the horns of the altar." psa 118:27

yes, it’s easy to scoff and say, “no way would i place an idol over God. those people must have been so easily influenced!” but the truth is, we have a long list of idols today.

idolatry, by its definition, is when someone or something becomes #1 in our life, surpassing God. idols are formed when we substitute “time with God” with “time with [insert idol here].” even good things can become idols if we aren’t careful.

a few examples:

1. sex. a most precious gift from God to the bridal couple — not to be opened until after marriage — is the sexual union that not only leads to intimacy but also to the fulfillment of one of His first commandments to man and woman: be fruitful and multiply (gen 1:28). today the sexual union has left the closed-door bedroom and hit the political stage. it has been tainted and violated and abused and used to abuse.

2. technology and entertainment. we simply cannot live without our cell phones, our laptops, our smart tvs. what if we unplug and miss something? like pavlov’s dog, we hear the notification ding, and we immediately look. we cannot take a trip without our laptops or ipads or kindles, and heaven help us if our televisions don’t come equipped with all the latest apps, which we will scroll through ad nauseum because the sheer volume has left us unable to make a simple decision. other forms of entertainment that can become idols are video games, music, musical instruments, or sports. how much time do we spend being entertained, all by things which will pass away, rather than being in the presence of God, who will always be?

3. money, which is not bad in and of itself. it’s just metal and paper, really. but to pursue it above all else turns it from what we need to make purchases to what we cannot get enough of. paul said, “the love of money is the root of all kinds of evils” (1 tim 6:10). and so it goes. many of us today are concerned about economics and justifiably so. but do we put our faith and hope in the provision of stocks and bonds, or in God?

4. careers/status. sometimes we cannot climb to the top fast enough or make the top high enough. we earn a degree, and we want another. then another and another. education is a good thing to have until it becomes all we seek after.

5. relationships. falling in love is wonderful but when the object of our affection becomes more important than God, we have made that person into an idol. spouses, parents, siblings, friends, even our children can become idols when time with them becomes of such significance, we have no time for God.

6. creature comforts. when i read the acts of the apostles and dig into biblical history to understand the hardships the men and women who carried the good news of Christ to the world went through, i am saddened by what we think the world owes us as today’s ambassadors. we are not to pursue comfort; we are to pursue God.

7. our bodies/ourselves. nearly everything in today’s advertising world tells us to look younger, work out more, dress sexier. we have made our bodies into idols that must be looked after, pampered, cared for, and pushed to the limit. we have placed our identity in ourselves — who we are and what we look like — rather than in who we are in Christ. of course we esteem our bodies as the temple of the Holy Spirit but not to the extent of glorifying them.

other idols can be fame, influence, “things,” hobbies, etc. we each could create our own list.

remember, none of these things are wrong in and of themselves. there is nothing wrong with enjoying a hobby or working out. there is nothing wrong with earning money or purchasing trinkets. there is nothing wrong with sitting in first class rather than coach - or owning a coach purse. but when these things come first in our lives, we’ve created an idol.

our uttermost devotion and desire must be towards Christ. the greatest commandment says to put God above all else. only then can we give love to our family and friends like they really deserve. Jesus had some hard sayings. "follow Me, and let the dead bury their own dead." matt 8:22 - or - "he who loves father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me. and he who loves son or daughter more than Me is not worthy of Me." matt 10:37

remember lots wife; a warning we all should heed. she looked back at something with longing and missed out on her salvation. i came by today to encourage you to break out, lay aside the ties that bind, and seek the Lord with all of your heart and most definitely, love the Lord God with all your heart, soul and mind.

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ssvas1966 · 1 year

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ARUNACHALA RAMANA - Achalam to Arpanam – A Silent journey towards Self (Six days and six nights of solitude and peace)

Achalam to Arpanam – A Silent journey towards Self

(Six days and six nights of solitude and peace)

a. I was aspiring for a long time to be away from the hustle and bustle of LIFE for uplifting my low spirits and regain some good health. Initially I thought of going for a rejuvenation camp at Ujire – Naturopathy hospital; later decided that the mind is the one which require more of attention than body. This made me search for an opening. My next thought was to join a third Vipassana course for full ten days and I started scouting for good centers. Dharmashala was very inspiring and another center in Sikkim attracted me. But the cost and time effectiveness was an issue.

When I saw that there is an active Center near Tiruvannamalai, I decided that this is THE place which I was longing for quite some time. I had planned a family visit to this divine place blessed with the presence of Shri Ramana Maharshi and could not make it for long. During a recent visit to Bangalore, Veenu bought a book written by Arthur Osborne – Teachings of Ramana Maharshi and this actually kindled my silent quest with life.

b. The very purpose of visit to Ramanashramam was to get the required equilibrium in the presence of Master of Silence and to continue with the practice of Vipassana at Dhamma Arunachala. One good old friend came very handy to get an accommodation at Ramanasramam and the name of the Guest house was “ACHALAM”.

During our last visit (more than 12 years ago) we could not stay in the Ashram and were very disappointed. It also occurred to me that Chinmaya would love this place and made him join me for this journey. Time was a serious constraint with two Charges to handle. The moment I could finish an urgent work at Office, booked early morning flight to Bangalore to save time and took a bus to Tiruvannamalai. I was worried about Chinmaya getting bugged with journey and my plans of not planning anything did not happen !!! This was deliberately planned to be one aspect in developing acceptance to the circumstances making ourselves stronger. But I had to restrain myself to give this experience to Chinmaya.

c. We landed at Ashram at around 4.30 pm and to our great disappointment the request for stay was denied. After much persuasion and talk, we were allowed to stay. As per Ashram rules, one should send a mail and after getting a confirmation only we are allowed to stay. This is to avoid tourists, visitors and not so serious devotees from thronging and disturbing the serenity of Ashram. Moreover, there was also a serious water crisis in Tamilnadu.

We immediately went to Achalam and get ourselves ready for a visit of Ashram as the time was very less. We took a list of activities and scrupulously followed. The first thing which attracted is Veda parayana by cute little boys in the Gurukul. We had a short talk with Shri Srinivasa Murthy, an erstwhile Doctor from Bangalore and presently a permanent resident of Ashram and in charge of stay. He could give a glimpse of the teachings and life story of Sri Ramana Maharshi and also present activities of Ashram.

It was fascinating to listen to his composed voice about the teachings of Ramana and his life story. Our journey towards Self had begun with a little conversation with this nice gentleman.

d. I had already started reading a book written by Arthur Osborne – Teachings of Ramana Maharshi and I found that the teaching is entirely based on Advaitha, which was quite close to my heart. The direct method of Self enquiry taught by the Maharshi was a mesmerizing thought and I got deeply immersed into it. This was also a triggering point to visit Ramanashramam. I had to postpone my solitary internal journey as I had an obligation to take care of Chinmaya. End of the day we were so hungry and had to retreat to the benches of Lunch hall.

After eating to the brim, again it was paining to walk back to the guest house. When we were hungry there was pain-ache, and when we loaded our stomach, there was again pain. I told Chinmaya that as per Adi Sankara, hunger is a disease and the food is its medicine !! The context with which it was told could not be elaborated as we were also sleepy after a long journey.

e. Next day early morning our quest continued to test physical stamina as we undertook “Girivalam” literally meaning “Giri Pradakshina” – a walk around the sacred hill “Arunachala” which is about 14 kms. Started at around 4 a.m. and Chinmaya did not really like it due to sprained ankle. We stopped several times and I was trying to encourage him that it is a test of stamina and many devotees were doing rounds. Due to his injured angle joints, he got exhausted after about 10 kms and I saw no further point in continuing. Took an auto and went to Arunachaleshwara Temple – one of the largest Shivan – temples in South India.

This temple is known to be Agni Lingam and we actually experienced the heat inside sanctum sanctorum. It was just like entering an Oven and heat penetrating from all sides at 360 degrees. It was fascinating to see so much heat generated only at this place and we enjoyed morning serene Darshan of Lord Shiva. By this time, it was time for breakfast and before that we had to visit his better half which we did quickly. After coming out, we had temple prasadam – Puliyogere, Sakra Pongal and there was no need for any other breakfast.

f. This is a very ancient and sacred temple where Ramana Maharshi came in his younger days from Madurai. It’s a huge temple with four entrances with the majestic background of Arunachala hills. Ramana renounced everything in the pond and became a saint in this holy place. It is said that he sold his ear rings and took a train and later walked upto Arunachala only to contemplate on SELF. As an young boy, he had a near death experience and got self-realized in the intensity of his experience.

His teachings were mostly based on noble SILENCE and many foreign devotees carried his message across the country. His direct method of Self enquiry based in Silence was the precursor to my next part of the program at Dhamma Arunachala. I may be too small and beginner to write about his teachings and can only boast that we took our life turning decision in Ramana Ashram in Bangalore. (This is where myself and Veenu took an instant decision to get married!! It all started here.)

g. Back in Ashram, we meticulously planned to attend all the daily activities and attended one by one. Ashram has a definite schedule from 4.00 am in the morning till 9 pm. They follow strictly all the programs and we couldn’t miss any. It includes chanting of Vedas twice a day, Puja followed by Narayana Seva (poor feeding) reading from the teachings of Ramana, Tamil Parayana and selected Sanskrit Compositions of Adi Shankara.

There’s an Ashram Gurukul where they teach Krishna Yajurveda to young lads. There will be a sumptuous lunch at 11.30 sharp and only Ashram invitees and residents are allowed to take food. Chinmaya was fully satisfied with the variety and quality of food served and again stomach got filled up till the brim which made us sleep for more than an hour in the guest house.

h. We came back to Ashram to climb the hill which involves about 1.4 kms trek uphill to reach Skandashram and climbing down to Virupaksha Cave. Earlier days, we used to visit a number of caves in the deep forest area which is now prohibited by the Department. This is where Ramana stayed for more than 17 years and occasionally used to visit Ashram when his mother insisted to come and see him here.

It was an interesting story that one sage from Karnataka named Virupaksha came here more than 400 years ago and the villagers were taking care of him on the hill side cave. They bring food every day and have darshan of this saintly man. One day he said not to come for a day and next day when they visited, it was only a heap of ashes in the cave and the man has disappeared. It is believed that he left his body in the form of ashes and there is a mound in the cave where Ramana meditated for long.

i. It’s now time to explore Ashram book depot where we could get food for thought. The atmosphere in Ashram is so serene and peaceful that we could see a number of peacocks walking along with us within Ashram premises. It was photography time and they were posing well to the DSLR. Chinmaya had never seen such a calm and peaceful place and he thoroughly enjoyed its serenity and tranquility.

Surprisingly, when we sat for a while in meditation hall, time flicked away like anything. He thought that it is about 10 minutes and it was actually more than 35 minutes. It was an amazing experience just to be in this place doing nothing visibly, but it greatly enhanced our energies and mental composure.

j. With peaceful and pleasant memories, Chinmaya left alone to Bangalore and I continued my solo journey to a place called Perumbakkam (10 kms from Tiruvannamalai) to reach Dhamma Arunachala, an organic Vipassana Center. Co incidentally the cottages were beautifully named as Achalam, Anuttaram, Anantham and finally

“Arpanam” where I stayed in solitary confinement for three full days. This is where theory followed with practice of Silence. When I was reading the Book mentioned earlier, I could find references to other practical methods of self-realization which included a practice of observing breath as a means to contemplate Self, as explained by Maharshi.

There is a direct link with this method and the teachings of Buddha which came in the form of Vipassana as a tool to eradicate deep rooted Sankharas (habit patterns) to purify the mind. The teachings focused on a method of observing the sensations caused by the defilement's of mind and allowing them to evolve and evaporate as we keep observing with a Sakshi bhaav (witness-state).

k. For the next three days, it was noble SILENCE which gave us company along with organic food (Red rice, mint tea, totally unpolished cereals used for preparing food). The entire structure is mostly made up of mud and bricks made locally, and of course Mangalore tiles used for roof. There was also Pagoda halls for serious meditators in the background of Arunachala hills.

A complete plan of rainwater harvesting and no wastage is allowed. We are not allowed to use detergents and the likes to spoil the environs. The place was very windy and hot but natural atmosphere without any disturbance from outside world, except honking of a bus at a gap of every one hour.

l. Experiences of a short course in Vipassana only enhanced my understanding of human nature and my own Self. It used to be around 13 hours of meditation in a day with complete silence. It was a refreshing observation of the Self for three days, including my own low back pain which kept on bothering me throughout the sitting. Of course, it also helped me to observe some deep-rooted defilement's coming to the surface and passing away.

Nothing stays for eternity and the principle of “Anicha” (a Pali word for impermanence) got deep rooted in the mind. Back to Bangalore, I could read some more teachings of Maharishi and they just Silenced my mind without further doubts and queries. This all looked like a new beginning and we came back Home with bodies energized and mind refreshed with Silence.

m. It is said that solitude is an attitude of mind and the real silence is in achieving a still mind. A detached man is therefore, always in solitude and he need not be running away from the hustle and bustle of LIFE. As per the teachings of Maharishi, the abstract knowledge is transmitted through EGO in the form of thoughts and words.

Words are the great grandsons of this original source and if words can produce an effect of this proportion, how much more powerful preaching through silence might be. The inner silence is self-surrender and means living without the sense of Ego.

Silence is said to be perennial and speech is only an interruption. All these gems of thoughts got correlated in deep contemplation and we returned ourselves to Home. These words are not exactly mine and liberally picked up from the teachings of Ramana Maharshi.

To look deeply into the eyes of Ramana itself gives us a sense of silent introspection and a re-assurance that we all can remain in long lasting eternal peace through silencing the mind and making a self-enquiry as to

WHO AM I ???, which is the very essence of teaching of Ramana Maharshi.

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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ataraxia. - ch. 5 [ diluc x reader ]

ch. 5 - regularity's dawn pairing: diluc x gn!reader warnings: mention of prior-obtained injuries. diluc is rich. uh,,, typical warnings for this series. words: ~1.9k words fic masterlist [ prev ] - [ next ] chapter summary: just you (a farmer), diluc (an unknown variable), and a dog (of the canine variety) existing in your house. you, of course, wish there were only two of you there... you think. well, no matter what, the dog is staying. a/n: mmm domesticity except the reader can't handle domesticity. but hold on guys,,, hold on,,, its happening,,, slowly !!! :D sorry it's been 28 years for this update lol

"y'know," you set the bags of groceries down onto the kitchen counter as diluc hobbles into the room after you. "fatui presence in the city is increasing."

today is the twenty-first day since diluc has arrived at your doorstep. things have changed in your home and in the world outside. for starters, you've begrudgingly acclimated to the presence of another within your household. diluc is rather polite, much to your behest. he doesn't pry into your past, he doesn't rifle through your things, and, from what you can tell, he hasn't gone into your bedroom without permission.

diluc respects the boundaries between the two of you and it pisses you off. for a man who showed up half-alive to your place of residence, diluc keeps himself together in a frustratingly fascinating manner. he's gotten accustomed to crutches. he washes dishes for you, despite the cast on his wrist and insistence that you can do it yourself. hell, with his pyro vision, you don't even need to worry about firewood nor kindle for the kitchen stove. diluc is oddly self-sufficient for a man as injured as he is.

however, it's not like you're not looking to take care of him. it's just irritating to see this man being able to pick himself right back up and act like everything is okay, even if crutches are tucked into his armpits and supporting his weight. you're no fool, though. you know things aren't perfect for the redhead. you can see it in the wistful glimmer of his eyes when it rains and you can see it in the way that it looks like he wants to speak but doesn't know how.

diluc picks himself back up from his injuries, sure, but you can tell it's a hollow husk of the person he used to be. besides, you're wise enough to know that a broken wrist doesn't cause the solemnness you see in his expression. the source of that pain likely occurred long before you met him.

"the fatui?" diluc asks and you immediately regret having internally praised him for recovering so well from his injuries. maybe if he hadn't, you wouldn't have been asked such a dumb question.

"yes, the fatui. that's what i just said," you snap in response and, much to your surprise, diluc lets out a laugh. it's short-lived and it's more of a bark of a laugh rather than a wholehearted chortle, but it causes you to glance over at him, shooting him a glare as you angrily unpack the grocery bags.

"you do not talk to many other people, do you?" diluc asks, causing you to tilt your head in confusion. his eyes gleam with a mirth you've never seen before in them and it serves to do nothing but baffle you.

"neither do you?" you respond and your words come out questioning, rather than the harsh retort you originally hoped for. diluc pointedly looks down at his broken appendages and shrugs his shoulders to move his crutches. you stare at him blankly, unamused by his nonverbal sass.

"fatui presence," diluc quickly redirects the conversation before it can fall in to an awkward silence. "are there any recent events that would lead them to increase their numbers in the city?"

you furrow your brow in thought. "i... i'm not sure. i'm not exactly the best informant. outside of what i see at the newspaper stands, there's not much i can go by."

diluc falls silent, expression mimicking yours. "each time you go into the market, could you purchase a newspaper?"

you stare at him, baffled by his question.

"diluc," you begin slowly, as if he doesn't understand. "those are expensive." printing is not yet widespread to teyvat, with most effort going into the publication of books and kamera photography. spending several hundred mora on the weekly copy of the teyvat times is a luxury that someone like you can't afford. most other farmers you had the (unfortunate) pleasure of knowing are in the same boat, with just enough money to live, yet not enough to indulge in disposable newspaper. however, diluc seems to care little about such things.

"i'll pay for it," he says and you narrow your eyes at him. you don't dare challenge him.

of course this random enemy of the fatui has enough money to pay for newspapers. of course! its only convenient that he can just afford whatever he wants. its infuriating. of course he can pay. he always does. he pays for his dumb expensive grape juice, he always offers to pay the bills, he indulges in everything that you have to work so, so hard for while giving absolutely no indicator as to who exactly diluc is.

hell, you don't even know his last name, but you're sure as hell not about to ask. to ask would show an indicator of wanting to get close and you've already overshared with the redhead enough. you bite back a sigh of frustration as he balances on one leg, setting his crutches to the side and begins to help you unpack the groceries.

diluc is only trying to help, you remind yourself. he wants to make life easier for you because you're helping him. yet, you want to scream and cry at him for it. diluc shouldn't be so diligent and determined all of the time. he should be weak, he should be human, but he's not. he's not human to you, not even close.

he's just this stranger who you help to avoid a guilty conscience. it irks you that he's helping you because you're not helping him out of goodwill. you're only helping him so you don't hate yourself later.

you let out a nearly silent sigh, before resting the palms of your hands on the kitchen counter, splaying your fingers out.

"diluc, go sit down," you state exasperatedly.

you need to rest, you want to say, but your concerns remain unspoken. you're not concerned over him, you tell yourself.

"no," diluc states. you press your lips into a tight line as he turns to put a bag of flour in the pantry. yet, even you are smart enough to know this is a fight you cannot win.

you let him stay, you let him pay, you let him win. it eats away at your autonomy and, even though your brain screams at you to hate him for it, a small part of you is thankful for his assistance and company. you feel the familiar rush of angry tears beginning to well up behind your eyes, yet you swallow the lump in your throat.

you realize now why diluc bothers you so much. you realize why you completely and utterly loathe him. you realize why he's nothing but trouble and how you can't wait for him to finally, finally leave.

you hate diluc because he reminds you of what you truly are: vulnerable.

---

you check the kitchen. nothing. you check the bathroom. nothing. you check the living room. nothing. you check your bedroom. nothing. you check the supply closet. nothing.

which leaves one place left unchecked: diluc's room.

in typical "i'm the owner of this house" fashion, you knock lightly on his ajar door and, without waiting for a response, swing open the door. at this point, diluc is unsurprised and you can see his brow furrow slightly in annoyance as he looks up from his book.

good, you think to yourself, satisfied with his reaction.

"where is eos?" you ask, eyes scanning around the room. you crouch down to glance underneath the bed diluc is resting in.

"what?" diluc asks, confused. "what is eos?"

you stand up straight, staring at diluc with a nearly aghast expression. you take it back. the dumb, well-read redhead isn't smart.

"the dog," you say, as if the information is obvious (and it is!).

"oh," diluc says. "i was unaware it had a name."

"he has a name. it's eos. it's written on his collar and everything," you state, voice growing distant as you look over the room. determining that he very clearly isn't here (thank archons. you don't know what you would've done if your own dog picked diluc over you.), you narrow your eyes at diluc, staring daggers at him.

"do you know where he is or not?" you ask.

"he," diluc begins pointedly, as if trying to rectify for his earlier mistake. "appeared to need to... relieve himself outside, so i let him out when i was up earlier."

you bite back a groan. the weather today was great, which meant your dog surely wasn't coming back any time soon.

"you can't just let him out," you begin exasperatedly, rubbing a hand down the side of your face. "he likes to bother the chicken coop."

"he had to use the bathroom. in case it is not obvious, i am not quite in a condition to walk him out there," diluc states. you flutter your eyes closed in frustration, exhaling deeply.

don't bicker with him, you tell yourself. it's not worth it. you'll just sound like an old married couple.

wait, what? your eyes shoot open at your thoughts and diluc looks taken aback at your sudden wide eyes and startled expression. old married couple? you ask yourself, wondering what the hell your brain was thinking to make that thought pop into your head.

"whatever," you huff, shaking your head slightly to clear the weird thoughts out of your head. "sorry for bothering you. don't let the dog out again. i'm going to go get him."

you turn to leave, but the clearing of diluc's throat has you stopping in your tracks. you turn to look at him, tilting your head questioningly.

"'the dog'?" diluc quotes your words. the corners of his lips twitch up in amusement. "he has a name. it's eos."

diluc laughs at his own joke. it's soft and reserved and beautif-

"yup," you say, unamused, ignoring the way your heart clenches at the way his smile leaves his face. without leaving room for any more conversation, you walk out the room and close the door softly behind you.

idiot, you think to yourself, yet for once, the thought isn't directed at diluc. whatever. no time to dwell. you had a dog to go fish out of the chicken coop before he started barking angrily at the chicken eggs. last time eos had gotten loose in the chicken coop, the chickens were uninjured, but eos' ego was not. they had gifted him with a scratch of their claws, unamused by his barking antics.

you have your dog. you have your farm. you don't need diluc and you certainly don't need the way he nearly giggles at his own little jokes. yet, for some reason, it's all you can think of as you walk to the chicken coop.

"idiot," you mutter to yourself. "should've left him out in the rain."

after all, if you had left him out in the rain twenty-one days ago, you wouldn't be trying to furiously scrub the gentle upward curve of his lips out of your head, nor wishing he reserved such smiles only for you. archons, you are hopeless.

taglist: (please send in an ask to be added or removed to/from the taglist! name in italics means i am unable to tag you!)

@quixoticmirror @fishyfish-y @just-some-stars @karlitaburrito @lotsoffandomstoimagine @zhowongli @yakus-yakult @beanst0ck @nonniechan @justyoureverydayqueer @spice365 @lanicoco-12 @seokflwr @yamssoggyfries @callums-keith @gladly-olus @ferzia @just-some-stars

#genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #diluc #genshin impact #//ataraxia #axia's writing

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roguelioness · 2 years

Text

How did we get here (my god)

Nothing’s changed from the last time she was here. The curtains with their frayed edges are still the same faded blue, and dust motes ride the beams of light that drift in through the windows. The air is stale, but nothing that opening the windows cannot fix.

Weary, Neria drops off her rucksack on the lone bed. The hut is tiny, inconspicuous, battered by time and weather, barely worth more than a passing glance. Even so, it is her sanctuary, her private sanctum, her escape from a world that grows ever more hostile with each passing day. Here she is alone, but that is what she prefers; her heart and head are too weighed down for company. A few hours of rest, and she can be on her way.

Whatever she does, or does not, it will be too little. Too late.

She is always too late, too far behind, stumbling like a child taking its first steps, and now-

Exhaling, she runs a hand down her face, shaking her head to stop the thought. Kneeling in front of the surprisingly unrusted stove, she places twig after twig in the furnace with careful precision. Neria takes a moment to stare at the stacked pyramid with gritty eyes. A flick of her fingers, and the kindling is aflame, the tongues of red-yellow a suitable enough pyre for her deep-seated hopes. She watches as the tinder begins to blaze, then shuts the grate.

A small groan escapes her as she stands. She rests a hand on the small of her back and stretches, coaxing her stiff muscles to let go of their tension. It does not work.

The kettle is on the stove now, steam slowly rising from the spout. She moves to the bed, sits on the edge, and unpacks her rucksack slowly, unwillingly, but she knows she must be sure.

The letter is dirt-stained and creased, the edges wrinkled. There is no seal, no address, no signature, but the script is a familiar one. She smooths it out carefully, and begins to read.

The kettle starts to whistle quietly; pressure is building up.

You must come to Val Royeaux, immediately. The Nightingale might sing no longer.

Neria crumples up the piece of parchment in her fist. The stub of her arm, slotted into the groove of the prosthetic, throbs. She wills the pain away. It does not work. The silverite fingers close to rest against the rune-inscribed palm. She did not ask it to do so.

The kettle starts to shriek, spitting boiling hot steam into the quiet room.

The Divine is dying, and there is nothing she can do about it.

Her friend is dying, and there is nothing she can do about it.

She covers her face with her hand; the letter falls to the ground.

The kettle’s high-pitched whine grows softer, then comes to a halt altogether.

She looks up. Every nerve is on edge. Mana drifts down her arm, ready to be commanded.

He’s standing there, by the door, arms clasped behind his back. Neria flashes to her feet and stares at him. He shifts under her gaze, and is the first to look away. Solas moves towards the rickety old table, measures out two scoops of the blend of herbs she favors in her tea. His back is to her as he pours the water into the cup.

The air fills with the scent of ginger.

“Ir abelas,” he says. He does not look at her.

She knows he means it. “I know you are,” her voice reflects her exhaustion. Fatigue and panic both gnaw at her bones, but she has no energy left to fight.

Solas turns on his heel. His armor is gilded, the design strange and intimidating. The rich red cape flutters as a breeze drifts through the open door. “I had no choice-” he tries to explain, but she cuts him off.

“So you claim.”

The tips of his ears turn pink.

The silence is heavy. It blocks her sinuses and clogs up her throat, and her vision starts to blur-

She turns away from him.

“I am sorry,” he says, again, this time in a whisper, “I truly am,” pleading with her to understand.

“What do you want from me?” she asks, her back still to him. The sky outside, robin’s-egg blue when she first entered, is now turning grey at the horizon, she idly notices. “Do not ask me for forgiveness, because I don't know if I have any left to give you.”

“I know,” he replies simply.

“Why are you here, then?” she asks warily, turning to face him. “What are you sorry for?”

He takes a step into the hut, instantly filling it with the force of his presence.

“I am sorry,” he says, and suddenly she feels herself being dragged across the anvil of dread, “because I must ask you to finish your tea.”

Ah. She understands.

How will I put honey in Leliana’s wine without being seen? A young lad had asked, worry in his eyes.

The man before her, jaw taut, face blank, eyes like polished steel - he has found the answer.

"And if I refuse?"

"I cannot let you go to Val Royeaux," his face is still calm and unruffled. His gaze, so infuriatingly even, gives nothing away.

She crosses her arms. Raises her chin defiantly. That he knows of this place means she has been thoroughly betrayed. It is all the more vital that she travels to the Grand Cathedral. "You have no say in that."

His lips pull up into a smile. It is vulpine at the corners, it shows hints of too-long canines. It is not only fear that slides down her spine. "Drink your tea, vhenan."

#solas #lavellan #solavellan #solas x lavellan #solas x neria #post trespasser #dragon age drabbles #roguelioness writes

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 24

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

June 1999

The air smells wet and woody, birdsongs trilling in the early morning sun that trickles through a sky light. She stretches, then disentangles her legs from the sheets and stands, walking to the window.

There is a giant soaking tub in the corner of the room, flanked by two windowed walls that afford a sweeping view of the Cascade mountains, green carpeted hillsides meeting with a baby-blue sky.

She can still recall her mother’s face when they told her the wedding would be in Washington State. “But...we don’t even know anyone in Washington, Dana,” she’d said with a bemused expression, lamenting the length of their flights with a nine-month-old in tow.

Her mother’s reaction paled in comparison to Mulder’s excitement when she’d suggested the idea; she would spend their honeymoon relaxing with a book in the tub, and he could spend it traipsing through the woods looking for Sasquatch, or ‘squatchin’ as he called it. They would reunite in the afternoon, hiking, making love, catching up on all the conversations they’d missed while in the trenches of parenting a new baby. Mom would stay at the same resort with Molly so they could see her every day, while having precious nights to themselves; something they haven’t done since she was born.

She turns the tap on the bath, a blast of water thundering into the empty basin. When it’s full nearly to the brim, she disrobes and eases in, breathing deeply to inhale the juniper-scented steam, courtesy of the resort-provided bath salts. Closing her eyes, she thinks back over it all; their chance meeting, how she was drawn to him by a force that seemed to be bigger than them both, the anguish of wanting him but feeling like she owed it to Ethan to stay together. Her eyes snap open, a memory long-buried in the recesses of her mind springing forth like a trebuchet.

The day she met Mulder, she’d been planning to take the day off to go to a book signing for an author she admires. The signing was cancelled due to a scheduling conflict and she almost took the day off anyway, but had a last minute pang of guilt knowing that the workload that week was already heavy and Trudy would struggle to manage it all on her own. So she’d gone in, she’d performed that autopsy that should have been on Trudy’s docket, and she’d filled out the paperwork, and she’d met Mulder. How delicate the balance of the universe that such an insignificant choice completely changed the course of her life.

She suddenly misses him acutely, and a bundle of nerves and excitement flutters in her belly thinking about when she’ll see him next. She’d scoffed at the idea of them spending last night apart; they live together and have a child so the performative chastity seemed to be a bit much. He said it was like a fast, that a little time apart would make it even more special when they saw each other at the ceremony, and she ultimately acquiesced.

“Meet me on a mountain top at 4 o’clock tomorrow?” he’d asked as he backed out of her room, pulling away from the desperate kisses she was planting all over his face.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied with a smile, and they said goodnight.

She smiles again, sinking down until the water slips into her ears. She can’t wait to marry him.

———

He sits up and arches his back, his spine protesting the cramped accommodations. Looking over at Byers and Missy curled up in the king size bed, he regrets his decision to crash on the couch here instead of staying with Scully in their room. Not only because he slept like shit with his legs hanging over the end, but also because work takes him away from his girls so often, he’s an idiot to add another day to it if he doesn’t have to.

He stands, hands on his hips as he twists to stretch his angry muscles, and walks to the window, taking in the dense green hills and valleys that surround them. He smiles, because she could have asked to go to Mexico, or France, or anywhere on the entire Earth and he would have given her what she wanted, but she chose the place she knew he wanted to go. Selfless and giving to a fault, his Scully. Soon to be his wife.

He quietly slips on his running shoes and sneaks out of the room, hitting the hard-packed dirt trail the concierge had told him about. The quiet forest is the perfect place to be alone with his thoughts, nothing but the thud of his feet striking the ground and the twitter of waking birds to distract him. He thinks about his life, about being a child who was lonely and alone, with parents who provided food and shelter but not much more. He thinks about Molly, and how she will never know that kind of pain, that there will never be a day of her life that she is not told how much she is loved. He wonders if his dad ever felt about his mom the way he feels about Scully, and he knows it’s not possible that he did, because if so they would still be together.

He comes to a break in the trees and pauses, breath heaving and lungs burning as he watches a hawk gliding through the valley below, hunting for breakfast. How easily he could have missed this moment, he thinks. Even one small change to the trajectory of his life, and he never would have walked into the autopsy bay that day. If the courier hadn’t been sick, if he hadn’t stopped by Kirkbride’s office when he did. Even further back, if he hadn’t stayed with the bureau with the X files were closed, if Valerie hadn’t been there to encourage him, or if he hadn’t met Valerie one random Tuesday at a record store. The path was long and winding, and it led to her. It led to him on this mountaintop in a sweat-soaked T-shirt, smiling at the thought of his baby daughter, his almost-wife.

He picks up running again, the smile staying on his lips. He’s always felt like he was running away; from his painful past, his regrets, his bad decisions. Now he realizes he’s running towards; his future, a thousand opportunities yet unseen, a kind of happiness he never thought he’d know. He can’t wait for the rest of his life to start.

———

He stands in a clearing near the edge of a cliff, the lush green landscape toeing up against the horizon looking like crooked teeth. Frohike stands beside him in khaki pants and a white linen shirt, a leather folio clasped in his hands. Mulder is also dressed fairly casually, in slacks and a blue Oxford shirt, the sleeves cuffed and the top button undone.

Scully wanted this to be as non-traditional as possible, to make it their own. There is no wedding party, no tuxedo, no flower girl or garter toss. No one will walk her down the aisle, as no one but herself has the ownership to give her away. The guests are small in number; immediate family only, plus the gunmen. Monica and Dahlia are house-sitting back in DC, minding Priscilla as well as the dog, King, that joined the family after the purchase of their house in March. Bucking the idea of arranging guests by whose “side” they are on, they all sit in a small cluster, and Scully will enter from the side.

He looks out and waves at Molly, who is standing on Missy’s lap, holding her hands and bouncing up and down forcefully. She squeals and shouts “dah, dah, dah!” which he chooses to interpret as “Daddy” even though Scully told him it’s just a nonsense syllable and doesn’t mean anything.

Langly gets the signal from Frohike and hits play on a small boom box, piping an instrumental version of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” up into the branches of the towering evergreen trees. He expected to feel nervous at this moment, but all he feels is excitement as Maggie scurries out from behind a line of trees and takes her place beside Bill, giving him a smile and a wink.

Scully appears from around the same group of trees and he grins broadly. He’s seen the dress, they picked it out together, but the full effect is stunning. Her hair, now grown well past her shoulder blades, is curled softly and pinned half up, brilliant red tendrils shimmering in the midday sun against her porcelain shoulders. Her dress is full length pearl satin, a slim sheath cut with off the shoulder straps. She is holding a small bouquet of pink peonies in her hands, and holding his eye with a playful smirk.

She arrives beside him and before the music stops, before Frohike has a chance to begin, he steps forward and takes her by the waist, kissing her fully. The guests laugh and he pulls away to see a confused smile on her face.

“I couldn’t wait,” he says simply.

They move through the ceremony, exchanging rings and vowing to love each other forever; promises they’ve already made to each other a hundred times. As they near the part that Scully understands to be the end, Frohike goes off script.

“Mulder has prepared some words of his own, he’ll read them now,” he says, nodding toward his friend.

Scully’s eyebrows lift in a surprised and confused expression.

“Mulder, we didn’t talk about writing our own vows,” she whispers, afraid she’s failed to complete the assignment.

“It’s okay, these are for both of us,” he whispers, and then, taking her hands in his, he reads a passage from her favorite book from memory.

“I have for the first time found what I can truly love; I have found you. You are my sympathy, my better self, my good angel; I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely. A fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my center and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.”

The tear that slips down her cheek is borne only of happiness. She looks into his green eyes and sees contentment and love, and desire. It’s not a spark, what they have, nor an ember. It’s a wildfire, a white-hot torch, an eternal flame that binds them together inseparably. They were forged in fire the moment he laid eyes on her in that autopsy bay, maybe even before.

Frohike concludes, “by the power invested in me by the State of Washington, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride…again.”

He wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her up as he kisses her deeply, a gust of warm summer wind picking up pine needles and tossing them in a mini-tornado that surrounds them both. Molly squeals “dah dah dah!” and claps for her parents.

———

She stands at the mirror, brushing her teeth. Her hair is combed out, her makeup removed, the white dress hanging in the corner of the room with the hem now tinged brown from the dirt that served as their dance floor.

Mulder appears behind her, an arm snaking around the waist of her satin nightgown. She smiles at the sight of his newly ring-adorned hand pressed flat against her belly, then leans forward to rinse.

“Ready for bed?” he asks softly, and she nods.

They slip beneath the cool sheets, curling around one another face-to-face; her leg threaded between his, his arms around her back, foreheads touching. She draws in a big breath and lets it out slowly, contentment settling deep in her bones.

“Do you ever think about all the things that had to happen in exactly the way they did to lead us here?” he asks, and she pulls back a little to look at his face.

“Yes, I was actually just thinking about that earlier,” she says with a curious lilt.

“Makes you wonder, huh, what lives we’d be leading if even just one detail were changed,” he says, tracing his finger along her shoulder blade.

“I don’t think it would have mattered, actually,” she says, and he gives her a quizzical look, silently asking her to elaborate. “I know this will sound a little far-fetched coming from me,” she begins with a self-conscious smile, “but I think it was always going to end up this way. Even if we hadn’t met when we did, we would have crossed paths some other way. Looking back over everything, it just seems like this was meant to be the outcome, even if the path to get here could have gone in a lot of different directions.”

He ponders this, remembering a conversation they had over coffee when, against all odds, she reappeared in his life.

“Like there was only one choice, and signs along the way to pay attention to,” he says contemplatively, lifting his hand to brush a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Exactly,” she replies, pressing her lips to his briefly, “it was always going to be you.”

END

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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victoriaholmeswriting · 3 years

Text

Camping Trip

Danny Tanner x Reader One-Shot

Read it on AO3!

Rating: E

Words: 1891

Summary: Danny Tanner and his girlfriend go on a camping trip to enjoy finally have some time alone.

A/N: I've noticed a serious lack of Danny Tanner citric acid and needed to fix that because that man fucks and no one can change my mind!

“How did I let you talk me into this?” Danny questioned, scrutinizing everything around him. “There’s dirt everywhere!”

Bunching up kindling for the firepit, (y/n) rolled her eyes at her neat-freak boyfriend. “It’s called nature, my dear. Dirt is a major portion of the package deal.”

He groaned, but didn’t argue as he pulled a small hand-broom and dust pan from his duffle bag and began sweeping trace amounts of debris from inside the tent they’d just set up. Well, to be fair, she did most of the work because he was too busy trying not to get mud on his jeans -- that he had ironed...for some reason.

She paused, sticks in one hand and lighter in the other, staring at him in utter disbelief. Obviously, she knew this weekend camping trip would be difficult for him. But this was getting ridiculous.

“Tanner, what the hell are you doing?” she demanded, watching him empty the dustpan behind a tree at the edge of the campsite.

He shrugged. “Just cleaning up,” he said like he was merely clearing the table after dinner.

Chuckling to herself, she finished building up the sticks in the pit before lighting the fire with enchanting ease.

Danny watched the flames dance and grow in her eyes as she expertly built up the fire. When she sat back on her heels to examine her work, he immediately noticed the dirt on her hands and knees. He didn’t know what he was more shocked by: the fact that she didn’t seem concerned that those jeans were almost certainly ruined...or that he was kind of turned on.

Was it really surprising, though? The whole point of coming out here was so that they could finally get some time alone. His house was always so busy and her roommate worked from home and always had friends over, making it impossible to find any sort of privacy. Hell, the only times they even got to make out without the threat of being barged in on or prying eyes was in their cars after dates. And even then, they were both too tall for anything more. Not that either of them wanted their first time having sex together to be in a car anyways. They wanted it to be far more special. (Quickies and throwing out roommates could come later.)

After more than eight months, the lack of intimacy was starting to take a toll on their relationship. It was clear that they needed a weekend away, just the two of them. Though, he still had absolutely no idea how he’d let her talk him into camping instead of the nice beach getaway he had all planned out.

As he pondered over this, she looked up, catching his eye and giving him that smile that’d first caught his attention at the Smash Club. His heart jumped -- and so did his cock. He shifted himself subtly, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

(Y/N) frowned at the discomfort on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said too quickly. His gaze moved to the rock next to his shoe.

He truly was a terrible liar.

“This was a bad idea,” she sighed, deflated. “We should have just gone to the beach.”

His eyes returned to hers.

“No, no!” he reassured her. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her feelings. “No, I’m just adjusting to the scenery. That’s all! I’m sorry for being a bit of a downer.”

She smiled at him again. “You are not a downer, Danny Tanner.”

He smiled back as she stood up, dusted her hands off on her pants, and walked over to him.

The feeling of her arms slowly draping around his neck sent shockwaves through his body. His hands instinctively found her waist as she pulled him into a passionate kiss. He moaned as her fingers tangled in his hair and her tongue pushed its way into his mouth. He couldn’t help it -- he loved it when she took control of him like this.

A grin dominated her features when she pulled back after several moments, panting. She took in his flushed complexion, the sound of his lungs catching up, and the lust in his eyes.

He was right where she wanted him.

She pulled him in for a more demanding, passionate kiss.

Their tongues exploring each other once again, his hands moved to her ass. He gripped it tightly, reveling in the feel of it and the quiet groan he elicited from her. Their bodies melted together like they never had been able to before. They fit together so perfectly. And both of them knew it.

(Y/N) couldn’t control the returning grin when she felt his hard cock pressed against her. She bit her lip as he trailed wet kisses down her neck.

“Danny,” she said between stifled moans, “maybe we should move this to the tent?”

He didn’t say a word, opting instead to grab her hand and lead her to the tent she’d practically stuffed with blankets and pillows. Perfectly planned out to make sure they were as comfortable as possible all night long -- no matter what activity or position they found themselves in.

Plus, let’s be honest, Danny Tanner wasn’t exactly the “‘roughin’-it” type anyways. She had to promise to make it as comfortable as possible to get him to come out here in the first place. And, boy, did she use that to her advantage.

The layers of comfort cushioned their knees as they knelt down in the tent, facing each other.

Danny captured her lips for a brief moment before leaning over to zip up the tent behind them. Or, he tried to at least.

The tall, lanky man struggled to keep his balance as he fumbled with the zipper. He yanked at it repeatedly to no avail. Frustrated, he growled, “Dammit!”

Shaking her head and laughing, she nudged his hands out of the way.

“Stop before you break my tent,” she said. She pulled the zipper up a few inches, held the flaps tightly together at the bottom, and zipped it closed in one smooth motion. Smirking, she turned back to him, one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, I was going to try that next,” he bluffed, earning another big laugh from her.

“Sure you were,” she retorted, a massive grin adorning her gorgeous face.

God, he loved that smile! It was positively intoxicating to every single one of his senses. He had to taste it.

Tentatively, he brushed her hair behind her ear and leaned back in to kiss her, feeling her body press against his again. She melted in his embrace, kissing him back with a fiery passion. Their tongues tangled together as (y/n) once again started to take control.

Danny reveled in her dominance, his cock hard and making its presence well known between them. Taking hold of the hem of his shirt, she removed it -- slowly -- trailing her pinky fingers up his sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Pulling off her own shirt, she moved his hands to her breasts. A deep blush spread across his whole torso as he squeezed them. How did he not notice she wasn’t wearing a bra before? Had he really been so preoccupied with the state of nature around their campsite? So pointless. All those months they’d been unable to properly enjoy each other and show each other affection -- and he’d wasted the first hour of their getaway fussing over dirt and leaves.

Well, he’d just have to make up for it.

His soft thumbs playing with her nipples, Danny slowly made his way across her cheek and down her neck to her right breast. He took it in his mouth, moving his tongue in narrowing circles, culminating on her nipple. The hummed moans he garnered spurred him on -- which, of course, he repeated with the left one.

(Y/N)’s underwear became uncomfortably wet. She couldn’t stand it any longer.

She seized his face by the jaw, bringing it back to hers and thrusting her tongue into his mouth just before they connected. Her hands quickly worked open his jeans and slid them down his thighs. A shiver ran down his spine as his cock met the chilling dusk air.

Danny carefully laid her down, lips never separating. Wasting no time, he removed his pants completely and hovered his hand over the waistband of her pants, waiting for permission. She nodded and soon felt his warm skin on her inner thighs.

(Y/N) ran her hand over his chest as they took each other in.

Her heart skipped a beat as she realized the one thing she’d forgotten to pack.

“Shit,” she swore, dropping her head back on the pillows in frustration.

“What?” he asked, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

She growled. “I forgot to pack condoms.”

“Oh,” he chucked, “I’ve got it covered.” He reached into the front pocket of the backpack that was in the corner behind her head.

She watched in astonishment as he pulled out three boxes of condoms.

“Fuck, Danny!” (y/n) exclaimed. “We’re going to be out here for two nights. How many of those do you expect to use?!”

The lust in his eyes blazed. “It’s been eight months, (y/n). I plan to run out.”

She laughed as he dipped back down to her neck, handing her one of the boxes, dropping the others beside them. Her hands pulled open the box and wrapper.

(Y/N) grasped the back of his head with one hand, fingers carding his hair and locking him to her lips before moving both hands down to expertly roll it over his cock and began stroking him -- slowly.

Gasps and moans vibrated against her throat for a few moments before he couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled her hand away, lacing their fingers together by her head.

Making his way back to her lips, he dipped his long fingers between her folds, assessing how prepared she was. She was positively dripping.

Those soft fingers gently pushed into her, instantly finding that perfect spot. Nails dug into his skin in response, pairing perfectly with unrestrained moans that made his cock weep with precum.

She dragged her nails down his back to his ass, grasping it tightly and pulling him closer so his groin met hers.

“Tanner,” (y/n) gasped. “I need more! Fuck. Me. NOW!”

A deep sound she’d never heard from him before emanated from somewhere deep in his chest at the command. Before she could blink, he was fully inside her, giving her a couple seconds to adjust. When he was sure she was ready, he started thrusting. Slow at first, but picking up pace with each one. His moans were almost as loud as hers. Her nails clawed at his back, losing herself in every ounce of the ecstasy he was drilling into her. She couldn’t hold on for much longer….

Their names mingled together in harmony until his thrusts lost their rhythm and spasm ran from her core out through her limbs.

When they came down from their highs, Danny laid beside her and pulled her to nuzzle into his chest.

“You know,” (y/n) said, still catching her breath, “I don’t think you brought enough.”

Danny chuckled, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next trip.”

~~~

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