#did i avoid drawing All Legs by hiding them behind grass?

[babooshkart]

save a horse, ride a man who can inspire homicidal tendencies simply by breathing

some capri cowboys for my sweet @nv-md 💕 happy birthday, angel 😘🤠

[flowers-of-io]

Destinytober - Ghost

Read on Ao3 with formatting that isn't broken by the mobile tumblr app :)))

Nkechi-32 takes a deep breath, and exhales Light.

The Lost City is brilliant in the sunlight, overgrown buildings letting the brightness in through wide open windows and cracks in the ceilings. The floor is all grass, lush and green, and when she walks it feels like stepping on soft carpet—a little springy, a little uneaven, enticing her to take off the heavy boots and wade through it barefoot. Perhaps she could indulge in a little picnic, when the job's done.

Because of course there's a job. Much like Micah, to have sent her out Ghost-hunting when she'd barely arrived. Nkechi refocuses her optics as Agu flicks through the sensors on her HUD, trying to lock in on their target, but there is so much Light here it's near impossible to track down a single errant signature.

"I think I got something," he informs, and Nkechi sees it too—a speck of yellow on the heat map, some fifteen metres away from them and approaching. She turns the corner just as Agu says, "Wait, the signature doesn't ma—"

"Hi there!"

"Whoa!" Nkechi takes an abrupt step back, barely avoiding bumping head first into something small and violet. She didn't account for how fast the Ghost was moving.

"Oh, sorry!" It draws back as well, and she can see its shell now: Reef-made, delicate metal cut into shapes like flower petals and glazed over. It is strikingly familiar.

"Pulled Pork?" She laughs in disbelief. "Whatcha doin' here?"

"Nkechi!" he chirps, and cartwheels in the air. "We're patrolling! Oh, and by the way, my name's Glint now!"

"I take it this means you've found your Guardian," she says with a smile.

Agu emerges from his hiding spot and gives the other Ghost a good-natured nudge. "Did you find them on some asteroid?"

"Nope!" Glint cartwheels again, then stops and narrows his optic in thought. "Actually, the Dreaming City is technically built on an asteroid, so I guess it counts...? I don't know. Especially now with the curse and everything."

He is still talking when a shadow drops down from the rafters behind him, landing on two legs and then unfurling into a cloaked figure. With her instincts honed over centuries, Nkechi doesn't even flinch.

"You weren't joking about people calling you shredded meat, huh." The Hunter pushes their hood back and extends a hand to her. "You're Glint's friends, I take it?"

"These are Nkechi and Agu!" Glint says before any of them can reply. His voice gains an almost ceremonial tone when he adds, "And this is Crow, my Guardian."

Nkechi doesn't meet her Ghost's eye, but she can feel the look he is giving her. She shakes Crow's hand instead, and lets Glint ramble on.

They actually saw the missing Ghost, he tells her, a few hours ago by the eastern edge of the city. Crow offers to help track it down. He is quite nice, Nkechi thinks; his countenance seems to be in a state of constant battle between the natural Hunter confidence and the sheepishness of young Guardians in conversation with someone much older. They make quick work together, and she has to admit, he's not half bad a scout, even if Glint almost ruins their cover by chattering like a wound-up toy right in front of a flock of Husks.

Later, after escorting the wayward Ghost to Micah, Agu and her sit together on one of the Tower balconies and watch half the sunset, half the buzzing courtyard below.

"You know," he says, "that's not really what I pictured when I said he might find the greatest Guardian of all time."

"What, a prince of the Reef?"

"A Hunter Vanguard."

Nkechi laughs. "With how well filling that position had been going for the past few years, the odds really weren't in his favour."

"You think they're a good match?"

She looks down at the black-and-white Hunter leaning against the kiosk and chatting with a Legionnary. Glint is a tiny splotch of purple in the folds of his cloak, nestled against his cheek.

"Yeah," she says with a smile, and pulls her own Ghost closer. "Almost as good as we are."

[aerynwrites]

Our Love, For Eternity

King!Viktor x Fem!OC

A/N: here it is, part 1! I hope you all enjoy this part and the parts to follow! I’m excited for this project and hope you are too!

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: children having no filter, very subtle hints of angst, fluff, perhaps a smooch.

Zina always found the young prince peculiar. She’s only seen him a few times since she’s been old enough to accompany her mother throughout the castle. But she often found a pang of sympathy running through her. He was always playing by himself, and he looked…lonely.

One day she changes that. Wandering away from her mother in favor of her curiosity for the prince. He’s tinkering with something when she finds him. Yet another thing that makes him different from the other royal children.

“What is that?” Her voice is piercing in the otherwise silent garden. It’s the one place she’s seen him most, hiding amongst the bushes and flowers.

He jumps at her intrusion, golden eyes widening as they land on her. He pulls his contraption closer to him, eyeing her warily.

Zina doesn’t care, she plops down on the ground next to him anyways, fingers playing with the grass beneath her. “It looks cool, did you make it?”

Her words seem to finally reach the young boy and he unfurls himself slowly, holding out what Zina realizes is a toy boat, gently. “I’ve been working on it for weeks now,” the boy's accent surprises Zina, the lilted words intriguing her, “I’ve finally got it to work I think…I need to go down to the stream to test it.” His eyes fall then, a frown tugging at his lips. “My parents won’t let me go alone.”

Zina perks up immediately, “I can go with you!” She’s already standing up, motioning for him to follow, “let’s go!”

The boy stands much slower than Zina expected and she feels slight surprise when he grabs a small cane from the ground behind him. He leans on it heavily as he stands, boat tucked under his other arm. Zina’s brows pinch as she looks at him.

“What’s wrong with you?” She blurts, but there’s no malice behind her words, just genuine curiosity. The prince shies away anyways.

“I…my leg doesn’t work like it’s supposed to,” he offers slowly, avoiding her eyes.

Zina just smiles, “Then we’ll go slow! Also…” she trails off slightly looking back at the prince who seems happier at her easy acceptance. “What’s your name? My mom always just calls you ‘the prince’.”

The boy smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, “Viktor.”

With a smile and a determined face Zina nudges him towards the exit. “Well let’s go, Viktor! We have a boat to test!”

Zina smiles at the memory as she sets the small boat back on the shelf after dusting beneath it. That day was the start of a lifelong friendship, even if it was difficult at times.

The boat had worked, much to both of their delights as they followed it down stream. That is until Viktor stumbled and fell onto the pebbled shore. Zina had immediately stopped to help him, but Viktor insisted she get the boat first, not wanting to lose his first working invention. She had obliged before coming back to him, brows drawing together in concern as she saw his skinned knees and scraped palms.

She also remembered the fear in her mothers eyes as she brought Viktor back to the servants quarters, not knowing where else to take him.

Zina knows now that her mother was fearful of punishment. Punishment for her daughter coming back with an injured prince. But nothing came. In fact, Zina remembers vividly the kindness the Queen gave her mother when she walked in on her patching up Viktor's injuries. She also remembers the kind way the Queen looked down at her. A soft-ness to her amber irises, so similar to Viktor’s.

“Thank you for looking after him.”

From then on Zina and Viktors friendship was allowed to flourish. The boat was just the first of many toys and inventions Viktor would go on to create. And he would always bring Zina along to test them. Over the years the collection grew, a display of Viktors great mind.

But the boat was always her favorite.

She sighs lightly, knowing the only attention the inventions receive anymore is her scheduled dusting. While the years brought more contraptions they also brought change. Change that made everything so different from how things used to be. The little boat floating down the stream with two children chasing after it feels like a lifetime ago…

“You’ve been staring at that boat an awful long time.”

The familiar accented voice caused Zina to jump slightly at the sudden break in silence. She turns away from the shelf, a hand over her heart as she faces the source.

Viktor stands in the doorway to his room, a small smile tugging at one side of his lips. His hand grips his cane tightly as he takes a few steps into the room. “I didn’t know my room was due to be cleaned today,” his eyes never leave Zina as he approaches her, and she tries in vain to shove away the nagging sense of anxiety nudging at the back of her mind.

This isn’t appropriate. He shouldn’t be here with a servant.

“I clean your room every Thursday, your majesty.” Zina’s voice is quiet but the teasing is still there as his official title rolls off her tongue.

Viktor rolls his eyes, “Not you too,” he practically groans, “You’re the one person I don’t want to call me that. Please.”

Zina scoffs, “You’re the King. What else would you have me call you?”

Viktor hums as he approaches her, the hand not holding the cane reaches up to wrap around her waist slowly, long fingers smoothing over the simple fabric of her dress. “My name would be nice,” he says simply, shrugging as he pulls her closer.

Zina sighs, casting a worried glance over his shoulder towards the door. “Viktor someone could walk in -“

He raises a brow, “Into the King’s quarters unannounced? Unlikely-“

“But not impossible,” Zina interjects, unaware of how her own hands have slid up to clutch gently at his shoulders.

Viktor smiles, “Then allow me one kiss and I’ll leave you alone.”

Zina sighs, rolling her eyes slightly but the smile never leaves her face as she complies with his wishes. She presses her lips to his gently, sighing when he returns the gesture. It’s a sweet, chaste thing, lasting no more than a few moments before Viktor pulls away, placing one last kiss to the corner of her lips.

“Thank you,” he says softly. “I miss you.”

Zina sighs then, pulling herself away from him fully now, eyes cast down to the floor. “I miss you to Vik, I just…” she takes a breath. “Things are different now. You know that.”

Viktor, despite knowing the truth behind her words, is ever insistent. “They don’t have to be,” his cane taps against the floor for emphasis, “I’m the King, I can do what pleases me-“

“Exactly. You’re the King,” her voice is soft as she reaches up to lightly touch the golden crown that sits nestled among his brown locks, “and I’m a servant. That’s all.”

Viktors eyes soften, “You're more than that to me,” his voice is so gentle, so soft, that Zina can practically feel the truth that seeps into it.

She nods, “I know Viktor,” she relents, finally looking back up to him, “You’re more than a king to me.”

He smiles at that, his free hand reaching out to grasp her hand in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. Zina watches as his lips part to speak, but a distant shout of his name interrupts him. Jayce’s voice is booming in the otherwise silent castle and Zina smiles.

“You better go,” she says to Viktor, giving his hand one last squeeze before nudging him towards the door, “Before Lord Talis tears the castle apart.”

Viktor sighs, “Remind me why I made him Hand of the King again?”

Zina chuckles and shrugs, “Because he’s good at his job? You have to admit he’s better with the people and the advisors, and the parties-“

Viktor waves his hand impatiently, “Okay, you’ve made your point.” He sends the woman a genuine smile. “Will you come by after dinner?”

Despite everything in her mind telling her no, Zina smiles. “Always.”

Another call of his name, closer now, spurns the king into action. He presses a quick kiss to her cheek before finally turning and heading towards the door. “I’m coming!” He calls, exiting the room and letting the door click shut behind him.

Zina doesn’t move until the talking of his cane fades from earshot. The woman lets out a sigh then, eyes flicking back to the boat on the shelf. And she can’t help but wish everything was simple again.

Nothing is the same as it was, and her heart clenches in her chest at the thought of it. The past holds fond memories. Memories of laughter and friendship and romance. But now? The present and the future?

Zina can’t help but feel they holds nothing but uncertainty.

Taglist: @twistedstitcher27 @all-hallows-evie @ashotofspotchka

[unyieldingfashav]

TITLE: Flower Amongst Blades RATING: PG (current - warnings for part one include mentions of minor descriptions of fighting machines) PAIRING: Kotallo/OFC SUMMARY: When a sickness spreads throughout the Tenakth clan lands, Chief Hekarro turns to his alliance with the Utaru in search of assistance for his people. Surprisingly to everyone, the young healer Layla volunteers to leave Plainsong and live amongst the Tenakth in hopes of providing relief and remedies to the suffering warriors. And with that uprooting, her world changes forever and she finds herself planted in the middle of a strange new home. AUTHOR’S NOTE: Okay this one is Kotallo's POV which I am extremely nervous about. I don't know how to feel about this but I'm just going to post because if I think on it too long I'll just delete it all. So let me know what you think. And also this is definitely going to be a slow burn, annoying acquaintances to friends to unrequited lovers to lovers so just like bear with me.

P A R T ◆ T H R E E

Half a dozen burrowers normally wouldn’t be an issue. If he’d been in the clan lands on his own, Kotallo wouldn’t have even hesitated tearing through each of them easily with his blade. But he’d spent little time in the area surrounding Plainsong and he had the handicap of the Utaru healer who barely stood higher than one of the machines. She was thin, slender enough that she could easily hide behind one of the trees that lined the path they’d been walking on and looked as if she might not even be able to properly draw the bow she carried with her. He couldn’t help but grimace at the idea of having to explain her death to the chief should one of the machines strike her down. It certainly wasn’t the outcome he wanted this early in his service as a marshal of the Tenakth.

He glanced at the girl one last time before maneuvering through the brush they’d hidden themselves in. Two burrowers were up on a ridge above them, heads turning in opposite directions as they searched for their targets. A third was patrolling the perimeter, skittering about through the grass. The one that had first spotted them was close, almost within striking range whether it be Kotallo or the machine dealing the blow. He held his breath as it whirred just a few feet away, the strange humming sound emanating as it moved closer to where he was hidden. Its head turned and he took the chance to move forward, bringing the blade down with a heavy blow to the neck of the machine before it had the chance to turn back and spot him. Sparks of energy flew from where metal cut metal and the machine crumbled with a loud thud that echoed through the area. Machine heads turned towards the noise, eyes turning red as they found him crouched near the carcass. Mumbling a curse to himself and the Ten, he gripped the blade tighter and readied himself to move.

Suddenly an arrow flew through the air, lodging itself just off center of the eye of the burrower a few yards away. It wasn’t enough to bring the machine down but it stumbled in its tracks, the impact enough of a distraction for him to bring it down with another hit. He wasn’t sure where the little Utaru had positioned herself and he didn’t take his eyes off the machines to look. He could only hope that she’d picked a safe spot to fire from and that her aim was good enough to provide a distraction while he made his way through them. And for a few minutes it did. Arrows landed as he closed the gaps to finish the job.

But then the last one swept his legs out from under him, sending him falling to the ground and his blade out of grasp. The wind was knocked out of him and he moved just quick enough to avoid a chunk of earth being thrown towards his head. Rolling in hopes of some distance and finding his blade, he found the spot where it had fallen vacant. There were no more arrows being fired from the distance and for a moment all he could think was that the Utaru had either fled back to Plainsong or had been struck down without him realizing. Another piece of earth flew towards him, grazing his side as he did his best to dodge.

A shout of exertion, the kind he’d heard many times before by warriors wielding weapons heavier than they were used to, and he watched in surprise as the little Utaru healer swung his blade down onto the final burrower with a strength he hadn’t expected. The blade struck the machine, bringing it down and damaging it enough for him to make it where she stood beside it and finish the job. Sparks flew into the grass as the machine went still, quiet settling over the clearing once more save for their heavy breaths.

They both stood there for a moment, catching their breath now that the dust had settled. Kotallo reached for his blade that she still held, taking it as she let go of the handle. Now he could see the quiver at her hip was empty, the bow she carried laying in the grass a few feet away. When he looked at her again, his gaze was curious though not judging the way he had when they’d first set out from Plainsong. It would’ve taken more strength than he’d expected of her to swing the blade like she had, to swing it and actually do damage. It was impressive and he couldn’t help but think maybe his first impression had been misguided.

“You didn’t hide.”

His words seemed to startle her out of her thoughts, though whether it was because of what he said or the fact that he’d said anything he wouldn’t pretend to know. She stood a little straighter, a sharpness settling in her features that reminded him of the sharp wings of a stormbird. Perhaps the healer was made of sturdier mettle than he’d thought. “Can only hide so long when those start searching,” she answered after a moment, her voice a bit raspier than when she’d been prattling along before. A teasing look appeared as she continued, “Besides, didn’t want to half to explain to all your friends that I let you get mauled by a couple of burrowers. Not a great first impression for me and not a great way to go for you.”

He scowled at her words , swinging the blade back into place on his back and making his way to the path. “Death at the mercy of burrowers is not my fate,” he grumbled, stopping next to a machine that had fallen to pull the arrows lodged in its body.

“Hey, you’re the one who got knocked on his ass by one. Not to mention a hunk of rock to the ribs.” She’d grabbed her bow as she followed after him, taking the arrows he’d retrieved and examining for a moment before placing them in the quiver. They made quick work collecting what was salvageable of her ammunition and then started on their trek once more. He could feel a lingering pain in his side, where the rock had hit ribs as she’d teased, but he stayed silent for the time being. The healer may have done well enough against the machines but he’d take the quiet over her queries even if it meant a bit of physical discomfort.

The silence didn’t last though and he couldn’t tell you if his scowl was from his bruised ribs or her returning questions as she asked, “So you gonna tell me your name or what? Because if you don’t I’m just going to wind up making one up. And I can tell you’re going to hate it.”

[sylverstorms]

Donna x Elena ----From Winter to Spring

This is a commission written for the lovely @saltwatereulogies and I cannot thank you enough for all your support! I hope you enjoy the story :)

She doesn’t know how she escaped that nightmarish inferno. How she still draws breath. Why her body keeps running despite its condition and despite the fact that she has lost everything.

The village is gone. Everyone she knew is either dead or a monster. She watched her own father growl like a beast and cleave a woman in half, then soon after wail out her name and succumb to the flames swallowing up the building. There is nothing left. There is nothing left for her.

Why? Elena wonders. A trail of blood marks her path through the snow, towards the unknown. Why still fight?

It will be easier to surrender to the agonizing burns, to the open gashes and wood splinters stuck in her skin. It will be far, far simpler to stop pressuring her rattling lungs to provide oxygen and fall into the snow, instead. It looks… peaceful. Soft. Pure.

It will welcome her to a quiet death, she thinks, so she may join her friends and her father.

Her father. The man who had never reached his hand out to help her when she fell –either on the fields or when she tripped over hardships— yet had always been there in his own stubborn, strict way, telling her to pick herself up.

“I didn’t raise no quitter.”

Ah, is that why.

Perhaps part of her feels it owes it to him to try. She did miraculously survive the fiery wreckage she’d initially thought would be her grave. But… the odds just aren’t with her.

Elena is only human. She’s lost too much blood, been through too much punishment. Her vision is growing blurrier by the second, her legs more sluggish. When she steps on grass instead of snow, she believes her mind is now playing tricks on her, too.

Something smells sweet, like wildflowers.

That is the last thing Elena is aware of, before she drops to her knees and blacks out.

-

-

When she blinks her eyes open, she is… confused.

She never thought heaven nor hell would have a wooden ceiling. She wouldn’t have guessed pain follows one into the afterlife, either, yet there she is, prone and throbbing with every weak breath on a bed too comfortable to be her own.

Unless…

Unless she’s not dead. Unless, against all odds, she survived a second time only to suffer some more. Elena wants to cry. What cruel game is the universe playing with her? The luck she never had in life is suddenly gracing her in extreme bursts now that she doesn’twant it.

“She’s awakeeee!” an overly excited voice exclaims somewhere around the room. Elena is too dizzy to tell.

“Shh.” A second presence makes itself known, calming the first.

“Who…” Who are you, Elena tries to say, but the words never make it past her dry throat.

Heels tap against the floor, until a black-clad figure comes to peer down at her. Elena expected to see the face of her savior, yet all she sees is a ghost, its visage hidden behind a mourning veil. The image is jarring; it sends her heartbeat skyrocketing, which doesn’t help her condition.

Oh, Lord, Oh, Lord what… Elena wants to tell herself she’s dreaming. It isn’t real, none of this is real—

Until a doll jumps into the edge of her bed and says something she doesn’t hear over the sound of her hoarse scream.

The ghost flinches backwards as the world turns dark once more.

-

-

The second time she opens her eyes, hours or days later, the pain has subsided somewhat.

Elena can feel her body, at least. All the wounded parts are carefully wrapped in gauzes and all her burns are covered by a soothing salve. Her lungs no longer hiss when she inhales, so long as she does so slowly, evenly.

That, of course, is not so easy to do when she turns to her left and sees the ghost sitting there, an open book in her lap. The veil is still on, obscuring her features, but Elena takes note of her fingers as they cradle the spine of the tome, long and pale, manicured black.

Appearances aside, there is a certain calm about her that doesn’t feel threatening.

“I… I’m not hallucinating, am I?” she whispers, not trusting her voice to go any higher.

The mystery woman tenses as though her voice has startled her. “…No.” she eventually replies. Her voice is quiet, like the rest of her.

“Did… you save me…?” A single nod is all she gets in return. Her company doesn’t seem very comfortable speaking, but Elena has questions that she needs answered. “Where am I?”

“The Beneviento estate.”

Elena would gasp if she could. I made it that far? And this woman… is she really Donna Beneviento? Her father told her all she needed to know about the four Lords residing at the outskirts of the village. He had also told her to avoid them at all costs.

“Um. I’m Elena—” A cough cuts her off. The sudden motion causes every injury across her body to burn.

“…I know.”

She is too much pain, in that moment, to ask how Donna knows.

-

-

In the following days, Elena comes to accept a few things that would have normally made her question her sanity;

The doll is alive. Her name is Angie and she is Donna’s friend. Donna is the adopted daughter of Mother Miranda, who, upon the former’s request, has given her permission for Elena to remain in the mansion. When she asked what would have happened had she denied, the doll only sing-songed that she doesn’t really want to know.

It still plagues her mind, probably because she has far too much time to think and this is the only thing she can focus on, lest she starts crying over and over again.

When Donna comes to change her bandages, it is a relief.

The woman sits at the edge of her bed, at the absolute maximum distance. Elena slowly brings her body to a semi-reclining position to assist. Angie hops on the bed and pulls the covers to the side… and that is when they arrive to a standstill. Donna doesn’t move, Elena doesn’t know what to do.

“Um. May I?” the veiled woman motions with her –admittedly very elegant— hands. It’s… endearing, how she approaches the subject of touching her.

Elena nods and tries to be a good patient for her. Tries being the key word. When she’s not fighting for her life, she is not nearly as brave in the face of pain. Her teeth are gritted as Donna’s cool hands unwrap the gauzes at her right arm, her eyes closed, breath held.

“…Am I hurting you?” Donna asks, quiet as ever.

“No.” Elena forces herself to exhale. “No, you’re… very gentle.”

Donna nods and continues with the same measured movements. Elena doesn’t want to look at her wounds, afraid of what she’ll find there, so she turns to the veiled visage of her companion. She wishes she could see her face. Wonders what she may look like, what flaw she’s trying to hide.

Until a bandage catches on a particularly bad burn and Elena cries out.

Her whole body jumps—

Donna’s hands fly to her shoulders, keeping her steady with surprising strength, yet she steps away the very next second as though she’s been scorched.

Elena bites her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. There you go, making her uncomfortable…

Angie takes over for a while, also quite precise. Elena peeks down to realize she isn’t in as terrible a condition as she may have imagined. Scars will be left, no doubt, but she will probably heal well enough.

Then the last difficult spot comes up. She knows it when Angie warns: “You need to stay still here.”

“No, no wait!” Elena pleads. “I—I can’t.” I can’t, I can’t deal with this again, not again—

But Donna sits back next to her and her mere presence calms her down. “You are very strong, Elena. This is the last one.” she says.

“Hold me down.” Elena requests.

Donna doesn’t seem to like the idea. Still, she slowly brings her hand back over the uninjured part of Elena’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright.” she whispers.

“On three.” Angie says. “One… Two…”

She pulls the bandage on two and Elena would jump high enough to burst through the ceiling if it wasn’t for Donna. When the agony subsidies she realizes she’s sobbing helplessly, clutching at the dollmaker’s sleeves for dear life.

“Shh, I’m sorry, it’s over now. It’s over.” Donna’s slender fingers comb through her unruly hair.

The brunette closes her eyes and lets her head drop back down into her pillow, but she doesn’t let go of the dollmaker right away. She smells like the flowers outside her house,she thinks.

She feels like a safe space, steady, in a world that’s broken and tilted for Elena.

-

-

Gradually, Donna talks to her more. Gradually, Elena tests her body’s limits until she is strong enough to walk around the house on her own.

Angie is with her, most of the time, but she knows it’s less a security measure and more one for her safety. Her mental connection to Donna is something Elena cannot grasp nor understand, but she tries to.

The first time she manages to get to the living room, Elena stops and stares at the painting of Donna adorning the wall opposite her.

“…is that her?” she asks Angie.

“Of course!” the doll replies excitedly. “I am so proud of that one, the artist did a great job! Mistress Donna looks splendid, but it is me who steals the show!”

Elena can’t look away from the canvas. Why is she so familiar…? “Is that what she looks like?”

“Well, excluding a scar she wishes to hide. Kind of like my face. We match.” Angie answers, giving her version of a grin.

For the rest of the day, Elena sneaks glances at Donna, then the painting. It isn’t proper, she knows, but she’s curious. And… surely, no scar is enough to justify hiding that cute face from the world?

-

-

Weeks pass. Elena has healed well and she owes it all to Donna.

The two of them have grown closer in the time the former’s injuries have forced them together, close enough to have tea in the mornings and brief chats over common interests throughout the day.

When the weather grows a tad warmer, Elena asks the dollmaker to take a stroll with her outside. She sees the decorated graves, of course, but she knows better than to ask. She doesn’t want their time to be poisoned by grief. The scars of losing loved ones run deep, she knows this too well and they never really heal.

The two of them are basking in comfortable silence for a while, until a thought that feels impossible not to be voiced strikes Elena.

“Donna.” she speaks.

“Hm?”

“When I first woke up and I told you my name… you said ‘I know’.”

“…yes.”

“I’m sure we’ve never met before…?” Elena stops and turns to face her companion. Donna mirrors her.

“How certain are you?” she asks. Upon Elena’s obvious confusion, she elaborates; “As a child, I used to visit the village with my father. In one of those visits, some of the kids made fun of my scar. A boy, especially, was saying some very mean things.”

Elena starts to recall one such incident in the blurry images of her childhood.

“You stopped him.” Donna says. Pauses. “…with a punch to the face.”

Elena raises a hand to her mouth, but a quick laugh escapes her anyway. “I did?” A nod. “No way.”

“You did.”

“It couldn’t have been a strong one, though.” Elena giggles.

“I don’t know. Rumor has it he still hasn’t gotten up, to this day…” The little exhale of a chuckle that escapes Donna makes something in Elena bloom and flutter.

She wants nothing more in that moment than to lift the damned veil and see the face of the gentlest, kindest woman she’s ever met.

-

-

The winter eventually gives way to spring. The earth heals from the wounds of the cold like Elena has, under Donna’s care.

She no longer has doubts about what she feels, what she wants. It is only a matter of overcoming her fears and nervousness. Only a matter of finding the right timing and the appropriate setting.

Elena has rehearsed the words she needs to say many times in her dreams and thoughts, yet she finds herself tongue-tied and completely lost on what to do in reality. She has asked Donna to walk with her, taken her to where the waterfall calms into a river… and now struggles to summon her voice.

“What is it, Elena?” Donna, ever the sweetheart, asks. “You know you can tell me anything… right?”

“What if…” she hesitantly begins. “What if I can’t tell you? …can I show you, instead?”

“Of course.”

Elena takes a deep breath and chastises herself to woman up. One little step brings her into Donna’s personal space. Her hand raises to the edge of the veil, blue eyes searching for a sign she should stop. The dollmaker is tense, but she hasn’t made a move to back away, nor lower Elena’s hand.

She trusts her.

And that’s all Elena needs to finally, finally remove the barrier separating them for months. The cute girl she defended as a child is a beautiful woman now, looking back at her with gentle, dark eyes. The jagged scar running down the right side of her face does nothing to retract from that beauty.

“You don’t need that.” she breathes. “You never did.”

Donna glances to the side, a hint of color spreading over her pale cheeks. Elena chases her chin with her fingers, then slowly inches closer, making sure the dollmaker has ample time to decide if she wants this, too.

When their lips meet, color blooms behind her shut eyelids, within her chest. Donna’s mouth is as soft and sweet as her personality, Elena discovers. It is a short, chaste kiss but it is also a promise for many more to come.

It is the gratitude Elena will eternally hold for Donna, who found her at the ending of her life and nursed her back to this,

A new beginning.

[djarinbarnes]

me olvidarás - one

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Pairings: Javier Peña x female reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Warnings for the chapter: vivid sex dream, masturbation... faceless javi. I apologize. I just want to get to the good stuff! :D 

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: an undeniable warm summer vacation in Bogotá. simply trying to get away from your nosey, boring parents and live for once, you meet a man who impresses you beyond where your imagination could ever take you.

a/n: first of all, I'd like to thank @demoneyesanddamagedsouls​ for being there for me through the whole writing process of this story so far. With her on the side, constantly hyping me up and giving me feedback, I've written over 5 chapters of this already. The full chapter count for this story hasn't been decided yet. I'll see where it goes <3 Second of all.... enjoy <3

series masterlist

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You hated being back. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was his eyes peering into yours from above. The mustache resting on his upper lip tickling your inner thighs, your neck, your forehead as he trailed kisses down your nose. You wished for the gods to take you back to Colombia. Back to him.

You remembered everything vividly - his hands on your body, the way they held you and the way they warmed your skin as they made their way over your body. There was no point in hiding it. You were completely and utterly in love with him.

It’d been no more than a week since you’d left Bogotá. Since you’d left him. You knew he was busy with his job, but the little he’d called you was somewhat unsettling. You waited for something - anything to happen to let you know he still thought of you - that you weren’t just a summer fling to him.

It came on a random Tuesday evening, and the way it showed itself… Well you could’ve avoided that. You’d just gotten home from one of your daily walks, where you found the proper time and space to think over the things that had happened, when you found your mother in the kitchen, postcard in hand.

The look on your mother’s face let you know exactly what was written on the postcard. “So that was what you were doing all summer, huh?” you felt the redness blooming in your cheeks as she waved it around. “Or should I say this,” she pointed to the scribbles. “Was who you were doing?”

Your eyes widened. Under normal circumstances your mother would’ve never addressed you like that. But you could see she was furious. She had been on your toes every day during your stay in Bogotá about the mystery guy who had drawn you away from them. “Who is he, then?”

You swallowed past the thick lump in your throat as you came to the conclusion, she had no business going through your stuff or reading your mail. “Mom!” You easily snatched the postcard from her hand, much to her dismay. “You can’t just…” you sigh before hiding the postcard behind your back. “He was… just a guy.”

The truth couldn’t be further from the words that had just left your lips. He wasn’t just a guy. No, he wasn’t a guy, he was a man. A man that had shown every crevice of your body pleasure like no one had ever done before. You felt your body react to just the thought about him, and it made you shudder.

You knew your mother would never believe any of the words you were currently trying to defend yourself with. You gave up with a sign and turned on your heel, walking through the house you called home and into the bedroom.

With the slam of your door, you finally looked properly at the postcard in your hand. You recognized the city of Bogotá easily.

Turning the card over in your hand you suck your lip in between your teeth, recollecting every feeling that flowed through your body with his lips against yours, his skin against yours, your bodies moving together as one.

You knew who had sent the card, even though there wasn’t any sender on it. The scribbled Spanish let you know, and boldly enough.

Parece que el destino nos ha juntado aposta. Yo sueño que estás cerca, tan cerca, aquí en mi camita durmiendo contigo, porque estoy pensando en ti otra vez

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

a month earlier

Summer break. God, how you dreaded summer break. Your parents had finally decided to leave the state for vacation, and you were excited to go somewhere you hadn’t been before.

When they had told you about the vacation, you had been overjoyed. Finally, your parents had decided to be a little lively, to go somewhere that wasn’t just safe and sound.

You felt excited when they told you the duration of the vacation as well, and you just couldn’t wait to get going.

Three weeks in Bogotá. It was like a dream come true. You knew some things about Colombia, and the whole corruption of the police and the drug trading from college. It had caught your interest then, and it still intrigued you to get to know more about the city. And since you possibly got to explore some of the city yourself, you were even happier.

You started packing right after your parents told you, to make sure you had everything you needed when you had to travel. They had let you know that the hotel had a pool, so one of the first things in your bag was, of course, your favorite bikini.

You were definitely going to suck up some rays to fill your cells with the D-vitamin. You knew the air was going to be stuffy, humid and warm, but that didn’t make any difference for you at all. You would say you had prepared yourself from home, but there were just some things you never could prepare for.

You were slowly counting down the days until your departure, and you felt more and more excited as the days passed. At the same time, you were nervous. Nervous about the people in general, nervous about meeting new people.

The whole people thing wasn’t really you, and you silently prayed that your parents wouldn’t force you into meeting people you didn’t want to, like they usually did when you were out and about.

Come and meet our friends, they have a son about your age. Maybe you could grow to like each other.

Sure thing.

What your parents didn’t know was, that boys your age didn’t turn you on in the slightest. Quite the contrary, though. There was no legitimate reason for you to be into older men, since you had barely even spoken to men. But from what you had seen in telenovelas to practice your Spanish, the men over 30 definitely spoke to you in another way than younger guys did.

There was something flawlessly sensual about men with stubbles and slight wrinkles encapsulating their eyes, and right now Rafael Novoa was occupying your mind a little bit more than necessary. The whole idea of meeting an older man, an experienced man made your toes and fingers tingle.

You often dreamed about a faceless older man, coming to rescue you for whatever reason your subconsciousness decided to make up, and you loved and cherished those dreams so much. It was wild - your body being able to make you soaking wet, bringing you on the edge of orgasms by just imagining a man in between your legs, often causing you to wake up, startled by an orgasm.

It was an all new feeling, and it kind of scared you. You didn’t really know why you suddenly imagined such raunchy and vivid sexual encounters with men you never saw the face of - but you weren’t one to complain. You secretly hoped - prayed - that your dreams would come every night.

On the very last night before you were due to leave for Colombia with your parents, you had yet another dream. One that left you wanting more, one that left nothing to the imagination. You didn’t remember how it started, but you did know exactly how it ended. And god, if you weren’t seeking that out if you got the chance.

Fingers tangled with someone elses fingers, pressed into the grass above your head - you’re moaning wantonly as the unfamiliar face hidden in the dark leaves lingering, deep kisses against your neck, their hips pressing forcefully into yours, a thick cock deeply imbedded into your core.

Your leg is drawn around their hips, urging them closer and closer, impossibly closer as you breathe out into the night, the soft squelching sound from between you filling your ears along with deep groans, letting you know just the effect you had on the person above you.

Their hips grind into yours, their pelvis grinding forcefully right into your clit, drawing sweet, sweet pleasure into your abdomen, an unfamiliar coil tightening in your belly. You whimper out as the faceless person brings their mouth on top of yours, pushing their tongue into the warmth of your mouth, searching out yours in the darkness.

Then everything turns white - and you wake up in cold sweat, your pussy forcefully convulsing around nothing as you sit up in your bed, brought back to reality, even though you weren’t ready to leave your fantasy just yet. You wanted to see the person your mind had made up, wanted to see who brought you so much pleasure you could come from just imagining it.

You tried closing your eyes, desperate to see something - anything - yet the face never showed itself. Your sheets felt clammy as they stuck to your sweaty thighs and you quickly threw them off yourself before you fan your hands in front of your face, let down by what just happened. God, you wanted to feel that again.

You dart out of bed and into your bathroom, taking in the blush creeping up your neck before you quickly discard your pyjamas, taking a hurried shower to wash the sweat off your body. You don’t want to spend much time in the bathroom that morning, simply wanting to get out into the fresh air outside.

Yet your fingers find their way between your legs as you close your eyes, imagining the same thing you had dreamt just minutes before, as you dip your finger into your wet pussy, your other hand bracing yourself against the wall. You can feel the slick that had come from your dream, and you bite your lip as another finger joins the first easily, and before you know it, yet another.

You had no idea you were able to fit three of your fingers inside of you, yet here you were, and you found yourself quickly approaching the edge where you were sure you were going to fall off. Your thumb circled your clit rapidly, causing your legs to shake as you came on your fingers, your lip tugged in between your teeth to stifle the noise. You quickly cleaned yourself and your fingers before finishing your shower, eager to get going.

The whole drive to the airport, the waiting and the stuffiness of the plane had caused your head to throb, and you silently counted down the hours until you were free of other people. The hours felt excruciatingly slow as you braced yourself on the armrests of the plane, trying to get in an hour of sleep to ease your head.

Nothing worked though. The sound of screaming from a small child had your ears ringing, and even though you felt bad for both the kid and the parents, you had no surplus energy to allow yourself to feel bad. You just felt annoyed. And your ears had popped upon ascend - that didn’t make anything better.

When the plane finally touched down on Colombian ground, you silently cheered while others clapped. Who the fuck claps on a plane? You rolled your eyes as you found your bag in the overhead storage, desperate to get out of the plane quickly. You sighed as you remembered you had to wait for your luggage inside the airport as well.

The whole waiting for your luggage thing went quickly, and within an hour you were unlocking the door to the rented apartment your parents had taken care of. It was small but charming - a tiny kitchenette, a small living room and another room where you suspected the bedroom to be. The bathroom was also tiny, but you didn’t mind. It was a beautiful place.

You pulled your luggage into your bedroom, digging through the suitcases for your sunscreen and a cardigan, pulling it on quickly before leaving your parents to settle in as you ventured out into the bustling streets of Colombia. You don’t know how much time you spent wandering around, but you found something to eat along the way before you made your way back to your apartment as it started to get dark out.

You quickly grew bored in your own company, so when you remembered a bar you had passed on your way home, you quickly went over the options you had before you decided to prep your face in the bathroom, switching your ordinary bra out with a bralette and throwing a silver, sequined top on along with a black skirt. You paired it with some flats - it was Colombia after all, and you weren’t that good at running in heels if it came to it.

You pushed a few things into your handbag before you snuck out of the dark apartment, noticing the darkness of your parent’s on the opposite side of the small garden that separated the two. The door locked easily, and you quickly ventured out into the night, desperately hoping for some adventure to find you.

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next chapter

[americancowgirl19]

Yours Forever

Summary: You and Riley get to know each other on a more... personal level.

Warnings: smut, fluff

Reader: Human Female Plus Sized Cullen Reader

Pairings: Riley Biers x Female Plus Sized Reader

Word Count: 2,310

A/n: This was requested by @fyeahtaylorp -  Hi so I was the one Who requested the Riley biers plus size human Cullen imagine. I loved it like it was amazing ❤️. I was wondering if you could do a part two with more flirting and protective dominate Riley and there is smut if you do smut and the reader could be female by chance. If not that’s ok but thank you I love your writing. 😊 - I’m glad you enjoyed the first part! I’m sorry if it wouldn’t let me tag you. If anybody want me to rewrite this as a male reader, let me know! I hope you enjoy this one! I love writing for Riley.

Masterlist - Part One (So Much More) - Part Three (Our Little Family - Female Reader)

“If you’re not amazed by the stars on a clear night, we won’t work.” You tease Riley. The pair of you were laying on a blanket looking up at the stars. Well, you were star gazing while Riley seemed distracted. 

You can see him watching you in your peripheral vision. You’ve noticed that he likes to do that a lot. More often than not you find him staring at you. Sometimes he has a curious expression or that coy little smirk of his.

You turn your head to meet his look. He doesn’t seem curious nor flirtatious. He has a small content smile on his face. His eyes hold a softness that you’re not used too but slowly coming accustomed too. You’ve never had a man look at you like Riley. Hell, you’ve never been around a man like Riley. 

“Is that so?” Riley muses. You grin as his amorous smirk returns to his face. Your heart flutters when he uses his speed to move from beside you to above you. His hands rest on either side of your face, trapping you below him “And what if I said that I’ve found something far more stunning than any star in the sky to be amazed by?” He hums.

“Oh, really?” You whisper, trying not to show him how effected you are by his words. Of course, he sees right through you as your heart betrays your ‘collectiveness’. 

Riley hums again and lowers his head. You wait for his lips to meet yours but he dodges them and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. Your eyes go back to the stars as you instinctively move your head to the side. Riley growls in approval at your willingness to expose your neck to him.

Your hands reach up to grip his shirt when his lips leave light sporadic kisses along your skin. You pull on him, wanting to close the little gap between you. He smirks resting between your legs. You shiver at the coolness of his body but hook your legs around his in an attempt to keep him from leaving you.

“You are more dazzling than the stars in the night and more radiant than the sun,” He whispers, lifting his head. His sparkling eyes with a mixture of red an bronze stare down at you. You found the color beautiful just like the rest of him.

Your family had made sure that he understood that if he wished to live in Forks he would have to adapt to their diet. He hated it but would endure it for you. The pair of you had been together for not even a year and Riley has yet to find a single thing he wouldn’t do for you. It excited him, this feeling. It was so much more than he ever felt toward Victoria.

“Gaze at the stars all you want, baby girl. I’d much rather look at you.” He whispers.

“For a man who is as beautiful as diamonds, I’m sure you can find something more-” You don’t get to finish. His lips press to yours. Your head spins as he kisses you deeply, pushing you further into the blanket covered grass.

“What did I tell you about talking bad about yourself?” Riley mutters against your lips. Your only answer is a release of a shaky breath. “You’re everything to me, baby girl. I don’t like it when you talk like that,”

“I’m sorry,” You whisper to him.

“I know,” Riley purrs. His arrogant grin spreads across his face. He slowly moves down your body. His nose trailing along your neck and over your bare chest to your clothed breasts. “It’s alright, baby girl, we’ll make you see how beautiful you are soon enough,” He promises, kissing your stomach.

“Riley,” You whine, wiggling under him. He inhales deeply. His eyes rolling back at your sweet scent. He could smell your arousal and it only made you more mouthwatering.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, lifting his head to look into your eyes. You stare into the eyes of the man, of the vampire you’re irrecoverably in love with and nod. He continues to stare at you as he travels back up your body. “Maybe if I love you under the stars you find so beautiful you’ll finally see that you’re worth more than anything in the world,”

“You want to... Out here?” You whisper, your eyes widening.

“There’s no one around,” He whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “It’s just us,” He mutters, nipping at your neck. “And I want you so badly,” He growls grinding his hips down into yours. Moaning, you push your hips up to his needing more friction. 

“What if someone...” Your voice fades into a whine when he suckles harshly on a spot of skin behind your ear.

“Do you think I’d ever let someone see what is mine?” He asks you. “Anyone who sees you like this will have to answer to me and I will not be merciful,” He growls. “You’re mine and I’ll be the only one to see you like this. To hear those noises you make when I pleasure you in a way only I can,” You moan, your pussy clenching around nothing as he growls the words into your ear. “Do you want me, baby girl?” You whine, gripping his shirt even tighter. “Is that a yes or no?” He smirks.

“Yes, Riley!” You snap, grabbing his head. His eyes return to yours. “I want you.” You tell him, lifting your lips up to his. “Please,” You whine. He finally allows the kiss to connect. His hand reaching for his shirt. You pull away just long enough for him to strip his shirt off. You hum, reaching out to touch his chest.

“All for you, baby” Riley winks. You blush. Your hands grab his shoulders. He lets you pull him back down to you. He kisses you slowly, his hand brushing hair strands out of your face. “I love you,” He whispers.

“I love you, too” You whisper back to him. His eyes stare at your face before traveling down. He sits up on his knees and grabs the end of your shirt. His knuckles graze along you soft warm skin as he lifts it. You sit up long enough for him to pull the shirt over your head.

You struggle against your instinct to hide from him. You’re exposed to his wondering eyes. All you want to do is roll up in the blanket under you but you don’t. You do, however, avoid looking at him. You look up at the stars and wonder how someone like him could even compare you to their beauty.

“You’re so gorgeous,” He whispers to himself but loud enough for your ears to hear. He lowers down and kisses your stomach. Your breathing escalates as he massages your sides and nips at your skin. You whine as he grows rougher.

He couldn’t get enough of you. He loved every inch of you. He loved how your skin reddened with every squeeze and bite. He loved the breathless noises you made when you became more sensitive to his touch. 

You gasp when your bra is ripped off of your body and your pants are torn down your legs. Your eyes lock with his. Your not intimidated by the blackness of his irises. You trusted him with your life and knew he wouldn’t take things too far.

“Do you understand what you do to me?” Riley wonders. He falls back on top of you, he hands stopping him from completely collapsing on you. “I wonder who between us has that vampiric allure when every single thing about you draws me in like a moth to a flame.”

“I-” Whatever words you were going to say die in your throat as he shuffles down your body. You breath hitches as he drags your panties down your body with his teeth leaving you completely exposed. A cool breeze sends goosebumps across your body. Riley growls, his eyes soaking up the sight of your painfully erect nipples.

“Absolutely perfect,” Riley growls lowering between your legs. Your legs try to close but Riley effortlessly forces them to part. He smirks, his face nearing your sweet piece of heaven.

Your jaw drops and your back arches as he licks and suckles your cut like a man dying of thirst. You writhe on the blanket. Your hips attempt to grind against his face but his hands hold you down.

His lips circle around you clit giving it special attention. You try to stay quiet but it was beginning to become impossible. Riley mercilessly eats you out, his hands bruising your hips. He doesn’t stop until your convulsing through your orgasm.

“Good girl,” He whispers, against your skin. He laps at your cunt before kissing up your body. “You taste better than blood... A man could become addicted to your delicious pussy,” He growls against your skin.

“It’s all yours... Only yours,” You breathe, recovering slowly.

“Your damn right,” He growls. Grinding his clothed cock against your sensitive clit. Your cry turns into a moan. “You belong to me. Every delicious curve, every beautiful moan, and every mouthwatering orgasm is mine.” You whimper as his hips grind even harder against yours.

“Please,” You beg. “Riley, I need you,”

“Oh, do you?” He asks, looking into your eyes. His head bumps against your lightly. He nips at your bottom lip. “I don’t believe you,”

“Please, please, please,” You scrounge. “I need it, I need you”

“And what do you need from me, my beautiful girl?” He asks, tilting his head. “A kiss? More friction? Ooorr... Something else?” He wonders. You whine, squirming when his hips still. “I’m not a mind reader, babe-”

“Your cock!” You exclaim. “I want your cock, please give it to me”

“Alright, alright, no need to panic. I’ve got what you need,” He grins. He shimmies out of his pants. You shyly look down at it. “Do you think you’re wet enough for me?” He ask, teasing your slit with the tip. “Don’t want to hurt you too badly,” He mutters, shoving two of his fingers inside of you without a warning.

“Ah, Riley,” You moan, grinding into his hand. His eyes remain glued to your face, watching as your expression shifts and twists. His thumb reaches up to brush along your clit while his fingers massage your special spot within your pussy. “Please, please, please,” You whisper like a prayer.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Riley mutters, pulling his hand. You whine. “No, not yet, baby girl.” He coats his cock with your juices before pushing his fingers into your mouth. Your eyes connect with his as you suckle on them like a lollypop. 

Your mouth opens with a gasp when he pushes inside of you. His fingers leave your mouth and wrap around your neck. Your hand grips his wrist as he squeezes your throat just enough to make breathing difficult but not impossible.

“God, I could spend every day buried deep inside of you,” He growls bottoming out inside of you. Your legs hook around him as your pussy milks his cock. “You were made just for me. Mine.” He growls in your ear. Pulling in and out of you in short thrusts.

“So good... You feel so good,” You whisper. Riley kisses your shoulder before rolling onto his back, pulling you onto his chest.

“Sit up. Nice and tall, gorgeous.” Riley whispers to you, releasing your throat. You look at him anxiously. “Go on... I want to see you, beautiful girl.” Hesitantly, you sit up and sink down onto him further. Your head rolls back as you moan deeply. “There you are,” He whispers, his hands gripping you love handles. “Look at me,” Your eyes look from the stars to him.

He lifts your hips forcing you to move up and down. After a moment, you don’t need his help and begin to move on your own. You grab his hands, your fingers intertwining with his. You use them as leverage and begin to move faster. 

You gasp, moaning as his hips thrust up to meet your pace. You become more desperate the closer your climax comes. Riley flips the two of you quickly and drills into you like a mad man. You cry out and clench around him as your release harder than before. Riley’s release follow seconds after you.

“You are beyond compare,” Riley whispers in your ear. He tenderly presses kisses along your jaw.

“I love you, Riley” You whisper, threading your fingers through his hair. He smiles against your neck.

“I love you more, baby girl” He whispers, pulling back. You wince as he pulls out of you. He uses the blanket to clean up before pulling his clothes on and helping you into yours.

“You owe me a new bra,” You say holding up your torn one. He gives you a sheepish smile and helps you stand.

“I’ll get you anything you want,” He promises, holding you against his chest. “As long as you promise to be mine forever,”

“Give me a ring, your last name and I will be,” You wink at him. Riley grins connecting his lips with yours.

“Would a ring like this do the trick?” Riley wonders, pulling out a ring from his pocket, glad it hadn’t fallen out. He gently grabs your hand and slips it onto your finger.

“It’s perfect,” You whisper to him.

“So... Is that a yes?” Riley asks, caressing your cheek while holding your hand.

“Of course, I’ll marry you,” You whispers, pressing your lips against his. He grins deepening the kiss. He picks you up and spins you around. “Looks like I’m yours forever,”

“Finally,” Riley whispers, staring into your eyes with that coy yet awestruck look on his face.

[saphirered]

Hi! I really love the stuff you've been writing for Molly!! It's so engaging and really sweet and makes me smile really wide, so thank you for that! If you're still taking requests, could I request a romantic Molly x Reader who's a druid/bard multiclass? Who has the same vibes as a Disney princess? I hope you have a great day and I can't wait to see what you write next!!

Aw shucks thank you so much ☺️. I hope this is to your liking. Enjoy 😘

The parade to draw people into the carnival was coming to an end. You were almost back at the tent and had gathered a proper crowd to watch the night’s show. Along the way you did your acrobatics and used some druidcraft to create little flowers in the palm of your hand or letting colourful floral vines bloom throughout your hair and attire. The whole look made you appear like an ethereal creature from the Feywild, perhaps even at the Seelie Court itself. 

Children giggle as you wave at them, snowflakes fall only to melt before they reach the ground. Dancing around you had fun and eventually found your ‘Fire Faerie’ friend. Together you twist and turn in a carefully practiced routine. A cloud of petals floats around you until Orna sets them ablaze, the embers blowing up in the breeze with a soft casting of Gust from you. People laugh and cheer as you both curtsied and move on your way through the crowd. 

You find Molly juggling his iridescent shimmering scimitars. Announcing your presence you dance around him just barely out of reach from the sharp blades. He nearly drops one in surprise, not expecting you to step so close but recovers quickly and it seems either no one noticed or they expected it to be part of the act. He sends you a half smile and a wink as you twist and turn around him avoiding the blades by a hair’s width humming a sweet melody. Gasps came from the people around as you narrowly avoid the scimitar from cutting through you like butter. 

You stop and take a slower pace to fall back a little bit, run and with the momentum, leap onto Molly’s shoulders in a handstand as he continued to walk. You let a couple of the flowery vines weave into his horns as he laughs and you flip over landing ahead of him. Looking over your shoulder you blow him a kiss with a wink as he continues juggling. You continue your routine with the song, the melody turning into a beautiful song people follow behind you as if you were the piped piper. Each time you take your next step you leave behind a path of colourful wildflowers. 

Toya had been feeling a bit under the weather so, you were to take over her act for the night. All dressed in flowy chiffons of greens, blues, purple and golds held together by felted vines and silk flowers, glittery exaggerated makeup, hair braided and teased you’re ready to take on your role. Your devil at your side usual clothes exchanged for dark ashen robes and features contoured in such a way to give him an even more devilishly handsome look. 

“And our next story, comes from far away. The fires of hell know one loyal to Zariel herself! A trickster, traitor and danger to all. One should know better than make a deal with this devil…” You hear from behind the curtain Gustav begins your introduction.

“That’s my cue. Let’s give them a show worth remembering.” Molly kisses your knuckles before his lips meet yours and he’s off by the time you open your eyes. Taking a few deep breaths you wait for the ‘story’ to continue.

“They say a devil’s heart cannot be tamed. They must never have met the Summer Princess! Blessed from the Feywild, what is beautiful is most dangerous and they are no exception. The Summer Princess walks among the Seelie Courts but those who pay careful attention may just hear their song. Be warned, they are much more treacherous than the devil…” Peaking through the curtain just so no one can see you focus on the support beams of the tent and begin casting your spell. Blooming vines creep up the beams wrapping around, flowers drape down. Petals begin to fall down from the ceiling provided by the Knot Sisters from the shadows. You hear gasps as people look around. 

You see Molly walk around, sword dragging in the dirt as you hear him growl at the plants. Time to sing and sing you do. 

The people look around as you tend to the flowers near one post ‘oblivious’ of the presence ‘in your garden’. You interact with some of the people in the front row offering them smiles and making flowers sprout around where they sit, offer an airy touch of the cheek of the poor individuals entranced by your song, unable to keep their eyes off you as they cling onto every word. 

Your song speaks of the beauties of the Feywild. Making use of your training you belt. Birds fly into the tent, swirling around you, the devil watching, his face turning from anger to bewilderment as he sticks to the shadows. You reach your hand to the sky mimicking the melody of the songbirds. Stretching your arms to the side one by one they land. You let them sing replying in a song of your own as if you’re having a conversation with them. 

Molly steps out from the shadows and into the light around you. You hear whispers from the audience ‘watch out’, ‘he’s behind you’ and ‘the devil is coming for the princess’. You continue your song walking along the audience, birds still resting on your arms as you sing with them. Next you turn the edge of the blade of ‘the devil’ is pointed at you and you act surprised, your song stopping for just a moment. 

“What are you?” Molly growls showing his fangs as he does fully committing to his role. You can’t help but hide a smile. Such a lover of theatrics. 

“I’m the Summer Princess and you, handsome devil are in my garden.” You sing, the blade drops a little before it raises closer to you. 

“Do not think you can charm me, wild enchantress.” You hum to the birds and they give a reply. 

“I charm only those willing to listen to my song. Are you willing, handsome devil of mine, walking in my garden.” You harmonise with the birds. They leap into flight circling around you and Molly closer and closer until you’re standing toe to toe. 

“Your song is sweeter than temptation, more treacherous than this devil’s words.” You move your hand to stroke his cheek as you do flowers and vines similar to the ones in your hair begin growing in his much like a crown. You may have overdone it a bit but Molly would see later what piece of art you left for him to remind him of your act. 

“Then join me handsome devil, and let the wildflowers keep our secret.” You tilt your head as if you were going to kiss him speaking the last words. You step back, hand outstretched looking at him with bright eyes. Molly’s hand stretches out towards you as you set pack. 

“Come with me, my handsome devil.” You sing as he begins following you with slow paces. Gustav comes around once more. 

“And so the Summer Princess tames the heart of their handsome devil. Their charm never fails and they are as treacherous as they are beautiful still. Take care to stay out of their garden or you might just end up like their handsome devil…”

————————————————————————

After a successful evening show you sit at the camp attempting to remove the vines and flowers from your hair and clothes. They look beautiful but are an absolute hell to get rid of and leaving them in isn’t really an option. As far as you could tell you successfully got rid of all the vines and flowers without harming the delicate silk greens, purples blues and yellow golds of your show costume which left you with your hair. 

Not even half way through with the moon high in the sky you give up with an exasperated sigh and let yourself fall backwards onto the soft grass. Most of the others had gone to bed already or found the bottom of a bottle so you’d find no help there. The calmness and quiet of starry night brings comfort to your mind and you start to drift off a bit. Your ears still manage to catch the familiar footfalls approaching you and your pile of discarded flowers. What you didn’t expect was about a hand or two full of flowers hitting you in the face. 

Opening your eyes you saw Mollymauk standing above you with half grin. By the looks of him he had attempted to get the flowers from earlier out of his hair but struggled just as much as you had and given up halfway through. He hadn’t gone about it as carefully as you though so the purple knotted mess sticking out at odd angles made him look rather funny and you stifle a giggle as you get to your feet. He puts his hands on his hips.

“You think this is funny? I swear, if I didn’t know any better I’d really believe Gustav’s story, you little Archfey!” He speaks exasperated as you pulled away some ivy circled around one of his horns with a laugh dropping it with the pile you had created. 

“Of course I think it’s funny, my handsome devil.” You patted his cheek and took one of his hands with your free one pulling him with you to sit down on the grass. Kneeling in front of him you begin untangling the vines and removing the flowers using your fingers to brush through, carefully pick apart and untangle the mess he had created. Once you are done and just brushing through his hair making sure you didn’t miss anything and to get it back to its usual state he takes your hands and presses a delicate kiss to your palms. 

“Turn around?” The words come out more as a question but you do and sit between his legs as he starts carefully detangling the vines from your own hair muttering a sorry and kissing your shoulder every time he either has to or accidentally pulls on your hair to take them out. It took him a while but eventually all the vines and flowers are gone and you’re just sat, leaning back against him, listening to sounds of the early early morning and the faint light barely visible from the town you’re set up outside off in the fields. 

Molly’s arms wrap around your waist and his head leaning on your shoulder as he hums a tune all too familiar to you. You elbow his stomach looking at him with a fake scowl. He kisses your scowl away and begin humming along with him, a flock of birds dancing overhead as you do. Surrounded by warmth and comfort you both slowly let the exhaustion consume you as the first lights of dawn draw upon the horizon. 

[mimiwrites2000]

Fire and Rain

First Aruani Snippet! thank you all for submitting prompts!

AO3 ~~

Pairings: Armin x Annie

Words count: 2212

Summary:

Fire

Igniting from within herself

Rain

Pouring, cold on her skin

And just like any other human, she has a limit as well.

She cries, on their bed, alone.

Until the door creaks open, and he walks in.

Annie is facing a new feeling that she never experienced before, jealousy, and her insecurities only fuel it.

However, Armin knows exactly how to blow these insecurities away.

And so he does.

Unfamiliar.

Foreign.

The shiny-new novelty of it is shocking, unexpected.

And yet there she is. No denying can change it, no distractions can tame it.

The fire inside her unbearably massive, flames dancing to the drums in her chest, beating with every breath she takes, pouring more fuel on it, breathing rage into it.

She doesn’t want it to extinguish.

The fire seethes and scathes, boiling inside of her, threatening to spill out of her, burning down their bed, their room, their whole house, out the door and all around the neighborhood.

She wants the whole world to hear her screaming pain, she wants it to burn and crumble and shred into pieces.

Just like her.

Her insides screamed until their throats bleed. When no sounds came out, their fury trekked to their hands, legs, fuming and thrashing everything into dust, destroying everything with their wild rage.

And the fire burgeons, devouring her whole, until she is swallowed in red, an angry orange, and straying, out-of-their-place golden sparks.

Those golden sparks that glimmer in shades of red.

Matching the red spark in her eyes.

The pouring, salty rain, spilling out her eyes, unhurriedly putting the fire down. Cold tears that went down her cheeks, onto their pillow, left nothing but a confined fire underneath a wet, burnt land. The smell of rain drops with the char pungent to her nose, unbearably painful to breathe, impossible to breathe.

Her jaw clenches, teeth rubbing against each other, turning into soft heaps of bones in her mouth.

Her chest heaves as more tears squeeze their way out her eyes, down her face, glistening under the moonlight that filters through their window. Blue waterfalls, grey ribbons of silk. The moon comforts her, draining all colors from the world, layering it in a blanket of greys, making every living creature scurry into their caverns, hiding spots, ceasing life for a few hours. Falling into a mourning, silent choir.

She squeezes her eyes shut, she can’t bear it, she can’t, she can’t she can’t.

But she did.

For a few, agonizingly long months, she did.

She kept it all inside, decaying under its pressure, but here she is, in their bed, alone.

I’ll stay late,

 He said,

you’re tired, go rest.

He said,

 I'll follow once I'm done.

 He concluded, before going into a dim lit office, closing the door behind. She only had a glimpse of who waited for him in that room.

She waited, in their bed.

The trance of getting home, undressing, showring, eating, all but a forgotten blur.

Cold, their home was cold, the warmth sucked out of it, while outside, the heat of summer frayed the grass into long, feeble golden sticks.

She’s too pretty, Annie thought, I can’t compare to her.

Long, dark hair, black obsidian eyes, tall, her skirt tight, highlighting the curve of her wide hips, curvy body. Intelligent, her smartness over throwing Annie's with no doubt. Her speeches, words, resonated in the halls of the conferences, long after she said them, their effect lingering in everyone’s mind.

 She is everything Annie isn’t.

 Annie buries herself deeper into the blankets, worrying that she might've lost him, that she stole him from her.

Then the door creaks open, a second of silence, apprehension, before it closes with a soft click. Another second of silence, then the sound of boots thudding on the carpeted floor, ruffles of clothes being taken off.

The sheets lift up, a warm body slides next to her. She brings the blankets closer to her face, squeezing her eyelids shut.

Then, slowly, warm hands wrap around her, his face at the back of her neck.

“I know you are awake,” he whispers, in her ear.

She doesn’t shift.

The fire in her battles with the rain, conquering each other, until they swayed, in harmony. Flames that danced to the rhythm of the rain drops. Tik tik tik, and the water does what it’s not supposed to do. Broadening the fire, encouraging it into a massive figure of infernal beauty.

His hands soft on her body, goes up, to her shoulders, wrapping around them, before reaching her cheeks, caressing them-

He halts, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Why are you crying?” he asks, his voice panicked, worried, he leans backwards, inspecting her from behind the blanket, “are you hurt? Is something hurting you?”

She doesn’t reply, her throat too tight to speak.

He calls her name, once, twice, when she doesn’t respond, he gets out of bed, walks to her side, and sits on the floor, his sight on level with her closed eyes.

He calls her name.

Her eyes flutter open.

Red.

A blue orb in a middle of a light red. He opens his mouth to ask about how long she has been crying, but nothing comes out.

He rests his hand on her shoulder, squeezing a bit.

Tell me

His eyes say

You can tell me

So she sniffs, tries to clear her throat, lifting her chin up.

She speaks, but he shakes his head; her voice slurry, alphabets sprawled all over the place.

He motions with his fingers; wait, gets up, goes out, a minute passes, and he’s back with a glass of water.

Cold, she thought, as she straightens in their bed, pulling the sheets closer to her chest. She takes the glass from him, nodding, not meeting his eyes.

He sits on the edge of the bed, silently watching her, as she takes tiny sips of the water, bit by bit, making it last for as long as she can, stretching a mere glass of water onto an excruciatingly slow seconds of a dreadful wait.

He’s patient, he has always been patient with her, giving her the time she needs.

When the water is drained to its last droplets, and there’s no escape, she speaks.

"How was your meeting?" She asks, she hates the hoarseness in her voice, she tries to clear her throat, but it only itches more.

Armin raises an eyebrow.

"How was it?" She asks again.

He sighs, finding no other solution but to answer her: "It went ok, too many paper work, which I despise."

"I could've stayed late and helped you, you know," her hand goes up to rub her arm.

"You were so exhausted, you've already done extra work today, besides, the new assistant was there and she was a great help, so it was ok."

Annie tenses, of course she was a great help.

"I never thought you would ever need an assistant," she says, and she tries so hard to not spit out the words.

"Neither did I," he amuses, "but, well, she showed up and honestly, she does know what she's doing, so I said, why not?" 

"Because I could've stayed late with you instead of her," she lets out in one go, her words overlapping each other.

Armin furrows his eyebrows, his forehead wrinkling.

When he doesn't reply, she repeats: "I could've stayed with you, I can be your assistant, I don't care if it's extra work. I could've stayed late with you."

She's looking around the room, watching everything except his eyes.

The dots connect in his mind.

A new assistant, staying late at work…

"Annie..." He calls out, the wrinkles in his forehead curving upwards as his eyebrows rise.

You're jealous, he thinks, but doesn't say out loud. 

He sighs, crawls onto bed. Annie curls on herself, turning her head away from him.

He sits in front of her, thinking from where to start. He would've never thought, in a million years, that Annie would be jealous.

It’s ridiculous… how could she ever think about…

He scrutinizes her. Vulnerable, insecure, hugging herself, avoiding his eyes.

If anything, he knows that Annie isn’t a woman of word.

With that in mind, he starts by kissing her knee, despite the blanket covering it. She swivels her head to him, confused.

His kisses go up, kissing her thighs. He murmurs against the fabric: "Annie..." 

Her name on his tongue, low and careful, each syllable pronounced with fragile-cautiousness, a desperate need to call her out, feel her name tingling on his tongue.

"You're the only one who would ever have my nights," he says.

He kisses her stomach, "to have my mornings," another kiss, "my afternoons, my evenings."

She's silent, watching him.

He goes up, kissing her clothed chest, "You're the only one I want to wake up by her side," he kisses her collarbone, his voice dropping a few notches.

He feels Annie swallowing.

He shuffles closer to her, kissing her neck, he whispers: "you're the only one who will ever touch me," one of his hands resting on her waist, while the other propped him up.

He kisses the spot underneath her chin, the skin soft on his lips, he says: "You're the only one I want to laugh with," another kiss, "cry with," a third kiss, "smile with."

He closes his eyes, his raw, genuine feelings pouring with every word, every touch.

"You're the only one I want to be with,"

He's kissing her face, her eyebrows, her cheekbones, the corner of her lips, her forehead, tasting salt from her tears. He doesn't know when she started crying, but he knows that she's hurt, vulnerable, and that is all he needs to know.

He wraps his arms around her, bringing her closer to him.

Hugging her tighter, never letting go.

Until he feels her arms wrapping around him, hugging him back, that's when he pushes his weight onto her, toppling her balance, landing on top of her.

She gasps, and he swallows the sound as he kisses her, lips on lips, tasting more salt, pressing his lips harder onto her. He kisses her with incomparable delicacy, touches soft on her body. Her lips warm, her cheeks cold.

He cups her face, wiping the tears, her skin glimmers where tears once were, leaving two silvery traces, meandering down her cheeks. He kisses them, slow, one by one, drawing it with his lips, until she relaxes against him.

Then hands happen, and they're on each other, skin on skin, in the quiet of the night.

He breathes her name out through it all, engraving it on the folds of her mind, for it to stay there for as long as she lived.

He wants her to hear his heart beating to the rhythm of her name on his tongue, each time he says it, his heart pulsating life through him, into his veins, into his hands that caress all over her body, memorizing every dip of her skin, every ridge of a bone. Her chest heaving under him, erratic breathing, and yet, she doesn't utter a word.

She lets him show her his words, blowing life into them, show her that he is only for her.

He gladly does.

He tells her that she's the only one who makes him feel this way, as he kisses down her neck, he tells her that she's the only one to touch him like she does. He whispers that he can't imagine anyone else doing what she does to him, that no one can make him feel the way that she does.

Then the first word slips out of her mouth, mixed with a sob.

It's his name.

Armin Armin Armin

She repeats his name, over and over, other words getting lost in moans and cries, and he savors it all.

After he made sweet love to her, once, twice. Gentle and soft. He kisses her neck, but she stops him, and he takes it as a sign.

He engulfs her in his arms, carrying her to the bathroom, where he runs the bath. Steam emits from the bath as she slowly tip toes into the warm water, he follows suit, sitting behind her, her back pressed onto his chest.

He washes her hair, her body, compliments falling off his tongue, gorgeous, pretty, an angel. She turns her head, rose dusting her cheeks.

When she wants to return the favor, he only pushes her hands, telling her that he got himself covered, so she sits on the stool by the bathtub, watching him rinse himself under the spray of the shower, his hair slick and wet, his shoulders broad, arms sculpted with muscle.

He acts like he doesn’t notice her stare.

He steps out the shower, then wraps her in a towel, before wrapping himself.

Not long after, he covers her in their blanket, tucking himself beside her, hugging her bare frame to his chest.

He kisses her forehead, tells her that he loves her, and he did for so long, and will never cease to a stop.

Because she is the spring in these emotions, and the thought of her on his mind had kept him going for years, and to have her in his arms… would be enough to live the rest of his life with his eyes on no one but her.

She smiles, planting a kiss on his bare chest, tangling their legs together.

He chuckles, and her heart flutters at the sound.

He rests his chin on her head, pulling her even closer to him, and like a mantra on his tongue, he whispers her name until sleep takes over him.

[bean-of-the-sky]

Stupid Things

After kissing Luz, Amity decides to have a moment of reflection, but someone decided to pay her a visit. Sometimes, it is best to reflect, together.

Amity Blight was laying on a grassy hill, feeling the gentle sway of the stems caress her hands, facing down on the dew. There were clouds in the sky - lazy clouds, really, grazing the endless blue that seemed to stretch for ages. She’d discovered the hill the other day, while on a walk home after a long shift - it was a desolated area, with no people, or attractions; it was a hill with a beautiful view, of the Boiling Isles and more. She knew that if she ever decided to come before sunrise, or sunset, the visuals would be breathtaking. One day, she told herself, she’d see the the sky darken and light up.

She came here to unwind, to think - she needed time to think because of her actions last night, which replayed in her head like unwanted music. What had she done and what was she thinking? Kissing Luz’s cheek, out of the blue, must’ve caught her off-guard. She hadn’t made an effort to communicate with the girl since then, avoiding her as much as possible.

“Ugh,” she murmured, throwing an arm over her eyes. “Stupid, stupid, she’s probably uncomfortable around me now - I should’ve thought my decision through more,” she said to herself, but that was it, wasn’t it?

She wasn’t thinking, she never did whenever Luz was near, or involved in any way, shape, or form. She made her do stupid things, acting before thinking - it was unlike her, but she liked it. Luz’s arrival had sparked something inside of her, changed her for the better, and she was still growing. Luz was good and Luz was light.

Blushing, Amity sighed and laid her arm down, gazing at the clouds again. She wanted to be a cloud and fly away, far from the hole she’d dug herself into, only then would she be granted peace of mind. 

“Room for one more?” 

Amity didn’t think it was possible for her cheeks to be hotter, redder, but there she was. Slowly, she urged herself to sit upright, and look beside her. Of course, it was Luz, who had found her. The blue of the sky was like a halo, enveloping Luz in a brilliant shade.

“Oh,” Amity said, “um, sure!” 

With a bright smile, Luz cushioned herself on the dewy grass, next to Amity. She extended her legs, pushed them forward, and allowed her shoe-clad feet to sway from side, to side. She was humming something, a tune Amity didn’t recognize, but one that she found herself liking. It was probably from the Human Realm - she genuinely wanted to visit, and explore the world that had gifted her Luz. 

A wonderful gift, she was. 

“So,” Luz started, drawing out the word.

“So,” Amity parroted, diverting her eyes and fidgeting with her tunic. 

“You, uh… look pretty today, Amity. Como una princesa,” Luz giggled, a small smile - soft in its nature - coating her lips, like a rainbow appearing after a sudden storm. She leaned closer, a hand cupping the side of her lips, whispering, “That means like a princess! I really like the purple, it’s beautiful on you.”

Amity was smiling, pushing the dyed strands behind her ears. “Thank you, my mother hasn’t seen it yet, so it’ll be nightmare getting through that,” she breathed, dreading the eventual confrontation. She was tired of her mother making every choice for her - she had a right over her own body and wanted to rebel, but a small part of her cowered, knowing she would be punished. 

Amulet or no amulet, her mother was still her parental figure. Sometimes, during the quieter days, she’d fantasize about running away to the Human Realm, with Luz. 

“How did you find me?” Amity asked, arching an eyebrow. 

Luz moved her hand backwards, toward her neck, and rubbed the skin there, chuckling, “Well, I’ve sort of been looking for you, and just thought: what would Amity do, if she was trying to hide? And, boom! I found this place, and I found you,” she announced, throwing her hands up.

Amity nodded and looked down, saying, “You know me well. It’s sweet.”

“Oh, well, you know - I really like you, so… I do my best,” Luz mumbled, pulling her hoodie up, and attempting to hide her blush. Amity noticed it was reaching her ears, so circular and soft, she found them endearing. 

“I like you too, Luz,” Amity said, feeling her heartbeat quicken, swiftly. She groaned internally, hoping to have an interaction that wouldn’t end in embarrassment for once. 

Luz let out a breath. She squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly asking, “In what way? Sorry if I’m being annoying, I was just a little confused. You said that I made you do stupid things, and so did I, but I wasn’t one-hundred percent sure what you meant by it. But then, you kissed me - was that romantic, or did you mean something else by it? I thought you were crushing on someone else, because of Grom, and your note —“ 

“Luz,” Amity softly said, a small giggle nestling itself into her voice. “I… like you, the same - the same way Azura likes Hecate,” she explained, pausing and reaching for the words that seemed correct. “I’ve liked you for a while now. You’re a wonderful person, Luz, and you found your way into my heart faster than I was able to realize.” She shook her head, finding herself amazed at how she fell for Luz, despite supposedly hating her, through the duration of their first encounter.

“Amity,” Luz murmured, her eyes widening, sparkling. 

“I like everything about you,” Amity continued, “from your eyes and smile, to the way you stand up for others, and dance when you’re excited. I like your voice, and your laugh, and how you inspire me to be a better person every day.” She tucked a purple strand away, swallowing, thickly. 

“I like you a lot, Luz Noceda.” Amity concluded, bringing her hands to her chest, and wringing them like a towel. Was that a lot? 

Luz was quiet, her gaze exploring Amity’s face. “Oh, wow,” she breathed, her eyes shimmering with tears suddenly, “I-I never thought that… y-you’d -“ Luz cleared her throat, glancing at the grass, blinking quickly, almost rhythmically. 

“Luz?” Amity was worried, her eyebrows scrunching.

“I’m - I’m okay, I just… never thought you’d like me. I mean, you’re so beautiful and magical and incredible, like a dream come true.” Luz opened her arms and pulled Amity into her embrace, into a warmth never known to Amity until her, until now.

Surprised, Amity recovered and melted into her touch, nuzzling into her shoulder, breathing in her scent. It was like lemons and flowers and goodness.

Whispering, Luz said, “I like you too, Amity Blight, more than you know,” she started to lean backwards and gently picked a flower from the grass. Observing it, she gave a smile and looked up. Softly, she pinned it behind Amity’s ear, taking a moment to gaze at her, in quiet admiration. 

“I’m pretty lucky,” Luz said, combing a hand through her hair, sorting out the dark locks, thick in texture.

“No, Luz, I’m the lucky one,” Amity told her, gently leaning her forehead against Luz’s. 

Luz had a stunned expression, like silent surprise. Her eyes softened and she smiled and it was a smile Amity had never seen on her before. Soft, vulnerable, and intimate - she knew she wanted to protect her, shield her from all the evil in the world, because Luz was light. 

Luz was her light, really. 

[mimiplaysgames]

Terraqua Week Day 5 (Mischief)

Summary: Aqua doesn’t have a crush on Terra. She doesn’t. Okay, she does. Or, Terra accidentally walks in on her in the shower. || Word Count: 3,476

Read on AO3

A/N: @terraquaweek I should mention a tiny little warning that there is a reference to nudity in this fic! It’s not described, so it’s totally T-rated but in case that is something you wanted to know. :) This is the shortest fic in the bunch, something cute and fun. The shower scene was a deleted scene in my Terraquanort fic, but I found that it just didn’t fit with the mood at all haha

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

nah.

Accidents don’t often happen to Aqua.

Ha.

Aqua swings her Keyblade upward. The force juggles golden rings assigned for training, usually tied to a pole for a bounce back. The Master mentioned some interesting techniques the other day in class: style changes, or the ability to enhance your power after a string of emotional attacks deep in the heat of battle, when you’re forced to rely on your heart to pull you out of a tough situation. Terra is sure to be developing new tricks, too.

There’s two months left until the Mark of Mastery. Letting the rings loose is a handicap Aqua places on herself: they’re heavy, resisting her magic to bounce in the air. This way, they should mimic what it’d feel like to fight a powerful enemy. She practices her pirouettes, and her waves of magic attempt to buoy them in the air in a violent tornado, but her spell flounders, a small push by a child in a playground. She adds a waltz step, a flip to give it a good kick, but it’s not enough. The rings crash back onto the grass. 

Aqua grunts and goes for the kill—but she twists her ankle at the crevice of a rock, landing on her knee.

“Stars,” she curses, wincing. Her knee is scraped, a hole ripped through her stocking, and her ankle aches. Stars. She casts Heal on her knee to soothe the sting and the gentlest summon of Ice to counter the swelling in her ankle. She tries to stand on it but can’t, so she casts more rounds of Heal and Ice spells until her leg can at least bear her weight.

Aqua limps to the castle through the back entrance, where the communal showers are. Showerheads, each with its own white curtain, are built on one side and sinks on the other in a wide open space. It’s part of a long hallway that connects to one of the gyms and a storage room down a corner. The floor is lilac concrete tile and drains, where it gives way to marble when you enter the castle proper. 

There was a time when the castle housed enough students to justify the size of this room, but Aqua is grateful she has direct access instead of having to drag this stupid ankle up a tower to her bedroom.

She shrugs off her sweaty, dirt-ridden clothes and shoes, and throws them in one corner, picking a shower that already houses soap, careful to put all her weight on one foot. The curtain draws around her in a u-shape and she turns the hot water knob, the pipes whistling as the water gushes through.

It gently scalds her at first but Aqua sighs when she gets used to it, rolling her shoulders and lifting her elbow over her head to stretch. The heat is good for the muscles. She presses her fingers near her neck, where it’s tight, and massages, then bends down to cast more Heal and Ice spells onto her ankle. Grime and sand flow down her skin, losing saturation as it curls down the drain under her feet. The soap stings when it runs over her scrape. 

She can’t keep making mistakes. 

Maybe the waltz step was too much and over-complicated things.

Aqua turns the knob off after rinsing her body and listens to the water drip onto the floor. The repetitive sound is hypnotic. She’ll journal her progress when she gets to her room and make comparisons with entries from the last few weeks. 

Hopefully, she’s improving at an acceptable speed despite the injury.

Aqua tests her ankle. She can’t flex it. Stars.

What is she missing when it comes to her technique? Does she need better endurance with her pirouettes? Does she have the time to do it right before the Mark of Mastery? 

When she realizes that she needs a towel to dry off—and there’s no towel in sight—she realizes that she’s been standing there wasting the time away. The shower is the greatest and the worst place to think.

Aqua figures she could grab a towel from the storage room nearby without anyone noticing. 

She opens the curtain.

Terra is standing right there, eyes as round as oranges with a heavy bag of fertilizer in his arms. He drops it. Aqua shuts the curtain with a screech.

“I’m sorry!” she hears him yell. Through the bottom of the curtain, she sees him scalping for excess that spilled over. Whatever hits the floor is mixing into the water, making mud. He’s barefoot.

“Terra, what the stars—?” she hisses, covering herself despite the curtain (a single piece of thin fabric).

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were in here!”

“How is that possible?”

“Why are you standing here doing nothing?”

“Just—Terra—” She groans loudly.

There is a pause as he walks backwards. “I-I didn’t see anything.”

“Get out of here.”

His footsteps slap across the floor, a subtle splash and the smack against the tile. Aqua peeks through the curtain when it’s quiet. She’s alone with a sequence of mud heading into the castle. Aqua grabs her clothes, slipping the bare minimum on despite its filth, and treks down the hall, purposefully taking opposite directions from his trail.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Their designated table in the library is always littered with books, damaged ones exchanged for the unread when the assignment deems it. There’s an extra stack for Ven since he’s a couple of years behind. 

Aqua (carefully) enters the library (ignoring the throbbing—it will heal quickly, she tells herself). She’s cleanly dressed and re-bathed, and takes a seat at the desk while Terra and Ven babble about the nonsense of a textbook they both hate. 

Terra gives her a quick, panicked glance before turning away from her and staring hard at the book in front of him.

Ven notices. “Aqua, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, just a sprain,” she says, suddenly clenched in the throat. What happened in the shower was nothing. No big deal. Sometimes best friends see things. So why is she, too, bordering on panic? Heat builds in her cheeks, so much that it hurts. Aqua tilts her head at an angle so her hair covers her face. 

“What’s with you two?” Ven asks and Aqua flinches. 

“Nothing, Ven,” Terra says too sternly. He bites his lip and stands too quickly. “A Heal spell isn’t enough for a sprain, what were you thinking?” he asks her without looking at her. He clears his throat loud enough to make Ven recoil, trying his best to hide how shaky his voice has become. “Excuse me,” Terra says before shuffling his feet like he’s holding his pee and disappearing.

When it’s quiet, Ven leans forward to get into Aqua’s personal space. “Okay, I know something’s up. What’s going on?” He squints. “Why is your face all red?”

“N-no reason.” Aqua opens a book. If she digs her entire face into it, it will look like she’s hiding on purpose. She lowers her chin (casually) to pretend she’s reading.

“You’re a liar.”

Aqua slams the book back down. “I do not lie, Ven.”

“Sure, you’re the definition of perfect. But you’re lying to me now.”

Aqua doesn’t know what to do. Her record is spotless. She’s a good student and a good person. She’s only ever told small, harmless white lies, about being tired when she doesn’t feel like it, or saying she isn’t hungry when she is so they don’t catch her sneaking in a brownie. But not this. 

“I’m not,” she says in the most unconvincing way.

“Fine, I’ll bug Terra about it—”

“There was,” Aqua says, her voice uneven (damn the stars), “an accident.”

Ven raises a skeptical brow. “And? How bad could that be?”

Aqua huffs and crosses her arms. It’s just Ven. Her other best friend, no judgment here. “Terra surprised me.”

Ven rolls his eyes.

“In the communal shower.”

He points and laughs at her, dropping his head in a fit and slamming a fist onto the surface of the table. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard,” he says in between gasps. “Oh, he must be suffering right now.”

Terra returns, more relaxed, carrying a wooden bowl and bandages. Still, he avoids looking Aqua in the eye.

“So…” Ven says with an obnoxious knowing to his voice and Aqua regrets everything. “Did you enjoy the view?”

Terra stares at her first, his brown skin pale. He glares at Ven with the ferocity of homicide.

Ven bursts into another shake of laughter. “Stars, don’t tell me. You’re blushing so hard.” 

At that, Aqua looks away. The thought is embarrassing and a… relief? At the same time? 

Terra doesn’t honor Ven with a reply. He trembles, forming a claw with his hand. When he waves it, the bookshelves shake. Several books zoom out and flap, hovering over Ven and hitting him on the head like crows on the attack. 

“Wait, stop, how are you doing this?” Ven shields his head with his arms, but Terra is bent on murder. Ven summons his Keyblade and cuts straight through the spine of a book. “Okay, okay, I get it!” The books glide close, ready to torpedo if necessary. Terra refuses to say anything. Ven steps away from the table, on guard. Then he smirks. He sticks his tongue out and bolts out the door. “Maybe that means you guys will finally kiss!” he yells down the hall.

Kiss.

A word as loud as a volcano erupting. 

Terra lets go of his magic and all the books drop to the floor, yet the crash is still quieter than Kiss, quieter than how hard her heart is drumming in her chest.

Without a word, Terra picks up the bowl with both of his hands and mumbles a short-lived Fire spell. It’s obvious that she’s to remove her sock and give her ankle to him. That’s the point, a turmeric and olive oil mix, gently heated to reduce inflammation. He doesn’t need to ask.

Aqua lifts her leg to remove her stocking.

Terra flinches and dramatically averts his eyes.

“It’s just a sock, Terra.”

Terra motions to look at her as a response, but stops himself. “You shouldn’t be walking on it,” he bites.

“Call me stubborn.”

“You’re stubborn.”

She fights the impulse to slap him on the back of the head. “Here.” She offers her naked leg to him.

Terra still won’t look at her, but digs two of his fingers into the mix and holds her calf with his other hand. He almost draws back from her skin. Stars, he is blushing. She is too, she can feel it, a boil in both of her cheeks, a flame building in her stomach. His fingers are warm and strong, a caress on her skin. She likes this. She has all the capability to do this herself but she doesn’t want to.

Shit.

Aqua crosses one arm over and brings her hand to her chest—her way of looking dignified as Terra rubs the solution over her ankle. She has been appreciating how broad his shoulders have gotten, how sharp his jawline is, how tall he’s grown. All things that most people would notice, surely. He’s beautiful, he’s always been.

He opens his mouth to say something.

Aqua panics. “If you dare make a comment—”

“You’ll kick me?” Terra lifts her leg higher out of spite and nearly pulls her off the chair. He takes the bandage and starts to wrap. 

Aqua stammers. How are they going to get through this?

“It was an accident, Terra.”

He freezes as though he can’t decide if he should finish the job or drop her leg. After a pause, he pitches his voice into a high octave to mimic her (badly). “Oh please, Terra, they’re just breasts. Nothing major.”

“You said—” she squeaks and covers her mouth. She shouldn’t be so naive. The heat in her cheeks bake. 

That’s fine. Best friends know lots of intimate things, especially with how long Terra and Aqua have been together. Some of her guts, though, are about to choke her esophagus. She hopes that doesn’t mean she wanted him to see anything. That she’d want him to enjoy it. 

Shit. 

Terra trembles in nervous laughter, soft and quiet, staring holes into her ankle as he knots the bandage. He’s blinking too much. “You’ll need to compress cold rice on it every now and then,” he says, suddenly serious. “And rest,” he stresses like it’s a curse word.

“Terra?”

He hesitates. “Yeah?”

Footsteps approach them from behind, too graceful to be Ven’s. Terra scrambles to pick up the books, choosing the sliced one first to slip into the bookshelf so the Master doesn’t notice. Aqua straightens herself out and slips on her shoe.

“Would someone mind explaining to me the mess in the communal showers?” the Master asks as he enters, before eyeing the mess in the library. He braces his hips with his fists. “What on earth are two concoting here?”

Her cheeks burn harder. 

“Not much, sir,” Terra says, gathering a tall stack of books under his chin. “Pranking Ven. The usual.” 

The tone of his voice is too suspicious and the Master knows them too well.

“Aqua,” the Master says, “you sustained an injury.”

All she can come up with is, “Not in the prank, sir.” 

“So the mud—?”

“In the shower,” Terra says quickly, without thinking. Overcompensating for the awkwardness. He bites his lip. “I mean, she slipped when she was showering.”

“He only knows because I told him,” Aqua says and she wants to slap herself. Of course that’s how Terra would find out in any normal story. Spelling it out makes it seem like he witnessed it himself. Terra glares her a new one.

Eraqus reads her with skepticism. He folds his hands behind his back and clears his throat. “Terra, you remember the discussion we’ve had some years ago regarding certain curiosities—”

“Yes, Master.” Terra inhales sharply and coughs.

The Master smiles. He looks pleased with himself. “You may continue to clear this up. And if you would please, keep the mischief at a minimum. It would be a great distraction from your work.”

Terra grits his teeth and Aqua lowers her eyes. “Yes, Master,” they both say slowly, like they’re about to step on hot coal. 

When the Master leaves, Terra drops books onto the table. He’s finally looking at her, his eyes such a striking depth. It suddenly melts her away. Why so sudden though? He’s always had dark eyes. 

Oh. She’s taken him for granted. Now she sees.

“What was that?” he whispers.

Aqua scoffs. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

He shakes his head. “I never want to have that kind of conversation with the Master ever again.” 

“At least let me help you,” Aqua says, nodding over to the last gathering of books on the floor.

“I’m not letting you stand on that foot.” He bends over to do the work himself.

“Then I’ll help you clean out the mud.”

Terra puts away the last handful of books, and chuckles to himself. “How do you want to get there? Crutches?”

“No, thank you.”

“Well, I either carry you in my arms or I fling you over my shoulder.”

Aqua needs to find a spell to hide the blushing. It aches. “What an obnoxious suggestion.”

“Then I’ll leave you here in the library.”

“No.”

Terra snorts. “Okay.” He hooks an arm under her knees and lifts the rest of her body like she’s a hollow ragdoll. So close to him, Aqua can feel the grooves of his muscle, his chest durable and broad. She wonders if he enjoys holding her this close, too. 

“I am really sorry,” he says as he takes her back towards the showers, passing by the open entrance to that gym, padded for wrestling. It’s not one they use often, since most of their training happens towards the front entrance. “I was on my way to take care of the squash. It was a dumb accident.”

“It’s okay,” Aqua says. She’s resting her head on his shoulder, staring at the way his neck moves when he speaks. Here, they don’t have to look at each other. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Yeah.” He sounds almost disappointed, if not relieved. “Glad we sorted that out, right?”

“Definitely.” She wraps her arms around his neck tighter. 

“What were you doing?”

“Pushing myself too hard.” Aqua scoffs.

“Typical Aqua.”

At the way he says that—mock-cocky, snivelish, playful—she blushes. He hasn’t changed since they were little, but it’s a side to him that only she and Ven sees.

There’s a lot to him that he only shows her.

They reach the storage room where the mop and towels would be stored, but he doesn’t enter. “We really need to install a door here,” he says. They reach the communal showers, and he bypasses them too. Terra finally settles her down on the terrace outside.

“Stay here, I’ll be back.”

“No, wait, I’m helping you—”

“Not with that foot, you’re nuts.”

“You can’t stop me from crawling back inside.”

“Then I’ll drag you back out.” He smirks, almost like he’s his old self but not quite. His old self isn’t this adamant. It makes her think that there’s something he isn’t saying, that maybe she’s misreading him, stuck between doing his duty to help her and needing time away from her. That he’s hiding it all behind a joke, and she has to let him go.

“Okay.” She crosses her arms. 

“Rest isn’t terrible for you,” he says as he walks away. 

Aqua stares at dry dirt. Down this path are the flower and vegetable gardens, contained by a fence. Beyond is the trail that leads right to the spot where she started this ridiculous ordeal. If only she didn’t trip. She’s been training for years. She’s too skilled to be having accidents, too far in her studies to think this hard about her feelings for Terra.

Too far in her studies and too mature to keep denying that she wants him to look at her. She does.

She gets tapped on the head. 

“Wait here,” Terra says, heading towards the gardens, barely giving her a glance.

Aqua anchors her elbows onto her thighs and drops her chin into her hands. A sudden thought invades her mind: he’ll come back from whatever chore he has to finish here, take her to her room, and now that everything is said and done, they’ll pretend like none of this has happened.

And that is that. A weird day finished, a blip in history.

Terra comes back into view faster than she anticipated, holding a bouquet of orange and blue flowers in his hand. 

Aqua uses the wall to pull herself up, keeping most of her weight on the good foot. “What’s this?”

Terra opens his mouth to speak, and leaves it there. He licks his lips and offers the flowers. “Um…” He scoffs. “I’m bad at this.”

They smell nice. Roses and bluestars. They must be his way to apologize. “They’re beautiful.”

“Um…” He clears his throat, rubbing something raw at the back of his neck. “Would you like to, uh…” He glances at the ground beneath him, summoning the courage to look at her and speak clearly, overusing his hands to demonstrate. “There’s actually a really pretty cave nearby, full of crystals and minerals. It’s spectacular, and I’ve always wanted to take you to see it.” He blushes, swallowing. “Um, when you feel better, would you like to come see it with me? Spend the night, I mean?” He blushes harder, scoffing. “It’s a nice hike and it’s a great camping spot.”

Aqua squeezes the stems of the flowers and her heart hammers too hard to find her voice. “That sounds…” She exhales. “Nice.” She almost asks for permission—from who, she doesn’t know. Terra is asking her. She’s asking herself. “Yes, I’d love to.” She hopes to the stars she’s blushing less than him. 

Terra has no answer except for a nervous giggle, his eyes gleaming. He leans forward and kisses her on the cheek, whipping himself back with a hand to his face like he’s committed the worst sin in the world. 

It’s warm where he left his lips. Aqua touches it with her fingers.

Embarrassed laughter sputters out of Terra’s mouth with many unnecessary apologies.

Aqua smiles, and it comforts him. “Can you take me back inside?” she asks, that smile twisting her cheeks. It hurts so good.

“Sure,” he breathes. “Anywhere you want.”

They exchange rogue giggles and excited glances as he carries her. They talk as if nothing indeed has happened, where they avoid any mention of mischief to be had in the near future, at least for now. Maybe the stars threw her off balance this morning on purpose. Best friends. They’ve always been.

[danger-xylophones]

Could I maybe request a Grand Admiral thrawn x artist reader?

Of course! We stan the grand admiral. 

I very much ran away with this one...woops.

Remarkable (Grand Admiral Thrawn x reader)

Lothal is...quiet. A stark contrast to the perpetually busy streets of Coruscant or even the ever-present thrum of business aboard the Chimeara. You found you quite liked the dull by comparison planet as it afforded you the one thing you’d always gone without; a break. As Vice-Admiral of the modified Star Destroyer you were never without work for long-such is the price to pay for being good at your job-which meant that moments like these were rare at best and nonexistent the rest of the time. 

You find yourself in one of the many plains Lothal has to offer, seated cross-legged atop a small jagged rock formation with a flattened top telling you that you weren’t the only one to observe from this place. In hand is a stylus, resting atop where your legs decussate is a clipboard holding a piece of flimsi you’d managed to pilfer out of the Grand Admiral’s office. 

It’s been a while since you’d had the time to sit and sketch and it shows in the way your lines waver. They grow lighter in some areas and darker in others in a manner depicting someone out of practice rather than someone who has drawn their whole life. But you press on, determined to use this precious time to yourself as a means to preserve your skill for recreation. It’s a simple piece-a landscape drawing meant to capture the rather unremarkable terrain of the Outer Rim planet but it brings you peace as you watch the stylus deposit its plumbago along the line you decide with your hand before retreating as you do to look up at the bizarre rock formation you are currently trying to capture once more. Perhaps it is because you have been soothed by the simple process that you miss the key sounds that signal approach. 

“What are you doing out here, my dear?” The deep voice practically purs in your ear. You startle, stylus flying away from you as your body jerks to life. You are moving before you’re aware of it. Both hands move to clasp the clipboard as you spin ‘round to swing it at whoever dares to intrude on your personal time. But you are stopped before you make any contact by two blue hands wrapping around your wrists. Your eyes clear and meet with deep red ones, impassive to all but you can see the glimmer of amusement hiding behind them. He finds this funny. “Calm yourself, my love, I did not mean to startle you.” 

You can’t help but scoff at that. “Oh, of course, you didn’t.” You hiss but there is no weight to it. And Thrawn knows this. He releases you and you immediately begin locating your stylus, hopeful that the lead did not break. 

“I truly did not, Y/n.” Thrawn hums as you turn away from him to scour the tall grass beneath your perching rock like a shriek-hawk examining the ground for easy prey. “I was merely trying to locate you aboard the ship and when I could not, I was informed that you had left for a walk.” Unable to locate the stylus, you huff and turn back towards the Grand Admiral. From your position atop the rock, you peer down at him. But he does not look at you. He is, instead, solely focused on your missing stylus that he holds up as though for an examination. “I was not aware you draw, my love.” 

You can’t help but fidget and Thrawn takes a note as he drags his eyes away from the utensil and up to you. “Uh...It’s not really something I get to do all that often...what with the Empire and all.” You explain lamely, slowly sinking back into a seated position. You kick your legs over the side of the rock before sliding your hands into your lap, clasped over the over-turned clipboard, as you chew on your bottom lip and avoid eye contact with your lover. It was hard to explain but in this moment you wanted nothing more than to return to your drawing-alone. You could physically feel the seconds ticking away-moments of precious time meant to be spent in seclusion slipping by. 

“Indeed.” Thrawn hummed, less in agreement, and more so as an acknowledgment of what you had said. Carefully he held the stylus out for you to take and you readily reclaimed the simple tool. But instead of picking up the clipboard to begin drawing anew like Thrawn expected you to do-you just rested it on the back-your sketch still face down against your thighs. Thrawn’s eyebrow quirked upwards ever so slightly in confusion. “Do you...not wish for me to see your artwork?” 

Your eyes widen. “Yes! I mean, no! I mean...” You take a breath to collect yourself, “I mean...it’s just, it’s not an artwork-it’s just a sketch.” You try to explain to cover up your all too eager response. The reality is, you’re scared to show it to him.

“Every step in the creation of a masterpiece is an artwork in its own right.” Thrawn replies without missing a beat and you feel your face flush. “May I see it?” Sighing, you carefully lift the clipboard off your lap and discreetly check to see if in your haste to hide it you smudged the lead. Maybe if you did and you asked to have some time to fix it, he’d forget? Unlikely, Thrawn never forgets anything. It is both a blessing and a curse. Still, you hand it to him. Thrawn spends a few seconds in silence and you watch as his dark red eyes dart left and right in an examination of the simple sketch. “Remarkable.” He eventually hums and you tilt your head in confusion. 

“Remarkable?” You repeat. 

“Remarkable.” He confirms with a solid nod. He hands the clipboard back to you and you immediately began reexamining it. You knew remarkable-remarkable was the artwork Thrawn studied on a daily basis. Remarkable was the artwork he always compared your appearance to. Remarkable was Thrawn himself, his intellect unmatched by any one person in the Empire. Remarkable wasn’t a half-finished sketch of Lothal. “Simply,” you feel him move closer but don’t look at him, far too perplexed by your own drawing, “remarkable.” There is a press against your temple and you can feel the word vibrate against your skin as he speaks. He is pulling away just as you turn to him with wide eyes. “Your attention to detail and perspective is astonishing, my love, and it reads so clearly even in the beginning stages of your process. While your lines show that it has been a while since you’ve actively drawn, you’ve used that to your advantage to give your sketch the appearance that all of this is fleeting-subject to change at any given moment.” You glance down at the flimsi once more, not at all seeing what he was getting at. “And most remarkable of all-your willingness to show me such an intimate part of the art process. The idea.” 

You were aware that you were now gaping at the Grand Admiral, entirely perplexed. He offered you a rare smile. “That is often the most difficult thing to do. To explain your idea before it’s been realized can be frightening as it often opens the artist up to ridicule before they’ve even begun.” He said no more and you were left staring blankly at the sketch. A beat passed before you heard the shifting of fabric and the familiar caress of Thrawn’s hand on your jaw. With barely any effort, he pulled your face closer to him so he could press a delicate kiss to your forehead. “Would you mind if I stayed with you while you continued?” You couldn’t find it within you to form words so instead, you shook your head. Thrawn lithely hopped up onto the rock you were seated on with all the litheness of a loth-cat and settled next to you. Without a word, he pulled out a datapad and opened it up to the holo-novel he’d been reading in his off time. Finally understanding what had happened, you smiled at the side of his face before moving to place a kiss of your own on his high cheekbone. It lifted imperceptibly. 

Quietly, you unlipped the piece of flimsi you’d been sketching on and flipped it over. Readying your stylus, you began drawing once more-this time with a new, remarkable muse in mind. 

[neonthewrite]

Washed Up Winchesters 7

The team is closing in on the solution to their mystery! What's it gonna be, dream team?!

Cowritten with @nightmares06, the writer behind the @brothersapart multiverse!

( 1 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 ) ( 4 ) ( 5 ) ( 6 ) -7- ( 8 )

Story Tag

Read Time ~15 minutes

~~~~~

Jacob didn’t exit the inner roads of the city a moment too soon. A few people had started to wander closer to figure out what he was up to, despite the officer from before trying to convince them to move along. The resident giant didn’t walk among the close-packed buildings very often at all, and it only showed off how tall he was compared to everything else.

He was grateful to have passengers to pay attention to. He couldn’t think too much about his self-consciousness that way.

Once they were back on the outskirts of town, he glanced down often to get more directions from Sam or Minnie (Chase, as usual, didn’t seem too fussed about the direction they went). They eventually led him to a place well outside of town. None of the bumpiest roads even wound up out there, and the hills, covered in brush and rocks, wouldn’t be kind to most people on foot. A few dense clusters of trees formed extra barriers against travel in that direction.

“So you think these, uh, shapeshifter thingies are hiding somewhere in there?” he asked, pausing once again to consult the miniature monster hunters. “I’m not gonna be able to make a stealthy entrance, so what’s the plan?”

"Keep an eye out for any stray animals," Sam cautioned. "We don't know what their animal forms are yet, and skinwalkers are more versatile compared to werewolves like that. Whatever the pack is, anyone they bite will also turn into that animal."

"Who needs stealth when you have a giant on your side?" Dean commented, eliciting a side-eye from Sam. Likely his younger brother was remembering how trigger happy Dean had been just a few short hours back. Though considering the part that past giants had played in Blefuscu's history, it was understandable that the mini-monster hunter would feel threatened when seeing another one spring to life from the story books.

“Right?” Chase agreed. “These skinwalker thingies had no idea what they were getting into, invading Lilliput.”

Jacob’s mouth twisted into a skeptical frown. He might be big, and he’d used that to his advantage once or twice, but it didn’t make him an expert here. The monster hunting expertise all settled on Sam and Dean’s shoulders. He was prepared to help however they might need, but he didn’t like the thought of living as an open challenge to any monster that wanted to try something.

Minnie fidgeted. Her brow furrowed. “Can we just find them and get it over with?”

Jacob cupped his hand closer to his chest. “Yeah,” he tried to sound reassuring. “Just gonna …” he reached down to the tops of the nearest grouping of trees, brushing his hands over them. The young, supple trees bent back at his coaxing, though not without some creaking branches and snapping twigs, and birds swarmed away from his hand like flies.

“Can you guys tell if there’s any tracks or anything through there?”

Dean gave Jacob such a flat look that it could have dried up an ocean. Dried it up and left cracked salt flats behind. "What kind of tracks do you think we can spot from here, after you go messin' around with everything?" He pointed at the way the area had been affected by Jacob's movement.

Jacob glanced down and, in an overplayed show of drawing his hand back, let the trees spring into place with a cascade of yet more twigs and leaves. “I didn’t think they’d be climbing around in the trees,” he defended. As for how much they could have seen on the ground … he saw the point. He was too used to the Lilliputians being able to see much more detail than he ever could, and never paused to think about how high up he had everyone.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” Chase said, patting Jacob’s palm. “Ya did your best. You said it yourself, you won’t be sneaking up on ‘em.”

Jacob rolled his eyes and sighed, and some of the birds that were swarming from his recent disturbance scattered even further in the sudden breeze. “Right.”

He pressed forward, this time not paying much mind to the clusters of trees unless there was motion among them. Usually, it was a fox or another flock of birds, all irate for his presence. As he navigated around boulders jutting out of the ground and stepped over thick underbrush, he understood why no one made much use of the area. If he tried to set his passengers down right then, Chase and Minnie would definitely get themselves tangled up in something. Sam and Dean might fare only a little better.

As he crested the first hill, he paused. “I didn’t really see much in there,” he admitted. “Maybe I went the wrong way?”

It was Minnie who spoke up next, and she was staring down at a clearing at the foot of the hill. “There’s a flock of sheep.”

Chase snickered. “Jeez, Minnie, do we need to get you more lambs to look after? Sheep are on your brain today.”

She pointed at the clearing and shot him a scathing glare. “They’re on my brain because they’re there, Chase!”

"She's right," Sam put in helpfully, interrupting the siblings.

Indeed, the clearing ahead was populated with a peacefully grazing herd of sheep. Several "Baas" filtered back to the group in Jacob's hand. The giant had not gone unnoticed by the sheep, as most of them had given a wide berth to the side Jacob stood closest to.

Dean's eyes lit up with excitement. "If there's sheep, it's the perfect kind of place for shifters to make themselves right at home, especially if they're holed up for a while until they think they’re forgotten," he pointed out. "We should check the place out, see if there's any predators nearby that might be stalking the herd."

"I wonder how they all got over here," Minnie mused, even as Jacob looked for a good path down the gentle slope of the hill.

"Maybe the shapeshifter guys took 'em," Chase said. "We'll see if someone back in town is missing any."

"Just hope I won't scare 'em off," Jacob muttered. Even at his lowest volume, the four on his hand wouldn't miss his concern. Just his appearance over the crest of the hill had made some of the sheep nervous, from what he could see. He inched along towards the clearing, trying not to cause a landslide as he did.

Dean was unable to stop from bouncing on his heels while they waited, unaccustomed to waiting around for someone else to do all the work while he was stuck in the air.

"The longer you take, the more time they have to run off," he helpfully reminded Jacob, which got an annoyed look sent back at him from Sam.

"If any make a break for it, we'll just have Jake round them up," Sam said dryly.

Jacob sent a skeptical glance at his hand, but didn't argue. He had never tried to actually pick up the Lilliputian livestock before. At most, there were a few herds of cattle that allowed him to touch their backs. Mostly the animals still avoided him, and he didn't exactly blame them. Even now, his shadow over the hill crept over that green clearing and the sheep weren't any more curious about him than before.

If they did turn out to be stolen or lost, he'd probably be the one carrying them back over the hill. Hopefully the others would manage to help him keep from spooking the whole lot.

As soon as he was close enough, he crouched down, one hand braced on the ground while the other lowered his passengers to the grass. "Just gimme a shout if you spot trouble," he urged them.

Chase gave a thumbs up while he helped Minnie hop down from the hand. Then, before he could chirp out a response, he had to suppress a sneeze in the crook of his arm. "Oh yeah, I'm allergic to the air I guess," he complained.

"Just don't scare the flock," Minnie scolded.

Dean followed behind the younger pair of siblings, scowling. "We don't know where the skinwalkers are, so you two need to stick close to us," he told them sharply. "Chase, you're with me. Got it?"

"That means it's me and you," Sam said to Minnie with a smile. "Don't go out of earshot of the others, and watch my back."

“Oh, I definitely don’t plan to get lost out here,” Minnie muttered back. Chase would never let her live it down. That was another perk to having a giant so nearby. Jacob would be able to find them if they shouted for him, and he could pluck them right out of danger if they needed. Even so, she stuck close to Sam as she scanned the area for any signs of something out of the ordinary.

By contrast, Chase stuck close to Dean out of convenience more than wariness. He didn't want to get lost out there either. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s bothered this flock yet,” he noted. “Think the guys are nearby still?”

"We're here to find out," Dean said, more sharply than he meant. The fact that they didn't know for sure unnerved him more than usual. Combine that with the fact that they were well away from their familiar stomping grounds in Blefuscu, and he was on edge.

The secluded field hardly seemed the place for a dangerous pack of shapeshifters, but Dean had seen weirder in his time as a hunter. They could take no chances. Selecting a direction that led away from Sam's pair and Jacob, he took point, leading Chase into the flock of sheep to search for their owners.

"Baa."

Dean ignored the sound of the sheep as they milled restlessly around the intruders, trying to spot any color in the field of white. The sheep had to have gotten this far up the hills somehow, but he wasn't seeing any sign of their caretakers.

"Baa."

This time, the sound of an impatient sheep was shortly followed by one of them headbutting into Dean's legs. Caught off-guard, he toppled into the field and vanished among the woolly animals.

"Oh shit! Dean!" Chase blurted, a smile only briefly flashing across his face. When the determined monster hunter didn't catch himself or spring right back up, he lurched over to where he'd seen him fall over. The sheep were restless at this point, no doubt owed in part to their sudden intrusion. Chase had to sidle around several of them before he could find where Dean landed.

He patted one nearby sheep's head distractedly as he knelt down. "Scuse me." He got his hands on Dean's arm to help pull him up to a seat. "What happened?"

Dean rubbed his head, blinking in confusion. "I think... the sheep?"

The herd was growing more restless by the minute now, a multitude of baas surrounding the pair. As Dean got unsteadily to his feet, a second sheep rammed its head into his legs and sent him tumbling down again.

"Ah, jeez!" Chase groused. How Minnie could keep a whole flock of sheep in line, he would never know. "Calm down, guys!" He had to step around one uppity ram that had wandered it's way between him and Dean in all the milling around.

"They don't seem to like us much," he said, exasperated. "Maybe we oughta just go around the flock instead of through it."

He knelt down to help once again, and this time one of the sheep let out an indignant baaa right next to his ear. Slapping a hand over his ear, Chase frowned. "Oh calm down a second, wouldja? We're going!"

Dean ended up needing Chase's help to stand, surrounded by the annoyed bleats of the flock. He scowled right back at them. "Seriously, since when are sheep this irritating?"

~~~

Not far away, Sam was having similar issues.

He was unable to go more than a few steps before another sheep would try to headbutt him off his feet. However, Minnie was distinctly left alone in comparison, with all the ire of the sheep directed towards the younger Winchester brother.

Minnie frowned and scanned the handful of sheep currently swarming around Sam. They didn't look sickly, or even all that scared. They were just annoyed by Sam for some reason.

"Hey, hey," she said gently, clicking her tongue at them. "What got you all worked up?" One sheep allowed her to pat its head once before shaking her off and returning to bleat at Sam.

She glanced across the flock to see Chase and Dean having similar problems, with a sea of indignant sheep in between the two groups. One look over her shoulder showed that Jacob hadn't moved and was poorly hiding his bemusement with the sight, so he probably couldn't be to blame for the flock's upset.

"Sam, we should--" she cut herself off, seeing him still struggling to keep his feet. Like her brother, she had to sidle her way past the sheep to get close enough to help him up. "We should check around the edges first, maybe. I dunno if I've ever seen a flock get this annoyed before."

“Yeah, let’s--” Whatever Sam was going to say was cut off when a ram headbutted him directly in the ass and sent him to faceplant in the dirt.

“Sam!”

Even from across the field, Dean had seen that Sam was in the same predicament as he was. The sheep were oddly focused on the Winchester brothers, while mostly ignoring the Lisongs. Frustrated, Dean pulled out his gun only to remember that it was out-of-commission from the saltwater. “Son of a bitc--”

He was knocked to the grass yet again, surrounded by increasingly agitated sheep. Chase, standing near him, made the mistake of trying to catch his fall. It ended with them both toppling into the sea of woolly troublemakers.

Minnie huffed in exasperation. “Chaaase,” she drawled, only to glance up as a shadow neared the flock.

“Okay, guys,” Jacob murmured, finally deciding he needed to step in. The first couple times the sheep had knocked Dean over, he’d been amused, but at this rate they’d never figure anything out. He would have to risk spooking some of the herd if only to deal with them later. He leaned forward, one hand planted firmly and flattening some sheep-free grass, while the other dipped down towards the flock where he’d last seen Dean and Chase fall over.

To his surprise, the sheep didn’t scatter in all directions from his shadow. At best, the ones near Dean and Chase bleated angrily and shuffled out of the way, giving him the space to scoop them both off the grass.

Before Jacob could do so, Dean bounded to his feet, fed up with the entire situation.

"That's ENOUGH!" he bellowed, yanking out his silver knife and brandishing it at the flock. "The next sheep to headbutt me gets its wool sheared off early!"

That somehow riled the sheep up even more, though they didn’t charge at him while the shadow of Jacob’s hand hovered overhead. Chase managed to regain his feet, suppressing a few sneezes from falling in the grass. All around the pair, the sheep bleated and a ram stomped just outside of Dean’s reach.

Jacob saw it before Dean or Chase did. While the ram in front made its odd show of defiance, another one edged towards them from behind. “Okay,” he muttered, “this is getting ridiculous.”

He reached down and plucked both of them up, gently herding them towards his palm before whisking them up. Once they were hovering over the heads of the many indignant baaas of the flock, he focused on Sam and Minnie.

The sheep still didn’t want to let Sam up, especially after Dean’s outburst, and they’d managed to shuffle Minnie away from him. Two fingers scooped under Sam’s middle to haul him up before the sheep smothered him or started to bite at him or something. Once he deposited Sam with the other two on his hand, he finally offered a hand up for Minnie and explained his hasty actions. “This isn’t working. You guys are gonna get trampled if this keeps up.”

Finally free of the sheep thanks to Jacob's intervention, Dean was able to bring himself to stand on his own two feet, with no fear of getting butted over yet again.

"What is with these sheep?" he demanded angrily at the air. "Don't they know we're trying to help? If there's a pack of wolves around, it's only a matter of time for them!"

That was when it clicked for Sam.

"Holy shit," he breathed. "Holy shit."

[the-fiction-witch]

The Witch

MOVIE THE LAST LEGION AGE UP COUPLE: ROMULUS X READER RATING: SMUT

I stood leant on the balcony looking out across the city, watching the villages on the other side of the mountain… they were burning, the smoke rising high into the sky, the flames illuminating the stars, we had sent a legion but they had been slaughtered along with the hundreds of men, women and children defenceless and slaughtered. My advisors were idiots, my staff useless. I feared for those in the city and the palace, the hundreds and thousands here that would die if our walls were to be breached. 

I knew what had to be done, but I was fearful to do it. 

"Romulus My king, please, you must reconsider" my father said as we walked down the hallowed palace halls

"Reconsider? What other hope have I got?"

"Our walls with prevail the legions will destroy them before they step foot into the city"

"Yeah we send one to protect the villages… how well did that go"

"Those were rural mountain villages, now where near the strength or security of the city”

“And what happens if they do get through the wall?”

“The army will-”

“What happens. If they get though?”

“If they get though” He says “The moment one of the barbarian men steps foot in on the city stone, We will have you halfway to britannia” 

“So, you want me to run off to Britannia with my tail between my legs? While my people die for me? While they suffer under a barbarian ruler? While children are tortured? While women are raped in the streets? Men forced into amries? While I hide myself away in Britannia hiding away in some dirty, muddy, tiny little hole while he destroys everything my ancestors have built?” 

“Why not come sit in with the senet we will discuss the attack and matters” “The senet is a bunch of men sitting around with titles from a hundred years ago. What is that going to help?”

“They know the city better than anyone” “The beggars in the street know the city better the senet never leaves the palace” I sighed

“Then why not go to the vestals? They always have good advice for the kings”

“Ohh so you want me to go sit around with a bunch of honry old virgins? And philosophers who cut their dicks off?” 

“Then go to the library and discuss with the Philosophers?”

“Ohh please, Unless I’m a new constellation, some old books or a cannabis bath they couldn’t give less of a shit” I sighed 

“Then go to the temple my king, discuss with the gods. Think things over in their presence” He says “Speak with Minerva, Take council with Mars,”

“I’m going to the temple… just not theres” 

“I still do not advise it my king” 

“Well that's all it is. Advice” I said “I’m going to see her” 

“You know the sort of things people…. Will say they see you going there?”

“I know. But I need power… and wisdom. Older, Stronger than the twelve”

I could feel my fear, thick inside my heart, getting heavier, harder, Like… I wanted to run away with every step I took closer, my escort followed me as did two slaves heading though the city past people all adoring but even the people had fear knowing the trouble coming and some knowing… where I was going. I walked the walk of gods where the temples all sat, I past Vesta and Vulcan, Past ceres and Minerva, Past Apollo and Diana, Past Venus, Past Neptune, Past mercury and mars, Past Pulto, Past juno and Jupiter… but I stopped a moment and nodded to the female slave who carried the offerings she nodded and took some of the flowers to juno and jupiter's statues as I felt there eyes watched me. Once she came back I continued until reaching the end of the road where the temple of Luna sat. 

I went inside the empty temple, the black stone mosaic floor clean and the roof open to allow in the sun but at the right times the moon. I went to the statue and left all the flowers there and I saw the door at the side

“Stay here, I need to see her alone” I said. They nodded so I headed to the door and down the stone steps deeper below the temple. Each stone step was dusty, and felt Ill trodden. 

I got to the chamber firelight cascading across the room and a woman in black knelt on the stone. 

“Greetings My king” she said

“Greetings Lady of the Moon” I said 

“What is it you seak?”

“You know what I seak”

She stopped and turned to me pulling the hood of her dress down revealing her shock white hair 

“You seak her?”

“I do.”

“You know what darkness lurks there?”

“I do. Please…. I need her.”

“I can send you there… but I cannot be held accountable for if you return”

“I know that. But I must see her” 

"....very well. You know where she is"

"Thank you" I nodded hurrying out the temple.

I stood changing my clothes to look plain so I could walk freely wrapping a brown cloak around me, 

"Please let someone accompany you"

"No. I don't wanna scare her. I take an army boy she'll think I'm arresting her, besides I need to be quiet, quick and unnoticed. She already knows I'm coming if she's going to hurt me there is little we can do about it" 

"My king… as one of your oldest and most trusted advisors make I speak plainly"

"Yes."

"I think you are betraying the gods. Your people. And your ansestors. Romulus… I have severed your family my whole life, served your father and mother while you rested in her womb and I have seved you every day you have been king… I beg of you. Do not go to her"

"I must. And honestly…" I said "I want to see her"

"Very well my king" he nods 

I took my things and scurried out the palace like a theif, sneaking thought the city as best I could trying not to draw attention to myself keeping my hood up so people didn't see who I was, I got to the city gate out to the woods seeing travelers coming in to find rooms for the night, women coming in from walks in the woods with there baskets, traders headed in and out but I walked straight out.

I felt so strange but I kept walking deeper and deeper into the woods, walking the pathway between the trees and animal burrows flowing the trail of lavender flowers that grow along the walk, there purple glow in the setting sun leading me to her.

I stopped, as I arrived.

The smell of grass, lavender and smoke filled my sinuses.

The sound of music from within, the wind in the tree's like voices, the movements of the branches and grass all seemed muted here.

I could feel grass and small sticks under my feet.

As I looked apon the house.

It was a small thached cottage with firelight beyond the windows, smoke coming from the chimneys, a wooden fence around the garden where herbs and flowers grew a gate in the fence sat close to me open already, beside the gate was a little apothecary shelf with a few bottles of things.

I stepped inside the gate shutting it behind me pulling down my hood stepping in the stone wedged into the dirt to avoid touching any plants I went to the blue door tapping three times. 

The door creaked open, I exhaled to calm me down before stepping inside, I shut the door behind me looking at the cottage, it was dark the fire going yet it did illuminate much, herbs sat on windowsills and tools in tables, a bed by the side with gosomer red and purple curtains and sheets with lots of pillows, symbols carved into anything wood or stone, the smell of something sweet over the fire and I saw her across the room sat surrounded by candles in her black dress she faced away from me her hair tightly wound around her head, working one something at her desk, lightly humming as she did. 

I stood a moment just listening to her hum, to the fire crack all of it muffled by the sound of my own heart beating in my ears.

"I-" I began

"Romulus Augustus, king of rome, second if his name right, blood of Cesar, the boy king" she says "good evening"

"Good evening miss."

"You don't have to you know"

"Don't have to what?" I asked 

"Go see her. If you would like to come see me romulus you have only to come see me" she says mixing potions

"I like to, so you know I'm coming"

"I always know when your coming" she giggled 

"I know you do. But still"

"I know why your here"

"I don't doubt you do." I said "you know everything else"

"Not everything"

"Almost everything"

"You know I can't romulus. It's not fair"

"How is it not? He believes himself a god carries dark magic with him it's only leveling the battle field"

"And I'm sure he'd say the same if he found out you had first" 

"Y/n. Please"

"My magic isn't strong enough for that romulus"

"Isn't strong enough? I've seen the power you have…" I said going over to her wrapping my arms around her neck and kissing her hair "I know you can. Please… thousands in the city will die if you don't"

"And thousands of them will die if I do" she says turning to face me going to get up and walk somewhere else but I held her hand 

"If your alligence to me? Or to him?"

"Neither of you" she says "I don't fight. For either side" she says moving away to go to the fire

"You've seen what will happen if you don't? Haven't you?"

"I have"

"Tell me"

"No. Knowone should know there-"

"Tell me!" I snapped "by order of the king you will tell me"

"I…. Romulus I can't" she said holding back tears I went over and pulled her to my chest kissing her hair 

"I'll die. Won't I?"

She nods 

"And if you do?"

"Then he dies"

"Y/n… I know that can't be easy. But would you listen anyway?"

"Okay" she nods 

"If you help me, I can give you anything, you'll save thousands of men, women and children in the city, save generations of art, books, sculptures that you'll know he'll destroy if he can and… and I'll owe you my life. And anything I have the power to give you I will. Land, a title, servents, a castle, whatever you want in this world I will do it for you, if you just do this...for me" 

"Romulus, he's my father" she says 

"He abused you, abandoned you, murdered your mother, I know he's your father but he has never once treated you like his daughter," I explain "atleast I wouldn't hurt you, I care about you… my little witch" I smiled caressing her cheek 

"Romulus, you know I can't" she says pushing me away and going back to her work 

"So you'll let me die?" I asked she didn't answer "... I thought you loved me?"

"I do"

"You love me? Your the only one who can help and your going to let me die?" 

"Romulus! I can't"

"Why not?" I asked her "give me one good reason why you can't?" She didn't answer just sitting there staring at the fire "well?"

"Relax. I already did" she smiled 

"What?"

"Seriously romulus I did it hours ago. Before you even left home"

"... You evil little thing! You really had be going there didn't you!"

"It's fun" she giggled 

"What do you need for doing it?" I asked 

"The usual" 

"Alright" I smiled getting the coins out my bag and the little bag of treats from the palace kitchens 

"Thank you" she giggled taking the to put them elsewhere in her house 

"Your welcome my little witch. Thank you for doing so"

"I have to take care of you" she smiled "speaking of which?"

"Is it that time again already?"

"Humm"

"Alright," I smirked slipping off my cloak and my bag leaving them by the door I went over to the bed perching myself on the edge leaning in my elbows as she came over and began untieing my pants hooking her finger into each loop of the string pulling hard and so each loop and knot undid until they where completely untied she pulled them down enough that my cock jumped free excited to see her, I bit my lip hard watching her undo the small leather corset around her waist letting it drop to the floor which allowed her dress that noticably wasn't tied together in the centre as it should have been, she took each side and pulled it off letting it pool in the floor around her leaving her completely naked. I tried not to moan just looking at that beautiful body. She let her hair down completely and pushed me back in the bed I smirked back and moved to be laid in her bed as she crawled ontop of me sitting so my cock nuzzled between the lips of her pussy. I went to touch her breasts but she slapped my hands away 

"You know the rules" she says 

"I know" I blushed "I pledge my heart, my soul and my body, willingly and ...excited" 

"I pledge my heart, my body, and my soul willingly" she giggled before she lent down and kissed me, those lips as soft and sweet as last I was here. I kissed back eagerly as I felt her undoing my shirt so I took over and pulled it off throwing it off the bed she smirked sitting up and next I knew I was inside her 

"Uughhh y/n!" I groaned grabbing her hips feeling how warm and soft she was around me 

She gasped as she reached the hilt and moved over grabbing something from her table as she did the way she leant her breasts where in my face so I smirked nuzzling with them and giving them kisses 

"Romulus!" She giggled pushing me away 

"Aww come on! You can't wave them in my face and not expect me to give them a kiss" I smirked 

“Dirty boy” she smirked holding her knife she cut her hand she offered the knife so I let her cut my hand and I took her hand tightly feeling my heart beating out of my chest as she began to move … 

[athenamikaelson]

So I've been on tiktok like ya do and I found myself in grave cleaning tiktok and I think this sounds so good for a spn fic. Would you be able to write something for reader being a normal civilian and taking on the hobby of cleaning up old graves from overgrown grass and moss and making the stones readable again? The ghosts in the graveyard take a liking to reader and when they see someone being rude towards reader, they terrorize them, leading Sam and Dean to show up on the case. Reader has no idea how she's connected and the ghosts obviously don't like the Winchesters. You can end it how you like! If you don't want to write it that's totally fine!

Sam and Dean Winchester x Reader

Request- So I've been on tiktok like ya do and I found myself in grave cleaning tik tok and I think this sounds so good for a spn fic. Would you be able to write something for a reader being a normal civilian and taking on the hobby of cleaning up old graves from overgrown grass and moss and making the stones readable again? The ghosts in the graveyard take a liking to the reader and when they see someone being rude towards the reader, they terrorize them, leading Sam and Dean to show up on the case. Reader has no idea how she's connected and the ghosts obviously don't like the Winchesters. You can end it how you like! If you don't want to write it that's totally fine!

Warnings- Swearing, Dean and Sam being helpless dorks, An ass named Alec, assault

Word Count- 1877

“Well that should do it Earl.” Rinsing off the last of the grime on Earl Danberry’s grave I start to pack up my grave cleaning kit. A lot of the people in town think I’m weird for cleaning the graves but I really don’t care. Just because these people don’t see a reason doesn’t mean I don’t. One day when I pass and get a gravestone of my own, I hope somebody will do for me what I’m doing now. And I just find it nice to clean them for the souls of the people that inhabit them. 

Packing up the rest of my supplies I start to walk to my car as I feel a cold chill brush against me.

“Thanks again kid.” Earl looks at the girl. Patting her on the shoulder. 

“Earl you do know she can’t hear you right?” Another ghost says behind him from a group of ghosts who come to visit you whenever you come to clean another grave.

“I know but the kids good. She deserves a little thanks. Even if she doesn’t hear it.” A few sounds of agreement come from the group. 

“Ya she is.”

As I’m placing the last of my stuff into the trunk I feel a presence behind me. Whipping around I come face to face with the gravedigger Alec. His stench of B.O and the dirty wife beater he’s wearing are the first things I notice. The second is the grim smirk on his face. It would’ve made me possibly less uncomfortable if there was anyone around us and the sun wasn’t fading but because she things weren’t a chill runs down my spine, but not from the cold.

“Heya darling, cleanen them stupid graves again I see?” Alec’s gruff voice comes out as if he just smoked 2 packs of cigarettes before talking to me. 

“Well I don’t think they’re stupid. They represent these people’s past lives. I would think someone who works here would understand that.” He takes a step closer which instantly makes me step back, hitting the edge of the trunk.

Little do you know the spirits were standing off the the side watching the whole encounter.

“He better not try anything.”

“I’ve always hated him.”

“I’m dead and still have better manners than that ass.”

“If he touches Y/N he’ll regret it.”

“Agreed.”

The spirits all agree as they watch the encounter.

“Well surgah I only do this for the check. Mans got to make a living somehow.” His eyes roam up and down my body as I try to make as much space between us.

“Um, ya sure. Well sorry sir but I really have got to get going, cat to feed and all.” As I’m turning around I feel his hand grab my wrist tightly and pull me towards him. Only now able to smell the wrecking smell of alcohol coming from him. 

 “Not so fast sweetheart. We’re having a nice little chat, no reason to be a bitch and leave now.” I try to pull away but he grabs my hair with his other hand and brings my to him. 

I quickly think and bring my knee up to the place no man wants to get hit and quickly run to my car to get in and lock it once I’m inside. Alec comes up to my window and starts pounding his fists on it slurring out swears as I quickly slam on the gas and leave.

The fuming group of spirits all came to an unsaid agreement. He wasn’t going to get away with that. 

“Let’s get to work.”

Sam’s POV

“So Mr. Benjamin,” looking over to the gravedigger who clearly looks like he needs to take a shower, “can you please tell us what happened?”

The gravedigger looks at Dean and I as if he has someplace better to be. 

“I already told the other cops.”

I was about to open my mouth, but was interrupted by Dean. 

“Well Alec, we’re not the other cops are we?” Den raises a brow at the man who looks at Dean in disgust before rolling his eyes and muttering a “fine”.

“Well I was just at home by myself, which isn’t a usual thing you know,” Dean raises another brow at the guy, already annoyed, “and all of a sudden my cabinets are being flung open and all my dishes are being thrown on the ground, chairs and moving by themselves and then it all stopped.”

“Is that all?” I ask him which earns a look as if I’m the crazy one.

“No.” He lifts the edge of his shirt where the scar of a knife wound is evident. 

“After it stopped a knife just flew up to me, stopped mid-air and threw itself into my side!”

Dean and I share a glance. 

“Do you have any idea who would do this to you? Any enemies in town?” Alec looked down at his feet for a moment as if deciding if he wanted to speak.

 “Mr. Benjamin, anything helps.” 

“Fine. This girl who comes and cleans the graves every now and then  and I got into a disagreement the very day it happened. She’s a witch I tell you. A freak. Who comes in their freetime to clean old dusty graves?!”

“Wait she cleans them just because?”

“What was the argument about?” Dean and I question at the same time. Mine the ladder. 

“Yes she does. And um,” he stops and thinks about his next answer which alerts a red flag to me, “She’s just crazy you know?”

“Ok, can you give us her name please?”

“Y/F/N Y/L/N”

Dean’s POV

Walking up to the house of the Y/L/N girl I look over to Sam.

“Witch?” A confused look crosses both our faces because of the exterior of the house, bright and full of life and color. Not something most witches would live in. 

“Let’s just talk to her first and then decide what to do.”

I walk up to the door and knock expecting an old bag to open the door but am surprised when my eyes meet a youthful Y/E/C.

A look of question in them as I can’t seem to form a question as I stare down at her and take in everything about her. Her Y/H/C that he’d love to run his hands through and your luscious red lips that he couldn’t help but imagine them on- 

“I’m sorry, um could I help you gentlemen?” 

Sam’s POV

A melodic voice enters my ears as I peer to Dean who looks like he’s lost in thought, just staring at the poor girl.

“Yes. Ms. Y/L/N?” The girl sends me an award winning smile that almost makes my knees give out. I can see why Dean can’t speak. But one of us has to.

“Yes we’re with the FBI,” I flash my fake badge and wait for Dean to show his and when I notice he’s still looking at the girl in awe I hit him with my elbow knocking him back into reality.

He quickly straightens up, showing his badge.  

A look of confusion and fear passes the girl's features and at that moment I just want to assure her everything will be ok. Oh shit. Witch Right. 

“Is something wrong? Is someone hurt? Oh, please come in.” She moves out of the way and we make our way to her living room as she leads us. 

“Do you both want anything to drink?” She sends a warm but weary smile our way.

I was about to object, as she might be a witch and all but am quickly interrupted by Dean agreeing quickly. 

As she gets up I send a glare to him which only earns my a sly smile and shrug.

Your POV

After handing the FBI men their teas I quickly sit in my seat putting my hands underneath my legs to keep them from shaking in nervousness at the men,

“What happened?” I ask the taller handsome one. The shorter handsome one has barely said 2 words so I thought I’d have a better chance of getting a response from the tall one. 

“Well a Mr. Alec Benjamin was attacked the other day and he had said that you both had gotten into an argument. We are here to follow up on that. Can you tell us what it was about?” I quickly shift in my seat uncomfortable with the question.

I take a deep breath before I try my best to answer the question. 

“I had just finished cleaning one of the graves when ALec had stopped me by my car. He started talking to me oddly and I smelt the alcohol on him which made me uncomfortable so I tried to walk away but he grabbed me and wouldn't let go. I hit him and I loosen his hold enough for me to get to my car and drive off. I haven’t seen him since.” I let out a shaky breath before leaning back in my seat avoiding the men’s gazes.

Dean’s POV

Oh I’m going to beat the shit out of that motherfuc-

Sam’s POV

I can feel my hand grip tightly onto the side of the chair. That ass should be thankful I didn’t know this when I saw him or I would’ve-

“Is there anything else?” Her small voice makes me relax somehow.

“Um, did you notice anything weird beforehand? Cold spots, static, sulfur?” A look of confusion crosses her face before she bites her lips. Instantly drawing my attention. Please don’t be a witch.

“Sometimes when I’m there I feel coldspots, before I was leaving I felt one. But I hadn’t thought anything of it. Why?”

I send her a small smile. Understanding now what must’ve happened.

“Nothing for you to worry about. I think that’s all the questions we have for today. Thank you for your time.” As we get up I see Dean hand her a piece of paper. 

“Please call me if you ever have any questions.” He sends her a smirk which hides the gleeful look in his eyes. 

“Of course.” She brings us to the door and waves us goodbye as we leave. As soon as she shuts the door I hit Dean in the stomach. 

“Did you just give her your number?”

“Don’t act like you don’t act like you didn’t have the same idea.”

We make it to the hotel room and once I open the door Dean and I stare in disbelief.

The place looks like it just got robbed, sheets thrown everywhere glasses broken. But nothing is missing.

“What the hell happened!” Dean’s gruff voice yells. The same question runs through my head before a chill washes over the room.

“Stay away from Y/N!” Voices boom through the room and Dean and I turn around to face a group of ghosts glaring at us. I’m about to grab a rock salt gun, but when I turn around they’re already gone.

“Please tell me she doesn’t have a bunch of angry spirits as her fairy godmother’s?” I look over to Dean before a small smirk crosses his face.

“That’s cool as fuck.”

Taglist- @akshi8278

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter Three

Master List / Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

Warnings: Canon divergent during Chapter 13 of The Mandalorian, serious pining

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I’m trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We’ll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

***

The trip to Nevarro was hell. 

The Razor Crest now smelled like Baast, and after using his soap, their two scents had blended, and Din was going out of his kriffing mind. He'd taken to sleeping in the cockpit, having given up his cot, but it did little good. 

It was like the essence of her had invaded every part of his home.

He'd started having dreams. Dreams of a world with sand dunes and plains of long grass, where towering forests of old wood grew and swayed in gentle, fragrant breezes. He dreamed of walking the rock and sand trails of jagged mountains, of climbing steep cliffs to drink from sweet falls that appeared out of the clouds.

And when he reached his destination, a rocky outcropping high above the world, a cat leapt over the rocks to land before him. She was sleek lines and dense muscle, her coat tawny, darkening to black over her muzzle and legs. Long tufts of fur drifted in the wind from the tips of her ears, and green eyes watched him with a thousand years of ancient wisdom.

He knelt before the regal creature and pulled off his helmet. She padded closer, circled him once, sniffed him curiously, and began to purr. The rumble soothed his soul, and Din closed his eyes as her sleek, furry cheek rubbed against his.

"Mine," he whispered as he reached for her, waking himself from the dream every time.

By the time they landed on Nevarro, he was desperate for air that didn't smell like Baast. A few more parsecs, he may have done something stupid.

He met her at the gangway with a heavy cloak. "Put this on, draw the hood, and try to remain inconspicuous."

She arched a brow before handing over Grogu. The kid stuck to her like glue, eager to be at her side whenever he was awake. It was a relief to know someone else was watching him, but at the same time, he missed the kid's continual company.

Baast shrugged into the cloak and pulled the hood over her hair before laying her hand on his arm. "Are you well?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You have been distant."

"Just busy." He held out a silver bar roughly three inches long. "Extendable staff, at least until the Alor can get you those sabres."

She smiled at him, the light just catching her fangs. "Thank you, Mando."

He tilted his head but tugged the hood farther forward. "Let's go."

They'd landed well after dusk, assuring a quiet, uninterrupted trip through the streets. Those that lingered paid them no mind used to seeing the silver beskar of an unpainted Mandalorian.

The bar was fairing better after the fight with Moff Gideon. Walls had been repaired, and the damage painted over. 

He walked in and headed straight for the back booth, ignoring the eyes that followed. They knew better than to mess with him, and the music stayed lively.

Karga, however, wasn't alone.

"Karga. Dune," he stated, tossing three pucks on the table. 

"Only three, Mando? I sent you out with four," Karga teased. "Did a quarry finally escape the famed Mandalorian?"

"She's dead; body recovery was impossible."

He watched Cara's eyes flick to Baast and down to Grogu, a smile growing as she pushed from the table. "There's the little womp rat!"

Grogu squealed his happiness, but Baast growled.

The low sound set his hair on end, causing Din to step back, between the woman and his clan. "Cara, not now," he said, no explanation, not sure he had one to give. 

Baast placed her hand on the back of his neck, a place without beskar but covered by his cowl. Still, he felt it like a live wire jolt.

"Usenye!" Baast growled.

"Udesii," Din murmured, turning just enough to know he meant Baast.

"Whoa, someone's touchy," Cara muttered.

Mando didn't need this right now. The longer he stayed here, the more twitchy he felt, like something beneath his skin was itching to claw its way free. "Karga. If they ask, you tell them she's dead."

The man stared at him a long moment, assessing, processing before he gave a short nod. "I will log the information myself." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an ingot of beskar. "For your trouble and the three on your ship."

"Where did you get that?" Din asked, picking up the ingot.

"Took it off some Imps after that last clean up." A second pile of credits, smaller than it should be, landed next. "Consider us even."

"Done," he agreed, hyper-aware of Baast's hand still light against his neck.

"And congratulations, Mando. It isn't every day a Mandalorian takes a riduur."

He felt Baast's fingers twitch but didn't correct Karga's assumption.

"You got married!" Cara gasped, loud enough to cause the bar to pause and look their way. 

One long stare over his shoulder had them minding their business again. 

"Baast'mal. Cara Dune, former shock trooper, now Marshal for the New Republic. Greef Karga, head of the Bounty Hunters Guild, and Magistrate of Nevarro."

"A pleasure," Karga grinned. "Is it true wives put off their armour when they decide to have little warriors?"

Baast snorted. "Di'kutla. Anade knows gar ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya."

Din couldn't help but chuckle. "She says, foolish. Everyone knows you train your sons to be strong, but your daughters to be stronger. My woman is all warrior."

The words slipped out, and he couldn't bite them back. Baast's hand dropped from his nape, but only to lower and slide in at his waist, sneak past layers of beskar and again find flesh barely covered. She pressed closer, a low rumble vibrating between them, and Din felt approval wash from her like a wave.

"Ibic taap, Ni cuy' bat Kyr'nakil," she murmured, low enough only Din heard, informing him she didn't like it there.

He looked down at her, into the deep shadows of her hood as she clutched Grogu to her and found her eyes. This place had her on edge. With her Force sensitivity, he believed her, but he wanted to know why. "Tion'jor?"

"Too many bad feelings," she whispered. "There are hunters, many of them."

He gave a small tilt of his head. "Vaabir val olaror par gar?" he asked, wondering if they came for her.

A slight negative shake. "For news of the child."

Din was instantly enraged and leaned over the table toward Karga. "You're taking a bounty on the kid again?"

"What? No! Of course not!" the man cried in outrage.

"Mando." Cara laid her hand over his. "He hasn't, I swear."

Baast growled, causing Din to move his hand out from under Cara’s and block Baast in the same action. "There are hunters here for news of the kid. Get your cargo off my ship so we can leave." He swiped the credits off the table and turned to go, Karga already barking orders.

Din wasn't surprised when Baast's fingers snuck to the crook of his elbow. Or, he wasn't as surprised as he should be. A riduur walked where her mate could protect them and any children they might have. Her position kept her secure against him while hiding them behind a wall of beskar and weapons, handled by a highly dangerous predator.

"Mando, wait," Cara said, blocking their path. "Come to my place. You can rest, eat, and I can see the kid. I missed him."

Baast's fingers twitched. 

"Cara," he hesitated.

"Please. We're friends. Let a friend toast your good fortune."

Another low warning growl rippled from Baast when Cara touched his arm.

"She has nayc staabi!" Baast snarled.

Din looked down at her. "Technically, neither do you."

Her hand snapped off his arm like he'd burned her, shock and disappointment so profound it hurt, hit him like a rampaging mudhorn. 

She took a step in retreat, Grogu clinging to her, the kid looking just as devastated. 

What had he done? Kriff! Why would he say that?

"Baast!" he shouted but was too late as she spun on her heel and raced from the cantina. "Kriff!" he bellowed and gave chase, Cara hot on his heels.

"What the hell was that, Mando?" Dune demanded as they slammed through the doors only to find a deserted street. 

"Not your concern."

"Mando!" She grabbed him by the vambrace. She had no way of knowing how close he came to putting her through the wall. "What's really going on? Who is she?"

"You wouldn't understand. It's a Mandalorian thing." He shook her off and looked for Baast's tracks. 

It didn't surprise him at all when they went up a wall and over the roof.

Din took off after her, climbing as if his armour weighed nothing, leaving Cara behind to curse and swear. He followed long strides for some distance as she ran across roofs, finally leaving the residential district to head into a more industrial area. 

Again her tracks went up, and he followed, climbing the narrow ladder to the top of a tower that looked out over Nevarro. He found her there; knees pulled to her chest, the hood thrown back, clinging to Grogu as the kid did his best to stroke the tears from her face.

"Baast." 

She jerked but didn't move. "Go away, Mandalorian."

"I can't." He went to her and knelt, intent on taking her in his arms, only to have deadly claws close around his throat. 

"You have not the right," she snarled, her eyes piercing him through the beskar.

Grogu huffed and sighed, appearing at once both annoyed and exasperated.

"Nayc staabi. No right, that's what you said about Cara."

Baast snarled. "If you want the shock trooper so badly, have her!" she snapped, pushing him back with strength, causing him to rock on his heels.

"I don't, and she doesn't want me. She would be more inclined to go for you," he chuckled.

She blinked big green eyes. "Oh…" Her hand slowly relaxed until it lay on his chest.

This time when he gathered her close, she didn't resist. "Forgive me. I said something stupid."

"But true," she sighed. "You did not dispute the claim of riduur. I knew it meant nothing but got caught up in my role. You are free to do what you wish with whomever you wish," she sighed.

Din didn't think. He didn't plan his next move. It was like instinct demanded he act, and so he did.

"Baast. Close your eyes."

She did so without hesitation or question as Din stripped off his gloves. The helmet hissed when he released it, causing her brow to twitch. Before he took it off, he wrapped his arm around her and covered her eyes with his hand.

"Din?" she whispered, her uncertainty clear. 

"Trust me," he murmured, lifting his helmet free with his other hand. They were too high up for anyone to see, and the moons had yet to rise, leaving them bathed in shadows. 

Grogu cooed and sat down a few feet away, apparently content to let the adults sort this out on their own.

Din gave him a last look before setting his helmet down and raising that hand to lightly, tenderly, stroke her face. "I don't want just anyone," he whispered, unable to deny what was written in his heart. "Just you," he sighed and lightly brushed their mouths together. 

He'd never kissed anyone before, but he wanted to kiss Baast. 

***

Din woke with a jolt and a clang of beskar as he fell out of the pilot's chair and onto the floor. 

He lay there confused and disoriented until he realized the entire thing had been a dream. 

He groaned softly enough that it didn't leave the safety of his helmet and pushed to his hands and knees before sitting back on his thighs. This trip was going to kill him. The dream had been far too real.

He picked himself off the floor and looked up to find Grogu smirking at him. "Don't start."

The kid gurgled a noise that shouldn't in any way have been cute but somehow still was.

"Hungry?" Din asked.

Grogu waddled closer, arms up.

"Of course you are. When are you not hungry?" he chuckled, picking up the kid and heading for the ladder down into the belly of his ship. 

He was just getting Grogu situated when the door to the fresher opened, revealing Baast in nothing but a towel. 

She jolted in surprise. "I did not expect… you… I…" A bright blush bloomed darkly across her cheeks. Then, she straightened, lifting her chin like a royal, firming her composure. "You have not joined us for meals as of late. I did not expect you and have washed my clothing."

His mouth was desert dry when he attempted to speak, but no words emerged, and Din was grateful for the helmet that hid his gaping mouth. He stared for too long before stepping away from Grogu and his gruel toward Baast. She stiffened, hand flexing where she clutched the cloth closed, but the Zentari didn't back down.

Din moved with cautious steps to the crates piled against the wall and shoved two over before picking up the third and setting it down on top of the others. From within, he pulled out blue silks. "I have this if you want it."

A regal brow arched, her wet hair sleek and sticking to her now brushed the tops of her thighs. "Why does a Mandalorian have a courtesan's dress in his belongings?"

He flinched, having hoped she wouldn't recognize it. "Because an assassin dressed as a courtesan attempted to kill me, but not until after she'd taken her clothes off."

Baast eyed the cloth a moment longer before gliding forward to pluck it from his fingers. "Did she succeed in the seduction?"

"No. That's why she was naked. She made a poor courtesan."

"Hmm," purred from her as she walked back into the fresher, and the door closed behind her. "And you have simply kept it lying around?" she called through the door.

Did she sound jealous, or was he still dreaming? "It's not something a Mandalorian can walk into the market and sell without garnering a second look."

"You were not, perhaps, keeping it for your riduur?"

The door opened, and Din forgot how to speak. Blue silk fell in sleek lines from the golden band that bared the under curve of her breasts. She swept out and headed for Grogu, sailing past him, her damp hair leaving a dark stain on the skirt. 

"I haven't thought much about a riduur." Before now. 

He followed her like a Bantha would a Tuskin Raider, and when she sat to help Grogu with his food, Din came to a stop behind her. 

She looked up, but he knew the beskar made it hard for her to read him. "Is it that terrible? Do I not make a passable courtesan?"

"More than passable," escaped his mouth, his brain still malfunctioning. "But your hair is dripping."

"Wet hair does that," she teased him with a smile.

"May I?"

She blinked as he began to strip off his gloves. "Din?"

"Let me," he murmured, running his fingers like a comb through her thick locks. He sat on a crate and worked free what few tangles had formed before splitting the mass in half. He began the plait high, working it smooth against her scalp and down behind her ear. When his fingers brushed the pointed tip, a shudder raced through her, but a low, happy purr followed. He made it to the end and used a scrap piece of leather to bind the long braid. 

"How is it that a Mandalorian knows how to do a woman's hair with the skill of a maid?"

He froze, fingers full of sand-coloured silk. "My mother," he murmured. "I once did it for my mother."

Her hand closed gently on his knee, Baast reaching back, otherwise staying still for him. "A good memory, I hope."

"One of my only good memories," he murmured, finishing the section close to her skull and swiftly plaiting the rest. Once he tied the end, she turned to look up at him and left him breathless. 

He'd never seen a more mesh'la creature. Men would spend their entire fortune for one night with her. But Din looked at her and saw her dressed in the ornaments of a riduur. Beskar bands for her braids, the cuff that would circle her upper arm and proudly display the mark of the mudhorn, proclaiming her part of his clan. The beskar breastplate that would be hers the moment their first child was born.

"Then, I am pleased to help you remember it." She stroked one of the thick plaits. "I am happy to offer myself to your ministrations in the future, should you so desire to assist me again."

Vital portions of his anatomy tightened, causing him to rise swiftly and step away from her tempting allure. "We'll be in Nevarro soon. I'll see about more suitable clothing when we get there."

He climbed the ladder back to the cockpit, knowing damn well he was running away.

***

riduur -  spouse

Usenye! - Go away!

Udesii - Calm down.

Ibic taap, Ni cuy' bat Kyr'nakil - This place, I am on edge

Tion'jor - why

Vaabir val olaror par gar - do they come for you

 nayc staabi - no right

 ***

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