#he is concerned that I know nothing about fish. which is fair

[xxanaduwrites]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚ ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

wearin’ that loved on look

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which a drawn out engagement leaves honey takin’ matters into her own hands. benny may or may not break a rule or two, actin’ married sooner rather than later when seeing his honey wearin’ that loved on look ;)

warnings: 18 + only. alluded sexual content but nothing super crazy. quite more poetic actually. they are pretty much pining over each other. no actual smut here but i may write a part 2 if requested or interest ensues.

word count: 4.2k

main hive 🐝

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You were taking one last look in the mirror when that familiar sound of a rumbling engine echoed out on the street near your front lawn. Your stomach couldn’t help but twist up in a tight knot, your reflection staring back at you, confirming there was no turning back now. Your man was here. He was right outside, and it’d be cruel to make him wait a minute longer. Would it? Or would it be just the right thing. Sixty seconds to settle yourself. Sixty seconds to render your composure and pique his interest simultaneously.

All good things come to those who wait after all.

So you took your time – well as much time as you would allow yourself. Stepping over a lone shoe missing its match and an overall or two, you made your way over to the window to let your man know you’d be out in just a minute. On a night like this, you knew he’d keep the engine running, Itching to get to the club. Itching to get you out of your parents’ hair. Not wanting to waste a single second he could be spending with just you. So, it was only fair when you rolled up the window and hollered his name over the not-so quiet street. The sound of his engine was noisy enough to mask out the hinges of the old window panes attached to your house.

Not wanting to give too much away, you ducked ever-so swiftly as Benny’s head turned in the direction of your sweet voice. Once his eyes landed on you, all he could see was your small head, a mound of honey dewdrop curls planted up on your head like your own personal hive. And then you were holding up a finger, silently telling him to hold on for just a minute, and he of course was complying – still with a sliver of hesitance though. It was unlike you to leave him waiting. Especially on a night like this. A night that didn’t require hitting the hay early for rising school hours. No – it was a Friday night. An oddly warm and buggy Friday night, relevant over the sudden silence of his engine succumbing to the buzzing cicadas.

Mounting off his bike, he settled into a casual lean against it instead. However, his cool demeanor did not match the tumbleweed of thoughts rolling inside his head.

Were your Ma and Pa holding you back? Would they come out to talk to him? Were they finally gonna rip off the bandage and take away the blessing of marrying you he’d been working so hard to maintain?

Pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he let out a much needed breath before fishing for his pack of cigarettes in his pocket. The urge for a smoke was unbearable and warranted, so much so, that when he lit the thing up, took a look around, and really settled with his thoughts, his concerns didn’t feel as daunting as they once were. Upon inspection, your driveway was vacant, empty – confirming that one or both of your parents had to be out on the town or out of it completely. It wasn’t unusual for them to trek to another state for a festival where honey sales were of great interest, and on top of that, well – you didn’t look upset by any means. That had to be a plus there. Could it? He couldn’t recall your smile meeting your eyes through the warm honey light shining from your childhood bedroom against the deep dark night….

He was just about to take another drag when the hinges of your front door squeaked in protest, your silhouetted figure crisp against the hall lamp light. Right before you were about to close the front door completely, you peeked your head back inside, practically cursing yourself as you smacked on the front porch light.

Welp – there was truly no turning back now. Your one minute time stamp was long gone. The hair tie, that you’d already regretted taking out of your hair, was haphazardly tossed on your vanity, and the searing porch light was now burning you like a spot light. The show had begun, and boy were you giving your Benny a show.

He blinked. Once, twice, maybe three times? He wasn’t sure. Hell – how could he keep count when he was looking at you. You – his fiance, top snug in a new denim vest, decked out in patches galore, and bottom – god your bottom – in a matching mini skirt, your smooth honey tanned legs on full display. With your hair scooped down, tossed messily in a side parted wave and your form lacking its usual layers of clothes, his eyes rounded out, jaw slackened, and his pants – well they started to feel real tight around him.

Little did he know you were nervous. Real nervous to come towards him. To be out in such an outfit that was so unlike you. Sure you were known for your signature denim and fun patches, but not like this. Not out of your more appropriate school clothes that consisted of long skirts and dresses, and of course your usual overalls. And hey – there was no denying that you wore shorts every now and then on your days off. The Chicago heat was no joke on those dense warm summer days. Yet there was nothing sunny about tonight, no – not in this darkness where you felt in competition with the moon.

As you walked towards Benny, you couldn’t help but pull your skirt down ever-so slightly, the barely there length making you rather uncomfortable and out of sorts. You could only hope you weren’t mooning your house, let alone your neighbors. The last thing you needed were your parents finding out you left the house with your ass out.

Funnily enough, your worry slipped your mind the moment your eyes landed on Benny. Eyes alight, he looked like a lost puppy, begging for a treat. So much so, that the cigarette dangling between his teeth lost purchase. His jaw so slack from shock, the cylinder tipped right out of his mouth and hit the pavement. You almost laughed. You really almost did, but you bit down on your lip before it could escape you.

You were relieved to say the least, and his reaction alone reminded you why you were doing this in the first place. It wasn’t because you were fishing for his attention. You always had it. Hell – you had him wrapped around your little finger, even if you were too humble and sometimes clueless to really think so.

But here, now – there was a difference. A difference because you were not only trying to reward him for being so good to you, but also because you wanted a little something more from him. Of course you just loved being his fiance, but waiting to get married was taking such a toll on you. You wanted to be his wife sooner rather than later, and it was no help at all that your parents were being sticklers in the matter. Practically ruining your plans of getting hitched anytime soon. It was all this and that of them wanting Benny to prove himself. To show himself worthy to your parents that he would be a good fit for their daughter. You thought it was all rather counter productive. Benny had shown himself worthy to you in many ways, and there was no denying that it perturbed you that your parents didn’t trust your judgment. You were a big girl, a fully grown adult, a whole school teacher, and yet they still treated you like you were a little one.

You didn’t want to be treated like that tonight. No – you wanted to be treated like a wife. His wife.

Benny was in the midst of reaching down for his fallen cigarette, too lovestruck and drunk off your presence to realize it was long gone and better off forgotten. Funnily enough, his peripheral vision was still trained on you, making you realize sooner than later that upon straightening back out, he’d have the perfect view under your skirt. The thought made you blush all over, warming up your insides.

Before his lean fingers could snag the thing, your wedged denim sandal found purchase on the discarded cylinder, the fire burning out as your foot stomped on it. “S’dirty.” You reasoned, those pretty sky blue eyes of his boring up at you in a way that kind-of reminded you of the little school children you worked with. There was an innocence there. One that was only reserved for you, hidden beneath a tough rounded out exterior apparent to everyone else. Yet, it wasn’t all innocent. No — not in the way his features twisted up in desire.

For a second you almost thought he was gonna take you right there and then, a nosedive right up your skirt that you wouldn’t deny. But no — instead you were left wanting, aching as he straightened himself back up, warm calloused fingertips brushing against the small remnants of exposed skin between your vest and skirt, hands materializing at your hips and pulling you in.

“Honey….” He drawled, a fun little whistle rather detached from his usual deep tuned voice spurring out of him. “Wha’ I do to deserve this?” He mused, planting kisses across your neck, erupting you in giggles. “Hm?” He pressed, squeezing your sides sweetly.

In your defense, who could blame you for being tongue tied when he was all over you? Pillowy lips snagging the delicate skin of your neck, soft and sweet. “Is tha’ even a question?” You giggled again as his teeth dragged against your collarbone.

“M’serious…” he murmured into your skin, stifling the growl that was bound to escape him. “S’there a special occasion I dunno ‘bout?” He tried again, but suddenly stiffened. Lips detached from your skin, as well as his warm breath. An indication that he was holding it in. “S’not our anniversary is it? I swore it wasn’t until — fuck, m’sorry Honey did I —“ his words caught in his throat, tangled in a web of self inflicted doubt, and you hated it. Hated seeing him like this, thinking he had done something wrong. Fucked up somehow. But you were quick — so quick in assessing the situation, your hands, fingernails decked out in your usual color of choice — ballet slippers — and Benny’s ring, still snug on your honorary finger since your engagement, circled around his face.

It took him a moment, but his scruffy cheeks relaxed against your palms in an instant when your eyes met his in alarm. “No, baby. Nah. Ain’t an anniversary or nothin’. Just wanted to show y’my love. That’s all.” His pinched brows smoothed out, and you smiled as you watched the worry flee his eyes. “Betty er —“ you began rather shyly, “she uh gave me one of her old vests, y’see?” You explained, dropping your hands from his face and onto the clothing in question. “Johnny’s got her a new one, so she said I could have hers. Deck it out. Do what I wanna with it. So….” You turned on your heel, spinning in a quick circle before sing-songing a, “ta-da!” like you’d do for your students when you had some sort of surprise or good news. Usually it’d be a lollipop for each after an exam. A congratulatory treat for completing such a task!

Your nerves were still running on a high, but you flashed Benny one of your grand smiles as you striked a little pose, jazz hands included.

When it hit you what you were doing, you mentally wanted to curse yourself out for putting on such a childish act. This was all about acting like a wife, not a child! You wanted him to want you just as much as you wanted him, but what kind of motives were this?

Thankfully, your mental battle didn’t last very long. It ended quite quickly the moment his mouth opened and drawled, “Hmm….C’mere. Lemme take a closer look at ya.���

You obliged without question. Without resistance. Without any sort of hesitation. His voice always tickled you to the bone, but this — this! This was something else entirely. Something that sent honey down below in deep measure. So you stepped forward, becoming caged by his observation in an instant. His hands materialized on your hips against the rough denim of your skirt all over again. It was like he was scared you’d walk away before he’d get to really look at the art in front of him, and god were you just a whole masterpiece.

You stayed silent, giving him the space to do as such, but you couldn’t help but watch him as he drank you in from head to toe. His eyes wandered over every patch, and it made your cheeks burn when he spent extra time on the ones that really resembled you. There were the cute little bedazzled bees and a jar of honey of course, but also an apple as a little ode to your teacher status. You stitched some extra flowers you had leftover from when you were sewing patches onto your denim overall dress from school. The one you met Benny in the very first day you saw him.

“Baby….” he hummed in complete approval. “Ya real talented, y’know that? S’good. Too —“ But then his words cut out in the midst of complimenting you, and you knew he finally saw it. The patch that was just the beginning to what the back claimed, but held so much more commitment. More devotion even. In the front, on the left upper side of the vest right over your heart was a patch, shaped in such a way — a heart to be exact — with the words Benny’s Baby stitched right into it. “Wha — What’s this?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach then, worry shooting through your veins as you scrambled to complete your next sentence. “S’just a — a lil’ something. I know you were uh — real hell bent about the ring thing. Getting me a proper one or whatever so…” you trail off, nudging your purse from your shoulder so you could open up it and reveal the contents of your explanation. Benny just stared, watched you like some fascinated kid about to be gifted a candy cigarette for the first time as you took out the matching patch you made for him. One that was more daring, more forward, and far more a symbol of ownership than anything you had on yours, as far as you were concerned. “I uh — I made you one too,” you tumbled out, hands shaking as you held it out for him to see. A similar heart. Rather exact to yours. The catch? It said Honey’s Hubby in your pretty neat stitched cursive. “And look, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t wanna. I know it’s kind of silly and all, but I just thought it could be our thang, y’know? Our promise to each other but again if that’s —“

“Honey, Honey….Honey,” he rumbled out soft, smooth, and sultry, all the same, bringing your rambling to a hault. “Are ya kiddin’ me? Y’think I wouldn’t wear this?” He asked, his thumb rubbing across the indentations the stitching made over and over again. If he could mold his finger print into the embroidery, write those same words repeatedly, eternally to show his devotion, he would.

“Well I, I mean —“ you dropped your hands dramatically at your sides. “The guys….”

“What about ‘em?” Benny pressed, pocketing your creation protectively over his heart before taking a step closer to you. “I don’t care wha’ they think. Don’t care what anybody thinks besides you,” his hand circled your side once more, this time pulling you in so you were chest to chest. “Look, soon when the times right,” he let out a frustrated sigh, clearly targeted towards your parents who weren’t even in the vicinity, ”on paper, in writing, y’gonna be my wife. But right here, right now, fucking on this patch, y’already mine, kay?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, your hands taking purchase on Benny’s vest, fingers trailing down the patches, down until you reached his belt, down down down until his breath caught his throat.

“Honey…” he warned, eyes drooping with heaviness. Heaviness in your desire and his own. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you. Hell — he always fucking wanted you. Only you. But he had made a promise to himself.

To you. For you.

He promised to wait. Wait to have all of you.

He knew he wasn’t a good guy. Knew he’d never be the good guy, but he wanted to be better for you. Do better for you. So, he decided early on — the moment he knew he wanted you to be his wife, that he’d at least do one thing right.

Sure you’d fool around. There wasn’t any way either of you could resist it. Not when Benny’s muscular arms appeared full display when a shirt simply couldn’t be an option on one of those super sweltering days. It’d be a sin not to have your hands all over him, feeling the warmth of his toned sun-kissed skin under your palms. And you — oh you, in one of your pretty little dresses, a rare sight to see on a weekday. Benny’d be kicking himself for weeks on end if he didn’t seize the opportunity, didn’t get to have his skilled calloused fingers up and under your skirt.

“Wha?” You asked innocently with batting lashes.

He didn’t move away from your touch, but stilled yours, his large hand encircling both your smaller ones hugging onto his belt loop. “Y’know we can’t….” He murmured, vibrated even. His words didn’t match what he wanted. You could tell in the way his bottom lip turned crimson as he bit down through all his restraint, and his eyes burned darker in the pale moonlight. And of course you could tell by the obvious bulge that was forming rather apparently in his jeans.

“Not right nowwww…” you trailed, pulling on the reins of his belt loop so you could be closer. “Lata, after the club. My parents ain’t home for the rest of the weekend. Won’t be home until Monday. So…Y’know what that meansss?”

“So that’s why y’dolled up like this?” He huffed, a big toothed smile in pure disbelief stretching across his gorgeous features. A rare sight to see. So rare that you almost thought you imagined his eyes crinkling at the edges in pure amusement. “To get me inta y’bed?”

Embarrassment dusted your cheeks in red heat. So hot, it left you shy in the wake of your motives. “S’not just —“ you stammered, trying to find the right words to say what you truly felt.

But you were frustrated. So frustrated. And Benny well — he was sure to fix that. Sure to get that stubborn crease out between your brows that waa forming in pure stress. “If that wha’ y’wanted, baby. Y’coulda just asked.” He mused, lips pressing against the curve of your neck, right near a sensitive spot he knew worked you up. “As much as I love all this,” he whispered, the warmth of his breathe sending a shiver down your spine as his hands traveled down your silhouette, “Y’could be wearin’ a potato sack, and I’d still find ya sexy.”

You understood what he meant, and you appreciated it. You really did. But that wasn’t the point. The point was much more emotional, more intense, more meaningful, and you weren’t gonna let it slip way. “S’not just about gettin’ ya in my bed,” you started, your lips parting and almost making you lose your train of thought as his lips edged the side of your ear. Your hands moved up the plains of his chest and you pushed him back ever-so slightly.

His lips detached from your skin in an instant and those pretty blue eyes of his locked with yours in complete attentiveness. “Then wha’ is it, Honey?”

“I know y’say I’m already yours, and I believe ya I really do, but,” you sighed, “why doesn’t it feel that way?”

“Wha — wha d’ya mean?” He asked, fingers pressing into your sides in a way that made you know he was the one gettin’ frustrated now. Frustrated that he could lose you. That you could just slip between his fingertips.

Reassuring him, you slipped your hands upward, looping them behind and around his neck lovingly. “I mean…I’m tired, baby. Tired of waitin’ to be your wife. And I’m sick of my Ma and Pa thinkin’ they can control us. Control what we want. Control our lives. Why let ‘em? When have you — Mister doesn’t let anybody tell ‘em what to do— follow the rules?”

You had a point. Benny knew that. It was rather out of character for him to be a goody-to-shoes, if you will, but this — this was different. This was him showing his honor. His dedication to you. Similarly to how he would to the club. Deep down you knew that too.

“I am too,” Benny admitted, his fingers relaxing against you, his admission draining the tension from his body. “As much as I’d like ta marry ya right ‘bout now, the courthouses ain’t open, and I know it’d break Betty’s lil’ heart if we went off and got hitched with all the plannin’ she’s up to.”

“Oh no — i know. I know we can’t do that right now crazy,” you laughed lightly before getting serious, “And y’know I’d neva’ do that to her. Neva eva.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, eyes never leaving you.

“I just wanna be close to you. That’s all. Never feel — never feel close enough, y’know?” Now you were the one with an admission.

Benny’s features softened in an instant, shoulders slumping against your arms. You could feel his resolve slipping in the seconds that slipped by your words. He went silent for a minute. Just a minute. Sixty seconds that had the gears turning in his head. But sixty seconds that would change everything once they were through. He knew you were right about the rules. He wasn’t one to follow them anyways, and besides in the long run would it really hurt to break just this one a bit? A bit for you who was wanting to do just the same.

You who was begging to be his wife.

If it was so wrong then why did it feel so right?

“Y’wanna be closer to me? Wanna feel what it’s really like to be married, baby?” He said suddenly, taking you off guard.

He pulled you in closer, and your heart leaped in your chest. “Yes,” you said as confidently as you could.

“Then when the club’s through, I’ll stay the night and you’ll have me, ‘kay?” The words you were longing to hear had come into frusion.

Your disbelief and pure surprise made you eager to confirm they were real. “Oh Benny! Are y’sure?” You asked, practically jumping up and down.

“M’sure,” Benny laughed lightly, his heart warming at the sight of you in genuine happiness. “As y’said, when have I ever followed the rules?”

“Hm…Tha’ my Benny…” you murmured before his lips captured yours in a searing passionate kiss.

You were so wrapped in one another, not realizing how long you were standing there, that it took one of the neighbor’s lights turning on through their window in your peripheral vision for you to pull apart.

“We should go,” Benny said breathlessly. His lips were swollen and puffy with a thin sheen of your lip gloss now coating ‘em. You had to stifle a laugh when you reached up and wiped the excess off with your thumb.

You nodded in agreement, turning with him to mount the bike, but at the last second you stopped in your tracks. “Wait Benny! I forgot to show you the back.” You exasperated, stepping back.

“Hm?” He hummed in confusion, not leaving his spot on the bike, mounted and ready to go as he looked at you.

“The vest!” You explained, spinning on your heel and revealing the back. In the center, around the usual Outlaws Chicago emblem, instead of a skull in the center, you replaced it with a patch that said, Property of Benny.

You stood there for a minute. Sixty seconds in your pose, and just when you were about to open your mouth and ask if he liked it, did you suddenly feel those all too familiar arms circle around you and hold you up in the air. “Benny!” You squealed when your feet were no longer against the pavement dangling in the air.

“That’s it,” he groaned, before swooping up your feet bridal style and walking across the grass.

“Benny! What’re ya doing?” Your eyes widened in surprise as you watched him walk you in the opposite direction of the bike. To your front door. “Wha’ about the club?” You probbed again frantically.

“Club can wait.” He said simply. “Actin’ married can’t.”

That was all it took — well that and his lips molding against yours, silencing every thought you ever had once the door closed behind you two and you ended up doing just what you intended.

Actin’ married.

Because even if it wasn’t legal yet, you were bound together spiritually by your feelings and actions alone.

You became his, and he became yours on a randomly warm night under the pale moonlight.

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authors note: i apologize for how long this took for me to update! i’m just glad my writer’s block has ended & i’m back.

but anywayssss i may write a part 2 to this ;)

also if ya new here hi! welcome honey & if you aren’t but haven’t yet don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

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[heroesrest64]

Farming For Heroes

Find the whole project here

(Note: There are so many little things I wanted to introduce during these Tutorial chapters, but I didn’t want it to feel overwhelming or make any one interaction too long. I like how these chapter turned out- it felt like it put a lot of cogs in motion and opened up a lot of doors for the future.)

Chapter 3: Tutorials (Pt. 2)

You spent the rest of the previous night fishing before going home and putting most of the fish you caught in your shopping bin. When you woke up the next morning, you had a tidy sum of money waiting for you, which you tucked away before starting on your farm chores.

Once they’re done, you decide to start heading up to the tech lab, intending to find out more about the sprinklers and auto feeders you saw the day before, only to stop short when a new colorfully decorated building catches your eye. It’s nestled amongst a grove of apple trees, and there are wind chimes and sun catchers glittering and sounding off in front of every window.

To put it simply, the place is enchanting, and you find yourself opening the front door before you even realize what’s happening.

“Welcome~ Ooh, a new visitor!” A feminine voice cheers, and you look around until you spot a woman in a light blue dress, covered in a few simple pieces of jewelry. She has golden blonde hair that bounces as she walks up to you, and glittering blue eyes like sapphires.

“Welcome to Hateno Village Museum and Library. Who might you be?”

You give the girl your name before continuing, “I’m the new farmer.”

“Ah, I’ve heard about you. Apparently you got my brother to shut up for once. Quite the impressive feat.” The girl giggles, and you wonder who you’ve managed to shut up lately before you realize exactly who she looks like.

If you cut her hair a little shorter, put a pink streak in it, then gave her amethyst eyes, she’d be a dead ringer for Legend.

“You’re Legend’s sister?” You ask, disbelieving. Their personalities are like night and day!

“The one and only. My name is Fable, I run the library here, although…” Fable looks to the side, a slight blush overtaking her cheeks.

“Admittedly, the library is quite small, as it stands. But! That’s nothing you should be concerned with. You can still come in and read what’s available whenever you’d like. I am also willing to buy or trade for any books you bring in, so if you find something interesting bring them here and we’ll get you sorted out.” Fable claps her hands excitedly, like even the thought of a new book is enough to make her happy. You can appreciate her enthusiasm, and agree to bring any books you find.

“What’s with all the shouting? Are you talking to yourself again, Fable?” A familiar, snarky voice chuckles, and out of a side room comes a familiar head of strawberry lemonade hair. He seems to assess the room for only a second before his teasing smirk drops to something distinctly unamused.

“Oh. It’s you. If you’re here to view the museum, the exhibits are closed.” Legend huffs, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorframe like some kind of thug.

“Closed? Why?” You ask, deciding to ignore his rude way of talking in hopes of having a civil conversation. Unfortunately, your question only seems to upset the man more. There’s just no winning with this guy.

“They were stolen.”

Stolen? An entire museum’s exhibits were stolen? How? Why??

“How did that happen?” You decide to press for more information, too curious to let it go now.

“If I knew, don’t you think I would’ve done something to fix it by now?” Legend hisses, and you lift your hands placatingly.

“Fair enough. If there’s anything I can do to help, though, let me know.” You offer, mostly just to get him to calm down. You don’t expect him to actually give you a considering look, humming a long tone before seeming to light up with an idea.

“Actually, there is something you can do. Here-“ Legend comes closer, gesturing for you to hold out your hand before dropping a key in it.

“This is the key to the mines. Seeing as you’ve been to the smithy, I’m sure you could guess what’s down there. Ores, raw gemstones, and of course, treasure. I could care less about the ores, but gems and treasure are more than welcome in my museum. Of course, this isn’t a charity. I’ll pay you for anything you bring in, the better the quality, the more money you make.” Legend hums, words flat like it’s a business transaction. To a certain extent, you suppose it is, but his attitude isn’t making you rally for an adventure in the mines.

“Why can’t you just ask like a normal person? ‘Hey farmer, I’d appreciate any treasures you bring back from the mines! Thank you so much for offering to help!’ It’s that simple.” Fable flicks Legend in his forehead, and the man reels back, rubbing the sore spot dramatically.

“I’ll thank them when they show results. Anyway, there are monsters down there who can and will hurt you, so if you do go, be careful. I don’t need Hyrule coming to fret over the new farmer just ‘cause you couldn’t handle a couple keese.” Legend crosses his arms over his chest, and while you initially think he’s being a little crass, when you take a moment to consider his words, you realize there’s some genuine concern in his voice.

You may not be sure about the guy, even now, but at least he seems to care. That’s enough, for now.

~~

You’re so distracted thinking about your interaction with Fable and Legend that you don’t even realize you’ve walked down the hill until Linkle bounces up beside you, startling you out of your thoughts.

“Whatcha thinking about?” She asks, crowding close to you, and you yelp, not expecting the woman to get so close.

“Uhm! I was just thinking about the mines. Legend said there were monsters in there, and I was wondering if I could fight them.” You admit. Linkle hums, interested, before lighting up with an idea.

“How about you go to the fields with Wars and I today? We can see how good you are, maybe give you a couple tips. You’ll be confident enough to enter the mines in no time.” Linkle grabs your arm, dragging you off before you have a chance to respond.

“Looks like my sister managed to drag you into this excursion. Luckily, it’s just a patrol through Ginner woods. Apparently some bokoblins have been making their way closer to the village than usual.” Warriors barely dips his head in greeting when he spots you, like your presence was to be expected. You trot after him as he begins walking to the entrance of the town, nervously gripping your sword’s handle as the forest just beyond comes into view.

“Looks like you got a sword, at least. Do you know how to use it?”

“In theory? Sure. In practice? Ehh…” You make a so-so motion with your hand, and Linkle giggles, bumping into you playfully.

“That’s okay. We’ll start you on something easy. There are chuchus in the forest that shouldn’t be too hard to beat.” Linkle assures, guiding you deeper into the forest. It turns out fighting monsters isn’t as hard as you thought it’d be, especially with Linkle and Warriors there to help you out. They let you go at your own pace for the most part, only stepping in when it looks like you might be struggling.

You defeat three chuchus and two bokoblins before they decide to give you a break, gathering up the monster drops and handing them over to you.

“Monster parts can be used in potions or to make certain devices. I know chuchu jelly is usually needed to make sprinklers, for example. Of course you could always buy these supplies or trade for them if you don’t want to engage in combat. It’s up to you.” Warriors shrugs while you stuff the materials in your bag. It’s starting to become overfull with all of the items you’ve been getting lately, and you resolve to sort some of the objects away later.

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I want to actually join the monster hunting team. I could get my own materials, like you said, and maybe even find cool stuff while on the field.” You grin, and Warriors seems pleased.

“That’s the spirit! Speaking of cool stuff, look at THIS!!” Linkle cheers, interrupting her brother who was about to speak to you, pushing something white and covered with feathers in your face. Warriors gasps, affronted and even a little scared at the chubby cucco Linkle presses in your arms.

“A cucco?” You ask, wondering where the woman got the plump animal from.

“You can find animals all over Hyrules wilds. They’re pretty skittish, but if you give them the right snacks, they’ll warm up to you in no time.” Linkle holds out her palm, which is filled to the brim with sweet corn that the cucco happily gobbles up.

“Wars won’t let me keep any in the house, so I have to come out here to play with them. Although… If you adopt a couple of these sweetlings, I can just visit them on your farm…” Linkle wonders aloud, a somewhat evil smile taking over her face as she plots. Warriors seems to be growing nervous, throwing you an alarmed look.

“Do not let her make your farm a depth-spawn breeding ground. One or two are fine, but if Linkle had it her way, every square foot would contain a cucco.” He warns, and you giggle at the affronted ‘hey!’ His sister shrieks at him.

After that, the two of them guide you back to town, still bickering about the ethics of keeping livestock in the house up until they reach the village gates and wave you good-bye.

Something about their dynamic leaves you amused and refreshed, and you skip back into Hateno, wondering what else you should get up to today.

~~

Your day has been more or less derailed twice today, and while you don’t entirely mind talking to your neighbors and getting to know a bit more about them, you do still intend on making your way up the hill to the Hateno Tech Lab.

You barely make it three steps into town before stopping yourself once again, curiously eyeing what must be Sky’s carpentry shop. You may not have the money for it, but your farm is in desperate need of repairs, and it wouldn’t hurt to get a quote, at least.

Stepping into the shop, you catch a whiff of sawdust and something herbal. Maybe chamomile? It’s around lunch time, so you’re not surprised when Sky isn’t sat behind the counter in the shop, nor toiling away at one of the workbenches littering the space. There are a couple tables filled with smaller wooden objects, and an open catalogue on the counter showing off different furniture sets that you practically drool over. Your current bed is… abysmal, to say the least.

“Looking for a bed?” Sky’s voice hums, and you startle, slamming the catalogue shut in your panic.

“Sky! Uhm, kind of. I’m actually in need of a whole house upgrade, if I’m being honest. Not sure if you’ve been up to the farm, but there’s a whole tree growing out of my house.” You wave vaguely, miming the size of the tree, and Sky laughs.

“Funny you should mention it, but I was actually arranging to come up and check out your farm, see if I couldn’t at least make it livable sometime soon.” Sky admits, and you feel your heart flutter. He was really going to do that for you? Unprompted? The people here really are too generous- you’re starting to feel like you’re taking advantage of their kindness.

“That’s really sweet, but, uh, I don’t quite have the funds yet, and I wouldn’t feel comfortable accepting something as big as that…” You admit.

“Hey, we help eachother out here in Hateno. Speaking of…” Sky ducks behind his counter, rummaging around for a second before coming back up with a rolled up piece of leather.

“Here’s a wood carving kit for ya. I figure you’ll be getting a ton of wood from the wild trees on your farm, so it might be fun to make something with that. I’ve been trying to teach the others how to carve, too, so you might be able to catch them in the act.” Sky snickers, like it’s some fun game. Maybe it will be? You’ve carved a couple figures before, but it was always more fun when you were working alongside someone else.

“Thanks, Sky. That sounds like fun.” You grin, tucking away the carving kit for future use. Sky seems to consider you for a second before coming to some sort of conclusion.

“As for your house… I’m willing to do the repairs and some basic upgrades for free, but I have a favor to ask you in return.” You stall, not expecting the sudden offer. What sort of favor could possibly make up for all of the repairs your house will need?

“I want to leave something in your care once your house is secured. It’s something I can’t take care of myself, unfortunately, but it shouldn’t give a farmer like you too much trouble.” Sky grins, somewhat mischievous. You feel some nervous sweat bead your brow. What could he possibly want to leave in your care? Some sort of houseplant he’s struggling to keep alive? … a monster plant? Do monster plants exist?

Whatever it is, it’s not like you’re in a position to refuse. “I’ll handle it with the utmost care.” You assure, and Sky bursts out laughing, even gripping his stomach and curling over himself with his laughter. Despite feeling embarrassed, you can’t help but think his laugh is kind of cute.

“Haha! Relax, you don’t have to be so serious! I’ll swing by your place later this week to start up construction.” Sky waves you off, still chuckling under his breath, but his lack of elaboration on exactly what you’ll be taking care of disturbs you. Regardless, you leave the cabin-like workshop and begin heading back to your original destination.

…Only to be immediately stopped by an excited voice singing out a cheery greeting.

“Yoo-hoo! Young farmer!! You seem to be ever-so busy running around today, but you have yet to even step foot into my shop! And just how do you think that makes Miss Cece feel?” The voice coos, and you squint, trying to find its owner only for your eyes to land upon what one could only describe as a mushroom covered aristocrat. Oh no.

“Oh yes! I’m talking to you, dear farmer! You, with your trashy overalls and stained tunics! With your worn out boots and dirt speckled aprons!! You may be covered in soot and dirt now, but with a little dusting off from yours truly, I just know you’ll prove to be a prized Matsutake in disguise!!!” The woman with bright pink hair and cat-like glasses trills, and you feel a shiver crawl up your spine.

There’s no way the fashion fad followed you here all the way from castle town. Those horrid mushrooms were supposed to be left behind along with all the other baggage that piled up during your time spent in the big city. And did she say her name was Cece, as in, the creator of the mushroom fashion empire??

You pinch yourself, hoping against all hope that you’ve somehow entered a dream. No- not a dream. A nightmare! That’s what this has to be!

“Come along, dearie, I have mush to show you.” Cece cackles at her own mushroom pun, and you nearly weep as you realize this is no dream. This is stone cold reality, and Hylia is probably watching you and laughing.

You’re brought into the store and none-too-gently wrangled onto a stool where you’re made to stand while a ghost takes your measurements. No, not a ghost. You know this woman.

“Sophie? What happened to you? What happened to Ventest Clothing??” You whisper, sending a cautious look over your shoulder at Cece, who is currently wringing a mushroom themed fan like you fear she may wring your neck if she catches you talking to the poor shaky girl currently measuring your waist.

“I-I don’t know. One day I was selling travelers gear, the next I was being proclaimed Cece’s a-apprentice, a-and suddenly the walls were covered in m-m-mushroom wallpaper and Mr. sayge was bringing in a g-giant vat of d-dye?? Papa was out a-and I couldn’t fend them off alone…” The poor girl sounds close to tears, and you place a delicate hand on her shoulder, only to flinch when the sound of a fan snapping shut rings out. You instantly straighten up, and Sophie gets back to taking your measurements.

“Now I know it can be intimidating, all of this greatness crammed into one inky-dinky little itty-bitty shop,” Cece starts, and you watch Sophie draw in on herself with each adjective the intimidating woman uses.

“However! Rest assured that you are in the best of hands here at the Ventest Fashion Parlor. My associates and I have been reviving fashion here in Hyrule for years, and with my new business partners knowledge of dyes, I guarantee you will leave here feeling prettier than a latticed stinkhorn.” Cece begins to pace, and you send your old friend an alarmed look.

“We’ll keep your measurements noted for the time being. I’m sure you’re still settling down, getting transacted with the root system here in Hateno, but just know that once you’re ready, Tempest will be here to cater to all of your fashion needs.” Cece hums contentedly as Sophie finally pulls away, tucking away a piece of parchment with what you assume are your measurements on it, and Cece steps up, extending a white gloved hand to help you down from the stool you were standing upon.

You shakily step off, and Cece pats you on the head somewhat patronizingly before slapping something leathery and soft on your head. You just barely catch a look at the bright red mushroom cap now wobbling on your head in a nearby mirror before finding yourself shooed off to a seperate room. You don’t even have a moment to catch your breath before a man wearing nothing but an apron and shorts accosts you, dragging you further into the room.

“Little farmer! How good to see you again. I remember when you were just a little pigment. Barely a squirt.” Sayge crows, and you instantly calm down. For a second you thought you were about to be hounded by, like, Cece’s half naked brother. You actually don’t know if the woman has family, and you’d rather not find out.

“Hello, Mr. Sayge. I guess I was sent here to check out the dye shop?” You propose, and the man cheers delightedly, dragging you further into his workshop.

“I’ve been dye-ing to tell you about my new research! I’ve been working on animal-safe pigments, so now you can have animals of all colors of the rainbow- for a small fee, of course. I can also dye your hair, clothes, and armor if you’re thinking about joining the monster crew. You’ll also want to dye your furniture, of course. That Sky fellow is good at what he does, but he’s no dye master like I am-“ Sayge continues to ramble for a while, and you let him, rocking back in your heels while the man continues to go on about the services he can offer you. You get the gist- he can dye pretty much anything you could think of. Not a bad deal, but you aren’t in a place financially to care about aesthetics. For now, you’ll just take what you can get.

After a while, Sayge’s wife Senna comes stomping into the room, shouting the poor man’s ear off about bothering potential customers with his ramblings, before turning to you and apologizing profusely. When she realizes who you are, she just about squeals, wrapping you up in a bone crushing hug before apologizing once more for her husband's ramblings, then sending you on your way.

You finally leave the strange little world that is Ventest Clothing Parlor, and let out a long sigh of relief. You escaped with your life, but not with your dignity as the mushroom hat on your head sags weirdly into your eyes, blinding you for a second.

~~

Finally. Finally, you make the long trek up the hill to the Hateno Tech Lab. The building is just as odd as you remember, although now that you’re an adult, it’s not nearly as intimidating. There’s some strange clanking and buzzing sounds coming from inside that you elect to ignore, instead knocking once before entering the lab.

Immediately, you’re greeted by panicked shouting, and something buzzing and shiny coming right for your head. You barely have time to swat it out of the air before your mind catches up with your hands and you realize it was probably some sort of device and that maybe you should’ve been more delicate with it.

“Oh thank goodness you caught it! This stupid thing is just refusing to behave lately!” A woman with shiekah white hair huffs, blowing a streak of red out of her crimson eyes. She stoops down, and you try not to stare at her curves as she does so, glancing off to the side nervously. Why is everyone in this town so freaking hot?

“What, uh, what is it?” You manage to stutter out as the woman pops back up, cradling what looks like a robotic bug in her hands.

“It’s a scouting drone the monster hunters use to find new places to hunt in. It’s been a little ‘buggy’ for a while now, so I’m taking a look at it. The technology is kind of old so I’m having a hard time, though…” The woman trails off, tapping a pipe to her cherry red lips, muttering a bit more to herself before you clear your throat and she snaps back to attention.

“Sorry. You’re the new farmer, aren’t you? I’m sure you’ve heard about the devices the research lab can offer you, but they don’t come cheap! Except this first sprinkler. It’s on the house.” You’re a little startled when the lady shoves a sprinkler into your hands, and you shuffle it into the crook of your arm, knowing that your bag is officially too full to fit anything else.

“R-right, thank you, uh…” You trail off, and the woman seems to realize she never introduced herself.

“Purah. Now that we have introductions out of the way, I have a bit of a favor to ask of you.” Purah grins, and you motion for her to continue.

“My associate over there is a big scaredy cat, but he needs to do some field work. Some project or another. You should speak with him- there might be a reward in it for you.”

Looking at where the woman is pointing, you find a shiekah man muttering to himself, poring over a table filled with pictures. Curious, you excuse yourself from Purah’s company and walk up to the man.

“Ahem. Excuse me,” You start, and the man startles, hands flying up defensively and sending the pictures he was observing scattering.

“Hylia! Forgive me, I didn’t notice you approaching.” The man gasps, gripping at his chest. You mutter your own apology while leaning down to gather some of the dropped papers. Most of the pictures show stone tablets, but the angle is too high for you to see what’s written on them.

“Curious? These stone tablets are spread all across the Necluda and Faron regions. There’s one pretty close to the village, actually, which started me on this research project.” The man hands over a picture, clearer than the others, and taken as if the photographer was standing right in front of the monument rather than from above it. The stone is smooth and carved with unfamiliar runes.

“This one is apparently the first in a series, and gives directions to the others. I’ve only been able to visit one other, but my camera was broken at the time. Regardless, translating the runes I recorded from that second monument leads me to believe it was some sort of riddle that would have led to a treasure needed to unlock this mystery.”

“Interesting… Where was this first picture taken?” You ask, tapping the paper for emphasis.

“Next to Camphor Pond, past Ginner Woods.”

“I’ll have to check it out sometime, then. This mystery sounds like a lot of fun!” You smile, setting the picture down and smiling at the shiekah researcher in front of you. He seems to light up, excited that you’re even considering going.

“Truly? If you do go, I would ask you to record your findings. Here- I’ll entrust you with my spare camera. It’s an older model, but I’m sure you could inspire Purah to upgrade it if you ever have a need. With you as my field researcher, I just know we’ll uncover the secrets of these monuments in no time!” The man cheers, and the two of you talk for a bit longer before you notice the sun beginning to set. You excuse yourself, leaving the Research Lab to return to your farm for the night.

You finish up a couple more chores before putting some extra items in your shipping bin and finally heading inside your farm house. Ivee should have the seeds you ordered tomorrow, which means you’ll have plenty of stuff to work on. Maybe after you finish your farm work, you can start working on gifts to offer to all of the nice people in Hateno.

[swanmaids]

the care and feeding of an elven high king

for @tolkienekphrasisweek day 2, culinary arts. remix of @welcomingdisaster 's a note on the pecularities... ao3 link. this is a fic about trauma-induced eating disorders.

Many in Gondolin, from the servants to the lords, will say that His Grace the king was never the same since his crossing of the treacherous Ice; that he was so changed by its horrors that he became almost a completely different man. It has become something of a cliche within our city to say that Turukano of Tirion died on the Grinding Ice, and Turgon of Beleriand was born in his place. 

As for myself, I have never seen the Blessed Realm or the long march to Beleriand, and so I can offer little insight into who His Grace may have been before he reached the shores of Vinyamar where my people joined with his host. But I have no reason to doubt the words of those who did know him then. And If I were to ask one of them: how did he change? They would probably provide me with a great list of examples. The way he speaks to his friends and his subjects and his daughter, the way he carries himself, the way he sleeps, the way he eats. 

The latter is the only example that I have any kind of authority to speak on, but I would hardly be surprised as to its accuracy. From what I have heard of the bounties of Aman, it seems truly impossible to me that anybody could be presented with the spoils of the Great Hunter, the King of the Seas and the Sisters of the Earth, and still maintain the same austere diet that His Grace tasks me with preparing these days. 

Just how austere is that diet? His Grace has almost too many rules concerning what he will not consume for one to keep up with - and he is wont to change them on a moment’s basis - but over the centuries I believe he and I have come close to an understanding. 

First and foremost, His Grace will eat no meat nor fish, and requires that all of his meals be prepared separately from any meat or fish in the royal kitchens. He claims that even the smell and sight of it turns his stomach; and I am inclined to believe this, having witnessed myself an incident in which, when seated next to Her Grace the princess Aredhel while she ate a dish of venison, his skin turned clammy and his hands visibly shook. He did not even attempt to pick up his utensils, and left the table with his own plate totally untouched. 

Regarding what may have resulted in this particular peculiarity, I want to be clear that I have no wish to comment on the rumours surrounding what may or may not have occurred among the Noldor as they fought to survive the Ice. His Grace is a fair and just king, who treats his subjects of every station well, and has suffered a great many tragedies since the Noldor fled Aman. There is nothing to be gained by spreading salacious rumours that would only harm his good name. 

Let us instead return to my original topic. Meat and fish are not the only foods that His Grace refuses to eat - he would not be so unusual here in Gondolin if they were, though his aversion is stronger than most. Instead, His Grace is greatly concerned with only consuming that which he does not consider to be “unclean”, seemingly concerned that such “impure” foods will cause his person to become unclean from within. In practice, this has resulted in an aversion to milk, eggs, butter, yoghurt and cheeses, oils, sweets, pastries, many strong-tasting roots and spices, and excessive salt. His Grace despises appearing intoxicated in front of others, and will drink only a small amount of watered wine on special occasions. Coffee, however, he consumes frequently and in great amounts. 

I will admit that it has not always been easy to cook according to such rigid restrictions, but I should like to think that over time and with hard work, I have been able to reach some workable solutions. His Grace tends to favour simple meals, typically steamed grains and vegetables such as winter squash. Nuts are often eaten, and I try to include them in as many meals as possible for the extra energy they provide. Though His Grace eschews sweets, as previously mentioned, he is able to enjoy most fruits, and a dish of pears poached in almond milk is a favourite. This is quite doable, as the soils of Tumladen provide us with a rich bounty of fruits. If nothing else, the lembas baked by Her Grace the princess Idril is of course suitable, but I try to avoid this as much as possible as His Grace is wont to become agitated over the state of the city’s lembas stores. Yes - Gondolin may well be the fairest and most wondrous of all the elven realms, and the greatest work of His Grace’s hands, but the king’s table is one place where extravagance is firmly eschewed. 

I aim too to plan meals well in advance, for His Grace is known to ask me what I have planned for him to eat in the near future, and to become visibly unhappy if I cannot answer. 

As much as I can, I endeavour to serve His Grace within his private chambers,  with his daughter and his closest lords at most as guests, as he greatly dislikes eating in front of others. However, a king must, on occasion, feast with his subjects. During such feasts, His Grace has become very adept at performing the appearance of eating for his audience, while in reality consuming little to nothing. It is likely that I am one of very few citizens who has noticed this. Still, I do my best to help His Grace on such occasions. After last years’ Tarnin Austa , I sent a kitchen maid to His Grace’s chambers with a plate of figs and walnuts, so that he would not go to bed hungry. Finally, it is worth noting that His Grace’s particular anxieties regarding food and its consumption are not fixed, and are wont to wax and wane in severity. When the Eagle came to Gondolin and told us to prepare ourselves for an assault on our enemy, this goal seemed to energise His Grace and loosen the hold of some of his anxieties - I was even able to prepare small amounts of eggs and dairy to supplement his training at arms, as long as it was hidden within porridges and broths. But during times of tragedy, His Grace is known to become even more restrictive, to the point of what seems like self-punishment. For instance, in the aftermath of the horrible killing of Her Grace his sister, he undertook a weeks-long fast that left him exhausted and skeletal, spreading rumours and fear among the whole population. In the days after his return from the Fifth Battle, it was only due to his daughter pleading with him not to fast again that His Grace did not repeat this disastrous ritual.

Please do not mistake me here, however - Her Grace the princess Idril is quite often just as difficult to cook for as her father. In fact, if I were to describe her own peculiarities, we might be here all day.

[qesii]

RUST ANON I READ BOTH OF THEM AND THEY WERE BOTH AMAZING 😭😭😭 PLS I BEG FOR MLRE CRUMBS OR ANYRHING RUST RELAted oR WRITTEN BY YIU

You know it’s funny because Chevy has me daydreaming about them at the grocery store so that will have to be written, I really need them to argue about fresh vs canned fruit and Rust to teach Sugar how to make sweet tea :(

I have some incomplete stuff that I started and thought 1. Lazy writing warm up that does nothing (Maggie going to Doumain’s) 2. this would never fucking happen (circa early 2012) and 3. This is entirely too horny to put in a chapter with already exceedingly long smut (post stabbing recovery) lmao so here they are

Sugar lost a coin flip and is on her knees under the bar for the afternoon. Rust does the bookkeeping for the next inventory order and Bob drinks himself face down onto the bar, the lucky bastard.

“Don’t forget to clear the lines,” Rust reminds her, too cheerfully, and disappears into the back room before she can tell him to go fuck himself. Sugar keeps scrubbing the fridge out, not stopping when she hears the front door open. Doumain’s can run on the honor system so she doesn’t get up to see which regular straggled in for their post-fishing refreshments.

“Excuse me? I’m looking for Rustin Cohle.”

“I don’t know anyone by that name, ma’am,” Sugar responds, voice echoing in the cool cavity she has her damn head stuck in until she can get the back corner clean.

“Oh,” she sounds disappointed, rather than irritated, which piques Sugar’s interest but not enough to look up. This woman, whoever she is, sounds polished and put together and Sugar doesn’t know why she’s in a place like this. “Well, if you see him—” Sugar stops herself from snapping at her— “will you let him know Margaret Sawy— Hart, Maggie Hart wants to talk to him?”

The bar rattles when Sugar bangs the back of her head hard enough to wake Bob. She’s holding the back of her head when she stands, meeting eyes so, so blue and wide in concern.

“Who’s the bird?” Bob asks, voice rough with sleep.

“Are you—?” Maggie asks as the same time.

Sugar can’t register either question and calls out, “Rust!”

Maggie quirks a brow that makes Sugar feel reprimanded enough to mouth a quick sorry, before patting Bob’s shoulder and tilting her head to the back room for him to follow her.

“I ain’t clearing those lines, you lost fair and—” Rust falls silent mid-step, halting in the doorway that was Sugar’s escape.

“Rust,” Maggie greets softly, “It’s good to see you.”

“Bullshit,” he replies, flat without any true menace. Sugar wants to be anywhere but here.

“I talked to Marty,” Maggie starts.

“I hear you talked to the cops, too,” Rust says, heavy with accusation, but he steps forward enough that Sugar can dart out.

“Yes, them, too,” she says. Sugar can feel Maggie looking at her when she pulls on Bob’s elbow. “How are you?”

“What’d Marty tell you?”

“Who is she?” Bob asks in the backroom, just out of sight.

“Maggie,” Sugar whispers back and his brows jump.

“He wanted to know what the police asked me about. He said he was helping you with something. That’s it. How long have you been back?”

“Hear you got a big house,” Rust says, choosing again not to answer her question, voice only slightly less hostile. “Marty says the girls are doing fine. That’s good.”

“Rust,” she says, the edge of pleading make Sugar and Bob exchange a look, “Just tell me it’s something that’s not gonna get him hurt.”

“Well, I can’t tell you that. It never sat right with me, and it doesn’t now, you asking me to lie to you about him. Now, get out of here. You’re classing the place up.” A stool scrapes the ground and the door opens and closes again but Sugar and Bob don’t move until Rust says, volume conversational, “Come on out.”

“You know how to hold a grudge, brother,” Bob comments first as he retakes his seat and Rust only grunts, watching the white SUV pull away before he grabs a bottle of whiskey and three glasses.

“I think I’m concussed,” Sugar mutters, rubbing the back of her head.

The lock jingles and Sugar looks up but doesn’t move from where she’s curled up. Rust swings his keys into his palm with a low whistle.

“What are you doing?” he asks, stopping mid step when he sees her on the couch.

“Reading.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Rust says with a shake of his head, walks over without taking off his boots to hook a finger into her necklace. When he pulls slightly Sugar sits up straighter. “Get down.”

The embarrassment is a show, unfolding her legs slowly and not looking away from him to not miss any further instruction. Sugar sits on her heels, chasten on her knees and at this level she notices for the first time her bed is a few inches shorter than his. She’s about to snip about how he should just crate her when he goes to work if he doesn’t want her on the furniture, but his hand curls around her necklace before she can open her mouth. The chain and clasp are sturdy, on purpose likely, with how easy it is for him to hold her down by it. His curled knuckles press down on the back of her neck until her cheek is on the floor and holds her there until the lesson takes root.

“Daax,” he says, not stern but firm enough for her to not move. Heat flushes her cheeks even as she relaxes further onto her forearms and she stays, just like he said. Sugar might find this degrading if it weren’t for the absence of tension as her entire self decompresses.

Rust moves some things around in the kitchen cupboards, ice hits glass, a liquid splashes. He returns without saying a word and Sugar can hear him take a drink after he sits down, his leg bends over her lowered shoulders, boot near her flat hand.

“Ts’uus.”

Sugar carefully sits back on her heels as he told her to do.

“‘Aani.”

Her first instinct is to stand but she swallows, putting her palm on the floor, one and then the other to crawl between his spread knees. She sits with her hands in her lap, poised to break at the first askance of compliance. Rust touches under her chin with a slight smile, “Gheli.”

Sugar can’t help it, she really can’t, when her hips cant forward— good.

Rust is awake and smoking already when she rolls over, her back to the room, sheets tight over the curve of her hip.

“Sugar.”

Her answer is a questioning hum.

“Can you do something for me?”

“What’s that?” she asks sleepily, rubbing her eye and twisting to look at him.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

He exhales, billowing and cloud-like, as she rises slowly, positioning herself as he requested, the sheet slips off and she’s bare. Sugar pushes her messy braid over her shoulder where it coils down her spine.

“Like this?”

“Yeah,” Rust confirms, taking his time in the next drag, “stretch your arms out, lower your chest— no, all the way, Sugar.”

Her eye, peeking over her bicep, doesn’t move from him.

“The fucking sight of you,” he mutters, “Now how can I keep you just like that?”

“What’s all this for?” Sugar asks, smile hidden behind her arm as she adjusts her hips.

“My health and safety,” he replies, deadpan, hand falling onto his stomach where the skin is still pink from having staples removed. Rust stands with a grunt, dropping his filter into an ashtray, before walking to Sugar’s bed. “Now, don’t move and just let me figure a few things out.”

Standing behind her, Rust pulls on one of her ankles and then the other until her knees are on the edge of her mattress. He yanks her hips back so her ass is where it’s supposed to be and smoothes his hands up her back, feeling her spine arch and stretch. Her body still loose with sleep in the morning sunlight. Rust covers her shoulder blades with his hands, holding them down into the mattress.

“Try pushing your hips back,” he says. She presses against his pelvis, the heat of her bleeding into his skin, and he smiles at the annoyed noise she makes against her sheets when she can’t move any further, “This might work— how much rope do we have?”

“I’m not some bitch who keeps killing her studs. I can stay still,” she promises with a laugh.

“You sound sure and all, honey, but it’s been, what, four weeks, now, and you’ve been eyeing me like you’re ready to pounce,” he states, standing straighter with his hands fitting to the curve of her waist. “Can you understand my trepidation of wrasslin’ you? I’m very fragile right now, Sugar.”

“The hell you are,” she scoffs, folding her arms and resting her cheek on her forearms while he rubs the heel of his palms into her lower back. “You moved a keg yesterday.”

“It was empty,” he argues, before he pushes her hips forward a few inches to look down between them, “have you missed me?”

“We’re together everyday.”

“That’s not what I mean—” Rust guides her hand to the wet spot on his briefs— “that’s you, honey.”

Sugar tries to hide her face but he’s already clocked the redness on her cheeks, light and splotchy between her shoulder blades.

[bettathanyou]

Hello, I’m not sure if you’re taking requests or not, but if so can we please get reader meeting Cedric’s parents for the first time? If you’re not taking requests i apologize.

Thank u for the request anon, this is quite the juicy prompt. Ironically I have an angst fic that's part of my slow burn Cedric fanfic series in my drafts that's exactly this LOL.

But for everyone's sake this will be wholesome. (This time lmao)

Also, my requests are always open so if you ever need more Cedric + reader content I'm your fish! 🐟

Enjoy <3

The early morning sun creeped through the crack between the curtains, the rich golden rays covering the wall of Cedric's workshop in a honey glow.

It made your tired eyes sting even further.

You let out a low groan of frustration, covering yourself in the blankets to shield you. You turn over, back to Cedric; your partner, who was still snoring gently next to you.

Even though your eyes felt itchy and dry from the prior sleepless night, your gaze can't help but soften at how adorable he looked.

His normally neatly combed hair was sticking out in all directions, which is no surprise as you found out quickly that he's a restless sleeper.

You delicately tuck a few unruly tufts of hair back into its rightful place, your eyes scanning Cedric's resting form.

His dark green undershirt contrasts greatly with his fair skin, which peeks out from the unbuttoned collar of his shirt.

Biting back a laugh, you plant a gentle kiss on Cedric's exposed collarbone.

Cedric's eyes flutter for a second, slowly opening as he mumbles something incoherent in his sleep driven state.

"Good morning to you too...?" You croaked, your voice more hoarse than you expected. You try to ignore it, but you knew Cedric wouldn't miss any detail when it came to you.

His body snaps from sluggish to alert in seconds. His props himself up with his elbow, his eyes immediately locking with yours.

"...Are you alright, darling?" Cedric asks, his amber eyes full of concern. You can see the cogs already turning in his head, but you quickly brush it off.

"It's too early for you to worry about things right now," you start, your hand finding his. Cedric says nothing, his gaze still searching you for answers.

With a small sigh, you relent and answer honestly.

"I'm fine, I promise. I just... Didn't get much sleep. It's a big day today, after all." You flash Cedric a nervous smile, and you watch the realization dawn on him.

"You're meeting my parents today..." Cedric trails off, his hand squeezing yours in comfort.

You nod in agreement, your eyes resting on Cedric's fingers that intertwine with yours. His thumb rubs against your knuckles in an attempt to soothe you, and you let out a sigh in contentment.

"I understand why you'd be nervous-" Cedric began, and you quickly cut him off.

"Yes- they're your parents, Ceddy. And their track record is not much better than mine." You eye him with a knowing smirk, and he scoffs in laughter.

"That's true; however, I feel like I must point out that your parents are much worse than mine." Cedric replies, eyeing you back.

Now it was your turn to laugh, raising your hand in surrender.

"True... but at least you'll never have to meet them." You shrugged, turning on your back as you stare at the ceiling in contemplation.

You can still feel Cedric's eyes on you, and you glance over at him. You couldn't quite tell the expression he wore, and it bugged you. You try not to squirm under his bright amber pools, but you knew it was futile to hide your discomfort.

Cedric suddenly shifts his body, inching more towards you. You react instantly, shuffling towards him lazily as you both entangle your bodies together. You both wrap your arms around each other, and Cedric's hands rub your back in soothing motions.

"I know today is going to be alot- so I understand why you're scared." Cedric reiterated, his voice low in your ear.

"I'm terrified, honestly." You confess, rubbing your face into his shoulder.

"I promise, they'll love you (y/n). If anything, meeting you is their dream come true!" Cedric's voice betrayed a smile, and you knew that if Cedric was able to speak confidently then you could trust his words.

Even so, the pit in your stomach still refused to calm itself. You let out another dread filled sigh, and you push your face away from Cedric's skin. Lifting your eyes to cautiously meet his own, you ask him the question that's been burning on your tongue.

"It's not that I don't believe you, but... What if I don't... Meet their expectations?" You say in a small voice, immediately breaking eye contact to fiddle with Cedric's loose collar.

Cedric snickers in response, but you knew it was in jest.

"Darling, that's what I'm saying- they had no expectations for me ever finding love..." Cedric trailed off, a slightly jaded undertone in his words.

"...And honestly, neither did I." Cedric adds softly, and you feel familiar lips graze your forehead.

You immediately feel the heat rush to your cheeks at his gesture, and you give him a gentle kiss on the cheek in return.

Cedric flashes you a dopey grin, silver locks falling in his golden eyes, and you feel your heart warm at the sight.

Without realizing it, you find a grin of your own stretching across your face.

"If you're worried about them holding you to the standards they set for me, I'm happy to tell you that's not possible. I'm not exaggerating at all when I say that you are everything they could ever ask for." Cedric proclaimed boldly, his hand cupping your chin so your eyes couldn't escape his own.

As you locked eyes, you realize that there was no hesitation or doubt laced in them. With no words left to dispute him, you're left speechless and caught in his gaze. Your eyes begin to shift around to Cedric's facial features you've already memorized, unabashedly drinking him in.

While Cedric was doing the same thing, he quickly tutted in disapproval.

"Ah, ah! Behave, you scoundrel. You should be resting those lovely (e/c) eyes of yours." Cedric scolded you, half jokingly.

"With you around, I'm not so sure about that." You smile cheekily, and you see the red blossom across Cedric's cheeks. He begins to choke on his words, earning a chuckle from you at his plight.

"W-Well, that's. I'm lo-looking out for your health!" Cedric squeaks out, and you bite your tongue to keep from laughing any more.

"You should really try to catch up on some sleep, (y/n)." Cedric repeats, his voice holding more conviction this time.

You knew that Cedric was right, and with your anxiety quelled for now, your body was now protesting for sleep to come.

"Alright... But you'll need to wake me up." You relented, already settling back into the plush mattress.

"Of course." Cedric nods dutifully, pulling the blanket up to your shoulders.

You close your eyes soon after, the weight of sleep pulling you into unconsciousness.

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

Later That Day...

Standing straight as a pin, you wait with bated breath besides Cedric as he knocks on the door to his parents home.

You didn't know much about Mystic Meadows, except the last minute details Cedric filled you in on. Apparently, it was a retirement community for retired sorcerers and sorceresses alike, all of them well renowned. Cedric mentioned his parents being particularly popular, which came to no surprise to you; Goodwyn, Cedric's father, being the right hand of the late King is sure to make you popular.

If anything, it just adds to the pressure weighing on you.

Looking around, you see a couple of lone elderly sorcerer's hobbling down the cobbled path to the main building. Your mouth quirks up into a small smile, seeing the banter between the two.

You're broken out of your trance by hearing footsteps shuffle behind the door in front of you.

Your eyes dart to meet Cedric's, expecting him to be as nervous as you feel. However, his gaze holds you steady- his amber eyes warm and lingering.

With your eyes locked in his stare, your anxiety quickly deflates. The relief doesn't last, however; you suddenly feel self conscious about how nervous you were previously acting. Your cheeks begin to light up like hot coals, and without a word you break eye contact.

You feel Cedric's eyes still on you, but you keep your eyes glued to the wooden door inches in front of you. The noise from inside grew louder- Cedric's parents would open the door any minute.

Heart thumping, you feel your skin flush even more. You almost don't notice Cedric's hand slinking into your own, but the familiar feeling of worn leather gloves against your finger pads brings you relief.

You exhale sharply, just as the door opens. You're welcomed by a stout woman with dark curly hair, cat-like eyes, and a strong nose. She was wearing an expensive looking blue gown adorned with glittering jewels, accented with a long necklace of pearls. The resemblance between her and Cedric were uncanny, and it amazed you at how much of the physical features you love about Cedric came from his mother.

This was Cedric's mother, "Winnifred the Wise" as her title goes. You strain to keep eye contact with the woman as you stand awkwardly.

"Hello, Mrs. Winnifred. It's nice to finally meet you." You flash her a strained smile, bowing your head slightly in respect.

"Oh goodness, I think we're already past formalities! Winnifred will do just fine." The older woman laughs warmly, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Ah- of course. Sorry." You glance away sheepishly, tucking your hands behind you.

Winnifred chuckles, then turns towards Cedric with shining eyes.

"My darling Ceddykins, Mummy misses you so much...!" She cooed lovingly, quickly wrapping her arms around Cedric's lean frame. Cedric returns the gesture, bending down to meet his mother's embrace.

You stand to the side, a toothy grin stretching across your face at Cedric's pet name. His eyes flick to yours, and your smile only grows. Cedric raises a brow as if to challenge you to comment, and you wave him off with a chuckle.

"Yes mummy, it's good to see you too," Cedric mumbles into his mother's shoulder, gently letting go of her. His back straightens, amber eyes landing on the entrance to his parents home.

"Where's father, mum?" Cedric questions, his gaze fixed inside the house.

"Oh! He's in the back, finishing up (y/n)'s gift!" Winnifred turns towards you with bright eyes, her hands reaching to clasp yours. "Goodwyn told me to keep you two busy until he was done," Winnifred said with a wink, her lips twisting into a mysterious smirk.

"Oh, thank you so much...!" The words clumsily tumble from your lips, betraying the shock you felt at the kind gesture. You stare at Winnifred with widened eyes, unsure of what to say next.

Winnifred smiles at you kindly, then laughs.

"Don't thank us just yet, (y/n). This is only the beginning, darling." She states with a firm squeeze of your hands, her eyes boring into yours. You felt your heart warm from her hospitality, and without a word you squeezed her hands in return.

Winnifred then broke away, gesturing for the both of you to come inside her home. She chatters away to Cedric about recent events, the two of them catching up since they last spoke. You all sat down on the plush furniture of the living room, with Cedric's mother claiming a well worn chair, across from you and Cedric on the loveseat.

You were quite fine with the arrangement, as the idea of talking to Cedric's parents still intimidated you. Sitting down and observing was well within your comfort zone, and the banter between the two was entertaining on its own.

"Mummy, as much as I appreciate the thought, I am a grown man-" Cedric enunciated, exhaling sharply as his fingers pressed into his temple. You chuckled lowly, curiosity edging you to tune into their conversation again.

"No mother will ever see their child as grown, Ceddy." Winnifred gives Cedric a pointed look, leaning her weight on her hip. Cedric huffs in response, laughing dryly. Winnifred's face softens a little, and she walks up to pinch Cedric's cheek affectionately.

"You'll know what I mean once you have some children of your own." Cedric's mother says with a knowing smirk, her eyes shifting over to you. You almost flinch from the eye contact, and you scramble to form any response to her implications.

"Oh- we haven't... Planned on that, yet." You mumble, running your hand through your hair nervously. In fact, you and Cedric had both agreed that children weren't *in the plan* whatsoever. Even so, stating that towards eager in-laws on your first meeting made your head spin and your palms slick with sweat. Your eyes tear away from Winnifred's gaze, darting to Cedric's in a silent plea for help.

Cedric was already alert, his hand instinctively resting on the small of your back for support. The heat from his fingers seeped into your flesh, keeping you grounded as your heart stills. You turn your head to give him a thankful look, and Cedric glanced over you with a ghost of a smile.

Turning towards his mother, he tutted as if she were a child being scolded.

"Sorry mother, you know the rules. Every time you ask, we'll add another 5 years!" Cedric threatened his mother in a cheery voice, yet his eyes were cold and serious.

Winnifred scoffed in protest, crossing her arms over her chest. The two exchanged hard looks, a silent argument being fought with their eyes alone. You glanced over to catch Cedric's eye, but you found them to be unwavering against his mother. You felt an immense wave of gratitude wash over you at Cedric's resolve, and your hand quietly slipped into his own with a reassuring squeeze.

Just as the tension was boiling over, a loud ding! made everyone nearly jump out of their skins. Winnifred's eyes glazed over in confusion, then widened in recognition.

"The cake- I completely forgot!" She rushes over to the kitchen, her wand already up in the air. You slowly let out the breath you didn't know you were holding, feeling your body deflate a little bit.

You wearily look over to Cedric again, wearing an equally tired expression. Without thinking, you nudge him gently. His body immediately snaps over to give you his full attention, his eyes lighting up upon resting on you.

"...Thank you, luv." You murmur, eyes softening as you stare into his amber pools. You wish you could say more, but you can only hope Cedric understands the full extent of your thanks with what you left unspoken.

"Of course, darling." Cedric gives you a knowing wink, leaning over so his cheek was pressed up against yours. You nuzzled your face closer to his, your lips barely brushing against Cedric's warm skin. You felt him flush, and a smile carved its way on your face.

Before you could readjust to properly kiss him, however, Winnifred both called you over.

"Alright (y/n), I need your help darling! And you too, Ceddykins!" Winnifred exclaimed, standing expectantly beside the kitchen counter.

You both glanced at each other incredulously, but slowly got up and shuffled towards the overpowering sweet smell of the cake. The dessert had just come out of the oven, steam wafting from the golden baked good.

Your eyes expertly scanned the cake, noting that it was well made and smelled as good as it looked.

"How can we help?" You asked, doubtful that you or Cedric would be able to help when it was clear his mother knew what she was doing. Her eyes meet yours, addressing you with an excited voice.

"I need you to fetch Goodwyn, while Cedric and I put the magical finishing touches on your cake. We can't ruin the surprise, after all!" Winnifred flashes you a wink, then turns to Cedric and ushers him closer to her side.

You stare at Winnifred in bewilderment for a moment, anxiety making your skin flush. You were dreading speaking to Cedric's father most of all, and now you'll have to face him alone with no Cedric to come and save you.

You exhale a shaky breath, feeling a little light headed. You didn't even know where to go to find Goodwyn, and yet somehow you were deemed fit for the task at hand.

You stand awkwardly, watching Winnifred and Cedric roll up their sleeves in preparation. They both had their wands out now, with Cedric bearing his family wand high in the air.

"Ah- where is Goodwyn, again?" Your voice cuts through their concentration like handling a blunt knife, awkward and hesitant.

"Oh good heavens, forgive me!" Winnifred exclaims, her brows shooting up in apology.

"He's in the back dear, just a straight shot down the hall and out the back door." Winnifred gives you an encouraging smile for a moment, then dismissing you as she turns back to the task at hand.

"Right..." You mutter, trudging through the house. You slowly glance at the pictures adorning the hallway, chuckling at the awkward smiles of a young Cedric with his family.

It wasn't long until you reached the back door per Winnifred's instructions. The door had a window cut into its sturdy wooden frame, and through it you see an older man outside. He stood in a well landscaped patio, exotic plants framed all around him. Well crafted benches, tables, and chairs are neatly positioned off to the side, with Goodwyn standing in a mini workshop of sorts to the opposite end.

Seeing the man in person makes your body freeze up, with the previous worries about him rearing its ugly head again. You let out a low groan of dread, your hands covering your face as you rub your eyes. After taking in a few deep breaths, you peel your hands away and set your eyes on Cedric's father once more.

In your frozen state, you unintentionally watch Goodwyn work. It seems that Cedric inherited his feverish work style from his father, as the older man bumbles around his work space for ingredients and haphazardly sets them in any nook of free space available.

You let out a small laugh, your heart tickled by the glimpses of Cedric shining through from his parents. Before you could relish in the merry thought, Goodwyn immediately turns around to the source of your laughter, his keen eyes locking with yours.

You gasp, eyes widening with horror. You open your mouth to speak, but the words instantly die on your tongue. With no defense left, you're resigned to standing there slack jawed and looking like an idiot in front of your future father-in-law.

Great.

"My wife scared you off that quickly, eh?" Goodwyn calls to you with a wry smile, his booming laugh carrying through the breeze.

You bark a forced chuckle, but refuse to give an answer. If only he knew that he was the only one you've been trying to avoid all day. With shaky hands, you push the door open and step outside to properly greet him.

As if on cue, a strong breeze pushes against your back, as if prodding you to continue stepping forward. Wind chimes hung up on the roof tinny as you march on, their comforting sound granting you courage.

The man watches patiently as you stride towards him, his eyes watching you with a gleam of curiosity. Darting your eyes away from his gaze, you finally stop and muster up your voice to speak.

"Quite the opposite, in fact. She told me to fetch you for the cake she baked for me." You say slowly, trying your best to conceal your nervousness.

"Hmph- and I told her to keep you busy until *I* was done with your gift." Goodwyn states simply, adding a pinch of dried herbs to the concoction he was brewing. You laugh awkwardly, rubbing your neck as a long silence stretches out between you both.

You watch as he stirs the potion in front of him, scanning the materials littered around the couldron to make sense of what he was making. Even though you picked up quite a bit about magic from Cedric, you were unsure of what exactly this potion was. Many ingredients were unfamiliar or unlabeled, which left your brows furrowed in contemplation.

Goodwyn seemed to pick up on your confused gaze, his lips twitching into a ghost of a smile.

"Any ideas so far, (y/n)?" Goodwyn questions you, his hand gesturing to the bubbling brew.

Your eyes flick up to his once more, and you feel self conscious. Your mind races to form a coherent thought, but the thought of being tested against the greatest living sorcerer in Enchancia made your mind go completely blank.

"I... I'm not sure." You uttered shamefully, hugging your middle in an attempt to calm yourself.

You feel Goodwyn staring at you, and you had to fight your body from fidgeting any further under his gaze. He finally hums noncommittally in response, back to stirring the potion as he adds another ingredient into it.

"Well then, I'll allow myself to give you a hint- this potion has no counter spell, because it doesn't need one." Goodwyn smiles in satisfaction of his riddle, humming a tune while he works.

"No counter spell?" You choke out in surprise, eyeing the mysterious liquid with trepidation. A million questions blitzed through your head, the main one being why Goodwyn would give you a potion that couldn't be undone if things go awry.

What kind of gift would an in-law give that they wouldn't want to be undone? A few unsavory answers immediately popped into your brain on instinct, but you shake them away. The man was named Goodwyn, for Merlin's sake.

You felt a sense of shame at the suspicion that arose from your mind, but nonetheless tried to think logically.

Just as you saw Goodwyn's mouth open to speak, the solution popped to the front of your mind, clear as an Enchancia summer day.

"A blessing...?" Your voice wavers with uncertainty, but in your core you knew your guess was true. Goodwyn's stern face breaks out into a genuine smile, lighting up every crevice of his wrinkled cheeks.

"Very good, (y/n). I knew my boy would wed someone sharp." Goodwyn nods to himself, his smile now turning into something more smug. You thank him sheepishly, and he nods in affirmation.

Looking at the simmering potion, you ask him the question that's lingering at the forefront of your mind.

"What kind of blessing is it?" You ask in a slightly more confident voice, staring deeply into the murky liquid.

"Ah- getting a bit ahead of ourselves, are we?" Goodwyn tutted, wagging a finger at you. You scoff, confused and slightly annoyed at his vagueness, but maintain a neutral look on your face.

"What do you mean?" You reply, your eyes shifting around his cluttered workspace as a distraction.

"...Do you know why Winnifred and I chose the name we did for Cedric?" Goodwyn spoke tentatively, an uncommon hesitancy in his voice.

You pause, your brain still processing Goodwyn's unexpected question. You weren't sure where the conversation was heading, which made you hesitate answering him further.

Even so, your curiosity always gets the better of you.

You look up from the table you were studying to meet Goodwyn's eyes. They were somber, with a hint of wistfulness that made you feel strangely melancholy.

"Why did you?" You cautiously squeezed out, tucking your hands behind your back.

"The name Cedric means "loved," where we come from." The old sorcerer pauses, grabbing an empty glass beaker and breaking its seal with a satisfying pop.

You feel your heart melt just a touch from the revelation, yet you remain silent.

Taking that as permission, Goodwyn continues speaking.

"I knew from the moment Cedric was born, he would bear a heavy responsibility as my heir; holding a candle to my accomplishments is no easy feat, after all." He laughs, but you don't reciprocate his humor.

"Yes, I know; Cedric struggled to come to terms with that." You agreed cautiously, unsure if Goodwyn was getting to a point or if this was some attempt to chastise Cedric while he's not around. Your body tenses, and your eyes narrow as you await his following words.

"Indeed- he did for a long time..." Goodwyn trailed off with a sigh, eyeing you with a complicated look. You can clearly see the pain in his eyes, and suddenly Goodwyn seems more... tired, and frail, than the paintings adorned in the castle back home portrays. It was if this was a glimpse into the real man behind the legend, and you dared not blink in case you were imagining it.

You continue to lock eyes with the old sorcerer, searching for any other discernable emotions. Surprisingly, he breaks eye contact first.

"You know, people say names are the first blessing you receive in life; that they have the power to shape your destiny." Goodwyn continues, staring at his reflection that rippled in the cauldron.

"Regardless, Cedric's destiny was already written for him- being born into the Goodwyn line, and all..." Goodwyn's eyes darken, and you feel a prick at your heart.

Shaking his head, he prattles on.

"With that said- the only thing Winny and I could do was give him a constant reminder that he is loved; no matter what life had in store for him." Goodwyn finished with a bittersweet smile, his eyes lowering to grab an eyedropper on his work bench.

Sucking up the dark liquid, he carefully drips it into the beaker with practiced hands. You watch the process wordlessly, feeling like Goodwyn still had more to say.

"Now, after all these years, it seems like our humble blessing has finally come to fruition. I can rest easy knowing after we're gone, Cedric will be loved for years to come." Goodwyn's eyes flick towards you for a moment, and all you can offer is a sappy smile.

Glancing back down at the beaker, he hums in satisfaction with his handiwork.

Sealing the opening with a cork, the sorcerer offers you his gift.

"Now, I'm just returning the favor," Goodwyn whispered, his eyes crinkling as he flashed you a smile.

"...Thank you, Goodwyn." You accepted the potion gently, cradling it in your hands. Looking down at the potion in front of you, you felt a soft hum emanating from your body in reaction to it. Your skin felt like it was buzzing, and there was a growing ringing in your ears the more you looked at it.

Shaking your head to break you from your trance, your eyes met Goodwyn's again.

"You still haven't told me what this blessing is, exactly." You remind him with a gentle smile, and he shakes his head as he chuckles.

"Ah, you let an old man rant and rave for too long; my apologies." Goodwyn bows his head towards you, and you assure him it's fine.

Goodwyn raises his head again, a playful glint now in his eyes.

"A blessing can be used for whatever your heart desires. It will listen only to your intentions, so use it with a clear mind and a full heart. Everything else will fall into place, my dear." Goodwyn clapped you on the shoulder heartily, and a slow smile creeps along your cheeks in response.

It seems that you misjudged horrendously, and now you feel torn between thanking him and apologizing for your misconceptions. As you scramble to articulate your thoughts, you almost miss Goodwyn turning back and heading towards the house.

Sensing you weren't following, Goodwyn glances back to you.

"May I remind you, you have a cake waiting?" He calls out, a brow raised expectantly.

"Yes, of course!" You call back eagerly, pushing off from your idle position to rush to Goodwyn's side.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, your eyes meet again.

"Ready?" Goodwyn asks, offering you his arm.

"As I'll ever be." You reply with a cheeky smile, linking your arm with his own.

Both of you make a straight shot for the quaint cottage, your heart soaring with excitement and love for the new family you found yourself being a part of.

[ocshipscanonwaters]

OCxCanon Week Day 3

Two prompts spoke to me on the day! Day 3

Prompt – Out In Nature Nigel Leeds x Isaac Lahey (MTV's Teen Wolf) Nigel looks around, this particular place is unfamiliar to him but it looks and smells safe. The boys have their normal camping spot they regularly use which is why Nigel is a little confused as to why they're here at this new place.

“Does it meet with your approval?” Isaac semi-jokes. Honestly he was a little on the fence about doing this. As resilient and strong as Nigel is, there was a part of Isaac that was concerned that being somewhere unknown may put Nigel on edge. Before they left this morning he accepted that if it did they'd leave and go to their normal camping haunt.

“I'll want to take a quick fly through later on but nothing giving red flag vibes. Here let me help you with that.” Nigel sighs as he watches Isaac try to carry all of their camping gear in a single trip.

Isaac jokingly scoffs; “I'm a big bad wolf remember? I'm tough.”

Nigel shakes his head; “Doesn't mean you got to be silly about it. Here...”

Nigel takes some of the items so they are sharing a more equal load. “There, isn't that easier?”

Part of Isaac wants to admit the truth, it wasn't the weight of the load but the volume of items that had been making things a tad bit more difficult than he was letting on. He doesn't want to admit that though, so instead he offers a lazy shrug. “If it makes you feel better.”

“It does but you're the one who knows where we are going so shouldn't you lead the way?”

Isaac blushes, Nigel is the one who usually leads the way. Not that he forces it, or even insists on it, Nigel taking the lead is just the natural standard they have fallen into. Nodding Isaac starts down what he thinks is the right trail towards the area they will be spending the next two days and two nights.

The spot they end up at is beautiful but it is far from the hiking trails, and the trek to get to the spot isn't fantastic which apparently has helped ensure that they are the only ones around. Isaac suggests that Nigel get them some trout for dinner while he sets up camp.

By the time Nigel comes back with a few trout Isaac has camp set up and is just sitting at the fire, he greets Nigel with a smile. The Jersey Devil stops in his tracks and openly sniffs at the air though he is currently in human. “Do I smell potatoes?”

Isaac nods; “Yeah, got some baking in the coals. They should be done by the time I've prepped and cooked that fish and I have some other greens here to cook in a pan too.”

“Fancy dinner.” Nigel says as he sits down; “I can clean the fish if you want.”

Isaac shakes his head and motions for the fish to be handed over; “I got it.”

“What's up? What's the occasion?”

Isaac sighs; “I was thinking I'd tell you after dinner but may as well talk while I cook.”

Nigel begins to feel nervous. New location, fancy meal, Isaac needing to talk about something apparently important? He can't help but believe that whatever is up it isn't good.

“So...I'm sure you remember when you first took me camping I had to warm up to the idea...”

“But you did warm up to the idea right?” Nigel replies cautiously.

“Oh I most certainly have. That's what I want to talk to you about.” Isaac looks around, really taking in their surroundings. “I never thought it would be possible but I now have a love for being outdoors and nature and...that's had me make a decision.”

Nigel is so lost now, his fears can't figure out how what Isaac is saying could be bad but they are sure it is. “What's that?”

“I've decided that I want to work out here, in the great outdoors, as a forest ranger.”

The relief is almost physically draining for the Jersey Devil; “That's great I-”

Isaac holds up the hand he's wielding the fillet knife with to get Nigel to pause. “But in order to do that I have to do a lot of schooling first, not doctor a lot, but still a fair bit. So I applied to a school that has what I need and I got accepted.”

Nigel jumps up and down on the spot, he's so happy for Isaac. “That's great!”

“There is a catch though.”

Nigel's joy catches in his throat and the fears return. What catch could there be? Does Isaac have to break up with Nigel for some reason in order do this.

“In order to do this. I...and I hope I mean we, have to move to Fresno.”

“Okay and?” Nigel doesn't understand the problem. His worries return and start to grow.

Isaac can see how worried Nigel is becoming, and he feels so bad because he doesn't think there was a way he could talk to Nigel about this without giving the poor Jersey Devil some temporary anxiety in the beginning. It's just how Nigel's past has him act from time to time.

“Fresno's population is about half a mill, a wee bit bigger than Beacon Hills' thirty K and we probably won't be able to head out of town and get away from it all till my program is done...in four years. I know you've had trouble being around the number of people you are in Beacon Hills at times so...if you think it will be a problem it's okay you can tell me. I don't have to do this; I can figure something else out. The last think I want to do is stress you out.” Isaac can feel his dialogue getting away from him, he's starting to ramble and can't stop himself.

“Let's do it.” Is all Nigel replies.

“Really? Just like that?” Isaac asks. He thought that Nigel would have some fear or hesitation.

“Just like that. It's only four years and given that as long as nothing bad happens we each have at least a hundred more years to go it won't be that long at all.”

“So you're gonna be okay probably living in a tiny apartment surrounded by tons of people on all sides?”

Nigel shrugs; “Maybe not at first but I'll adapt. I'll be busy working anyhow so that'll help.”

“Working?” Isaac doesn't understand.

“Well someone is going to have to pay the bills and you'll be focused on your studies.”

“I didn't want to assume.” Isaac actually hadn't thought about how they would pay for everything. He just thought he'd be doing a mix of student loans and living off his father's estate.

“We're mates. I know we haven't had the wedding yet but in the eyes of Jersey Devils you and I are already bonded. Me putting in the work so you can focus on your studies is expected. Just as when the times comes and I try to rebuild my clan it's expected you'll have to shoulder more initially while I focus on that. It's just what mates do for each other.”

Isaac smiles, his chest feels heavy. Having lived with his abusive father for so long, even now the instantaneous support Nigel gives him time and again feels almost overwhelming. There is a part of him, the part created by years living under his father's abuse that wants to have him question how lucky he is, how long it will be till he screws this up, or the other shoe drops and Nigel reveals who he really is. He pushes all those thoughts aside, focusing on the moment.

Isaac needs to distract himself. Turning his attention back to the fish he continues prepping them.“So after dinner I guess we can celebrate the good news?”

Nigel smiles mischievously; “Yeah, once the sun sets we can celebrate. We'll give the stars quite the show.”

Isaac can't tell if Nigel is teasing or telling the truth, either way all the doubts and fears are gone as his mind is now focused on...other things.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Fashion – Casual Nigel Leeds x Isaac Lahey (MTV's Teen Wolf) Liam sighs; “Is it just me?”

“No it's not just you.” Stiles reassures the new werewolf.

“Oh not this again. It makes him happy.” Isaac says with a sigh.

“What are we talking about?” Scott asks as he approaches the trio. “Wait it's not the t-shirt again is it?”

Stiles raises a finger at Scott. “Yes! It's weird.”

“It's not weird! It's just a t-shirt! It's cute and he's cute when he wears it.” Isaac snaps.

“Buying your non-werewolf boyfriend a t-shirt with a huge wolf jumping out at the viewer is not cute!” Stiles states.

Scott shrugs with a smile; “It's kinda cute.”

Stiles sighs.

“And it makes him happy. Given everything he's been through since escaping to Beacon Hills...” Isaac doesn't bother finishing the sentence. They all know at least a bit of what the poor creature has suffered.

“It does make him smile and he is cute when he smiles.” Liam agrees. This apparently does not sit well with Isaac who folds his arms and glares at the newest wolf. Liam looks at Isaac with confusion; “What? I'm just agreeing with what you said!”

Scott inwardly sighs recognizing the unnecessary, reflexive jealously that can come with being a werewolf; a jealousy that he himself has suffered from numerous times without realizing it at the time. “Isaac, you're acting like I did when I thought you were into Allison.”

Isaac immediately uncrosses his arms and holds his hands out in front of him as part of a dramatic apology; “Sorry! Didn't realize I was being that bad.”

“I wasn't that bad.” Scott protests.

“Yeah you were.” Stiles nods as he speaks. Feeling a bit embarrassed Scott tries to change the subject. “I thought we were talking about the t-shirt.”

Sensing the chance to have a little fun with things Stiles gives Scott a consoling pat on the shoulder. “Why? It's just clothing buddy.”

Scott is so lost.

[dukeofankh]

Dude, no one is implying we shouldn't talk about this case. They are pointing out that people already believe he's guilty based on what the police say, which isn't great.

You're twisting this in such a bizarre way it's off-putting.

Nah. I'm reacting in a really normal way in terms of how people--even people on the left--have discussed pretty much every single accused criminal on the Internet for years. I am, however, seeing a hell of a lot of people--including you, here--saying that we can't build opinions off of information that we know about because it has been shared by police. A lot of other people have also been coming up with various reasons and ways that this could be a frame job, ect. Like...that's weird. That is new. That is uncommon. That is not part of the usual arc of how these issues are discussed. I'm definitely more worked up about it than some people might be because I am pretty well read on subjects like conspiratorial thinking, and I've got a fair bit of religious trauma that gets me on edge in a serious way with stuff like this, but like, in terms of straight-up "ability to determine fantasy from reality", I am the one working off of the fewest possible assumptions here.

Like, people were getting weird and conspiratorial on here post-election, pulling honest-to-god "Stop The Steal" stuff, and honestly this feels like an extension of that, and it makes me radically uncomfortable. For every person saying "don't make up your whole mind yet" I have seen ten people saying "the NYPD forged a manifesto and planted it on him." I'm not a fan of that trend. If I see some evidence come up in the trial that that actually happened, then sure! I will be willing to accept it, but that being a common position that I am seeing, absent any evidence, absent any actual reason? Like, "the NYPD found a patsy and is going to have a sham trial and they don't think they'll get caught despite the fact that this is going to be the most talked about trial of the decade despite the fact that a former and future president was convicted of a felony a few months ago" is fucking bananas to believe apropos of fuck all and seeing it happening so consistently is honestly concerning, and it should be concerning to you too, because, as someone who's watched a fair bit of stuff on how to combat conspiracy theories--because this used to just be a MAGA/QANON thing and we used to want to shut this sort of thing down--this is classic conspiracy theory mindset shit.

Like, here's the thing about not trusting anything the police say: all the details of the case have been shared by the police. If we can't trust any of the things that have been shared by the police, we can't discuss any of the details of the case. Even the fact that this was an attack on a CEO because he is a CEO--as stated by the bullet casings and the manifesto, ect, is based entirely on information shared by the police. If we point blank refuse to accept police narratives, then there isn't even a story here. There's nothing available to discuss. So yes. Saying that people shouldn't assume he's guilty based on info provided by police is saying we can't discuss the case, or at the very least, it's saying we can only talk about the case if we're willing to consider wild conspiratorial speculation as on par with reported evidence that will be used in a legal trial.

I clearly don't see this issue the same way you do. I'm not sure if it's because we've just been seeing different dashes, but I am legitimately freaked out by what I see as a recent rapid slide into MAGA-style conspiratorial thinking by people on the left after the trauma of the election. That's not twisting things, it's drawing parallels in social trends. It's having bigger fish to fry than just people squabbling about a trial in a country I don't even live in. Maybe I've just been seeing way worse stuff than you have, a rebuttal always comes off as weird and strident when it's responding to something you haven't seen, but honestly, I am gonna be weird and off-putting and intense about this, because I really don't fucking like having a sociopolitical alliance with a bunch of conspiracy-rotted people spiralling. And because if you wait too long to say something, people stop being reachable.

[dragonmasterhiccup]

Hiccup's response befogged her, keeping her eyes focused on his expression for a moment before she stepped to the side, avoiding another attack. Freya chose not to say anything back, too focused on making sure she blocked his sword, but that didn't seem to help the questions that began to arise in her mind. What had Hiccup gone through in his time on the Dragon's Edge? His answer was much more somber than she'd anticipated for it to be, and it opened the door for her to now truly wonder what he experienced there.

She hadn't seen him spar before, having always noticed him either in the forge, running away with Toothless, or off somewhere with Stoick - which was why that added onto her shock that he still won their match. Questions filled her thoughts, all of which were circled around Hiccup, but she kept her mouth shut concerning them. She knew he said that he could tell her of more things that happened on the Edge, but she silently felt as though she were crossing an unspoken of boundary of some sorts... Or perhaps that was just how she viewed it.

Freya's gaze flickered over his auburn hair, the sunlight adorning it in a way that embellished the color of it. Forcing herself not to get distracted by it again, she gave one last attempt to make him take the cloth back: "Yeah..but... I still took it, so that wouldn't be..fair for you.." She mumbled, slightly embarrassed that she started sounding like a child. Not wanting to continue her puerile acts anymore, she sighed, having a hard time grasping that something kind was done to her despite doing a somewhat rude action before, "..Okay, fine. Thank you."

Lightly shaking her head at his answer while looking down at the ground, she tried pushing away the weird, fluttery, feeling that slowly came back. One, because of the close proximity neither of them seemed to step away from, and two, because of the selfless and good-hearted nature he carried. "You... You treat Berk almost as if they did nothing harsh to you... Including me.." She muttered out a further response, moreso to herself: "That is what annoys me the most about you.."

Freya, however, didn't know how to interpret what she was actually feeling, assuming the emotion that sprang up in her was annoyance for what he had said. It was the complete opposite. She didn't know how to accept that it was sympathy and compassion she started to hold for Hiccup, finding it strange for her, who used to despise him with all of her being, to suddenly be more lenity towards him.

Returning her gaze back on him, she absentmindedly spoke out her next response: "Yeah, well..you're definitely not cold and unfriendly.. unlike how I was, and all of Berk, really." She wouldn't have said it as though it were a past tense thing, knowing some people still viewed her as a distant and austere person, but it came out a little different from what she intended.

'More than okay?' Freya blinked up at him, slightly flustered at his words. She also couldn't ignore the small pang of guilt that pierced through her once more, acknowledging that their 'relationship' wasn't even real. She quietly listened as he finished explaining Stoick's approval, keeping the same stunned expression on her face. 'Wholeheartedly?' She hoped the faint warmth on her cheeks was because of her body cooling down from their sparring session, but she had a feeling that wasn't why. "Looks like he and my mom are on the same page, then... My dad still seems a little...stiff about it."

Blaze watched with a dim pout as Toothless readied himself to catch the fish, his face lighting up once the Night Fury came back up with the prey. He trilled out in delight and took half of the fish, leaving the rest for Toothless as he quickly devoured the food, grumbling in satisfaction once he was finished.

Softly nodding at Hiccup's idea, she glanced at the dragons, trying not to overthink how close they stood, "Yeah.. we could head over there right now to see if Ayla's up for it...which I'm sure she will be. Especially if it involves you." Lightly rolling her eyes, she continued, "You fooled her in with your Mr. Nice Guy act."

Suppressing a smile, Freya became mesmerized by the pond, which still glistened over in a delicate golden glare. Toothless and Blaze's scales also appeared to slightly gleam, which caused her to be even more thankful for the unique beauty dragons had.

Hiccup tilted his head, peering at Freya. "As opposed to what? Would you prefer I try to get some sort of...revenge?" Shaking his head, his gaze lowered to the ground. "No. That just makes things worse, starts an endless cycle that I want no part in."

That was a lesson he learned the hard way, going after Viggo.

Shifting uncomfortably, he shrugged. "You all had your reasons."

This wasn't where he expected the conversation to go, and he didn't want to stay there.

Clearing his throat, he said, "Believe it or not, I'd prefer to leave all that, in the past. It's done with, no point in rehashing it..."

Looking back up at Freya, he offered a weak smile. "I mean... just look at us now. Things...they've changed for the better, haven't they?"

Taking in her stunned expression, he edged closer. "I told you, you have nothing to worry about with my dad. He...he seems to really like you. And..." He lowered his gaze. "if...if it helps, I don't think he knows how, uh, how things used to be, before the cave...he just, he knew we didn't hang out much, I think that's all."

What was he saying? Stoick was Chief. He knew everything. But his dad never outwardly acknowledged it, so... maybe he didn't know?

"Well, that's to be expected, isn't it? You are his daughter, after all. Maybe his opinion of me will be solidified depending on how well I do in training tomorrow..."

Toothless happily gobbled up the other half of the fish, looking happily at Blaze. He then gestured to the same log they played with the other day, bounding over to it and grabbing one end.

Hiccup grinned, raising his brows. "Fooled her, did I? I'm not so sure... weren't you just saying a few minutes ago how nice I was?" Keeping his eyes on her, he started making his way towards their dragons. "I think you're starting to see that it's not an act, after all."

Turning to Toothless, he called out. "Come here, bud! We're going to see Ayla."

Toothless immediately dropped the log, giving a gummy, excited grin as he ran to Hiccup.

In one swift motion, Hiccup mounted Toothless as the dragon ran past him, now seated on the dragon's back.

Stopping by Freya, he gripped the handles on the dragons saddle. "Ready to go?"

[plotdesigner]

@themalhambird @malkaleh MORE GOLD CAGES A COMIN!!!

cw: discussion of celebrimbor's disordered eating and adar being ordered to fix it, sauron's general golden cages control issues, substance abuse, discussion of self harm and suicidal ideation

If things were less tense, you'd be teasing the elves about how you never got a ring off Mairon. Rings meant loyalty, connection, focus, meant his undying attention, and when you phrased it that way, it was wretched how they were being used -

But rings were Mairon's newest obsession. You just got his sigil scarified onto every surface of your body he could fit it on. On your temples, on your chest over your heart, on your back where you couldn't reach it, and a dozen other places. Some of them had been worn away by time, and some you had dealt with yourself with hot metal and the knowledge your children would take care of you afterwards, and some still rested untouched on your skin.

And scarification and brands and tattoos were not a particular pain for your children. They had stolen Mairon's marks and made them their own. In the thousand years since Mairon's death, you had your belly tattooed with mourning marks for the children you had lost. Your bared skin was a memorial.

The grief was new and raw for Tyelpe, both for his city and for his craft. It has been a day and a half since Mairon visited Tyelpe with a ring, and Tyelpe hasn't kept down any of his food since then. He stares at the band of metal in the braid over his shoulder like it's very touch will kill him.

For all you know, it might.

"Nothing stays down," he tells you, wan and miserable. "He said I should not be so frail."

"It is not an uncommon malady. In Angband, lacking control, my children developed diseases to obtain control. One was to only eat certain foods, or to gorge and then retch it up later," you say. "It is more deadly than you would think; for your own sake, and to prevent His wrath, I must ask that you eat - but I will not force you. Let me give you options."

"I'm listening," Tyelpe says. He curls miserably on the bed, his head in your lap. You pat his head.

If he was not an elf, you'd suggest lard, but most elves don't consume pork So you suggest: "Yogurt. I'd prefer it from a goat, but the local Men have cows, so that would have to do. I'd flavor it with honey and fruits and have nuts ground in. It would be very sweet and soft, which hopefully would make it go down easier."

"I should hope so," Tyelpe murmers.

"Otherwise - there's the old standby that Mairon used for us all in the early days. There is a point where if you take bread and halfway ferment it into beer, it becomes a soup that is both beer and bread, which retains both mood-altering and body-heartening traits." You gesture as if you can recreate the ancient, nostalgic food in your hands. "It's very dense, very nutritious, as if beer was a soup."

Tyelpe makes a face at you.

"It's like if bread was a soup?" you try.

"I've noticed that the wine that Sauron does not finish keeps disappearing," and you wince at hearing His name. "I know that the others aren't drinking it."

"Is this truly an issue?"

"Elrond is concerned with your health."

You wince again.

Tyelpe says, "That's what I thought."

"He made me to resist poison," you point out. "This body can endure all kinds of toxins far better than you can endure starvation."

"I'm not starving," Tyelpe says.

"Not on purpose," you say.

The two of you stare at each other. He's as pale as parchment and it concerns you. He presses his head to your belly as if that could tell him what your traitorous liver was up to.

"I'll cut down on the wine if you try and eat what I bring you," you say. "Yogurt I can manage. I'll have to see if they can make you a beer soup."

"I'd prefer the yogurt," Tyelpe rasps.

"I know," you say.

(This is not a fair trade. He should be in his kingdom feasting on roast duck and freshly caught fish. You should have your healers coaxing you with herbal tinctures that let you sleep far better than liquor ever did. But you need him to live, and he needs his friends to live, and they need you to live, and this circle cannot break without someone dying. You fear what would happen if that someone is you.)

You should be more focused on that one ring, on the many rings. There's too many rings. You have four children to care for and too many problems to face.

Drink my blood. Eat my flesh. Consume me, you do not say. You know you have only so long until you break apart. You hope that the elves will run before that happens.

You hold him in your lap and spoon yogurt into his mouth. Tyelpe, you sing. Tyelpe, you are safe. Tyelpe, you can eat. You'll swallow every poison you can for him. I love you. Run from me.

i love you. I want you to live. Please live.

I love you.

Please.

Live.

@malkaleh Sauron presenting his five prisoners with wedding rings, I believe you mentioned??

cw: Sauron's unrepentant mentioning of destroying Celebrimbor's city, stated intention to control another person's weight/eating habits and appearance and to rope others into doing the same, and just...the general, Sauron has absolutely no concept of what he's done to Celebrimbor.

He saves Tylepe's for last.

All his five are perfect, of course, but Tylepe's he is both especially pleased with, and oddly shy about presenting in a way he hasn't been about his work since- well. Since before Melkor. But then, Mairon thinks with fond pleasure, his clever Celebrimbor is a master of Ring-craft. The three, the seven- the stolen nine, Mairon has never seen complete-- he could not make them. Only his precious, his brightest jewel of the House of Fëonor had been able- his Holly-King of Eregion, his Lord of Rings.

It is pure mithril, fashioned like trailing vines chasing each other around the trunk of a tree- Celebrimbor had delighted in showing Annatar every possible ivy-choked trunk in Ost-in-Edhil, rambling of its beauty. Each tiny, perfectly detailed leaf cradles almost imperceptible flecks of gems in varying degrees of kingfisher blue- the vines, then, also shimmer and run like the river  Mairon's beloved had so grieved about  Adar damming. And the centre peice: a stone deep and red and vibrant , a seven pointed star hiding in the endless facets. Cradled on either side by gems of deep green, in such a way that it might represent at once both a sprig of holly, and the Eye of Mairon's own banners.

He goes to Celebrimbor last, then, because the others will see the beauty of his works, and the the love that beauty holds for them, but Celebrimbor-.Celebrimbor will understand the sheer intense effort of making a gift like this.

***

He is not disappointed.

Celebrimbor takes it cautiously (the others, Mairon slipped straight onto the fingers they were designed for, but Celebrimbor's he places in the palm of his hand, so the Master-Smith can better study every angle). Once he has it, however, he seems to relax somewhat, and he does examine every angle of it. He examines, and he asks questions of technique and intent, and Mairon thinks of him questioning young apprentices on their works in much the same way, and it is such a gloriously delightful game, not the least because his jewel has no corrections, no suggestions of improvement for him, no, only nods of acceptance for Mairon's responses, and an increasing level of respect for the work shining ever-brighter in his eyes. But at least Mairon can wait no longer; he must see it on Tylepe's finger- and it is even more delightful to see the greatest elven smith vanish behind the blushes and anxiety of a maiden as he looks up at Mairon's declaration that he must put it on with wide eyes and says

"My lord, I-- you do me honour, but I cannot-" as though he had not yet realised that it was made for him, the precious jewel-

"Of course you can, beloved, who else should wear it-"

And Mairon plucks it from him, takes Celebrimbor's hand in his and turns it over.

"My lord, forgive me- forgive me, but it will not fit!" Such an anguished cry, but Tylepe doesn't know what he's talking about; of course the ring will fit- Mairon slips it onto Tylepe's finger and there-

It is loose.

Mairon stares down at Celebrimbor's hand. The ring is loose, but that is not- Mairon cannot have been mistaken; he knows rhe ring size for each of Celebrimbor's fingers intimately; the Master-Smith's hand measurements had been used to demonstrate a whole series of techniques when he and Annatar had given a series of lectures and demonstrations to the elves who were so new at smith craft they barely qualified as apprentices, back in Ost-in-Edhil, before even the seven had been made--

And Celebrimbor has grown gaunt, since then. Has stopped the near ceaseless movement of his clever hands, since then. Ost-in-Edhil has leached so much of his poor Tylepe away that his fingers, now, are worn thin and frail.

His Jewel is trembling, head bowed, and Mairon's rage mounts.

"Forgive me-"

"Shhh!" Mairon commands, pulling back the ring, clenching it in his fist, grasping the back of Tylepe's neck with the other hand and squeezing. His treasure falls silent, eyes downcast. "You are not eating enough," Mairon chides.  "I will speak with Adar - you should not still be so frail, safely away from those wretches who burdened you so- I am glad I burned them!" he adds, spitefully enjoying the memory of Ost-in-Edhil's walls collapsing to rubble. "But hush, Tylepe, do not fret my love- you will still have your pretty ring." He turns Tylepe around, so his dear one's back is to him. It begins to weave the band into  the elf's silken curls. "You will struggle to do this yourself, beloved, but fret not," Mairon assures him. "Later I will show Celeborn how it is done, and he shall do it for you."

When the ring is caught, like a dewrop in a web, he caresses Tylepe's hair to one side and kisses the jumping pulse in his jewel's neck. "It is not your fault, beloved- it is theirs, " he vows. "But you are safe now- your Mairon is here, and he will make everything better."

[pandoa]

a cat and his henchman: a grim tale

in which grim awakes to find himself surrounded by blue flames and the burned ruins of night raven college. not to worry, though! his henchman is there to save them from this predicament! but, where was his henchman to begin with?

~grim x platonic!gender neutral reader~ ~word count: 1418~

warnings: angst, mentions of blood and death note: this is based off the twst theory that grim will eventually overblot and mc will be forced to fight the cat-like beast. thank you~

“(Y/n)!” Ace’s voice rang in the flaming room, catching a certain prefect’s attention.

“What in Twisted Wonderland are you doing?!”

The prefect turned to face their two friends, Ace and Deuce, with a petrified but unwavering look present in their eyes. Grim was out of control and if Crowley refused to help them for the thousandth time, someone had to stop him. 

Even a mere human with no magical abilities such as themselves would have to do.

“I’m saving Grim!” (Y/n) replied back.

The Adeuce duo glanced at one another, concern for their friend clearly shown in their facial expressions.

“Saving him?! (Y/n) you’re insane if you think you can stop this!” 

Deuce added on to Ace’s chiding, his tone a bit softer as he gazed at the prefect, “(Y/n), there’s a big chance you won’t survive. . .”

The prefect sighed, sorrow woven in the next words they said.

“Then I suppose I’m taking that risk. For Grim.” Screeching roars that could destroy one’s hearing enveloped the mirror chambers as the magicless freshman faced their beloved cat companion and friend.

Whatever happened next was fair game, and the prefect was determined to bring Grim back. Even if the price was their own mortal life.

.

.

.

.

.

Huh?

Wha..what’s going on?

Rising up from a strange pile of gravel, Grim lifted his throbbing head to see scorching flames of blue scattered across what he assumed to be NRC’s mirror chambers. Blazing fire threatened his fur-covered body as he peered at the unusual, deathly flames.

These look familiar. . .

Meh, probably nothing, the fish-loving cat voiced in his mind as he began to carefully roam around the premises, investigating each charred remains of the disintegrating building. What exactly happened here to make the school look like a tuna slice burnt on a stick, he did not know. And frankly, he did not think he wished to know with the college’s track record of overblot incidents and deranged teenagers, honestly. Crowley should really do a better job on keeping track of these students’ mental health. One day some crazy strong kid could end up destroying the whole school if they’re not careful! Grim shook his head in shame at the saddening thought. 

Nah, no way that would happen. (Y/n) could definitely beat that brat to shame with their little therapy sessions, haha! Brushing off his daunting imagination, Grim lazily rounded a corner in search of an exit only to yet again encounter-

More sapphire tinted flames. Okay, now this was just getting annoying. The small beast sighed in frustration as he mindlessly turned around, grumbling about his rumbling stomach as if anyone was there to listen to his incessant whines. Walking past the fallen pieces of gravel, numerous glass shards, and other items he couldn’t even make out if he tried, Grim made sure to keep his soft tail from being consumed by the dancing fires spread out on the jagged floors. 

To say he was lost was an understatement.

Nothing in this stupid college looked the same. Chandeliers were shattered, roofs were missing, walls were crumbling, eerie smoke filled the air he breathed, and traces of black ink seeped into the carpet. Really, all Grim wished to see was a plump bed waiting for his arrival since he felt unusually exhausted, as if he had just fought in a never-ending war with the most powerful of mages. Maybe I just need an extra lengthy cat nap, Grim pondered whilst releasing a loud yawn into the echoing chamber. I’ll just find the exit and then-

Eh?

A small glimpse of your (h/c) locks sprawled along the ground was enough for the feline to immediately dash towards your side, relief evident on his furry face. Thank the Seven he found you! He would have been stranded had he not spotted you (not that he would admit that to his minion of course) so seeing you sparked a joy that could rival free premium tuna served to him straight from the can! Ah, Grim drooled at his predictable cravings. Simply delectable. 

Snapping out of his trance, Grim soon reached your familiar frame, hollering out to catch your attention. 

“Hey! Henchman!,” he shouted, “Quit screwing around so we can go back to Ramshackle! I’m starving here!”

Grim halted mid-step, confusion racing in and out his mind upon noticing the sight before him.

Huh?

“Henchman, why are you on the ground? Has Leona’s sorry habit of napping in random places gotten to you?”

Cautiously, the small beast took slow, careful steps closer to your resting body. What was all that gunk on you? Sweat, black ink he knew certainly hadn't come from you, and. . . red liquid? Feeling his heart rate suddenly drop, Grim peered down to your disheveled NRC uniform. It had been entirely covered with the scarlet substance. 

What-

What are those marks on your skin?

Was this another failure of one of Ace and Deuce’s alchemy experiments?

Grim, impatiently, began poking at your side.

“Why won’t you answer me, Henchman?”

Growing irritated at your current predicament, the cat wasted no time in proceeding to vigorously shake you, in hopes that you would finally gain consciousness. What’s gotten into you?! The henchman he knew wouldn’t laze around like this! This has gotta be one of Ace’s pranks, right?! Right?! New, raging fear surged throughout the feline’s petite stature.

“Open your eyes!”

“The Great Grim is in your presence for Seven’s sake!” Grim exclaimed, tossing his hands in the air to emphasize his statement.

“C’mon! You can tell me why the whole building is burned down while we walk back home to Ramshackle! I’m sure it’s an amusing tale, hehe.”

Grim chuckled at his antics. Surely there was some sort of explanation regarding the ruined state of Night Raven College, right? All that was left to do was to wake you up from your rather deep slumber and both you and him could be on your merry way out of the burning building. Grim reached out for your oddly pale hand, only to retract his grip almost in an instant, however, feeling a chilling shiver run down his torso the moment his paw touched your limp arm.

Cold.

Your body, despite laying down beside a nearby fire, was cold. 

“Henchman. . .?”

“Hey, I’m not joking anymore, this isn’t funny!”

Grim’s senses sharpened. Something definitely was not right.

“Henchman!”

“Henchman get up!”

Furry paws grasped your shoulders with a frightening grip as he shook you even more, panic striking his trembling voice.

“(Y/N)!!!!!”

Then, in what seemed like a flash, visions of a terrible beast raising havoc among the NRC students and teachers alike invaded his memories with a resounding throb to his head. Was that him? Was all this his doing? More memories played through his mind as if his own conscience was taunting him. Dark magic soared across the mirror chambers, students filed out of the chaos, he exerted black, oozing blot, and you. 

You.

You appeared, terrified and fumbling over your own feet, attempting to reach wherever he was in his unhinged state while gripping a gruesome wound to your side. Blasts of his blue fire were aimed at you, taking you down with each blow. You were dying.

No, no, no!

Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!

Unwanted memories continued to play in the feline’s head. What was real? What was fake? Grim’s very grasp of reality dissipated into nothingness as he paid no more mind to his surroundings. There’s no way he could have done this! No way!

Grim began to lose sight of whatever logical thinking he had left. Where was he? Why wouldn’t you stand up? What day was it? Where were Ace and Deuce? The small beast felt trickles of water droplets fall from his eye to his cheek. Was it raining? Why did it feel so odd to smile past his pain?

From the corner of his peripheral vision, Grim could recognize a shining black stone that could only be the result of a devastating overblot. Rage boiled within him. Piercing screeches were heard miles away as he broke down with disbelief. 

Stop fooling around already!

Grim collapsed to his exhausted knees, paying no mind to the way the deathly liquid dripping from your stomach slightly stained his gray fur.

(Y/n). . .

The cat clutched the prefect’s torn sleeve, filling the air with a final cry, similar to the wails of a lost child on the street.

“Come home with me. . .”

“Please. .”

a/n: i love angst

[meganwritesfanfics]

All I Need to Know (Don’t Know Much Series)

Previous Part Next Part

Trigger Warnings: Talk of violence and blood.

Spoilers for The Last of Us tv show

“You are missing out on all the fun!” Joel called from the water. 

“I am having plenty of fun over here thank you very much!” Y/N called back as she lay on the beach. The sun was warm on her exposed skin. Her two piece bathing suit showed off her bump. For only being about 4 months along she had really started to pop. 

“Mom, come on.” Sarah giggled as she chased after Tommy who dove into the water. 

“Vikki really wants Mommy to come play.” Joel called again and Y/N leaned up on her elbows and watched and he held onto the two year old who was splashing around. 

“Mama!” She called as Joel set her little feet on the sand and she raced towards Y/N. 

“Come here baby.” Y/N giggled as she sat up and reached her arms out. She scooped up the little girl and started kissing her cubby cheeks. The laughter melted Y/N’s heart. Victoria looked so much like Joel, her smile, her cute little nose, and her dark brown curls. Y/N hoped that all of her children would look just like Joel. 

“Can I play with Vikki in the water?” Sarah asked as she walked up to Y/N. 

“Of course, just keep an eye on her, this little one likes to think she is a fish.” Joel laughed as he plopped down on the sand next to Y/N. 

“You want to play with sissy.” Y/N said and the toddler nodded. 

“Sarah!” She said as she reached her arms around and Sarah scooped her up. 

“We have done good Mama.” Joel said as he reached over and laid his hand on Y/N belly. 

“We really have.” Y/N said getting emotional. 

“Hey?” Joel asked his eyes quickly filling with concern. “What wrong?” 

“Hormones,” Y/N joked. “And also I am just so happy.” 

Joel laughed but he moved in closer. “You have made me the happiest man in the world Y/N. Every day I wake up and I can help but smile.” 

Now the waterworks really started. “Joel, you are making me cry, this isn’t fair you know my emotions are just a mess with this baby.” 

“I know something that could fix that.” He said seductively, as he leaned in and kissed Y/N’s neck. 

“Oh I bet you do Mr. Miller.” Y/N said as he eyes fluttered closed. 

Suddenly she felt Joel hoist her up and her eyes snapped open. 

“Joel!” She screamed as he carried her towards the water. “No!” 

“Alarm!” Y/N heard a voice say and it broke her out of her day dream. 

She had been making coffee when she got lost in her thoughts. It had been less than 6 months since she had lost the baby. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away. Today was not going to be a sad one, it was going to be one of celebration. It was Joel’s birthday after all. 

Sarah was down in the kitchen long before Joel, which was not unusual as either her or Y/N were usually the ones to wake him up. 

“Good morning sweetheart,” Y/N said as she walked over to the fridge and poured out a glass of orange juice for herself and for Sarah. 

“Pour one for dad too,” Sarah said as she reached around and grabbed eggs from the fridge and walked over to the stove. “He needs some Vitamin C. I swear his blood is nothing but coffee.” 

“He is so lucky he has two wonderful women in his life who take care of him.” Y/N smiled. 

“I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to survive without us.” Sarah giggled as she cracked an egg into the pan. 

“Just a heads up, he totally forgot to pick up pancake mix.” Y/N said as she sipped her orange juice. 

“Seriously, I was going to make him birthday pancakes.” Sarah sighed. 

“Hey, how about I make us birthday pancakes for dinner. Your dad probably won’t be home anyway and then we can celebrate his own birthday without him.” Y/N laughed. 

“Sounds like a plan. Oh I won’t be able to ride with you to school today, I have to go get dad’s present.” Sarah continued as she turned back to the stove. 

Y/N reached into the fridge and grabbed out the bacon before returning and standing next to Sarah. 

“Have you given him your present?” Sarah asked and Y/N thought about the package she had stored in the hall closet covered by some luggage that no one had touched in ages. 

“No I figured I can give it to him tonight when we have cake.” Y/N said. 

Joel made his way down the stairs, and Y/N turned to look at him. Even after all the years that they had been together, Y/N couldn’t help but get butterflies in her stomach every time she saw him. Even if he was wearing his shirt inside out. A fact that Y/N was preparing to tease him about relentlessly. 

“Well if it isn’t the birthday boy.” Y/N smiled. 

“Well if it isn’t my two beautiful girls.” Joel smiled as he kissed Y/N. 

“We were going to make pancakes but someone forgot to pick up the pancake mix.” Sarah chimed in. 

“You know, I don’t even really like pancakes.” 

“They weren’t for you, they were for me and mom.” Every time Sarah called her mom, Y/N couldn’t help but smile. 

Joel had made his way over to the coffee machine when Y/N quickly grabbed his arm. 

“No, Dr. Sarah over here requests that you have some orange juice before your coffee this morning.” Y/N laughed as she placed the glass in his hand. 

Joel stuck his tongue out at Sarah and she did the same. 

By the time they had gotten breakfast all ready, Y/N knew she only was going to be able to stay for a little while longer before she had to get to school. 

“How old are you in anyway,” Sarah asked. 

“Thirty-six,” 

“Gonna half to wear diapers soon.” 

“Who says I’m not already.” 

“And on that note, I’m going to head out.” Y/N said as she picked up her plate and walked towards the sink.  It was then that she heard the garage door opening. 

“Is there enough for Uncle Tommy?” Joel asked. 

“There would have been.” Sarah laughed. 

Y/N sighed as she watched Tommy come in. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Tommy, she loved him, he was like a little brother to her as well. But Tommy always found a way of getting himself into trouble, and by getting himself into trouble, he expected Joel to bail him out. She couldn’t count the amount of times Joel had had to go out in the middle to the night to bail Tommy out. Not to mention he absolutely depended on Joel for everything. 

“You’re still alive, you old fucker.” Tommy laughed as he patted Joel on the back and made his way towards the fridge. 

“Aw, he loves you.” Sarah teased. 

“He’s dependent on me. Not the same thing.” Joel said as he made eye contact with Y/N. Tommy was the one constant thing in their relationship that caused them to fight. 

“I think it’s the same.” Sarah chimed in. 

“It’s definitely the same.” Tommy laughed. “Morning Y/N.” He smiled as he pulled open the fridge. 

“Good morning Tommy,” Y/N said. “Promise me you will convince your brother to come home early since it is his birthday.” 

“You and I both know that the only person who can tell Joel what to do is you.” 

“Hey!” Sarah exclaimed her mouth full of eggs. 

“Sorry babygirl, Tommy’s right. You may have me wrapped around your finger, but whatever Y/N says goes.” Joel smiled as he made his way over to Y/N and gave her a big kiss. 

“Well then birthday boy, I expect you home at a reasonable hour, and with cake.” Y/N smiled as she ran her fingers through his hair. 

“Woman, are you making me buy my own birthday cake.” 

“Well seeing as you forgot to buy pancake mix…” She teased. 

“Alright alright.” 

“Now I’ve got to get to work but I will see you tonight.” Y/N kissed him again before she turned and walked towards the garage. 

“Wait,” She heard Joel call and his hand wrapped around her wrist pulling her back into him. “I love you.” He kissed her again hard. 

“I love you too Joel.” She beamed but her mind drifted back to her daydream and her heart broke a little. As she opened the door to leave she called back over her shoulder. “Your shirt is inside out.” 

“Shit,” She heard Joel say and she could hear Sarah laughing as she shut the door behind her. 

*******

The day dragged on, all Y/N wanted to do was be curled up on the couch with Joel and Sarah watching some shitty movie, but she had to work. School was still rough because it was the first couple of weeks of classes so most of the students were still on summer time. Over the lunch break all the teachers were huddled together in the teacher lounge talking about everything that was going on in the news, She knew that what they were talking about was thousands of miles away, but still she couldn’t help but feel a knot growing in her stomach, as if it knew that something terrible was bound to happen. 

Luckily after lunch, most of the students were in a food coma, so they had calmed down a bit, which made the afternoon go by much faster. She spent an hour or so after school grading papers, before she made her back home. It usually only took her about 30 to 45 minutes to make it home depending on traffic. But for some reason it took her almost 2 hours. And it seemed like there were cops everywhere; racing down the street, parked in front of stores, and houses. By the time she reached the house her nerves were shot. 

“Sarah,” She called when she got in the house. But when she saw that all the lights were off, and there was no Sarah sitting on the couch the knot in her stomach grew even larger. “Sarah!” 

She dropped all of her bags on the floor and ran upstairs, her heart racing. As she peered inside Y/N found the room empty, and her heart dropped. 

Just as she was about to pull her phone out and call Joel she heard the front door open. 

“Y/N you are never going to guess what I found at the Adler’s Dad is going to…” Sarah started when Y/N rushed down the stairs and pulled her into her arms. “Woah what’s going on?” 

“I’m sorry, things were so weird and when I came home you weren’t here and I panicked.” Y/N gasped as she held onto Sarah tightly. As she backed away she quickly wiped the tears out of her eyes. “I’m sorry, sorry. What were you saying you found?” 

Sarah smiled as she held up the dvd. Curtis and Viper 2. One of Joel’s favorites. 

“Ugh no!” Y/N teased. “Do you know how many times your dad has made me watch this?” 

“It’s that bad huh?” 

“Oh it’s so bad, but I think your dad will be so excited to introduce you to it!” 

“Too bad he is going to be home late?” 

“What?” Y/N sighed. 

“He said he was going to work a double, but he would be back by nine.” Sarah said as she made her way over to the couch. 

“Yeah, we will see about that.” Y/N said as she picked up her bag and carried it over to the couch to sit with Sarah. “Do you have any homework?” 

“Nope got it all done.” Sarah said but she couldn’t help but smile at the lie. 

“God we need to work on your pokerface girlie, you are never going to be able to lie about anything to your father and me with a face like that.” Y/N laughed. “But it is Friday so I guess I will let you off the hook. You were probably planning on just made panicking Sunday night right?” 

“It’s what I do best.” 

Y/N sat with Sarah on the couch grading papers while Sarah flipped through channels. 9 came and went and Sarah had pulled out a magazine while Y/N watched the news, the fear filling back up as she watched different reports about the violence spreading around the Austin area. She tried her best to keep that fear off her face, she didn’t want Sarah to get worried. 

“Joel is just running late, as usually he will be home any minute.” Y/N thought. 

As the time inched closer to ten and the news reports got worse, Y/N could feel her hands shaking. Something felt wrong, she couldn’t exactly say what, but she was just filled with this feeling of absolute dread. 

When she heard the keys in the lock, she almost cried. She reached forward for the remote and shut off the tv as Joel his way towards the couch, sitting inbetween her and Sarah. 

He said down and laid back placing his hands on his eyes. This is the way most nights ended for the Miller family. Joel worked himself so hard during the day that he came back exhausted, and late. Y/N reached her hand behind him and began to gently rub his back. 

“It’s 10,” Sarah replied. 

“I know.” Joel sighed, “They gave us the wrong size for the headers,” He leaned forward to take off his boots and Y/N leaned forward to help. “Thanks darlin,” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “That doesn’t mean anything to you Sarah, I’m sorry.” 

“Where’s the cake?” Y/N whispered as quietly as possible. 

“Shit,” Joel said placing his head in his hands. 

“Come on man,” Sarah exclaimed. 

“I’ll get us one tomorrow.” 

“Swear or you don’t get your present.” 

Joel sat up and looked at Sarah eyes wide. 

“You got me a present?” 

“Mom did too, but we aren’t going to give it to you unless you swear.” 

“On my life.” Joel said. 

Sarah smiled. “Do you want to go first or should I?” She asked Y/N. 

“You go first, I’m going to move these toxic hazards somewhere else and then grab my gift.” Y/N laughed as she grabbed Joel’s boots and walked them back to the hall. She could hear Joel and Sarah laughing. For some reason as she grabbed the small present and the note from the closet she felt nervous. It was silly to feel nervous, her and Joel had been together for going on ten years. And everything she had written in this note were things they had expressed to one another so many times. But compiling it all into one note had been very emotional for her. 

Ever since they lost the baby, things between the two of them had been rockier than they had ever been in the past. It wasn’t bad, but it was different. Especially because Joel wanted to try again. He would never push her, that wasn’t the type of man Joel was, but he would gauge her thoughts on the idea. She wasn’t ready, and at the time she didn’t know if she would ever be ready again. Not if it meant she would have to face the idea of losing a child again. But time had passed and she felt her heart had healed enough. 

She made her way back towards the couch where she found Joel putting on the watch. 

“Now I know I can’t top Sarah’s gift. But here is one I think we will all enjoy.” But as she was handing over the present she grabbed the note from off the top and slipped it into her back pocket. 

She took her place next to Joel as he opened up the crudely wrapped present. 

“Who helped you wrap this, Tommy?” Joel laughed and Y/N smacked his arm. 

Inside was a Pearl Jam T-shirt with the cover of Joel’s favorite album on it. 

“Oh sweet thank you!” Joel said and he leaned over to give Y/N a kiss. 

“Wait, that isn’t it!” Sarah squealed excitedly. 

“You have to unfold the shirt.” Y/N responded. 

Joel gave her an inquisitive look but he did as he was told and three small slips of paper fell out. 

“Holy shit!” Joel exclaimed and Sarah laughed. “You got me tickets to Pearl Jam!” 

“Well technically I got all of us tickets to Pearl Jam but yes, they are in Dallas in the summer and I figured you would…” She started when he quickly pulled her in for a kiss. 

“How did I get so lucky.” Joel said as he put his arm around Y/N and Sarah and pulled them into him. 

“Can’t breath! Losing oxygen!” Sarah laughed. “Oh there is one more thing.” 

Y/N groaned playfully and Sarah pulled out the dvd from behind the pillow and Joel gasped as he grabbed it from her. 

“Borrowed it from the Adlers.” 

“Oh this is the one with the deleted scenes.�� 

“Yeah imagine how bad those have to be.” Sarah laughed. “C’mon pop it in while it’s still your birthday.” 

Joel stood up and placed the dvd in the player before he sat back down on the couch and both Y/N and Sarah cuddled up to him. 

“Don’t fall asleep.” Joel teased. 

“Course I won’t, it’s too riveting.” Sarah said. 

In less than an hour Sarah was out curled up with her head in Joel’s lap. If it hadn’t been for the note sitting in her pocket Y/N would have been out cold to. 

“Joel,” Y/N whispered not wanting to wake Sarah. “I have one more present for you.” 

“Y/N, you didn’t have to get me anything, you and Sarah are all I need.” Joel said. 

“Will you just hush and read it.” She said as she handed him the paper. 

Joel gave her a curious look before he unfolded the paper. He smiled when he started reading it but the smile quickly faded. Y/N felt her heart stop when Joel shifted Sarah carefully off his lap as he stood up still holding the note as he read it intensely. 

Y/N didn’t even know what to say as she stood there waiting for Joel to finish. She watched as he folded the paper back up his hands shaking slightly. He looked up at her tears in his eyes. 

“Y/N, this is…” He cleared his throat. “This is beautiful, I don’t… I don’t know how I got so lucky as to find you.” 

Y/N could feel her own eyes welling up with tears. “You are going to make me cry, stop it.” 

Joel pulled her into his arms holding her tightly. “I love you Y/N, so god damn much.” 

“I love you too Joel. And I meant what I said, I’m ready to start trying for a baby again.” 

He kissed her again hard and she felt his hands working their way up her shirt. 

“Joel, I don’t mean right this second. Sarah is asleep right there.” Y/N giggled. 

“She’s a heavy sleeper, we will be fine.” He said kissing her again. 

They had just started to make their way towards the stairs when Joel's cell phone began buzzing on the table. 

Joel groaned as he backed away from Y/N and made his way to grab it. “Who the hell is calling at this hour?” 

“Joel Miller, you and I both know who is calling.” Y/N sighed as she straightened her shirt back out. 

“Hello?” Joel answered. “Yeah? Goddamnit.” Joel rubbed his eyes and he turned to look at Y/N. “Now?” 

Y/N rolled her eyes as she made her way upstairs to get ready for bed realizing that their plans for the evening had quickly changed. It wasn’t long before she heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. She peered out from the bathroom and saw Joel carrying Sarah to her room. 

She followed and watched as he laid her in bed and leaned down to kiss her forehead before turning back to Y/N with a pleading look in his eyes. 

Neither said a word until they knew they were out of earshot of the sleeping teenager. 

“Tommy is in jail.” Joel sighed. 

“Shit,” Y/N gasped as she ran her hands through her hair. 

“He needs me to come pick him up because if I don’t today he will be stuck in there all weekend. I’m so sorry baby.” 

“No, it’s fine. I don’t want him to be stuck in jail.” Y/N said. “Just please be careful, the news keeps talking about the violence that is happening everywhere and there were so many cops on my drive home and I…” 

“Woah,” Joel said as he grabbed her face in his hands. “Just breath for me darlin’” 

Y/N took a deep breath as she closed the distance between her and Joel as she wrapped her arms around him. 

“Please just promise me you will be careful.” 

“I will go get Tommy, kick his ass, and then I will be right home I promise.” He said as he leaned down and kissed the top of Y/N’s head. “And then when I get back…” He growled seductivly. 

“Oh no, I will be asleep. You had your chance.” Y/N laughed. 

“But it’s my birthday!” Joel whined. 

“It won’t be your birthday by the time you get back.” 

“I will speed, I will be back here before midnight.” 

“If you can get back here before midnight you might get lucky tonight Miller, but I don’t see that happening.” 

“I like a challenge.” Joel said as he kissed her hard again. He large hands gripped her waist and squeezed causing her to moan. 

“Joel,” She gasped. “If you don’t leave now you won’t make it back in time.” 

“Ugh, fine.” He laughed as he pulled away. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” She watched him leave The minute he was out of view she felt the exhaustion hit her. Y/N went up to her and Joel room and laid down, thinking that she would just rest her eyes wanting to stay awake for when Joel got home, but the minute her head hit the pillow she drifted off to sleep. 

******

“Dad?” She heard a voice call and it woke her up. “Y/N?” She turned sleepy to see Sarah standing in the doorway. Suddenly a helicopter roared over head shaking the house. 

Y/N looked at the clock and saw that it was two in the morning. Panic set in when she found her bed empty and no sign of Joel. 

“Joel?!” She called as she followed Sarah downstairs. 

The house was empty. The noises that filled the air only added to the panic that Y/N felt but she tried to keep calm for Sarah’s sake. 

“Where is Dad?” Sarah asked worried. 

“He had to go pick up Tommy, he should be back soon.” Y/N said as she reached for the remote and turned on the tv hoping to find answers as to what was going on. 

The tv turned on to the emergency broadcast sound. “Law enforcement and emergency services are in the area and will be in contact with further instructions… 

Suddenly there was a loud banging sound and both Y/N and Sarah jumped. Y/N grabbed Sarah and pushed her behind her, but their assailant they found was Mercy, the Adler’s dog. 

“Jesus Christ.” Y/N gasped. “That’s it I’m calling your dad,” Y/N walked away from Sarah into the kitchen to grab the phone. 

In an instant she dialed Joel’s phone number, and began pacing around the kitchen waiting for him to answer. 

“You have reached Joel Miller, sorry I couldn’t come to the…” The voicemail responded and Y/N slammed the phone back down. 

“Fuck!” She whispered under her breath. She balled her hands into fists trying to stop them from shaking. “Knowing your dad, he has the volume turned all the way down so he…” Y/N tried to laugh but when she turned the corner she found Sarah was gone and the front door was wide open. “Sarah!” 

Y/N burst out the front door just in time to watch Mercy sprint down the street. “Sarah!” She screamed again and turned to see Sarah standing in the Adler’s yard. “What the hell Sarah, you can’t just go off like that, you scared the shit out of me…” 

“I think something happened to the Adler’s.” Sarah said. 

Y/N made her way over to Sarah and saw what she was looking at. The front door to the Adler’s was wide open and they could hear clanging coming from inside. Y/N’s blood ran cold. 

“Ok, Sarah we are going to quietly make our way back to the house.” Y/N whispered. 

“But what if they are hurt?” 

Y/N sighed. “I will check on them, you go back and lock the door behind you.” 

“No, I’m not leaving you.” 

“Sarah I…” Y/N snapped but she knew that Sarah was far too stubborn to persuade her otherwise. “Fine but stay behind me, understood.” 

She just nodded and she got up close to Y/N as they made their way into the house. 

The first thing they saw was the rug was bunched up right at the door and Mercy’s lease was laying on the ground. It looked as though they had been heading out the door for a walk when whatever happened, happened. 

“Mrs. Adler?” Y/N called as they inched forward in the house. Another loud clang came from the kitchen and Sarah grabbed onto Y/N hand tightly. 

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah called as they made their way toward the kitchen. Y/N had just taken a step inside when her foot slipped on something wet. She looked down in horror to find a large trail of blood and at the end was Mr. Adler leaning up against the wall. 

“Help me,” He gasped. 

“Oh my god,” Y/N inched forward but watched as Mr. Adler frantically looked from her to his left then back at her again. Y/N followed his sightline and froze when she saw Nana Adler on top of Mrs. Adler and it looked like she was eating her. As Nana Adler slowly looked up Y/N saw what looked like vines growing out of her mouth. “Sarah.” She tried to say but no words came out as she stood in fear watching as the old woman locked eyes with her and let out a loud screech. “Run!” She screamed as she turned back to Sarah and the two bolted from the house. 

Y/N looked over her shoulder to see if they were being followed when she heard the sound of a car and saw the headlights. 

“Get in the truck right now!” She heard a voice say and she knew it was Joel. “Move,” He said as he grabbed onto Sarah and started to push her towards the truck, Y/N following closely behind the two of them. 

Another loud screech came from the house as everyone turned in horror to watch Nana Adler burst from the house. She tripped on the rug and landed with a sickening crack on the floor. Joel had one hand on Sarah and the other he held a large wrench, but he used that hand to start to push Y/N behind him. 

“What are we doing Joel?” Tommy screamed as Nana Adler sprinted towards them. 

Just before she reached them Y/N lunged at Sarah to try to protect her, and Joel took a swing with the wrench, cracking Nana Adler across the face and she landed on the ground unmoving. 

Y/N grabbed onto Sarah and pulled her in, trying to shield her from the body. She had tears in her eyes as she looked over at Joel. 

“You killed her,” She gasped and he dropped the wrench pulling both Y/N and Sarah into his arms. 

“I’m sorry baby,” He said. 

“Joel we got to go,” Tommy replied and that was the first time Y/N noticed that Tommy had a shotgun. 

“Listen to me,” Joel said. “It’s not just the Adlers.” 

Sarah moved out of Y/N’s embrace to look at her father, tears streaming down her face. 

“We are going to be brave. And we are going to get out of this.” He said as he grabbed her face in his hands. 

There was a loud explosion behind them and Y/N jumped still holding on tightly to both Sarah and Joel. 

“Let’s go come one.” Tommy said as he went back to the driver’s seat. 

Joel helped Sarah into the car and as he reached back for Y/N she threw her arms around him. 

“We are going to be ok Joel, aren’t we?” She asked terrified. 

“I promise darlin’ I’m not going to let anything happen to you or Sarah.” He kissed the side of her head as he helped her into the car. 

Previous Part Next Part

[wito-chan-bla-bla]

Ways of love

Morax just wants to learn human emotions from you! Okay, maybe he's a little jealous because you're hugging and kissing your friend. Maybe he wants you to hug and love only him. But he's God, so don't ask questions and just help him learn to show love like his people do!

~

Warnings: I do not know if people consider strange hints in the text and mentions of hickeys as a warning, but... I'll just leave this text here.

~

From the very moment you appeared in this world, you have been close to people. You were the spirit of the waterfall, so you constantly saw how mortals communicate next to you, fish, swim in the waters of the lake nearby. You liked this people.

Therefore, after Morax came to your territory and offered to become his servant, you decided to agree. 

 You liked people, you didn't want them to suffer. You didn't know Morax then, but you felt that he was capable of breaking your neck with two fingers. What can we say about the bodies of mortals.

So, at the moment you were walking next to your god, looking at happy people. It seems that they soon have some kind of holiday that has nothing to do with the gods they worship. 

 Mortals were running back and forth in the village, hugging, laughing and even kissing. You looked with a small smile at how ordinary people, who were pathetic bugs compared to the gods, behave so charmingly.

–What are they doing, (Y/N)? 

 You stopped, almost bumping into the back of your god. Hastily stepping back, you coughed and decided to clarify:

–What are you talking about, my God?

–I'm talking about those people, – the dragon pointed to the spouses who were hugging. Suddenly a little girl ran up to them, and the man picked her up in his arms, spun her around and kissed her on the cheek.

–I suppose that's how mortals show affection. Hugs and kisses on the cheek are ways to show other mortals that you love them as a friend.

–How do people show that they love each other as lovers? Those spouses also hugged.

You frowned at Morax. Why did he decide to talk about it? You frowned harder, but answered:

–Usually people do the same. But hugs become more intimate and strong, people kiss each other not only on the cheeks, but also on the lips.

–So this is how mortals show their feelings... 

 God muttered, and then quickly began to walk forward. You rode from behind, watching the dragon's tail move quickly and barely noticeably from side to side. What was he up to?

*+*

Your eyes were covered with small palms, someone giggled from behind.

–Guess who?

You touched the palms of a familiar creature and smiled. After shouting out the name, you turned around sharply to see an old friend. The young guy was the spirit of a small forest, next to which was your waterfall. So, you and him quickly became good friends. This was greatly facilitated by the common love for mortal people.

When Morax arrived, your friend's territory was also "in danger", so he also decided to join the alliance with you. He also loved people and learned a lot from them, so after taking his current form for people, he was indistinguishable from an ordinary mortal. You put your hands on your hips and swayed from side to side.

–Who else would dare to touch the great me, besides you, m?

–You didn't notice the attack from behind, so you're not that great... he shrugged, spreading his hands.

–But I can easily defeat you in a fair fight!

–Can we check it out?

–I will fight for my god so I don't lose!"

You jumped on your friend, starting to poke him under the sides. The Immortals weren't afraid of being tickled, but he laughed anyway, until eventually he squeezed you in his arms.

You were constantly fighting the enemies of your god or visiting mortals to discuss matters concerning themselves with them, so such moments were truly precious. 

 You involuntarily remember those times when you were just a spirit splashing water on trees so that your friend would come and play with you.

You continued to be hugged and pressed to your chest. Suddenly, footsteps were heard, and both spirits turned their heads. God froze at the end of the corridor. Pulling away from each other, the immortals bowed low and greeted their lord.

Morax was slowly approaching. Your back started to hurt when he stopped, his bare feet finally became visible. God ordered the creatures to raise their heads.

–What can we do for you, my God? your friend asked, looking not at all scared. Sometimes you wanted to hit him for his stupid fearlessness.

–You... nothing, – he answered rudely, turning to you. This is my end, isnt it? – I've been thinking for a long time about what you said about people's relationships with each other, (Y/N). And I think I have to study it all myself to understand how to rule the people.

You exhaled with relief. It looks like everything will be fine… Wait, wait a minute… Why is he looking at me like that?..

You barely restrained yourself from screaming when the tall god embraced you. His tail hit the floor hard, hitting your friend's leg. He didn't even move a millimeter, although he was clearly in a bit of pain.

You felt the blush spreading across your face when Morax pressed you into his bare chest. But you could only hug him back by placing your right cheek on his bare skin. You heard out of the corner of your ear how God was sniffing the air next to you, but you chose to focus on hugging.

When he pulled away, his scent was all around you, the warmth of his embrace was still felt on your skin. Morax's cheeks were a little red. He turned around and quickly walked away.

Your friend just laughed at your excited face and, grabbing your hands, offered to go have fun somewhere else.

*+*

You talked to people, figuring out what they need, what they lack. Your friend played with the children nearby, entertaining them by creating flowers in his hands, and then destroying them, turning them into colored dust.

Suddenly your friend "attacked" you from behind, turned you around to face him and danced. The dust created by him from flowers flew up, coloring your hair in different colors.

–W-what happened? – you asked in surprise, however, starting to dance with the spirit.

–Children are asking for a dance of the guardians of nature! Come on, (Y/N), let's show them everything we have!

You laughed and started making silly movements, holding hands with your friend. Usually such dances were perceived as part of a marriage ceremony between spirits, but sometimes it was considered just a form of friendly intimacy. But since this definitely shouldn't happen in front of everyone, especially people, it definitely wasn't a marriage ceremony.

Well, you were hoping that no one would think it was a marriage ceremony. You continued to dance with your friend, sometimes kissing him on the cheeks. In the original, these movements were the transfer of a part of the force, but in your case it was just a friendly gesture. And even if the kisses were too frequent, your friend was still just a friend!

But it seems that Geo's overlord didn't like it. For how to explain the fact that suddenly a big crack appeared behind your friend, into which he should fall? And would have fallen if the spirit of the forest had not fallen on you! He just jerked, and now you are already flying to the ground. Fortunately, your body was quite durable, and a friend's hand held your head from behind so that you wouldn't hit it, so everything was fine.

Your friend was on top of you, his lips close to your neck. The spirit suddenly laughed and clung to your neck, blowing sharply into it. You screamed and giggled, trying to deal with the tickling by kicking him, but he never left. In the end, it ended up with your face being kissed as an apology. It was more like a puppy licking the owner's face than really showing sympathy, but still...

When the earth shook, powerfully, but imperceptibly for mortals, you felt that you were in trouble.

*+*

–What can I do for you, my God? –  you asked, sitting on one knee in front of the throne on which Morax was sitting. You didn't dare raise your head at him because his aura was dark and fear-inducing.

–I've seen you and the little spirit of the forest show... sympathy for each other. I'd like to get a better look at your relationship, since you've spent so much time around people.

–Oh, my God, I assure you, this is just a friendly expression of sympathy. This will not interfere in any way with my work as your... – Morax was next to you in a second and easily lifted you up with his big and strong hands, – s-servants. M-my God? – you squeaked.

–So this is how people show friendly affection for each other?

–Well, uh, not really... but!..

–Then I'm going to understand how friendly and romantic affection differ. And you will help me in this.

Your cheeks are flushed. Morax put you on the floor, but he only let you mumble: “M-my God, what do you mean?.." – and then he hugged you hard.

You abruptly crashed into the immortal's chest, bumping your nose a little. But you were more focused not on the pain, but on the tail, which wrapped around your legs, forcing you only to press closer to the Morax. Well, now you definitely couldn't escape.

You wanted to try to ask the question again, but at that moment God's lips pressed against yours, and all thoughts were disconnected.

It was... a bad kiss. A very bad kiss. Morax kissed you so sharply that you bit your lip, and his teeth hit yours. However, God still continued to press his lips to your lips, cupping your face with his palms.

You put your hands on top of him and gently moved away to make the kiss pleasant and comfortable. Inside you were suffocating and just screaming. But for everyone else, you just closed your eyes and continued to kiss your god. (Although not that anyone was in the room to see it).

When Morax broke away from you, you had another chance for asking a question, but you already knew that it wouldn't work. And you were right! Geo Lord kissed you on the lips again, this time softer and more tender. He realized that he had done something wrong, and tried to correct himself.

The second time was much better. He made sure not to put too much pressure on you and your body. One of his hands rested on your waist, the other continued to rest on your cheek. The tail loosened its grip. Soon Morax was kissing you freely and calmly on the lips, cheeks, forehead, temples and chin. His rough actions quickly became soft and gentle. He was growling something, but you never knew the language of animals. Especially the true language of dragons.

In the end, Morax put his forehead on yours, as your friend did, but there was already a certain intimacy in this particular action. The dragon kissed you again, and in this kiss you could literally hear the words: "You are my treasure, I will not give you to anyone."

Or you imagined it. Who knows?

When the god finally came off, his cheeks were red. He asked with interest and innocence:

–Did I manage to understand well what to do with my lover?

–Ah-h?

You blushed harder and swallowed, trying to calm your wildly beating heart. You were afraid that the dragon would say after your answer: "Great. Then I'll go to Guizhong", – and just leave. But he didn't.

–That's how… That's fine,  – despite the words, you were not allowed to go anywhere. Only they pressed her closer to them, putting her head on top of her head. – I have a task for you, (Y/N).

–Y-yes? – you heard how fast his heart was beating.

–I want you to find out what other ways of showing romantic love people have and come to me with a report.

–Uh... okay. Is it possible to ask what you are going to do with this information next?

Morax leaned over, gently kissing you on the nose.

–I'm going to practice with you.

Your cheeks are flushed more. Morax hugged you to him like a small child hugging a toy. The dragon purred contentedly, his tail wrapped tightly around your legs again.

Your heart was beating fast in ears. Even without going to people, you knew what you could teach your god…

–May I show you how else you can show love?

–Yes. You can start now, (Y/N).

Bonus (?)

–So-o, what did you get? Judging by those cute purple spots on your skin, everything was fun!

–S-shut up. This does not concern human affection at all. This is his dragon side.

–But I did a good job, didn't I? No, of course I love you, my dear friend, but showing such open affection is still not really my style. Even if it shows my love for you as my dearest friend, – your friend, the spirit of the forest, put his arm around your shoulders and kissed you on the cheek. – Even if you have another man in your life, do you promise that you will not forget me? Yes? Yes?

You irritably shouted his name and began to poke in the sides, began to tickle. As a result, they were on top of their friend again, hugging him by the neck.

At that moment, Morax came into the room, frozen in the aisle. By his aura alone, you felt that this time would definitely not end with simple kisses…

[kaiwewi]

Hoi :3 I read your Guilty Conscience stuff, could we get a part 6? (Ima cry but it'll be worth it TwT) Have a good day I love your writing <3

Thank you!! Of course you can have a part 6 ❤ @hollowgast1 sent a request too, so you'll also get part 7 in a few hours. Just need to edit and proofread it again first 😘

Guilty Conscience #6

[Masterlist: Renegade Rescue Squad] [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

Synopsis: With Other Villain gone, Villain is trying to calm down and come up with a plan. The hero is watching.

tw: whump, captivity, knife, blood

He shouldn’t have wiped the blood on his shirt. He shouldn’t have wiped his hand at all yet.

Grimacing, Villain leaned down and fished his knife out of the puddle of blood which was slowly claiming the floor – running along the grout lines, turning one tile after another into a tiny island in a sea of crimson. His footsteps destroyed parts of this delicate grid structure and left smaller, vaguely footprint-shaped puddles behind as he made his way to the sink, dripping knife in hand.

He’d be fine. One step at a time. Careful not to slip. Deep breaths. Everything would be fine.

Hand hovering over the faucet lever, he hesitated.

The syringe was still in the sink. If Other Villain was to be believed, it had only held normal saline – nothing to be concerned about. On second thought though, Other Villain didn’t seem the most trustworthy person….

He picked up the syringe and slid it into the empty leather sheath on his belt, then cleaned his knife and put that away as well.

Washing his hands took considerably longer. The icy water rinsed off the blood all right, but that did little to make his hands feel as immaculate as they looked. So he kept going. Even when he was sure – rationally speaking – that there couldn’t possibly be any blood left, he still kept scrubbing. His fingers were stiff, red, and aching from the cold by the time he could bring himself to stop.

He had to pull himself together.

Upon turning around, he found the little hero eyeing him. They’d probably been watching him this entire time, quiet scorn in their gaze – disapproval perhaps, and suspicion. Well. Fair enough.

He sucked in a steadying breath and took a few careful steps towards them.

The little hero’s jaw clenched.

He paused. Great. They were terrified of him… of course they were. He shouldn’t have laughed like a fucking lunatic. The hero probably thought him crazier than Other Villain.

He sighed deeply, frowned down at the hero’s swollen ankle – probably strained, possibly broken – and immediately heaved another sigh. There was no way the hero could put any weight on that leg. He would have to carry them out of here, and the hero definitely wouldn’t appreciate that sentiment.

“Look,” he said, too exhausted to muster the perhaps appropriate patience, and held his hands up in a hopefully placating manner, “I get that you don’t trust me, but I’m not staying here a second longer than absolutely necessary. I’m leaving now – with or without you. Your choice. If you’d rather stay here, be my guest.” He shrugged. “Well. Other Villain’s guest, I suppose.”

The little hero’s eyes widened a fraction.

“No! No, wait.” They cleared their throat, then swallowed. “Just, don’t leave me here, okay? I really don’t want to be here… you know… when they come back.”

“Right.” He approached them, every movement agonisingly slow and deliberate, and began to fumble with the buckles binding the poor thing to the chair. “Though, frankly,” – he spared a glance at his own reflection in the dark pool at his feet – “I’d be surprised if Other Villain made it out alive.”

The hero didn’t reply, and perhaps it was better for both their sanity’s sake to not further discuss 'Schrödinger’s murder' – was it committed or merely attempted? – while standing in a puddle of the victim’s blood in the centre of a torture dungeon.

Besides, they’d find out soon enough if Other Villain truly had passed out in the hallway or bled to death halfway up the stairs.

Come to think of it, why did secret torture dungeons always have to be in basements? If the entire compound was a villain’s secret lair, there should be no harm in setting up the torture chamber in a more convenient location. – On the ground floor, for example, where the ventilation was good, where mobile reception was a thing, and where one didn’t have to carry victims up and down seemingly endless flights of steps.

“Ready?”

The hero didn’t answer.

He placed one tentative arm in the crook of their knees, slid the other around their back. When the little hero still didn’t offer any protests, he lifted them up into his arms and made his way to the door.

[Part 7]

[kkodzvken]

take the dive - sugawara koushi x milf!reader

tags/warnings: smut, 18+ ONLY! slight dubcon, infidelity, post timeskip (suga teaches reader’s kids). overstimulation and slight dumbification, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, semi-public (in an empty classroom)

a/n: this is my piece for @ultimate-astridwriting’s milf fuckers collab, which you can find here!! thank you for hosting this astrid, and thank u to everyone in the server for ur love and support as i worked on this <33. title cred: take the dive by jonghyun

wc: 3.9k

Amidst a faculty full of stuffy old dinosaurs and suits, Sugawara Koushi is a breath of fresh air. He’s a welcome distraction, a pretty face to focus on at dull PTA meetings and assemblies. And you knew that you weren’t the only one making heart eyes at him. Everywhere that he went, heads turned, and moms whispered. At the bus stop, on the sidelines of sports matches, in the waiting rooms outside dance classes.

It was just that, though -- just whispers. Little knowing glances and nudged shoulders, dreamy sighs and brief sinful indulgences. Nothing more than a brief escape from the monotony of your everyday lives. You’d lose yourselves in the fantasy for a few seconds, and then pull your heads down from the clouds and plant your feet on solid ground. You enjoyed your gossip with the other moms, and then you returned home, to your husband and children. To your family.

You love them, of course. Your children are your world, and your husband is a good man. He’s a good man, and that’s what made it so hard. He treats you well, keeps his words soft and never once put his hands on you. 

He may be good, but, God, was he boring. You can’t remember the last time that he’d even kissed you, let alone fucked you. He came home later and later each night, too tired from work to do anything but silently scarf down his dinner and plant himself on the couch in front of the television. He dragged himself into bed hours after you did. He tried to be quiet, he really did, but he woke you up every single night with his stomping and shuffling. When you snuggled closer to him, he pushed you off. My back hurts too bad, he’d say, voice tinged with regret. Remind me to book another appointment with the chiropractor. 

It was always some excuse or another. 

So, really, you couldn’t blame yourself for your wandering eye. You weren’t going to act on it, of course -- you weren’t a cheater -- but the young teacher was something to occupy yourself with. A pretty face to fill your thoughts as you wrangled your horde of screaming kids from swim lessons to dance practice to art classes. A pretty, pretty body to imagine as you fucked yourself with your fingers, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to muffle your moans. You couldn’t help but imagine that it was him, lithe body leaning over yours. No complaints of aching backs and sore muscles, none of the complications that came with age. 

You’d leave your husband catatonic on the couch, put the kids to sleep, and then go dream of their hot teacher. You should’ve been more ashamed, but there was a part of you that loved the thrill of it. You flushed whenever you saw Mr. Sugawara the next morning, memories of your illicit thoughts filling your mind, but it also made your body feel electric. 

Of course there was a part of you that longed to throw caution to the wind and jump the young man, but your conscience was much stronger than your weak, lustful thoughts. You were happy with the way things were now. As dull as your husband was, and as insufferable as the children could sometimes be, you were happy. 

This was all you had ever wanted. A house in the suburbs, a husband with a well-paying job, three kids and a dog. You’re living the fucking dream. You’re happy, you tell yourself.

So why the fuck are you so unsatisfied?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

With a deep breath, you stare down the heavy glass doors at the school’s entrance. You want nothing more than to find the idiot architect who designed this building, and strangle him for installing pull doors. Your arms are already sore from carrying the giant tray of brownies from your car to the front of the school, and you worry that if you put the treats down to open the door, you wouldn’t be able to lift them up again. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you have two minutes left to reach the gym where the bake sale is being held. The PTA president is notorious for hating latecomers, and you weren’t in the mood to get your head bit off.

You’re debating doing some gymnastics and using your foot to grab the handle, when you notice footsteps approaching from behind you. You open your mouth to ask for help, but they beat you to it. “Let me get the door,” says their syrupy, melodic voice.

Their familiar voice.

Your body practically freezes as a strong arm reaches over your shoulder. Long fingers – fingers that you’ve fantasized about too many times to count – twist the handle and push it open easily. You don’t know how you didn’t notice him approaching sooner, but now that he’s here, your senses are in overdrive. The sweet scent of his cologne, the sound of his breath, the warmth of his body – it’s all too much, and it makes your knees feel weak.

“Mr. Sugawara,” you say, voice coming out much breathier than you intended. This must be some kind of Pavlovian response from all your fantasizing, because there is no reason for your stomach to be twisting right now. “Thank you.”

He grins sheepishly and steps away, and you hate the way that your body screams at you to lean into him. “It’s no problem. Is that for the bake sale? Here, let me carry it for you.”

You try to protest, but there’s really no point. His long fingers are already pushing yours to the sides, and you swear you’ve been electrified as he pulls the tray out of your hands. It’s a shame, really, that he’s wearing a button-down. The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, at least, but you would’ve loved to see his biceps flex as he carried that tray…

What am I doing? You dig your nails into your palm to snap yourself out of your thoughts, but it’s hard to stay lucid when he’s so beautiful. He carries the brownies with ease, using just one arm to support their weight as the other holds the door open for you. It should make you upset, that you’re so weak in comparison to him, but the thought just makes you feel even more breathless. He’s so strong, so young, and so unlike your husband.

“Thank you,” you say again as he steps into the building behind you. You reach for the tray, but he waves you off.

“Nonsense. I’ll walk you to the gym.”

“Oh, really, you don’t have to—”

“I insist. Anything for my favorite mom.”

His…favorite? His words leave you too stupefied to protest any further, and he takes your silence as compliance. Your body automatically follows in his footsteps as he paces down the hallways.

He looks over at you and smiles comfortingly. It lights up his entire face, but does little to ease your turbulent thoughts.

Your mind is still fixated on his words as you step onto the squeaky wood flooring of the gymnasium. Sugawara calmly walks over to the PTA president, who looks like she’s about to rip her hair out. She’s surrounded by a gaggle of other moms, all jabbering away with concern painted across their faces.

“Is something wrong, ladies?” he asks. His voice snaps them all out of their conversation, and their eyes widen as they take him in.

“Yes,” says the PTA president scornfully. “We were supposed to have the brownies here already! The sale starts in ten minutes, and if this keeps up, I won’t have enough time to inventory everything and make it presentable, and –”

“I have the brownies,” you cut in, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

She blanches, and looks from you to the tray in Sugawara’s arms. An oh is all she can muster before grabbing the brownies and rushing off.

“Is everything okay?” one of the other moms asks, her voice laced with fake sweetness. “Oh, and you look so tired, dear. If you couldn’t manage your part, you should’ve just said so!”

“It would’ve been no trouble,” another woman says. “I’d have had no trouble whipping up a tray for you! Everyone always does love my baking.”

You grit your teeth and resist the urge to snap at them. It’s always like this – the other moms seem so in tune with their lives of domestic bliss, playing games of politics and constantly competing to be the best. Try as you might, you just can’t satisfy yourself with a life like theirs.

The material of Sugawara’s shirt brushes against you, and you start. He doesn’t pull away as you flinch, instead gently resting his hand on the small of your back. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I steal her away? Mrs. (L/N), I have your son’s science fair project sitting in my classroom. He keeps forgetting to bring it home. Would you like to go collect it now?”

You nod, relieved at the excuse to escape these women and their sickening artificial sweetness. Sugawara gently guides you with the hand on your back. You can’t help but internally smirk at the thinly-veiled jealousy on the faces of the other mothers.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.  

“This is why you’re my favorite,” Sugawara says, once you’re safely out of earshot. “All these PTA moms are so fake. But you’re not like that, are you?”

You nod, still a bit convinced that this is all a dream. He doesn’t remove his hand from your back as you walk down the hallways, and only pulls away when you reach the door to his classroom. He fishes through his pocket and pulls out a ring of keys, before insert one into the knob and pushing the door open. He gestures for you to enter first, and so you do, blinking at the harsh sudden brightness of the automatic lights.

You awkwardly glance around the room. You’ve been here plenty of times before, but that was all during the daytime, when it was packed full of energetic children. It feels…strange, to be alone in a classroom as an adult. Or, well, alone, except for the stupidly attractive teacher that you’ve been lusting over.

“Where’s the project?” you ask, trying to diffuse some of the tension building in your stomach. “I should head home soon.”

Sugawara leans his back against the door and cocks his head. “You know, I know what you say about me.”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb.” His eyes rove across your body, lingering on your chest for far longer than they should. “I’m not deaf, you know. I hear all the things you say about me. You’re just like all the other moms.” He pushes off the door, stalking closer to you. You instinctively take a step back. “Only difference is, you might actually have the guts to do something about it.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, so hard that you think your ribs might bruise. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Sugawara. I-”

You take another step back, and another, and suddenly your back collides with concrete. Your body jolts, and you yelp at the sudden pain.

Sugawara leans closer. One of his hands braces against the board behind your head, and the other one comes up to cradle your face. His long fingers hook under your chin and press, forcing you to tilt your head up and meet his gaze. His thumb brushes against your lip, and you can’t deny how the sensation makes your body feel like jelly.

Every rational thought in your mind is screaming at you to run, to leave, to get away from him and go back to your husband, but God, it’s been so long since you’ve felt like this. It’s been so long since someone’s made your heart race and your breaths quicken, since someone’s made you blush like a schoolgirl over a simple touch.

“What was that you said?” he asks, his voice dripping with honey. “You don’t know what I’m talking about?”

You swallow and bite the inside of your cheek. The pain does nothing to clear the fog inside your mind. “I-I don’t, I-”

“You do,” he interrupts, his thumb still toying with your lip. “You’re so fucking obvious. I bet you’re wet already, aren’t you?”

“Mr. Sugawara!” His lewd words make you gasp, but more than anything, you hate the fact that he’s right. Your body has a mind of its own, and it wants nothing more than to wrap your lips around his thumb and pull him closer. It wants to feel his arms wrapped around you, feel his body towering over you.

But you can’t. As much as you want to, you can’t, because you have a husband at home who’s waiting for you. Sure, he isn’t home right now, because he’s putting in extra hours at the office. And sure, he hasn’t touched you or made you feel desired in weeks. Hell, you haven’t had a genuine conversation in weeks. But he’s still your husband! You try and remind yourself of that. You roll the thought around in your head, hoping that it’ll push your thoughts of Sugawara away.

But the young teacher is persistent, and there’s a glimmer in his eye that makes your chest tighten. “Call me Koushi, princess.”

“Don’t call me princess –”

“What, you’re going to pretend that it didn’t make you wetter? Going to pretend that you aren’t clenching your thighs together right now?” He leans in even closer, so that his breath brushes against your ear as he whispers. “Your body doesn’t lie, baby.”

A whine slips past your lips at his words, and then you gasp, mortified with yourself. But the grin that covers his face makes your transgression worth it, because God, he’s handsome. His hand squeezes your chin even tighter, and then trails down to your neck. Your breath catches in your chest. You’re hyperaware of his every movement, of his fingers trailing across your skin, his touch feather-light. It leaves you aching for more.

You instinctively whine again, and he lets out a noise of surprised delight. “Whining like this, and you’re still denying that you want me? What’s got you so embarrassed?”

“I have a husband,” you hiss – or, at least, you try to hiss. It comes out more like a whimper than anything else.

Sugawara looks at you for a beat – and then throws his head back and laughs. It catches you off guard, and you furrow your brow. “Why the fuck are you laughing?”

He collects himself, but his eyes are still gleaming when he looks back at you. “Sure, you have a husband. But that doesn’t stop you from thinking about me, does it? Tell me, when’s the last time that your husband took care of you? When’s the last time that he touched you, or fucked you, or made you feel good?”

“Mr. Sugawara, this is inappropriate–”

“Stop lying to yourself.” His voice suddenly drops, his stare forceful and deadly serious. “Say the word, and I’ll go. We can pretend this never happened. But anyone with eyes can tell that you’re unsatisfied.”

“I…I don’t…” Your thoughts feel like a wave, building higher and higher. They bounce around your head, reverberating against your skull, so loud that you can’t even think.

“Why are you settling?”

“Mr. Sugawara, please, I–”

“Why are you settling, when you know you want more?”

The wave crests.

You don’t know who moves first, but somehow, your fingers are tangled in his hair, and his lips are slotted against yours. It’s not soft, or sweet – it’s a mess of teeth and tongues and feverish breaths. His hands are everywhere. They trail over your skin, explore the curves of your chest and your stomach, grip tightly at your waist to pull you closer.

“Mr. Sugawara,” you pant against his lips. Your lungs scream for oxygen, but you can’t bear to drag yourself away from him for even a second. He kisses so well. It may be rushed, and messy, but there’s so much hunger behind his actions that it makes your head spin. It’s like his lips are a live wire, and every second that they touch yours, they send a thousand volts of electricity arcing through your body.

“Koushi,” he breathes. “Call me Koushi, please.” You nod, and then hurriedly undo the buttons of his shirt, popping a few off in the process. Neither of you care. His hands finally dip beneath the hem of your dress, and he wastes no time in unceremoniously tugging it off your body.

Your hands instinctively go to cover yourself. Age and childbirth have changed your body, and you know that Mr. Sugawara – no, Koushi – is probably used to beautiful young women. You still don’t understand why his eye landed on you. He surely has dozens of girls his age fawning over him, with flat stomachs and perky tits. Why you?

He grips your wrists and pries your hands away from your body. “Don’t do that,” he says, so gentle in contrast to the fire from just moments ago. “Don’t cover yourself up. You’re beautiful.”

Oh.

You can’t remember the last time that someone called you beautiful. You can’t remember the last time that you felt beautiful.

But right now, with Koushi staring at you, eyes blown out with lust… you feel it.

He sinks onto his knees, lips already pressing little kisses against your hips and upper thighs. You try and protest – really, Koushi, you don’t have to – but he shushes you instantly. He hooks one of your thighs over his shoulder and dives in without hesitation. Even through the fabric of your panties, you’re in fucking heaven. His tongue laves against your clit, focusing so much attention onto the swollen bead that you can’t help but let out a moan.

You slap your hand over your mouth to silence yourself. You’re in an elementary school, for God’s sake. The bake sale is at the other side of the large building, but you’re terrified of someone walking past and catching you. Guilt swirls around your heart, but it’s quick to dissipate when Koushi tugs your panties off and throws them over his shoulder. He buries himself into your cunt again, and it’s even better without the barrier. The coil in your stomach is tightening embarrassingly fast, but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to care. His tongue laps at your folds, slurping lewdly.

The pleasure is overwhelming. Your body moves of its own accord. Your hips grind against Koushi’s face, and he moans right into your cunt. His lips move up to your clit again, alternating between licking and sucking. You’re so focused on his mouth that you barely notice his fingers, so long and pretty, collecting your wetness.

You do notice when he fucks two of those pretty fingers into you. He immediately starts scissoring his fingers to stretch you out, before hooking them against that spot inside of you that makes your head spin. Your entire body is shaking with euphoria, so much that you can’t handle it.

“Close,” you cry out, trying to keep yourself upright. “Close, close, please, don’t stop!”

He moans into you again when you tug at his hair. It’s the push that you need to finally fall over the edge. You bite into your palm to keep from screaming as you gush all over him, chest heaving and eyes tearing up.

He keeps curling his fingers, keeps lapping at your clit, until you tug on his hair and cry that the overstimulation is too much. As he lets your leg down and stands up, he makes a show of licking your cum off his fingers, slurping on them loudly. It would make you embarrassed, but you’re too focused on his other hand as it dips down to his belt. The muscles of his stomach flex as he undoes the buckle. You take the opportunity to rake your eyes over his toned torso. He seems so slender when he’s dressed, but his shoulders are surprisingly broad.

He looks up at you with a little smirk. “Caught you staring,” he teases. You blush as he pulls his pants and boxers down in one go, freeing his cock. It’s already hard, and so pretty, just like him. His tip is red and dripping with precum. You want so badly to get a taste, but Koushi has other plans. He spins you by your shoulders, and then presses at the small of your back to make you lay across his desk.

You groan when you feel him slap his cock against your ass a few times, before running it through your folds to collect your wetness. “Please,” you gasp. “No teasing, please.”

“Just came, and you’re already needy?” he chuckles. “That husband of yours must really not be satisfying you.”

You’re spared from having to think of a retort by him sinking into you. A cry leaves your lips, but it’s too good for you to even care about the sound. He feels like heaven as he sinks into you. His cock stretches you out deliciously.

You’re already feeling delirious as he starts to shallowly thrust and work his way in. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you. “So – fuck…”

You can’t do anything but moan and scratch at the table as he starts to fuck into you in earnest. His cock is perfectly curved to hit your spot every time, and soon you’re reduced to a mess underneath him. His balls slap against your ass with every thrust. It hurts, it’s all too much, but it’s so fucking good. You don’t think you’ve ever felt pleasure like this – mind numbing and all consuming, so powerful that it makes your eyes roll back.

“Fuck,” he groans again, bending down so that he can loom over you and leave little bites all over your back and shoulders. “Not gonna last if you keep squeezing me like that, shit!”

“Faster, please,” you beg, and he obliges. He sets an absolutely brutal pace, somehow managing to fuck you hard, fast, and at the perfect angle all at once. Moans and cries spill freely out of your open mouth. When he reaches forward to toy with your clit, it’s all too much, and it sends you over the edge again. Your body practically spasms as he fucks you through your second orgasm. He shows you no mercy, gives you no time to come down. You don’t know if you’re coming again, or if you just never stopped. Your mind is hazy with pleasure and overstimulation.

You’re a twitching mess by the time that he pulls out, but you still whine at the loss. You’re far too fucked out to turn around and look at him, but in the corner of your consciousness, you can hear him panting and stroking himself furiously. His moans are so beautiful. Within a few short seconds, he’s coming all over your ass, painting your pretty skin white with his seed.

You don’t know how long you’re laying there before he taps your cheek to get your attention. “C’mon now,” he says, a tired smile on his face. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We wouldn’t want your husband finding out, would we?”

[pandorafallz]

Exile AU | Hard adjustments

It was quite surreal, Jake found when he found himself be staring down at his human body that now lay dead. It dying from his wounds perhaps minutes after his consciousness had crossed over. It was now curled up, among the roots of the Tree of Souls with a traditional Na’vi burial. Wrapped and bound with plants, his death wound covered and an Atokirina delivered down beside it. Na’vi didn’t bury the bodies like humans did; no huge, complete cover of dirt or tombstone. Would the tree fair well with alien remains beside it?

Did humans rot differently from Na’vi or would the body be absorbed somehow?

Jake didn’t know.

Grace’s human body received a similar burial beside his little plot of roots and it had succumbed just a second after Grace had passed through the eye of Eywa according to Mo’at. If they had been too late, Grace or… perhaps himself, would be passed on rather than take a detour to their avatar body. Too close to his liking but he was grateful for their efforts.

It didn’t escape his notice that Grace’s grave was… more decorated with flowers than his own.  It wasn’t the lack of flowers that bothered him… but he knew why he had a…basic grave in grand comparison.

“You seem unsettled, Jakesully?”

Jake’s head turned to see Mo’at kneeling just a few feet away with careful yellow eyes. His ears flickered back though he nodded, returning his gaze back to the remains. “I never thought I’d be murdered by my own race…. Not out here, at least.” He was a marine, he had fought in wars but that was on earth. Death was a companion of those who took up the military mantle of any region. On Pandora… he had believed his death would be by alien hands or by an accident. Tsu’tey had certainly made his attempts.

He wouldn’t be surprised if he tried again now.

“There are a rare few who have such a second chance. To be reborn Na’vi.” Mo’at remarked calmly. “The Great Mother did not save you without reason, even with our prayers.”

“I will fulfil that reason. For her and for the Omatikaya” Jake promised because…he still owed it to the Omatikaya at the very least. They had been saved and for that, he had tremendous gratitude. “Out of growing worry and concern, I do not wish to accidentally poison the tree… but human remains can be volatile in the decomposition process. Gasses will build…one English king exploded during his late funeral. There’s a lot of children around; I don’t think that’ll be something they should see.”

“The Great Mother had already started to colonize the remains and will appropriately divert its energy back into herself.” Mo’at assured, “Bones will remain by the end of the week, after which we will settle new soil to allow for the minerals to aid the remaining natural cycle. Some of people may take a small fragment of bone at that time if it’s agreed upon, to add to their songcord.”

Jake relaxed after a moment, allowing her words to soothe him. Good, at least he didn’t have to worry about that. He didn’t need more burden on his shoulders. Though, his mind did wander at her words. Neytiri, months ago had explained the songcord to him…even showed him hers to help him craft his.

His death seemed fitting. A bone from his body would be…fitting to add to that. He already had a bone in mind.

“Is that often remains are used?” Surely that had a…negative view of taking than allowing the body to fully return.

“Not often but it’s not judged upon either. Certainly, given the nature of this body, I don’t see there to be a judgment upon it if there are those who choose to use bones by consent. They are your remains, after all.” Mo’at paused, a moment as she realized what she had said. “That is not a sentence I thought I would speak before today.” She frowned lightly

Jake chuckled dryly before he gently fished out his small, palm-sized songcord. It wouldn’t be finished until his next death, so it’s size was nothing he was too worried about, even if most were longer. His first bead was a triangular blue to represent when he first met Neytiri; starting his life with the Omatikaya, and as of now, ended with his connection to his Ikran. It seemed fitting to update it. He already had a few in mind; a fire burned wooden bead for the fall of Hometree, a bad memory but important nonetheless; not only represented the loss of Hometree itself but…his place among the clan. His death to be marked but after that…he probably should expect a bead to represent his fate after he had fulfilled his side of the deal.

“Grace…” Jake started, not sure where he was going for a moment, “Grace doesn’t have a song cord. Now that she is…Na’vi, it seems appropriate she starts one for her new life.”

Mo’at’s head tilted away thoughtfully to where Grace was cuddled up, occupied with the children, letting them play and braid her hair. Someone had clearly persuaded her into a loin cloth as well in her recovery. “I will mention it to my daughter. She is…in need of a welcome distraction.”

“I would like to speak to her.” Jake spoke, “I know she’s been avoiding me…but there is a lot we need to  address for both of us to work together peacefully at the very least”

“You know why she does not.” Mo’at spoke widely, “She is not ready.”

“I know. But…we are a mated pair.” Jake sighed deeply, “I…just… if she wants to separate from me. As much as that idea hurts… it that even an option if she continues to hate me?”

Mo’at’s attention turned down a little, her tail shifting with concern. “Separation is…rare, Jakesully. Na’vi mate for life, in front of Eywa to bless the union. If the union is not fitting of either, both sides would terrible dreams by Eywa as a warning. To…separate would cause a…significant view upon them. To deny a union from Eywa…” Mo’at remained unsettled, “it’s very frowned upon, as you could say.”

“But… is it not cruel to force an innocent woman to be at the side of her mate for his wrong doings? To be seen as part of his actions?” Jake asked, “I don’t… Neytiri deserves so much more than me… for what I did.”

“But you love my daughter.”

“I do.” Jake was not a fool in that regard, they both knew he wouldn’t have mated with her otherwise, “but she has come to hate me, Mo’at.”

“She is angry, you have yet to atone and make amends. Forgiveness will take time, Jakesully. There may be regret if you follow through with the rituals.”

“Perhaps.” Jake inhaled deeply, “But… as long as there is an option if Neytiri so desires we separate then I will not fight her on that. If it makes her happy and able to…move on then it should be her choice. I want her to be happy, Mo’at.”

Mo’at didn’t look thrilled but she clearly sensed he was not going to move on the matter. Jake was just relieved that she didn’t deny the option. Only advised against it.

He was fine to regret it, he could live with it if it was truly what Neytiri wanted. He would not force her to stay spiritually bonded with him. It should be a choice.

“You speak of separation so easily, Jakesully. It worried me.”

Jake nodded, gently rubbing the blue bead. “Humans don’t mate for life. We—Humans evolved for reproduction more for survival of the species. High mortality rates, lots of babies… it was survival of the fittest back then to see which one survived long enough to start having kids of their own.” He hadn’t really read up on that but…it was the logical conclusion to why there was a difference. At least, in humans. Whether or not it was true, a whole other story.

“That sounds harsh.” Mo’at pondered.

“We had no Great Mother for guidance; no one to tell the humans how to look after their world and co-exist. Culturally, they tried to control the mating into a ritual called Marriage. A wedding to bind a couple under the eyes of their own deities.” Jake explained. “Some marry in the burning passions of young love, some marry for the sake of an unborn child, and some… end up separating for one reason or another. The concept is not new for me…but that may be due to my experiences of separation in the family.” He didn’t go into that. He didn’t want to.

“I see.” Mo’at rocked back then straightened up. “This is not a human world. It is Na’vi. Do not cut all your connections in the heat of deep emotion.”

 -

Dinner after the eclipse began a slow incline for everyone to rest and sleep for a new day; to start rebuilding. At least, Jake assumed. Tsu’tey made it clear he was not welcome to rest close to the center, so he began the walk through towards the outskirts, his eyes skimming the crowd of blue faces but none seemed open for him to rest close by.

His Ikran screeched quietly, happily coming to him as he hovered at the outer edge. Nudging his face with his jaw before Jake smiled softly, his hands coming to stroke his head.

“Hey, boy.” He greeted. Maybe he could see if Norm had a spare avatar hammock at the shack? He pulled his queue for Tsaheylu, his Ikran offering his out too but before he could make the bond, a voice broke the quiet.

“Where are you going?”

Jake suppressed a sigh before he turned to see Tsu’tey hovering with a few warriors. Jake eyed them warily—mostly the weapons but he knew all of them.

“Back to the link shack to sleep. It’s clear I’m not welcome to sleep among the Omatikaya.” Jake stated sharply, “I also need to talk to Norm and get an update on what’s happening at the human base. Maybe see what their plans are. I haven’t been able to talk to them properly since we escaped.” He finished off with his Tsaheylu, the Ikran shifting though Jake pushed most of the other sensory feelings away though he could feel that he had fed recently, but while tired he was wanting a good place to settle down.

“You will not go alone,” Tsu’tey spoke firmly. “I do not trust you, Jakesully. You will have a…escort, as you humans say while you’re not with the Omatikaya.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“You’re about to go off and talk to sky people, you tell me” Tsu’tey stated. “Ka’ani, you will go with him.”

Ka’ani was not the worst option, Jake though nodded though he felt it was over the top. He didn’t need a babysitter but only arguing would do little to help. So Jake bit his tongue on it and waited until Ka’ani’s Ikran landed before they took off through the trees.

 -

 Neytiri eyes the disappearing figures with some relief, settled close to her mother in a way she had not in years. Her warmth and comfort were merely a touch away if she so desired it. One night and a full day and she missed her father’s words. How she begged for them now, for comfort and wisdom.

Jake was now one of the People. Truly in body now. She had never seen his human body before and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it now that she had. It was him. Clearly. The same face somehow with the alien structures. It was…perhaps the eyebrows he had that were the most exact feature that mirrored between. Alien Blue eyes, instead of the familiar yellow. His nose was so much more prominent and stuck out from his face.

So small.

He was so small.

She understood humans were naturally smaller but… the scale only seemed to show when they were with a sky person. Small like children. Neytiri had seen Grace to know how they were so developed but yet…Jake’s human body was out of proportion. His legs so thin like they were starved while his arms were are more developed.

She had questions…but she didn’t know is she wanted the answers. It was…no longer relevant. The sky-person body was dead. The Jake she never got to meet in honesty. A Jake she never got to See.

“You should rest, not allow your mind to dwell.” Her mother’s voice was soft.

“I cannot. The troubles still plaguing me, Mother.” Neytiri sat up from her mat to her mother who was still working with grounding up herbs for more healing paste to soothe those with burns still. “I have no resolve.” She shouldn't have been surprised; of course her mother knew.

Her mother raised her eyes to her softly before the movement of Tsu’tey returned.

“Jakesully is returning to the metal box for rest. I had left Ka’ani to remain with him.” He spoke, coming to sit down. “What are we to do with him tomorrow? He has yet to prove his worth to remain with the Omatikaya.”

“Is he returning simply for sleep?” Mo’at questioned, gently scraping into a small pot then returned to making something for smoothing cuts, as Neytiri saw the other herbs awaiting from a recent forage.

“No. He plans to talk to sky people.”

“Then we shall wait for what news he has.” Mo’at spoke, “It is wise to be patient with him. Having his soul removed from one body to another will not be an easy transition. He may get…confused.”

“Confused?” Tsu’tey asked, “Should that be a concern?”

“His sense of self was always sky person, now he is Na’vi. He may…forget his bigger mass or even the difference in air. His mind will need to settle inside first.” Mo’at turned her attention past them to a quiet corner where Grace was curled up, fast asleep, and yet, had a frown upon her face. Her arms were wrapped with leaves and paste. “Graceaugustine is having such troubles herself. Withdrawn and keeps scratching up her arms until bleeding.”

“She is harming herself.” Tsu’tey was alarmed, his head turning to watch her with caution. Though Neytiri could empathise with his fears. They cared much for Grace and she was certainly thankful that Eywa had passed her back to them than keep her. It was disturbing to see her at ill peace in her body but Neytiri had done her part to try and cool such unpleasant sensations but only her mother could help the soul.

“Not with intent. She said it was called a ‘phantom sensation’ of an itch along her skin. Scratching does relieve the sensation. Yet for her there is no relief. Her mind is not settled within. It will take time. I plan to take her to Tsaheylu with the Tree of Souls for aid in the balance of the soul and body. That should make her settlement faster. ”

Tsu’tey nodded, “I will see that the rest of the clan will not disturb you two tomorrow. I plan to send the people who are able and willing to collect any surviving resources from Hometree. There underground caves should have surviving supplies of food and clothes that should be untouched. We can start setting mauri’s up for the people’s comfort until a new home.”

Neytiri leaned forwards, “What of the sky people? If they come back for the tree’s remains?”

“There have been no sightings of them since but I will be wary. We need the supplies but, if there are any remaining dead then we shall do our best to recover them to deliver to Eywa.”

“I can join you.” Neytiri felt the restlessness with the need of needing to do something to help her people.

“No,” Mo’at spoke, “I need you here to care for the people, you’re tsakarem. The people are hurt beyond the physical wounds. They will need your guidance to help their spirits heal.”

Neytiri huffed softly but she nodded. “Of course,” but she worried being here would lead to crossing paths with her mate. She was not ready for that. To face him and to once again feel all the weight he had put into their shoulders…. It was too overwhelming. More so when she looked upon the remains of her clan.

So many dead.

Needlessly.

Because of Sky People. Because of him.

Her mother rose to her feet and made her way to those still hurting. Neytiri watched her for the longest of a second, unable to help but marvel at her mother’s strength. Loss of home, her own mate, and still… stood so strong to keep the people going. How she bared it, Neytiri couldn’t know but she was glad to help her in any way she could.

She would need to learn fast and to be the next guiding hand for the Omatikaya. Neytiri sucked in a soft breath, trying to focus on that detail as she once again settled onto the mat. For the people.

 -

 Jake was glad to return to the familiar shack, dismounting from his Ikran though kept note as Ka’ani did as well, leading the way around to the back though he was glad to see Norm’s Avatar was in his hammock and covered with a net to keep away the bugs.

“The sky people appear to be mating,” Ka’ani remarked, looking a little disturbed before he straightened up from the window with a ting to his cheeks.

Jake snorted softly, his hand coming to knock against the glass but was glad to be spared the misfortune of witnessing Turdy and Norm’s…activities. It wasn’t the first time either but at least two of them were having some fun…or destressing in each other’s arms.

Inside, there were a few clatters as the couple realized they were no longer alone and hurried to collect themselves.

It took a few minutes before Norm came out, half-dressed and with a mask on.

“Jake, I’m…glad you’re alive but you have real shitting timing man. I was almost finished!” He sounded enraged, his face still flushed with sweat. “Hello, sorry you had to see that.” Norm added politely to Ka’ani in Na’vi.

Ka’ani looked a little perplexed but nodded without a word.

“Sorry, but I’m sleeping here for the night. Where are the spare hammocks and nets?”

“Big crate, around back. Have fun.” He directed.

“Can we make contact with Max?”

“No, the connections are down at the moment, we have to wait on their convenience. What he can't do live, he’ll send as video logs. I did tell them what happened when I did talk to Max a few hours ago. Quaritch is now running the place like it’s his own fiefdom. He knows he shot you and Grace but Max has spread the word that both of you were killed following the shooting. Everyone in the Avatar Program is on our side now because of that. Max has told only a few that you live inside your avatars now which has given some strength to keep to our cause.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“What is he saying?” Ka’ani asked before Jake realized that he didn’t understand English.

“I will explain later,” Jake spoke, but turned his attention back to Norm. “What intel was sent?”

“Nothing much on their battle plans. They’re….going to be sending in the Valkyrie and Dragon to drop off new bulldozers at Hometree in about…seven days’ time to start clearing it once the fires start to die out. It’ll take three weeks of prep to start a new mine.”

“Okay, We’ll inform the Omatikaya tomorrow,” Jake promised. It was good Intel and it gave him a good reason to be useful. They’d not be happy to hear about it but… they had to know what would happen.

“We can talk more in the morning as well, Goodnight.” Norm didn’t wait for much more before he turned and hurried back into the shack.

Jake rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics but led Ka’ani with him to the back where there were the spare boxes. Inside, he opened it up to see the fold-out hammocks tightly bound inside and pulled them out.

“What are those?” Ka’ani asked, watching as Jake set it down and began to unclasp the secure tags and began to unfold it.

“Hammock,” Jake answered, straightening out the metal supports and clipping the joins into place and setting the material out to either end point and setting up the last bar above to clip on the net. “You can use this. The net stops bugs from getting to you.” He added to the cautious look the Na’vi sent to the netting.

“It does not look comfortable,” Ka’ani set down his bow, his fingers coming to touch along the material with caution.

“But it’s functional.” Jake sighed, building up his own setup. “I will use it, you can choose it or find something else for you, Ka’ani but it’s the best option at this time of night.” He didn’t wait for any complaints as he slipped into his net and settled down. Also, he was glad that at this side, there was very little noise to travel out. He didn’t need to know if the two had carried on or not.

Tomorrow, it was a new start and a new day.

[lilxberry]

Hardly Burglar Material - Bilbo Baggins

Requested by: @donniethescienceguy​

Helloooooooo! Can I have a Bilbo x hobbit wife reader where after Thorin insults him (in the beginning when he arrives) she defends him and Thorins like: are you sure it’s the male Baggins we want?

I mean, I still did as what was requested but man, did I not know where tf this was going lmao

I followed quite a bit of the manuscript of the film, the only alteration is when reader confronts Thorin

Warnings: Nothing really. Asshole Thorin. Terrible writing lmao. 

Words: 1,796

Pairings: Bilbo Baggins x Reader (female reader) (wife!reader)

_______________

You hadn’t expected your quiet evening meal with your husband to be interrupted but when a dwarf, a big, burly, tattooed, balding, towering one at that knocks your door, there certainly isn’t much you can do.

After the dwarf, who introduced himself as Dwalin, had entered your home and devoured your husbands fish dinner, to which you offered Bilbo your own meal, more and more knocks sounded at the door, each one miffing your husband further and further until he had finally had enough.

“There’s nobody home!” he shouted as another sound came from the front door, arms holding up the abundance of weapons the two brothers’, Fíli and Kíli, loaded on to him.

You felt terrible, watching as your husband becomes frustrated, not knowing what to do other than spectate in concern.

He tossed the items down out of his arms as he stormed towards the door, shouting at whoever was on the other side. “Go away and bother somebody else! There are far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is.”

Bilbo closes in on the door. “I-I-If this is some plotheads idea of a joke,” he laughed in disbelief before grasping the door handle in his hand. “I can only say, it is in very poor taste.”

With that, he pulled the door open and in comes tumbling through the doorway a cluster of dwarves, all grumbling and whining at the other to get off of them. Bilbo and yourself, who stood a few steps behind, looked down at the mess of moving bodies on the floor before his feet, dumbfounded expressions on both of your faces.

Movement behind the pile up caught both yours and Bilbos’ attention, and once the tall figure bent down ever so slightly to reveal himself, your face twisted into that of utter confusion as your husband sighs in exasperation.

“Gandalf.”

_______________

Although you were concerned for your husband, you couldn’t help but find the whole situation quite amusing. You found some of the dwarven folk that had invaded your shared home to be quite a fun, entertaining bunch.

Of course, you were concerned about the possessions within your home, hoping that the dwarves leave your home relatively untouched and that your husband wouldn’t have some sort of mental breakdown.

Your uninvited guests had pillaged the pantry of its food. The race of dwarves certainly did have quite an appetite. Even Gandalf had nibbled on quite a bit of food.

The rowdiness of the dwarves had calmed slightly, if only for moment when they downed whatever drink they had. Even the ridiculous and frankly disgusting belching afterwards was calmer than their initial arrival.

Yet that was quickly replaced with plates, platers, knives, forks, and spoons were tossed from one dwarf to another as they sang a merry tune. Bilbo was quick with demanding caution and for things to be put down. Even you were slightly worried for your kitchen utensils.

The dwarves released hearty laughter when you and Bilbo peered into the kitchen and had seen that everything was clean and stacked, Gandalf chuckling along with them as both you and Bilbo simultaneously release sighs of relief.

Then, the atmosphere became tense as three, loud knocks sound at your front door for a final time that night.

The laughter died out instantly and Gandalf spoke quite ominously. “He’s here.”

_______________

You couldn’t really pinpoint what exactly was unsettled you so much when it came to the dark-haired dwarf who sat at the head of the table. Maybe his stature. Possibly his stoic expression.

Most likely the look behind his eyes.

Well, you certainly didn’t like him all that much whenever he addressed your husband.

Most of the conversation between the dwarves and Gandalf became muffled when reaching your ears, certainly seeing no point in listening in on their talk. The second your husbands voice rang out through the room though had piqued your interest and your attention was brought to the conversation.

They spoke of The Lonely Mountain, the dragon Smaug, how they were on a quest to reclaim their home. Gandalf had produced not only a map of some forts but a key, a key the dwarves seemed to become quite excited about.

You also happened to admire the young dwarfs’ courage. Ori.

Then, the topic of a burglar arrived.

“That’s why we need a burglar,” Ori spoke.

“Hmm, and a good one too. An expert I’d imagine.” Bilbo moves back from peering down at the map, holding on to his suspenders.

“And are you?”

Bilbo glances around to behind him before looking towards the dwarves once more. “Am I what?”

“He said he’s an expert!” Oin spoke cheerily. Of course, the dwarf with the horn to aid his hearing would say as such.

“Me? No, no, no, no, no,” your husband started, eyes darting to each dwarf, hoping his point would get across. “I’m not a burglar. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.”

You nodded your head in agreement. As much as you love your husband, he is quite the stickler for following rules.

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Mister Baggins,” Balin was next to speak. “He’s hardly burglar material.”

You supressed a chuckle as Bilbo, although relieved that someone agreed, looked the tiniest bit offended.

The group of dwarves began to chatter and raise in volume, no words could actually be comprehended by yourself, it all a jumble of noises. Then Gandalf raised out of the seat slightly, his voice booming over the racket the dwarves created.

“ENOUGH! IF I SAY BILBO BAGGINS IS A BURGLAR,” he lowered his voice with each following word. “Then a burglar he is.” Bilbo looked as if he wanted to protest but no words left his mouth.

“Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet,” he continued. “In fact, they can pass by unseen by most if they chose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of a Hobbit is all but unknown to them which gives us an distinct advantage.”

The whole discussion about your husband was unnerving for you. You disliked how your husband was talked of like a ploy in some silly game.

“This quest is no place for gentlefolk.” Thorins’ tone was as if the words left a vile taste in his mouth, clearly showing his disgust for your husband. “He probably wouldn’t last 5 miles away from his precious little home. Look at him, Gandalf! He isn’t made for such things, it’s as clear as day. His big feet and rounded belly would slow us down. Your little Hobbit would cry out for home within a day.”

Your blood boiled with each word he spoke, an anger rising in you which you desperately tried to keep down. Your nails dug into the palms of your hands and your jaw was clenched tightly shut, but enough was enough.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OF MY HUSBAND LIKE THAT?! NO LESS WHILST YOU ARE IN HIS HOME AND IN HIS PRESENCE!”

Your outburst caught the attention of every soul in the dining room around the table. Their eyes settled on your figure that stepped closer and closer to them up to the point where you stood glaring down at Thorin right beside his seat. Even Bilbos’ eyes were wide and looked almost ready to pop right out of their sockets.

“My husband may not be a fighter like you…you BRASS DWARVES! But he deserves no less respect. I will not stand for someone speaking down on my Bilbo in such a manner, even if they are some king,” you all but spat out.

Some of the dwarves looked offended that you spoke to their leader in such a way, others looked thoroughly shocked, surprised that a small thing as yourself had such a fire in you. Gandalf smirked as Bilbo looked like he genuinely feared for your safety. He had witnessed outbursts from you that scared him before, which were quite rare, you barely losing your temper, but for once, he was terrified of the consequences seeing as it wasn’t at him nor a fellow Hobbit.

But it was Thorins’ reaction that had you confused. He seemed…impressed?

Thorin turned towards Gandalf, a smirk of his own forming on his face. “Are you sure it was Mister Baggins you had wanted to join our quest?”

Gandalf chuckled and looked towards you and your husband, you now joined your side, who was silently scolding you with his eyes but nonetheless remaining the concerned, dotting husband. “I was certain on Mister Baggins being the 14th member of your company, but I would highly recommend you take a 15th as I believe Misses Baggins certainly has something of her own to bring to the quest.”

“They both have a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including themselves. You must trust me on this,” Gandalf finished.

Thorin looked at Gandalf and Gandalf at he for a moment, Thorin evidently mulling it over within his head before finally, he spoke. “Very well. We’ll do it your way. Give them the contract.”

Both yourself and Bilbo began to protest as Balin produced the document. He handed it over to Bilbo who unravelled the parchment and began to scan over the words, your eyes peering over his shoulder to read it for yourself.

As Bilbo and you busied yourselves with reading over the document, Thorin had leant over towards Gandalf to whisper within his ear. “I cannot guarantee their safety.”

“Understood,” Gandalf hummed in acknowledgement.

“You’ll be left responsible for their fate.”

“Agreed.”

Bilbo began to read aloud the text, brow furrowed out of concentration, your own face screwed up slightly, straining to peer at the words.

“Terms; cash on delivery up to but not exceeding 1 14th for total profit, if any. Seems fair, uhh-“

“Shouldn’t it be changed to 1 15th if I were to join?” you questioned aimlessly.

Bilbo nodded his head in agreement before continuing. “Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a government, thereof including but not limited to; lacerations. Evisceration?” He unfolds a piece further, reading before looking towards the group with a look of disbelief. “Incineration?!”

“Oh, aye. It’d melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye,” Bofur quipped with ease.

Many more ‘encouraging and reassuring’ words were spoken by Bofur, unnerving both yourself and Bilbo, though you hid it extremely well. The moment your husband passed out, was when Bofur seemed to finally relent.

“Oh dear.” You looked towards your husband laying on the floor unconscious with concern before turning towards the others with a worried expression.

Valar forbid you allow him to go with those dwarves and that conniving wizard alone.

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I mean, I don’t really have anything to say sooooo

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LOTR / The Hobbit taglist:

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