#i hope the white lilies makes sense :

[r26yz]

now I've spent myself in lines and lost. where is that boy of yesteryear?

let him die young and leave a pretty corpse: die with his legs in the air

[dogw1tch]

Enclosed Within🌿

18+ Dryads x Gender Neutral Reader

(Tentacles, sex pollen, reader has afab anatomy)

DogWitch’s notes: I figured I would post some short stories while I work in a much larger project. I don’t think dryads get enough love so instead here’s a little story of them giving reader pLEANTY of it.

Summary: Lost and alone you stumble across a beautiful grove. There’s something in the air that seems to have you desperate and burning up from the inside. Perhaps grinding against the dew soaked moss might soothe you? I’m sure the vines starting to enclose your body are just regular plants.

It had been a long time now since you had found yourself cut off from the rest of your hunting party, and the dapple of gold on the moss covered ground told you that dusk was not far away. You paused again, listening, observing, searching for any sign that might help you get your bearings. Nobody ventured into the forest unless they were sure they could defend themselves against the creatures within and this was not the first time you had needed to navigate home from an unfamiliar place. It was, however, the first time you had done so alone. You grip your bow a little tighter. It was a warm evening and the cloying air had you sweating beneath your linen shirt that now clung to your chest. The cooing and flittering of birds was beginning to quiet now in the fading sun and beneath it you could hear exactly what you’d be waiting for. The gentle murmuring of running water.

Moving swiftly, bow at the ready, you follow the little stream down through the forest. Your village had been built in the valley and all the forest streams connected to the water mill there- therefore, so long as you followed the running water, you could never stray far from home. You had been walking for a few minutes, keeping a keen eye out for any familiar landmarks, when the brook you followed abruptly came to an end. Looking up you take in the strange scene. The brook had opened up into a large pool, spring green with duck weed and lilies, surrounded by moss-covered rocks. Nestled in every crevice of every boulder were fungi of every variety. Tiny white fairy caps to sprawling shelves of orange and brown gills. Some you recognise but most you do not. And above all of this there stretched the branches of a glorious willow tree. Its bows were thick and draped over the grove like a protective embrace.

A strange smell began to pull at your senses as you stood there; something sweet and heady that mingled with the petrichor. You noticed that a light, yellow dust seemed to be falling from the branches of the willow. Tiny particles that caught the light and danced through the air. You find the scent intoxicating, almost addictive, as you breathe deeply into it. It seems to coat your throat with sticky sweetness, like nectar from the most vibrant honeysuckle. As you take in this glorious new experience, you find yourself becoming increasingly uncomfortable in your dampening clothes. The material clung to you, restricting, making you feel hot and over sensitive. Perhaps it was your mind becoming dazed in the sweet air, but it seemed the only solution was to peel off your now drenched, clothing and sit, completely exposed, in the cool, damp moss. The water on your skin instantly soothed the heat that was building up in and around you, and you sighed contentedly, digging your fingers deeper into the mosses and leaves. Your mind had now become so clouded and vague, you struggled to remember how you got here. All you could think about was the cool moss soothing the sticky heat that now seemed to be coming from inside your body.

You began to buck your hips against the rock, hoping the cold surface that rubbed against your entrance might cool your insides. Little waves of pleasure began to radiate through your body as you moved your hips faster, grinding down on the rock beneath you. Your lips opened to gasp for fresh air but all that entered your lungs was that same sickly sweet that dulled your mind and set your nerves ablaze. You let out a whine of frustration and continue to rut against the moss, your own juices mixing with the dew. It was then, as you felt the heat would surly overtake you, that you felt a voice speak within the back of your mind.

‘So easy. So quick to submit. Poor thing.’

With that, the bows of the willow were suddenly upon you, twisting around your limbs and lifting you from the ground to hang, suspended above the lake. You couldn’t even find it within yourself to be alarmed as the loss of friction had you bucking desperately against the air.

‘So needy’

The voice came again, though now it seemed to be joined by a thousand others that echoed its words.

‘Worry not little one. We shall fill you up.’

The whole grove started to shift to life around you, mushrooms and ferns and flowers all shifting into new forms that stared up at you. The branches that bound you, held your arms behind your back and spread your legs wide, revealing your dripping entrance for all these creatures to see. For the first time, your mind began to attempt to shake off its fog and you struggled against your restraints. But they only tightened as the willow lowered you down into the crowd of waiting creatures bellow.

For a moment, they simply observed you. Each one looked different; with features humanoid enough to be recognisable as a face, but with knowing, pupal- less eyes and bodies that flowed into tangles of glistening, vine like tendrils. There was a moment of silence where you could hear nothing but your own racing heart before…

‘Come my children; drink your fill.’

The dryads swarmed around you, wanting to touch and fill every inch of your aching body. Thick tendrils flicked between your folds, coating you with thick nectar before pushing inside. The thin vines of smaller creatures forced their way in beside them and you could feel each of them curling inside you, pumping in and out, sending waves of pleasure through your desperate body. Finding your slick entrance to be full, a dryad that was clearly once a bright fairy cap mushroom, made its way behind you and began to push into your tight ass. You yelped in pain as the engorged head of one of its appendages suddenly filled you, stretching you out. If they heard, the creatures payed no mind as they begin to toy with this new hole, filling it just as achingly full. The pain dulled into overwhelming pleasure as the feeling of countless, slick tendrils fucking deep inside you overtook your fogged out mind. Your hips twitched uselessly and your mouth hung open in drooling, wanton moans.

As soon as your lips parted, you realised your mistake. Vines came curling up your body, encasing you completely and filling your open mouth. You gagged and spluttered but they t kept coming, writhing down your throat. They felt cool on your tongue and their slick was sweet as honey and you found yourself relaxing into the sensation as the lack of air just added to the heady state of your mind. You moaned around the tentacles, limp and pathetic as you could do nothing but feel pleasure.

‘That’s it.’ The voice came again. ‘Let go little one. Let us have you. Let us have every inch of you.’

You had no way of knowing how long you spent, bound up and being filled by countless creatures. Every time one seemed to finish, thrusting deep and releasing its thick, sweet nectar, another just curled its way around and inside you. Honey came leaking from every hole, coving your skin, your face, your hair. The dryads closed in around you and pressed you flush to their cool, damp skin. Perhaps you began to fade in and out of consciousness, waking up only to feel such overwhelming pleasure that you passed out again. But at some point, you realised as you took your first full gasp of air, they all retreated. You felt so empty, bound and dripping with nothing to fill you. The dryads still gathered around, their empty eyes seemed now to be softer, perhaps affectionate, as a few reached out their strange limbs to brush your hair from your eyes and gently caress your body. In your fucked out daze you leant into the touch, craving more, but you felt the willow begin to lift you up again. The tree twisted you around to face its trunk and revealed it to have become a creature of incredible size. Like the dryads below, it had an angular, almost insect like, face and huge, all knowing eyes. But this one had hands too, that reached out and cupped your tiny body within them. It bore a crown of sticks and leaves and it seemed to smile at you, though its face was hard to read.

‘You have done well, little one.’ It didn’t have a mouth to move but you knew now who had been addressing you. ‘So well, in fact, that I should like a taste of you myself.’ It’s gigantic hand wrapped around your waist and held you with ease. You looked down to see that, emerging from what was once the trunk of the great willow, there sat a single, thick, tentacle-like branch. It was thicker than any other that had filled you and seemed to be longer than you were tall. It glistened with nectar and twitched slightly as the dryad drew you close.

‘Fit… it won’t… too big..’ you tried to stutter out, struggling to form a coherent thought. A low laugh rumbled around you, shaking the earth.

‘Worry not little one. I shall not hurt you. You shall feel only pleasure.’

Before you could protest, that overwhelming fullness took you over once more and you cried out in ecstasy. The creature used your body like you weighed nothing, fucking all the nectar that had collected inside, deep into your stomach. You watched as your abdomen bulged against its ungodly size and pressed against every nerve, sending waves of delirious pleasure through you.

‘Such a pretty body, made to be filled. That’s it little one, give yourself to me.’

It moved you faster, your limbs limp and useless as your mind went blank. You were simply a toy to be used for this creature’s pleasure, it’s strange cock filling you completely, stretching you around it until it felt like the most natural thing in the world. You wanted it. You wanted to stay full and delirious forever.

‘I’m yours…’ you choked out a whisper as ropes of thick honey began to bubble inside you. The creature didn’t stop, pushing itself deeper as it emptied into you. You were so full you could taste it.

‘All mine’

The world went dark.

***

It was around three days later when your hunting party finally found you. They had located your clothes, stuck in a brook and feared you had been accosted by some brutish thieves or roaming orcs. Following the stream though, they came to the pool and saw you, leant up against a great willow. You were naked, hair sticking to your forehead but clearly breathing and without injury. They called out to you, relieved that you seemed unharmed. The only strange thing was that you seemed to be almost completely covered in plants. Moss was growing over your legs and vines enclosed around every inch of your body. It looked as though you had been here for years.

One hunter approached, calling your name to no response but a few feeble moans. They must be starved, she thought, as she knelt beside you. But looking closer, she realised your moan was not one of pain, but one of gentle pleasure. Between your legs there sat several mushrooms, seemingly taking turns to push their way inside your swollen entrance. A thin vine flicked, absent- mindedly, at your clit and more still seemed to be caressing your dew covered body. Your friend reached out a hand, trying to shake you awake when suddenly, the moss itself seemed to open its eyes and let out a viscous hiss. She stumbled back to find all of the plant life was seemingly staring at her with a hateful glare.

Perhaps they would just have to leave you here after all.

[youryurigoddess]

Gabriel’s (missing) cross

Let’s put everything we know about that spooky statue of the Archangel Gabriel in one thread to make the conversation about its possible meaning as a Good Omens 3 clue more structured. Starting off with the relevant part of the official commentary from X-Ray:

Douglas Mackinnon got one thing wrong in his part of the interview — Gabriel wasn’t carved by “some guy in Italy,” but a British sculptor and prop maker David Field working as a part of the team at 3DEye in London.

Technically speaking, it’s a gorgeous piece of hand-carved expanded polystyrene with a clay sculpted head on top of it — even if the Archangel’s smug likeness isn’t that pleasant to look at, all things considered. The scenic artists from 3DEye made it look like stone afterwards.

The body itself took ten days to sculpt and is a faithful copy of the famous statue on Ponte Sant'Angelo in Rome called Angel with the Cross by Ercole Ferrata. It stands on the inscription “Cuius principatus super humerum eius” (“Whose government shall be upon His shoulder”, Isaiah 9:16), and this quote makes much more sense for Gabriel than the cross in his hands. The usual iconography of the Archangel uses a trumpet or a white lily instead.

Ponte Sant'Angelo was originally used to expose the heads of those sentenced to death — each of the angelic statues on it carry Arma Christi, the Instruments of the Passion. Like the Second Coming, what seems to be a hopeful message to the Chosen Ones can also be a warning for the others.

The statue of Gabriel, first shown in full in the cemetery scene of the Good Omens 2 title sequence, reappears at the very end as a part of the bridge leading to the biggest Easter egg — at least according to Peter Anderson, the animator behind it — which is the lift in the background, implying how we’re getting closer towards the Second Coming. Notice how the cross broke down in half at some point between these two scenes!

And it disappears in the plot as well: Gabriel’s memory depicts it only from his point of view, with the camera deliberately moving slightly to the right and stopping at his eye level. The centered, establishing shots show the statue with empty hands as a bookend.

I believe that this cross is meant to serve as a foreshadowing, a reminder of the absolution of sins and eternal life through Christ’s sacrifice and Second Coming. We see it only through Gabriel and Aziraphale’s eyes — when Beelzebub looks at the statue, the cross is not there.

As seen in the BTS photos and videos, it’s not an editing error, but a deliberate positioning of the physical props on set. The cross was clearly meant to be a removable part of the statue and displayed in a specific way to convey a message to the audience.

The question remains: is it a reassurance, something to look forward to, or maybe rather a warning?

Not helpfully at all, the traditional use of angelic imagery in Christian cemeteries matches both interpretations.

[burnorgetburned]

EVEN MORE CLARA DOLL DETAILS:

So you know how the Dolls have their own distinctive clothes?

Guess who else has their own distinctive clothes!

That’s right. The multiple Homuras are actually Clara Dolls.

And that’s why ‘Homura’ is smiling.

Here they are! The one with the striped hat is Nekura (Gloominess or Pessimism) and the one with the flower is Mie (Vanity).

Here’s their descriptions from the art book.

[The second one to come was Gloominess. Walking out with a tapping sound, she sneered at Good-for-Nothing. “This is Good-for-Nothing! How very unbecoming.” These dolls are only disciples of Freedom, and are devoted to their lust for it.]

[The tenth to come running is Vanity. She exaggeratedly avoids Good-for-Nothing's head and says a few words. “I wouldn't be able to bear dirtying my cape with that sticky blood!” These dolls make fun of the witch's self-mutilation.]

Good-for-Nothing is Homura, by the way, but the Clara Dolls seem to consider Good-for-Nothing to be good for something after all after she splits Madoka. She turns into the Devil, and the Clara Dolls are stated to be “okay” with the Devil. If the young voices in the trailer belong to the Clara Dolls, then they also call her “Akuma-sama” now. Something like Mistress Devil, implying a sense of respect.

[… if they are not summoned, they will simmer. There are orders they will comply with, and also orders they will disobey. What they are and the witch herself's own magic are not well understood.]

At the end of Rebellion, Homura gave Madoka her ribbon back. She declared that they might become enemies in the end. Honestly, I thought that Homura would try her best to avoid Madoka entirely. The trailer suggested that Homura was meeting Madoka, though. Here’s the answer: it wasn’t Homura herself, but Gloominess, who wants freedom.

Now, I’m not sure how this situation works out. Do Clara Dolls have free will? Are they obeying Homura’s orders? Acting out Homura’s true emotions? Is Homura perhaps directly puppeteering them in order to fulfill her goals, or do they act on their own?

I find it likely that it’s a mix of both: some of them obey her, and some of them will try and fulfill her (probably very conflicting) desires, as familiars usually do. Gloominess is likely part of Homura who wants the freedom to talk to Madoka, for example, but Vanity seems to me like a Clara Doll who is obeying Homura. After all, she still needs magical girls to fight wraiths, at least until she finds a way to wipe them out.

[I'm Vanity (Mie). I'm pushing myself to the limit for someone.] And she is, of course. All of the theatrics, the calls, the organization of magical girls. These are things that Vanity is shown to engage in. All of this is for Madoka.

We see with Gloominess, at least, that she seems to be fulfilling a specific desire: in the background are white spider lilies. Instead of the red spider lilies that mean death, final goodbyes, and lost love, white spider lilies mean a hope for the future and a fresh start. Maybe this really is the first meeting for these two in a while, and she wants to be friends again?

Or maybe, being Gloominess, she wants to warn her about something.

[I'm Gloominess (Nekura). Forcing smiles tires me out.]

Then there’s this Homura.

Nothing about her clothes is very different. She is wearing ribbons as Homura in the wraith universe does, but look closely: the ribbons are different. They have some wavy stripes on them, while Madoka’s ribbons are plain. She does not correspond to any known Clara Doll.

However, there’s mentioned to be a fifteenth Clara Doll that is not yet born: Ai, representing love. This could be her. Is it love for others? Or love for herself? I’m hoping it’s the latter, but very likely it’s love for Madoka and her friends. This would explain why she’s trying to fight Homucifer in the poster, as Homura believes that she’s a danger to everyone else.

How can this be? Well, here’s a few options:

- The Clara Dolls are grown-up familiars. They ate souls, and they became a copy of their witch. This is a process that was explained to us in the original series, where some magical girls are stated to farm familiars by letting them eat people so that they would grow souls/grief seeds.

- The Clara Dolls are not familiars, or wraiths, but instead a secret third thing. “What they are and the witch’s own magic are not well understood”, as said in the Rebellion art book. They could be magical constructs of a different kind, but I do think that this would get into overcomplicated explanations quickly, so I favor the familiar explanation.

- The Clara Dolls could be familiars, but instead of eating souls they’re simply powerful enough to change their shape. Their strength is equal to the strength of a magical girl…. when Homura was a witch, before Homura became something more. It could also be energy from the contracts making them stronger. Maybe it’s me being sentimental, but I don’t like the idea of Homura letting anyone’s soul be nommed on.

Now, before there’s a panic about how they’ll juggle fifteen extra characters, here’s a few thoughts:

- Just because they seem different doesn’t mean they’re actually different. It might be that the Clara Dolls are a way for Homura to present herself. As Vanity, she might show off more, or have dramatic flourishes like her throne and her dress. As Gloominess, it might be that she doesn’t believe that her plans will work, so she tries to do what makes her happy. It’s likely that the Clara Dolls are just extra ways to explore Homura’s character. They’re parts of her soul, after all, and right now she is extremely powerful. She might simply want to keep her true self away from humans.

- They could work like projections. Homura wants more bodies to work with, but she has to filter herself through the Dolls’ personalities. This could result in a lot of juicy character interactions, as the things she tries to keep hidden are closer to the surface.

- Will ‘Ai/Mystery Homura’ fight against Devil Homura? Very likely! How can this be when they’re the same person? Well, who hates Homura more than Homura? That’s right. Nobody. Anyone can fight and argue with their self, it’s just usually not on the level that a reality-warper like Homura can manage.

If this is true, there’s plenty of interesting directions they can take it.

- Because the Clara Dolls have a degree of separation from Homura, they can show other characters things that Homura herself has ignored or locked away. Bad memories, affection for her friends, the resentment she must feel - everything from concern to a cry for help can be plausibly shown through them as the actors.

- Manuke (Stupidity) is specifically more naive/sincere than the others. Maybe interacting with this Doll would show the Quintet that there’s something more going on than a Devil who wants to hurt other people.

- If Ai represents a love for other people, Ai can have a strange character arc where she learns to value Homura/herself, and become self-love.

- On the other hand, Ai can represent self-love from the start, and because Homura looks very fucking unhealthy in the trailer, she only wants to stop her because she’s hurting herself. This option plays into the themes of self-sacrifice and happiness, which I believe to be some of the major themes that they’re going for.

- The poster could be misleading and Ai ends up fighting everyone but Homura. I find this the funniest option.

- Homura can hug herself. It’s possible. In fact, every character can hug Homura 15 different times.

Smiles are a Clara Doll’s default expression. We have yet to see Homura smile for real.

Is this going to get very ambiguous and confusing? Probably. But rewatching for details was the fun part in Rebellion, so I’m looking forward to it!

[randomstoryenjoyer]

Hey I love your stories and your 'white lily's fall' gave me an idea for a request...for a story!

Imagine a witch (y/n) at first baked cookies to try to make a friend but as they kept running away...it gave y/n an idea! If they run away...why not make a track and make em race? So now y/n bakes them to either run a normal race or an obstacle course race to the window to escape amd y/n even put something under their window to cushion their fall so they wouldn't crumble and can simply run out to join the cookie world! Also the obstacles are harmless and not deadly like if they fail an obstacle, they just land on something soft and can walk over to some stairs or a ladder and try again! Ofcourse the finish line is the window!

Oh and whenever they race, y/n chooses one cookie to cheer on as they sit to the side, watching, and hopes that said cookie wins the race...again for entertainment! Maybe they even pretend to be a racing announcer as they race!

And imagine if other cookies found out...like, one possible idea is DE flying along, plotting against the witches when they suddenly hear hearing like: "AAAAAND RED ICING COOKIE MANAGED TO JUMP OVER THAT MASSIVE GAP! SO IMPRESSIVE! THE CROWD IS GOING WILD!" followed by y/n trying to impersonate a crowd cheering like crazy! So DE goes to investigate aaaaand finds Y/n racing cookies instead of eating them! Or maybe some other cookie like gingerbrave finds them! Just some ideas but can't wait to see what you come up with for this concept and curious what ideas you'll have lol!

Possible to add on, putting this possible add on here incase ya wanna add it: Y/n also keeps track of the races and the winners in a book and also timed it to see which cookie they've baked is the fastest and if a cookie read the book, they'll know that y/n raced cookies LOTS of times!

The Witch’s game

Rugelach Cookie’s breath hitched as they swerved left to right, their little legs scuttering as fast as they ever had before… he was so close to the end… all that was left was to…

”AAAAAND TRAGEDY STRIKES! RUGELACH COOKIE HAS FALLEN DOWN! HERE COMES COCONUT FLAKE COOKIE TO SNAG THE WIN!”

With the finish line crossed and window reached, Coconut Flake Cookie stood proud and delighted as he received the witch’s praise, eventually jumping out the window. Rugelach Cookie was left to get back up and head back to his place, however, if one looked closely, they could see that he was hiding a giddy smile…

———————————————————————

Due to being a witch, your life consisted mostly of isolation, except for the odd meeting with other fellow witches here and there. Thus, you came up with the idea of creating your own friends by baking cookies to give life to! It was an easy goal to achieve… if not for the fact that every cookie you baked always ran away and jumped out the window.

This kept going for multiple baking sessions, each one making you more annoyed when the results showed no sign of changing. Eventually though, it began to make sense to you. No matter their size or origins, living cookies were still as much as individuals as anybody else, little creatures with a desire to leave the nest and live a life of their own, instead of being stuck inside a witch’s kitchen with a giant being looming over them. It was just something you had to accept.

This led to a new idea develop: if they insisted on running, why not put them through a race? From then on, your lair became a small race arena. All you needed to set up was a long path that led to the window as the finish lane, and then fill it with many different types of (non-lethal) obstacles for each race. The first cookie to reach the window would have the prize of being able to jump out of it and live in the outside world! You didn’t actually know what the cookies did in the outside world, but it didn’t really bother you.

Between races, the cookies you baked would get their own resting village inside your lair, where they could all gather around and interact with one another, most conversations being about what laid outside the windows of your lair… what existed below the glimmering moon and stars they saw every night…

As for you, you decided to make the most out of your idea, sitting to the side during the races and choosing a specific cookie to cheer on, acting like a wild crowd. The first contestant cookies you baked were a bit confused at your odd actions, but eventually began to even enjoy them.

Oh, enjoy them they eventually did. It soon got to the point where the racing cookies would begin getting weirded out if you didn’t act like a crowd going wild over the contestants. Your cheers and howls of excitement directed at them soon became the main motivation for being willing to take part in the races, to the point that they sometimes even forgot what they even were originally racing for!

Slowly but surely, talks amongst the cookies every night in the resting village shifted from wonders about the outside world to gushing over the the witch in the audience seats, mostly led by the very first racing cookies that you had baked. More recently baked cookies were swift to join the talks about you, but it was the older ones who truly prided themselves knowing the most about the witch who baked them.

Many cookies soon began seeing the races in a different light: why would they want to go to the outside world when they had you and your praises in this cozy home? Surely staying with you wouldn’t be that bad as originally thought!

During these last few days, you’ve started noticing how… clumsy some of the cookies were during the race. A bit slow of slow running, a few of them missing a some.simple jumps, and taking extra long to get back to the racetrack once they failed an obstacle… and the numbers of the cookies doing it increased day by day. Despite the fact that it opened up a bigger chance for cheers and announcements from your audience stand, it still felt a bit suspiciously random.

If only you knew just how much your presence and cheers meant to your cookies at this point…

However, these didn’t end up being the only cookies that were aware of your races, as new ones would soon know about you…

———————————————————————

Dark Enchantress Cookie was busy scouting out the area with her cake witch carrying her as always, looking for more places to build her cake army in while the rest of the cookies of darkness were busy with her other demands, when she suddenly heard a loud cheer from not too far away.

Her instincts very much telling her that this voice she heard was a dreadful witch, she made her way to the source of the sound a fast as she possibly could, expecting to see what she had seen during the fateful night of the witches.

Instead, all she found was a witch… watching cookies run from one place to another?

She stood there, just watching the scene unfold. The excited look on the cookie’s faces, the enthusiasm of the witch, the complete lack of any cruelty of mischievousness on the witch’s voice and actions. It didn’t make any sense to her at all. Witches weren’t like this. They weren’t meant to be! She saw it all in the night of the witches!

She remained still for so long that her cake witch had began to stare at her with slight discomfort, wondering why its master had gone stiff for such a long time.

Dark Enchantress Cookie remained quiet within her mixed thoughts. Seeing cookies who weren’t baked with the intention to be eaten seemed to have rattled her mind a bit. After all, her view on the witch’s uses for cookies was the whole reason she had become who she was. But now, her initial plans for Earthbread seemed to have a small flaw in it. Unprepared for this extra factor in her equation

Leaving the area before she got any more hooked onto the ongoing scene, Dark Enchantress Cookie planned to order her subordinates to come visit in this place frequently… and to inform her all they find out about you specifically.

———————————————————————

With sightings of the cookies of darkness having been reported around this area, Gingerbrave had decided to come check this place out, trying to find out what the COD’s plans in this area were.

What he didn’t expect to run into however, was the lair of a witch! His mind already bringing him flashbacks of his very first living moments, he felt tempted to just run away instantly, and yet, something in his mind kept telling him to explore this new landmark. The vibe he got from this place was… unexpected, for lack of a better word.

Imagine his surprise when, instead of seeing the worst kind of cookie torture devices or other scariest stuff that he could think of, the first thing he saw was a small village full of many cookies who were all excitedly discussing something! He was too far to hear them properly, but judging from all the chatter, it was clear they were all discussing about the same thing.

Deciding to keep exploring, he’d carry on sneaking, now laying his eyes upon every nook and cranny of his surroundings, until he jumped in surprised at the sudden loud voice:

“GOOD MORNING, COMPETITORS! WHO’S READY FOR THE NEXT RACE?!”

Peeking out of cover, Gingerbrave’s eyes widened as he took in the view. Many of the cookies from the small resting village were all lining up to the race track, all cheering and looking up at the witch that had announced the start of the race.

Once it began, his eyes almost sparkled when he saw it all. All the cookies running, looking like they were having the time of their lives, and the loud cheers you were giving towards the racing cookies, it almost made him feel a bit sad and jealous that he wasn’t a part of it…

Too distracted by the ongoing event, Gingerbrave accidentally knocked into a book that fell down in front of him and opened. Curious by your handwriting on it, he skimmed a few pages and realised that this book recorded all the races you had ever had… you’ve been doing this for a long time! And he and the rest of his fellow cookies of Earthbread weren’t aware of you? The very first nice witch in probably forever?

Beginning to see this place in a new light, he began coming up with a plan to tell his friends about this new discovery… and possibly to sneak into your lair again and maybe try to disguise as your racer cookies too… all for the chance of getting to participate in on the fun, and receiving your wonderful cheers too…

Now you have two groups of cookies sneaking into your races, trying to blend themselves in as a part of the cookies you baked. They were all confident you wouldn’t notice the difference.

You did.

[gentaro-kinniecom]

In another life, perhaps

Characters: Love and deepspace boys x gn!reader

C/w: Angst, events in which the boys remember a specific memory with you before returning to the reality. Reader calls Rafayel “Raf” for short and he calls them his beloved. First person pov !

A/n: I’ve never almost written angst before so 😭 I’m in the making of a few love and deepspace fanfics so..we’ll see <3

Xavier

It was the first time I’d see him cry. Xavier’s tears ran down his cheeks while looking up at the stratosphere. The stars seemed to shine bright for him, as Xavier turned towards me, he held my hand close to his chest where his heartbeat was. Almost as if he didn’t want to let go, I then looked up at the same starry sky that he was staring at a few moments ago. A shooting star appeared suddenly, my eyes never leaving it as I spoke.

“Did you make a wish?” I inquired, wiping his tears away while watching as he drew me closer.

“Yes, of course I did”

“What did you wish for?” His eyes were glossy as Xavier responded, brushing stray hairs away from my face.

“I wished..to have you by my side, always.” I chuckled, hitting his chest slightly as Xavier watched with an amused face.

“You’re so silly! Of course I’m going to be here forever, do you ever doubt it?” More tears streamed down his face, sitting close to the gravestone while placing some white lilies, whispering his final goodbyes

“Promises don’t last forever after all..but I’ll be waiting somewhere, if the stars allow us to meet again”

Rafayel

“Why are you crying Raf?” I asked, brushing some tears away from his face. Rafayel was pouting slightly as he kept me close, waves crashing against the shore, the only sound surrounding us.

“Who said I was crying?” He spoke, voice cracking as evidence of what he felt at the moment. My hands took hold of his shoulders, leaning against his chest while Rafayel looked at the many seashells that washed up from the current waves. I then grab his chin, pulling him down to see his eyes a bit red from all the crying.

“Your eyes say otherwise, Rafayel. Tell me, what troubles you?” Rafayel then pressed up a conch shell against my ear, allowing me to hear the sounds of the ocean while falling asleep on his shoulder. Waking up minutes later to see that I was still in his arms, a vice grip around my waist supported my body up, almost as if he was afraid of losing me.

“I don’t want to ever forget you, please, stay” My gaze falls upon the necklace around my neck, taking it off and wrapping it around Rafayel’s while smiling

“I’m not going anywhere Raf, I’m sure of that. '' The water felt cold around Rafayel’s body as he submerged himself in the depths of the ocean, trying to keep the memory of them alive, holding the necklace around him softly while staring into the vast sea.

“If only I hadn’t let you go, my beloved”

Zayne

Watching the northern lights while Zayne cried was such a rare sight to see. The always stoic doctor had been reduced to nothing but shambles at my presence, I smiled, hoping it would comfort him as Zayne’s body stood beside my own despite the cold.

“Zayne..?” His eyes looked into mine, trying to get a sense of his current reality while I felt my fingertips go cold due to the freezing temperatures.

“Don’t worry about me..but you’re freezing, allow me.” Without even asking for anything, Zayne’s hands intertwined with mine. A small smile made my worries cease a bit while he kissed my now warm hands so tenderly, what did I even do to deserve this type of treatment from him?

“Are you sure? The northern lights are a sight to behold but..” I trailed off, sitting down on one of the chairs Zayne was kind enough to bring for tonight. My hands never seemed to leave his grasp, almost as if he’d never want to let go.

“If you could ask the universe for anything, what would it be?” My sudden question made Zayne’s face light up slightly, looking at me before gazing at the sky and its beautiful spectacular. He took a deep breath before answering.

“I’d ask the universe..for more time; the one thing I didn’t have to save you and now..I’ve lost you once again.” Zayne glanced now at the empty seat beside him that contained the scarf he gifted her, holding back tears while gazing at the nightly sky.

[mayajadewrites]

could've been you: aizawa x fem!reader x hawks

summary: You're the new teacher at UA with a rocky past with one of their beloved teachers, Shouta Aizawa aka Eraserhead. You'd rather never see him again but alas, such is life. You also meet Keigo, aka Hawks, who is the opposite of Aizawa. Smiley, golden retriever energy. Nothing could go wrong... right? relationships: aizawa x fem!reader, hawks x fem!reader warnings: some chapters will be NSFW, they will have a warning on them in bold. not many descriptions of reader, other than she's midsize.

ao3

TAG LIST:

@come-away-with-me87, @kxshdoll, @evilsanzu, @friendly-neighborhood-turtle, @lili-pond,

@the-unhinged-raccoon @falling4fandoms

CHAPTER SEVEN

this is a super smutty chapter and i'm not sorry

Your fingers grazed the petals of the roses that Keigo got you. You placed the vase in the middle of your dining table and they were undoubtably the center of attention.

Keigo is a rose. Stunning, adored by most people, and gives whoever receives them an immense sense of adornment.

Shouta is an Azalea. Specifically purple Azaleas. They need more shade in order to flourish, but they are absolute stunning once in full bloom. Azaleas also never receive a quarter of the love and recognition that roses do.

You pour yourself a glass of white wine after your first day as a teacher at UA. You're now in a cream colored lounge set consisting of pants that hug your curves and a tank to.

As you swirl your glass you glance at your phone. You're not sure why you're hoping to see Aizawa's name - he doesn't have your number and you refused to give it to him.

Keigo's name flashed on the screen. You slid the arrow to the right to answer the FaceTime call.

"Hi." You smile as you answer the phone. Keigo is in the air, you can tell by his dark red wings moving through the air.

"Tell me all about your first day!" He smiled into his phone. His yellow goggles moved with his cheeks.

"You're too cute. Well, it was good! Then I got a gorgeous bouquet of flowers from a man that just so happens to fly."

"He sounds like a keeper." Keigo flashed his teeth. Your heart rate increased when he said that. You didn't know if you wanted him to be your boyfriend. You didn't know if you wanted a boyfriend period.

Did you want to have this conversation now?

No.

So you don't.

"How's patrol going?" You changed the subject. Keigo's lips slightly lowered as his smile faded. Not too much, but noticable enough.

"It's going pretty well. League of Villains seem to be in hiding. Which worries me."

"Well at least it's quiet for now." You sigh thinking about Shigaraki. How much pain he was feeling, that in turn you had to feel but only temporarily.

"Please get home safe, Kei." You pressed your chin into your palm as you leaned on the counter. Keigo smiled at the screen - his honey coated eyes shining under the moonlight.

"I miss you." Keigo said softly.

"I miss you too. Come over on Friday and you can sleepover since it's not a school night." This makes Keigo smile form ear to ear.

"It's a date." He takes flight and you notice the screen moving slightly.

"Keigo please hang up if you're gonna fly while on FaceTime, I feel like I'm gonna be sick." You giggle.

"Sorry, I fly when I get excited." He stops moving, presumably leanding on the ground. "Have a good night baby bird."

"You too Kei. Be safe, please." You press the red button on your screen to hang up, leaving your phone on the counter.

One glass of wine turns into two. Two turns into three.

Three turns into knocking on Shouta's door.

Your body felt fuzzy. You could control your actions (mostly) but you felt more... free.

So why wouldn't you knock on Shouta's door at 11 PM?

You pressed your knuckles to the door and knocked semi-quietly.

"Eraserrrrrr." You sing as you plant your hands on your hips.

You hear footsteps and then suddenly the door is open.

Shouta is standing in front of you wearing a black t-shirt, sweatpants and slippers.

"Why are you knocking on my door at 11 PM? No boyfriend tonight?"

"I don't have a boyfriend silly." You look past his shoulder into his room. "I've never seen your room so I wanted to see it!"

"At 11 o'clock at night?"

"Yes. Why do you keep mentioning the time?"

Aizawa stared at you for a few moments, analyzing your face. "You're drunk?"

"I've had 1... 2... 3 glasses of wine!" You held up three fingers in front of his face.

Aizawa grabbed the hand you were holding up and pulled you into his room.

It's spotless, but very dark. He has one light in the corner that's on next to a comfy looking chair and a book. His kitchen is the same as yours, just decorated different.

"You're so clean." You press a finger to his counter.

"Did you think I would be dirty?"

You shook your head and plopped on his couch. "No. I don't know what I was expecting." You shrug your shoulders. Shouta sat next to you and placed a glass of water on his coffee table.

Your eyes wandered to his chest, his muscles filling out his shirt perfectly. His biceps peeked out of the sleeves, something you didn't know turned you on.

But the wetness in between your legs would say different.

His hair was in the low ponytail that it was this morning that made you cross your legs. You must've looked like you were squirming.

"Are you okay?" Aizawa leaned back on the couch and extended his arm behind you. You bit your bottom lip at his movements, unable to hold it in any longer.

"I want you to touch me." You blurt out. Aizawa stared at you through his lidded eyes.

After a few silent moments, he spoke.

"Show me where." He moved his body closer to you, your hips touching. You grab his large, heavy hand and bring it to your body.

"Here." You pressed his index and middle finger to your lips. "Here." You moved his hand to your chest, goosebumps growing along the skin of your tits. "Here." You slowly brought his hand to your aching, wet core. His fingers grazed your clothed heat gently, causing a moan to escape your lips.

"I haven't even truly touched you and I have you moaning already. How long have you been thinking about this?" Shouta's body covered yours as he brought the hand that you were using to show him where you wanted to be touched, to your cheek. His other arm is still laying behind you on the couch.

"I've thought about it a lot."

Why were you admitting this.

You could smell the mint of his toothpaste as he leaned in to rub his nose on yours, something you take note of. He did this before. He loves to kiss with his nose first. It's cute.

"Have you thought about it?" You tilt your head to the side and wrap your arms around his neck, letting your fingers drag through his hair.

"Only every day. Hourly, probably." He whispered and kissed your lips slowly. You take no time to deepen the kiss, opening your mouth to let his tongue in.

You're needy and he knows it. You felt his lips form into a smirk as he slid his tongue into your mouth, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your hip tightly.

You drag one of your hands down his chest to his lap where you feel his erection pressing against his sweatpants. You smile into the kiss with satisfaction, knowing you caused Shouta Aizawa to get hard.

"You're not touching that tonight." He whispers and moves your hand to his chest as he brings his mouth to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses and bites. In your drunk state, you're not thinking about the bruises he will leave behind.

"Why nottttttt." You whine as he bites down on your skin, rougher this time.

"I want you to be sober when you see it. So you remember." His words are hot against your skin as his large hand grazes your clothed core. You whimper with need, knowing your panties are soaked at this point just from kissing him.

"I need something, Shouta." You throw your head back when you feel his tongue drag along your neck to your chest, leaving bites along the front of both of your tits. He looked up at you for approval to take your shirt off, to which you nodded.

Your touches are turning desperate. You're about to come and he has barely touched you. You feverishly pulled him into you, dragging your fingernails along his back.

Aizawa pulled your shirt down, your tits bouncing out of them. He needs two hands for these, maybe three, but he's not complaining.

He left hot kisses along your right breast before he took your sensitive nub in his mouth, sucking and biting as he kneaded your other breast. Your cheeks were red from arousal as he kissed down your soft stomach to the top of your pants. He kissed your cloth core with a smirk on his face.

"You are such an ass." You squirm as he moves to his knees on the floor. Your thick thighs encase his head as he uses one hand to spread your legs apart, pulling your pants down to your ankles.

Aizawa sees your black laced panties and runs his fingers over the fabric. "These are pretty. Too bad they're about to be ruined." He pulled the side of your panties and watched them break with ease.

The sound of your panties breaking sobered you up just a little.

"Hey! These were my favorites." You whined as you looked down at him. He looked like an angel between your legs, his tired eyes gazing up at you as he planted one of his hands on your thigh.

"I'll buy you more." He mumbled as his nose grazed your entrance. You moaned quietly as you felt his tongue slide past your folds. His other hand kneaded your breast with his calloused fingertips.

Aizawa dragged his tongue down your slit, letting all of your juices fill his tastebuds. You place your hand on top of his head as he devours you.

This man is starved.

He turns his attention to your clit, wrapping his lips around the sensitive nub. Your breath hitches as his lips attach to your clit, while he inserts two of his long, thick digits into your aching pussy.

"Shouta," You moan as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you.

"You taste so good, baby." He mumbles as he laps up your juices. You watch his lidded eyes find yours as he continues to destroy your pussy with his tongue. His stubble tickled your thighs as he buried himself into you using his tongue.

You feel the knot in your stomach about to break as you buck your hips into his face. "Shouta, fuck, I'm about to come."

"Not yet." His words vibrate against your body.

"The fuck you mean not yet? I can't control-" His thrusts his fingers into you, curling them once they're burried in your pussy. "Aizawa, please." You whine.

He ignored you, his mouth sucking on your clit and his fingers pumping in and out of you. "I know you can do it, Princess. Don't come until I say so."

You felt the knot in your stomach grow tighter as you heard the squelches of his tongue against your clit. Your hand gripped his raven hair, pulling it gently as pleasure ripped through your body. You bit down on your bottom lip, hoping it was enough to stop you from coming.

"See you are a good listener." He smirked against your pussy. "Tell me what you want, baby."

"I want to come. Shouta, I want to come." You moaned as your toes curled. You were so close. "Please."

"Go." Was all Aizawa said before you had the most mind blowing, body changing, rippling orgasm. The knot in your stomach finally broke. You were seeing every color in the rainbow. This was euphoria.

Aizawa lapped up your juices as your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave. He sucked on your sensitive, overstimulated clit, sure to drink up all you had.

His hands gripped your thick, plush thighs as you he took his last slurp of your sex. His nails dug into your skin when he finally removed himself from your pussy, his face lathered in your arousal.

He wasted no time bringing his lips to yours.

"Taste yourself." He mumbled against your mouth as he slid his tongue inside of yours. "I could live between your legs and never get hungry."

Your mouth was greedy with his kisses, drunk off of not only wine but also his mouth.

Reluctantly, Aizawa pulls away from you slowly. His cheeks are a shade of red that matches his bloodshot eyes. You whimper at the loss of his touch, knowing that this was ending.

"Goodnight Princess." He kissed your forehead gently before standing up. You sat on his couch for a moment, your pussy devoured to the bone, your body bruised from love bites, and your mind was a mess.

"Night." You pull your top and pants up, and you leave.

Without another word.

[brittle-doughie]

Imagine steadily sneaking out of Dark Cacao's Palace, a flourbag load of pure unadulterated determination keeping your legs sturdy. Painstakingly heading for Beast-Yeast yourself to personally confront Mystic Flour Cookie, finally face-to-face.

First, your dreams. These crestfallen memories; these should not be yours, but yet they use your crust, copied down to how it crackles and crumbles. They walk with your legs and use your voice, and not meekly. Your little colorful buttons and creme filling. Through the eternal eyes of another wearing your broken face, a heavy shade of grief insisting a strong quake through your hands and feet, reflected in a broken mirror of indestructible forks and magic. None of this has ever happened to you, all your friends were alive and running free at the center of Gingerbrave's Kingdom.

Yet the firm echo at the crack of your mind reclaims; it indeed, had.

Second, that encounter and furiously attempted Soul Jam corruption with Shadow Milk Cookie, the dark jester of silken half-truths and rusty riddles; who's immortal darkness swallowed your common sense, that shadow with countless steep blue moon slits never dulled once under the unmoving gaze of the Sun.

But now, this sudden interest-an unpardoned heart from the literal pristine white embodiment of weightless apathy and sincerity?

These situations were too specific, familiar, and suffocatingly personal for mere coincidence.

The Beasts regurd you with an infectious stench of deep nostalgia, their eyes flash an infernal fire of thought, the kind one feels upon shaking hands with an old friend. The one that crawls like a bug, wiggles like a maggot. Growing the sprout of an itch, at an open chip of dry frosting the back of your head. A push, a pull, an annoying yet strong temptation of confrontation; of an acceptance, remembrances. Like they've known you since the very first crumb fell off the Witches' baking pan.

You spent this baked life depending on the protection and care of your beloved friends, but if that interferes with the truth you seek, you will risk falling apart into flour for finally having the chance to confront one of these gods about who you used to be.

Shadow Milk was serious when he countered you into an edge of existential dread. He was a frantic for the dramatics. Even for the most serious of cataclysmic events, he danced around the subject of your connection, hoping to unveil the mystery into stellar applause. That was the plan it seemed at leaat until Pure Vanilla threw a stake into his encore.

Cut through the answers.

With a mountain of luck and enough certainty, perhaps Mystic Flour Cookie will spare you doubts.

After all, even a being like her will neigh overlook such an opportunity; the chance of finally re-welcoming you, where she and the rest of her comrades know you rightfully belong.

She actually feels compelled to thank the merger weak Cookie's influence upon your new body, their mortal stupidity and curious self-preservation was an endless plague all within its very self, almost enough for her to forgive them for slowly erasing the dear memory of your once-divine mark upon these waning lands and lesser soils.

Almost.

(Sorry I have thoughts and lots of then, I hope I ain't bothering you.)

Nah, it’s all good. This was a pretty interesting read!

From what my brain of mush can put together, Y/N was a former Primordial Cookie before being reincarnated into a regular Cookie at some point, you were having dreams of this past life at first to the lead up to the search for White Lily Cookie.

The Shadow Milk fight would be the first time you started questioning on who you really were, but Pure Vanilla/White Lily Cookie pushed him back before you could get answers.

Your reputation seemed to be revered amongst the Beasts, as such with Mystic Flour Cookie. As stated, she could almost forgive the transgressions of having your memory altered, making you forget how you left your mark in these lands. You needed to remember who your allegiances should really go to, to remember who your real comrades were.

You were getting answers from Mystic Flour, in one way or another.

[munsonthings86]

scattered lilies

eddie doesn't have enough money for flowers before your date so he improvises by picking the prettiest flowers he sees on the way to your house.

warnings: cursing, fluff, soft!eddie, kinda shy!eddie, shy!reader, 0.6k

"shit," he curses in a whispered tone, desperately slapping at his pockets. he rushes over to his neglected, mountainous laundry pile, digging at every pocket he can find, praying to find a bill, a quarter, shit he'd be relieved to even spot a nickel. but the strewn out clothes with their pockets all turned out to reveal nothing but crumpled tissue and lint, eventually rendered useless.

eddie was becoming hopeless, running his boisterous silver ringed fingers through his curly hair that was growing unruly by the minute. pacing in his room, he nearly toppled over the picnic basket that he'd packed with food, drinks, books, and sweet mary jane for the two of you, which was where all of his money had gone, of course. glancing at the analog clock on his end table, the daunting red numbers blared 4:37.

from what he could see out of his small window, he spied ivory flowers growing out of mrs. hafers front yard of her trailer, and a cunning idea sneaks its way into his conscience. he tried to talk himself out of it as it was mrs. hafer who’d offered to put him to work at her cafe when no other employer in hawkins wanted to hire him after the incident in '86.

he figured he could ask his uncle to spot him so he could head down to the florist to legally obtain flowers instead, but he made the promise to pick you up by 5:00 and he was out of options. he couldn't not show up with flowers. what kind of a gentleman would he be?

he shrugged on his trusty leather jacket, tucking a bandana into his back pocket and scoops up the picnic basket that he hoped you'd love. he nearly knocked his uncle wayne over as he dashed out the door but soon changed his pace, creeping up to the bush of lilies. he plucked as many as he could without leaving the yard looking so obviously tampered with, and made a beeline for the main road.

on the trek to your house, eddie couldn't stop staring at the thrifted bouquet. he knew you loved flowers as you always had one threaded in the strands of your hair and wore pretty little dresses with floral patterns, but he had no clue what your favorite flowers actually were.

what if you hated lilies? what if you were more of a tulip or a dahlia kinda girl? eddie only knew those names because you talked about flowers so often.

he spent the rest of the walk picking any and every flower he saw whether it was red, pink, or white, big or small, tying the stems with a scrunchie you'd given him some time ago, when the bouquet grew too abundant.

his fist shook a little as he knocked on your door, nerves poking fiery needles across his skin, coloring him red. his cheeks and lips pulled into a toothy smile when you answered the door with a grin of your own, doing your best to hide your face with your hair. you wore a blush pink crewneck, styled with a white collar, a skirt of the same hue and sneakers that were almost identical to eddies. you looked nothing short of perfect to him.

"hi, angel," he waved to you the best he could, what with the basket and bouquet occupying his hands, and all.

"hi, eddie," you giggled, closing the door behind you, stepping closer to him. eddie's breath hitched as a gust of wind blew, allowing his senses to be overrun by your sweet, fruity perfume. "got these for ya," he gently rested the flowers into your cradling arms.

"thank you, they're gorgeous," you giggled at the wild assortment of flowers, recognizing some of them from your neighbors yard a few houses down. you decided to not question him about it. no one’s ever gotten you flowers before.

eddie took your hand in his, leading you to the park where he hoped to have a date that was as perfect as you were <3

💌 1 new message from jojo: if you made it down here i love you :) lemme know if i should make this into a full fic, cuz im thinking abt it…inbox is open!

[https-furina]

✎ you’re not her. ft. zhongli x fem!reader content. heavy angst, hanahaki disease, hurt/no comfort, mentions of blood & gagging (almost vomit), death, ‘unrequited’ love. w.c. tba.

you should have been her — part two.

oh that man, that gorgeous, benevolent man you’d fell in love with all those moons ago; with dark hair that fades into a glowing orange, resemblant of the sunset and his own geo vision. you had fell in love, yes - you thought he had too. the thought crosses your mind whenever he’s not by your side, not within your grasp like he usually is. typically, the man was serving his job at the wangsheng funeral parlour as a consultant.

you grimace when the tight feeling in your ribcage suffocates you. it’s getting stronger as time goes on, knocking the breath right out of your lungs and leaving you hacking up blood into a white handkerchief. zhongli had expressed no ends of concern about the situation when he’d find the bloodied handkerchiefs scattered around your shared home, ushering you to doctor baizhu as soon as possible.

you had begged baizhu not to utter a word of your condition to zhongli. he returned your pleads with a sorrowful look.

how could your love be so unrequited? had you been the only one true to your word this whole time? the mere thought stings at your eyes, tears threatening to spill as you shakily wash the dishes. zhongli isn’t home, not for a few more hours. he said he had business to attend to - that meant it wasn’t work related. was he cheating? you shake the sour thought away from your head, scowling.

you wonder if the oh-so-wise man could ever read the wrinkles appearing on your skin, aging you with every passing concern that you don’t voice aloud, with every day that goes by where you’re suffocating from the inside out. he never mentions it, perhaps he simply does not care. you feel the knot in your throat, sickening as you gag and splutter into the soapy water of the sink. you keep gagging, the knot doesn’t budge and you’re filled with an overwhelming sense of nausea.

your body grows tired. you slip down to your knees, banging elbows and other limp limbs against kitchen cabinets as you go down. finally, with one last cough, the knot exits your mouth. it falls to the wood floorboards beneath you, slimy and covered in blood but undoubtedly recognised as a glaze lily. its petals are shut, you understand that there is no music, no lullaby to be heard to lull the glaze lily to bloom. it’s an ancient flower, one you always used to admire before this curse laid upon you.

the front door to your house opens, keys jingling in a specific man’s gloved hands as he enters. you hurry to throw the glaze lily out of the kitchen window, submerging your hands in the sink once more as the metallic taste of blood and lingering aftermath of a floral tang swarms your mouth. you hold your breath, hoping you didn’t have the appearance of someone who had just coughed up a flower so violently.

a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, suddenly you’re hit with the faint smell of aged wine and familiar scent of freshly dug earth. you smile at the thought, leaning back into his chest despite the pain tearing at your lungs and the burning sensation left behind in your throat.

“you’ve been coughing again—” zhongli’s voice reverberates close to your ear, hot breath fanning over your skin and your eyes raise from the dirty water to your reflection in the kitchen window, where zhongli’s warm amber eyes are staring at you so deeply.

“it’s okay, my love, i promise,” you lie through your teeth, hoping the man sincerely couldn’t read through you the way he used to, “this time it was a smaller amount than the last…”

you try to sound cheerful in your approach to the topic, careful to maintain that personality he’d apparently fell in love with one day in liyue harbour. zhongli makes a noise - is he doubting you? you watch as a gloved hand raises, nearing your face before his thumb wipes gently at a trickle of blood leading from the corner of your lips.

“i’ll speak to doctor baizhu in the morning,” zhongli states firmly, you almost bite back the words that taste bitter about him ‘caring’ for you, “perhaps you need a higher dose of your medication.”

the medication in question surely had been a ruse to fool the man, though you did not expect it to have worked. changsheng had uttered that you could not leave the bubu pharmacy without some form of medication, it’d look absurd in the eyes of the wangsheng funeral parlour consultant. in agreement, baizhu had qiqi mix violetgrass powder with sugar - the instructions were simple, mix it into the hot tea you’d drink with zhongli every evening.

it was sweet, not at all bitter and the scent of violetgrass made it bearable. apparently the inclusion of herbal properties was enough to fool your dearest partner or so you thought.

—

it’s hard to understand the fine line between a lie and a truth when the past few months, you’d been dating a man for someone whomst he was not. it was a struggle to understand the situation but it kept you up for endless nights, counting stars and tending to the numerous flora you’d planted in the garden underneath the moonlight - courtesy of your friend the traveler for appearing with so many countless seeds of blooms from across teyvat.

yet as you sit on the grass, staring at the pile of dead - and dying - glaze lilies you had acquired, the stars twinkling endlessly above you, you understood why he’d done it. he was judicious, hoping to protect you from his past yet keep you as his future. the thought made that pain in your chest tighten. you let out a futile whimper into the quiet night.

as you ponder zhongli’s status as liyue’s archon - the geo archon of all people, you begin to question your previous doubts. your breaths become struggled, your chest heaving as you lay on your back for some relief. trembling fingertips brush amongst blades of grass, hoping for a distraction as tears spill down your cheeks.

liyue is a beautiful country with vast mountains and yellowed plains that seem to stretch endlessly. its civilisation had become fruitful at the expense of liyue harbor, bustling with trade and the thing your partner had appeared to love the most; contracts. he has every right to be proud of the nation liyue had built to this day, despite claiming that he’d ultimately retired - “the people can do without me, they’ve proved that much.”

blood trickles from your mouth but it’s not gentle, it’s a rush, like a waterfall as it spills down the sides of your face and pools on the grass below you. it’s littered in an array of blue and white petals, matching that of glaze lilies - a flower you’d grown to hate. you struggle to get oxygen into your lungs with the rising level of blood that doesn’t dissipate from your parted lips, suffocating you as you try to no ends to breathe through your nose.

that is, if there was room in your lungs for such oxygen. twists and turns of branches and roots that climb to the walls of your organs, painting them with glaze lilies and filling them with fallen petals every time a flower wilts from the unreasonable conditions inside your body.

you’re proud of liyue; the magnificent, beautiful nation of geo that you got to experience in all of its glory. zhongli often times referred to liyue with feminine pronouns and as the light dies from your eyes and your chest ceases to rise, you can only think one thing with your last dying breath.

you’re not her.

© https-furina 2023.

[freedomfireflies]

The Angel and the Fae

Summary: The one where Harry is an angel that falls in love with a garden fairy.

And even the heavens can't keep you apart.

Word Count: 3.2k

Harry thinks you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen.

He decides this the moment he sees you. Resolves instantaneously upon a fleeting glance that you – with your long hair that flows beneath the crown of white lilies atop your head – will be the reason he falls from heaven.

He watches you from the edge of Aspen Hollow. Never once stepping foot past the sacred edge that surrounds the ethereal garden where you preside. Not even a feather from his wings is permitted to dance into such holy ground.

A fawn has crawled its way into your lap. Entrusting you with its care and safety as its eyes fall shut and it blissfully settles into your delicate and soothing embrace. 

You’re speaking to it. Softly. Comfortingly. Trailing your finger from its nose down to its spine.

“There, little one,” you’re cooing. Hushed yet reverent. “Sleep now.”

Harry considers himself lucky to be able to hear the way your heart beats beneath your chest. Steady. Rhythmic. Calm. You’re happy. Content and filled with tranquility.

He detects the exact moment you sense him. Catches the hitch in your breath and the jump of your pulse.

He readies himself to explain – to assuage you. He expects your fear, your resentment. Expects you to cast him out. Forbid him from returning.

Instead, you seem…curious. Hesitant but inquisitive, and when your head turns, his lungs just about cave in.

And in that moment, when your eyes find his, his purpose changes. His entire reason for existence is plucked from one instrument and played on another. A tune so beautiful, so melodious…it makes his heart sing. 

You’re watching him much like he was watching you. But you don’t move from your spot on the grass, instead keeping the fawn safely tucked away in your lap.

You blink, and Harry swears he can feel the flutter of it against his cheek. 

“Hello,” you call quietly, your gentle voice carrying across the few hundred yards from where you reside.

You must know he’ll be able to hear you, and Harry straightens up dutifully, his wings following suit. Expanding some as if to display a sense of chivalry. 

“Hello,” he calls back, equally as soft.

You seem to study him for a moment, and Harry swears this is the longest he’s ever gone without breathing. 

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” you tell him, and he nods once.

“I know,” he admits. “I suppose I just…found it hard to tear myself away.”

You glance down at the sleeping doe on your lap, and he feels his insides twist now that your eyes aren’t on him.

“I apologize if I’ve disturbed you,” he adds, hoping to encourage your attention back.

You hum faintly and brush your palm down the baby deer’s back. “You have not.”

This makes Harry’s mouth curl up into a giddy smile. “Then would you mind if I stay? Only for a moment? I feel quite at peace here.”

You regard him carefully. Inquiringly. “I would imagine an angel is quite often at peace.”

He considers this. “Peace is a privilege,” he finally replies gently. “And it is one that is often lost on me.”

This seems to surprise you, your lips parting delicately as Harry’s pulse begins to thump in his ears. “Then you may stay as long as you’d like.”

His grin doubles in size as he nods his appreciation. “Thank you.”

However, when he remains planted near the tall oak tree that sits beside the edge of the garden, you glance back over.

“Angel,” you call, and Harry’s entire chest caves in. “You’ll disturb me more if you hover like that.” 

He hesitates, looking over the soft but hallowed grass only inches away. “Angels aren’t allowed inside The Garden.”

“Not unless invited,” you correct, and he straightens up. “And I am inviting you in.”

Still, Harry can’t make his feet move, despite the way his wings are desperate to carry him to you. Centuries worth of warnings and guidelines are attempting to remind him of his place, of his duty and his loyalty to the heavens. But that does nothing to dampen his urge to go forth and take.

“Angel,” you repeat with a glimmer in your eye. “Come.”

And that’s all it takes for his foot to instantly cross over into sacred ground.

The moment his wings pass through the invisible barrier, a forceful wind ripples across the garden. Echoing between the trees and the grass as the billowing of air sweeps from flower to flower. All the way to the other side.

You feel your eyes widen as you watch him approach. He’s hesitant but intrigued. And perhaps you know better than to invite him in, but your heart aches to provide the handsome figure a moment of serenity.

He studies every petal and vine as he walks through, wonderstruck by the enchanted orchard. He smiles brightly when a blue jay swoops down beside him, the small bird fluttering around his head a time or two before disappearing back into the branches. 

And the angel laughs. A sound that resembles the moment a wave breaks against the shore. Loud and lively before it settles and softens.

“This is beautiful,” he says, and you nod.

“It represents serenity. A moment of calm before the next stage of life.”

You both look to the small creature in your lap, and the angel’s expression changes. “Are you saying hello…or goodbye?”

You smile gently, trailing your fingers down the sleeping fawn’s spine. “We are saying hello.”

Those clear, green eyes seem to sparkle at you as he grins. “Hello,” he repeats.

You nod again. “She’ll be sent down soon. The moment the sunlight disappears behind the mountains.”

The angel is intrigued, crouching down a few feet away as he studies the way you trail your palm over the soft coat. “Is it hard to let them go?”

“No,” you answer easily, smiling some. “They are meant to live. To flourish. To exist outside of this realm and give back to the earth what it has given to them.”

The garden falls quiet. You feel him watching you while you watch the creature in your lap. He seems to be wrestling against another question and you chuckle to yourself as the fawn awakes.

“Off you go,” you whisper quietly, helping the wobbling baby doe from your lap before it’s bounding toward the grass and disappearing out of sight.

Left alone with the quiet angel, you both stand and turn to each other. Now provided with a better glimpse of his large frame and sizable wings.

He straightens up under your inquisitive stare, feathers fluttering as the wind passes between you. “I appreciate you allowing me in,” he says tentatively. “I don’t mean to break your rules.”

“They are not my rules,” you correct, waving his apology away. “I believe that anyone who needs a moment of stillness should be given one.”

This seems to charm him. “And I believe you are the first and only fairy to think so.”

You grin. “Perhaps. But I’ve never understood the divide between angels and fairies. Both are providers of comfort and refuge. It seems silly to be at odds with each other.”

He hums, and you wonder if you’ve offended him. “I agree,” he says, and you feel your muscles unwind. “But the heavens have a different belief.”

“They believe that just because fairies were created by a different hand, we are not to be trusted," you snort beneath a quiet breath. "That we are all tricksters and supernatural entities unworthy of eternal salvation.”

“Are you?” His tone is playful, and you feel your smile return tenfold.

“I am a garden fairy,” you reply. “I tend to the trees and the animals. I don’t have time for tricks.”

His look of amusement seems to mirror your own.

“And you?” you ask next, gesturing toward him. “An angel without peace is like a heart without rhythm. Why do you come here when you know better?”

He takes a moment to consider his answer. “Truthfully, I don’t know,” he finally responds. “There was a pulling. On my soul. My wings. They led me here and I wasn’t quite sure why.”

“Well, have you found the peace you were looking for?”

His eyes meet yours. “I have.”

Another unspoken moment dances between you as your attention drifts toward the very plumage he displays so proudly. 

You’ve seen angel wings before but never this close. Never when they were near enough to touch. Truth be told, you weren’t sure you’d ever get the chance, and you imagine the quiet angel can hear your heart racing.

But he’s smiling at the way you stare. Seemingly amused by your fascination and wide eyes as you watch the cream-colored feathers flutter against the wind.

“They’re…beautiful,” you admit softly, attention following the curves and dips of each row expanding from his back. “Are they heavy?”

“Not normally, no,” he tells you. “Only in times of great sorrow.”

Confused, you raise a curious brow.

His grin grows. “Each feather symbolizes that of someone I’ve watched over. And when they move on, a piece of their soul stays with me. It lives and it breathes, and it is.”

He steps closer and you feel your breath catch, awestruck by the way the large pennons begin to curl around his frame.

“When their soul is happy, the wings feel weightless,” he continues, a far-off look in his expression. “And when they’re sad, when they cry…my wings cry for them.”

There’s a pleasant sort of ache in your chest. “You’re a guardian angel.”

“I am.” His arm outstretches for you, palm to the sky as he silently requests your hand. “Here.”

Hesitantly but with great keenness, you oblige his instruction, sliding your fingers along his skin.

The moment the contact is made, you both seem to jolt. Magnetized by the feel of his flesh against your own. A stark contrast that’s somehow hauntingly familiar. Soothing in a sense. Destined.

He brings you closer, guiding the tips of your fingers to his wings. Ghosting them across the soft feathers as you suck in a quiet breath and feel the entire weight of the world on his back.

He holds you for only a moment before allowing you to travel the expanse of his wingspan on your own. Delicate strokes along the rows of quills that seem to bask in your touch.

“How do they feel?” he asks quietly, almost as if not to startle you.

Your lips roll into your mouth as you search for the right words. Or any word that could even begin to come close to describing such an ethereal sensation.

“Magical,” you finally say, and he smiles.

“Certainly no more magical than a fairy.”

Smirking to yourself, you lower toward the grass, and extend your hand. Your fingers dance above the blades momentarily before you make a quick snap of your wrist.

Instantly, a flower springs forth from the dirt. Sprouting up out of the soil in full bloom as the angel’s eyes widen.

You pluck it from its roots and straighten back up before offering him the small, dainty lily stem. He steps forward, allowing you to guide the flower behind his ear and tuck it between soft, chestnut curls.

“How do I look?” he asks.

You laugh. “Magical.”

He holds your giddy stare for a second longer before he murmurs, “You’re quite beautiful.”

A bit stunned, you smile, and wave the compliment away. “You must be standing too close.”

With a cheeky hum, the angel suddenly steps back, his wings now fluttering about the air until his feet lift from the ground.

Then, his feathers carry him a few hundred yards away before he lowers back down, studies you, and calls, “Nope. Still beautiful.”

Despite yourself, you laugh again. “You’re quite forward for an angel.”

“And you’re quite timid for a fae,” he retorts, returning to you as a rustle of wind sweeps through your hair. “I was expecting a bit more fearlessness.”

“I’m only fearless when I choose to be,” you tell him. “But I just met you. Why should I share all my secrets when I don’t even know your name?”

The handsome angel considers this before nodding and stepping up to you. “Harry,” he says quietly, as if the answer is reserved only for you. “They call me Harry.”

A stunning name for a stunning man, and you feel your pulse jump while it makes a home in your mind. “Harry,” you repeat, making him grin. “That’s quite pretty.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “And what do they call you?”

You lift one shoulder in a gentle shrug. “I suppose I don’t really have a name. Or at least I don’t have anybody to use it if I do.”

His eyes soften while he glances over the crown of delicate white flowers woven between the locks of your hair. “Then I will call you my Lily,” he decides, and there’s a new sort of blossoming in your chest. “If I may.”

You struggle against such merriment. “You may.”

“Good.” He seems equally as enchanted, and for the first time in almost a hundred years, you feel mesmerized by an angel. Then, his chin motions just behind you. “The sun is beginning to set.”

Turning, you find that it is, and your heart soars as you eagerly reach over and take his hand to drag him toward the middle of the garden.

It’s an action made without much forethought, the need to feel his skin against yours almost like instinct now.

For a moment, you both hesitate. Unsure of the presumptuous act until Harry squeezes your palm, and silently encourages you to lead him where you’d like to go.

You take him toward the middle of the meadow, just beside the calm stream of water.

There, you find the baby fawn. Standing curiously on the other side, waiting to bid you goodbye.

You and the angel come to a stop on the edge of the grass just as the sun is filtering between the trees. Casting a golden hue across the orchard and setting the secluded hollow aglow. 

And just as the stars are beginning to take their place in the sky, the sweet doe meets your eye, and lifts its head.

You smile. “Goodbye, little one.”

Its left ear flicks before it turns on its heel, and leaps over the hill. Disappearing from sight as it’s carried into another realm.

Leaving The Garden behind.

Harry seems to hold his breath from beside you as he looks down. “And will it be okay?”

You lace your fingers with his and nod. “It will.”

Silence settles between the trees, between your hearts. It’s comfortable and it’s still and the faint sound of rustling leaves calms your racing pulse.

You look over and allow your attention to trail across his face. Taking note of each line, each edge, each crinkle. The shape of his lips, the slope of his nose, the curve of his jaw. The dimples in his cheeks and the dark hairs of his eyebrows.

He’s quite handsome. Alluring, in a sense, yet oddly safe. You imagine this was by design. To help those he protects, and comforts feel more at ease in his presence. 

And while you’re looking at him, you notice he’s looking at you, too. Just as intently, with nothing but admiration. He studies the faint, golden sparkles that litter your skin. The way they glimmer beneath each drop of moonlight, a common feature amongst fairies.

You imagine this isn’t the first time he’s seen a fae’s enchanted flesh. But he indulges in the sight of you, nonetheless. Indulges in your magic.

Then, he steps forward, and you feel the air shift.

“May I confess something?” he whispers, and you sense his slight hesitation.

“Of course.”

With a deep inhale, he tentatively reaches out his hand and ghosts the tips of his fingers along your cheek. “…I feel an overwhelming urge to kiss you.”

Your lashes flutter while the insides of your stomach twist and turn into impervious knots. “Oh?”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Mhm. And I know that breaks…every rule in existence.”

“And then some,” you breathe, struggling against the desire to push yourself into his palm. 

You wonder if this is part of the ruse. If perhaps you feel so enamored by him because that’s what a guardian angel does. It encourages you to feel more susceptible. Maybe this pull to him is nothing more than magic.

Still, it pulls you, nonetheless. 

“I want to kiss you, Lily,” he murmurs, moving closer until the front of his chest just brushes against your own. “And I’m afraid I don’t quite know what to do now.”

And you know the admonitions. Know the rules, the history between angels and fairies. You know that his very presence in this garden is inviting trouble into paradise, and yet…you have no yearning to tell him to go. 

Because you don’t want him to go. You don’t want him to take his hand from your cheek. You don’t want him to leave this sacred orchard at all, and even though every fiber of your being, every nerve-ending, and every cell in your body is desperately attempting to warn you…you push into his touch, anyway.

“I think…you should kiss me,” you finally say, grasping onto his wrist.

This answer surprises you both. Neither one of you understand it or have the knowledge to comprehend the repercussions. 

All you know is right here, right now. His hand on your face, his lips much too close, and his aura. His effortless ability to make you feel like you’ve just come home.

His thumb follows the outline of your cheekbone. “Are you sure?”

You squeeze his arm a bit tighter and nod once. “I don’t see why not. What’s the worst that could happen?”

He grins – a wide, toothy grin – and you decide that it might be the most beautiful thing in this whole garden. “What a fearless way of looking at it.”

With that, he kisses you. Presses his lips to yours and takes each strained breath from your lungs.

It’s hesitant and it’s unsure and it’s perfect. A moment in time meant just for the two of you, here beneath the large willow tree and the pale light of the moon.

Eventually, he pulls back, but he keeps himself close. His mouth moving to your cheek while your eyes fall shut.

And you drink him in. His scent, his skin. Memorizing each inch of the angel in your arms as you ask yourself what you did to deserve such wonder.

“I’m afraid I have to go,” he says. But it’s heavy, the way he speaks. “If I don’t return soon, they’ll come looking.”

You nod your understanding and swallow the lump in your throat. “Go,” you whisper. “You have souls to protect.”

This makes him chuckle before a wounded look of remorse settles on his expression, the palm of his hand slipping around the back of your neck.

He dips down to rest his forehead against yours, almost as though looking for balance. Stability amidst a sea of uncertainty, and you’re more than happy to offer it to him.

“My Lily,” he exhales, and the sound of your name on his tongue sends a shiver down your spine. “I am so glad my wings brought me to you.”

Smiling, you nuzzle the tip of your nose against his.

“May they bring you back again.”

The next parts will be all the angst and turmoil and fluff and smut, I swear, I just had to do the background first HAHAHA WE ARE THROWING ALL THE TROPES INTO ONE POT AND COOKIN' BABY!

Amazing credit for the beautiful dividers to @firefly-graphics 💞

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince

[runesandramblings]

I Just Want You

Word Count: 1400

Pairings: Fili x reader

Warnings: None

Description: Royal wedding plans begin to take their toll, but there's only one thing you require to make the day perfect.

Requested by anon so I don't have a way to tag you I'm sorry! But I hope you enjoy. 😇

“What do you think, nâtha? The lilies or the orchids?” 

You buried your face in your hands. The pounding against your temples, something that had become a familiar sensation as of late, began to worsen as you tried to piece together any coherent sentence. There were only three words that came to mind, the same three words you’d uttered countless times over the past several weeks. 

“I don’t know.” 

The joy of yours and Fili’s engagement had subsided the moment you’d broken the news to your families. With FIli being the crown prince and heir, there was no way Dis and your mother would let it be a simple affair. Invitations had already been sent out to every corner of Middle Earth, and you’d been occupied from sunup to sundown every day with planning. The dress, the flowers, the food… 

You were from a simple merchant family. The pomp and ceremony of royalty made no sense to you. Where you’d grown up, weddings were a simple affair. Most couples in your small village chose to elope rather than go through the bother of an elaborate ceremony. You’d have been more than happy to do the same. However, your mother and future mother in law had both been quick to dismiss the idea. 

“It’s no matter, dear. We have time to decide.” Your mother pulled several small scraps of fabric, ranging from the purest snow white to the creamier shades of ivory. She laid them out against the table and gestured to each. “Which color do you think for the dress? We’ve got to begin sewing soon if it will be ready in time.” 

Before you had the chance to respond, Dis laid out several different styles of gold and silver fabric beside the scraps your mother had laid down. 

“And what of the trim? You’ve got to decide if you prefer gold accents or silver. But I do suppose that would have an effect on the choice of flowers…” She trailed off, lost in her own world of thought. 

You could feel your pulse radiating against your temples as the migraine that had been forming worsened. This was the issue exactly. It wasn’t just selecting a dress. It was selecting a type of fabric, a trim, lace… And that had to coordinate with the flowers or else…

Or else what, exactly? Would the world cease to exist if the flowers and trim didn’t go together? Would Mahal himself descend from the sky if the food and the wine didn’t pair perfectly? 

You looked from where you sat at the head of the long, carved wood table to the opposite end. Fili sat on his own, silently working through a stack of parchments Thorin had given him. He hadn’t been overly involved in the plans, as your mothers had taken over almost immediately. But you’d expressed to him how stressful the process had been, and he’d decided to come sit with you for moral support. He met your gaze and gave you a gentle smile. It sent butterflies through your stomach, as it always did. He was all you needed, truly. You could get married in the same, tattered old dress he’d met you in carrying a bouquet of wildflowers for all you cared. As long as he was there, it was all you required.

“(Y/N)?” 

Your mother’s voice brought you back to the less desirable reality. She and Dis were both staring at you expectantly, the colored swatches of cloth still spread out across the table in front of you. 

“Silver or gold-”

“First, she has to decide on a shade of white. Which shade do you prefer, (Y/N)?” 

“Well it might help to decide on the accent first, then she can pick a white that goes with that.” 

As Dis and your mother began speaking over each other you buried your face in your hands once again. The pounding against your temples became rhythmic, a steady thump that seemed to grow louder and louder as their voices overlapped. You felt as though you might go mad if the pounding and the questions didn't stop soon.

“(Y/N)-” Dis started. 

“I don’t know!” You cried again, finally raising your head to look at the two of them. “I don’t know, okay? And I don’t care. Just pick a color. Whatever you both want.” 

You flung yourself back in the chair, crossing your arms over your chest. It was unlike you to have such an outburst, but you were exhausted. There were too many questions, too many decisions. You’d be more than happy for them to make the choices and just tell you when and where to show up on the day of. 

“And what do you want, amrâlimê?” 

The three of you turned your attention to the end of the table as Fili piped up. He’d laid his parchments to the side. His eyes were not on either of your mothers, but on you. You could see the genuine concern etched in the lines that furrowed between his brows. He knew the planning had begun to take a toll, and now he was able to see the full amount of stress that you were under. 

You felt tears begin to sting the corners of your eyes. 

“I just want you.” You said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Your mothers exchanged shameful glances across the table, finally seeming to realize just how much they’d piled on you at once. FIli’s expression softened as he continued to look at you, his eyes never breaking away to look at anyone else in the room.

“Could you leave us for a moment?” He asked. 

Dis and your mother stood silently, collecting the fabric and other wedding items they’d strewn across the table. You felt Dis place a hand apologetically on your shoulder as she followed your mother from the room. 

Once they’d gone Fili’s smile widened. He extended his hand to you, gesturing for you to come join him at the end of the table. You stood and quickly walked around to where he sat. Once you were within his arm’s reach he grabbed you, pulling you down by your waist and plopping you into his lap. As soon as your legs touched his he stretched his face up to your neck, peppering light kisses up and down your collarbones. You giggled as his mustache braids tickled the exposed skin of your neck, his lips working their way up to plant kisses along your cheeks. He finally found your mouth and pressed his delicately against yours, making it the gentlest and sweetest kiss of them all. 

You felt a contented sigh escape your lips as he pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. You rested your chin on top of his head as your fingers began to slowly brush through his hair, careful as always not to disturb his perfectly placed braids. The feeling of his arms wrapped snugly around your waist had already alleviated the nervous pit in your stomach, and you wondered how it could have only been moments ago that you were stressed to the point of breaking down in tears. He was your safe place, your calm within the storm. 

“We don’t have to make it into a spectacle, you know.” He murmured into the collar of your dress. “It can just be the two of us, whenever and wherever you want.” 

“We can’t.” You said, wistfully. If only it were that simple. 

“And who says so?” 

“You’re the prince-”

“To hell with that.” He said, pulling back just enough to look up at you. “Thorin’s already given his blessing for us to skip the whole affair.” 

“But our mothers-”

“To hell with them too.” His expression quickly changed from confidence to one of fear as he looked over his shoulder. “Don’t tell them I said that.” 

You giggled again, pulling him closer to you as he nuzzled his face into your neck once more. 

“Amrâlimê, I will go get Balin right now and have him perform the ceremony in this very room.” He continued. “I don’t need the flowers or the food or the party. I just want you, too.” 

You pulled back again, just enough to look down into his eyes. He was smiling up at you, his eyes sparkling with the same joy as they had the first day you met. He was all you needed, now and forever. 

“I think that sounds absolutely perfect.” You said, brushing back a few loosened strands of his golden hair. “On one condition.”

He looked at you expectantly as you continued. 

“You have to tell our mothers.”

nâtha - daughter

amrâlimê - my love

[hisui-dreamer]

hiii rinna!!! congratulations on 2k!!!!!! ˃ᴗ˂ 🫶🫶🫶🎉🎉🎉🎉agsgsh I hope I'm not too late ^^"

can I request silver with white rose? :D

foolish decisions in blossoming love

Pairing: Silver x gn!reader

Synopsis: in getting one bouquet for a friend, you ended up getting another bouquet for a stranger

Tags: meet cute, fluff, florist au, reader is just really flustered

Word count: 1.1k+

Notes: you're not late at all kei, im the one who's late ⊙⁠﹏⁠⊙ i hope silver fluff makes up for it!!

Masterlist

flower of choice: white roses

white roses represent pure love, indicating that you are willing to sacrifice your all for your love

The bell tinkled gently as you pushed open the door to the quaint flower shop. Stepping inside, you were immediately enveloped in a symphony of fragrances, the sweet aroma of fresh blooms mingling with the earthy scent of potted plants. The air was alive with vitality, as if each petal and leaf whispered secrets of beauty and renewal.

Your gaze swept over the charming interior, your eyes drinking in the riot of colours and shapes that adorned every corner of the shop. A kaleidoscope of blossoms greeted you, their vibrant hues dancing in the soft, golden light that filtered through the windows. It was a scene straight out of a painting, a sanctuary of serenity amidst the bustling city streets.

You caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of your eye, and your attention was drawn to the silver-haired man, positioned behind the counter. His fingers expertly arranged a bouquet with effortless skill, moving with a fluidity that hinted at years of practice. The gentle sunlight bathed his face, creating a soft halo around his silhouette.

Your heart skipped a beat as you beheld him, and your breath momentarily caught in your throat. There was an ethereal quality to his presence, reminiscent of a fairy straight out of a storybook.

"Excuse me," you finally managed to murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you stood before him, spellbound by his presence.

He looked up, his purple-blue eyes meeting yours with a softness that sent shivers down your spine. "Hello there," he replied, a smile gracing his lips. "How may I help you?"

Your mind cleared momentarily, focusing on the reason you came here. "I’m looking to buy a bouquet," you said, your voice steadier now. “My friend hasn't been feeling well lately. I thought some flowers might brighten their day.”

He nodded sympathetically, understanding the sentiment.

“I see… Is there a particular type they like?”

"Not particularly. I just want something to lift their spirits," you answered earnestly.

With a gentle nod, he considered your words, his fingers tracing over the petals of various blooms thoughtfully. “Perhaps a bouquet of lilies," he suggested, his eyes alight with inspiration. "Lilies are often associated with purity and success, making them a perfect choice to wish for a successful recovery."

You hummed at his words, a sense of wonder dawning on your face. "I didn’t know flowers carried messages…" you mumbled curiously.

He smiled warmly, appreciating your interest. "Yes, the language of flowers has been used for centuries to convey sentiments and emotions. Each flower has its own unique symbolism, allowing us to express our feelings in a beautiful and meaningful way," he explained, his passion for flowers shining through in his words.

As you watched him speak, you found yourself drawn to the grace with which he moved, the way his fingers delicately caressed each petal as if coaxing out its hidden secrets. There was something about the warmth in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice, that stirred your soul. You found yourself hanging onto his every word, entranced by the depth of his passion.

It was irrational of you to be so affected by a stranger. You wanted to stay in his presence, to bask in the light of his warmth and kindness for as long as you possibly could. In that fleeting moment, you found yourself inexplicably attached to him, drawn to him in a way that defied all logic and reason.

In an effort to hear him talk more, to hear his calming voice longer, you pointed to a delicate white rose, meekly asking, "What does this one mean?

His eyes crinkled as he smiled gently. "White roses symbolize pure love."

Your heart skipped a beat once again, the meaning of the flower resonating deeply within you. "Pure love," you murmured, lost in thought for a moment. 

“I’ll be right back,” Silver said, breaking you out of your thoughts as he disappeared into the back of the shop with some lilies, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your infatuation towards the gentle florist. You was barely gone for five minutes, but you already missed him, wanting to spend more time with him, to learn more about the stories that lay hidden behind his kind eyes and warm demeanour.

But how could you make it more natural? How could you bridge the gap between customer and florist? The answer eluded you, but you knew that you couldn't let this opportunity slip away.

"Here we are," Silver said, a sense of satisfaction in his voice as he walked back to your side. "I hope it brings comfort and cheer to your friend."

Your eyes shimmered with gratitude as you beheld the finished arrangement. "It’s beautiful…," you breathed, your voice filled with awe. "Thank you. I'm sure they’ll love it."

Silver’s smile brightened at your words, and you felt a surge of courage welling up inside you. With a timid yet determined voice, you finally voiced the words that had been lingering on your tongue. "If it’s alright, I'd like to request another too."

His brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features. "Another bouquet?"

You nodded, bashfulness colouring your cheeks. "Yes, one with white roses, please."

A flash of disappointment crossed his face before he quickly put on a polite smile. “Of course, please wait a moment,” before disappearing in the back again.

A pang of sadness tugged at his heart as he meticulously prepared the delicate white roses. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment knowing that you already had someone in your life whom you wanted to dedicate pure love to. Despite his efforts to hide it, a faint shadow crossed his features as he arranged the flowers with practised care, his thoughts momentarily clouded by a hint of longing.

But as he showed you the completed bouquet, his feelings of melancholy were quickly replaced by a surge of warmth, your genuine appreciation for his assistance washing away any lingering sadness.

You swiftly settled the payment for both bouquets, your heart pounding with anticipation as you gathered your courage. With a determined breath, you reached out and delicately handed Silver the bouquet of white roses. His eyes met yours, a confused expression flickering across his features as he awaited your next move.

"Silver," you began, your voice trembling slightly yet resolute, "these are for you." As the words slipped from your lips, a rush of uncertainty engulfed you, but you pushed through, driven by the intensity of your emotions. "They represent... what I feel for you."

Embarrassment flooded your senses as the rational side of you chastised the idiocy of giving flowers to a florist. Could you be any more embarrassing?

Hastily, you uttered, "Thank you for your help! I hope I’ll see you more often!" Leaving behind a note bearing your number, you made a swift exit with the lilies, the jingle of the bell marking your departure.

But had you lingered for just a moment longer, you would have witnessed a rosy blush blossoming across the florist's cheeks and spreading down his neck, a loving smile spreading across his face.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[thebellearchives]

I wish you would write a fic where Inumaki watches non sorcerer!reader from a distance since the Shibuya incident. He’s always there, making sure they’re safe and healing, and reader swears they see his face in passing crowds, passing it off as a coincidence. Until a chance encounter…

𝐂𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍

~ inumaki toge ; jujutsu kaisen

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : you long for the comfort of the arms of your saviour, until you realize that he might need comfort in your arms instead

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, non-sorcerer reader, mutual pining, comfort, mentions of blood, suggested trauma, a little emotional ?, probably inconsistent with the canon shibuya incident-itadori’s extermination transition

‧₊˚ a / n : i started writing and it just kept getting longer and longer and i couldn’t stOP, this one qualifies as hurt-comfort i think? so ill tag it as both fluff and angst oop, hope you like it anon 🫶🏻

Ever since Shibuya nothing has been the same. Debris, cough, grey days, lavender eyes. Fear, panic, emptiness, white hair flowing in the wind. Silence, visions, dark purple fabric. You tell yourself you must be going insane, seeing him around the corners of dark alleys, standing at at the other side of the road outside the store, in the reflections of broken glass on the floor. But you wake up from your bed every night gasping for air, wishing he’d come to your rescue once again, thinking he’d come through your door. Longing to feel in the air that sweet scent of lilies that came from his clothes when he picked you up and took you to safety. To hear once again the hypnotic sound of his voice that saved your life that fateful day.

And as you make your way back to your apartment you hold your things close to your chest. There were many things about the incident that didn’t make sense, the whole situation was just ininteligible to you. The rumbling of the floor and the loud noises, the way things would just hit on the walls or the asphalt around you and not being able to tell where they were coming from. The huge, insect-like monster that stood on its hind legs as it took impulse to lunge forwards and take your life. Until you heard his voice and the monster exploded, fading into thin air just as quickly as it had appeared in front of you. But if none of that had happened, then how did his hands on your shoulders feel so real and warm? The worry in his lovely lilac eyes as he checked that you were in perfect conditions, or the way you could almost swear you could smell the copperish scent of the blood on his lips?

As you walked, you held in your hand the small bottle of cough syrup that he had accidentally left behind that night, the only proof you had that he existed. Your brows furrowed as you stared at the bottle, your steps coming to an end. If you could only see him once more and thank him for saving you, just hold onto him and feel like everything would be okay again…

A sudden movement caught your attention from your peripheral vision. Startled, your eyes drove to a narrow alley to your left, fear almost freezing you in place. But you caught it: a little glimpse of a familiar figure. So the fear turned into anxiety, maybe you were going crazy, or maybe not, but there was only one way to figure it out. Your feet moved almost automatically, sprinting towards the alley.

“Wait!” you voiced, wishing with all your might you were talking to him and not to a panic induced vision.

The figure continued to quickly try and escape by turning into different directions to lose you but it didn’t fade away, so your heartbeat quickened. It was him, it had to be.

“Wait, please! I just wanna talk!” you tried to pick up the pace, but your rushing only made you trip. You hitched a breath and tried not lose balance, looking down by pure instinct, but when you glanced back up he was nowhere to be seen.

Frowning, you started running now. You couldn’t let him go, not when he was so close to you, not when your chance to feel that relief again was escaping like water through your fingers. You turned to your left, right, left… until you were no longer sure where you were at all. The alleys seemed to had turned into a maze at some point with nothing more than trash cans and plastic bags everywhere.

A knot formed in your throat and you could feel tears of frustration gathering at the corners of your eyes. Why did he leave? Didn’t he hear you? Had you really imagined him after all?

A pile of trash fell down somewhere behind you, making you turn around instantly. Your heartbeat quickened in a glint of hope.

“Hello? Are you there?” taking a hesitant step forwards, your eyes tried to scrutinise the scene, trying to catch a glimpse of his figure, maybe his hair, anything.

“Listen, I just want to thank you… I thought…” you stopped yourself for a second, taking another step forwards and a deep breath “i thought i could just have a word with you?”

No response, a pained frown slowly appearing in your face, you bit your lower lip in doubt. Fine, one last try.

“Okay, you don’t have to talk, you don’t have to say anything, I’ll do the talking. But please… just come out, I want to see you.”

Something else fell down behind you, startling you once again and making you turn around in panic. A bad premonition grew in your chest, something wasn’t right. You could now feel it in your bones: you should not be there. And if there was something around it surely wasn’t who you were hoping for.

“What- ? Who’s there? Don’t come close!” you tried to flee, turning towards the direction you had come from.

But you ended up running into something that wasn’t there before, falling down onto the cold hard floor. You looked up just to find a horrid creature. Your eyes widened, panic weakening your legs and a scream getting stuck in your vocal cords. It was so similar to the one monster that had tried to hurt you the night of Shibuya, with dark green skin, multiple arms and eyes. The monster showed a creepy smile, widening its mouth, ready to attack.

You felt your stomach turn, your body trembling and the panic traveling through your body until your survival instinct kicked in. Somehow you managed to stand up and tried to run away, only this time you ran into something else. Or rather someone.

The white haired boy quickly grabbed you by your waist and moved you behind him, shielding you and defiantly glaring at the creature. You felt all your air freeze inside your lungs. He was there, he was real. His white hair was slightly disheveled, his purple jacket had one of the sleeves ripped off and you noticed he was now missing one of his arms. You wanted to speak to him, say anything, but you didn’t even know his name.

The creature laughed, sending a wave of disgust down your spine. Lunging forwards, it extended its arms wide and ready to attack. The boy didn’t hesitate, his powerful voice filling the alley loud and clear.

“Explode!”

The sound waves of his command hit the creature head on, causing a spark of fire to ignite in its skin and suddenly causing an explosion that sent it flying backwards, ripping its skin into shreds and filling the air with ashes and a strange smell of sulfure. You stood there behind him, eyes widened and your jaw dropped, until he suddenly started coughing.

“Are you okay?!” you tried turning him around, but he stopped you and nodded immediately, frowning a little and clearing his throat.

He glanced back at you with concern written all over his eyes. You remembered the last time had saved you and how he had stared at you just like that before holding your face in his hands and your shoulders in search of wounds. And he did just that again. He reached with his hand to cup your cheek, lifting your chin a little to make sure you didn’t have any scrapes or blood, before checking your neck and your arms.

“I’m fine, I’m-” he coughs again, your brows furrow in concern when you catch a glimpse of blood dripping from the corner of his lips “but you’re not, let me help you”

You reach to brush his hair out of his face and clean the blood, but he pulls back slightly. You freeze, and so does he, blinking a little before his eyes go back to yours cautiously.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to cross a line” you reply as gently as possible, pulling your hand away before hesitantly taking out the small bottle from your pocket “I have this… will it help?”

His eyes widen a little when he sees the small bottle of cough syrup in your hand and he can’t help but smile slightly. Nodding, he takes it from your hand and drinks it as if it were juice, sighing in relief right after and cleaning the little droplets of blood from his lips with the back of his hand. You take your time to carefully study him, trying to engrave every single detail of his into your brain. The messy rebellious hair strands that refused to go back to their place, the way his long white lashes moved along with his gorgeous lavender eyes and the lines and circles that framed his thin but rosy lips. He looked tired, like he had been fighting for longer than he should have, like he could use some comfort. The comfort that you had found in his arms last time. So when he looks back at you you can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth.

“Would you be okay with a hug?”

He blinked a little in surprise before his tense muscles relaxed slowly and a little smile lifted the corners of his lips. He nods gently again, you smile back in tender concern. Not waiting for anything else you crashed onto him, hugging him tightly. Closing your eyes, you let the warmth of his solid body calm down the still agitated beating of your heart, the worn down scent of lilies you remembered filling your senses once again.

“Thank you” you whispered “for taking care of me all this time”

Sighing, he hugged back, his arm wrapping around your waist and resting his head on yours. Now you knew it: he was real, and you weren’t going to let him go now. Not when both of you were in this dire need from the solace that your closeness brought.

“Always.”

[divine-misfortune]

The floor is yours good sir 👀

CLEARS THROAT

After his transition, Dewdrop felt nothing but loss. Everything was taken from him. His element, his pack, his bass. And what pack he had left felt like strangers to him, though some of them were strangers. Mountain and Aether looked at him different. He was just Dew now. No more Dewdrop, the clergy had even stolen his own fucking name from him. No more droplet, no more water lily, no more catfish. Sure, the nicknames changed. Sure, they were still endearing. But they weren’t his. It felt like he’d stolen something from Ifrit - like every passing ‘spitfire’ was desecrating something sacred.

In the weeks and months following, he hides the urge to grimace every single time these new pet names find their way to his ears. Dew wants to like them, wants to feel that familiar fuzzy warmth in his chest. Yearns for the feeling of love to settle into his core like an old familiar friend. He also does his best not to looked like a kicked puppy when Mountain calls this new ghoul ‘tadpole’ for the first time, and the second time, and every occurrence after that. It was like being replaced. More confusing of a feeling though, keeping him around to watch this new water ghoul blossom was painful. Could have been classified as Dewdrop related cruelty.

And there is no way for him to swallow down the resentment and anger that boils in him when Aether purrs the faintest ‘raindrop’ against Rain’s kiss plumped lips. Puts off sparks, the fire in the hearth crackles and flares violently before snuffing out abruptly as he gets off the couch and storms out of the room.

Time blurs eventually. They say it heals all wounds but all it does is numb him to the hurt. Dew can force it down far enough he can force himself to be in the same room as Rain. And then after a bit longer, tolerate a conversation with him, which turns into multiple over time. Spirals into thousands of shared thoughts and words between them until Dew can’t get enough of listening to Rain talk. Disdain and arms length distance becomes infatuation and a desire for proximity he didn’t think possible before.

Dew kisses him. Suddenly and without even considering what he was doing, the fire ghoul was leaning over the sleek white bass in Rain’s lap to sate an itch he’d been ignoring since the day they met. Their mouths fit together like they were made for this. He tastes like everything Dew had dreamed about and more. It tastes like home and conflict mixed in one but it doesn’t drive him away like it should. Curiosity has him licking over the seam of Rain’s lips and dipping past when Rain allows him in. His gasp lights a fire in Dew he’d never felt. Not simply arousal, but something deeper than even he knew. Completion.

They’re lucky Rain has the shoulder strap on because if not that bass would’ve hit the floor because Rain’s hands had abandoned it to fit on a more favorable body. One against his cheek, the other on the back of his neck. Every point of contact Dew can find helps make the world make sense again. He’s practically trying to crawl into Rain’s already occupied lap, wanting to press their bodies together in a way not entirely sexual.

And they part, and Dew’s world feels broken in half. Ripped away by the distance between their lips. The taste lingers and Dew hopes it stays forever. Hopes that this might be the one thing they can’t take from him.

“Rain, I-“

“Took you long enough,” he interrupts and pets his thumb over his warm cheek. “Kept me waiting, droplet.”

There it is. That single fucking word and Dew’s shattered world is flipped on its head and forced back together despite the missing chipped pieces.

The clergy may have stolen it from him, but Rain gave it back just like that.

Dew could laugh, should probably cry, but he just stares at those pretty blue eyes. Frozen until relief thaws him and reminds his heart to start beating again, even if it is a bit faster than it had been. It didn’t matter, his heart could beat right out of his chest and Dew wouldn’t care. Too fixated on the way the word leaves Rain’s tongue, fascinated by the fondness it carries, enraptured by the way he looks at him. It didn’t cure the pain his transition caused him, but it did stitch the open wound shut so it could finally begin to heal.

“Say it again…”

“Again?”

“Call me that again, please.”

“As many times as you want, droplet. Anything you want.”

And each one is a reminder of who he was - who he is. His name no longer felt strange and foreign like ill fitted clothes.

[awkward-tension-art]

Bacta and Bandages Chp.9 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 8. Epilogue

Crystals

CW: Slow burn, Two fools trying to ignore their crushes, underground caves, non-canon planet and species, talk of unfair treatment of clones, being lost, kisses, Anakin is a little shit, Reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), reader is a doctor, if I miss a tag LMK!

Tag list (Thank you everyone!): @heavenseed76 @arctrooper69 @ghostlyembassy @notgonnaedit @tentakelspektakel

You couldn’t breathe. 

Your mouth filled with cold water, flooding your taste buds with salt and dirt. Shouting wasn’t possible as you tumbled under the harsh current. It threw you, disorienting your senses. At some point, you dropped again into another running body of water. A smaller waterfall, you guessed. 

Your back slammed into what you assumed was the bottom of the river. 

An iron grip on your arm yanked you upward, letting your head breach the surface to take in a lungful of air. Despite getting your face above water, it still tried to ragdoll your body under the current. 

That same grip continued to pull you, and once you got your bearings, you started kicking your legs. You opened your eyes, barely making out Rex’s blue and white armor treading the same dark, cold water. His presence grounded you, and it was like everything snapped together all at once. You moved your hand, holding his tightly as you both fought against the heavy current to get to the edge of the river. 

Your feet hit smooth stones and allowed you to stabilize. With your boots on the ground, you and your Captain stumbled out of the freezing rapids. 

Once you were out of the dangerous clutches of the current, you fell to your knees, breathing heavily. 

Rex did the same, pulling off his helmet to cough up water. As he tried to get his breath back, he hit his com, “G-General Skywalker…” He croaked, only to be met with static. After getting no response, he pressed it again, “Commander Tano…?” 

Static. 

You lowered your head, swallowing. Coms didn’t work…

Of course they didn’t work.

After a stretch of silence, you spoke, “Are you hurt?” Looking around the two of you, you took in your surroundings. You both had surfaced in another cavern. This one had large silver shards protruding from the walls, ceiling and floor. Glowing moss and mushrooms lit up the area, so you weren’t entirely blind.

Rex perked up, moving to stand and offering a hand to you, “No, I’m not….Are you?”

You took it and stood, giving him a small smile, “I’m good. Let's…find a way back.”

He nodded, putting his helmet back on, “Stay close. We don’t know what might be hiding in the damn walls.”

You nodded and followed, brushing a hand over one of the massive metal fragments. Unsurprisingly, they were cold. Almost icy to the touch. If you had to guess, the water you and Rex tumbled in had come from the surface. 

As the two of you walked through the underground paths, the Captain would periodically check his com, hoping to get a connection to the General or Commander. 

As you navigated the tunnels, the metal shards began to be replaced with more of the coral like stone, moss and glowing mushroom plants. Crystal embedded in the ceiling gave a soft light, looking more like stars than gems. 

It was…rather pretty. 

You reached up, hand brushing over a white, glowing lily speckled with black. However, once you touched it, the flower closed suddenly and shrank into the rock it was growing out of. There were more up ahead and they grew in number, the further you and Rex walked. 

The underground tunnel opened up into a chamber that was more grotto than cavern. The air echoed with the running water of a stream. Moss, patches of grass and flowers replaced the cold rock of the ground. Vines, with small glowing berries, hung from branching stalagmites and protruding crystals on the wall. Small bugs, which lit up with a soft golden white light, danced around both you and the clone beside you. 

“Woah…” Your eyes were wide, taking in the rather beautiful area. You stepped forward, raising a finger to one of the glowing bugs. It landed gently on your nail, flexed its wings and hovered off to continue its flying, “It’s…beautiful…”

Rex was looking at you as you spoke, however, you didn’t notice, “Yes…I agree.” He continued onward, trying not to stare too long, “let’s…let’s continue.” clearing his throat, he tried his com again. 

Among the static, you swear you heard Anakin’s voice, “Rex…Collapse…Where….” Rex tried to respond, but was met with more broken distortion.

“The General must be close, if we have a connection.” You perked up, walking over to him. 

“We should still try and find…” The Captain's voice faded off, watching a butterfly with large, bioluminescent wings hover close. He raised a hand to try and swat it but you grabbed his fingers, halting him. it approached, landing softly on his visor. The beautiful bug fluttered its wings a couple of times before going still.  

You couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your lips.

He cleared his throat, “Now, uhh…little bug, that’s…I can’t see.” Slowly, he raised his free hand again, letting the glowing butterfly walk along his palm, “There we go, buddy.” After a few more moments, it beat its massive wings again and got into the air. 

For a second, you forgot you were holding his hand. You didn’t want to let go, even after you began walking again. 

He was the one who pulled away. 

You tried not to let it bother you. Though, it did. 

You’ve realized that your ‘passing crush’ was more than that. There were true, deep feelings for the captain in your heart. Something you couldn’t shake, no matter how hard you tried. 

You wondered when these feelings began.

Was it the time he helped you with your aim?

When he was the one who got the others to sign a card after Ferrum’s death?

One of the many times he thanked you after you bandaged his wounds on the battlefield? 

Or maybe it was when you first saw him smile. When you saw how warm and lovely he looked when he did so. When he smiled, a true, happy smile, he wasn’t the 501st captain. He was Rex. 

You loved Rex. 

And it ruined you. Clones weren’t permitted romantic partners. Even if he had the same feelings, neither of you could pursue them. Not only was it against the rules, he was your Captain, and you were his legions doctor.

You walked behind him, watching his armored back. He was a soldier. A good soldier. He’d never break the rules to be with you. 

So you swallowed your feelings and followed his steps.

The grotto was bigger than you originally thought. It took more than 20 minutes to get to the other side to look for a way forward. You brushed aside some vines, revealing another tunnel. It was pure darkness save for those glowing star-like crystals that dotted the walls and ceilings. The small amount of illumination reflected off multicolored stone. 

When you and Rex stepped forward, it was like you were walking inside the galaxy.

“I can see why the Drosari like living in the tunnels.” the clone beside you spoke quietly, “Though, as pretty as all of this is, I’d like to no longer be underground.”

You let out a small chuckle, “If there wasn’t the threat of a cave-in, I might like it here.” Your hand ghosted over the crystals in the wall, “These caves are beautiful.” 

“I agree, but I think I prefer to have a solid, metal ship around me rather than rock.” Rex responded, shrugging slightly. 

“You prefer a Venator ceiling over an open sky?”

“Well,” He grazed his palm over a cluster of gems that reflected soft purple light, “Other than Kamino, It’s all I’ve ever known as a home.”

Your heart twisted in your chest and you turned to look at him. You couldn’t see his expression through his helmet when you asked your question, “What would your ideal home be?” 

“What?” He seemed surprised by your question. After a few beats the Captain answered, “Truthfully, I haven’t thought about it.”

“Not even a little?” you asked, walking beside him, “When the war is over, where would you like to go?”

“We’re not made to think like that.” Rex took off his helmet, and turned to look at it in his hands, “We’re soldiers. We were made to fight. It’s why we age twice as fast, so when the fighting is done, we…don’t stay for too long.” 

You swallowed, throat tightening.

“And…what if you didn’t age twice as fast?” Your voice shook slightly before you cleared your throat to speak, “You could choose anywhere to live. Where would it be?” Without thinking, you rested a hand against his arm.

“I don’t know.” he sighed, “Why does it matter?”

Your words were stubborn, “Because what you think matters to me.” You don’t know why his answer mattered so much to you. Even in the low crystal light you could tell he was confused by your pressing. 

Rex blinked, “I’m a clone, doc. You don’t need to-”

“You're more than a clone to me.” you stepped forward, getting closer to him, “And you're more than a soldier…”

There was a flick of emotion in his gaze. His eyes reflected the small illuminating crystals, making them look like amber with stars trapped inside.

By the galaxy, his eyes were beautiful. 

He swallowed, looking back at his helmet before meeting your eyes, “I suppose I’d want to…have my home wherever you are.” The nervousness was clear in his tone. And you could feel ever so slight shaking from his arm.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you got closer. With a trembling hand, you raised it to his cheek. 

Rex was tense and frozen in place, looking at you. His gorgeous eyes were a storm of anxiety and uncertainty. His small confession was honest but most likely terrifying for him. He was created and raised to be a soldier, and he was in unknown territory now. 

He wasn’t taught anything more than warfare. 

You held power over him, intentional or not. He was a clone. In the eyes of many he was property with no thoughts or feelings. A droid to take orders, nothing more. He wasn’t allowed rights or liberties.

So you gave him the power to choose what he wanted.

“Rex?” You whispered his name, breath ghosting his skin, “Can I kiss you?” 

The Captain nodded slowly, “Yes…Please…” 

You’d most likely be his first. His first kiss. His first romantic partner. His first…everything.

Gently and slowly, you leaned forward, connecting his lips with yours. It was tender, soft and chaste. But it held so much emotion. The only reason you pulled back was to breathe, but he chased you slightly, following your lips. 

The Captain blinked his eyes open, meeting your gaze. His helmet dropped to the ground, and his palms were on your cheeks. This time, he initiated by leaning forward and kissing you. It was an uncertain kiss, but one that still spoke with so much feeling.

“Gar cuyir ner kar'ta.” He whispered, once you both broke away to breathe properly.

You smiled, leaning against him, “Gar cuyir ner cyar'ika.”

Rex laughed softly, pulling you to kiss you again. 

…Until you heard the clearing of a throat. 

You and the Captain jerked away, eyes wide, coming face-to-face with General Skywalker.

Anakin was standing at the other end of the cave, one eyebrow raised and a satisfied grin on his face. His arms were crossed, and he seemed way too pleased. Like a Loth-cat in a sunbeam. 

Fives was next to him. You could tell by his posture that his jaw was dropped in his helmet.

“G-general!” Rex saluted, “I-we…”

“I knew it,” the Jedi’s grin didn’t falter as he spoke, “Like I said a long time ago, Rex. All of my men are free to pursue whatever relationships they want. I won’t tell a soul. Neither will Fives, right trooper?”

After a second, he nodded, “r-right. Yes sir! I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

The 501st captain let out a relieved sigh, “Thank you, General…But…may I ask, how did you find us? Our coms have been cut off.” 

“I had to use the Force,” He responded, turning to face the exit of the tunnel, “I wasn’t going to leave my most loyal captain or talented doctor to wander around some caves. Now come on, we still have a mining operation to stop.”

You shared a look with your cyar’ika before he put his helmet on to follow. You kept close to him, feeling pure happiness in your chest.

Cyar’ika….

You liked calling Rex that.