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velvetures · 1 year ago

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Vulnerable pt.1?

A/N: A not-so-little thing I've had for a few weeks, and wanted to see if a part two was something anyone would be interested in reading. If so, please let me know. Summary: You try and get Ghost to relax after a harsh mission and find a bit of a quiet moment. T/W: not proofread :)

Bad intel led to you and your Lieutenant being nearly hunted down and killed by a not-so-small group of arms dealers who caught on quickly to the pair of foreigners lingering just a little bit too close to their sheltered storage garage right in the middle of a market district in the South East. The task force assumed sending in an entire squad would be overkill just for some simple recon information and decided that you and Ghost would be the perfect pair for the job. ‘In and Out…’ Price had said quite offhandedly, sliding the prepared information in two files across the table to you. Only Price’s sources hadn’t double-checked if the area was secure enough for them to enter without full backup on standby. Not necessarily a lethal kind of mistake when bringing you and the Lieutenant into the equation, but there were too many close calls and stray bullets that were clearly heard for either of you to feel super confident in getting away unscathed.

Your only savior was a small farmhouse that had been recently abandoned due to the illegal and dangerous activity that had been surrounding the small city. Modest in size with two bedrooms and running water. Perfect for a makeshift safe house to keep the trackers off your asses until an extraction could be arranged and put into motion. Contrary to belief, the 141 didn’t have the bottomless pit of resources everyone believed they had at their disposal. Which included access to evac and trained air-support teams. This wasn’t a big mission that had a lot of working parts and multiple organizations involved that had enough liquidated funds to through out for a helo and heavy gunners to rescue two operators from the middle of who-the-fuck-knows-where.

That means with busted equipment, inoperable comms, hardly enough ammunition to fight out of a wet paper bag, and zero way of knowing when and if you’d be rescued, there was nothing left to do but try and relax in one of the most difficult predicaments. It left you searching through cabinets for maybe some kind of food to keep the both of you while Ghost did one of his favorite things. Pacing the house from window to window looking for the slightest bit of movement. The trouble being, there wasn’t anything for at least two miles in any direction. The people who owned this place were farmers of some sort, and had placed their home right in the middle of crop fields that gave a very advantageous sightline. While that information gave you quite a bit of comfort, it was not effecting Ghost positively in the slightest.

Your relationship with the Lieutenant was complex, to say the least. When you were first introduced it was for a succession of short co-op missions that were nothing if not brief and very impersonal leaving you with more questions than answers about the man who stayed hidden under the mask. Through some talks that you hadn’t been privy to being in the room for, John Price decided that your skills would be more useful to Task Force 141 than for the U.S. Division of Clandestine Service and offered you a position that you couldn’t possibly decline.

By day-in and day-out contact with Ghost, you got a lot more comfortable with him and learned much of his little idiosyncratic behaviors. Maybe a little too well…. He didn’t particularly act much differently towards you in the grand scheme of things, but something in you felt like trust had been developed to where he could depend on you when the situation called for it.

“Go hit the rack, I’ll take first watch.” He called gruffly from the living room where he had moved a chair from the kitchen to sit facing the front door head on with his MP5 resting lazily on his chest.

You couldn’t help but notice just how damn tired he looked under all that gear and through the black smeared around his eyes. He couldn’t be carrying less than one hundred pounds on him right now; even sitting in that chair with it wasn’t a good enough solution. Let you take a moment or two for yourself, stripping out of your tac vest and heavily weighted gear to drop it on top of the kitchen counter with a little grunt. Two days ago you both got the luxury of sleeping, and since then it’s been nothing but being on the run.

This would be the safest place for you that wasn’t in the belly of an evac bird, and the thought of Ghost not taking the time to sleep sat in your mind like a lead sinker. Leaning against the doorway and watching him for a long moment, you start having thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. Ones that normally wouldn’t surface if you’d been able to separate working with Ghost from the more personal aspect of literally sharing almost every part of your life with him. Thoughts about how you could make him feel better… even if just for the night. That no one was around for miles and whatever happened could safely stay between the pair of you.

By utter carelessness of your position with the team or lack of fear about how the Lieutenant might respond, you walk into the living room and kneel down right in front of him with your fingers reaching out to unlace his dusty boots. Off instinct alone, you expected and watched as his foot flinched away from you. His whole body jumps and stiffens at the contact and sight of you kneeling on the floor. He quickly pauses and collects himself, taking several moments before his gravelly voice breaks the silence.

“What’re you doin’ Sergeant?” His eyes grew heavy and showed more expression than the rest of his massive body as they flashed with confusion and a little swell of anger. That aloofness didn’t hide that slight guardedness of something that made him uncomfortable in one way or another.

“I’m perfectly capable of takin’ care of my fuckin’ self.” He adds with zero discernible sign of either offense or gratitude. You can’t help but smile tiredly, feeling like you’re attempting to soothe a feral wolf into letting you pull it’s paw out of trap.

“I never said you couldn’t L.T.,” You reply gently, reaching back to start unhooking the laces from their claws on his left foot. “Just thought you couldn’t use some affection.” Smirking to yourself, you can’t help but think something this small being considered ‘affection’ didn’t fit anyone save for Ghost. He was just too hard to approach. Walls so thick and tall that it would take someone with patience beyond that of a human to break through and see what rested behind all of that brash posturing and icy disposition.

“You know affection is something I’m averse to,” he utters, watching yet making no effort to stop you. “What you’re doin’ is unnecessary.” A small sound close to a growl escapes from behind the mask when my hand reaches to the back of his leg to help aid my effort of pulling his boot off.

Chuckling softly and sitting the boot down at your side you respond, “I know you don’t like affection,” You’re already working on the other one, purposefully moving slowly as not to overwhelm or spook him. “That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it, L.T..” You can’t help but look up at him almost exhaustedly yet still trying to be reassuring.

“M’fine without it.” He spits out quickly, looking away from your face back down to your progress on the laces, his masked face otherwise unreadable. “Didn’t ask you for this shit, Sergeant.” Tinged with an undercurrent of irritation his deep voice sounds near the bridge of turning to anger.

“Mothering me isn’t in your best interest.” He growls low and threateningly in your face as he bends down to grab the boot sitting next to you and giving it a quick look of observation before sitting it back down closer to him. You just finish taking off his other boot and sit it down next to the other without much more of a verbal fight and put a hand on his thigh to steady your sore legs as you get back up to your feet.

“I’m younger than you Ghost, I can’t mother you.” You reply, holding out your hand for him.

He doesn’t make note or stop you from using him to help yourself up, however, Ghost follows your movements carefully… closely. He’s doing everything in his power to hide his emotions, but there’s still a faint twitch of his lips when he looks down at his boots sitting at his side. You’d done something very unusual, and he knew berating you was what he should’ve done. Yet a flinch of a smile was what really moved Ghost’s mouth. It’s gone before it even surfaces, pushed down by the sight. of you holding out your little hand in front of him. The sounds of his deep breathing fill the quiet house as you both sit there unflinching of each other. The Lieutenant shifts in his chair, readjusting his rifle on his chest.

“Go to bed. It’s late.” His repeated command felt softer now. Wavering a bit with you hand still held out and your fingers wiggling a little.

“Come on,” You hold steady and patient.

Reward comes in the form of feeling Ghost’s heavy and large hand falling into yours and gripping just hard enough to allow you the phantom sensation that you’re actually helping him up from the chair, hearing a short grunt as his back straightens up. Without explanation, you lead the Lieutenant through the small house back towards the only bedroom in the house with an actual bed left behind by the owners, pulling him to the center of the room and turning around to face him.

“Put your arms up for me.”

“Excuse me?” Ghost’s frown can be heard from behind the mask. Despite his apparent bewilderment, he hesitantly obeys, extending his arms above his head with an exhale of a tense breath, looking down at you with dark and questioning eyes. “What are you doing now?”

You just smile and hum to yourself softly, reaching out to begin unclipping and unzipping the sections of his tac vest holding it on his upper body and the multiple ammo belts. Carefully draping them over you shoulder as you release his body from them one by one. Seeing the way Ghost’s body sinks into itself with the weight being pulled off after days without rest. You feel his eyes scan over you, over your hands finding ways to take off his gear for the first time in your life, feeling your way through sunch an unusual yet careful act.

“Bein’ fuckin’ ridiculous…” He growls, covering up the feelings of not being so concealed by barking at you a little.

“Shhh.” Your hush does enough to stop his quiet and brooding complaints.

Long enough for you to kneel back down at his feet and work at the thigh straps over his pants and even remove the ankle holster you’d left alone while taking off his boots. He doesn’t resist this part, just watching you undress him bit by bit with half a mind questioning just what had happened for you to start acting so strangely. You’d always been sweet. Much nicer than your job allowed for. Yet even this was quite off the edge of the character Ghost had built for you over the years. This felt downright intimate for just two operators to be doing.

Then again your shared situation wasn’t exactly one of professionalism at this point. You’d been improvising for nearly a full day just trying to stay alive. Once back on your feet, you take hold of his hand again, this time with a little less caution since you’d already touched him there, and begin pulling at the fingertips to slide his sand and dirt-cakes gloves off. Even seeing his bare skin under his gloves be seen in the dim lamplight of the house, Ghost doesn’t do more than flex his fingers once you’ve rid him of the stiff material.

Purposefully avoiding his mask, you get Ghost down to nothing more than boxers and a t-shirt, even with his help at certain parts without him growling more or acting like you were irritating him. While he still gave off a feeling of all-around grumpiness and more than a little confused as hell, you paid it no mind as you led him towards the edge of the bed and pointed to it with a short yet polite command for him to ’sit’. Right away you noticed his hesitation and the way that his shoulders and arms tensed, his attention solely on you, flashing between your eyes and mouth like he was trying to reassure himself that he’d heard you correctly. But with one small tug on his hand, he turns around and sits on the bed with his feet resting on the floor and his arms braced on both sides of him a little stiffly.

“Now what?” His voice held a bit of rasp to it as he tracked your movement from his side, seeing you climb up into the bed and position yourself on your knees behind him. The close proximity didn’t go unnoticed by the Lieutenant as he cleared his throat, once again interrupting the calm silence in the house. His tension filled the small space between you, heating the gap of air, almost electrifying it.

“Just relax Ghost.” Easily touching his shoulders, you begin working your palms flat against the slopes of his muscled neck.

Purposefully but gently rubbing at the stiff cords of muscle and introducing the sensation to him as easily as possible in the case that it was a bit too overwhelming for him all at once. You knew you’d pushed the boundaries with him much further past anything you’d expected to achieve in one night. But now that he was sitting here in front of you, it was hard not to smile brightly that he was trusting you so much. Allowing your hands to be on him. Accepting that you had positioned the both of you in a very vulnerable position that could lead to a lot more violent options than affectionate ones. Torture and nightmares had given more than a fair share to Ghost, yet he was patiently staving off his own clear hesitation so that you could play out whatever this was turning out to be.

Your command went unacknowledged just like all of Ghost’s from earlier had; His breathing steadily slowing down into a deep and rich, relaxed sort of rhythm. Power of your hands and calming attitude worked faster than you anticipated, leaving the massive man sitting between your thighs begin to release. Tension falling out of his body not only under your hands but by sight of his jaw loosening. You’re even lucky enough to spot him trying to take glances at you from the corner of his eye, only to look back ahead since you were in quite the blindspot. Taking your thumbs in a sweeping motion from the edges of his shoulders inward, you apply pressure on the back of his neck and experimentally reach higher up under the hem of his mask. A dangerous game to play. Rumbling sounds of appreciation filling your ears are better than any sort of medal you could earn or bet you’d ever cash in. His head rolls back slightly with each small circle of your thumbs and fingers, pushing against you. Silently asking for more pressure.

“Feel good?” You ask at just a whisper, not wanting to disturb the warm sort of feeling the room has right now by speaking too loud.

Under the safety of his mask, Ghost’s mouth curves into a smile hearing you. He rolls his head back again, arching slightly to accommodate your small hands struggling to find good purchase to keep working at the intensity he’d been hinting at. A much less controllable sound escapes his mouth when you begin working at a very sore spot he didn’t even know was present right at the base of his skull.

“Keep going,” His sleepy-sounding mutter makes your chest ache.

Grinning at the feeling of his harsh accent and sudden domestication you work away diligently down his back carefully and methodically so as to not miss a single thing. And while it’s not necessarily going to help him much, you go ahead and use your fingernails to gently scratch up and down. It’s then a groan interrupts your focus and you see Ghost shift on the edge of the bed. Believing you’d found the end of your time, you leaned back on your heels and expected him to get up and leave you in the bedroom alone. Watching him tug at his t-shirt and pull it over his head to toss it somewhere across the room was how you were told that Ghost did indeed want more. Only his shirt was getting in the way of something he wasn’t getting.

Hearing him give a deep sigh when your fingertips returned to his now bared skin gave you a rush of adrenaline and nearly caused you to wiggle happily that you’d been able to share this with Ghost. He leans back into you a little more, letting your hands and arms take more of the weight as he groans out;

“You’ve done this before.”

“Yeah, but not for a long time.” You answer, eyes smoothing over the muscles rippling as your hands work at them.

“You’re good,” He grunts, closing his eyes and zeroing in on how to focus his attention between your small hands working so efficiently and the conversation he’d begun. “How’d you get so good at it?” His head turns a little, trying to get at least one good look at you. He keeps shifting now, allowing him to keep you just in the edge of his periphery.

“Had a good teacher for a few years,” You answer, working in tight circles over a large ball of muscle fibers all collected just at the edge of his shoulder blade, earning another growling sound from the Lieutenant.

“Teacher? When?” He asks, giving a slow release of a deep breath giving a short indication that the muscle you’d been working to release was getting a bit uncomfortable. Pulling back for a moment just to give him and your hands a break, you hear him make a noise then lean back a little further, pressing his back against you almost like a dog wanting to be pet more.

“Don’t stop.” He requests in a husky tone. You chuckle aloud, returning your hands and taking a less aggressive approach by smoothing your palms over him in less-than-planned patterns, just enjoying feeling his tattooed and scarred skin under your hands as you think about how to answer him.

“A woman in London taught me,” you start, using your nails again on his skin softly. “In the year or so between my U.S. military discharge and acceptance into the task force with you.” You see the effect of your touch on Ghost as it takes him longer to respond and the way he keeps leaning more and more weight back into you, unable to keep himself from subconsciously trying to get closer. Wanting more whether he’d ever admit it or not. There’s no mistaking it between either of you, he’s enjoying this.

“I assume she was special to you.”

It was your neighbor just across the hallway from you. An older woman named Sarah. Eccentric in modern times, you’d always believed she must’ve been a force to be reckoned with when she wasn’t hindered by an aging body and an even more ailing mind. A massage therapist by trade, and a pianist by heart there wasn’t much that Sarah could accomplish without someone helping her once she became limited in movement living on the eighth floor of the apartment building you shared. Back then you didn’t have much in the way of contacts after leaving the country, and it led to a friendship with the old woman living across from you. Sharing stories, eating dinner together, grocery shopping together when she felt like going out, and trading some skills between each other. After telling Ghost this much with your fingers tracing out letters and shapes over his back, you can sense he’s listening carefully. And Ghost is feeling a slight fuzzy sensation building in the back of his brain, spreading out in a warm wave down to his fingertips and toes.

“She taught me massage since at the time I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with my life.” Your head falls to the side, examining how the lamplight shines on ghost and deepens the already significant definition in his physique.

Ghost falls against you even more, and this time he lets his head fall back against you. Trying to counterbalance his weight and keep both of you from falling backwards with just him limp he’s becoming, you wrap on arm around his neck and hold his head in the bend of your arm. He gives another sigh, and settles against you heavily. He. looks at you in silence out of the corner of his eye listening to your explanation.

“Why was she your only friend?” You can’t help but chuckle at his question, resting your chin on his opposite shoulder and bringing your other arm under his to begin scratching and rubbing at his chest, feeling deep and puckered scars littering nearly every inch of him.

“I didn’t know anyone else. And you know me well enough to know that I’m not exactly extroverted.” You smile, tracing lightly up and down his well-defined arm. Ghost couldn’t be more comfortable laid against you.

“Sorry to hear that.” His voice low and husky with his mouth so close to your ear. “She must call or ask about you…”

You shake your head. “No. She died just before I joined you all. Her mind was… failing her. And there was some kind of accident in the middle of the night The police told me she was likely trying to get to the bathroom and fell. She apparently died on impact… they didn’t say what, but I think her head hit something.” You explain quietly. “And you and I both know that means lights out. So she didn’t suffer.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he answers as softly as he can manage after hearing the darker part of your happy memories. “How did it become… intimate, like this?” He asks, nodding to the way you were leaned up against his back with your hand tracing over every inch of him that you could reach. The longer you’ve both let this go, the more boundaries get pushed further out of reach, making it hard for either of you to really know where it could end.

You smile with a blush creeping up your neck onto your cheeks, thankful you’re somewhat hidden out of sight. “This isn’t really what she taught me,” You mutter a bit quiet. “When i was massaging you… yes. That I got taught. But this, it’s… just me.”

Out of your sight Ghost’s face flushes slightly as well, his cheeks a warm rose-color. You’re touching him in a way that he’d never expected. But hearing that you’re not just doing it for… relaxation, it’s a heavy but welcome thought. And Ghost can’t help that his body reacts to it with chills raising all over his skin despite the house being perfectly warm. He lets out a deep breath focusing on your words, repeating him over just to ensure that you’re not saying it one way and him interpreting it differently due to your hands being all over him, making him feel so good. Mind racing, heart pounding, he truly realizes just how vulnerable he is under you at this moment.

“I can stop if you’d like?” You offer, preparing to move away from him.

“No,” His hoarse voice gives away his sudden dry mouth. No matter how much your touch is affecting his body, he’s not willing to stop you right now. You’ve crossed into a level of trust that he can’t think to make you abide by anymore. It’s a foreign feeling for him, but he wants to push through it. Hoping he can feel more of you if he just holds on a little longer to this.

“Don’t stop."

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tobylix-blog · 4 months ago

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Gratitude - Aragorn x f!Reader

Content & Warnings: platonic, fluff(ish) Word count: 3.6k Summary: Aragorn returns to become a king and pay back for the kindness of a merchant's daughter, whom he has met during his past visit to Minas Tirith.

You open the store once again. The city is wrecked. The siege was barely three days ago. But the market is the first place to come back to life. As long as it's loud and busy the city lives. Your storage is filled. By some miracle no fire or stone has touched your street. You fix the door open and hang out a long piece of cloth - a sign that the store is working. You turn back to tidy up the shelves behind the counter when someone steps in. Judging by the sound of voices several people come in at once.

"A minute, gentlemen, I'm almost with you," you say over the shoulder, not quite looking at them yet.

The voices are quiet, and for a moment all is silent in the store. Then a loud thud comes. You turn to see a whole bag of coins on the counter as a rich, melodious voice sounds from among the men.

"My friends will need the finest clothes for the coronation and so will you, miss".

Your eyes slowly rise from the counter to the man speaking. His familiarity strikes as a low blow. His appearance changed drastically and yet hardly noticeably. He stands proud and is wearing fine clothing with the White tree of Gondor on it, but the gaze of his gray eyes is as piercing as before.

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The street is busy with people. Morning rush in the market doesn't fade until noon when the sun gets just too high. Through dozens of conversations unfolding between merchants and customers bargaining over the goods, old friends who suddenly met in the middle of chaos and servants figuring out how to get it over with sooner, you hear a distinct male voice saying. "Get lost, outlander! Northerners are out of their mind if they think I will sell them even a piece of shit! Damn rangers."

You recognize the voice. The trader from the armory a few doors down the street. As threatening as he appears, he isn't usually that hostile to customers. From your point of view, two steps above the ground you can only see the dark hair of the man he scolds. Man is saying something back but his voice you can't quite hear. Instead a loud response comes from the inside of the armory.

"Put your silver up your thin arse! Get away from my store before I put a hammer through your head," this time it's the smith himself. You shiver a bit hearing his rough voice.

Stranger only stays in front of the armorer's shop for a moment before moving on. You finally see him fully when he appears from the crowd. Tall and dark-haired he doesn't seem all that different from men of Gondor. His clothes give away the fact that he is indeed a Ranger. You hear more sneers following him from the other side of the street where old men sell leather. Their tannery is actually a few streets down from here, but they still keep a display in the busiest part of the market. Unpleasant fellows. They even got in a quarrel with your father a few times trying to steal his customers. Probably that's why you take a step down from the door and call out to the stranger. There's no other explanation at all.

"Ranger! Come look at our fabrics. Best broadcloth in all Minas Tirith! Vast selection and best prices for you."

The Ranger stops, looks around for a moment, and seeing the wares through the open door makes his way down to look over them. He looks at the materials laid out on the counter over, fingers them, and seems intrigued by the selection. He reaches out to examine a particularly colorful one.

"You have a very good selection here. Are these local, or imported? They look very fine."

You may be only 13 years old, but you know the goods well. "These wools are gondorian. Look at the quality here. There are none like this anywhere in Arnor. I also suggest these linen fabrics delivered from Linhir," you say imitating your father's manner of speech.

The Ranger smiles faintly at seeing you so assured in your speech and so young. He looks over the wools and linens.

"Linhir, eh? Impressive that you get such high quality goods from so far away." He looks back at you with visible curiosity. "Are you the shop owner's daughter?"

"I am," you confirm and after a little pause pull a length of dyed linen from underneath the counter. "This one is rarely to anyone's liking but you seem to be fitting the description of 'not anyone', if I'm not mistaken. Take it. There's enough for a good shirt."

The Ranger smiles more broadly this time, and picks up the length of linen. He examines it thoroughly, and nods slowly.

"You've got a sharp eye, to guess that I'm someone who doesn't blend in, lass," he says with a touch of humor in his voice. "And this is definitely worth the coin. How much are you asking for it?"

You name the price. He rummages his pockets for a moment before cold coins drop heavy in your palm. "There's more than needed. I'll be right back…" you say and rush into the house. For a minute only some shuffling is heard. Then you return to the counter.

"Here," you tell the Ranger. "Change and well… everything."

You pass him a coin of change and a small bundle. The Ranger pockets the change, and then takes a look inside the wrap. After a moment, he smiles faintly again.

"Is it common practice for you to throw in a meal with your sales?" he asks, amused.

You feel blush creeping up your face. "If the tavern owners are half as hospitable as the blacksmiths are, you will need it."

The Ranger laughs at that, and his smile remains afterwards. "You've an excellent point, lass. The hospitality of tavern owners seems to be in constant decline. And I'm not sure about the blacksmiths either."

It's clear in his voice that he's jesting, though he is obviously remembering his earlier confrontation with the blacksmith. You watch him put on the hood of his cloak as he walks away blending in with the crowd. You don't remember much from the rest of that day, except for occasional sidelong glance from the leather men. No wonder you don't. It's been over eight years since then.

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Many thoughts arise at once, clouding your mind like a swarm. Yet they all are silenced by one phrase, that a dwarf says. "What is the meaning of this, Aragorn?" He says something else about how it's not the king's duty to walk from stall to stall, choosing fabrics, but it doesn't matter.

You slowly slide off the stool you were standing on, by some wonder landing on your feet and not gashing your knees against the wooden floor. The words are pounding in your head. Yes, that's right. People surrounding him are.. not exactly people. An elf, a dwarf and two hobbits. Just as the rumor has it. The king has friends of other races and folks.

Your body is stiff when you muster a bow to him. This tall man, Ranger you once met, turned out to be the last living heir to the throne. Some absolutely mad joke of fate that might be.

"It's an honor to see you here, my king. Though I must apologize for the disorder and lack of manner," you manage to utter finally.

He smiles faintly at your bow. "It's good to see you again, lass," he says, raising a hand to forestall any further apologies. "And there's no need to apologize. Your manner is fine, especially given the circumstances."

He leans forward a bit, eyes still sparkling with the faintest hint of mischief. "You seemed surprised just now when you saw me. As if you've seen a ghost walk into your shop."

"It isn't everyday that a faintly familiar ranger pays a visit… and happens to become a king, your majesty," you say. Your eyes dart from one of his companions to another until you settle with the image. From there on your steps are fast and words are even faster as you fall into the usual pattern of work. It helps to set all worries aside.

"Midnight blue and ink black broadcloth for Gimli, son of Gloin," you arrange the fabrics on top of the counter before the dwarf. "Goes well along with both gold and silver."

"Bright wools and soft satins for brave hobbits," you speak pulling out lengths of colored textile and showcasing them to Merry and Pippin.

"Silver silk brought all the way from Lorien for honorable Legolas of Mirkwood," you suggest, unsure yet if smuggled wares could meet the request of an elf.

"Linen from Linhir and hemp from Dale for your majesty," you offer a multitude of colors to the future king.

Aragorn's eyebrows rise in mild surprise at the speed with which you handle the various requests. You clearly know your craft, and well. You pick out the colors and patterns with ease. He runs his hands over the soft fabric of the broadcloth you picked out for Gimli. After a moment, he nods slowly.

"Excellent choice for my friend," he says, glancing at the dwarf. Gimli grins back and nods in agreement.

"It's an honor to meet your expectations, my king," you bow slightly under Aragorn's somewhat disapproving gaze.

You watch as the others look through the selected fabrics and nod in agreement, choosing the best fitting ones. Aragorn himself looks rather delighted by the wares. He picks out a length of hemp cloth, turns it over in his hands a few times, examining the weave and texture, and finally gives a satisfied sigh.

"I'm still a Ranger at heart," he says, glancing up at you. "My taste in clothes runs toward the simple and practical. This hemp is just the thing."

He sets the hemp down on the counter and smiles back at you. "I do wonder, though… which one will you choose for yourself?"

Your heart skips a bit at the question. "For myself?" The words leave your mouth before you get a chance to think them through.

Aragorn smiles at your surprised expression. "Of course," he says. "I doubt I need to tell you that the coronation will be a grand event. There will be people, nobles especially, with all the fashion sense and more coin than sense. You will be the only one in something plain and unadorned if you stay away from the occasion."

He looks down at your clothes. You're well-dressed for a trader, a clear sign that the store's profits stay high despite any turmoil, but it's clear that your dress is ordinary, suitable for an ordinary day. "You deserve something better than that."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand, your majesty…" you mutter. "I might be able to watch the coronation from among the crowd, or standing on the parapet if the luck is good. But my dress makes no difference in that luck."

Aragorn lets out a small huff and shakes his head. "No, lass. You have seen me before, and you weren't among those sneering and showering me with cheap mockery. As far as I'm concerned, you're entitled to a seat of honor at the ceremony. And I'm not letting you take that seat while you've still got your old clothes on."

You look at him in disbelief. This idea seems absolutely mad. You have probably lost your mind during the siege, and now you're imagining the whole thing. That the King, Aragorn, would be in your store personally inviting you as a guest to his coronation and willing to pay for your dress because of some decade old encounter. You shake your head and blink a few times trying to get back to reality. And yet he is still here. The same smirk on his lips as he leans on the counter.

Aragorn's smirk grows a bit wider when he sees your reaction. "Don't doubt your eyes, lass," a hint of humor is present in his voice. "I am standing here. And I am inviting you."

He looks you up and down, taking in your current clothes and appearance. "And if you don't pick something suitable, I'll do it myself, and you won't like it."

At that you only shake your head yet again and turn around facing the many shelves behind the counter. You know the wares like the back of your hand and don't waste much time picking out the more delicate linens and a length of silk from southern Gondor in light blue hues. Aragorn only looks them over once and gives a nod of approval.

"An excellent choice," he says, looking up at you with a smile. "You have an eye for color."

You nod slightly, unable to speak anymore. It all seems so impossible and unreal. Aragorn pays for everything he and his friend choose as well as for the lengths for your own dress; he also leaves behind enough to pay any seamstress in the city for the gown. It's only a few minutes before you're left behind. Alone and bewildered by the meeting.

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

In the next couple of days you pay a visit to a seamstress that once had sewn your mother's wedding dress. She takes the order readily and in the next morning a boy brings back a bundle with the finished gown. It's light and flowing like water in the river. You wait patiently until the day of coronation to finally put it on.

The dress seems to be enchanted somehow. You don't feel like a merchant's daughter walking through the crowd at court, being accompanied by a guard. You don't feel alien standing in the front rows among noble ladies and just a few steps away from lady Eowyn — niece to the late king of Rohan — and lord Faramir — son of the last steward of Gondor. You feel as if this could be some other life prepared for you by fate. And still you can't quite place why the king would step out of his way and do something of that sort for you.

Throughout the whole ceremony you can't tear your eyes away from his silhouette. You recognize the familiar color and texture of fabric, hugging his neck from beneath the armor. You watch him walk regally and at the same time very openly among the guests. Many are his friends. The ceremony ends with his grateful bow to the hobbits as the whole court follows his example. And with that begins the feast.

The great hall of the palace is decorated and festive. The long tables are filled with food and drinks. People flood the hall, taking their places. You watch the whole Fellowship find themselves close to the king. And your own place is somehow not that far away as well. Just among the members of the few remaining noble families of Gondor, blending you in with them.

As the feast progresses more wine bottles are opened. So far you managed to avoid the many cups of wine being offered by neighbors at the table, but it was getting noticeably harder. Some surely mistook you for a daughter of some less well-known, but clearly wealthy family, that would make for a good bride for one of their many sons. Before the direct confrontation becomes unavoidable you get away from the table and into a side gallery. Unsure as to where you should be going, you escape onto a balcony. It's empty and the scenery is beautiful. Fresh air is soothing against the heated skin.

You lean onto the parapet of the balcony, taking this chance to immerse in peace of the early night. Judging by the music, the dancing must have started, and that sounds like another perfect way to excuse yourself from the table later. But before you even decide to head back, you hear the sound of the balcony door slightly creaking at being opened and slow footsteps approaching.

You turn around and recognize Aragorn, who must have found a great time to sneak out of the spotlight relatively unnoticed. Back in the hall he looked nothing like the Ranger you once met, but here in the faint moonlight and subtle orange hues casted from the windows you can spot more similarities than before.

"Good evening, your majesty," you greet him politely with an appropriate bow.

Aragorn smiles faintly at your bow. He steps forward and leans on the parapet next to you. After a moment, he speaks, his voice more casual than it was earlier.

"You know, you don't need to call me by my title. Especially not while we're alone like this."

The suggestion catches you off guard. "I don't quite understand what should I call you then… or why that would even be possible," you confess your doubts.

He looks over at you and raises his eyebrows. "Why would it be possible to call me by my given name? Because I'm allowing it. For the time being, at least."

Aragorn turns to you completely so that he's leaning against the parapet, with one arm resting on it. The simple action bringing color to your face as you get to see him fully. "You met me before I was king. As far as I'm concerned, that means you still have the right to call me something other than 'your majesty' when we are alone, like this."

"There're many people in this city and beyond its walls who have met you before, Aragorn," his name feels almost alien on your tongue. "But I doubt that they all receive the same… treatment."

The king lets out a small huff and smiles faintly. "No, I suppose not. I doubt I'd be able to recognize any of them, for starters. You, however, were more memorable…"

He gives you a brief once-over. "You were more memorable," he repeats, his gaze fixed on you for a moment before he looks away and back out at the city. "It could be a mere coincidence, but I trust my fate and its signs. My visit to Minas Tirith eight years ago was the last one. It was the time when I attempted to make the final decision of whether to follow the path of an heir or give up. The way I was greeted with dozens of insults and many more curses in the streets of the White city was the sign that I assumed to be an advice against pursuing my right for the throne. You showed up before my eyes right when I was ready to give up. So young and eager, so welcoming and confident. I couldn't tear my eyes away from you. You seemed as the very essence of the new Era. You singlehandedly charged something within me with this new will to fight for such future."

You stand there too stunned to say a single word, your mind racing with thoughts. You would never expect to hear something of the kind. The way you acted during that first encounter was a surprise to you as well, as if… well, as if fate pushed you to be more hospitable and welcoming to this stranger.

The more you keep thinking about his words the brighter the scarlet tone on your cheeks turns. You try to get rid of the definitely wrong ideas you got, but they just keep reappearing in your troubled mind.

Aragorn glances over at you and takes notice of the shade of red creeping over your cheeks. He can't help but give a small chuckle. "And now you're blushing again. I wonder why?"

He reaches forward and carefully takes your chin, his hand tilting your face up towards him slightly. "What could possibly be going through that mind of yours, I wonder…"

Your eyes dart to his with righteous indignation. "You know what!" you exclaim rather impolitely, but continue in a much calmer, quieter manner. "How could you be speaking of fate so easily…"

Aragorn lifts an eyebrow in amusement as your voice rises then falls off again. His grip loosens a little, his fingers now resting on your cheek, still turning your face to look up at him.

"You don't like the concept of fate?" he asks, with a faint smile. "You don't think the right people can meet at the right time?"

"No, that's not what I meant. However, you sound so sure of the way you interpret those signs of fate. As humans we are only able to follow the path prepared for us, not knowing what lays ahead, aren't we?" you say trying to explain your mind's confusion. "But you seem to understand more, and that seems impossible to me. Especially, when," you pause for a moment searching for the right words. "When I somehow get involved in your fate."

He looks at your expression, studying your eyes and face, his fingers still touching your skin as he speaks.

"You are involved in my fate," Aragorn says, his voice low and serious. "You have been for a long time, whether you knew it or not. But I knew it. Not long after we first met. I knew there was a greater purpose to that encounter, even if you did not. And I made sure to be grateful for your timely appearance. Though I must admit there might be more than just gratefulness…"

He removes his hand from your face and makes a few steps towards the door back into the hall before turning around and facing you once more. "Dancing will continue for another hour, but it would be a shame if the king doesn't dance even once because a beautiful lady decided to spend her whole night on a balcony, right?"

Your gaze glides over his hopeful gray eyes and faint smile until it finally lands on his outstretched hand.

#aragorn x reader #lotr #lotr x reader #aragorn #oneshot

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dearramiel · 2 years ago

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𝐓𝐚𝐠, 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐭 | 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

✧ - fluff in the beginning of the story, will eventually get dark, undertones of off setting steve, he's kinda stalking her in the beginning, anxiety/paranoia, steve is 28, reader is at least 21, yes I want to be steve's housewife(a lot of those undertones are present throughout the story so steve has a housewife kink), we listen to stevie nicks and honestly it was by pure coincidence, domestic vibes,

You look beautiful..

In that cute little dress, you'd make the prettiest housewife in town, if you'd just let him in. But all he can do is look, as you walk down the driveway of your house, a little empty basket on your arm. He figures that you're running Saturday morning errands. He shuts the blinds of his window, quickly running out of his own house.

"Y/n!" His voice calls out to you, you whip your head around and spot Steve Harrington jogging towards you, car keys in hand. The rattling of his keys come to an end when he catches up to you.

"Steve, Good morning!" You greet, your voice melting his insides.

"Morning, Sweetheart." He says, trying to ease his nerves when he notices the visible reddening on your face, or the way your smile gets bigger.

"Heading out to the markets?" Steve asks, to which you nod.

"I need to pick some stuff up for dinner today." You reply.

"In that little thing?" He motions to the basket.

"Well I'm only making something for myself, my mom and dad are out on vacation.." You giggle, "Unless, you want to join me?"

The older male is a little shocked, is that even a question?

"I don't wanna bother, but I also wouldn't want a little lady like you to be all alone." He grins. "How about I drive you there?"

The next two hours were spent with you trying to politely decline Steve paying for your groceries. You couldn't deny what it made you feel. You felt like you and him were together, walking around the market places as you picked fresh vegetables and canned goods, shoulders bumping by accident, accidentally brushing your fingers against his, even eying a dress.

All which Steve noticed, encouraging you to try them on in a makeshift dressing room that looked to be an extra storage room, mirrors in place where you could twirl in the dress. After deciding on a couple, you step out, showing Steve who was sat on a chair.

"What do we think?" You say, "it's a little long but maybe I'll grow into it." You joke. Steve doesn't speak for a solid second or two, his heart is racing because you look gorgeous.

"I think you look amazing. You should definitely get it." He smiled, looking at how it hugged your upper body, hoping one day he would see underneath.

"There's another, but I'll save it for later." You say, twirling another time to really show him everything. And again, he's nearly speechless.

"I'll be back." You say, going into the room to change back into your own dress. Carefully untying the little bow, blushing when you remember Steve's face.

Once out, you see Steve with the old lady, the owner of the shop. He's smiling to her as he gently pushes her hands full of change back to her, where she then bows her head to him, smiling ever so gratefully. The act is enough to make your pulse pick up, she hands him a bag big enough to fit the articles of clothing on your arm.

Steve noticed you close the door of the dressing room. "Here." He opens the bag, to which you then put everything in.

"You didn't have to, you know ..pay for it.." you say, feeling bad that he's practically been spoiling you all day. You weren't fortunate to have the money he did, and you definitely didn't want to make it look like you were trying to take advantage of his generosity. Most of what you did have was hard earned money coming from your parents, the house you lived in from your grandparents. It's why you pushed them to take a vacation for themselves.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, besides, I think that little dinner will make up for it." He suggests, a sweet smile on his face. You return it.

"Well, thank you for doing this." You play with your fingers, forgetting that he's holding everything. And he doesn't mind because it plays more into his fantasy.

"It's really not a problem."

It's 12 p.m by the time you get back home, Steve has walked you to your front steps, promising to stop by at 6:30 for dinner with you. The thought has you excited, almost throwing yourself into the shower before remembering that you already had, prior to stepping out.

After the excitement settles down, you realize that an unsettling feeling begins to wash over you. Being alone in a big house comes with perks like those, paranoia.

It leaves you feeling unnerved, and it's hard to shake off. It's not the first time you've felt this way, but it's also never been so intense.

You figure that the only way to ease the tension that begins to weigh down on your shoulders is by putting a vinyl into its player. A sense of relief comes down as Stevie Nicks plays throughout the living room, spilling into the kitchen. It helps just enough that you're able to focus on what you want to make, especially now that you want to impress Steve.

You settle on spaghetti and meatballs, after that, a pie to go as dessert.

1:00 p.m. becomes 2 p.m., which becomes 3 p.m., 4 p.m, and then 5:30 p.m, cleaning, cooking, and baking had you distracted, you wash your hands before quickly rushing upstairs to your room, bag in hand, the dresses Steve had bought you now on your bed. You figured that wearing the one he hadn't seen you in would be perfect.

You weren't sure why you were trying to impress Steve, maybe it was the growing crush you had on him, whatever it was, it began to make you feel a little insecure. Trying to live up to his standards, he was known to have any woman wanted, and they were usually really pretty.

You shake away your nagging and negative thoughts, choosing to put on very light makeup, a little bit of eyeliner, lipstick, blush, and eyeshadow, going for a natural look.

You slip out of your dress, embarrassed as you think about also changing your undergarments. It's not like Steve would see you in your underwear anyway.

But.. just in case...

You pick out a matching white lace bra and panties set, then slipping the dress on. You button up the dress, until you reach the last two buttons, leaving a very visible sight for your cleavage. Your chest on display, collarbone showing. Your hair is simple, a low messy bun with some loose hair scattered everywhere aside from your face. By the time your done, it's barely 6:15 p.m, giving you 15 minutes to yourself. With those spared minutes, you slip into your black flats, hanging the other dress in your closet, walking to the kitchen, serving two plates of food, two cups of water, and taking the pie out of the oven, setting it on the counter for it to cool off.

Setting the plates and cups on the table, you're finally done.

Then the ring of the doorbell has your heart jumping out of your chest. You smile and pat down your dress, quickly rushing to the door, opening it swiftly, face heating up when you see him.

Steve Harrington in a suit, holding roses in one hand, the other in his pocket, and you can tell that he's nervous.

He's not moving, stuck in a trance as he looks at the dress you're wearing, down to your legs, before looking back up to your face. An innocent smile on your pink lips, Steve finally moves.

"Hey Sweetheart."

#stalker!steve #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve x reader #stranger things x reader smut #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve harrington #tw stalking #tw anxiety

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bluegekk0 · 1 month ago

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Vyrm family home - Bottom floor pt. 2

Time to finish the tour of the bottom floor before I show the upper floor (which will most likely just be one post). This one will be long since I wanted to go more in-detail, as I wanted to include some subtle storytelling elements related to each character.

First, let's start with Holly's bedroom:

The room is cozy, but it's kept very tidy compared to the rest of the house. The only thing you will find on the floor, aside from the hide rug, are some pillows Holly sits on.

To the left of the door is Holly's desk, this is where they do most of their sewing and sketching (pretend the sketches on the wall aren't of human figures haha). They tend to find chairs fairly uncomfortable to sit on due to their height, which is why they use pillows for that purpose instead.

The two main themes of their room are plants and art. Since they enjoy gardening, they often move the former hobby inside to their little gardening stand. This is where they prepare all the potted plants you can find all over the house. A painting easel made by Vyrm is another feature of Holly's room, during bad weather you can find it here, but if it's sunny outside they will often move it to the garden area.

---

Next, there is Hornet's room:

A near complete 180 from the tidiness of Holly's room, Hornet seems to flourish in all the mess. It is by no means a gross room, it is simply used all the time. Books, pillows and hunting tools are all over the floor, often simply moved to the side to make way, which is why you'll sometimes find them piled up.

Unlike the rest of the family, Hornet's bed is elevated higher above the floor. She feels more comfortable sleeping above ground like this, likely a habit she got after surviving in the wilderness. Under the bed you'll find one of the two desks in Hornet's room, this one specifically used for reading and sewing. If you look closely at the bookshelf next to it, you may find a plushie. In this case it's a rabbit, but what I had in mind was that it was a stuffed toy Grimm gave her when she was a child, which she somehow managed to keep in one piece for all the years.

The corner to the right of the door is where she puts all her tools and bags for hunting, though you'll find some book piles there as well. On the wall are sketches of various flora of Hallownest, another hint at her hunter-gatherer profession.

To the other side, there is the second desk, the purpose of which becomes immediately clear. This is her work station, her job in Dirtmouth is to hunt and gather food. She displays some trophies on the wall, which is a hint towards another hobby of hers - she likes to make jewelry out of animal parts such as horns, claws or bones, which she then sells on the market for extra geo. The other weapons in the room aren't as in-universe friendly as I'd like, but I managed to find a neat little workaround for her needle (using a scaled up wand from the spellcaster pack haha)

And lastly there is a little corner which she likes to call her little unwinding zone. If she feels angry for whatever reason, she throws a bunch of small blades at the wall to calm down. On the other wall, she displays more weapons and tools, some made by herself, some made for her by Vyrm.

---

Lastly, it's time for Vyrm's workshop, and his shop.

The entrance to the workshop is in the living room, right by the door to the bathroom. It leads to a small corridor used mostly for storage. Behind the second door, you'll find Vyrm's workshop.

His main desk is right behind the corner to the left. This is where he does most of his planning and smaller tinkering work. On the wall next to it, there are sketches with clock-related blueprints, as well as little notes he writes down as reminders: special orders from customers, quick ideas he wants to expand on in his journal later, or simply reminders of specific dates and events so that he doesn't forget.

Nearby you will find his woodworking station. On top of working on clocks and similar mechanisms, he also dabbles in woodwork, mostly for specific projects, though in his spare time he also makes simple wooden figures to sell in his shop.

Next to it is another desk. This is where he experiments with prototypes for Holly's arm, and tries out designs for prosthetic limbs for anyone who may need them. If not that, then he simply uses it as extra work space in case his main desk ends up too messy to use.

Lastly, there is a little rest area right by the door to the shop, used primarily by Grimm who likes to visit Vyrm at the workshop in his free time, though Vyrm himself also uses it whenever he's studying literature related to his work (or to simply take a break if the shop is particularly busy that day)

Speaking of, the door leads right into Vyrm's Tinkerer Shop as he called it (name subject to change if I feel inspired). This is where Vyrm sells his creations and takes special orders from any bug who visits.

The counter is where he serves the customers, and displays some of his work that he can make for order (which he writes down in the book). This can range from wooden figures and clocks, to keys, prosthetic limb designs and even custom made blades. That said, if you look around the shop, it soon becomes clear that clocks and watches are his main specialization. His shop is fairly popular for that reason, as he was the one to introduce them to Hallownest after years of iteration and experiments. Bugs from all over the land and even outside of it visit his shop to buy his designs and request any repairs in case their mechanisms break, maybe even buying one of his other creations in the meantime.

---

Apologies for the extremely long post, I was considering splitting it into more parts, but I don't want to drag these posts for too long (especially since they're not as popular as my art)

Previous post (Bottom floor pt.1)

#gekko.txt #feral pk au #au worldbuilding #save #holly #hornet #fpk #vyrm

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urbancreative · 9 months ago

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Our 100 % pure hemp drawstring bags are versatile bags and can be used in the home ot outside for a low waste and plastic free lifestyle. These bags are available in a range of sizes to suit a variety of needs. Use these bags for plastic free vegetable and grocery shopping and storage, as a bread bag, as a travel accessory, a laundry bag, a gift bag or to even store toys.

These durable bags are made in 100% pure medium weight ( 230 GMS ) hemp fabric in a variety of sizes and solid earthy colours. The draw strings are made of 100% durable cotton tape.

#drawstring bags #pure hemp #versatile bags #plastic free #Market Storage Bags

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literaryvein-reblogs · 3 months ago

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Writing Analysis: Of Mice and Men (Cultural References)

Bindle: A bag, sack, or carrying device.

Bindle Stiff: Hobo; transient who carries his belongings in a sack.

Bunk House: A sleeping quarters intended for use by multiple people.

Talcum Powder: Very similar in texture to baby powder, talcum powder was used mainly after bathing or shaving.

Apple Box: A box used for storage or as a stepstool capable of holding a person's weight.

Scourges: A widespread affliction, an epidemic illness or the consequence of some natural disaster, like fire, flood, or a migration of locusts.

Pants Rabbits: A sexually transmitted disease, known as pubic lice.

Graybacks: The equivalent of ticks or lice.

Liniment: A topical cream for the skin that helps with pain or rashes.

Jerkline Skinner: Lead driver of a team of mules

Stable Buck: A derogatory name for an African-American man who works in the stables.

Stetson Hat: A famous brand of hats, especially cowboy hats.

‍Swamper: A general assistant; handyman.

Murray and Ready: An employment agency, specializing in farm work.

Work Slips: Proof that people had been hired to do a job.

Cultivator: A farming tool used to stir and soften the soil either before or after planting.

Cesspool: A well or pit filled with drainage or sewage.

Slough: A muddy or marshy area.

Tart: A woman who tempts men or who is sexually promiscuous.

Buck Barley: To throw large bags of barley on a truck.

Lynch: To illegally execute a person, generally applied to the hanging and/or burning of African-Americans in the south.

Slug of Whiskey: Equivalent to a hip flask of whiskey.

Gut Ache: A stomach ache.

Airedale: A type of dog, specifically Terrier.

Pulp Magazine: During the 1920s-1950s, inexpensive fiction magazines. From 1950 on, the term also came to represent mass market paperbacks.

Luger: The Luger pistol was an expensive, high maintenance weapon manufactured and used primarily in the German army.

Euchre: A card game played in England, Canada, and some parts of the U.S.

Two Bits: Twenty-Five cents.

Rag Rug: Rugs created from rags that were tied together by knots.

Kewpie Doll: A particular style of doll, one that was usually won at carnivals.

Phonograph: The first device for recording and playing sound, most specifically music.

Parlor House: Could be considered a restaurant, but more often parlor houses were brothels.

Hutches: A form of furniture, very similar to a wardrobe.

Welter: A boxer (refers to welterweight, a weight class in boxing).

Nail keg: A wooden barrel that could usually hold 100 pounds or more inside.

Russian Hill: Affluent residential neighborhood in San Francisco, California.

Travels with a Donkey: Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes (1879), one of Robert Louis Stevenson's earliest published works.

Varro: Marcus Terentius Varro (116-29 B.C.E.), Roman scholar/author and horticulturist.

Velasquez's Cardinal: Seventeenth-century painting by Spanish painter Diego Rodriguez de Silva y Velazquez.

Zane Grey: American adventure novelist (1872-1939).

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References

#of mice and men #literature #writing analysis #cultural references #writing reference #writeblr #spilled ink #dark academia #writers on tumblr #writing prompt #poetry #poets on tumblr #light academia #studyblr #writing inspiration #writing ideas #writing inspo #writing resources

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marmalised · 6 months ago

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--------------------------------- THE SMILER PIZZA BAG --------------------------------- Original price: Free, given away as a promotion. Price I paid for mine: Won for £77 but total cost with postage was £81.20 via Ebay bidding. I however was originally not going to bid on this item as I knew it would go for something like £100+, however i chanced a bid and ended up winning the item in the end and while £80 is considered a lot of money to pay for a plastic empty pizza bag, this item is considered extremely rare and may only pop up now and again if you're lucky to come across one. As I collect merchandise for The Smiler I am lucky to have come into possession of one of these bags as there may only be 40 made out there in the world (This is according to Paul Jones who owns five of the bags in storage) - sources for this come from Paul Jones himself who used to be an avid collector of the older merchandise of The Smiler and a collector for Alton Towers merchandise. --------------------- Item information: Come the year 2014 a single vending machine appeared on the Alton Towers plaza in collaboration with GoodFella's to giveaway The Smiler branded pizza along with The Smiler branded pizza bags to carry the boxed pizza in for free. You were ordered by the information on the side of the vending machine to take a selfie (presumably outside the vending machine) to get your free GoodFella's pizza and then tweet your selfie to the twitter page @ GoodFellas_UK using the hashtag #goodfellasmiler to receive your free pizza around the corner (front of the vending machine). - A single person would stand inside the fake vending machine and then the person inside would dispense the pizza once a button was pressed by a member of the public who had just followed the steps above, allowing the said member of the public to collect the pizza in the branded bag once dispensed. Each person got a singular pizza each, however I do not know if you could have gone back and gotten multiple bags (personally I will assume that it was one bag per person but take that with a grain of salt as I am following information I have researched and inquired about to those who have experienced this promotion. - On the side of the vending machine there was also a QR code to scan where you could receive £1 off on The Smiler pizza in any of the stores selling the branded pizza. - The Smiler branded pizza was available in various supermarkets for a limited amount of time and offered a 2 for 1 promotion for entry into Alton Towers Resort. It was a deep pan pizza base topped with tomato sauce, cheese, spicy sausage, pan fried onions, and Jalapeños with a rating of three chili peppers to equal the pizza was quite hot. ------------------- The bag feels very durable and not like your average supermarket plastic bag that can easily tear. Inside the bag is white and features a slot to slide the pizza into or anything else you may want to place inside the bag. The bag also closes with a clasp and features a plastic black handle on the top. The Smiler logo is placed on the front bag along with the GoodFella's logo on the left hand side in the corner. The text under The Smiler logo say "THE SMILER PIZZA" "LIMITED EDITION" in capital letters featuring the font Orbitron commonly used for The Smiler marketing and ride as a whole.

------------------------------ Year promoted: 2014 only. ------------------------------ All information and photos given in this post have been through my own research, my own photos featuring the pizza bag, Paul Jones over on Facebook (TowersFanatic on other socials) for the item description (rewritten in my own words) and the last three photos featuring the pizza box, vending machine, and the group photo featuring himself and the Goodfella's promotion team. All credit goes to their respective owners and I have been given permission to repost the images above, I am simply documenting my merchandise collection and not using any of this for profit.

#alton towers #the smiler #the smiler merchive #smerchive #collection #the smiler merchandise #yes there was even a pizza branded with the smiler theme #yes i spent £80 on a bag #yes i am insane #yes my parents faces looked like that one video of the angry cat when i told them what i bought and how much #shout out to the singular person in the vending machine #the smizza #smoninoes #smizza hut?

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thestudentfarmer · 1 year ago

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Kitchen post today~

With prices being what they are I like a good deal on groceries when I can find it. Sometimes that leads me to buying large quantities of things.

This week the local scratch n dent market had 5 pound bags of golden potatos on sale, 2 for $4. We like potatos so I snagged a few bags. Since i had 2 from last week's groceries I decided to pick through them all.

I tossed a few rotten ones and sorted out the good from the ones getting on the going side. The good ones I put up in a storage tote (a cooking pot for now) for later cooking.

These ones are the contenders for the weekly meal/freezer prep. They had some funny or funky spots, things that can be cut off and thrown away or in the compost. I clean them after washing them well.

As a heads up, it's not suggested to feed chickens raw potatoes. So leave anything with raw potato bits in the trash or the compost bin.

The bad bits.

If you feel need to you can wash them up again. I move to peeling after words.

I save the peels for breakfast potatoes, or to make soup.

A few peeled spuds.

Afterwords, depending on how many potatoes needed to be processed will decide what im making. This time I had enough potatoes to do cubed potatoes and hashbrown potatoes.

Cube potatoes, then blanch them till all Dante in a pot. (Not quite to mash potatoes softness, but not crunchy.)

Drain, cool quickly. (If your into water conservation, save the water for your plants once cooled) I cool till just under warm and lay them out to drain/dry a bit.

Then take a pan and lay out a clean kitchen towel on it. Pour dry potatoes on and place in freezer till frozen.

Store in container and use like regular frozen potatoes.

Moving to hashed potatoes

Similar to the cubed potatoes except I grated them.

I like to destarch my potatoes a little so I do a soak for about an hour, drain and then blanch.

I did about 5 minutes to blanch the hash, every couple minutes fish out a peice and test it to see if it's crunchy or just firm. Drain, cool asap.

Lay out to drain and dry a bit.

Lay towel on baking sheet. Place drained hashed potatoes on top. Place in freezer and freeze a few hours.

When frozen package up. Date and use as necessary :)

Other potato freezing/preserving resources

https://www.bbcgoodfood.com/howto/guide/how-to-freeze-potatoes

https://www.motherearthnews.com/real-food/dehydrate-potatoes-for-various-uses-zbcz1507/

🥔🌱Happy Homesteading!🌱🥔

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drafthorsemath · 1 year ago

Text

Antidote (TBB Tech x afab Reader)

Tech x AFAB Reader (use of she/her pronouns), but all of the Batch included

Word Count: Five words over 3.3k

Warnings: Sex pollen but not the usual trope (no sex and an alternative is found), suggestive sexual language and situations but nothing acted upon, restraining for safety, some strong language, frank description of biological processes, creative use of a tampon, some feelings of shame but they are addressed, NSFW, younglings begone

A/N: I can’t read sex pollen fics. I tried. It wasn’t my thing, but then I got an idea and @staycalmandhugaclone encouraged me so here we are. This is not a call out or meant to be negative toward any sex pollen fics. This is just a different take.

Also on AO3.

You met the Batch on Pabu and in the months since, found yourself spending more and more time with them. This was especially true of Tech. You found his thirst for knowledge and direct nature easy to understand and get along with. Though, you were doing more than getting along. You weren’t sure how to tell him, but you had fallen for him. His brothers all noticed, but he seemed not to. What you didn’t know was that he simply didn’t know how to bring up his feelings just yet.

The boys had decided to visit a nearby planet and since there didn’t seem to be any danger, no one had any objections to you coming along. You hadn’t been on a ship since you first traveled to Pabu and you loved watching as you flew through hyperspace. Tech landed just outside of a city and you all headed toward the market. Hunter and Echo went in search of supplies while Wrecker, Tech, and Crosshair all helped buy food to bring back to Pabu. You were particularly interested in the local fruits and vegetables that didn’t grow on the island you called home.

“I think this is enough,” you said, putting down the last crate next to the pile.

“Is it,” Wrecker asked. “I could eat all this in a couple days.”

“Yes, but we’re just getting what we can,” Crosshair responded. He didn’t want to make more than one trip back to the ship.

“Well, we can carry more,” Wrecker retorted. “At least I can.”

Crosshair gave him a half-hearted glare but helped purchase a few more crates. Wrecker easily carried most of the load.

You turned around to look for Tech. He was busy scanning some kind of contraption that caught his eye one booth over.

“Ready to go, Tech?”

“In just a moment,” he replied.

Wrecker and Crosshair walked ahead, catching up with Hunter and Echo who were waiting near the edge of town with some ship parts. You knew a moment for Tech could mean anything from a few seconds to much longer than that but wanted to stay with him.

He put the item down and walked with you. “The wiring on this new style datapad results in faster computations. I want to see if I can rewire my own and achieve similar results.”

“That didn’t look like any datapad I’ve ever seen,” you replied.

“Ah, the outside is only meant to grab your attention. It is a new model. The inside is what interests me.”

You smiled at that. Tech offered to carry the crate you still had, and you kindly accepted.

Once back at the ship, Wrecker took the crate from Tech. It was decided you all would spend the night on the ship and head back the next day. Tech cleared his bunk so you would have a place to sleep, insisting he could sleep in a chair. While you felt it was incredibly nice of him, you also couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to share a bunk with him. The thought left your mind as he asked if you wanted to come with him to document some of the local flora. After dinner, the others stayed around the campfire while you and Tech walked over a few hills and to the edge of a forest. He excitedly took pictures and samples, telling you about each plant and its properties.

“This one has several medicinal uses,” he said, handing you a pink flower. You smiled at it and then back at Tech. You gathered several and put them in their own storage bag for transport. Multiple species of flowers were packed before you looked a little further into the woods.

“Tech! Come see!”

He walked over and immediately noticed the large teal blooms that opened as you walked by.

“Fascinating,” he said. He took a picture and noticed that as he got closer to you, the flowers seemed to open even further. He scanned them, looking for any known properties. His face dropped as soon as the results showed up.

“We need to go, mesh’la!”

“What? Why?” You sneezed.

“It may be too late.” He took your hand and briskly walked you out of the woods. Your face suddenly felt hot and your throat burned.

“Tech, I don’t feel well.”

“We must get back to the ship,” he said nearly panicking. “I believe those flowers create an aphrodisiac that specifically affects females of several species.”

No sooner had he said that, and your limbs felt like jelly and you fell against him. Something wasn’t right. You could swear you felt all your blood rushing to your groin and let out a moan. You tried to run, but felt a great weight on your ankles. Tech lifted you like you weighed nothing and ran toward the Marauder. Hunter stood as he saw his brother carrying your body. Preparing for the worst, the boys all stood up asking what was wrong and following Tech on to the ship.

“A large flower opened, spreading pollen,” Tech stated. “I believe it is an aphrodisiac and it has already started to work.”

He sat you down, scanned you, and confirmed your symptoms. The others stood behind him, looking rather helpless. He sighed and gave you a rundown of what to expect. Very brief fever followed by extremely high libido and high energy until satisfied.

Crosshair looked from you to Tech and asked, “Isn’t there a way she can take care of this on her own? You know? Manually?”

“Negative,” replied Tech. “Based on the information available, orgasm does not help in mitigating the symptoms. It appears this particular pollen only effects females and it does not wear off until either sexual intercourse with a male is completed or her hormones shift with her next menstrual cycle.”

“Next period?!” You really started panicking. “I can’t feel that way for that long!” You wanted to cry and yet you could feel that you had to fight to remain yourself even now. You knew it would only get worse. “Look I… Tech I…” You searched for words, feeling overwhelmed. This was not how you wanted to have this conversation, but it seemed like you had better get it over with. “Tech, I have feelings for you. I really like you, but I don’t want to have sex with you or anyone right now, for that matter and I’m afraid of what I might say or do in the next however long.”

Tech quickly processed the information and couldn’t help but smile. “I believe the feeling is mutual,” he said, still kneeling in front of you. “I promise no one will do anything you would not want done in your healthy state of mind. You have my word.”

“That’s great,” chimed Echo, “And I’m really glad for you two, but how are we going to fix this without waiting?”

“I have an idea,” Tech replied.

No sooner had he said that and the fever hit. You felt like you were on fire and cold as ice at the same time. Wrecker stepped toward you to hold your hand. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said. “If anyone can solve this, it’s Tech.”

You tried to nod. Your whole body shook with fever, but within a few minutes the fever was gone. You knew that you weren’t yourself, but there was no way to stop it. You looked at all five men greedily and started to take your shirt off.

“I want Tech first,” you said with a smirk.

“Now now,” Wrecker said, still next to you and taking your hand away from your shirt. “None of that.”

You tried to stand up and looked at each member of the squad. You giggled to yourself that you just thought about the word “member.” They would do nicely, but you would give anything for Tech to throw you onto his bunk and fuck you through the bottom of the ship. You walked closer to him and he adjusted his googles.

“I know this is not you,” he said.

It quickly became clear that you were going to be quite a handful. Tech did research as fast as possible, finding flowers that reacted similarly. Wrecker held you in his lap with his arms wrapped around you after you tried to jump on Hunter as he walked past to assist Tech. He was also trying to keep you from acting out your latest threat of walking up to Tech and sitting in his lap naked. You made several comments about each of the men, but would not stop talking about how much you wanted Tech.

“We know,” Crosshair said, sitting next to Wrecker.

You turned your head toward Crosshair and smiled like an idiot. “Jealous,” you asked him.

“I didn’t say that,” he replied in annoyance.

“It’s okay if you are,” you countered in a sing-song voice.

Your body then decided that since you were sitting on a man’s lap, you might as well start thrusting your hips.

“Nope,” Wrecker said, lifting you off his lap. He was strong, but you were giving him a run for his money with how much you were squirming.

“We’ll sit with her awhile,” Hunter offered, dragging Echo with him. “Crosshair too.”

“What? Why me?”

“Because you’ve only sat next to Wrecker. I think we’ll all have to take some limbs or something.” Wrecker sat you down on the bunk and Hunter held you back before you could lunge at Tech. You nearly yoinked him halfway across the Marauder. Hunter managed to sit you back down with Echo holding one arm, Hunter the other, and Crosshair sitting on the floor hugging your legs.

“This is ridiculous,” you giggled. “Just let me fuck your brother. Just once.”

Hunter sighed. He knew you were going to be upset later. Tech had already discovered that there is no lapse in memory for this particular drug, so you would remember every moment of this. He hoped you would find solace in the fact that they all knew this wasn’t really you.

They were all getting tired and while Wrecker wanted to help Tech, he knew there was little he could do, so he tried sleeping until it was his turn to hold you again. Tech worked furiously through the night. He grimaced when you hit the next stage and complained you felt throbbing. You had gone from flirty to begging for someone to put your out of your misery “with as much cock as possible.” When that didn’t work you cried. He knew it must be painful by this point. He couldn’t stand to hear you cry. Your body was simply reacting to a drug. He felt guilty for not knowing this plant was in the vicinity, but it had never been documented on this side of the planet before. How could he have known?

In the middle of the night, Wrecker woke to stay with you while Hunter, Echo, and Crosshair tried to get some sleep. You made a lot of noise, but they tried. Wrecker had to admit that he didn’t do any more than doze. They were all worried for you, but being in war and under stress, they had learned to sleep when they can and then get up and do their part when it was time. They got what sleep they could.

You wailed when Wrecker held you, trying to scramble away to get to one of the men. He just kept apologizing and telling you he was keeping you safe. You managed to turn in his lap and wrap your legs around his waist.

He sighed. “I know you don’t want that. Not really.” You started crying again and all you could seem to feel was your pulse between your legs and a chemical drive that would not go away.

At the front of the ship, Tech started to make some progress. He smiled to himself when he found a research article on this species of plant. He needed one of the pink flowers you’d collected earlier along with two drugs from the med kit.

Hunter hadn’t done much more than close his eyes, but he sensed the med kit being opened and went to try to help his brother.

“Will you restart the campfire,” Tech asked.

“Sure. What progress have you made?”

“We are not able to create or obtain the hormones needed to trigger her menstrual cycle and end this using that method. However, it is theorized that the reason sexual intercourse causes the pollen to cease its effect is because of the presence of semen in the vagina. Specifically, one protein found in seminal fluid. Now, obviously that is not an option for us, but it appears a similar form of this protein can be synthesized using the pollen of some flowers we collected. While not ideal, there are some items in the med kit that can help this chemical process.”

“Great, but how do we get it in her,” Hunter asked.

“We don’t,” answered Crosshair, now standing behind them. “Put whatever you make on a tampon and ask her to do it herself.”

“Would that work,” Echo asked, joining them.

“I believe it is the least invasive option,” Tech replied.

They all nodded. Hunter went outside to start the campfire. Tech sterilized some equipment and joined him. It seemed simple enough. He only needed part of the flower and then the heated wound disinfectant along with bacta gel would cause the protein to be isolated. Hunter dug a tampon out of the emergency supplies.

Echo and Crosshair helped Wrecker who held your legs, while the other two sat on either side of you. You were tired, but still acting ravenous. Your method had gone even further in the direction of complaining about how you were hurting, and you just wanted all this to be over.

“It doesn’t have to be Tech,” you declared. “I’ll take any of you. Please!” You then melted in Echo’s arm and looked at him with stars in your eyes. “Changed your mind yet? Any of you?”

He simply shook his head, trying to show he cared, and held on so you couldn’t pounce on anyone. You turned to Crosshair on your other side. He held your arm and tried to help keep you still as best he could. You quickly moved to try to bite his neck and he pulled away. “No thank you,” he said. “I’m saving that for someone special.”

You were trying so hard to fight the drug coursing through your system, but it was a losing battle. After what felt like ages, Tech seemed satisfied with the concoction. There wasn’t much of it, but once it was cool enough he dipped the end of the tampon in the gel and walked back onto the ship. The boys let go enough for you to walk toward him. Your flirty symptoms appeared again, and you wanted Tech so badly. You looked up and down his body with no shame. He really took your breath away.

Tech found your glances made him nervous, but simply cleared his throat. Just as he was about to explain why he was holding a tampon, you started sniffing the air.

“That smell,” you said.

The men all looked at each other. “Can you smell it,” Hunter asked. “The protein?”

“Whatever it is, I want to sit on it,” you replied with a grin. You homed in on the tampon.

Tech cleared his throat again and explained, “I have created what we hope will reverse the effect of the drug, but you need to insert this yourself.”

Crosshair and Echo were still each holding your arms, but not too tightly. You seemed to calm and they let go. You took the tampon and went to take your pants off, but everyone stopped you. Tech opened the refresher door and you walked in. He closed it and everyone sighed.

“I hope this works,” said Echo. “All I smell is floral bacta gel.”

In the ‘fresher you regarded the tampon with a little suspicion, but your body seemed to be on autopilot. You placed the tampon and immediately the ache started going away. You took slower breaths. You washed your hands and realized your nerves had been on fire for hours. You looked at yourself in the mirror and felt the heat in your face start to drain. Instead, you realized all that you had said and done, or tried to do. All kinds of emotions flooded your system. You were sure that Hunter could sense the change in you from the other side of the door, so you made no effort to report what was going on. You weren’t sure you wanted to see or talk to any of them yet. You were covered in sweat from all your activity and wanted a shower. You stripped off your clothes and briefly stood under the water. Just enough to clear away the feeling on your skin. When you got out, you noticed someone had left you the spare clothes you’d brought, and you slowly put them on. After a few more minutes of staring blankly into the mirror and letting the antidote work, you finally reappeared.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I didn’t mean all that.”

“We know,” Wrecker said, pulling you into a hug.

“Glad you feel better,” Hunter said.

“Been thinking we might all get some shut eye before we leave,” Echo suggested. Crosshair nodded with a little smile on his face. For the first time all night, he popped a toothpick in his mouth.

You nodded, thanking them for helping you.

“Especially you, Tech.”

He wasn’t sure what to do. Should he hug you? Hold you? Keep his distance?

“Here,” he said. “If you find you need more to counter the drug, I will put this in a safe place.” He showed you a container with the small puddle of gel he had made using the flowers. You smiled at him.

“How did you figure it out?”

He walked you to the cockpit after closing up the ship as the sun rose. He sat you down, noticing how physically weak you looked. Sitting across from you, he told you about his research and how he found a way to mimic the protein structure that seemed to shut down the drug. You smiled. Of course Tech would figure it out.

“I’m sorry again,” you said.

“Cyar’ika, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, reaching for your hand. He gave it a soft squeeze and smiled at you. “None of this was your fault.”

You returned the smile and sat back, looking like you might fall asleep.

“Let me help you to bed,” he offered. You took his arm, needing it to steady yourself. Your legs felt like jelly for a whole different reason this time.

You got into bed. In his bunk. The others were already sleeping. Tech sat on the end of the bed, but looked conflicted. When he originally offered to sleep in the pilot’s seat, he didn’t know all of this would happen.

“Tech? Can you stay? Is that okay?”

He nodded, but suddenly seemed a bit nervous. He had never shared a bed with anyone like this. What he said earlier was true. He had feelings for you and knew you had feelings for him. He wanted you to feel safe, so if you wanted him close, he felt it would be alright now, although he wasn’t sure what he was doing as he laid down.

“How would you like me to, uh…”

“Like this,” you replied, taking his hand and laying it across your middle. Not too close or tight, but just there. “But however feels right. I trust you.”

He softly smiled and relaxed. “Goodnight mesh’la.”

#tbb tech x reader #tbb tech x fem reader #tbb tech x afab reader #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb tech fanfiction #can you believe I'm out here posting on main #sex pollen #without the sex #reverse sex pollen #i don't know what else to call this #reader insert #period #menstruation

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necros-writing-stuff · 1 year ago

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I'm sick and could use some fluff, sooo... Whichever on you're feeling, Eden or Darius. They come home early and catch their s/o working on a special surprise for them. Maybe an extra special meal, or a gift. They don't strike me as guys who get thoughtful gifts often.

I'm going with Eden because I'm in my forest husband mood today.

Warning - I go into describing Eden hunting and butchering a boar. But hey, it's Eden, it's the reality of what he does. And it's Eden POV, so some angst when it comes to his self image. But it's the angst before the fluff.

It had been a labour intensive day for the hunter. He'd had to spend more time than usual looking after his crop - some parasites had begun to nibble at the carrots - so he'd had to remove them before they could spread.

Then when he'd gone out to hunt he'd come across a rather territorial male boar in rut. Breeding season, his least favourite time of year. The damned beast had almost gored him, but he'd luckily gotten off a shot just in time.

His heart had dropped to his stomach as the hog had continued on its path before stumbling and falling, but then relief had flooded his veins instead. That was a lot of meat. It would be a while before he'd have to hunt again.

The downside, of course, was carrying the damn thing back home. And butchering the meat so that it wouldn't leak literal shit on the good stuff in transport left him open to wolves and bears. He'd managed to bag up the insides and haul the rest without an attack, though he'd been looking over his shoulder the entire time.

When he'd made it back to his familiar clearing, he'd been covered in sweat, his hands still stained with the blood of the boar despite him having rubbed them in the river for a few minutes. Not that it mattered, he'd only get more on him when he finished the preparation. A hot bath would be ready after. You always took care of that.

He vaguely remembers having smelt something sweet in the air, but had disregarded it as another baking experiment of yours. You'd been on a kick with it lately: cookies and cakes and pastries. He'd cherished every one of them.

The hide would have to be rid of hair - boars are too coarse to use for bedding or clothes. The dried hide could be sold to tanners to make leather though, and pay for his next supply run. Even if he dreaded going to that damned market in town.

Anxiety built the more he got in his head about the market. He didn't want to make you go, he'd seen enough people try to pay through illicit means and he didn't want to subject you to those perverts. At least they left him alone now, with his ugly damn face and ogre-like body.

God, it was a wonder you touched him. Someone as beautiful as yourself, so kind and generous, stuck with him. A man not much different than the beasts he shared the forest with. You even had the kindness - or perhaps, pity - to look at him as though you did like how he looked. Kissing his scars, playing with his hair that he doesn't take care of like he should.

Truly an impressive act you put on. Not that he blames you. The alternative is to tell the truth about his hideaousness and be stuck with him being more miserable than usual.

Eden doesn't notice when you approach, some lunch ready for him. When your gentle hand brushes his shoulder he almost jumps, hand grasping his butchering knife tighter until it registers that its just his darling spouse.

"Some roasted chestnuts, Love, we're running low on fruit again."

And there it is, that damned almost angelic smile and look of love in your eyes.

"I'll see what I can find next time I'm out," he grumbles.

He tries to hide the sour mood he's in, kissing your forehead before grabbing a rag and moving to the washing basin he keeps to clean up. With soap this time.

You don't comment on it, instead taking the meat he'd already cut up to cure in salt, jar, or smoke for storage. He didn't even need to ask you. He never does, you just know what needs done and when.

And the chestnuts are great. Everything about you and everything you do is just amazing. Even on your off days when you crawl into his lap and cry, you're just perfect. And he's... Competent, he guesses.

All of his muscles ache by the time he's done with the boar, you fetching the cuts in between filling up pails of water for the bath. He still has to chop some more firewood, though, and he forces himself to do enough to last three days so he can recover. Some of that salve you make will help with the aches and pains. Again, you being perfect.

The hunter is exhausted when he stumbles into the cabin, but not so much so that he doesn't notice that food is already being prepared. You've cut steaks from the back meat of the boar and they're in a pot, the fragrances delicious as they slowly cook. He can even scent the herbs you rub the cuts with.

You wait for him in the bath, shuffling forward so he can join and nestling close when he's situated. Those wonderful hands waste no time in rubbing his skin clean, massaging his scalp and thumbing over the callouses on his hands.

He's so tired, ready to just fall asleep as you pamper him, but it wouldn't be fair. You deserve more. So he returns the favour with heavy eyelids, and joins you as you leave the tub instead of staying in longer as he usually does.

"I'll drain it," he yawns after drying and putting on his evening wear. "You cooked dinner when I was meant to, I'll drain it."

He really should get around to putting in some pipes just to make draining the tub easier instead of having the push it to the porch and tip the damn thing. Eventually he'll get to it.

Dinner is plated when he comes back in, you waiting for him to sit so you can climb in his lap and the two of you can take turns taking bites. Sure, you could just get two plates. But then he'd miss out on this intimacy. And he needs this. He needs to hold you close. You had made some banana bread to eat after.

Your baking and cooking almost made the trips to town worth it for the extra ingredients.

"I've got the dishes."

You take them as he moves to his chair in front of the fire, the hunter sighing deeply as he sinks down into the chair and stares into the flames. He almost lets his eyes rest when something catches his attention, the fire's light reflecting off of it beneath a drawer in the corner of his eye.

Eden makes his way over to it, a piece of metal sticking out from under the drawer. He doesn't remember putting anything beneath there.

He pulls it out and only faces more confusion. It's a gun strap - one he doesn't remember making himself - the metal being clasps to secure it. Along the leather is an intricate embroiderd pattern only half done. Leaves and flowers, painstakingly threaded through the leather. A very tough job.

"Shit! You weren't meant to see that yet!" You call out from the kitchen area, obviously alarmed.

"... you've been making this for me?" Eden clears his throat, self-conscious about how high his voice was. Like a child.

"Yeah, it's been taking forever but I really wanted to do something special as a surprise since we've almost been together for a year now. You came home earlier than I thought you would have, so I must have messed up hiding it in a panic."

He doesn't like how sad you sound that your gift was found this early. His cheeks heat up, he can't look at you. Instead, he focuses on the foliage on the holster.

"They're, ah. They're all the herbs and flowers I put on your favourite meal. Sort of like a good luck charm that you'll get a good deer for it, I guess?"

New warmth blooms in his chest, his thumbs stroking each plant with reverence. When was the last time he had received a gift? He couldn't even remember. Especially not one this thoughtful.

"You don't like it, do you? I'm sorry, it was stupid, I'll-"

His stupid grumpy face making you sad again. As always.

Eden holds it away from you as you come to take it away, instead dipping his head down and kissing you deeply. You melt into his kiss, hands resting on his chest and body pressing against his as his free hand circles your waist.

"I love it," he mutters against your lips, "has it really almost been a year already?"

Your gorgeous laughter returns. "Time flies, huh?"

And yet it also feels like you've never not been here.

"You want me to finish it for you?"

"Please," he almost sounds like he's begging. He doesn't quite mind this time.

Your nose scrunches up in an adorable way. "Yeah your old ones starting to grow mold."

"It's not mold."

You silence him with another sweet kiss. It's really not mold though, just some really bad freying. He'd always taken care of his things until they fell apart.

"I don't know what to get you. I'm not the best at giving gifts," he sighs as he guides you both to the chair, once again settling into a comfortable embrace once you'd fetched your tools.

Your head cocks as you consider your answer, the light from the fire illuminating your face and somehow just highlighting every feature he loves.

"Oh I have everything I need already," you smile as you use wax to place a guide for the thread. "I have a comfy home away from all of the bullshit, a warm bed at night, great fresh food to eat, brilliant sex, and on top of it all the one who I do the brilliant sex with is the hottest piece of ass there is."

Well now he's back to blushing. Though happily, for an entirely different reason.

"And you better not argue about that mister."

"If you insist," he pushes back. He can't help it, really. It sounds so genuine but. How? How can you think that?

"I do insist," you shoot back, tone deadly serious as you look him in the eye.

And for the first time he can remember, he believes you.

#spill your guts #fae friend #eden the hunter #gn reader #cw hunting

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