#and then tomorrow is Hauling Cube Day

[aethernoise]

Moving update: all my plants are here, but my computer is not yet here

[shardofazem]

It's the strangest thing to think about now.

But one year ago to the day today I was awaiting a phone call.

One that would help me get my health, my body, my sanity and my life all back.

But it came at a price.

The fact that I will never have a kid the natural way will always linger in the dark corner of my mind. I've accepted that. But my body, especially after the effects of that damned Provera, gave up on me and said I can't do this anymore. "This demonic uterus has to go. It has to be yeeted into the hottest pit of fire you can find."

I'm thankful for a man, as much as he can test me and I him, that put my health and wellbeing first over having kids. There are other paths to parenthood and when the time is right they'll be open to us.

And, ya know... It's so weird to compare my activity level the last several months since getting my clearance to return to regular life to that of my activity pre-surgery. In many ways it's like I'm not the same person.

And, truthfully speaking... I'm not. In the spring of 2021 when I was in and out of the hospital there were moments curled up on the heating pad or in a hot shower or bath that I legitimately thought I was dying. I even remember sobbing and telling God that "if this is truly it, if this is how it goes down, be quick about it. And not for my sake but for my family and my husband. Don't make them suffer through watching me suffer like this much more."

And now? I'm taking care of four horses every day, hauling 50lb bags of feed or beet pellets or alfalfa cubes like it ain't nothing and doing chores - well until my back issues say "girl, sit your ass down" and I take a break (ah, generative back issues are a joooyyy...). I'm driving myself and my husband around. I'm not as depressed or as anxious or more asleep than I am awake anymore.

I never knew just how much of myself and my life I would get back after all I'd been through the last few years. So far, life post-hysterectomy has been brilliant and there are no regrets. A tinge of sadness over the fact that it came to this but no regrets.

7/13/2021 - tomorrow officially marks 1 year post-op.

And what a year it has been.

[tawaifeddiediaz]

in a name

I wasn’t supposed to write this fic with all the others I have lined up but here it is anyway, girldads!Buddie for @bieddiediaz :)) (inspired by this post) 

[AO3 Link]

Word Count: 4540 words They don’t mean for it to happen.

Of course they don’t.

It’s just…a strange consequence that they don’t really see coming, of course.

“Papa!” 

Vera flies into Buck’s arms as soon as he and Eddie walk into her preschool, her loud yell earning them more than a few stares. Buck can’t bring it in himself to care as he wraps his arms around his daughter, hauling her up into a huge hug.

This is hardly the first time he’s picked her up from preschool, but it never seems to get easier to have her out of his sight for the four hour school day, or Christopher for his seven hour one. His heart stays in his throat until he sees both their kids in front of them, safe and sound.

“Hey there, kiddo,” he laughs, tickling her sides as she wiggles in his arms. “How was school?”

Eddie’s hand lands at the small of his back, heavy and familiar as he leans in to ruffle their daughter’s hair. “Get into trouble today?”

“No! I’m a good girl,” Vera pouts, even as she reaches for Eddie.

“The best,” Buck agrees, carefully transferring her into his husband’s arms. Vera’s satisfied with his answer, and smooths her finger along Eddie’s eyebrow, endlessly fascinated with her father’s face. Buck laughs as the mock annoyance in his husband’s expression turns playful and he smacks a loud kiss on her cheek. Vera dissolves into peals of laughter as she clings to Eddie’s neck, and Buck leans into them, casting a look around the room.

Which, to put it lightly, looks like a tornado ripped through it. 

Messes of toys are scattered all over the place. Building blocks lay strewn on the colorful carpet, cards are scattered over the small tables and if Buck looks closely, he can see a couple juice box spills on the desks. One man weaves around the tables, picking up all the fall hazards as quickly as he can with the other parents approaching, practically chucking them into the big bin in the corner of the room.

One of Vera’s teachers approaches the three of them, her kind face cheery and smiling. Ms. Roshan, Buck remembers as he reaches out to shake her hand.

“You’re both here today!” she exclaims, looking between them.

“Yeah, we got off shift early,” Eddie explains, tugging Vera’s sticky fingers free from his hair. Buck swallows the laughter that threatens to burst out of him at the section now yanked out of place, like the world’s worst cowlick. “Thought we both should be here for her first parent-teacher conference.”

“Well you’re right on time, because I think you were the first to arrive. Why don’t we get settled in my office? Vera, do you want to play out here while I talk to your dads?”

“No, I have to go with Daddy.” She tightens her grip on Eddie’s collar, her tiny nails digging into his neck. Buck winces, knowing exactly how those scratches feel, and makes a mental note to trim them down before tomorrow. “I have to.”

He knows that tone, and knows that there will probably be hell to pay in the form of stomping feet and huffing.

“Okay, you can come,” Buck assures, glancing at Ms. Roshan apologetically. 

She doesn’t look put off by it, only beckoning them through a pair of double doors into a small corner office. Before they go in, Buck quickly smooths Eddie’s hair from the side, offering his husband a quick smile as they walk in. 

Roshan Armaan hangs on the wall behind her chair in a dotted letter font. The laminated placard is complete with a triad of she/her/hers pronouns and two bright yellow pencils below the name. There’s not much more than a computer, a framed picture and a few chairs, but it’s cozy — as spacious as it can be with most of the room allotted to the actual classroom.

Vera picks up the Rubik’s Cube sitting on her teacher’s desk, immediately too engrossed in playing around with it to pay attention to their conversation. Buck has to smile — her hand isn’t even as big as one of the faces of the cube.

“So? How’s Vera liking preschool?” Roshan asks, pressing a few buttons on her keyboard. “I remember the first few days she was apprehensive about being here.”

That is a massive understatement.

“Uh, she’s moved past it, for sure,” Buck answers, propping his arms around their daughter when Vera deigns to sit on both Buck and Eddie, who are sitting close enough to press their thighs into a makeshift seat for her.

“She’s always so excited to come here now, it’s hard to believe she hated the idea at the beginning,” Eddie adds.

The first days were hell on them. Vera had screamed, cried, pulled at them and thrown multiple tantrums of epic proportions both the night before and the day of preschool. Buck and Eddie had both gone to drop her off, and she’d cried so much that both of them were teary eyed by the time they finally managed to drop her off.

She hadn’t lasted an hour the first day.

Buck had gone to pick her up, her face blotchy and scowling. She’d been mad enough that she hadn’t even let him take her in his arms. He had no idea what to do with it, so he’d elected to wait it out until they at least got to the car. A couple breathing exercises and he finally managed to calm her down enough to drive them home.

(He might’ve also had to bribe her with a soft pretzel and ice cream, but that’s between him and the heartbroken, betrayed look on his daughter’s face that Buck is eternally weak for.)

It was the same story the second day — Eddie ended up running out of their shift early because Vera wouldn’t stop crying. Bobby had immediately let him go, but Buck’s heart had been in his throat until he got home from his own shift to find Vera sleeping soundly on top of an exhausted Eddie’s chest.

“She’s scared,” Eddie had said, his hand tracing absent patterns on their daughter’s back. Her fists had been curled tightly in her father’s shirt, her shock of dark curls spilling all over her face as she slept on peacefully. 

“New things are always scary. How do we make it less scary, especially for a kid?” Buck had asked.

“I don’t know.” And Eddie’s voice had cracked, having always felt their kids’ pain like it was his own, and that marked the end of the conversation until at least after dinner.

At the end of the day, it was Chris who managed to convince her to stay for the full four hours, just to see how she would like it. Vera almost always listened to her older brother, and that night had been no different.

Buck and Eddie still don’t know what magic he’d spun, but she’d come home from the next day a whole new person, suddenly excited to go to preschool because of all her new friends and the playground and the snacks . The fear hadn’t vanished overnight, but it grew smaller and smaller until she was comfortable enough to streak from the car towards Caden and Priscilla, who waited for her at drop-off every day, without even a glance back at them.

Her instant friendship with the two kids was proof enough of how she’d learned to adjust so quickly, and Buck knew that it was the same for Caden and Priscilla, too. Priscilla’s dad had told them that his daughter was having the same meltdowns up until she found her new friends in the class. Caden’s moms had approached them about a playdate within the second week, just because their son wouldn’t stop talking about his two new friends. 

The three kids had become a tight-knit group, clearly supporting each other in a way that only four-year-olds could, and for that, Buck and Eddie were grateful.

“Most kids experience a form of separation anxiety when they start preschool, because they’re away from their parents, or other primary guardians for the first time. It’s fully expected, but she’s a well-adjusted child.” Roshan smiles at her. Underneath the table, Buck reaches past Vera’s legs to tangle his fingers with Eddie’s, uncaring of how sweaty both their palms are. 

Roshan talks about the curriculum, pulling out a folder with all of Vera’s drawings and worksheets as she explains what they’ve been doing in class since August. “We’ve been working our way through colors and basic shapes. We’ve also started teaching the kids one letter a day, trying to familiarize them with the alphabet and how each letter sounds. Vera seems to recognize them on an above average level, and is even able to give examples.”

Buck looks over at where Eddie’s flipping through the various papers. All the worksheets have a gold sticker stuck to the corner of them, crayon following dotted lines to form letters of the alphabet.

“Looks like Chris’ artistry rubbed off on her,” Eddie observes, his smile that particular curve that only their kids brought out in him. Buck had deemed it his “Christopher smile” when he’d first met him, but now, he sees it as something that both their kids brought out in him.

Eddie passes the paper he’s holding to Buck, who finds himself looking down at a particularly colorful dinosaur. Every part of the drawing is a different color, but somehow, she’s made it work.

Or maybe Buck’s just biased.

“Yeah, that’s for Chris.” Vera nods, taking hold of the paper and setting it away from the folder before going back to the Rubik’s Cube. Buck watches her for a second before gesturing towards the paper.

“Can we take that home?”

“You can take the whole folder, actually. We have copies of anything we’ll need. Uh, let’s see,” Roshan turns back to her computer, scrolling through something. “During the next few weeks, we’ll be focusing on things like our community and the people who work in it. We’ll also be talking about weather, two-letter sounds. But as of now, none of us have any special concerns about Vera. She’s a joy to have in the class, and gets along so well with the other students.”

If Buck’s chest puffs out a little more from pride, that’s between him, the husband currently squeezing his hand, and God. 

He doesn’t have to look over at Eddie to know that he’s in a similar state, having sat up straighter in his chair. Out of the corner of his eye, Buck can see the proud grin on his husband’s face, and squeezes his fingers tighter in response.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

“Is there anything we can do at home to help her prepare for the units?” Eddie asks.

Roshan shakes her head. “Just what you’re already doing! Reading, practicing the letters and sounds, helping your child identify things about themselves and reviewing previous concepts from the last nine weeks are all ways you can keep on top of the curriculum, so she doesn’t start to forget. Practice is important.”

“Okay, that makes sense,” Eddie nods, clearly taking mental notes of everything the teacher tells them. If not for Vera in his lap, Buck would’ve been scrawling a million notes, but lucky for him, Eddie’s memory is sharper than the tip of an arrow.

“Anything else?”

“Uh, no, I think we’re good,” Buck says, exchanging a look with his husband. Eddie shrugs in turn, agreeing with him. 

“Alright, then let’s head out?” Roshan gets out of her chair to hold the door open for them. 

Vera crawls back into Buck’s arms, while Eddie tries to pry the Rubik’s cube from her hands.

“No!”

“Kiddo, that’s Ms. Roshan’s. Can you give it back to her, please?” 

Vera only barely pouts before Buck levels her with a firm look. She hands the cube over to her teacher, sighing dramatically and nearly bending over backwards with her theatrics. It takes quick reflexes and a mini heart attack from Buck to stop her from falling out of his grasp, but for her part, all she does is giggle.

“She gets those dramatics from you,” Buck grumbles to Eddie as he supports her head, carefully walking out the door lest Vera decide to jump out of his arms again. The grin on her face is a spitting image of Eddie when he thinks he’s gotten away with something under Buck’s nose.

“Right,” Eddie replies, sarcasm high in his voice. “Nothing to do with all you’ve taught Chris over the years.”

“I plead the fifth,” Buck sniffs.

Roshan’s laugh sounds behind them, startling them out of their reverie. Buck hadn’t realized she was following them out. “You know, you’ll have to forgive me for saying this, but it’s a good thing we have your names on our forms. Otherwise, we’d think your names were babe , love or sweetheart .”

Buck feels the moment Eddie goes ramrod stiff, a similar embarrassment rushing down his own spine as they turn to face their daughter’s teacher. “Excuse me?”

“Our first unit focused on the kid’s talking about themselves and their families. And when we asked her what her parents’ names were, and she said ‘babe’ and ‘love,’ and I quote, ‘but sometimes their names are sweetheart, too,’”

“Oh my god.” Eddie’s voice is strangled in his throat, and Buck feels his face turn beet red as he looks at his mischievous child, who’s grinning like nothing ever happened as she pokes his now flaming cheeks. 

“They are! Daddy calls you that all the time,” Vera tells Buck matter-of-factually. Eddie does use the pet names all the time, but almost never outside their house — something private for them, just the way they like it.

Something private that’s now public to their daughter’s preschool class.

His four-year-old is going to be the death of him. 

“Er…” Buck tries to search for words, only to come up empty.

Death by embarrassment, of all things. 

Roshan only laughs again, kindly saying, “Don’t worry. It was sweet, and we always get at least one kid per year who thinks their parents’ names are endearments. Just thought you’d like to know! I’m glad she has that model in front of her. Growing up in a nurturing family is important, especially at her age.”

That only makes it marginally better, that they’re not the only ones, but Eddie’s face is stuck in a warped smile that makes him look strange, and Buck’s sure he’s not faring much better.

“Can we go home now?” Vera demands when the silence turns too awkward, linking her arms around Buck’s neck. “Is Chris at home?” He can hear the drowsy tone in her voice, and knows she’s probably going to go down for a nap after this.

“He’s still at school,” Eddie answers automatically, because this is a question she asks every time they pick her up. He still looks horrified for being exposed to a whole class of preschoolers as a secret romantic, as if they’re going to tell everyone. 

Buck’s sympathetic to his cause, because the embarrassment has crept down his spine and rooted itself there.

“Better get this one home, then. Thanks for everything, Ms. Roshan,” he says lamely, trying to excuse them as fast as possible. He reaches for Eddie’s hand almost on auto-pilot before thinking better of it, saying his goodbyes and excusing himself. 

From the sounds of it, Eddie’s not far behind but Buck’s poor husband looks mortified, even as he buckles Vera into her car seat. Buck switches the AC on full blast to cool some of the heat in his face as he waits for Eddie to slide into the passenger seat. Sandalwood cologne precedes him, the familiar scent grounding enough for Buck to settle back in his seat.

“She’s a menace on wheels,” Eddie mutters quietly, pressing his palms to his face and groaning loudly into them, now that they’re in the safety of their car. “Do we really use pet names that much?”

Buck pulls out of the preschool parking lot, thinking of how to answer. “Well, I don’t know? I guess? How are we supposed to know? It’s not like we’re counting.”

“This is so embarrassing,” Eddie groans again, slumping in his chair as he peeks in the rearview mirror at a blissfully unaware Vera, staring up at the TV playing old Popeye cartoons in the backseat. 

“At least she’s growing up knowing her parents love each other,” Buck points out, remembering Roshan’s words. “Remember what her teacher said?”

Both Buck and Eddie grew up with parents who barely tolerated each other most of the time, so they both know what it’s like to never see love between them. Being able to set a healthy example for their kids is gratifying to a part of Buck that always fears that he’s messing this whole parenting thing up, and he knows it’s the same for Eddie.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie concedes, his hand dropping to Buck’s knee. Buck’s free hand comes up to slot in the spaces between his spread fingers. “I’m still mortified, though. I’m never going to be able to look at her teachers ever again.”

Eddie, who feels embarrassment more keenly than most, is probably going to lament about this for the next sixty years.

“If you stop using them, I’ll kill you,” Buck threatens, only half-joking. He refuses to let this incident take away the gooey feeling that even six years of marriage and countless reiterations hasn’t been able to take away from the pet names. 

Eddie grins at him, and Buck relaxes in his seat, spinning Eddie’s wedding ring around between his thumb and index finger as he drives. “It’ll take much more than a class of preschoolers to make me stop.”

“Chris is going to get a kick out of this, though,” Buck tells him as he pulls into their driveway, clocking the time. An hour yet until their oldest gets home, which is plenty of time for them to get over the secondhand embarrassment of being caught out as a pair of saps.

(Or, so he thinks.)

They manage to push the incident from their mind for the rest of the afternoon, Eddie carrying a sleepy Vera into the house while Buck trails after them, locking the car and disappearing into their room to change into comfortable clothes.

It doesn’t take long for Eddie to join him on the couch, now wearing a bedraggled old T-shirt of Buck’s as he flops down beside him. Buck immediately drops his head into his husband’s lap and gets comfy with his legs stretched over the arm of the couch, smiling when Eddie’s fingers automatically weave through his hair.

“She falls asleep so quickly. I’m jealous of my own four-year-old,” Eddie tells him, tugging absently on Buck’s hair as he talks. His nails scrape back and forth in a pattern that lulls Buck towards oblivion, sparks trickling down his spine with each pass. Warmth unfolds at the quiet act of intimacy, and Buck thinks that if he could, he’d be purring right now.

“ I’m probably going to fall asleep on you if you keep doing that,” Buck replies, wrapping his hand around Eddie’s wrist to hold onto his partner instead. Eddie moves to splay his palm across Buck’s chest instead, turning the TV on.

“Well, at least we’re raising two young, popular, funny geniuses. Chris used to get pretty much the same comments from his teachers,” Eddie says after a while. 

Buck tears his eyes away from where a contestant on Eddie’s baking show just burned her cake, peering up at his husband. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. You should’ve heard the puns Carla and I had to put up with during his first parent-teacher meeting. The one where we found out that Chris was telling his classmates that tsunamis aren’t scary.” 

Buck remembers laughing over the puns with Carla, staring incredulously at Eddie and cringes a little at the memory as he looks back at the TV.

During that year, if someone had told Buck that one day, he and Eddie would go to their daughter’s parent-teacher meeting together, married and in love, he would’ve laughed in their face. The thought of marrying his best friend, and getting Chris and Eddie in his life permanently, would've been nothing more than a pipe dream.

Buck still can't believe the sheer number of turns their lives took after that one conference. Even after all these years of being Eddie’s partner in every way, he sometimes can’t believe it, even though he wears the proof on his finger.

With Vera asleep, the house is silent enough that the afternoon passes slowly, Eddie tracing the lines on Buck’s graphic T-shirt and Buck pressing back into him for this rare moment of peace.

“Is it really that embarrassing?” he asks after another contestant drops his entire bowl of frosting on the floor. “If they know?”

He wonders it out loud, because now that it’s ebbing off, Buck feels a weird sort of pride settle in his chest, wrapping around the places Eddie lives in him. It feels like they’ve reached some sort of benchmark, a goal that Buck’s always yearned for without any expectation of actually meeting it.

Eddie snorts. “Nah. Now that I think about it, I like the idea of Chris and Vera seeing us like this — in love and happy.”

His husband’s expression matches the thoughts running through Buck’s head, his warm eyes a shade darker than usual as he looks down at Buck. E ddie’s fingers tap out Buck’s heartbeat over where it lies in his chest. The words make something swell in Buck’s chest at being loved like Eddie loves him, of having this family where he doesn’t repeat the mistakes his parents made with him and Maddie.

The look on his face is peaceful, serene and content, but Buck can’t help but remember the very start of their relationship, where pulling those confessions from either of them would’ve been like pulling teeth. So much to risk, after everything they’d been through, but somehow, it was that stipulation that got them together in the end, anyway.

“We deserve to be happy, too,” Eddie had whispered over a mountain of soapy dishes, his hair falling in his eyes from his shower and entirely vulnerable as he met Buck’s gaze with his own. “And I’m happy when I’m with you.”

“You make me happy,” Buck had said, and kissed him.

That had been that. Eddie admitting that he was happy was worth far more than any grand proposal or love confession, because all Buck had ever wanted to do was see that contentment in his best friend.

He just didn’t know it could come about because of him.

“Yeah, me too,” Buck says now, working around the lump in his throat at the memories Eddie’s words bring back. Eddie’s fingers slot with his own, his ring bumping against Buck’s, and absently, Buck presses his lips to his knuckles.

Despite their conversation, the mortification of being caught out by their daughter’s teacher comes back in full force when Chris comes home.

“How’d the meeting go?” Chris asks, dropping into the chair across from them. He drops his bag haphazardly on the coffee table, but it only takes one look from Eddie for him to set it carefully next to the couch instead.

(Even if he rolls his eyes as he does it.)

“Vera has stuff to show you,” Buck tells him, gesturing to the folder lying on the table. Chris makes no move to pick it up, nodding along as if he knows that only Vera’s allowed to show him, on her own time.

“Apparently, Buck and I are too in love for the little menace,” Eddie grumbles, amusement belaying his true feelings on the matter. 

“Oh, the pet names,” he nods knowingly, leaning back to flick through his phone like nothing’s ever happened.

Buck sits up instantly, turning a glare on their oldest. “You knew? ”

“Of course I knew,” he scoffs. “Vera asked me what your names were after she came home from school that day, which was a weird question until she told me what happened.”

Eddie covers his face with a hand as he pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something about meddling children and how they’re too clever for him to keep up with. Through his fingers, Buck can see the bright red flush that seems to be a permanent addition to Eddie’s face as of two hours ago.

Buck thinks that maybe he shouldn’t really be surprised. Chris and Vera are as thick as thieves, and there are hardly any secrets between them. More than once, Buck and Eddie have found themselves overpowered by the sheer might of their kids, and the two know it, absolutely unabashed in exploiting their weaknesses.

“You could’ve warned us!” Buck throws his hands up, entirely exasperated.

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

Sixteen has apparently brought out Christopher’s inner comedian, because he grins cheekily, entirely unrepentant and most likely enjoying just how fidgety Eddie’s getting. Buck smacks his husband’s shin to get him to settle down, flopping back onto Eddie’s lap. This time, he lets Eddie take the weight of his shoulders, too — like the weighted stuffed animal Chim got him one year — in hopes of calming whatever lingering anxiety he can sense radiating off of him. 

“What about everything else?”

“All good,” Eddie tells him, recalling what Roshan had told them. “We just need to keep practicing the things she’s already learned so she doesn’t forget them.”

“Chris!” Vera’s yell echoes through the house, clearly having clocked her brother’s presence. Buck mentally counts the seconds as her little footfalls race down the hallway.

“That’s too much energy for just waking up,” Eddie mumbles out of the corner of his mouth. “We’re going to regret that when she doesn’t sleep tonight.”

“Took her five seconds,” Buck whispers back, watching as their daughter ignores them completely to jump onto the sofa next to her brother.

Eddie wraps an arm tighter around Buck as they abandon the baking show to watch Vera excitedly show Chris all the drawings and worksheets in the folder. The couch isn’t big enough to handle her excitement, and papers flutter uselessly to the ground as Chris fawns over each one.

Buck’s a little starstruck, if he’s honest, because this is his family and he gets to have this after years and years of feeling alone — after years of searching for where he belongs, only to end up back with the man who’s made him feel like something from the day he entered Buck’s life.

He thinks the universe cut him a pretty damn good deal.

“I would take being mortified in front of the entire damn world if it means we get this,” Eddie whispers to him, turning a bright smile down on Buck — the one that softens the planes of his face and lights up his eyes.

Buck reaches up to trace the dimple that creases his cheek, pulling him into a chaste kiss before turning back towards their kids.

“I know, babe. I know.”

[contemplativepancakes]

what I'm afraid to say

another train fic! (warning for canon typical violence)

five times geralt tries to tell jaskier he loves him, + one time he does

part one | next

Geralt drums his fingers on the inn table, thinking about the contract he pulled from the notice board earlier. He looks over the brim of his mug of ale at Jaskier crooning in the middle of the room, and he tries to ignore the funny things it's doing to his heart.

He wonders if he should get that looked at.

Geralt sighs as he drops his mental facade; at the very least, he always tries to be honest with himself. He thinks... he thinks he might love Jaskier, despite everything, or maybe because of it. So many people in his life are connected to him by fate, by something that's too big for Geralt to fathom and impossible to ignore, but Jaskier—isn't.

He's stuck around because he wanted to, for whatever godsforsaken reason, even when there's times Geralt wonders why he puts up with it.

Geralt thinks maybe....he ought to finally say something to Jaskier. Geralt's not sure what exactly Jaskier gets out of trailing after him, so maybe it's possible Jaskier feels the same way?

Geralt shakes his head. He's a mutant; no human is ever going to be deluded enough to love him.

Geralt downs the rest of his ale in a single gulp.

-

The next day, Geralt walks all over town, trying to flesh out whatever monster he's dealing with. Eventually, he decides it must be a cockatrice, and he heads back to the inn to tell Jaskier.

“Of course,” Jaskier sighs, tapping his fingernails on the table. “Leave me here while you deal with all the excitement.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls in warning. “I'm sure you can find someone else to pester for the evening.”

“A pest? Me?” Jaskier asks indignantly.

“Yes, you. I'll see you later, okay?”

Jaskier huffs before giving Geralt his most winning smile. “What if I go with you?”

“I mean it. Stay here,” Geralt says, trying not to think about the ways Jaskier might try to occupy himself without Geralt there.

“Come on, Geralt, who's going to protect me from the cuckolded husbands?”

Geralt sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Jaskier is bound to get in trouble if Geralt leaves him alone. “Fine. But you're staying with Roach.”

Jaskier hops up with a grin, clapping his hands together.

Geralt checks his potion inventory one last time before hefting his bag onto his shoulder. He makes his way out to Roach and pats a hand down her snout, letting his fingers linger over the velvety fur of her nose. She snuffs at him, searching for a treat, and Geralt quirks a grin before he opens up his saddle bags to retrieve a sugar cube.

Jaskier moves up from behind him to give Roach a pat down her flank. She tolerates the touch instead of nipping at him, so Geralt will take that as a good omen.

Geralt helps Jaskier into the saddle before swinging up behind him, trying not to think about the warmth of Jaskier's back pressed to his chest too hard. Geralt digs his heels into Roach's side, and she starts off at a steady trot. The motion makes Jaskier bump into him maddeningly often, and Geralt clenches his jaw in his attempt to not react.

Not soon enough, they arrive at what appears to be the cockatrice's territory, if the gouges in the tree bark is any indication.

Geralt scrambles down from Roach and gathers his supplies from her saddlebag, downing some Cat so he can see more easily in the rapidly fading light.

“Be safe,” Jaskier says, an odd expression on his face.

Geralt looks down at the back of his hand, and he sees the tinge of his veins already turning a little black, and he flushes with shame at what Jaskier must think of him.

“You be good,” Geralt counters gruffly, turning away before Jaskier's opinion of him sinks any lower.

He pulls his silver sword out of its sheath and follows the trail until he reaches a cave that looks like some place a cockatrice would settle. He looks up and sees a rocky outcrop on top of the hill the cave is nestled into.

He climbs up and hauls himself over the ledge and immediately sees a large nest. Fuck. A protective monster mother is never something he likes to deal with.

He looks around, but he doesn't see any signs of the cockatrice. He casts a quick look at Jaskier, tucked away into the treeline and leaning against Roach.

There's two tiny cockatrices in the nest and two more eggs. Geralt brings his sword back, but he hesitates. Even if they're monsters, they're too small to be the culprits of the farmer's woe who had hired him.

Geralt whirls around as he hears Jaskier cry out for him. He looks up and curses as he sees the mother speeding back to the nest. Sure enough, there's a cow clutched in her claws.

Geralt raises his sword, but the monster changes its path from Geralt to Jaskier, and Geralt's brain quits working for a second. Geralt shouts, trying to attract her attention back to him, but it doesn't work; the cockatrice drops the cow and flies towards Jaskier. Jaskier tries to run, but she scoops him up instead, digging her claws into his soft flesh. Geralt can see blood blooming on Jaskier’s white shirt, and he clenches his jaw helplessly. Jaskier stabs the cockatrice’s foot, making her screech and drop him to the ground. Jaskier moans faintly, crumpled in a heap as he brings his hands to press against his torso.

“Jaskier!” Geralt shouts, voice hoarse as he tries to be heard over the din of the cockatrice's wings beating.

Jaskier should have been nowhere near here; this was a terrible idea and all Geralt's fault. He never should have let Jaskier come, and at the very least he should have insisted he wait at least a mile away, but he didn't, and now—

Everything in him calls for him to go to Jaskier and make sure he's okay, but neither of them is going to make it out of here if he doesn't deal with the cockatrice first. She's rushing back at Geralt now that Jaskier is on the ground, and Geralt shifts his grip on the hilt of his sword.

A male appears over the tree line, and any remaining sympathy Geralt had for the little ones flees as cold dread takes its place.

He spares one last look at Jaskier and hefts his sword, charging at the female and rolling out of the way as she spits poison at him. He comes out of his dodge in a crouch, and he leaps out of the way as the cockatrice's pointed tail swings around at him. He dances around it, all too aware that each second he spends doing this is one more second that Jaskier could be bleeding out, could be dying for all he knows, until, finally, he manages to get behind the beast and skewer his sword through her spinal column. He pulls his blade out quickly, hardly registering the viscera splattering on him.

Geralt wants to take a moment to breathe, but the male is rapidly advancing on him. Geralt glances over at Jaskier, taking heart in the fact that he at least has had the presence of mind to put a hand over his side to try and quell the bleeding, but a pool of blood is growing much too quickly for Geralt's peace of mind.

In the moment he's distracted, the cockatrice lunges forward at him and scrapes a claw down his chest, slicing through the armor and grazing his skin. The wounds are shallow and knit themselves back together quickly, but Geralt feels the poison seeping into his system and slowing him down. He needs to end this sooner rather than later.

Geralt squeezes his eyes shut for a second before feinting to the left and then lunging to the right. The cockatrice takes the bait and leaves his right side unguarded, leaving an opening for Geralt to plunge his sword just under the monster's rib cage and angle it up to the heart.

The cockatrice lets out a terrible screech that makes Geralt want to clap his hands over his ears, and the monsters still in the nest start screeching back. The high pitched noise grating on his nerves, exacerbated by his potions increasing his sensitivity.

The cockatrice shudders again, and Geralt rips his sword out, hot blood gushing out after it. In the thrashing, the coackatrice's tail comes from behind Geralt and sweeps him off his feet, knocking him onto his ass with a huff of breath.

The cockatrice stills, and Geralt scrambles back to his feet. He directs a blast of igni at the nest, taking a moment to feel sorry as the babies scream and the smell of burning flesh fills his nostrils. It's enough to make him nauseous, to feel just as monstrous as what he just killed, but he has Jaskier to worry about; he has to go.

He scrambles down from the hill and sprints back to Jaskier, dropping to his knees by Jaskier's side as he tries to catch his breath. He pushes Jaskier's hands out of the way, assessing the damage and letting out a sigh of relief when it doesn't look like it's too deep.

Oxidized blood covers Jaskier's hands, and Geralt tries to calm his already churning stomach. “You're going to be fine,” he murmurs, cursing himself for not having any bandages.

He tears off Jaskier's damaged doublet and rips it in half, wishing Jaskier wasn't so out of it that he doesn't even chastise Geralt for ruining it. He wraps it tightly around Jaskier's side.

When he's finished, he looks down at the blood covering his hands, at what's wormed its way under his nails that he's going to have to scrub to clean.

Jaskier stirs then, stretching and looking up at Geralt.

Geralt thinks back to his thoughts from the day before, the way he had wanted to finally tell Jaskier he loved him. He looks back at Jaskier and the question on his face, but he can't help but notice how pale his skin is and the shaky breaths. This is what happens when Geralt gets close to someone.

He bites his tongue.

-

next part will be up tomorrow and linked here!

[glennjaminhow]

Set after 1x04 "Charlie Has Cancer"

Taken from my series The Reasons Why

~

“We gotta get that money back from The Waitress,” Dennis says as he grabs two beers and a bag of frozen peas. He hands the peas to Mac, who accepts them immediately and eagerly. “For your eye.”

Mac winces as he shields his broken face with frozen vegetables. “Yeah, dude. She’s such a bitch.”

“So what’s the plan?” Dennis asks. He takes a swig of beer. “Oh, I know. We get a car – not the Rover because the Rover is awesome – and leave it in her driveway. She wakes up in the morning like, ‘hey, what’s this car doing here?’ and that’s when she finds the keys. Of course, she drives it around anyway because she’s a piece of shit. Meanwhile, we call the police and say there’s a dirty blond bitch driving our stolen car. The cops show up. The Waitress is hauled to jail. End of our problems.”

Mac squints with one working eye. “How do we get the money back though, Den?”

“That plan is foolproof, and you know it,” Dennis says. “I need your brain power too. You can’t just expect me to keep coming up with plans the rest of our lives.”

“Whatever, bro. I’m gonna go crash. Your sister’s giant man claw really fucked up my head.”

“What? Right now?”

“No, tomorrow, Dennis. Yes, right now.”

“I can get you Tylenol if you just ask nicely. No need to be a bitch about it.”

Mac huffs. “Dude, shut up. I really do have a headache.”

“Oh,” Dennis says, glancing down at his hands before looking back up. “Well, take my bed then. Your mattress is shit for headaches.”

The last time Mac had a headache, it was the middle of June, and Dennis found him out on the couch with the AC blasting and a pillow bunched up around his neck. Dennis dragged him into his room without a second thought because Mac genuinely looked uncomfortable. They do this for each other all the time. They help one another out of jams. Just last week, Dennis was overheated after a day at the park, and Mac pointed three fans at him while rubbing ice cubes on his back.

So, yeah, it’s normal. He hates Mac because Mac is annoying, but he doesn’t want Mac to be sick or sad or hurt.

“Are you sure?” Mac asks, pirate eying him skeptically.

Dennis nods. “Yeah, man. How about you go take a shower? I’ll get the room ready, and then you can lay down.”

“No shower,” Mac whines. “I’m so tired.”

Dennis ushers him into the bathroom anyway; Mac drags his feet. “The warm water will help with your headache. I promise.”

He cranks the water almost as hot as it’ll go. He puts a pair of boxers near the sink, along with three Tylenol and a glass of water. Mac showers while Dennis changes into pajamas too. It’s weird here without Mac being awake, so Dennis sees no reason to hang out on the couch while Mac coops himself up in here. Plus, it’s good to be close by just in case Mac needs something, like more water or medicine or a midnight snack.

“You don’t have to do this, Den,” Mac says once he’s fresh from the shower, towel around his waist and messy hair dripping. The bruise on his face is streaked purple and red. He looks horrible. “I can just go to my room.”

Dennis shrugs. “It’s fine, Mac. Your pillows suck ass anyway.”

Mac nods, but he doesn’t say anything more. It’s one of the main signs he isn’t feeling well. Mac talks. Mac talks a lot. He doesn’t have favorite subjects or reasons behind the words. He just talks. But Dennis feels this twinge in his chest when Mac doesn’t talk, like something is missing.

Eventually, Mac settles down, head cradled by two memory foam pillows, a bucket nearby in case of an emergency (Mac is prone to migraines, so Dennis can never be too careful) and bundled in Dennis’ comforter. Dennis clicks off the light once he stops shifting and moving around. He slides under the covers and curls up on his side.

It's been a crazy day. Between Charlie faking cancer and both of them believing their best friend had cancer, it's a wonder they're function like normal humans. Usually, after days like these, it's best to get smashed, get laid, and forget about it. But Dee punched Mac because she, like The Waitress, is also a fucking bitch. Dennis almost jabs himself in the thigh with the pen on his nightstand just to see if Dee will feel it too, like some sort of twin connection, but he doesn't want to freak Mac out.

(But it'd be great revenge after 28 years of dealing with Dee's shit.)

"What would you have done if Charlie really had cancer?" Mac whispers, voice strained.

Dennis inhales sharply and places his hands behind his head. "I dunno. It'd be weird, right?"

"So weird," Mac agrees.

"I guess there's perks, though, if you think about it. We'd probably never have to pay for anything again. Everyone would just feel sorry for Charlie and then bestow gifts upon us."

Mac snorts. "'Bestow.'"

"It's a real word, Mac."

"I know, dude. I'm not an idiot. But no one actually uses 'bestow' in a real sentence."

"I do," Dennis says. "It's an awesome word."

Mac scoots a little closer to him. "Is it bad if my head still hurts?"

"If it still hurts in the morning, let me know, and I'll go slit Sweet Dee's tires."

"She almost brained me with those scaly knuckles," Mac whispers, his words slurring.

"Goodnight, Mac."

"Yeah. Goodnight, Dennis."

Sometime, in the middle of the night, Mac rolls over. His snoring is hot on Dennis' neck. Mac hides his face in Dennis' shoulder blades; Dennis smiles. His heartbeat is flush against his skin. He doesn't know why he feels this way - so comfortable and relaxed - around Mac when he's never felt it around anyone else.

Huh.

Maybe Mac just gets him.

Whatever.

Dennis grins and lets sleep tug him under.

[lihikainanea]

can you please write smth where tiger's having a rough migraine but she wont tell bill bc she knew he'd drop work and would be at home in a snap of fingers if she told him smth, and then when he comes home he finds her in her room with all her blinds shut and doors closed to not let the light come through bc it makes her head ache more and its hurting so much already that she had thrown up a couple of times and he's worried and upset that she didnt call him but then takes care of her?

oh goddddd nani babes this is so sweet. As a fellow migraine sufferer, god I feel junk punched by this one.

I don’t know about any of you, sometimes I can feel a migraine come on from a day or two before--something will just feel off, I’ll get a nosebleed, or I have one of those “haha I’m so stressed god it’s a miracle I haven’t gotten a migraine yet” moments and then the next day--BAM. Flattened. Sometimes too, though, they just come out of nowhere. I’ll be fine, and then my vision will skew, my stomach will turn, and I know I have about a 5-10 minute window before I’m in some serious pain.

I get all the symptoms, too. Nausea. Extreme sensitivity to light. Blurred vision, or total blackout vision. Splitting pain. If I’m lucky, it only lasts a day. I’ve had some bad ones that last a long ass time and it’s awful.

So like, look--maybe tiger feels one coming on. Maybe Bill is on set--he’s in town, just on set for 16 hours every day--and tiger has been working like the boss bitch she is. But one morning at work--she feels it. That drilling sensation above her left eye--it’s a headache for now, but the minute the vision in her eye goes wonky she knows what she’s in store for. She quickly packs her shit, pops a few really strong Tylenol in an effort to fight it off (sometimes it works), and she heads home. She has a routine, one that works half the time--some strong Tylenol, a whole bottle of gatorade, and ten minutes later--two espressos. Hydration and caffeine can sometime nip it in the bud, if she’s lucky.

She’s not so lucky this time. She gets these, usually with the change of seasons or the barometric pressure being all off. She half contemplates calling Bill, but when she squints her eyes enough to see the time she realizes that he’s only been on set for two hours, and probably hasn’t even made it out of the make up chair yet. This shoot is a short one and every hour counts, and she can’t ruin his day.

Instead she stumbles to try and get her stuff ready for the long haul--cold compresses, warm compresses, her bottle of pain meds, some water. She barely makes it to bed.

And that’s exactly where she proceeds to stay for the next 14 hours.

The poor bean, it’s awful. The pain is so bad at one point that she dry heaves. And even if she wants to call Bill now, there’s no fucking way she can even function long enough to do that. She can barely speak. She’s just curled up in bed, in complete darkness, trying to relax and not tense up, whimpering in pain.

Bill wraps around midnight--he calls her, but it goes to voicemail. He thinks maybe she might be asleep, but something doesn’t sit right because she hasn’t texted him all day--and when she goes to bed, she always tells him goodnight. It’s a sweet sentiment, but also a warning that his lanky ass better not make too much noise when he comes home, lest he wake her up. He shakes off a feeling of malaise, and heads home.

But the hairs on his neck stand on end when he pulls up and every single one of the lights inside are off. He can’t explain it, but his Little Human alert is dinging furiously and he doesn’t know why. Taking the steps two and three at a time, he swings open the door and calls out to her.

But like, listen--the door whipping open and shutting harshly after, Bill’s loud voice calling for her? Fuck man, that’s torture when you have a migraine. And all he hears is her whimper, her choking sob, and he knows right away. And while he wants to be angry, his first instinct is just...concern. Care. He heads to the bedroom immediately, trying to walk as softly as he can.

“Oh kid,” he whispers lowly. He approaches slowly, crouching on her side of the bed and putting a soothing hand on her. She’s scrunched up so small, tensed in a tiny ball, in way too much pain.

“Billy,” she croaks out, and it’s half sob, half relief, half whimper of pain.

“It’s okay tiger, I’m here,” he whispers, “I got you.”

He’s trying not to talk too much because even a whisper is too loud, and tiger is just kind of full on crying now which is no doubt causing her even more pain.

“Hush,” he soothes, “I’ll be right back.”

There are a few things that help ease some of the pain, but more often than not, she just has to let it pass on its own. He gets some room temperature water and a straw, to help her swallow some more meds. He gets some new cold compresses, and heats up her warm ones. Granny made a ginger tea, a home remedy, that used to help with tiger’s symptoms--so he makes a mug of that.

He makes his way back to the room, puts the straw to her lips for a sip. When she’s done he just gently pushes two pain pills between her lips, giving her the straw back so she can swallow.

He doesn’t want to move her just yet--he will eventually, but he’ll let the pain meds kick in a tad first. Instead he just gently--oh, so gently--replaces the warm compress on her neck, places a new cool one on her forehead. She flinches at that one, and he apologizes softly.

She can’t sit up and sip the tea, and he purposely popped a few ice cubes in so it wouldn’t scald him. But then he just real gently dips two fingers in, and holds them to her mouth. She sucks the tea off of them that way--and he keeps doing it. Just getting a bit of liquid on his fingers and holding them to her mouth so she could wrap her lips around.

His other hand is on her somewhere--her thigh, her side. He wants to weave it through her hair but he can’t touch her head when she’s like this, even the softest head scritchies would still cause her too much pain. When she’s halfway done her tea, he starts on the second part of what usually helps her--just holding her tight, giving her something else to focus on, and pressing on a few pressure points that she taught him.

“I’m gonna move you kid,” he whispers. and she stirs a little. he climbs onto the bed as gently as he can, gathering her in his arms as he sits with his back to the headboard. She lets out an agonized whine.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “It’ll feel better in a second.”

He scoots her up onto him a bit more, cradles her head to his chest. He pats gently at her stomach with one hand, using his other one to pinch hard between her forefinger and her thumb. He alternates between pressing down hard on it, and rubbing slow circles.

It helps, but nothing but time will make it completely go away.

I’ll bet he falls asleep like that, doesn't he? Because pain is an exhausting thing, and after so many hours of it, tiger’s body just kind of shuts down and knocks itself out--and miraculously, she falls asleep. He hears her breaths evening out, feels some of the tension leaving her, and he too kind of sags in relief. He doesn’t dare move once she drifts off, not wanting to wake her. He knows how painful these are for her, and he’s going to have a long talk with her tomorrow about how she should have called him. How he doesn’t ever want her to be in pain like this, for that long, alone again. 

But for that night, he drifts off real soon after she does. Propped up against the headboard like that, her all curled up in his arms.

[mxvladdy]

Dinner for Two

Chapters: 1-2-3

“Still the prettiest peach this side of Mississippi.” Jesse murmurs soothingly, rubbing your back. The sound of your retching not deterring him in the least bit. You throw him a scathing look, swatting his hand away feebly. “ Naaaw~ None of that now.” He smiles, adjusting his hold on your curls. Jesse scooches closer coming to rest his shaggy head on the narrow lip of the tub. “It’s chilling down here ain’t it?” He asks, ignoring the protesting in his knees and back. Whatever he felt resting on the tile was probably tenfold for you. You nod pitifully, your stomach rolling with the motion. “Can you hang tight while I get ya something to rest on? Doubt those pretty little knees appreciate this.”  He leaves only after seeing your shaky little thumbs up, too caught up in the toilet bowl to do much else.

Everything hurt; the bathroom tile sharp under your throbbing knees. Head pounding from a pressure headache. Yet, the swelling of your tender joints and head was nothing compared to the rolling in your gut. It had woken you from a fitful sleep, the gurgling mess sending you here for your almost daily routine. It was one thing after another today it seems. Work had been an absolute bitch. The med bay filled with new recruits fresh off of training and a few veterans who overdid it (Reinhardt). Even with the lessened workload, you were tired, nauseous, and itchy.

So stupidly itchy.

Retching weakly once more you were grateful that nothing had come up this time. Now if the spinning would just stop… A soft blanket drapes over you, the soft worn fabric hugging you close. Your boyfriend sits back down patiently, ready for the long haul on the bathroom floor.

“I feel gross,” You spit into the toilet, rubbing the swelling of your abdomen. “ And hungry.” Jesse hums tucking the ends of the blanket around you.

“Want me ta get ya somethin’ from the mess hall?” Tempting... you shake your head in the end. You were both barely standing. Him fresh off a mission and you on the final stretch of your third trimester. You watch Jesse sway where he sat, fighting the ever present need to close his eyes; hell bent on suffering with you. “Need me to get Ang’? This should have passed by now right?” Jesse looked you over, brows crunching cutely. Adorable. You explain that there is no need, making a point to smile. He relaxes a little, tension easing from his body. “Sure, Sure?”

“Sure, sure.” You reaffirm pushing away from the toilet. “Give me a minute to freshen up?” He hesitates for a moment before leaving the bathroom, leaving the door ajar. After he leaves you flush and tidy up the bathroom, brushing your teeth twice. The ginger toothpaste Ana gifted you working miracles for your queasiness.

Finally feeling more like yourself again you shuffle out of the bathroom and to Jesse. Approaching him you reach out making small grasping motions at your boyfriend. He lifts you effortlessly cradling you in a tender embrace. “Gods-I’m so exhausted. We are so exhausted.” You amend patting your belly absentmindedly.

Jesse chuckles kissing you in between your brows. “Tell me ‘bout it doll. I think my damn mechanical hand is cramping from all the mission debriefs I’ve been writin’. But, I got two days off startin’ tomorrow.” He waggles his eyebrows playfully. “How ‘bout we don’t leave this room unless the base is on fire?”  

Oh, that would be lovely. You smile into Jesse’s warm chest, lulled into a light doze by the steady beat of your lover’s heart next to your ear. The gentle sway in his gait calming your squirming baby too. “I’d love to-but I have work.” You look up meekly.

“Ah~ sweet bean, ya know you can get off. The whole med staff is soft on ya. ‘Sides, I know for a fact that they are trying to bench you.” He hits you with a sly wink, tone light but reprimanding. You sputter flustered. “Wha’” Jesse grins. “Didn’t think none of them would talk to your baby daddy?”    

You laugh surprised by his choice of words, smacking him playfully. “Don’t call yourself that!”

He snorts at your little swats.” Well, what else could I be?” He teases rubbing his nose against yours, loving the little giggles that escape you.

The mood changes with the silence. Neither of you had given it much thought what your status was now, or if it has changed. Been a little too busy in the now to think about the future. Well- you did but have yet to bring it up. Jesse shifts you in his hold, clearing his throat trying to hide his discomfort.

“What about a rottin’ tottin’ cowboy?” You smile.

Jesse guffaws brightly, almost dropping you in his mirth. “Much obliged ma’am. But that all?” He pries gently fighting off a brewing smile. You fain thinking. Finger tapping your lips. “Ahh come on.” He pouts dropping you both on your well loved couch. The old leather creaked under the sudden weight but cups Jesse’s form. Grabbing the blanket before you could hog it all he wraps it around you both. With a little squirming, you got nestled comfortably in his wide lap. You trade sweet kisses and gentle touches.

“Can I call you mine?” You whisper, pulling away after a particularly deep kiss. You already knew his answer but wanted to hear it all the same. “Stretch marks, weird hair growth and all?” You watch Jesse’s eyes widen, then warm. His rich brown gaze radiating with something unfathomably tender. Without breaking eye contact he takes your hands in his, kissing your fingertips in the comfortable silence.

“Ya know you had me from the word go-'' He said, voice husky with emotions. “Knew I wanted ta be in your life since Ilios.” Your heart skips a beat, your mind clouding over.

It was now or never.

“Wait here,” You extract yourself from your shared cocoon of red and gold, grunting unflatteringly when your knees popped.  Ignoring Jesse’s inquisitive look you pad softly over the kitchenette. This was the perfect place to hide it really. As much as your cowboy loved to snack, he knew never to touch your pregnancy munchies.

He learned that the hard way.

With a grin of triumph you grab your prize. Returning as quickly as you could waddle. “Thought you weren’t hungry sweet bean.” Jesse jokes helping you back into the blanket cocoon.

“Changed my mind.” You pop a piece of popcorn between your lips grinning up at him. Your fingers grazed the hard box resting at the bottom each time you take a piece. Your heart flutters with trepidation, it was only a matter of time.

It takes an hour and a half before he cracks. Jesse let you enjoy your sweets in silence, opting to open up his com projecting his favorite T.V. show on to the empty wall. “Can I have some sugar, sugar?” You smirk into your box eyes forward watching the old cowboys on screen hoot and holler. While he never would sneak your food, he damn well wasn’t above begging for some. Wordlessly you hand him the box.

“Hmmm-Thought you had eaten more than that,” He comments idly, shaking the bottom heavy box. “I went and ordered another 3 -pack already.”

“Well, feel free to polish off the rest then.” Leaning back on his broad chest you tilt your chin up, getting ready for a whole different type of show. Well, ain’t you sweet. He jokes, shooting you a quick wink tilting the box to his mouth. A few kernels and bits of chocolate slide out, crumbs mostly. You had finished the box halfway through the second episode. Jesse eyes you pouting at the thought of being handed an empty box. But he shook it again, knocking the box back once more with gusto.

While you couldn’t see the box, you heard it. The telltale shift of crumbs and slow slide of velvet on cardboard, then the clink of wood meeting teeth followed by a surprised grunt. “ The hell .” You can feel the rumble of his curse down your spine. Time slows as he shifts sitting up straight to catch the box that had tumbled down to his collarbone.  

“Babe?”His voice trembles, eyes glued to the tiny black cube.

“I can’t exactly kneel,” You start fidgeting with a stray lock of hair. “But I meant it when I said I wanna call you mine.” You state it as steadily as you could but couldn’t control the wobble in your voice.

“Babe…” He looks up in disbelief, eyes shiny. In all his years, after all his mistakes. He grips the box close to his chest, knuckles turning white under the pressure. He figured this would come up one day. Farrah had been harping on him for months now. Sending threatening emails with magazines attached. Talking a little too loudly about great vacation spots for couples. But damn him if he wasn’t a coward through and through. He would have been happy being right where he was. Or he had thought he had. Visions of the future he thought untamable to the likes of him flashing before him.  

“Jesse?” A warm hand on his cheek pulling him back to the present. “I know we never talked about it in length or seriously- an’ I- this isn’t about your child either.” You place a hand on your midriff licking at your dry lips. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I’m fine with this staying in the dating territory too.” You weren’t.

“Wha- Oh, Oh darlin’ No. ” Jesse recovers gripping your shoulders. “It just took me by surprise is all. A good surprise, the best damn surprise.” He chuckles looking again at the simple box. “Thought guys were supposed ta’ do the askin’.” He pops the lid and slides the ring on without preamble taking in the way the lights bounce of the polished metal. One look at his face and the tension leave your body as quickly as it had come.

“Never were the couple to do things by the book ya?” You glance theatrically at your belly, pulling a short breathy laugh from your boyfriend-no fiance .

“Reckon not.” He kisses you once more feeling that smile he always loved spreading across your lips.

“So, I’ll take this as a yes?”

“Oh God ya-just pick the time and place baby. Sure as sin I’ll be at the end of that aisle waitin’ for ya.” He kisses you again. “Guess I gotta go tux hunting huh?” He beams down at you, possibly more excited than you. “Jesus! I gotta tell Gabe! He never thought I would get this far, the bastard.” Gitty now, he moves rising up from the couch and grabs his phone eyes alight with newfound energy. Gabe picks up on the first ring and Jesse is off, speaking rapidly in spanish. Proposal. Planning. Beat me to the punch. I told you so. You grin at his wild gestures, his excitement palpable. Your little one felt it too.

“A lot of excitement for one day huh?” You ask the little ripples along your midriff, fingers tracing the movements as they appear. The serialism of it all making your head spin. New plans popping in and out of your mind.

The adrenaline of the past hour leaves you tired, but pleasantly so.  Lounge back on the abandoned sofa you shut your eyes and listen to the baritone reverberating around the room. The residual heat left by your cowboy helping you finally drift off. You woke to cool metal brushing along your cheek. “You going alright doll?” Jesse leans over you gently brushing back at your stray curls.

“Mmmhmm,” You stretch out languidly. “Eventful day is all.” You look around noting that the lights had changed. The once dark room now awash with bright morning light. Shoot, did you sleep through breakfast.

“I bet.” He smiles, eyes glancing to his left hand. “Gabe and Jack say congrats, by the way, an’ we aren’t allowed to get hitched without them present. Also, Gabe has hired himself as our wedding planner heads up.”

You giggle, accepting the help, getting back to your feet. That wasn’t a surprise in the least. You would bet money Jack would weasel into the catering. “Well, I’m glad they approve. Perhaps we should tell the rest, over breakfast?” You hint, offering him your hand. Jesse takes it intertwining his fingers with yours. The ring glistened up at you. Sleek and beautiful on his rich bronze skin. The color of the band complimenting him in every way possible.

“Gladly.”

[notyetneedcoffee]

Birthday Treat Part 4

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Warning: NSFW, 18+ Threesome smut, fluff too!

End of the Mini-Series

o o o o o

“This is all your fault.” You grumbled, arms wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders.  

He bounced you slightly on his back. “I didn’t make you trip.”

“You were chasing me!”

“Oh! You liked it!”

“Children.” Steve barked, then smiled at you both. “Let’s just get you back and have a look at that ankle.”  

“It’s still not my fault.” Bucky pouted as he carried you piggy-back. You licked his ear. “Hey!”

Stepping up the front steps of the cabin, Steve held the door open. Bucky deposited you on the day bed on the screened in porch. “You park it right there, Doll. Don’t move. We’ll be right back.”

Steve and Bucky hauled the picnic supplies into the kitchen. 

It’d been such a sweet surprise. A big quilt spread out in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by tall grass. A cooler held lunch, wine and birthday cupcakes from your favorite bakery. You’d all eaten and played, at least until you fell with spectacular fashion.

“Okay, let’s take a look.” Steve came out and knelt beside you.  

He untied your shoe. You knew it was swollen. It hurt like hell. You tried to hold back the wince as he slipped the shoe off and rolled off your sock. Dark purple bruises surrounded the outside of your ankle, the skin tight from the swelling. Steve hisses through his teeth.

“Ouch, Doll.” Bucky frowned from the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was that bad. Steve, we should get back, get her to a doctor.”

“It’s not broken.” You wiggled your toes and moved your foot ever so slightly. “I don’t want to go back yet.”

Steve felt around your foot, trying to be delicate. “I think you’re right. It’s a sprain, a good one though.” He sighed. “Let’s get it propped up and put some ice on it. We head back tomorrow anyway.”

Bucky came back out with ice in a couple layers of freezer bags. He crushed the cubes with his left hand. “Here, Doll.”

“I want to get changed, first.” You took the ice bag. “Could you get me my jammies?”

He smiled, heading back inside.  

Soon you wore your baggie sleep shorts and matching tank top. Laying on your back on the daybed, foot propped up on two pillows and wrapped with ice, you felt much better. The porch protected you from the direct sun, and the screen kept the bugs away, but a breeze drifted through carrying the smells of the surrounding woods.  

“Hey, look what I found.” Bucky stepped on to the porch with a book in his hand. “Have you read this one?”

It was an old paperback translation of Jules Verne, Steam House. He knew you loved Verne. “Ah, no.”

“Good.” Bucky grinned.  He’d changed into just a pair of sweatpants. Carefully climbing over you, he settled himself on the inside of the daybed, propped up in the corner. He began reading you a tale of a group of Englishmen traveling across India in the 1860’s in a steam powered elephant and Nana Sahib, who was running from an execution order.  

You closed your eyes, listening to the story, getting lost in Bucky’s voice. The throbbing in your foot faded to nothingness. You were so comfortable. After a while a scratching noise drew your attention. Turning your head, your eyes drifted open.

Steve sat in one of the chairs. He held a sketch pad in his lap, pencil in hand. A soft smile touched his lips. “Don’t move, Sweetheart. Just lay back.”

You did, suddenly overwhelmed. Bucky’s warm body beside yours, his voice in your ears. Steve close by, sitting serenely sketching you. So simple. So completely peaceful. Utterly happy.

These moments didn’t happen often. They were so rare, so precious. You wanted to stop time.

“Sweetheart.” Steve whispered, suddenly beside you. His thumb wiping away a tear that slipped from the corner of you eye. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky stopped reading, now leaning over the top of you, concern in his eyes.  

“Nothing.” You smiled, fingers tracing over Steve’s strong jaw. “I’m just really happy. Thank you both for this. I guess I didn’t realize how desperately I needed it.”

Steve kissed you sweetly, gently, before picking up the pad again. Bucky’s lips pressed to your forehead, your cheeks, dusted across your lips. He settled back and began reading again. You listened, falling back into a deep relaxed state.  

You must have fallen asleep because the next time your eyes opened the sky had grown dark. Bucky took the melted ice bag away. “Hey pretty lady, ready to go inside?”

“Sure.” You sat up, but he swept you up in his arms and carried you inside.  

The boys made a delightful dinner. You did nothing except sit with your foot up with another pack of ice on it. After they cleared away the dishes, Steve came back and pulled you back against his chest. “How’s the pain?”

“Not too bad, as long as I don’t move it.” You smiled back at him. “Or put pressure on it.”

“Good to hear.” Bucky grinned, looking particularly mischievous. He lifted the pillows, and your foot, gently from the coffee table to the sofa so you were now spread open, sitting sideways. His hands traced up the insides of your thighs.  

Steve’s mouth nipped at the cord of your neck. His hands snaked around you, under your shirt, to cup your breasts. His touches were slow, unhurried, sure. He breathed into your ear. “Happy Birthday, Sweetheart.”

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair.  

Kneeling on the floor beside the sofa, Bucky moved the baggy, thin, blue shorts aside. He painted wet kissed along your inner thighs, breathing hot air across your sensitive skin. A sigh escaped your lips as his tongue slipped through your folds.  Looking up at you, blue eyes dancing, face between your legs, Bucky hummed in delight. It vibrated over your clit making your shiver.  

You reached behind you, trying to get a hold of Steve. He shifted and you stroked him through his sweatpants. He groaned into your ear, rocking his hips closer. “Steve, want to, ah” Bucky added his fingers to his assault on your cunt. “to taste you.”

He slipped from behind you, tucking a pillow behind you. He stepped out of his sweats. You wrapped a hand around his cock, just as Bucky began to suck at your clit harder. “Oh, fuck.” You moan as you took Steve in your mouth.  

He groaned, watching your lips stretch around him. You massaged his balls, rubbing at the spot just behind. His hips moved more, hitting the back of your throat. You pulled away, just for a breath to say. “Buck, oh shit, fuck me.”

He did. Bucky straighten you on the sofa, bringing ass to the edge and pushing the coffee table back. He lifted your injured over his shoulder, kissing your thigh. As he buried himself deep into your wet desperate cunt, Steve pushed his cock back into your mouth.

“Yes, Doll.” Bucky thrust into you, holding you by the waist. His breath became ragged, watching himself sink into you, watching Steve fuck your mouth.  

Your grip tightened around Steve’s cock as the tension grew in your core, feeling your climax rushing at you. He made a strangled noise. “Ah, Sweetheart, I’m gonna, ah...”  

You swallowed against his cock, working your hand hard and he exploded. You swallowed him down.

“Fuck, baby.” Bucky moaned. His fingers danced over your clit and your back arched as you released Steve. Buck slammed into you hard. You shook. His hips snapped.  

“Come for us, beautiful.” Steve breathed in your ear as he nipped your neck and pulled at your nipple.

“Oh, that’s it.” Bucky moaned. Steve pulled harder and you came apart with a cry. Bucky followed you over the edge. “Yes!”  

The boys watched you calm down, smiling and placing soft kisses across your skin.  

“I’m going to clean up dinner and get ready to head back in the morning.” Bucky gently set your ankle down. “Stevie, why do you get our girl cleaned up and ready for bed.”  

He did just that, carrying you into the bathroom and then getting the shower running.  

“I can stand on one foot just fine.” You smiled up at him. “You don’t have to help me.”

Steve stood under the water with you, a smile on his face. “But I want to.” He lathered up his hands and crouched to washed down your legs. You sighed with delight. He took his time, washing you clean and holding your in between lathering you up and rinsing you.  

He turned off the water and reached for the towel. Steve took as much care drying you. As you sat on the counter and squeezed out your hair in the towel, he stood between your knees. 

The serious look in Steve’s eye, made you stop. “Y/N, I’ve made a decision.”

o o o

The next day you all returned to the compound. Bucky carried you into the infirmary to have your ankle checked. “Just in case, Doll.”  

“You take her away for a couple days and break her.” Banner teased, looking at the x-ray.

“It’s broken?!” Bucky jumped up.

“No.” Bruce laughed. “I’m just teasing. It’s a pretty serious sprain, but no breaks and nothing torn. She just needs to stay off it for a while.”

“See.” You smiled.  

Bruce was just pulling out a pair of crutches when Bucky picked you up. “Let’s go get you comfy then.”

Bucky carried you in to the common room and settled you into your favorite spot, He put a pillow under your foot. “I’m getting an ice pack.”

Wanda paused the movie they were all watching.  Vision and Natasha watched with her. Tony and Clint lounged by the bar.

“Did you have a good time?” She asked.

Tony smirked, “If you were coming back with something out of whack, I would not have guess it would be your foot.”

“What can I say,” You laughed. “I’m clumsy”  

“But gorgeous!” Bucky called from the kitchen.  

“I’ll second that.” Steve said as he came in. Wanda shot Nat a wide-eyed look. He came around and settled into the corner beside you, pulling you closer with an arm around your shoulder. “I went ahead and put your stuff away.”

“Thank you,” You looked up with a smile. He pressed a kiss to your temple. Tony mockingly dropped his jaw and turned mellow-dramatically to Clint, who laughed.

Bucky came in with an ice pack and tucked it around your foot. He lowered himself to the sofa on your other side. “You didn’t bother to put my stuff away, did you, jerk?”

“Nope.” Steve smirked, ignoring the amused audience in the room. “Put your own stuff away, punk.”

You couldn’t help the big smile crossing your face. This had been the best birthday ever.

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[cryoculus]

Lunaris [2/11]

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Chapter Title: Waxing Crescent Pairing: Yokai!Akaashi Keiji/Reader  Word Count: 1,902

***

When you awaken, the sight that greeted you is of a ceiling you've woken up to almost every morning of your life.

"(Name)!" The frantic tone of your grandmother was enough to stun you into alertness, glancing her way as you wondered why she sounded so relieved. 

Her lips were stretched into a kind smile as she hovered over your futon, replacing the damp cloth you didn't even notice was on your forehead with a fresh one. The cool feeling of the fabric was more soothing than it should be, but you couldn't pay the sensation any mind because someone else was in the room with you. 

"How you do," greeted the gravelly voice of Fujimoto, one of the older monks at your family shrine. 

Confused, you hauled yourself by your elbows, wincing at the way your joints threatened to snap off if you weren't careful. Your mouth felt barren of moisture, but it's as if Fujimoto read your mind when he offered you a glass full of water. You hesitantly took it from him, bringing the rim to your lips as you took tiny sips. 

"Fujimoto-san just happened to pass by your school when he saw you being carried into an ambulance," your grandmother explained, the worry on her face enough to invoke guilt over something you didn't even remember. "The medics said that your vitals were normal, but you wouldn't wake up. He insisted to have you taken home, instead because he had...an idea of what came over you."

"What?" you managed weakly, turning to the elder man. "You know what happened to me today?" 

"Yesterday," he corrected. "You've been unconscious for more than twenty-four hours, young lady. Amatsuki-sama kept insisting for you to be brought to the hospital, but we all know your affliction is not a physical one." 

With furrowed brows, you finished the rest of your drink with a satisfied sigh, wiping the edge of your mouth as you asked, "Are you insinuating that I was hexed?" 

Fujimoto chuckled. "I'm not insinuating, I know you were hexed. Your little friend, ah, what's her name? Fukuzawa?"

"Furukawa," you replied. "Furukawa Itsumi."

"Yeah, her. She told me that they saw your warding charm glowing like a LED bulb, or at least that's how that girl described it." The way Fujimoto was speaking with a taunting tone about Itsumi, as if him claiming you got hexed wasn't more outlandish, didn't sit well with you. "Well, that just means you were in close contact with a yokai, young lady."

Your heart stopped at that. "A...yokai?" 

Growing up in one of Tokyo's oldest shrines had its perks. Instead of child-friendly picture books, you grew up reading manuscripts that depicted the legendary creatures that lurked in your shrine's designated territory alongside your grandmother. She would teach you how to string a proper warding charm with the appropriate beads, for each one invoked protection that repelled specific entities. But for some reason, your grandmother gave you a charm with nothing else but a golden bell hanging from the blessed string. You glanced at the bracelet that still sat idly on your wrist. It looked like it always had been—just a harmless little bell on the string and not the glowing orb of light that nearly scorched your skin. 

Your grandmother never really told you what exactly it warded off, but apparently, you'd encountered it yesterday.

"The charms made by the Amatsuki Shrine were specifically made to keep yokai away. If it had been a vengeful ghost or an estranged deity, it wouldn't have reacted so strongly." There was a pause in Fujimoto's words, as he lowered his head in contemplation. But then, his eyes widened with a realization that you couldn't quite follow. He turned to your grandmother, face looking grim.

"Amatsuki-sama," he whispered. "Could it be...?"

You shot your grandmother a curious look, but you knew that she was actively avoiding your gaze. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line, casting Fujimoto a look you weren't familiar with. 

Amatsuki Futaba, your grandmother, was the current elder of the Amatsuki shrine. She was in charge of putting things in order—seeing to the needs of shrine-goers, spearheading offerings to the lunar goddess, Tsukuyomi, and keeping the monks like Fujimoto in check. It was expected of her to uphold the strident focus of a leader, but she never once showed you that side of her directly.

To you, she was Futaba-obasan, who stood as both your mother and father in one. She brought up a troublesome child like you singlehandedly; cooking your meals, letting you learn of life's basic skills, taking great care of you, overall. And instead of appointing the other monks to do it, she was the one who taught you all about the Shinto beliefs that your shrine lived by. 

The love you had for your grandmother was like no other, and you could devote your entire life giving back everything she's done for you, and it still wouldn't be enough.

But why did it seem like she was hiding something from you?

"Fujimoto-san, it's getting very late," she spoke tersely. "I should see you to the gates." 

There was probably a protest resting on the elder man's tongue, but he decided to hold it back, letting slip a defeated sigh instead. He gathered his robes as he got up on the tatami, bowing respectfully towards your grandmother. "Thank you for the hospitality, Amatsuki-sama."

"No, thank  you  for identifying the root of (Name)'s affliction so quickly." Your grandmother smiled kindly, working through worn joints as Fujimoto helped her to her feet. Before sliding the door to your room, she spared you a single glance. "I'll whip you up a nice, hot meal a little later, dear. Rest up and entertain yourself for a bit first." 

You nodded, not having planned on getting out of bed in the first place. As she and Fujimoto exited the room, you couldn't paint a reason for why the monk looked so...rattled at the sight of you. What did he mean by, "Could it be?" anyway? Could what be? 

With a sigh, you removed the damp cloth on your forehead, hanging it by the mouth of the basin your grandmother left by your futon. The loss of the cool feeling made you aware of how hot your body felt. You must've caught a fever.

Resigning yourself to the fact that you couldn't do much while you were sick, you decided to turn on the TV, spending a significant amount of time sifting through the channels for anything that interested you. An old kids cartoon? Nope. A Thai soap opera you've seen a hundred times? Nope. An infomercial channel that promoted five different offers for the same washing machine? Definitely nope. A news report about an upcoming eclipse?

"Astronomers from the Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency or JAXA have predicted the onset of a full lunar eclipse this October," the news anchor informed with a fake flair of interest in her tone. "Details about the eclipse will follow in a few weeks once JAXA sees more into the matter. Now for the weather."

Once the report was over, you glanced at the time displayed at the corner of the screen. Tuesday, 7:39 P.M., it said. You really were out for a whole day. 

The sound of your door sliding back open startled you out of your disbelief. There, your grandmother carried a tray of what smelled like miso soup and a pitcher of water. She flashed you another one of her kind smiles, kneeling next to your futon before pouring you a glass.

"You said it would be a meal," you sulked, pouting. 

"Oh, hush, child. You were unconscious for so long, your stomach won't be able to handle it just yet." 

You chuckled at her words, grabbing the bowl to take a first taste of her recovery miso with a soup spoon. She made it taste less salty than what you're used to, probably out of her baseless concern for your stomach. The beefy aftertaste was a nice touch, though, and at least there were some tofu cubes to chew on. Contrary to your prior protests, you managed to finish the whole thing with not a slice of green onion left loitering in the bowl. 

"See, you'll survive without wolfing down a bowl gyudon right after you've just woken up," she said as you drank glass after glass of water. "I called both your school and your coach and told both that you wouldn't be able to come today and tomorrow, so you don't have to worry about your absences."

"You did that even if the lunar festival's coming up?" You gaped at her. "Oba-san, I told you that you don't have to do everything yourself. You have a dozen monks to do your bidding."

Your grandmother sighed, patting your hair gently before attacking you with a chop to the head. You yelped in surprise, spilling a bit of water on yourself before rubbing the spot where she'd just hit you. 

"Monks are not employees I can just order around," she scolded. "You, of all people, should be familiar with the integrity of their work." 

"I know, but—" 

"Sleep," she said with the same authority you'd use on teammates who were being out of line. "You'll need to regain your strength. You have a competition in a few weeks." 

Your voice died in your throat, any objection you even planned on saying just melting on your tongue. She was right. You hated that she was right. 

Once your grandmother gathered the tableware she'd migrated to your room, she felt for your temperature by placing the back of her hand on your neck. The frown on her face was clue enough of your condition. 

"You went through all of our Ibuprofen the last time you got sick, and I haven't had time to go to the drugstore, since," she sighed, getting up to go outside. "I'll have someone buy it for you tomorrow, if it makes you feel any better about me 'doing everything myself'." 

The grin that teased the corners of your mouth didn't go unnoticed by her. Your grandmother rolled her eyes, killing the lights in your room before you could even put out an off-handed remark. When you no longer heard the sound of her footsteps resounding from the hall, you turned your gaze to the open window outside, the only source of illumination.

Your house was perched on top of a tall hill that overlooked the rest of the bustling city down below. It was quieter here, and the sky was somewhat free of light pollution. A blanket of stars hovered overhead, each one seemingly winking at you from where you sat. The moon was barely a shy crescent tucked away in the darker corners of the sky—you nearly missed it. 

"Sorry, Tsukuyomi-sama," you mumbled, chuckling to yourself for apologizing to a goddess. "Didn't see you there." 

When you rolled over to your side, you fell asleep in minutes.

*** 

"You are a false prophet." 

I'm not... Believe in me, please.

"How dare you claim to be of the lunar goddess' progeny when you look like that!"

No... Don't—don't kill me. I mean no harm.

"Here and now, I vanquish thee!"

It hurts! It hurts! Please, stop! Please. Please...

"Without a heart, you have no power. Begone, demon, and never return."

[deceiver-a-day]

Deceiver-A-Day List of Deceivers (as of Nov. 5, 2019)

* Pseudo-Estate name only

! Art

(Behind a cut because it’s long)

Rorich Bizka: “Those Who Reach for Rorich Bizka’s Hand” *

Hosius Aprusa: “Trying to Forgive Hosius Aprusa for His Crimes”

Rixa Sraiptine: “Mysteries Solved by Rixa Sraiptine” *

Abdallo Benessovy: “The Fireflies in Abdallo Benessovy’s Jar“ *

Tetrada Salian: “The Lost Cat of Tetrada Salian”

Heriward Epsom: “The View From Heriward Epsom’s Mountain” *

Sheshan Ambry: “Sheshan Ambry’s Shortcut” *

Vuldetrada Pauillac: “The Wilted Houseplants of Vuldetrada Pauillac”

Laodice Mataplana: “Laodice Mataplana’s Pizza Order” *

Pellehen Nevers: “The Negligence of Pellehen Nevers” *

Mahaut Angevin: “The Nocturnal Activities of Mahaut Angevin”

Milouziana Garlot: “Milouziana Garlot’s Pageant Sash” *

Ermenaud Lothary: “Roads Named After Ermenaud Lothary”

Gospatrick Mailmuir: “The Deep, Narrative Voice of Gospatrick Mailmuir” *

Taio Chándax: “The Egg-Laying Hens of Taio Chándax”

Terpander Saian: “Opinions About Terpander Saian”

Budoc Dimine: “Game Night at Budoc Dimine’s House” *

Eilika Tollensian: “Those Who Call Eilika Tollensian a Good Dog” !

Nicandra Saránt: “New Species Discovered by Nicandra Saránt“ *

Creirvy Obotrite: “The Voices on Creirvy Obotrite’s Radio” *

Philtis Orab: “The Photos Philtis Orab Never Deletes From Her Smartphone”

Frimutel Grannus: “Taxes Owed by Frimutel Grannus”

Nebe Arbem: “Those Tapped for Nebe Arbem’s Secret Council”

Blithilde Teck: “The Finesse of Blithilde Teck”

Rivallon Tarbat: “Flying Object Rivallon Tarbat Has Yet to Identify”

Helaine Nivernais: “The Fairy Ring of Helaine Nivernais” *

Bethoc Atholl: “Those Who Live Next Door to Bethoc Atholl”

Naime Cubetta: “Venues That Host Naime Cubetta’s Concert”

Narduin Quiansia: “The Microchip Under Narduin Quiansia’s Skin” *

Wichburg Baloch: “The Spider That Fightened Wichburg Baloch”

Elergia Koptos: “Clones of Elergia Koptos”

Jesca Widonen: “Things Jesca Widonen Can Make With a Lime and a Coconut”

Valamir Tintignac: “The Centipedes in Valamir Tintignac’s Sleeves”

Xystus Thélèmite: “The Glitter Sparkling in Xystus Thélèmite’s Wake”

Bertrant Ilerda: “The Dreadful Necktie of Bertrant Ilerda”

Oskitel Anfa: “The Angry Mob Outside Oskitel Anfa’s Door”

Mitrena Liberec: “The Cherry on Mitrena Liberec’s Ice Cream Sundae”

Nicorontes Rhône: “Nicorontes Rhône’s Road Rage”

Verena Boldon: “Snowflakes That Melt on Verena Boldon’s Tongue”

Brioc Erebuni: “The Malfunctioning Treadmill of Brioc Erebuni”

Damya Croton: “Ideas Involving Damya Croton”

Alstan Hazdor: “The Reflection of Alstan Hazdor in Your Eyes”

Hersende Quillebœuf: “Snowmen Built by Hersende Quillebœuf”

Sissinio Ivrean: “The Hidden Guilt of Sissinio Ivrean”

Herilde Boston: “The Scattered Sheep of Herilde Boston”

Tatwine Greco: “The Dark Alleys Where Tatwine Greco Lurks”

Muderic Baltheim: “The White Roses Painted Red by Muderic Baltheim”

Ermengilde Siling: “The Shattered Vase of Ermengilde Siling”

Azalea Envermeu: “Mimicking Azalea Envermeu”

Dragobodo Sequanian: “Dragobodo Sequanian’s Hangover Cure”

Mandisma Feyzin: “The Roots That Grow Through Mandisma Feyzin’s Dead Bones”

Statira Pantheon: “Those Who Say ‘Polo!’ When Statira Pantheon Says ‘Marco!’“

Marcoat Oenipons: “Counting to Ten With Marcoat Oenipons”

Dorabella Nidrosian: “Those Who Look Into a Mirror in a Darkened Room and Call Dorabella Nidrosian’s Name Three Times”

Sherimon Gyrwas: “The Damp Dwelling of Sherimon Gyrwas”

Argotta Niniane: “The Pain in Argotta Niniane’s Shoulder”

Saxford Lychnidos: “The Light Radiating From Saxford Lychnidos”

Erchamilde Parnassus: “Clouds That Resemble Erchamilde Parnassus”

Framengilde Thespis: “Weddings Planned by Framengilde Thespis”

Anaweten Sosol: “The Pebble in Anaweten Sosol’s Shoe”

Taxilas Kiovian: “The Iceberg Taxilas Kiovian is Trapped On”

Zokhrouf Huesca: “Motherly Hugs From Zokhrouf Huesca”

Hamilcar Grimaud: “Hamilcar Grimaud’s Bucket List”

Anund Mosella: “Those Who Wear Friendship Bracelets Made by Anund Mosella”

Farnace Platanus: “The Somersaults of Farnace Platanus”

Tryphosa Kremmen: “Those Who Have Drowned in the Waters of Tryphosa Kremmen”

Célèrine Mälaren: “The Magnanimity of Célèrine Mälaren”

Viola Sémillon: “Things Viola Sémillon’s Parrot Says”

Valash Arsida: “Valash Arsida’s Getaway Car”

Bethulia Rosacena: “Casting a Hex on Bethulia Rosacena”

Floribert Jutriboc: “Debates Moderated by Floribert Jutriboc”

Safiye Malaita: “The Star Safiye Malaita Wished Upon” !

Vortigern Cedd: “The Ice Cubes in Vortigern Cedd’s Drink”

Marcswith Sérézin: “Stripping Marcswith Sérézin of All Her Ranks and Titles”

Ermengon Torreya: “Those Waiting in the Checkout Lane of Ermengon Torreya”

Helie Scaldis: “The Statue Towering Over the Village of Helie Scaldis”

Mauro Chaponnay: “The Carnation in Mauro Chaponnay’s Lapel”

Sarolt Klysion: “The Echoing Sobs of Sarolt Klysion”

Utel Pamlico: “The Sign Taped to Utel Pamlic’s Back”

Royse Pistoia: “Skipping Royse Pistoia’s Lectures”

Tagliaferro Cork: “Those Who Skip School to Smoke With Tagliaferro Cork”

Menwreda Gath: “Ducks That Follow Menwreda Gath”

Alverard Napata: “The Zombies on Alverard Napata’s Favorite Television Show”

Kösem Aibonitone: “That One Song Kösem Aibonitone Always Listens to, Over and Over”

Arbace Sudetica: “Those Who Volunteer for Arbace Sudetica’s Fire Department”

Alleaume Napoli: “The Many Pieces of Alleaume Napoli”

Gyrid Tangonis: “The 3-D Glasses of Gyrid Tangonis”

Jonilde Melburnian: “Jonilde Melburnian’s Lazy Turtle"

Salocon Ugandy: “The Fruit Ripening on Salocon Ugandy’s Tree”

Feolaga Eperiessine: “Those Who Take Medicine Given by Feolage Eperiessine”

Carshena Damask: “Those Carshena Damask Can Contact on His CB Radio”

Mabilia Hanaph: “The Mist From Which Mabilia Hanaph Emerges” !

Cotys Embothrium: “The Many Wigs of Cotys Embothrium”

Saliha Pinet: “Condolences for Saliha Pinet’s Loss”

Osmer Beç: “The Insomnia of Osmer Beç”

Herzenleid Akampsis: “Those Who Grow Impatient With Herzenleid Akampsis”

Wandrille Thourion: “The Stagecoach Driven by Wandrille Thourion”

Sprota Ramsey: “Blood Shed by Sprota Ramsey”

Premysl Champlain: “Premysl Champlain’s Lab Partner”

Madalhilde Beersheban: “The Twilit Tower of Madalhilde Beersheban”

Actard Rennes: “Things Too Heavy For Actard Rennes to Lift”

Protasia Nightshade: “The Moonlight Illuminating Protasia Nightshade”

Gaius Goldenrod: “The Burning Theater of Gaius Goldenrod”

Aulazia Barion: “Aulazia Barion’s Ghostwriter”

Ithamar Perico: “The Spicy Chicken Wings ihamar Perico Ate Last Night”

Rikkisa Allebrogic: “Looking Back and Seeing Rikkisa Allebrogic Standing There” !

Chromatius Dirge: “The Wicked Windmill of Chromatius Dirge”

Fleurie Kanesh: “Public Readings of Fleurie Kanesh’s Poetry”

Fanurie Sepphoris: “Patting Fanurie Sepphoris on the Back and Telling Him He Did Well” !

Oreguen Orcadie: “Oreguen Orcadie’s Hopes for a Better Tomorrow” !

Hipponax Dropice: “Those Who Romance Hipponax Dropice”

Doctramna Nedao: “The Candles on Doctramna Nedao’s Birthday Cake”

Cuthwulf Odessa: “The Buried Treasure of Cuthwulf Odessa” !

Austrigusa Monthelie: “The Haunting Gaze of Austrigusa Monthelie” !

Eudes Dolency: “The Cowardice of Eudes Dolency”

Wivina Nicives: “‘Beware of Wivina Nicives’ Signs”

Nominoe Carolsruha: “The Falsified Documents of Nominoe Carolsruha” !

Halime Richterian: “The Time When Halime Richterian Gets Off Work” !

Alvas Teschen: “Alvas Teschen’s Transient Lifestyle”

Barbarina Gotho: “The Light in Barbarina Gotho’s Window”

Mauger Meyzieu: “The Megaphone of Mauger Meyzieu”

Odilia Burgundar: “Odilia Burgundar’s Terrible Fangs”

Ocran Tekoa: “News Media That Mention Ocran Tekoa’s Crime”

Dalphon Kemuel: “Dalphon Kemuel’s Halloween Candy Haul” !

Jerioth Idumaean: “Taking Refuge in the Branches of Jerioth Idumaean” !

Súphis Tirlemont: “Súphis Tirlemont’s Favorite Sitting Rock”

Fressenda Koine: “The Sounds Fressenda Koine Heard From the Other Room on That Fateful Day”

Wandrigisel Nola: “Wandrigisel Nola’s Glass Eye” !

Alde Vestine: “The Magical Mojo of Alde Vestine”

[vadaschiquita]

Chiquita | Ch. 1

He spotted her from the VIP balcony section of the club.  Nevada always had a keen eye for the beautiful women that came and frequented one of his many clubs.  Currently, there were lips on his neck and a hand annoyingly playing with the hairs at the back of his neck.  What was her name again?  Cynthia?  Camila?  Crystal?  Who knew, the point was, he didn't want her company anymore.  Not when this new Chiquita was at the club.  He wouldn't let whomever it was using his lap for a seat go just yet, no, what good would that do?  He would wait; probably send one of his men to ask her up, and maybe put to good use the golden haired lady clinging to the Chiquita's arm.  They looked mature, but still young enough to enjoy a night out at the club.  And, not just any club, this particular club, but he wouldn't complain, he thanked the Lord Almighty for blessing him with the beautiful sight that was this Chiquita.

"Mari, let's go grab a drink," the golden haired beauty spoke loudly against her ear.

Mariana smiled and bit her plump lip, nodding in acceptance as she let herself be guided by her friend towards the bar.  It was her birthday, her thirtieth birthday.  The dawn of a new era and a reminder that it was great to be alive, that she had survived another day free of her ex-boyfriend's grasp and far away from his fists and sharp-tongue.  Jess drummed her fingers against the surface of the bar, attempting to draw attention to the both of you.  But, that was never hard; with Jess' golden locks, pointy nose, and rosy lips and Mariana's caramel skin, doe eyes, and full plump lips it was almost impossible for they layman to over look you.

The bartender approached, "Ladies, what can I get for you?"

"It's her birthday!" Jess shrieked, shooting a glance over her shoulder to Mariana.

"Oh," the bartender leaned on his back and rubbed his chest, "then in that case, it's club policy for the birthday girl to have a body shot of tequila."

Jess squealed and Mariana opened her eyes, smirking, "Is that so?" she questioned, seeing as the bartender nodded.  Mariana shrugged and approached Jess, "You're ok with it?"

"Only if I get to do one off of you," Jess responded, shimmying her shoulders.

Mariana playfully rolled her eyes and smiled, acquiescing to Jess' request.  The bartender wasted no time in serving the two shots with the accompanied lime wedges and the saltshaker for taste.  Jess went first, lapping at Mariana's exposed shoulder and dropping salt upon her skin.  She smiled at Mariana, a last confirmation before proceeding to lick the salt off of the shoulder, knocking back the harsh liquid, and squeezing the lemon at the top of her shoulder.  Jess waited for the juice to reach the collarbone of the other woman before licking it off.  Mariana giggled giddily, craning her neck to the opposite side before Jess placed her lips to the hollow of the other woman's neck.

She loved that girl!  The one soul that had broken her walls down since her arrival at the city three years ago, and aside from her therapist, she was the only one that knew Mariana's story; Mariana's whole story.  It was Mariana's turn to take her body shot and just like Jess, she did it off of her shoulder, "How much do I owe you?" Jess asked the bartender as he stopped in front of them.

"Oh," he replied, his brows knitted in confusion, "the boss said to put every drink you consume on his tab."

Jess looked back at Mariana, "Excuse me, who?" Mariana barked, fanning her manicured fingers atop the bar.

"Yea," he responded, raising his brow and pointing at the balcony where Nevada and several other men were with some skirts.

Mariana and Jess both turned to look at where the bartender was pointing at and Mariana bit her lip, smiling, and turning towards the bartender, "In that case, let me have two kamikazes and two shots of bourbon."

The bartender tapped his hand in acknowledgement and went to work at the drinks.  Mariana turned to lean against the bar and Jess scooted close to her hip, "The boss, are you serious?  And, of course he has the audacity to have a slut on his lap," she scoffed in disgust.

"Yea, well let's see how much of a boss he really is," she finished, glancing up quickly at the veranda before turning to grab at her drinks.

Nevada smirked as he watched the Chiquita turn to grab at her cocktail and her shot of brown liquid, "They're not shy, Pucho," he mused to his right-hand man.

Pucho chuckled, placing his hand atop the thigh of the skirt on his lap, urging her to dismount and move.  He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, "I have a feeling they're not going to be like these ones up here," he said, motioning with his hands.

Nevada chuckled, "Maybe that's a good thing," he continued, pushing whatever her name was off of his lap, "These girls," he said, "they just want the quick fix, comfort, and protection.  Those two, especially the one in yellow," he continued, looking over the veranda to try and find the Chiquita and her friend, "those two intrigue me."

Pucho chuckled and leaned back on the couch, sprawling his long limbs open and taking a careful sip out of his glass, "What are you thinking of doing, Nevada?"

Nevada smirked devilishly, glancing over his shoulder to the only man he trusted the most, "You know what I want to do."

Pucho gave a wry smile and nodded slowly.

The tune in club changed quickly and Nevada knew that now was the time to see all the pretty ladies that were here tonight to dance and push his product.  After all, they were all somewhere in the Heights, at his club.  The tune rapped melodiously against his chest and he mouthed some of the words whilst bobbing his head.  He kept a careful eye to the men and women he had working for him on the dance floor, flirt with the dancers and sell his product effortlessly.  But, he saw the Chiquita he had been searching for since she managed to slip away after taking her drinks from the bar.  She was grinding on some stupid boy who didn't even know a thing about how to handle a woman of that stature.  His hands were everywhere and she fought him for his hands.  He knew this song.  He had danced it many a time with some broad looking to have her way with the drug lord and maybe, possibly be a thing of more than one night.  He had fucked to this song, because, who doesn't when the dancing this song required felt and looked already like fucking.

He knew when the bass dropped and he knew what she was going to do as soon as it did, too.  And, like a clairvoyant of some sorts, the bass dropped and the Chiquita in the yellow dress arched her back, pushing her ass into the boy that she was dancing with.  Nevada squinted and growled lowly, stewing in his own anger, in his jealously because he couldn't have her... yet. 

He stood in haste, "What the hell are you doing?" Pucho asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

Pucho chuckled and shook his head, hanging it briefly on his shoulders, "She's not from around here, Nevada.  Give her time, it's too soon."

Nevada looked over he veranda to see that she had detached herself from the boy and was crossing the dance floor, fanning at her face with her hands as she leaned against the bar top.  She ordered something and a glass of water, good girl.  She sipped her water carefully and dug her hand inside the glass to grab at an ice cube to run it underneath her jet-black shoulder-length hair.  Nevada could've sworn that his heart had skipped a beat and now, he was left the thought of what the taste of her skin would be underneath that ice cube.  Unwillingly, he sat next to Pucho, huffing as he watched the Chiquita shimmy her way to the crowd once more.

"Mari," she heard the indistinct squeal Jess produced when calling her name and she rolled her eyes, smiling, "I found someone for you to dance with," she insinuated as she spoke closely to Mariana's face.

"Yea," Mariana replied, "Don't tell me it's another white guy, Jess."

Jess rolled her eyes and deflated momentarily, "No, his name is Carlos.  I think he's your type."

Mariana tensed at the mention of a 'type'.  Her friends back home had told her that her 'type' might break her heart one day and they'd been right, but those days were long gone and now she had grown, matured, and she knew better, "Come on," Jess ushered, grabbing at her elbow and directing her to where she stood.

As Jess hauled Mariana across the club, she chanced a glance up to the veranda where she knew the man who had purchased her drinks tonight was.  She smiled impishly as she raised her glass and saw him give her a nod.  She turned her face to focus on Jess, "Jess, I think we should go up to the VIP and thank whomever it is that is paying for our drinks."

Jess stopped in her tracks, turning forcefully towards Mariana, "Are you kidding me?" she asked rhetorically, "He chose to do that while having all types of bitches on his lap.  If he thinks that we're going up there, he might as well sit there all night long.”

Mariana shook her head and smiled, "You're something else, you do know that?" 

Jess shrugged coquettishly and smiled, "It's why you love me.  Now, come on, Carlos is really hot and he really wants to dance with you.”

Nevada watched as the blonde beauty dragged his Chiquita away.  Wait, his Chiquita?

Minutes later, he saw Carlos, one of his pushers, dancing away with the beauty in the yellow dress.  She moved effortlessly and he knew then, she had to be Latina, "Miguel," he called out.  Once he felt the presence of one of his men over his shoulder he spoke, "Grab inventory and profit from Carlos and send his ass home.  We'll pick him up tomorrow for a conversation."

What was going on with him, though?  He was never like this.  By now, he would've had her on his lap, whispering incredulous filth into her ear, and wanting to leave to go and bed her.  She had him stuck.  Nevada Ramirez was stuck, "I'm done waiting," he mumbled.

Pucho scoffed and stood, "Do what you want," he responded.

Nevada signaled for his little sister and whispered instructions to her ear.  Smiling she shook her head, "Always wanting what you can't have, huh Vada?"

"Calla, and go do what I've asked," he responded, leaning back with his whisky.

Mariana liked the way he danced.  He moved her carefully and he knew how to keep up and how to respect her boundaries.  Yes, she might've been in a short skirt, but that did not award anybody to touch her salaciously if not wanted.  As she spun she noticed this younger looking girl with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face and she wondered if she had anything to do with her dance partner, "I think you girlfriend is upset," she shouted near his ear.

Carlos furrowed his brow, "Girlfriend?  What are you talking about?"

Mariana paused her movements and looked over her shoulder, seeing through her peripheral Carlos move to look where her eyes were trained, "Can I help you?"

The girl nodded and uncrossed her arms, tapping at the screen of her phone quickly.  She brought the device to her ear, "My brother, up at the VIP, would love to know your name."

Mariana smirked and looked at the veranda, watching how the stranger slowly leaned forward to rest his elbow on his knee as his left thumb ran over his lip, "Tell your brother," she begun, staring at the stranger, "that he looks to be a grown ass man and if he really wants to know my man, he can come and ask me his self."

Nevada scoffed and smiled, "She's got a fast mouth, that one.  All right," he said, clearing his throat, "does she know I'm paying her drinks tonight?"

The young girl repeated the question for Mariana and she turned fully and placed her hands on her hips, almost challenging him and that's when Nevada noticed the reflection of her gold nameplate chain, bingo!  "Ask him if he wants a round of applause with that?  It's my birthday," she continued with a smile, "I see it was a gift," she finished, cocking her hip.

Nevada laughed and averted his eyes, "Fiery," he replied through the receiver, "Nina, she has a nameplate, call her by her name." 

Nina looked at Mariana's chest and the look didn't go unnoticed.  Mariana immediately spoke, moving her hand quickly to cover her name, "Clever, but if you really want to know my name, I dare you to leave you nest."

She turned quickly to grab at Carlos' hand when they were approached by two gigantic men, "Carlitos," one of them spoke, "you're done for the night.  El jefe wants to see you tomorrow."

Mariana scoffed and turned once more, catching the smug smirk the handsome stranger sported, "Unbelievable," she mumbled under her breath, stomping towards the bar where she was lucky enough to have found an empty seat.

Mariana continued ordering drinks and chancing glances up at the veranda.  She must've gotten through him somehow, women using his lap as a seat had ceased and when one of them tried, he would just glare at them until they'd disperse.  Who was he?  Who did he knew?  What type of power did he carry around here when he would kick patrons out for apparently not having his way.  If all he wanted to know was her name, then why not make the trip down from his safe place?  She turned on her barstool and placed her cocktail glass atop the smooth surface, thumbing the stem of the glass when the bartender approached, "Another one?"

She looked up and smiled, "No, actually, can I have some water?"

He smiled sweetly and nodded.  Maybe he knows who they are?  Once he returned, he retired the empty cocktail glass and before he could leave, she spoke, "Hey, question."

"Yea," he replied, leaning against the bar.

"Who is he?" she asked, lifting her water and pointing at it.

The bartender smiled and shook his head, "You're not from around here, are you?"

Mariana giggled, "That obvious, huh?"

He nodded and sighed, "He's the boss.  He runs the Heights and employs many of us.  Say what you may about him, but the guy helps his people.”

"Does he always do this?"

"When he wants you, but you and your friend are the first ones I've seen that had not gone up once they notice who he is," he finished, smiling.

"Does he have a name?"

"He does, but I suggest that you don't find out if you don't already know, bonita," the bartender finished, tapping at the surface and leaving.

Mariana was suddenly startled by hands around her waist and as she turned she noticed it was Jess.  She smiled and shook her head, "Ready to go?"

Jess nodded against Mariana's back and turned, noticing a handsome man behind her.  Mariana looked at Jess' eyes, attempting to figure if she had been drugged or if she wasn't in her complete senses when Jess smiled, "I'm fine, I promise."

Once outside, the night air hit her face, the alcohol that swam through her veins making her sway.  She was thankful for Jess and heard her explain who the handsome man she planned on bedding tonight was. She trusted Jess' instincts and when she didn't, she would intervene, but tonight was about having fun and letting lose.  They climbed into a taxi and she saw as Jess waved and shout her love out the window for her.

"Leaving by yourself?" Mariana snapped her head in the direction of the voice and was surprised to the handsome stranger lurking in the shadows.

She raised a brow and crossed her arms, moving her eyes slightly over the man's sexy ensemble.  She stared at his face, with the neatly trimmed facial hair, smoldering green eyes, and long fingers that danced around the rim of his glass.  She noticed the heavily tinted SUV parked at the curb with the same few men that had escorted Carlos out earlier in the night and she narrowed her stare at him.

Nevada smiled boyishly and pursed his lips, "Nevada," he finally said.

"Mariana," she replied, watching as Nevada nodded and turned.

[aureumjeon]

Pitter-Patter (M) || KNJ

♡ Domestic!Au ♡ Husband!Namjoon x Reader ♡ !! WARNING !! Mention of miscarriage, depression, Fluff, Angst, Light smut. ♡ Words: 5.1K

a/n: *Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, nurse, midwife or anything. This was based on my own knowledge (I gave birth twice.) and of course, Google. I literally cried while writing the miscarriage scene. I have no intention of offending women who went through a mc. For those who experienced it recently or 10, 20, or even 30 years ago, I am so sorry for your loss. I will hold a special spot in my heart for you and your child. I am a mere stranger to you but I want you to know that there's a rainbow always after the rain.  🌈

“You’re not going to go through this alone,  I’m with you all the way.”

You were huddled up in thick blankets on the living room couch watching Marvel's Thor: Ragnarok with your loving husband, Namjoon. Too immersed in the comedic yet action-packed plot, you did not feel your husband's hand slither its way down to the apex of your thigh. "Babe..." You whined, wiggling your thigh, trying to shake off his venturing hand. "I'm trying to watch here." You said, completely unamused. He chuckled and retorted "But we've watched this movie THREE times now." With a heavy emphasis on the three. Giggles were the only thing you replied, waving your hands in his face trying to dismiss his logical argument. He snickered at your response and rested his head on your lap, looking up at you and admiring the view. He genuinely felt happy that he gets to spend his entire life with you, for better or for worst. There was only one thing he thought was missing. "Y/N..." He hummed your name sweetly, his voice low and smooth, and it felt like feathers titillating your eardrums. "Yes, love?" You hummed back while brushing your fingers through his silver tinted hair, eyes still focused on the television.  "Maybe..." He paused. Namjoon nervously swallowed a lump in his throat and carried on with what he was saying, “I think we could try again, Y/N. It's been 8 months." Your husband firmly stated, washing off any trace of hesitancy.

It took you a while to process what he was suggesting when it did sink in, the playfulness of your voice dissipated. Your face stone hard and a frown was embossed on your lips. With eyes cold as ice, you stared him down like he murdered someone. You stood up abruptly, causing his head to hit the seat cushion. "Ouch." He hissed. "Good thing its soft and we weren't lying on the floor." going over the back of his head with his fingers. You marched straight up to your shared bedroom and shut the door as loudly as you could. SLAM!

"Aish.." Namjoon sighed, pulling himself up and trailed over to where you headed. "Y/N." He knocked on the wood door twice but to no avail. "Love." He called you again, this time by your term of endearment for each other. You know you can't resist when he calls you that. The way the word escapes his lips, like a hot knife gliding through cold butter. Yes, it’s that smooth. When Namjoon heard the sound of the lock clicking, he slowly held the doorknob and nudged it open. “Y/N...” He whispered, inching closer to the side of the bed where you were seated. “Are you okay?” he inquired, rubbing circles on your back trying to soothe you. “I’m sorry...” you apologized, feeling guilty at your sudden outburst. It wasn’t his fault, and he definitely did not deserve that. You clasped his hand, lightly tugging at it, encouraging him to sit down beside you. He precisely did what you asked, wrapping his arms around you. You felt the warm, comforting heat radiate from his body.

“It’s not your fault, love...” He replied, voice gentle and soft. “Sorry for being insensitive.” He settled his hand on your face, thumb caressing the apple of your cheek. “Sorry if it seemed like I was rushing you.” Namjoon leaned closer to you and placed a kiss chaste kiss on your forehead. [Past] Rewind to the day you found out that you were carrying a little angel in your womb. "Love!" You shouted from the bathroom, your voice was quivering from excitement. Namjoon thought there was something wrong or that you were in trouble, he barged right through the door and exclaimed "Y/N! What's wrong?!” Tears were welling up in your eyes. You held up the at home pregnancy test kit in your hand, two solid red lines showed. After years and years of trying to conceive, the exhausting days filled with mapping out your ovulation period, ingesting an unhealthy amount of supplement that promised to enhance your fertility, and going back and forth with your not-so-affordable OB-GYNE finally paid off. "We're pregnant?" Your thunderstruck of a husband gleefully asked. "We're pregnant!" You jumped into his arms, feeling his familiar embrace. "We're... We're pregnant." He sighed in positive disbelief, tightening his hold on you. "I can't believe it!" He whimpered as his face dived deeper in the crook of your neck, "Finally." You softly hummed. The excitement of knowing that you will become a mother tickled you inside, setting off tiny, little butterflies. The following day you went to the clinic to professionally confirm that you were indeed pregnant. Your doctor delightfully congratulated both of you and enlightened you with everything you needed to know for the next 9-10 months. You took note of everything she advised, from 'what to eat and what not to eat' to 'sleeping facing the left was suggested, because it provided better blood circulation for the child." (A/n: Fun fact, this is true. My doctor advised me to sleep on the left side with both of my pregnancies. ) You were ecstatic, you undeniably were.

The moment you and your husband walked out of the building, your mind was focused on one thing, one thing alone. You looked at Namjoon with sparkly eyes and chimed "Baby clothes, bottles, binkies, shoes, bouncer, toys---" You were interrupted by your dimpled husband "Calm down, love. Isn't too early to buy those?" He chuckled, to which you replied with a pout. "And we don't know our baby's gender yet." His argument was convincing, but your stubbornness was stronger. You crossed your arms in a child-like manner, again pouting your lips into a c-shape while you stomp your feet. Indeed, like a 5-year old who was not allowed to use her tablet because screen time was over. "Come on, Y/N..." Namjoon stated, his hand was on your shoulders, trying to overpower you rebellious stance. "No." You huffed, cheeks puffed out. "Yah. You know you're absolutely gonna be the death of me, Y/N." He worded jokingly, raising his hands up in defeat "Fine." Your eyes grew 10 times wider at his surrender. "We can get a few things--," You yelled in excitement, cutting him off. "On one condition..." He continued, your grin turned upside down. "We will only get essential things." You face was like a clock, changing its direction every second. "Deal!" You joyfully replied, hooking arms with him. - "Look at this, love!" You exclaimed at amazement, pointing at the compact stroller that magically folds into a cube no more than 20 inches in height and width. Namjoon coiled his arm around your waist and kissed the top of your head. You reached the clothing section for 3 months and below. With wandering eyes, you gazed at all the lovely clothes stacked against one another, row after row, and aisle after aisle. They were just as adorable as you expected them to be. Varying from the palest shade of pink to the deepest shade of blue. Onesies, jumpers, sweaters, hats with fluffy cat ears on top, you name it. "Only what's necessary." Namjoon prompted you with a smile on his face, seeing you happy made him happy. "Yes, sir!" You replied. Your husband does have a point; it really was too early for this. You were just excited at the whole ordeal, and you were thankful that your husband was very kind, loving and understanding enough to let you do what you want. "These!" You plucked the 6-set whites onesies from the display hook. "And these, too!" A cute 3-piece pyjama set littered with doodles of cats, dogs and rabbits accordingly. You tossed them in the basket that was held by your husband. He walked behind you, following every twist and turn you took. Humming a song as he observed you with love-struck eyes. You, the love of his life, is now bearing his child. A family, he thought to himself, together the three of you will become a family. After getting what you needed, you hurriedly hauled your husband to the counter to pay for everything you bought. You got to the car and sat in the passenger seat, holding the bag of baby stuff. "You happy?" Namjoon smiled, his free hand resting on your thigh. "Very!" You lovingly replied, clutching on the bag. The first three months were hell, the doctor told you that this period is where your body will start to feel the surge of hormones. Some women feel nothing at all, while others experience nausea, vomiting, fatigue, cravings, smell sensitivity, and many, many more unpleasant thing. Unfortunately, you represent the latter.

You wouldn't survive it if it wasn't for you very supportive husband. He'd remind you when it was time to take your prenatal pills, cook you a full balanced meal, sing you lullabies when you had trouble sleeping, massage your back, legs and feet whenever you feel them ache, and run to the 24-hour convenience store when you want to eat weird combination of food like chocolate covered sausage. He was heaven sent, you looked at him with luminous eyes while he cradled your growing bump in his arms, kissing it more than a hundred times. What have you done in your past life to deserve a man like him? He was an amazing husband, and he will be an amazing father too. "We got a monthly check up tomorrow right?" You asked your husband at you scanned your phone's calendar. "Yes..." He hummed as he placed another kiss on your tummy. "I'm excited to see how much our little one has grown." You smiled. Namjoon crawled beside you, spooning you in. "Sleep, love. It's harmful to stay up late." He stated. You closed your eyes and felt your body drift into dreamland. Tomorrow comes, you were seated at the waiting area with your husband, waiting for your names to be called. "Mr. and Mrs. Kim?" The nurse at the reception desk stated, she smiled and added: "Mrs. Park is ready to see you now." You bowed and entered the room, greeting the familiar face of the doctor you've been seeing for almost 3 years. "How are you feeling, darling?" Your sweet doctor inquired as she gestured for your maternity booklet. "Have you eaten well and are you getting enough sleep?" You nod, while she scanned your previous record. "By the look of it, you're 16 weeks in today, congratulations again." She grinned from ear to ear. Happy to see that the Kims, one of her favorite couple has come a long way. She rose from her seat and guided you over to her examination table, helping you lie down. "Let's see how much the baby has grown." She clapped, reaching for her handy dandy tape measure and measured your bump. "Good, good. This is an appropriate size for a 16th week gestational age." You smiled and looked over your to your right, you husband giving you the thumbs up. "Next, we'll count the baby's heartbeat." She opened the drawer next to the examination table and pulled her Doppler foetal monitor. She uncapped the tube of Aquasonic 100 Ultrasound gel and spread it on the tip of the gadget. You jolt at the sudden coldness you felt. "Okay, stay still mommy. Let's find your angel's heartbeat.

Your doctor furrowed her brows after 6 minutes of searching for your little one's thumping heart. "That's odd." She obscurely said. The look of worry both flooded you and Namjoon's faces. "Is something wrong, Mrs. Park?" Your husband, who was presently standing to your right, impatiently asked while clasping your hand. "I'm having a hard time locating it." She answered, "It is possible your baby's in a very snug position, that might be the reason why my Doppler can get a hold of his/her heartbeat." You exhaled a profound sigh of relief, looking at each other with weary eyes. "It's going to be alright, love," Namjoon assured you, kissing your knuckles. "I'll ask my assistant to prepare the ultrasound room for us. We require a more powerful machine so we will use big Al, that's what we call him here." She smiled. "Please wait a moment Mr. and Mrs. Kim." She then left the room. "Everything's gonna be alright, I promise." Your husband assured you once more, as he felt your hands tremble in fear. "I hope so..." You sighed. You were finally in the ultrasound room, Big Al stood before you. "Okay. This will do the job." Mrs. Park affirmed, "Please." She gestured to the examination table, this time it was a bigger one. "With this, we will be able to locate it 10 times faster." You breathe in and out to release the tension in your body. The sonographer gave Mrs. Park the go signal, she slid the now mightier machine on your stomach again for a solid 3 minutes. You crossed your fingers and hoped for the best, anticipating only positive things. You train of thought was then cut short by the sonographer. "Mrs. Park, for a while." The young lady called to the elder woman. You and Namjoon's eyes were stuck on the both of them. She then muttered something into her ear, causing her happy demeanor to melt into a gloomy one. She cleared her throat and stood firm and professional. "Mrs. Kim." Her voice was laced with sadness, and you felt your own heart rate shoot up a hundred times. "I'm sorry." She outstretched her hand to hold yours, squeezing it tightly. Your mind went dull. "What?" You asked, utterly terrified at what she was about to say next. "The baby doesn’t have a heartbeat." You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces inside your chest, piercing you lungs making you unable to breathe properly. "What?!" Your husband yelled furiously, Mrs. Park was trying to calm him down. It felt like a gun was aimed at your head, and reality pulled the trigger. Big, heavy tears instantaneously fell from your eyes without a warning. You felt the ground swallow you whole. Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? WHY?!

You suddenly burst into a desperate cry. You hopped off the table and fell to the ground with a loud thud; Namjoon rushed over and held you in his arms. The pain from the fall was no way near the pain you felt at the moment. Hearing the news with your own two ears felt like a death sentence. "Why?!" You screamed at the top of your lungs. "W-w-?!" sobbing endlessly. Words were not enough to express all the emotions stirring up inside you. If felt painful; it felt horrible; it felt terrifying; it felt excruciatingly unbearable; it felt like you no longer had a reason to live; it felt like all the sense in your mind, and your body was stripped off with just one sentence. "Why?! I did everything right!" You bawled, using your husband as a punching bag. "Why?! Why did it turn out like this?!" Your screams grew harsher that other nurses fled to the room to determine what all the commotion was about. You looked at Mrs. Park and wept "Why?" She bowed her and went down to your level. "I'm extremely sorry, Y/N." Her eyes filled with guilt as she failed you, in the sense that it was her responsibility to take care of the mother and child during the miraculous process of conceiving up to delivering. She did not see your future, and the future of your child turn out this way. "I'm sorry." She truly was. You and your husband were escorted to a private room, where you could take a rest. Your eyes were still bloodshot, red and swollen. You were shivering uncontrollably from head to toe. You were not in the right state for a conversation at the moment, so Namjoom was the one who discussed with Mrs. Park about the next step. Namjoon calmly explained to you that they scheduled you for a labor induction a week from now. Mrs. Park said it would be better to give you time to adjust, time to accept the reality as it is. There was nothing you or he could do to prevent it. Miscarriages happen, even to the healthiest of women. You headed home later that day, you haven't said a single word. It pained your husband to see you like this so he decided to take a whole month off of work, he was fortunate that his boss was kind enough to. He allotted his time to take care of you, making sure you knew you were loved, even at your darkest moments. The cursed day came, and you we're nothing but scared. Your husband looked at you with hopeful eyes "You're not going to go through this alone. I'm with you all the way." He assured you, giving you one last kissed before they wheeled you to the delivery room. "I love you." He voiced out enough for you to hear.

After two gruelling hours that felt like forever, you were able to deliver your child. He was beautiful, absolutely beautiful. You held him in your arms. He was tiny and fragile, no less than 5 inches long. You looked at his face; he's got Namjoon's eyes and your nose. You gently touch his little feet; you were in complete awe at his cute toenails. "Look, love." You hummed to your husband who carried the same face as yours. "Beautiful." He smiled through his faltering voice, "Our baby is beautiful." You looked at you husband and said "Byeol." You smiled faintly, "Let's name him Kim Byeol." He merely nodded "I think that's a lovely name." You tried holding back the tears, for these were moments that needed to be cherished. A mother and child moment that can never be replaced. You were celebrating the birth of your child, your beautiful child. He might not be here physically, but spiritually he is. He was in your heart, in your mind, and in your soul. And he always will be. He was a part of you that can never be taken away. You loved him the day he was created, you love him the day he was taken, and you’ll love him until your last breath. "Byeol." So that every time the sun goes down and the moon takes over its throne, you know he's there. Watching over you while you sleep and dream about him. There may come certain times when the skies are cloudy or filled with rain, he will hide. For just like you, he is terrified. Once the storm calms and there's no more need to be scared, he will show himself. He will show you and teach you that the darker the sky, the brighter your little star will shine. It was time to say goodbye. You were not ready, you were not ready to say goodbye yet. You knew he could not stay with you forever, but when they took him from you, you felt empty. Your life felt empty. It's like a huge shadow was cast over you, engulfing you in darkness. 'No, please.' You whispered to yourself as they took your baby away. You feel asleep almost immediately, your body was tired, of course. You needed to rest, your mind and your body needed to rest. You woke up to the next day. Your husband happily prepared breakfast for you, his eyes were still red and swollen from all the crying he did last night. You were silent; you were confused; you were lost. He was worried you didn't want to eat anything, but he still pushed it upon himself to get you to eat something even if it's a small piece of bread and a glass of water. Once your meal was finished, he handed you a white frame. Two little footprints in the middle of the page, the name "Byeol Kim" written in beautiful calligraphy just above it, and below it, the words "Forever in my heart" pulled a heart string. Each corner was decorated in white lace with intricate design, a pair of angel wings at each side. "A gift." He interjected. "From the hospital." You were still silent, but he knew deep down in your heart that the simple gift meant the world to you. After your induction, she advised you to stay at home, take all the rest you need, eat healthily and take care of yourself. She wished you a speedy recovery.

 The car drive home was quiet. No words, no tears, no nothing. He watched as you aimlessly walk around the house, clutching onto your stomach, mumbling incoherent words. He did not mind he had to feed you, bathe you, clothe you, and brush your hair. He didn't mind any of those things because this was the way he could help your recovery. He loved you, and he wanted to do everything in his power to help you get back up on your feet, even if it's one day at a time. Namjoon woke up with the sound of your cries. He ran to where the sound came from and discovered you on the floor in tears, holding on the clothes that you bought not so long ago. "Byeol..." You sobbed, looking at the baby clothes. "My Byeol.." Striking your hands on the floor. "My baby's gone." You mourned endlessly. "What's the point of living if my baby didn't get to experience it?" The sound of your broken cries echoed inside the entire house. Namjoon picked you, bridal style and carried you to your room. "Hush now, love." He sang, rocking you in his arms. "Byeol's not gone." Namjoon squeezed your hand and placed it against your chest, just above your heart. "He's here." Then he transferred it to his "And here, too." He smiled, "As long as we're here, he will be here, too." His voice was like a lullaby that alleviated your pain. You thought you were alone, that there was nobody that could understand your pain. You carried that child. You carried that burden. You felt sad you forgot about the other most important person in your life, Namjoon. You harmoniously pranced with him through the better, now, you're defying all odds through the worse. Your previous flare-ups with your husband were nothing compared to this, this was a level beyond any other level. You were grateful, extremely. You fell in love with the man who's willing to move mountains for you, search high and low just to make you happy. He would gladly surrender his life in exchange for yours to be spared, eternally, you were grateful.

[Present]

You ran your fingers through his locks, looking intensely at his black orbs. "I love you." He leaned in closer and captured you with a kiss. His hands traveled to the hem of your shirt, lifting it in one fell swoop, you giggled in surprise. Namjoon pushed you further to the bed with hungry kisses, his instincts kicked in when he plopped you, back flat on the mattress. He looked at your shirtless figure below him, and he bit his lip and said: "You’re fucking beautiful." And continued with the interrupted kiss. It felt like a lifetime; it really did. You were so frightened of another heartbreak and going through the same experience again that you cut off all sexual involvement besides kissing and cuddling for 8 months. You were amazed at your husband's strong will but felt bad, too. Because you were blocking something that comes so natural between two people that love each other. He understood where you coming from, of course. There were just times that his naughty little hands found it's under your shirt or inside your panties, it was cute but still. You weren't ready then. You are now. "Oh my god." You hummed. You missed the way his breath felt your neck while he was kissing you there; you missed the way your hands clung onto his shoulders, your digits digging in to his skin; you miss the way your back would arch every time he would suck on your supple flesh, drawing out purple bruise; you simple miss him. "Is... Is this okay?" He broke the kiss, making sure you wanted this as much as he did. "Yes." You mused, shimmying your shorts and panties down. Your action caused his pupils to dilate, breath heavy. "I love you, Namjoon." "I love you too, Y/N." His mouth inched closer to your perked nubs, his warm breath fanning over your skin as he sucked more marks, sending your senses into overdrive. "Uggh-" You moaned, hands curling into a fist. "You enjoying yourself?" He chuckled lowly, taking in your nipple in his mouth which earned another loud moan from you. He sucked on it, tweaking it between his teeth. "Don't... Stop..." You whined. His hands came up and cupped both of your breasts, kneading it with his huge palm and long fingers. Your body once again contorted into an arch, as the bolt of electricity ran through your entire boy. You hustled him away, for a second there he thought you wanted to back out, but to his surprise, you grabbed his shirt and plucked it over his body. "I like seeing you naked." You huffed, scanning his entire figure. He then untied the lace of his sweatpants and pulled it down to his knees before kicking it off. "Me, too." He boasted his hard 7-inch member meeting you tip to eye. His head was glossy due to the beads of pre-cum coming out of its narrow slit. "Wow." You mouthed, eyes still affixed on his dick. "What can I say, it missed you, a lot." He joked while pumping himself. "Want me to stretch you out first? It's been so long." He suggested. You shyly nod and wait for him to descend to you soaked womanhood. "I guess someone misses it, too." He growled, his face mere centimetres away from your core. "You smell as amazing as the day I ate you out for the first time." He groaned through close nit teeth, wanting to eat you whole. "F-fuck!" You whipped when he licked a stripe over you juice stained core. "You're so wet for me, Y/N," He pridefully stated. "And only for me." He was ravenous, like a carnivore that hasn't had a meal in days chomping down on its prey. Boy, he ate you the right way. He managed to pull himself off of your inviting pussy because of the need to fuck you was taking over his body. "Is that okay? You're pretty lubed up now." He gave you a certain glance that could only refer to one thing. You spread your legs, coaxing him to dive right in. Right away, his body hovered over yours, he lined himself next to your dripping core. "Tell me if it hurts, Okay?" He said before gradually pushing the tip of his cock. He went in nice and steady, "God, I forgot you were so fucking tight." He pushed in further, you pussy was swallowing his member inch by inch. Your walls were clenching around his shaft. You yelped at the delicious stretch, his pulsating dick in filling you up so good. The sound of your wanton moans reverberated in his ears making him pulled away and then snap his back into you so fucking hard. "Namjoon-ah!" You screamed as he thrashed you onto the mattress. You grabbed a fistful of his locks; you tuck your butt in and raised your pelvis a bit higher, giving him a better angle to penetrate you. "Shit." His voice was cracked, breathing heavy. "I think I'm about to come... " He whined, quickening his pace. "Cum with me, Y/N." With his words, your velvet walls hugged his hard member perfectly, his thrust we sloppy, an indication of him approaching his climax. "Fuuuuck!" He groaned out loud when he spilled his seed inside of your warm hole. "Fuck indeed." You playfully hummed while he rode out both of your highs. He managed to squeeze in one last push before his member turned flaccid. His body dropped on your own. "You're heavy..." You grumbled, his sweat mixed with yours "Sweaty, too! Ewww!" You joked. Namjoon looked at you and said "Shower?" with a big grin on his face. "Yes please!"

Five weeks have passed, and you were 4 days late for your period. You had been experiencing sudden mood swings and cravings the past week, your breast felt more tender than the usual and morning sickness plague you every single day. You searched for your spare Pregnancy test kit in your medicine cabinet. You peed on the stick, thinking nothing of it, not expecting anything. "Positive" You uttered, speechless at the sight of two red lines. "It's positive." You lowered your voice, hoping your husband didn't hear you. You wanted to surprise him and what great timing you thought, his birthday was just right around the corner. You stuffed the test in your pocket and ran upstairs. Rummaging through your closet, you found the box of your engagement ring. You pulled out all of the foam contents, making sure the small test would fit inside. "Yes!" It was a perfect fit. You couldn't wait for six more, so you had to tell him now. "Love??" You yelled. "Come up here for a second. I need to show you something." "In a minute!" He was hanging the clothes you had finished washing together. "What is it?" He stepped into the room and was greeted by you with a mischievous grin on your face. "Okay..." He cautiously shut the door behind him and continued "What are you up to?" He asked with a doubtful tone in his voice. "You birthday's coming up, and I got you an early gift!" You cheerfully stated. "You know you didn't have to." He tucked the strand of hair behind your ear. "You're already the best gift I received." Placing a gentle kiss on your lips. Your grin grew wider as you said: "I found something better!" You handed him the small box, and he looked confused. "Your? Ring?" He chuckled at your antics. "Open it, c'mon!" The moment he opens the box and laid eyes on whatever was inside, no words were spoken, he hugged you so tight, oh so very tight and said "Okay. This is probably the best birthday gift anybody has ever given me." Fast forward to a year and a half later with you sitting on the living room floor. Same old house, same old car, same old couch, but... Something was different... You were thankful your prayers had been answered as you heard the pitter-patter of little footsteps on the hardwood floor. End.

a/n: somewhat edited. idk 11/22/18

[imagine-loki]

Loki and the Witchling

TITLE: Loki and the Witchling 

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 66/76

AUTHOR: nekoamamori

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a healer working with the Avengers when Loki comes to join the team

RATING: T (so far) 

NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

   The next two days passed in relative peace, despite that you kept cursing about being without your powers. The palace was cleaned and repaired from the attack, Loki’s duties went on as usual, though he would scarcely let you out of his sight. You caught a few naps in his lap on the throne. He loved it when you did, loved that you were safe, even without your powers. You fretted over his wound and kept cursing your lack of powers.

    Loki chuckled when you’d fretted too much. “Fear not, love. It’s just fine. I’m fine. I’m not a weakling who can’t live with a little cut for a couple of days,” he reminded you warmly after you’d fretted once too often.

    “But-” you protested, hating seeing him injured, even with such a small injury.

    “You’ll heal it tomorrow,” he reminded you warmly. “Stop fretting, Sig. That is an order from your king,” he added, teasing. You rolled your eyes at him.

    “You didn’t think that would actually work, did you?” you tease and kiss him.

    “Not at all, but a smile and a kiss from you was well worth it,” he grinned in reply.

    *

    The second you got your powers back, you healed the cut on Loki’s arm. He kissed you when you had. “See? I told you I could survive a few days with a small cut,” he told you warmly. “We’ve gotten quite spoiled having a healer around,” he added.

    “I’m sure the team realizes that by now. I haven’t been there to heal them in a month. Poor Clint is probably full of bullets by now…” you mused, but with a touch of real concern.

    “Darling, they’d contact us if they need our help. I left one of the ravens with Thor just for that purpose,” he reminded you.

    You sighed. “I know. I can still worry about our friends. They’re helpless without us,” you reminded him, trying to joke and reassure both of you that the team would be ok without you. They’d survived without you just fine until you’d moved into the tower. They could survive however long you were ruling Asgard.

    Or so you thought until a couple weeks later when a raven flew into the healing wing. You didn’t think anything of it at first. Ravens flew around the palace like owls at Hogwarts, and served much the same purpose most of the time. You even got messages as head healer occasionally, so it really wasn’t that strange. Except that you noted the air of magic around the raven, stronger than the others who had come to see you. This one was one of Odin’s. You went to it and removed the note from its leg. The team was in trouble.

    You donned your battle armor with magic and turned to the healers. “Healer Ingris, an emergency has come up. You’re in charge until I get back,” you told her firmly.

    “Yes, my lady,” she replied, extra polite when you were barking out orders, when you were in battle gear. Everyone in Asgard knew to fear the healers when they went into battle. It was best to do what the healers said.

    You nodded and teleported directly to the throne, propriety the least of your concern. Loki jumped to his feet when he saw you appear in your armor. “Sig?”

    “Midgard is in trouble. The team- Thor-” you told him. You saw the hesitation in his eyes. He couldn’t leave Asgard. He had to stay on the throne and rule here. You saw the hesitation, saw the heartbreak in his eyes that he couldn’t come. “I’ll return to Midgard, help your brother and the team,” you told him quickly. He started to open his mouth to protest that he should come. “There must always be a member of the House of Odin upon the throne of Asgard,” you reminded him firmly.

    /There must always be a Stark in Winterfell?/ he teased telepathically. You gave him a small smile.

    He nodded. “Take the Tesseract from the vault so you don’t have to rely on the Bifrost. If Thor-” his words cut off. “Come get me if-”

    You nodded. The Tesseract would allow you to come and go as you pleased without waiting for Heimdall. “I’ll kick his ass myself for scaring you, my king,” you told him firmly, determined to reassure him that the team would be ok. He gave you the barest hint of a smile.

    “Be safe, darling,” he bid you. “If you are injured I shall be quite cross with you,” he reminded you with love in his voice.

     “I love you too,” you told him and teleported down to the vault, not bothering with walking when time could very well be of the essence. The guards looked like they wanted to stop you, until they realized who you were. They still didn’t look convinced, though, even though Loki had been down here with you to show you how to use the Tesseract in the first place. “The King has ordered me to use the Tesseract to return to Midgard and aid Thor,” you informed him as you strode over to the Tesseract and picked it up. A little focus, a touch of power to activate the power of the Tesseract, and you were in the common room of the tower. You vanished the Tesseract to a dimensional pocket to keep it safe.

    “Jarvis, where’s the team?” you asked after you’d appeared and no one was here. You summoned your comm device to put into your ear, while Jarvis rattled off a location. “Guys, I’m here!” you called into the comm.

    “Y/N! Thank god!” Came a chorus from the team.

    “Get your ass over here. We need all the help we can get!” Stark called over the comms.

    “Incoming. Don’t shoot me,” you reminded them and teleported to where they were. The battle ranging around you was huge. There were aliens… seriously… aliens? and monsters, maybe monster aliens. It was hard to tell.

    “Thor’s down!” Cap called when you appeared. Thor was easy to spot and you knew it had to be bad for him to be down. He could withstand nearly anything. You ran to his side, your hands already glowing blue by the time you reached him.

    “Thor!” you called. He was bleeding from so many words. “If you die, I will be bringing your ass back from Valhalla so Loki can kill you again himself,” you told him as you knelt beside him to begin the healing.

    “I expect nothing less,” he told you weakly. “There was just too many of them. All ganged up on me at the same time,”

    “So we’ll kick their asses once you’re back on your feet. Don’t make me go get your brother. He’s already worried,” you told him as you dumped more power into healing him faster.

    “He said no such thing,”

    You rolled your eyes. “Of course he didn’t. But it killed him to stay behind, though duty demands it,”

    “The House of Odin must be on the throne,”

    “And so he is,” you told him. “He’s been such a good king, Thor. You’ll be proud of him.” It took longer than you’d have liked, but you got him healed and back on his feet. He grabbed your hand and hauled you back to your feet too.

    “On your feet, Sig. No time to rest in this battle,” he bid you. You nodded, shook off the haze of power drain and dove into battle. The battle was long and brutal. You had to save teammates from the brink of death more than once until you finally found the hole between the worlds that the aliens were using to cross to Earth from their world. You managed to magic the portal shut. Clint tried to cover you while you did, but you still ended up with a spear in your side.

    You turned to the offending alien. “That was just plain rude,” you informed it and set it on fire, glaring in anger that it had harmed you. It flailed behind you, shrieking while you turned your attention back to the portal, forcing it shut again while most of the team blasted the aliens on the other side, keeping them from coming through. “Thor, a little help!” you called as he landed.

    “What do you need?” he asked, looking at the spear in your side.

    “Pull the spear,” you told him through gritted teeth.

    “But-” that was usually a stupid thing to do.

    “I’m a healer, do it,” you growled at him. He gripped the spear and yanked it out of your side. Before it could start bleeding worse, you used shields to emergency bandage it.

    The rest of the team was taking down the remaining aliens. You were breathing heavily, drained. “Cover Nat and Clint,” Thor told you firmly, giving you a safer position to finish the fight from. You nodded and accepted his order, accepted the safer assignment. You had done enough already, especially injured. You covered Nat and Clint while they fought the aliens long distance with guns and Clint’s bow. It wasn’t long at all before the remaining aliens were defeated.

    The team gathered around you, glad to see you, and worried over your injury until you reassured them that you were ok. It would be a quick heal when you got back to Asgard. Thor touched your shoulder. “How’s he doing? Really?” he asked, concerned for his baby brother and the responsibility he put on his shoulders.

    “He’s doing spectacularly, Thor. He was nervous at first, of course, but he makes a wonderful king. The people love him and trust in his decisions for the realm. They even seem to care for me at his side. I’ve actually taken over as head healer in Mother’s absence,” you add that last part a little proudly. Thor raised an eyebrow at your use of the word ‘mother’. You flushed, but he smiled warmly, approving of the change of address for Frigga.

    “I’m glad to hear it,” Thor told you warmly. “I knew he’d be a good king,”

    “He really, truly is. But I should get back to him before he worries even more. He was so distraught when the raven arrived. Especially since he couldn’t come help himself,”

    “He did his duty as king and remained behind,” Thor reminded you. You nodded.

    “I know, but he still worries, enough that he sent me with this,” you pulled the Tesseract out of the dimensional pocket.

    “He really was worried to send you with that,” Thor commented while the rest of the team gasped and protested at the cube being out of Asgard’s vault.

    “If he asks, I kicked your ass for worrying him,” you told Thor with a smirk. You said goodbye to the others, promised you’d come home as soon as you could, and used the Tesseract to teleport back to the throne in Asgard.

[likethetailofacomet]

What Friends Are For

Author’s Note: I was going to skip over this chapter, but then as I was writing it, it gave me warm feels thinking about what an amazing thing a friend can be in your life. Claire has had a rough go of things, and I wanted to make sure that she had some people she could count on, so, here we are. This might be a personal piece, you might not find it necessary, but i promise more action and CERTAINLY more steam in the next chapter. 

No warnings, just pure friend love. :) 

tagging: @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @notoriouscs @gardeningourmet @natalievgoodehenry @nekkidmolerat @ooo-barff-ooo  if you would like to be added please let me know! 

After the hustle and bustle of her first few days in Cordonia, Claire was glad to have some time to herself this week in between events. The races had been Tuesday, and although they had started early in the afternoon, and the last race had concluded by 3pm, the tea party and festivities that followed went well into the evening. Claire hadn’t gotten back that night until nearly midnight, and had slept most of the next morning away; the jet lag, adrenaline and excitement finally wearing her down. It was Thursday afternoon now, and Claire was relaxing in her room curled up in the window seat with a notebook and pen, doodling and writing while music played from the phone in her lap and rain lightly tapped on the window panes. She smiled to herself, sinking a little more into the cushioned seat, as she thought about where she’d normally be right about now: in the bar cooler, mopping out all the spilled beer around the kegs and hauling six packs and crates from the stock room. Instead she was resting up and turning in early before the long trek to Lythikos in the morning.

The phone in her lap glowed and buzzed and she nearly fell out of the window seat as she threw her notebook aside to answer it. She'd been waiting for this chance since she got home from the races on Tuesday. She'd even blocked time off from Maxwell and Bertrand's rigorous etiquette training, which she'd agreed to as even though she wasn't trying to win Liam's heart, fuck, still have to have that chat with Max..., she didn't want to make a fool out of herself at every dinner and ball for the next three months. They'd protested at first, of course, but she'd furrowed her eyebrows at them and set them with the look that she used to give customers when they were getting out of line and, not unlike her patrons at the bar, it had worked.

“Hello? Daniel?” she answered the phone with a big, dumb grin.

“Hey! There's my world traveler! I have so, so, so many questions!”

Claire laughed, bringing her free hand up to her forehead. “You and me both, Dan. Are you on your 15 or did you just run out on a fake smoke break? How much time do you have?”

“I'm on my 15 so don't hold back,” he answered.

“Okay, well I'm going to start by making the long story short, and that's this: I am stupidly, definitely, and completely falling for this grumpy, impossible to read, Cordonian guy and I don't think there's anything I can do about it.” She let out a breath. “I mean, I got on a plane and crossed an ocean to come after this guy that I met one time, under the guise of freaking competing for a chance to marry the crown freaking prince. That's got to be the craziest thing anyone's ever done! I mean, right? I'm nuts, right? I am.”

Daniel laughed. “You know what, maybe. But, hey!” she was trying to cut him off. He laughed over her. “No! Hey! Let me finish!” he said and she obliged. “As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted, maybe it's not crazy.”

“Okay, you know what, you are supposed to be the voice of reason here, Dan.” she was feigning disappointment with his reaction.

“Well, maybe I'm tired of being the cynical sidekick. Maybe it's time my cold, black, coffee fueled heart learned to let love in. I'm trying baby steps here by being supportive of your insanity.” she could hear the sarcastic smirk in his voice, even though she knew he was being serious.

“Well alert the presses that the jaded Mr. Quinn has grown a soul, ladies and gents!” she teased. She was glad though, if this was truly how Daniel felt. He'd always been closed off about relationships, never really getting close to anyone, just like her. It was time for both of them to try for something solid, even if it felt a little crazy.

“Ha, ha, ha. If you were here right now I'd chuck an ice cube at you. So tell me about this fairy tale guy of yours.”

Claire rolled her eyes, hoping he could tell. “Well he's hardly a fairy tale, I mean, this is still me we're talking about here, so he's rough around the edges and snarky...but...” she trailed off and felt heat rush throughout her as she thought of the two kisses that they'd shared, the second with almost double the intensity of the first.

“But what? Don't leave me hanging here?”

“But he is the best fucking kisser in the world. Daniel, I swear to any and all gods it's true.”

Daniel burst out laughing. “Well hey there's a perk!”

“And there's something else too...it's like I feel drawn to him. Almost like I feel like I already know him...it's...intense. Kinda scary...” it was, if she was being honest with herself. As much as she was soaring from the way their lips had met and the way his body had felt so close to hers, she was terrified. The last time she'd thought she'd felt this way about someone was with Alex, and she'd never been more wrong about anything in her life.

Sensing what she was feeling as if there weren't 7 hours and thousands of miles between them. “Claire, scary how? Scary like Alex?” she heard the concern in his voice, and rightfully so. He'd dealt with Alex for as long as she had.

“No,” she said firmly, truly believing that Drake wasn't an abusive man. “I just mean...what if I'm wrong and my heart ends up broken, but it's broken because I flung it out the window of a private jet while we were cruising at altitude?”

“Claire.” he said her name with finality and it broke her out of her spiral. “Stop. Just...trust yourself okay? You are the bravest person I know. Trust in that.”

She leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window. “Thanks, Daniel,” she whispered. He always knew what she needed to hear. Then, something he'd said went off in her head like a trigger. “Hey, by the way...you mentioned Alex...”

There was silence on the other end. Finally, Daniel's voice came back, resolute, “I know. Today was his probationary hearing. He's out.”

“Hey, just, be careful, okay? Just...if that psycho even comes near you just...” she had started shaking without noticing.

“I will.” he promised, and it wasn't enough to erase her fears, but she knew it was all she was getting. She was glad that

“Okay.”

“Okay. Enough about that scumbag. What's next for you over in wonderland?”

“It's Cordonia,”she said, knowing full well that she'd mentioned the country's name at least six times to him since she'd left New York, “and we're going to a place called Lythikos tomorrow, this super serious duchess named Olivia is hosting.”

“And is your dream man going?”

“I'm regretting telling you anything. Yes, Drake is going.” she felt her heart grow warm just saying that out loud.

“Well kid, have a great time. I have to get going. New girl's probably crashing and burning in there.” she could hear him smirking.

“Yeah, get back in there and save the day,” she played along. “But hey, thanks for calling. I miss you.”

“Don't mention it, Claire. You know I'm here for you no matter what.”

“I know. No matter what.”

They said good bye and Claire picked up the notebook and pen that she'd cast aside when Daniel's phone call had come in. Black ink flowers scrawled across the top of the page, her thoughts poured out below them. Stretching and yawning she moved to the foot of the bed where Maxwell had dropped off a packed bag for her trip to Lythikos; apparently it was in the far reaches of the North, in a mountain range that had year ‘round snow, so the bag included warm scarves, a coat and boots. She tucked the journal into the bag so that she’d have it with her; she always had it with her. She’d begun journaling after her mother passed away as a way to get her thoughts out of her head so they couldn’t fester in there. It helped a little, but as she suspected, some things, some thoughts, were more difficult to remove. She’d tried to write down every confusing, exciting and terrifying thought or feeling that she’d had about Drake, about coming to Cordonia…about Alex, but there were plenty still rolling around in there, even after her chat with Daniel.

A knock on her door made her jump; aside from Maxwell, and as of this morning his brother Bertrand, no one came knocking on her door. She slid her feet into her slippers and padded over to the door. Opening it, she was surprised to see the smiling face of Lady Hana.

“Hi, Lady Claire,” she beamed.

“Hi, Hana, please like I’ve been telling everyone, drop the ‘lady.’” She smiled warmly and saw her smile reflected back from Hana.

“You can do the same with me,” she responded. “Proper etiquette can certainly feel impersonal, can’t it?”

Claire nodded. “Yes. And in my case, also highly unnecessary. Would you like to come in?” She moved aside and allowed Hana into her room.

“Thank you,” she floated in, her pink dress flowing about her ankles. Claire looked down at her own dressed down appearance; grey sweat pants and an oversized t shirt that said “I <3 NY Bagels”. She internally noted for the 10,000th time how odd it was that she’d ended up here.  

“So, what brings you by, Hana?” Claire asked, shutting the door behind her as Hana took a seat on the bench at the foot of the bed.

“Oh! I really don’t want to bother you, I-“her eyes widened.

“It’s no bother, Hana, I wouldn’t have let you in if I didn’t want to.”

The look on Hana’s face made it clear that she had no idea what it was like to only do things that you wanted. Claire felt a pang of pity for Hana and all of the ladies at court in this regard. “Oh, well, in that case, thank you!” she squeaked. She hesitated, running the gauzy top layer of fabric from her dress through her fingers. Claire came and took a seat next to her. “So, I…I feel like I can trust you, Claire. I feel like you’re…different from the rest of them.”

“I am, and you can. I’m Irish; I can keep a secret and hold a grudge.” She winked. “And honestly, I feel the same way about you. Something just told me we’d be friends. I don’t have many friends…none, really, aside from my friend Dan back home, but he’s more like an annoying twin brother than a friend really… anyway, my point is,” she softened her voice and gave Hana a comforting look, “I’d like it if we could be friends. This whole thing, this place,” she gestured generally at her surroundings, “can be a lot on your own.” Wanting friends? What is this place doing to me? Claire mused.

Hana’s look of appreciation could not be more apparent. “It really can,” she sighed, “especially when…” her eyes went to the door as if double checking that it was indeed closed. “Especially when you have no interest in courting the prince, but your family has pinned all of their hopes to you doing just that.”

“Oh, Hana, you couldn’t have known but you came to the exact right person…Er, not about the parents thing… that’s a pressure that I’ll never know.” Claire felt a twinge of heartache thinking about her parents, but decided that Hana could learn about them another day. “But, if I’m being honest, I’m not here for Liam, either.” Claire went on to share with Hana her feelings for Drake and everything that had transpired between them since she’d gotten here. Hana confided in Claire about the pressures that her parents had heaped upon her, as well as the biggest secret that she’d ever kept from them; Hana was a lesbian.

“Listen, Hana, You are who you are, and you love who you love. Your parents can’t change that no matter how hard they try, so my advice is don’t change for them. I’m here for you, and I’m sure if you spoke honestly with Liam about it, he would understand- if you’re ready to, of course.”

Hana sighed. “Thanks, Claire. I’m not sure what I’m ready for. It took me two days to get the confidence to talk to you about it. I just…I know that you come from the real world and that you’d understand. Even if no one else does…I just needed one person to understand.” She looked down at her lap.

“Hey, you know what? Let’s have a girl’s night. It’s been a million years since I’ve had anyone that I wanted to have a girl’s night with, and I can’t think of a better time.”

Hana perked up. “That…sounds fun. What is a girl’s night?”

Claire got up and opened the large cabinet across from the bed to reveal a T.V. She took the big , fluffy blanket from the window seat and spread it out on the bed. Sitting on the bed, she patted the mattress next to her and Hana jumped up to sit with her. “This is a girl’s night,” she said, flicking the television on, changing the channels until she found a sappy romantic movie. “We are going to watch this movie and talk about embarrassing crap and about crushes and you’re going to braid my hair, and I’m going to paint your nails.”

Hana beamed and, without warning, threw her thin arms around Claire and hugged tightly. “Claire, you might very well be my first real girl friend.”

Claire considered her words for a moment. Suddenly overcome with emotion, she choked back a tear. “You are definitely mine,” she said, truthfully.

The night passed in giggles and tears, secrets shared and embarrassing moments revealed. After the third movie they’d both fallen asleep sprawled out on Claire’s bed. Tomorrow would be a day full of travel capped off with their arrival at the standoffish Duchess Olivia’s home and more structured courtly events and rules to follow, but tonight was a night of friendship; a night that Claire and Hana had been denied for far too long.

[mpmwrites]

Tiffany Blue

Heeey it’s Trashboi’s birthday! (Fun fact, also my little brother’s birthday). I’m still working on my otpnsfwchallenge fic, but here's some birthday fluff! T for language!

He wasn't upset. Because, yeah, it was his 37th birthday, and it wasn't like he'd done anything about it for the past few years other than getting coffee and letting Tina pay for it as a gift. Not to mention, he and Hank did have plans to go out later that night. So he just…stewed. Picked through paperwork and watched the clock until it was finally time to leave. When six finally rolled around he hauled himself out of his chair almost before the digits on the clock turned.

We getting dinner? He reached out to Hank, who'd left work an hour before, as he headed out of the building. It was raining, and he pulled up his hood as he headed to the bus stop. He tucked himself under the awning and dropped to the bench as his phone let out the 'meow' text alert he'd downloaded.

Change of plans.

I was gonna take you out but I figured we should stay in instead, just us. Gavin sighed in the damp loneliness of the bus station, the sound of traffic making a dreary kind of white noise.

And Connor. And Rafe. He wasn't trying to come across as petulant, but he was disappointed. He thought they were going to go to the bar and drink Hank's bank account dry and eat too-greasy pizza. He'd fantasized about giggling on the Uber home and sloppily having his way with Hank in the privacy of his apartment. Instead, he got beers on the couch and had to spend his time in Hank's bed feeling self-conscious because of the two androids that now lived there too. And Sumo.

Didn't I say just us?

Sumo will be there, tho. Droids going out. The bus's tires washed a puddle over the curb that soaked into Gavin's shoes. He boarded the bus, hunching against the rain briefly and flashing his city bus card as he passed the driver. He collapsed into a seat near the center of the bus, as not to let the air conditioner make him feel worse. He pulled his phone back out and stared at the unanswered text. Part of him wanted to pout and get Hank to do what he wanted, but the intelligent part of him knew that Hank probably had a reason for the change. As he mused, another text arrived. Gonna order chinese from that place you like.

Alright Gavin answered plainly, When do you want me there?

1.5hrs. 730?

K

Once home, Gavin dropped his wet shoes into the bathroom to dry out on the tile and shucked his clothes. He mused on a shower, but the rain traffic made the bus take long enough that he doubted he'd have time. If he was going to be sitting at Hank's all night, he was at least going to take advantage of the lack of intruding androids. He dug in the drawer for a pair of his tighter jeans and then another drawer for a tee that proudly barked "Gay AF" in rainbow letters. He stuffed his backpack with his toothbrush and a change of clothes for work the next day and grimaced as he put his dry socks into his squishy shoes; he needed them for work tomorrow, so he'd have to let them dry at Hank's.

Thankfully, the rain faded as he rode the bus to Hank's street. The station was about three blocks away from Hank's place. He hopped over puddles, letting his irritation evaporate as he ambled down the sidewalk. He took a final deep breath and didn't bother to knock before letting himself in, "Hey sorry I took so long, the--"

"Happy Birthday!" Connor and Hank were yelling, Rafe sounded like he was being forced into the festivity. The three stood in the kitchen with Sumo laying in the corner. Connor sat at the kitchen table, seemingly waiting; Hank was holding a chocolate-iced cake with lit candles on top; Rafe stood by the sink with an apron on, looking annoyed at the pile of dishes. Sumo's tail thumped against the linoleum at the sudden excitement. The room was bathed in warm light, the smell of the cake surrounding the five of them. Gavin approached and received a warm kiss on the cheek as Hank held the fire hazard away from him; the cake had a full 37 candles on it and many of the flames had merged together into larger flames. Gavin thought it may be a possibility that the fire alarm was going to go off. Even so, he was pretty sure he was blushing at the attention.

"Cancelled our date to set your house on fire instead? I mean, arson isn't exactly my kink, but if--"

"Just blow out the damn candles, Gav." Hank cut him off. The smaller man did as told, blowing hard. Most of them went out, some did not, and they re-ignited the others. Gavin couldn't help but laugh as Hank leaned in to help. With several breaths they were all extinguished and released small streams of smoke into the air.

"Did you make a wish, Detective Reed?" Connor spoke up as Hank slid the cake back onto the counter. Rafe turned back to the dishes, all of which were seemingly covered in chocolate cake batter.

"Wishing is for kids." He rolled his eyes at the android without looking at him, He leaned close to Hank and swiped some icing from the cake, stuffing his pointer finger in his mouth before the older man could protest. "Sides, I have cake and shoes with puddles in them, what more could a guy need?" He hefted himself up to sit on the counter, feet dangling. The chatted like that in the kitchen until Connor and Rafe said their goodbyes and left the dishwasher running in their absence.

"Sorry I changed stuff around." Hank offered, standing close to the younger man, "It was actually a lie." he admitted carefully. Gavin shook his head,

"Which was the lie? Going out or staying in?" He smiled nonetheless.

"I mean with you in that shirt, I should take you out and show you off, but staying home was always the plan." His hands slid to Gavin's waist as he appraised the younger man approvingly.

"It's fine." Gavin shrugged, "Who am I to complain, anyway?" He hopped off the counter to take his shoes off by the door, "Chinese, Cake, hanging out with you." He smiled genuinely.

"Don't forget gifts." Hank picked up a small blue box from the table and tossed it over; Gavin caught it easily.

"It's Tiffany Blue." He joked, feigning a swoon. He rattled the box slightly and heard nothing inside. For a brief moment, the thought passed that it could be a ring, and he flushed as he untitled the black ribbon and popped the lid off; only one way to find out.

Inside there was a ring, but not the kind that put his heart in his throat. It was a key ring with a  single gold key on it. He looped a finger through it and held it up, padding back to the kitchen and looking at Hank challengingly, "A key."

"Yeah." Hank breathed. He rubbed the back of his neck slowly, procrastinating the explanation. "It's a key to the house." He dropped his hand with finality and caught Gavin's in it, "I talked about it with Connor and Rafe. We, uh… I want you to move in." He explained, looking apologetic. Gavin opened his mouth to speak but scrunched his face into one of concern before he formulated a thought.

"I have a cat." He explained, as if it truly posed as an answer. Hank smiled slowly,

"Tesla can come too." He looked amused. "I don't want you taking the bus just to see me. I don’t want to have to think about if you have clothes or a toothbrush or any of that bullshit anymore. I don't want to have to worry about if you're sleeping properly or having nightmares." He offered, his voice quiet as if the sappiness was embarrassing. "I love you, and for you I will tolerate that bitch of a cat." He laughed, kissing Gavin's forehead. The smaller man leaned against Hank, nodding against his chest,

"I guess that sounds nice."

(((SO I also had a deleted half-written scene of Connor and Rafe giving Gavin gifts, so here’s that!)))

"From what I understand, birthdays are not for fulfilling needs." Connor offered, picking up a purple gift bag with red tissue in it and passing it to the brunette.

"You got me a gift?" Gavin looked confused, but pleased as he pulled out the tissue.  He peered into the bag and grinned, fishing out the black box with foreign writing on it. "This was on my amazon wish list. It's been sold out for weeks." He said in awe, prying the cardboard box open and pulling out the hand-sized neon colored cube.

"I simply found it from another source. I'm glad you enjoy it though." The android offered as Gavin ditched the box and giftwrap to scramble the cube without looking at it.

"Thank you." He flashed a small smile as Connor's LED flickered yellow at his sudden amity.

"Don't you already have one on your desk… and your coffee table?" Hank offered, gabbing at another gift on the table and passing it over.

"I do, but this one is new and top of the line and awesome. " Gavin offered as he traded the cube for the next gift. Rafe put the remaining bowls into the dishwasher and started it before turning to watch,

"That one's from me." he admitted. it was a larger box, wrapped in green striped paper. Inside was a tee from Gavin's favorite band. He held it up to his chest and smiled, 'Not Famous' proclaimed across the black fabric in white scrawl.

"I wouldn't have thought androids would be so good at this." He mused,

[like-me-but-smaller]

Nov 24th

8:30am - all bran + mum's granola (linseed, almonds, sesame seeds etc), lite soy milk, 1/2 banana

10:00 - Black tea

*stepping and weights on wiifit board while watching fighting season yay me*

1pm - (fucking spiralled) 2 tsp peanut butter, swig of soy milk, taco sauce + 1/2 tomato + salt & pepper + lettuce (like 10 calories tbh but I was just EATING it wasn't a meal -_-)

1:10pm - superfood microwave bowl - broccoli, spinach, purple cabbage, quinoa, snowpeas, chickpeas, chili flakes

2pm - 2 packs vegan cookies (left over from trip. Must give away soon)

3pm - 2 homemade apple crumble muffins, 1 weight watchers gluten free choc cookie (awful), 1 cup green tea, 1 cup coffee + raw sugar.

7pm - masses stock cube soup + tiny bit of pasta.

I honestly think I ate the calories I would have burnt by existing today. We will see. Tomorrow I will weigh in on mum's digital scales and see. Even if u don't go down, I'm in this for the long haul - well, the long haul is at least until Jan 31. I want to change my lifetime of eating habits by then. New habits take average 66 days to change I read recently... So I'm giving myself 3 months to be sure.