#and i also want at least one big window i can put a fucking chaise or smth in front of

[baekuras]

Apparently my one weakness are duplex apartments

My second weakness is not having enough money to rent one

#txts #i just like the openness and just....have extra space further up-ness and all that #they always look so nice and...fresh? #just all the space #but i can barely pay for a shitty apartment bc even the most basic shit takes half my salary lol #but i still wanna #and i also want at least one big window i can put a fucking chaise or smth in front of #to dramatically lay on and look outside #just for aesthetics nothing else xp #i have dreams ppl #also a big bathtub so its actually useful and not just a hinderance #i need...to earn so much more money #30k a year just isn't enough to actually live #which is fucking ridiculous but okay then

[highonchocolate]

Take Two: The Guardian in Gotham Chapter 3

First   Previous   Next   Ao3

Bruce sat at the head of the long oak dining table and waited for his children to make their way into the room for dinner. They came in as a staggered group; Jason arguing about some novel with Dick while Tim and Damian brought up the back as they discussed their patrol routes for the night. After Alfred and Damian helped serve the food, Bruce cleared his throat pointedly and waited for everyone to pay attention. 

Once everyone had looked up from their discussions he spoke. “Alfred has a friend named Gina; and she had called this evening to see if her granddaughter could stay with us. She lives in Paris; but her classmates were bullying her and her parents thought a change of scenery would do her some good. I have agreed to let her stay with us in the Manor.” Even before he had finished speaking the table erupted with different questions from his children.

“Bruce are you sure this is wise?” Tim questioned over Dick’s ecstatic squealing (“I’ve always wanted a little sister!!!”), and Jason’s grumbling (“Shut the fuck up Dickhead. I don’t know why the fuck B is bringing someone into this house to live with this dysfunctional family.”). Ignoring his siblings; he pressed on “I mean, how are we going to hide Batman and the vigilante stuff from her?” As Bruce paused to answer Damian stood up and scowled. “Tt. This is a moronic decision. Inform me of when this girl is to arrive and inform  her to stay out of my way.” He lifted his chin and crossed his arms before marching out of the room.

After Damian’s outburst, Jason looked over from where he was arguing with Dick and added his input “Timbo’s right, B. How are we going to hide that from her?” 

“We’ll have to make sure at least two of you remain in the manor each night so that she doesn’t get too suspicious.” He answered. “Now, the only reason I agreed to letting her stay here was namely for Alfred, and also because of what her classmates did to her” 

“What do you mean, Bruce?” Dick questioned. “Did they like assault her or something?”

“Or something” He responded grimly before sending the photo to all three of them. 

As they looked at the photo, he observed their reactions to the image. Dick was not smiling for once, and his sunny blue eyes had darkened to an icy frost. His whole body was tense; and his jaw was so clenched his teeth were grinding together. Jason was standing up with two guns locked and loaded in his hands. He had also managed to procure a knife from somewhere, which appeared as he leant forward and asked “What were the names of the people who did this again?” in a completely lethal tone. Tim, already hacking away at his computer responded “Not there yet, but from what I can find out, she goes to College Francois DuPont and she’s fifteen.” He briefly looked up and made eye contact with Bruce before asking “How fast do you think we can get our lawyers onto those kids B?” At the declarations of his children, Bruce closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “We can not file any lawsuits yet, not without Marinette’s permission.” He answered, sighing tiredly. “Marinette?” Dick questioned. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Tim responded instantly. “That’s her name.” 

“She will be coming on Monday, and Alfred will be picking her up from the airport. She is also going to attend GA, so someone please tell Damian.” Bruce said as he stood from the table. “Now hurry up, we have patrol tonight, and there have been rumors about a drug ring near Crime Alley.”

---

After coming back from the hospital and having a sleepover Thursday night, Chloé and Adrien were completely sleep-deprived as they trudged into school the next morning. Settling into her usual seat beside Sabrina, Chloé silently thanked all the Kwami that she didn’t have to sit next to Lila. Halfway though class, Mrs. Bustier suddenly frowned and looked at the back row. “Does anyone know where Marinette is? She still hasn’t arrived yet!”

“Probably still sleeping at home! She’ll come in completely late as usual!” Alya cackled. At her words, Chloé felt her entire body heat up with righteous indignity. She opened her mouth to tell that wannabe tabloid reporter to get her facts straight, but then Adrien caught her eye and shook his head. He then pointed at his phone, and mimed unlocking it before pointing to her. Catching the hint, she checked her messages to see that Marinette had sent them a text.

FashionableBug: Mari said to tell Chloé and Adrien not to do anything to Lila or anyone else that starts making stuff up. (From Luka btw)

You’reUnderAgreste: Me-ouch, My Lady. I would never!

QueenofMean: shut it with the puns, Noir. Maribug, I will only listen to you because you’re injured and I’m not going to go against your wishes.

Putting her phone away, Chloé resigned herself to a miserable school day. 

---

After school, she walked into Marinette’s room and flopped dramatically onto the chaise, before letting out a long groan.

“That bad?” Mari chuckled as she scribbled sketched one-handedly in her design notebook. 

“You have no idea.” Chloé responded. 

Their conversation continued into mundane things, such as everyone’s patrol routes, and various theories on who Hawkmoth was. Totally normal topics for teenagers. As the day drew to a close, they made plans for everyone to come over to start packing the next day before Chloé left the bakery and headed home.

---

Come Saturday, Marinette, Chloé and Luka spent the morning playing board games one handed “to level the playing field” as Luka put it and eating lots of cookies and pastries-provided by Marinette’s parents of course. Adrien and Kagami were attending their various classes until afternoon, so the remaining three spent their time relaxing, and coming up with a list of things to pack for Mari’s stay in Gotham. Two o’ clock rolled around, and the bells over the bakery jingled to announce the arrival of the final members of the packing committee.  

Any plans to begin their assignment of somehow fitting all Marinette’s fabrics into the suitcase were cut short by an Akuma. 

They all transformed, even though Kagami and Luka has been  extremely reluctant to let Mari go even though the suit temporarily healed her injuries. Climbing through her roof hatch, they set out across the rooftops to defeat their latest villain.

---

Five hours later, the teen heroes dropped into her room, and detransformed in various flashes of multicolored lights. They collapsed onto the bed and chairs and silently agreed to just  sleep , and get the packing done the next day.

---

All of Sunday was spent throwing various clothes and accessories into Mari’s pink and black suitcase. There were several sweaters and hoodies (added by Chloé), as well as several leggings and many thick pajama pants (Sabine).

Adrien (with the help of Tom) had somehow managed to pack over ten different pun-covered t-shirts, and by the time they were discovered, they had been buried under piles upon piles of fluffy socks from Kagami. Luka also threw in some scarves before Marinette added some toiletries, her sewing kit, and her computer.

Picking up the backpack she had decided to use as a carry-on, Marinette rifled through it to make sure she had everything in there as well.

Spare change of clothes in case she loses her suitcase? Check. Phone, headphones, and charger? Check. Sketchbook and pencils? Check. Disguised Miracle Box? Check.

She turned to her family (Not her teammates, not her friends, but her family.) and smiled. It was small, and bittersweet, but it was a smile. “Alright guys, I guess I’m all set.” She said, before joining them all in a group hug. They offered her soft, tearful smiles before Tom carried her big suitcase down the stairs. 

That night, Marinette fell asleep surrounded by all the people she loved, and she couldn’t have been happier.

---

The next day, her Papa carried her downstairs and placed her into her wheelchair (since she had a broken foot, and couldn’t use her leg, they had given her a wheelchair) before wheeling her outside and placing her into the car waiting by the street. 

Her friends were all inside, and she gripped Adrien’s hand tightly as they drove to the airport. 

As she stood to board the plane, she turned back to catch one last glimpse of them all. Chloé was leaning into Kagami’s side who was holding her girlfriend’s hand tightly. Adrien was waving wildly, and Luka and her parents all raised one hand in farewell. Her Maman and Papa has some red rimming their eyes, but they smiled at her as she was wheeled into the plane. Next stop: Gotham, New Jersey.

Since her flight left Paris at 10 AM, she was set to arrive in Gotham at around 12 PM/noon. With that in mind, she decided to stay awake for the entire flight so that her body could adjust better. 

As they crossed the Atlantic, Marinette, sitting in first class thanks to Chloé and Adrien’s combined nagging; popped her earbuds in, and began to sketch. 

She stared out the window as she touched down, shocked by all the dog and darkness in the city. As she collected her bags, and wheeled her way outside to look for her host family, she couldn’t help but notice how everyone in this city was much more on edge than most normal people. ‘They act as though they are expecting an attack at any second of the day.’ She mused to herself. Her train of thought was cut off by the sight of an elderly man with a powerful aura standing next to a limo with a sign saying “Marinette Dupain-Cheng”. She wheeled her way over to him and smiled brightly. “Salut! My name is Marinette! What is yours, Monsieur!” She questioned, holding out her hand for a handshake.

“It’s lovely to meet you Miss Marinette, my name is Alfred Pennyworth.” Alfred responded, smiling gently down at her. “Now let’s get you and your bags in the car, shall we?” He reaches out to shake her hand, and the moment their fingers touched her vision was filled with dark blue and red. She laughed and smiled up at him. “It is an honor to meet you, noble Peacock.” She greeted him in the Guardian language, honoring his position as a True Holder. “And it is an honor to meet you as well, Ladybug.” He answered. She grinned and allowed him to help her into the back of the limo before he climbed into the driver's seat and they sped off to Wayne Manor. 

---

When he saw the young girl, Alfred was shocked to say the least. She was roughly 5’ 4” (162.5 cm), and was very petite. Her stature, combined with her wheelchair, wrist brace, and the cast on her leg, all strengthened his resolve to protect the young girl from any further harm. That was only intensified when their auras recognized each other. How could anyone place the responsibility of upholding balance on such a young child? 

As he drove to the Manor, she informed him that the Cat, Bee, Dragon and Snake were active on her team. Before he could ask her what the threat they were battling was, they had arrived at the Manor, and she had immediately tensed and gone silent.

Deciding that it was better to ask more questions later, he got out of the car to retrieve her bags and chair. Master Bruce and three of his children except for Master Damian were waiting in front of the doors to the Manor, and they all waited patiently for her as she exited the car. 

---

Marinette was nervous. Sure, taking to Monsieur Alfred was really fun, and she couldn’t wait to tell him more about Paris, but now she was meeting her actual host family! What if they didn’t like her? What if they decided to send her back?! Then what would she do?? A small cough interrupted her downward spiral, and she looked up from her lap to see Monsieur Alfred waiting in front of the open door with her wheelchair. Grabbing her backpack, she awkwardly maneuvered herself into the chair and allowed herself to be wheeled out in front so she could meet Monsieur Bruce Wayne.

---

Note: Alfred doesn’t know that Marinette is the Guardian. He just knows she’s a Ladybug holder.

#maribat #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #luka couffaine #kagami tsurugi #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #time drake #jason todd #dick grayson #lila rossi #alya cesaire #lila salt #class salt

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 14

~*~Sebastian~*~

After what she said about knowing my normal wasn’t accountant normal, fans, and press I had a lot of questions. I wanted to know where she'd been, what she'd seen, and what she'd done. I wanted to hear tour stories. I really wanted to hear about the after parties. I’ve been to my share, but I was an outsider. If she's spending family holidays in fucking Hawaii she is most definitely not an outsider. I want to hear what goes on when no one else is there to see.

I went back to her Instagram to buy myself some time. I wondered why now? Why didn't she show me this sooner? Pretty instantly I realized that was bullshit. What was she supposed to do whip out her phone and say, "Look who I'm friends with”? I waited to talk about my job and friends because I didn't want that stuff to be a focus. I wanted her to get to know me apart from what I do. I think her reasoning is different. She didn't want me to think she’s a stalker, but wanted me to know she knew how to handle herself and had experience with what I was struggling to explain. Like she’d said, music and acting are different, but same enough to make this easier. Whatever this is or might be.

I wanted to scroll through her Instagram for hours. I didn't want to move from this bench where my arm was around her, she was leaning against me, and she was holding my hand. I need to know what perfume she wears. It's sweet, but not cloying. Right now, it smells like "get closer and breathe me in." Her thinking it creepy to follow me on IG after one date... well, she's right. Not that I would have noticed. Still, it's the thought that counts. It’s respectful of my privacy. Not needed since IG isn't private, but again, it's the thought that counts. Not surprising. She's been nothing but thoughtful.

I had to get up and move. I didn't want to move, but I had to get up and move. It was like last night with conversation and flirting moving back and forth, in and out. It was time to walk back a little or I was going to suggest leaving here and going back to her place. It's weird when what you want to do is also what you don't want to do. Why don't I want to, you ask? Because this is too good to rush.

The little girl definitely changed the atmosphere. I took a picture I'd text to Emma later. I wasn't really focusing on the Irish dancing. I try to stay in the moment, but I was all in my head. I stood behind her, a little to the side, where I could see her and put my hand on the small of her back.

It was taking a chance asking out a girl I'd met in a grocery store. I'd like to say that every new couple has to figure out their place in the other's world and with friends. And while that's true, it's very different. Take all that normal stuff I just mentioned and tack on paparazzi, people posting things on social media, or selling stories to tabloids. Press will try to get to her, find out about her. Even worse, my fans will. They can be worse than any tabloid. They hold definite opinions on my life and three times as many opinions about my love life. I've taken a big step back from social media for those reasons and how awful fans can be to each other. That's the worst. I can ignore what they say to me and about a girlfriend, it’s part of it. But when they fight each other, bully someone who did nothing but have an opinion about me different from theirs. I hate seeing those posts

It’s hard to explain how much the outside shit can affect relationships and subtly the things I do. Be it wearing earbuds or laughing off questions about relationships. It’s not about denial, it’s about protection. Emma's relationship with Ed clears out having to explain a lot. Now it’s at most a  conversation about specifics. She already has the framework. I breathed easier when I realized there was a framework. I don't have to teach her about celebrity life. I just have to teach her about me. How I handle things. Much easier.

I think it’s cool how we're both doing the same thing. Waiting for the right time to discuss situations instead of the contrived “We need to talk." Not too much of that anyway. We're letting conversation go off on its own, following where it leads, and reigning it in when needed. So, all the questions I had were going to have to wait. She'd let me know something private, trusted me with information on her. Outside at a crowded festival wasn’t the place for questions.

This was the place for fun and making memories. I came back to the moment when Alyson's group came on stage. I don't know if they were good, but it was fun to watch. We cheered when they finished and made our way in the direction the group had headed off stage. The girls were congratulating each other and their families were mixing in. Emma caught Alyson's eye, gave her a thumbs up, and we moved on.

Carnival rides were next. There were things which went in circles, swung back and forth, dropped out of the sky, and went fast. We rode them all. We screamed and laughed so much that my throat hurt. We took a break and hit the fun house. We were holding onto each other to make it through areas with moving floors, spinning tunnels, moving staircases, and a mirror maze. The haunted house was my favorite because Emma hid her face against my chest and held on tight. I was sorry to reach the end.

We grabbed some food and kept walking. We wound up back by the dance stage. Irish dancing was replaced with line dancing. The sun was down and the stage was full. I nodded in the stage's direction, "Can you do that?"

Emma laughed, "Sometimes. You?"

I shrugged and pulled her toward the stairs, "I guess we'll see."

We danced to country, hip-hop, and everything in between. Truthfully, neither of us were very good. I imagine previous attempts had been made with alcohol, which made us think we were better than we were. It was a lot of fun. Reminded me of yoga with more laughing and cursing. Only this time we weren't being glared at by other people.

No idea how long we were out there. The music ended with an announcement that square dancing was next and would start when the band was ready. We headed off the stage with everyone else. We were both breathing heavy. For me it was part exertion, part from near constant laughter, and part my date was hot as fuck.

Hot as fuck. Beautiful. Whatever. She kept pushing her hair back when it fell in her face. Her face and eyes were filled with joy when we were successful or so confused we nearly fell over. The way she moved her body to the music had me mesmerized. Part of why I’d found it so sexy was because she wasn't trying to be. She was having fun and letting loose. As much as I enjoyed last night, this was better. Maybe better isn't the right word. Like the island jukebox, just different. Last night was words and tonight was activity.

I held her hand behind me down the stairs. It was crowded and I turned to make sure she was with me, not getting stuck behind other people leaving. Emma jumped off the last step into my arms. Her arms wrapped around my neck and I held on around her waist. Her feet hung a few inches off the ground and I swung her a few times before letting her slide down my body. Very painful. She was close and left one hand on my shoulder, the other on my chest, "This has been so much fun, Seb."

I nodded, "It has. That was exhausting. Felt like another workout."

She nodded her agreement. I held onto her waist, not quite ready to let her go yet. "You ready to get out of here? Long walk to the vehicle."

"Yeah, and we have to pick up the window and the fish."

"Mmm, can’t forget the fish. Run by the grocery and get fish food."

We started walking, hadn't gotten too far before she had a suggestion, "It’s not too late. Would you want to watch a movie? Maybe some wine?"

I smiled broadly, "I would love that. I'm not ready for the night to end."

"Me neither."

I like knowing what's next. With our closeness tonight there's no doubt we'll be cuddled together on that couch. Something in the movie or us talking will pause. A pause that's perfect for a kiss. That's all I want. Anything else is topping on the ice cream.

Fish food and wine made for an interesting grocery trip. The guy checking us out looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I glanced at his name tag, "Trust me, Chris, it makes sense." He laughed.

In Emma's kitchen she tended to the fish, now named Mycroft, while I opened the wine. She handed me a pair of glasses and pointed toward the stairs. "I'm going to run to the bathroom. Pick out whatever movie you like."

I sat our glasses on the table next to the chaise and tucked myself in the corner. I went into her favorite collection and poked around. I picked a comedy and had it pulled up when she came back, "This ok?"

"Absolutely. Have you seen it?"

"I don't think so. I love everybody. Not sure how I missed it."

I hit play as she sat down close to me. I put my arm on the couch back, giving her an invitation. She tucked her feet underneath her and tucked herself in tight next to me. I took a deep breath, taking in the moment.

The next thing I remembered was waking up who knows how much later. The movie was back on the start screen, so at least two hours. I was still stretched out on the chaise. Emma was too. She was using my shoulder as a pillow and her leg was hooked over mine. Her arm lay on my chest and my arms were around her. I shifted my shoulder a little, trying to restore feeling to my fingers, but she stirred and I froze. Her face crinkled up a little then softened. At the same time her fingers flexed against my chest then relaxed.

I think I'm a good man. A good man in an interesting situation. A better man would carry her to her room and cover her with a blanket before leaving her a note and locking the door behind him. Saving them both from an awkward morning. Definitely sparring myself from questions from my mother about where I'd stayed the night.

I am not the better man.

I'm not even the next step down guy who leaves her on the couch under a cover, writes a note, and goes home.

I'm the good man who likes what's going on here. My hands are in safe zones and will stay there. I like the feel of her body warm against mine. I don't want to leave. I don't want to write a note. I want to go back to sleep, wake up and laugh our way through an awkward morning, and make plans what we're going to do after I finish helping mom move in.

In my sleepy state I decide I will never end up kissing her.

 Next time I woke up there was a wonderful smell of coffee filling the room. I stretched my arms high and turned to look in the kitchen. Emma, in last night’s clothes, was pouring two cups. She saw me stretching, "Good morning, sleepy head."

I stood, stretching again, "How long have you been up?"

She smiled and put the cups on the breakfast bar. “I woke up a little bit ago, but was so warm and comfortable I didn't get up. You make a good pillow."

I sat on the stool, reaching for my cup, "Thank you. You were a good blanket." I watched her cheeks pink with embarrassment. I couldn't have that. "Please, tell me I didn't fall asleep first?"

Emma shrugged, "It was close."

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #fanfiction

[innaminitus]

Desires #11

Pairing: Loki x reader

Summary:  Vanaheim needs allies and since you are the eldest daughter of its king, you are a victim of arranged marriage with one of Odin’s sons - Loki.

Chapter warnings: language, angst, badly told Ragnarok

Chapter word count: 3061

Four years later

The day was beautiful. It really was. But when you forced yourself to watch this idiotic play with your husband shapeshifted into Odin next to you… You felt like smashing something.

At first you played woe. You watched your child grow up with her father pretending to be someone else. You accepted your fate. Bit your tongue when they made that ridiculous statue of Loki, but you’ve had enough of it now. You were fighting all the time. You begged him to stop, to just rule as himself, but he disagreed. The worst thing was trying to explain the situation to Marigold. She was just four, she didn’t understand most of things, let alone why her father dressed as her grandfather and why she could call him dad only when there were no other people around. And why she could never, ever mention to anyone that she sees her father. You hated him for making your situation so complicated.

The play finally ended and you could roll your eyes in peace.

“Father. Sister.” You heard a voice behind you and turned quickly to see Thor. That was it. He could help you.

“Shit…” Loki cursed silently, getting up. “My son, Thor has returned! Greetings, my boy.”

“Uncle Thor!” Marigold slid down your legs and raised her arms to him.

He laughed and lifted her up, her little hands wrapped around his neck as she hugged him tightly.

“Little person!”

“Look what I can do!” She closed her eyes and focused, wrinkling her little nose and making you laugh silently. Her blue skin started to slowly turn beige as she changed to her Aesir form. Loki taught her that.

“That’s truly amazing, Mari! You are a fast learner.” He put her back on the ground and turned to Loki. “It’s very interesting play. What it’s called?”

“The tragedy of Loki of Asgard. The people wanted to commemorate him” He stuttered.

You rolled your eyes again and Thor didn’t miss that.

“Indeed they should,” he said slowly and pointed behind him. “I like the statue. A lot better looking than he was when he was alive, though. A little less weaselly, less greasy, maybe.” He raised a big skull he chained to his back. “Do you know what this is?”

“The skull of Surtur. That’s a formidable weapon!”

Thor turned to the warrior standing behind him.

“Do me a favour. Lock this away in a vault so it doesn’t turn into a giant monster and destroy the whole planet.”

Loki clumsily leaned on the metal arch filled with roses. How could he be the God of Mischief if he couldn’t even properly lie to his brother? Well, it was better for you.

“So it’s back to Midgard for you, is it?”

“Nope.” Thor shook his head. “I’ve been having this reoccurring dream lately. Every night, I see Asgard fall into ruins.”

“That’s just a silly dreams, signs of an overactive imagination…”  

Thor raised his eyebrows and looked at you. You slowly, barely noticeable shook your head and hoped he would get what you meant. It was time for Loki to end this masquerade.

“Possibly. But then I decide to go out there and investigate. And what do I find, but the Nine Realms completely in chaos. Enemies of Asgard assembling, plotting our demise, all while you, Odin, the protector of those nine realms, are sitting here in your bathrobe, eating grapes.” Thor threw his hammer and it obediently came back to his hand seconds later.

“Yes, it’s best to respect out neighbours’ freedom.” Loki was out of track. Good.

“Yes, of course, the freedom to be massacred.”

“Yes, besides I’ve been rather busy myself-“

“Watching theatre.”

“Terrible theatre…” You murmured, watching Marigold digging out the seeds of the grape she tried to eat.

“Board meetings, and security council meetings…”

“You’re really going to make me do it?” Thor cocked his head to the side.

“Do what?”

Thor threw his hammer with unbelievable force and slowly walked behind Loki.

“You know that nothing will stop Mjolnir as it returns to my hand.” He placed his hand on the back of Loki’s head. “Not even your face.”

“Thor!” You hissed, ready to use your magic if he was to really hurt Loki. You had more hate than love relationship with him now, but he was still your husband.

“You’ve gone quite mad!” Loki shouted. Marigold dropped her grape and watched the scene with big eyes.

“Mommy?” She turned to you, worried and you lifted her to your knees.

“You’ll be executed for this!” Loki peaked at you, looking for any backing, but you weren’t going to give it to him. You just stiffly watched Mjolnir flying closer and closer.

“Then I’ll see you on the other side… brother.” The hammer was really close.

“All right, I yield!” Loki jumped at the last second and turned back to himself. Finally. He smiled at the gasps of the crowd and turned to you. “Thank you for your help, wife.”

You just raised your eyebrow.

“As if you deserved any.”

He narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to say something, but appearance of Scurge interrupted him.

“Behold!” He gasped. “Thor… Odinson…”

“No.” Loki shook his head and pointed finger at him. “You had one job. Just the one.”

“Where is Odin?” Thor asked, dragging Loki’s attention back to him.

“You couldn’t stay away, could you?” He hissed. “Everything was fine without you. Asgard was prospering. You’ve ruined everything. Ask them.” He showed at the people.

Suddenly Thor came closer to Loki, making him take a few steps back.

“Where’s father? Did you kill him?”

“You had what you wanted.” He fell on the chaise longue. “You had the independence you asked for.” Thor pressed Mjolnir onto his chest. “Alright! I know exactly where he is.”

“Mommy.” Marigold pulled your hair to make you look at her. “Can I talk about daddy now?”

“You can,” Loki answered for you.

“I can’t believe you put your child into that, brother.” Thor shook his head. “I knew you weren’t exactly caring, but this?”

You got up and shushed Loki before he could say something to make the situation worse.

“Believe me, he pays for it.” You coldly eyed your husband. “Everyday.” You reached your hand to Marigold. “Come, snowflake. Dad has some things to fix.” Your sight never left his. “And he better not be coming back before he does it.” You turned your back at the brothers, dragging your child with you back to the palace.

*

“Where the hell are you?” You asked Loki in your head, using the bond you both created shortly after he came back from the dead after the battle on Svartalfheim.

“Hell is quite a good description actually…”

You heard a weird noise in your mind, he sent a sound of fight through the bound and you stiffened.

“What’s going on?! Loki?!”

He didn’t answer long enough for you to be worried and when he finally did, his voice was filled with anger and fear.

“She came through Bifrost! Take Mari and run!”

“Who?!”

He didn’t need to answer. You heard noises of gathering army, shouts and commands before a cold voice filled the air. You could hear her through the widows of the throne room.

“It’s come to my attention that you don’t know who I am…”

You got up from the throne and run to the window. The woman outside was surrounded by the asgardian army. You swallowed hard. Who was that and why the fuck was she wearing your husband’s colours?

“I am Hela, Odin’s firstborn, the commander of the Legions of Asgard, the rightful heir to the throne and Goddess of Death.”

You were screwed. You should stay and protect the palace, but your will to survive was stronger than your loyalty. You run from the throne room and through the hallways, to the room of your daughter where she stayed with her nanny.

“What the fuck did you two do again?!” He didn’t answer you. “Loki, I swear to gods, answer me or I’ll rip your hair out.”

A second passed. And another.

“Such aggressive little thing, aren’t you?”

You grabbed Marigold and ordered the nanny to run. You didn’t bother to remember her name.

“Mommy, what’s going on?” Mari wrapped her hands around your neck. She was freezing cold when she was scared.

“It will be alright, snowflake.” You kissed the top of her head.

“You’re really going to wish you stayed dead four years ago, asshole.” A laughter sounded in your head when you run down the stairs. “And where are you? On the suburbs? In the palace?”

“Sakaar.”

You had to stop.

“Where?!”

“It’s a planet… Or a garbage disposal.”

You sent him an image of you slapping him. He sent you back and image of him between your thighs. “You better remember this, because you’re not getting any for at least a century.” You hissed and clenched your teeth.

You managed to get out of the palace just when you heard something heavy fell in the throne room. Marigold was shaking in your arms, you felt frostbites creating in places she touched you.

“Shhhh…” You lulled her, not sure where to go. “Mommy’s going to take care of it.”

“Princess,” a deep voice behind you floated you with relief. You turned to Heimdall. “Follow me.”

*

Two days passed. Two days filled with fear, threats and frostbites. You did what you could to help Heimdall gather as many Asgardians as you could, but with Marigold it was difficult. In your free time you cursed Loki, although there were times when you couldn’t not only hear him, but also feel him through your bond. It was Sakaar’s influence, the time there… wasn’t right.

But then Heimdall told you they came. Thor and some people you didn’t know.

When you reached the Bifrost there was no sign of Loki.

“Care to explain why you’re not with your brother?”

You hoped for the respond so much you almost cried. You could hate him all you wanted, but he was the love of your life and you couldn’t bear a thought of losing him.

You wrapped your arms around Marigold so tight she squirmed.

“Baby, do you remember what daddy taught you? How do you turn into an icicle?” You locked your eyes on the army of the dead and focused on keeping Marigold’s sight away. She nodded. “Can you show mommy how you do it?”  

“But you don’t like me do it…” She said, trembling in your arms. Woe was ripping you apart. You never wanted this for her.

“I love it when you do it, snowflake. I love you whole, blue or not.” You kissed her black, curly hair and shut your eyes closed for that moment. “Can you turn into icicle for me?”

She nodded again and closed her eyes for better focus. Her skin started to cover with frost, which slowly turned to ice. She was horribly cold to touch right now, but if she only managed to keep that ice armour on her, she was relatively safe.

You wanted to fight, your magic was impatiently waiting for you to use it, but you had to keep every last drop of it to protect your daughter.

“Look up.”

You almost fell on the ground when you heard his voice. You shot your head up just in time to see a spaceship emerging from a fog.

“Your saviour is here!” Loki shouted, his arms stretched as he stood on the entrance of the ship. You forced yourself not to roll your eyes, but a smile crawled on your face. He came back. “Did you miss me?” He looked for you in a crowd he just entered. “Everyone on that ship, now.”

‘Welcome home,” Heimdall said to him when they passed each other. “I saw you coming.”

“Of course you did…” Loki’s eyes found yours and he almost run to you. “My dearest…” His lips captured yours in a passionate kiss, his hand caressed your cheek. “And what a beautiful icicle do we have here?” Marigold smiled at him.

“Loki!” You quickly created a shield to protect him from the attack on his back. “As much as I don’t like it, now it’s not the time for that.”

He smirked and kissed your cheek before turning around and stabbing someone with the daggers he just summoned.

“Get on that ship or I’ll drag you there myself,” he said before joining the fights.

Even though you wanted to stand by his side like you did on Vanaheim, you had to think about your child first. If only someone could take care of her… But you didn’t trust anyone who wasn’t Loki or Thor.

And they were both busy now.

A lightning fell on the palace and Marigold screamed before hiding her crying face in the crook of your neck. You created a strong shield around you both and run to the spaceship where most of the Asgardians was already hiding.  

It took some time to clear the Bifrost of Hela’s warriors, but they eventually did it. You watched Thor and Loki talk for a second before this pretty Valkyrie girl you’ve never seen before passed them.

No, no, no.

“Come back here, you idiot! You’re not fighting that bitch!” You screamed in your head when you saw them walk in the direction of the palace.

You only felt a warmth of love he sent through the bond.

They were arguing. She was going at them and they were arguing…

But then Loki nodded and turned. You felt such relief when he run to the direction of the ship… Only to pass it.

“What are you doing?! Stop ignoring me!”

“Ragnarok.”  

You froze in place and slowly turned to see Thor fight Hela. Were they really going to destroy Asgard?

“Go! Go now!” You heard Thor say and the engines started to work.

“No!” You tugged Heimdall’s arm. “We can’t go without them!”

“It will be alright, my princess.”

You didn’t believe him. You held your daughter tighter in your arms and walked as close to the edge of the spaceship as you could.

“Mommy… Where is daddy?”

“She’s asking for you…”

“Tell her I love her.”

“Tell her yourself.”

Your heart was breaking again. You were higher and higher in the air and you still couldn’t see Loki.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“Then come back to me.”

“Don’t I always?”

You smiled sadly and almost jumped at the sudden heatwave. You shot your head in the direction of Asgard… Of flames.

You were so high up and he was there, somewhere in these flames. Your heart was beating like crazy, Marigold was shaking and you had to be strong for her. Even if it was so hard right now.

“Tremble before me, Asgard.” A giant monster grew from the fire and you covered Marigold with every bit of magic you had. Surtur was here. “I am your reckoning!”

You knew it was for the best. Hela had her powers from Asgard, but… It was your home, after all. It was the place where you fell in love, a city you learned to call yours. A sting in your heart was unbearable.

The green man… He was fighting the wolf before you got on the bridge when protecting the back of your people. He grabbed Thor and the girl, and jumped high to reach the ship.

Your heart stopped pumping blood and instead was pumping rage.

Did they just really left Loki down there or was it just your twisted imagination?!

“Loki?!”

Nothing.

You couldn’t look, so you turned your gaze away. You could hear everything, though. The sound of breaking planet, of fire consuming every bit of your home.

“I love you, too.”

*

You were far in space now, surrounded by the darkness and stars. Marigold fell asleep after melting her ice armour and your body started to heal the frostbites.

You sat on the floor with a bottle of something strong, watching your fingers defrost.

A pair of leather shoes entered your view.

“I hate you,” you sobbed and raised your head. “I hate you for doing this to me. Over and over.” Tears flew down your cheeks and Loki slowly squatted next to you. He tried to wipe the tears away from your face, but you moved away. “Don’t touch me.”

He sighed. “I had to-“

“You had to? You had to cut me out? To ignore me for all these hours?”

He sat next to you.

“You’re right… I’m sorry.”

“Your apologies became inauthentic around three years ago.” You couldn’t force yourself to look at him. “When will you finally understand that you’re not on your own? We are a family, Loki. You can’t put yourself to such risk. Everything you do affects us all, whether we want it or not.” You took a deep breath and faced him. He was so… beautiful. Tired, yes, but this raw beauty of his face made you want to hug him and never let go. “Your daughter knew her father only at nights. Did you think about it?” You shook your head. “She asked me once if you don’t like her and if that’s why you shapeshift, so she couldn’t call you daddy.” You saw sadness in his face. “I wasn’t ready for this baby and you knew it. And yet you left me alone with it, right after you promised to be by my side. And what for? For poor theatre and grotesque statue.” You took a sharp breath. “I obeyed you for all these years, but I can’t do it any longer if you keep putting me off.” He opened his mouth to say something, but you didn’t let him. “I think you need to sort out your priorities. And when you do… Let me know if me or our daughter are on the first place. Or is it the throne, power or tesseract.” You got up and fixed your dress. “Because if it is so, I’ll ask you for divorce.”

“Y/N-“ He got up, but you just shook your head.

“It’s too late now.” He looked as if he was going to cry, but you were so tired of always being the last. “You’ve underestimated me for the last time.”

___

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#loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki #loki imagine #tom hiddleston #avengers #marvel

[miss-pearlescent]

Smoke in Her Veins (M)

magic, mild fighting, mild angst, max fluffy smut (✧ᴗ✧✿)

I liked being the bait.

It was fun to play the dumb victim role and then turn around to bite the attacker in the neck. Nobody assumed that a woman wearing nothing but a tube top and slinky mini skirt would be dangerous.

But they didn’t know that I had magic on my side.

The man behind me, my target for the night, danced his hands down my waist as the music beat loudly through the club. The navy velvet of his shirt tickled my shoulders as he leaned in. “What’s your name, sweet thing?”

I turned to him, biting my lip in a tease. “No names tonight,” I said over the bass as I wound my arms around his neck. “Let’s just have a good time.”

His breath smelled like smoke and alcohol when he chuckled. Perfect. “Oh, baby girl, I know exactly where we can have a good time.” The man’s grey eyes swirled as he detangled my arms and pulled me through the crowd.

Adrenaline raced up my veins as I clutched the small necklace around my neck, my beacon of safety. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my partner in crime, the one I could count on if anything went awry.

He was the reason I was brave enough to do any of this.

And he was currently lounging on a chaise in the corner, two women draped over his lap.

I tamped down the flicker of jealousy and pulled my attention back to my target, the man who tugged at my wrist through a door and down a dark hallway.

I sure hoped Kai knew I was back here.

With a mental scoff, I focused on my mission. Of course he knew I was back here. Kai always had eyes everywhere. We had a plan set out and everything was falling into place.

Step one: seduce the smoke demon into a private space.

Two: provoke him into an attack.

Three: suck out all his smoke.

Four: celebrate the victory by going to McDonald’s and making Kai pay for my meal because it was my first solo mission.

I was pulled into a dark room and the door shut behind me a second before I was pushed back against it.

The man—or should I say demon—let out a smokey breath, nearly making me cough my lungs out. His mouth mashed into mine as he gripped my neck. Great, so he was into both chemical and physical asphyxiation.

I roamed my hands along his chest, carefully feeling for any weapons that he might have on his person. None.

Demons didn’t usually need human weapons, but you could never be too sure.

Then I brought my leg up to run along his hips, checking his pockets even as he stuck his whole hand under my top and palmed my breast.

I fought the urge to punch him.

Yeah, I needed to provoke this demon into a fight, but I wasn’t going to do it unless I was sure I had a chance of winning.

He tried to hike up my other leg but I pulled away. “How about you let me take the lead, big boy?” I trailed a finger down the front of his shirt, all the way to the fly of his tight pants where I could see a bulge trying to push free.

He grabbed my wrist and pushed it back against the wall. The grip he had on my neck tightened. “How about no?” he whispered, trailing a wet tongue along my jaw. “I want to have my fun with a human before I rip your limbs from your body.”

I paused. Wait a damn minute.

The next second, my necklace was ripped off me and crushed under his boot.

I tried not to flinch.

The demon smirked. “How are you going to call for help now, pretty human? Who is going to hear your screams as I break every bone in your body?”

I glared up at him, way too pissed off about my necklace than about my safety. It was a pretty gold necklace that Kai had given me when I first started training with him. He said it was a lifeline, that I could use it whenever I needed help. I remember being delighted that it went well with almost all of my outfits.

It was practical and fashionable.

“I’d like to see you try,” I bit back, hoping he would use his smoke breath so I could suck it out and drain him of all life.

That was my secret weapon.

But my knee was also another weapon.

I brought it up and shoved it up his nuts.

-

Kai pulled on his jacket and waited on a low rooftop beside the nightclub. It was a spot where he could see the small basement window of the room that the smoke demon had pulled Nara into.

The room was dark and the window was full of grime, but if any furniture went flying through the window, he’d know to step in.

He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes had passed since he had seen the smoke demon leave the dance floor with Nara. Fifteen minute since he himself had left the nightclub and set up post on a rooftop.

He had promised her an hour before he would bust in and pull her out of there. She said she could handle a level five demon alone, but he still worried about her.

Nara had been training with him for six months and often outsmarted the demons as if she were playing a game. It helped her excel faster than anyone he’d ever seen, yet he was still worried.

He was still human and so was she.

Kai crouched down, preparing a small fireball in his palm, and checked his watch again. The red light indicating the help signal didn’t flash, so he guessed she was doing fine by herself.

He didn’t know why he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something bad could happen. He had seen her expertly seduce the smoke demon to do her bidding, getting them a private room so she could lay out her attack. Kai had his senses honed to her every move, noticing the way she touched and spoke to the demon into submission.

Kai scrubbed a hand down his face, trying to shake the image of her grinding her ass against the demon. Nara was his mission partner, somebody he needed to keep out of his spank bank.

Only his subconscious knew how many mental images he really had of her.

And then all of a sudden she was in view, climbing out of the small window.

Topless.

Acting on pure instinct, Kai jumped down from the roof, stepping from balcony to balcony.

Nara stood there, arms crossed over her chest as she looked both ways down the street and then up at him. All her earlier confidence was gone. There was only uncertainty in her eyes.

And some sort of defiance.

He had a million questions when he reached her. “What did he do to you?” he threw out.

“Nothing,” she snapped back. He didn’t miss the little shiver even as she scowled and looked away. “I killed him. It’s done.”

Kai pressed his lips together as he pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. He tucked it around her neck and was glad to see her visibly relax under it. “You sure he’s dead?”

She cast him a glare and he could see the grey swirling in her eyes. It was a tell-tale sign that she had absorbed the life of another being when her black eyes changed to the colour of her victims’. “I told you I killed him. Now can we leave?”

She didn’t look like she was in the mood to trek in her high heels and a jacket that swamped her from neck to knees. Kai sighed and picked her up.

“I can walk,” she said, but without much gusto. She even leaned her head against his shoulder.

The small but tender action made Kai stiffen. Shit. Something had definitely happened in there, and he wanted to know what.

But first he needed to cheer her up.

“McDonald’s?” he offered.

She shook her head.

He hopped onto the roof of a car and then onto a balcony so he could reach the rooftops where he could easily take her anywhere she wanted. “Your place?” he asked.

She shook her head again.

Kai began walking in the direction of his home. The last time he had brought her over was Valentine’s Day when they both joked about being miserably single and got drunk on chicken and beer.

Things got awkward when they had woken up the next day on his bed, half naked and tangled up in each other.

They hadn’t done anything, at least nothing he remembered, and they both agreed they were better off being just friends lest the missions get compromised.

They were paired together to slay demons, not make babies.

But fuck that.

Kai needed to take care of his partner or else they would never be able to run a mission ever again.

“My place?” he murmured.

He felt her nod as her eyelids fell.

-

I woke up with a raging headache and a hacking cough. I sat up, leaning over the edge of the bed to cough my guts out. I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath. Like my lungs were on fire.

The fire spread and my eyes began tearing up before I started to dry heave. A hand pulled my hair back from my face and I groaned at the knowledge that somebody was here to see me like this.

“Breathe,” a low whisper came at my ear.

I squeezed my eyes shut and took a slow breath. Of course it had to be Kai who saw me like this. I remembered last night when I ceremoniously crawled out of a cobwebbed window and flashed my boobs to the world, waiting for my one-man pickup ride to show up.

And that was after I had almost died.

I doubled over and went into another coughing fit.

Maybe dying would’ve been better than this.

When I finally came up for air, a glass of water was put into my hands.

“Drink,” Kai commanded.

I shook my head. “It’s okay.” I took a few deep breaths. “I just...I just need to rest a little.”

Kai lifted the water to my lips and made me take a sip. I didn’t admit to him that it felt like heaven running down my burning throat. .”You’ve been resting for three straight days.”

I opened my eyes and blinked up at him, noticing that he looked more disheveled than I had ever seen him.

His hair stood up in funny angles and his white shirt was so wrinkled, it looked like he had took a tumble in it.

Or maybe just slept in it.

Anyway, he looked even hotter than usual. Unfair, considering how bad I probably looked hacking my lungs out.

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to keep from coughing on his beautiful face. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Stay awake, Nara. You’ve been unconscious for three days.” He leaned against the headboard and pulled me against his chest. I almost laughed because how was I supposed to stay awake when he was making me more comfortable? “What happened after the smoke demon took you to the room?”

I buried my nose into his shirt and inhaled, enjoying the way his scent seemed to suppress the urge to cough. “I killed him.”

Kai shook me. “Nara,” he growled.

I pouted and looked up. “I made out with him and then I killed him. Better?”

He gave me a hard look. “What happened to your necklace?” His voice was gentle despite the frustration in his eyes.

I reached a hand up to my neck where it was empty. “The demon seemed to know who I was. He broke it.”

Kai let out a curse and I felt his grip tighten.

“It’s okay. You can grab me another one, right?” Another coughing fit ran through me and Kai held me up, rubbing my back until I finished.

“I wouldn’t have let you die,” he said as he pressed the glass of water into my hands again.

I took a deep gulp even as his words ran through my head.

I felt the knot build up in my throat because I couldn’t deny what had happened that night.

I enjoyed being the bait only because I knew I had Kai behind me, watching my back and ensuring my safety. There was a moment that night when I had been pinned down, my arms and legs twisted in a painful direction and I thought I was actually going to die.

My necklace had been sitting beside me on the ground, crushed into a million pieces. There had been no way to call for Kai’s help. I was alone.

I chugged the water even as I felt tears pricking my eyes.

It was only luck that the demon decided to use his smoke at that moment. I still had enough energy to suck his powers into me.

But it was the most difficult demon yet. He was strong, and draining him had drained me.

I handed the glass back to Kai and noticed the veins on my hands. They were black. “Has it really been three days?”

He nodded and watched me.

I was so tired.

And for once, so scared.

I thought I had been doing so well. I was more and more in control of my power. I thought I could take on this demon by myself.

But I also stared death in the face.

I closed my eyes but Kai shook me again.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

I winced as my lungs seemed to flare up again. “I just need a little nap.” A nap would numb me from this pain.

“Nara,” he said, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “Open your eyes.”

I opened them and watched the black of my veins fade.

“The smoke from the demon is poisoning you.”

“My body will process it in time,” I argue back.

“It’s been three days and I have watched it spread.”

I knew he was right. Damn him for always being right.

But that was why I had chosen him as a training partner.

He pressed his lips to my wrist and the smoke in my veins seemed to clear just from the touch.

“No.” I knew what he was doing and tried to pull away. “You can’t take in the smoke or else you’ll get sick too.”

Kai held my wrist tightly, rubbing circles with his thumb along my palm. “You think I can’t handle this?”

His mouth grazed up my arm, tickling me.

I was wearing a baggy t-shirt of his, and he pushed the sleeve up as he kissed my shoulder. “You think a man who can control fire can’t handle a little smoke?”

I squirmed when he reached my neck, unsure if it was ticklish or turning me on.

I shouldn’t be turned on.

He was just trying to help me heal. That was all. Nothing special.

He sucked on a sensitive spot on my neck and I bit back a gasp. Pulling away, he murmured, “Sorry, there are pulse points where the smoke is more concentrated.”

“I-it’s okay,” I stammered.

“Give me your other arm.”

-

Kai wished he could do this all day as he massaged a spot under Nara’s arm and sucked on her delicate skin.

He could hear the little quiver in her voice. “You don’t need to be so thorough. It’s dirty there. I can still take a little bit of leftover smoke.”

“Mm.” Kai couldn’t help but linger there a bit longer, enjoying the way she squirmed, enjoying the musk of her scent. When he reached the sleeve, he pulled away and tugged at the hem of her shirt.

She was only wearing panties and he didn’t know how much she was willing to let him see.

Nara cleared her throat and he could see her expression straining as she still felt the pain in her lungs. Kai knew he still had a lot of work to do.

“May I?” he asked, giving her shirt another tug. He needed to get to where smoke gathered the most.

At her nod, he gently set her down so she was sitting comfortably against the headboard. He crawled in between her legs and folded the hem of the shirt up to the bottom of her breasts. Holding her hips, he leaned in and kissed her belly button, ignoring the image of her thin pink panties.

He had already seen it two nights ago when he had brought her home and changed her into comfortable clothing. But seeing her panties like this, with her legs spread open for him...

Kai stopped himself and concentrated on absorbing the poisonous smoke from her skin. He could feel it building up in him, but instead of making him feel sick, it seemed to stoke the fire in him.

But this was for her, not him. Nara needed to get better so they would fight demons again.

He felt her stomach flex on a quick breath as he pressed his lips to a spot on her rib.

That was it, there were no more black veins on her stomach. But he knew they had crept under the shirt.

Kai rubbed his fingers along her sides. “How are you feeling?” he asked, looking up.

He instantly regretted it because he lost all sense when he looked up. Nara’s face was flushed and her lips were plush and parted.

She was as turned on as he was.

He looked away to collect his thoughts, but then he noticed the small wet spot in the centre of her panties, and he swore he saw her pussy convulse.

“Nara,” his voice was guttural, almost unrecognizable.

She pushed his hands under her shirt, pressing them against her hard nipples. “I need more,” she panted.

That was all Kai needed before he shoved her shirt up and reveled in the look of her round breasts. They were perfect, except for the fact they were streaked with black poison.

It reminded him he still had a job to do.

He leaned in and suckled one pointed nipple into his mouth. He ignored Nara’s little yelp as he kept the suction going hard and steady.

The poison was more concentrated here than her neck or arms. He needed to have a firm hand.

He flicked her nipple back and forth with his tongue, pushing the smoke out and releasing it into his mouth where he could absorb it. He drank it all in, enjoying the way Nara’s fingers threaded through his hair as if she were commending him for doing a good job.

And he was going to make sure he did a good job.

Kai let go of the nipple with a pop, and he grinned at the fact that it was no long black, but a dusky rose, reddened by his lips.

He turned to the other breast, ready to repeat himself, but stopped.

There was barely anything there compared to the first breast.

Maybe it needed a bit of coaxing. He played with the nipple with his finger, squeezing and plucking until it puckered up.

Nara panted above him. “What’s happening?” she asked.

Kai shook his head as he gently squeezed the breast. “I don’t know. The black was here a minute ago, but now it’s gone. I don’t know where it went.”

“Maybe you got it all.”

Kai suspected otherwise. He put his mouth to her nipple and sucked on it softly. He could still taste the smoke and he knew it was still somewhere in her body.

He tongued the little point, hoping it would release something.

“Oh, Kai...” Nara’s fingers scratched against his back as she arched up against him.

“Almost done,” he muttered against her skin.

He needed to think, but it was hard when there was a beautiful woman writhing underneath him. The poison liked to travel to places where blood flow was strong, like her carotid pulse and lymph nodes. It liked to avoid him by hiding where he couldn’t get it, like at her breast underneath her shirt.

He looked down as Nara wrapped her legs around him.

The musky scent of her wetness was a distraction.

That was it.

Kai leaned in and pressed his mouth to the centre of her panties without thinking, to the spot where it was damp and her folds were outlined in the fabric.

The black poison seemed to jump out the hem of her panties and then go back to hiding.

Jackpot.

“K-Kai? Did you get it?” Nara asked, completely breathless.

His lips kicked up in a triumphant grin as he tugged at her panties. “Just a little more, Nara.”

She placed a hand on his and stopped him. “Then what?”

He stopped, blinking. Then what?

Her brows creased in frustration. “You’ve almost sucked me dry. I feel empty.” She pressed his hand down until his knuckle ran along the wetness of her crease.

Kai raised a brow and smirked. “And what do you want me to do about it?”

Her gaze flickered to the fly of his pants, where he knew he was hard as a rock.

He pulled at her panties, satisfied in how soaked it was. “You want me to fill you up, Nara?”

She nodded eagerly and he rewarded her by slipping a finger into her folds.

Her breath caught and she let out a long moan.

“I have a job to do first, Nara,” he teased as he stroked his finger in and out, watching the black smoke gather around the centre. “I need to get this poison out of you.”

He added a second finger and watched her eyes roll back behind her head. “Can I do that?” he whispered as he curled his fingers, pressing up against a sensitive spot inside her warm centre. “Can I do that before I fuck you?”

“Yes,” she panted as she raised her hips to his grip. “Please, Kai!”

He let out a satisfied chuckled before he set his lips to her straining clit, covering it and setting a soft, rhythmic suckle.

She bucked.

Kai gripped her hips so she wouldn’t fly off the bed. He felt her walls squeezing around his fingers and knew the poison was leaving her.

He flicked his tongue against the side of her sensitive little bud, loving the taste of her mingling with the smoke in the back of his throat. She writhed underneath him, her juices running down his hands and her soft thighs squeezing him in to take it all.

He peeked one eye open and saw that there was no longer any black running along her skin. He had absorbed all the energy and now he was revved up.

Kai reared back, pulling his fingers out of her weeping core.

Nara cried out at the loss.

He leaned over her, undoing his pants until his cock was finally free. It wept for her as she set a bold hand on it and ran it along her slit.

“Take me hard,” she begged. “I need you to fill me up.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

He pushed his hips forward, pressing into the warmth of her. “Fuck,” he ground out. She was so tight.

He leaned on his elbow and reached a hand down to tease her clit.

“Good girl,” he said as he slid deeper. He kissed away the whimper on her lips as she wrapped her legs around his hips. “You’ve got me. I’m here.”

It didn’t matter if she had the necklace or not. He would always be there for her.

Kai felt her walls contracting around him as he hit the deep centre. He stopped to let her adjust, stroking her hair, kissing her breasts, playing with her clit.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she shook as an orgasm washed over her.

He chuckled. “That’s it,” he whispered, taking her nipple into his mouth like he did earlier. He pumped his hips, slowly gaining speed.

Nara gripped the bed sheets and rocked her hips to match him. “Faster,” she pleaded.

“If you say so,” he said playfully.

He had so much energy pent up, he needed release. Fast.

He sat up, holding Nara’s hips in the air so he could control the speed himself.

And then he fucked her the way he had imagined for so many nights.

Her cries filled the room.

Kai watched as Nara’s body arched up with every orgasm, felt her juices running down both their legs, and still did not let up. He plunged his hips with all his might and pulled her in with his arms, making sure she felt every thrust.

He was getting himself close too, but he needed something else. Something even more intimate than this crazed fucking.

He pitched forward, wrapping her legs back around him, and leaned in until their noses were almost touching.

“Look at me, Nara,” he snarled.

He felt like an animal as he rutted her. He couldn’t control himself.

She opened her eyes despite her nonstop orgasms. “Kai,” she said between gulps of air. “I’m going to come again. You’re going to make me—” She pulled him down and smothered her moan with his lips.

Her fingers clawed at him wildly, making him feel feral.

He pinned her down and pushed through her tightness, needing these last few thrusts to bring himself over the edge.

He pulled out the moment he spilled.

She squealed at the loss of him, grinding herself along his length to ride out both their orgasms.

Suddenly, his limbs felt like jello. Rolling to the side, he pulled Nara with him, unwilling to break the kiss.

She was still shaking as she adjusted herself on his chest.

They both caught their breaths, staring up at the ceiling. Kai found that his fingers wouldn’t stop running back and forth along her skin, loving the warm feel of it.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Nara spoke first. “I like this post-victory activity.”

He chuckled, kissing the top of her head. “Better than McDonald’s.”

---

Hello all :) I know it has been like 4-5 months since I’ve posted, but I’ve recently read many books in a row and was inspired once again! This oneshot, however, was triggered by a reread of a hentai manga from an author/artist that I really like LOOOOOL Specifically, chapter 6 of KOI+KAN by Kikurage :) Yes, I am here on Tumblr dot com giving hentai recommendations. Anyway, thank you for reading and please give it a like if you enjoyed it!

#kai #exo #jongin #fanfiction #kpop #kpop fanfiction #exo fanfiction #kai fanfiction #oneshot #smut

[sucaritra]

Bāṛi - Chapter 14

Word Count: 1766

Warnings: language, anxiety, Negan

Summary: what the hell was that bang?

A/N: we’ve finally moved and slowly getting settled in so updates shouldnt take so long now. also, it’d be nice to hear from some of you cause i tend not to get comments on here, let me know how im doing or youre still reading xo

Masterlist

“James is out there. You think he's caught up in that?” you’re very aware of the increased thudding of your heart as your eyes refuse to stray from the thick plume of smoke in the distance.

As soon as Negan was positive that there was no immediate threat or danger, he’d left the boudoir with nothing more than an order to all the wives and yourself to stay put. You barely registered his exit as your mind turned a million miles a minute trying to come up with a plausible motive behind the explosion.

“He's a survivor, I’m sure he's fine,” Kira’s words did little to calm your nerves, though her comforting hand on your shoulder was a nice touch. “Besides, even if he is caught up in that, you never know, he might’ve been the one to set it to distract some walkers or some other threat. You never know.”

You didn't think of that. It was a tactic you’d used yourself in the past whenever you had found yourself trapped by the dead with no escape. Sure, you’d never caused massive explosions to distract the rotting hordes, but you didn't have the supplies that the Sanctuary and it’s Saviors had. Maybe this was a particularly large horde that needed maneuvering away from the Sanctuary?

“That's not a bad idea, but it is wrong.”

The sudden, distinctly male voice in the room full of women was enough to bring your guard up and immediately tear your gaze away from the window, only to land on Mason. He smiles warmly at you before his attention is drawn back to a slightly offended Kira.

“And how do you know that? Hmm?”

Mason slowly makes his way towards you as he replies, “because, he and the rest of his crew have no business being anywhere near whatever the hell that was.” Once he was standing in front of you, Mason turned you back around to face the window, reaching around you and pointing in the opposite direction of the fiery mess. “There. That's where they went scavenging. I organised their route myself. They're nowhere near it.”

The relieved sigh that escaped your lips caused Mason to squeeze your arm in reassurance as you smiled up at him, wholly grateful towards him for lifting the suffocating weight from your shoulders.

“Not that it’s not nice to see you, but what are you doing up here?”

“Negan sent me up here to watch over you ladies, make sure nothing big goes down.”

“You mean bigger than a giant explosion that rocks the entire building and can be seen for miles?” you can't help but raise your eyebrow at him, slightly incredulous.

Huffing out a laugh as he shakes his head, Mason concedes your point, “alright, little Miss Snark, what do you ladies do to pass the time around here?”

You shrug your shoulders, not bothering to tell him that this was your first time in here, before turning towards the closest wife, who just so happened to be Tanya.

“Well, usually we've got Negan to bounce on to pass the time, but that probably won't work now.”

“No, probably not.” You couldn't help but grimace slightly at that lovely image in your head now.

“Uhm… I think we've got some cards around here somewhere?”

With Mason watching his girls, Negan could direct all of his attention on the fucking shitshow that decided to interrupt his dinner. He stood out on the balcony of the first floor, giving his Saviors time to gather in the games room down on the ground floor. No matter where he turned his head, the opaque column of smoke always lingered in his peripheral, seemingly a constant in the scenery surrounding the Sanctuary,

Negan’s gloved hand clenched around Lucille at the sound of heavy footsteps coming up behind him, only to relax seconds later as he recognised Simon’s gait.

“Everyone’s ready boss.”

With one last long look at the blemish in the distance, Negan turned on his heel and made his way inside to address his people.

The plan was simple, they’d done this many times before. The explosion was a clear sign of survivors, how many, he didn't know. As with the discovery of survivors in the past, Negan will send out a group of Saviors to locate the group and “recruit” them to join the network of employees providing for the Sanctuary. If there are refusals to bend the knee, then some sorry fucker’s brain matter painting the ground should do the trick. If the stupid fucks still refuse, well, then Negan gets to have his fun.

Once the crews chosen to venture out and hunt down the culprits of the eyesore had been briefed and sent on their way, Negan decided to head back upstairs where he can wait for news on the expedition in the comfort of his wives.

And future wife.

Entering the boudoir, Negan spots his wives, minus Sherry and Amber, sat around a table with Mason playing cards. You watch as he searches the room for the other two wives, quickly taking notice of them through the open bedroom door before his sight finally lands on you lazing on the chaise lounge. You scooch over and make room for him as he makes his way towards you and drops down next to you with a heavy sigh.

You know it’s going to be a long night for your leader, so you sit in comfortable silence, leaning ever so slightly against his arm and watch the highly competitive game of Go Fish taking place in front of you.

“Last we heard from ‘em was four hours ago.”

“They would've been close to the source back then. No communication for four hours is not a good sign.”

“Well, shit, Einstein, ya fucking think?!”

Negan’s smartass retort to Fat Joey was enough to rouse you from your sleep, though you kept your eyes closed as you registered Simon getting the discussion back on track.

“We’ve probably got another Alexandria situation, thinking they can kill us off and it’ll all be fine and dandy.”

“If that's the case, then another big show should put things right.” You weren't sure exactly what ‘big show’ Mason was referencing, though you could guess it would be something you'd rather be ignorant of.

“Taking that many men would leave the Sanctuary vulnerable. Luke’s crew are most likely walker chow at this point and taking the amount of men you're suggesting will leave this place virtually defenceless.” the obvious challenge in Simon’s voice would've been enough to show the shock on your face if you weren't being a sneaky little eavesdropper right then.

“I’ll stay behind. If so much as a scratch befalls the Sanctuary then Negan can take it out on me. Hell, he can demote me if he wants but nothing’s gonna happen. All of the communities are, for once, in line. And it’s not like we haven't left the Sanctuary like this before, we always come back to her. You need to relax Simon, the stress is showing on that pushbroom you call a ‘stache.”

“Alright, ladies, put the claws away. These pyro-fucking-maniacs clearly need to be shown who the big dicks are around these parts. Mason, you're in charge while we're gone. I want updates at the top of every hour through the long range talkies. I couldn't give two shits about anyone below this floor, but if I hear there was anyone up here that shouldn't be? Well, getting demoted will be the least of your fucking worries.”

The clear threat brought goosebumps to your skin. Through his charming grins and carefree attitude, it’s easy to forget the brutality that's contained within Negan, the savagery which establishes Negan’s position as leader of the Saviors.

“Right, get the fuck out of here. We leave in twenty.” waiting until the door was closed behind his men, you're slightly mortified to find Negan addressing you, running a gentle hand over your hair, “So, what should I do with sneaky little eavesdroppers?”

Opening your eyes, you find that you're still on the lounge, though now you're leaning heavily on Negan’s arm where you undoubtedly fell asleep. Feeling somewhat chastened, you smile sheepishly and mumbled an apology as you lift yourself off of him.

Negan’s signature smile tells you that there are no hard feelings, though you feel your heart drop to your stomach when his heartbreaking smile is quick to vanish, replaced by a more serious expression. Reaching for your hand, he gives it a light squeeze as he looks you straight in the eyes.

“You still have that knife I gave you?” at your nod, he asks, “you got it on you?”

“I left it in my backpack, I didn't think I’d be allow to carry it.”

“As soon as you get a chance, you're gonna go get it and come straight back up here. Don't let anyone see that you've got it.”

“I don't understand. You think something will happen while you're gone?” You figured Simon was just being paranoid, making sure all bases were covered, but Negan was really starting to scare you.

“No. But I’m not willing to take that chance. I wouldn't be where I am today if I disregarded shit like that.”

“Okay, I’ll be careful.” You watched him carefully as he relaxed at your words, before softly uttering, “Come back soon, yeah? This place feels a lot safer with you here, surprisingly, and you've got me all paranoid now.”

“Baby girl, I’ll be back before you fucking know it. I've still gotta make you mine.” There's that killer smile of his that manages to bring heat to your cheeks and make you try your hardest, and fail, to not smile back.

“If you had mentioned how good the food was up here back when you first proposed, you might be speaking to wife number six right now rather than just your secretary.”

“Oh, sweet girl, you're not just anything. You are so much fucking more.”

Before he could elaborate any further, a voice crackling through the walkie signaled that it was time for Negan and his men to leave.

After taking in your features for a few seconds more, Negan rose from his seat, grabbing his jacket and Lucille.

You watched in slight awe as he wore his cocksure leader personality in tandem with his jacket, gripping Lucille tight and heading for the door.

Throwing one last cheeky wink your way, you watched Negan leave to unquestionably bash in a couple of skulls, recruiting more worker bees in the process.

tagging: @neganisking @backseat-negan @jdms-network

#negan #negan x reader #negan fanfiction #negan x you #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #JDM #twd fanfiction #jdm fanfiction

[captusmomentum]

Excessively detailed asks: 1-19 odds only for Inan, 20-38 evens only for Tace plz :D

fuck me running this is a lot OKAY HERE WE GOOOOOO

INANALLAS

(heads up the pronouns are gonna jump around here bc inan uses they//them and she/her so hopefully doesn’t get too confusing rip)

1. What does their bedroom look like?

Surprisingly Clean. They’re exactly the type you’d expect to be super messy but thanks to living in such small spaces like aravals all their life they’re very good about keeping things in come kind of order. This stands even for modern verses, they’re very good about it. In verses they’re inquisitor they actually rearrange the room a lot, putting their bed on the balcony and making the main floor more of an office/living room as well as creating panels to help block out some of that sun bc HOLY SHIT WINDOWS, they also have a panel set to block the view of the bed which is really just wedged between it and the railing. The little bed alcove is very cozy and the main floor is much more functional and better for have friends up :D In modern aus, like say amd, they’re one of those people who’re like ‘ live in an apartment that’s only 90ft big :D’ and when they show you how it’s like part science miracle and part acrobatics bonanza. Like look at any tiny home or tiny apartment type show/place/thing and thats’ how they Roll. Mainly bc they’re fucking Broke AF, creative/innovative and well trained by dalish life for it. So bedrooms are usually like, lofts and shit like that which can mean it’s not much more than the essentials of Snoozing. 

3. Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?They do! Inan works out pm everyday in pm every verse. Their style of magic is very, very very physical so it requires a lot of working out and training even in verses where they’re not constantly murdering ppl like canon ones they gotta get diesel for magic. In most verses they primarily do a variety of martial arts (or just one elf/dalish one? depends on how deep into worldbuilding you wanna get here honestly) and then things like running, weight lifting general kinda fitness exercise things. I imagine in modern verses and such (maybe more canon ones too tf do i know) that places like Arlathvhen’s there’s like, a sort of pow wow/olympics type event that goes on and clans have people representing them and Lath was disqualified for cheating bc she’s Weak in the temptation of Victory so Inan is the Obligatory Contender in at least some of the mage events, usually like, dueling bc it’s ironically her specialty. So she really does have to stay sharp when in verses where there’s no fighting bc she’s gotta bring home gold for clan Lavellan. 

(if u wanna get a sense of how inan fights it’s a LOT like pm anyone from avatar the last airbender/Legend of Korra especially Korra and Katara(atla) )(apologies about the katara vid and that shit music there’s So Little out there sobs)5. Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

Inan isn’t the most organized or together person which is combined w/ their dalish upbringing is why they’re Hyper Organized. Things have places and they go there ALWAYS otherwise they’ll never be found again ever. Also lots of labels. Their own living spaces are more organized than their work spaces, generally bc other ppl touch things or put things on their desk. Every time someone touches their things they have a small heart attack bc it means that something CRITICAL might have been moved and will never be found again. Seriously they are held together only by the power of their aesthetically pleasing organization and labeling. So school is Really Fun in modern aus (read: i’ve considered having them be a high school dropout for Various Reasons).7. Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

They Dream of wasting time. They Long to waste time. Everyday they pray they can waste time. Usually a lot of her time goes into things like Clan Stuff, Magic Stuff and Work Stuff so any chance they get to dick off they do. They fave method in modern verses is tv or youtube but in canon-y verses its Tavern w/ Bull or Tavern w/ Sera, the 2 people most likely 2 not call her out for Ditching Shit. Drinking w/ Dorian and/or Varric is very high on the list in all verses.9.Makeup?

Naaaahhhhhhhhhh. Generally too lazy for it and doesn’t like feeling of it on her face. Also it’s a real Bitch bc she’s always got tats on like 70-90% of her face and freckles (which she actually likes) so like foundation’s a Nah but you can’t do things like cover her dark circles w/o foundation otherwise the difference is Too Obvious like it’s just a Disaster. She can be convinced to wear it at special events and things but someone else has gotta do it. 

11. Intellectual pursuits?Some and very disorganized. Generally answering any Burning Mystical Questions they have regardless of worth or importance, debating (fighting) about topics involving analysis in books and things, Fade Stuff, Learning Elvhen. They don’t really actively pursue a lot of things bc they’re doing so much shit normally, they really only pursue it when the interest strikes. Also, proving that the occult is Real and Valid.13.Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?hoooooooooo boy dksjlgjfdsgfk, pansexual demisexual/grey-asexual is probably the best description. they don’t know they just like people and they don’t think about it they don’t think about Sex Stuff or ppls orientations it’s all W/E IDK and while they’re not prudish or squeamish about it they will run screaming for the hills things get too raunchy. Sex –especially sex involving them– has them looking for the nearest exit, not necessarily bc they’re sex repulsed but they are Extremely Anxious and Scared of interpersonal interaction so kissing is yiKESSSSSSSSSSSSS15.Biggest and smallest short term goal?Hmmmmm that’s really hard. Biggest is usually like: Not Die. Smallest is something like: whatever is next on to do list. They live a life of unnecessary extremes. 17.Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dressGoth mori/strega fashion vibes. Lots of skirts and layers and looking very much like a peasant wizard. Usually they just dress for the weather and put on as many layers as they can to feel safe and protected (and snuggly). There’s a lot of similarities in their logic about it with Uthvir but with miles of soft fabrics instead of spikes. Usually darker colors with an emphasis on blues. There’s not too much in the way of ritual around it since they’ve tailored their wardrobe so they can grab things put them on, and look good w/o any real effort.

 here’s the for inan fashion stuff 

19.What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

Usually they go through a very specific ritual when going to sleep since they’re a dreamer to help keep that shit on lock which involves a lot of emptying of the mind and relaxing and preparing to deal with Fade Shit. If they don’t it’s just existential dread, anxiety and depression shit and panic. So they don’t not do the thing…….

TACE

20.Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?Tace wasn’t really sick much more than the normal amount and kinds as a kid and was the kind who conks out the whole time and doesn’t say, try to get up and play. As he got older and his dreamer abilities started to kick in he reacted to it like someone who was very sick, fevers, hot and cold, sweating. slept too much or not enough. He began to have trouble keeping food down and lacking an appetite which he still has problems with to this day along with sleep trouble and exhaustion. 22.Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?either doodles of dicks and such or a rude, raunchy or somehow unacceptable letter to someone whether he knew them or not he wrote for a laugh with no intention of sending. He’s very mature24.Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?He actually excels in a lot of things, he’s a pretty gifted mage. He just Hates the Circle and all that academia type shit so regardless of his skill in them he doesn’t want to do them. He thinks intellectual pursuits are on a whole a waste of time because they’re mainly just there to make people feel more important and fancy.26.Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?NOPE. NONE. past maybe ‘consult with that statue of Eleni Zinovia back in Ferelden about what to do w/ my life’ and ‘get a boyfriend’. 28.Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?hoooooo that’s Rough. Probably Banal though he’s more a father figure. He wasn’t very close to his other mages and hated the templars. Later when he meets Keshet and Shalev I guess they become his best friends which is...... very gay and lame.

Worst Enemy is Cullen and Meredith but Meredith is dead so fuck youuuuuuuu Culllleeennnnnnnn.30.Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)Boy This Sucks [Drinks like a monster even more than usual] 

he’s pretty desensitized to tragedy but also a shambling mess so it’s really just his usual self but like 1000000000000000% worse for a while

32.Thoughts on material possessions in general?

MORE PLEASE. he loves shit give him all the stuff he wants to lounge in a gaudy parlor on a opulent chaise. He never got to have much in the way of possessions in the circle so he lots shit now. also he’s just a material little shit.

34.Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)He doesn’t care about other people’s privacy pretty much at all and loves getting into people’s shit but he’s VERY intense about his own privacy. He’s deeply protective of himself and his things and privacy. So he’s a wildly hypocritical guy.36.What makes them feel guilty?Not fucking much. He occasionally feels bad about how he’s treated someone but it’s not often and he’d never say it out loud. just kinda adds it to the pile of fuel for self-loathing.38.Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality?

He’d be a Type A if it weren’t how his life has gone so I guess he’s like, a burnout Type A. 

#theladypirate #answered #answered meme #inan hcs #tace hcs #inanallas #tace #i feel bad i didn't put ass much time in on tace but i'm battling a headache so RIP

[3one3]

The Sequel - 887

An Hour And Two Halves

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Show you what I can do, and you know it’s true, when I dance with you,” Christina sang along quietly with the song on the radio while she chopped carrots for her stew. It was a Joe Jonas song she didn’t even particularly like, but it was upbeat and bouncy and she was in a great mood. The vibe got bigger and louder as the chorus approached, and she was so ready for it. The rider dropped her knife on the plastic cutting board and dramatically flung her hand out at her sous chef, who was cutting green beans. “”Oh-oh-oh-oh, give me your haaaaand,” she sang loud and proud and with a silly face. “Oh-oh-oh-oh, I’ll be who I aaaaam. Oh-oh-oh-oh I ain’t no...Michael Jackson, but give me one chance, one chance to daaaance. Give me, one chance, one chance, to daaaance.” Juan didn’t offer his hand, so she just hopped around him in her energetic, extremely-non-Michael-Jackson-esque way. Her stew-making process was riddled with work interruptions for dancing and animated singing. Despite the midfielder’s disinterest in letting her drag him around his kitchen dancing to Top 40, he found her behavior amusing, and hilarious even at times. Her dramatic and extremely relevant interpretation of Justin Bieber’s “Friends” had him doubled over laughing. When it was over, they agreed that they were evidence for broken up couples everywhere that they can’t still be friends. Christina stopped singing and dancing to make out with him after the third “But we had something so good” line, so it really was pretty self-evident.

“What’s next, cariña?” Juan asked when her dancing took her back to her knife work and he was finished with his.

“Nada. Everything is finished. We put the potatoes in in an hour, and then the rest of the veggies half an hour after that, and then half an hour after that, we eat.” The beef was already simmering away in a big pot of stock, wine, herbs, and onions. He laughed at the chef when her eyes had the typically bad reaction to chopping all the onions too. Their whole cooking project was mostly Juan laughing at Christina, and Christina loving it.

“What do you want to do for an hour and two halves?”

“I’m not really sure, but I know I want to go for a walk after dinner. I miss the smell of London on a fall night sooooooo bad.” She turned her bottom lip over in an exaggerated pout and used her big knife to slide the carrots into the bowl with the beans. “Do you have any ideas?” The Spaniard took both the knife and the small cutting board to rinse in the sink with the ones he used.

“One.”

“Your penis is never going to be in my colon.”

“I want to read a poem to you, from the book.”

“Oh jesus,” the Olympic medalist groaned at the Olympic failure whose token of failure she kept in her book as a reminder of his belief in her ability to avoid failure. There was an unrealized connection between all of those things. The two athletes borrowed a variety of types of strength from each other, and they cultivated that borrowable strength in their own ways- alike, but different. The rider collected takeaways from her history books, and fed her imagination with her mysteries. The footballer collected food for thought from more abstract texts, like the collection of poems she gave him. Books and mutual intellectual stimulus would always bind them.

“It’s very good and you’ll really...relate to it.”

“Is it going to take an hour and two halves?” Christina asked, reluctantly consenting with her body language if not her actual language.

“No.”

“Fiiiiine. I want to hear the end of this Mikky Ekko song though.” She turned around and backed herself up to the small island counter, preparing to hoist herself up on it. Sometimes she was too lazy or tired to do it all on her own, and opened up a big bottom cabinet to step into for a boost. Then she could use her foot to close it again once seated. Juan always complimented her creativity in the matter. She intended to do it on her own on Sunday, and clamped her hands on the counter. He noticed as he was drying his hands, and dropped the towel to lend some help. His hands grasped her waist and lifted her the extra couple of inches she needed on top of her little hop, and he kept them there even after her butt landed safely. He held onto her to keep her from sliding back, so that she had to spread her legs to make space for him in between, and so that she was right up close to his body.

“I lied before.”

“Bout what?”

“I have two ideas for the hour and two halves.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I hope the second idea involves dragons,” the girl in leggings deadpanned to the boy between her legs. She also casually hung her wrists over his shoulders and passively kicked the backs of his thighs with her heels.

“I can’t wait for your birthday. I’m going to give you the biggest dragon-themed party anyone has ever seen,” the Spanish player laughed, with the same delight in the glint in his eye that had been there all through her dance-cooking. “Every little boy will be jealous.”

“Can it be a costume party? Will you be dressed as a knight? Or is this a Thrones-type dragon party? You would totally be a Stark.”

“We’ll have to see. I have some time to plan.”

“What’s your other idea for an hour and two halves?”

“I want to photograph you- exactly like this,” Juan hastened to add the second Christina’s face turned disapproving. “Exactly the way you’ve been here all afternoon. Just for myself, not the walls, or your Instagram, or a magazine.”

“Aww.” Spanish Teddy Bear is the sweetest, she cooed to herself. I thought he meant naked, and that he was going to try to say he wanted to do a “tasteful” thing instead of something pornographic, which is just what dudes say when they want you to feel classy and glamorous about being pornographic. It’s nice of him too to acknowledge that he recognizes how done I am with being photographed for other people right now, and even for my own social media. I haven’t posed anything with myself in a couple of weeks, because I’m sick of looking at myself, to be honest. I’m sick of hearing about myself too. One of the nice things about weeks and weeks without horse shows is not having to hear about me. I’m so fucking sick of me. Last night was too much about me. I want to crawl back under my rock until Doha. But I can be photographed for him, because that’s adorable. Especially since I don’t even look cute right now, I don’t think.

“Hopefully you don’t think too hard after I read the poem,” he snorted. “That would ruin the picture.”

“Ugh, do we have to?”

“Yes. I’ll go get the book.”

Juan didn’t have far to go. Much to Christina’s surprise, her gift to him was right on the footstool-table next to the chaise by the window. That meant he was actively reading it, at least part-time. That was where he kept the current book when it wasn’t traveling with him for a match, or when he wasn’t reading it in bed. She figured he was reading a novel that he would have taken to Chelsea Harbour with him on Friday night since she didn’t notice him put the Frank Bidart poems in his reading nook after the game on Saturday. On occasion, she had a “travel” read and a “home” read going on at the same time too- a practice she learned from the player. He said it helped him get his head into the right lane. The “travel” read, regardless of type, was for shifting focus away from everyday life to the match. He told Christina that it was especially helpful during the busy parts of the season when the team played every 3 or 4 days. The “home” read signaled the shutoff of football and the time to relax and recharge. The first kind tended to be more inspirational, like an autobiography, and the second variety was most often a work of fiction.

They met in the middle. Christina sat sideways on the sofa, Indian-style, and then collapsed backward to enjoy the stretching that position provided and also the offered focal point- the ceiling. Looking at the matte white ceiling was definitely preferable to making her expression available for his purposes during or after the reading of the poem. He sat by her legs and put his socked feet up on the coffee table. Without preamble, he began the poem.

“Advice to the Players. There is something missing in our definition, vision of a human being: the need to make. We are creatures who need to make. Because existence is willy-nilly thrust into our hands, our fate is to make something- if nothing else, the shape cut by the arc of our lives. My parents saw corrosively the arc of their lives. Making is the mirror in which we see ourselves. But being is making: not only large things, a family, a book, a business: but the shape we give this afternoon, a conversation between two friends, a meal. Or mis-shape. Without clarity about what we make, and the choices that underlie it, the need to make is a curse, a misfortune. The culture in which we live honors specific kinds of making (shaping or mis-shaping a business, a family) but does not understand how central making itself is as manifestation and mirror of the self, fundamental as eating or sleeping. In the images with which our culture incessantly teaches us, the cessation of labor is the beginning of pleasure; the goal of work is to cease working, an endless paradise of unending diversion. In the United States at the end of the twentieth century, the greatest luxury is to live a life in which the work that one does to earn a living, and what one has the appetite to make, coincide- by a kind of grace are the same, one. Without clarity, a curse, a misfortune. My intuition about what is of course un-provable comes, I’m sure, from observing, absorbing as a child the lives of my parents: the dilemmas, contradictions, chaos as they lived out their own often unacknowledged, barely examined desires to makes. They saw corrosively the shape cut by the arc of their lives. My parents never made something commensurate to their will to make, which I take to be, in varying degrees, the general human condition- as it is my own. Making is the mirror in which we see ourselves. Without clarity, a curse, a misfortune. Horrible the fate of the advice-giver in our culture: to repeat oneself in a thousand contexts until death, or irrelevance. I abjure advice-giver. Go make you ready.”

“It’s remarkable how you managed to conjure a poem that hits on me missing my family at the same time as my need to figure out what’s next in my life and then also the way you’re “making” with the mirror, with Common Goal,” the very impressed rider commented after giving all the words a moment to land. Every stanza felt immediately relevant to her, and she wanted to make sure Juan understood that she got it all. “My parents were the work to not work people, and they tried to make a business and a family, and never made their own likeness, or what they truky wanted to make. Like, I think my mom would rather have owned her own knitting store than been who she was. You and I are the lucky ones who get paid to make the thing we want to make, or our likeness, mirror image, whatever. But then we kind of grow out of that and we realize what we need to make is actually bigger than football and riding. For you, it’s Common Goal. And the weirdness and equilibrium I experience on and off right now is me trying to figure out what exactly it is I want to make next. And at the same time, I think you and I are kind of making our combined mirror reflection together too...” It all came out so quickly as her mind linked the ideas for the second time, and as she got more excited about them. “Did you think of those things when you first read it, or did it stay with you for a little while and the relevance came later?”

“Right away. From the title, I thought, “This is an important thing for me to read. This is about me, in some ways,” and then I read on and I thought, “This is Chris’ parents, and this is why their relationship was how it was, and why her mum resents her so much. Chris makes the thing she needs to make from inside. Mrs. Martin made the thing she thought she was supposed to.” And I liked the repetitive lines. “Without clarity, a curse, a misfortune.” I try now to have clarity when I make decisions. No lies, no confusion. You’re right,” he smiled as his friend peeked over at him from the flat of her back. “I do feel like I’m making the right thing now, besides football. I like this poem very much.”

“Thank you for sharing it,” she smiled back. “Sorry I objected. I should know to trust you by now,” she chuckled. He grabbed her wrist when she lifted it for help, and pulled her back up and forward so that she could reward him with a sweet kiss in the middle of his lips. They could have dissected the poem together, quite happily, for the two hours before dinner. It just wasn’t necessary. They didn’t need to talk each other into believing their take, or dissect it. Knowing that was sort of novel. Christina appreciated it.

“I have enjoyed the book a lot. It was a good choice, cariña.”

“I enjoy your face a lot.” She put her hands around the back of the player’s neck, paused to watch for the flattery’s impact to arrive in his beautiful blues, and then pulled on him until he got the message that she wanted him to lie beside her, not just be annoying and hang on his neck. He went pretty willingly, and she got more of her arms around his head when they found a comfortable spot together, and she rubbed her right leg on his bare ones until it pushed her leggings up her calf a little. “I know you want to take pictures of me acting like I live here,” she teased knowingly. “But I’d rather be a lazy bum on the couch.” Juan’s nose was captured playfully between her teeth until he kissed her chin. He found an unexpectedly ticklish spot, and took advantage when Christina’s shiver-like reaction brought her midsection even closer to him. He hugged her waist tight with one arm.

“We’re getting closer to the part of the season when I’m a lazy bum on the couch a lot,” he told her while she played absently with the hair at the back of his head, well below the thinning spot. “I hope you’re joining often.”

“I want to stay here for most of the week of the horse show. Schü and Lukas are coming for the Sunday and Monday, and Tuesday, after, so we’ll stay at a hotel, but I’ll be here for 6 days before that. I don’t know if you want an extra bum on your couch for that long.”

“It’s a sexy bum, so I want,” the Chelsea man smiled, squeezing her butt.

“I might want to come for New Year’s too, but I dunno yet. I have no idea, really.” I also kind of want some magical night with Schü. I owe him that, and I want it anyway. I want special with him. We never have that anymore. We have nice nights ended early because of dead goldfish, and then two nights of crying until midnight because of the dead goldfish. How dare the goldfish go and die when it knew Lukas liked to watch him in the light from his nightlight when he wakes up in the night and can’t sleep? How dare he leave him with no soothing thing to watch. IIIIII didn’t know he did that, but surely the goldfish knew.

“You’re always welcome with me, baby girl.” Juan rubbed his nose on the rider’s and then kissed her, long and low-energy, and perfect for the moment. He was finally able to shed the longstanding feeling that their time together was limited, so he was no longer hastening to get his fill of her, and get “through” everything he wanted with her before her next departure. There was a new calmness- a change in behavior dictated by the realization that the clock wasn’t running anymore. Christina was always coming back to him. They didn’t need to have sex in 6 different positions on the first night, or hurry to get from couch-cuddle-flirting to more serious foreplay to actual sex. “Hurry” was relative, of course, because the player’s imperative was subtle, but it was noteworthy by its absence. She watched him for a second, the side of her thumb resting lightly on his cheek, and reflected on that change. I wish I had his ability to settle down in something and believe it’s going the way I want even when I know it will probably change. Thinking too hard about anything was unpalatable in that moment of closeness, and shared breath, and soft pads of fingers on highly personal skin. The equestrian star took her turn to kiss her favorite Blue, mostly on just one side of his mouth because getting to the whole thing would have required her to move her head a little and that was too much. The exact position she was in- literally and figuratively, physically and emotionally- was too perfect to alter either by movement or consideration. His lips were perfect- warm, unblemished by dryness or cracking or even a wrinkle, tense just enough to hold the kiss together, still enough not to interrupt the transfer of love and comfort through that most import line of communication. A kiss like that was practically nothing and almost everything simultaneously. And it was, afterward, symbolic of a cornerstone in recent memory.

“I think I want to tell you something,” Christina whispered after her smooch. Her regular conversational voice was small enough to fit in the very small space between them without even breathing too much air in Juan’s face- something she often took into consideration when snuggling close with anyone- but that voice came with full conviction and confidence and those weren’t the preconditions for what she wanted to say, so all that came out when she opened her mouth was a sweet whisper.

“What?” the Spaniard whispered back teasingly, with a grin, almost like stage-whispering.

“I used to really hate the person I was with you- like because you made me want to do things that hurt Schü, and our relationship has, at times, made it very difficult for me to look after my responsibilities and ride my best, and do the right thing. I loved being with you, but I hated who I was for that,” she explained with a bit more surety. “Now I feel like I’m actually growing and improving myself- I don’t want to say because of you- but with you, together. I’m making decisions that feel good, and I’m finding it easier to be happy and content wherever I am, physically and in a moment. I don’t know- Maybe it’s because the Olympic hurdle is in the rearview now. Maybe that was the big difference. I just don’t think it was. I think it’s you. I’ve said in the past that we are the worst thing for each other. I don’t think so anymore. I think you’re the best thing for me right now.” I didn’t really mean to get so into this, the rider realized, pointer finger on Juan’s chin, which she was staring at instead of the receptive blues she looked into while she talked. I wasn’t going to say that much. I hate when I start trying to tell someone a small thing, or a short thing, and it gets me thinking, and then I can’t stop talking. Now I’m rambling to myself because...who knows. Anyway. “I’m glad you’re coming to Doha too,” she finished after reaching for some kind of period for the declaration, or something to take up some more airtime since Juan wasn’t saying anything.

“I told you we could be happy together and that we can do more than be miserable together. Not miserable together because we’re together, but be together because one or both is miserable about other things. You know what I mean,” the footballer laughed. He was recalling a conversation they fought through years back, right after Lukas was born. Christina didn’t think they could ever be a couple because all of their experience together was when one or both of them was in bad shape because of their other relationships. They were always closest when their lives were the most tumultuous and generally unhappy. “And now you understand how I feel with you,” he added, more sincerely. “I feel good about myself, and happy with myself, with you. I always have, more or less.”

“I think it’s more for you now though. Ever since we stopped lying.”

“That could be.”

“Okay I feel too grown up and in touch with my feelings now. Give me something stupid and immature to talk about.”

“Can I tickle you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Can I go get the camera and take pictures of you?”

“Can I do goofy poses?”

“Yes.”

“K. I need another kiss first though.”

[cessanderson]

The Paralyzing Fear of Purchasing a New Couch http://ift.tt/2m7TveB

Let’s start this post off by talking about personal strengths. Mine fall along the lines of 1.) tearing apart a house I’m living in, 2.) doing shit someone told me I couldn’t, 3.) building random things while drinking wine, and 4.) hugging chickens.

Obv.

Things that are not on that list? Decorating a house.

I mean, I’m decent at replicating something I see and like… a super expensive bathroom vanity, for example? No problem, I can build one on the cheap. But the more I’ve seen really talented people put rooms together, the more I realized how much I don’t know (and, frankly, don’t want to take the time to learn) about space planning, the best way to arrange furniture, and just plain making a room look good.

This hasn’t been an actual issue in my life because all of the houses I’ve lived in for the last 8 years have been in a perpetual state of getting torn apart and being put back together. So, you know, my biggest concerns have always been things like whether or not I have a functioning kitchen sink, and less about aesthetics.

But this week marks five whole years since I bought this big, old farmhouse, and in that time I’ve only purchased 4 pieces of furniture to go inside of it.

A bookshelf to hold all of my books.*

A bookshelf to hold all of my farm gear.

A craigslist kitchen table.

A bed. (Wait, actually, two beds.)

Everything else in this house is either a hand-me-down or something I built myself, like the office desk and indoor workbench, or my console table for the TV, or this old chicken crate I use for a coffee table. Which suits me. I don’t need a house full of expensive furniture because, let’s be honest, if I’m going to spend money somewhere I’d rather have a barn full of expensive tools and tractor implements, obv.

But there is one thing I’ve wanted in this house for quite some time…

A nice big couch.

What I’ve had for the last five years is this small-ish leather couch that I’m pretty sure is actually made out of teflon.

I’m telling you, it is fucking indestructible. Also probably bullet proof. Kingdoms could rise and fall around this couch and it would remain unscathed. All in all, it is the perfect piece of furniture for someone like me.

Except, of course, it can “comfortably” sit about one-and-a-half people, which is basically just me and the cat (and only if neither one of us is that concerned about actually being comfortable.) This couch is meant to survive a nuclear blast, not to lounge and read books on.

It seems like, if nothing else, in this great big house with great big rooms I should at least be able to fit a great big couch. Right?

Yeah, actually, I have no idea. About once every six months for the last five years I’ve decided to finally buy a new couch. So I look up a bunch of couches online, get my measuring tape out, come thisclose to buying one, and then the paralyzing fear takes over. Mostly because I have no idea how to arrange furniture, so I have no idea if my chosen couch will fit. Or which way it should face. Or what color it should be. Or if my TV is in the right spot. Or, or, or, or, or…

My eye is twitching just thinking about it.

You know ten years ago all I wanted was to do ALL of the things, ALL by myself. Now I just want to have time to drink wine and build shit, and hug my chickens, and maybe have a comfy couch to sprawl out on at the end of a hard day working around the farm. I want to have comfortable, functional spaces in this house, but I also want to spend exactly zero minutes agonizing over furniture and curtains and rugs. (Seriously don’t even get me started on curtains. I literally have a bath towel nailed over one of my bedroom windows right now, and the last time I went online to buy a curtain for that room I somehow ended up with 18 grapevines instead.)

In the end I have never been able to justify spending money on a piece of furniture that may or may not fit in my space. It wasn’t until just a couple of months ago that– as I was lying dejectedly on my uncomfortable, indestructible, teflon couch, with no reprieve in sight– I realized there was a solution. I could just, uh, ask for help.

Specifically, I could ask my friend Krista, who is both the kind of person I’ll jump into a pool with–fully clothed– on New Years Eve (that happened) and also happens to be one of the talented designers behind Cloth + Kind. I mean, I spend most of my time on Instagram liking pictures of the rooms she’s put together, which is to say I like her as a person and I also like the work she does.

So I did. I hired Krista and her partner Tami for a 5-hour session (they call it a “Virtual Vibe“) to help me make a whole bunch of design decisions I did not want to spend the next eternity agonizing over.

The nice thing about the way the session worked was that I was able to do all the legwork up front, providing dimensions and elevations for my rooms…

As you can see, the cat “helped” with the corner of this one…

And then Krista and Tami were able to put some floor plan options together before we even got together.

Here are a couple…

And the one we decided to start with:

Then, as we worked together and I said things like, “hey, it would be nice to have a sectional where my boyfriend and I can both stretch out without fighting over leg space”, they would update the plan real-time to something like this…

And, as we chose rugs and furniture, like this…

And this…

They would continually adjust the floor plan to the exact dimensions of what we’d chosen so that we were 100% sure everything would fit space-wise.

Which was such a relief to me I can’t even tell you.

They also were able to work with the fact that I’ll probably build some of the furniture myself. So they’d say something like “you should put a 42″ round coffee table here” and give me a few examples, with the understanding that now that I know the shape and dimensions I can build something myself that I know will fit the space.

And, of course, the biggest thing of all…

I bought a couch.

It’s the Shelter 2-Piece Terminal Chaise from West Elm (in Shelter blue fabric.)

I can’t wait. I’m going to read ALL THE BOOKS while lounging on this thing. But first, of course, there’s work to do (there’s always work to do.)

The nice thing about putting together a plan with Krista and Tami is that now I can paint, build, and buy as time and finances allow (without going through the paralyzing fear of will-this-or-won’t-this-work with every single decision.)

I’ll make a few of the bigger changes– like painting the walls and mounting the TV over the fireplace– in the next month or so, before the couch arrives. But I’d guess it will probably take another year until the room really comes together as intended.

But as long as I’ve got a comfy place to sit, I’m really not worried about how long it takes to get the room done. As for the cat…

Apparently he’s found his new comfy place to sit already.

Kit

#DIYdiva

[thomasrush851]

The Paralyzing Fear of Purchasing a New Couch

Let’s start this post off by talking about personal strengths. Mine fall along the lines of 1.) tearing apart a house I’m living in, 2.) doing shit someone told me I couldn’t, 3.) building random things while drinking wine, and 4.) hugging chickens.

Obv.

Things that are not on that list? Decorating a house.

I mean, I’m decent at replicating something I see and like… a super expensive bathroom vanity, for example? No problem, I can build one on the cheap. But the more I’ve seen really talented people put rooms together, the more I realized how much I don’t know (and, frankly, don’t want to take the time to learn) about space planning, the best way to arrange furniture, and just plain making a room look good.

This hasn’t been an actual issue in my life because all of the houses I’ve lived in for the last 8 years have been in a perpetual state of getting torn apart and being put back together. So, you know, my biggest concerns have always been things like whether or not I have a functioning kitchen sink, and less about aesthetics.

But this week marks five whole years since I bought this big, old farmhouse, and in that time I’ve only purchased 4 pieces of furniture to go inside of it.

A bookshelf to hold all of my books.*

A bookshelf to hold all of my farm gear.

A craigslist kitchen table.

A bed. (Wait, actually, two beds.)

Everything else in this house is either a hand-me-down or something I built myself, like the office desk and indoor workbench, or my console table for the TV, or this old chicken crate I use for a coffee table. Which suits me. I don’t need a house full of expensive furniture because, let’s be honest, if I’m going to spend money somewhere I’d rather have a barn full of expensive tools and tractor implements, obv.

But there is one thing I’ve wanted in this house for quite some time…

A nice big couch.

What I’ve had for the last five years is this small-ish leather couch that I’m pretty sure is actually made out of teflon.

I’m telling you, it is fucking indestructible. Also probably bullet proof. Kingdoms could rise and fall around this couch and it would remain unscathed. All in all, it is the perfect piece of furniture for someone like me.

Except, of course, it can “comfortably” sit about one-and-a-half people, which is basically just me and the cat (and only if neither one of us is that concerned about actually being comfortable.) This couch is meant to survive a nuclear blast, not to lounge and read books on.

It seems like, if nothing else, in this great big house with great big rooms I should at least be able to fit a great big couch. Right?

Yeah, actually, I have no idea. About once every six months for the last five years I’ve decided to finally buy a new couch. So I look up a bunch of couches online, get my measuring tape out, come thisclose to buying one, and then the paralyzing fear takes over. Mostly because I have no idea how to arrange furniture, so I have no idea if my chosen couch will fit. Or which way it should face. Or what color it should be. Or if my TV is in the right spot. Or, or, or, or, or…

My eye is twitching just thinking about it.

You know ten years ago all I wanted was to do ALL of the things, ALL by myself. Now I just want to have time to drink wine and build shit, and hug my chickens, and maybe have a comfy couch to sprawl out on at the end of a hard day working around the farm. I want to have comfortable, functional spaces in this house, but I also want to spend exactly zero minutes agonizing over furniture and curtains and rugs. (Seriously don’t even get me started on curtains. I literally have a bath towel nailed over one of my bedroom windows right now, and the last time I went online to buy a curtain for that room I somehow ended up with 18 grapevines instead.)

In the end I have never been able to justify spending money on a piece of furniture that may or may not fit in my space. It wasn’t until just a couple of months ago that– as I was lying dejectedly on my uncomfortable, indestructible, teflon couch, with no reprieve in sight– I realized there was a solution. I could just, uh, ask for help.

Specifically, I could ask my friend Krista, who is both the kind of person I’ll jump into a pool with–fully clothed– on New Years Eve (that happened) and also happens to be one of the talented designers behind Cloth + Kind. I mean, I spend most of my time on Instagram liking pictures of the rooms she’s put together, which is to say I like her as a person and I also like the work she does.

So I did. I hired Krista and her partner Tami for a 5-hour session (they call it a “Virtual Vibe“) to help me make a whole bunch of design decisions I did not want to spend the next eternity agonizing over.

The nice thing about the way the session worked was that I was able to do all the legwork up front, providing dimensions and elevations for my rooms…

As you can see, the cat “helped” with the corner of this one…

And then Krista and Tami were able to put some floor plan options together before we even got together.

Here are a couple…

And the one we decided to start with:

Then, as we worked together and I said things like, “hey, it would be nice to have a sectional where my boyfriend and I can both stretch out without fighting over leg space”, they would update the plan real-time to something like this…

And, as we chose rugs and furniture, like this…

And this…

They would continually adjust the floor plan to the exact dimensions of what we’d chosen so that we were 100% sure everything would fit space-wise.

Which was such a relief to me I can’t even tell you.

They also were able to work with the fact that I’ll probably build some of the furniture myself. So they’d say something like “you should put a 42″ round coffee table here” and give me a few examples, with the understanding that now that I know the shape and dimensions I can build something myself that I know will fit the space.

And, of course, the biggest thing of all…

I bought a couch.

It’s the Shelter 2-Piece Terminal Chaise from West Elm (in Shelter blue fabric.)

I can’t wait. I’m going to read ALL THE BOOKS while lounging on this thing. But first, of course, there’s work to do (there’s always work to do.)

The nice thing about putting together a plan with Krista and Tami is that now I can paint, build, and buy as time and finances allow (without going through the paralyzing fear of will-this-or-won’t-this-work with every single decision.)

I’ll make a few of the bigger changes– like painting the walls and mounting the TV over the fireplace– in the next month or so, before the couch arrives. But I’d guess it will probably take another year until the room really comes together as intended.

But as long as I’ve got a comfy place to sit, I’m really not worried about how long it takes to get the room done. As for the cat…

Apparently he’s found his new comfy place to sit already.

from Bathroom & Home http://diydiva.net/2017/03/the-paralyzing-fear-of-purchasing-a-new-couch/

from The Paralyzing Fear of Purchasing a New Couch

#The Paralyzing Fear of Purchasing a New Couch

[mrstevenbushus]

The Paralyzing Fear of Purchasing a New Couch

Let’s start this post off by talking about personal strengths. Mine fall along the lines of 1.) tearing apart a house I’m living in, 2.) doing shit someone told me I couldn’t, 3.) building random things while drinking wine, and 4.) hugging chickens.

Obv.

Things that are not on that list? Decorating a house.

I mean, I’m decent at replicating something I see and like… a super expensive bathroom vanity, for example? No problem, I can build one on the cheap. But the more I’ve seen really talented people put rooms together, the more I realized how much I don’t know (and, frankly, don’t want to take the time to learn) about space planning, the best way to arrange furniture, and just plain making a room look good.

This hasn’t been an actual issue in my life because all of the houses I’ve lived in for the last 8 years have been in a perpetual state of getting torn apart and being put back together. So, you know, my biggest concerns have always been things like whether or not I have a functioning kitchen sink, and less about aesthetics.

But this week marks five whole years since I bought this big, old farmhouse, and in that time I’ve only purchased 4 pieces of furniture to go inside of it.

A bookshelf to hold all of my books.*

A bookshelf to hold all of my farm gear.

A craigslist kitchen table.

A bed. (Wait, actually, two beds.)

Everything else in this house is either a hand-me-down or something I built myself, like the office desk and indoor workbench, or my console table for the TV, or this old chicken crate I use for a coffee table. Which suits me. I don’t need a house full of expensive furniture because, let’s be honest, if I’m going to spend money somewhere I’d rather have a barn full of expensive tools and tractor implements, obv.

But there is one thing I’ve wanted in this house for quite some time…

A nice big couch.

What I’ve had for the last five years is this small-ish leather couch that I’m pretty sure is actually made out of teflon.

I’m telling you, it is fucking indestructible. Also probably bullet proof. Kingdoms could rise and fall around this couch and it would remain unscathed. All in all, it is the perfect piece of furniture for someone like me.

Except, of course, it can “comfortably” sit about one-and-a-half people, which is basically just me and the cat (and only if neither one of us is that concerned about actually being comfortable.) This couch is meant to survive a nuclear blast, not to lounge and read books on.

It seems like, if nothing else, in this great big house with great big rooms I should at least be able to fit a great big couch. Right?

Yeah, actually, I have no idea. About once every six months for the last five years I’ve decided to finally buy a new couch. So I look up a bunch of couches online, get my measuring tape out, come thisclose to buying one, and then the paralyzing fear takes over. Mostly because I have no idea how to arrange furniture, so I have no idea if my chosen couch will fit. Or which way it should face. Or what color it should be. Or if my TV is in the right spot. Or, or, or, or, or…

My eye is twitching just thinking about it.

You know ten years ago all I wanted was to do ALL of the things, ALL by myself. Now I just want to have time to drink wine and build shit, and hug my chickens, and maybe have a comfy couch to sprawl out on at the end of a hard day working around the farm. I want to have comfortable, functional spaces in this house, but I also want to spend exactly zero minutes agonizing over furniture and curtains and rugs. (Seriously don’t even get me started on curtains. I literally have a bath towel nailed over one of my bedroom windows right now, and the last time I went online to buy a curtain for that room I somehow ended up with 18 grapevines instead.)

In the end I have never been able to justify spending money on a piece of furniture that may or may not fit in my space. It wasn’t until just a couple of months ago that– as I was lying dejectedly on my uncomfortable, indestructible, teflon couch, with no reprieve in sight– I realized there was a solution. I could just, uh, ask for help.

Specifically, I could ask my friend Krista, who is both the kind of person I’ll jump into a pool with–fully clothed– on New Years Eve (that happened) and also happens to be one of the talented designers behind Cloth + Kind. I mean, I spend most of my time on Instagram liking pictures of the rooms she’s put together, which is to say I like her as a person and I also like the work she does.

So I did. I hired Krista and her partner Tami for a 5-hour session (they call it a “Virtual Vibe“) to help me make a whole bunch of design decisions I did not want to spend the next eternity agonizing over.

The nice thing about the way the session worked was that I was able to do all the legwork up front, providing dimensions and elevations for my rooms…

As you can see, the cat “helped” with the corner of this one…

And then Krista and Tami were able to put some floor plan options together before we even got together.

Here are a couple…

And the one we decided to start with:

Then, as we worked together and I said things like, “hey, it would be nice to have a sectional where my boyfriend and I can both stretch out without fighting over leg space”, they would update the plan real-time to something like this…

And, as we chose rugs and furniture, like this…

And this…

They would continually adjust the floor plan to the exact dimensions of what we’d chosen so that we were 100% sure everything would fit space-wise.

Which was such a relief to me I can’t even tell you.

They also were able to work with the fact that I’ll probably build some of the furniture myself. So they’d say something like “you should put a 42″ round coffee table here” and give me a few examples, with the understanding that now that I know the shape and dimensions I can build something myself that I know will fit the space.

And, of course, the biggest thing of all…

I bought a couch.

It’s the Shelter 2-Piece Terminal Chaise from West Elm (in Shelter blue fabric.)

I can’t wait. I’m going to read ALL THE BOOKS while lounging on this thing. But first, of course, there’s work to do (there’s always work to do.)

The nice thing about putting together a plan with Krista and Tami is that now I can paint, build, and buy as time and finances allow (without going through the paralyzing fear of will-this-or-won’t-this-work with every single decision.)

I’ll make a few of the bigger changes– like painting the walls and mounting the TV over the fireplace– in the next month or so, before the couch arrives. But I’d guess it will probably take another year until the room really comes together as intended.

But as long as I’ve got a comfy place to sit, I’m really not worried about how long it takes to get the room done. As for the cat…

Apparently he’s found his new comfy place to sit already.

Article reference The Paralyzing Fear of Purchasing a New Couch

[norihisahyuga-archived]

An Arrangement (6/26)

Matsuoka Masahiro/Nagase Tomoya Tokio 2100~ words. NSFW.

Masahiro Matsuoka is an incubus who just wants a casual partner, too tired to hunt down his meals individually and leery of those who form attachments too easily. Tomoya Nagase laughs at the idea of attachment; everyone has always sent him away when they are done with him, so he has no reason to try anymore. Their situations suit each other perfectly. Unfortunately, they also suit each other perfectly, and that was something neither of them expected.

Shige’s visit is a pleasant break in the routine the two of them have developed, though it makes Tomo miss Tatsu with a fierce ache he hasn’t felt in a long time. The two of them have not been face to face in what feels like ages even though it’s just been over a year now; keeping up with each other is difficult, if not wholly impossible with the different lives they lead. He makes a mental note to find a way to contact Tatsu— they both have some mutual friends who might be able to help them connect once again— but otherwise, his life with Mabo goes about as planned.

Tomo finds things to do around the house more often than not when Mabo has to leave. He was kept in the house by his former masters, who wanted him here for their pleasure and little else, and though Mabo has said nothing of the kind to him, old habits are hard to break. At least Mabo’s house is large and lavish and when Mabo returns early in the afternoon from wherever he’s gone this time, Tomo has found his way up to Mabo’s office and the bookshelves within.

The room smells less like Mabo than the rest of the house, Tomo has noticed. There is no dust anywhere, of course, because Mabo keeps his house very clean and Tomo would have long since noticed if dust abounded here. He has a sensitive nose, after all, and dust more than just about anything else makes him sneeze. The leather chair behind the wide mahogany desk smells like Mabo, but more faintly than the rest of the furniture in the house despite the fact there is clear wearing in the fabric. He wonders when Mabo comes in here, if he’s asleep when Mabo decides to work, and he does wonder what Mabo does when he’s in here. None of this is his business, though. When Mabo finds himself, a surprised expression etched onto his face, Tomo has taken up residence on the chaise longue by the window, a book about marine life on his lap.

As per usual, Mabo is still in the clothes he left in, having decided to find Tomo in lieu of changing into something more comfortable. The white button-up is open at the front, a whisper of a hickey visible on the right side; Tomo tends to mark what belongs to him more often than not, and until Mabo sends him away, Mabo belongs to him. The sleeves are rolled up, showing off his forearms, and the simple charcoal pants make a perfect frame for his legs. Tomo doesn’t have to bother asking if Mabo has a personal tailor to alter his clothing for him.

“What are you doing up here?” Mabo asks as he walks into the room, closing the door behind him. He takes the leather chair, spinning it around until he’s facing Tomo, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “I don’t think I’ve found you up here yet.”

Tomo shrugs, marking his place in the book. “I like to explore. It’s a big house. Not even a week has been long enough to give me time to go through all the rooms.”

“Well, you’re welcome to explore to your heart’s content. And you can read anything on the shelves.” Mabo gestures around him, then cocks a thumb over his shoulder. “If you’ll please just refrain from touching my laptop, that’d be great. I have it password protected, and it’s not exactly a common enough password for most people to be able to crack it, but I’ve set things up on it in a very careful way and I don’t want to have to do it all over again.”

“I’m not going to touch your laptop, I promise,” Tomo reassures him, stretching out as he does.

And he doesn’t miss the dark flash in Mabo’s eyes. “Thank you. Now, I wanted to ask you about something. A friend of mine is going to be throwing a party in a few days.”

Tomo cocks his head at the mention of a party. He’s been to parties before, usually not with one of his masters but with his friends and the people he knows and trusts around the city. Getting invited is easy; most people like him and the energy he carries with him, and he does well with most people as long as he’s able to keep himself together long enough. Mabo hasn’t said anything about parties, and he’d seemed almost out of place at the bar, so Tomo is curious to see what he’s like in that kind of setting. Probably just as calm and in control as he usually is.

Usually, he thinks, because Mabo’s face yesterday when he had finally dragged himself out of bed to see if Shige had arrived suggested he was not even close to being in control of himself. It was different to be sure, and Tomo is still not sure what to make of the experience.

It makes him think back to when Mabo had first fucked him, when he had been desperate to be touched and Mabo instantly softened to touch him, to pull him closer, to comfort him. It’s the most Mabo has ever really let his guard down, and though Tomo has no right to ask him to do so— has no real right to want him to relax himself around him like that— he’s still glad he’s been able to see it. A few peeks inside of whoever Mabo is. It’s been an interesting experience.

“Who’s throwing the party?” he asks, swinging his legs off of the longue and leaning back a bit, mimicking Mabo’s pose and throwing him a flirty little smile.

Mabo raises a brow at him but chooses not to comment. “A friend of mine, Yoshihiko Inohara.”

The name tugs at something in the back of Tomo’s mind, and he feels like he should have a face to put with that name, but he doesn’t. “That name sounds familiar,” he finally says. “What kind of party is it? Are we supposed to dress up nice or anything?”

“Inocchi is an angel,” Mabo says, and Tomo pauses. The one he spoke about yesterday? “It’s just a formal party. He’s celebrating his anniversary with his mate and would like us to come.”

That surprises Tomo more than he can explain. Us. If this Inocchi knows that there is an us, then that means Mabo’s been talking to people about him. Not just people, but people he considers to be his friends. He can’t help but wonder what Mabo has been saying, if it’s been good things or bad things… Though if he has problems with Tomo, he sure hasn’t been showing them.

“I was wondering what you might want to wear to the party,” Mabo says after a moment. “I know you like to wear skirts and dresses.” The comment makes Tomo smile, crossing his legs beneath the light white skirt he’s wearing today. “Do you want to wear a dress? I’ll find a suit to match.”

Tomo doesn’t have to think of what his answer will be. He also doesn’t have to think about what dress in particular he plans on wearing. When he had been still just a kit, there had been children who teased him and bullied him for wearing his sister’s clothes in an attempt to find himself and, in the process, do what made him happiest. Grown up, with that hundreds of years behind him, he’d finally been able to be more of who he wanted to be, rather than who others wanted him to be.

“I do,” he says, pushing himself up and clapping his hands together, unable to help a mischievous little smile. “Come on, I’ll show it to you. I put it at the back of the closet to surprise you with.”

Mabo’s eyes flare darker again, and he giggles. “I can only imagine what you’re going to show me.”

The dress is at the back of the closet for a reason, and Tomo sweeps the rest of his clothing aside so he can retrieve it, careful as he lifts its hanger from the rod. The dress is his favorite one, a crimson that makes him think of nothing but sin. The skirt actually hits him at the knees, so it isn’t as provocative as some of the clothing he owns, but the back swoops down low, low enough that his tail is left free of the fabric and the very top of his ass is just covered.

He holds it out for Mabo’s inspection, watching his master run careful fingers over the soft crushed velvet, watches the surprise, and then the lust, bleed into his gaze when Tomo turns the dress around so he can see the back of it— or rather the lack of. He doesn’t even have to ask to know that Mabo is mentally trying to picture him in the dress.

“You have a lot of confidence to be comfortable in such revealing clothing,” Mabo murmurs.

“It takes time to develop that kind of confidence, but I’d like to think I have it now.” Tomo chuckles, returning the dress to its place in the closet. “But that’s what I’m going to wear. From the look you were giving me, I’m going to take a shot in the dark here. You must have liked it.”

When he turns around, Mabo is just suddenly in front of him, suddenly in his personal space, and Tomo’s breath hitches at having him this close. The fact his eyes have bled pitch black says it all. “I like the idea of you in the dress,” he says, fingers finding one of Tomo’s ears, smoothing the fur before giving it just the slightest tug. “I’m going to enjoy peeling you out of it just as much.”

The feeling of being prey cornered by a predator makes a sudden return from their first meeting; Tomo licks his lips, his heart beating a little faster, his pulse thudding harder in his throat. When Mabo leans close enough that his breath curls across Tomo’s lips, his skin breaks out in goosebumps. With Mabo this close and this infuriatingly sexy, Tomo weakens faster than he has with any of his other masters. He pushes himself into Mabo’s arms, capturing his lips in a kiss as Mabo stumbles backward and falls onto the bed. And now Tomo is the predator, the one who lands on top of him, unable to stop himself from smirking into the kiss.

He loses track of Mabo’s hands, of how fast they move, yanking his skirt up around his waist, shredding through the cotton of his panties— he’d bitch but they were cotton anyway— until there’s nothing but Mabo’s warm hands on his hotter skin. Of course, he has to allow time for Mabo to grab the lube off of the nightstand and then slick fingers slide so deep inside, two all the way to the last knuckle. He’s done this long enough and often enough that he’s not as tight as he used to be but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think his body is acclimating to Mabo faster and more completely than it ever has to anyone else before.

“Mabo, please,” he whines, rocking down on those fingers, so much and yet not enough.

“F-fuck, Tomo, I just—-” Tomo cuts him off with a demanding kiss and Mabo groans against his lips, hooking his fingers up so hard Tomo’s entire body jolts. “Open up for Master, kitten.”

He can barely hold on once Mabo is inside of him, his knees pressed tight to Mabo’s hips as he rides him, fingers gripping his button-up. He’s tight around Mabo, his ass a vice around Mabo’s dick so that every time his hips come down, every sensitive spot inside of him is rubbed almost raw. When he comes down a little harder, Mabo’s hips jerk up to meet his. Tomo sobs, head falling forward, fingers gripping Mabo’s shirt so tight he hears buttons pop.

“So fucking beautiful.” Mabo’s hand, still slick with lube, wraps tight around his cock, working Tomo with the same pace that Tomo milks his cock. “Come for me, Tomo. Now.”

When Tomo comes, his entire body goes taut, his thighs quivering, and he doesn’t hear what noise Mabo makes but feels the familiar liquid heat that tells him his master has come inside of him. The strength leaves his body in a rush then, and he flops forward, purring when Mabo catches him and pulls him close, rubbing his cheek against Mabo’s neck possessively.

“I can match that color of red,” Mabo murmurs into his hair, and Tomo laughs, too tired to do anything else but let his master cuddle him as close as he wants to.

#tokio #tok10fam #tomoya nagase #masahiro matsuoka #mabonaga #*f: mine #*f: an arrangement #*f: tokio #*f: tomo #*f: mabo #*f: mabonaga