#ah lads we're at it again

[awooooooooooo]

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[sysig]

Grump and not so grump (Patreon)

[deeisace]

Well I got on the wrong bus

[docdudo]

Familiar 141 - Young Witch!Reader (Part 4)

"What?" You asked, your voice quiet and laced with a hint of snark, just as annoyed as you were cautious of them.

There you were, pressed against the big, red armchair they had placed you in, staring back at the four familiars with a mix of annoyance and fear, eyes never leaving their intimidating figures.

Yes, they were your familiars now, but... it's a big adjustment to get used to so quickly.

You were still cautious, that's to be expected...

"We're going to have a talk." Price says simply, though his serious expression just makes you sink deeper into the armchair. "It's a bit overdue, but we wanted to ensure the bond had settled nicely before addressing any of this."

His comment makes you glance down at yourself, glaring at the gold bands still snugly wrapped around your arms and legs.

"First of all, let's start by the most important part. We can see you're not a part of any Coven. Where did you use to live, doll?"

You huff slightly at his question, since you were pretty sure Kyle and Johnny already told him about your little conversation outside.

And, by the way, why is this jerk speaking in the past?? 'Used to live'??

"I live with my grandpa at the edge of this forest..." You answer quietly, still clearly annoyed, but toning it down to avoid being rude to these ancient beings.

Your comment made Johnny scowl once again, huffing in annoyance as he crossed his arms quietly in the corner of the couch. Kyle still wore a pensive expression, tilting his head slightly as he listened to your words once again. Simon merely cocked an eyebrow, maintaining his relaxed posture as he leaned against the nearest wall. And Price, he simply nodded slowly, a slight frown forming on his face.

"Right..., your grandfather, you say?" John repeats slowly, watching you nod with conviction.

"Witches dinae have 'grandfathers'." Soap grumbled, still pretty much annoyed with your insistance.

"Watch it, Soap." Gaz sneered, slapping the back of his head.

"Ah won't! How do ye want me calm when all I can hear is that a human man kidnapped a baby witch??" The snarl he let out with his words made you flinch back in the armchair, looking between the two of them with hesitant and scared eyes. "A fuckin' man, Gaz! Are ye not worried??"

"The two of you, out."

Silence fell over the room as Soap and Gaz turned to fix Price with piercing stares, their expressions etched with angry defiance, making it painfully clear they had no intention of leaving.

"Do I need to repeat myself, lads?" He snarled, turning to stare back at them with a face you wish you never see directed at you.

"We're leaving." Gaz huffs in controlled anger, getting up from the couch and grabbing Soap so he can pull him by force out of the room.

Soap resisted a little, just a little, but as soon as he saw your scared expression, body pressed firmly against the armchair, he relutantly matched steps with Kyle, leaving the room.

Ghost seized the opportunity, pushing off the wall and walking to the couch to sit beside Price, where the other two were sitting moments ago. He was bigger than the others too, such a large man that was impossible not to be overwhelmed by his presence. Then again, the one they call their captain, Price, is just as bad when it came to intimidation.

"Sorry about them, doll," John drawled in his gruff voice, though it still carried a gentle undertone. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him, bringing himself almost to your eye level. "Those animals don't know how to behave in front of a kid. But don't blame them too much, first time actually interacting with a witchling."

"Talk a bit more about your gran'father, won’t ya?" Ghost rumbles gruffly, his voice so much like Price’s that it catches you slightly off guard for a few moments, just blinking slowly in his direction.

Now that you were alone with these two, the atmosphere felt completely different compared to being alone with Soap and Gaz. Sure, they were all powerful and intimidating, but these two were in a league of their own—much scarier, more imposing. Maybe it was the way Price spoke with unshakable authority, or the way Ghost sat manspreading on the couch, leaning back as if he couldn’t care less, his face almost entirely masked except for his piercing eyes.

It was intimidating, and it made you freeze up in fear of saying something wrong. You weren't sure why they had taken such interest in your grandfather, or why Soap keep insisting 'Witches can't have one', but you knew something was wrong here (which isn't impossible considering that you knew basically nothing about real witches).

"He's... he's just... it's just my grandfather..." You mumble quietly, keeping your eyes on your own lap, away from their intense expressions.

"I understand tha', but could you talk a bit more about 'im?" Ghost says simply, slowly, leaning forward on the couch similar to Price's position. "Human, innit?"

"A-Ah, yes.... he's... he's nice, mhm... short too, but that's because he's already old..." You were still speaking quietly, but you felt a bit more confident talking about your grandfather, eyes slowly going up. "He's... 79 this year, but he doesn't like celebrating his birthday... says it makes him feel old...... ah, he always lived around here, never liked living too close to people. Likes nature and all that..." You shrugh a little, not really knowing what they wanted to hear.

You're pretty sure your grandpa is a very simple old man; There's no reason for them to be so cautious. Even if that guy was some kind of criminal in his younger years, he's surely no threat at all now a days, not when he's already this old and thin.

You feel the need to voice your confusion, this is going too far.

"He's... very normal, I don't understand what's... the problem here..." You mumble, frowning a little as you finally gather enough courage to stare back at them.

"How much do you know about witches, darlin'?" Prices asks back, still pretty much patient and calm.

That's good. Except that he's still not actually answering your damn question-!

"Dunno, not a lot." You grumble back, shruging once again. "What does that has to do with my grandpa? He's human."

"You see, witchling… witches don’t usually live with humans," Ghost says softly, as if trying not to offend you.

You continue to stare at him with an impassive expression. You’d already deduced as much, but you still didn’t see the problem here.

Price lets out a small chuckle at your confusion, shaking his head slightly.

"What we're trying to say, kid, is that it's pretty rare to find a witch not living in a Coven. It's dangerous for witchlings to be alone. And… the only male interaction a witchling should have is with other witches' familiars."

The way he speaks is surprisingly soft, but it’s clear he’s trying to clue you in on the fact that your situation is highly unusual. In truth, he also seemed a bit unsettled by the idea of a witchling like you living with a man. They were all uncomfortable with it, actually—trying their best to remain at least somewhat civilized, resisting the urge to immediately lock you away in their arms and ensure no one ever got close to you again.

"Ah… so all witches are women?" You had sort of deduced that a while ago from things your grandfather had said, but it was good to finally have confirmation.

Their reactions, however, told you that maybe you shouldn’t have said anything. Ghost, his face mostly hidden beneath a skull balaclava, immediately widened his eyes in surprise, his body going rigid on the couch. And Price, who had been wearing a faint smile, dropped it instantly, his expression turning more intense than ever.

They spent a few moments in complete silence, simply staring at you, before Price finally spoke again, his voice cautious.

"…Yes, witches are all female." He then closes his eyes, seemingly gathering strength and patience—or something like that. "I guess that's to be expected... you're clearly new to this."

"And all familiars are male." Ghost adds, now calmer, his eyes serene and his posture more relaxed.

You blink slowly at that, nodding a bit. That's new information for you, so does that mean...?

"So... witches have babies with familiars?" You ask innocently, tilting your head slightly to the side.

And once again, their entire demeanor shifts as they freeze, shocked expressions plastered across their faces (or, the most shocked their mostly expresionless faces went).

"YA GOT TO BE FACKIN' KIDDIN' MAH!" Soap yelled from somewhere deeper in the house, causing you to sit up straighter in alarm—though the quick sound of Kyle shutting him up with a slap quickly followed.

Was that a stupid question to ask?? What's with these reactions??

"No, no, witches do not have kids with familiars." Price quickly interjected with a firm voice, his brow furrowed in a mix of concern and disgust.

"Price, it's a baby witch…" Ghost reasons, still a bit rattled but mostly unbothered by now. "She doesn't know any better."

"Then we'll teach her," Price says with finality, getting up from the couch in one fluid motion and approaching your small curled up form on the armchair.

You let out a small, indignant sound as he picked you up effortlessly in his arms, patting your back gently to calm you down. One of his hands went to caress the gold bracelet on your arm, a satisfied smile crossing his face, as if reminding himself he had a witch once again.

"Mhm, me and Kyle will take our time teaching her everything she needs to know. Gonna be a proper witch, aren't you, witchling?" Ghost rumbles gently, his voice so low it almost sounds like a growl.

You watch him get up from the couch to stand by Price, your gaze lifting to meet his face. You’re just a little alarmed as he rubs your cheek with the back of his gloved hand in a gentle caress, rumbling quietly from his chest.

You keep forgetting these beings are not humans like you're used to.

"Why cannae be a teacher too?" Soap drawls from where he’s now leaning against the farthest wall, Kyle just smiling in amusement as he stands by his side, arms crossed.

"You're not cut for it." Ghost deadpans back, still rubbing your cheek with the back of his hand.

"Ah'll let ya knae I'm totally cut for it." He smiles back deviously, approaching you all with confident steps and an amused Kyle right behind him. "Right, lassie?"

Ghost rolls his eyes slightly at Soap's antics, hovering close to you as Price gently lowers you to the ground, in case you lose your balance.

"I still don't get it..." You mumble, a bit confused as you look up at their faces. "And... my grandpa... he must be worried about me... I-I have to... go back..."

Johnny immediately frowns at your words, approaching you instinctively like you were gonna run away any second now, but Price nods slightly, pensive.

"Actually, that's a good idea. Let's meet this "grandpa" of yours."

[knightjpg]

analgesia

It's not the first time he's got himself skunk drunk when back home on leave, and part of you resents his decision for joining the military. Clearly that has to be the reason for him living it up like it's his last goddamn night on Earth at every opportunity, right? You're more familiar with his sloppy cheek kisses and wandering hands while you get him home than you'd like, but such are the burdens of best friend privileges. It's Johnny—harmless, familiar. A little stupid and a lot sweet.

tags: dubcon, johnny/reader, alcohol mention, unprotected piv (wrap it up kids)

“Fuck's sake, Johnny, keep your feet—!”

Johnny just laughs and leans all of his weight on your shoulder again, making you squeak and scramble for balance. 

“Le's dance, bonnie, c'mon, we gotta go dancin’,” he slurs in your ear. 

A laugh bubbles up your throat before you can help it. You're tired and annoyed and exasperated, but it's just so damn hard to stay angry at Johnny with his big blue puppy eyes and the way he's always smiling like a little boy caught doing something he shouldn't have. 

Dancing... Ridiculous. He can't even walk in a straight line. 

“No,” and you try to sound firm through your smile. “We're going home, and we're getting you a glass of water. You stink.” 

Johnny answers you with a full-on whine, burying his nose in your shoulder and scratching against your skin with his stubble. “Why're you s'mean. Why d’ye hate me.” 

"If I hated you I’d dump your ass at a bus stop and leave you to sober up by yourself.” You hoist his arm more securely around your shoulder while you walk, thanking every higher being you can think of for wearing sensible sneakers tonight. Johnny's leaning into you so hard you have to lean back an almost equal amount just to stay upright and keep shuffling forward. 

And so when he suddenly stops you almost fall face-first on the hard stone pavement. “What—” 

You can see Johnny turn pale even under the dim lantern light, and he presses a hand to his mouth before doubling over— 

“No no no please don't throw up—” 

...and retching his guts out in the gutter. You allow yourself a deep sigh and watch your breath turn into a puff of cloud while listening to Johnny heave the alcohol out of his system. It's so dark out you can even make out the flicker of some stars when you look up, winking in and out of existence as the opaque curtains of cloud drift by. 

When he's done you look down and wince at the stains on his shoes. He's shivering, and pity has you rubbing a hand over his shoulder. 

“Ah dinnea feel s’good,” he mumbles. 

“I can see that. C'mon, big boy. It's gonna be okay.” 

He unsteadily lets you help him to his feet again. He's been feeling off all night, and you watch him with a mixture of worry and sadness. 

It's not the first time he's got himself skunk drunk when back home on leave, and part of you resents his decision for joining the military. Clearly that has to be the reason for him living it up like it's his last goddamn night on Earth at every opportunity, right? 

You're more familiar with his sloppy cheek kisses and wandering hands while you get him home than you'd like, but such are the burdens of best friend privileges. It's Johnny—harmless, familiar. A little stupid and a lot sweet. 

But it's never quite felt like this. He was all smiles tonight until... 

Until when? 

You don't know what set him off. You were with the usual crew, old friends. Everything seemed fine—Johnny'd been playing darts with some of the other lads and you'd been with the girls, gossiping over dates and breakups and relationship advice. 

You'd shyly told them the bloke you'd gone out with last week called you back asking for another date, and were hounded afterwards for details. You'd been having fun until you weren't. Or rather, until you were too distracted by Johnny slamming back drink after drink with tense shoulders and tight eyes. 

You sigh again when you reach your apartment. You had plans for tomorrow, but... You glance at Johnny. His head's slumping forward till his chin is almost touching his chest. You don't want to leave him feeling sick by himself. 

Johnny's drunkenly mumbling to himself while you fish around your bag for your keys with one hand. One of his arms curls around your waist, making it harder, and then his hand wanders high enough to grope at your breast. 

“Chrissake, Johnny,” you smack his arm. “Play nice. I'm trying to—” 

“Love ye s’much, bonnie,” he mumbles against your neck, hand not moving an inch even with your nails digging into his skin. If anything it makes him cling to you more tightly, and you're worried he'll fall and break his thick stupid head if you push him off you with more force. 

“Yes, yes, love you too. Idiot. Now let go, I want to get out of the cold...” 

Somehow you manage to move around his iron grip and click open the door. You put up with his slobbering against your neck because it makes him a lot easier to deal with getting up the stairs and then, fucking finally, you're in your apartment where it's warm and cosy. 

You shuffle over to the bedroom because it's closest and there's just absolutely no way Johnny's going to fit on your couch. You've tried. It's not worth putting up with the complaining about back pain the next morning. 

Johnny flops onto the mattress and just when you think the finish line is in sight, his hand snatches yours so quick it's a blur. 

“Dinnea leave...” 

“Have to get you a glass of water,” you tell him gently, trying and failing to pry his fingers off your wrist. 

“Dinnea want ye t’fuckin’ leave...” his voice breaks in the middle and you stop short for a second—is he crying?  

God, how drunk is he...? You'd hoped throwing up would have counted towards sobering up, but apparently not. 

“Shush, it's okay, it's okay. We'll get you some water and you'll sleep it off, alright?” 

Johnny slurs something you don't catch and you take the opportunity to slip away and get him a glass. You make him drink it all, even manage to get him to rinse his mouth. He does as you say without fuss, wavering between stubborn as a rock and pliantly obedient as always. 

“You're a handful and a half,” you say, but without any real heat to it. You brush back strands of brown hair—his mohawk's been growing out. He'll probably ask you to cut it again before he returns to base... 

When he starts to slump over again you quickly take the glass from him and set it on the bedside table, and push against his shoulder to get him to lie on his back. “Christ, what are they feeding you,” you mumble to yourself. He's got to be bigger every time you see him—you don't think you could fit two hands around his arm. 

When you pull back to get Johnny a blanket he grabs at you again, and this time you're too caught off guard to keep your balance. You fall half on top of him with an ‘oomf!’ and narrowly avoid kneeing him in the groin. 

“Give me a fucking break,” you huff when he takes this as the go-ahead for a nice cuddle. Those thick arms immediately wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

“Love ye s’much,” he slurs again, mouth tucked just below your ear. Every time he moves his lips it's like he's kissing you, and despite everything you have to suppress a few shudders. “So fuckin’ bonnie. Was lookin’ at ye all night. Wanted t’go dancin’ with my girl, take ye home...” 

You flush. It always takes you by surprise, the drunk ‘my girl’s, to the point where you asked him about it one time. Johnny just laughed and shrugged. “You are my girl. Known you the longest since forever, aye?” 

You pointed out that's not quite what it means, and the only reply you got was that he wouldn't call you that if it bothered you. It's a promise he forgets every time he goes out, though... 

“You're drunk,” you tell him. 

“M'not,” he says, breath hot against your neck. It's followed by something wet, and you jolt in his arms. 

“What’re you—Johnny, gross, what the hell!” 

He licks at you again, and the twitch that follows is involuntary. Your neck is sensitive and, well, so what if it's been a while? The guy you're planning to see next week was going to fix that. Not Johnny. He's not... He's not supposed to be— 

“Taste s’fuckin’ good,” Johnny groans against your neck. The bed shifts and creaks, and this time there's a graze of teeth.  

“Wait,” you gasp, voice suddenly thin and airy and so distracted by Johnny biting at your skin it takes more than a few minutes for you to realise the bed is creaking because he's humping your thigh. 

An embarrassed heat zaps through you right to your core, and the intensity of it makes you break out into a sweat. 

“Johnny, Johnny, wait—” 

He outright moans when you say his name, hands squeezing your waist before sliding down to cup your ass and angling your hips to slot his own into. “Make it so good for you, kitty, need ye s’bad...” 

Jesus Christ. Mortifyingly you can feel yourself getting wet. Just—the proximity, the heat, the electricity running up your spine every time his big hands slide over your thighs. You feel trapped, suffocated, almost, and unfortunately the fact that you can't get away from him even if you try makes the dizzy feeling in your stomach spin harder. 

When Johnny sucks at your neck and roughly tugs up your shirt to knead your chest through your bra there's a few seconds of white-out bliss, and you seriously consider giving in and just— 

No. He's drunk. Probably barely has any idea what he's doing—never remembers what he said or did the next morning. You can already imagine the apologetic hugs, the huge pleading eyes. He'd feel terrible. 

“You're drunk—you're drunk, c'mon, Johnny, we can't, we gotta...” you cut yourself off to muffle the moan that threatens to slip when Johnny ducks his head down and starts giving your chest open-mouthed kisses.  

“No,” you protest weakly, unsure if you're telling him or yourself, because despite your good intentions you really don't want him to stop. Would it be so bad? Would it be so bad if you let Johnny make you feel good? He won't remember, will honestly probably pass out before anything actually happens, and... and... 

“We gotta be—gotta be smart, Johnny, oh—” his name comes out as a sob when he flicks your nipple with his tongue, and you squeeze your eyes shut. 

“Say my name, bonnie, sound s’fuckin’ pretty for me... Gonna make ye sing, make ye feel so good,” Johnny pants against your skin. One of his hands worms its way down, almost rips the buttons off your pants, cups your core right through panties. You shake from just that, back arching, hips stuttering away and then back towards him because this is unfair. Isn't drunk sex supposed to be shite? Why is he making it work? What's wrong with you? 

Johnny moans loudly, unlike you completely unashamed and uninhibited and very happy to let you know that you're “So fuckin’ wet for me—tha's for me, aye? All mine? Fuck, tha's good—Sweet little cunt...” 

You push at his shoulders with less and less conviction. You try tugging at his mohawk to get his attention, desperate not to have to be the voice of reason here, but all that does is make him shudder and bite at your tits. 

And neither gets him to take his hands out of your pants, though he very quickly decides just feeling you soak your panties isn't good enough. With a lot more alacrity than you should reasonably expect of him he pushes aside your underwear, starts flicking your clit, and sticks his tongue down your throat to eagerly drink down your sounds of pleasure. 

“Missed ye so much, miss my girl all the time,” he whines into your mouth. You can feel his cock thick and erect through his jeans, still rubbing against your hip, and you shiver, because Johnny's stupid big fingers are working you to completion at a rollercoaster pace. But when you start to tremble, breaths coming short and quick and needy— 

He stops. 

“No!” you whimper, sounding as pathetic and desperate as you feel. If he falls asleep now you're going to kill him. 

But Johnny hasn't fallen asleep. When you crack your eyes open you look right into his, glittering in the half-dark of your room. When he speaks his voice is husky, low and tight with desire coating the edges. 

“Tell me y’need me, aye? Wee lil’ cunt need me so bad?” 

To punctuate his question he flicks at your clit again, and when your hips jolt in response his free hand presses them down into the mattress. Keeping still. 

There's a split second of doubt, the voice of reason rearing its head in the back of your mind. This isn't right—he's drunk. You've just started seeing someone, kind of, not quite dating yet, but it wouldn't be fair—right? 

You can't quite catch Johnny's expression in the low light, but the edges of him seem to sharpen when you don't answer right away. In one fluid motion he pushes himself up to hover over you, knee nudging your legs open wider, and presses his forehead against yours before starting excruciatingly slow circles on your clit. 

You gasp and pant and can't do anything except lie there and let the weight of both his body and his gaze pin you to the bed, helpless and mortified at your own body's response. Because even though it's slow you are soaking him, him and yourself. Your jeans are ruined; your underwear is a joke. You're pretty sure if Johnny pulled away now his hand would be wet up to the wrist. 

And you don't want him to pull away. You almost cry in relief when he speeds up his rhythm, so glad you don't have to make a decision after all and can simply receive whatever the alcohol in Johnny wants to give you... 

Until he stops. Right on the edge, mean fucker, and this time tears slip past your lashes. “No, no, please, please, you can't—please, Johnny...” 

“Tha's better,” he says roughly, the hand on your hip travelling up to pinch at your nipple until you try to wriggle away from him. “Love ye so much, kitty. Tell me you love me, c'mon.” 

“I—” you swallow, mouth feeling dry despite all of Johnny's slobber. This feels like more than it should be. You love your friends. You love Johnny. But— 

“Y’want it?” One of his thick fingers prods at your entrance without ever really entering, and the promise of relief so close is what breaks you. 

“Yes,” you whimper. “I want it. Please. Please...” 

Your reward is one thick finger slowly entering you, and you squeeze your eyes shut and sob at the sensation. It's almost—almost—everything you've ever needed. Johnny's breath has gone ragged above you, eyes glued onto your every expression. 

“Y’need me, aye? Say it. Say you need me.” 

“I need you,” you manage to stutter out, the last vowel of which transforms into a drawn-out moan when it gets you a slow crook of his finger inside you. It's so fucking slow, Jesus H., but it's something. If he stops now you're going to lose your mind. 

Your desperation along with your evident arousal softens Johnny, and he coos at you while he fingers you. “Don't hav’ta go anywhere, jus’ stay right here with me, give you everythin’ you need...” 

It'd almost be sweet if you could think straight, and you should be, you're supposed to be the one keeping a clear head, but it's really hard to think anything at all when Johnny's messily kissing you again. 

“Pretty girl,” he groans when you squeeze around his finger. “My pretty girl. Ye love me? D’ye love me, bonnie?” 

Your stomach is tightening and with a spike of panic you rush to answer this time: 

“Yes, yes, Johnny, love you—” 

How unfair that that makes him stop. He looks at you, eyes big and wild, cheeks flushed, like a kid opening a Christmas present he was told his parents didn't have the money for. And then he pulls away entirely to rip your jeans off. By the time it catches up to you, you barely have the wherewithal to raise your hips to help him. 

His own clothes follow suit so quickly you fear for the fabric, and then realise it's yourself you should be worried for. You had an inkling of Johnny's size, have woken up to it pressing against your ass too many times to count, but... 

That's not going to fit, you think wildly, and Johnny must see some of the panic on your face, because while he lines his thick leaking tip up to your soaking cunt his other hand pets at your cheeks, lingers on your throat. “Doing so good, bonnie, gonna make ye feel so good, fill you up so nice...” 

His moan fills the room when he slides in another few inches, bounces off the walls and ricochets inside your head. It doesn't hurt, thank God—you're drenched and desperate and at this point frankly impatient. 

Johnny slides in deeper and tugs your legs around his waist, makes you keep them there when he bottoms out and lets out a wild groan from somewhere deep in his chest. You can feel it in your own, pressed against you as he is. 

“Perfect girl,” he gasps, slowly pulling his hips back and then slamming them back into yours. “Fuckin’ mine—all f’r me.” 

This time you're not sure who leans in for the kiss first. It doesn't matter anymore. Your moans and whimpers steadily grow in volume until you're crying under Johnny, clinging to him while he fucks you following a rhythm too quick and wild to try to meet. 

When he presses his thumb to your clit again it barely takes anything to ignite the fire again, wild and hot and ready to boil over. Johnny coos at you again when your mouth drops open in long, silent cry, cunt clenching around him hungrily. “Tha's it, bonnie, feel so good, aye? Pretty kitty feelin’ so good? Fuckin’ made for me, gonna fuck ye so full—” 

It doesn't take long for him to do exactly that. You can feel his cum filling you, hot and heavy, long spurts accompanied by Johnny's desperate moans and whimpers. 

You whine when he collapses on top of you to give you more lazy, open-mouthed kisses—“You're heavy, Johnny, get off”—and try to catch your breath in the two seconds of reprieve you get before he's pulling you into his chest. 

You're spent. Sweaty, flushed, and boneless. The sheets are no doubt disgusting, but it's so late and you're too fucked-out to care. You file it away for tomorrow, just like the hundred other things you're going to have to talk about somehow... 

Johnny lets out a deep, contented sigh, tucking you under his chin and pulling your leg over his waist like he's rearranging a doll. You don't have the strength in you to protest. It's only when you feel his cock prodding at you again that you jolt away from him and try to remove your leg, but Johnny frowns, clicking his tongue like he would at a disobedient pet.  

“I want to sleep, Johnny, 'm tired...” 

Johnny tuts softly, keeping you still with a firm grip while he enters you again. “’S just for keepin’ it all in, bonnie, dinnea fuss. See? ‘S nice all full like this, aye? Wake ye up all nice ‘n proper tomorrow.” 

You wriggle in his grasp with a soft whine—Johnny's cock is girthier than any other you've had before and you're sore from being used like a battering ram, even if it felt mind-numbingly good. But Johnny's arms are iron, and the more you try to move around the tighter he holds you to him. 

Eventually you give up and give in. Sleep is tugging at you insistently, and when you relax around him it's not so bad. Johnny kisses you when he feels you settle, his hand running soothingly over your bare skin. 

It's enough for you to be lulled into sleep. Before you drift off one last thought surfaces: 

Isn't Johnny supposed to be good at holding his liqueur...? 

[stupidphototricks]

Dwarf tradition, in The Truth. Long quote but there is so much to unpack here.

"A dwarf needs gold to get married." "What… like a dowry? But I thought dwarfs didn't differentiate between--" "No, no, the two dwarfs getting married each buy the other dwarf off their parents." "Buy?" said William. "How can you buy people?" "See? Cultural misunderstanding once again, lad. It costs a lot of money to raise a young dwarf to marriageable age. Food, clothes, chain mail… it all adds up over the years. It needs repaying. After all, the other dwarf is getting a valuable commodity. And it has to be paid for in gold. That's traditional. Or gems. They're fine, too. You must've heard our saying 'worth his weight in gold'? Of course, if a dwarf's been working for his parents, that gets taken into account on the other side of the ledger. Why, a dwarf who's left off marrying till late in life is probably owed quite a tidy sum in wages—You're still looking at me in that funny way…" "It's just that we don't do it like that…" mumbled William. Goodmountain gave him a sharp look. "Don't you, now?" he said. "Really? What do you use instead, then?" "Er… gratitude, I suppose," said William. He wanted this conversation to stop, right now. It was heading out over thin ice. "And how's that calculated?" "Well… it isn't, as such…" "Doesn't that cause problems?" "Sometimes." "Ah. Well, we know about gratitude, too. But our way means the couple start their new lives in a state of… g'daraka… er, free, unencumbered, new dwarfs. Then their parents might well give them a huge wedding present, much bigger than the dowry. But it is between dwarf and dwarf, out of love and respect, not between debtor and creditor… though I have to say these human words are not really the best was of describing it. It works for us. It has worked for a thousand years." "I suppose to a human it sounds a bit… chilly," said William. Goodmountain gave him another studied look. "You mean by comparison to the warm and wonderful ways humans conduct their affairs?" he said. "You don't have to answer that one. Anyway, me and Boddony want to open up a mine together, and we're expensive dwarfs. We know how to work lead, so we thought a year or two of this would see us right." "You're getting married?" "We want to," said Goodmountain. "Oh… well, congratulations," said William. He knew enough not to comment on the fact that both dwarfs looked like small barbarian warriors with long beards. All traditional dwarfs looked like that.* *Most dwarfs were still referred to as "he" as well, even when they were getting married. It was generally assumed that somewhere under all that chain mail one of them was female and that both of them knew which one this was. But the whole subject of sex was one that traditionally minded dwarfs did not discuss, perhaps out of modesty, possibly because it didn't interest them very much, and certainly because they took the view that what two dwarfs decided to do together was entirely their own business. — Terry Pratchett, The Truth

I super love the footnote, of course, but unexpectedly now I kind of want this version of a dowry to be a thing. I mean, the dowries of the bad old days where the man basically bought the woman from her parents, that's not okay. But this.

I'm a parent, and in no way do I feel like my kid owes me for their upbringing, education, or even (I'm anticipating) a few years of post-college living at home. Not at all. I can't imagine not taking care of them or attaching any strings to that care.

But that's not what this is. Really, ideally, it's a way for parents and children to give each other the gift of the child's independence, their autonomy, their adulthood. To officially and tangibly say that their relationship from this point on is no longer parent/child, but something more on an equal level.

For that matter, I imagine the child is free not to have a relationship with their parents any more at all, if they want. No obligation, no guilt. If parents want to be in their kids' lives when they're adults, they'll need to make sure their kids actually like them as people.

Well. I know that our world of humans doesn't work like this. Even if we put a monetary value on what we owed our parents and paid it, we'd still feel obligated to them, at least a little. Even if our kids paid us back, we'd still feel like we had the right to control them, at least a little.

But man. That g'daraka thing sounds wonderful.

[plussizefantasia]

Troubled Hearts

Read parts One and Two here: Fluttering Hearts Unsure Hearts

Warnings: guy being creepy, threats of violence, drinking (not reader) we're getting into the angst here guys sorry

a/n: hi, hello, I'm alive sorry for falling off the face of the planet. When I went to go grab the link for part two I realized that I hadn't updated this story since JANUARY!?!?! here is my formal apology: sorry. My goal is to have parts four and five up sometime this month so I can be ready to jump into CozyTober when it starts. Anyway, much love I hope y'all are still interested in the story if not I understand.

Kili Durin x Human!Soulmate!reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Kili must hate himself, there is no other reason for why he’s putting himself through this. Months have passed since you had kind of sort of opened up to him and he couldn’t get you to do it again. He’d been spending his nights the same way, a constant presence at the bar. No matter the weather, the dwarf prince would be posted up on a stool. He slowly sipped the same pint throughout the entire evening and his eyes followed you like a hawk. 

You would have thought that his attentions would have waned by now, you’ve been busy with the bar, Brant unable to keep up in his old age. You figure that he was letting you take control. You never really planned to set down roots in Dale, it was supposed to simply be a stop on your journey. 

You had stumbled into the town late one evening and needed a place to stay, despite the tavern not being an inn and not technically having an extra room, Brant was kind enough to let you stay for the night, as long as you worked it off the next day. One night turned into a week, turned into a month and you realized just how much you enjoyed working at the tavern.

You enjoyed feeling needed, even if it was just to refill someone’s glass. You enjoyed putting in effort and watching yourself get better at all the different skills necessary for a place like this, and you enjoyed the subtle anonymity of it all. Nobody really knew why you were there and nobody had really asked either. Your past didn’t follow you and if you were lucky it never would. You had worked hard and carved out a little life for yourself here, a life that you loved.

Well, a life that you loved most of the time. Up until those nights when every man was just a little too drunk, every woman glared just a little too much and your skin felt just a little too wrong on your body. You did your best to let it all fall off your back, to push through and let yourself be lost in your work but you didn’t always succeed.

You were not sure what hour of the night it was, it seemed that within these four walls, time flew and stood still all at once. What you did know however was that you were getting sick of Roland’s jeers and jibes. You were sure that it was his way of flirting, but you had never really ascribed to the type of flirting where you tore the other person down in the hopes that they begged you to build them back up. Roland was a dick. It was as simple as that and if he thought he had a chance with you he was sorely mistaken.

He had yet to get that through his thick skull though. You balanced a tray of pints above your head with one hand and a tray of food in the other. You expertly wove in between patrons, making your way to the back where Roland and his men often gathered.

“Ah, here she is. Lovely lady with a body to match.” He didn’t wait for you to place the tray down on the tabletop next to him. He just reached his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him. His hand digging into the flesh there and making you move towards him to try and get away.

“What do you think lads? Don’t we make a pretty picture?” There were slight nods from the men around you, most of them had eyes only for the ale you were still holding. You noticed that this was often the case. Roland spoke and told stories, he was loud but nobody ever really listened to him.

“I think… that I have more work to do so if you would kindly remove your arm from my waist…” You looked at him, arching an eyebrow. “Before I have to remove it for you.” 

He chuckled deeply in his throat but followed your instruction and released you.

“Alright Gents, here are your pints and your pies, anything else for tonight?” Nobody spoke up, except for a few mutters of thanks. “Well, you know where to find me if that changes.”

You made your way back up to the front of house, sliding behind your bar and releasing a deep breath.

“I don’t understand how you do it.” You look up and into the eyes of the dwarf who just spoke.

“Do what Kili?”

“How you let him treat you like… that like you belong to him.”

You bristle at this. “I belong to nobody but myself Your Highness.”

“I know this, and you know this, but the brute doesn't seem to get it.”

“The brute is manageable Kili, he and his friends give this place far too much business for me to be anything less than civil with them.”

“Civil is fine, I just don’t wish to see you get hurt.”

“I appreciate that Kee, but I can handle myself.” 

“I never thought you couldn’t, I just want you to know that you don’t have to handle everything on your own.”

“I’ve been on my own for a long time, it's not easy to give that up.” You see a customer flag you down a few tables away. “Know this, my dwarf prince, should I need protecting… you’re the one I’d ask.” You smile at Kili and pass him offering him a small smile as you get back to work.

The night continues much the same, people come and go. The group in the back gets steadily more rowdy and you glance at the clock every once in a while hoping that the hands will have moved further than they have.

You serve food and drink to several patrons throughout the night, most kind some not as much. You were being truthful with Kili when you had told him you’d come to him. You just didn't think you’d ever need to. Your past wasn't the nicest and you’d quickly learned to take care of yourself because the people who are supposed to take care of you won’t always be there when you need them to be.

The time flew by faster than you’d thought, you’d apparently been lost inside your head for most of the night. The only light was that of the candles on each table and the fireplace next to the kitchen which was miraculously still lit. You’re not sure how, it's your job to keep it going and you know that you hadn’t stoked it all night. 

The darkness outside creeps into the space and more and more people begin their journey home. All your regulars settle with you or get glared at for their insistence that they’ll pay up next time. Eventually the space empties… mostly. Roland and his friends have settled a little but they still sit vigil in the back of the space, you lost count of how many rounds they’ve had but none of them are belligerent so it couldn’t have been more than eight. 

“Y/N, Another!” One of his comrades yells toward you. You forget his name, Roland’s never-ending cycle of yes men made it difficult to learn names, so at some point, you’d stopped trying.

“I don’t know if you Gent’s noticed, but we’re closed. Go home, I’m sure your wives are wondering where you are.”

“What the old lady doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” The same man yelled out, his remark setting off a burst of laughter from his buddies.

“Come Y/N, one more round and we’ll leave when we’re done.” Roland turned his body to face you and what you imagine to be his attempt at a suave smirk graced his face. 

“Sorry boys, but closed means closed, settle your tabs and go home.” You roll your eyes at the grumbling and whining that come from the group of grown men but do not sway in your decision. One by one they come and hand you some coin, some thank you and some say nothing but all of them leave as they were told.

Roland is the last to come up, as he so often is. “I don’t know why you spend so much time here, if you were mine you’d not have to work one more day in this place.”

“Well, I’m not yours and I like working here.” You place your hand on your hips and cock one out to the side. 

“Yet.” Roland leans over the bar and licks his lips. You lean back in order to put distance between your face and his. 

“Not ever.” You firmly reply. “I am your barmaid nothing more, the sooner you get that the sooner you can move on wooing the other ladies this wonderful town has to offer.”

“Ah, but none of these other ladies stir me as much as you do.” His grin becomes sharper and he moves even closer to you. 

The space behind the bar isn’t very large, big enough for one person really, and with how far he’s leaning you can feel your back brushing against the shelves behind you. 

“The only thing I want from you Roland is payment for your tab and for you to leave.” Your voice carried the weariness that was creeping into your heart, men like Roland rarely took no for an answer. You didn’t want to have to hurt him, it would be hard to explain. 

“Such harsh words darling, I promise I’m not nearly as bad as you think I am.” He reached forward and grasped your wrist. You pulled away instinctively and his grip hardened. “I think you might even like it.” Your face screwed up and you bared your teeth ready to rip out of his hold.

“Get your hand off her.”

Your head whipped to the voice. Kili. Why was he still here? How long had he been here? How much had he seen?

“Piss off runt, this is between me and the lady.” Roland didn’t move his eyes away from you.

“Remove your hand from my One or lose it, you oaf.” Kili growled from the corner of the room. The sharp sound of metal reverberated from the space and if you thought the rage on Kili’s face was intense, it was even more striking with a sword in his grip.

Both you and Roland were looking at the dwarf now. Your lips had parted and your eyes widened. Not only because you were sure blood would be spilled tonight but because of what Kili said. A thousand thoughts ran through your head all in the same second. You had to shake yourself back to the present.

Roland’s grip on your wrist slacked a bit and you took the opportunity to bring your arm to your chest. Your eyes bounced between the two men. You looked around behind the counter, searching desperately for something you could use. You let out a breath when you caught sight of the wooden handle resting on top of a wet rag.

“Pay the lady and leave, like she asked.” Kili took a step closer to the brute his posture reminding you of a coiled snake, muscles tight underneath his skin and ready to strike. 

“I do not take orders from dwarves.” Roland’s voice had deepened, his frustration bleeding through into every syllable. His hand reached out towards the axe holstered on his belt.

“You will either leave here with your dignity, or you will not leave at all. That I can be sure of.”

“Mighty words for an imp.” Roland pulled his axe from his belt and took a step towards Kili. As much as you might like to see the two fight, and you really did.  You needed to stop this before it started. 

You grasped the knife that had been lying on the towel and firmly drove it into the counter in front of you. The noise stopped both men in their tracks and they turned their heads to you, not yet dropping their battle stances.

“Enough. I will not be cleaning any blood off these walls tonight. Roland, you're drunk and daft-  a combination no woman in her right mind would want. Leave and don’t show your face here again. There are plenty of other places to drink, choose one.” You look into his eyes as you rip the knife from the wood, pointing it towards him and gesturing towards the door. 

He grumbles but holsters his axe and begins to leave.

“Oaf, you forget something?” Kili called out to him. You cut your eyes to the dark-haired prince narrowing your gaze on him. “Or are you the type of man to run out on his debt?” 

Roland turns slowly and his hand flexes by his side. He takes a large breath before grabbing a small leather bundle from his coat pocket and throwing it up on the counter. Kili smirks and nods his head. 

Roland lets out a low growl but continues on his path, pushing past the doors and onto the street. You don’t move until he turns the corner. At which point you deflate. Your head falls forward like a puppet without strings and you take a deep breath to soothe your racing heart.

“What was that?” Your question, head still bowed.

“What?” Kili takes a step toward you and you shoot up.

“What was that Kili!?” Your chest heaves with every breath you take. “I had it handled, I don’t need you coming in here and threatening people!”

“He put his hands on you!” Kili shouts.

“So you pull your sword?! I do not need a bodyguard Kili let alone one with a temper as bad as yours.” You throw your hand up and drag one across your forehead. “Know this, Your Highness, I have no intention of being claimed by you.” Kili’s eyes grow wide and he opens his mouth to speak, “Do not think I don’t know what a One is, I have traveled these lands for a very long time.” You interrupt him. “I have been claimed by far too many men far too many times, I told you, I belong to nobody but myself now. Do you understand?” You look into his eyes, waiting for a response.

“I have no intention of claiming you, I simply wish to share my life with you.” 

“That is very sweet Kili, but you don’t me. You cannot possibly wish to spend your life with me.”

“Then let me get to know you.” He pleads, “I have never felt like this before.” He takes several steps towards you, pulling your hand into his own and looking up into your eyes. “They say that being with your One is the greatest joy a dwarrow can know. I have had a taste now, being in your space, speaking with you, hearing your laugh, and seeing you smile. It has made me feel more alive than any battle and made my heart more full than it has ever been. I will not force you into anything, I care for you too much for that but I will plead with you. Please amralime, give me a chance to make you as happy as you make me. Let me stay by your side and know you not just as a friend but as a partner, through all things.”

His words steal the breath from your lungs and the beat from your heart. They make you feel like you're flying and sinking all at the same time. There is a part of you, deep down that is screaming for you to give in, to let him love you. 

“Kili I-” You pause, “I am tired. Tired of a great many things. I-I I think you should go.” You turn from him and blink back the tears that flood your eyes. You hear him sigh followed by the creek of the floorboard he stands on as he shifts his weight. He does not speak though, simply drops his arm from where it had been holding your hand and makes his way to the door. 

You hear it open and your shoulders tense, the chill air floods into the room and nips at your skin. Then the door shuts and you're alone. Not for the first time, you question if this really is all for the best.

taglist: @bunnybabe-babydoll @kokochanel111 @shiinata-library @oneiratxxia10 @targaryenteam @sunnysidesidra @shadowrose13-blog1-blog1

[clemswinecorner-socials]

So Hvar so good [ah]

yourusername

Hvar, Croatia

liked by willne, arthurtv and others

yourusername special thanks to my brother for bringing a bit of home and some company to me during my time abroad xx tagged georgeclarkeey, arthurnfhill, chrismd10, arthurtv

posted june 13th, 2024

chrisfan omg chris went to visit her how cute!! chrismd10 ur welcome mate, i'll bring an English flag as well next time 😂😂 yourfriend okay cutie

yourusername imy already pls come back to visit again

randomfollower this dump absolutely slayed georgeclarkeey good times arthurnfhill come back to london pls dealing with him was much more bearable with you around

yourusername got a while left but will let you know when I'm around xx

... view more comments

yourusername

Hvar, Croatia

liked by arthurnfhill, willne and others

yourusername so hvar so good

posted september 3rd, 2024

yourcousin ?!?! a man ?!?!

yourusername just a friend for now :) yourcousin croatian guy or??? yourusername wait I'll text you about it chrismd10 how about you text me as well

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yourusername definitely not what i said?? i'm sure your roommates will let me in x

... view more comments

yourusername

Hvar, Croatia

liked by chrismd10, theburntchip and others

yourusername one last hvar post before i'm back home

posted october 10th, 2024

chrismd10 are you ever going to tell me about the lad or croatianfriend I'll miss you sm!!

yourusername our aperol dates will happen over facetime <333

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yourusername bff you know i'd never say no to a flight to the sun this just means more holidays together

arthurnfhill london weather will dissapoint you

yourusername i know pls dont remind me

randomfollower y/n replying to everyone but chris i can't

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yourusername

London, UK

liked by arthurtv, georgeclarkeey and others

yourusername back in london init tagged chrismd10, arthurnfhill, theburntchip

posted october 26th, 2024

chrismd10 ON MY FUCKING DINNER TABLE???? chrisfan are you staying with chris?? randomfriend does chris know about the lad yet?

yourusername yes chrismd10 no yourusername you do??? chrismd10 literally don't??? all I know is that there is one

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yourusername i fear that as the relationship develops the insta develops with it🤭🤭🤭

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yourusername

liked by georgeclarkeey, miniminter and others

yourusername bit more hvar bts bc i lowkey miss it tbh tagged arthurnfhill, arthurtv, chrismd10, calfreezy, willne

posted december 16th, 2024

randomfollower is that arthur in picture 3 or am I delusional willne fantastic vibes arthurnfhill me too let's go back

yourusername looking up flights as we speak

chrismd10 y/n.

yourusername i think we need to talk? chirsmd10 d'you reckon? yourusername we're in the living room 😃👍🏻 georgeclarkeey uh oh chrismd10 don't think you're getting away with everything george

croatiabestie what you only miss me lowkey?

yourusername no i miss you highkey its the sunburns i miss only lowkey

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yourusername

Ireland

liked by arthurtv, calfreezy and others

yourusername new year new relationship era (hardlaunching) happy new years lads, im enjoying a short getaway trip with my london boy <3 tagged arthurnfhill

posted january 2nd, 2025

georgeclarkeey hes putting in work, got you onto the Guinness already arthurfan t swift reference iktr chrismd10 happy new year, happy for you lot yourbestfriend favs (pls visit me next) lisahull_hill looks lovely y/n, tell me all about it next week xx arthurnfhill don't have to miss the missus this trip! arthurnfhill love you loads ❤️

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[imagine-darksiders]

Tired dad Ulthane and his adventures with the Human Distribution System makes me smile so hard

Whoever was on the Darksiders dev team missed a great opportunity to record ambient voice lines between the humans and Ulthane that play whenever you go to the tree.

Some examples off the top of my head.

"Hey. It's... Ulthane, right? I-I'm Mary."

"Pleasure to make yer acquaintance, Lass."

"Ha... Likewise. Um... Listen, I don't think I ever thanked you... for bringing me to this place. And for, you know, saving my life."

[Suddenly bashful] "Ah, no need to thank me. Just... [clears throat] glad I got to you in time..."

"Yeah... Yeah, me too."

------

"Get out of the way, Ulthane."

"Can't do that, younglin'."

"Bullshit. You can't stop me. I have to go, I can't just sit in this tree while he might still be out there somewhere!"

"If I let you leave this tree, you'll die."

"You don't know that!"

"... And what if he turns up while you're gone? Hm? You think he'd want to find you missin'?"

"Don't do that. Don't use him to make me stay. You don't know what he'd want."

"Would he want you riskin' your life tryin' to find him? Or would he want you to be safe?"

".... I... I.... Oh, Sam."

------

"Hey, how did you get on with that list I gave you?"

"Got most of the stuff on it. The pictures were a nice touch, by the way. Made findin' things a wee bit easier."

"Oh! Well... Happy to help.... So. Um..."

[knowing chuckle] "The supplies are with the other rations, up in the hollow."

"Thanks, Ulthane. You're the best."

"Ach, I don't know 'bout that."

"Literally. The. Best."

------

"Hey you! Giant."

"Tiny."

"Oh, very funny. Say, how come you're not out there searching for more survivors?"

"Just got back. Elanya's goin' out in a bit. Someone's gotta stay behind and protect the tree."

"Some of us can stay and watch it! You should be out there looking for people!"

".... We're doin' everything we can, lad."

"I know!... I.... [muffled sob] I know... I just... I miss her."

"... If she's alive out there, we'll find her."

"Yeah.... sure."

-------

"Hey, big guy? You know there's a demon hanging around right outside the door."

"Aye, I'm keepin' an eye on him. But... if you see him causin' any trouble, you come tell me, got it?"

"Heh. Sure."

-----

"Oi, what's that you've got there?"

"Oh! Um... It's... just a radio... I've been tinkering with it... trying to get it to work. Maybe see if there's anyone else out there... Look. I-I know it's silly, but-"

"No, no, it's not, it's... [deep sigh] Listen, if you... need any help with it, makers are pretty handy. Just have to ask, okay?"

"Oh... Okay. Thanks, Ulthane."

-------

"Still no luck with that... wassit called? A radio?"

"Hmm? Oh... Hi Ulthane. No, no luck yet but... that might just be because they're only able to broadcast on a certain frequency for, like, a few minutes at a time right? Saving power or... something? I-I just need to keep searching."

"Well... All right... But don't stay up too late listen' to it again. You look like you didn't catch a wink o' sleep last night."

"Okay, Dad."

-------

"Say, what happened to your radio?"

"... I tossed it."

"Now why'd you do that?"

"I dunno. Figured it'd be more useful to strip it for spare parts.... I wasn't gonna hear anything on there anyway."

"...Y'know, just 'cause you didn't hear anythin', don't mean nobody's out there."

"..... Hey... Ulthane? Do you think we're gonna be okay?"

"Course you're gonna be okay. You've got me at the helm, don't ya? Old Ulthane's got a plan to set you humans back on track... Just have to trust me, eh?"

"We do trust you. And... thanks. I feel better."

"S'what I'm here for."

-------

[If you find 10 survivors]

"Getting a bit busy in here now, isn't it? A lot of new faces."

"Busy? Hmm. If you need me to carve out another chamber for extra space, I can-"

"-No! Ulthane, that's not... It's okay. I wasn't complaining. Busy is good. I prefer busy."

"... Aye, I'm with you there."

-------

[If you find all the survivors]

"I can't believe there's so many of us now! I didn't think this many people would have survived!"

"Mmhm, the Horseman's been busy. S'nice to have a lot of wee ones knockin' about the tree."

"You make us sound like a bunch of children."

[Gentle laugh] "If you knew how old I was, Lad, you'd feel like a bunch of children."

[penelopepine]

Don't be a stranger! Pt. 5

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Simon "Ghost" Riley x FemReader

Content: Neighbors AU, fluff, developing relationship, slight angst, mentioned past deaths

Upon entering the room Simon sees that Johnny and Gaz are already there talking to one another. Silently walking inside he takes a seat next to the others and places the box in front of them all. 

“What’s this?” Gaz looks from Simon to the box. 

“Cookies, I’ve been told I have to share.” 

“These aren’t poisoned are they? Who are they from?”

"They're from his new lady friend! Ain’t that right Ghost?" Johnny interjects before he could answer. 

It seems Johnny was still hunting for gossip about who it was that sent him a package, “Quiet down, MacTavish.” 

Johnny and Gaz share a laugh between the two of them before both reach out for one of your treats. He had debated actually sharing these with them as he knows they'll be asking for more now. They'll start asking about you, and he won't be able to give them a clear answer; not yet anyway. 

“Tell your lass that these are heavenly Lt.!” Johnny moans out as he takes a bite of one of your cookies. 

The regret of sharing is already rearing its head it seems. He glares at the man and says, "MacTavish." 

It was Gaz who noticed his discomfort right away from the other sergeant's comment. "Come on now, Soap don't antagonize him; Ghost will share what he wants when he's ready." He gives Simon a quick reassuring nod, "but really thank them for us for making these!" 

"Will do." 

It was at that moment when Price finally stepped inside the room as well, "Good evening lads, what's the reason for this?" He points at the box of treats in front of them with a questioning look on his face. 

Johnny clearly goes to answer the question before Gaz hits him on the chest with a pointed look. He then looks towards him, clearly leaving Simon to answer with whatever he felt comfortable admitting about you. "A friend." 

Price seemed shocked for a moment that he had even said that much, "Ah a friend; well you'll have to introduce sometime." 

"Hmm." 

Later he tells himself; later he would introduce you to the team. Once the two of you have spent more time together, maybe once the two of you were together. 

Price claps his hands together once as he makes his way towards the front, “Now, let’s get started shall we!" The projector is turned on and the picture of a man appears on the screen.  "This here is the man we're hunting for, and Laswell estimates this will be a 2 week op. So prepare yourselves for that lads."

-

It was the next day when Simon tried to call you. He hoped with each ring that you would pick up, he didn't want to leave you with a voice message before disappearing from you. Hearing your voice one last time before leaving would also ease his mind while away. 

Just as he was about to give up and started to mentally prepare what he was going to say to you. 

"Hey Simon! Everything ok, you're calling me a lot earlier than you normally would?" You sound worried, which is exactly the opposite of what he wants right now. 

"Love, everything is alright. Just letting you know that I'm not going to be available for a few weeks." 

It's quiet for a few seconds before you respond, "When are you getting sent out?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"You'll be safe won't you?"

"I'll do my best." Simon would do anything for you; all you needed to do was ask, "and I'll always have a piece of you to remind me to do that." He smiles down at the bracelet, and lightly fidgets with the heart charm.

You give a soft laugh over the phone, "You'll have to make me one next time you’re here. That way I'll have a piece of you too." 

He promises to himself that he'll do that for you. As soon as this op is finished he's going to talk to Price about going on leave again. The man already has an idea of what is going on so hopefully he won't question him too much. Considering every other time he was practically dragged off base and forced to go on leave. 

"I will, love. I'll also see how soon I can visit again after I get back to base." 

"Just let me know when and I'll be there to walk you home from the car!" 

The two of you continue to talk for a few more minutes before saying your goodbyes to one another. He can't wait to finish this op and get home to you. 

-

The last two weeks have been absolute hell, but it was all hopefully going to come to an end in just a few hours. All there was to do now was wait; which led him to laying down right next to Johnny as they watched the warehouse. 

“I spy with my little eye something…blue.” Johnny whispers next to him. This has been going on for 10 mins now and he was debating with himself if killing the sergeant would be worth it. 

“Johnny.” 

“Wrong, guess again.” 

Killing him is becoming more and more worth it, “Hush.” 

“You’re no fun Lt.” Johnny pouted before changing into a gin, “How’s Beads doing by the way?” 

“Beads?” 

Johnny points to where the bracelet usually sits on his wrist, “Beads, your lass!” 

Simon had almost forgotten that he had seen the bracelet while he was moving it to a more secured pocket on his vest. “If I tell you, will you stop being so annoying about this?”

“Cross my heart!” 

"Beads," He doesn't necessarily like the nickname, but he doesn't feel comfortable saying your name right now, "Is doing good. She loved the rock you tripped over." 

"You fucking sent her that rock?"

"It's displayed in her living room and everything." 

When Johnny doesn't immediately respond he looks towards him only to see a soft look gracing his face. "You really like this lass don't you?"  

That is what scared him, because he did care about you. He tried to fight it at first; the two of you were never meant to interact after he helped you in your flat. Then the daily morning walks to your work started right after, and he couldn't avoid you after that. “I might.” 

"That's a love confession coming from you." 

"Maybe it is." He whispers to himself, but based on Johnny's shocked face he probably heard as well. 

"Ghost-" 

“Target spotted; get ready to move in.” Price's voice comes over the comms interrupting whatever Johnny was going to say.

The topic is immediately dropped after that, and two of them focus on the task once more.

-

When the plane finally landed back on base Simon made a beeline to his locker to get his phone. Admittedly the talk with Johnny did help him sort out some of his feelings that he had for you. Simon was going to try and get a hard read on you when he goes on leave again; try and see if you were also wanting to take the friendship to the next level. 

Turning on his phone he sees that he has a few texts and a voicemail message from you. Reading the text first; there are simple updates about your work and random thoughts you’ve had throughout the day. It was the voicemail that made Simon’s blood go cold. 

“Hey Simon,” you sound nervous, that's the first thing he picks up on, “Can you give me a call when you get this. A couple of Russian guys came by today asking about you. I don’t want to worry you, but they were asking a lot of strange questions. Stuff about where you were, and when you would be getting back. It’s probably nothing, but I just felt like I should tell you. I’ll talk to you later…Bye.” 

Panic was the only thing going through Simon right now. Quickly checking he sees that the voice message was from a few days ago. 

“Fuck!” For all he knew you could be dead right now. He couldn’t go home just to see another person he cared about dead on the floor again. 

He calls you; each unanswered ring is just another nail in your coffin. 

“Hello.” 

Taglist: @nexthyperfix @yourdaydreamerfan @tf141gloryhole @just-pure-trash @definitelynotaclown

@arminarlertssword @openup-yourmind

[wantondoe]

The Lady and the Host

I wanted to write a series about the time Alastor still lived. It would be an Alastor x reader story. Due to the plot, the reader is depicted to be a female. I will put trigger warnings in the beginning of each post. As always, I'm open to requests.

Plot: Alastor, the charming local radio host meets the upper class lady (you) who studies medicine in a university. He is immediately drawn to her ambition and bluntness. But he has a dark double identity as a ruthless serial killer. He hopelessly falls for her while also struggling to keep his secrets.

Chapter 1: Darling

Once again, Alastor was late for work. He dragged his slender body through the streets of New Orleans while the buses were honking and children were running around. The crowd of busy men and women were darting around. A group of young women were somewhere behind him, waving their hands while glancing towards him with flirty looks.

He managed to slip away from the fangirls, walking through the door that would take him to a narrow spiral staircase. He ran up the stairs, taking long leaps. He slammed the door open and hung his coat, still maintaining his charming smile at his coworker, who was sitting in front of the microphones with a sour look.

"Ah, Ted my dear coworker! I'm afraid I ran late again eh-"

"Cut it Alastor! And it's Theodore!" the sour-faced middle-aged man snapped. "This is the third time this week you're late!"

"Now now, no need to pout my buddy! We still have time before the broadcast!" Alastor took a seat next to him.

"We have time because I set everything ready!" Ted folded his arms. "What's keeping you so busy? Did the ladies stop you on the streets again?"

"Ah, you're sharp aren't you, my friend? Yes, some lovely ladies really wanted me to know that I'm the most charming radio host in all Louisiana-"

"Yes, yes, we all know that everyone loves you!" Ted rolled his eyes.

"Worry not my buddy, the people love you as well! You're the original voice of radio after all!"

"Whatever, lad", Ted muttered. "Okay, we're going live in 10...9..."

"Oh, by the way I'll leave early today because I have to attend this party!"

Ted stiffened in his chair, his eyed widening. "YOU WHAT NOW?"

"Ah, good morning New Orleans! Good to be on air, absolutely terrific!" Alastor spoke smoothly while Ted was muttering curses away from his microphone.

That was just a typical morning for Alastor, the young prominent radio host of New Orleans. He had gotten so popular that he had started to get invitations to parties. He had made some significant acquaintances that helped him further develop in his career. Being a charming, talented, young man he was really making a name for himself.

Fixing his red bow, he stepped in through the heavy doors, entering a large ball room area. It was lit by heavy chandeliers. Well-dressed ladies and gentlemen were mingling around with champagne glasses in hand, while loud jazz music was playing. This was the kind of party where upper class men and women came to misbehave, to drink and dance without any shame.

Alastor genuinely enjoyed a good party. Even though Alastor came from wealth as well, he still found the people a tad stuffy. It could be difficult to find people with original thoughts in a place like this. He started his so-called "hunt" to find new, like-minded people.

As Alastor mingled and walked through the crowd, it came apparent that he already knew everyone. He kept up his flashy smile and charming persona, while on the inside, her was bored to death.

Alastor was a man who seemed to have it all, a career, admirers, wealthy family, friends, the looks and brains... But in fact, he was just a shell of a person, no better than the stuffy Louisianans. He strutted across the floor, searching for a new face. He had almost finished his champagne, when he saw you, the most fascinating sight of the evening. He hadn't seen something as adorable for a while, the way the silk of your dress danced around your legs as you turned around to meet the people around was simply beautiful. The colors of your outfit complimented your skin that seemed to glow under the dim lights. He walked closer, taking in your hair that was neatly combed behind your ear and secured with a pin. The moment he saw you smile through your sparkling eyes, he knew he had to talk to you.

He took confident steps to you, making sure to try to smile with his eyes as well. He watched the group of people leave your side before walking closer, closing the remaining distance between you two.

"Ah, dear, I believe I haven't seen you around before! Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you, quite the pleasure!" he said his usual greeting, kissing the back of your hand with grace. He gazed at you, trying to read your expression.

"Pleasure", came your short answer. You didn't seem too impressed, which irritated Alastor. He was used to people basically worshiping him. "And my name is..."

"Oh, what a lovely name! Just darling! What is a pretty lady such as yourself doing here all alone?"

"Well, I like being alone", came your bold answer. Alastor chuckled.

"Oh, I see", he hummed.

Quite honestly, you were tired of these young, entitled men flirting with you. It seemed as if all of them were the same. Alastor was quick to notice your disinterest, which bruised his ego.

"Shall I ask you for a dance?" he asked.

"Well..." you averted your gaze, looking a little flustered.

"Please.... Darling", the latter word rolled on his tongue like sweet poison. He smiled slyly, his gorgeous eyes half-lidded. He was like a businessman buttering someone up.

You made the mistake of looking at his face. The moment you saw his ridiculously handsome face, you knew you had lost. He might act like every other young man, but his looks were simply out of this world. His dark skin looked incredibly smooth, and you couldn't help but let yourself wonder how it would feel under your fingertips-

"Darling", Alastor repeated, chuckling. He had noticed your drifting mind. It was something young ladies such as you often did when looking at him. He was pleased to say the least. Finally you were paying attention to him. "Please, dance with me", he pleaded, offering his hand.

"Well I suppose I could, but only this time- WOAH!"

You were being yanked towards the dance floor by Alastor, who was grinning widely, his eyes loving as he gazed down at you. You were surprised by his spontaneous ways. You felt your face flush as he pressed his warm torso against you, leading the way on the dance floor. The fast phased jazz music was keeping them moving fast, their legs almost tangling. Alastor was quickly bringing you out of your shell, and you didn't mind.

Somehow, Alastor managed to make you loosen up like you had never before. All the stress from the week seemed to vanish as he held your wist on the dance floor. As the music slowed down, the tension between you and Alastor grew. He wasn't taking his eyes off you, holding you like you were the most precious thing.

"Shall we get some fresh air, darling?"

Alastor led the way to a cozy garden. There were a few wooden benches, roses were growing all around, making the air smell floral and romantic. The garden was lit up by lamps and the cool, calming moonlight. Alastor sat you on a bench before sitting next to you, sneaking his arm around your waist. Usually you would have snapped at anyone who dared to touch you in such intimate way. But for some reason, his touch didn't feel vile or bothersome.

"Darling", he hummed, holding you close. It was as if he had already decided that you were soulmates. Maybe you were. "I',m so glad I met you."

"Oh Alastor, don't get all cheesy now", you warned playfully.

"I can't help it, dear. You make me a hopeless romantic!" he exclaimed with a theatrical hand gesture.

You two continued sitting in the rose garden, enjoying the evening together. Eventually, you felt your eyelids get heavier, your body relaxing against his warmth. You let out a small, adorable yawn.

Alastor chuckled softly. "I see you are getting tired, my darling. Shall I walk you home?" he suggested, helping you stand up. "Come on, doll. I'll make sure you get home safe and sound!"

Alastor walked you through the streets. You watched the lights from restaurants and bars light up the narrow street, feeling warm and cozy. You braced yourself for the part where you two would walk by a smaller side alley. That alley always made you feel alerted. Your heartbeat quickened as you two passed the shady alleyway, Alastor's grip on your hand tightening.

"Just walk with me, darling", Alastor whispered, leading you past the shady part.

You felt the effect of the champagne wear off, your tipsy haze clearing up. Suddenly you realized that you didn't even know this Alastor so well. You knew he was an upper class man who had his successful radio show. You knew he was a popular one in the high society. But that was all superficial... You started getting this odd, creepy feeling as the night suddenly turned eerily quiet, only the faint sound of wind filling the air. You slowly gazed up to him and saw his smiling at you, his eyes gleaming in the dark. You forced a smile and looked away, trying to maintain some sort of composure.

"Darling, you've gone awfully quiet", he pointed out, his voice calm.

You were still young, but not stupid. You knew that the world could be a cruel, unjust place, especially for women. So, you started playing horror scenarios in your mind. Alastor was a tall man, he could easily-

No. You had to stop thinking about it like that. He wouldn't do anything, would he? Alastor had seemed so sweet, so genuinely caring....

"This is your house, right? 13B?"

You snapped out of your thoughts as Alastor stopped in front of the house you lived in. The familiar neighborhood immediately brought some sense of comfort to you. The atmosphere got lighter and you abandoned the dark thoughts that you've had earlier.

"Yes, this is it", you muttered nervously.

"Well, Miss, it had been quite the pleasure!" he grinned, kissing the back of her hand once again. "I expect to see you soon again, darling", he said, his voice low and seductive.

"Y-yeah. Good night."

"Good night, darling", he wished, his voice almost a whisper. He turned on his heels, walking back into the darkness.

After he had disappeared from sight, you let out a loud sigh. You were safe, you were okay. The front door of the house opened and your maid called for you. You happily ran inside the comforts of your home, the lovely night spent together with Alastor still fresh in your mind.

Meanwhile Alastor walked along the quiet streets, embracing the creepy atmosphere. He whistled a sinister rhyme, his hands shifting in his pockets.

Alastor could be the sweetest angel when he wanted to. he would sweet talk even the coldest person until they melted for him. He could make anyone trust him and he was excellent at controlling the way people saw him. But like everyone, he had his secrets too. He dragged his lean body in a side alley, his narrow shadow following. A hand was swung, blood was shed and soon after that, quick steps followed.

Now that Alastor had finally found someone, you, that made him feel something, he would make sure to eliminate any threats out of your way. Even if that meant getting his hands dirty. Alastor if anyone really hated making a sloppy mess!

"Anything for my darling..."

[evilminji]

Back at it again with the BNHA crossover Ponderings!

Nedzu is LITERALLY one of THE smartest beings on the planet, right? Like... he's probably on some internationally recognized list of Top Planetary IQs? Which is why Japan let's him get away with so much?

Cause they REALLY fucked him over, he has the power to leave, and that would be really, REALLY bad Brain Drain wise/politically for the Japanese Government? (Also pls don't become a Supervillian we literally can not afford that, Mr. Nedzu Sir? Etc etc)

You think he has... like? Chats? With the OTHER top intellects? Some kid in Siberia with the New Super Intelligence Quirk his parents can't begin to even handle, gets put in history's WEIRDEST group chat? I like to think so.

But the REASON I ask this?

What hero do you call? For Weird Shit in international waters?

Suspicious, floating, weirdly two dimensional and HIGHLY radioactive... corrosive... green goop? Rings? Orbs? CAN it be an orb if it's two dimensional? It certainly LOOKS like there is depth to it... somehow...

A THING. In the sky.

Shouldn't be there, man. This is a shipping lane. It's scaring the people on passing ships. No one knows what Quirk could have made this. Might be a trafficking victim's call for help. Might be a first Quirk Use mishap. They need to know what it IS and how to get rid of it.

They go the normal routes first. Doesn't work. Okay, call in some professionals. Kinda pricey, but no big. Right? Doesn't work. Okaaaay, call in a SPECIALIST. REAL pricey, but this thing is holding up international trade, making people in fancy ass suit all Nervous(TM).

Doesn't Work.

Specialist tells um to not to bother with calling anyone else on their normal list. Is looking at the green goo like it spat on his mother and called his dog a whore. They would prefer he NOT make that facial expression. That is a facial expression that will get them yelled at by their bosses. Fuck(TM).

Now Politics(TM) are involved. People want to STUDY the green goo. Harness it for dubious and unknown green goo experiments. Poke it with their Quirk to see what'll happen. There's fuckin REPORTER with no concept of self-preservation, trying to get CLOSER to the RADIOACTIVE POISON GOO.

Fuckin Heros have shown up.

Why are you bastards even HERE. What? Are you peacocks gonna PUNCH it? Get off their rig! Stop posing in front of the GOO!

Then? Oh thank GOD. The SMART people show up. Certified, highest grade, triple refined, PREMIUM Nerds(TM). The WAY above our pay grade folks. We're SAVED! Can we PLEASE go home now? We are just ocean cleaners! Our job is debris! Not weird GOO!

Enter, stage Super Cool Helicopters? The Elite Nerds of Earth. Of which Nedzu is one. Since Japan is closest. And it's a school weekend! He had some time.

And?

Ha ha... Thanks, he hates it! Nedzu's stoat brain is SCREAMING and he wants NOTHING to do with...? What he is somehow CERTAIN is a floating pit of Death! Interesting effect. Anyone getting that or just him?

Then? Some hot head on loan to Korea from the states? Spots something. SomeONE. And does he TELL the newly arrived professionals? So they may do a risk assessment? Figure out a way to rescue this individual SAFELY? Of course not!

Said hot head has supposedly indescribable chains! So he just flings them rights on in! Grabbing the boy from the center of the portal, pulling him free, and in the process? Immediately destabilizing it. Causing it to collapse down towards everyone bellow.

He also then proceeds to DROP the young lad, in his alarm at this entirely predictable outcome.

Right. Into. The Ocean.

A boy, who is dressed in filthy medical scrubs, haunting familiar in a way nothing should EVER be again, and entirely unconscious. Plunge down into the briny deeps and bitter cold. Alone. Abandoned. Death, thick and viscous, losing form and raining down like bile.

Everyone saving themselves.

Ah, he rather liked this suit.

The salt water ruins it. The droplets of Green, burn like molten glass each time they touch him. He will likely have at least a few new scars, after today. Assuming this is not the end of him. But he swims fast. The boy sinking slower then his size would suggest he should. He grabs hold and arcs, dragging them both from beneath the fallout of yet another humans hubris.

He does not stop swimming. Not until he knows he is near the helicopter. He is thankful, that he dragged Aizawa along. The man takes one look at his serious expression, the state of his rescued young friend, and merely hauls them both out of the water and into the machine.

Time to go.

They saw nothing, it seems. And there is nothing to be found.

The boy does not wake. Not for quite a while. Long enough, that Nedzu, perhaps unwisely, has grown attached. Is considering adoption. If only too terrorize a few goverment bodies. And... well... the boy will need some who UNDERSTANDS. And the scars paint a very specific sort of tale. But first, the most important question, when beginning these things...

"Tea? Or would you prefer coffee?"

@the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation @hypewinter @hdgnj

[steam-beasts]

The Chaos Continues

Sir Topham Hatt stared silently at the sight of what he was mostly sure were his engines, hugging eachother for comfort in their strange new bodies.

Bertram had went through many things during his time as controller; nearly losing the No.1 of his railway not once, not twice, but five times. Finding out some of his diesel engines were holding some of his steam engines hostage, getting his office blown up thanks to a former Navy man, witnessing his very expensive top link express engine nearly have a boiler explosion, having to go hunt his tank engine that was kidnapped by a rally car, dealing with one of his engines having a meltdown over the changes. The last and most stressful thing he went through was being forced to watch his poor engines practically mutate into beastly creatures and abandon them for nearly two years.

Now, it was this.

You know what? He needed to sit down. Sir Topham Hatt groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose as he simply made his way back to his office, he didn't want to deal with this right now. As soon as he got there, he didn't even bother with shutting the door and sat down at his desk "...oh dear, oh dear...why do things like these keep happening..?" He groaned, rubbing his temple. Sometimes he wished he could've done more to prevent any of this from happening, but then again, how could he have known this would happen?

Before he could try to think of anything else, the stationmaster suddenly ran into his office, looking quite stressed out "Sir! There's trouble in the sheds!"

Sir Topham Hatt's eyes widened and his throat felt dry, he almost dreaded to ask, but he tried to keep his composure as he stood up "What's happening?"

The stationmaster looked very hesitant "Emily, Edward, Henry and Gordon. Th-They...well...erm" Topham walked up to him, stern but anxious. The stationmaster yelped as the stout gentleman pulled him down to eye level "My engines have what?! Spit it out, lad!"

"I believe it would be better if you saw for yourself, Sir"

________________

Down at Tidmouth, each the engines' crews were standing outside their respective engine's berth, muttering anxiously to one other. They could hear their engines letting out distressed whistles from inside, but wanted Sir Topham Hatt to see to it. Edward's oldest crew, Charlie Sand Jr and Sidney Heaver Jr noticed Thomas's new crew, Mr Conductor and Junior coming out from around the corner.

"Ah, Mr C!" Charlie exclaimed, jogging over to the pixie man "Charlie, is something wrong?" Mr Conductor asked, quickly noticing the worry."Well...yes, actually. You see, um... we're in a bit of a–"

"Oh! Are ye's on strike? I dinnae think Hattie would be too happy aboot that!" Junior interrupted cheekily, earning a small glare from Mr Conductor. Charlie rolled his eyes "No, we're waiting for Sir, actually. Because..." He then glanced at the sheds "...well, something has happened to our engines" he admitted.

"What's going on with Edward?" The conductor asked. Sidney then spoke up "It's not just Edward. Something happened to Gordon and Henry as well, and Emily too" Junior quickly frowned, now realising the matter was probably serious "They... they cannae be gaun feral again, can they? Ah thought we sorted that oot?". Charlie shook his head "No, they're mentally ok. Physically?...I'd rather not say until Sir Topham Hatt's arrived"

Mr Conductor winced and gazed over at the shut doors of Edward's berth, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Conveniently, they saw Sir Topham Hatt driving up to the sheds in his car. As soon as he parked, he came jogging out, trying to keep his hat on his head. As soon as he reached the ground of men and women before him, he took a deep breath, carefully looking at their expressions to assume the severity of the situation before speaking "Alright. What's all the fuss?"

Charlie Sand carefully approached the fat controller and guided him to Gordon's berth doors, opening the door by a few cracks "They're in here, Sir" he said quietly, worry evident on his face. Sir Topham Hatt nodded gravely and stepped inside.

He felt his heart sink to his stomach and skip a beat as soon as he saw them. Edward, Henry and Gordon had went through the same fate as Percy and the others. They were pressed up against the back wall, huddled close to each other. They stared down at Sir Topham Hatt, fear evident in their eyes.

"...Sir?" Edward whispered, the first one to say anything. Edward was quite a skinny looking creature, but he was a little bit top-heavy and quite muscular, as well as fit looking for his age, so were the other two. Though, Gordon and Henry were both on the heavier side.

"Sir...please, I-I don't know what happened to us. We were normal for one minute and the next...this" Edward explained, understandably shaken. Sir Topham put his hand up to silence him, and so he did.

"I'm not mad, Edward. Not at any of you..." he began, masking his own worry "I understand that this was out of your control, but we'll just have to make do for now. Now, where's Emily?"

Henry whimpered and pointed "She's over there, Sir..."

Topham looked over to where Henry pointed. Indeed, Emily was there, and naked. She was basically a giant naked lady. Sir Topham Hatt quickly and for Emily's sake, looked away as soon as he caught a glimpse of her body, coughing with embarrassment "Ahem! Erm...hello, Emily" he coughed.

"Oh, hello, Sir!"

Sir Topham Hatt knew this was gonna be a long week...

To be continued...

[muddyorbsblr]

a tale of ice baths and hot sauce

See my full list of works here!

Placement: the day after 'a sizing mishap'

Summary: An effort is made to find out who your mystery boyfriend is during the Elementals challenge when some members of the staff see some marks on your neck that weren't there before…

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: language [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: mango mention (no really i did that here lol); bit of insecurity from Reader if you squint

"You think anyone would notice if I just pinched a chip from the bowl?" you joked while setting up the table for the Elementals-themed challenge that a handful of the Soccer Aid players were going to voluntarily subject themselves to with Joelah, the host for most if not all the promo videos for this event. You raised an eyebrow playfully at her when she approached the table with a giddy little skip in her step, practically twirling in her outfit of relaxed fit jeans and a diagonal cut asymmetrical crop top. "Please tell me where you go shopping I'm in desperate need of cuter clothes. I mean, 'raiding the boyfriend's closet chic' is cute and all but…I also drown in fabric whenever I do it."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Y/N, I think you're faring pretty damn fine if I do say so myself." She waved a hand at your current getup of a cropped loose olive green halter top and a black ruffle skort. "Players seem to enjoy it well enough," she mumbled with a lower tone, as if warning you that you were currently being ogled. "Oy! Eyes on the ball, you pervy lads!"

"Thanks," you told her with a smile, pulling your hair into a ribbon so that it wouldn't stick to your sweaty neck. "Now…do you wanna share with the class why you were skipping--"

"Bloody hell, Y/L/N, your neck!" she gasped, pointing at the right side of your neck and collarbone. "You didn't have that when I last saw you yesterday--Oh my lordy me, you hooked up with someone here! Is it one of the players? That social media star on the World team? One of the pros? Sam Claflin??"

"No on all fronts, Jo," you laughed off her questions. "My boyfriend's working the event, too. I was with him." Her jaw dropped to the ground with your revelation. "We're keeping things a bit…low key, you know?"

"Oh you and your secrets," she teased, still motioning toward your neck. "If that isn't a sign that screams 'Horny blokes step the fuck back', I haven't the faintest idea what is. Anyways, what were you asking earlier?"

"Ah, right. I was gonna ask why were you skipping on your way here like you were back in school and teacher just gave you a gold star?"

"Oh…Oh! Because I just got the players for the Elementals Fire and Ice challenge and Number 6 lit'rally up and volunteered to represent Team England." She made a motion fanning herself. "That godly bod dripping wet and clothes just clinging to him? Lordy me have mercy. And whoever put him in the teeniest jersey and shorts imaginable, I just wanna eurgh! Wanna grab 'em and thank 'em to the high heavens, y'know? Thank 'em for their service."

You are very welcome, you thought to yourself.

"Maybe if you leave an iced coffee on the table and go pspspsps they'll acknowledge your gratitude," you joked, once again pointing to the chips. "I'm taking a pinch. And trying out these sauces, I've been deadly curious since yesterday."

"You take the green one, I'll take one of the reds," she offered, already getting a large chip for herself and placing a few drops of the brighter red condiment. When you had placed a dollop of the green hot sauce onto your own chip, you clinked your pieces together before taking thing whole and bracing for the worst. "Fuck all that is hellish!" she mumbled around her piece, eyeing you incredulously while you just continued on chewing and letting the taste of the sauce linger for a moment or two. "How in the…"

You grabbed all the bottles and looked over the labels with a scrutinizing eye. "The green's deceptive. Makes you think you're getting the milder one but it's got the highest level of Scoville units. I feel sorry to whoever's gonna end up with that."

There was some motion from the corner of your eye, which you quickly realized were the camera crew and some other members of the staff carting around numerous 10 gallon bottles of water and 3 drums. And following just behind them were the six players slated to play this little trivia game. You gave them all a little wave and a courteous smile, making sure to hold eye contact with each of them, and saving Tom for last so you could allow yourself the indulgence of holding his gaze for a fraction of a moment longer, which he returned with a small wave and an obviously deliberate infinitesimal twitch of his two middle fingers.

"Goodness, Y/L/N," one of the staff members, Allen, bellowed. "What happened to--"

"My neck?" you finished for him. "Don't worry about it. My boyfriend thinks himself a vampire," you answered with a casual shrug, earning you a round of chuckles from the rest of the crew and the players. You motioned toward the water drums. "Should we get that all set up then?"

"Oh. Yeah, for sure." He waved his arm toward the drums as well. "Have at it."

"I could help you," Scarlette chimed in, already taking the end of the drum in front of you and jutting her chin in the direction of your neck. "I didn't see that on you yesterday when I picked up my uniform. I take it your boyfriend's somewhere in the building then?" She capped off her question with a cheeky wiggle of her eyebrows.

"Yes, and I'm not saying a single word on where and who he is. But I won't deny it if anyone guesses correctly. The only catch though…you only get two guesses each," you offered, looking at both her and Joelah.

"Claflin," Scarlette spoke immediately, causing the other one to make a motion as if to stop her but all too late.

"Aaaaand that's one wrong guess. Also makes you the second person in this place to for some reason think that I'm bumping uglies with Finnick Odair."

"I could've told you it's not Mister Clock App, or Claflin…or any of the pros," Joelah grumbled out. "We're down to three."

You two set up the last of the water drums, making sure that they were equidistant from one another, and after thanking Scarlette you moved toward the massive water bottles to start filling them up. "Let me help you," Tom spoke up, already placing his hands under the bottle, brushing his hands across yours before taking most of the weight of the bottle and leading you both toward the drum. "You reckon they'll guess me, darling?" he asked under his breath.

"Absolutely not," you answered, keeping your voice down. "I don't think they'll even consider it a possibility that I can pull you."

"Personally I think you pull me just fine," he shot back, smirking when you had to suppress a chortle from his words. "More than fine, actually."

"Menace," you hissed, trying to covertly take deep breaths while the two of you walked to the next bottle and repeated the process.

"Only for you, sweetheart."

"Okay you must be built all kinds of different, because I don't think I coulda kept my wits about me being that close him with the guns on full display, and in close proximity to…what was it the internet called it again?"

"The mango?" you prompted Joelah, causing you both to break out in stifled giggles while waiting for the camera crew to finish setting up.

"Yes! And I saw that little hand brushing, too I mean—how were you not absolutely swooning the second he walked up to the bottle? Hell, how did you even function?"

I have been under those guns on full display and touched more than just his hand, you thought to yourself, holding your words back and instead gave her a little shrug. "Worked with him before. You get used to it," you bluffed. "Besides, I've got someone, and I'm really happy and stupid in love. So there's that, too."

"We need a hand here!" Scarlette called out in your general direction, her and Bugzy already on their feet but pointing at Tom who for some unknown reason, currently had both feet sticking up and out of the drum and putting him in a position that made it exceedingly more difficult for him to get up and out of the drum.

"How in the actual fuck did he even get like that?" you started thinking aloud. A strangled noise slipped from your mouth the second his head dipped below the water and his hands lost their grip on the edge of the drum.

You knew that he would be able to find his way back up, but it didn't stop the way your heart caught in your throat. The way that your legs were involuntarily twitching as if taking on a mind of their own and urging you to make your way to him.

If he hadn't stuck his head back out from under the water just a few seconds later, you would have been more than ready to run to him and help him to his feet, check on him the way he often checked on you when he would see you short of breath on set. You wouldn't have given a damn about the cameras capturing your every move.

But instead you were frozen in place, watching as he ascended and took a big heaving breath, shaking the water from his hair and his eyes before finding your gaze. You were suddenly acutely aware of nearly every minute movement of your body trying to fight back every reaction you had to the excessively obvious bedroom eyes he was giving you, resorting to subtly digging what little fingernail you had into the palm of your hand to at least focus on something else until he looked away.

You moved the moment you clocked the excitement on the faces of Joelah as well as some female members of the staff, already undoubtedly about to speak up that they would gladly help him out. "Can we cut?" you hollered toward the cameraman, who responded to you with a simple thumbs up, pressing a button on his equipment that stopped recording. You quickly whipped out your phone and snapped a picture of Tom in the precarious position before you reached him.

"Really, Y/N?" he huffed, feigning exasperation but you knew that tone better than any other person around you at the moment. He was amused. And you would be in trouble later tonight. You even began to doubt if you could completely walk properly in the morning or if you would walk into the briefing area with a more than slight penguin waddle.

"Had to," you quipped, shrugging your shoulders and scrunching your nose at him reflexively before placing your phone back in your pocket and holding your arms out toward him so he could brace himself. "Tuck your feet back into the drum."

You heard the slightest grumble from him before he wrapped a hand around one of your arms, did exactly as you said, and then wrapped his other arm across your shoulders while he tried to find his footing in the undoubtedly slippery interior of the water drum. "Thank you, sweetheart," he whispered under his breath, pulling you closer as you gripped the towel that was handed over to you and making quick work to spread it out and use it as a cover from prying eyes and wild cameras once his feet were firmly planted on the ground again.

The heavily curious gazes of everyone around you gave you enough pause to not wrap the towel around his waist, realization quickly dawning on you that the gesture would definitely be seen as a show of intimacy. You avoided his gaze as he took the towel from you, opting instead to lead the way to behind the backdrop, picking up his cleats and bag on the way.

You felt the irrational bristling of your skin as the sound of women giggling and commending your boyfriend on his form throughout the drills hit your ears, your hands finding it difficult to grasp the small laundry pouch you'd packed in his bag and a fresh pair of socks from the near violent shaking. When a familiar ridiculously large hand appeared in front of your face, you looked up abruptly to find Tom standing above you, the smile on his face growing brighter when you placed your hand in his and stood up.

"You're shaking," he murmured, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Come here."

He caught you off guard when he tugged you into his arms, a small yelp escaping you before you could stop yourself that had you hoping that nobody on the other side of the backdrop heard it. "What're you doing?" you questioned him in hushed tones, holding back your giggles as he pressed the fluffy sleeves of the bathrobe that he wore to your face and neck. Your hands wrapped around his wrist when he started patting at the exposed skin of your chest. "Sweetie!" You couldn't hold back your giggles when he used his free arm to wrap around you and pull you closer to him.

"You're wet," he said simply, continuing to pat at your dampened skin.

"Well I'm your girlfriend, it kinda comes with the territory," you quipped, letting out another barely muted squeal when he pulled his hand from your grasp and grabbed the back of your head to pull you in for a kiss. Almost immediately you melted in his arms, both of you smiling against each other's lips as you wrapped your arms around him. "Private--"

"This is private, goddess," he cut you off, capturing your lips in another soft kiss. "Public would be bringing you to the center of the field and marking you again with everyone as witness so that there isn't a shadow of doubt in anyone's mind that you're mine."

The sound of the camera crew calling out for him snapped you two out of your moment. "Give me a minute," he hollered out, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before loosening his hold on you and letting you step back from him. You offered him your hand to hold himself steady while he changed out the soiled socks from the challenge. "Did you take a look at the hot sauces on the table?"

"Of course I did," you quipped, scrunching your nose at him when his eyes flickered to yours. "Don't take the green one, it's a trap."

"I'll keep that in mind," he murmured, eyeing you with a smirk when he stood upright and you took his shin guards from him. "And what exactly are you doing, darling?"

You answered him with a playful grin. "Oh I'm sorry. Would you like to try putting these on through two layers of fluff?" He answered you with a minute shake of his head. "No? Well alright then." You proceeded to crouch down and place the shin guards under the knee-high socks, only stopping when you heard a shutter from above your head and looking up at him from your position with a bemused smirk. "Really, Tom?"

"It needed to be done," he said with a chuckle, waving your phone tauntingly in his hand. "After all, you do look so tempting from this angle. Let me just send this to my phone really quick."

You made a point to audibly snap the garter of his sock against his skin, making him jump the slightest bit and squint his eyes at you as you rose to stand upright again. "Give it back," you cooed, holding your hand out. Instead of doing just that, he grabbed hold of your hand and closed the distance between you, placing your arm over his shoulder as his hands roamed down your back before settling in your back pockets.

Before you could say a single word, he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss and you could feel the weight of your phone back in your pocket. As well as his hand grabbing a handful of your ass before he pulled away. "I love you," he whispered, briefly brushing the tip of his nose across yours before stepping backwards, back to the set so that the World Team could have their turn at the ice baths.

"I love you, too." The sound of the crew calling out your name this time and telling you to come help in setting up the next batch was enough to wipe the smitten grin off your face and send you running in the other direction.

A/N: Starting off my 5-day weekend strong with a new Soccer Aid piece out! I have one more that I'm gonna focus on before I give Soccer Aid Hiddles a break from the page for a while to focus on…'relinquish the crown: plans & protestations'! 😳👀 It's been too long since I've written those two blorbos and I miss them so they're next 💖

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @sarahscribbles @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @dangertoozmanykids101 @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Season 2 Chapter 2: ~

A Family Growing Smaller:

I've teased about what this season is going to be on Discord, and now, a small seed is being planted.

With nothing more than the clothes on their back and hand luggage by their feet, Raffs and Brodie waited for the taxi to arrive. Everyone stood beside them. They knew they'd see each other again soon. You can't walk away from a crew when you've gone through what they have in the last week. Sadly, this only left Rennick, Trots, Muir, Addair, Gibbo, O'Connor, Innes, Roy, and Caz left together. They could all feel their newfound family getting smaller by the day. Soon, it would be O'Connor's turn.

'Safe journey home,' Roy said, giving the pair one of his signature bear hugs.

'Aye, you too,' Brodie replied. It was true what people said about him. He was a miserable bastard. Well, in the eyes of someone like Muir, he was. Never strayed from the rules and didn't know how to laugh. No one had seen him smile, but that could be because of the large moustache that would make Hercule Poirot blush. But today, you could hear the happiness in his voice. Finally going home after nearly six months. 'You lot come to Skye when the weather clears. You've never seen water like that before.'

'Ah, fuck that,' Caz joked. 'I'm never going in the water again.' Like before, everyone exchanged numbers. 'You two stay out of trouble.'

'Says you, Caz?'

'Gie's peace, ya prick.' The pair shared a final chuckle and hug. Caz learned a lot from Brodie, despite the pair never actually working together. He was a good man who taught him much, but the main one was to never go diving. How he and Raffs could do that meant they were braver than he'll ever be. Or, maybe Caz was smarter.

'So, what's your plan?'

'Stay here till New Years, then get my arse back to Glasgow.' But, in all honesty, Caz was conflicted. The scars weren't physical, but The Shape has left permanent damage. Whenever he now felt one of the infected slip away, it made him sad. Like a piece of him was missing. He didn't understand. They were his friends, but not for that long. He didn't even meet Gibbo until the end of September, and he still wasn't seeing a friendship with Addair in the near future.

At the same time, he wanted to go home.

He had to go home, and as much as he enjoyed the peaceful farm and endless fields, the countryside wasn't for him. Plus, he couldn't run forever from what he did. The sentencing will be longer. It's best to just get it over with. Caz wouldn't buy his bail. The money was for Suze to keep the flat. Finally, redecorate the bedroom and get the windows replaced.

'You two gonna stay away from the water?'

'Nah,' Brodie answered. 'But, like Roper said to me. I think we're going to go on a long holiday.'

'I hear Benidorm is nice.'

'Be original, Caz.'

Raffs felt a tap on the shoulder and turned to see O'Connor and Addair. It was odd to see the pair stand together without trying to rip each other's throats out. Last time they did, the pair only stopped the fight because O'Connor accidentally gave the poor lad a black eye when he pulled back to swing a punch, only for his elbow to collide with Raffs' eye socket.

'When are you and Mary going home?'

'Soon, I hope. Then hopefully come here.'

'You're going to leave Ireland?'

'It's not getting any better out there, Owen.' For some reason, O'Connor never called Raffs by his nickname. Or anyone really for that matter. Only Caz, Trots, and Gibbo weren't called by their first or surname. 'I'm only still working to provide a better roof over our heads.'

'I can lend money, if that will-'

'No,' O'Connor snapped, holding up a hand and ignoring how loud he momentarily was. 'No. That's your money and yours alone. We'll be fine. You go and see your ma, and have a happy new year.'

'Okay.' Raffs didn't know what came over him. A sense of guilt for not being able to do much for the past few days? Some type of desire to help? It's just something to make him feel useful. From his perspective, he's just followed everyone and waited to be told what to do. But before he could get lost in thought, it was now Addair's turn to give the young man his send-off.

'So, is this the end of Raffs' oil rig career?'

'Absolutely,' the diver answered without a moments thought. 'I know Skye always wants fishermen. It's a way to keep to the water. What about you?' Asking as if Addair could ever go into work again. A look of realisation hit Raffs as soon as the question left his mouth. His eyes widened, and his mouth curled. Thankfully, possibly because his wife and sons were here, Addair took it in stride and just laughed.

'I might take up cricket again.'

'I always saw you as a rugby bloke,' O'Connor teased.

'I love all sports.'

'Even horse racing?'

'No, I'd rather pluck my eyes out.' Yep. Still strange to see the pair actually having a laugh together, but it was nice.

Raffs felt Addair open his hand and put something inside his palm. He looked and held up a wooden carving of himself. It was remarkably detailed. Right down to the small orange pin he kept on the lining of his beanie. The young diver blinked a few times before looking up in shock.

'Did you make this?'

'Just something for you to take home.' Even with that answer, Raffs was shocked. The pair never had a conversation before until Muir gave them a task. But, he was happy. He didn't think he'd be going home with a gift.

'Thanks, Addair. Maybe you should go into woodcarving?'

Addair smiled. 'It's a thought. I've gotta keep the old noggin' active somehow.' The pair shared a handshake. He might be infected, but Addair's hand still felt the same. Nothing had changed in them. They were rough with dried skin peeling off the palms. Man has always done physical labour, so it wasn't a surprise the more Raffs pondered. Might be the only thing The Shape didn't alter.

'Hey? Good luck with Tommy.'

Addair paused. First Trots, then Gibbo and now Raffs. It always surprised him when someone mentioned his son's name. Like an alien was talking to him. He still didn't know how Trots knew to begin with. Yet, this time, his smile didn't fade.

'Thank you, Raffs. Now go on,' he pulled down on his beanie, covering his eyes. 'Fuck off back home.'

And just like that, two more members of the crew vanished. They watched them head down the long drive until they were out of sight. Muir sat in the snow to avoid the possibility of the taxi driver seeing his towering form. Everyone lingered for a moment before going back to their day.

Addair turned and caught Jennifer's eye. She stood on the porch. He smiled, but his smile towards his goddess slowly faded. He saw the look of distress in her eyes and the tears she held back. A sinking feeling weighed the man down.

[myloverrunsthin]

𝔄𝔫 𝔞𝔠𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰

For more frequent updates... continue Quotev or A03

TA 2941, Forelithe 14th

XXI. 

The day ahead promised to be long. Thorin was the first to rise among the Dwarves. With no remorse, he kicked his kin awake, “Up, all of you,” Thorin urged, rousing his nephews first, “We must leave. Now.” 

“Oh, off it, Uncle,” Kíli grumbled, wincing at the sharp pain in his side as he swatted Thorin’s boot away. The Company stirred to life, slowly shaking off their sleep. Even Bilbo rose, eyes fluttering and stifling a small yawn.

You were lucky and woke to a more gentle stir, a soft shake of your arm. As your eyes adjusted, Kíli’s silhouette sharpened into view, “I’d suggest you wake up, milady. Thorin's doing his rounds, in his own sick way.” He muttered, smirking. 

“What?” You stretched, pushing back your hair and sitting up on your arms. 

“Brutal, but better him than Dwalin,” Fíli’s voice chimed, as he emerged from behind Kíli’s bed roll, “I still have a bone to crack from him somewhere, he did a number on my neck last week,” He tensed his arms and wound them back before an audible crack was heard, “Ah, there it is.”

You noticed the other Dwarves moving quietly, packing their belongings, sheathing their swords, and rolling up their cots. Near the doorway, Thorin and Balin were in deep conversation, Thorin’s face set in a grim scowl as he nodded along to his older kin’s words. 

Then, he locked eyes with you. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away. You hadn’t found the chance to talk to him about the other night. Had he forgotten? Or was it too awkward for him to bring up? Either way, he hadn’t spoken much to you since. But, maybe it was better that way. Maybe he had forgotten. Yet the tension remained. You certainly hadn’t.

All of these thoughts brought you back to Gwirithiel, making you regret not saying goodbye to her as well. 

“Milady, catch!” Fíli’s voice cut through, and your pack landed in your lap, jolting you from your reverie, “Gather your things. Brother, you too,” Fíli said with a wink, already rolling up his cot.

The other Dwarves’ hushed murmurs filled the silence as they followed Thorin, who stomped out the smoldering remains of the fire.

You rushed to roll up your cot, hastily grabbing the scattered items around your legs and stuffing only the essentials into your bag. With little time to spare, you buckled the straps and hoisted the pack onto your shoulder, determined to not be left behind. 

The halls were unusually quiet as you crossed the long bridge through the courtyard. Not an Elf in sight, but only the calming sound of the waterfall was present.

The marbled path soon vanished beneath your feet, replaced by the uneven rise of stone and dirt. The company’s pace slowed as the terrain became more challenging. Dori, struggling to keep up, spoke up, pausing to catch his breath, 'Which way are we going, lad?' he asked Thorin.

“We’ll take this path through the valley, before reaching the Mountain Pass,” Thorin answered, pressing forward without looking back as he stepped back onto the uneven, rocky terrain.

“And what about Gandalf?” Ori asked 

“We will see the Wizard later. If he even meets us there,” Thorin said using his stick to continue his hike, "Be on your guard. We're about to step over the edge of the wild." Those were his final words before he rounded the corner to a cave for the rest of the hike. 

You found your stride as you reached the peak of the hill, but a faint sound reached your ears carried by a cold breeze that tickled the nape of your neck and made you pause. The Dwarves passed by one by one, and you lingered, turning for one last look at Rivendell.

The feeling was eerie, and you brushed it off quickly to press forward again but jumped in surprise when you found Bilbo standing in front of you, nearly bumping into him. 

“Bilbo!” You exclaimed, “You really need to stop that.” 

The quiet burglar chuckled, scratching the back of his head, “Ah, sorry! I was calling your name, but you didn’t seem to hear me, ha.” He stood for a moment, twiddling his thumbs before catching himself and stopping, a nervous habit of his. 

There was a pause before you continued, “What’s wrong?” 

“Ah, here,” he said, pulling something from behind his back and extending his arm toward you. “You forgot this. W-wouldn’t want to leave it behind, would you?” He laughed again, a touch more awkwardly this time.

“Oh.” Your eyes widened, and you patted your waist where the weapon should have been. “Thank you, Bilbo.” You took it from him gratefully and secured it at your side.

As you secured the weapon at your waist, Kíli caught your eye from ahead, a half-smile playing at his lips before he turned back to the path with Bofur. 

“My pleasure,” Bilbo shifted nervously, rocking on his heels, “Well then– after you.” Ever the gentleman, he gestured for you to lead the way. Chuckling, you give his shoulder a firm pat as you passed, ascending the rock stairs. 

The Company huffed and grunted as they made their way over the terrain, careful to avoid the edge where the river roared below. Now free from Rivendell’s halls, the Dwarves’ chatter grew louder, free to talk about whatever they wanted with no care of any Elfs brooding over them with every conversation. 

You and Bilbo brought up the rear of the group. As you walked, the two of you chatted, with Bilbo sharing stories of his quiet life back in the Shire. He talked about his few friends and family, and how he planned to write a book about all his adventures once he got home. You laughed at his jokes, amused by his silly, carefree life.

His eyes twinkled, and a wide grin spread across his face, "I do miss Bag End," He admitted his voice warm, looking ahead with nostalgia, “Though not as much as I don’t miss my neighbor, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, that is. Last spring, she decided that her rose bushes would grow better if she 'borrowed' my garden soil." 

You chuckled, "She didn’t actually dig up your garden, did she?"

The Hobbit nodded so quickly it looked like his head might fall off, “Oh, she did! Right in the dead of night! I woke up to find half my marigolds leaning sideways, looking as confused as I was! Would you believe it?”

“She sounds jealous, Bilbo. Your garden is beautiful.”

“She most definitely is, no doubt about it. Every morning since, she walks past my garden, eyeing it like it’s her second breakfast!” Bilbo laughed, taking a puff from his lit pipe, the smoke trailing behind him with each step, “I w-want to add more. I think it needs more trees too. Oh! Maybe some Snapdragons for next winter—they’d fit perfectly after this, and they're a bold statement piece I think.” You’d never heard anyone so enthused about their garden before. You found it rather cute.

As Bilbo's words drifted around you, Kíli’s earlier glance came back to mind. There was something in his eyes that you couldn't quite place.

 “Do you really think Gandalf will come?” Bilbo asked solemnly, bringing you back from your thoughts. He clutched his pack tighter, stepping over a fallen log.

Before you could answer, Bali, chimed, “Yes, laddie, Gandalf promised to meet us at the Mountain Pass...”

The day stretched on, the sun casting harsh light over the path. The sounds of nature were replaced with an occasional grunt or sigh from the company as they navigated steep inclines and treacherous drops.

Eventually, the jagged walls of the valley fell behind you, giving way to an open field. The sight of the pasture was a relief: a lush expanse of wild grass and a thin, sparkling river that traced a path back toward the canyon below. A collective sigh of relief passed through the group.

“We camp here tonight.” Thorin declared his voice firm as he surveyed the area.

Bombur began unpacking his supplies, the clinking of pots and pans echoing through the clearing, while others gathered firewood or prepared their bedrolls.

Even with Bilbo nearby, you felt a bit lonely without your other half by your side, as if a piece of you was missing. You wondered what Joseph was doing right now. Hopefully, he missed you—that would be a comforting thought—or maybe he was listening to an Elven tale. Who could know?

You set up your bedroll next to the river, its running water a soothing white noise that dulled your brooding thoughts. As everyone settled in for the night, another bedroll was tossed down next to you.

A soft thud beside you broke your reverie. You turned, surprised, “Kíli?”

He responded with your name and a smile, his eyes sincere, “Mind if I sit?”

The young princeling bit his cheek, chewing on the corner of his lip as if holding back a grin. He didn’t look at you, instead drawing small lines in the dirt with a stick. “Sitting,” He shrugged. “Is that alright?”

Kíli glanced up at his brother, who was barely holding back a laugh. From his bedroll, Fíli’s chest shook silently, and he rolled over to face the other side, unable to look at his brother anymore.

“Can I ask you something?”

Kíli’s question was tentative, and your brows furrowed as you leaned back slightly. A silence hung in the air, and he took that to continue.

He stumbled over his words at first, starting and stopping before finally managing, “How are you?” Was that all he wanted to ask? 

At first, it was small—a tiny pit forming in your stomach, accompanied by a flutter you couldn’t quite name, but this feeling has recently been happening far too often. A few dozen or so thoughts ran through your head and yet, you couldn’t find anything to say.

“I’m okay.” 

“Good,” He said quickly, “I mean– it’s good you're alright.” 

Kíli glanced around, noting that everyone else had drifted into slumber. He looked back at you as you ran your hand through your disheveled hair, resting it on your neck while you stretched and watched the fire crackle, avoiding his gaze. 

Then, without a word, his eyes flicked briefly to your hair. For a second, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on the way your hair fell loose and tangled. His fingers twitched, as though wanting to do something, but he looked away before you could catch it. You noticed this out of the corner of your eye, but said nothing.

A pause settled between you, and then his voice broke the silence again.

“May I?” He asked quietly, his voice barely a whisper. 

You turned to find him looking at you with soft eyes. “May you what?”

He asked you to turn around, spinning his finger. You did as you told, giving him a confused glare, and shuffled around the other way. 

A sudden jolt ran through you when you felt him gently pat down your head. He was careful, his fingers barely grazing your skin as he raked through your hair, brushing it out with surprising thoroughness.

You didn’t feel brave enough to ask what he was doing, so you let him take his time combing through your locks. It felt comforting, and you weren’t going to say anything about it.

You weren’t sure how long the silence lasted between you. 

With your shoulders slumping, relaxing under his touch, you felt him gather a small section of your hair and twist it at the base of your neck, tucking it under the rest of your locks behind your ear. Kíli continued, twisting and weaving a tiny, almost unnoticeable plait. His fingers brushed softly against your skin, moving carefully, almost afraid you would flinch away. 

But from a distance, Thorin watched, his eyes dark in the flickering firelight. He exhaled, forcing himself to look away and close his eyes.