#i really earnestly almost cried | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

suguru-getos · 1 year ago

Text

୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 24﹕✦﹕┈・୧

-> Event Masterlist

Geto Suguru x F!Reader -> Size Kink

Summary: After returning from your trip, you found out your boyfriend is not okay. Maybe a vacation (To Venice) ;) would help. (Mentions of Deppressed!Suguru, angst, breakdowns, toothrotting fluff and comfort, Satoru being a wonderful best friend, Suguru healing) ❤️‍🩹 Basically hurt-comfort with size!kink 😭

Warnings: Angst, breakdowns, Suguru’s deranged and suc!dal and has murderUrges, Reader (us) comfort him and pull him out from it. Mentions of reader’s breakdowns, cus I mean— 🤷🏻‍♀️ Look at him!!?? Nipple-play, breeding, softsex, sensual, FLUFFY AND NICE AND SUGURU’s so Spoiling towards us it’s just 🙈

A/N: Guys I had sm fun 🥹😵‍💫🩵 writing this I swear!! Hurt-comfort is like my favorite thing in the whole wide world <33 I love to characterize Suguru & to play around with his character. *Screeches and screams* 🍨🍦 I made him yummy thank me later xx Also can we look at the images of him above 🥵 size kink BRRRR

"If you really think, you can do everything, take everything in, save people, and somehow save yourself along with the deceitful thinking that you will protect me. Then you're wrong!" Tears welled up in your eyes, the pain clearly imminent in Suguru's eyes. He looked dead inside, and no mourning was soothing your ache for your older Suguru. You just, missed him beyond beliefs… even when he was right beside you. You hoped he would response to your cry of pain, your bleeding words, but he didn't have it in him anymore. Suguru had almost, given up on himself.

Your hands found themselves clasping onto his collar, pulling him closer to you. "Suguru, look at me, I am telling you something. Can't you fucking see how much it hurts!" You screamed, losing your calm, your temper. It felt ironical to complain to him about how much it's hurting you. You can see he's got it worse; the nights full of terrors and the days full of decaying cursed spirits. You were an empath for your lover, and it was clear staying near him was subjecting you to everything he felt. He doesn't want to see you this way, desperate and hurting…

"I'm sorry, Angel." Suguru sighed, wrecked with the way you burst into tears and hugged him. Voice choking onto sobs as you earnestly tried clutching onto him for dear life. "Sugu, come back to me please come back…" You cried, wailed and eventually dropped onto your knees. The incomprehensible feeling, the heaviness of the things Suguru was going through was making you breathless.

Suguru's heart was only breaking further apart, watching you slowly scrape away in front of him. "I want to kill myself." He finally spoke up, "No, truth is, I want to kill everyone."

This was the first time Suguru was opening up, and no matter how brutal it sounded, his eyes were still kind. Maybe because it was you, in front of him. "You are a sorcerer, too, I shouldn't say this to you, but I hate those monkeys." He radiates pessimism and negativity through him. Yet, you smile a little.

"Come with me, go away with me." You held his hands, squeezing them tightly as if you were grateful they're not cold. You truly were. They were warm, they were still your Suguru's hands.

"Please, Suguru, let's go away for some time." You urged, and he knelt with you, hugging you tightly, not caring about the whimper that escapes you because of his firm grip.

"Running away, won't solve anything." He echoed, and you felt your stomach sink. Soft sniffles echoing in the room as you shook your head like a tantrum-y child. "No, we will solve everything. You and I, we can solve everything. No matter what it is." You cupped his face, becoming stronger for him. "It's okay to feel like this Suguru, it's okay. I'm here." You nudge, watching his eyes showing signs of at least, some life in them. "Can you, not give up?" You meant on himself, you meant on everything.

To make sure, he understands… you hummed again, "makes me feel like, I'm being abandoned."

Suguru blinked at that, letting your words settle deep within. "Makes me feel like, I'm not even worth fighting for." You looked down, not having the guts to say this to him while making eye-contact. "Please, let's elope somewhere Sugu." You crooned, babying him almost. "I will follow you to the ends of the earth anyway, even if your path is changed." You hum, and with the way your pupils fixated on your hands intertwined, Suguru knows you mean it.

"Okay, maybe… I do need a little get away." Suguru smiled tenderly, partial charm returning to his eyes.

Oh it felt like rain in famine, "Good, thank you, I love you."

"I love you too, my Angel."

---

The next thing was you booking tickets to go to Europe. You urged Satoru and Yaga to not assign any more missions for Suguru. It was hard, you and Suguru were both powerful special grade sorcerers; but hey- you both had Satoru to rely on. "I told you the moment he lost weight, he wasn't doing okay." Satoru scoffed, rolling his eyes, tapping at his feet impatiently in the café you decided to meet him in. "What the fuck is up with being the one to hide things?" Satoru was pissed, why would his best friend not communicate? "Makes him feel less of a man?" You chuckle at that, you knew Satoru loved him almost as much as you did. "I've persuaded him to go on a trip with me." "You did?" Satoru was… amazed. These days, Suguru wasn't even joining in for any normal outings. Wasn't going out of his house for weeks, wasn't even meeting you. Things worsened when you left to Korea for a mission longer than 3 weeks. You had to stay there for some Jujutsu School Collaboration initiative. That's when Suguru was off his leash, truly at his worst. Taking missions more than he should, succumbing to the darkness of his mind and the curses.

"Just, want you to handle things while we're gone." You sipped onto the iced frappe you've ordered. Meanwhile Satoru ate a mochi, seemingly absent-minded and bored. "You don't have to worry about that, you know I'd do that in a heartbeat for him." He bratted, raising a brow at you. "And you…"

You smiled at that, nodding gently. It felt good to have the 'Strongest' so whipped for your boyfriend, and platonically you, as well.

The higher-ups posed a threat, as always. 'Why is Suguru Geto not on missions?' ; 'Did he get off the job of a Sorcerer?' especially the cunt-faced Principal of Kyoto. You and Satoru personally paid him a disrespectful visit at his school. Nothing he can complain against, wouldn't sit well to anger two special grades, will it? Despite showing that the Sorcerer world is only filled with people who are willing to take on the role- example: Nanami switching from corporate jobs to a sorcerer job… it was still, at the end, a disgusting, foul powerplay hidden beneath shackles of rules. If you are a special grade sorcerer, they'd do anything to hold on to you. Even blackmails are not far off the list. Emotionally draining…

---

"I have booked us a flight to Venice, baby." You sat cross legged on the swing chair Suguru's house has, fondling with your iPad and searching for hotel venues. "Venice huh." Suguru was still numbed, but at least, not he couldn't avoid you because practically you lived with him now. "Yeah, we can go to Switzerland, and also wherever you want. I hear Germany this time of the year is beautiful." You croaked excitedly, swaying your legs as he walked towards you, sitting on the chair in front of you. "Satoru told me you and I are on a vacation for months." He came directly on the point. "The trip isn't that long, is it?" He manspreaded, raising a brow.

You gulped, smiling softly, the last thing you need is him feeling 'weak'. You had to approach this carefully. "Suguru, I think you and I have done enough missions for a while. I want us to spend some time together, to ourselves." You added some degree of truth, "Also, I don't want you to keep eating curses and letting them eat you from the inside and I don't want to lose the person I love the most in my fucking life." With the way you affirmatively snapped, there was no way, Suguru would battle against it. A soft nod was all you got as a response.

"Alright, I will handle the packing. Don't want you screeching like a wild animal when you discover you forgot your charger." He leaned in, giving you a chaste peck & you giggled. "Of course."

---

The packing, the preparations, the dressing up and going to the Airport, the flight where you slept leaned against his shoulder. All went by in a tender haze of beautiful memories. Inflicted and infected by his sadness, still. Though you wouldn't mind. You're ready to accept him rotten if needed.

When you two reached Venice, the Victorian style hotel with the boats and the beautiful lakes was in fact, refreshing for him; and you. You knew it because Suguru had stopped going to your shared balcony of the house, now here he was, standing there, observing the people. The couples giggling and kissing each other, the boat rowers singing in their native Italian language, the streets with so much hustle and bustle… yet calming. You hugged him from behind, breathing in his scent. "Like it?" "Love it, my beautiful baby." He crooned back, turning towards you and pulling you closer to him by your hips. "I love you." He chanted, almost in a way that he used to when he first asked you out. These past few months were hard and rough, but if you were able to have him back, even infinitely slowly… you'd dedicate it to eradicating all his sadness.

"If you want, I can dress very Lana Del Rey today and we could make steamy love." You giggled, leaning in and kissing him softly. Suguru and you… yeah, haven't made love in a while. You'd never push him when he isn't feeling it, and naturally, someone who's suffering so much would have it at the last thing on his mind.

"You're right, how disappointing of me… I don't remember the last time I treated you, I worshipped you." He thought out loud, and you pouted. "It's okay Suguru, don't think about it like that. Think about how you're gonna make it up to me." You stuck your tongue out, giggling.

It's the way he looks at you, like he's starving and you're delectable. It's the way his eyes are loud enough with their projection of love that it quiets the world down for you. It's the way Suguru Geto breathes, that makes you love him so much you'd break.

Right now, he's doing the same thing�� being himself. Hands wandering to your sides and helping you wrap your legs around his waist as he walked towards the shared bedroom of the hotel. Leaning in and kissing you passionately, shoving his tongue just to show how much he's been deeply yearning. Admiration coated in every action. "So lucked out that I have you." He smiled to himself, kissing your forehead deeply once you were nestled into the succumbing softness of the mattress.

"Same," you grin back, watching him undress you with his eyes first, and then his hands followed. You mimicked the same movements.

"I can't handle the fucking hotness!" You whined, once he was left in his pants, upper body naked for you to devour. Suguru chuckled, heat rushing through his cheeks and core as he cupped your face, kissing you once again.

The thing about you and him is, Suguru is big. He's built like a bulky man. Stretched to 6'3'', broad shoulders that'd hold two of you, hands big enough you miss almost an inch if you were to compare his with yours. Yeah, Suguru was big and you were tiny. Something that only aided to you being subbier and smaller to him. Letting him manhandle and take all the control that he wants to.

"Who do you belong to, darling?" He cooed, watching you instantly answer. "You, forever and always."

It warms his heart when he hears that, spreading your damp pussy lips with his fingers and thrusting a finger into you. It's been… long. He knows it with the way you're clamping for dear life, just on his digit. "Sh-i-t," You croak out, while Suguru hushed you with a soft kiss, slowly moving his finger in and out of your pussy. Once he felt you had accepted his finger's girth, he inserted another one. "AH god-" You whined, mewling at the delicious stretch of his thick and long fingers being coated with your essence. "You want to make sweet love and you're so worked up with the fingers alone." He chuckled to himself, stretching you out so good, curling them against the familiar sensitive spot.

Your back arched, the way your pussy clamped as if she was a slave to his hands and cock.

"Oh she's close." He cooed, "Go on, cum for me then I can ruin you with me." He kissed your pelvis, holding it down as your orgasm raked through you, approaching fiercely and shuddering your body against him as waves of pleasure took over you. "Good girl. Good little girl." Suguru praised, riding it out for you. Once the orgasm's high settled, Suguru took out his fingers and suckled onto them, eyes never leaving yours.

"Want you, so bad!" You gasped out, pulling him closer to you by wrapping your legs around him, feeling the imprint of his cock into you. "Alright alright, impatient little girl." He smirks, pushing the tip of his pre-leaking cock into you in one swift stroke. Mean, Suguru Geto is mean sometimes… especially when he wants you to be scream at the stretch only he can give you. No one else, he wants your pussy to know only how he feels. Damn he's big, and when he pushes himself balls deep, your pussy is strained beyond its limit. "Shit- s- so big Sugu." You whimper out, tearing up at the ache.

"Ssh, it's okay darling. I'm still. Adjust to me, go on." Suguru patiently waits, kissing your face all over, leaning in and kissing your breasts, suckling onto your nipples while you clamped and waited for the pain to settle in.

"Move, please…" You glance at him now, doe-eyed and insatiable.

"Of course, took you some time to adjust to me huh? Tiny little baby." He smiles, thrusting into you without relent. Your womb stops him from going in any further, your insides torn apart deliciously at the feeling of being ploughed by him. "Oh- G- oh God," words fail you, the air choked out of your lungs with how good it hurts, with how pleasureful it feels.

Suguru's hand laced around your pelvis, pressing on it gently. "Got you," He smirks cockily, holding your hand and keeping it on your pelvis, enveloped by his own as he pressed.

A shrill scream filled the room, "Oh you can sense it, can't you sweetheart? Sense how deep I reach?" You moan at the pressure, pushing you closer and closer to the edge as you hopelessly nodded. Gasping and choking on air. "God yes, Sugu- AH please- oh my- g'nna," You whimpered, while Suguru was at a rhythmic pace now. Sometimes pulling all the way out and pushing back all the way in. He loved seeing you walk the rope between pleasure and pain.

"Good girl, with the way you're holding onto me, I can sense you're close." Suguru hummed, grounding you with his kisses, his spoiled little praises.

"Go on, show me how much you missed me."

"Just like (thrust) I (thrust) missed (thrust) this (thrust) pussy-" Suguru toppled off the edge right with you, painting your insides white with his warmth. "Oh god- fuck-"

You shudder, spasming around his cock and milking him further.

"That's it, I got you. I got you." Suguru reminded, leaning in and kissing you softly, tenderly, as if you'd break if he were to touch you wrong.

"I missed you, I missed this." He mused to himself, blushing a little at the sight of you fucked out and half-lidded. You nodded, still taking ragged breaths. "I love you"

"I love you too, Angel."

1K notes · View notes

padfootagain · 6 months ago

Text

Only an Almost (XIII)

Chapter 13: Decisions

Hi! Here comes a new chapter! We are reaching the heights of the angst… next chapter. So, buckle up, we’re up for a wild ride…

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 1982

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

“Andy, honey… can you take a pic from up there? Down the river. Try to centre it on the bridge…”

Andrew followed his mother’s instructions, climbed on the bench by the docks that ran along the Liffey, aimed the camera the best he could, took a couple of pictures.

“Is that alright?” he asked his mother to check the pictures, handing her the camera.

“Perfect! Thank you, honey.”

They resumed their walk down the river, Raine’s camera secured around her neck. He offered his mother his arm, and she took it with a tender smile.

“This is such a lovely afternoon, isn’t it?” she said after a moment of comfortable silence.

The sky was grey but there was no rain in sight. Dublin was busy with life, as it always was. The murmur of cars passing in adjacent streets and boulevards mingled with the cries of a few seagulls who had flew up along the river from the sea. It was early in the afternoon still, right after lunch-hours, and the docks were empty of people, except for the occasional joggers and their loud earphones, the parents and their children, the lovely couples. It wasn’t too warm, nor too windy. There was a sweet scent coming from a nearby bakery.

“Yeah, it is lovely,” Andrew nodded.

“Thanks for coming with me today and helping me with the pictures.”

“I’m expecting some kind of reward for such hard work,” he joked, making his mother laugh wholeheartedly.

“That may be arranged… if you come for lunch on Sunday.”

“Sure, I’ll be there.”

“Jon is coming too, with his partner.”

“Lovely.”

“You can ask Y/N to come, if you want to.”

“Mom…”

Andrew shook his head, growing annoyed already.

“Y/N and I aren’t together. I’ve told you…”

“I know, I know. You have that… casual thing going on. No progress on that then?”

Andrew grew quiet, pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he thought of an answer.

“I don’t know,” he answered earnestly. “I’m fucking lost.”

Raine waited patiently for her son to speak again.

“I… It’s like… I don’t know what she wants. Sometimes it’s just so… nice. Like we’re moving forward, like we’re getting closer to being an actual couple. And the next second she’s cold and just…”

“One step forward, two steps back…”

“Yeah, something like that. Back to square one. I don’t know what to do. I just… I can’t believe she feels nothing at all. There was this one time I talked to a woman in a pub… she was fucking jealous. I stayed over night and it was so… intimate. Really. It wasn’t just casual. And we have so much fun together, like… we really have a lot of moments when we are truly happy. But then, the other day, she just ran off like laying in bed with me for five minutes might kill her.”

He heaved a deep sigh.

“I don’t know. I’m lost. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I should do, and I don’t know what I want either.”

“Don’t you? Know what you want?”

“I mean… I do know. But she doesn’t want that.”

“Have you told her how you feel?”

“No… I don’t think she would react well.”

It was Raine’s turn to heave a sigh.

“If the two of you don’t want the same thing… you can’t stay with her. You’ll get hurt, Andrew. Do you understand?”

“Of course… don’t you think I’ve thought of that?” he fought back, being harsher than he meant.

He felt guilty as soon as the words passed his lips, and so he tightly closed them.

“You need to talk to her,” his mother insisted, ignoring her son’s irritation. “It’s the only way out. Communication is key.”

“I know.”

“But?”

“But if I do, and she rejects me…”

He let his words suspended in mid-air, to hover between them. But Raine soon let out a low chuckle.

“Andy… You can’t have happiness without sorrow; love without pain; satisfaction without risks… it’s never one or the other. It’s always both. If she rejects you, you’ll have to learn how to live with it, the way we all do.”

“I don’t know how to live without her. And I don’t think I want to find out.”

Slowly, she nodded.

“You must really love her,” was her only answer.

His throat tightened, he could feel that he was welling up too.

“Yeah… yeah…”

“I have to admit… I don’t understand her,” Raine went on.

She stopped their walk so they could sit on the bench there, facing the river. It wasn’t the nicest part of the docks, but it was quiet, and someone near was blowing soap bubbles with their daughter. They flew up catching the light of the hidden sun, iridescent and fragile as they rod on the wind. They both looked at the bubbles while they spoke.

“What do you mean?” asked Andrew.

“I mean… I’ve always thought that she felt the same as you did. That one day your lives would finally align, and you’d end up together. Married even.”

“Were you already choosing baby names for us?” Andrew laughed.

“I have a whole list,” she joked, and they both laughed for a moment, despite all the pain held in this conversation. “I don’t know… I thought she loved you.”

“I don’t know… sometimes I have hope. Sometimes she pushes me away so much, I wonder if she doesn’t hate me a little.”

“Hate you?”

“Or is ashamed of me, perhaps.”

“Why would she be ashamed of you? You’re a good man. You truly are a good and kind person. There will never be a day when I am not infinitely proud of who you’ve become.”

“God, mom, stop… that’s enough…” Andrew protested, blushing all the way to the top of his ears and shifting uncomfortably on their bench.

Raine merely smiled fondly at him.

“I don’t know,” Andrew went on. “I don’t understand what she wants.”

“This can’t go on forever.”

Slowly, he nodded. Daphne’s words echoed in his mind.

“You’re right. I need to talk to her.”

“I’m your mother. I’m always right!”

They laughed again, brighter and merrier than before. They remained there for a long while, chatting, the conversation drifting towards the rest of their family, this new recipe for a blueberry pie she wanted to try, this song he was working on.

When he offered to go for tea before going home, Andrew was fully aware of how lucky he was to have her by his side.

The hike was nice, although the weather was unsteady. But then again, it always was in Ireland.

Andrew wanted to wait until you would reach the lake to talk. First Daphne, then his mother… he couldn’t push back that moment any longer.

You had talked about your work while you walked, then about the wedding. It was coming closer, only a couple of months left. Soon, it would be time to try on the dresses and suits, settle on the flavour for the cake.

You were growing a little annoyed though. It was visible that he was only half-listening to you, barely participating in the conversation. Still, you didn’t say a thing, merely pouting and frowning a little. You were adorable, as always…

“Ha, there it is! Let’s take a break!” he offered as you finally reached the shore of the lake.

You plopped down in the grass as an answer, further away from the trail so as not to be disturbed if more people were coming this way. Andrew soon joined you.

“Alright, what snacks for today?” he asked, making you roll your eyes.

“You know you can bring your own snacks…”

“They’re better if I steal them from you!”

You chuckled, handing him some biscuits and some grapes.

“As sweet as you,” he teased, biting in one of the fruits and shooting you a wink that brough fire to your skin.

“Smooth,” you said with irony dripping from your voice.

He laughed, biting on his biscuit instead. His favourites. He wondered if you knew how much he loved them. You often carried these when you hiked together.

There was a long silence, and Andrew was visibly nervous. He had a lot of courage to gather, and a lump in his throat that needed to be swallowed back, so he could finally talk to you.

“Andy? Spit it out.”

He looked up at you.

“Hmm?”

“Whatever it is that got you so worked up… spit it out. You’re killing me.”

He clenched his jaw, set his gaze on the lake. Peaceful. Tiny ripples brought by the wind. Rocks and grass and wildflowers staining its shores. There were some birds over there, on a tiny rock, right on the edge of the water. He wondered what kind of birds they were, all shades of grey and white and black…

“I just… I think we should talk.”

“We have talked,” you fought back, defensive already.

“Y/N…”

“Look, Andy… things are simple. We don’t need to talk about this more. We agreed that this would be casual, just sex, no attach. If you don’t want to do that anymore, we can stop.”

“I don’t want us to stop…”

“What do you want then?”

You.

But if he said it, he knew you would run. He could see it in your eyes now. Somehow, he just knew you would fly away like these birds on the shore of the lake, that you would disappear in the sky, never to be seen again.

“I just want you to answer one question.”

“Go on.”

“What do you want from me?”

You were so taken aback by his question, you were left silent, with lips parted and brows furrowed.

“What… what do you mean?” you stuttered back.

“What do you want from me? This… this is temporary. At one point, we’ll either become more than friends, or go back to being in a friendly zone. Which one will it be?”

You huffed, clearly uncomfortable, shifting your weight.

“I don’t know. How could I know that?”

“I know.”

“And what do you want?”

“I asked first.”

“I asked second.”

“No. No, Y/N. You’re not allowed to turn that around.”

“Why not? Why are you asking this anyway? You’re always… wanting to plan, wanting to make this evolve… why can’t things just remain how they are?”

Because I’m in love with you.

But Andrew couldn’t say that. He settled for what seemed like the next best thing.

“Because I care about you. And because nothing ever stays the same. Things always change.”

He was surprised by your sudden anger. How you got to your feet in a jolt. How you started packing back your snacks.

“Y/N…”

“I don’t fucking know, okay?! What do you want me to tell you, Andy? It was never meant to be more than an arrangement. What else could I say?”

“It means more than that to me.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. He didn’t know what to make of your silence. Because if no words were coming out of your mouth, tears were gathering at the corners of your eyes.

And his heart was beating a thousand miles a minute, but he didn’t back down. He stared, and waited, for an answer that never came.

Instead, you kept on packing. And then you were off to the trail without a word. He followed you, eventually, walking behind you in silence. It started to rain, about halfway down the trail to get back to the carpark. You reached his car in silence, drenched and miserable.

You didn’t speak for a few days, until an olive branch was offered to him, in the shape of an invitation to the cinema.

He ended up in your bed that night, but when it was over and done, he didn’t stay.

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier fanfiction #hozier series #hozier x fem!reader #hozier fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #series

137 notes · View notes

manias-wordcount · 1 year ago

Note

Can I request a Tamaki Suoh x reader?? Reader finds out her parents are getting divorced, and Tamaki finds out. Reader cries while Tamaki offers support and such. Love your account and writing!!

Of Knights and Princesses (Tamaki Suoh x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼!! 𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆!!

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ ��𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

You always loved the Host Club’s garden parties. They reminded you of tea time with your parents back home. But now there is something else lingering on your mind. Something that clouds your sunny day outside. Something that makes all the joy and the laughter around you sound so far away. Something that keeps you from hiding your frown.

“Princess?”

You look up.

It’s just enough time to see your favorite host, Tamaki sliding onto the white garden bench and sitting by your side. You offer up a smile- something light and pleasant and perfectly crafted when you need to keep up appearances. But the blonde right by you doesn’t seem to buy it one bit. No- his frown is too deep and his eyebrows furrow like he’s concerned. The princely aurora he always carries around him is nowhere to be seen. Instead, it’s replaced by something a little more human. A little more quiet and sad and relatable. But most of all, it serves to you as a reminder.

A reminder that things change. A reminder that nothing last forever. Not even princely, perfect boys who never seem to falter. Not even a picture-perfect family that swore to stay together despite every fight. Not even that.

“Tamaki!” You cheer, the same little mask you put on for all your friends and classmates and teachers slipping on in an instant. You lift the teacup from your lap with shaky hands, hoping he wouldn’t notice how the completely full cup almost spills a droplet or two onto your uniform as you place it down on a nearby side table. By the time you fold your hands in your lap and turn back to face him, you have to try very very hard to pretend you didn’t notice how his frown deepens and the concerned look on his face grows ever so slightly. It doesn’t work at all. “It’s nice to see you! I heard you were very busy today so it’s quite a surprise to see you.”

But you keep trying anyways.

For a second he doesn’t speak. He just looks at you- like he’s lost in thought and unable to escape. Just yet at least. It’s unnerving seeing a boy you constantly fawn over showing you his undivided attention in such a foreign way. If it were any other day, you don’t think your heart would have been able to handle such a situation. The moment feels like something you could have only dreamed of. Being alone in a beautiful garden with a handsome boy worrying over you. Showing a side of himself that he keeps away from other girls. All in an effort to address your worries and your fears. Sad eyes without a flirtatious line to follow. Thoughtful silences. And a space between the bench you both share that feels too small. Even if he’s refusing to touch you just yet.

But then he opens his mouth. And he speaks. And he reminds you why this moment would be your greatest dream any other day. But your greatest nightmare as it happens today.

“I’m never too busy to help a princess in need of saving.” He tells you earnestly. Too earnestly. Like he meant every word as his purple eyes brim the type of unspoken understanding you didn’t think you’d ever receive in a place like this. Like if you trusted him- he would really do what he told you he would do. Help you. Save you. Help you. Save you. You take your last breath before the fall. “...also, I heard about your parents.”

But you aren’t even able to pull your gaze away from his fully before you crack.

A tear slips out and rolls against your cheek before you can even take your first breath of new air. The air of acceptance that it’s really happening. That what you’ve been hiding away is about to step out into the light all on its own and sing for the very first time. And as that quiet gasp of yours breaks through, the first tear splashes on top of your hands as they ball into bunched-up fists full of fabric. That first tear is then joined by a little brother, rolling off of your other cheek. And then quickly comes an older sister. And then a mother. And a father. All the aunts and uncles and cousins alike come rushing in as the tears start flowing faster. And soon enough, you’re sobbing into your hands- catching the extended family of tears that flow from your eyes as all you do is cry, cry, cry.

You feel embarrassed. You feel ashamed. You spent your whole life being the perfect daughter in the perfect family. Your parents didn’t have to ever worry about you. You were strong enough to be who you are. You were smart enough to know your lefts from your rights. You were wise enough to know that screaming matches between Mommy and Daddy were best kept as secrets from anyone but yourself and the staff. Yet here you are- blubbering like a little tiny girl. Hating the harsh reality you knew was coming and will now have to face forever. Hating the beautiful moment you share with this boy that will pass by in a second. Because you can’t help but feel it’s tainted by your parent’s changing marital status. Tainted by their lawyers and their drafted contracts over assets and items. Tainted by the talks about what you’d prefer regarding custody. Tainted by your tears. Tainted by a lot of things.

And yet this nightmare?

“There, there…it’s okay…”

It turns into a dream. All because of one simple thing.

“...Cry as much as you need. I’ll keep you safe.”

Him.

“Tamaki…” Your call of his name barely slips out of your throat. All the syllables are shaky as your throat tightens. All the letters quiver as he reaches for your hands and pulls them away from your face. And his entire name spills from your mouth once more as he pulls you into his arms and circles his arms around your waist. Your head falls into his shoulder. His hair tickles your skin. Your arms latch onto his shoulders. You hold him. And you hold him tight. Because all of the walls for protection. All of the masks for privacy. They’re falling off. Tumbling away. And that makes you scared. Of what people will say. Of what people will do. Of what people will know. “W-what if…w-what if someone s-sees you here and-”

“It’s okay, princess.”

You cry harder.

You cry harder into the fabric of his blazer. He smells like flowers. You wonder what type of flowers. You wonder if you smell like tea. But all your wonderings and musings don’t stop the sobs and stuttered apologies that fall out like an endless waterfall. And your sputtered words and salty tears do little to keep Tamaki from squeezing you tighter. Holding you closer. As if the space in the bench between the two of you was too large for him to not conquer. As if the pain in your heart was too much for him to not ignore.

Because you both know that deep down, you truly did need saving. Just for today. Just for a moment. Just for as long as your tears could do nothing but fall. And a little after that too. But luckily…just luckily…

“Let’s just focus on you for a moment, okay?”

There was a certain blonde-haired prince in the garden, ready to play knight in shining armor just for you.

#tamaki suoh x reader #tamaki x reader #ohshc tamaki #ouran tamaki #tamaki suoh #ouran high school host club fanfic #ouran high school host club #ouran highschool host club #ouran highschool host club x reader #ouran highschool host club fanfiction #ohshc x reader #ohshc fanfiction #ohshc fanfic #ohshc #x reader #xreader #fanfic #fanfiction

114 notes · View notes

goodlucktai · 1 year ago

Note

could you write a kid sanji fic like you did with luffy?? like sanji gets whammied with a devil fruit n gets turned back tk his germa years or something??

Sanji wakes up in the infirmary. He lies there for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling. The room is cool and comfortable, a fan blowing gently in the corner and a door wedged open to let in a breeze rich with the salty, briny tang of the sea.

Something about it seems strange. He knows that this is the infirmary, recognizes it somehow, even though it doesn’t look the way it’s supposed to. The last time he was sent to the ship’s medical room, it was barely more than an out-of-the-way broom closet, manned by a grizzly old bear who made it clear he didn’t have time for clumsy trainees and their second-degree burns. There certainly wasn’t room for a proper bed, and if there was, Sanji wouldn’t have been tucked into it so carefully.

Was the wood in The Orbit always this color? he wonders, eyes drifting to stare at the wall nearest his bed. Rich, almost red, each finished plank as smooth as glass.

“Oh,” a voice says, “you’re awake!”

Sanji is very used to strangers. The Orbit is a cruise ship, ferrying hundreds of different customers across the Blues every day. But he’s never seen a person like this before.

It’s a little reindeer, in a pink and blue hat and a fluffy white hoodie with a sheep printed on the front. They hop down from their chair and cross the room to him in an enthusiastic clatter of hooves. Sanji is a runt, according to most of the crewmen on The Orbit and all of his former siblings, but this reindeer is even smaller than him, by almost a foot.

Did they hire a new doctor?

“How are you feeling?” they ask earnestly. “All your labs came back okay and your vitals are strong, but I’m worried you might be coming down with a fever. And I think you were having some bad dreams.”

Sanji blinks, still half-asleep, and decides to humor the little creature. “I feel okay.”

“Good! Let me get you some water and take your temperature again. Then I’ll let the captain in to see you.”

“The captain? Why does he want to see me?” It occurs to him, belatedly, that he might be in trouble. Sanji sits up fast, ignoring the way it makes his head spin, and cries out, “I didn’t mean to!”

The reindeer turns with an insulated water bottle in their tiny hands, brow furrowed beneath their fur. “Didn’t mean to what?”

“I don’t—whatever I did. It was an accident. I can still work.” Don’t send me back. Don’t make me go. He’s frozen with a familiar terror, one he has done his best to outrun but will never outgrow.

He knows it’s silly. He boarded the ship on Cozia and told everyone who asked that he was an orphan. If they decided to go through all the trouble of bringing him home, instead of just kicking him off at the next port, then that would still be leagues away from where Germa Kingdom usually resides in North Blue. They can’t send him back because they don’t know where he’s actually from. No one will ever, ever know. Sanji will never tell.

But he’s afraid anyway.

“You’re not doing anything until I say so,” the reindeer says firmly. “Doctor’s orders! Luffy only wants to see you because he’s worried about you! He’ll say it’s ‘cause he misses your food, but that’s not true. Well, it is true, but it’s not the only thing he misses.”

Sanji isn’t sure he followed all of that, but the reindeer seems pretty certain that the captain isn’t going to storm in here and shout at Sanji or fire him. It’s enough that Sanji is able to release his death-grip on the blanket and accept the water bottle that gets shoved insistently towards him.

Luffy? he wants to ask. The captain of The Orbit is called Chas. And Sanji is only a trainee in the kitchens, hardly allowed to do more than shadow the seasoned chefs. When he does cook, it's for himself, and maybe sometimes the mice that live in the underbelly of the ship. He can’t think of any reason why the captain—or anybody, really—would miss Sanji’s food.

Luffy. The name settles inside of him like the first swallow of warm soup on a blustery winter day. He doesn’t understand it, but he presses his hands to his chest and tries to hold onto it.

When the reindeer is satisfied that Sanji’s sufficiently hydrated and his temperature is normal, they say, “Okay, you wait right here while I go get him. Is there anything you need? Are you hungry?”

Still a little nervous, Sanji shakes his head quickly.

The reindeer makes a dubious “hmmmm” noise like they’re not convinced but they don’t want to argue. They pull the door open the rest of the way and disappear out of it, calling for someone at the top of their lungs.

There’s a lot of noise out there. Sanji tilts his head, trying to listen. He can hear music and laughter. Then he hears the thunder of feet approaching the infirmary at a breakneck pace, and he barely has any time to get scared before a beaming face appears in the doorway.

Oh, that’s Luffy. Sanji knows it’s him right away. He doesn’t know how he knows. It’s the warm soup feeling again.

“SANJI!” the familiar stranger exclaims, bursting inside with wild enthusiasm, like there’s something very wonderful waiting in the medbay somewhere. Sanji is sure there isn’t—it’s just him in here.

But Luffy bounces right onto the bed, sitting cross-legged on top of the soft blankets so that he and Sanji are eye-to-eye.

“Chopper said you woke up! You’ve been asleep for ages. How do you feel?”

“Okay,” Sanji says carefully. Luffy definitely isn’t Captain Chas. So this definitely isn’t the infirmary on The Orbit after all. He must be somewhere else. But how did he get here? And how do they know his name?

“You look okay,” the older boy agrees, leaning in like he’ll be able to tell it’s true just by getting a good look at Sanji’s face. “But there’s no way you’re not hungry! You missed dinner and breakfast and lunch!”

Twisting the blanket in his lap, Sanji says, “I’m really okay.” Judge used to send him away without dinner all the time, for any little thing. It was a punishment Sanji actually preferred, because it was the only one that didn’t leave him bruised or bleeding. Hunger pains are like an old friend to him.

“Nope,” Luffy says suddenly, and leans forward and scoops Sanji right out of the bed. “There’s not a ton of rules on my ship, but the ones we do have are super important. And this rule even belongs to you—no skipping meals, shitheads!”

He adopts a low, slightly husky drawl for that last part, like he’s imitating someone. Sanji is too preoccupied with being picked up, clutching at Luffy’s shoulder and the front of his shirt, to wonder much about that.

“Put me down, please,” he blurts, barely clinging to the manners that were sometimes his only saving grace in Vinsmoke Castle, even though he really wants to flail and shout and kick until he’s dropped or tossed away. Bigger people make him nervous. Bigger people grabbing him makes him nearly black out with fear.

But Luffy just laughs, and it’s a warm, ringing sound. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to listen. And it’s actually not that frightening, after all, being held up by him.

“Can’t,” he declares. “Chopper said you weren’t allowed to get up, which means I have to carry you.”

“The reindeer said you were the captain,” Sanji says suspiciously.

“I am the captain. That means I’m not the doctor, or the shipwright, or the navigator, or the cook. I can’t do any of those things that my nakama can do, that’s why they’re so important. That’s why what Chopper says goes!”

He tosses Sanji up playfully and catches him, the way Sanji has seen guests do with their children sometimes. Luffy’s not big and burly like the deckhands on The Orbit are, but he’s strong. His slim arms feel safe.

Outside, Sanji has to squint through the late afternoon sunlight, lifting a hand to shade his eyes. They’re on the second story of a grand ship deck, coming down the stairs at a brisk clip.

From their seat on a rope swing, the reindeer themself wails, “Luffy! I said he had to stay in bed!”

“Huh? I didn’t hear that part,” Luffy calls back blithely, everything he just told Sanji about listening to his crewmates tossed out on its ear. “We need food! Nami, the fridge!”

“Yes, yes,” a tangerine-haired woman says, sounding put-upon. She folds the paper she’s reading and sets it aside. When her eyes fall on Sanji, she smiles in a way that transforms her whole face. “Hi, there. Iva said you’d be a little confused until the hormones wore off. Do you know me?”

Sanji doesn’t know Iva and he doesn’t know what hormones she’s talking about, but he likes her smile. Everyone on the deck is smiling at him, like they’re happy to see him. He doesn’t understand. No one has been happy to see him since his mom died.

Behind the tangerine-haired woman, there’s a skeleton in a feather boa, strumming absently on a guitar. The bare skull where his face should be is wearing a rictus grin and heart-shaped sunglasses.

It should be a frightening thing to see. Instead, it simply makes everything else make perfect sense.

Oh, Sanji realizes, the worry and confusion in his heart finally settling. This is a dream.

“Guess not,” the woman is saying to a man with a long nose and lots of curly dark hair piled up in a bun, since Sanji never answered her.

“It’s only temporary,” the man replies earnestly, though he sounds a little anxious himself. “We’ll have him back to normal before you know it!”

“We’d better,” a green-haired man says dryly. “If Franky cooks for us again, I may throw myself overboard.”

“Oy! I make boats, not fancy five-course dinners!”

“I can,” Sanji starts to say, forgetting himself. He stops abruptly, covering his mouth with one hand, but it’s too late. Everyone’s already looking at him again. But if it’s a dream, and they’re all dream people, then they won’t mind if he talks out of turn. Testing the waters, he continues carefully, “I can make dinner.”

“You can?” Chopper, the reindeer, asks like it’s some amazing feat. “But you’re so little! You already knew how to cook when you were this little?”

“I’m almost nine,” Sanji says importantly. “That’s practically almost a teenager. That’s almost grown-up.”

“Almost, almost, almost,” a tall woman with a curtain of shimmery black hair murmurs, her voice rich with laughter and openly affectionate.

“Naaamiii,” Luffy whines, unlike Judge or Chas or any other authority figure Sanji has ever met. “Fridge!”

“Well, get a move on then!” she says, turning him by the shoulders and propelling him forward to one of the doors by the stairs. A bunch of the others start to follow, but a sharp look from the green-haired man causes them to stay behind and glare mulishly at him instead.

Even Nami doesn’t linger after unlocking the fridge. She swipes a snack from inside, something in a delicate little crystal dessert cup, then tousles Luffy’s hair playfully, then touches Sanji’s cheek like she’d like to tell him something, but doesn’t know how to make him understand. Then she goes, the galley door swinging shut behind her.

Luffy sits Sanji down on the counter and stands back with his hands on his hips.

“I may not be a cook, but my brothers and I grew up by ourselves most of the time and we didn’t always have someone around to make meals for us,” he declares. “Before Ace went away, he made sure I wouldn’t starve. There’s like three whole things I know how to make really well! So Sanji can tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. What should we cook?”

The name Ace causes a tender pang in Sanji’s chest that he doesn’t understand. It makes him want to check on Luffy and make sure he’s okay, even though he’s standing right in front of Sanji, beaming ear to ear.

He kicks his dangling feet back and forth, glancing around the big kitchen, with its spotless counters and hand-stitched dish towels and the pink apron hanging from one of the cabinet handles. It’s a kitchen that belongs in a home.

He looks back up at Luffy.

“What was your favorite thing to cook with your brothers?”

Barbecued alligator isn’t a viable option for half a dozen reasons, but there’s dark meat chicken in the fridge that will make a neat substitution. Luffy is hapless but enthusiastic. Sanji doesn’t actually trust him with an open flame so once the chicken is seasoned it goes in a big dish to bake in the commercial-sized oven.

The entire kitchen is messy somehow even though they didn’t even use the whole thing. Sanji’s face hurts from smiling.

“I hope you like it,” he says, twisting the dial on a funny tomato-shaped timer. “But you don’t have to eat it if it’s bad.”

Luffy boosts himself up to sit on the counter beside Sanji. Lifting a big bowl of fresh fruits into his lap, he picks out a lychee and begins peeling it with deft fingers.

“Sanji is amazing,” he says plainly. “He’s the best cook in all the Blues and the whole Grand Line. He made a cake so yummy that it stopped a crazy rampage once. I’m really glad he’s mine.”

Reaching over, he takes Sanji’s hand. It’s small and fragile in Luffy’s grasp, and covered in scars, but the young captain doesn’t say anything about any of that.

He puts the peeled lychee in Sanji’s palm, a perfect shining little moon.

“Sanji can’t make anything bad,” Luffy says, utterly certain. “His hands are good.”

It has to be a dream. Most people only get one big miracle in their lives, if they’re lucky, and Sanji had his already—the chance to run to freedom, granted to him by his sister in an uncharacteristic act of kindness he still doesn’t understand.

There’s no way a place like this could really exist, full of people who smile warmly at Sanji and touch him without hurting him, who worry about him when he’s sick and miss him while he’s gone.

Sanji hopes he remembers all of it when he wakes up.

For now he mumbles shyly, “Can we cook together some more?”

‘Together’ ends up meaning together-with-everybody as the rest of the crew refuses to be left out for much longer. Even the green-haired man slinks inside the dining hall eventually. He doesn’t help at all with the tricky lemon blueberry icebox cake that Usopp stubbornly insisted on, but he gamely tastes whatever gets pushed his way. The kitchen becomes even more of a mess than it was before, and there’s flour everywhere and sticky blueberry sauce all over Sanji’s hands, but he hasn’t laughed this much since he was little. Since he could still run off to mom’s room and climb into her big soft bed and curl up with her arms around him, while she told him stories that made the world seem like a smaller, kinder place.

These people don’t make the world seem smaller. They make it seem huge. And Sanji isn’t afraid of it. He doesn’t want to hide. He wants to see the whole thing.

He wants them to be there when he finds All Blue. He thinks maybe he can really, actually find it, if all of them come with him.

(Two nights later, Sanji wakes up overheated and extremely cramped in a bunk not built for two grown men. He bites back a groan at what feels like the remains of a bad hangover and cranes his neck to see who is sprawled out over him like an inconvenient blanket.

Of course it’s his captain, the overgrown kid snoring away with his arms tucked around Sanji’s middle.

Little shit, he thinks, beginning the careful process of extracting himself. He manages to slip out of bed without waking the younger boy up, scowling without real ire at the shameless way Luffy stretches out in his sleep to fully commandeer the whole bunk. Did he have a bad dream? Sanji wonders a second later.

He untangles the blanket and covers his captain with it properly. Lighting a cigarette, a brief flicker of fire in the dark quarters, Sanji lingers just long enough to push a hand through Luffy’s hair.

Whatever happened, it’s nothing a good meal won’t fix.)

#one piece #opfic #black leg sanji #monkey d luffy #nakamaship #my writing #prompt #anonymous #op #yes so this one got away from me #i say to absolutely no one's surprise

136 notes · View notes

pinkmoondoll9shihtzu · 1 month ago

Text

my fullmoon dream ended up being a somewhat dense one in a continuation of my dream timeline

There's this person, who was my friend but it ended badly, a few years ago. And i didnt really understand what happened it was very confusing to me, i didnt really have any power in the situation, it was only this past year i learned of the way all these strings were being pulled behind my back, which helped me understand why that situation occurred, why there was so much resentment directed towards me when i was trying so hard to just exist and keep the friendship simple + lighthearted. Like basically it was just sabotaged which has been kind of hard for me to accept even with finally knowing how it was sabotaged, it was all so unnecessary and i just wish i knew sooner.

over the past 2 or so years ive had a recurring dream scenario where I run into this person. i always write them on here too. Sometimes we apologize to each other, sometimes we dont really speak at all, but theres always this vibe of like, "Things are cool between us now, its Ok." And its a very relieving feeling, in the dreams. its almost exciting, like wow, we can be friends again??! The thing i find most interesting about it is that even though i lost a LOT of friends in the past few years through the same source of sabotage, this is the only person i have these dreams about. I guess we were pretty close for a while but still its interesting no one else comes up in this way.

Anyways. in the dream last night(this morning), it was kind of different... it was really emotional?? usually its never that emotional, usually we dont even say much. but in this dream today, they were crying, they were so earnestly apologetic, talking about how they regret the ways they treated me, and missed being my friend so much. And i cried too because it felt so good to hear it, i apologized for the messy ways i responded to the situation because i didnt get it at the time i thought i was going crazy.. And we were like holy shit we can finally just be friends again.. This is amazing..

as the conversation closed i woke up, i had a moment of being like woahh, that just happened, all the feelings and imagery of it cemented into my conscious mind. THEN, i fell BACK asleep, to the exact same dream!! it just continued. I went and did some other things, i got a job at this weird childrens entertainment center where i was dressed in a panda costume dancing for children. But it was the exact same setting, they were still sitting in the same spot close by, and in the dream i kept having flashes of relief thinking like "omg we're friends again i cant wait to catch up and talk more once im off work"

i feel my body woke me up from that conversation to make sure i really claearly remember that part of the dream before it continued on. I havent had a dream-wakeup-backtosamedream happen in quite a while but i always regard it as an extra significant dream when i do,... also its the full moon

i never know what to do after these dreams like do i reach out? honestly this person kind of intimidates me so i never know. Like i cAnt imagine in reality they miss being my friend that much. But they are pretty sentimental deep down, so maybe. Its just a difficult situation where I was never the one with any of the power, So it feels strange to instigate contact. Like how it happened in the dream, it would only really make sense if they said something first. Maybe these dreams are just meant to bring about some psychic closure that i'm not likely to ever receive irl. Its always very confusing to wake up from lol. I would like to feel that relief for real..

But at the end of the day im satisfied with my life and the friends I have now, so its not a big deal. Just stuff thats buried. I swear its always full moons when i dream about them lol! We have the same moon sign, in astrology, i wonder if thats something to do with it. We always had a lot of weird almost creepy synchronizations in our personalities. Oh well

9 notes · View notes

spin-birdie · 1 month ago

Text

kinktober day 15: overstimulation

prompt list

word count: ~620

pairing: unnamed tav/astarion

rating: explicit

additional tags: cam streamer au

"That's it, sweetheart," Tav grins.

Gods, they can barely hear themself over Astarion's cries. His cock flexes and throbs without rhythm under the wand in Tav's hand. They've both lost count of how many times he's come, his balls long past empty.

When Tav looks up at stream, chat is going wild. Most messages are along the lines of 'trash that white boy' spammed in all caps, as per usual for their audience, but chat's not the first thing on their mind. No, what really draws Tav's attention is how wrecked Astarion looks. He may be well fed for a vampire, but they've never seen him with a full-body blush like this. And he's drenched with sweat. His head hangs low, hands bound and chained to the ceiling of their play room. Gods know he would have fallen off the sybian ages ago if it weren't for that point of support.

"You can give me another, can't you?" Tav asks.

They pull Astarion up by the hair and drink in the spectacle. His eyes are wide and unseeing; he couldn't be any less focused if he tried. His jaw is slack, his lips bitten a pretty shade of red. His lovely curls have come undone from all the sweat. He scrunches his eyes shut, and fresh tears mingle with the shiny mess of tears and drool covering his face. And that's nothing on the fractured sounds pouring from his lips nonstop.

Tav presses the wand harder against Astarion's cock, raising the vibration level. "You can give me another, can't you?" they repeat insistently.

"Agh! U-u-ngh! Ghk--ohdz! Fuhhhc--! Nggahhh! Aaaahhhaahh! Ngho-- Mm-- Hngh…!! Guhhh!"

Astarion's reply is exactly what Tav wanted - unintelligible nonsense. He's not even gagged or anything.

"I think we broke him," Tav laughs to the audience. The livechat concurs, and they read one message aloud that makes them laugh: "Let's motivate him with a controlled shock."

They lean over to the sybian controls and crank up the vibration to max. Astarion wails, coughs, stutters, writhes against the chains, and sobs loudly. Tav waits for a safe signal, or any sign they should stop, but Astarion doesn't give them one. They lean in to lick the tears off his cheek.

"You're doing so well," they whisper earnestly into his ear. "We're almost done. I'm so proud of you, Astarion." They gently nibble the shell of his ear, running the wand along the length of his cock.

A few seconds later, Astarion goes taut, and his broken mewling breaks off in an abrupt, high-pitched yelp as he hits his peak. Once again, he convulses, his cock twitches sporadically, and the tiniest dribble of prostate fluid leaks out.

"Yes," Tav hisses excitedly.

But before they can celebrate any more, or taunt him with the offer of another orgasm, he goes completely slack in his restraints. Completely unresponsive against the still-active vibrators barraging him.

"Astarion? Oh shit." As fast as they can move, they turn off the toys and lift Astarion off the sybian. "Honey, Astarion, are you okay?"

He grunts when Tav is halfway through unchaining his wrists. He opens his eyes blearily. "Hnngh?"

Tav cradles his face, and a half-terrified laugh bubbles out of them. "You blacked out, honey," they whisper.

"Ah." Astarion blinks, head lolling as he licks his lips. Gods, his throat is probably shredded after all that screaming. "S-Sor…ry," he rasps.

"No, don't be sorry!" Tav soothes. They kiss his forehead, wincing at the feeling of guilt welling up inside them. Later, they tell themself, scratching Astarion's scalp in a way they hope is calming. "That seems like a sign we should end stream," they tell him, loudly enough for the audience to hear.

#bg3 #baldur's gate #kinktober #bg3 kinktober #astarion x tav #fanfic #lemon #original

7 notes · View notes

mysterytheater · 4 months ago

Text

"You may not be interested in absurdity," she said, "but absurdity is interested in you."

Shower of Gold by Donald Barthelme

Because he needed the money Peterson answered an ad that said "We'll pay you to be on TV if your opinions are strong enough or your personal experiences have a flavor of unusual."

He called the number and was told to come to Room 1551 in the Graybar Building on Lexington. This he did and after spending twenty minutes with a Miss Arbor who asked him if he had ever been in analysis was okeyed for a program called Who Am I?

"What do you have strong opinions about?" Miss Arbor asked.

"Art," Peterson said, "life, money."

"For instance?"

"I believe," Peterson said, "that the learning ability of mice can be lowered or increased by regulating the amount of serotonin in the brain. I believe that schizophrenics have a high incidence of unusual fingerprints, including lines that make almost complete circles. I believe that the dreamer watches his dream in sleep, by moving his eyes."

"That's very interesting!" Miss Arbor cried.

"It's all in the World Almanac," Peterson replied.

"I see you're a sculptor," Miss Arbor said, "that's wonderful."

"What is the nature of the program?" Peterson asked. "I've never seen it."

"Let me answer your question with another question," Miss Arbor said. "Mr. Peterson, are you absurd?" Her enormous lips were smeared with a glowing white cream.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I mean," Miss Arbor said earnestly, do you encounter your existence as gratuitous? Do you feel de trop? Is there nausea?"

"I have enlarged liver," Peterson offered. "That's excellent!" Miss Arbor exclaimed.

"That's a very good beginning. Who Am I? tries, Mr. Peterson, to discover what people really are. People today, we feel, are hidden away inside themselves, alienated, desperate, living in anguish, despair and bad faith. Why have we been thrown here, and abandoned? That's the question we try to answer, Mr. Peterson. Man stands alone in a featureless, anonymous landscape, in fear and trembling and sickness unto death. God is dead. Nothingness everywhere. Dread. Estrangement. Finitude. Who Am I? approaches these problems in a root radical way."

"On television?"

"We're interested in basics, Mr. Peterson. We don't play around."

"I see," Peterson said, wondering about the amount of the fee.

"What I wanted to know now, Mr. Peterson, is this: are you interested in absurdity?"

"Miss Arbor," he said, "to tell you the truth, I don't know. I'm not sure I believe in it."

"Oh, Mr. Peterson!" Miss Arbor said, shocked. "Don't say that! You'll be ..."

"Punished?" Peterson suggested.

"You may not be interested in absurdity," she said, "but absurdity is interested in you."

"I have a lot of problems, if that helps," Peterson said.

"Existence is problematic for you," Miss Arbor said, relieved. "The fee is two hundred dollars."

"I'm going to be on television," Peterson said to his dealer.

"A terrible shame," Jean-Claude responded. "Is it unavoidable?"

"It's unavoidable," Peterson said, "if I want to eat."

"How much?" Jean-Claude asked and Peterson said: "Two hundred."

He looked around the gallery to see if any of his works were on display. "A ridiculous compensation considering the infamy. Are you using your own name?" "You haven't by any chance ..." "No one is buying," Jean-Claude said. "Undoubtedly it is the weather. People are thinking in terms of?what do you call those things??ChrisCrafts. To boat with. You would not consider again what I spoke to you about before?" "No," Peterson said, "I wouldn't consider it." "Two little ones would move much faster than a single huge big one," Jean-Claude said, looking away. "To saw it across the middle would be a very simple matter." "It's supposed to be a work of art," Peterson said, as calmly as possible. "You don't go around sawing works of art across the middle, remember?" "That place where it saws," Jean-Claude said, "is not very difficult. I can put my two hands around it." He made a circle with his two hands to demonstrate. "Invariably when I look at that piece I see two pieces. A you absolutely sure you didn't conceive it wrongly in the first instance?" "Absolutely," Peterson said. Not a single piece of his was on view, and his liver expanded in rage and hatred. "You have a very romantic impulse," Jean-Claude said. "I admire, dimly, the posture. You read too much in the history of art. It estranges you from those possibilities for authentic selfhood that inhere in the present century." "I know," Peterson said, "could you let me have twenty until the first?"

Peterson sat in his loft on lower Broadway drinking Rheingold and thinking about the President. He had always felt close to the President but felt now that he had, in agreeing to appear on the television program, done something slightly disgraceful, of which the President would not approve. But I needed the money, he told himself, the telephone is turned off and the kitten is crying for milk. And I'm running out of beer. The President feels that the arts should be encouraged, Peterson reflected, surely he doesn't want me to go without beer? He wondered if what he was feeling was simple guilt at having sold himself to television or something more elegant: nausea? His liver groaned within him and he considered a situation in which his new relationship with the President was announced. He was working in the loft. The piece in hand was to be called Season's Greetings and combined three auto radiators, one from a Chevrolet Tudor, one from a Ford pickup, one from a 1932 Essex, with a part of a former telephone switchboard and other items. The arrangement seemed right and he began welding. After a time the mass was freestanding. A couple of hours had passed. He put down the torch, lifted off the mask. He walked over to the refrigerator and found a sandwich left by a friendly junk dealer. It was a sandwich made hastily and without inspiration: a thin slice of ham between two pieces of bread. He ate it gratefully nevertheless. He stood looking at the work, moving from time to time so as to view it from a new angle. Then the door to the loft burst open ran in, trailing a sixteen-pound sledge. His first blow cracked the principal weld in Season's Greetings, the two halves parting like lovers, clinging for a moment and then rushing off in opposite directions. Twelve Secret Service men held Peterson in a paralyzing combination of secret grips. He's looking good, Peterson thought, very good, healthy, mature, fit, trustworthy. I like his suit. The President's second and third blows smashed the Essex radiator and the Chevrolet radiator. Then he attacked the welding torch, the plaster sketches on the workbench, the Rodin cast and the Giacometti stickman Peterson had bought in Paris. "But Mr. President!" Peterson shouted. "I thought we were friends!" A Secret Service man bit him in the back of the neck. Then the President lifted the sledge high in the air, turned toward Peterson, and said: "Your liver is diseased? That's a good sign. You're making progress. You're thinking."

"I happen to think that guy in the White House is doing a pretty darn good job." Peterson's barber, a man named Kitchen who was also a lay analyst and the author of four books titled The Decision to Be, was the only person in the world to whom he had confided his former sense of community with the President. "As far as his relationship with you personally goes," the barber continued, "it's essentially a kind of I-Thou relationship, if you know what I mean. You got to handle it with full awareness of the implications. In the end one experienced only oneself, Nietzsche said. When you're angry with the President, what you experience is self-as-angry-with-the-President. When things are okay between you and him, what you experience is self-as-swinging-with-the-President. Well and good. But," Kitchen said, lathering up, "you want the relationship to be such that what you experience is the-President-as- swinging-with-you. You want his reality, get it? So that you can break out of the hell of solipsism. How about a little more off the sides?" "Everybody knows the language but me," Peterson said irritably. "Look," Kitchen said, "when you talk about me to somebody else, you say 'my barber,' don't you? Sure you do. In the same way, I look on you as being 'my customer,' get it? But you don't regard yourself as being 'my' customer and I don't regard myself as 'your' barber. Oh, it's hell all right." The razor moved like a switchblade across the back of Peterson's neck. "Like Pascal said: 'The natural misfortune of our mortal and feeble condition is so wretched that when we consider it closely, nothing can console us.'" The razor rocketed around an ear. "Listen," Peterson said, "what do you think of this television program called Who Am I? Ever seen it?" "Frankly," the barber said, "it smells of the library. But they do a job on those people, I'll tell you that." "What kind of a job?" The cloth was whisked away and shaken with a sharp popping sound. "It's too horrible even to talk about," Kitchen said. "But it's what they deserve, those crumbs." "Which crumbs?" Peterson asked.

That night a tall foreign-looking man with a switchblade big as a butcher knife open in his hand walked into the loft without knocking and said "Good evening, Mr. Peterson, I am the cat-piano player, is there anything you'd particularly like to hear?" "Cat-piano?" Peterson said, gasping, shrinking from the knife. "What are you talking about? What do you want?" A biography of Nolde slid from his lap to the floor. "The cat-piano," said the visitor, "is an instrument of the devil, a diabolical instrument, You needn't sweat quite so much," he added, sounding aggrieved. Peterson tried to be brave. "I don't understand," he said. "Let me explain," the tall foreign-looking man said graciously. "The keyboard consists of eight cats?the octave?encased in the body of the instrument in such a way that only their heads and forepaws protrude. The player presses upon the appropriate paws, and the appropriate cats respond?with a kind of shriek. There is also provision made for pulling their tails. A tail-puller, or perhaps I should say tail player" (he smiled a disingenuous smile) "is stationed at the rear of the instrument, where the tails are. At the correct moment the tail-puller pulls the correct tail. The tail-note is of course quite different from the paw-note and produces sounds in the upper register. Have you ever seen such an instrument, Mr. Peterson?" "No, and I don't believe it exists," Peterson said heroically. "There is an excellent early seventeenth-century engraving by Franz van der Wyngaert, Mr. Peterson, in which a cat-piano appears. Played, as it happens, by a man with a wooden leg. You will observe my own leg." The cat-piano player hoisted his trousers and a leglike contraption of wood, metal and plastic appeared. "And now, would you like to make a request? 'The Martyrdom of St. Sebastian'? The 'Romeo and Juliet' overture? 'Holiday for Strings'?" "But why?" Peterson began. "The kitten cries for milk, Mr. Peterson. And whenever a kitten cries, the cat-piano plays." "But it's not my kitten," Peterson said reasonably. "It's just a kitten that wished itself on me. I've been trying to give it away. I'm not sure it's still around. I haven't seen it since the day before yesterday." The kitten appeared, looked at Peterson reproachfully, and then rubbed itself against the cat-piano player's mechanical leg. "Wait a minute!" Peterson exclaimed. "This thing is rigged! That cat hasn't been here in two days. What do you want from me? What am I supposed to do?" "Choices, Mr. Peterson, choices. You chose that kitten as a way of encountering that which you are not, that is to say, kitten. An effort on the part of the pour-soi to?" "But it chose me!" Peterson cried, "the door was open and the first thing I knew it was lying in my bed, under the Army blanket. I didn't have anything to do with it!" The cat-piano player repeated his disingenuous smile. "Yes, Mr. Peterson, I know, I know. Things are done to you, it is all a gigantic conspiracy. I've heard the story a hundred times. But the kitten is here , is it not? The kitten is it not?" Peterson looked at the kitten, which was crying huge tigerish tears into its empty dish. "Listen, Mr. Peterson," the cat-piano player said, "listen!" The blade of his immense knife jumped back into the handle with a twack! And the hideous music began.

The day after the hideous music began the three girls from California arrived. Peterson opened his door, hesitantly, in response to an insistent ringing, and found himself being stared at by three girls in blue jeans and heavy sweaters, carrying suitcases. "I'm Sherry," the first girl said," "and this is Ann and this is Louise. We're from California and we need a place to stay." They were homely and extremely purposeful. "I'm sorry," Peterson said, "I can't?" "We sleep anywhere," Sherry said, looking past him into the vastness of his loft, "on the floor if we have to. We've done it before." Ann and Louise stood on their toes to get a good look. "What's that funny music?" Sherry asked, "it sounds pretty far-out. We really won't be any trouble at all and it'll just be a little while until we make a connection." "Yes," Peterson said, "but why me?" "You're an artist," Sherry said sternly, "we saw the AIR sign downstairs." Peterson cursed the fire laws which made posting of signs obligatory. "Listen," he said, "I can't even feed the cat. I can't even keep myself in beer. This is not the place. You won't be happy here. My work isn't authentic. I'm a minor artist." "The natural misfortune of our mortal and feeble condition is so wretched that when we consider it closely, nothing can console us," Sherry said. "That's Pascal." "I know," Peterson said weakly. "Where is the john?" Louise asked. Ann marched into the kitchen and began to prepare, from supplies removed from her rucksack, something called veal engagé. "Kiss me," Sherry said, "I need love." Peterson flew to his friendly neighborhood bar, ordered a double brandy, and thrust himself into a telephone booth. "Miss Arbor? This is Hank Peterson. Listen, Miss Arbor, I can't do it. No, I mean really. I'm being punished horribly fir even thinking about it. No, I mean it. You can't imagine what's going on around here. Please, get somebody else? I'd regard it as a great personal favor. Miss Arbor? Please?"

The other contestants were a young man in white pajamas named Arthur Pick, a karate expert, and an airline pilot in full uniform, Wallace E. Rice. "Just be natural," said, "and of course be frank. We score on the basis of the validity of your answers, and of course that's measured by the polygraph." "What's this about a polygraph?" the airline pilot. "The polygraph measures the validity of your answers," Miss Arbor said, her lips glowing whitely. "How else are we going to know if you're ..." "Lying?" Wallace E. Rice supplied. The contestants were connected to the machine and the machine to a large illuminated tote board hanging over their heads. The master of ceremonies, Peterson noted without pleasure, resembled the President and did not look at all friendly.

The program began with Arthur Pick. Arthur Pick got up in his white pajamas and gave a karate demonstration in which he broke three half-inch pine boards with a single kick of his naked left foot. Then he told how he had disarmed a bandit, late at night at the A&P where he was an assistant manager, with a maneuver called a "rip-choong" which he demonstrated on the announcer. "How about that?" the announcer caroled. "Isn't that something? Audience?" The audience responded enthusiastically and Arthur Pick stood modestly with his hands behind his back. "Now," the announcer said, "let's play Who Am I? And here's your host, Bill Lemmon!" No, he doesn't look like the President, Peterson decided. "Arthur," Bill Lemmon said, "for twenty dollars?do you love your mother?" "Yes," Arthur Pick said. "Yes, of course." A bell rang, the tote board flashed, and the audience screamed. "He's lying!" the announcer shouted, " lying! lying! lying!" "Arthur," Bill Lemmon said, looking at his index cards, "the polygraph shows that the validity of your answer is … questionable. Would you like to try it again? Take another crack at it?" "You're crazy," Arthur Pick said. "Of course I love my mother." He was fishing around inside his pajamas for a handkerchief. "Is your mother watching the show tonight, Arthur?" "Yes, Bill, she is." "How long have you been studying karate?" " Two years, Bill." "And who paid for the lessons?" Arthur Pick hesitated. Then he said: "My mother, Bill." "They were pretty expensive, weren't they, Arthur?" "Yes, Bill, they were." "How expensive?" "Twelve dollars an hour." "Your mother doesn't make very much money, does she, Arthur?" "No, Bill, she doesn't." "Arthur, what does your mother do for a living?" "She's a garment worker, Bill. In the garment district." "And how long has she worked down there?" "All her life, I guess. Since my old man died." "And she doesn't make very much money, you said." "No. But she wanted to pay for the lessons. She insisted on it." Bill Lemmon said: "She wanted a son who could break boards with his feet?" Peterson's liver leaped and the tote board spelled out, in huge, glowing white letters, the words BAD FAITH. The airline pilot, Wallace E. Rice. Was led to reveal that he had been caught, on a flight from Omaha to Miami, with a stewardess sitting on his lap and wearing his captain's cap, that the flight engineer had taken a Polaroid picture, and that he had been given involuntary retirement after nineteen years of faithful service. "It was perfectly safe," Wallace E. Rice said, "you don't understand, the automatic pilot can fly that plane better than I can." He further confessed to a lifelong and intolerable itch after stewardesses which had much to do, he said, with the way their jackets fell just on top of their hits, and his own jacket with the three gold stripes on the sleeve darkened with sweat until it was black.

I was wrong, Peterson thought, the world is absurd. The absurdity is punishing me for not believing in it. I affirm the absurdity. On the other hand, absurdity is itself absurd. Before the emcee could ask the first question, Peterson began to talk. "Yesterday," Peterson said to the television audience, "in the typewriter in front of the Olivetti showroom on Fifth Avenue, I found a recipe for Ten Ingredient Soup that included a stone from a toad's head. And while I stood there marveling a nice old lady pasted on the elbow of my best Haspel suit a little blue sticker reading THIS INDIVIDUAL IS A PART OF THE COMMUNIST CONSPIRACY FOR GLOBAL DOMINATION OG THE ENTIRE GLOBE. Coming home I passed a sign that said in ten-foot letters COWARD SHOES and heard a man singing "Golden earrings" in a horrible voice, and last night i dreamed there was a shoot- out at our house on Meat Street and my mother shoved me in a closet to get me out of the line of fire." The emcee waved at the floor manager to turn Peterson off, but Peterson kept talking. "In this kind of world," Peterson said, "absurd if you will, possibilities nevertheless proliferate and escalate all around us and there are opportunities for beginning again. I am a minor artist and my dealer won't even display my work if he can help it but minor is as minor does and lightning may strike even yet. Don't be reconciled. Turn off your television sets," Peterson said, "cash in your life insurance, indulge in a mindless optimism. Visit girls at dusk. Play the guitar. How can you be alienated without first having been connected? Think back and remember how it was." A man on the floor in front of Peterson was waving a piece of cardboard on which something threatening was written but Peterson ignored him and concentrated on the camera with the little red light. The little red light jumped from camera to camera in an attempt to throw him off balance but Peterson was too smart for it and followed wherever it went. "My mother was a royal virgin," Peterson said, "and my father a shower of gold. My childhood was pastoral and energetic and rich in experiences which developed my character. As a young man I was noble in reason, infinite in faculty, in form express and admirable, and in apprehension …" Peterson went on and on and although he was, in a sense, lying, in a sense he was not.

https://www.jessamyn.com/barth/gold.html

#donald barthelme #fiction #shower of gold #existential horror #absurdity

5 notes · View notes

ober-affen-geil · 11 months ago

Text

So like. A few things about episode 5 I really loved.

I think the decision to have Annabeth see the fates, and see them NOW, has very interesting implications. Seeing them now, when the line "fail to save what matters most" is hanging over them gives a lot of tension in the short term. But also knowing long term that the yarn was representing Luke's death, and knowing Annabeth's connection to him, I actually am very interested in the potential long term implication that Annabeth will be more directly involved with that specific plot payoff.

"What is love" playing and percy saying he thinks he heard it in an orthodontists office once dealt me so much psychic damage omg.

Ares starting flame wars on Twitter was chefs kiss.

Grover earnestly saying "I'm 24" to an immortal was really fucking funny. Also I think it's very interesting they are planting the seeds that ares is manipulateable in this way.

"I'm ok. I'm ok." WELL IM NOT

Hepheastus casting was flawless. Perfect. I almost cried seeing him on screen it was excellent.

Final note: Rick Riordan took 5 books to say that breaking the cycle of abuse was what pjo was about, here we have dropped all pretense and are just going ham and tbh I love it.

#Pjo #Pjo spoilers #Percy jackson and the olympians

12 notes · View notes

lorilane33 · 1 year ago

Text

FanExpo Dallas Write Up

So I went to FanExpo in Dallas yesterday 6-10-23, and it was one of the best days of my life! 🥺 I really went because I wanted to meet Jon Bernthal, and he happened to be within a car drive of me. But Gabriel Luna reminded me why I fell in love with him in the first place when he played Robbie Reyes in Agents of SHIELD, and I’m so glad I followed my gut and met him too. Oof. My heart 😩💜

Random cute guy in line with me named Jacob and I bonded over the Punisher while we were waiting in line to meet Jon. I feel like we were getting along fabulously. As we got to the table to pay for our stuff, I pulled out my photo op with Charlie and Jon to put my sticky note with my name on it. Jacob saw it and leaned into to me, telling me “I think that’s a really good photo. Not to pry or anything, but it’s really cool.” I then explained to him why I did it and he immediately turned back around to me and said, “well your parents are idiots if they can’t be proud of every part of you. And that was a brave thing to do.” 😩 you guys he was so sweet.

Jon Bernthal

I’m 100% positive Jon Bernthal is the first actor I’ve met to make my brain stop working almost completely. I was absolutely on the verge of crying to the point of me grimacing in the photo, but I walked up to him with my bi pride flag and explained to him that my parents will never be proud of this part of my life. I want to make a statement with people who are proud of me. He made sure to double check with me that it was right side up because he wanted to do it right, however we all see how well that went over because my own pride flag was upside down 🤣🤷🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️ We then turn to the camera and take it, and as he’s handing me my flag back he looks me very earnestly in the eyes and said, “well I am proud of you, sweetheart.” I swear I was fine until that very moment. He’s an intimidating man, and it was hard for me to look him in the eyes for very long. He absolutely murdered me.

I had a duo photo op with him and Charlie as well, and because I looked so not happy in the first one, and my flag was upside down, I decided to redo it with them. I walked up to Charlie and even though this was the first time I was seeing him I said, “I almost cried in my last photo so I want to fix it.” He gladly took the the corner of the flag from me, and I stood between them with Jon on my other side holding it again. Jon looked at me and smiled and said “thank you,” and Charlie gave me a very genuine smile and said, “thanks for being here,” as he handed me my flag back. It turned out so well and I’m so glad I redid it. 🥺 Charlie looks like such a goober and I love it 😂

I’m also so happy the handlers and Jon decided to let us get in line for his autos after his afternoon of photo ops at 6. They had ticketed people who were cut off when he had to leave for his panel that they had to honor first, and they originally were only going to do those and no more because everything shut down at 7. But there weren’t really that many people waiting to be in line behind them so they decided to let us in. We had a short convo and I thanked him for everything, and then he signed my photo op with him and Charlie. I walked away and that was that. I couldn’t have asked for a better interaction with him. Frank has come to mean so much to me, and I’m so happy the man portraying him is just as great. 💜

Gabriel Luna

He was so chill at his table, he was out in the line talking to the people waiting, and he took someone's FaceTime call. I had a chance to talk to him about how Nic Cage may have introduced the character of Ghost Rider to me as a kid, but his portrayal of Robbie Reyes cemented my love of Ghost Rider, and we ended up having a really good conversation about him. 🥺 then I mentioned that him in the Last of Us brought him back to me started him on a whole new discussion about that show and how hard we both think it is to like the second part of the video game 😆 we took some selfies, and during it he told me I had really great hair, but then corrected himself and said, “Oh wait. We both have really great hair.” I hugged him and said I had to go get in line for his photo op but I’d see him over there. He said "okay, and seriously your hair is great!" as I walked away.

His face lit up when he saw I was next in the line for a photo op, and when I got up to him he grabbed my left hand like we were dancing to pull my arm out so he could look at the tattoo that was there (it says ‘you are not alone, and is signed my another actor I met in 2018) 🥰 he said that’s really good advice to yourself, and then we faced the camera. I accidentally blinked when we did our first photo, so I got pulled out of the exiting line to go back and redo it. I’m honestly okay with that because as great as it was holding his hand i think it would have looked odd lol I walked back into the booth he was in and his back was to me, talking to the other people in the room. Once he realized I’d walked in he turned to me and smugly said “Oh! So you’re my blinker 😏” he was happy it was me! I immediately replied, “yeah. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose though,” and the whole room laughed 😆 so he pulled me in for another pic, and after he was done he gave me a really big hug, took my hands and looked very earnestly into my eyes when he told me “but for real, your hair is fantastic and you need to know that.” I said “you too, thank you again for everything.” We said goodbyes and I left. 🥰

I can’t say enough good things about Gabriel. Holy shit. He’s so kind and generous with his time, and cares about all of us so much!

#marvel #jon bernthal #frank castle #the punisher #gabriel luna #tommy miller #the last of us #the last of us hbo #robbie reyes #agents of shield #ghost rider #charlie cox #daredevil #matt murdock

27 notes · View notes

ladytanithia · 1 year ago

Text

WIP whenever

OK, it's not Wednesday yet, but I'm going to be busy tomorrow so just in case... tagged by @gwilin-stay-winnin

tagging @mareenavee @dirty-bosmer @thequeenofthewinter @skyrim-forever - no pressure, you can wait until tomorrow or a different whenever! :-D

Working on so many things right now, but this was the most recent thing I had my fingers in. A possible chapter for Miranja's distant (like 20+ years from now) future. A meeting with someone she'll never meet in-game, because she's too nice to do the quest involved.

“Here to kill me and claim my place as Boethiah’s Champion?” The red-headed Dunmer had already risen to his feet and picked up his battle-axe from the table, gripping it with both hands and leveling it to one side as he spoke. His dark armor radiated a sinister black mist that seemed alive.

Of course, Miranja being herself, the thought crossed her mind, however briefly, that this was a handsome Dunmer man, and she hated killing Dunmer, but it was the world-weary way he prepared to defend himself that really gave Miranja pause. It was almost as if he had been expecting her, and his putting up a fight was purely de rigueur. He was a reflection of her, and she almost felt guilty about bursting in on him in what had seemed a moment of deep contemplation.

Lower your weapon, my daughter, came a tiny, quiet, calm voice in the back of her mind.

“Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa!” she cried, dropping her sword with a clatter and raising her empty hands in front of her.

The Dunmer paused in his attack, just before he began the swing of his battle-axe toward her. He looked at her in expectant confusion and curiosity, but still held his weapon at the ready.

“I don’t want to have to fight you or kill you,” Miranja told him earnestly.

“Well, that’s not what I expected,” he stated in bemusement. “You mean you weren’t sent by Boethiah?”

“Boethiah?” Miranja exclaimed in obvious distaste. “I’m sure if Boethiah did want me to do some sort of favor, it would be something horrific. Not that I would ever deal with such a cold, heartless daedra. I still don’t understand why you Dunmer worship her, unless it’s out of fear. No, I’m here because the Jarl issued a bounty to clear the bandits from this place. What was that you said about her champion?”

“As far as I know, I’m still her current Champion,” he replied, finally lowering his weapon and returning it to the table. His armor seemed to have returned to normal, no trace remaining of the curling black tendrils of vapor. He turned back to her, looking her up and down now that the moment of fight or flight had passed. “But I’m sure she’s grown bored with me and is seeking a new Champion, if she hasn’t already found one and sent them to end me.”

“You don’t seem like you’re afraid to die,” Miranja commented, thinking of his air of resignation when he’d thought she was his enemy and potential murderer. “But it almost seems like you’re hiding here.”

“A man who feels no fear has no heart,” the Champion stated with a note of annoyance in his voice, as if Miranja must be daft. “I know fear. I just don’t let it control me. As for hiding, I suppose it would appear that way. I don’t see it as hiding, but maybe I’m lying to myself on that count. I’m just trying to live out what’s left of my life in relative peace.”

He returned to the table and sat back down, and Miranja followed, standing behind the vacant chair perpendicular to his, feeling she should wait for an invitation to sit.

“Boethiah speaks of leaving your mark, a sign of your passing.”

Miranja nodded. “Carve your will upon the world with tongues and blades. I’ve been to the sacellum in the Velothi mountains in Eastmarch. The priestess there told me that if I wanted to see Boethiah, I had to trick someone into trusting me and then lead them there and sacrifice them. I could never do such a thing. I watched two of her followers fight each other to the death, and it seemed pointlessly tragic.”

“Indeed,” agreed the Champion. He motioned to her to sit, and she did. “There are other ways, better ways, to leave your mark on the world. I was finished with Boethiah long ago. There’s enough blood on these hands. I’ve realized that I have a talent for smithing, and I find it calming and satisfying. There’s a fulfillment in creating things, knowing that the armor I’m making is saving people’s lives, changing their destinies, and their families’ lives and destinies by extension.” He held his hands up before himself, seeing their potential for both destruction and creation. Miranja saw it, too, and found herself longing to touch those hands.

#skyrim #elder scrolls #miranja #fanfic #ao3 #tesblr #dunmer #champion of boethiah #tanithia writes

8 notes · View notes

camille-lachenille · 2 years ago

Text

Day 3 of All of Arda is Autistic 2023:

Prompt: Cooking/comfort item

Rating: Gen

CW: autistic meltdown

Ellalwen is my OC for Elrohir’s son, and the twin brother of Elneldor. In this ficlet he is the Elven equivalent of a three years old

The peaceful evening of Imladris was disturbed by a loud, desperate wail, the likes only a distressed child could produce. Elrond immediately dropped the ledger he was holding and ran to Elrohir’s chambers where the sound came from. There, he found his son crouched in front of a sobbing elfling. Ellalwen’s face was red and scrunched as he cried with the full strength of his little lungs, and tears streamed down his chubby cheeks. “Want Bi’bo!” he repeated in-between the sobs.

“Do I need to go and fetch Bilbo? Elrond asked quietly, resting a hand on Elrohir’s shoulder, already sorry to disturb the elderly Hobbit. Elrohir son glanced up and smiled warily.

“There’s no need, Bilbo is his plushie. Dan took Elneldor and the girls to look for it.” he explained quickly before returning his attention to his distressed son. Elrond closed his eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose. The stuffed unicorn, a gift fron the resident Hobbit of Imladris, was the only thing that comforted Ellalwen at night and its disappearance meant he wouldn’t sleep until it was found again.

“Well, maybe Bilbo the Hobbit would know where Bilbo the unicorn is. I recall he spent the afternoon with the children…” he proposed at last, as his son tried to confort Ellalwen without touching him.

“Maybe… if you could go to him, please,” Elrohir answered distractedly. But as Elrond was to leave the room, someone knocked on the door and Bilbo Baggins himself slipped in.

“Good evening my friends. I found this critter sitting on my bed and came as quickly as possible,” the Hobbit said with a kind smile, holding a stuffed unicorn out. Ellalwen looked up, still crying, and made grabby hands at the plushie. Bilbo hobbled toward him and put his namesake in the elfling’s arms. “He missed you a lot, I think.” he said gently, and Ellalwen nodded, his face already buried in the unicorn’s fluffy back. He was still shaking but not wailing anymore and Elrond saw how Elrohir relaxed at the sight.

“Thank you, Bilbo, you are a saviour. And I am sorry for the bother, really.” the younger Elf said, relief clear on his face.

“Oh, none of that!” the elderly Hobbit brushed off. “I have much practise with various relatives’s children. And my dear Frodo-lad had many a similar episode when he was little. Now, I wonder if he still have this old blanket he used to drag everywhere… but I digress, my friends! I bid you a good night, especially you Ellalwen-lad!”

With a last wave of the hand, Bilbo left the room. Elrohir was smiling earnestly now, and Elrond sat on the floor next to him, waiting for the elfling to calm down from his meltdown. After a few more minutes, Ellalwen lifted his blotchy face from his plushie and crawled to Elrohir, who immediately scooped him in a tight hug. “There now, you are safe. Your Bilbo is here,” he said soothingly, almost humming the words. “Hug him tight and close your eyes, pîn nín, it is time to sleep.” Ellalwen rubbed his cheek against the plushie, nodding sluggishly at his father’s words and already dozing off, exhausted by this episode.

Elrond stood up, pressed a light kiss to Elrohir’s head and silently left the room. He had an order for half a dozed stuffed unicorns to send to Dale, now. Just in case.

#all of arda is autistic 2023 #tolkien #lord of the rings #elflings #original character #original child character #elrond #elrohir #bilbo baggins #autistic meltdown #comfort item #ficlet #writing prompt #autism acceptance month

13 notes · View notes

hummingbird-of-light · 1 year ago

Text

Against All Odds

Part 569

McCoy

McCoy watched Robbie walk away for a moment before turning to make his own way to the student lounge. It was pretty empty for a Saturday morning and McCoy had his choice of seats. He chose his favorite couch spot and relaxed back into the cushions with his thoughts.

Moments later those thoughts were broken as Jaylah threw herself down next to him.

“Oh Just Leonard,” she cried. “I will fail history, I am sure!”

McCoy held back a chuckle at the dramatics of the alien girl.

“No you won’t sweetheart,” he said reassuringly. “Everything you’ve had me help you with you’ve aced!”

“But you were there! On my own…” Jaylah looked mournful and shook her head.

“You’ll be fine,” McCoy emphasized. He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “You’re going to pass.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” McCoy said firmly. “I know you will.”

Jaylah made a sound like a sigh, but didn’t protest again.

“What are you doing today, Just Leonard?” Jaylah finally asked.

“Don’t know,” he answered. “Waiting for band practice to be over. Told Robbie I’d be up for something when he finishes a call.”

Jaylah sat up from where she had slumped against him and turned slightly.

“Who does Robbie call? He disappears so early in the evenings now but he never says why.”

McCoy’s eyes widened slightly.

“Why do you think he’s calling someone?” McCoy asked carefully.

Jaylah gave McCoy a firm look.

“Robbie always used to stay until nearly curfew. Now he watches the clock and leaves at nearly the same time every night. Who is it?”

McCoy swallowed. It wasn’t his secret to reveal.

“Why don’t you just ask him?”

Jaylah let out a huff and frowned at him.

“Would he tell me?” she countered.

“Why do you think I know?”

Jaylah grinned suddenly. “Because you won’t answer my questions.”

“Maybe because I don’t know either.”

“You lie,” Jaylah stated. “I see it in your eyes.”

“It’s not for me to say,” McCoy said quietly. “Ask him if you want to know; if he’ll tell you.”

Jaylah nodded at him. At least that’s what McCoy thought until she spoke again.

“I know,” she whispered at him. “It’s your princess sister isn’t it?”

McCoy desperately tried not to show anything on his face.

“Ask Robbie. It’s his business.”

“What are you two up to?” Christine’s voice hit them as she sat down on McCoy’s other side.

“Nothing,” McCoy said, trying to sound normal as he turned to her. “Trying to decide what to do until the band is done.”

“I should study my history,” Jaylah said, beginning to stand.

“No, no,” said Christine quickly. “Let’s have some fun. Play a game or something!”

“Yeah. Come on Jaylah; we’ll play cards,” McCoy agreed. “I’ll let you win.” He smiled at her.

“Let me—!” Jaylah stood over him fiercely. “I can win without help!”

They were two rounds into a game when Robbie arrived in the lounge. McCoy quickly waved him over.

“Everything good?” he asked, trying to read Robbie’s face. The younger boy’s eyes looked less fearful than they had when he had left breakfast.

Robbie nodded as he sat.

“Anything you need,” Christine said earnestly, “let us know how we can help.”

“Thanks Chris,” Robbie said.

Part 570

Scotty

"Scotty, that was a great rehearsal!"

Uhura followed Scotty and together they left the music room.

"Aye, it really was."

Rehearsals were in full swing for the upcoming performance, which would take place before winter break. And as always, everyone was on their best behavior.

Well... almost everyone. Neither Kati nor Khan were there. It was unusual to play the familiar pieces without the flute.

"I'm sure the performance will be great!" a voice sounded behind Scotty, and Chekov and Sulu quickly joined them.

Scotty smiled gently.

"I'm sure it will."

As much as he tried to focus on the good events, the situation with Robbie was on his mind. Uhura seemed to notice.

"Are you okay?"

She put a hand on his arm and looked at him worriedly.

"I'm... I'm just worried."

"About Robbie?"

Chekov's face, which was on his other side, reflected the same concern. Scotty nodded.

"Aye."

"Maybe we should try to distract him as best we can," Sulu suggested, and suggestions for ventures were immediately thrown around.

Scotty listened to everything, nodding in understanding, but nothing really convinced him.

"Robbie?"

Scotty was surprised to find his little brother at the pool table with Leonard, Jaylah and Christine. He had thought he was on the phone with Leah. Then again, their rehearsal had taken longer than expected and maybe Robbie was just done talking already.

"Scotty, hey."

"There you guys are finally! What took you so long, Montgomery Scotty?"

Jaylah looked at him almost reproachfully, and he knew why. He had promised to help her with a project.

"Sorry, lassie. Rehearsal took a little longer, but now we're ready to go."

Scotty looked around and spotted Keenser on the couch with a book.

"I'm sure Keens will help us, too. Ye can go ahead and ask."

Jaylah nodded and left the group. That gave Scotty enough time to talk briefly with Robbie.

"How are ye doing? Are ye okay?"

His little brother shrugged.

"As well as can be expected."

"And... yer phone call?"

Robbie nodded.

"It... it went fine. But... it hurts to be apart after everything."

Scotty could imagine that all too well.

He was about to retort something when a familiar voice sounded from the door to the lounge.

"Guys?"

It was Jim and Spock.

"Pike wants to see us."

The friends exchanged surprised looks. What was going on? Why would the headmaster want to see them all?

Slowly, they all got up and started moving.

#star trek #montgomery scott #leonard mccoy #scones #au #against all odds

4 notes · View notes

unloneliest · 1 year ago

Note

For the tmg album asks: The Life of the World To Come?

thank you so, so much for this ask - the life of the world to come was my first mountain goats album and remains the most important to me to this day <3

the best song on the album: matthew 25:21 speaks to grief in a way that is genuinely incomparable in my experience. i think it'd be a crime to suggest any other song off this album for best song.

my favorite song on the album: extremely difficult to answer. genesis 3:23 like. changed my life. i'd heard a few tmg songs before my best friend played me genesis 3:23 but wasn't Into The Goats. and since then i've been like. guy who almost exclusively listens to the mountain goats. it also had an insane impact on my original story. but if we're permitting bonus tracks too, the itunes bonus track, enoch 18:14, is like. one of the best songs in tmg's discography to me and i love it in a place beyond words.

youtube

my least favorite song on the album: my least favorite song on this album is ezekiel 7 and the permanent efficacy of grace, but like. it's still a song with complex layers of meaning and personal emotional connection for me, i very much so love and have cried to this song, the others just all outrank it.

the most overrated song on the album: psalms 40:2. people aren't wrong to love it as much as they do, but it's the song i see recognized the most off of this album and it's far from the best song on the album as a whole! no hate to psalms 40:2, just a wish that the rest of the album got More recognition.

most underrated: 1 samuel 15:23? i don't actually know the definitive lowest rated song on this album, but i also don't think i've ever seen any love for this track. it's not My Favorite of all the songs on this album? it's not top 3 for me? but it is like really important to me. it stands at the threshold to this album and stands by your side as you enter the emotional space the album occupies. it's a guardian of sorts to me, and i treasure it, and it brings me to some crystal clear memories of a beloved friend's home. the only other transitional guardian like it i can name in the discography is going to chino, which i love just as earnestly.

the banger of all bangers: i'd be lying if i didn't say psalms 40:2, straight up. to avoid repeat answers though i'm gonna shout out romans 10:9 which was my alarm clock when i worked at an airport starbucks for the 3:30 am shift and was getting at most 3 hours of sleep at a time but frequently less.

rate from 0-10: ten. i love you the life of the world to come.

#jam replies #waterloggedsoliloquy #art looking over my shoulder: 'truly fuck the song titles on this album'. me voice 'these are all off the dome'#<- tag added b4 i completed my answer. but the only numbers i actually had to check were for 1 samuel 15:23 #ANYWAYS it feels like a crime to not mention hebrews 11:40 re: this ask. it feels like the most Me goats song in the discography which is #different from what's my favorite.#tmg posting #the life of the world to come

4 notes · View notes

hotarutranslations · 1 year ago

Text

Up-Front Channel!

Up-Front Channel

Does everyone watch! this!

Uwaa, I'm also moved,

Videos that hadn't been uploaded onto YouTube up until now, Music videos of songs in the past, Here for the 25th anniversary, somehow, They're being officially uploaded!!! Amazing!!!

I forgot the that it was from yesterday……

Im [artoci;ar ot was hard to write but,

Just before,

H.P. All Stars "ALL FOR ONE & ONE FOR ALL!" Music Video

I almost cried when I saw this song-----!

Um, this was also, probably, the first time I watched this……

Rather, there are many songs like that

Even with lives, At Hello! Project lives, They're songs we'll sing but, I haven't seen the MV, So I was a bit into it but,

Its super filled with so much love……

It was like, uwaa---🫣

With the final pose in the choreo, The hands move from low to high,

There is lots of choreo like that!

But in just this song,

Its like, in order to support the earth, (its like lifting it up, to accompany it, I don't know if thats the right answer in its nuance or not though)

Its not just a pose, its meaning is earnestly conscious towards Earth

Also watching this MV, the Earth is there the whole time, but its easy to really understand at the end, Its really a pose to support the Earth!

Was the MV planned first, was the choreography planned first, I don't know but,

I super duper felt that🌍️✨️

its, Hello! Project!!!

In this way these older songs are stirring up excitement for,

our 25th anniversary live in September, Its like that!?

I also don't know anything about it yet so I'm looking forward😂👏

But with our current songs too, I want to send those to you a ton!

Morning Musume '23 "HEAVY GATE"

Thank you very much everyone who has watched~~❤️

see you ayumin <3

#Ishida Ayumi #Morning Musume '23 #Morning Musume #Hello! Project #Translation #Blog

2 notes · View notes

seitmai · 4 months ago

Text

I very much procrastinated and didn't read this for a while on purpose cause I just can’t bear that this is the last chapter, I love these two so much 🥹😭🥰

After three more paragraphs, it was no use. It wasn't even ten o'clock in the morning yet, but she gave up and switched to the notes app on her phone where she had been adding ideas for Jessica's bridal shower and bachelorette party. Physics jokes about the laws of attraction? Designer lingerie shop in LA? Can you make a math equation that looks like a penis?

That sounds like an iconic bridal shower and bachelorette party and absolutely perfect for Jessica, love their friendship🥰

Anna's heart started pounding erratically, and her fingertips felt numb. Anticipation and confusion mingled together as she opened the link. It was difficult to read as she tried to take a deep breath, but she wanted to consume Bob's words as quickly as possible.

I love how excited she gets just because of that notification 😍

"The next two minutes?" Anna mumbled to herself as she read the last lines over again. "Two minutes?" She was out of her seat immediately, neck craning around the crowded coffee shop, looking in every direction. And that's when she saw him stroll inside in his khaki uniform and silver glasses with the most handsome smile on his face. "Bob!" she cried out, nearly tripping over her chair as she left her stuff behind to get to him as quickly as she could. He was home.

That man is such a romantic, surprising Anna at the book shop they first met with a poem really just for her🥰 very swoonable of him 🤭🥹🥰

"I'm divorced." His eyes went wide, and a sound of pure excitement escaped him as he scooped her up into his arms. "You're divorced?" Anna laughed as she told him, "Finalized ten days ago. Fuck Kevin."

FUCK KEVIN!!!

The six seconds when he was walking around the truck and she couldn't touch him were miserable, but soon enough, he was kissing her while he started the engine. Then she had her fingers wrapped up with his while he started to drive. "I love you, Anna." He kept his eyes on the road as he made his way through Coronado, and she felt warmer than she had in twelve weeks. "I love you, and I would never pressure you to do anything you didn't want to do." She turned to look at his handsome profile. "I know you wouldn't. That's why I love you so much."

I'm legit so in live with their love 🥰😍

"It's not ambiguous anymore!" Anna cheered as they neared his house where she had been living for months. "I'm ready for the future. The future is here. The future is now." She was all smiles as he parked the truck with an anxious look in his eyes. "You told me you wanted me forever," he whispered, and Anna couldn't figure out why he looked so nervous. "Of course I want you forever," she told him once again. She'd made it as clear as she could that she was done running.

No more running and the future is here and now😭🥹

"A ring?" she asked, realizing he was holding a small box. A jewelry box. She looked at him where he was kneeling in front of her, cheeks turning pink. "What kind of ring?" she whispered, hopeful yet needing to be sure. Bob snapped the box open, and all Anna could see was a beautiful diamond. "An engagement ring. But only if you want it. I know you probably need more time. I don't even need an answer right now, I promise," he told her earnestly as she scooted a little closer to him. "You were still married two weeks ago, but I wanted to give it to you now anyway. You can wear it or not wear it. We can wait a while if you want. I just... wanted you to know it's all yours. I'm all yours."

He is so sweet 😭🥺🥰

She couldn't stop smiling, and the tears in her eyes made the diamond look all blurry as she asked, "Do you really want to marry me? I'm a mess." He grinned at her. "You're really not, Baby. You're smart and beautiful and funny and kind. You're a fighter. Of course I want to marry you."

They made a long, luxurious stop in their bed where Anna almost lost her voice from the number of times she called out Bob's name, and then he made her lunch before the two of them made their way to the living room bookshelf. Anna smiled as she reached for A Room With a View, remembering so well the day she started to fall in love with Bob Floyd. The book still looked practically brand new even though he'd already read it, and she grinned as she said, "I can't wait to dog ear all your pages." "I will gladly let you."

I can't, I have no words I'm crying tears of joy 😭😭😭 I love them so much and them having such a great happy end makes me so happy 🥰

I loved this story so much, thank you for sharing it with us!!! It's truly one of my favs 🫶🏻

Covering the Classics Part 19 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Bob is away, Anna can feel his absence everywhere. But nothing beats a perfect reunion.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, adult language, mentions of smut, 18+

Length: 2000 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

Months later....

Sitting in the coffee shop alone after visiting so many times with Bob truly made Anna sad. She was so used to sipping her coffee while he drank his hot tea, and somehow the scent always clung to his hair for hours afterwards. She'd bury her nose against him when they got home, and he would laugh when she told him he always smelled good.

But now he was gone, and she couldn't do anything about it. She accidentally burned her mouth on her coffee, and after that it tasted disgusting. She got herself a croissant, but they were better when shared. Tears stung her eyes, and she had to take a deep breath and convince herself that it would be over soon. Then she focused her attention on her computer as she worked through some more of the changes she wanted to make to her manuscript.

She would defer to Advanced Calculus for that last item. With a sigh, she was about to close her computer, buy another croissant for Suzanne, and then head out when she saw a new email notification.

"No way," she gasped as she tapped on it and stared at her computer screen.

Sky Writing has posted a new, original work! Click the link below to check out the subscriber that you follow!

I can see the dusky outline on the horizon,

But the California coastline isn't enough.

I need to be at home.

I need my bookshelf.

I need my books.

I need your books.

I need my Anna.

I need to see you in the next two minutes,

Because twelve weeks is way too long.

"Bob!" she cried out, nearly tripping over her chair as she left her stuff behind to get to him as quickly as she could. He was home. He was home early from his deployment. Communication had been a little spotty, and there was so much she wanted to tell him, but he was finally home.

"Anna," he murmured as she threw herself at him, knocking the wind out of her own lungs. His arms were wrapped around her as soon as her lips met his, and she didn't care if there was a whole shop of people watching them. He was finally home. Somehow he still tasted like tea, and he smelled so good, she buried her nose against his neck as he chuckled.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked, kissing him just above his shirt collar.

"Jess told me," he replied easily.

She kissed her way up to his ear as he started to slowly walk her backwards to the small table where she'd been sitting. "Why didn't you call me? I could have picked you up. I missed you so much."

"I just wanted to surprise you," he whispered, claiming her lips again as they stood next to the table.

She looked up at his pretty eyes and said, "This is a wonderful surprise. And I have one of my own."

"What is it?" he asked softly, his fingers tracing the freckles along her cheek and chin as she grinned up at him.

"I'm divorced."

His eyes went wide, and a sound of pure excitement escaped him as he scooped her up into his arms. "You're divorced?"

Anna laughed as she told him, "Finalized ten days ago. Fuck Kevin."

"You drove my truck here? Let's go," Bob said, immediately carrying her toward the exit.

"Wait, I need my stuff!"

"Oh. Right," he replied, suddenly very flustered as he helped her shove her computer and phone into her bag.

"I was planning to get a croissant or something to take to Suzanne," she said as he practically dragged her outside and down the street to his truck.

"Well, I was planning on taking you back to the bookstore to pick out something we could read together tonight, but this is even more important."

Anna ended up with her back pressed against the side of the truck while he unlocked the door, and she pressed her lips to his Adam's apple while she tried to hold onto her bag. She wanted to taste him everywhere. "Going right home actually sounds like a pretty good idea."

"That's exactly where we're going," he promised, tossing her stuff onto the seat before helping her in as well. The six seconds when he was walking around the truck and she couldn't touch him were miserable, but soon enough, he was kissing her while he started the engine. Then she had her fingers wrapped up with his while he started to drive. "I love you, Anna." He kept his eyes on the road as he made his way through Coronado, and she felt warmer than she had in twelve weeks. "I love you, and I would never pressure you to do anything you didn't want to do."

She turned to look at his handsome profile. "I know you wouldn't. That's why I love you so much."

She watched as he swallowed hard before saying, "I know we talked about our future, but it was always kind of ambiguous while we waited for your divorce decree."

"It's not ambiguous anymore!" Anna cheered as they neared his house where she had been living for months. "I'm ready for the future. The future is here. The future is now."

She was all smiles as he parked the truck with an anxious look in his eyes. "You told me you wanted me forever," he whispered, and Anna couldn't figure out why he looked so nervous.

"Of course I want you forever," she told him once again. She'd made it as clear as she could that she was done running. Kevin and New Jersey and everything that could have broken her but didn't were all left in the past. She was moving on a little bit more every day with Bob and her best friends and her tenure track teaching position at San Diego State. She was unashamedly taking excellent care of herself, and she never stopped Bob when he told her she needed to take a break and that he'd handle something for her. She wasn't going anywhere ever again.

"I want you forever, too. And we can go slow, or we can go fast. Or you can tell me you don't want what I have to give you, and that's okay too."

"What?" she asked, her heart sinking in her chest as he parked and climbed out. She wanted everything Bob had to give, and she wanted to give him everything, too. They even talked about getting married someday after he initially got over his nerves enough to bring up the topic. She had assured him that he was exactly the only person she would do that with after her disastrous first marriage. Why would he think she didn't want what he had to give?

"Bob?" she asked as she climbed out as well and met him on the sidewalk. "Why do you look so concerned?" He didn't respond. He only led her up to the porch and unlocked the door. "Bob!" she complained when he scooped her up and carried her up the stairs, going two at a time until his breath was coming in shorter gasps. Instead of turning toward their bedroom like she expected, he went into the guest room and dropped her onto the futon.

She rarely came in here. It was almost funny that Bob planned on sleeping in this room when he insisted Anna come home with him after Kevin figured out where she lived. And now he was on his hands and knees, crawling under the futon as she asked, "What in the world are you doing?"

He hit his head and grunted in response, but a second later, he emerged with his hair all messed up and something in his hand. "I got you a ring."

Bob snapped the box open, and all Anna could see was a beautiful diamond. "An engagement ring. But only if you want it. I know you probably need more time. I don't even need an answer right now, I promise," he told her earnestly as she scooted a little closer to him. "You were still married two weeks ago, but I wanted to give it to you now anyway. You can wear it or not wear it. We can wait a while if you want. I just... wanted you to know it's all yours. I'm all yours."

She hadn't worn the rings from Kevin in over a year and a half. She pawned them with no remorse before she left for California. "It has been a very long time since I was really married, Bob." She took the box from his hand and looked at the ring. She couldn't stop smiling, and the tears in her eyes made the diamond look all blurry as she asked, "Do you really want to marry me? I'm a mess."

He grinned at her. "You're really not, Baby. You're smart and beautiful and funny and kind. You're a fighter. Of course I want to marry you."

Without another word, Anna took the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. She'd known Bob long enough to be sure that his words were honest. She was willing to throw it all in on Sky Writing. "We can take our time," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him. "There's no need to rush. But I definitely want to wear this ring."

"We didn't make it to the bookstore to pick out anything new to read," she mused, brushing all of the colorful spines with her fingers.

"Maybe we could read the first book you ever recommended for me. Together this time," he replied, his hands settling on her hips as his chin rested on her shoulder.

Anna smiled as she reached for A Room With a View, remembering so well the day she started to fall in love with Bob Floyd. The book still looked practically brand new even though he'd already read it, and she grinned as she said, "I can't wait to dog ear all your pages."

"I will gladly let you."

---------------------------

The End! Thank you for reading another adventure in the Sugarverse! I hope you learned that even when you're a mess and barely holding it together, you're still worthy of friendship and love. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

@thedroneranger

@theamuz

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@yuckosworld

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-magnolia

@avaleineandafryingpan

@t-nd-rfoot

@eddiemunsonreader

@wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

@sio-ina-bottle

@lovingperfectionsblog

@daisydont-lie

@sappy-seresin

@birdy-bat-writes

@cutelittlefakejourneys

@cottagecori

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@sotalife

@novastories

@xoxabs88xox

@rileyanntoinette

@mannsachds

@midnightmagpiemama

@greatszu

@zetasaturno99

@lovingrobertfloyd

@taytaylala12

@captain-fandomwriter58

@grxcisxhy-wp

@hobireasns

@wolfquake23

@paintlavillered

@seitmai

@noonenuts

@amiets2

@imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog

@lonelysoul50

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@cruelmissdior

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@angelbabyange

@eternallyvenus

@sgt-barnesveins

@kmc1989

@libbyaller

356 notes · View notes