#also had the legs in a weird place and was from IKEA.

[isan0rt]

Last month one of my neighbors who appeared to be selling their house left a beautiful hardwood table in pieces on the curb as trash that had just. Had the MOST UGLY WHITE PAINT slapped on it in the most slapdash, hideous fashion you've ever seen in your life, which I assume is why they put a 35 year old cherry table on the fucking curb.

Anyway I rescued it and I need everybody to see my refinishing process photos because I am shameless and also extremely proud of this table (I've never refinished furniture before).

Look at my table!!!

[cosmicalily]

Fluffy Firstborn - Seungmin x Reader

୨୧ a Cherry Fic ୨୧ inspired by a delusional dream and Seungmin's new hairstyle that's a little too golden retriever for my sanity to cope with.

Pairing: Seungmin x GN!Reader

Genre: Pure fluff (maybe the fluffiest fic I've ever written)

Warnings: None that I can think of!

Author's Note: I had the most delusional puppy love dream last night about Minnie and my own beloved dog, and I just had to write a fic about it so you can all experience it too. Sharing is caring, even if it's delusional!

“Y/N, there’s a dog in our backyard,” Seungmin said, standing in the open doorway leading outside. He’d just gotten home from work and came to snuggle beside you on the couch, but he’d noticed something outside and gone to look.

“Mm,” you hummed, covering your mouth with your sleeve to muffle your giggle. “That’s really weird. Is the gate closed? Maybe it got in somehow?”

“Yeah, it’s shut. I haven’t seen this dog around the neighbourhood, though,” Seungmin replied, stepping out onto the back porch. You followed him, trying hard to conceal your smile. 

You and Seungmin had moved out of his apartment and into a proper house a little over a month ago, both deciding you wanted a bit more space and a place to make your own. Although you’d been living together for over a year now, it still made your stomach flutter even more so when you woke up beside him each morning, his hand flopped across your middle, face shoved into your shoulder and soft hair tickling your face, sprawled in your bed like a giant puppy. He’d been wanting a dog, specifically a big one for ages, but he knew it wasn’t really practical to have a large dog while you were living in your apartment. When you went for walks around the city or in the parks, he’d stop to pet every dog, and would frequently dog-sit and walk Kkami and Bbama, his friend’s puppies, when they were away or busy.  After you’d moved to this neighbourhood, Seungmin had very quickly become well acquainted with every dog on the street, knowing their names and breeds within the first two days of living here. It was like a secret code, a way of referring to your neighbours. You didn’t call them by their names, you called them (insert dog’s name)’s owner. It was adorable and hilarious and so incredibly Seungmin.

When you’d chosen this house, Seungmin had talked about how he thought the backyard was perfect for a puppy. You’d agreed, clinging onto his jumper sleeve, imagining a golden retriever or labrador running around, flopping beside you on the couch, following you around the house. Essentially, a four-legged fluffy Seungmin. The idea made your heart feel so warm you thought it would melt.

A few weeks ago, your best friend’s golden retriever had a litter of puppies. Naturally, you’d taken Seungmin to meet them, and he’d fallen in love, sitting on the floor and letting them crawl all over him while you talked to your friend. Whilst he loved them all, one in particular, the largest and most awkward, a little shy amongst the others but oh so loving when in Seungmin’s arms had caught his attention. Your friend decided to let him give the dogs temporary names to distinguish them until they were adopted, and he’d named that puppy Mini, despite the fact that he was the biggest in the litter.

You knew he’d wanted to adopt Mini on the spot, but he was also practical. He knew it was the clunky first part of moving in together, and there was a lot to do. The bedroom needed to be painted, furniture needed to be set up, more than one IKEA trip was guaranteed. So he hadn’t pushed it, but the other night, you’d seen him scrolling through the photos of Mini on his phone in bed one night after you came out of the shower.

You’d laid beside him in bed, and he’d put his phone down, nestling into you the way he always did. “You really want a puppy, don’t you, baby?” you hummed into his hair, wrapping your arms around him.

“Yeah,” he replied, because there wasn’t much more to say.

You pressed a kiss to his nose. “I love you so much, you know that right?”

“I love you too,” he smiled, cheeks flushing. And as soon as he’d fallen asleep, you pulled out your phone, and let your friend know that you’d be there to pick Mini at 10am tomorrow.

“It looks like a golden retriever, I don’t think there’s any goldens around here,” Seungmin added, snapping you out of your daydream. He was sitting on the grass by this point, fondling the puppy’s floppy blonde ears and letting him lick his face. You melted at the sight.

“Yeah? Do you wanna check its collar, see if it’s got a number we can call?”

Seungmin nodded, hesitating a little. “I know it’s so bad, but I kind of…want to wait a little before calling its owner. It reminds me of Mini, and…it seems to like me a lot.”

“I know, Min, but you should check all the same. Its owner’s probably pretty worried about where their dog’s gotten to. I’m sure they love their puppy very much,” you reasoned with him, biting back a grin.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Seungmin replied sadly, looking into the puppy’s big brown eyes and rubbing its ears before pushing its long fur back around its neck and reading the fine print on the navy leather. “Huh, that’s so weird,” Seungmin paused, then looked at you with his eyebrows furrowed, a knowing smile on his face. “That’s my phone number on its collar.”

“That’s crazy,” you gasped, sitting down beside him and resting your head on his shoulder. The puppy came and pressed its face onto your leg, and you petted its head.

“The even weirder thing is…” Seungmin paused, eyes bright. “Is that the name on this collar is listed as Mini.”

“Wild,” you hummed. “Maybe he’s your Mini, Minnie.”

“Mini Minnie,” Seungmin chuckled, then looked at you with his eyes wide, and for a hot second, you weren’t sure whose puppy eyes were more dangerous, his or Mini’s. “But is he really ours? We get to keep him?”

“Of course he is, baby. I wouldn’t pull a prank like that,” you giggled. “I’m not that mean.”

Normally, Seungmin would have some kind of comeback or roast to your comment, but he was preoccupied by the pile of golden fur in front of him. Before you could realise what was happening, he jumped up, pulling you into his arms, ran inside and threw the two of you on the couch, all the while being chased by a fluffy blur. You landed in his arms and the puppy sprang onto the two of you, licking your faces lovingly.

“Puppy pile,” he murmured into your cheek, before pressing a long, sweet kiss.

“Two puppies,” you grumbled, feigning frustration. “How am I ever going to cope?”

Seungmin giggled and licked your nose, just as Mini licked your cheek, and you squealed, slapping him softly with your sweater sleeve before snuggling into his chest, Mini nestling on top of the two of you. 

“I love you so much,” Seungmin whispered. “And you too, Mini.”

“I love you too, both my Minnies,” you smiled, body warm, heart even warmer.

[haikyuu-boys-headcanons]

𝙷𝙰𝙸𝙺𝚈𝚄𝚄 𝙱𝙾𝚈𝚂 - 𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚂𝙴𝚇 𝙼𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚂

hehe, i’m back at it again with one of these long ass posts but this idea’s literally been in my head all day long so here you go !! obvious nsfw warning :)

tw: this whole post is just nsfw and embarrassing to read so read at your own risk >:)

𝙳𝙰𝙸𝙲𝙷𝙸 » during a super intense and loud session, his voice cracked as he asked you “does that feel goOD- good baby?” to this day, he still prays that you couldn’t hear him over the sound of your own moans

𝚂𝚄𝙶𝙰𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙰 » you were riding him and he went to slap your ass, but something went wrong either because you were riding too quickly or he was shaking too much, boy ended up slapping himself in the balls. you’ve never heard that boy scream that loud in your life

𝙰𝚂𝙰𝙷𝙸 » literally pulled out in the middle of sex to get up and rush to the corner of his room to flip around his childhood teddy bears. your just laying there with your tiddies and coochie out waiting for asahi to shield the eyes of mr. wiggles

𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙰𝙺𝙰 » you two were having pretty intense shower sex until tanaka did the number one thing your not supposed to do during shower sex; this muthafucker slipped while holding you. long story short, y’all were okay but just ended up having nasty shower floor sex??

𝙽𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚈𝙰 » this tiny ass 5′2 man was unconsciously humping your leg while you were both asleep?? his presumably pleasurable wet dream had turned into a sudden nightmare when you literally had to KICK him off you to stop the humping. bad nishinoya, bad!

𝙺𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚈𝙰𝙼𝙰 » came WAYYY too early inside you, but he was too embarrassed to say anything so he just... kept going. sadly, no one had warned kageyama of the intense effects of overstimulation. he was shaking and whimpering so badly behind you to the point where you had to ask him to pull out and bring him a glass of water to calm down

𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙰 » the first time you squirted on him, he just blatantly asked you these exact few words that left you feeling mortified: “did you just piss on me?” nuh uh hinata, this water fountain ain’t yours to drown in anymore >:( 

𝚃𝚂𝚄𝙺𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙼𝙰 » kei was hitting it from the back pretty hard this time, so hard that you were suddenly... on an angle? suddenly, now you two were much closer to the floor than before. the bed ended up collapsing, yes literally collapsing due to kei’s powerful thrusts. worst part is, nobody got to finish since kei dragged you to ikea to grumpily buy a new bedframe. but hey, he bought you ikea meatballs; that shit hits so different

𝚈𝙰𝙼𝙰𝙶𝚄𝙲𝙷𝙸 » one super duper intense night, he passed out the SECOND he came. no matter how much you flicked the temple of his forehead, yamaguchi was dead asleep. you had to literally slap him awake to get him to clean up, you ain’t risking a ranky stanky UTI puthy in the morning

𝙾𝙸𝙺𝙰𝚆𝙰 » kept calling himself a sex machine during the act. i don’t know if it was due to the 6 tequila shots he had beforehand or just his inner ego revealing, whatever it was it was about to make your pussy close

𝙸𝚆𝙰𝚉𝚄𝙼𝙸 » this one time, he kept going in at a weird angle which caused you to repeatedly queef for 7 minutes straight. every time you told him to pull out and go in properly, he laughed and kept going in at that one weird angle!! was your embarrassment a turn on for him?? maybe!! but were you mortified? absolutely!!

𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚃𝚂𝚄𝙽 » i’m sorry to have to be the one to announce this, but this man had the worst case of full blown bush you’ve ever seen. like, he didn’t even try to manscape or anything at all. you ended up begging him to trim just a tiny bit because you weren’t gonna risk choking on a pube whilst your going down on him

𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙸 » rubbed your left labia thinking it was your clit. and he kept doing that. the whole. fucking. time. even when you subtly moved his fingers towards your clit, he just kept going back to the left lip.

𝙺𝚄𝙽𝙸𝙼𝙸 » had the most dry and dull dirty talk you’ve ever heard. like, it’s not even dirty talk at this point; it’s just clean talk. there’s no passion when he talks! he uses the same tone he would use for anyone else at any other moment. to paint the picture, imagine riding kunimi and he’s just there with a furrowed expression like “yup, that feels really good”

𝙺𝚈𝙾𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙸 » tried to pull one of those unexpected anal scenes that he saw from a porno, without telling you beforehand. life lesson here; if you party at shit's house, don't be surprised if shit's at the party

𝙺𝚄𝚁𝙾𝙾 » you two were looking to get a little more kinky in terms of BDSM, so kuroo watched like 30 tutorials on youtube on how to safely tie you up so you won’t fall or anything. this bitch ended up tying rope knots that were practically impossible to undo, which resulted in you hanging from the ceiling for approximately 2 hours pussy-ass naked while kuroo tried to cut you down with a kitchen knife

𝙺𝙴𝙽𝙼𝙰 » wanted to spice things up with some dirty talk, like the real nasty talk they use in pornos but not the normal pornos; the shitty company ones with horrific acting. he really ended up announcing that he was going to “fuck your fucking fanny off, you twat”

𝙻𝙴𝚅 » got super excited while he was opening the lube since he hadn’t gotten to fuck you in a WHILE, which resulted the lube leaked everywhere and a giant 6′5 man slipping and hitting his head on the bed frame. worst part is; he had to go to the ER with a hard on that refused to go away

𝙱𝙾𝙺𝚄𝚃𝙾 » speaking of boners that wouldn’t go away, let’s not forget that one time bokuto took two viagras when you texted him to come over for a special occasion. he horribly misinterpreted the ‘special occasion’ text, because he showed up to your house with a huge buldge in his pants as your parents stand before him holding anniversary cards, completely horrified

𝙰𝙺𝙰𝙰𝚂𝙷𝙸 » wanted to make valentines day sex as romantic as he could, so he did the classic lighting candles and giving roses. everything was beautiful, until he accidently knocked one of the bigger candles over during missionary. this not only caused a huge ass fire in your bedroom, but he came right as the fire began to spread. boy was debating on whether his orgasm was to die for or not

𝙺𝙾𝙽𝙾𝙷𝙰 » had a nose bleed when he was going down on you and you both were immediately horrified, you thinking it was your period and him thinking he just ate coochie blood. yet as you went to go clean up, you realized his face had much more blood on it than your coochie did. to this day, he still blames it on your period 

𝚄𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙹𝙸𝙼𝙰 » threw you onto the bed and your head went through the wall. he didn’t even bother to ask you if you were okay, he just sighed and went “well, now i have to make a call to the construction guy. excuse me” and he left you and your concussed ass head sit there once again, pussy ass naked

𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙾𝚄 » during a blowjob, he held your head down right as he was coming causing the cum to shoot up your throat and somehow pour out of your nose. by the time he pulled out, he could barely breath from laughing at you. sure, the classic ‘milk shooting out of nose’ thing was funny at first until you got a sinus infection and had to breath out of your mouth for the next three days

𝚂𝙴𝙼𝙸 » always insists having sex in the most inconvenient places?? like he would pull you to side while grocery shopping and start grinding up against you as you pick which brand of cheese would be better??

𝙶𝙾𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙺𝙸 » he kept getting frustrated that his bangs were clouding his field of vision, so he irritably grabbed a hair tie and frantically tied up the sides of his bangs while he was fucking you. you immediately burst out laughing since he looked exactly like boo from monsters inc. 

𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚄𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙼𝙰 » got so drunk that he ended up fucking the couch. like he was just there on top of you, and his dick was just sliding between the folds of the leather couch. you decided to let him finish like that

𝚂𝙰𝙺𝚄𝚂𝙰 » had a really bad reaction to one of the products he used while shaving and ended up getting super irritated down there so he kept having to pull out in-between thrusts to itch his crotch. to make things worse, you joking suggested that he looked like he had syphilis and he got so disgusted at the idea of that thought that he literally had to pull out and take a breather 

𝙾𝚂𝙰𝙼𝚄 » drizzled ‘warm’ chocolate down your chest and was about to seductively lick it off until you screamed in pain and horror as the chocolate was literally burning your skin off. osamu panicked, obviously not knowing what to do if chocolate was burning his partners skin off so he just... frantically licked it off. you still had to go to the ER afterwards to get treated for mild burns

𝙰𝚂𝚃𝚄𝙼𝚄 » didn’t know what a hymen was until the first time he tried to have sex with you. no matter how much he tried to shove his schlong in, it really just wasn’t working + “yer puss is broken”

𝚂𝚄𝙽𝙰 » pinched your nipples so fucking hard to the point where you started crying. he thoughts these were tears of pleasure until you literally had to kick him off you. but hey, he gave you ice for your sore nipples and mcdonalds! what more could a girl possibly want :)

uh the end lol

also, this idea was inspired by the first haikyuu headcanon i ever read, “awkward sex moments” by @bbytetsu <3

[unbridgeabledistances]

hello! <3 once again will not have a new full-chapter update of ✨ian and mickey take over the alibi✨ fic for a day or two, but wanted to post this little fluffy preview featuring the first appearance of our girl bazooka gallagher-milkovich!!! hope u enjoy:’)

—

“Hey, Mick. C’mere. Look at this one.”

Mickey glanced up from where he was elbow-deep in a series of sudsy dishes in their too-small kitchen sink. Once again Ian had made some sort of pasta dish for dinner, with tomatoes and basil and some fancy fresh mozzarella (that he was surprised the little dingy grocery store on the corner even carried)— and even though Mickey grumbled about “fucking gourmet bullshit” and “I’m fine with ramen, man,” he’d still helped himself to multiple scoops of second servings while they’d eaten their first meal at the little circular table from Ikea they’d assembled earlier that afternoon.

Now Mickey was on dish duty— Ian was trying to get the two of them to divvy up household shit equitably, since the usual rule at the Gallagher house was “leave dishes in the sink until they start to smell, then blame someone else for them”; and Ian was leaning back in his chair at the table, scrolling through pictures of various dogs on the websites of the local shelters— when one listing caught his attention.

Pit Bull Puppies, Chicago area NEED HOMES FAST, 8 months old

He clicked on the link—there were a series of images of dogs from the same litter, most of them already claimed. Ian scrolled to the last available listing, holding up his phone for Mickey to see as Mickey strode towards the table, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“Look, she’s got blue eyes. You guys match.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Stop being soft. Gimme your fucking phone.”

This friendly pittie comes from a troubled past and needs a loving home. She was found in a barn outside the city that is well-known for illegal dog fighting along with her brothers and sisters. She isn’t trained yet, and needs someone patient to give her a loving and active environment. She’s a sweetheart, and because she isn’t trained we would love for her new family to give her a name!

Ian saw a crease form between Mickey’s brows as he read the listing. “Sounds like a lot of fuckin’ work.”

Ian could sense Mickey’s hesitation, his gut impulse to immediately put a barrier between himself and this new, fragile thing to take care of, especially after their conversation the other night— but beyond that, he could also see that Mickey didn’t even believe himself as he said it. It was an impulse response, for Mickey, to immediately put up walls— and it was getting easier and easier for Mickey himself to be the one to tear them down.

“Yeah, but it’ll be fun. We can go see her if you want, decide if we think she’s a good fit.”

Mickey swallowed, his eyes still fixated on the picture on the phone screen. “Yeah, but it’s got, like… y’know. Trauma and shit. What if we fuck it up even more?”

Ian smiled. “We won’t fuck her up, Mick. We’ll give her a loving home with two dads and a shit ton of dog toys.”

Ian saw the gentle worry creeping into Mickey’s eyes at the word “dads”—and, okay, maybe that was too soon. Mickey had said he’d be fine getting a dog, and was excited about it the whole time they’d been furniture shopping—but in a weird way this did feel like a trial run for a kid, in a way they were both hyperaware of. There was so much there—this was Mickey’s first real try of taking care of someone that was totally dependent on him, after years of shutting out and pressing down those dark chapters of unwanted fatherhood.

Except it wasn’t just Mickey taking this on; it was both of them, together. Ian tried to show him that, as he reached a hand out to press against Mickey’s lower spine in a grounding touch, pulling him closer.

“Hey. Wanna just visit, to see if we click with her? It’s just a fucking dog, and an excuse to see some adorable puppies.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, then pursed his lips. He stared at the picture again. “Yeah, whatever.”

**

“Thank you so much for coming by—this sweetheart is the last of the litter, I’m so glad you both saw the listing so quickly!”

The dog shelter employee, a caricature of a kind-faced middle-aged midwestern woman wearing a cardigan and khakis, led them through the well-lit hallways, turning them into room filled with scattered dog toys and two folding chairs.

“This is our little meet and greet area, we’ll bring her in just a moment.” She shut the door behind her, leaving Ian and Mickey in the mostly-empty room.

Mickey’s eyes darted around curiously. “This doesn’t look like a fucking dog shelter, man. It looks like a preschool.”

Ian smirked, settling into one of the chairs while Mickey remained standing. “It’s a dog rescue center, I guess. Probably run by lots of people who are way too into the dog thing.”

Mickey shrugged, capturing his lip between his teeth contemplatively. “Whatever. And they’ll just let us take it home? If we want it?”

“Yeah.”

Just then the door creaked open—and in came the shelter worker once more, carrying a bundle of grey wrapped in a worn towel. She placed the puppy down on the floor.

“Like the listing said, she doesn’t have a name yet—but here’s our girl!”

The puppy rose to stand on her four legs— a little grey pit bull, with ice-blue eyes and a too-skinny frame, the lines of her ribcage jutting out through her thin fur. She was tiny—definitely smaller than Ian had realized from the pictures, and definitely smaller than an 8-month-old pit bull should be based on the bits of googling he’d done on the L ride over.

The puppy stretched her limbs out long, then stumbled over her too-big feet slightly to race towards one of the dog toys in the corner of the room. Once she captured it in her mouth she circled back contentedly and flopped down on the floor in the middle of the room, starting to chew on the corner of the bone sleepily.  

“She’s so little.” Ian crouched on the ground— and he could tell he was doing that little baby-voice thing he always did, where his voice went up ten pitches and went all fuzzy around the edges that Mickey always gave him shit for, but in this moment he didn’t particularly care.

“Hey there, girl. You’re such a sweetheart, aren’t you?”

Ian could tell Mickey was rolling his eyes behind him. He reached out a hand to pet the puppy’s fur—it was soft, velvety and warm. Slowly, the dog inched closer and wriggled herself to sit pressed against Ian’s lap, letting the bone fall out from the corner of her mouth and nestling her chin to rest on Ian’s upper thigh.

“She’s a little sleepy,” the shelter worker added. “She’s been pretty mellow since we received her, but we think with some good nutrition and some exercise she’ll have loads of energy. It’s just a matter of getting her back into good health.”

The scrawny puppy was sleeping now, her chin still tilted on Ian’s leg and her eyelids drooping shut.

“Mick, d’you wanna pet her? Her fur is so soft, it’s ridiculous.”

Mickey bit his lip again, staring at the scene from where he was still standing a safe distance away, a few paces behind where Ian was perched on the floor.

“Yeah, guess so.”

He kneeled beside Ian, tentatively reaching a hand out to stroke the dog’s head— almost like he was scared he’d hurt her, like he was scared he’d do something wrong. The corner of Mickey’s mouth ticked upwards a bit at the contact with the puppy’s soft fur— and then he rubbed her head again, giving her a gentle pat. The puppy’s eyelids lazily opened, her tail starting to sweep side to side against the linoleum floor.

“Uh. Hey there.” Mickey chuckled uncomfortably, but his uneasiness was starting to melt away. “Do I gotta, like, talk to it?”

Ian grinned. “You can do whatever you want.”

Mickey ran scratches against the dog’s scalp, then down her sides.

“She’s kinda skinny. I can feel her fucking ribcage.”

Responding to the touch, the puppy lazily rolled over onto her back, exposing her tummy to welcome belly-rubs. Mickey grinned, and reached out to scratch at the puppy’s tummy.

“You’re a pretty girl, aren’t you? That’s right. Yes, you are. Such a good girl.”

Ian smirked—and filed Mickey’s puppy-talk away in his mind as something to make fun of him for later; but not right now, when Mickey was still learning to do this, when the defensiveness and self-judgement had only just drained from his system and he was still second-guessing his every move.

The puppy nudged her wet nose into Mickey’s hand and licked at his palm; and Mickey laughed, almost jolting in surprise. His eyes crinkled as he looked over at Ian.

“This is the friendliest fucking dog I’ve ever met, man.”

Ian felt his lips curve into a smile. Of course Mickey hadn’t met dogs that were this bubbly and friendly; half the dogs he’d had exposure to were chained in Southside front yards, trained to rip each other’s throats out and bark viciously at people walking by. Ian hadn’t really been near many dogs either; but seeing his husband immediately melt in the presence of a puppy, the innocence and awe seemingly radiating off of him, made something warm pool in his stomach.

“Yeah, she’s pretty special.” Ian reached a hand out to try and pet at the puppy’s head, and she turned her neck to nip at Ian’s wrist with her pointy puppy teeth.

“There’s some of that feisty energy we’ve been hoping for.” The shelter worker smiled knowingly. “Are you two interested in taking her home?”

Ian lifted his gaze from the squirmy puppy rolling on the ground between them to meet Mickey’s eyes.

“Mick?”

**

They called Debbie to pick them up from the shelter, since the logistics of taking a brand-new puppy on the L with them without a leash or collar seemed like too much to handle, even if she would probably just sleep the entire time. Debbie had spread an old towel in the back next to Franny’s car seat and Ian plopped the puppy into the middle seat, opting to sit shotgun next to Debbie while Mickey kept Franny and the puppy company in the back.

They were almost back at the Alibi now, and Ian was half-listening to Debbie prattle on about what slobs her new roommates were, and how she had half a mind to U-Haul with Heidi— when he tuned in to Franny and Mickey’s conversation in the backseat, the puppy sleeping soundly between them.

“What d’you think, Little Red— what’s the best dog name you can think of?”

Ian noticed Franny furrowing her brows from where he could see her in the rearview mirror. “Hmmm. How about… Queen Justice? That’s the name of my favorite wrestler. And the name I gave the fish Mommy got me.”

Mickey chuckled, and Ian raised an eyebrow at Debbie, cutting her monologue off mid-sentence. “Wait, you got Franny a fish?”

Debbie sighed. “Yeah. I felt bad about the move, and Monica and Frank never gave us shit like that when we were little. Figured I’d try to be a good mom or whatever.”

Ian smiled, reaching out to softly punch her in the upper arm. “That’s actually kinda cool, Debs.”

In the backseat, Franny was still thinking out loud.

“We have to name her after something you like, Uncle Mickey. That’s what Mommy told me about naming Queen Justice. What are your favorite things?”

Ian twisted in his seat to turn towards Franny and join the conversation. “Probably beer and guns, but neither of those things make good dog names, Fran.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Here’s a fucking relationship quiz then, lover— what’s my favorite type of gun?”

Ian rolled his eyes, contorting even more in his seat to twist and face Mickey. “I don’t fucking know, Mick.”

“A bazooka, bitch.” Mickey ran his hand over the sleeping puppy’s silky fur, scratching behind her ears. “Bazooka Gallagher. Or Milkovich. Or whatever. That’s a pretty good fucking dog name if you ask me.”

Ian felt a smile creep onto his face. Bazooka. “That’s honestly kinda perfect.” He reached his arm into the backseat to reach at the puppy. “Hey there, Baz. You like your new name? You ready for us to take you home?”

Bazooka’s eyelids drifted open, her tail starting to drum against the back of the car seat in a reaction to all of the attention. Franny reached down from her car seat and gave Baz a little peck on the head, and immediately Baz started licking all over Franny’s face, making her squeal and laugh and wriggle in her car seat as Baz shifted to stand on the seat and leaned closer to Franny’s face.

“It tickles! Uncle Mickey, she’s licking me!”

“Allllright.” Mickey reached to scoop the puppy off of Franny, wrapping Bazooka back in the discarded towel on the carseat and holding her like a baby in his arms. He scratched at Baz’s head again, then smoothed down her fur.

“We’re gonna take you home real soon, Bazooka Gallagher-Milkovich.”

[h0rr0rsaxo]

[ Meeting you - DBD simp party! ]

SYNOPSIS; The trickster, and Asher meet for the first time.

PAIRINGS; Ji-woon x Asher

GENRE; Fluff

WARNINGS; Slight violence

TAGS; @ikea-employee

NOTE; Honestly...not my best work. I feel kind of sick right now, so I apologize if this is kind of bad. Also another thing I'd like to mention, is the dbd map featured in this isn't really canon, its just a little one I came up with on the spot because I felt like it.

WORD COUNT; 7,633

Asher set off running, following his fellow survivors best he could, jumping over overgrown roots and swooping under fallen trees. Calling out to Nine, hoping he would convince the girl to actually try to survive  the game, however she noticed the woman suddenly switch directions and without thinking he did so too. In Asher's hurry he tripped over a root, stumbling down and hitting the ground hard before he began to tumble down a steep hill. Unable to stop his momentum he brought his arms up and wrapped them around his head and face to protect himself as he continued to roll down the hill. 

It was when he hit a tree at the bottom of the hill that Asher came to a halting stop, the wind getting knocked out of his lungs from how hard he hit the tree. He took a minute to catch his breath, before he sat up slowly, his clothes and hair had picked up dirt and leaves on the tumble he took and made him look an absolute mess. He noticed that in front of him wasn't just trees anymore, there was a large home now, filled with generators and he perked up at this. This path had to lead to the home, there was no doubt about it. He pushed himself up and onto his feet, about to step out onto the path until he heard large footsteps. The moment he saw the killer he quickly hid behind a tree, holding his breath to prevent anyone from hearing him.

He heard the killer stop for a moment and he couldn't help but slowly peek his head over to look at the slasher. The moment he did, he instantly recognized the killer, quickly he tucked his head back behind the tree. 

"The trickster..." he whispered to himself. Asher hadn't met him yet, but from what he heard, the trickster was one of the strangest killers from the bunch. Which had been saying a lot consider they were all weird. 

The killer then continued moving on in the direction he was originally headed and Asher found himself faced with a decision. To follow the trickster for a chance to go fix one of the generators or go in the opposite direction of him, and wait for him to move. Whatever his decision he had to make it quick. He bit his bottom lip slightly, running dozens of thoughts through his head before slowly peeking his head out again. He made his decision, and slowly he began to trail the trickster, ducking behind trees and hiding behind the small-wooden barriers whenever the male would look over in his direction. 

It had only been a moment where Asher took a breather, and hid behind a tree, before yelping as he abruptly been quite literally, swept off his feet. The hand gripped on to his clothes tightly and was then followed by swooping legs that kicked his legs out from under him. In the blink of an eye, the trickster had flipped Asher under him and placed each knee beside his hips to pin him in place.

One arm came down right beside Asher's head, whilst his other he used to swiftly lean down and press his dagger against his throat. He panted slightly, even though he was clearly strong enough to pin Asher down it appeared like it took all of his strength.

Surprise wrapped within Asher eyes as he stared up at him, pressed down against the ground, and feeling the pressure of Ji-woon's weight against his throat as he used his arm to pin him further.

"Damn…" Snapping out of his momentary trance, his signature Cheshire cat grin carved its way onto his face, signalling this meant trouble. "You're fucking adorable, aren't you? They were right.." he chuckled out slightly, loosening his grip on his dagger.

An immense pink-ish hue spread amongst Asher's cheeks as he was pinned against the ground. He squirmed slightly, burying his face into his hands to avoid eye-contact with the killer. He smirked, gently taking Asher's hand and pressing his soft lips against it. Asher flushed when he began peppering his hand with kisses so soft it almost made him question if he was even making contact. Honestly, he wanted to pull away from his grasp, but he was incredibly attractive. "I'm Ji-woon, by the way." 

"A-asher..my name is Asher.." Asher's mind was desperately trying to connect the dots of what exactly was happening in this strange situation and instead it was just causing a short circuit. This was the weirdest situation…but he wasn't complaining.

“I think I'm gonna let you live, you're cute.” Ji-woon pulled Asher to his feet. His grin widening as he tried to keep his voice steady, and Asher slightly squeaked when Ji-woon pulled him closer to him once again. His hand gently reached up and cupped Asher's cheek, Ji-woon's eyes looking down at his, his thumb gently caressing circles against the soft skin of his face. "Fuck. I have to go, or the damn entity will have my ass. See you around though," He smirked.

Asher swallowed dryly, and nodded as the blush that spread amongst his cheeks worsened. 

—...—

Asher could feel the pressure building inside of him. His muscles are tense, his eyebrows furrowed until they ached, his neck carried the weight of a long day of purely trials. His ribs jab with every step—he knows he’ll have a large bruise there tomorrow—and his hands, shoved deep into his pockets, tremble from overuse. He sulks into himself, tuning out the chatter of his friends until he stands in the comfort near his cabin. Asher rubs his face tiredly, eyes fluttering shut as she yawns in an exhausted manor.

Unknowingly, he tripped over something. The suddenness of this cause him to stumble back, his feet crashing into each other and he fell back with no control. But he didn't hit the ground, midway he hit something else that kept him up slightly. He looked up slowly, lifting his chin slightly to look over his tilted body and meeting the eyes of the strange man he met earlier. His shoulders fell a bit, face twisting into a flustered expression slowly as he watched him smile proudly. "We have to stop meeting like this."

Ji-woon, the man that had caught Asher at the right moment dashingly smiles down at him in his hold. Asher can't help but stare up at him, a warmth seeping towards his cheekbones, his amber eyes were nearly hypnotizing. The height difference between them made him blush even more. He gingerly lets him go, giving Asher another quick smile. Their faces are so close to each other and Asher can feel his heart pounding in his chest. 

"So uhmm, I was wondering.." Asher slightly trailed his eyes off, somewhat burying the lower-half of his face with the sleeves of his sweater, "I know this is kind of sudden..but would you like to…uhm..maybe, join me in my cabin? It's totally okay if you don't want to— I'll totally understand!" 

Snapping out of his momentary trance, his signature Cheshire cat grin carved its way onto his face, signalling this meant trouble. That was Asher's cue for leaving. Without saying anything else to Ji-woon, he turned on his heel, ready to escape the rather awkward situation. However, he didn’t get the chance to even make one step, and he abruptly stopped dead in his tracks, before Ji-woon abruptly scooped him up by his legs, bridal style. For what seemed like the hundredth time, Asher had buried himself within the comforts of his sleeves, attempting to escape his flustered personality.

"You know, inviting a murderer to your house is anything but safe," Their faces are so close to each other and he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. "For all you know, I could kill you at any moment."

After he warns him and Asher instinctively wrap his arms around Ji-woon's neck, he feels an increase of speed in this stranger's arms. Suddenly, he directs a warm smile towards Ji-woon, letting a bright-smile grace his lips, "You could..but, I don't think you will. I trust you."

[jenomark]

➔Pairing: Taeyong x Reader ➔Other Members/ Characters: Ten | Johnny  ➔Genre: Smut (w/ plot!) ➔Warnings: Weight is mentioned a lot | Self-esteem & Self-worth issues | Could be triggering for people with weight issues | Fingering | Vaginal sex | Oral (M) ➔Word count: 4,321

➔Summary: For many reasons, you haven’t had sex in a long time. Though you love yourself and your bigger body, you’re always aware that other people might not. After a bad night with someone who didn’t want to be seen in public with you, your best friend Ten offers to set you up with his friend Taeyong. 

*This is very body positive, but it does deal with a lot of negative things that are very close to reality for most people. I tried to portray things as accurately as I can, given my own experiences. I know not everyone’s experience is like mine. It’s a very honest outlook on having a one-night-stand or FWB relationship while being a bigger girl. 

  Mr. No Name. He hit all the right notes and strokes. He was attractive and mildly interesting. More importantly, he said he didn’t care what you looked like, or that it had been awhile since you’d had sex. His clothes flew off mid-air, and you watched them land here and there. Mistakes never landed in one spot, you thought. They peppered your life like seasoning, and even so, life had been tasteless, as of late. You still found yourself craving the morsel that would poison you.

“Can you give me a moment?” you asked.

  Nameless stretched across your bed like a God, his arms draped out in what he must have pretended was satin. IKEA might have felt honored. When he spoke, he told you to hurry back quickly. He said he didn’t have that much time, but you suspected he was the type to fuck and leave. 

  “Okay.” you said.

  You left your bedroom, not really thinking that you’d just left a stranger to rummage through your personal belongings. You went into the bathroom and turned off all the lights. You didn’t want to look at your body stuffed into the lingerie you carefully picked out for the occasion. You didn’t want to know what he saw when he looked at you. You hated that you were that girl, but old habits die hard, or rather, they come back from the dead and pick you apart until you’re just bone.

  Sex. It never mattered much to you. You would consume it when it came, just a notch above feeling grateful that someone would stick themselves inside of you. You didn’t know if it didn’t matter because it didn’t, or because you couldn’t fathom caring so much about someone that didn’t care for you back. It was easier to skip the hurt altogether and go straight for the parts where you ate the ice cream without the excuse.

“Get a grip.” you told yourself in the darkness.

  It had been awhile since you’d had sex because, despite being happy in your own skin, you were still terrified of someone seeing you naked. It was hell to explain how fulfilled you felt as your own person until a man looked at you and diminished your worth by calling you the most unfuckable person in the room. It was so easy for someone to tear down years of hard work and self-reflection for a two second shame fest by a stranger in a passing car, yelling about your weight, or what you should and shouldn’t be eating. And, yes, you hated that you cared what people thought of you, even after all this time.

 Enter: Mr. No Name. You called him that because he gave you an alias to call him by, and the fake name didn’t sit well with you. You wanted to ask him why he didn’t want you to know him, but deep down, you already knew. No one wants to be seen with the fat girl. You knew you were completely right when you asked him for coffee, and he looked as if you’d asked him to march around town with a parade float tied to his leg. Not everyone would look at the straight-sized man and the plus-sized girl and think negatively, but there would always be people who were still looking. Maybe you didn’t want to be seen as much as he didn’t want to be seen. Maybe you were also the problem.

 Still, you were horny and touch starved. After all, all you wanted from him was sex. That was the agreement. And you loathed yourself for briefly wanting more, for looking at him and his desire for you, and thinking that it could extend beyond the bedroom. Silly you for wanting what some people had. You had to forgive your own poor self-esteem and hope that others would, too.

 When you went back to your bedroom, he had passed out on your pillow. He was hugging the other one, his naked body smooth against the fabric. In his sleep, the prospect of him didn’t seem as scary as you thought. You wouldn’t hold it against him. You woke him and told him to put his clothes back on. 

“So what?” he said. “Things don’t work out. It wasn’t meant to be.”

  You looked over at Ten and felt that he was completely missing the point. It was your fault. You were never honest about how you felt because you didn’t want to bring attention to it. He knew your lingering insecurities as well as anyone, but there were things he could never truly understand. Last thing you wanted was for someone to pity you, or worse, think you’re just making it all up in your head. 

“I want sex,” you said. “I think I’m drying up down there.”

“Dating apps.” Ten said, as if his genius idea would save you. 

“Absolutely not.”

“You have to start somewhere.”

“I’m not a fetish,” you said. “Dating apps make me realize why I don’t date in the first place.”

“If you wait for things to happen organically, you might miss out,” Ten said. “Do people still do newspaper ads?”

“Are newspapers even a thing?” you asked.

  You and Ten looked at each other and shrugged. There were so many things you understood about each other. You sat down and wiped sweat from your forehead. You were supposed to be cleaning your apartment. There was something about deep cleaning that soothed you. And Ten was supposed to be helping, but he was sipping his hot tea and playing around on his phone.

“Can I be honest with you?” you asked.

  It felt like now or never. He didn’t need to know everything, just a little bit where you were coming from. There were sirens going off in your head telling you not to say anything to him. Your big mouth couldn’t stop once you were dead set on something.

“Always,” he said, putting his phone down. “Is this about the date?”

You nodded. “It’s about me, too. I’m..I don’t love the body I’m in..sometimes..other times, I love her. She gets me from point A to B. She makes me feel sexy. Forget what makes you healthy and what doesn’t. I don’t listen to anyone else but my doctor. All I know is that I love myself, from my ridiculous long second toe, to my double chin. All of it. And I think that scares people away, and I think I let them scare me away, too.”

“Was he that bad?” he asked.

“He didn’t want to be seen with me. Before we entered my apartment, he asked if anyone knew he was there,” you said. “ I would have cried if I was any other person. You know, I’m not even mad that he was like that. At this point, I expect that more than I don’t. I’m mad that, for one moment in time, I really expected him to be different. He kept saying how much he loved my body, and I didn’t get fetish feelings from him. I thought, “Wow, he could really be the one. He could be the fuck buddy of a lifetime.” Despite fucking it up in so many other ways, he made me feel like a person. I felt wanted.”

“He sounds like a dick.” Ten said.

Slowly, you nodded in agreement. At the same time, you and Ten sipped your drinks, lost in thought. 

Then, as if he remembered something important, Ten tilted his head and said, “I know a man.”

“That’s great,” you said, dryly. “I know a lot of men, too.”

‘“No,” he said, slapping the table. “I have a friend.”

  You raised your eyebrows. You thought about being sarcastic, but Ten wasn’t paying attention. It was no fun if he didn’t play back. He was excited by his own thought process, the wheels in his head spinning. 

“You just want sex!” he said.

“Correct.”

“With someone who will be seen with you in public,” he continued. “So they don’t kill your lady boner. I know a friend who will do that for you.”

“No.” you said, flatly.

“Why not?”

“I’m not a charity case,” you said. “I don’t want a man to fuck me just because he feels bad.”

“This guy isn’t like that.”

  You wanted to say that all guys were like that, but that way of thinking didn’t help anyone. It wasn’t true. You knew there were men out there who were what you wanted, you just didn’t know why they were halfway around the world. You thought of Ten’s friends, which were also your friends, by default.

“Which friend?” you asked. “All of them are with someone. Besides, I wouldn’t have sex with any of them. It would be too weird.”

“You don’t know him.”

“But I know all of your friends.”

“Not this one,” Ten said. “He’s in my art class. You’ll love him. Come to Saturday’s class. I’ll introduce you.”

  They say fat girls shouldn’t wear overalls. You looked at your tummy in the reflection of a car and pressed your hands against it. Your thighs looked like they were bulging in the little shorts. You shook your head to rid yourself of the thought demons that tried to make you think you were anything less than sexy. Whenever it came to the opinion of men, unfortunately, they liked to show up and rear their ugly heads. You looked adorable in your overalls, and you’d look smokin’ hot out of them.

 You weren’t good at art, so you didn’t know how to dress up, or how to behave. You showed up and stood by a bunch of people smoking cigarettes and gossiping. You thought the atmosphere would be more like the movies, and you thanked yourself you didn’t show up in some ridiculous scarf and a beret. 

“You’re earlier than I am,” Ten said, hugging you from behind. “That’s not something I can get used to. You look like an art ho.”

“What is an art ho?” you asked.

  Self-consciously, your eyes started going towards your reflection. Ten took your arm and led you inside, past the smokers, and right through a door into a cool and brightly lit studio. Ten came every week, and you could see why. The place had a cheery vibe, and everyone around you was smiling and sitting down at an easel. There was food in the corner of the room and all of these prints on the wall that you could look at for hours.

“So,” you said, sitting down. “We just...paint things?”

“Yes, “Ten said. “We get a theme for the day. No rules. No stress or worries. It doesn’t matter what it looks like. All that matters is that you have fun.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re a great artist.” 

Ten blushed. “I try my best.”

  Taking your place and watching everyone slowly trickle into the class, you noticed how attractive everyone was. You didn’t know what Ten’s friend looked like. You didn’t even know his name. You imagined him in your head, building him up like a clay figure. He had eyes and a nose, he was tall and resembled a beautiful marble statue. You looked around the room and realized there were mostly couples, their eyes finding each other wherever they went. Your eyes kept swimming around the room, too, even as the class began. And that’s when you saw him.

“Whoa.” you said underneath your breath.

  He was beautiful. He was tall, like you imagined. So much of his broad shouldered body peeked out from behind his easel. He had black hair, which he swept back from his forehead. He had a smile permanently fixed to his face, and the warmest brown eyes you had ever seen. You physically gulped before nudging Ten.

“Who is that?” you asked. 

Ten smirked. “That’s Johnny. All the girls love him.”

  You were all the girls. You couldn’t stop staring at him. You wondered if painting him would be too creepy. As class began, you tried focusing on the project at hand, but your eyes kept going back to him.

“I need to get laid, “ you whispered. “I need to get laid so badly.”

“Will you relax,” Ten whispered back. “I don’t need you climaxing in front of my class. I think that’s frowned upon.”

  You forgot about Johnny as best as you could and painted the sexiest fruit bowl of your life. You were proud, tired, and most of all, itching at the chance to talk to Johnny. You were thankful for Ten in that moment, so thankful that you could have kissed him. But, your attention was not on Ten. You were thinking about Johnny’s big body slamming you down onto your bed and fucking the still life out of you.

“I want you to meet him now.” Ten said. 

  You stood fast, your knee knocking into the easel. Several people looked your way because of the loud noise. You waved and tried to shake off the embarrassment. Johnny stood too, his face a model of perfection. He was so happy that it was infectious.

“He’s a little too attractive.” you said. 

“Johnny?” Ten asked. “I guess so.”

  Ten ushered you forward. As you were getting ready to extend your hand out to Johnny, Ten kept pushing until you were in front of the easel at the end. A man stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans.

“Hello, “ he said. “I’m Taeyong.”

  You were speechless. You cursed yourself for automatically thinking it was Johnny. The look on your face must have said it all, because Ten needed to cover for you. He told Taeyong your name after fixing you with the longest side-eye in human history.

“Taeyong,” you said. “Right. I’m sorry. I’m just...so..in love with your painting.”

  You looked at his painting. It was chaotic. The fruit were different colors and they were all smashed, the seeds ripped out, and the juices flowing. He had more paint on his hands and arms than what was on the canvas. 

“This?” he asked. “Thank you. Painting gives me energy.”

  Ten put his hand on your shoulder and said he was going to clean up his station. You couldn’t recover from the initial embarrassment, so you offered to go help him.

“It’s okay if you don’t like what you see,” Taeyong said. “I understand.”

  Ten gave you one last “I will fuck you up if you ruin this for yourself” glance before disappearing. Everything in you felt apologetic towards Taeyong. It wasn’t even about him. 

“It’s not you.” you said.

Taeyong laughed. “That’s usually how the saying goes.”

“No!” you said. “Really, it’s not you. You’re wonderful.”

  And you meant it. Though he was different from Johnny and different from what you expected, Taeyong was very handsome. In your mind, you didn’t judge the way he looked because you didn’t want him to do the same to you. You knew how it felt too well, which is why it hurt you that he was feeling that way.

“Can I be honest?” you said. “I think I fucked this up. Ten didn’t tell me anything about you, and I thought you were someone else.”

“Ahh,” Taeyong said. “Imagine the disappointment.”

  You could feel yourself growing dizzy.  You took a seat in the chair next to Taeyong. When you stood, you were a little taller than him. When you sat, your body felt massive in front of his smaller frame. You looked into his face, into his eyes which didn’t look as upset as they should have been.

“I’m an idiot,” you said. “All these years wanting people to censor themselves for me, and I end up doing it to someone else. Can we start over?”

Taeyong sat. He placed his hands between his thighs and nodded. The way he moved was so cute that you couldn’t help but smile.

“Taeyong,” you said. “Would you like to come home with me?”

“Y-e-eesss.” he said, drawing the world out cutely.

  You found yourself back in your bedroom, in a role that seemed too familiar. You were starting to feel scared that Taeyong only came back because of some fat fetish. He had been seen with you in public, had even reached for your hand on the walk back to your apartment, but fear had a way of resurfacing in intimate spaces. 

“This is nice,” Taeyong said, gesturing up at the painting above your bed. “I draw on my walls, but this is much more sophisticated.”

  You couldn’t seem to talk. Your mouth was dry. You asked him if he wanted a drink so that you could have one to loosen up. He said he didn’t drink much because his neck got all splotchy and red. You skipped the drink and disappeared into the bathroom, like a coward.

“We’re here again,” you said to yourself. “Just fuck him al-”

  There was a knock at the bathroom door. You turned on the lights and opened it slowly to see Taeyong standing there. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m good.”

“It’s just that,” he said. “You’re talking to yourself. I talk to myself sometimes, too. Do you want to do this another time?”

  He looked so sweet that something in you just toppled over the edge. You didn’t say no. You didn’t say yes. You crossed the threshold and kissed him, grabbing the back of his head. The kiss itself was so soft and tame that you kept trying to make it more aggressive. Taeyong released his lips from yours and rubbed his mouth. He laughed nervously and looked down at the floor. His lips were red and swollen, his eyes more lustful than before when he finally looked back up at you. He stepped forward and kissed you, pressing his body up against yours. Normally, feeling someone's tummy against yours would make you retreat, but you were so lost in the moment that you didn’t notice. 

“Bedroom?” Taeyong asked.

“Yes.”

  It was Taeyong who guided you to your own bedroom. Your eyes went straight to the painting above your bed. There was a new appreciation for it. When you looked back to Taeyong, he was looking at you like he was looking at art: admiring, questioning.

“You’re nervous,” he asked. “Why?”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone.” you said.

  You and Taeyong sat on the edge of your bed. You were itching to kiss him, but you felt that the questions on the tip of his tongue would get in the way.

“Being nervous is okay,” he said. “But I want you to know that I’ll take my time and make it enjoyable for you.”

  He leaned in to kiss you, his hand pushing your hair out of the way so that he could rest it on your cheek. Your hand was on his thigh. Things started escalating, like you were both trying to one-up the other. Taeyong’s hand was on your breast, trying to figure out the machinations of the overalls. You were rubbing his leg a little too much. He had to ask you to stop or he'd explode. You laid back on the bed and let him hover above your body. Your thighs felt extra jiggly when his hands caressed you. You felt yourself clamming up, and Taeyong sensed it and stopped.

“I’m not entirely comfortable with my body sometimes.” you admitted. 

“Do you want to stop?” Taeyong asked. “We can watch movies or play board games?”

“Board games?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I like games.”

 You wanted to laugh. Taeyong was much different from Mr. No Name. Being with him felt less like a performance. It was like you were being intimate with a friend, only intimacy looked a lot like awkwardness. 

“I don’t want to stop,” you said. “Do you?”

“No.” Taeyong said.

  He sloped down to kiss you. His hand continued moving up your thigh and into your shorts. Having someone's fingers inside of you after not having anything for so long felt like an epiphany. You moaned and stopped kissing Taeyong. Not because you wanted to stop exploring his mouth, but because you couldn’t contain your excitement. You opened your legs and let him finger you, his skinny and long fingers jerking in and out of you with zeal. 

“Don’t stop,” you moaned. “Don’t stop.”

  You came around his fingers quickly, your hand reaching out to grab his wrist. He delicately kissed the side of your neck, double chin and all. You took a minute to catch your breath, but Taeyong was all over you. He unhooked your overalls. He lifted up your shirt to reveal your stomach. Checking to see if it was okay with you first, he kissed your soft flesh. You moved further up the bed so that his face was down below. He helped you remove the outfit, and you finished it off, sitting up on your bed naked and fighting the urge to cover yourself.

“Don’t tell me I’m beautiful,” you said. “Don’t say anything at all about my body. Tell me about yours.”

  Taeyong smiled in understanding. He yanked his shirt over his head and pointed at his scar. The pink jagged line was shiny. You yearned to place your lips against it. 

“A scar,” he said. He brought his hands up his body, his ribs noticeable. Seductively, he brought his hand back down until his fingers caught on his zipper. It didn’t take much for Taeyong’s baggy pants to fall to the ground. He slipped off his briefs to reveal his soft cock. “Can I show you my body?”

“Yes.”

  He was going to come to you, but you scooted to the edge of the bed. You didn’t love the way your body looked while you were sitting, but your attention was saved by Taeyong’s cock. You took over, working him in your hands, and watching as he came to life. You leaned down to suck him, enjoying how he whimpered from the warmth of your mouth. You stopped momentarily to kiss his scar before you were back at it, drawing him closer and closer. Before he could spill, you let him go and climbed back onto the bed on all fours, your ass facing him. The position was easiest for you. You didn’t have to look at men when they fucked you, your fat moving rabidly, and your mind wondering how distracted they were by your body. You waited for him to come to you and thrust his cock into you from behind, but Taeyong didn’t. 

“I want you on top,” he said. “I want to see you.”

  You watched Taeyong lay on your bed, his body just below the painting. He was relaxing in a bunch of pillows, and he was smiling. If you went on top of him, his small frame seemed like it would disappear underneath you. The thought of your thick thighs rubbing against him made you queasy. Yet, there was something so sexy about him wanting you that carried you forward. It was an interesting situation. 

“Are you sure?” you asked.

Taeyong lifted his arms behind his head. “Ride me.”

  You gripped his thighs and climbed on top of him. You were hyper aware of your body touching his. You lifted your ass up and tried to situate yourself. As you did, Taeyong’s hands were all over you. He poked and prodded you, smoothing his fingers over your skin and exploring everything there was to see and not see. At first, you froze in place. You had never had anyone feel your body like that, like a painter painting a canvas. You could feel his brush strokes as you closed your eyes, his fingers moving over your nipples, and the way he touched you when he went between your legs. 

  Lowering yourself down onto his cock, you had to slowly let him in. Every inch was felt, moving inside of you so intensely that every time you moved back up just a little, you wanted to lurch forward in pleasure. Taeyong held your waist and kept his hands there as you rocked over him slowly. 

“I forgot how good this felt.” you said.

  You hadn’t ridden someone since university. It was the second time ever, and the first time with someone you could actually see yourself liking. You tried pushing the L-word thoughts out of your head. You and Taeyong were only having sex, not dating. 

“Faster.” Taeyong said, the words coming out of his mouth surprising him.

  You rode him faster, trying not to think too hard about the way your body bounced, or how it looked. He touched you as you fucked him, his hands getting increasingly more desperate. The way he looked up at you made you feel bold. You pressed down on his chest and started fucking yourself on his cock with a new pace, your body slamming down on him hard. The sounds of your bodies slapping together was loud, and at one point, you slowed down because you were scared you were hurting him.

“No,” he moaned. “Keep going.”

  You fucked him until you came, throwing your head back and riding the wave. Taeyong watched you with awe, even when you didn’t stop moving. You wanted him to come, wanted to finish him off the way he deserved.

“Give it to me,” you said, fucking him. “I want it, Taeyong. Come for me.”

  You pushed your breasts against his chest and kissed him. The moan that broke free from his lips was loud and whiny. You kissed his neck and kept taking his cock until he came, his body stiffening before relaxing. You let him stay inside of you long after he had come, his fingertips drawing love hearts on your skin.

“I was thinking,” Taeyong said. “Tomorrow we should get that drink.”

[hi-hey-haechan]

Truth or Dare in IKEA ~ NCT Dream

IT’S MORE INTERESTING THAN IT SOUNDS, I PROMISE

Part 2 is here

Pairing: Jaemin x reader

Genre: Suggestive, a little fluff, and crack

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: When you guys are having a sleepover in IKEA, you decide to play Truth or Dare. However, the questions aren’t exactly innocent...especially regarding you and Jaemin, and your sex life.

“If you guys trash this place, we’ll never be allowed back here,” you rolled your eyes as Jisung and Jeno were jumping on the beds, screaming at the tops of their lungs. You exhaled in exasperation. You were friends with the manager of IKEA, and he let you spend the night there, along with your boyfriend, Jaemin, and his best friends. Even still, it was a furniture store, and your boyfriend’s best friends were already going through the roof with their crackheaded antics.

You felt a comforting pair of arms circle you from behind, and Jaemin’s hair tickled your cheek as he rested his chin on your shoulder. Immediately, all the tense stress and annoyance inside your body melted away. You couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, lighten up a bit. Besides, I know the best ways to torture them, if worse comes to worst,” Jaemin said, before kissing your cheek.

"PDA, NO WAY!" Renjun yelled at you guys, causing you to flinch. Your shoulders jolted up and hit Jaemin in the chin.

"Ow!" your boyfriend yelped, causing you, Renjun, Donghyuck, and Chenle to crack up. Jaemin was scowling, rubbing his aching jaw, while you were doubled over, overcome with fits of giggles.

Jisung and Jeno ran over to join you guys in the center of the bedroom section of the store. Surrounding you guys were a bunch of really comfy-looking beds, colorful covers and sheets drawn up perfectly to meet the over-the-top throw pillows. Your sleeping bags were also dropped off in the center of the room.

"I'm hungry," Jisung said, looking at Jaemin expectantly.

Jaemin threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. "What do you expect me to do about it?"

"The food is off-limits in the snack bar," you said, just as you had been told. "Let's be honest: if the snack bar was open to you guys, there would be no food left in this entire facility."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Donghyuck inquired.

"Let's play 'Truth or Dare,'" Chenle suggested. “It’s not like we have anything better to do.”

Brightened up by the suggestion, all of you obliged and sat in the circle. Little did you know how...interesting this would turn out.

“Donghyuck, truth or dare?” Jeno inquired, a smirk on his face as he did so. It was already obvious that he was thinking up some mischievous questions, no matter what he picked.

Confidently, Donghyuck replied, “Dare.”

“I dare you to call Mark-hyung while fake-crying and tell him to stop cheating on you with Yuta.”

Donghyuck sat there with a dumbstruck look on his face while the rest of you were cackling like a bunch of hyenas. When Mark actually answered his phone, everyone was struggling to contain their laughter.

He wasn’t a bad actor. He was whining sadly into the phone, going on and on about how Mark didn’t love him and how lonely he felt because he wasn’t there to attack Mark with cuddles (which he didn’t often do, but still). Mark was dead-silent on the other side of the line, probably concerned for Donghyuck’s mental health, which was already questionable, in his opinion.

“Go smother Taeil, instead,” Mark sighed, before hanging up. You all let your laughter loose, and Jaemin toppled over laughing, his head laying on your lap as your giggles filled the air. Your boyfriend’s bright laughter was enough to warm your heart.

“Y/n, truth or dare?” Donghyuck asked, recovering.

“Truth,” you replied hesitantly. You were absentmindedly brushing your fingers through Jaemin’s hair, the soft strands feeling like silk between your fingers.

“What’s the weirdest place Jaemin and you have fucked?”

Jaemin coughed immediately, and your hand stopped its movement in his hair for a second, both of you shocked. The other boys were silent, looking at you all expectantly.

“There are children here,” Renjun said, pointing to Jisung.

“I’m 18, jeez; I’m not a child” Jisung sighed, rolling his eyes.

You seriously considered the question, thinking back to all the weird places at which you two had sex.

“Remember that time you and Stray Kids danced to ‘Love Shot’ and ‘Boy with Luv?’ you inquired, and you felt Jaemin tense, knowing he remembered, too. “Yeah, well, we snuck off into a dark, empty dressing room. That’s why Jaemin was missing when he ‘went to the bathroom’ for ten minutes.”

That memory resurfaced, sort of making you feel some type of way. The way he looked so good in his suit as he danced to Love Shot; the way he had pinned you up against the locked door of the dressing room, whispering sinful things into your ear…

“Look at Jaemin, he’s just glaring at Donghyuck with his jaw clenched,” Jisung giggled. The rest of the boys raised their eyebrows, glancing at you and Jaemin with wide eyes.

“Okay, Renjun, truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to sit on Jeno’s lap for the next three turns.”

Jeno gaped in protest. “Wait, that’s a punishment for me, too!”

“Is it REALLY, Jeno?” Jaemin laughed. He was being unusually quiet, which kind of worried you.

With a sigh, Renjun crawled over to Jeno from across the circle. Jeno yelped as soon as Renjun sat down, “YOU’RE GONNA BREAK MY LEGS, ACK!”

Another fit of obnoxious laughter filled the giant room. “Jisung, truth or dare?” Renjun inquired, scowling.

“Truth.”

“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever seen an NCT member do, that you’ve never told anyone about?” Renjun asked. You understood why. Considering how close they all were, and how weird they all ended up being, it made sense that Jisung would see something that not everyone else would. Plus, everything the NCT members did was funny, really.

“I once walked in on Jaemin fucking Y/n,” he replied, without a blink of an eye.

“I’M SORRY, WHAT?” Jeno asked in a loud voice. If your face wasn’t red before, it certainly was now. Even under the light of your flashlights, you could see that Jaemin’s face was flushed as well.

“I heard weird noises coming from the bedroom, and I thought nobody else was home. But I opened the door and saw enough, so I quickly shut it and ran back outside the dorms.” Jisung’s face had a haunted look on it.

“We didn’t even hear the door,” Jaemin piped up indignantly.

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Chenle rolled his eyes, laughing at you two. “Now we know what happens when nobody else is in the dorms.”

He wasn’t wrong. It had happened multiple times. However, the one afternoon Jisung walked in, you thought you’d heard the door. That was the day Jaemin marked you everywhere his mouth could reach, as well as overstimulate you until you were practically sobbing, begging him to stop. Plus, the risk of getting caught was slightly exciting to you both,

“Next question,” Renjun said, eager to change the subject from this odd topic.

“Jaemin, truth or dare?” Jisung asked.

“Truth.” He sat up, and he immediately embraced you, laying his head on your shoulder. Jaemin casually pressed a kiss right under your ear, a spot he knew was sensitive for you. The others would think nothing of it, but you had to fight to keep a straight face.

“Why do you have a boner right now?”

Jaemin hid his face in your shoulder. You knew he was turned on because he was thinking about the references made to two of your “sessions,” and his mind went a little too far. You looked down, and sure enough, there was an obvious bulge in Jaemin’s skinny jeans.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Jaemin announced, standing up. You immediately pouted, missing his warmth from beside you, and his hot breath against your neck, your shoulder, your ear. “Y/n, you’re coming with me so you can show me the way.”

“We were here last week, Jaemin,” you said innocently, knowing it would piss your boyfriend off. “Remember, we were looking for desks,” and you said you were seeing which one would be the best to pin me up against…

“Well, I forgot, come on.” He was clearly desperate, and as soon as he grabbed you roughly by the wrist, you knew how turned on he was.

“Make sure she can walk afterwards, Jaemin!” Donghyuck called out to you two as he led you away from the room with the beds.

As you rounded a corner, it seemed as though he couldn’t contain himself any longer. With a low growl in his throat, he pushed you against the wall. His eyes were wide with desire, his beautiful, innocent face replaced with a dark look. A dominant look. He moved closer to you, wedging you between the wall and his body. You could feel his arousal poking against your lower stomach as he rolled his clothed hips against you, letting out a low groan in th the process.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” he hissed in your ear. “Having them find out how good I fuck you? Well, they’re gonna be reminded of it again, right now, babygirl.”

[king-finnigan]

these four walls (supposed to save you from yourself)

part 1, part 2, part 3. also on ao3!

~~~

“Stop fidgeting with it!” Triss slaps his hand away from the bandage around his neck. He lets it fall limply as she takes the scarf from the chair, wrapping it around him.

“But it itches,” he whines, fingers twitching against the side of his leg.

“Good. That means it’s healing.” She sighs, letting her hands rest on his shoulders, ducking to meet his eye. “Listen, I know it’s annoying and I know it itches but you’re doing so well. Don’t mess it up by reopening the wound, alright?”

He nods, shifting his eyes to look past her, catching sight of himself in the mirror. There are still some bruises peeking above the edge of the scarf and he can see the dark circles under his eyes from all the sleepless nights – the ones where the nightmares won’t go away, the ones where furious golden eyes fill every inch of his mind until he feels like he’s choking all over again.

But besides that, he looks… fine. Surprisingly and suspiciously fine, even though he very much feels like he’s not; even though he has trouble sleeping and concentrating and the doctor’s words of possible brain damage keep echoing through his head; even though they had to cut a hole in his throat to allow him to breathe, for crying out loud.

Despite everything, he looks… fine.

He sighs, taking his coat from the bed, shrugging it over his shoulders as Triss grabs the duffel bag. “Shall we go, then?” she asks.

One last time, he looks around the hospital room he spent the last week in before he nods and heads for the door. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

---

He has to assure Triss he’ll be fine five times before she finally goes, leaving him alone in his empty apartment with the lasagne she made for him in the fridge and a sad-looking ‘get well soon!’-balloon hanging around in the corner of the living room.

He sighs, dumping the duffel bag on the bed, zipping it open and pulling his dirty clothes out, pushing them into the washing machine and slamming the little door shut. He turns it on before wandering over to the hallway, expressly ignoring that stupid fucking balloon in the living room, shivering as he turns the thermostat up.

He turns around, leaning against the wall and pulling his sweater closer around himself, looking around his apartment.

It’s strange. In all the years that he’s lived here, the place has never felt emptier than it does now. Maybe it’s because he’s still a bit used to the hospital and the people who kept walking into his room to check up on him. Maybe it’s because it feels weird having this big a space all to himself after the small hospital room he was in. Maybe it’s because Triss spent nearly every waking moment by his side and he’s lonely now that she’s gone.

But that doesn’t really make sense, does it? This is the same apartment he spent years of his life being alone in. The same place he decorated so long ago with Ikea furniture and tacky posters and ugly patterned pillows. This is his home.

But then his eye falls on the guitar case in the corner and things make a little more sense.

He walks over to it, sitting on the couch and pulling it into his lap, clicking the locks open. Some part of him foolishly hopes that it’s fine this time around, that it has somehow magically healed over the past few days.

But when he swings the lid open, the spark of hope snuffs out.

He lifts his guitar up by the neck, pushing the case off his lap to replace it with the instrument. Slowly, he lets his hand trail over the jagged edges of the hole in the side, his fingers pressing into the sharp points, splinters burying themselves into his skin.

He still finds it hard to believe, even now. Triss told him it happened either before or during the struggle – either when Geralt grabbed him by the neck and Jaskier had reflexively dropped the instrument, or when the nurses were trying to save his life. No one knows for sure. He supposes it doesn’t matter, in the end.

He strums the strings softly with his thumb, tears pricking behind his eyes when not a single sound comes from the guitar.

It shouldn’t feel like grieving a loved one this much. But it does.

He puts the guitar back in its case carefully, smoothing his hand over the body one last time before he closes the lid, clicking the locks shut again.

He helps himself to some lasagne in the kitchen, leaning against the countertop and idly playing with the edges of the bandage around his throat as the food heats in the microwave. He eats it in front of the tv, chewing and swallowing slowly, eyes glued to the screen as his mind wanders – back to the hospital, back to the ward, back to golden eyes.

He wonders if they’ve restrained Geralt because of what happened. He wonders if he’s playing chess by himself if they haven’t. He wonders if he misses Jaskier. He wonders if he’s finally gone to one of the group therapy sessions. He wonders if Geralt can still feel Jaskier’s skin on his hands the same way Jaskier can feel Geralt’s on his neck.

He wonders a million and one things, letting them drift through his mind like clouds across a clear, blue sky, eyes staring unseeing at the screen, the food turning to dust on his tongue, grating against his throat every time he swallows it.

When he’s done, he turns the tv off, quickly washing his plate and fork in the sink before making his way over to his bedroom. He changes into his pyjamas, smiling softly when he finds fluffy socks that definitely weren’t there before sitting on his desk – he’ll have to remind himself to thank Triss for those later.

He looks at the clock. It’s only seven but he’s already so, so tired, all those sleepless nights taking their toll on him, and he crawls beneath the blankets, turning the lights off and closing his eyes.

He drifts for a while as he ignores the slight itching of the healing wound in his throat, where the doctors had to cut him open to stick a tube into his lungs – his throat had been so swollen he couldn’t breathe by himself and they couldn’t intubate him the traditional way. He remembers waking up in the emergency a few hours later, disoriented and confused, in pain and breathing without the feeling of air wheezing through his throat.

Triss had been by his side – his childhood friend always is – and had told him about the tracheotomy, about the tube and what it meant.

And then the doctor had walked in. Possible brain damage, he’d said. We’ll have to monitor the situation, he’d said.

Signs of brain damage may include being unable to concentrate, insomnia, and memory loss, he’d said. He’d asked if Jaskier remembered what happened. Jaskier had lied and said he vaguely did. With time, the memories had come back, luckily, but that doesn’t stop him from worrying, still.

He pushes those images away for now and loses himself in the memories of strings against his fingers, of chess pieces clicking on the board, of golden eyes looking at him with slight amusement right before Jaskier would lose a game. Memories of soft hums that Jaskier had to translate by himself, of sunlight spilling through the window and casting silver hair in a halo, of the side of a scarred hand touching his.

Scarred hands, wrapped around his neck, golden eyes, furious and boring into his, a voice that used to softly hum growling at him.

His eyes snap open, staring up into the darkness as his throat constricts, panic flooding his chest like a tidal wave that’s broken through a dam. He sees a shadow in the corner – a shadow in the corner, oh god, there’s a shadow in the corner, oh god, oh god, oh god – and he sits upright, quickly turning his bedside lamp on.

The shadow is just his wardrobe.

He sighs, letting himself fall back onto the pillows, looking up at the ceiling as tears prick in his eyes. He wipes them away furiously, hand drifting down to fiddle with the edge of the bandage. The urge to scratch at the wound always gets worse at night, for some reason.

He looks at the clock. Eight. It’s barely even night, though; he’s still got more than enough time to get some rest.

He lays on his side, eyes glued to the clock as he waits for his mind to start drifting again, to find the doorstep that leads to sleep.

He watches as the clock passes nine, ten, eleven, twelve, one, two.

He turns off the light.

Hands around his neck, golden eyes that don’t recognize him, Geralt’s voice growling at him.

He turns the light back on.

A sign of possible brain damage is insomnia.

He groans in frustration, wiping his hands over his face before he sits up straight again. This is useless, he’s never gonna get the sleep he needs like this.

But he’s tired enough as it is already, and how the fuck is he supposed to get sleep if not like this? His eyes drift across the room in search of an idea of some sorts before they land on the chess board on his desk.

He pushes himself out of bed, dragging his blanket along with him as he pads his way over to the chair. He sits down, pulling the board towards himself, hand slowly coming up to reset the pieces back in their correct places. He’s about to take two pawns to switch behind his back when he realizes it’s just him – he’s gonna have to play both colours, now.

He starts with white. Moves a pawn. Turns the board. And, bloody hell, this is really hard. He has to resist the urge not to favour one colour over the other, to make a move he won’t immediately be able to counteract, and he briefly wonders how Geralt can even do this. No wonder he was so eager to play with Jaskier, doing this on your own is an absolute nightmare.

He sighs, leaning his chin on his lower arm on the desk as he contemplates his next move, brows furrowed in concentration as he stares at the pieces that are now at eye-level. He moves a pawn, turns the board with one hand. He blinks at the white pieces, eyelids lingering where they meet for a second. He opens his eyes again, tries to figure out his next move.

He sighs, letting his head tilt to the side, resting the side of it on his arm. His eyes drift shut again. He doesn’t bother opening them again.

He dreams of scarred hands moving chess pieces, of golden eyes glinting with amusement before Jaskier admits defeat, of a soft hum when he asks if they can play another game. His guitar is whole and in his lap. His throat doesn’t hurt when he sings a love song.

---

He wakes up aching, the uncomfortable position at the desk wreaking havoc on his back and neck. He would’ve been freezing if it weren’t for the blanket around him and the fluffy socks on his feet.

He sits up straight, groaning in discomfort as his spine cracks painfully, his neck popping when he moves his head to look at the clock. Six in the morning. Well, at least he managed to get four hours of sleep – it’s better than nothing. It’s better than being plagued by nightmares.

He gets up, dumping his blanket on the bed and shedding his pyjamas as he makes his way to the bathroom. He needs a shower. A good, long one.

He looks at himself in the mirror as the water heats up, gaze drifting to the dark circles under his eyes at first. They’ve gotten a bit deeper over the past night – of course they did. Four hours isn’t enough to keep him well rested on the best of days, so they’re definitely not enough to catch him up to all the sleep he’s lost over the past week.

His gaze drifts lower, still, to the ring of sickly green and yellow bruises adorning his neck, some spots of purple and blue still visible here and there. He raises a hand to tentatively touch at the bandage, picking at the medical tape that holds it in place with his nail. The doctor said he would be allowed to remove it after he’d gotten home and reasonably, Jaskier knows he should before he gets into the shower. Yet part of him fears what he might see.

His fingers tremble when he plucks at the tape some more, slowly peeling it off his skin, eyes glued to his reflection as he pulls the gauze away.

It’s… underwhelming, really. They cut a hole in his throat to push a tube into his lungs and a week after they’ve removed it, the wound is barely even there. Just a small dip in the skin of his throat, an angry red as a thin, horizontal stripe runs across it, a little longer than the nail of his thumb.

It’s there, of course, and it stands out against the pale expanse of his neck but… that’s it. Jaskier wonders what he was so afraid of in the first place.

He’s shaken out of his reverie when steam starts to fog over his reflection and he takes a step back, taking one last look at the mirror before he gets into the shower. He turns the heat way up, letting the water scald his skin, letting it turn as red as the scar on his throat as he stands there, head tipped back, eyes closed against the onslaught, his mind drifting far, far away.

He’s never understood meditation, has never understood how someone can just stand or sit there and do nothing and have a clear mind – his thoughts have always been so, so loud, especially when he has nothing to grab his attention. But here, in the shower, as he’s enveloped by heat and the repetitive sound of water falling onto the ceramic, as he falls into a half-sleep, mind completely empty and feeling at peace for the first time in a week, he understands a little bit better.

He only snaps out of the half-sleep to wash himself when the water’s growing cold and he can no longer control the clacking of his teeth as goosebumps raise along his skin.

He wraps himself into a bathrobe afterwards, padding into the kitchen to grab some cereal. The milk in the fridge isn’t his – it probably would’ve gone bad if it was – and he has to once again vouch to himself to thank Triss the next time he sees her.

He pours himself a bowl and wanders back into his bedroom as he eats, eyeing the chess board on his desk. There are a million things he could be doing, now that he has the rest of the month off to recover, a million things he’s put on his To-Do-list years ago. He could take that vacation to Hawaii he’s always wanted to take. He could learn how to play a new instrument. He could repaint his apartment, go to that coffeeshop a few blocks away, go on an actual date, for once.

He could buy himself a new guitar.

But after years of putting all those things off, after years of longing for time to do the things he wants to do, he finds himself only wanting what he shouldn’t be.

Is he really gonna do this?

He finishes his cereal, dumping his bowl in the sink for future him to worry about before he rummages through his wardrobe, pulling out a soft sweater and some old, faded jeans. He hastily dresses and grabs his things, remembering at the last possible second to bring a scarf – something light and frilly that he bought on a whim from a vintage store a while ago. Who would’ve known it would come in handy someday?

He pauses in the doorway for a few seconds, looking back at his guitar case gathering dust in the corner.

Is he really gonna do this?

It feels weird not to have it on his shoulder, like he’s missing part of himself somehow. He sighs, looping the scarf around his neck, making sure it covers his healing wound before he closes the door behind him with a decisive click.

He’s really gonna do this.

---

“Buttercup? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

He smiles and shakes his head as Triss’ hands come to rest on his shoulders, brown eyes concerned as they look him over. “I’m fine,” he says, softly grasping her wrists. “I’m here for Geralt.”

She meets his gaze, confusion furrowing her brow. “Are… are you sure you wanna see him? Buttercup, he…” she drops her voice to a whisper “he nearly killed you.”

He nods. “I know.” He lets his eyes drift through the common room of the mental health ward, smiling lightly as he sees Dara and Ciri sitting at one of the tables, playing Uno together. It’s good to see the girl out of her restraints. He wonders if that means she’s healing – mentally and physically.

“Buttercup.” His eyes snap back to Triss. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. You’re in no way obligated-“

“I know,” he repeats. “But I want to see him. I want to talk to him.”

Something in her gaze softens and she nods. “Alright. But at least take someone with you. I won’t let you go in alone. Not again.”

He nods. “Alright, fine.”

---

“Knock, knock,” he says softly as he raps his knuckles on the doorframe, stepping into the darkened room, the nurse – Istredd, if Jaskier remembers correctly – following closely behind, though lingering in the doorway when Jaskier presses on.

Geralt isn’t sitting at the table by the window or at the foot of the bed, even. Today, he’s sitting on the side of the bed, back turned to Jaskier, head bowed to look at his lap. Jaskier gets the sneaking suspicion he’s been sitting there like that for a while, now. A long while.

Something in him longs to reach out, to run his hands along the knobs of Geralt’s spine, to press his fingers into the tight muscle of his shoulder, to push down with the heel of his hand and work the tension out of Geralt’s back before running his fingers through those silver locks, gently unknotting the tangles.

And something in him longs to shrink back, to run out of this room and never come back, to forget the memory of Geralt’s hands squeezing his neck shut.

He ignores both and steps towards the table by the window, where the chess board is set up, ready for a new game. He plucks two pawns off of it, switching them behind his back a few times before he wanders over to Geralt’s bed, standing in front of the man.

Golden eyes refuse to meet him.

Jaskier stretches his arms out, a pawn in each fist. “Choose,” he simply says.

Geralt just keeps staring at the floor, elbows on his knees and hands hanging limply between his legs. He doesn’t look up at Jaskier’s voice, doesn’t hum or frown or shake his head or acknowledge Jaskier’s existence at all. It’s just like the very first few times Jaskier came here.

And it’s so, so very different than all those times as well.

The Geralt he met had an air of dignity around him – bordering on pretentiousness. He’d been stoic and calculating and composed, intimidating in a way Jaskier had never seen before.

But this Geralt- the Geralt right in front of him, is anything but. He’s a mess, hair tangled and knotted together, a stubble on his chin and cheeks, back bent and shoulders slumped, the skin of his wrists rubbed red and raw. 

This Geralt looks… defeated.

Part of Jaskier pities him. Another part tells him the last thing Geralt wants is his pity. A different part remembers the feeling of hands around his neck.

“Choose,” he says again, hands slightly trembling as he clenches his fists around the pawns, the edges digging lines into his palms.

Geralt doesn’t look up.

“Choose,” Jaskier bites out, voice shaky and on the verge of breaking, an edge of desperation sharpening his tongue. “Goddammit, I’m not gonna play chess on my fucking own, so choose.”

“Leave.” Geralt’s voice is soft and raspy and deep enough to send shivers down Jaskier’s spine, had he not been preoccupied with the fact that Geralt just spoke to him.

“Choose,” he grits through clenched teeth nonetheless.

“Leave.”

He lets go of the pawns, barely aware of the sound of them clattering against the floor as his hands fall limply by his side, blood rushing through his ears and a light sheen of red covering his vision. “No. I won’t fucking leave.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Geralt tilts his head up, golden eyes briefly meeting his before they drift down to the scarf around Jaskier’s neck, to the greenish bruises that are undoubtedly peeking out above the fabric.

“I hurt you.” Jaskier knows he doesn’t imagine the flash of pain that shoots through those golden eyes.

He scoffs, fighting the urge to lift his hand and reflexively cover his throat. “I’m fine. It was really nothing serious.” Possible brain damage, the doctor’s voice rings through his head.

Geralt stands up abruptly, suddenly so close that Jaskier’s fight-or-flight kicks in, the part of him that remembers scarred hands around his throat growing louder and louder as he takes a step back, then another when Geralt takes a step towards him.

“Rivia!” the nurse in the doorway shouts in warning, but Geralt doesn’t relent, stepping closer and closer as Jaskier backs further and further away. His hands are shaking, eyes wide and breath coming out in soft pants, sweat gathering on the back of his neck as he steps back until his shoulder blades meet the drywall.

The button the button the button the button-

“Rivia! Final warning!” the nurse calls out from the doorway as Geralt’s hand comes up.

He’s so close to Jaskier now, crowding into his space, body heat radiating against his skin, golden eyes boring into his and Geralt’s scarred hand comes up to Jaskier’s throat and the button the button the button the button-

Geralt pulls the scarf away. It floats to the linoleum floor as golden eyes drift down to the ring of yellowish green that adorns Jaskier’s throat, to the angry, red scar in the middle, dipping into the small, barely-healed pit in his skin, where the doctors pushed a tube through to his lungs.

Flashes of regret, anger, hurt and a million other things Jaskier can’t bring himself to identify spark across Geralt’s face, his carefully crafted blank mask falling away for just a few seconds.

“It’s really nothing,” Jaskier says, voice trembling and nearly cracking. Golden eyes shoot up to meet his.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Geralt whispers. He turns abruptly, stalking out of the room, pushing past the nurse to disappear into the hallway – where to, Jaskier doesn’t know.

He stands there for a while, trying to process what happened, trying to figure out what to do next. After five long, agonizing minutes, he bends through his knees to pick his scarf up, carefully winding it around his neck again before he looks around the room one last time.

And then he leaves.

---

Golden eyes that don’t recognize him drilling into his, strong hands squeezing his neck shut as he gasps for breath, fingers clawing at Geralt’s wrists. His eyelids fall shut and everything goes to black.

He wakes up in a hospital room, staring up at the white ceiling as he breathes without the feeling of air wheezing through his throat, a tube in his neck connecting him to an oxygen machine. He tries to move his head when he hears a voice by his bedside, but he finds himself unable to do anything. He can’t shift his eyes, clench his hands, wiggle his toes. He can’t do anything but lay there and try not to panic as the voices approach his bedside.

“I’m sorry, miss Merigold. He’s gone too long without oxygen, there’s too much damage. He’s braindead.”

He hears Triss cry next to him, feels her hand on his and he tries- tries so desperately to turn it around and clench her fingers in his- but he can’t. He can’t even fucking turn his head to look at her.

“Miss Merigold, I’m sorry but we’re gonna have to ask you if you know how he felt about organ donation.”

He wants to scream no, wants to shout out that he’s still there- he’s not dead for god’s sake, he’s not dead. He tries, tries so hard, with all his might and he can’t. He can’t even cry out of frustration, out of fear.

But it’s too late. A gloved hand with a butcher’s knife appears into view, quickly followed by a familiar face, framed by white hair. He wants to sob out his relief. Geralt’s here, Geralt will look at him and realize Jaskier’s still in here and will stop all of this from happening.

Golden eyes drill into his, a spark of recognition lighting them up.

“Oh, hello, Jaskier,” Geralt says in that deep voice of his. “Are you still with us?”

Jaskier wants to scream yes, wants to laugh because Geralt knows- knows Jaskier’s still there, knows not to cut him open.

With an effort that drains him from all the energy he has left, he nods minutely.

Geralt grins. “Good,” he says, before he brings the knife down into Jaskier’s neck.

He shoots up in bed, gasping for air as sweat cools on his skin, hands fisting the sheets painfully. He needs a minute to remember where he is before he can start the conscious process of unclenching his hands from the bedding, one of them gingerly coming up to brush against the spot in his neck where the doctors put a tube into his throat, where Geralt stabbed him in his dream.

He sighs, reaching over to turn on the bedside lamp. He needs to squint his eyes a little to get used to the sudden light but once he’s used to it, his gaze drifts over to the clock. Two in the morning.

Well, at least he got… an hour’s sleep. Great.

He sighs, pulling the damp and tangled sheets from around his legs, padding his way to the bathroom. The water is cool and refreshing against his skin, the sound of it rushing from the tap drowning out the last remnants of the nightmare.

He meets his own gaze in the mirror, meets flat, tired eyes and the shadows underneath them, meets the scar in his neck and the ring of yellowish bruises that still adorns the skin above it, meets sweaty and matted hair and furrowed eyebrows. He looks like hell.

He considers calling Triss. It’s the middle of the night but he knows she would gladly help him through it until the sun rises again, knows she would help chase the nightmares away.

But that’s the thing. If she heard about the nightmare he had – heard that Geralt was in it – she would probably tell him not to go back, to stay far, far away from the ward and try to forget all about him. And she would probably be right to tell him that, it would work and with time, the memories would fade and the nightmares would disappear. Jaskier would be able to live his life without ever seeing Geralt again and without ever thinking about him again.

But that’s the thing, too. Jaskier doesn’t want to never see Geralt again, doesn’t want to never think about him ever again. He wants…

He wants…

What does he want?

He sighs, frustrated at his own inability to decipher what it is, exactly, that he does want. He turns the light in the bathroom off and wanders back into his bedroom, letting himself fall down in his desk chair, leaning his chin on his folded arms as he looks at the chess board.

He wants that. 

He wants to play chess with Geralt – not even with anyone else, just Geralt. He wants to sit in that hospital room with the blinds halfway up and the sunlight illuminating them both, hurting his eyes with how bright it is. He wants to look at Geralt and fiddle with his guitar and play a love song before he realizes his king got cornered. He wants to see that amused glint in those golden eyes, that twitching of the corner of those full lips, that soft hum of that deep voice when he asks if they can play another game.

He wants to remember that every time he thinks of Geralt, not those hands around his throat.

More than anything, though, he wants to make new memories, too. He wants to hear Geralt talk to him, wants to hear what his life’s been like so far or what kind of music he likes or even how to properly play chess – because Jaskier keeps losing and it’s infuriating. He wants to hear Geralt’s opinion on his music, wants to hear what season he likes best and what his favourite colour is. He wants to hear why Geralt plays chess so much, why he doesn’t join the group therapy sessions, what he wants to do after he gets out of the hospital.

More than anything, he wants to finally get to know Geralt.

He nods to himself. Yes. That’s what he wants. Now he just has to figure out how to get it.

He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he wakes up four hours later.

---

“You speak.” It’s the first thing he says to Geralt, the next morning.

Geralt’s once again sitting on the edge of his bed, head bowed and shoulders slumped, elbows on his knees, hands limp between them. It’s the same position as the day before, and Jaskier briefly wonders if Geralt ever even moved at all throughout the night.

Geralt, though, doesn’t look up. Keeps his mouth shut.

Jaskier scoffs before walking to the chess board, picking two pawns – he briefly realizes that the ones he dropped on the ground yesterday are back in place – and switching them behind his back as he takes the two steps back to Geralt.

“Listen, I know you can talk, you did it yesterday. So don’t play coy with me, Geralt. Now,” he holds his hands out, a pawn in every fist, “choose.”

Geralt ignores him. Jaskier can’t help but notice that the stubble on his cheeks has grown, and so have the shadows under his eyes. Did Geralt even sleep?

He sighs. “Alright, listen up, you ass.”

Geralt’s eyebrows twitch together slightly, the first sign of acknowledgement Jaskier has gotten since he stepped foot in the room. He considers it a small victory.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m getting tired of playing chess against myself and I’m tired of sitting at home all alone. It takes me an hour to get here, you know. So I’m staying until you fucking play me cause I’m not wasting two hours every day just to talk to someone who keeps ignoring me. If I wanted that, I’d just go visit my family.” He takes a deep breath, trying to temper the fire in his chest. “Now choose.”

“Why?” Golden eyes meet his as Geralt tilts his head up slightly.

Jaskier frowns. “If you’d rather I choose, then that’s fine with me-“

“No. Why do you come here?”

He huffs out an annoyed breath. “To play chess with you.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Cause I don’t know anyone else who can. Now can you please fucking choose? My arms are growing tired.”

Golden eyes stare at him and a hundred minute expressions shift across Geralt’s face in half a second, too many for Jaskier to identify, too many for him to know what it means in the long run. Then, Geralt’s face goes blank like a perfectly wiped slate, the mask of indifference Jaskier got to see the very first day back in place.

It’s a million times better than the defeated expression Geralt wore yesterday. Once again, small victories.

Geralt’s hand comes up to tap Jaskier’s left fist.

He grins in triumph. “Now, was that so hard?”

He turns around to set the pieces on the chess board, turning it so the right side is facing Geralt’s – still unoccupied – chair.

He could swear he hears a “You have no idea,” behind him, but he ignores it, settling in the other chair, back in his usual spot.

“Shall we play, then?”

---

They don’t talk for the rest of the two hours Jaskier’s there, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. Quite the contrary – Jaskier’s sure that if he had his guitar with him, he would feel inspired enough to actually write music. But alas, his guitar is broken and gathering dust in the corner of his living room. He tries to ignore the pang of hurt he feels every time he remembers.

After a while, though, he loses focus, his ability to concentrate not what it was before… the incident. A sign of possible brain damage is having trouble concentrating. He ignores the doctor’s voice in the back of his head as well.

He announces his departure and gathers his jacket from the back of the chair, hand automatically coming up to make sure his scarf is still in place. He’d kept it on the past two hours, both because the lack of sunshine streaming in through the window makes the room quite cold and because he doesn’t want to remind Geralt of everything that happened every time golden eyes look at him.

He doesn’t need Geralt’s pity. He doesn’t want it either, for that matter.

In the doorway, he turns around one last time, looking at the man sitting at the window. He expects Geralt to be looking at the chess board like he always is whenever Jaskier leaves, but this time, golden eyes are on him already.

“R- right,” he stammers. “See you tomorrow, then?”

A beat of silence, and he could swear something changes in Geralt’s face – something minute, something barely there, but something nonetheless. “See you tomorrow,” Geralt says softly before turning back to the chess board.

---

He actually sleeps well that night.

---

It continues like that for a week or so. Jaskier comes back to the hospital, plays chess against Geralt, they exchange a few polite words and Jaskier leaves again. Every day, it gets a little bit easier to breathe and – at Triss’ insistence – he buys himself a nightlight so he doesn’t have to try to sleep with the lights on.

“Geralt?” he asks tentatively one day, moving his bishop. “Can I ask you something?”

The corner of full lips pulls up. “You just did.”

He rolls his eyes. “Ha ha, you’re hilarious.” It’s quiet for a few seconds. “But seriously, Geralt. I want to ask you something.”

“Hmm.” By now, he knows this particular kind of hum means he’s got permission to go on.

“Why… why haven’t you gone to any of the group therapy sessions yet?”

Something in Geralt’s face shifts, like a shadow falling over his features. A certain tenseness makes its way to Geralt’s muscles and shoulders and his movements are stiff when he pushes a pawn over the board. Jaskier has the distinct feeling that if he were to leave it at this today, the blinds would be pulled all the way down tomorrow – they’re half-raised now. For some reason, they’re always half-raised whenever Geralt’s having a good day.

“You see,” he continues, looking at the chess board without really seeing anything, desperately searching for a way to say what he wants to say without screwing up. “You’ve been here a while and I can’t imagine… I can’t imagine it’s pleasant to be here, all locked up with nowhere to go.”

He looks up to gauge Geralt’s reaction who, after a few seconds, shrugs. “’S not half bad,” he mutters.

Something tight and knotted in Jaskier’s chest unfurls slightly. “I’m just saying, if you were to… play along with what the doctor and nurses are demanding, you’d be able to get out of here. I know my face is a blessing, but you might want to see some other ones, right?”

Geralt gives a noncommittal shrug, but once again something in his face shifts, something sad making its way to his eyes. “Is that why you’re here?” he asks the chess board as it stands forgotten between them.

“Is what why I’m here?”

Golden eyes look at him, calculating and so unsure Jaskier has to resist the urge to get up and hug Geralt. “Because you’re trying to fix me.”

Jaskier sighs, eyes stinging slightly. “W- what?”

“You can’t. You can’t fix me.”

He reaches across the table and Geralt startles slightly when Jaskier cradles one of his hands in both of his, golden eyes flickering between his face and their now intertwined hands.

“Geralt, I’m not trying to fix you. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here?”

He bites his bottom lip, trying to fight back the tears from glazing over his eyes, trying not to show how much Geralt’s insecurity hurts to hear. “I… I wanna get to know you.”

“Why?” Once again, a question so simple yet so devastating.

He smiles softly. “Because I think, Geralt of Rivia, that you’re a person worth knowing.”

“I’m not.” Geralt tries to pull his hand away but Jaskier tightens his grip, holding him in place.

“How about you let me be the judge of that? Because…”

He turns Geralt’s hand in his own, trailing his fingers down a scarred palm before hooking them around Geralt’s. Golden eyes remain focused on their hands and bit by bit, Geralt’s fingers curl around Jaskier’s, who smiles softly and rubs his thumb against the back of Geralt’s hand.

“Because,” he whispers again, “from what I’ve gathered so far, I think you’re a person very much worth knowing, my dearest Geralt.”

Golden eyes look at him, open and sincere and insecure and hurting. “You’re a terrible liar,” Geralt says softly.

He holds that gaze, bringing their hands closer and turning them until he can press a soft kiss against the back of Geralt’s hand.

“Then you should know I’m not lying,” he whispers back. “All I’m asking is for you to trust me. That’s all. Please, just trust that I’m not lying to you.”

A few seconds pass, golden eyes never leaving his even as a million minute changes flash through them, betraying Geralt’s inner thought process so much Jaskier feels like he’s intruding on something he shouldn’t. But he holds Geralt’s gaze and waits.

Eventually, Geralt nods.

[sisterkosho]

Modern!AU Headcanons | Geto Family

Credits: Y'all know the drill. Ayume art in the header by @hiikkups on Instagram. Go follow her. 🔫👁👄👁

Warnings: None today. Just some modern shenanigans for your reading pleasure.

Notes: Y'all also know the other drill. I procrastinate and don't write Ayume's bio, and y'all get some random fic/HC post because I gotta keep y'all fed somehow. With that being said, here's some modern HCs for the SuguYume fam while I work on the Discord, because we were talking about it again last night and it's honestly one of my favorites + another coping mechanism so yEET--

It all started when Ayume Nejireta Geto moved in next door with her husband and two children.

What could possibly go wrong?

Turns out, their elderly neighbor, Rui, was none to thrilled about their house having been built on top of one of her flower gardens. Despite it happening decades before they even arrived there.

Grandma holds a grudge ok.

Thankfully, she didn't scare them off like she did any of the previous families who had lived there.

You get used to her after awhile.

The one person she happened to take a liking to was Satoru of all people, who she met during one of the family's backyard BBQs. Which are always a mess btw, needless to say.

She even made cookies for him.

Ayume and Suguru were extremely confused because of this. How did he manage to get on her good side?

"She never gives us cookies, wth."

Turns out he had been flirting with her. Big surprise.

Though in his own defense, you'd never guess Rui was a grandma just by looking at her. The neighborhood is convinced she's immortal and doesn't age.

Ever since that day, Satoru made it a point to stop by Rui's whenever he's visiting. Just because he knows flattery will get him free food.

He's rarely allowed to visit specifically for that reason. Well, that and the fact that he's just a bad influence on the girls and everyone knows it.

Then again, the family friend, Juno, isn't much better.

He somehow got ahold of the spare key, and will randomly just let himself in.

They once woke up at 3 A.M because they heard rummaging around coming from the kitchen.

Suguru instinctively grabbed a bat and went to go switch on the lights.

Only to find Juno eating out of their trash like a raccoon.

This lead to the girls new favorite excuse.

"Juno ate my homework."

We don't talk about the time he brought a rock over claiming it was his son.

Sometimes they question why they still associate with him, but still let him stick around for whatever reason.

At the very least, he's intimidated by Ayume. So he doesn't cause too much trouble.

The family has a wide array of strange decorations in their home. Most of which they don't even recall buying.

Such as the weird plant in their dining room that sorta looks like it has a face...

There's also the model volcano the girls made for a school project.

For some reason, they had stuck one singular googly eye on it and named it "Jogo".

Ayume and Suguru were understandably a bit concerned, but It's fine as long as you don't make eye contact with it.

Ayume runs a little Etsy shop where she sells stickers she made. Along with some other little aesthetic items like pins.

For designs inspired by various curses, they're surprisingly cute.

The girls like to help her make some of the designs from time to time.

Since it's more of a hobby than an actual job, she always makes sure the money earned from the things they helped with are spent on them.

Shopping trips tend to be the most chaotic.

And that's not even considering the encounters they have with Mahito. The hobo that tends to hang around the entrance.

We don't talk about him.

Somehow, the trips always lead to Ayume running around while pushing the girls on the shopping cart.

Suguru always ends up having to chase after them because plz they're gonna get hurt--

Heaven forbid they run into Rui somewhere along the line, because it only gets 10x worse. She offers to push the cart and ends up almost knocking down every shelf and person in sight.

There was one instance where she ran right over Satoru.

After all that, Ayume and the girls end up making Suguru push them around in one of those carts with the seats on them for the rest of the trip because their legs got tired from running around.

They eventually end up getting kicked out.

Suguru sometimes has to wonder what he's doing here.

"How? How do you get us kicked out of WALMART?"

"Beats me. Hey, let's go to Ikea next!"

They are currently banned from 3 different Walmarts, two Ikeas and a McDonald's.

The McDonald's was from the time Satoru had come to visit and got stuck in the play place.

Suguru had to climb up there to try and get him out, but also got stuck.

Turns out, Rui had gotten stuck before they even got there. Which they only learned after hearing a faint "So. You too huh?" from the the next tunnel over.

In the end, they ended up having to call the fire department to get these two grown men and one grandma out of the play place.

It was on the local news and everything.

The footage had been provided by Nanako, who had recorded the entire incident while Ayume and Mimiko giggled hysterically.

You better believe they were never able to live it down.

After that nightmare, Suguru had tried to make dinner but ended up setting off the smoke alarm.

All he was trying to do was put a frozen pizza in the oven...

Needless to say, it was a rough day for everyone.

Date nights for the couple are rare and reserved for special occasions. Mainly because they hardly trust anyone to babysit.

Rui doesn't seem to understand the concept of children, and it would be a cold day in hell before they'd ever ask Satoru.

But sometimes, they manage to convince Kento.

He's the only one they find trustworthy enough for the job. Because although the girls find him a little boring and strict at times, he's the only responsible person they know.

At least with him, they can rest assured that the house will still be standing by the time they get back.

And on the plus side, the girls love Yu. Because let's face it, he's the fun uncle. So when Kento makes it a point to bring him along, there's always plenty of fun to be had.

Even if it feels like he's stuck babysitting 3 kids instead of 2 at times...

In case it wasn't already obvious, they're one of the most chaotic families in the whole neighborhood.

But that's what makes them interesting, so they somehow manage remain on good terms with everyone.

If one thing is for certain, it's that there's never a dull moment when it comes to the Geto family.

[lifeofroos]

Part 49. Lets be real, things that are free taste ever so slightly better.

In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, Nico tries to find Christmas gifts people he cares about with Will. The rest can be found on AO3 and FanFiction.net! And also in Tumblr tags like Dionysus, Nico di Angelo, therapy etc. 

This Might Be Crazy: Chapter 49: Free chocolate milk

‘And then suddenly it’s Christmas.’ I looked around. New York looked like the Christmas elves had dropped a bag of joy over it. 

Will looked at me. ‘Not to scare you, but the city has been looking like this since Halloween.’ 

‘I try to ignore that.’

Will sighed and laughed at the same time. ‘Sure. Come now, you needed to buy Christmas presents, we should get to buying them.’

‘Yes, of course... hey!’ He grabbed my arm and pulled me along, further into the heart of New York.

‘They really were just too lazy to name these streets.’ 

Will sighed. ‘No.’ He looked at  his phone. ‘It is way easier to find out where the streets are. You just follow the number.’

‘I guess. Which street are we on now?’ I looked around, but I didn’t see a number anywhere. Will narrowed his eyes, while still looking at his phone. ‘If I am correct, we are on thirty-third.’ 

‘Ah.’ I took a step back when two screaming children ran past me, followed by a tired looking mother. ‘We need to go to Jackson village, too. I don’t mean Sally Jacksons’ place, but the actual, physical part of town.’

‘And why is that?’

‘Free drinks at Denny’s.’

Will grinned. ‘Those are always welcome. Also, Google Maps gave me the directions I asked for. Let’s go.’ 

I had to give Will some credit, he chose his boring chocolates rather quickly. Why he had to go to all the way to New York for them was beyond me, though. 

Will handed me a tiny felt box. ‘Alright. We should go with the subway, then maybe we can actually reach Jackson village before Christmas. Here, eat.’ I opened the box. It had two heart-shaped chocolates in them.

‘Will, that is kinda sappy.’ I put the bonbon into my mouth. ‘And I like sappy sometimes. Alright. Can we get out of the subway a few stops earlier than necessary? I am not entirely sure what to get people, so I want to see a few shops.’

‘I mean, I was thinking of going to a dollar store to buy things for the Camp gift exchange, and we could go to an outlet if you wanted something for Reyna, Hazel or Percy…’

‘Hm. For camp a dollar store is good, and maybe I can even find some fun things for my friends as well. For Hazel I already bought a knitted raccoon hat, though. And I will not buy your present while you are standing right next to me.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Perhaps.’ 

‘Alright. Come, I see a subway station over there.’ 

Even though they are probably the grossest and busiest places in New York, I kind of liked the undergrounds. Kind of stupid, but well, they were under the ground.

We got out and went up to street level again. Lo and behold, there was a dollar store right across the street. 

‘I always wonder how they can stuff even more garbage into stores like those then they can into IKEA,’ I thought out loud, while we crossed the street. Will shrugged. 

‘Talent, I guess.’  

‘Talent? Oh, what. At least I will be able to find something Percy will go absolutely insane for that costs me nothing more than a measly dollar.’

‘Last time I was in the dollar store, they had dolphin shaped candy boxes.’

‘If they have those again, I’ll take two. Otherwise Percy will complain that his dolphin-shaped candy box is lonely.’

Maybe it was all trash, but it was easy trash. Packed with presents for almost everyone we cared a little or slightly more than a little about, we got out of the dollar store. 

‘So, that was quite productive,’ Will mentioned. He was carrying the plastic bag with our stuff. 

‘Yes.’ I looked around, at the other stores. Somewhere, they were bound to have something.

‘What I did not say before is that I am actually looking for something for Dionysus. I do not know if he celebrates Christmas, but I do know it is his birthday.’

‘The 25th of December?’

‘Yes.’ 

‘So, basically, Jesus just took over his birthday?’

‘Yes. I don’t know how he feels about it.’ Maybe I’ll ask. 

Will hummed. ‘I think it is pretty difficult to find something for a god, though. That being said, I do think Dionysus will be happy no matter what.’

‘Maybe...’  

‘Oh, here is a thrift store!’ Will pointed . We stopped walking. ‘Do you mind if we go there for a second? I need something they might have there.’ 

‘Are you entirely sure what that thing is?’

‘You never do with thrift-stores.’ I sighed. 

‘Yeah, true.’ I wrapped my arm around his waist while we went in.

It was a pretty big thrift store and it clearly didn’t just sell regular mortal junk. I wandered off, while Will searched through the old books. 

I ended up in the jewelry section. It looked as if both an old grandma and her six year old granddaughter had just given away all of their jewelry. All I saw was ancient-looking pearl necklaces and pink fairy rings. 

I looked in a few drawers of an old cupboard. It was all clearly not worth much, otherwise it would not be laying out in the open, but it sure looked shiny. 

In one of the drawers, I found an earring. I could not find its better half, but it did look a lot like something Will had shown me that he wanted to buy but could not find anywhere. 

I let it roll from one hand into the other. Was it dangerous to gift your boyfriend jewelry from a thrift store that radiated weird energy? Maybe. But the earring itself did not do so. 

I dug slightly deeper, looking around for more stuff the people who were worth more than dollar store gifts would appreciate. Now that I took a good look at it, the jewelry cabinet was kind of a goldmine, no pun intended. I even found a small, gold necklace for Reyna (Probably fake-golden, otherwise it would not be lying around in a random cabinet-drawer, but still). 

Eventually, I looked up and saw a small glass cabinet. There was a brooch on display that made me unable to stop looking at it. I did not recognise the gemstone they used, if it was even a real gemstone, but it was a deep purple. The brooch was shaped like, vines running past and over each other. 

The thing cost only five dollars. It was as if the universe was pushing me to get it (But I could have imagined that).

In the background, I heard Will say something to the seller (Who did not sound entirely like human to me). Slowly, I walked past the shelves, hoping I could somehow buy what I wanted without Will noticing. 

After a few seconds, I felt a tap on my shoulders. I turned around. There was a second not-entirely-human seller standing behind me.

‘You want what you are currently holding and the purple brooch without your boyfriend over there noticing , is that right?’ He asked, in a coarse voice. 

‘Eh, yes,’ I whispered.  

The seller grinned. ‘I get it, youngling. You saw the prices. Twenty dollars and it is all yours.’

I had no idea whether those were the actual prices, but twenty dollars was not super expensive, so I handed it to him. He unlocked the glass cabinet, got out the brooch, I put everything into the pocket of my coat and joined Will again.

The seller, who Will was just done with, looked exactly like the seller I had spoken to had. Will grabbed my hand and we walked out. I looked over my shoulder as Will opened the door. The seller winked at me.

‘Sad that you did not find anything ,’ Will said, while we made our way over to Denny’s.

‘Oh well,’ I answered, while I squeezed his hand. 

‘Nico!’ Mary smiled widely when she looked at us. ‘Is that your boyfriend?’

‘Yes!’

‘Well, he is adorable.’ She winked and gave us two free hot chocolates. ‘As promised.’

I was not above getting free hot chocolate, so I thanked her and we sat down one booth further from the booth I usually sat with Dionysus. The Denny’s was busier around this time. 

Will looked around. ‘There is a Dionysus-vibe here.’

I nodded and took a sip. ‘Oh yes. There always is.’ 

Will smiled and pulled his legs onto the couch. ‘I think that was a productive day, Nico. I think I’ve got almost everything I need. ’

‘Me too.’ I grinned, which left Will eyeing me suspiciously. 

A/N: Fun Fact: there are barely any subways in the Netherlands. We have busses, trains and trams (In some cities), but no subways. 

It has never been academically proven that the 25th is Dionysus birthday. There is no proof whatsover. Don’t go around quoting me on that, because it is a Tumblr thing, NOT PROVEN!

Aside from maybe a little general magic, the jewelry is not cursed. Just calming you down there. 

Tell me how do you all see Dionysus? Because during writing I have constantly had the young, mythological version in my head. Long black hair, purple eyes, frail, basically not what Rick Riordan described. That is why I have been calling him Dionysus and not Mr. D, because that ain’t him to me. 

This isn't really a therapy chapter but shhh it shows Nico is healing.

[likeawildthing]

in terms of design advice, any ideas for a broke college student apartment room? 💕💕

college is a weird time because you are kind of a grown up but also definitely not! and your interests and tastes will change so rapidly in the next few years. so honestly it’s a great time to experiment and be creative. this advice all depends on your particular space, but in any small space everything that can be double duty, should be double duty (night stand is also a tv tray/laptop tray, art is also bulletin board or jewelry holder), the more uses you can get out of something, the better! going vertical on the walls where you can get away with it is amazing. here are a few easy and cheap ways to upgrade and some basic design principles:

take this design quiz to find out your style (plug in a fake email) and then google or pinterest away. you’ll see repeat themes (for ex. major bohemian trend is macrame, which easily DIYable, or MCM is all about legs and clean profiles). maybe that would be fun post - to highlight different styles and trends. but here are some upgrades that translate to any design style for cheap:

PLANTS

don’t go to a nursery and drop a hundred dollars you don’t have. a plant or two or three you really love will change the vibe of the whole space, and give you something to take care of, which is ofc good for your mental health. tips for getting plants and planters on the cheap!

think of a relative or friend who already has houseplants and ask for free ones next time they’re splitting. i literally did my entire garden this way in my first place. 

look on like FB marketplace or whatever your swap site is because people are often selling plants or cuttings for a discount.

i have literally split the cost of a plant with a friend and then split it in half, like a baby before Solomon

pothos plants of any kind are easy to take care of and can split into smaller plants pretty regularly.

succulents are usually a few dollars at the store and everyone loves them! start with one simple succulent.

herbs! if you get herb garden seeds or plants you literally make what you eat!

if you have pets, make sure they are pet friendly.

i do not spend a lot of $$ on planters! i use terra cotta because 1. they’re cheap as hell and 2. cute! some of my favorite planters are terra cotta pots kristina painted for me! you can also thrift pots, which i would encourage, or reuse food containers by putting small holes in the bottom. 

create hanging plants by making yarn macrame holders! youtube is your friend on this! you can get a ceiling hook for like $3 if it’s a solid ceiling (drywall) and super easy to patch up when it’s time to leave.

ART

function + form. something organic that you can change out inspiration or art, like a cork or inspiration board (look on like a varage sale or in a thrift store for this).  you can get four12x12 cork boards from target for $7 and create something like this from two of them, which is in and of itself a piece of art (and you can take it down w/out damaging walls)

other cheap things i have done for art:

calendar or magazine pages in thrifted frames  (my favorite cheap tricks is to get matte black or white craft paint for $1.25 from wm or target and paint a bunch of odd frames to unify them)

a picture ledge like this from ikea is your best friend because you can interchange the art to be whatever you want!

embroidery hoop fabric bulletin boards

seriously, posters are cool. get a cheap poster online and hang it with washi tape. it’s not precious. if you want something more grown up, try to thrift a frame for it for cheap. if you don’t like the color of the frame, paint it! if you can’t hang something heavy like this on the wall, use command velcro strips OR set it on top of a dresser or bookcase and lean it against the wall.

i love tassels and buntings. just google either of those and you’ll get thousands of cheap ideas. in my last bedroom i just had a bunting i cut and made over my bed and it acted like a bedframe and i loved it.

just free prints from the internet hung up with little clips like this ($2 from target) or bulky push pins – those holes are so easy to patch!

when my kids were little until two weeks ago i had an entire wall covered with their artwork. i’m saying maybe go to the thrift store, get some ugly canvases with your friends, and have a painting party. everyone brings a $4 thing of acrylic paint and a brush and have a party. good memories + new art for everyone. swap at the end!

pictures! actually print out those pictures and tape them to the wall with washi tape. you can also do something like this with push pins for as big or small as you want to make it (i have this in my living room

here’s a proper primer on the 7 elements of design, but you can skip that and go here if you want!

BALANCE

white space and focal points. in the same way that you need to break up one massive wall of text into digestible paragraphs, you also need to break up the focus in your room. a FOCAL POINT is a statement area in your room (i.e. the window, over your bed, your desk) that your eye is drawn to, and where you want your eye to be drawn to. ideally rooms should have ONE focal point (that’s like the adverb room for writing) but in a dorm apartment, that isn’t practical because it HAS to be multifunction. the important takeaway is that white space on your walls is okay, and important. it gives you a soft space to land, visually, which is important in making you feel more relaxed and even productive.

groupings – grouping like with like makes great sense organizationally AND design wise. a collection of postcards will look amazing on the wall together rather than spread around the room. 

LAYERS

adding layers can make a space feel luxurious – curtains, rugs, extra throw pillows or an extra blanket on your bed or chair. plants are great for this, but fabrics and baskets can add another layer. these can be pricey so i would a. raid your mom’s house if that’s an option and ask if she needs ‘x’ rug or curtains anymore. you can also thrift curtains for cheapppp or even look for clearance fabric – once you wash the curtains they really are safe to use. clearance frabric can be hemmed without being sewn and hung with curtain rings if you need to. and $5 tension rods can work as a curtain rod inside a window frame if needed. i could do a whole post on this but a cheap rug next to your bed and something soft on a window can do wonders!  dude i have also bought cheap cotton weave cloth from walmart and used rit dye to make turqoise curtains and i loved for years. see also: RIT DYE

so decorative pillows are expensive as HELL but regular, cheap pillows are like $4. i get cheap fabric or thrift fabric and sew my own, which you could do by hand, really, and use the pillow stuffing to make it. ikea also sells great cheap pillow covers! 

COLOR

gosh there are no hard and fast rule here but here is a great primer series on color theory for design that you can translate to your room

simplifying a color palette will feel more calming to you, and so will using cool colors like blues and greens. but again, no hard and fast rules. repeat a color or element (shape, pattern) throughout a room 3x (ex. i have a blue rug and that same blueish tone is in a chair and also on a bookshelf. they don’t have to be the same blue, just color family, and it makes it all seem more intentional)

HOW TO DO IT CHEAPLY

buy secondhand. there are entire thrift makeover and upcycle youtube channels that are amazing! same for diy blogs. 

reuse and repurpose what you have. i turned a dvd player box into a toy oven for my kids and they used it as a play kitchen for four years. my bookshelf that stores our games in my living room was $12 from salvation army - i just painted it and added casters for $15. my dresser was a thrift from the REstore, a habitat for humanity store. my end tables are actually butcher block pieces that were in my dad’s factory for forty years. i love bringing old things back to a different life. and you don’t always need a ton of tools to do it.

barter and trade. i traded a one of my kid’s dressers for the hutch that holds our toiletries outside of our upstairs bathrooms. 

sell and repurchase something that works for you. i sold my old bookshelves on fb marketplace and bought another that actually works better. this isn’t applicable to everyone!

make muffins for someone in exchange for their sewing skills or knowledge. i’m teaching my friend to sew right now! libraries often have classes and such to learn new skills.

OK so i have rambled enough. i could ramble more. i hope this gets you started and if you have more specific or follow up questions, on this or organization side of things, let me know! remember these are all just guidelines and the most important thing is having a space you love, that makes you feel comfortable and that you’re proud of and happy in. comparing yourself to others isn’t always the best and you can make it a space you love no matter where you are. 

[bellasharifuddin]

The Day I Became a Mother

It’s been a while since I last post anything here, typing feels awkward as well. But this has always been a thing that I wanted to do since the day I’ve given birth, to document and blog about my pregnancy and my birth journey, so in 4-5 years to come when my memories fade, I can always come back to reminisce every detail that I keep here, like a memory capsule. 

The Day I Found Out I Was Pregnant. 

You know, when people say that when you have a strong intuition about something, trust your gut feeling, because it’s often true. Mirin and I have always talked about having kids, me wanting a baby so much within months after we got married, however, Mirin having second thoughts about it. We were both married for less than a year, sleeping on a toto without a mattress or a bed, living in the deep slum of Wangsa Maju area where the rats are larger than the cats. Hahaha. Naturally, given our circumstances, he’d want to take things slow. 

Fast forward to a couple of months, we went out for some steaks and karaoke on a weekend night. I told mirin to stop by Watsons, for me to buy a pregnancy test kit. Mirin didn’t question much, because occasionally I would randomly buy one, just for fun. But this time, I didnt just get one. I ended up buying three. Why? Because somehow, I had a strong feeling this time. I just felt... weird. It was a feeling that I can’t put it into words. 

We came home at midnight, I went to the bathroom too “pee on the stick”. Then I saw the first line... a few seconds later comes the second one. Oh my god. Okay. I knew Mirin was standing outside the toilet door, waiting. Eventually, I had to break the news to him. When I showed to Mirin, we both ended up hugging and crying. Was I happy? Was I in shock? Was I sad? Yes, a little bit of everything. Its funny that all you’ve wanted was a baby, then when it actually happens, suddenly you’re freaked out. Happy that its a blessing. Sad that it hits you without a warning. 

                                                      Pregnant!

When the morning sickness finally kicked in, I knew we couldn’t live in the current house. Its not the best place to raise a child. And the next-door neighbor was having major renovation that was super loud and noisy. After sleepless nights and searching for a new place, we eventually moved out. Bought our first bed, bought our first dining table, bought our first gas stove. A many of firsts. Soon we finally bought a baby cot from Ikea. We bought it too early. Although it was too early to put it up, but Mirin assembled it anyways. I could tell that he was excited. It was such a fun and exciting moment, for the both of us.

But those were the fun part. Like most pregnancies, the not so fun part about being pregnant was me being diagnosed with Pregnancy Hypertension during my 36th week of pregnancy. My blood pressure spiked up to 140/100 on two consecutive readings, and the next thing I know, that I’m sitting in an ambulance, on my way to Hospital Kuala Lumpur’s emergency building. 

                     At Hospital Kuala Lumpur. Waiting for an available bed

                  Mirin bought me the entire family mart food available xD

I spent 3 nights in their maternity wards, finally discharged after the doctor told me that I was clear to go. While I was in the hospital, it pains me to see new mothers struggling during the COVID19 pandemic. Throughout your stay, no visitations were allowed from anyone including your husband. If your baby cries or if you’re in pain, you’d have figure it out yourself. I remember praying to god while crying that I do not want to be induced there. The ward was stuffy and hot. There were too many people crammed in a room. It was hell. 

The Day That I Give Birth

One week after my discharge, we both went for my monthly checkup with my OBGYN at Pantai. Again, my doctor advised me to be induced tomorrow, since my blood pressure spiked again, and I was almost full term (38 weeks) so it was okay to go. She told me that “It’s best to get the baby out or else you boleh kena sawan” OMG Okay okay. So we packed our bags, ate sushi for dinner, slept soundly for the very last time, and headed to the hospital again at 9 am the next morning. 

                         Induction day. We definitely overpacked haha

       Arrived at the hospital lobby, did a mandatory swab test before entering

Appointment card. Booked and paid for the accommodations prior to checking in

I was told to change into my labor robe (I’m not too sure what it’s called), and waited. When my doctor finally arrived, she then began to insert some sort of a plastic strip deeeeeep into my cervix. Ouch, that hurts. Okay, so that’s how induction works eh? Then I was given antibiotics into my IV drip too, since I was GBS (Group-B Strep) Positive as well. 

                                Toilet selfie! Calm before the storm

After an hour, I felt the contraction. Initially it was uncomfortable, then it hurts like hell. The contractions felt like period pain but like a million times worse. Occasionally, Doctor Haslinda would come and check on my “bukaan”. Hours passed. 1cm... 2cm... 3cm.... when I finally said:

“Omg sakit sangat dah tak tahan, I want an epidural!“

Ok no, that was a lie. I initially didn’t want to take an epidural. I wanted to try and bear with the pain, but Mirin convinced me to take it, so after tossing and turning like a dying fish I finally said okay. 

The anesthesiologist came after what felt like an eternity, and asked me to sign a consent form. I’m not really sure what was written in that. Siapa je ada masa nak baca terms and conditions panjang panjang bila tengah contractions??? 

He told me to sit on the edge of the bed, while hugging a pillow. I remembered him injecting some numbing spray, then I felt the BIG NEEDLE poking through my spine. Then.. that was it. It was so fast. The entire process took only 5 mins. Was it painful as I thought it would be? No. Was it still scary tho? Yep hahaha.

Soon after, Dr Haslinda pecahkan air ketuban when I was 4cm dilated. It didnt hurt because I was on epidural, but I felt so much warm liquid flowing out non-stop. So bizarre. 

Once you’re on epidural, you’re basically bed-ridden. No bathroom trips anymore, my legs feel like jelly. Sometimes the nurse will come to empty my bladder with a catheter. When the epidural kicked in, I could finally sleep. I slept like a baby. I slept for hours. Painless. No more feeling like a dying fish. And so I thought.............

3am. I woke up with INTENSE CONTRACTION PAIN. Why is it so painful? I thought I’m on epidural? I called the nurse straight away. Turned out the epidural drug ran out. It was sooo stressful because the nurse that was on duty that night didn’t know how to topap balik the epidural drug into the machine. She called her colleague, then the colleague also tak tahu. Then both of them spent like forever to troubleshoot how to use the machine, sampai lastly kena call doctor tanya. YA ALLAH, rasa macam nak maki je. 

7am the next day. Bukaan baru 7-8cm. Doctor decided to use another form of induction to speed up the process. It’s called pitocin, and injected through my IV drip. Within MINUTES, I could feel very intense and painful contractions, that the epidural can’t even help. So throughout the remaining 7cm to 10cm, I felt every inch of real labor pain. I clenched Mirin’s hand. So tightly that I think it got bruised. A minute felt like an hour, and an hour felt like years. It was soo bad that my memory was so fuzzy. 

Finally, it was 10cm. Time to go. They put both of my legs up, macam gambar bawah ni haha: 

                                      Picture courtesy from Google

There were two nurses, one small cute Malay nurse, one pregnant Indian nurse, and my OBGYN, Dr Haslinda. I love them all, they were so supportive and nice to me throughout my labor process. My doctor taught me how to push correctly:

“Take a deeeeeeep breath then tahan, clench your fists, chin down and teran macam nak berak sekuat-kuat hati“

I was so determined to get the baby out. I just wanted the contraction pain to end. I did everything they told me to do. I hold on to Mirin’s hand, and PUSHHHHHHHEDDDDDD! I could hear Mirin saying “You’re doing great sayang!” After several pushes, and some sips of water breaks, the baby’s head is almost out. The head was the hardest to push. Besar! I literally felt like my down there was stretching to its limit. Once the head is out, I did another small push, and the rest of the baby’s body macam keluar instantly macam super slimy like that haha. 

Finally the baby is out! 8.26AM! The contractions stopped immediately. I instantly feel like I wasn’t pregnant anymore. The doctor then injected something on my thigh, then my uri just popped right out haha. My body felt so tired, but so so light. Lega, yay no longer pregnant haha. I ended up having second degree perineal tear without an episiotomy, and was stitched. I felt the benang, ngilu. I felt the needle pierced through my muscles too. But it didnt hurt so it wasn’t too bad. 

The baby gets cleaned up. Then soon all of the nurses left the labor room, it was just me, Mirin and our baby. Mirin picked her up, and azankan. Mirin started crying, I cried too. It was magical :’)

We did skin to skin and tried breastfeeding for the first time. As I look at her, hair was so thick. Her cute little fingers. Her beautiful face. She’s perfect. 

                            I slept for 5 hours straight after the labor

Thinking back, I have no idea how I managed to muster such courage to go through all these. Mirin even told me that during the active labor stage, when I was pushing, at one point I pushed so hard that my entire face turned blue. Talk about adrenaline.

Do I want to have another baby? Well, lets keep a rain check on that question for another few more years to come xD

[itsbeenclaireified]

My weekend was...a trash fire.

I debated not posting about this, partly because I was waiting for an update and now I have one. Partly because I was so angry/hurt/etc I was like...should I even post? So here was my difficult weekend (or should I say Friday?)

I took Friday off just to have a 3 day weekend and forgot it was the weekend my grandpa was getting his kitten, and back before I had MY cat I had agreed to go. So I was like what the heck, I should be a good granddaughter and see my 88 year old grandfather because I can go to ikea and try the bakery I wanted to try any old day.

Man, if I only knew.

Flash forward 4 hours in the car, we brought my grandpa his Maine coon kitten! His name is Goliath and he’s very sweet

Do I have PTSD from when Goliath went under the recliner and when we used the remote to lift up the leg rest I saw him start to get pinched? Yes. Literally gives me anxiety thinking of it. But Goliath settled into his lap cat lifestyle right away and we lectured my grandpa about watching the kitten before actuating the recliner. So hopefully that will be fine.

The rest of the evening passed in usual fashion: arguing about whether government regulation ruins things or not. This time concerning dry cat food, and whether or not my grandpa should feed his kitten only raw carp fish. And mostly those conversations are hard because there is a lot of contradictions (ie it’s bad there’s “no regulations” on cat food, but it’s fine when it applies to human supplements and vitamins).

The real trouble came when my grandpa decided that he didn’t want his cat Pumpkin to come inside even though she was crying to come inside. Since my grandma passed in January my grandpa has trained her to be a cat that gets let out when previously she just stayed inside. And it has since been explained that maybe my grandpa was afraid that Pumpkin would hurt Goliath, because she hissed at him. But I saw their interaction and it seemed...fine? She didn’t growl and then she just went an slept on a side table.

But my grandpa wouldn’t let us let her in, and it felt really weird to do that? And it was really cold outside. We basically had to walk her away from the car because she was rubbing against our legs, and then she left her to go to the apartment we were staying at. And my uncle didn’t turn on the heat so it was 45 degs when we got there, and we basically spent an hour shivering in our jackets and my dad worrying about Pumpkin outside.

So we made the rash choice to go find Pumpkin and drive back to Minneapolis (3.5 hours in the car without a carrier, at 11 pm at night). And we found Pumpkin right away hunkered down in a window well behind the house, and then we started the longest drive back to Minnesota with a crying cat that was sitting in my lap but also meowed for most of the drive. It was also a silent drive and we were all having our silent angry thoughts and also I think my dad cried the whole way as he drove.

My parents have 3 cats so they made a space in their laundry room for pumpkin, to keep her separate. But there was a “we’re probably going to have to surrender her to the humane society long term because we can’t do this” and I had a lot of feelings about my grandpa putting us in that place.

So I got home at 3 am, and my cat let me sleep in under 7:15 but then i was just exhausted all day. And I was mad at my grandpa, and sad for pumpkin, and annoyed that I had lost two weekend days because of this trip to Iowa, and worried about Covid and and and and and...

But my mom took me to Ikea to look at the things I had wanted to see, and I didn’t buy anything because my brain was mush. And then on Sunday I was recording my podcast with my friend, which I was happy to do. But now it’s Tuesday and I need groceries pretty badly. And it’s such a dumb thing, but I’m annoyed I didn’t get to try the French bakery I wanted to this weekend. So it was just a hard...reality? Being reminded that your family isnt the idealized version you have in your head.

The update is: my uncle drove up from Iowa and took Pumpkin back to our family farm, where he has inside cats and is going to take care of her there. Which, the farm is like a 10 min drive from my grandpa’s house. So like...I’m glad that Pumpkin is still in the family but I’m annoyed that my uncle didn’t do this sooner as he claimed he had been “meaning to”. And maybe he needed the shock of us fleeing the state in the middle of the night with the cat kidnapped without telling my grandpa to do it, but like man.

[charmingcentry]

Bechloe - Ikea

domestic beca

Its been a month since Beca and Chloe have settled in their new two-story house in LA. Yet the house still doesn't have the feeling of a home. Their place is fairly empty and bare, only boxes of silverware and clothing can be found scattered amongst the floors with no area to store them. The only pieces of furniture the two own are a grey L-couch, a coffee table, and their mattress which fortunately came with a free bed frame. Yet, these were items Chloe bought within her free time while Beca worked countless hours at her Music Producing profession. Feeling bad that she hasn't contributed to furnishing their house, Beca decides to take matters into her own hands when she has a day off.

"Becs, I'm heading to work now!" Chloe exclaims as she fishes her car keys out of her Veterinarian scrubs

"Bye Chlo, say hi to that little weird puppy you take care of for me." The redhead smiles and closes the door, locking it behind her.

The brunette creeps to the window that shows the garage and once that she's seen her wife leave their gated community, she walks out to start her own car and makes her way to the nearest Ikea.

Beca immediately feels intimidated by the size of the place her wife so frequently visits, slightly in shock from how big the housing store is. She unlatches her seatbelt and makes her way towards the entrance which, of course, is quite large as well. The brunette walks in and is at first addled of where to go, eventually following people heading up an escalator to what Beca assumes to be where everything is located. As she heads up, the little daycare center Småland catches Beca's eye, causing her to let out a soft giggle, remembering how Chloe had said Beca would probably be able to get into the daycare area.

The brunette steps off the escalator and is somehow already lost, being greeted with the living room section of the gigantic warehouse. Unfortunately, it isn't the section that Beca wanted to end up in, she had her goals set on finding a dining table set and some type of drawers to store their clothes (they're just grabbing their clothing from boxes at this point). The brunette gets anxious as she continues to receive weird glances from strangers as she does appear to be a lost child; Beca couldn't fathom how her wife is able to navigate around this labyrinth of a store, never once in Beca's life she would think a trip to a housing store would be this stressful.

After wandering aimlessly around the store and an employee explanation of how Ikea functions later, Beca finally found the pieces of furniture she had set her eyes on, a dark brown dining set that Chloe has been awing over for weeks and a grey drawer structure that the brunette found on her own while her painful journey through Ikea. After locating the department where the parts of the furniture can be bought, she has a moment of peace before realizing that these cardboard boxes are bigger than her, both in height and width. Beca grabs one of the flat carts, almost immediately having struggles maneuvering the cart. She pushes with all her might towards the sections of where the dining set Chloe loves is found, having an irritated look on her face once she saw how gigantic the boxes were. Beca stands in front of the boxes for a bit, eyes glancing to the boxes then back to the cart and after pondering for some time, she grabs ahold of the gigantic box and Beca could already feel biceps forming.

"Agh, fuck!" The brunette whispers as the box collides loudly with the cart, shaking her hands off after a grueling experience of trying to load the dining room set into her cart.

She continues onto the next section and the same thing happens again, but only this time, Beca swears loud enough for the person in the next aisle to hear when the box slams onto her pinkie finger. 'This is for Chloe... this is for Chloe.' Beca thinks as she pushes the now weighted cart towards the checkout aisle... she was surprised to see how cheap the total amount came out in the total end. The brunette sighs of relief as an employee helps her in loading the boxes into her car and starts the drive back home, licking the melting ice cream off of her hand that she tried her best not to purchase.

The brunette easily slides the boxes into their house since the couple had replaced the carpet with hard-wooden floors and to her luck, Chloe hasn't come home yet. After setting down the boxes, she walks back into her car to bring in groceries, planning to cook for a change since Chloe does all the cooking. She rests them upon the island table in the kitchen and walks over to the dreaded dining set that she has to build.

She uses an Exacto-knife to slice open the box that is taped shut, flipping the cover open and immediately groaning when she saw multiple Ziploc bags of screws and tools needed for this "construction work." Beca immediately grabs the instruction pamphlet and to her relief, the table isn't difficult to set up. The brunette cuts the corners of the box open, making it easier to slide out the main part of the table onto the ground. Muttering the instructions under her breath, she grabs ahold of one of the table legs and places it carefully over the designated area to have access to the holes where the screws should go. Beca makes a rookie mistake and leaves the table legs balancing on its own as she grabs the bag of screws, screaming in pain as the leg falls into the leg that the brunette has left stretched out; who knew that Ikea furniture could be so painful? After holding her leg in agonizing pain for quite some time, she finally gets to screwing the table leg down... that is until she hears the lock on the entrance door clicking. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck!' Beca thinks, quickly fastening the screws down.

Chloe walks into the living room that is attached to the dining room, finding her wife on the floor with cardboard and pieces of furniture scattered around her and an ice pack resting on the shin of her right leg. She is also delighted to see bags of groceries resting in their kitchen.

"What's all this sweetie?" Chloe asks, letting a big grin stretch across her face

Beca bites her bottom lip and grimaces, glancing up at her wife who has their hair tied in a high bun. "I, uh, went to Ikea..."

Chloe kneels down and examines the area, smiling growing bigger as she notices what the brunette has bought. "Aw, Becs, are you trying to be all domestic housewife? You even bought the dining set I wanted!" The brunette's face flushes red.

"I mean yeah, I felt bad that you're doing all the work and... I tried." Beca tugs at her bottom lip as she examines the unfinished dining table. "How the hell do you manage to do this? I got lost like 5 minutes in and oh my gawd these boxes were a pain in the ass to carry. Then the friggin’ table leg fell on my own leg... how do you do it all?"

Chloe giggles at her wife's little vent and stands up, helping Beca stand up as well. She looks around at the unfinished dining table set, the groceries, and the unpackaged drawer set. Chloe pulls Beca closer to her by the waist and places her hand gently on the brunette's hips.

"How about we work on all of this together?" Chloe suggests, only earning a slight pout from her partner.

"But I just wanted you to relax... I was supposed to do this all on my own and have you come back to an actual home." Beca mutters, looking down at her feet.

Chloe lifts the brunette's chin up and places a light feather kiss on her lips, eliciting a slight quiet moan from Beca. She pulls away and smiles. "It's home wherever you are."

Beca blushes and rolls her eyes. "You're so cliché Beale..." and plants a longer and deeper kiss onto Chloe's lips.

"I love you," Chloe says into the kiss.

"I love you too."

They pull away and Chloe sits Beca down at the unfinished table. "Now, let's get to work here shall we?"

[mydearldydisdain]

I was tagged by @evies20dollars to answer some fifty questions! I’ll do it like she did, under the cut

1. What is the color of your hairbrush? Pink!

2. Name a food you never eat. This is...hard? I’m not really a picky eater so I’m just trying to think of something that I never come into contact with. The first thing I could think of is kimchee. Which is weird that I thought of but it works

3.  Are you typically too warm or too cold? too cold

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? Showering

5. What’s your favorite candy bar? Take five

6. Have you ever been to a pro sports game? I have been to a couple of baseball games

7. What’s the last thing you said out loud? “We have [a pyrex measuring cup] that doesn’t have any markings on it.” (to my aunt, she’s baking bread rn)

8. What’s your favorite ice cream? I always find this question difficult because the best ice creams I’ve ever had are like, weird flavors that I got at some specific shop and wouldn’t even be available anywhere else. The best ice cream flavor I ever had was salted peanut butter and graham cracker.

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? Cold tea

10. Do you like your wallet? Not that I’m using it right now, but yes. The only downside is my main one is kind of big so only fits in one of my purses and doesn’t fit in the other.

11. What’s the last thing you ate? grapes and an egg on toast

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? no

13. What’s the last sporting event you watched? The only thing I can definitively say is also the marble racing that was on last week tonight

14. What’s your favorite flavor of popcorn? Just regular butter and salt please!

15. Who’s the last person you sent a text message to? My bff

16. Ever go camping? no

17. Do you take vitamins? yup, just a regular every day one

18. Do you go to church every sunday? No, we are CEO people

19. Do you have a tan? I’m pretty sure it’s physically impossible for me to tan, I just burn

20. Do you prefer chinese or pizza? Chinese. But good chinese

21. Do you drink soda through a straw? no

22. What color socks do you usually wear? Probably gray actually

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? Yeah, but mostly just about 5 mph above

24. What terrifies you? The current state of America

25. Look to your left, what do you see? A pad of paper, a teacup, my aunt’s laptop and her phone

26. What chore do you hate most? Doing the dishes

27. What do you think of when you hear an australian accent? I don’t know? Ms Fisher probably

28. What’s your favorite soda? Ginger ale. Does that count?

29. Do you go in fast food places or just hit the drive through? The only time I go to fast food is when I need a drive through. Unless we stop on a road trip for the purpose of also using the bathroom

30. What’s your favorite number? uh....I feel like as a math person I should have one but I don’t. My first instinct says 13

31. Who’s the last person you talked to? My aunt, I’m staying with her for a couple of weeks to get away from my family

32. Favorite cut of beef? I like skirt steak?

33. Last song you listened to? Making a Home from Falsettos

34. Last book you read? Unmarriagable by Soniah Kamal. It’s “Pride and Prejudice in Pakistan”

35. Favorite day of the week? It normally varies each year based on my schedule. Currently Wednesdays

36. Can you say the alphabet backwards? Yes! It’s something I sat down and taught myself to do one weekend when I was a kid and bored

37. How do you like your coffee? As tea

38. Favorite pair of shoes? I have two answers. One is my pair of sneakers that I got this summer, they are the best, most comfortable sneakers I’ve ever worn. The second is a pair of vintage style light pink heels that are so cute

39. Time you normally get up? I’m getting up about 7-8 right now, but before this, it was 6. And I’ll probably go back to 6 in a couple weeks.

40. Sunrise or sunsets? Sunrise

41. How many blankets on your bed? Right now a sheet, a comforter, and a blanket at the bottom for depending on the temperature

42. Describe your kitchen plates. They are white. I’m pretty sure they’re from Ikea

43. Describe your kitchen at the moment? I don’t know, because like I said, I’m at my aunt’s house. Her kitchen rn is in use b/c she’s making bread

44. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? I don’t really drink

45. Do you play cards? Yes, when I can find someone to play with me. I played cribbage last night, and got a 24 point hand! (I’m very proud, as you can tell)

46. What color is your car? white

47. Can you change a tire? lol no

48. Your favorite state/province/country etc? Not to be cliche, but my home state is still probably my favorite

49. Favorite job you’ve had? I haven’t really had a lot at this point. Probably math grader

50. How did you get your biggest scar? Okay, so to start, I was a very cautious child, so I didn’t really get a lot of scars. My biggest (possibly only?) one has shrunk to a little over an inch, but it used to look like 2. It was the fourth of July. I was somewhere from 8-10. I had been riding my bike. I rode my bike back into the garage, climb off, and as I’m swinging my right leg back over my bike, my shin grazes over one of my dad’s sharp tools that he had left sitting in a bucket (why??? would he do this???) Honestly, I probably should have gotten stitches, but we didn’t go to the emergency room. And it turned out fine so...

I am tagging @cruuelsummers @loudwithlaughter and anyone else who wants to do it!

[amandaoftherosemire]

Lightning Strikes Part Eight

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Thor Odinson X Reader

Characters: Thor Odinson, Loki Odinson, Valkyrie, OFC Astrid, OMC Halvar

Author: @amandaoftherosemire​

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5,692

Format: Series (Complete)

Warning: Language, angst

Summary: Thor spends some time brooding and missing you. You deal with Loki and a gift you’re pretty sure you don’t want.

A/N: I don’t know if marijuana helps creativity, but I do know I was high when I wondered what it would look like if Korg and Miek tried to put together IKEA furniture. I also know that imagining it made me laugh so hard I fell off my couch.

Part Seven: Sublimation here

Aphelion

Thor sat in the giant leather executive chair behind the enormous oak desk in his office, staring resentfully out the window. He liked this chair. Tony had sent it to him in pieces for some reason, but Miek and Korg had managed, over the course of a week and with only one bout of tears, to assemble it into a sturdy throne.

He was grateful, both to Korg and Miek for the assembly, but also to Tony for the thoughtfulness. He hadn't understood why Tony had laughed so hard when he'd thanked him for the chair that shared a name with one of Thor's great-uncles, but he appreciated the gift regardless.

He especially liked that he could put his hands behind his head and rest them against the wings of leather around him. It was the most comfortable way to hate Tuesdays.

Thor despised Tuesday afternoons with every fiber of his being. The only thing keeping the clouds from smothering the hated sunshine pouring through the window was Thor's determined effort to not call them. His mood would have drawn the thunderstorm long before otherwise. Still, he couldn't punish others for his mistakes.

Even the pilot of the jet from New York, the cause of all this hate and resentment.

Tuesday afternoons the jet from New York came, unloaded, reloaded, then left. He knew now that hadn't been the plan. The plan had been for the jet to stay, along with the only joy he'd found after the loss of his home. He hated Tuesdays because it was supposed to be the day you came back to him. Instead, because he had been a fool and a coward, that jet held nothing he wanted anymore.

He was especially infuriated with himself because he’d known better. He'd known you were even more loyal than you were beautiful within only a few days in your company. If he'd asked himself, he would have been certain he could trust you, down to his bones. But he'd allowed the poison his father’s advisers had dripped into his ear to convince him to assign his newly appointed spymaster to the task.

Thor had already decided to ask you to live with him when the final report had been submitted along with a snotty lecture about hypocrisy. Loki had concluded that your loyalty to Thor was unassailable and suggested that those who had been so worried about a human spy in their midst might perhaps have things to hide.

If only he’d told you the truth before you’d found out for yourself in such an awful way. You were so amazing, so understanding of all the fucking bullshit that went hand in hand with his birthright, his burden. If he’d told you the truth, explained the why of it, apologized, perhaps you’d be coming home right now.

“What time is it?” The lump currently taking up space on the couch under the window spoke from under the purple and yellow baseball cap. Her long legs were tightly encased in jeans and crossed at the calves stretched out across the couch. Her arms were crossed, and she’d pulled the cap down to cover her eyes.

Until she spoke, Thor had thought she’d been asleep.

He glanced at the clock, then answered with a sigh, “Five after two.”

To his astonishment, she sat up immediately, pushing the cap back to reveal the dark beauty underneath. “Shit, she'll be here soon.” With that, Valkyrie jumped to her feet and headed with long strides toward the door.

Thor shook himself out of his brood, suspicious of her sudden leap into action. “Who will?”

“The jet from New York should have something for me.” Valkyrie wasn't going to stop, but the look of astonishment had her pausing at the door and rolling her eyes. She adored Thor, but he had a weird habit of dissociating when he was depressed. Not a terribly great characteristic in a king, but at least he wasn't a homicidal maniac.

Still, she considered it part of her duties to kick Thor in the ass whenever he needed it. She'd decided.

He needed it.

He'd brooded long enough. He was obviously not going to get over you, so it was time for him to try to win you back. To be truthful, Valkyrie liked you immensely. Your reaction to what had happened had earned her respect. Spending time with you had earned her friendship. Bringing her delicious top-shelf liquor had earned her undying love.

“Your majesty, you might want to actually look out that window from time to time," she sneered, "or actually talk to your people." At this, pure disdain settled onto her face and had Thor fully paying attention to her. "You know, instead of only listening to the idiots that appointed themselves the people's representatives.”

The next second, she was gone, the door closing with a slam behind her. Thor turned his chair back to the window and stared at a cloud that hung perfectly framed by the panes of glass. He frowned, mulling over Valkyrie's words, her tone, her expressions. He started to wonder what he would see if he walked to the window and looked out. What could be happening out there?

Not much later, Thor was getting to his feet and wandering over to the window. As he did, the Wakandan jet that had been meant to bring his heart back to him was settling down on the helipad at the back of the manor house. To his surprise, a crowd of Asgardian children were running toward the jet cheering, with his brother, Astrid, and Valkyrie following behind at a walk.

When the hatch opened and you walked out, lovely legs in tight jeans and boots, a t-shirt with Captain America's shield emblazoned across your breasts, and a bright smile for the crowd there to greet you, Thor felt the loss of you like a physical stab to the gut, a spasm of pain rocking through him. Had he been sitting here hating the world every Tuesday when you were right outside his house the whole time?

Part of him wanted to run outside, snatch you up, and imprison you in his bedroom until he could convince you that he hadn't meant any of it. He wanted to apologize, swear he hadn't needed a shred of proof to believe in you. He wanted to show you he regretted it more than almost anything he'd ever done, promise he'd never hurt you like that again. He held himself back, knowing that he had no right to even a moment of your time. He also had a healthy respectful fear of you and was certain you'd find a way to make him regret such high-handed behavior. In all the realms, he'd never met another like you.

In all his centuries, he'd never loved another the way he loved you.

That you stood in his kingdom despite it all gave him hope that you would listen if he ran outside and begged for your forgiveness. Whether you'd forgive him or not, you'd at least hear him out. You were too fair, too kind to do otherwise. But Thor had decided that fate had spoken. He was meant to let you go. He could never give you everything you deserved. As such, he would not be so selfish as to beg you to return to him. Even if he deserved you, you deserved more.

Thor frowned when you embraced all three adults, even as the children milled around you. You even took Loki's face in your hands and pulled his cheek down for a kiss, smiling into his eyes.

How the FUCK had his brother weaseled his way back into your good graces when Thor hadn't even known you were in his kingdom?

You ducked back inside the jet only to emerge a few moments later holding an open box. Fascinated, Thor watched you start pulling out items from said box and passing them to the children who still circled you expectantly.

This had become one of your favorite parts of the week. Despite the fact that visiting New Asgard sent a spasm of pain, anger, and regret through you every time you arrived and every time you left, there was still joy to be found here.

After you and Thor had broken up, Pepper had made it clear that they could easily assign another pilot to the New Asgard run. She’d have worked with you in any way you needed to make things okay after what had happened, feeling responsible since she’d asked you to entertain Loki. You’d considered letting her rearrange things for you once again, though you didn’t blame her at all. She had only been concerned with keeping the peace and would have never knowingly put you in such a position.

You thought about walking away from New Asgard and everyone in it. It would have been easier.

Easier wasn’t better, though. You’d wanted the new job, the new responsibilities. You’d been excited to take on new challenges and you didn’t see any reason to let Thor stand in the way of that. You’d never let a failed relationship dictate your behavior in the past; you didn’t see any reason to start now.

Which is how, over the past few months, you’d made an odd little place for yourself on the periphery of Asgardian society. At first, it had only been Astrid to come greet you every Tuesday. Then, Halvar had come with questions about Midgard candy.

Halvar was a small child with a shock of blond hair, bright blue eyes, and ridiculously charming dimples. He looked to be about seven years old, but you weren’t sure how Asgardian aging worked so he could be older than you in years for as far as you knew.

He had surprised you on your fourth Tuesday run when he’d tapped gently on your arm. You’d been supervising the cargo trade and pointedly ignoring the dark god that grinned at you from the balcony. You’d been trying not to notice the other conspicuous absence.

Halvar had been designated by the children as their representative. As such, he had come to ask what the King’s Midgardian lady might know of something called chocolate.

You had been delighted to tell him everything you knew. The following Tuesday, a small group of Asgardian children were waiting for you to ask further questions. Instead, they were rewarded with their first taste of milk chocolate. You’d started simple, with high-quality plain chocolate squares from your favorite chocolatier in New York.

The look of wonder that crossed each sweet little face as the flavor hit made up for the fifth week in a row that you’d seen neither hide nor hair of Thor. Astrid’s near sexual moan of pleasure as she sampled the sweet had you laughing out loud and lifted some of the clouds that still hung around you. That had been the beginning of a routine, and a new place for you on the fringe of Asgardian society.

You’d somehow become their connection for Midgard specialties. You were more than happy to help with special requests, which is why your cargo on this day included first edition books for Loki, insanely expensive moisturizer for Astrid, hundred-year-old scotch for Valkyrie.

And a box full of packets of Fun Dip for the children.

You'd discovered when looking for a retail outlet that sold candy in bulk that you could not simply buy the dipping sticks by themselves and found it offensive to the point of heresy. Why did we even invent the internet?

The children, under the watchful eye of both Astrid and Valkyrie (Loki didn't care, and the children knew it), were waiting patiently as you tore the tops off and placed the lik-a-stik in each little hand. Halvar received an approving look from you when he nibbled a little at the end once you had the children taste them. You and that kid were simpatico, for all you were born on different planets.

When he placed the stick covered in powder in his mouth, then looked at the sugar stick like he preferred it by itself, you laughed out loud. Halvar was a pistol; you could tell he was going to be a force to be reckoned with based on the streak of stubborn you could see in the set of his chin. You wouldn't be surprised if he ran his parents ragged now.

Thor couldn't tell what exactly you were doing, but it looked like you were sharing some treat with the crowd that assembled around you. Even the Asgardians unloading the jet stopped to try whatever you had brought. To their king's astonishment, they seemed to be easy with you, their body language speaking of joking and the good-natured jostling of camaraderie.

As the cargo trade finished, the children wandered off, little paper pouches in their hands. He watched you trade hugs with Astrid, the housemaid, and Valkyrie, before they walked away, both carrying boxes you'd given them. Loki dawdled, however, making Thor's eye narrow in suspicion.

Once the two of you were alone, Loki stepped forward. He'd noticed your gaze avoiding the house and inwardly smirked. Even you had your tells. Your stubborn affection for his idiot of a brother gave you away when little else did. Loki knew you were still in love with the oaf, though you no longer scanned for his approach with anxious but hopeful eyes.

Loki was well aware that Thor could win you back easily. All he'd have to do is be honest about what he'd done, why he'd done it, and how he felt about it and you'd end up forgiving him. He'd never met a harder bitch with a softer center. You loved Thor. You hadn't stopped.

Loki had absolutely no intention of telling Thor any of that. He also hadn't told Thor that you visited New Asgard every Tuesday. Nor had he told his brother that you and he were friends again. He'd kept to himself his suspicions that you were slowly being absorbed into the soldier and his feral dog's relationship. There were worlds of information he hadn't shared with Thor when it came to you.

For example…

"Your turn, dear one," he said with a wicked smile and a flourish, bringing a box of his own into view. His, however, was made of wood almost black with age. The surface was carved over its entire surface with symbols and sigils that could be read by only a few people even within the borders of New Asgard.

You looked at the box that had shimmered into being in Loki's hand with a skeptically raised eyebrow. Whatever was in it, you already felt like Pandora just looking at it. "Uh-huh, what's in it?" you asked, a half smile curving your mouth, and made no move to take it.

Loki's smile widened. He loved how affectionate you were in your complete mistrust of him. You believed nothing he said without question, but you also seemed to always react with humor rather than anger. At least since you'd stopped punishing him for his earlier deceptions. Truthfully, you'd been remarkably forgiving for that considering that he hadn't apologized.

"A present for you, love." Loki had stopped bothering to pretend he didn't adore you. He could have maintained the pretense that he had only befriended you to spy for Thor, but he saw no reason to deprive himself of your company.

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. "Is it a present I want? Or are you fucking with me?"

"Yes?" Loki looked earnest, but you could tell by the twinkle in his eye that he was teasing you.

Still a touch reluctant, you reached out to take the box. Hopefully, you weren't going to regret this. You examined the box, discovering when you went to open it that it appeared to be one solid piece of wood. "What is this?"

"A choice." Loki's eyes were dancing and making you vaguely nervous. "I'll tell you how to open it later."

"Okay." You scowled at him, tucking the box under your arm. "It's not gonna blow up or anything, right?" You were asking mostly for form; you didn't really think Loki would put you in harm's way. You were pretty sure he had a soft spot for you, but you couldn’t be certain of anything when it came to the Odinson brothers anymore.

Loki's eyes softened ever so slightly and reassured you before he even opened his mouth. He was thinking it was a shame that remaining loyal to his brother had meant betraying you. He didn’t mind that you didn’t trust him, but he disliked that you were no longer sure of his affection for you. He would not have had it so.

“Of course not, dear one," he replied with a slow, wicked smile. "How would that entertain me?"

"I'm not going to give you ideas for how to make blowing me up entertaining." You turned with a roll of your eyes and began to walk toward the jet. Loki followed you, laughing, to place a hand on your shoulder. Spinning you around, he gave you one of his rare hugs.

"Don't try to open it without me," he said as he pulled back to frown sternly at you. "Promise me."

"Okay," you retorted, sneering a little, "weirdo, I promise."

Loki smiled again, knowing you, at least, could be counted upon to keep your promises. He reached out to brush the backs of those long, artist's fingers down your cheek. "I'll see you soon, love." Once Loki had started calling you 'love', you'd realized that the tone, the timbre of his voice was the same as it had been on the word 'pet'. You weren't sure to feel worse about the new endearment or better about the old.

Because it made your heart hurt, you opted not to think about it. If he didn't care for you, nothing about your current situation changed. If he meant it, if he truly did have a soft spot for you, to call it into question would hurt him unnecessarily. You didn't want to hurt Loki, or Thor for that matter. You just wanted to stop hurting, yourself.

"I can't wait," you said, sardonically, a wry half-smile on your lips to soften your sarcasm. "I gotta go. I want to get ahead of the storm."

For a fraction of a second, Loki didn't understand. When he did, he wanted to laugh aloud. His brother's timing was almost perfect, as per usual. He leaned in and brushed his mouth quickly, chastely against yours. You didn't respond, simply stared at him in astonishment. He smiled wickedly, causing your expression to shift into amused exasperation.

You didn't know what Loki was up to, but you were sure you wanted no part of it. You decided not to get in any deeper than you already were. "Goodbye, Loki," you called out as you turned away again. The last thing you heard as the hatch closed behind you was the sound of the god's mischievous laughter.

As Loki walked back to the manor house, he looked up to meet Thor's furious gaze in the window on the third floor.

Loki smiled.

Thor sat on the cliffs, watching the clouds boil. He knew he should rein it in, that his people as well as those across the fjord didn't deserve to bear the brunt of his foul temper. He couldn't do it, though, too lost in bitter pain and rage. He'd held off as long as he could, but the storm in his blood would be denied no longer.

He wasn’t the sort of man who enjoyed dwelling on the mistakes of the past. He knew he’d go mad if he spent too much time looking back. As long lived as his kind was, they had ample opportunity for regret. The only way to survive was to look forward.

Considering the mistakes he’d made in recent years, why this one should plague him so was a mystery. Even before he’d laid eyes on you once again, he’d been tormented by the loss of you.

Now, however, he'd been reminded of the sparkle of your smile, the arrogance in your walk, that sexy hip-shot stance in response to any challenge. He missed you so much it was like a physical ache. Knowing you were only a quick flight away had been torture. To now know that you visited his home every single week was agony. The temptation to go crawling back to you, begging for another chance was going to be excruciating.

The only reason he hadn't yet was he'd thought you'd be happier away from him and the insanity that followed him. Only now he'd discovered that you had remained friends with Astrid, become friends with Valkyrie, and become friends, again, with his blasted brother. Thor had been denying himself the pleasure of your company only to discover that not a single member of his household had done the same.

The confrontation with Loki had been ugly, for a lot of reasons, not least of which was that Loki had the moral high ground for once. He'd never pretended to be anything but what he was, an unrepentant liar and trickster, which is why, apparently, you had let him back into your good graces. Thor doubted he'd find it so easy to win you back.

Because for all his brother's flaws, he'd been absolutely correct. Loki had been oddly honest with you, proving his affection. He would not have bothered to give you what honesty he could in the midst of a deception had he not cared about you. Thor wasn't the least surprised that you could see that. You saw Loki more clearly than most.

Unfortunately for him, you'd seen only what Thor had wanted you to see. The day you'd found out he'd asked Loki to spy on you for him was etched with painful clarity across his memory. You had been utterly blindsided, had not even considered suspecting him of subterfuge before that moment. He had seen the betrayal on your face, was so intimately familiar with the pain of that emotion, he'd been unable to offer any defense beyond the weakest expression of remorse.

You had been unimpressed, and rightly so. If he had it to do over again, he'd tell you he never really distrusted you. He'd heard no end of mindless fearmongering from his father's advisers and had believed none of it. He'd fully expected Loki to prove you true, had in fact counted on it. He'd wanted to quiet their groundless terrors once and for all.

And that was all information he should have shared with you long before you found out by overhearing he and his brother arguing about it. If he had it to do over again, he'd have faced you with the truth as soon as Loki had given the final report to said advisers. He'd betrayed you twice; you'd been right to walk away.

Thor had let you go for a reason, and that reason hadn't changed. He carried nothing but pain with him. He'd already hurt you enough; he wouldn't risk hurting you again.

"Okay," you sneered at the man that had just shimmered into being on the couch in the living area of your quarters at the Avengers compound. "What bullshit are you up today?" You nodded at the piquant box he'd given you earlier in the day on the coffee table in front of the couch. You'd set it there and waited, knowing Loki would be paying you one of his hologram visits before your day was over.

You weren't disappointed, though it was much later than you expected, closer to midnight. You wondered what could have happened in New Asgard that could have had him occupied until nearly dawn his time. He didn't offer an explanation, simply smiled indulgently.

"I beg your pardon, dear one," he demurred, his eyes twinkling with good-natured mischief. You narrowed yours in response. "It is nothing dangerous, I promise." He was laughing, but you could see the tension around his eyes.

"To open it, you must trace the waxing crescent moon to the ridge of the mountains. From there you follow the path through the valley into the winter sun." His lips were twitching, and he looked entirely too pleased with himself.

When he had appeared, you had been pouring a much-needed glass of wine. You could have sworn you'd seen Thor earlier that day in a third-floor window, watching you. Your heart had raced, but you'd been able to resist the urge to run inside and punch him until he hurt as badly as he'd hurt you. You'd vowed to hold on to your temper and your tears on the day you'd decided to keep the New Asgard run.

Swirling the pinot noir in your overly full glass, you sat casually on the couch next to Loki, crossing your legs with a dubious smile on your face. "Uh-huh." You lifted an eyebrow. "What's in the box? And it better not be a head."

"Why would it be a head?" When you opened your mouth to explain the reference, he lifted his hand to stop you. "Don't answer. I don't care. Open it and look."

Your eyes narrowed even further, your lips twisted in suspicion. Still, he seemed to be having fun-fun, not mean-fun, so you figured you could risk opening the thing. You leaned forward and set your wineglass on one of the agate slices that served as coasters to protect the dark oak of the coffee table. You grabbed the dark box Loki had given you earlier and sat back, settling it in your lap. You shot Loki a look from under skeptical eyebrows.

Turning your attention to the box, you were taken by the beauty of the thing. It wasn’t large, but rectangular in shape and a little smaller than a brick. Its surface was shiny and nearly black with age. But for the symbols and sigils carved deeply into the wood, you would have thought the object made of obsidian, so smooth and glassy was the surface between the carvings. Almost immediately, your eye was caught by the elaborate crescent with the horns facing left along one of the thin, long sides.

Your finger reached out and delicately traced the curling pattern within the crescent. When you reached the end, the entire symbol began to glow a white-edged blue. Your finger followed a jagged line that reached around and ran along the edge of one of the thin, short sides. From there a winding, curving line through symbols and runes that you couldn't translate across the other long, thin side through a dipping 'U' shape. Finally, your finger followed the line into a spiral on one of the large faces. The spiral itself nestled into a symbol strangely reminiscent of a sun within a snowflake.

Once the line that traveled through all the symbols was lit with that bluish-white light, a seam in the wood appeared. Feeling very much like Pandora, you slid the lid out from the groove in which it sat. Inside, on a bed of silk, lay a small, crystalline bottle full of a vibrant blue liquid that seemed to shimmer in the light as it faded from the symbols. Tendrils of steam swirled out of the box where the chill of the bottle met the warmth of the air.

"Oh, what fresh hell is this?"

At your acerbic response, Loki burst into full-throated laughter. "Only you, dear one, could find a king's ransom an irritant."

"It is when you're offering it." Lifting a brow, you gestured toward the bottle, silently asking if it was okay to remove it from its nest. Loki inclined his head in assent with a knowing smile. You carefully lifted the bottle, your fingers chilling the moment you touched it, wondering at both the container and the liquid within. "This isn't glass, is it? What does the liquid do?"

"Glass couldn't hold it, dear one." Loki's smile had taken on a slightly sinister edge. You'd noted his smile took on that particular cruel edge preceding a half-truth. He always looked a little cruel whenever he was about to give you an answer that was technically the truth but omitted a lot of important information. "A capful will extend your life by fifty times its normal length."

"And the catch?" You reluctantly set the bottle back in its nest, the chill starting to hurt your fingers. You continued to examine it, however, as once you'd lifted it to the light, you'd been able to see delicate patterns etched into the surface of the bottle as well. "I age at my normal length so that when I die several thousand years from now, it's from crumbling apart?"

"No, you will age proportionally to your lifetime." Loki was vaguely exasperated, but thoroughly amused. You were the only person he'd ever thought to offer this secret to. Part of that was exactly this, that you were one of the few he'd ever met who wouldn't immediately drink it but would ask a dozen questions first. He was starting to think you weren't human; you were too clever. "Remember, I actually like you, dear one."

That touched you a little. You were pretty sure that was the truth. Still… "There has to be a catch."

Loki's smiled widened. "It will change you physically. You will become much harder to kill, among other things." That cruel cast came and went once more on his ascetically pretty face. "You might not like some of the changes."

"Huh." You sat for a moment, thinking over all of the information he had both volunteered and carefully hidden. You couldn't help but notice that he hadn't entirely answered your question. You knew there had to be more of a catch than he'd revealed, but you could also tell he didn't want to tell you. Whatever was going on here, you could see clearly that Loki was not being entirely honest with you, surprise, surprise. You were certain there were aspects that you would not like should he tell the truth. Until then… "No."

"No!?"

You burst out laughing at the sheer insult all over him. His face was a study in umbrage, his body recoiling in horror. He was genuinely shocked that you wouldn't leap at the chance to extend your life without thinking further. You were genuinely amused that he thought you'd jump without thinking about the consequences first. You hadn't survived this long in the odd world you inhabited by being either naïve or reckless.

"No, I will not drink your I’m-an-obvious-trap-and-if-you-drink-me-you’re-an-idiot potion." You closed the box with a snap, then leaned forward to place it on the coffee table once more. You picked up your wineglass and sat back to continue. "This has Faustian bargain written all over it. ‘Drink this mysterious liquid that does not have a label and you have no idea what’s in it and you’ll have life, health, and youth for the next 4,000 years, no strings attached.’" You scowled good-naturedly at the now smiling god. "Sure! Nothing insanely wrong here! I mean, if you can’t trust the God of Mischief and Deceit."

Loki tilted his head back and roared with laughter. You'd never seen him laugh like this, open and unguarded. It occurred to you that Loki hid a lot of himself away, and you wondered about the why of it. Today, however, you were just grateful to see him enjoying himself so thoroughly. Your face softened, and you teased gently as he calmed, "Well, come on. This might as well have a sign that says, ‘Free Bird Seed’ on it."

"I do not understand," he answered, still chuckling. "Is bird seed terribly precious on Midgard?"

"I cannot figure out where to even begin to explain Wile E. Coyote to you."

"If it is another ridiculous Midgard thing, don't bother." He lifted a dismissive hand and you laughed again. "I don't care." His expression shifting to one of amused temptation, he slid forward on the couch. Though you knew you couldn't touch him, you weren't certain if Loki could touch you in this form. You forced yourself to stay relaxed and not retreat. Loki would immediately take advantage of any sign of weakness. "When you change your mind, love," he smiled that enticing smile of his, the one that crossed his face when he was up to something, "let me know. Do. Not. Drink it without me. You'll need my help."

"I'm not drinking it." If Loki had been a study in insult, you were now a study in doubtful challenge. You leaned back, one arm casually draped across your lap, the other swirling your wine as it lay along the back of the couch. "But I still want to know why you're even offering it to me."

"It has become clear that it is going to take you forever to stop pining for my oaf of a brother." Loki slid closer and you felt that odd push-pull you always had with Loki, the urge to run coupled with the temptation to get closer. "I want you to still be alive when that happens so I can steal you once and for all."

The last words were spoken almost against your mouth and you would swear you could feel it. Your lips seemed to tingle, as though his had been only a breath away, but you weren't sure you weren't merely hallucinating the sensation. In the next instant, Loki was gone, undoubtedly concluding that a strategic retreat was best to accomplish his aims.

He wasn't wrong; you were certain you'd be thinking about the box, and him, for a long time coming. How could you not? Even his reason for offering would prey upon your mind. It was so weirdly sweet.

Didn't matter, you thought to yourself. You weren't a fucking idiot, and you did not know what that potion really did. You weren't fucking drinking it.

Part Nine: Ablation here

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