#Handcrafted wooden cup

[lamieus]

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[mercurysmaelstrom]

Bite the Hand

pairing: Gwayne Hightower x Knight!Reader

summary: Labelled as a kinslayer, you flee from your city, finding solace in a seaside town. Years later, Gwayne Hightower, an old friend whose house is allied with your own, comes in search for you now that your house is in need of a new head.

or

Gwayne looks for you in hopes of rekindling the relationship you ran away from.

contains: angst, smut (18+), no use of y/n.

word count: 3.1k

notes: this is for my service tops. reader is gender neutral. also reader is more of an ex-knight. happy reading!

You poured a tankard of ale into your cup as your crew conversed.

Your table sat all the way in a far corner of the wharf-side tavern, a booth you swiftly suggested when you and your fellow dock workers first arrived. With the full room in view, your eyes glided along the area, observing the several port laborers and merchants—most of them rowdy men, as to be expected.

You took notice of the tavern waitress and the blank expression on her face as the very same men harassed her, indicating that she was used to it. Thus, the next time she approached your booth, you flipped a gold coin in her direction, following it with a small nod as her eyes briefly widened at you.

She smiled tightly, grateful, yet confused, then walked away when she realized you had no intention of asking for anything.

“How gracious of you,” you heard a voice in the booth behind you, the one spot out of your line of sight.

The soft look you’d presented to the waitress hardened once you recognized who the voice belonged to.

You continued to look forward as you spoke. “What are you doing here?”

Gwayne Hightower slurped the rest of his wine before returning his cup to the table. “I could ask the same of you. Your house is missing an heir.”

The redhead wasn’t worried about being heard. The myriad of voices in the room easily flushed out his own, including yours.

You snorted. “If that were true, I would have claimed it long ago.” You took another swig of your ale. “My father was not particularly keen on passing it on to me.”

“Perhaps I need to speak more bluntly.” He leaned closer to you. “I would not be here if your father were not desperate for his heir. Age has caught up to him.”

Finally, you turned toward him with a furrow in your brows, seeing the face of a childhood companion. No cloak hid his armor, not that anyone paid him any mind. Many knights came and went in this town.

“The Stranger has taken him?” Was it relief or grief you were feeling? You weren’t sure.

“Not yet,” Gwayne answered. “But he is weak.”

You turned away, wretched memories furiously swimming their way to the surface. Even after all these years, the truth of your doing was not any easier to accept. It mattered not if what you did was right or wrong. Guilt had a way of latching onto you and never letting go.

You stood up, your crewmates much too distracted with their beer-medicated laughter to notice you. You momentarily scanned the room before looking down at Gwayne you peered up at you expectantly.

“Let’s speak elsewhere.”

The two of you pushed past the cramped room, exiting the tavern and its slippery concrete floors. When you decided speaking outside a lively business would be reckless, Gwayne followed on foot with his horse by his side as you reluctantly led him to the small cottage you owned not far from the wharf.

“Have a seat,” you told him once the two of you escaped the cold wind of the coast, entering your home.

While you decloaked, Gwayne unsheathed his sword, laying it on the gray wooden table you had handcrafted yourself.

The moon beamed through the kitchen window, enough to help you see where you were going as you headed for the makeshift altar you had set above the fireplace, lighting a few of the candles you used more for reading than praying, although your first year in this town mustered more prayers from you than your life in Ecraen altogether.

You occupied your focus on the hearth below as Gwayne removed his pauldron and arm braces, the metal clanking against the table until he was left clad in a dark green gambeson and leg armor. He did not sit after, but instead roamed curiously around the small kitchen dining room, examining nothing of importance.

“This place—no one’s suspicious of your ownership?”

You stoked the now-crackling fire. “No one’s been here. Except you.”

Gwayne cleared his throat, remembering why he was here in the first place. “As I said, your father needs an heir.”

Your brow twitched. “What of my cousin?”

“You truly believe your father would rather his brother’s son become head of your family house? Regardless of your…” he paused for a moment, treading lightly as he looked out the window, “familial matters and, of course, his pride, he would rather foresee his own.”

“My cousin should be of age in a year,” you disregarded his answer.

“I do not trust that your father has a year.”

“Hm.”

Gwayne turned to face you, your back still in his direction. “Are you not even the least bit eager to claim your position?”

You sighed, setting down the stoker and facing the Hightower. “I am not fond of the reasoning, no. And even in Ecraen, I failed to see my father glance at me for consideration. And now he’s old. And gray. And desperate for the spare he cared not for all those years ago.” Now that Gwayne was in front of you, your mouth regrettably couldn’t stop running. “And you: why even send you? Of all people in my family- oh, unless the dishonor of the kinslayer was all too much, they had to send a Hightower instead.”

“You know I am much more than that,” Gwayne gruffly retaliated, taking a step forward. You could see he had lost his patience. “I was your companion, was I not?”

You swallowed.

“Before you left. Without a word. Not a whisper, nor a note.” He took another step forward. “We were close, you and I.”

Recollections of breathless sparring lessons between you and Gwayne when you were only squires ran through your mind—wooden swords clacking roughly against each other before you graduated to the sharp clangs of iron. You remembered joining your cups together, laughing with fellow young knights. And you remembered the redhead taking your lips with his own behind a tavern in Oldtown after more than enough drinks, drunk yet chaste.

Then you remembered his lack of remembrance for that kiss.

You never blamed him for it, though you certainly never reminded him either, even as you endured the heartache before disappearing.

You tore your eyes away from him, anxious to face the flame again. “I fear you may have wasted your journey here.”

Before you knew it, the knight had made his way closer, only an arm’s reach away.

“If you think I’ve traveled all this way simply on your father’s volition, you are mistaken,” replied Gwayne.

His gaze flustered you just as he did in your youth. And you loathed it; honeyed words that never meant what you shamefully hoped they meant.

With that, you sidestepped from him and the hearth, positioning your body to catch sight of him through the edge of your eye as you busied yourself with needlessly adjusting the tapestry of the seven-pointed star.

You were never heavily spiritual, not really. Neither was your father. Your mother was a different story. But time alone in this coastal town eventually pushed you toward the Faith.

You spoke again, your voice weaker than intended: “What other reason would you have for being here?”

“I came to see an old friend,” he answered earnestly.

An old friend.

You continued to fidget with the wool. “Alright then. You’ve seen me. You’ve spoken about my father; my house needs a new head? They can find that in cousin Alren. You’ve done what you needed, you may leave now.”

The knight’s lips parted at the haste of your words, his head tilting before his mouth closed. He moved close to the furnace, staring into the swirling fire.

Gwayne chuckled humorlessly. “Is that all?”

You could no longer see him, your back once again faced to him. You didn’t know how to feel. In this moment, you weren’t certain if you truly wanted him far away from you. Not when a part of you itched for the opposite.

“I have a life here, Gwayne,” you said, your focus still on the dimly lit tapestry.

He scoffed, his focus still on the flame. “And what life is that? Port labor? Drinks with a crew whom you hardly acknowledge? Days with no one but yourself?”

Gwayne lifted his head to see the seven candles above the hearth.

He knew your relationship with the Faith lacked stability. Frankly, he could not recall your faith being firm enough to see you in a sept, much less creating an altar for yourself, an attempt at one that is. Seeing one here made him wonder how desperate you were for the company of another that you seemed to have finally leaned on the presence of the incorporeal.

You sniffed. “‘Tis better than a life of shame.”

He spun his incredulous gaze to the back of your head. “Shame was your punishment in Ecraed. Yet you’ve told me no one has been in this sullen home of yours before me. Do you not see how you’ve isolated yourself? You traveled far to distance yourself from shame only to carry the damned thing with you all the way here!”

Frustrated, he furthered himself from you, drawing closer to the dining table with a hand on his hip and the other wiping down his mouth.

He tittered, eyeing the floor. “Better than a life of shame.”

“Do not mock me,” you spoke gutturally over your shoulder, dropping your hand from the tapestry.

“‘Tis but a repetition of your own words.”

The fire sputtered, its sizzling hum filling the room when you had nothing else to say, because as much as you hated to admit it, Gwayne was right, and all you could do was sit with the hard truth.

You glanced up at the seven-pointed star, embarrassed. Ashamed. Always ashamed.

Fuck, it was exhausting. Most of all, it was distracting.

You heaved out a sigh and looked to see the side of Gwayne’s face. The flame warmly flickered on his skin. You hadn’t taken the time to process how much older he had become since you last saw him.

Your stare broke when Gwayne turned suddenly, his face out of view as he went to retrieve his armor.

In fact, he wasn’t sure why he removed it in the first place.

“Mayhaps…you were right. I’ve done what was needed.” He lifted the pauldron over his head, proceeding with the rest of his protective plates. “Now I shall take my leave. Send a raven if you’ve changed your mind.”

“Gwayne.” You took a step toward him. Regret quickly seeped into you like venom from a snake.

“You live your shameless life hiding in this town.” He worked on his arm braces, moving much too fast to buckle smoothly. “And I will journey back to Ecraen.”

Your feet moved faster than you could think—you grasped his forearm. “Don’t.”

He tried to pull out of your hold, but you remained firm, pulling him toward you. Again, he tried to pull away until you confessed, “You’re right!” putting his movement to a halt. “You’re right. I know not how to live without shame.”

Gwayne’s body stilled. He only looked at you with sternness on his face.

Your eyes flickered between each of his, seizing his braced arm in anticipation that he would leave at any moment.

“Even before my brother fell from my sword,” you carried on almost hurriedly, “I knew shame all too well. But that is no excuse for how I’ve…for how I’ve treated you, I-I see that now. But you must understand, I was young; tunnel-visioned. I could only see so much, and all I could truly see…” you peered at your hand on his relenting arm, “was my own guilt—the disappointment I brought to my house.” Then you peered back up into his eyes, blue with tinges of orange that gleamed from the hearth. “I am truly sorry I did not see you.”

Gwayne didn’t move as he took in your confession; your realization.

In retrospect, he understood why you left. He understood the weight of your crime, and he understood why you did what you did. He recognized why you left your house and Ecraen; he recognized why you broke your knightly vows.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t understand how you left him, as selfish as it sounded. At least not at the time. But seeing crinkle in your brows and hearing the desperation in your voice, he realized that mayhaps he had been thinking too much of himself as well.

Gwayne looked down at the small space shared between the two of you.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“You’re sorry,” he murmured.

You angled your head to see Gwayne’s face and moved your hand from his forearm to his elbow. “I am.”

His eyes glided to your hand. This close, the redhead could smell saltwater off of you, a scent you lacked in Ecraen. He did not mind it.

He swallowed. “I suppose…I did not see you either.” He raised his head and your own followed as he returned his gaze on you. “And it seems I am not the only one in need of an apology.”

You scoffed softly. “I don't believe I want an apology.”

“What is it that you want then?” Gwayne whispered.

With no words left to say, you took hold of the back of his neck and pulled him in, pressing your lips onto his. Despite the small pause of shock, Gwayne didn’t fail to reciprocate. Both of his hands shot for the sides of your face as he inhaled, breathing you in.

Gwayne consumed you, chasing for a flavor he hadn’t remembered lingered on his tongue. The taste of your lips rang bells of familiarity, and even lost in your touch, he hazily wondered why that was.

Ignorant of what occurred in Gwayne’s mind, you took in the feel of him, remembering what you thought you had long forgotten.

You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, and he parted his lips, allowing your tongue to enter. His allowance didn’t end there. It didn’t end when you guided him to the table and it didn’t end when you started to remove his armor all over again, sneaking in kiss after kiss as you pulled the pauldron over his head. You lowered it to the ground as Gwayne unbuckled his gambeson, revealing a beige tunic beneath.

You returned to kiss him again, laying a hand on his hip before hesitantly sliding it toward his groin.

You pulled away again. “Can I…?”

“Yes,” Gwayne answered breathlessly, chasing for your lips again.

A muffled moan escaped his mouth when you cupped him, trailing your lips to his jaw and down his neck, snaking a hand under his pants. Gwayne murmured your name groggily as you grabbed hold of his stiff cock, rubbing up and down, feeling him out. Then you pulled your lips away from his neck and lowered his pants, the knight intently watching you. He continued to watch when you spat in your hand and grabbed him once again, and in response, a whimper released from the back of his throat.

You stared back at him, reveling at the sight of his mouth parting wordlessly as you rubbed your thumb over his leaking tip. You enjoyed having him here, eager for your touch; his member in your hand as he gazed at you with so much anticipation. Equally as eager to please him, you moved your fist up and down his length, slowly first, just to witness him writhe.

You didn’t fail to notice his hand tightly holding on to the edge of the table, his body more sensitive than you expected, presumably from his days on the road.

He dropped his head between your neck and shoulder. “Please.”

You couldn’t help but place your hand on the back of his head, lightly tugging at his red hair while you quickened the pace. You hadn’t expected to hear the vulnerable whimpers from a man you’d seen in battle, killing men left and right, especially when you twisted your hand near the tip of his cock.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“Don’t tell me you're nearly there already?” You teased him, smearing pre-cum along his length to help lubricate him even more, earning more profanities from his tongue.

A subtle smile appeared on his lips, though you couldn’t see it. “No time for sex.”

Your pace began to slow, hoping to prolong this moment with him. “I don’t recall you taking a vow of chastity in Oldtown.”

“Don’t…”

“Mm?”

“Don’t…don’t slow down.”

You tilted your head. “Look at me and I’ll do as you say.”

Gwayne obeyed, lifting his head with no reluctance.

Your hand snaked around to his face, and you patted his flushed cheek. “There we go,” you told him, keeping your hand on his jaw as your other hand jerked him faster. “There we go, Gwayne.”

Soon after you spoke, he grunted.

You licked your lips as you watched him squeeze his eyes shut, his mouth wide open as he came. Simply listening to him—gods, the sound of him, you never wanted it to stop. And so you kept rubbing, milking him of all his worth.

“Shit.” Gwayne’s body squirmed, but you continued, dropping your other hand on the table beside him.

As smooth as your hand moved, from your spit or his own bodily fluids, there was something about the calluses on your palm that added to the sensation; calluses that stemmed from the hilt of your sword. Feeling that you still had them, somewhere in Gwayne’s disheveled mind, he put together that you hadn’t put down the sword completely.

Memories of you swinging your sword almost sent him over the edge again right then and there.

“Want me to stop?” You leaned in. “I can stop.”

There was a smugness in your tone that took him back to your sparring lessons; you used to ask him the same thing when he seemed too tired to fight back.

“No, don’t.” He lifted his head to the ceiling. “Keep going,” he requested and you listened.

You could feel your hand start to cramp, but you ignored it, too enthralled by Gwayne moaning your name. You kissed his neck initially, then sucked, smoothing over newfound bruises on his skin with your tongue before he lowered his head, impatient to claim your lips right as he came again, light splatters of additional cum inevitably landing on your fingers and pants.

You pulled your lips away, your body still pressed against his as you snickered. Gwayne’s forehead landed on your shoulder again as he came back down to earth.

You caressed the back of his neck. “Feeling alright?”

Gwayne hummed, lifting his head back up, still somewhat high from your cramped hand.

“Interested in me returning the favor?” He tugged at the hem of your trousers.

“Very.”

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Day 13 — Christmas Market

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 700

Contents & Warnings || Fluff — no warnings.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Advent Calendar 2023

The city was draped in a winter blanket as you and Bucky strolled hand in hand through the enchanting pathways of the Christmas market. The aroma of roasted chestnuts, gingerbread, and spiced mulled wine wafted through the air. Wooden, rustic stalls were decorated with festive cheer—colorful ornaments, wreaths, and twinkling fairy lights. Seasonal melodies filled the air, creating a sense of community and celebration. People of all ages reveled in the festivities—culinary delights, shopping, and joyful activities. In this enchanting wonderland, with your lover by your side, a magical adventure awaited.

Bucky couldn't help stealing glances at you; your gloved hand fit perfectly in his as you leaned against his bicep. Your eyes twinkled from the lights that adorned the market and its stalls. The soft hues of the different colored lights cast an eternal radiance across your face, leaving Bucky breathless. He knew this season held a special place in your heart, and your happiness warmed his soul.

“What’s on your mind, doll? Where to first?” he questioned, brushing his lips against your temple.

“How about some hot chocolate first? Then, we can continue exploring. I want to take it all in with you by my side.”

Stopping at the nearest hot chocolate stand, Bucky ordered two steaming cups topped with a dollop of whipped cream. As you sipped the rich, chocolatey goodness, you leisurely strolled through the stalls, immersing yourselves in the holiday magic, savoring the sights, sounds, and scents surrounding you.

"We should get new decorations for our Christmas tree," Bucky suggested, his breath visible in the winter air as he gestured towards a stall selling handcrafted ornaments. The diverse pieces were stunning, each different and with intricate details that showed off the impressive craftsmanship. A figurine of a couple in a romantic embrace caught your eye. It would grace your tree, front and center, displayed proudly.

"This will be perfect for our tree, babe."

Cheesiness aside, Bucky embraced you just like the figurine, resting his forehead against yours. "It'll be the most perfect piece on the tree," he murmured, leaning in and sealing his words with a sweet kiss.

Continuing shopping, you stumbled upon a stall selling handmade scarves and mittens. With excitement, you suggested picking out matching scarves, a small gesture that would keep your hearts and bodies warm. Playfully trying on different colors—greens, reds, and blues—you settled on scarves that complemented each other perfectly.

"This will be so cute," you giggled, swapping the old ones for the new ones. A quick photo of you two with the recent purchase became your lock screen.

The aroma of freshly baked gingerbread cookies drew you to a nearby stall that called your names, and you couldn’t resist the allure, stomachs rumbling in hunger for delicious treats. Purchasing some, you found a cozy nook nestled in the heart of the market. Sitting on a bench, you snuggled close and enjoyed a tranquil moment as you munched on the warm, spiced cookies. The world around you melted away. The chilly air, the twinkling lights, and the cheerful tunes wrapped you in a cocoon of intimacy and magic.

"This is perfect," Bucky whispered, his gaze fixed on you.

You nodded, a fulfilled smile playing on your lips. "It is," you purred, brushing your lips with his. "But with you, babe, it's beyond magical."

As the evening progressed, the market became even more enchanting. The towering Christmas tree in the center of the square twinkled with holiday colors, drawing you both into its mesmerizing glow.

Underneath the branches, Bucky drew you tightly to him, gently cupping your cheeks and gazing into your shimmering eyes. You got lost in your shared intimacy, relishing in your touch and gazes.

"This has been one of my favorite evenings with you, doll."

His declaration made your heart stop and then beat again with intensity. After all these years, you found yourself falling in love all over again with each moment spent with him—his touches, his words.

“I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you, doll. Forever and beyond.”

Your lips met in a tender kiss, a delicate connection that spoke louder than words—time stood still as you shared the sweetness of the kiss, a moment that felt like a scene from a holiday romance movie.

The Christmas market had become a tapestry of shared experiences, laughter, and love—a night etched into your memories as a chapter in your forever love story.

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[ippinka]

This set of Wooden Sake Cups is handcrafted from solid Japanese cypress that won’t break and is resistant to stains.

[footballffbarbiex]

player: Alexis Mac Allister words: 727 request: Alexis Mac Allister - no pref - 250 - 500 - Hi Amy! Could I request going to a Christmas market with Lexi? Maybe she’s shocked that he’s never been to one even though he’s been in England a few years now and decides she must change that immediately! And he’s just all cute wondering around and looking at all the things and being amazed by it all. Thank you!

“I still can’t believe that you’ve never been to a Christmas market.” she says excitedly as she continues to navigate him through the crowd. 

“I just…never had the time or need to go, I guess.” Alexis replies, before taking a drink.

Stalls are as far as the eye can see with as many bodies crammed into this space as possible, making it feel like there's a football match present. Thankfully, no-one has noticed Alexis while the two of them have been walking around but there is still time for this to change. They both have a hot drink and a warm pretzel in their hands for now, though it’s not the first belly filler that they’ve sampled. Lexi had wanted to eat before heading out, something which she’d laughed off and assured him that he wouldn’t want to eat first. 

“You really have no idea what it’s like there, do you? Trust me, you’re going to want to sample everything when you get there.”

Armed with cash and cards, they’d set out by following their noses. Full roasted hogs are splayed out for the taking, large Bratwursts are smothered in onions and sauces and chestnuts are being roasted. Some stalls have endless beer and mulled cider and wine while others have endless cups of hot chocolate with lashings of cream and selections of flavouring syrups. 

Some stalls are offering Christmas treats like gingerbread cakes, gingerbread houses and people, nutella twist wreaths, and panettone is begging to be boxed up and taken home to be devoured. Tubs of brandy butter and cream are laid out with small pots for tasters. Poinsettias are freshly potted and wrapped up in big red bows, showing off their beautiful bright red leaves. 

Other stalls boast stocking fillers or small gifts. Some are wooden, others are handcrafted. There are candles and wax melts which smell absolutely divine and a small fortune may have been parted with as Alexis had looked at a different stall, in order to slip more than a few into her bag with the intention of melting a few tonight. 

She takes another bite of her pretzel and savours the warm, fluffy cinnamon sugary goodness that melts over her tongue, only for it to be washed down by some drink as soon as she’s swallowed the first mouthful. As she swallows, she looks up at her boyfriend who can’t seem to make up his mind where he wants to look next. So far, he’s behaved like a kid, excitedly pulling away from his parent figure to look at every stall and point to things far bigger than him such as inflatable winter decorations.

“Well,” she begins, “despite not having a need to come here, how are you finding your first Christmas market?” She wants to turn to look at him, walk backwards and face him while continuing to eat but she doesn’t want to risk walking into anyone and making a scene. And so she has to make do with looking up at him from beside him as she tries to keep up with his strides. 

“I’m enjoying it. More than I thought I would,” he says and finishes up his snack quickly and discards the napkin in the nearest trash can. He doesn’t immediately turn back to her, and instead, finds himself immersed in the stall that the bin is next to. He longs to pick them up and look at them properly, but the months of COVID routine has meant that he’s got used to looking with eyes and not with hands unless he wants to buy. 

They’ve already had to go back to the car and leave bags there because they were struggling to carry it all, but seeing his happiness at walking around and just being able to take everything in was making it all worthwhile. 

“Would you come again? Or could I tempt you to a real Christmas market next year, in say…Germany?”

“As opposed to this fake one?” He asks sarcastically and takes a drink of his drink. 

“This one is good when you don’t want to travel, but really, you want to go there.”

“First Winter Wonderland, then this and now Germany? You have big plans, my little one.”

“And you’re going to love it.” She replies, linking her fingers with his and smiles as he lifts their joined hands to his lips.

[nessiesspeakeasy]

Kinktober Day 18: Handcrafted (Age Difference)

Lori, alone for ten years, finds new life when a dragonkin, thirty years her junior, takes a strong interest in her.

~~~

Rated Mature. Original Dragonborn Character(s), Original Human Character(s), Age Difference, About thirty years difference, Two Dicks, Fluff, Condoms, telepathy.

You can read this on my AO3.

Lori sipped her morning coffee on her front porch, watching the townsfolk begin their day. They waved at the fifty-six year old as they walked by. Thomas stopped by like he did every day, bringing her her favorite donut.

“Morning, Lori. The market’s finally up.”

“Oh?” She looked around at her garden, full of different, exotic plants and flowers. “That’s wonderful. I’ll go visit them today, I need a refresher course on my flowers, a couple didn’t make it from last year.”

He waved her off and she ate her donut in peace while she finished her coffee. The day was bright and sunny and beckoned her out of her little house. She looked down the road and saw, in the distance, the canopy tops. She washed her cup and went into her bedroom, deciding to change into a sundress. The drawer of the dresser fell out, the wooden tracks completely shot. Lori almost dropped it, several dresses spilled onto the floor. She sighed and spent the next few minutes gently settling it back in and folding the dresses back in. She really needed to get a new one. She pulled the top half her hair back loosely and put on her favorite sun hat. She paused and went back to her small vanity on the dresser. She put on a simple necklace and matching earrings. Why shouldn’t she dress up to have fun?

The walk to the street market was short. The warm sun and light breeze filled her with joy. She greeted her neighbors who ran their own stand. She had a few mesh bags she put their fruit and vegetables in. Her favorite shop with exotic plants was her longest stop. She asked them about proper care again, wondering what she’d done wrong with her failed flowers. They suggested a different kind that she didn’t have yet. They were loaded into a cardboard box and she thanked them before moving on.

A sweet pastry in hand, Lori passed by an area with wooden furniture. She went over, putting the rest of the pastry in her mouth and wiping off any leftovers. She shifted the box of plants to her other side so she could touch the wood grain with a clean hand. There were tables, chairs, bed frames and dressers. Lori wandered over to those, finding one just a little larger and longer than her own. He stopped at her waist and had a larger mirror on top.

As she opened and closed the drawers, impressed at how smooth it was, a dragonkin came over to her. His spines and horns were brighter and smaller than older ones, but his horns were fully formed, meaning he was a young adult.

“Hello!” He said, towering over her by at least a foot. It would have been intimidating if his charm hadn’t softened his features. “Can I help you with anything? I can hold those flowers while you look. I’m Enox.”

She smiled at him, taken by his strong build and beautiful orange scales that shifted to a rich red. Why not? Why not let the handsome dragonkin help her out? “Thank you! I’m Lori.” She handed him the flowers. “These are beautiful pieces!”

“Thank you, my kin and I made these together.”

“Which one’s yours?”

He nodded to the one she stood at. “I’m very proud of this one.”

“You should be! It’s gorgeous. I was just thinking I need to replace my old one. The tracks are shot and the drawers are warped and having a larger mirror would be nice.” She eyed the price tag. It was underselling for the amount of precise craftsmanship. She had enough savings that she’d be able to afford it at the proper amount it should be sold for.

“I can’t think of a better person for it to go to, a beautiful piece should belong to an even more beautiful woman.” He grinned.

She laughed. “No need to butter me up, I was already going to purchase it.”

“I was only speaking the truth. How do you want to pay for it? Do you have anyone who can help you take it home?”

“Card and no, I’m afraid I’m all alone. I’m sure I can pay some of the younger boys to move it for me.”

“No, I can move it for you.”

Her brows rose. “Don’t you need to be here, helping customers instead of old women?”

“Do I want to be waiting around for someone to critique our work who has no experience in woodworking or help out a beautiful woman who appreciates art because she is art?” He clicked his tongue. “It’s a no brainer for me.”

Lori could feel herself blushing. “Well, if you insist!” It had been years since anyone had cared to flirt with her. Her husband had long since passed and any positive energy from her kids had moved with them out of state. The closest she got was Thomas’ donut.

He led her to the kiosk where she paid for the dresser, adding in a five hundred dollar tip.

Enox’s eyes widened, his tail began to wave around emphatically. “Fifteen hundred dollars! That’s too much!”

She waved him away. “I’m paying well under what it’s worth already. Your work is wonderful.”

The older dragonkin nodded humbly. “I admit I told him to undersell it since it’s his first piece he made himself. I’m glad to be proven wrong.”

He reached into the cash box for the keys. “I’m borrowing the truck, dad.”

His dad eyed him. “Don’t take too long.”

Enox scoffed and set to work moving the piece in sections onto the truck. Watching Enox lift everything himself, arms and back flexing with enormous strength was a sight that kept her attention. She tried to be subtle, only showing small glimpses of appreciation. He loaded up the flowers into the back seat and held the door open for her. She climbed in with minimal effort, which she was proud of.

She held the door open for him, which let her a little more openly marvel at his strength. He put the dresser together in her living room before taking a property look around her small home. “Wow! This place looks-”

“Like an old lady lives here?”

He shook his head. “Like whoever lives here loves it and takes care of it.” His tail patted the walls. “I can feel it.”

“Really?” She looked around. “Well, this place does have a lot of good memories to it, though I worry now that it’s just me, if I have enough love for it.”

“You do.” He winked.

She smiled, her heart warming.

He looked around. “So, where is this going?”

“Oh! Right! Uhm, right in here.”

Enox followed her into her bedroom. A queen sat in the middle, though, it had been ten years since anyone else had used the other side. In that time, she’d made the room all hers, which she left a twinge of embarrassment now that someone else was in it. She’d brought plants and little cottagecore decorations to make it feel whimsical, but it was suddenly feeling so childish.

“Excuse the decisions, I know it's childish.”

He gave the room a once over. “I think it’s nice. Very natural.”

She laughed. “Now, I know you’re just being polite!”

Enox shook his head, which almost scraped against the roof. “I love nature. I work with it everyday. It feels like a fairytale in here.” His eyes landed on the dresser. “Is that it?”

She looked at the sad excuse of a dresser. “Yes, it was my childhood dresser and it’s finally showing its age.”

Enox nodded, his hand feeling over the top. “What are you going to do with it?”

“I don’t know, really. I can’t think of anyone who’d want it, so if you’d like to call dibs, be my guest.”

His eyes lit up. “Yeah? I’ll absolutely take it! I can fix it up and bring it back to life.”

She smiled. “I’d love that.” She took a deep breath. “Well, I should empty these out for you. Would you like something to eat or drink while you wait?”

“I’ll have some coffee.”

In the kitchen, she heated up the water and cleaned out her french press. “How strong do you like it?”

“Very strong.”

She nodded and poured several spoonfuls, looking up at him. He leaned forward and took her hand in his and scooped out a few more. His hands felt sturdy around hers. They made eye contact and she felt herself flush. 

She let go of the scoop in the coffee bag, resting her hand in his. Her heart fluttered wildly. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Twenty-five.” His thumb rubbed circles in her palm. “Plenty old enough to find your company exhilarating.”

“That’s thirty-one years.” She wasn’t sure if he meant what she thought it did, so she sounded more amused than careful.

He hummed and brought her hand to his lips, kissing them. “I don’t mind if you don’t. I love being around priceless treasures.”

She laughed and huffed. “Oh for heaven sakes! You’ve had me blushing stupidly since we first met.” She patted her cheek with the back of her hand.

Enox grinned wide. “Yeah, I love how it lights up your face.”

She moved away and grabbed the pot of boiling water and poured it over the large amount of coffee to steep. “I suppose I should go clear out those drawers…”

“If you want to. I wouldn’t mind spending a little more time with you.”

Her breath came out light. “And just what did you have in mind?”

Enox went to her and gently removed her sun hat. “Well, not to be too bold, but I’d love to kiss you.”

She looked up at him, the last bit of reality clutching to her sense and reason. “You’re not just… Trying to make an old woman feel attractive are you?” Her words were breathy, scared and hopeful at the same time. She didn’t know what she wanted the outcome to be.

He held her hands, looking at them compared to his rougher ones. “Don’t short change yourself. You’re very pretty and very sexy. I don’t make a habit of flirting with everyone just to get a rise out of them. I like you and would like to get to know you.”

Even if it wasn’t true, what was one moment with a younger man? What did she have to lose? Nothing anymore, it was just her now. “Alright!”

He wasted no time kissing her. She gasped, gripping his arms to sturdy herself. She was moved to the wall where she was pressed against it. Her arms wrapped around his neck, dragging her to her tiptoes. He kissed her in a way that made her melt.

“Can I touch you?”

Her breath was shaking as she nodded. “Yes! Why not? Do what you’d like!”

A low rumble rolled up his throat. “Don’t say that, that’s dangerous.” His hands snaked under her dress, gripping her thighs and lifting her off the ground so she was more level with him. Her back rested against the wall as her legs wrapped around his waist.

“How?”

He kissed her. “Dragonkin can take that and make that mean anything. Sure, I can make love with you, but that could also mean move in or claim you…”

Her heart thundered against her chest at the idea of that. “I… I see…” Her legs were spread wide, pressed against his crotch. He kissed her chest, long tongue slipping under the neckline to her nipples. She gasped, feeling herself grow wet and wanting. “C-claim an old woman? Wouldn’t that… Wouldn’t that be taboo?”

Enox huffed out of his nose, the heat almost too much on her chest. His tongue flicked her nipple while wrapping around her breast. 

I love your age, Lori. Age is only a problem when one half can’t understand what any of it means. If we both want it and understand what it means, I don’t see why it should matter.

She realized he was talking to her through her mind, his mouth still occupied. Her body was electric, wanting more from him than he was already giving. She rocked her hips, the friction making her shiver. Enox’s tail slid under her panties, hissing in delight when her wetness coated the tip. It pulled her panties to the side. Between plating, two cocks poked through, rubbing against her slit. She moaned loudly, turning to putty. 

Enox made the same throat noise. So soft, so beautiful…

She gasped, her chest tightening at his kind words even as pleasure rippled through her.

Do you want me to put on a condom?

“I… I don’t have any…”

I do.

“I-” she moaned, rubbing against his cocks as best she could off the floor and pinned to the wall. Enox stilled, removing his tongue to kiss her neck. She blinked and breathed and finally nodded.

He set her down, making sure she was steady on her feet before pulling two condoms out. Lori watched. Away from his strength and intensity, she began to doubt his reason for pursuing this. Pursuing her. She glanced at the mirror of the dresser that waited for her. She was disheveled. She went to it, combing out her hair in controlled panic. What must she look like to him?

He turned to her, eyeing her through the mirror. He went to her, saunter intimidating, having much more confidence than Lori ever felt she had. His hands wrapped around her waist and he kissed her neck. She leaned into it, but some of her carefree demeanor had wilted.

“Would you feel more comfortable on the bed?”

She winced. “Is that too plain?”

“Nothing about you is plain.”

She laughed and began to feel the energy between them reignite just as bright as it once had. He led her to the bedroom, laying her on the bed. He kissed her, hands roaming to cup her breasts. Her legs spread wide to accommodate his large frame, feeling small under him. He rubbed against her as he kissed over her body, savoring her as best he could before she grew impatient and ground against him.

He pressed against her, slipping his bottom cock in while the top one rubbed against her clit. She moaned loudly, back arching. He pulled her dress down and sucked her breasts into his mouth. Enox’s tongue wrapped around it, squeezing and rubbing her nipple.

It wasn’t long before Lori was pushed enough to whisper. “Harder?”

Enox rumbled in his throat, picking up a pace that floored Lori. He did not hold back, thrusting hard against her. She became a mass of screams, gripping onto as much of him as she could, muttering “YES!” over and over. Their tongues collided as she came. It drove her dragonkin lover wild. His hands gripped her hips, securing her tighter to him as he thrust faster, forgetting himself. The bed rocked dangerously, but all either cared about was how close he was and how close she was to another orgasm.

He bellowed low in his throat, vibrating through himself to her as he took a final plunge and came, digging deep into her. She ground on him, grasping for her own orgasm one last time. She breathed, vision blurry. Enox’s head was pressed against her collar bone, quivering as she slowly stopped grinding on him.

You’re so beautiful.

The awe in his thought did not escape her. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to cry. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be wanted and she didn’t want this young dragonkin to see her become a blubbering mess.

He went to kiss her and then stopped and she knew she’d been had. “Did I do something wrong?”

The tears overflowed. “Goodness, no! Don’t mind me, really, just-”

“Please don’t.” His plea was gentle and almost sad. “You keep putting your age down like it makes you hideous.” He slowly pulled out of her. She sat up as he pulled her legs over his lap and rubbed them. “You’re the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen. I love your age, it makes you more beautiful to me than anyone else.”

Her chest tightened again and she laughed nervously. “You keep saying that and I’ll cry even more.”

“Is that why you’re crying?” He reached out a hand to her.

She took it, letting him rub the back of it with his thumb. She nodded. “It just got the best of me, that’s all… I didn’t realize how long it’d been since I’d been intimate. I didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

He kissed the palm of her hand. “I don’t think you did. It’s important to be open about these things. If you need a little space, we can have that coffee now?”

“Oh! I bet it’s cold!”

Enox got off the bed and helped her stand. He kissed her hand again, eyes watching her reaction. He grinned when it still made her flush.

They settled on the porch to enjoy their cups. Enox sat in a chair kitty-corner to her while she curled into a chair, tucking her legs to her side. As relaxed as she felt, she was still too vulnerable without her panties.

Enox sipped his coffee. “Thank you.”

“Of course. So, what are you going to say when they ask why you took so long?”

He grinned. “I figured I’d just tell them I met my future mate.”

She fell into a fit of giggles. “Stop it!”

“I love your laugh. I did tell you it was a dangerous thing to do to tell me to do what I like.”

She looked him over and found him serious. She frowned. “Wait… Wait, you’re serious?”

Enox leaned over the arm of the chair and rested his head on his hand. “I’ve never been more serious.”

She sputtered, wanting to bring up once more that she was thirty years older than him, but remembered the sadness in his eyes when she did. “Is… Is that allowed?”

He laughed. “I’m an adult, they can’t tell me what’s allowed and what isn’t. I know I want to spend more time with you and make you laugh and other things.”

Her face flushed again.

“Like that.”

[woodenbowls]

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Paincco Wood Measuring Cups Set of 4, Handcrafted with Wood Polish Finish, Natural Wooden Measuring Cups for Measuring Dry Ingredients for Cooking Baking, Easy to Clean

Link in bio / linktree (Amazon - wooden items)

[glowbugzz]

ash williams x reader

(this is my first time writing fanfiction, idk if this is any good or if this is a bad place to post but if you like it let me know, maybe i'll do more?) (this story takes place around a year before the events of Ash vs Evil Dead)

You awoke in the trailer to find your boyfriend Ash missing, gone to work another boring shift at ValueStop. Waking up alone made you feel lonely and cold…you got out of bed to find one of Ashley’s sweaters to keep you warm. On his side of the bed was a large pile of clothes, strewn about like a 15 year old boys bedroom. You chuckled at your boyfriends youthful, non-caring attitude. But then you remembered this week was your turn to clean the trailer and you groaned. While searching for a warm shirt to wear, your eyes drifted to something on his nightstand…a hand! Well, a wooden hand. It seems Ash somehow forgot his attachment at home. 

You abandoned the search and instead turned your focus to the hand. Picking it up gave you a weird feeling of comfort; it really wasnt much different than holding this particular hand when it was attached. You wondered what else might still be the same…thinking back on various nights and various situations in which the hand has been used on you. Giggling a bit like a schoolgirl you recalled the many, many times Ash has spanked you with his replacement hand. You felt the weight of his hand in yours, and couldn’t help but press the fingers to your face, imagining as if he were here right now. The things you would do…then you got an idea. What if you could have a little fun of your own, and make your boyfriend a little jealous? Getting out your phone you snapped a selfie of you holding his hand up. 

‘Forget something at home?’ 

He texted back almost immediately. Must not be working too hard, you thought, smirking. 

‘Had to rush this morning. Keep it safe for me, will ya? it was handcrafted in italy you know.’

You rolled your eyes at that, smiling. Who knows if the hand really was made of rosewood, let alone crafted by fine Italians. For all you knew he just stole it off a store mannequin. You admired his bragging and decided to just believe it was true though. 

Taking hold of his hand again and this time you placed it over your shirt, cupping one of your breasts with it. It felt a little weird since it wasn’t actually attached to Ash, but it still felt normal…and very nice, you had to admit. You could feel yourself easily getting aroused just by the feeling of his hand groping you. You decided to take your shirt off, to hell with the cold air conditioner air. It would only make your nipples more sensitive anyway, and that was always a welcome plus. You moved his hand to your bare skin now, the hand feeling cool as well (it is made of wood after all). Okay, selfie time. You posed seductively with his hand and quickly sent it.

‘Wish you were here ;) ‘

This time he didn’t text back. You felt a little miffed by this, but figured maybe someone at work got on his ass to actually do some work for once. He’s probably just trying to find somewhere else to go slack off, you thought. No reason why you couldn’t still have fun on your own. 

Taking his hand, you trailed it down your chest, down to your belly button, down to your thighs. You shed the last remnants of your clothing and was about to move his hand ever closer to your aroused sex– a car door slammed, making you jump a little. The door to the trailer burst open and there was Ash, already trying to frantically unbutton his shirt and kicking his shoes off.

‘What are you doing home?!’ you remarked, surprised, trying to cover yourself with the blanket a little. 

‘Staying here with you seemed a little more tempting than working my shitty job.’ Ash said, taking his work vest and shirt off and throwing them on the ever growing pile of clothes on the ground. He came over to where you were laying on the bed and grabbed his hand from you. 

You heard the familiar click of the hand returning to its owner and started to get even more excited knowing what was to come. 

‘Besides,’ Ash said, grabbing you close by the waist; ‘there ain’t nothing like the real thing, baby.’ 

[monsterfloofs]

A handcrafted clay bowl, dark red and glossy in it’s beautiful imperfection, filled to the brim with apples. As a pair of unsteady hands slowly become more seasoned on using a knife to pair the apple’s red speckled skin from its creamy underbelly. As the flakes of skin are sliced away, fingers shift to place the bare fruit against a wooden board. The quiet snick of metal against an old cutting board is a distinctive noise against the crickets that chirp outside. A quiet hum of outside sounds, that is a soft murmur that floats into the small cramped kitchen space.

The call of a crow overhead causes the apple peeler to pause their work and listen. Their hand is beginning to ache from straining muscles they previously didn’t know existed.

Apples sliced.

Apples diced.

The pieces dropped into a large pot to boil, with water, brown sugar and spices. A timer is set and it is left to cook quietly.

Attention turning to a tea kettle that begins to whisper merrily with plumes of steam, until the fire is switched off.

A cup of hot water is ceremoniously poured over a tea bag and a pool of honey at the bottom of the mug.

Settling down to a rectangular table covered with a tablecloth that sat just outside of the kitchen. The connecting room having big sunlit windows, to look out at the back porch and watch the field of warm grass.

[fantasyinallforms]

Okay you HAVE to do “First thing you should know…it was an accident.”

The last prompt of the March Madness Fotfics event! Thank you, @sunnyrosewritesstuff! It's fitting that the last prompt I do for this event is the one I went a little crazy with.

Also, find this and my other work on A03! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46128451/chapters/116124325

bagginshield {G} 3217 words

Title: Happy Accidents; part 1

There were many things you could say about Dis Durin. Chief among them was that she loved her boys with her entire being. She especially loved spoiling them whenever the occasion arrived, and this week there was an occasion. It was Fili and Kili’s 11th birthday, and Dis had a small catalog in front of her filled with places she could take them. The boys sat on either side of her, eagerly throwing their opinions into the mix. 

“Thorin! What do you think of this one?” Dis called to him as he walked inside from his shop. Thorin peered over the table to read what she was pointing at. 

“Plant and sip? Isn't that where you build terrariums and sip on wine? You might be about ten years too early for that one, sis.” 

“They have non-alcoholic parties.” Dis rolled her eyes. “What do you think, boys? You get to build a terrarium for a cactus or succulent.” Yells of excitement flooded the house for the next few moments as Dis got a clear answer to her inquiry. 

“Alright, we’re going next Saturday at 2pm. Thorin, make sure you’re free.” Dis commanded matter of factly. Thorin put down the cup of water he was drinking to cock an eye at his sister. 

“What makes you think I’m going? I have a black thumb. I’m good at building things, not growing them.” 

“It’s not about being good at it! The boys want to spend more time with you. Do it for them” As if on queue Fili and Kili abandoned their excited conversation about cacti and rushed Thorin’s legs. 

“Please, uncle! Please, please, please! It’s really hard to kill a cactus!” The boys refused to stop hopping around his legs until he eventually gave in. 

“Fine! I’ll go!” Thorin shouted, running his hands through his hair in defeat. He glared and rolled his eyes at the pleased self-satisfied smile Dis was now sporting. 

A week later, he was pulling up to a barn-style building with a wooden sign hanging from it called ‘The Sipping Plant. To the right of the building was a long greenhouse. It was a locally owned place, not a chain. That actually made Thorin a little happier. Being a small business owner himself, he understood the struggle. He waited for Dis to arrive, and they all walked in together. The inside had a distinctive boho vibe to it. The front seemed to be a store. There were shelves lined with pots, trinkets, and various plants. As well as some handcrafted wood-based items like birdhouses and pre-made planter kits. An older man wearing overalls and gardening gloves greeted them just inside.

“You must be the Durins! Go ahead and get settled in the back party room, and I’ll direct your guests through as they come in. You’re expecting 14 people total, correct?” The man asked. 

“Yes, 14. Are you the owner?” Dis asked. 

“Me? No, no. I just work here. Name is Hamfast Gamgee, but that's a mouthful, so you can call me Gaffer. Owner is Bilbo, and he’ll be leading the terrarium building” Gaffer led them to the back room. Beds of plants lined walls, and wide tables with matching wooden benches sat in neat rows facing another table on a raised platform at the front of the room. The room had been decked out in balloons and ribbons, and the chalkboard at the front read ‘Happy birthday, Fili and Kili!’ in pretty loopy handwriting. Strung between 2 very tall cacti was a banner that said ‘WELCOME.’

Dis sat them all at the front middle table, and they waited. Soon the room was filled with Fili and Kili’s friends and a few parents. The room was a buzz with voices, and Thorin was wondering how this mystery instructor was going to get everyone to quiet down. Just as he thought that, the lights in the room turned off, then turned back on again. The noise died down as everyone looked toward the door. In walked a short man (thought that was relative to Thorin, who was 6’6ft) with curly honey-brown hair. He wore jeans and a ruffled yellow shirt covered by a green gardening apron with large front pockets. He had a round face, an adorable button nose, and his ears were just slightly pointed. His mouth fell open as he watched the man walk across the room and take his position behind the table.  

He stopped in front of the chalkboard and surveyed the room before addressing everyone in a pleasant tenor voice. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but he could sware the man's eyes lingered on him just a tad longer than the others in the room.

“Welcome! My name is Bilbo. Raise your hand if it’s your first time here.” most of the room raised their hands. “Wonderful, thank you for being here. I know this is in celebration of two very special birthdays. So let's start with making sure our birthday boys stand out!” He approached the table they were sitting at and knelt down. “Looks like I have two queen bees today” He handed them a pair of bee antennas. The boys took them hastily and put them on their heads. 

“But wait! We’re not the queen! Mama would be the queen! Can we be prince bees?” Kili asked excitedly. Bilbo looked at Dis, who seemed a little flustered but gave a small nod. He returned to the table, got another pair of antennas, and handed them over. 

“Prince bees and their mom, the queen bee it is. But what about your Dad?” Thorin paled immediately

“I’m their uncle, not their dad.” Thorin quickly rushed to say. He really wanted this man to know that he was very much not taken. Bilbo nodded and returned to the front. He instructed everyone to get a drink from the coolers in the corners of the room and walked them through the different materials they would be working with. They each chose a pot and two succulents from the plant beds Bilbo pointed to. When they sat back down, Bilbo laid out rocks, a bucket of soil, and some decorations at each table. The rest of what Bilbo said was lost to him. Enchanted, he watched small, nimble hands dirty themselves in the soil and expertly transplant the succulent from the temporary pot it was in into the more permanent one in front of him. How could a person be this cute? 

“Alright, now it’s your turn. I’ll walk around if anyone needs any help.” Bilbo announced. Shit. He hadn't been paying attention to the actual words the man had been saying. He grabbed the little trowel in front of him and layered a big scoop into his pot. Before he could start taking the nursery pot off his succulent, Bilbo picked up his pot and dumped out the soil. 

“It looks like you might have missed a step. Rocks first for drainage, then soil.” Thorin failed to keep the blush off his face as he corrected his mistake. Eventually, they made it to the final decoration stage. They were instructed to decorate their pots and soil however they wanted. The boys seemed to be having a blast decorating theirs with little plastic dinosaurs and spaceships. The artist in Thorin liked this part a lot himself, although he was going for a less busy aesthetic than his nephews. He was deep in concentration when he heard a stool pull up beside him. Sitting on the stool, Bilbo was at eye level with him. From a distance had thought the man had brown or maybe even dark blue eyes, but now that he had a good look at his face, he saw that his eyes were, in fact, a deep shade of green. Deeper than emerald but far more mesmerizing.    

“That looks amazing! Most of my adult clients are usually pretty tipsy by this point in the process. Is that a crow?” Bilbo asked enthusiastically.   

“It’s a Raven. I’ve always really liked ravens.” Thorin replied sheepishly. 

“As you should! They’re smart, beautiful birds and more helpful in a garden than you would think. It's very detailed. I wish I could draw half as well as you.” Bilbo giggled, and Thorin couldn't help but smile at the sound of it. He felt like a kid that got the attention of his crush, and he didn't want to lose it.”           

“I���m good with my hands!.... I mean, it’s my profession using my hands… Building things! I build things. Mostly out of metal but also wood. So you could say I have a lot of practice being creative.” He wanted to bury his head in his hands in embarrassment. Luckily he was rescued from his torment by another table asking for help. 

“You should get his number after this!” Dis hissed in his ear, causing him to jump. Thorin shot her a slightly incredulous look. “I’ve known you my entire life. I can tell when you get heart eyes for someone, and you practically ogled the man on his way into the room.”

“Chances are he’s not even gay!” Thorin hissed back 

“I forgot your gaydar is hopelessly broken. There are two pride flags in this room, Thorin. Which means if he’s not gay, which I would bet money he is, he at least won't take offense to the question.” Thorin looked around the room to find the flags he clearly missed. One was sitting right on the desk in front of him, nestled in a jar of sharpies. The other took him longer to find, and it wasn't until he looked back at Bllbo that he saw the flag pinned clear as day to his apron. Well, it wasn't sure proof, but it definitely boded well.

 It had been a few years since he had tried his hand at the dating pool. He valued his space and his solitude and wasn't willing to give that up for just anyone. One look at Bilbo's, though, and he was considering it. Surely he was being silly. He had met this man an hour ago, but something about him radiated like sunshine through thunderclouds, and it made Thorin want to try.

 The formal part of the party ended, and the room was left to them for cake-cutting and unwrapping gifts. The boys were over the moon with all of it. Thorin was particularly happy with their reactions to the wooden swords he made and painted for them. Soon after the last package was unwrapped, guests started filtering out until, finally, it was just Dis, the boys, and himself. He took the antennas off the boy's heads and whispered to his sister.

“You get the boys home. I’m going to hang back for a moment.” Dis’s face lit up, and she pushed his nephews out of the door, sparing him a wink before she left. He wrestled his nerves and turned back towards the party room. Bilbo was wiping down the chalkboard and humming an unfamiliar tune. In all his nervousness, Thorin's approach set off an unfortunate chain of events. He went to step onto the raised platform and underestimated the ledge causing him to trip. In an attempt to break his fall, he absent-mindedly grabbed the saguaro cactus standing to the side of the chalkboard. This caused him to jump back in a jolt of pain, again, forgetting the ledge. Thorin fell backward off the raised platform and crashed into a table. The table's legs snapped under the weight of the impact, sending it and him to the floor with a bang. 

His head swam for a moment, and there was a light ringing in his ears as the world came back into focus. It was a very pleasant focus as Bilbo's face was now inches from his. 

“Mr. Durin, are you ok! Gaffer, help me get him up, then go grab the first aid kit!” Thorin felt his body get pulled into a sitting position, and finally, he fully regained his senses. 

“First thing you should know…it was an accident. Second thing is that I will definitely make you a new table,” Thorin mumbled, clutching his head. He winced when he realized one of his hands was covered in cactus spines. 

“I’m not worried about the table! Do you need me to call an ambulance?” Bilbo fretted. He was kneeling on the floor in front of Thorin, one hand supporting his back and the other resting on his chest.

“No, no, I’m sturdier than I look. I might need help getting these spines out of my hand, though.” 

“Yes, I can help with that. Here lean on me, and I can help you up.” Bilbo braced himself so that Thorin could lean on him instead of his injured hand. 

“No offense. Are you sure you can help me up? I’m twice your size.” 

“I’m stronger than I look, but to be safe, make sure you lean into your other hand.” It was a little bit of a struggle, but Bilbo was able to help him stand up and get seated on a proper bench. A short time later, Gaffer came running back in with a first aid kit in hand. Bilbo took it and pulled a chair to him so close that their knees interlocked. He held out his hand, motioning for Thorin to hand his over. When he did, Bilbo took it in a firm but gentle grasp. 

“I am so sorry, but this next part will sting a lot, and the pain will likely ache the more spines I take out. Are you sure you wouldn't rather have urgent care do it?” Bilbo met his eyes with a worried expression. Thorin put his hand on Bilbo's knee. 

“No, I’m fine. Like I said, I’m sturdy.” Thorin enjoyed the little blush that crossed Bilbo's face at the casual touch, but he retracted his hand, not wanting to overstep. Bilbo started plucking the spines out in silence. He wasn't wrong; the more spines came out, the worse it hurt. Sensing Thorin’s discomfort, Bilbo tried to strike up a casual conversation. 

“So, what were you on your way to ask me before all of this happened?” Bilbo asked, still concentrating on his hand. 

“I was returning the antennas, and I was going to say thank you. The boys had a lot of fun.” He winced as the last of the spines came out. “Is that all of them?” Thorin asked

“No, I have to get the fine hairs out next, then clean it. This next part won't hurt as bad, but it will feel weird. Bilbo pulled out a little jar of glue and coated Thorin’s hand in it, then placed a few gauze pads over it. “The glue will dry and pull the little spines out. So were you just coming to return the antennas, or did you want to ask me something…else?” Thorin’s head snapped up to look a the bashful smile spreading across Bilbo’s face. 

“Well, I should probably ask for your number. You know, just in case I decide to put my hand through another cactus. You do definitely seem to know what you’re doing.” Thorin tried to flash a cheesy grin, hoping his attempt at being smooth wasn't as horrible as it sounded in his head. To his delight, Bilbo started laughing. 

“I’ve had a lot of practice bandaging accidental cacti wounds. I’ve never had someone break a table, however, so I will get to add that to my list of firsts.” Bilbo looked him right in the eyes with a sweet smile and ripped the glue-soaked gauze off his hand in one clean motion. Thorin wrenched his hand back in a yelp of pain. 

“You said that wasn't going to hurt as much!” Thorin grumbled, rubbing his hand

“I lied, sorry! I needed you to not tense your hand. I’m sure it feels much better now. I just need to clean it with some peroxide, and we’re all done.” Bilbo gingerly wiped his hand down. When he was done, he gave the back of his hand a little pat and got up. Thorin was sad to see him move away. He was also sad to realize that Bilbo had never actually given him his number. Thorin pulled the car keys out of his pocket and scratched behind his head in a nervous gesture. 

“I appreciate the help, and again, I’ll make sure you get another table. I guess I should probably head out.” He started to turn around for the door when Bilbo called him back. 

“Wait! You just crashed into a table; there is no way you should drive home! Y-you could have a concussion or… something. Let me drive your car home, and Gaffer can follow behind us to take me back.” Thorin was not about to question getting to spend a little more time with this cactus-loving gardener. 

“I live about 30 minutes away so as long as you're sure. My truck is a stick shift. Is that going to be an issue?” 

“Not at all! I love driving stick!” Bilbo seemed oblivious to his double entendre, then turned a wonderful shade of scarlet. “I mean, I drive stick all the time! Wait, no I… just give me the keys….” Bilbo swiped the keys from his hand and quickly walked out the door, not making eye contact. Thorin stared after him with a lopsided grin and fond eyes. He had known Bilbo for all of two and a half hours, and he already wanted to kiss the man silly.

The car ride was comfortable. They listened to a few songs off their playlists and then swapped stories about their jobs and hobbies. All too soon, they pulled up to Thorin’s house.

 “Wow! Your house is way nicer than I thought it would be! Not that I thought it would look bad or anything! It just doesn't match up to the aesthetic I thought you would keep.”  Bilbo put the car in park and stepped out. Thorin did the same. He walked around to the side of the car Bilbo was standing on to continue the conversation.  

“That’s because my sister picked the house. Most of what makes me, me is in a workshop around the back. You should see it sometime. I know you do projects of your own I think you’d like it.” Thorin hung the second bid for more time together out in the open, hoping Bilbo would take it. 

“I think I’d like that,” Bilbo replied, blushing. Thorin held his breath as those deep green eyes looked through lases up at him. Bilbo stood comfortably in the shadow of his broad frame and heaven above; he looked like he was meant to fit there. The air hung heavy for a moment before Bilbo rolled up onto his tiptoes and planted a chaste kiss on Thorin’s lips. “I have to go but… you should call me!” He felt him slip something into the breast pocket of his flannel shirt, then turn and walk away. He stared in shock as he watched Bilbo’s pleasant form disappear into a yellow Volkswagen. When he checked his pocket a moment later, it was a business card for The Sipping Plant with a heart drawn around where Bilbo’s number was. 

[scarlet-ancunin]

Request for ian Wright you say well don't mind if I do. Ian x reader where R takes ian to their hometown for a visit to meet their parents. R also takes ian to their favourite places like ice cream shop, the mall, and even their super secret hideout in the forest covered by trees and a waterfall. (typical romantic place right)

Sparrow anon

HEADCANON TIME- Hello sparrow anon I'm sorry for a very long wait but here you go enjoy my friend

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Ian Visiting Your HomeTown

Ian was thrilled when you asked them to visit your hometown.

they agreed and asked when you planned on going. You would explain to them that Thursday afternoon you will leave and come back by Monday morning in time for Ian to be at Work but Ian didn't tell you they asked magic to come in on Tuesday.

Ian visiting your hometown would be a treat they would admire everything and anything they deem cute like the necklace they spotted and purchased it.

they would snap pictures of everything and take selfies with you it would be silly, romantic, or even cute.

you would take them to your favorite Ice Cream shop and Ian looked at the flavors and smiled "ooh they have cherry icecream" Ian was about to buy it when you stopped them from purchasing anything and simply asked them to give you a large cup with a double scope of your favorite and Ians before paying and walking outside the shop and sat on the little tables outside it.

you both would share the ice cream and feed Ian some of your flavors while they do the same to you. you and Ian Laugh together while walking down another path and would sing softly while walking down the street with you.

you turned towards the forest "well we are taking a shortcut to my parents but I do want to show you my secret place that i use to go to when i felt anxious, or down or needed ideas for something i was doing."

Ian nods "i would love to see it Y/n" you take their hand and run towards it they followed you almost tripping but you pulled them close and kissed them softly. "my falling for me all over again" Ian laughed "it would seem so, yet it also looks like you taking them road by purpose," they said softly before glaring at you playfully.

they reached the secret hideout that was right beside a waterfall and Ian took a moment to take a picture of it along with some selfies with you kissing you softly and the other with you both sticking your tongue out.

then you both head through the bushes and vines entering your secret place, it pretty much had everything that spoke to you growing up in here and Ian loved it looking around at everything you had on the walls and books scattered on a wooden table that seemed to be handcrafted.

"you made this?" you smile sheepishly "yes love I did it's not great but it does get the job done haha"

Ian shakes their head gently "no no no, I really like it actually it suits you even" you laugh and grabbed your scrapbook to show Ian all the little things you did from the age you found this place until a few years ago."

after about an hour spent in there where Ian would help you create a new memory in the scrapbook before leaving to head toward your parent's home.

"I hope you're hungry because my parents both like to overdo it on the cooking" you laughed slightly embarrassed. "oh don't worry I don't mind I'm famished."

Just as you said the food smelled amazing and dinner was almost done, But they were very happy you brought a friend over but you didn't tell them that Ian was your lover yet.

you dropped the bombshell at the dinner table and they both sighed in relief. "that's good I thought you were going to be alone for the rest of your life you were always quiet." your father said laughing

you pout glaring "ah really don't embarrass me now father"

Your mother giggles softly "but you two are a very cute couple and Ian darling you look like that smarty pants"

"M-mom please" you cover your face and Ian smirks "I am Mrs. Y/l/n" she smiled proudly "good I know my baby is in good hands" "they are in very good hands" Ian replied back.

Your father spoke up laughing suddenly "more ways than one I'm sure" Ian almost spits their drink out and blushes lightly.

"come on d-dad please besides I'm not always the-" Ian spoke up quickly "Mrs. y/l/n do you n-need help washing these plates?"

your mother nods "yes sweetie thank you" Ian collected the plates and followed your mother out of the dining room and into the kitchen.

after everyone turned in for the night Ian was hugging you close "well that certainly went well love"

"it did and I'm happy it did because you're the most important person in the world to me"

Ian blushed and kissed your cheek "Well good because i should be the only person" Ian laughed along with you and you both ended up falling asleep in each other's arms.

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Taglist: @justaproudslytherpuff , @sherazyjade , @adryanscott , @sugakookieswithacupoftae16 , @happilydangerousworld , @harlekin6 , @supermegapauselouca

[cha-melodius]

#14 with lokius!

(You were so fast with this one! 14. “Are you telling me we’re stranded?” and this is actually canon-verse and Christmas-themed. Ah, the joys of the multiverse.)

Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

Read it on AO3 (G, 1.3k)

As soon as they step through the time door, Mobius knows something’s wrong. Perhaps it’s the way that they’re supposed to be arrive in the middle of summer, and the temperatures they’ve walked into are currently sub-freezing. Maybe it’s the sad chirp his tempad gives before it displays an ominous message he's seen only once before, then shuts down.

“What do you mean, we can’t leave?” Loki says, his voice high and strained, when Mobius explains the situation. Bugs happen in any code, and his tempad just needs to undergo a hard reset and it’ll be good to go. Too bad that usually takes a minimum of six hours. “We’re stranded?”

“Well, that’s putting it a little dramatically,” Mobius tries. “It’s more like a… temporary setback. Anyway, there are worse places to get stuck for a few hours.” He looks around at the surroundings in which they find themselves: a small city, somewhere in southern Germany by the locals’ vernacular, approximately the mid-1990s, and apparently midwinter. Well, not just midwinter. Mobius smiles. “Kinda festive, really.”

“I’ve no interest in frivolous Midgardian religious festivals,” Loki sneers dismissively.

“Why, ‘cause they’re not worshipping you?” Mobius counters.

“If they were, they’d throw a better party than this.” Loki frowns at the little wooden huts, each festooned in lights and garland, peddling food and handcrafted gifts. “Where’s the wine? Where’s the orgy?”

Mobius splutters through a laugh, feeling his face heat despite himself. It’s not like he hasn’t seen what Loki used to get up to when he’d deign to grace some Norse bacchanal, but honestly, some days it’s hard to believe this is the same man. God. Whatever. It’s different now that he really knows Loki, is all.

“Can’t help you with the latter, but former…” Mobius gestures with his head down the first aisle of the Christkindlmarkt. “Follow me.”

Loki does follow, but not without further protest. Much protest. Can’t they go somewhere else, why can’t someone from the TVA come get them, it’s getting dark out, it’s snowing, and most of all, it’s freezing.

“You know, I never understood that. Shouldn’t you be immune to the cold?” Mobius asks as they walk.

“Not in this form,” Loki huffs, cupping his hands in front of his face and blowing on them.

“Well it’s not going to get warmer any time soon, so you better conjure yourself something.”

Loki harrumphs at that, but a moment later, after eyeing a group of bundled up Germans, he shrugs a massive puffy coat in an eye-searing shade of green into existence around his shoulders. About the nicest thing Mobius can say about it is that it does fit in with the fashion of the time pretty well.

“What about you?” Loki asks suddenly, his eyebrows knitting together in the middle.

“I’m touched it occurred to you, but I’m fine,” Mobius answers. “I run warm.”

“Hmm,” Loki hums skeptically, then holds one hand out in front of him and twirls the other over the top of it, conjuring a thick, wooly scarf. He reaches out, tugging Mobius to a stop by the arm, and loops the scarf around Mobius’s neck before stepping close to weave the ends together securely.

“Uh, thanks,” Mobius says, relieved that the cold has already rendered his cheeks quite pink. “C’mon, the wine will help too.”

As predicted, it doesn’t take long for them to come to a stand selling steaming mugs of glühwein. Mobius fishes around in his pocket until he finds some TVA-issued AllCash—guaranteed to take on the appearance of the local currency where you find yourself in the timeline—and hands over some of what are now Deutschmarks to the vendor. When he turns back, Loki is cradling the mug in both hands and taking a tentative sip. For a moment he looks utterly delighted, until he sees Mobius looking and tries to school his expression back to something a lot more indifferent. It’s too late, though, Mobius saw him, and he can’t help but laugh.

“That good, huh?”

“It’s adequate,” Loki sniffs.

They kill a fair amount of time just wandering around the market. Despite his professed lack of interest, Loki has a lot of opinions on the various shops, predictably favoring those offering shiny baubles and glittering jewels. As the evening goes on he starts running off for stretches of time, distracted by this and that, sometimes returning with some kind of snack; Mobius doesn’t ask how he’s paying for them. He should probably be more concerned about the disappearing act, but Loki has proven himself time and time again, and Mobius trusts him even if he shouldn’t. This break might have been instigated by external forces, but he’s going to enjoy it nonetheless.

On one of Loki’s excursions to who knows where, Mobius comes across a little snake tie pin with emerald eyes, finely wrought in gold. He barely stops to think before he’s buying it, even though it certainly does not qualify as a justified use of AllCash, even though he has no idea when he might give him such a thing, even though it’s probably highly inappropriate. He must be smiling to himself as he slips it into his pocket, because Loki notices when he returns a few minutes later.

“What are you grinning about?” Loki asks suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Mobius says quickly. He narrows his eyes at Loki in turn, who’s sipping yet another mug of glühwein. “How many of those have you had, anyway?”

Loki shrugs. “Does it matter?”

Mobius wants to say yes, but he’s hard pressed to care at the moment. Especially when they stroll down another lane of the market and Loki loops an arm through Mobius’s seemingly without thinking about it. It’s fine. It’s just the wine, loosening him up and making him a little more affectionate than he’d normally be. That doesn’t mean Mobius isn’t going to enjoy it while it lasts, as questionably selfish as it might be. That goes double when they end up standing by the massive Christmas tree at the central square, admiring the twinkling lights and shining garland. The wind has picked up now that the night has finally settled in, and Mobius can’t quite suppress the shiver that works its way down his spine. Loki notices that, too, though Mobius hadn’t really expected him to.

“Stubborn man,” Loki mutters from behind him, and then abruptly Mobius is being enveloped in Loki’s massive coat, with Loki still inside it. Loki hooks his chin over Mobius’s shoulder as he wraps his arms around his waist, pressing against Mobius’s back, and the sudden warmth is so welcome that Mobius briefly forgets to feel overwhelmed by the physical contact and the fact that Loki is currently wrapped around him like a blanket.

“How are you so warm?” he mutters.

“I’ve been wearing a coat,” Loki retorts. “Maybe you’ve heard of them? They’re quite useful in winter environments.”

“Quiet, you.”

Loki laughs quietly, his warm, wine-spiced breath washing over Mobius’s cheek, and Mobius tries very hard not to feel entirely too much about all of this. That’s a lost cause when he turns his head, which is definitely a mistake, because it brings their faces entirely too close together. This is definitely inappropriate, especially when Loki’s eyes drop to his lips and he somehow manages to sway even closer.

Then the tempad chirps in his pocket, and Loki jerks away, taking his tempting lips, his coat, and all his warmth with him. Mobius sighs. “Reset’s done.”

“Oh,” Loki breathes. “Already?” Mobius might have laughed at his 180 in attitude not long ago, but now it’s just kind of depressing. He forces a smile and makes sure their destination is input properly into the device before he manages to look up at Loki again. “We’re back in business,” he confirms. “You ready to get out of here?”

He must be imagining that Loki looks like he wants to say no, because a moment later he dissolves his coat into the ether again and tugs on the front of his TVA-issued jacket to straighten it. “Of course.” He pauses, like he wants to say something else, then shakes his head. “Back to work?” “Back to work.”

[lurking96]

Note how poor people are regularly portrayed as dirty or wasteful (buying 6 Dollar lattes daily in non reusable cups) (buying Tons of cheap shit to fill their homes) as not being able or "intelligent" enough to budget. As those being portrayed as reasons for them being poor. Or acting like poor people are responsible for stuff like Shein (as if you have disposable income for multiple clothing hauls every month).

And then you get "buying this artisan fairtrade soymilk chocolate in a handcrafted wooden Box is doing good for the Environment". While rich people in their mansions drive around their decorative trucks, their yachts, their private jets to their multiple vacations.

While a poor person uses a train, a bike, the bus or their feet to get places and is priced out of the "Environment friendly" food and ware options.

Not everyone wastes the same amount of resources.

[awlfatherwoodcraft]

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[wooden-gift-company]

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[atplblog]

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