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buggybambi · 2 months ago

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Cannot wait to read your Carmen cowboy fanfic!!

save a horse, ride your cowboy | carmen berzatto (18+ content ahead) description; joining the meads ranch wasn’t always your plan. neither was falling for the handsome cowboy there. (wc: 2.45k)

cw: nsfw content (see warnings below) - reader's age is not said but is over 18, y/n used, afab!reader with she/her pronouns used

content warnings: slow burn (this is a long fanfic, sue me), i guess kinda public sex? i mean its in a bedroom and there’s no one hearing them but like shh, this fanfic took me like five months to write (not a joke) and if it sucks or some parts are unclear um blame it on that!, um i didnt write this as filthy as i wanted to but still; finger reader (x2), reader riding carmen (per the title), timeskip (a year prior to a year later), afab!reader, non-descript!reader but if there is something that i should change lmk, carmen eating reader out, hookup plot i guess?? friends to lovers sort of? idk really, unprotected sex (filthy) nav post | inbox | more of mae writes: the bear 🐻

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐆𝐎 . . .

From a distance, the Meads Ranch had seemed like a small glimpse of heaven on earth.

Cattle roamed the fields while the sun was beginning to rise, pickup trucks being driven off of the ranch and leaving trails of dirt behind them. Pieces of hay are scattered around everywhere you walk.

Carmen had first noticed you when you came out of the main Mitchell family lodge. The property had similar lodges, but that was the one used for most of the family, and the oldest lodge on the land.

You had been brought to the ranch as a chance from an old family friend. Almost like you’re second chance at life.

Gavin Mitchell, the oldest son, walked out of the house with you by his side. You two, laughing and talking. "I'm so glad you are joining us, and- oh! Carmen." Gavin walks over to Carmen, his arm resting on the cattle fence Carmen had spent the past few days repairing. "This is Y/N. You are going to train her on ranch life."

"Yes, sir." Carmen nods. You could tell by the tone in his voice he either wasn't happy about training you, or he'd done it so many times before it felt exhausting.

Gavin leaves you two alone. You smile, holding your hand out. "Hi, I'm-"

"Pick that pair of pliers up and get to work." He states.

Huh. Definetly taking the cold shoulder approach.

──

Much to your surprise, you and Carmen got over the cold approach. He’d become somewhat more open with you within the first month of your time on the ranch.

It wasn’t a fast thing. The opposite, actually. It took him a day to learn your name instead of saying ‘you’ when he needed something from you. It took him a week to start conversations with you, instead of you starting them with him.

Now a month later. He had been told by the other handlers on the ranch they were going out, and Carmen was expected to go with them. But not without-

“You wanna go to the bar with me?” He’d blurted out to you while you and him were working in one of the barns. It caught you off guard, so much so you took a minute to register it was him speaking to you and not his usual muttering to himself.

You turned and looked at him, letting out a soft chuckle. “Um.. you’re going to a bar?” You question first. Carmen hadn’t made it a secret he hated the bars in town. Too many tourists, people ruining good songs during karaoke.

“Well- the other handlers are but the dumbasses can’t be trusted to handle themselves, so.. I wanted to know if you wanted to come.” Carmen says, as he continued focusing on his work, almost using that as a distraction from having to make eye contact with you.

“Sure, I’ll come.” You had agreed. To Carmen’s pure surprise, you had said yes. And not a pity yes, or at least not an obvious one.

Needless to say, you being there made it actually enjoyable. Carmen wasn’t a drinker, and neither were you. It was one of the few things you two had in common, or that you knew you had in common.

You and him had found a somewhat secluded table in the bar, talking all night. He found himself asking questions about you, and he heard your laugh.

God. That laugh. He was sure if heaven had a sound attached to it, it would be that.

And eventually, you and him managed to wrangle all your guys into a truck with the ranch’s logo on the side, and managed to get yourselves back to the ranch.

Walking down a dirt path that lead to the handler house, it was just you and Carmen. His hands remained in the front pockets of his jeans. “I uh, had a really good time tonight.” He says. It was like admitting he liked being around you, without so many words.

“I did too, Carmen.” You say back as you walk onto the front porch with him right behind you. You stand there, making eye contact with him, both of you silent.

And that night, you and him almost kissed on the porch. *Almost.* Had it not been for one of the other handlers, Lee, throwing open the door to ask you two if you had any idea where his car keys were, you were sure you would have kissed him.

Another kiss for another time, you supposed.

──

And that kiss had come at another time. It was almost a week later when you and him found yourselves alone again in the barn. Somehow you and him always ended up in a barn.

You hadn’t been expecting it. Ever since the barn, it was like Carmen had made an effort to talk to you. Asking about your life before the ranch, telling you about his in return. He told you about his hopes, his family. And he’d make a point to stand close to you as he spoke to you.

Maybe he thought you didn’t notice the way he’d look at you out of the corner of your eye. A look that made it seem like he was asking himself if being this close to you was a good idea, and he’d decided it was.

It was silent for a pause before you decided to speak again. “You’re standing awfully close right now.” You comment. But your tone didn’t show you were upset by it, rather intrigued.

“Do you want me to back up?” He asks, his voice low. You turn to look at him, and that’s when you realize how close he actually is. His face close to yours.

You swallow before you speak. “No.” You answer, trying to keep your voice steady. You fail, but he wouldn’t tell you that.

He took a small step closer. A step that made a huge difference, because now he was looking at your lips. You decide to ask the question this time. “Do you want to kiss me?” You question.

He takes in a breath, before he decides to answer. “Yeah.” He says, as his eyes meet your again like he’s waiting for your approval. And you nod.

Go ahead. Your eyes were telling him. Kiss me.

And he did. His lips met yours in a sweep, his hands cupping your cheeks instantly. It’s soft at first, as he takes his time getting used to kissing you. And once he’s adjusted, he presses you up against the wall.

After you two had a makeout session like a couple of pathetic teenagers, he grabbed your hand and practically ran with you into the handler house. He had brought you into his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind you both.

From there, it was a switching pattern of throwing off clothes. His shirt, your shirt. His jeans, your jeans. Him laying you back as he takes your panties off and then gently placing kisses up your thigh. His eyes met yours as if silently asking for approval. You nod, desperate for him to just keep kissing up, and up, and-

He does. He kissed up your thigh, his lips finding on and sucking on your desperate clit. Your hands immediately fly to his head, fingers grasping at curls. The action elicits a guttural groan from Carmen, which practically vibrates through you as he eats you like a man starved.

His tongue is replaced by his fingers, thrusting in and out of you at a torture of a pace, his lips kissing and sucking on your glistening clit. His fingers are soaked, and he couldn’t care less. All he cares about is feeling you, not about the mess it makes.

Carmen was a simple man. He could get off on eating you out. The gasps and moans were enough to make him feel like he would just mess up his pants right then and there. And he almost does.

But can you blame him? You look so pretty like this. His nose bumping your clit as he watches his fingers slide in and out of you, the squelch noise it produces being more heavingly than it should be. Your soft pleas of “more” and “please” make him grin, and you can feel that cocky smile against your clit as he places a few feathery kisses on it.

He can feel your walls clenching around his fingers. Each time he removes them, he can feel you trying to keep them in, to surround them with yourself. He doesn’t mind though. The action only turns him on more.

“So pretty like this.” You can barely hear him mumble. You aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or your pussy. “Such a good girl f’me.”

And by the time you’re actually cumming on his fingers, he’s grinning like the cat from Alice in Wonderland. He watches as you fall apart on his fingers, and he has to resist the urge to lick your climax off of his hands.

He has to take his time with you.

“You did so good, baby.” He says, the pet name slipping out before he can stop it. You’re not complaining though. He presses kisses all over your face. On your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw as he praises you. “Did so good.”

Yeah. No way to ignore what was clearly happening between you both.

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘 . . .

The golden lights hitting your face from the small cabin you and the other handlers lived in. Your room was at the end of a hallway, and you could hear the chaos of the other handlers starting in the kitchen below your room.

A small groan comes from beside you as you go to pull yourself out of bed. Carmen’s arms hug your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Do we really have to get up now?” Carmen may have been the ranches best handler, but that didn’t mean he was happy about the early hours.

“Afraid so, cowboy.” You turn, facing him. His arms stay planted where they are around your waist as he buries his face into your neck. He smells like cedarwood and apple, his aftershave smell still lingering as you place a few light kisses on his cheek.

“Mm. Call me cowboy again, shit’s sexy.” He requests as he places feathery kisses on your collarbone. You let out a soft laugh as his beard stubble scratches your cheek.

“You just don’t wanna go down there so they can celebrate your five years here.” You point out in a whispered voice as your hand scratches as his scalp, fingers running through morning curls.

“Makes me feel old.” He replies, his voice gruff as he climbs on top of you, placing kisses up your collarbone and on your neck as his arms wrap around your waist, arms wrapped around you. “Would rather celebrate with you instead.”

You weren’t complaining to that idea. You let him slide your pajama shorts down your legs, throwing them off some place. Lucky for him, you “forgot” your panties the night before.

Unlucky for him, cause he had a habit of tossing them aside and then keeping them.

He kissed at your neck as his hand teased you, fingers lightly trailing up your thigh. Getting closer to where you so badly wanted him- and he could tell. He could feel how soaked you were. Normally, he’d take his time. Tease you about it. But that idea was pushed out of his mind when he was desperate to feel you fall apart on his fingers.

He gently coaxed one finger past your folds. He could hear the strangled gasp that came out of you when he finally inserted a digit into you, and he fucking loved it. He would listen to that sound over and over again if he could.

He let his finger thrust in and out of you, letting you enjoy the feeling before he added a second. You were practically a goner by the point he’d inserted his first finger, but with the second? Oh, you were practically a mess.

And then his thumb rubbed soft circles on your clit, with him whispering praises in your ear? For sure, you were a goner.

He had to cover your mouth with his hand as you reached your climax. The other handlers were still downstairs, and he didn’t need them hearing you. Your moans, your failed attempts to beg for more were his to hear. Not someone else’s.

He pressed kisses to your jaw as you caught your breath. His rule of never properly, in his words, fucking you before you had at least one orgasm was proving to be very beneficial for you.

He lets you recover as he kisses you. Lets you catch your breath before he’s subtly pulling you on top of him as his tongue slides into your mouth with such ease.

“This is your big day. Pretty sure we should be celebrating you.” You murmur between kisses. He grins as you straddle him.

They have a saying in a world like yours. Save a horse. Ride a cowboy.

So, you do! You pull away from his lips as you place kisses down his jaw, whilst your free hand reaches and lowers his boxers. Ever so subtly lowering yourself onto him.

Carmen wasn’t an idiot. He could tell what you had been doing, but he wasn’t gonna stop you. Not when you looked too damn good riding him.

You kept your movements steady, at a pace you knew he’d speed up soon. His hands remained on your hips as he watched you. When your lips return to his neck, he feels like a mess. His mind is fuzzy, he can’t form a single thought besides the word “more”.

Now he was the one moaning under you. You knew how to drive him crazy, and you were doing it.

And how could he not? You took him so well. He stretched you out perfectly, hit the right spots. If he could stay buried inside of you all day, he probably would.

As soon as his hands began grasping your hips and the skin there, you knew to speed up, and you complied. He threw his head back, holding you so tight you knew he’d leave a bruise.

And by the time he spills inside of you, you’re sure he has. You don’t take long to follow right after him.

“Okay—” He says breathlessly after that potentially earth shattering climax. “Next time we do that, I am totally having you wear my hat.”

That elicits a giggle out of both of you.

#maeberzatto #mae writes!#mae writes: the bear #mae's multiverses ♡#carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fx #carmen berzatto x you #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x female reader #carmy berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto fanfic

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neteyamm · 2 years ago

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untitled bc yeah

pairing jake sully x na’vi!reader (female coded)

warning(s) nsfw, minors dni, oral, kinda na’vi heat?

author note this was literally going to be in a fanfic i was writing, but then, i like scrapped it and wrote this in thirty minutes. lol, is kitty offensive? jake’s great great great grandparents x20 was gen z. think on that. this is actually like crack? like crack wit smut? idk. enjoy i guess. jake’s pussy whipped, sooo. lol accidental third person? well, its third person limited, bc it’s jake pov? that happened accidentally tho. soz <33 unedited … yeah <33 my descriptions are actually shit and i think i gave jake adhd? lowercase very much not intended. i spent too much words on fucking silk. that had no reason being there :) it was fun tho. somehow past tense but not? idk not edited so yeah. enjoy again ig.

that small area, filled with overgrown trees, bushes and plants, lush greens and illuminating purples, had already been claimed before jake stumbled into it. it was hard to find, and it had been a mistake on his part in finding it, he’d took a tumble from the tall trees, fell through some pretty hard branches, and landed before the slender covered entrance. at first, jake thought he was looking at cloth, that somehow the na’vi had created silk fabric. he’d touch it, shocked and slightly excited, only to feel as if he’d touched a spiderweb. the silk, he’d realized, was natural — made from a bug larvae, most likely. jake had pushed the silk aside to the reveal small area. the ground was the most softest marsh he’d ever stepped on, nearly tickling his feet when he dragged them. the plants, the bushes, the trees, everything was alive and glowing, the ground tracking his footprints, it was nothing short of amazing.

he’d turned to leave, wondering if neytiri had ever been here, when his ears perks up. the tall tale sound of a hiss. it sounds like bees in someone’s throat, and escapes in a bone-chilling sound that even now, as a true na’vi and could very much make the sound himself, leaves him nervous and admittedly a little weak in the knees. he could remember when meeting the clans with tsu’tey and neytiri, asking them to fight the humans, he would steel himself when hearing it. there were so many different sounding hisses, and yet jake thinks his clan took the cake for the scariest ones.

he shakes his head. the point being, the sound makes his hairs stand and his tail to swish nervously. he turns, looking up to see a na’vi woman, an omaticayan, squatting in one of the lower branches covered in illuminated moss. she holds a dagger carved from their newest hometree, after many months of searching, tsu’tey found one suitable for their many people. she hisses again, defensive, and he smells it then. it’s like a light switch goes off in his mind. the reason he hadn’t seen neytiri, or any of the unmated women, it was the change of the tide — they called it — and when that happens, unmated na’vi women go into heat.

it’s also the reason he hadn’t seen tsu’tey all day. it makes sense now, he honestly thought they were avoiding him. he wants to slap himself now. how disrespectful of him to stumble into a woman’s marked territory, during her heat no less. he holds his hands up and walks backward, barely withholding a flinch when she hisses again.

“uh, sorry, ma’am. so sorry, didn’t mean to … what’s the word? hm, uh, embark? no, definitely not the word. uh. sorry to invade your territory?” he backs away slowly, least he accidentally starts a chase he did not want. “i’m just gonna—”

“are you mated, toruk makto?” compared to her hiss, her voice is quiet nice, hm, like honey he thinks, smooth sounding, sweet tasting, almost like her scent—he snaps out of it. her words correlate in his mind.

he honestly forgot he was the toruk makto for a moment. the war had been months ago, and despite the fact that many people won’t let him forget that he was the sixth, it was easy to forget when people got over the awe. got over the awe and saw that he was really just a clumsy guy, with a too big heart, a little too smart mouthed, and great enough warrior. he takes pride in being the head warrior, just beneath tsu’tey.

“no…?”

“was that a question, toruk makto?”

“no?” he looks around for a moment, before back to the woman. he noticed it then, she was actually quite beautiful. huh. her hair wasn’t braided, and from the slight waves, he assumed she’d just taken them down. oh, he abruptly looks away. she wore the customary loincloth, yet only a single beaded necklace, with tiny beads extending from it like dripping water, covered her nipples.

“do you want a mate?”

now that he thinks of it. he hadn’t really been looking for someone to mate with forever. once he realized neytiri was destined for tsu’tey, and they had some odd partnership going on between them—he got over that crush painstakingly slow. not to mention, tsu’tey could be scary, and jake didn’t want to mess up his position as the next olo’eyktan. no, no, jake wasn’t looking for anyone, despite the obvious looks he was receiving. he looked back to the woman, she was staring at him with clear eyes. wait. . . was she offering?

“what’s your name?” he questioned, dropping his hands when realized he still hand them up like a idiot.

“(name) te tshaka de mo’at’ite,” she says, confidently. he blinks. now, why has he heard that name before? oh, oh! the mystery woman! he remembers it clear as day now. the younger sister of the three sisters, the deceased one, the next tsahik one, and the mysterious one. that’s what, he couldn’t even remember the dead avatar driver’s name now, had said, anyway. the avatar driver had thought he was being funny, until grace practically kicked his ass and nearly cut him off.

jake couldn’t for the life of him remember seeing her, he could remember hearing her name being called, her voice talking, but she was never in sight. “neytiri’s sister?”

“yes, neytiri is my older sister by a single cycle,” she grits her teeth, a hand briefly pushing at her lower belly. “you did not answer my question, toruk makto. do you want a mate?”

“uh, are you sure this isn’t your heat talking?” jake couldn’t help but wonder. what if it was someone else that barged in, would she say the same?

“i have seen you—”

“you have?” jake raises a brow.

“i have watched you—”

“you have?” jake raises both brows.

“i have followed you—”

“you have?” jake couldn’t help the voice crack or raise in pitch. he never noticed anyone following him. oh man, this shouldn’t be as flattering as he’s taking it.

“i decided that i will have you,” she finishes, not an ounce concerned with just how odd she sounds. she is confident, jake will give her that, to outright tell someone that you will have them is ballsy.

“you will?”

“I will. I am glad it was you who stumbled upon my thicket. otherwise, i would have injuried them.”

well, that settles it. jake always liked a woman who could kill him, and well, (name) looks fierce and ready to kill him. besides, jake’s a simple man, someone willingly to be with him? forever? hah, if his old buddies from earth could see him now. they were always saying jake would never find a girl or guy, he wasn’t the best at flirting.

“well, here i am, have me?” he understands his old buddies, now. he cringes, by eywa, did i really say that?

(name) gives a rich laugh, it causes a shiver to run down his spine, and he only has half a second to catch the lunging woman. they tumble through the soft marsh, nearly sinking into it as she settles quite contently on his lap. she brings her quene around, and jake does the same, watching in morbid fascination as the tendrils coil and link around the other.

it only takes a second for their minds to connect, emotions bursting full and richly around their interlinked minds. there’s no love there, not yet at least, but its overwhelming, heartwarming and thrilling all at once. he could feel her brushing against his mind, squeezing around his brain, settling into the missing blanks, melting into the crevices and nooks. it feels good, it feels right, and he’s suddenly heavily aware of the stabbing pain in her lower belly. amazing how she kept a clear mind with that amount of pain, geez.

he wonders, briefly, if this would have felt more special if they took things slow. but then, he’s struck by unbridled lust, and forgets his wonderings. well, it’s been years since he’s last did anything, really, and her scent was starting to coat the air thickly.

“so,” jake starts awkwardly. does this count as a one night stand, we just met, and now we’re about— his thoughts blank when she grabs his hands, pressing them against her tits. the beads dig into his skin for a moment, but they’re easily removed, and suddenly it’s skin on skin contact. he squeezes, instinctively really, and draws out a breathy whimper from (name). his eyes widens briefly, and he feels like inexperienced teenage boy again with his fast he hardens.

she must have felt him, there’s no way she hadn’t, her hips move upwards slightly, then back down. it’s his turn to whimper at the friction of the cloth and the pressure of her weight on him, practically suffocating his cock. he decides, last minute, to give her perky nipples a little twist and he savors her sounds. she really did sound good, like — his eyes caught the silk curtain swaying gently — like honey dripping onto silk.

her scent rolls around his nose, strong, thick, and heady. he rolls them over without a second thought, hands sliding down to her loincloth. his eyes meet her’s, and he raises a brow. “may i?”

she twists her hips a little, impatience nudges against his mind, “please,” she purrs, litreally, it starts in her chest and settles in her throat. like a cat. like a kitty. oh, he shudders.

he makes easy work to untie the strings, the cloth falling away aimlessly, and that is all it takes for her arousal to truly be smelt. he gulps, swallows harshly, gulps again. shit, is it hot? why does it feel like his control is breaking? her inner thighs were glistening and as she happily, and proudly spreads her legs, he couldn’t help the groan of utter pain. his cock throb painfully, his chest ache painfully, this has to be a crime. he’d never once in his life seen a cunt so pretty.

his mouth waters, and he swallows again, least he starts drooling everywhere. he knows that wouldn’t be an appetizing sight. he shakes his head, back on track. he clenches his fingers, before scooting himself back, settling on his belly, and eye level with this beautiful, beautiful cunt.

“pretty,” he unconsciously mutters, mesmerized. her pink bud peeking out between her puffy lips, his eyes catching sight of tiny droplets sliding down and disappearing into the marsh below them. “god, such a pretty pussy.” it felt wrong to call upon eywa, what if she heard? what if she saw? he doesn’t think the mother goddess needs to see this.

“hurry, jake,” she whines above him, twisting her hips again, and his eyes tracks the movements. she’s practically waving her cunt in his face. he groans.

“patience, kitty,” he mutters, debating if he should eat or finger, hm. shit, he really wants to taste her. “you want me to touch you?”

“yes, please,” she whispers, sounding shy all of a sudden. he chuckles at that, barely dodging the thump from her tail against his face.

jake uses his index and thumb to spread her puffy lips, his eyes flutter, his breathing is caught, he could die right here, he could die a happy man right here, right now. jake can’t even call it glistening anymore, she’s practically a river, so wet, dripping and dripping, her pretty hole clenching around nothing.

he leans forward, flattening his tongue, and giving her a generous swipe. her taste melts on his tongue, heady and sweet all at once, he swallows like a man starved and does it again. his tongue nudging against her hole, catching the juices that exit. “ooh, fuck, you taste so good, babygirl,” he groans. he really feels like praying.

“j-jake,” her whimpers and mewls were like music to his ears, and the moment she grips his hair, his hips jerk and he has no choice but to eat her like a man straved. he slurps as much of her juices as he could, before turning his attention to her neglected bud, swirling around the engorged bud slowly, eyes fluttering open to watch the way her body responded.

he swirls on the left side, her belly clenches. he swirls on the right side, her thighs shudder against his head, a true moan ripped from her throat. “so pretty, you moan so prettily,” he grins against her cunt and attacks that spot with vengence.

he uses his free hand to wrap around her thigh, prying it open as they begin to close around his head. she shudders above him, fingers tightening around his hair, pretty sounds trembling from her lips. he swirls and slurps, sucks and nips, and he could only feel himself growing harder by the second. “j-jake—haah!—m’gonna cum!” she warns, spreading her legs a little wider and practically shoving her cunt into his face, and he happily takes advantage of it.

he wraps his arms underneath her thighs, hands settling on her hips in soft grip, locking her in place as he brings her closer and closer to her release. she’s not quiet anymore, sounds ringing above them, her mind is blissful against his — thinking of nothing but the strings of pleasure. it only takes a well placed swipe of his tongue, a tiny nip of his fangs and—

“j-jake—m’cumming!” she cums with a sequel, thighs nearly locking around his head, but he grabs them in time. he’d seen what a na’vi women’s thighs could do to a head. he happily licks up the steady trail of white leaking from her hole, listening to her soft whimpers and satisfied purrs.

“good, kitty?” he asks, propping up on his elbows to get a good look at her. he nearly starts kicking his feet at the satisfied expression on her beautiful face.

“mhm, very good, jake,” she grins, fangs on display, and goddamnit, he’s going to burst from that image alone.

“you want some more, pretty girl?”

her cheeks bloom like anemones, eyes casting downwards, and her grin turning shy. she’s so fucking cute, it hurts, really. “i need your cock, jake.”

“oh?” he raised a brow, condescendingly, “you need it?” she nods, eagerly. “if you didn’t need it, babygirl, would you want it?”

“yes,” she shudders, “please, jake.”

“hm, let me see,” he mutters, dragging himself onto his hunches. he chuckles when she props up on her elbows eagerly, watching his fingers untie his loincloth with lustful eyes. he sighs when the cool air hits his cock, the tip an angered magenta and leaking clear pre-cum. air sucks through his teeth when she reaches forward, grabbing his cock in a tight grasp. “careful, kitty, don’t hold too tight for me, yeah?”

she leans down, mouth dropping open, and he stops her, index underneath her chin. “later, pretty girl,” he promises.

her lips pout, slick from spit and brusied from biting, “but, you—”

he gives a quiet tut, “i’ll train your pretty throat for me, later. right now,” he grabs her waist, forcing her on to her back. she gives a startled look, pretty eyes wide, and mouth popping open. “i need to fuck your fat cunt, until the only thing you remember is my name, hm?”

she shudders, hands reaching for his. “please,” she begs prettily.

ugh, he hopes na’vi can’t have heart attacks.

#avatar smut #avatar way of water #jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake smut #jake sully smut #babygirl only sounds right from jake’s mouth #avatar 2009 #he’s literally it #.masterlist.

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grcetxt · 9 months ago

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Fuck it we ball fanfic time. Gn reader x lars pinfield WOO

Okay WOO lmk if this is shit or ooc or anything, but im pretty happy with how this went :D its a little rushed, might redo it in the future idk. Also i made Y/N bit too much like me (northern) so watch out for that american readers SORRYYY. anwyays enjoy!

I am smart.

No don't laugh, I am, genuinely I am.

Maybe not in the way that others deem important, maybe not in the traditional sense, but I am bright.

Pinfield doesn't think so, the prick.

Every day I come into work, all smiling and welcoming, and what do I get in return? A roll of the eyes if I'm lucky.

Dickhead.

But I don't let him get to me, I love my job. My boss is chill, I love hanging out with Lucky, and the Spenglers seem nice! It's a good gig, really.

I'm the "PR guy" for Ghost Corps. Every time they fuck up and destroy a building or whatever I'm the one who covers it up. I'm a real smooth talker, 'gift of the gab' my mum used to call it.

The team needs me, I know that, they know that. Im crucial to the whole operation, the sole reason why that whiny mayor dude hasnt shut them down.

I'm the one who goes to press interviews, who goes on the radio or on TV. I'm the social media manager, I make videos, and post tweets, fuck I've even started a Ghostbusters youtube account! I deserve a raise honestly. #justiceforY/NthePRguy

I get on with everyone at work except for Pinfield, and I genuinely dont know why.

I've tried getting him to feature in videos, or explain the science of stuff to me so I can actually seem like I know what I'm talking about- but he just brushes me off.

Gary tries to reassure me about this on a daily basis. "Its nothing to do with you Y/N" he smiled one day, putting a hand on my shoulder and guiding me away from the busy scientist. "He doesnt really talk to anyone, he gets really passionate about his work"

"I get that, but there's no need for him to be a dick to me, he's got me thinking all kinds of shit honestly!" I replied, exhasperated "I've never done nowt to him"

Suddenly, Pinfield raised his head from his work, scrunching his eyebrows together. "thats a double negative" he commented, looking at me as if I was stupid. Great, It's the most he's ever spoken to me and its a fucking insult- atleast I think it is.

"you what?" I ask, making my way over to him despite Garys protests. I fold my arms, looking as menacing as i can (which ive been told isn't very menacing at all)

"I said its a double negative, if you've never done nothing then you must've done something" before I can reply, he adds onto the end "which you haven't, by the way. I dont know why you think that. I treat you the same as anyone else"

I can't explain why his answer bothers me so much, but it does. Why does he view me in the same way he views the others? That's hardly fair. I'm always welcoming to him, I make time out of my day to include him in things. I hate to admit it, but I genuinely admire him aswell. His love for all things paranormal, the way he gets so excited and proud when he gets to explain the science of ghost-catching to someone. It's oddly endearing.

I tell him as much (excpet for the stuff about him being endearing, he doenst need his ego inflated any more than it already is)

He looks confused, I've never seen him look like that- its weird. Arrogant? sure. Annoyed? when is he not bffr. Happy? Once or twice. But confused? Weird. This is the guy with all the answers, the smart one.

He thinks for a moment, before seemingly making a desision. He stands up with a small huff of exhasperation, and walks off.

As he goes past me, he grabs my arm, more gently than I thought he was capable of. Okay, i guess im coming too. Fun, roadtrip time.

He takes me out of the lab and down the corridor, into a relatively well lit small room.

"Well this is-" before i can speak properly, he cuts me off. Told you he was a prick.

"I dont understand you Y/N" he blurts out, looking at me, as if I'm some sort of specimin hes studying in the lab.

"Well good." I joke. I dont like the serious tone he's taking. Dont like how aware I am of his gaze. HATE the fact I can feel my cheeks burning. Gross. Pinfield is a dick, we've established this. Why the fuck am I BLUSHING because he's LOOKING at me? Bit embarassing, pull it together Y/LN.

He doenst like this though. He shakes his head, pacing around.

"No Y/N you dont get it. I understand everyone, sort of anyways. I've observed them, I can predict their reactions to things. I know what they're all like- but you're... I just dont understand! You're so happy and nice all the time, but you also get angry at stupid stuff, but never really properly angry? I cant make sense of it, genuinely. You've not done anything wrong, you can't do anything wrong. Thats frustrating too. It's like you're this perfect, beautiful person, and I've been trying to see flaws but I cant-" He rambles, speaking like hes just letting out one stream of constant thoughts. He seems stressed, poor guy.

I interupt him, grabbing his arm. "Hey, c'mon Pinfi- I- Lars. C'mon Lars. I'm not worth the stress mate" I try and reassure him, but that just agitates him more.

"See! That's just it! I've been horrible to you, I admit it. But you've kept trying with me! When I hurt my hand you were the one who bandaged it and put it in a sling"

(i had found him almost blacked out from the pain on the lab floor, even the memory of it sent a shiver down my spine)

"you were the only one that looked for me after we all nearly died fighting Garraka"

("Pinfield? Pinfield!? Oh my god, there you are! Thank fuck you're alright!" Okay maybe this tiny non-crush had been going on longer than i thought... christ)

"I dont like the thought of you hurt..." i muttered, embarrased. this definitely wasnt how i was expecting this conversation to go, fuck my life I was crushing on a nerdy scientist who defintely didn't like me back.

He stopped his pacing and walked over to me until the gap between us was non existant. He slowly, hesitantly, lifted his hand until he cupped my cheek.

"I don't like the thought of you upset because of me" he muttered, his voice low.

My heart completely stopped, my breath caught in my throat, was this happening? how was this happening? i swear this guy was like my mortal enemy not even 5 minutes ago. so many revelations were bieng made today...

I decided to be bold, why not? fuck it, i've got nothing to loose at this point.

I leaned in so our noses just grazed eachother, looking at him, really genuinely looking at him. his soft blue eyes that seemed to peer into my soul. Not pierce through it, like some weird blue eyed fuckers i knew, but looked. gently, tenderly, as if he was looking at everything i ever had been, or would be. like i was something beautiful, something to be treaured.

It made me want to sob at the thought. god, how disgustingly sweet.

"make up for it then" i whispered, the tension so thick i could cut it with a knife.

I'd planned on being the one to make the forst move, but apparently, that was all that Lars needed.

He kissed me. His soft lips pressed against mine, sotfly, tenderly, tentatively.

I could feel the anxiety radiating off of him, so i quickly reciprocated. More eagerly than i owuldve liked- but oh well.

I could feel his hand resting on my waist, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. It all felt so tender, so raw, not at all how i thought it would be.

I felt like a teenager again, and couldnt resist letting out a small giggle, making Lars pull away. He looked confused again, making me laugh once again.

"What?" he aksed, a sort of amused smile on his face.

"Nothing- sorry. Nothing at all. Just thinking of how fuming mums gonna be when i tell her ive got a posho for a boyfriend"

"I am NOT posh!"

"you are a littleee"

"I AM NO- wait- boyfriend?"

"oh shit didnt mean to say that bi-"

he cut me off with another kiss, this one much more confident.

It felt like a million fireworks were going off in my head, oh I could definetly get used to this feeling. This war, sweet, happy feeling. My senses were flooded with everything Lars. His taste, his smell, his touch.

I felt like I was learning to live again.

#AAAA #lars pinfield #james acaster #fanfic #ghostbusters frozen empire #lars pinfield x reader #gn reader #should prolly add more tags but its 2 am im tired #nightnight everyone #lmk what you think

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choccy-milky · 8 months ago

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Funny story: when I first found your art I was reluctant to read the fic, because I thought there is absolutely no way that one person can be this talented in two different art forms (drawing and writing). Boy was I wrong. Now Clora and Seb live in my heart and mind rent free. 🥹 Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. 😁

BAHAHA AWW THIS IS BOTH SO FUNNY AND NICE😭💖 like damn, whats her secret.....🤔🤔🤔 (its brainrot. the secret is brainrot. draw and write obsessively enough and for long enough and you're bound to get decent at it eventually BAHHAA) BUT THANK U and im glad u gave my fic a shot in the end 🥹im fr so lucky to have ppl that like both my art AND my fic it feels like im in a lil book club sometimes its so fun so THANK U ALL 💖💖

I WANNA DRAW THIS NOW but seb likes how soft/small she is, bc it makes her nice to hug and also reminds him of how delicate and feminine she is and how much he wants to protect her. and PHYSICALLY clora likes sebs freckles and his eyes (and also how toned and lean he is, which she'll only really admit to when shes drunk BAHHAA)

SURPRISIGNLY IVE NEVER READ ANY HARRY POTTER FANFICTION, not in hogwarts legacy OR the og harry potter. ive read all the books and when i did, ron x hermione was my main ship, and idk, i guess i never got into the fandom enough to want to find fanfics bc the books satisfied me on their relationship enough. but yea, ron/hermione is the only thing i really shipped, though before HL came out i DID consider/was about to go look for dramione fics since i was craving that good girl/bad boy dynamic and i knew that was a big thing with dramione (but then i ended up just making my own in the end LMAO)

@dokuroskull23 ASTARION NO QUESTION WHICH I SEE U AGREE WITH BASED ON UR PFP LOOL. I LOVE MY VAMPIRE TWINK AND I LOVE PRETTY BOYS (i still need to finish bg3 tho...i got to act 3 before stopping bc i wasnt happy with my character. and now that mods are out im gonna completely restart and make my tav even hotter LMFAO)🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

LMFAO "TITS ANON" as per whats on your government ID. (this is actually just clora now) but also THANK U GLAD U LIKED IT, MORE VARSTITTY JACKET + HOODIE SEB IS ON THE WAY, TRUST💖✍️✍️

#to the anons who asked to see seb in a maid outfit and also asked what seb would do if he saw clora in his shirt.....those are coming #LMAO idk when just know that they ARE bc i wanna draw something for them #ask #i wanna draw seb in a maid outfit and clora in a butler outfit LMAO #im gonna draw clora in cloricas outfit from rune factory 4...itll come full circle since thats the character i based cloras name off of

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nightpool · 2 months ago

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got any thoughts on when i win the world ends now that its over?

got distracted and lost my SECOND attempt at answering this ask bc the tumblr mobile app STILL doesn't save ask drafts. hate this stupid app.

anyway, really enjoyed the ending. wasn't as blown away by it as I was by, e.g. Fargo's ending but I definitely think an understated approach worked better for the thematics of the story. wish i had more time in Cely's world though. need a million words about toril and cely's idyllic domestic bliss. need a different million words about the secret underground wars the IPL gets up to.

on that note, it reminded me a lot of Consider Phlebas. Which isn't any surprise, given the subject matter. and Player of Games! Banks has his hands all over this fanfic, doesn't he. kind of surprised I never noticed the connection before, but this is exactly the kind of ending a Culture novel would have.

really sad we never really got to figure out what's going on in Red's head of his. maybe i should go back over the story with a fine-tooth comb and see if I can figure out what that means. but it does feel more realistic that way—sometimes there's just always a bigger fish. If I had one complaint, i guess its that the world felt a little small for the stakes we were supposedly playing in. like, it's realistic to the small circles of top level esports but feels a little weird for the amount of Geopolitical Weight that we're told hangs on pokebattling. but I guess that's intentional like, the world *should* feel hollow for the thematics to work. there's an argument to be made that the whole thing could have been set at Kanto regional finals or whatever and left open a larger world.... idk. I'm still really curious about Lachlan's demographics arguments.... does it just boil down to something mundane like "money & proximity to the imperial core brings talent and training"?

The story works best for me, I guess, as an argument against Narrativization. Everybody in the story has their own little Narratives, their own little storylines they're selling or ways to make sense of what the world means. Cely committed suicide because she didn't have a narrative, she found one, but it ended up dropping out from underneath her. Mean reversion. Eventually, for everybody in the story, reality intrudes. So it doesn't really matter whether Cely's powers sent Toril or not—it's not part of her narrative anymore. she's learned to move beyond it in order to live—just living day to day without having to Narrativize her life to the same exent. Or at least the story wants us to think so!

#when i win #when i win the world ends #sorry about how rambly this was. by the third time through i was just hitting the bullet points

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icycoldninja · 6 months ago

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Hey Icy, how are you, a request after a long time if it's open. It is for Dante, a fanfic. I want all the tooth rotting fluff, angst and swirls of emotions, from Dante proposing his long time fem!reader gf to their very intimate wedding under moonlight with DMC crew and Morrison walking the reader down the aisle, while Vergil officiates the wedding. Idk, but I think Vergil will agree for once. nero can be the best man and Trish can be the reader's maid of honour.

Thank you for listening

HEY HEY, I'M DOING GREAT! HERE YOU GO AND ENJOOOOY!

Moonlit wedding (Dante x Fem!Reader angst/fluff)

Dante stood on your doorstep, knees knocking together and mind a frenzy of panic, excitement, and fear. He'd promised a date a few days earlier, saying he was going to take you to a nice restaurant as a way to make up for lost time, since he'd been working really hard to pay off his debts lately. He was doing this because he wanted to have a clean slate when he proposed to you, which was the true reason why he wanted to take you out tonight.

While this sounded easy enough in his head, Dante found that gathering the courage to actually go through with these plans was very difficult. He was, to put it simply, very scared, for various reasons. He was afraid of rejection, afraid of what would come after marriage, and afraid that he'd fail to protect you, like his father Sparda failed to protect Eva.

Even though you two had been dating for a long time, Dante was still worried you'd say no. He had no way of knowing whether or not you really wanted marriage, since you'd never sat down and talked about it, and if you did reject him, then what? How could you continue? What if your relationship deteriorated because of this one little question? What if he lost you?

"C'mon, Dante," His mental voice said, surprising him with its existence since it rarely ever made an appearance. "When'd you get so indecisive? Just go on and ask her already."

So Dante took a chance and followed his gut, and he never regretted it.

Dante stood by the altar outside in a simple tuxedo, Nero at his side in similar clothes, a boutonnière in his suit pocket. Despite 6 whole months having passed since the proposal, Dante was still as terrified as the day he stood upon your doorstep, waiting to pick you up. Shaking slightly, Dante looked over at his nephew, and the two men locked eyes for a minute; Dante forced a nervous little grin and Nero let out a small chuckle.

"You'll be fine," He mumbled, so quietly only Dante could hear him. "She'll turn up. Ain't the type to run off."

Dante nodded, his nervousness leaving with that reassurance, and his humor returning. He looked over his shoulder, at the sharply dressed but frowning "officiant", and made a face. Vergil scoffed in return and looked away, but after a moment, a small smile crept upon his face. Truth be told, he was happy for his brother; honored to have been chosen to officiate your wedding even though he held no real position in the church.

"I wonder what they'd think of us now," Dante mumbled, reaching up and scratching his head.

"They would be proud, I am sure," Vergil responded softly. "I imagine Father would be up in arms and Mother in tears, fussing over our outfits."

"That does sound like them," Dante chuckled. "Well, actually, I bet Dad would like Y/N. She's a keeper."

"Indeed," Vergil agreed, reluctant to say so.

"Hey," Dante began, after a moment of silence. "Since you're basically Dad reincarnated, speak on his behalf. Ya like her or not?"

"I...suppose," Vergil grumbled, folding his arms. "A sweet girl, one who could do much better...but it is a good thing she chose to stay with you."

"Now what's that supposed to mean?" Dante laughed.

"It means you need all the help you can get and that girl is the only one who can and will give it to you."

"Huh," Dante shrugged, thinking about it for a moment. "Guess you're right."

Almost as soon as he finished that sentence, the famous song "Here comes the bride" played by an organ filled the room, providing the perfect background music as Dante beheld your white-clad form as you walked down the aisle, dress shimmering in the moonlight, Morrison at your side, holding onto your arm; Trish behind you in a simple but elegant gown, throwing flowers petals onto the floor as you walked. Even though your face was obscured by a lacy veil, Dante could see you had a wide smile on your face, and found himself grinning from ear to ear as well.

In just a few moments, you'd reached the altar. Trish hsd emptied out her basket of flowers onto the floor and followed Morrison to their seats in the front row, leaving you and the Sparda boys standing at the altar. After exchanging looks with you and Dante, Vergil began to speak.

"We are gathered hear today to witness the joining of these two in demonic matrimony. Do you, Dante Sparda, take Y/N L/N as your sinisterly married wife?"

"I do."

"And do you, Y/N L/N take Dante Sparda as your sinisterly married husband?"

"I do."

"Then by the power vested in me as a son of Sparda, I pronounce you two husband and wife."

Nero then handed Dante the rings and Vergil the Yamato, which the latter used to tap your shoulders like a king bestowing knighthood while you and the former slipped rings onto each other's fingers.

"Go ahead and kiss already, you fools," Vergil grumbled fondly, sliding the Yamato into the sheath on his hip and watching as Dante tenderly lifted the veil up over your face, taking a minute to admire how the moonlight danced upon your features, making you seem to glow like an angel.

"You're so beautiful," He mumbled, leaning in and kissing you deeply.

You responded by hooking your arms around him and tugging him even closer, trying to savor this moment for as long as you could. You would have been disappointed when he finally pulled away had you not known that this moonlit wedding marked the beginning of a fulfilling and happy marriage that both of you deserved.

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cutebutalsostabby · 5 months ago

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If Twilight doesn't have an actual bed in his treehouse, do they have to cram the entire Chain in Rusl and Uli's place or camp outside??

I feel like that would be grounds for mutiny if Twilight forgot and then dragged them the whole way there just to sleep on the hard wooden floor.

I think he can have ONE bed, as a treat. They gave him one in the manga, and it's notoriously weird that he's the only one in the village without a bed. Even Time's far smaller and less sophisticated treehouse had a bed. Which I guess was weird in its own right (do Kokiri sleep? What about that one house that's just treasure chests? Weirdo Mido), but I still think Twilight should get one. Maybe it just temporarily vanished during the events of the game itself. Maybe it was out for repairs, or packed away for cleaning. Idk.

In any case. I think camping on the floor in Twilight's house would be way more comfortable than cramming into Rusl and Uli's small and heavily occupied home. They have multiple kids already! And two adults! And their house is smaller than his!

Plus, even if the floor is a little hard and uncomfortable to sleep on, it would at least be warm. See Exhibit A:

See that? TWO whole stoves, right next to each other. With plenty of wooden furniture nearby to keep them warm. And none of those silly "fire safety" grate things. Stretch out a few extra blankets and mats and you're good to go!

If that sounds less than desirable for whatever reason... honestly I think Ordon deserves its own inn. Maybe not a particularly large one, but they surely have visitors every now and then, even if just for seasonal events. I think it's fair game to add extra details like that when writing up fanfics or similar, even if they aren't strictly canon.

...Fire hazard sleepover WOULD be cheaper though. And honestly not that uncomfortable by the Chain's standards. They can deal with it.

#linked universe #lu twilight #I know we focus on the bed but THE FIRE HAZARD STOVE #BRO YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER BY NOW #I like to think he renovated after his quest for THAT very purpose #and maybe added an extra bed or two at the time #but yeah feel free to take whatever literary licence you like with this stuff Uli and Rusl can have more room if we want them to

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dayseedrawz2 · 4 months ago

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Hahaha uhmm idk what to do so here's a self-indulgent Uh I mean practice fic while I mentally prepare for chapter 4 based on that One post I made a while back.

This is all cannon to Ring-Misstress AU btw

Uhhh enjoy!!

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"Bedtime story" - (A Ring-Misstress fanfic fanfic)

Pomni found herself walking towards her room, not just alone, but with a child holding her hand. But it was all by choice (mostly). She and Caine now had a mission to raise this small AI. She herself was surprised just how motherly she could be.

[So, I get to sleep in the big bed with you??]

♧Just untill Caine and I can design your own bed. Here, go ahead and look around!♧

The Ring-Misstress opened up the door with her face on it.

This was Voz's first time in his new mother's room. Well- his first time in the circus at all! His first day existing! The moment he stepped in to look around, something immediately caught his eye.

Up on a small desk beside the bed stood a small plushie. A chubby yellow and green alligator with a cowboy hat. Sitting on the edge of the desk with its arms and legs stretched straight out in front of him.

Voz had to jump but successfully obtained the plush from its spot. Pomni noticed him and chuckeld.

♧I see you've met my friend Gummigoo.♧

[Is that his name??]

♧Yup. Named him after an old friend of mine. I got him as a gift! My most prized possession!♧

[Really?? Woah...]

Voz looked up at Pomni and back down at the Gummigoo in his hands. Pomni pulled out a replica of Caine's WackyWatch.

♧Welp, let's get you and Gummi to bed. Caine says you gotta recharge.♧

She picked him up, still with the plush in his hands. As she tucked him in, his little artificial mind couldn't help but stay curious.

[Mama, you said he's named after an old friend. Who??]

♧Yesh, it's quite a long story... you sure??♧

Pomni teased, knowing this was most likely a lure to get him to stay up longer.

[Yes yes yes please tell me everything!!]

Voz squealed with excitement, wanting nothing more but to learn about his mother and the world around him.

♧Alright, alright, I guess a little bedtime story wouldn't hurt. Well, it all started the second day I joined the circus...♧

*Insert Pomni's POV from episode 2 (you already know what happened) ok back to the story*

[Papa did WHAT!?]

He squezzed Gummigoo as right as he could.

♧Mhmm.♧

Pomni nodded. It was a whole lot for Voz to take in. "But... if that happened the day after Pomni and Caine met, then... how are they still friends??"

[So... you weren't mad at him..?]

♧Oh no, I was really mad At him for a LOOOOOOONG time. Untill one day...♧

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Caine stood in midair, confused why the Jester was so blind by rage.

☆Pomni... I- I don't understand... he was just some old NPC of mine! Why are you so... upset-☆

♧OF COURSE YOU DONT UNDERSTAND YOU HEARTLESS PEACE OF SH-♧

The Ringmaster crossed his arms with an exaggerated expression on his face. Still oblivous to the issue at hand.

☆Hey, hey! There's no need for such language!May I remind you that The Amazing Digital Circus has a very strict family-friendly Policy-☆

♧I DON'T CARE ABOUT SOME STUPID @#! POLICY!! YOU'RE A SORRY EXCUSE FOR A RINGMASTER! YOU DIDN'T EVEN HESITATE TO SNAP HIM OUT OF EXISTENCE!! I JUST WANTED TO HELP HIM AND NOW HE'S- ...he's...♧

Pomni suddenly stopped. Small sniffles escaped her as she stormed off to who knows where.

A few hours passed, and there was no sign of Pomni. Caine had asked all the other performers for any information, but they either didn't know or didn't care to help him.

He was digitally heartbroken. He somberly floated around the circus tents interior. Pomni would probably never look him in the face ever again. He just wanted to get to know his new performer. He genuinely didn't know what he had done wrong. If he could just try to find her and talk things out...

Then, he heard what sounded like Pomni sobbing in the distance.

☆Well, that's oddly convenient.☆

He followed the sound and turned the corner to see that it was, in fact, Pomni. She sat on the floor with her knees to her chest and her head buried in her hands to cry. He called for her, but she didn't answer and stayed in the same position.

The ringmaster let out a defeated sigh as he descended to the ground to sit beside her.

☆Hey...☆

He scooted a little closer, so he was heard. This was probably the quietest Pomni had ever heard him.

☆I know I probably haven't been doing my best, but-☆

☆I just want you to know that I'm trying.☆

☆I really am.☆

☆and I'm sorry if I've screwed it all up.☆

☆I am so, very sorry, my dear...☆

He thought about the argument they had. That NPC really did make her happy. More than he ever could. But he took it away from her. He's supposed to make his members happy, and he took away the ONE thing that brought her joy. She was right... What a sorry excuse of a Ringmaster...

At this point, he, too, was on the brink of tears.

Pomni finally looked up. She saw that he really was being genuine. But still salty, she got up and faced away from him, crossing her arms.

Caine also got up. He began to speak again, trying to be a bit less quiet.

☆Oh... I see... B-but I still wanna make it up to you! I... I realized how much your NPC friend made you happy. And I really wanted to keep it that way. I was really hoping we could... start over. So... I made this!☆

He snapped his fingers, and Pomni's hands spawned a little plush replica of her gummy gator friend. She slowly turned to look at Caine again. He was looking down, fidgeting with his hands. He quickly stopped once he realized that she was looking at him.

Pomni looked back at the plush, then back up at Caine. Her eyes were watering, and her mouth began to quiver. Caine's expression of worry returned, and he began fidgeting again.

☆O-oh... oh my you- you're crying again... I wasn't sure if this would help, but it looks like I have my answer. ...I suppose I'll see myself out now-☆

Pomni leaped towards Caine and wrapped her arms around him. For a moment, Caine froze. This was the first time someone had hugged him willingly, so though unexpected, he still returned it.

♧Thank you Caine. You're still kind of an awful ringmaster, but I forgive you...♧

☆Does this mean we can start over..?☆

Pomni nodded. Even though made out of teeth, you could still make out a huge smile on Caine's face. She couldn't help but giggle at his attempts to keep his cool.

♧Heheh, let ME be the ringmaster for a day why don't ya?♧

She joked through her now happy tears. Caine caught on and laughed along with her.

☆Ha! You'd probably do a better job than me!☆

♧Pfft, no kidding!♧

The pair laughed together for the rest of the evening.

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♧And that's how me and Caine became friends! And how i git one of my favorite gifts! I thought you're father just wanted to hurt us but turns out... he's actually... really sweet. Uh- So... what do you-♧

Pomni was brought back to the present moment, smiling down at Voz who was fast asleep, hugging the Gummigoo plush.

Perhaps there was more than one prized possession Caine had given her...

#this is basically a late bday gift... for myself-#happy late birthday to me!#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc caine #tadc pomni #caine #showtime #tadc showtime #caine x pomni #[ring misstress au]#[r m fic tag]#dayseeyaps

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curiousaromantic · 5 months ago

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Just finished Ghost of Tsushima main storyline AND Iki Island DLC.

sighs

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT, OMG

One of the best games I’ve ever played tbh, it was beautiful, I fell in love with Jin Sakai and his character, like, he is genuinely a beautiful person and omg I felt pretty charmed by his resolve throughout the entire game—more men like Jin Sakai please. (yuna youre so lucky girl…)

I’m not much of a gamer myself, kind of I guess, I play when I have free time in my PS5 and when it comes to action games I’m a coward lol idk why whenever I am pushed into a battlefield I freak out (I almost had a heart attack when I started Ghost of Tsushima and the mothafuckers sent straight to fight at Komoda Beach, HELLO? The intro was so beautiful tho…). But Ghost of Tsushima balanced everything very well, and I enjoyed doing NPCs side missions, I felt powerful and badass.

(The way how the fear that the Ghost inflicts on his enemies is portrayed??? Chef’s kiss honestly. And the Records items, especially Conversations with the Khan, I enjoy the lore with so so so so much glee hehe.)

The characters, I fell in love with the characters. I knew I liked videogames when I first played Far Cry 4 and the characters felt so dear to me, and Ghost of Tsushima brought me back to when I was like 9?? and I was playing FC4 on my dad’s PS3. Jin’s story and the rest of the characters’ Tales hypnotized me, idk. The flashbacks, the foreshadowing, the small conservations within Jin and the others…I was sobbing in the ending and in Masako’s and Yuna’s tales. AND THE LOVELY WAY WE GOT SO MUCH APPROACHES TO IMPORTANT THEMES AS WOMEN EMPOWERING, FAMILY, QUEERNESS, TRADITIONALISM, ETC. jin baby you deserve the world.

Ngl, while I was playing the game not only I cherished every single interaction of Jin and his allies/friends, but I was glad he had the time to talk and rest, yk? And that’s why I love Yuna so much, gods.

From what I’ve seen, many ship Ryuzo and Jin, and while I kind of understand and respect Ryuzo, I don’t personally ship them. I was too excited to duel him the moment he was deemed a traitor lol, this game brought out the worst side of me (i was cackling when i got the ghost stance, run fuckers!). I did cry a lot on Iki Island whenever Jin had Ryuzo’s hallucinations, like, ouch, I would hurt forever if a childhood friendship ended like that.

(Talking about Iki Island, Kenji doing a cameo there LMAO, and Jin teasing him with “so you left Tsushima and you didn’t even bothered to say goodbye?” AJDKAKDKAKS YES YOU TELL HIM JIN)

Now, Jin and Yuna??? Muah muah muah, they are soulmates, romantic or platonically or both. Its the way Jin (throughout the story this loyalty builds up, love that) does everything no questions asked when it comes to Yuna, going with her to her tales? Damn Jin straight went and brought her heads! How romantic. The way Kenji was like “he cannot refuse if I tell him Yuna’s waiting”, AND THE WAY JIN HIMSELF OUTRIGHT SAYS THINGS LIKE ‘I would give my life for you’ OR ‘so you and Takeshi…?’ Hehehe they are so precious. They are definitely in love your honor, at least for me.

Wish I could still find the characters in the map or something after the main story ends, I’m at my new home behind Omi Monastery full of nostalgia because Jin’s home is a mosaic of gifts and remembrances of everyone he has known. Yuna’s gift, Ryuzo’s hat, Taka’s hook, Kenji’s sake, First Horse’s saddle (Nobu precious, I wish you had been there with me 😭) and lots of other stuff from Masako, Ishikawa, Lord Shimura, and many others that I don’t remember rn. Like, it is clear Jin loves his homeland, his people, his friends, I’m sure he would have made a perfect Lord, aw.

Thank you for reading my venting. Now, I need fanfics.

#ghost of tsushima #jin sakai #yuna ghost of tsushima #yuna #video games #taka #iki island #ryuzo #kenji #masako adachi #sensei ishikawa #lord shimura

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monpalace · 1 year ago

Text

ships .. (ocarina of time/majora's mask) link/reader, (linked universe) time/reader.

content .. it's only natural you search for your nephew after he enters the lost woods on a dare. you can't have a problem with the hand dealt to you when the beast who gives you shelter is so kind.

warnings .. no beta, we die like the promise i made to finish this before the summer after my junior year ended (i started this in april, it's august). i didn't know where i was going with this after a certain point and i think that's obvious. reader uses she/her pronouns. large, legal age gap (reader is in her 30's - 40's, time is a few hundred years old). less of a fic and more snippets, but it's almost 7.5k+ words. i don't think i explicitly say which link it is, so i guess it's ambiguous? nephew is named because this would be a pain to write otherwise.

notes .. prompted (not inspired!!) by beauty and the beast, but also the batb fanfic i found after my friend showed my an nsfw ao3 tag account on twitter. beelzebub / lord of the flies from fear and hunger was a huge inspo for link / time's physical description but there is leeway for how he can be envisioned. he's still large as shit though lmao. the layout of the manor was this, only because i wouldn't be able to write this without knowing.

supposedly there's gonna be a second part. supposedly.

idk. i might hate this enough to just. not.

The Lost Woods wasn't as intimidating as everyone talked it up to be.

Yes, it felt like the trees moved when you turned your back to them, and, granted, there were a few mobs of monsters that could get the jump on you if you weren't paying attention, but you had managed to get away with a few scrapes the few times it had happened.

The only thing to keep you company was the howling winds that grew in intensity and your own thoughts that were sprawling into whatever corners they could reach, but that was fine. You'd gratefully take decades-old gossip from the next town over instead of the creeping paranoia of what was behind you.

Of course, you would willingly go through this, that, and whatever else one thousand times over if it meant finding your nephew— and to keep yourself from reprimanding yourself from reprimanding the teens that had dared him out into the woods, but that was another thing.

Along your investigation, you'd found a broken trail of breadcrumbs that led to nothing when you followed them. They were torn pieces of fabric from his clothes, just big enough to be noticeable but small enough to keep himself protected from the elements.

(You'll forever be thankful that a younger your drilled the idea into his head.)

You'd long since discovered calling his name was useless. The only thing you've managed to do was draw the attention of a few wandering stalfos dressed in clothes from centuries ago.

The ones that had managed to find weapons were always the most painful to deal with.

If your determination weren't so established, you would've lost your sanity within the first day.

Food and water were no issue, you were smart enough to pack more than a week's worth of both. There were non-perishable options and several choices for your nephew when you found him; he'd no doubt have his fair share of cravings after being lost for so long.

(Three days was an eternity to you.)

Just before the sun had reached its crest in the sky, you'd realized that there were more empty clearings than trees. Wildlife had become scarce as well.

Where deers and wolves previously ran abundant, birds and squirrels that ran from the smallest of noises replaced them.

The wind had calmed, at least. It no longer wanted to push and shove you in whatever direction it pleased or steal the bag full of items you brought along. You didn't have to hug your sweater to your chest in fear of it being ripped from your arms either.

Instead, it was still.

Admittedly, the clearing gives you more paranoia than anything else.

When your mind starts to wander to places you'd rather it not reach, you begin to hum a quiet tune to yourself— your nephew's favorite— and allow it to ground you.

You were here for a reason. You wouldn't leave until you found him. You'll be fine until you find him, and you'll find some way to live in the forest that refuses to let its inhabitants go peacefully.

It's hours later when you hear the first sound of life (or suspended death) that doesn't feel like a threat— though, in hindsight, you should've been smarter and more suspicious of it when you first heard it.

A high-pitched instrument repeats each croon you let out, eventually taking over and silencing you. You follow the tune without much of a thought. If it were some sort of elaborate trap to lure you in, you couldn't be mad at yourself if you fell for it.

Clusters of trees become less and less as you follow the instrument and its recreation of your nephew's song. You call his name and are met with nothing but the music (from an ocarina, you quickly recognize) growing louder as time passes.

To say you're shocked when a large and, admittedly, well-kept manor enters your field of view would be an understatement. It's covered in vines, invasive arrowroots, and spreading flowers, but looks lived in if the smoldering smoke slowly dissipating in the afternoon air was anything to go by.

You couldn't begin to imagine who lived inside before the woods took it over (or what lived in it now). The architecture says it predates the Hero split in four, but you doubted the inhabitants of the floating sky built something so elaborate when they returned to the surface.

Your eyes jump past the crumbling pillars and dilapidated statues to the half-glass double doors that seemed to open on their own.

The music was coming from inside the manor now.

Steeling your nerves and squaring your shoulders, your hand grips tight on the strap of your satchel as you walk up the stone stairs covered in moss. You have to hold onto the guardrail installed next to it just as tight. Looking down, you find the carvings of it sorely separating it from the older antiquity of the manor.

Taking in smaller details (for future escapes or weapons against whatever lived inside, you'd figure out later), you find that the small pools of water that came from the sides of the manor and ran and fell alongside the stairs you climbed held small clumps of straw-colored fur. Some caused the surrounding water to turn into a pink hue that reminded you of fairies you've seen in childrens' books.

(Your hand reaches into the satchel to make sure you brought all of your nephew's well-loved books as well as a novel or two for yourself.)

(You did, thankfully.)

There's a smell filled with musk that permeates the air the closer you get to the manor, thick with amber and ginger and it reminds you of the times you come across a pack of wolves during your childhood.

Upon entering the manor, you find it was strongest in the wing of the manor to your right. It took over almost the entirety of your senses, but it wasn't an unwelcome or overwhelming sensation. If you paid close enough attention, you could sense the homely feeling underneath the ferality of it.

You prayed you'd be able to tell when the beast returned; if it was gone in the first place.

You take close note of how the foyer wasn't truly a foyer with how it was filled with windows rather than walls that led to a courtyard and how the only way to enter the wings of the manor was the winded stairs that connected via the terrace.

You don't fail to notice how the wing coated in the musky scent is coated entirely in shadows despite all the sources of light.

You couldn't decide if you were thankful or filled with loathing at the idea of what roamed on that side of the manor.

It's a struggle to turn your eyes away from the darkened wing of the manor, but you do manage when the music picks up once more from the left wing. It's significantly brighter and doesn't fill you with a sense of dread as the right one does.

Trap be damned, your nephew was here, you knew it— you felt it.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you find that you're inside a parlor room that leads to three other pathways. One was a library, another was a dining room, and the last was a small hallway.

In any other situation, you'd explore some more. The supposed beast that possibly lived in the manor kept everything in better shape than what you'd expect— or hopefully it was the forest spirits that lived throughout the forest.

Hopefully, those same spirits kept your nephew safe.

You have to close your eyes to better determine where the music is coming from, the only thing you can hear beside it and your own breathing being the manor settling. Your ears guide you inside the hall and you find it branches into a corridor, a bathroom, and two bedrooms.

Common sense seems to leave you when you spot the back of your nephew's head. Your breath quickens as you watch him clap along with the ocarina, you force your eyes to keep their clarity when you hear him hum each note just as you remember.

"''ire," you call in a weaker voice than you intended or thought you had. The nickname he claimed he hated so much tumbled from your lips so easily as you rushed inside the room, one arm rushing to remove your satchel while the other reached out to almost check if he was real.

The Lost Woods were known for their tricks, after all.

When he turns to face you, he's scrambling over himself in the bed. You're able to see how he limps on his right ankle and knee, how the entirety of his limbs were wrapped in bandage wrap as though done by a child. There was no blood, so you hold off on checking him over.

(The bandages were stained, thankfully not with blood. It was mostly dust and grime.)

(You'd have to sanitize whatever was wrong.)

You meet him more than halfway when you catch the way he winces and hisses with each movement.

"Auntie— Auntie— Titi!" His voice is airy as he speaks, emotion causing his words to come out as chokes. His arms reciprocated the tight hug you had on him, forcibly keeping his arms from trembling due to either nerves or injuries. "Titi, Titi, Titi!"

The way he says the word makes him sound like some chittering bug. If you listened hard enough, you could tell how his teeth clattered together, but you couldn't decipher if it was from a chill or emotion.

All you wanted to do was keep his head against the crook of your shoulder and neck while you pressed kisses to the crown of his head and kept him as close to you as you could, but you knew better.

Pulling away, you reach back for the satchel that you previously discarded. "What's wrong? What happened?" You force your voice to even out when you speak, hands already reaching for his arms after you sit the bag against your hip.

He shakes his head, but you've known him long enough to know there was something wrong. "They're from when I first went in the forest," he answers, voice quivering. "It's all healed. I think."

He doesn't push your hands away or pull his arms back when you skillfully unravel the bandages, carefully pulling and prodding the scars that littered the skin, and he was telling the truth despite the coloring.

"Did you forage like I taught you? Why are most of them green?"

"The spirits."

"The spirits?"

"And the soldier." He looks over your shoulder as though searching for their figures. "I haven't seen him yet, though."

Your eyes squint as one of your hands rubs over the strange texture of the scar, the other reaching for the antiseptic and clean fabric in your bag. "Are these spirits children or small trees with masks?"

You'd heard of both in legend. No one's ever seen them.

You're not sure which you'd rather watch over your nephew.

His eyes drift to his side before peering back over your shoulder once again. His brows furrow as he thinks of how to answer, head tilting as his pupils dilate.

"Both," he answers, "and ones that look like scarecrows. I asked them to bring you."

You force your gaze to keep itself on your nephew. You wouldn't let it wander to spirits you couldn't even see. "The ocarina?" You instead ask another question jumping around your mind, sucking your tongue in appreciation when he nods. "Smart boy."

An airy laugh leaves him, his face lighting up with a smile. "Learned from the best," he snorts.

You risk pressing kisses to the apples of his cheeks and forehead at his flattery, hands cupping themselves on the nape of his neck to bring him closer.

A younger him would push you away without a second thought, whining on about how you were embarrassing him in front of his friends.

He lets you do so now regardless of the spirits that surround you both.

"What've you been eating?" Your hands drop to his biceps when you pull away. They weren't thin like you'd expect them to be after three days in the forest; they were fatter than they had been before he left. "Who's been feeding you?"

His answer of "the Soldier," is quicker than you would've liked. "He goes out and hunts. He always brings back meat. I think it's deer.. it tastes.. bland."

"He.. cooks it, right?"

Another laugh wracks through your nephew's body. He knows you're only being cautious, but he can't help it.

"All the way through," he hums, flexing his arms when they start feeling stiff. "I think I don't like it because it's not your cooking."

He knows what your response is going to be before he finishes speaking, years of having lived under your guidance making him attuned to the smallest of your movements.

When your expression shifts from being relieved to disappointment with a twitch of your eye, he can tell you're not pleased with his statement.

Dousing the fabric in the antiseptic, you take his arm in your hand and begin wiping it down. "Don't be rude." Your voice takes on a less-than-pleased rasp, speaking lowly as if you knew the Soldier was near; but you still apologize when the sting sets in. "Have you thanked him?"

(You're sure you would continue to speak quietly regardless of the context of the conversation. You didn't want to risk "the Soldier," doing anything unfavorable.)

(Your nephew's words of praise did little to ease your stressed heart.)

"I never know when he's here. He drops the food off while I'm asleep. He brings books and carvings too." He watches as you wrap his arm in another roll of (cleaner) bandages, undoing the old one on his other arm while you prepare another piece of fabric. "The Spirits say I'm the most excitement he's had in a while, so he doesn't mind."

His voice was beginning to grow hoarse from speaking so quietly. You tap his throat to tell him to relax.

"They say he's nice," he continues, doing as told. Tapping the fingers of his now free hand against your shin, he tries to recall what all they've told him.

"I think they said he used to live in another part of the woods when he was a kid?—" His eyes glance back over your shoulder, suddenly becoming sure of himself. "— Ah. They did. They said he left and came back when he was older."

You raise a brow but don't speak your question.

Your nephew takes hold of your retreating hands in both of his.

A clatter and snippy huff outside the bedroom door rouses you from your light sleep.

Nearing a week into your stay at the manor, you'd think you'd be more accustomed to the noise, but you aren't.

You carefully remove your nephew's head from your arm, using even more caution when trying to remove the conjoined weight of several spirits from your legs as you slip out of the bed.

It's hard, but you manage to do so without waking any of them— you hope.

(You still couldn't see any of the Spirits, but over time you could feel when they crowded around you and when the wind moved as they rushed past you.)

The floorboards creak beneath your feet.

You hear the sound of claws scratching against the floor on the other side of the door.

Pressing the crown of your head against the door, you tap your fingers along the handle to give the Soldier a warning and wait a few moments.

If you listened hard enough, you swear you could hear him scurrying into one of the other rooms before he shut the door behind him.

It reminded you of a dog.

Smiling to yourself, you're careful opening the door, keeping your head to it and your eyes on the floor. You turn to the other side of it to close it, waiting for the click of the lockset to speak.

"Are you decent?"

His confused "huh," sounds more akin to a gasp than any other noise.

You rap your fingers against the handle again. "Can I look up?"

"Oh—" he sounds choked. "Yeah— Yes. Yes. You can. Sorry."

"Thank you," you hum, leaning down to pick up the tray of food. It consisted of almost entirely meat with a few vegetables you figure are exclusive to the woods. "For both the food and taking care of my nephew."

There was a thumping noise behind the door, the frequency of it was like a tail beating excitedly.

The Soldier lets out a croaking noise and you know his mouth started moving before his mind was able to catch up. "No, I should thank you for looking for him— and for telling him not to use his name."

You let out an airy laugh. "It's common knowledge where I'm from. I wouldn't be a good parental figure if I didn't."

Another noise leaves the Soldier as you fix yourself to open the door. You can't discern what this one means. "I don't know when they started calling me the Soldier, but it's not— uhm.. A favorite.. of mine."

"Oh?"

"Soldier," he sounds more confident in himself and you don't have the heart to tell him you heard him the first time, "it's a nickname. I don't know where the kids got it, but I don't like it."

Readjusting the tray to rest against your hip and forearm rather than in both your hands, you hum curiously. "So what should we be calling you?"

He pauses longer than you'd think it'd take to remember your own name, but you wait.

"Link."

"Link?"

"Yes."

"Like in a chain?"

".. Yes."

You nod even though you're sure he can't see you. "I'll be sure to tell 'ire."

"Thank you." There's more thumping from behind the door.

"And thank you."

There's another noise from Link you struggle to understand, but you figure it's because he starves for conversation. "I heard what your nephew said about the food, too. I'll try to find something to flavor it with next time I'm out."

"Thank you," you repeat. Your eyes curve with your smile. "He'll greatly appreciate it."

Link raps his fingers against the door in response, but he doesn't say anything. You take that as your queue to reenter the bedroom.

"How come your side of the house is always dark?"

You gently pinch your nephew's elbow and he swats your hand away, leaning impossibly close to the door that separates him and Link.

There are a few moments of silence from the man that 'ire filled with bated breath. Link takes an audible, steadying breath before knocking what you think is his nail against the door.

"I wouldn't want to scare you both off."

It was an answer you expected, but you were disappointed nonetheless.

"Boo," your nephew groans. You're sure Link could hear the pout in his voice if the quiet chuckle he lets out was anything to go by. "You can't be worse than what I've seen out there."

There's genuine intrigue in the noise Link lets out. "Oh? What exactly have you seen then?"

Pure excitement fills your nephew's expression when he turns to look at you from over his shoulder. His fingers tap against the floor restlessly, tongue already listing off whatever monsters he's encountered (read: come up with) in his twelve years of life.

"— but their teeth are the worst! They're poisonous and there isn't a cure for it!"

You have no clue as to what creature he was talking of now. There were at least fifteen of them who injected poison through their teeth, eight of which had no cure.

(You don't have to strain as hard to see the Spirits as you did two weeks ago. The shadows and light shift around then as they move to sit around your nephew, seemingly hooked on your nephew's every word.)

(You remember when he would crowd himself around you similarly whenever you would tell him a story.)

You close the book that sat in your lap more for decoration than entertainment at that point and place a hand over your heart.

"I drew a lot of them too! My aunt brought them with her!" He pushes himself through the motions of standing up before immediately stopping and returning to his seat in front of the door. "I'll show them to you if you eat dinner with us!"

There are a few stammering noises from the other side of the door and yet you can't bring yourself to apologize for your nephew's bargaining.

Your own curiosity was quickly starting to get the better of you against your wishes.

The noise he had made several nights before makes itself heard again. His claws (you discovered those a few nights ago) scratch against the wooden flooring as he moves to sit against the other wall rather than the door, his voice moving with him.

"I don't want to— I wouldn't want— want to disturb you— either of you." His words are muffled by the door and his growing quietness, a regretful lilt stuck in his throat. "But thank you for the offer."

If he truly didn't want to join you and your nephew (and the spirits) for dinner, he was terrible at showing it.

"I know I wouldn't mind," you hum, standing to put away the book. A loud thumping makes the floor vibrate and 'ire has to stifle a laugh. "I wouldn't mind picking up a pot and pan again either."

"No!" Link quickly apologizes for his tone after realizing his outburst. "You don't have to. I wouldn't be a good host if I made you do that."

"Are you scared I'll poison you?"

Your nephew's voice drops to a whisper he swears you won't be able to hear. "She can't. She's the best cook ever."

You're not sure how the two correlate, but you'd take thew compliment.

"She won't?" Link's voice drops to entertain your nephew despite his earlier convictions. It takes on a playful direction, fur rubbing against the wood-tiled floors in excitement (based on prior interactions). "You've never gotten sick? Not once?"

'ire begins to shake his head but quickly stops. "Only from eating too much— which you will do, by the way. Best cook around," he reiterates.

Link chuckles, tapping his fingers against the floor restlessly. It takes him a moment to come up with something to say and neither of you push him to hurry.

You were both too hooked on his every word to do so anyway.

"I'll.." He's shy for all the attention. You wonder when the last time he got so much focus on him outside of the spirits. ".. I'll be sure to think about your offer. Why don't you tell me about a few of your monsters so I have more of an incentive?"

Your nephew jumps on the opportunity while you think over the plethora of recipes in your mind.

It wasn't rare for one of the imps to accompany you outside when you went foraging.

You never strayed too far from the manor— the last time you had been dragged outside of the area you had designated for yourself (and your nephew) by the children, Link had to come and rescue to lot of you before the sun had gotten too low.

Suffice to say, it was a rather humbling experience.

Kneeling, squatting, or sitting on the ground had never been easy on your knees or back, but the grass below you had felt as though it were a pillow hailing from the Heavens itself.

Your body works on picking herbs from the ground before placing them in your bag repurposed for your (new) everyday tasks while your mind wanders elsewhere.

You're humming to yourself when a twig snapping breaks your focus.

It was a nice reminder that the imps hadn't, in fact, accompanied you that day.

Your head lifts to survey the surrounding woods. Your entire body was still, mimicking a deer caught on a hunting trip.

There was nothing immediately in your line of sight that could be seen as a threat, but you had lived a long enough life to know that wasn't enough reason to let your guard down.

You're slow to rise to your feet and your ears are strained as you listen for whatever had made the noise.

"I'm sorry!"

You can feel your body relax when you hear Link's voice call out from behind a tree. You sink back to your knees without much thought, clutching the fabric of your top to calm your battering heart.

You weren't sure what you were going to do if it were an actual danger anyway.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he continues. His arms move and you can see one drop against the side of a tree while the other tightens around the corpse of an animal. "You were so still, I wasn't sure if you were okay."

A quiet, breathless noise leaves you. You're not sure if he could hear it, but you can see his shoulders relax when you do. "You're— You're fine! I just.. didn't know that you'd be out and about at this time."

When the hand not occupied with that week's dinner (barely) lifts to grab ahold of a tree branch, you're shocked to just now find out how tall he is.

"It's not your fault. I didn't know you were out here," he grunts while gently tugging at the branch. "Are you alone?"

Your eyes drop to the flora that surrounds you to not feel so invasive. Your fingers rub against the blades of grass idly when a restless feeling overtakes you. "A few of the kids said they'd join me later, but I'm not too sure when that's supposed to be." A short, genuine laugh leaves you. "I wouldn't be surprised if they forgot."

Link lets out his own, quiet laughter that you can only clue together when you see the entire tree shake in your peripheral. "I wouldn't take it to heart. They say they'll join me in hunting all the time but never do."

"Have you ever given them a stern talking to? I've heard that usually works with spirits."

"They barely listen to me as is. I think you'd have more luck than me."

"Is that an offer?"

"Are you headed home now?"

A strange vice tightens around your heart at his wording while you look through your bag. "Mhm," you hum, standing now that your legs aren't like that of a newborn. "You'll have to remind me of the way, though."

"I can guide you," he hums in reply. "You just can't look back."

Turning your back to him, you're surprised you don't jump when a sharp claw gives a ghostly touch to the center of your back.

You're shocked that you disregard the urge to check over your shoulder every step back to the manor.

You were no stranger to 'ire's night terrors.

They'd gotten better over the past few years as he aged, but all that progress had been undone during the near month you'd been in the forest.

Wiping away the tears that had managed to slip out, you ignore the prickly and uncomfortable feeling that comes with keeping your lulling head up so you can watch him.

You'd done it a thousand times before and would do it one thousand and one more if it meant he felt better.

You don't miss how his grip on your arm tightens when you start humming his favorite song. Your hand trails up to his hairline, nails (claws?) tracing the paint on his face that refused to fade.

You'd spent so long trying to scrub them and the green marks off, you hadn't even realized his skin had started to pale into a sickly grey in patches while darkening into (what looked like) a necrotic black in others.

You didn't even want to think about the changes that had started coming to your body.

You were, however, thankful you weren't thinning into a stalfos.

"You're not as sneaky as you'd like to think."

"How'd you know?"

"I have a young nephew. You learn quickly."

A brief laugh leaves Link from behind the cracked door. Though you didn't face him, you could see the way his eyes illuminated the wall in front of you, even managed to catch on some of 'ire's face.

It was a pretty blue color.

You don't comment on it.

"What's wrong?" Your voice has a deep rasp to it, your hand continuing to stroke your nephew's face even after he begins to calm down.

He'd slowly begun dropping more and more barriers (physical and mental) when it came to communicating with you both, having taken up shadows in their stead. He had gotten more confident in conversation as well, stammering and stuttering less the longer your nephew forced him to talk.

It makes you wonder how long it'd take for him to finally make true on those dinner plans.

"I heard him," Link hums just as quietly, the glow of his eyes moving to instead look over the sleeping spirits that crowded themselves around the space not occupied on the bed. "I was worried. Do you want help with them?"

A soft laugh leaves you when one of the imps buries their head onto your calf as though it were a pillow. "They've been like this since we first got here. 'ire," you press a kiss to his forehead when he rouses, waiting for him to settle before speaking again, "says they like to cling."

"You don't mind?"

"He's not too far off from them nowadays."

"Does he miss anything?"

Laying on your back, you being 'ire's head to rest against your shoulder. Your gaze is finally able to see how he'd take up all of the doorway (and then some) through the crack of the door.

You'd be shocked he hadn't flinched away if it hadn't been for the way his hand reached out to clasp it.

The tips of his fingers reached well past the frame of the door, his claws further, and you could only imagine just how much space he was taking up in the small hallway.

You were confident he could fit five or six of you in his hand without trying.

Your eyes jump back to the three (possibly four?) eyes before he can become self-conscious.

"Almost everything," you answer after pulling yourself from your thoughts. "His clothes, his dolls.. He could go without his friends, though."

His eyes jump from your face to the window as he huffs out a nervous laugh. It makes you wonder if he knows something you don't, but you don't push. "And you?"

"Hmm?"

"And yourself," he clarifies, "what do you miss?"

You're silent.

What exactly did you miss?

The feeling of your village's grass between your toes after the rain, the baker's treats that no other could replicate, being a part of such a tight-knit community, the sun after a particularly muggy morning—

There wasn't any need to be a sap.

"I'm not sure," you finally say after a long period of silence. You hadn't realized your eyes had left Link, yet when you force your gaze back to him, he holds it without issue. "I struggled with becoming attached to things unlike 'ire."

"Hm."

"What?"

"I can't remember the last time someone said something like that."

"You have visitors like us often?"

"More than you'd think."

"And what's become of them?"

The glow of his eyes drops to the sleeping spirits that litter before looking to the window again and you quickly understand.

The hum that leaves your throat is more lackluster than you intended it to be, but given how quickly the topic had changed, you give yourself the grace.

"Well," you start after clearing your throat, "what's something that you miss?"

The manor creaks when Link leans against a wall and his confidence in the movement tells you more than you'd expected.

You don't think you'd ever have the same amount of trust he held in it.

There's a playful tone in his voice when he speaks, one of his hands raised to scratch against his chin. "You'd have to promise not to be dramatic when I say."

"Is it my fault you use such outdated terms thousands of years behind my time?"

Link turns away to stifle his laughter, shrouding the room in darkness and forcing your eyes to strain with it.

"I can't say I've had the easiest experience understanding you or your nephew's sayings," he hums, drowning you in the light of his eye when he turns back, "the kids have to keep filling me in."

"Shame, and here I thought you'd been closer to my age. Have you been leading me on this entire time?"

Link's claws knock against the wall, his tail wagging against the floor while he huffs his amusement. "Have I? When I don't even know your name?"

If the weight of 'ire wasn't on your shoulder, you're sure you would've had a physical reaction of some sort.

"It'd do you good to not forget it," he hums, the movement of his tail slowing until it stops entirely. "Titi and Auntie, as much as I hate to say it, won't do much good."

Another lackluster noise leaves you as the arm trapped underneath your nephew lifts to rub your thumb during his forehead. "How fun."

"The kids are too attached to do anything now." The door slowly creaks open before stopping. It shuts so there's only a crack instead. "You'll be fine to share your name now."

"You never answered my question."

"Which one?"

"I haven't asked a lot," you huff before taking a softer tone, eyes rolling closed. "What is it that you miss?"

Link quietly snorts, muffling it by pressing his face to the door. He takes a steadying breath before saying a quiet, "a lot, I suppose. I can't name just a few things." A low noise leaves him, it's similar to a growl. "My friends? Playing music as well— my hands aren't good for much but skewering these days. My horse, Epona, too. She was the prettiest mare."

"Is she red with a white mane?"

"You saw the kids' drawings?"

"I've seen her before, I think— or maybe it was a hallucination?" The hand stroking 'ire's forehead stops as you scrounge your memories. "When I saw her outside the forest, I knew it was real. Another fated hero was mounting her."

You'd like to think yourself a master of figuring out what each noise he makes is meant to mean, but the one Link lets out once you finish speaking is short and of a higher pitch than normal.

When he begins to stammer over his words as he had when you first interacted with him, it feels like years' worth of progress has been undone.

"I— uhm— You— I don't— err— Thank—"

His tail thumps three times before he knocks his head against the door with a heavy groan. He lets out a quiet "Hylia, be damned," you couldn't help but think he hoped you wouldn't hear to go along with his frustration.

"It's been a long night," you finally prompt. "You'd best get some shut-eye before 'ire bombards you with more from his imagination, yeah?"

"Yeah," Link answers in a weak voice. "Yeah," he repeats to himself more than anything, "of course. Good night," he steps away from the door. "Sleep well."

"Same for you."

The night Link finally takes you and 'ire up on your offer for dinner, your nephew and the spirits had taken to floating around the east wing's dining room to prepare it for such a grand event.

"Titi, titi!" One of the Kokiri exclaims, tugging at the fabric of your skirt (that Link had made out of a spare bedsheet). Her voice had a strange echo to it— all of them, really— and had given you migraines up until you'd finally become accustomed to it. "'ire says that you'll make your world-famous pudding! Will you? Will you?"

You ignore her exaggeration in favor of forcing yourself to wrench your eyes away unless you wanted her puppy dog face to work on you. "Should I? I.. I can't say any of you have been acting well enough to deserve it.."

Even in your peripheral, it's not hard to miss the absolutely crushed look on her face. Her eyes were wide and her bottom lip wobbling like she was about to cry despite your joking tone.

"But why—y," she whines, dragging the last syllable on while hiccuping on her breath as she went on. You know the tears pooling in her eyes are just as fake as your rejection of her request— but you know just as well who'll win the battle at the end of the day.

"I—" hiccup. "Want—" hiccup. "Cake—" hiccup.

You raise a brow. "Pudding or cake, sweetheart? I can't make both."

The girl begins to climb your back while you return to sautéing the vegetables, arms wrapping around your neck so she can press her cheek against yours. "Cake! No, pudding! No! Cake! No—"

"I'll tell you what," you interrupt, taking the pan from over the open flame once the food is charred to your liking. Your skin thanks you when you step away and douse the fire, the arid air leaving through the open window. "Why don't you ask a few of the others which they want then we can try and get Link to bake it after dinner?"

The girl jumps off your back with stars practically filling her eyes. She cries out for several names while she runs off, hands clapping excitedly as she shouts out the change in plans.

You're left in peace until your nephew enters with his journals clutched between his arms, bouncing between his feet while he watches you finish plating each food item on dishes you could only dream of owning where you're from.

"D'you think he'll come?" 'ire's voice is low, almost as though scared Link will hear. You know he does if the night of his nightmares a few months ago were anything to go by— but he didn't need to know that.

"He'd better," you answer in an equally low tone. "I didn't spend so long slaving away at this just for him not to."

"Is that a threat?"

The plates in your hands aren't spared by the flinch that wracks through your body. Your reflexes are quick to catch them before any of the food can hit the floor.

'ire, on the other hand, has no issue with voicing his shock in the form of a scream, scurrying from the doorway while dropping his journals. He jumps behind you, hands clutching the fabric of your skirt while he hides himself behind your hip.

"Well?"

Placing a hand over your racing heart after putting the plates down, your other hand comes down to rest on 'ire's head. "It's rude to sneak up on people, you know."

The blond fur of his chest rustles with his laughter. It was difficult to see much else other than that, what with the way he hid himself behind the wall connecting the kitchen to the pantry.

You hadn't even heard his footsteps or creaking floorboards when he first approached. Had he been there the entire time and 'ire hadn't seen him, or had he only walked in after 'ire entered?

You wondered if he was naturally quiet or if he just learned which floorboards were loose.

"Is it sneaking when you were expecting me?" Link's voice is lighter than it usually is, a slight tremble could even be heard if you focused on it enough. He rocks on his feet and briefly leans forward, a less organic-looking side profile coming into view before leaving right after. "If I knew I would be this unwelcomed, I—"

"That's a joke, right?" 'ire stomps away from your side while he speaks, stepping over his discarded compilations of works to stare up at Link with wide eyes. Your nephew ignores the way Link's hands raise to cover his face and how he backs away as soon as he pivots in his foot to face him. "You're not actually gonna pansy out, right?"

Your feet lead you to the two before you can have much of a thought. "Zaire," you say in a terse voice, taking hold of his shoulder and bringing him against your front so you can stop him from interrogating the poor man. "Don't be rude."

Whatever argument he has dies on his tongue when he takes a good, long look at Link. His mouth gaped open like a fish, one of his fingers lifting so he could push it into the fur of his stomach, watching the skin beneath sink with the force of it as though it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"Woah."

If you had any less sense of dignity, you'd let yourself have the same reaction.

"Don't be rude," you reiterate, pushing Zaire's hand down until it finally reaches its rightful place at his side.

"No," Link breathes into his palms, clearing his voice to try and rid it of the anxiety (and, possibly, humiliation). "He's— he's fine. This wouldn't be the first time someone responded like that. I'd be more concerned if he did any other way."

Zaire shrugs your hands from your shoulders, stepping until he is toe-to-claw with Link. "Then why are you hiding your face? It can't be that bad," he says, tugging at the fur of Link's elbows, rubbing them between his fingers so he could better be accustomed to the texture.

Spreading his fingers enough so you both could see the four holes in the inorganic material, Link lets out another heavy breath. "I'm self-conscious," he can tell the answer doesn't please Zaire and continues speaking, "It's been.. too long.. since I've shown anyone either of my faces."

"A mask is.." Your voice falters off when you finally find the words to speak, losing them again when you fail to find a proper way to articulate your thoughts.

"It's mostly you and the kids, no?" You try again when you figure out a way to better word it. "Is a mask not.. Is it.. necessary?"

When the blue light that emits from his eyes lifts to look at you, an unidentifiable emotion shoots through you. He holds your gaze for a few, silent moments before turning his head and dropping his hands.

"It's like a second skin," he simply offers.

"Sad," Zaire sighs, backing away and turning until he stood in the center of the kitchen. "Can you still eat with it? Like I said, Auntie is the best cook in all the realms and you have to taste it to believe it."

Curse your nephew's skill of lightening a mood.

Rather than let his insecurities keep him from looking at either of you for the duration of the night, Link looks down at Zaire with a playful jolt of his shoulders. "It's not fused with my face."

Zaire's eyes curl into crescents while he grabs two of the plates from the counter. "Good!" His tail (a terrifying new addition when he first started changing) wraps around the third dish, walking himself past the two of you in the pantry so he could place each one on the dining table. "You'll love this then! Auntie," you don't miss the way he adds your name causally, "always makes this on a big day!"

Link repeats your name under his breath before doing the same with Zaire's. He lets out a thoughtful nod as each one rolls off his tongue, one pair of eyes looking at you while the other continues to follow your nephew.

He wrings his hands together when he catches the way you examined him oh-so-carefully, arms crossed with your head tilted.

"It's nice," he gulps as though every inch of nervousness had reentered his body. "It's a nice name. I like it. It suits you."

You don't know if you were teasing him prior, but you decide to do so now.

"I'd hope so." You pat a hand against his arm as you walk into the kitchen, ignoring the oily feel of his fur. You ignore the feeling of him watching and instead focus on searching through the cupboards for the drink you had foraged around to make just days before. "I could say the exact same for you, thankfully."

"Now, why don't you have a seat so I can play host this time?"

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